Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Of course, not m'Lord," his captain bowed, a picture of humility.

  Their trip to the palace was uneventful, the guards manning the portcullis passing them through into the Circle of the King without delay. Leaving Eaudreuil and Azaria in the care of two young grooms, the pair made their way through Illroc Adar and soon arrived at the royal smithy where a huge, muscle bound apprentice guarded closed doors.

  "Is your master within?" Jack asked.

  "Yes, your grace," the apprentice replied, recognizing him from his earlier visit. "But he is busy at the moment."

  "He'll see me I think."

  "Of course, your grace," the smith bowed, knowing the special project the royal armorer labored upon had been commissioned by the new duke.

  "Wait here Kirk," Jack said to the young captain as the apprentice opened the door for him. "I want to speak with Sennaca alone."

  Vanar was obviously confused by the command, but he’d defied his lord once already this morning, and acquiesced with a wordless nod.

  Jack entered the dimly lit smithy and stepped straight into the third vision of his Elohara. The fires of the huge forge had been only recently banked for the room was still dreadfully hot. Sennaca was seated in a far corner, his back to Braedan, beads of sweat glistening on his ropy muscles in the low light. Behind the old man stood a wooden mannequin, outfitted in a suit of three-quarter plate armor, finished in a light blue lacquer the color of an early summer sky. It wasn’t some ponderous tin bucket long ago medieval knights were famous for in the world he’d left behind, but sleek, form-fitting plates connected by leather straps and bindings more reminiscent of a big, budget, science fiction space opera. Standing beside it was another mannequin draped in Ithlemere scale. In the ruddy glow of the coals, the coat appeared to be covered with blood. The smith was busy polishing his latest work with a soft cloth, but when he sensed someone had entered the room he stopped working and turned, an angry retort forming on his lips. Until he recognized his visitor.

  "It is ready m'Lord," the master smith announced, falling quickly to one knee.

  "Show me," Jack commanded.

  Exactly as he had done before in the Elohara, the smith stood and presented a rectangular shield roughly three feet in length. It had been finished in the same sky-blue lacquer as the suit of armor. On the shield's face was a flaming sword and in the upper right corner was a three-pointed crown of gold set with diamonds.

  "You have done well Master Sennaca," Jack smiled.

  "Would you care to try the armor for fit m'Lord?" the smith asked.

  "There is no need. I trust the skill of the greatest armorer in Aralon."

  "Thank you...highness," the old man bowed.

  "Are the coverings ready as well?"

  "They are," the smith replied. Setting aside the beautiful shield, he went to his worktable and retrieved two leather coverings. On one was depicted the Golden Lion crest of Thonbor and on the other was a picture of an uprooted young oak tree. Jack smiled with ironic approval at the second, which he planned to use to conceal his shield at Ljmarn Haelfest. He doubted anyone at the festival on this world would recognize it as the one carried by the disinherited Saxon prince in the epic tale of Ivanhoe.

  "They are fine as well," Jack announced, and reached into the pocket of his vest for his purse of coins.

  "Nay m'Lord!" Sennaca objected, as Braedan began counting out gold Th'rakkens. "I cannot accept payment for this."

  "I insist," Jack pressed ten shining coins into his callused hand. "For completing them on such short notice."

  "If you wish m'Lord," the smith bowed, "but I shall keep them as heirlooms. They will be a treasure of my household for generations to come."

  "I'd rather you spent them on tobacco for your pipe," Jack laughed.

  "If you wish m'Lord," the old man nodded again, "but I will keep one at least, to bring out and show my grandchildren when I sit and smoke beside a warm fire in my retirement."

  "I hope it will be many years from now Master Sennaca."

  "Nay Lord," the old man said. "Your armor is the last and greatest work these hands shall ever produce. The armor of the Heir of Ljmarn Bra‘Adan will stand as my legacy."

  "I am honored," Jack bowed. "Will you have them delivered to Count Arthol's for me?"

  "I will personally see they arrive before you depart for Elvendale," the smith assured him.

  "Thank you," Jack bowed again. "I wish you a good life Master Sennaca."

