Fallen King

by Olive Creed

  Torrin risked looking up. Only two of the strangers remained, standing at sword-point and bleeding from various wounds. One lay dead on the ground, the rest were gone. They must’ve escaped out the broken window.

  He pushed the limp body off and yelped when he saw who it was. Panic washed over him as he grabbed his brother’s arm. “Lox—” Torrin stared in horror at the slit in his throat. “No. No, no, no.” Hot tears chased each other down his face.

  His parents. His brother. His family.

  A shudder wracked his body, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. A sick feeling spread through him—a mix of emptiness, fear, and fury.

  Why? Why had they been killed?

  Why had he survived?

  Ryan put his arm around Torrin’s shoulders, holding him still. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  Fezzik Ingo, the Captain of the Guard, turned to some of his men. “Take Prince Torrin to his room. Do not leave his side until I personally tell you to.” He pointed to a few others. “You three, spread the word. I want every soldier scouring the grounds. Make sure there are no others. The rest of you, come with me.” He glanced briefly at the captured men and sighed. “We’ll lock these up tight. Interrogate them later.”

  Ryan pulled Torrin to his feet, dragging him out of his parents’ room. It was all he could do to blindly stumble along.

  Torrin sat in front of the fireplace, shivering despite the heat scorching his back. Ryan sat beside him, an arm around his shoulders. One guard paced the room while the second leaned against the door.

  “Don’t worry, your Highness. We’ll catch the rest of them and then you’ll be safe.”

  No sooner had the guard spoken than a rock smashed through the window. Torrin jerked away from the shower of broken glass, nearly knocking Ryan into the fire.

  The soldier at the door stepped forward, one hand on his sword. “Check that out,” he whispered.

  The second soldier nodded, easing towards the window with his crossbow at the ready. A long reptilian tail shot through the broken glass before he’d made it to the window, wrapping around his neck and yanking him out. Torrin leaped to his feet as a small Elyndian boy jumped in, throwing a dagger into the second soldier’s chest.

  Torrin ran for the door, but a mottled gray dragon leaped in front, fangs bared in a snarl. Long ears lay plastered back against its skull. Something moved in Torrin’s peripheral and he jumped back to avoid the long tail, stumbling into Ryan. The kid darted over to the door, yanking his dagger out of the dead soldier’s chest as he went, and jammed it into the lock.

  “A camlon,” Ryan whispered in awe.

  Torrin almost rolled his eyes. Now was not the time to be getting excited over a dragon. The kid faced them and he swallowed, pushing Ryan behind him. “Who are you?”

  What was going on?

  The kid rushed them, stabbing towards Torrin’s stomach. They jumped to different sides. He effortlessly spun the dagger around in his hand and stabbed backwards, the tip of the blade slicing across Torrin’s tunic. Ryan grabbed his other arm, twisting it behind his back. Torrin rushed in, grabbing the kid’s hand and wrenching the dagger away.

  The camlon—who had been sitting impatiently beside the dead soldier—roared and lunged forward.

  Ryan yanked the dagger from Torrin and pressed its blade against the kid’s neck. The dragon stopped, scurrying backwards, scales flickering from gray to red.

  The knob on Torrin’s bedroom door rattled. “Prince Torrin?” Captain Fezzik’s voice was strained. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m alright.” He shifted behind the kid slightly. “A kid and his dragon killed the soldiers. We’ve got him between us and the dragon. I think we’re safe for now.” Surely the dragon wouldn’t attack them and risk endangering its rider.

  The dragon’s scales flickered through different colors, ears twitching. Ryan cocked his head towards the shattered window. “Do you hear that?”

  “Howling?” Torrin tightened his grip on the kid. “Is that—”

  “More dragons. Sounds like they’re coming here—must be more of those riders.” Ryan elbowed him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Captain Fezzik!” Torrin yelled over the rattling of the door. “Ryan and I are coming. The door’s locked with a dagger, I’ll have to yank it out. And we hear more dragons.”

