So... yeah, I've been really ill (and still am) so that's why it has taken a year to update D: (SORRY) Here is the long awaited chapter :D Merry Christmas!
Chapter Ten
Long into the night Jaicous watched the moon, startling and calm crawl a path through a thousand twinkling lights above the rumbling city. From the window of the Prince's private solar he watched, alone and sinking into thoughts of what was to come. He savoured the moment, there was not likely to be another for some time.
Across the hushed city the cathedral bells clanged a solemn drone, not unlike the bells he often heard heralding the passing of nobility. The bells clanged as one with the thud of his heart. It pained him more than he thought it would.
Thousands of men from every household and province in reach of the kingdom would be preparing to say farewell to their loved ones. Many would never return. Jaicous wondered, would he have been willing to join them? Would he have followed the monarchy he strongly disagreed with? Unlikely. He thought. And yet, that was before. Now...now that choice was no longer his to make. He would go, in chains or under guard. But I will go. And they won't see me coming.
When at last Raphion stalked in, he had a stack of parchment tucked beneath one arm and a grimace that told Jaicous the meeting had not gone as planned.
The room smelled of damp and cold, like all the heat had been sucked out. Firewood lay in ashes in the grand fire place, long since burned through. Raphion kicked the door shut and cleared his desk with a swipe of his arm.
"Fool. Have you been sitting here all this time? Shut the window, what's wrong with you?" Raphion said.
Jaicous did as he was bid and closed the window from the cold. They could still hear the bells ringing through the walls. "I needed fresh air, since you won't let me out of here."
"That air will freeze you to death. I won't have it said that my suitor died of a cold before the battle even began."
"How considerate of you. I had no idea my safety meant so much," Jaicous said in a grim, dull tone, admiring the irony whence a cold had become a desired death in the space of one day. He was far more willing to die of a cold than septicaemia.
Raphion paused in step. "Don't," he warned, suddenly looking extremely tired, "if you can't say anything helpful then shut your goddamn mouth. The time has passed for your nonsense." He ran a hand through unkempt blond hair and rubbed his eyes, looking, for a mere minute, petrified. The last war on Aishion raged for generations, seeing the death of three kings and two suitors. For once, the Prince was submerged in something he could not control and Jaicous was along for the ride, however terrifying and dangerous it would be.
He dully decided to ignore it in hope it would disappear. "I assume by the state of your arrival the council didn't appreciate your proposal?"
Raphion broke his stare and paced, deliberating. "None of this leaves this room. Understand?"
Jaicous shrugged. He could tell anyone whatever he liked (upon his eventual dismissal, by which time he might be ninety-two), but if it eased Raphion's tongue it was worth the lie. The corners of his mouth titled up but the humour did not reach his eyes. "Do you want me to promise on my life, or yours?"
Raphion walked to the door and stuck his head out.
"All clear?" Jaicous asked, leaning into his seat.
Raphion nodded and came to sit beside his parchment.
"My father is a stubborn fool," he practically growled, "he thinks peace will simply come to fruition if we wait Gadara out; he believes the Keep is enough to hold them at bay at least until the end of winter. The council are a bunch of narrow-minded bigots; they would rather sit on their wealth and let others do the work for them. And that idiot Gaston wants to implement a control on supplies so he can build a wall around our surrounding lands until a treaty of peace can be negotiated." He laughed low, the kind of demonic laugh that sane men back away from. "They know someone has to lead some form of army in case Gadara does decide to meet on the field. They want to wine and dine while the front lines are taking care of. Cowards," he spat.
"That is unusual," Jaicous said, certain Raphion was keeping quiet on a few vital pieces of information. Without the King, would Raphion be enough to rally the men? "And what of the banner men? Will they be summoned? Or has your father decided Aishion will survive on a handful of farmers with pitchforks?"
Raphion began scattering his papers as he spoke, "it's true, the council decided against summoning all of our resources."
"Then what are we doing?" He gestured to the papers.
"Summoning the banner men, of course. I take it you can write?"
"Why, what's wrong with the scribes?" Jaicous asked, well aware his writing skills were perfectly adept for a man of his calibre.
"I can't trust the scribes. Not for this."
But you can trust me? Jaicous refrained from saying and picked up a quill instead. "What do I write?"
They spent the night and much of the early morning scratching away. When finally the last letter was signed, rolled and ready for flight Jaicous could barely open his fist to stretch blistered fingers. It had never been so bad, not even after a full day of gathering work. He gained a new respect for the working scribe.
