Fire And Ice (Book 1)

by Wayne Krabbenhoft III

  Why did he demand that? Then it came to her. It was insurance in case Torvilin decided to have him killed some time later. With Coran out of the way he could make another claim.

  When the Voltian balked the pressure on the sword point increased, producing a trickle of blood.

  “Do not misunderstand me Torvilin,” Coran said with a voice that would cut steel. “Swear or I will kill you.”

  His face pale, Torvilin spoke through gritted teeth. “I swear.” The point removed, he slumped to the ground, panting.

  Two attendants ran forward to Torvilin’s side. Robert ordered the healer sent for. Torvilin did not look good. Without a healer he would surely die from the loss of blood. Another woman tried to look at Coran’s wound but he waved her away.

  “I want to get back to the palace,” he said as he leaned on his sword.

  Katelyn crossed the distance between them quickly. “Are you all right?” she asked as she tried to get a look at the wound she knew to be on his chest.

  “I am fine,” he told her.

  “I think we should all return now,” the King said, looking to where a man in the white robes of a healer ran up and knelt by the fallen Prince. “You should let the healer check you over,” he said to Coran.

  “Really, I am fine. I just want to go and get cleaned up.”

  “Very well,” Robert conceded. “Will you be joining us for dinner? With all the guests, we will be eating in the hall.” Then he looked around, but only Katelyn and Coran were close enough to hear what he said. “How much did you know?”

  He did not have to say about what. Coran spoke no louder than the King. “I figured out that the High King sent me along to confront Torvilin. The rest?” He shrugged, “It was a surprise to me.”

  Robert’s brows lowered. “That was not right. I am sorry for the part I played in this.”

  “You did not know that we were unaware,” Katelyn told him.

  “We?” Robert questioned her. “You were not aware either?”

  Katelyn shook her head. “I must find a way to apologize to you as well,” Robert said before again checking to make sure that no one was near. “Do you know why Stemis went to all this trouble? I know about the political difficulties, but why was this so important?”

  Katelyn had to think how to respond. She could not reveal what she knew. If her Father wanted anyone to know he would not have had it kept secret. “I can only say that I believe it was well worth it.” She left Robert to figure out how it was meant.

  As the King left them their friends crowded around. All except Willa, who accompanied her mother to a coach that was waiting to take them back to the palace.

  “Nice fight,” Devon commented.

  “Yes, congratulations,” Rob added.

  “Thanks, but right now I just want to get back to my room,” Coran informed them.

  “I will get us a couple of horses,” Devon said, already walking away in search of transportation.

  “Ladies,” Rob called, including the quiet Alys, “the coach awaits.”

  Katelyn crossed the grass covered distance to the open door and took Rob’s hand while stepping up and inside the coach. Looking out the square window she spotted Lord Onatel standing alone at the edge of the pavilion. The Lord was staring at Coran with a very thoughtful look on his face. When everyone was in and the door closed tight, the coach lurched into motion. The last thing she saw was Devon appearing with two saddled mounts.

  The room was smaller than he had expected of a Lord, or the son of a Lord. The small square room only contained a modest bed, a washstand and a small dresser. These were quarters more fitting a servant. Not that he really cared where his victim slept, but the problem was that there was no place to hide. It looked like he would have to play the part of the servant himself.

  Everything had gone well so far. As he expected the few people he saw while traversing the corridors were mostly palace servants going about their own duties. They had no time to question another of their number hurrying along. His timing had been lucky as well. Word came that the nobles were returning and staff members were sent to the wing that contained the royal apartments to make sure wash water was prepared and wine brought so they could ready themselves for the evening meal. He picked up a bowl for washing, filled it and fell in with the others. He passed right under the noses of the guards assigned to protect this area. A few very carefully worded questions led him to the room he sought. Now he only had to wait. Hopefully the guards hadn’t counted heads. He didn’t think so with all the confusion of people passing back and forth. Luckily none of the other staff members had come in to find him there.

  A little later he thought he heard voices stop outside the door. He jumped up and tried to make it look like he was placing the bowl down on the table. The door clicked and the voices grew louder before cutting off.

  “What are you doing in here?” a tall young man with dark hair asked as he stepped into the room. By the description given to him by his employer, he had to be Coran Tyelin, his target. A girl was with him, a pretty little thing with black hair. He stopped the frown from appearing on his face. Two of them. It would make things trickier, but he wouldn’t get another chance like this one. There was no help for it.

  “I was just bringing the water,” he tried to sound subservient. “My Lord, my Lady.” He bowed awkwardly.

  The man nodded. “You have brought it so you can leave now.”

  “Of course, Sir,” He started for the door. As he passed them the tall young man frowned. He followed the fellow’s gaze to his feet and cursed. No one else had noticed. His hand found the hilt of the curved blade at his back and it was out and striking in a blink. The man, Coran, reacted faster than he thought possible. There was no hesitation in Coran’s movements. Coran’s hands wrapped around his own and drove the knife downward and back, using his own momentum against him. He gasped when his own blade entered him. As quickly as he felt the wound burning inside him, everything went numb. He suddenly felt nothing and his eyes closed. He thought he heard a thump before the end.

