Chapter 23: THE REBELLION BEGINS

Parmo looked over the small group of men gathered around him in his upstairs bedroom of The Herdsman. Their plans had come together quickly after Parmo agreed to stay and help. Rufous and Gaetan had already recruited soldiers, sailors, and officials from every arm of the Pyrthinian government, and they already had all the workings of a plan. All Parmo had to do was bring an outside perspective and settle a few arguments, and now here they were on the cusp of staging a coup. Nearly a dozen men were packed into the room, standing around the sagging bed which had become a desk of sorts with a large map of the city spread out across it.

"What news do you bring?" Parmo asked of the newest member of their group, an archer whom Gaetan had recruited from Castle Pyrthin.

"I was witness to the butchering of those girls three days ago," the man said. "After Wulfram killed my captain and all those girls, the houndkeeper gave Wulfram a message. Wulfram said he was summoned back to Col Sargoth. I was standing close enough to hear it with my own ears. He said that the Prince had escaped, and I can only assume he meant Prince Caile."

"Those are good tidings," Parmo said, pushing aside the thought of the girls being butchered by Wulfram and turning his gaze upon Gaetan. "Have you confirmed the sightings of Wulfram leaving the city?"

"Aye," Gaetan replied. "We've confirmed over thirty sightings of him flying off. People around the castle, in the city, and even in the farms to the west saw him making toward Col Sargoth."

"We must act now then," Parmo said, taking a deep breath and making sure he had everything straight in his mind before continuing. "Who's in charge of the archers?" he asked the new recruit.

"Me. I'm the captain now."

"Perfect," Parmo said. "How many men can you steal away from the castle unnoticed tonight? Men you can trust?"

The captain of the archers eyed Parmo silently for a long moment before responding. "Six, including myself."

"Then you will go with me to the houndkeeper's tower. I'll go into the tower myself to deal with the houndkeeper's men, but if they keep their wits about them they will try to send a warning to Col Sargoth. We can't risk any ravens getting loose, Captain, otherwise Wulfram will be right back here to make a short end of our work. Make sure nothing gets out of that window alive."

"If I may?" the captain said, looking to his fellow Pyrthinian soldiers and sailors. "Why is it that we are taking orders from a Valarion? And one five years my junior by the look of him."

Parmo pursed his lips. He still couldn't keep his head around the idea that his body was young now. Before Makarria had remade him, his distinctly Valarion features had been hidden beneath wrinkles, sagging skin, and grayed hair. No one would have ever suspected him of being a Valarion. In addition, his aged appearance had lent him an air of wisdom and dignity. No one instinctively trusts a young man though, he reminded himself, particularly if he's not your countryman. You've got to earn it.

"I apologize if I sometimes presume to give orders," Parmo said. "I'm merely making suggestions, and I promise you, we share the same goals, Captain. I want to see King Casstian free and on the throne again. My niece has been abducted along with the princess. I want to get them both back. I want the Emperor and Wulfram dead. I want to again see the day where Pyrthinia and Valaróz are the closest of allies."

"Parmo's proven himself," Gaetan said. "He saved my life and Rufous's, both."

"That's right," Rufous affirmed. "And no one is giving orders to no one. We're all in this together. We all have our own areas of know-how and skills. It just so happens that Parmo's is with strategics."

The archer nodded. "If you vouch for him, it's good enough for me, I suppose."

"Will you go with me to the tower, then?" Parmo asked.

"Me and my five best men. It is done."

"Thank you," Parmo said with a nod. "The rest of us then, let's proceed as planned. Gaetan, you know where to find the houndkeeper's new harbor master: kill him."

"With pleasure."

"Jeremo, Arsino, Callum, you'll split up and take the three gate-keepers."

The three men nodded.

"Loukas and Eudecio, you must secure the treasury."

"Consider it secured."

"And the rest of you," Parmo said at last, "Castle Pyrthin is yours. Wulfram has left it sorely unguarded. At best, the houndkeeper has ten of his own men there. The rest of the inhabitants are loyal Pyrthinians; they obey the houndkeeper now out of fear, but they will join you if you have the courage to take charge. All of you, use your name and rank to command whatever troops you can to do your bidding. Rufous, don't forget, you're now the captain of the King's flagship and that makes you an admiral. You'll find few in the castle at night who outrank you. Are we all clear?"

Every man in the room nodded in assent.

