Montague consoled Olivia and Gretchen, whose heads hung low as the traveling party strode on through the fading light of the forest. Without any further confrontation they made it to the edge of the river as nightfall crept in. “It’s not safe to stay within the confines of such bloodshed. We must cross tonight,” Montague said, looking to Olivia, the princess soon-to-be queen.
The ships of Illyrium were kept docked all along the rivers throughout the main island to ensure easy transport. Those docked on the Noahl River were displaced, but the Origon River had remained calm and the vessels there were untouched.
When the party arrived at the shoreline, Montague immediately began boarding people into small cargo ships. There was blood splatter all over the dock house windows. No one, Montague thought, needed to be reminded of that color.
Before departing Montague recruited a gang of men to hunt for any meat they could find. They would stay in the ships through the night and a good meal before sleep would give them strength for the morning’s journey. Demitri preferred to hunt alone, and went off by himself. They brought back several deer, rabbits, and a-half dozen squirrels.
Out on the main deck, the sky was clear and filled with moonlight reflecting off the rolling waves of the water’s surface. Gretchen lit a small fire within an old fish barrel and had the other maids unpack pots to prepare a meal of rabbit stew with her exotic spices: cumin, curry leaves, lemongrass, ginger and garlic (provided by Montague), and coconut milk. But after all the carcass cutting, meat cleaning, and cooking, Gretchen and even the princess didn’t eat much. They were too sad and tired to stay awake any longer. After only a few bites they excused themselves to sleep in the captain’s cabin.
Montague and Demitri would stand guard through the night. As they drifted further from the land between rivers, Montague thought about his mentor and what he was going to do without him. They had a plan. Like Burton, he’d sworn to protect the Volpi bloodline and defend the people against the malevolence that hunted them. Even though Demitri was once a student of Burton it was awkward for Montague to talk about him because Demitri had walked away from the Resistance and Burton’s plan years ago.
The science minister stared into the fire as he cleaned the meat from the bones of a rabbit carcass. “So why did you kill Ben Paddett?” he asked with a prickly grin.
Montague tried to clear his emotions. “Burton took samples of the corn that Ben delivered and found toxic chemicals in it. He was sure that it wasn’t natural and believed it was the direct cause of all of these illnesses our people have been suffering recently. And not only the corn, the animal meat and the dairy were poisoned as well.” Montague became moody. “When Burton meets back up with us…”
“What if he doesn’t?” Demitri interrupted, picking his teeth with a sliver of bone from the hind leg.
“He will. He also suspected that Ben was…” Montague paused and thought about what he was about to say. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Was what?” Demitri insisted.
“The one mentioned in Gabriel’s Diary, the host of the Nekrums,” Montague said. He couldn’t help but refer to the diary that Burton had suggested held the truth.
“You mean the one that will plot against the rest,” Demitri said. He was aware of the claims in the hidden text, but he obviously thought the idea a bit humorous. “Okay, I’ll play this game again. It’s been a long time since I’ve argued from that side of the fence. So then, if Ben was this ‘host of the Nekrums’ and the ‘mages’ were under his influence, why are they still hunting us, if he is dead?”
Montague shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“You and your fantasies, Montague. You know, you and Burton always questioned my work, and you seem to believe in Burton’s ridiculous fortune telling that, at its best, angels will come and save us? You’re putting hope into fairy tales to protect yourself. I think you’re both crazy. So where is Gabriel’s Dairy now?”
Demitri was privy to the truth, but Montague always knew that he didn’t want to accept it. “It is in safe hands, making its way to the high plateau. I sent it with travelers the morning after the flood,” Montague said, brushing his left hand across the hardcover binding under his robe. He would never let a relic containing such ancient wisdom out of his hands, but he didn’t want to tell Demitri or anyone else. He carried a bag of apples and other historical books over his right shoulder.
“As for Ben, I think he just lost his mind, you know. For how old he was, he got confused; using his tablecloth to wipe his ass, rat poison instead of minerals to spray the fields. Is that not possible?”
“You can choose to believe what you wish. But whatever he was—sick, mad, or the host of the Nekrums, he was trying to kill our people. What was done is what needed to be done.” Montague said, getting up and walking away. He needed time to rest and think alone.
“You can tell yourself that,” Demitri concluded.
It was an insult Montague never thought to hear coming from a friend and especially at such a time.
Montague turned back and looked at Demitri through the twitching flames, dancing in the calm breeze. He wore a proud smile.
“It’s interesting how destiny divides—isn’t it, Montague?”
A new capital emerged from a few thousand survivors who had suffered the worst tragedy in the history of mankind. Montague La-Rose had led close to two hundred people from the sack of Illyrium. But many others had escaped as well, fleeing from the
