Heart of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  The first time they stopped, Anna walked the camp, watching the soldiers setting up shelter for the guests. She came across Alric, observing some Weldwyn guards putting up a tent.

  "I see you're working hard," she commented.

  Alric turned to see her approach. "I don't understand," he said.

  "Don't you consider yourself a warrior?"

  "Of course," answered the young prince. "Both Alstan and I have been trained extensively in war-craft."

  "Gerald says that warriors should be able to look after themselves."

  "I'm a royal," said Alric. "I don't have to. I have men to put up my tent for me."

  "Is that how you inspire your men?" she teased.

  "I don't see you putting up a tent," he retorted, perhaps with more venom in his voice than he intended.

  "I'm too young," she replied, "they won't let me."

  "The advantage of your gender," he announced.

  A look of fury crossed the young princess's face before she turned to stomp off in the direction of the Mercerian tents.

  * * *

  Gerald pulled back on the rope, keeping it taut while someone pegged it down. "That's it," he encouraged, "nice and tight, we don't want it collapsing in a fair wind."

  The soldier tapped down the peg with a mallet and then moved to the other end of the tent. Gerald stretched his back, arching it and placing his hands on his hips. He straightened in time to see Tempus, who was watching him, start wagging his tail. It could only mean one thing, and he looked in the direction of the dog's gaze to see Anna approaching, followed closely by Beverly and Celia. He smiled as she drew close.

  "What brings you down here, Highness?"

  "Give me something to do, Gerald, I'm bored, and I want to help."

  "All right, grab that peg over there, and I'll pull this rope taut."

  Anna smiled, happy to be included. She picked up the peg and brought it over, looking to her bodyguards. Beverly grabbed a mallet, but Celia simply watched.

  "Is this work beneath you, Celia?" asked Beverly.

  "I'm a princess, and I'm doing this," added Anna.

  Celia grabbed another peg, bringing it over while Beverly smiled. "Welcome to the real world, Dame Celia."

  The progress toward the capital seemed slow, and it began to look to Alric like it would be winter by the time they arrived. They had been on the road a week, and he was chafing at the bit. He was tired of spending his days in the carriage and longed to ride away, avoiding her incessant attempts to talk to him. He had to admit she was much smarter than he had assumed, but her constant questions about everything were driving him to distraction. The sooner they could get to the capital, the sooner he would be shrift of her.

  Beverly woke in the middle of the night to the sound of distant fighting. She instinctively grabbed her sword, making her way toward the princess's tent. The two guards on the tent flap were alert, their weapons drawn as she stepped past them. She entered the tent to see the princess with her faithful dog pacing the space nervously.

  "What is it, Beverly?" she asked. "Tempus woke me, something's happening."

  "We are under attack, Highness. We must get you to safety, whoever is attacking is likely looking for you."

  "Where do we go?" she asked.

  "The command tent, it'll be the most heavily defended, but we must go quickly."

  They exited the tent with Anna's maid, Sophie dutifully following behind. Tempus stayed close, his nose sniffing the air as they went. The command tent was the main meeting place each night. As a larger, more ornate structure, it was used to house meals for the honoured guest. They entered to see Prince Alric along with Captain Brown and some of his men.

  "Highness, good to see you're safe," commented Alric. "We have the guards forming up around the tent."

  "Do we know who's attacking?" asked Anna.

  "We're not sure. It's still dark and very confusing at the moment," offered the captain.

  "Where's Gerald?" the princess enquired.

  "I'm here," he said, as he entered the tent, Sir Arnim in tow. "Fighting has erupted in the camp, it's all chaos at the moment."

  "Where, precisely, is the fighting?" asked Anna.

  "It seems to be coming from the paddock. I've sent Hayley and four knights to secure the mounts."

  "I'll dispatch more soldiers," offered Captain Brown. He gave the orders, and his men left, their swords drawn. The tent grew silent as the occupants strained to listen. The sounds drew closer, and everyone turned to face the tent flap, waiting to see what would happen.

