Lord Trion spoke, “Have you heard the news of another dead king in Donegal?” Leimur answered, “I have. Hunting accident, so it would seem? I have an uncle who thinks like this new neighbor king. What is his name?” Lord Trion addressed the Queen, “Tersen Wamhoff. Actually he signed the letter, Ali-Tersen. He can attach the regal standard to his name, but the man is still an albino.” “Albino?” Leimur asked.
“Yes, surprisingly he was never sent away. Albinos are bad luck, evil by nature and clearly shunned by the Gods,” the new advisor said. “What else do we know of him?” Leimur wanted to know. “Our sources tell us he has never served in battle, which bodes well for our plans. Apparently, his brother who also died in this mysterious, disputed hunting accident was much fitter to be king. I’m told he is only hanging on to his royal last name and commands little respect from the citizens and lords. He is a privileged man who can barely swing a sword. About as charismatic as a dead fish, most sources report. Another informer tells me his men bow before him and insult him once he is out of earshot. The nobles and his knights only seem to respect the crown upon his head and the implied authority that comes with being king. He was fourth in line for the throne only some thirty odd days ago and now he sits atop the kingdom. Seems like a dangerous man we need to be wary of. Ha, I suppose you are already used to this,” Lord Trion advised with a laugh. Everyone joined him with a chuckle and Leimur spoke, “This does appear to present an advantage. Even though I saw the last king run from me on the battlefield, at least he was there. The man has no military experience?” she asked.
“None, unless it’s the best kept secret on earth. My sources also say the entire Wamhoff family, save the King’s wife and son, have left the Capitol of Donegal after this letter here made its rounds,” Lord Trion said, holding up a rolled paper. “Just tell me what it says,” ordered Leimur. The lord answered quickly, “It states the hunting accident was a cover up for a murder plot to steal the throne of Donegal.” “Someone must have tortured one of the guards?” Leimur guessed. “No, on the hunt, Ali-Tersen killed King Ali-Ster, Ryen Wamhoff and his son, Tryen. His other son, Kryen, escaped and found a sympathetic house to send letters all over the kingdom, notifying many of the treachery,” Lord Trion informed the Queen.
“Now is the perfect time. Their kingdom is split like a roast hog. We will take Donegal back and form a super kingdom. After this pay increase, I trust I can leave for a while. With any luck from the Gods, I will return to triple all your wages again.” Leimur dismissed her council and they started to file out of the room.
Leimur stopped the general, “Could I have a word with you please?” “Of course, my Queen.” He sat back down across from Leimur as she spoke, “I assume you want more than anything to get back to the war with Donegal but you have done such a great job here, I need you to stay.” “No, please, no,” pleaded General Rigby. “I am sorry but I think this life is for you. Perhaps if you mucked several matters I would have to remove you. Or you could step down and join our army as a common soldier,” she said and looked down to hide a smirk. “My Queen, I would never sacrifice Goldenfield out of personal anger but I am not a common…” the general stopped on seeing a sharp-toothed smile from his Queen. “I am going, aren’t I?” the general asked. “Of course, I couldn’t leave you behind twice. You have served your post well and the position will be hard to fill. I am a woman of my word. I said you would come to Donegal and help lead our forces. We will share command again. Did I have you convinced you were staying?” Leimur asked. “I may have started to get a bit annoyed, I must say,” the general tried to hide a smile.
Leimur had never been the joking type. Her relationship with Ali-Tiste had lifted her heart and given her a better sense of humor. She hadn’t shown any interest in the subject before finding she had a knack for using her serious demeanor in jest. The Queen realized the time to joke would be coming to an abrupt end when she left in a few days.
Captains Salina and Tetine entered with Sir Trembley and Sir Areonhart. The door was flung open once more and the petite Ali-Tiste Wamhoff entered in a dress, holding ruffled papers.
Leimur leaned over toward General Rigby, “Military meeting, general, I do hope you can stay.” “It is my duty and honor but what is she doing here?” the general asked, referring to Ali-Tiste. “You will soon find out,” Leimur said and turned to the others, “Please be seated.”
