Quests of the Kings

by Robert Evert

  “Wait until you taste the beer,” said Reg.

  “We.” Sir Edris indicated himself and Reg. “We are drinking here. We’re going to drink to the memory of our comrade, Sir Kaye, a man of many skills, though evidently dueling wasn’t one of them.”

  “And to Sir Glenn,” Reg added.

  “Yes, indeed. And to Sir Glenn.” Sir Edris shook his head. “Shot in the back…what’s this world coming to?”

  “Dark times, I’m afraid.”

  “Dark, indeed.”

  “What about us?” Natalie asked.

  “You two are on your own.” Sir Edris handed Natalie a pouch. “Good luck to you, my favorite bastard daughter! I wish you well.”

  “What?” Natalie cried. “Wait! What? What’re you doing? You can’t leave me! Brago—” She adjusted her volume. “He’s here!” she hissed. “He saw me! He, he looked right at me!”

  Reg pretended to inspect the evening sky. “Randell’s man turned down a side street.”

  Sir Edris nodded slightly.

  “He’s going to kill me!” Natalie grabbed the knight’s arm. “Please don’t leave me!”

  “Oh, he barely noticed you. You’ll be fine.”

  Natalie threw her hands up. “What did you expect? You were standing right there! It’s not like he’d take a knife out and gut me right then!”

  “Actually,” said Sir Edris, “I wouldn’t put that past him.”

  “What?” Natalie’s voice went shrill.

  Everybody hushed her. People on the street paused to peer in her direction.

  “Look, Nat—” Sir Edris patted her on the shoulder, his big hand lingering tenderly. “I promised I’d help you, and I have. But I can’t watch you for the rest of your life. I have a quest to win.” At this, tears welled in Natalie’s eyes. “Now, none of that. You’re a smart girl—smarter than most adventurers I’ve known. You’ll be okay.” He patted her shoulder again. “Good luck.”

  Natalie watched in disbelief as Sir Edris entered the squalid tavern.

  “Sorry, Nat, but you’re as protected as you can be.” Reg pulled out a fistful of coins from his pocket. “Here. This might help you and your family for a bit.”

  “I don’t need your damned money!” Natalie shouted, knocking his hand away. A shower of coins fell clinking into the street. Urchins appeared like rats out of the dark alleyways, hitting and kicking and pulling each other’s hair as they fought over the spilled coins.

  “Nat!” Artis started to pick up the coins the urchins hadn’t already grabbed. “I’m sorry, Reg. She’s—”

  “She’s what?” Natalie spun to face him.

  Artis straightened, took a step back, and returned Natalie’s glare, eyes narrowing. “She’s being a bitch.”

  Natalie gasped.

  “Nat, these people have been trying to help you! All of us have been trying to help you, and all you ever do is complain!”

  “My life is in danger!” she snapped. “He’s going to kill me, remember?”

  “All of our lives are in danger because of what you did. Haven’t you realized that yet? Think about Henry! Think about what happened to him!”

  Natalie gasped again, her mouth hanging open. “You—you—” she sputtered, then, crying, she ran off.

  “Nat!” Artis shouted, but for the first time since they were children, he didn’t run after her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Natalie ran crying through the streets of Winros Minor until she couldn’t run anymore. Tripping over the hem of her new dress, she collapsed onto a park bench in front of Lord Haakon’s duck pond. A couple walked up to her; the woman asked if Natalie was all right. Natalie sobbed fitfully that she was fine, and the couple continued on their way, peering back at her as they went.

  Why was she crying? Part of it was because she was tired and afraid; she’d just seen Brago, and he’d seen her. The bastard actually bowed to her! Was that some sort of joke? Had there been a subtle look in his eyes that said “We’ll meet again soon enough?” She couldn’t remember. It’d all been just a bone-chilling blur.

