Thinblade (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book One)

by David A. Wells

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 retu
rned,” 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.”

  “Master Colton told me you were a cautious man,” Alexander said. “Given my recent experiences, I’m coming to respect caution more and more. We’ve been hunted by agents of Prince Phane. The journey has been long and hard. Your offer of hospitality is most welcome but I must warn you, our enemies are close on our heels and quite determined. Once they realize that we’re here, they will find a way to attack.”

  “I see.” The Regent took a thoughtful breath and nodded to himself before turning to his advisors. “General Markos, secure the palace. Assign an honor guard to our guest and his companions. Handpick your best and most trustworthy men. Minister Savio, see to the preparation of the guest suite in the north wing. Coordinate with the general to ensure the entire wing is secure.”

  Both men nodded, then bowed to Alexander before turning and leaving the room.

  “Perhaps we should adjourn to a nearby meeting chamber,” Regent Cery suggested. “Your rooms will be a few minutes before they’re ready and I would be interested to hear any news you might bring.”

  “Thank you, Regent,” Alexander said as he stood.

  His new sight was still alive in the back of his mind. He could still see all around in his mind’s eye while seeing through his normal vision at the same time. It was a sensation that was going to take some getting used to. Isabel and Abigail stood with him.

  Jack cleared his throat to draw the Regent’s attention. “Regent Cery, I would like to introduce Lady Isabel Alaric, Lord Alexander’s betrothed; Lady Abigail Ruatha, Lord Alexander’s sister; and Master Anatoly Grace, Lord Alexander’s champion.” Anatoly gave Jack a smirk at the title of champion but the Regent bowed respectfully to each in turn.

  “You are all most welcome. If you have need of anything, please do not hesitate to ask. Our staff pride themselves on impeccable service and attention to our guests.”

  Before he could continue, there was a commotion from the door just before a large group entered the chamber. The man in the lead could only be the Guild Mage. Lucky was at his right, with another wizard at his left. Behind them by only a few paces were a dozen bards led by a broadly smiling Owen.

  Mage Kelvin Gamaliel stood a good six and a half feet tall and easily weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. He was barrel-chested and heavily muscled with swarthy skin, large powerful hands, and coarse, closely cropped black hair with a touch of grey starting to show. He wore finely crafted black plate armor that showed just a hint of red when the light was right and carried the biggest war hammer Alexander had ever seen. The man to his left was the quintessential-looking wizard, dressed in ordinary grey robes and walking with a finely made oak staff shod in silver. Lucky smiled broadly as he entered with the Mage.

  Owen was dressed in the same simple earth tones that he always wore. His troupe of bards all dressed a little differently and each was distinct. Some wore finery as if it was their normal attire, while others dressed more simply. Some carried instruments, while others didn’t. All of them looked intelligent and inquisitive as they looked around at the details of the throne room, no doubt cataloging everything they saw so they could enrich their stories and songs with intimate detail.

  Regent Cery looked resigned at the new arrivals, yet not in the least surprised. The King’s Bell had not rung in many centuries. Everyone in New Ruatha would have heard it and would want to know what it meant.

  The Guild Mage fixed Alexander with his piercing grey eyes. Alexander could feel the scrutiny as the wizard evaluated him. He didn’t waver. He stood his ground and met the Mage with his own gold-flecked golden-brown eyes. The Mage’s colors radiated power in a way that Alexander had only seen once before: the man in black. He was now certain that the enemy pursuing him was a mage as well. That knowledge answered one question and replaced it with a more definite threat.

  The biggest difference Alexander saw when he looked at Mage Gamaliel was the confluence of different auras. His armor gave off an aura all its own, much less complicated and dynamic than a living aura, but visible nonetheless. His giant war hammer also radiated a clear reddish color. Then there were a number of other items that produced colors all their own. Alexander remembered Lucky telling him that Kelvin Gamaliel was an enchanter. He was a master craftsman who could imbue items with magic. Each item of power he possessed revealed itself to Alexander in the colors it produced. Alexander filed that piece of information away for later use.

  A quick survey of the rest of the approaching visitors revealed only the other wizard’s staff to be magical in nature. It glowed brightly with a clear soft-blue aura.

  Mage Gamaliel took his eyes off Alexander just long enough to nod to Regent Cery. “Good evening, Regent,” he said.

  Cery smiled politely to the Guild Mage and nodded slightly when the Mage passed and came to the foot of the dais.

  He stopped and looked at Alexander very deliberately. Alexander could see the aura of the amulet he wore pulse while the Mage scrutinized him. The room had fallen silent. The tension returned to Anatoly who was equal to the Mage in size but not in power.

  “Tell me, Mage Gamaliel, what do you see?” Alexander decided to be bold. Audacity had served him well today.

  Realization flickered across the Mage’s face ever so slightly. “I would not answer such a question in public.” He was not angry or disrespectful but simply matter-of-fact. “May I look more closely at the mark on your neck?” he asked.

  Alexander nodded and pulled his cloak collar down to reveal the scar burned into his flesh on the night this ordeal had begun.

  Mage Gamaliel strode up to the fourth stair of the dais and leaned over to look at Alexander’s neck. “May I?” he asked, quietly requesting permission to touch the mark.

  Alexander nodded.

  The Mage whispered words in an old and arcane language that Alexander had never heard spoken before, while he placed two fingers on the mark and closed his eyes. A long moment passed. The Mage’s eyes snapped open and he looked Alexander in the eye for just a moment before nodding once slightly and turning to face the crowd.

  “He bears the mark of Mage Cedric. The stories of legend are coming to pass.”

  The room fell silent at his pronouncement. Alexander looked out over the crowd of expectant people. He felt the burden of his duty weigh even heavier under the eyes of so many whose futures depended on his success. It looked to him like they were expecting him to speak but he didn’t know what to say. He decided to suggest that they move to a council room, when he caugh
t movement out of the corner of his mind’s eye.

  It was an odd sensation to see that which he could not have seen. To be aware of things beyond his senses felt unnatural. There was a man on the balcony above and he had a crossbow. He was moving in a crouch and was almost to the low stone wall that served as a railing. From there he would be in position to take his shot.