The Disinherited Prince

by Guy Antibes

  Memories of his mother began to flow through his mind. He clutched again the amulet that he wore under his shirt and wondered about his father Cissert. Since that was a last name in the brief passage that he had read, Pol decided that when he left the castle, he would cast off King Colvin’s surname of Fairfield, and he would go by the name of Pol Cissert.

  It seemed like the right thing to do. He wondered if monasteries charged a fee, a tuition, he thought it was called. Would King Colvin pay? He would have to ask Val. He shook his head at the random thought. Malden would have already taken that into account.

  Pol jumped up at a knock on his door.

  “It’s me, Val.”

  Pol unlocked the door, and Malden walked in followed by Val, who left the door half open.

  “Your mother will be burned in little more than an hour. You should get dressed. There will be few in attendance,” Malden said. “The king has accepted your petition and wants you out of the castle within a week’s time. I suggest you leave first thing tomorrow with Val. He will take you to the Tesna Monastery.”

  Pol looked at both men’s faces and began to shake in fear. The time to leave had really come. “What about my tuition?” Pol’s battered mind sought out something else to worry about.

  “What?” Malden looked at Pol blankly.

  “I’m not a prince anymore. How will I pay for anything?”

  Val barked out a laugh. “You’ve got your Lion. That will get you to Tesna.” Val looked at Malden and nodded. “But monasteries don’t accept fees if you can pass magic tests. You are certain to be accepted, so there won’t be anything expected in return.”

  Pol looked out through the half-closed door and saw a few frightened faces that quickly disappeared. The anxiety level decreased a bit. The entire night had upset and distracted Pol from rational thought. His mother’s face flittered through his mind, and he put his hands to his face, trying to keep from crying all over again.

  “We should spend the next hour packing. Tomorrow, you’ll not be returning to this room, ever,” Val said gently, and left again.

  Pol didn’t want to stay, and he grabbed onto Val’s command to pack as a much-needed diversion from his grief. He began to gather his things, but realized he wouldn’t need court clothes or any other of his princely trappings. He had nothing in the way of jewels and chains, unlike his brothers, so by the time he was ready to go, he had a bag with his throwing knives, and a few changes of clothes.

  Even so, he found a few things of value to take, but the memories of his mother and the better times of his life in Borstall would remain in his mind forever. Val knocked on his door again and stood carrying a bag no larger than Pol’s.

  “A change of plans, we will leave tonight.”

  “What about all of your weapons in the armory?” Pol said. He didn’t even know why he brought that up.

  “I’ll let Kelso know where to send the rest of my things. We will be leaving our bags with Darrol, who will get the horses ready during your mother’s last rites,” Val said.

  “Last rites? She wasn’t religious.” The numbness returned.

  Val just shook his head and put his hand on Pol’s shoulder. “It’s time to go, lad.”

  No ‘My Prince’. He would likely not hear that honorific again.

  ~

  The pyre had been set up in the stable yard. Pol thought that was a final show of disrespect for his mother. He felt anger begin to build within him at the way his stepfather treated his mother at the last. Stepfather. Pol had known bad things would arise from the Emperor’s action, but he never thought his life would be crumbling so quickly, so completely.

  Someone had already arranged his mother’s body on a plank amidst a pile of branches. The area around her head and shoulders was covered with flowers. She would like that, Pol thought.

  Darrol stood with Malden and Mistress Farthia. Two of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting wailed while Kelso held a branch out to Malden, who lit it with magic. Kelso handed the burning branch to Pol.

  He didn’t want to take it, but all of them encouraged Pol. He walked to the pyre and set it aflame. Pol felt tears stream down his face as he stepped back and sobbed as the fire caught and consumed his mother. Farthia took Pol by the shoulders and led him back from the flames.

  Malden walked up to Val and gave him a small bag, and then he approached Pol.

