Path of Kings

by James Dale

"It would be better for Cassy if I didn't," du Gail sighed. "Even though the incident is long forgotten, he is still under warrant. I would be duty bound to arrest him."

  "Not during the Haelfest you aren't," Erlwin smiled. "As a contestant he has temporary immunity from all but capital crimes."

  "By god you're right!" the captain laughed, slapping the table top. "I had forgotten about that law."

  "Probably because honest men never have to us it," Cyran grinned, digging his elbow into Erlwin's side.

  "It has been ten years," Marten said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I might even be able to persuade King Theros to quietly pardon him."

  "I have some small amount of influence with the king," Jack smiled. "I'll write him a note of endorsement."

  "Would you your grace?"

  "Knowing what it's like to be an outlaw myself, it would be a pleasure. Not to mention it would piss off Uthor Sybaris."

  "I would be in your debt your grace," Captain du Gail said humbly. "Borg Cassaban, bad temper and all, was one of brightest young officers the Legion ever produced. He would likely be a major by now if not for the Count of Cilidar."

  "If Cassaban is all you say he is," Jack nodded, "it would be a crime on my part to let such talent go to waste. I'll put in a good word to the king."

  "Thank you, your grace," du Gail smiled happily. "Then I shall also seek out my old friend tonight."

  "I almost forgot," Arrinor said, reaching under the table he produced a large bundle, tightly wrapped in brown paper. "Before we left the Two Fountains, a remarkably beautiful young woman asked me to deliver something for her. She said to tell you just because you had to dash off again, it doesn't excuse you from dressing properly."

  Jack tore away a corner of the wrapping to discover a blue surcoat. The one he'd had made to match his armor. In one corner of the coat, he noticed some embroidery which hadn't been there before. It was same the uprooted oak he'd had selected for his shield covering. How did...? Gweneveare had obviously went through his things after he left yesterday. From the details of the intricate needlepoint, she'd probably spent most of the night working on it. "She wants me to wear this huh?" he asked with an amused smile.

  "She was most insistent," Arrinor nodded. "In fact, her exact words were, 'If he does not put it on in your presence, you will both have hard questions to answer.' From the way everyone at the Two Fountains stepped lightly around her, I do not think they would be questions either of us cared to endure."

  "Don't worry Arri," Jack laughed, tucking the package under his arm. "I'll not give Gwen the satisfaction of calling a Prince of Ail'itharain to heel. She gets enough enjoyment from badgering me."

  "Thank you, kinsman," Arrinor sighed. "Ailicia is trying enough. I would not relish having two such women giving me correction. Heaven forbid they should ever meet."

  "Amen to that," Jack nodded heartily.

  After their shared drinks, Arrinor suggested it was time to start back to the palace. It was getting on in the afternoon and would begin not long after dark. At the prince's insistence, they all went upstairs to watch Jack change, then Captain du Gail and Arrinor departed. With nothing else on their agenda, Jack and his two guardsmen reluctantly ordered dinner. The roast however, had not improved.

  The next morning Jack rose early. With the reception still hours away, he decided a bit of sword practice was in order. Donning his mask, he coaxed Erlwin and Cyran to join him in the Arrow’s back courtyard so he could work out the soreness from sleeping on the unforgiving floor of their room. Cryan tried his Lord first, half hearted at first, but after some time he was doing his best to try and breach Jack’s defenses. After an hour, he finally gave up in frustration and Erlwin took his turn. The ringing of steel had drawn patrons from their slumber and soon a larger crowd had gathered to watch. The results were much the same, even for the Grey Tiger. After a short break, Erlwin and Cyran had a go at him together, and the watching crowd soon began frenzied betting.

  “Enough,” Jack said as it was approaching noon. He was exhausted and the soreness from sleeping on the floor had be replaced by weariness in entirely different muscle groups. The saluted the two men with his sword and the watching crowd erupted in cheers.

  “I thought Kirk been been taking it easy on you that first day,” Erlwin said, wiping sweat from his brow. “I know where my money is going tomorrow, regardless who you draw my Lord.”

  “Mine as well,” Cyran agreed. “My Lord, if you will teach me some of those forms, I may enter the next competition in four years. If there is one that is,” he finished wearily.

