by John Marco
Mirage walked alone through the Rainbow Lane. She had been in the castle for almost a week, and though Raxor had given her complete freedom – provided she stayed within the complex walls – she had not yet ventured outside.
Until today.
Today, she had no chaperone and no curfew of any kind. She had awoken early to one of Laurella’s fine breakfasts, and the bright rising sun through her chamber windows told her that today she should free herself of the castle and explore the city that Raxor so adored. Her decision to finally venture outside had pleased Laurella, for the old maid had urged her for days to explore the city, highly recommending a walk down the Rainbow Lane. It was where Laurella had been born, the old woman had explained, and where she still had cousins who were cobblers. Mirage noticed a man with tacks in his mouth, cursing under his breath as he worked outside, mending shoes. She passed the man with a smile, wondering if he were Laurella’s kin. The smile made the grizzled man’s eyebrows shoot up in pleasure. He stopped his hammering just long enough to return the pretty girl’s grin.
The castle complex was not what Mirage had expected. In all her time with Lukien, who had spent years battling Raxor and the Reecians, the knight had never once commented on the city’s splendour. Hes had charmed Mirage at once, and the vast complex of Castle Hes was like a great and fabulous maze to explore, with alluring homes for the armies of servants and countless courtyards surrounded by manicured gardens. The tower of a cathedral rose up in the distance, its copper roof showering sunlight across the pastel homes. Nearby, a belvedere with marble columns stood like an ancient titan, its grounds criss-crossed with perfectly angled sidewalks. Mirage stopped to admire the structure, noticing a fountain gurgling in its yard. She left the narrow lane and moved toward the belvedere, staring up at the magnificent structure and counting its many arches. There were pines around the fountain, dwarfs of their giant siblings, and lovers sitting on the grass, listening to the fountains ringing music. Mirage went to the fountain and dipped her hand into the cool water. She watched in awe as spouts of water jetted up to strike the bowls of brass, each one singing a different note. Here she was away from the crowds, invited by the fountain and flower beds to relax and think.
Choosing a patch of comfortable grass, Mirage laid herself down in the sunlight. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she closed her eyes and let the warmth caress her face. The last week had passed in a blur, and now she took the time to catch her breath. From Asher’s ghastly prison, she had been delivered into the hands of a demented, kindly king, who could not do enough to please her but could not bring himself to free her. Mirage had seen very little of Raxor since their first meeting. He had come to her twice since then, only to see to her needs, and he had not touched her the way she had feared or ordered her to his bed. That surprised Mirage. She was his woman now. Yet she still didn’t know what that meant.
Kirsil, what am I doing? she asked silently. I should run from him.
Her unseen Akari blossomed in her mind. Like her host, Kirsil was calm now, much better than she had been during those days in Asher’s prison. Kirsil’s voice appeared like a brook through her mind, gently lapping at the shores of her thoughts.
If you go past the wall, he will find you, Kirsil warned.
How do we know that? He trusts me, Kirsil. He is so damned faithful.
He loves you, the spirit tittered.
Mirage frowned. It’s not funny. We are prisoners.
Raxor says otherwise. In time he will trust you too much, and then you can simply leave him.
She wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of leaving Raxor troubled Mirage. In his day, Raxor had been a brutal war hero, and Mirage had not forgotten the things Lukien had said about him. In battle he had been a beast, mercilessly taking heads with his axe, but he had also been a fair man, Mirage remembered, and now she could see that in him, struggling.
He means me no harm, said Mirage. She opened her eyes and looked across the lanes toward the castle tower where he and his family resided. It was her home now, too. ‘He’s just old and lonely,’ she whispered.
Kirsil’s tremor of displeasure told Mirage the spirit did not agree. No more joking, now. You were right – you should leave. But be smart about it. Wait until you are sure.
‘Yes,’ Mirage agreed. ‘When I’m sure . . .’
