The Legend of Brigaard

by Horace Armstrong

  ‘You will present yourself to the king tonight. If you fail to come, I will hunt you to the end of the world and tear you into a thousand pieces.'

  Ceriuz grabbed the weeping girl and left.

  The king was apoplectic with rage. He showed little mercy to Zoorv who begged and pleaded piteously. The girl’s father wanted Zoorv’s head, but the King refused.

  ‘No…no I will not kill him, even though I want to. Instead, I will banish him from Pitsland forever.’

  He turned to Zoorv, who was writhing on the floor like an animal.

  ‘You will leave Westlavia tonight, never to return. If you are ever sighted in these parts, you will be slaughtered like a hog. That is my decree.'

  Zoorv left in disgrace that night. For 15 years, nobody saw the disgraced wizard in Westlavia or any other part of Pitsland. He, however, came back, like a severe rash, to become even more entrenched in the royal household.

  Ceriuz had gone on a pilgrimage to a land far away. He went around the same time every year and stayed for three weeks, to clear his mind and refocus. Immediately he stepped back into the Royal Castle; he could feel the malevolent force of evil magic.

  ‘Zoorv,’ he thought, a frown creasing his features. As he entered the castle, greeting guards and men at arms his anger grew. The King had forgiven Zoorv, but why? He went to his room and dropped his burlap bag. There was a different air in the castle, but he could not put his finger on it.

  A chambermaid knocked on his door minutes later.

  ‘The King wants you to join him for dinner,’ she said. Ceriuz nodded. He was incensed that Zoorv had been allowed back into the Castle. Was he living here, or did the king have the good sense to at least keep him at a distance? His presence was overpowering, like a foul odour in a windowless room.

  The king was in an expansive mood when he saw him. He was aging badly, too many drunken nights and rich food. His belly, which used to be flat and rock hard bulged out, and wrinkles lined his face. His brown eyes, were still youthful and mischievous, to Ceriuz, he would always be the young boy that caused havoc all over the castle. The Queen was with them and their two sons, Jaks and Daarrk.

  They were very alike the princes, both incredibly handsome and athletic with dark, brooding looks. Jaks was all but a man, and there was an assiduity to the way he carried himself even at 16 that showed he would be a fine leader. Daarrk was the quieter of the two. He was aloof, even for one so high-born.

  The Queen, even in her middle-aged was a raven-haired beauty and was the source of her sons looks.

  ‘Ceriuz, my beloved sorcerer, how was your trip?’

  They ate and talked about other things, the king looking for an opportune time to explain Zorrvv’s presence.

  He finished his second mug of beer and brushed morsels of food from his dark graying hair.

  ‘I suppose,’ he said, after belching loudly, ‘you have heard that Zorvv is back?’

  ‘I felt his presence from a mile away my lord.’ Dark eyes appraised him from bushy eyebrows.

  ‘I owe him a lot.’

  He glared at Daarrk who reddened and bowed his head.

  ‘That one fell from his horse and landed severely in a ditch. He broke his neck and an arm and was close to death. He lay there for a whole day before we found him. By the time we brought him home he had a fever so bad we had thought he wouldn't last the night.

  The Queen spoke, her voice like a summer’s day melody.

  ‘The royal physicians worked on him for days, but his fever wouldn't go down. Then his leg started going green with gangrene we…we thought we were going to lose him.' Her voice had become querulous as she relived the moments.

  ‘You were not around, and we were desperate. Then I remembered Zoorv, and I begged the king to find him for the sake of our son.’

  ‘I dispatched my best men, and they found him living in the woods. He was brought back to Westlavia and nursed Daarrk back to health. Without him, my son would be dead or disabled. I owe him a debt of gratitude.'

  ‘I understand…is he here?’

  The king nodded sheepishly. ‘I gave him a room in the castle, far from you, in the East Wing. You don't have to see him ever, but he is a useful man to have around, and I made him swear never to go near any Pits girl again.'

  Ceriuz was troubled. Zorvv was evil. He could sense it, sometimes he had notions of all the past evils he had done, but there was nothing he could do but hope that the king would not regret it one day.

