“Of course, Princess Victoria,” he stated oilily. “I am Crloc, Captain Guard to King Gaarder. We shall accompany you to the capital.”
“We would be honored by your company, Captain Guard Crloc,” Victoria stated carefully. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence, so far from His Majesty’s right hand?”
“I lead the Rehmans’ Charge, milady,” Crloc said darkly. “When given word, we are sent to hunt loose wielders.”
“I trust mine will be allowed safe passage,” the princess did not ask.
“They will remain unharmed, Your Majesty,” Crloc promised. “If they wield no magic.”
“They will respect your laws, Captain Guard,” she said with royal constraint. “As long as we are safe.”
“And your large friend who still sleeps?” he asked.
“Waking him abruptly would be a mistake,” she warned. “Not even your great armor would keep you from harm. I’ll make certain my men rouse him in due time.”
“As you wish.” Crloc bowed his head. He turned to the archer. “Please help them as needed, Kansel.”
The reaction had not been good when they summoned their swifen. Every sword was unsheathed and at the ready and, faster than the eye could see, Kansel had notched an arrow in his bow. Crloc commanded the unnatural beasts be dismissed but, as horses were unavailable, Victoria successfully negotiated a temporary pass until they could be acquired. She now rode behind Crloc and attempted conversation while Angst stared on in anger and frustration.
“Did you know, Angst?” Hector whispered. “That she was on official business?”
“No,” Angst said coldly.
He wanted to lie and say yes, say that his closest friend would confide in him about everything, including state matters. She hadn’t, and he felt emptiness in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what else was truth and what was lies. They had shared so much, he felt so close to her...too close to her. She trusted him with everything, even lying in his bed naked. Was that simply an extension of her trust, or did she mean something else by it? Victoria muddled his emotions, yet insisted they were only friends. He’d never asked for anything more, barely even considered it, but Tori...she didn’t just cross lines he wouldn’t—she trampled on them, jumping up and down on the line until it couldn’t be seen.
Angst was conflicted, more so than usual. It took every ounce of energy just to stay in his saddle, and now he had to remain alert in case Crloc and his Rehmans’ Charge mistakenly tried to kill his friends and abduct the princess. He was in poor condition to tackle the confusion she had left him with, but he felt used, and stared bitterly at her back, which was arched and tense. Had he been a fool this entire time, or was this a test? She had to have reasons for keeping this secret. That was it, she had to have reasons. He didn’t like it, but this was about Unsel and had nothing to do with him. More than likely.
“No,” he stated once more. Angst shook his head and forced a smile. “I’m sure she meant well, or was commanded by Isabelle, or something in between. Either way I believe in her, and support what she’s done.”
He watched as her shoulders and back relaxed at his conclusion.
Hector nodded and said nothing more.
They rode at a steady pace the first day, stopping at an inn where Angst got less rest than he had the night before. Despite Crloc announcing they were guests and guards weren’t necessary, every two to three minutes, the antsy soldiers casually walked the hall where Angst and his friends slept. How could they sleep while she could be in danger? Unable to contact the princess, Angst worried desperately for her safety. Every time he opened the door and peeked into the hallway, Angst was met by cold eyes and strangled courage.
“Do you need something, Mr. Angst?” the soldier said, his voice dripping with disdain.
“The princess...”
“She still dines with the Captain Guard,” he stated. “I can pass another message to her.”
“How long has it been? She doesn’t eat that much!” Angst said in frustration, his lip curling slightly.
“I can pass another message to her.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
Late into the night, a note appeared under his door. He grabbed it hungrily. It was in Victoria’s handwriting, and written with her temperament.
“I’m fine. I’m doing my job. Get some rest.”
The note didn’t help his disposition, but it was enough to make Angst remove his armor and lie in bed. He worried about Victoria, and fretted over Heather. Maybe he was in the wrong place, after all. Maybe he should’ve been at home, tending his wife and preparing to be a father. Guilt was poor bed company, but without any distraction, he fell asleep early the next morning.