"Very well then," Parmo said, "at midnight, we all act at once."

No one said a word, and in the silence Parmo couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the right choice in staying. His heart had told him to keep searching for Makarria, and yet here he was caught up in revolt. You might have a young body now, but the world is moving faster than your mind, he warned himself. Keep your wits about you tonight.

~~~

Natarios Rhodas woke with an unsettling feeling. He'd been dreaming that he was being pecked to pieces by ravens while simultaneously being burnt alive. He pushed the images out of his mind and tucked his fur blanket back around his shoulders. I shouldn't have such nasty dreams when I'm sleeping in this big, lush bed, he mused. I don't know how Casstian found the willpower to get out of bed every morning.

He rooted his head deeper into one of the down pillows and clamped his eyes shut, but sleep would not come to him. His stomach began grumbling after a while and he decided the only thing to do was to head down to the larder to grab some warm milk and a bite of cheese. His mind settled, he threw aside the covers, grabbed his night robe from the bedside, and stepped into his slippers. When he slipped out the door into the corridor, he found his guard asleep in his chair. "Worthless fool," Natarios muttered, but he shuffled past without waking the man and made his way down the stairs to the kitchens and the larder. A few solitary cooks were there kneading dough for the morning meal, but they paid him no heed. He helped himself to a jug of milk and broke off a sizable chunk from a wheel of cheese, then sat on a step stool to enjoy his snack. This is the life, he told himself. You won't find milk and cheese in the middle of the night in your old tower. No warm, comfy bed with big cushy pillows. No warm robe and slippers. Just that smelly hound. Those squawking ravens. And always on the lookout for that wretched Wulfram.

A shout suddenly rang out disrupting his thoughts, followed by heavy footsteps in the corridor outside the kitchen. Perplexed as to who could be shouting at this hour, Natarios set aside his jug of milk and peered out from the larder doorway. He saw Pyrthinian soldiers hurrying by and realized they were heading in the direction of the stairs toward his quarters.

"Sargoth's hairy arse," he swore beneath his breath and stepped back into the larder. He could hear the men running up the stairs now and beating on his door. Without a second thought, he crept to the back of the larder and let himself out the back door into the service yard where stores and wares were delivered each day. No one was about at this time of night, however, and Natarios simply unlocked the service gate and exited Castle Pyrthin's outer walls unimpeded. You have quite the nose for danger, he congratulated himself. Quite the nose, indeed.

~~~

Parmo withdrew his sword and held the blade before him in the wan moonlight alongside the houndkeeper's tower. The blade—now polished and honed to a fine edge—felt odd in his hands. It had been decades since he last wielded it. The last time he had killed a man with the sword he had been in Valaróz, and he had been wearing his ring, the ring that he left with his daughter. Prisca, I'm so sorry, he lamented. I didn't mean to take her away from you. I'll make it right again, I promise. He exhaled sharply and strode to the entrance of the tower where he banged on the door with the pommel of his sword.

"Who's there?" a voice shouted from inside.

"My name is Parmo. I bring news of the princess. I know where she is. I want my bounty."

The door opened a few inches and the guard inside peered through the crack. "What is it you know?"

"This," Parmo said, and he jabbed the tip of the sword into the man's exposed eye. It was not a clean thrust, though, and the man squealed out in pain as he fell back, merely maimed. Parmo kicked the door open and swore as he thrust the sword again, this time into the guard's heart. The man collapsed to the floor and Parmo leapt over his body to sprint up the spiraling staircase. There were two more of the houndkeepers's men upstairs, at least, and Parmo knew they must have heard the cry of pain. If they had any sense at all, they were hurriedly trying to write messages to send off with the ravens.

The stairs went on and on and Parmo found himself dizzy by the time he reached the first doorway some sixty feet up from the ground level. He paused a moment to gather himself and gripped his sword tightly before kicking the door in. With a shout, he lunged into the chamber only to find it empty but for the scent-hound on her giant compass wheel. Realizing he was in the wrong room, Parmo turned back into the stairwell and hurried up the last section of stairs. Inside the second chamber he found his quarry: two men bearing the seal of the Emperor. One of the men lunged at him while the other hurriedly reached into a cage to grab one of the ravens. Parmo parried the first man's knife thrust and kneed him in the groin. The man went down to his knees with a grunt and Parmo bashed his head with the pommel of his sword, splaying him out across the floor. The other man saw Parmo charging and screamed in panic as he hurled his raven toward the window. Parmo cut him down from behind, but too late. The raven opened its broad wings and took flight.

