by M. C. Elam
The wolf pushed her muzzle into Evan’s hand.
“Come inside and sit with me a bit. I promise not to keep you over long.”
***
Hawk slipped quietly into the palace. Evan's sweet perfume lingered in his head, and he knew he would spend tortured hours thinking about her before falling asleep. She was right to deny him. He should not press her so, but how he hungered to know her. As much as he admired her determination, he wanted to possess all of her. Lately, she seemed to show a spiritual reluctance that gave him pause. He tried not to think of her as a possession. He took too much for granted. Surely, she must know he loved her. Irritation replaced need. Maybe if he talked to Father and asked for a formal betrothal commitment, he might change her mind.
Closer examination of that idea frightened him. Convincing his father presented a monumental obstacle, and tonight the wall Evan built between them was one of birth. She had made points he could not deny. His royal blood, her common birth, he had to find a way to keep her with him. She seemed to inch further away every day. When he ruled, he wanted her beside him. He knew his father would discourage him and for all the reasons Evan stated tonight. But he was entitled, wasn’t he? He stalked down an empty corridor and turned a corner, but before he could gain the privacy of his rooms, Marcus Cailin caught him.
“Prince Hawk, the king be set on seeing you. Sent me to watch and bring you to him.”
“Ah, but Marcus, I stayed overlong at the hearth of a friend, and the hour grows late. Can it not wait until the morrow?”
Poor bastard, thought Hawk, to have such a mouth as that and live with it every day. The man looked like a bandit with that linen mask pulled over his nose. Heaven pity him. Hawk couldn’t help but think the same thing whenever they met. He knew the knight would be sorely offended. Marcus was the best of all of his father’s knights and deserved admiration not pity.
“Milord, those be my orders. He calls for you,” He knew Prince Hawk came from wee Evan. The cottage be sound enough, a good home in fact, but King Ian be off in his thinking when it come to sending her away. Clear of the palace meant no chaperone kept track of the goings on between those two. Didn’t take a mother’s fool to know they be keen on one another. Sending her on her way be a pure brain fart. Some days he sorely wished he had listened to Gram about staying in the cottage, but that feckin goat left her cripped-up so bad she had to use walking stick to get around. Not fit to be chasing after a wee girl. He sighed.
Sorry he be the day that fine old woman passed. Raised him up, she did, and she’d be giving him a clout did she know her wee Evan kept late hours with Prince Hawk. Right enough, too. He frowned on it himself, he did. By now he’d have found a proper suitor. Wedded and bedded with a husband to protect her, if he had marked her path. Too late now for what ifs and supposings. They be love struck and Prince Hawk an arrogant sort? Not the lads fault, of course. He learned his rightful path early. All that rowdy horseplay be no more than camouflage covering a lack of confidence.
Marcus gazed at the boy from his great height. Sworn to protect him, aye, he was by an oath to Ascalla, sworn to protect Evangeline as well, by an oath pledged to an old man and a wolf upon a rocky trail long years past. That oath meant as much or more to him. Beware, young rascal, he thought, I be her protector, plain and simple.
“Your father be waiting, Prince Hawk.”
“Aye, Marcus. I’m on my way.”
Hawk felt Marcus’s eyes boring into his back all the way down the corridor. Salty old badger. Never would he let up once his mind was set on something, but if Father wanted to see him, he must report. He wondered why the urgency. Maybe a reprimand for missing table tonight or was it more realm dealings. Lately, his father turned more and more duties regarding Ascalla’s politics over to him. His head grew thick with it, and he had no clear picture of how to handle most aspects. He knew his father ordered the transfer, and he knew why. The king swore to see Ascalla safely into his son’s hands before physical infirmity brought him low.
Hawk knew the malady that plagued King Ian acted slowly. Some days he seemed robust and strong as ever. Other days he could barely rise from his bed without the aid of three strong knights. On good days, he took to his horse, the smile on his face visible beneath a silvery beard. But despite a determined soul, his screaming joints made outings increasingly more rare. He grew a little worse over time and no one, including the prince, knew how much longer he could guide Ascalla.
