Chapter Eighteen

 

 

“Damnit, man, I’m his friend,” Rion said, surprised at his own emotion.

“I understand, Lord Eriondrian, truly,” the guard said, “but Chosen Alesh has asked not to be disturbed save for Captain Nordin.”

Rion pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep his patience, telling himself that the guard was only doing his duty as he saw it. Punching him in the face—and likely getting cut down by him or his fellow standing beside him—would do no one any good. “So you’ve said,” he said slowly, “but as I believe I’ve mentioned, it is important. Maybe even life or death.” Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration. After all, it was just one missing knife and there were a dozen ways to explain it. Or so Rion told himself, but as much as he’d tried on his way to Alesh’s quarters, he couldn’t think of any. None, that was, save for the thieving servant which seemed more and more ludicrous the closer he considered it.

“Well,” said the second guard, who had thus far remained silent, giving him a grin, “that’s right enough. You ask me, the way things are goin’ just now, we let you in it’s liable to be our heads—”

“Shut your damned mouth,” the other, older guard growled, and the younger of the two recoiled as if he’d been slapped, eyeing his companion with a sullen, angry expression, but choosing to remain silent. “Forgive him, sir,” the older guard said, turning back to Rion. “He’s young and foolish.”

Maybe, but Rion didn’t like the sound of that. Alesh would never execute somebody for something so small as interrupting him. It was ridiculous even to think so. Clearly, the guard was used to working for Tesharna and had a very different expectation of what his ruler would be like.

But then again…Rion remembered the way Alesh’s face had looked when he’d first taken over the city and had given a speech to everyone in the streets. He remembered thinking he’d looked crazy…insane. Had he been more right than he knew? Had Alesh—No, he told himself sternly. You stop that right now. You’re anxious, that’s all, and now you’re jumping at shadows. Alesh is a good man. He’s a good man, damnit.

“Did he say when he’ll allow visitors?” Rion asked, the words croaking out of a throat gone suddenly dry—more in a desperate attempt to change the subject than any actual consideration.

“Forgive me, lord,” the older of the two said—the young one still too occupied trying to show just how grievous an injustice he’d endured—“but he didn’t mention it. Only said not to let anyone in.”

“Sure, sure,” Rion said, “but understand, man, he didn’t mean me. Me and Alesh we’re—”

“Sorry, sir,” the guard went on, an apologetic look on his face, “but he said your name specifically. Yours and Lady Elar’s. Lord Darl too.”

Rion was taken back by that. Surely, there had to be some sort of mistake. Alesh trusted them, he was their friend. Gods, Rion had long since lost count of the times they’d nearly been killed together, when one of them had saved the others life. That meant something…didn’t it? But that look. Had it been madness in his eyes that day? Had it?

There had to be some mistake, yet there was not. The expression on the older guard’s face told him that much. He wasn’t enjoying barring the door to Rion, wasn’t making a game of watching him squirm. He was, quite simply, following orders. Orders Alesh had given him. Rion told himself it was no big deal. Probably, Alesh had just wanted to catch up on some sleep and had asked the guards to keep anyone away for that purpose—the gods knew the man needed some rest. Each time Rion saw him, the circles under his eyes seemed bigger and bigger, and he wasn’t quite shuffling around like some risen corpse, not yet, but he was getting closer all the time. He told himself it was that and nothing else, that the man had finally gotten sense enough to understand the importance of finding a chance to rest just as Rion and Katherine had been telling him for days. He told himself that…but he didn’t believe it.

“Will you tell him I came by? That it’s urgent?”

“Of course, lord,” the guard replied, bowing his head.

Rion wanted to say something else, but he could think of nothing and finally just nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, before turning and heading back down the castle hallway, pausing when he realized he had no idea where he was going or what he meant to do, knew only that he needed to be doing something. Talking to Alesh, telling him about the missing knife had been the plan, but that could be the plan no longer, as for whatever reason the man had chosen to seclude himself in his quarters.

Still, he needed to tell someone if for no other reason than to be told he was being ridiculous, something he would have welcomed, just then. He decided that Katherine or Darl would do well. He trusted their judgment, and they knew Alesh better than anyone, so either should be able to tell him if he was worrying over nothing and maybe even have some information about why Alesh was secluding himself. Heartened, Rion turned and headed for Katherine’s quarters.

