Yet what really began to bug him was that he was sure he heard soft breathing coming from somewhere behind him. He looked back as inconspicuously as he could, so as not to attract his companion's notice, but he saw nothing. He shook his head and tried to block out the noises. But the breathing seemed to get louder and he thought surely Terragone could hear it now too. He looked back into the brush again and this time with less fear of being seen. He saw nothing, but Terragone had noticed him this time, and was now walking over to where James sat.
“Did you hear something?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“Several thing's actually.” James answered.
“And what did they sound like?” Terragone asked as he stretched and yawned.
“Breathing. But can't you hear it?”
Terragone relaxed himself instantly and became perfectly silent for a moment. “No, I can't. But that's alright. Breathing you say? Your own perhaps?”
James just glared and looked slightly embarrassed for he no longer heard the soft breaths anymore either, “Well, I did hear something.”
“Of course you did.” Terragone smiled condescendingly and held out his hand to help James up.
“Oh no. Go ahead without me. I think I'll stay here longer. I'll be along shortly.” James pushed away the hand and stubbornly straightened his back, his eyes set on the distant horizon.
“Have it your way. But no tricks.” and with that soft but genuine warning, Terragone strode off.
James rolled his eyes, but almost instantly he wished he'd gone with Terragone. He was weaponless and defenseless and too near the renown Tanlyiere for that to be at all safe. He stood up and waited a few minutes. He still had his dignity, and though he was increasingly uneasy, he would not lower himself to rushing madly after Terragone. He would return to the others calmly, with all of his superiority in tact, but he would have to wait just a few minutes.
So he waited, but as he waited, that disturbing breathing could be heard again, be it ever so faintly. Shivers ran down his spine and he reconsidered the whole running to find Terragone thing. Maybe pride wasn’t worth the risk to life. He turned to face the trees behind him, that narrow path through them looking haunted now. Well, perhaps it was just some small animal. He swallowed, looked once more at the view behind him, and then stalked bravely into the brush.
It was dark under the trees and James had to pause a moment to let his eyes adjust. The last thing he needed was to stumble into the undergrowth and get stuck. But his over sensitive nerves were telling him he was being watched. He didn’t know from where or by whom, but he knew something was looking at him. He turned in every direction, looking for what it was, be it bird or beast, but saw nothing.
“You stupid nerves!” he chided himself, forcing himself to keep moving, “You'll be the death of me one of these days.”
The air felt oppressive under the trees, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Something was out there and it wanted to get him.
“There is nothing out there.” he repeated to himself several times, “I would've seen it if there were.” But he didn’t believe himself.
A shadow fell across a patch of sun streaming down through the foliage above. James refused to scream or jump or even stop and look around. Instead, he picked up his pace. A soft thud sounded behind him and this time he really did have to stop and see what it was. As he went to turn his head, however, a hand was clapped to his mouth and someone grabbed his arm. He was stunned of course, but he began to have an ugly feeling that Terragone or one of the others was playing some sort of trick on him. The grip was vice-like though and he was literally dragged back and down into a particularly dark cluster of trees. Surely no one in the company would treat him like this. And yet, he would rather believe that then that he was being kidnapped.
Once completely in the shadows, he was released, only to then be pinned to the ground by a hand on his shoulder. He slowly moved his head around to look at who was above him, and his eyes met a deep darkness. The silhouette of a stranger, and in that shadow, the only thing James could discern was a flashing pair of burning black eyeholes.
—————
James calmly rejoined the group a good twenty minutes later. The fellows all smiled or waved when they saw him return and continued on packing up the horses. James sauntered over to Frederick and began packing up the few things he had taken off. Terragone, who was passing, nodded semi-amiably at him.
Sir Lavison, who was already packed up, rode up, “Where've you been?”
“Just enjoying the view above the ridge.” James answered quickly.
“We figured, but you were up there so long. Terragone was getting worried, I could tell by the look on his face. Was it really quite lovely? If there was time I'd have gone up to see, but Terragone wants to move out now.”
He concluded without waiting for a response and rode off to find the prince.
James swallowed, jumped up on Frederick, and followed the general moving-out of the group.
He ended up riding next to Fife and his second cousin, Teale, who also was a servant in the king's service. They had both noticed that James was more quiet and subdued than normal, and were prodding him for the reason.
“Well, lads,” James said, trying to sound lively, “if you'd seen the view, you'd want some time to reflect as well. It was…stunning.”
“You've a seen nice views before and you’ve never needed to reflect about it after.” Teale noted.
“But you didn't see this one, now did you?” James answered with a jab.
“I suppose not.” Teale conceded, wishing this didn't have to be true.
“It must have really been something, Mr. Redmond, if it’s struck even you quiet.” Fife added. Fife started calling James 'Mr. Redmond' as soon as he'd learned James’ last name and that ‘mr.’ was a respectful title in James’ world.
“It was quite nice. But now, if you don't mind, I believe I'll take to the rear for awhile.”
