by Guy Antibes
The
Disinherited Prince
Disinherited Prince Series
Book One
By
Guy Antibes
Map of the Continent of Eastril
In the world of Phairoon
THE DISINHERITED PRINCE
Chapter One
~
THE OLD WARHORSE PLODDED ALONG THE FOREST FLOOR, its hooves making loud thuds as it plunged further through the thick trees. A man dressed in soiled but soft leather clothes guided the animal, with two boys, just reaching adolescence, clutching to him and each other. One of the boys shared the dark brown hair of the man, but the other boy, a bit younger and slighter, had light hair, nearly colorless.
A column of sunlight lit up a clearing, sending away the cool dankness of the forest. The man, skin brown and creased from a life spent outside, reined the huge horse to a stop.
“You two jump off. We have to be back at the castle tonight, or your father will have my head on a pike,” the man said to Pol, the light-haired, younger boy. He slapped the older boy’s leg. “Paki, you untie our things, and Poldon, you can find some firewood. I’ll want a fire going in half a turn.”
Pol looked up at the sun to determine the time. He stumbled on a fallen branch and picked it up, bringing it to the fire ring that had been used by many campers in King Colvin’s forest. He and his friend had shortened his name to Pol. Prince Poldon came at the tail end of King Colvin’s children, with a different mother and with a fragile constitution. Pakkingail was the son of Siggon Horstel, the King’s gardener, an ex-soldier, and everyone had shortened Pakkingail’s name to Paki.
Pol looked at Paki, who led the horse to a rock bench, which he climbed to untie their supplies. Pol and Paki had worn backpacks to carry their personal things. Paki looked over and grinned. It was a beautiful day in late spring, and both boys were anxious to get out and enjoy the weather.
Gathering dead branches at this time of year proved to be a quick and easy task. Before long, a fire was crackling.
Siggon looked long at Pol. “You’re not overtired, Pol?” Poldon insisted on no honorifics when they were alone in the woods.
“I feel fine,” Pol said. Not quite true, but the boy wasn’t fatigued, just tired. At least he wasn’t out of breath. Last year at this time he might have been. He had grown just a bit, and that seemed to have given him a little more strength and endurance. “I am hungry, though.”
“We’ll let this fire burn for a bit.” Siggon examined the fire ring and tossed a few of the bigger pieces of wood on the fire. “Let’s check around for evidence of game in the area.”
Pol liked the fact that Paki’s father would always turn a visit to his father’s hunting preserve into a classroom for woodcraft. He knew that his two older brothers had never bothered to learn anything about survival. Pol knew he picked things up better and faster than his siblings, but that didn’t gain him any respect, just more enmity.
“Something large recently came this way,” Pol said as they walked in the forest.
“Why do you know that?” Siggon said, kneeling down at the sign that Pol had noticed.
“The leaves have been turned over, and the darker leaves are still damp.”
Siggon nodded. “Is that right, Paki?” He looked at his son who had been whittling on a dry branch while they walked.
Paki scratched his head. “I think so.” His face turned red with embarrassment, since it was obvious to Pol that he hadn’t been paying attention. Paki used the pointed end of his work to disturb the leaf-covered ground. “If it was a smaller animal, there might not be any leaves turned over, certainly nothing as large as that.”
“Good recovery, lad,” Siggon smiled. Seemingly, Paki’s antics never failed to amuse his father. “Can you find the direction that the animal went?”
Pol gave it a try, but Siggon showed them how to read the pattern. “Of course, if this was bare dirt, you wouldn’t have as hard of a time, but you can’t always rely on an easy way to track something, except for clumsy humans. They are always easier to track. You don’t want a vicious animal circling back and attacking you.”
The words struck a chord within Pol. Siggon looked at him and nodded. His statement held more meaning, and Pol knew it had to do with tracking non-clumsy humans, as he had immediately thought of them. Pol nodded his head once to Siggon to let him know that the message had been received. Pol had to be wary of the humans with whom he interacted. Paki was back to slicing the bark and nubs off of his stick.
