Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  Her words are so simple, and yet they perfectly describe the unexplainable feeling that rises in my throat every time that I think about Bellator. Could it be that somehow, I had actually started to care about her?

  “It sounds like they're done shouting now,” Marianna says, and I notice that the air has grown quiet. “We should probably get back before it grows dark. Will you return with me, or are you planning to leave for good?”

  I pause, thinking it over. The only thing in my mind when I stormed out was that I had to leave before I said something to King Leonel that I would later regret. I feel an unusually fierce desire to protect Hamish, but I also know that my prolonged stay may only serve to hurt him.

  It’s only for a little while longer. Where else can I go?

  “I will return, for now,” I reply heavily.

  We turn and start back toward the courtyard outside of the palace. As we approach, I hear low voices coming from behind the wall. I gesture for Marianna to quiet her walking. Together, we creep closer to listen. But as we near the wall, we both begin to regret coming to eavesdrop.

  The tones belong to none other than Hamish. His voice is shaky, and I realize with a start that he is crying.

  “—no matter what I do or say, he always finds something to shout at me about,” he is saying. “Since I arrived, he has not said a civil word to me. Nothing that I do pleases him.”

  “I know,” a woman's voice replies wearily. “He's a very selfish man. But he has chosen it for himself.”

  I recognize this voice too, surprisingly. It is the same guarded, unfeeling voice of the woman I met in the hall with Kenet.

  “Why?” Hamish sputters. “Why does he hate me so much? I need to understand. How can I prove myself to him?”

  She sighs. “Don't bother with him. He's engulfed by his own pride and there is nothing that anyone can do to change him. All that you can do is focus on being the good man that you want to be.”

  “But it is hard! I've been away for three years! Three years, Nerienda, and he acted like I had been gone a minute! He barely said two words to me, and since then he has treated me like a failure. A disgrace! As if I live only to disappoint him!”

  “He has no right to be disappointed in you. Believe me, Hamish, you'll be a much better king than he could ever be.”

  “Do not say that,” Hamish says uncomfortably.

  “But it's true. You are kind, something he hasn’t been in a very long time. Yet still you listen to his criticism.”

  I can hear a weak smile in his voice as he replies, “Well, he is my father. I do not really have a choice in the matter, do I?”

  “Then there's no use crying about it, is there? Dry your eyes and I'll see if I can get you one of those cream puffs that you like so much from the scullery.”

  “I am not a child anymore,” Hamish says, but he sounds more cheerful now.

  “Nonsense. You'll always be my little prince, even if you live to be a hundred and fifty.”

  That coaxes a quiet chuckle out of him, and their footsteps start toward the palace.

  I glance at Marianna, whose mood has been dampened. Sympathy is etched into her face.

  “Who is this Nerienda?” I whisper once I’m certain they have gone.

  “She's his nurse,” Marianna explains. “That is, she was his nurse, when he was much younger. They've formed a bond, though. You see, the day Hamish lost his brother, he also lost his mother. She passed away while giving birth to them. Nerienda had recently lost her own child, so she was brought in to nurse him. Eventually, she became a mother figure to him. But the king would rather Hamish not be so attached to a servant, so I have gathered, and Hamish thinks it may be one of the reasons he was sent to study in Lavylli for the past three years. He believes his father was trying to break their bond, trying to force Hamish to 'grow up'.” She heaves an indignant sigh. “The thing is, he is already more grown up than any fifteen year old has a right to be.”

  “I've noticed,” I say, forgetting that I myself am fifteen.

  There is a long veil of silence as Marianna delves deep into her thoughts again.

  “Oh dear,” she says suddenly, turning her gaze to the dusky sky. “It's getting dark quickly. We should return.”

  We hurry toward the gateway and find Jambeau in the process of closing the front gate.

  “You're both late," he says with a frown. “My lady, the queen has been looking for you for quite some time now.”

  “We're deeply sorry,” Marianna says with a polite curtsey, but there’s a look of annoyance behind her smile.

  “Well, get inside then, the both of you,” he says, and the gates creak as he swings them shut.

  I take note of her quiet irritation. “Do you dislike Jambeau?” I ask as we walk toward the main doorway.

  She shrugs. “I don't dislike him. There is just something about him that I don't particularly like. It's probably just me. He is, after all, the closest thing to a friend that Hamish has.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Bellator also had misgivings about him. But he seems alright to me so far.”

  “He is. He's very kind." She hesitates. "It's probably his missing hand that throws me off. No one really knows where he lost it... But speaking of Bellator, that reminds me; are you planning on going back to Arnon to finish recovering the arrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good!” And with a delighted bounce to her step, she skips the rest of the way inside.

  I don't have the heart to tell her that this time, I intend to go alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Y

  ou want to go back?” Hamish exclaims incredulously.

  “Shh!” I hiss, glancing across the lawn from beneath the shade of the apple tree under which we are crouched.

