By the Pact

Chapter 2-1

2

The silence enveloped him. No sounds of battle, no buildings collapsing, and no blasts of magic disturbed it, just the quiet squeaking of wood and distant splashing. Their soothing rhythm made Ryell open his eyes, his thoughts heavy with the realization of where he was… where he shouldn’t be.

The small cabin’s only furniture was a table and a hammock, but he didn’t expect anything more from the scabby caravel he remembered from the burning port. Not only had it escaped the siege, but it was still seaworthy, and that within itself felt like the one last blessing from the Light.

“Lie still,” said a man. “Your wounds will open.”

As the man entered the cabin, Ryell recognized Tyddes, one of the merchants who’d tried to reach the port during the siege. Dark circles framed his eyes, and his pale face matched his unkempt clothing and short brown hair.

“No.” Ryell’s response was nothing more than a whisper. “I need to go back! My orders…”

“The city had already fallen when we left.” Tyddes didn’t hide his pain. “No point in dyin’ on that wharf…” He regarded Ryell in silence, gratitude as clear as his tiredness. “You saved my son’s life, all of our lives. We couldn’t have left you there.”

Ryell gave him a slow nod. He couldn’t blame the merchant for doing what felt right. “Anyone else make it?”

Silence sufficed for a reply, and Ryell closed his eyes, his chest heavy. Faws, Helkus, and others… Their faces remained fresh in his memory, and their smiles concealed their weariness. The last time he saw them, they’d prepared to fight to the end together, and all of them did, except for Ryell. He should have died there too, on the crumbling walls of his homeland’s capital.

More memories swarmed his thoughts like carnivorous fish. His muscles tensed as he recalled the countless battles with armies of twisted creatures and the powerful demons commanding from afar, making their servant demonologists summon even more monsters. His thoughts resembled streams of blood marking the battlefields as he reminisced on the defeats that forced retreat after retreat until nothing was left but the capital. The siege lasted months, pushing the refugees to the brink of desperation as the magical barrier that protected them weakened steadily over the weeks. With only the ocean behind them… Ryell exhaled at the memory of the capital’s final days, when its white marble turned red.

“They were brave warriors,” Tyddes said. “The queen will honor their sacrifice.”

Two of his words felt like a slap on the cheek, and Ryell’s vision blurred with rage. The queen. Until the last moments of the siege, he’d hoped Cahala qi’Devanshari hadn’t made it from the fallen city, that she died when the palace collapsed under enemy fire. Ryell clenched his jaw so hard his teeth gritted.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” Tyddes offered a compassionate glance—to Ryell’s relief, misinterpreting the situation. “They’ll live in your memories, and maybe one day you’ll go back to our land and avenge them.”

Avenge them… This suggestion brought comfort even if Ryell had something else in mind than picturing himself as the commander leading Devanshari soldiers against demons. He took a deep breath. He was meant to die with the others, and if by the Light’s whim he survived, there must have been a reason. He’d get that treacherous gaharra. He’d make her pay.

Tyddes smiled as if sensing the shift in Ryell’s mood. “We’ll signal the queen’s ship. I’m sure they have more suitable quarters for a hero like you.”

“No need, my friend.” Ryell stopped him with a gesture, his heart racing all of a sudden. The queen couldn’t know he survived. “I’ll stay here. I promised to get you to safety, and I’ll see it through, even if it means sharing hardships with you.”

The merchant’s face changed, and only guilt rang in his voice when he replied, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but we have very meager supplies of the Light’s essence. If we were to share them with yet another person… It’s already dire as it is. The queen’s ship must have a bigger stock, and they’d surely spare some for a war hero.”

Ryell closed his eyes, considering his choices. His body already ached with longing for the essence, but he’d spent years on the border, away from the capital and Hajihali itself. This alone should have made him more resistant to its power and to the addiction, and the rage that burnt through his body at every thought of the queen should help divert his thoughts from the physical symptoms. Of course, the need for the artifact’s magic ran deep in his people’s veins, and the price for keeping his body starved for the Light would likely be high, but well worth paying if he could hide away from the queen’s eyes.

“I’d like to stay here.” He chose his words with caution. “I can do without the essence; we were trained for it. I don’t want to be treated like a hero when so many of my comrades have fallen. I’d rather see to your safe passage and make sure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

Tyddes’s face softened. “I’m sure we can arrange that. I’ll let the royal ship know, so they can spare some of their supplies—”

“Don’t tell them I’m here.” Ryell sat up, despite his body rebelling against the sudden movement and screaming the extent of his wounds. “They mustn’t know.” He leaned forward, ignoring his chest’s pain. With Tyddes so insistent, he had no choice but share at least a portion of his knowledge. “Can you keep a secret?”

The merchant gave him a startled gaze and nodded with hesitation, as if hoping he could have denied Ryell.

Ryell lowered his voice. “I think there’s a traitor in the queen’s entourage. Someone who helped the enemy and might be threatening our lady’s life.”

“A traitor!” Tyddes covered his mouth, and his eyes widened. “This needs to be reported.”

“In due time. Acting too soon would alert the traitor.”

Tyddes shifted uneasily. “But I… I don’t think I’m…”

Ryell shook his head. “I don’t expect anything from you, my friend, but you’re the only one I can trust. If the traitor learns I’m alive, something might happen before I can present the evidence. You know yourself how things can be.” The moment he spoke, he knew he’d struck the right chord. Even if Tyddes tried to remain an honest merchant and a man of his word, he must have witnessed underhanded dealings and dirty politics. He must have known what happened to all the inconvenient witnesses, unruly protesters, and political opposition. Mentioning that the traitor was close to the queen implied there was enough power and influence at play to threaten Ryell.

“I understand. I’ll tell others you’re wounded and mourning, and you wish to be alone. They should understand.”

Ryell hid his relief. One wrong word, and his hopes for revenge could have been crushed. “Thank you, my friend. I’ll be forever in your debt.” It served his plan well that Tyddes preferred to avoid details. It seemed better if the poor man had no idea how deep the treachery ran.

“A man who risked his life to save my only child needn’t speak of debts. It’s the least I can do.” Tyddes headed for the door. “Rest now, please. Your wounds need to heal.”

All Ryell could muster was an absent-minded nod as the merchant left. He hardly remembered anything from the pier, only the sight of his sword and the wave of demonlings rushing toward him. The sailors on the caravel threw burning oil jugs in vain attempts to keep the monsters away, and the thick smoke concealed the port, forcing Ryell to focus on the creatures before him. Even if the images of the fight remained blurry, the pain of his flesh ripped by claws remained vivid. He stood on that pier alone, so how did he end up on board? The merchants must have gone back for him after he collapsed, and he swallowed heavily at the thought that some might have died while trying to keep him out of death’s clutches. He couldn’t bring them back to life, but he could bring the traitor to justice, even if it meant he’d have to make a stand against the queen herself.