Wendell and the others Danyais brought with him study their surroundings, admiring how everything Clyden constructed around his dwellings to be hidden. Danyais’ guards all prided themselves on their superb observational skills. It was one of the key tools they all relied on to protect the royal family. Wendell, along with most of the men, must have walked down the hill a dozen times in an effort to spot the structures after learning of their existence. They made the trips, even knowing they would get winded and muddier every time.
“My King, I am ashamed. I had no idea this was all up here,” Wendell said, after making his last trip back up the muddy hill. He sucked in heavy breaths, trying to recover his stamina, marveling at the surroundings again while trying to clean the excess mud clinging to his legs and arms.
Danyais looked at his men gathered at the front of the giant tree. Some of them fared better than he did coming up the hill, others had green arms, faces partially green, and some like Danyais, had their entire faces turned green. Their armors and shields were stained to the point where it looked like a painter with a fixation for the color of green were mad at them. They all shared in King Danyais’ muddy fate now, except for Zander, who somehow managed to remain remarkably clean. The men tossed clumps of mud at him in playful acts of vengeance. Zander shrewdly countered them by edging his horse closer to the king, using Danyais as a shield. The men relented, not wanting to hit their king with mud accidentally.
The door to the tree opened, bringing all activity to a cease, and Clyden stepped out the door with a sack over his shoulder. Some of the guards tried to angle their heads so they could catch a glimpse of the interior of the tree before the magus closed the door. The men watched Clyden wearily in case he meant harm to their king. Clyden looked at the men who were stained green before focusing on the pristine Zander.
“I see you came up the dry side. I am going to have to hide it better,” Clyden said to Zander.
“Dry side!” several of the men asked in unison, and the mud volleys commenced again since Zander did not share his secret with the rest of them.
“His kid’s name, the bastard is called Nilec, right!?” someone threatened aloud, referring to their conversation on rumors before.
Zander edged his horse closer to Danyais. “It is your turn to stand in front of the assassins’ mud balls, my King!” Zander loudly announced while smirking. Danyais laughed, and so did several of the other men as the muddy projectiles ceased.
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“Take this, send it to Sukkan,” Clyden said to Danyais, but handing the sack to Zander instead. Zander curiously opened the sack, peering into it. Inside the bag, there was a giant skull that looked like it belonged to a dog, but it had a horn, and the teeth were longer than any dog he had ever seen. It was the skull of just one of the types of vrollocs. “Be careful of the teeth they can still poison and kill,” he warned, causing Zander to freeze and shut the opening to the sack immediately.
“Poison?! Here, you best hold this King Danyais,” Zander said, handing him the sack. Some of the men who knew of the story of the poisoned assassin’s blade laughed. The others who did not know of Zander’s heroic story glared harshly or with incredulous looks at him. Danyais was one of those who laughed.
“Are you sure you will not help?” Danyais asked Clyden again.
“Is this all of your men?” Clyden asked, ignoring the question, walking towards the chicken coup carved into one of the large trees. “I will take eighteen of you back to Rose Claw. The other two will be taken back to River Tarrow with your horses when I return. Decide who stays.”
River Tarrow was a town about two hours away from the capital city, Dragon Crest. Rose Claw, where the monarchy resided, was eventually swallowed by Dragon Crest as it increased in size over hundreds of years. Dragon Crest’s massive walls, or the thorn wall, as it was known, encircled the entire city. The guards now looked at Clyden like he was insane; some even moved closer to their king.
“Is the room near your old room when you were a babe still not in use?” Clyden asked King Danyais.
“My father issued an order for that room never to be used,” Danyais answered back.
Danyais had a vague memory of when he was a kid trying to open the door Clyden spoke of, but it was locked from the inside, and there was no handle or keyhole on the outside of the door. His father had caught him, and it was one of the few times he was scolded harshly. The room Clyden inquired about was the room he occupied when he saved Danyais when he was a child. King Danyais thought it was odd that his father, King Ledan, gifted the room to Clyden in the same way he did Clyden’s forest.
“Good, then we can go now. Choose two men to stay with the horses,” Clyden said. After a moment, the two chosen to stay behind sat on their horses. The others were carrying their saddles and sundries. Clyden walked over to the chicken coup. “Ready?” he asked one more time.
“I like my eggs runny,” someone among the gathered men joked.
Even Clyden laughed at the joke. The other men joined in, but their laughter was cut short when Clyden’s hand glowed orange, replaced by wide-open mouths and fearful, startled eyes. Clyden touched the tree to the right of the door of the chicken coup. The orange light from his hand seemed to transfer to the bark of the tree. The tree made a sound like timber cracking, revealing an orange outline of a door that glowed quickly before fading away. He pushed on the door resembling the bark of the tree, and it opened into a dark room. Clyden turned and looked at the expressions on the men’s faces, and it was his turn to laugh at them as he walked through the door.