Back at their day camp, the coals looked perfect, so Siggon removed a long, thin package from their bag. He unwrapped a damp cloth and waxed paper, revealing chunks of marinated meat speared on thin metal rods. “Our meat course,” Siggon said. “We can start with some bread and cheese. One of my wife’s helpers put together a savory spread.” He laid out a small ceramic pot and a knife.
Pol sliced the bread, and Paki used the back of a spoon to smooth out the spread. Both of them laughed at each other as they took big bites of the bread.
“Do you want some?” Pol asked Siggon who shook his head.
“I’m not one for that kind of thing. You boys enjoy,” Siggon said as he turned the meat.
It had begun to sizzle, and the sound and smell of the meat made Pol wolf down the bread. He didn’t like the spread very much, anyway. He just watched the meat cook as the light breeze pushed the aroma of cooking meat his way.
Paki groaned and clutched his middle. In a moment, Pol’s stomach began to churn.
“Something’s spoiled!” Siggon said. “Quickly! Put your finger down your throats and throw it up.”
Pol didn’t want to vomit, but his stomach began to spasm, and he could feel his heart begin to beat in his ears. Paki had successfully brought the bread and spread up, and that made it easier for Pol to duplicate the action.
“Water, Paki,” Siggon said. “You, too, Pol.”
Both of them drank water and Siggon made them bring that up too. He eyed the pot of savory spread and wrapped it up in the damp cloth that once held the meat skewers. “Do you feel any better?”
Paki nodded, but still looked pale. Pol shook his head. “I’ve got a headache now.” He lay down on the soft floor of the clearing and used his backpack as a pillow.
Siggon took a piece of meat off one of the skewers. “Mmmm. You two don’t know what you are missing.”
Pol rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to taste it twice,” he said, smiling weakly.
Kneeling at Pol’s side, Siggon said, “Good lad. We’ll let both of you rest up for a bit.”
The young prince didn’t like the look on Siggon’s face, but he didn’t like feeling so awful either.
~
Amonna Fairfield, youngest daughter of King Colvin, the monarch of North Salvan, stood still at the side of a door leading into her sister’s rooms in the castle. She leaned towards the door to hear her sister, Honna, talking to her middle brother Grostin.
She heard Grostin laugh. “Serves the little twit right.”
“Aren’t you being a little harsh?” Honna said. Amonna didn’t hear any compassion in her sister’s voice.
“Pol needs all the harshness we can give him. I hope he dies,” Grostin’s voice chilled Amonna. Such a casual disregard for his half-brother. Why would Pol be dying? She still wanted to know.
“Poisoning is sometimes an inexact art,” Honna said. “You want him to suffer, but not to die, right? That way he’ll remember your act of kindness for years.”
“Years!” Grostin barked out a single laugh. “Pol doesn’t add to our family. He only detracts, doesn’t he?”
There was a pause in the conversation, so Honna must have nodded or something.
&nbs
p; “Well, you’ve certainly covered your tracks nicely using the kitchen assistant,” Honna said.
Grostin chuckled. “Isn’t it, though? Once I caught him with the ostler’s wife, he was mine to command. I felt just like father, ordering my minion to put something less than nourishing in their food bag. I can picture them all writhing in pain in the forest…”
That was all that Amonna needed to hear. She quietly withdrew from the door and raced to Kelso Beastwell’s office in the North Building, where he oversaw the King’s Guards.
“What is all this fuss?” Kelso said, as Amonna ran into his office.
She felt her lungs were about to burst. She never remembered running so fast for so long. “Pol has been poisoned. He’s with Siggon Horstel and his son in the King’s Forest.”
Kelso shot to his feet. “How did you find this out?”
Amonna kept her mouth shut, her eyes pleading with Kelso.
“Never mind. I’ll send out men to find them. There is a clearing that they generally frequent. You will excuse me,” he said, leaving Amonna, her chest heaving, leaning with both hands on the Chief Guard’s desk.
