The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

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The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 45

by Paul Lauritsen


  Chapter 37

  Relam hardly slept that night. He woke three times, listening for some phantom noise that had stirred him from his slumber, waiting for it to repeat itself. But no sound was forthcoming, and he drifted back to sleep over and over.

  Finally, an hour after dawn, Relam woke for good and rolled out of bed. He dressed slowly, stumbled to the door, and pulled it open.

  The main room was empty, save for two guards standing just inside the door. Wil was one of them, the other was from the king’s personal guard.

  “Any word?” Relam asked thickly.

  Wil shook his head apologetically. “None, sir. We would have woken you if there was.”

  Relam nodded dejectedly. “We’ll go to the west gate,” he decided, stepping into the main room and smoothing his hair. “If we don’t see anything by noon, we’re going after them.”

  “Your highness-”

  Relam glared at the other guard and he fell silent. “Come on, Wil,” Relam grunted. “Rouse the others. I’ll be ready in ten.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wil replied immediately. “We are with you, your highness.”

  Relam retreated to his room and locked the door. He washed and dressed at top speed, donning thick pants and a light shirt. Over the shirt went a leather jerkin, then a thick fur cloak. This done, Relam rummaged in his belongings until he found his armor.

  He never wore it. There really was no reason to. But if he was going into the forest, he might want it. Relam piled the burnished metal into a bag and slung it over his shoulder, then buckled on his weapons belt and strode out to the main room of the royal suite.

  Wil and the others were waiting, wearing full armor and fur cloaks, ready to battle the weather and anything else. Each of them had a longsword on their hip, and a sturdy dagger hanging opposite their primary weapons.

  “Are you ready, your highness?” Eric asked gravely.

  Relam nodded. “Yes,” he replied simply. “Lead on.”

  The guards formed up around Relam, hands on the hilts of their weapons, and they began the journey to the western gate of Etares. The palace was empty, but as soon as the small band emerged onto the city streets there were people everywhere, all bundled up against the cold as Relam and his guards were. They all seemed to be headed for the west gate as well, perhaps believing that the king would be arriving and the Harvest Hunt festivities would continue as planned.

  But when Relam and his guards reached the west gate, they found the doors sealed and the portcullis down. Commander Hadere was standing just outside the guardroom, waiting to greet the prince.

  “Any news?” Relam asked as he approached.

  “None, your highness,” Hadere replied. “I just sent riders to fetch back commander Eckle, or to at least get a report from him as to the situation.”

  “Good,” Relam muttered. “When are they due back?”

  “Within the hour. They had the fastest and freshest horses available.”

  Relam nodded. “We’ll wait above, with your guards,” he said, mounting the stairs to the wall top. The stones were slick with ice and the footing was treacherous. Relam slipped and slid on the third step, barely recovering. Behind him, Wil and Johann cursed as they slipped as well.

  By the time they reached the elevated walkway on top of the wall, the sun was well up, shining over the city and illuminating the distant borders of the Midwood. Nothing stirred amidst the gray, twisted trees, nor in the dead wasteland between the walls of wood and stone.

  “They’ll turn up,” Galen murmured, stepping up beside Relam.

  The prince made no reply.

  Time wore on. The people of Etares came and went, seeking news of the hunt festivities. They were sent on their way and dispersed though, and by noon the word had spread through the city that everything was on hold and the king was still missing. A deep, melancholy air seemed to settle over the capital, even more stifling and crushing than the layers of snow and ice on every exposed surface.

  “Your highness?”

  Relam continued gazing to the west, forcing Hadere to step up beside him. “Your highness, still no word. My rider has been gone too long.”

  The prince nodded slowly. “Then we had better go after them.” Relam reached into his pack and drew out greaves and bracers, strapping them to his forearms and shins. Then, he pulled a mail shirt over his head and belted his weapons over it to keep it from swinging about. This done, Relam pulled his cloak around him once more and turned towards the stairs.

  “Your highness, are you sure-?”

  “Muster forty men, as fast as you can,” Relam commanded. “They will be under my command. The city is your responsibility until I return, Hadere. Lock and bar all gates. No ships come or go until I give the word. Man the mole towers and sink any vessel that disobeys.”

  “Rider to the west!” Wil interrupted, pointing.

  Relam hesitated, halfway down the stairs already, then turned and climbed quickly back up to the wall, followed by Hadere. The prince stepped to the edge of the wall, leaning on the crenellations, and followed the direction of Wil’s pointing finger. From the Midwood, following the road, came a lone rider, moving at a gallop, powdered snow kicking up in his wake.

  “Get that gate open,” Relam snapped to Hadere. “Is that your man?”

  “Aye,” the commander replied, nodding. “He’ll hear it from me for being late, I assure you.”

  “Good,” Relam muttered, following Hadere down to ground level, his guards falling in behind.

  The gates and portcullis opened swiftly, the men in the guardhouses practically trotting around the windlasses as they heaved. No sooner had the west gate been opened than the rider was galloping through the gap and skidding to a halt, the sound of hooves on stone echoing through the city. The rider looked around grimly, then swung down from his saddle and hurried to where Relam and Hadere waited.

