Crystal King (Riland Throne Book 1)

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Crystal King (Riland Throne Book 1) Page 25

by John Olsen


  He ran and skidded to a stop on his knees. “Sharise?”

  She swallowed and squinted at him. “Adrian? Who are these people? I think they rescued me.” Her voice was soft and slow. She pieced the words together, as if through a thick mental fog.

  “You were dead.” He gazed at her as if to absorb her through his eyes. His hands reached out but he hesitated, as if afraid to touch her, lest she break.

  “I guess it didn’t work out.” She blinked and rubbed her eyes.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, caressing her hair. Neither of them said a word until Lindy cleared her throat. “Adrian, let her breathe. She can spend all the time she wants with you after she’s got a little more strength back. She’s not going anywhere and needs this broth more than she needs you draped all over her. Now git!”

  Adrian leaned back, holding Sharise at arm’s length. “Right. If I go for a few minutes, will you stay here? Of course, you will. How stupid of me.”

  Gavin smiled at the unexpected reunion, a splash of joy among a sea of sorrows. “We didn’t know who she was. We stole the crystal used to control her and walked her out of their camp. I’ll be ready to go with you if you give me a minute, Adrian.”

  He opened the letter and recognized his father’s handwriting.

  Gavin,

  I’m sorry to have sent such ruffians to take possession of you and the cattle. The king of the Graven Kingdom is invading. There is nothing we can do to stop it, but I have a plan to lead him into our lands and destroy him. Your brother is dead. All of the other barons are dead as well, and there will be a lack of leadership throughout our kingdom. Once I kill the Graven King and take control of his army, we will be the only ones strong enough to lead Riland.

  He didn’t finish the letter. He didn’t need to. He folded it up and put it into his pocket.

  Adrian cocked his head. “Is something wrong, sir?”

  Gavin shook his head distractedly. “No, it was a message too late to make a difference. Has there been any sign of my father?”

  Adrian said, “Funny you should ask. Come with me.”

  Adrian’s few remaining men stood guard outside the tent as Gavin and Adrian approached. They held the flaps up to let Gavin in. Adrian gave Jase a quick shake of the head. “A moment of privacy first, please.”

  Jase peered in and saw a wrapped form on the ground and nodded as he took up position outside with the others.

  Gavin gestured to the wrapped body. “This is what you needed to show me? I’ve seen enough bodies today already.”

  Adrian lifted a cloth to show Gavin the face of his father, still breathing in shallow gasps with his eyes wide open. “He will be dead soon, but he can hear you.”

  Adrian stepped back as Gavin sat next to the man he loathed, yet loved.

  Gavin wept.

  They had disagreed on almost everything. His father had intimidated and belittled him. He had thought for days that his father was dead, then learned he was a traitor to everyone and everything the kingdom stood for. His father’s plan was heartless and cruel, and was a personal grab for power to take over the kingdom through stealth and betrayal. Doing it for family didn’t make any of that any better, and now his father was dying, and his plan with him.

  “I finally saw your letter. You’re wrong. The people don’t need you. I’m sorry.” And he was sorry, to the deepest recesses of his heart. Sorry for those he failed to save, and sorry for those who had chosen betrayal over devotion.

  What would a baron do in his place? He wasn’t a scared child facing his father’s death. He wiped away his tears and pushed the heartache away. “You’re right that there will be a struggle for power. I will do what I can to find and support a new king. I will take these people to the capital and work to restore stability.”

  He looked into his father’s wide eyes. “I will do my best to see the sword of justice prevail. Only now do I see how similar we are, both rebelling against authority. Only our reasons are different. You sought to take power, where it was thrust upon me. I sought to save lives, where you spent them as currency.”

  Gavin had no choice but to keep going in his efforts to save his people. Anything else betrayed their trust, and he’d seen enough betrayal. He would accept a formal surrender and lead the remaining people to the capital to finalize a treaty. The whole situation was a messy assortment of assumed authorities and power by consent.

