by James Somers
The soldiers escorted Daniel and his companions to an imposing building. What the structure lacked in beauty it appeared to make up for in practicality. The building had high turrets scattered along the corners on the rooftop. From these, soldiers could rain down a barrage of arrows upon anyone who managed to storm the walls and overrun them.
No other building in the city looked like this one. The dragon scale shingles had been laid doubly thick upon its every surface. This must be Turin’s castle. Daniel leaned over to Louie. “That place looks like an old dragon itself.”
“Aye, lad, but I hope the king living within it is fairer tempered. I’ve never met this Turin personally, but I’ve heard of his many battles.”
Daniel patted his shoulder and smiled. “If he’s a friend of Marissa and her father, then he couldn’t be bad.”
Marissa crept up beside him without Daniel even realizing it. “That is Turin’s Keep. And you’re right, Daniel, Turin is an old friend and a great man.”
“It’s not quite a palace, like I would have expected a king to dwell in,” Daniel said.
“No, but then you would have to know King Turin,” she said. “He’s a soldier through and through and doesn’t care much for the pomp or fanfare of royalty. I like and respect him for that. In many ways he reminds me of my father.”
“What do you think he will tell us?”
“I’m not sure, but being an ally and friend of my father from years ago, I would say he intends to ferry us on our journey without causing us further delay. Hopefully, we’ll also have our weapons returned to us for the voyage.”
The group continued their march until they entered Turin’s Keep. It suddenly struck Daniel how many dragons must have been slain to get all of these skins. He wondered how the dragons must loathe this town and its king. Their skins, after all, covered all of Gennedy’s buildings.
On the other hand, he imagined what sort of king, Turin must be. He had to be a mighty warrior indeed to have taken all of these trophies. And yet his practicality shone through as Marissa had said by his use of those trophies to protect his people from attack.
As they proceeded deeper inside the building, it became much brighter. Daniel noticed a number of skylights where light filtered through. Carefully placed mirrors mounted to the walls high over their heads brought more sunlight into the keep. They had so many beams of light being redirected around the large chambers that it almost seemed like the roof had been lifted off for the brightness of it.
Flat, smooth stones covered the floor and ornate rugs bearing scenes of battle upon them directed their path through the keep. Daniel wondered if the history of Gennedy played out here, direct from the weaver’s loom. Elegant tapestries hung from the walls and similar scenes had been captured in their heavy fibers for all to view.
The soldiers led them through another hall which terminated into a throne room. Turin’s throne stood at the far end of the room. Daniel stared at it. He wondered why the seat remained empty when they were expected. Could the king actually be late?
From somewhere among the shadows and tapestries, hanging beyond the throne, a man appeared. He was somewhat short and thin with salt and pepper colored hair, at least what was left of his hair: wispy on top and fuller on the sides. The man walked with a cane and instantly Daniel felt let down by his expectations of King Turin.
Daniel noticed Marissa watching the man, but she didn’t look very pleased to see him. “I am the king’s steward,” the man said, leaning now upon the head of his cane. “My name is Horace Scribble, but you may call me Mr. Scribble.”
Marissa stepped toward the steward, away from the others. “Mr. Scribble, I was under the impression we were meeting with King Turin.”
“The king is indisposed of late and has entrusted me with handling his affairs,” he said.
“Is King Turin unwell? My father and he have been—”
“Miss,” Mr. Scribble said with mild annoyance, “as steward I’m quite busy, obviously. Now, if I might know your business in Gennedy?”
Marissa fumed silently. She had been dismissed by a lackey. Nevertheless, they needed his help if it was the only help to be had.
“Mr. Scribble, I am the daughter of Nicholas, King of the Bard Elves,” she said, trying to contain her frustration. Horace Scribble remained indifferent to her title. Daniel recognized a turf war when he saw one.
Marissa continued. “My company and I are on a quest to find the Wielder so that he may join us in our war against Mortis. We request passage across the Waron Sea to the city of Corsica.”
