The High-Wizard's Hunt

Chapter 20

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Love and Treachery

Osric awoke in his own bed for the first time in what seemed like years. He gazed up at the ceiling, trying to piece together his memory of how he got there. He clearly remembered Aron’s last, dying gasps for breath, but after that everything was hazy. He seemed to recall seeing Fallon glaring down at him as he lay on the warm grass, but he couldn’t be sure it was actually the Head Maiden. He sat up and pushed the covers from his bare chest.

Osric looked around his humble room, and his eye fell to the overstuffed chair in the corner. Bridgett lay sleeping under a pile of furs in the chair, her auburn hair sprawled across the cushioned arm. Osric smiled at the sight of her resting peacefully, and in his bedroom no less. He rose from the bed, relieved to find he was still wearing his breeches this time. Osric picked up his wand from the bedside stand, exactly where he always placed it before retiring for the night. He padded across the cold, wooden floor on bare feet, wary of waking Bridgett, and made his way to the kitchen. He used a simple spell to heat water in the kettle, steeped two cups of rulha, and arranged some fruit and cheese on a plate before returning to the bedroom. He knelt down beside the chair and brushed a rogue strand of hair from Bridgett’s cheek.

She smiled when she opened her eyes and then blushed shyly at the sight of his bare torso. Her crimson cheeks only made her more attractive, and Osric set down the plate and mugs to free his hands. As she stood from the chair, he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I am so glad you are safe,” Osric gasped as pain from his broken ribs coursed through him like lightning when she returned his embrace.

“Thanks to you, we are all safe for the moment.” Bridgett looked up into his eyes and smiled gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got kicked by a horse, er, maybe a herd of horses.” He smiled through the pain and hugged her tighter. Bridgett backed out of his embrace and stooped down to retrieve the mugs and food. She reached into a pouch at her belt and removed two vials. She unstoppered the containers with deft, experienced fingers and sprinkled some herbs into one of the cups.

“Drink this,” she offered him the doctored rulha, “it will ease your pain and speed the healing.” As much as he regretted having to let go of her, he took the mug gratefully and sat back on the edge of the bed. Bridgett sank back down into the chair.

“I don’t remember how I got here,” Osric admitted awkwardly.

“Well, when Fallon saw what you had done, using the protection spells of the Grove to commit murder, she was furious.” Bridgett eyed him with a curious expression. “She forbade the Maidens from assisting you, and you must have passed out from exhaustion. When you disappeared with Aron, we weren’t sure what to think. We didn’t know if you were still alive, if you were fighting somewhere else, or if you had travelled by accident. Eventually, when you didn’t come back, we feared the worst.” Her eyes were moist as she related the tale.

“Bridgett, I…”

“Hush.” Her tone was soft, but serious. “Let me finish.” He nodded in apology, and she continued to speak. “Eublin contacted me. He told me what he knew, only that you were in the Grove, unconscious, and Fallon wouldn’t allow you assistance. Gus retrieved you and brought you here. You have slept through an entire day and night.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I was at the end of my strength, and I had to end the fight or lose. It was my only option.”

“I know.” Her smile was genuine, but strained. “Fallon will come to see that as well.”

“Are you upset with me, too?”

“A bit,” she gazed at him intently, “but not for the same reasons.” Pain flashed across his expression at the thought of causing her to be angry. “I am angry with you because you continue to make rash decisions. I am furious with you for placing yourself in situations where rash decisions are necessary.” He looked up at her in confusion, trying to sort through the meaning behind her words.

“There isn’t always time to think of the possible consequences of an action during a battle. I had to act.”

“I know. You did the right thing,” she raised her hand to stop his protests, “but I am terrified of what might happen next. I have spent most of my life in a safe, little bubble, protected from the woes of the world. I have seen sickness, and I have been devoted to curing it. I have seen death, but I have never seen such brutal, wasteful death as I have seen since meeting you.” Osric sat in anguish at the implications of her words. She was in pain, and it was his fault for including her.

“I never meant for any of this to happen. I am so sorry.” She leaned forward and pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“That’s just it. I should be furious with you. Yet, all I can think about is the fact that I only feel safe at your side. I should yearn for the protection of the Grove, but I can’t stand the thought of being away from you for a day.” She tore her gaze from his eyes and stared down at the floor. “Osric, I am angry because I am scared. I’m scared of the way I feel and of what it means.”

