Lord of the Night

Chapter 34: Decision

The gravity of her plan rendered me speechless. My eyes wandered to the other Guardians. They all carried Demon-Slayer maces, but dirt crusted their tattered clothing, and tiredness etched their faces and slowed their movements. Half of them I recognized from the base, but the other half were not fighters. Farmers, weavers, and healers, some too young and some too old...like my father.

One of the healers approached my father now, uncorked a bottle of medicinal oil, and grabbed his arm. He muttered something as the younger man worked on his arm, but based on the healer's reactions, the words were incomprehensible.

Now that the imminent fear of death had passed, Fraschkit's words from earlier came back to me, and I realized how bizarre they were. My father had watched lightning and thunder tear apart the earth above the base, but he had no way of guessing the other part of his claim.

"How did he know?" I asked Fraschkit. "How could my father have known that Borgal betrayed us?"

She scratched a dirt-crusted eyebrow. "I don't know. He said he foresaw it. Of course, most didn't believe him."

"I don't think I would have believed," I admitted, "If I hadn't seen Borgal's betrayal with my own eyes."

Fraschkit looked at my father too, though her eyes were distant. "I only believed him because...well, I talked to Leader Rakimar right before I left, and she said some strange things. She was worried about having named Borgal as her successor. She wouldn't tell me why exactly, but she told me that if something were to happen to her very soon, it would mean she had trusted the wrong people."

A chill prickled my neck, and I shivered against the chilly breeze. Leader Rakimar and Borgal had sent Fraschkit and me away just before the fight. Could it be that Borgal's fondness for us was not entirely faked—that he, like Isalio, had hoped to spare me from this fate?

But it didn't matter now. Borgal had made his choice, and whatever friendship had existed between us had disappeared. He was as much my enemy as the Queen and King now.

"How much power does Borgal have now?" I asked Faschkit. "How many Guardians still obey him?"

She nodded at the rest of the group, a couple dozen Guardians at best. "These are the only Guardians your father and I were able to persuade. Hundreds are still under Borgal's command. That's why we are so desperate to save the captured Guardians from the barn now. Only with their help can we persuade the rest of the Guardians to join our fight before they are turned into cows."

"But the Guardians they captured aren't in the barn."

She raised an eyebrow, the normally bright red hairs muted by sand and darkness. "They aren't? Then where are they?"

"The General is keeping the Guardians in the dungeon. If you want to free them, you'll have to find a way to get into the palace and go underground."

Fraschkit's dark eyes latched on mine, flickering with unease. "Remgar...what exactly happened to you in the palace?"

The question was innocent—almost. I knew her well enough to sense exactly what she was asking. She wanted badly to trust me, but my answers defied all common sense, and after what Borgal had done, friendship alone was not reason for trust. 'Give me a reason to trust you,' her eyes said. My mouth opened to defend myself from her suspicion, but I couldn't find the words. How to explain the way Isalio had cared for me—protected me? It didn't even make sense to me, and it would sound ludicrous to anyone else.

"If you don't trust me, ask my father," I said. "He doesn't foresee my betrayal, does he?"

"Would he tell us if he did?"