Candlewax

by C. Bailey Sims

  The Candlewax Wood lay just ahead. Even in daylight it was a magnificent sight. Thick tree trunks with old gnarled branches that reminded Catherine of huge apple trees had several smaller branches growing straight up with tiny flames at the tips. Profuse foliage the shape of olive leaves clustered on the branches below the tips. Whereas many of the forest trees were dropping leaves, the Candlewax Wood appeared to be evergreen.

  Catherine asked Menard about this.

  “No need to drop their leaves because they never freeze. It’s the oil inside, and the fact that the Wood stays fairly warm with all of those flames going all the time.”

  Catherine noticed with surprise that there were birds and squirrels in the Wood, just like in any other part of the forest. Every now and then there was a charred trunk of some other type of tree that had been burned as the Candlewax Wood had crept outward. Catherine noticed that Bessie was just as fascinated as she was, turning her head this way and that as they passed underneath the unusual canopy.

  “We’ll be riding through Ryeburg soon,” said Menard. “I wonder what the villagers will make of our little procession.”

  Cyril and two of his men cut around Pokos to take the lead. One of the men had unfurled a banner. It fluttered green and black and yellow in the breeze. With her eyesight still very keen from the fairrier cat fur in her boots, Catherine could make out a CK in red outlined in black at the center of the banner.

  Villagers came out of their houses and waved and smiled as they recognized King Cyril. A loud murmur went up when they saw the huge black-and-white fairrier cat behind them. Bessie waved regally and smiled as they passed through the village. Pokos moved with majestic dignity. He’s enjoying this. The sight made Catherine grin.

  “Looks like Spelopokos and the princess are turning heads, Kenneth,” said Menard. “You’d think they’d done this sort of thing before.” Menard, too, was smiling and nodding as they passed through the village.

  “How long before we get to the castle?” asked Catherine.

  “It’s just over the next hill,” answered Menard, waving at a pretty girl as he passed.

  Soon they reached the top of the hill, and all of Catherine’s thoughts were swept away by the view of Candlewax Castle.

  Menard looked over at her and chuckled. “Kind of makes an impression, don’t it?”

  She nodded and stared. In front of them was a sweeping expanse of farmland that gradually rose to meet the base of the Cinna Range. At the foot of the snow-capped peaks was a magnificent castle. To the left and right of it were more green copses of Candlewax Wood.

  Catherine counted seven high towers; some were linked by battlements. It might be bigger than Crystallia. The king’s pennants fluttered from the ramparts.

  “The original fortress was built by Rogard the Great centuries ago. You can just make it out. It’s that tall stone rectangle with the high narrow windows on the right. Very old. Rogard was a tough old king. He cleared out this spot within the Candlewax Wood for the castle crops.” Menard’s voice brimmed with pleasure. “They say hundreds of men chopped down the trees while they were still alight. Rogard, he worked right alongside his men. Very dangerous business, that. When a lit tree is cut down, the oily sap runs out all over the place and just a touch of flame will set it ablaze. That was before they used trodlik dust, o’ course.”

  “Where are the stables?” asked Catherine.

  “Right to the important things, eh, Kenneth?” Menard was amused. “They are within the sanctuary of the outer wall, protected from Kallik’s marauders or any beasts that might come down out of the mountains. The king asked me to quarter you there tonight. Wants me to show you around before the feast. Seems to think you have a talent for handling horses.”

  In spite of herself, Catherine felt a rush of satisfaction that the king had said those things about “Kenneth.” “I look forward to seeing them, Menard.”

  “As well you should, boy. Finest in all of Lackanay.” Menard urged his horse to a trot and Catherine followed, feeling oddly defensive. Crystallia had some very fine horses, too.

  A trumpet sounded from the tower near the drawbridge. The man with the king’s pennant waved it in answer to the call. The drawbridge reverberated with the sounds of hooves as they crossed over it. Catherine looked down into the wide gulf and saw that it had water at the bottom. Its strange rainbow-like surface swirled around in the light, making Catherine and Bessie stare.