His head was sent reeling by each additional sentence that tumbled from her lips. She looked so fragile, and yet she was the strongest woman he had ever seen. The weight of her words finally hit him in full force, and he sank to his knees before her. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he caressed her cheek and raised her chin. As their eyes met, a single tear rolled down her cheek, and a lump rose up in Osric’s throat at her blatant vulnerability.

“I never meant to cause you pain. From the first time I saw you, I was destined to love you. My need to protect the people of this city, and to stop this war, pales in comparison to my desire to protect you. My thoughts ever return to you, whether we are near or far.”

She pressed her finger once again to his lips, and she whispered, “You can have that kiss now.”

*

Toby traversed the dark hallways in frustration. The palace had been rebuilt in a rudimentary way, functional, yet lacking the trappings and majesty it once held. Two days since the Vigiles had won the day, and nobody had heard a peep from the Ryhain. Stanton’s once glorious leader had been locked in his chambers since the palace was restored enough to be utilized. The last time Toby had made his report, the Ryhain had looked tired and distant, but his health seemed to have been recovered after being dug out of the palace rubble. Yet, for the past week, Toby had not seen or heard a word from his superior. It wasn’t only the Ryhain’s lack of communication since the victory that bugged him, but the blatant lack of interest in the people of Stanton as they recovered from the initial attack on the palace. That, more than anything else, caused Toby’s mind to fill with rage. Then, suddenly, Toby had received a summons to report to the Ryhain’s chambers.

His steps were filled with purpose as they echoed through the pale, stone hallways. He had no idea what the Ryhain wanted with him, but he planned to make him answer for his lack of concern for his charges, the people of Stanton. He yearned to demand that the Ryhain emerge from his chambers and attend to the people he was responsible for. He could not be allowed to continue ignoring his people. Toby rehearsed the words in his head to remind the Ryhain of his previous honor and diligence in leading his people.

Toby was surprised, like everyone else, to discover that Konsult Dredek was behind all of the unsettling events. He had been even more surprised to hear the news from people outside of the Ryhain’s normal channels. Toby had grown accustomed to hearing all of his intelligence from spies and informants working for the Ryhain, but all had been disturbingly silent in recent months. The Ryhain’s circle of loyal subjects that fed him news and rumors alike was normally a hive of activity, but as of late there had only been a few reports a month. Toby was beginning to get impatient with the normal channels of information and more impressed with the progress that was being made by Osric and his companions.

Focused as he was, Toby hardly noticed the busy servants passing him in the halls on their respective errands. He was of one mind; he wanted answers. Toby rounded the last corner on his way to confront the leader he had served for years. He had always had a great respect for Ryhain Domnall, which is probably why he was so upset about the man’s recent performance of his duty. Toby thought back to how things were before the attack on the Ratification Ceremony and the destruction of the Stanton palace. Life had been so much simpler. He trusted and respected his superiors. Thoughts of treason and conspiracy had been far from his mind. He had been able to enjoy his job as Profice to the Stanton Contege, even when they promoted an inexperienced youth like Osric to the position. They had asked Toby to serve as Contege on many occasions, but he refused the position every time. Grasping for power was never his goal. He wanted only to serve his people and survive long enough to see his own grandchildren.

Toby shuddered at the thought of making the wish public knowledge, as he would be shunned and humiliated. Yet Toby could imagine no greater honor than to grow old surrounded by family and friends. The consequences of such dishonor would haunt him and his family for ages, but he truly wanted to have the simple things in life. He wanted the joy of bouncing a grandchild on his knee, not the power, not the prestige, and certainly not the responsibility and risk that came with an elevated position such as Contege.

Toby slowed his gait as he approached the door to the Ryhain’s quarters. He did not know what to expect, but he knocked softly. There was no answer, so he knocked again, louder.

