by James Dale
"When the dark King rises from his sleep," Errand cried, "the armies of the east will again march. But a new High King will take up Sunheart! He will wield the Highsword Yhswyndyr and do battle with the Bloodstone! All these things I have seen in my dreams. I have proclaimed them on the streets of this city, and the people have laughed at my warnings. Laughed and scoffed. And when they grew tired of hearing of the darkness coming upon them, Kiathan locked me away so I could trouble their foolish lives no more."
"Your dreams are a lie old man," Tarsus said sadly. "Not four months ago I was at the flaming Temple of the Door. Both Jack and I were there. The wards surrounding it were still in place. I watched as its lightning bolts killed my men! I saw...I saw it kill Urioch..." The Amarian jaws snapped shut. Urioch had not been killed by lightning from the temple. Oh, there had been a crack of thunder sure enough, but it had been killed by...Jack Braedan and his wondrous rifle that threw balls of lead! Jack Braedan, who had appeared out of the forest as if from nowhere...Nowhere? There was nothing in that cursed forest except the Temple of the Door.
"He has returned," Errand insisted. "I have seen his face in my dreams! But he does not yet know his fate. It has been eight hundred years since Ljmarn's son was exiled. His descendants have so long concealed their true identity for fear of the dark King's assassins, their heritage is no longer known, even to them. But the Lord Yh will soon reveal the truth to him. This I have also seen in my dreams."
"How..." Jack asked quietly, "how will this man be known? Surely there have been many over the years who have claimed to be his lost heir."
"How will he be known?" Errand asked. "He will stride across the earthe, bringing all eyes upon him. There will be those who will recall the olds books and prophecies. They will watch and wonder about the Wolf and the Lion, and they will remember the words of Aaracus. The truth of it will be plain for all to see. He will loose the Hawk from its chains!” he cried, apparently quoting prophecy once more. “He will drive the serpent from the dragon’s lair! The giants will be his friend and the wolf will be his brother! And he will pass the final test and the west will bow."
"What test?" Jack asked.
"The Highsword Yhswyndyr," Tarsus replied. Even in the total darkness of the cell, Jack could feel the Amarian's gaze upon him.
"Yes," Errand sighed. "The Highsword Yhswyndyr. None can draw the sword and live save a direct descendant of the High King. Yes, there have been other claimants before who professed great deeds and demanded the throne and sword, but when the Staffclave brought them into the presence of Sunheart, they died as soon as the sword left its scabbard. After many years, when no one else came forward to draw the sword, the Lords of the Staffclave removed it from the throne room in Immer and took it to Lordsisle in on the edge of Aeralnen Widewater. There they built a temple to house the sword until the return of the High King's true heir."
"Judas Bloody Hell," Jack whispered. Could he be the ancestor of this long dead king?
"Jack," Tarsus said quietly. "How did you get to..."
"Quiet," Jack snapped. "I need to think. I need to…Errand, what...what reason would Duke Kiathan have to fear the return of Ljmarn’s heir? Dorad knew all these things. Kiathan must know them as well. He seems to be the virtual ruler in Doridan. If anyone should welcome the return of the heir to Sunheart, it would be one of the rulers of the old Whesguard Alliance. Even in the Felnors, the Brotherhood knows sorcerers of the Sa’tan have returned. Surely your lords and kings know as well?"
"Because,” Errand said fearfully, “because not all in the west fear the return of the dark King. Kiathan is in league with..."
It was at this point Errand's tale was interrupted for the last time. Footsteps were heard approaching their cell, muffled conversation, then the door was thrown open and guards entered the room, flooding it with light from their torches.
"Looks like this is your lucky day, old man," announced one of the knights. "The Duke, in all his mercy, has had a change of heart. You're to be released."
But the Errand had not heard him. When the cell had been illuminated, he had raised his head to look at his cellmates and an expression of astonishment and horror leapt to his face when he saw Braedan.
"Come along old man," another knight said. "Get moving before he changes his mind."
