Horizon (In the Absence of Kings Book 3) Read online

  Garreth ventured to the Crown Aegis pavilion that was south of the city and was wedged between the harbour, the city’s southern gates, and the western coast of the sea. Beyond the Crown Aegis banners atop a set of shady alcoves, the swirling sea was in full display. From small fishing vessels with their rods cast afar to the bulky trade galleons making their way from the capital to Malquia’s far ends, the waves rippled between the coming and going of ships. Bordered by two rotundas on cornering sides was the training ground for martial routines where Headmaster Eyrn was drilling a group of Crown Aegis in longsword techniques. The two shared a glance and a nod as Garreth made his way to the command tent farthest south where he expected to find his mentor on these days of increasing warmth and sun.

  “Glad to see you made it out in one piece, old man,” Garreth spoke before he cracked a grin.

  “Yes, but one piece is all I am now. So much was lost last night. So much of the past and so much of me,” Berault mumbled as he continued to scratch at parchment.

  Garreth nodded slowly. His mentor had quite the collection of weapons since the earliest days of his service of the King as well as numerous, timeless mementos; the man’s ties to Malquia’s history.

  “Fret not, you have more than enough well-wishers that want to see you in good home again. I’d imagine you won’t be staying in the Lower Quarter any longer?” Garreth questioned.

  “Lord Cross came around in the morning and offered me a room in the Golden Key. I’m not sure how, but I’ll have to make it home somehow,” Berault replied, not looking up from his writing.

  His scrawling steadily grew quicker until it almost seemed a frenzy and then came to a dead stop before Berault looked up into Garreth’s eyes.

  “We have to find the bastard who did this. Those blood red eyes, the tattered black garb like wisps of darkness. It has to be him. The man who killed the King,” Berault stated, fists clenched against the flat of the table.

  “That does sound like the description the Queen has graced us with. Are you sure it was him? And why target you?” Garreth countered.

  “You know as well as I do. After the Queen’s betrayal, she is no more than a figurehead now. Between the courts, Lord Cross, and I, there are few people with real power in this city left. Need I remind you who led the army to Deepshine in those fateful days?” Berault explained, nearly losing his balance as he stood up from his chair.

  “What’s with your leg? I thought that limp had healed before the winter let out,” Garreth asked with an eyebrow raised curiously.

  “Since the attack last night. I took a step too far. The physician says it’s poison,” Berault grumbled as he lifted up his tunic to reveal the wound on the side of his stomach.

  It was hardly a deep cut, but yellow pus seemed to be building around its edges.

  “Shouldn’t it be bandaged?” Garreth inquired.

  “Physician said it should be open to breathe and have time to drain. I have another meeting tonight, so it will probably happen then,” Berault explained.

  Garreth nodded but said little else and did not want to betray his worry any further.

  “Never mind me. I want you to dig up any information you can on this assassin. Hit the docks, the Trade District, the bazaar… wherever word of mouth comes and goes.” Berault ordered.

  “Will do. You just take it easy now.” Garreth said with a nod.

  “You watch yourself, lad,” Berault said, slapping his backhand and stepping toward Garreth.

  “Agh!” the man spoke as he fell to the grassy floor below, his legs giving out below him.

  Garreth knelt down and offered his arm, but Berault could not seem to move.

  “My legs! Both my legs! What in the hell!” Berault yelled, striking his palm to his thigh.

  “I think you’re getting worse. We should get you some help now. Guard!” Garreth called out, waving a nearby sentry down.

  Together with the guard, Garreth lifted Berault, and the three hobbled their way into the city. Through the rustic Lower Quarter, through the busy market of the Trade District, and finally to a stop in the Upper Quarter, they took Berault to his room in the Golden Key. Garreth dismissed the guard with thanks, asking him to go find Berault’s attending physician.

  “It’s both legs now. Yesterday, earlier this morning, it was only the right. Now both are completely frozen. It’s not like they are unresponsive, but they feel tensed to the extreme… so tense I can’t even move them,” Berault explained, lying down upon the wide bed when the physician arrived.