  But another part of her knew Artis was right: she had been a demanding bitch. Here she always claimed women could do anything men could, yet when trouble reared its head, what happened? She ran to the biggest man she could find to protect her. And then, she was even grateful. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

  She sat on the bench, tears slowing until they finally trickled to a stop.

  A phalanx of quacking ducks waddled closer, watching her, waiting for breadcrumbs to be thrown. Natalie rubbed her eyes.

  What was she going to do now?

  She could go home—she should go home. Then again, Hadley and Ida would make sure her mother and Robbie and the children were okay. Plus, being away felt so—liberating. Despite her constant fear of being found by Brago, she actually did enjoy being out and about. She didn’t have to get up before the crack of dawn every morning. She didn’t have to be home to cook and clean and take care of everybody’s problems. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She was finally free.

  This, however, made her feel even guiltier. While she wore a new dress and knocked away handfuls of coins, her family was forced to rely on the charity of friends. The rent needed to be paid. The taxes needed to be paid. The children needed food and clothes and looking after. Hadley and Ida could only do so much. No, she had to go home and start working again.

  But Henry’s livery had burnt down. He might even be dead, for all she knew. She’d been so worried about herself, she hadn’t even thought about him. He had a family, too.

  The ducks lingered, restless quacks bubbling through their ranks.

  New tears welled, but Natalie forced them down. She was done crying. She’d return home and find another job—two, if need be. The dress she wore, with its fine silk fabric, could fetch at least twenty silver. That’d pay for a good deal. Regret stabbed her, but she forced that down, as well. She’d go home, find a new job, and everything would be back to normal.

  Normal…

  Her heart constricted. She didn’t want normal. Normal was making her old before she was ever young. Still, what could she do?

  Would Brago keep hunting for her? Maybe not. After all, he did have the quest to worry about, and he didn’t seem to recognize her in the cathedral. Then again, she’d been wearing an expensive dress with her hair down. She could probably do the same thing in Upper Angle. She could learn to blend in. He might never find her.

  She thought about Artis, conflicting emotions flooding her heart. She’d treated him so poorly. Could she make it up to him? Would he forgive her? Did she want him to forgive her?

  She’d been keeping Artis at arm’s length ever since they were children, back when he’d first kissed her by the stream running through his family’s orchard. She must have been six then. Ten years later, nothing had really changed.

  Perhaps a little distance between them would be for the best. He needed to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and she needed to put her life back together again.

  Her life…

  She’d go home, find a job, and work to feed her family. She’d work and work and—

  Then what? Where was the end?

  The weight of her smothering burdens grew heavier.

  Eventually the kids would get older and she could move out. She just had to get through the next few years; they needed food and clothes and shoes, and Robbie needed—

  Robbie would always need her. Even after all of the others had grown up and went on with their own lives and families, she’d still have to take care of him. The same with her mother.

  Natalie gazed across the pond, moonlight shimmering on its rippling waves. Bells tinkled around her. The city’s gates were closing for the night.

  She could run. Run, and never come back. Why not? Nobody would blame her. A dead father; a lame mother; an older brother who couldn’t even talk, but could certainly hurt people; and four other children who all cried when they didn
’t have enough to eat. Why the hell not run?

  More people passed, darted after by street kids who begged them for money. For some reason, they never came over to her. Even the ducks were waddling away with loud, irritated quacks.

  With an effort, Natalie heaved herself to her feet and, with one last glance toward the city gates, made for the Yellow Rose Inn.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Artis wasn’t in their room. It appeared as though he hadn’t come back yet; his weather-worn pack and extra clothes were still stacked neatly in the corner.

  Clothes!

  Natalie cursed. Her own pack and knife were on the bed, but she’d left her old clothes and work boots in Reg’s room back at The Maggie. She groaned in exasperation. Everything was going wrong today. She couldn’t walk back to Upper Angle in a fancy dress, and now she would have to go back and face Sir Edris and Reg. That wouldn’t be enjoyable. Still, she’d acted like a child and needed to apologize. They’d done so much for her, and she’d never really thanked them. Of course they might have a few choice words, but it didn’t matter. She had to do what was right—with them, and with Artis.

