"Not before we get Elwin and Aidan out of the Temple," Pallas asserted.
"It is too late for them, boy... Elwin! The Prince? Prince Elwin of Ceredigion?!" Ned looked shocked. His eyes were as wide as if someone had just unexpectedly slapped him across the face.
Colin gave Pallas a hard look, but it was too late. "Yes. He is the Prince of Ceredigion."
"In the name of the three gods! I should have known."
Avoiding Colin's angry look, Pallas opened the door a crack. "There is no one out there. We should get moving. Where is this temple? We have our friends to save.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Pulling on long oars, a dozen sailors propelled the lean riverboat against the gently moving current of the Clwyd River. Overhead a large grayish-white sail, filled with a warm breeze, helped the boat move a little faster against the flow of the wide river. Keeping to the slower moving currents, the helmsman hugged the west bank of the river. The shoreline with a mixture of trees, freshly planted fields, and small farms silently slipped by.
Ruan stood at the stern of his boat. He found a certain calmness when he was on the water. The rhythmic sound of the creaking oars and the splashing of the water was almost hypnotic. He gazed off to the south. It had been almost a week since he had left Gildas. Off Fish Hawk's stern, the wide river stretched into the distance as Ruan searched its quite waters. The past week had been quiet and uneventful. Ruan knew that he should be thankful for the past few days, but he was not. Things were changing in Strigiol. Once the river would have been busy with traffic, but now it was nearly deserted. Earlier that morning they had sailed past the small town of Crioch. Even there it seemed unusually quiet. As the boat approached the town, people vanished inside their homes, slamming their windows shut and locking their doors.
"Tomorrow," Ruan told himself, “tomorrow we will be home." Staring off to the south, Ruan found what he was looking for. He had been hoping that he would not find it, but the northern lord knew that he would. It was always there. Rising above the distant horizon, he saw a cloud of dust. We have gained some more ground, he thought,... But not enough. It will never be enough.
Ruan knew that an army was chasing them up the river. The river boat was faster than any army could hope to match. Ruin had also set up rotating shifts at the oars so that day and night Fish Hawk made its way towards the north country. He would reach Keloran tomorrow, but what good would it do him? Ruan's boat may be able to move faster than an army, yet once he reached Keloran, there was nowhere else to run. He and those who were with him would be caught between the army and the mountains. Ruan figured that he would have a week or two before the army arrived. Then there would be a siege. Ruan shook his head. He could not hope to hold out against the Strigiol army. There would be no allies coming to his aid. He was alone in his stance against the king and his Prophet. Trying not to think of what the future would bring, he turned around, putting his back to the south and the troubles that pursued him. Looking across the boats deck a young boy caught Ruan’s eye. The boy who was the young prince of Strigiol was now slowly walking across the deck. Ruan followed him with his eyes. The child was enjoying his riverboat ride and seemed unaware of his situation. Ruan envied the child's ability to live for the day, but the prince's future was as bleak as Ruan's, and maybe worse.
The boy came up to the starboard gunwale of the boat joining an old, bent and haggard looking man. Smiling the prince looked up at an old man who was standing there. Not noticing the boy, the old man stared with a vacant gaze as the shoreline slip past.
Trying to get the old man’s attention, the prince pulled on the man's gray cloak. "Sir?" The man looked down with haunted eyes.
"Are you my grandfather?" asked the prince. "I heard mother saying that you are."
He blinked. "Grandfather? I don't think so. I am Conrad. That is what I have been told is my name. It is a good name, too. What is yours?"
"I am Horik," the boy smiled up at Conrad. To Horik, Conrad was not the man driven crazy by Torcull nor was he the king. To Horik, Conrad was the grandfather he had never known or at least could not remember.
Conrad's eyes narrowed, "Jerran? Is that you? Where have you been? I have been looking all over for you!"
Horik looked confused. "No," he said shaking his head. "I am Horik. Jerran is my father, the king."
Conrad frowned, "Jerran?" he repeated as if he had not heard the boy, "Why did you do it?"
