by J. K. Barber
Branden raised his head, his eyes pausing momentarily on Talas’ forest green tabard, to look the priest in the eye. There was a steel in the larger man’s gaze that was stronger than any weapon he had ever forged. “It is my charge to protect His Majesty, his kingdom and, by extension, his subjects as well, including my daughters.” The hulking man looked down at his hands, seemingly undisturbed by their bruised and bloodied state. “If I have to get my hands dirty to perform my duty, I would not be the first.” He looked again into the priest’s eyes, his resolve clear and concrete.
Talas knew the history and legends of the King’s Guard, sworn to protect the King of Illyander, in life and in death, willing to pay any price to keep the monarch safe. Tales of the bravery and sacrifice of members of the King’s Guard were often told to inspire young soldiers in the King’s Army. Talas had heard more than a handful in his years as a sellsword. Few, however, mentioned the lengths that the brave men sometimes had to go to fulfill their duty and the toll those lengths had on the men wearing the tabard. “Just be careful the stain on your hands does not spread further, my friend.” The priest nodded his head to indicate the spatters of brown and crimson that discolored Branden’s usually pristine white tabard.
The former smith followed Talas’ eyes and saw the blood that had blemished his tabard. However, when he looked back up, the mettle in his eyes was unchanged. Both men nodded, each acknowledging the other’s words both uttered and unsaid.
Ra’thet appeared to sense the unspoken communication that passed between King’s Guard and priest. He laughed again, though the undercurrent of nervousness was unmistakable. “Torturing me further won’t get you information I don’t have. I’ve told you all I know. The Em… Salamasca abandoned me. I owe her no loyalty.” There was an almost pleading tone to Ra’thet’s voice. The man was on the verge of breaking.
As Talas left the room, closing the door behind him he heard Branden’s voice, colored with a chilling hue of mirth. “That may be the case, but you can’t blame us for being thorough.”
Chapter 1
Branden tossed his mail onto the chair, the shining silver links shifting and sliding while it settled in to place on the padded seat and dark wood. After a few moments the chain stilled. His armor rested beside his large two-handed hammer and his longsword, a mostly ceremonial weapon but one the smith knew how to use well. The hammer still had the same steel head as his old weapon, the one that Ra’thet had destroyed during the retaking of Snowhaven, but the haft of the maul was new. Branden had sunk a thin rod of metal into the head of the hammer and then attached a hollowed out haft of wood over the rod to reinforce it. It made the weapon a bit heavier, but the extra steel made it nearly unbreakable. Branden had laid the weapons and armor casually aside, allowing the implements of steel and wood to fall where they may. Only his white tabard, adorned with the entwined blue and red dragons of King Morgan’s crest, had been put away with care. The King’s Guard had carefully removed and folded the pristine white cloth, placing it reverently atop the dresser in his newly appointed rooms. He sat down heavily on his large bed, working the knots out of his shoulders as best he could. Although the mail he had just removed was expertly crafted and mostly for appearance, the armor still had a decent weight to it and the former smith was not a young man.
Normally, Branden would have stayed in the royal barracks with the other King’s Guard, close to the throne room and King Morgan’s personal chambers in the Palace. However, the former smith had been moved to a suite of rooms reserved for members of the Palace Guard with family. Often men and women in the Palace Guard would have their families housed with them, either for convenience or for financial reasons. The pay that a guardsman received for protecting the Palace was not much, but it would allow a person to live comfortably if they were unmarried. However, the added expenses of a family often made it hard for a guard to make ends meet. The rooms were provided to ease the financial burden and to allow a guardsman to spend more time with his or her family while they served the kingdom. Branden also suspected that the free boarding of a guard’s loved ones made him less of a target for opportunistic bribes, but he had never voiced his suspicions aloud.
Chancellor Umbras, who, among his other duties, oversaw the lodging of the Palace Guard, was ancient and mostly blind, but the “Old Man’s” mind was as sharp as ever. He treated each and every member of the guard like his own son or daughter. While the Chancellor was in office, his children would want for nothing.
