by Cale Madison
Sir Ivan accompanied us across the bridge to the palace gate, a tall, iron-clad barrier with sharp prongs that sunk into indentations in the stone ground. Guards above us identified our escort and began to raise the gate by pushing a strange levering device. The white-stone castle seemed quite impressive in stature and design. It rested in the crux of two grey hills, carpeted with oaks and pines.
We stepped into the palace courtyard, where many cloaked men and women kneeled, facing the two main towers with lit candles surrounding them. Children sat on the ground, picking at blades of grass or tossing rocks in their infantile state of restlessness. Some of the women wore veils that covered their faces. They were paying homage to someone they had lost. The prince, perhaps?
As we walked past their candles, torches and candelabras, I caught their sideways glances and recognized the fear in their eyes. These people were not only mourning but also praying. A man donning a red hood stood above them, moving through the crowd with his hands clutching a Holy Book. The mothers and children refrained from moving their heads as they silently mouthed individual prayers. As he walked past them, he would gingerly run his palm along their foreheads or shoulders.
“We can not cower under the claws of the wretched. Tonight, we bring our light into the dark of the Realm, as we have for many nights before. Cast out the shadows and the horrid creatures that dwell among them. Light a path for young Malachi to return home to his family.” Cassius announced to the kneeling civilians, “Light a path for all. For our friends, our family, lovers and theirs. Alone, we are craven, easily picked apart by these beasts but together, oh together, we are strong. As one, we are mighty! Pray, now.”
The majority of his audience remained silent with some raising their hands as if reaching out for his. He moved in between the isles of men, women and children, all grasping lit candles or bushels of plucked flowers.
“We must look to our Goddess for forgiveness and ask her to have clemency on our souls. We will not be forsaken, as long as our love and devotion remain intact for Her. Rest easy in your warm beds tonight, knowing that She watches over each and every one of us. Do not be afraid of the devil’s spawns that lurk beyond our walls...we are stronger than them...we are mightier than them. We will overcome this evil that plagues us.”
Sir Ivan shook hands with the priest, who greeted him and noticed the three of us standing behind. His clean-shaven face was without blemish and his eyes were hardened and brown. He asked us, “Might I ask who you three are? Have you come to pay respects?”
“These are the summoned hires from the king.” Ivan replied for us.
“Ah, the infamous Caine Mercer,” Cassius replied, reaching out for whoever would shake his hand. I grabbed his cold, clammy palm and he gripped mine tightly, “Pleasure to have met your acquaintance, sir. Good to hear we’ll have another set of ears to the ground. My name is Cassius. I am the esteemed priest of the Lockmour House.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Have you accepted the one true Goddess into your hearts?” Cassius asked the three of us. Aketa nodded, I reluctantly shrugged and the baron said nothing. He continued to preach, “These are dark times. Wars, diseases, famines and monsters...we need Her grace now, more than ever. Pray with me, please. Bow your heads and repeat after me, if you will.”
“Which Gods do you speak for, Cassius? The one with the head of a mule and the body of a porcupine? Or the tree gods? For fire, for thicker hair or what? Obviously, the hair god.” Skalige interrupted, slightly irritating the bald priest already. Nearby, the kneeling civilians took notice to the baron’s jests, their bewildered faces lighting up in the candlelights beneath them.
“I speak for the one true Goddess, Opheria. Her everlasting love binds us, makes us whole. None may look to others, only Her.” Cassius explained, “When the day comes that you cross onto Her lands past the White Shores, I hope she also shares your crass humor.”
“Would make for a dull time if she doesn’t.”
Cassius did not reply.
“Where I come from, the better swordsmith is the one you praise. We pray for rain and yielding crops, as does any city, but your religion goes hand-in-hand with sorcerer’s magic...just hoary tales of elements that cannot be explained.” the baron debated with fierce determination, “Tell me this, priest, if darling Opheria is watching out for us, why has She let the prince disappear? Why does She allow thousands of people to starve while their fat lords eat their fill and laugh from their thrones?”
