The Pain of Compassion

by Roland Boykin

  Charles was the biggest fool of all. The King believed every lie and ridiculous story Marcus had dreamed up. Replacing the guards with men loyal to him had been so easy. And using the other’s distrust of the Dahlians played right into his hands as his rumors of the Queen’s secret agenda spread.

  Everything was proceeding exactly as he had planned. In a short while, the guests would all be seated in their assigned places. His men wouldn’t even have to search for their targets. Then one of his guards would call him outside to deal with a problem. Once he left, the doors would be locked from the outside and the arrows would fly. He smiled up at the galleries from where his men would ensure the deaths of those he despised.

  His smile slipped when the King came up from behind and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “You must be proud, Marcus. All of your hard work has culminated in this day. A day that will be long remembered as peace finally comes to our two kingdoms.”

  The Duke forced a smile as he turned to his old friend. “It was my pleasure, Your Majesty. But you must be proud of you son also, agreeing to marry the Princess Sofia. I hear she can be difficult.”

  The King’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the face of his closest friend and advisor. “You would be surprised at the things my son has done that I am proud of.” He noticed the Duke’s smile falter and nodded to himself. “Speaking of the Princess, shouldn’t she be making her appearance soon?”

  “Very soon. The guards will alert me as soon as she arrives at the Palace.”

  Charles clapped him on the shoulder again and moved away in the direction of Prince Mathias. Marcus watched the King, a grim smile now on his face. So, my old friend, you suspect something, but it’s too late, especially for you.

  The Duke raised his arms, about to call everyone to their places when the room shook violently, knocking decorations off of the tables, and paintings fell from the walls. Silence filled the room after the last booming echo faded. People picked themselves up and glanced at each other in fear.

  The silence didn’t last as a volley of arrows rained down on the crowd and women began screaming. Marcus ran for the door, pounding on it and yelling for his guards to open up.

  Even if they could have heard him, they faced a problem of their own.

  Chapter Twenty Nine ~ The Cup Of Truth

  Sofia pushed through the smoldering ruin of the door, Ronald right on her heels. They almost stumbled over the body of a guard shredded by wood splinters. Once inside, the nearest guard turned to fire, but a bolt of lightning lanced out from the tip of Sofia’s blade and knocked the man over the gallery wall. When Ronald appeared at her side, the remaining men threw down their bows, grabbed the heavy curtains, and vaulted over the wall.

  The Princess, a storm dancing in her eyes, yelled. “Come on, Ronald. Time to follow your dreams!” Grabbing a length of curtain, she leapt over the wall and disappeared into the chamber below.

  He thought, ‘Hanging from a curtain isn’t really the same as swinging on a rope from ship to ship,’ but he shrugged and joined her anyway.

  On the other side, Altair made short work of the door, and jumped aside as two bolts flashed by and passed over Emma’s head. Before the first guard had a chance to draw his sword, she dropped him. Altair charged the next man, picked him up and threw the guard into the chamber below.

  The rest of the guards decided to join their friends below, and clamored out of the gallery. Altair followed suit, the curtain anchor ripping away with his bulk.

  Emma felt a presence in her mind and hesitated. She faced the rest of her group. “The other group has already joined the fight below, but Navon and the wolves need our help eliminating the men guarding the entrance to the chamber. What say you?”

  “Lead on, Elder!” the men shouted.

  They sped down the nearest stairs to the lower level, and fell on the guards just as the young Deluti and his friends attacked.

  ***

  Moshere remained at the entrance to the Palace, guarding their back. Navon hurried down the nearest hallway, ignoring the rich, opulent surroundings. The growing taint of evil guiding him. At the far end of the hallway, a set of large, golden doors covered the far wall. The ornately carved images depicted on the doors announced the entrance to the Grand Audience chamber. From behind those closed doors came the sounds of fighting and screams.

  The men arrayed before him were many, but thankfully, there were no sorcerers among them. Navon tried one last time to dissuade the men and sent thoughts of uncertainty and fear into their minds. It had little effect. These were desperate men and had nothing to lose.

  Afraid to use his power in such a confined area, he sighed and drew his sword while the wolves spread out to either side. He hoped his years of training would serve him now.

  Two older men smiled when Navon raised his sword, and stepped forward to challenge him. Just as he parried their first swings, Emma and the Keep men charged out of a side hall and attacked. The wolves, howling, joined in the fray.

  ***

  Mathias struggled to his feet after the shock, and watched in resignation as his father fell, the first volley finding its mark. Duke Strumant reached down to snap off the shaft of the arrow lodged in his leg, and accepted one of Mathias’s extra knives. Shouting, “Use the chairs as shields!” the Prince searched for the Queen and found his brother, Richard, already had their mother and sister protected in a corner.

