Fate of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  "And what about Life Magic?"

  "Outside of the elements, there are four additional schools," she continued, "life, enchantments and of course the forbidden arts of death and hex magic."

  "And so you're saying any school could use this orb of light?"

  "If they learned how to cast it, yes," she said, eager to share her knowledge.

  "Interesting, but perhaps we should save this discussion for later. We have more pressing business."

  "What business is that?" she asked.

  "Don't you want to see what's at the bottom of those stairs?"

  "Oh, of course," she said. "Sorry, I was so engrossed in the discussion."

  "Just like your mother," he beamed. "Now, lead on, Aubrey. You're the one with the glowing ball of light."

  She returned her attention to the stairs and concentrated on the light. It drifted from her hands, floating down the stairs as she watched. She began to descend, the orb illuminating the way.

  The stairs ended at a dirt floor. To the side, directly under the library, was a brick-lined room, matching the dimensions of the space above. There was little here in the way of furniture, however, save for a lectern in the centre which held a large tome, and a worktable and chair that lay against the north wall.

  "What do you see?" called down her father.

  "A rather bare room," she replied, "but with a book taking a place of honour in the middle."

  The sound of her father coming down interrupted her perusal. She moved into the centre, allowing him access as she examined the lectern. The book was closed, so she floated the light over it to study it in more detail. It was leather bound, with metal clasps holding the pages together. She carefully reached out and turned to a random page, her eyes confirming what she already suspected. "It's a book of magic," she said, awe filling her voice.

  "Magic? Are you sure?"

  She waved him over, pointing to the page she had revealed. "This is just handwriting," she explained, "but this," she stabbed down with her finger, "is a magic rune, part of the magical alphabet."

  "I've heard you mention that before," he said. "It's a universal language, isn't it?"

  "Yes, that's right. It's the same in every tongue."

  "Are you saying your great-grandmother was a mage?"

  "I don't know yet, I'd have to read through this. It may just be random notes about magic."

  Lord Robert smiled at his daughter's interest, "I'd say it's more likely she used magic. It seems she went to a lot of trouble to create this room. Why do so just for a book about magic? No, I think she must have been a mage, though why she didn't tell anyone is an absolute mystery to me."

  "Perhaps the book can tell us more," she said.

  "Well, I would suggest you get busy. It looks like it'll be a long read, even for you."

  "What about the mess upstairs?" she asked.

  "Don't worry about that," he answered in reply. "I'm sure this room is fine for your practice, now that I look at it. You study the book, I'll go and fetch us some food. I have a feeling we're not going to pry you from that," he pointed at the book, "until you've found your answers."

  * * *

  By the time the first flakes of winter arrived, Aubrey had studied the book in great detail. Now she stood before it, ready to resume practicing her spells. Setting the lantern on the table, she then moved to the dead centre of the room, by the lectern, to begin the incantation that would produce her customary orb of light.

  The familiar words came quickly to her while she held out her hand for the glowing sphere to appear. As the last word tumbled out of her mouth, the customary ball of light burst forth, but far brighter than she had ever experienced before. She jumped back in surprise. With her mental concentration broken, the orb disappeared, returning her to the dim light of the lantern.

  She cast her eyes about, but the room held no surprises, at least not that she could see. Perhaps, she thought, she had merely made a mistake in casting. She steadied her nerves and began the process anew, careful to use the correct pronunciation.

  The orb reappeared, once more with a brilliant light. This time Aubrey didn't flinch, but instead, looked around the room yet again, trying to ascertain what was affecting her spell. Her eyes fell to the table. She had often sat there perusing the great tome and she wondered if perhaps it held something, for it was the only explanation she could think of. She had examined the lectern in great detail and the chair was nought but a simple wooden construction, incapable of hiding anything.

