by Rachel James
A younger man, dressed in fine silvery blue clothing, with an arrogant air that suggested his nobility, strode over to Alys and held out his hand to her.
At first, she shook her head to him, her cheeks flushing red, eyes widening. He knew she was panicking but trying to keep control of her emotions. Every part of him wanted to step over and push the man out of the way. But he was neither her husband, father, nor in this scenario, her bodyguard. He clenched his jaw as she gave in to the pushy man’s demands and rose to dance with him. The slow music marked a paradoxical elegance, for the man held himself far too close to Alys. Druce perched on the edge of his chair clearly torn between duty and fatherhood.
Alys was dressed in a long red flowing gown, that swished as she was pulled along the hall floor. They danced right passed him, and Alys’s eyes were stone cold, her knuckles gripped so tightly, they’d lost all colour.
“Please, my lord, you are hurting me.”
The man leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.
Alys’s chest rose erratically.
That was it, Niall could not just stand here and do naught. He glanced around the room, looking for something, anything he could use. He exhaled, there was naught, without drawing attention to himself.
He waited until they passed by again, and this time he stuck out his foot. As the man stumbled to the ground, Niall slipped behind a tapestry.
“Who did that?”
“My lord, it was an accident,” Alys said, in her ever-serene voice. “I am exhausted and don’t know what came over me. Never been one for dancing. Please forgive me, and my clumsy feet. If you would excuse me, I wish to retire.”
Niall followed her down the hall and to her chamber on the east side of the fortress. There was already a guard at her door. After Alys went in, he went over to the soldier.
“You can go, I’ll take it on from here.”
“But the commander said I was to stay put until morning.”
“Who do you think sent me? Mayhap he wants you to get some rest. I hear there may be trouble coming tomorrow, and we’ll need all the men on standby.”
The guard nodded. “All right, I could use a break. Been standing here for hours and my foot has cramped.”
Niall breathed a sigh of relief. He tapped gently on Alys’s door, removed his helmet, and then went inside.
“Niall?” Alys ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his broad chest. “I didn’t dare hope you’d come.” She pulled her head away and glanced at his uniform. “So that is how you got in.”
He grinned and walked into her chamber.
“They’re keeping us prisoner.”
“I know. I take it you’ve not found the helmet?”
She shook her head. “Nay, I was on my way to go, but they wouldn’t let me leave.”
“What do you mean, I thought it was being kept in the fortress?”
“Nay, the Scripture refers to a resting place in high places, and I thought there may be something further up this mountain—”
“Alys, there is naught higher up.”
“You are sure?”
“Aye.”
He moved over to the window and looked out thoughtfully. “Resting place...high place...does it not refer to heaven?”
“It could, but unless there is a Tower of Babel somewhere, I don’t think you will reach—” She stopped and stared at Niall viewing the rest of the building. “The watchtower?”
He shrugged. “’Tis closer to heaven than down here. Fancy a little trip?”
“Aye, I do. Wait a minute, and I’ll get dressed.”
She stepped inside the privy and wedged open the wooden seat.
“You stowed your armour in the privy?”
She pressed her lips together, “Mm hmm.” She raised her shoulder. “Last place one would look, don’t you think?”
“Why did you leave, Alys?”
She sighed. “Honestly?” She played with the buckle in her hands. “I was angry that the man I admired, trusted, and depended upon, had been deceptive.”
“I never lied to you, Alys.”
“Isn’t information withheld equal to lying?”
He nodded slowly. “Mayhap… I never set out to deceive you. I merely needed time to figure out who I am, what my purpose is.”
“You are a king.”
He shook his head. “Being born a prince does not make me a king. I’ve seen many men rise as kings, appointed by themselves, and not God. It leads to their downfall. When I left Angularem, I did not desert them. I saw my shipwreck as an opportunity to seek God’s will for my life. Along that journey, I met you.”
“You stayed… because of me?”
He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his. They had never been this close before. But then, he was no longer her soldier. Now, he was her equal, and this changed everything. Dare she begin to let those suppressed feelings surface? Think to the future, and what that might look like with him?
“I couldn’t leave your side.”
She tried to control her breathing, but she thought she might pass out. He was so close to her. She shut her eyes as he neared.
“However, your words have caused me to ponder. After all this, I think it best that I return to my people. For the first time, in such a long time, I feel ready to resume responsibility. In all actuality, I miss it.”
Her eyes flung wide open, and she staggered back, propping herself on the bed for moral support. “You’re leaving me?”
“Not yet, I’ll see this through with you. But when order is restored...”
For the first time, she began to wonder if she wanted to find the sword at all—if it meant Niall would return home. She shook her head to rid herself of her own stupidity. What was she thinking? All this for a man? She was the rightful queen of Rivalyn. She had a duty to her people to restore order. Her feelings were inconsequential.
She breathed in and forced a smile. “Whatever you wish Niall. I appreciate you here, but, you can, of course, go with my blessing.”
She tied the belt around her waist. “Now then, let’s go find my mother’s helmet.”