  Her stomach grumbled.

  Natalie felt the pouch Sir Edris had given her. There were probably thirty coins in it. Perhaps she could spare some to get a good meal that’d tide her over for a while. One last splurge on herself before she went home.

  She opened the pouch.

  “By the gods!”

  The big wonderful knight had given her gold! Ten…eleven…twelve—twenty-two gold coins. Gold!

  Natalie steadied herself against a chair. Twenty-two gold. That was enough to pay the landlord for all of the back rent and to feed her entire family through the winter. Hell, she could even buy the children warm clothes. And shoes! She could get them shoes!

  She laughed, then felt even worse than before. She hadn’t even said thank you.

  Right. Well, she’d remedy that. She’d go back to The Drunken Boar, throw her arms around Reg and Sir Edris, and tell them they were the best imaginary family she’d ever had. She’d also promise to stop acting like a royal pain.

  Twenty-two gold!

  That was certainly more than she could’ve gotten if she’d sold Brago’s books.

  Books…

  They had been stolen right from her room. She couldn’t leave the money lying about, and yet carrying so much made her stomach twist and tighten. Not knowing what else to do, she tucked the pouch under her clothes where no pickpocket could reach—not without getting a hard slap across the face, at any rate. Then she hid her knife in the folds of her dress. Nobody would steal this from her. Nobody.

  Twenty-two gold.

  Feeling now as light as her new dress, Natalie bounded down the steps to the common room, where the innkeeper stood with a couple, explaining that he didn’t know who they were talking about. Then Natalie saw the woman’s face. Hadley! And the boy with her was her brother, William. All three glanced up at her, but immediately resumed their heated discussion.

  Natalie ran up and hugged Hadley. “Had!”

  Hadley tensed, until recognition washed over her. “Oh, Nat!” She fell into Natalie’s arms, sobbing. William took off his hat, looking sad and uncomfortable.

  “When did you get into town? What are you doing—?” Natalie froze. “What’s wrong?”

  Hadley sniveled.

  Natalie looked over at William, who stared at the floor. “What’s this all about?” She shook his arm. “Bill, what happened?” He didn’t look at her. “Bill!”

  “Your house, Nat…” he said.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, it…it burnt down.”

  Natalie staggered back, her face suddenly feeling cold. For a moment, she thought she misheard him. He must’ve said something else.

  “Burnt…?” Natalie managed to say. The innkeeper caught and held her up. “My…my family? My mother and, and—”

  William frowned. Hadley sobbed. Natalie just stood there, numb. She barely felt the innkeeper lowering her into a chair.

  “I’ll go get you something to drink, miss,” he said. “No charge.”

  “Wh-what—?” Natalie stammered.

  They were dead? Her family? Her entire family? Dead?

  “It happened the day after you’d left,” William explained. “Hadley told me—” He glanced about the common room full of people eating and drinking. He dropped his voice. “She told me a few things, what’d happened and all. Well, maybe not everything, but enough.”

  “Are they…” Natalie said. “I mean, are you sure they’re—”

  William nodded, again glancing at everybody listening from their tables. “Perhaps we should talk in your room.”

  Natalie trembled. “How? How did they—? I mean…how do you know? Are you sure? Absolutely sure? What happened to them?”

  William fidgeted with his hat.

  “Billy! Tell me. What happened?”

  He and Hadley exchanged glances. “Robbie was run through. Someone…someone impaled him through the chest.”

  Oh, gods!

  The coldness in Natalie’s face crept over her body. As if from far away, she heard herself asking, “And…and my mother?”

  Hadley shook her head at her brother. “Don’t.”

  “Tell me, Billy. What happened to my mother and the others?”

  William tried to guide her outside, away from the eavesdropping crowd, but Natalie wouldn’t budge.