Still he did not move and his gaze was locked of Jack's face. "Don't make it difficult grand dad," one knight said, walking over to Errand and helping him to his feet.
Suddenly Errand broke free of the knight's grasp and threw himself at Braedan's feet. "My Lord!" he wailed. "This cannot be! Why are you here?”
"Because he's a pirate, that's why," answered the knight, losing his patience and jerking the old man roughly to his feet. "Now come along."
"Wait!" Jack shouted, trying to come to Errand's aid, but the other guards pushed him back to the cell floor.
"No trouble now," one of them said. "The old man won't come to any harm. He's being released."
The knights dragged the struggling Errand from the cell and quickly closed and relocked the door, leaving Tarsus and Jack once again in darkness. But they could still hear the old man struggling. "I must speak to the king!" he cried. "He has returned! I must speak to the King!" His voice trailed off as they made their way down the corridor and then there was silence.
Chapter Nineteen
The Tower Receives Visitors
"Jack?" Tarsus ventured quietly.
"Yes?" A whisper in the dark.
"How did you get to the Ailsantain?"
"I don't...I'm not sure."
"What do you mean, you're not sure?" the Amarian said. "You either walked from your country of...Maine, or you flaming didn't. You didn't, did you?"
Jack sighed, but did not answer his friend.
"You came through the flaming temple, didn’t you?" Tarsus asked.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "I should have told you and Dorad months ago."
"Tell me now," Tarsus insisted.
Jack took a deep breath. "It all started when my nightmares became real," he began.
At first his words were tentative and awkward, for he was reluctant to reveal the secret he'd kept hidden for so long. A secret that only now he was beginning to unravel, though it was still impossible to believe. Once he'd begun the story however, it was like opening a flood gate. There was no holding anything back. He told Tarsus everything; beginning with the day he awoke to find his nightmares were real and had leapt from the realm of dreams to invade the real world until he arrived in the Ailsantain, at the Temple of the Door. The reading of Gretta the Seeress and the blind priest made more sense now. He told him the passages he’d read from the Prophecies of Aaracus and the parting words of Kailmax aboard the Sword of Urgiss. When Braedan finished, he was physically and emotionally drained, but he also felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"I only began to suspect who I might be," he concluded, "and that's a very colossal might be mind you...after hearing Alnordel stories, after reading from the book in Kailmax' library. Then the Norgarthans came along and burned it. That's why I have to get to Brythond. I think the answers I need are in that book. The admiral said there are only two more copies of it left in the world, and one of them is in King Theros' library."
"If all this is true, only one man could come through the Temple," Tarsus said after a long moment of silence. “The man…who stalks nightmares, who rains fire and…Flaming Hell! Thessa was to be the virgin blood sacrifice. But you stopped that too.”
"But does it make me the heir of the High King?" Jack asked. "My name sounds close enough, well…it’s almost exactly the same I admit, but Jesus! My flaming head hurts! Can... Can all this be true Tarsus?"
"It would certainly clear up many things about you my friend," the Amarian replied.
"Could what Errand said be true?" Jack asked again.
Tarsus was silent.
"Could I be this long lost heir? Errand’s Promised One?"
"I.
..I do not know," Tarsus replied. "I will admit that it's beginning to look...possible. Errand certainly seems to think so. You have given me much to think on Jack...Bra'Adan? Let me think a moment. Try and get some rest…my Lord?"
Braedan thought he detected the slightest bit of deference in the rugged Amarian's voice.
"Judas Bloody Hell," Jack sighed.
The Amarian chuckled in the darkness, then lay down on the cold stone floor and was soon asleep.
Someone was gently shaking his shoulders and calling his name.
"Jack?"
"Ummm..." he mumbled, slowly coming awake. He had been dreaming; strange dreams about an outrageously heavy crown that had broken his neck when he placed it upon his head, dreams about a tremendous sword that caused him to rot away into an unrecognizable mass of bones and blood when he had drawn it, dreams about sending men into battle and watching helplessly as they were slaughtered by bolts of red fire.
