Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  The smith looked at the mysterious man, who now journeyed with them, and wondered what Jared’s intentions were. The hunter had not done anything overt since they had met, but Branden was not so blind as to miss the way Jared looked at both his daughters. More troubling was the way they looked at him. Branden again felt himself bristle as he watched the hunter. Jared did not seem to notice the smith’s gaze, as intent as he was in studying the city around them. Ever since entering the city, the woodsman had tied a piece of cloth up over his nose and mouth, complaining that the smells bothered him. However, to Branden the city’s smells reminded him of home.

  Branden patted his daughter’s hand and then prodded his horse to continue. Passing by the smaller buildings, they continued south, where the homes became larger and nicer. Thatched roofs and walls of rough-hewn stone soon gave way to roofs of shingled slate and plaster-covered brick. The homes of the common laborer soon became the houses of craftsmen and scholars. The streets became gradually cleaner too.

  While the main road, upon which they traveled, had always been cobbled, the side streets that lead off of it were now paved as well, as opposed to the dirt streets that were closer to the city walls. As they approached the river and the bridges that crossed over them, Branden saw several houses that even had a second story. In his days in Aeirsga, he could have counted on one hand the two story buildings on this side of the river. Now, though, there were second floors as far as the eye could see boarding the river. Much had changed in the twenty or so years that he had been gone.

  The palace itself was the same though, a large collection of buildings that reached towards the sky, towering above the city around it. The Royal Palace was made of white marble surrounded by a high wall of the same stone. The mood of the palace, if such could be said of a structure of stone and wood, was often influenced by the light it reflected. In the morning, the palace walls were a soft yellow color, warmed by the golden rays of the newborn sun, promising a future of prosperity at the dawn of each new day. By noon, the palace nearly glowed white in the full light of day, serving as a shining beacon for miles around that this was the heart of the Kingdom of Illyander: bold, untarnished, and dauntless.

  Branden’s favorite time to look at the palace had always been under the light of a full moon. The soft silvery light that looked down from the Mother’s Eye gave the palace an eldritch look, as though it were an arcane mirage cast and crafted by the world’s most powerful and talented sorcerers, almost too beautiful to be true.

  The rays of the setting sun now tinted the walls of the palace a golden red, reminding Branden of the soft glowing embers of his hearth in Snowhaven. Warm and inviting as it was, it made the smith wonder if his home still stood.

  “Halt! What business do you have in the inner city?” The words of the guardsman, who stood before them, tore Branden’s eyes and thoughts away from the palace. A handful of the City Watch stood sentinel on this side of the bridge, challenging anyone who attempted to cross over the massive stone edifice that spanned the waters. The bridge was a gently arcing path that was easily wide enough for three, Trades Guild caravan wagons to travel side by side by side, without their wheels being in any danger of touching.

  The northern bridge was flanked by four towers, two on each side of the river. Both the bridge and the towers, made of the same stout brown stone as the outer walls of the city, that stood guard above were crafted with greater care. Any wheel that rode over it would have a smooth a ride, and any hand that attempted to climb the towers would find no purchase.

  It was before this immense bridge and between these two stout towers that the guardsman stood as he stopped Branden and his companions. The wooden arms of a small gate were pulled down behind him, and several guards stood at attention before it. Branden immediately noticed a difference between these guards and the men he had encountered at the city gate. Much like the towers that stood beside them, these men were of a finer quality than their companions at the city wall. Their uniforms were cleaner, their gear was oiled and polished, and their stances spoke of men who took their duty seriously. Branden thought they looked more like the men he had commanded when he was a member of the City Watch. The man who had spoken to them had done so with a voice of authority, not rude, but in a tone that brooked no disobedience. Branden found himself nodding in approval.

  Mala dismounted and presented herself to the guard, a young, well-groomed man in his thirties, with straight brown hair to just below his ears and a short bristly beard. The guard questioned Mala in a way that the smith found appropriate, asking for identification, not taking her at her word that she was a Swordmistress of Snowhaven, all while maintaining a professional demeanor. The guard then went on to question Mala’s companions, pausing only when he reached Talas and Jared.

  The presence of refugees from Snowhaven, Branden and his daughters, in the company of a swordmistress was easy to account for. Talas and Jared were, however, more enigmatic. Mala vouched for them both, saying that Talas was a former solider, who upon hearing of the problems in Snowhaven, had offered to help her in any way that he could. Branden noticed that Mala failed to mention that Talas had been a mercenary for several years, but she didn’t feel the need to reveal this piece of information at the time.

  Jared, Mala told the guard, was a tracker and scout, who had joined them along the way. Mala said that the hunter’s talents in running trail and finding game had been invaluable to them. She failed to mention that Jared was primarily employed as a bounty hunter, but Branden again kept his own council on the matter. Jared was made to remove his mask and told his face was to remain uncovered at all times, while in the inner city. Branden, to his own minor shame, enjoyed the obvious look of displeasure that crossed Jared’s face at this decree. The hunter only nodded that he understood, while submitting to a search of his saddlebags and pack.

