Starfall (The Fables of Chaos Book 1)

by Jackson Simiana

  “I hope to be a grandparent before I pass, Moon Mother willing. With such fertile plains on which Wesley can plant his seed, I am sure I will be so blessed,” Tobius said.

  The words made Jodie grimace. His presence had always made women uncomfortable. The old king had the face of a pig and the personality of a toad. He enjoyed the way he toyed with Ciana a little too much.

  The old pervert probably wishes he could be his son, right about now.

  Jodie peered over to Emery. The king was whispering and chuckling with his wife, Queen Sirillia.

  Sirillia looked far healthier than the previous night. Some colour had returned to her skin. It was good to see her out; she was too often bed-ridden.

  “My king, do you happen to know where Wesley is?” Jodie asked.

  Emery shook his head. “We assumed he was with Ciana, my lady.”

  Ciana had not mentioned seeing Wesley since dawn. Jodie thought to herself where he could be- probably still drinking his sorrows away or curled up in bed, head spinning from the night before.

  Bugles began to play as the crowd took to their seats, cheering and shouting with glee. The tournament was about to commence.

  The herald, a short, pudgy man with long sideburns stood atop a small platform and projected his voice out over the crowds. His ruffled yellow and white tunic, bearing the decorated spear sigil of House Seynard, made him look larger than he actually was.

  “Welcome all, royal families, barons and baronesses from across Alyria, noble lords and ladies, and our local townspeople, to the Andervale Uniting Tourney!” the herald announced, holding his red beret so it did not blow away in the warm breeze. His voice was surprisingly loud, given his stature.

  There had to be at least a thousand onlookers in attendance, Jodie estimated.

  “Today, we are here to celebrate the union between the kingdoms of Caldaea and Ashen! Please, congratulate Prince Wesley Seynard and Princess Ciana Blacktree on their wedding,” the herald shouted.

  The crowd clapped and cheered. Ciana blushed, waving to the crowd, the seat to her side still empty.

  The herald continued. “The Uniting Tourney is a tradition as old as Caldaea itself; a celebratory affair to be held the day after a royal wedding, to honour the love of the newly-wed couple, and to allow the Moon Mother to spread her grace and energy through her loyal subjects. As such, we wish that all patrons enjoy the tournament and the accompanying festivities!”

  The crowd again cheered, many holding up cups of drink and handfuls of food. The bugles standing in a row behind the herald played a song.

  “We will begin with the joust, followed by the melee. Knights from across Alyria have come to Andervale on this day to fight for glory and for gold! The winner of the joust shall receive one-thousand gold marks; the winner of the melee shall receive two-thousand gold marks! Please, give a hand and raise your voices for our competitors!”

  Dozens of knights in a range of shining armour sets poured onto the tourney grounds, each accompanied by a squire wielding a banner with their coat of arms. The crowd thundered with applause as the knights showed off their weapons and paced around the grounds like prized sheep.

  Jodie recognised a few of the knights. There was Ser Donald Veren of Andervale, infamous for the way he would knock out opponents with a single blow of his hammer during a melee; and Ser Nicolas Nelen, the White Warrior, of Stonebridge, from her hometown. She could recognise his white armour and the three striped bridge coat-of-arms anywhere.

  There were so many banners, however. Jodie struggled to identify most of the other coats-of-arms.

  After the knights paraded around the tourney grounds to the crowds’ delight, they headed back out and awaited the herald’s call.

  “We begin the jousting with Ser Jan Hyton of Dawnhill, versus Ser Erik Redmarch of Andervale. As per usual, the first man to be unseated from his horse is disqualified. Please, enjoy the tourney!” the herald finished.

  Ser Jan the Brave, riding a huge black steed, took up position at one end of the tourney grounds, while Ser Erik Redmarch mounted his horse at the other.

  “Ten gold marks on Ser Jan the Brave,” Petir said, raising his hand in the air and flicking the gold pieces between his fingers to try and tempt a challenger. But no one responded to his offer.