Mirage settled into the grass for a spell, pushing aside her concerns. It was a glorious day and she was free, at least partially, to walk where she wanted and explore the fair city. She rested near the fountain for a leisurely time, then stood and brushed the grass from her backside, looking around. Now that morning was well underway the avenues began to fill with people. Again noticing the awesome tower of the cathedral peaking up above the tiled roofs, she chose her direction, using the tower as a landmark. Supposing the cathedral looked deceptively close, she did not fully intend to reach it, but rather to use it as a guide by which to navigate. On her way back she would use the castle itself, and if she happened to wander past the wall of the castle complex . . .
What would happen to her, she wondered? She looked furtively over her shoulder, wondering if Raxor had sent unseen chaperones with her, but all she saw were workmen and children in the streets and lovers too occupied to pay her much attention. Satisfied, she went back to the lane with the tiny houses and made her way south, until the lane widened and the pastel homes gave way to grand buildings of stone and darkly painted wood. Here the avenue curved into a circle hidden with tall, official looking structures and crowds of people and animals, all shuffling through the street with carts of wool, fruit and timber. Mirage avoided the crowd, picking her way to the other side of the street where a sidewalk guided her further toward the cathedral’s tower, still visible over the crenulated tops of the buildings. On a corner she paused to get her bearings, then heard a noise in the distance. Like cheering, or the roar of a river, the sound leapt over the buildings and into the street. Curious, Mirage followed the noise. Rounding the corner, she came suddenly to a flat, gigantic parade ground. And on the ground were horsemen – hundreds of them – drilling on their proud mounts to the precise music of trumpeters. Under the shadow of the lofty cathedral, the field waved with flags and shook with pageantry, burdened with rows of carts piled high with supplies and stable boys shoeing horses, ordered about by men in armour and elegant uniforms. Among the teams of horses marched throngs of foot soldiers, while others practiced with pikes or fenced with swords under the critical gaze of officers. Not knowing what she had stumbled upon, Mirage scooted back around the corner, peering out her head for a better view. Pleased that none of the Reecian soldiers had noticed her, she watched in awe as they drilled, preparing for some unknown war.
‘Kirsil, do you see?’ she whispered.
Her Akari replied with alarm. What is this?
‘I don’t know . . .’
Mirage tried counting up the troops. There were at least five hundred of them, most on horseback but all similarly garbed in the armour of Reecian fighting men. Like the ones she had seen when she’d crossed the border into Reec, the soldiers seemed to be making ready.
But for what? asked Kirsil, reading her thoughts. Is Reec in trouble?
Mirage thought for a moment, wondering about the warning Raxor had given her. He had said that Baron Glass was plotting against Reec; he’d been so sure of it. Unable to see clearly, Mirage stepped out from behind the corner, sure that she was in no danger from the troops. She was Raxor’s woman, after all. The parade ground enthralled her, its soldiers beautiful. Their frenzied noise filled the field. Sunlight from the blue sky played off their shining, armoured bodies and polished weapons. Galloping past her came a team of thundering horsemen, their heads bowed as they circled the enormous field. Mirage stepped back from the field as the horses blew by, awestruck by their power. At the head of the team rode a man in silver armour with a crimson plume sprouting from his helmet. A sword slapped against his leggings. He had led his team past Mirage and for a moment kept on ri
ding, but fifty yards later he reined his horse to an abrupt halt, wheeling about to face her. The dozen horsemen he led fell into place behind him, but the man – his face hidden behind his helmet – ordered them to go. His metal face leered at Mirage. Then, he snapped the reins of his chestnut steed and stalked toward her.
Mirage pressed herself against the corner. She thought of running but couldn’t make her feet obey. Instead she watched as the grand horseman trotted closer, coming to a stop a few feet away. Atop his snorting beast he towered over Mirage, looking down on her through the eyeslits in his metal mask. Gripping his reins, he leaned back comfortably, nodding.
‘You’re the one,’ he said. The young voice echoed beneath his helmet. Finally he raised a gauntlet to lift his faceplate, revealing his sharp nose and piercing green eyes. A red goatee covered his chin, partially hidden by a veil of chainmail. ‘You’re my father’s new plaything.’