  “Let’s clean up and have a bit of lunch,” Jack suggested. “I’m buying?”

  “As long as it’s somewhere besides the Arrow,” Erlwin smiled.

  Lunch at the Two Sister’s Inn in a slightly more…respectable…section of Immer proved much more the trio’s liking. So much so that Jack regretted his hasty decision on quartering at the Broken Arrow. Upon returning to the Arrow late afternoon, Jack was surprise to find Arrinor and Marten du’Gail again sitting in the common room.

  “You two are going to ruin my anonymity if you keep showing up here,” Jack said, taking a set at their table.

  “I’m an Ailfar, Jack,” Arrinor shrugged. “I can moved about a city as large as Immer without attracting attention.”

  “Besides,” Marten added, “how else will you get news of the day?”

  “There’s new?” Braedan asked.

  “Some,” the captain nodded. “Kiathan asked King Theros why the pardoned pirate and new Duke of Thonbor didn’t accompany him to Immer. Said he wished to meet with you? To question you again so he could decide whether or not to consider extending you a pardon in Doridan as well.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jack snorted. “What did our king say?”

  “Uncle Dragon let it be known you were regrettably forced to remain in Elvendale,” Arrinor answered. “Recovering from wounds suffered along the Elfway. Kiathan was most distressted.”

  “Only because he wants to kill me himself,” Jack muttered. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing pressing,” Marten replied. “Mostly speculation on why there is not a single Lord of the Staffclave in Immer this year.”

  “Ally and Princess Annawyn have been as thick as thieves,” Arrinor informed him. “Always talking quietly in a corner by themselves. I wonder what they could be talking about?” he grinned.

  “Needlepoint?” Jack shrugged.

  “A horsemaiden and an Ailfar princess?” Marten asked with a barking laugh. “Planning a coupe to take over the Whesguard most likely.”

  With such talk, they passed the remainder of the afternoon. When it came time to leave for the Immer palace and the reception for contestants, it was decided Jack should forego traveling on Eaudreuil. The Val’anna was simply too noticeable. Jack saddled Cyran's gelding instead, much to Eaudreuil's chagrin, but an apple helped convince the stallion he was just too striking a figure to ride to the palace, what with Kiathan's men most likely still on the lookout for him. The blue mask would be enough to hide Jack's identity, but a Val'anna stallion of Eaudreuil's breeding was not so easily disguised.

  After a few minutes’ discussion, it was decided Jack should follow at a discreet distance behind the captain of the Dragon Guard and the Ailfar prince as they journeyed to the High-King's palace, to further avoid any unwanted attention. They arrived just as the sun was setting at the hereditary home of Aralon's ruler. Without a High-King upon its throne, this was the only occasion for every eye to re-focus on Immer, and the Steward took great care to remind the world of its rightful place in history. The towering citadel was brightly lit with colorful lamps of blue and gold, and hung with the banners and pinions of every kingdom of the Whesguard.

  Jack lingered safely back while Arrinor and Captain du Gail were passed through the palace gates. It was open to admit contestants and arriving guests, but still manned by a troop of alert and watchful guards. After waiting a few minutes, Jack approached the gate and announ
ced himself to the officer of the watch. Because he was entering under an alias, he was asked to make his mark into the ledger carried by one of the guards, which they then compared to the signature he'd made earlier in the day. When the officer was satisfied he was indeed the Disinherited Knight, his sword was taken and tagged, and he was given a marker which he could use to reclaim it later. After receiving detailed directions to the hall where the opening ceremonies would be held, a groom took his horse and Braedan was allowed to enter.

  The directions proved unnecessary however, for all he had to do was follow the flow of the crowd being guided along by helpful, smiling guards positioned every few feet down the lighted path. Jack couldn't help but notice, however cordial the guards seemed as they greeted the passing contestants and guests, their welcoming smiles did not reach their eyes, nor did their hands ever stray more than a few inches from the swords hanging at their hips. There would be no possibility of anyone becoming disoriented and accidentally...wandering away unnoticed. No doubt this was due to the fact the reigning monarchs of every Whesguard kingdom, save King Ellgenn of Doridan, was present in the palace.

