chapter
FIVE
The young knight was out of breath but composed as he came before King Arnaud. Eight days earlier, Arnaud had decided to make a move, and while he knew that it was risky, it was better than sitting around waiting for the worst to happen. He sent a team of seven spies over to Roalthae to discover what was happening in the barrier islands under the rule of Prince Elroy. The man standing before him was one of those seven, but he was the only one who had returned.
Struggling to regain his composure, the spy began, “As you know, Sire, my team and I arrived in Roalthae six days ago. After hiding our craft, we headed towards the capital city. Along the way, we noticed several peculiar things. The fields had been harvested early, ringing of hammers at the forges filled the air. The countryside was quiet, yet the cities were ablaze with people, unusual for this time of year. This made us cautious. We traveled the city and saw that the forges were filled with newly-formed weaponry. Roalthae is preparing for war.”
Arnaud nodded. “We assumed as much. Go on.”
“We made our way to the center of the Capital and gained entry into the palace grounds. Disguising myself as a servant, I reached the corridors near the Throne Room where I caught glimpses of Prince Elroy and his thoughts. He has pledged his allegiance to the King of the Dark Country.”
“How do you know this?”
“There was a foreigner in the throne room with the Prince.”
“How do you know he was a foreigner?”
“His height, for one thing. The people of Roalthae tend to be small in stature, but this man was taller than Your Majesty and his shoulders were as broad as that of an ox. Also, his hair and eyes were very dark, and most of the Roalthaens have lighter hair and eyes.”
“It wasn’t the King of the Dark Country himself?”
The spy shook his head. “I do not believe so. Prince Elroy deferred to him, but not as an equal, more like an advisor he has to put up with. I overheard some of their conversation and they were speaking of a ‘King Seamas,’ which led me to believe that the Dark Country’s King and most of their forces are still either in the Dark Country or only just beginning their voyage of conquest.”
“So their intent is to conquer?”
The spy hesitated. “I am not sure. From what little I overheard, I think the throne of Aom-igh has been promised to Elroy for his help.”
“For his treachery, you mean,” Arnaud growled.
“Yes, Sire,” the spy continued, “but from what I heard, I do not think it is this King Seamas’ intent to rule over Aom-igh. It sounds more as though he is searching for something, something important enough to him that he cares not if our country is destroyed in the hunt. He believes we are hiding something from him, or harboring some criminal.”
“Is that all you learned?”
“No, I also learned that Roalthae will not be contributing men to the invasion.”
“What?”
“You heard me correctly, Sire. Roalthae is providing weapons, ships, and their shores as a staging ground for their attack. We have not yet seen any sign of an invasion because the Dark Country lacks a navy. Prince Elroy is providing transport. Llycaelon will invade when their manpower matches the armada of Roalthae.”
“Interesting,” King Arnaud turned thoughtful. “We can use that information to our advantage. You couldn’t discover the Dark King’s motivation for attacking us?”
The young man shook his head. “Forgive me, Sire, but I do not think that King Seamas has told his own men very much about what, or who, they are looking for. I listened to as much as I could and stayed beyond the point of safety to glean as much information as I was able. I know how important this mission was, but nobody seems to know much more than what I’ve told you.”
“And the rest of my men?”
“They remain hidden throughout the city, waiting to learn more.”
“Good,” Arnaud said. “You have done well, Justan.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
❖ ❖ ❖
“I don’t understand,” Kamarie said slowly, looking around once more, as though she might find some new information or clue she had overlooked that would provide her with the missing piece of the puzzle.
They had reached Peak’s Shadow at last, but there was no one to greet them. The last few miles of the journey had been filled with heightened spirits and laughter, for Yole assured them that they were nearing their destination. What they found at the edge of the mountains quickly reduced their merriment to a bewildered, and somewhat fearful, silence.
Yole was leading the way when they came out of the mountains, but at the sight of Brant’s home he suddenly stopped with a stricken look on his face. What was Brant’s home was now no more than a pile of ashes. There was no sign of life anywhere. The entire valley was eerily quiet, as if even the animals were afraid to break the sacred silence.
They found themselves at a loss in deciding what steps should be taken next. Following directions from Yole, Oraeyn continued townward to learn if anyone knew what had happened to Brant and his family. The others stayed at the remains of Brant’s house to see if they could discover anything.
As she was puzzling over what could have happened, Kamarie heard hoof-beats coming; she looked up to see Oraeyn returning from his search. He slid off of his horse and came over, a little out of breath and looking as though he was carrying a heavy weight. When he faced them, there was a deeply puzzled and worried look in his eyes.
“There is no one left,” he said between gulps of air.
Darby glanced at him in disbelief. “Just what do you mean when you say, ‘no one left’ young man?”
Oraeyn stared up at them, a pained expression on his face. “I mean, no one. Every house in the area looks just like this one: a pile of ash and burned logs. No one is left, either they all departed the village suddenly and it’s some weird custom around here to burn your home before moving, or they were all killed.”
“All killed? What makes you think they were killed?” Kamarie asked.
