Before the Stormweathers returned, Norrel was moved into a cell. The walls were made of solid stone and iron bars held him there. But it was well kept, there were no rodents running around, and there was a window to let light into the room. They placed him in the cell next to Sebastian’s. Sebastian snored loudly which Norrel found to be a comfort. It meant the man was alive and resting. That’s all he was hoping for. If they could either escape before Leonis arrived or if Sebastian and he could die together, it would be enough for Norrel.
The day was hot, as all days seemed to be in Ardor lately. He was glad to be inside but the heat was still oppressive. He wished he had drunk some of the wine or at least the water before they dragged him down here.
He was startled out of his thoughts when Ellyn Grimstock came toward him carrying a tray. This time two men carrying halberds followed. They remained behind her, menacing looks on their faces. She approached the cell but kept her eyes pointed toward the ground.
Norrel eyed the woman and sat up.
“More drinks for your lords to explode in front of me?” Norrel asked.
“Not this time. Can’t let you die of dehydration. We’ve never lost a prisoner here for poor care. Or so I’ve been told.” Ellyn slid the drink through the bars.
“If I can’t tend to my friend, he’ll be the first. What do you say you have those men let me take a look?” Norrel figured it was worth a shot. You don’t eat any rabbits if you fire no arrows.
Ellyn looked at the men behind her. They shook their heads.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, we have the best medics here. They’ll take good care of him,” Ellyn turned to leave.
“You don’t.” Norrel grasped the bars in his hands, trying to get Ellyn to turn back. She did.
“Don’t what?”
“Have the best medics. It’s impossible for you to have the best medics.” Damn these bars.
“I know they’re good, they’ve treated me,” Ellyn turned once again to leave.
“Aye. That may be. But they are not the best, because I am the best medic you’ll ever meet. I’ve cured hundreds of men, women, and children, thousands of wounds, illnesses and ailments. I need to see my companion. I would welcome any guards you wish in the room. All I ask is for a look,” Norrel heard the pleading in his voice and hated it.
“You’ll have to take it up with the Stormweathers.” This time she did leave.
Less than an hour later the father and son appeared. They wore no adornment other than the rubies in their daggers. Their tunics were black with silver lining and were it not for the age difference they could have been twins.
“I’m surprised the two of you are here. I would have thought you would have gone scurrying out to find Leonis by now,” Norrel didn’t bother standing up from his bunk.
“We thought it might be more useful to get you to open up than to go riding out not knowing where Leonis is. So, where is he?” Lord Stormweather asked.
“I don’t know. He could be anywhere by now but I suspect he’s on the march here.” Norrel shaded his eyes with his arm.
The son walked towards Sebastian’s cell. Norrel sat up.
“What are you doing?” Norrel asked.
“He’s just going to have a look at your friend. Seems he means a great deal to you,” Lord Stormweather smiled a malicious grin.
“He does. He needs help. Let me tend to his wounds.” Norrel was at the bars now.
“Feran, what’s he doing?” Lord Stormweather spoke casually as if he were asking about the weather.
“He’s sleeping. His breathing seems shallow though,” Feran replied.
“His wounds are serious. He needs his bandages changed. Let me do that and I’ll tell you everything I know. Just let me take a look,” Norrel felt the ache in his hands where he was gripping the bars.
“My son is going to watch everything you do. While you tend his wounds, you will tell me everything you know about Leonis. I want to know how they fight, how many there are, what Leonis is capable of and most of all, I want to know how to stop him from arriving here. Agreed?” Lord Stormweather had the key to the cell in his hand.
“Yes. Whatever you want, I’ll tell you. Just let me make sure he’s alright.”
As Lord Stormweather opened the door he pushed at Norrel’s chest with his other hand.
“One more thing. If I don’t like your answers, my son is going to provide more wounds for you to clean. Understood?”
Norrel looked into Dillan Stormweather’s eyes. They told the truth. Norrel nodded. Feran Stormweather opened the door to Sebastian’s cell.
Norrel rushed to Sebastian and knelt down. Before Norrel could ask for it one of the guards brought a bowl of hot water and fresh bandages. He set to his task, ignoring the men looming behind him.
“How many men does Leonis command?” Lord Stormweather’s voice was calm, controlled.
