Chapter 5: Chapter Five

Gregory swished the ale in his glass. It was his father’s, the best money could buy this side of Normar. The ruddy liquid burned on the way down and he savored the warmth.

Things had changed with Armaila. He missed the days when they were children, when they ran through the woods without a care. Other kids had teased him, calling him rich and spoiled, but not her. She had always been there with a kind word and a smile.

Deep down, Gregory had always known she didn’t love him. He had gotten so good at pretending he didn’t realize he was. She will love me after the wedding, he had told himself, though the thought was mocking now.

His father was in Stonebrook on business, leaving Gregory with the estate to himself. Rising from the chair, he was surprised to find it difficult to walk. He had sampled from his father’s alcohol cabinet before, but never that much at once.

Gregory made his way to the attic on stair at a time, gripping the railing to steady himself. Tonight, he felt like wallowing in self-pity. He had enough reason to.

His mother left when he was three, and out of shame, his father told everyone she died. Even Gregory believed it for a time, until he found a letter half burned and thrown away.

He moved a floorboard and pulled a small chest from it. It contained the charred letter and a necklace his mother had worn—everything else his father had burned, save for a portrait in the parlor. Gregory knew the only reason he had kept that was for public appearance, to play the role of a grieving widower.

The handwriting on the letter was small and elegant and the letters seemed to dance on the page, unfitting for the message it carried.

Dear Josef,

It pains me to leave Gregory, but I must go. There is no life for me here. I have packed my things and by the time you read this I will be in Stonebrook. Do not look for me, I will be gone by then. Our marriage has been hard and I…

The rest of the letter was illegible, smudged and burned off. Gregory turned the necklace over in his hand. It was a large gold pendant with a dragon whose lifeless gaze unsettled him.

His father never spoke of her, and he learned long ago not to ask. He only knew that her name was Dorothea and she had beautiful, long black hair, and that knowledge came from the townspeople and the portrait. Even they seldom dared to speak of her.

Plucking up his courage, Gregory put on a cloak and saddled his horse. The sky grew darker and a north wind blew, unusual for that time of year. A sense of foreboding grew as he neared Greenfields.

He eyed the man he was looking for sitting in the mud outside the Silver Crown tavern. He had been thrown out, and not for the first time.

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“Gael,” Gregory said, extending a hand.

“Thanks,” the man muttered, struggling to his feet.

A large woman shouted at him from inside. “Stay out unless you have coin.” She wiped her hands on her apron, disgusted. Gregory knew her as Miss Tanya, a woman few men would dare fight. She owned the Silver Crown.

“Stupid whore,” Gael said. “Wouldn’t let me have another drink. It’s for my leg, you know.”

“I’ll buy you a drink if you talk to me first,” Gregory said.

That lit up the man’s face. “Come, let’s sit.”

They found a patch of grass beside the tavern. Gael had once travel across the kingdom as a bard, and he had a knack for learning things people usually wanted to keep hidden. Then there was an accident—some said his horse fell on him and some said it was a jealous husband—that rendered his right leg nearly useless. Since then, he had stayed in Greenfields, drinking and telling stories of the good old days.

“What can you tell me about my mother?” Gregory asked.

That brought a frown to Gael’s face. “Your father doesn’t like anyone talking about her.”

“Please,” he said. “I was a boy last time I asked you. I’m a man now.”

The bard studied him with cold, gray eyes. “Dorothea was an ambitious woman,” he said. “Your father was content to stay where he was.”

“Surely there’s more?”

“Your father said she died suddenly in the night and he insisted on doing the funeral preparations himself. We all went along with it, but no one really believed him.” Gael stroked his beard thoughtfully. “They say there was another man.”

Gregory froze. “Another man?”

“He promised her they would rule Erithor together, they say.”

“What do you know about this man?”

Gael shrugged. “Only one person saw him, and that wasn’t me. He was tall and handsome, I heard.”

That was more information than Gregory had ever gotten before. “Who saw him?”

“I don’t know,” the bard admitted. “It’s difficult to keep track of rumors.”

Gregory nodded and handed him a gold coin. “For your leg,” he said.

Gael smiled, revealing yellowed teeth.

“You’re a good boy,” the old bard said. “If you want to know more, find Arlic in Stonebrook. He may have the answers you seek.”

The thought of his mother running off with another man made Gregory sick. He had always imagined her as a kind woman, someone his father had driven away.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” a rider yelled. He was a young boy in dirty clothing with the look of someone who had been on the trail for some time.

“Who’s coming?” Gregory asked, the uneasy feeling in his stomach growing.

The boy reigned in his horse paused to catch his breath. “An army,” he said. “Hundreds of men, all dressed in gray. I saw them over the mountains as I was hunting.”

Dozens of people gathered in the street and nervous murmurs filled the air. “Baron Josef isn’t even here,” a man said.

“Stay calm,” Gregory said, mimicking the voice he had heard his father use on so many occasions. “We can prepare for this.”

The murmurs continued to grow into a roar.

“How long before they arrive?” he asked the boy.

“Tomorrow, if I had to guess. They’re on foot and they haven’t crested the peak yet.”

Gregory nodded. His father had left for business in Stonebrook that morning, and he would not be home by then. “We have work to do. What is your name, boy?”

“Gillan.”

“Gillan, I want you to find a dozen other lads your age and spread the word to everyone living outside the town.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gregory turned to the rest of the people. “I want all of the women to start making food and water provisions. All of you men, come with me.”

The willingness with which people followed surprised Gregory. He instructed half the men to gather weapons, and the other half he took with him to the forest to begin cutting down trees. Using horses, they hauled the logs to the town center and began raising a sturdy, thick wall.

They would be ready for battle.