  Because of this, Jack had little difficulty finding his way to the hall. In former days, the large auditorium had served as the audience chamber for Aralon's High-King. Since there had been no one to hold court in the hall for over seven hundred years however, it went largely unused, but for infrequent visits from various heads of the western alliance, and of course, the quadrennial opening ceremonies of Ljmarn Haelfest. But this in no wise diminished the grandiose beauty of the hall. A long succession of vigilant stewards had faithfully saw to its upkeep, confident one day a master would return to occupy the hall once more.

  A large, boisterous crowd filled the floor of the chamber. At first glance Jack would have placed their number at nearly four or five hundred strong. Surrounding the chamber on all sides were three levels of balconies as well, also quickly filling with people. To the rear of the chamber, set back against the far wall and resting upon a raised dais, was the throne of the High-King of Aralon. Behind the empty throne on the first mezzanine, several seats had been roped off and surrounded by guards. The reason for this soon became clear as a colorfully dressed crier stepped to the foot of the dais.

  "All Hail!" the man shouted with a thunderous voice that silenced the gathered crowd. "The Kings of the Whesguard! Enter His Royal Highness, Theros Th'nar! King of Brydium! Bearer of the Highsword Dragonslayer!"

  All present dropped immediately to one knee in homage to the ruler of Brydium as Theros appeared on the balcony, dressed in his familiar black silk, with Dragonslayer strapped at his side.

  "His Royal Highness!" the man continued. "Cilidon An'Mera! King of Ail'itharain! Lord of the Golden Wood! Bearer of the Highsword Grimblade!" Cilidon appeared beside Theros.

  The next name announced was Kael An’kaera, King of Annoth. Kiathan Ellgaer, introduced as Prince and Heir of Doridan and not the Duke of Raashan came next. The crowd erupted with thunderous cheers as the Swordmaster of Aralon appeared on the balcony, and the traitor duke inclined his head with haughty superiority at the crowds below. Though the representatives of Amorhad, Caladin, and Donian were also announced by the crier, Jack never heard their names. His ears were filled with the ringing of hot blood as it raged through his veins at the sight of his enemy.

  Somehow Kiathan must have felt his burning stare. The smug smile on his thin lips grew stained as he swept the chamber with a cold, searching eye. Jack quickly ducked his head and for the briefest instant, he was sure the duke paused to consider him. Then just as surely, like the sun re-emerging from behind the shadow of a cloud on a hot summer day, he felt the duke's gaze move on. When he cautiously raised his eyes again, the duke was once more acknowledging the adulation of the crowds, but his haughty smile had been replaced by a troubled scowl.

  With the introductions of the Whesguard monarchs completed, the rulers took their seats and several other people began filing into the balcony. Jack recognized Kirstaen Ankara, the young prince of Annoth he'd met in Brythond. After him came the twins A'randraial and Ciliandrion, followed by Arrinor and Ailicia, then Prince Thonicil and Thessa, whom he was somewhat surprised had made the trip, considering her condition. Finally, a young maiden with sea-green eyes and a fiery auburn mane entered. The princess of Doridan also felt his eyes upon her, and when she searched the crowds he did not shy from her glance. Hidden behind his mask of blue silk however, her gaze slipped over him without the slightest sign of recognition. When her beautiful eyes had passed on, Jack's heart began to beat again, albeit with heavy regret.

  "Daenel d'Lachaeland!" the crier shouted, calling forth the final dignitary. "Keeper of the Eternal Flame! Governor of the Whesguard! By the grace of Yh and the Law of the Seven Lands! The Steward of Immer!"

  A young man not much beyond thirty years of age, with closely cropped brown hair and eyes the color of hardened steel stepped from a door behind the empty throne and walked to the front of the dais. As he stood surveying the gathered crowd, d'Lachaeland exuded an odd mixture of humility and authority, strength and servitude, grim power and refreshing modesty. The epitome of the perfect steward.

  "Hail people of Aralon!" he cried in a loud, powerful voice.

  "Hail Steward of Immer!" the gathered crowd replied with a single, thunderous shout.

  d'Lachaeland turned to those seated above him in the first balcony and bowed, "Hail Guardians of the Whesguard!"