Captain Salina asked, “Did you fool the general, my Queen?” Leimur nodded and said, “I did. He may never come to admit it, but our friend was worried I would make him stay in the palace. I should have removed his weapons. Had you seen the mad look in his eyes when I told him he could resign and enter the army as a common soldier, you’d have done the same. I almost covered my throat before the general lunged for it,” she laughed and everyone else joined in.
“I hope you all remember this when I’m serving up some mud pies on the first rainy day. I’ll reserve one for each and every person in this room,” General Rigby warned with a smirk.
The Queen’s humor came as an unexpected surprise to everyone who had known her since she was a child. She had been projecting a lighter mood of late and others weren’t as nervous being around the normally no-nonsense Queen. Most people still feared her but the external shell of the unapproachable Queen had cracked to expose another side to the complex Leimur Leluc.
She shot a sexy look across the table at Ali-Tiste. Her heart thumped as her lover made eye contact and looked away shyly. Leimur nodded to Ali-Tiste, and her partner laid out maps of Burkeville, covering the majority of the table. The Wamhoff woman had a broad map of the entire region and many more detailed versions of the six districts. She showed her one-time enemy the most beneficial points to hit and which spots to avoid and why. There were marshlands and rough river crossings littered throughout Burkeville, and Ali-Tiste started to prove her worth to her new Queen. In a little over an hour, she comprehensively showed the top military minds of Goldenfield the most direct path to Falconhurst.
“The plan is sound, but we still need to raise our numbers,” Leimur said. General Rigby informed the gathering, “I have put out a call for arms for experienced soldiers now that we have money to pay. Ten thousand free swords have just landed on the southern shores and are marching this way. Add that to our reassembled domestic force and we have enough men to move and make arrangements for more soldiers while we move.”
“Some people like pretty singers’ voices but give me the songs of swords any damn day. When I was young, I never understood the battle started long before the soldiers hit the fields. I didn’t know the outcome could be decided in some remote area, at a fancy table like this. I always thought that disputed combatants erupted into instant battle and both sides knew each other. I’ve killed several men I have known, sure, but most I had never espied before, faceless men. Does that make it any easier? I’m not quite sure. My first real kill was a reckless lad of Donegal who couldn’t have been more than twelve. Everyone told me I would throw up but I never did. I didn’t have a chance because my next five stood in front of me, ready to strike me down. By the time my first battle ended, I took nine men and two boys’ lives that rainy day. Glad I practiced when it was raining outside all those years but I never had the chance to dwell on those hapless bastards. I couldn’t remember their faces, never even knew their names, but they’re dead nonetheless,” Leimur looked across the table and caught a look from Ali-Tiste, prompting her to end the story. The meeting ended and Ali-Tiste and the Queen retreated back to Leimur’s quarters.
Three days passed and the Capitol of Goldenfield buzzed with soldiers, anxious to move out. The Queen was back in her element and couldn’t wait to leave, but was also saddened because her new lover and brothers would be staying behind. Leimur knew this was best for the boys.
Later that afternoon, Huber sat on her lap on the throne. She had to switch legs because her left one was starting to go numb. Huber said, “I heard people say that you killed uncle Marcel.” Leimur s
poke in a soft but serious tone, “I did. I had to. Our uncle was plotting against us to try to kill us and steal our crown.” “Why?” the boy asked. “Because greed and jealousy can add up to misguided revenge. When I was your age, I never thought I would have to kill our uncle. You will find that ruling is a difficult, fickle state of affairs. On the field of battle, the enemy is easily identifiable and there is a certain degree of honor. In the Capitol you must beware of the wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she warned, but Huber interrupted. “What does that mean?”
“It means the wolf will come as your friend or uncle to give you a great hug, only to stab you in the back when you turn. You will obtain an instinct for finding out who is bad and who is good very soon. Even though uncle Marcel is family, he planned to kill me, you, Romer, the general, Ali-Tiste and her boys. I never want to kill anybody but we have a set of rules and laws everyone agreed upon so when they are broken, people need to be punished. My Tiger Prince, you will find out that death is an unfortunate part of life. The worst thing about being born is understanding we all must die without knowing when the day will come. We all die, even Tiger Kings and Queens will die,” she informed her little brother.
