by P D Ceanneir
This was the queen’s son, and his.
Barnum handed the boy over to the wet nurse at his side and the child was taken away from Havoc’s sight, he suddenly felt very down as he watched the boy and the nurse disappear into the tall tower of Balael House. The child never took his eyes off Havoc as he looked over the girls shoulder.
Barnum noticed the prince staring after the child.
‘Prince Havoc, Lord Soneros, welcome to Balael, I hope you both had a pleasant journey?’
‘Yes thank you Atyd Barnum, it is kind of you to invite us in,’ Havoc said exuding charm and gratitude that he did not feel.
‘I shall have food prepared for you, my lord,’ Barnum’s voice was emotionless, his dislike for the prince increased as he watched him staring at the retreating child.
The conversation at Barnum’s table was amiable but stilted. Soneros Ri talked the most and he got the impression that both the Atyd and the prince were making a poor effort at small talk for his benefit. Eventually, the Ri explained to the prince that the queen was a few miles north at the construction site.
‘Construction site?’ asked Havoc raising his eyebrows in wonder, ‘what is being built?’
‘You shall see soon enough,’ said the Ri with a smile.
As soon as they left Balael House the awkward tension Havoc and Soneros felt from Barnum lifted. Both men galloped north in silence. Havoc deep in thought and Soneros judging the prince’s mood correctly.
Did Barnum know that the child was not his son? He was not stupid, he must have some suspicion, and the boy even looked a bit like Havoc, though, more like his mother.
After an hour’s ride, the Ri stopped them on a high ridge with few trees on it. Down below was a round grass covered valley with the construction site. A thousand Falesti were hard at work in the noonday sun.
‘Behold, Lord Ness’s dream, The Cybeleion,’ said Soneros Ri.
Havoc peered closer to the building work. A huge behemoth of a Sky Ship, surrounded by wooden scaffolding, and what looked like a green tarpaulin over the top of it. Gangways and planks stretched from the scaffolding to the ridge ledge cut into the edge of the valley for access to the building works. Soneros Ri took the prince to one of these.
Several Falesti workers, alerted to their arrival, called out towards the ship and none other than Queen Bronwyn came to greet them. She was just as beautiful as Havoc remembered her. The long dark hair tied behind her in a pigtail using a silver and emerald clasp. She wore a plain dress of lime green velvet and a thin fox fur jerkin. The prince knew she was never one for dresses, but on this occasion, she had no choice, as she approached him he saw she was at least seven months pregnant, her flushed face bloomed with a smile for him.
‘It is so good to see you, Havoc,’ she said kissing him on the cheek.
‘You look radiant, Bronwyn, as always. Pregnancy suits you,’ he said and meant it.
‘Thank you, have you been to see my husband?’ she looked worriedly at the prince and Soneros Ri coughed and walked away from them, giving them some privacy to talk alone.
‘Sadly yes,’ said Havoc and the queen saw he was upset.
‘Did you see Lorimar, your son?’ she whispered.
‘Is that his name?’ smiled Havoc, ‘good name, yes I saw him, but only briefly, Barnum does not like me very much does he?’
‘Do not be too harsh on him, he is actually a good man, he loves me and adores Lorimar, I could not ask for a better family. He and I may have different personalities, but we have found a mutual balance with each other.’
Havoc was silent for a while as he walked over a wide gangplank beside Bronwyn.
‘Does he suspect that Lorimar is my son?’
‘I think so,’ sighed the queen, ‘but chooses to ignore it, he has been a better man since I have become pregnant with his child. I know it’s a girl.’
‘You do, how?’
‘This one sleeps when I sing,’ she laughed rubbing her swollen belly, ‘that’s how the Falesti can tell the sex of the child. She will grow to be the future Queen of the Falesti. Besides, Lorimar gave me heartburn.’
Havoc laughed, ‘my mother said that about me.’
Bronwyn gripped Havoc’s arm and smiled at him, the excitement burning in her eyes.
‘I will give you a guided tour of the Cybeleion.’
‘What exactly is the Cybeleion?’
She looked at him stunned, ‘has Lord Ness not told you about the quest for the Gredligg Orrinn?’