A weak cough echoed in the room, and he entered cautiously watching for any sign of distress. He saw nothing; no movement, no light, and no sound. Pulling out his wand, he dimly lit the tip as to not disturb the Ryhain if he were sleeping. The morning sun was shining brightly, yet no light penetrated the heavy drapes drawn over the Ryhain’s windows. Irritation reared again in Toby that the Ryhain was still abed.

“Ryhain Domnall,” Toby spoke softly, “you sent for me?” Toby heard rough and ragged breaths coming from a bed to his right, filling him with concern. A quick flick of his wand, and every lamp, torch and candle in the room came alive with flame.

What he saw shocked him to his very core, and all remnants of anger fled at the sight. The room’s windows were layered in thick, black fabric that shut out all light. All signs of the normal maintenance that maids and servants carried out were absent. A chamber pot near the bed was overflowing, and rotten food, riddled with flies and maggots, lay scattered across the small table. Domnall lay in his bed, heavy quilts pulled up to his chin. His hair was stringy and dull, splayed out on the pillows in mockery of his once impeccable image. His skin was a pale gray, and his eyes were yellowed and sunken deep within their sockets. The stench of urine and stale sweat assaulted Toby’s nostrils, and he rushed to the side of the bed.

“Domnall?” Toby cringed at the obvious effort required for each of the Ryhain’s breaths. “What happened to you?” The frail old man coughed, and spittle flew from his shriveled lips as he fought to bring an arm out from under the blankets. When he managed, he crooked one finger and indicated he wanted Toby to come closer. Toby called out into the hallway for a healer and then approached the man’s bed. The sound that wheezed pathetically from the Ryhain when Toby leaned his ear closer was barely audible.

“I have been a fool.” Toby could hear Domnall’s lungs crackling as he forced air in and out of his chest. “I was arrogant and proud. I placed my own greed before the well-being of my people, and I shall pay for the mistake with my death.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was promised power and wealth, if I would only follow orders and bow down to my superior. I should have considered what it would lead to. I should have known that he was using me for his own aims.”

“Who was using you?” Toby tried to piece Domnall’s words into something he could make sense out of.

“I thought if I could just win him over and please him, he would fulfill all of his promises. I could have made our city the grandest in the realm. I could have saved them all.”

Toby grabbed the sick man’s shoulders and shook him gently, disturbed by the unfocused look in his eyes. “Domnall!” Toby lowered his voice as the man finally roused and made eye contact. “What are you talking about?” Toby released him quickly and took a step back as Ryhain Domnall began sobbing uncontrollably.

“He is evil, Toby.” He broke into a fit of laughter as he tried to hold back the wracking sobs. “He promised me so much, but I should have just died in the palace for what I have done.” Realization finally struck and Toby took several steps back from the man he had served loyally for half of his life.

“You knew.” The old man squeezed his eyes closed tightly, unable to acknowledge his sins aloud. “You knew what Dredek was doing. You knew about the recruits, and what they were being taken for, didn’t you?” Domnall nodded almost imperceptibly. “You knew what was happening at Braya?” Another nod. Toby glared down at a man he no longer felt he knew. His voice was cold and quiet as he addressed the sickly, tear streaked face of his superior. “Did you know about the attack on the Ratification Ceremony?” The man’s eyes went wide and he shook his head in denial as another fit of coughing stole over him. When the coughing quieted, he looked up at Toby with pleading eyes.

“He is evil. He has done things no man should ever be capable of doing. I should have killed him rather than acquiesce to him.” He coughed again and blood specks adorned his blankets. “You have no idea what he is capable of.”

“I think we have a good idea. He is willing to start a war for the pleasure of seeing thousands die!” Ryhain Domnall shook his head vehemently.

“If only that were his motivation, we could kill him and end it.” A much longer fit of coughing shook his frail body and he struggled to fill his lungs with air. “It is much worse than you think.”

“How can it be worse?” The old man’s lips were cast with a blue tinge, and he wheezed as he gasped for breath. “Domnall?” The Ryhain’s eyes were wide and frightened as he fought for air. Toby rushed into the hall, screaming for a healer. Distant footsteps echoed in the hallway, and finally the palace’s resident healer rounded the corner and hurried into the room. “Why hasn’t he been treated?”