  The physician took a look at the wound and pursed his lips.

  “The cut on your arm seems clean. It carries none of the marks that this wound below does. If I had to assume, I’d say the wounds came from different blades entirely. I think the wound has had proper time to breathe now. If you were indeed poisoned, there is little we can do but bandage it up and continue to apply remedies,” the physician announced with a gentle hand on Berault’s shoulder.

  “So, he was poisoned then? Have you identified what reagents were used?” Garreth inquired.

  “Against the two most obvious symptoms, paralysation due to tenseness and the pain arising from that, we have tried all the common cures… blackbrine gall, stoneclaw stems, and cap of Murlosse, but none of them have alleviated the problem,” the physican explained, looking over his parchment.

  “If my attacker came from outside of Malquia, would the poison he used be native to his homeland as well?” Berault asked, gasping as his leg twitched.

  “That would be plausible and would explain why you have not responded to medication yet,” the physican concurred.

  “Well then, I better get to work on finding any information I can. Rest up and try not to get any worse.” Garreth offered as he took his full height, looking over his laid-out mentor.

  Berault nodded and tried to relax. The physician nodded at Garreth and then returned his attention to the curious wounds across his patient.

  Chapter Three

  The last light of sundown was fading as Garreth, tired and trying not to feel defeated, returned to his home on the Cornerstone Arms. He had searched the free merchant’s bazaar at the southern gates, made his way to the harbour, then into the city to stop at the Cavorting Cat and the Sword and Sickle in the Lower Quarter, and then set off north to the bustling Trade District to bother the merchants. Regardless of his thoroughness, it had seemed no one had any information on the blood-eyed assailant, other than hearsay from the Vyse’s trial months ago. It had seemed the assassin had made his way in and out of the city once again, detected only by a single soul. He would be a difficult mark, Garreth mused.

  Garreth made his way into the apartment and plopped down into his chair in front of the wide window. The streets in the Upper Quarter were just as quiet as his apartment had been for the last two weeks. Ilsa Vemsdower, the love of Garreth’s life, had gone north to New Deepshine to visit her parents, who had taken over the management of the Blackwoods’ mining operation there and had helped turn the former warzone into a bustling port city. In fact, Garreth was expecting Ilsa to return home that very night, so he waited quiet and still and watched as the ornate lamps of the Upper Quarter were lit and pedestrians strolled by.

  Garreth was staring down into the Upper Quarter when suddenly a black-draped arm fell below his vision and gripped his neck. The arm held him close, and Garreth attempted to wrench his fingers in between without success. Panicked, he grabbed onto the person he could not see, kneeled, and then rolled, pulling his attacker up over his back. Garreth’s face was teased by black hair as the figure fell in front of him with a thump onto its behind.

  “Owwww!” the person moaned, rolling onto its side on the carpet.

  “Why’d you do that for?” the voice whimpered as it rubbed at its spine.

  “Dammit Ilsa, I could have killed you,” Garreth told her as he helped her to her feet.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Ilsa retorted, giving Garreth a quick kiss. “What’s got
ten into you?”

  “I’m just a little on edge. Berault was attacked last night, and the Salty Dog was burnt down. He claims it was the assassin that killed the King,” Garreth explained.

  “Oh my… that does sound severe,” Ilsa teased.

  There was silence for a time, and the two looked at each other. He could not help but crack a smile at her sarcastic grin. Her aloofness was a welcome remedy to Garreth’s pent-up seriousness, and he was happy to have her home.

  “How is your family,” Garreth asked as Ilsa went around the room and lit some candles.

  “Oh, they are well as be, I suppose. Bouldershade is much better nowadays. Many of the residents who were dislocated by the Vandarian attack have finally settled into their homes. With every building rebuilt, the town is much more tidy and clean. The shale mine has been reopened under my brother’s management, and he built a manse on the ruins of the old one. It looks very similar, but it will never be my home again. Oh, he also took a wife. My father disagrees, seeing how she is a commoner. She is very pretty though, and Mother is glad for them. My hometown has been reborn, and I couldn’t be happier for that.

