Fall of the kings, p.16
Fall of the Kings, page 16
“He did?”
“On Cho Nisi. If it hadn’t been for Princess Erika, I’d be dead, and my soul would be floating around as grub for the Vouchsaver.”
“I’m sorry, Vasil. That Skotádi, he hunts the nobles right hard. He sure had it in for the prince. Not sure of his aim. Never had a clue.”
“Skotádi’s looking for something. He had Sol crush me, hoping I’d break under the pain of broken bones, and tell him its location. But go on with your story. Where did Sol take you that night?”
“To Skotádi’s cavern. He had a fire goin’ in there that burned with no wood and the smell was unnatural, like flesh and spices mixed. Sol tied our hands and dragged us into the cave. Sat us down against the wall of the cavern and then went over to Barin. I saw Barin talkin’ to Skotádi. I couldn’t hear what they said, but suddenly Skotádi turned, stretched out his hand at us, and burned our ears, knockin’ us unconscious. Never had so much pain. Took a long time to get my hearin’ to normal after that.”
“Did he hurt Barin also?”
Stormy shook his head and hesitated. “I don’t think so. That’s when they agreed on somethin’. Our freedom. I think Prince Barin sacrificed his sanity, so we’d get to go home. That’s just what I think. When I came to my senses, we were no longer bound, and Barin told us to get up and start down the mountain.”
“It sounds like Barin made a deal for your lives.”
“Sure as the sun comes up in the mornin’,” Stormy agreed. “After that, Prince Barin came unhinged. Heard voices I guess tellin’ him the emperor had laid siege to the castle. He talked about killin’ the whole castle guard. Said they dressed up like our men to trick us. Lucky I told Commander Neal. He didn’t believe me at first. The commander and I and his troops rode off to Fairmistle to gather more men, and that’s when Rory showed up. Just in time, too. Rory said there wasn’t any siege and left ahead of us to warn the king. I guess Barin saw Rory and shot him in the back. Her Fairest Erika had to get Prince Barin into the palace without everyone killin’ each other.” Stormy’s voice tapered, and he wiped his eyes. “It’s not right. None of it. My brother’s a hero, no matter how you look at it. Saved Barin, saved the castle guard, saved the king.” He choked on those last words and wiped his nose with his sleeve, drawing in a breath afterwards and lifting his chin..
Arell rode silently. No words would take Stormy’s pain away, and he, too, felt grief all over again. Will there ever be good days ahead? Will the sorrow ever end?
“Sorry, Vasil,” Stormy breathed in deeply. “His highness Barin’s a good prince. Treated us right. Took care of us on our way down that mountain after we’d been half-starved and near froze to death. Didn’t lose a one of us on the way down and we could have all died. Wish the devil hadn’t messed with him. We could use King Barin on the throne right now.” Stormy rode quietly for a while but his expression betrayed his feelings. Finally, he sighed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve again.
“Barin’s the one that told his men to shoot Rory. But it’s not his fault. Skotádi possessed him. It’s just that I wished someone would have stopped Barin before he even left for Prasa Potama. I warned Commander Neal. I saw the devil had his mind. But who am I? Just a peasant from Fairmistle.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘just a peasant’. Your life is worth the same as anyone’s, Stormy. Never forget it,” Arell told him. “You’ve braved through more tragedy than most people. If they don’t listen to you, it’s because of their own short-sightedness, not because you aren’t worthy.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Is the prince still alive?” Stormy asked.
“Barin is alive, yes. I would like to see him on the throne as well. I thought perhaps if we knew Skotádi’s schemes, his secrets, the way he works, perhaps we could trip him up and release the hold he has on Barin.”
Stormy snickered. “Won’t be easy. Might have to kill him if he’s killable.”
“Yes.”
“What about your magic? The magic on the island. Rory talked about Cho Nisi magic. Said you all did wondrous miracles. Changed the course of the weather and pulled skura out of the skies.”
“The elders came to heal the prince. I’m afraid Cho Nisi’s magic did nothing for him.”