  Cyril, Bessie, and Pokos had stopped. A groom took Ty’s reins, all the while keeping a wary eye on Pokos. Cyril gestured to Bessie to enter the castle. She flashed a panicked look over her shoulder at Catherine, who nodded in encouragement.

  “Over here, Kenneth. Let the groom take the horse while I show you around.” Menard had dismounted and passed the reins to a waiting groom. Catherine did the same.

  She ran to catch up with Menard, who was six paces ahead of her.

  “These horses on the right belong to the King’s Guard. On the left are brood mares and twenty of the king’s royal mounts, although everyone knows he always rides Ty, unless he fancies jumping. Then he will take Garadon.” Catherine tried not to show too much surprise. Twenty horses? Father has five and that’s more than enough. Everywhere grooms were working. Stable boys were cleaning the stalls and laying out fresh straw bedding.

  “We keep the horse armor in this room.” Menard swung open a heavy door. Inside were racks and racks of metal armor. She also noticed parade and tournament cloths that the horses would wear for important occasions. Like the pennants, they featured the Candlewax colors of green and yellow diamond shapes accented with black. The red CK was at the center of each panel in ornate letters. Next, Menard showed Catherine the tack room. There were rows and rows of saddles on racks and bridles, all neatly hung on the wall. The smell of leather and polish filled the air. Catherine noticed odd pipes coming out of the ceiling every so often.

  “There is a cistern above the stable,” said Menard with a glow of pride. “That is why the building is so solid. Water is heavy.”

  “That is wonderful. We should do that at Crystallia!”

  “One of King Cyril’s ideas. His father Cedric had it built fifteen years ago.”

  “But the king was surely just a boy fifteen years ago.”

  Menard laughed. “He was only seven years old when he thought of it. We had just had a bad fire.” Catherine added quickly. Seven and fifteen... the Candlewax king is twenty-two years old. She had thought as much.

  “Now for the groom’s quarters.” Catherine followed Menard, hardly listening to his patter, her thoughts suddenly fixated on Cyril. The image of his intense hazel eyes swam in her head and she could almost hear the strong timbre of his voice. He hated when the horses burned. He never wanted it to happen again. Even as a child of seven, he found a way to protect them.

  The grooms’ quarters had twenty beds. A fire burned cheerily within the substantial hearth. Catherine suddenly wondered what the quarters were like for the grooms of the Crystal Kingdom.

  “Now, you’d best get washed up for the feast. You’re expected to sit next to the princess to put her at ease.” Menard gestured at a pile of clothes that had been set out on a table. “‘Bout the right size, I think. I’ll show you the bathhouse on my way home.”

  “Bathhouse?” Catherine’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Probably already full of the King’s Guard. Come. My wife Tilda is expecting me at home and I don’t want to keep her waiting. Bring the clothes.”

  Catherine scooped up the pile of clothes and followed Menard. She looked right and left and desperately started to formulate excuses for not bathing. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say as they crossed the bailey.

  The bathhouse was a round stone structure with a thick, thatched roof. Smoke was coming out of a central chimney. Menard pulled the wooden door open and a cloud of steam billowed out. It was dark inside, as there were no windows. Oil lamps lined the walls. Catherine felt as if
she were being led to the gallows.

  Menard closed the door behind them. Catherine’s eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Seven bare-chested men were sitting in one large stone pool of water. Oh no! She recognized Seth and some of the wrestlers; William, the big redhead with the chipped tooth, and Conrad. The water was steaming hot, heated, it seemed, by oil fires under a maze of bronze tanks and pipes.

  William looked at Menard and Kenneth and slapped the water with his palm. “Come on in, Menard. The water is still hot. Kenneth looks as if he could use a wash, too.”

  “Smells like it anyway!” added Conrad with a guffaw.

  Menard grinned. “I can’t stay. Tilda will be wanting me home.” Some of the men exchanged knowing glances, but no one risked a comment.

  “I... I... I’ve got to go and feed Spelopokos,” said Catherine. “It’s a messy job. I’ll return when he’s eaten.”

  “Seems like that cat can fend for himself, Kenneth. Come on in!” Conrad splashed water at her.

