“Father,” she shouted, feeling like his little princess again as he rounded the entrance to the tent and walked in.
He didn’t speak. His two ministers stood on either side of him. King Kalon outstretched his arms and pulled her in close, squeezing the air out of her. His embrace took away all of her fears. As he released her, fear came back.
“My sweet Broken-Moon,” he said, “I wish we could sit and speak after so long but we must take control of this situation.”
Londenia explained everything from the beginning—about meeting the tribes in Hal’s Forest and Taigo leading them to the devastation in the Watch Kingdom, to King Stewart being butchered and the disappearance of Romarus. “Surely it could not have been him. I know he had a temper but it was just the frustrations of a young man. It couldn’t have driven him to this, could it?” she clawed for reassurances from her wise father.
“I do not feel that the son of Locutus could be capable of such an act. And you said that King Stewart was stabbed. Where would Romarus have got such a weapon in a cell? Is it not more likely that these were the same attackers that left Deca’Point in ruin?”
Her father always made sense of things. And this was true, there was no evidence to (without doubt), blame Romarus for King Stewart’s death but it was still a possibility. Or at least it was the worst explanation, and Londenia’s overactive mind tended to fall on the most terrible outcome.
But if King Stewart and the two guards were murdered by unknown attackers, then Romarus must have been kidnapped. He would surely not have fled without first coming to me. His body must be lying dead somewhere. Her overactive thoughts were interrupted by her father’s voice.
“And why are you camped so close to a town filled with death?” He turned to one of his ministers who Londenia remembered from her childhood; his face seemed to sag more than when she had last laid eyes upon him. “Haager, start the relocation of the camp, five hundred footfalls to the north, next to the caves.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Haager bowed and left the tent.
“Have you sent a rider ahead to the coast to inform King Hardol of our late arrival? It is likely his ship will arrive in the morning. You and your party will not arrive for another two days at least.” King Kalon was in full flow, saving the day.
Londenia noticed her father stated, very specifically, you and not we. “Yes, we sent a rider this morning.” Londenia paused. “Father,” she said, lowering her voice so that the other minister couldn’t hear, “why did you say ‘your’ party?”
“My sweet Broken-Moon,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her eyes, “this is your journey now. I must go back and see that the same fate that happened here does not befall Last Kingdom. And no one has heard from King Retziz on the Broken Arm for over two moon-turns.”
“I’ll come with you. We all will.” She could almost feel her feet moving into a stomp like those of a spoiled child.
“My sweet girl, you can do this and you must do this. I trust the magisters in the Still Cities and there is much wisdom there. If they felt it necessary to take us there, then we should listen.”
“Exactly… Us! You must come too. I can’t go on alone any longer.” The pressure of—for all practical purposes—single handedly leading her people, had caught up with her.
He wiped away a tear from her face. “We must find out what is so important. I will send Minister Eeliro with you.”
The man he spoke of bowed as his name was mentioned. He must have seen at least fifty years—he was of an age with her father.
King Kalon continued, “And I must go to defend what is left of the kingdoms.”
She embraced him again, pulled in tight and let out an ocean of emotions, built up over many moon-turns, if not years. He soaked them up like a bathing sponge and as she stepped back, she felt strength and lightness in her body. “It is good to have you here, Father. Even if it is for such a short time.”
“We will see you safely to King Hardol’s ship at the harbor and from there you will be safe. I would trust King Hardol with my life,” her father said with a warm smile.
Londenia filled her lungs and sat down on the royal bed. King Kalon sat next to her and asked his minister to leave. The thin man with graying hair bowed his head and left the tent. After a short silence, Kalon spoke again. “And tell me, how is my other sweet? Tell of my Bostonia.”
She had forgotten all about her sister in the past few days. She realized how little her father knew of her recently. It was before Bostonia’s joining to Romarus that she had last sent a letter. “There is much you do not know and I regret not taking the time to inform you but this situation, and its urgency, overshadowed everything else.”
