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A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden
A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden Read online
Copyright 2014 by Shiriluna Nott
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, either physically or digitally, without the express written consent of the author. All characters are creations of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidence.
Edited by Karen Robinson of INDIE Books Gone Wild
Proofread by Jennifer Oberth of INDIE Books Gone Wild
Cover Design by Dennis Frohlich
Dedicated to my loving parents, who instilled within me a passion for reading and creativity, and who always encouraged me to follow my dreams.—Shiriluna Nott
For my mother, my first true hero, the one who always believed in me. For my children, in hopes that one day there will be no need for heroes. And for those who still cannot speak for themselves for fear of oppression.—SaJa H.
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Links to other books in the Chronicles of Arden series:
Nightfall: Book Two
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
“Feels cold enough for a hard frost tonight, don’t you think, Gib?”
Gibben Nemesio paused in the middle of his labor, brown eyes shifting toward his younger brother, Tayver, who had also ceased his work. The two boys had been outside all day and made admirable progress with the harvest, but cutting down and stacking wheat was a slow and strenuous task. With only two pairs of hands working, it would take the two brothers three full days to reap the entire field. With a heavy sigh, Gib relaxed his grip on the handle of the scythe and lowered the tool until it rested against the pile of wheat he’d just finished bundling.
He raised his head to gaze at his surroundings. A fog was rising from the creek that wove its way along the farthest corner of the field owned by Gib’s family. The mist was thick and dense, the kind that swallowed everything in its path. It was quickly enveloping the entire farm, dwarfing the already slight amount of land that Gib could call his own. His brow creased as he noticed a harsh bite in the air. The sun was still well above the horizon, but already the chill more commonly associated with darkness or winter had begun to seep through both clothing and skin.
Gib pursed his lips and his face fell into a pained grimace, but he was careful not to show his displeasure to his younger sibling. There was no reason yet for alarm, and Gib didn’t want to worry his brother unnecessarily. As the eldest of the three Nemesio boys, worrying was his job. Tayver and Calisto had given up enough of their childhood due to their impoverished and unfortunate circumstances. Protecting them from the distress of adult responsibility was the very least Gib could do—for as long as he could manage anyway.
Recomposing himself, he turned toward Tayver. Flashing a meager, forced smile, Gib replied, “I don’t think it’ll freeze tonight. It’s still a sennight until the harvest festival begins. The cold usually stays north for a while yet.”
Gib bit his bottom lip, taking a moment to plead in silence to the Goddess of Light. If ever she were to listen to the requests of a poor farm boy, this would be an ideal time. Daya, be merciful. We’ll lose half the field if there is a hard freeze tonight. This would surely spell disaster for his family as it had already been a rough year on the crops. With too little warmth and so much excess rain, the fields had resembled a bog for the better part of the season. The spring crop had yielded less than desirable results and now the autumn wheat was not growing as high or heartily as it should.
Tayver raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Nothing has been ‘usual’ about this year so far.”
Gib reached up to sweep a hand across his forehead, brushing the mop of unruly mouse-brown hair away from his eyes. He was in desperate need of a haircut but the harvest would likely keep him far too busy to make the journey to Willowdale to see a barber, at least for the foreseeable future. He might have to grit his teeth and allow one of his brothers to take a pair of shears to the locks before then.
Gib smiled, attempting to reassure his brother. “Well, then our fate lies in the hands of the Two. By the grace of the Goddesses we’ve made it this far. Surely they must care to some small degree.”
An imploring snort came from the younger boy. “If Daya and Chhaya cared about the lives of the simple folk, surely They would have blessed us with sunshine this growing season instead of showering us with rain and hail.” Tayver groaned as his hands worked to tie off a bundle of stacked wheat. “We didn’t even have enough barley to sell at market this year. If the wheat doesn’t yield results, I’m not sure if we’ll make it through the winter.”
Gib shot his brother a stern look. “We’ll be fine. Really, Tay. If the need arises, I’ll slaughter one of the goats for meat. Remember the drought two wheelturns ago? We made it through that all right, didn’t we?”
“I suppose we did.”
“And the blight that ruined our entire potato crop last fall—we came outta that just fine.”
Tayver was shuffling his feet in the dirt, chestnut eyes cast downward. “Or like when Pa died and Liza was already gone. Cal, you, and I were alone. We got through that too.”
Gib blinked in surprise. Their father’s death had always been an uncomfortable subject among the brothers, and Tayver usually didn’t initiate any conversation pertaining to the matter. Gib found himself hesitating, wondering if he should press his brother or not. Their father had been dead for two years and Tayver had never opened up about the loss. Others had told Gib to give Tayver space and as much time as he may need but it had been hard. Only eleven at the time, Gib had suddenly found himself the head of the household. He had two young ones to care for and an absent older sister who had joined the Arden sentinels to bring a scanty purse home to the farm as time permitted.
