by R A Oakes
“While you were at Firecrest Castle, did you happen to find out who Lord Ridgewood’s spies are here at Skybrook Castle?” Andrina asked.
“Just a few.”
“That will be enough,” the older warrior woman said. “We can find out from them who the others are.”
“What if they won’t talk?”
“Oh, they’ll talk,” Gwendylln said quietly.
“It might be like pulling teeth,” Andrina whispered.
The two warrior women looked at each other and smiled.
Now Chen spoke up. “We already know which ministers support Rathlor over Genevieve. Once we learn who Lord Ridgewood’s spies are, and also give false orders to General Zarkahn’s troops, we can virtually eliminate the opposition and capture all their leaders in a series of raids.”
“This is good for solidifying the power structure of Skybrook Castle,” Lord Pensgraft said. “But what are we going to do when Swarenth’s troops show up on our doorstep? We haven’t the strength to repel a major invasion. Gargoyles may be hairy, fat apes with useless wings, but they’re good at killing. They proved that years ago when they took Dominion Castle.”
“I’m not sure about the answer to that question,” Chen said.
Corson turned to Minister Rowkar and asked, “You
don’t have anything in your bag of tricks to take care of that problem, do you?”
Suddenly the wooden, double doors to the great hall swung open and Tarlen, Genevieve, Aerylln and Marcheto entered.
“I just might,” the Gray Fox said. “I just might.”
Tarlen walked up to Minister Rowkar and said, “Carp, I’ve asked this wonderful woman to marry me, and she has said yes.”
The portly minister was shocked that the rancher had called him by his nickname in public.
“Carplorthian, we want your permission to marry,” Genevieve said.
Minister Rowkar was again surprised to hear his true name being used to address him, but he recovered quickly.
“Is the cat out of the bag?” the Gray Fox asked.
“It’s more like the tiger is out of the bag,” Genevieve smiled.
Tarlen held out his hand, and Carplorthian saw that he was wearing King Ulray Kardimont’s large, gold tiger ring.
“Arandar, what does this mean?”
“It means we’re going home.”
“Home?”
“We’re going to retake Dominion Castle.”
“How do you propose to do that, Arandar?”
“Call me Tarlen.”
That got Lord Pensgraft’s and Chen’s attention, and they took a hard look at this rancher with the huge, gold ring. Both had heard the legend of Tarlen, the boy king.
“Tarlen told me how you’ve been like a father to him since King Ulray died. We want your permission to marry,” Genevieve said once more.
Carplorthian could hardly believe his ears. It was as if previously unspoken, sacred words were now filling the air.
“Carp?” King Tarlen prompted him. “Can we marry?”
“Yes,” the Gray Fox said. “Have you asked for Lord Stallington’s permission?”
“That’s where we’re going next,” Tarlen said.
“You might want to shave your beard off first. Your face will be your greatest asset to winning his permission. The Fighting Eagle knew King Ulray when they were both your age. Just try not to kill him from shock.”
“Why not shave it in front of Lord Stallington? That way he can see the transformation gradually,” Andrina suggested ever the strategist.
“After you’re clean-shaven, like your father always was, it might be good if you put on the Kardimont green tunic,” Carp said. “Did you think to bring one?”
“You mean this?” Genevieve said as she held up a package.
“Did you bring your crown?”
“Not the elaborate ceremonial one. I brought one that father sometimes wore on a daily basis.” Genevieve held up another wrapped package.
“Where are the men?”
“Are you kidding? Where do you think they are?”
“Outside the doorway?”
“That and lining the hallways and stairs all the way to Lord Stallington’s chambers. I tried to get the guys to tone things down a bit, but they’ve kind of been throwing themselves into the role of the King’s Personal Guard.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to see it to believe it.”
“What prompted you to go public, Tarlen?”
The king pointed at Aerylln. “White Angel!”
“White Angel?” Carplorthian asked in a hushed tone.
