Crawly’s shot was equally impressive and equally true. Forced by Grum’s higher score, Crawly aimed for the heart of his target and his arrow found it.
The crowd was even louder than before. Grum and Crawly shook hands.
“Out of all the squires,” said Grum, “I do not mind losing to you.”
The official grabbed both their hands but held just Crawly’s over his head. The young crowd continued its boisterous clapping.
“Well done, Grum,” said Farling as Arastead clapped Grum warmly on the back. Grum’s smile was wide.
“I admit, I wish I had won,” said Grum, “but I can find no fault with Crawly. Next year, I will best him.”
“Good attitude,” said Farling. “Hey, Conall. What did you think of the match?”
“Well done, Grum,” he said shaking hands with Grum.
“Thanks, Conall,” said Grum. “I am famished after all that. Let’s go get something to eat.”
And they set off to find a pub that could seat four.
***
The next day, Nas was up early. His sleep had been poor as he had been troubled by dreams. He stayed in the pavilion with the Aarlund brothers, their nephew, the cook, as the brothers had prodigious appetites. Nas worried they would run out of food before the King’s Tournament ended.
He got up, lit a small fire, and boiled water for tea. Once he had made the tea, he found a comfortable place on the ground. He pulled out his rune stones from a small leather bag. He stretched a piece of leather flat on the ground and rolled the stones. Symbols and carvings stared up at him. He grunted in surprise.
“Not good,” he whispered. “I must see Margret.” He wrote a note, put it on the table, then left.
***
The guards at the gates and at the castle recognized Nas and let him through. Everyone knew him now so that he no longer needed an escort. Once inside the castle, he waited until Margret and Cormac had dressed and were ready to receive him.
“It is early, even for you,” said Cormac. “Something must be bothering you, else you would not be here, wringing your hands as you do when you are nervous.”
Nas stopped moving his hands. “I could not sleep last night. The dreams were powerful. There is a great schism in Dennland, something is not right. A separation has occurred that could have dire consequences for us, for Aarlund and Dennland.”
“Tell me.”
“There is magic afoot, strong magic that can be used for good or evil. Black clouds and lightening follow this magic as it sows confusion. In my dreams, I saw King Frederick’s face melt as if it was made of wax. His face blurred, softened, grew hazy. What the dreams do not tell me is if this means he is being duplicitous with us, or if there is more to it. And magic is involved, which tells me he is not being duplicitous, but that perhaps the magic is making him.”
“This is an ill way to greet us this morning, Nas. Things are going so well. We won the archery match yesterday. Margret is getting along very well with Queen Astrid and the other ladies of the court. She is even working on arranging a visit to Aarlund for Queen Astrid. And now you are plagued with dark dreams of face changers and other demons.”
“My king, you knew things would get dark. That is why you were chosen. You are the only one who could unite the clans, as we must be strong and not divided. They will follow your sword. That is why we came down to Dennland. The ancient sword of Aarlund, the Almuric Sword, will bind our people together as never before. And we will need all our strength for when the dam bursts and the reavers from the other land invade, we must be ready.”
“I remember,” said Cormac and his thoughts went unbidden to when, years before, he had first met Nas, and they had seen the vision together in the flames. I have seen the great host and their sharp spears.
Nas turned to Princess Margret. Said: “I will need you to wear your circlet.”
“The Circlet of Freya,” stated Margret. She had not worn it since she had cured Airthear of his painful headaches. It had been difficult to take the circlet off as everything seemed more livid, more alive when she wore it. All her senses were heightened and it was if she could see and feel everything. But, at the same time, it was too much, and so she had removed it and placed it on a shelf. She had also feared what would happen were she to wear it while she slept.
Margret’s maid returned with the circlet. Margret turned it in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship, feeling the pull the circlet exerted on it.
“Pardon me?” Margret asked.
Nas raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I asked you to wear it to this morning’s breakfast, and perhaps for most of the morning,” he said. “You seemed lost in thought. What bothers you?”
“Nothing,” she said but she rushed the word. She knew Nas was too sharp to not notice that, but thankfully, he allowed the moment to pass. “I will ask my maid to let the stewards know to set an extra place for you at breakfast.”
At the appointed time, they walked down the halls to the dining area where breakfast was served. It was a small room with angled glass panels on the ceiling that would allow winter snow to slide off. The room was essentially a balcony that had been sealed off from the elements. It offered a fantastic view of the tourney grounds.
Everyone was already there waiting for the Aarlunders to begin breakfast. Margret noticed that King Frederick still wore a scarf about his neck and when she looked at his face and his eyes met hers, she fainted.
***
Margret awoke finding herself back in her bed. A folded moistened towel lay on her forehead. She opened her eyes. Sitting beside her, holding a hand was her father. On the table beside her bed was her magical circlet.
“She is awake,” he said. Nas and her maid were quickly at her side.
Margret gave the small towel to her maid and sat up.
“How do you feel?” asked her father.
“It was too much,” she said. “King Frederick’s face blurred and shimmered before me. I saw two faces, his and another’s. The other face was mean and pinched, and not like King Frederick’s face at all, which is kind and gentle. But it was as if I was seeing through a mask and seeing the real face underneath. It was just all too much, and, as I have woken here in my bed, I take it I fainted.”