Gib busied himself with slicing down the next batch of wheat, unsure how or if to proceed with this conversation, while Tayver followed behind.
They worked in relative silence for a short time until the younger brother spoke again tentatively. “It’s supposed to get easier over time, isn’t it? Shouldn’t the pain fade after a while? Why do I still miss Pa so much?” He stopped working and wiped at his eyes.
“We all miss him, Tay.” Gib set down his scythe and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders, not knowing what to do next or how to offer comfort, but knowing it was what their father would have done. Gib looked around desperately, wishing for something to say that wouldn’t cause further tears. “There’s nothing wrong with missing Pa. Or even Ma. It’s normal and right to miss them, but we have to go on. Neither of them would want us to give up.”
Tayver sniffed sharply and rolled his reddened eyes. “I know that but—when is it going to get easier? When will we be whole again? Is Liza going to come home? And is Pa ever going to have justice? Doesn’t anyone care?”
Gib looked away and winced, hiding his expression. He’d hoped his brother would be too young to see the apparent injustice of their plight. Tayver and Calisto needed to be able to mourn the death of their father and move on. By now they should be able to simply go back to being children again—but it seemed that such luxury was not meant
to be theirs. Tayver dashed Gib’s hopes with each question.
He took a deep breath and pushed onward. “It’s not as easy as that. Pa’s been dead for two years. It would be next to impossible to find the thief who killed him now.”
Tayver yanked away from Gib as though scalded by his touch. Balling small hands into fists, Tayver shot back, “But it’s wrong to kill! The sentinels should have found the thief and killed him! He doesn’t deserve to be out there still, killing other people like he did Pa.”
“I agree. I wish the killer had been tracked down too, but there just weren’t any witnesses. The Willowdale marketplace is busy. The thief was fast and knew what he was doing.” Gib reached out a tentative hand and touched his brother’s hair with gentle affection. “There wasn’t enough information or guards to find him. It was an accident, Tay. Pa was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It doesn’t make any sense and it hurts but there’s nothing to be done for it now.”
Another tear slipped down Tayver’s dirty cheek. “That’s not good enough.” He took in a choppy breath and wiped at his face again. “Pa is gone. Liza is out there in danger. And we’ve been left all alone.”
Gib nodded and took up his scythe once more. “I know, I know. Pa is gone but he taught us right. We know how to work this farm and are strong enough to survive. He’s given us all he could and we can do no more for him than prove that we can do this, that he didn’t fail us.”
He set himself back to work and hoped his brother would follow along again. Getting their feelings out into the open was good, but the crop wouldn’t harvest itself. Feeling the need, however, to assure Tayver that their elder sister was in no immediate peril, Gib added, “Liza knows what danger she’s in out there, but she’s smart enough to keep herself out of harm’s way. She chose to become a soldier because it’s the right thing to do. She’s a sentinel of Arden so that she can help others like us. She keeps people safe—people like Pa who might find themselves at the mercy of a thief.”
A long moment followed while Tayver seemed to debate all Gib had said. Anger flashed in Tayver’s cold, dark eyes, but he was managing his emotions as stoically as could be expected of a young boy. After another deep breath or two, the younger brother picked up his own tools and set back to work. “I miss Liza. She should be here, at home with us.”
Gib nodded. “Yes, but we’re not alone. You, Cal, and I have each other. We’re together and we’re going to stay together. I promise.”
Tayver grunted and their conversation faded into silence. All that could be heard were the soft, steady swishing of their blades and their footsteps as they worked. Then the wind began to pick up, carrying the sound of whistling crickets. Shortly after, a choir of frogs joined in as well, lending their harmonic voices to the nature-borne song. Evening was settling in all too soon around them. Gib refused to say anything more on the subject, but his mind wandered back to the possibility of frost as he hoped against it.
The first stars had begun to peek out of their daytime hiding places. The sky was a glorious mix of rich reds and deep blues, and the stars twinkled against the dusky canvas as though they were dancing for the brothers, enticing them to halt their labor and admire the beauty painted in the heavens before them. Under any other circumstances, Gib would have gladly obliged, but the threat of a freeze was a serious concern. He couldn’t stop, not until darkness had stolen all trace of daylight from the land and it was impossible to see, let alone reap the wheat.
About half a mark later, Gib heard a harsh scraping noise in the distance followed by the bustle of small feet scampering toward them. The first sound was unmistakably the door to the family’s cottage. The hinges had been deteriorating for the past several cycles and would be rusted over entirely in a matter of time. Gib made a quick mental note to look at the door when the light of day returned.
“Gib! Tay!”
The quietness was broken by the spirited voice of Gib’s youngest brother, Calisto, calling to the older boys from the edge of the field. Gib sighed and rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that played at the corner of his mouth. Cal was out here for one of two reasons. Either he was hungry or something had gone wrong inside the house, and Gib was almost positive it was the former.