“Yes,” Tarlen said.
Carplorthian went down on one knee before the young woman. “We’ve been waiting for you for 15 years, my lady.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Aerylln smiled.
Lord Pensgraft and Chen looked at each other.
“White Angel?” her father asked.
“Oh, dad, it’s nothing. It’s happened before to other women who’ve inherited Baelfire.”
“Yes, but not for over 300 years,” the magic sword reminded her.
Chen walked up to Aerylln. “What’s going on here, sweetheart? Not long ago, you were frightened to face down a bunch of drunks by yourself. And now you intend to face down Swarenth?”
“I won’t do it alone. You’ll be with me.”
Chen looked doubtful.
“You haven’t seen what White Angel looks like,” Marcheto said. “Plus the Tiger of Dominion Castle has returned.”
“I can see the ring,” Chen said.
“No, I mean Tarlen turned into a tiger right in front of us. Just like his dad used to do,” Marcheto said.
“There are thousands of gargoyles at Dominion Castle, and they’re vicious, heartless, savage creatures,” Chen said reminding them all of the magnitude of the challenge they were intending to undertake.
“I’m hoping to rely on Black Scarlet for help,” Aerylln said. said.
“Of course I’ll do what I can,” the black leather panther “No, I mean you as a 15-foot-tall, fire-breathing, black crystal warrior on a huge stallion that’s snorting fire and smoke with its hoofs covered in flames. We could fight side by side as Black Scarlet and White Angel.”
“Aerylln, you saw what happened once before when I put on the Crystal Medallion while holding the dark sword, Crystal. Together, we formed the Trinity of Darkness. Do you want me to risk that again?”
“Maybe you could wear the medallion and wield the dark sword only at key times when we need Black Scarlet’s power the most.”
Chen changed the subject. Wearing a scarlet cape and threatening people with the possibility of transforming into a fire-breathing monster was one thing, but actually doing it again was something else altogether. “Let’s go visit the Fighting Eagle. He’ll think he’s seen a ghost if Tarlen looks like his father.”
“Oh, Tarlen looks just like King Ulray. They could have been twins,” Carplorthian said.
“Then this should prove interesting,” Chen said.
“It’s more than interesting,” Aerylln said. “Have you ever seen 124 members of the King’s Personal Guard in full- dress uniform and fully armed?”
“No one my age has seen that.”
“Well, look out in the hall,” Aerylln said.
Lord Pensgraft, Chen, Marcheto, Aerylln, Andrina, Gwendylln and Corson headed over towards the great hall’s entrance. Carplorthian hung back a bit with Tarlen and Genevieve.
“Are the men out there really dressed in full regalia?” Carp asked.
“Yes. Once we returned to the ranch after seeing White Angel, the men were pretty excited and dug out their old uniforms. I didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop.”
“I heard that you went out on a mission this morning. Of Lord Ridgewood’s men who were there, are any still alive?”
“No.”
“Who else saw you transform into a tiger?”
“Just a farmer, his
wife and their five kids, but they won’t say anything. They’re sort of indebted to Aerylln.”
“In what way?”
“That’s another story. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Before long, Swarenth’s going to learn that you’ve surfaced.”
“I suppose so, but he’s not going to make a move until he has some idea of what he’s up against.”
“Oh, I’ll be the one who’ll leak that information to him.”
“What?”
“Ambassador Valkira made me his spy here at Skybrook Castle. I have one of those gray tunics his apes wear, and I have a ring from Valkira’s own hand that has Swarenth’s crest on it.”
“I’ve always believed in you, Carp, and I always will. You’re nothing short of amazing.”
“All in a day’s work, sire.”
Walking out into the hallway, Tarlen saw his warriors were lining it on both sides and wearing the green Kardimont tunic with a tiger crest on the front.
“All hail the king!” Captain Polaris bellowed.
“King Tarlen! King Tarlen! King Tarlen!” they shouted almost delirious with joy.