“I’m afraid that is quite impossible at the moment,” Mr. Scribble said with a wave of his hand. “All shipping across the Waron has been temporarily suspended. There have been numerous attacks by pirates, of late.”
“But what about the king’s ship, the Andromeda?”
“The king’s personal vessel is not for use by anyone except the king and those personally designated by the king,” he said.
“But this is a matter of dire importance to the entire Living Land. Without the assistance of the Wielder, none of us has any hope of defeating Mortis. We must—”
Mr. Scribble held up his hand to silence Marissa—big Mistake.
“Mr. Scribble, I will not be dismissed by an executive assistant,” Marissa said, unable to contain her irritation with the man any longer. The others simply gawked at the exchange taking place.
“Executive assistant, indeed!” Mr. Scribble fumed.
“This is a matter determined by King Nicholas himself. My father has been a valuable ally to King Turin for many years, and I’m sure he would be very upset to know the kind of disrespectful treatment I have received today.
“Metamen attacks along the coast have made it quite impossible to journey to Corsica by the seaside road. But it is of vital importance that we get there and continue our quest for the Wielder before Mortis overruns our cities…including Gennedy!”
“Be that as it may, I am still in charge of the king’s affairs within this city, and it is quite impossible—”
“HORACE!” a voice boomed from the back of the room. Marissa and Mr. Scribble both hushed instantly. Everyone turned to find King Turin emerging from an antechamber door.
The king appeared poor in health. A young woman, apparently a nurse of some kind, supported him by the arm, walking with him on his left side.
“Your Highness,” Mr. Scribble said, his demeanor immediately turning submissive. “You should be in bed, Sire. I’m more than happy to handle this matter for you.”
The king remained stone-faced, his bushy white brows furrowed in consternation. A long white beard hung to his chest, partially obscuring his royal robes. The intricately designed crimson was velveteen in appearance with the crest of his family embroidered upon the arm. He leaned upon a crutch under his right arm. The once mighty King Turin had become a frail old man.
“The Bard Princess is a personal friend of mine,” King Turin said. “She will not be dismissed with such apathy!”
“But, Sire—”
“You will remember your place, Horace Scribble, or you will be dismissed from my charge.”
“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness,” the steward said, bowing low before the king. He turned to Marissa with the same humility. “Please accept my sincere apologies, Your Highness. I meant no disrespect.”
“Yes, you did,” Marissa said calmly. “However, I’ll overlook it this time.”
“Thank you, My Lady.” He turned and bowed himself again before the king, then went out from them in haste.
“It’s so hard to find good help these days,” King Turin said lightheartedly. “Now, come, Marissa. Let us go to my study and discuss your needs in private.”
“And my companions?” she asked, looking at Daniel and the others.
“Marie,” he said to the nurse, “if you would be so kind, please escort the others to my personal dining hall and have Cook fix them whatever they like while we discuss this business.�
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She immediately complied, leaving the king in Marissa’s care. She took up the place where Marie had been standing in order to help the king as the two walked back into the king’s antechamber.
Daniel watched Marissa leave as the king’s nurse, Marie, asked them all to follow her. Meineke nudged the boy when he lingered after Marissa. “Come on, Daniel, Marissa can take care of herself. We’ve got a meal fit for a king waiting for us. Guess who’s coming to dinner,” he chuckled and rubbed his furry little hands together as Daniel followed after.
THE KING’S FAVOR
Within King Turin’s study, shelves stood all around the walls filled with books of every sort. Books half the size of a man contained handwritten parchments on many subjects. Marissa supposed that much of the history of the Living Land might be contained within the dusty tomes lining these walls.
The furnishings within the room were of good quality, but none of them spoke of royal ownership. True to his personality, Turin’s personal affects were ordinary. King Turin looked weary, and it seemed that perhaps his age had caught up to him.
Turin sat across from Marissa in one of the upholstered chairs sitting in front of the room’s hearth. A modest fire blazed within. Marissa noticed the king’s armor fastened to a mannequin in one corner of the room. His sword sat on a display stand. Turin’s days of war were over.