  “New Deepshine is continues to fare well. Lord Vyse’s manor was torn to the ground. My father said he wouldn’t live in the same house as a tyrant, so they built a new one on the same spot. Father does the same old work managing the mine while Mother likes to keep busy with the members of the community. The Deepshine pit employs a similar amount of miners as Bouldershade does, but the sunsteel is obviously much more valuable. To host the new miners and their families, there are a bunch of new places like a merchant’s pavilion, two taverns, an inn, and a stable as well as an entire lot of cabins and log houses to shelter the community. The harbour is cleaner now and sees so many ships sending sunsteel to all around Malquia. The southern forest that was demolished by the Blackwoods has recently been undergoing recovery because teams of men and women have been tearing out old stumps and planting new seeds. In the years to come, the place will return to its natural beauty. I know how much you’d like that,” Ilsa explained.

  “Then things are still well there. I am glad,” Garreth replied.

  “And things are still well here. Even if that beloved and reeking bar of yours has fallen to ashes and dust, it will take more than one assassin to ruin the peace we fought so hard to achieve,” Ilsa stated as she raised his hand in hers and kissed it.

  “This is the first attack we have had since Berault sent word back to the Vandari. They obviously have no intentions of making peace even if it was a far off hope. I loved that reeking bar, and Berault is just as important to Malquia as he is to me. This trespass cannot go unpunished. We cannot allow them to strike again, for they may take something even more important the next time. There must be vengeance. I have to find that man,” Garreth swore, clenching his empty fist.

  His fist unclenched at the sound of knocking at the door, and the two rose to see who would be calling after sundown. They opened to see a tanned face that they had not seen so frequently, one who was round with child and glowing with motherly pride.

  “Tamil! Welcome! Please come in and have a seat,” Garreth cheered, waving her into the common room with a smile.

  Ilsa hugged Garreth’s former comrade and took her into the seating area.

  “Can I get you some tea?” Ilsa inquired, laying a hand on her guest’s.

  “Please,” Tamil replied with a nod.

  “So, what do we owe the pleasure?” Garreth asked.

  He had only seen Tamil a handful of times after the Battle of Deepshine. Tamil’s devotion to the Crown Aegis only came second to her family, who had missed her dearly during her campaign with Garreth against the Blackwoods across Malquia. She had followed Garreth into the far forests to strike out at the Blackwoods’ camp of bandits and highwaymen and had been the one to carry their dear friend Kayten out of the Amatharsan dungeon after her kidnapping. After the war, she finally had time to fall into the rhythms of family life once again. As they saw her as round as she had become, she was embracing that life with everything she was once again.

  “Boy or girl. What are you hoping for?” Ilsa asked as she brought down a cup of hot tea.

  “Oh, a girl I hope. All my boys are turning into young men. All of them want to join the Crown Aegis just like their mother. I’m so proud, but I’d just like to show my little girl the softer side of life,” Tamil said with a smile as she rubbed at her belly.

  “That’s lovely. We’re happy for you,” Ilsa added.

  “But that’s not why I’m here. After my husband told me about the fire at the tavern last night, I heard about Berault’s attack. I went to go see him a while earlier, and he seems to be quite uncomfortable, more likely from boredom though. As he told me about the assassin with red eyes, I was shocked. For you see, red eyes are completely foreign to Malquia but are rare in my homeland across the sea,” Tamil began after taking a sip of tea.

  Garreth sat up in his chair. This was the clue he was looking for in his search; the beginning of the trail that would lead to the King’s killer.

  “Kal’resh, the nation I was borne too, lies west across the sea for a longer distance than I can imagine. I traveled from there when I was a little girl with my family. I was so young I could hardly remember. When news of the King’s assassin left the courthouse, it was my mother who said that he must have crossed an ocean to come here. She has not been very sharp in her old age, but she told us that red eyes were a product of our homeland. I think I may I found someone who might be able to give you some more information,” Tamil explained.

  “That’s very helpful of you. When do I meet this person?” Garreth asked.

