The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Grange whispered a command to the energy, then motioned again, and the candles and lanterns were all extinguished, the lanterns rattling violently as they did.

  The men looked even more uneasy.

  “Shall I summon forces to carry you up the stairs?” he asked, as no one moved. “You my lord?” he asked the rude Birger.

  “No, no, no,” Birger spoke instantly and insistently.

  “But my lord, you came all the way up here. You surely deserve to learn some answers,” Grange raised his hand in a motion, and started to point at Birger, then stopped as the man fainted.

  “Perhaps it’s not a good night to be visiting,” Grange commented. “Can I help you carry your friend to his rooms, or should we just let him stay here?”

  “We’ll help him out of here,” Baron Holmger replied quickly. He motioned towards a pair of the followers, who each took an arm and draped the unconscious nobleman between themselves. Others went to the door, then stopped, as they looked out into the dark tower staircase.

  “Here, let me send lights down to help you,” Grange offered. He motioned and sent several of the lights floating out into the stairwell. For a moment the appearance of the globes in the stony interior of the tower reminded him of the lights he had used in Asloe’s tin mine, and to his surprise, the lights took on a reddish hue, making some of the departing visitors moan fearfully. Grange hastily focused on keeping the lights white, and stood next to Jenniline, as they listened to the group walk down the steps.

  “I’m hungry,” Grange said, when there were no more echoes rising up the shaft of the staircase.

  “Well, that’s what you get for skipping dinner,” Jenniline said bluntly.

  “That didn’t go well. You’re going to have problems at court because of the way you treated them,” she advised.

  “He started it,” Grange said petulantly.

  She started to move her hand towards his face, as if to smack him, then stopped herself and gave his chest a half-hearted shove.

  “Grange, as of this moment, you’re an admitted thief and a proven bore,” she told him, anger entering her voice. “You may be called Acton’s Champion, but you are not going to get any support or cooperation from my father the king if you don’t work to make yourself popular,” she told him.

  Grange looked at the frustration that was evident on her face. It was frustration due to him, he realized, and he felt his anger move to the rear as his appreciation for her rose.

  “I put you in a tough spot by publically naming you as my ally and counsel, didn’t I?” he asked.

  “That’s not an issue here,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. Just think about how to do this right,” she told him.

  “And can we get dinner?” he asked.

  “I ate dinner; I answered questions about you during dinner. I didn’t dance and make a naked spectacle in the rain during dinner,” she answered primly.

  “I’m not hungry now; I don’t need dinner,” she finished sharply.

  Grange stood and looked up at the ceiling, wondering what to say or do.

  “But I suppose I can go out with you and get soaking wet on the way to the kitchen, so that you can eat,” she added after a pause.

  “I can keep you dry,” Grange told her. He was feeling more and more confident in his use of the power, and was ready to offer to use it for everyday activities. His confidence was a combination of the healing he had received from Acton, plus the boost of encouragement that Brieed’s voice had given him. And creating an umbrella of energy would be a way to practice using his wand as well.

  “Can we leave the palace?” he asked. “Is there someplace out in the city where we can go, where we can just be among people?”

  “You want to go slumming, do you?” Jenniline asked. “There’s still time to find some place that’ll serve something to eat. I don’t know such places very well, but my brother might, if you’ll take me through the palace to try to find him.”

  “Is this the brother who’s heir to the throne, who won’t like me?” Grange asked.

  “That would be entertaining, but no, this is Inge, the younger brother, not Halsten. You fought against both of them today at the armory, you know,” she chided him, as he started focusing on his wand.

  “Would you look at me while I talk to you?” she said crossly.

  “I’m listening,” he answered, while still looking at his wand, as he muttered words to begin to charge it. “I’m just getting my wand ready to keep us dry.” He looked up from the tool. “There, it’s storing energy now, and we can start to go downstairs.”

  The glowing lights that had served the departure of the party of nobles were fading rapidly as the pair climbed downstairs; the only noise accompanying them was the sound of the rain falling against the exterior of the tower.

  “What are these rooms for?” Grange asked as they passed various floors.

  “Some of these were store rooms, and some were residents for palace servants,” Jenniline replied. “But the servants all moved out after you moved in.”

  When they reached the ground floor, the last of the globes stopped glowing, and they opened the door to look out into the miserable night.

  “Are we going to go find Inge or not?” Jenniline asked. “I need to know which way to start running through the rain.”

  Grange raised his wand over his head. He uttered a request to the wand, and watched as a faintly glowing umbrella spread from the tip of the wand, providing protection from the rain.

  “Let’s go see if Inge will join us,” Grange suggested. “Lead the way.”

  “This will protect us from the rain? For how long?” his companion asked.

  “I’m not sure; I didn’t have a lot of time to put energy into the wand,” Grange answered.

  “So we can be out in the middle of the storm and it will just quit protecting us?” she asked skeptically.

  “If we waste enough time standing here in the doorway, I’m sure it will,” he replied sarcastically.

  Jenniline stepped out, as Grange stretched his arm in front of himself, and they started to walk through the palace grounds.

