Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (39 page)

Lyal gripped the arms of the chair, but he
could not help but fidget. It was not from the overwhelming desire
to eat. It was not even from the abuse his body had recently
suffered. It was more from the discomfort of the clothing he had
been ordered to wear. He was dressed in a dark, high-collared
blouse, hugged at the torso by a pewter-colored vest, his legs
wrapped in form-fitting leathers. The outfit was similar to the
uniforms worn by the Tearian Guard: dark, stiff, and molded to the
body as if cast from metal. When the clothing had first been
presented to him, he had protested; never before had he worn
anything so…Tearian. But the serving girls had insisted that he
wear them, probably because Whyn had instructed them to do so, and
miserable or not, Lyal did not wish to displease the King. And so
he had allowed the girls to dress him and paint his eyes and braid
his hair, all the while listening to them twitter about how
handsome he was. Only then had he begun to feel less self-conscious
about the uniform he was wearing.

Lyal ran a finger under his collar, arching
his neck to relieve the tightness pressing against his throat. The
room was unbearably hot, he thought, no doubt due to the ridiculous
amount of clothing he had on. He glanced toward the fire that
roared in the fireplace against the far wall. Its heat seemed to
permeate the room in shimmering waves, much like that which
reflected off the beach at high sun. Throughout the room and
scattered across the table, tapered candles flickered, adding more
warmth to the aura of heat that filled the room. Lyal grabbed up
his wine goblet and drank down its contents, then poured himself
another. But all the sweet liquid managed to do was send another
flush to his skin.

A lone figure suddenly shadowed the doorway.
The servants dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to the
floor. Lyal set down his goblet and rose, shoving back the chair
with a thrust of his legs. He stepped to the side and, taking the
servants’ cue, lowered himself to the floor and pressed his
forehead to the tiles.

Other than the crackle of the fireplace, the
room was quiet as the King strolled toward the banquet table. He
stopped before Lyal and bade him rise. “No need for formality,”
Whyn said. “You are my guest. Sit. Eat! Whatever you desire, it is
yours.” Then he turned and headed for the chair at the opposite end
of the table.

Whyn sat, and Lyal followed his lead. A
servant filled Whyn’s wine goblet and stepped back, decanter in
hand. Whyn raised the goblet to Lyal with a smile. “May this humble
meal please you,” he said, then snapped his fingers to the
servants. “Fill this man’s plate and be quick about it!”

Lyal’s eyes bulged as a plate piled high with
food was placed before him, but his insides could not help but
clench. It had been so long since he had eaten anything, he did not
know if his stomach would tolerate it. But then he recalled the
drink the girl had given him, and Whyn’s assurances that it would
help him heal. Since drinking the potion, he could honestly say he
had felt no pain in his body or his mind. In fact, his flesh no
longer bore evidence of his abuse, nor did he recall much about it.
It was as if he had reverted to what he was before, or perhaps he
had been born anew. Regardless, at this moment it was as if none of
it had ever happened. The only thing different about him now was
that he felt unconditional loyalty toward the man sitting across
the table from him.

Lyal dug into the food on his plate, savoring
every bite. He did not care if his manners were less than stellar.
He did not care if grease trickled down his chin and into his lap.
He shoveled in mouthful after mouthful, unaware that he had already
polished off two plates and was now starting on a third. All he
knew was that he could not stop; he was like a blood-crazed animal
burying its face in the kill. He looked up and saw that Whyn was
watching him. Lyal set down his utensils, mortified by his own ill
manners. The servants would have done better to set a plate for him
by the back door.

Whyn rose and slowly walked toward Lyal.
“Come. Sit with me by the fire,” he said.

Lyal was relieved to see that the King’s eyes
were filled with amusement rather than disgust. He rose and
followed Whyn to two overstuffed chairs by the hearth.

Whyn settled into one and gestured for Lyal
to sit in the other. “Did you enjoy the meal?” he asked.

“I did indeed, Sire,” Lyal replied. “It was
excellent. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Whyn cocked his head.
“You know, I could find a place for you here. If you wished
it.”

