Journey of Wisdom

by Shawna Thomas

  He turned.

  Cassia scooted up in bed. Her expression folded in on itself. Tears misted her eyes. She glanced down at the bedding and swallowed. When she looked up at him, sorrow shone from her gaze. “I have had little to do lately but think. I want you to know. I think I maybe misjudged you. I wish it could have been different. I’d have liked a brother. A family.”

  Regret punched a hole in his chest. He wanted to offer her assurances, tell her everything would be okay, but it would be a lie and she would know it. There had been too many lies already. He briefly closed his eyes. “Me too, Cassia.”

  He shut the door behind him.

  A strong hand wrapped around his face. He opened his mouth to scream and tasted dust and salt.

  He struggled, but another hand tightened around his body. His heart beat staccato. The arm was covered in fur. A Rugian. Bredych. His stomach hollowed.

  He struggled harder, attempting to kick at the man behind him. His captor lifted him off his feet. The scent of greasy fur and unwashed body turned his stomach.

  “Well, what do we have here?” a voice laced with a Rugian accent asked.

  Aclan searched for a way of escape. He tried to bite the hand covering his mouth, and the Rugian laughed.

  “I’d say it was a traitorous prince, if you asked me,” another voice answered.

  * * *

  Meryn nodded to her. Together, with his standard bearer, they stepped in front of his army. In a loud voice, Meryn, as Elston’s representative, accused Erhard of breaking a treaty with Elston and asked him to surrender to Isolden. No response issued from the castle. But none had been expected. The army grew restless. Meryn signaled the siege engines. Ilythra moved forward, pointing out the areas where she knew the wall to be weak. Meryn narrowed his eyes but followed her instruction, mumbling about Siobani magic.

  Men moved forward, hauling giant logs doused with flammable liquid. A torch retrieved from a bonfire set the missile on fire moments before it hurled through the air. The giant log almost seemed to move in slow motion, then another followed its progression, and another. A crash sounded behind the wall, and everything sped. Men shouted. The castle threw spears but they were still out of range and the missiles pierced the ground well in front of the army. Flames shot up over the stone walls as roofs caught fire.

  Meryn shouted, and Isolden men picked up ladders and rushed forward into a shower of spears. Each truncated cry pierced Ilythra’s heart. The surviving men leaned the ladders against the castle walls. Almost as quickly, defenders pushed them away. Men fell screaming to their deaths. Spears rattled against upturned shields, followed by the clash of steel on steel. Ilythra moved Melior along the ranks. The cavalry held back, waiting for word to surge forward. She could almost feel the suppressed energy behind her. She searched the castle walls through Teann, looking for a way in, and waited for Bredych to counter her—for any indication he was within the walls. But besides the steady, irregular hum of Crioch, he was silent. Something was wrong.

  * * *

  Bredych walked into the throne room. The steady boom of projectiles hitting the walls vibrated through the castle. Servants, officials and various dignitaries stood around the room, wringing their hands and looking anywhere from nervous to terrified.

  He didn’t spare the court of Greton more than a glance. She was using the stone. He almost wished he had time to analyze his emotions. He was a strange mixture of furious and proud. But fear didn’t enter the equation. He’d been waiting for this moment. He planned to enjoy it.

  He would let the Isolden army have its twinkling of victory, because the state of the outer walls didn’t matter. In the end, the decks were stacked in his favor and would remain so.

  The sound of a scuffle sounded in the hall outside the room.

  Bredych smiled and sat on the throne. “And here we have our young prince.”

  Two Rugians dragged a struggling Aclan between them. Several of the members of court and a few guards gasped.

  “Now, now, child. Settle down.” Bredych leaned against the throne.

  Aclan stared at him with a look of pure loathing.

  Bredych smiled. He hadn’t thought the hapless prince had it in him. Bravo. He tapped his fingers against the throne’s arm. “I have heard things that break my heart, young prince. Are you really so eager for the throne that you would conspire against your own father?”

  “You lie!” Aclan spat. “It is you who are trying to take my father’s throne.”