Cassius thought for a moment and then answered, “Perhaps, Her involvement is in other ways. To right some hidden wrongs or teach lessons, as Her actions usually entail. She will cure your blindness, in time.”
“It’s all horse shit. I didn’t travel across two seas to hear this.”
“Blasphemous words from an untrained mind. ” Cassius argued before leaving us. I
nudged my friend and told him to refrain from agitating any further allies in this foreign land. Ivan shook his head and prompted us to follow him. As we departed from the mourning crowd, I overheard the slight whispers of children and their families.
“Is that him? The man who slayed the vampire and the werewolf?” one little girl asked her mother, “He’s much taller than the stories say.”
“Do you think he’s here to kill the beast?” a young boy inquired to his father, who whispered something that we could not hear. It seemed that Petri’s ballads had reached Tuskan in a matter of months, sparking our legacy amongst the gossiping locals.
“It will make stew from his bones!” a blue-eyed girl cried out, cackling alongside her
circle of friends. Sir Ivan whispered unintelligible words to one of the palace guards, who quickly retreated into one of the many hallways that connected to the courtyard. The guard returned with a young stable hand who then reached for Nadi’s reins; I hesitated to hand her over to this stranger but I trusted Ivan’s judgement.
“Don’t worry. He’s going to take care of her. We have remedies that will treat the poison.” he reassured me. I released her reins and allowed the stable-boy to lead her off to be tended to, watching with hope as they both disappeared behind the stable’s gate.
CHAPTER THREE
A KING’S COVENANT
The three of us were instructed to wait for the King’s Hand in one of the palace’s studies that connected to the main corridor. Skalige sat on a marble set of stairs, flipping a dagger in his left hand. Aketa stood by the wall, admiring the many exhibits of foreign creatures and game. I joined her at her side when she said, “Caine, look...it’s a jahcelot.”
I peered into the glass case to see the enormous skeleton of a great beast, nearly twice the size of the baron. Its elongated arms and feet reminded me of a troll. Propped in the jahcelot’s hand was a wooden club, carved from the branch of an oak tree.
“Wait, you can identify jahcelots from their skeletons?”
“I read about them in school.” she explained as she pressed her curious face to the glass, “Their bone structure is made of this opal-like substance...and their skin is entirely translucent. You can see their veins, organs and everything.”
“Where do they live?”
“They’re water creatures, so natural springs and rivers would be my guess. It’s incredible that they managed to catch one. Either that or they found a dead one lying around. I never thought I’d see one in person. They’re so rare.” she said, leaving finger-print smudges on the exhibit, “Some idiot placed a club in its hand, as if an adult jahcelot would even need one.”
“I’ve seen jahcelots use spears.” Skalige announced, proudly.
“No, you haven’t.” Aketa retorted.
“Yes, I have! During a raid in Nera’wen, we saw a pair of ‘em using traps to catch salmon in a river. They must have evolved, learned from watching us.”
“They wouldn’t need to use traps? They can swim faster than any salmon, anyway.” said Aketa, who was beginning to grow annoyed. “Jahcelots hunt for fish the sa
me way as any bear! Using their claws!”
As the two bickered, I examined the monster’s bones from different angles of the glass case. Before I could interrupt their debate, I swung my arm and felt something heavy knock against my elbow. An ear-rattling crash echoed through the corridor as an antique vase shattered on the stone floor. The three of us stood in shock, staring at a heaping pile of broken shards. Skalige cursed under his breath.
“We’re here for five minutes and you already break something?!” Aketa snapped as she began gathering together the pieces.
“You’re not helping.” I reminded her, “Can we put them back together?”
“Unless you can piece together hundreds of fragments in five minutes, then I think not.” Skalige replied, eyeing the tiny pieces in his hand, “In the Isles, the crime of tampering with historical artifacts will leave you without a hand.”
“It could’ve been a dinner dish? Who says it was an artifact?” I inquired, mostly to ease my own guilt.
“Why would a dinner dish be sitting on its own podium in a trophy room? That doesn’t even ma-”
Then, we heard the distant creak of a door swinging open.