"Jerran is not here," Horik insisted.
"Oh," sighed the old man. "You look like... Would you drink some tea with me?"
"I don't think mother would let me, but it was kind of you to ask."
"I like tea."
"Why do you look so sad?" asked Horik with the honesty of a child.
For a moment Conrad's eyes softened, and the haunted look upon his face faded.
"Horik?" he said after a moment's silence. "You are Horik?"
"Yes."
"So many lost years..." The man who was once king began to show through. A tear touched his wrinkled check. "Horik," he repeated to himself. "Yes, I am your grandfather. I remember now. Sometimes I do. It hurts to remember.”
Horik smiled, but Conrad's mind was gone again. The king turned away. Once more he stared at the passing shoreline. Horik did not seem to mind. Smiling, he took his grandfather’s hand and together they stood and watched the world slide by.
--
"What?!"
The boy before Torcull cowered. "The k.. king wishes y... your immediate p... presence."
"Get out!" demanded Torcull. The boy turned, stumbling, as he ran for the door.
--
Pacing across the throne room, King Jerran mumbled angrily to himself as he waited for the prophet.
When Torcull arrived, he found the door open. Without announcing himself, he entered the throne room with long strides of an angry man. Closely followed by a pair of Black Priests of the Severed Head, Torcull held his hands clasped tightly behind his back. As he entered the room, he came to a quick stop that nearly caused the two black-robed priests to crash into his back. The temple priests quickly adjusted and flanked out to the sides of the Prophet as Torcull crossed his arms across his chest and stood scowling at the king who passed before the Eagle thrown.
Taking a deep breath, Torcull transformed himself into the image of tranquility and calm.
“Your Majesty,” he called, his voice echoing in the spacious room.
Jerran looked up. "Oh. You are here." The king stopped his nervous pacing and turned to face the three black-robed men.
"You wished to see me?" Torcull's voice was soft, yet there was a controlled harshness to it. Then as an afterthought, he added,... "Sire."
The king did not seem to notice the tension in the Prophet's voice. "Yes. I have had some disturbing news. A misunderstanding, I am sure. However, it has been reported to me that you have sent a part of my army north. Is that true?"
"Who told you that?"
Jerran sat down in his throne. "I do not rely solely on you for my information. Tell me, Torcull, is it true?"
"Yes."
Jerran crossed his arms across his chest. "Then you did send them? Without asking me first?"
"I said I did," Torcull replied coolly. "It was necessary."
"Necessary!? It was necessary to act behind my back?"
"Not behind your back, sire, but in your best interest." Torcull took a step closer to the king. "It is my duty to see to your interests."
"And what interest do I have in the north? I already control the northern half of Kambrya."
"It is imperative that we capture Lord Ruan before he can cause any more trouble."
"What do you mean?" King Jerran looked down at the Prophet. "Ruan is here in the palace."
"No sire, he is not. The lord has quit the city and is fleeing to the north."
"Fleeing!?" Jerran's voice grew louder. "From who? Me!? That is ridiculous! He was not ordered to stay in the city. Ruan can come and go as he likes. What
's going on here, Torcull? I am the king! Not you! I alone send out the army! If Ruan wishes to return to the north, then he may go with my blessings. I have lost too many friends already." Jerran finally noticed the priests, but just as quickly dismissed them from his mind. The king had grown used to seeing priests of the Severed Head accompanying the Prophet. "What do you have to say for yourself, Torcull? What reason have you for going behind my back?"
"I needed to act quickly, sire. Ruan has done more than quit the capital. He has also kidnapped your wife and your son." Torcull left out that he also had the true king, Conrad with him. However, Jerran did not know Torcull had imprisoned and had been torturing his father. Jerran still believed his father had passed away of natural causes.
"What!?" Jerran looked shocked, as he leaped out of the eagle throne.
"Ruan, your trusted friend, has kidnapped the queen and prince and has fled to the North. Already he has had a full day's head start. He will reach Keloran long before we can catch him. If we do not hurry, the whole north will rise up against you. But fear not my lord, I will stop him and bring your son safely home.”