Her face must have been more serious than it needed to be as her father’s jaw dropped.
“Ten Gods! Please tell me she is well!”
“Yes, Father. Don’t worry. When we left Last Kingdom she was well. We suspected she could be with child.”
King Kalon breathed deep and looked up, saying, “Thank the Ten! But who gave her this child?”
“Her husband gave it to her before he left. But like I said, we don’t know if she actually was with child. They had only—”
Her father’s brow wrinkled. “Her husband?”
“She was joined to Romarus, before our leaving.” Londenia put a hand on her father’s shoulder as if she had just told him somebody had died. “I did not know that he was capable of what has happened when I allowed this to go ahead…in fact, it was Romarus I was more worried for because you know what Bos—”
King Kalon pressed a finger to his daughter’s lips. “My Broken-Moon, it seems unlikely the boy was responsible and I know you would not have willingly joined your little sister to some kind of murderer.” He took a deep breath and his voice went strangely high pitched and shaky as a tear ran down his face. “Did he treat her well?” He bit his fingernails.
“He treated her better than she treated him.” Londenia gave a slight laugh to calm the lump forming in her throat.
King Kalon let out a laugh and a whimper. “Yes, she always did have a sharp tongue on her. Remember the time you snuck into her chambers and put on her dress? The purple silk one? And you tore the neck? I have never heard such words come from a lady.” He laughed louder this time and leaned over to embrace his little princess as his shoulders shook and emotion took him. “I wish you didn’t have to live through such times.”
It was a strange sight to see her strong father, who was respected by so many, crying on her shoulder. She attempted to reassure him, saying, “We will make it better, Father. You are going to save the kingdoms and I am going to find out more about the threat the magisters speak of.”
“My brave Broken-Moon,” he said with a smile, brushing her hair away from her tear-wet face.
She slept soundly that night, knowing her father and his men were close by, ready to protect them at a moment’s notice. It was perhaps not only the protection that allowed such restful sleep. It was also the thought that if a decision needed to be made, she would not be solely responsible. When a situation had arisen over the last moon-turn, all eyes had turned to her; the blues and browns of those eyes screaming, what will you have us do? King Kalon would shield her from these questions—even if it was for just a few days.
She woke in her lonely bedroll on the floor of the royal tent that she had shared for so many nights with Romarus. If she half shut her eyes, she was sure she could still see the boy king’s shape in the covers and furs.
The tent glowed from outside more than normal. Judging by the blurry round ball of the sun through the skin of her dwelling, it must have been near midday. I can’t remember the last time I slept this long, Queen Londenia thought as a wave of guilt rushed over her, as she thought of everybody else already hard at work—planning, packing and cooking.
Within an hour of waking, she was on the back of a bronco and the party was making its way, with haste, east to Dilly by the coast,
where they would board the ship to the Bay Kingdom. Having the strength of her father’s near fifty-strong royal guard, added to her own and Queen Tanya’s, allowed her nerves to rest easier than they had for quite some time. Relief also came from finally leaving the stench and devastation of the Watch Kingdom behind. The air had never smelt so fresh. The line of broncos, guards and servants, led by royalty from the Wetlands, Last Kingdom and Long Kingdom, wound its way down a dirt track that weaved through rolling fields and small woods. The trees were far smaller than the hackle trees of Hal’s Forest. They were more like the great oak trees she grew up surrounded by in Long Kingdom. Their leaves had started to turn orange-and-brown and a slight chill cut the air—the turning-season had come.
As they passed by, smallfolk, working the land, would dip their straw hats without a hint of a smile and continue about their business. They’re scared, Londenia thought. These were all King Servin’s people and now he’s dead. I wonder if our messages reached them and if they helped in any way. What do they do now? Who do they follow? Then a thought struck her, do they even care? Royals always believe the people following them want their leadership. If somebody were to come and take over a kingdom, it was thought that the smallfolk would surely rise up against it to protect their royals. Why should they care? As long as their lands are fertile and they are happy, then why should they bother about who they pay their taxes to and who they must salute?