  She kept the orb suspended and made her way to the table, intent on finding its secrets. She examined the top, the sides, even going so far as to crawl underneath it and inspect the underside, but to no avail. She sat down, once more looking about the room. It must have been some time, for she suddenly found herself in darkness, her spell expired. She recast the glowing orb, only to notice the light was dimmer, rather than the brightness she had come to expect. She glanced back to the lectern; had she missed something?

  Returning to the centre of the room, she cast again, the orb once again blazing. She wished, not for the last time, that Master Bloom was here to explain things to her, but then grew stubborn. She knew she was well-educated; surely there must be some way to figure this out! She decided to move the lectern, to see if placing it near the table made any difference.

  The wooden structure was too heavy to simply push upright, so she moved the book of magic to the table and then tipped the lectern, in order to drag it. What she discovered surprised her, for stone could be seen beneath its base. She stared down, not quite believing her eyes. Placing the stand back to its original position, she knelt, digging through the dirt floor with her hands. A moment later, a stone floor was revealed.

  She sat up in surprise. Was the entire floor made of stone? Intending to find out, she rushed from the room to look for a shovel.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, she stood gazing down at the newly revealed floor. Made of carefully fitted grey stone, the real prize was the embellishments, for now, with the dirt removed, she saw the magic circle that had been hidden all this time.

  She had read about magic circles, of course, but never had she seen one in person. It took up most of the floor, save for the north wall where the table sat, along with heaps of the newly displaced dirt. It was actually two circles, a smaller one within a larger, with runes of power that embellished the space between them. These circles, she knew, amplified the effects of spells cast within, enabling the caster to unleash greater power.

  The sound of a distant voice interrupted her thoughts. In her desire to unearth this treasure she had lost track of time, and now her name was being called out, likely summoning her to dinner. She looked down at her hands, filthy from her work. The task of carting out the dirt would have to wait. For now, she must return to the manor and play the part of the disinterested daughter.

  Two

  Bodden

  Winter 961/962 MC

  A thin blanket of snow had settled over the land, giving it a peaceful look as Baron Richard Fitzwilliam stared out the window from his beloved map room. His thoughts were interrupted by Sir Gareth.

  "How long till they come, Lord?"

  Fitz turned from the windows, "Oh, I expect it will be some time, yet. It's unlikely they'd bring a siege to Bodden in the winter. How are the defences going?"

  "They are going well, Lord. The new ditch is complete, and we've reinforced the main gate. When they finally do arrive, we'll give them a fight worthy of the trip to the Afterlife."

  "Good," said Fitz, "and the training?"

  "All able-bodied men are training hard. A lot of the women wanted to help too, Lord, so we've got them learning to use the bow."

  "I shudder to think of the loss of life a siege will bring," said Fitz.

  "They have given us little choice," Gareth reminded him.

  Approaching footsteps drew their attention as a woman entered the room.

  "Lady Albreda," said Fitz, "good t
o see you."

  "Richard, Sir Gareth," she replied, nodding in greeting, "I come bearing news."

  "Which is?" asked the baron.

  "A group of riders approaches from the east. I've had them under observation for some time."

  The baron looked to Sir Gareth in alarm, then returned his gaze to Albreda, "How many?"

  "Fifty-three, to be precise," she answered.

  "Rather an unusual number," he replied.

  "They'll have a hard time sieging us with so few," offered Sir Gareth.

  "Fifty or so men would hardly constitute a threat," the baron mused. "Can you tell us anything more about them?"

  "Yes," she said, "three of them wear chain with metal plates, so I can only assume they are knights. The rest march on foot, and appear to be soldiers of some type."

  "Perhaps they're bringing an ultimatum," offered Gareth.

  "With fifty men and three knights?" said Fitz. "I hardly think that likely."

  Albreda moved to the eastern facing window, "If you look to the great elm yonder, they should soon come into view."

  Fitz turned his gaze to the window, conscious of the closeness with Albreda. "I see them," he said, "though I cannot make them out clearly. I wish I were younger; my eyes were so much sharper back then."