  Coran sat on the edge of the bed. The body of the man who had tried to kill him lay on its side, curled around his belly. A knife was stuck in his gut.

  “Do you think Torvilin paid him?” Katelyn asked, breaking the silence. She seemed to have recovered from the initial shock.

  “I don’t doubt it, but let’s take a look first.” He slid off the bed and knelt by the dead man. He looked over the back of the green livery the man wore before gripping a lifeless arm and turning the body over on its back. The glazed eyes stared up at nothing. The hilt of the protruding knife was of white bone with gold on the curled cross guard and pommel.

  “He definitely was not a member of the staff,” he concluded.

  “Are you sure?” she asked peering over the body from where she knelt a foot away. She made no move to get any closer.

  “Yes. The first thing I noticed before he attacked was his shoes. They are all scuffed up and the color is wrong. The staff normally wears black footwear, not brown.”

  “The ostlers wear brown,” she pointed out.

  “Not inside the palace. He must have remembered that, or he would not have panicked and drawn the knife. Speaking of the knife,” he touched the gold on the pommel with a finger, but made no move to remove it from the body. “No one who worked here, or any common footpad would own a knife like this. If they ever did they would have sold it. This was important to him. Like a blacksmith and his favorite hammer.”

  “An assassin,” she surmised.

  “A professional killer,” he agreed. “Here.” He indicated some dark stains near the green collar of the livery. “Blood. Already dry. That means he has been inside the palace for a while. Probably came in some time during the tournament.”

  “When there were only a few people around.” Her eyebrows lowered in thought. “So there is another body around somewhere.”

  “With its throat cut.”

  “Wouldn’t there
be more blood than that?”

  “There would unless he knew what he was doing, and if he intended to use this.” He touched the green over shirt. “The easiest way to kill quietly is a knife in the back, aimed at the heart. Once in you give it a quick twist and it’s over. There are no holes in the back of the shirt so he must have killed for the livery. The second best way is to cut the throat.”

  She looked at him in surprise and a little amusement. “How do you know so much about killing someone from behind?”

  “We were talking with Hormil one time and he was telling us about taking out sentries. He was much more colorful in his account.”

  “I can imagine.” She studied the body for a moment. “You do think it was Torvilin?”

  He thought for a moment. Right now he couldn’t think of anyone else who might want him dead. “Yes. My guess is that this fellow was hired about three days ago.”

  “That would be just before Torvilin arrived.”

  “He is not stupid enough to hire an assassin himself. This guy looks local, so there might be someone who knew him.”

  Katelyn stood and crossed to the door. Opening it she stepped out for a moment and when she returned a guardsman, armed with a sword at his side, accompanied her. He stopped cold at the sight of the body.

  “If you could get this out of here?” the Princess ordered, waving a hand at the dead man lying in the middle of the room. “And tell King Robert that an assassin tried to kill Lord Coran in his room.”

  The guard glanced at him appraisingly. He put a hand over his heart. “At once, Your Highness.”

  The guard stooped down, grabbed the dead man by the ankles and dragged the body into the hall. Before Katelyn closed the door, questioning shouts could be heard from others in the hall.

  She rounded on him and her tone became business-like. “Onto the bed. Take off your shirt. That wound still needs to be cleaned.” She took a towel and the bowl of water over to the bed.

  Coran struggled out of the shirt with some effort, then moved so that he was able to lean with his back against the light colored wood of the headboard. She soaked the cloth in the water then began to wipe the dried blood from the six inch long scrape that crossed his chest. If he wasn’t so tired he would have winced at the pressure. As it was, he gave a little grunt when she started.

  “Robert will take care of the guards. We shouldn’t have to worry about any more attacks,” she said while she worked.

  He closed his eyes. This was the first time all day that he was able to relax. Too many surprises, too much reacting when he ought to be the one dictating things. Twice he had underestimated people today. Stemis and his need to have everything tied up in a nice little package was one. Torvilin and the level of his hate was the other. He would have expected it after today, but that the man would want him killed for what happened in Summerhall was difficult to believe. He couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

  The towel stopped moving on him and he opened his eyes. Katelyn was watching him intently. He thought it was a look he recognized. She turned away quickly, gathered the towel and the bowl of water, and rose off the bed. She put her burden down on the small washstand.

  “I should get cleaned up myself,” she said without looking at him.

  He raised an arm as he was about to stop her from leaving, then let it drop, as she hurriedly left the room and closed the door firmly behind her. He wanted to say something about what had happened tonight, but realized that he had no idea what to say. He knew that they would have to discuss the situation sometime.

  Chapter 10

  Conversations

  Two paths stood ahead of him. Two perfectly round tunnels of darkness. There was no need for him to look anywhere else, he knew there were no other openings. No other paths from which to choose. He had to choose. The thought was there without knowing why. Which way to go? Which direction should he take his life? He had to choose.