  Jodie studied the other competitor, Ser Erik. The man was probably a foot shorter than Ser Jan, and his horse was far leaner. Ser Jan the Brave was clearly the knight to put money on.

  “Ten gold marks on Ser Erik,” Jodie said.

  Everybody turned to look at her, mouths agape. It was not a womanly custom to gamble, and to put money on the knight less likely to win was foolish.

  Petir scoffed at his wife. “My lady, you must be joking.”

  She stared directly into Petir’s eyes with a playful smile. “I never joke when it comes to winning.”

  “It is not very womanly to bet on such things,” King Emery said, leaning over so as not to draw any more attention.

  Jodie shrugged, playing none the wiser. “I used to gamble all the time back in Stonebridge, and there’s one thing I learned when betting with men- if a man is so sure of a competitor as to place a high wager on him, call his bet.”

  “And why’s that?” Petir said.

  “Because if the man wins, he will feel bad for taking a woman’s money. And if he loses, the woman scores a big win, and a piece of his pride.”

  The bugles sounded as the joust began.

  Petir laughed at his wife’s comment as if it were the silliest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Either way,” Jodie said, “the woman wins. The risk is worth the potential reward.”

  Both knights atop their destriers began riding towards each other, galloping faster as they approached the middle of the arena.

  “Ten marks, I’m in as well,” Ciana said.

  Petir gasped.

  “Ciana!” Emery said, stunned. “No daughter of mine will be gambling today!”

  Ciana ignored her father, standing up in excitement as the two knights neared each other. The steads galloped at full speed, the knights held their long lances in one hand, wooden shields in another.

  The riders stayed on course, racing closer to the centre of the tourney grounds with the low-lying fence between them, keeping their tracks separated.

  Jodie watched closely with eager eyes.

  The horses reached the centre. The knights crossed lances.

  A shower of wood splinters shot into the air as the lances shattered against targets. Ser Erik’s lance hit Ser Jan the Brave’s well-positioned shield, while Ser Jan hit Ser Erik dead centre in the chest.

  Ser Erik flew backwards off his horse as he was struck, a large dent in his metal armour, before crashing to the ground in a puff of sand and dust.

  The crowd cheered as the knight was unhorsed.

  Petir stood up excitedly, raising his arms in the air and shouting in glee. “That will be ten gold marks, from each of you, thank you very much!” he laughed. “Most men may feel guilt over taking a woman’s gold, dear wife, but not I!”

  Jodie smirked while Ciana rolled her eyes at her brother’s boasting. They each handed the pieces to Petir, under the judging glare of Emery.

  The king was far too snobbish to be involved in gambling and was not at all impressed by the attention they had drawn to themselves.

  Despite losing the gold marks, Jodie still felt she had won. As a woman, gambling against men always revealed their true nature, she had found, and information can be far more valuable than gold marks.

  The injured Ser Erik was dragged off the arena grounds by his squire, clutching at his breastplate and groaning.

  Woman swooned, throwing flowers to the victor. The herald announced the next pair of competitors, and the jousting went on long into the afternoon.

  Petir continued to wager with other barons and nobles, ignoring his father’s disapproval. Jodie should have felt embarrassed by her husband’s actions, but truth be told, she could
not care less if he made a fool of himself.

  Jodie left her seat beside Petir and went to sit in Wesley’s empty spot next to Ciana.

  At least she is more tolerable company.

  The sweltering eastern sun was a little too much for Jodie. She had grown up in the cool, mountainous Midlands, where such heat was a rare occurrence.

  A servant handed her a hand fan to cool herself down with. Other Anai servants went around with refreshments and platters of small servings of seafood, dipping sauce, nuts, and fruit.

  By the time the melee had begun, Wesley had still not shown up. The red-faced King Tobius sent for a messenger to go look for him and request his immediate attendance.

  The herald announced the next knights to duel. “Ser Faron Colt of Veridia versus Ser Keiren Withermane of Redwatch!”

  The crowd cheered as the heavily armoured knights took up positions in the sandy arena. At the blast of the bugle, they began their melee.

  “Where is the prince?” Ciana whispered in Jodie’s ear, sounding a little concerned.

