The Four Tales

by Rebecca Reddell

  “Yes, mama,” Cassie replied.

  However, she remained and waved until she could see neither man any longer. Her arm ached from the movement and leftover tenderness from the fall.

  Still, she stayed rooted to the spot, praying for their safe return. Her heart held a strange emptiness, a pain she couldn’t describe even to herself. Rubbing her hand against her chest, she hugged her arms around herself.

  “Please be safe,” she whispered. “Please come back to me.”

  8

  Castle Dalry

  “I knew you would be in here,” Queen Arlyn said and stepped in with the puppy, Beau, in her arms. “Has the council or Atkins given you any reason to hope?”

  Sighing again, King Tritium glanced up as the door opened and interrupted his endless speculations. “I'm afraid they don't know what to do that hasn't already been done. They are working to find her whereabouts, but until she makes a move, we are all to be left in suspense. The council has set many proposals in option of war before King Ammandon, but he refuses to acknowledge any of them.”

  Sinking in a chair across from his desk, Queen Arlyn watched as he shook his head at her.

  “Now, King Ammandon speaks of his own secret weapon,” King Tritium sighed.

  “So, our options are limited,” Queen Arlyn stated. “We either turn the border land over to him or go to war?”

  Nodding, King Tritium stood and came around the desk. He kissed the top of his wife's head and rubbed Beau's ear. Queen Arlyn smiled up at him and reached for his hand.

  “Everything will be well, my dear. King Ammandon will be made to see reason. I know you chose to keep our son away, but perhaps we should bring him home? He will not like being left out of this, and he has trained for this possibility.”

  King Tritium nodded. “I suppose you make a point. With the unknown of the witch, however, I don't know how wise it would be to bring him home.”

  “I know this point has been much on your mind. You wouldn't want Simon to be in harm's way, but if something were to happen to us, he would have to take over. We must not allow him to be taken unaware or suspect we are trying to baby him.”

  Placing her hand over her husband’s, Queen Arlyn straightened. “You know how opposed young men are at being kept in the dark. Besides, I would feel better if he was here with us. Call it maternal whim, but I wish for him to return. I think it would really be for the best.”

  King Tritium considered his wife's words and nodded.

  “You have made a very intelligent argument, my dear. I will see to it at once. Since this war is going to happen despite my efforts otherwise, King Iver would be the very man to consult. We may need to call upon all our allies before this ends. I had hoped--” he broke off.

  “I know, my dear,” Queen Arlyn responded and squeezed his hand. “I have been praying for a reprieve myself. We must make the best decisions possible for our kingdom.”

  “Of course,” King Tritium agreed.

  “We will deal with the witch when she reveals her hand to us. For now, we must concentrate on how to deal with this ridiculous business concerning King Ammandon. Did he state his reasoning for this absurd claim?”

  “No,” King Tritium shook his head. “It has come out of nowhere. His preposterous assertions that our land belongs to him can only hide another purpose. That is the only answer at which I can arrive. I've even been sitting here formulating ideas of the witch's and Ammandon's connection to each other.”

  “You don't really think he would be in league with her?”

  “I hate thinking he would be, but it doesn’t seem coincidental they both sent me threatening messages at the same time. Can it really be isolated?”

  The king shrugged as Queen Arlyn puzzled over the proposal. Her head tilted toward him as he settled on the edge of his desk.

  “I don't know, Tritium. I just don't know. It would make sense, but how does Ammandon know her? Why would he work with her?”

  “She must have offered him something he couldn't pass up — if it's true. I will bring it up with the council when they get here this afternoon. The Scholars are working on every countermand we can make against the witch. I just hope they can find something soon.”

  “As do I. Atkins mentioned to me that your soldiers are preparing for the worst.”

  King Tritium nodded. “We have to expect the worst since nothing has appeased King Ammandon yet. The sign-up camps have been set up. You’d be surprised the number of people who have showed up.”

  “Men and women from every nook and cranny, I suspect.” Queen Arlyn smiled up at him.

  “Indeed. Your parents have already sent a missive informing me that the eastern kingdom is ready to support us.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes as Queen Arlyn smiled and nodded. “I would expect no less. Perhaps King Ammandon will reconsider when he knows he will have to face all three kingdoms?”

  Rubbing his chin, the king nodded. “There is that possibility. Of course, if he has magic on his side, he might not be too worried about three kingdoms.”

  “I was trying to be positive, Tritium. I don’t want anyone to go to war. This world has suffered enough as it is.”

  “My dear, I don’t want to go to war either. It isn’t just up to me, and as I mentioned, if King Ammandon is in collusion with the witch there won’t be a choice. They could have the means to destroy our world.”

  Sighing, Queen Arlyn shook her head. “Where did she come across this magic? Everything we had on witchcraft has been locked up for years.”

  “I don’t know,” King Tritium paced beside his desk. “I wish I knew more, but I don’t. No one seems to know anything about her.”

  A gurgle erupted from his stomach, and the king’s face reddened.

  “I will go make sure the cook has everything prepared for your luncheon, dear,” Queen Arlyn told him with a smile. “You can’t get things accomplished on an empty stomach.”

