Trials of the Hierophant: Vol. II of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy (10 page)

“We shall leave tomorrow, assuming Gawain has fully recovered.” Aeronwy bowed her head.

“Ah, yes, your injuries.” Neirin frowned. “Stay in Glyndŵr until you are fully rested. Take as long as you need.”

“There is no need, my lord,” Gawain said, as he stood, maintaining his balance with all his strength to prove his health to the others. “We will leave on the morrow.”

Chapter VII

endric pahne had not expected a summons from his lover Caden. He had sent him to see Vaughn Garanth several days ago with news of Ellen’s strong and healthy son, and he expected him to return to his household the day prior. Instead, Caden had sent a servant with a message. Kendric was to meet him, as soon as possible, at an old sentry near the shore of the Valden Channel, which lay between the eastern coast of Denorheim and the western coast of Valifor. But whatever for?

“My lord, your horse is ready.”

“Thank you.”

Kendric’s cloak billowed around him as he stepped out into the blustery winter air. It was not yet noon, but the sky was dark as dusk. Clouds came in from the sea and brought cold, damp air with them.

“Snow will soon fall,” he lamented, holding out his hand. He pulled his hood up and let it drape delicately over his head before he mounted his horse. His fine hair blew about, unable to be contained within the confines of the hooded cloak.

Two guards accompanied him through the streets to the Denorheim province. What Caden could have found on the outskirts of the province was unknown to him, but he was intrigued. Perhaps he had been able to garner more information on Braith and Madoc. Although, with Braith relinquishing his throne, the threat would soon subside.

His earlier prediction had been correct. Snow poured from the sky not long after the party left the walls of his estate.

“My lord, look yonder,” said one of the guards, pointing to the west.

“I’ve never seen a herd of deer travel so,” the other guard said. “It is an omen. Deer are the faeries’ cattle!”

“They are not deer,” Kendric said, shaking his head. “Come, we must travel quickly before the storm grows stronger.”

No, they were not deer, although from a distance they resembled deer. Kendric had only heard them described in books of old, but he would know them anywhere. They were ancient beasts, the Chwyrn Droedio, and they were worth more gold than his entire house could afford. He was grateful the guards did not recognize what they were. They would have insisted on tracking them to sell, which Kendric could not bring himself to do.

The guard was, however, correct about their sudden presence: it was an omen. And if a herd of deer meant something important, a herd of ancients must mean something far more significant. What could it be? Good fortune, perhaps. He would discuss what he saw with Caden.

Though moors existed in the southern part of the province, giving the small town of Moorgard its namesake, marshlands filled the north. Normally, this would have provided dangerous conditions for travel, but the days had been cold and the nights even colder. For this reason, the ground was frozen firmly beneath the hooves of their horses, and provided safe passage.

Kendric had been to the sentry only once before, and as he approached it, he saw that it was as he remembered. Abandoned. Left in ruins. It had not been used for practical purposes in some time, yet a hint of its previous glory remained. Amid the crumbling walls, a lone, majestic tower continued to stand and keep watch over the sea.

“This damn place would topple in a soft wind,” one guard said gruffly.

Kendric chuckled as he dismounted and tied the horse’s reins loosely to one of the wooden girders near the door. “Then let us be thankful the storm has not broken and only light snow falls.”

He carefully peered into the room, pleased that Caden had chosen such a secluded area, and that their meeting would not be impeded upon. It was pitch black, save for the dim beam of light from the open door. He took a few steps into the darkness, and called out, “Caden?”

There was only silence.

“Caden?” he called out once more.

“In here,” came a quiet response from across the dark room.

Kendric smiled and walked forward, expecting an embrace. Instead, he felt rough hands grip his arms from either side. He struggled for his sword, but before he could grab the hilt, he felt a powerful punch to his gut. He lurched forward in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, gasping for breath.

“What matter is this!” one of his men shouted, unsheathing his sword.

Kendric heaved for air and attempted to pull away as a familiar voice shouted, “Stay your swords!” It was Senator Grigor Boraste.

When he opened his eyes, Kendric could see glowing torches, held by the magisters under Vaughn Garanth’s leadership. Boraste and Valifor stood in the center of the crowd. They no longer bore the sigil of the wheel upon their tunics, however. Instead, it was the tower‌—‌the sigil of House Boraste.

Beyond the group of magisters, he could see Caden‌—‌beaten and bloodied, slumped in a chair. One of Boraste’s men stood behind him, holding a dagger at his throat.

“Caden!” Kendric cried, instinctively struggling to get to him. But another punch to the stomach dropped him to the floor.

“You are hereby placed under arrest,” Grigor Boraste announced, crossing his arms, “for sedition, high treason, and the murder of King Braith Denorheim. You and your co-conspirators are to be publicly hanged from the neck until dead. Furthermore, you and any descendants are hereby stripped of title and land by order of the king.”

“We have committed no such crime!” Kendric shouted.

“You poisoned the king in his own chambers! And, in an attempt to protect a known dissident who would seek Prince Madoc’s rightful throne, you placed her in the Cærwynian province of Gweliwch with the aid of Gweliwch’s own military forces. As such, it is seen that you acted against the kingdom in order to support another. Or do you deny this?”

“I have done no wrong!”

“Then you refute the signed confession by the young officer of the Gwelian army?” Valifor held a parchment up to his eyes, but Kendric would not take the senator’s word as truth.

“You signed?” he said to his lover. “Is this true?”

Caden looked at the ground, unable to bring himself to look into Kendric’s pained eyes.

* * *

Kendric bit through his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. A muffled gurgle slipped through his pursed lips as the hempen rope stretched his arms further upward toward the wooden beam on the ceiling. Sweat poured down his brow. His toenails scraped across the floor. Were he to lift his feet to relieve his pain, his arms would pull out of their sockets.

His energy waned as exhaustion set in. The faces of his captors blurred through his tears and, in his near delirium, he could barely hear their voices.

“Usurper!”

“Valifor, you bastard,” he managed to croak.

The white hot brand hissed and seared into his flesh again, and he wailed in agony. As Culhwch Valifor pulled it away, it tore his skin, leaving his torso bloodied and scorched.

“You nithing.” Valifor tossed the brand back in the coals and leaned forward, mere inches from Kendric’s face. “You are only suited for utilitarian work and toiling of war. You would do best to serve Annwyd to the greatest of your ability. It would give some merit to your lowly existence.”