 

***

 

Katherine stared inside the empty storeroom—at least the dozenth of such she’d visited over the last few days—with at least as many thoughts running through her head, none of them good. They had feared they were in terrible need of supplies before, but since the traitors in the city had largely been rounded up, she had taken it on herself to check on what supplies the records had indicated, a number which had already been uncomfortably low. In fact, the situation, she’d discovered, was far worse than even the records indicated. Someone, perhaps Tesharna or one of her staff, had either been incredibly lax or intentionally dishonest in their reports, a fact proven by the empty storeroom she and Darl now gazed on, one supposed to house barrels of grain but which instead held nothing but a few dusty, empty barrels.

She had searched for someone to consult about the problem, hoping that the records were wrong and the foodstuffs were simply in some other room. It was a big castle, after all, and she and Darl had not yet searched all of it. Normally, a steward would have overseen such records, but according to everyone she’d talked to, Tesharna had dismissed her last steward and never replaced him. Katherine had been worried—they all had—that in the event of the coming siege, they would only have weeks of food available to them. Now, that number looked more like days. What was worse, they couldn’t even count on the secret tunnels to provide food even if they had somehow found someone they could trust enough to make use of them. After all, those tunnels—and whatever slim hope they’d provided—were gone now, buried under tons of earth and stone.

Most of the city was worried—perhaps rightly so—about how to defend against the coming army, about what their soldiers would wield in the coming battle, what they would wear. Katherine, however, was forced to confront the very real concern that they may have nothing to eat. True, the farmland surrounding Valeria acted as the source of its food, but many of those who tended the fields had already fled into the city to avoid the coming army. Those few who insisted on remaining on their farms wouldn’t be able to make the trip once the enemy army arrived, assuming that the army didn’t take the time to attack their villages beforehand which seemed likely.

“We need to tell Alesh,” she said to Darl. “Now.”

The Ferinan’s expression was grim as he nodded, showing that he, too, understood the danger of what they faced. “Yes.”

They were turning to leave the room when Rion appeared around the corner of the corridor walking toward them. He wasn’t running, not exactly, but he wasn’t far from it either, and she couldn’t help but notice that the man was covered in sweat, his eyes slightly too-wide as if on the verge of panic. “Rion?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He breathed an audible sigh of relief, glancing between her and Darl. “Gods, but you’re a hard couple of people to find. I had to ask about half the castle, I think, to figure out where you were.” He glanced over their shoulders into the empty storeroom before turning back to them. “Let me guess. There’s a problem.”

“There is,” Katherine said, “but it looks like you’re dealing with one of your own.”

He grunted. “Maybe.”

“Well?” Katherine asked. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Rion grimaced, as if embarrassed. “Well…nothing. Or, that is, something, but I don’t know what it means.”

Katherine didn’t like the sound of that. “Darl and I were just about to go see Alesh. You can tell us on the way if you’d like.”

“Won’t do you any good,” Rion said. “I’ve already tried. Alesh isn’t letting anyone into his rooms, right now.”

Katherine frowned. “Not letting anyone into his rooms? What do you mean?”

Rion shrugged. “Said he wanted to be alone for a while. Or, at least, that’s what the guard told me.”

“Be alone?” Katherine asked. “But why?”

Rion grunted. “I have no idea.”

“He grieves.”

They both turned to look at the Ferinan. “Grieves?” Rion said. “For what?”

“Not what, Eriondrian,” Darl said. “Whom.”

Rion sighed. “Alright, fine. Who then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Darl asked, glancing between the two of them. “He grieves for us all.”

Katherine could think of nothing to say to that. It was true that Alesh’s burdens had only seemed to increase with each passing day since they’d taken over Valeria, the strain of them visible in the almost pained expression that came on his face when he thought no one was looking. “But…but how can being alone help anything? He needs us with him to…to…”

“I did not say it will help,” Darl answered softly. “A wounded creature might crawl into a burrow, hiding itself away from the world, even from its master who would save it, not because it believes such an act will help but only because it knows no other way.”

