Homecoming - The Prince's Legacy
Tull Harrison
Published by Tull Harrison, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
HOMECOMING - THE PRINCE'S LEGACY
First edition. September 11, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Tull Harrison.
Written by Tull Harrison.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23 - Epilogue
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Chapter 1
The hunter nocked and sighted his arrow. A flash of brown, and the doe jumped into the young man’s path, where he had anticipated it would. The tension in the doe echoed the tension in his slightly trembling arm. He released the arrow and the strain drained from his muscles. Air whistled over the arrow as it struck the animal behind the ear. Her knees buckled, and she fell over, all animation ceasing.
When he was hunting, it was the only time he had freedom. He had trained with the bow and the sword for as long as he could remember and was skillful at both. Though a better swordsman, he preferred the bow for its range.
After checking the doe, an old female past bearing, he hauled it over to the horse tethered nearby. Tying the final knot to secure his prey, he mounted and with a shrill whistle called the gyrfalcon back to his glove. The stallion, trained for battle, didn't even flinch as the bird flew in.
The falcon was unique, since he was so tame he required no gear. Delmer ran a loving finger over the falcon's head, and after a short while had to rest his hand on his knee because of the weight of the bird. Though he was approximately the same size as the other falcons of its kind, he seemed to be heavier.
Sighing, the young hunter headed back towards the city. At the edge of the forest he spotted a man in crimson and black, colors which identified him as one of the officials in the castle. Hesitantly, the hunter urged his horse towards the dense trees. Instead of brushing the branches aside as he normally did, he went around them, stalling for time. His fleet hound glanced up at her master as he gestured for her to go meet his visitor.
Emerging from the forest, the boy spotted his father's seneschal and most junior advisor. He shouldn't be out here. He never leaves the castle.
He could tell something was wrong, for suddenly a pleasant summer day turned cold and inhospitable. The fleet hound's silver-brown coat seemed to fade as the light dimmed, and the advisor's face was lined and strained. The young man spurred his war stallion, a dapple gray named Lancelet, and closed the gap to the seneschal in moments.
The seneschal paused, taking gasping breaths.
"Prince Delmer..."
Delmer clenched stared at the advisor expectantly. As the crown prince, he had been handled as if he were made of glass his entire life. His mother, Queen Miranda, had died when he was born, leaving him as an only child except for his foster sister Annabeth. That might be why his father was always seeking to keep him safe, but Delmer cherished his independence.
Besides, he was no weakling. Tall, with a lean but muscular build, he had blue eyes that were common on the coast. His dark brown hair was always ruffled, as he was nearly always moving.
The guards assigned to him had learned early that Delmer would lose them in the woods if they insisted upon dogging his every step. A new guardian was always sent out with the prince by the older guards just so he would get lost and return in confusion. Luckily, Delmer was kind-hearted enough to find his would-be protectors after he was done hunting. The guards allowed this because the prince never hunted dangerous animals; even so, it was a breach in policy.
This day he had especially wanted to be alone. It was the celebration of Malzepher's independence and there was to be a huge feast. Before the feast, it was tradition for the king to walk among the low-born and greet them. As crown prince, Delmer was supposed to be in attendance, but he had managed to avoid that duty.
Once the advisor had recovered, Delmer asked, "What's wrong, Tullister?"
Tullister was still bent over with hands on his knees, but he managed to pant, "It's your father. Assassins have shot him with a poisonous dart when he was in the courtyard greeting some peasants for the celebration. He—"
"I must go," Delmer cut him off with a gesture to the fleet hound, Morag, and galloped off towards the castle. He tossed the gyrfalcon into the sky. The bird immediately flew towards the falconry. The tranquil summer day seemed to have turned into a time of tribulation for Malzepher.
Delmer reached the castle in Kingdom Cove as fast as he could. Dismounting while the stallion was still moving, he left him in the groom's hands instead of taking care of the horse himself as he normally did. He and Morag burst through the door and rushed to his father's side.
King Rutherford’s usually firm skin had loosened, giving the middle-aged man an elderly appearance, as wrinkled as a dried fruit. His bones suddenly showed, and his eyes had sunken. His left side drooped, facial muscles slack. Even from the doorway, Delmer could see that the sheets were soaked with sweat.
The king spied his son. "Delmer, I'm so glad you've come in time. It was fortunate you were not with me, or else you might have been poisoned too.” His voice wavered, and his words were punctuated by coughs. He lisped, since half of his mouth was paralyzed.
"Come in time for what, Father?"
The king and his physician grimaced.
He can't mean what I think he does...
"Listen to me: My time has come, and you must take the throne. Guide the people well." King Rutherford was forced to stop as he coughed violently, spitting up blood. Then he continued, "Delmer, you mustn't worry about making mistakes. I certainly have made my share of them." Morag whimpered, and the king dropped his hand to her back.
