Shattered Exile

EIGHT Promise-2

‘Did you give my regards to Heldran?’ enquired Marcus, finally accepting her brief explanation.

‘I did, though he seemed largely unimpressed.’

‘Ha, as expected. You had no luck then?’

‘On the contrary, I won his favour.’ she said, grinning mischievously.

‘And...?’ prompted Marcus, whom she could tell was eager to learn of her time spent with the knights.

‘Anika has decided to remain at the Ardent Gate, as a Knight of the Order. In addition, the Knights Thranis have agreed to train The Vengeful Tears, and – should they accept, and subsequently prove themselves able – they too will be welcomed into the Order and trained to become Knights themselves. Anika has agreed to facilitate any transitions.’

‘Excellent – you have achieved that which I could not. My faith in you, Rayna, was well placed I see.’

‘Perhaps you should reserve judgement – there is more that I need to tell you.’

‘Go on...’ said Marcus, who seemed unfazed by her sobering remark.

‘The Knights Thranis will not fight for our Order, but, they will fight for me.

The Blade Lord straightened his back and narrowed his eyes, whilst he digested the information she had imparted. Given his sudden change in body language, she considered the possibility that her proclamation had incurred Marcus’ ire. However, such thoughts were quickly dispelled, when Marcus’ initial stony expression slowly changed to that of a wry grin.

‘Rayna, your news is not entirely surprising. I have never personally known the Knights Thranis to lend their support readily. That they will fight alongside you – if requested – is achievement enough. You have accomplished the first steps in rebuilding a new trust between our orders. I applaud your efforts.’

‘Thank you, Marcus. It was never my intent to offend, or indeed to undermine your command.’

‘I have no doubt. Besides, a Freylarkin in my position quickly learns to develop a thick skin – Ragnar taught me that lesson well.’

Marcus’ quip put her at ease; they savoured the moment of shared amusement, all the while watching the subject of his comment below, who vigorously bellowed commands to a group of Adepts within earshot.

‘So...are you ready?’

‘To face Lothnar, you mean?’

‘Yes. I gather there has been much talk about your impending duel in the arena.’ said Marcus, changing the subject.

‘I must admit, the reality hasn’t sunk in yet.’

‘It needs to. Next cycle, these seats will be filled with Freylarkai, all eager to witness The Guardian duel one of Freylar’s finest at the Trials.’

‘Perhaps I should have shown more restraint during the war council, shortly after my arrival.’ she said, followed by an audible sigh.

‘Maybe, though perhaps you should see this as an opportunity.’

‘To advance my standing within The Blades, you mean?’

‘Exactly.’ replied Marcus, who leant forwards to better hear the Captain’s brazen barking below. ‘Your unconventional arrival in Freylar, coupled with word of your actions at Scrier’s Post, continues to win favour with the forest dwellers. Yet you still have doubters, in particular amongst the upper echelons of The Blades, and those civilian Freylarkai who live within the Tri-Spires.’

‘I am curious – is Ragnar aware that you are grooming me?’

‘Ha, you know the Captain shares your boldness, Rayna, though he lacks your perception – the combination is refreshing.’

‘Do you think that you will answer my question?’ she pressed, offering The Blade Lord a casual wink.

‘Oh, I think he knows – in fact, I believe he is counting on it. However, you cannot expect to command The Blades without their unwavering loyalty. Rallying the Aspirants and Novices is one thing, and you have done well to earn the respect of several high-ranking members of the Order, in addition to wining favour with the Knights Thranis. However, the remaining members of our Order will not follow you until you have proven your mettle in that arena.’

‘No pressure then.’

‘Not unless you create it.’ replied Marcus, who turned to face her. ‘When you enter that arena, ensure that you do so with clarity of mind – that will be your greatest weapon. Few can match Lothnar’s skill, and of those, most have much more experience than you. If you mean to best him through skill alone, you will fail. You will need to find another way.’

‘Others have imparted similar advice.’

‘And well they should. Your unique reputation now balances precariously upon a fulcrum. You can choose to either serve as a rank and file member of the Order, or alternatively, you can use the momentum you have gained to become something more.’

They sat in silence for a moment, whilst she considered her options from Marcus’ perspective. The Blade Lord’s use of the words “rank and file” was curious. Reading between the lines, she could disappear into comfortable obscurity within the Order, or instead capitalise on her increasing popularity, and push herself, in the hope of elevating her rank. As a former member of the Shadow class, however, she had very little career ambition. Yet now an opportunity presented itself, which – in theory at least – would allow her to make a difference. Given that losing to Lothnar would ultimately decide her fate, the crux of the matter, therefore, was the extent to which she was prepared to go to in order to succeed. Thinking back to her duel with Knight Lord Heldran – albeit, one that was cut short – she recalled the thrill of the encounter, along with her desire to succeed. Heldran had applauded her creativity in her attempts to best him, yet he had also urged her to dispense with etiquette. “Combat is not an art form” – she recalled the Knight Lord’s words well. Since that time, she had learned first-hand the merits of Heldran’s counsel, and had adapted her fighting style accordingly. Her long years spent surviving in the metropolis, in addition to her intense combat training in Freylar, had developed her battlefield cunning. She knew how to fight dirty, and she had become good at it.