Katherine frowned, troubled. Such an animal, it seemed to her, could only die. “We have to talk to him. I…I have to talk to him.” She started away only to realize that she had yet to ask Rion what had him so disturbed, and she turned back. “Sorry, Rion, forgive me. What did you have to say?”

Rion sighed. “Probably it’s nothing. At least, I hope it’s nothing, but—”

“Best you tell us,” Darl said.

The nobleman glanced took a slow, deep breath. “One of my knives is missing.”

“What do you mean ‘missing’?” Katherine asked. “Did you misplace it or—”

“I didn’t misplace it,” Rion said defensively. “I check them regularly. It was there, in my room, when I left, and when I came back it was gone.”

Katherine could see that the man was upset, but a missing knife seemed, just then, like the least of their worries. She needed to talk to Alesh. He’d been under an enormous amount of strain since taking over Valeria, and she didn’t like the idea of him sitting in his rooms, hiding in his burrow like the wounded animal Darl had spoken of. She didn’t like it at all. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go see Alesh.”

 

***

 

They left the storage rooms behind, and had she not been so concerned and worried over Alesh, Katherine would have been glad for the distraction, glad for the opportunity to avoid being reminded yet again of just how dire their situation was. She noted a group of servants hurrying toward the castle entrance and frowned. There was something purposeful about their movements, and she stopped the nearest, an older woman she recognized as one of those in charge of cleaning their quarters. “Annabelle.”

“Ah, Lady Katherine,” the woman said, bowing low. “I hope the day finds you well.”

“It does,” Katherine lied. “If you don’t mind my asking, where’s everyone going?”

“You haven’t heard?” the woman asked, surprised. “It’s Chosen Alesh, lady. He’s letting the prisoners go.”

Katherine frowned. “Letting them go?” She’d heard about the issues with the dungeons being far overcrowded, though between sorting through the records and checking the castle’s stores, she hadn’t had a chance to go and see them for herself, nor had she had the chance to speak with Alesh about the matter. Still, she hadn’t expected this. “Are you sure?”

“Not sure, lady,” the woman answered. “It’s only the rumor. We’re all going to see now. Would…would you like to accompany us?”

Katherine glanced at her two companions who both nodded before turning back to the woman. “Yes, yes, I think we would.”

 

***

 

Annabelle had told them Alesh was supposedly freeing the prisoners on the western side of the city, but Katherine would have been able to find him easily enough even if she hadn’t. All she, Darl, and Rion needed to do was follow the heaving crowd of men, women, and more than a few children milling through the city streets, an air of excitement about them as if they were preparing to attend some celebration.

Despite the masses crowding the streets, they eventually made it to the western gate. Following the adoring, almost worshipful gazes of the crowd, Katherine looked up and saw a figure she took to be Alesh standing on the battlements with Captain Nordin. “He’s up there,” she said to Darl and Rion. “Come on.”

Guards were stationed in front of the stone stairs leading up to the battlements—a wise precaution judging by the eagerness of some of those in the crowd that Katherine and the others had to fight their way through—but they finally made it to the base of the nearest staircase. She was relieved to see a guard she recognized. “Guardsman Balek.”

“Lady Katherine,” the guardsman said, surprised, “Sir Rion, Sir Darl. Forgive me for asking, but why are you in the crowds? I wouldn’t think it safe.”

The man was obviously surprised that Alesh hadn’t asked Katherine and the others to accompany him, but Katherine forced a smile she didn’t feel. “We’ve been rather busy, I’m afraid, but I was wondering if we might go up?”

“Of course, lady,” he said, motioning to the other guards who parted long enough that she and the others could walk past.

From below, the battlements had looked largely empty except for Alesh and the captain. But now, Katherine could see at least fifty men sitting with their backs against the battlements, longbows in their hands and quivers sitting beside them. “What do you think that’s about?” she asked.

Rion grunted, a troubled look on his face. “I have no idea.”

Something felt wrong to Katherine, and she felt an even greater need to speak to Alesh. She hurried toward him, the hidden archers watching her and the others’ progress with unmistakably grim expressions that only added to her unease. She did her best to ignore them as she made her way across the battlements, her stomach fluttering nervously.