  Bredych composed an expression of pained surprise. “Everyone knows I’ve been loyal to this family since before your father was born.” He lowered his voice. “You know, your mother had fits like this too. She had to be confined to her quarters the later part of her short life.” He bit back the smile. “Until she escaped and ran into a Rugian.”

  The prince’s eyes narrowed.

  “You didn’t know. Well, it was probably determined that your delicate ears couldn’t handle such truth.” Bredych stood and spread his arms. “I stand in the place of your father until he recovers from his current illness. That you would try to take his throne while he suffers in his bed is the lowest of crimes.”

  “He suffers because you make him suffer!” Aclan’s face reddened with emotion.

  So the prince did know too much. He modulated his tone, added just the right touch of hurt. “Me? Your Highness. If I had the power to ease your father’s pain, I would do so immediately.” He took a step closer to Aclan. The prince met his gaze. “But you. You have been sneaking around the castle, associating with known traitors to the throne.”

  Aclan’s nostrils flared. “Cassia is no traitor.”

  “So, you admit it.” Bredych walked a few paces away and turned to face the crowd. He lifted his palms to the air. “And she is a traitor. I have heard her confession just this morning. With witnesses. She is scheduled to be executed this afternoon.”

  Aclan gasped. “You can’t do that!”

  “Oh, but I can. And I must. It is the law.”

  Teann flared with Ilydearta’s music. He needed to cut this short and determine what Ilythra was doing. He let his gaze fall on a trio of men standing near a column. “You, keepers of the law. What is the penalty for treason?”

  The men visibly shrank.

  Bredych let a touch of shock enter his voice. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re in collusion with the prince?”

  “N-no, my lord Bredych.” One of the men stepped forward but didn’t look toward the prince. “The penalty is death.”

  Bredych gasped. “For even a prince?”

  “A swift death,” amended the keeper of the law.

  “Oh, but he is so young.” Regret tinged his words. “That seems rather...” He tapped his chin then spun to stare at Aclan. “Harsh. Dear prince, repent of your actions. Swear your loyalty to me and the throne, and all will be forgiven.”

  Aclan resumed his struggle against the Rugian holding him captive. His face reddened further. “You son of a whore. How dare you!”

  The sound of boots running down the corridor sounded in the chamber. Aclan’s tutor rushed into the room and slid to a stop, staring at the prince. Aclan’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

  “Ah, the tutor.” Bredych shook his head sadly. “It seems you are derelict in your duties. You should have been teaching our prince of honor and loyalty.” He hardened his voice. “What were you teaching him?”

  “He is a scholar and knows nothing about palace intrigue,” Aclan said.

  “Perhaps you do know something about loyalty.” Bredych stepped forward until he was an arm’s distance from the prince. “Too bad it is misplaced. You see, I have discovered that your tutor studied under another known traitor, Rothit.”

  Bredych waved his hand, and two Rugians drew their swords, herding the tutor against the wal
l. He would deal with him later.

  “Rothit was no traitor.” Aclan reared back and spit in Bredych’s face.

  Bredych wiped the spittle away and took a deep breath to compose his features. He turned to those gathered. “It is a sad state of affairs. There is an army outside our gates, while our king lies fighting for his life in a chamber upstairs. Our prince, here—” he waved a hand toward Aclan, “—has been communicating with known and confessed traitors, often leaving the castle grounds with just his tutor. Do you think it’s a coincidence that we are now under siege?”

  The men and women glanced to one another. A few cast angry looks toward Aclan.

  He turned back to Aclan. “Whom do you know in Isolden? Did they promise you the throne? They lied. Yet I am a compassionate man. For the love I have your father, I give you one more chance. Swear your allegiance.”

  Aclan’s chin rose. “I am loyal only to my father.”

  “And yet your father put me in his place until his return to health. You must swear your loyalty to the crown and him, who sits on the throne.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Bredych saw the tutor lunge forward, only to be stopped by one of the Rugians.

  Aclan straightened his shoulders. “Never.”

