Chapter 55: Traitor

Tia's world shattered into a million pieces around her. Her knees became weak, and would have buckled if her arms were not still cinched in Sarpanit's steely grip.

It was... Mommu?

"No...no!" she shouted. Her voice sounded foreign; her body wasn't hers. "No! I refuse to believe you!"

The Gwentians around her began to mutter amongst themselves, but all Tia could hear were Sarpanit's last words echoing in her mind. Her brain was numb, not processing what was going on. Her hands shook as she clutched at her chestnut-coloured hair.

No... no, no, no!

Another boy rushed up, and the first messenger raced away again. This boy was freckled, with down-like hair and pink cheeks.

"Lahar!" he said, breathless.

"What is it?" The king turned to him at once.

"Nabu told me to fetch you – they've apprehended two of the leaders of the group of people."

"They attacked?" Sarpanit's tone was sharp. Tia looked up, dumb. The princess's deep blue eyes were staring at the young boy, who shook his head.

"No, they just approached us." Mommu was the traitor. He sold us all out. "They had no weapons on them." He sided with the ones who killed Master Anu. He supported the ones who killed Ki and Master Marduk. "They said they wished to talk to the king. Nabu asked for you to come immediately, Lahar."

Sarpanit frowned. Without another word, Lahar took off. His heavy leather outfit appeared to not impede his progress in the slightest; his daughter was quick at his heels. Finding the strength back in her feet, Tia lurched after them, still dazed.

Her thick boots caught on almost every step. Her heart was heavy as stone. Mommu was the traitor? It was impossible. They grew up together. She knew him better than anyone else. Mommu was sweet, dedicated, honest, and good. He could never side with the Mawlinese, particularly after they had killed so many of their people.

Our choices may conflict, but you must follow your heart. Mommu's words from time long gone echoed in her mind. She shook her head and realised that she had reached the high wooden drawbridge that overlooked the northwest of Gwent. Below them was a steep drop of sharp wooden stakes. She had never seen it in action – in fact, she had only heard about the defence fortress that was Sciennes moments before they had set off from Abaddon – and she longed to never see used.  The bridge was drawn back up. Beyond the gaps in the stone wall, Tia could see a huge group of men standing still, dressed in tattered clothing.

Those could not be Mawlin soldiers, surely? she thought incredulously, distracted.

"What is your purpose here?" Lahar's heavy tone brought her back to reality. She caught up with the Gwentian king and his advisors.

Just over the old king's shoulders, she could see sand-coloured, curly hair that was matted and dirty. She moved closer. A half-healed gash ran down one cheek. There was dirt streaked across the face which had thinned. Prominent cheekbones jutted out where the features used to be round, and the skin was more tanned. The familiar grey eyes were serious and held no trace of the usual laughter, but they lit up at the sight of her.

"You treat us with such courtesy, despite your evident mistrust," said a dry voice that was equally familiar. Tia's heart soared at the sight of her other beloved friend. Those intense, pale eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before locking on the Gwentian king again.

"Why would they be suspicious?" Mommu whispered. Sarpanit looked hostile, scrutinising them with a hardset mouth. One look at the genuine bewilderment on his open face and Tia knew for certain that he was innocent, despite what Sarpanit suspected.

"You're a Windcaster, aren't you?" Lahar asked in a quiet voice. Enlil stared at him for a few seconds before his thick eyebrows rose and he let out a breath.

"I see." He observed the faces of the king and his advisors with a knowing smile. "You think Mommu is the Windcaster who sided with Mawlin, do you not?"

"What?" Mommu looked horrified. "That – what?" He seemed at a loss for words.

"You're telling us otherwise?" Lahar kept a steady gaze on the freed slave. Enlil, tall and strong, stood his ground.

"I assure you, Gwentian King, he most certainly is not the traitor." His voice was even and neutral. The maturity he emanated was very different to the Enlil Tia knew. "As you can see for yourself, our group are all slaves and are barely armed. I believe our most powerful weapon is a rusted shovel." He pulled his wrist guard out, exposing the horrid Dernexan brand upon his skin. "And I have information that you may find useful. Perhaps through that, we may earn your trust."

The king eyed him with an unreadable expression. Tia held her breath.

"I'm listening."