“Sir, I wasn’t informed of his condition.” Toby was furious, but he realized that the Ryhain was riddled by guilt and it was possible he wanted to die. That would explain the state of his chamber as well. Perhaps Domnall had forbidden anyone to enter his rooms, hoping that he would succumb to his injuries and illness. Toby couldn’t blame him. If he had betrayed everyone who had ever trusted and depended on him, he would want to die as well.

Toby stood against the far wall as the healer attempted to ease the Ryhain’s illness, but it did not seem to be going well. After several moments of tense expectation, the healer stood and turned to Toby.

“Had I been notified yesterday, perhaps I could have saved him.” The healer held his hands out in apology for his failure. Toby nodded and turned to leave the room. “Wait,” Toby looked back, “he asked me to tell you something.”

“Well what is it?” Toby asked, hoping the Ryhain had divulged more information about Dredek that would serve them well against him.

“He asked for your forgiveness, and he said ‘he’s searching for water.’” Confusion flitted across Toby’s features, and he nodded at the healer.

“Thank you. I will inform the council that the Ryhain is dead.” Toby stepped out into the hall, puzzling over the cryptic message from a dying man’s lips.

*

“He is searching for water?” Osric questioned Toby as they walked to the gathering dressed in their finest clothes. Hundreds of people, and many different creatures of Stanton, were milling toward the palace grounds. All of Stanton’s inhabitants felt a great deal of sorrow over the loss of their leader, and many eyes glistened with tears. Osric and Toby could not allow themselves to be distracted from their search for answers, but they kept their voices quiet as they conversed.

“Those were his words,” Toby answered, “and he asked me to forgive him.”

“At least he gave us some information to use.” Osric studied Toby’s face as they walked. “What do you think it means?” he inquired.

“I have no idea.” Toby shrugged in frustration. “It was probably just the confused rattlings of a dying, old man.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I would like to get the input of Gus and Machai. Maybe we can come up with something if we all put our heads together.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Toby didn’t sound convinced. “And maybe I’ll forgive him for being a pawn of Konsult Dredek.” Osric smiled at the sarcastic remark.

“I never thought he would give up his honor for power. What do you think Dredek offered him?”

“Who knows? He mentioned power and wealth, but he seemed convinced that if Dredek had delivered on his promises it would have been good for the people of Stanton.”

“Sometimes one bad choice doesn’t seem so bad until it is too late. Maybe he had a string of choices that seemed reasonable?” Osric desperately wanted to give some semblance of reason to the betrayal of a man he had trusted.

“I guess so. I am sure in the beginning he meant well, but how could he think that his actions were benevolent?” Toby sighed in frustration. “He participated in the imprisonment of the dragons. For all I know, he was lying about not knowing about the attack on the palace.”

“We may never know what led him there,” Osric put a hand on Toby’s shoulder as they approached the palace grounds, “but hardening our hearts and refusing to forgive a man who is dead may lead to our own regrets. Besides, if Domnall had known about the attack, he wouldn’t have been in the palace for the ceremony.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Toby ended the conversation without further argument as they came to a stop in a massive crowd. “Let’s get to our posts and we can discuss this more later.” Osric nodded and they split up to patrol the crowd. Although the Vigiles had been disbanded, they had not abandoned their duty. Osric acknowledged several of his men making their rounds as the ceremony began.

The traditional burial of a high ranking member of human society was one of the rare times death was honored outside of the hunt. As far as anyone knew, Ryhain Domnall had served his people loyally to the end. He would be remembered as a great leader, an excellent soldier, and a compassionate man. The head of the council gave an eloquent speech, and there were few dry eyes in the crowd as Ryhain Domnall’s body was lowered into the ground and a large stone marker was levitated to cover his resting place. The councilman called for a moment of silence, and then he cleared his throat to make an announcement.

“People of Stanton, in the past week we have seen death and devastation on our doorstep as war has ravaged our city. It was only one battle, but it was perhaps the first of many. Our Ryhain is dead, succumbed to his wounds from an act of violence our city may never fully recover from. When the palace was attacked, we as a people were attacked. We must rise up and defend ourselves, but we cannot be effective if we are lost and leaderless. We need strength, loyalty, honor, and experience to guide us. We need someone who has the ability to defend us when horrors come to call upon us. Many of you fought to protect our city and our people when the Kallegians attacked, but one man ended that battle. Many of you assisted in organizing the battle plan, but one man led you in your organization. Many of you have experience in fighting for our home, but one man has experience in giving you the orders to do so. We need a Ryhain such as this man.” The crowd roared their approval for the passionate speech, and the councilman had to raise his hands and call for them to quiet down.