  They entered a wing of the palace building, and Jenniline turned. “You can turn it off. We’ll be inside until we get to Inge’s room,” she told him.

  She said nothing further, and they walked through the crowded hallways, drawing occasional covert glances, and leaving a trail of murmurs and whispers behind, until they had to pass a pair of guards who stood at the entrance to the wing of private rooms of the royal family. The guards edged towards the center of the entry to the hallway, as they saw Jenniline and Grange approach.

  “Stand aside,” Jenniline said authoritatively, walking towards them with no apparent intention of stopping.

  “But we have orders, you know,” one of the guards said.

  “’You know’ ‘Your Highness’,” Jenniline pointedly corrected the address.

  “Your highness,” the man amended.

  “And I am a member of the royal family, correct?” she asked. “And this is my guest?”

  “Yes, your highness,” the other guard replied, stepping aside. “I saw you in the armory today, my lord,” he nodded towards Grange.

  “Thank you,” Grange acknowledged the implied compliment, as the other guard also moved, and Jenniline started forward.

  “This isn’t where your rooms were,” he observed as they entered the luxurious hall.

  “I have a room here, but since I’m not really involved in my father’s family, I stay away mostly,” she said with a trace of bitterness.

  “Here, this is Inge’s quarters,” she stopped in front of a large door and rapped on it.

  The door opened and a servant invited them into a sitting room, where Inge sat speaking to a young noblewoman.

  “Sister,” he spoke in a formal tone as Jenniline entered. “Ah!” he spoke with more energy as Grange appeared, and he stood up.

  “I hope all is well,” he said looking from one to
the other. “To what do we owe this unusual visit?” he asked.

  “Grange wishes to eat a late dinner, out in the city, and I told him that you would be more familiar with the options outside the palace than I am,” Jenniline explained.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening though,” Grange glanced at the quiet woman who stood off to the side. “We can be on our way.”

  “This is my friend, the Marquessa Jungar,” Inge said. “She came here to console me on the tragedy of my loss to you in the armory,” the prince introduced the young lady.

  “I must be going anyway,” she indicated as she edged towards the door.

  “We didn’t mean to disturb you, truly,” Jenniline assured her. “We’ll be on our way, and perhaps we can go out some other time.”

  “No, this would be interesting,” the prince spoke up. “Come along Jungar,” he urged his guest. “You should join us; that father of yours keeps you too sheltered in that castle of his.”

  Jenniline reflexively cast a glance at Grange, then looked over at the girl. “My lady, please do come with us.”

  “We could ride in my carriage, and stay dry on the way there,” she admitted. “If you wish to go, my lord,” she added to Inge, who her eyes were fixed on.

  And so it was settled and fifteen minutes later the four of them were inside a carriage, as the driver sat atop the vehicle in the rain, and drove them through the empty night time streets of the city.

  “This tavern has a duo that plays music in the evening,” Inge informed them as the carriage came to a stop outside a door. Grange pointed his wand and uttered a command, so that a shield formed above their path from the carriage to the tavern, and they entered the noisy chamber with dry clothes and hair.

  A man was finishing singing a bawdy tune as the noble foursome stood looking for the best seating option.

  “Welcome my lords,” he said as the last notes sounded. “We’re either better than we thought, or there’s no other place open, to have such company join us!” he laughed.

  Prince Inge smiled and waved, then led his companions to one of the empty tables in the half-full dining space, where they sat down. Inge held up a hand with four fingers extended, letting the servant turn when only halfway to the table.

  “The lady is the daughter of the Protector of the Crown, Wilder,” Inge told Grange. “He’s my father’s closest reputable ally.”

  Whereas Sweyn the torturer is the even closer disreputable ally,” Jenniline jibed her half sibling.

  “I don’t have dealing with Sweyn,” Inge said quickly.

  “I have,” Grange said quietly, silencing the table momentarily.

  “Your father is unmarried?” Grange asked Jungar.

  “Yes, my mother died in childbirth when I was only a little girl. How did you know?” she asked.

  Grange started to mention his memory of being hidden in her very home when he’d been crippled and on the run, and hearing Jenniline describe Wilder as infatuated with Hope. It would all be inappropriate to mention, he realized as his mouth hung open.

  “I must have heard someone mention it; I don’t remember where,” he lied.

  The server arrived with four mugs of ale, which he deposited on the table.

  “We’d like some dinner too,” Inge told the man. “Two loaves of bread and butter, lamb chops, and potatoes,” he ordered.

  “Just a few minutes,” the servant replied, as he hurried away.

  “The bread will be here fast; I figured you’d like something in a hurry,” Inge told Grange, who he sat next to. Jenniline sat across from Inge, and Jungar sat across from Grange.

  “So you kept the rain off of us when we came in. Did you do something like that to win all those fencing matches at the armory?” Inge asked Grange. “No one has ever won that many matches in one day.”

  “No, those matches were just the result of a lot of practice, and good teachers and tough sparring partners,” he grinned at Jenniline.

  “Inge’s very good with a sword,” Jungar defended him stoutly.

  “He was good,” Grange truthfully agreed, remembering that the prince had been one of the two or three particularly challenging matches he had managed to win.