Raphion stood up and his chair creaked with him. "Right. That's the last of them. I'll send them myself; we can't have any my father's spies meddling in something far out of their comprehension. There's no knowing if Gaston has sent guards to the tower. He may even be up there now." He gathered the script together into a neat pile. "You did better than I expected. True, your handwriting could be improved but at least now I know you can do more with your hands than simply welding an axe."
Jaicous took that as a compliment. "I'm sure your counting on my axe skills. It's true, isn't it? The man last night at the tavern, he said you'd been called to lead the army. In your father's stead, I realise now."
Raphion merely stared but Jaicous had seen that look one too many times to be sure of its meaning. He sighed. "Save the threats, Raphion. I'll come. I know that's what you want, so I'll tag along willingly if it pleases you to know. I only ask one thing of you."
"What is it?"
"The freedom I would have had before your deal at least on the road." Jaicous spoke slowly; determined Raphion would not shrug this one off.
"Granted," Raphion replied as he reached for the door, much to Jaicous's surprise. "But in return I ask for the loyalty I deserve. I won't take you in chains, you'd only break them, and I'd pay any guard triple if they could keep tabs on you where we're going." They both knew no guard would receive that payment, because no guard would be able to keep up with him once they reached his terrain: the forest.
"But hear this, you cross the line and I'll treat you as bequests your station," Raphion said.
Jaicous rose stiffly. "Then we are in agreement."
All nicety over with, they stood eye to eye, man to man.
"Get packing," Raphion ordered.
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Dozens of men sat side by side upon magnificent horses, the size of beasts like Jaicous had never seen before. Black and brown geldings whipped their tails free of snow and a chorus of rumbling joined the stable boys in their endeavour to see the warriors off prepared. Clouds of steam gathered throughout the barracks in the icy weather, even the horses panted hard and heavy through wide nostrils.
Jaicous shivered and tightened the fastening on his fur gloves. Wind whipped against his cheeks. The ride would be hard and longer than any journey before. He felt ill at the thought. It wasn't the thought of riding that made his breath quicken, his stomach turn, but the likelihood that once he mounted, an arrow in the back might help him dismount. It wasn't a pleasant notion. He encountered death too often, if you asked him. Surprisingly, he missed his Gatherer status. An exclusion from fights and wars, and a duty to remain at the castle came first and foremost. Not anymore. He wasn't happy about that, either. Though recently he wasn't happy about anything.
He crunched through the snow and guided his horse in line with his assigned group, the rangers. He mounted up beside Eiamus, their newly appointed Captain. He'd been surprised, how could Eiamus achieve a position in such a small amount of time?
Jaicous stared; he couldn't fault the man's determination. He'd always strived for power. Some men had the will to achieve their goals, and others, well... others like himself simply didn't.
Eiamus acknowledged him with a nod. "Are you ready?" he said, his mouth set into a grim line. His eyes were tense. Fine stubble shadowed his chin and his brown hair lay unkempt. Neither mentioned the escape they had planned and failed to deliver. Perhaps it was best they forgot it all together; there were other pressing matters at hand. Staying alive, for one.
He sighed in reply. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"If anyone can survive, you can," Eiamus said.
"We'll see." His stomach turned. He was worried. Worried for himself, worried for Eiamus and even worried for Raphion, but he kept his fears strictly unsaid. Eiamus would only jape if he knew. A weak willed mind could kill a man where they were headed. If he wanted to stay alive, he needed to stay alert.
Jaicous reached behind and checked his pack was firmly strapped to the saddle. Raphion had supplied him with all he needed, though Jaicous suspected one too many malicious items had made it in along with his medical kit and food provisions. He felt the cold steel of the dagger he'd swiped from Raphion's desk press against his wrist and shivered, trying not to think that he might have to use it. He'd only ever practised his skills in training with the men at the tavern, and most of them could not stand up straight.
"It's four days to camp," Eiamus said, "you'll ride beside me." Eiamus took the reins from Jaicous and manoeuvred the horses until they touched. Their legs brushed briefly and Eiamus clenched his jaw.
"I thought a guard wasn't necessary," Jaicous said, turning to face forward, focusing on the horses ahead beginning to walk. It would be their turn soon. They were amidst the hundred personally escorting the Prince. A second troupe had left earlier with the mass of their army. Raphion's letters would have notified the rest of the men by now and all would head for the camp at one of the Forts nearing the South border where preparations for war would begin. They would be gone before the King realised of his son's actions.
"Listen to me Jaicous," Eiamus lowered his voice, he sounded strangely tense, "I am your friend first before anything. You mustn't forget that."
