Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)

by Nicholas Andrews

  “I am many things,” Len-Ahl said, “but yes, it is through the spirit of Paral that I learned my craft. There used to be orders for all the elements, back in the days when most humans still had the inherent ability to sense the faery realm. But then men cut down their forests and raided the earth to put up cities of stone and timber, and the orders dwindled. I fear they are all but gone now.”

  “The earth clerics remain,” Nerris said. “They were a functioning order until about thirty years ago. But that means there are people out there who can bend water and fire to their will as well.”

  “Yes,” Len-Ahl said. “Those who choose the wind and open skies as their vocation seek out Paral. The earth belongs to Gobe, water to Nixsa, and fire to Jinn. Those were the physical elements. Those devoted to the spiritual elements never had orders; the spirits of those elements lack names or visual representation.”

  “Spiritual elements?”

  “Thought, reason, knowledge, and desire,” she said. “You will see when the Stonechaser Prophecy is translated. Those words are the work of Angelica, Queen of the Faeries.”

  “Are you telling me those scrolls are written in the language of the faeries?” Nerris asked.

  Len-Ahl shrugged. “You will see.”

  The storm let up in the morning, and they were able to get underway, making the last leg of their journey to Faerlin. The terrain grew hillier the farther west they rode. The northern coast of the Arm was laden with hills and cliffs. After another two days on the road, they arrived at Faerlin around midday.

  The capital of Faerna sprawled against the coast. Mount Tamelk stood on the north coast, sheltering part of the city from south-blowing storms. Faerlin was the trading hub of the Aristian Sea, and housed a great many people. Ships from all over Tormalia littered the harbor, and pallid smoke rose in plumes from thousands of chimneys. Faerlin Castle rested on the foothills of the mountain, elevated above the rest of the city. The blue-and-gold kingfisher sigil of House Klaidon flew on the ramparts, billowing in the breeze.

  As they entered through the east gate, Nerris could feel Len-Ahl suck in her breath. Unlike the sleepy village they had left behind, the activity here never ended. Carts and carriages lumbered down city streets. A layabout begged them for spare coins. On the other side of the road, a man with a scarf over his face scooped up horse dung with a shovel. And a street corner, two men engaged in furtive argument over some personal dispute until an old woman in the house above opened a window and scattered them by dumping the contents of her chamber pot onto the street.

  “This is more people than I have seen in my life,” Len-Ahl said. “Are they all this noisy?”

  “In a city this big, you have to be noisy to get anyone to pay attention to you,” Jhareth said. “We’ll take you down to the marketplace tomorrow. Then you’ll see some real chaos.”

  Upon arriving at the castle’s main gate, Sir Enric hailed the sentries, who admitted them at once. Back at the Kennels, Enric had sent a rider onward, to inform the castle of their impending arrival. Because of that, they were greeted in the bailey by a formal retinue: a dozen men-at-arms, another half-dozen servants, two of the king’s cavaliers and an old man in a silk robe, who had a mischievous look about him. Nerris couldn’t help but smile when he laid eyes on the man.

  “That’s Lord Tarlan Croffer of Green Rock, steward of Faerlin,” Nerris told Len-Ahl. “It’s been years since I’ve seen that old cuss.”

  The Croffer family traditionally handled the day-to-day issues of the capital, though they were styled as lords. They even had their own keep on Green Rock, an island out in the bay, which oversaw the ships coming and going from the harbor.

  “Oh, mighty Thrillseekers!” Tarlan gesticulated before them. “It is surely an act of divine will which finds all of you here together once more.”

  Nerris bit his lower lip and glanced at Dist and Jhareth to see if they were having as hard a time keeping a straight face. They were.

  “And it is fitting you make your return here in Faerlin, the Fair City,” Tarlan continued, “a city which is the apex of the known world, brightest jewel of the Tormalian crown, or mayhap the largest pimple on the continent’s ass. Whichever point of view you take.”

  Everyone had a laugh at that, even the stoic cavaliers. “Greetings to you, Tarlan,” Nerris said. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still the soul of acerbic formality.”

  Tarlan winked at him. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to offend the legendary Thrillseekers. The world might stop turning.”

