Allegiance by Cayla Kluver
“Alera?” London prompted, reminding me that I had not responded.
“I’ll go,” I said, coming to my feet, images of how the Overlord would look, how he would speak, what could happen, spinning in my head.
“It is not a necessity,” London repeated, aware of my unfocused expression.
“I’m not afraid.” My voice was more emphatic than I expected it to be, but I knew the rush of anger and anticipation inside me was feeding my confidence. “I want him to know that.”
A gasp from across the cave interrupted us, and our heads snapped to Steldor at an exclamation from Cannan.
“Steldor, it’s all right! Steldor!”
The gasp had not come from the young King in question, but from the High Priestess, around whose throat Steldor’s fingers had closed. She was clawing at his wrist, tugging in vain against his grip, and it wasn’t until Cannan reached out to pry his fingers away that Steldor relaxed his stranglehold.
“Steldor, stop, she’s not hurting you,” the captain repeated.
London, Halias and I drew near, stunned but relieved that Steldor was actually awake. Cannan extended a hand, advising us to give them some space, while the High Priestess coughed and rubbed her throat. She was staring incredulously at our King, who, despite his weakened body and disoriented mind, had been aware enough to recognize her as an enemy. Pride rose within me as Cannan tried to bring his son out of his agitated state. It was as though Steldor had been under water for days and was just coming up for air. He seemed lost and confused, and the rush to his senses was overwhelming. I could not imagine what it would be like to have accepted death, to have sunk into its embrace, then to awaken yet in this world.
It was not long before Steldor slipped again into unconsciousness, but Cannan and London shared a look of understated triumph.
“He’s coming back.” London smirked.
It was Halias who bore the message to the Cokyrians. London had composed it and entrusted it to his fellow deputy captain after allowing the other men, and me, to read and approve of its contents. The High Priestess had dryly offered to give her input as well, but London had only glowered in her direction.
I was worried, of course, that something would go wrong, but Halias returned four hours later, having doubled back to conceal his trail. Skipping the details, he assured us that he had convinced a lone, wandering Cokyrian soldier to deliver the note. It was easy, for the most part, to fight down anxiety over the role I would play, for London and I would not set off until the following morning. But every time I let my mind drift to the foggy image of the Overlord it had conjured—a petrifying, hulking figure—dread unhinged me. Half of me harbored the same murderous thoughts I’d had earlier, and the same desire to show him he could not conquer me; and the other half wanted to hide, to let him think I was dead so he could never come after me. I didn’t know which half was dominant.
The night grew late, but sleep would not come, and I rose from my bed to sit by the fire. To my surprise, Cannan left Steldor for the first time in days to sit beside me, his expression telling me he had something on his mind. The High Priestess was once more bound and lay a fair distance from his son, giving the captain cause for some respite, but still I knew he would not want to risk Steldor waking alone and disoriented. Whatever he had come to say had to be important.
“I knew your uncle,” he revealed, voice hushed as if he did not want to disturb the sleep of the others who lay around us, though I suspected he would have viewed this as a private conversation regardless. “Andrius was my best friend, Hytanica’s Crown Prince. He was treasured, and would have been a great king, one history would never have forgotten. Strong, stubborn, intelligent and not afraid to challenge anyone, not even his own father.” He smiled, remembering tales I would never be told. “He was compassionate, Alera, and bold—traits that ultimately led to his death on the battlefield, but without which he would have been half the man he was.”
As he pondered the flames, I began to wonder why he was telling me this, then his eyes found mine and he spoke once more.
“I see him in you, Alera. You have his spirit, which your own father, for all his goodness, lacks. But that is why I know you can do this. You won’t cower before the Overlord—you’ll show him the strength that lies in our kingdom, in the blood of our royal family. You’ll cause him that second of uncertainty that will open the door to our victory.”
His eyes held mine a moment longer, then he rose and returned to Steldor’s side. The doubts that had been plaguing me dissipated, and I knew I would face the Overlord with dignity at the meeting in the morning. For the second time I had been compared with this distant man of strength and valor, whose death had left a kingdom in mourning. Whoever he was, I would not let him down. And I would not let down my courageous comrades.
Cannan’s words and his confidence were with me when London and I left at dawn for a clearing in the woods just west of the Hytanican city. London had chosen the location carefully, wanting it to be close enough for ease of travel, yet far enough to prevent the discovery of our cave. He also wanted there to be a vantage point from which we could monitor the clearing, not trusting the Overlord in the least. Galen, known for his prowess with a bow, was even now taking up position to give us added protection.
The negotiation had been set for noon, and London was certain of two things: that the Overlord would attend, and that it would be unwise to be late. Like London, I wore breeches and a leather jerkin, with a cloak covering all; with my short hair and oversized clothing, I probably looked more like a boy than a queen.