“Not what you expected, eh?” King Turin asked.
“Excuse me, Sire?”
“I’m not nearly as old as your father, but you elves handle your age better than we humans do.”
Marissa nodded. She felt embarrassed for allowing her thoughts to be displayed so plainly in her expression.
“Even my servants, like Mr. Scribble, would have me to sit back and let them rule the city without me.”
“What of your son, Jonathan?”
“His vessel was taken by pirates over a year ago,” King Turin said. “We’ve heard nothing since, no ransom demands or anything. I can only assume that treacherous Captain Blackborne killed him when they took the ship. He’s been a menace to our shipping lanes ever since he appeared five years ago.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear of your son. Is there no way to pursue this pirate and bring him to justice?” she asked.
“Alas, we’ve tried a number of times. This Nathaniel Blackborne was once a military man by trade and he is very clever in battle. He began his pirating career with one frigate and turned that into another three at our expense. With the Andromeda on the water we have managed to sink one of those, but that’s all.
She’s a fast ship with a hide tougher than any on the water. Even Blackborne hasn’t been able to take her. This is the ship I will have ferry you across the Waron Sea to Corsica.”
“Then you’ll help us?”
“Of course, my dear. I could never deny the daughter of my closest ally and friend,” King Turin said. “Your father has saved my life many times over the years. This is the least I could do. Tell me, Marissa, how is Nicholas these days? It has been far too long since I’ve seen him.”
“He is well, but the trouble with Mortis has caused him great distress. My father is attempting to raise an army. I believe he intends to call the Griffin Riders back into service to fight against our enemy.”
“Ah, the glory of the fight! I wish I could join him one last time on the battlefield. I was never much for riding griffins, but I did well upon a horse, you know?”
“I remember, Sire. You both were matchless warriors and clever strategists without compare. It is sad that Mortis has come during this time and not those days when you rode with your mighty army and were undefeated.”
The king seemed to reflect upon those days of glory. A glimmer of sadness flashed in his eyes. “Time is the real enemy, isn’t it, Marissa? Every high hill and mighty city and every proud warrior will fall given enough time.”
“Sadly, this is true, Sire.”
They sat for a moment, listening to the crackle of the fire. “Well, my ship and anything else I have that might aid you is at your disposal,” King Turin said.
Marissa smiled “It will be much appreciated.”
“I will have your weapons returned to you after dinner and then tomorrow you will depart with the Andromeda. We lost her former captain recently, but the crew still managed to repel the attack and get the ship back home safely. It would be a dreadful thing to lose so mighty a vessel to those awful pirates. We’d have no hope of stopping them then.”
“So, you have a new captain?”
“Yes, he arrived in our port two days ago and went straight to the task of examining new recruits for his crew. His name is Samuel Hester and he comes highly recommended by the King of the Eastern Realm. One of his finest sea captains, I’m told. You will meet him. He’s seems a decent fellow and is quite the dashing ladies man as well. I’m told all the young maids are pining after him. You should consider marriage yourself one of these days, young lady. I’m sure Nicholas would be pleased to have grandchildren playing at his feet.”
Marissa blushed at the suggestion. She had no time for such matters. Her thoughts were briefly taken back to a suitor she had declined. He too was handsome and powerful beyond any mere mortal’s abilities, but she had a duty to her people and to the Living Land. With war upon them, all other matters had to be delayed. Defeating Mortis was the most important thing right now and all other considerations were subordinate to it. If she could not find the Wielder, all would be lost.
“I thank you for your concern, Sire, but my duty defending the Land must take precedent over my personal aspirations,” Marissa said, respectfully. “I would warn you as well, Sire. We are come to Gennedy because the way around the Waron has been overrun by metamen. They are apparently engaged in a campaign against the coastal fishing villages, but they could just as easily make their way to Gennedy.”
King Turin smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Marissa. However, we are quite safe from Hannibal and his cyborgs behind these sturdy walls. He has tried many times to take this city, only to be fiercely repelled on each occasion. Now, you will join your companions and have a fine meal with me. Then, tomorrow, you will all board my magnificent ship, the Andromeda, and Captain Hester will see you to the port of Corsica.”