Thoughts of being king terrified Hawk. He did not want his father to think him a coward, so he hid behind brash bravado. Not even Evangeline knew he feared taking the throne. He must have her beside him. If he could expect good counsel from anyone, it would be from her. She always told him the truth, even when it came in a package he did not want to open. How could he draw on her wisdom without admitting his fear? The whole matter spun round and round inside his head until it ached.
King Ian’s downward spiral pained Hawk. He could not imagine a world without his father’s hearty laughter, or think ahead to a day when that booming voice might disappear from the palace passageways. His father's robust song and the flurry of activity it produced put a mark of authenticity upon Hawk's world.
Alone in the corridor outside the king’s chamber he knocked. Silence—maybe the old king grew tired of waiting and retired. He rapped again, louder this time, and heard the rumble of a familiar voice calling him to enter. Hawk pushed the door open.
“Ah, Hawk, here you are at last. Come sit that we may talk,” said King Ian. “Keeping Evangeline up late again?” Behind his writing desk, he struggled to pen a document despite aching fingers that wanted to drop the quill and abandon the pursuit.
Hawk did not answer. He wondered why his father seemed to disapprove of the time he spent with Evan. That was but another change that had occurred over the past year. It made Hawk increasingly uncomfortable. He did not like to lie to his father. Lying did no good any way since Ian Hawkins managed to see through it. He didn't like making excuses to Evan about why he couldn’t go riding with her, or sup with her, or a hundred other things he could no longer fit into his schedule. She had never questioned his lack of attention. Until tonight, the ease with which she accepted his excuses surprised him. Now he understood. Everything she told him tonight made sense except for one primal fact. He loved her and cared nothing about her place in society.
“Hawk, did you hear me?”
“What? Oh, no Father, I didn’t. I’m afraid my mind drifted.”
King Ian gave him an exasperated sigh. “I have decided to arrange for you to undertake a course of training outside the realm,” he said. “I am penning a document right now for you to take with you. You will travel across the Outlands where you will meet an old friend of mine. His name is Griffin. He will escort you to your destination.”
“Please, Father.”
Ian raised one eyebrow and waved a hand dismissing any objection Hawk might present and went on. “Once there, you and Griffin’s son, Terill, will go about your training as a team.”
The king did not give him time to absorb any of the directives. Hawk was speechless. Leave Ascalla? He could not believe what he was hearing. Who was this Griffin? He had never heard the name before.
“Father, I don’t understand.”
“I did not provide an explanation,” Ian spoke matter-of-factly.
“But I,” Hawk began.
Ian Hawkins looked up from the document. “I know what you are thinking, my son, another method devised by the old man to torment you. You’ve had a hard year.”
“But, Father, out of Ascalla? Why?”
“You must experience some lessons first hand.”
“I don't understand.”
“You will one day. The place you go lies far across the Mountains of the Moon.”
Hawk watched his father set the Seal of Ascalla upon the document. He could protest, of course, but to what end. His father meant to send him whether or not he wanted to go.
“I will make my arrangements, Father. I can leave in a few days.”
“Your arrangements are complete, Hawk. You leave tonight, this very hour.”
“But I...”
“No one is to know where you have gone. I will announce that I have sent you on a mission,” said King Ian. He saw the unhappy look in his son's eyes and read it well. “I know you will miss her, but she must know nothing about your destination.”
“I can’t tell Evangeline goodbye?”
“I am afraid that would be unwise. Never tell anyone about the place you go, not now and not when you return. Keep your sword and your wits about you. You will need them. Tonight you leave Ascalla a boy. You shall return a man. Hold in your heart the love of your father and the pride of Ascalla. Those things will carry you through. Now, hurry. Father Wryth will escort you.”
“Father Wryth? I don’t understand. How can he cross the mountains?”