  Over the years Zoorv’s influence grew until he had more of the king’s ear. He was particularly influential with the young prince Daarrk, whose life he had saved twice. It was with great alarm that he learned the king had made Zorvv, Daarrk’s tutor. He had gone to see him immediately and protested, but the king only scoffed.

  ‘You have no time, or I would have appointed you to be his tutor like you did Jaks,’ he said. ‘Who better to teach Daarrk on the finer points of life, arts, science and languages than Zoorv? Apart from being a Wizard, he is a man of great learning.'

  That was several years back. Now, sitting in his tent, the Jaks dying a few meters away from him, Ceriuz regretted his complacency. He had no doubts that it was Zoorv that had somehow steered Daarrk to fratricide. Now Jaks lay dying, his infant son and young queen in danger. He knew that the moment the crown was placed on Daarrk’s brow their life was in danger.

  At that moment his tent was swept open and a head poked in.

  ‘The prince wants you, old one,' the soldier said and disappeared.

  When Ceriuz entered the tent, his heart leaped into his mouth. The kings' head was covered by a white sheet, by his side were Daarrk, Muchee, Boday and the royal physician. Wordlessly, he went to the Jaks and uncovered his head. The king looked like he could have been asleep; so peaceful and child-like was his face. He muttered a prayer and covered the head.

  He looked at Daarrk with his rheumy eyes and the Prince bowed his head slightly. If there were any doubts before, Ceriuz had none. Rage like a volcano welled in him, and he trembled before he spoke, ‘Bow…bow to your new King Daarrk.’

  Muchee and Boday got slowly to their knees. Ceriuz glared at Daarrk before slowly joining them.

  Chapter 14

  The Queen tickled her son's tummy, and he squealed in delight his chubby legs moving vigorously and tiny toes curling in delight.

  It had been a difficult pregnancy, it took almost a day to deliver the young prince safely, but he had finally come, bring joy to Jaks and Ermamai.

  Drizul Castle had been transformed with the arrival of Jaks’ first son. There was a joyful buzz and air of happiness around the place in the two weeks before Jaks had left to confront the dreaded Osterlays who were knocking at the door of the Westlavia kingdom.

  ‘I won't be long,' he had said, looking handsome as ever as he kissed his young wife and new-born son. He was dressed in full armour, more for the crowd that gathered at the entrance of his castle to bid him and his men farewell, than for anything.

  ‘I promise I will be back.’

  Queen Ermamai sighed deeply. Still no word from Jaks. She was so happy a week ago when a rider had come with the news that the Osterlays had been defeated and the vast army was on its way home. But they hadn't arrived three days ago as expected, and now she was worried - even Diks, the ordinarily stoic commander that was left in charge of the defence of Westlavia couldn’t disguise his worry when he had visited her in the morning.

  They had met in the gardens, the beautiful young queen anxious for news and the burly knight who had none to give her.

  ‘Do not worry my Queen. I have sent riders, and we should have news soon. I am sure they are on their way. The Osterlays have been defeated but perhaps there are a few skirmishes here and there to mop up'

  She straightened and brushed a long golden strand from her forehead.

  ‘Take the prince,' she said to her most favored lady in waiting, a skinny amiable girl no older than her.
Surleei was at their side in an instant and picked up the young prince, who she loved as if he were her child.

  ‘I am going to the library; see I am not disturbed.' She left the royal chamber, nodded to the stalwart guard who guarded them in the corridor and made her way, up three flights of stairs, down a hallway until she came to a locked wooden door. She unlocked the door and stepped into a room which was dominated by a massive wooden table on which lay several scrolls and writing materials. The walls were lined with shelves that stacked hundreds of manuscripts, parchments and scrolls with all subjects from science to history and wizardry. She spent most of her days here with Ceriuz - who managed the library - much to the dismay of castle staff and the bemusement of her husband. Why would a woman, let alone a queen be bothered with learning, when there were more critical undertakings to be done they asked themselves. She didn't care though; her father had not seen that she could read and write merely to manage the day to day running of a Palace; not that she took her wifely duties lightly.

