The dinner aven had nearly passed when Brexan reached the encampment. Another platoon had arrived; she recognised Lieutenant Riskett pacing outside Bronfio’s tent. All around her, people were readying themselves for the coming conflict. She hustled to the lieutenant’s quarters to deliver her message.
Brexan explained the delay – leaving out the almor attack; she wasn’t sure they’d believe that – to an exasperated Lieutenant Bronfio and waited, sweating, filthy and tired, while he contemplated the pages she had handed over. She’d decided to say nothing of her encounter with the almor: most Malakasians believed the demons to be just a legend, and she was pretty sure her story would be interpreted as nothing more than an elaborate excuse for losing one of Prince Malagon’s mounts. Instead, she blamed a riding accident.
Now, standing at rigid attention outside the lieutenant’s tent, she ignored stares from Riskett’s soldiers while friends from her own platoon grinned at her, some in compassion and others in ridicule: it would be a long time before she would be allowed to forget that she’d lost her horse.
Lieutenant Bronfio appeared through the flaps of his tent, looked Brexan up and down and ordered her to make ready for the assault on Riverend Palace.
‘Get a mount from the pack animals. There are a few sturdy enough,’ Bronfio told her. ‘I commend your determination to get these pages to me, soldier. However, in the future, I would encourage you to be more careful with His Majesty’s horses.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Brexan replied, then, glancing towards her fellow soldiers, added quietly, ‘Ah, sir? There were others on the beach, sir. They were-’
‘Never mind that now,’ Bronfio interrupted, annoyed with the young messenger. ‘Just ready yourself for the morrow.’ Brexan shut her mouth.
When night finally fell, Garec motioned for the two prisoners to stand. ‘We’re going in… stay low, and don’t say anything until we’re inside the battlements. One word out of either of you and we’ll leave your corpses for the spring flowers.’ Steven and Mark nodded assent. Sallax said nothing as he started out into open ground. Covering the distance to the crumbling battlements took less than a minute, but for Steven it felt like an eternity. Remembering the accuracy with which Garec had fired arrows at his feet that morning, he feared there would be other archers, assassins or snipers watching for this Ronan Resistance group.
‘I don’t even know what they’re resisting,’ Steven grumbled, staying as low to the ground as possible. Though his head and shoulders were bent, he felt as if his backside were exposed for any passing archer to skewer like a ham.
But when they reached the palace, he thought they might have stepped onto a big-budget film set. Even in its dilapidated state, Riverend towered above them, an imposing stone edifice black against the night sky. It was difficult for him to believe it had all been constructed for one family. The main building alone looked like it could easily accommodate several hundred guests. It stood now, a disintegrating relic from a majestic past Steven could not begin to understand. A small part of him was excited, wanting to get inside and look around.
Steven’s thoughts were interrupted when Garec took him by the arm and guided him to a narrow opening in the battlements. He was glad they didn’t have to climb over the walls with their hands tied behind their backs. The stone ramparts reached nearly thirty feet into the sky and although they were crumbling in places, scaling them would be a difficult task, even for experienced climbers like him and Mark. He squeezed through the thin breach in the fortress’ defences and found himself in a large courtyard.
Garec and Sallax immediately relaxed and Steven guessed they had reached a safe area. Still afraid to speak, however, he and Mark followed the two partisans towards the main building across the courtyard. There was an enormous stained-glass window in one of the outer walls. Steven had travelled through Europe while in high school; he’d seen many examples of stained-glass, and he was certain this window dwarfed the largest he could remember by several times: he estimated it was nearly a hundred feet high and fifty feet wide. Even in the dark, illuminated only by the light of the twin moons, Steven could see this was a stunning example of both creativity and engineering, even though several of the panes had been shattered – most likely falling victim to children throwing stones before fleeing back across the crumbled ramparts.
He was still appreciating the intricacies of the window by moonlight when Mark nudged him gently in the ribs. His roommate gestured towards the window’s lower left corner, from where a soft, eerie glow emanated. Steven understood they were not alone. There were others waiting inside.
SOUTH BROADWAY AVENUE, DENVER
‘Have you tried him at the bank?’ Jennifer Sorenson hefted an oak rocking chair to Hannah, who was perched in the back of a customer’s pick-up truck. ‘He must be at work today.’
Hannah wiped her forehead across the shoulder of her T-shirt, leaving a small wet stain. It was cooler in the street than inside the antique shop, and she welcomed the job of loading several purchases for an elderly couple.
‘No, I tried there and Mr Griffin said he hadn’t seen him all morning. Apparently they were at the pub last night, but Steven left early with Mark. I tried him a few times at home but only got his machine.’ She nodded thanks to her mother as Jennifer handed her a length of rope.
She began tying two small end tables together. ‘I mean, I can understand if he wanted a night away from me. We’ve been talking three or four times a day and I do feel a little like I’m back in seventh grade, but why would he miss work today?’
‘Maybe they had too much to drink,’ her mother suggested. ‘They might be home with the phone unplugged, nursing massive hangovers.’
‘Not him, he’s too responsible for that, and Mark sounds the same. I know they both drink some, but missing work? It doesn’t fit.’
‘Well, you’re supposed to go out tonight, right?’ Jennifer asked and, seeing Hannah nod, said, ‘Go home. Get ready and see if he calls. If not, try him again, but Hannah, things happen. People sometimes find that-’
‘Yes, I understand he could be avoiding me, but I’m telling you it’s not like him.’ She accented her point by pulling a half-hitch tight against the pick-up’s bed. ‘We moved very quickly into this relationship and if he’s running, it’s as much my fault as his. I just want to know nothing happened to him last night, because even if he were dumping me already, he wouldn’t be missing work.’
Hannah jumped lightly to the sidewalk, shook hands with the customers and waved as they drove off along Broadway.
Jennifer Sorenson wrapped one arm affectionately around her daughter’s shoulders. ‘I’m sure he’s not dumping you, and if he is, then he’s the wrong one anyway.’
‘Thanks – but I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll drive up there tonight and ask him what’s going on. If he really is sick, he might be glad to see me. And if I’m getting dumped, I’d just as soon have him do it before I haul myself to the Decatur Peak trailhead at 4.30 tomorrow morning.’ She returned her mother’s embrace. ‘I could use the extra sleep and you could use the help here on a Saturday.’
‘Well, it’s after 5.00 already. You go home and get ready. I’ll get things cleaned up and close the place down. If you’re still home when I get back, I’ll take you out tonight.’
‘Thanks, Mom.’ Hannah gently kissed her mother on the temple.
She unlocked the chain securing her bike to a wrought-iron bench in front of the store and jumped astride for the quick ride across the neighbourhood. Her helmet dangled loosely from the handlebars and Jennifer scolded her from the store entrance. ‘The helmet belongs on your head, Hannah.’
Donning the helmet, Hannah shouted back, ‘Is that where it goes? I’ve been wondering where all these damned bumps on my head were coming from. I’m sure I’ve lost forty, maybe fifty IQ points crashing into things this summer. Oh well, you’ll have an unmarried, brain-damaged daughter to look after in your old age.’ Shooting her mother a bright smile, she pedalled off.