King Ian waved the questions aside. “Wryth knows the way. He has journeyed there before.” He struggled to his feet and extended his hand, a signal that ended their formal audience. Hawk knelt and touched his lips to the Ring of Ascalla. The cold stone floor bit his knees, and he rose to his father’s embrace.
“Go, my son. The trail awaits,” he handed over Griffin’s letter. “Be safe.”
“But, Father? I want only a few minutes to say goodbye to Evan. What can it hurt?”
“I will say your farewells, Hawk. Your time with Evangeline is over.”
The color growing in his cheeks, Hawk eyed his father. “Over, what do you mean, over? She is my friend. Father, I love Evan. I will wed her.”
“Son, this is perhaps the hardest lesson I must force upon you, but hear me well. You will not marry Evangeline. She is lowborn. Your wife must better Ascalla. Evangeline is common. She has no money or estate. You are destined for rule. She cannot be your wife.”
“No! I have done all that you ask of me, but not this. I will not abandon Evan.”
King Ian’s meaty fist grabbed Hawk by his shirtfront and pulled downward with more strength than he expected.
“You address your king, boy. Do not take an insolent tone with me. I will have you whipped. You will obey me in all things, especially in the matter of Evangeline. I was in error bringing her into the castle. For that, I take responsibility. I hoped to comfort a lonely little boy whose mother was dying. If she remained only your friend, I would say naught, but Ascallan law forbids the relationship you desire. Royal blood must remain pure. You will marry for the realm and by my command. I sent Lord Argus to Glynmora a week ago to negotiate. If talks go as planned, Princess Allison shall be the next Queen of Ascalla.”
His father’s decree struck like blows that crushed his spirit, and he thought of Evan. All she had told him tonight in her sweet, soft voice mirrored his father’s pronouncements. Everything had changed in seconds, no not seconds. He knew that now. The whole year King Ian created situation after situation that took her from him. She had tried to tell him before, but he brushed it aside, made light of it. She had recognized the truth. He never thought of bloodlines when he looked at her. Common? Not his Evan.
“Understand me,” Ian still clutched his son’s shirtfront and jerked the boy to his feet.
Hawk saw the grimace of pain that crossed the king’s brow and did not care.
“You are my son and I love you well.” He moved nearer the door, pushing Hawk ahead of him. “You must trust me to know the right path in this matter.” He opened the door. “Now go and be safe.” Just like that, the door slammed.
Fuming with indignation at the abrupt dismissal, Hawk glared at the closed door until his breathing slowed.
***
On a bench in the passageway, determined to block the loud voices coming from the king’s chamber, Father Wryth concentrated upon his prayer book. When Hawk appeared in the corridor, the book disappeared inside the folds of his robe; he stood and painted a pleasant expression on his face.
“Good evening, Prince Hawk.”
Hawk nodded toward the priest. Afraid to trust his voice and unsure what to say, he needed time to think.
“Shall we make ready? The smith delivered Peruseus from the stable. I will ride to the border of the Outlands and leave you in the company of your father's good friend, Griffin.”
Hawk looked up. His eyes bore stunned miscomprehension. “Who is this, Lord Griffin?”
“Griffin bears no such title, my son. In his land, no man stands higher than another.”
“Unlike Ascalla,” said Hawk. His manner screamed sarcasm.
The remark lost none of its intent, but Wryth feigned and continued. “He is a great warrior and head of his clan because his countrymen will it. Your father quested with Griffin in the place you will go. He protected your father as your father protected him. When the time of trial ended, Griffin returned to his land and your father to Ascalla, but between them was a promise to carry on the tradition.”
“Tradition?” said Hawk.
“Yes, tradition, King Ian and Griffin completed the same quest as their fathers before them and so on through the history of Ascalla. Each successive generation has promised to honor the journey you now face.”
“I don’t understand. What purpose do I serve?” said Hawk.
“When you enter the caves with Griffin’s son all will come clear.”
“Caves, what caves?”
“I can say no more, Prince Hawk. Only that I will pray for your safety until you return to Ascalla.”