  “One of my men just reported that the men who escaped are coming on dragons,” Captain Fezzik replied. “We have shields and crossbows at the ready. Come out quickly before they get here!”

  “No thanks. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather stay and get cooked,” Ryan muttered under his breath. The kid jerked, then froze when the movement caused the blade to nick his skin. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  They’d reached the door by then. Torrin turned to yank out the dagger. At the same time, Ryan’s voice “Look out!” The kid jerked away and a burst of fire came rolling towards them. Glass shattered and dragons shrieked as Torrin and Ryan dove to the floor. The door flew open and three Elyndian guards jumped inside. Shields dropped down just in time to meet the scorching flames. Hands grabbed Torrin’s legs and dragged him into the hallway as more soldiers fired crossbows into the room.

  Within seconds, it was over. The dragons and kid were gone. A handful of soldiers hurried to stomp out the few pieces of furniture that had caught fire.

  “I believe it will be best to have you sleep in the great hall until we can be sure there will be no more attacks, Prince Torrin.” Captain Fezzik helped Torrin up. “It will be harder for another assassin or a dragon to get to you in there.”

  “Of course.” His head spun and he would have toppled over if Ryan hadn’t grabbed his arm. Murders, dragons, people killed before his very eyes. His family gone, his life almost taken.

  What next?

  ~ One Week Later ~

  Lord Malkiel paced the courtroom. Armed guards stood stationed about the room--three behind Torrin, two by the doors, and one under each window. Ryan stood beside Torrin, a sword strapped to his waist. Ever since the attack, he’d insisted on being armed and serving as a bodyguard. He glanced at Torrin and tried to smile encouragingly, but the worry lines etched deep into his face stole any cheer.

  Torrin looked over at the sound of doors opening, watching as the members of the Council filed in. Most of them were old enough to be his grandfather and some were almost as young as Loxen had been.

  Torrin swallowed, dropping his gaze down to his lap as they took their seats.

  “As you know, one week ago, our castle was invaded and our beloved king, queen, and crown prince were murdered.” Lord Malkiel cleared his throat. “I know Torrin is young and wasn’t trained to become king, but—”

  “But he is the last surviving Slater,” Westin croaked, running his hand over his snowy white beard. He was the oldest man in the Council, probably in all Elyndia. “It is his right to the throne.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Lord Caleb glanced at Torrin sympathetically. “Torrin, Thion was like a brother to me and I’ve always viewed you as family. So please, do not take this the wrong way.”

  Torrin stared at him for a moment before Ryan cleared his throat. He realized with a start that Lord Caleb was waiting for permission for him to continue and nodded, trying to smile.

  Lord Caleb turned to face the Council. “His age is not an issue. There have been boys younger than him who have taken the throne. But they had been trained to be king at a young age and most of them had their retired fathers to guide them.” He rubbed his hand on his trousers. “I believe it would be wise for someone we all know and trust to take the throne and teach Torrin how to be king. Then in a few years, we can place the crown on Torrin’s head.”

  A few nodded their agreement. Westin stood, leaning heavily on his staff. “I do not mean to quarrel; you are all good men.” He glanced around the room at everyone. “But it is right to put Torrin on the throne. We can offer advice and train him, but h
e is destined to become king.” His brown eyes met Torrin’s and he smiled gently before easing back into his chair.

  A soldier, only a few years older than Loxen had been, stood. “I agree with Westin. For a reason only God knows, Torrin was not harmed in the attack. And we all know Westin speaks with wisdom given only by God. If he says Torrin is destined to be king, then I believe him.”

  Lord Malkiel nodded. “I am inclined to agree with you. We can offer advice and guidance.” He paused, rubbing the side of his nose. “If everyone here is in agreement, Torrin will become our new king.”

  “Wait a moment.” Lord Kaze jumped to his feet. “Now, I’ve been sitting here and listening and I know that you, Westin, speak with God-given wisdom. But that doesn’t mean that everything you say is from, or inspired by, God.” He looked around. “I’m with Lord Caleb. We should put someone on the throne who has more experience leading people. Not a young boy who lets his servant persuade him into doing things.”

