The Rawn Chronicles Book Two: The Warlord and The Raiders (The Rawn Chronicles Series 2)

by P D Ceanneir

  The ballroom style of dancing was familiar to Havoc and his partner complimented him on his skill. Powyss was doing well also, but would not stop laughing at Kith, Velnour and Furran’s clumsy and drunken attempts at dancing.

  Everyone stopped when a fanfare of trumpets blared sending them all into silence. The crowd of dancers opened up and a tall box carriage, with four strong men gripping the handles front and back, walked through the people to the food tent.

  They placed the carriage on the ground and opened the silken drapes at the sides. Queen Nieve of the Falesti smiled at the sea of faces as they bowed or curtsied towards her. Havoc could see she was old and frail. The journey from the palace had fatigued her, her silver hair was tied up into a bun at the back of her head and her face was powder white. She wore a lime green dress gown and silver and pearl beads round her neck. The absence of a crown did not diminish her regal nature.

  More beautifully dressed people arrived behind the carriage to sit next to her throne at the edge of the dance floor. These others were forest nobility, from minor lords and thanes to the higher ranking Atyds and Havoc recognised the Atyd Barnum, also with a slight flip of his stomach, Princess Bronwyn next to him. She looked radiant in a yellow summer dress. She was looking around the faces, searching for someone. She stopped when her eyes met Havoc’s. He smiled and she inclined her head and smiled back. The moment was lost when the queen waved her hand and the musicians started to play.

  Havoc danced some more, then went to sit down next to Morden.

  ‘Why do you not sit with the other Atyd’s next to the queen?’ he asked him.

  He looked at Havoc in shock, and then shook his head and tutted.

  ‘Havoc my friend; you should know by now that I have a reputation to keep.’ This made Havoc chuckle. ‘I’m not one of those lords that fawn and simper over royalty. The queen knows this and respects me for it.’

  A large shadow, in the shape of Little Kith and two giggling girls in each arm, walked by, ‘don’t wait up,’ he said to Havoc as he took them into the darkness of the woods.

  ‘There goes a very brave man,’ said Morden as he sipped his cider.

  Havoc was not listening. As he watched Kith disappear he briefly caught a glimpse of a tall man in the hooded white cloak of the Ri Order. The man looked familiar. Havoc stood to get a better look at him but he had disappeared into the crowd. He was about to follow when someone called his name.

  ‘Lord Havoc,’ said a female voice behind him. He turned, expecting to be asked to dance again, and so chose his words carefully to refuse but the voice belonged to Princess Bronwyn.

  ‘Atyd Morden,’ she said in greeting, giving him and Havoc a slight curtsy.

  Morden stood and bowed in greeting and then embarrassingly shoot furtive glances towards Bronwyn then Havoc. He looked down at his very full pint, ‘Won’t you both excuse me, while I get myself another drink,’ he said and quickly wandered off.

  ‘Would you like to take a seat my lady? I will stay out of arms reach,’ said Havoc with a smile. The princess laughed and sat down.

  ‘I’m very sorry about that. Everyone tells me I have a temper,’ she said.

  ‘I had not noticed. I was too busy ducking,’ this got another giggle. Over her shoulder, Havoc could see that the Atyd Barnum was watching him closely from his seat by the queen.

  ‘Are you enjoying the festival, my Lord?’

  ‘Very much so, and my friends call me Havoc.’

  ‘Then so shall I, my name is Bronwyn, which I believe you are aware, we seem to be the talk of the forest.’

  ‘Yes, I must apologies to you for interrupting the hunt. I thought you were in danger.’

  ‘There is no need to apologise; it was very gallant of you anyway. They tell me you are a Rawn?’

  ‘Word does get around fast here,’ said Havoc in surprise.

  ‘It helps if you don’t tell Deron anything. He’s the worst gossip there is.’

  ‘I’ll try and remember that.’ Barnum was still staring in their direction, ‘your fiancé doesn’t like me very much does he?’

  ‘He doesn’t like anyone,’ she said sadly.

  They were silent for a while, and then Havoc asked her to dance. His stomach did one of those flips again as she nodded and smiled warmly at him.

  They danced for a while with the eyes of Barnum on them throughout.

  ‘Why have you come here with Morden?’ she said as she pirouetted under his arm.

