The Forgotten King

by Jonathan Dunn

  “We were once as close as brothers.”

  “Yet even brothers cannot read minds and interpret dreams.”

  “I know what haunts Gylain,” the Admiral whispered faintly, like rustling leaves before the wind, “For it haunts me as well.”

  They were silent for a time, until Alfonzo spoke. “The ruins are near. We can camp there safely, as I have done many times before. When we have rested we can decide our course further.”

  “That would be best, Alfonzo,” said Blaine, “For they tell me we are to hold council and that we will part ways at its end. Better near than far, as they say.”

  An hour later they reached the camp. There were ruins of what was once a great city scattered all through the area, for a mile in each direction. A thick wall ran around the perimeter: once mighty, but now like mere dust. There was only a foot of earthly stubble where it had once risen high into the air. The buildings were reduced to a similar state. Most of them were already engulfed into the nothingness of the past. In the center of the ruins was a temple, made of white marble and a mysterious stone with a strangely patterned grain. Thousands of years before it had been tall and majestic, with a tower above that stretched into the sky. This tower had long ago crashed into the lower portion of the temple, however, and now lay scattered across the ground. The rooms of the temple had no ceiling. The walls were tumbling over. Its center, though, remained intact, as if something within had protected it from the disaster that leveled the rest of the city.

  There was a platform on the Treeway with a hole in the bottom and a rope ladder attached to the side. It was one of the exits to the ground below. The party left two soldiers guarding the platform and descended several hundred feet to the ground. Throughout the descent they remained silent, for the ruins had a heavy, solemn atmosphere. The canopy above was especially thick and blocked the light from passing into the ruins. The result was a twilight, made even darker by the fog that covered the area. Only in the center – directly above the temple – was there a break in the canopy. A single beam of sunlight fell upon it. The fog seemed to smoke as it passed through the light, writhing as if with life.

  “Do not be afraid,” Alfonzo said as they came to the temple, answering his own thoughts as much as those of the others. “It is safe.” With that, he led them into the temple.

  They had to pass through several smaller rooms before they reached the larger, central chamber. A thick wooden door still stood between it and the outside world. The central chamber was different from the outer ones: it had not been deteriorated by nature. The walls and ceilings still stood strong; the floor was intact, though the carpeting was mostly gone; and the furnishings remained, albeit a bit dusty. A long, narrow table stood in the center of the room and some bookshelves lined the walls. A door to the left of the entrance remained in place, but led to nothing more than a pile of ruble. A statue of a white eagle covered the wall opposite the door. It was made of diamond and grasped an altar in its claws, an altar to the god of the temple.

  When the party was inside, Alfonzo spoke. “These ruins are safe, though they do not feel so. We will set two guards outside the door to this chamber. The guards above will whistle if anyone approaches on the ground. As for me, I am weary enough that any bed – no matter how hard – is a welcome one. We will gather in the evening for a council. Until then, rest well.”

  Then, saying nothing more, Alfonzo sat on the table in the center of the room. He curled his body into a ball. He was asleep before he could feel the tender touch of Celestine as she laid down beside him.

  Chapter 53

  The evening passed, as did the night, and it was not until the next morning that the party woke from their slumber. Alfonzo was the first to wake – as he always was – but he did not rise, instead enjoying the warmth of his wife, whose caresses he had been so long without. Celestine woke soon after him, her face radiant in the morning light which somehow found its way into the room. They were silent for a moment, unable to convert their thoughts to language.

  At length, Alfonzo whispered, “Have you slept well?”

  “As well as I could,” she answered, “Yet I dreamed of nothing but you, and the fate to which you are predestined.”

  “Do not fear, for either of us. What pains can death bring that we have not already felt?”

  “None, perhaps. But who can tell?”

  He laughed silently and smiled in his simple fashion. Though he was not naive – he had seen too much of the beasts of the earth – he often seemed as if he was, as if he did not understand.