We traveled on horseback about half the distance, hiking the remainder, London not even wanting our mode of transportation to give clues as to the whereabouts of our hiding place. The Elite Guard scanned the clearing where we would meet, which was about a hundred feet across, leaf-strewn and patchy with snow. It was surrounded by thick trees, mostly oak and elm, with relatively few pines, and the undergrowth was so dense it was grueling to push through. Then we settled in to wait, the clearing within view but our position difficult to detect.
We waited about an hour, with the hoods of our cloaks over our heads, slowly becoming stiff with the cold, before the sound of horses’ hooves moving through the brush became distinct. My heart threatened to explode, but I tried to breathe steadily. I was determined to show the Overlord the strength of our kingdom.
Though I could not yet see our adversaries, I knew more than one mount had broken through the underbrush.
“I thought he would come alone!” I seethed.
London pressed a finger to his lips, silencing me as a forceful voice echoed through the trees.
“You conceal yourself from me like a coward! Step out where I can see you, London. I know this is your game.”
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat as London rose from his crouch to saunter into the open. I wanted to cling to the ground like the frost beneath my feet, but I followed his example to the best of my ability, pulling back my hood at the same time he did his.
Across from us, two Cokyrians, cloaked and dressed in black, were dismounting. My heart beat erratically as I realized one was Narian. The other was a tall man wearing a black tunic over silver chain mail with metallic bracers on his forearms, his shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. He was not hulking as I’d pictured him; his movements were fluid, eerily graceful, as he stood by his thickly built black warhorse. His hair was red like his sister’s, but longer, pulled back at the nape of his neck. His green eyes were also identical to hers, though they were made striking not by their depth but by their harshness and cruelty. The foliage itself seemed to quake in fear as he walked, and the cold that came from him was different from that of the weather—it was a cold that weakened everything it touched. He was the first person I had ever met who felt utterly devoid of humanity.
Narian had likewise dismounted from his slightly smaller dark bay horse and was trailing his master by a few steps. Given his growth and increased bu
“It is you,” the Overlord sneered, scowling at my companion.
“Yes,” London replied, voice steely. “And that is why you can rest assured none of this is a bluff.”
The warlord snarled and abruptly thrust his arm out toward London. At once, the deputy captain screamed, collapsing to his hands and knees, but I stood rooted in place, too horrified to react or go to him. He fell to his side, writhing in agony, and only then did our enemy relent.
“I should have killed you long ago,” he spat as his victim panted, unmoving in the aftermath of the attack.
I had a strong desire to run, to save myself, not even caring if I left London behind, and probably would have if I had not caught the flicker of emotion that played in Narian’s blue eyes. Whether it was pride or love or admiration, I did not know, but it was enough to root me in place. I gazed at him, absorbing some of his spirit, and I felt my confidence return.
The Overlord began to pace, stalking back and forth in front of us, but he did not come closer, and this small detail told me we still held the upper hand. The warlord was furious, but he would not risk his sister any more than he already had.
I stepped in front of London to address our foe, suddenly defiant.
“And who are you, little one?” he asked.
“I am Queen of Hytanica,” I responded, voice firm, head high. “The High Priestess’s life is in my hands. Will you negotiate to save her?”
He stopped pacing, scanning me perhaps for signs of weakness, but I made sure that all he could read was my antagonism.
“Be careful what you demand. Only so far will I negotiate.”
He was trying to intimidate me, and thereby maintain control of the situation. But I could see the boast in his statement, and I did not vacillate over my next words.
“My kingdom has fallen, but thousands of my people still live. Let them walk free of the city, every last one of them, and I will spare your sister.”
His lip curled and he gave a low growl.
“You wanted Hytanica’s land, not her citizens,” I insisted. “My request is reasonable.”
I waited, feeling almost light-headed from my audacity, while he deliberated, still wearing that fearsome scowl. London stepped up beside me, having struggled to his feet, and his presence reinforced my demand.
“Tomorrow,” the Overlord said at last. “I will give answer then.”
I nodded. “Very well.”
London and I stayed in place as the Overlord and Narian returned to their horses and mounted. Just before he disappeared into the trees at his back, the warlord trained his vicious and unforgiving eyes on me.
“I will not forget your face, Alera of Hytanica,” he promised, and I felt for a moment as if I could not breathe.
We departed shortly after our enemy had. London, regardless of the clear instructions in the message we had sent the Overlord, and despite Galen’s ability to survey us, did not trust that we would not be followed, so he took us on a very roundabout route back to the horses and ultimately back to the cave, always checking behind. There was no trouble, however, which meant that the Overlord had taken us seriously.
I began to shake as my bravery drained away, and the full extent of the evil I had met registered. Nonetheless, I dared to believe we might succeed. When we arrived at the cave, the men gathered around the fire pit as London explained what had happened, leaving out the details of the Overlord’s attack on him, but still giving me credit for the negotiations.
“I was unexpectedly indisposed,” was as close as he came to the truth. I wondered if Galen might later provide the others with a more honest account of the meeting.