  ‘I need to ask your grandmother for her help.’

  ‘What kind of help?’

  ‘The military kind,’ said Havoc.

  ‘I see, that may be more difficult than you imagine, she respects stature and nobility, but “youth is for fools”, she prides herself in telling me.’

  ‘So I’m doomed before I begin, is that what you are trying to say?’

  ‘Not necessarily, she likes charming and handsome men too.’

  ‘So I’m charming and handsome too?’

  Bronwyn giggled and was about to answer when the Atyd Barnum stepped in and stopped their dance. He gave Havoc a cool look.

  ‘I crave a dance with my fiancé before she and the queen depart,’ he said, ‘do excuse us,’ he pulled the princess after him, but she resisted long enough to thank Havoc for the dance.

  Many sore heads and groaning men woke to the sunlight streaming through the stable window. Havoc was already up with Powyss saddling the Horses. Furran drank deep from a canteen then threw water on a snoring Linth who woke up spluttering. Velnour yelled that he was now blind when he woke. Some prankster had moved his patch onto his good eye while he slept.

  They found Little Kith under hay in the loft, with two naked women by his side.

  ‘Lucky bugger,’ said Furran, ‘the only thrill I got last night was the bottom of that punch bowl.’

  ‘I’ve never danced so much in my life,’ groaned Powyss, ‘my feet are killing me.’

  Little Kith slapped the rumps of the girls to wake them, and then he walked naked to the nearby well and dowsed his head in cold water. The long nails of the two Falesti women had scarred his back bloody; he shrugged his shoulders at everyone’s comments.

  Linth looked at Kith’s groin.

  ‘Did not think it was that cold,’ he chuckled, ‘is that why they call you “Little” Kith.

  ‘Bugger off,’ grunted the giant.

  The Atyd and his men were ready when Havoc and his friends guided their horses out of the stables. Morden looked a bit worse for wear. Whyteman told Havoc his brother was not much of a drinker.

  ‘I should say so, I saw him nurse the same pint all night,’ said Havoc, who had not drunk much himself.

  It was a short trip to the palace, a public gate inside a twelve-foot hawthorn hedge was their way into the palace grounds. The grounds were large with small trees, flowers, and shrubs. They took their mounts to the corral beside the palace gardens.

  The palace itself was a narrow but tall building, due to the trees that meshed to form the towering structure. In amongst the tree branches at the top of the palace was the great hall, where the queen would receive her guests. There were many people wandering about in the gardens and Havoc looked for Bronwyn in vain. He had not gotten her out of his mind all night.

  A troop of armoured soldiers approached them as they were about to enter the corral. Atyd Barnum was at their head.

  Havoc had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  ‘Atyd Morden, as the Chief Advisor to the queen and High Steward of Ten Mountain Palace, you will hand over custody of these men to me forthwith,’ said Barnum firmly.

  ‘Custody? I must protest!’ spluttered Morden, ‘these men are my guests you have no right...’

  ‘Your jurisdiction ended when you entered the palace grounds, Morden,’ cut in Barnum, ‘these men will hand over their weapons to my troopers, now!’

  No one moved. Havoc was staring at Barnum, who was giving him a sardonic smile. Havoc’s men were looking at him for
guidance.

  Finally, after what seemed like an age, Havoc nodded to his friends.

  ‘Do as Atyd Barnum orders, gentlemen.’

  To a man, and without protests, they gave up their weapons, leaving Havoc alone with his. The Nithi daggers were in his backpack for safety on Dirkem’s back, SinDex was the only weapon to hand over. Barnum smiled at Havoc, it was the look of triumph, and the prince knew he had an enemy for life.

  ‘Your sword, if you please,’ said Barnum, reaching out his hand for the weapon.

  Havoc turned Dirkem around so he was side on to the Atyd.

  ‘No one but me shall wield my sword,’ he said viciously to the Atyd. He trotted away from the group, towards a tall boulder in the middle of the gardens grassy area.

  He jumped from his horse onto the boulder and unsheathed his sword.

  The Atyd, his men and Havoc’s friends all looked on with confused frowns as Havoc aimed the point straight down.

  With one hand, he plunged SinDex into the surface of the boulder. Sparks flew from the stone until the blade was more than halfway down, then he let go and mounted Dirkem again.

