“I plan to take the authority that has been so rudely thrust upon me,” he said quietly but with intensity and an undercurrent of anger. “I plan to claim the throne. I plan to demand that the Regent bow to my authority and kiss my ring.”
Anatoly raised an eyebrow. The old man-at-arms understood anger. He could see it dancing in Alexander’s gold-flecked eyes. He was also his protector and he had a duty to question decisions made in anger. “If the Regent refuses?” he asked.
Alexander smiled with absolutely no humor. “You’d better be ready to fight.” He held Anatoly’s eyes for just long enough to see that his old mentor understood his resolve before turning to Jack. “And you’d better be ready to talk.” Jack nodded.
He looked to his sister and Isabel. “Are you with me?”
Abigail snorted derisively as she slung her bow across her back. “What do you think?”
Isabel put her hand on his chest and looked him in the eye without a word. Her eyes were so beautiful, so filled with intelligence, and so fierce all at once. He gently took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist before turning to the ladder and starting his ascent.
It was a long climb, easily forty feet or more. At the top was a little platform off to the side with a much shorter ladder leading up to the trapdoor. He didn’t hesitate. When he lifted the heavy wooden door, he saw that it opened in the floor of a long, dimly lit, bare-stone corridor. He raised the door farther and climbed into the hall, carefully laying the door onto the floor to avoid making any noise. The hall looked to be exactly what Jack said it was. It was unadorned and purely functional, yet clean and frequently used.
In short order, they were all up the ladder and into the little passageway. Jack took only a moment to orient himself before leading the way down the hall. He led them around a few twists and turns before stopping at a large door.
“Here we are. This is one of the servants’ entrances to the throne room. From the looks of it, the room is dark,” Jack said, lifting a taper from the glass-enclosed candle sconce on the wall next to the door. He eased the door open gently to a quiet room that had the look and feel of a place that hadn’t been used in a long time.
Jack held the candle high and strolled in. The room was big, probably fifty feet wide and a hundred feet long. The arched ceiling was easily fifty feet high at the apex. At one end was a raised dais of white marble shot through with black. Each of the five steps was a half circle that met the back wall. In the center of the dais was a large, ornately carved, jewel-encrusted, gold throne. To each side was a chair of lesser size but equal ornamentation. Behind the throne was a heavy, red velvet curtain that hung from a brass rail twenty feet up on the wall. Sewn into the curtain in gold thread was the crest of Ruatha.
High-backed, heavy wooden chairs lined the long sides of the room with ornate brass sconces holding finely crafted oil lamps above them. Between each sconce hung a rich and vibrantly colored tapestry depicting scenes from the distant past. The floor was pure white marble polished to a mirror shine and covered with a thin layer of dust. Running from the base of the dais down the center of the room to the large double doors at the far end was a plush, deep-red carpet with gold embroidery along the edges. All in all, it was about what Alexander expected a throne room to look like.
Jack began lighting the lamps along the wall with his taper. As the lamps brightened the room, the colors of the tapestries stood out in contrast to the simple white of the floor.
“All right, we probably don’t have much time. Isabel, I want you in the chair to the right of the throne, and make sure that medallion your father gave you is visible. Abigail, you take the chair to the left. Both of you keep your bows handy. Anatoly, I want you to stand just to the left of Abigail. Jack, you will be just to the right of Isabel.”
Alexander strode to the throne and inspected the area. He looked behind the heavy red and gold curtain and saw that it hung a good three feet from the wall and concealed a door as well as a heavy iron bar leaning against the wall. He dropped the bar into place to prevent anyone from entering the room through that door. That left the double doors at the other end of the room and the servants’ doors in the middle of each long wall.
When he saw the heavy, red, rope pull cord that blended in with the curtain, he almost laughed. “Jack, is this a bell?”
Jack nodded, “It sounds the bell in the palace tower to put all on notice that the King is in court and will hear the petitions of the people. That bell hasn’t tolled in a very long time.”
“Huh, I was wondering how I was going to get the Regent to come to me,” Alexander said as Jack lit the last lamp. The room was now brightly lit and even with the thin coating of dust on every surface, the place looked important.
Alexander slapped the dust from the thick red cushion on his new throne and took a seat. Isabel and Abigail were a little more hesitant.
“Alexander, I’m not royalty,” Isabel said a little uncertainly. “It’s not right for me to sit on the queen’s throne. Maybe it would be best if I stood.”
Alexander shook his head. “No. I need you to sit and I need you to look like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You are a Princess of Glen Morillian by birth and my betrothed, are you not?”
Isabel looked a little flustered. “Glen Morillian doesn’t have princesses,” her face reddened a little, “but I have accepted your courtship,” she said with a genuine smile.
“Then you will be the Queen of Ruatha. Take your throne,” Alexander commanded gently but seriously.
Her eyes widened at the realization of everything her feelings for Alexander actually meant. She started to say something but thought better of it and nervously sat down on the queen’s throne.
Abigail stood looking at her brother with a look that said he was getting into trouble again.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He motioned for his sister to take the throne on his left.
“I’m not royalty. I’ll stand, thank you very much.” She was looking less and less enthusiastic about this whole plan.
