Rise of the Red Harbinger (12 page)

Horror painted the king’s face as he reprimanded the six Royal Guards who had yet to join the fight. “Why do you six stand there while only Sir Brandon fights? Can so many cowards be charged with protecting me?”

Garrison secured the dagger in his belt. Brandon stared at Garrison, his bewildered countenance revealing his reservations about attacking. Garrison gritted his teeth and picked up Virgil’s helmet, then hurled it at King Edmund’s head. The king dove from his throne, narrowly avoiding the helmet. As King Edmund rose from the floor, all attention shifted to him. With the diversion, Garrison walked briskly toward the main doors of the throne room. Knights, citizens, servants, and peasants all made way for him.

“Garrison. If you leave now I will send the entire army to hunt you down and kill you! Do you hear me?”

Ridiculous
. “You would sacrifice your nation’s protection to kill one man. This is why you are not fit to be King. They are more my army than yours. What will you do without my ability for invention? My Descendant’s manifestation?

King Edmund sat back down and exhaled heavily. “You are a traitor to me and to the world. Perhaps ten cowardly knights cannot kill you. But I can gather enough brave soldiers to do the job.”

“You mean pay enough soldiers.”

Brandon, normally quiet and obedient, removed his helmet and spoke up, sheepishly. “Your Grace, forgive my intrusion on these matters. But while he is a criminal to the nation, he is also your son. Is there perhaps a lesser penalty to instill than death?”

King Edmund mulled Brandon’s words for a moment. Garrison expected Brandon to have been beaten down already. This reaction was quite odd.

“Perhaps you are correct, Sir Brandon. Garrison, I will not have you killed here and now. I will give you three hours to flee before I send a battalion after you. That should give you enough time to make for an entertaining chase.” The King arose and walked down to Brandon. “Sir Brandon, please kneel.” Brandon heeded the King’s command. “Lend me your sword. You are a loyal knight. Honorable. Because you have proven to be quite noble and altruistic, I imagine you will have no quarrel with sacrificing yourself for Garrison here and now.”

Brandon paled and stared up at King Edmund. But he’d understood too late. The killing blow sliced through Brandon’s neck and sent his head rolling across the floor. Blood sprayed everywhere from the headless neck, soaking the King and the few nearby knights. The King sneered as he wiped the crimson from his black and grey beard. “Foolish boy, you ask mercy for a traitor. That makes you a traitor as well.”

“You are no king. You are a fool. Ashur is in just as much danger with you as our king as if the Red Harbinger himself were to sit on that throne.” The room collectively gasped at Garrison’s words.

“Blasphemer! Leave at once! Or you will be killed here and now!” King Edmund walked toward him.

“Send your army. I shall kill your soldiers one by one. Until there is no one left to protect you.” Garrison turned, threw open the heavy wooden throne room doors, and left.

He ran north from the palace toward the army barracks at the Cerysian Wall. For nearly ten years now, the wall had separated Cerysia from The Never. But more specifically, King Edmund had wanted to block the Taurani people who lived in the forest. The King had outraged the Taurani by having over a dozen of them killed. The Taurani had been hunting near the border of Cerysia shortly after King Edmund had decreed that all Descendants were to be killed or captured on sight.

Cerysian soldiers had seen the Taurani from lookout posts from afar and assumed they were Descendants, because of the markings on their faces and heads. All the Taurani in the hunting party were shot down with arrows, and then stripped of weapons. Days later, three Taurani leaders appeared in King Edmund’s throne room, asking questions and demanding justice. Garrison’s father had been lucky then that the Taurani had only brought three. They expected King Edmund to meet their demands. However, they had also mistakenly expected that the King was rational and fair.

King Edmund threatened to kill the Taurani then and there if they did not leave at once. The Taurani, understanding they could not win, left with a promise to get retribution for the wrongs committed against their people. It was on the heels of this encounter that King Edmund ordered three quarters of his forces to the Taurani-Cerysia border to erect the wall.

