Melaninth had wanted to run away and escape the obligation of being married to the Earl of Balgor. Sebine had to talk her out of such foolishness. For a royal to escape their fate...it was unthinkable. Death of the offending husband, and a long grieving period, say for ten years or more, only that provided solace and hope. Luckily Melaninth had listened to Sebine and accepted her temporary fate; her forbearance boosted by the assurances of Sebine that the Earl was old and highly likely to die soon. The gods favored the young and beautiful, after all. They were forever young and despised the old and the bitter. At least that was what the Hakkadians whispered amongst themselves when they thought no one was listening. Sebine knew that those ideas would be heresy to the Calathian Church. But she believed them.
As the train leading the newly wedded couple left the cathedral, King Braxion leaned towards Sebine and let out a nervous laugh.
"Soon it will be your turn to marry... You can't continue rejecting all the suitors that come your way. You're getting old, your eighteenth birthday just passed." The King rubbed his grey, scraggly goatee and lifted a finger as if inspired by a brilliant idea. "Duke Selby would be a perfect alliance, his lands are close to the dwarves in the north, rich in gold and silver and weapons trade. And he is recently widowed." Her brother, Prince Brandeth, made a maddeningly disgusting face at her, as if to say, Enjoy sucking his old cock.
Sebine closed her eyes and sighed. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with the King or her brother now. The Duke was a fine, strong, handsome man, but how could she marry someone close to fifty-years old? He had three daughters her age, and a son...wasn't he seventeen now?
"A fine suggestion, Father." She mumbled the last word on purpose. "I will take it under consideration. Am I excused now? I'd like to take a walk outside...I'm feeling in need of fresh air."
"Why of course, my dear. Your grace and generosity today has made me proud." Braxion snapped a finger and sly-eyed Yaez appeared out of the shadows and bowed low to the King.
"Of course you will ensure her safety...but keep an eye out, just the same. Rumors are swirling of half-elf assassins roaming the city." The King stared at Aral, the Grand Chamberlain, who twisted both sides of his long mustache. "What do you suppose the elves are plotting now?"
A shadow momentarily cast over Aral's face from a figure standing at the open door of the cathedral. Sebine bowed quickly and glided towards the light leading her outside. But before she was too far, she heard the Grand Chamberlain say, "Some claim they've formed an alliance with the Hakkadians. The elves' blood is thick with magic."
His voice wavered to a murmur as she approached the richly adorned twin mahogany doors. Why would the Hakkadians ally with the elves? She thought that the King paid a fortune to keep them in the employ of Valance. But maybe gold wasn't what they wanted now. The elves, being older and wiser than humans, were rumored to possess knowledge and artifacts older than recorded history. And the strange ruins of the east, written in ancient lore, yet undiscovered by men. Entry to the eastern Kingdom of Drazal'tan was forbidden by humans.
Outside the air held the chill of late autumn and thick, angry clouds bunched up together, threatening rain. Sebine inhaled a deep breath and purged the somber mood of the hideous wedding. She wanted to scream and balled up her fists as she stomped across the cathedral's wide plaza, trying not to picture Melaninth's pale, hopeless face. The Ghalaris puzzle box would work its curse too late to preserve her friend's maidenhood, and likely too late to keep her from conceiving a child by that horrible man.
Soon the smell of sweet meats and cakes wafted into her nostrils as she entered Balzan Square, bustling with rich merchants and their hawk-eyed wives, and traders displaying goods from lands afar. This was Sebine's favorite market filled with exotic goods and delicious food. Her stomach grumbled. Casting eyes towards the elegant cake and tea cafe perched above the market, her spirits lifted, dreaming of thick cream and strawberry cake and black tea infused with ruby roses and raspberries. Mother always cheered her up by taking her here for tea and cake. Sebine felt a bit guilty for not asking Mother along, but after the wedding all she wanted was to be left alone.