  Jhareth eyed the servants. “I suppose we’re to get our insides ripped out and stuffed for King Maerlos.”

  “You know formalities,” Tarlan said. “We can’t let wayfaring slobs in to see his Majesty, after all.”

  “I see your mouth is as big as ever too, old man,” Jhareth said.

  Dist chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”

  Several female servants approached them and led Len-Ahl away as they chattered amongst themselves. She cast a panicked glance back at Nerris, but he smiled to let her know it was all right. Sir Enric and his men said their farewells for the moment as they went off to make their report to the king.

  The remainder of the servants, along with the cavaliers, led them to the castle steams, where they were bathed and fitted into formal clothing. Nerris had long ago discovered an enjoyment in keeping himself tidy and dressing up for formal occasions as the situation commanded. Jhareth sometimes had to play at nobility to get whatever he was after, and considered the inconvenience a necessary costume. Dist, however, was working class to the bone, and swore and made grouchy threats every time a servant tried to wash his face or brush dried mud from his hair.

  “It’s just as well,” Jhareth told him. “You were starting to look like a walking pigpen. Much longer on the road with you and I would have thrown you into a river myself.”

  “Put a hand on me and you won’t get it back, Jhareth,” Dist said between clenched teeth as a servant lifted his arm to scrub the underside.

  “You know you have to go through this every time we come here, so why rage about it?” Nerris asked.

  “It’s the principle.”

  “You’re just fighting for the sake of fighting,” Jhareth said.

  “Principle,” Dist insisted.

  After bathing, their hair was trimmed. Nerris insisted the ponytail he had been sporting for the past three years be shorn, and he also asked them to shave his beard. Jhareth and Dist already had much shorter hair than him, but Jhareth did get his own whiskers trimmed a bit.

  They were given nice doublets and hose to change into next. Nerris sported green with gold trim, Dist red with orange and Jhareth in black and yellow. “Nice of them to color coordinate us,” Dist commented as the cavaliers led them to the antechamber in front of the great hall.

  “I don’t care if they put feathers in our collars,” Jhareth said, “as long as I get this matter with King Maerlos cleared up so we can hunt some treasure.”

  “At least try to be courteous,” Nerris said. “He is the king.”

  “Yes,” Dist said. “Don’t be an ass.”

  Jhareth put his hand over his heart. “Maerlos is our friend. When he went back on his word, he hurt my feelings.”

  Nerris rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  A few moments later, Tarlan entered with Len-Ahl on his arm. She had been gowned in an elegant white dress, and she curtsied before them. Her hair was tied into a bun on top of her head, with a few golden wisps rolling past her temple. Nerris stared at her for a moment, not believing the figure she cut in such finery.

  Len-Ahl smiled. “Well, Nerris?”

  He wasn’t aware he had been asked a question until Dist prompted him by stepping on his foot. “It’s... different,” he managed to get out.

  Jhareth sighed in disgust and strode forward, taking Len-Ahl’s hand. “My dear faermaid, you look exquisite. Few mortal men have laid eyes on a goddess, but if I ever do, I will find them wanting next to your radian
ce this day.” He looked back at Nerris. “Is that closer to the mark?”

  Len-Ahl blushed, and Nerris tried to find his voice. Before he could, Tarlan cleared his throat. “My faermaid, gentlemen, and you as well, Jhareth... we need to prepare for our entrance.” He nodded to Len-Ahl and took his place in the lead, right in front of the door.

  Len-Ahl took Nerris’s arm and led him to stand behind Tarlan as Dist and Jhareth fell in line behind them. One of the double doors opened a crack, and a servant whispered that the throne room was ready to receive them.

  “Aren’t you going to take Dist’s arm, Jhareth?” Tarlan asked without even turning around.

  “One of these days that mouth of yours will be the end of you,” Jhareth said.

  “I’ve lasted sixty-two years this summer,” Tarlan said. “I’ll lose my ability to speak coherently in the coming years. If my mouth is going to kill me, it had best hurry up.” With a grin, he gestured to the guards, who opened the doors for him.