Captain Nordin noticed her first and cut off from where he’d been saying something to Alesh that she couldn’t hear, raising a hand in greeting. “Lady Katherine, Sir Darl, Sir Rion, it’s good—”

“What are you doing here?” Alesh said in a tone of voice that was almost accusatory as he turned and looked at Katherine with an expression of what she could only describe as horror. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean, Alesh?” Katherine asked, hurt by the abruptness of his tone and suddenly faltering under his intense gaze. “I…I heard you weren’t allowing anyone in your rooms and I thought…” She trailed off, unsure of how to continue as she could feel the weight of his stare on her and noticed that his face had grown ashen. Coupled with the deep circles under his eyes, it made him look sickly, near death.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said again, looking at her and then the others, “any of you. It…you’re not…”

“Forgive me, Chosen,” Nordin said. “They await you.”

Alesh swallowed hard, studying Katherine for another several seconds before turning away with visible effort to stare down at the field on the other side of the city gate.

Confused and unsure of what was happening, and more than a little hurt by his dismissal, Katherine and the others moved toward the battlement edge. Peering over the stone crenelations, she was surprised to see that a group of a few hundred people stood outside the gates. They were surrounded on all sides by city guardsmen. The people in the group were dressed in ratty, filthy clothes, their hair unkempt and tangled. Their appearance, coupled with the presence of the guards, made it easy enough to mark them as the prisoners, the men and women whom she and the others had been hunting down for the last several weeks.

Seeing them all together, Katherine was struck again by the differences among them. Young and old, the hearty and infirm, it seemed the Darkness was not picky in those it chose to serve it. And if she felt confused and uncertain about what was happening, the prisoners were doubly so, all staring about them in apparent fear and confusion, looking up at the battlements and speaking in hushed whispers. Katherine was still trying to figure out what was happening, still trying to understand, when Alesh spoke in a loud, clear voice that carried over the gathering. The entire city seemed to grow silent as everyone, citizen and prisoner alike, strained to hear his words.

“I have brought you here,” he said, clearly speaking to the prisoners, “to offer you a deal. Each of you, in his or her way, has chosen the Darkness. You have stepped away from the Light, stepped away from goodness. Instead, you chose to seek your own gain to the detriment of others. You made the wrong choice. However, the Light is not without mercy.”

He paused to glance around at the prisoners, then looked over his shoulder at the gathered thousands lining the street, until his eyes finally settled on Katherine, some profound emotion in his gaze that Katherine didn’t understand. Then, he took a slow, deep breath as if to steady himself and continued, looking to the prisoners once more. “You are, all of you, being given a second chance. An army approaches, one made up of men and women who, like you, chose the Darkness. In weeks, likely days, we will stand against that army of darkness as the light must. As such, I give you a choice. You may continue serving the Darkness as you have, or you may choose the Light.”

The prisoners glanced around uncertainly at each other until a woman old enough to be Katherine’s grandmother stepped forward. “What does that mean, exactly? What are you offering us?”

“I’m offering you a choice,” Alesh said simply. “Should you choose to repent and move back to the Light, you will be given shelter here, in Valeria, and you will contribute to its defense. But should you choose to remain as you have, to continue to serve the Darkness, then you may leave and search for it.” He pointed at the woods in the distance. “It lies there, that army of evil, somewhere beyond those trees. I cannot say that they will take you in, but perhaps, the shadows will recognize their own. Either way, whatever choice you make will be final. Stay and be of service, stay and choose the Light. Or go into the Darkness. But know that, should you stay, you will be watched, always, for only a fool invites a thief into his home and believes his valuables safe.”

“So stay,” the woman repeated, “and be treated like a prisoner. Or leave and be free. Not much of a choice you’re giving us, boy.”

“Maybe,” Alesh said, “but it’s the best you’ll get. Now, choose.”

There were whispers among the prisoners then, whispers too among the gathered citizens of Valeria. Katherine looked below her at the crowded streets and saw heated arguments beginning to break out. Some shouted that the prisoners should be executed on the spot, others shouted that they should be put back in the dungeons. If any agreed with Alesh’s apparent plan to release them, they did not say so loud enough to be heard over the tumult.

