by P D Ceanneir
You have mourned enough, my brother, now it is time to sleep, said the Blacksword and Havoc felt his barriers finally falling to the power of his twin.
Sleep now.
Blissful darkness descended over him, he was vaguely aware of arms grasping him as he fell, then he knew no more as he gave in to his tiredness and fell into a long dreamless sleep.
When he woke, he was alone and in another tent. Morning light was streaming through the gap in the entrance. His heart pounded for a few seconds as he looked around but then he sighed with relief when he saw the Sword that Rules lying beside his armour. It was then he realised that he was naked and his wounded shoulder still pained him. For the last few days he had denied the relief of healing himself totally, he did so now and then the hunger hit him, gnawing at his stomach.
The sounds of raised voices outside drew his attention. He rose to find that someone had left a pair of clean linen trousers, boots, and a woollen shirt, which had the crest of Turnac on it. From this he realised whose tent he was sleeping in. He dressed and then took SinDex with him as he pushed back the flap to exit the tent and walked into bright sunlight. A winter breeze assailed his senses as it cut through the dry warm air of the morning, hardy prairie flowers lifted their open heads to the sun and the grassland on the battlefield below shifted like a green sea as the wind brushed over them.
A group of his friends stood together in avid discussion some distance away. Their voices mixed so the topic of their conversation was hard to catch. Lord Rett and Powyss stood in the centre of the Paladins as they and several Carras Knights argued.
‘...you Paladins do not command here,’ said one knight. ‘We must return to the capital and entomb the king’s body...’
‘We have no time for a funeral...’ cut in Powyss.
‘What of the De Proteous’s coronation?’ another knight asked.
Lord Rett nodded, ‘Sir Werin has a point, Powyss.’
‘I agree with the commander...’ said the voice of Prince Magnus, ‘father would also, I think.’
Sir Linth noticed the king walking towards the group and he said nothing to the others. He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head. Others saw him do this and automatically turned to the Baron Turnac’s tent. Silence descended, and all of them knelt as Havoc approached, even the Countess of Haplann, who was listening into the conversation, copied the others, feeling rather awkward.
Havoc felt overwhelmed at this gesture and was speechless. The full scope of his kingship hit him, he felt sick to the stomach, but tried to control his feelings. His gut did another flip when he saw someone had remained standing and it was someone he had not seen for a long time, she wore a plain purple dress and a grey woollen shawl to keep out the chill. The Queen of the Falesti still looked regal especially since she wore on her head a white-gold circlet with a silver medallion in the centre depicting the symbol of Ten Mountain, her home. Her dark hair hung down her back, tied in a green net of seed beads and her slightly smudged face grinned back at him.
She rushed through the kneeling figures quickly and jumped into his arms, in a very unqueenly gesture.
‘You’re back...you’re back!’ said Bronwyn as she covered Havoc’s face with kisses; he laughed as he hugged her.
In the group of kneeling subjects, Bleudwed and Tia both looked up at the king and queen, they then turned to each other; Tia shrugged while the countess rolled her eyes to the sky.
‘It is good to see you to, my dear, how are the children?’ asked Havoc being careful not to show favouritism to his son. The world did not know that Lorimar was his.
‘Lorimar is much like his father,’ said Bronwyn tactfully, ‘and my daughter is as demanding as her mother.’
‘So, you have your hands full then?’
Before the queen could answer him, a loud cough issued from the group of Carras Knights. Havoc looked to his kneeling soldiers and saw all eyes had turned to the cougher, Lord Andric.
‘Sire,’ said the baron, ‘I hope you are fully recovered, before you woke we were discussing the subject of your coronation.’
The crowd of men stood and erupted again into discussion, some objected to the timing and others favouring Andric‘s position. Havoc had to strain to grasp the gist of the argument. Most of the Carras Knights went with the idea of a return to Aln-Tiss forthwith, with the intention of a rushed crowning of the new king, while the Paladins argued that the threat of the Brethac Ziggurat’s Army required Havoc’s fullest attention.
