The King's Defense

by Shawn Robert Smith

  Markus gave him a confused look. “Just because you don’t like her doesn’t mean she’s Decayed.”

  Linette rolled her eyes. “He’s been saying that since we questioned the guard’s bunkmate. He said he saw Aurora talking to Meek and after that, he began acting weird.”

  “Meek?” Markus asked.

  “The guard that caused the Decayed body to disappear,” Linette said.

  “Think about it. She denies the Decayed rise to power, she’d gain the throne if Luther died, she seemed friendly with Death, and she spoke with the guard before we arrived. Why would a Council member speak with a brand new guard?”

  “How do you know she’ll take command if the King dies?” Linette asked.

  “My foster mom had me read A History of Kings and Queens to help expand my vocabulary. The Order of the Lion almost always holds the throne in Claybury. It’s tied into their natural leadership abilities. When he or she dies, the Council member of the Order of the Ox takes his or her place until an election is held. The Ox are seen as sturdy in a time of transition. The Order of the Lion reclaims its command nine times out of ten, but some members of the Order of the Ox have held it.”

  Markus assumed the look on Linette’s face was one of amazement.

  “Maybe they are related or she’s mentoring him for a friend?” Markus asked.

  “Knilin helped him find his job as a guard, so that’s not as likely,” Linette helped.

  “Somehow the Decayed in this castle convinced Zyadrin to turn traitor. Recall that Zyadrin belonged to the Order of the Ox and trained under Aurora. So far, the only order we’ve seen turn traitor belongs to the Ox. I hope my Order stays otherwise pure, but time will tell.”

  “Your concerns are valid, but we need more than that, Winthrop,” Markus said.

  Markus saw this behavior in Winthrop before. When Linette’s father revoked the marriage between him and Linette, Winthrop went on a tirade about Geoff’s character. He even brought up Geoff’s abuse of Linette. Winthrop’s parents warned him sternly not to make such accusations unless he had proof. Winthrop confronted Geoff and received a slap to the face that knocked Winthrop off the porch and into a pool of mud. His bruised face brought him sympathy from Linette until it faded. Winthrop almost tried it again but knew it didn’t really help Linette.

  “Aurora leads the Order that protects the King. She has the power to tell them to stand down and allow someone to attack him.”

  “She’d never take the Throne under such an obvious attack,” Markus said.

  “Then, she’ll sabotage the King’s guard somehow. She knows their routines and where they sleep. The King stays under guard all the time, but the guards remain exposed at all times. Attacking them stops their magic that protects the King.”

  Markus agreed with Winthrop. His point showed a weakness in the King’s detail. “They must have backups.”

  Winthrop grinned, “Yes, all who are under Aurora’s tutelage. I’m not saying the assassin can walk in and kill the King. With or without protection, he can fight back and so can his non-wielders. I’m going to warn the King about this. Aurora doesn’t have to know.”

  Markus couldn’t stop him. Linette wouldn’t. It probably reminded her of when Winthrop stood up to her father—the one thing she loved about him.

  Day 3 - Evening

  Winthrop left the dungeons, leaving Markus and Linette behind. Their reluctance to agree with his theory annoyed him, but something bothered him about Aurora. He refused to ignore it. Telling King Luther his concerns hurt no one. He’d do that later. First, he had a nurse to meet.

  He wandered down a nearby hallway, believing the library entrance sat here. He found the library and was stopped by a guard. Three guards huddled by the door, each with a menacing look.

  “Name?” the largest guard asked him. His stubble looked as sharp as the dagger that the second guard used to pick dirt from his fingernails.

  “Winthrop of Pinemere.”

  The guard checked his scroll until he found the name. It took a minute as he had to unroll it down to the letter “W.” He motioned Winthrop to enter. His footsteps echoed loudly off the stone steps. The library was kept underground, like the prison. It looked as if someone had dug out rock until they created a large room. Several holes littered the ceilings, allowing a slight movement of air to flow into the cavernous place. Candles were strategically placed and sheltered in glass enclosures to mitigate the risk of anything catching fire. Below each candle sat a small bucket of water. The front part of the library contained tables for studying. Beyond that stood several rows of bookshelves that extended as far as he could see in the low light.