The Cerysian Wall itself was an impressive feat. It was made of stone, towering higher than anything man had seen before, except for the Tower of the Blind, and was thicker than ten houses side by side. Towers were built into it at four points, and the steps within each tower were the only ways to reach the top of the wall.

Garrison had spent many months orchestrating the construction of the wall. In all, he’d bonded with the Cerysian soldiers for years. They would not kill him as easily as his father thought.

He arrived at the wall and hurried to his workshop within the armory. King Edmund had bestowed many privileges on Garrison; rightfully so considering that Garrison was the prince and the army’s commander. One such privilege was the workshop. Garrison, while grateful for the privacy, would have thought his father foolish for not granting the space. King Edmund hated that Garrison was a Descendant, but that distinction gave him the ability of invention. He could essentially create anything that entered his imagination. The process was not always easy, because exotic ideas required exotic ingredients. Many times, Garrison’s inventions were not completed because he simply could not find t materials to finish them.

But in the past six years, the Cerysian army had become so formidable because of those inventions that were completed. Garrison had designed scores of weapons to help trap and kill Descendants, including all sorts of crossbows, swords, and traps. Those inventions worked just as well on other enemies of Cerysia and the throne.

I will not be able to take everything. Only what will help me the most. And what will help the House of Darian as well.

He searched the organized workshop for the best inventions to take with him.
Vambrace blades. Yes.
What else? Garrison searched through drawers and countertops.
Climbing claws. Trees are good hiding places. Wrist blades. Poison darts. Poison vials.
There is something else. What am I forgetting?
Garrison looked over the room once more, his mind grasping to remember what else he would need. “The Dust!” He ran to the wooden shelf at the back of the room and unlocked the bottom drawer. It was full of pouches containing various colored powders: red, black, blue, and yellow.
All of these powders will be essential. I was smart to keep my secrets. Let them come after me. Perhaps when their bodies are returned to my father, he will see his foolishness
.

Garrison tucked some of the pouches in his waist and put the rest in a pack on a counter, along with the other inventions. Stale bread and dried beef sat next to the pack. Garrison tossed them in.

“Captain!” A voice shouted from the doorway. Garrison turned to see his best friend, Wendell Ravensdayle, also his second in command. “I have heard the news, my lord.”

Garrison shut the drawer quickly and fingered a dagger. “Have you come to kill me then, Wendell?”

“Of course I have, Garrison. You know, now that you are a criminal, the army is mine to lead. It would be treason if I did not either kill you or arrest you.” Wendell was average looking with the faintest evidence of a beard, but his exceptionally rare blonde hair, coupled with the brownish golden skin tone of Cerysians made girls and women alike dote over him. He was a year older than Garrison, and had been loyal for as long as Garrison could remember. “Seriously though, my lord, what help do you need in fleeing. Ask anything and it shall be done.”

“Anything you do for me, Wendell, anything…will result in my father killing you. He beheaded Brandon for asking to be lenient with me. Pretend you never saw me.”

“Yes, I heard. Captain, surely you know most of us would follow you before your father.” Wendell’s words were true. In the time that Garrison had sought truth about the Orijin and Descendants, his soldiers had eased on killing Descendants as well. At least, those who traveled with him did. Garrison had known they only did so because of his beliefs and wishes. When returning home, they would lie and tell the king that they killed any Descendants they’d found.

Because of this loyalty, Garrison refused to let his men die for his actions. If they chose to attack him, that was different. “I know Wendell, but I cannot accept your sacrifice,” Garrison rolled his pack. “I appreciate your loyalty, friend, I sincerely do. But you and the others must think of the grander scheme. Jahmash will return in our lifetime. I don’t know if the Blind have foreseen it, but I have that feeling. You must now lead this army. There is no one better than you to do that.”

