Alliance of Serpents (16 page)

Too many questions at once. He suspected he
was going to have to put on a cold facade frequently to dispel the
rumors that were obviously going around. "My father and Arus are
both gone," he told her quickly, "and both my mother and Arus'
mother are aware. I haven't seen Katlyn."

Melia had been pawing at her blue wool skirts
until that last statement. Her eyes shot up at him and turned
toward the direction of Trader's Square just as quickly. Brown
curls swayed around her shoulders and glistened in the sunlight as
she moved. "Then we have to find her and let her know that you're
alive!"

His hand grabbed her shoulder harder than he
intended, and he loosened his grip a bit. "I'm sorry, but I don't
have time for that. I have some important matters to attend to." He
hated saying the words; there was a time not too long ago when he
would've been all too happy to spend time with Melia. But things
were different now. There were responsibilities on his shoulders,
and he was not going to let his father down. "I have to get to the
Square."

She froze momentarily, eyeing him with a
nervous stare. "W-Why?" she asked. "What's wrong? Has something bad
happened again? It's the Mages, isn't it? By the Maker, why can't
they just—"

Vultrel very nearly cupped his hand over her
mouth. "It's not the Mages, and nothing has happened," he cut in.
"Everything is fine. I just have something important to do and I
don't have time to spend playing around today."

She trailed behind him as he continued toward
the center of the village, rambling on about how everyone was on
edge about the Mages and that many wanted to find a way to set fire
to the Mayahol itself to end the whole thing. Vultrel only
half-listened, though he found it odd that she never mentioned
concern over the lack of soldiers to defend them in the case of
another attack. Regardless, it would matter little once he got the
new militia on their feet.

It was business as usual in Trader's Square,
though many citizens seemed to be stocking up on food and supplies
as though a hurricane was on the way. Everywhere he looked, people
carried multiple baskets filled with apples and pears and oranges
and melons. Villagers pulled wheelbarrows full of masonry supplies
and tools. Long boards of wood were bundled together and carried on
the shoulders of shirtless men. Repairs from the Mages attack at
the Festival of Souls were no doubt still underway, but these
supplies were being hauled off by workers and average citizens
alike. More than once Vultrel saw signs that read "Out of
Inventory" standing in front of shops that had been closed up. It
wasn't usual behavior for Keroko, unless there really
was
a
hurricane coming. Either way, there was work to be done.

Ben Mantes' Blacksmith Shop was located on
the northern side of the square. It was a large building of grey
stone adorned by yellow wooden shutters around the windows and
topped by brown thatch. A billowing plume of black smoke poured
from the chimney, indicating that Ben and his assistants were hard
at work inside. What caught Vultrel by surprise was sight of two
rows of freshly polished swords and newly sharpened axes lined up
on a rack just beside the front door. Ben's wife Synthia stood
beside the rack where a young man was examining one of the blades.
She smiled and nodded at Vultrel as he pushed the door open. "I am
glad to see that the rumors weren't true," she said in a motherly
voice.

Vultrel returned the smile with a polite bow.
"As am I," he said.

Inside, Ben was standing beside the forge
along with Dendan Carsal and Mat Marren, his apprentices. Melia
stood in the doorway, glancing between the soot covered men inside
and her clean dress. Eventually, she allowed the door to close
behind her, but she walked no further.

"Vultrel!" Ben exclaimed, looking up from his
work. He held a long steel rod into the burning coals, slowing
turning it. "Good to see you! So many rumors have been flying
around lately that I wasn't sure what to believe anymore!"

If one more person mentioned those bloody
rumors . . . "Good to see you too, Master Mantes. I'm afraid a
couple of those rumors are indeed true. Arus and my father are both
gone." He paused momentarily, but not long enough for apologies to
be uttered. He didn't want to feel sorry for himself, and Eaisan
wouldn't have wanted that either. "Life has been a bit hectic
lately, but the recent changes in my life have paved the way for a
new beginning, and I intend to make the most of it."

