Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Info

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  SECOND

  SON

  BOOK TWO OF

  “THE MINSTREL’S SONG”

  JENELLE LEANNE SCHMIDT

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  SECOND SON

  Copyright © 2013 by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  All rights reserved.

  www.jenelleschmidt.com

  www.stormcavestudios.com

  DEDICATION

  To my family, because you demanded to know more about Brant. Thank you for insisting that he was far more important than I realized.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to thank my dad, for the hours of content editing, and the encouragement through every step of the process.

  My mom, for going over the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb and finding all the typos and grammatical errors, and for being so excited about this series.

  Angelina, for the beautiful watercolor painting that wraps around this story and just ties everything together. Thank you for the hours of time and effort you put into this cover.

  Evan, for designing and placing the graphics on the cover. Thanks for all your hard work and for not being offended by our nit-picking or getting annoyed with my indecision. Also, thank you for the beautiful website.

  Derek, my husband, for the hours you have put into creating maps for this world, I cannot wait to get them published in the “second editions.”

  I could not do any of this without my wonderful family backing me up every step of the way.

  My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for giving me a love of stories and the desire and ability to share them.

  PROLOGUE

  The young apprentice peered up at the sky, a puzzled look in his bright eyes.“But what does it mean, Master? I don’t understand.”

  “Two sons.”

  “Two sons? There have never been two sons in the house of Arne, never!”

  “Never, my boy? Never? Have you lived since the Dragon’s Eye was formed then? Have you watched the line of Arne from the ancient days before their family acquired the throne? No? Then be silent with your idle words and keep your thoughts to yourself!” the old man’s voice became a thundering roar and his apprentice hunched his shoulders against the storm. “You are right in one sense of the word, my boy.”

  “How?” the boy asked carefully.

  “There has not been a second son in that line for a very, very long time.”

  “The stars shoot sparks at his birth, Master, why?”

  “Do not put too much stock in the stars my boy, they are fickle and distant and do not affect the lives of men by very great a margin. I see that I shall have to un-teach you much of what you have learned from your previous superstitious masters. The stars merely appear to spark more brightly now because it is a clear night and we are far away from other lights.”

  “Then there is nothing special or extraordinary about this child, this second son? There’s nothing to the old legends at all?”

  “Nothing to the old legends…?” The old man looked surprised. “I cast aspersion on one superstition and you are ready to throw out all the old writings as well; is that it boy?”

  The youth looked properly chagrined and made no further comment, waiting upon his master’s words.

  The old man inclined his head approvingly. “You learn quickly, boy.”

  “Thank you, Master Scelwhyn,” the youth said humbly.

  “I know it is tiresome for you to listen to me prattle on about events that are not taking place here in Aom-igh, but the lives of those in faraway lands do affect our own. This royal birth in Llycaelon tonight is just as important as the coronation of our own young King Jairem tomorrow.”

  “No, the lessons are not tiresome, master, just confusing. And there is so much I have to learn!”

  “And much you have to unlearn. Both can be cured by listening and thinking, so rest easy knowing that there is nothing severely wrong with you.” Scelwhyn laughed at the young man’s expression. “Ah, Garen, you long more for the horse and the sword than for all this book-learning and magery, I understand that, but here, I will give you a gift.”

  “A gift, Master?”

  “Yes, a free answer to your endless questions about the child who is being born far away in the Dark Country. A prophecy, if you will.”

  “A prophecy about this second son?”

  The old wizard looked down at the boy in something halfway between exasperation and amusement. “Do you listen to a word I say boy? Or do you not trust your own ears?”

  The boy looked down at his feet, “I’m sorry, Master.”

  “Very good. Listen closely, for I will not suffer myself to repeat the dark words of the Llycaelon prophecy.” The look in the wizard’s eyes became faraway and distant, his voice evened out, becoming strong and soft.

  In waning days of autumn gold

  A shadow shall spread across the sky

  A banner of darkness here foretold;

  Yet a second son that darkness defies.

  Born ‘neath the sign of Yorien’s stars

  He comes to turn the battle’s tide

  Wanderer he, to shores afar

  Warrior he, the Eagle’s pride.

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  Rhoyan stared longingly through the window at the bright blue sky. It was the first day of spring and the weather was far too nice to spend indoors. He wondered where Ky was, and whether his older brother would bother to show up for class. The seasons had come full cycle fifteen times since the second prince’s birth, making him little more than a child according to the ages of those who lived in Llycaelon.

  “Now, Rhoyan, recite to me the names of the House of Arne and their meanings,” the master said firmly.