  He could feel the darkness closing in around him. Shadows touched his shoulders, tried to grab him, to hold him. He had to choose.

  A shape appeared in one of the tunnel openings. It became more distinct, like a cloud becoming solid. Suddenly it was Katelyn standing before him. She wore a pure white gown that glowed from some unseen light. Her hair blew outward behind her, but he felt no motion of air.

  A soft yellow light reflected off the smooth walls of the second tunnel. It grew brighter, or came closer, he could not be sure. Behind Katelyn there was only blackness, yet she glowed like the moon in the night.

  The tendrils of darkness caressed his face and he shivered from their touch. The second path offered a brighter, yellowish light. He took a hesitant step towards it. As if that were a signal the light pulsed and grew in intensity. The darkness, instead of receding, grew as well. It now wrapped itself around his arms and ran down his front like a wave of black water. He took another, hesitant step and heat, hot enough to have come from a forge fire, hit his face. He stopped moving, but the heat grew and the light came closer. He knew now that it was moving. Faster it approached until he could see what it was. A wall of molten flame burst out of the tunnel to engulf him. Instead of being burned though, he was permeated with a feeling of power. He was power. It coursed through every part of him. With this much power he could do anything. He could make the world a better place. Hunger could be eradicated, and disease made nonexistent. He could save others from the fate that took his mother from him. He felt stronger than he ever had. He felt more alive than ever before.

  Something was wrong. He felt too good. No single person should wield this much power. The darkness was no longer on him, but had joined the power inside him. Then he felt what that power really was. Although he could do great good with it, the power itself was destructive. It was the power of destruction.

  Coran sat up in bed gasping. He raised a hand to his face but it felt cool. The room was still dark so he lay back down. Was it just a dream, or something more?

  Gelarus said that dreams were like windows. Sometimes they opened up into parts of the dreamer’s mind that were consciously unknown. Memories that had been lost, fears and hopes that were buried, or knowledge unrealized were all things that could be revealed in a dream. Also dreams could just be abstract interpretations of real life events. Sometimes those windows opened up into future possibilities that the dreamer might eventually encounter. That was only part of what Gelarus knew on the subject. He also said that it was almost impossible for someone to know which had occurred. Even with the help of someone trained in dreaming it was an imperfect science. Of course, Gelarus had pointed out that there were only a handful of people in the world who understood it at all.

  But none of that answered his question. Was it a real choice he had to make or just some play on his fears for the future? A feeling in him said it was important, so he should at least think about it. Besides, he didn’t think he could go back to sleep.

  Obviously, in the dream he had a choice to make, a choice between two paths to follow. Down one road there was Katelyn and down the other she was not. He got a chill at that thought. Did that idea come from his interpretation or did he know what it meant? He could go around and around on thinking that way. The only way to do this was to decide what it meant and to trust his gut that it was right. He knew what one path held for him; the promise of light; a promise of light through power; the light of fire and destruction. Or was it that simple? The other way was hidden and only Katelyn gave any hint of what followed. Was that enough? His gut just told him he had found the core of it. He was afraid of what might happen after he made such a choice. He was so wary of what came after that he did not want to make any choice at all. He hid from that just like he hid from his own feelings. The dream was telling him that he had to make a choice, and it had shown the way he had to choose. No, not had to, but wanted to?

  He sat up, shaking his head. “I think too much. What do I know about dreams? Nothing.” Katelyn being in his dream after yesterday was not surprising. The whol
e betrothal situation was bound to produce dreams of some sort, and the assassin would not help with that either. He was going to make a choice and right now that was to get up and get dressed.

  His black shirt was still torn from last night, so he went to the dresser and pulled out a plain white one. He dressed quickly, feeling refreshed despite the troubling dream. He picked up his sword belt as a knock came from the other side of the door.

  “Come,” he called loud enough to be heard through the heavy wooden door.

  It was Alys who entered. She wore a light dress of pale rose. Her brown hair was pulled over one shoulder and hung in curls. She still held her eyes downcast at times, but she was getting better. “My Lord, Her Highness would like it if you would join her this morning in the practice yard.”

  Coran looked to the curtained window. He must have been lying in bed, thinking, longer than he had thought. The sun was just above the horizon. He turned to her and bowed low. “My Lady, gladly will I meet with Her Highness.” She just stared, unsure how to take his formality. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Coran? I won’t be offended.”

  “Sorry. It is a difficult habit to break.”

  He finished buckling the belt and adjusted the sword at his hip. “Why in the yard?” he asked as they left.

  “Her, Katelyn is feeling rather confined. She did not feel like a morning spent in conversation.”

  “Was she dressed to watch or participate?”

  “Participate,” Alys admitted, smiling.

  They walked on through near empty halls, past marble columns and intricate tapestries. People were resting up for the spring celebration that would begin in earnest throughout the afternoon. It was a celebration of rebirth for another year.