  “No one can know anything without a doubt, so we must have faith in every matter, in one thing or another. Did I know you continued to love me while I was exiled to the forest? Did I know you were faithful while you were imprisoned by Gylain? No, yet I had faith; and it has been shown true. Therefore, I must also have faith for the future – faith that God will arrange our paths. For if not God, than in whom do we put our faith?”

  “Am I not too old for faith?” she asked, a muted sigh covering her features. “I am old now, but when was my youth? I have had faith, but for what result? Perhaps fate is but an illusion.”

  “Am I an illusion, Celestine?”

  “No: you are love, my love. But I am tempted to feel bitter, for throughout these years I have been strong: for you rather than for myself. Now that you are here I am allowed weakness. I am allowed to put my fate into the hands of a being I can see and feel. So let me indulge in it. After so much faith, it is a pleasure to wallow in doubt. It is refreshing to say, ‘this cannot be.’ After so much strength I desire only weakness.”

  “And what of me?” he answered. “For I, too, have been strong. Yet I am not allowed the pleasures of weakness. The burden still weighs upon my shoulders and upon my conscience. I must remain strong, for there is no one for me to relinquish myself to. Would you desert me now? Would you abandon our dreams for the pleasures of failure?”

  “Are you not a man and I a woman? Are you not the general and I the soldier? Strength is the curse of authority, but weakness is the poor man’s gift. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will inherit the kingdom of God.” Celestine fell silent for a moment, but Alfonzo waited for her to continue, which she did. “I am a woman – a help mate and a being created to weakness. Yet in my youth, I thought that was my curse, and I hated it. I rebelled against it. But now I know that weakness is victory. Weakness is yielding to fate, and fate will have its way regardless of what I do.” She paused. “Yet I am yours, and I will be as you would have me be. I will be strong.”

  They rose from the table on which they had slept and began to wake the others.

  “We must hold council,” they said, “The toils of the future will overshadow those of the past.”

  Within fifteen minutes the party was collected around the long table that ran down the center of the room. The room itself was dim, for the only light seemed to ooze through the stone walls and cast a fresh, greenish light about the room, without emanating from any certain source. The Admiral took one side of the table, with Meredith and Clifford at either hand; while on the other end Alfonzo sat with his wife on his right and Blaine on his left. Between the two ends sat Lorenzo, with Ivona at his side, facing the statue that graced the far wall. To their right sat the Fardys, and across from them sat Willard and Horatio. Next to Blaine sat his brother, Barnes, across from Lorenzo, and between him and Willard were Osbert and the venerable Vahan Lee.

  Monsieur Lee was the first to speak, but his words seemed to fall out of him involuntarily, and even as he spoke his face held a grimace, as if he embarrassed himself. “Never was there a truer Atiltian than myself,” he began rather loudly, for his voice echoed in the silence. “So I do not fear that I can speak freely without being thought a spy, or a representative of any interests other than those of this fair island.”

  “You need not begin every speech with a disclaimer, friend,” Alfonzo interrupted, “For it would do nothing to lessen our anger if you were speak
offensively. Especially when you are already known to be an agent of the French monarch. This council is the place for you to give your master’s terms, so do not be overcome with silence.”

  Vahan’sface caught fire as Alfonzo spoke and he became intensely interested with the area around his feet. The others were silent for a moment. It was the blond Fardy who was the first to speak. “Patience is refuted,” he said, “For I judged you wrongly, and may I be slapped.”

  “With pleasure,” his brown brother answered, and he raised his hand in preparation of doing so.

  “Why am I so patient?” The blond Fardy raised his hands in exasperation. “I spoke with poetic license, and in that I cannot be condemned.”

  “Poetic license?” the brown brother shook his head in shame. “What patience, indeed, if we have allowed Gylain to control poetry with a license. What tyranny are we to expect next? Regulations on the purchase of spirits and liquor?”

  “There are none as patient as my brothers,” the black Fardy said, “But perhaps you have become overly patient with ignorance?”

  “It is a quality I carefully cultivate,” the brown Fardy smiled, “Lest your merits be considered less than my own.”