‘Yes he has.’
‘Then this is your transport, the Cybeleion is the largest Sky Ship ever created.’
The Cybeleion truly was a marvel of Falesti engineering. Three times the size of any Sky Ship Havoc had ever seen. Shaped like a teardrop with its larger aft-end quarterdeck housing the crew quarters and the ships battery of twenty-eight cannon strategically placed so that it could fire front, side and rear simultaneously.
Another, smaller, castle at the foredeck was for the officer quarters and the bridge. As the prince walked on the main deck, he was surprised at how large it actually was. The quarterdeck and foredeck had their own floor space at different levels. There were three Orrinn Towers, one each bow and aft and another dead centre of the main deck, all set inside tall cast iron cylinders decorated in Skrol. However, the surprising thing was the ships structure; Bronwyn explained to Havoc that the entire ship was constructed from one tree, called a Choylorran, a relative of the apple trees in the palace orchard, only larger, much larger. The Falesti had manipulated it to grow and fuse together over a standard wooden frame. This was so skilfully done that the prince could not see where the branches of the tree had merged. There were no seams or joints in evidence, and it was as if the whole ship had been forged from a single block of wood instead of metal sheets.
The other amazing thing was the inch thick coating of hard resin that covered the entire ships body. Bronwyn explained that the tree excreted it daily along its smooth bark, giving the ship added protection in battle and from the elements; this gave the ship a deep dark red colour.
‘The ship can take two hundred in crew and about a dozen horses.’ said the queen.
Havoc was looking at the large branchlike masts, one at the stern and two aft. At their top, the expanding myriad of branches thinned out as it seemed to disappear through the huge green tarpaulin high above him, but now that he could see it closer, he noticed it was not sail canvas.
‘Its leaves, you have merged the leaves to make the horizontal sail!’ said Havoc stunned.
‘Yes, but more to that, we can move the sails in any direction and split them to make outriggers. There are three Wind Orrinns on deck and one each in the hull, port, and starboard to help with lift. All are linked by Skrol from the bridge-deck tower.’
‘This is truly amazing. Where did you get all of the Orrinns?’
‘Well one of the Wind Orrinns is from you, remember my wedding gift? The rest are on loan from the Countess of Haplann.’
‘Bleudwed, gave you Orrinns?’
‘You know her?’ she eyed him suspiciously
‘We are old friends. Where did she get them?’
‘From the Mines of Haplann, she even gave us the Earth Orrinn that’s in the lower hull.’
The lower hull, when they both climbed down the ladders to get to it, was a long open corridor with storage rooms each side. A knee-high trough of earth, three feet wide, ran right along the floor of the ship’s hull from stern to aft. In this tray were the Choylorran trees roots feeding off the nutrients in the soil. The myriad of roots, some huge, most thin and white, seemed to just grow out of the walls of the hull and spread along its base.
‘We give the earth some diluted nutritious liquid called Choy, which rejuvenates the soil every few days,’ explained Bronwyn, ‘in return the tree grows large apples which are very tasty. The only problem is that they grow in the thin branches that strengthens the main sails and the falling apples can knock someone out on the deck if they are no
t paying attention,’ shrugged the queen.
The Earth Orrinn sat at the centre of the trough in a curved stone cup. It was made of a brown and white onyx; it was round, and about the size of a man’s head. A gold medallion with a chain hung around its body. The medallion had one Skrol symbol on it and Havoc knew it said “Cybele”.
‘What is Cybele?’ he asked Bronwyn.
‘It’s the Falesti name for the Earth Mother; I did not know you could read Skrol so well?’
‘Just a little,’ he lied.
‘We named the ship after her, the Earth Orrinn holds everything together, and we would not be able to make the Cybeleion without it.’
Bleudwed, he thought to himself, was full of surprises.
As the evening wore on, the queen, Lord Soneros and Havoc ate a light meal outside the cookhouse tent erected for the workers. Bronwyn had to leave for Balael House in a short time and invited them both back to stay, but Havoc, put off by Barnum fake charm towards him kindly refused, even though he wanted to see Lorimar again.