“Right shame.”
The sun had just settled on the horizon, but enough twilight filtered into the skyscape to see by. Arell stopped his horse and slid off, removed his doublet, and tucked it into his pack, laced his shirt tighter, and threw his cloak over his shoulders.
“The air’s going to get cold soon. Did you bring a coat? I thought we’d run the horses for a way to make up for the time we lost today. The breeze will be cold if we do.”
“No coat, but I can make do.” Stormy dismounted and pulled a blanket from his pack and fastened it with a broach around his shoulders. “We’ll see those Casdamians pretty soon. They’ve been makin’ their way west. Scouts told us.”
“Fairmistle has scouts?”
“Ever since the mountain giants came at us.”
“Well then, if the Casdamians are headed to Prasa Potama, all the more reason to make haste.”
They rode hard over the rolling hills. Arell had to hold Midnight back so that Frolic could keep up. Her legs were so much shorter. But they kept a smooth pace, leaping over gullies and galloping over the grasslands. When they reached the last of the hills, the prairie spread out before them, and they could see the peaks of Mount Ream and Casda de Moor. Arell reined in Midnight.
“Those mountains make my gut turn, sure as the goat gives milk,” Stormy said while squinting at the snow-covered peaks of Casda de Moor and its neighbor Mount Ream.
“I can imagine,” Arell whispered. “It gives me a shudder or two as well. My father died near Mount Ream. I can’t fancy what freezing in a cave on that mountain was like for you.”
Stormy stared at him. “You’re a lot like the prince,” he said. “At least before the devil got his mind.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. Easy to talk to. Kind. Reachin’ out where you don’t need to be.”
Arell shrugged off the flattery. “I never thought of myself as royal, never wanted to. When my father died, I told the elders of the island to take charge. I didn’t want to be a king.”
“You can do a lot more if you’re a king, though,” Stormy argued. “With a decent heart like yours, your island people will live peacefully.”
“I’m afraid it would take more than a good heart to ward off enemies, Stormy. Just look at your prince.”
Stormy shrugged, and the two rode side by side at a walk as night lowered its shadow over the land.
“I don’t know. A king ought to be kind to his people. That’s what he’s there for, isn’t it?”
“Of course, it is. But he also needs to be aware of his enemies. That was my problem when I ended up with a responsibility I wasn’t ready for. There are bandits, spies, and rebels everywhere, Stormy. You know that. Being kind isn’t the only virtue a king needs. The world isn’t a chalice of wine and a bowl of roses.”
“No,” Stormy whispered, gazing at the stars. “No. It’s not.”
Arell realized he had done the right thing by going to Fairmistle. Both he and Stormy had experienced great losses, even abandonment, and those mountains had been a witness to their injuries. He regarded Stormy while they rode. The lad sniffed but refused to break down again. Arell wouldn’t blame him if he did. He’d be right there with him.
The two journeyed on as twilight turned dark and one by one stars shone. With the stars came those same campfires Arell had seen on his way to Fairmistle, only this time there were many more, and they were closer to Prasa Potama. Multitudes of flickering lights spread over the countryside, and Arell could now distinguish tents in the grass and men moving around a campfire. He could hear voices, one loud voice in particular.
“Sounds like a chant,” Stormy whispered as they dismounted and found a ravine to hide in while they watched. Arell pulled out his spyglass and focused on the nearest campfire.
“Some sort of ritual,” he whispered.
Indeed, men dressed in robes moved about the fire. Strangely, they appeared to be Potamian wizards, for their cloaks bore the same markings as Kairos’ magician’s cloak. They had formed a circle and in the center of that circle a man stood with his hands in the air, his voice resonating across the plains. A bright light flashed around him, his chest heaved, and he cried out.
“What in the devil’s den are they doin’ to that man?” Stormy asked.
“I’m not sure.” Arell handed Stormy the reins to Midnight and crawled on his belly over the top of the ravine to get a closer look. Unfolding his spyglass and lifting it to his eyes, he could see clearer.