  Ryan started forward and Torrin jumped up, pulling him back. “Don’t argue,” he said firmly. “You know he’s just blunt and straightforward. He doesn’t mean to insult anyone.”

  “Sure sounds like he’s trying his best,” Ryan snapped.

  Torrin jabbed his finger into his friend’s chest. “You want to be my bodyguard, right? Then you must learn to control that impulsive nature of yours. And this is the perfect time to practice.”

  He scowled and crossed his arms, looking very much like a pouting toddler, but nodded. “I’ll do it. I won’t blow up no matter what he says. Even though someone could stand to teach him a few manners.”

  Torrin rolled his eyes and turned back to the conversation.

  “We are all aware of their mischief,” Lord Malkiel said. “Were you ever perfect? Especially when you were young and had friends?”

  Lord Kaze frowned. “No, I was never perfect. But I wasn’t going to be a king either.”

  “No king is perfect,” Westin put in quietly. “Thion Slater wasn’t a perfect king, but he was a God-fearing king. That is what Elyndia needs.”

  “That doesn’t mean we put Torrin on the throne,” Lord Kaze argued.

  “Who else?” Ryan demanded before Torrin could stop him. He purposefully ignored the death glare sent his way. “Are you saying we should put you on the throne?”

  Lord Kaze’s face turned a light shade of red. “See? He can’t even control his own servant.”

  “That’s enough,” Torrin snapped. “Your opinion is valued in the Council Meetings, but I must request that you express yourself like a gentleman and lord, not a hot-tempered young man.”

  “Good job,” Ryan whispered. “Very kingly.”

  Torrin had a suspicion he’d started arguing with Lord Kaze just to get him involved. He sighed. “I can’t promise to be perfect, but I can promise to seek the approval of the Council and to learn. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready to do my best.”

  “And what more can we ask for?” Lord Malkiel met and held Lord Kaze’s gaze.

  “An experienced man to lead this country,” Lord Kaze muttered.

  “Are any of us experienced with leading a country?” Lord Caleb shot back. “We lead towns, yes, but the people followed the late King Thion’s laws and our towns are peaceful. There is a difference between ruling a small town and ruling an entire country.”

  “But we have more experience,” Lord Kaze insisted.

  “And it is Torrin’s destiny to rule over Elyndia,” Westin put in.

  “It appears you are the only one holding us back from electing our new king,” one of the soldiers said quietly.

  Lord Kaze sighed. “I believe we’re making a mistake in putting a boy on the throne. But if everyone else is set on doing so, then let’s crown him.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Torrin saw Ryan’s scowl deepen, but he didn’t say anything, for which Torrin was extremely grateful.

  Westin creaked to his feet, hobbling across the room to stand in front of the young prince. “Do you promise before the Council and before God, to rule to the best of your ability, to follow God, to honor Him in everything you do? To rule fairly, to obey the law?”

  Torrin met his gaze, swallowing hard. Could he do this? Lead people? If God wanted him to be king, then He would give him the wisdom he needed, right?

  Ryan clapped his shoulder and grinned encouragingly.

  Torrin swallowed again and nodded.

  “It will not be easy,” Westin said quietly. “It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But fulfilling what God has called you to do, it will make all the hardship worth it.” He leaned forward, tapping Torrin’s chest. “Use the love and compassion He gave you,” he rested his hand on his head, “and the wisdom and cleverness as well.”

  When he backed up, Torrin stood and knelt before him. Westin laid his hand on his shoulder and everyone bowed their heads to pray, to ask God to lead Torrin in a long and peaceful reign. Then Lord Caleb carried over Thion’s crown, a simple band of gold with small white diamonds held between arches.

  It seemed so much bigger now that it was his.

  Westin placed it on his head. And just like that, Torrin was king.

  ~ Two Years Later ~

  “Your Majesty, surrendering to the Achians would probably be the wisest thing to do.”

  Torrin clenched his hands. Several days ago, news had reached them that Gilel, the town closest to the borders, had been overtaken by the Achians and Lord Caleb killed. Since then, he, his captains, and the two remaining lords had been discussing the best course of action.

