Blood Moon
Sydney Alexis
XX
We'd ridden in near dead silence. He'd told me not to speak to him after we'd started on our path that morning. It was as if the sound of my voice brought him pain. My father's shoulders were tall and squared in that way my mother said always meant he was unhappy. The warning symbols were flashing through my mind, and I felt my stomach churn. My father only acted like this when there was trouble coming. I ventured to speak my thoughts aloud.
"Pop?"
"Aye."
"I'll not see the farm again, will I?"
His head shot in my direction, a shocked registered on his face. I suppose he hadn't considered that I would ever be this forthright.
"You may yet, Thomas. You may yet."
"So you mean not to simply take me on a supply gathering trip? You mean for me to stay?"
The pieces had all fit together--Momma's look of sadness when I saddled the horses, Grandpa gifting me with his battle sword, Grandma's basket filled with my favorite cookies, the tears in all their eyes as I set off behind Poppa with me seated on our best ride. The set of my father's shoulders and the fact that he hadn't referred to me with any form of endearment were the final clues.
"No, Thomas. You are far too gifted with a sword to spend your lifetime working the fields."
"You mean for me to enter the service of the king then?"
"If you survive your training and are chosen to join the brotherhood. Aye."
"And if I would rather stay and help you and Momma on the farm?"
"You've got no choice in the matter. You never did. It was all Ares' choice."
"But--"
"But nothing," he said, pulling his horse to a stop. He turned, face flushed with anger upon me. "You were meant to do great things Thomas Paris, and I will not have you squandering your gift on working a plow. Is. That. Clear?"
"Aye. You've chosen to forfeit my life to that of the crown and I have no choice but to follow your wishes," I paused as I watched the words sink in, his eyes growing dangerously dark.
"How many pieces of extra land were you able to grab up by trading in your only son, Father?" I ground out.
My father hauled off and slapped me across the cheek. His chest was heaving with anger as he pulled back. An uncomfortable silence settled upon us as he straightened in his saddle. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Sometimes you have to do what is in your best interest," he said in explaination.
"And a true man would never forget that it is his family that keeps him and sustains him. Blood...family are the only ones who give a damn if you continue to draw breath even when you're old and weary and unable to hold a sword."
His eyes narrowed. "Either you come back on your shield or not at all, Thomas," he replied, turning his horse and heading for home.
I was forced to find my own way through the forest path that lead to the capital. My mind kept going over what my father had just suggested--he'd rather see his seven year old son dead with honor than alive and refusing the path he had chosen for me. The sting of his slap felt like nothing compared to the pain in my chest. My father had abandoned me.
He didn't look like I expected. Like I remembered. Years away, building him up in my mind as a monster, and, somehow, he just looked like an incredibly tiny, frail man. Older than I thought possible. The lines on his face were deeper that I recalled-- especially around his eyes and mouth. The latter, no doubt, from holding a smoking a pipe one too many times. Jowls hung loosely off his once noble chin. Bags were clearly present beneath his red-rimmed eyes. Crows feet at the corners of his eyes. Worn, empty eyes that had faced one too many battles.
He stood with some difficulty, weight heavily balanced on a walking staff. The same stick he once used on me when I'd grown cocky at my ability. He would approach me from behind during a match and hit the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground.
"Never forget that no one will be there to watch your back in battle," he had said, having a deep laugh.
"Only a man with no honor or respect for the rules of conduct would injure a dueling man," I replied with no title, no bow, and no sign of respect.
His stick came down again, connecting with my skull. When I awoke, I was in the stockade.
Yet another example of why I hated Solomon.
I entered the room accompanied by Harry only. We both walked the prerequisite number of steps into Solomon's war room before pausing to bow deeply.
"Crycus, you pagan bastard, you've been here less than a candlemark and have already caused a stir among my priestans."
I stood once again to my full height, not waiting for his permission.
"Such a warm welcome to you too, Your Highness."
He snorted before motioning up both forward.
"Has Harry managed to brief you on our current status?"
"About the war? To some extent. However, his information was out-of-date by the time that he arrived to fetch myself and my army."
"Aye. Right you are. Always such a smart one. Even if you are a smarmy pagan."
"I resent that remark. I might be a pagan, but I seek only to please myself. Should you profit from my good fortune, than so be it."
The King cackled heartily.
"I've missed your wit, friend," he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder. The moment that contact was made, I was forced to roll my hands into fists. Despite a room full of guards and advisors, it would be so simple to kill the bastard, but I had to figure out exactly what he had been up to all these years. Truth be told, this little scheme had become about more than just killing the Solomon. I wanted revenge. I wanted him to be humiliated and abandoned and hated.