“Shit, hurry! We have to hide it!” I said in a hurried panic as a set of footprints began to approach the trophy room. Skalige casually lifted one end of the wool carpet, allowing me to conceal the fragmented pieces from sight. Once the deed was done, I positioned myself in between the door and the empty podium where the vase one sat. Three armored guards then entered the room. One announced, “Sir Mercer and company, you may now follow us to His Majesty’s council room.”
We were then led up a flight of beautiful, white stairs to a chamber with dress clothes and fitting rooms. Our escorts left us alone with only a tall, proud man who stood confidently beside a magnificently decorated door. The short-haired stranger wore black trousers, a finely-hemmed red tunic and sported a thin, curly mustache that covered his upper lip. His broad shoulders and concentrated stance indicated that he came from a militaristic background.
“Can’t trust men like that.” Skalige whispered to me, “I’m telling you: wispy mustaches absolutely cannot be trusted.”
“What makes you say that?”
“My father’s banker and his banker’s father before him. All wispy mustached scoundrels, the lot of ‘em. Stole from my family and each was hanged. Just trust me.”
The mustached man greeted and approached us from across the chamber. He announced with his voice echoing, “Salutations, good sirs and madame! You must be the distinguished guests of his Majesty. Come in, come in, let me have a good look at you.”
The man’s eyes were a shade of murky brown. His black hair was cut short, revealing faint scars on his scalp. He brought a peculiar pair of spectacles to his eyes, which could focus in-depth on whatever he decided to gaze upon by twisting a small crank on the side. He examined my tunic and Aketa’s dress before moving towards Skalige in his outfit while muttering in disadmiration.
“Pity, pity. My name is Gavin. I am the appointed Lord of House Lockmour and the King’s Hand. I’m certain your minds are reeling with questions but, first, I have to make sure you are appropriately attired to meet with his Majesty.” he declared and clapped his hands, signaling for several beautiful women to enter the chamber with us, “These lovely ladies will be your groomers, your cleaners and anything you...may wish for them to be.”
Gavin said the last few words as he passed the baron. Six young chambermaids cleaned our clothes as we wore them, stitching the breaks in our fabrics, flattening out creases and cleaning our matted, dirty hair. The Lord watched intently as his women scrubbed diligently and polished his guests to absolute perfection. Aketa noticed a maiden smiling at me and quickly snapped at her, “Fix his cufflink, eyes down!”
I had to laugh at this.
“Splendid.” Gavin pronounced once the ladies were finished, “You are now fit to dine with a noble’s family. You all, leave us.”
The giggling women scuttered away like mice retreating to their holes in the castle wall, leaving us alone with Gavin again. I could tell that this short-haired man did not approve of our fashion but was undoubtedly pressed for time. His dark eyes gleamed in the light of the surrounding candelabras, reflecting their glowing flames as they flickered.
“When you meet his Majesty, you will pay your respects: state your surname and the name of your house and the province you hail from. You will address His Majesty as ‘sire’, ‘Your Majesty’, ‘Your Imperial Excellency’, or ‘Your Royal Highness’. Baron or not, you will abide by these delegations, is that understood?” he asked us, “Do not inquire too many questions and never show contempt.”
“Understood.” we answered, respectfully.
“Very good.” Lord Gavin said before turning to lead us towards the golden door, “I will wait for you out here, after your council.”
He gently eased open the doors and we laid eyes upon King Darius’s glorious armory. The King stood facing a giant window, where you could clearly see the lush countryside that we had become so acquainted with. His long, blonde hair held a fantastic golden crown with various assortments of jewels embedded within. He wore a royal, strawberry-red gown that stretched past his knees. The outfit was intricately hemmed and lined with patterns of the Tuskan crest. When he turned, his withered face startled us. He had eyes as blue as the clearest sea, freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks and a square jawline. His wrinkled brow showed years of stress and burdening.
Gavin showed us inside, bowed respectfully and then exited.