  Albreda put a hand on his forearm, "Your eyes are fine, Richard, I can't make out details, either. They are, indeed, a long way off, but they do not appear to be brandishing weapons. In fact, now that they've cleared the elm, I see they have pack mules following."

  "Pack mules?" said Sir Gareth in disbelief.

  "Intriguing," said Fitz. "I wonder who they might be?”

  "Shall I send out troops, my lord?" asked Gareth.

  "No, let them ride closer. Send for Sir Heward, have him meet us at the gates to Bodden, perhaps he can shed some light on our visitors."

  "Are we to fight, Lord?"

  "We'll see what they want before I put any of my men in danger. We can talk to them from the gate-tower, but let's take no chances, have the archers man the walls."

  "Aye, Lord," said Sir Gareth, turning to leave.

  "Do you think them a danger?" asked Albreda.

  "I have no idea," said Fitz, "but I intend to find out."

  * * *

  The gate that led into the village of Bodden was guarded by a ditch and drawbridge, a recent addition that Fitz took great pride in. In times past, he had considered such a defence, but the amount of work required was overwhelming. It was Albreda that had supplied the answer, for the Earth Mage had used her magic to move large amounts of dirt, thus creating the ditch.

  They kept the drawbridge down, of course, for farmers frequently travelled back and forth, but when the strangers appeared, Fitz had ordered that the portcullis be lowered, blocking any entry. Now, they watched from the tower as the strangers approached. They were still out of bow range when Fitz turned to Sir Heward.

  "Do you recognize any of them?" he asked.

  "No, Lord. Nor their armour."

  Fitz nodded his head in agreement. Armour was very personalized, and many a warrior could be recognized simply from what he wore. "I wonder who they are," he mused.

  The visitors halted, and two of the knights rode forward while the third waited with the men. As they came within earshot of the gatehouse, they raised their visors, calling out as they did so.

  "Who commands here?" came a suspiciously familiar voice.

  "I do," answered Fitz. "Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden."

  The two knights looked at each other and then one removed his helmet, riding a little closer. "It is I, Sir Rodney, Lord. We have come to serve you."

  "Sir Rodney?" called out Fitz. "Surely not, he'd be an old man by now."

  "I am indeed, Lord," the knight replied, "and yet, still able to swing a sword. I bring with me two gallant knights of your acquaintance, Sir James and Sir Randolph."

  "Saxnor's beard," exclaimed the baron, turning to Heward. "Open the gate, I'll go and talk to them."

  "Is that wise, Lord?" said Sir Heward.

  "Fear not, they are old friends."

  Fitz descended the steps while the portcullis was raised. As soon as it was high enough, he ducked under, making his way toward the two knights.

  "Sir Rodney," he called out, "I see that old age has not dampened your spirits."

  "My lord," Rodney replied, dismounting, "it is so good to see you again."

  "Whatever has brought you to Bodden?" asked the baron.

  "We heard of the rebellion, my lord, and have come to offer our service. We have even brought footmen with us to help in the cause, volunteers all."

  "You are, of course, welcome here," said Fitz grasping Sir Rodney's hand, "though I fear it is likely to be a short rebellion. The king has, no doubt, heard of it by now, and soon an army will come to crush us."

  "Then let them come," said Rodney, "and we'll make a stand that will live forever in the annals of history."

  "You remember Lady Albreda?" asked Fitz, leading them through the gate towards the Keep.

  "The Witch of the Whitewood?" asked Rodney.

  "I prefer the term ‘Druid’,” said Albreda, "though mage will do in a pinch."

  "I meant no disrespect, my lady," said Sir Rodney. "You grace us with your presence."

  "Tell us, Sir Knight," she continued, "how did you come to Bodden?"

  "Well, not long ago, all the knights of the realm were summoned to Wincaster. Once we arrived, we were informed that the king was forming an army to march and suppress a rebellion in the north. Questions were asked, and when the king revealed that the baron, here, was guilty in a plot against the crown, the news did not sit well with some of us. The king immediately insisted that all his knights swear fealty to him, but we three left quietly and resolved to bring our men north, to aid Bodden."

