Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Absolutely stunning my dear," Count Arthol said, moving to offer her his arm.

  "Thank you m'Lord," she smiled, glancing furtively at her escort for the evening. When no similar compliment was immediately forthcoming from the speechless young captain, Jack elbowed the hopelessly stricken man sharply in the ribs.

  "Lady de'Aabran," he said stammered, then recovered his wits sufficiently enough to bow deeply.

  "Captain Vanar," she replied with a satisfied smile. "You look...dashing this evening."

  "Thank you, lady," he replied.

  "If fact," the young woman laughed, "I think I have honor of being escorted by the three most handsome men in all of Brythond this night."

  "The lady has taste as well as looks," Jack grinned as he took her other arm. "Shall we be off?"

  "By all means, your grace," she agreed.

  "Try and be a little quicker next time," Jack muttered out the side of his mouth as they swept by Captain Vanar and headed for the carriage.

  A smiling Nicolas placed a velvet trimmed foot stool before the carriage, and stepped aside with a sweeping bow. Gweneveare gave her beaming father a quick peck on the cheek then allowed him to assist her inside. Captain Vanar followed as soon as she was seated, stepping nimbly by Braedan with a playfully wink as if to say, 'How's that for quicker?' Grinning with approval, Jack motioned for Count Arthol to go before him, then took the last remaining seat. Nicolas closed the door behind him, then assumed his place at the front of the coach. With a flick of the reigns, they were on their way.

  The trip to the ambassador's home took only minutes, Ian being a virtual neighbor to the count. Yet even having to travel so short a distance, they were not the first to arrive. Several carriages similar to the one in which they were riding were already parked before the estate. There was little doubt a celebration was planned for the evening, the entire grounds were brightly lit with lanterns of blue and white and green, and every window ledge was decorated with festive buntings. At the far end of the open courtyard facing the villa, a canvas pavilion had been erected and seated beneath it were minstrels playing a lively tune to the enjoyment of a large crowd gathered around them.

  Vanar quickly dismounted when their coach came to a stop, not even waiting for Nicolas to bring his footstool, and offered Gweneveare his arm.

  "Looks like the party started without us," Jack remarked as he stepped down to join them.

  "If I know Ian," Count Arthol remarked with a grin, "it has probably been going on for some time. Come children, we'd better hurry along or we will miss out on the best wine."

  Count Arthol led the way and was met by shouts of happy greeting from several of the guests, which the count answered with good natured jests and hearty handshakes. A servant appeared before them as if by magic, bearing a silver tray of delicate crystal goblets, accompanied by another carrying a chilled bottled of dark red wine.

  Jack accepted his drink with a nod of thanks, surveying the sea of faces around him. He soon spotted Baroness Natrina Cailin. When the beautiful young widow saw him, she excused herself and headed for him with a seductive smile on her lips, only to stop suddenly in her tracks, her face growing deathly pale. The baroness quickly did an about face and began making her way to the other side of the courtyard, as if suddenly remembering a pressing engagement for which she was dreadfully late. Confused, Jack glanced over his shoulder to find Gweneveare trying unsuccessfully to mask the scowl darkening her youthful features.

  "Withdraw you claws dear," Count Arthol laughed. "She won't bother him now that she knows you're here. Shall we mingle?"

  For the next half hour Jack was surrounded by passing earls and viscounts and margraves and various other dignitaries of the realm. It soon grew into a repeat performance of his reception at the palace, with names and faces blurring into one long, confusing jumble. Jack was working on his third glass of the strong red wine, and thinking seriously about slipping off to find a dark corner to hide, when everyone's attention was suddenly drawn by a loud voice crying from the steps of the estate's villa. Ambassador Thongril was shouting to make himself heard above the revelers.

  "Friends!" he cried. "Honored Guests! Welcome! Welcome all! Tonight, is a night for celebration!"

  A lusty cheer erupted from the gathered crowd.

  "The table is set!" he continued when the cheers had died. "If you will begin making your way to the dining hall, we will commence with the seating! Again, I thank you all for joining me on this joyous occasion. And now...to the feast!"