  The Admiral stood and silenced the three with a wave of his hand. “I am becoming impatient of your patience, my friends. But what were you saying? I have never heard such a ramble, except from the mouth of old Clifford himself.”

  “Indeed, that was a superlative ramble,” Clifford bowed his head in respect, “A ramblest , as I say. You know, when I myself was but a mere lad of forty-seven—”

  “Enough, there,” the Admiral cried, “Every moment that is spent in foolishness is a moment that is bought with the blood of our countrymen. We have news as well, Alfonzo. Gylain seeks the Holy Graal, and sends Nicholas Montague to retrieve it.”

  “Indeed?” Alfonzo returned. “Then perhaps the advantage is ours once more.” He turned to Vahan. “We will have to send a group of rangers to stop him, but we do not have enough to spare as large a force as he has. Would your king send soldiers to aid them against Montague, Vahan?”

  “A brilliant idea, Alfonzo,” cried Vahan Lee, with an uncharacteristic strength of purpose when a return to France was mentioned. “I will have them for you; I will leave at once,” and he jumped up from his seat as if to set off that very moment.

  “Wait, dear friend,” laughed Alfonzo, “There are others who must go with you and we have yet to decide who they will be.”

  “Yes, of course,” and Vahan sat down slowly, the color remaining on his cheeks.

  There was a brief silence, but Ivona took the chance to speak. “I will go with those who seek the Graal,” she said. “I will go to find the blood of my savior.” Her emerald eyes shone oddly in the dim room, and as she looked around the table there were none to meet her gaze. She was terrible to the eye, yet not from power, or evil, or madness. It was her beauty that made her great and her spirit that made her strong. The only one who could stand the siege of her eyes was Horatio. As she looked at him, her lips curled into a simple smile and she laughed with her characteristic, regulated mirth.

  Celestine joined Ivona in her laugh – though silently to herself – and turned to face Alfonzo. “I have found my youth,” she whispered, “And my faith is returned.”

  Alfonzo nodded and said to the council, “You will go, Ivona, for your purity will aid in the quest. William tells me it is also for your father that the graal is sought, and that fate only provided the directions. Let it be you who finds his cure, lest failure leave you broken. Who will go with her?” He looked to Willard.

  “The king cannot leave his country,” Willard said after a short silence.

  “But this is not your country,” William gruffly returned, “It is Gylain’s. And that is why you must go: he will be searching for you with his restless passion. Your presence will only endanger those you are with. And you forget that there are none among us who have defeated nature as you have done. I would have expected less from the son of your father, but you are strong; and it is strength that rules nations. Nicholas Montague strives for the graal as well as us, perhaps, but the forests of the Cervennes are the greater danger. They are as ancient and troublesome as the deepest forests of Atilta, and as you near the temple you enter the realm of the Titans. They have destroyed greater islands than Atilta, in the past.”

  “Very well,” Willard answered, “I will go with Horatio and Ivona. The rest of our party must be raised in France.”

  “Have no fears of that,” Vahan said, “For there are many interesting people in Bordeaux.”

  “We will see.” He glanced at Ivona for a moment, then continued, “What of the rest of you?”

  “I will pick up the work of Lord Milada, as best I can,” Alfonzo said. “From that I expect I will have little rest, for the nobles are afraid of Gylain. Milada has done what can be done with them. I fear our only hope is to forget them and appeal directly to the citizenry. Either way, an army and the defenses must be raised to protect the western coast. Gylain will not be long in attacking.”

  “As for me,” the Admiral said, “There is work to be done with the navy. We sent the harbor fleet into a retreat, but Gylain’s navy will soon return from abroad, in company with that of Hibernia. We must drill our sailors and weaken his navy. How, I do not yet know.”

  “Leave the weakening to the Fardy brothers,” said the brown Fardy.

  “Lend us but a little patience,” the blond brother added, “And we will wrest the water fortresses from him, by force or by deception.”

  “Deception?” Clifford asked, “Then you will need my assistance.”

