Six Heads One Crown (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 3)

by Jason Paul Rice

  Gamelda tried to make him feel better by saying, “I told you he used queer weapons and had a fighting style you had never seen before. Now that you’ve seen his attack, you will never lose to a Histoman warrior again.”

  The Man understood that Gamelda had saved his life in the duel, but now his men knew that Gamelda dabbled in the spirit world. The Man knew that the inevitable rumors had been going around about Gamelda’s powers. Most men didn’t understand magic and felt it was an instrument of the demons. People called it black or dark magic. The Man had become extremely depressed since the duel. The fact that he had needed help from an outside source really irked him. He had never come close to losing a one-on-one battle, but his opponent had almost defeated him easily. The respect of his men was of utmost importance to him. He could barely look anyone in the eyes anymore. The Man had never been embarrassed about his skills before and had trouble dealing with the emotion. Closing the heavy book caused sharp pain to shoot up his hands all the way to his shoulders. He got up and went to a meeting with his war council without saying goodbye to Gamelda.

  There weren’t any real matters to discuss and everyone was antsy to leave. A small group of veteran warriors had forged ahead to blaze the trail for the rest of the men. The majority of the remaining men were stationed near the northern gates, waiting to leave.

  Tucker announced, “My king, I have some good news and bad news. I’ll start with the bad. All the riches we had stored in the mountain tunnel are gone. We assume the Wamhoffs found and stole the gold. Interestingly enough though, they returned the wooden fox and we checked the inside and the riches were still stuffed in there. It was sitting right outside the southern gates, so I had the men bring it inside and we will empty the fox deep into the night to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.”

  The Man wondered aloud, “Why would they return that gold? They would need it too.”

  Tucker said, “Maybe they couldn’t fit it all on their decimated fleet of floating timber. They picked the mountain tunnel clean without leaving a single gold round.”

  The Man’s mind raced as he said, “That gold might not have been essential for victory, but the path becomes more difficult with less resources.”

  Terry spoke up, “With all the men up north, we shouldn’t have any trouble unloading that wooden fox. Then we can bring the coin back and burn that ugly fox.” Terry laughed but no one joined him.

  The meeting ended and The Man asked Terry and Tucker to stay and invited Mad Dog, who was standing guard, to have a seat with them.

  The Man still only drank wine out of fear of the tainted water and poured goblets for the other men. He said, “We are going to leave tomorrow, men. I don’t care if my hands are raw meat by the time we reach the Capitol. We leave tomorrow. There will be much madness along the way and things will get rather hectic. I just want you to know I won’t forget all of you in the end. You will be taken care of as promised. And who knows, if the Gods have any mercy on their bastards, we’ll all make it to the King’s Castle no worse for wear.”

  Terry looked at The Man with a smile and said, “They haven’t had much mercy up to now, but maybe the tides will turn.”

  A-EMILIA

  The former queen felt like she was going to pass out again. The warm, thick air made it difficult to breathe. She had been sitting on top of the jewels inside the wooden fox for days. They had crafted hidden doors to stuff her in. She could only communicate in whispers with Ali-Samuel, who had been packed into the treasure fox too. He had instructed her to keep quiet or they were sure to be caught. Emilia could only see the faint glimmer of the precious jewels. She had been crammed into the fox two days ago and had already grown tired of the dwindling store of assorted dried meats and fruits. The thought of relieving herself hadn’t occurred until nature called and she realized that she could barely move. Her pants had absorbed most of the urine and she prayed it wouldn’t drip down through the money and expose them. The awful smells had become intensified in the stale air. She had thrown up several times already and felt the dreaded feeling again. She sipped on a skin of wine and impatiently waited to get out of this uncomfortable work of carpentry.

  She hadn’t heard any sounds outside for several hours. With winter rapidly approaching, there weren’t any buzzing bugs and the silence was spooky. Emilia hadn’t been able to sleep even though she lay flat out on top of the treasure. She would nod off occasionally but the rank smell and heavy air always woke her up. She had lost consciousness several times and thought she was about to die. The air holes that the carpenters had carved didn’t do much to help her.

