The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

  The balcony doors opened, and Piair turned to see who had interrupted him. It was one of the few people in the kingdom who could barge in unannounced: his mother, Katerina.

  “Good afternoon, my son,” she said. “Come give your old mother a kiss.” She held out her arms to him.

  Piair frowned. At twenty years old he didn’t want his mother treating him like a baby. He had been king for over a year now, since his father was killed. Yet no one else was around, and the palace was the highest point in the Citadel, so nobody could look down and see him. Begrudgingly he gave Katerina a kiss on the cheek, then bid her to sit at a wrought-iron table next to the balustrade.

  The queen mother took a seat and poured two glasses of cider. She was a plump woman whose silver hair was streaked with the dark strands of her youth. Piair knew his own hair would look like that one day. He bore many of her features: black hair, gray eyes, strong chin. Yet Piair preferred to consider the ways he was dissimilar to his mother. She was short; he was tall. She was heavyset; he was thin. Even their ears were different: her lobes were attached to her jaw, but his hung free. Piair wanted the people of Chiveis to liken him not to Katerina but to his father, and to judge him a worthy successor. I wish I looked more like him, Piair thought. His sister, Princess Habiloho, had been blessed with their father’s red hair, earning her the nickname “Flame of Chiveis.” The thought of the deceased princess made Piair gloomy. He missed her.

  “Habiloho always liked that sweet cider,” he said, trying to spark a conversation. He found that talking about his sister actually eased the pain in some ways.

  “She would be thirty this year. I should be bouncing a redheaded grandbaby on my knee instead of mourning.”

  Piair reached for his cider. “To the Flame of Chiveis,” he said, raising his tumbler.

  Katerina nodded and drank.

  “What brings you here today, Mother? Perhaps you have news from my kingdom. What do you hear from the streets?”

  “The people fear you, that’s for sure.”

  “As they should.”

  The queen mother glanced at her son. “Should they?”

  “Of course. They feared Father, didn’t they?”

  “They feared his authority. They feared his justice when they did wrong. Upstanding citizens didn’t cower before him.”

  The implications of Katerina’s statement irritated Piair. “So what are you saying? My people are oppressed by their lord?”

  “There are those who believe freedoms in Chiveis have been curtailed of late,” the queen mother answered.

  “I wish I knew who they were. The Royal Guard would knock some sense into them.”

  Katerina sipped her cider. “My son, a king can be strong without dominating his people.”

  “The High Priestess teaches otherwise.”

  “The High Priestess?” Katerina scowled. “Since when was she admitted to the royal family? I have no regard for that dirty sl—”

  Piair slammed his glass to the table. “I hope you weren’t about to say what I think you were!”

  “Oh, now you defend her too!” the queen mother spat. “No doubt she visits you as she did your father.”

  Piair felt his cheeks turn hot. “She is the mediatrix of the high god. Her rituals of sacred union are required of the king.”

  “Rituals? Is that what they’re calling it these days? In my day we had a different word.”

  “You overstep yourself, Mother.”

  Katerina shook her head and sighed, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sorry, Piair. You know I love you. I wish to offer you counsel, not critique.”

  “And what is your counsel?”

  “Ease the burden upon the people. Grant freedom of religion. Let them seek their own gods—or God, as the case may be.”

  “A single god? You refer to the god of Christianism?”

  “Perhaps. What harm would there be in that?”

  Fury exploded in Piair’s soul. He pounded his palm on the patio table, overturning his cider. “I will never tolerate that god! It’s his fault that Habiloho and Father are dead! Astrebril hates this so-called ‘Deu.’ When Teofil and Anastasia introduced him to our land, Astrebril sent his deadly fire as punishment.” Piair drilled his mother with a fierce stare. “Or do you so quickly forget the king’s memory?”

  Katerina rose from her seat. It took her a long moment to regain her composure. Piair watched her, his heart thumping hard. He swallowed nervously but tried to keep his expression firm, as befitted a man of his station.