  “Of course,” the king responded with a chuckle. “I haven’t felt hungry since this knowledge came to our doorstep, but you are right, as always.”

  “I’ll continue to pray we receive an answer to our worries. Will you write King Iver?”

  “Yes, I’ll write him again. Thank you, Arlyn. You have helped me greatly.”

  “I don't know how,” Queen Arlyn contradicted as he helped her stand. Shifting Beau in her arms, she leaned forward to kiss her husband's cheek. “All will be well, Tritium. I am sure of it.”

  As he escorted her to the door, Rupert entered abruptly with Atkins on his heels. King Tritium and Queen Arlyn stopped their advance with wide eyes.

  “Rupert? Atkins? What is the matter?” King Tritium was the one to ask.

  “He's gone!” the voice of the adviser growled.

  Rupert and Adviser Atkins entered the inner sanctum of their king with quick steps and shut the doors after making this announcement. Rupert looked back and forth between the adviser to the king and queen. Their mouths dropped open, but no sound escaped from either.

  Tall, thin, and regal, King Tritium brows furrowed low over his darkening eyes and gritted teeth. His face started to turn a pinkish-purple color, and his lips were so tight they looked white. Queen Arlyn's face lost all color, her grip causing the pup to squeal.

  “Gone? Who's gone?” King Tritium asked, even though he knew the answer.

  Queen Arlyn wrapped and tightened her hand on Tritium's arm and stared desperately at Atkins. She willed him to say anything other than the words she suspected he would say.

  “Prince Simon. He's gone.”

  9

  Three Months Later

  Well, this was a predicament, Simon couldn't help but think as he surveyed the area. Scouting the nearby woods for the enemy before they’d set up camp was a great idea. That is, if there was no enemy to find.

  It really is in bad form when there is, Simon sighed.

  Two grizzled men with a deadly assortment of knives on their persons were not what he had hoped to fi
nd. This was, at least, the third time Simon had seen a pair of men, instead of groups or a battalion's worth, combing the land. Although it held him curious why they were traveling in pairs, he had to focus on the task at hand.

  I really need to think these things through more, Simon shook his head as he took up his own weapons and whistled for back-up.

  “Any chance you two want to leave here alive?” Simon offered.

  The two men advanced around him, hoping to split the kill and confuse him. Thanks to his trainers, Simon knew this trick well. His mentors, all of which had been trained as assassins, had taught him every possible way of getting out of something like this.

  “You realize I’m not as weak as I appear?” he continued to talk, watching them.

  Which tactic to use was the only question, he pondered as they slowly advanced. Duck and roll? Right, then left? Double throw? He named the options off.

  Of course, some of them had pretty names, but he preferred to think of them in terms of what he'd do and not what they should be appropriately called.

  “We should really talk about this. You know there are three kingdoms against your one kingdom? Right?” Simon knew his grandparent’s and King Iver’s kingdoms had joined with his father’s forces.

  “We could call a truce? I’m sure we could laugh about this in front of a campfire? What do you say?” he tried one last time.

  Duck and roll it is, he thought just before the men came screaming his way with weapons hoisted in the air.

  His body dropped, rolled a few feet out to confuse them, then he jumped up onto slightly shaky legs, rotated and threw both knifes into their chests. They dropped to the ground with stunned expressions on their faces.

  “Well done!” Alasdair, as Simon had taken to calling him, shouted as he came from the right side.

  “I think I'm catching on.” Simon smiled back at him and searched their pockets.

  “You do catch on quickly. I'm glad I was around to see that, my boy. I'm sorry I wasn't faster though. Timmons wanted us to look on the other side as well. I was halfway there when I heard you whistle.”

  Alasdair helped him finish searching the bodies. They found nothing of importance except a few coins and handkerchiefs.

  “Why did you start off this way by yourself?” Alasdair asked him.

  Simon shrugged. “Fresh air?”

  Looking up at him for a moment, Alasdair didn’t question him further. “Let's gather these knives as well. Better than leaving them for someone else,” Alasdair suggested instead and began collecting all visible weapons.

  So far, no one had recognized Simon. Not even the enemy. They had been at battle for one of the three months now after their short training. Many had already died.

  A truce had yet to be called, and King Ammandon sent men after men to fight. Simon wished he was still at the palace hearing news firsthand. It was difficult not being able to hear what transpired between the kings before an abbreviated or exaggerated version made its way down the ranks.

  “So, do you think the rumor that King Ammandon has a powerful weapon up his sleeve that will slaughter us all is truth or fiction?” Simon asked as he pulled out his knives, wiped the blades clean, and replaced them in his belt.

  “I don’t know, Simon. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of this weapon. What do you think?”

  Simon shrugged. “The men are whispering about magic. You don’t think that’s possible, do you? We haven’t seen anything remotely resembling magic since the last war.”

  “It was taken away because of the last war. Although, if you recall, there was one incident involving magic about twenty-odd years back.”

  “You mean, the night the king and queen became engaged? The flash of light?” Simon stood back and considered the bodies before him.

  “We should bury them, so no one spots them right away, and so they won't be found by the wood beasts,” Alasdair suggested, and Simon nodded.

