Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 18

  Protector Raibyr seemed to come to this same conclusion and began digging his fingers even deeper into the dirt.

  “Will you stop that!” Lord Doran shouted, no longer able to stand watching the man dirty his hands unnecessarily.

  Protector Raibyr pulled his fingers out of the dirt and shot a look of contempt at Lord Doran then turned his gaze back to the gates and stared at them for several moments, when suddenly, his eyes widened and a small smile began to form at the corner of his lips.

  “This could be the very thing that places the outcome of this war in our favor.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lord Doran asked angrily. He thought for a moment that perhaps the man had lost his mind.

  “If the King’s army is here, that leaves the King unprotected! We could rush back to Lord Ivran and have the army march to Axendra and take her down while she is vulnerable!” Protector Raibyr gave Lord Doran a satisfied grin, as though he had just secured their victory. Lord Doran merely shook his head.

  “First of all, it would be a miracle if we somehow made it back to camp then to Axendra before Axendra’s army and the army of Bhrys return to the King.

  ‘Secondly, say we do take the castle, what then? When the two greatest armies return to find us there, they will attack and retake the city!” Lord Doran was even more frustrated than he had been before. “Lord Ivran made it very clear that we cannot attack without the aid of Bhrys.”

  “Then all of this has been for nothing.” Protector Raibyr said and he threw his hands up in the air as though he were surrendering.

  “Perhaps not.” Lord Doran replied. Never before had he given up hope and he certainly would not allow himself to start now.

  “What can we do?” Protector Raibyr asked.

  “We will do what we came here to do. We will go into the city and somehow seek an audience with Lady Omylia.”

  “But what if she has already turned her forces over to Axendra? They would have us thrown in the dungeons or executed.”

  “We came here to secure Bhrys for our cause and we are not leaving until we have attempted to do that very thing. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get into the city without being seen.”

  …

  Lord Guyon stood before the altar in the chapel of Bhrys, staring out to the crowd that had filled the small room. Lady Omylia had wasted no time in sending messengers throughout the city to announce their wedding. Many had come quickly at a last minute’s notice to witness the union of their Lady to Lord Guyon. He grew anxious as he stood before the people of Bhrys, watching them silently whisper to one another as they glanced sideways at him, no doubt wondering how he had convinced their lady to join with him in matrimony so quickly. He decided it best to ignore them, knowing this was the right decision. He was securing their futures and the future of the realm. His actions today would ensure victory for Lord Ivran. And so the people of Bhrys could either love him or hate him, it made no difference. In time, they would come to understand his intentions were good and decent.

  The chapel was only large enough to hold one hundred guests. The benches filled quickly and spectators began lining the walls. The only light that was needed came from the two large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling on either side of the entryway. Large vases of bright pink and yellow flowers had been placed along the aisle, guiding the way to the altar. Protector Josef stood next to his Lord as witness and both men watched in silence as the bride was brought forth.

  She was dressed in a bright yellow gown that reminded Lord Guyon of a warm summer day. The silk of her dress hung off her shoulders like drapes and flowed into sweeping sleeves that cascaded to the floor. Her hair had been pulled back into several small braids with bright yellow flowers sticking out in random places. Her face was aglow with a warm smile as she walked towards her groom and once she stood next to him, she held up her hand and Lord Guyon took it in his, giving it a gentle kiss. When his lips touched her flesh, the memory of the previous night flooded his mind and suddenly he was smiling even wider than Omylia.

  Once everyone was silent, the Priest began his regular wedding incantations in an ancient language that no one ever seemed to understand, not even the Priests. Lord Guyon stood patiently as the man spoke, waiting for the moment when he could rush his new bride back up to the tower and ravish her once again. But Omylia said last night we would not have the opportunity today. He shook the thought away, hoping she was wrong.

  To Lord Guyon, the ceremony seemed to take hours to complete. He stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the next with impatience and stared at the blabbering Priest with hard eyes. I wish this fool would hurry! He wanted to shout at the old man to get it over with already but instead, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes facing forward. He could not look at Lady Omylia without becoming aroused and so he avoided her altogether, at least until the wedding ceremony was over.