  “I don’t know.”

  Even Jodie was starting to become anxious. Where could he possibly be?

  The two duelling knights parried each other’s strikes with a clink of their swords. Ser Faron Colt used his shield to bash Ser Keiren away, followed by a quick counterattack. Tobius clapped as he drank from his goblet.

  The messenger arrived back but was immediately stopped in his tracks by Ser Isec, who wanted to verify his identity before allowing him to approach the king. Tobius waved the messenger through; the young man was wide-eyed and out of breath.

  “My king,” the messenger gasped, bowing.

  “Yes, yes, what is it? Where is my son?” Tobius said. His gaze did not avert from the two knights brawling.

  “My king, we have found him, but he is wanting-”

  “Good!” the king bellowed. “Then why didn’t you bring him to me like I asked? Hmm?”

  Ser Faron Colt in the arena knocked the helmet off Ser Keiren with the pommel of his sword. The crowd went wild as Ser Keiren desperately chased after it on his hands and knees.

  “My king,” the messenger stammered, bowing once again. He did not want to offend. “Prince Wesley is… he’s requesting to fight in the melee. He is…quite drunk, my king.”

  “He what!?”

  Jodie lowered her forehead into her palm. Ciana smirked, while Petir let out an audible snicker. This was an awful look for the Seynards.

  The bugles down in the arena began to play. It caught everyone off-guard. All eyes went down to the arena where Prince Wesley stumbled towards the herald with a cup of wine in his hand. He wore his chainmail suit, plate armour and a long cape with his family’s colours. His sword hung from the scabbard at his hip, and he held his helmet by his side. His messy hair blew in the hot breeze.

  “What in the Moon Mother’s light does he think he is doing?!” Tobius spat.

  The crowd mumbled to themselves, confused by what was happening.

  Wesley handed his cup to a confused Ser Faron Colt, who took it much to the crowd’s amusement.

  Ser Isec knelt before King Tobius. “My king, shall I remove him from the field? We cannot guarantee his safety down there.”

  Tobius ignored the worried captain, curious to see what his son was up to.

  Wesley appeared to whisper into the herald’s ear, struggling to keep his balance. The herald repeated what he said apprehensively. “Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, Prince Wesley Seynard is requesting to participate in his own Uniting Tourney!”

  The crowd rumbled with adrenaline, making the stands shake. Tobius became infuriated but couldn’t even find the words to use, simply exhale and pounding his fist against his chair.

  Wesley had broken far sooner than Jodie was expecting.

  The herald continued with a smile. “And who, my prince, do you intend to duel against?”

  Wesley glared out over to the stands and pointed. “Prince Petir Blacktree!” he shouted.

  Cheers and claps were followed by mumbles. Jodie gasped, looking over at her challenged husband. This was not what she had planned.

  “I wish to take you up on your offer from last night, brother,” Wesley said.

  Petir stood up proudly and bowed to his challenger as a mark of acceptance. “Someone fetch me my armour and my weapon.”

  Both the kings, Tobius and Emery, leapt to their feet, struggling to convince Petir to ignore the request.

  “This is not a good idea,” Ser Isec said.

  “Stop this at once!” Tobius shouted.

  “Now, now, my king, is it not the right of the husband to fight at his Uniting Tourney? It is, after all, his wedding, and his celebrations,” Petir said.

  “This is foolish!” King Emery said, blocking Petir’s path. “The man is clearly drunk. Do not make a fool of yourself, sit back down at once.”

  “Father, it would be an embarrassment to our family to ignore such a request. I am a prince- I will do what I must. Fear not! It’s all just a bit of fun,” Petir said with a smirk.

  Jodie knew it had nothing to do with honour or fun. The two princes had a long rivalry. Her husband only wanted to knock Wesley into the ground and make a fool of him. The last thing the man needed was another addition to his ego.

  “Petir, please,” Jodie said, grabbing his arm as he was about to make his way down the stands. “Don’t fight him. Just leave him be.”

  “What kind of man would I be if I refused?”

