Dragons and Demons, page 42
Wesson dismounted and left his horse with the others who would wait outside the gate while he announced their presence. Celise, at least, understood his desire to greet his mother alone. He felt odd as he approached the front door. This was his home, the one he had shared with his mother for years following his father’s death; yet he stood poised to knock as if he were merely another guest. The door opened before his knuckles struck the wood, and then Wesson was wrapped in a woman’s arms. He inhaled her familiar scent as he gripped his mother tightly. She broke their embrace and leaned back to look at him as he did her. He was surprised to find that he was actually a few inches taller than she was.
A tear threatened to dip from her lashes. “My dear Wesson, look how you have grown. My boy has become a man.”
Wesson took her hand from his face and pressed a kiss to it as he said, “Hello, Mother. I am filled with joy to see you well.”
Her smile faltered just barely as she glanced behind him then took in his odd clothes. “What are you wearing? Should you not be wearing mage robes? Has something happened?”
He patted her hand and said, “I shall tell you of it later. I have brought guests. I hope you do not mind. We have come a long way in a short time.”
“Of course,” she said, waving toward the others. “Please, bring them in. I shall have cook prepare some refreshments.”
Wesson smiled at remembering cook. She was a hard woman with a warm heart, and she had scolded him as a child as much as she had praised him. He had learned quickly to avoid her when she was carrying her wooden spoon.
As the others made their way to the front steps, his mother said, “I am afraid Grayth is not here right now, but he will be home this evening. I think you will like him.”
This time, it was Wesson’s smile that dropped. He had never met Lord Grayth Prisitus. His mother had married the man shortly after Wesson’s impromptu departure from home. The union was born of a business arrangement, unlike his mother’s first marriage, which had been for love. In all her letters over the years, his mother had never spoken ill of Lord Grayth, and Wesson was led to believe the man treated his mother well.
Wesson heard the patter of small, soft slippers up the pathway before he was once again wrapped in the embrace of a woman.
Wesson sighed and said, “Celise, this is my mother, Lady Urmela Prisitus.”
Celise did not pause as she moved in front of him and straightened her spine. She stared down his mother as she said, “I am Celise, a matria of House Erisial. I have claimed Wesson Seth as my first consort. I greet you, Matrianera Urmela, with respect; but, if you wish to challenge my claim, you should know that I have a strong champion.”
Wesson’s mother stared at Celise with wide eyes. Then her gaze dropped to Celise’s barely-there clothing before finding Wesson once again. Wesson could feel the heat warming his face as she avoided his mother’s probing gaze. He swallowed hard and said, “This is Celise of Lon Lerésh. I do not recognize her claim, but she will not leave me be.”
Celise flinched and peered up at him with pained eyes, but she merely took his hand and said nothing. A small smile crept across his mother’s face, and she nodded toward Celise cordially. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Celise. I would not think of challenging your claim to my son. In fact, I think it is lovely that he has met a daring young woman such as yourself.”
Wesson frowned, but Celise beamed at his mother before turning her luminous smile on him. She danced on her tiptoes as she gripped his hand tighter. Kai strode from behind and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder before gracing his mother with the courtliest bow Wesson had ever seen.
“Greetings, Lady Urmela. I am Striker Zankai Colguerun Tresdian.” With a wink, he said, “Everyone calls me Kai. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“A striker?” said his mother, turning back to him. “Are you in trouble again?”
Kai raised one eyebrow at him. “What kind of trouble would you get into that your mother thinks would garner the attention of a striker?”
Wesson huffed. “Nothing.” Then, ignoring the striker’s mirthful gaze, he introduced Namm, Fedrin, and Dennick.
