Words Written in Lightning: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Man of Shadows and Secrets

King Alexander Ryall, Ryall Manor, Whiteridge

"Where-are-MY-SONS!" Alexander bellowed, clipping off the end of each word. "Visermann, I trusted you once--I gave you one chance--to protect Elenore's legacy. . ." he took a deep breath, his face turning as red as his jacket. "And THIS is what happens!" he slammed his fist into the fine mahogany table, making his glass of whiskey and Visermann's wine jump. He heaved a great sigh of frustration, falling into a chair with a thud. "And now the three people who would truly carry on her memory are missing," he said, having finished his rant. 

Visermann took a step back, looking almost nervous. "Recall, Alex, you--"

"Don't call me by that name," he growled, tightening his grip on the chair's armrests. "You don't have the right to any more."

"Just as I gave up the right to the throne?"

"Ha! You knew what would happen, Visermann." He ran his hand across his face. "You practically gave the throne to me."

Wisely, Visermann stayed silent.

There was a long pause before anyone spoke again.

"Your boys should be fine," Visermann said at last. "They should be coming here any minu--"

"You said should," Alexander said softly. "Why would there be a should in that sentence?"

"My Lord--" Visermann began.

Alexander grabbed the lapel of Visermann's fine velvet suit, pulling Visermann's face towards his.

"You never call me 'my Lord'. What's your game?" he said, struggling to keep his tone quiet and level.

Some faraway piece of Alexander knew that he was probably making a mistake. Adding should to a sentence didn't make it sinister, and it surely didn't mean that Visermann was unsure of his sons' safety. It could have just been part of his form of speech, or a poorly worded sentence.

But Visermann wouldn't make a slip like that.

Visermann flashed Alexander a serpentine smile.

"I have no game, brother," he said. "I was simply trying to tell you that the man who is watching your sons--"

Alexander jerked Visermann's coat. "Are you saying, that you put the blood of Rhylath, Elenore's only legacy, in the hands of an incapable man!?" the king of Rhylath shouted. "The only reason I appointed Elden as the leader of the White Lion Guard after Gilbert died was because you suggested it!" 

Everything he says is so cold and calculated.

"No, I simply meant--"

He's not the kind of person who speaks before thinking. Quite the opposite.

"Know your place, Visermann!" Alexander snapped, shoving Visermann as he released the prince.

"Elden and the boys will be arriving any minute now, Alex--" 

Alexander shot him a death glance.

Visermann sighed. "Fine," he said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. "Be that way." He left the room, gently shutting the door.

Alexander picked up the glass of whiskey, swirling it, staring into the fireplace. 

Redwood, huh? Alexander thought. Burning redwood means something bad is about to happen. . .

He downed half the cup, sitting back down and slouching in his seat, not bothering to care that his uniform was askew.

Prince Edmond Ryall, Whiteridge

The rain had finally stopped.

Edmond shuddered as Cinder splashed into another icy cold puddle of mud.

I'm really working Cinder here, aren't I. . . Edmond thought. They'd been riding for at least two hours at a canter, only fifteen minutes ago slowing to a brisk trot. Built for endurance though he was, Cinder wasn't going to be able to last much longer.

"How far?" Edmond yelled to Elden.

"To get to the location Lord--" he cut himself off, as if he were about to say the wrong name.

". . . Alexander," Elden said slowly, deliberately, "ordered me to take you. . . ." he looked to his left, stopping his horse and signaling for the boys to do the same. "We're here."

****

"Here" turned out to be a hollow in a hill. 

"Wish we had some straw to rub down the horses with," Richard commented. For reasons unknown, he'd always been soft towards animals.

"Well, they can do without for now," Lionel said. "Though you are right--they'll be sore and cold for a while without proper treatment. . ."

Upon opening the bags they were given, the boys found out that they were filled with basic survival supplies for both them and the horses.

Sadly, due to the rain, they had been unable to start a fire. But at least they'd been able to get out of the winds, and the packs had held a change of clothing--so they were now semi-dry, and a little warmer. 

Edmond sat, pressed up against a sleeping Cinder, carving away at an apple with one of the knives they had. Darkheart sat propped up in its sheath against the wall, arm's length from where he sat. 

Edmond bit into a piece of his apple. "So. . . What now?" he asked. He knew he should stay awake--battle shock could leave him incapacitated unless he knew absolutely nothing was wrong. 

