“How long of a journey is it?”
“Rumors say the journey is different for everyone. Some strangers come back never having found the monastery.” Leaning forward, the man whispered, “The mountains have a way of protecting their own.” Nodding sagely the man added, “If you’re supposed to find the monastery, then the monks will see that you get there.”
Curious, Duncan asked, “Do the monks have a temple or a chapel in town?”
The innkeeper laughed. “No. The monks aren’t like that, but you’ll find that out for yourself.”
Duncan mulled over the innkeeper’s answers. The man seemed as full of riddles as information. “What do the townspeople think about the monks and their monastery?”
A glint of amusement filled the innkeeper’s eyes. “The town wouldn’t be here without the monastery. Monks sit on the town council and their advice is always sound. Between the mountains and the monks we have a better life here than you flatlanders. You’ll be hard pressed to find a highlander who has ill to say about the Kiralynn Order.” Grinning, the man added, “Read the scroll and then see the stable master tomorrow. You might also want to purchase fur-lined jackets; the mountain weather can be tricky.” With a final nod, the innkeeper added, “I’ll bid you good night. S’pect I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”
Duncan stood at the bar, finishing his brandy, his mind churning with questions. Too restless for bed, he left the inn to roam the streets of Haven. The shops were closed but candlelight flickered from the windows of some of the houses. Walking down the dark street, his gaze was drawn to the night sky. Maybe it was a trick of the mountains, but it almost seemed as if a man could stretch his hand out and touch the very fabric of the heavens. Staring up into the night sky, Duncan wondered if he’d ever find what he was looking for. He’d spent enough of his life wandering. He reached up and touched the black patch covering his left eye, bitter memories flooding his mind. On impulse, he flipped the eye patch up and stared at the stars in silent challenge, wondering why the gods had seen fit to make him the way he was. The heavens looked the same, cold and indifferent. Tugging the patch back over his eye, he turned away. Thoughts of Kath intruded, though he had no right to think of her. She’d be better off with someone like Cardemir. Strange how the thought hurt like an arrow to the chest. He laughed but the sound was bitter. Turning his back on the stars, he returned to the inn. He’d wait to see what insights the mysterious monks had to offer…if any.
72
Liandra
Bloody and battered the royal courier bowed low before the queen. The messenger’s tabard was soiled, a hasty bandage on his left arm. Swaying on his feet, his face showed signs of strain. The mere sight of the bloody courier would ignite a blaze of rumors in her court. Despite the early hour, the Master Archivist had done well to bring him directly to her solar.
Liandra waved the courier toward the nearest chair. “You have our permission to sit.”
With a grateful look, the young man slumped into the armchair.
Behind the courier, the door opened to admit Prince Stewart. The prince bowed to the queen and then stood with the Master Archivist in the shadows. With her two advisors present, the queen was ready to unravel the bloody riddle. “You have served well but questions must be asked and answered. We will start with your name and your assigned post.”
The courier straightened. “My name is Donal Cleary, I’m assigned to carry messages between Pellanor and Kardiff.” He clutched a leather pouch embossed with the twin roses of Lanverness. “I was carrying the monthly dispatches from the Duke when it happened. I did my duty and rode on…though it was hard to leave the others behind, but the dispatches are safe.” He gave her a pleading look. “As a courier my first duty is to get the messages through.”
His answers raised alarm bells within the queen’s mind. Kardiff was the second largest city in Lanverness, which meant that the bloody incident occurred within the borders of her own kingdom. “Conveying the dispatches to safety is indeed the first duty of a royal courier. You have done well, but tell us, who would dare attack a royal messenger of the Rose Court?”
A look of horror washed across the young man’s face. “T-they wore red. They killed them all! It made no sense!”
The queen raised a hand, forestalling his panic. “Take a deep breath and start at the beginning. Tell us what happened.”
