A sudden breeze carried the sickeningly sweet smell of death. He recognized the smell and tried to steel himself for what they would find beyond the next bend in the road.
Glancing around at the men behind him, JarDan dropped Storm’s reins knowing the years of training would conquer the horse’s innate aversion to the smell of blood and that he would stay as commanded. The sound of metal sliding against metal as the scouting party drew their swords was unnaturally loud in the dark. If this were, in fact, a trap, he was leading them into it blind. Only the Ancients knew what waited for them in the darkness ahead.
Dak made little sound as he took his position at JarDan’s back, straining to hear any sound as they neared the final bend. He knew his men were protecting each other the same way -- it was as natural as breathing to them, all part of a warrior’s training. By the Beard of the Prophet, he hoped they would all meet on the practice field again after this night was through.
The ominous yellow glow of a fire pit lay ahead of them. Not good. The light would make it impossible to see anyone approach from the other side.
“What the …”
Four bodies -- two men and two women -- sat around the fire, propped upright with spears embedded down their spines. Their decapitated heads rested on the ground between outstretched legs and atop each head was a crown. It was a brutal symbolic gesture for the rulers of the House of Tor.
JarDan had to clear his throat several times before he trusted himself to speak past the rising bile. “Have the men circle each side of the pit. Tell them to stay close to the rock, out of the light of the fire and signal when they reach the other side.”
Dak’s whispered instructions sent warriors moving away, blending with the shadows. JarDan measured the passage of time by the heavy pounding of his heart. Every human instinct urged him to offer aid to the men and women visible in the light of the fire pit. His warrior’s training kept him still until he was sure there was no further danger.
When the signal came from the far side of the circle of light, he was ready. Whoever was responsible for this massacre was long gone. He and his men were safe -- this time.
“Have the men move in -- slowly -- and check for survivors,” JarDan moved toward the fire and the macabre scene staged for his benefit. His heart cried out for retribution. He was fighting an enemy he never saw. Frustration, rage, sadness and fear for the safety of his family battled inside his chest. With a low growl, he jerked the cheap, paper crown from the head of the nearest man.
“Are you here, Morandoni?” He yelled as he circled the fire pit, his voice echoing back at him again and again. “You won’t win. I’ll find you and destroy you. This is a promise I make on my soul.”
“JarDan,” Dak interrupted, “there are no survivors.”
JarDan closed his eyes in resignation. “I didn’t expect any, but I hoped I was wrong. How many?”
“Eleven that we can locate. Seven men and four women. There may be more in the rocks, but we won’t know for sure until the sun rises. The men are already loading the bodies into the cargo wagon parked on the other side.”
A bark of mirthless laughter shook JarDan’s massive shoulders. “If Morandoni continues killing females, he won’t have a kingdom to rule. They’re our one chance for survival.”
“He knows that as well as any Anderan.” Dak agreed. “This is all staged to trigger a response from you -- or Zeth. He knows the penalty for harming a female is death, so he deliberately kills them. All we have to do is figure out why he’s provoking you with these assaults. Robbery isn’t his motive. That cargo wagon has enough energy ore to make a dozen men wealthy.”
“Since an Oracle, even a defrocked one, can’t challenge a mortal to combat, he’s trying to force me to come after him.” JarDan turned his back on the slaughter around him. “He’s playing a dangerous game that can only end with death -- his or mine.
“Post the guards then have the rest of the men get some rest. Tomorrow we can search for clues around the area, but I don’t expect to find anything. Morandoni’s Minions of the Dark probably pay for mistakes with their lives. We leave at first light.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I thought I might find you here.” King Zeth said as he joined Melodie in the garden. “Do you mind a little company?”
“Of course not.” She replied with a smile. She genuinely liked JarDan’s father and welcomed any opportunity to spend time with him. His unconditional acceptance of her into his family was one reason she felt like she might one day make a place for herself here on this alien world.
“Is there any word from the patrol?” She asked quietly. She spent last night sitting at her window -- watching the dark shadows of the mountains where JarDan and his men faced another unknown threat. Watching. Praying. Waiting.
“No, dear,” Zeth answered as he sat beside her and gathered her hands in his, “but I wouldn’t worry too much this early. It’s barely midday and they may have gone farther than we realize. I’m sure he’s safe and on his way home to us.”
“You said he should be back by morning. What if something’s happened to them? What if …”
“Enough of that!” He ordered. “You cannot bring him back any sooner by imagining all the what ifs that could happen. He is a capable warrior who’s seen his share of battles. You must be as brave.”
“I’ve never had to worry about anyone, except my grandfather and he didn’t leave the farm unless I drove him. I’m not prepared for this.” A fine tremor shook her slender frame and she had no idea whether it was from nerves or fear. Catching and holding the king’s sympathetic gaze, she asked about JarDan’s mother for the first time since she awoke on Anderas.
“How did your wife deal with watching you ride through the gate knowing you might not come back?”
There was a brief flash of pain before Zeth’s eyes cleared and she again stared into eyes the same deep blue as his son’s.