The accusation stunned Mirage. ‘I am no one’s toy, sir,’ she spat at the knight, but she already knew the man’s name. So far she had avoided meeting Raxor’s children, the two daughters and one grown son who lived in Castle Hes. According to Laurella they were a selfish lot, accustomed to taking from their father and giving little back. The knight laughed at Mirage’s tartness.
‘I recognize you,’ he said. ‘I have seen you at the castle. My father spoke of you to me when you came.’
‘You’re Roland,’ said Mirage, not backing down. ‘I see you do not have your father’s manners.’
‘Or his luck with women,’ laughed the knight. ‘To have such a pretty young thing to share his bed with! I do envy my father sometimes.’
Roland the Red was a major in Reec’s army, an accomplished cavalryman with a streak of arrogance that made his men dislike him. Mirage only knew what Laurella had told her about Roland.
‘Is that why you came? To accuse me? I should think a prince would know better how to introduce himself.’
‘You are fiery,’ said Roland. ‘And you do look like my mother.’ He waved his gauntlet at her. ‘Step out. Let me look at you.’
‘Shall I open my mouth for you, too? Let you check my teeth? I’m not a horse for you to inspect.’
‘No,’ said Roland, his smile greasy. ‘You’re hardly a horse. But my father has bridled you.’
‘I’m his prisoner,’ Mirage shot back. ‘I don’t wish to be here at all.’
Roland spun his horse to the other side, keeping it expertly in check. ‘I know that,’ he said. ‘And believe it or not I am sorry for you. In case you haven’t figured it out yet my father is demented. He mourns for my mother like a little boy.’
‘He loved her,’ said Mirage, unsure why she was defending Raxor. ‘And if you loved your father you would not speak of him so.’
‘I loved the man he used to be,’ said Roland, ‘the man Corvalos Chane thinks you can make him again. Oh, yes, we’ve all heard the story! I admit you could have been my mother’s twin, but you can’t replace her, woman, and you can’t make a sick old man whole again.’
‘I don’t intend to,’ said Mirage icily. ‘As soon as your father realizes that, he will send me on my way.’
‘He won’t,’ laughed Roland. ‘You are here to stay. You should know that. Don’t make yourself mad with thoughts of escaping. My father is already obsessed with you. He will never let you go.’
Mirage cursed herself for blundering into this argument. ‘What is all this?’ she asked, hoping to change the subject. ‘You’re preparing for war?’
‘Indeed, pretty lady, for war is upon us! Your man, the Black Baron – he has forced us to the march. I’m leading these men to the Liirian border, along the Kryss river. We leave in a few days.’
‘Baron Glass has attacked?’
Roland shook his armoured head. ‘Not yet, no. But he will, and when he does we will be ready for him.’ With his icy eyes, Roland glared at Mirage. ‘You haven’t told my father anything about Glass yet, have you?’
‘But you have secrets. Asher has said so, and he is never wrong about such things.’ Roland sighed, sounding almost pitying. ‘You should tell the truth, woman, and spare yourself the agony. I tell you the truth when I say Asher isn’t done with you.’
‘I speak to your father, and what I tell him is between he and I,’ said Mirage. ‘I am not afraid of Asher. And you are wrong about Baron Glass – he has no interest in Reec. I’ve already said that a hundred times.’
‘Ah, and do you speak for the Diamond Queen as well, lady? That insatiable bitch?’ Roland waited for Mirage to answer. ‘Eh?’
‘No,’ Mirage admitted.
‘No. So please, do not pretend to know the threats we face. We have burdens enough.’ Roland hoisted a thumb over his shoulder toward the parade ground. ‘These men are riding into battle, but the battle cannot come until my father joins it. They won’t follow me, not without the king. So you see? You have a difficult task.’
Mirage was puzzled by him. ‘What task?’
‘Take care of my father. Will you do that? No one else can make a man of him again.’
‘I am no whore, Sir!’