  A man from above crashed down on the table, his sword clattering to the floor. Mathias bent down to grab the weapon, avoiding the swing from a man who landed next to him. The Prince swept his sword low and took the man’s legs out from under him. Mathias looked up and smiled in spite of the situation as Sofia swung down from the gallery. Curtains in one hand, and her sword, covered in dancing blue whirls of lightning, in her other, she engaged the guards. ‘Nice entrance, Princess!’

  Hard pressed by two guards, Mathis was forced back until Sofia appeared at his side, and they made short work of men no better than street thugs.

  When more of the experienced family members acquired swords, the odds began to swing in their favor. Even the Baroness LaFontaine, blood flowing from a gash on her forehead, stood with sword in hand guarding a group of girls huddled against one wall.

  Mathias spotted three men advancing on his brother at the far end of the room. They probably had orders to eliminate the royal family at all costs. He nudged the Princess and pointed. She sprang up on one of the long tables and started running, Mathias not far behind.

  Several men jumped up to intercept, but she swept them aside without slowing. The noise of glass and plates crashing to the floor drew the attention of two of the men who spun to meet them.

  Richard had never been proficient with a sword, and was down on one knee, blood running from a deep cut in his arm. His opponent raised his sword for the killing stroke. Mathias spun around his man, exposing his back, and ran his brother’s attacker through from behind.

  Expecting the same from the man behind him, Mathias spun in time to watch in wonder as Sofia dispatched both men in a storm of sword strokes. Well, the rumors were certainly true. He would never match her skill with a blade.

  Searching for more attackers, the Prince lowered his sword as a hush fell over the chamber. The sounds of fighting was replaced by quiet sobbing and the moans of the wounded. Duke Strumant and others, collapsed onto chairs, adrenalin no longer able to compensate for the loss of blood.

  Everyone turned to stare as the doors finally opened, and a young man dressed in fine clothes entered. Emma followed him in and shut them behind her. Marcus backed away, the tip of the man’s sword resting just beneath his chin.

  ***

  Navon continued to advance until the Duke was forced up against a table. He fought an internal battle as the Deluti side of him raged against the evil this man represented and wanted his death. His humanity won out.

  “Duke Marcus d’Lorange, I am here as representative of the Deluti in search of the trut
h. You are accused of conspiring to murder the royal family for the purpose of gaining the crown. What have you to say?”

  “Deluti?” the Duke laughed. “You may have fooled others, young man, but you don’t fool me. The Deluti are long gone. Now, seeing as the King is dead, and I’m the senior surviving member of the council, I’m ordering you to lay down your sword and leave.”

  “I’m not dead yet, Marcus,” came a pained voice from the floor where the King struggled to rise.

  Tears of joy pouring from his eyes, Mathias rushed over and fell to his knees, wrapping an arm around his father’s shoulders. “How?’ he demanded, and then glimpsed the shining edge of chain mail under the King’s shirt.

  Smiling, his father traced the line of a slice across his son’s chest, exposing the metal links. “The father learns from his son. I may not be the total fool you believed me to be, but I’m more of a fool than I could imagine. I suspected Marcus was planning something, but had no idea he would go this far. Help me up, Mathias.” Groaning in pain and taking shallow breaths, the King stood as straight as he could.

  “Easy, Father.” Mathias cautioned. “The chain may have stopped the arrows, but I would be surprised if you didn’t have several cracked ribs.”

  Charles grimaced at his son, and then searched the face of his oldest friend, who stared, unbelieving. “There is only one way to determine the truth beyond question. Mathias, hand the Cup of Truth to the Deluti, please.”

  The Prince retrieved the golden cup from a shelf where it was stored, and brought it back to Navon. The young Deluti concentrated a moment, nodded and then handed it back.

  “You see, Marcus,” the King continued. “I have always known the cup lacked true ability to encourage its holder to speak the truth. It derives its power from the Deluti.” Nodding to Navon, his eyes bored into the Duke’s. “It now has that power.”

  Beads of sweat formed on Marcus’s brow as his eyes jerked back and forth wildly. He jumped along with everyone else when the door burst open and slammed up against the wall.

  Sebastian stood in the doorway, his eyes locked on the Duke. Rafael’s body lay cradled in his arms, and Floanne stood at his side, a bloody sword in her hand.

  Emma moved to go to him, and then hesitated. She had never seen tears on the ogre’s face before. Afraid of what he might do, she motioned for everyone to stay back, including Navon.

  The ogre entered and turned to the nearest table. Guessing his intent, Navon swept it clear with his sword. Sebastian carefully laid Rafael on the table, and then approached the Duke.