"They'll be coming for us soon." Tarsus said softly.
Braedan sat up slowly. His entire body ached from laying on the cold stone floor of the cell. The room was still almost totally dark. Only the slightest bit of light escaped into the cell from beneath its locked door.
"How can you tell?"
"Just a feeling," the Amarian replied. "You were dreaming."
It was not a question.
"Yes."
"Of what?" Tarsus asked.
"A sword," Jack said stretching, "and a heavy crown, and men dying in battle."
"I dreamed also," the Amarian said, moving away from him in the darkness. "About...about a great king."
"This great king," Jack asked slowly, "Who was it?"
"I don't know," the Amarian admitted. "You perhaps?"
"We have to get out of here."
"We do," Tarsus agreed. "We must get you to Brythond. Your plan of seeking out the Prophecies of Aaracus is a sound one. There are also scholars there better equipped to solve this riddle than you or me. I’m a simple barbarian."
"You think it is possible then?" Braedan asked hesitantly. "Could I be Ljmarn's heir?"
"I think," the Amarian replied, "you are my friend. Whether you are wolf, or lion, or pirate or...or the High King of Aralon. Whichever you choose."
"Whichever I choose?" Jack sighed.
"Your future is your own," Tarsus answered. "My future was planned for me once but…You do not have to wear a crown if you do not wish.” The Amarian sighed. “Even Yh Himself cannot force you to take up Yhswyndyr."
"No?" Jack laughed bitterly. "He seems to be doing a pretty good job of it so far."
"Then He will not let you die at the hands of Kiathan," the Amarian stated matter of faculty. "You will escape this Tower. Some chance will present itself and...They are here."
Once again footsteps could be heard filling the empty corridor. There was the sound of a lock being turned, then the cell door was opened and torch light came streaming in.
"Come along," a knight said, stepping into the cell. "And no trouble. There's nowhere to run."
Tarsus and Braedan climbed to their feet and walked out of the cell. Two guards replaced the chain that had been taken from their wrists the day before then fell in beside them. The group slowly made their way up the twisting stairway, traveling up and up until the two pirates were winded from climbing. Jack estimated they must have been nearing the top of this tower when they finally stopped before another cell door.
"In you go," the knight in charge said, unlocking the door and motioning for Tarsus to enter.
"Not you," he said, stopping Braedan when he started to follow the Amarian. "It's the top where you'll be staying."
"Room to myself, eh?" Tarsus grinned as they shut the door. "How about some food?" he called out. "We haven't eaten all day."
"We'll bring you something to eat shortly," the knight replied. "Come along," he said, turning to Jack.
They traveled up one more flight of stairs before stopping at another cell. The guard unlocked the door and Braedan was ushered unceremoniously inside. His new lodgings contained a simple wooden bunk with a lumpy mattress, a honey pot sitting off by itself in one corner and a barred widow, high and narrow, that let in sunlight. It would also likely let in rain, wind and cold as well, but at least it was better than the dungeon.
"Basic," Jack muttered, turning to the knight. "I don't suppose I could switch this for something with a bath and a better view, considering my notoriety?”
The knight looked at him as if he was insane.
"Never mind. Some supper then?"
"Food will be brought to you shortly," the knight said, then closed and locked door.
"Great," Jack sighed. He surveyed the cell with disgust, then walked over to the bunk and pulled it beneath the window. Rolling up the mattress, he stood on the bed and reached for the window ledge. It was still about six inches from his outstretched finger tips but a short leap enabled him to grasp the bars and pull himself up so he could look outside.
As luck would have it, the window faced back towards the city. From his high vantage point Braedan could see most of Dorshev. It was much larger than Brimcohn, the city of Pirates. Wide boulevards lined with neatly trimmed trees crisscrossed throughout the city, bordered closely by white stone buildings of every shape and size. Pedestrians, carriages and people on horseback hurried to and fro along the streets creating an early morning rush-hour traffic jam reminiscent of the larger cites of home, only less noisy.