Ben's mood was notably diminished.
"Understandable, Vultrel. If there is anything I can do to help,
I'll be happy to try."

That was his opportunity, and he wasn't going
to let it slip by. "Actually, there is something you could do for
me."

The blacksmith didn't even look up from his
work. "Name it."

"With my father gone, his responsibilities
fall on my shoulders. I don't know how much everyone has heard or
what the rumors say, but most of the militia was wiped out during
the battle at Cathymel. The only surviving militiamen are the ones
that stayed behind to protect the village, and that number is quite
small."

Ben removed the glowing steel rod from the
coals and walked over to the anvil, carrying his heavy hammer. "I
know," he nodded. "It's a shame how everything Eaisan worked so
hard to build was destroyed by Vermilion scum."

"Well, I'm going to rebuild it," Vultrel told
him. "It's my job, my responsibility, but I'm going to need help.
You're an excellent weapons master. I could use your help in
training new recruits. I could use your help with supplies. I know
you have to keep your business running and I'll make sure you get
paid for your time one way or another, but I think you could make a
huge difference in Keroko's future."

The man's eyes had taken on a wary look from
the first sentence spoken, and he almost seemed to forget the
glowing rod and hammer in his hands. That was no surprise;
Vultrel's request was no small one. And while compensation had yet
to be secured, Vultrel knew that all those weapons the militia used
in the past had to have come from somewhere, and whoever made them
needed to feed their families just as much as anyone else.
"Vultrel, I don't know what you've heard since returning," he began
slowly. A meeting with the mayor would straighten the financial
concerns out. "But the Royal Guard has taken on the role of
Keroko's protection." And supplies; Ben would certainly need those
in order to craft anything in the first place. Dendan and Mat would
have to be paid, too. So much to organize. "The Keroko Militia has
been dissolved by His Majesty himself." And then there was food.
Who would be best to organize and supply food? "He said that Keroko
deserved better protection since we are so close to the Mayahol."
Farmer Boyer would probably be able to help out, and Vultrel could
certainly tend his own crops early in the mornings. There was armor
to consider as well. "Haven't you seen the madness out there? They
started building the first guardhouses today." Water would be an
issue, too. How does one ration water between an entire army and
the rest of the village? Another question for Mayor Randolf.
Guardhouses? Wait, what?

"What was that?" Vultrel asked, snapping away
from his thoughts.

Ben's somber look was all too telling. Even
Mat and Dendan were looking at him with remorse. "I'm sorry,
Vultrel," Ben said, sticking the rod back into the coals without
hammering once. "The Royal Guard is in control of security now. A
detachment of troops arrived two days ago. It was ordered by His
Majesty. We've been hard at work crafting weapons for them ever
since."

"I'm sorry, too." Melia's soft voice spoke
from behind. "I thought you knew."

"How could I have known?" he snapped harsher
than he should have. "I just got back last night."

"Lord Sarathon's orders cannot be reversed by
anyone but himself," Ben said. "Did you really think you were going
to be in charge of the militia now? Don't be so eager to throw your
youth away, Vultrel. You're still a kid."

The words grated against his spine. How he
would love to be a kid again, but Eaisan's death and Arus'
departure had robbed him of his youth. The responsibilities of the
Lurei men fell to his shoulders now, and he should be allowed to
assume the role of his father in Keroko's society. Instead, he was
being replaced by Lord Sarathon's troops—bless his heart, His
Majesty only wanted to help—and that reduced Vultrel's role to
little more than a farmer. Farming wasn't enough to make an impact
on the safety of Keroko and it certainly wouldn't crush the
Vermilion Mages. With a grunt of frustration, he clenched his fists
and started for the door.

"I'm sorry, Vultrel," Ben said again. "I can
tell this meant a lot to you. Don't worry. You'll do your father
proud. All you need to do is care for your mother. That's all he'd
want you to do."

Vultrel suppressed a snort of disgust. What
did
he
 know about what Eaisan would've wanted his son
to do? "Thank you, Master Mantes," he said despite his anger. "Good
luck with your work. I know the guardsmen are getting the best
craftsmanship Keroko can offer."

