Yael and Gideon's fellow townsfolk were found about five miles from Crystallinus. A man with a bushy mop of red hair fumbled his firewood upon recognizing them, then dropped the whole load at his feet and hurried toward their wagon. Nightwind came to a stop with Cedric's gentle pull of the reins.
"You survived," marveled the redheaded man as Gideon helped his mother disembark.
Yael turned her head. "Lawrence, is that you?"
"The very same." Lawrence enclosed her hand in both of his. "I'd have sworn you were done for. After you wouldn't leave with us…"
"I'd have sent Gideon with you, but he has his father's stubbornness."
"Not just his father's, Eris bless him."
Yael conceded with a small, chagrined laugh. "We owe our lives to them." She gestured behind her. "Cedric and Adrian were kind enough to escort us here."
Lawrence greeted them with a nod. His blue-gray eyes were clear and bright. "Well met, lads. I thank you greatly for taking two of ours under your wing." He craned his neck to look behind them and raised his eyebrows. "Make that three. Candra, is that you?"
She raised a hand from her perch at the back of the wagon. "Morning, Lawrence."
"So you had a change of heart too, eh?" He grinned at Adrian and Cedric. "Or were you simply waiting for younger, more strapping escorts to turn up?"
"You never were much to look at," Candra smirked. "But no, these lads managed to talk some sense into me."
"Miracle workers, too. You'll all be joining us for lunch?"
"Thank you, sir," Cedric said. "But we're on an urgent--"
Lawrence shook his head. "You've brought three of my townsfolk back to me. A bit of food and company are the least I can offer in return. For the sake of my honor, if nothing else."
"I…"
"Just a few hours," Adrian muttered beside him. "We can spare that."
Cedric considered the ever-growing city in the distance, and suddenly found the idea of further proximity to it distinctly unappealing. Alternatively, the prospect of sharing a meal with grateful friends seemed about the most inviting prospect he could imagine. He met Adrian's eyes; ever since the previous night, even this little acknowledgment between them set his heart fluttering. Cedric smiled despite himself, then nodded to Lawrence. "Then we gladly accept."
The man's eyes glittered as he clapped his broad hands together. "Our encampment lies this way. Come along, lads."
*
They sat in a circular clearing surrounded by carts and improvised shelters, at the center of which lay a ring of stones and the charred remains of last night's fire. Strips of dried meat and fruit were passed among the group, followed by hard biscuits and chunks of old cheese.
Lawrence sat between his young son and daughter, both of whom sported matching heads of bright red hair. They chewed gravely, their bright eyes fixated on the precious bounty in their hands.
"Obviously this isn't all of Borne," Lawrence was saying. He wrapped his arm around his daughter and pulled her close. "Most took their chances in the nearby towns."
"What of Lord Breshin?" Candra asked.
Lawrence indicated the gleaming city in the distance. "He promised to invoke the Right of Sanctuary for us."
"Invoke the what?" Gideon said. He'd already consumed his share, and was twisting his fingers in his lap.
"An old tenet that calls for the Divine Heirs to shelter and provide for their subjects in difficult times."
Candra poorly hid a snort behind her hand. Lawrence frowned. "You doubt the founding principles of our kingdom?"
"A kind way to put it," she said.
Lawrence shook his head. "Regardless, we must wait for Lord Breshin's appeal to reach them."
Cedric doubted that it ever would, but unlike Candra, kept the thought to himself. "How long would that take?" he said instead. His knee was touching Adrian's, and he resisted the sudden, heady urge to pull him closer.
"This is uncharted territory for all of us, Cedric. But I have faith in our Enforcer. Borne was his home, and we are still his charges."
"The only 'charges' he ever paid mind to were the young ones seeking favor in his bed," Candra said.
Lawrence bristled, and Yael and Gideon stiffened.
"Candra," Yael murmured.
"You know I'm right," she said, undeterred. "I'd wager that Breshin's elbow-deep in wine and women at this very moment, sparing little concern for the townsmen rotting away outside the capital's impenetrable walls."