“What else could this mean? Why else would we find a village that had been burned to the ground with no villagers? If this were an accident, there would be a whole village full of people around here somewhere, building new houses or looking for somewhere to go. If they were leaving the area and heading through the mountains to the north, we would have heard or seen something of them, don’t you think? And there might even be a few left here who did not wish to move. But there is not a living soul to be found, not a single one. So you tell me, does this look like an accident, or does it look like it was a massacre?”
Kamarie had to admit; he had a point.
“But who would do such a thing?” Yole asked.
“You forget, we are being threatened by either Roalthae, the Dark Country, or both. These are dangerous times,” Darby reminded them all.
“So, do you think…?” Kamarie stopped, not wanting Yole to hear her question.
Yole looked at her with wide and frightened amber eyes as he realized what she had been going to ask. “Brant… do you think he’s dead too?”
Kamarie dropped her eyes, unable to meet the boy’s gaze, unable to deny her fears yet not wanting to confirm them either. As her gaze dropped, she saw footprints on the dusty ground. Dropping from her horse she landed in a crouch, studying the marks closely. She touched them lightly, and then followed with her eyes the direction in which they were heading. She straightened and met the eager looks of her companions.
“Someone survived. We can’t know if that someone is Brant or the killer or someone else; but a person standing here, left this spot just a few hours ago. That someone has the answers to at least some of our questions.”
Oraeyn nodded. “Then we must follow those tracks, where do they lead?”
Kamarie grimaced, “That’s the hard part, they go back the way we came, into the mountains.”
Darby sighed. “I’m getting too old
for gallivanting around the countryside, especially when I travel for days to get to one place, only to find out that I actually need to go back the way I came from. Can’t we at least eat first?”
Kamarie smiled sympathetically. “All right Darby, we will eat first, but then we must hurry before darkness hides our trail, I have questions, and I mean to find the answers.”
They ate quickly. No one was eager to turn around and head back to the mountains they had just escaped, but there was nothing else to do. They followed the trail with surprising ease; their prey had not bothered to cover his tracks.
“Well, there are two possibilities,” Oraeyn said when they stopped to make camp for the night. “Either, the person we are following is the attacker and figures that there was no one left to follow him, or the person we are following is a sole survivor from the attack and is bent on revenge, figuring that his enemy thinks he is dead so leaving a clear trail doesn’t matter.”
“I would like to believe that it is a survivor,” Kamarie said as she rolled out her blankets, “because then it will be easier to question him.”
“True,” Oraeyn granted, “but then how many answers do you think he will be able or willing to provide?”
Kamarie saw the wisdom in that, but did not feel like admitting it. “I’m going to get a few more sticks to throw on the fire,” was all she said.
“I’ll come with you,” Oraeyn offered. “We ought to be more careful than we have been, especially now.”
Kamarie looked sober, and they walked together to a lone stand of timber. While they were picking up sticks that would work as firewood, Kamarie finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for a while.
“Oraeyn,” she started.
“Yes?”
“What… what happened in the cave?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, with the ring of rock, and the sword, and the music that came when you were carrying the sword and then stopped when you sheathed it? What did it all mean? Yole said, ‘you are him,’ but… him who? I haven’t even seen the sword since you first came out of that strange place.” There was a tiny bit of a wistful reproach in her voice.
Oraeyn looked down for a moment, then he said, “I don’t know what it all means. The music called me, but since the sword was making the music, I guess you could say that the sword called me. I know it sounds crazy, but I asked Yole to tell me what he knew about the sword. He tried, but his answer didn’t really make any sense. He says he talked to a dragon that looked like a man, and he says the dragon told him a story about the sword being a gift from the dragons to King Llian a long time ago. Apparently when King Llian died he arranged to hide the sword in that cave and leave a spell on it so that no one could remove it from the cave unless it was a direct descendant of King Llian…” Oraeyn trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But... um… none of it really sounds plausible to me. Yole said that he couldn’t take the sword, but he’s a lot shorter than me, maybe he just couldn’t reach it. I don’t know if I believe the story about the dragon.”
Kamarie looked at him. His face was unreadable in the dark, but his voice held a tone of embarrassment. She asked, “Who were your parents?”
“I-I don’t know. I never knew them,” Oraeyn replied. “I was found as a child by Tenrod, my mentor-knight. He found me when I was really little, before I can even remember. He raised me and trained me as a squire. If he hadn’t told me the story of how he found me, I would have believed that he was my father.”
“So, it’s possible. You could be a descendant of King Llian,” Kamarie said. “He was something like a great-great-great-great uncle or second cousin four times removed of my father’s, and he was one of the greatest kings of Aom-igh. But his only son left the throne in the hands of a cousin and vanished. That’s why the line of rulers of Aom-igh has been so odd; the reign is almost never passed from father to son. So… I mean; it’s possible… you could be…”
“I don’t know,” Oraeyn’s tone was harsh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just… it’s too much,” he laughed. “I mean, can you imagine me the direct descendent of the greatest king Aom-igh has ever seen? Look, I don’t know why the sword called me, it just did. Maybe I am a great great something of this Llian, but I don’t want to be. I’m an orphan, I’m an orphan who got lucky enough to be raised by a knight and trained as a squire, that’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want…” he trailed off, as though uncertain how to continue.