  “Here is a book on magic. You’ll need it at Tesna.” Malden said loudly. Pol didn’t think that the pyre was that loud, but then he didn’t care about much of anything right then. Malden took Farthia’s hand. “You can always rely on us. Ranno will know where we end up. I can’t stay in your father’s service any longer. Not after this. Since you’re leaving, my biggest reason for staying,” he looked at Farthia, “will be asked to find a position elsewhere. We might end up in Yastan. Who knows?”

  “As you said, Ranno will,” Val said.

  “It’s time to end this,” Malden said, taking a deep shuddering breath.

  They all watched silently as Malden walked up to the pyre and raised his hands. Molissa’s body flared in a green flame and disappeared. Nothing remained of the Queen’s remains.

  “What did you do?” Pol said.

  “There are no ashes for the King or his children to desecrate. I wouldn’t put it past their vindictive souls,” Malden said.

  The magician’s emotions were raw for the first time that Pol had ever noticed. Kelso stayed by the pyre, but Malden, Farthia, Val and Darrol walked with Pol to the stables.

  “It’s time to fly,” Val said. “Here is your bag.”

  Pol took it. The book had added noticeable weight. “Can we just take the horses?” Pol didn’t care about his random thoughts at this time.

  Malden nodded. “Consider it a final consideration for a disinherited prince to leave North Salvan. You must leave quickly.”

  Val mounted while Darrol helped Pol on top of a large horse. It reminded Pol of the big warhorse that Siggon had taken out when he was poisoned. That seemed like years ago, in a long-past part of Pol’s life.

  “This isn’t my horse,” Pol said.

  “You’ll take what you’re given,” Malden said as he helped Pol mount the tall horse.

  “It’s too big for me,” Pol said as he grabbed the pommel of the saddle. Someone had already adjusted the stirrups. All Pol could think about was what was happening in the next few moments as he held back a torrent of worse thoughts.

  “He won’t always be,’ Val said as he secured Pol’s bags.

  Darrol joined them. “It’s time to go,” he said.

  Val nodded, and the three of them trotted out of the stable yard. Pol waved to Malden and Farthia as they held onto each other.

  The streets were nearly empty in the dark of early morning as they trotted along the city’s streets. Pol looked around, knowing he wouldn’t be returning to Borstall, his home for nearly fifteen years.

  He wondered where Paki was. Probably sleeping through all of the night’s events. Pol would miss his friend. It wouldn’t work for Paki to go with him to Tesna, at least not now with the haste of their departure. Pol couldn’t help but sigh. He wondered how many times he would do so on his way south.

  They passed through Bangate, heading south and west. Pol looked back at the darkness of the town. Even the castle had few lights showing. He wondered if any of his siblings had bothered to note his mother’s death.

  Pol found his mind clearing as they picked up their pace. Amonna. It dawned on him that his mother hadn’t said her name as last words of endearment, but she identified the person who delivered the poisoned meal or whatever it was that killed her.

  “I know who killed my mother,” Pol said to Val.

  “You do,” Val said. “Your youngest sister, Amonna.” Val had been ahead of him and turned in the saddle. “The ladies-in-waiting all admitted that Amonna brought a late night drink. Everyone knew. It was an open assassination, pure and simple. The King didn’t even bother to stop his daughter,
and Amonna’s act will likely be celebrated in Castle Borstall this morning.”

  Pol’s heart sank. What betrayal! He couldn’t believe how vile everyone in the castle had been with the exception of those few loyal to him. The only person, who had shown him any courtesy at all as he grew up murdered his mother. How could a person change so much in the course of a few months? The horror of her act brought tears to Pol’s eyes yet again.

  A dark shape rode up to them from the woods that they had just entered.

  Pol pulled out a throwing knife, although he wouldn’t be very accurate in his current state.

  “Sorry about your mom, Pol,” Paki said as he guided his horse next to Pol’s. “I would have been there the stable yard, but Val wanted to make sure no one had set up an ambush.

  Pol noticed that Paki led a horse laden with supplies.

  “You anticipated this?” Pol said to Val.

  Val nodded. “I’ve been prepared to leave ever since we returned from our little trip. Follow me closely, all of you, it’s dark.”

