Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3)

by Brad Clark

  Conner looked back in time to see two of the centurions suddenly fall into the deep water, kicking and screaming as the waves of the gulf crashed over their heads. He pulled himself up onto the deck to see Glaerion leaning against the main mast, his chest heaving.

  Captain Janari gave Conner a nod of greeting and then he went about his duties to prepare the ship for open water. Conner made sure to stand out of the way as the elven sailors ran about the deck doing their jobs.

  Glaerion glanced up at Conner, and with chest still heaving, he said, “It has been quite a while since I used so much magic. But it is good to get the practice in. I fear that there will be more to be used in the coming days. War will soon be upon your kingdom. I only hope that we can get there before the empire hits it with all its might.”

  ***

  Farrus watched from the beach as two of his centurions drowned. He did not know what he could have done for them, as they were so far out into the gulf. He had stopped on the beach, but his fearless soldiers had followed the other three on the waves. Clearly, they had thought that if the murderers could run atop the waves, they could too. Of course, their emotional state had contributed towards their actions. If they had not been so blinded by their anger, they might have taken a moment to think about what had just happened.

  But as much as the sight of his centurions drowning shocked him, the sight of the ship made him curious. It was unlike any ship that he had ever seen. It was long, thin, and rode much lower in the water than the typical Taran ship. There was one main mast and one forward. The sails on the ship were triangular and not square. He studied the ship and imprinted it into his mind. The murderers of seventeen of his men were onboard that ship, probably headed back to their homeland. But if he ever saw that ship again, he would know that they were the enemy and he would draw his sword first and ask questions later.

  In the days that would come, he would think more about the fact that the three murderers had run atop the water. He would question his own sanity and others would dismiss his story as just a crazy old soldier trying to explain how he let three murderers escape. But for now, he could only watch in anger as they escaped him once again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Peter wandered through the market square, casually looking at each vendor’s goods. Unlike the middle of summer, when the market was packed with people looking to both buy and sell, the streets were nearly empty. There weren’t many merchants who maintained their stores or their market stands throughout the winter, but there was still a need to sell freshly baked breads or dry goods. The few that remained spent only a few hours a day out in the cold, but it was enough for them to make a decent day’s wage.

  He tried his best to look busy or interested, but it took effort. He moved slowly from shop to shop, and stopped at each market stand to look over what was on display. The trinkets sold to visitors and foreigners during the warm months were all packed away to be brought out when spring came. What was left were simple dry goods, or the last fruits of the fall harvest. He was asked several times what he was looking for, but he just responded with a smile and shrug of the shoulders. Then he moved on to the next stand, simply trying to pass the time of day.

  Life in South Karmon had become boring. Although the city itself was large, it was not the growing and thriving city that Tara City was. There were plenty of taverns and inns that sold fine ales and beers, but they weren’t places of debauchery where he could drink to excess and make a fool of himself. South Karmon and the people of Karmon were just too prudish for him. There were no ladies of the night that took coin to share a bed, nor was there any place to find the smoke weed that could ease the mind and send one off into dreamland. It wasn’t that there wasn’t enough ale to go around to make one drunk; his old friend Iffus had shown him that there was plenty to be had. But he was looking for more fun than just a strong ale. Maybe the city would liven up come springtime, but then again, he hoped to be back in Taran by then.

  The smell of freshly baked bread drew Peter’s attention and he wandered over to a baker who had a small stand with several baskets full of steaming bread. He tossed a half coin onto the baker’s money plate and took a small loaf of bread from a basket. Finding a warm spot in the sun, he sat down and tore a chuck from the loaf and stuffed it in his mouth.

  Chewing the warm bread, Peter looked up as a carriage came rumbling down the street led by a team of two horses. A single driver sat atop, exposed to the cold wind while the passengers were enclosed in relative comfort. The driver kept his eyes forward as he drove the carriage towards the castle, unconcerned about anyone that might get in his way. Peter knew there would be many more coming in the next few hours, as lords from all around the remote kingdom came calling for the queen’s masquerade ball.

  With his attention on the carriage, he did not notice the two city guardsmen approach.

  “Move along!” one of them commanded.

  Peter heard the words, but he did not react to them at first, as his eyes were still watching the carriage race away towards the castle. When the guard repeated himself, Peters looked up to see the two city guardsmen standing over him. They were both dressed in leather armor that covered thick wool tunics. Short swords were sheathed at their hip.

  “What?” Peter asked, unsure that he had heard them correctly.

  “No beggars here,” one of them said. “Lords and ladies from across the realm will be arriving today, and there will be none of your likes around to be seen by them.”

  Peter looked from one to the other, still not quite understanding what they were asking of him. “What?” he repeated.

  One of the guardsman put his hand on his short sword, as if he were about to draw it. “No beggars in the street! Now either get moving or we’ll have to move you!”

  “I’m no beggar,” Peter replied, pulling another chuck of bread from the loaf and stuffing it into his mouth.