Alexander smiled at his sister’s discomfort. It took a lot to rattle Abigail, and Alexander had no intention of letting her off so easily. “You are Lady Abigail Ruatha, Princess of the Isle of Ruatha by blood.” He smiled broadly at the look of dismay that spread across her face.
“I am not!” she said hotly. “Just because you’ve got that mark on your neck doesn’t make me the princess of anything.”
Jack interceded gently, “I’m afraid it does, Abigail. Alexander is the rightful King of Ruatha. As his sister, you are Princess.” He shrugged apologetically at the glare she directed his way.
“See, you’re a princess, so sit on the throne and try to look royal.” Alexander gave her his best “gotcha” smile. She returned a look that said the conversation wasn’t over but took her seat, anyway.
Alexander let all mirth drain away and found the anger that he’d been saving for this moment. When he spoke next he was deadly serious.
“When those doors open, you are the Queen of Ruatha,” he said to Isabel. She nodded almost imperceptibly. “And you are the Princess of Ruatha,” he said to his sister. She held his gaze without flinching. “Abigail, even if you don’t believe it, whoever comes through that door has to believe it or we’re all dead.” Her gaze faltered a little.
“We have to convince the whole world that we are the rightful rulers of Ruatha. If we can’t do that, then everything is lost and Phane will win.” He looked at Abigail for her buy-in.
She pursed her lips and nodded. Then she unbraided her long silvery hair, fished a brush out of her bag and started brushing out the trail dirt. “If I’m going to be a princess, I might as well try to look like one.”
Isabel frowned a little and followed her lead. She seemed a bit flustered, but offered Alexander a warm smile just the same when he put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her while she worked the knots out of her rich chestnut-brown hair.
“Looks like we’re about
ready. Jack, would you do the honors?” Alexander asked, motioning to the bell pull that hadn’t been pulled in so very long.
Jack took hold of the heavy red rope and looked to Alexander for one last confirmation. He nodded. Jack took a deep breath and held it as he pulled hard. The peal of the bell reverberated through the stone of the palace. Jack pulled again and then again. The bell rang out loud and clear, sending the message to everyone in the city of New Ruatha that the King had returned.
Chapter 45
The ringing of the bell faded slowly, leaving only deathly silence behind. Alexander held his breath and strained to listen for the sound of people approaching. For just a moment his courage began to falter. He knew he was trapped if things didn’t go well. If they had to fight, they might not survive. Then he thought of Darius, and the anger he’d been nursing all night blossomed within him. He grabbed hold of it with his mind and held onto it for the courage it gave him. He breathed slowly and deeply, trying to remain calm while keeping his anger-fueled courage in force.
He heard the sound of boots in the distance, and the calm of having a set course washed over him. It was a surreal feeling. He sat on the throne of Ruatha, his sword leaning against the right armrest, and waited. He could feel the tension. Even Anatoly seemed nervous but he stood his ground, leaning on his war axe.
Alexander had been thinking about his magic while they traveled through the dark of the underground passages beneath the palace. He’d come to believe that it would provide him with the strength he needed to meet any challenge. His experience at the edge of the forest had given him a sense of faith in it. He didn’t understand how to use it yet but it had provided the warning that saved their lives. Alexander felt an all-encompassing confidence settle over him. If there was a fight over the throne, he did not fear it. His magic would provide the edge he needed.
As he voiced his newfound certainty within his own mind and felt the sureness of true faith, a subtle change came over him, like a piece of a puzzle snapping into place. His awareness of the room became clearer, more intimate, and more detailed. Things that he couldn’t see with his eyes, he could clearly see in his mind’s eye. On the screen of his mind he could discern every detail. He could focus his attention on any point in the room and see the details clearly but without taking anything away from his normal vision or his second sight. The sensation was so unexpected and new that he almost forgot where he was and what he was doing.
He sent his awareness into the nooks and crannies of the room to see what he could see. He was surprised to discover the balconies high on each side wall that looked down on the throne room. They were concealed in the darkness. He looked closely at the small places and found details that he made a note to check on later, a scratch on the leg of a chair here and a missing nail there. He had to be sure he could trust his strange new way of seeing and a test was the best way he knew to verify what he saw.
It wasn’t like normal vision. It was more like the scene from a daydream, but vivid and clear. He had little doubt the things he was seeing were real. He closed his eyes and still his mind’s eye saw clearly wherever he directed his attention. He relaxed the focus of his mind’s eye, and the daydream visions faded but the general awareness of the room and the objects and space all around him were still very clear in the background of his awareness. It was as if his mind had aligned itself with the manifestation of the firmament in the immediate area and he could see reality at a deeper and more exacting level than his senses could ever perceive. He noted that he had none of the sensations he’d been told to beware of when looking into the firmament. Other wizards had to be careful when they accessed the firmament lest they become lost in the infinite possibilities it represented. Alexander felt none of that. He simply saw more of his surroundings with his magic than he could with his senses.
The sounds of boots were coming closer. With his mind, he reached out past the door and saw the hallway. A dozen palace guards were running toward the throne room, followed by a smaller group of men in robes. One was clearly the Regent; the others looked like advisors. At least one was a wizard. Alexander realized that he could still see a person’s colors through his new vision.