Toby caught Osric’s eye and pointed a finger at him through the crowd. He was too far for Osric to hear him, but his lips clearly formed the words, “it’s you.” Osric cringed and glanced back up at the platform where the councilman was standing to address the crowd. The councilman began again.

“I think we are all of one mind on who we want as our leader.” It began softly and sporadically, but soon the entire crowd had picked up the chant. “Osric, Osric, Osric, Osric…”

At first, he was stunned. Osric was still getting used to the idea of everyone knowing his name, but he had not expected to ever hear a crowd chanting it. As the initial shock wore off, he became annoyed by the attention. Finally, he pushed his way through the crowd to the raised platform, and he was greeted with loud cheering. He stared out over the crowd, waiting for them to quiet and trying to think of what to say. Osric had no desire to be Ryhain, but the adoration of the crowd filled him with a rush unlike any he had felt before. As he gazed out at the gathered masses, the urgency of the impending war pressed in on him. He did have a responsibility to these people, but not as their Ryhain. He was their Contege. It was his job to keep them safe from people who had no respect for their lives, for their safety. It was his job to find the bad guy, to lock him up or kill him if necessary, to guarantee the well-being of the people of Stanton.

Osric studied the podium as he continued to think. He had never been behind one before. In fact, he had never spoken to a group larger than a few dozen recruits. He could see that the podium was designed and spelled to project the speaker’s voice out into the crowd. There were so many things he wanted to learn, and so many magical secrets he had not had the opportunity to study. Being Ryhain would lessen his chances of stopping the war. He would be tied to a velvet upholstered chair by diplomacy and wax seals. He may never have the chance to find out what was going on with his abilities or discover new methods of magic. He wanted a place to learn, a place he could study with those who wished to unravel the secrets of Archana’s magic. He wanted to end the war so he could live out his days with Bridgett, well into old age. Yet, he did need someone he could trust holding the position of Ryhain in Stanton. His heart quickened as he looked up and smiled.

“I can’t begin to tell you all how much I love living here.” The crowd roared in applause. Osric held his hands out for silence. He gave them enough time to settle, knowing that they would not like his refusal, and he needed them calm if he was to make them understand. “However, my path must take a different direction if we are to survive the days to come.” The hush could almost be felt as all eyes grew expectant of his words.

“Something is happening in the realm of magic. Something is changing. Things nobody thought were possible are occurring every day. It is a mystery, and it is a threat. It seems that a cruel fate has destined me to be the one who solves this puzzle. For this purpose, I must step down from my position as Contege and pursue the path that has been laid out before me.” The onlookers began to object, but Osric spoke quickly to assuage their fears. “I may be called away from time to time, but Stanton will always be my home! I will dedicate myself to establishing protection for Stanton, for you, that no war will be able to threaten. Many of you will be called upon to join me in this endeavor, but for now, I will just ask you to trust me.”

“But who is going to be our Ryhain?” Shouts came from the gathered villagers.

“There is a man here who can be the man you need - a man far more qualified for the position than me. He has already shown his devotion to this land!” Osric pointed his finger at the soil. Murmurs began to spread as realization dawned. “He has served you better than I could, already. I trust this man to lead us through the coming war, more than I trust myself. He has far more experience to aid him in making the right decisions for our people.” Osric looked at Toby, knowing he would understand better than anyone what he had said to the crowd. Toby looked somber, and yet there was a hint of… relief? Osric was curious why such responsibility being laid at his feet would be cause for a release of worry. He cast his gaze back out over the crowd, and the air was thick with the anticipation of a name. “No man will serve us better as the Ryhain of Stanton than the Profice of Stanton. Toby, come up here.”

The crowd hesitated, weighing the implications for the future of their city. Then, a trickle of murmuring quickly erupted into cheering and applause, welcoming Ryhain Toby to the platform.