This was altogether unlike James. He rarely chose to be by himself due to his fear of the unknown and the possibility of wild animal attacks. He also loved to talk too much to be alone for long. Frederick worked fine for a companion in a pinch, but the animal was amazingly unresponsive.
So it was that James brought about his own downfall in the group. His behavior would quickly become grounds for suspicion as the company would begin to question his innocence.
In fact, it had already begun. Up at the front of the procession, Terragone and Sir Lavison were having a heated discussion about James and his odd behavior.
“Terragone, really!” Sir Lavison exclaimed, “He's just a little old man! What has he ever done to warrant this unjust treatment? He's been with us for weeks now and he's been perfectly lovely.”
Terragone’s stern face turned towards his friend. “Then why, if he's so innocent, is he acting so strange now, after the first time we left him on his own for an extended time? Something's not right in that deceptive face, and trust me, I know a guilty face when I see one.”
Sir Lavison gave a harsh short laugh, “Oh you do? Well, why did you let him come along in the first place?”
“I said we'd give him a chance. Until today I had no real complaint in any of his conduct, but I have always been watching him. And today, something changed. I should not have left him on the ridge, that was my fault. And what's come of it? That I'm not yet certain about, but to be sure he's hiding something or other. Why, he won’t even look any of us square in the eye when we ask him about what took him so long up there.”
“I don't suppose it occurred to you that he could've just been enjoying the view?” Sir Lavison suggested dryly.
“He was weary of it two minutes after I brought him up. He sat down and was quiet for a bit, but he got bored and resorted to pretending to hear things again. I left shortly after that and he stayed because he was mad at me for mocking him. But he was up there much longer than I expected. Particularly given how afraid he is of everythin
g.” Terragone seemed quite vexed with himself.
“But what exactly are you suspicious of? What could he have possibly done?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that he’s hiding something, and that it doesn’t bode well for us.”
Sir Lavison shook his head in exasperation, “You’re beginning to sound like James himself, with all his imaginary monsters.”
Terragone looked gave him a dark look and kicked his horse, speeding ahead, away from the knight.
Sir Lavison shrugged and waited as Sir Kessil rode up to him.
“What do you think James was up to being gone so long?” he asked as soon as his friend drew alongside him, needing to strengthen his stance.
“I think he lost something and had to find it. Or maybe even got lost himself. However, I’ve heard that it's a breathtaking view, so maybe he was just enjoying it and lost track of the time.”
Sir Lavison smiled smugly and nodded, “My thoughts exactly.”
“Where's his highness off to?” Sir Kessil asked as he saw his liege sprinting off in the distance.
“He wanted to be by himself, I suppose. Much like James. Ironic isn't it?”
“What's is?”
“Nevermind.” and Sir Lavison kept is irony to himself, “But remind me if we ever stop by a lake again to ask James to show you his stone skipping trick. It’s quite amazing. The stone actually bounces over the surface of the water like an insect.”
“Sounds very strange indeed, but Master Redmond is a rather strange person.” and Sir Kessil grinned for he, like all the rest, found James delightfully peculiar.
Sir Lavison grinned too and watched as the prince gradually slowed down, “That he is. Most strange indeed.”
13
The Kings of the World
King Harvest set down the letter from the King of Essa. Why did they bother? The older he got the less he cared about even keeping up this pretense. Ozival despised him but Harvest didn’t care. The man had an attitude towards him like that of a snooty older brother. Condescending. And they were old now. Neither really cared about the other except as a measure with which to compare themselves against. Harvest shook his head and slid the letter further away. Ozival didn’t care about his new castle. That was obvious. But worse than that, he seemed to caution Harvest against it. As if he had a right. And the way he then proceeded to give his whole attention to this little feud between Thaxa and Falair, it was ridiculous. It was normal for those two nations to fight. Harvest suspected they even enjoyed it. Problem with Ozival was that he was too removed to notice that. He judged everyone from his high horse and never got down to really see what was actually going on. Still, Harvest wasn’t one to let a prude and snob steal his time and attention for long.
He picked up a far more interesting note he had been handed just minutes before. A request for an audience from a stranger who had just arrived from the west. Slightly suspicious since he had given little enough information about himself, but Harvest could hardly refuse whoever it was. He was too curious now.
—————
Thaxa lay west of the Jagged Mountains and south of Falair. It was a rugged country and it was not just the nature of the land that was rough-hewn and wild. The citizens were marked by similar traits as the country they lived in. Thaxans were big and burly folk. Their main exports were timber and coal, and their people were marked by the strength and agility of long-time loggers and deep-mountain miners.
Zanther was Thaxa’s king. His castle was currently near the northern border, the one he and the king of Falair were fighting over. The impressive structure he called home was made almost entirely out of huge dark timbers, and it was quite different than any of the other king’s castles. Because everything was made of wood and timber, the whole castle could be moved from place to place. Zanther always had to be near the center of action in his kingdom, and so had constructed a citadel that could move with him. Right now, that meant living on the northern border, as he staved off his thieving bloke of a neighbor.