Whoosh, thud, whoosh, thud. My blood was pounding through my ears and chest. The demon within me was fighting to come to fore. A small but familiar voice began to taunt me with its mantra--kill him. Gods above how I needed to keep calm! A slip out now would out my true identity.
"How go the wars in my absence, milord?" Harry asked quietly, and I was suddenly beyond glad of his presence.
"Not as well as I had hoped. Since you managed to kill Proteus, I can't very well contract him to kill the Lord of Tritheria. Even if he is in desperate need of a good killing."
"Proteus has been doing your dirty work, eh?" I said in a neutral tone; I had suspected this all along.
"Aye. I managed to convince him that generals and warlord in my way were connected to his friend, Thomas' death," he replied with a hint of a smirk. "Proved rather easy, all things considered."
"And you sent him to me?" I said, eyebrow raising. Solomon believed them friends? I wondered how the story had amalgamated into making Proteus and Thomas friends when I had tried to set it up as one killing the other.
"It was time, I'm afraid. He'd been led to you, and it was only a matter of time before he figured out my connection to those rather... unpleasant events."
I bit the inside of my mouth so hard I drew blood. The smug tone with which he threw out that comment. I wanted to back him against the nearest wall and crush his windpipe with my bare hands. Feel the bones of his throat give way. Watch his mouth gap open as he gasped for breath and his eyes redden with broken blood vessels. To discuss his brutal actions so flippantly...as my family's life meant nothing.
"Because Proteus has been 'disbatched,' I take it you summoned me and mine to take care of this little problem in Tritheria."
"And you would be thinking correctly."
"Why not just send one of your own knights to handle the situation?"
Solomon took up his goblet, and slunk down into his throne. "I've sent people. Knights, armies. The most that returns is their general's head with a note through its eye."
I was glad for the wrap because I surely wouldn't have been able to hide the smile playing across my features.
"And the note said?"
"It's unimportant," he said, drowning a gulp.
"No. You're mistaken. You sent for me to fix this 'little' problem of yours. In order to do that, I need to know as much about the target as you can tell me."
"The first said: 'You provoked me. I punished your men.' The second read: 'How many more will fall over your petty pride?' The final read--"
"Sir Harold, you forget your place. Lord Crycus directed the question to me not you."
"Aye, Your Highness. I apologize for speaking out of turn," he said, lowering his head and taking a step back as was requisite.
"And I believe his Highness to be ashamed of the last."
"It was merely a libelous barb."
"Ah. I see," I replied, slipping to the seat opposite of the king. I turned toward Harry.
"What can you tell me of this polis' defenses?"
Tritheria was built on a bluff. It is approachable only on one pathway that was sliced through the terrain by their elders. Each of the founders wished to seclude themselves after the war and saw to it that the city-state was self-sufficient in addition to being difficult to ambush.
I had visited Tritheria in my youth--many years before I was knighted. I recalled the walls were built solid with stones so closely laid it was impossible to slip a dagger's blade between it. It was rumored that Egyptian slaves assisted in its building. It was, however, impossible to know if Crycus had ever been there.
"The entire polis is surrounded by an enormous wall that had six guard towers--one at each corner and two on either side of the draw bridge."
"Draw bridge?"
"Aye. There is a river that leads to a waterfall off the cliff face. It creates a natural moat of sorts."
I'd recalled the river. I'd been absolutely terrified to cross the rickety old bridge that spanned the distance (a bridge that would cave into the water mere months after our visit), but my Master had insisted. Of course, he had ordered me to cross before him. He'd claimed it was for me to prove I was a man of character. In actuality, I think he wanted to be certain he would be able to cross and live.
"Let me guess; the river is too deep to wade through and too close to the tower to use logs for crossing without being spotted."
"Aye."
I started laughing outright. That left few options--send in an assassin or send in someone under a banner of peace.
"I hardly think this situation is laughable, Crycus," Solomon said, eyes narrowing.
"I'm inclined to agree save the absurdity of it all. It sounds as though they wish nothing more than to be left alone. Their land is worthless to you."
"They are on my land. They are my people. They have yet to pay their taxes or send men to work on the temple or serve in the army."
I sighed. It was a matter of hurt pride.
"I take it they still follow the many gods?"
"Aye," Solomon said, face growing sour as he said this. He didn't seem to care he was consulting with two pagans.
"What say I go there and offer up my land against their land in an Exhibition then?" I queried.
"Your prowess with a sword must be great to believe you could simply walk into Tritheria and gamble your land on one duel," Solomon said, laughter filled his voice. "Besides, I've heard of your battle injury. That even now one arm is nearly useless."