  They left the road and traveled through the woods throughout the rest of the early morning. They emerged from the forest, far from any road, just before dawn. Val led them on a track up to the top of a hill high enough to see Borstall in the distance.

  “We’ll eat a cold breakfast and rest the horses,” Val said.

  Pol needed help getting off from his new mount. “Do you know this horse?” Pol said to Paki.

  “I do,” Paki said with a grin. “Landon bought him for a lot of money in South Salvan. It’s rare horse breed that the Shinkyans won’t let leave their land. I don’t know how he was able to get one, but rest assured, your brother will be furious when he finds out.”

  Taking the horse would only make life worse for him in the monastery in South Salvan. He could always send him back after they reached Tesna. He didn’t think anymore about it, sitting down with the others while Darrol passed out bread and cheese. Darrol gave a skin of fruit juice to Pol, while the others drank ale, although Paki complained that his was too watered down.

  “There they go,” Val said.

  Pol looked towards Borstall. Far away he could see a cloud of dust in the far distance across the farmlands below, as a cluster of riders he couldn’t really see sped along the Southern Road.

  A feeling of confusion hit Pol. “That’s where we should be,” Pol said. He got to his feet and looked around. “Why aren’t we heading south to Tesna?”

  Val chuckled. “Because we aren’t going to Tesna. You, my lad, are Deftnis-bound. Always were. A few times last night, Malden made it plain to any that wanted to hear, that you were headed to Tesna. Think of it as a non-magical tweaking of the pattern. Those riders will be disappointed that they never catch up to us. The monks there are in King Astor’s pocket. You wouldn’t last a week in that nest of snakes.” Val pointed to the riders. “But I don’t think you were intended to make it out of North Salvan alive.”

  “Deftnis. So Paki can stay there with us?”

  “With you and Darrol. I’ll be on my way once you’re delivered. We came this way just because I wanted to see the pursuit,” Val said, shaking his head, still chuckling. “Mount up. We won’t be traveling on many roads and certainly won’t be staying at any inns on our way out of this cursed kingdom.”

  “How do you feel, Prince Poldon?” Darrol said.

