Chapter 18
Sleep did not come easy for Arios. He lay in bed starring out at the rain. Kenosia had been under siege for less than a month and already it was coming apart at the seams. Did the Kyrithon truly wield this type of power? Ilaria believed so but she had always been enamored by the supernatural. But try as he might to dismiss it, there was certainly something to it. Something terrifying. The way their voices carried on the wind, how their words crept into your mind, hiding in its shadows and latching on to your very thoughts. And the dreams, or rather nightmares. They haunted his sleep. Each night new horrors awaited and yet there was more to them. They felt prophetic, like messages guiding his way. What had the assassin, Syretha, said to him? It was something about his dreams but the poison she had slipped him had dulled his mind and as time passed, he found he could scarcely remember her words at all.
He thought again of yesterday’s fighting. He had been so afraid. Trapped in the surging mob, a raging mass closing in from all angles. He had given up hope, sure that he was to be trampled beneath their feet. But Ilaria had saved him. Gripped him tight and pulled him from the throng. She had been so calm, so prepared. It was as if she had known what was going to occur. Could she have?
He lay in bed restless, pondering. What did all this mean? How was Kenosia meant to survive this? Why had the King not come for them? He thought for hours, until first light when the Kyrithon song broke the dawn, until finally Father returned home.
He found Father drooped over the low table empty goblet on the floor. He looked up as Arios entered the room. His face was spent. Eyes weary, clothes wet with rain.
“Arios? Come sit with me.” His voice was hoarse, faint, gone to a whisper.
“Father, you need rest. Let me take you to your bed.”
“Soon Arios, soon. But first, sit with me.” He gestured to the seat beside and retrieving his goblet poured wine for them both.
He took the seat. “What is it, Father?”
“The city has lost much this night. All our provisions in the Low Ward have been burnt to ash. Lord Argyros does not have a number as of yet but it looks to be at least half of the cities stock.”
“Oh Father!” It was an unthinkable amount lost but Kenosia’s resources were vast, “It will be alright, won’t it? All know of our city’s great stores.”
Father sighed and his face grew dark, “That remains to be seen Arios. There has been talk amongst the city’s nobles of a strict ration for the lower wards. They seem to believe that since it was the Low Ward that was struck that they should bear the brunt of its consequences…”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“But Father—”
“I know Arios, where do you think I have been all night? Lord Kalydor has overruled them for now but if they gain any more support who knows for how long he will be able to do so. And that is not all. Because of yesterday’s violence they are closing all the markets in the city.”
Arios gasped. “But…how will we eat?”
“They will have soldiers bring rations once a week.” He spoke quickly, anxiously, as if afraid that any moment he might be prevented from finishing his words. “They will start in the Upper Ward. By the time the people in the Low Ward see any food it will be little more than scraps.”
“Lord Kalydor would never allow this!” Father must be mistaken, Lord Kalydor always spoke of his duty towards Kenosia’s people.
“Indeed, he would not,” The words were slow, pained, “But Lord Kalydor is only a Steward, he holds exactly the power that the rest of Kenosia’s nobles allow him to wield. No more.” His eyes darted towards the window overlooking the courtyard, but saw nothing but the rain. “Listen to me Arios, our city’s keepers did not seriously entertain the Kyrithon threat. Yesterday has changed all of that. They now fear the possibility of an uprising. They are not handling this fear admirably.”
“But they are playing right in to the Kyrithon’s hands!” It was obvious, even to him, why were they being so foolish?
“As I said, they are not handling it well. They fear that allowing the people to congregate will lead to more violence. For the time being they are willing to sacrifice our wellbeing if it keeps us from voicing our grievances as one.”
“This is what the Kyrithon said would happen!” They couldn’t be right. Not about his city, not about Kenosia. It was almost too much to bear. They were the savages, the heretics.
“I know…” His father looked defeated, “But you cannot give up Arios, Lord Kalydor is a good man. He continues to fight for his people. And when Lord Pyragos awakens, he will set things right. He is Lord Kalydor’s greatest ally.”
Arios’s stomach turned into knots. He had scarcely thought of Pyragos, grievously wounded while rescuing him. And now the whole city would suffer at the hand of his failures. The cowardly nobles wouldn’t dare such a scheme if he was well.
“Is he like to wake?”
“The healers say it is not a question of if but when.” — his father drank deeply — “We must pray that is soon.”
Relief. He would be well, he must be.
“What of the King, Father? Surely, he must be fast approaching?”
“We have received no word…”
The words cut like a knife.
“It has been weeks. He would not abandon us, would he?”
“Kenosia is the gate to the crownlands. We are too important to be left to fend for ourselves. The Kyrithon are likely doing all they can to stop any of King Thalorian’s messengers from breaking through their lines and reaching the city. They want us to feel alone.”
Father took one last gulp of his wine and then stood.
“I must rest. I will soon be needed in the Low Ward.” He paused, “Our conversation has been bleak but do not be dismayed. There are still many in the city who will fight for her. We are not broken. The people of Kenosia will rise to meet this adversity.”
He took Arios into a warm embrace, “I love you, my son. Tell your sister that no one is to leave our home without me. It will be too dangerous for now.”
Then he disappeared down the hall to his bed, leaving Arios alone, hopeless, listening to the pounding rain.