Sword of Betrayal

by Robert Evert

  “Next!” Lord Elros shouted.

  Edris poked his head inside. His father sat at a wide table, reviewing various reports and papers. Around him stood an army of his advisors, secretaries, and tax collectors. They all appeared as shaken as the farmer.

  “Have a moment?” Edris asked.

  “Is it important? I’m busy.”

  Edris shifted his gaze to the men standing by his father. “It concerns the matter we discussed yesterday.”

  Lord Elros took his meaning. “Give me a few minutes with the boy.”

  Bowing, the men filed out of the room.

  When they were alone, Lord Elros eyed his son. “You aren’t quitting, are you?”

  “No, sir. I’m actually eager to get started. But I want to get your input on something.”

  “Since when have you ever asked for my input on anything?”

  “I haven’t done anything this important before.”

  This appeared to be the correct answer. The lord’s annoyance ebbed. “What is it?”

  “Edros has been educating me about adventurers. He suggested I go to Upper Angle and snoop around the king’s personal library.”

  “Michael’s library? Why?” Then the lord seemed to understand. “That’s where Markus will be, trying to figure out where the sword may be hidden.”

  The thought that Markus might also be utilizing the king’s library hadn’t occurred to Edris; but seeing his father’s pleasure, he played along. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good!” Lord Elros stood and strolled about the room. “You could say you wanted to research military traditions or stratagems—preparing for your induction.”

  “That was my intent, sir.”

  “Splendid.” He placed his hand on Edris’s shoulder. “Get close to your enemy. Get real close.”

  Unnerved by his father’s enthusiasm, Edris nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “This is an opportunity, Ed. You need to study Markus very closely. Note his habits and his routine. Get to know him. Then—make sure he never wins another quest again!”

  Never wins another quest again…

  What was his father implying? Things were getting out of control.

  “Yes, sir,” Edris said uneasily. “I’ll do my best.”

  “See that you do.” Lord Elros returned to his seat. “I’ll write a letter for you to bring to Michael. I’ll explain you want to get a head start on your military training and request permission to have access to his personal library. He’s very proud of his books. Use that against him. Stroke the bastard’s ego. He’s the type of man who falls for flattery.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send me word as events progress. But be mindful of what you write. No letters are safe. Refer to your mission as ‘your preparation.’”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Finally, a chance to put Michael in his place!” Lord Elros gloated. “He’s always so smug about Markus. He thinks he’s going to be the next Sir Drake. Truthfully speaking, I can’t imagine how he’s managed to win as many quests as he has.”

  “Perhaps His Majesty has used his influence,” Edris said, knowing that bad-mouthing the king was a surefire way to get on his father’s good side.

  “Yes, undoubtedly. Now get ready. I want you in Upper Angle by the day after tomorrow. Markus is almost certainly preparing for the quest. It’ll be announced by the end of next week.”

  Eight

  Edris drained his beer in one long pull, then thumped his tankard on the table with satisfaction. Across from him, Beatrice simpered.

  “What?” he asked, wiping his mouth.

  “I think you’re trying to impress me.”

  “By drinking a beer?”

  “Oh, you know.” She leaned closer, her hazel eyes glinting in the lantern light. Around them, the tavern’s patrons laughed and chatted. “You men are always showing off.”

  Edris grew serious. “And have any men been showing off for you lately?”

  “Why? Would that make you jealous?”

  “Horribly.”

  “Then why are you leaving so soon?”

  She asked the question playfully, but Edris could tell the news of his departure in the morning bothered her.

  “I’m sorry, Bea,” he said. “I have to. Father’s orders.”

  “He isn’t trying to keep us apart—is he? I mean…”

  “No.” He stroked her hand. He was always amazed at the roughness of her skin. She had more calluses than he did. “It’s nothing like that. I doubt he knows about you. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Their fingers intertwined. “Your father not knowing about me is safer for both of us.”

  The conversation was straying into perilous waters and they both knew it.

  “Oh!” Beatrice said, abruptly changing the topic. “I have something for you.” Reaching into a pocket, she produced a small book.

  Taking it, Edris read the cover. “Ode to My Starflower.”

  “It’s by Balen the Bard. They’re sonnets he wrote for his daughter. They’re absolutely marvelous.”

  “Thanks, Bea. I’ve never seen this one before.”

  Edris casually scanned the surrounding patrons as he tucked the book under his belt behind his back. Around them, the din of conversation continued unabated.

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Afraid people might find out you like poetry?”

  “Shhh!”

  “What are you afraid of? Who cares that you like to read?”

  “Bea!” He hushed her again.

  “Well, I think it’s endearing.” She took his enormous hand again. “And I want you to think about me when you read it.”

  Edris’s expression softened. “I will. I’ll read a verse every night before I go to bed and imagine I’m reading it to you.”

  Across the packed tavern, somebody started singing. Soon a dozen other drunken voices joined in.

  “When are you returning?” Beatrice asked sadly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you’re only going to Upper Angle, right? You aren’t doing anything dangerous?”

  Edris waved for the serving girl to bring him another beer. “I don’t know. I’m headed to Upper Angle first. But I may have to go elsewhere. It all depends on how things unfold.”