“Release me!” the man screamed, and another flash of white light coming from the wizards lit up the sky. The man bent over after that and fell, his body now concealed from Arell’s view by the cloaks of the wizards. Whatever they were doing, they finished. But Arell did not stop watching. Soldiers in dark armor took the man away, and then returned, bound the wizards’ hands behind their backs and took them from the firelight to a marquee set up nearby. Arell slithered back to the ravine.
“Let’s go,” he said. “The firelight will prevent them from seeing us.”
The King’s Daughters
“No one calls a Council meeting this late!” Erika barked at the page after he interrupted her evening ritual of brushing her hair and settling in for the night. “Father never did!”
“My pardon, Fairest. They said it was mandatory.”
“Mandatory? How dare they!” She fumed at the boy, and then recanted when his face flushed, he bowed his head, and stepped away from her. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to be angry at you. Very well,” she told him. “Tell them I’ll be there, but I’m not happy about it.”
He bowed. “They are in the drawing room, Fairest.”
She scowled, for she hated that room more than any other in the castle. “You’re dismissed,” she said, but stopped him when he opened the door. “Don’t tell them I’m unhappy. I’ll tell them myself. Thank you for bringing the message.”
When he dodged out of the room, Erika felt like a heel chiding the boy. But the men who called themselves advisors ruffled her feathers once too often. They are a council, not a ruling body! Even her father had told them so!
Erika donned her cloak and roared through the chilly halls, down the flight of spiral stairs, past the entryway, and into the adjacent drawing room, a chamber bearing obscene frescos. An artist-acquaintance, asked to make the dull, dark room more alluring during her grandfather’s reign, painted naked women surrounded by half-naked men on all four walls. She had begged her father to whitewash the images, but he only chuckled and told her she shouldn’t worry over the matter. Erika shielded her eyes with one hand when she stormed through the doors.
Olinda and Rhea sat in straight-backed chairs along the stained-glass windows. Father had arranged the furniture in the chamber in case he ever had an assembly for kings of other nations, but that hadn’t occurred since Erika had been born. The chairs were sturdy and beautifully designed but so uncomfortable no one ever wanted to sit in them.
Her sisters waved at her to join them. Lord Marlowe rose when she burst in, and he bowed. However, Lord Derby, of course, barely stood in courtesy. Lord Charles moved as if to rise, but never made it to an upright position. Erika received the message loud and clear; they now viewed King Tobias’ daughters as wards of the Council.
No man would bind Erika, nor remove her royal affiliation from Potamia. She and her sisters were still public figures, still the late king’s daughters, and still royalty. Even if Derby insisted they had no authority. Why were they invited to this session? She nodded to Lord Marlowe and glared at Derby as she walked in and strolled over to the twins. As soon as she sat down, the other members of the Council arrived and nodded to the sisters before taking their places. They rolled scrolls and parchments across the table and even a map. The men whispered among themselves. Olinda scowled, Rhea groaned. Erika watched the noblemen tentatively.
At last Lord Derby rose, covered his mouth with his fist, and coughed.
“Ladies,” he began. “You cannot imagine how busy the Council has been, what with so much to discuss these last few days. First, we want to extend to you our deepest sympathy for the loss of your father. His procession and burial will occur a week from Friday. Many noblemen from Prasa Potama and the college will attend the reception, and we expect that you’ll be greeting them.”
The girls exchanged glances. Erika’s blood rushed to her cheeks. They were to function as greeters, a servant’s duty at their father’s burial? Were Olinda and Rhea as offended as she?
“Greeting whom?” Erika asked. “We have servants who greet the guests. My sisters and I will attend, of course, but this reception is in honor of our father. The guests will offer condolences. We cannot be busied with opening and closing the doors. And let it be mentioned, Lord Derby, you’ll not demean our positions as the king’s daughters.”
Lord Derby’s eyebrows twitched, and he considered the scroll in his hands.
“Yes, well, you can settle that with the servants.”
“No! You can work it out with the servants. Our positions in this palace have not changed, neither have yours.”