Roland held up his hands. ‘And I am not calling you one. I’m just saying the obvious. You’re a beautiful woman and you were brought here to service him. If you haven’t figured that out yet . . .’
‘You’re a disgusting troll,’ sneered Mirage. ‘I’m not a prostitute your father hired out of the gutter, and I’m not surprised these men won’t follow you. Better to follow a crazy old man than an arrogant young bastard.’
Roland smiled at her from his high perch. ‘Good luck to you, Mirage. For the sake of Reec I hope you are happy with my father. You have no choice but to stay with him. The sooner you understand that the better your time here will be.’
He didn’t wait for her to reply. Roland the Red simply spun his horse away and rode off toward his waiting cavalry, leaving Mirage stunned and speechless. With just a few words he had shredded her meagre peace. The bright day felt suddenly cold, and all she wanted was to run back to Castle Hes and lock herself in her chambers. Turning slowly from the field, she went back around the corner and started walking the long way home. But before she took even five steps a figure startled her.
‘You’ve met Roland.’
Mirage jumped at the sound of the voice. Blocking the sidewalk stood Corvalos Chane, tall and lean in his leather armour, his arms folded over his chest. The sight of him made Mirage instantly angry.
‘You’ve been following me!’ she railed, emotion flooding her voice. ‘How long?’
‘All day.’
She felt like a fool, doubly so now. She shook her head and thought she might cry from frustration. ‘I thought he trusted me.’
‘He does. I don’t,’ said Chane. He stepped closer, putting his long hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the parade ground. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ he told her.
‘Then you should have stopped me!’
Chane hurried her away so that none of the soldiers could see her. When they were safely hidden from the field by the stone wall of a soaring building, Corvalos Chane faced her with a scowl.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘But Laurella warned you about Roland. He is a whelp, and not accustomed to holding his tongue. Don’t take his words to heart. I’m the one his father trusts, not him.’
‘He’s going to the border,’ said Mirage. ‘He’s going to war.’
‘Aye, to be with the others. But he’ll do nothing until his father joins him.’
‘Joins him? You mean Raxor is going too?’
‘In time,’ said Chane. ‘But not now, not until he is ready. You must make him ready, Mirage. The men will not follow Roland. He is too ambitious and they know it. They’ll follow only Raxor, because he was great once and because they love him. Especially the officers. Roland knows this.’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Mirage lamented. ‘The way Roland spoke of his father – does he hate the man or love him?’
‘He is jealous of him, I think. Even Roland knows what a great man his father once was.’
‘And I must make him great again,’ sighed Mirage. ‘You’re all mad.’
‘Just give him confidence,’ said Chane. ‘Let him feel like a man again. Once he does, he will ride to the border to defend us.’
Mirage laughed at the order. ‘That’s all? Just make a man out of him? Fate above, listen to yourself.’ She began walking away. ‘I’ll tell you what I told Roland, Corvalos Chane – I may be a prisoner, but I am no whore. Now, take me back to the castle.’
With Chane hurrying after her, Mirage began walking the long way back. In her mind she heard Roland’s hateful words again and again, taunting her. She was not a slave or a harlot, and they would never make her one. But she pitied Raxor and worried about what he was to do, for there was no way the old man could ever stand against Thorin Glass in battle. With his Devil’s Armour, Thorin would tear Raxor to shreds.
And for that she was truly, deeply sorry.
*
Late the next afternoon, Corvalos Chane surprised Mirage again.
She had spent the morning and the whole day before alone in her chambers, miserable over the things Roland had said to her and unwilling to rekindle her curiosity about the city. Laurella had spent some time with her, mostly ranting about Roland, and then had sent the young maids Sela and Meleni to cheer her up. With their effervescent smiles, the girls managed to pull Mirage from the worst of her doldrums, but like Laurella they could not convince her to ignore Raxor’s son or the cruel things he had said to her. Mirage told the maids about what she had seen on the parade ground. When she did, Laurella simply nodded as if she already knew.