  He turned his gaze outward, towards the onlookers and immediately spotted Gerrim sitting in the first row next to a young woman with golden hair. He held her hand in his lap and whispered into her ear, making her smile.

  Finally, at long last, the Priest bent down and lifted the ceremonial wine glass from its pedestal and held it out to Lady Omylia. Custom dictated that the wife drank before her husband and she did so with a smile. She turned her gaze up towards Lord Guyon and peered at him over the rim of the glass and Lord Guyon found it impossible to look away from her now. When she handed the wine glass over to him, he smiled in return and drank the rest of the liquid down. It was harsh and bitter, as though the bottle had been kept in the sun for many years but he did not care. All he cared about was leaving the chapel and taking his bride to the keep where her bed was waiting.

  As soon as he set the empty wine glass down, the people in the chapel began to cheer. They cheered for joy at seeing their new Lord and Lady united. Lady Omylia took Lord Guyon’s hand in hers and both of them turned to face the few people of Bhrys who had come to witness the wedding. It seemed as though they could not be happier and Lord Guyon decided he could not be happier either. He turned his gaze to his bride and watched her wave and smile to her people. Though he was not attracted to her mousy appearances, he found himself oddly attracted to her confidence and knew she would give him many happy years.

  Lord Guyon decided the time had come for them to have some privacy. He leaned close to Lady Omylia and whispered; “come, my darling. Let us celebrate as husband and wife.” Omylia shot Lord Guyon a sly grin but before either of them could step down from the altar, the chapel doors were thrown open with urgency and a squire with sandy hair, dressed in dark robes, ran down the aisle as quick as his feet could carry him. When he reached the place where Lord Guyon and Lady Omylia stood, he stopped to catch his breath then shouted; “The army of Axendra is here!”

  “What?” Lord Guyon asked in surprise. “Where?” He could not bring himself to believe the young squire’s words.

  “At the gates, my Lord. They have come by the thousands and are filling the streets.”

  That means the High Protector has arrived! Lord Guyon’s hands began to shake as he imagined the black witch riding up to the castle of Bhrys and demanding the heads of Bhrys’s Lord and Lady.

  “It is not the High Protector who leads them.” Lady Omylia said. Lord Guyon turned to her in amazement, thinking once again that she had read his mind but she stared off into the distance with a glassy look upon her face.

  “No, my Lady,” the young squire confirmed, “tis a man. He says his name is Captain Theodoric Tholy and he demands an audience with you at once.”

  Lady Omylia turned her head towards Lord Guyon and whispered; “I told you we would not get the opportunity to consummate our marriage today.” Lord Guyon tried his best to hide his disappointment.

  “Then we must not keep the Captain waiting.” Lady Omylia replied, turning her gaze back to the squire boy. “Take the Captain and his men to the main hall and I shall meet them there.”

  “Yes
, my Lady.” The squire replied and he quickly turned and ran from the chapel.

  “And so it begins.” Lady Omylia said, mostly to herself.

  Lord Guyon turned to her in anger and squeezed her hand until she looked at him. “You knew this would happen! You knew that Axendra would come and yet you did not think to inform me!”

  “I knew that someone from Axendra would come on this day.” She replied in defense. “I did not know the King would send his entire army.”

  Lord Guyon dropped Lady Omylia’s hand and looked to the crowd, noticing upon their faces the look of panic that was expected from a people being invaded.

  “Do not fear, people of Bhrys.” Lord Guyon shouted. He turned the anger in his face to a smile to console the crowd. “The army of Axendra is just passing through. They shall be gone by nightfall.” Though Lord Guyon knew his words were unlikely true, he would say anything to keep a panic from starting. “Go back to your homes whilst we sort this out.”