"Raven!" Parmo yelled, and even as he said it, three arrows whistled up from the darkness below to strike the hapless bird and send it flailing to the ground.

Parmo slumped to his knees over the window sill and sighed. "Well done, Captain," he said out the window after a long moment, then he turned to the two men lying in the chamber. The second was clearly dead, and after a quick examination, Parmo found the first one dead as well. He had been hoping to merely knock the man unconscious. Not quite used to the strength of this youthful body, he thought wryly. Still, it saved him the trouble of having to bind and drag the man downstairs. His part in carrying out the coup was complete. Now it's up to the others.

When he caught his breath, Parmo started back down the stairs, intent on joining up with the captain of the archers and going to the castle to see how their co-conspirators were faring, but as he passed the lower of the two chambers an odd noise caught his attention. He stopped and poked his head into the scent-hound's chamber. The hound's body quivered and Parmo heard the noise again. It was the hound itself. She was whining.

Parmo stepped into the chamber and eyed the creature warily. He had heard of the scent-hounds before, of course, but never seen one. Few people had. The sight of the miserable creature both disgusted him and stung his heart with pity. Its eyes were watching him, he realized, and it whined again.

"I can't help you," Parmo said. "I'm sorry."

The creature groaned—half-growl, half whimper—like an injured dog begging for help. "I can't help you," Parmo repeated, seeing the ghastly shaft through the creature's navel, and how its flesh was melded into the metal spokes of the giant compass. "There's no way to release you."

The creature kept at its whining and Parmo steeled himself. There was only one act of mercy he could perform, he knew. Taking a deep breath, he set his feet and raised his sword high over his head. He brought it down with all the force and precision he could muster and for a split second—right before the blade clove the dog-head from the woman's body—the creature went silent and Parmo swore he saw gratitude in its eyes. He hoped it was gratitude, at least, and told himself it was best this way. He then stepped out of the chamber and went slowly down the stairs.

~~~

King Casstian pushed himself up from the straw and muck covering the floor of his cell and looked through the small window slot in the iron door. The sound of heavy footsteps and a confusing array of shouted orders in the adjoining corridor had roused him from his muddled, half-asleep, half-awake state of consciousness. After the first few days in the dungeon, he had lost track of all sense of time. He had no idea how long he had been locked up and stood now only to interrupt the unceasing monotony his existence had become.

When a half-dozen soldiers congregated outside his cell then unlocked the door, he hardly realized what was happening.

"Your Majesty," one of the men said with a curt bow, "Castle Pyrthin has been retaken. We await your orders."

Casstian shielded his eyes against the glare of the torches they held. "I'm free?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"What of Wulfram, and that snake Natarios?"

"Wulfram left two days ago for Col Sargoth. The houndkeeper seems to have escaped, but we have killed or captured the rest of his men."

Casstian regarded his men silently for a moment. "You realize that by your actions, you have thrown Pyrthinia into war against the Emperor?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," one of the men replied, "war began the moment you were thrown into the dungeon."

Casstian smiled grimly. "Well said, man. Release the rest of my advisors from their cells and lead the way out of here. I need to wash the filth from me and eat a proper meal if I am to think straight again."

~~~

Parmo and the six archers found the main gates of Castle Pyrthin guarded when they arrived, but when the captain of the archers identified himself and mentioned Parmo's name, the guards quickly ushered them inside the courtyard.

"The King said to send you in straight away," one of the guards said to Parmo, leading the way into the main keep.

"He's safely freed, then?" Parmo queried.

"Alive and well," the guard said with a big grin on his face. "He's bathed already and in the mess hall eating like a man half-starved."

True to the guard's word, they found King Casstian in the mess hall. Rufous, Gaetan, and all but a few of the other conspirators were there with him already, though none of them shared his same interest in eating.

"And who is this?" Casstian asked, setting his fork and knife aside when he saw Parmo and the archers approaching.

Parmo gestured for the captain of the archers to speak first.

"I am Tharon Phaedros, new Captain of the Royal Archers, Your Majesty," the man said. "I regret to inform you that my predecessor, Ras Ambros, is dead, slain by the hand of Wulfram."

