Guardians of the Kingdom

by Diana Flame

Footsteps sounded in the passage as well as the corridor outside the main. Outside the sound of soldiers marching, the loud crunching of feet could be heard.

  “Sire!” Catrain rushed to his side.

  “I am fine,” he winced. “Just indigestion.”

  While standing to his feet, the passage door opened and Rulf rushed through, followed by her father.

  “My king, we must leave here at once,” Rulf suggested. “The Ministers are all under guard and Cronus has ordered the execution of us all.”

  “That is ridiculous, I cannot abandon my people!” Syreus insisted, still gripping at his chest.

  Rulf rushed to his side as a loud bullhorn sounded across the Kingdom City. All eyes looked to the window, puzzled looks on their faces.

  “That’s the sound of the bullhorn whenever there is a decree,” Syreus remarked. “What is that minister up to now?”

  The bullhorn sounded again from the direction of the pavilion overlooking the palace bailey. The sound of footsteps running below alerted them that the soldiers were headed there. The bullhorn came a third time, which would mean that all residents of Kingdom City would be expected to meet at the main courtyard.

  Syreus moved to the main door, but Merek stepped in his path

  “I agree with Rulf, Sire,” Merek said. “Cronus’s men are this minute at the door ready to take you to your death.”

  Syreus glared at Merek. “You traitor … is this your doing?”

  “Not so, my lord,” Merek replied. “I am your true servant and I never did betray you.”

  “ENOUGH!”

  Syreus rushed to Merek, gripping him by the neck. Catrain grabbed the king’s hand and tried to pry them apart.

  “Tell me what you want,” King Syreus demanded. “What do you want. Have you come to destroy me and my kingdom?”

  “Quench the fire in the dragon’s eyes.”

  “What?” Syreus’ face became stricken, before his hands dropped to his sides.

  Merek repeated the words. Staggering back, Syreus’ hand came up to rest on his head. Catrain, more puzzled than anyone else wanted to know what was happening, but the pounding on the main door caused everyone to spring into action.

  “Come, sire,” Rulf urged. “We have sealed the door from the ministers’ hall. We have but little time before they break the main door down.”

  Syreus pointed to the bed. “There, the trapdoor is there.”

  At the moment Rulf moved to the bed, the announcement came through the bullhorn. “King Syreus has abandoned Cronada, he has abdicated his throne!” It was one of the ministers of the council.

  “What is he saying?” Syreus yelled.

  “Sire,” one of the guards approached. “Cronus’ men are closing in. They have orders to execute you!” The soldier moved to the door as the pounding increased. “You must get to safety and we will keep them at bay.”

  Merek and Rulf both shifted the bed from the center of the room, barring the main door with it. In the meantime, Catrain removed several weapons from the wall, including a sword, darts and a stiletto. While they were busy preparing to escape, Cronus was busy defacing the king’s good name.

  “The king has committed a crime worthy of exile!” the voice came through the bullhorn. “He has impregnated a nether woman and has now abandoned his throne for his dergabred daughter.”

  “If I get my hands on that minister, I’ll tear him apart,” Catrain shrieked. “Whom is he referring to as dergabred? I am not the king’s daughter!”

  The king patted her shoulder in a bid to keep her calm. She exhaled a steadying breath as her blood ran hot in her veins. That Cronus would feel of her hands, she swore.

  Rulf tore back the large rug on which the bed sat, revealing a wooden hatch in the floor. Then he stopped to give the king’s guards instructions.

  “As soon as we are through, you return the bed to its rightful place and escape through the passage. A few of the Minister’s soldiers are lying dead in the passage, take their raiment and make your escape. You must do it quickly!”

  “Yes, Sir Knight.”

  Night 1 of investigation … Petarian Palace

  Vinegar, salt, the juice from the granny fingers root and the blue blush gerenitite crystals was her weapon of choice. The gerenitite crystal was a brittle crystal formation found in in caves. Due to the crumbly nature of this crystal, it was generally considered worthless as it was unable to be made into jewelry or ornaments.