“I was already king when we were bonded. By Anderan law, the king cannot leave the compound in times of danger. There are hidden access routes to the MediCenter and to the Teleport Station for emergencies but we’ve never used them. The Castle has withstood every attack by invaders for as long as there is recorded history.”
“You still miss her, don’t you?” Melodie wanted to ask more about the woman who gave birth to her husband, but didn’t want to hurt Zeth with her questions. When the king stood and walked a few feet back toward the castle, she feared she had angered him until she saw the hard shudder pass through his body.
“I am to blame for her death.” His harsh statement was barely audible in the quiet of the garden.
“Horse feathers!” Her snort brought a reluctant chuckle to her father-in-law. “JarDan said she was murdered and you are definitely not a murderer.”
“No.” He admitted, walking back to the bench beneath the willow. “I didn’t kill her but I am responsible for her death.”
She sensed Zeth was marshaling his emotions and his words so she waited while he toyed with the swaying branches of the tree. Watching him pull the increasing number of yellow leaves from the branches, realized summer would soon turn to fall. Change. Everywhere there was change -- everywhere except in the lives of the two men she loves.
“This was her favorite place to be, did JarDan tell you?”
She knew by the way that he said it that he didn’t really expect an answer from her so she merely nodded and smiled.
“Arica spent as much time as she could manage here with her roses. She was so beautiful. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love her. Often I would slip quietly through the gate so she wouldn’t hear me, just to watch her. She’d be down on her knees, unmindful of her gown or her rank, digging and pruning.” He smiled fondly at her. “You remind of her in many ways.”
Melodie smiled in return, grateful he didn’t expect an answer from her. She wasn’t sure she could speak past the tightness in her throat. Would JarDan ever love her with such complete commitment and de
votion?
“I still dream of her here with the sun turning her cheeks pink as it warmed her skin and the breeze stirring the perfume of the blossoms around her until she carried the very fragrance of the petals themselves. And her smile …” With a slight shake of his head, Zeth’s face changed to a mask of bleak acceptance.
“One morning I came to watch her and found her gone. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, assuming her duties as queen called her back to the castle earlier than usual. JarDan, Dak and I went hunting before the midday meal and returned shortly before dark. When I couldn’t find Arica, I began to worry. No one could remember seeing her. We searched every inch of the castle compound and every building in the hamlet. We found no trace of her anywhere. Shortly after midnight I called a halt to the search until daylight when we would begin scouting the area around the castle.
“The boys were barely fifteen years old, frightened, yet fighting so hard to be brave. I didn’t have the heart to send them to their rooms, so I took them with me to mine. We didn’t talk much, just sat there in front of the fire until they finally fell asleep on the rug. I must have fallen asleep shortly after that. The next thing I remember is waking up just before dawn. I turned to the bed, hoping to see Arica. Thinking this must be some horrible nightmare.”
Zeth was breathing so hard and fast that Melodie rushed to him, sliding her arm around his waist. He folded his arms around her back holding her so tightly she was afraid he would crack a rib. How could he live with this much pain?
“You don’t have to tell me anymore. Please,” she whispered against the velvet of his tunic, “don’t do this to yourself.”
If he heard her, he ignored her plea.
“On the bed, in the very place she lay every night since our bonding, was her gown -- or what was left of it. It was ripped and torn until it was barely recognizable as a woman’s garment. By all the Ancient Prophets, there was so much blood. When I lifted the gown from the bed, her blood dripped onto the floor. It was still warm.”
Melodie held on as tight as she could, licking the tears from her lips and wishing she knew what to do to ease his torment.
“To this day, I don’t know how anyone got into that room to put the gown there. My guard was still in place outside the door and he didn’t see or hear anything. There is no other entry into the room other than the barred windows. Engineers and architects searched every inch of that room from floor to ceiling and wall to wall hoping to find a passage of some kind.”
Why did he continue to blame himself? He and JarDan and Dak were the victims of a brutal crime no one could have anticipated.
“You did everything you could. There was no way you could have prevented it.”
“If I hadn’t gone hunting, I might have prevented it. If I’d stayed in the castle I would have realized sooner that something was wrong. I should have protected her with my own life.”
“How?” Melodie asked softly. “By locking her in her room away from the sunshine and roses that made her so happy? Posting a guard to follow her around every minute of the day? Do you really believe she would live like that?”
Zeth gently pushed her away from his embrace and straightened his shoulders. Looking at him, she saw the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes.
“Sometimes, when the sun is bright and the flowers in full bloom, I can actually feel her presence here. Even in death she still soothes me. She was my heart, my soul, my very life and my failure brought her a hideously painful death.”
His suddenly intent gaze made her uncomfortable.
“It will not happen again.”
Without another word, JarDan’s father walked out of the garden leaving her to wonder what brought the sudden change in attitude to her father-in-law. After hearing the details of Arica’s death, she now understood why JarDan felt the need to have her remain so close to the castle. She still didn’t like it, but at least she could try to be a little more tolerant. She also understood how Zeth felt about the peace and tranquility here. More than once she had escaped to the haven of the garden, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of serenity. For some reason, Melodie always felt safe here. Secure. Cherished. Maybe Arica’s spirit watched over the family who still grieved for her, offering them in death the comfort she could no longer give them in life.