  The monarchs of western Aralon acknowledged his genuflection with stately nods, but retained their seats.

  "I bid thee all welcome to the Imperial City," the steward said, turning to address the crowd once more. "To the contestants who have journeyed here to compete in our games, I wish each good luck and the favor of Yh our Holy Creator. To the kings and queens, princes and princesses of the Whesguard who grace our humble city with their presence, I wish you continued health and strength necessary to guide and protect the subjects under your care. Without further ado, in the memory of Ljmarn Bra'Adan, last High-King of Aralon, it gives me great pleasure to hereby declare this... Haelfest...open!"

  "That's it?" Jack asked, turning to the man standing next to him, as the auditorium once more erupted in cheers.

  "What?" the man cried.

  "I said is that it?" Jack shouted again, making his voice heard over the din.

  "Daenel is not one for long speeches," the fellow grinned. "Now his father Danfren, may he rest in peace, was a talker! Last Haelfest he rambled on for an hour, naming each lord and lady and calling down the blessing of Yh’Adan and the Four Archangels and all the martyred saints. It was fine for the gentry and all. They're accustomed to long-winded blow hards. But he damn near bored the rest of us to tears."

  "Don't have much patience for long speeches either," Jack nodded, "but I had expected a bit more. Not much of a ceremony if it's alright for me to say so."

  "Oh, there'll be more later," the man assured him. "In about an hour or so, after everyone has had a chance to mingle some and sample the Steward's hospitality, Daenel will draw the name of the first pairing for the Competition of the Sword. Swordmaster Kiathan and whoever the unlucky bastard is what was too proud or too stupid to pay off the judges. After that, well...the rest of the selections will take another hour or two and then Daenel will bid us all good night and tomorrow morning we'll all meet at the coliseum for the March of Honor around the field before the competition begins. Now if you'll excuse me, I just spied a cute little archer who needs to make my acquaintance." Without another word the man was off, working his way through the crowd.

  "And it was nice talking to you to," Jack muttered. "So? I guess I'm supposed to mingle then?"

  Surveying the crowd for a familiar face, Braedan could find no one he recognized. Not surprising considering the company he had kept for the last year. Everyone he knew was either dead or missing, or seated in the balcony far above the press of the bustling throng. Resigning himself to a lonely evening, he began to work h
is way toward the hospitality table. He was barely halfway across the room when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Borg Cassaban.

  "I thought that was you," Cassaban grinned. "I see you took my advice. Nice outfit."

  "Thanks," Jack smiled. "Care to join me for a drink? I was just about to go sample the Steward's wine."

  "That was my plan as well," Cassaban nodded. "Though I don't make it a habit of drinking with masked strangers."

  "Call me John," Jack replied. "My father used it whenever I was in trouble as a boy."

  "Are you in trouble then, John?" Cassaban inquired.

  "Continuously I'm afraid." Braedan smiled.

  "Then it will be my pleasure to drink with you."

  "It seems we have a mutual acquaintance Cassy," Jack said as the two men resumed their journey across the crowded chamber.

  "Oh?" Cassaban asked warily.

  "Marten du Gail."

  "Now that's a name I've not heard in some time," Cassaban replied, regarding Jack with caution. "How do you know Marten du Gail?"

  "The captain and I rode together from Brythond. He was a bit surprised when I mentioned I'd met you yesterday.”

  "I'll wager he was," Cassy snorted. "And what did Captain du Gail have to say about me?"

  "You were the finest swordsman in the Eastern Forward Legion," Jack smiled. "And you were also one of the best officers he'd ever had the pleasure of serving with. Despite your temper."

  "Marten said that?"

  "He also mentioned something about still being mad at you for not saying good-bye to him when you...ummm...left Cilidar."

  "I was in a bit of a hurry," Cassaban grinned.

  "So I've heard."

  "Did he also happen to tell you why I left in such a hurry?"

  "A little matter of striking the Count of Cilidar," Jack nodded. "Which I must say, elevated my opinion of you several notches. I've also had the displeasure of meeting Uthor Sybaris. I felt like hitting the bastard myself."

  "I guess we share something more than an acquaintance with Marten du Gail," Cassaban laughed.