  The only noise Winthrop heard came from the librarian turning a page every minute or so. Other than that, he only heard his thoughts. He wondered if the nurse would come and what she’d tell him.

  Winthrop heard a door open. He turned around to see the nurse enter. She wore a cloak, hiding her identity to anyone who might see her from a distance. She walked passed him down one of the rows, signaling to him with her hand. He picked up the request and ventured down a different row, hoping that he’d be able to cross over farther down. He walked a few hundred paces, stopping when someone from the other side pushed a book on the bottom shelf onto the floor. He quickened his pace to reach it. When he did he heard the rustle of the nurse’s cloak as she ran back to the entrance.

  Winthrop picked up the book and read its title: A History of Plagues and Illnesses. He opened it and it naturally turned to a specific page. Winthrop began reading.

  Year: 2979 Illness: Unknown Location: small village south of Gluon Signed: Dr. Buford Darg

  I came to the village when the Council of Magic requested my expertise on an illness that had plagued this city. Within a few months, the sickness took a dozen people. Many in the town believed the people had been bitten by a Zeethr, but I assured them that they were only a myth. I received several ideas of how the victims were exposed to the sickness from the drinking water to the spirit of a Kikurn that died there fifty years ago. Both were unlikely given that everyone drank from the same well and because the dead don’t haunt us.

  Those who contracted the disease perspire profusely, requiring lots of water to maintain hydration. Over a day or two, they begin to bleed from their eye sockets and then succumb to a coma. A day after that, they die—I believe from internal bleeding. I tried speaking to one before her eyes began to bleed, but she only mumbled and I failed to understand what she tried to convey.

  I failed to discover the root cause of this, yet the plague ceased shortly after my arrival and no one else died from it. I wanted to study it further, but an outbreak of the flu in Claybury required my immediate attention.

  Year: 2980 Illness: Unknown Location: Cordun Signed: Dr. Buford Darg

  I had hoped to never see this plague again. Nine villagers died from this prior to my arrival and three more while I was there. All three of them carried the same symptoms as before—they sweat for a day or so when they then begin to bleed from their eyes. They enter a coma and then die. Each of them remained in a delusional state of mind, mumbling gibberish. After the tenth victim died, I began bringing in the families when a new person caught the disease. At this point, I felt comfortable that it wouldn’t pass from one person to another. I left the families alone but asked them to relay to me any coherent words the patient said. I didn’t expect anything, but a young boy, I believe the victim’s nephew, walked up to me and handed me a card. He didn’t say anything, but handed it to me and left. The Orders has been around since I was a young lad, so I recognized what it was immediately, although I hadn’t played in years. The card showed a picture of Belinda the White—a well-known wielder known for her ability in stopping the flow of dams. She had died a couple years ago. Oddly enough, I believe she died when one of her dams failed. This detail never led me to solve the riddle of this sickness, but something about it felt ominous and important, so I mention it here. I failed again to cure anyone of th
is, losing the remaining villagers that had caught it. No one else contracted it and an outbreak of Boson fever in Trepin forced me to leave.

  The second entry shook-up Winthrop. Cordun was the village his dad supposedly saved from the Decayed. This happened well before his father visited Cordun and even before the Order of Man turned into the Decayed. Winthrop turned a few pages, looking for any more entries, but the next few pages only discussed illnesses Winthrop was familiar with. The information intrigued him, but what did it really tell him? He stopped by the librarian and asked where he’d find information on a member of the Order of the Eagle. She guided him to a section that contained histories and details of each order. Winthrop scoured through, looking for any reference to her. He searched for hours, but found nothing. Empty-handed, he left for bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Day 3 - Night

  Linette settled into her lodgings at the Order of the Eagle headquarters. She needed some rest from the whirlwind of emotions that flowed through her mind. Her father looking for her brought back anxiety and fear that she hoped to leave in Pinemere. Markus testing as a Decayed filled her with guilt and sadness. Her magical talent gave her the opportunity she needed to leave her father behind. His brought shame and loneliness. Even if his father took him back, he’d never marry. No one wanted to marry a former Decayed, even if the appropriate fingers were removed. It wasn’t fair to Markus or fair to the lovely woman that might have married him.