For the next couple of hours, Wesson’s companions regaled his mother with tales of his least brag-worthy moments. They carefully steered away from anything that might worry her, and they had not yet mentioned anything regarding his involvement with war or kings or faraway kingdoms. His mother was a bright, well-educated woman, so she surely knew there was plenty they were not telling, but she seemed to enjoy the stories anyway. She paid particularly close attention to whatever Celise had to say, which mostly revolved around Wesson and her plans for him. Apparently, they were to have many children in their future, which also pleased his mother. Wesson was seeing his mother for the first time through the eyes of a man, rather than a boy. Where once he had seen a lady who ruled their home with unquestionable authority and an iron tenacity, he now saw a woman—one who had strength and dignity but also faults and flaws. He thought he loved her more now than he ever had.
It was near dinner time when her husband Grayth finally arrived home. Wesson was less than thrilled to meet him at first, but after a while, he realized that his years of concern had been wasted. The man was soft-spoken and considerate, and very little seemed to stir him. They were all seated around a long table on the back lawn when Kai caught Wesson’s eye during a lull in the conversation.
Wesson tamped down his mounting anxiety and cleared his throat. “Mother, there is something we need to discuss, and I am afraid it is quite urgent.”
She nodded knowingly. “I was wondering when you would finally get to the reason for your sudden visit.”
He was momentarily taken aback. “I need a reason?”
“Son, I have not seen you in seven years. The last time I heard from you, you had just acquired a job and were traveling in the east. Now you show up out of the blue with a most unique retinue. I know you are up to something, and it must be important.”
Wesson released a breath. “Right. Well, it seems fairly quiet out here, but I am sure you have heard of the turmoil in the east.”
She nodded, her expression somber. Wesson did not miss how Grayth’s hand wrapped around his mother’s as they both looked at him. Wesson swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. “King Caydean has basically declared war on the world. He has upended the great houses, declared his own people to be enemies, and sent troops into other kingdoms.”
Grayth leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at Wesson. The man’s grey hair and soft blue eyes made him appear aged, but his stern expression and tense bearing spoke of strength. “Son—”
Wesson winced at the title.
“I need to know something right now before you say anything else.” He glanced at the striker then looked back to Wesson. “Are you a rebel?”
Wesson’s anxiety spiked. He had no desire for war to break out here and now in his own home with his mother stuck in the middle. He had to be strong, though. He had to show them both that he was, without a doubt, on the side of right.
He lifted his chin and said, “I am quite more than a rebel. My loyalty is to the True King of Ashai, Emperor of the Souelian; and I am the King’s Mage.”
His mother’s hand covered her gasp, and Grayth sat back. Both continued to stare at him as though none of his companions existed. Finally, Grayth said, “The King’s Mage? How can that be? You are barely more than a boy.”
“I may be young, but I am powerful.” He looked to his mother. “The employer I told you about nearly a year ago is the True King.” He nodded toward Kai. “The striker, here, and the others all serve him. Caydean’s forces are moving this way to intercept the rebels before they can join with the Torreli and Sandean forces that are moving down the coast. They will be here in a matter of days. I came here to save my family and my home, but I will fight beside the rebels if they are willing to stand openly against Caydean.”
After a moment of what appeared to be deep contemplation, Grayth slowly stood and made to leave the table. Kai also rose and, with his hand on his hilt, made it clear he was ready to put down any resistance.
“I must speak with someone,” said Grayth, eyeing the striker.
“I am afraid I cannot allow that,” said Kai.
“Relax,” he said, glancing toward Wesson. “I have no intention of outing you to the army.” After a brief pause, he added, “I am a rebel.”
Grayth backed up a few steps before turning and walking toward the barn. Wesson nodded at Kai’s glance, and the striker followed Grayth. Wesson’s mother looked at him with trepidation.
“He answers to you?”
Wesson shrugged. “Technically, he only answers to the True King, but I was placed in charge of this mission.”
“He will not hurt him, will he?”
Wesson watched as the two men led their horses from the stable and checked their tack. He shook his head. “So long as he is telling the truth, no. Did you know he was a rebel?”
