Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Right behind you sir," Braedan replied, then turned to Thessa. "Take care of yourself my princess."

  "I will my champion," she smiled, stepping forward to embrace him.

  "Highness," he said, releasing Thessa and turning to her husband with an outstretched hand. "It will be in Immer."

  "As it should be," Thonicil nodded with understanding. "I’ll see you there...your grace."

  "Dragons!" Captain du'Gail shouted, vaulting into the saddle when Braedan and the king were mounted. "Form column of twos! At a walk! For-WARD!"

  With a final wave farewell to his wife, Theros moved to assume his place in the center of the formation, with Braedan and Captain du'Gail at his side and Kirk and the Golden Lions falling back to position themselves at the rear.

  Even though it was already two hours after sunrise, once outside the palace they found the streets virtually empty, except for the occasional servant or two, all the way to the Circle of Nobles. When Jack remarked upon this, Theros turned to him with an amused look.

  "Look around you, your grace," the king smiled. "Over there is Ian Thongril's estate. There is the home of Joerael Tiek. Over there is Baemin Th'ebron's. And Gest Bollinger's."

  At last Jack understood. Each person the king named had been at the ambassador's house last night. Considering how he had felt this morning, it was little wonder no one was stirring yet in the Circle of Nobles. They were all likely still abed recovering from the party. Unless they had access to Sirranon's miraculous hangover cure, they probably wouldn't be up and about until their king was halfway to Ail'itharain.

  "This procession isn't for them anyway," Theros shrugged, apparently reading Jack's thoughts.

  Who he meant soon became clear when they entered the Circle of Citizens. Two hours after sunrise in this section the city, the streets were crowded with people. Shouts of praise greeted the unexpected appearance of the king's banner and cries of 'Hail the Dragonslayer!' quickly rang from the surrounding walls as the people of Brythond spied the regal form of their king. When it became known the man riding with Theros was Jack Braedan the Hawkfinder, rescuer and champion of their princess, a new cry soon joined those for the king.

  "Sha'Ga'rael! Sha'Ga'RAEL! Sha'GA'RAEL! SHA'GA'RAEL!"

  "What are they saying sire?" Jack asked, leaning close to the king to make himself heard above the shouts.

  "It is old Brydianic," Theros explained, looking at him thoughtfully, "It means Great Lion. The people seem to have taken a liking to you, Duke Thonbor. Should I be worried? After my disastrous search for Valarius, they may be seeking a new king to place on the Dragon Throne."

  "I have no designs on your throne my Lord," Jack assured him with a grin.

  "Not on mine perhaps," the king said quietly.

  "What was that?" Jack asked. The crowd was deafening.

  "Never mind," Theros shouted. "Smile and wave to the people Jack Hawkfinder. It has been many years since they have looked upon a true hero. Many years indeed."

  Thanks to the cheering crowds formed along their route, Theros' prediction of the time required to negotiate the streets of his city proved tediously accurate. The throngs grew successively larger and larger as they rode through each circle until by the time the procession reached Brythond's Great South Gate, their number had swelled to several thousand. Jack silently thanked Sirranon for his miracle hangover remedy. If not for the disgusting brew, the shouting would have surely knocked him from the saddle. Gweneveare would not have like that one bit.

  Passing beneath the city walls the procession turned west, skirting along the edge the Norway Fields until they reached Elfway, the ancient thoroughfare connecting Brydium and Ail'itharain. The road traveled through the prosperous suburbs of Brythond, and once beyond once beyond the outskirts of the capital city, entered a land of rolling, fertile fields stretching from horizon to horizon. It was the first full week of planting season and a veritable army of husbandmen were busy directing teams of plow horse and oxen, methodically cutting deep furrows into the rich, dark earth. The air was filled with the fragrant scent of fresh turned soil, a heady aroma that sang of the earth's eagerness to receive the seed grain, which even now rested along the edge of the fields in large sacks which had been set aside during last season's harvest in preparation for this day.