The queen gave him a kiss on the cheek as she left. Tears filled her eyes as she hugged him.
‘Will you stay long?’ Bronwyn asked him.
‘No, I will leave in the morning, I have things to do.’
‘Then please be careful.’
‘You will tell him, won’t you?’ he looked at her beseechingly, ‘tell Lorimar who his father is when he is old enough to understand.’
She smiled at him and cupped his face with one hand, ‘yes, of course I will, I promise.’
Unknown to the prince, it was a promise she would never be able to keep.
Chapter 6
Into the Lion’s Den
Soneros Ri accompanied Havoc as he rode east, though the prince was not in a very talkative mood, so the Ri left him alone to his thoughts.
Havoc knew why he was angry at the world; most of the emotional turmoil he felt was his own fault. As he sat astride Dirkem, lazily trotting through the Eternal Forest, he held one of the black Nithi Daggers in his hands slowly turning it repeatedly through his fingers, but not seeing it for what it was, but for what it represented.
He was in love with two women who bore him sons, yet could not be with them, fate was a cruel mistress. He could not be with Eleana because she was low born, nor could he marry Bronwyn for the laws of her people forbid unions with outsiders. He wondered why he was having these thoughts after all of this time when he knew he was too late to do anything about it. Then the answer came to him as he remembered the face of his father’s teary eyes looked up at him before he left the Rouge. He was the kings only heir (Magnus being illegitimate had no rights to the throne) and Havoc had no legitimate sons of his own. Should he fail at the Ancarryn, would Havoc Valient be De Proteous in his stead? If the secret of his true father came out, then would he be heir?
‘So you intend to go through with the Ancarryn?’ said Lord Soneros bringing him out of his thoughts. The prince looked across at his old master and saw him staring at the dagger, so he put it back into his boot sheath.
‘I am fulfilling a promise and a prophecy,’ he answered.
‘I see. Do you intend to go as the Blacksword?’
‘Yes I do,’ nodded Havoc.
‘Mmmm….Do you have the Horn of Relin?’
‘It’s in my backpack.’ Havoc had messaged Chirn to send the battle horn by fastest horseman before his departure to the winter at the Rouge. ‘Incidentally,’ he continued, ‘how quickly will Ciriana appear when she hears the horn?’
Lord Soneros shrugged, ‘She is a seer, so I think pretty quickly. Dragon’s fly twice as fast as Mountain Swifts at full speed.’
‘Really? That’s good,’ nodded Havoc as he pondered the answer.
‘Bronwyn tells Lorimar stories about you at bed time when she knows Barnum is not listening,’ said the Soneros.
Havoc pulled on Dirkem’s reins to stop him. The black stallion flicked his head in complaint. The prince frowned at the Ri.
‘You are as bad as Lord Ness. I thought you Ris’ had to be able to touch someone to read their mind, now I’m not so sure,’ sighed Havoc.
‘It doesn’t take the brains of a Havant to figure out whose son Lorimar really is, he may look like his mother but he has your eyes.’
Havoc shook his head, ‘I have not had much luck with women. Eleana was right about that.’
‘Er...yes, Lord Ness told me about Havoc Valient also.’
‘Good grief! Can’t anyone keep a secret these days?’ Havoc threw his arms in the air in exasperation.
‘Sorry my Lord, but Ness Ri was once my apprentice and we don’t hide any secrets from each other. You will learn this when you take on a student. As you know, we call it the “Code”. However, your secrets are safe with us.’
The edge of the forest was only a few hundred feet away and Havoc said nothing to the Ri as he kicked Dirkem’s flanks. Lord Soneros watched the disgruntled prince pass him.
‘We all have to make decisions that we regret,’ said Lord Soneros as he looked off towards a hedgerow of willow and pines that fringed the dirt track they travelled over, he looked without seeing, suddenly sad. ‘Mine was not being forceful enough towards my stubborn wife, Yula, as I tried to convince her not to join us in the last battle against the Sept of Red.’