  Ryan stood behind his throne, arms crossed and thankfully saying nothing. Earlier, he’d told Torrin that he would back him up on whatever choice was made. Words couldn’t describe how grateful Torrin was for his support—especially in the face of an oncoming battle.

  Lord Kaze leaned forward in his chair; his elbows rested on his knees. “I agree with Lord Malkiel. Surrendering is the only wise course of action.”

  “This is King Corynth we’re talking about,” Captain Fezzik put in. “He’s a bloody tyrant and he’ll kill King Torrin and anyone else he suspects will stand against him. Not to mention ban our beliefs and practices.”

  “What can he do that isn’t already being done?” Lord Kaze didn’t look up, but Torrin still flinched.

  “I didn’t order the Bibles stolen or those men executed,” Torrin said coldly.

  “Strange how we would start losing prominent Believers and our Bibles right after you became king.”

  “Kaze, it is beyond foolishness that you would accuse King Torrin of persecuting the faith when he himself is a believer.” Malkiel shook his head. “Something else is up. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the Achians were behind it.”

  “Either way,” Captain Fezzik said, “we have a decision to make. Fight or surrender?”

  They all glanced at Torrin. He swallowed. A king was supposed to lay down his life for his country, for his people. A cold finger of fear trailed its way up his spine. He couldn’t do that. He’d heard the stories of King Corynth. He tortured his prisoners until they begged for death, then threw them to his dragons.

  “I for one am not afraid to go to battle,” Ryan stated. “I can’t and won’t stand by and watch some jasper take over my home. Bad enough having my best friend rule it.” He whacked the back of Torrin’s head to let him know he was trying to lighten the mood.

  “And I don’t intend to just hand over my country to anyone.”

  “So, you’ll lead us into battle?” Lord Kaze huffed. “Might I remind everyone that I was in favor of putting someone more experienced on the throne. Not some rash child.”

  Torrin lifted his chin, glaring at him. “I do not intend to make a rash decision, Lord Kaze. But I certainly do not want to hand my people over to a king who is up to his neck in the slave market.” He turned to Captain Fezzik. “How strong an army are we talking about?”

  He hesitated, stroking his thick brown beard. “
According to the scouts, roughly two thousand. Couple hundred more, maybe.”

  Elyndia’s army was two thousand strong, but mostly made up of farmers, blacksmiths, and an assortment of others. They were well trained, but not highly skilled soldiers. “Do you think our men have a chance?”

  “While we do not have experience like they do, our men are strong and well trained. I believe we stand as good a chance as any, your Majesty.”

  “But don’t forget the dragons,” Lord Kaze pointed out.

  “Have the archers shoot them down. They must fly close to use their fire. When they come in low, shoot them out of the sky.” Torrin swallowed and hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. Was he making a mistake by going to war? Should he just surrender and pray that King Corynth would have mercy?

  No. Torrin gave himself a mental shake. He was just nervous about leading his people into the first battle in his two-year reign.

  Ryan cleared his throat. “King, there’s an apprentice healer by the name of Zeno,” he said under his breath. “He’s from Achia, so he’d know what their king is really like. I could have him brought up here an’ you could ask him some questions.”

  “Good idea, bodyguard.” He swatted Ryan’s back as he left to send a servant to find this Zeno character.

  Several minutes later, Ryan ushered in a nervous-looking young man. Torrin figured him to be in his early twenties, with the customary dark hair and skin of his country. He was slightly taller than normal, but with the same blunt facial features and hefty build of the Achians—much more muscular than Torrin would expect of a healer. He nodded at Torrin and glanced around the table and the other men. Ryan cleared his throat and Zeno hastily bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  Torrin nodded. “Zeno. I hear you came from Achia and might know some about King Corynth?”

  He nodded. “Yes sire, your highness. I know ‘im.”

  “Majesty,” Ryan coughed into his fist.

  Zeno paled. “Your Majesty.”

  Torrin suppressed a smile. “Care to tell us anything that might help?”