The king was unwilling to place such pricey land up for grabs. Fear and greed seemed to be his motivating factor a great deal lately.
"Rumors are merely half-truths whispered between servants and distorted into fanciful tales. It is only when the exaggeration comes to play that they gain Master's ear," I countered, voice like steel.
"That is not what our information tells us."
I smiled at him, not believing his stupidity.
"Information gathered by an informant who spent more time on a boat than on the practice fields watching my swordplay. And, while we are on the subject, Your Majesty, do you distrust me so much that you felt it necessary to send spies to my camp?"
He had the good sense to look guilty.
"Of course I would never stoop to such tactics. I was merely repeating what was heard."
"If you trust is so low in me, Majesty, perhaps a local Exhibition game? This time, perhaps you can face me."
He laughed nervously.
"I am too old for such things. My champion, Harold, however,...he would make an excellent sparring partner."
I felt Harry stiffen beside me, clearly unhappy with the newest change of events.
"A most excellent idea, Majesty. When shall I announce the match?" This was said by a nameless, idiot attendant whom I had almost forgotten was in the room.
"When Crycus returns from Tritheria."
"You wish me to go?"
"Yes, but not alone. You must make the appearance of normalcy. Select your attendants. You will leave at first light."
"Aye, Majesty, " I said, bowing deeply and moving toward the door. His voice stopped me.
"And Crycus?"
I turned quickly, eyebrow raised. Being stopped mid-exit was never a good thing.
"Take Harold with you."
Solomon was as easy to manipulate as I believed him to be.
Partially out of morbid curiosity and partially to reassess the palace through the experienced eyes of an assassin, I found myself wandering the halls of his palace. I found room after room that drove up a trove of memories--the dinner party Solomon had held to announce my engagement, kneeling in the throne room to be knighted, the feeling of pride I'd felt the first time Harry managed to unseat me in a joust.
This place had been so much a part of my soul. It had seen my highest highs and my soundest of thrashings save one, and yet I couldn't help but feel like an interloper. Even if the decor hadn't changed over the years, the feel of the place had. It was as if all the joy had been sucked from it. Then again maybe I was projecting.
I stopped in front of my old quarters, drawing my hand against the wood. The action filled me with an incredible since of longing. Desire to return to that chapter in my life. I'd been happy then. The giddy youth that stood in the garden here at the palace and held and an impromptu hand fasting with his wife. The foolish man that had held his infant daughter in his arms and dreamed of teaching her to swim and garden and standing witness to her hand fasting. I'd been the type of man that thought that he had the god's favor...and his king's.
"Thomas?"
The voice behind me called as a warm hand was placed on my shoulder. I turned toward the sound seeing Kathryn standing there expectantly. She always did have an eerie ability to know exactly where I was.
"Aye?" I asked, dropped my hand from the door.
"You ready to go back to the room?"
I nodded mutely letting her take me by the hand and guide me towards our guest quarters.
"How did your meeting go?"
"His Majesty requested I got to Tritheria to punish them," I carefully worded mindful that we might be overheard.
"What did they do?"
I favored her with a hard look. Did the king really need an excuse to do what he did?
"Refusal to pay tribute...to him. Of not partaking of their duties to the kingdom."
Her eyes narrowed.
"There's more to this than you are telling me." A beat. "You aren't planning on standard pattern for dealing with them, are you?"
'Standard pattern?' Such a lovely euphemism for murdering all the men of the city-state and taking the woman and children as slaves. It had been done before. It would be done again.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
I sighed, motioning for her to follow me into our room, locking the door behind me. I motioned for her to remain quiet while I did a sweep of the room insuring that no one had hidden in the recesses while we were out. When I was sufficiently sure that the place was clear, I ripped Crycus' veil from my face and sat woodenly on the bed.
This 'game' was exhausting. Nearly a year of being 'on' at all times. My only reprieves were times like these--hiding away in my chambers or all too brief moments when I snuck out, donning a new persona to do so.
"Solomon asked me to take Harry and a small troupe of advisors with him."
"And you're worried you'll slip up?"
I nodded; it was partially true.
"I'm to face the Lord to try and broker some form of agreement with a minimum of bloodshed."
"Which is Solomon-speak for go in, and, if they refuse, commit mass genocide."
I lowered my head only somewhat relieved that she knew the score. One less thing that I would have to lie to her about.
"I've taken this type of mission on in the past." I started, not realizing I was speaking my thoughts aloud until I felt her stiffen beside me. "A few times in fact."