“A place for me?” Lyal said with
astonishment.

“More wine?” Whyn asked, changing the
subject. He motioned the wine-bearer over.

“Yes,” Lyal replied. But in truth his head
was already spinning from the decanter he had drained during the
meal.

The servant handed them each a glass of wine,
then stepped back.

“Well,” Whyn continued, “as you may have
noticed when you arrived at the palace, there are many Shell
Seekers working on the rebuilding of the city.”

“Yes,” Lyal said, but strangely he felt no
animosity for it.

“You may have also noticed that there were no
fish or crustacean included in the meal that you just ate.” He took
a quiet sip from his glass.

Lyal turned his attention to the table, then
back to Whyn. “I—I had not noticed,” he said.

Whyn set his wine glass aside and steepled
his fingers under his chin. “I regret what happened to your
village,” he said at last. “It was most unfortunate.”

Lyal nodded.

“I would like to see it rebuilt,” Whyn said.
He lifted a brow. “Would you be interested in leading the
effort?”

“Yes—yes Lord, of course! But what of the
rebuilding of Tearia? Are the Shell Seekers not needed for the
task?”

“Indeed they are, for now. We will not be
able to rebuild Meirla until I have enough workers to replace those
currently here, of course. Though many are engaged in the
construction effort, others have different but equally valuable
jobs. The food we just ate took a great deal of effort to secure.”
Whyn shook his head. “If only she had not allowed so many people to
leave with my brother. I would have had more than enough laborers
then, and the rest of the Shell Seekers would be free to serve me
by hunting the seas as they always have.”

Lyal struggled to recall the murky details
surrounding the escape of the Jecta with his people. Since his
capture, it had all become so confusing. He knew many had left, and
that Reiv had played a part in their decision to do so. Anger
welled in his breast. It must have shown on his face, for Whyn
added, “My brother can be very charismatic. People are frequently
misguided by him. It is unfortunate that so many Shell Seekers left
with him. Do you know why they elected to do so?”

“Because Reiv is a liar and they are fools,”
Lyal said.

Whyn laughed. “Well, you have part of it
right.” He reached for his glass and swallowed down the rest of its
contents. “Bring me the special,” he barked to the servant waiting
nearby. “The one I serve to only my important guests.”

He grinned at Lyal. “As I was saying, I would
be interested in having you lead the effort to rebuild Meirla.
There will, no doubt, be much resentment toward me; your people
cannot possibly understand me as you do. You therefore must explain
to them the truth of the matter: I was possessed by a demonic
witch, but she is gone now. From this day forward, I promise to be
a kind and just king, but only to those who are loyal to me in
return. Do not misunderstand me, the rebuilding of Tearia is my
utmost priority, but I do not wish to do it at the expense of the
Shell Seekers. Until recently, we had a very amicable relationship.
I see no reason why it should not return to the way it was.”

“How may I help?” Lyal asked.

“If there was some way I could persuade the
Jecta to return…”

“What of the fever they were carrying?”

“I am pleased to report there have been no
new cases here in the city. Cruel as it may sound, I believe the
burning of the Jecta encampment stopped the plague from progressing
much further. By the time the refugees are found, the illness will
likely have run its course. I fear some of your people may have
perished during the trek, but I am sure those who survived will be
eager to return and resume their normal lives, especially when they
learn I will grant them their freedom.”

Lyal furrowed his brow in contemplation.
There was more to the departure of his people than simply fleeing
from the King’s servitude. They were going
to
something, not
just away from it. “I—I do not know if they will wish to return,”
he said. “They were going to…” Lyal hesitated. Dare he tell the
King where they were heading?

Whyn laughed softly. “Do not worry as to
whether or not to tell me about Oonayei, Lyal. I am well aware of
their planned destination.”

Lyal was quiet for a long moment. Whyn leaned
toward him. “Lyal,” he said gently. “It is for their own good that
they return here. There is no hope for their survival in the
wilderness, you know that. The place they think they are going to
does not exist. I have studied the maps and am certain of the
direction they were heading. They did not pass this way, and the
gods would never allow them to enter the mountains. The only way
they could have gone is toward The Black.” He leaned back in his
chair. “And you know what that place holds.”