  “Commander, your highness,” the man gasped. “I have just come from Commander Eckle.”

  “Eckle?” Relam demanded. “I hope he has a good reason for not sending word sooner.”

  “The commander patrolled the road until dark last night, then set up camp when he realized he would not make it back to the city,” the soldier explained. “When I found them this morning, they were getting ready to come back, thinking either your messenger had missed them or that the king had returned. When I told Eckle that the king was still missing, he dispatched everyone to search. The teams have only just now reported in.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing,” the rider said grimly.

  “Then we must search again,” Relam replied, moving towards the stables, just to one side of the gate. “Did they try tracking my father from where he started the hunt?”

  “I don’t think so, no, but-”

  “Idiots,” Relam muttered. “Come on, Wil, Galen, Eric. And you Johann. Commander, send those forty riders as soon as you can, we’ll be waiting at the edge of the woods.”

  “Your highness, I really must insist that-”

  “I’m not staying,” Relam replied curtly. “Let’s stop a moment and think. All of you,” Relam added. Six sets of eyes, the messenger’s the commander’s, and those of his four guards, focused on Relam.

  “The hunt started yesterday at dawn,” Relam began. “It was due to end last night at sundown. My father is an experienced and proficient hunter, and he had two fine guards with him. Now, there are a few things that could keep him away so long. One, he didn’t find anything, in which case I think he still would have returned. Who wins the hunt is not important, it’s the spirit of the competition, and he knows that. Two, he could have been injured, in which case one of his guards would have fetched Eckle’s men or returned here. The only situation I can think of where we would receive no word, is if all three of them are too badly injured to bring a message back to Etares.”

  The listeners all nodded slowly. Except for Eric. He looked solemnly back at Relam.

  “And what, your highness, do you suppo
se could have injured them so badly?” he asked.

  The others swung around to look at Relam as well, waiting for a reply.

  “I don’t know,” Relam admitted. “A few things come to mind, though. A large boar, maybe a bear. Outlaws, of course. Everyone knew the Harvest Hunt would take place yesterday and anyone could have lain in wait in the forest.”

  “In which case, we had better take those forty men with us,” Wil observed.

  “Yes,” Relam agreed, nodding to commander Hadere. “Gather your men. We leave at once.”

  Relam selected a mount from the stables and saddled the beast with short, deft movements, focused on what lay ahead. He checked his weapons to be sure everything was in order, then swung into the saddle and rode out of the stable at a canter, stopping just inside the western gate to wait for his guards. It was only a moment before Galen, Wil, Johann, and Eric joined him, Johann bringing up the rear and bouncing uncomfortably in his saddle.

  The prince wordlessly wheeled his horse around and led the way out of Etares at a gallop, barreling towards the Midwood, not checking to see if the others were following. Clouds of steam from his breath and his horse’s breath mingled on the frigid air, blowing back past Relam as he rode.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the forest edge. Once there, Relam peeled off to the left, towards the Furnier Sea, and began searching for his father’s tracks. His guards fanned out behind him, eyes on the forest, not the ground.

  “Here,” Relam murmured, pointing down to a clear hoof print in the snow. “This is where they entered the forest. You can see a few snapped branches further along.”

  “Would we do better to join forces with Eckle?” Galen asked tentatively. “Coordinate our search, as it were?”

  “Perhaps,” Relam said, shrugging. “But I’m not in the mood to deal with him right now. He would probably attempt to send me back to the city to wait for the results of his inept search.”

  “Probably,” Wil agreed. “That’s why we work for you now, sir.”

  Relam smiled faintly. “Thank you, Wil. Once we’re in the forest, we’ll stay together. We’re following a trail so no need to fan out to look for signs of my father and his guards. If we follow the trail to the end, we’ll find them anyway. I will do the tracking. Everyone else needs to keep their eyes peeled and weapons ready. Alert me at the first sign of trouble. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” his guards replied.

  “Excellent,” Relam muttered. A rumble of hoof beats caused him to turn around and glance over his shoulder. “And here come our reinforcements.”

  Forty riders skidded to a halt in a loose semicircle around Relam and his guards, gripping their weapons and looking around worriedly. Relam surveyed their ranks grimly, then nodded once.

  “Let’s move,” he said, then rode into the forest.

  The Midwood was silent, as it had been the previous day. In fact, much was the same. Relam took the lead, bent over, staring at the ground, following tracks and correcting his course with the reins every now and then. His guards followed behind, watching for threats. But today, the hunt was not for sport. Today, the hunt could be a matter of life and death.

  They followed the tracks of the king’s hunting party until midday, winding amongst the gray trunks of leafless trees, searching, always searching for the missing monarch. But the only signs continued to be hoof prints, steady and constant and evenly spaced, marching forever off into the distance.

  The hunt wore on, and the sun passed overhead. When the dispassionate yellow eye was three hours past its zenith, Relam stopped and sighed.

  “Take a break,” he told his men. “Ten minutes, no more. We’ll continue for another hour, then ride to the road and head back.”

  A babble of conversation broke out among the riders. Relam urged his horse forward a few paces, separating himself from the rest. Not a moment passed before his guards were around him, protecting him.