  After another stupendous cheer, the guests began filing inside.

  Three long tables have been set in the banquet hall and the guest began to take their places, guided to their appointed seats by an army of helpful servants. Jack soon found himself separated from Count Arthol, as well as Gweneveare and Captain Vanar, and shown to a place at the center table near its head. On his left was a young nobleman with a decidedly superior air who he found instantly distasteful and on his right was a re-tired army officer of advancing years. When everyone had been shown to their assigned place, Ambassador Thongril assumed a position at the entrance to the hall and his booming voice again rose above their conversation.

  "Ladies and gentlemen!" he cried. "Nobles of Brydium! Prince Thonicil, Heir to the Dragon Throne, and Princess Thessa, Flower of Brythond!"

  The prince and princess of Brydium entered to heartfelt applause and were guided to their place at the head of the far-right table.

  "King Theros Th'nar!" Thongril continued, when the applause subsided. "Defender of the Whesguard and Bearer of the Highsword Dragonslayer! And his queen, Elaynor of Cilidan, Jewel of the Northland!"

  Thunderous cheers greeted the king and queen as they made their way with measured grace to the head of the center table a few seats from where Jack stood. Raising his hands for quiet once the king and queen has taken their seats, Ambassador introduced the guests of honor of the evening’s festivities.

  "Therion Thongril! Knight of the Realm! And his betrothed, Lysette Darisa! Daughter of Hanis Darisa, Mayor of Thondil!"

  Therion was grinning foolishly at the young woman on his arm, a striking brunette with hazel eyes and a face flushed with the excitement of moment. Ambassador Thongril embraced Therion, then his lovely intended bride, to a resounding ovation. Beaming with pride, he escorted the pair to their places next to Brydium's king and queen. When the happy couple was seated, the ambassador motioned for the guests to take their own places at the table and cried with a loud voice that echoed from the rafters. "Let the feast begin!"

  Servants bearing trays laden with all manner of delicacies began to make their way among the seated guests, doling out generous portions of roast venison, baked ham, and a veritable garden of steamed vegetables and freshly baked breads. Chilled wine soon flowed in rivers and the feast was joined with joyous gusto.

  Between bites of mouthwatering venison and generous swallows of wine, the old warrior on Jack's right introduced himself as Colonel Armas Vedder, retired, of the First Brythond Lancers, and wasted no time in making suggestion to the new duke of Thonbor on how to secure his duchy from further attacks by the grim'Hiru infesting the Garhon Mountains bordering his lands. Jack smiled politely at each offered bit of advice and soon began to sound like a broken record with the solicitous reply, "I shall certainly take your words under consideration, Colonel."

  The young nobleman on his left, after announcing he was Kalen Merel, eldest son of the Earl of Merelburg, promptly ignored Braedan for the remainder of the evening, obviously feeling to make further conversation with the man who until a few weeks ago had been an outlaw pirate and fugitive from justice was beneath a man of his station.

  An hour later, Colonel Vedder had just launched into re-telling of a border engagement against the Kadinar cavalry when he was a newly commissioned lieutenant, with only a platoon of green recruits at his back, when King Theros stood and the hall fell instantly silent. He nodded to the head steward hovering at his elbow and with a sharp cl
ap, servants began refilling glasses. When each guest held a cup brimming with dark red wine, the king raised his own and smiled at the young couple seated next to him.

  "A toast!" Theros cried. "To Therion and Lysette! May they know as much happiness in their coming union as Elaynor and I have enjoyed in our twenty-four years together!"

  "Twenty-six years," Queen Elaynor smiled at her husband.

  "Indeed? Twenty-six?" he asked feigning surprise, and was rewarded by polite laughter from the gathered guests.

  "Yes dear," the queen assured him.

  "Hmm...well, To Therion and Lysette!"

  "To Therion and Lysette!" the guests shouted in reply.

  Prince Thonicil stood next, expressing his hope the couple experienced the same joy and wonder in their coming life together as he had known in his brief marriage to the enchanting Thessa. Glasses were raised again in rousing toast. Ambassador Thongril followed the prince, and with tears in his eyes, recounted his own period of wedded bliss with his dear, departed wife, passed on now these last ten years. After his toast, he again embraced his son and future daughter-in-law. Down the table it went, with each guest rising in turn to toast the betrothed couple.