Branden’s thoughts returned to his own children. Sasha and Katya had grown so much over the last few years. They had become strong and independent women, like their mother before them. “Iron wrapped in velvet,” he had often said of his wife. The girls had an inner strength like tempered steel, Sasha in her skill and determination with a sword and Katya with the sheer willpower needed to wield the primal elements of magic. Yet, despite their strength, he still saw such gentleness in them that he wanted to scoop his girls up in his arms and hold them close to his chest, protecting them from all the hurt in the world.
From the other room, Branden heard the soft cry of his grandson as he was tended by the wet nurse. The King’s Guard instinctively started to rise, his paternal instincts awakened by the sound of Gabriel’s tiny whimper, but the woman caring for the infant quickly quieted him down. Branden settled back down onto his bed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He began tugging at the laces of his gambeson.
The wet nurse was very good at her duties, taking care of Gabriel’s every want to the point where Branden needed to do nothing. Still, he loved holding his grandson in his arms, rocking the infant back and forth. It reminded him of holding his own girls so many years ago.
And now my child has a child of her own, Branden thought to himself. There were times when this fact was so foreign to his way of thinking that Branden’s mind almost rejected it out of hand. The truth remained, though, that he was a grandfather. The smith sighed again, feeling every one of his fifty plus years. He remembered courting Dara, and the disapproving looks he had gotten from her father. Branden had not been a native of Snowhaven, and as such, had been treated with a fairly generous helping of distrust. In addition, Branden was a member of the King’s Guard from Aeirsga, and Dara’s father could not fathom why he was willing to give that up to wed a scribe from a small town. After a time, Dara’s father had given his consent, though. The older man had seen the determination and patience with which Branden treated the situation and determined him worthy of his daughter’s hand. Branden suspected that Dara’s mother had helped wear her father down as well. She had always liked the smith, seeing the loving way that Branden and Dara looked at one another.
Branden’s mind turned to the way Sasha and Jared had broached their relationship to him after they had returned from the Frozen March. Branden still felt a little bad for punching the young man in the face, but not so much that he had ever apologized for it. He still felt that it was his prerogative as a father to judge potential suitors for his daughters, a right that he felt had been taken away from him by his daughter’s pregnancy. He and Dara had raised their daughters to be strong, independent, and, he hoped, good judges of character, though. At this point Branden had to accept Sasha’s decision to stay with Jared, but that didn’t mean the King’s Guard had to be happy with it.
As if summoned by Branden’s thoughts, Jared walked into the room, pulling up short as he saw Branden sitting there. A quick succession of expressions travelled across the hunter’s face. At first Jared looked shocked, then mildly frightened and finally determined. The hunter had studiously avoided being alone with Branden, always preferring Sasha to be around to temper the smith’s ire.
“Oh,” Jared said finally. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“And why would I not be here?” Branden asked, with a little more edge to his voice than he had intended. “These are my rooms, after all.” He stood, enjoying the effect that his height had on Jared.
“Well, of course,
” the hunter replied, his voice breaking a bit. “I didn’t mean… that is… these are your rooms.” Jared coughed, regaining his composure. “I should have knocked. I just didn’t think you’d be back from your duties so early.”
“I serve at the pleasure of His Majesty,” Branden said. “He relieved me early so that I could spend some time with my family.”
“That was nice of him,” Jared replied. “Speaking of which,” he looked around Branden into the room beyond where the wet nurse tended to his son. “I came by to see Gabriel. I was hoping to see him before Talas and I gave our report to General Frey.”
Hearing Jared’s voice, the wet nurse, a mousy looking woman, had come out of the back room and handed her charge to the hunter. Jared’s face lit up as he bounced Gabriel up and down, eliciting a squeal of happiness from the baby. His son’s laugh made the hunter’s face split into a huge grin. Branden couldn’t help but be reminded of when he had done the same with his own girls. He wondered if his smile had been as big as Jared’s.