  Her thoughts refused to allow her sleep, so she wandered the building. She ran into Joanna and asked her if she could train her. She agreed and they went to the courtyard to practice.

  “Focus on your emotions. Feel your hope bubble up inside of you. Imagine the sphere in your palm and give it size and depth. Move your right hand up, to the right, and down. Release the sphere.”

  Linette did as Joanna said. Practicing her magic helped her ignore the other emotions that flooded her mind like a river with a broken dam. She released the sphere and aimed it at a rock that rested on the edge of the outer walls. The rock fell off the ledge and she stopped it in mid-air. She managed the same movements with her left and another rock stopped its descent next to the first.

  “Release your emotions.”

  Linette did so and the rocks fell to the ground.

  “Perfect. You’re a natural at this.”

  Linette smiled. “What are the limits of levitating objects?”

  “Master Dulius says there are no limits, but the limits you put on yourself. Part of your training here includes physical training. When you are in peak physical shape, you’ll lift much heavier objects and create larger shifts in gravity.”

  She tried the weave again. This time, she aimed the sphere at a larger rock, about the size of a pine cone. It fell and then hovered at eye-level.

  “Yes, with more training, you’ll move mountains,” Joanna beamed at Linette.

  Joanna lifted the pine cone sized rock to her eye-level, moving it around until she made a complete circle. Linette noticed movement in her peripheral vision, causing her to look to her right. Her father walked toward them with menace in his eyes. Joanna released the magic, dropping the large rock to the floor. Linette’s heart rate increased, perspiration filling her pores.

  “You’re coming home, Linette,” Geoff commanded. His posture said that he wouldn’t take any answer other than yes.

  Linette put space between them that her father reclaimed moments later. “No,” Linette said.

  Geoff’s face cringed in anger. He reached for her. She reacted like when in Pinemere — she closed her eyes and huddled down, bracing for his impact. It repulsed her, but a part of her felt like she deserved his punishment—she had disobeyed him. Coming here also brought the danger of her father on the Order. She waited for the pain to come.

  Nothing happened.

  She opened her eyes, finding her father floating in the air. Joanna held him there, her father looked pale from fright.

  “Put me down!”

  “No, let’s go have a talk with the headmaster,” Joanna said.

  Joanna held Geoff with her magic, bringing him inside. Another Order member lifted Linette so she could follow Joanna inside. She allowed a smile to form on her face.

  Day 3 - Night

  Markus tried to sleep in his cell, but he’d been restless since the testing. The best he managed was around three hours of sleep the night before. Other than that, he’d tossed and turned. He directed this frustration at the Creator or God or whatever people called him. Why did he bother putting him here, just to ruin his life? He had no control over his abilities as a Decayed. It was his lot in life. The dice rolled him a bad combination. God put this burden on him.

  Part of his restlessness came from his frustration that the Council of Light labeled him as evil when he’d never done anything remotely wrong. Yes, he’d stolen Mrs. Beasley’s apple pie from her window sill a few years back, but that didn’t make him a thief—it made him a teenage boy.

  The guard walked into view. “You have a visitor. No funny business.”

  Markus thought the guard spoke to him, but then saw Blacksmith Moran. If anyone claimed the talent to break him out of here, it was Moran. His knowledge of metals and structures like a cell made him an expert in their weak spots. Markus had ideas from his personal experience working with metals, but he also wore chains.

  “I assure you, I won’t break him out of here. I only want to impart some advice.”

