A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER EIGHT

The attendants threw open the ancient oak doors, and Reece hurried out of the nasty weather, wet from the driving wind and rain of the Upper Isles, and into the dry refuge of Srog’s fort. He was immediately relieved to be dry as the doors slammed behind him, wiping water from his hair and face, and he looked up to see Srog hurrying over to give him a hug.

Reece embraced him back. He had always had a warm spot for this great warrior and leader, this man who had led Silesia so well, who had been loyal to Reece’s father, and even more loyal to his sister. Seeing Srog, with his stiff beard, broad shoulders, and friendly smile, brought back memories of his father, of the old guard.

Srog leaned back and clasped a beefy hand on Reece’s shoulder.

“You resemble your father too much as you grow older,” he said warmly.

Reece smiled.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is indeed,” Srog replied. “There was no finer man. I would have walked through fire for him.”

Srog turned and led Reece through the hall, all of his men falling in behind them as they wound their way through the fort.

“You are a most welcome face to see here in this miserable place,” Srog said. “I am grateful to your sister for sending you.”

“It seems I have chosen a bad day to visit,” Reece said as they passed an open-air window, rain lashing a few feet away.

Srog smirked.

“Every day is a bad day here,” he answered. “Yet it can also change on a dime. They say the Upper Islands experience all four seasons in a single day—and I have come to see that it is true.”

Reece looked outside at a small, empty castle courtyard, populated with a handful of ancient stone buildings, gray, ancient, which looked like they blended into the rain. Few people were outside, and those that were lowered their heads against the wind and hurried from one place to the next. This island seemed to be a lonely and desolate place.

“Where are all the people?” Reece asked.

Srog sighed.

“The Upper Islanders stay indoors. They keep to themselves. They are spread out. This place is not like Silesia, or King’s Court. Here, they live all over the island. They do not congregate in cities. They are an odd, reclusive people. Stubborn and hardened—like the weather.”

Srog led Reece down a corridor and they turned a corner and entered the Great Hall.

In the room sat a dozen of Srog’s men, soldiers with their boots and armor on, glumly sitting around a table near a fire. Dogs slept around the fire, and the men ate hunks of meat and threw the scraps to the dogs. They looked up at Reece and grunted.

Srog led Reece to the fire. Reece rubbed his hands before the flames, grateful for its warmth.

“I know you haven’t much time before your ship departs,” Srog said. “But I at least wanted to send you off with some warmth and dry clothes.”

An attendant approached and handed Reece a set of dry clothes and mail, exactly his size. Reece looked at Srog with surprise and gratitude as he peeled off his wet clothes and replaced them with these.

Srog smiled. “We treat our own well here,” he said. “I figured you’d need it, given this place.”

“Thank you,” Reece said, already feeling much warmer. “I’ve never needed it more.” He had been dreading sailing back in wet clothes, and this was exactly what he’d needed.

Srog began talking politics, a long monologue, and Reece nodded politely, pretending to listen. But deep down, Reece was distracted. He was still overwhelmed with thoughts of Stara, and he could not shake her from his mind. He could not stop thinking of their encounter, and every time he thought of her, his heart fluttered with excitement.

He also could not stop thinking, with dread, of the task that lay ahead of him on the mainland, of telling Selese—and everyone else—that the wedding was off. He did not want to hurt her. But he did not see what choice he had.

“Reece?” Srog repeated.

Reece blinked and looked over at him.

“Did you hear me?” Srog asked.

“I’m sorry,” Reece said. “What was that?”

“I said, I take it your sister has received my dispatches?” Srog asked.

Reece nodded, trying to focus.

“Indeed,” Reece replied. “Which is why she sent me here. She asked me to check in with you, to hear firsthand what was happening.”

Srog sighed, staring into the flames.

“I’ve been here six moons now,” he said, “and I can tell you, the Upper Islanders are not like us. They are MacGils in name only. They lack the qualities of your father. They are not just stubborn—they are not to be trusted. They sabotage the Queen’s ships daily; in fact, they sabotage everything we do here. They don’t want us here. They don’t want any part of the mainland—unless they are invading it, of course. To live in harmony, I have concluded, is just not their way.”

Srog sighed.

“We waste our time here. Your sister should withdraw. Leave them to their own fate.”

Reece nodded, listening, rubbing his hands before the fire, when suddenly, the sun broke free from the clouds, and the dark, wet weather morphed to a clear, shining summer day. A distant horn sounded.

“Your ship!” Srog cried out. “We must go. You must set sail before the weather returns. I will see you off.”

Srog led Reece out a side door in the fort, and Reece was amazed as he squinted in the bright sunlight. It was as if the perfect summer day had returned again.

Reece and Srog walked quickly, side by side, followed by several of Srog’s men, rocks crunching beneath their boots as they navigated the hills and made their way down winding trails toward the distant shore below. They passed gray boulders and rock-lined hills and cliffs peppered with goats that clung to the hillsides and chewed at weeds. As they neared the shore, all around them bells tolled from the water, warning ships of lifting fog.

“I can see firsthand the conditions you are dealing with,” Reece finally said as they walked. “They are not easy. You have held things together here for far longer than others would have, I’m sure. You have done well here. I will be sure to tell the Queen.”

Srog nodded back in appreciation.

“I appreciate your saying that,” he said.

“What is the source of this people’s discontent?” Reece asked. “They are free, after all. We mean them no harm—in fact, we bring them supplies and protection.”

Srog shook his head.

“They will not rest until Tirus is free. They consider it a personal shame on them that their leader is imprisoned.”

“Yet they are lucky he only sits in prison, and has not been executed for his betrayals.”

Srog nodded.

“True. But these people do not understand that.”

“And if we freed him?” Reece asked. “Would that set them at peace?”

Srog shook his head.

“I doubt it. I believe that would only embolden them for some other discontent.”

“Then what is to be done?” Reece asked.

Srog sighed.

“Abandon this place,” he said. “And as quickly as possible. I don’t like what I see. I sense a revolt stirring.”

“Yet we vastly outnumber them in men and ships.”

Srog shook his head.

“That is all but an illusion,” he said. “They are well organized. We are on their ground. They have a million subtle ways of sabotage we cannot anticipate. We are sitting here in a den of snakes.”

“Not Matus, though,” Reece said.

“True,” Srog replied. “But he is the only one.”

There is one other, Reece thought. Stara. But he kept his thoughts close to himself. Hearing all of this made him want to rescue Stara, to take her out of this place as quickly as possible. He vowed that he would. But first he needed to sail back and settle his affairs. Then he could return for her.

As they stepped onto the sand, Reece looked up and saw the ship before him, his men waiting.

He stopped before it, and Srog turned to him and clasped his shoulder warmly.

“I will share all of this with Gwendolyn,” Reece said. “I will tell her your concerns. Yet I know she is determined with these isles. She views them as part of a greater strategy for the Ring. For now, at least, you must keep harmony here. Whatever it takes. What do you need? More ships? More men?”

Srog shook his head.

“All the men and ships in the world will not change these Upper Islanders. The only thing that will is the edge of the sword.”

Reece looked back, horrified.

“Gwendolyn would never slaughter innocents,” Reece said.

“I know that,” Srog replied. “Which is why, I suspect, many of our men will die.”