He took a hard look at Regent Cery. The man was just as Jack had described him, competent but not ambitious. He was a man who would rather not have power but didn’t trust those around him to wield it with wisdom and fairness. He saw his station as a duty with privileges, not as a right or an entitlement. Alexander felt a weight lift at seeing Cery’s colors. His plan hinged on the Regent being an honorable man.
Alexander brought his focus back when the soldiers approached the door. He pulled his cloak collar down a little to expose the mark on his neck and checked his sword. He could see the tension in Isabel but also the firm resolve. Her bow was leaning, string down, against the left side of her throne and her quiver was leaning against the right armrest along with her sword. In just a few minutes she had managed to brush her hair into a lustrous chestnut brown that made her look regal even in Rangers’ leather armor.
He smiled a little at the twist of fate that had brought her into his life. Of all the things that had happened to him since that awful day when his brother was murdered, meeting Isabel was the one point of light in a very dark period of his life. The more time he spent with her, the more he loved her. She was strong and smart but those weren’t the qualities that most captivated him. She was beautiful in a stunning sort of way. He had to admit that that didn’t hurt, but the essential goodness of her nature was what he found almost humbling. She was tough and capable but she was also beautiful at heart. He was drawn helplessly toward that quality most of all.
When the door burst open and a dozen heavily armed men stormed in, Alexander snapped back to the present and the task at hand.
He sat on his throne, leaning his face on his left fist, with his right hand stretched out on the armrest not inches from the hilt of his sword. Both Isabel and Abigail sat straight backed, looking for all the world like they belonged there. All the tension had drained from Anatoly at the very real possibility of a fight. He stood leaning lightly on the hilt of his axe.
The guards flowed in, fanned out into a battle line, and began their approach toward the dais. Alexander watched them come, trying to look disinterested while cataloging their armor and weapons. They wore chain mail, carried small round shields strapped to their left arms, and held spears in their right hands. Each had a sword on his belt. By the way they moved, Alexander knew they had training in the use of their weapons but little actual experience. They advanced to within ten feet of the dais and stopped before their commander stepped forward.
Alexander scanned their colors. Mostly, they were just men doing a job. The commander was unsure of himself but put on a good show of authority. He was even more unsure of Alexander.
“In the name of the Regent of New Ruatha, I command you to surrender and stand trial for trespass.” The guard commander spoke forcefully but with an undercurrent of nervousness.
Alexander ignored him and studied the men just entering the room. He could tell that the first was Regent Cery. He was an average-looking man about six feet tall. He wasn’t fat but he wasn’t slender either. His hair was receding and his neatly cropped beard was white. He wore relatively simple robes and no jewelry except for a heavy medallion with the crest of Ruatha etched in gold on its face.
His retinue consisted of two functionaries, a high-ranking soldier, and a wizard. It was clear from his colors that the wizard had already cast a spell or two, but Alexander couldn’t discern the purpose of his magic.
The palace guard stood aside when the Regent approached. He stopped at the base of the dais and just looked at Alexander and his companions with incredulity. It looked like he was trying to make up his mind what to do. Alexander said nothing but gently cleared his throat.
Jack deliberately cleared his throat on cue and bowed slightly to the Regent. A look of recognition creased the Regent’s brow at seeing Jack.
“Regent Cery, I am Guild Master Jack Colton, Bard of New Ruatha. It is my great honor to present Lord Alexander, King of Ruatha.”
The Regent flinched. His eyes snapped to Alexander while confusion and doubt danced across his face, but Alexander thought he saw something more. He thought he saw hope.
“It has long been foretold that the line of Ruatha would be remade. Lord Alexander has arrived to fulfill that promise. Let it be known far and wide, the King of Ruatha has returned,” Jack pronounced in a tone that gave weight to the words.
Alexander held the Regent’s eyes. Cery was struggling. New Ruatha had been founded on the promise that the line of Ruatha would one day be remade, but those stories were so old that they had become just stories. Alexander sat up and pulled the collar of his cloak down to give the Regent a good look at the mark burned into his neck.
Regent Cery’s eyes got a little wider. The soldiers started to murmur amongst themselves.
“Regent Cery,” Isabel said. He had a hard time pulling his eyes away from Alexander. When he looked her way, she tapped the medallion of Glen Morillian hanging around her neck. “My father sends his regards and has authorized me to speak on his behalf. Lord Alexander is recognized as King of Ruatha by the council of Glen Morillian and the Warden of the Forest. Mage Cedric’s promise has been fulfilled.”
Cery’s doubt was beginning to fade. He looked back to Alexander and studied him for a long moment. He nodded ever so slightly when he made his decision.
“If you truly are the King, then I welcome you home.” The Regent spoke with the confidence of long practice at command. “However, I must have unequivocal proof before I will accede to your authority. You are marked as the legend says you would be, and you have the word of the Forest Warden to support your claim. These are sufficient cause to welcome you into the palace as an honored guest but I see that your sword is not the Thinblade. The legend is clear. The one who will remake the line of Ruatha will wield the Thinblade.”
Thinblade Page 40