I offered her a weak smile knowing that there was nothing I could say to soften the blow of what I had just revealed. She nodded absently, turning her head away from me for a long moment. I was ordered to take the actions that I did. Orders that, if I refused, would lead to my own death and that of those that I loved. Solomon always was one for making examples of people.
"So you'll go to Tritheria, and what? Convince them to just hand over their taxes? Send men to fight in Solomon's campaign? What?"
I shook my head. I'd forgotten that her gender kept her from being exposed to the depths of evils of mankind. "Remember Solomon's credo?"
She nodded; she'd been the one to call attention to it on the coat of arms.
"His standard modus operandi is to make men suffer," I explained, seeing the flash of understanding and then sympathetic look in her eyes.
"He'll send me there to empty their coffers, strip them bare of all food, salt their land, poison their water, and kill their leaders. He'll have us occupy them long enough to do all of this and stand guard over their leaders' bodies until their flesh is ripe and the souls of those killed will be so lost in the aether between our plane and Elysian Fields," I started, watching her eyes grow wide.
"He'll keep us there until the people are so mad out of grief and hunger that they are brought to their knees--literally and figuratively. He will tell us to wait until they are begging from thirst and then he'll order us to cut them down."
Kathryn's hand clutched at my thigh, eyes searching mine. "Thomas, tell me you aren't going to do this. Tritheria is filled with men that have served their time to the kingdom. They've fulfilled their debt."
"Aye, but they've not sent tribute and Solomon perceived that as an act of impudence."
"What are you going to do?"
"I haven't decided yet," I said, shrugging.
"Surely you've planned for this. Harry must have mentioned this," she started, searching my face for confirmation.
"He did, and I thought that I had, but things are never as simplistic as all that."
She paused, eyes narrowing as she sought answers I wasn't entirely prepared to give her.
"You're worried that he'll find you out? That he'll turn you over to the king?"
I turned, eyes darkening. This was something that I didn't want to consider. The Harry I knew would never do such a thing to his Master. However, Harry hadn't a clue to my identity. Add to that the complication that he was the king's champion...
"What does your gut tell you?"
"To feel him out. See where his loyalties lie. To use our time en route to Tritheria to reveal my identity to him, leave him in the dark..." I let my voice trail off.
"...or kill him," Kathryn said in a small voice. It was an alternative I didn't want to consider.
I paused, running my hands through my hair.
"I told the Solomon I'd offer a match to the Lord of Tritheria--me against his champion. Winner takes all. Put up my land against his," I said in reply to her earlier question of what my plan was.
"What was the King's reply?"
"The idea shocked him. It's not a typical Crycus move," I said, pausing to consider if I should tell her about the rest of Solomon, Harry, and I's conversation. "I think he would prefer a lengthy occupation; it would give him time to see to it that whatever plans he has against me would have time to come to fruition."
"And what might be planning?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, pet. I could be anything. My guess, however, is that he's planning on setting up the 'perfect' Exhibition Match for my return."
"Exhibition Match? Are you sure?"
She blinked, I had not doubt that she recalled such a game had not been held in our homeland since the days before the one God.
"Exhibitions are only held for two reasons--to challenge a king to his crown and to honor Ares," she reasoned.
"And?"
"And only one person leaves the ring alive."
I shrugged not wanting her to see how much the idea was affecting me.
"And, after killing the king's former champion, the title fell to Harry."
Kathryn paused in her speech. Her hands were on her hips, eyebrow raised. She was waiting for me to suss out her unasked question, but, sensing I was not about to broach the topic, she rolled the topic forward.
"Do you really want to kill Harry?"
"If that's what it takes to finish this," I replied all the while feeling the bile rise in my throat.
"He's an innocent. Your blood oath was never against him."
"My oath was against those that worked for Solomon. He knew what the king had done. He knows what the old man was capable of. Any friend of my enemy..."
"You don't believe that! Not that long ago you told me that you loved him like family."
"He's fighting on the wrong side," came me biting response.
"Maybe he never got the opportunity to see the 'right ' side. Maybe he's trying to fight the power from within--"
"Maybe he's completed his training and has become the perfect replacement for Thomas," I interjected.
"Or maybe he's just as lost as you are." It was said with such a soft voice, but the words cut through my resolve like steel.
TBCA/N: Because I have a paper to write, a midterm to study for, and a number of projects all coming to head, the next installment might take some time. My graduate level classes have to come first, and, although I plan on writing during the next few weeks to deal with stress (and just procrastinate in general), it might be a little while before I have anything coherent enough to post.
I apologize in advance and thank you for your patience.