  "May the Creator guide your path and...and speed you on your sacred quest," the old man stammered, dropping to his knees once more as Braedan turned and exited the smithy.

  "Was the armor to your liking your grace?" Vanar asked as Jack rejoined him outside the royal foundry.

  "It was indeed," Jack nodded.

  "Where to now?"

  "I'm going to pay a visit to Princess Thessa," Jack replied. "I haven't seen her in a week. She probably thinks I've abandoned her."

  "I still have a few things remaining at my old room in the barracks." Kirk and his squad had been quartering at the Arthol estate since the incident in Sir Algeron's maze and the revelation of Valarius' treachery. "If you don't mind, I really should clear them out before we leave for Ail'itharain. If I wait until after we return, I might find they have been well...redistributed."

  "Not at all," Jack nodded, remembering how unattended items in a military barracks were not allowed to lie around unused for long. "Meet me at Princess Thessa's quarters when you are done."

  Once back inside the palace, Braedan stopped the first servant he happened upon, a pretty chambermaid with honey colored hair and doe brown eyes, and asked directions to the princess' room, guessing she would probably still be confined to her bed after falling ill the night before. The young maid promptly forgot all about the task she had been performing and insisted on escorting him. Not being familiar with the layout of the palace, he happily accepted her offer of assistance.

  Jack was soon glad to have her as his guide, for he quickly became lost in the twisting corridors of the enormous palace of the Dragonslayer. The pleasant sway of the young woman's hips as she walked before him though the confusing passageways also provided a pleasant diversion, and in no time it seemed, she was stopping before a pair of double doors and announcing their arrival at the princess' quarters.

  "Thank you..."

  "Jeanette your grace," the young woman smiled, curtsying.

  "Thank you, Jeanette."

  "If m'Lord desires," she said huskily, batting long lashes. "I can wait for thee? Should thou need any further...assistance once you are finished visiting with the princess."

  "That won't be necessary Jeanette," he answered quickly.

  "As m'Lord wishes," she sighed.

  As he watcher they young maid retreat down the corridor, Jack realized being a bachelor duke was going to be a difficult job.

  "Who is it?" asked someone from within, when Jack knocked on the princess' door.

  "It’s Jack," he answered. "Come to check on my favorite princess."

  "Show him in," Thessa instruct his questioner happily.

  The door was soon opened and another pretty young servant stepped aside to let him enter. Thessa was sitting in a comfortable chair beside an open window, wrapped in a soft, down filled blanket. At her feet were three more of her attendants doing delicate needle point. A joyous smile brightened the young princess' face as he walked into the room.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked, leaning over to kiss Thessa lightly on the cheek.

  "Much better thank you," Thessa replied. "Leave us please," she commanded her attendants. "I wish to be alone with my champion." The four women nodded demurely, leaving them to their privacy.

  "Am I glad they are finally gone," the princess sighed, "I have not had a moment alone since yesterday morning."

  "They are only worried about you my princess," Jack said, pulling up a chair next to her.

  "I know. But they can be quite bothersome. To what do own this honor
? Favorite indeed! You have be absent from the palace for a week now," the princes asked in an accusatory tone.

  "Why you of course," Jack replied. "And...I needed to check with Master Sennaca about my armor."

  "I thought there was some other reason. You do no love me anymore," she pouted.

  "Thessa! How can you say such a thing?" Jack cried. "I have also been confined to my room by the good Doctor Gallon. I finally escaped this morning and came straight here."

  "Then you were not shopping at the Circle of Wares yesterday as I have heard?" she asked.

  "Well..."

  "Do not try and deceive me my champion," she smiled. "Nothing happens on the streets of Brythond which is not known in the palace within an hour."

  "Will you be well enough to attend the ball at Ambassador Thongril's tomorrow evening?" Jack asked, changing the subject.

  "I would not miss it for the world," Thessa replied. "Since it may be my last chance to see you before you depart for Ail'itharain."

  "You won't be coming?"

  "No," she replied sadly. "Doctor Gallon feels it would be best for me not to travel overly much until the baby comes."

  "But you'll be going to Ljmarn Haelfest won't you?"