  Tarlan strode into the great hall, with Len-Ahl and the Thrillseekers keeping in step. The king’s throne room was vast. A large banner bearing the Klaidon coat of arms hung behind the thrones, which were situated on a raised dais. The gallery stood on either side of the purple carpet, where many lords, ladies, and courtiers had gathered to feast their eyes on the Thrillseekers.

  With a quick glance, Nerris noticed some faces he hadn’t seen in years. Lord Joddeth Blackwine, Sir Gillamo Tosset, and Lady Ceresa Hallsworth were to the left. On the right, he spied the castle’s master-at-arms Sir Felton Lomont, who had a hand on the shoulder of Ceder Duchois, the son of Lord Laque Duchois. The Duchois family had made the unfortunate error of being on the losing side during the Liberation of Agos. When all was said and done, King Maerlos had taken Ceder as his ward and hostage. The lord’s younger son was currently in residence with King Owen in Alicanos. The boys had been children when taken into custody, but Ceder now looked older than Nerris had when he attended Gauntlet.

  All eight of the king’s cavaliers were on hand to welcome them, standing stoic at the bottom of the dais. The Queen’s seat was empty, but King Maerlos sat the throne himself. It had been about four years, but his Majesty was beginning to look his age. Nerris had never known him when he was the fierce, young king who had led the forces of the eastern kingdoms against a united Yagolhan and slain Yahd the Enslaver in single combat. The silver hair and beard he remembered, but his eyes looked tired, a bit more sunken than before and many new wrinkles lined his face. Yet with his regal robes and golden crown upon his head, when he stood he looked every bit the respectable, impressive figure he had always been.

  Dist and Jhareth moved up to stand next to Nerris and Len-Ahl, and they all dropped to a knee and lowered their heads when the king stood. Tarlan stood off to the side, his arms open as if presenting them to the court.

  “Your Majesty, my esteemed lords and ladies, I give you the Thrillseekers,” he said. “Nerris Palada, Dist Schies, and Jhareth Kanave, along with their companion, the faermaid Len-Ahl.”

  “It is truly a joyous day for the kingdom of Faerna,” King Maerlos said in his deep voice. “I did not realize when I sent Sir Enric to request the presence of Jhareth Kanave that our favorite sons would be returned to us, whole once more. Rise, Thrillseekers, and you as well, Len-Ahl. You have returned to us during a time of great confusion and turmoil, and it would do this old king’s heart well if he could at the very least look upon you.”

  Nerris and his companions rose, and he looked into King Maerlos’s blue eyes. What had he meant by a time of great confusion? With another glance, Nerris noticed several things he had not before. For one thing, he did not see Queen Nelisa anywhere, or Prince Camion. Though he had thought the cavaliers present in full force, he now noted he had been mistaken. Six of the eight knights were present, though with their helms visored he could not tell which ones. He could not tell which two were missing.

  “It pleases all of us to see you again, your Majesty,” Jhareth said. “The court has always been generous in its hospitality, and if there is anything we can do to serve you, you need only command it.”

  “The Thrillseekers are always welcome in Faerlin,” King Maerlos said. “I am pleased you have returned, Jhareth. I never meant for any rift to form between us, and there is a matter of negotiations to be discussed privily.”

  “There is most certainly that also.”

  “Careful,” Dist muttered.

  Maerlos smiled. “Ah, impudence of youth,” he said, “or is that merely a Thrillseeker conceit?”

  Jhareth smiled back. “It is the privilege of friendship, your Majesty. I am eager to put certain matters behind us as well.”

  “Then I believe we shall adjourn for the day,” Maerlos said, turning to the gallery. “I trust your eyes have had their fill. Behold, the return of the Thrillseekers. We will celebrate this occasion tonight with a grand feast, but for now I shall retire with my old friends to discuss matters of import.”

  The crowd knew a dismissal when they heard one, and filed out of the great hall. Mutters of excitement filled the air as the gallery emptied, and the king waved off several of his cavaliers. Two stood by to escort them from the hall, but one man lifted his visor and approached Nerris.

  He recognized the knight’s crooked smile and clasped a gauntleted hand. “Jach,” Nerris said, “still keeping his Majesty safe, I trust?”

  “Always,” said Sir Jacey Rainwater. “I cannot believe you three are together again. We hadn’t heard anything from the Thrillseekers in three years, and then Jhareth shows up by himself a few months ago. No one knew what to make of it.”

