“Yes,” he agreed, as they started to climb the stairs. “If she is able to talk, I want to talk to her,” he said with a catch in his voice, recollecting the last time he had seen her, after she had suffered the fatal wounds delivered by the demon at the mine. He had kissed her, just seconds before she had dissolved back into dispersed energy.
He stopped halfway up the stairs, as Jenniline grabbed and held him.
“Are you in love with your jewel?” she asked. “Is that why you don’t want to marry one of us? You’ve got a crush on her?”
“No!” Grange grabbed Jenniline’s hand. “I owe my life to her. She fought off demons time after time to save me. She taught me how to use a sword. She lived with me to protect me and teach me. That’s why I want to restore her.
“She is going to help fight the demons; the jewels can kill demons. My sword can kill demons. Not many other things I know of can do that for us right now – we need the jewels to return to life to help fight our war,” he said passionately.
Jenniline looked at his hand, which held her wrist in a tight grip. He followed her gaze, realized that he was squeezing her, and released his hold.
“Sorry,” he said. He was trying to deny something that he knew was true, and he hated being forced to confront that particular truth. Ariana was forever beyond him, and there was no point in pretending otherwise, though he truly did still feel desire for her. And he had no wish to expose his hopeless position to anyone else.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” she told him, as he turned and started climbing the steps again.
“Is she beautiful?” Jenniline asked when they had risen only three steps further.
“Come with me,” he told her, and he led her up to the roof.
“This is Ariana,” he said. He closed his eyes and pictured the girl, calling up a hundred memories of her – fencing, picking apples, dancing, lying in bed.
“Energy, show my vision to Jenniline,” he said softly.
Jenniline was silent. Grange opened his eyes, and saw a watery image of Ariana standing just in front of him, blinking her eyes as her hands were demurely clasped in front of her waist.
“I suppose that by the standards of the northerners, who like that dark complexion – they live with it, after all,” Jenniline sniffed, “I suppose she is pretty enough.”
“So this is the one who was foretold to be your companion in battle?” the image startled Grange by speaking. Ariana examined Jenniline assiduously, and Grange saw the startled princess squirm under the inspection.
“She is beautiful, and I see the strength and passion in her soul. You have been well-blessed with this one, Campeaodeuses,” Ariana told him.
“I look forward to when you restore me. We have a long journey ahead to restore my sisters as well. Now release me, and wait for the instructions that will arrive soon,” the vision told Grange.
He stared in shock, then snapped out of the stasis as she snapped her ephemeral fingers in front of his face. With a wave of his hand he released the energy he had called into service, and the vision disappeared.
“Oh spirits! You brought a ghost to talk to us! How did you do that?” Jenniline asked. Her jaw hung slightly opened as she looked from Grange to the spot where the shade of Ariana has stood.
“I didn’t do that; not all of it, anyway,” Grange said. “I just created the image, but I didn’t give it the power to speak. That was something she did on her own.
“She likes you,” he added. He was slightly startled by the things the elemental had said about Jenniline, especially the reference to the princess as his companion in battle. It implied a closeness and a continuation of their relationship that Grange had not counted on.
The two of them looked at one another speculatively.
“You planned to try to talk to her secretly, didn’t you?” Jenniline asked.
“Yes,” Grange admitted. “But there’s no point in that now,” he added. “She said I’ll have to wait for instructions.”
“Tell me one thing before I leave,” Jenniline said softly. She stepped closer to him, and he stepped towards her, to catch the words that she barely seemed to breathe.
“How could you project an image of our kiss for the whole city to see?” she shouted loudly, just inches from his face.
“Do you think I had any control last night?” he answered hotly. “I just barely managed to carry out all the steps that were needed. I might not have stopped at the kiss if,” he stopped abruptly, recollecting the power and the passion they had shared, and the reaction of the energy, which had started to lift their feet off the tower.
“I know,” she said softly. She stepped back.
“I’m going to go around the palace; I’ll see you after lunch at the armory?” she asked as she excused herself.
Grange nodded his head. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I want to see what that kiss did to the odds,” she laughed, and then she was gone.
Grange grinned at her insouciance, then he pondered what he should do. He felt a compulsion to not add any more energy to Ariana’s jewel; something in the conversation with the spirit told him that he needed to wait for the promised instructions.
But his wand was another matter. He pulled it off his hip, and felt the comfort of the contact with his skin once more. He had discharged it the night before, so it was ready to be refilled with energy – now, for the first time, a true wand that would answer to him and him alone, and would conform to the desires and wishes he had transposed upon it.
He called upon the energy, and lifted his bed up from the floor below, and then brought up the chairs as well. He took a seat in one of the chairs and began to pour energy into the wand. He watched the glow of the power appear in the air around the wand. It appeared in a wider globe than he had seen before; he was calling upon so much energy that it gained visible mass further from the wand’s tip than previously, and it poured into the slender stick with a steady pace.
The wand seemed eager to receive the energy. He could feel some characteristic that was like satisfaction in the non-living artifact, as power filled it. The wand was devoted to holding power for him, to do his bidding.
