The Greylands: Volume I

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 1:

  Prince Vayel sat his horse and smiled broadly as he surveyed the wide green land that spread out in all its bounteous splendor before him, for one day, all of this would be his. Sighing contentedly, he turned his horse and carefully made his way down the precarious trail that led to the ridge from which he had just surveyed the realm of Adora, of which his father was King and he the crown Prince. His heart, buoyant with the immortal joy of unspoiled youth and the hope of a bright future before him, he kicked his gelding to a cantor and turned towards home. He had not gone far when the baying of hounds, the thunder of hooves, and the strident cry of a hunting horn broke the spell. Wishing rather to gallop all the way home with none the wiser, he dutifully reined in his horse and allowed the hunting party to catch up, not surprised to see his cousin Flinn at the very heart of the mayhem, and from the way he swayed in his saddle and laughed insipidly at the least provocation, he was drunk as well, another fact that was far from surprising.

  “Well, well,” giggled the noble youth, “if it isn’t my uptight, no nonsense cousin! Finally taking a moment away from all your pressing and vital duties to actually enjoy the day?” He smiled broadly at his companions, who were neither quite so brash nor so thoroughly inebriated as to dare making fun of such a personage as the Crown Prince. Finding no help from that quarter, he returned his attention to his obviously vexed cousin, “aren’t you always lecturing me on how much of a waste just such activities are?”

  The Prince said quietly, “a quiet ride in the country is a far cry from the spectacles you are wont to indulge in.”

  “Spectacles!” squawked Flinn with a lopsided smile, “you hear that me lads! I told you we was a sight to behold and here’s one as agrees with me no end!” He hiccupped and was lost for a moment in mirth at some private joke, then sobering slightly, he saluted flamboyantly and said in parting, “let us not detain you then, my good sir, for we have more spectacle...spectaclating...spectulating....to do!” He laid in his heels and the entire company had soon vanished amidst the woodland shadows.

  Vayel shook his head sadly and continued his journey home, wondering what would come of such a dissolute lad; he had so much potential but squandered it on vain entertainments and drowned it in drink. But the world was bright about him, as was the future before him, and even his cousin’s obnoxious insouciance could not long spoil his mood. With a lighter heart, he continued on his way. His horse snorted suddenly, stopping of his own accord, ears pricked and looking uneasily up the path. Vayel frowned in consternation, but slid from his saddle, hand on his sword hilt, but drawn inexorably in the direction of whatever it was that had discomfited the horse. He sighed in wonder, his hand falling away from his weapon even as he dropped to his knees in awe and no little fear.

  “Walk with me, child,” came the gentle voice. The boy was on his feet in a moment and walking silently beside the Great Unicorn, as He continued, “you are blessed with much.” The boy nodded and He continued, “and you find great joy and contentment therein.” The boy smiled wanly, wondering where his Master was going with this particular line of thought. Suddenly the Unicorn stopped and turned to look upon the boy, who dropped to his knees in sudden, dreadful anticipation. “What if you were to lose it all?” came the awful question. The boy shuddered and He continued, “your beloved father, your reputation, the crown, even your life?” The boy’s eyes were wide with terror, but He had not finished, “and all for the sake of one whose actions you despise above all else?”

  Vayel shuddered, studying the leaf litter for a moment, and then glanced up uneasily into those fathomless eyes; he gasped in wonder and dread at the love and sorrow written therein even as his gaze fell upon the ever bleeding wound in His side, said he in a barely audible whisper, but had he said nothing at all, still He would have heard it, said the boy, “if it must be so, I will endure what I must, as You have endured far worse for my sake and that of all mankind.” He looked up with pleading eyes, “does this mean there is hope for him? That he will find meaning and purpose at last? That he will use the gifts You have given him for the good of others?”

  The Unicorn shook his head sadly, “there are no guarantees child, not where a human will is concerned. He will certainly have every chance of making that choice, but it is his decision alone; I will not force My will upon him.”

  Vayel sighed heavily, “then it could all be for naught.”

  “Yes,” said the Unicorn sadly, glancing significantly at His own bleeding side, “there are many for whom the ultimate sacrifice is still not sufficient cause to look beyond themselves for purpose, direction, and meaning.”

  The boy said in dismay, “but if this must be, what of the Kingdom?”