"Is something wrong?" Jaicous asked, tensing as his horse followed the horse in front without a command. Eiamus dropped Jaicous's reins and silently shook his head.
Suspicious, Jaicous kept his mouth shut for most of the day's journey, men had ears, and when ears listened, men spoke. They stopped rarely, for food and water, and a scarce few minutes rest before they were back in the saddle, slowly travelling through villages and towns, each one as similar and mundane as the last. Raphion halted their journey once or twice to shout at men working the field. Jaicous rode too far down the column to hear the words passed, but food, water, and furs were offloaded from a cart ahead. They rode on. He had a lot to think about.
They left behind civilisation not long after and soon there was nothing at all, but sparse green fields and shadows of thick green forests with trees so large he passed them with an itch in his fingers and a longing for his axe.
Not a soul crossed their path, no animals nor man. The rumbling that accompanied a hundred horses scared any living creature into hiding. Even by the waterbed, usually ripe for hunting, became lifeless. The waterbed flowed down the North towards the South, and it took him a moment to realise its absence along the way. One day it came into view, the next it disappeared. They were following it, he soon grasped, and he asked Eiamus why they did not travel beside it.
He merely shrugged in reply, "Maybe His Highness is hoping to recruit."
Jaicous shook his head, he knew well enough a few farm boys wouldn't tip the scale, and he knew Raphion thought so too.
X
The Fort where their journey would end was but three days away, Jaicous overheard one of the rangers say as they dismounted to set up camp for the night in a small opening big enough for one hundred men. To Jaicous, the journey seemed endless already.
Sleet drifted from the skies and the skim of snow on the surface of the ground crunched underfoot. It would be a cold night beneath the stars for those who weren't privileged enough to sleep within a tent. He didn't know his sleeping arrangements quite yet.
Jaicous stretched his raw blistered fingers and gladly let his horse be led away. A fire burned down his back and all of his muscles cried out with agony. He wanted a bed. He needed a bed. It didn't even have to be stuffed with feathers, or lined with silken cloth; a bundle of fur would do the trick nicely. All of his energy lay stamped on thrice and discarded on the road back in Aishion, and it wasn't likely to return any time soon. As it turned out, his wish to sleep was duly denied, as it was always so.
There would be no bed nor rest, at least not until his patrol finished up for the night. Rangers were responsible for securing the perimeter. Only, no one told him he needed to do the duty, only to fake appearances in uniform, and let's be honest, his good looks achieved that for him. It was another hole in his bucket of bad luck. And that bucket was soon to get a whole lot heavier.
He patrolled his 'night shift' with three other equally sore and rest deprived rangers and arrived back at camp with a view of erected tents and camp fires littered across the small opening where they'd laid camp, casting an eerie orange glow flickering everywhere he looked. The Prince's tent was the biggest of all, towering above them, silent and heavily guarded.
One of the rangers, Olie, thrust a mug of ale into his hand as they sat around one of the fires nursing their sore feet and hands.
"Cheer up Kai," he slapped him on the back, all six foot of him towering above. He collapsed next to him on the grassy floor, most of the sleet having turned to rain. "Might'a thought you'd been in a fight if I hadn't been with you all night. Y'got a right look on y'face. What's up?" Olie was the type of man who could get along with anyone. Jaicous found him liking him more and more as time passed. His company was appreciated.
Jaicous sighed into his mug and rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"No you ain't, trust me. You don't get a look like that f'nothing. Y'got a lass back home or somethin'? She angry? They all are at first, but look at it like me, they'll appreciate you more when you're back," he said and lay down with his mug balanced precariously on his stomach.
Jaicous laughed. "Yeah," he agreed, "something like that." He imagine Raphion in his tent a mere few yards away furiously doing whatever it was he did in his spare time, and he laughed even harder.
Olie raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Cheers to her, then."
Jaicous raised his mug, bashed it against Olie's and took a swig.
The next thing he knew, the mug was kicked out of his hands and smashed against the ground. He looked up, ready to curse, soaked in ale, and saw Raphion, sword in hand outlined in the fiery blaze, exuding pure contempt.
"What are you doing?" Raphion demanded.
Jaicous scanned the area quickly, assuring his fears of an audience were unfounded. Fortunately only Olie stood within hearing distance.
"What are you doing?" Jaicous hissed, shaking out his ale-ridden hair. "Put your sword away, it isn't needed."
He started to stand only for Raphion to push him back down.
"You could have killed yourself!" Raphion shouted.
To be continued...