  His father’s plan bypassed some of that confusion, but it had been no more than the ravings of a power-hungry madman. Yet, through all that, his father’s plan succeeded almost to the end.

  He sat beside his father, then said, “I’ll burn a candle for you and see you’re remembered as an enemy of King Ithan. May you rest eternally in the kingdom you most deserve, whatever that may be.”

  His feelings burst to the foreground again, and he wept at the senseless loss on all sides. So much death and pain, all of it haunting him. What could he have done better? Who might he have saved if he were a little faster or cleverer?

  Gavin wiped his tears and stood to face Adrian. “I found a note from my father. King Ithan spared him because they worked together, but my father planned to betray the king. If it makes any difference, the note proves this is all true. He was misguided, but his long view was for a stronger kingdom. Now I have to find a way to have him put to rest publicly.”

  Adrian nodded. “Everyone believes he died in the first attack. It’s a workable fiction.”

  “No, it’s not. King Ithan knows better and believes my father betrayed us all to serve him. I can’t have him holding it over my head. I need a way to make the information in my father’s note public to keep his actions from being used against me later.”

  “It’s simpler to kill King Ithan.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I won’t be the kind of baron who would do that. I’ll come up with something. Can you help?”

  Adrian frowned. “Only if it’s for your sake, and not his.” He nodded at the barely breathing form of Gerald Stoutheart.

  Gavin placed his hand on his heart. “It’s for me, and for the people lost in this battle.”

  Adrian looked thoughtful. “You need a big splash, then. The surrender.”

  The spymaster grimaced, and then continued. “One more thing, sir. You said you wanted all the information I have, unpleasant or not. My men and I poisoned him.” Adrian handed the black bear’s master crystal to Gavin. “This is yours. The bear is tied up with the other captured animals.”

  Gavin wanted to lash out at Adrian, but it was pointless. Adrian hadn’t known of his father’s plan, and his father would have received a public execution for treason if he had been captured. There was no closure, no sense of justice or finality to the events his father had set into motion. Even if he couldn’t resolve everything, there was one thing he could do.

  He bent down and removed his father’s signet ring and put it on.

  “Please bring Saleena here to see me. I made a promise to her. You can have this note after she’s seen it.” He spread out the note on his knee and waited.

  * * *

  The tent door was open when Saleena peered in to see Gavin standing with a paper in his hand. Adrian had said nothing more than that Gavin had something important to tell her, so her imagination had run wild. She stepped into the tent at the beckoning of Adrian. “Gavin? What is it?”

  He handed her the note, and she began to read. Her emotions flew through curiosity, rage, hatred, and despair as the pieces fit together, but her face stayed rock still from exhaustion. “Why? Why do you show this to me now?”

  What could Gavin hope to gain by showing this letter to her?

  “I made a promise to you, Saleena. I promised to let you see who was responsible for your brother’s death.” Gavin tugged the cover back to expose his father’s ashen, sweating face, his eyes still staring upward.

  He continued, “He will die soon. I know it won’t bring your brother back. Ned died because he was in the way, jus
t like you and your father would have died. Knowing all of this won’t change anything that’s happened. The only thing it can change is the future. I’ll do whatever I can to save everyone I can. Nobody deserves to die as an inconvenient pawn. As people, we can be better than that.”

  Saleena didn’t scream. She didn’t cry on his shoulder. She wasn’t tempted to do either. She understood Gavin wasn’t to blame for the actions of his father, but she also saw Gavin had become distant and formal. He was in every way her baron now, rather than her childhood friend. He was the trusted and respected leader, and she was one of his advisers.

  Her brother was gone. Many friends and fellow travelers had died on the field of battle. All these deaths left blood on the hands of an invading king and the man who lay on the ground gasping and staring at the ceiling. It would be a mercy to kill him and free him from his lingering death, but mercy wasn’t something she could offer to the old baron.

