The queen paused by an ivory chess set frozen in mid-game. Perhaps she was looking at it the wrong way. Instead of an omen or a dire warning, the appearance of the lion could be an opportunity…an opportunity to change the future. Fingering her emerald necklace, she considered the possibilities. A plan began to form in her mind. Much would depend on the character of the young man from Coronth. The council meeting would be the perfect setting to plumb his past as well as the depth of his character. She liked that he’d escaped with his mother, despite the fact that the feeble woman could only have been a liability on the long trek from Balor. The presence of the mother indicated he had a good heart as well as being resourceful. Both qualities would be important for what she had in mind. Perhaps there was hope for her plan.
Her musings were interrupted by a knock. The Master Archivist entered the solar and bowed. “Your majesty, the council is assembled.”
“And the others?”
“Prince Stewart, Lord Duncan, Prince Justin, Princess Jemma and the court bard, Master Fallon, have all joined the council as per your instructions.”
“Very well, you may escort us to the council chambers.”
The Master Archivist fell in step with his queen, a black shadow beside the rustle of her silks. Never one for idle chatter, he held his silence. It was one of the many things she liked about him. As they approached the chamber, two royal guards leaped to open the doors. A herald announced. “All hail her royal majesty, the Rose Queen of Lanverness!”
As her counselors scrambled to rise, the queen swept into the chamber and took a seat upon the raised throne at the head of the large oak table. With a wave of her hand, she gave them permission to sit.
The Master Archivist took his customary seat at her right hand while her royal son, crown Prince Stewart, was seated on her left. The queen acknowledged her son and her counselors and then turned to address the contingent from Navarre. “Lord Duncan, Prince Justin, and Princess Jemma, we thank you for joining us on such short notice. No doubt you are wondering why this meeting has been called. It is our practice to hold a commoners’ audience once a fortnight so that we may hear the concerns of our people. A particularly interesting petitioner approached us this morning, a refugee from Coronth.”
Prince Justin leaned forward with a gleam in his eyes. Mildly amused by the young bard’s eagerness, the queen continued, “This refugee is of particular interest since he has experienced two different faces of the Flame God. The young man served in the Flame guard until the priests executed his father. Branded as the son of a heretic, he fled Coronth in fear for his life. We called this meeting so that all of you could hear his account first hand. We welcome your questions and insights in dealing with this young lion.” She gestured to the guard at the door. “Have the young man join us.”
Tall and gaunt, a young man wearing the tattered lion tabard of Coronth entered the council chambers. A guard announced, “Samson Springwater of Coronth.”
Approaching the council table, he stood with his shoulders slouched and his hands clasped, his nervous gaze darting around the chamber like a cornered rabbit. Judging him to be in his early twenties, the queen was pleased to note he had an ordinary face, the type that would not stand out in a crowd. Thin as a scarecrow, he would need food and time to recover, but he might be the perfect candidate for what she had in mind. Much would depend on his answers. Of necessity, her questions would be harsh. She intended to find out what he was truly made of.
In a regal voice, the queen said, “Welcome to our court. We hope your insights will help us to defend Lanverness against the religion of the Flame. Will you answer our questions?”
The young man made an awkward bow. “Your majesty, the farmers of Lanverness showed me and my mother nothing but kindness. I would not wish the cruelties of the Flame God on your people. I’m only a simple man, but I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”
The queen gestured towards a vacant chair at the foot of the table. “We thank you for your cooperation. Please be seated so that you may tell your tale in comfort.” The queen waited until the young man was seated. “You have come a long way and we would hear your story. You may start when you are ready.”
All eyes turned toward the young lion of Coronth. The refugee paled, struggling to regain his composure. His voice cracked at first but then he settled into the telling. He started with the death of his father in the Test of Faith and the murder of a sergeant in the Flame guard. He spoke in a monotone, as if the grim tale had happened to someone else. The queen and her counselors sat in silence, sifting every word. Hours later, he finished, finding sanctuary in an apple farmer’s barn at the edge of Lanverness. A hushed silence settled over the chamber.