The young soldier nodded, struggling to gain control. “I took the main road between Kardiff and the capital, just as I always do. I was riding through Glenn Gorge when I caught up with a merchant and his family traveling to Pellanor.” Flushing, he stammered, “His two d-daughters were b-beautiful. I enjoyed their company, perhaps too much. I rode with them for a while, but I didn’t see the harm in it.” His voice broke and he paused for a moment to collect himself.
The queen waited in silence.
Taking a shaky breath, the courier continued, “We were almost through the gorge when it happened. They swarmed down from the forest brandishing swords and flaming torches. They attacked without warning…without reason! I reached for my sword to defend the women…but then I remembered my duty. Knowing that I had to get the dispatches to Pellanor, I disengaged from the fight. I took a sword cut to the arm, but somehow I got free. I urged my horse to a gallop and rode for the far end of the gorge. When I realized no one was following, I paused to look back.” The courier’s voice faltered, his eyes haunted. “I still can’t believe what I saw. They killed the whole family, even the women! And then they set fire to the wagon! If they were thieves, you’d think they’d have wanted the wagon, or at least the goods in it, but they didn’t seem to care! It was pure slaughter! It was madness. Part of me wanted to turn back, to fight the bastards, but my message pouch was full. I rode straight for Pellanor, not stopping for anything.” Staring at the queen with pain filled eyes, the young man said in a wavering voice, “I hope I did the right thing?”
In a regal voice, the queen replied, “Donal Cleary, you have honored your oath by faithfully fulfilling your duty as a courier. Do not doubt that you did the right thing. You have the thanks of the Rose Crown.”
Relief and gratitude passed in waves across the young man’s face. “Thank you, your majesty.”
“There is still the matter of justice. We need to determine the parties responsible for this vile act. Tell us what you remember about the attackers.”
“There were at least a dozen of them, some with flaming torches, others with swords. They were a rough lot, some in chain mail others in leathers, but now that I think about it, some of them wore red tabards but I don’t remember any device or emblem, just red, bloody red.”
From the side of the room, the Master Archivist asked, “Do you remember if they said or yelled anything when they attacked?”
Nodding thoughtfully, the courier replied, “Yes, now I remember. When they first came at us, they were yelling something about the Flame God.” The courier’s eyes flared wide. He stared at the Master Archivist. “I’ve heard the bards singing ballads about the evils of the Flame God…but I thought it was just a tavern song. Is the evil real? Could the attackers have come from Coronth?”
Regaining control of the conversation, the queen said, “The bards’ songs are indeed true, the evil of Coronth is very real, but this matter of Glenn Gorge must be carefully investigated before we reach any conclusions.” Pausing, the queen added, “Is there anything else you remember?”
“No, your majesty.”
“Then we charge you to not speak of this incident until we call on you to give testimony before our full council. It would not do to have rumors spread through the court. Are we understood?”
Bowing, the courier said, “Yes, your majesty. It shall be as you command.”
Nodding, the queen said, “You will be given lodging in the castle until you are called on to speak before the council. In the meantime, make sure your wounds are seen to.” Extending her hand, the queen said, “You are dismissed with our thanks.”
/> Bowing low, the awe-struck courier came forward and reverently kissed the queen’s ring. With a second bow, he left the chamber.
When the door closed, the Master Archivist was about to speak but the queen forestalled him with a wave of her hand. Turning instead to her royal son, Liandra said, “Prince Stewart, you are our military advisor, tell us what you think of the courier’s report.”
The prince stepped from of the shadows, anger in his voice. “The description sounds more like brigands than soldiers, but perhaps the army of Coronth is nothing more than rabble in surcoats. Either way, we cannot ignore the threat. You should send the Rose Squad to search the area and root out these brigands before they can cause more harm.”
It was a simple straightforward answer, the type of answer she was likely to get from her council, but the thinking behind it ignored the layers of politics and plots that were an integral part of the Rose Court. And worse yet, the answer did not consider the threat of the Red Horns. With a glance, she forestalled the Master Archivist from speaking. In a quiet voice, the queen asked, “Tell us, why should we send the Rose Squad?”