  She would spend hours in the library with a scowling Ceriuz. At first, the taciturn wizard had tried to dissuade her, but even at his age, he was not immune to the charms of the beautiful young queen, especially as she had a thirst for knowledge that the Princes Jaks and Daarrk did not.

  He was soon tutoring her on her favorite subjects, history, literature, and philosophy. When he had left for the battlefield, he had solemnly handed over a spare key and blushed as the queen placed her soft lips on his weathered cheek in thanks.

  It was cold and musty in the library. She got a scroll from a shelf and sat to read. In a few minutes, she was engrossed in a piece of Westlavian prose - to the extent that it took a while to notice the dark figure by the window.

  There was a raven on the window sill. She was just about to ignore it when her eyes caught something gleaming in its beak. Taking her oil lamp, she walked towards the window thinking the bird would take flight but it simply stared at her.

  She gasped as she saw what the raven was had, a signet ring that seemed familiar. Fear clutched at her heart as she unlatched the window and held out her slim hands. The Raven dropped the ring in her hands and flew in the room noisily. She scrutinized the signet, it was Jaks; there could be no argument.

  She turned to the raven who perched on the back of a wooden chair, the cold icy clutch of fear, tugging on her breast as her worst fears seemed to be confirmed.

  She started as a voice emanated from the feathered beast.

  ‘No time can be lost Milady. I bring word about your King from Ceriuz.’

  The queen was shocked at a talking bird but recovered quickly.

  ‘Tell me all. Leave nothing, not one word.’

  Kenioons black eyes regarded the queen; suddenly he felt sad - unwilling to break the awful news.

  ‘He is dead isn’t he?’ The queen whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’Kenioon said, and its glossy head dropped.

  She staggered to a chair and sat wearily. ‘Milady?' The queen looked up at the raven, tears streaming down her chalk white face.

  ‘There’s no time to waste, even as we speak, a rider races to Westlavia with instructions that put your life and the Prince's in danger. There is no time for grieving we must act in haste.'

  Diks read the scroll his heart sinking. He stared at the young rider, who was nursing his shoulder.

  ‘The King is dead,’ he said, barely above a whisper?

  ‘Yes, I would have gotten here hours earlier but an accursed raven spooked my horse, and I fell off. My shoulder was so badly hurt; I couldn’t ride as usual.'

  Diks was not interested in the rider’s shoulder.

  ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  The words of the message in the parchment sealed with prince - no the new King Daarrk’s - seal chilled him. The orders were clear and left nothing in doubt. The Queen and her baby were to be taken to Selmiuv, Boday’s duchy, for "their protection." He was to lead them there, hand them over and return to await further instructions.

  His hands shook as he read the message. He was too long in the tooth not to know the implications of the order. Many would be outraged if the queen and the heir to the throne left Westlavia castle. Many would guess the purpose, the queen and the infant prince were nothing but hostages of their uncle and that fat debauched oaf Boday. Rage welled in him. He was put in an impossible position that would be pivotal for him and the kingdom. If he resisted the order, he would be deemed a traitor by Daarrk, Boday and their supporters but if he handed over the Queen and Prince and God forbid they were harmed, there was another faction who would be loyal to Jaks and his son, which would see him as betraying the rightful heir to the throne.

  He dismissed the rider after swearing him to secrecy. What bad luck he cursed. To be struck by an Osterlay arrow after a bruising victory.

  Jaks dead?!! He could scarcely believe it. After a few minutes, he made up his mind. He would take the Queen to Selmiuv alright, but he would not leave her there. He would take twenty men, who would serve as the queen’s guardian and would remain in Selmiuv until Daarrk came back. Then after the council met, hopefully, they would resolve this nonsense. The Queen of Westlavia and her child belonged in Westlavia; the capital. Inevitably Daarrk would be compelled to see reason. He got up; now there was a small matter of convincing the queen to leave with him. God help me if she resists; it could get messy.