Lord Derby cleared his throat and looked at the men. They avoided looking at the women, fidgeting with their notes. Those who had them, scratched their beards.
“I thought, since there were three of you, you could alternate.”
“No!” Rhea interjected.
“Very well. We can have a servant answer the door. I just thought it best if you were the first people our guests come in contact with.”
“Think again,” Olinda said, calmly fanning herself and blowing a curl from off her face.
“We plan to introduce you to several noblemen you may not be familiar with, but whom we, meaning myself and Lord Sylvester, can vouch for as honorable men; wealthy, wise and... unmarried.”
Erika stood. She had guessed this was coming after Lord Derby’s comment the other night. Rhea also jumped to her feet.
“That’s bold!” she said.
Olinda remained seated, still fanning herself, but she had grown pale and rested her head against the back of the chair.
“Lord Derby, neither I nor my sisters will be a part of your matchmaking schemes.” Erika said.
“My dear child! Someone needs to wear the crown. If none of you ladies consent to a proper marriage, the kingdom will fall. Is that what you want?”
“I’m engaged. I won’t surrender my vows from the man I love!” Rhea stated.
“Who might that be with, Lady Rhea?”
“Kairos. We’ve already made plans for our wedding day.”
The men mumbled, and Lord Derby laughed. “Kairos cannot be king. He’s a wizard and a somewhat incompetent one at that.”
“I honestly don’t care what your opinion of him is. We will wed.”
“Then perhaps we’ll take your name will be removed as prospective queen.”
“As will mine,” Olinda said. “I’m promised to Felix.”
“My dear lady, this is for the good of our kingdom.”
“I don’t care whose good it’s for. Felix and I are promised to one another.”
“Felix of Tellwater? Lord Garion’s son?” Lord Marlowe asked.
“Yes.”
“He plays a large role in the valley’s armed forces. Perhaps at a later date he would qualify as king, but now is an inopportune time to take him away from Tellwater. The area is under siege. He may even be a prisoner of Moshere’s. Until our troops reach Tellwater, we won’t know. Even if he remains a free man, we still need his military services.” Lord Marlowe said.
“Then don’t appoint him king, but I’m not marrying anyone else.”
All eyes turned to Erika.
“No,” Erika said bluntly.
“You would let your father’s kingdom fall because of insolence? Dear Erika. You of all people who have shown so much patriotism and allegiance to your country surely one more sacrifice—.”
“I’m marrying for love, not politics,” Erika claimed.
“You realize the King’s Council has authority over you, do you not?”
“No, I don’t realize any such thing. You gave yourself that authority, but my father did not. He appointed you to help him decide on matters, which he presented to you, while he lived. He never gave you permission to interfere with his daughters’ personal lives. You cannot force me to do anything my father would not have forced me to do, and that amounts to nothing. Father had a deep respect for his children’s wishes. What is next on your list of topics to discuss tonight?”
Lord Derby’s face grew bright red. “You don’t even know any of these young men we plan on introducing you to.”
“I don’t have to know them to know I won’t marry them.”
Lord Derby, his face flushed, spoke heatedly, as he held up his list in one hand and pointed to the map with the other. “Lord Rumford from the Northern province of Kolada. Owner of vineyards and the finest breed of horses in all Potama.”
“Also, your wife’s little brother,” Rhea added.
“That’s irrelevant. He’s a fine young man and worthy of your affection, Erika.”
“How dare you even speak of my affection!”
“There is Lord Stuart, equally fine. He works with his hands, an artisan. But he’s been a soldier and knows the battlefield stratagem as well as your brother does. He would probably let you draw sword and shield with him.”
“Isn’t he Lord Sylvester’s cousin? I remember Felix talking about Lord Stuart,” Olinda asked.
“You weasel!” Erika grabbed the list from Lord Derby and ripped it into shreds. “You care little for the kingdom other than your own gain. I have half a mind to take the crown for myself.”
The men watched the parchment float to the floor. No one fought her, though. They were too dignified for that, but she expected there’d be consequences.
