Chapter 3

"Once a garden of beds and beds of blood roses, now a scarlet grave where the innocent were slaughtered to the wrath of dragons;

How was it that the beasts chose to slay only those who refused to bend their necks to the demanding yokes of the prejudicial law?"

~

The Town-square of Hazenvale,

Kingdom of Tristendyre,

Night without moon,

The first Thursnight of the Second month,

XXI Year of Regency

It had been eventide that dreadful day, months ago, when Jehu had cast a glance at the stone table of the town-square to see a grim vision of a man who looked quenched, tied to the Pillory and faint. The tall man standing by was inevitably the figure of Jaycob Oreius, meaning threat to the sorry state of the prisoner.

A sharp edge knifed his senses, cold sweat and tremors when he had recognised the face of the man tied to the pillory to be his own. Michavel, his trusted friend, had been by his side to lend a hand of support, for the vision had challenged his strength.

Jehu could not help reminiscing those moments, for that had been during the tenor of his carrier as a secret writer, when he was granted to see a glimpse of its end. A lone tear ran down his face.

The cold and howling winds of the night tried his sinew. He stared down at the stone table upon which he was tied. How had his spell cast on the pillory not worked to its effect?

The pain of his back and neck growing with every passing minute, Jehu could only hope death would embrace him sooner. But that was a greedy thing to ask for. Further, it was lack of gratitude, since a criminal as himself, on the pillory, would not have lasted as long.

Those sentenced to this sort of punishment depended on the mercy of passersby to be fed, for their hands and necks were arrested. The generous would feed them or offer them a cloak, but his case had been different.

The people were aware that his offense was disputed of with the government and had stayed any help from their end, lest they be held guilty, prejudicially, for crimes they never made. Fright overpowered charity.

It was all but the young and innocent girl that made her daily visits to the town square and bestowed her kindness upon him by sustaining him with victuals.

Her innocence, however, had reached the point of her not knowing that he was her brother. He had preferred to keep it so, for it would be burdensome if she'd found out.

Jehu couldn't help the smile that touched a side of his lips, at the reminiscence of this little lady, Imogen. Her parents, the Zebulyns, had taken him in long before they had had her, despite the curse that he was. He had been a young lad of three years, fated to bring misfortune, lost in a dark world and their kindness had given him the blessing of being a son.

About six years after his adoption, Imogen was born like she was the gift of long years of prayer. It had been agonising how their parents had been sacrificed in the injustice of the ruling power. A narrow salvage that he had escaped; his little sister in his arms, Jehu had been only eleven when he was destitute yet again, except this time, he had a little being he was going to protect.

The elderly lady, who had taken them in, could not afford keeping them and thus, had given little Imogen into the care of the castle. With the various departments therein, she had found a home: in the arms of the royal Physician, as her helping hand.

Jehu had always paid anonymous visits to his sister to ensure her safety, and had sometimes even talked to her as a friend. Withholding from her of their relationship was needful, for he knew his hands would be led to capital consequences for their deeds someday.

Being fully informed of the wicked works of the government, that had claimed their parents, if revenge by deeds was something he was forbidden to do, he would prevent further victims by exposing the truth to the world that needed it.

In his crusade, he expected execution; but he would never live through having to behold his dear sister face such chastisement. It was a worthy decision to evade any showcase of affiliation with her, but he had always ensured her safety from a cautious distance.

Now, placed where he had anticipated he would be, there was only the postponement of his execution that was out of order, for then, he could not discern how the arrival of the dragons could be so arranged.

The night before his death, however, had been reached and there was one thing he wished he did not have to endure: seeing his sister bringing him bread for the night.

And yet, there came she.

It was lovely, however, seeing her tread down the stone floor: dainty feet hiding with each step beneath her longish cream-coloured satin skirts, sheer lacy aprons draped over, her soft grip holding gathers thereof, a large boat-shaped basket with its braided handle hung over her arm, ruffles of soft fabric forming her sleeve, a simple satin bodice and a shawl over her shoulders. Mild freckles painted her nose, blue and green the colours of her mismated eyes and hair the colour of Rengaulian dragons' flames.

The orange thereof darkened to auburn, glowing with the touch of the light from each lamppost she crossed, her shadow dancing, fading in and out, to the spirit of the fires' light.

She was a beautiful thing and believing how far she'd grown was only inconceivable. The two decades added to her age had done none but favours to her countenance and soul, for she was a bringer of heart to one's duskiest moments.

Leaving her alone in this dark world made him feel a large weight of uncertain sorrow unsettle within, causing him to question all his life's choices that had added up to his position. As the prospect of inevitable death loomed over him, Jehu heaved a heavy sigh.

He had, still so, foreseen that he truly would be led to the pillory, but that had been far into the chase of his mission. The dark haired man could never forget the vision that had been a grave blow, although there was not much that could be done thereforth. A few months after the sight, he was seized.

Even so, in the three weeks of his punishment, he had not once had a visitation from Jaycob, whom he had seen beside him. And this, the last night, he did not doubt the terrible man would come.