The king shook his head. "There must be some mistake.” Jerran’s paused, his anger was now replaced with confusion and sadness. Two days they have been gone, and I had not noticed. “Ruan would not harm Catriono or Horik."
"But he will, your Majesty if he is not stopped. He will instigate a civil war. The land must be unified under a High King. It must! Only then will the prophecy be fulfilled."
"Prophecy?"
"Never mind. It is none of your concern. However, Ruan must be stopped. He is a traitor, and I plan to make an example of that one. And he has also stolen something of mine,... something that gave me pleasure, and I will have that back as well."
Jerran sat back down. "What are you talking about? There is still something wrong here, Torcull. Ruan a traitor? It is hard to believe. Ruan kidnapping my family? If I did not know you better, I would think you are hiding something from me."
"Believe me, your majesty, he has betrayed you and betrayed the kingdom."
"It is not that I disbelieve you, Torcull. However, there must be some misunderstanding. Ruan would not do this to me."
"You must believe it, your majesty."
"No, I will not. I will not believe it until I see Ruan myself." Jerran looked down at the tiled floor. For a moment, he was silent then the king said, "I will go to Keloran myself. I will take my boat and catch up to the army. Then I will personally lead the army to the north.” The king looked up, meeting the Prophets eyes. "Ruan will not fight me, and I will then get to the truth."
"No! You will not!... Sorry, your majesty," Torcull gave a short bow. "I forget myself, but you cannot go to the north. You are needed here to guide the attack on Mythra. I have sent a Red Monk with five thousand of your men. That should be enough to contain Keloran. We will put an end to this traitor, and it will not slow down the attack of Mythra. The Black Army will be ready."
"You overstep yourself, Torcull. I know you mean well. But I am the king, and I will go to Keloran. Mythra can wait." Jerran started stepped forward slowly descending the stairs from the thrown. "Call the steward. I need to prepare for my departure. If I hurry, I should be able to catch up with the army in a few days."
"No!" said Torcull with an uncharacteristic harsh tone. "The attack on Mythra cannot wait! It will not wait!"
Shocked, Jerran stopped halfway down the steps. "No? I said get the steward! Are you opposing me, Torcull?"
"If I must."
"I am your king!"
Torcull laughed, coming to a final decision. A decision he had long been waiting for, the fool king had become a liability that needed neutralizing. "You have never been a king. I am the true power. I rule all of Kambrya. You see, I no longer need you, Jerran. I need a High King to rule over Kambrya, but there are other ways and other choices. I can find a new High King. I have had enough of this; enough of you. You are becoming a nuisance to me. I do not have the time nor the desire to nursemaid you any longer! The three eyes of the Buachaille draw closer. The time is coming."
"What madness is this?"
"You are a fool! A fool that has outlived his usefulness. It is time you were put aside."
"Guards!" Jerran yelled. "Guards!"
Torcull gave a bitter laughed, "You have no guards. There is no one to hear you, except those who are loyal to me. As I said, I now rule Kambrya just as I rule this castle. I have actually ruled for some time. And now I will be your regent."
"You are mad! You cannot rule as regent unless I am..." A cold shiver ran down Jerran's spine. "In the name of the Three Gods, what have I done?" Jerran sank down to the steps, his head held in his shaking hands. "Ruan, forgive me. You were right."
Again, Torcull laughed. "There are no Three Gods. There is only Bail. And yes, Ruan was right. Only now that it is too late, you finally see the truth and even now you see but a part of it. I would have made you a great king. But you are too weak for such greatness so you will be put aside." Torcull turned to the priests. "Hold him!"
The two black cloaked priests stepped forward into the dim light and seized the king. Their grip was like cold steel. With no hesitation, they dragged the king to his feet and forced him back into the eagle throne. King Jerran struggled, but he could not break free.
"What are you doing?" He demanded. "Release me! I AM YOUR KING!"