"So I have been told," Casstian replied. "You are to be commended, Captain, and are hereby promoted to the rank of First Constable for your deeds tonight. The men who accompanied you tonight are promoted two ranks and given all the wages and privileges afforded to such. Thank you, gentlemen."

The archers bowed thankfully and moved to the side, for already the King's attention was on Parmo. In fact, Casstian had recognized Parmo the moment he set foot into the mess hall. His face looked strangely familiar to him, yet he could not say who he was or how he knew him.

"You, sir," Casstian said. "You are the one called Parmo?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Parmo answered with a polite bow of his head.

"My men tell me you are the one who organized them and strategized my release."

"I merely facilitated the meeting," Parmo replied. "Your men found one another and devised the individual components of our plan. I did little more than storm the houndkeeper's tower."

"Your modesty is unfounded. Taking the tower is no small feat itself, and I'm inclined to believe your role was larger than that. And yet you are clearly not Pyrthinian. Who are you, if I may ask, and of what concern to you was my release?"

Parmo hesitated. With all the work he had done to engineer Casstian's release, he had neglected to consider what he would say to the King now that he was free. "Rufous has told you what befell Pyrthin's Flame, I assume?" Parmo asked, sidestepping the King's question altogether.

"Yes. He says you swear that my daughter was abducted from the ship before it sank."

"That is my belief," Parmo confirmed. "The princess had befriended my granddaughter, and when I discovered the ship was burning, I went to rescue them first. Their cabin was empty, and there was no sign of violence or struggle. I am certain they were bore away on the strange flying ship we spotted afterward, as outlandish as that may sound. And hence my concern with your release, your Majesty. We are joined in purpose to find our kin."

Casstian narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat. "What I find outlandish is that you claim to have a granddaughter—you who are less than half my age and barely old enough to have children of any age."

Parmo swore inwardly at himself for forgetting his own story.

"Well?" Casstian asked. "Who are you, really? I will have the truth."

Parmo sighed and decided that nothing would serve but the truth at this point. Part of it at least. We are at war with the Emperor now, he conceded, and Casstian needs to know who I am if I am to be of any help.

"My name is Parmenios Pallma."

Casstian shook his head. "That's impossible. The Pallma bloodline was extinguished thirty-odd years ago."

"So the Emperor has said and so he believes, but I live." Parmo closed his eyes and recalled the scene that had nearly faded into his memory. "I was at sea when Wulfram and Guderian attacked Sol Valaróz and killed my family. I received warning barely in time when my ship reached the harbor. I was rash and meant to fight and avenge my family, but my crew would not allow it, and they threw me overboard as Guderian's men boarded my ship. The Sargothians fired arrows at me, but I was a strong swimmer in my youth. I went under and held my breath as long as I could then surfaced at the transom of the ship, concealed by the rudder. I stayed hidden there all day, then in the cover of night swam to a merchant ship at a pier across the harbor and climbed aboard as a stowaway for seven days in the harbor and two weeks more at sea before slipping away in Pyrvino. The Emperor's men never found my body, but they declared me dead nonetheless, figuring I must've been shot or drowned."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Casstian demanded. "Parmenios Pallma would be twice your age if he were alive."

"I am not as young as I look—I am sixty-four years old, Your Majesty. I myself find it hard to believe, but the passage of time has somehow been turned back in me by the hand of a sorceress. I have lived a life of modesty in hiding since my escape; I married, had children, a grandchild, and grew old. Then somehow, beyond my comprehension, I awoke young again. I cannot explain it, but it is the truth. Do you not recognize me, Casstian? We met once when you were still a boy."

Casstian shook his head, still not believing it.

"Look at my sword," Parmo said, handing his weapon over hilt first. "The blade bears the crest of Pallma on it."

"That makes you nothing more than a thief."

"Recall then the time I visited Kal Pyrthin," Parmo said. "You were no more than seven perhaps, but you joined your father and mine on a boar hunt. I rode at the rear of the procession with you, and one of the boars escaped the hunters' spears. You were unhorsed as our fathers made chase after it, and in your fright you began to cry. But you were too proud to let your father or anyone else see. I offered to help you up, but you stubbornly refused and made me swear your tears to secrecy."

"How could you possibly know that?" Casstian asked, the memory coming back to him quite clearly.

"Ihave kept that secret until this day, Casstian, and would have kept it secretstill if there were any other way to prove my identity. I know it is hard tobelieve, but I am Prince Parmenios Pallma, the rightful King of Valaróz."

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