Despite the hallucinations of his visions, at present hour, the red-haired young lady that approached him truly was of reality, as much as the pleasantness of the smile written over her rosy lips.

A blade of melancholy stabbed his beating heart when he gauged: her smile was only pretence to curtain her true sorrow, for the mirth thereof did not reach her eyes.

"I apologise for my tardiness, it has been a long day", she said, dimples showing upon her cheeks.

"You needn't apologise, I am greatly indebted to you", said Jehu, causing Imogen to beam.

It was, however, prominent that she was downcast and he wondered: if she would feel so terribly for a friend, what would she have done if she knew he was her brother? And far worse, if she came to know that he would be put to death the following day.

In her open basket was spread a linen kerchief upon which were placed bread and a little pot of stew with wooden spoons. Ladling each to quench his thirst, she proceeded to talk to him about her day and he watched, feeling all the burdens that were laden on him flee as she spoke incessantly.

Ironic, how they had grown so close during the last few days that were granted to him. Each of her visits had only been a weight added to his conscience. He wasn't keeping his promises to protect her.

"When will they release you?", came her juvenile voice, whisking him out of his thoughts that had almost commenced a journey into the past.

"Soon", he lied, with a smile. Of course she did not know that he was to be foredone the coming dawn.

"I do hope they don't torment you so much longer. I would love for you to meet Maeve and Fauve. I will ensure they are on their finest demeanour when you see them. They mew so very quietly and are shy of company, but I scarcely doubt you would have trouble warming up to them", she went on and Jehu nodded, praying within for her comfort if she was to be faced with the news of his brutal demise.

"And of course, Noctyn will be thrilled to see you, but he has been losing a part of his vision in recent times", said she, in reference to her pet bird. "But he has grown quite in wingspan and stature."

"I see", the long-haired man breathed, with a smile. An odd scent tickled his senses and he glanced at the lampposts. The aroma that the candles in the heart of each lamp exhaled, this night, was growing stronger as they burned.

"I think I toiled far beyond my might should grant, I'm tired", she smiled sleepily and Jehu turned his attention to her with a smile.

"You must rest-", he said, before he was interrupted.

"Gen, mustn't you leave to the castle dorm? It is dangerous to linger around in the dark outside", said a half-muffled voice, as Jaycob approached from behind her.

Sharp feelings of hatred began to unbind within, as Jehu watched the man whose face was masked step up the few stone stairs that led to the pillory. "Of course, I will be heading there soon", informed his sister, with a pleasant voice, before she bid her brother goodbye and a good night.

The men watched as the maiden collected her belongings and walked her way beyond eyeshot, into the uneasy darkness of the night.

Jaycob turned with half a smirk hanging at a side of his mouth, but that was barely visible beneath his scarf. "Nathan..." he said, closing the distance between them.

Jehu had despised the man, largely, since one of his greatest suspicions had been that Jaycob, may have been the one to inform the regents that he was the author behind the words raised against them, despite the friendship they had shared in their youth; ever the deceiver, living up to his name.

With the olive-haired traitor being the Royal Archer of the Castle, Jehu should have expected his faithful service to the men that manipulated the crown.

"What brings your presence here?" He hissed, glaring at the archer whose scarf reached his nose.

"I thought it was a pleasant evening to inform you that robbery has only been evenly continuous despite your apprehension", said the masked man.

Jehu spat a bitter chuckle.

"The candour is appreciated", said he, averting his eyes, though he completely understood the intention behind the information imparted. "Is this the cause for your visitation?"

"I dare say your oblivion is trying. The people are aware, and haven't breathed a contention against the matter", said Sir Jaycob, quirking a brow.

It was a mention worth consideration. Those for whom the death sentence was earned chose disinclination at the face of obvious truth.

"Have you any more left to be said?" asked Jehu, casting aside the situation posed.

"Why did your choice elect to go against the crown?"

"–the State", a brow rose.

"Pardon me, why did you commence to write against the State?" Jaycob folded to the correction.

"Why are you concerned?"

"Death may be awaiting you this coming dawn. Must you adopt such spite at this hour?" the Archer asserted.

A deep sigh was exhaled before Jehu continued, "What of my choices presents you a bother? I was not faced with your regards when my earlier death sentence was announced, a fortnight heretofore."

"I was aware your execution would be deferred. The affairs of the State are not as calm as they appear to a peasant's eye", said the man whose countenance was concealed.

"And what conflicts called my death to await two weeks?" asked Jehu.

"It is far superior to your concerns."

Jehu replied with silence.

Jaycob tapped his foot against the floor, as if inspecting. "It appears the stone has mildly corroded since the day you were led here", he said, receiving no response.

An ill air of silent contempt grew between them.

"Rivenhove, if I may entertain you?" asked the man, holding out a casket of dark substance that emitted a strong scent and Jehu recoiled, though in vain, for it was too late.

The delirium that it caused muted his senses and he was lost in the deluge of a dreamless slumber.

~