  The servant brought the basket of bread and a jar of butter at that moment.

  “Let the boy have something to eat. His appetite is the reason we’re here,” Jenniline said. “He’d no more than made Lord Birger faint than he decided he was hungry.”

  “You made Birger faint?” Inge asked doubtfully.

  “It was after he put on that light show on top of his tower,” Jenniline replied as Grange took his first bite of buttered bread.

  “I wondered what that was!” Jungar exclaimed.

  “She came to my room for safety and comfort when those lights appeared outside,” Inge explained as he took a slice of bread.

  “So you owe Grange thanks,” Jenniline kept her eyes on Inge, as Jungar looked straight down at the table.

  “I could demonstrate the lights for you some night,” Grange offered.

  “It’s still storming outside!” Jenniline protested.

  “I didn’t mean tonight,” Grange quickly answered, as the musician and an accompanist re-appeared at the front of the room. “I’m going to be doing that for several nights, I imagine,” he said.

  “Why?” Jungar asked. “To scare the city?”

  “No,”Grange started to answer, “it’s to prepare my wand,” he started to say, then was drowned out by a flourish from the mandolin player who strummed the opening notes to a ballad that the singer began to croon.

  They ceased their conversation and listened to the music, Jenniline and Jungar turning around in their seats to watch the musicians behind them, while Grange ate bread and watched the mandolin player fingering the strings on his instrument. Grange had practiced the instrument slightly in his orphanage youth before he had steered towards the flute, and he was mesmerized by the nimble movements of the player’s fingers.

  The plate of lamb chops arrived as the song ended. “I’ll not have any,” Jungar demurely declared. “I’ve eaten dinner already.”

  “So have I, but it won’t stop me from having more,” Jenniline laughed, as she grabbed the top piece of meat, took a bite, then immediately swigged her beer for relief from the heat of the chop.

  Grange cautiously selected a chop, and waited a few seconds for it to cool off, before he took a cautious half bite. Thereafter, the next several minutes were devoted to eating and drinking, as the musicians played their next set of music, received some halfhearted applause, then left to take a break.

  Grange wiped his hands on his pants, as he observed the musicians leave, then he stood up, and walked towards the front of the room.

  “Grange, where are you going?” Jenniline asked sharply, as she drank her second tankard of ale.

  “I want to try the instrument,” he replied. He picked up the mandolin, then leaned against the wall, as he began to experimentally pick out the notes and chords he vaguely remembered from his lessons, and supplemented them with chords he had observed the tavern’s player pluck as he played. After several seconds, he plucked a tune, hesitantly. It was a Palmland tune, a simple one, and he enjoyed his growing confidence in his ability to play the instrument without too many great blunders.

  “What do we have here?” the mandolin player appeared suddenly, with the singer close behind.

  “No threat to your job,” Grange grinned, as he strummed his last notes, then handed the wooden instrument back to its rightful owner.

  “You’ve played before?” the singer asked.

  “Mostly the flute. I just wanted to give this a try; I haven’t touched one in years,” he explained.

  “Do you have your flute handy? Let’s hear you play,” the mandolin player urged.

  Grange hesitated. He could use the power to summon his flute, but the reactions would be predictably bad, he guessed.

  “I don’t have it with me tonight,” he replied.
“But I could come by some night soon and play with you,” he offered.

  “Let’s see how it goes,” the singer hedged. “If you’re just picking this up and playing like that, I think it’s likely we’ll turn you into a regular part of the entertainment here.”

  Grange grinned in acknowledgement of the offer, then returned to the table with his friends.

  “I remember you had that pipe you played in the wilderness,” Jenniline said loudly, as the music started.

  “Are you going to play with them?” Inge asked.

  “I may bring my flute with me when I come back sometime,” Grange admitted. “I used to play a lot. When we were with the apple pickers,” he began, and then told stories about the harvest crew in the hills, and the dances every night.

  “That sounds so carefree,” Jungar said wistfully.

  “It was while it lasted, but it didn’t last forever,” Grange observed.

  “You’ve had your meal, the rain has stopped, and it’s getting late,” Jenniline observed. “Shall we call it a night and return to the palace?” she asked.

  Grange looked across the table at Jungar, who was looking covertly at Inge.

  “I think I’d like to walk back,” he said as he stood. “Would you like to walk with me?” he asked his counselor.

  “Yes,” she immediately stood up, “let’s get going.

  “Thank you for bringing us here,” she said to the two who were still seated. “Now I know where to come look when I can’t find the Champion in the palace,” she laughed. “He’ll be here playing music!”

  They all said their farewells, and Grange waved at the performers as he left the inn with Jenniline.

  “You did alright; maybe you’re not a complete social imbecile,” Jenniline observed as they walked away from the tavern, avoiding the largest puddles along the cobblestone street. “Inge seemed comfortable with you, and you avoided – just barely – spilling the beans to Jungar that we stashed you in her very own home for a few days.”

  “I’m glad you have such high praise for me,” Grange grinned. He pulled his wand free, and began filling it with power once more as they walked.