  Lady Omylia and Lord Guyon watched in silence as the chapel began to empty. Once they were alone, Omylia turned to Lord Guyon and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Lord Guyon let out a surprised cry and stumbled from the altar. He grasped his cheek, feeling the sting of the blow but he was more shocked by the blow than he was in pain. Lady Omylia was a tiny woman with frail hands and he was certain the hit had done more damage to her wrist than to his face.

  “How dare you lie to my people like that?” She shouted, not caring if there was anyone else around to hear. “You know full well the army of Axendra is not just passing through!”

  “Forgive me.” He said in reply. He had not thought his words would upset his new wife so much. “I was only trying to prevent a panic!” He tried to explain but Omylia shook her head.

  “I do not treat my people like sheep and I never lie to them! They are entitled to the truth so they may have ample time to prepare in case they are called to fight, which they will be!”

  Lady Omylia grasped the hem of her gown and lifted it over her feet as she shuffled down the steps of the altar and through the chapel. Lord Guyon followed closely behind, not daring to walk beside her. When they stepped outside, they were greeted with the warm, morning sun and a thousand strange faces. The army really had filled the streets and all were standing idly, waiting for the moment when their Captain would return and give them orders. Lady Omylia and Lord Guyon had to shove their way through the crowd to get to the castle. They found Protector Josef waiting outside the castle doors. He nodded to Lord Guyon as he passed and fell in behind him.

  Once inside, Lord Guyon grasped Lady Omylia by the hand and pulled her aside. She turned with surprise and looked Lord Guyon directly in the eyes, wondering what he had stopped her for.

  “I apologized to you for my behavior a few moments ago and you said nothing.” He tightened his grasp on her tiny wrist as she tried to pull it away. “I will not be treated this way. I am your husband now and you are my wife and together we rule Bhrys. I shall deal with the people as I see fit!” Lady Omylia seemed taken aback by Lord Guyon’s sudden anger. He finally loosened his grip on her wrist and allowed her to pull it free from his grasp.

  “You cannot order me around!” She shouted at him in anger. “I told you yesterday I will not be treated like some common house wife!”

  “Then do not treat me as a commoner that you can lay your hands on. I am the Lord of Elipol and now the Lord of Bhrys and I demand respect, just as you do.” Suddenly, Lord Guyon’s anger subsided and he saw pass over his wife’s face a flash of shame. He grabbed both her wrists once again and held them gently, trying to calm her.

  “We must work together.” He said in a softer tone. “From here on out, we are partners and Elipol is just as much yours as Bhrys is now mine.”

  Lady Omylia’s eyes darted from one side to the next as though she was looking for someone to come rescue her. When it became apparent that she could not escape, she turned her gaze back to her husband and nodded in surrender.

  “You are right.” She said in a small voice. “We must work together.” She pulled her wrists free and with one hand, took Lord Guyon’s in her grasp. “Come. Let us deal with this Captain of Axendra together.” And she led him down the corridor and into the main hall where they found Captain Theodoric standing in front of the hearth with ten men on either side of him standing guard. Several of Lady Omylia’s servants had retreated to the edges of the room, eyeing the guards with suspicion and fear. The sunlight from outside seemed to be drawn away by the dark looks of the Captain and his guardsmen; the light from the hearth did nothing but cast the intruders in shadow. Lord Guyon took in a deep breath of air to calm his nerves as he approached the large man named Theodoric.

  Lord Guyon followed behind his new wife slowly, carefully placing each of his steps where her feet had just touched the ground. He suddenly cared not for appearances, giving no thought to whether he looked to be a coward. He could not bring himself to face the Captain of Axendra, for he was certain the man knew he was helping Lord Ivran and had come here to kill him.

  As he approached, his forehead began to drip with sweat and his hands shook as Captain Theodoric looked to him with what he thought were accusing eyes. They were hard as stone and as fierce as a shadow cat’s hungry stare. The orange haze from the firelight that danced in the confined room burned through his eyes and dashed across the room to pierce through Lord Guyon, forcing him to turn away in discomfort. He knows! He sees me!