  With this colorless concoction, one could find any trace of potions and poisons used on anyone. She could even use it to test someone’s sweat and urine if needed.

  Taking a brush made from horse’s hair, Guinevere set to work. The downside was that she would need to make a new batch every night as the mixture only lasted for a few hours and then it turned dark blue, which would be of no use.

  On the first night of her investigation, Guinevere examined the cup in which Queen Zenevia’s tea was served. Using her solution, she discovered a reddish color residue remained inside the tea cup and a soup bowl, even after washing.

  The hala chambermaid was with the king as he’d promised and she was free to enter Queen Zenevia’s chamber. The king gave orders to allow Guinevere to pay her respects to the queen, this to allow her free entry for her work.

  Compassion for the queen who Guinevere thought was quite exquisite, brought tears to her eyes. When Guinevere entered the room, the lady weakly opened hers. Her frail figure lay unmoving on the silken sheets. The deep purple hue of her skin was a sign to Guinevere that she was indeed poisoned. Even though the queen was lying ill in bed, Guinevere paid her respects by curtsying.

  “I am Guinevere, King’s Syreus’ niece,” she spoke softly to the queen as she knelt at the bedside. “I am here to find the truth about your illness.”

  She saw that the woman found it difficult to speak. Inhaling deeply, Zenevia beckoned her close.

  “The physician … could not find …,” the queen paused for breath, her voice coming out in gasps. “How will you?”

  “Don’t worry, I am learned in the art of poisons and toxins.”

  The queen frowned. “Poison?” she breathed.

  “I believe so,” Guinevere replied. “My queen, the king is troubled you won’t see him. Please, allow him to visit you. He loves you so much.”

  “The king?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After the short conversation with the queen, it was obvious the lady was exhausted. Guinevere touched the queen’s forehead as she moaned softly. The woman’s skin was hot as sheens of sweat glistened on her forehead.

  Perfect, she thought. I will see what her sweat has to tell me. Upon applying the solution to the queen’s forehead, it didn’t take long until her skin changed color to a deep blush, mush deeper than the residue in the cup had been.

  Zenevia was asleep when she left the royal chamber and returned to her own room. Once there, she pulled out her father’s journals about poisons. She found one such concoction returned this color after using her solution. The poison was called the Rose of Secyinth. The odor was a subtle scent of rose petals, which made it very enticing to the nostrils. The poison was tasteless and could be added to any food or drink without detection.

  Guinevere imagined the queen smelling her tea and asking why it scented of roses. The response would be that they added the edible rose petals to her tea to sooth her senses and calm her stomach.

  The queen’s skin returned a deep blush because it was likely she’d ingested quite a large amount. Checking her notes from the time the queen became ill, she would say that she started ingesting the poison three weeks ago. Guinevere concluded that the amount the queen consumed was administered in small doses, which would make her ill and gradually become worse. Her death would eventually result when the amount in her body reached the fatal dosage.

  Scrutinizing her father’s many journals yielded no antidote. Apparently, he had not found the medicine to counter such a toxic tincture. His notes revealed th
at the poison was known as the secret elixir, which was used to murder many kings and queens. There was only one thing Guinevere could do and that was to bring justice for the queen.

  Leaving her room, she headed back to the kitchen, which prepared food for the queen only. While on her way, some scullery maids were seen fetching water from the well behind the kitchen.

  “It must be close to daylight,” Guinevere surmised.

  Moving quickly, she slipped inside the kitchen and removed all the utensils that were previously used to serve the queen. The maids would bring new ones once they find the old ones missing. She was out of the kitchen and salt back in her room before anyone saw her. With part one of her work conclude she relaxed and waited.