  “You’ll be safe?”

  “Of course.” He kissed her knuckles. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m getting in a bit of training before I enlist. That’s it.”

  “Why can’t you do that here?”

  Edris paused; he was painting himself into a corner. “Look,” he said as reassuringly as he could, “I can’t tell you what I’m doing.” She frowned at her glass of wine. “But I can tell you that I will miss you and I’ll be thinking about you each and every day.”

  Her smile reappeared. “Are you going to write me?”

  “As often as I can. And if you need anything, you can send a note to Upper Angle. I’ll make sure the king’s staff knows where I am.”

  She frowned again.

  He stroked the side of her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid. I know I sound crazy, but I think something bad is going to happen to you.”

  “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  “Your father isn’t asking you to go kill somebody, is he? You’re only training, right?”

  The serving girl brought Edris another beer. He thanked her and gave her a couple coins. The serving girl winked at him.

  “You know me, Bea,” he said once the serving girl had gone. He took a long drink. “I’d never do something like that.”

  “But your father told you—”

  “Don’t worry about him.” A patron patted Edris on the shoulder as he staggered by. Edris waited for him to get out of earshot before whispering, “I’m not like him.”

  “I know, but…”

  “I’m never going to be like him. Okay? There’s a right way to live your life and a wrong way.” He made her look at him. “I’m not going to kill somebody in order
to please my father. I want to live with honor.”

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I’m with you and I have a book of poetry.” He kissed her. “How can I not be happy?”

  Nine

  Edris stood in the crowded corridor outside the throne room. He had introduced himself to one of the royal door wardens and presented his father’s letter. Now he had to wait with the hundred other people petitioning to see the king.

  As he strolled about, pretending to study the busts of some long-forgotten nobles, the gilded double doors opened. Then King Michael of The Angle issued forth, followed closely by two bodyguards in brightly polished plate mail. The king scanned the throng scrambling to kneel before him. His gaze fell upon Edris, passed Edris by, and then returned to him. The king’s brows furrowed.

  “Eddie?” Before Edris could answer, the king hurried to him, hand extended. “By the gods, look at you!”

  Bowing, Edris shook the king’s hand. “Your Highness.”

  The king retreated a step, marveling at Edris’s immense size. “Last time I saw you, you hardly came up to my waist.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s been a while.”

  “Indeed! Too long.” To everybody’s astonishment, the king threw his arms around Edris and hugged him.

  The king wasn’t a short man by any means. In fact, he was taller than most, with a tightly knit build still firm with muscles. But as he hugged Edris, His Majesty’s head barely reached his nephew’s chin.

  The king stepped back again. “By the gods!”

  Edris never knew what to say to these sorts of comments. He’d been big his entire life; though, granted, when he was younger, he was a tad on the chunky side. So, he stood, saying nothing, as His Majesty inspected him.

  “I understand you’re here to study before enlisting,” the king said.

  “Yes, sir. If you’d allow me the honor of having access to your library.”

  “Of course! I have an extensive array of books and treatises on military matters that will interest you. You know, there’s no better weapon a man can wield than a sharp mind.”

  “Yes, sir,” Edris replied, still standing at attention. “My father says the same thing.”

  “Splendid! Come with me.” The king strode through the passageway, heedless of the many bows and curtsies given to him. “I want to introduce you to some of our men. I believe you’ll enjoy their comradeship while you’re here. They can also help get you ready for your service.”

  Edris followed the king, painfully aware of the two guards behind them, their plate mail and weapons clanking as they marched.

  “How’s your father?” the king asked. “Come beside me. No need for court formality.”

  Quickening his pace, Edris walked alongside the king. “My father is…” He struggled to find a proper response. He wanted to say “bitter” or “spiteful,” but neither was appropriate.

  His Majesty chuckled. “I know what you’re trying to say. Don’t worry about misleading me.”

  They turned down another corridor, its grey stone walls covered with bejeweled tapestries of red and gold.

  “Your father is a good man,” the king went on. “I know things haven’t been easy for him since my sister passed.”

  Edris had never known his mother. She’d died giving birth to him. And the topic often brought swells of guilt and pain stabbing deep within him.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wish your father and I were closer. But perhaps your being here will provide the kindling our relationship needs. I tell you; it’ll be wonderful to see you around these halls again.”

  “Yes, sir.” Then, thinking he needed to ask something of the king, Edris added quickly, “How are Merrick, Morris, Markus, and Mariam?”

  “Merrick is in Hillshire, courting the Lady Louisa.”

  “Hillshire?” Edris found himself saying. Raaf was from Hillshire. He wondered if that was a coincidence.

  “Indeed. It’ll be a good match if they can learn to live with each other. I’ve long wanted to reinforce the bonds between our two realms since we share a common border. And Lady Louisa is appealing enough.”

  If his boasts were true, Edris’s eldest brother, Edran, had slept with Lady Louisa on multiple occasions.

  “Yes, sir,” Edris said. “I hope they’ll be very happy together. And the others?”

