The Blind King

by Lana Axe

  “My Brother King,” she said, her hand against her heart. “My husband has been slain in battle, and I am sent away.”

  “You will always have a home here,” he replied, reaching out to comfort her.

  “Where is Rayne?” Ryshel asked, hoping the young child had not come to harm. She peered into the open carriage but saw only Shala inside, tending to the luggage.

  No longer able to contain it, Aubriana began to weep. “They have taken him from me,” she said through her tears. “They accused me of sending secret messages and would not allow me to see him. Once word arrived that my husband was killed, the king sent me away.”

  Ryshel rushed to her side, holding her tightly as she wept. There were few words that could be of comfort to a mother who had been separated from her child. Ryshel could hardly imagine such pain.

  “I know not if I shall ever see him again,” Aubriana sobbed.

  Ryshel gently stroked the distraught mother’s golden hair. “It will be all right,” she promised. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you.”

  Leaving the king in the safety of his servants, Ryshel escorted Aubriana to the bedchamber she formerly inhabited. The princess was distraught, and her tears continued to flow.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Ryshel reassured her. “Efren is in charge of the war now. He’ll do whatever he can to end it.”

  Aubriana laid down on the bed and curled herself into a ball. “They’ll never let me see him again,” she said. “They think I’m a traitor.”

  “Why would they think that?” Ryshel asked, taking a seat on the bed.

  “They said if they found evidence of my betrayal, they would kill him.” She continued to weep into the soft blankets.

  “Aubriana,” Ryshel said, “tell me why they would accuse you of such an act.”

  “My husband, Prince Ivor, and I never got along,” she admitted. “I never told you, but he hated me. I was confined to my chambers on suspicion of treason, thanks to him.” A wave of sorrow overcame her, and she buried her face deep into a velvet pillow.

  Ryshel gently rubbed her back. “Efren will find a way. Give it time.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears. Aubriana was too distraught to believe the situation could ever improve. Her son was lost to her, and her world was in shambles. Eventually, her tears gave way to a fitful sleep.

  Turning to Shala, Ryshel said, “You should go to the court healer and ask for some medicines to help her sleep easier. The poor girl needs her rest.”

  Shala immediately dropped the items she had pulled from one of the princess’s bags and curtsied to the queen. Without a word, she hurried away in search of the medicine.

  Ryshel let Aubriana rest while she took her position at Efren’s side. A group of citizens living along the northern border had arrived requesting an audience with the new king. They bowed awkwardly before him, their common clothing standing out among the riches of the court.

  One among them stepped forward to address the king. He was a tall man with dark hair who spoke eloquently despite his low birth. “Your Majesty, our village is under threat from dwarves. They have descended the mountains and taken up residence near our border. These are not merchants as we have seen before. These are miscreants who were exiled from their own homeland.”

  “If they have been exiled, then perhaps they have nowhere else to go,” the king stated. There were far more threatening invaders to his south. A small band of dwarves to his north was hardly cause for alarm.

  The tall man looked at the floor before saying, “Majesty, we fear they mean us harm. Every man among them is armed.”

  Efren sat silently a moment, contemplating the situation. Finally, he said, “Let us hope they have come in peace. I shall dispatch an emissary to converse with them and determine their purpose. If they are not inviting conflict, I hope you will welcome them as your new neighbors. Perhaps our two peoples could work together.”

  The man bowed again, not daring to argue with the king. With the matter settled, Efren moved on to the next concern. There were several small issues that required his attention: the treasury was quickly being depleted, the master of horse was not performing his duties properly, and several other petty complaints still needed to be heard. After several hours, each matter had been presented and discussed. When business was finally concluded, Efren rose to leave, followed by Ryshel. The sun had already disappeared from the sky, and Efren was weary from the day’s work. Ryshel gently rubbed his shoulders as he sat on the edge of their bed.

  “I tire of this war,” he said.

  Ryshel looked at him sympathetically. “Perhaps this new plan of yours will succeed and bring an end to it.”