But Cinder's breath and heat are so calming. . . And his soft, silky hair feels just--so good. . .

Myles was asleep, curled up in a blanket several feet away from Edmond. Richard, at some point, curled up in a blanket of his own next to Myles.

Lionel looked up from putting resin on his bowstring. "What now. . ." he muttered.

When did he grab his bow? Edmond wondered. It was probably put in his pack.

Edmond's second set of throwing knives--made of kensin, a shiny topaz-colored metal that exploded when wet--had been inside their waterproof case within his own pack.

"I don't know." Lionel put the resin away and got out a soft cloth, wiping the water from the wood.

Elden was playing some sort of game with a circle he drew in the dirt and a set of colored rocks. It was littered with many different shades of green. 

"What're you doing, Lord Provost?" Lionel asked.

Elden coughed nervously. "You needn't call me Lord Provost. It's really not that high a rank--I only have the authority of a viscount."

"Still," Lionel said. "Though my father is a duke, I do not hold his power." Lionel reached over and grabbed one of Edmond's apple slices, popping it into his mouth before returning to caring for his bow.

"Yet you will, someday," Elden said. "And you still hold more authority than me. You're basically an earl without the title."

"It's a Shindo game, I believe," Edmond intervened. "Snake or something. You throw rocks into a circle and try to get as many of the same color connecting into a swerving line--or, a Snake." 

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise being the clacking of Elden's rocks and the dripping of rainwater from the cave's entrance.

Elden stood up abruptly. "I'm going out for some fresh air." He paused, then looked at Edmond. 

"Don't follow me."

He mounted his mare, then left the shallow cavern.

Elden Drusillus, Ryall Manor, Whiteridge

Elden pulled back on the reins, stopping his white mare. He sighed, hoping that he hadn't been gone too long. Though the sun had come up while they were in the caves, the clouds and mist were shrouding the sun, leaving Elden without way to keep track of time.

"Hush, Frost," he whispered, putting the reins in one hand and petting Frost's coarse neck with the other. His breath and Frost's came out in thin white puffs, barely visible. Elden shivered. "It's all going to be. . . Okay."

He dismounted.

"You're late," said a deep voice. Elden turned with a start.

A man wearing a dark coat bearing the symbols for a colonel walked from the dark.

Elden saluted, realizing that this was an officer of much higher rank. 

"Are the boys where Visermann told you to take them?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Don't 'sir' me. I was discharged with dishonor." He sniffed. "I don't like the title anyway."

Odd, Elden thought. Why is he wearing that coat, then?

"Where is my family?" Elden asked abruptly.

"You failed to come in time. They're dead."

Elden stepped back, hand on the hilt of his sword. "No."

The man in black took out a cigar and snapped his fingers beneath it. 

It lit.

Elden's eyes widened. He swallowed nervously.

Elden suddenly unsheathed his sword, charging forward, swinging it in an upward slash. The man dodged easily.

 Almost lazily.

What the--Elden thought. He tried again.

The man sighed, dodging Elden's second attack. He dropped his cigar and ground it out with the ball of his foot. "I liked that cigar, you know," he complained.

Elden stumbled back, his fury dying down, fear taking its place.

"Well, this is taking longer than it should. . ." the man muttered. His arm twitched.

At first, Elden didn't realize anything was wrong. 

Then he felt it. Searing pain, just below his left breast.

He tried to speak, but blood flowed out of his throat instead of words. 

Must have. . . Punctured a lung. . . But--When?

Elden looked down, and finally saw the the crimson knife sprouting from his chest. 

A particularly strong gust of wind blew by, and the man's hat went flying off. 

The man had black hair and gold eyes. He had a long chin and sharp features.

That face morphed, becoming a very pale man with pale white hair and red irises. He had a strong chin and a rounded jaw. A man by the name of Harris Drusillus. Elden's brother.

He died four years ago.

"What-are-you?" Elden couldn't get the words to form.

"Tsk tsk." The man bearing Harris's face looked at the hat blowing in the breeze. "Don't worry, my young Drusillus. . . I'll make sure your corpse goes to good use."

Elden's world went dark.

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Pronunciation Guide:

*Ryall

RE-all.

*Rhylath

RYE-ah-lath.

*Visermann

V-EYE-zer-men. It's a hard v. Vi is one syllable.