  A momentary silence descended upon the gathering as glasses were refilled, then all eyes turned to Braedan. Standing slowly, he surveyed the gathered crowd. Count Arthol, having forgotten to mention this part of the evening, smiled innocently and shrugged with amusement. Frantically trying to come up with some inane toast considered sufficient for the evening, his eyes fell on Therion and Lysette. Therion helped him escape from Dorshev, risking his reputation if not his very life, to help someone he didn’t even know. He deserved more than just a simple, “I hope you live happily ever after.” The young man reached over and grasped the hand of his intended and leaned forward expectantly. Braedan had the uncomfortable premonition no matter what else was said this night, his words would bless or curse this marriage.

  “Lords and Ladies,” he began hesitantly, “your majesties. Like our gracious host, I also know the pain of lost love. In Brimcohn, I thought perhaps I had found a love that would last a lifetime. But the cruel hand of fate and the Norgarthan navy took my love from me in a night of fire and blood. When Kaiddra…when she was lost, I feared I had lost any chance at happiness. Fate however, can be kind as well as cruel. Unexpected and unlooked for, another entered my life. Her kindness lifted me out of my despair. Her smile alone was sufficient to fill the emptiness of my heart. In her eyes, I found reason to hope again. At her touch my broken heart beat once more.

  Some of you will rightly say to find two much women in one lifetime, I have been double blessed. Yes, but double cursed as well. Sadly…the woman who lifted my heart from the ashes is engaged to another. I do not wish to sadden this joyous day with my troubles. I mention it only for this reason. Such a love, even though there is little hope it can be consummated, can strengthen a man’s heart to the point he can endure any hardship. It can lessen even the most horrible of circumstances. With such a love to sustain him, a man can find hope even in the darkest night or the deepest dungeon. There is no power in heaven above or hell below capable of defeating a man’s will when he belongs so completely to another.

  It is this exactly type of love I now wish upon Lysette and Therion. There will be…trying times ahead. Hardships will come to test your love. But you must remain strong…strong in the certain knowledge no matter how hopeless the situations seems, no matter how great the distance separating you from you lover’s smile, no matter how dark the night gathering around you, in your heart you will always carry a love that burns brighter than the first dawn, a love strong enough to conquer all evil.

  “To Therion and Lysette,” he finished quickly, draining his glass.

  A hush descended on the room as Braedan resumed his seat. For several awkward seconds it lingered, until finally an older woman of stately grace and beauty rose from her place at the table and silently raised her glass. Braedan would later learn the woman was the Lady Baetriss Th’nell, sister of Duchess Arayai Th’nar, wife of the former Duke of Thonbor. Lady Baetriss example was followed first by a teary eyed Gweneveare, then Queen Elaynor, until everyone was standing with raised glasses.

  “To Therion and Lysette,” Ambassador Thongril said quietly. It was echoed by the entire room.

  When everyone was again seated, Colonel Vedder stood and quietly resumed the toasts. Exhausted from pouring out his soul, Jack was unaware Lysette had risen as well until he felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder. He turned to find the young Thondil maiden with tears streaming down her cheeks and Therion standing uncomfortably at her side.

  "Forgive me Lady," he apologized quietly. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening with such depressing...drivel."

  "Forgive you?" Lysette asked with a smile contradicting her tears. Kneeling, she took both his hands and kissed them. "Your grace, I have come to thank you. For a man I have never met...a stranger, to bare his soul as you have done...for my betrothal toast...it is a blessing far beyond..." Overcome with emotion, Lysette could not continue for several seconds. "I have come to thank you," she said when she had composed herself once more. "And to ask...the lady you spoke of...May I have her name? I would know the source of my good fortune so I may include her in my prayers."

  "Though her name...sings in my heart," Jack sighed wistfully, "I dare not speak it here. Her intended is a powerful man. Powerful...and dangerous. If he even suspected of my love for her, he might...I fear he might cause her harm."