  “You heard it yourselves. It grieves me to give the order.” He turned to the Rugian holding him. “Kill him. Make it swift and merciful.”

  “No!” Erhard stumbled into the room.

  Bredych froze in shock. The king shouldn’t even be walking.

  Erhard’s tunic was wrinkled and his feet were bare, but he wore his sword. “Leave my son alone.”

  Bredych found his voice. “The king is raving. Guards, take him back to his room.”

  The guards hesitated.

  “Now.” Bredych stared at them, putting his will behind the command.

  Three guards moved toward the king. Erhard drew his sword and swung it wildly. The guards jumped back.

  “Why send your lackeys after me, Bredych?” the king panted. His silver hair fell in strands around his face. His pale eyes shone with madness. “Afraid to fight me yourself?”

  Bredych glanced to the Rugians. That was too close to a challenge. The Rugians glanced back and forth among themselves. “I do not wish any harm to come to you. I am afraid your son has grown eager for your throne.”

  Erhard stilled then shook his head. “Lies!” he yelled. Spittle clung to his lips. “I challenge you for my son, for my throne, for my people. Draw your sword.”

  Bredych shook his head. He stared at the king. How was he even walking? He kept his voice even. That was a challenge, and he couldn’t lose face in front of the Rugians. “Why must you make me do this?”

  “Because I will not see Aclan die.” Erhard stared at his son then lunged forward. Bredych easily blocked the thrust.

  “You are sick. Let me take you back to your bed. I can make you some tea.”

  “Defend yourself,” Erhard yelled. His pale skin darkened with rage.

  Bredych took a deep breath. He had no choice. Perhaps it was better this way anyway. With three strokes, the king’s sword spun out of his hand.

  “Aclan, run!” the king yelled.

  The prince jerked free from the Rugian and sprinted down the hall.

  “After him,” Bredych called.

  Four Rugians started after the boy. Several guards stood in their way. Swords clashed.

  Bredych stared down at the king, letting the derision show on his face. “You are pitiful.” He turned.

  A blow hit the back of his knee. He fell to the floor and rolled to a side. The king scrabbled for his sword. Bredych waited. When the king charged, he lifted his blade and stood. The sword sunk through the king’s stomach.

  Bredych pulled him close. “You sniveling fool. Now I have your death and your son’s, and no one will question me. You’ve just given me your kingdom.”

  He let the king’s body fall to the floor. He turned, focused his will and with a wave of his hand threw the remaining guards against the wall. His Rugians stood in shock, their swords still raised. The Greton court huddled together.

  “Go after the boy!” Bredych commanded. He turned to those gathered. “You saw for yourself. The king had gone mad. I merely defended myself. We are under siege. Go to your stations or seek your rooms, but be gone.”

  The room emptied behind him as Bredych made his way to the towers. Ilydearta was out there. He could hear its song clearly. He had a battle to watch and a defeat to savor.

  * * *

  Aclan raced down the corridor. His heart beat in his ears. He glanced wildly around. Where to hide? Fear coated his throat. He was trapped. A figure stepped in front of him. Speed was his only weapon. He gathered himself to run right through the man.

  “Aclan.”

  The prince skidded to a stop. Konrad.

  The steward’s eyes were wild and his voice urgent. “Go to the room next to Cassia’s. There’s a tunnel behind the tapestry. Take it. Head down. It leads outside the castle walls. I will hold the Rugians off.”

  Shock radiated through his mind. “That’s insane.”

  “You are now king. I serve you, Majesty. Go.” Konrad pushed Aclan down the hall.

  Aclan nodded and did what the steward said. His father had saved him. He could hear the sound of swords clashing. Metal against metal. My father is dead. He swallowed back a burst of sorrow. In the end, his father had loved him. Had defended him. Unshed tears clogged his throat and burned his eyes. He’d feel later. Now he had to live.