  Branden did notice that Jared was the only member of their party that was subjected to such treatment. Branden had mixed feelings about this singling out of the hunter. On the one hand, Jared did look the most suspicious of them all, even without the crow perched on his shoulder, which was Chyla in disguise. However, if a search was performed on Jared, then it should have been performed on them all. Perhaps the guard is giving Mala a bit of leeway due to her position, Branden thought. Regardless, the former King’s Guard intended to have a few words with the captain of the City Watch, whoever that may be these days.

  Soon enough, they were each handed a token, and their names were recorded in the watch logs. Branden and his companions were warned not to lose the tokens or exchange them amongst themselves. At any time, they could be asked to present the tokens to a city guard. Should they not have the marker or be found to have the wrong marker, they would be immediately escorted across the bridge and out of the inner city. Although this method of keeping track of visitors to the inner city had not been in place when the smith was a member of the guard, the system seemed sound enough. It kept track of who had crossed into the inner city and allowed a quick and easy way to determine if someone who was already in the inner city should be there. Branden silently nodded his approval.

  After crossing the bridge, Mala kicked her horse into a trot and hurried to the palace. Branden and the others nudged their horses forward to keep pace. The buildings of the inner city rushed by and Branden gave them little notice. The homes of the aristocrats who lived on this side of the bridges had not changed at all. All of the houses were at least two, sometimes three stories tall, made of white plaster over brick, with only the dark wooden frames showing through the stucco. Branden knew from past experience that even with the shortage of land on the island, most managed to have a small yard or garden. None were visible though, behind the high stone walls that surrounded houses, as they hurried past.

  As they turned onto the main avenue that led to the palace, the full structure came into view. Branden looked to see the shocked expressions on the face of his daughters and Jared. The palace itself was immense and never faile
d to make an impression on the first time visitor. One’s vision was instantly drawn to the Tower of the King, which loomed high above all the surrounding palace buildings. As the eye fell from the tower, one saw the main buildings of the structure. No dwarves themselves, these edifices were five stories tall and easily visible above the twenty foot walls that surrounded the palace.

  As they advanced, the palace gates came into view. The elaborately wrought doors of iron were as beautiful as they were sturdy. Fashioned by the finest blacksmiths in the kingdom, they were further fortified by the King’s Magus himself. Each day the Magus would visit the gates and inspect the ensorcelled iron personally, to make sure that his spells held strong. Never, in the years that Branden had served in the palace, had he known the magical wards to need maintenance.

  It was at these same gates that the smith from Snowhaven and his companions were stopped again. Although he knew the reasons behind these challenges, Branden started to feel impatient. He looked at the others. Mala visibly wore her irritation for all to see, but to her credit kept her temper. Talas and Sasha sat stoically on their mounts, waiting to proceed. Jared looked all around, eyes scanning the tops of the walls where a contingent of archers watched over them.

  The hunter’s gaze also darted to the houses that surrounded the palace. Although there was a hundred yards between the palace walls and the nearest house, Jared seemed to be expecting someone to come rushing out of the houses at any moment and be upon them in a heartbeat. Branden was reminded of the few times he had seen a caged animal, when he looked upon the woodsman here. Katya’s eyes on the other hand seemed unfocused, as she looked intently at the closed gates before them. Watching her for several moments, the smith chalked up his dark-haired daughter’s behavior as one of the many things that sorcerers did that he would never understand and then returned his attention to the Palace Guard.

  “I’m sorry Swordmistress Mala,” the Palace Guard apologized to the older woman standing before him. “His Majesty is not accepting visitors today. He is in chambers all day with his advisors.”

  “But we have important information for him,” Mala stated, anger hot in her tone.

  “I understand that, Mistress. However, we are under orders that His Majesty not be disturbed. If you like to leave a note for his chancellor, along with where you are staying, I am sure that arrangements could be made for you to meet with His Majesty at a later time.”

  “If Chancellor Umbras’ eyes haven’t grown so old that they can’t see the paper before his face,” Branden commented. The palace guardsman’s head snapped up quickly from Mala to where the smith sat atop his horse.

  “Your pardon, sir?” the guard asked, turning fully to face Branden as he slowly dismounted. Clad in mail and wearing the entwined dragons of Illyander on a blue and red tabard, which Branden noticed approvingly was spotless and without wrinkle, the guard showed no fear as the massive smith approached him. The former King’s Guard did, however, notice a rustling amongst the archers above him.

  “I said,” Branden replied in a more audible tone, “that we would be lucky if Chancellor Umbras could read any note left for him.” Branden towered above the guard before him by easily a foot, but the younger man, perhaps in his early thirties with short cropped blonde hair, did not flinch. The smith was glad to note that the great standards, by which the Palace Guard held to, had not slipped in the years of his absence.

  “I would ask you, sir,” the younger man replied, “that you remember you are His Majesty’s guests here in Aeirsga and, as such, treat the members of his household with the respect they deserve.” The guard’s tone, though polite, was laced with iron. The intent was clear; insults to the King or his agents would not be tolerated.