As the tea maid seated her at an umbrella table overlooking a jewelry vendor, she spotted Yaez who winked at her with a dirty grin. How she hated that vermin. Why the King had assigned him of all people as her bodyguard was beyond her understanding. She was free to roam the palace without Yaez shadowing her, but outside the protection of the Vizathian Knights guarding the palace, Yaez constantly followed her. No matter how hard she tried to lose him, she couldn't shake him. At least he never bothered her and never dared to start a conversation.
She studied the pretty, shiny-faced maid bobbing her head as she remembered Sebine's selection. She smiles because she's dreaming of the handsome boy she'll see tonight. How lucky the tea maid was. Free of royal duty and obligation to marry without consent. How she envied her. Many of the faces seated around her she recognized from the cathedral. Their eyes were bored, distant, preoccupied, and morose. Funny that, weddings were supposed to make people happy. But most of the women seated around the cafe stared into space as if trying to find something they'd lost. Like their innocence...
A new wave of shoppers poured into the square from the direction of the cathedral, and Sebine guessed these were the last of the well-wishers to the newly wedded pair. Likely the ones most desperate to win favor from the Earl. The ones with the lowest standing in the royal caste, or those rich in title but poor in land and gold. Her eyes settled on a silver silk stall nestled in the corner of the market. Red calligraphic script marked the tent as the official trader from the City of Yhalan. How strange to find the trader from Yhalan here now... They usually only came to Valance in the summer festival.
Sebine pursed her mouth and stared at the lean, youthful merchant displaying jeweled earrings that shimmered in a ray of sunlight breaking through the thick clouds. The obese woman near the merchant opened her mouth in an ugly maw as she tried on the earrings. The merchant caught Sebine's gaze and locked eyes with her for a long, uncomfortable moment, and finally turned back to accept gold from the woman's indifferent husband. When the couple left, the merchant raised his eyes invitingly and motioned Sebine over to his stall.
The man has some nerve to gesture like that to a noblewoman. But he did look familiar somehow... Where had she seen him before? He wasn't like the merchant from the Yhalan stall earlier in the summer. That man was fat and jolly and laughed and made jokes until mirth-filled tears streamed down his chubby cheeks. This man was young—almost a boy—and moved stealthily like a cat and had an air of darkness that seemed to follow him. Somehow she recognized his movements...similar to the Hakkadians. The strange thing about them was how they all moved and gestured in similar ways, like they were of one mind, of one body. Like an invisible hand controlled them all.
The maid's arrival shattered her mesmerized gaze as the girl placed a porcelain teapot on the white tablecloth. She set silverware around the plate filled with a slice of delicious-looking strawberry cake, and placed a bowl of clotted cream next to the tea. Steam bubbled up as the maid poured the fragrant tea into the white teacup. She curtsied and trotted off to help another customer.
As Sebine took a sip of the vanilla-laced tea, she caught the Yhalan merchant's impatient frown. She shot him back a scowl and huffed, galled by the man's rudeness. Lifting a bite of the cake to her lips, she ate slowly, and sent him a mocking expression. She knew she was acting childish, but the man was practically her age and treating her with absolutely no respect at all. Instead of reacting in anger, the man tapped his foot on the cobblestone and twirled a finger as if saying, "Any day now..."
She fumed and her fork clattered loudly on the plate as she unconsciously dropped it. Eyes stared at her from around the cafe as if she were some uncouth commoner. When they recognized her, they turned away and returned to eating, whispering, or simply staring at nothing at all. Flushed with embarrassment, she stood and
dropped a few silver coins on the table, and stomped towards the Yhalan stall, determined to put the man in his place. She'd had enough of his rudeness.
Just when Sebine was ready to slap the man's now smiling face, he bowed low and submissively, disarming her advance. With a voice sonorous and smooth as a summer breeze, the man spoke without lifting his eyes.
"I've been expecting you, Your Royal Highness. The Hakkadians have honored me with the task of giving you a gift."
Chapter Three
TAEL REACHED THE Perinith city gates just as the light was fading from the overcast sky. The gate soldiers scowled as he entered the city, but Tael knew better and kept his eyes low and expression submissive. His grandfather had trained him to be wary of soldiers and guards, and to never look them in the eyes. They were like dogs, responding violently to direct eye contact. And they smell like filthy dogs, too. He pinched his nose after he passed the squad of soldiers littering the air around the gate.
