Plight of an Empire

Chapter Nine- part 2: Jyrik

“Are you ready to go, Prince Jyrik?” a burly man called Morven asked.  His fair hair fell to his shoulders, with a plaited beard to match.  He was to be Jyrik’s guide to Frostfall, being a native of the town.

The rising sun’s rays had just begun to creep over the horizon, casting its light over the buildings of the city.  The stark white of the snow shone against the new day’s light.  When the sun would reach the middle of the sky, the newly laid snow would be nearly blinding.  By that time, Jyrik and his caravan would be halfway to Weywynd.

The prince nodded as he rubbed the nose of his grullo mare.  “Are the prisoners set to depart?” he asked Owyn Parrett.  The steward was bundled in a thick layer of furs, yet he still shivered beneath them.

“The murderers are being brought in their cages by Lord Ronan Pellinor and his Brothers”, Owyn said with chattering teeth.  “The girls were… resistant to just walking into their cages this morning.  Lisbette, the fire-witch, summoned an inferno that burned one of the Brothers badly.  She had to be sedated with the Druiki plant as they had been when they were brought here.  Laelette, on the other hand, was a bit easier to convince.  She did not require sedation.”

“She knew that fighting would be useless in that harness.”

A gust of wind ripped through their lines, nearly blowing the steward over.  “The gods curse this blasted wind”, he mumbled as he pulled the furs tighter to his body.  “It seems that Laelette is the smarter of the two sisters”, he said to Jyrik once the wind had died down.

“I wouldn’t say that Lisbette is stupid, but she was just looking to fight the inevitable.  It is a natural response to seek freedom when trapped”, Jyrik told Owyn.  “Laelette just saw that fighting would do nothing to save her.”

Another blast of wind howled in the city.  “I pity you and your men”, Owyn said with sympathy in his voice.  “It will only get colder the further north you go.  The non-natives of the Black Rocks say that the Drop-Off is much closer than the back of the mountains.”

A gruff grunt behind Jyrik drew his attention.  Morven was standing with a permanent scowl etched on his features beneath his beard.  “Men who say that do not belong to the north anyway.  Cold hardens the flesh.”  He looked the heavily bundled up steward up and down with a sneer.  “Men like you would never last in the cold.  Your flesh is soft.”  He turned back around and continued hauling the supplies in the carts.

Owyn stared at the northerner with wide eyes and a slack jaw.  Jyrik suspected that the steward-of-the-king had never had been spoken to in such a crude manner.  Perhaps the northerner was right about him.  He was soft.  Beneath his layers of furs, his doublet was stretched over his stomach.  His girth did not match that of King Wymare Strom, but he appeared that the decadence of palace life had overcome his willpower.

“Prince Jyrik”, a voice called over the howling wind.  Jyrik scanned the area and saw Lord Ronan approaching with two cages, one wrought with stone and iron and the other with the blue steel of Iceglass, being drug behind him by two stallions a piece.  Three men of the Brotherhood flanked each side of the cages.  Inside the cages, there was nothing but silence.

Jyrik bowed his head at the approaching Brothers.  “Lord Ronan”, he greeted.  “Owyn has just told me of the injuries one of your men sustained at the hands of Lisbette Pellinor.  I have faith that the gods will allow him a speedy recovery.”

Lord Ronan bowed his head in return.  “I thank you, prince”, he said with a voice as cold as the wind howling around them.  “Lisbette continues to remain sedated.  Laelette is awake, but unharnessed.  That was her one condition for complying with our orders.”

Jyrik saw Owyn tense up out of the corner of his eye.  “Why would you allow for that to happen?” he demanded, his voice barely reaching over the howl of the wind.  “What happens if she escapes?  She could help her sister escape and kill all of you!”

“That will not happen on my watch”, Jyrik interjected as he crossed his fur covered arms over his chest.

“I have faith in Berik’s smithing skill and in Jyrik’s capabilities”, Lord Ronan said with a scowl.  It was obvious that Lord Ronan cared not for being told what to do.  Being the leader of the Brotherhood of Dawn tended to have that effect it seemed.

The steward backed down and turned away from Lord Ronan and the Brothers, his cheeks reddened from a combination of embarrassment and chill.  Another blast of wind nearly sent him back on his arse.  Jyrik noticed a ghost of a smile on Lord Ronan’s lips.

“I have one final, more personal question for you, Jyrik”, Lord Ronan began as he adjusted the sword on his hip.  Jyrik’s eyes followed the movement to the sword.  Its blade had the unmistakable blue hue of Iceglass.  For ceremonial purposes, each Brother carried an Iceglass weapon forged for him.  The cold steel was sharper than any regular steel sword and could go longer without a sharpening at the grindstone.  Jyrik had imagined what it would feel like to be stabbed with an Iceglass blade.  Those who have been claim that it’s like being stabbed with ice itself.

“Please, make it quick”, Jyrik replied as he turned to face the horse.  He would not give the Brotherhood any reason to believe that he feared them.  Even if it meant hiding the fear in his face.

Lord Ronan snorted as he approached Jyrik.  The rattling of the chainmail grew louder as he came closer to the Hermunan prince.  A heavy head clasped Jyrik on the shoulder, nearly causing him to jump.  “As you know, I care for my niece very much.”  Jyrik looked at the heavily armed man and nodded.  “I know that she cares deeply for you.  If something were to happen to you… I would fear for her.  The empire would suffer.”  He paused when the howling wind picked up again.  He seemed to welcome it as he gathered his thoughts together.  When it died down he continued.  “My question is do you love Audriel?”

Jyrik was taken aback.  He could not believe that he would be asked that.  “Of course I love her”, he replied.  “I have always loved her.  I consider her to be my sister, perhaps closer than even my very own sister.”

The leader of the Brotherhood nodded with one of his rare smiles.  “I am glad to hear that”, he said.  “Let your love for her guide you back.”  He clapped Jyrik on the back and strode away with the remainder of his Brothers.

Berik Slovis finished attaching the twins’ cages to the line of carts.  Though the process took only a few minutes to complete, Jyrik half expected for the inhabitants to attempt breaking out, but only silence came from the cages.  With the final clasp hooked, Berik nodded to Jyrik as a signal that they were ready.  Jyrik returned the nod as he clambered up onto his mare.

“Tell the rest of the men that we leave now”, he ordered to one of the men with a grey beard that covered half his face and fell to his chest.  He would have to learn their names over the course of the trip.  Men who did not know their leaders would not willingly fight and die for them.  The man gave a curt nod and trudged off against the wind.

It is finally time Jyrik thought.  He spurred his horse forward to the exit of the city gates.