  She nodded, turned, and left the tent without another word. She wiped tears on the sleeve of her red blouse, deciding she would grieve with her father once they had the time. Maybe Willem would like to join them.

  * * *

  Gavin had never seen a formal surrender nor had one been described to him, so he called Draken to fill him in as they formed up on the bloody battlefield.

  Draken said, “It’s quite simple. He offers his sword by stabbing it into the ground, and then he hangs a bag from it with his personal crystals. His most valued commanders and crystal users do the same by seniority. At that point, you and your best step forward and – Oh. This will be interesting. Normally, you and your command staff would represent us. Just for fun, rank your people from most critical in the battle to the least. Tell me when you see the issue.”

  Gavin gave it a moment of thought. “Oh, he’s not going to be pleased, is he?”

  Draken said, “Those laws banning commoners from crystal use, and from using more than one at a time were set out by the Accords ages ago. You’ve flouted those rules. Technically, there’s no rule against women using them, but it’s far from normal.”

  “As baron, I can authorize who uses them. That’s one Accord violation he can’t pin on me.”

  “But sir, there’s the unwritten rules as well. The gentlemanly agreements of how things are to be done. You and tradition really aren’t on speaking terms. You never have been.”

  “Well, then. The day’s early. Let’s go ahead and flout some more rules and procedures. Tell the cavalrymen, Saleena, Willem and the rest to mount up for a show of force, rather than following the ritual forms. Bring the cats up from the rear, and cattle and horses behind me in a line. Tell our crystal team I want a salute of some kind from each of them when I call for it. I want you and Jase to flank me.”

  An hour later, everyone was in place. Gavin searched through the cavalrymen and was unable to find Rider Faven among them. When he asked after the man, one of the riders responded with a salute. “Faven is at the capital, sir.”

  Gavin didn’t have time to ask for details. The cavalry men were maddening in their obscurity. It would take all his skill and patience to figure them out later.

  Gavin took one last look up and down the line to calm his nerves and stepped into his designated spot at the head of what could only loosely be called his army. It wasn’t really an army, and it was debatable as to whether it was even his. Not everyone was from his barony.

  Ithan Talandor, leader of the Graven Kingdom, stepped forward, rammed his sword into the ground and hung a leather bag from the hilt. Each of his men, in turn, did the same, leaving a row of swords in the ground tip first.

  Once they all stepped back, Gavin stepped forward and motioned Jase and Draken to come up behind him. He whispered, “Hold your arms out. This will get heavy.”

  Draken murmured, “Nobody will believe us when we describe this surrender. I hope this works.”

  Gavin knew to take credit himself was wrong. His people deserved the credit for their win, yet he had to still show respect for his conquered enemy to have any hope of creating a treaty they would honor.

  At the king’s sword, Gavin raised his voice to carry and said, “My force salutes you for your effort, and we respect the honor you have shown in a surrender that has saved lives and allowed a chance for peace.” He lifted the first bag and grasped the king’s sword. “On behalf of the cavalry, salute!”

  Behind him, horses reared and whinnied as Gavin handed the bag to Draken, then pulled the sword and handed it to Jase to set it across his outstretched arms.

  He moved to the next sword and repeated his actions. “On behalf of the cattle shield wall, salute!”

  The king and his men glanced at each other. It was clear this wasn’t what they expected.

  From behind he heard a stomped rhythm. At first, it was a soft thump, but it gained strength until it became a synchronized drum beat rhythm felt through the ground. They stopped all at once and let out the loudest combined moo he had ever heard. The solemnity of the event vanished as he struggled to keep a straight face.

  At the next sword, he regained his composure and gave the next line with a special effort to be a bit vague as to what kind of cat he talked about. “On behalf of the Cats of the Apocalypse, Doom Bringer, Skull Crusher, and Death Claw, salute!”

  A haunting trio of dissonant yowls from the tall grass put a chill up Gavin’s spine. It was impossible to tell the noise came from three common, rat-chasing cats. The king and his men darted glances to the side but stood their ground with nothing more than a few murmurs.