Only the very young children playing by the dirt track gave them any hint of a smile. That evening, a little girl with golden hair was playing on the path, with a child that must have been her brother. She fell face first into the mud. Londenia immediately halted the party and dismounted her white bronco to help the crying child. The golden-haired girl, not knowing how to behave in the presence of a queen, ran off after her brother and disappeared into the cornfield. Londenia mounted her bronco again and their party pushed on towards the Dilly.
The yellow of the cornfields were replaced by woods of oak. It wasn’t until late into the night that they stopped and made camp at the edge of a small wooded area overlooking the valley leading to the Bay of Blue.
As they continued their hurried journey towards the coast the next day, Londenia realized she was almost constantly thinking about Romarus. It was as if he had three faces. His first face was the bashful, dim-witted, even comical one that Londenia found it hard to be annoyed at. The second of his faces was the charming, manly and, even in some ways, heroic leader who stood up for her against the forest tribes, and who had pleasured her in her bed on that one magical night.
The final face was that of an insolent young boy, or angry vengeful child, that would snap at the strangest of things. That was the face she pictured most, of late. The one she imagined he had on when he murdered King Stewart…if he murdered King Stewart. He couldn’t have. But then again, if he didn’t, where is he now? Why would he leave me with no hint of a goodbye if he hadn’t committed some evil? Whenever she saw the third nasty mask, she tried to keep in her head the words her father spoke when he first arrived at their camp: “I do not feel that the son of Locutus could be capable of such things.”
As well as Romarus’s many faces, she just simply wondered where he was and if he was safe. If he had told her of what he did, she was sure, deep down, she would have helped him somehow. In some ways, it was his secretiveness about everything that was more hurtful than the actual acts. It is as if he has cheated me, or scorned my honor when he lay with Pauline. But this was of course not true. It was Stewart, and to a certain extent, Pauline, whom he had dishonored. His only failing to Londenia was that he did not confide in her. I am his queen and therefore should not be jealous of those he chooses to lie with. But the hurt of not being the first to know, or the one he confided in, cut her deeply.
She was leading the party for some time after they broke for lunch. Her father rode alongside her on his large black bronco with horns the length of a mortal’s arms. Her mount looked a striking white next to her father’s. She watched him in his flowing red cloak and brown leather gloves on the reins. Londenia prayed to Beverine that King Kalon could stay to protect her and her people on their onward journey.
“Broken-Moon, you do realize you are very obvious when you stare,” her father said, with his eyes locked straight ahead on the dirt track.
She snapped her eyes forward. “I wasn’t staring.”
“No, you were wishing. I could hear you.”
“I was praying, actually,” she said, in the same way that she would have done when she didn’t get her own way as a child.
“Praying that I would stay with you, no doubt. My sweet Broken-Moon, if the gods wished me to stay to protect you, they would not have allowed the other kingdoms to fall into ruin. I feel they have plans for you yet, and your path veers away from mine. Once you are with King Hardol you will be as safe as you are with me.”
I’ll never feel as safe as I am with you, she thought, but didn’t want the others who rode close to hear her weakness.
“And last I heard King Anthony was sighted sailing the Bay of Blue with a host and plans to go in convoy for the remainder of the journey too. So there will be two kings with half their royal guard with them to shield you. I have never met King Anthony but I hear, like all the previous Kings of the Dead Cities, that he is a very wise man—if not a little reclusive.”
It was true that all kings who rule the Dead Cities had wisdom. It was in these ruined cities, that the gods once lived among mortals before the Great Poison. There were five cities: Raydem, Haven, Claminton, Ver’eir and Camptal. And all five had now lain abandoned and ruined for nearly one thousand years. All people feared to enter them, as it was suspected that they were where the Great Poison began. It is said that the knowledge and power of the gods are contained within these places, and that mortals should not hold such knowledge.