~
Pol’s eyes began to droop. He realized that all the poison in his system hadn’t been purged. He looked up at Siggon’s concerned face. “Am I going to die?” Pol said.
Siggon shook his head. “Not yet.” He looked back at his son, eyes closed and looking pale. “I can’t get both of you to the castle. I didn’t bring the tools to make a travois, but we will have to make do.”
Pol could see the war waging in Siggon’s mind play out on his face. He struggled to raise his arm and touched Siggon. “Take Paki.”
Siggon shook his head, but then he turned it towards the forest. “Riders!” He rose to his feet to greet the newcomers. Pol twisted his head to see five men dressed in the livery of the Castle Guard entering the clearing.
“I’ve got two sick boys,” Siggon said.
“Poisoned, we hear. Why are you unaffected?” one of the men said.
“One of the cook’s helpers offered a pot of savory spread. I don’t like the stuff, but it’s either that or the loaf of bread. I saved the pot, so we’ll have the Court Magician take a look.” Siggon wiped his brow. “I’m glad you’re here. I hadn’t yet figured out a way to get the boys out of the forest by myself. I’ll take the prince if one of you will grab my son.”
Once they were all mounted, they headed back to the castle. Pol sat in front of Siggon on the big warhorse. He looked ahead of him and realized that he couldn’t focus properly. If he shut his eyes, his body hurt more. The forest opened up and the road straightened out.
Pol blinked in the direct sunlight, and that made his head pound in pain. He closed his eyes, but that only made things worse, so he returned to his squint. Even that seemed to take too much effort. The fact that the farmlands were mostly plowed, broke through the haze affecting Pol’s mind. Gradually Borstall’s outer edges passed Pol’s view. He found that the range of his vision began to contract, since the pain in his head and in his body continued.
He felt as much as heard the clatter of hooves on the cobbled streets as they finally reached the castle. Arms pulled him off of Siggon’s horse and the knowledge that he had made it home filled him with such relief that he lost consciousness.
~
The voice of Pol’s father broke through. He lifted his eyes, seeing a blur in front of him. He blinked the vision clear and looked up into eyes of his father, the King of North Salvan. His father looked to the right, and Pol followed his eyes to find Malden Gastonia, the Court Magician, standing on the side of his bed.
“You really think it was poison?”
Malden lifted the savory spread pot. “That’s what it is. This particular poison is rarely fatal, but with two young boys slathering huge amounts of it on their bread, they each ate a healthy dose. With Pol’s constitution, I’m rather glad he pulled through. If Siggon hadn’t made the boys puke most of it up, we might be burying one or both.”
“He is out of danger, then, eh?” King Colvin nodded. “Good, then. I have things to do.” He patted Pol’s foot. “Glad to have you back, boy.” The king turned and left the room.
Pol tried to sit up, but his efforts were futile. He’d often experienced severe weakness before, but somehow this was the worst he’d ever felt. “What day is it?”
“You ate your poison yesterday. It’s just past midday, and you woke up to the one and only appearance of your father. Your mother spent the night, but you seemed to improve overnight, so I sent her to bed.”
“But why are you here? You’re not a healer,” Pol said to the Court Magician. Pol knew the magician well enough to think of him as Malden, but he never had much to do with the man. All magicians seemed mysterious to him, since they were traffickers in secret knowledge and had special abilities.
“I don’t usually interfere with the healers, but your mother asked, since she knows I have some talent using my power to help people. Siggon came last night to take Paki home. He can finish his recovery there.”
“Who did this?”
“I know, but I won’t tell you. Take care of yourself. I’m afraid this may be an escalation of your troubles here at the castle. This goes beyond a mere prank.”
The ‘prank’ description told Pol all he needed to know. He stared at Malden. This was the first time the magician had ever admitted to knowing the chronic troubles Pol had with three of his four siblings. “Tell me.”
Malden shook his head. “Let us say, you know the perpetrator, and there is nothing that can be done.”