Back in the street, Vultrel kept a steady
walk moving him away from the shop. His temper was raging inside,
but he refused to allow it to show. Knowing that the faces around
him were bustling about to serve the troops that had taken away his
duty drove him nearly mad, but he would not respond like a fifteen
year old boy. He was a man by circumstances, and he would act as
one. Melia tailed him, all the while begging him to slow down, but
he ignored her voice. His feet carried him to the south side of
Trader's Square, into the streets beyond, past farms and homes and
stables and supply sheds, toward the southern gates. No one
understood what he was going through, and everyone seemed eager to
call him a child forever. When he reached the gate, Melia grabbed
his shoulder, and he whirled around in a blind rage, first knocking
her hand away and then pushing her to the ground. "Get your hands
off me!" he growled, hovering over her. "You think you know what
its like! You think you know everything about the world! You think
you've got all the answers, don't you?"

Melia shook her head, tears streaming down
her face as she scooted away from him in the dirt. "I just . . . I
want to help," she stammered.

"You can't help, Melia!" he shouted. "There's
no one who can! No one knows the Kyrosen like I do! No one knows
what's really going on out there!"

The girl was still shaking her head. "The
who
?"

Vultrel grit his teeth, realizing what he'd
said. Passing villagers were beginning to stop and stare, and he
had no interest in drawing attention. "Just go home," he finally
said. "Go home and leave me alone." Before she could say a word, he
turned and stormed through the south gate. He needed to think, to
sort things out, to come up with some kind of plan for his life,
and there was only one place he ever went to think. The forest
wouldn't be the same without Arus chasing him down for a duel, but
it was his best option if he was to get away from the village and
have some time to himself.

The leaves swayed overhead in the warm
breeze, sending the occasional broken branch or rotten apple
falling to the ground. Insect chirps filtered through the melodies
of the birds overhead in a song that floated through the air
alongside the sweet aroma of tulips and daisies and honeysuckles.
Leaves and pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he wandered,
headed nowhere in particular. A small fox scampered across the path
several paces ahead of him. At least in the forest, things rarely
changed. The birds would always be singing, the wolves would always
be hunting, and the bees would always be buzzing. The trees would
always stand tall through even the nastiest of storms, and smaller
flowers trampled by the wildlife or withered over time could always
be counted on to bloom again. It was times like this that Vultrel
envied the animals of the land. None of them had to carry the
responsibilities he did. None of them had to shoulder the burden.
For them, life just went on as always, their routine forever
unbroken.

A fallen log rested across the path ahead,
worn and flattened by the years of abuse from hunters and gatherers
that passed through. Head in his hands, Vultrel sat on its center,
trying in vain to sort his emotions. The King had taken his duty
from him, and although Lord Sarathon's actions were intended for
the good of Keroko, it was a blow to the Lurei family to be deemed
no longer capable of securing the village. Eaisan had handled the
job with honor and dignity. He created something that even the
Royal Guard couldn't possibly duplicate. To them it was just a job,
just a village. But to Eaisan's militia, it had been home, and they
had served Keroko with the respect and dedication that came with
such a personal relationship. Master Mantes had tried to break the
news gently, and there was no reason to be angry with him. And
there had certainly been no reason for Vultrel to treat Melia as he
had. His emotions were getting out of control. His life was getting
out of control.

"What in the world am I going to do? What
have I become?"

There were no answers amidst the chatter of
the woods. The humid air almost seemed to wrap itself around his
neck along with the myriad of problems weighing on his shoulders.
He wanted to scream, but the lump in his throat would've reduced
any shout to little more than a strangled whimper. His place in
Keroko had been swept out from under his feet before he'd even
realized it, and now he was just another boy assigned to tend his
father's farm. There was nothing left for him. No purpose. No duty.
Nothing that would let him even walk in the shadow of Eaisan's
honor, much less carry it himself. He was a young man without a
path to tread, and it was all because of Sartan Truce.