“King Anthony, and his father before him, and his father before him, have guarded the vast dead cities for centuries,” Londenia’s father continued. “So I do not doubt his capability to look after a small party of travelers.”
She smiled. “But two kings cannot compare to my father though.”
He laughed. “Are you expecting a treat for being so nice? I’m afraid I left my sweets’ chest back in Deca’Rise.” His whole face lit up with a smile.
Londenia had forgotten all about the wooden chest her father kept in the throne room. It had sweet-balls wrapped in silver foil that he had shipped in from Narscape. She, her brother and Bostonia would receive one if they behaved during court.
“But seriously, my daughter, I have said before that I would trust King Hardol with my life. It was he that I entrusted to raise your brother, Lestaron, who returned to us a noble young man. Also, I know our Queen Tanya there is very much on your side.” He flicked a glance to the Queen of the Wetlands who rode a few rows behind them. “I think even the mighty Tromonor would drop his great staff and run, if faced with her wrath.” King Kalon winked.
Queen Tanya by her side gave Londenia strength. The Wetlander’s friendship and spirit were like a windbreak against the storm that seemed to be getting stronger with every day that passed.
Her father’s words and reassurances helped ease her anxiety somewhat but as they arrived at the Bay of Blue, her nerves prickled further. The rider that Londenia had sent ahead was waiting for them at the small deserted harbor, known as the Dilly.
“It seems my trip was un-needed, m’lady,” her rider said as he bowed. “I have seen no sign of King Hardol’s ship. However, there was a storm last night out at sea, which may have delayed them.”
They made their camp around an old crumbling building that used to be the main office for the, once thriving, harbor of the Dilly. Londenia’s heart weighed heavy as she slept alone in her tent. Her stomach was twisted in discomfort as the sun rose without sign of King Hardol’s flagship, the Fair Blue Maiden. Part of her was glad, as it meant she could be close to her father’s protection for longer. This was of cours
e, just delaying the inevitable.
That evening, as Scarred Nahar lit the water of the Bay of Blue, there was a call from Grey’Gon from outside her royal tent. “M’lady,” he said, lifting the flap of the tent, “King Hardol’s ship approaches.”
“Thank you, Grey’Gon. Please signal the dismantling of camp. I wish to be ready to leave by the time King Hardol’s boats come ashore.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Grey’Gon bowed and left. She heard his shouts to the camp.
It was time to say goodbye to her shield and protector. She left her tent and walked through the dark bustling camp as everything was being packed, ready for transport. She found her father speaking with Minister Eeliro. As he saw her approach, he made his excuses to the old minister and took Londenia aside.
The moment they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, behind the old ruined office, Londenia grabbed him, embracing him tightly. She desperately tried to take in his smell so she could remember it as a comfort in the hard times to come.
“Broken-Moon,” he told her, “do not let your people see you cry. You must be brave and lead as you were born to. King Hardol is here and soon you will be eating heartily on the Fair Blue Maiden.”
With a deep breath and a sly wipe of her eyes on his red cloak, she stepped back, holding her head up. “I wish you well and may you return home safely.”
Within minutes, her father and his party (over one hundred strong), were riding and walking off into the distance. Nearly all were guards from his own party but there were also some from the Wetlands and Last Kingdom. It was agreed that he would need the extra strength if he was to be taking on the dangers that destroyed the Watch Kingdom. In tow, was Romarus’s horde. Londenia’s father saw no need for them to continue on this journey and promised he would see them safe to Last Kingdom.
As her father’s small army marched back east, she turned to see King Hardol’s three large rowing boats approach from the west. These would take them to the Fair Blue Maiden, which floated proudly some four hundred footfalls from the coast. The carrack’s four giant sails were lowered. Its rear end faced the coast, it stood tall and square, towering out of the Bay of Blue. Lettering arced across its stern but Londenia couldn’t make out the words from this distance. The lettering glinted gold in the faint light of the broken moon.
A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes) Page 20