31
“It’s hard to explain, Paul. I don’t hate the magic-wielders,” Myreb said in a less-than-convincing tone. “It’s just...well, they’re unpredictable. All that power makes them dangerous.”
The fifteen-year-old nodded in agreement, as he felt he must, but this didn’t seem like a complete answer. At least not the answer he sought. He sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue with his father. He squeezed his legs tight against the saddle fender and stirrups as he struggled to remain on his horse while simultaneously gripping the large flagpole set in a saddle sheath near his left foot. His slightly oversized steel helm bounced in time with the flag.
“Do you need magics to carry the gold and green flag of Unsel?” Myreb beamed at him with pride, eyeing the flag Paul held.
“No, sir,” Paul said.
“Exactly! Nobody here wants to rely on something...unnatural to do their job,” Myreb continued to explain. “Do you?”
“No, sir,” Paul agreed.
Paul looked around to see the hundred soldiers on foot following in tight formation as they made their way through a path framed by thick woods. It felt as though every one of them was listening to this conversation. The men were tired and cold, their faces grim, but those nearby nodded amicably at Paul’s father.
“We don’t want the magic-wielders to hold our flags, or fight our battles!” Myreb stated, now loud enough for more men to hear. “Relying on their magics to defend our borders means we’re defenseless without them. That gives them more power than the magic they wield.”
“But what if they want the same things we do?” Paul asked.
“Well, they may seem to want the same things, Paul,” Myreb replied, seeming surprised the conversation wasn’t over. “But they just aren’t like us, and their needs are different.”
Paul’s shoulders dropped in obvious discouragement and, for a moment, it looked as though he was going to let go of the flag. His leather gloves squeaked as he gripped tight to the pole and held it close. The gold and green flag now leaned at a slight angle toward the young man.
“Just be proud of who and what you are, my son,” Myreb declared. “One day you’ll understand.”
A knight in well-decorated plate armor quickly approached them from the path ahead. Vapor shot from his mount’s nostrils as the horse strove to catch its breath.
“Captain?” the knight stated as he pulled his horse next to Myreb’s.
“Report,” Captain Myreb commanded.
“Good news, sir. There are only a dozen of the creatures guarding the sinkhole,” the knight stated in a deep voice. “A mere mile ahead.”
“Excellent!” Myreb said with a wink at Paul.
He held a balled fist up in the air. Soldiers readied their weapons and braced for battle. The low murmur of excitement seemed to warm them as they finally approached their quarry. The forest opened to a clearing encompassed by snow-covered trees. A cloudy haze of frosty air hovered close to the ground, lingering over clumps of kneegrass and small bushes.
Thud-dum.
Thud-dum.
“What’s that?” Paul asked, looking around the forest for the source of the sound.
Myreb swallowed hard and dismounted his horse. It pranced nervously, and he patted the beast to calm it. He could he
ar the men shuffle as anticipation made way for fear. The steady thud-dum continued, like the footsteps of a mountain, or the heartbeat of Ehrde. Anxious soldiers looked about, seeking the giant beast. Myreb listened for several minutes then, finally, turned to his regiment.
“Steady men!” Myreb yelled. “Just the sound of the monsters tunneling echoing off nearby trees.”
The voice of reason was hard to hear over the reality that filled their ears.
Thud-dum.
They walked an anxiety-laden quarter mile, surrounded by blustery winds and the loud heartbeat. When the sinkhole came into view, the soldiers stopped moving forward without being commanded. Where the surrounding forest met, there was an unnatural gap. A mile-wide hole had eaten every bit of tree or brush, and behind that, another enormous sinkhole had devoured more of the old forest, going back farther than the eye could see.
Thud-dum.
“Nobody does this to Unsel!” Myreb shouted. “Nobody does this to my country!”