  "Of course, my champion," Thessa smiled. "Nothing could keep me from seeing you compete in the Competition of the Sword. Though I am still not convinced it is the best way to deal with the traitor Kiathan."

  They talked on for several more minutes on trivial matters until Thessa finally asked him how his study of the Prophecies of Aaracus was progressing, informing him Thonicil thought he was close to discovering the identity of the lost Heir of Bra ‘Adan.

  "Oh?" Jack asked slowly. "Perhaps I should speak with him before I leave."

  "He is not here," the princess replied. "He left this morning for the Abbey of St. Sheridan to investigate some old manuscript the good brothers are rumored to possess. You can speak with him tomorrow at the Ambassador's. Perhaps he will have some new piece of information to share with you."

  "Perhaps."

  Further discussion about the prince's search for the missing heir was interrupted when a knock sounded at Thessa's door. Jack rose to admit the caller and found Kirk Vanar waiting outside.

  "Anything left?" Jack asked as the captain entered.

  "A few items were still there." Kirk grinned.

  "Captain Vanar, attend me." Thessa commanded. .

  "My princess?" Kirk replied at once.

  "Kneel!"

  "Captain Vanar," she began as Kirk fell quickly to one knee before her, "word has reached me you are courting Gweneveare de'Aabran?"

  "Yes, your highness," Kirk replied warily.

  The princess studied the kneeling soldier for several long, agonizing seconds. "Give me your hands captain," she said finally. He quickly complied, placing his hands in the small, delicate palms of the young woman. "You will do everything in your power to ensure her happiness," she ordered, holding him with a steely gaze. "Gweneveare is my dearest friend and I will not have her sweet heart broken by some randy legionnaire only after a frivolous dalliance."

  "My intentions are strictly honorable princess!" Vanar assured her.

  Thessa held his gaze for several more seconds, then a glorious smile slowly formed upon her lips. "Then I shall do everything within my power to assist your suit. Gwen has been alone far too long. It is past time she found a suitor worthy of her."

  "Thank you, highness," Captain Vanar grinned, blushing furiously.

  "On one condition," Thessa added.

  "Highness?"

  "You are accompanying Jack to Ail'itharain?"

  "Yes highness," the captain nodded, glancing smugly at Braedan. "Of course."

  "Then you will ensure he arrives safely in Elvendale. And when his business with the Ailfar is completed, see he reaches Immer unharmed in time for Ljmarn Haelfest. He means to be the next Swordmaster of Aralon and I charge you with seeing he has his day on the Field of Honor."

  "I will not fail thee highness," Captain Vanar vowed.

  "Then neither will I fail thee," she smiled.

  "So let it be written. So let it be done," Jack grinned, leaning over to kiss Thessa on the cheek once more. "I've got to do some packing. See you tomorrow night."

  "Would you be so kind as to send my attendants back to me?" Thessa smiled sweetly, "I think I would like to take a bath now."

  "Of course, my princess," Jack replied. "I live but to serve you."

  “Liar,” Thessa smiled. “You live for the day you see your true favorite princess, again.”

  “That too,” Jack winked.

  "Good day Captain Vanar," the princess said, inclining her head to the now standing guardsman.

  "Princess," he bowed deeply.

  When Braedan and Vanar returned to Count Arthol's estate sometime later, Jack was somewhat surprised to find Richard de'Bracy waiting anxiously for him in his suite. The young man was just about bursting with excitement over the investments he'd made for his new employer, and could not wait to begin recounting how he had budgeted each Th'rakken, down to the last half copper. Braedan sat politely for the next hour as his accountant briefed him in detail, nodding and smiling his approval at the growing list of investments.

  "Diversity. That's the key your grace," Richard informed him, as if imparting some great secret. "Now if you'll look at these reports..."

  "I'm sure they are all in order Richard," Jack interrupted. "I trust you completely. Now why don't you take the rest of the day off? You earned it."

  "Thank you, your grace," the young man beamed happily, "I really do not have the time. I am off to Thondil to have a look at a shipment of spices arriving from Corina. I shall give you a full report when I return at the end of the week."

  "That may be hard to do," Jack said. "I'm leaving for Ail'itharain tomorrow and from there I'll be going to Immer for Ljmarn Haelfest. You can give your reports to Count Arthol. He will forward them to me if you wish."

