Tristan

  He waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  But no heat enclosed him.

  Beyond the darkness, only a few whispers broke the strained quiet.

  Tristan wanted to hide behind that darkness forever, to bury himself within the silence and be consumed by it.

  For a few moments, he let it do just that.

  But the whispers grew in both quantity and volume, and before long Tristan could no longer pretend he was nothing but a small, invisible speck in the world.

  He opened his eyes to see both the commander and the soldier in charge- and somebody else.

  A man in an expensive-looking leather cloak was holding Bole’s arm upright, earning a scowl that rivaled even the one given to Tristan.

  “Does the army always burn people alive, or is this just a special occasion?” He said, his voice smooth and slightly accented.

  “Let go of my hand this instant!”

  Tristan glanced at the soldiers around him curiously. He’d expected them all to have killed the man by now for interfering with the two commanders, but they were simply gaping at him instead.

  He looked to Tristan as the soldier struggled for his arm back. “So your men can pummel this poor boy with arrows?”

  "Let go or you’ll be the one pummeled with arrows.”

  Every soldier gasped in horror.

  The man chuckled. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

  Bole finally broke free of his grasp, gesturing at the soldiers to stand by. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  The soldier leaned in closer to the man and whispered something in his ear, to which he erupted in laughter.

  “You think the lad is a vampire? Have you slipped on some horse shit and hit your head?”

  Bole gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t one to talk.

  The man began to walk towards Tristan, something glinting from just beneath his cloak. “Well, I suppose I should take a look into this slanderous accusation.”

  “Wait, don’t get too close!” Bole called after him.

  Tristan couldn’t help but hold his breath and stay still as he paused before him.

  “A vampire, you say?” the man said as he looked down at Tristan.

  Before he could even think to speak, he grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.

  The man's grip wasn't quite as strong as that of the female vampire, but any remnants of strength had faded after Tristan's body healed itself. Still, the man wasn’t even a little concerned as Tristan helplessly scratched and clawed at his tan, muscled arm.

  But human or vampire, he was powerless all the same.

  “All I see is a brat weaker than my baby niece.”

  Tristan struggled harder to hurt him, the man’s rough features growing dimmer in his vision. From this angle, he could see the hilt of a sword in its sheathe at his waist.

  “Stop! He can kill you!”

  “Oh? Go on, then,” he drawled to Tristan. “I hear meeting a glorious end makes one popular with the ladies.”

  The field was silent, save for Tristan’s choking, as everybody waited for him to do something.

  But despite his efforts, he failed at that, too.

  The man sighed, releasing his hold on Tristan just he was about to pass out. “How disappointing.”

  He fell and grabbed at his own throat as he finally took a breath.

  “The kid is now under the custody of the Kingsguard!” The man announced to the field, holding an arm out. A badge, the largest and most ornate Tristan had seen yet, was now visible from where it’d been hidden beneath his cloak. “Anyone who so much as lands a scratch on him without my consent will answer to the king himself.”

  As Tristan looked from the man to his badge to the looks on the soldiers faces, his words dawned on him.

  The Kingsguard.

  The highest ranking officers in the army- their power second only to the royal family itself in all of Lysia.

  The unit he dreamed of someday joining.

  And now he was theirs.

  “What are you talking about?’” The commander yelled across the field. Beside him, Bole looked like he was having the worst day ever. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Does the army now allow those who are hard of hearing in addition to stupid within their ranks?”

  To Tristan’s delight, all color drained from his face as even more murmurs echoed amongst the soldiers. “How can we know you aren’t lying? Where is your general?”

  “You’re looking at him.”

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  The soldiers stared at the man in a mix of shock, disbelief, and awe.

  Even the commander gave him a dubious look. “You’re Garen Hawthorne?”

  “You know my name- how flattering.”

  “Of course I know who the general of the Kingsguard is, I’m just struggling to believe that you’re him.”