  Marcus trembled violently as he looked up into the eyes of death, but froze stiff when the ogre gripped the Duke’s lapels and lifted him till they were face to face.

  “Your son died saving my life, but it was the evil of your ambition that killed him,” Sebastian growled. The ogre’s eyes continued to bore into the Dukes’ as he carefully set the man back on his feet.

  Marcus squeezed his eyes shut against the flow of tears when Sebastian released him and stepped back.

  “Who is the animal now?”

  Ignoring Navon’s offer to remove the bolt and heal the wound in his shoulder, the ogre walked out of the audience chamber, Emma at his side.

  The King and Duke Srumant took the sobbing Marcus to a far table and began questioning him. Cup in hand, the Duke, a broken man, had no choice but to answer.

  “Navon!” Altair called out. “Come quick. It’s Father.”

  The young Deluti rushed over and knelt at his father’s side where they had laid him on the floor. The Baron had numerous wounds, the worst being the one in his side which bled heavily.

  “Navon… “

  “Hush, Father, and let me work.” Navon was concerned. He had healed more serious injuries, but only with the help of others.

  A sudden quiet fell over the room, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath, as Moonlight bounded into the chamber. The sound of hoof beats echoed through the halls shortly after when Moshere entered and opened himself up to his companion.

  Navon drew power from both the wolf at his side and the Brother standing nearby, and began the task of healing his father.

  The previous battle to enter the Palace had taken its toll. Even with the extra strength provided by his companions, he faltered, losing the fight against the continuing flow of blood. A sudden rush of power flooded his senses. He stared up into the storm flashing in the eyes of the woman kneeling across from him. By unspoken agreement, she took over healing the multitude of minor injuries while Navon, with grim determination, concentrated on the wound in his father’s side.

  The Baron healed and sleeping peacefully, Navon selfishly pulled a little extra energy from her to refresh himself and his companions. He hoped she wouldn’t mind. Taking her hands in his, he helped her rise and marveled at the shared rapport.

  Navon tore his eyes away and faced Altair. “Let Father sleep as long as he needs, and then feed him. He will be weak when he wakes.”

  Her hand still in his, Navon focused in on her spirit. “Walk with me?”

  Eyes wide at the presence of his voice in her mind, Sofia nodded. They walked out to the Palace entrance where she stared at the hole Navon had created, and then turned to look back at the wolf and horse following. “Do you command the Elders?”

  He shook his head and wrapped an arm around Moonlight. “They are my friends, and something more. Moonlight and I share a bond I cannot explain, and Moshere accompanies me of his own free will.”

  Having made his decision, Navon hugged the wolf tight, and then wrapped his arms around Moshere before turning back to Sofia, taking her hand. “Sofia, my time is short. The Deluti spirits are calling me, and I must leave to continue my trials. Even though I would not have survived my first trial without help from my companions, the spirits have made it clear they will not survive the next. Therefore, I must continue alone.”

  Moonlight began to whimper while Moshere shook his head as the young Deluti spoke. “More than anything, I want to stay and help you return to your home and explore the rapport we shared. I promise you, when I complete this next trial, I will come back to help in any way I can.”

  Sofia squinted at the bright light heralding the arrival of a white arch on the steps below them. She squeezed his hand before letting go. “What are these trials?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Ask the spirit in your amulet,” he called out before entering the arch.

  Another flash of light, and he was gone. Moonlight lifted her head to the sky and howled. Moshere lowered his head in silent resignation. The Princess waited until the after-image faded from her sight before returning to the audience chamber where the King and Queen stood waiting.

  “It’s unfortunate you no longer wish to be a princess, but the title of Deluti fits you better,” the King observed. “Marcus has told us of your sister’s plans, and his part in them. You have risked your life for us, and I can do no less than offer you whatever help we can.”

  Smiling, the Queen glanced at her son and Floanne standing close to each other, and then held out her hand to Sofia. “I was afraid Mathias would be disappointed, but it appears he has found someone else. Thank you for saving his life and ours. We would be honored if you and your partner remained in the Palace tonight.”

  “Thank you both, but the Palace is no longer my place. Ronald and I will return to the inn and come back tomorrow.”

  Sofia turned away from them to deal with the question on Altair’s face.

  “My brother?”

  “Gone. The Deluti spirits have claimed him again.”

  “Curse the spirits! How much more will they put him through?”

  Sofia shuddered when the spirit in the amulet whispered in her mind. “You cannot even imagine.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mr. Boykin is retired and lives in the Northwest surrounded by family and pets. His goal is to write stories that entertain and inspire. To find out more, you can visit his blog: www.rolandboykin.blogsp
ot.com or check out his profiles on Google and Facebook.