“Ivel’s gone!” Nyra cried out. “I can’t find him anywhere!”
Chapter 8 — Dissent into Discord. Mark of the Shadow — Book 1 of the Phantom Lord Saga
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Revilo couldn’t pinpoint the moment he had drifted off to sleep, but he awoke with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest, when a piercing scream echoed in the early morning air, shattering the fragile peace that had settled over the camp. Near tears, Nyra paced frantically around the campsite, her hands trembling.
“Ivel’s gone!” she cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t find him anywhere!”
Revilo sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and struggling to process the situation. His eyes drifted to Ned. The Champion stood vigilant, clutching the menacing axe intended for Ivel’s head. A fierce glint illuminated his weary eyes, and his matted beard and red tattered cloak only served to amplify his imposing presence.
“What do you mean he’s gone?” asked Ned, his tone urgent.
“He must have left during the night,” said Nyra, wringing her hands in distress. “We need all four of us to defeat the Phantom Lord! Without Ivel, our chances are slim. No, worse than slim—they’re nonexistent!”
Ned approached Nyra, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Take it easy, Nyra. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“Perhaps he wandered off looking for something to eat?” Revilo suggested, his own stomach growling at the thought. “Weren’t you supposed to be keeping watch?”
“Assigning blame won’t get us any closer to finding Ivel,” Ned said, casting a particularly sharp glance in his direction.
Revilo let out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s split up. Ivel’s massive. He shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”
“Split up? That would only risk us getting even more separated,” Ned said.
“Fine, then what do you propose, oh wise champion?” Revilo snapped, his temper flaring.
Revilo grinned as a flash of anger ignited in Ned’s eyes, but his satisfaction was short-lived. The memory of Ned besting him during the feast still lingered, as did the knowledge that the champion now possessed his blade—the only keepsake he had of Adeline. His breath caught in his throat. Adeline... Her name echoed in his mind as he grappled with the possibility that she might be dead. No, I can’t think like that. She’s fine. She has to be fine. Yet the words felt hollow. He whispered a prayer to Inari on her behalf, fervently wishing and hoping she was still alive.
“We stay together and search systematically,” said Ned. “We can’t cover as much ground that way, but at least we won’t get lost.”
Revilo nodded reluctantly, unable to shake off the frustration gnawing at him. On the one hand, he was grateful to be alive after the harrowing events that had unfolded. The near-death experience sent chills down his spine, making him appreciate the fragile nature of his existence. But to be pulled into this quest against his will? To be named a chosen by the Court Mage, only for the man to die before he could explain what that entailed or why. The weight of this unexpected burden pressed heavily on his shoulders, heightening his sense of helplessness and despair. It was all too much to handle, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead only deepened his anxiety. Perhaps Ivel had the right idea. Maybe he should leave too? Return to Quilendell and search for Adeline.
Revilo glanced at his companions: the young mage wringing her hands, the ancient otter coiled around her neck, and the fierce champion standing tall and resolute. And Ivel, wherever he was— lost in this forsaken forest, or maybe he hadn’t abandoned them all. Maybe he was just lost.
He shook his head; he couldn’t abandon them. Not yet. Chosen or not, their destination was Inkholme — the land of his forefathers and the very place Adeline would go if she escaped Quilendell alive. Besides, he had far better odds of making it there alive in a group. Still, the lingering thought of Adeline alone and in danger made Revilo’s skin crawl. He wanted to scream out his frustrations; instead, he searched for Ivel.
Branches whipped at his clothes and face as he moved quickly between the trees. Every rustle, every distant sound had his heart pounding harder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ned closing in on him, his expression tense but controlled.
“We need to talk,” Ned said, his voice low but firm.
Revilo turned to face him. “Now?”
Revilo watched intently as Ned reached beneath his tattered cloak and retrieved the ceremonial blade—the very one the champion had taken from him during the feast. The cold steel glinted faintly in the dim light. Revilo instinctively reached for it, but Ned swiftly pulled it away from his grasp.
“Where did you get this blade?” Ned asked.
Revilo’s breath hitched. He couldn’t bear the thought of Adeline getting into trouble, particularly on his account. She shouldn’t have gifted him the blade; it belonged to the ambassador and the people of Inkholme, a peace offering from King Richard.
“What’s it matter to you?” Revilo said, avoiding Ned’s piercing gaze.