  “He’s expecting me and one doesn’t dare disappoint a fairrier cat. How much longer will you be here? I’ll try to hurry.” Catherine stepped backward toward the door.

  “Should be a bit longer. Trail dust doesn’t come off easy,” said William.

  “Right then.” Catherine ran for the door, tripping as she went. She pushed it open and breathed deeply. Menard was right behind her.

  “Forgot about that. Spelopokos has meat waiting for him. Just go round the back of the kitchen and the cooks will pass it to you. The king said to tell you that the cat is in the rocks by the south turret, inside the castle wall. I think he plans to stay inside tonight after all.”

  Menard pointed the way and left her to go to the kitchen door by herself as he headed home. Relieved, Catherine collected two heavy parcels from the cooks and made the laborious walk to the rocks by the south turret. Spelopokos was lying on a huge slab of stone, basking in the late afternoon sunlight. He sniffed the air as she approached.

  “Before you know it they’ll have you cleaning stalls,” he said.

  “If I were a stable boy, I could do a lot worse than working here. You should see the stables!” Catherine put down the heavy packages of meat. “I could do without seeing some other things though,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Somehow I don’t think they’ll give me the tour.” Pokos shredded the first linen sack open and began to tear off hunks of meat with his sharp teeth. “Sheep. Haven’t had this in a while. I try to leave the shepherds alone. Nothing stirs up a hunt faster than a few missing sheep. Mmm.” He sniffed the other sack. “Goat, too. I could learn to like it here.”

  Catherine sat beside him on the rock, biding her time. She wanted to wait at least an hour before returning to the bathhouse. Spelopokos ate with great relish. Half an hour later the meat was gone.

  “When do we leave?” asked Catherine, yawning. She absently picked a tiny flower from the rock’s moss, admiring its perfect symmetry.

  “After the feast when all have retired to bed. After the second bell. I will wait for you where the mountain stream comes through the grate behind Rogard’s old fortress. There is a hole where it is rusted away. We can get out there.”

  “How long will it take to reach Cinna Gate?”

  “We should be there by sunrise.” Pokos’s voice had a tone of hope in it that Catherine had not heard before. Impulsively she put her arms around the huge cat and hugged him. He let out a tiny growl, but she could tell he was pleased. She leaned back against him and watched the sunset.

  “Pokos. Tell me more about my grandmother. How did she chase Kallik away?”

  There was a tense silence, and for a moment Catherine thought he might not answer her. Then he sighed. “Yes. It is time you learned how she regained her throne.”

  Pokos’s golden eyes flashed angrily as he thought back to Kallik’s attack on Catherine’s grandmother and her husband, King Edward of Crystallia. “For the first three days after the ambush in the Tannen Pass, Queen Catherine lay still, unwakeable. One of the rocks Kallik’s men had hurled down must have grazed her head. We were well hidden. I had dragged her to a narrow canyon near the ambush site. There was a small spring, but I grew quite hungry while I waited for her to awaken. I didn’t dare leave her to hunt.

  “One evening, I noticed that the glow around her had weakened. The danger was passing and your grandmother was getting stronger. And although generations had come and gone with no direct contact between the heiress of the Ancient Onyxes and the fairrier cats of Lackanay, when she woke she was not afraid of me. Her grandmother had already told her about the pendant.”

  “It’s so unfair, Pokos,” Princess Catherine complained. “Everyone else knew about the amulet but me!” Pokos turned to give her a stern stare and she shrugged defiantly.

  “Those were sad times. She wept often for her husband. Her spirit was shaken. I couldn’t bear to see her like that. The villagers tended her while I spied on Kallik in Crystallia.

  “The people of Crystallia were tainted with the lies Kallik had sown. They prepared for war with Tabrek. When I reported this to the queen I was surprised by her calmness. Something had changed—she had mastered her grief. Then I discovered why. She told me that she was going to have Edward’s child. Not only was she the rightful queen of Crystallia, but also her child—your father—would one day be its rightful ruler. She had decided to fight for her kingdom.”

  Pokos paused and stretched out his paws, extending his claws and raking the lichen-encrusted rock in front of him. Catherine reflected back to her own comfortable life as a princess of Crystallia and for the first time realized how different that could have been had her grandmother failed. In fact, she might never have been born. Would Mother have married Father? Would they have even met?