He sat and let the wand absorb energy, content to spend time with it throughout the morning. He nearly nodded off once, through the combination of the lazy comfort of sitting in the chair and enjoying the sunshine and company of the wand. When he felt pangs of hunger he decided to go eat lunch, then go to the armory and begin his workout and practice with the others.
At the end of the workout, challenged by a host of others who he fought, one at a time, and defeated, time after time after time, Halsten approached him.
“Your audience will be at sunset, on the day after tomorrow. That will give most of the members of the court out in the countryside time to come to the palace if they want,” the prince explained.
Grange thanked him for making the arrangements, then departed and returned to the roof top.
The moon was starting to rise, and Grange turned to it, eager to communicate with Brieed. He tried to remember the directions the master wizard had given him, about a tower in the mountains, west of Palmland city. He hoped he could generalize his target well enough to find the wizard.
“Master Brieed, if you hear me, this is Grange,” he began. “I have succeeded in completing my wand! I followed your directions and held the ceremony last night. The wand feels alive to me now, and I truly believe it will help me greatly in the battle with the demons.
“And I also have brought the spirit of one of the jewels partially back to life. She has spoken to me, and told me that I will receive further direction soon,” he added.
“I will speak to the court of the King of Southgar in two more days, and then I plan to go visit the Bloomingian outcasts, which is one of the things Acton instructed me to do,” Grange explained. “I think these things must mean that the time of the war with the demons is starting to draw closer,” he paused at the realization of w
hat he had just said. “And I am not ready for it yet,” he added in a softer voice.
“Please tell me how things fare for all of you. I am still here on my tower roof, at the same place as before,” he finished. “Farewell.”
Chapter 26
Two days later, Grange stood resolutely in an antechamber, just outside the great audience hall of the palace, where the noblemen of the realm were gathering to await his appearance and announcement. He knew that he was only moments away from hearing a knock on the door in front of him, an invitation from a footman for him to enter the large chamber and approach the throne.
The king would then enter, and Grange would outline his plan to fulfill the conditions laid out by Acton. He would talk about the energization of his wand, then disclose his plan to go to the wildness camp of the outcasts, and convince them to reunite with the rest of the Southgar population – somehow.
And he would promise to name his chosen future bride upon his return.
There was bound to be dismay at the idea of bringing the Bloomingians back to the capital, Jenniline had warned when they had spoken the previous evening. “Think about the battles over who retains ownership of the manor houses that were abandoned by them and occupied by father’s allies,” she explained.
“It is what Acton commanded me to do,” Grange said resolutely.
“I know,” Jenniline told him. “I’m just pointing out that there will be consequences, and there will be opponents who want to avoid those consequences, regardless of their cause – regal or sacred or legal or whatever.”
Among the members of the court there would be a lesser brand of dismay, but a still passionate response, when he thwarted the expectations of the bettors and delayed his princess choice.
“I’m a four to one favorite now,” Jenniline told him sourly. “You must have made that kiss look more passionate than I thought it was.”
Grange bit his tongue rather than point out that she had responded to the kiss with as much fervor as he had while they were both in the throes of the energy’s influence.
Yet so many things would remain unsaid and unknown during the audience. He would not mention the revival of the jewels, as he awaited instruction on that. He would not mention copying the power of his sword, to create more weapons to overcome the demons. He would not mention the absolute lack of communication from Acton. And he would try to avoid mentioning the promise of punishment that Shaine had laid upon him; probably there were many among the court members who had fervently prayed to the goddess to request his punishment, he thought bitterly for just a moment.
There was a rap on the door, telling him that the time had come. He took in a deep breath, then blew it out. He opened the door, and walked resolutely straight forward, heading towards the empty throne that was straight ahead. Along the side walls there was a considerable crowd, and on the steps below the throne there were several older men, men of serious and warlike demeanors, sitting and studying Grange.
A procession of princesses strolled onto the stage, and walked down one step, then filled the six empty chairs that were to the left of the throne, separated by space from the nobles of the realm. Jenniline led the procession, followed by Hope, Paile, Hilto, Acco, and the youngest princess, Brigin, an eleven year old ingénue who Grange understood was mad at him because he had not bothered to include her on the list of princesses he had interviewed as possible brides. The six sisters stepped to the six seats, and sat down, adding a touch of softness to the otherwise grim countenances of the nobles on the stage.
All the nobles Grange had seen or known or heard of were there. Wilder, the Protector of the throne, the man in whose house Grange had been hidden and allowed to heal, unbeknownst to the nobleman. There was Earl Goala, the king’s brother, who had tricked Grange and then taken him captive. Baron Holmgren, who was rude, and Lord Birger, who was silent when around Grange. There were others, many others as well, most of whom Grange did not know.
Another movement attracted his attention as Grange came to a halt at the prescribed spot from which he was to speak. Inge and Halsten stepped out from behind a curtain and took seats immediately next to the throne, Inge on the left and Halsten on the right.