  Pol felt a shock of ice flow through him. “I’m a Disinherited Prince, remember? From now on I want you to call me by my new name, Pol Cissert.” He clutched the amulet beneath his shirt and vowed that some day he would make all the Fairfields pay for what they had done to his mother and to him.

  ~~~~

  An excerpt from Book Two of the Disinherited Prince series follows. If you liked this first volume, please leave a review at the place where you purchased it. If you’d like to know about future books in this series, check out the Guy Antibes website, http://www.guyantibes.com

  Excerpt From Book Two of

  The Disinherited Prince Series

  The Monk’s Habit

  Chapter One

  ~

  A cool wind whipped the cloaks of the four riders looking out over the estuary towards the large island that held their final destination, Deftnis Monastery.

  “There it is,” Valiso Gasibli said. His dark curly hair flitted this way and that in the wind. “It’s a bit of a boat trip, but I’m sure you are all up to it.” He turned his mount and kicked the sides of the horse to urge it on back towards the coastal track that led down to the fishing village, which served as the mainland port for those heading to Deftnis.

  Pol Cissert, a refugee from Borstall Castle where his mother had been the Queen and he a prince, looked at the whitecaps on the angry sea and blinked his eyes. For all his time as a prince of North Salvan, the nearly fifteen-year-old had never ridden in a sailboat on the ocean. His gaze lingered on the little craft coming in from the island and worried about all the bobbing. He didn’t look forward to the final leg of his escape.

  “Worried about a little boat ride?” Paki said. His fifteen-year-old companion rubbed his hands in anticipation before taking off after Valiso, or Val, as the boys called him.

  Actually Pol thought that ‘terrified’ described his current emotional state. His large horse quickly caught up to Val, Darrol Netherfield, his sworn man, and Paki. Pol wished he could feel the relief of reaching the refuge of the monastery, if it wasn’t for that boat ride.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Val said. He followed Pol’s eyes out to the ocean. “Does the little trip out to the monastery worry you? Think about your horse who will have to follow you in that big barge sitting at the dock.”

  A barge with ungainly sails bobbed in the water at the end of a stone dock. Pol instinctively reached down and patted his mount’s neck. He had yet to name his horse, once the property of his step-brother, Prince Landon. It had served him well in the two weeks they had been on the road. Their flight from Castle Borstall, where Pol’s mother had been poisoned and he had been disinherited, had been slowed up by the necessity of traveling cross-country rather than using North Salvan’s roads.

  At least Pol’s fragile constitution had held up during their ride. He wasn’t so sure what would happen on that boat, but that monastery was the only sanctuary available to Pol. Val thought the healers at Deftnis might be able to cure his heart and lung problem. As it was, Pol was convinced he would die before he reached the age of twenty, if he made it alive across all that water to the island.

  They stopped at a stable yard serving the monastery and removed their bags. Pol regretted leaving his horse in the care of someone else, but then his horse along with Darrol’s and Paki’s would make the crossing later when the sea had calmed. Val told them that he intended to stop just long enough to see him settled at Deftnis, and then he would be heading due north to the Imperial capital of Yastan.

  “I’m hungry,” Paki said, earning a scowl from Darrol.

  The former Borstall palace guard clapped Paki on the side of his head. “Not until we are across. You might lose whatever you shove in that bottomless maw of yours, otherwise. I know, I’ve made the crossing in conditions as bad as this and fed the fishies.”

  Val smirked, the shape of his usual smile, and called them over. “I can put you under during the crossing, but my magic works only if you’re willing.”

  Paki shook his head. “I’m brave enough.”

  Pol thought his friend looked a little uncertain of his claim. Pol had no desire to make a fool of himself for the sake of bravado. “I’ll take you up on that. Maybe another time I will take a chance.” He worried more about his heart beating out of chest with anxiety and losing his breath if the ride made him nauseous than losing whatever he had in his stomach.

  The boat they had seen from the cliff had put in alongside the dock and let passengers off. Three men wore the gray robes of monks, but Pol could see the men wore swords and had boots with spurs hiding behind the folds of thick cloth. One
of the monks had to be assisted off the boat, then threw off the helping hands once they reached the solid footing of the dock. The monk continued to walk a bit unsteadily right past them. The men nodded to Val, maybe recognizing him since Val had trained for years at the monastery.

  Pol looked at Paki, who swallowed a bit, but took a deep breath and gave his bag to one of the sailors on the boat.

  Once Pol had sat on the boat, Val joined him. “Are you ready?” Val said.

  Pol nodded.

  ~

  A bump woke up Pol. The boat bobbed against a thick wooden pier. “Are we here?”

  Darrol put Pol’s bag on his lap. “This is yours, but I’ll carry it up to the dock. Val will do the same with Paki’s. You might want to help your friend up the ladder.”

  Pol looked over at Paki, whose pale face held a sorrowful expression.

  “I’m a fool. I’m a fool. I’m a fool,” Paki said as he struggled up the ladder.

  Pol followed him and helped his friend walk around on the pier for a few steps.

  “Did you feed the fishies?” Pol teased.

  Paki nodded, and Darrol laughed. Pol looked back at the angry stretch of water knowing he had made the better decision.

  Val didn’t seem to pay any attention to them and stalked off the pier and into the village that made up the little port on the Isle of Deftnis. “Don’t bother about gawking. You’ll be down here often enough,” he said. “I want to get to Yastan before the month is out, so I can’t waste time.”

  It was a struggle to keep up with his former bodyguard, but they all followed Val like ducklings following their mother. Darrol had spent a few years in the monastery, but even he still examined the buildings as they trod through the village to an inn. A carriage that looked more like a covered cart stood in front.

  “We’ll take that the rest of the way,” Darrol said, as he put his bags in the back of the conveyance. Pol did the same, and soon his teeth shook and rattled as the cart made its way up the rough cobblestones that went to the Monastery sitting at the top of a hill overlooking Deftnis Port.