The queen contemplated the tale, weighing every word. The story was simply told, but the motives beneath were missing. “We are curious as to how the Pontifax first came to power in Coronth. We have heard tales of his ascent from merchants, bards, and other travelers, but it might be insightful to hear the tale from the perspective of a citizen of Coronth.”
The young man’s eyes widened and his face blanched, her first question had caught him off-guard. “My memories are colored by childhood, but I will do the best I can.” In a faltering voice, he explained, “I was only a young boy when the Pontifax and the Keeper came to Balor, but I remember the first time the Pontifax walked through the Sacred Flames. Everyone talked about it. The Test of Faith was a miracle! No one had ever seen a miracle before. It was proof the Flame God existed, proof that the Pontifax stood high in the god’s favor. Even my parents were impressed. I remember them taking me to early gatherings of the faithful. My family was never very religious until the coming of the Flame God. The miracle of the Test of Faith was real, proof we could see with our own eyes. It changed everything.” Pausing, he added, “Everyone was caught up in the new religion. It seemed only natural to join the temple and worship the Flame God.”
The queen dug deeper. “And house Manfred, the rightful rulers of Coronth. What became of the king and his family?”
The young man had the grace to blush and look away. “You have to understand, everyone was caught up in the religion of the Flame. The Pontifax declared that the Flame God would not permit an infidel to sit on the throne. He challenged the king and his family to take the Test of Faith. When the king refused, the faithful attacked the royal palace. The city guard, already loyal to the Pontifax, did not interfere. The mob built a bonfire, thrusting the royals into the Flames.” Samson stared at the floor, his voice a dull monotone. “Perched on the shoulders of my father, I watched as the king shook off the hands of the crowd. He walked into the Flames with dignity. Instead of moving the crowd to pity, his bravery only enraged them. The mob tore the young princes from the arms of the queen, tossing the children into the Flames like rag dolls. The queen was quick to follow.” He shook his head as if trying to erase the memories. “I was only a child, but nightmares of the royal deaths plagued me for years.” Pausing, Samson added. “Once it was done, Coronth needed a ruler. I suppose it was only natural for the Pontifax to take the throne.” Samson stared at the queen as if begging forgiveness.
She gave him a cold, stony stare, her voice stern and unforgiving. “The Pontifax murdered a god-anointed king yet your people did not see the evil of the act.” She skewered him with her gaze. “The death of the king was only a foretaste of things to come. Why did you join the city guards?”
Samson grew deathly pale but he did not flinch from her gaze. “If truth be told, I never really thought about it. My father was a baker and I hated helping him in the shop. It seemed a dull, pointless life. I wanted adventure. I wanted a flashy uniform and a sword on my hip. Joining the guards was a way to escape the life of a baker.” His voice broke. “It was just a way to a better future, that’s all, just a better life.”
The queen twisted the verbal dagger. “So you joined the army of thugs, burning innocent citizens in the Flames.”
He burst from the chair. “I never
did that!” He shook his head in denial, his fists clenched. “Only volunteers work in the temple square. I never had the stomach for it. I always drew guard duty at one of the city gates. I never served in a Test of Faith.”
“So why did you flee Coronth?”
His voice shook with anguish. “They burnt my father and drove my mother near out of her mind.” His gaze darted around the table. “He was just a baker, an honest man who’d lived his whole life in Coronth. He paid his tithes to the temple and did devotions once a week. His only son was a sergeant in the city guards. If he had any fault, it was that he refused to attend the public gatherings for the Test of Faith…but that’s not reason enough to commit murder!” He swayed, his voice riddled with strain. “My father was an innocent man yet they murdered him in the Flames.” With a weary sigh, he added, “They murder us all in the Flames. If a family member fails the Test of Faith, then every member of that family is branded as a heretic. As heretics, the best we could hope for was to become outcasts in Coronth…or else join my father in the Flames. The only real choice was to flee.” He faced them with his palms open in entreaty, as if asking for understanding if not forgiveness.