“He does not speak of his business, and I do not ask, but I had my suspicions. Grayth is a good man. He can see wrong when it is before him, and what Caydean has been doing is wrong. It is abhorrent, actually. Of course, the official tales make his actions sound somewhat reasonable, but we hear the rumors even out here. Most people are not fooled, although there are some in town of whom you should be wary.”
“Of course.” He paused as his heart began to race, then he finally asked the question that had been plaguing him. “Diyah?”
His mother’s gaze softened. She glanced at Celise, then said, “Wesson, you should know that Diyah is married.”
Wesson’s heart stuttered. Although he had suspected it, he had never truly accepted that she would not be his. “When?” he choked out.
“About three years ago. Her father insisted she marry as soon as she turned sixteen. She already has a child, and another is on the way.”
Children. Diyah had children. He had never even considered that she might already have started a family. His next word was nearly as broken as his heart. “Who?”
“Wesson, we do not need to speak of this now—”
“Who?” he insisted.
“Tomlin.”
Just hearing the name caused Wesson’s stomach to flip. Tomlin Holcom was everything Wesson had once hoped to become. He was a good man with a golden conscience, the kind of man people naturally respected and fell into line behind when they needed a leader. He helped the needy, volunteered at the Temple of the Maker, and was slated to be the next town mayor. If Wesson had been forced to choose anyone besides himself for Diyah, it would have been Tomlin. He was surprised, though. With their age disparity, the two had never been close when he had known them, and he was amazed that Diyah’s father, who was more familiar with a tankard than his daughter, had managed the match. He wondered if Diyah, herself, had arranged it.
Wesson simply nodded and hung his head. After a few minutes, Celise slid into his lap and wrapped her arms around him. Although he had not accepted her claim and was obviously mourning the loss of another woman, she had the strength to support him when he needed it. For that, at least, he respected her.
It was well after dark when Kai returned with Grayth and another man Wesson did not know. Wesson had been trying to decide how to explain to Celise that they would not be sharing the single bed in his room when he had been summoned to the study. Kai introduced the stranger as Payton de Voss.
“Payton de Voss?” said Wesson. He knew the name belonged to Reaylin, and he wondered if there was any relation.
“You know me?” said the man who surveyed the home as if he had never seen it. Although he had a strong bearing, his eyes were shifty, like those of a man accustomed to being watched.
Kai gave Wesson a subtle shake of his head, and Wesson cleared his throat. “Ah, no, I have only heard the name.”
Payton nodded is if it were expected, but he did not pause in his perusal. Suddenly, the man’s gaze met Wesson’s, and it was unnerving. “I’m told you’re Dark Tidings’s mage.”
“The True King,” replied Wesson.
The man grunted. “We shall see.” He had a way of speaking that was low and quiet and a bit slurred. Wesson thought if he had not been listening so intently, it would barely have been intelligible. Payton’s gaze briefly dropped to Wesson’s clothes then found his face again. “They said you’re a battle mage. You don’t dress like it. That’s smart, but I’m surprised one of your station would deign to wear the clothes of a mundane.”
“You have a problem with mages?” said Wesson.
“No, I don’t have a problem with them. It’s them has a problem with me.”
“Why would that be?”
Payton scowled as if Wesson should know the answer. “’Cause I’m not special like you. ’Cause I’m a poor man from a poor family in a poor land. ’Cause I don’t got your education or status. What other reasons does one of you need?”
“I do not think like that—”
“Of course you do. You all do. But it’s me is showing you all now. The weight of this kingdom is on the shoulders of a poor mundane and thousands of others like me. Caydean don’t understand. He can’t. It’s in his breeding. But when a better man sits the throne, the kingdom will stand strong on the backs of simple men.”
Wesson narrowed his eyes at the man, an expression that did not go unnoticed. He said, “Who would this better man be? You?”