  Branden laughed heartily, evoking a look of cautious confusion from the guard. “Good, good,” the big man chuckled. “It’s nice to see that the Old Man still engenders the loyalty of the Palace Guard.” ‘Old Man’ was a title of affection that had been bestowed upon Chancellor Umbras, when Branden was a member of the Palace Guard. Umbras treated each and every member of the Palace Guard like his own son or daughter, and, for those that may have lost their fathers, the attentions of the Old Man were a welcome comfort. Old when Branden served the palace, Umbras had to be positively ancient by now, but the smith was glad to hear that the chancellor was still alive.

  The guard seemed to relax a bit before he next said, “To use that nickname for the Chancellor, you would either have to be a friend or a former member of the Palace Guard yourself…” The guard’s voice trailed off, as a cue for Branden to introduce himself.

  “Branden Ironwright,” the smith replied.

  “King’s Guard,” Talas said from his saddle. The guard’s head snapped quickly to the priest-turned-solider and then back to Branden. The effect was immediate. The handful of guards at the palace gates suddenly stood at attention. Their feet snapped together, their eyes looked straight ahead and their chins rose high.

  Branden looked slowly to Talas and then back again, a look of irritation on his face. “Former King’s Guard,” the smith clarified.

  The distinction clearly held no meaning for the guards at the gate, either because they did not understand how the word former played into it or because they didn’t see a difference.

  “Sir?” the young blonde inquired, respect clear in his voice.

  “I am no longer a member of the King’s Guard,” Branden tried to explain.

  “Sir, I don’t understand, sir,” the guard said.

  Branden sighed and ran his hand over his face. “At ease,” the smith ordered. The guards settled into an easier position with their hands held behind them and their feet shoulder’s width apart. However, their eyes still stared straight ahead and their chins did not lower an inch. “If you would be so kind,” Branden asked, “to inform Chancellor Umbras that we would like an audience with His Majesty at his earliest possible convenience, I would appreciate it.”

  “Sir, that won’t be necessary, sir,” the guard replied. Immediately turning on his heel, he addressed the other guards at the gate. “Open the gates” he ordered. When they hesitated he repeated his command louder and with more irritation. “I said, open the gates! Now!”

  “That really won’t be necessary, Guard…” Now it was Branden’s turn to ask for the man’s name.

  “Zachary, sir!” the guard replied, turning to face the smith again and putting his fist to his chest in salute. “Unfortunately, I cannot leave my post to escort you. However, Guard Tisifone here will be more than happy to see that you are taken to the Chancellor directly, sir.”

  A young woman, her brown hair pulled back under her helm, stepped crisply forward and saluted Branden in the same manner as Zachary had. Meanwhile, the gates behind the guards began to open.

  Branden sighed again, but returned the salute of the two guards. The entire line of guards on the ground, and now the archers on the wall above, snapped to attention in reaction to the former King’s Guard’s gesture. Signaling for the rest of his party to dismount, Branden allowed himself to be led across the palace grounds to the main building itself. As he did so, he shot a weary look at Talas. The former priest, at least, had the courtesy to appear not to notice.

  Chapter 34

  After a quick heartfelt reunion with Old Man Umbras, Branden and the rest of his party were escorted to a side room to await their audience with the King. Richly adorned with colorful tapestries, comfortable chairs and sofas, the waiting room’s floor was covered in soft rugs that displayed various game animals from around the kingdom. Wine, fruits, breads, and cheeses were provided, as well as basins of water and towels, so that they could refresh themselves. Everyone availed themselves of the basins, while the Nhyme dove into the cheese.

  They only had to wait for an hour before the King could see them, for which Branden was grateful; the way Sasha, Katya, and Jared were looking at him out of the corners of their eyes was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Branden was offered a change of cl
othes, an outfit of soft velvets and silks in the King’s colors, but the smith refused. He was no longer a King’s Guard and did not feel comfortable wearing such finery anyways. He opted to remain in his worn leather pants and homespun linen shirt; they had served him well enough for the last twenty years. Niko and Chyla shuffled into the largest of Jared’s belt pouches with a healthy portion of cheese, which would mainly keep Niko’s mouth occupied while they had their audience with the King.

  The hall, where Branden, Mala, Talas, Jared, Sasha and Katya were received, was huge. Branden’s smithy could have easily fit into King Morgan’s throne room, with room enough left over to ride around in a Trades Guild wagon. A series of tall stained-glass windows ran the length of the hall on either side, between each of which hung tapestries depicting great battles in the history of Illyander. It was now night, so large braziers and torches had been lit in the large room. A small contingent of the King’s Guard stood to either side of the hall, near the throne as they entered, with white tabards bearing the King’s Crest of entwined blue and red dragons worn over glittering silver mail.

  As Branden neared the pair of thrones, the King’s Guard saluted in unison. Branden stopped, returned the salute, and continued forward down the long carpet that stretched the length of the throne room, right up to the feet of King Morgan and Queen Xavia. Stopping twenty paces from the base of the thrones, which sat atop a small stone dais consisting of seven marble steps, Branden kneeled and bowed his head. The others followed suit.