The sun was beginning to filter through the trees when Silas guided his horse on to the narrow path that began outside the borders of the empire. The group behind him emerged from the forest and joined him on the dirt lane. They had left the wagon behind when they entered the forest, and the prisoners were now on horseback, with their hands tied to the pommels of their saddles.

They had only gone a short distance when a man dressed in black leather armor and weathered cloak stepped out of the trees on the right side of the lane. His armor was lighter than the soldiers, and he carried a long pike. Silas slowed his horse to a stop next to the sentry.

“My lord,” the man said, bowing his head.

“What word have you received?” Silas asked.

“I was told to expect you this morning,” the sentry replied. “I also dispatched the rest of my men to the locations that you specified.”

Silas felt a small grin stretch his lips.

“What orders were they given in regards to their prey?”

“One man, two women, and a wolf. Bring the man in, and the rest were expendable.”

“Good,” Silas said. “Can you hold this area until I reinforce you?”

“Of course, my lord,” the sentry replied, bowing his head again.

Silas nodded in response, and spurred his horse back into motion. If they kept a good pace, they would be atop the mountain pass by midday. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the three prisoners were sitting tall in their saddles, defiance in their posture. His eyes met Merrick’s and he saw a fiery hate in the man’s gaze. Silas returned his attention to the road ahead, but still felt Merrick’s gaze on his back. The old soldier had been there on the worst day in Silas’s life. He still felt the shame burning inside of him, and it was his failure that almost collapsed the entire rebellion. He had thought the man long dead, but fate had delivered him to Silas, along with the son of Aidan Dallax.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Silas had no doubts about who the channeler boy was. The reports from his men about brilliant green eyes had lured his interest, but the involvement of Merrick had confirmed it. Soon, his men would bring the boy to him, and he could finally wipe out his mistake from so long ago. Perhaps the masters would finally end his banishment from the core of their empire. He knew he was lucky that they hadn’t killed him, but he had spent twenty years marooned in Skethold as a gatekeeper, sentry, and recruiter. It was time for him to get rewarded for his loyalty and dedication.

He saw that the ground ahead was beginning to rise, and the trees were thinning. This was one of the very few gentle slopes on the jagged Akals, and he was glad that they did not have to brave any of the treacherous switchbacks or cliffs. The only other passable place was to the northwest, but it was infested with wild crags.

About fifteen years before, he had sent twenty men to try and capture or kill the beasts. He had found that crags were great attack dogs when you had them trained, but the ones in the northern pass were uncontrollable. The Alpha was a giant, and would not let any of his pack be taken. None of the men returned from that disastrous mission. From then on, he left those creatures to themselves, and instead captured the roaming ones for his own purposes.

The sun was descending from its apex when Silas crested the pass and saw Skethold below him. He halted his horse and took in the view. The small and stout fortress was never an impressive sight to him, but something inside of him felt pleasure at seeing his home. The four square towers and thick walls surrounded a large main building and courtyard. It was austere and rough, but that was how he liked his fortress. The land below was clear of snow, but the air was still as cold as on the other side of the mountains. The sun above him held little warmth, and it would only get colder as winter took hold in the coming months.

One of his soldiers came up beside him holding a tall pole in one hand, with a black silk banner tightly wrapped around it. Silas nodded at the soldier, and the man set to unfurling the banner. The breeze kicked up the black silk and upon it was the sigil of the coiled snake in green.

Silas spurred his horse and they began their descent towards the fortress. Soon, he would hold the key to his salvation, and the masters would wipe away the stain of his past.