Without hesitating the prince replied, “This is a task for the army, not the constable force, and the best squad in the army is the Rose Squad. I humbly ask your permission to lead the Rose Squad to the Glenn Gorge to put an end to these brigands.”
The queen sighed inwardly; her royal son had much to learn. Turning to her shadowmaster, the queen said, “Please give us your advice on this matter.”
“Assuming the merchant was not much of a threat, the incident involved twelve swords against one. With such odds, I am surprised the attackers let the courier escape. One wonders if perhaps the courier was meant to survive.”
The queen nodded.
The master continued, “We are assuming that the leader of the Red Horns is a member of the royal council, therefore the man will be familiar with your royal concern with Coronth. A few red tabards and a scripted war cry could easily misdirect the court’s attention toward Coronth.”
The queen finished the analysis. “And thus we are duped into sending our most loyal squad of the army to the far corner of our kingdom, giving the Red Horns a free hand in the capital.”
The master said, “Just so.”
“What have your shadowmen learned about the plot of the Red Horns?”
“All too little. We’ve intercepted messages pertaining to the supposed plot of the Griffins. It is implied that since the Lord Bradshaw could not gain the throne by marriage, he instead seeks to gain it by stealth and treachery. Unfortunately my shadowmen have not been able to trace any of these messages back to their source.”
Prince Stewart erupted in anger. “Arrest Lord Bradshaw and put him to the question! Once we have the leader the others will quickly fall.”
In a pointed voice, the queen said, “That is precisely the problem. We do not know the identity of the Red Horns. The evidence pointing toward Lord Bradshaw is nothing more than a clumsy feint. We know Lord Bradshaw well. It is true he once sought our hand, but these days the old dear is more interested in his vineyards than in the Rose Throne. Nevertheless, we must play our part in this charade if we hope to catch the culprit who pulls the puppet strings of the Red Horns.”
Nodding, the master said, “Shall I have my men arrest Lord Bradshaw?”
“Yes, but make it a house arrest. The old dear would have a heart attack if you dragged him off to the dungeons.” In a musing voice, the queen added, “Yes, make it a house arrest, and do it discreetly. Of course, you will be sure to let word leak that Lord Bradshaw is being questioned regarding a possible plot against the throne.”
“It shall be done just as your majesty commands.”
“But what about the attack at Glenn Gorge?” The prince reeked of frustration.
Annoyance crept into the queen’s voice, “We are coming to that.” Turning back to the master, the queen said, “We have noticed that our servants in the Queen’s Tower are looking particularly fit these days. What is the status of our plan to replace the servants with loyal swords?”
“The head steward has been taken into our confidence and veterans have been seeded into the Queen’s Tower as well as the Throne Room. We’ve also hidden caches of weapons in strategic areas. Your majesty should be safe in those two sections of the castle, but we cannot do more without risking the attention of the Red Horns.”
“Then our defenses are set and we must play this charade to its end.” Turning toward the prince, the queen said, “News of the bloody courier will sweep through the castle despite our precautions. We must call a full meeting of the council to decide on a response. We expect the council to insist on sending the Rose Squad to investigate the incident. If our thinking is correct, this will play into the hands of the Red Horns. Nevertheless, if the council suggests it, we must agree, playing our part in the charade. We expect the Red Horns to show their hand once the Rose Squad is out of the way.”
Understanding finally dawned on the prince’s face.
The queen gaze drilled into her royal son. “You have a role to play in this charade. As the leader of the Rose Squad, you must play your part well. Lead your men to Glenn Gorge and look for these brigands, but be swift about it, and return with all possible speed. We may need your swords to thwart this threat.”
“But, I cannot leave…”
“You cannot stay.” The queen forestalled her son with a raised hand. “This charade is our best hope to unmask the traitors. Since we know of the intended trap, we will evade it. Meanwhile the game must be played till checkmate.”