“My lord, there is one other matter I would ask you about,” Marissa said. “Do you know anything about the coming of the Wielder, how we will know him, and so forth?”
“Only what the legends tell us, my child. Despite my many years, the coming of the Wielder is as much a mystery to me as any. I’ve seen other legendary warriors appear and disappear from the Land, but none of them could be compared to the Wielder in the scope of their power.”
“Do you suppose it is possible that the Wielder might already be among us in the Living Land and we simply have not recognized him?”
King Turin scrutinized the question. “You suspect someone in particular, my dear?”
“I’m not sure, my lord. I’ve seen things in the past few days which I’ve never witnessed before, and it troubles me,” Marissa said.
“These troubling events…they are focused upon a particular person?”
Marissa leaned even closer to the elderly king. He responded in kind, his eyes darting about the empty room as though someone might be listening in on their private conversation. “It’s the boy, my lord…when we first happened upon him, he knew nothing about the Living Land or how he came to be here among us. The wil found him unconscious on the surface of a frozen pond in the middle of Parengore—frozen despite the warm weather of spring which is upon us.”
Turin eyed her curiously, “And?”
“And we were attacked by Spider Elves within the forest. The boy is courageous of heart, but not a warrior in the least sense of the word. However, whilst he and the wil were on the run from the Spider Elves, the trees of Parengore groaned and swayed as in travail. The closer the harm came to the boy, the more pronounced this became. I was mystified by this at the ti
me and thought more of saving the boy from danger than examining the circumstances. Before I could get to him, one of the Spider Elves was upon him. To my astonishment, one of the old trees of Parengore became as animated as any living being and with one of its great branches it crushed the Spider Elf upon his mount.”
Turin looked astonished. “I must admit, I’ve never heard of such a thing. The power Mortis possesses to animate non-living things is the closest thing I’ve encountered to what you speak of. Did the boy conjure these happenings in some way?”
“If he did, I was not aware of it,” Marissa said. “Daniel seemed just as mystified by what happened as I was, but that’s not all.”
“Pray continue, my dear,” Turin insisted eagerly.
“When we reached the outskirts of Parengore, our group encountered a farming village completely burned out. We fought with a dragon that had apparently carried out the massacre. But when the beast laid eyes on the boy, it immediately left off fighting with us to attack him.”
“And?”
“Air as calm as that in this room whipped up to gale force in a matter of seconds, sweeping the beast away from the boy before it could have him,” Marissa said. The retelling of the events actually sent chills of excitement up and down her spine. “When the dragon regained itself and immediately went for the boy again, ignoring all others, it was struck down by a fierce barrage of lightning which slew it.”
Turin sat with his mouth agape and his eyes wide. “And you’re sure the boy is not a conjurer of foul spirits and wicked devices?”
“I’ve always been able to discern such things in people. The boy appears to be clueless as to how these things happened. Frankly, my lord, he was scared to death on both occasions and claims to know little more than the fact he is to make some quest through the Living Land in search of answers. I don’t even think he was aware of Mortis or the war we are fighting.”
“These are strange circumstances indeed. Tell me, do you believe this boy could be the Wielder?”
“I’m not sure what to think. It just seems that the Wielder would be aware of his power and be a mighty warrior at the least…this boy is neither.”
King Turin considered the matter for a moment, scratching at his long white beard. “I’m afraid we don’t really know enough about the coming of the Wielder to make any sure judgments in the matter. However, if the boy is the Wielder, then perhaps Iam has placed him in your capable hands to prepare him for the task.”
“What? My king, surely you jest with me.”
Turin’s face gave no indication of any such frivolity. “My dear, I’m quite serious. Iam often does things in such a way as to be mysterious to us until we look back and are able to see the wisdom of the matter. We do not know for certain that this boy is the Wielder, but it certainly appears that strange powers are at work around him. He could, at least, be a powerful ally in this war with Mortis.”