Havoc reined up Dirkem and turned to look at the Ri as he continued, ‘I regret many things, but I don’t regret her taking part on the final battle. In fact, I am proud of her and love her more for it. In a way, Bronwyn and Eleana are fighting their own battles. Their pride comes in the form of your sons, do not be sad for them or yourself, because now you go and make a better world for them to grow up in.’
Havoc smiled back at him, ‘how long have you been thinking up that speech?’
‘Well to be honest I’ve used it before, I just changed the names,’ shrugged the Ri.
Havoc laughed aloud and gripped Lord Soneros by the wrist and the Ri did the same, a warrior’s handshake.
‘Well you have me convinced. I actually feel better. I must go now master.’
‘Are you going via Caphun?’
‘Yes, I wish to pay the countess a visit.’
‘A word of warning, my lord, I know of your friendship with the countess, but remember Haplann is neutral and any affiliation with Countess Bleudwed will undermine all that she has achieved to make that county safe.’
Havoc nodded, ‘I understand. Once again, my luck with the opposite sex is being put to the test.’
‘May the gods go with you, my lord,’ said Soneros Ri with a sad look on his face. The prince turned Dirkem around and cantered east, leaving the Ri to watch his departure. Soneros frowned and pursed his lips as Havoc disappeared out of view. He remained there for some time with his eyes closed. The light call of birdsong in the distance barely disturbed his trance.
When he opened his eyes, his frown had disappeared, and a wide smile brightened his face.
‘Interesting,’ was all he said. He turned his horse around and trotted west.
Havoc took a direct route through the Haplann Mountains, camping in a shaded area on high cliff tops when the sun set. Early the next morning he rode over the plain and the crop fields at the mountain edges. He was lucky to stumble upon a Falesti trader’s caravan heading for the Caphun end of month market. The trade with the forest people had greatly improved since the Regent Morden implemented it and lowered the market tax rates after the truce talks. Countess Bleudwed’s influence had been a huge help as well.
Therefore, the prince journeyed with the traders until they reached the gates of the Haplann capital. The gate-guards were methodical and searched every cartload, but Havoc sneaked by using deception and the Subtle Arts. The guards did not bat an eyelid as a tall hooded traveller in tattered clothes passed them by carrying a gnarled black staff. Even the fine black stallion he walked beside, though dust covered with worn leather saddle, did not seem out of place under the ownership of such a poor looking individual.
Havoc left Dirkem under the care of a reputable stable owner, paying him handsomely to look after the black stallion. Then he ate some soup from a local vendor at the marketplace in the common square, which he found to be utterly delicious and the freshly baked bread he used to soak it all up with filled his stomach. He was surprised to see Havant Priestesses, two of them; though neither he recognised, walking and talking to the shoppers, his aunt wasted no time as she fulfilled her part of the treaty. He slept in the local tavern until the small hours of the morning, and then he climbed out of his bedroom window and, in the form of the Blacksword, jumped from roof to roof until he reached the White Castle’s outer walls. He easily scaled the high battlements and found an open window into the servant’s quarters.
Four hours of sleep was enough to refresh Bleudwed’s mind, but if she was honest with herself, she did not sleep much these days. She had a lot of work to do.
She sat in the candlelight of her private study surrounded by books on shelves that covered the walls, all the walls apart from the main door and the double glass balcony doors behind her. Wearing her cotton nightdress that came down to her knees and soft sheepskin slippers that were a size too big for her, scribbling furiously on fine expensive parchment, some of it crumpled into balls at her feet, though most of the completed paperwork strewn untidily across her desk. She sometimes wished she were as fastidious as Morden. His desk was always tidy with neat piles of parchment and a handy filing system in the desk drawers, but that would take time, time could wait.
She sipped from the mug of warm milk she brought with her from the kitchens and turned the pages of the book she was reading and made more notes.
‘Hello Mulvend,’ said a rasping whispered voice from the dark corner by the window.
The countess jumped to her feet grasping the hilt of her letter opener and staring with frightening eyes at the shadows in the corner of the room. The Blacksword extracted himself from the darkness that seemed to shift as he stepped forward. The countess saw the unnatural way the tendrils of shadow moved of their own free will as they slipped off him like a robe. Some trick of the eye made the robe seem like shadow, and then it was gone.