"We don't speak of the Apostles this way," Lawrence snapped. "Clearly, neither solitude nor the long journey has sweetened that caustic tongue of yours."
"You're already regretting my survival, aren't you?"
"Starting to," he said ruefully.
"If you're staking everything on our Enforcer, prepare to call this little stretch of riverbank home." She raised her hands in a deflecting gesture. "At the very least, I warned you."
Lawrence's mouth twisted beneath his beard; as much as Candra's words aggravated him, he couldn't seem to entirely deny their truth.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Is there no other way to gain entry into the city?" Cedric asked, not very hopefully.
"Not that I know of. But further down the river near the bridge, where the encampments are thickest, I hear of nobles from Crystallinus setting up amongst them."
"For what purpose?" Adrian said.
"Something related to King Asha's tournament, no doubt. In celebration of Ascension Day."
Cedric, Adrian, and Candra exchanged brief but significant looks.
Lawrence didn't miss this. "The journey for you three is not quite over, is it?"
"There's but one way anyone's journey ever ends," Candra said. She stood up and dusted off her faded skirts. "But we must be attending to the next leg of it, now."
"I won't ask what you're up to. But be careful, eh?"
"Concern for me doesn't become you." She winked.
Cedric and Adrian thanked Lawrence for the meal and company, then bid farewell to Yael and Gideon. The former surprised them both with a warm embrace.
"Once your business in the capital concludes, you'll stop by?" she said to Cedric. "Let us know you're all right?"
"Of course," he said after a moment of hesitation. "Take care, you two."
He and Adrian boarded the wagon. Candra was already inside, having not bothered with farewells.
"Onward to our destinies," she said brightly as Adrian flicked the reins.
*
The encampments adjacent to the bridge between Hadria's banks and the capital were the densest and most expansive yet: a singular, teeming mass of activity akin to a Faircross market day. The usually tall, thriving grass had been trampled into flat mats. Countless wooden stumps, the last remnants of an extensive forest, dotted the landscape like scattered coins. And the city of Crystallinus loomed above it all like a cold, distant god.
Along the banks of the Hadria, clustered on either side of the bridge, stood a smaller but distinctly grander collection of shelters. These tents were the size of modest homes, adorned with an endless variety of colorful silks. Elegant white watercrafts bobbed in the waters behind them, tethered to shore as their masters' convenient transports back to the docks of the capital.
A few such masters, swamped in richly patterned fabrics and enormous jewels, were seated outside the tents beneath a wide cloth canopy. They looked up from their roasted meats and fresh fruit to watch Cedric and Adrian's passage with mild interest. Conversely, the guards who stood vigil at the borders of these encampments regarded them with cold, flat stares.
Candra crawled forward for a better view, then scoffed. "Of course, they're here to sight-see."
"Those Apostles? Sight-see what?" Cedric said uneasily.
"The unwashed, the hungry, the desperate. To those of Crystallinus, they're akin to exotic animals."
Cedric's lip curled. He looked at Adrian, at the little knot that'd formed between his eyebrows, and knew that he was of the same mind.
"And to think you once wanted nothing more than to be one of them," Cedric said, interlacing his fingers with Adrian's.
His face was grave. "Don't remind me."
"Reclined on silk cushions, gnawing on roast lamb as the little commoners passed you by… "
Adrian bumped Cedric's shoulder in annoyance, but didn't relinquish his hand. "My tastes have been humbled as of late." He glanced back at him. "And I'm still holding you to your promise."
Candra extended an arm between them and pointed. "Up ahead, lovebirds."
A large swath of land in the near distance was clear of shelters and inhabitants, and instead contained five circular arenas bordered by stones. In each arena was a pair engaged in combat, some wielding weapons and some bare-fisted. Onlookers and prospective fighters alike surrounded them, absorbed in the spectacle. Groups of nobles, each attended by one or two guards, were also seated among the enraptured audience.
"What is this?" Adrian said, fascinated.
"Preliminaries," Candra said. "Commoners were always permitted to earn a place in the tournament. Maintains some variety in the competition."
"How often do commoners win?" Cedric asked.