  Sir Jacey was reputed as the greatest knight in the kingdom, and was pretty much in line to take the place of Sir Daswell Borry as Lord Commander once the old knight retired from his duty. Nerris, Dist and Jhareth’s association with the man they referred to as Jach dated all the way back to the Liberation of Agos, when they were still students at Gauntlet.

  “We’ll have to catch up later,” Nerris said. “His Majesty looks like he wants to discuss something with us.”

  The two cavaliers led the Thrillseekers, King Maerlos, Tarlan, and Len-Ahl through the corridors until they arrived at the king’s chambers. Tarlan showed them in and made sure they were comfortable as Maerlos entered his bedchamber to put on less formal clothing.

  Upon his return, he took a seat across from them with a grunt. “I could swear that crown gets heavier with each passing year,” he said. “Maybe my strength is waning.”

  “You still look robust to us, your Majesty,” Nerris said.

  “You flatter me, Nerris, but I know better. Your coming is like a ray of light peeking through rain clouds. And the clouds have been very dark lately.” He leaned forward. “A fortnight past, my Nelisa passed on.”

  Nerris’s eyes widened and Dist gasped, while Jhareth stood in surprise.

  “The queen?” Jhareth asked. “How?”

  “It was sudden,” Maerlos said with some effort. “One moment she was discussing her bath with one of her handmaidens. The girl left the room, and when she returned, Nelisa was unconscious. By the time a doctor was brought in, she was gone.”

  Nerris let out his breath. “I am so sorry, your Majesty. Queen Nelisa was a kind woman.”

  Maerlos swallowed. “It has been difficult around here, even more so since you left, Jhareth. After his mother died, Camion became enraged. He believed some conspiracy responsible, and when I could not be persuaded to his side, he packed up and left for Renoa, taking the Ristaff Brothers with him.”

  That answered the question of the missing cavaliers. Seymorr and Baramon Ristaff served the royal family, but their ancestral home was in Renoa.

  “A conspiracy?” Dist asked.

  “Paranoia,” Maerlos said. “Camion has been like that lately. He, and others, are becoming a bit unsettled because of problems we have been having with the Church of Clystam. I am old now, and so was Nelisa. She lived a full life and died with her
family around her. Everyone should be so lucky.”

  “Trouble with the Church?” Nerris asked. “Would this have anything to do with the lack of priests throughout the kingdom?”

  Maerlos nodded. “There is unrest in certain sects of the population, who believe Clystam no longer answers our prayers. Some have even been in favor of finding a new god to pray to, and the Church took steps to curb these ideas. When they began to get violent, I had to step in. Ever since, there has been discord between the royal family and the Dominarch. There are those who believe Nelisa being taken from me was punishment from Clystam for opposing his will.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Nerris said.

  “Wait,” Jhareth said. “As exciting as internal politics are, we have some unfinished business, your Majesty.”

  “Jhareth, have some respect,” Dist said. “The man lost his wife.”

  Maerlos held up his hand. “It is all right, Dist. A king should always keep his word. My family has always held the Stonechaser Prophecy in perpetuity. We were sworn to protect it, and our agreement tied in to the Church as well. After all that strife, I had no wish to antagonize them further. That is why I hastily refused your boon, Jhareth.”

  Jhareth sighed. “I see. Well, it seems I’ve hit a stroke of luck, then. You are perfectly within your rights to let me have it now.”

  Dist furrowed his brow. “Only members of the royal family can take possession of the scrolls. King Maerlos can’t let you have it. Ancient treaties take precedence over boons asked by scoundrels like you.”

  “If I may,” Jhareth said irritably, holding up a hand to Dist’s face. “Your Majesty, your late aunt was the wife of the late Lord Bower, was she not?”

  “That is true,” Maerlos said.

  “She gave birth to Rienna Bower, your cousin,” Jhareth continued. “Our dear Rienna married a man named Derrin Palada, whose son sits before us.” Jhareth motioned to Nerris. “I believe he qualifies as a member of the royal family.”

  “Me?” Nerris asked. “Be serious, Jhareth.”