  Diks and four heavily armed men marched through the dark corridors of Westlavia castle leaving a buzz in their wake. It was 12.30 pm, but there were still many servants awake, and they wondered what the protector was doing with four stalwart men at this time. They met guards in strategic position, and each time they consented to their superior until they reached the queen's bodyguard at the entrance to the corridor that led to the Royal chambers. He was an immense man of legendary prowess. Even with four men, Diks knew that a conflict would be bitter and bloody.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘We have orders to take the queen and prince into our protection?’

  The man, who stood a head taller than Diks blanched.

  ‘But that’s impossible,’ he gasped. Diks frowned suspiciously.

  ‘Here,’ he said handing him the parchment with Daarks signet mark.

  ‘The..the King is dead?’ he gasped.

  Diks nodded, himself weary. ‘The queen, we need to take her away now.’

  To his horror he saw a big tear come down the guards ruddy cheek - Jaks was a popular and much loved king.

  ‘I must come with you, wherever you go,’ the guard said, fighting back the tears. ‘I am sworn to protect the queen and the babe.’

  Diks nodded, now anxious to execute his command.

  ‘Let us through.’

  ‘She's not here; she is in the library, has been since 9.'

  ‘Library?’ Diks said astounded. ‘Whatever for? It’s full of books.’

  The guard shrugged. ‘She goes every-night; come - I will lead you there.'

  ‘What about the Prince?’

  The guard reddened. ‘He is with her; she ordered the lady Surlei to bring him to her.’

  Suddenly Diks heart hammered in his chest.

  Could it be she knew?

  ‘Let’s go.’ The six men hurried through corridors and upstairs until they got to the library. It was shut. ‘Break it down,’ Diks ordered after had banged on the door for 5 minutes.

  It took 10 minutes for the door to crash down, but they finally entered the library. It was empty. Cold, dusty but empty. Diks entered, an oil lamp illuminating the room.

  He turned to the guard, who shrugged.

  ‘You are sure she was here?’ He asked gruffly.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘She often comes here at night to read.'

  Diks moved further into the room, leaving his men in the doorway. He looked around the room with the keen eyes of a trained observer. Nothing seemed out of place until he spot
ted a feather on the floor.

  Bending down he picked it up, a black raven’s feather. He was puzzled. There was a big cupboard just by where he had picked the feather. Instinctively he tugged at the handle, and it opened. It was empty. He was just about to turn away when he saw another feather?

  ‘Thurmaz. Come here,’ he said, calling to the burly guard. He handed him the feather.

  ‘A raven?’ Thurmaz said confused? ‘How?’

  ‘That's what I like to know.' He stared at the wood covering of the cupboard, something about it didn't seem right. He removed his sword and prodded with the sharp point of his sword, and it pierced the thin wood easily. ‘What the blazes!’ Diks swore. He pushed until his sword went right through. ‘There's an opening here,' he bellowed. Quickly, he slashed and cut until there was a jagged man-sized hole that revealed a gap.

  ‘They were here,’ he said almost to himself. He turned to Thurmaz. ‘They went down here, a secret passage.’ He stood up frowning. This was getting worse and worse.

  ‘The Queens escaped with the Prince. Get two men, follow them through this passage. You,' he said to a ferret-faced guard. Get word to the head of the castle grounds, and nobody is to leave the castle until I say so…come on, don’t just stand there…get moving!’

  Chapter 15

  Precisely at that moment, on the south side gate. Two soldiers were on night duty as a cart driven by a sturdy horse approached. The leader and older of the men straightened. It was cold, and he was hungry, and in a bad mood, it wasn’t helped that his companion was a silly callow youth who in his book was not fit to be a stable boy never mind a soldier.

  ‘Halt,' he commanded, and the driver of the cart brought his horse to a halt. The guard instantly recognized him; he was a stable boy, a straw-haired youth who smelled worse than the horses he took care off.

  ‘Nowhere above the eagle’s nest!’ The boy said, saying the password that would grant him exit from the gate.

  What was he doing going out at this time of the night the guard wondered. But he was too tired and too hungry to ask. He grunted and waved him on. As the cart passed, he heard a noise.