  “An intelligent one.”

  Petir smirked and kissed his wife’s cheek. He made his way down towards the arena. His servants began outfitting him in his armour.

  Jodie sat back down next to Ciana, gritting her teeth with angst.

  “This wasn’t what we planned,” Ciana whispered.

  “No… no it wasn’t.”

  Jodie ran through the scenario in her head. They had only planned to break Wesley down, so that the marriage to Ciana could be annulled and she would be free of her father’s matrimonial arrangement without hurting their family’s reputation.

  But after last night, Jodie wondered what Wesley might reveal to Petir in his drunken state? Would he tell Petir the truth of their long-running affair?

  Could this work out better than what we had initially planned? Will I be free as well?

  Chapter 17 - Masks

  Katryna Bower marched through the gardens of Castle Bower, heading for an overlook where the guards had informed her that she would find the diplomats from Ember. Her eyelids were still heavy like bricks, even after her breakfast with Aunt Rashel. Her head was fuzzy.

  Be it mental or physical exhaustion, Katryna was as determined as ever to keep pushing forward, no matter how tired she felt.

  Infinity Guardsmen were stationed at every few crossroads in the gardens. They stood tall, long spears by their sides, and almost perfectly still, aside from the bow they gave to Katryna as she walked by.

  They finally seemed to be recognising her. Obviously, word has reached the rest of Castle Bower that I have arrived back in the capital.

  One foot in front of the other. She passed through a grove of overhanging oak branches, flanked by rows of rocky outcrops, flowering bushes, and tropical plants. The floor was a carpet of grass, soil, crunchy leaves, dandelions, and wildflowers.

  Leaves fell from above, floating down peacefully in a rain of red, orange, and green. The gardens were alive with rainbow butterflies, buzzing bees and iridescent dragonflies.

  But Katryna did not have the time, or will, to admire the beauty surrounding her. She had one goal on her mind, and one goal only- to find out who had poisoned her parents. How did they do it? Why did they do it?

  Where these diplomats from Ember responsible in some way?

  Katryna’s pace was faster than a walk but not quite a jog. She stepped with determination and a fierce anger. There was no time to grieve, no time to collect her thoughts. She needed answers. It could be the difference between life
and death, not only for her father, but any other potential targets to come.

  She rounded a bend lined with lush hedges, at the end of which she saw the overlook that she was heading for. At the edge of the gardens ahead was a cliff, some one hundred metres high, where the edge of Castle Bower’s outer bailey ended as it met the seaside cliffs.

  It was a sheer drop- Katryna remembered when two daring servant boys had jumped from the cliff for fun when she was young, thinking it would be a thrill. One had drowned, and the other had broken both legs on the jagged rocks below.

  The tides were still low, as the moons were not expected to arrive until the next day. The stone and sand beaches, as such, were larger than usual, with low waves stirring kelp along the coast.

  The overlook Katryna was walking towards, however, was a great place to watch the sunrise. It was a grassy area where the garden opened at the cliff’s edge, covered by a shade structure with climbing vines growing up its height.

  At the opening of the grassy outlook stood two Infinity Guardsmen at either side of the path, shields in hand and with gleaming metal suits of armour.

  Katryna spotted the two Emberian diplomats resting on some of the stone slabs which sat around the overlook as seats.

  The diplomats marvelled at a flock of coastal drakes circling a school of fish in the shallow sea below. The size of large hounds, the drakes flew with four wings extending from their slender bodies- one connecting to each outstretched limb, like a bat. They splashed around with flopping fish in their long beaks as they dove into the water.

  Katryna watched the coastal drakes fly up from the waves and then dive back down in a surreal pattern.

  “Quite spectacular, aren’t they?” Katryna said aloud in polite a manner as possible.

  The two diplomats stood up, turning to face her. They wore ankle-length, tight-fitting robes of expensive orange and brown silks, with bright red trim and exquisite geometric patterns all over.

  The taller diplomat spoke, “Indeed they are. You call them ‘coastal drakes’, yes?”

  “That’s right. You don’t have any so far south, in Ember?”