  “Morris is studying the law codes in Eryn Mas, though I daresay he’s most likely drinking and whoring more than studying. I wish he had your dedication to learning.”

  “I’ve done my share of such things as well.”

  The king chortled. “Haven’t we all? What’s the point of being noble?” He sighed. “At least Markus is making something of himself. However, I hardly get to see him these days. He’s always off adventuring.”

  “Yes, please congratulate him on his last win. The Necklace of Peneli, I believe. You must be proud.”

  The king lit up with delight. “I am! Ask him about it when you see him. He narrowly survived, by all accounts.”

  “When I see him?” Edris asked, trying to be subtle. “So, he’s in Upper Angle?”

  “Yes, he’s here. Though he’s liable to disappear at a moment’s notice, I’m afraid.”

  “And Mariam?” Edris asked, considering what the king had said about Markus. “She’s still living with you? Is she well?”

  They went through a doorway and entered a large courtyard, bright with the afternoon sun. Across the way, a company of men wearing the king’s tabard stood outside the stables, whooping and cheering.

  “Oh, you know young women,” the king said, heading toward the commotion.

  “Not as well as I’d like, sir.”

  The king laughed. Many of the men in the courtyard snapped to attention.

  “I know the feeling!” he replied. “So, you’re still single?”

  “I am.”

  “Wise,” the king told him, approaching the shouting men. “Best to focus on career and fortune before turning your thoughts to love.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Before them, in the stable yard encircled by brawny kingsmen, a shirtless man was being propelled forward as though he were a wheelbarrow, while others shoveled great heaps of horse manure on him. The guard holding his feet sped up, driving the wheelbarrow man’s head into a reeking pile of dung. The onlookers who hadn’t seen the king hooted and jeered. Some threw feces.

  “Kriton,” the king called.

  Leaning against a fence railing, the Captain of the Guard turned. Seeing who approached, he stood erect and saluted—as did the rest of his men, even the one being used as a wheelbarrow. Through the smears of horse manure, Edris could see his face. He was Douglas, the fourth son of Lord Denton.

  “I would like you to meet Edris,” the king said. “He’ll be joining your company in the spring. Eddie, this is Captain Kriton.”

  Kriton shook Edris’s hand. “Edris?” Kriton’s polite smile broadened into something more mischievous. “Lord Elros’s son? I’ve heard of you. You’re supposed to be a hell of a fighter.” His hand tightened around Edris’s.

  “I can hold my own,” Edris said, ignoring the captain’s crushing grip.

  “Can you?”

  Edris held Kriton’s gaze. “Absolutely.”

  Kriton squeezed Edris’s hand harder. “Excellent!” He let go. “We’re always looking for men of worth to mold.”

  “Yes,” the king said. “Eddie will undoubtedly be an asset to your company.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be very entertaining,” Kriton said.

  Several men snickered.

  “To demonstrate his enthusiasm for his chosen profession,” the king went on, evidently heedless of the hungry glances slipped in Edris’s direction, “he’s decided to come here early and study a bit, military strategy and so forth. Are there any books you’d recommend he delve into?”

  “Books?” Kriton repeated, surprised. “No, Your Highness. I believe we can teach the lord’s son everything he need
s to know. Work hard—and do whatever he’s told.”

  Manure dripped from Douglas’s face. Judging from his swollen eyes, he’d been beaten.

  “Yes, well,” the king said, “there’s that, isn’t there? However, if you think of anything that might be useful, please let Eddie know. He’ll be staying in the guest house.”

  “Sounds comfortable,” Kriton said, staring at Edris.

  “I’m sure it is,” Edris replied, returning the glare.

  “Very good. Thank you for your time.” The king gestured to a many-windowed tower across the courtyard. “Let me show you the library, Eddie. It’s right this way.”

  Edris shook the captain’s hand again.

  “Pleasure meeting you,” he said, squeezing.

  Kriton winced in pain, then scowled. “The pleasure will be mine—Eddie.”

  Ten

  Edris sat at the long wooden table where the elderly scholar told him to wait. Moaning, he put his head in his hands. What was he was supposed to do now? He loved to read. He might even enjoy reading about military strategy. But his real mission wasn’t to sit around a stuffy library. He had to figure out how to “deal with” Markus—whatever that meant.

  Markus…

  How do you stop an adventurer from winning any more quests?

  Maybe he should forget about his father’s vendetta and focus on preparing to be a kingsman.

  Kingsman…

  Clearly, things hadn’t gone well with Captain Kriton. Edris should’ve been politer. Maybe he could buy him a drink or two. That usually helped. Kingsmen always drank like fish. After a few pitchers, they’d be laughing about what had happened.

  Then he recalled Douglas’s face.

  Why did he allow himself to be used as a wheelbarrow? And the piles of shit? He was noble. Where was his dignity?

  Edris thought about the king. He’d treated him with more than courtly courtesy. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make him feel like long-lost family. Still, he couldn’t have been blind to what was happening to Douglas. He let a fellow noble be used as a damned wheelbarrow and didn’t say a word.

  What would Edris have done if he were Douglas? Would he go along and pretend it was all fun and games?

  He pictured Douglas spitting and wiping manure from his mouth.