To the east, the lights of the seemingly abandoned city still flickered in the newly arrived darkness. A halo of orange light pulsed over the tops of the buildings in the distance. The swirling breeze from the sea brought the occasional hint of the smoke. There were moments that he could have sworn he heard screams carried by the wind, yet he attributed many to his rampaging imagination.
To the west the image was more scattered. The mansions were spread out. Their sprawling complexes nestled comfortably upon large tracts of land. Their palatial grounds shone like giant beacons in the night. The lights illuminated structures of a grander scale than even Vim itself. The inhabitants of the hidden city, however, would have likely scoffed at the gross indulgence and complete lack of function of their design. The vast green spaces that existed between the homesteads and the main road were dark. Gardens, mazes and recreational areas were dotted by scattered lights. Small pinpoints, minor glowing orbs, highlighted the roving guards who chose to accentuate their paths across the vast swaths of land.
The Kingsway itself was dim, lit only by the occasional lantern that dotted the wide cobblestone lane.
In the distance to the west, the lights of the far-off garrison burned. The last fortification of human expansion twinkled in the darkness.
Ryl swung himself into the carriage, careful to avoid disrupting the comfort of its inhabitants.
The interior of the wagon was divided into two seats, one to the front and one to the rear of the carriage. Nestled along the rear seat, Breila lounged comfortably. The young tribute was already asleep, curled into a position smaller than Ryl could imagine possible, his head resting upon Breila’s lap. The madam hummed softly as she stroked the mop of shaggy, wild hair atop his head.
Ryl seated himself on the bench across from the pair. He’d settled into the cushion of his seat for a moment before she raised her eyes to his. The smile was one that he’d never witnessed from the elder woman before. Though he’d only known her for a short period of time, they were bound by common trust of Andr. They were indebted to each other by varying degrees of support. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. A small smile tugged up on her lips before her eyes returned to the peacefully sleeping boy.
Ryl was reminded for a moment how truly young Aelin was. How young all the tributes were.
The bulk of those housed between the cold stone walls of the palisades were nothing more than children. Though they’d matured at the hands of their wicked keepers, they were adolescent at best.
Ryl leaned his head back against the wooden wall of the carriage. He sighed as the thoughts took over his mind. He chided himself for the time wasted during the meal and meeting, yet he understood the need for pause. He and Aelin had pushed without rest, with only scraps for food. They were famished and exhausted. In turn, Ryl welcomed the darkness that had fallen.
The wagon groaned as Fay leapt aboard the small carriage.
“Let’s bring the lady home,” his authoritative voice ordered.
Lord Eligar swung inside the carriage with one fluid motion, finding his seat next to Ryl as the horses jolted forward.
Fay’s gaze travelled the occupants of the carriage, landing finally on Ryl. The lord smiled as he patted him on the shoulder, his face stretching into a wide smile.
“Rest, my friend,” he whispered. “The road ahead is assuredly long. I’ll not bother you for trivial details.”
Ryl nodded as he closed his eyes.
The sentiment was a welcome one. Ryl scanned the area surrounding with his mindsight, confirming the standard monotony of the scene. Though to the west beyond his vision, he could feel a troubling anomaly, nothing in the vicinity was amiss. The road to Breila’s estate was clear.
His path further to the west was uncertain.
Though he couldn’t yet see them, he could feel their presence tingling at the periphery of his senses.
The king was there.
Elias was there.
Kaep was there.
He was coming.
Chapter 35
Kaep’s knees buckled at the force of the blow against the backs of her legs. She crashed to the ground, the impact sending sharp jolts of pain through her bones.
The interior of the garrison was plain. Constructed from the same drab stones that made the palisades, it was awash with varying shades of grey. Elias had dragged her through the foyer to the chamber that was directly beyond. Here the walls opened into an amphitheater of sorts. Several rows of benches descended into the ground; the focal point centered on a narrow stage below. She pondered the similarities to the grand auditorium of Vim, though they were few. The differences were stark.
Compared to the orate artistic construction of her home city, the entirety of the garrison, the auditorium included, was pedantic. There was no flair for design, no touch of creativity. All the constructs were cold and lifeless. Sterile. They had been built for the sole purpose of function. All else had been neglected.
She shuddered at the chill that seemingly seeped from the room itself.
The focal point of the meeting hall in Vim was the massive statue of Taben the Defender. His position was larger than life. The enormity of his deeds dwarfed the statues constructed there and other places in his honor. The focus here in the garrison was nonetheless potent.
A line of seven black-cloaked Lei Guard stood like statues, evenly spaced along the rear wall. The throne centered before them was imposing, though it was as plain as the stones that made up the garrison. The sturdy wooden timbers were painted solid black. Set atop the throne, lounging in finery that reflected glints of light as the jewel-adorned fabric sparkled in the low light, was a man who needed no introduction. Blackness oozed from the Lei Guard at his rear, coating the floor around him in shadow.
King Lunek the Third.
“This is not the return I had