Everyone nodded. “It appears your dream was correct,” said Cormac to Nas. Nas nodded but did not look pleased.
“Tell me, Your Highness,” said Nas. “Have you ever looked at King Frederick’s face before while wearing the circlet?”
“Yes, when it was first given to me. Queen Astrid placed the circlet on my head. I felt faint and dizzy but was fine. I looked at Queen Astrid and I looked directly at King Frederick and our eyes met then. No, this imposter has appeared since that time.”
“That is why he wears a scarf,” said Nas. “He can imitate King Frederick’s image and body, but he cannot imitate his voice. So, he pretends he has lost his voice due to an illness.”
“There is another thing I saw before I fainted. The fake King Frederick wears a pendant about his neck that glows. I believe I have seen another item of magic as it is the same glow I see when I look at the Almuric Sword. It too glows with a light that I can only see when I wear the circlet.”
“A magic pendant,” said Nas, “one that gives you the ability to change your appearance. A pendant of Loki, I believe, if I remember my stories right. When Loki wanted to change how he looked, he would wear this pendant, and no one would recognize him. Perhaps that is why this circlet was made so that Freya could see Loki no matter what the appearance.”
Cormac nodded. “Yes, the gods even played games amongst themselves,” he said. “And now the games are being played here. We cannot simply walk up to King Frederick and claim he is an imposter. If we remove the pendant, the illusion will break. But that too would be impossible as I am sure this imposter has taken precautions.”
“We are in danger,” said Nas. “If this imposter knows or even suspects Princess Margret has seen through his disguise, he may tr
y and silence her and us somehow. This imposter will use everything a king has at his disposal. He commands an army and the land is rife with his knights. I misjudged the danger of visiting Dennland. We should have simply sent a delegation of clan chiefs, not the king and princess.”
Cormac smiled. “We are not done yet,” he said. “I doubt even this imposter wishes to start war between Aarlund and Dennland.”
Nas shook his head, said: “This imposter may not want war, but others do. There are many nobles unhappy at this peace accord. A few Aarlund clan leaders as well. People feel too much was forgiven as part of the peace process, that not enough retributions and tributes were given, on either side. As we bound the clans of Aarlund to one leader, we need to combine the strengths of Aarlund and Dennland if we are to fight the dark host.”
The sound of many boots outside the door brought a hush to the room.
“I see he has already made his move,” said Nas. He opened the door to find the number of guards tripled.
Cormac demanded: “What is the meaning of this?”
One of King Frederick’s pages pushed through the guards.
“King’s orders. He is worried that Princess Margret has an illness and so he has quarantined you. He hopes it will pass in the next few hours.”
Nas put a reassuring hand on Cormac’s sword arm, said: “That is wise. We too are worried that she is ill with something. We are not showing any signs of illness. Please let King Frederick know that we will stay in our chambers and wait until Princess Margret feels better again. As well, you will need to get word to the Aarlund warriors that we are safe in the castle, and are not being let out due to worries about our health.”
The young page bowed and walked away to deliver both messages.
Nas closed the door.
In a low voice Nas murmured: “I worry though that this imposter may wish to do more to keep us silent. I will send a message to the brothers. Actually, to their nephew, Conall, as he is the only one who can read.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” asked Cormac.
For an answer, Nas just smiled. He walked out onto the open balcony high above the ground. He looked around and saw several ravens perched on the tops of a row of chimneys, enjoying the warm air that ruffled their feathers. Nas felt around in one of his leather bags and pulled out a small whistle made of bone and blew it.
“I did not hear any sound,” said Margret.
“No, Your Highness, you may not, but they did.” He pointed at the ravens whose heads had swiveled hard at the sound of the whistle’s call. They cawed at each other, then one launched and flew over to land on Nas’s outstretched arm.
He carried the raven inside away from prying eyes. He tore off some pieces of bread, which the raven ate gratefully. Nas quickly wrote a note and affixed it to one of the raven’s legs. Then he spoke to the raven, but it was in a language unfamiliar to Cormac or Margret. The raven nodded. Nas put his arm on the table and the raven walked onto it. He then carried the raven outside to the balcony and, pushing his arm up, helped launch the raven into the air. It beat its wings, lifting it up, then flew down circling around the castle towards the tourney grounds and was lost from sight.
“Now what?” asked Cormac.
“Now we wait,” answered Nas. “I do not know about you but I am hungry. Let us get those guards to bring us some food.”
***
After breakfast had been brought to the room, they heard a cawing on the balcony.
“I think your friend is back,” said Margret.
Nas fetched the raven. He feed it some pieces of bread again and listened attentively. Then he put his arm out again as before and helped the raven back outside.
“What news does the raven bring?” asked Cormac once Nas returned.
“The message was delivered.”
