Chapter 20

"He was an aching voice; a cry against the deaf ears of the Government and deeds wrought before the blind eyes of the men, their prey.

But now, he was a quenched whistle blown away from the roots of his purpose; he was a listless zephyr."

~

The City of Descandville,

Kingdom of Hyll-Decanta,

Rainy Eventide,

The first Phrinight of the Second month,

Fiftieth Year of the Reign of Adon-Vericus IV

There was a candle's light amidst the hues of the night's darkness that allowed Jehu the pleasure of distinguishing the art of his surroundings:

He had found himself waking in the arms of a bed placed in the chambers of a cosy cottage room, large windows with their generous ledges bedecked with books. The glass thereof permitted the display of the streets and outdoors, where the rain poured ceaselessly.

There were also plants and ferns that were potted in the room for the sake of fresh air; some of their climbing vines spreading over the side of a table and the casement, delicately making detours along the residence of the books, as if those were articles consulted and dislodged in routine custom.

Jehu shifted to straighten his position and sit up. Just as he rose, there was a searing pain that shot from his shoulders and neck that rendered him to fall back against the head of his cot.

"Are you alright?" asked Michavel Ryder, who had arrived at the threshold from the sound of the dark-haired man's moan of pain.

Jehu looked up at the blond-haired man, vexed, like he hadn't the strength to answer such obvious questions. He had his arm clutching the back of his neck that was in impaling agony.

"You seem terribly", said the friend, concerned as his eyes washed over Jehu's unsightly appearance: dark hair dishevelled and curtaining his face as the vines that are draped over the arms and branches of a withering tree, its length reaching down to his waist.

Anguish and irritation were colours on his face, as one that was in pain and peckish from being awoken and disoriented.

The vision was even more intimidating when one would take into consideration, the fact that the most part of his appearance was a silhouette lit by a solitary candle's light at the side and the shadows of his veiling hair were dancing over his face to the lilt of the fire.

Jehu leaned forward, excruciation marking his every flex, until his sleek locks slipped in front. It was odd how some reached only to his collars and some to his chest, uneven with the longish mane behind.

The stretch of his hair, however, was hardly of relevance, given the grand amount of pain he seemed to have earned after his sentence to the pillory and the posture it had demanded of his body.

The piercing tendency of the agony made it difficult for the man to lean back against the head of the bed upright. "I must admit, I truly am, in physique", said Jehu, his voice shredded to raspy whispers.

He heaved a sigh and tried angling his arms in different positions, till he could infer which stance caused the blades of his shoulders to suffer the most intense spears of excruciation.

"You are fortunate this chamber is void of mirrors", said Michavel and Jehu chose to ignore the remark.

"How long was I unconscious?" asked he, looking up at his friend, pain assaulting his neck from the very motion of lifting his face.

The flames of the candle danced in the fair-haired man's honey-coloured eyes as he answered, "It has been a sunrise and a moonrise."

"That is far too long", said the long-haired man, seeming troubled. "It must have been the overdose of Rivenhove."

"Is that not the essence medics use to numb the senses of the portion of body being treated?" asked Michavel, seeming disconcerted for want of relevance in information.

"That is true, but there is more to the inherent attributes of the substance. When the scent of Rivenhove is inhaled at the advent of the first rains, its smell can intoxicate one's senses of consciousness into delirium's submission. Tristendyre saw its first forecasted showers that day, since three months", Jehu clarified, his mind still bothered by various considerations.

"Are you stating that you were rendered unconscious from the robust odour of Rivenhove?", asked the man with sunny brown eyes as he leaned against the frame of the door.

Jehu nodded. "It was curiously compelling a scent. Mister Joab Xavier, who lights the lanterns of the lampposts, must have been tipped to place candles burning the aroma of Rivenhove last night at Hazenvale, for the smell was sinister."

"How do you assume that you were satiated with a surfeit of its odour?", asked Michavel, crossing his arms.

"Jaycob visited me and fed me a direct overdose. Deceptive serpent, I highly do suspect he was the betrayer that told the men of Governance regarding my deeds as Nathan. And he was equipped with a scarf over his nose to stave off the threats of the aroma."