  “She was…” William began softly. “She was cut up pretty bad, Nat. The kids were killed in the fire, but your mother—”

  “Son of a bitch!” Natalie drew her knife, her icy skin turning suddenly hot.

  “What are you doing?” William asked.

  “Nat!” Hadley cried.

  “Stay here and wait for Art,” Natalie said. “I’m going to kill the bastard who did this.”

  Natalie made for the door, but William held her. “Nat, wait, you can’t—”

  She punched him square in the nose. William’s head snapped back, blood pouring from his nostrils as he fell to the floor.

  “Get out of my way!”

  “Nat!” Hadley shouted after her. “Nat! No!”

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Natalie stalked toward the Cathedral of the Stars. Although the evening was growing old, a few people were still out. Those she passed smiled at first, until they noticed the sharp knife glinting in her hand. They let her stomp by without comment.

  Not caring who saw her, Natalie stormed up the cathedral’s broad stone stairs and yanked on the doors. They didn’t open. She pulled harder.

  Locked.

  Above them, tiny gold bells jingled merrily.

  “Damn it!”

  Natalie stepped back and examined the walls of smooth black marble. She couldn’t climb them, not in a million years. Then she noted the first floor windows.

  Circling around to the west side of the cathedral and away from the busier streets of the city, Natalie approached a window hidden from view. She attempted to slide her knife between the panes, but the gap was too tight; she couldn’t reach the lock.

  In frustration, she thumped her fist against the thick, colored glass. The murdering bastard was in there somewhere, and she’d be damned if she’d let him get away.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Natalie slammed the knife’s handle against the window. Great sheets of red-and-blue glass crashed to the ground, shattering the calm autumn evening. She knocked the remainder of the shards away and climbed inside, cutting her hands and knees.

  She found herself in some sort of study, or maybe a small library, her blood dripping to the tiled floor. Large, leather-bound books lined the far wall. Various sheets of parchment covered a desk in the corner. Natalie hurried over to a door, shoes crunching on broken glass, and jerked it open. A dark corridor headed in the direction of the nave.

  Afraid her will might waver, Natalie forced herself to sneak along the ha
ll, knife in ever-tightening fingers, straining to hear over the bells tinkling outside and her own pounding heart. Up ahead, orange light flickered. She entered the west transept, and then the nave.

  Only a handful of candles were still alight inside the chamber, their beeswax burning low. Yet, despite the dimness, the high dome shone with the twinkling of thousands of stars. Hiding behind pews and pillars, Natalie crept around the edge of the nave.

  It was empty.

  She inched her way to the chancel. There, she found things amiss. The large, rectangular stone on the floor directly behind the altar had been moved to reveal a deep shaft plunging into musty blackness. Natalie listened over the hole. There was the faint trickle of water. Or was it the clink of armor? Did Brago wear armor? She couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter.

  Snatching a candelabrum with three lit candles, Natalie leaned farther over the opening. Its sides were lined with cracked, moss-covered red bricks. Rusty iron rungs descended vertically out of sight. She gagged.

  What was that stench? It smelled like…an open grave.

  Natalie recoiled. She couldn’t go down there. Who was she kidding? She was just a—

  Something moved in the darkness below. Now she was certain: somebody was underneath the cathedral.

  Thoughts of her family and what Brago had done to them hardened her resolve. She’d make that son of a bitch pay. She’d make him suffer. The question was, should she wait for him to come up, or should she go down after him? If she waited, she could easily stab him when he popped his miserable head up into the chancel. But time was running out. Surely somebody had heard the shattering glass. They were probably running to find a constable while she stood there, debating. She had to act quickly.

  Natalie scanned the nave.

  She was still alone. If she left, they might catch Brago and think he’d broken the window. So what, though? He’d give the church some money and be on his way. She wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

  Natalie considered the putrid hole again. It was dark, but not much darker than the woods at night. She could do this; she had to.