  Nerienda is barefoot in the grass, bent over a patch of carnations growing along one side of the garden door. We haven't spoken since our encounter on the stairway, but after hearing her comfort Hamish following his fight with his father, my respect for her has deepened.

  Hamish lowers his tone. “But why leave so soon? Do you not like it here?”

  “Oh, of course I do,” I reply quietly. “I have been treated better here in the past three days than I have been in my whole life. But you don't understand. I have to finish what I started. And tonight is my last chance to get into the castle for a month.”

  His eyes are alert with interest. “Why is it so important to you? You can trust me, you know.”

  I glance over the lawn again to make sure that no one is listening. Then I lower my voice even more. “Have you heard of Zeldek?”

  He frowns. “The mythical master of fire and darkness, right? The traitor.”

  “Yes, that’s him. Well, he actually exists. He lives in a fortress in the far north.”

  Hamish barely bats an eyelid. “The stories never did tell how he died.”

  I pull off my glove and show him the mark on my palm. “He kidnapped me, and gave me this. Bellator helped me escape. We were after the Arrow of Arnon, which is supposed to contain enough power to keep Zeldek from destroying the world. I made a promise to her that I would recover it, and I will do anything in my power to keep that promise.”

  He stares at my burn, horrified. “Once you have the arrow, how do you plan to stop him? Will you fight him?”

  “Well,” I gulp. I’d never really thought of what I would do after breaking the spell on the arrow. “Honestly, I don’t know. I'd never be strong enough to fight Zeldek alone. Besides, I'm not really the fighting type. I suppose I'll find someone else who can wield the arrow if it comes to it. But first, I have to break the spell.”

  “What about me?” he says. “I can come with you, if you will have me.”

  “I’m not putting you in danger like that again.”

  “You would not be putting me in danger,” he says with a smile. “I would be putting myself in danger.”

  I shake my head. “It's too risky.”

  He’s not persu
aded. “You might have escaped the wolf, but that snake is still lurking around there. If the Crimson Shadow could not defeat it, neither can you. You will need help.”

  He has a point.

  “But if you come it’ll eat both of us,” I point out.

  “Look, we do not have to go alone. I shall talk Jambeau into coming with us. He would commit murder for me if I told him to.”

  “Oh? So that's how it is, is it?”

  The disembodied voice comes from the tree above us, and we both look up. Jambeau is sitting on a thick bough, mostly concealed from view by a thick array of emerald leaves and ruby apples. He gives us an impish grin, and pulls an apple from a branch above him, taking a slurping bite.

  “Yes, you would,” Hamish shoots back good-naturedly. “Pass down two of those red ones, would you?”

  Jambeau shakes his head disapprovingly, but plucks two more apples from the tree and tosses them down to us. I catch mine, but Hamish's bounces off of his forehead and rolls onto the ground. He bends down to retrieve it.

  Jambeau scrambles off of the branch, using his hook as an anchor, and scurries down the trunk of the tree. At the bottom, he turns to us, his humour fading.

  “Hamish,” he says slowly, “I only heard bits and pieces of your conversation, but I don't like what you are planning. Whatever reason you have, I don't think it wise for either of you to go back there. The two of you and the Lady Marianna almost died last time. And from what I've heard, Ealdred, your master did die.”

  He seems oblivious as to whom my ‘master’ was and I realize that Hamish must not have told him the full truth.

  “Besides,” he continues, “what would your father say about you repeatedly endangering yourself like this?”

  “Fine,” Hamish says, dusting off his apple. “I will not go if you insist. You just have to go along with Ealdred and keep him from getting himself killed.”

  Jambeau doesn't look convinced. “Hamish, that place isn't safe. I'm not going to turn a blind eye to anyone who wants to go back there; not even at the behest of the crowned prince.”

  Hamish frowns, his mouth full of apple now. “Some friend you are.”

  “I am your friend,” Jambeau continues calmly, “and for that reason, I don't want to see you hurt again. What’s more, I am a knight of the realm and the captain of the guard in Gerithold. I mustn't abuse my authority. You know that I can't risk losing my position. I've worked too hard and given up too much.”

  There is a sense of loss in his tone that is reflected deeply in his eyes.

  Hamish grows more sympathetic. “I know,” he says, “but there is a lot at stake here. All you need to do is get him in there without anyone finding out. I am sure that he knows what to do from there.”

  I try to look as if I do, but I don't. In fact, now I don't even have the prophecy to go by. Besides that, there is a growing unease in the back of my mind regarding Jambeau. True, he defended me against Leonel that first night when I met them, but Bellator had been enraged at the mere mention of his name. She had been right about Leonel. Could it be that she is also right about Jambeau?

  Jambeau frowns. “I'll think about it. For now, why don’t the two of you stop consorting and go and do something less suspicious. Perhaps show Ealdred the armoury or something.”

  Hamish brightens up, throwing away his apple core. “Good idea!”