The prisoners glanced at each other, some grinning as if they couldn’t believe their luck, others looking unsure, whispering in hushed tones impossible to hear over the cries of outrage and anger from the city’s citizens, and why not? Some of those prisoners gathered outside the gate had been responsible for the deaths of others’ loved ones, their families and friends, and now, it seemed, Alesh meant to let them go so that they might continue to spread misery and hate.

In the end, two of the prisoners, an old man and a middle-aged woman, separated themselves from the rest and several guards escorted them back toward the city, the man and woman cringing, their heads down, as they were bludgeoned with the jeers and angry shouts of the crowd. Alesh said nothing though, only watched the others. “Is there no one else?” he asked finally, and Katherine thought that only those that knew him as well as she did would have heard the desperation in his tone.

The old woman who’d spoken for the group sneered at him. “The Light ain’t never done nothin’ for us, lad. At least with the Darkness, we know where we stand, what we stand to gain.”

“And what you stand to lose,” Alesh answered, his voice, though low, barely more than a whisper, suddenly able to be heard over the silence which had descended as the entire city seemed to hold its breath.

The woman snorted, hocked, and spat. “You’ll be the one losin’, boy, all of you. The Dark Goddess is not kind to those who oppose her, and the Long Night comes.”

There was more shouting then, but Katherine was barely listening. She was staring at Alesh, watching his face twist with anguish. Had he really expected it to go any other way? It seemed obvious to Katherine that those who had chosen once to serve the Darkness because it was easier, because of the promises, empty or not, which Shira and her ilk had offered them, would do so again, particularly when there was no reason not to. Then, watching him, she realized he hadn’t expected things to go differently—he had only hoped they would.

“Go then,” Alesh croaked in a hoarse voice, “go and serve your masters. But remember that the path on which you walk is one you have chosen for yourself.”

If this was meant to scare the prisoners, it failed. The guards surrounding them moved to open a lane toward the distant forest. Snickering and laughing like children on holiday, the prisoners began to shuffle toward the forest where they would add to what, if the scouts were correct in their reports, were already the massive numbers of the Broken’s army.

Alesh watched them go with a stoic expression, having managed to get control of his emotions enough to hide his true feelings, but he could not hide the anguish in his gaze, at least not from Katherine who had grown to know him so well. It seemed to her that part of him died then, was dying with each step the group took toward the forest.

“Stay here,” Katherine said to Rion and Darl, both of whom were as stunned by Alesh’s decision as she was. She hurried toward Alesh, meaning to talk to him, meaning to say something, anything, that might answer some of the pain she saw in his eyes.

She had just reached him and was about to speak, when Captain Nordin beat her to it. “It’s time, Chosen.”

“I…” Alesh faltered, and at that moment, he didn’t look like the Chosen of the father of all the gods to Katherine, didn’t look like the ruler of a city, one who had faced down countless dangers and had done so with courage. Instead, he looked much as he had the first time she had seen him, like a young, confused man far outside of his element. “Maybe there’s another…”

“Forgive me, Chosen,” Nordin persisted, “but there isn’t.”

“Alesh?” Katherine asked, and he spun to look at her, apparently so distracted he hadn’t even noticed her approach. “What is it? What’s happening?”

He stared at her with an expression of utter guilt on his face, though why it might have been there, Katherine couldn’t guess. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a whisper. “I didn’t…” He took a slow, deep breath then, visibly calling on his resolve, and once more his face became stone, his expression unreadable. He looked back at the group of prisoners who had now made it halfway across the field toward the forest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, though whether it was to them or Katherine, she couldn’t have said for sure.

She meant to ask him what he was sorry for, what decision it was that was causing him so much pain, but before she could, he turned back to the captain. “Do it,” he grated in a hard, cold voice that didn’t sound like his at all.

Nordin nodded. “Yes, Chosen.” The captain raised his hand high above his head, then brought it down. As one, all of those hidden archers who, to this point, had remained seated with their backs propped against the battlements, rose, their bows in their hands. Before Katherine could fully understand what was happening, the strings of their bows hummed, and a flurry of arrows filled the sky.