  “The House of Arne,” Rhoyan began, pausing as Ky entered the room.

  The master historian turned to fix his tardy pupil with a look of strict disapproval. Ky sat down in his seat and beamed up at the master brightly. The master sighed and shook his head.“What is your excuse this time?”

  “Forgive me, Master Hobard, but Master Yevo made me stay at practice until I had hit the target perfectly ten times in a row.”

  “A command you no doubt thoroughly enjoyed,” Master Hobard grumbled. “If you would pay half as much attention to your school studies as to your combat ones, you would go far my boy. Far.” The master looked at both boys fondly for a moment. “Now, back to the lesson, Rhoyan?”

  The younger boy nodded dutifully and began again, “Arne means eagle, th
e bold predator bird that stands for courage and pride, Arne was the first of our line, who inherited the throne from his cousin after the War of Hawks eight hundred years ago…” Rhoyan continued on, reciting the names and major accomplishments of each of his ancestors until he reached his father, King Stiorne.

  “Bravo my boy!” the master applauded. “You have certainly been working on your lessons, that much is apparent. Now, what did you learn about family?”

  Rhoyan brightened, this was part of every lesson, and the part he enjoyed the most. Master Hobard called it “independent study,” which meant that the student was required to discover something about his topic outside the actual guidelines of the assignment.

  “I learned that the House of Arne has never suffered the lack of an apparent heir. There has always been a son, ever since King Arne the First. Before him, the line was often questionable, because there wasn’t always a son born directly in the royal family. That’s why Arne the First came to the throne, he was the closest kin that King Etienne had.”

  “Very good, Rhoyan, I am impressed you caught that. Now, Ky let us hear your report on the art and history of warfare.”

  Rhoyan sat down, his brow furrowed. Usually Master Hobard asked follow-up questions to the independent study. Rhoyan had been ready with far more information. He had learned something about himself in the study of his family’s history, and he had wanted to share his discovery: he was the first second son to be born in his entire family’s history. It didn’t mean anything much, of course, but it was interesting and he had been curious as to whether or not his teacher was aware of the fact. Rhoyan was always trying to find some information in his independent studies that Master Hobard did not already know, a challenge he usually failed at, but the fun was in the trying. He was a little hurt, and puzzled over his teacher’s lack of interest. However, when Ky was done Master Hobard announced that he was canceling the rest of their lessons for the day, and the excitement of the unexpected early release from school pushed the disappointment straight out of Rhoyan’s head.

  Master Hobard was an understanding teacher and he knew that any lesson he taught on such a day as this would just have to be re-taught later. And so the two boys were allowed to race out of the schoolroom and down into the kitchen much earlier than was normal.

  “Free! Good feeling, eh little brother?”

  Rhoyan nodded enthusiastically. “What are we going to do today, Ky?”

  “I thought maybe we could get Lita to pack us lunch and then go down to the caves along the shore and see what adventures we might have. Then perhaps when we get back we could convince Master Yevo to give us an extra fencing lesson.”

  Rhoyan nodded again, content to let his older brother be in charge. They raced to the kitchens in search of the Head Cook.

  “Ah! Me boys!” she exclaimed as they dashed through the kitchen doors, “An’ what mischief will the two of ye be abo’t today?”

  “Good afternoon, Lita,” Ky said, “we were wondering if you could pack lunch for two dangerous warriors who are going on an expedition.”

  “‘Tis already done, dear prince,” Lita said. “Master Hobard warned me this mornin’ thet ya two ‘ould be squirrelly today.”

  “Lita, you’re the best!” Ky said cheerfully, as she handed them two packs full of food.

  Lita patted Rhoyan’s head kindly. “Run along now, an’ be careful!”

  The kindly cook watched in motherly affection as the two boys raced out of the kitchen. “Ah, those two, eh?”

  The castle sat at the top of a tall, jagged cliff that plunged

  straight down into the water of the ocean, making it impossible to launch an attack from the sea. Any invaders would be forced to sail around to a harbor and then march inland, a disadvantage that had kept Llycaelon from ever falling to an enemy force from outside their borders. The cliffs below the castle contained an intricate maze of tunnels and caves, that Ky and Rhoyan had claimed for themselves as secret hideouts. The two boys had spent countless hours in the caves exploring and playing, and they knew the tunnels better than anyone. The maze of tunnels wound in every direction, some leading out into the forest beyond the courtyards and stables, some leading to the cliffs and opening in yawning caverns that overlooked the ocean, there were many different ways to get into the tunnels, some of the entrances were even inside the castle itself. The two princes had discovered an entrance in the armory, and they used this “secret” door often. They used it today, escaping into their private world.

