Chapter 136


    Stepping into the Light


    The town of Bluewater Wall clung to the south face of the ancient wall itself, a mix of stone and timber structures nestled against its towering battlements. It was the last true town before the northern wildlands. This was a place of real life—families, markets, children chasing stray dogs down cobbled alleys. It was starkly different to the outposts further north, containing nothing more than soldiers, rangers and some staff to keep the places running.


    Despite having kept Daegan’s true identity secret as they’d travelled north through Rubane, Tanlor and Daegan were far from masters of stealth.


    Tanlor could move silently when stalking enemy scouts in the field, but slipping unnoticed with a band of soldiers through a town buzzing on high alert for draega-riding rakmen? That was a different matter.


    They edged through the town square, where the Westmark soldiers filtered in through the heavy portcullis. There was a cacophony of shouted orders, calls of concern from civilians, and the endless rumble of wagon wheels over stone as groups gathered for the trek southward, towards Harriston and the safety beyond. Bluewater captains barked commands, trying to restore order among the crowd, yet the underlying current of fear was palpable.


    They’d attempted to blend into one of those groups and begin making their way south, hoping to slip away under the guise of ordinary travellers. They’d barely made it halfway across the square when Commander Kashin’s voice cut through the din, unmistakable and directed right at them.


    “Sir Tanlor, Captain Cru,” Kashin approached, acknowledging the two fighters, pointedly not addressing Daegan but looking him in the eye as he spoke, "I understand your squad managed to take down one of those cursed hellhounds. You have my respect and my gratitude for that."


    "Only doing our duty, Commander," Cru replied with a crisp salute, steady as ever.


    “I''m aware that my command only extends to Westmark—abandoned now that it is,” Kashin spoke directly to Daegan, “I''ve kept your identity from Commander Jarrik here at Bluewater, but I’d wager he’d take the same stance I did, to hold you here until we can better understand what’s happening in the south with your kinsmen.”


    Tanlor stiffened beside Daegan, and he noticed the Twin Garde men subtly shift, their discomfort evident. They’d agreed they wouldn’t draw arms if anyone tried to stop their departure, but the tension was as thick as a blade’s edge.


    "You disagree with that idea?" Daegan’s tone was calm, but Tanlor didn’t miss the sharpness in his expression.


    "I should''ve listened to you and your men when you first came to Westmark. We wouldn’t have lost two dozen soldiers if I had. But I didn’t, and now I’m bringing Jarrik only a fraction of the strength I’d hoped to offer."


    “Are you saying you trust me now?” Daegan asked.


    “I’ve been told you fought alongside us against those hellhounds. You know what was coming at Westmark and you never attempted to escape to save your own hide. You waited, because you knew you had to make me see the truth of what was coming. I don’t know what it is you’re planning, and something tells me you’re not likely to tell me. But whatever it is—whatever you can do to bring support to Bluewater Wall… I believe that you’ll do it.”


    Tanlor and Daegan exchanged a look, reading each other in the glance. Tanlor saw the question in Daegan’s eyes. Should we trust him? Tanlor gave a slight nod. For all Kashin’s mistakes, Tanlor couldn’t deny the man had only acted on what he thought was right. In Kashin’s boots, Tanlor wasn’t sure he’d have done any different. Besides, Kashin had a solid reputation in the outposts—one hard-earned and respected.


    “Truth is, Commander,” Daegan began, “I don’t know anything about the war down south. We were at Twin Garde, then trying to get our friends back from the rak camps the entire time… before that I was fleeing Rubastre because there were assassins trying to kill me. I don’t know why my brother invaded Rubane. I don’t know why there’s a battalion stationed at Harriston. But if I had to guess, whoever’s controlling Nordock now saw the Balfold as an open route, a straight shot to the city. Closing that gap made sense. Everything I do know about the war, I learned from you.”


    “But you’ve got a plan?” Kashin asked.


    “I do. Might be a good one—might not—but it’s a plan.”


    “For what it’s worth, Commander” Cru stepped forward, “all of us here believe in him.”


    Kashin nodded then. “Like all of us, Jarrik’s been sending messages to the Duke’s down south with the strange movements the rak have been making the past few weeks. But with everything going on in the south, he’s heard nothing. There won’t be any support from the Dukes. Last we got from Duke Rivers was an order to stand down against any Reldoni forces—that Nordock had bent the knee to them. But we need support here. I’ll be sending a runner to Harriston and Nordock both,” Kashin went on. “If you’re heading to Harriston, perhaps you’d take them along?” Kashin turned, nodding to both Moz and Scont who’d been hanging back.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “We’ll take them,” Daegan’s answer was immediate.


    “I’ll inform the Bluewater captains you’re acting under my orders, with urgent messages. They’ll let you pass through.”


    “You’d do that for us?” Tanlor blinked, caught off guard. He understood what it meant—Kashin was taking full responsibility for whatever Daegan did—or didn’t—do.


    “What does it matter?” he replied quietly. “If we don’t get help, none of us will last long enough for it to make a difference. My family lives here at Bluewater Wall. I’ll be sending them south with the caravans but this place… this is my home.”


    It was laid out bare for all of them. Kashin was desperate. Bolstered by the Westmark men, Tanlor figured that Bluewater Wall had four hundred fighters at best, and maybe fifty runewielders seasoned enough for combat. They were outnumbered, faced with the full brunt of the rakmen horde, and gods only knew how many draega monsters they would throw at that wall.