Perinith was a notoriously dirty and dangerous border city, guarding the Kingdom of Valance from the Dwarven kingdom to the north. Mostly the dwarves kept to themselves, mining and crafting and scheming against the elves in their underground cities, but lately rumors abounded of bands of roaming dwarves that had taken to overrunning outposts and smashing borderland patrols into bloody pulps. Tael observed that a larger amount of soldiers marched through the city compared to the last time he'd visited with his grandfather. Are they preparing for war?
Mobs of street urchins roamed the muddy streets: boys and girls, their eyes hungry and calculating, glancing over Tael as if he were an unworthy target. He headed for the Boar's Breath Inn in the heart of the artisan quarter, remembering his last visit there fondly. The cottage pie filled with minced beef and pork and a crust of mashed potatoes. The warm honey mead and the heat of the hearth. But his best memory was of the flame-red-haired girl who worked at the inn and had snuck into his room after his grandfather had gone out on one of his mysterious errands. The scent of her skin still haunted his mind.
Lamplighters urged the gas street lanterns to life, and at their ignition cast eerie, flickering shadows onto brick and stone walls. What had surprised Tael about Perinith was the lack of cobblestone or stone streets found in plenty of the other cities of the kingdom. Perinith's streets were a muddy mess that smelled of shit. When he had asked the Boar's Breath innkeeper why there were no stone streets, the man had scoffed and said the muddy streets made a good home for the pigs.
By the time Tael reached the inn he felt a chill in his bones from the night air and he rubbed his hands briskly before reaching out to open the iron and wooden door. The heat and noise inside washed over him as he entered, and the only eyes that noticed him were that of the fat innkeeper, who the locals called Paddy.
"Welcome to the Boar's Breath Inn." Paddy squinted and studied Tael. A flash of recognition and concern spread over his face, but was gone in an instant. "Take a load off and warm yerself at the fire. I'll have Maysie bring you a mug of warm mead."
Maysie...wasn't that her name? Tael remembered bright blue eyes and ruddy cheeks on a smile that flowered under a curious glance he'd first given her. They had exchanged words in the flurry between her delivering drinks to tables and patrons by the fire. He discovered that she was orphaned after a plague had killed her parents when she was sixteen. After that she was forced to seek work, leaving her devastated village for Perinith. Although the work was hard, the inn was safe and kept her fed and sheltered, with a promise of one day finding a farmer who was willing to marry her. Or as she teased him, a strong, handsome boy who'd take her away from the life she lived.
A short, squat woman waddled over to Tael, and handed him a warm mug filled with mead. Tael's heart sank. So this was Maysie?
"There you go, dearie. A little drink to fight off the chill in yer bones." She flashed a smile of missing and mottled teeth.
Tael thanked the woman and sipped the sweet mead. "Where is the red-haired girl that worked here about a year ago?"
A grin played on the woman's face and she wagged a fat finger at him. "You little devil, you. I remember you and Daisy flirting and carousing all night. And don't you think I failed to notice her sneaking into your room after your grandfather went out on his business. Naughty boy... You're a bit late coming back for her, though. She done been married off to a carpenter, and happy was she that a fine, strong man like him ask for her favor. He wasn't handsome or anything as you, but he loved her and offered her a good life in a house he'd built with his own hands."
"I'm glad to hear it," Tael said, and meant it. "She had a hard life with her parents dying from the plague and all. Now she can start a family of her own."
Maysie's eyes brightened. "You remember all that about our little Daisy? Tis rare for a man to listen to women, and even rarer for them to remember us. Will you be needing a room for the night? And where is your grandfather?"
"I'll be meeting him later...and a room for the night would be much appreciated."
"Oh, it's nothing, dearie, nothing at all for someone as you." She patted his arm and waddled back to the kitchen.
Not a little disappointed, Tael was happy for Daisy nonetheless, though he still wished she were there to keep him company at night. Maysie came back and handed him a warm plate filled with a huge helping of cottage pie. She winked at him and returned to the bar, where she whispered to the innkeeper. Now Tael knew why his grandfather had chosen the inn, it was safe and almost felt like visiting family. And the idea of seeing his family again was a distant, painful memory.