And moments later, apparently not standing on ceremony, and not keeping the court waiting, King Magnus emerged and took his seat between his sons. There was a murmur of words of greeting, and a shuffling of feet as the attendees gave gently bows, and then silence.
“His majesty, King Magnus of Southgar, receives and will hear the report of the Champion of Acton, Grange, son of Ragnar,” a court official pronounced. That too drew a few slight murmurs, these being words of discontent among some of the more stalwart members of the court, who had fought with Magnus to overthrow Grange’s father.
“Your majesty, and members of the court,” Grange began, “I am here to let you know that I am going to proceed with the command that was given by mighty Acton, and I will soon leave your court to go south into the wilderness. I will approach the camp of the refugees who have left Southgar, and I will bring them back into your kingdom.”
He had decided to deliberately refer to Southgar as Magnus’s kingdom, to try to assure everyone that Grange was not seeking to overthrow the king.
“And as you may know, I have achieved the fullness of creating my wizard’s wand, which will give me greater power and ability to fight in the future war against the demons,” he added.
“What about your bride?” one of the noblemen asked.
Grange wasn’t sure which one it was. The choice of a mate was not only something he wished to avoid, but it really didn’t seem as important to Grange as the matters of the reconciliation with the Bloomingians, or the creation of the wand, or the battle with the demons – but it seemed to be the thing the court cared about most, he knew.
“I haven’t made the decision yet,” Grange said coolly. He looked at the line of princesses, who all were carefully looking away from him, all except Jenniline on one end, and Brigin on the other.
He felt a moment of instant inspiration. “I have forgotten to interview one of the princesses, and until I talk to them all, it wouldn’t be fair to choose one.
“Princess Brigin,” he spoke to the girl, “when I return from the encounter with the Bloomingians, I hope you will honor me with an audience.”
The girl looked at him gravely, then gave a slight nod of acquiescence. There was a round of titters among the onlookers.
“This is a farce,” Earl Goala was clearly the speaker who protested.
“Brother, allow the Champion to speak,” Magnus admonished his brother.
“Magnus, if Acton told the boy to pick one of your daughters, he needs to do it. He needs to prove that your line is going to remain on the throne,” Goala spoke up, despite the words from the throne. There was a small wave of comments of approval from several of the noblemen.
“How do we know he’s not going to return to the Bloomingians, pick one of theirs as his queen, and come back up here to displace you and all of us?” Goala challenged. “I want this display of good faith, in accordance with what the gods have ordered him to do!”
“I will not choose a Bloomingian as my mate, I pledge,” Grange tried to sound sincere and honest, to defuse the Earl’s displeasure, though Grange didn’t truly care if the old man was happy or not.
“We all know you’ve debauched one princess already,” Baron Holmgren spoke up. “Make an honest woman of her and announce you’ll marry her, or make her your first concubine, or do whatever you intend to do.”
Grange felt his vision fade for a moment, as a rush of angry blood suffused his face.
“You take that back!” Grange shouted. “I have not done anything improper with any woman here, except for one kiss!”
“Grange!” Jenniline stood up from her seat. Her face looked as red as his felt. “Don’t! Ignore them. Don’t let them goad you. You’re here to address the king, and him only,” she advised.
“I am not going to
let the whole court believe these lies about you,” Grange said with an effort to control his temper.
“This woman is a virgin,” he announced. “My ceremony to finish my wand would not have worked if she wasn’t.”
“Grange!” Jenniline practically screamed at him, as the court erupted in a hundred conversations. “You are not here to talk about me, or my state of affairs.”
“She may have been a virgin before, but is she one now?” Holmgren sneered.
“That does it!” Grange knew that he needed to control his temper, but the old warrior at the right of the stage was irritating him.
“I challenge you to single battle, right now,” Grange said. He intended to take out his aggravation quickly, pink the nobleman’s arm, disarm his weapon, and go on with the rest of the ceremony, if any further was possible. Not that any was really needed – he didn’t have much more to say.
“You can’t be using any of that magic of yours,” Holmgren said. “I’ll show you how an honest man fights with sword, if you dare to fight honestly in front of all these witnesses.”
The court was dissolving into chaos.
“Father, stop this,” Grange heard Halsten urge the king.
“We both know how this will play out. Let the lad teach his lesson to old Holmgren,” Magnus answered.
Holmgren pulled his sword free as he stepped down to the floor level, while Grange began to reach for his own sword.
And then in a matter of two seconds, the room grew gloomy, as dark and swirling vicious clouds suddenly blotted out the sun overhead, cutting off the sunlight that had streamed into the room through the windows. Two loud claps of thunder sounded directly overhead, rattling the very foundation of the palace, and then a third clap sounded just as loud.
With the third clap of thunder there came two blinding bolts of lightning that flashed in instantaneous coordination with the thunder. When the lightning bolts faded, Shaine was standing in the center of the assembly hall floor, taller than any two men together, dressed in a black leather dress, with eyes that glowed red.
The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) Page 28