  “Piair,” his mother said at last, “I think it is you who has forgotten the memory of the king.”

  She turned and walked inside the palace, leaving Piair alone.

  “Look at this, Marco.”

  Teo handed a piece of folded stationery to his friend. Only a few seconds passed before Marco’s face took on an expression of surprise. “The Iron Shield wants you to visit his chambers in private?”

  “Yeah. And read on. Look at the reason why.”

  “He says he wants to make a deal with you.”

  Brother Thomas sat up in his chair in the guest room at Montblanc Palace. “We’re not here to deal with him. We’re here to bring a message to Mayor Calixte. I think you should leave that warrior alone.”

  “Me too,” Marco agreed. “The man is evil. You of all people should know that, Teofil.”

  “I do know it. I don’t plan on striking any bargains with him.”

  Marco frowned. “Surely you don’t intend to go to his room? It could be a trap! That guy wants nothing more than to kill you—as slowly and painfully as possible.”

  “I know. But here in Jineve he’s limited by having to keep up appearances. I don’t think he’d try anything that would blow his cover.”

  “You don’t think he would,” Marco said skeptically, “but what if he did?”

  “Things could turn ugly real quick. On the other hand, what if I missed a chance to gain some information about his plans?”

  “We’re not talking about verbal sparring around the dinner table here. The Iron Shield is a killer. You’d be alone in his room.”

  “Look, I refuse to be afraid of men like him. I intend to meet him head-on. Respect his capabilities, yes. Be cautious, of course. But I won’t show fear. And I won’t back down.”

  Marco wagged his head back and forth. “I can’t decide if you’re the cockiest person I know or the most courageous.”

  “Neither,” Teo replied with a grin. “It’s just that I have Deus on my side, and that makes me bold.”

  “Hmm, the Lord God is a mighty helper,” Brother Thomas said thoughtfully.

  Marco stared at his two companions for a moment, then went to his duffle and retrieved a little knife. He held it by its tip and offered the haft to Teo. “Put that in your boot. I’m sure the Lord God won’t mind if you use it in a pinch.” Teo chuckled as he complied with Marco’s request.

  At the appointed time the three men made their way to the palace wing where the Iron Shield was quartered. A shaman opened the door when they knocked. “We’re here to see your master,” Teo said.

  “We know why you have come, Teofil of Chiveis. We have eyes in every head.”

  “And yet you cannot see.”

  The shaman offered a blank stare but didn’t respond.

  “Are you going to admit us or what?” Teo finally asked.

  “Only you were invited into my master’s presence. His words require privacy. The others may not pass.”

  “There’s nothing you can say to me that you can’t say to my friends.”

  “Nevertheless, only you may enter.”

  “How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Marco asked with an edge in his voice.

  The shaman scowled. “Such suspicions are worthy of a pirate robber like you, Marco of the high seas. But we in our ancient society are civilized. My master intends a parlay, not skullduggery.”

  Teo turned to Marco and Brother Thomas. “I’ll only be gone a few moments
. Let me see what the man wants, then I’ll return. You wait here.”

  The shaman offered an oily smile and led Teo into the room. The second-floor salon afforded a splendid view of the Jinevan waterfront. Teo could see pedestrians strolling along the promenade that lined the docks. The fountain on the jetty spewed its water high into the air until the wind scattered the spray like a rooster-tail. Out on the sparkling lake, tiny sails dotted the waves.

  A door opened, and the Iron Shield entered the salon. Instead of his customary hauberk of chain mail he wore a fashionable tunic. The man was a head taller than Teo and had tree trunks for legs, yet despite his size he moved with graceful ease. “Greetings, Teofil,” he said, dipping his chin like some kind of distinguished gentleman.

  “Why have you called me here?” Teo asked. He didn’t intend to play polite games with a man responsible for so much death and suffering.