  “What did she do, Pokos?”

  “She sent a message to her uncle Osrek, a minor lord of Krenaka and a member of the ruling council of Tabrek. She told him she was with child and all that had happened that horrible day in the Tannen Pass. As proof of her word she made an imprint of the crest on the dagger Edward had given her as a wedding present—the same dagger you now carry. The messenger showed Osrek the imprint.

  “Osrek sent for Catherine at once. He promised her refuge from Kallik. She was to come at night to his house in Krenaka, a place where she had played many times as a young girl. I brought her there. Fat little Osrek was very surprised to see me. I thought it was just because he was afraid.

  “He took us by night to a cave in the side of Mt. Krenaka that was known only to a few local people. I sensed treachery. Osrek was nervous. He began to smell bad. When he beckoned for us to enter the cave I could see Catherine’s bright glow all around us. I carried her away as quickly as I could, climbing high up the mountaintop where no horse or man could follow.

  “We later found out that Osrek had warned Kallik about Catherine’s escape from the ambush in return for crystals. He had told no one else that Catherine was alive. The cave was a trap. Catherine decided she could entrust her life to no one but me. Despite the fact that she and her unborn son had to live as vagabonds.” Pokos slowly licked his shoulder.

  “But what happened?” Princess Catherine demanded. Of course they kept it all from me. Telling me would have meant telling me about Spelopokos, about the Ancient Onyxes, about my destiny...

  “The most important thing we could achieve at that time was to stop the war that was brewing between Tabrek and Crystallia and to show Kallik for the liar and murderer he was,” Pokos said between licks. “The people of Crystallia had to know that their queen was alive. We needed help.”

  “But I thought you couldn’t trust anyone.”

  “No man could be trusted, no. But there was one I knew would not fail us—Nepozadan, my brother. I called to him every night until finally he answered. Together we fought Kallik’s men, leaving our prints everywhere. Catherine nailed up parchments about Kallik’s treachery at every town and village of Crystallia. Each message carrie
d the impress of the Crystallian crest—from Catherine’s dagger bolster. The kingdom was thrown into confusion.

  “Kallik was furious. Without a war with Tabrek he could not dominate both Tabrek and Crystallia. He needed the bloodshed. So he put a bounty on our heads—mine and Nepozadan’s. He still claimed that Catherine was dead. All the while Kallik’s men were looking for the missing queen, hoping to kill her before she could gather a following. It was during this time that Catherine gave birth to your father. While I protected Catherine and her son, Nepozadan continued to terrorize Kallik.

  “One night, Nepozadan saw a large party of armed men leave Crystallia, headed for the village of Gant. They were dressed in Tabrekian clothing. When they reached Gant the men drew their weapons to ambush the innocent villagers. Nepozadan woke the whole village with fairrier cat screams.

  “The men of Gant spotted the attackers and took up their weapons. Nepozadan circled behind Kallik’s men. He slew dozens of them that night. Come morning, the men of Gant recognized Kallik’s soldiers among the dead and wounded. They had seen the fairrier cat fighting at their sides. Now they believed all of Catherine’s messages. Everything changed after that. Word swept through the kingdom.”

  “So that is why there is a carved stone fairrier cat in Gant! It’s a statue of Nepozadan!”

  Pokos raised his head with a satisfied look and said nothing for a moment.

  “Not long after that, the remainder of the Crystal king’s loyal men, led by Sir Gavin’s father, turned on Kallik and routed him and his mercenaries. Catherine was reinstated as queen of Crystallia while Kallik fled to Tabrek with a vast treasure of stolen crystals. Osrek swayed the council of lords with Kallik’s payments. It was a dark day for Tabrek.”

  “But Pokos! Tabrek used to be such a good place! How could it have changed so?”

  “A few good men remain. They fight against Kallik secretly, but no one dares to openly question him now. He has grown strong under my brother’s skin.” Pokos’s eyes were a fierce gold. Suddenly the great fairrier cat jumped to his feet, startling Catherine.