Bleudwed walked out of the crowd, approached Havoc, and said ‘choose a Crown Proxy,’ so low that only Havoc and Bronwyn could possibly hear over the drone of the men’s voices.
‘What?’ Havoc asked with some confusion, having no idea what the countess was on about.
‘You can choose a Crown Proxy to hold your monarchy for twelve months,’ she explained. ‘There is a clause placed in the Royal Tables in case the next king was overseas or was detained by unexpected events before his coronation.’
‘Oh...Ah right,’ said Havoc as he understood. He held up his hands and the rabble of raised voices suddenly quietened.
‘Gentlemen,’ he looked apprehensively at Bleudwed. ‘It has been brought to my attention that the need to see through the threat of the Brethac Ziggurat is paramount to all things, including my coronation.’ He had to hold up his hand again to forestall Andric’s reply. The baron looked put out, but remained silent.
‘However, I also understand the need for tradition,’ continued the king. ‘So I require a Crown Proxy to stand in my place while I settle scores with my Uncle Kasan and his kin.’
Everyone stared at Havoc in amazement, no one spoke for some time, and then Magnus stepped forward.
‘That is an excellent idea, brother...erm…What does it mean?’ he asked with a frown.
Havoc laughed and placed an affectionate hand on Magnus’s shoulder. ‘Do not look so worried, I was not thinking of you. You and I have much work to do. No, I’m going to appoint Baron Andric to stand in my place as Proxy Monarch of the Roguns until I return before the twelve months are up.’
There were gasps and sharp inward breaths when Havoc finished explaining. Andric suddenly looked pale.
Lord Rett walked to the front of the crowd.
‘Andric as Proxy! are you ma.....’ the duke was cut short by the frantic hand gestures of Countess Bleudwed as she gritted her teeth and slashed a finger across her throat to signal for him to keep quiet. Havoc had never seen his old master look so confused before and he nearly laughed.
‘Andric’s ancestors were the hereditary holders of the Crown of Carras,’ said Havoc to everyone, ‘who better to keep the monarchy safe until I return?’ He looked sternly at the baron. ‘Unless you would rather forgo your birth right and deny your new king’s first command to you?’ The question sounded more like an order and Andric looked around him to his fellow knights for support and found none.
‘I...I...Well, sire, it will be...ah… be an honour,’ he managed to say.
‘Good. Then I, and the Rawns among us, shall fashion a crystal coffin for my father, to preserve his body. You, cousin, shall return with Captain Danyil on the Cybeleion to Aln-Tiss with the old king and leave his body to lie in state at the Palace. I will give you a letter for my mother, outlining the decisions I have made and also a request for her to send more men to me on the quest ship’s return journey.’
The baron nodded in acknowledgement.
‘Now,’ said Havoc, ‘I will indulge on you one last time, Lord Andric, and use your awning as my command tent.’
‘Of course, your majesty, what is mine is yours.’ He said this last with a little too much smugness for Havoc, but he ignored it.
‘Then make the preparations for your return home.’ The king turned to the others, ‘my battle commanders, Paladins, Queen Bronwyn and Countess Bleudwed, please join me in the tent we have much to discuss.’
‘Thank the gods you picked Andric,’ said Bleudwed as they all walked to Andric
’s tent. ‘He has been a right royal pain in the backside since you were sleeping. How are you feeling?’
‘Much better, thank you for looking after me,’ said Havoc quietly.
‘Tia helped as well, she was quite devoted. I believe she would die for you.’ The countess’s tone was not lost on Havoc, but just before he could say anything Lord Rett appeared by his side.
‘If you want my advice, sire, Andric is a poor choice for Crown Proxy. He holds too much power in parliament and has much influence with the Carras Knights,’ he said.
‘I know my cousin of old, my lord; he is a fair warrior but no great leader of men. I will ask my mother to watch him. They have always got on well, and don’t worry about the Carras Knights...’ Havoc ducked into the tent as the duke held the entrance flap open for him, ‘they will be yours to command now.’
‘They will?’ Lord Rett raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘I take it you have a plan, sire?’
‘I’ll explain latter.’