  Occasionally the Elfway passed through peaceful communities of stone and timber houses, where carefree toddlers played under the watchful eyes of stout farm wives, while more children not yet old enough to work the fields tended flocks of sheep and goats. All activity ceased as the column of soldiers passed through their midst, and though one and all of the simple people bowed respectfully at the unexpected sight of their liege, the country folk did not offer up the same frenzied display of homage their city cousins had bestowed upon Brydium's lord.

  This did not mean they loved their king less. Far from it. The earthiness of this region simply produced a different breed of subject. Should Theros have chosen to stop at any of the houses along their path and ask its master for a night's lodging and supper, he would have still been called highness and treated as an honored guest. Nevertheless, he and Braedan and as many knights in shining armor which could fit into the house would have found themselves seated at the same table with barefoot children and farmers in home-spun wool. They would have been asked to pass the peas and carrots thank you, and like as not, been expected to help clear away the leavings afterwards and maybe lend a hand with the dishes.

  Of the two breeds of subjects, which would be credited with showing greater respect to their king; The nameless masses shouting "Hail the Dragonslayer' or the simple, unselfish farmer who would gladly have shared all he had, expecting nothing in return and probably refusing compensation if offered? Judging by the broad, fatherly smile dominating the king's face as he acknowledged each quiet, dignified bow, there was little doubt which he considered more pleasing.

  Be that as it may, Jack breathed a small sigh of relief when the troop passed through the last village without the king stopping to sample his subject's hospitality. From the appraising looks the farmers gave Eaudreuil as they rode by, there was a good chance he would have awakened the next morning to find the Val'anna with a yoke around his neck, working the fields. And though he didn't doubt a day spent laboring at something productive would have taught the aloof stallion a valuable lesson in humility, it would not have been polite on his part to subject the farmers to Eaudreuil's thorny disposition.

  "Let a two-legs try and put one of those contraptions around my neck," the roan neighed. "You will see just how thorny my disposition can get."

  "My point exactly," Jack laughed, belatedly realizing he had forgotten to shield his thoughts from his testy, four-legged friend.

  "Did you say something your grace?" Theros inquired, turning to him.

  "Just discussing a possible career change with Eaudreuil sire," Jack replied. "By the way those good men were contemplating his broad shoulders, it's possible they think he'd be put to better use pulling a low than carrying the Duke of Thonbor."

  "You noticed, did you?" Theros chuckled. "And what does he think? Should we turn back and let him have a go at plowing?"

  "Eaudreuil?"

  "I would not demean myself so," the Val'anna snorted haughtily, "It is enough I am forced to suffer under your weight from dawn to dusk."

  "Another time perhaps," Jack translated diplomatically.

  "Just as well," Theros smiled wryly. "I need those fields planted before the spring rains set in."

  "See?" Jack laughed. "The king knows you already. And he's only been riding with us half the morning. You're developing quiet an unsavory reputation my friend. Maybe you should consider adjusting you're attitude a bit."

  "I am pleased with my attitude as is thank you," Eaudreuil replied.

  With such playful banter the leagues passed quickly and they arrived at Naman's Crossing an hour before sunset. Here the procession stopped for the day, pitching their tents upon a small hillock with a commandin
g view of the surrounding plains. After picketing their mounts, the Dragon Guards posted a watch then gathered around a hastily lit campfire to prepare their evening meal. A hearty stew was soon measured out to each man by the trooper chosen as cook for the night. Accepting his bowl with a nod of thanks, Braedan walked to where Theros had a seat on the grass a short distance apart from the rest of the company.

  "May I?" he asked.

  "Of course," Theros nodded amicably. "Always room for Thonbor at the king's table."

  Jack settled down on the ground beside the Dragonslayer and began to eat in silence as the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon in the west. When it had disappeared from view behind a spectacular array of orange and purple clouds with no one moving to join them, Braedan decided it was time to broach the subject weighing on his mind for the better part of the day. He'd been puzzling over what Theros had said to him during their ride through the city. More precisely, the brief snatch of conversation which had been drowned out by the cheering of the crowds. 'Not my throne perhaps,' Theros had said. An odd statement to make...unless? Unless the Dragonslayer knew he was walking a path that would lead him to another throne?