“Yes,” Lyal said, “but I do not know if I
have the power to turn them back.”

“Do you not think it worth the effort,
though? Surely there is someone amongst them that you care about. A
family member perhaps?”

“No, no family.”

“Friends, then.”

Lyal frowned. Friends? He’d befriended plenty
of women, but they could not be counted as friends. As for the men,
they only pretended to be his friends so they could make a grab for
the females he discarded.

“No. No friends,” Lyal said bitterly. He held
out his glass for another fill. The wine bearer hustled to
accommodate him.

“I can see why a man as handsome as you would
have few friends,” Whyn said. “You were too busy making time with
the women. Am I correct?”

The corner of Lyal’s mouth lifted. “I did
well with the women; that is true. It brought me few friends, and
far too many competitors.”

“Ah, women,” Whyn said with a sigh. “I do
love them; I was actually
in
love with one once, but that
was. . .another lifetime.” He waved off the thought. “But we are
not here to talk about me.” He ran his finger around the rim of his
glass. “Tell me, Lyal; have you ever been in love?”

Lyal felt a catch in his throat as the image
of Jensa took shape in his mind. She was the only person he could
honestly say he’d ever loved, if he even knew what that meant. By
the gods, why had he not fought harder to keep her?

“Ah…” Whyn said. “I see you have felt love’s
cruel sting.”

“That I have,” Lyal said. “She was stolen
from me by another.”

Whyn smiled sadly. “I see.” He rose and set
his wine glass aside. Facing the hearth, he clasped his hands
behind his back and stared at the flames. “Have you ever hated
anyone, Lyal?”

Lyal hesitated. “Yes,” he said.

Whyn kept his gaze on the flames. “How deep
did your hatred go?”

“Deep, Sire.”

“And was this person the one that stole the
woman from you?”

“He was.”

Whyn turned to face him. “Was it my brother
perhaps?”

Lyal’s tone turned hard. “Indeed it was.”

Whyn motioned for the servant to refill both
of their glasses. “Then it seems we have a common enemy, my friend.
The question is, what do we do about him?”

Lyal rose from the chair and stood to face
him. “We find him and bring him back.”

“And with him your people.”

“And with him my people.”

Whyn turned again toward the fire. “How
unfortunate you do not think they will return of their own free
will. I was so certain you could persuade them.”

“I suppose I could try. But…”

Whyn pivoted to face him. “You would do that
for me, Lyal?”

“Yes, Lord. But it will not be easy. After
all, they believe they are going to Oonayei.”

“Tell me of this
Oonayei
.”

“It is a place spoken of in the Prophecy of
Kalei. A promised land. Some believe Reiv was foreseen to lead them
there.” Lyal scoffed. “But I think they are wrong.”

“Of course they are wrong,” Whyn said. He
placed a hand on Lyal’s shoulder. “But do not blame your people for
following my brother. As I said, he can be very charismatic. Surely
by now they realize what a pretender he is. More than likely most
of them will welcome the news that they are free to return,
especially if it were to come from you.”

“I’ll speak to them, if you wish it,” Lyal
said. “But how will I find them?”

“Fear not,” Whyn said cheerfully. “We have
studied every map in the kingdom and know the route they are
taking. Scouts are following their trail as we speak, and I have a
host of Guard ready to escort you.” Whyn laughed. “I am sure your
people will not be difficult to find.”

“When shall I leave? I am yours to
command.”

“Right now I command you to take yourself to
your room and get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day. We will discuss
your departure then.”

Lyal set his glass aside. “As you wish,
Lord,” he said, and in what seemed like an instant a servant was at
his side to escort him back to his room.

* * * *

Whyn returned to his chair by the hearth and
picked up his wine glass. After draining it of its contents, he
leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but he suddenly doubled
over with pain, gasping for breath.

Oonayei!
she hissed in his mind.
We
cannot allow them to reach it!