by N. C. Reed
The colonel led the way out of the room and to the left, walking directly toward Princess McLeod's rooms, his men following while Beals closed the door and remained to secure their way out. As they rounded the corner before their destination, two men in the garb of Royal Constables stood at attention outside the doorway. The two lawmen turned their attention to the soldiers but showed no undue alarm as they wore the garb of the Royal Family.
“We're here to escort the Princess to see her brother,” Callens informed them briskly. “She should be ready to go by now, correct?”
“Sir?” the lead guard showed his surprise. “I have no information about that, sir. No one has been here in the last hour with news.”
“She would have been informed before then,” Callens shook his head. “We need to move smartly. The Prince has other business tonight.” He moved to the door and knocked as if he had all the authority in the world to be there and do so.
A tall woman in identical uniform to the door guards opened the door, frowning.
“We're here to escort the Princess down,” Callens repeated. “Prince Memmnon says she'll be returned once the meeting is over, but did not specify how long that was to be.”
“We weren't advised,” the woman admitted. “I don't think Her Ladyship is prepared to go anywhere,” she added.
“That's her problem,” Callens replied gruffly. “No disrespect, but she was told he would see her this evening. That's all I know, but my orders are to escort her down. So ready or not, she goes.”
“Understood,” the woman nodded. “Wait here and I will go and get her.”
“Quickly as you can,” Callens nodded. “We're on a schedule.” The woman nodded again and moved to allow Callens and two of his men into the sitting chamber while she moved to the Princess' bedchamber.
“My Lady, there is an escort here for you,” the woman called. “You are to see your brother, they say.”
“Then he can come here!” the muffled reply came through the door. Callens resisted the urge to shake his head. Of course she would complicate things when so far the plan was working. He moved to the door, motioning for the female Constable to wait.
“Princess, our orders are to escort you out,” he said forcefully. “That is going to happen, My Lady. How is up to you. Please open the door. Now.” Please open the door you headstrong woman, he silently plead. His prayer was answered as the door was abruptly yanked open to reveal a red faced Sherron McLeod in all her fury.
“I told you I-” she cut herself off abruptly at seeing Callens. She looked at him, then to the men behind him, then back to him. His eyes begged her not to make a scene. Looking cowed, she nodded jerkily. She turned to gather a small satchel that she had kept prepared for her escape and then threw a coat over her dress.
“Fine,” she replied in a sulky tone. “I see that I'm to be treated no better than a common street walker.”
“We will not in any way be disrespectful of Her Ladyship, but we will carry out our orders,” Callens replied dutifully. “Please let us do this as gently as possible.”
“Very well,” she sighed dramatically. “Let us go.” Callens extended an arm and allowed the Princess to exit the room ahead of him, his two men falling into trail. Three others waited outside while the remainder stayed out of sight around the corner.
Sherron McLeod managed to maintain her routine until they were out of earshot before she turned to Callens and grinned.
“I knew you would not fail me,” she said simply, her voice breathy and soft.
“Indeed,” Callens replied stoically. “Let us make good our escape while there is no alarm,” he added. Sherron shook her head.
“Not yet. I must find out where Therron is being kept. The quickest way I know to do that is to force the information from my father.”
“My Lady,” Callens fought to conceal his alarm, but Sherron cut him off.
“No. I will not leave without it. We can stumble about looking or we can go to the source. I prefer to go to the source. Let’s go.” With that she led the way down the hallway to the stairs and Callens had no choice but to follow with his men.
*****
Memmnon had been anxious all evening. He of course had many reasons to be anxious with a crisis among his family, a war being waged and a father in ill health. Still those problems had been present for some time.
He decided to walk the walls to see if that would relieve his anxiety. It was something he did often of a morning time. Perhaps it would help this evening as well.
Leaving his offices, he made his way out to the stairway near the main gate and climbed to the top, followed by a single guard and an aide who maintained a respectful distance from the Crown Prince. His walks and moods were well known and his actions surprised no one. The guards nodded to him in passing but otherwise continued their watch. There was a war on, after all.
*****
Tammon McLeod let the book he'd been reading fall to his lap, rubbing his eyes. He was feeling better today than he had in some time. Well enough to try and catch up on what was happening. His son had visited earlier in the day when he was still sleeping so he had not had the chance to see Memmnon as yet. Feeling more lively than he had in some time, he decided to send for his son. He pulled the servant cord, and when his footman appeared asked him to summon Memmnon for him.
While he waited he decided to continue his reading but before he could his physician walked in for his nightly visit. Sighing in frustration, Tammon endured Smithe's poking and prodding with a minimum of fuss, hoping that would satisfy the man and get him out that much quicker.
Smithe was all but done when the two heard a commotion outside Tammon's door.
*****
The two guards at Tammon McLeod's door had proven capable and Callens regretted their death, but neither had gone easy. One of his own men was also dead and two others injured, one seriously. Sherron McLeod ignored that and barged into the king's apartments without a backward glance.