  Beverly stood stiffly, expecting someone to burst through the entrance, but to her surprise a scream erupted beside her. She turned with horror to see Anna collapse to the ground as Captain Brown thrust a dagger into the princess’s stomach. Beverly's instincts kicked in, and she drove the point of her blade into the man's chest. The blade pierced his heart, protruding out his back. She let go of the weapon, instantly dropping to her knees beside the fallen princess, quickly examining her wound. Blood was pouring over the ground, and she placed her hands around the wound trying to stem the flow of blood. She felt hands on top of hers and looked to see Gerald, his face as pale as Anna's.

  "We have to get the blade out," he said, a look of determination on his face. "Get ready to cover the wound."

  She nodded her assent and Gerald pulled the blade free, absently tossing the weapon to the side. Beverly moved her hands in an attempt to prevent Anna's lifeblood from leaving her. Now Sophie was there, offering a kerchief to help. Beverly grabbed it, tried desperately to cover the hole, but her hands were now slick with blood as the pool on the ground grew larger.

  Alric watched in horror the scene before him. The princess would likely die, he thought, and it would mean war. The King of Merceria had sent his own child, and they had allowed her to be killed. He paled at the very thought and suddenly realized he was being selfish. This young girl, through no fault of her own, lay dying before him, and he had failed in his duty. Someone was screaming his name, and he broke his gaze to see the old man, Gerald, yelling at him.

  "Is there a healer nearby?" he was shouting.

  He was about to retort that he had not been called Highness but couldn't speak. He watched as Sir Arnim tore at the dead captain's cloak, passing a fragment to the lady knight who desperately tried to plug the wound.

  "No," he finally stammered, "the nearest Life Mage is in the capital."

  "Then go and get him!" ordered Gerald.

  Alric balked, "Who do you think you're addressing?" he retorted.

  "You, you little shit. Do you want to explain to the king how a Princess of Merceria died on your watch? For Saxnor's sake, go and get help!"

  Alric fled the tent, stunned and shamed by the man's words.

  Arnim applied a compress to the wound, but even so, the blood still flowed freely through his fingers, and he looked at Gerald, shaking his head.

  "It hurts so much," Anna said, through gritted teeth. "Gerald!"

  Gerald held her hand tightly as her body shuddered in pain. He recognized the voice of the ranger yelling outside just before she entered the tent, where she immediately absorbed the scene before her.

  "Hayley, check the dagger on the floor," Gerald commanded.

  The brunette stepped carefully past the group huddled around the princess, stooping to cautiously lift the weapon by the handle. She took it to a nearby lamp, examining the blade.

  "It doesn't look poisoned, as far as I can tell."

  "Thank Saxnor for small miracles," uttered Beverly. Tears were running freely down her face, and she struggled to get the words out.

  "It's bad," said Arnim. "If we can't stem the bleeding, we'll lose her. Without Revi here there's nothing we can do."

  "You're wrong," announced Gerald. "I've lost two families, I'll not lose Anna, too." He looked to Beverly, "Take her hand, Beverly, look after her, I'll be back soon."

  Beverly took the princess's hand, feeling the weak grip.

 
; He grabbed a lantern and paused at the door, "Hayley, with me, I'll need your help," then left, the ranger following.

  "Where's he going?" asked Arnim.

  "I don't know," confessed Beverly, "but if I know Gerald, he's got something up his sleeve."

  Alric ran from the tent, feeling real fear for the first time in his life. Struggling to suppress his terror, he stopped running and tried to get his bearings. The sound of fighting had subsided, and he recognized his brother, among a group of Weldwyn soldiers. He made his way toward him, trying to will himself into calmness. Alstan looked up at the approach of his brother, a look of shock on his face.

  "They were Royal Guards," he stammered out. "How could we be betrayed like this!"

  "It's worse," added Alric. "The princess has been attacked."

  Alstan stared back at him. "How bad?" he asked.

  "She was stabbed in the stomach, she likely won't see daybreak."

  "Who attacked her?"

  "Captain Brown. He's dead, killed by the bodyguard."