“Let me guess,” Gib called back across the field, his tone playful despite his weariness. “Dinner is ready.”
Even through the growing darkness, Gib could see his brother’s lips curl upward into a fully fledged grin. Calisto nodded his head with vigor. “Yep, sure is! And that’s not all! Guess what! Liza’s here!”
Gib nearly dropped his scythe and was certain that his jaw almost hit the ground. “Liza?”
Tayver was likewise flabbergasted. His eyes darted toward Gib. “I thought you said she wasn’t supposed to come home until Midwinter.”
Gib’s mind was racing with questions. The last he’d heard from his sister, she’d been stationed in Silver City, a three-day journey by horseback from the farm. In her letter, Liza had stressed how busy she’d been, especially with the constant threat of war breaking out on the eastern border. Surely she hadn’t been given a leave of absence with so many duties to fulfill and the rising threat to the country. What was of so much importance that Liza had been given permission to return home?
“Come on,” Calisto was pressing in a gleeful voice. “Come to the house and see her!”
Brown eyes hopeful, Tayver looked to Gib for permission to quit working, and with a sigh, he nodded. He couldn’t force Tayver to stay now that their sister was here. “I’ll finish up. Cal and Tay, you both go on ahead.” Both boys raced toward the house without another word.
He wanted to drop what he was doing and follow behind his brothers but knew he could stack several more bundles of wheat before calling it quits for the night. Gib worked with renewed vigor despite his aching back and shoulders. It took every bit of self-control within him not to throw his scythe aside and sprint toward the cottage. As excited as he was by the arrival of his sister, her unexpected visit troubled Gib—and he wondered if it had anything to do with the conflict on the border. His stomach flopped as the realization dawned on him that perhaps Liza had come to tell them she was leaving for war. After all, she’d mentioned in her last letter that the High Council of Arden had been pushing for battle against Shiraz for some time now. What if the declaration had been made? What if Liza left—and never returned?
Gib swallowed his emotions, reminding himself it was ridiculous to jump to such conclusions. Liza had also assured Gib in the same letter that the King of Arden was doing all he could to avoid conflict with Shiraz. The King didn’t want to resort to fighting if he could help it. Gib didn’t pretend to know much about the policies of the country, but he was pretty sure that only the King could declare war on another nation, so although the High Council seemed to be pressing for battle, unless the King gave the order himself, Arden would not march.
No, it was more likely Liza had been relocated to one of the settlements on the western border—Ostlea or Greenbank perhaps—and she was simply stopping by on her way through to inform her brothers of the reassignment. The threat had to be all in Gib’s head. No war was coming. That couldn’t be the reason his sister was here.
True darkness had fallen across the field now and Gib had no choice but to cease his labor. He stored away his tools in the shed which also housed the family’s livestock—a pair of goats and a few hens—and then followed along the path toward the house. The outline of the cottage was visible against the darkened sky as he made his approach, and smoke was rising in gentle wisps from the vent at the peak of the thatched roof. Relief washed over him in a wave as the boisterous laughter of conversing siblings could be heard from inside the house. It felt good to be home.
Gib pulled the door open, cursing under his breath as the hinges groaned in protest. He’d little time to dwell on that, for almost as soon as Gib had closed the door, Liza swept up—seemingly out of nowhere—and all but threw herself into his arms.
Gib chuckled and returned the embrace. Liza smelled of leather and scented soap. Her mouse-brown hair was tied with a ribbon at the nape of her neck, though a number of rebellious ringlets had escaped during her travels and were now congregating around her ears. All the Nemesio children had the same curly brown hair and large chestnut eyes. Liza frequently reminded them they had inherited their looks from their mother. Gib would have to take Liza’s word on that because he could hardly remember what his mother looked like now.
“You look taller,” Gib remarked, holding his sister at arm’s length.
Liza smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. “You don’t.”
Gib’s head fell back as he laughed. “Well, damn.” He could hear Tayver snickering from the far corner of the room.
“What about me, Liza?” Calisto asked as he pulled on the frayed edge of his sister’s tunic, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. “Have I got any bigger since you were last here?”
Liza leaned down, pretending to scrutinize him with a withering gaze. She was quiet for several moments before nodding her head in approval and replying, “Hmm. I think you have, Cal. At this rate, you’ll surely be taller than Gib by this time next year.” She gave the youngster a wink and Calisto grinned proudly.
Gib snorted but couldn’t think up any other form of rebuttal. He extended an arm to gently poke his brother in the ribs and force a change in the topic of discussion. “Hey Cal, didn’t you say dinner was ready?”
The young boy’s eyes widened. “Oh, right!” He scampered toward the open hearth, which was situated against the far wall of the room. A large kettle of pottage simmered above the fire pit. The flames had long since burned low and now only glowing embers remained to keep the stew warm and illuminate the cottage. Calisto used a ladle to stir the contents of the pot while Tayver brought over wooden bowls.