  His question remained unanswered when the rest of the men came to assist in the fight but ended up helping to bury the enemy instead. Once the job was finished, they completed their camp for the night.

  At least thirty were left from the last battle, and they were making their way to the main camp to refuel and regroup.

  The few groups that had been sent out to gather intel were to report back as soon as possible. They were a few weeks behind with all the opposition they had faced. So many of King Ammandon's men were swarming over the land.

  Food was cooked on an open fire and passed around the group. As they gathered around the campfire, guards posted, Simon sat back to hear what the others had to offer and held his own questions.

  “The rumors are spreading about King Ammandon's secret weapon,” Timmons reported to them. “However, I think we'll find it is only a tactic. If he had such a weapon, King Ammandon would not be sending men to scout our land and infiltrate its borders.”

  “Aye!” several men agreed.

  “I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss these rumors,” Delano interjected.

  The men quieted and turned to look at him with resentment. He ignored their glances. Instead, he continued with his story. “Perhaps you have forgotten the legend?”

  An ominous feeling rippled through the men, and resettling could be heard around the camp. Everyone knew about the legend. Many scoffed the old tale, but even they were afraid of its possible truths.

  “We know the legend, Delano. No need to recount that fairytale,” Conroy, a neighbor of Alasdair's, growled.

  “No, you don't.” It was clear Delano was going to tell this story whether the men wanted to hear it or not. “My family knows it. I've heard it passed down from my grandfather. He was the blacksmith who saw the light.”

  This made everyone pause. It wasn't often an ancestor of those directly connected was telling the story, and it was his grandfather. A few men sat up, their eyes trained on Delano now, and even Timmons sat back and awaited the narration of their very own scary story.

  “Dalry has always been a happy kingdom,” Delano's voice grumbled out.

  Simon, who had heard the fairy tale since birth, felt as if a master was speaking. He, too, sat forward and waited to hear what in this narrative would be different from what he'd grown up hearing. Especially since it also involved his parents.

  “The last war devastated the land. Continents were lost, and people were fearful and distrusting. No one knew who to believe about the future. It was a bloody time and millions died.”

  “We know this, Delano!” a voice called out in the crowding men.

  Delano ignored him and continued, “The remainder of people decided they couldn’t go on without a leader, but they were uncertain whom to trust. Several thought they were better off without a leader, but a group made a convincing argument about too many cooks in the kitchen.”

  “Delano! Forget the analogies!” another voice shouted.

  Grunting, Delano glared in the direction of this last directive. “You all know what I mean. Those who had survived wanted stability. They decided to elect those who would be in charge from the men who had protected them. It was considered a presidential election of sorts, but no one considered naming the new leaders as such and fell back on calling them kings and queens.”

  Taking a deep breath, Delano paused and looked around the group. “They named Queen Aileen of Dalry, Queen Evelyn of the east’s Kingdom of Aisling, Queen Analise of the west’s Kingdom of Darragh, and Queen Bria of the south’s Kingdom of Avery. These women were reliable. They’d saved lives, and the people were ready for women to oversee the world for a change.”

  “It didn’t last,” a voice to the left spoke in the pause. Several grunted and nodded their heads.

  “It wasn’t meant to last forever. One day these women would get married and continue their reign through their children. It stood to reason some of those children would be male. However, they married between the kingdoms to keep peace and prosperity. Women were still in charge, but now they were joint
owners of a land they were sworn to protect.”

  “Except we now have a king in charge who wants to disrupt our peace!” another yelled.

  Several nodded around the group. A few broke out into side whispers, and Delano frowned.

  “Women are still in charge,” Alasdair commented. “Otherwise we might not have had the peace we’ve maintained for so long.”

  “Well, we can’t forget the reason for this story,” Conroy countered. “It’s about a woman who was scorned and by a prince of our kingdom!”

  “Would we really want our king to have married her?” Alasdair argued. “She was obviously a left-over witch from the war. What kind of peace would we have had with her?”

  “He should have thought of that sooner!” Conroy muttered.

  “He was a boy,” Alasdair defended the king. “No one likes to be told what to do and who they’re going to marry when they’re young. Anyone would have argued at his age. You would have!”

  Conroy glared and snarled, “Our ancestors didn’t set them as our protectors for them to belittle the honor. We believed in them to keep us safe. They can’t be like everyone else!”

  “They’re human, Conroy,” Alasdair countered. “None of their descendants asked for the role. It was placed upon them at birth. Take it easy on them.”

  “Enough, Alasdair!” Conroy grunted. “I don’t need a lesson on the royalty.”

  “You need a lesson on respect. No one’s perfect. We’ve been happy for several years, and there’s no sense to complain now. We’re safe, fed, and cared for in this kingdom. Don’t forget it.”

  Delano interrupted, “Tis true. We’ve been protected for decades, Conroy. We’ve been blessed with our leaders. Each queen and king has had their own wisdom. This wisdom and kindness has been passed down from every generation.”

  He looked around the camp and met everyone’s eyes. “No man, woman, or child has ever had cause to hate the queen, king, or any of their descendants. Except one.”