He can't leave me...
Delmer tried to feel sanguine, but when he looked at his father's face, he knew the situation was grave indeed. He had always admired his father without really thinking about what would happen when he was king. Though he had trained to take over his father's position, he had not truly prepared for it.
"Prince Delmer, I'm afraid that what King Rutherford says is true. There is nothing I can do for him but relieve his pain. The poison is like nothing I've ever seen before. His lungs are disintegrating, and he experienced a stroke." The physician somberly informed Delmer as the king nodded slightly. Delmer was startled at the physician's words, but not surprised.
"Please take care. I love you..." his father managed to whisper.
"I love you too father! Please don't leave!"
The king gave a sad smile and his pale blue eyes filled with tears. Delmer clutched his hand, but his grip gradually grew weaker, until it went limp.
Delmer's own blue eyes began to fill with tears, but he gulped them down. Morag whimpered and Delmer absently stroked her head. The puppy turned and licked his face. Gathering himself, he set his jaw and stood. Healer Keller, the physician in attendance, handed him a cup of steaming liquid. He downed it without even noting the taste.
He must think I'm a hard man to not even show emotion at my father's death, but right now I'm too numb to feel any
thing.
Dazedly, Delmer returned to his chambers and changed out of his hunting clothes and into the black robe appropriate for mourning. The robe’s weight settled over him, weighing on his physical form like the grief that weighed on his soul.
He didn't feel like addressing the public, but he knew they deserved to know what had happened to their king. After tying a black scarf around Morag's neck, he glanced briefly at his rare glass mirror, but immediately looked away. It only served to remind him that he still lived, while his father did not.
He informed his servant that the heralds should announce he would address the public in a little while. The meeting would occur in three marks. The servant nodded sharply and scuttled off.
He and Morag moved slowly down the hallway, heading for the council chamber. Delmer had no doubt that the council had called a special emergency session. Opening the door, he walked into a charged atmosphere. Chairs scraped against the stone floor as the officials hastily rose. Every member of the council, including the honorary ones, was present. Without looking at any of them, he headed for the chair that was rightfully his as prince. With a jolt, he realized that was not his place anymore and walked instead to the head of the table, taking the king’s seat.
Delmer kept his words flat. "I am here to officially inform you King Rutherford has passed on. I wish to discuss what is to be done next.”
He winced inside as he heard his own words. I sound absolutely heartless.
The council members seemed numb as well, and it was eventually Tullister, the seneschal, who spoke. "Thank you for informing the council of this devastating news...Your Majesty. This is truly a tragedy, especially since your father was still young and healthy."
Hearing Tullister address him as king startled Delmer. He had not thought people would recognize his authority so quickly, nor had he wanted to assume the position so soon after his father's death.
"How will the people be informed?" Asked Guild Mistress Nin, always concerned for the masses, even during a crisis.
"I plan to make a formal announcement in three marks,” Delmer replied crisply.
"What of the funeral?" a member of the council asked.
"What about the coronation?" another voice wondered.
Before Delmer could say anything, Tullister intervened. "We will address those issues at a later meeting. In the meantime, I believe we should let the king make his announcement."
Delmer nodded in thanks to the advisor and then to the council. There was a rush of condolences and silence. Saying a formal goodbye, he left the room in relief and took to wandering the castle aimlessly with Morag plastered to his leg. There were still over two marks until the assembly; the council meeting had been kept thankfully short. As he walked, he decided on a destination. Ironically, on his way to the guardhouse he passed an older member of the guard.
Delmer called to him, "Where is the assassin you apprehended? Is he in the castle prison?"
The guard stuttered, startled out of his composure at being addressed by his new king. "We did apprehend King Rutherford's assassin, but he killed himself with poison before we could get any information out of him."
Delmer’s voice became tight with anxiety. "Then the body is at the mortuary?"
The poor man looked truly confused. "Yes, we sent it there."
Delmer managed to keep his tone level. "Send a message to the morgue for them not to touch the body. It is of the utmost importance."
"Yes, I will inform them. I am terribly sorry about your loss, Prince—Your Majesty."
As Delmer walked on, Morag butted against him, and he rested his hand on her head. Morag was always a comfort to him. Deciding to take the secret passages of the castle, he made his way to the nearest entrance.
The experts at the mortuary should be able to confirm where both the poison and the assassin had originated.
The tunnels were dark, but not damp. He had been traveling them since he was young and knew where each one led; he didn't even stumble when he entered the lightless corridor. Morag followed fearlessly, and together they walked as ghosts through the castle walls.
Finally, looking through one of the many spy holes, he noticed that the activity inside had picked up. Assembly time must be getting close.
I guess I should make my entrance.
Waiting for an opportune moment, Delmer exited the tunnel nearest the courtyard. He made sure no one saw him as he closed the passage. He then began walking at a clipped pace towards the balcony.