“Ten thousand soldiers last I counted. Not all of them here. He left a contingent to guard the Spiral City. You’re outnumbered either way,” Norrel winced as he removed one of the bandages. The skin was still covered in dried blood and the gash looked angry.
Norrel focused on Sebastian. He lost track of time and of what he told the Stormweathers. They were asking how to defend against the indefensible. Norrel told them what he could. He guessed at the road Leonis would take to get here. The Stormweathers must have been satisfied enough with his answers. When they left, Norrel was left in the cell with Sebastian and given fresh bandages to use when the time came again.
***
“Father, you wished to speak with me?” Feran walked further into the room, the smell of pine, oak, and sawdust in his nose. The table was still new. A gift from one of the villagers who was well-practiced in woodwork.
“I did. You are a man grown and though you still have plenty to learn, there is something you must know,” Dillan signaled for Feran to sit.
Feran took his seat and watched as his father paced the room.
“We know how Leonis has bested the Shadow Lords. My spies say he has somehow boosted his power. He can channel more magic than before,” he paused and looked at Feran.
“How? How can he have torn through the Shadow Lords with such ease?”
“No one knows. Still, these events should worry us. With the Shadow Lords’ minions being hunted a battle for Stormweather Keep is inevitable.” Dillan let out a breath and stroked his forehead with his fingers.
“We have men. Good, fighting men. They will protect the innocent with their lives. The Keep will hold and...,” Feran found himself rubbing at the sheath of his dagger.
Dillan leaned his weight upon the table and got closer to Feran. Feran noticed specks of gray in his father’s beard and crows feet around his eyes. He looked more tired than Feran had ever seen him.
“They will. Even if they do, even if they succeed for a time, our forces will lose. The Shadow Lords only ever held political power. The Lords commanded armies through threat of death and persecution but now there is no one to control those forces. The light has made steady and consistent progress. When the time comes, we will meet Leonis on the battlefield. We must do everything we can to slow his army down. We must meet them as far from the keep as we can. If we can head off this attack there may yet be hope for us. However, we will need great sacrifice,” Lord Stormweather paused.
Magic. Feran realized he was talking about magic.
“The men know what they are getting into. They will do their duty. As will I,” Feran clenched his teeth.
Dillan waved his hand as if dismissing the thought.
“It is not their duty I worry about. There is a greater sacrifice needed. One that may prove too much for you to bear,” Dillan let out a sigh, the exhaustion playing on his face.
“What sacrifice?” Feran leaned back in his chair as if to avoid his father’s words.
“Yours. Mine. There will be pain to come and I fear you are to bear the brunt of it. If we are lucky, we may be able to hold Leonis at bay. The second moon knows they are capable of making mistakes. For all their righteousness, they have made many enemies and we know what to expect when they come upon the field of battle. We could all survive but odds are not in our favor.” Dillan’s eyes shifted away from Feran.
“I am not afraid to die, father.” Feran meant the words to sound strong but his voice sounded weak to his own ears.
“Your death is not what troubles me. You will survive this attack. You must survive this attack. What troubles me is the sacrifice you will need to make,” Dillan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
“If you need me to cut off a limb I will do it to protect these people. I won’t fail you.” Feran set his jaw.
“No. You will sacrifice me. If the fighting becomes hopeless, if the cavalry breaks through, and Leonis is at the threshold of victory, you must do what I did when I was your age at the battle of the Fey Narrows. You must sacrifice your kin, your own flesh and blood, to slow an army. Even if you succeed, there is no guarantee you will save the people of Stormweather Keep. But they will have time to flee,” Dillan’s green eyes found Feran’s.
What his father was saying made no sense. Dillan had killed his own father?
“You killed Gran? No, that’s wrong. You won the battle of Fey Narrows. You’ve told me the story hundreds of times.” Feran swallowed.
“Aye. The battle was much like I have told you. The Dark Army came to Stormweather Keep in the dead of night, under cover of shadow. We mobilized as quickly as we could. We wished to maintain our independence, neither casting our lot for the dark nor the light. The battle lasted for a fortnight, the only respite when the day broke. We held fast against the soldiers, we kept the gate from buckling when the rams battered it. We almost survived intact. Your Gran was overjoyed at how things were going but he spoke to me much as I am speaking to you now. One night, when the battle was the most pitched, when our supplies were about to run out, and our people on the verge of starvation...,” Dillan looked away.