  The Crown Prince paled, "This is bad, Alric, if she dies, it could well ignite a war. By the Gods, even if she survives it could mean war."

  "What do we do?" asked Alric. He suddenly felt alone, as if the world was falling apart around him.

  It took only a moment for Alstan to make up his mind. "You're the fastest rider," he said. "Take five men, ride for the capital with all speed. You must get to the Dome and get help."

  "The Arcane Council Chambers?"

  "Yes." Alstan continued, "You have to find Arcanus Roxanne Fortuna, she's the most powerful healer in the realm. You must get her back here as fast as possible."

  "Will it be enough?" asked Alric. "It'll be days before we can get back."

  "It will have to be," said Alstan, "we have little choice. Now go, and may Malin's speed go with you."

  The dawn's early light began bleeding through the trees. They had managed to make the princess more comfortable, but she was dangerously pale. The blood still leaked from her wound but had slowed considerably. Gerald entered the tent, Hayley following behind. Prince Alstan was now in attendance though no other Westlanders were present. Gerald dropped to Anna's side.

  "Anna, stay with me. It's Gerald, I've brought warriors moss."

  He began packing the moss around the wound, Arnim moving his hands as it was applied.

  "Moss?" asked Prince Alstan. "Are you sure that's wise? It could kill her."

  "It's warriors moss," offered Hayley as she began to help apply the remedy. "It will absorb some of the blood and draw out any infection."

  "Will it heal her?" Alstan enquired.

  "No," the ranger replied, "but it'll buy us some time. How long before we get a healer, Highness?"

  "Likely a week or more. I've sent Alric with extra horses and men. They'll make good time, but I fear the distance is too great."

  The moss was carefully packed into the wound. Sophie had been cutting the dead captain's shirt up, and now she was using the material to bind the wound, keeping the moss in place. Tempus was lying with her, his massive head beside hers, a look of utter distress upon his face.

  "We can't move her till she stops bleeding," Gerald announced. "And even then, it'll likely be a few days before she can be moved any distance. Are we close to a small town or village?"

  "Kinsley is nearby," offered Alstan. "The baron has a manor house there, would that suffice?"

  "I should think so," replied Gerald, "but she needs to stabilize first."

  "Then it's in Malin's hands now," offered the prince.

  "Malin?" asked Hayley.

  "God of Wisdom," said Anna, through gritted teeth. "He's their primary God here in Westland."

  "Weldwyn," corrected Alstan.

  "Sorry, Weldwyn. I'm a little distracted here."

  Alstan looked to Beverly, "Why is it you call us Westland, anyway?"

  "It's a sign of contempt, really. You beat us hundreds of years ago. You've simply been the land to the west, not worthy of a proper name. It's the way of Saxnor."

  "The God of strength?" replied the prince. "He's one of our Gods too, but he's a minor God."

  "Now is not the time to debate our beliefs," stated Beverly. "The princess needs rest. With all due respect, Your Highness, I'm kicking you all out of here save for Gerald, Sophie and Tempus. Now go and pray to whatever God you like. Right now we need all the help we can muster."

  Twelve

  Ride like the Wind

  Summer 960 MC

  The road had been long and tiring, but finally, the walls of Summersgate, the capital of Weldwyn came into view. Alric's horse was spent, the poor beast having given its all, and now, after two very long days, he rode through the gate. He had switched horses at countryside inns; ridden hard and worn out a slew of mounts, leaving his escort far behind. He halted at the gate entrance, dropping to the ground.

  "Secure this mount," he said, "and call me another horse. I must get to the Dome as quickly as possible!"

  The guards sprang into action, and within moments a fresh horse was brought. Alric took a swig from a proffered wineskin and then climbed back into the saddle, ready to ride across the city and finally finish his mission. Quickly he rode, ignoring the hails as he passed. It was strange for a Prince of the Realm to be in such a hurry through the streets of the city, and the dust and dirt that covered him must have had the bystanders wondering what had happened.