  “Even if it succeeds, the fighting will not be over. We have already lost too much land, and we will have to fight to take it back.” His voice sounded defeated, revealing his reluctance to continue the fight. “If only they would negotiate.”

  “Once you have them in a position of weakness, they may,” she replied.

  “One can only hope,” he said, settling down onto the bed. Sleep overcame him almost instantly, his overworked mind insisting on much-needed rest.

  Kissing her husband’s cheek, Ryshel settled in next to him. Sleep did not come quickly for her. In her mind, Aubriana’s plight played again and again. She could see herself in a worse position, should Na’zora succeed in taking Ra’jhou. Would they kill her and her children? What would they do to Efren? None of them would be needed; and all of them would be considered a threat. The people would be divided under Na’zoran rule if the old king and queen were still alive. All she could do was hope that Efren would find a way to defeat the invaders. Otherwise, she feared witnessing the deaths of her own children.

  Chapter 20

  The following morning, Ryshel’s father arrived. Duke Arden was tall and broad-shouldered, his face seeming younger than its sixty years. He was eager to lend assistance to the king in any way he could.

  “It is good to see you, Your Majesty,” he said as he stood before the king. “I thank you for inviting me to court.”

  “Welcome,” Efren replied. “I have named you my First Advisor. Your wisdom is appreciated here at court.”

  “I am pleased to be of service,” he replied, bowing.

  Ryshel hurried to her father and hugged him tightly. “It’s good to see you, Father,” she said.

  Arden beamed proudly, squeezing his daughter in his arms. “My daughter is a queen,” he said. In all his imaginings, he had never pictured his own child on the throne of Ra’jhou. Though the deaths of the two previous kings had saddened him, he could not contain his pride. His own grandchildren would ascend the throne someday.

  “Your Majesty,” General Willem said, interrupting the pair. “I have brought the man you requested. Perhaps we may discuss your plan now.”

  A slender man of great height stood next to the general. With a few tweaks, he would look exactly as Efren desired.

  “We will discuss it further in private,” the king said, standing. “Duke Arden, you shall accompany us.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied. He followed closely behind the king, who led the men into a small chamber next to the throne room.

  “Close the door and make sure no one is outside of it,” Efren said. “Duke Arden, describe this man to me.”

  “He is taller than most men, standing a head taller than General Willem,” Arden replied. “He is slender of build and has deep-set eyes. His skin has a heavy touch of the sun, and his eyes are blue.”

  “That should do nicely,” Efren replied.

  “This is Kal,” General Willem said. “He is a fine archer and an intelligent man. I have observed my men closely these past few days and could think of none better to serve you.”

  “I need someone to pose as a mixed breed,” the king stated. “Can you read, Kal?”

  “I can, Your Majesty,” Kal replied.

  “Good. You will have much to learn, and quickly.”

  “
I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Arden said. “You plan to disguise this man in some way? What is his mission?”

  “Yes, he will be disguised,” the king stated. “He will pose as a half-elf. With luck, he will infiltrate the Na’zoran army disguised as a potion maker. I intend to poison their mages.”

  The room fell silent as the men digested the king’s words. The plan had merit, and it could prove a great success. Infiltrating the Na’zoran army, however, would be no easy task.

  “Majesty,” the general began, “this plan seems rather difficult. How do we get him past enemy lines? How does he convince them he’s an elf?”

  “If I may speak,” Kal said, looking to the king for approval. “I once traveled to Al’marr, where ships from Ral’nassa often visit. They purchase gems there, and some of their sailors frequent the taverns. I know more of the Enlightened Elves than most men, and I have no doubt I can imitate one.”

  “Can you manage the accent?” the general asked.

  “I can,” he replied, speaking as if he were a native of Ral’nassa. “I have heard them speak plenty of times. I can explain away my ears with a story of my low birth between a tavern girl from Al’marr and a ship’s captain from Ral’nassa.”