“Even if that were the case, he has no skill with that power. He’s not a warrior.”
“But, my dear, he does find himself in the company of warriors.”
Marissa considered that statement. The king, as always, saw through to the heart of the matter and to the possibilities. At that moment she was reminded that the strength of great kings such as Turin was not merely contained in their arms, but in their minds.
“Marissa,” King Turin continued, “consider that a diamond begins as a simple lump of coal. It is only with sufficient pressure that the gem inside is realized and released. And then it is the hardest of substances known to us.”
Marissa smiled and placed her palm over the King’s withered hand. He was frail and feeble, but he still reminded her of her father. And she hoped to be back within the courts of the Bard King very soon. She had much to consider. Still, the only sure way of knowing the identity of the Wielder was to get to the realm of her father’s people so he could decipher the ancient document she possessed.
A CURIOUS DINNER
Marissa and King Turin made their way slowly down the arched hallway leading from his personal study to the king’s main dining hall. Marissa kept pace with the elder man, allowing him to lean upon her arm for support as needed. He patted her hand along the way, jabbering the entire time about days long gone when Turin and Marissa’s father, Nicholas, were young men fighting side by side in various conflicts across the Land.
Marissa listened politely and did not interrupt him. She supposed that, like her father, Turin simply didn’t have many people with which he could share his stories and thus relive his youthful days as a mighty man of valor. Such were the days of those who grew old—looking back to what was and realizing, sadly, that days spent could never be lived again.
The pair came to the large archway leading into the formal dining room and entered. The entire band of Marissa’s company sat at a large circular table in the middle of the room. Daniel sat between Meineke and a man she did not recognize. The man was polished and handsome, for a human, and he wore formal military clothing. His sandy hair hung just below his shoulders and had been secured in a ponytail by a gold circlet.
The man had chiseled facial features and his dark blue uniform with its tan trousers and gold buttons upon the breast gave him a regal look. When her emerald eyes met his sparkling sapphires from across the room, she thought she might have actually blushed. Marissa avoided his gaze at that point, pretending to take stock of her group of warriors. All of them seemed oblivious and greeted the Bard Princess with salutations through the food stuffed inside their mouths.
Their group had not had such splendid food and drink in some time and the lot of them were thoroughly enjoying the king’s hospitality. Turin stared at Daniel until he realized Captain Hastings was present, having accepted an earlier invitation. The king began to point out the handsome stranger to Marissa, furthering her embarrassment.
“Marissa, this is our new captain of the Andromeda. May I present Captain Samuel Hastings,” Turin said. Marissa and the king made their way around the table to where the man was sitting next to Daniel. Captain Hastings responded immediately to the introduction. He stood and took Marissa’s hand, gently lifting it to bring his pursed lips to the flesh.
A shiver overtook her when the captain made this gesture. No one had ever done this before and it made her inquisitive and nervous all at the same time. “My lady, the pleasure is all mine,” Captain Hastings said. He kept eye contact with her the entire time of the introduction, and Marissa felt almost powerless to turn away from him.
What am I doing? she wondered.
“Captain Hastings, may I present Marissa, daughter of King Nicholas of the Bard Elves,” King Turin said.
Captain Hastings looked genuinely intrigued. “A princess?” A devilish smile played across his lips. “Your Highness.” Hastings bowed low at the waist with an exaggerated sweeping motion of his hand, almost touching the floor in the process.
Marissa felt instantly embarrassed. She considered herself a warrior first and a princess incidentally. The captain was toying with her.
“Captain Hastings,” she responded, trying to maintain perfect monotone in her voice and an air of polite indifference. Hastings grinned again. She wondered if her eyes had given away her curiosity with the man.
Daniel got up from his chair next to Captain Hastings and motioned for Marissa to accept it. “Here you go, Princess. I’ll sit over here on the other side of Meineke.”
“Really, Daniel, that’s quite all right—”
By the time she had completed her protest, Turin had already delivered her into the chair. Captain Hastings quickly maneuvered around to the high-back of her chair and scooted her up to the table. She reluctantly complied. Everyone stared at her.