  He rejoined the group and was aware of all eyes staring at him.

  ‘Anyone touches my sword will encounter intolerable pain. You have been warned,’ he said, and this time it was Havoc’s turn to smile.

  ‘I will appeal to the queen, don’t worry my friends,’ said Morden as Havoc and his group, were unceremoniously shoved into a bamboo barred stockade.

  Havoc went in last; Barnum stopped him at the last moment. With nibble fingers the Atyd picked up the leather thong around Havoc’s neck and pulled off the medallion. He scrutinised the coin for a second, smiled, and then pushed Havoc inside the jail.

  Havoc watched the retreating backs of the two Atyd’s and then sat down next to Powyss.

  ‘I’ve never seen a sword do that before,’ said Furran, staring at Havoc.

  ‘Well that’s modern technology for you,’ said Powyss deadpan.

  They all sat in silence, each with their own thoughts. Powyss stood and paced in the cramped space between the seats. He turned to Havoc.

  ‘How will you meditate without the sword?’ he asked him. The rest looked up when the captain spoke; they all sensed a change in the situation regarding the mysterious Havoc and any new information would dispel their curiosity about him.

  ‘I’ve not meditated for a few days now. I find the peace in the forest strangely calming,’ Havoc had a small smile that Powyss found annoying.

  ‘What if someone steals the sword?’ said Whyteman.

  ‘No one can use the sword bar Havoc,’ said Powyss and Havoc gave him a sharp look, this information was digested by the others who all looked more confused.

  ‘What did the Atyd take from you, boss?’ asked Whyteman

  ‘A medallion depicting a Vallkyte Knight,’ said Havoc.

  ‘I hope it’s not sentimental?’ said Little Kith.

  ‘I found it in a pile of ashes,’ said the prince and Powyss rolled his eyes.

  The news of the sword in the stone spread fast around the palace grounds. Soon a crowd stood at the boulders edge, deep in conversation. The Atyd Barnum ordered his Master-at-Arms to remove the weapon and bring it to him.

  The group in the stockade watched as the Master parted the crowd and stood on the boulder, gripping the sword hilt with both hands, he pulled with all of his strength. The sword would not budge. The Fire Orrinn on the pommel responded to the strangers touch and sent the pain of molten rock through his nervous system.

  The scream from the man echoed around the garden.

  ‘I did warn them,’ said Havoc.

  After two hours in the jail, the Atyd Morden appeared with the gaoler.

  ‘The queen will see you now Lord Havoc. The others will have to wait a moment longer,’ he said.

  As he left the jail Havoc turned to Powyss and put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘No more hiding, the truth will be out today. Tell the men who I’ am, not what I’ am, you understand?’ Powyss nodded and watched the prince and the Atyd leave.

  The lower section of the palace was an extension of the gardens. A small neatly trimmed hedge in the centre of the grounds surrounded a stone carving depicting three mountain ashes inside a shield, The Royal Coat of Arms. A pathway led them through borders of shrubs and tall flowers. High above them were huge hanging baskets of various plants their long trailing stems reached down towards them like tentacles. A staircase, which grew from one of the thick trees holding up part of the structure, wound upwards in a dizzying spiral to the high buildings of the palace. It was as if the building was floating in the air. To Havoc’s surprise the Atyd walked past the staircase to a boxed contraption at the end of the gardens narrow lawn.

  ‘We call this a “lift”,’ said Morden, ‘Beats climbing those stairs.’ The guardsmen that escorted them waited until both men entered the lift. Inside the space was enough for four people. The Atyd pulled a lever, there was a judder then a clunking sound, thick rope tightened on the lift’s top then they shot up at an alarming speed.

  Havoc was sure that he had left his stomach at the bottom; he gripped the sides of the lift for balance. Morden smiled and hummed to himself. A shadow passed by them, and Morden explained it was a cantilevered weight that drops to give them lift. The lift slowed then stopped, Morden opened the wicker screen, and they both stepped into a narrow corridor that ran parallel to the palace hall.

  ‘The Atyd Tollard from Balael and Sequilan from Wurel are also here with Barnum,’ said Morden, ‘don’t be put off by them. You’re here to see the queen only.’