“I wonder if anyone in the castle knows of your arrival?” Carplorthian teased.
“I guess a few might.”
King Tarlen, who was still dressed as a rancher, Genevieve, Carplorthian and Captain Polaris headed upstairs with their warriors following close behind. After a few minutes, they arrived at Lord Stallington’s chambers, and the king’s warriors, with their Kardimont uniforms, remained outside When Tarlen and Genevieve entered, they saw that Aerylln and the others were already there.
“Lord Pensgraft says you have something you want to ask me, Arandar,” the Fighting Eagle said, though the elderly ruler dreaded the coming question. He knew what it would be for it was obvious that the rancher and his daughter were in love.
With a sense of resignation, Lord Stallington was thinking, It’s the end of an era. First, we lost Dominion Castle, and now we’re going to lose Skybrook Castle as well. But what can I do? I can’t say no.
However, Lord Stallington decided to make Arandar fight for what he wanted.
“What does a common rancher want with my daughter?” the Fighting Eagle said with a hard edge to his voice.
“Father!” Genevieve said in surprise. “That’s no way to talk to your friend.”
“You call yourself my friend, Arandar, when you come in here and are prepared to ask me to forfeit my castle and all I’ve worked for over the last 40 years just so you can follow your heart?” the Fighting Eagle fumed.
“I’ve no right to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Arandar said.
“Then don’t! Think carefully, Arandar, can you provide for her? Can you enable her to live the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed? No, you can’t. So why don’t you just go back to your horses?”
“Father, this is outrageous! I won’t tolerate talk like this!” Genevieve said.
“It’s okay, Genevieve, he has a right to be angry,” the rancher said.
“He has no right to treat you this way,” Genevieve protested.
Lord Stallington plowed ahead with his accusations. “So this is how you repay me for allowing you to settle in this valley? You’d make my grandchildren a bunch of low-born mongrels?”
At that, Tarlen had heard enough. He stood his ground and fought back.
“I may be nothing but a rancher, but I’m a good one. I’ll provide a safe, loving environment for your daughter and your grandchildren. They’ll learn that they are second to no one. They’ll hold their heads high and live proud!”
“And have their heads cut off the first time they go up against a powerful warlord with his own castle. Having a fortress of your own does have its perks, Arandar. One of which is holding sway over the quality of life of a lot of people who depend on you,” Lord Stallington said.
“A man is only as powerful as the strength of his own will and the decency of his heart,” the rancher said fighting back. “No one can defeat a man who truly believes in himself. If his heart is true and his cause just, he will prevail no matter how long it takes, no matter what the cost, no matter what the hardship!”
“And what would you know of such things?” the Fighting Eagle snarled. “You’re little more than a glorified stable boy.”
Arandar knew he was being challenged by a father to prove his worth, so he squared his shoulders and would not back down.
“I love your daughter. She’ll want for nothing. I’ll kill any man who hurts or insults her. But it’s more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“My life has but one purpose.”
“Which is?”
“To reclaim Dominion Castle for the Kardimont line.”
“And you think you can succeed where others have
failed? In 30 years, no one has attempted to challenge the might of Swarenth. Why should you be able to accomplish what others have not?”
“Because I’m tired of Dominion Castle and much of the former kingdom living under the rule of a tyrant who’s not fit to walk the halls of the kings of old. I’m tired of it, and I’m going to do something about it.”
“What do you think you can do? You have around 100 men and some horses,” the Fighting Eagle said further disparaging the man before him.
“But I also have a stout heart, a driving ambition, a sense of duty, and the belief that it’s my destiny to win back Dominion Castle for the Kardimont line. But before I turn to face that task, I want the woman I love to be at my side. It won’t be an easy life. And you may not have to worry about her being married to a commoner for long, for I’ll more than likely die in battle. But for every moment that I’m on this earth, I’ll love your daughter with every breath that I take. I’m the man she loves, and social position shouldn’t stand between us. I now formally ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Yes.”