‘Make sure that you have a front row seat.’ she said, once again grinning mischievously.

‘Good. I look forward to it.’

She stood up and stretched her neck muscles. Below, Ragnar continued to drill the Order’s Adepts, who tried their best to meet the boisterous Captain’s lofty expectations. She sighed as Ragnar caught her eye, subsequently directing his left arm towards her.

‘Well, that was a mistake.’ said Marcus, in an amused tone.

She turned her head and offered The Blade Lord a dreary sidelong glance, prompting him to laugh aloud.

‘Rayna! Get down here and show this lot how it is done!’ bellowed the Captain of The Blades.

‘Marcus, I have to go now – I made a promise to the Knights Thranis, one which I intend to keep.’

‘Understood. Please give The Vengeful Tears my blessing should they decide to accept Heldran’s offer.’ Marcus replied. ‘Oh, and please do not keep him waiting – he is even harder to work with when riled.’

‘Indeed I shall not. And don’t worry about Ragnar – this won’t take long.’

Her attempts to reach her personal quarters were thwarted repeatedly, following her return to the Tri-Spires. Upon entering the base of the organic citadel, she was immediately set upon by numerous aides, all clamouring for her attention. Each was understandably anxious about the final preparations for the Trials. Although she appreciated their concerns, and their need to discuss certain matters with her, nonetheless, her mind remained distracted by the impromptu arrival of her sister, and the likely ramifications of Darlia’s return. She had tried numerous times that morning – whilst lying in bed – to scry the outcome of their planned course of action, however, Rayna’s involvement had hindered her second sight, as Darlia had predicted. The Guardian’s latent ability to disrupt scrying was curious. Just as a stream would part around a rock, fate – so it seemed – appeared to flow around The Guardian. Anyone, or anything, in contact with Rayna exhibited the same phenomenon – albeit for only a brief time – as though granted temporary immunity to the fates as a direct result of The Guardian’s presence. A sense of foreboding lingered in the pit of her stomach, given her inability to foresee the outcome of their intent. She hoped dearly that when the moment finally came, any anxieties which she had would be dispelled, and play no part in hindering her role in their carefully orchestrated ruse. Rayna’s involvement, however, ensured that there would be no guarantees that their efforts would bear fruit. Regardless, they had unanimously agreed that support from The Guardian would strengthen their position.

‘Kirika, we have received word from the Cave of Wellbeing: eight renewalists will be present at the Trials, three of whom will be masters.’ explained Kayla, one of her closest aides.

‘Good. Nathaniel will also be present.’ she said, hurriedly, struggling to manage the growing number of Freylarkai around her.

‘Kirika, the number of delegates attending has been confirmed.’ said another.

‘Thank you. Please ensure ten percent contingency when finalising the catering arrangements.’

‘The Blade Lord has confirmed the queen’s security detail – and additionally, telekinetics will be present.’

‘Understood.’

It was some time before she finally made it to her private quarters, having appeased her aides. Their eager support made it possible for her to manage the increasing number of duties assigned to her, although at times their presence was overwhelming. She had no desire to become suffocated by her assigned entourage, yet despite her wishes, Mirielle had insisted that she use the resources provided to her. With the last of her aides finally dismissed, she collapsed into a comfortable chair in her quarters. She stared vacantly at the door to her chamber, half expecting another aide to come scuttling through. As she relaxed into the chair, her mind began to wander once more, with thoughts straying towards the potential ramifications of their agreed course of action. She tried to reassure herself that their decision had been solely in the best interests of Freylar, yet the steps they were about to take would be frowned upon by those with more politically attuned minds. The path ahead would be a difficult one, fraught with uncertainty – a concept with which she was largely unfamiliar. She closed her eyes, and was about to drift off, when a loud knock abruptly sounded at her door, startling her.

‘Come in.’

Kayla appeared once more, who she mistakenly thought had been appeased.

‘What is it Kayla?’

‘I am sorry to disturb you, yet again, Kirika, however, the Queen has asked that you report to her at your earliest convenience; she wishes to discuss the final arrangements for the Trials with you.’

She said nothing at first, and instead stared blankly at her aide. It was clear that Mirielle’s trust in her was far from absolute, not helped by their differing opinions over the recent curfew, and how best to manage Krashnar’s likely continued presence within the vale.

‘Please inform the Queen that I will meet with her shortly.’

Kayla nodded in acknowledgement, before taking her leave, closing the door behind her. She sighed heavily. No doubt Mirielle had noticed her recent absence from the Tri-Spires, and would use the opportunity to dig deeper into the reason for her lack of presence on the run up to the Trials. She had no qualms about being selective with the information she would present – if indeed an explanation was asked of her – however, the almost certain need for early subterfuge unsettled her. Steeling her nerves, she prepared herself for the challenges to come.