  "That cannot be!" Lysette gasped in horror. "Surely the woman who could inspire you so is not engaged to such...such a vile beast! For my evening would be ruined in truth."

  When Jack could not bring himself to allay her fears, the young woman knew it was indeed true and began to sob quietly, leaning her head against Therion's thigh.

  "Take heart my dear," Therion stroked her hair comfortingly. "Surely the Creator, in his infinite mercy, would not allow such...injustice to endure?" Though he meant the words for his distraught bride-to-be, they were also directed at Braedan. Therion had been one of his rescuers that foggy morning outside Dorshev. He could well guess the name Jack dared not speak. As well as the identity of the vile beast to whom she was engaged. "Surely he wouldn't."

  "Only time will tell Therion," Jack whispered, draining his glass as soon as it was filled by a passing servant.

  The remainder of the toasts went quickly, for as much as the other guests pretended not to notice the unsettling effect Jack's words had had on the lovely Lysette, they could not ignore how wooden and hollow their own carefully rehearsed remarks sounded after his heartfelt oration. When the last guest had stood and offered his blessing on Therion and Lysette's impending nuptials, a brief, barely audible wish for lifelong peace and happiness, Ambassador Thongril again took the floor.

  "My friends!" he smiled, attempting to reclaim the lost levity which had prevailed earlier. "I thank you for the gracious wishes extended to my son and his chosen bride. Their marriage will be one blessed by heaven because of what has been spoken this night, I have no doubt. As further payment for your kind words, the finest musicians in all of Brydium await your presence in the ball room! To the dance!"

  With a raucous cheer, the guests began filing from the dining hall, eager to escape the gloom which had fallen upon the room. Jack rose with them, though he had no wish to continue with the festivities. In fact, as he began making his way from the hall his plan was to find a secluded corner and a bottle and quietly drown his dark mood with grape. His plan was foiled however, when Prince Thonicil hailed him before he could lose himself in the crowd.

  "May I have a word with you, Duke Thonbor?" the prince asked. By the troubled look on his face and his formal tone, Jack sensed the request was only one step below a royal command.

  "Of course, highness," he sighed, wondering what he'd done now to offend the prince.

  "My lady," Thonicil turned as Thessa joined them, "I would speak with Duke Jack alone."
Once again, his tone suggested more command than request.

  "Husband?" Thessa asked curiously, confused by his unusual abruptness.

  "Please my love," Thonicil insisted, but this time softened his words with a smile.

  "As my lord wishes," Thessa nodded. "Need I remind you, Doctor Gallon has permitted me but one dance this night? If I miss my chance while you are discussing prophecies..."

  "You will not miss your dance heart of my heart," the prince promised.

  "I shall count the seconds," Thessa warned. Before turning away, she smiled warmly at Braedan. "Your toast was beautiful Jack."

  Thonicil waited until his wife had departed and the room was deserted of all save the servants clearing away the tables. Those he insured remained safely out of hearing with stern glances before he spoke again.

  "Thessa informed you of my trip to the Abbey of Saint Sheridan." It was not a question.

  "She did," Jack nodded. So that was what this was about. "She mentioned something about a...manuscript?"

  "Indeed," the prince replied, studying Jack intently. "A little-known codex written by Therolon the Dragonslayer during the latter days of his reign. It is not widely known, but Therolon was considered a prophet of some renown. Not so famous as Aaracus to be sure, but some contend, the learned brothers of Sheridan's Abbey chief among them, Therolon was gifted with remarkable insight at times. Especially where it concerned the return of the High King's exiled heir."

  "Oh?" Jack asked hesitantly, struggling with a growing sense of unease. Thonicil had learned something at the abbey. He could see it in the princes' eyes. But what? "I didn't know."

  "Oh yes," Thonicil nodded. "Though his prophecies about the Heir of Bra’Adan are in many places even more confusing than the Holy Aaracus', other parts are amazingly clear and revealing. In fact, one of his visions, in light of recent events, has narrowed my search to one man. A man, whom I might add, is surprisingly right here, in Brythond."