“Oh gods,” she breathed, watching in horror as the steel-tipped missiles fell on the huddled mass of prisoners like rain, all of them still too busy congratulating themselves and celebrating their freedom to notice at first. Then, as the arrows descended, piercing flesh, they began to scream in shock and pain, at least half of their number falling to the first volley. This isn’t right, Katherine thought wildly, meaning to say as much, but the words were caught in her throat and in another moment a second volley rose from the archers along the battlements.

The prisoners had begun to run now, seeking the refuge of the woods, and Katherine saw a heavy-set old woman with gray hair struck by an arrow in her lower back. She stumbled and fell and was trampled seconds later by those behind her, all of them mad with fear and paying no attention to the woman they crushed in their eagerness to get away.

But the field was wide and open, the sun high in the sky, and there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so the prisoners did the only thing they could do—they died. They died in droves, shocking images of one then another going down in a bloody spray as the arrows struck home with malevolent purpose, and Katherine was too stunned to do anything but watch it happen.

In the end, there was only one prisoner left standing. The others had been turned, in a moment, to lifeless corpses or bloody forms writhing on the ground, screaming in pain, begging, pleading for help. And their pleas could be heard clearly even from this distance, for the city, like Katherine herself, had grown deathly silent, shocked into stillness by what had transpired.

The last prisoner, a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties, was still charging toward the tree line, closer now than any of his companions had made it, and Katherine watched his doomed charge unsure of whether she hoped he would make it away or not, unsure of what to think. But the young man’s hopes—perhaps, Katherine’s hopes—were dashed a moment later when the archers took aim, firing again, and a flurry of arrows descended on him, at least a dozen finding their mark in his flesh.

And then it was done, everyone on the battlements, everyone in the city itself, standing as still as statues, barely even able to breathe after what they had witnessed. And in that silence, in that stillness, Alesh spoke. “Waste no more arrows,” he said in a gruff voice. “I will lead a group of men out and finish it.” Any confusion Katherine might have had as to what he meant was answered a moment later as he drew the sword at his side and started toward the battlement stairs which would lead to the western gate.

He didn’t even glance at her as he moved past, and Katherine caught his arm. He spun on her then, so abruptly, that she let out an involuntary gasp, releasing him. Alesh stared at her with a cold, unreadable expression, his face a mask of stone, but she saw the pain, the hurt in his eyes, hurt which increased when he noted her reaction.

“A…Alesh,” she said in a whisper. “What…what have you done?”

“What I had to,” he said in a throaty whisper that was closer to a growl.

“But…those people…”

“Were servants of the Dark,” he answered. “I gave them a choice, and they chose wrong. Would they have been any kinder, were our situations reversed?”

Katherine wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter, that in fighting shadows, one must make sure not to become a shadow himself, but staring at his face, so cold and without emotion, the words would not come. What have you done? she thought desperately, barely aware of the tears filling her eyes. Not just to them, Alesh, but…to yourself?

“The Light reveals, Katherine,” he said, his voice a stranger’s voice, “the Light comforts. But to shadows, to those who seek refuge in the Darkness, the Light does more than that. The Light, Katherine, burns.”

Then he was walking away again, and she could only watch him, wanting to say something, but whether those words would have been ones of comfort or ones of recrimination she couldn’t guess, and they wouldn’t come in any case. She felt hollowed out, stained somehow. He killed them. She hated him, in that moment, hated herself too. After all, she and the others, Rion and Darl, had all known there was a problem with the prisoners, yet they had selfishly left it to Alesh, trusting that he would somehow find a solution to a problem which had none. But he had found one, hadn’t he? He killed them all.

She turned to look at Rion and Darl standing a short distance away, the terror and shock etched on both of their expressions making her own all the worse. Darl always had a way of viewing the world that had granted her peace and comfort. He had a way of simplifying things and understanding them. His wisdom had gotten her through dark times serving as Alashia’s agent and even in more recent days. Now though, if the Ferinan had any wisdom, anything that might somehow explain what had just happened, it was hidden deep beneath the dismay on his face. The two met her gaze, saying nothing, offering nothing. After all, after what they had just seen, what could anyone offer? What could anyone say?