***
In the Aarlund pavilion on the tourney grounds of the King’s Tournament, Conall had woken early. After getting dressed and washing his face and hands, he saw the note on the table. He read it and grinned. He was happy Nas had taught him how to read. He busied himself getting his uncles’ clothes ready for the day. It had been quite the night, as his uncle Cruithni had won the archery event. As promised, he would share the award with his brothers, Conall, and even the cook. It was to be the same for all the brothers if any won an event.
His uncles woke, got dressed, and washed up to break their fasts. The cook laid out the usual large breakfast. While they were eating, one of Conall’s uncles asked about Nas.
“He left a note,” answered Conall, “saying he went to talk with Princess Margret and King Cormac.”
The rest of breakfast passed with everyone talking about what quarterstaff moves Tuathail should use during today’s tournament.
They were just about to leave when a large raven flew into the pavilion landing on the table. Tuathail tried to scare it away with his quarterstaff but the raven ignored him and instead pulled at a piece of paper affixed to one of its legs. Once the raven removed the paper, he held it out towards Conall.
Tuathail pointed at Conall with his chin, said: “Nephew, I think he is trying to give you the note.”
Conall looked at his uncles and had to hide a laugh. For all their size and strength, all his uncles looked absolutely terrified by the raven, except for Airthear, the eldest.
Conall took the note from the raven’s beak. He realized he should reward the raven, so he fed it some leftover bread. The raven ate the food, then looked up at Conall expectantly. Conall looked at his uncle Airthear for guidance.
“Tell the raven to tell Nas we will be fine,” said Airthear. Conall repeated the message to the raven. Then it clawed at the table.
“Put your arm out, Conall, and let the raven climb on. Then take it outside and push it up into the air to help it fly.”
As his uncle had described, the raven walked onto Conall’s outstretched arm, and allowed itself to be carried outside and pushed into the air. Conall ignored all the strange looks he received from people walking past.
Once he was back inside the tent, Cruithni asked: “What did the note say?”
“The note said that all my uncles shouldn’t be so afraid of a raven.” He chuckled at their looks. “No, the note said ‘We are safe. Be vigilant.’ What do you think that means?”
Before any of the uncles could reply, a young page from the castle appeared. He was out of breath as he had run hard.
“I bear a message for the brothers from Aarlund.” He looked up at the clansmen and his mouth dropped open.
“We will not eat you, child, out with your message,” said Airthear.
The page gulped and found his voice. “King Frederick regrets to say that Princess Margret has taken ill and that he worries her illness may spread. He regrets to say that King Cormac and his daughter and their group are confined to quarters until the illness passes and does not spread.”
“Please thank the king for his kindly words,” said Airthear. “We too hope that Princess Margret feels better soon and will attend the quarterstaff event with her father, King Cormac.”
The page’s eyes strayed to the food on the table.
“Have a quick bit to eat,” Airthear said. “You must be hungry after running down here.”
The page gratefully tore off a piece of bread and a wedge of cheese.
Cruithni said in a joking voice: “You know, if you eat that, your hair will turn red.”
“My uncle jests with you,” said Conall seeing the page’s panicked look. “The food is fine and your hair will not turn color.”
The page ran out of the pavilion clutching his bread and cheese.
Cruithni scratched an ear, said: “I hope we have no more messengers this morning, else we will run out of food. What is going on with Princess Margret and King Cormac?”
“And Nas,” said Airthear. “He must have known he was needed at the castle this morning to help Princess Margret and King Cormac. I feel better Nas is with them. Still, this is trou
bling as I saw nothing wrong with the princess last time I saw her.”
Eithlenn asked: “Why would Nas go through the trouble of sending us a message by raven? There was nothing in the words from King Frederick that were particularly alarming.”
“Maybe just that,” said Airthear. “We know there is nothing wrong with Princess Margret, especially an illness that needs her and the king separated from us. It takes more than a small illness to keep an Aarlunder down.”
Cruithni snorted, said: “Perhaps King Frederick will make everyone wear scarves, as it seems to be his cure.”
“Burn the message from Nas,” Airthear told Conall. “We will continue on today as if nothing is the matter. Now, let us go win another event!”
***
Goran, the illusionist, listened as King Frederick’s page told him what one of the Aarlund brothers had said. Goran nodded as he lightly touched his scarf. He did not like how Princess Margret had reacted when she had seen him. He had confined the princess and the king and their group to their chambers until he could think of what to do. He knew he could not keep them in their chambers longer than a few hours. But during that time, he would meet with the barons, and seek their counsel. It was their decision to make after all.
“Fetch Barons Cai, Sakarias, and Lars,” he said to the page, trying his best to sound like a sick King Frederick. The page ran off.
“You still do not sound well, Your Majesty,” said Phillius.
Goran waved off his concerns. “Tell the barons I will meet them in my private chambers. Alone,” he added. “Afterwards, I will join everyone at the King’s Tournament.”
“When will Princess Margret and King Cormac be able to attend?” asked Phillius.
“Soon, soon,” said Goran. “I do not think she is ill, but we must be safe, must we not? Most likely after I meet with the barons.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Phillius leaving Goran alone.
Goran rose and went to his chambers. He paced in front of the fire until the three barons appeared.
“I do not think it wise that we appear together with you,” said Cai to Goran.
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