“A blade like this was used to kill my friend,” Ned said, his voice suddenly hard, his eyes boring into Revilo’s. “I need to know where you got it.”
Revilo’s temper flared. “Are you accusing me of something, Ned? We’ve got bigger problems right now than a damn blade!”
Ned’s eyes hardened. “Accusing you? Even the village idiot could wield this blade better than you! I know it wasn’t you; you don’t have the skills or the intelligence to pull this off. Which brings me back to my question: where did you get the damn blade?”
Revilo exhaled deeply and averted his gaze. He hadn’t told anyone the truth about Adeline and her plans to free him. A plan that he had always staunchly refused. He wanted to earn his freedom, not steal it. Not that any of that matters any more. Still, he couldn’t betray her, not even if she was dead. If Ned’s words held any truth, and Adeline had a role in the former champion’s demise, it would only heighten the tension between the two kingdoms should Ned discover the truth.
“I can’t,” Revilo said. “I promised to keep it a secret.”
“You must,” Ned insisted.
“What does it matter now?” Nyra interjected. “Caius is dead, and finding his killer won’t bring him back.”
Revilo nodded in agreement. “Just give it back to me, and let’s put this whole business behind us.”
Ned’s face darkened with anger. “Put this behind us? Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” he yelled, his voice echoing through the forest. “That blade is directly connected to my friend’s death, and you expect me to just let it go? How can you be so dismissive? We need answers, not secrecy, especially now when we’re facing the Phantom Lord. Every piece of information matters! Caius’s death was no accident. Someone wanted him out of the way. Someone was sowing confusion and supporting last night’s attack.”
“You mean just like your grand plot to overthrow the king?” Revilo said.
Ned gritted his teeth. “Tell me, or I’ll make you tell me,” he said, his voice ice cold.
Revilo took a step back, his heart racing. “Ned, I understand your frustration, but this blade had nothing to do with Caius’ death. And I promised—“
“A promise to whom?” Ned interrupted, his gaze unwavering. “The same person who might be connected to Caius’s death? If there’s something you know that could help us, you have to tell me! For Caius, for the mission, and for the sake of everyone involved.”
Nyra placed a gentle hand on Ned’s arm, trying to calm him down. “Revilo, please,” she pleaded. “We all need to trust each other now more than ever. If there’s something that you know that could help us understand what we’re up against, Ned’s right, we need to know.”
Revilo stared at Nyra and Ned, feeling torn. Perhaps Nyra was right, what harm could it really do, and yet he didn’t want to betray Adeline’s trust either. She had helped him when no one else would, and he owed her his loyalty.
“Listen,” Ned said. “You’re right; the blade may have nothing to do with Caius’s death, but I have to follow this lead. It’s all I have.”
Revilo stared into Ned’s eyes. What he had initially perceived as wildness was, in truth, the champion’s desperate attempt to comprehend what had happened to his friend. Revilo reflected on how Ned must be feeling, sharing his anxiety.
“I will reveal it to you, but only if you return the blade to me and swear by Inari that you will not harm her.”
Revilo noticed the tension and frustration etched on Ned’s face. With a tight jaw, Ned nodded and said, “Fine. I swear by the light of Inari and my sacred oath as Champion of Quilendell, I will not harm your friend. But you must tell me everything you know.”
Revilo took a deep breath and looked at Nyra, who gave him a small encouraging nod.
“Fine,” Revilo said, handing over the blade to Ned. “The blade was given to me by the Ambassador of Inkhome. It was a gift from King Richard to her people, she gifted it to me as a token of gratitude.”
Ned raised an eyebrow. “The Ambassador of Inkholme? Why would she give this to you?”
Revilo paused mid-step, rubbing his arms uncomfortably as a chill ran down his spine. The last thing he wanted was to admit to Ned that he had been in a relationship with Adeline. Memories of their time together flashed through his mind, each one more vivid than the last. It wasn’t something Ned needed to know, right? Besides, he doubted Ned would understand the complexity of their connection, or why it had ended the way it did.
“Adeline was negotiating my release from the King’s service,” Revilo explained. “Regrettably, his majesty refused to let me go. She gave it to me as a symbol of hope for my future freedom.”
Revilo scrutinized Ned’s face, searching for any telltale signs of disbelief. He was telling the truth, but Revilo wasn’t revealing the whole story. Did the slight twitch in his eye or the brief hesitation in his voice betray him? Could Ned discern the truth from the lie, or was he too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice?
