Chapter 5
It had been over ten years since he had stepped onto the soil of the Onor land. The memories of his childhood flooded him as he had expected. The little princess he had tried to forget haunted him more clearly as his band ascended on the dark castle, using the skills he'd learnt from the corridors of the halls he now crept down. His band moved like cats setting each foot expertly on the bricks silently in the night. Their hearts pounded in their ears, there were so close to the justice they so longingly awaited.
He had confided with his best friend, Gareth the night before over the fire as their band slept. Many nights the two spoke and jested confidently about their impending raids but last night Novak shared his trepidation. He did not want to harm the princess from his memories, but he also knew that his people had waited for this day for decades. If only he could do what he had to do and someone else within the band could take their justice with the royal family without him having to gaze upon her. He was afraid that to see the princess would weaken him; to love her meant to betray the plan. He recoiled at the thought of the princess replacing the image of his father, kneeling at the feet of King Anorich, the sword already pressing into his pulsating heart as he begged for his young son's life. He was only ten years old when he'd fought hard against the Onor guards to release him so he could run to his father's side and cry into his father's strong arms that used to wrap around him whenever possible. His father's kind face always welcoming and loving for his son, was now filled with anguish and terror. His father surrendered his life and the lives of his people for Novak.
He was never prepared for the eeriness of the strongest power in the land when they entered the throne room. It was vacant of gentry, no longer did the artists play music within its halls, the company of the prosperous villagers absent in the throne hall, the stone walls were naked of art, hunting trophies and precious silver and gold metals, gems from far off lands were replaced by cold black iron. The king, the man he had detested, who had raised him, sat slumped on his throne. His red elegant robes were the only marker of a once regent time now hung on his bony aged body like drapes. A chalice dangled in his hand, he was drunk, and did not care that his demise had come. The weak man found it humorous to be seated like melted wax against the young warriors. Novak scarcely believed that the king he stood before was the man who had caused so much terro. This drunken, slovenly man sitting on the throne had successfully manipulated his family to give up their kingdom. Novak was now strong and with sword in hand, his father's sword that had been hidden by Gareth's family, he advanced towards the king. The king cackled, "The little whelp has finally returned," and then stood on shaky balance.
Novak sensed a predator standing over him and quickly opened his eyes shifting them around the tent. Splitting pain divided his skull awakening him to the morning. Talyis was standing in the center of the tent watching him like a hawk waiting to swoop down on its venerable prey, her expression determined. In panic, his ears made inventory of his band outside and quickly darted out of the tent.
Did the witch murder his men in their sleep?
Novak alarmed inside.
He burst through the tent and found his men. The sun was inching towards the top of the sky. The men sat around the smoldered fire not really talking, only packing quietly not to disturb their hangovers. They were awaiting their leader to wake up and begin their journey home.
"Where is Gareth?" he snapped against his better judgment of his churning hangover.
"He has not returned since last night, my lord," one answered.
Novak rolled his eyes and sauntered back into his tent. He lay back down on his cot, burying his face in the padding. His own hangover began to beat at his body.
Talyis remained planted in the middle of the tent and her voice cannoned, "Now that you have taken me, I demand to know your wishes."
Novak cursed, "You pestilent gnat, can you not see that I do not wish to speak to you."
He massaged his temples and caught Talyis digging her heels into the ground. He was being unnerved by the second; she dared to cross him with her pigheadedness.
"If your wish is my territory, you may have it. My land is rich and you will make a great profit in trading. I will personally arrange for my allies to join with your people. Only let my people live and scatter. Let the families find refuge. I will assure you they will not retaliate for their fallen kingdom."
"I've told you, I do not want you land," Novak groaned and closed his eyes wishing her booming voice would shut.
She regrouped her resolve, trying to keep her boiling contempt from ruining the importance of this negotiation. "Then it's life for life you want. Take my life and any of my people from the generation that killed off yours. The young generation does not even know that you exist. Let them be free to live. I believe this is highly diplomatic, nations rise and fall. Your people provoked their fate."
Novak charged Talyis, his head swirling, making him sick when he pushed the girl to the ground. His raging energy sucked all the air out of the tent, "My people were peaceful. Your king
massacred
our lands without due justice. I told you princess to let alone but your insistent impudence should have you canned. You are marked. Do you know what that means?"
She shook her head frazzled looking up at him in total confusion.
"It means, I've taken you. You are bound to me for the rest of your pitiful life, however short and pathetic it maybe."