  Gavin removed one more sword and again called out, “On behalf of the canine patrol, salute!”

  A series of overlapping howls rose from behind Gavin. Mixed among the animal sounds was one human voice, that of Otis, who had lost Ruffian. As the pitches rose, dropped, and contrasted with each other, it felt like a cry of despair for the fallen. The sound cut off all at once, and Gavin stepped over once more.

  “On behalf of the airborne, salute.”

  The raven drifted down and settled on his shoulder, gave a nod, and flapped back into the air.

  “On behalf of the smallest and cleverest of the ground-based army, salute.”

  The badgers were the loudest of the animals as they set up a growl in the grass near Gavin, who subdued a nervous twitch at the unexpectedly close noise. The king also flinched at the noise. Gavin had growled like that at the throat of his bear during the fight.

  Gavin held his hands over his heart at the next sword. “On behalf of those who were lost.” He didn’t call for a salute, and didn’t even specify which army he spoke about, but continued down the line pulling swords and pouches until only two remained.

  “On my own behalf as the one who must answer for our losses.” He pulled the next to last sword and handed off the sword and crystals.

  Now that they were off balance with the odd ceremony, it was time to hit them with his best shot.

  “Finally, on behalf of my father Baron Gerald Stoutheart who died in today’s battle. He led you here to betray and destroy you. Without our intervention, he may have succeeded. You owe him your life, and he will be remembered as your closest enemy.”

  Gasps were heard from behind Gavin on the hill. Gavin wondered how long it would take for the king to realize he owed his life to Gavin twice over. The king’s clenched jaw and white knuckles told Gavin all he needed to know.

  Perhaps now his father could be buried with honor despite his failings.

  King Ithan opened his mouth, but he held his peace as he folded his arms and glared at Gavin.

  Gavin gave a nod to the king as one would to a peer then he pulled the last sword and handed it off with the accompanying pouch.

  A wild roar of applause erupted from the hill. The animal salutes joined in once again as everyone from his camp chanted, “Stoutheart! Stoutheart!”

  Gavin marched back to face the king and waited for the noise to die.

  King Ithan took one step forward and spoke loud enoug
h to carry across the field. “You are not the man I expected you to be. You honor us even after you beat us through luck and shrewd cunning. Your people give you fanatical devotion when you demand none at all.”

  King Ithan lowered his voice so it would only be heard by those nearest them. “Despite all that, this entire kingdom will be nothing but a smear of soot within two years, once the remaining Crystal Kings discover your breach of the Accords. That is, if your people don’t put you down themselves. I don’t know how you managed it, but I can tell you’ve set someone up to run that entire herd solo. I know what to look for. You will stand alone, and you will be overrun and destroyed to prevent the world from descending into chaos. It’s only a matter of time.” He returned the same nod Gavin had given to him, that of a peer.

  Gavin mulled the king’s threat. How devoted to him were the people? Devoted enough to follow him into a larger war? Weren’t they only doing what it took to survive under trying circumstances? Gavin felt no guilt for what he had done for his people, but had no desire to push them into a war that King Ithan implied was already on its way.

  With a start, he realized King Ithan waited for a response. “You pushed desperate people to defend themselves against your unprovoked attack. They have been forever changed, and not for the better. As for the Crystal Kings, if our dead King Vargas was any indication, then I’d say the kings have their share of guilt. Can you tell me you’ve never violated any of the Accords? Was it to save your people from destruction or for your personal gain?”

  In his mind, Gavin ran through the short speech worked out earlier with Draken, and scrapped it. In old times, enemy commanders were often executed on the field of battle, and while tempting, both Draken and Gavin rejected execution as an option. The king was more valuable as a bargaining chip, and Gavin didn’t want to be responsible for his death when there were other options.

  There had been no time to discuss how to put a treaty together, even if someone was available to represent the whole country. Nobody in the camp had the sort of expertise needed to write a treaty.

 

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