  “I see you wish to be direct. Very well then.” The Iron Shield clasped his hands behind his back and stared out the window. “It appears you and I have a common enemy.”

  Teo couldn’t think of anything he had in common with the head of the Exterminati, so he remained silent.

  “Who do you hate most in this world?” the Iron Shield asked.

  You, Teo thought, but immediately corrected himself. There was one person he opposed even more.

  The Iron Shield whirled to face Teo. “She is my enemy too.”

  What? How does he know . . .

  “It’s true,” said the dark warrior. “The High Priestess of Chiveis is my mortal foe.”

  Teo was flabbergasted. The Iron Shield was based in Roma. From there he had managed to dig his claws into Likuria and Ulmbartia. Now he had even reached Jineve. But Chiveis? How does this man know the High Priestess?

  “Explain yourself,” Teo said.

  “I journeyed to Chiveis and sought to ally myself with the painted queen of your land. But she would not see me. She did not want my aid. I grew angry and made threats, so she cursed my skills in battle by the immense power of her god. Now I hate her with an abiding hate.”

  “What does all this have to do with me?”

  The Iron Shield went to a sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. He offered it to Teo, but when Teo didn’t respond he put it to his lips and drank it down. Pointing at Teo with the empty glass he said, “You and I must enter into an alliance.”

  Teo had no such intentions. Yet he wanted to know the plans the Iron Shield had in mind, so he asked, “What kind of alliance?”

  “Let us defeat the High Priestess together. Let us march against her with armies of war. And then, when she is ground beneath our heels like a cockroach, I will give you a great gift.”

  “You have nothing to offer to me.”

  “I beg to differ, Teofil.” The Iron Shield’s teeth were white and even as he smiled. “With my help you can have your heart’s greatest desire.”

  “What would that be?”

  “You may rule Chiveis as king. I have no interest in that frigid land of hardscrabble fields and barren peaks. Once I have my revenge, I will go on my way and never return. You could rule the realm as you see fit. Introduce your own deity if you wish. I will leave that up to you.”

  Teo eyed the Iron Shield. “I possess neither armies nor wealth. What would my part in this alliance be?”

  “You know Chiveis better than anyone. Help me with an invasion strategy. You are the perfect man for the job.”

  “And if I were to say yes?”

  “Then let us go immediately to my ship at the docks. I will take you to a camp on the lake, a secret place in the wilderness where we can make plans. Think of it, Teofil! This is your chance to fulfill all your dreams. You can reign supreme in Chiveis. Take the lovely Anastasia as your queen. Bring De . . . bring your god to that realm. I can make all these things happen for you! Just come with me to my ship.”

  Teo couldn’t deny the appeal of what was being offered. The High Priestess defeated. The Iron Shield gone forever. The Chiveisi serving Deu. And . . . marriage to Ana?

  No! Not like this!

  The fantasy collapsed as Teo’s inner vision clarified. He backed toward the door. “Get away from me, you tempter! Your words are devious. I would never join with you.”

  The Iron Shield’s face fell. “I see. Well, I must say, that is most disappointing.” He snapped his fingers.

  The shamans attacked faster than seemed humanly possible. They ran—almost as if flying—from behind the curtains that draped the room. Teo was reaching for his boot knife when a wire encircled his neck. He struggled against the assailants who held him, but it was no use. A cloth covered his nose, filling his nostrils with a cloying scent. Dizziness fogged his brain, then everything went black.

  Darkness . . . jostling . . . men shouting.

  Nothing.

  Cramped muscles . . .

  More darkness.

  Teo squinted. A headache pounded in his temples. His tongue felt thick and dry. He tried to move but found he could not. Panic rose within him. He pressed the walls around, but nothing yielded.

  Buried alive?

  Terror seized Teo. His pulse shot up, and his breath came in rapid pants. Horrified, he thrashed as he lay on his side.

  Nearby a man shouted a curse. Others responded with laughter.