  He skidded around a corridor and ran up stairs. Shouts sounded in the distance behind him. The Rugians. He didn’t know what Konrad was going to do to slow them down. Would someone else sacrifice himself for Aclan? Why? Tears blurred his vision. Angrily, he wiped them away. He didn’t know, but he owed the chance of a life to the steward.

  He raced down the hall, skidded to a stop and opened the door next to Cassia’s room. He rushed inside and glanced around for a tapestry. Guilt added weight to the jumble of emotions swirling in his breast. He gasped for air. He hadn’t been able to rescue Cassia’s daughter. What would happen to the child now? He stared at the door. His death wouldn’t help her. If he died, Bredych won. He lifted the tapestry and entered into darkness.

  One thought repeated over and over in his mind. The castle was besieged. If the tunnel led outside the walls, was he racing from death, only to rush into its arms?

  * * *

  Bredych watched the carnage below. It had been long since he’d heard the sound of battle. He thought of other wars, other victories. His people screaming his name. He breathed in the smoke, savored the shouts and screams. The stone under his feet vibrated. Siege engines hurled projectiles against the castle with accuracy. He scanned the attackers. He couldn’t see Ilythra, but he knew she was there. He raised his hand to summon the power of his stone and then dropped it. He didn’t need it to defeat this enemy. He’d outwitted them even before they’d arrived. Let Ilythra practice her ineffectual manipulations with the stone. Soon he would have her plus the stone and he wouldn’t have to weary himself in the process.

  So what should he do with the prince? He grinned. It was the perfect solution. He stared at the Isolden warriors as they advanced. He’d give the prince to them.

  * * *

  Aclan shuddered as his hand ran through a thick web. He’d never experienced darkness such as surrounded him now. He wiped his hand on his leggings and continued his halting progress into the gloom. His fingers lost contact with the wall. Panic surged through his veins. With searching hands, he determined that the tunnel branched. He took a few steps into each branch. One continued on, the other felt like it went slightly down. Every instinct told him to climb up, toward the light. He tried to calculate where he was in relation to the castle but failed. He’d g
one down several stairways and into a cooler dampness that had to be underground.

  Konrad hadn’t led him wrong yet, so he took the path heading farther down. He hadn’t gone far when the something shuffled in the tunnel behind him. Aclan froze. Soft footsteps. Someone was behind him. Rugians. Of course they’d know about these tunnels. It made sense. Aclan looked farther down the tunnel and then back the way he’d come. There was no escape. He could try to outrun whoever followed him, but the thought paralyzed him with fear. Running blindly into the darkness or Rugians? It was a toss-up which could kill him first.

  He pressed himself against the wall in a slight shallow. He’d been practicing hand to hand with Hendrik. It was possible he could take his tracker by surprise and immobilize him long enough to escape. Possible but not likely.

  A darker shape appeared in the distance. Aclan tensed, ready to spring. Three two...

  He froze. “Hendrik?”

  The guard whipped around to face him. “Aclan.” The word sounded loud in the near-silent tunnels.

  His body slumped with relief. “You escaped.”

  “I could say the same for you. Rugians are combing the castle for you. Konrad told me this is where he’d send you if things went bad.”

  The first flicker of doubt entered Aclan’s mind. Could he really trust Hendrik?

  “We have to hurry. It’s only a matter of time before they search these tunnels,” the man urged.

  “How is the battle going outside?”

  “How would I know? Bredych did something that threw us against the wall. When I came to, the hall was almost empty. I headed here.”

  “Do you know the way out?” Aclan asked.

  “We didn’t quite get that far. It wasn’t like we could sit and chat over supper.”

  Aclan nodded. He had to trust someone, and right now, Hendrik seemed the only option. “Konrad said to head down.”

  Hendrik made a noise low in his throat. “Then let’s go. These tunnels are not where I’d like to spend the afterlife.”

  Aclan blinked. It seemed as if they had been traveling the tunnels for at least a day and a night, but he knew outside, the sun was probably only nearing its peak. Weariness weighed Aclan’s limbs. The sound of many feet shuffling against stone came from behind him. Panic surged through his blood, giving him new energy.