Soldiers yelled in agreement, and they marched forward to the dozen gargoyle creatures guarding the cliff edge. Steam rose behind the creatures, and water dripped from their slick bodies as though they were sweating profusely. The gargoyles stood like enormous statues, in spite of the soldiers’ approach.
“You ride over there,” Myreb told Paul, pointing to distant brush. “No fighting, just watch how it’s done. Hold that flag high!”
Paul looked at his father. He wanted to stay and help, or wish his father luck, or say something heartfelt, but knew he couldn’t in front of the other soldiers. Paul nodded in understanding, and rode a hundred yards away so he could watch the battle from a safe distance. He dismounted and pulled the large flag from its saddle sheath. Paul held the flag high, as commanded, and watched, and listened.
His father gestured at the monsters as if scolding them. Paul could soon hear yelling as Myreb pointed a threatening finger then shook a fist. The creatures took no heed, as though participating in a rude prank. After a final warning, the veteran soldier wielded his sword and swung. His blade passed halfway through the gargoyle he faced then stopped.
“By the Dark Vivek,” Myreb said loudly.
The gargoyles seemed to smile as their heads simultaneously turned to face the soldiers. The gargoyle in front of Myreb backhanded the man so fast its arm was a green blur. Myreb flew high into the air. Even before the captain landed, the gargoyles smashed into the troop of soldiers like an avalanche covering a small village.
“No!” Paul screamed as he ran toward his falling father.
It took Myreb a full minute to land before finally crashing to the ground in a loud, broken heap of armor and twisted limbs. His father pushed himself up then rolled over onto his back. Paul ignored the screams of soldiers, the horrific wrenching of metal and crunching of bones. There was only his father. When the young man arrived, he could see that Myreb’s left arm was nothing more than a shattered mess of destroyed armor and torn flesh. His father’s bloody face was almost unrecognizable as it began to swell from the two impacts. Myreb coughed blood as he tried to speak.
“Help me to see,” he spat through blood.
Paul kept holding the flag with one hand and offered his free hand to his father. Myreb winced and grunted as he positioned himself to view the utter ruin that used to be one hundred good men. Gargoyles ripped and stomped on the few remaining soldiers, leaving behind dying screams and dead bodies.
“Paul,” Myreb choked out the last of his life. “You must warn the queen! Tell her what happened. Quick, run before—”
A gargoyle landed nearby with a solid thud, followed closely by the others. The dozen monsters appeared unharmed from Unsel’s attack, and they towered over Paul and his father.
“Always be proud of who you are, son,” Myreb commanded as a large, webbed foot landed on his chest and crushed the remaining life from him.
“Father?” Paul questioned in disbelief. “Father!”
Paul turned to face the creatures, tears streaming down his cheeks. The gargoyles stared at him with dull, uncaring eyes. He shook with fury. He let go of the flag. A painfully white aura of bright light surrounded Paul’s hands and forearms as he aimed them at the two closest. Before the flag hit the ground, four of the gargoyles were destroyed.
“She actually screamed before passing out. Can you believe that?” Jaden said through the stone.
“Um, no. Of course, that’s awful. I felt terrible for her,” he lied in response, glad she wasn’t there to admonish him.
Jaden had wandered the long hallway toward the old throne room, hoping another investigation of the spot where Chryslaenor had been taken would turn up something. Events were unraveling, and the alien surroundings overwhelmed him. His thoughts were so cloudy, and he wanted more than anything to remember who he was and where he came from. His only distraction, his only ounce of relief, came from time spent communicating with the earthspeak taught to him by Earth.
“You look nice today,” he said, trying to change the subject. “Of course I can’t see you. I just know...you always look nice.”
“Now that I’ve got this mostly figured out, are there any messages you want me to pass along... Wait, I hear something.”
Jaden stopped moving. With tiny steps, he made his way to the wall, inching closer to the noise coming from an adjoining servants’ hallway.