The hunter had been gone for a little over a week to Valshet and was obviously overjoyed to see his son again. Jared and Talas had gone to the port town to look for word regarding the Ice Queen. The theory, based on the images that Sirus and the other dragons had seen before Salamasca had been too far away for their connection to be sustained, was that she had escaped to the Eastern Kingdoms. The hope was that sailors and traders from across the Sea of Twylight might have heard something useful that information would lead them to the Ice Queen.
“So?” Branden asked. Despite his earlier feelings regarding Jared and his daughter, the King’s Guard was reluctant to interrupt the hunter’s reunion with his son.
Jared stopped swinging Gabriel around and looked at Branden quizzically.
“How did things go in Valshet?” he asked.
“Oh,” Jared replied, having trouble tearing his attention away from Gabriel. “Well, actually. Talas and I…,” Branden cut the hunter off with a wave of his hand.
“Ma’am,” the King’s Guard said, addressing the wet nurse. “If you could excuse us.” Although the words were said politely, it was clearly not a question.
“Of course, m’lord,” the woman replied meekly and reached for Gabriel. Jared pulled his son closer, and Branden saw the hunter’s upper lip curl back in a quiet snarl. The wet nurse took an involuntary step backwards.
“That won’t be necessary,” Branden said, reassuringly. “I think that Jared would like to hold his son a bit longer. It has been some time since he has seen him.” The former smith looked pointedly at Jared.
“Yes,” the hunter said hesitantly, realizing how he must have looked to the wet nurse. “I can take him from here.” Jared bounced Gabriel a little, relaxing his hold on the baby.
“As you wish, m’lord,” she said to the hunter, curtseying slightly and then hurrying out of the room. Branden noticed that Jared’s eyes never left the woman until she was fully gone.
“You were saying?” Branden asked, bringing the conversation back to the hunter’s mission in Valshet.
“Yes,” Jared replied. “The Easterners that I talked to were fairly certain that the Ice Queen is in the Eastern Kingdoms. A woman riding the back of a dragon is pretty unmistakable,” Jared quipped, smiling. When Branden did not laugh, the hunter continued in a more serious tone of voice. “Talas’ contacts spoke of the same. Salamasca is in the Eastern Kingdoms.”
“That information coincides with what we were able to get from Ra’thet a couple weeks back,” the King’s Guard said, unconsciously rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. “According to him, Salamasca has an old mentor somewhere in the Aishe Desert. She has more than likely fled to him for help and shelter while she gathers her strength again.”
“That would make sense, given the information that Talas and I got,” Jared replied. He clearly did not know what Ra’thet had said until just now. The interrogation of the Ice Queen’s former warlord was known only to a few select people in Aeirsga. It made sense that Talas had not said a word about it to the hunter during their mission in Valshet. Now, however, it was information that Jared and the others would need, so the King’s Guard felt no compunction against sharing the knowledge with the hunter.
“That settles it then,” Branden said, sorrow suddenly stealing into his heart. “You’re going to journey to the East and confront her.”
“That certainly seems to be the case,” Jared said, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright, Branden? You look a little pale all of the sudden.”
“I’m fine,” the King’s Guard replied, putting as much conviction behind his words as he could muster. The confirmation of the Ice Queen’s location meant that his daughters would soon leave, never to return. Branden had known this was coming for a long time, but the immediacy of it hit the large man like a physical blow. Branden took a couple steps backwards and sat heavily on his bed.
“Are you sure?” Jared asked, genuine concern in his voice. “I can call for a physician or Katya if you’re not feeling well.
Branden waived the hunter off. “That won’t be necessary. I knew… we all knew that this would happen.”
The King’s Guard saw understanding break across Jared’s face like the sun coming through the clouds. “Oh…,” he stammered at first. “I know how you feel. Not exactly, of course. It’s one thing to know that someday they won’t come back, but it’s another thing altogether for that day to suddenly be so close.” Branden saw true sorrow in the hunter’s eyes, and Jared held his son a little tighter. The infant snuffled a bit and then began pulling at his father’s hair, as though sensing that something was wrong.