  “Sam,” she called. No one answered. She said, “Sam, you awake?” Silence answered her.

  Why won’t he answer me? I know I never call him Sam, but I need to keep the words to a minimum. I know he can’t sleep in this thing either. He won’t even tell me to mind my tongue this time. I hope he hasn’t fallen short of air. If so, I am as good as dead.

  She didn’t hear anything until the creaking of wood sounded behind her, indicating someone was opening the exterior door of the fox. She could barely breathe in anticipation of who was waiting on the outside. Someone grabbed her feet and pulled the petite woman out of the fox. This better be Ali-Samuel or both of us are dead.

  She glided over the gold and jewels trying to make the least amount of sound possible. She felt hands on her hips, then ribs as the former queen landed on Elkridge soil. She staggered around to secure her footing and saw Ali-Samuel signaling to her to be quiet. He pulled his sword from a secret compartment on the wooden fox and pushed Emilia down. She crouched down and he hovered over her and surveyed the guard situation. The wooden fox sat about one hundred feet inside the main southern gate. The couple had to get to the southern gate, unhinge the latch and let the Histoman inside.

  Emilia couldn’t see anyone, but Ali-Samuel gripped her really hard above the elbow and dragged her toward the gate. She only saw three men at the main gate and they all had their backs turned. Ali-Samuel increased the speed and they arrived behind the guards quickly. One man didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword. The guards only wore layers of boiled leather, which proved no match for Ali-Samuel’s sword. He had little trouble defeating the other two men and ran for the lock.

  Emilia scurried behind as she saw Ali-Samuel struggling to get the latch high enough to unlock the gates. He shoved his shoulder under the lock and pushed up on the huge wooded latch but his height prevented his shoulder from getting it high enough. She heard yelling coming from behind them and turned to see thirty guards approaching from the top of the hill. She realized they didn’t have much time and even up on his toes, Ali-Samuel couldn’t unlock the door. The former queen knew they were about to die.

  She ran over and dove on the ground in front of Ali-Samuel. She wedged herself under his feet and he pushed down on the right side of her back, giving him the necessary height to push the lock up. She felt something crack and immense pain followed as Ali-Samuel quickly jumped off of her, grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her up to avoid being stomped on. The massive doors swung open and an entire army of screaming Histoman warriors began to pour in. They met a small amount of resistance on the way in and Emilia was caught right in the middle of everything.

  Ali-Samuel shoved her into Sir Ralph’s hands, who pushed through the oncoming horde to guide Emilia to one of the guard towers. They rushed up the steps of the abandoned tower and took refuge on the top level. There were several cutout squares for archers but Sir Ralph instructed her to stay away from them to avoid the unlikely chance of an arrow coming in. This was the first battle she had experienced. The grunting sounds of men in battle mixed with the sullen songs of hard metal and her ears stung as she heard the resulting screams of desperate, dying men.

  Sir Ralph moved to an opening and quickly turned and peeked out. Emilia saw a slight smile form on his profile. She decided to peer out for just a moment, and looked over Sir Ralph’s shoulder. Emilia stared at the Histoman
army destroying the enemy. Numerous large fires raged to show that her side heavily outnumbered the opponents. More Histoman were still pouring through the open gates and Emilia became confident of victory. She looked to the left and found Ali-Samuel and Ali-Steven fighting back to back. To their right, the Histoman warrior, Broken Leaf, was methodically killing over a dozen men who kept rushed up to him in a steady stream only to meet their doom. The sounds played havoc on her ears and the malodor started to affect her stomach, so she ducked back down to safety. She was also experiencing great pain and having trouble breathing. She lightly poked her ribs to gauge the severity of the injury.

  B-THE MAN

  A thumping shook the door of The Man’s quarters. He shouted, “Go away or I will kill you.”

  Thunder cracked just as the person tried to speak and The Man hoped that would make them go away. Another powerful pounding of wood precipitated The Man out of bed.