  They spent the rest of the morning playing warriors among the twisted paths and great caverns. By the time they began to get hungry both boys were covered in dust and looked as though they had been rolling in the dirt, which they probably had; rolling on the cave floors made it easier to hide, and added to the excitement of pretending to evade mythical beasts that were tracking them.

  Following the tunnel out into one of the largest of the caves, which was set approximately halfway up the cliff face, they opened their packs of food. The brothers sat companionably together as they munched on their food, their legs dangling fifteen spans above the swirling water that foamed playfully up against the base of the cliff.

  “I’m famished!” Rhoyan announced between bites.

  Ky nodded; his mouth too full to voice his agreement.

  “It’s hot!” Ky noticed aloud when he had swallowed.

  Rhoyan grinned impishly. “We could go swimming.”

  Ky looked doubtful, “I don’t know… Mother might get upset again.”

  “She doesn’t have to know, and she didn’t exactly tell us not to.”

  “She didn’t have to,” Ky said wryly. “And how do you propose explaining why we’re coming home all wet?”

  Rhoyan shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought we could ask Master Yevo for an extra practice later, sort of before dinner.”

  Ky’s eyes lit up. “And we’d have to clean up before we came inside anyway then, little brother, you’re inspired!”

  Rhoyan flushed under the sudden praise and grew quiet. Ky finished his food and the two boys stripped off their shirts and boots, then they stood silently at the edge of the overhang, their stomachs fluttering more than either would ever acknowledge. They stared solemnly down at the breaking waves, pretending not to be afraid. The boys had done some careful rock climbing about a year ago and had discovered that the cliff face below their ledge was easy to scale. The water at the base of the cliff was deep and unbroken by any jutting rocks, perfect for two young princes who wished to be adventurous. However, even after many similar experiences, leaping out into open air and sailing down into the dark water that splashed and gurgled in loud waves far beneath them was still a daunting proposition.

  Then, because he could stand it no longer, Rhoyan backed up, gave an ear-splitting yell and ran off the edge of the cliff, plunging through the air and into the water below. Ky could not help but follow suit and soon both boys were laughing and splashing in the cold and salty water. They played in the ocean and climbed the cliff and jumped into the water again and again, until the Dragon’s Eye was nearing the horizon, and then they climbed the cliff face one final time. They dripped all the way back through the tunnels, shivering and giggling and remembering out loud the feats of the day. They sat down at the end of the tunnels to put their boots back on and Rhoyan stared up at the sky, which was beginning to turn golden and purple.

  “Ky, do you think we’ll get to go to the Grand Tourney this year?”

  “If Mother decides that we’re old enough to watch. Father would have taken us last year, but she said we were still too young.”

  “I wish we were old enough to be in the Tournament.”

  Ky’s expression grew wistful. “Yeah… that would be great. We’d win all the prizes and everyone would chant our names…”

  A moment passed as visions of glory danced in front of each boy’s eyes. Then Ky sat up straighter, a thoughtful look on his face.

  �
�Rhoyan! Maybe Master Yevo would let us have a mock tournament this year with the other pages and squires.”

  “Oh, Ky, do you think he would?”

  “He might, I don’t see why not. We’d only be using practice swords, not like the knights who use real weapons in the tournaments, and it would be a good learning experience for all of us.”

  “That would be almost as great as being in the real tournament.”

  “Well, we were headed over to the practice yards anyway, let’s go ask him now!” Ky suggested.

  Rhoyan shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his pack, running a little to keep up with his brother’s longer strides. They arrived in the practice yards, panting and out of breath, and looking even more disheveled than they had before. The water of the ocean had washed away the previous layer of dirt, but their travels back through the tunnels while soaking wet had more than restored their layer of grime.

  “Master Yevo!” Ky called out to the gruff old arms master.

  The man turned from polishing his sword at the eldest prince’s voice and a smile broke out across his face. “Your Highness! And how are my two favorite students today?” He strode over and clapped Ky on the back and tousled Rhoyan’s hair. “Did you two come up here for an extra practice?”

  “Yes, we did, Master Yevo,” Ky said, “but also to ask your opinion on an idea we had.”

  “Idea? What idea?” Master Yevo asked.

  Ky outlined the idea for a mock tournament, and Rhoyan piped in with his own comments. When they were finished, Master Yevo tilted his head back and squinted up at the sky as if lost deep in thought. He stood like that for so long that the two boys began to think he had frozen in place. They exchanged a nervous glance.