“You don’t,” Branden finally said.
“What?” Jared asked, confused.
“You don’t know how I feel,” Branden said, standing again. The hunter took a step back, to give the larger man room to stand. “It’s not right,” he said, anger and sadness in his tone. “It’s not natural. A parent shouldn’t bury his children. I don’t care that they’re going to save the kingdom or even all of Aronshae. It’s not right.”
Jared reached out hesitantly, but pulled his hand back before he touched Branden’s shoulder. The hunter tried to stammer out words of comfort but apparently decided better of it. There was little he could say to make the King’s Guard feel better, and they both knew it.
“Perhaps I should leave,” Jared said meekly. “Where is Sasha?” the hunter asked, awkwardly. “I’d like to see her as well, and I can take Gabriel with me, if you’d like to have some time to yourself.” Jared’s discomfort was visible on his face. He didn’t know how to handle the situation and was probably going to look for Sasha and Katya for help. Branden was reminded of Jared’s upbringing. The hunter’s parents had died while he was still young, and he had been raised by his mentor Sirus in isolation. He had been taught to be weary of others, lest they find out about his gifts. For a moment, Branden felt pity for the young man.
“She’s probably with Katya. They’ve been studying with the new Magus in hopes of learning how to use better Akor’shi-kai’s power.”
“New Magus?” Jared asked, clearly relieved to change the topic of conversation.
“Yes, Lucian moved to Snowhaven to take over the Sorcerer’s School. A man named Collier from Orsa has been appointed the King’s Magus in his stead. Branden noticed a smile cross Jared’s face.
“And how is that going?” the hunter asked. “Working with the new Magus, I mean?” Jared’s smile got even wider when he had said “new Magus.”
“Katya loves it, of course,” Branden replied. “Sasha seems mostly bored with it. It’s a great deal of sorcerous theory and research from what I understand of it.” In truth, the King’s Guard understood very little of what his dark-haired daughter spoke of when she talked about their sessions with Magus Collier. He did understand Sasha’s boredom and impatience with the subject matter though. The redhead was his daughter after all.
“I can see how Sasha would tire of tha
t quickly,” Jared chuckled, his mood improving, even though Branden’s had not. “She’s more of a hands-on kind of woman.” The hunter coughed uncomfortably, apparently realizing the implications of what he had just said about Sasha in front of her father. “I mean… she’s more grounded in the physical world. You know… what she can hold in her hand.” Jared’s backpedalling was going rapidly downhill, and he knew it. Branden wasn’t inclined to throw him a lifeline out of the verbal morass in which he was miring himself either. Branden’s scowl deepened.
“So, Lucian got sent to Snowhaven, huh?” Jared desperately changed the subject. “He has to be unhappy about that.”
“How so?” Branden asked. “Being asked to head up Snowhaven’s Sorcerer’s School is a prestigious honor.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jared said, his earlier smile returning. “But, Lucian’s always struck me as… well, a bit delicate. I’m not sure he’s suited for the weather or the position. He doesn’t seem to be the most patient man. Besides, while he was here in Aeirsga, he had the ear of the King. In Snowhaven, he’s as far from the throne as he can be, quite literally.”
Branden could see Jared’s point. Lucian and the hunter had never gotten along and, truth be told, Branden wasn’t particularly fond of the man either. Still, Lucian was a very competent sorcerer and had served King Morgan well during Branden’s absence while he was in Snowhaven from what he had heard. “I am sure that Lucian will do well in the role of Administrator,” Branden said, “once he acclimates himself to the weather and the position.”
Jared looked like he was about to reply when a new voice came from the doorway.
“I hope that I am not interrupting anything,” said a rich baritone voice.
Branden recognized the speaker at once and dropped quickly to one knee. “Your Majesty,” the King’s Guard intoned, lowering his gaze to the floor.