“Yes, I gave it to him. I don’t care what you think!” a young woman’s voice whispered loudly. “I don’t answer to you, only to—ouch!”
“You do answer to me until I’m told otherwise,” an older man said. “Believe me, young woman. You would prefer my disciplines over his!”
“You are a disgusting old man!” she squeaked, sobbing as if in pain.
“As old as death, just like you!” he replied. “Don’t forget where you came from. I’ll gladly send you back!”
She squealed louder and then cried out.
“You will be wise to remember this, girl,” the old man snapped. There was a loud thump as if a body had fallen to the ground. “Get it back when he returns, if he returns. Understand?”
“Yes,” she replied in a pained voice so quiet Jaden could barely hear it. “Do we have to do this?”
There was a loud crack, perhaps of hand against cheek. Deep sobs sounded from the corridor.
“Ask one more time, and I will tell him every transgression,” the man said. His voice dripped with disgust. “And you call yourself royalty.”
Noisy armored footsteps stormed down the servants’ hallway, leaving behind a young woman’s wracking sobs.
Jaden peered around the corner to find Alloria in a heap on the floor. Her purple satin dress was torn from shoulder to chest, as though she had been lifted up by her wrist—which was red and swollen. Jaden rushed in, wielding his shortsword.
“Your Majesty!” he said. “Are you okay?”
Alloria sniffed loudly between sobs and stood. Shivering, she wiped tears from her cheeks. She appeared disoriented, unable to decide what she should say. Her large eyes widened in panic, and she looked down the hallway to make sure her attacker was gone.
“I’ll get that bastard,” she said, still gasping for air. “Tell no one of this!” Gripping her dress tight to her chest, she rushed down the hallway.
Jaden stared after Alloria, dumbfounded.
“Victoria, are you still there?” Jaden said through the stone. “You won’t believe what I saw.”
32
The next morning, Victoria joined Angst on his swifen, and he was comforted that she rode with him instead of Crloc. Something about the man made his jaw set and his teeth grind. Crloc was a bully, and Angst had no tolerance for those people. Her attentions toward Crloc, no matter how politically motivated, made him want to lash out. This couldn’t be jealousy, he was just being over-protective, but he couldn’t help but feel something was off.
All morning she appeared lost in thought, occasionally giggling to herself. She cocked her head to one side as though l
istening to something far away, occasionally giggling to herself.
“So, did you have a nice time last night?” he asked, attempting to snap her out of it.
“What?” she asked. “Oh, yes, Crloc. He’s sweet, and sort of cute.”
“Of course,” Angst said, rolling his eyes. “I supposed you’ll be dining with him again tonight.”
There was another long pause as Victoria seemed, once again, lost in conversation. Angst remained quiet until her back arched stiffly.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said distantly.
Angst rolled his eyes in an arc so wide his neck followed. It was as though she was talking to someone else even though he was the only one nearby. He wanted to know about the dinner, about what she had learned, and if they needed to prepare for anything. He also wanted to know about the lie, or the omission. Why hadn’t she told him this was official business? Why bother fighting Hector when she could have commanded an official escort? More than anything, he wanted Victoria to share openly rather than making him ask.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Angst finally blurted out. “I didn’t know this trip was official business.”
“I’m sorry, Angst. I can’t tell you everything.” Victoria said, this time more direct, as though she sat in front of him.
“Since when?” he asked.
She reached for his hand, tucking her fingers under his gauntlet, making contact with his skin. Angst jerked his head back in surprise; they didn’t hold hands. She must have been worried that he was upset—which was unusual, but sweet.
“Where did the ring come from, Angst?” she whispered, now clutching his hand.
“Wait.” He tried to jerk free, but it only took a moment to think of Alloria standing in front of him, pulling the little nightshirt down before leaning forward to kiss him.
“I don’t believe it,” Victoria said loudly, looking for an armor-free place to slap him. “Stop right now!”
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