“I suppose the King could have put her up to it,” Ned said. “But it doesn’t make sense, why would the King entrust his enemy with an assassination attempt. Unless she was playing both sides?” Ned paused, his musing continuing but in a manner that Revilo couldn’t understand. “Did she tell you anything else about the blade?
“Only that she received it as a gift from the king,” Revilo said.
“Yes!” Ned exclaimed. “Perhaps, King Richard had Caius killed and gave the blade to Adeline to frame Inkholme. It’s a brilliant scheme. Had he managed to prove it, he could have turned the entire Kingdom against Inkholme and forced them into battle! Inkholme wouldn’t have stood a chance against the united might of Elyora—all he needed was an excuse! But that still doesn’t explain why he was sitting on the information. What was he waiting for? And I still can’t determine who he hired to kill Caius.”
“That has to be the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard,” Revilo said, shaking his head. “King Richard is a noble king and good man. He would not have killed the man he appointed as Champion. Not everything is a grand conspiracy. Sometimes things just happen.”
“Things. Just. Happened?” Ned scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? Why do you continue to defend that tyrant? He murdered your family, Caius, and only Inari knows how many others. He has caused nothing but pain and suffering for this Kingdom since he took the throne, and I will not rest until I have justice!”
Nyra placed a hand on Ned’s shoulder, her eyes filled with concern. “Ned, please calm down,” she said softly. “We all feel your pain and frustration, but we need to focus on stopping the Phantom Lord.”
Revilo clenched his fists, feeling the blood rush to his face. “The King was right to kill my parents. They were traitors to the crown!” he snapped. “You walk around with Havashal like you’re some sort of hero, but we all know you didn’t earn that blade. The King only chose you because there was no one else, and considering how you turned on him I’m sure he regrets even doing that!”
Ned took a step closer, his voice dangerous. “No wonder you’re still serving that madman! Can you even hear yourself?”
Revilo took a deep breath, feeling his heart racing. He knew he was going too far, but the words kept pouring out of him before he could stop them. “You’re just jealous and bitter because you can’t see past your own delusion. You think you’re some great champion, but in reality, you’re nothing more than a puppet dancing to someone else’s tune!”
Nyra stepped between them, her eyes ablaze with a fiery light. “That’s enough!” she shouted, clapping her hands together sending a powerful force of wind between them knocking Revilo and Ned to the ground.
The two men stared at the small mage between them, wide eyed and awed by the powerful display.
“We don’t have time for this senseless—“ She broke off suddenly mid-sentence, an unusual sound ahead capturing their attention.
“What is that?” Revilo asked, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.
“You two, stay here,” Ned said, rising as well while keeping a wary distance from Nyra. “I’ll go check it out.”
“Give me my blade and I’ll go with you,” Revilo said.
“Did you remember what happened last time you held the blade?” Ned said. “You need more training.”
“And who’s going to train me? You?” Revilo scoffed. “Just hand it over. You swore an oath, didn’t you? Or was that as empty as your loyalty to the king?”
“Uh, guys?” Nyra said, gesturing around them.
Revilo glanced around, just realizing that they were no longer alone. Emerging from the shadows were scavs, the greenish-tan creatures with sharp claws and teeth. The scavs moved with a predatory grace. Their forms were much smaller than them, but still muscular, and ready to pounce.
“We should fight!” Revilo whispered loudly.
“No, you idiot,” Ned said. “There’s too many. Nyra, can you do anything?”
“I... uh... I....,” Nyra said, her eyes darting around nervously.
Revilo watched as Ned shook his head. “Just Let me handle this.”
Ned tossed his weapons to the ground, along with Revilo’s dagger.
“Wait!” Revilo shouted.
Ned shot him a look that silenced him. “We surrender!”
“What are you doing?” Revilo asked in shock.
“Saving our lives,” Ned said.
“We surrender!” Ned shouted again, his tone more confident than before.
One of the taller scavs stepped forward. Revilo couldn’t determine if it was a boy or a girl, but he suspected it might be a girl. With a high-pitched, gravelly voice that exuded authority, she commanded, “Take them to the Might One!”
Revilo cursed under his breath as scaly hands shoved him to the ground, binding his wrists tightly. Their reckless pursuit had not only yielded nothing but also led them directly into a trap. Dragged deeper into the forest, Revilo exchanged a pained glance with Nyra and Ned. The search for Ivel was now secondary; they had more immediate problems.
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