"Not since the Bloodclaw, I believe. The last tournament I attended before the Dark Apostles were purged from the capital. She was younger than most, but fiercer and crueler than anyone."
"Adrian and I can personally attest to that," he said grimly.
Candra reached forward and took the reins from Adrian's hands. "I'll find somewhere to put us," she said, shooing them to either end of the wagon's head and taking a seat. "You two, go take a gander."
"What makes you think we want to?" Adrian objected, though not particularly strongly.
She rolled her eyes. "You're young men. Of course you'd want to watch idiots knocking the daylights out of each other."
Adrian and Cedric shared a look, along with the wordless acknowledgement that Candra was entirely correct. They disembarked the wagon with as much restraint as they could muster.
*
He was muscular and clad in well-worn leathers, twirling a broadsword with the ease that only years of experience could grant. A web of pale scars marred his heavily-browed face. He smirked at his opponent, a younger and visibly less-assured man. The latter wiped his glistening forehead with his sword arm, then seemed to belatedly realize how foolish he looked.
The larger man suddenly roared and charged forward; his opponent could barely take two steps of his own before they collided with a meaty crash. Deadly metal danced and rang as they traded blows, though it was over far sooner than Cedric would have expected. The smaller man, all semblance of training now forgotten in his naked panic, swung wildly and missed; the larger man twisted away and drove a fist into his exposed side. Neither Cedric nor Adrian could suppress a groan, along with the rest of the spectators, as the smaller man crumpled to the ground with a whimper.
The victor loomed over his downed opponent, relished in the sight of him, and raised his sword for the killing blow.
"Eris' mercy!" squeaked the defeated one, his hands aloft in surrender.
The man's face twisted as he slowly lowered his weapon. He spat near the smaller man's curled body and stalked out of the arena. The spectators swiftly parted from his path.
"That's a mercenary for you," muttered someone nearby, followed by another's grunt of agreement.
Cedric couldn't deny the rush of giddy excitement that pulsed through his veins. Was there anything in this world more enthralling than a primal contest of skill, nerve, and talent where only one emerged victorious? He looked at Adrian to share his excitement, and was taken aback by the queasy expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" Cedric asked.
Adrian swallowed. "Just then, I thought I was going to witness a beheading." He shivered a little. "If he hadn't surrendered in time…"
Cedric surveyed the other ongoing matches, and found one featuring bare-fisted contenders. "Over there," he said, and led Adrian by the arm to a hopefully less gruesome showing.
One of the unarmed fighters was a woman with high cheekbones, wide-set eyes, and glossy skin as black as midnight. Her hair was braided tightly in elaborate patterns across her scalp, and she wore dark, lightweight armor accentuated by a bright red sash across her chest. Her movements were lithe and graceful; she prowled on the balls of her feet, clawed hands raised in a fighting stance.
Her challenger was her complete opposite: fair-haired, even fairer-skinned, sturdy and strong, clad in animal furs. He matched her movement along the inner bounds of the arena, though his own steps fell heavy and assured. He winked and ran his tongue leisurely across his top lip. They circled each other, neither moving to attack.
"The far north and the far south, clashing here at the threshold of the capital," Adrian marveled. "All for a chance at a noble title."
Cedric's heart bounded in his ears as the anticipation stretched to unbearable heights. The crowd around them was deadly silent, waiting on bated breath.
The woman made the first move, darting forward like a sand serpent. The man planted his feet and swung at her, hitting air as she leapt to the side and twisted behind him. Quick as lightning, she kicked the back of his right leg. The man fell to that knee with a grunt.
He jabbed an elbow behind him, which glanced off her shoulder and unbalanced her long enough for him to throw his head back and catch her square in the mouth.
She leapt a few steps back, licked once at her split lip, then bared her blood-rimmed teeth in a predatory grin. The man rose to his feet, no longer leering at this clearly formidable opponent.
Cedric never witnessed the rest of the fight, though he'd later learn that the dark woman had won this match. His attention had suddenly been diverted by the sound of his name, uttered by a voice he never thought he'd hear again.
"Cedric?"
Standing beside him was Grace of Methodosia.