Stranger things have happened, Melodie Anne. She mumbled as she headed back to the castle. Until JarDan and his men returned the villagers couldn’t return to their own homes. Feeding that many people was a logistical nightmare. Introducing the residents of Falcon Tor to the build-it-yourself-soup-and-sandwich-bar made the task a little easier on the kitchen staff. Now, if she could figure out how to come up with a half-dozen dishwashers, she could ease the workload of the rest of the castle staff. All in good time, girl. All in good time.
* * * *
The grim convoy passed through the foothills of Falcon Tor in the fading afternoon sun. Slowed by the cumbersome mining wagon loaded with the remains of Morandoni’s latest campaign against his family, JarDan struggled to fit the pieces of this particular puzzle into order. What happened to turn one of the brightest young oracles in the history of Anderas into a creature of such unspeakable evil? He remembered the raving reviews from the Royal Oracle, Raiwan. The elderly man gleefully groomed Morandoni as his future replacement. Where was that brilliant, ambitious man? He and Dak were just beginning their study of the ancient language when Morandoni disappeared twenty-five years ago. As time passed and no trace of him appeared, Raiwan declared him dead. If not for the pages of Torak’s sinister journal, no one would know that Morandoni lived. Why now? Why after all this time?
“Your scowl is fierce enough to keep the scavenger birds away.” Dak’s dry comment was loud in the stillness broken only by the creak of leather, the thud of hooves, and the squeaky wheels of the wagon.
“There is little to smile about.” JarDan rotated his shoulders, easing the strain of long hours in the saddle and a night without sleep. “As on the Destiny I find more questions with every passing moment. Why” he turned until he could Dak’s face, “has he returned after all this time?”
Dak shook his head, a puzzled frown drawing his eyebrows into a dark slash across his face. “I wish I had answers for you but I can barely remember what he looked like. If there’s something from the past, from when he disappeared, that would make sense of this,” he indicated the wagon with a toss of his head, “surely Zeth or Raiwan would tell us.”
“From the beginning he’s been one step ahead of us. It’s like he knows what we’re thinking before we do.” With each mile they covered, JarDan’s frustration grew.
“He is an oracle, trained in the mystic arts of the Ancients,” Dak offered, “but I don’t recall mention of the ability to read minds.”
JarDan suddenly rubbed his palm against the slight ridge beneath his vest where Melodie’s severed braid rested against his heart. “I think the answer is as simple as keyholes, Dak.”
He smiled at the look of astonished understanding on Dak’s face when his friend remembered the incident on the practice field before the alarm sounded. His nod was more than affirmation, it was a silent acceptance that there was a traitor in the castle and a promise of immediate action when they returned to Tor.
“How soon do you think we’ll reach the compound?”
JarDan could read the sudden tension in Dak’s body. He still sat easily astride his horse, moving with the natural rhythm of the animal. His eyes still scanned the road before them, constantly watching for attack from the deepening shadows of twilight. The flexing of muscles in his jaw and the tightly compressed mouth were clues; but it was his eyes that held the proof. The darkness no longer glittered with inner fire but was as flat and lifeless as the bodies they carried in the wagon. Dak was a formidable ally but he was an even deadlier opponent. His personal convictions were stronger than any man JarDan had ever known and his loyalty, once given, was boundless. Dak wouldn’t stop until he discovered the spy and destroyed him.
“At this pace it will be close to sunset before we reach the MediCenter.” JarDan answered. “Any suggestions on where we can meet with my father to discuss this possibility?”
“I’d suggest the dungeon except for your fear of spiders.” Dak offered with a slight grin. “I’ll arrange a suitable place when we get home.”
Shuddering at the mention of the tiny arachnids, JarDan urged his horse to a faster pace.
* * * *
Melodie was showing a group of children how to make Indian yo-yos with a large button and sturdy twine when the alarm sounded from the tower. After two days of nonstop noise, the sudden silence in the hall was deafening. King Zeth waited for her by the heavy door, a battle sword gripped tightly in his hand.
“If you won’t stay within the castle, you’ll need a guard. It could be an attack, you know.”
She shook her head with a grim smile. “It’s the patrol.” She stated with conviction. The long hours of hiding her worries were over. She just hoped the answer to her prayers for his safe return hadn’t been no.
“Then you will greet him on the steps as is tradition.” Zeth informed her, taking her elbow in his free hand.
The warriors JarDan left to guard the compound filled the courtyard as word of the patrol’s return spread. From her advantage atop the steps she watched the heavy outer gate swing open and the weary men head for the stables, searching the crowd for the faces of their loved ones as they passed.
She tried. Lord, how hard she tried to remain standing on the step like a true princess would, waiting for her prince to return to her side. Her prince was home, but she failed her test as a true princess. As soon as JarDan swung down from Storm, Melodie bolted down the stairs.
The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King Page 18