  Okay. Not buried. What then?

  Teo felt the confining walls. They were made of wood. A few cracks let in a little light. Apparently he was in a trunk or coffin of some kind.

  Teo exhaled a deep breath, fighting off the claustrophobia that threatened to overwhelm him. He put his eye to the nearest crack but couldn’t see out. Bending his knee as much as he could, he reached down for his knife. It was too far, but he kept straining until his fingertips found the hilt. Gradually the knife slipped from his boot . . . and clattered to the floor of the trunk.

  Easy now, Teo. Take it slow and easy.

  He lowered his arm until his hand could touch the floor. His fingers probed back and forth. There it is! Elated, he grasped the knife with a solid grip.

  Teo inserted the tip of his blade into the trunk’s latch, trying to turn the bolt that would free the lid. Sweat stung his eyes as he struggled with the lock. Several times he had to calm himself before he could continue.

  At last Teo felt the blade catch against the bolt. With as much torque as he could apply, he gave the knife a hard twist.

  The tip of the blade snapped off, and the knife flew from his hands. No! Despair washed over Teo. His body went limp.

  “Ready? Now!”

  The lid of the trunk popped open. Numerous hands seized Teo and hauled him out, dazed and confused.

  He was dragged to a clearing in the forest. Teo saw he was beside Leman Sea, though not within Jineve. The place was a deserted wilderness.

  The shamans forced him to lay spread-eagle in the dirt. Two men pinned his arms and legs, while a third held iron stakes and a hammer. He brandished them at Teo with a delighted smile.

  “Secure the hands first,” the Iron Shield instructed. “The spikes will go through easier there than through the ankles.”

  Aghast, Teo felt the tip of a stake touch his palm. The shaman with the hammer raised it high. And then Teo reacted.

  Curling his hand around the spike, he yanked it from his enemy’s grasp and stabbed the sharp piece of iron into the man’s thigh. The shaman dropped his hammer and howled as Teo withdrew the bloody spike and clubbed the second man across the skull. Wrenching his leg free, Teo kicked the third shaman in the face and bolted to his feet.

  The Iron Shield held a long poker whose tip glowed red-hot. Enraged, he swung it at Teo. The blow was swift, and Teo wasn’t able to dodge it completely. The poker clipped his left shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

  The Iron Shield loomed over him. Teo gripped the iron stake in his clenched fist. His enemy was wearing chain mail again, and Teo knew the stake wouldn’t penetrate the armor’s well-wrought links.

  “Prepare for pain,�
� the Iron Shield sneered.

  “You first!”

  Teo plunged the spike through the top of the Iron Shield’s foot deep into the earth. The dark warrior roared in agony. Teo scrambled up and ran.

  The Exterminati clawed at him as he rushed to escape. At the edge of the forest clearing a shaman drew a bow. Teo seized one of his adversaries by his loose black robe and hurled him around. The arrow took the man in the upper back, thrusting its bloody head from his chest. Teo snapped off the arrow’s shaft and dropped his human shield.

  The man with the bow fumbled for a second arrow as Teo charged him. Though the shaman managed to get it on the string, he didn’t have time to draw before Teo jabbed the arrow stub into his throat, knocking him backward in a cascade of blood. The bow and arrow flew from his hand, but Teo caught them both, then turned and nocked the arrow with the fluid motion of an experienced archer. Several shamans were almost on him. When Teo dropped the closest, the rest dived for cover. Teo dashed into the woods after snatching up the quiver.

  He dodged through the trees, running at full speed, ignoring the branches that whipped at his face. Somewhere nearby a horse whinnied. As Teo broke into a clearing where thick grass grew, a chestnut stallion with a white blaze turned to look at him. The animal wore a fine saddle, and its flanks were sweaty. A towel, currycomb, and overturned bucket were on the ground. Evidently the shaman who was about to rub down the horse had left his post when he heard the commotion.