As we began to disperse, any lingering doubt I felt as to whether I had conducted myself correctly was alleviated when London for the first time in weeks cracked a genuine smile, nearly positive that all would go according to plan.
CHAPTER 27
NO CHANCE FOR GOODBYES
LONDON JOURNEYED BACK IN THE EARLY hours of morning, before the sun had risen, to await the Overlord, not believing it would be necessary for me to come a second time. Now that I knew of what the warlord was capable, I did not like the idea of the deputy captain going alone, but he promised everything would be all right and that he would return with word by evening, if not sooner.
For most of that day, the High Priestess continued healing Steldor. I sat at a fair distance from them, distrustful but enthralled, and unable to deny her abilities. Steldor’s fever had broken, the infection was leaving and he was rousing much more often. Cannan encouraged him now and then to eat and drink, and had tried explaining what Nantilam was doing, but Steldor was mostly unresponsive, likely still grappling with the fact that he was alive.
Halias had been assigned to guard the High Priestess and so rarely took watch anymore. Galen and Temerson were quite willing to shoulder this assignment, Temerson surprising everyone with his resiliency. The things he had seen, the cruelties he had firsthand experienced, had made him tougher and given him the desire to help in any way he could. It was odd to see him so changed; even his shy stutter was gone, an indication that he was no longer intimidated by life.
Miranna, unlike the boy she loved, was making very little progress. She remained quiet, skittish and altogether uncertain of the world and who she was. She needed a stable environment in which to mend, and right now she had the furthest thing from it. She had shyly acknowledged Halias at last, but it was only to Temerson that she spoke. I was thankful to have her suitor among us, for he was content to stay with her for hours on end.
Galen, between shifts on watch, was keeping busy sharpening and resharpening the multitude of weapons we had brought with us, along with the ones that had been stocked in the cave. He had not, to my knowledge, spent time with Steldor since his friend had begun his recovery, but with Cannan and the High Priestess always at the young King’s side, I didn’t know when he would have had the chance. At any rate, I knew Steldor’s steady return to health was lifting Galen’s mood tremendously. Considering our dire circumstances, things were going well.
When London returned, the sky was darkening, and I was cooking stew for our evening meal, Miranna sitting nearby. Temerson was on guard outside, and Galen was in charge of the High Priestess, enabling Cannan and Halias to talk, for they had begun to consider whether there had been a problem. An expectant hush descended as London entered the cave seemingly unharmed, only the grim set of his mouth giving us pause. All eyes went to him as he stopped in the middle of our hideout, running a hand distractedly through his unruly silver hair.
“Negotiations have changed,” he said curtly.
I got to my feet, his strange, aggravated manner staying all of our tongues.
“London, what is it?” I asked, clearing my throat as I realized how hoarse I sounded. “What happened?”
“Something we did not anticipate.” His hands formed fists at his sides, and he closed his eyes, taking a heaving breath. “I should have known the Overlord would not so easily accept our terms.”
Even the High Priestess was engrossed, her forehead creased, as Cannan and Halias stepped toward London, and Galen came to his feet.
“What happened?” Cannan repeated my question, his tone bracing, for he knew the news would be bad.
“King Adrik and Lady Elissia—they are alive. The Overlord offers their lives for that of the High Priestess.”
The blood drained from my face, and I stumbled a few steps toward London, emitting a small cry of distress that did not sound as if it had come from me.
“He’ll kill them?” I choked out, and London nodded.
“We can’t let him do that!”
I scanned the faces of the men standing solemnly around me, and their demeanors were anything but soothing.
“We have to rescue them!” I said shr
“He’ll have taken them back to the palace by now,” Halias sadly told me. “They’re most likely in the dungeon—there is no way to get to them.”
“The only way to secure their release is to give up the High Priestess, and even that is without guarantee,” London reiterated. “The Overlord is heartless, and now that we’ve angered him, he will not be interested in a fair trade.”
“Regardless of our desire to save the former King and Queen, we cannot give up the High Priestess for their lives alone. We need a better bargain,” Cannan argued, and even I knew from a military standpoint that this was true.
“You can’t just let them die!”
While those exact words had been on the tip of my tongue, it was not from my throat that they had sprung. I turned and looked at my sister, who was on her feet, eyes wide as she stared at us in horror. She was almost hysterical, but I did not go to her, hoping her outburst would make the others see sense.
“After everyone else we’ve lost,” she shrieked, “you can’t let them die, as well!”
Cannan and his two deputy captains looked at her guiltily and compassionately, but did not answer. Instead, Halias turned to me.
“We have no choice, Alera. I’m sorry, I truly am, but I agree with the captain. We can’t give up the High Priestess. She’s all we have.” His tone was pained, and it was plain that everyone’s nerves were strung taut.
“The Overlord is clever enough to know that we won’t kill his sister lightly,” Cannan added. “He’s going to torment us to the extent he can. He enjoys playing these games.”