  The Unicorn shook His great head, “nay child, that is not your concern. You must accomplish the task that is set before you and trust the rest to Me. I work all things together for good, though mortal minds cannot fathom it at the time, or even in long years afterward. It will one day make sense, but for now, you must have faith.”

  The boy looked up to ask another question, but it died on his lips, for the Unicorn was gone. He stood slowly, his boyish enthusiasm forgotten, as if he were suddenly a very old man looking upon a looming winter that would never again yield to Spring’s bright caress, but a strange determination and courage had risen in his heart, knowing he must face the unthinkable yet knowing somehow, despite everything, in the end he would triumph, or rather his Master would, and in that, he took great comfort. He returned to his horse, climbed into the saddle, and set off at a thoughtful walk.

  “Oh, Highness!” came the aggrieved voice as Vayel rode into the courtyard of the castle, “you have returned at last! The unthinkable has happened and we feared you too had somehow been caught up in this disaster, for your father the King,” the Steward stopped to take a deep, steadying breath before continuing, “your father is dead.”

  The Prince’s eyes were wide and he nearly fell from his saddle in shock, though he had had warning of that which was to come, for he loved his father dearly; he was a great and gracious King, unrivaled in the history of Adora yet also the best of fathers, at least in Vayel’s opinion. He bowed his head, offering up a hasty prayer for strength, and then shakily slid from his horse, said he quietly, “what happened?”

  The Steward shook his head gravely, “we do not know. He was in the best of spirits this morning, attending to his duties with his usual vigor, but after the noon meal, he withdrew to his chambers, begging illness. When his valet went to waken him some hours later, he found him dead in his bed. You too were missing at the time and near panic set in, but your uncle, the King’s brother, gravely called us all to order and said he would personally investigate the matter and that a patrol should be sent out to find you with all haste. We have been anxiously watching and waiting ever since.”

  Vayel shook his head, “these are grave tidings indeed, sir. What is to come of the Crown? I am not yet old enough, according to our laws, to ascend the throne?”

  The Steward said rather hesitantly, “your uncle shall reign in your stead, until you are of age, and then it shall pass to you.”

  “Very well,” said Vayel slowly, “could it have been murder?”

  The Steward’s eyes widened and he glanced anxiously at the various occupants of the courtyard as Vayel suddenly understood that he should not have spoken such aloud in a public venue, for there would be rumors enough without him adding fuel to the fire. Said the Steward quietly, “we know little thus far.”

  Vayel brightened marginally, “what of my father’s Advisor from Astoria? Certainly his wisdom would be of great value in this crisis.”

  The Steward shook his head, “we cannot find him. He vanished even more precipitously than you, at least none have seen him leave the castle proper, whereas a few guards and servants knew you were off riding in the woods. It is all very disturbing and mysterious.”

  “Of a certainty,” said the Prince wit
h a frown, “I must speak to my uncle.”

  The Steward shook his head, “it is not to be, Sire. He wished to be apprised of your safe return but said he would be far too busy to speak with you this day, but he promised to summon you for an audience the first chance thereafter.”

  “So there is nothing for me to do? No service I could render?” asked Vayel in growing dismay, at least if he were busy about some needful task, perhaps the dreadful ache growing in his heart would not be near so noticeable.

  The Steward said morosely, “I fear not Highness, save to mourn the loss of so great a man.”

  And there was nothing to be done, at least by the Crown Prince, for the next three days thereafter, though the rest of the palace population was fairly busy with funeral preparations and the like. His uncle’s investigation had turned up nothing, neither had the various doctors and apothecaries been able to discern the cause of death, so in due course, the King was buried and still the Regent had not spoken with his nephew, who could do naught but wander the corridors aimlessly or sit for hours on end in the library, a book forgotten in his lap. Still the King’s Advisor did not appear, and the boy felt utterly alone and forgotten; worse, he knew this was only the beginning of terrible things to come. His cousin on the other hand, went his way as blithely as ever, thoroughly enjoying the festivities and chaos surrounding a royal funeral but otherwise oblivious to the grievous blow that had been dealt to both the Kingdom as a whole and Vayel in particular.

  As he sat in his chair in the abandoned library the night after the burial, gazing morosely into the fire, Vayel wondered if he had the heart to endure what was to come. It all seemed so surreal and courageous, like something in one of the old tales, at least when in the Master’s very presence, but now that he was in the midst of it, he felt so small and frail and alone. But he was not alone, and as he suddenly looked upon that awful Presence, he knew nothing more or perhaps was nothing more.

