Rezkin’s group stopped long before they reached the city, though. A blockade manned by soldiers had been erected across the road, and picket lines of tall, sharpened posts and crossbeams had been planted along the sides of the road leading to the gate. Some travelers and merchants were permitted passage, but the mercenaries and young men hoping to enlist in the regular army were sent to camps on either side of the road. The mercenary camp was far less orderly, but the men there strutted with greater confidence and seemed to be thrilled with the prospect of war. Fights broke out between the different companies and sometimes among members of the same company, and veterans often jeered at the green army recruits who wandered too close to the road.
Kai led the party to hide amongst the tallest grasses they could find, using the grazing horses to break the line of sight to the road. Once there, they quickly changed out of their worn attire to something more suited to a king’s entourage. Rezkin donned the guise of Dark Tidings, and the others wore tabards bearing the green lightning bolt on a black field. Wesson quietly muttered to himself about the fact that he was unable to wear the robes he had painstakingly earned as he brushed down the pants and tunic befitting the king’s manservant.
“Remember,” Rezkin said, “you are all warriors now. You are the king’s warriors.”
“We are too small in number to be convincing,” Malcius said as he plaited his hair.
Farson nodded toward the stream of travelers on the road who were attempting to reach the capital. “While our party is small and lacks the typical fanfare of a royal arrival, our sudden and unannounced appearance at the capital’s gate should have an impact.”
Malcius tied the ribbon at the end of his braid and said, “I suppose that makes sense, but what if they just arrest us?”
Farson glanced from Kai to Rezkin. “That would not be in their best interest.”
Malcius scowled, an expression that had, of late, nearly replaced his previously untroubled visage. “Two strikers, a swordmaster, and a … whatever he is”—he waved toward Rezkin—“are not enough to take on a kingdom.”
Brandt said in a forced whisper, “Do not forget the battle mage.”
“Who will surely be found out by these purifiers. What can one mage do?”
Farson shook his head as he began stuffing his items into his pack. “I have not seen Mage Wesson use his talent in such a way, but even a weak mage with a natural affinity for destructive magic can cause significant damage.”
Yserria, who had been pointedly avoiding direct interaction with Malcius, finally snapped, “If you do not wish to be here, why did you come?”
His fiery gaze struck the woman. “No one wishes to be here. I want to make sure things are getting done.”
Yserria laughed. “And what do you think to do if they are not?”
“It is your fault we are in this mess!” he said as he closed the distance.
Yserria met the lord’s hostile approach in kind and yelled, “How is it my fault that we must prevent a war with Gendishen while claiming their land?”
“If it were not for you, Palis would be alive. We could return to Ashai and lead a campaign against the tyrant in the name of House Jebai. I could stand before my father with honor. I was responsible for him! How am I to return now, having lost my brother?”
Rezkin was glad that Malcius was finally putting voice to his festering resentment, but the circumstances at that moment were not ideal. “Yserria is not responsible for Palis’s death, Malcius. He was his own man, and he made his choice.”
“If she had done what she was supposed to, he would not have gone back for her, and he would not be dead.”
Yserria thrust a long, slender finger in Rezkin’s direction. “I did what I was supposed to do. I protected my king!”
“Who ordered you to return to the ship,” argued Malcius.
Kai interrupted Yserria’s response. “I gave her the order to stay with Rezkin no matter what. She is a member of the King’s Royal Guard. It is her duty to protect her king with her life.”
“But the king ordered her to leave!”
Kai dropped his pack and turned to Malcius. “It is the responsibility of the royal guard to ignore such orders if it appears the king’s life is in immediate danger. Rezkin was alone on the beach with an army bearing down on him. If I had not been otherwise engaged on the ship, I would have been there, too. Yserria acted with courage, not just in facing the enemy, but also for risking the wrath of her king for doing so. By tradition, her act of bravery would have been recorded in the Book of Honors, placing her one step closer to official knighthood. As it is, she has endured only the guilt and resentment associated with your brother’s death—the death of her potential betrothed, no less.”
Malcius’s nostrils flared. He glanced between them and then turned and stormed farther into the grass. Since there was no place in which to find privacy, he had to settle for distance.
As Farson stood to follow, Rezkin said, “Keep an eye on him, but give him some space.”
“What do you know of space?” Farson snapped. “You would not have required it.”
Rezkin shook his head. “He has not learned to separate from his emotions. Outworlders must be permitted time to battle with their feelings before they can be expected to function with sense.”
“An astute observation,” Farson said cautiously.
Rezkin picked up the black sword from the wrap that lay on the ground and thrust it into the scabbard strapped to his back. “It is inefficient and needlessly draining of energy, but it is their reality. Still, we have little time. I do not wish for our presence to be reported before our arrival. Brandt, give him a few minutes and then encourage his return.”
Brandt nodded and jogged into the grass, followed by Farson.
A short time later, they were all in the saddle heading toward the blockade. Unlike other travelers, they did not dismount upon arrival. They held back until the travelers in front of them had been processed, and no one behind attempted to pass. The travelers, mercenaries, and soldiers watched with interest, and eventually, whispers of Dark Tidings encouraged others from the camps to crowd the road. The soldiers at the barricade looked on anxiously as the new arrivals plodded forward in the final approach. The officer in charge was easily identified. A silver chain stretched across his chest from one shoulder to the other. From the chain dangled the various emblems of rank and awards he had earned throughout his career. This man had many, which meant he had either found himself uncharacteristically in trouble, or, more likely, the kingdom considered the barricade position to be of great importance.
“We demand an audience with King Privoth,” Dark Tidings said from behind the mask.
The officer glanced between the mounted warriors. Each was wearing a black tabard bearing green lightning bolt and a hooded black cloak, beneath which were shadowed faces painted with thick black lines running vertically from the hair line, through the eyes, over the cheeks, and ending at the jawline. The only member of the party not dressed in such a way was the priest of the Maker who rode at the back.
“Who should I say is calling?” the officer asked, and the mutterings of Dark Tidings grew louder.
“Tell him the King of Cael, True King of Ashai, has arrived,” said Dark Tidings.
The officer turned to the soldier at his side and said, “Get my horse and one for the fyer.” To Dark Tidings, he said, “I am Myer Lour. I will deliver the message personally. This is Fyer Volt. He will take you to the overgress.”
Dark Tidings tilted his head in acceptance. They followed the myer and fyer into the city, the blockade preventing anyone from following, at least to the first gate. Within the gates, the road split into two parallel paths—one for use by riders, wagons, and official business, and the other open to pedestrians. While people began crowding the footpath to watch their procession, none crossed the boundary to interfere with their passage. Rezkin appreciated the order of it, having been uncomfortable with the crowded chaos of the cities he had visited thus far. He supposed the paths needed to be clear if one was to navigate the discordant honeycomb that was Drovsk.
The party was led through increasingly attractive sections of the city. Eventually, the myer left to report to the castle. The fyer led them to an empty plaza, in the center of which was a stone dais. Around the perimeter were rows of steps that rose to an upper walkway lined by a stone colonnade.