Payton abruptly barked a laugh that nearly made Wesson jump. “Me? A king? That would be the day. Even a simple man like me knows a king needs to be smart and cunning and knowledgeable. No, the throne belongs to men like you, men like Caydean, except not him because he’s lost his wits. He’s a cruel man with cruel means. Mayhap this Dark Tidings’ll fill the void. Maybe he won’t.”
It finally dawned on Wesson who this man really was. “You are the leader of the rebels.”
Payton nodded once. “I am.”
“Why are you in Benbrick?”
“Same reason as you, I expect.” Payton looked around the room and nodded at Grayth. “Well, maybe not exactly same as you. It seems you have other reasons for being here, but mine have nothing to do with family. Don’t see as I have any of that left. As you know, we’ve been hoping to join forces with the Torreli and Sandeans. When we heard the king’s forces were moving west, we vacated the hills near Maylon and settled ourselves around these smaller villages. When the king’s army gets here, we’ll be ready to fight alongside our new allies.”
“They are only allies until they become your enemies,” said Wesson. “What do you think Torrel or Sandea want to get out of this? Both will be vying for the throne, and what is left of Ashai will be torn between the two once their truce has ended.”
“We won’t let it get that far. We will fight with them, then we’ll fight against them until a new king sits the throne.”
“If there are any of you left,” said Wesson. “And what did you plan to do about the throne? Were you just going to let the dukes fight it out amongst themselves?”
“The way I hear it, the seat belongs to the Duke of Wellinven.”
“I doubt Lord Haden Nirius will be taking the throne—”
“No, not him. The son.”
“Tieran?”
“He’s the rightful heir after Prince Thresson.”
“Prince Thresson is assumed dead.”
“You know what they say about assumptions.”
Wesson tilted his head as he looked at the man anew. “Do you know something about the missing prince?”
“Can’t say as I don’t. Won’t say as I do,” muttered the man.
“Yet you assume he will not be taking the throne.”
“I know he won’t. The way I see it, though, even a bad leader can’t do worse than a mad one. Caydean has to go.”
“You should know, then, that Tieran Nirius has sworn fealty to the one you know as Dark Tidings. He did so because it was proven that he is, by both blood and bond, the True King.” Wesson paused as he waited for the information to sink in. Payton sounded like a simple man, but if he was truly the rebel leader, he had to be calculating and deliberate. When the man merely nodded and hummed under his breath, Wesson said, “I find it hard to believe that the rebel movement could be built on a promise of a better future without at least some idea of who would be king.”
A spark lit in Payton’s eyes, and Wesson thought he looked somewhat bemused. The rebel leader said, “Leaders rise and fall in war. The truth is in who survives. The right man will reveal himself before the end. If you are as powerful as they say, mayhap you have designs on the throne.”
“Me? No, that is not a responsibility I would ever desire. A king must deal with realities harsher than I can stomach.”
Payton’s expression soured, and his gaze turned hard. “Those don’t sound like the words of a powerful, tried and tested battle mage.”
“It is no secret that I abhor violence and especially killing,” said Wesson. “And I have those feelings because I have been tried and tested.”
“Hmm, we shall see,” the man muttered again. Then he looked toward Kai who was leaning against the wall by the door. “Your intel is a bit behind,” he said. “My sources claim Caydean’s army will be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” cried Wesson. “That cannot be. I was sure we made better time than that.”
Payton turned back to him. “It seems you were only just ahead of them. This home is surrounded by my people. We were concerned that you were forward scouts, but I am convinced that you are, at least, not with Caydean.”
Wesson looked to Kai, and the striker nodded. It seemed he had been aware of the rebel forces surrounding the house but had not thought it important to inform Wesson.
Payton took a few steps toward the doorway then turned back. “We plan to hit them from the shadows. We will pick off the smaller groups on the fringes and then attack from the rear once the Torreli and Sandeans begin their frontal assault.”
“We cannot wait for foreign forces to arrive,” Wesson said in dismay. “Benbrick will be inundated by then.”