  “Tomorrow. Come to the docks when his ship comes in. Just look for me,” Tamil offered.

  Garreth nodded and lay back against the chair. Conversation turned to quiet things, common things, and the rest of the night was relatively unexciting, but Garreth could hardly wait until the following day to begin his next great hunt.

  As steadfast as a crowing rooster on a farm, a single strip of light finally made its way around the cabin to rest upon Novas’ head. The sun’s rays lit the wavy chestnut brown tufts of Novas’ hair, and his lean cheeks and straight jawline cut shallow shadows across his face. The sunrise drew him from the darkness of sleep into the dawn of morning. With a yawn, he opened his verdant green eyes and moved to sit up but found himself pinned to the bed. On his right arm and near heart, the head of his dearest Kayten lay. The pillars of light brightened her light red hair like wildfire and turned her spattering of freckles into tiny sparks and cinders. He felt her gentle breathing and did his best to move her to the pillow without waking her, but he could not escape the bed before Kayten reached out and secured him by the bottoms, pulling him back into bed.

  “Good morning,” Novas spoke as he fell onto her with a kiss.

  She mumbled a warm response and kissed him back before rolling under the covers again, unwilling to meet the light of the day.

  No longer a boy, forged by the tutelage of his father Garreth’s wise guidance and the weaponmasters of the Crown Aegis, and tempered by the fires of conflict and the oaths to his homeland, Novas stood nearly tall as Garreth now and was just as lean and toned. He sighed, dressed himself, and then found himself standing against the outside of their forest cabin, watching the sunrise beam through the woods.

  Spring was in bloom, and colour was finally returning to the forest. He was beginning to tire of the immutable brown of the late winter that had surrounded him, and Novas was pleased when the green returned and was followed by the speckles and blossoms of an entire rainbow of colour. Beyond the clearing of their cabin, quaint and shapely with flowing grasses, a forest extended to the western cliffs of the sea and stretched east nearly all the way to the Great South Road. It was a giant wood, and it was his responsibility to ensure that it continued to flourish just as it was his father’s responsibility before him as appointed by the King.

  “We n
eed some more thyme. Would you mind cooking up some of that tasty bacon? I’ll bring back some berries too,” Kayten asked as she left the cabin and stood beside him, tying her hair into a tail and fastening the sash on her cloth wrap.

  Novas chuckled, nodded, and nudged her onwards before returning to the cabin pantry to grab some of the salted pork. Novas carried the meat to the outside of the cabin where a new construction lay on the side of it. Unwilling to part from her craft of blacksmithing, Kayten constructed an open-walled forge on the side of the cabin home, which was complete with an overhang of logs, an anvil, and a newly constructed stove for cooking. Novas set the meat down upon the grill, lit the fire inside the oven, and closed the thin metal lid. Before long, the thin strips of meat were curling and crisping, and the most delicious aroma began to waft from the grill. Novas’ stomach growled deeper than usual, and he cooked more than enough for both of them.

  Kayten returned soon after and cleaned the blueberries, raspberries, and blackcurrants that she found. Then, she placed them in a bowl and helped Novas drag the dining table out into the sun. In the warmth of the new day, the two enjoyed their breakfast, often staring into each other’s eyes when their mouths were not filled with food. From the savoury crispness of the finely cooked bacon strips to the pungent flavours of the forest’s natural bounty, their meal was the perfect harmony of salty and sweet. They held each other’s hand for a time and stared off into the woods, letting the drifting birdsong take their thoughts away.

  “I could stay here forever,” Kayten said as she looked over at Novas.

  He nodded and smiled back; he truly loved her.

  “As could I,” Novas replied, staring back at her.

  They finished their meal as the sun continued its journey overhead, and they both looked at the two pieces of bacon that remained, unwilling and unable to eat them or let them go to waste. Novas whistled, imitating the birds that flittered in the trees around him, and then broke the bacon into small pieces. As he tossed a piece into the air, robins and sparrows swooped down into the clearing and darted away with their salty prize, adding some unexpected protein to their diet. Kayten giggled at the scene but then stood up and looked into the forest beyond.