Wendell rolled his eyes in annoyance. He was one of the few who could do that to Garrison. “Enough. Garrison, I am speaking to you friend to friend. Not soldier to captain or subject to prince. There are thousands of soldiers who fight only for the coin. Remember that not everyone in your kingdom is wealthy. They will follow the king’s orders as long as it means their families are fed.”

“I understand, Wendell, but…”

“No you do not. I said thousands, Garrison. Sooner or later they will find you. I know you can defy certain odds with your skill and weapons, but no man can kill or outrun thousands of soldiers by himself. And you know your father will send every last soldier until you are dead. Many people will have no problem betraying you to the king, because of how we used to treat them.” Even fewer people could interrupt Garrison while he spoke.

He knew Wendell was right. “Fine. But no combat. Do what you can to help, but without sacrificing your lives. Set them in a different direction, set traps, whatever. But do not fight them unless you have no other choice. Otherwise you are no better than my father.”

“I am insulted you do not think we are smarter than that.” Wendell smirked. “We are the leaders of the Cerysian army, Garrison. We control Cerysia. Any soldiers who hunt you will be amazed at how many accidental roadblocks, fallen trees, and flooded roads lie before them. They know you will go to the House of Darian. The King will send them to every possible road and path that leads there. Tell us which way you intend to travel, and we can hopefully steer them in other directions.”

“I will follow the Cerysian Wall to the Eye of Orijin, and then sail across. I will have to leave my horse, but at least they will lose my trail.” Garrison donned a regular soldier’s leather chest plate and vambraces. No need to be recognized in his own armor. He then secured a bow and quiver of arrows to his back.

Wendell nodded in approval. “Good. I have already sent men ahead of you to create a multitude of trails. They will wait for your pursuers to ambush them. I will send more just behind you so that your tracks are not solitary. The King’s soldiers will be looking for a single rider and single tracks. The squadron I send will follow you to the water. Hopefully, any other soldiers will assume my squadron is hunting you as well, and will go in a different direction. It is time you left though. We have wasted too much time with this conversation.” Wendell turned in the doorway.

“Indeed. Go give your men their orders. I apologize in advance Wendell, but I must set fire to this place. My father will surely send soldiers here to raid my workshop. And I cannot allow them to study my inventions.” Garrison hefted the pack onto his back and lifted a torch from the wall.

Garrison walked to the doorway, then turned and scanned over his workshop one last time, regret weighing on his shoulders. He exited quickly to where Wendell awaited outside. “I suppose this is goodbye then, Garrison.”

“No. We shall meet again. I will return to resume my duties as Prince, despite what my father may think. Ashur deserves a fair and righteous king. One who accepts all of his people. They will have that in me. When I come back, Ravensdayle, you and I will return Cerysia to a respectable nation. We’ll reunite Ashur and give people a reason to love their king.” Garrison shook Wendell’s hand and clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Now go. There is work to be done. Have your men meet me at the base of the tower. I will wait there and ride when I see them coming.”

Garrison walked the perimeter of the armory, lighting the base of the building all around. Satisfied with the blaze, he walked to the stables and saddled a black destrier with a special saddle he’d created, which had footholds at the front and back of the seat, allowing the rider to securely stand balanced atop the horse if necessary.

He rode to the nearby tower. It was the second post of the wall, coming from the Eye of Orijin, an enormous lake that bordered Cerysia. Sailing across the Eye would not necessarily save Garrison time rather than riding around it. But that was what he counted on. He hoped his pursuers would simply ride along the Eye. Once he was across, Garrison could visit the Tower of the Blind, a home for the blind men and women who received prophecies, for temporary shelter and food, and then head west through Mireya. The people of Mireya were much more welcoming of Descendants. His stalkers would most likely ride along the border of Galicea, directly toward the House of Darian.

Garrison hoped the journey would take no more than six days. But that was assuming no soldiers caught him. Deep down, even a one-day journey felt like too long. Ever since learning the truth about the Orijin, that there was no shame in being a Descendant of Darian, Garrison could hardly wait to reach the House of Darian.