Enlil pointed to the east. "As you very well know, five days' journey from here is Elder Down, the City of Ashes. Mawlin has plans to stage a false invasion via the southern Dernexan-Gwentian border. A sizeable group has been created specifically for that purpose, at the cost of a smaller main army. They aim to distract your army to stand firm at Colchain and then to utilise the sandstorm and mask their invasion via the northern border, taking down Sciennes and making their way to Abaddon."

"What is your source for this?"

"Let us just say that slaves are often overlooked in many things in life," Enlil said, with a curl of his lips.

"Even so, that is illogical; we have more than enough men stationed at Colchain without need for the whole army as reinforcement."

"Not when the snowstorm has conveniently wiped out a significant portion of available men there."

Lahar sucked in a breath. Tia's eyes flicked from the king's surprise to Enlil's collected, cool expression. She wasn't sure what was going on. Mommu wasn't the traitor; that much she knew in her heart. And Enlil, as promised, had brought the freed slaves to help Gwent.

She was still reeling from Sarpanit's words. She had thought it was Mommu all along? That would explain why she was so wary about Tia's optimism.

I cannot believe she thought he was the traitor, she thought to herself, twisting her gloved fingers in front of her.

"How did you know that?" the king said in a hoarse voice. Enlil nodded at Mommu, who straightened up. He had truly gotten thinner since the last time she saw him. His moon face had shrunken and his clothes hung more loosely on his frame. His cheeks had lost the pink glow, but there was a greater air of confidence around him.

"I Heard the Windcaster Casting the spell that summoned the storm. I am guessing the Caster is at least of Level four; it was magic that neither Tia nor I are able to do. However, he is no higher than Level five, for he still relies upon natural disasters to release that energy. Did you not find the occurrence of the storm a bit too fortuitous?"

From the silence, Tia guessed it had struck them, although she was none the wiser.

"And this–" Mommu swept his arm behind him, indicating at the swirling beginning of a sandstorm in the distance. "–is the start of the next spell, summoning a greater sandstorm to utilise the one already there. Ask Tia. She can sense it too."

Tia swallowed as the eyes of the advisors, Lahar and Sarpanit landed on her. She slid her staff from her back and placed it on the ground, ignoring the look of surprise on her friends' faces, and closed her eyes. She fanned out her senses and then focused them directly at the sandstorm.

The sound was so harsh, and much stronger than it was the last time she had Heard. She stilled her mind and tuned in as best as she could. There was more beyond the coarseness of the flying sand and dust. The flow was unnaturally smooth; the song the Wind was singing was structured and neat.  It was also getting louder, at far too steady a pace for a natural occurrence alone.

"It is not wholly natural," said Tia, withdrawing from the Wind. She glanced over her shoulder at Lahar and nodded. "I speak the truth, Lahar; believe me even if you doubt Mommu and Enlil."

The king's deep blue eyes, the same shade as his daughter's, surveyed her with gravity. After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed and ran a hand through his greying red-brown hair. "I believe you, Tiamat. You've earned our trust already."

"So... you believe me when I say that Mommu is not the traitor?" she said with hope. Lahar nodded.

"It seems his information is indeed correct. Have we had word from Colchain?"

"Not yet, Lahar," answered one of the messenger boys.

"We shall send adequate reinforcement. You – Enlil, is it?"

Enlil nodded. He stood half a head taller than the king.

"We have enough armour for all of your men. Ask them to prepare themselves. We leave within the hour."

"Yes, your Highness."

The advisors and Lahar peeled away, talking in low tones amongst themselves. Sarpanit dawdled, uncertainty on her face, her blue eyes darting between the faces of the three friends.

"I suppose... I'm sorry. I jumped to conclusions too quickly," she muttered. Tia smiled and clasped the older girl's hands.

"It is all right. You did what you thought was best."

The princess nodded and hurried off.

Tia turned, her eyes gleaming and her heart about to burst, and flung her arms around her two friends. She squeezed them as tight as she could, barely suppressing a squeal of delight as the familiar sounds of their quiet laughter filled her ears. Their flesh and muscles felt so real in her embrace. She loosened her grip and looked up; they had both grown taller and thinned during their time apart, but the warmth in their eyes and their grins were unmistakable. She was so happy she felt like she could fly. Wordlessly, she hugged them again, giggling. She felt hands pat her back and ruffle her hair.

"It is good to see you too, Tia."

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