Showing no emotions, the two priests ignored the king's orders. Jerran looked into their eyes. "Let me..!" Horrified, he tried to recoil from them. He saw that the priest's eyes were empty voids. Like lost souls, they stared into nothing. Standing next to a table, Torcull lifted a silver vessel and smiled. "They serve me well. It is a shame that I cannot do the same to you. But to do so, one must give themselves freely to my master." He poured a dark red colored wine into a large pewter goblet. "I believe this was always your favorite vintage."
Slowly Torcull pulled a small leather pouch from inside of his robe, he then inserted two fingers and pulled out a pinch of fine green powder. Adding the powder to the wine, the Prophet turned to face Jerran. "That should be enough. I would not be pleased if you were to die on me too soon. You still have a part to play."
Swirling the goblet, Torcull mixed in the powder, his cold blue eyes never left those of the king's. "You see, I need your death to be slow and to look natural. There are still some who are loyal to you. But your own physicians will say there was nothing anyone could do. It is a shame that it must end this way. Until now, you have been ideal. But I always figured this day would come. I thought when it did, your son Horik could take your place, but Ruan has interfered with that. But in the end, it will not matter. Soon I will have him back." Taking his left hand, he grabbed hold of the dark red ruby that always hung around his neck. He held it over the goblet and spoke three strange alien sounding words. At once, the ruby began to glow and pulse like a beating heart. As the last word died on Torcull's mouth, a blood shaped teardrop fell from the ruby, and into the goblet. The wine-like concoction began to boil, as a black smoke rolled over the cup's lip. "So, I must take other measures," Torcull smiled. “You can understand that?"
"This is madness, Torcull!" Jerran's eyes were wide with fear. "You cannot do this!"
Torcull smiled. "Of course, I can."
"I am your king!"
"You keep saying that. But, I have a greater master. And he is calling me to him. He wishes to be free."
"Please, Torcull!"
"Drink this!" ordered Torcull.
"I will not."
Torcull nodded to the priests.
Clutching a hand full of the king's hair, one of the priests yanked Jerran's head backward. The other priest held the king's nose closed. Forcing his mouth open, Torcull poured the bubbling liquid down his throat. The king coughed and sputtered, trying to spit out the liquid, yet in the end, the king drank the foul concoction.
Torcull stepped back. "It is done." The two priests let go of Jerran.
Jerran struggled to his feet, then fell back into the throne. He looked at Torcull. "Why ...?" Things began to blur and spin, making his head hurt. "What have you done to me?" His throat felt sore, and his voice sounded hoarse.
Torcull smiled, "Go fetch the steward," he told one of the priests. "I fear the king has taken ill."
Jerran coughed.
"So ends Jerran, High King of Kambrya, long live King Horik.” Torcull’s gaze burned with triumph, "No, you are not dying, at least not yet.” He replied to the horrified look upon the king’s face. “However, your days of being king are over. You will soon become feverish and lose your voice completely. You will become very ill and find that you are always tired. Slowly, you will get worse until finally your heart grows too weak and you will die. You have a month,... maybe two. By then your son will be back here. For a while, and with my help, you will even be able to walk out onto the balcony," Torcull nodded at the curtains that covered the glass doors, "so the ignorant masses can see their beloved High King. But it will be I who rules from hereon. A king as sick as you are about to be will need his rest. So, as your appointed regent, I will rule. Then when you are dead, your son will be the next High King and will take your place. But still, I will be regent, after all, your son is but a child who'll need a caring regent to watch over him and the kingdom. Then I will find the lost crown of Kambrya and make me a true High King. One who will set my true lord free.” Jerran coughed again. He felt like his throat was on fire.
"Run, Ruan," he whispered hoarsely. "... Protect my family. Protect my son."
--
Night descended over Aonach.
Hiding in an alleyway behind several large barrels, Colin looked over his shoulder at Pallas. "Are you mad?" he whispered. "We have been avoiding patrols all night long, and now you want to walk right up to the temple's gate, and say 'here we are'? 'We would like to see the prince if you do not mind'?"
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