Two long folding tables were liberated from the surgeon’s tent and scrubbed clean, although they remained slightly stained with blood, and brought into the tent and everyone stood around them while Havoc spoke to Mactan, Dolment Sir Colby and Felcon, shaking their hands warmly and catching up on their battles alongside Prince Magnus and Mad-gellan. Soon, maps of the island littered the top of the table and they all jostled for a place to get a better look at them.
‘Before we go over details of tactics and strategy I need to know a few things...’ said the king then looked around him, ‘where is Gunach?’
‘Gone north with Ciriana,’ said Powyss, ‘to put the frighteners on Lord Nethroin and so aid Atyd Barnum.’
‘Good,’ said Bronwyn.
‘How does Gunach know the dragon?’ Dolment asked.
‘Seems he and Ciriana have known each other for over a hundred years,’ informed Powyss, who knew Gunach the longest. ‘He once went on some sort of dwarven life quest venturing to the fabled Crystal Cave of Jarrod the Red’s many years ago to see its treasure trove of gems so he could add them to fine armour and weapons for wealthy lords. He accidentally woke her after she had been sleeping for fifty years.’
‘Well I like a good nap just like the next man...or dragon,’ said Furran sarcastically.
‘I take it Gunach won her over with his charm,’ said Tia, who had shoved in beside Hexor and Captain Danyil and was looking between Bronwyn and Havoc suspiciously.
‘Something like that,’ continued Powyss. ‘She had suffered with toothache on and off for years. Luckily, Gunach had a set of forge tongs with him and kindly extracted the bad tooth. They have been close friends ever since.’
‘A well matched pair then,’ said Velnour, ‘he would have been too small a snack for her,’ this comment got a few laughs.
Havoc turned to the countess. ‘Now, down to business. My lady, my uncle escaped me via the Drift, using a Lobe Stone. Up until now we have been led to believe that only Ri had the ability to travel the Drift. Then all that changed when the Drakken came to the Rings of Carras on the night of the Trinket’s Ball.’ Everyone there stiffened at the memory of the dreadful monster that had taken the lives of two of their friends.
‘Now it seems that Lobe Stones not only allow one user to communicate long distance with another. They seem to be an aid in traversing the Dragon Lanes. Countess, you have studied these mysterious stones, what can you tell me about them?’
The countess cleared her throat to speak, clearly conscious of all of the men looking at her.
‘I believe it has something to do with harmonics,’ she said. ‘Sympathetic Resonance to be precise. In music, it’s the physical phenomenon whereby one vibrating object, such as a string or a bell, can induce another that is initially unmoving to vibrate also, without any physical contact. For example, strings that are related to others within a harmonic series are subject to Sympathetic Resonance. A string will cause another, such as one that is an octave higher, to vibrate by a similar frequency because the latter is an overtone of the former, meaning it’s frequency is in a harmonic ratio with that of the principal string.’
Now the men were looking at her as if she was speaking a different language.
‘I was with you up until you said, “I believe”, my lady, and then you lost me after that,’ said the Red Duke.
‘I think what the countess is saying,’ said Havoc, ‘is that Lobe Stones are linked by sound.’
‘Correct, your highness, but only connected through the harmonics that run through the earth. You see, the Dragon Lanes are filaments of high-energy particles that move so fast they set up frequencies that the Lobe Stones can pick up. Why? I don’t know. This is how communication at long distance is possible.’ The countess was becoming animated as she spoke, flapping her hands expressively as she got her point over with body language. By the looks on her audience’s faces, her point was falling short.
‘What about Drift Travel?’ asked Havoc, who seemed to be the only one following the conversation.
The countess nodded as if expecting him to ask that question. ‘My theory, and it is only a theory, is that Lobe Stones give the user the same unique unity that the Ri share when they use the Drift. Ri can use all four elements in harmony, thereby easily merging with the Dragon Lanes, though I don’t advise anyone other than a Rawn Master or higher to use a Lobe Stone when travelling the Drift.’
‘Could anyone with a Lobe Stone travel long distances?’ Havoc asked.