“That’s when the Shadow Lords demanded fealty in exchange for peace,” Feran finished.
“They held the upper hand. The forces we defended against were only a fraction of the Dark Army. When the Shadow Lords first arrived, they demanded great sacrifice. Gran insisted I deliver, to protect his people. I hated him for asking it of me. Now, I hate myself for asking you to do the same. Gran’s sacrifice allowed us to maintain the rule of the keep. The Shadow Lords saw what our power was but knew given time, they could overwhelm us. In the end, I traded the lives of my people for the life of your grandfather. I slowed their forces but it was not enough. I hope your power is stronger than mine was,” Dillan met Feran’s eyes once again.
This is too much. This can’t be true. Feran’s mind was racing.
“No father, I won’t harm you. These people depend upon you. They need you. I can’t,” Feran stifled a cry and swallowed back tears. He couldn’t process what was being asked of him.
“They are going to need you now. You must be strong,” Dillan’s face softened and Feran could see the sadness in his eyes.
“I need you,” Feran said with a whisper. He looked at the table, unable to meet the eyes of the man who raised him. This man who had taught him right from wrong. The man who had always been the hero of every story he had heard as a child. This man was his own blood. How could he even consider such a plan?
Feran pounded the table with his fist, anger swelling inside of him. The shadows came to him. He felt the cooling presence of the darkness surrounding him. Inside of those shadows, his rage could swirl and let fly. His anger could be made real. He stood to face his father and allowed his rage to gather into a storm.
“I will not do this. You ask too much,” Feran did not notice he held his dagger in his hand, point toward the table. He had already sliced into his thumb.
“Remember your place. You are Feran Stormweather, Master of Stormweather Keep, defender of The Daggers, the portcullis gate of defense to all of Ardor. You will not break and you will obey me. I must do my duty as you must do yours,” Dillan’s eyes clouded in darkness, the green of his pupils fading to black. Feran realized his father was pulling in the darkness as well. Feran felt his temperature rise. Dillan had his own blade in hand and sliced into his palm.
“I. Will. Not.” Feran pounded his fist on the table again. The chair behind Dillan exploded into a thousand pieces. The shade surrounded Feran like a cool breeze. Even with his anger raging, it soothed him but it also encouraged him to let the fires of his anger build.
“You must cool your temper, boy. There are enemies about. You will sit,” Dillan’s eyes darkened further and Feran felt himself thrust against the chair, unable to move. His father had never done this before. He had never touched Feran with his own magic. He had never pulled the shade against Feran. Feran took a breath and let his rage settle. It was an effort to let go of it and as he did so, he felt the darkness leave and the pain of the light take over. He wished he could crawl back into the shadows but his father was right, enemies were everywhere.
“I’m… I’m sorry, father, I didn't mean to. I just… I still have so much to learn from you,” Feran wished he could make his voice sound less pathetic.
“You will make your way without me. There is a spell I must teach you. Come, there is little time,” Dillan walked out of the room. It was a command. He turned on his heels, his step was that of a practiced military commander.
Feran had no choice but to follow.
***
Ellyn Grimstock’s hands were calloused. They had been thickened by nights of sewing, days of scrubbing pots and pans, and off days hunting with her bow. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. Her hand ached for the practice of drawing back an arrow, fletching tickling against her cheek and the thrill of letting loose to see the arrow fly and strike true. She was restless and decided to go for a walk in the Keep. The night was quiet and she wanted a better look at her surroundings. After three months here she felt she had the right to know her surroundings better. It was a small keep but it was still a keep with all the twists and turns and confusing hallways, gate posts and battlements that were not easily navigated.
She put on a woolen coat, convincing herself it was too cold at night in the Keep to walk around without it. It was not to wear in case she found herself outside. A scullery maid needn’t go outside at night.
The tapestries on the walls of the Keep were simple but large affairs. Most of them showed the Stormweather Sigil, the symbol of the portcullis proud and silent under all three moons. Seven tapestries were dedicated to the Shadow Lords. Looking at those faces, Ellyn wondered how old men who looked so emaciated could be considered Lords. Lords were supposed to be full of strength and determination. These men looked as if they had defied death by sitting on a chair longer than anyone else. She supposed it was close to the truth. They were known for their political influence rather than conquest. They were content to let their armies handle any aggression needed. The eyes were withered and the skin looked sallow in each of them. Ellyn also thought they could do with a woman’s influence but they were all men.