    The journey south had been swift, their pace relentless. The Twin Garde men had fallen in as Daegan’s honour guard without a second thought, undeterred by the potential hostility awaiting them. Despite Daegan’s warnings that the Reldoni soldiers at Harriston might not welcome him. Many of them already knew that there were Reldoni bloodshedders hunting Daegan, but none were deterred. Puck even joked that the bloodshedders’ interest in Daegan only proved he needed them at his side all the more.


    Kashin had seen them off with horses, their hooves thundering over the grassy expanse. Yaref and Cru were both familiar with the lay of the land, took the lead. Yaref’s old home was a short ride eastward, and he knew every shortcut to get them to Harriston in good time.


    By the time the sun dipped towards the horizon on the second day, the fortified town of Harriston loomed ahead, its stone walls outlined against the crimson sky, built upon a hill that commanded the surrounding landscape.


    They rode eleven strong; Daegan, Tanlor, Yaref, Puck, Tar, Cru, and the remaining Twin Garde men, with Moz and Scont as the new additions as scouts. Tanlor allowed himself a measure of relief that they’d managed to shake off Ardy back in Bluewater. He’d complained bitterly about being left behind, but they’d sent him off with a group of townsfolk bound for Nordock, and the man had relented eventually, grumbling all the way.


    “We should press on,” Tanlor said, surveying the distance ahead. “We’ll be arriving well after nightfall, but the road doesn’t look treacherous.”


    The group was taking a brief respite, standing on a grassy rise, overlooking the road ahead. The horses eating grass not far off.


    “It’s not,” Cru agreed, “I’ve travelled it many times.”


    “Will the gatesmen even let us pass at that hour?” Yaref asked, ever mindful of the body’s need for rest.


    “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that,” Daegan replied, his voice carrying a hint of warning. He was already walking toward his horse. “They’re coming to us.” He pointed to the approaching contingent just leaving the town—a sizable party of soldiers, unmistakably armed, and flying the black and red banner of Reldon.


    Tanlor’s jaw tightened as they mounted up, guiding their horses toward the advancing soldiers. They moved at a steady pace, making no show of aggression but enough to display their readiness. As they neared Tanlor could see the soldiers themselves were all notably Reldoni, a mixture of men and women, tall and tan. The sight of the female soldiers was enough to draw curious glances from the Rubanian men, many of whom held the view that the battlefield was no place for a woman. Tanlor himself believed that, despite Daegan’s logical arguments to the contrary.


    “We bring urgent word to whoever is in command at Harriston,” Daegan called out as they approached, his voice changed, and now carrying the authority of a man used to command. Tanlor remembered when Daegan used to use that tone back in Rubastre, before everything changed.


    “Identify yourselves!” The captain at the head of the Reldoni party lifted his hand, signalling his troops to halt. He was a sharp-featured man wearing a plumed helmet, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.


    Tanlor looked to Daegan unsure if now would be the moment for what he was planning.


    “My companions and I ride from Bluewater Wall to the north,” Daegan replied, his tone measured, aristocratic. “Tell me, Captain, who commands Harriston?”


    “Commander Trovin is in the town,” the captain replied, then hesitated as if unsure to add ‘my lord’ after. Before him stood a Reldoni man who spoke with the clear authority of a nobleman. His retinue might all be Rubanian, but Daegan himself was unmistakably highborn Reldoni.


    “Good,” Daegan replied smoothly, giving a nod of approval. “And where is the King?”


    “King Landryn leads the charge on Rub—” The captain caught himself, swallowing whatever words he’d intended to say. His hand tightened on his sword. “Forgive me, sir, but you’ve yet to identify yourself.”


    “That’s Prince Daegan!” one of the Reldoni soldiers shouted, his voice cutting through the air. He went on, but his words blurred into the commotion as swords were drawn and horses shifted. The Twin Garde closed ranks around Daegan, shields up, faces grim. Across from them, the Reldoni soldiers followed suit, metal glinting in the fading light.


    “Hold!” Daegan roared, his eyes now locked on the captain. “I am Prince Daegan Tredain. Put down your swords.”


    The Reldoni captain hesitated, lifting a hand to his men but not giving the order to stand down. “Keep your blades drawn!” he commanded.


    Then with every inch of command in his blood, Daegan spoke, “I am Landryn’s heir, and—gods forbid—if my brother falls in this war, I will be your next king.” The intensity of Daegan’s voice shook the captain.


    “Sheath. Your. Swords,” Daegan growled.


    Some sheathed their swords immediately. Others looked to their captain, who, after a tense moment, slowly sheathed his own blade.


    “Take me to Commander Torvin,” Daegan commanded. “I carry an urgent message from the warfront.”


    Tanlor caught himself holding back a smirk. Daegan hadn’t said which warfront.


    This was their gamble. Landryn was king and Daegan by all rights as his younger brother was the next in line. The world believed Daegan to be dead. And their hope had been that someone amongst all the Reldoni soldiers in Harriston would recognise him for who he was. It was by incredible fortune that some random soldier here did recognise him.


    They may have been able to convince this captain and his soldiers, but their true test would be Commander Trovin.