“You must be Caine Mercer, the one I’ve heard so much about,” Darius said after turning towards us, “and I see you’ve brought company.”
“From the province of Mercia, your Majesty.” I replied, remembering my instructions from Gavin. Aketa followed suit, stating her title as well. Skalige said nothing and Darius noticed his presence immediately. His posture stiffened, as if they had some history with one another.
“I did not know we allowed war dogs into the palace now,” he said, coldly as he approached my friend to inquire further, “Aketa’s his wife, so why are you here?”
“Had to make sure my friends here could make it to your doorstep safe and sound.” Skalige answered, stiffly, “Since the war started, those waters have become awful dangerous for those without a strong fleet, and mine’s the strongest.”
“I presume that my wife orchestrated our involvement the Isles. War dogs have never belonged in castles. They would not show us the same courtesy in the Badlands, would they? I thought not.” he said, turning up his nose.
“I am no dog,” Skalige replied, “I’m the one who holds their leashes, and if this is how you treat invited guests, you can take that pretty crown of yours, hike up that red dress and shove it up yo-”
“Skalige Beucront? Fascinating to see you now after years of blocked trade in the Isles. Seems your arrogance has cost you half of your face. Baron or not, I would like to continue the remainder of this conversation with my invited guest...not his escort. With all due respect of course, my lady,” Darius said directly to my company, “would you two mind as to wait outside?”
Skalige departed, gruffly muttering choice words under his breath while Aketa hesitated and squeezed my arm. Once the two had departed, Darius changed his tone and shook my hand with a tight fist, saying, “Thank the Gods we get a little peace and quiet now. I cannot stand war dogs and women, Caine. No disrespect to your wife, of course. My marriage - thirty-six years, still counting.”
“Impressive.”
“I can tell it wasn’t your idea for her to accompany you here, but the more the merrier. I wish that I had brought you here on better tidings, though. Something terrible has happened.” Darius said as he walked towards a painting of his family that hung on the wall, “My eldest son, Malachi disappeared nearly six nights ago. I fear the very worst has happened to him.”
“Have you considered he’s perhaps staying in a neighboring village? Did he ever
behave like he wanted to leave?” I asked but the King waved it away quickly.
“No, no, Malachi loved it here. I’ve summoned you here because I feel that this, eh, task requires the determination and focus of the man I’ve heard so many stories about. They say you’ve tracked a higher vampire, slayed werewolves and bested dragons. Certainly, finding a lost boy would be easy for a champion like yourself.”
“To be honest, sir, everything that happened to me...everything that the stories speak of, all happened out of coincidence. I survived those perils. They were no conquests.” I argued with honesty.
“Well, of course? Few knights leave their homes anticipating to become heroes, yet by fate’s coincidence, they become legends. You handled dragons, monsters, and a cursed djinn of all demonic entities...all for one woman. I trust you with this assignment more than my most experienced general.” said the king as he placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Darius smiled, as if a tiny spark of hope had awakened in his weary soul. He began to explain further details, “This has to stay between us, Caine. The last thing my people need to hear right now is that their eldest prince has been possibly kidnapped. They know that he’s vanished, not the full extent of the story. We don’t need unwanted attention being drawn into this, understand?”
I nodded and he continued to say, “I, personally, have reason to believe that Malachi has been taken. By what, or whom, I do not know. I’ve joined search parties and we’ve combed every inch of Tuskan but found nothing. The only lead we have is a footprint and a collapsed farmhouse.”
“A footprint?”
“A giant’s footprint, Caine. Elder men and women tell us of an ancient giant that once roamed the Gorgon Hills, eating farmer’s livestock and leaving ruin wherever it went. These monsters sleep for decades at a time, which would explain why it’s waited until now to cause a disruption. They say that my great-grandfather, Arvus V, drove it back up the mountain with nothing but a torch and a sword.” the King said, nervously twisting a golden ring on his finger, “I’ve no reason to believe the giant took my son, but Malachi’s known to get himself into trouble. Someone took him, I’m sure of it.”