  A broad smile came over Efren’s face. “I think you shall do nicely,” he said. “You sound as if you’ve already been preparing for the role. General Willem, I will leave the details to you and Duke Arden. Get this man prepared and find a way to slip him behind enemy lines. They won’t refuse his services, as they have great need of their potions. I have exchanged letters with Na’zora’s original suppliers, and they no longer desire to remain involved in the war.”

  Willem was stunned. How could the king have possibly cut off Na’zora’s supply of potions? Though frustrated that he had not been privy to the scheme, he chose not to ask questions. Whatever the king had done, it would only help Ra’jhou’s cause. Now, the general had a new matter to attend to—getting Kal safely in front of the Na’zoran army.

  “You are certain Na’zora will have need of this man?” Arden asked.

  “I am,” Efren replied. “The Na’zorans will readily accept his help. You have your orders.” The king exited, leaving the three men behind. His confidence was high that the plan would succeed. Cutting off Na’zora’s potion supply had been no small victory. If Kal could manage to poison the mages, the tide of war could take a dramatic turn in Ra’jhou’s favor.

  “You’re sure you’re up to this task?” Arden asked.

  “I am, my lord,” Kal replied. “Nothing would please me more than to rid Ra’jhou of its greatest enemy.”

  Willem shook his head. “Kal, you have no training in magic. These men may believe your look and accent, but they will never believe you are a potion maker.”

  “Yes, the king was quite short on details on that point,” Arden commented. “Still, we have been given a task to perform, and we shall see to it. I assume there is a library in this castle? I haven’t had much time to acquaint myself with the surroundings.”

  “There is a library on the third floor,” Willem replied, his brow furrowed.

  “We should start there,” Arden stated. “We need every bit of information we can find on Enlightened Elves and potion making.”

  The three men found their way to the library, where an elderly gentlemen sat dozing behind a desk. The room was covered in a light layer of dust, suggesting few others had visited recently.

  Arden cleared his throat, hoping to wake the librarian. “Excuse me,” he said. “We are searching for information. I need to know about magic and potions.”

  The old man stared at him groggily, his expression slightly puzzled. “Whatever for?” he asked.

  “It interests me,” Arden replied impatiently. “Where might I find it?”

  The old man rose from his seat and plodded toward a shelf at the eastern corner of the library. Sliding a tall wooden ladder along the rows, he pointed to the top of the stacks. “If I have the information you seek, it will be there.”

  Arden stared at the old man a moment, realizing that he would have to climb the ladder himself. Grabbing onto the rungs, he climbed to the top of the shelf. The librarian was correct. The top row was filled with books on the subject of Ral’nassa, the Sunswept Isles, and specific topics of arcane studies. One volume in particular caught his eye—Magical Abilities in Humans. Arden smiled and nodded. “This one might prove useful.” Grabbing the book, he tossed it down to Kal.

  “I don’t suppose there’s one titled Potion Making, is there?” He grinned at the duke and raised his eyebrows.

  Arden descended the ladder with an armload of other books. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got some reading to do.”

  Chapter 21

  Shala walked casually through the castle corridors, hoping to avoid suspicion. Act normally, she told herself. No one knows what you’ve done. Arriving at Aubriana’s chambers, she stepped inside, looking back over her shoulder only once.

  Aubriana sat on her balcony, staring off at the Wrathful Mountains. Leaning heavily upon one hand, she took no notice of her maid’s presence. Her mind focused on the scene before her as she tried in vain to drive away thoughts of her son.

  “My lady,” Shala said, her voice shaking slightly. “I have some news.”

  Aubriana turned her eyes to Shala, but her melancholy expression did not change. Whatever news the girl had brought would not be the news Aubriana longed for. The only thing she wished to hear was that her son had been sent to stay with her. Nothing else mattered.

  “You said I should keep my eyes and ears open for any information that could help you reunite with Rayne,” the girl said. “I’ve heard something that might help.”

  Now she had the princess’s attention. “What is it?” she asked eagerly. “What have you heard?”

  Shala shifted nervously and took a seat near the princess. “I overheard a conversation. The king is planning something that, well…,” she trailed off.