  I smile in gratitude, and hurry after him as he runs toward the palace. As I approach the door, I slow down. Nerienda is still bent over her flowers, running her hands through the dirt around their roots. She glances up as I pass by and I stop. I look down at my apple, which I’d been turning over in my hands while Jambeau and Hamish were arguing, and hold it out to her.

  “What's this?” she asks, a mixture of annoyance and confusion on her face.

  “For you,” I stammer. “I- well, I just thought you might want it.”

  She pulls her hands out of the dirt and wipes her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead. There is a slight tremor to her hand as she takes the fruit from me.

  “Thank you,” she mumbles, setting the apple on the ground beside her. Then she buries her hands in the rich earth once more.

  Feeling a bit stupid, I turn and enter the palace. Hamish leads me down a flight of winding stairs into the vaults under the palace. He pushes open a door that is streaked with dust and cobwebs and lifts an already lit torch from the wall.

  I take a few steps into the room and then turn in a circle, my breath leaving my lungs in amazement. The walls are lined with swords, spears, axes, maces, bows, quivers of arrows – any and every kind of weapon that you could imagine. Suits of armour glisten along the walls as the fire dances from the torch in Hamish's hand.

  But he doesn't seem to notice any of it. Instead, he walks toward a stone table set in the centre of the room. I follow him, marvelling at the different shields and crests. There is something about it all that both thrills and horrifies me at the same time.

  On the table, set on a white and gold embroidered cloth, is a sword. It is indeed stunning. The blade shines as if it were made of the purest silver. Two poised, golden dragons with eyes of pearl make up the cross guard, and a blue sapphire sits between them. White velvet is bound around the grip, held in place by bands of gold studded with tiny sapphires, and the pommel is a small sapphire with waves of golden fire encasing it.

  “This is Stormcrest,” Hamish announces with pride, “the sword of the kings of Valamette.”

  I whistle. So this is the sword that Kenet tried to steal. I understand now why he wanted it.

  “It is said to have been enchanted by the Vaelhyreans long ago and holds power that only the king of Valamette himself can wield.”

  “Is that true?” I ask.

  He shrugs. "Father says that when he is holding it, the blade glows a faint blue and feels as light as a feather in his hands. If anyone else tries to wield it, it will grow so heavy that they will be unable to bear its weight. As for the power that the myths claim it holds, nothing of the sort has been documented for centuries.”

  “Does it glow for you yet?”

  He shakes his head. “My father says that I am unworthy of it. I must make myself into a king before I will be able to wield it." His tone is light, but there is doubt in eyes as he gazes wistfully at the sword.

  “Don't worry,” I assure him. “It will glow for you soon.”

  He shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back, and changes the subject. “He will agree, you know. Jambeau, I mean. He is just cautious. After all that he has sacrificed, I would be too.”

  I want to ask what he means, but I don't want to pry. Instead, I ask, “Why didn't you tell him about Bellator?”

  Hamish turns away from the sword. “Because, it would have hurt him terribly to know that she's dead.”

  “Hurt him? I thought they were enemies.”

  He shakes his head. “Oh no. From what I have gathered, they actually used to be friends. But he refuses to talk about it, even with me.”

  I recall her mentioning that she had once had a friend, and that he had betrayed her. I wonder if that friend had been Jambeau.

  The air resonates with deep, thoughtful silence for a time. Then Hamish starts toward the door.

  “Come on,” he says. “Perhaps we will have time for a ride before dinner.”

  We retrieved Majax and Nimro from the woods the day after I came, and now they are enjoying the luxuries of the palace stables. Nimro seems to have taken a liking to Hamish already, and I've decided to leave him with the prince when I go.

  I follow Hamish out of the armoury and we turn back toward the stairway leading up to the main level. Out of nowhere, a great weight falls on my chest and I vault forward. My amulet falls from my tunic, suddenly gaining a mind of its own, and jerks me in the opposite direction. I cry out, groping for a place in the wall to hold onto and stop myself, but it overpowers any strength that I possess. I am forced to follow its lead.

  “
Ealdred!” Hamish calls after me. “Where on earth are you going?”

  Shock renders me speechless as my amulet drags me away.

  I hear his footsteps charge after me, but the amulet is forcing me to run faster than I normally would ever have been able to. I reach out and grasp the pendant in my hand, pulling on it with all of my might, trying to halt it. It doesn't work. Thinking quickly, I grab the chain on which it hangs from the back of my neck and try to jerk it off. But the chain is twisted up to my throat and won’t fit over my head.

  A flight of stairs drops in the darkness beneath my feet, and I would have tumbled down them had not the amulet been holding me up. At the bottom of the stairs, my feet splash through a puddle on the floor. The air has grown musty, and the walls that I grab onto are slimy with mould.

  “Ealdred!” Hamish calls from somewhere behind me.

  I know it's no use even trying to answer. I am already further underground than I am sure is allowed for someone of my status.

  At last, the medallion seems to reach its destination. It lurches to a stop before a set of double doors. They swing open before me, and the amulet throws me forward. I stumble into a large room and the pendant drops to my chest with a thud. I blink, looking around.