Prologue
“Shit!”
Zeke scrambled down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. He danced around soldiers, maids, and servants while barely managing to stay on his own feet. Once he reached a clear hallway, he sprinted as fast as he could. When the large dark doors finally loomed over him he paused and took a deep breath. He needed to slow his heartbeat and catch his breath. It wouldn’t do to go in there as out of breath and jittery as he was.
The doors swung open and any hope Zeke had of appearing somewhat presentable flew out the window.
General Vatain glared down at him. The General was an incredibly tall man with a large scar that covered half his face and even went further up and around his bald head. It made Zeke wonder if the baldness was a choice or if hair no longer grew there. By guess, Zeke would say the scar was a burn, but he didn’t dare ask. General Vatain narrowed his eyes and motioned for Zeke to follow him with a jerk of his head.
Wordlessly, Zeke shuffled behind the man. He tried to ignore the other guards that trailed behind them, but was failing miserably so he hung his head and kept his eyes on his feet. It wouldn’t do to look too much at his surroundings anyway. He did not want to appear too curious, not if the rumors were to be believed.
The rumors. Zeke fought back an involuntary shudder, but the tremble in his hands stayed. He was terrified. True, he was only a messenger but many ill fates awaited messengers. Especially here.
It didn’t take long for the General to stop walking, causing Zeke to stumble over himself to keep from bumping into the intimidating man. Once the General stepped aside Zeke had to fight to keep his gaze down. He lowered himself at the waist in a deep bow and held it.
“So, you are the messenger?” The king’s voice was deeper than any he had ever heard. It boomed loudly in the room and even seemed to vibrate through the floor and into Zeke’s worn boots. Zeke’s already shaking knees rattled even more.
There was no hiding his terror now. “Y-yes, Sire.” Even his voice shook like a frightened child’s. Zeke nervously licked at his suddenly chapped lips.
“What is this message you had to deliver so hastily and in person?”
With trembling hands, Zeke reached into his satchel and pulled out a scroll. He wordlessly handed it to the nearest guard, who handed it to another. The scroll passed through at least five more hands before it reached its intended recipient. Zeke squeezed his eyes shut as the man read the message. He was terrified.
He’d heard rumors of this man; King Darius Treescar. He was a warlord king and a ruthless one. He ruled the lands of Peyroa with fear and blood. There was no other way to rule this land truth be told. It had been war-torn with many clans fighting for power until King Darius’ reign. It wasn’t until Treescar sat on the throne that the country found some sort of stability, and it couldn’t have been achieved without a high amount of bloodshed.
According to the rumors, the King was not above killing the messenger, which was why Zeke was so terrified. There was no doubt in his mind the King would not be pleased with the message. Zeke was prepared though. He volunteered for the assignment knowing this. He was the only one among his fellow messengers with no family ties and no one depending on him. He was expendable. He could not ask his fellow messengers to sacrifice themselves when they had children, spouses, or parents waiting for them. He had no one.
The hall shook with an unexpected sound. It took everything Zeke had not to peek at the now laughing Warlord. “Tell me, messenger,” the warlord was having a time getting his laughter under control it seemed, “how long ago did you receive this message?”
“Three days ago, Sire” he spoke as clearly as he could.
“You came from the Galyent province?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Hmmm…” there was an unnatural silence as the King took in this information. Zeke felt a sheen of sweat bead on his forehead. He could feel the man’s eyes boring into the top of his head. “Stand up straight, messenger.”
Zeke did as instructed but kept his eyes lowered. There was a pause and silence reigned in the throne room. Zeke was almost sure everyone was holding their breath, because he sure was. Zeke began to wonder in the silence if the King was waiting for him to lift his gaze, but quickly talked himself out of it. So many of the clan leaders found it insulting when a messenger gazed at them for too long. It was safer to just keep your gaze lowered.
“How old are you, boy?”
Zeke swallowed the nervous lump building in his throat. “17.”
“You rode a horse?”
Zeke nodded. “Yes, Sire.”
“You made good time.” There was a note of approval in the king’s tone and Zeke found his body relax slightly. “You delivered this message faster than others could, knowing full well the contents and its consequences.”
Zeke nodded again, noting with a sense of relief how impressed the king sounded, but that fear continued to nag at the back of his mind. It’s what kept him from looking up. “The message was more important than my life,” he answered honestly.
Once again, the king laughed. It made every fiber of Zeke’s being vibrate.
“I like you, boy!” the king shouted, sounding most jovial.
Could it be that he’d be spared?! Was the king so impressed?
“General!”
General Vatain stepped next to the messenger with a half bow. “My King?”
“Give this boy a proper meal,” the order stunned Zeke, but Zeke felt a new wave of relief wash over him as the General nodded. “Be thankful, boy. You have been granted something many here do not…” There was a foreboding pause and Zeke felt his body start to tremble again at the King’s tone. “...a last meal.”
Zeke nearly choked on his own spit as all hope drained from him. He felt his stomach churn in a way he never had before. He was really going to die. The edges of his vision darkened ever so slightly as the world began to tilt.
The King boomed with laughter again. Even the General chortled next to him.
“Wipe that look of terror off your face, boy!” the King guffawed. “If we killed every messenger who brought us bad news, we would never receive news!”
With a firm grip on his shoulder, General Vatain turned Zeke around and led him stumbling out of the throne room. Zeke glanced nervously at the General as the doors banged closed behind them.
“D-Does that mean…?” Zeke was almost too terrified to ask about his confusion. His skin felt clammy and strangely cold as nervous sweat dripped down his hairline.
The General snorted. “King Treescar was screwing with you, kid. He has far too many enemies to be concerned with taking a mere messenger’s life.”
Zeke nodded in relief as the General led him through the halls. “But be warned,” the General looked down his nose at the boy, a cold look in his eyes, “many messengers who enter these halls become a target for the King’s enemies.”
Zeke swallowed the lump in his throat. Is that how the rumors began? To be fair, it was never proven that the King killed messengers. All that was known was they rarely made it home. He pushed the thought away for now as the General led him to the kitchen. Once there, the General barked orders at the staff to make a warm meal for him as the King had ordered.
He would have to be ever watchful as he made his way home.