Michavel nodded slow, rubbing his jaw as he imbibed the facts.

"I did not see any such man when I had arrived at Hazenvale", said he, raking a hand through the curled shocks of his hair.

Jehu nodded massaging his temples and asked, "How had you supposed to redeem me of the pillory? Or that my execution was to be brought upon me the following dawn? I had not met you since a month. I reckoned you would be tediously engaged with the nuances of your Vigilantism here in Hyll-Decanta."

"Israel, from Tristendyre, had me informed and I deemed salvaging your life was far more imperative than our business. After all, the vision you had seen of your state at the pillory is not a memory that has escaped my constant vigilance", said Michavel.

"Who is Israel?", asked Jehu, brows still evincing creases from pain.

"I assumed you would have known of him. He seems to be of employment in the Castle of your kingdom. When I was ferreting out information for the sake of slavery in this land, about two weeks ago, I met a man from Tristendyre, by the name Israel, who had arrived on like business. A friend of his who was presumed to have been sojourning here was suspiciously nowhere within the scope of correspondence. The details of her whereabouts aren't spared for this conversation, however. Israel is one amongst the servers of the Imperial Regents of the Castle and State in your Kingdom and had received confidential information that your execution was to be jeopardised, for a man was appointed to assassinate you last night", said Michavel, concerned.

"And how did this Israel know you were of association with me?" asked Jehu, contemplative.

"Those are details kindred to profession. I will have you know of them when you have healed from your ailing condition, sufficiently to proceed with business", said Michavel. "Consider him vaguely a client."

Jehu nodded, pensively. His friend of many years was no less than absolutely dependable and there could be no guile against him rested in ambush behind the man's intentions.

"Micah...", the grey-eyed man began, suffering to phrase his words, for his thoughts were making a mastery of the events.

"I believe there were ulterior motives, for the assassination is likely to have been comprehensively deliberated before the performance. The very candles of the lampposts were ignited with Rivenhove in order to deprive the consciousness of all the inmates of Hazenvale, and that they hear not of happenings withal. The prospect of killing me secretively, directly prior to my execution, contradicts rational verdict. Further, the probability of failure to foredo me is barely potential."

"The shackles and the cangue were shattered by the hour I had arrived to retrieve your slumbering body", said Michavel. "There was also a man in the shadows watching stealthily until I had left. I had my hood drawn deep down, in masking my identity. I could not assume it was Israel, for in such case, he would have met me. I was prepared for the man to wage an attack, but he did not. It was difficult to deduct whether he was an ally or a foe and thus, negotiation was barely possible. Further, there was blood on the fissures of the stone. So my first impulse was to assume that you had been wounded."

Jehu's perception calmed at the mention of the fissures.

It meant his powers cast had begun taking effect indeed. It had been a terribly long period, but the Pillory has certainly been composed of a difficult mineral to discomfit.

"It is curious, however, that you were not in fact, foredone. The manacles were quenched and you truly were relieved. The predator for your life had no reason to leave you by, unless he was recklessly incautious whilst withdrawing to build your grave", Michavel concluded his statement.

There was a conflicted moment of reflective silence. The men had sufficient wit to discern that this was no mere event of inadvertence, but surreptitiously orchestrated affairs.

It was not news that Jaycob, the suspected assassin hired to end him was skilled in ways that he possessed supernatural powers, just as Jehu himself and Michavel, his partner in vigilantism.

Further, Jehu knew that if he was still with granted breath, his life would be counted as one that was of an escaped criminal, who was on death row.

He would inevitably have to face forthright execution upon being found. However, his present concerns weighted greater with regards to another:

"Those treacherous men will target my sister. I must save her", said he, his voice dripping with perturbation.

Cold winds howled outside, lashing their vigour against the brawn and fortitude of the trees. The rains continued ruthlessly, priding their vehemence in this season of their reign.

"Don't fret your cares; I assure you Gen will be safe. I will try my fortune in supervising the welfare of her conduct whilst you take your rest", said Michavel.

A smirk of fascination swept over his lips, as he spoke, "After all, a visit to Tristendyre would be a delightful advent at this time, for I had left the crest of our company there at the pillory."

~