  He walked briskly to the door, muttering to himself, “We leave tomorrow, but it looks like someone wants to die today.” He swung open the heavy door and Tucker stood outside.

  Before The Man could say anything, Tucker spoke rapidly, “Southern gates, southern gates have been breached. We need your help. I need to tell everyone.” Tucker ran away and The Man went back inside, cussing under his breath.

  Suddenly, he realized that there was an opportunity to prove himself to the men. This would be the perfect situation.

  Gamelda casually said to him, “That is your call to death. I don’t want to know the fool who answers that call.”

  He returned, “This is more than likely just a small uprising that needs the boot of a king to squash it. This isn’t even a battle, I’m sure.”

  The Man with the Golden Sword wasn’t going to take the time to get fitted in armor so he put on a tight long sleeved leather vest and matching sparring pants.

  Gamelda warned him, “You should just fall on your sword right now, right here. Blind death will be just for a man who refuses to see.”

  The Man stopped for a moment and asked, “What does that even mean?”

  Gamelda shook her head and said, “You damn fool. I can see the future. You cannot. If you ignore my counsel, I will not save you again.”

  Lightning lit up the windows and an increasing rain battered the outside of the castle.

  “Come now, let’s go get our horses,” said The Man.

  She looked at him fondly and said pleadingly, “I’m not coming with you the same as I am not going to commit suicide. I cannot save you again. Save yourself. If this is just a small uprising, then stay here. Let your men take care of the small problem.”

  The Man knew he had to prove to himself that he was still worth a damn. He said, “The men need to see their leader in battle to keep the morale high. This is more for show than substance. Some hooligans probably snuck inside the gates and we need to go break some skulls. If you want to stay, fine, I’ll return shortly.”

  “Well, my king, it certainly was nice knowing you,” Gamelda said as she started to gather her belongings.

  The Man shook his head and yelled, “Stop with all this. Typical woman being dramatic, that’s all this is.”

  Gamelda stopped stuffing a shoulder bag and stared at him. “Typical stupid man. Going off to die in a silly battle.”

  The Man needed to leave but he asked his lover, “And where do you think you are going?”

  She smiled and said, “Wherever I please. I am a free woman with many friends in many places.”

  The Man tried to mock her, “What, your spirit friends?”

  She shook her head and responded, “No, my human friends. Intelligent ones that heed my advice.”

  The Man said, “This is pointless. You better be here when I get back.” He walked over and kissed her.

  Gamelda gazed at The Man with the Golden Sword as he left the room. His horse was waiting for him just outside the castle, and the stable boy handed him the reins. He jumped on and raced toward the southern gates despite the intense, throbbing pain in his hands. Who could have breached the gates? The Hosavarts are the only family that could pose a threat down there. We should be able to crush this in less than an hour.

  As The Man drew closer to the action, he realized the situation was much worse than he had anticipated. He arrived with about five hundred men and more behind them, but he knew this would be a tough battle. His overmatched fighters were being butchered by near naked barbarians. The Histoman were using their curved swords to carve up his honorable warriors. The Man started to circle around on his horse and stroke his long sword down on the unprotected Histoman. He kept looking for enemy cavalry as he sliced through the unsuspecting enemy. He could barely hold onto his sword and reins but he pressed on. The fires and flashes of lightning helped illuminate the scattered battlefield and The Man barely noticed that the rain had picked up. He tried to ignore the intense pain in the palms of his hands as the wounds reopened and soaked his gloves in blood.

  The Man eliminated about twenty-five opponents as he worked his way into the thicker part of the battle and toward the open southern gates. A sword blade dug into his horse’s front leg and The Man flew down onto his left shoulder. He dropped his sword, but a huge flash of lightning helped The Man locate his glinting golden sword immediately. He snatched it up by the grip and raised his head to a defendable level on the field. Throbbing agony now concentrated in his left shoulder as his arm hung listlessly at his side.