  Tristan had to admit that he agreed. He’d never read about the current general of the Kingsguard but he expected such a person to be more…general-like. The men handpicked by the king to be his personal soldiers were said to be the most ruthless of warriors, and the man before him looked more like a lord or nobleman with his leather cloak and not a single piece of armor in sight. His only weapon was the sword tucked into a scabbard at his waist.

  And he may not have had a lot of examples to go off of, but Tristan was pretty sure that generals weren't typically this crass. Especially not ones of such a high caliber.

  It almost made Tristan like the damned guy, him choking and insulting him aside.

  Leader of the most powerful and elite group of people in the world, he thought. What he would do to become someone like that…

  “That’s the beautiful thing about reality,” the man, supposedly Garen, said. “It doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what you believe.”

  Tristan bit down a smile.

  “I’m still failing to see any actual proof of your identity.”

  “Why don’t you ask your friend?”

  As if suddenly remembering he existed, the commander blinked and glanced at Bole. “Is it true?”

  The soldier simply looked straight ahead at the man claiming to be Garen Hawthorne. “I’ve only met him once years ago, but unless someone’s found a way to impersonate him with perfect accuracy, I’m afraid this man is speaking the truth.”

  The commander turned back to the man and studied him. “If someone had told me just a few days ago that vampires exist, I’d probably laugh in their face. Anything is possible, I refuse to believe that he is who he says he is.”

  “Even though anything is possible?” Garen retorted.

  “I find the existence of vampires to be more believable than you.”

  “Very well, then,” he snorted. “Take me to Lord Gellard- that old bloke is still in charge of these lands, is he not? He’ll recognize me, less his sight’s finally kicked the bucket like the rest of him.”

  The commander narrowed his eyes at him before turning to discuss the matter quietly with Bole. The rest of the soldiers fidgeted with their bows and arrows as if lost without orders.

  Garen glanced at him over his shoulder. “Cheer up, kid. When this is all sorted out, we’re getting you out of here.”

  “W-where are you taking me?” Tristan’s mouth was dry as he spoke.

  He smiled. “Why spoil the surprise?”

  A range of possibilities raced through his head as Garen looked back at Bole and the commander, still muttering about what to do with him.

  They finally turned back and Bole said, “We’ll take you to Lord Gellard, but you must surrender your weapons.”

  “Very well, then,” Garen agreed, unclasping the scabbard from his belt and pointing to Tristan. “But I also have a stipulation- this one comes with us.”

  Bole approached them. “Absolutely not.”

  “Relax, I’m not going to abduct the kid,” he said, unclasping his sword. “I’ve only got this, but I must warn you not to unsheathe it unless you’d like an early demise.”

  Bole took the scabbard from Garen’s hands, asking him to remove his coat so he can ensure he wasn’t hiding additional weapons.

  Garen smirked as he did so, stretching his arms out. “Is this just an excuse for you to pat me down?”

  Bole rolled his eyes as he waved for one of the bow-wielders to join them, handing him Garen’s sword and coat before running his hands through his sleeves, boots, pockets, and pants. Once he was satisfied that Garen wasn’t hiding any weapons, he allowed the soldier to give him his coat back and took the sword for himself.

  “Lord Gellard’s manor is an hour by wagon. We’d better get going before the sun sets.”

  “You, there,” Garen suddenly said to Tristan. “What is your name?”

  “It’s Tristan.”

  “I apologize for the delay in plans, Tristan, but what can I do against idiocracy?”

  “Plans?” The commander echoed, having joined them after dismissing the rest of the soldiers who were now packing up their bows and walking off in a flurry of murmurs. “Care to enlighten us?”

  Garen shrugged. “I’m afraid my hands are tied- top secret Kingsguard business and all, I’m sure you understand.”

  “Speaking of tied hands…”

  The commander withdrew a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “I’m afraid I’ll have to incapacitate you, just in case. I’m sure you understand.”