“Grostin or Landon, then. Landon would probably have sent assassins with arrows or swords, but Grostin…” Pol looked up at the magician. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Malden shrugged. That was good enough for a yes for Pol. He sat back and closed his eyes. Grostin, Landon, Honna. Any of the three would be capable of such a thing. He didn’t think they would go so far, and that disappointed him. It seemed that they had finally decided to raise their antagonism to a higher level.
Pol felt isolated and alone, but not for the first time.
“How is your patient, Magician?” Amonna said, tiptoeing into the room. She saw Pol’s face and smiled. It looked genuine to Pol. “Oh, you’re awake. That’s a good thing. I was very worried about you.”
Malden sighed. “He could have died. Luckily, Siggon made the boys throw up their dinner. It saved Pol’s life.” The magician looked intently at Pol. “His physical condition could stand some improving, but we don’t have an appropriate healer in Borstall.”
“What’s an appropriate healer?” Amonna asked. She flipped her long, dark hair back and pushed it behind her ears. Honna, her older sister, had already taken to wearing her hair up like the older women in court.
“There are a few good Healing monasteries that have combined magic with healing to achieve remarkable results.” Malden patted Pol’s arm, making Pol feel like some kind of pet. “You should spend some time in one, I think.” Malden said.
Pol thought that Malden had more to add, but the magician looked at Amonna as if there was more to be said, but not in her presence.
“Thank you for coming to visit,” Pol said, changing the subject away from magical healing. “I heard you called on Kelso Beastwell to find us.”
Pol noticed a faint smile on Malden’s face. She must have found out that Grostin had done something. Pol still didn’t think that Landon would do anything so sneaky.
“A rumor in the kitchen. I, uh, went there after dinner for a snack and overhead the cook’s helper admit to a prank.” She turned red while she said it.
Pol had long known that she did not lie well. “Grostin was behind it, wasn’t he?”
Malden gave Pol a dirty look, while Amonna looked trapped.
“He was, wasn’t he?”
“I can’t say…” Amonna looked out the window and then turned around. “I can’t say who did it. Can you, Malden?”
The
magician shook his head. “No one told me Grostin had anything to do with it, as far as I know.”
Pol looked at Malden. The magician’s face was devoid of emotion, but that didn’t fool him. Pol decided he’d have to give up and not say any more. Amonna was his only friend among the other siblings, and she had just proven that she couldn’t be as open as she had been in the past, but she had come to visit. She didn’t have to do that.
“No matter who did it, I’m glad you are here. I just woke up when Father visited. I do feel better. My whole body ached before I finally went under, riding on Siggon’s horse through town.”
“Poor dear,” Amonna said. She moved to the bed and put her hand on Pol’s forehead. “Still a little warm?” She looked over at Malden who nodded. “I suppose I’ll leave you to your recuperation. You do know what that word means?”
Pol rolled his eyes. He suspected that he had a better vocabulary than any of his brothers and sisters. Mistress Farthia Wissingbel had said so, and he believed her more than he did Amonna at the moment. He watched her go. She turned and gave him a little wave before disappearing into the corridor of the infirmary.
Malden clicked his tongue. “That wasn’t very nice of you, putting Princess Amonna on the spot like that. You may be right, but it is impolitic for you to say it to her.” Malden smiled craftily. “You do know what impolitic means?”
Pol shook his head. “I learned the word last year. I learned a lot of words last year. I suppose I’m learning more than words this year.”
“Indeed you are, young prince. Learn all you can about North Salvan and the Empire this year.” Malden raised his hands when Pol made an ugly face. “I’d spend less time around your friend Paki and more time with Farthia Wissingbel. Just my opinion.”
Pol pouted, just a bit, and said, “You can keep your opinions to yourself.”
“I usually do,” Malden said, smiling.
~~~
Chapter Two
~
“MOTHER,” POL SAID, STANDING as Queen Molissa, his mother, walked into his rooms.