In The Spiral City the King was young and full of vigor. His handsome face was painted all over the town and pressed into the coins. She had never seen the King face to face but she assumed the paintings of him were accurate. Even if she had seen him in the flesh she wouldn’t have known his face. It was said he never removed his helmet when in public. He claimed it was out of humility but Ellyn suspected that cowardice was closer to the mark. And now, if rumors were true, he had bested the old men in those tapestries.
A giant of a man paced the corridor. He had dark brown skin and the blade of the halberd he held glinted in the moonlight as he passed a window. His beard was full and he was well armored. The amount of noise he made was incredible. She had to fight the impulse to plug her ears against the sound. Ellyn wondered why they hadn’t thought to put guards in softer equipment. Any intruder would know exactly which direction not to travel with such noise. For a moment she thought about avoiding him but if he found her or if there were more guards it might seem more suspicious. And after all, she was simply up for a walk. She had no plans to go anywhere.
Ellyn walked towards the man, self assured in her right to be there. The man stopped in front of her. He blocked her path with a halberd. His motions were precise, a soldier who drilled for battle every day and knew how to use his weapon. She stepped back and curtsied.
“Where are you off to at this late hour, miss?” the man’s voice grumbled. It was deep and reminded Ellyn of walking on graveled streets. Somehow she didn’t think going for a stroll due to restlessness would be enough for the man. Fortunately for Ellyn she had made a career of explaining things to men without telling them anything of significance.
“Lord Stormweather asked for a cup of hot tea. I don’t think I caught your name, soldier,” she bowed her head. Most men wanted women to be demure so she played her part. On most occasions it helped her to get by.
“Thomas Crestwood. You’re the new scullery maid?” the man rested his halberd against his shoulder. Ellyn couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to kick it out from under him if she wanted to. Men who carried arms tended to be too confident.
“Aye. Not been here more’n three months,” she kept her head bowed.
“It’s not usual for a scullery maid to fetch tea. I’ll need to check with Chef in the morning.” The man stroked his beard in thought. It was thick and curled. Ellyn thought she detected the slight hint of oil upon it. Vanity was also the downfall of more than one man.
“I think Lord Stormweather may have mistaken me for another woman in the kitchens. It didn’t seem right to refuse my Lord,” Ellyn shuffled a few steps forward as if already granted permission.
“No, it wouldn’t be. I’ll straighten him out in the morning. Now get to your business,” Thomas straightened himself, halberd at the ready, and marched on, clanking like an army on parade all on his own. It was loud enough Ellyn wanted to plug her ears.
Ellyn nodded and headed off toward the kitchens. She wrapped her coat closer to her shoulders. The cold was heavy in the corridors but her coat was warm enough for the outdoors. Not that she was going there. Not even if she was itching to be outside.
As she walked she noticed a room with a heavy wooden door. It was made of oak just like the rest of the doors in the Keep but this one had no sigil on it. The door was just slightly open. She had not seen all of the rooms and curiosity got the better of her. The Keep was her home and she may as well explore it. Perhaps there were no guards and no locks on it so the men could rush to arm themselves when needed.
She pushed the door further open with her foot. Soon she found herself sticking her head in. She couldn’t be blamed for someone else leaving a door open. If she just happened to walk inside it was nobody’s business but hers.
Inside the room was a series of racks holding weapons of all kinds. There were longswords, shortswords, daggers, warhammers, javelins, and even a few scimitars. Ellyn noticed and empty spot on a rack of halberds. That’s where Thomas had gotten his weapon. The soldiers must not own their own weapons. Things were different here than in The Spiral City. Leonis’s army was made up of people who volunteered to fight for the light. They believed they were doing right, could decide right from wrong, and keep the shadows at bay. In the end, many of them were corrupted and Ellyn had too often been witness to the result.
Ellyn was about to close the door when she noticed a rack of bows. There were several quivers full of arrows next to them. With a look behind her she walked all the way into the room. She found a small bow that looked as if it was weighted for a slight soldier. Perhaps it was a training bow or built for a younger soldier. That suited Ellyn fine. Ellyn strung it and gave it a small tug. It felt good in her hands. She placed a quiver on her back underneath her coat and entered the corridor again. She would just keep it tucked under her bed and use the tools in her spare time. Who would notice? She wasn’t intending to go out of the keep tonight.
