The Devil's Fire

by Sara Bell

  "Let us hope your faith is well placed.” Tristam looked far from convinced as he gave Gareth a long, lingering stare. “'Twill be your head if this thing goes awry."

  Tristam was right, but there was no help for it as far as Gareth could see. Rather than trying to placate Tristam, he nudged Merrick forward and the three of them continued on in silence, crossing through Banning's gates a scant hour later.

  The capitol city was as harried and bustling as Gareth remembered from his visit with Kiel during the first year of their marriage. The town square was full to bursting with shops and city offices, and merchants littered every corner, eager to sell their wares. To Gareth's way of thinking, Banning was one of the few places where all manner of classes met on equal ground, with royalty and common folk sharing the same space. He took it all in, using the noise and distraction of the city to take his mind off the confrontation to come.

  Through the streets of Banning they rode, and though the journey on to the castle itself was a goodly distance, it seemed to Gareth as if no time had passed before they'd reached the castle wall.

  A bevy of armed sentinels met them at the iron gates separating Banning Castle from the city itself. The leader, a swarthy guard with a thick mustache, stepped up to meet them. He had a wicked pike clutched tight in his hand.

  "Who goes here?"

  Following tradition, Gareth dismounted from Merrick's back before dropping the reins and stopping just in front of the head sentinel. “King Gareth of Kray, here on official summons of the High King.” From the pouch at his belt, Gareth produced the document and then passed it to the sentinel for inspection.

  The leader read the parchment with widening eyes before falling on his face at Gareth's feet. “Begging your pardon, Sire. Welcome to Banning Castle."

  The remainder of the guards gave a similar showing of respect before Gareth ordered the lot of them to their feet. As the sentinels hastened to open the gates, Gareth remounted Merrick and, at the leader's signal, rode on through.

  On the other side of the gates, a rush of stable hands and servants hurried forth to take their mounts and see to their comfort. Wycaster and the rest of the soldiers who'd accompanied them from Drystan were shown to the guest barracks as a tall, richly robed steward met the three kings in the center of the courtyard.

  "Welcome to Banning, Majesties. I am Levelard, your humble servant. ‘Tis with great delight I tell you that King Elwin knows you are here and extends his personal greetings.” He bowed his dark head and then straightened back to his full height. “'Twill be my pleasure to take you on to see the High King. Eland!” Levelard snapped his bony fingers at a passing servant. “See that their majesties’ things are taken to the guest quarters at once."

  As the lad raced to do his master's bidding, Levelard turned once again to Tristam, Alric, and Gareth. “Right this way, Sires."

  They followed him up the winding path leading from the bailey to the inner courtyard. Unlike the small, cozy space at Kray, Banning's courtyard was massive, with lists dominating one side of the space and a formal garden occupying the other. The garden was brimming with elegantly dressed maidens and courtly lords, but it was the lists that drew Gareth's attention. Two mail-clad warriors were locked in heated combat, their swords clashing and clanging in a series of thrusts and parries that was dizzying to watch. Neither man went in for the kill, which told Gareth theirs was only a contest of skill and not a death match. He swallowed, knowing he himself would bear no such luck.

  Levelard took them through the courtyard to a side entrance at the castle's base. “I'll show you to your quarters, my kings, so you may freshen up whilst I formally announce you to the court. As soon as you're ready, I'll see you on to the High King."

  "I thank you, Levelard.” Gareth waited until they were inside and the door was securely closed behind them before again addressing the steward. “Would you be so kind as to inquire of the High King as to whether or not he received my missive?"

  "As a matter of fact, he did, Sire.” Levelard looked Gareth dead in the eye. “King Elwin found your message most intriguing. Indeed, the High King bade me tell you that all is in place."

  Gareth gave Levelard a single nod. Levelard acknowledged the gesture with a bob of his own head before taking them down the hall to their rooms. Opening the last door on the left, he said, “For you, Kings of Kray,” and then strode across the hall to open the opposite door for Tristam. “Here you are, my good King of Drystan.” He stepped back into the center of the hall before addressing all three of them, again. “Eland should be along any moment with your things. I'll summon the servants at once and instruct them to bring you a hot meal and arrange for a bath."