Faint smears of blood marked his palms, cut by the crescent of his nails. The queen kept her face stern. Like a surgeon cutting rotten flesh from an open wound she probed deeper. “Do you think your father was the first innocent to die in the Flames?”
Samson’s face paled. “No.”
The queen sat back in her throne. “Why do you wear the lost lion of Coronth?”
Again he was caught off guard, puzzlement scrawled across his face. He stared at his tabard, as if he’d forgotten what symbol he wore. “I found it tucked away in the quartermaster’s stores, a bit of blue in a sea of bloody red. The blue caught my eye. Without thinking, I put it in the bottom of my rucksack. It was only later I realized what it was. When I made it to your court, it somehow seemed right to put it on.” Pausing, he added, “I suppose I wore it to remind people that Coronth was once a better, kinder place.” He stared at the queen. “Perhaps I hoped that the old Coronth could somehow be reborn from the ashes of the Flames, like the legends of the phoenix.”
The queen kept the smile from her face. It was the answer she’d been hoping for, but she still had one more question. In a kinder voice, she asked, “Why did you come to us?”
With a small smile, he said, “At last, an easy question. I came to Lanverness seeking sanctuary.” His voice deepened. “I came to your court to repay the farmers who helped us. I bring a warning, but I also pray the mighty queen of Lanverness will defeat the Flame God that has captured Coronth.”
“But does Coronth want to be free of the Flame God?”
Stunned, the young man reeled backwards. “Of course they do! Every week a new life is fed to the Flame God. The forests and fields are choked with refugees running from the priests. Coronth is awash with people who have turned against the Pontifax and his cruel god!”
Anger steeled her voice, “Coronth is awash with people running from the Flame. Are there any willing to stand against the Pontifax, to challenge his rule and change the kingdom for the better?”
He had no answer.
With a deliberate sigh, the queen explained. “Whether they know it or not, the people of Coronth made a choice to be ruled by the Flame God. By your own words, the evil is obvious. An innocent is brazenly murdered once a week in the town square. The evil is there for all to see yet no one sees, hears, or speaks of the evil among you and so it is allowed to grow. You are all conveniently blind, deaf, and dumb…until the unthinkable happens and injustice visits your own home. But by then it is too late.” She let her words sink in before continuing. “We will not risk Lanverness lives for people unwilling to help themselves. So we ask you again, do the people of Coronth truly want to be free of the Flame God?”
He stared at her, begging for pity, but she gave him none. In a weak voice, he answered, “Anyone who stands against the Flame God is marked for death in the Test of Faith. None dare speak out.”
“And therein lays the problem.” The queen threw down her challenge. “Change starts with one individual. Someone must make the first stand. It takes the most courage for the first to speak out, but without the first there will never be a second. People often underestimate the power of the individual. The first pebble to roll down the cliff is often the start of a landslide.”
He stared at her, a drowning man begging to be saved.
Looking past his open face, the queen saw an intelligence that had never been nurtured and a good heart that ached with pain, but she wondered if he had the courage to step forward. The silence lengthened.
Eventually, he rasped in a hoarse voice, “You want me to go back?”
She nodded, waiting for him to say more.
Fear filled his eyes. “Tell me, your majesty, does the first pebble ever survive the landslide?”
The queen knew about the need for sacrifices. It was part of being a ruler. She would not lie to him but she also needed to give him hope. Without hope, he had no chance of success and even less of surviving. “The risk is great, but with careful planning, we would hope to see the first pebble live.”
A desperate gratitude shown from his eyes. Bowing, he said in a hushed voice, “Though I fear it greatly, I will go back.” He looked down at the blue tabard, running a hand across the golden lion. “I suppose I chose this path when I plucked the lion tabard from the quartermaster’s stores.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “I will be the first pebble to roll down the mountain, may all the Lords of Light help me.”