  The Grand Edifice of the Arcane Wizards Council, more popularly known as 'The Dome', was an ancient structure, one of the first built when the great city was founded almost a thousand years ago. The architects had designed a towering structure in which the masters of the arcane practiced their craft. The great dome was encased in copper, proof against the ravages of wind and time. The wizards of the day had cast spells of enchantment to protect the copper, such that, unlike its contemporaries that had turned green with age, it shone as bright today as it did so long ago.

  He pulled back on the reins and halted at the great steps that led to its entrance. Taking them two at a time, he rushed upward. News of his arrival had somehow made it here ahead of him, and he saw a robed individual exit the building, heading toward him. As he drew closer, he recognized Arcanus Tyrell Caracticus, Grand Mage of the council.

  "Arcanus," stammered Alric, "there's been an attack on the Princess Anna of Merceria. We need a healer immediately."

  "Come with me," he said, without preamble. "We must go and find Roxanne as quickly as possible."

  Up the stairs they hurried, past the gilded doors into the building proper. Apprentices stared in disbelief as the young prince was guided through the marble-floored structure; never before had a royal entered the grand edifice.

  "I believe she's in the main council chamber," said the mage, "we'll look for her there."

  They ascended a staircase, and as they passed a robed man the mage spoke again, "Malson, have them saddle up two horses. We'll need them immediately."

  Not waiting to hear the quick reply in the affirmative, the wizard kept moving, Alric struggling to keep up. They came to a set of doors without handles or knobs of any sort, only runes were emblazoned upon them. The mage simply put his hand to the door, and the runes lit up with magical energy while the door opened to reveal the top floor directly beneath the great dome.

  To Alric's eyes, it appeared to be an immense library with shelves lining the walls and tables arranged alongside, many with open books upon them. In the middle of the room was a great circular table, directly beneath the centre of the Dome, and here he saw the Life Mage, picking gingerly at a plate of food while she flipped through the pages of a tome of some sort.

  "Roxanne," uttered the mage, "Prince Alric brings dire news, I'm afraid your skills will be needed."

  The woman looked up, her grey hair glowing in the light which streamed in through the windows. "What is it, Tyrell? What has happened?"

  It was Alric who spoke next. "Princess Anna, Arcanus. She was wounded two days ago. We ne
ed you."

  She immediately rose, forgetting her studies for the moment. "The Princess of Merceria? Where is she?"

  "Some distance, I'm afraid," Alric replied. "We must hurry, we may already be too late."

  "Horses are already being readied," offered the Grand Mage.

  "We shall leave immediately," she said. "I will just need to gather some things. Is Aegryth about?" This last question was directed to the Grand Mage.

  "Yes, I saw her in the chamber of magic. Shall I fetch her?"

  "Yes, we'll need her to enchant the horses to increase their stamina. We must make haste."

  Alric wasn't sure what exactly just happened, but both mages began giving orders to servants that appeared from every nook and cranny. Arcanus Roxanne left while Tyrell escorted Alric to a small table, along with a servant, who placed quill and ink before him.

  "You must pen a quick note to your father, the king, to let him know what has transpired."

  "Of course," agreed Alric, his mind whirling with the sudden activity.

  "The king will likely send a larger escort, but we haven't time to wait for it. You should be out of the city before the next bell tolls."

  Alric scribbled hastily, passing the note to a servant.

  "We shall see it's delivered, Highness," offered the mage. "Now, I'm afraid we must get you to the stables, you have more work to do today."

  The Grand Mage escorted Alric through the building toward the stables at the back, where the mages kept their mounts. A servant was already standing by with two horses, holding them by the reins. A rather non-descript woman was standing nearby and as they approached she began an incantation.

  "Don't be alarmed, Highness," said the mage, "Aegryth is about to banish your fatigue."

  "She can do that?" queried Alric.

  "Of course, Highness, she's an enchanter. But the spell will only work for a few hours. You will feel especially tired by the time it wears off. Roxanne will be able to help with that, through healing, but every spell has its price. You may find by the time you're done that you need to sleep for several days."