  Having their orders ignored, the city guardsmen both drew their weapons.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Peter said, unfazed, but surprised at the reaction. Since he had arrived in the city, all the interaction he had with the city guard had been cordial and friendly. It seemed out of character for them to be so rude and demanding.

  “Move, or we’ll move you ourselves!”

  “I’m no beggar,” Peter said again with a calm voice, trying to make sure that the situation didn’t escalate. “I paid for this bread with my own coin."

  “We seen ya wondering about the market for an hour, just looking and waiting for a handout. We don’t need your likes around here today, so I’ll say it one last time before I haul you out of the city and leave you to fend for yourself in the cold forest! Move along!”

  Peter stood, towering over both city guards by at least a full head. It had been some years since he had been a soldier, but his instincts and skill hadn’t been dulled all that much. Even though they were armed with sharp blades, Peter knew he could take them both. They might be saying tough words, but he could see a hint of fear and doubt in their eyes. But he wasn’t here to get into a fight, much less draw attention to himself. It angered him that they thought he was a street beggar, but he couldn’t let his pride get in the way of peace. He and Berrien still had work to do and getting into a fight with the city guard would only make that worse.

  Keeping his gaze locked on the guardsmen, he slowly stepped past them and started walking across the market square. As he walked, he noticed that the two guardsmen who accosted him were not alone. It was as if there had been a small invasion into the market square. Suddenly there were more city guard than anyone else. He was also not the only one to be kicked out. Anyone who seemed to remotely look like a beggar or a vagabond was being removed. Emperor Hargon had done the same thing in Tara City when foreign dignitaries arrived. But the Taran centurions had been less gentle and forgiving. At least the Karmon city guard asked first.

  But it made him no less angry. He didn’t like being treated like a beggar, but his age and
wisdom kept him from showing that anger. If he had been a young man, still hot-blooded and easily angered, things would have quickly escalated to a fight and blood would have been drawn. He let out a chuckle as he realized maturity had come with age.

  A second carriage sped by, nearly running him over. He watched it rush away and caught sight of the castle’s tall towers. He wondered if Berrien was going to be able to get invited to the ball. Surely he would be included as well, as he was the Taran dignitary’s assistant. With the idea of dancing with a young Karmon maiden fresh in his mind, he continued walking out of the market square.

  A small group of pedestrians walking down the street caught his attention. They were coming from the main gate which made him look closer to see if they were simple travelers or were going to be guests for the big event. He had no real reason to give them a long look, other than instincts and habit.

  It seemed as if they were together, but one in particular caught his attention. He was walking several paces behind the others as if he were just slower than the rest. A casual observer would have not paid him any attention, but Peter was not a casual observer. There was something just different enough about this man that made Peter slow and look more closely. He did his best not to stare, but he had to keep looking in that direction to study the man’s appearance and try and figure out why he stuck out. Like most travelers, he was wearing a cloak with a hood pulled over the top of his head. His face wasn’t fully hidden, as that would have brought more attention to himself. But Peter still couldn’t get a good look at the man’s face. He would have to get closer.

  He changed his pace and direction slightly so that he would intercept the group. But the moment he did so, the man broke away from the small group and walked down a side street, away from him. With curiosity fully piqued, Peter followed.

  The side street led away from the market square and straight towards the slummier part of the city. Peter doubted this man intended go in that direction; he likely just turned down the first side street he came across. Peter stayed far enough back to keep an eye on the man without getting too close to be noticed. When the man came to another cross street he turned right, disappearing from view behind a small house. Peter, not wanting to lose him, starting jogging forward until he reached the cross street.

  As soon as he turned onto the street, his heart started pounding hard. The man was nowhere to be seen. There were many small houses and shacks along the street, any number of which could be used to hide behind. A handful of people were milling about, but none of them looked remotely like the man he was following. Heart still beating strong in his chest, he moved cautiously down the street, his eyes scanning ahead as well as the spaces between buildings.

  A voice whispered behind him, “Arata!”

  Peter spun to see the man standing just behind him, his cloak open and a long dagger in his hand. It took a moment for him to catch his breath. When he did, he recognized the face and he let out a relieved laugh. “You? Roland? What are you doing here?”

  Roland put his dagger back into his belt. “I should ask you the same. And it’s Commander Roland to you.”

  The smile stayed on Peter’s face. “I’m not a centurion, so I can call you Roland, Arata, or anything I want!”

  “It’s good to see a friendly face,” Roland said. But the friendly tone quickly turned serious. “We need to talk.”

  Peter’s demeanor changed with Roland’s tone. With a quick glance to be sure that no one was paying any attention to them, he pulled Roland down a side alley where they could talk without being overheard.

  “You followed me like you were expecting me,” Roland said as they walked into the alley. Shade from a nearby building kept the alley dark, which suited both of them just fine.

  “No, not at all,” Peter replied. “I just happened to be in the market square passing time when I saw the group that you were following. You seemed out of place, which caught my attention. That’s why I followed you.”