Zanther himself could not remember a time when he and Kasteyn or Kasteyn's father hadn’t been at odds about one thing or another, but this particular time it was getting quite touchy. It didn't help anything that Zanther had reason to suppose his opponent would receive a visit from the son of the wealthiest king in the land. It irked and upset him and he had given himself hair-splitting headaches trying to think of ways to get prince Terragone to detour to Thaxa instead. It didn’t bode him well to have one of the most influential leader’s son sympathizing with the enemy. To further complicate his plans, rumor had it that some new and strange evil had come to inhabit the lesser Tanlyiere. It was still but a rumor, and a rumor may be nothing more than a fancy at its origin, but if even a shadow of this rumor came to prince Terragone’s ears he would most certainly not detour to Thaxa. The lesser Tanlyiere was not as mysterious or dark as the greater Tanlyiere, and it was where they got all their lumber, but it still carried a lot of unfortunate folklore that made most people suspicious of it.
Zanther was at his wit’s end on how to handle the delicate situation and was on the brink of keeling over to his ill-fated fortune and choosing to embrace more underhanded tactics to get his way.
At the moment, he was storming around his castle in worry and frustration. He was stout in form and feature, though still powerful for all that, as his anger made him incredibly fierce. His face was scarlet, whether by nature or in rage, I know not, and his thick fingers were rumpling up his thick, colorless hair into a style of absurdity. After effectively ruining his appearance, he took to squeezing his fleshy nose until that particularly prominent feature turned purple. He then rubbed it until it was the more natural red the rest of his face was, before returning to ruffling his bedraggled head again.
A servant stepped up to his highness and bowed curtly.
“A missive, sire.” and the young man dutifully laid the paper on a designated tray near the king, bowed again, and trotted away.
After pursing his lips and staring hard at the cream slip of paper, Zanther shot his hand forward, snatched it up, and tore the seal off with a burst of violent energy. His eyes roved rapidly over the few even lines of writing. At its conclusion, he took the paper roughly in both hands and tore the thing to shreds. His blood-shot eyes then watched as the tiny flecks floated to the floor. When the last speck had landed, he put one heavy boot down atop the heap and ground the bits to naught. After that, he gave a snort like that of an enraged stallion and yelped for a messenger. In response, three rushed in and stood obediently to command at will.
You might be wondering how this king got any men to work or fight for him, but you see, to their way of thinking, they were fighting for Thaxa, not particularly the sovereign who ruled it. The kings would change or die and the people cared not, so long as Thaxa flourished and retained its liberty.
Zanther wasted no time in pleasantries, “Go get Bergmum, and send him to me immediately. The other two of you can tell Weiser to prepare the troops for an action. Now go! Now! Go now!” and the three men scurried off.
Zanther stalked the room restlessly. So it was final? That brute had sent and invited the prince Terragone of Gailli to his realm. But not only this, for the wretched note, from one of his most reliable spies, had come with two stings. That two-faced serpent had sent for his northern troops, an army twice the size of the one he now used. Zanther had been planning an attack on four of Kasteyn's outermost watchtowers for weeks and now he realized he must strike soon, before these new recruits came. The added troops would greatly hinder his plans, if not spoil them altogether. It also created a dire need for his own ranks to be replenished. He would need to issue a conscription to muster up enough men to even out the odds he was forced into.
He ground his right fist into his left palm and called once more for a man. One came presently, heard his majesty's plan for the conscription, bowed, and then left to write such an order to the able men of Thaxa. Zanther ran his hand once again thr
ough his matted hair, before he too stalked out of the room and down to the dining hall.
—————
And what of king Kasteyn of Falair?
To be sure Kasteyn was not stalking about, fuming and giving himself headaches. He was a man of business and didn’t waste a moment of time that could be used to his advantage. His young blood ran fiery in his veins as he appointed captains for his growing armies, planned routes of attack, researched various methods of defense, and dictated letters to all and any who would side with him, all while thoroughly conducting all his other kingly responsibilities. Not an empty moment slipped by the determined lord. His kingdom's walls rang with the continual sound of men in training, blacksmiths forging, carpenters building, and messengers running to and fro.
Kasteyn had just received the unfortunate news that two of his finest watchtowers had been totally demolished and that the two guards had been killed. The messenger who brought this news, said it was highly probable that the two remaining border towers would be sieged and destroyed before the week was out. Kasteyn's fresh armies hadn’t come yet however, and little could be done that hadn't already be done to protect his stake on the southern border. He sent what he could spare to each of the remaining towers, and hoped for the best.
In a strange way, Kasteyn took the news rather well. This outrage of his enemy was rather uncalled for and would almost certainly guarantee Falair the support of Gailli. This was the tipping point between a heated disagreement and a serious war. It would also give him particular pleasure to be the one to get to write the declaration of war. Indeed that is just what he did as soon as he made plans for the two remaining watchtowers. His highness, the King Zanther, would have a nice little surprise waiting for him in next morning’s post.
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