The sound of Thomas Crestwood’s footsteps thudded away from her. She walked in the opposite direction until she found a stairwell. To her satisfaction, she found the stairs led outside. She hadn’t planned to go out but she was new and didn’t know her way all around the Keep. It was not her fault if a stairwell led her outside. She might as well take advantage of the situation. Her only challenge would be returning before dawn without being seen. If all the guards were like Thomas Crestwood it would be child’s play.
The night air was cool and the darkness was comforting to Ellyn. Birds chirped and hooted softly in the trees. She entered the forest, marking her way by noting trees as she went. She tied a string on every fifth tree just to be sure. There were known to be foul creatures in the forest and if she got into trouble she wanted to be able to make her way back. She was pleased to note her eyes were still keen in the dark even though it had been months since she had hunted at all, let alone at night.
It was less than an hour before she heard the familiar sounds of a fawn tramping through the leaves. She followed it hoping to find a doe or a buck. The hunt felt good. She realized her muscles had grown tired of leaning over pots and pans and yearned to be stretched as she stalked her prey.
When she had left the Keep it was dark out but the sun had begun its ascent by this time. The heat was harsh on her skin even at this early hour. The small rays of light played off of the dew as the fawn chewed upon a leaf. It was a beautiful animal and Ellyn paused to admire it for a moment. Its soft eyes spotted her then it darted away.
She only had to track the fawn for a few minutes when she saw a glorious doe. It was well fed and paused just a moment to look in Ellyn’s direction. She was about to draw when she heard a louder sound behind her. She spun to see a buck with firm antlers. It reared back and then charged at her.
Ellyn kept her calm and steadied her aim. She drew the arrow, let the fletching brush her cheek and allowed the projectile to fly. It sank true into the buck’s neck. It did not even let out a sound and simply dropped to the ground. Ellyn heard the doe and fawn tramp off. She was glad for them, knowing she had a larger kill was comfort, and knowing the next generation of game would be well supported by the forest filled her with happiness.
She approached the carcass and made sure the creature was dead. It was a large buck and she would have some trouble dragging it but she felt she had the strength. She tied a rope around it and tugged. It would have been easier if she had a partner but she managed on her own. She wasn’t sure what she would do with it. She realized she had not thought that part through.
Following her strings she made her way back to the Keep. It wouldn’t do to be late for her duties but then again, perhaps Chef Dewey would be forgiving when she presented him with her kill. It was a fine animal and would be a great help in the evening stew.
Her escapade had gone off without a hitch. Well, she would have to explain things to Lord Stormweather about sneaking around the Keep late at night. And lying about bringing him hot tea. Also, lying about him mistaking her for the wrong woman. And she might have to explain her taking a bow and quiver meant for one of the soldiers of the Keep. Maybe without a hitch was an exaggeration but it was still relatively smooth, all things considered. She was feeling good about herself and was imagining a nice dinner of flank steaks that night. No one would even know she had left the Keep under cover of night as long as she could stow the kill without trouble.
Or so she thought. Until the daylight broke through and she found herself at the entrance of Stormweather Keep, a rope dragging a buck slung over her shoulder, her coat a mess and the dawn light shining upon her as she found herself staring face to face with Lord Stormweather. He folded his arms. His face was grave and serious.
“I expect the next time you decide to go out for a hunt, you will at least have the courtesy to invite your Lord,” his eyes shot daggers at Ellyn.
“Of course my Lord. I’m so sorry my Lord,” she tried to curtsey but when she attempted to rise again, she nearly pitched herself into the dirt. Lord Dillan laughed.
“It’s alright my dear. But you must be aware we have enemies all around us. We need to know where everyone in the Keep is if we are to keep them safe. Now, shall we deliver this to Chef Dewey and see if he can prepare us some flank steaks this evening? My son and most of the men are marching out in the morning so this will be a welcome feast.” Dillan lifted the buck from the ground as if it were nothing. She smiled and her mouth watered.
“It would be my pleasure, my Lord,” she said. Together they walked to the kitchens and Ellyn found herself realizing how different things were here. In the Spiral City tower, she would have been flogged. Here she was to be rewarded with flank steaks. Thank the light she had found Stormweather Keep and a new home.