Hawk followed the priest into the courtyard. The horses stood ready. He peered through the darkness, across the grounds toward the forest. He couldn’t leave without seeing Evangeline.
“There is something I must have with me, Father.”
Before the priest could protest, Hawk disappeared into the castle through the same side entrance. He hurried along the corridor to his rooms and, once inside, bolted the door. He did not think Father Wryth followed but wanted no one to see the gift he planned for Evangeline. No one would thwart the love he felt for her, not even a king. He touched the corner of his writing table applying pressure to a sequence of points along the decorative carving at the edge. A hidden drawer opened. From the drawer he retrieved a key and then crossed the room to a portrait of his mother that hung near the bed. The frame, encrusted with an intricate carving of grape leaves shimmered beneath carefully applied gold leaf. Near the bottom, between two of the carved leaves, was a tiny opening. Into that opening, Hawk fit the little key. A portion of the frame swung outward and revealed a box that rested on a narrow shelf. He removed the box and opened it. A strand of rare black pearls, perfect, flawless and identical in size, lay nestled in a coil of lustrous beauty. Hawk lifted the heavy strand from the box and held them up to the light. At first cool to the touch, they seemed to grow warmer when he held them.
Memories of his mother drifted like sweet dreams stored in the mind of a child. Illness plagued the young queen from the day of his birth, and the downward spiral continued until just after his seventh birthday. He could not remember her ever being outside or stirring from her rooms. Their best times together came on sunny mornings when someone, his nurse and later Granny Stone he supposed, would come to the playroom and lead him to her. Sometimes Evangeline accompanied him on visits to his mother, but mostly he went alone. She always sat in the same chair beside a window that looked across the green hills of Ascalla. He would go to her, crawl into her lap and wonder at the sweet smell of her perfume. She told him stories about the pearls he now held in his hands, romantic tales of brave princes who battled to free each pearl from inside a dark cave. She told him how one prince took the accumulated pearls to a faraway place where magical folk called gnomes made the necklace.
The tale of the gnomes was his favorite. He remembered now how the gnomes sent the young prince away with the necklace concealed in a pouch around his neck and warned him never to cross the water with the fisher folk. The prince made his way to the coast to book passage h
ome. Here he waited for days, but the only boat belonged to a family of fisher folk called dwarves. And so, because he longed for home, he broke his word to the gnomes. The dwarves seemed pleasant little men, and he soon forgot the warning until one night, mid crossing, he awoke to find a dagger at his throat and the pearl necklace gone. The little men cast him into the sea, all but one of them, the smallest, celebrated their good fortune.
While his brothers slept, the smallest dwarf seized the pearl necklace, leapt into the sea and began to swim. At sunrise, the far shore came into view. Not long after he trudged a shore. A ways up from the water he found the young prince and returned the necklace. The grateful prince wanted to reward the little dwarf and asked him to name something he desired. The little dwarf thought and thought. Finally, he spoke. “One request, dear prince,” he said. “Never judge a man’s worth by his stature.” The prince agreed and prepared to leave, but before he could go, the dwarf sent him to a mighty wizard.
The world lay on the brink of change. The followers of the new faith called the practice of magic evil. The young prince feared the wizard’s enchantments but trusted the dwarf and continued his journey. Another year passed, and times did change. The wizards of the land disappeared one by one. Some knew they hid under the guise of wise men. The prince knew as well, and before long, he sought the bearded old wise man of Baline, the one the dwarf called Melendarius. Melendarius took the strand of glorious beauty from the prince and bid him come back the next day. But the prince feared leaving behind the precious gift meant for his betrothed, and so Melendarius blinded him with magic so that he would not see the enchantment cast upon the pearls. When finished, the wise man restored the young man’s sight and handed back the strand of pearls. The prince thought the whole thing a joke. He saw no difference in the pearls and laughed at his own foolish fears. Despite the bravado, the prince was wrong. Melendarius had cast a special enchantment on a single pearl in the strand. The secret enchantment was his gift to Ascalla offered for the Earth Mother, Anutaya.