  Markus stood up to listen.

  “I don’t envy your position, Markus. You face a difficult choice. I come to give you my humble opinion and an offer. No matter what you choose, I think your father will have a difficult time with it. He’ll accept you at home, but the shame will burden him. If you stay here, at least he won’t have to see the sign of your shame each day,” Moran glanced at Markus’s hands.

  Markus loved his father and his father loved him. They had a deep connection that revolved around Markus’s talents. Markus made it easy for his dad to be proud of him. Now that they’d label him as Decayed, he feared that it would strain his relationship.

  “If you’d like to remain a blacksmith, but save your father the burden of having a Decayed, then come apprentice under me. I’d train you and give you a decent life.”

  The offer seemed a mercy. Another way out for him. All of this was unfair, but at least Markus had a few offers to choose from. In another time, they might have just killed him.

  “Thank you, Moran. I’ll think it over.”

  “Have some hope, Markus. Your life is far from over.” Moran looked to see that the guards weren’t paying attention and removed his gloves, revealing that he had no middle finger on both hands.

  Markus’s eyes shot up to look at his. “You’re Decayed?”

  Moran’s face tensed, his eyes began to water. “Shhhh. Was. When members of the Order of Man began to turn, I didn’t want it to happen to me. I cut off the fingers myself, changed my name and took up metal-working. I made the choice a long time ago and a kind old man took me under his wing like I hope to do for you. Please keep it between us. I’d lose some important commissions if people knew.”

  Moran put his gloves back on and left.

  Markus had two more days to decide. Moran’s offer sat at the top of his short list.

  Day - 4 Morning

  Winthrop climbed the stairs until he reached the floor that held the administrative rooms of the castle. A hallway with many doors led to a large wooden door with the King’s seal on it. Along the way, guards stood at attention every dozen paces. Before Winthrop could enter the hallway, Thomas the clerk from their first meeting sat at a desk that blocked most of the hallway entrance. Winthrop viewed the gray of his hair as the clerk wrote on a scroll, making scratching noises with his quill. His white gloves lay on the desk next to him, revealing that the clerk only had two and a half fingers—his thumb, index finger and a stub of his middle on his right hand. Winthrop couldn’t help but stare.

  “I
lost my fingers when I was young and foolish. I seemed to think it safe to play with a Kithnop. I learned better. Now, you can stop leering.”

  The old man’s eyes had an intensity to them, like a combination of restlessness and impatience.

  “I’d like to have an audience with the King,” Winthrop said in a confident voice.

  The clerk continued with his task, not even sparing Winthrop another glance. “The King is booked this week, he might fit you in next week.”

  “But it’s urgent.”

  “Everyone’s request to speak with his eminence is urgent.”

  Winthrop considered making a run for it, but the guards stood in his way. He thought he’d try another tactic.

  “Thank you,” Winthrop said and walked over to the left of the large desk. The clerk sat in the middle of the large desk and if Winthrop timed it right, the clerk might not notice him walk past. Every forty seconds or so, he turned to his right to refill his quill. The guards might assume the clerk allowed him to pass. Winthrop took his chance.

  The clerk continued scribbling and the guards didn’t move to stop him. He made it twenty feet when he heard the clerk turn around.

  “Where do you think you are going?”

  Winthrop cursed under his breath.

  “To see the King.”

  “I told you next week.”

  The nearest guards left their post, blocking his path. Winthrop saw his window of opportunity close. Yet, he tried his magic again. It worked. He encased the two guards near him in a bubble, stopping their approach. The remaining guards fell into place, giving him less room to pass them. More guards filled in the space near the exit, giving him no way out. They began to converge on him from several angles. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he enclosed himself in the biggest bubble he thought manageable. The muffled sounds of guards ordering him to leave made him chuckle. They began to whack at his bubble with their swords with little result. At some point, he’d need to leave, but he hoped when King Luther saw this monstrosity, he’d give Winthrop the audience he desired.