Chapter Fifteen
Still in uniform, Niall led the way to the tower with Alys in tow. The rest of the festivities continued in the hall, for the music and laughter could be heard at some great distance. As they reached the entrance, two guards stood in front of the doorway.
They approached quietly.
“What’s wrong?” asked the soldier on the right.
“I’ve instructions to access the tower.”
The tall man’s voice was terse. “No one is permitted entry, not even the guards.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought.” Niall unsheathed his sword, and Alys followed his example. She went for the smaller soldier on the left, and took him by surprise, pinning him to the ground with her blade. She searched for some kind of rope to tie him up, and her eyes settled on the cord around the curtains. Niall understood, pushed his man down with the other one, reached across and grabbed the twine, tying the two men together.
Alys ripped her bell sleeves and used the fabric to gag their mouths.
Niall quirked his eyebrow.
“What? I didn’t like the dress, anyway.”
They hid the men just inside the doorway so as not to draw any undue attention.
“Won’t someone notice?” asked Alys.
“Aye, they might—so we best be quick about it.”
The endless flights of stone steps made her feel dizzy. In her excitement, she almost tripped on one of them, but caught herself in time. Her heart pounded harder as they climbed higher up, the wind from the small slit windows ever reminding them of the harsh cold elements outside. The first level plateaued into a small chamber, with no furniture. The only sign that the tower was in use, were the lit torches. Tapestries depicting warfare gilded the walls, and Alys shivered at the violent pictures.
“Come on,” said Niall, and took her hand in his. The stairs took them to three m
ore levels, all just as empty.
“Surely, we’d have found something by now. How many stories are there?”
Niall stared out the window and at the rest of the fortress. “I can’t remember, but I think we’ve at least one more.”
They continued, and Alys clung to the damp walls as they climbed further, until they ran out of stairs.
“This is it,” she said as they came to a doorway. She tried the handle. “It’s locked.” Panic rose within her. She examined the lock and its peculiar shape. “This doesn’t seem to be real. There is nowhere to place a key at all. Is it a decoy?” She glanced at Niall in frustration, he wasn’t even paying attention. “Niall?”
He ran his fingers across the doorpost. “Behold I stand at the door and knock,” he read.
“From the book of Revelation?” She closed her eyes to recall the passage. She remembered reading that Scripture as a girl. “If anyone listens to my voice and opens the door, I will come in.” Alys stared at the words. “It can’t be that simple.” With her hand shaking, she knocked on the door.
A shuffle came from inside the room, and the sound of the door being unbolted, and, lo-and-behold, it opened.
She gasped as they were greeted with a blade pointed at their necks. A man wearing a dark robe stood before them. He was well-aged in years, but appeared capable and strong.
He gazed at Niall, and then Alys, stared at her plate of armour then his eyes darted to her face.
She shivered under his scrutiny. “I am Alys, daughter of Queen Aloedia of Rivalyn. I have come in search of her sword.”
He blinked. “You believe it is here?” He pulled his weapon away and moved for them to enter the room.
She swallowed and took her eyes off him for a moment to glance around the chamber. Dismay filled her as they entered another empty level, except for a few furnishings.
Niall removed his helmet and rubbed a hand over his face. He walked into the room and stopped, folded his arms and studied the man before him. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice cold but calm.
The man sat down at a small table and chair; a pile of scrolls surrounded him. He picked up a quill and dipped in ink. “I am Girard, appointed by the monarchy to protect the crown with my life.”
She took a sharp intake of breath. “My mother’s?”
He lowered his head and continued to scrawl on his parchment.
“Do you know where it is?”
“I guard what I cannot see.” He motioned to the Bible in front of him. “That contains your answer, daughter of Aloedia.”
“It does?”
Her hand trembled, as she ran her fingers through the pages, but her mind went blank. The pressure was becoming too much for her. Why had her mother made this so difficult, so complicated? Was she chasing a ghost or a myth? Why was this man here, and why was he being so cryptic?
Niall placed his hand on her trembling ones. “He speaks of faith, Alys. Remember? When we were in the mountain, we spoke of this verse from Hebrews. ‘Now faith is the assurance that what we hope for will come about and the certainty that what we cannot see exists.’”
He turned to the page and showed her.
Did she believe in the Almighty? Aye. Did she have faith that she would find the sword? Aye. She believed it with all her heart.
But God? What am I supposed to do now? I am out of options...and I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. Please, please, help me.
She swiped at the tear that ran down the side of her cheek and studied Girard. “What are you writing?”
“Just words, words God gives me.”
“You are a prophet?”
He nodded.
“Then, why are you up here?”
He cast aside his quill and rose, cupping Alys’s face in his hands. “Waiting for you, child. I’ve been here since your mother asked me to be.”
It was a lot to take in. “But my mother passed over twenty years ago.”
“Aye, it’s given me plenty of time to write, I can assure you.”
“But why would she make such a request of you? Does Reginald know you are here?”
“He humours an old man’s whims. I am under house arrest, you understand.”
“For what cause?”