  Roland rubbed his cheeks. It had been some days since he had put a sharp blade to his face and the incoming beard was starting to itch. “I tried to be as casual as I could. I guess that didn’t work out.”

  “Once a soldier, always a soldier.”

  “That is true. I was supposed to meet up with some of our dignitaries. That’s not you, is it?”

  Peter burst out a short laugh. “Not at all. I’m the muscle. Berrien, he’s the brains. He’s in the castle right now putting his nose someplace where it shouldn’t be.”

  “Well, it is quite fortunate that I have found you, then. I need to see him. Take me to him.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s important. I don’t have time to tell the story twice, so we need to find this Berrien.”

  “Follow me, then.”

  Peter led Roland back to the market square and then up the wide street towards the castle. They were not alone in their trek towards the castle, so they kept their conversation to a minimum.

  The portcullis that normally blocked entrance to the castle was up as the incoming guests for the masquerade ball were starting to make their appearances. A number of well-dressed pages and fully armored city guardsmen milled about the inner courtyard as well as the open space leading up to the castle. Soon they would be busy serving the lords and ladies who would come for the ball, but right now, they were standing around waiting for something to do.

  As they approached the tall wall of the castle, Roland asked, “We are going in?”

  “Of course,” Peter replied. “That’s were Berrien is.”

  “And they just let you in?”

  Peter laughed. “Remember, we are dignitaries from a friendly nation, not soldiers. We are welcome here.”

  Roland glanced around, unsure about going into the castle, but he followed Peter without question. No one challenged them or even made an attempt to greet them until they passed under the portcullis and entered the inner courtyard.

  There were three carriages parked against a far wall. Peter recognized two as those that passed him when he was in the market square. Both were fairly plain and innocuous. The third, however, was larger and finely adorned with gold trim and elegantly carved wood. The horses had already been pulled into the comfort and warmth of the stables. The drivers were attending to the carriages, cleaning off dirt and grime collected during their travel.

  A young boy approached and gave a low bow. “Milord, welcome back. Shall I escort you to your chambers?”

  “Of course,” Peter said.

  Even though they were welcome in the castle, they were still foreigners and not allowed to simply roam wherever they pleased. The queen’s old personal attendant, Arpwin, had insisted that they be escorted while on the castle grounds. Berrien had made a big stink about it and Lord Martin tried to argue for them, but in the end Arpwin got his way and Lord Martin caved. At least they weren’t being escorted by armed soldiers.

  With the curiosity of a child, Roland looked around the inner courtyard while they followed the young boy into the castle.

  ***

  Arpwin turned down the edge of the thick blanket that covered the bed. Typically, he would not be the one to prepare a guest’s chambers, but this was a special guest and he took it upon himself to make sure that everything is right.

  “Your journey was uneventful?” Arpwin asked.

  King Toknon walked over to a far window and opened it to let in fresh air. The fire in the room’s fireplace was blazing hot, making it a bit too warm for his tastes.

  “Yes it was. A snow storm was bearing down upon Thellia as I left, so it was good to leave before it hit the mountains and made the valley impassible.”

  “That was quite fortunate.”

  Toknon looked down upon the inner courtyard of the castle. “Winter storms come across the steppes of the eastern provinces of the empire from the northwest and funnel right down the river between the White Mountains to the south and the Great Mountains to the north. We can get several feet of snow from t
hese storms.”

  Arpwin raised an eyebrow, wondering if King Toknon was truly telling the truth. “Several feet? In a single storm?”

  “Believe me, it’s true. But we have been dealing with snowy winters since our ancestors laid their roots down along the Jorgan River. It is really not an issue for us. We have come to enjoy our snow and not lament its arrival.”

  “We get snow here, of course. Maybe a foot or so over the course of an entire winter, but certainly never all at once. I cannot imagine how we would handle that much snow at once.”

  Toknon let out a rare laugh. “I think you would be surprised at how resilient your people would be.”

  Arpwin smiled back. “Of course, you are right.”

  He stepped over to the fire and gave it a quick poke with a long steel poker. Sparks showered up and the fire blazed even higher.

  “It is plenty warm enough in here, but thank you for your hospitality,” Toknon said.

  “Oh, it is my pleasure. I only wish that a more suitable chamber was available for your use. We don’t have many kings that make a sudden appearance at our doorstep.”

  “The room is fine. Small and quaint suits my mood perfectly. My chambers at home are a bit big for me these days.”

  Arpwin sensed the change in Toknon’s voice. It suddenly became more somber as the young king clearly was referring to the recent death of his father, King Lorraine. “My sympathies for your loss. I had heard many good things about King Lorraine. That late King Thorndale thought highly of him.”

  “Yes, well, thank you. We had our differences, but he was a good man. Always tried to put his kingdom first.”

  An awkward silence fell as Arpwin struggled to find words to say. Thell was their former enemy and the person chiefly responsible for that was standing right in front of him. He knew that their icy relationship had thawed and they could now be considered friendly, but there was still some uncomfortableness between them.