In the heart of the bustling city, two miles or more away from his tower of imprisonment, was an enormous compound surrounded by high walls. At this distance, Braedan could just make out the miniature forms of armored men patrolling along its battlements. In the center of the enclosure, built upon a carefully manicured hill, he saw a palatial castle of sparkling white. Colorful banners of gold and blue flew from its many spires and the morning sun reflected brilliantly off the castle's silver dome. It could only be the royal residence of the Ellgereth's.
When he finally shifted his gaze from the city and looked below to the grounds of the Tower of the White Horse, Braedan saw much the same scene he had witnessed earlier. There were knights aplenty, practicing their trade of lance and sword, some individually, some in pairs and some in larger groups. He watched them until his arms grew tired, then lowered himself back to the bunk. Braedan unrolled the mattress once again, lay down on the lumpy bed and stared up at the ceiling. After a minute he scratched a single line on the stone wall with the iron bracelet around his wrist.
"Day one," he muttered. "The Promised One begins to grow bored. Judas Bloody Hell!"
About an hour later, just as he was about ready to start climbing the walls, Braedan heard the rattle of keys and his cell door swung open. He sat up suddenly when he heard a familiar voice in the corridor.
"I'll take that," Duke Kiathan said, entering with a tray of bread and cheese.
"I wish to speak with the prisoner alone, sir knight." the duke smiled. "It will only take a moment."
"As you wish Duke Kiathan," answered the knight. "But only for a minute."
The cell door closed and the duke smiled at Braedan. "We meet again. Your supper I take it?" he asked, setting down the tray. "You may have your feast shortly. First, you will answer a few questions."
Braedan remained silent, watching Kiathan as he began to pace the small cell. "I suppose you and that Amarian are proud of yourselves? Your little adventure this morning created some-thing of a stir."
Kiathan stopped pacing and looked at Braedan as if expecting a reply. When none was immediately forthcoming, the duke closed the distance between them quickly and struck Braedan with the back of his hand. "How dare you speak to the princess!" he shouted.
He struck Braedan again, knocking him to the floor. "How! Dare! You!" he roared, punctuating each word with a kick.
The cell door opened and the startled knight rushed in.
"Leave at once!" the duke hissed, turning to confront the intruder.
"But..."
the knight began.
"Now!" Kiathan screamed, his face red with rage.
The knight quickly departed, closing the door behind him.
"Where were we?" the duke began again, calming himself and turning back to Braedan. Reaching down, he grasped him by the hair and lifted from the floor. "We were talking about the princess I believe?"
A hateful glare was Braedan's only reply.
"So defiant." Kiathan mocked, releasing him. "Perhaps your attitude will change when you learn what I have in store for you? Do you have any idea what fate awaits you and that Amarian? No, you couldn't." He began pacing again. "Not a hanging. They are over much too quickly. The same with beheadings. Painless. Absolutely painless. Unfortunately, I do not think the good citizens of Dorshev could stomach seeing you drawn and quartered in public. How does a nice crucifixion sound? Would that get your attention?"
"Why are you doing this?" Jack finally asked. "You know we didn't commit all those crimes."
"Of course you didn't," Kiathan laughed, stopping his pacing long enough to smile at Braedan. "At first it was simply because you were a friend of Dorad and the Amarian. When I saw you at the docks...I don't know exactly how or why, but you are a threat to me. I sensed it the moment I laid eyes on you. And you said something to that senile old fool this morning. He was like a madman when he left your cell. Even though I told him he was being released, he was still uncontrollable. I had actually been planning on letting him go. But he was babbling such nonsense... I had to have him killed."
He studied Braedan for a moment, then resumed his pacing. "Since the day I had that miscreant prince exiled, I have been planning great changes for this kingdom. But now you have come along, an uncouth pirate, to threaten everything I've worked for. Before you die, you will tell me what it is about you that sets my nerves on edge."