“Prophesying about his fall. Reginald is too scared to kill me, for what might happen to him. So, he keeps me up here, not knowing what to do with me. When he wants something, he’ll pay me a visit.”
“But...this room was locked from the inside.”
“Oh, the whole tower is at my disposal. I choose to stay up here, in the high places. Gives me more space to pray.”
“And my mother’s helmet is here?”
He smiled.
“Then why will you not give it to me?”
“Aloedia’s instructions were strict. I was merely to give you a message. ‘Set your sight on things above, not on things on the earth.’”
“On things above?” She glanced up at the ceiling. Gold, silver, bold blues and vibrant reds, infused into a cacophony of colour. The patterns so intricate, that pictures were within pictures. At first glance, it looked like an angelic army ascending from heaven. But as she examined more closely, each fragment was made up of individual people. Ordinary folk. Some carried swords, spears, bows and arrows. Others had pitchforks and everyday farming tools. Her gaze followed the scene from the people at the back of the army, right to the front. Then, she saw warriors, in grand uniforms and shining armour. Their shields formed a wall, their swords raised high. And there, in the front-line, were two people wearing royal armour.
Alys gasped. Was that her mother and father? It looked like the Rivalyn crest on the banner. “Niall, give me a lift.”
Niall picked her up, so she could sit on his shoulders. She reached up and touched the intricate painting. It must have taken him years to paint this. Her forefinger traced her mother’s figure. Out of the sword, came a bright light, like lightning, and it reached up to heaven. In front of them, were an army of bodies that lay dead on the ground. This must have been the Great Battle that her father had spoken of when she was a girl. It was from this that she’d heard of the signs and wonders that accompanied the power of the sword.
As she pressed on Aloedia’s crown, a crack sounded, and she gasped, pulling her hand back. Had she just broken the painting?
Niall held Alys tighter as part of the ceiling began to move, a cloud of dust descending upon them both. He spluttered at the dry taste in his mouth, quite in awe of what had just happened. There was another level after all?
There was no ladder or rope to pull, so he dragged the prophet’s table over and used it to help himself up.
“Let me,” he warned Alys before she got any wild ideas. The last time she went first, they ended up nearly drowning. And he didn’t care to do that again in a hurry.
“What is it?”
Niall pulled himself up and held out his arm for Alys. “See for yourself.”
Alys needed little help from him, her physique was light, and she had remarkable strength in her arms. Her mouth dropped open at the sight.
Here all this time, was Aloedia’s helmet, the same silvery colour that matched the armour. Above the visor, sat a thin, gold crown. To the front was the Rivalyn crest, with a blue sapphire in the centre. Around the edge of the circlet, was yet another inscription.
“What does it say?” Alys asked, her hands trembling.
Niall twisted the helmet round. The writing was tiny. “Divine power... Destroys strongholds. Mmmh, it refers to the second Corinthian letter. ‘For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds.’” Until now, he had doubted the power that could be harnessed from the sword, but, with a reference like this? Could it be possible?
Alys placed the helmet upon her head and tied the leather strap underneath her chin. She exhaled through pursed lips. “This was my mothers,” she said, her voice unsteady. The helmet fitted her well, and he blinked as the crown glistened
through the sunlight. She was ready to rule her country. Now all they had to do, was find the sword, or else this would all be for naught.
Niall assisted her down from the roof.
“Come with us,” she said to Girard. “No one is guarding the tower, and you’ll be in danger if they discover you’ve helped us.”
He shook his head. “My time will come, but ’tis not now. I will be here, praying for you both.” He held their hands as if they were about to wed. Alys’s face turned pink.
Niall cleared his throat. “Alys, we must go.”
The journey down the steps was far easier than on their way up, and the guards were still tied up where they’d left them. He glanced at Alys, in her breastplate, helmet, and ripped sleeves. She did look ready to go to war.
Chapter Sixteen
Niall stood at the doorway. “Where are all the guards?”
Alys frowned. Something was wrong. “I know not. I wonder if Reginald is still in the hall.”
“I don’t want to stick around to find out.”
She rubbed her temples, as her head began to itch behind the tightness of the helmet. “You are still in disguise and stand a greater chance at getting close to my father without causing suspicion. His chamber is the one next to mine. Go to him now and meet me in the courtyard.”
“Dressed like that—you’ll attract too much attention.”
“That is what I am hoping—you’ll be able to get Father out far easier.”
He sighed. “Very well.” He took her hands in his and stared at her. “Come back to me, Alys.”
Her eyes glistened. “I will.”
She swallowed the rising sob that threatened to take over and ran quietly down the corridor. She avoided the hall and took a side entrance out into the yard.
The wind took her breath away as she charged ahead, and her shield caught the moonlight, its presence commanding attention. Out of nowhere, a circle of riders on horses carrying torches surrounded her. Reginald came forward.
“What do you want from me?” Alys shouted.
“Your father claims you are the true ruler of Rivalyn.” Reginald tutted. “That makes you a liability and you cannot leave this fortress.”