  Lord Guyon’s footsteps halted when his wife’s footsteps stopped. He kept his gaze turned downward as he took in a deep breath. Relax you fool! He scolded himself. There is no way the Captain could know of your betrayal to the crown! One look in your guilty eyes, however, will tell him all your secrets. He waited until the shaking in his hands subsided before looking up. The Captain’s eyes had turned away from him as his wife stepped forward and held out her dainty hand for the Captain to take in his.

  “Captain Theodoric.” She said in her soft, placid voice. Her eyes never ceased to follow the Captain as he bent down low to place a gentle kiss on the flesh of her hand.

  “Lady Omylia.” He said as he stood up tall. He released his grip on Lady Omylia’s hand quickly, as though the touch of her flesh was burning him. His eyes turned quickly away towards Lord Guyon and he gave a simple nod of acknowledgment.

  “My Lord.” He said in a much gruffer voice than when he was speaking to Omylia. “I think congratulations are in order.” The tall Captain added as he turned and made his way toward the hearth. He stood before an armchair and fell into it without grace. The soft cushion of the chair puffed up on all sides and looked about to burst from the sudden force of weight, but Captain Theodoric paid it no mind. He shifted his weight forward, trying to find a comfortable position against the chainmail and tight, boiled leather that confined him.

  Lady Omylia took Lord Guyon’s hand in hers and guided him to the other empty chairs. They sat next to each other, hand-in-hand. Lady Omylia stroked her husband’s wrist encouragingly, as though she knew that his nerves were getting the better of him. She gazed at him curiously as she ran her fingers over the palm of his hand. Lord Guyon could not help but feel like less of a man as he stared into his wife’s eyes. They were calm and fearless where his, he knew, were full of terror. She can be calm because she has not committed a crime against the crown! Not yet at least. Then he realized the simple act of marrying him was enough to accuse her of treason. Should he be marched to Axendra in chains, so would his new bride. Their bodies would swing from the same scaffold; the ropes of their nooses intertwining as their corpses blew in the wind. And the north would forever be lost to Lord Ivran.

  Lady Omylia furrowed her brow at Lord Guyon and he thought he saw the slightest tilt of her head, suggesting that he should not think such thoughts.

  “My Lord and Lady,” Captain Theodoric began. “I have come here on behalf of King Firion and for the future of the realm.”

  “We know why you are
here, Captain.” Lady Omylia replied. She released her grip on Lord Guyon’s hand and sat up as tall as possible while speaking to the Captain. Lord Guyon did the same, not wanting Captain Theodoric to see how intimidated he was by his presence.

  “Good.” Theodoric replied. “That shall save us some time then.”

  “Forgive me, Captain, but have you been offered anything to drink? Have your men been offered any? It is not usual for my servants to forget their manners!” She turned a stern eye to the meek servants who stood in the shadows. All of them stepped forward with haste and grabbed the wine flagons that had not been touched.

  “I never drink.” Captain Theodoric responded as he waved away a serving girl. “Nor do my men when they are in my company. Perhaps the High Protector’s rules are more lax but she is not here.” Lord Guyon could not help but notice the disappointed looks of the Captain’s men as the servants retreated silently to the shadows.

  “And where is the High Protector? It is unusual that she would not attend to these matters personally.”

  Captain Theodoric stiffened at the question, giving the impression he did not wish to divulge the real answer.

  “She has other matters to attend to.” Was all he said and Lord Guyon watched as he pulled the thick, leather gloves from his hands and began rubbing his fingers nervously.

  The Captain is as uncomfortable as I am! Lord Guyon nearly laughed aloud but kept his calm demeanor. Something has happened to the High Protector and the Captain has been advised against telling us.

  Lord Guyon had finally found the boost of confidence he needed. He felt the pounding in his chest subside and wiped away the sweat of his palms on his woolen pants.

  “That is unfortunate.” He said and both Lady Omylia and Captain Theodoric turned to him in surprise, as though neither of them expected him to speak at all. “I was hoping to have the opportunity to meet High Protector Rhada.”