  "Thank you, Levelard.” This from Tristam, who waited until Levelard took his leave before leaning into Gareth and lowering his voice. “Missive?"

  Gareth nodded. “Using one of Drystan's fastest messengers, I dispatched a letter to the High King."

  Alric regarded him closely. “When?"

  Gareth threaded one arm around Alric's waist. “The same day I received the summons to appear here at Banning."

  Tristam curled his lip. “But of course, you have no intention of telling us what was in that letter."

  "Patience, Tristam.” Gareth almost smiled at the disgruntled expression on Tristam's face. “All will be revealed in short order."

  "You'd better be right about your ability to best Denmar.” Tristam crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn't come all the way to Banning, leaving my wife and child behind, to lose the only brother I have left."

  As always, Tristam's concern for him touched Gareth's heart. “You aren't going to lose me, Tristam. I promise you that."

  "'Tis one promise you'd best keep. I'll not allow my precious little Calla to be deprived the chance to know her uncle."

  "'Precious little Calla,’ is it?” Gareth raised both brows. “What happened to, ‘A man needs sons to rule a kingdom, Gareth?’”

  Tristam shrugged. “A man can run a kingdom just as well with a daughter by his side, especially a daughter as intelligent and precocious as mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room to await my bath."

  Gareth laughed as Tristam turned on his heel and went inside his chamber, closing the door behind him. “Have ever you seen someone so entranced by a babe?"

  "Without question.” Alric grinned as he made for their room, pulling Gareth with him. “Maris is even more besotted with Calla than Tristam, if ‘tis possible.” He closed the door. “In truth, I think most parents go a bit daft over their offspring. I know my own father was as doting as they come."

  "An understatement, that. If ever a man was more enamored with his children than Declan, I've ne'er heard tell of it.” Gareth sat down on the side of the lavish bed dominating the center of the room. “Your father wanted you to have children, you know."

  "My father wanted a lot of things."

  Something in Alric's eyes gave Gareth pause. “Are you saying you don't want children? Having seen how good you are with Stefan and little Calla, I'd be hard pressed to believe you don't want a family of your own."

  "Wanting has nothing to do with it.” Alric came to stand in front of him. “As long as Denmar lives, no child of ours would ever be safe. Losing my father at that monster's hand was a pain beyond bearing, but to lose a child...” He shuddered. “Until Denmar is out of our lives, taking heirs is not an option."

  "One way or another, love, Denmar will soon pose no threat.” Gareth pulled Alric into the circle of his arms. “On that you have my vow."

  Alric said nothing, only held Gareth fast. That suited Gareth just fine. The true trial was yet to come, and Gareth needed all of Alric's strength and support he could soak in.

  * * * *

  Long before Alric was ready to face the coming ordeal, Levelard was back to fetch them. In silent obedience, Alric, Gareth, and Tristam followed the steward through the winding corridors of the castle's wings to the main building where lay the quiet opulence of the
throne room.

  The room was as magnificent as Alric remembered from his last visit, with its high, timbered ceiling and marble-laid floor, but it was the imperious man dominating the gilded throne at the room's center that most held Alric's attention. No one who'd ever caught sight of Elwin's scarred face could forget the High King.

  It wasn't that Elwin was uncomely. In fact, Alric found him quite handsome with his short crop of raven hair and black, piercing eyes. His form was as fit and fine as any man could ask for, lean but rippling with hard muscle. Indeed, Elwin would have been a near perfect specimen if not for the deep, jagged scar running from the corner of his eye and trailing over his right cheek all the way down to the base of his throat. Alric could only imagine what pain such a wound must have wrought.

  Elwin rose as Levelard took the three of them to the fore of the throne. After first dismissing the steward with a wave of his hand, Elwin greeted them with a single nod. “Welcome to Banning."

  Alric, Gareth, and Tristam dropped each to one knee, but Elwin was quick to bid them rise. “'Tis only the four of us here now, each of us a king in his own right. I say we dispense with the formalities and meet as equals ere the true test begins."