  "How long have you known?" he asked causally. That was all. How long? Even so, Theros knew exactly what he implied.

  "I suspected from the moment you walked into Thain's house and handed over Bin'et ardendel," Theros shrugged. "Though I was not certain until two days ago."

  "How did..."

  "Thonicil is not the only one who can bully his way into Sennaca's smithy," the king grinned. "Who do you think directed him to the codex at St. Sheridan's? My question is how long have you known?"

  "Since...well..." Was there any point in keeping the entire story from him any longer? He already knew. Taking a deep breath, Jack told the king about the Temple of the Door. About Errand son of Kevin. As he had done with Thonicil the previous evening, he also recounted the unabridged story of the Elohara, and his meeting with Ljmarn. He told him about Maelcain's dreams a bridge between the Jahrkirin and Aralon.

  "Is that all?" Theros asked quietly when he finally finished.

  "That's about it," Jack nodded.

  "Yh’Adan hasn't appeared to you in a pillar of fire to offer you the keys to heaven?" the king grinned.

  "No. Well, not yet anyway."

  "Interesting."

  "If you don't mind my saying," Jack ventured hesitantly, "you're taking this well. I'd have thought you'd be more... I don't know..."

  "Awed perhaps?"

  "Maybe not awed."

  "Don't be disappointed," the king laughed. "It takes quite a lot to awe the bearer of a High-sword. When you stand in the Temple of the Sword before High Lord Perigaen and successfully draw Yhswyndyr? I promise I shall be dutifully impressed."

  "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Jack teased. If Theros could be cavalier about this, well...so could he.

  "Word of honor," Theros assured him. "Until then however, it might be wise to keep this our little secret. I had enough trouble getting you out of Brythond alive with all those jealous nobles plotting...accidents. Not to mention Valarius the Traitor and Kiathan's snakes. Of course, we will have to tell Cilidon."

  "Of course."

  "But no one else. Not until we have you safely on Lordsisle. Wait? You have another purpose for competing at the Haelfest other than exposing Kiathan, don’t you? Do you mean to declare your-self in Immer?"

  "That was the last vision in the Elohara," Jack nodded slowly.

  "I suppose it would be fitting," Theros considered thoughtfully. "Though I would like Cilidon's thoughts on the matter."

  "Of course," Jack said again. “I am always willing to listen to the council of kings.”

  "We will speak no more of this until we are safely in Elvendale," the king decided. "If the men should overhear...I trust the Dragons Guards with my life, but then I trusted Valarius too," he sighed.

  "As you wish," Braedan nodded, brushing grass from his trousers as he stood. "I'm relieved we've finally had this... talk."

  "As am I," Theros replied. "You have a heavy burden to bear Jack...Bra‘Adan, but you do not have to carry it alone. Cilidon An'Mera and I have been preparing for this day a long time. Cilidon a long time indeed. That said, I believe I shall turn in. I don't know about you...but my royal arse is a bit saddle sore. Valkyr's gait was a bit troublesome today for some reason."

  "No doubt he noticed those farmers sizing him up for a yoke same as Eaudreuil," Jack suggested. The stallion had also been more preoccupied exploring his suddenly discovered link with a telepathic human than providing a stable platform for his rider, which Jack left unsaid.

  "No doubt," Theros laughed. "Sleep well...your grace."

  "And you," Jack bowed, picking up his empty bowl.

  The following morning saw a red sky dawn in the east. Reading the weather being a universal talent of all soldiers, Dragon Guardsmen and Golden Lions alike unpacked cloaks before breaking camp. Jack didn't have to look at the sky to know he should do the same. Eaudreuil and Valkyr were already lamenting about the coming rain. Their foresight was rewarded barely an hour later when a light drizzle began to fall. By noon the drizzle had become a steady downpour even their rain gear could not turn aside and the Elfway had become a muddy quagmire.

  That night they made camp in a thicket of gray spruce about a hundred yards off the road. The tall evergreens provided cover from the rain, which unfortunately showed no signs of slacking, and those troopers who were not assigned first watch took the opportunity to huddle around a large fire in the center of the thicket, stripping down to their small clothes to their polish armor while their tunics and trousers dried. Before settling down to sleep, Jack used his special sense to search for signs of life around their perimeter. The only minds he touched within any distance was a pair of decidedly agitated foxes, upset over having their home usurped by the interloping horsemen.