  "Did you see any sign of the royal army on your march north?" asked Fitz.

  "No, Lord. We took the road westward and came up through Redridge to avoid the king's allies in Tewsbury. We heard that Marshal-General Valmar was to lead the army up through Uxley, then to Tewsbury and west along the northern road."

  "And the rebellion? What do you know of it?"

  "There are stirrings of rebellion in Wickfield and Mattingly. It is said even Hawksburg plotted against the king, though we only have his word for it."

  "Valmar is a ruthless man," said Fitz. "I fear he will use his army to exact personal revenge for imagined slights."

  "What shall we do, Lord?" asked Sir Gareth.

  "Let us retire to the map room," said the baron, "and there, perhaps, we will find clarity."

  He led them through the village, heading toward the inner Keep. They were about to enter when Sir Rodney halted suddenly. He stopped at the inner gates, a look of wonderment on his face as he stared at the broken portcullis.

  "What happened here?" the aged knight remarked.

  "Albreda," explained Fitz.

  "The metal is twisted and broken," observed Rodney. He turned his gaze once again to the druid, "You are very powerful, my lady."

  "I know," she replied, "and yet why, I wonder, do men always find it surprising? Can a woman not wield immense power?"

  "I meant no offense," he reassured her.

  "And I have taken none, Sir Knight. I am merely amused. Come along, we are almost at the Keep itself, and the baron will have fine wine waiting for us."

  "I will?" said the baron, almost chuckling.

  "Of course, Richard, what else would you have for such old friends?"

  "Very well, I'll call the servants."

  It turned out to be unnecessary to call anyone, for the faithful retainers of Bodden Keep had seen them coming. The entourage made their way to the map room, where wine waited for them

  "Here we are," said Fitz.

  "Just like old times," remarked Sir Rodney. "I see little has changed, Lord."

  "I'm afraid much has changed," corrected Albreda. "Richard has lost his daughter, and the tyrant o
f a king wants him dead. Perhaps you enjoy this situation, Sir Rodney, but I get little entertainment from it."

  "My apologies if I have offended you, Lady," said the knight once again. "I merely meant-"

  "I know what you meant," said the mage, "and I know you mean well, but these are tumultuous times, and we have much to do."

  "Yes, well," interrupted the baron, "shall we continue the discussion?"

  Everyone gathered around the table where a map of Merceria had been laid out.

  "We are facing an uncertain future," started the baron. "As Albreda has said, the king is coming for us, or at least his army is."

  Someone chuckled.

  "You find something funny, Sir James?" asked the baron.

  "No, sorry, my lord, but I was just thinking of our new king. I doubt anything would convince him to command an army."

  "I might remind you," continued the baron, "that he was with the army at Eastwood."

  "Yes, my lord, though he had little to do with its command. I believe it was you, was it not, that controlled the army?"

  "It was not," answered Fitz. "Admittedly, I dealt with the army of the Earl of Shrewesdale and Gerald Matheson lead the other half. The overall command of the army fell on the shoulders of Princess Anna."

  The room fell silent for a moment.

  "She shall be sorely missed," said Sir Gareth.

  "Indeed she shall," added the baron, "but now we must consider our future and make plans."

  "What think you, Sir Rodney?" said Fitz.

  "I think we should go on the offensive, Lord," replied the aged knight. "If rebellion truly is building in the north, perhaps we can fan it into an open flame."

  "An interesting idea," replied the baron. "I shall have to think it over. In the meantime, gentlemen, I would suggest you see to your men and then get some rest. You've had a long ride, and no doubt you are weary. We'll reconvene in the morning and see what we can come up with."

  They all filed out of the room save for Albreda, who remained by the window, gazing east. Fitz saw the other knights out then turned, surprised to see her still present. "Something troubling you, Albreda?"