  Once they were again on their feet, Elwin took a step closer to where Alric was standing between Gareth and Tristam. “You were little more than a boy when last we met.” He eyed Alric up and down. “What was it Lord Denmar said about you, again?” Elwin's finger absently traced his scar. “Ah, yes. He referred to you as ‘a picture of masculine perfection.'” The High King's lips twisted. “For once Denmar and I agree on something."

  Gareth bristled and probably would have said something had Alric not headed him off. Focusing his eyes on Elwin, Alric said, “Begging your pardon, Majesty, but Denmar's pretty words mean nothing to me. I played the fool for him once before, and I'll rot in the Under Realms for all eternity ere I do it again."

  To Alric's surprise, Elwin's lips twisted into a half smile. “Handsome and spirited to boot. No wonder Denmar grieves the loss of you."

  "Denmar grieves nothing save the loss of Alric's powers.” Gareth's mouth fell into a hard line. “If you're even thinking of giving Alric back to that cur—"

  "Peace, my friend.” Elwin held up one long-fingered hand. “I knew good and well the circumstances when I issued the annulment of Denmar and Alric's marriage. I may have done so in honor of my father's friendship with Declan of Kray, but I was all too aware of Denmar's misdeeds.” Again, Elwin's fingers absently stroked the scar on his cheek. Shifting his eyes back to Alric, he said, “From what I've heard, I'm not the only one in this room who bears a mark of the past. At any rate,” he straightened to his full height, hands at his sides, “I have no intention of granting Denmar's petition for a reinstatement of the first marriage. Besides,” Elwin turned and made his way back to his throne. “According to the correspondence I received from you, good King Gareth, I have more pressing problems to deal with than Lord Denmar."

  At that moment, Tristam's patience finally reached its end. “Perhaps now would be the time for someone to explain just what was contained in this mysterious letter that Gareth sent."

  Gareth started to answer but Elwin said, “Please, allow me.” The High King took his seat and folded his fingers together over one knee in a pose that would have seemed casual if not for the seriousness of his next words. “'Twould seem there's a traitor in my midst. Several traitors, if Gareth's information is correct. Oh, I'd already heard something of the like from Thaddeus of Winthrop, but let us just say I had good reason to call Thaddeus's credibility into question."

  Given Thaddeus's history, Alric could well understand why Elwin had been reluctant to believe him, but at least Winthrop had kept his word and informed the High King of Denmar's plot.

  Looking to Elwin, Alric said, “I take it Gareth's missive was more convincing."

  "In a manner of speaking.” Elwin leaned to the side and pulled on the long golden cord dangling to the right of the throne. A second later a servant garbed in the same rich shade of gold appeared.

  "Bring in our first guest, Somersby."

  The servant bowed low and scurried off, at which point Elwin turned his attentions back to Alric. “I'm not sure how much you know of the High Council, Alric, but of the fifteen men currently sitting at the Council table, every last one inherited his position. Indeed, most of my councilors can say an ancestor of theirs has sat on the High Council since the Over Kingdom was founded some three hundred years ago.” Elwin sighed, and for the first time Alric caught a glimpse of the weariness inside him. “To accuse someone with such a noble lineage of treason in its highest form is no small task. Thankfully, your husband has thought of the perfect way to test each councilor's metal.” At that moment, a knock sounded on the outer door and Elwin smiled. “Right on time, I see.” He raised his voice. “Bring him in, Somersby."

  The door opened, and Alric's stomach clenched as Finn was led inside. Turning to Gareth with a racing heart, Alric said, “What have you done?"

  Before Gareth could answer, Elwin said, “Peace, dear Alric. Gareth did nothing more than inform me of yon Finneas's most unusual ... talents."

  Finn bowed low to Elwin before coming to stand beside Alric. “Greetings cousin. You're looking well."

  "Whereas you look scared to death.” Alric embraced him, using the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “You don't have to expose yourself this way."

  Finn stepped back and shook his head. “Yes, I do, and not simply because the High King asked me to. Denmar deserves to pay for what he's done to you.” Finn's eyes went hard. “If I can play a part in seeing that the whoreson gets what he deserves, then ‘tis exactly what I mean to do."