  With that the council came to an end. No time was wasted in farewells. The first to leave the enclave were Willard, Horatio, Ivona, Vahan Lee, and Meredith, taking the Treeway south once more, to the rebel harbor. The first four disembarked for France before noon had passed and the last remained to repair the rebel fleet and carry out the changes the Admiral ordered. The Admiral, however, with Barnes at his side, took the northeastern road to the rebel city, to train and recruit for the navy. The Fardy brothers and Clifford traveled with him for a time, but took the road to Eden in the end.

  Chapter 54

  The sea rolled softly in the breaking dawn, the sun’s muffled rays soaking into the swell. The cloud covering was light, and the sky was clear but for a few puffs of white to contrast the soft pinks and oranges of the sunrise. The only sounds were from the creaking timbers of a small cutter with two masts: each with three, loosely drawn sails, in addition to a giant jib that spread from the bowsprit to the quarterdeck.

  There were two men on deck and one on the mizzenmast keeping watch. The first man was average in height, though with a strong frame and noble bearing. His nose was straight and long, his hair thick and black, his eyes a mysterious gray. His companion was lesser in stature and greater in belly, with a chin that had long ago lost its form; his head was as bald as his face. They were enjoying the birth of the new day without speaking, but as it arrived the taller man spoke.

  “What has happened in your absence, Vahan?” Willard asked, “For the politics of France holds the fate of Atilta.” He was silent for a moment, then went on as if no time had passed. “Look at how quickly things change – for where I was an animal, I am now a king. I can only question how different the two are. And look, I think of you as an old, trusted friend, though I have only known you a few days.”

  “Yes, and I think you the same,” Vahan’s eyes sprung a subtle leak. “After our adventures in the forest I have become quite fond of you. I only wish we did not find ourselves in this horrible mess.”

  “If we were not in it, perhaps we would not have found ourselves at all. But listen: what is this foreboding that has overtaken you? Since our escape from Castle Plantagenet you have been taciturn and keep to yourself, even at the council; though I realize there were many ears there, and half as many mouths.”

  Vahan sighed. “I have been surmising ev
il for my countrymen. These are the times of traitors and my sovereign is easily swayed by the whispers of his counselors and would-be allies.”

  “You fear the Chevalier de Casanova, then?”

  Vahan Lee almost fell backwards in his surprise at the hearing the name which had long held scepter over his thoughts. “How do you know of him?”

  “De Garcia whispered his name in my ear before setting off our catapult. ‘Beware de Casanova,’ he said, ‘For he lurks in the shadows.’ Since then I listened, and it chills the marrow in my bones to think such men find favor in the eyes of fate.”

  “Yet fate is a faithless mistress. He came to France from his master in Hibernia as I left, but there was no time for me to personally see to him. Let us pray the king has not given him his ear.” Vahan shivered. He was a different man in France than in Atilta. In the one place he was the second man of the kingdom and respected by all; in the other he was a hapless noble without authority. And authority makes a man of him who wields it.

  “Not ear enough, at least, to betray your journey to Atilta, for Gylain did not know you other than as Alfonzo’s companion. If he had it would have gone worse with us. Yet the King of Hibernia – the Emperor of the Three Kingdoms – is more to be feared than his servant de Casanova, in political realms.”

  “Have no fear for politics, for I am now returning to France. Politics is my slave and I will have him arrested the moment he displays himself. Then I will send a battalion against Montague, to aid you in the quest for the Holy Graal.” A shade passed over Vahan’s face. He continued in a whisper. “I fear it is unwise to disturb such sacred places, Willard. There is much power in the hidden places, and much evil to be unleashed. It is for the good of Atilta, perhaps, but it can only harm my native France.”

  “I am as anxious as you, but we will have to see.”

  “What of Ivona: do you also fear for her?”

  “She is a woman, Vahan. If I did fear, it would be wasted, for where the shoulder cannot push the water can still flow. She would need only to smile and the devil himself would serve her.”