“What, my lord?” the rancher said in surprise.
“I said yes. I was always going to say yes. There’s no need to get yourself all worked up into a snit. You love my daughter and are a good man. In the end, that’s enough for me. It’s as much as any father can hope for his daughter. But you might want to tone down your ambitions a bit, or you’ll be right. You’ll make my daughter a widow in a short period of time.”
“I can’t lower my ambitions.”
“And why not?” Lord Stallington smiled. “If I were you, I’d focus on just trying to keep hold of Skybrook Castle for now.”
The rancher took a chair and sat down next to his future father-in-law. He unsheathed his knife and began cutting his beard. Carplorthian came forward with some soap and water and helped his master shave. As the rancher’s chief aide patted his master’s face dry, he said, “Who do you think is under this towel?”
“Someone who’s far more than a rancher,” Lord Stallington said. “But who he actually is, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Am I supposed to recognize him without his beard?”
“I would think so,” Carplorthian said.
“And why is that, pray tell?”
“Because he’s the king!” Carplorthian said as he swept the towel aside with a flourish.
Lord Stallington was stunned. Then he gathered his wits about him and began to struggle out of his sick bed. “I must kneel before my king. Oh, Ulray, where have you been? I thought you had died. We all did.”
“I’m not Ulray. I’m his son, Tarlen.”
The elderly ruler fought to get out of his bed. Genevieve tried to restrain him, but he swung his legs over the side of the bed anyway.
“I may be near death, but I’m not dead yet. While there’s life in my body, I will pay homage to my king.” And with that he fell to his knees.
“I’m sorry, sire. I didn’t know who you were when I spoke to you harshly. I beg your forgiveness,” Lord Stallington said as he put his forehead to the ground in front of his king.
“It’s all rig
ht. You were a father fighting for the well- being of his daughter. You did a good job, too. I wasn’t sure if you were going to say yes or not.”
“I was always going to say yes, sire.”
“I know that now, but you had me going for a while,” King Tarlen said with a sigh of relief.
“My armor, bring me my armor!” the Fighting Eagle shouted to his attendants.
“Father, you must rest,” Genevieve pleaded.
“Not while we have Dominion Castle to conquer. Bring me food. Get me something to eat.”
“I thought you didn’t feel like eating,” Genevieve said. “I don’t. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to die now that my king has returned. This young man may not be Ulray, but I never expected to see Tarlen again either. I will fight at my king’s side once more,” the Fighting Eagle declared.
Two aides helped the elderly ruler to stand up and keep his balance while another helped him into his clothes. The Fighting Eagle put on his chest protector, and the weight of it almost made him collapse once more, but he managed to stay on his feet.
“Okay, okay, maybe I’m not going to do much fighting. But there’s one thing I can do. I have something for you, King Tarlen, a gift fit for a king. Bring me my ceremonial sword,” the Fighting Eagle said.
The elderly ruler’s attendants raced for the sword and then brought it to him. The Fighting Eagle proudly turned to King Tarlen, smiled and said, “You know I was a great friend of your father.”
“He was honored to have you as his friend and ally, Lord Stallington. He spoke of you often, and I remember your visits to Dominion Castle, at least a few of them.”
“Well, after one particularly difficult battle, your father and I met on the field of victory, and he gave me his bloodstained sword. I wore it proudly for years but of late have kept it locked away. And now, I offer it to you, King Tarlen. I offer you your father’s sword.”
When Lord Stallington handed it to him, Tarlen didn’t know what to say. Then he stretched out his arm, held the sword high over his head and shouted at the top of his lungs, “I swear I will strike Swarenth down with this sword! I will avenge my father’s death!”
Out in the hallway, King Tarlen’s men could no longer restrain themselves when they heard that and poured into the room surrounding their king and the Fighting Eagle.