  A much older man in an open helm with a scar running across his whole face came at The Man and nicked his injured shoulder with the point of his blade. The Man countered with a stroke across the older man’s stomach and watched a spray of blood start from the right side and continue across his belly. A wide silver blade crashed into his golden resistance as someone jumped in to save the old man’s life. He looked up to see the person he had been waiting for. Ali-Samuel Wamhoff.

  Of course he gets me when I’m severely injured. Two furious swords tangled in the Elkridge night, a final telling of one man’s life; the other deemed right in the eyes of the Gods. The Man had forgotten how skilled Ali-Samuel was. His biggest advantages should have been his power and stamina, but both were nullified by his weakened state. Thunder cracked as the two men unleashed their best respective attacks only to accomplish nothing. The Man with the Golden Sword attempted a combination of sword strokes from low to high. Ali-Samuel parried the quick attack and went on the offensive. The Man liked to fight with both hands, but his left one was basically dead. As a result, his right arm had already gone numb. He pressed on as he felt like his sword could be knocked out of his aching hand at any moment. Each of the two men continued a supreme exhibition of swordsmanship without breaking the other’s defense. The Man could sense that Ali-Samuel was getting tired as his strokes weren’t delivering the same impact as earlier. The Man started to regather his strength as he looked around the battlefield.

  He always knew when the opponent was fighting an unwinnable battle. He knew that he was on the wrong side this time. He knew victory was unattainable. Now, he just wanted to get his revenge kill against Ali-Samuel Wamhoff, a former Battle Brother. He noticed that when one Histoman fell dead, two more ran up to take his place. Instead of winning the entire battle, he planned to kill Ali-Samuel and cut his way out through the southern gate. He thought about Gamelda and more power started to surge through his body. The Man relentlessly went after Ali-Samuel with a flurry of overhand strokes. He kept driving his opponent back until the Wamhoff man was on his knees. He kept up with the overhand strikes and planned two more swings and then a reversal of his wrists to sneak his blade in under his opponent’s sword.

  He went to flip his wrists when a sharp pain shot down his back and he dropped to both knees. He turned around and the old man with the facial scar stood there with a bloody blade and a rotten smile. He felt another driving pain in his chest and heard the distinct laugh of Ali-Samuel Wamhoff. He couldn’t see his former battle ally but he remembered that gu
ffaw from when they had slaughtered the men of Goldenfield together. The Man’s collapsed face down in the cold mud.

  I was going to be the King of Donegal. What about all the prophesies? Gamelda. Why didn’t I listen to Gamelda? Why didn’t she come and save me? Her bastard king. I was going to be the first bastard king. I was supposed to be king. Ali-Samuel was supposed to leave. Now my brother in arms stabs me when my head is turned. There is no honor anymore.

  The last words he heard were, “It’s quite a shame when someone cheats in single combat, is it not?”

  He heard the laugh again as the cold blade entered again and the world disappeared for The Man with the Golden Sword. His attempt to usurp the throne of Donegal had ended with a final beat of the heart. Ali-Samuel pulled his blade out of King Ali-Stanley Wamhoff’s only remaining bastard son and rolled the body into a big fire. The body still clutched the golden sword with a blood dripping hand. The flames swirled around the cold gold blade until the angry fire cracked and a glowing pile of orange embers devoured the weapon and Torryn Beakman, who will be remembered as The Man with the Golden Sword.

  C-EMILIA

  The former queen looked over at the southern gates for a few moments and the Histoman were still pouring in. She looked back at Ali-Samuel and The Man with the Golden Sword. The Man had fallen on his face and she turned away as Ali-Samuel drove his mostly silver sword blade into the enemy and pulled it out, drenched in crimson. I knew he could defeat him in single combat. Now their leader is dead. That should end this slaughter.

  Her up-close view of the battle had been exhilarating. The killing became much more bearable as she realized her side was destined to win. More Histoman warriors kept filing in, screaming for some bloody action. She looked up to the stormy sky and saw a bright purple streak rush through the clouds. As she looked back down, she saw that the Histoman had the disorganized opposition surrounded from the north and the south. A smile crossed her face as the enemy started to drop to a knee and surrender.