‘No, sound needs little energy to travel, but matter transference requires plenty. A Lobe Stone is too small to hold enough energy to take anyone a long distance.’
‘So what would your best guess be as to where my uncle ended up?’
‘He would only be able to travel to the nearest exit point or stone rings, I would think.’
‘Palace Plaza,’ said Powyss, ‘he’s in Sonora.’
‘Excellent! I feared he would end up at the Rings of Dulan,’ said Havoc. ‘This means he will not be meeting up with his retreating army. So I can keep my plans as they are.’
‘What plans are those, sire?’ asked Lord Rett.
‘My strategy is simple, your grace. We are going after Prince Creed.’
Chapter Twenty five
Castle Cromme
‘N
ot everyone in the Order shares your scepticism, Kasan,’ said Cinnibar, as he placed the glass wine goblet back down on the dining table. King Kasan was pacing at the other end of the fifty-foot long maple table with his hands clasped behind him. He frowned at his aunt’s remark and rounded on her.
‘He promised me victory and yet none was forthcoming!’ he shouted.
Cinnibar sighed. ‘There may be many defeats before the end, but it is the last victory that is the most important. What Lord Sernac sees and tells you are two different things. Has he ever let the Order down?’
Kasan scoffed, ‘Telmar!’
‘The Order survived Telmar and it will survive Havoc. Have a little faith!’
Kasan stomped over to her side of the table and placed his knuckles on the surface as he looked down at her. He almost sneered at the Sonoran queen’s aged face and greying hair. Once she had been beautiful; if Kasan were not aware of the destructive effects that Pyromantic Energy had on her body then he would assume she had the Rawn Phage.
‘If my nephew is here, then we can assume that the Gredligg Orrinn is in his possession. We must strike now and take it. Releasing the Earth Daemon within it is the whole reason we joined the Brethac Ziggurat in the first place.’
‘That is being taken care of, nephew; your job is in drawing the enemy into defeat via military might. Now, think, what would you do if you were in Havoc’s boots?’
Kasan frowned, ‘I would march on my enemy’s home and destroy the Brethac Ziggurat at its heart.’
‘So, Havoc will march on Dulan-Tiss?’
‘Yes, it’s what I would do.’
‘He would have to move overland,’ mused the queen, ‘w
hich route?’
Kasan pursed his lips. ‘The Dulan Plain is too open for him. He prefers to use the terrain to his advantage, and with a smaller host he will not risk it. My forces in that area will block his movements.’ Kasan hoped he was right about that. After the battle near Aquen, his men had moved out of the Haplann Hills and marched north over the plain towards Farness where he hoped to meet them. He had already recalled Nethroin to Sonora.
‘So, he will take the Old Drove Road to Fort Tressel, yes?’ urged Cinnibar.
Kasan shrugged. ‘It’s his best option, but Creed will meet his host if he dares go that way through the hills near the Wyani homelands.’
‘Then you must inform your son of Havoc’s possible intent.’
‘I already have.’
‘Good.’
Cinnibar jumped when Kasan slammed his fist on the table. ‘It galls me when Sernac tells you more that he tells me! Am I just a pawn in his plans?’
Cinnibar stood up quickly and placed her long fingers on the side of his cheek. The skin there rippled like disturbed water and the anger left his eyes, replaced by calm adoration.
‘You will do as you are ordered,’ she said, ‘follow your instructions.’
‘I will follow my instructions,’ Kasan mumbled.
Cinnibar smiled. So easy, everyone was so easy to manipulate, apart from true Elementals. Telmar resisted her Waternymph spell and so could Lord Sernac, but she would find a way to control them, eventually.
She took her hand away and Kasan blinked in confusion.
‘What…what were we talking about?’
‘You were going to meet your soldiers at Farness,’ explained Cinnibar, ‘and take them to Dulan-Tiss to aid the city guards in its defence.’
‘Yes…yes, of course, that was it.’ He walked towards the door to the dining room and stopped to turn back towards the queen. ‘I take my leave of you to go and make preparations.’
She nodded and watched him go with a tight smile on her face.