The whole room began to breathe again.
In a gracious voice, the queen said, “Take heart, for you will not be alone. The best minds and the wealth of Lanverness will support you.” Smiling she added, “With your courage as an example, we are sure others will join in returning to Coronth.”
She waited to let her words take root.
He looked up, giving her a small smile of hope.
Nodding, the queen continued, “You have had a long and difficult journey. Master Fallon will help you to settle in your new quarters. When you are rested, we will plot your return. Let us hope that today is the first step towards freedom for the people of Coronth.” Rising, she added, “The council is dismissed. We thank you for your time.”
The queen watched as Master Fallon took the battered young man in hand, shepherding him out of the chamber. She’d found a single lion brave enough to roar in the face of the storm. Liandra would do her best to help him survive the coming maelstrom. She pitied him the trials ahead, but the people of Coronth badly needed a hero. She prayed one hero would be enough to start a landslide to smother the Flames.
44
Katherine
Tantalizing smells of roasting venison teased Kath to wakefulness. A loud growl from her stomach tipped the argument. Opening her eyes, she stared up at a sky crowded with clouds. The wind on her face was biting cold. The long autumn had finally succumbed to winter.
Warm within her bedroll, Kath took stock of the camp. Everyone was already up; the camp was a bustle of military efficiency. Kath sighed contentedly. It felt good to be back where she belonged.
“So you finally wake!” Tending the venison steaks, Sir Tyrone flashed her a broad smile. “Your timing is perfect, breakfast is nearly ready.” Removing a steak from the spit, he added, “Everything’s packed and the horses are saddled but we thought it best to let you sleep. We’ll set a faster pace if you’re rested.” Gesturing towards the roasting venison, the black knight added, “Your archer friend kindly donated a shank of deer for breakfast, so we’ll have a hearty meal before we start.” Giving her a wry smile, he added “But I have some bad news for you, my Lady.”
The smile on his face told Kath he was baiting her.
“On the long chase through the forest, one of the pack horses pulled up lame. We stripped the gear off the horse and left the animal to fend for itself.” After a dramatic pause, he added, �
�We had to abandon all of your fine dresses, lost in the wilds of Wyeth.”
She stared at his solemn face and then burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes, just what she needed to shake off the taint of the Dark Lord’s minions. Kath flashed him a brilliant smile. Sir Tyrone was good with his great sword but he was an even better traveling companion and true friend. She silently thanked Valin that she’d gotten to know the black knight.
Tossing a saddlebag at her, Sir Tyrone added, “One of the squires salvaged a fresh tunic, leggings, and cloak for you. You might want to change before breakfast.” Pointing to the end of her bedroll, he added, “And Sir Blaine has been carrying those around since we lost you at the roadhouse. He thought that you might want them back.”
Glancing down at the end of her bedroll, she saw her twin throwing axes in their tooled leather harness. With a whoop of triumph, she pounced on the axes. “Do you know how badly I’ve longed for these?”
The black knight smiled and waved her toward the woods. “Get yourself cleaned up. Breakfast is nearly ready. The captain will want to move out as soon as we’ve eaten.”
Gathering up the saddlebag and a skin of water, she ducked into the woods finding privacy behind a thick shrub. Shivering in the cold, she peeled off her soiled clothes, disgusted by the smell. She washed quickly, numb with cold by the time she pulled on a fresh tunic, but it felt good to be clean again. Strapping her throwing axes on her back and a sword at her waist, she made and sure her knife was safely tucked in her right boot before returning to the warmth of the campfire.
Her companions were already gathered for breakfast. She took a seat between Jorah and Sir Blaine. Sir Tyrone handed her a mug of hot tea and a plate loaded with a thick venison steak and a hardtack biscuit. Overcome with hunger, she dove into the meal without saying a word. She was working on her second steak when the cat-eyed archer turned to her and said, “Since you’re safe with your escort, I’ll be leaving after breakfast. I need to get back to my family.”
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 29