  A steel gray sky greeted the company when they awoke the following morning. Though the worst of the rain seemed to have passed to the west while they slept beneath the boughs of their living umbrella, no one thought it safe as yet to pack away their protective cloaks when it was time to break camp and move on. Dreary would best describe the ride along the Elfway on second day, a day of intermittent rain, broken by periods of fog and drizzle, with little said between the travelers except the occasional gloomy remark about the inclement weather. Soon even those complaints diminished to but muttered curses, leaving only the sucking squish of hooves in mud to break the silence of the plains.

  The solitary bright point of the entire day for Jack came about noon when the company stopped at a rain swollen stream to let the horses drink while the troops paused to snack on dried jerky and field bread. It was during this brief halt he noticed one of the young guardsmen rummaging through his saddle bags. The object of his search, he soon discovered to his delight, was a beautifully crafted, short stemmed pipe and a pouch of golden smoking tobacco.

  "I don't suppose you've got another one of those packed away in there?" asked Jack hopefully, walking up to the young trooper.

  "As a matter of fact, I do your grace," the smooth cheeked solider grinned.

  "Would you consider selling it?"

  "Perhaps," the trooper nodded. "If the price is right."

  "And just what might the right price be?" Jack inquired. "Out here in the wilds?"

  "For Jack Hawkfinder?" the young soldier grinned. "Mmmm, two crowns silver?"

  "Ouch," Jack grimaced, but reached into his vest pocket just the same.

  "Will you be needing tabac as well?"

  "I suppose so," Jack sighed, realizing he was about to be taken to the proverbial cleaners. "How much?"

  "That's hard to say. I only brought enough tabac for myself you see..."

  "Another crown?"

  "Make it three and half and I'll thrown in a tinder box," the trooper grinned. "Ye won't find a better deal until we reach Immer."

  "Done," Jack agre
ed, counting out the proper coins.

  The soldier reached into his bag and retrieved a curved stemmed savoy, a leather pouch of tobacco and a small silver tinder box. "Nice doing business with ye your grace," he bowed, passing over the items then pocketing the silver coins. "Mind you keep the pouch dry. The price of tabac seems to rise the farther we get from Brythond."

  "I'll bet it does," Jack grinned. But when he filled his new purchase and drew the first satisfying smoke, he judged the money well spent.

  "I didn't know you enjoyed a good pipe your grace," Captain du'Gail remarked minutes later when he saw Jack happily blowing smoke rings as he waited for the company to remount. "I've an extra I would have given you. How much did young Daen take you for?"

  "Three and a half silver crowns."

  "He let you off easy," du'Gail grinned. "Daen's grandfather is the best pipe maker in all of Brydium. Why, one like that would cost you three by itself easy at any shop in the circle."

  "Should I offer him more?" Jack asked. "I don't want to cheat the boy."

  "Don't worry about Daen," du'Gail laughed. "If he'd wanted more, you'd have paid it."

  "You sound like someone speaking from experience."

  "Let's just say I've learned to I carry plenty of tabac with me when I'm away from Brythond for more than a day or two."

  When everyone remounted again and were prepared to move, Captain du'Gail called aside his company sergeant, Jaughan Vad'dreuil, and instructed him to rotate the squad riding point. Since leaving the last settlement behind yesterday afternoon, six of the guardsmen had been traveling a league in front of the main body as added security.

  "Sergeant Callahan!" Vad'dreuil cried, summoning a promising young trooper he and the captain were grooming for commission. "Take your squad and assume point."

  "Aye sir!" the young sergeant barked, saluted crisply.

  "Would it be all right if I rode with them?" Jack asked. It had been an uneventful two days and riding point would at least be a break in the monotony.

  "Growing weary of my company already, Lord Thonbor?" Theros inquired.

  "Of course not majesty," he grinned. "Eaudreuil would just like to stretch his legs a bit."