Smithe had just enough time to open his mouth in shock before the ornately jeweled dagger in her hands pierced his chest, perforating his left lung and striking his heart a glancing blow. In all likelihood the fussy man was dead when he hit the floor. Stepping over him as casually as if he were a log, Sherron entered her father's bedchamber.
*****
The footman decided to deliver the message himself. It was almost time for him to retire and a good walk might make it easier for him to sleep. With the king's declining health, the man faced his own imminent retirement as well. He would no longer live in the palace but would be relegated to housing in the city. Not that he would suffer. Tammon McLeod was generous to a fault with his servants, but the man would miss the amenities of the palace. He planned to make use of them as long as he could, especially the kitchen. Perhaps a snack before retiring. Once he'd located the Prince, of course.
It took longer than he'd imagined, going first to Memmnon's offices and then following the directions of the staff to the wall. There he finally managed to catch up to the young ruler and inform him of his father's wishes. That done, he decided he would head to the kitchen. Now that his work was done, he could get a light snack and then retire to his own chambers for the evening. Barring some unforeseen problem, he would not be needed again tonight.
Memmnon took a deep, cleansing breath of the chilled night air and then descended the stairs to attend to his father. There was no sense in putting it off, he figured.
*****
“What are you doing here, traitor?” Tammon demanded, some of his old spine showing even as he faced his own daughter with a bloody knife in her hand. “And you Callens,” he looked past her to the colonel. “I pegged you for many things, but treason was not among them.”
“Should it prosper, none dare call it treason,” Sherron answered for them both. “I have a proposition for you father,” she said harshly. “If you tell me where Therron is, I will kill you quickly. If you refuse, then I will kill you much more slowly. Now,�
�� she advanced slowly;
“Where. Is. My. Brother.”
*****
Behind her, Callens felt his axis tilt slightly. Killing the king had been no part of his plan. Nor had killing the Crown Prince for that matter. He had assumed that Therron would banish or exile the Crown Prince once he was on the throne, but. . .regicide was not something he'd considered even for a second.
It struck him as he listened to her speak that Sherron McLeod might not be well balanced.
*****
“Kill me then and be damned to you!” Tammon shot back. “I'm dead anyway, you wretched child. My heart simply doesn't recognize that yet. What is it you hope to gain by knowing where your snake of a twin is anyway? He's of no more use to you now.”
“On the contrary,” Sherron smiled nastily. “I've groomed Therron for years to take your place, old man. To rule from the seat of power the way a true king should rule. With all the power and authority of a true king, not some cowardly doddering old fool! The people will at long last have a king worthy of the name and worthy of following! Now where is he!” her voice raised as she spoke until she was almost yelling.
“I'll tell you nothing,” Tammon assured her. “Go ahead. Nothing you do to me can be worse than knowing that two of my own children have betrayed their family and their heritage,” he added sadly. “To think I ever doted on you, you shrewish wretch!” he all but snarled, showing the fire that he had demonstrated as a younger man. Sherron was momentarily taken aback by that.
“At least I still have two children worthy of the name,” Tammon added, wounding his daughter where it mattered most.
“So you value Parno above Therron and I?” Sherron asked, far too calmly for Callens' liking.
“I valued all of you until you proved yourself unworthy of that value,” Tammon shot back. “He, at least, is loyal, even when he needn't be. Unlike the two of you he puts the well being of this kingdom above his petty likes and dislikes.”
“And Therron will never rule Soulan,” Tammon couldn't help but add. “Memmnon will sit upon the throne whether you like it or not and Parno will see to it that he does!”
Sherron had heard enough. Screeching in rage she ran forward and plunged the dagger into Tammon McLeod's chest, a deep and deadly blow though not instantly fatal. As she knelt over him, seething, she could hear his breath rattling in his chest.
“Tell me where he is or I will find Memmnon tonight and kill him before I leave,” she threatened, and finally was rewarded with a glimmer of fear in her father's eyes. Not for himself, but for his son.
“You. . .you will do it. . .anyway,” he managed to gasp out.
“It's your only chance to save him, though,” she told him, eyes flat, absent any emotion. “If you don't tell me, I'll definitely kill him. If you do, maybe I won't. It's your only option.”
Tammon realized in his last minutes that his daughter was more than just disturbed, as he'd always thought of her. She was in fact insane. Criminally so, in fact. Perhaps Callens would make her heed her promise, but he didn't count on that. His one comfort as he made his decision was that Parno would make Sherron suffer for this before it was done.
“K. . .Key Ho. . .Horn,” he gasped out. “I exile. . .iled him to the Key Horn.”
“I should have known,” Sherron all but snarled. “Goodbye father,” she said, smiling suddenly. “Die knowing that you are a failure. You'll be forgotten, a faceless name on the roster of the dynasty.” With that she twisted the knife savagely in her father's chest, tearing into his failing heart muscle.
Tammon died still looking at his traitorous daughter, refusing to look away from her as he breathed his last. In fact, his last thought was that he hoped his image haunted her, if he himself could not return to do it.
And then he was gone.
Sherron was still for a moment as the import of what she'd done sank in. Standing slowly, she pulled her dagger from her father's chest, looking at it. Suddenly, to Callens' horror, she giggled. She whirled to find him and several of the others looking at her in shock.