  “Your highness, maybe Eckle has found him,” Galen suggested. “We could break off now and return to the road. Remember, the days are short this time of year.”

  “So they are,” Relam agreed. “And the nights long and cold. A badly injured man may survive one such night, but two? And when he has been lying in the snow a full day?”

  “We still don’t know for certain that his majesty has been injured, or that he’s out here,” Eric pointed out. “For all we know, he is back at the capital now worrying about you being in here.”

  “Possible,” Relam agreed. “But not likely.”

  The guards exchanged helpless glances. Finally, Galen shrugged. “All right,” he said, “You’re the prince, after all. It’s your call. Go back, or go forward.”

  “Forward,” Relam said immediately. “We must be nearing the place where they ended yesterday.”

  “Prepare to move out!” Eric called back to the riders. Those men who had dismounted swung into the saddle once more, and the column hastily reformed. The moment everything was in order, Relam set out again, following the tracks in the snow.

  The day wore on. Even though the tracks were still fresh and clear, Relam was beginning to think that they would have to return soon. The trail had taken them far to the south and west and it would take upwards of an hour to make their way back to Etares. He was just about to give the order to turn north, towards the road, when he emerged into a space where the trees did not grow so close together, and large outcrops of rock dotted the landscape. The snow on the ground was churned up and trampled, mixed with dirt and mud and leaves.

  “What in the world?” Relam murmured, looking around the clearing.

  “A fight happened here,” Galen said, his voice strained. “See the broken saplings on the far side? Something large came crashing through there, something in a hurry.”

  “And the tracks are confused here,” Wil added, having moved a little ahead of Relam and the others. “Overlapping each other and going this way and that. Looks like the horses were circling and prancing. Like something spooked them.”

  “Something?” Relam asked joining Wil and peering down at the tracks. “Or someone?”

  The rest of the search party hung back, to avoid disturbing the tracks. Relam and his guards dismounted and began searching on foot, trying to make sense of what had happened. Moments in, Johann let out a startled yell and fell backwards in the snow, scrambling to get his feet back under him.

  “Stop fooling around!” Eric snapped irritably.

  “Not fooling,” Johann replied. “Just . . . found something you may want to take a look at.”

  Eric rolled his eyes. “I’ll take care of this, your highness, you keep working.”

  “Thanks,” Relam muttered, kneeling to examine a unique print. It was a boot print, if he was any judge. But larger than he would have thought his father or his guards would leave. Maybe it had widened as the snow melted? That would account for some of the lack of definition but-

  “Sir?” Eric said, breaking in on Relam’s thoughts. “For once Johann actually did something right. You need to see this.”

  Relam stood, brushed snow from his clothes, and joined Eric and Johann where they stood, looking down at one of the boulders. As the prince moved to stand beside them, he realized that the boulder was not a boulder at all, but a man, curled up in the fetal position, his dark, snow crusted cloak looking like a rock from a distance. The man’s eyes gazed sightlessly towards the sky, his mouth hanging open. Blood stained the snow around him, and his armor was rent in parallel slashes all over, bloody furrows visible behind the torn metal and fabric.

  “Who is he?” Relam asked, covering his mouth with a hand.

  “One of your father’s guards,” Eric said grimly. “Kel, I think.”

  “Yes,” Johann agreed. “That’s Kel. One of Eckle’s favorites, as I recall.”

  Relam’s head spun. “We need to find my father,” he said. “Quickly. This was done by a beast of immense strength. A beast with claws.”

  “Looks like a bear afte
r all,” Eric agreed, shaking his head. “Going after a bear with light spears . . . I never thought that he would actually do it.”

  “That’s suicide that is,” Johann put in grimly.

  Relam glared at him. “Thank you for that astute observation,” he said icily. “Eric, spread the men out, have them search everywhere for my father’s other guard and . . . and for the king.” Relam’s voice caught in his throat and he blinked back tears. “Johann, get Wil and take care of Kel here. We should take him back to Etares. Did he have a family?”

  “A wife and a young ‘un, a girl,” Johann said, grimacing.

  “Remind me to visit them and break the news personally,” Relam muttered. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Johann agreed. “I’ll find Wil and we’ll see about digging him out of there.”

  “And I’ll get the men searching,” Eric said. “We’re losing light quickly.”

  Relam nodded, searching for any tracks that would help him discern where his father might have run off to in the confusion. It took him only a moment to find the body of Kel’s horse, just inside the tree fringe opposite where Relam and his hunters had entered the clearing. The horse too had been slashed mercilessly, along its flank and across the muscled neck. The once gleaming coat was crusted with mud and dirt and snow, the liquid brown eyes cold and empty.

  “Here, your highness!” a man shouted in the distance. “I’ve found the other guard.”

  “No, here!” another shouted, as Relam made to follow the first voice. “It’s the king, hurry!”

  Relam turned abruptly, running towards the source of the second voice. He was not the only one. In moments, half of the search party had converged on the spot. The guard who had shouted was on his knees in the snow, kneeling over a still figure turned on its side and half buried. Tears were streaming down the guard’s face. He looked up as Relam approached, then bowed his head.

 

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