  Alric was warmed by Finn's unselfishness, but he knew firsthand what exposure of this sort would mean. “Once your gift becomes common knowledge, all the power-mad nobles in Orielle will seek to exploit your talents for their own gain.” Before Finn could respond, Alric whirled on Gareth as anger over his actions began to build. “How could you do this without consulting me? You've seen what my own powers have cost me. How can you ask Finn to endure the same ordeal? And how, by all that's holy, did you learn of Finn's powers to begin with?"

  "Don't be angry with Gareth,” Finn said. “I purposely gave myself away to him ere the two of you left Hume for Kray."

  Alric's memory stirred. “When you spoke to him in the hall as we were leaving."

  Finn nodded. “I told him that I saw a great battle coming in his future, and that he must protect you no matter the cost to himself. Before he could question me, I told him about my gift.” Finn gave a weak smile. “I thought at first he believed me daft, but when the messenger arrived at Hume asking me to come to Banning and offer my services to the High King, I knew Gareth had taken me seriously.” His voice went soft. “I need to do this, Alric. For all our sakes."

  "You see, Alric,” Elwin leaned back against his seat, “no one is forcing Finneas to do anything he doesn't want to do."

  Alric wasn't convinced, and since Elwin had more or less invited them to speak freely, he had no reservations in doing so. “Finn's loyalty and friendship toward me sometimes clouds his better judgment. No matter what Denmar's game, I'll not have Finn used as a pawn."

  "As you were used, you mean?” Elwin tilted his head to the side, studying Alric's face. “'Twould seem that Finneas is not the only one who knows the meanings of loyalty and friendship. You can rest assured, Alric, that Finneas will be well protected and amply rewarded for the service he's about to perform."

  Tristam, who was still in the dark, said, “Would someone please tell me just what this talent of Finneas's is, and how such a talent is supposed to weed out the Council's unworthy?"

  "Young Finneas has the gift of second sight. From what he's told me, he can read a man's motives through nothing more than a touch.” Elwin gave all assembled a bemused half-grin. “'Tis a trait I wouldn't mind having myself."

  "And you're telling me you're will
ing to take Finn at his word?” Alric didn't bother trying to disguise his doubt. “Not to seem impertinent, Sire, but ‘twould not be wise for a king to be seen taking the word of a lesser noble he's only just met over the oaths of well-established Council members."

  Far from being annoyed over Alric's blunt skepticism, Elwin seemed pleased with the question. “'Tis a valid point you make.” Elwin stood and then crossed the room to a low chest under an east-facing window. Removing a stack of parchment, he came back to stand in front of Alric.

  "There are the documents provided to me by Thaddeus of Winthrop. The names of the traitors are disclosed in these letters. If Finneas, who has no prior knowledge of the varlets’ identities, names the same men as traitors, then I'll know he's chosen well.” Elwin tucked the letters into his belt. “Enough conjecture. Let us adjourn to the Council room."

  Elwin led them through the double doors on the west side of the throne room into an open space of equal splendor. At the room's center sat an oval table of gold embellished oak, around which were seated fifteen elegantly dressed nobles, each of whom regarded the intruders with undisguised speculation.

  Elwin seemed to be amused by the councilors’ surprised expressions. To Tristam, Gareth and Alric, he said, “Gentlemen, if you'll take your seats,” Elwin pointed to a set of low benches on the far side of the room, “I think ‘tis high time I told the Council why we're here."

  Once Alric and the rest complied with the High King's order, Elwin said, “Come, Finneas. I've a task for you."

  Alric's throat went tight as Elwin guided Finn to the dais. Placing a hand on Finn's shoulder, Elwin said, “Stand here for a moment while I address the Council.” Stepping onto the platform, Elwin came to stand behind an empty seat at the head of the table—this one larger in scale and grander than the chairs occupied by the councilors.

  "Lords of Orielle's most High Council, I present to you Kings Gareth and Alric of Kray and King Tristam of Drystan."

  Each of the councilors nodded his acknowledgment of the three kings’ stations before bringing his attention back to the High King.