  * * *

  King Syreus stumbled forward on the dark tunnel beneath the city. Built many years ago for this very reason, he never thought he’d lived to see the day he would actually use it. In fact, he’d never been inside this underground passage until now. Rulf and Merek seemed to know the way well. He wasn’t surprised. Merek was the Phantom and Rulf the Fire. They must have searched for the secret tunnel in the event this very thing might occur. A few yards in, Rulf stopped to pull a sack from within a crevice in the wall. From it, he took a change of clothing.

  “Is this necessary?” Syreus asked as Rulf handed him a netherbred fitting.

  “They will be looking for the king, not farmers,” Rulf replied. He turned to Catrain, handing her a man’s garment. “Take this and try to hide that hair of yours.”

  The girls face lit up at the prospects of dressing like the men. What manner of woman is this, Syreus wondered. She is not feminine … yet she is. I don’t understand her.

  Trusting Merek was taking some effort, but what choice did he have? Would Merek do anything to harm his own daughter? The king saw the love between father and daughter and figured the ex-knight was perhaps repentant of his betrayal.

  So many things happened in the blink of an eye that Syreus was unable to fathom them all. Catrain may not be his daughter, but she certainly was greater than a daughter would have been. Her ability to pull the bow from the wall was the Keeper’s words materializing.

  “This shall remain upon the wall for your protection, my king,” Esmerelda had said. “The day of your downfall will also be the day of your greatest joy.”

  “Stop speaking in riddles, Esmerelda, and tell me what you mean,” he had impatiently replied.

  “You only need to know that this weapon can only be removed by the one it was meant to serve.”

  “For God’s sake, why would you put a sword which does not belong to me there?”

  She laughed lightly as she traced the stone with her finger. “It will protect you in the meantime. On the day it’s taken from the wall you will meet one of the four guardians of Cronada.”

  “Ha,” he’d laughed. “Who are these so called guardians you keep talking about?”

  “Time, my king,” she smiled, he voice ever so calm. “When all four guardians will meet in the same place, you will know who they are.”

  “At least give me some clue.”

  She nodded. “You know the one bearing this weapon will be that guardian’s strength.”

  “The bow, will be their specialty?”

  “Yes. Another will be of the sword, another of the of the stiletto and the final is the art of Marma Arti.”

  “What is the Marma Arti?” he asked, never having heard of such a weapon.

  “It’s not a weapon but a way of combat. This form of fighting emerged from another world and was given to us when Sachimi Yuri entered our world many centuries ago.”

  Tumbling through the tunnel, Syreus wondered who the other guardians were. Rulf and Merek were both superior swordsmen, which made him undecided about which of them was the second guardian. It must be one of them, he concluded. Then who was the Marma Arti expert?

  * * *

  Sometime earlier…

  “The rebels have infiltrated the barricades!”

  The announcement from one of the soldiers on duty to keep watch at one of the borders came amidst a battle between Cronus’ private army and those still loyal to the king.

  Word had travelled quickly that the king had relinquished his throne and quickly a divide ensued. The council of twenty was now split down the middle. He’d managed to convince ten of the twenty two council members about the king’s sins. He’d mistakenly assumed that the others would follow suit. Now, Cronus was having a difficult time explaining his evidence to seven of the other ministers.

  “This is not sufficient evidence Conus, and you know it,” one councilman named Manson remarked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cronus replied. “The king has broken the laws written by our ancestors.”

  “It’s a ridiculous law and you know it very well,” Manson countered.

  “Are you condoning this?” Cronus advanced in a menacing manner on the minister. “Don’t you recall the punishment for abetting lawbreakers?”

  Manson visible bristled. “Don’t be ridiculous Cronus. We are the lawmakers, but for God’s sake, this is the king we are talking about. Moreover, bedding a nether - what’s so bad about that?”

  “Arrest him.”

  One of the ministers standing with him chimed in. “Isn’t that a little extreme, Prime Minister?”

  Cronus whipped around to face him, his tone lowering, “Are you backing away from this now?”

  “No, my lord,” the man whispered. “I am just saying, arresting the ministers is a little overboard.”