  The corridor was full of light; its wooden walls covered in gold tapestries and framed portraits that seemed to stare at Havoc as he walked past. The long thick rug that ran along the corridor muffled their footsteps. Two guards, wearing armour and holding spears, watched them approach the double doors to the hall entrance that they flanked. They saluted the Atyd and opened the doors for them.

  A vaulted ceiling ribbed by curved tree limbs rose high above them, the stone fireplace to their left was the only non-organic structure in the room; the tapestries’ and pictures of the corridor were in far greater display here; they covered the high walls. The hall was narrow but very long; a silver birch table stretched its entire length. In the centre of the table sat the queen, to her right was Bronwyn, and on her left was Barnum. Two other men, that Havoc did not recognise, stood behind the queen; one was old with short white hair the other growing portly in his middle age. All were richly dressed in fine gowns.

  Morden introduced Havoc to the queen and the two unknown Atyd’s, the older man being Tollard and the younger Sequilan. Havoc bowed gracefully.

  ‘Greetings to you Queen Nieve, Princess Bronwyn, and the honourable Atyd’s,’ said Havoc, ‘I hope I find you all well?’ it was confidently said, even the queen looked impressed. Havoc noticed that Morden did not leave his side to sit; he welcomed his support.

  ‘You are a fine handsome man Lord Havoc, you remind me of my late husband,’ said the queen. Although her old age showed, her voice was strong and she would have been a beauty in her youth.

  ‘You are most kind your highness, you husband obviously had a good eye for a beautiful woman,’ said Havoc dripping charm.

  The Atyd Barnum scoffed; Havoc ignored him. The queen however laughed in a raspy chuckle, he also saw Bronwyn smile at him.

  ‘I must admit I never met a Rogun without humour, and you have not disappointed me Lord Havoc,’ said Queen Nieve.

  ‘He is no Rogun, your majesty, he is a Vallkyte spy!’ sneered Barnum.

  ‘How do you come to that conclusion Barnum?’ said the Atyd Tollard.

  Barnum took something from his breast pocket and threw it on the table in front of the queen; it was Havoc’s medallion minus the thong.

  ‘Is this yours?’ asked Barnum.

  ‘Yes honourable Atyd, it is,’ said Havoc pleasantly.

  ‘You admit to being a
spy?’

  ‘If I was, I would hardly advertise it by wearing the medallion Lord Atyd.’

  This got a laugh from Bronwyn.

  Sequilan picked up the coin in his podgy fingers; he looked at both sides.

  ‘Token of a Vallkyte Knight, if you say you are a Rogun, then why this?’ he said. Everyone was looking at the prince intently, including a now worried Morden.

  ‘It once belonged to my cousin, but he does not wear it now on the account of him being dead,’ informed Havoc.

  ‘And who was your cousin?’ said Tollard.

  ‘His name was Soujonn,’ said Havoc. This took some time to sink in. Everyone frowned and looked around at each other. The queen recognised the name.

  ‘The only Soujonn I know of is Soujonn Cromme, the late son of King Kasan,’ she said to Havoc.

  ‘It is the same your majesty.’

  ‘Are you telling me you are Havoc De Proteous Cromme?’

  ‘That is who I’ am, your majesty,’ said Havoc nodding. To a person they all stared, with dropped jaws and pale faces in regards to Barnum and Bronwyn. The Atyd Morden laughed.

  ‘I just knew there was something different about you,’ he said.

  ‘If you are the De Proteous then prove it?’ said Barnum now standing.

  ‘I can vouch for him,’ echoed a booming voice behind and above Havoc. He turned to see a low balcony that ran above the hall. Looking down at them was the white robed Ri from last night.

  With a quick jump he somersaulted from the balcony and landed lightly on the oak floors, he held his Sword-staff in the crook of his arm. Its hilt was in the shape and colour of a black dragon, and for an instant Havoc thought he had SinDex in his hands, but the staff was grey not black and it was covered in white Skrol.

  ‘He is who he says he is, I should know, I used to teach him,’ said the Ri as he pulled back his hood.

  Havoc smiled as he recognised the face.

  ‘Soneros Ri!’ he said in surprise.

  Chapter 6

  The Ever Living One

  The queen stood shakily, her hands on the table to help her up. The princess grasped her arm to assist her.