  “You fellows really like to cover all your bases, don’t you?” Garen said, presenting his wrists. “Be gentle with me, then.”

  The commander cuffed his hands and gestured behind him. “The wagon is this way.”

  With a look to Tristan he added, “I say let him come with us. At the very least, it’ll make things more interesting.”

  Garen laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

  Bole reluctantly nodded before leading them down the path to a wagon with a brown horse already attached, its driver napping atop his seat.

  “We’re back, Jackson,” he said.

  The man jumped awake and took the horse's reigns, curiously glancing at Garen and Tristan. “Where to, sir?”

  “Lord Gellard’s manor, and make it quick.”

  They climbed into the carriage, seemingly no different than the one Tristan was in before. This time he was next to the commander with Garen facing him beside Bole.

  As the horse began to pull them the commander spoke. “So how did you know where to find us?”

  Garen comfortably splayed against the back of his bench. “My dumbass alarm went off.”

  “I suppose we’re the dumbasses in this situation.”

  “How perceptive of you. Perhaps my alarm needs a few tweaks.”

  Bole rubbed his temples. “Enough. Please answer the question.”

  Garen gave him a look that suggested he was the only adult in the carriage but said, “I asked around. I don’t know how you handle things in your towns, but in my unit it isn’t difficult to get soldiers to talk when you’re their superior.”

  The commander snorted. “Right, I forgot we’re going with this story.”

  “Is it so hard to believe that I’m the general of the Kingsguard?”

  “Honestly,” Bole said, gazing out of a window. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  Garen looked between Tristan and the commander. “I heard you two were there yesterday.”

  The memories flooded through Tristan like a knife in his heart. After a tense pause, the commander said, “I’m waiting for the punchline.”

  “There is none, I’m just sorry about what happened.”

  Another pause. “You know.”

  “What?”

  Both Bole and Tristan’s heads perked up.

  The commander’s typical arrogant expression melted into fury. “If you’re really who you say you are, then you’re one of the only Zohar damned people in the world who knows what happened.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened. “Is that true?”

  All eyes fell on him.

  “Do you know…why the vampires- why they attacked us?”

  Garen studied him. “They didn’t.”

  “…What do you mean, they didn’t?”

  “Vampires don’t exist. Your town was attacked by rogue bandits.”

  “Bandits?” Tristan echoed, his voice shaking. “You’re telling me it was bandits who made the freaking sun disappear?!”

  Garen looked out of his window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re lying! You probably aren’t even the general after all!”

  “On the contrary,” the commander said, “the fact that he’s repeating the kingdom’s official position on the existence of vampires makes it all the more likely.”

  He gestured towards Tristan. “What do you make of this one, then?”

  “He’s just a kid with weird-colored blood,” Garen answered, still watching the trees as they passed by.

  “Is that what you think or what the royal family has decided?”

  “Niles,” Bole warned, and Tristan was taken aback at suddenly learning the commander’s name.

  But he continued, “How many people do you know who can survive a shot to the chest? Or is the Kingsguard so special that such abilities are normal for you?”

  “I don’t see any bullet wounds.”

  “And Frostwood?” Niles said. “Do you intend to gaslight the entire kingdom about what happened there? What about all the refugees- it was a miracle we escaped with even ten carriages full. Do you have any idea how many people were at the festival, how many we couldn’t save?”

  Garen finally met his eyes. “I have better an idea than any of you.”

  Niles scoffed. “I bet you do. Must be nice, being the most powerful person in the entire army, knowing all the king’s dirty little secrets. Everybody wants to be you and yet nobody knows what it is you guys even do.”

  “Niles-“

  “What about the rest of Danethal? None of our messengers have returned, we’ve been in the dark for almost twenty hours.”

  Garen stared at him.

  Niles gritted his teeth. “Answer me.”

  The carriage was silent as Garen seemed to mull something over in his head, finally saying, “Danethal has fallen.”