After he'd devoured the food and had had his third mug of mead, Tael's eyes felt heavy from the heat of the fire and the satisfied feeling of a full stomach. He made his way over to the bar—stumbling a bit from his light head—and asked the innkeeper for the key to his room. The man looked confused for a moment, then Maysie came over and whispered into the innkeeper's ear.
"Oh, I didn't realize you'd be staying for the night. Let me get you the key and I'll ask young Tad to show you up to your room."
Tael turned from the bar and leaned back, scanning the room with bleary eyes. Two men dressed in black, woolen cloaks quickly looked away from him and stared into their drinks. Tael was about to ask the innkeeper about the men when he felt a tug on his cloak. A boy of perhaps ten motioned towards the stairs and Tael followed him up and around to a small room in the back of the inn that was adorned with nothing but a bed. Tael said goodnight to the boy, locked the door, and crawled under the covers.
Sleep erupted into a blaze of the nightmare that haunted him many a night. The assassin dressed in black, spinning around to attack, the light of a lantern illuminating the black heart etched on the assassin's cape. The fury of red blood arcing across the air. Mother's scream as Father's knees buckled, his face lost and desperate and so filled with love for Mother.
Then his mother's panicked face turned calm and she faced him. "Wake now, son. They are coming..."
He woke with a start to find pain surging through his head. The three drinks he'd drank now wracked his brain. His eyes were bleary but when he heard wooden boards creaking outside his room, his mind sharpened somewhat through the fog. He reached for Balensaar—his father's sword—the one his grandfather had given him after Father had been killed. The wrapped leather hilt felt warm and inviting as he wielded the blade and tensed, waiting back in the corner of the small room.
Light burst from under the door—blinding Tael for a moment—and shouts and grunts could be heard from down the hall. Another blast of light caused an explosion farther away that sounded like it had ripped the inn in half. Heart hammering in his chest, Tael gripped the sword and flung open the door. A cacophony of screams and moans intermixed with the shouts of steel on steel and a series of booming explosions. He quickly peered around the door jamb and spotted the black maw of starlight pouring in through a hole in the side of the inn. What the hell did that?
Tael grabbed his pack and snuck down the littered hallway, k
eeping himself low. He peered down the hole in the side of the inn and spotted several severed bodies, shredded arms and legs, a bloody splash on the floor, and what looked like a jaw lying haphazardly in the rubble. The stairway barely clung to the wall and he stepped gingerly, testing the boards, and satisfied, he quickly stepped and jumped down to the bottom. The main room of the inn was in ruins, chairs and tables lay askew, the hearth collapsed, and bricks were spilled out of the broken mouth of the chimney. Tael's stomach clenched and felt sick as he spotted Paddy the innkeeper splayed on the floor beneath the barrels of beer and ale and mead, his eyes open and empty of life.
The sounds of battle grew louder outside, steel and screams and the blasting of buildings. A massive explosion outside caused Tael to take cover as the hull of the inn imploded. Standing, he could now see out at the ruined remains of soldiers slain in a furious street battle. Was this war? Were the dwarves invading the city? But whatever happened had started in the inn and whoever had been attacked brought the battle outside. Tael had been sure that he was the target, but it seemed otherwise. He was certain of one thing, he would do all he could to avoid getting pulled into the confrontation. The Capitol City of Trikar was his destination, not a petty battle in a border town.
If he remembered right, the barge running down the Elden River was south past the artisan quarter. Tael's hopes sank as he ran south and heard more explosions coming from the same direction. The view south cleared as the smoke lifted into the air. Buildings were wrecked, streets filled with broken stone and brick, all the way to the city walls. The gods are playing tricks tonight... Then a plume of fire a hundred feet high shot into the starry sky. The smoke condensed into low clouds and a wave of lightning wracked the walls below and caused screams of agony to burst from a squad of soldiers far off at the southern gate. Lightning craves the steel of sword and helm. The words of his grandfather poured into his mind.
Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) Page 2