“So our uncle was a bad man?” the four-year-old asked. “He was. When I found out he planned to hurt my brave Tiger Prince, I knew I had to stop him,” she said, firming her hug on her brother. “You had better behave for Ali-Tiste while I am gone. Do you understand me?” she asked. “She tries to act like she’s my mother,” he pouted. “That is because she loves you,” Leimur said. “Why?”
“Because you are so cute and lovable,” she said and shook the boy around. “Ali-Tiste told me she will bring you to visit sometime soon, alright?”
“Why can’t I go with you? You said I could,” the irritated boy raised his voice. “I know, I know, but it is too dangerous for a boy your age. I wasn’t allowed to go until sixteen, so don’t pout, young man. You are the Tiger Prince but you still need practice to be the Tiger King. You have to get stronger and smarter, so practice with your sword and letters, alright?” she said. “I will. Are you taking the tigers with you?” the boy wanted to know. “I am. I know you would do a great job watching them while I am gone but I may need them. I might leave two for you to play with, but only with Ali-Tiste, promise?”
“Uh huh, I promise. Will you leave the biggest one? I named him Marius,” Huber revealed. She smiled at the prince with pride and said, “I think that is a most fitting name, Huber. Study our family history while I am gone too. It is very important,” she advised.
A tremendous thumping sound erupted and the room started to shake. Leimur got up and led her younger brother to the huge door that led to the front steps of the palace. She leaned down and held Huber’s chin up as four purple eyes met. “We are going outside now and you are going to stand in front of me. You will stand straight and tall with your chest puffed out, alright?”
The boy nodded his head and the Queen pushed open the giant doors. The two walked out on the top step and proudly watched the infantry marching by. Their thunderous stomping in unison could have awakened the dead.
She leaned down, “You must show these men your sincere respect. These men will be your soldiers one day and it motivates a man to see his king supporting him. These are the men who win wars. You see those flags,” Leimur pointed at the tiger flags, fluttering in the light, choppy breeze. “Uh huh,” he responded. “These men will die for you and our family. It means a lot to see their king saluting them as they leave for battle. Always respect your soldiers or your commands will ring empty. Remember, a king with no army is a doomed king. You are going to be the greatest king, the Tiger King of Goldenfield. But first, the Tiger Queen and these men you see here have to make the kingdom bigger for you.” Queen Leimur Leluc patted Huber on the head and watched as the proud soldiers kept marching by.
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN SWORD
The Man kissed her soft, buttery lips and got out of bed. She smelled like long-stemmed roses, dancing in a field of vanilla. He peered at the seductive temptress and began to dress for the day. Gamelda had been staying in his bedchambers since her first night in Elkridge. The Man hadn’t been with a whore since her arrival. He went back to the bed and spoke, “Try to teach me something else. Something has to take.” “I cannot teach you anything but the words. And so far, your spirit seems infected,” Gamelda told him. “Infected with what?”
“I’m not sure at the moment. I’m still trying to figure it out but a black cloud engulfs your soul. A soul can be cleansed but we must find the problem,” Gamelda said. “So I should be nicer to people?” The Man asked, confused. “I don’t think that will help. What do you know of the Crippler?” Gamelda questioned. “Not much, he is a secretive man, like most. He always diverts my attention when I ask about his past,” he answered. “Diverts? You don’t speak like a bastard,” she said.
“That’s because the Crippler has taught me well. What I do know is that he treats me like a son. Everyone else treats me like I am their king, as well they should, but he has my best interests in mind,” he said. The Man became angered by a woman questioning his mentor. Gamelda warned, “Be certain of that. I know the magic he practices. He works with demons to draw his spirits. Dark words often bring dark clouds. His magic comes with heavy consequences, opposed to the benevolent spirits from above. Their help comes without cost to the soul by only causing some physical and mental pain. You need to ask yourself why the Crippler is so mysterious.”