Marissa’s elf companions observed the exchange curiously. On the other hand, the human warriors remained too interested in their food to care. Daniel and Meineke tried to compose their giggling as though a private joke had just been shared between them at her expense. And Louie gave her a look which
let Marissa know he was especially enjoying her discomfort with the situation.
“Now, what were you discussing before we interrupted?” King Turin asked.
“Love,” Louie grunted under his breath.
If looks could kill, Louie might have just found himself a victim of Marissa’s penetrating stare. Daniel and Meineke howled out loud with laughter, unable to contain it any longer.
Garth, one of the elf warriors, remained passive. “I believe, Sire, we were discussing the possibility of having to face this pirate, Nathaniel Blackborne, in battle on the open sea.” Garth had little use for joviality.
Everyone became serious at the mention of the dread pirate’s name. “The Andromeda is a fine ship, the best I’ve ever known,” King Turin said confidently. “She’s the mightiest ship sailing on the Waron Sea to be sure and a fast seabird. Blackborne hasn’t taken her yet.”
“Neither shall he have her while I’m commanding her, Sire,” Captain Hastings added.
“Who is Nathaniel Blackborne anyway?” Daniel asked. “Are there really actual pirates here: Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum, flying the Jolly Roger, and all that jazz?”
“I’m not sure about that Yo-ho-ho thing, Daniel, but they’re definitely drunkards,” Meineke said with unfeigned seriousness.
Louie shook his head at the wil. “Blackborne is a scourge upon the seas. He takes no prisoners: man, woman, or child,” he said, looking now at Daniel. “He’s a ruthless killer; a bloated fat pig of a man who feasts upon the flesh of his victims.”
Daniel tried to swallow a lump in his throat with difficulty. The thought of potentially running into such a person on the open sea with a gang of bloodthirsty pirates at his command did not appeal to Daniel one little bit.
“Well, I don’t hear anything about wils in there,” Meineke said as he patted Daniel playfully on the shoulder, looking at Louie. “But you guys are toast!”
“No, what he does to wils if far worse, I hear,” Louie continued. “For Blackborne comes by his name honestly. It’s said he was born of a jackal mother and raised by a black hearted sorcerer. He conjures over a wil, invoking demons to shape shift the poor things with such ferocity that they eventually die. Their forms are nothing but mush when he’s finished with them.”
Captain Hastings coughed on the drink he had just taken from a golden goblet, almost spewing the wine across the table. The pink flushed right out of Meineke’s cheeks. The visions Louie’s tales stirred in his mind were terribly unsettling—enough to ruin his appetite. And it was quite an accomplishment for a wil to lose his appetite.
“I’m sorry, Captain Hastings,” Marissa said. “My companions tend to exaggerate a bit.” She wasn’t quite sure why she had bothered to apologize, or at least she wasn’t willing to admit the reason.
Captain Hastings leaned in close to Marissa, whispering to her as normal conversation began among the others. “Don’t worry, dear lady, I hear this Blackborne is actually more of a dashing scoundrel than an ugly brute.”
Marissa smiled. She noticed the Captain smelled quite good—certainly better than most of her companions, weary from a difficult quest. She had come to appreciate the fact that one’s sense of smell usually lost interest in an odor very quickly. So, she had become accustomed to the fragrant aroma of animal fur and man-sweat.
At last, everyone became quiet again as King Turin’s voice cut through the chatter. “Princess, you have a difficult journey ahead. If anyone can keep you safe on the sea, it is good Captain Hastings here. His naval record is impeccable. My Andromeda has withstood Blackborne before and I trust that, if necessary, she will do it again.
The group smiled at King Turin’s faith—even if they did so half-heartedly. King Turin would not be the one out upon the sea in the battle if they did happen to face Blackborne. The only true consolation was the fact that they were making a straight two day voyage across the Waron Sea to Corsica. The odds of this dread pirate, Nathaniel Blackborne, actually finding them in that short time were abysmal at best.