  “Tell me, Shala!” Aubriana pleaded. “What is it?”

  “The king wants to infiltrate the Na’zoran army. If you let Tyrol know about it, then he might consider you a friend. At the very least, he will know you weren’t spying for Ra’jhou.”

  Aubriana looked deep into Shala’s eyes, contemplating her words. “Shala, you must tell me everything you heard.”

  “King Efren, Duke Arden, the general, and another man who I do not know, met secretly to discuss poisoning the Na’zoran mages. It seems they want to send the tall man in posing as a half-elf. He is to offer his services as a potion maker.”

  Aubriana shook her head. “That won’t work. The mages get their potions from the Sunswept Isles. King Tyrol pays a fortune for it.” Her heart dropped, knowing that Tyrol would take no interest in such information.

  “King Efren seemed to think he had changed that. He didn’t go into details, but he said their original supplier would not be sending any more potions.”

  “You’re certain of it?” Aubriana asked. She wondered how Efren could have accomplished such a task. To her knowledge, Ra’jhou had no relations with the Sunswept Isles.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “So, this man will offer his services, and the mages will be glad to have it,” the princess said, thinking out loud. “They’ll accept him eagerly, and he will poison them.”

  “I believe that is the plan, my lady,” Shala replied.

  “Efren must know this servant will be killed once he’s discovered. The man must be expendable.” In her mind, she began to justify what she was about to do.

  “I didn’t hear anything like that,” Shala said. “There was no mention of how the man was to return once the deed was done.” The maid had not followed the men when their meeting was concluded. She feared being discovered and having to explain why she was listening to their conversation.

  “They didn’t mention it because he won’t return. They’ll know who is responsible for the poisoning, and th
ey’ll kill him.” Aubriana swallowed hard, wondering if this might truly endear her to the Na’zoran king. This unknown man’s blood would not be on her hands, would it? He was doomed either way. “I must compose a letter to Lady Bartin,” Aubriana said decidedly.

  “It’s the king you must inform,” Shala replied.

  “He won’t take a letter from me,” the princess stated. “He will think it’s another plea for my son, and he will throw it away.”

  “How will we get the letter there?” Shala asked.

  “Leave that to me,” Aubriana replied. “I still have friends who will help as long as I meet their price.” Hurrying to her dressing area, she stopped at a small wooden box and retrieved a golden earring. “This should be more than enough,” she said.

  Sitting at her writing desk, she took up her quill, but no words came. Was there a chance Efren’s plan could succeed? If so, Ra’jhou could likely win this war, and she might then be able to retrieve her son. No, she realized. Even without their mages, Na’zora’s army greatly outnumbers Ra’jhou’s. I must do this. With a shaking hand, she wrote:

  My dearest Lady Bartin,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have arrived in my childhood home, but I find myself missing Na’zora with every breath. I long to hold Rayne in my arms and tell him I love him. I hope he is not sad over my departure. I would have him be happy each day, even if I am not there to see it.

  I have learned of a matter that might interest King Tyrol, if you would be so kind as to relay a message. I trust that he is wise enough to allow you to speak on my behalf. King Efren is sending a man disguised as a potion maker. I know Na’zora has need of one. The man will appear to be a half-elf and will arrive soon. Do not trust him. He intends to poison the mages to eliminate them as a threat. He must be stopped. I hope the king will listen to you, as this is a serious matter.

  Sincerely,

  Princess Aubriana of Na’zora

  Aubriana shoved the letter away from her, stretching her arms across the desk. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to take deep breaths to calm her nerves. Was she doing the right thing? Would Tyrol believe her? Did this letter make her a traitor against her own family? Aubriana sighed. It was unclear which kingdom she should support. This place felt like home, but her son was destined to rule Na’zora. Would it be so bad if he ruled Ra’jhou as well? Only one man’s life would be lost, and she considered him lost anyway. Efren was sending him to his death, so what difference did it make whether it was sooner or later?