“I like it not.” The prince glared with argument, but he bowed his head. “But it will be as you command.”
Nodding, the queen turned toward her shadowmaster. “Then the stage is set. Assemble the full council to deal with this attack on our royal courier. And let the final act of this dark game begin.”
73
Katherine
The clanging of the bell on the lead reindeer marked each step up the steep trail. Behind them, the town of Haven dwindled to a speck on the valley floor. Mountain peaks loomed overhead, shrouded in thick white mist. It seemed to Kath that the monks had built their monastery on the very edge of the world. She wondered if the remote exile was driven by fear or a deep desire for seclusion. Either way, the extreme remoteness only served to deepen the mystery. Gazing up at the mountains, she wondered what lay hidden behind the swirling mists. She hoped the final destination proved worthy of the journey. After Jordan’s close call in the pass, she was beginning to think the price might be too high, but they were too close to turn back now.
The eight companions hiked and sometimes climbed single file up the steep trail. The lead reindeer, burdened by an immense rack of antlers, followed behind on a rope, a bell marking each step. The two Navarren guards, Jacob and Thomas, had taken change of the reindeer, tugging on the reins. The other pack deer ranged freely at the back, trained to follow the clang of the leader’s bell.
Except for the tolling of the bell, they climbed in silence, struggling for each breath. Kath scrambled up a rocky outcrop, certain the horses would never have managed the trail. Looking back, she watched as the nimble reindeer scampered up the slope without breaking stride. She’d never imagined that reindeer could be trained as pack animals; she wondered what else she’d learn before this trip was over.
Duncan took the lead, setting a steady pace. Sir Cardemir shadowed the archer as if the two were in some type of competition. Kath liked the seahorse knight. He was good with a sword and a lute and she owed him a deep debt for saving her sword sister, but her gaze was always drawn to Duncan. The leather-clad archer seemed impervious to the challenges of the mountain, tackling the steep path with a confident stride. For the thousandth time she admired the breadth of his shoulders and his lithe grace, the man was certainly easy on the eyes.
“Daydreaming again?” Her sword sister caught up, giving Kath a knowing grin.
Caught staring, Kath fe
lt her face flame red. She shared a knowing look with Jordan and then they scrambled up the path. The others followed behind, doing their best to keep pace. They’d left Haven before first light, reaching the three-way fork in the trail by mid-morning. There were no markers at the fork, but the stable master had warned them to take the right hand trail. After the fork, the trail grew more difficult, the distances between the companions gradually increasing. Sir Tyrone lagged the farthest behind, struggling against the thin air. Kath kept an eye on him, asking for a rest whenever the black knight fell too far behind.
It was late afternoon by the time they crested the tree line. The trail leveled off into an alpine meadow, the first green shoots of spring pushing through the snow crust. Relieved to walk on flat land, the companions took the time to stretch their aching muscles, pausing to sip from the icy-cold stream before following the trail across the meadow.
Relying on the scroll for directions, Duncan led them across a mountain stream rimed by ice and around a rocky outcrop to a second meadow. At the far end of the meadow, the trail ended absurdly at a bright red pavilion. With a tiled roof and latticed walls, the hexagonal wooden structure seemed like an illusion. Kath gazed at the pavilion almost expecting it to shimmer and disappear.
Breaking the spell, Duncan said, “I think we’ve arrived. We’re supposed to wait at the pavilion until a guide comes to take us the rest of the way.” Surveying the companions, he added, “Kath and Sir Tyrone, why don’t the two of you investigate the pavilion while the rest of us get the packs off of the reindeer. According to the stable master, there’s supposed to be a stash of dried wood and a stone fireplace for cooking. We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait.” As an afterthought, Duncan added, “Kath see if there is some sort of a gong in the pavilion. We’re supposed to sound it to let the monks know we’ve arrived.”
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 45