“How did you expect this to end?” she demanded. “Come, Colonel. We know where Therron is. We mustn't waste any more time.” She was almost to the door when it opened, leaving her face to face with her brother and two other men.
*****
Nothing could have surprised Memmnon more than to see Sherron standing there. He froze for a second, caught completely by surprise. In that instant Callens' men struck, killing Memmnon's guard and his aide, surrounding the Prince.
“Brother dear,” Sherron all but snarled. “I really don't have time to deal with you the way I should, but allow me to tell you that father has, sadly, passed away,” she faked a sniffle and wiped an imaginary tear away from one eye. Memmnon stared at her and then to Callens.
“So you are a traitor, then,” he said evenly. “I had refused to believe it until now,” he added, and Callens felt that statement to his bones. But it was too late, now.
“He's no traitor, Memmnon,” Sherron shot back. “He's the most loyal soldier in the army! He just happens to be loyal to the rightful ruler of this land instead of you! Now I have to go, brother dear. Daddy was good enough to tell me where Therron is to try and save your life, miserable though it may be. I have to go and get him. But I do want to leave you with something,” she said, moving around behind him. Memmnon gasped as he felt the blade enter his back, slicing into his left kidney. He could feel the blade being pulled out again as he began to slip to the floor. Sherron bent to whisper to him.
“You will linger for some time, brother,” she promised. “But there's no one to come and see to you, is there? No one to care. And even if there is, Smithe is lying on the floor not far from you, dead already. So you see,” she stood, having wiped her dagger on Memmnon's jacket, “by the time Therron gets here, the kingdom will be in an upheaval, with the king and Crown Prince both dead and no leader to follow. He will restore order and then ensure that the Nor are driven from our lands, as always. Oh, and Parno will be dealt with as well, I assure you,” she added almost as an afterthought.
“Enjoy your failure, brother dear,” she called over her shoulder. “I have work to do.”
Callens looked down at Memmnon and a shadow crossed his face. Memmnon's look was one of pure contempt despite the pain he had to be in.
“Run, Colonel,” he said softly as blood burbled around his lips. “Run quickly and run far, but you cannot hide. Parno will find you. And unlike me, he will kill you and like as not enjoy doing it. She is insane, Callens,” he added. “And you have allowed her to lead you to your doom. Outrun it if you can, traitor.”
With that Memmnon lost consciousness, leaving a now highly disturbed Callens to follow the Princess out of the palace before any alarm could be raised. His shock had still not worn off by the time they were in the saddle and on their way to the rendezvous. This had gone out of control too quickly for him to follow, and now he and his men were accomplices in the murder of the king and his heir.
*****
A guilty conscious is a terrible thing. Tammon McLeod's footman considered himself an honorable and loyal man to his liege. He had served the king well for over thirty years. As he prepared for bed after visiting the kitchen, it gnawed at him that he had not checked in on his charge one last time before retiring for the evening. True, there were guards at the door, but. . .
He shook his head as he pulled his boots back on. A mere soldier would no more know what the king had need of than a horse. It wasn't that they were bad men for they were among the best in the kingdom, but they were fighting men, not personal servants. While warriors might look at men such as he with contempt, serving the king ably was just as important as carrying a sword.
He made his way through the silent hallways toward the king's apartments, taking no notice of the brief bustle of activity on the upper floor. There was always movement about these days, around the clock really with the war on and all. As he rounded the corner to the king's priv
ate rooms he drew up sharply.
The guards were prone on the floor, blood running along the marble. And between them, struggling to get to his feet. . . .
“Milord!” the man ran to where Crown Prince Memmnon was trying to move.
“King,” Memmnon said weakly. “Sherron killed him I fear. Check the king.” With that he fell back, exhausted.
“Alarm!” the man shouted, turning his head that his voice would carry. “To arms! Intruders! To Arms!” Hearing the call picked up he ducked into the King's chambers to see physician Smithe on the floor, clearly dead. Leaping across the still form he entered the king's bed chamber to see his liege lying, eyes still open, blood having soaked the bed clothes about him.
“No!” the man exclaimed as he rushed to the king's side. “My lord!” He shook the king, knowing all the time that it was useless. Nothing.
But the Crown Prince still lived. Taking the blanket from the king's bed he hurried back to the hallway, tearing the fabric as he went. Once back he searched Memmnon's unconscious form, finding the wound and using the first of the strips to try and staunch the flow of blood. He could hear the sound of running feet coming his way now and looked up in time to see two members of the Palace Guard coming down the hall.
“Get a doctor!” he called immediately. “The King and his physician are dead! And Prince Memmnon gravely wounded! He must have help at once!” One of the guards turned and ran back the opposite way while the other continued forward, stopping beside the servant.
“What happened?” he demanded as he knelt to lend assistance.
“The Prince said that Princess Sherron killed the king,” the man told him. “I found him and the others like this when I came to check on His Majesty before retiring. I . . . I checked on the king and found the Royal Physician in chambers, dead, and the king murdered in his own bed!” the man's voice was breaking now as the import of the situation began to hit him.