When Delmer reached the terrace, a large amount of the population of Kingdom Cove stood crowded in the town center. The High-born were grouped in front, while the Low-born had been forced to the back. The crowd extended far out into the streets. Everyone had donned some scrap of mourning. This was more than Delmer had expected, considering the short time which they had been given to attend the announcement. In contrast to the crowd's black clothing, Morag's silver-brown coat shone like a beacon.
The tumult began to unnerve Delmer, but Morag gave him a reassuring woof. Delmer rubbed her head again and began his speech, which had been improvised while he walked there. "Citizens of Kingdom Cove, it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that your king, my father, has passed away.”
A murmur ran over the crowd at the confirmation of what they had already suspected. Delmer lifted his chin and carried on.
"He was assassinated by a coward with a poisoned dart while walking among his people. Among you. Anyone with information about the assassin must contact the palace guard. From this day forward and until the day I die, I am your king. The official coronation and the funeral will take place in a fortnight.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. The upturned faces in the crowd were rapt, waiting for his next words, already recognizing his authority.
“The independence feast tonight is cancelled. Spend this evening in respectful contemplation, as I will. Together, we will restore the security of Malzepher after this ghastly attack."
When Delmer finished his speech, the crowd was silent. The new king turned and left. With servants dogging his heels, he made his way to the morgue. He was so tired that when he reached the door, he leaned against it for a moment before opening it. Tuck, the head mortician, bowed in greeting.
"A Noennaan?" Delmer asked when he saw the body. He was only slightly surprised.
"Yes, that is what his looks indicate. I will also identify the poison he killed himself with," Tuck informed Delmer solemnly.
"Did he kill himself with the same poison that killed my father?"
"Yes, he did. He also had another dose of poison in his cloak, which seems to be the same substance as the other two."
"Then I was meant to also die in the attack." Delmer sighed and gave Tuck a small, sad smile that lasted so briefly Tuck wondered if he had really seen it.
Before leaving, he turned to his father's body lying on the marble table. He pulled back the top of the shroud covering him and put a hand on his cold shoulder. Bending to kiss his father's forehead, he let the first tear of grief fall from his eyes. "Goodbye, father," he whispered.
Turning, Delmer saw that Tuck had left him alone and not witnessed his grief. Feeling for the spring in the wall of the morgue, he entered the secret passageway. The system of tunnels had most likely been built to serve two purposes: the first to escape during a siege; the second for servants to traverse the castle invisibly.
Presumably, Queen Minna had failed to tell anyone besides servants of the tunnels’ existence before her prolonged illness. Delmer assumed that the servants who knew of the tunnels had left or died. He had stumbled upon the passages as a young boy, and as far as he knew only he had knowledge of them.
After wandering a while, he finally reached the royal suite. No one occupied them when he entered, but silent, efficient servants had already moved all his possessions to his new chambers. He spotted the crown of the king on his new dresser. It was at the sight of the crown, his father’s crown, that he began to sob silently.
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Physically and emotionally spent, he collapsed on the bed. He wept, his tears coming in torrents. Morag jumped up onto the bed and laid her head on Delmer's back. Normally Delmer would have ordered her off, but instead he turned and embraced his dog. She licked his face, and gradually they fell asleep.
___
Ambassador Rebenna had been called from her hometown of Ironton to Desert Stronghold, the capital of Noenna.
Noenna bordered Malzepher, Rugerr, and Borse. It also bordered the mysterious land of Savann, but there were no ambassadors to that country. It was considered the Great Wilderness.
Rebenna, was the ambassador to Malzepher. She had taken the position at the age of seventeen, becoming the youngest ambassador in Noenna's history and one of only a few women to ever serve in a political position. Almost a year had passed since then.
Her father had been the ambassador to Malzepher for over thirty years before her, but on his last assignment he had been killed by raiders. That had made the already poor relations between Noenna and Malzepher worse.
Trotting up to the gated city, she hailed the guards. They glanced down and made rude gestures to each other that they thought she couldn't see. She nodded to them as the ornate doors creaked open. No one could know that inwardly she cringed at the treatment by looking at her cool, outward façade.
Her mare, Borrowed Trouble, stepped forward eagerly. The animal had been a gift from her brother, who had taken to training horses as a hobby. Borrowed Trouble was by no means pretty; she was sturdy and strong instead of delicate. Despite a flawless form, with her dull, coarse black coat and too large eyes she would never have been desirable. The only thing that changed this fact was that Trouble was not some cull or palfrey, but a full-blooded war horse. This was at times problematic and caused the mare to live up to her name.
Trouble had been one of the first horses that her brother Geb had bred himself. Their other brothers had been ready to shoot her as a foal, when she took a chunk out of one of the draft horses’ neck. A much younger Rebenna had intervened, and her father had indulged her by letting the foal live.
Homecoming Page 1