  He blinked groggily back to consciousness and glanced about him in dismay, wondering where he was. It was completely dark, he stood suddenly and fell just as precipitously with a cry of pain, tentatively reaching a hand up to feel that on which he had nearly cracked his skull. He felt a slanting roof of weathered wood and then sneezed violently, as his movements stirred up the dusty hay on which he lay. With a grim smile, he had a very good idea where he was, but why and how? Carefully, he crawled out of the forgotten loft, wherein he and his cousin had spent many happy hours as children, their parents being blissfully unaware of their unseemly antics, but so familiar was the hayloft in the old stable that he easily found his way down, even in the utter dark. Shakily, he set both his feet on the ground and leant heavily against the rough hewn and partially rotten wood of the walls. He took a deep breath and a small step, repeating the process until he stood at last in the courtyard under all the stars of heaven. He marveled at their stark beauty for a moment before the world was all darkness once more.

  He awoke with a headache, not induced solely by his encounter with the stable roof, and groaned as he rolled into a sitting position. He opened his eyes and stared directly into the horrified face of one of his father’s guardsmen. He frowned and glanced about, wondering what could precipitate the man’s look of utter disgust and shock. Vayel’s face was suddenly a perfect imitation of the guard’s, for the missing man from Astoria lay in a pool of his own blood, his throat cut, not an arm’s length from the horrified boy, and only then did Vayel realize he clutched a bloody dagger in his own hand. The blackness was immediately upon him once more.

  He awoke to find a half dozen of his father’s guards gathered around him, their captain splashing cold water on the boy’s face, trying to rouse him from his faint. As he blinked back to the horrifying reality that was his life at that moment, the guard asked, “what happened here?” The boy shook his head, unable to speak in shock and horror and confusion; the man had been a friend and mentor, to lose him so soon after his father’s death only added salt to the gaping wound that was his heart. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take this matter to the Regent immediately, Sire,” said the uneasy guardsman, “I hope you won’t make a fuss?”

  The boy gaped, they thought he was responsible for this despicable deed! He sighed heavily and shook his head morosely, allowing them to lift him to his feet and get him settled on a horse. They likewise loaded up the dead man and returned to the castle as fast as their prisoner and grim burden would allow.

  The Regent paced before them in dismay, occasionally glancing at Vayel in horror and disgust, “where have we failed you? How could you have gone so wrong?”

  Vayel frowned, speaking at last, “of what do you speak, Sir?”

  His uncle spitted him with a furious glare, “blood magic! Do not dare feign ignorance! You will be the ruin of the entire Kingdom, a Kingdom which would have been rightfully yours had you but waited for your father to die naturally, rather than viciously cutting short his life with your vile sorcery!”

  Vayel gaped, “how can you make such an accusation, Sir?”

  The Regent shook his head, in grave disappointment, “you are covered in the evidence. You were caught in the very act. How else would you explain your father’s mysterious death?”

  Vayel’s shoulders slumped as he studied the guards, courtiers, and servants standing in the courtyard about him, nodding slowly or exchanging grim, knowing looks with their fellows. He did not know what had happened, but he had no evidence to the contrary, though he knew the accusations were utterly false, he had no way to prove it and it seemed the court had already accepted his uncle’s grim view of things. Thus perished his reputation and all hope of ever gaining the crown, all he had left to him was his life, and that too his uncle seemed intent on stripping away as soon as possible.

  Said the Regent in grim finality, “the punishment for such grievous crimes can only be death, only thereby may we spare the Kingdom from the Master’s incumbent wrath.” He smiled slightly in cruel glee, “of course we will have to make it a public execution and a grisly one at that, as befits treason of this magnitude.”

  Vayel suddenly straightened and glared at his uncle, he might be a dead man, but he would not go quietly to his grave, “I will appeal my case to the Lady of Astoria.”

  The Regent looked rather surprised at this sudden outburst from the condemned, but shrugged as if it mattered little, “let it be as you wish it, it is your right after all. Flinn!”

  The Regent’s only child crept out of the crowd of courtiers and quavered, “yes, Sire?”