“Probably because some men have had shitty pasts and would rather not rehash their life’s events,” The Man argued. “You had a shitty past and you can speak about it. I can speak about mine,” she rebutted. “Yeah sure, you’re the daughter of a goat herder from Fire Island. Not quite sure I believe that one,” The Man said and smiled at his lover. “Matters in life can change quickly as I am sure you understand. I don’t speak like a goat herder’s daughter, the same as you don’t speak like a bastard from Blairs Beak. Close your eyes and repeat after me,” Gamelda said.
The Man with the Golden Sword closed his eyes. Gamelda stated the lines and The Man repeated after her,
“Aritole, help me with your strength so great,
I only use to retaliate,
With my soul, your hands I seek,
My friends need aid, they are so weak,
Send down power from your cloud,
I use your strength to make Aritole proud.”
“Now open your eyes and try to use force on me,” Gamelda instructed. The Man opened his eyes and concentrated on the words of Aritole. Aritole was a member of the weakest family on earth when the first families lived. After he died, his spirit borrowed strength from the Gods to save his family on earth from being pushed around. “Anything?” he asked. “Nothing,” Gamelda softly responded. He lowered his head in frustration. Everything had always come easy to The Man, from swordplay to reading.
“Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Less than one in ten thousand can harness the spirits and most of them don’t ever use the gift,” Gamelda consoled The Man. “But I am one in a million,” he bragged. “I absolutely agree, and you are a king. I wouldn’t worry about magic. I will be here to help and unfortunately, so will the Crippler.”
“Why are you so willing to help me this soon?” The Man asked. “I would like to see a bastard sit on the throne. I would love to see you smash the original ruling families who have driven this realm into the ground through sheer greed. I would enjoy seeing more power given to the common folk, like me. Your actions give the lowborn hope that change can happen. In Donegal, bastards have no chance to rise up the social ranks through no fault of their own. They are victims of happenstance, not the evil, power lusting beasts the nobles make them out to be. Bastards have never been a legitimate threat to the throne until now. I would like to see that chance realized,” Gamelda encouraged her new lover.
“You will see it realized. I must attend a meeting now but I will see you afterwards.” The Man kiss
ed her and walked through the castle to the meeting room.
He could only think of the ebony beauty on the way. He hadn’t developed true affection for any woman since Tarasoni Alber, many years ago. The Man tried to fight off the passionate feelings, but he had already grown smitten with the sorceress. Gamelda still couldn’t see visions of him wearing a crown in her skull she used to see the future, but he remained confident she would see the image soon. When most women challenged The Man, he either killed them or sent them away. He didn’t know why Gamelda seemed different. She performed the same activities as the other women who had driven him crazy in the past. Now the acts seemed cute to The Man because Gamelda was behind them.
Lord Tucker and Training Master Terry Underling sat at the map-top table of Donegal. The Man took a seat across from Terry. “How are the men coming along? Can I call them men yet?” The Man joked and the trio laughed. “They are a coming. They all lollygagged around until they saw their mate with a spike in his chest, bleeding like a stuffed pig, and realized he wasn’t going to get up again,” Terry reported. “Good. Way to light a fire under their asses. We will leave in a fortnight, so let a few more bodies drop if we must,” The Man commanded.
“It’s a sun and moon difference since the last time you were in the yard, my king,” Terry stated. “I’ll be sure to stop down over the next few days. Tucker and Benroy will be ranking the soldiers with your input and I will check on the progress,” The Man told him.
“They can at least follow orders now. When they work as a unit, they are best. We don’t want these men in open combat with trained swords but they will be fit to serve a purpose on the real field,” Terry promised. “That’s all I can ask. When we leave, you will join me. You will serve as a strategy advisor. You know the game of war and I won’t let you waste away back here. No combat, just planning,” The Man offered. “I am honored you view me as an officer, my King,” Terry humbly stated.
Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2) Page 33