  "Very well your grace," de'Bracy sighed, a bit disappointed.

  "Take whatever you think is needed for expenses," Jack added. "And don't skimp. Stay at the best inns. See the sights. Enjoy yourself. Just keep the receipts."

  "Thank you, your grace," the young man smiled, brightening.

  "That man is going to make you filthy rich m'Lord," Vanar laughed when the enthusiastic accountant had gathered up his reports and departed.

  "It certainly seems so, doesn't it?" Braedan replied with a grin. "I think I'll give him a raise when I see him again."

  Jack spent most of the next morning going through his new wardrobe, recently delivered by his tailor, deciding what he would wear to the ball at Ambassador Thongril's this evening. Gweneveare soon arrived to offer her advice, flatly refusing to allow him to wear anything even remotely resembling the hunting clothes he was so fond of. After a long, sometimes heated debate they compromised on a loose-fitting silk doublet of brilliant azure with the crest of Thonbor sewn above his heart, dove gray trousers, and knee boots crafted of soft black leather.

  After he had dressed in the chosen outfit, Gweneveare inspected him from head to toe. "You will break many hearts tonight Jack Braedan," she announced, smiling her approval. "Only take care it is all you do."

  "You never let me have any fun Gwen," he teased. "What will you be wearing to this evening's affair?"

  “Your grace…,” she said hesitantly, “I do appreciate your kindness to me, and I was pleased by the invitation, but you do not have to use your…position to include me in social to social. I am no one special. Thessa is my friend but I am still just a servant in her fathers’ house.”

  “Don’t you ever say something like that again,” Jack insisted, taking her hand. “Gwen, you are special. You are my friend. Therion asked if there anyone I might wish to invite. He was delighted to include you. No one who knows you thinks of you as just a servant.”

  “Thank you,” Gwen smiled, her blue eyes misting.

  “I’m grooming Kirk
for bigger things,” Jack grinned. “I can’t very well have the future Sir Kirk Vanar using the wrong fork when I host formal gatherings in Thonbor. Who better to be at his side coaching him than the Lady de’Araban? And if I don’t drag you along to these sort of things, who is going to keep me out of trouble?”

  “You are both still a bit rough around the edges,” Gweneveare admitted playfully.

  “Agreed,” Jack laughed. “Now, about your dress? I trust it will be something stunning? You wouldn't want Kirk to forget about you while he's off in Ail'itharain surrounded by beautiful, golden haired elf maids."

  "He will not forget," Gweneveare said, blushing furiously. "Thessa assisted me in selecting something…suitable the moment I told her of my invitation."

  "I can hardly wait to see it," Jack laughed. "Just don't give the poor boy a heart attack. I will be needing him tomorrow."

  "The condition of Kirk’s heart is beyond my sway, your grace," she replied, smiling innocently.

  “That, Lady de’Araban, is a bald face lie,” he replied. “And you know it.”

  When evening arrived and it came time for them to leave for the ball, Jack and Captain Vanar met with Count Arthol on the front steps of the estate's portico. A resplendent carriage drawn by six black stallions and driven by Nicolas, who stood ready and waiting for them on the edge of the villa's circular drive. Vanar was wearing his formal dress uniform, freshly pressed and sporting his newly minted captain's rank and a chest full of colorful medals. Despite the coolness of the evening, a thin sheen of perspiration beaded his forehead and his feet nervously as they waited for Gweneveare.

  "Just like prom night, eh Kirk?" Jack remarked with an amused grin.

  "Prom night your grace?" the captain asked.

  "Never mind."

  "Ah..." Count Arthol smiled. "Here she comes now. Oh my," he finished softly.

  Framed in the light of the open doorway, Gweneveare looked like a vision from a lonely soldier's dream. Her beautiful black hair had been combed to a lustrous sheen, and about her slender throat was a delicate strand of black pearls. She was wearing a tight-fitting burgundy gown of silk, which clung seductively to every curve of her youthful body. The gown, slit up one side, revealed an enticing flash of long, muscular leg with each step she took towards them.