Kamarie suddenly felt self-conscious, not knowing what she could say or do that might help. On an impulse, she reached out tentatively and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay, Oraeyn,” she said quietly, “nobody expects you to be anything but what you are. You are Oraeyn, and a sword cannot change that; an ancestor cannot change that.”
Oraeyn relaxed at her words, and there was a comfortable silence for a moment while they gathered some more wood; when they had enough wood they headed back to the camp. As they entered the circle of light and dancing shadows that the flickering campfire sent off, Oraeyn said quickly, “Thanks, Kamarie.”
❖ ❖ ❖
Brant had stopped for the night. The trail he was on was not a difficult one to follow, and the darkness was not a problem, but he was tired and he knew that Legend could use a rest as well. If he did not stop now, he would have to stop later, and by that time he would only be even more tired and would need to rest longer. He found a small cave without difficulty, more a small opening or shallow depression in the side of a wall of rock, really, but it would serve as a relatively safe place to sleep for a few hours. He turned Legend out to graze on the sparse grass in the nearby area. The horse was well-trained and would not wander far. He surveyed the land in front of him before allowing himself to relax; there was nothing in sight that told him anything of whoever he was tailing, but something, some extra warrior sense perhaps, told him danger was still there in front of him and that he should proceed with care. As he crawled into the small cave, he glanced behind him, back towards the way that he had come, and tensed. There was a glow, the kind that would come from a campfire, only several miles behind him. Thoughts raced through his mind, each one more worrisome than the last, but no matter who was following him it was obvious that he could not sleep yet. Putting rest out of his mind, Brant cautiously crept back the way that he had come.
Oraeyn was half asleep when he heard the faint noise. It was nothing loud or even obvious, just a slight difference in the silence, really, but it was enough to alert his trained senses to the possible threat. In an instant he was up with his sword half drawn. He looked around in confusion. He saw nothing; there was no visible threat, but the strange prickle on the back of his neck told him something was near. That was when he realized he had been falling asleep when he was supposed to be on guard. Shaking his head to clear it, he started pacing back and forth; he dared not sit down now that he knew how tired he was.
Brant silently kicked himself as he realized that he had somehow given himself away and had woken the man sitting by the campfire. Quietly now, and with more care, Brant moved towards the campfire; when he was about twenty feet away, he stopped and surveyed the area. The man standing guard was now pacing back and forth, probably trying to keep himself awake. Behind him under an outcropping of rock there were the forms of three other people who appeared to be sleeping. He wondered if he should try to talk with them or if he should just get rid of them. Weighing his options, he decided that it was less risky to try talking first. His attackers were ahead of him, had to be ahead of him. Even if these people were bandits or enemies, it was very likely that they did not know what he looked like. Besides, if he attacked first and they were not the ones he was looking for, innocent blood might be shed, and that was not what Brant wanted.
His decision made, Brant stood up and strode into the circle of light offered by the campfire. “Hello there, friend,” he said, loudly enough
to startle the guard but quietly enough that his greeting could not be mistaken for a threat.
Oraeyn jumped and grasped the hilt of his sword as he turned towards the person who had spoken. The voice was deep, and there was something strong and good about it. As the man strode into the light, Oraeyn studied the visitor warily. The stranger was tall. He was lean and muscular, and he wore his sword easily as if it was a part of him. He moved with deadly grace, like a falcon that could whirl and dive upon its prey with lightning speed. The man strode noisily into their camp, but Oraeyn knew he could have gotten much closer without ever being noticed; he instinctively recognized that this man was dangerous.
Brant knew he was being studied, but he didn’t mind, it gave him a moment to study the man before him as well. The guard was much younger than he had first thought. The boy was a good-looking youth with green eyes and light brown hair that was trimmed short like a squire’s, he was tall, but a good three inches shorter than Brant. At his side he carried a sword that Brant would have liked to look at more closely. It was obvious that the boy was experienced with the weapon, but Brant doubted he had ever used it in real combat. The youth had an unseasoned look about his face. There was something in the eyes that told Brant this young man had never had to stare death in the face. He was probably a squire, Brant decided; he was not young enough for a page.
“Who goes there?” Oraeyn asked firmly.
“A lone traveler looking for some company,” came Brant’s casual reply.
“Oraeyn? Who are you talking to?” Kamarie sat up, blinking. Then she noticed the stranger and in one motion she went from lying on the ground half asleep, to wide-awake and standing up with her sword drawn.
Although Brant felt a wave of admiration at the girl’s swift response to the situation, he knew he must quickly put both of them at ease before they got themselves hurt. “I see before me two knights, or at least squires. I did not realize I was in such esteemed company,” he said, hoping that these two were, in fact, in the employ of the king.
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 9