  “You will take this villain to Astoria and see that justice is done,” growled the Regent. He turned to the guardsman that had discovered the ghastly scene, “accompany the Prince and the prisoner to Astoria, Captain.” With a final glare for Vayel, he turned suddenly on his heel and marched into the castle, leaving all and sundry to gape like stranded fish.

  Flinn gave his cousin an irate frown, “just like you to continue ruining my fun!”

  Vayel gaped, “my father has just died mysteriously and I am condemned to death for the murder of a man I held almost as dear and all you can do is grouse about your spoiled pleasantries?”

  Flinn shrugged uneasily, “why should I care or be so ill used? It has nothing to do with me!”

  Vayel said gravely, “with me and my father out of the way, you are next in line for the crown, thus it involves you deeply, whether you would or not.”

  Flinn mouthed an astonished ‘oh,’ and then turned his consternation into a hasty order to begin preparations to leave. The guardsmen and servants scattered in every direction while the courtiers stood off to the side and whispered eagerly amongst themselves. The captain stood beside Flinn, a length of rope in his hands, “shall we bind him, Sire?”

  Flinn blanched at both the new title and the responsibilities inherent therein and said anxiously, “do as you think you must, Captain.” He stalked off towards the stable, hoping to escape all such entanglements for a few momen
ts, uneasy with so much responsibility so suddenly thrust upon him. Vayel sighed sadly at his cousin’s retreating back and then offered his hands to the stymied captain that he might bind them, as he seemed to think necessary.

  They were off well before midday, Flinn slouching in his saddle and grumbling under his breath, apparently sulking at the dreadful reality in which he now found himself while Vayel felt a strange sort of peace settle upon him, knowing all would soon be over, one way or another. The guards rode ahead of and behind the cousins, glancing uneasily amongst themselves, unsure what they thought of the entire situation but doing their duty as best they could. Either the former prince was a traitor of the worst sort or justice had been grievously denied him, either way, they were quite discomfited by their predicament and the new prince did nothing to relieve them of their apprehension.

  So did the disconsolate little party travel, lost in their own thoughts and misgivings, wondering what would come of the matter when at last the Lady passed judgment. The courtiers watched them ride off with malicious smiles and gloating sneers whilst the townsfolk watched with grim eyes, wondering what was to come of the Kingdom itself in such a circumstance. Vayel was very glad when the woods closed in around them and hid them from curious and speculative eyes. Strangely, Flinn was the one who seemed to be wrestling with the inevitability of the situation rather than the one condemned to death. Hardly a word was spoken between any of them on the entire interminable journey.

  At last, Astoria lay before them and all rejoiced at the sight thereof, hoping it would yield answers that weeks of constant worry and contemplation had not. The captain of the guard announced their business at the castle gates, seeing as how the Prince would not or perhaps could not, for he was nearly catatonic as he continued to mull over this disturbing shift in his destiny. The Lady saw them immediately and heard their various stories, at least from Vayel and the guardsman, Flinn took little interest in the proceedings. At last, the Lady withdrew with several of her advisors and said grimly, “the evidence is both condemning yet highly circumstantial! Can we condemn the boy to death as easily as his uncle has done?”

  Jared shook his head gravely, “you have not said all, my Lady, nor asked him directly if he committed this grievous crime.”

  She frowned at him and his seeming ability to read her mind, “I have no choice in the matter; the boy must die, regardless.”

  Jared nodded, “my thoughts exactly.”

  Her frown became thoughtful, “there is more to this than I yet realize, isn’t there?”

  Jared smiled grimly, “far more than any of us can yet comprehend, my Lady.”

  She nodded, “do what you must.” He bowed deeply and they returned to the main audience chamber, those gathered therein impatiently awaiting the verdict. Said she heavily, “I must condemn you to death.” The boy bowed his head in simple acceptance while his cousin took the news as if it were his own sentence, slumping dejectedly into a chair and refusing even to look up. She turned to Jared and nodded, “and the sentence will be carried out immediately.” The boy nodded and allowed the servant and one of the Brethren to lead him away. Flinn did not even look up as he passed. The guard watched him go with stony contempt and then turned to attend to his aggrieved lord.

  They led him to the furthest corner of the dungeons and he knelt with his head over the block as the axe was raised, said a strangely jubilant voice as the axe fell, “this is only the beginning lad.” As it found its mark, an awful light filled the grim little room, obliterating all therein. The axe fell to the floor with a sharp clang as the hands that held it vanished along with its intended victim.