  “Don’t interfere, or I will arrest you too.”

  The man backed away with a light bow. “Very well, Prime Minister.”

  Cronus turned back to the opposing group. “Didn’t you hear me? Arrest them,” he commanded the soldiers.

  “You cannot do this,” Manson said. “This is high treason!”

  “Shut up!”

  And so, the battle began between the two factions. Merek was battling with a soldier while Syreus dragged of his bastardy daughter. It took some time for Cronus to detangle himself from a group of ministers needing answers, so he could reach the passage. That’s when the idea struck him to get things in order.

  “Find him … search the entire palace and entire kingdom if you have to!” he’d quietly ordered his guards. “When you find them, execute them all!”

  But one of the ministers overheard him and shouted. “HALT!” Manson pointed at Cronus. “Arrest him, he has betrayed our king.”

  The soldier paid no heed to Manson’s calls for Cronus’ arrest. The guards pulled their weapons and trained them on all seven ministers.

  “You are either with me or against me, which is it?” Cronus asked.

  Manson stepped forward, but the sword of a guard pointed at his throat. He held his hand up and retreated.

  “At least show us some evidence of the king’s crime and not that nether roster you have been throwing around,” Manson said. “We want real proof.”

  “Very well,” Cronus replied, pulling a letter from inside his robe. “This will be proof enough.”

  “My dear King Syreus, I hope that one day you can forgive me. I have decided to go away with Merek the Cobbler. It is for the best. Love Zenaida.”

  The remaining ministers who were undecided about the king’s guilt now stood before him as a battle waged on the outside. He could hear the uproar as soldiers shouted at each other.

  “Are you sure this letter was from that nether?” Manson asked as he scanned its contents. “This letter is exceptionally written and the calligraphy is exquisite.”

  Cronus had to admit that he was surprised at the woman’s penmanship. When he’d told her to write the king a note telling him of her leaving him for the cobbler, he hadn’t expected her to do it. He’d expected her to scrawl a few letters since he’d threatened her. But the penmanship was exceptional. Not many noblites he knew could write that well.

  “I know,” he replied. “I have wondered about her, but ma
ny nethers are educated. They have schools in the townships and many noblites have volunteered to teach them.”

  “Yes, but the decree for nether education was passed only recently. This letter was written over two decades ago.”

  Cronus thought his plan was falling apart. He needed to make sure his proof was solid. A specialist in handwriting and the aging of papyrus was the solution. If he could convince these councilmen of the king’s crime it would make his job easier. Otherwise, he would have to do something drastic.

  “We will have the letter verified by one who analyzes paper.”

  The minister nodded. “Ha, yes. That will be best.”

  “If we prove that the king did commit this felony, will you support me?”

  The minister hesitated and Cronus thought that was not good. Would he have to have his fellow ministers imprisoned or worse? He needed their help in convincing the people that Syreus had broken the laws of the land. With this, he could add other crimes to the king’s list of deeds.

  “We will wait for the analysis before we decide,” the minister replied.

  Manson was afraid. Conus saw the terror in his eyes although the minister put on a brave face. The others standing behind him were also sore afraid. It seemed that they banded together to make Manson their spokesperson, after all he was also a deputy minister like Aldridge. Where was Aldridge?

  “The rebels have infiltrated the barricades!” the shout came from outside the hall.

  Cronus had bolted the door shut to keep the detractors out and the council members in. That way, he could make his case against Syreus. He now rushed to the window and looked at the goings-on in Kingdom City. Soldiers who had been facing off now ran towards the east, west, north and south.

  “What should we do now?” one from the group asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Cronus replied. “The soldiers are trained to take care of such matters.”

  Cronus left the hall to find the papyrus expert. He knew of one such man in the marketplace. The soldiers were given strict orders to guard the council members and not to allow anyone of them to leave the room. If they did not side with him, he would have to throw them in the lower dungeon.