“Countless were his deeds of valor and heroism. When he finally returned home, ready to settle down and perhaps to take up the throne if they forced it on him, he was not given the hero’s welcome that some think he deserved. He was met at the door by his brother who named him a traitor to the kingdom. Poisonous words from counsellors he should not have trusted tainted the brother’s mind and made him suspicious of Yorien and his intentions, despite the fact that Yorien had never coveted the crown. Yorien was cast out from the kingdom and stripped of his title. Because of his disgrace there were none who would grant him sanctuary. So Yorien traveled farther and farther away from home until at last he had left behind everything familiar.
“The ocean carried his ship to a tiny corner of the world and came to rest on the shores of a strange and beautiful land. When Yorien first opened his eyes in that land he swore to himself that he had never seen anything more lovely. He vowed never to leave that place.
“Well, it so happened that this strange and distant land was ruled by a princess, lovely beyond compare and with a heart of the purest gold. Her name was Chareel and she took pity on the mistreated warrior, for she had heard of his great deeds and had always believed him to be a hero. She granted Yorien sanctuary in her land and eventually fell in love with him.
“But alas the blind eye of Yorien! Her love was kept secret from all, even the young outcast king, for she feared that the people would turn on her if they discovered their princess had fallen in love with an outcast. Eventually she was found out and betrayed by a traitor in her own court. The villain saw what was hidden in Chareel’s heart, for though she never whispered a word of her feelings, her heart shone through her eyes and declared what her lips feared to utter. The traitors cast her out of her palace and sent Yorien back to his people who executed the outcast king. Shortly after Yorien’s death, a new constellation appeared, in the form of a warrior, and the legend was whispered that Yorien now wandered the desolate plains of the night sky alone, with only his sword and a broken shield: the symbol of his disgrace.
“As punishment for hiding Yorien and for falling in love with him, the fair Chareel was also put to death by the ones who usurped her throne, and another new constellation appeared. As legend goes, the new constellation was the spirit of the fair Chareel, flown to be with her true love. But even in this fate turned against her. She was made to walk the opposite horizon from Yorien, never appearing in the night sky at the same time, so that the two could never meet again and she could never tell him of her love for him. But Chareel did have her own small victory, for when she was banished to the sky, she allowed her heart to shine truly for the first time, and that is why her constellation contains the brightest star in the heavens.”
Rhoyan sat quietly when the story was finished. “It is a pretty tale, but so sad. Will they ever be reunited, do you think?”
“I do not think it would truly be for the best if they were.”
Rhoyan laughed. “Well, you’re quite the romantic; remind me not to invite you to my wedding.”
Sheyardin muttered something under his breath about “drastic consequences” then fell silent again. Rhoyan chuckled to himself and gazed into the dancing flames of their campfire, allowing the flickering light to mesmerize him. At length Rhoyan sighed and glanced up at the sky once more before rolling over to go back to sleep. His last glimpse was of the great Wanderer doomed to forever brandish his sword against the darkness of the night, never resting, his useless and broken shield hanging at his side as he defied evil and injustice.
“Protector of the innocent,” Rhoyan half-whispered as he drifted into sleep.
❖ ❖ ❖
Ky seethed internally as the burly warrior pointed out flaws in his fighting style. He had been apprenticed to Sir Bors for a month and the two of them did not get along well. However, Ky knew talent and intelligence when he saw it and he was determined to learn from this man, despite his strong dislike for the tall, broad-shouldered aethalon. Bors was one of the best, and Ky respected that.
“You are too easy to predict. You make all the same mistakes every time you attack, they are small, almost indiscernible mistakes, it is true, but they still leave you vulnerable.”
“Well, when I am king, my aethalons will fight for me,” Ky didn’t really mean it, but he was frustrated and the flippant remark slipped out before he could think it through.
“Not when, my boy, if,” Bors corrected.
“There is no ‘if,’ I am the oldest son of the king and therefore I am the rightful heir to the throne. I am the crown prince, who could challenge me?”
There was laughter in Ky’s voice as he asked the question, but a chill crept over him even as he uttered the careless words. The things Lord Nills had said nagged at the back of his memory, things that sounded a lot like what Sir Bors was saying now.
“You are not the crown prince,” Bors said quietly, aware at the dark flash in Ky’s eyes that he was treading on dangerous ground, “and you may have to fight for the throne before you ever sit on it.”
“You’re not talking about that ridiculous ‘prophecy’ are you?” Ky asked. “The one that talks about a second son?”
“I am indeed, young prince.”
“Utter nonsense.”
“You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed the way everyone looks at your younger brother,” Bors said quietly, “as though waiting for him to do something spectacular, as if they are weighing him to see if he will be strong enough to turn the tide of darkness they fear is coming. You cannot tell me that you yourself have not seen anything special about him.”
Ky began to say that Rhoyan was just his little brother, a boy, a child, and not truly anything all that special, but he stopped himself, thinking hard. He remembered the caves he and his brother had played in; Rhoyan always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to finding his way around those twisted tunnels. Ky remembered the countless and detailed maps he had drawn of the tunnels, he remembered the hours he had spent memorizing them so they would not get lost; a cold tingle of premonition skated across his scalp as he realized that Rhoyan had barely even glanced at those maps and yet he probably could have found his way around the caves blindfolded.
He remembered Master Hobard’s delight at Rhoyan’s interest in learning about history and how quickly his younger brother had learned the things a king should know. He thought of how easily understanding came to Rhoyan, how he only had to learn something once to remember it forever. No teacher had ever had to correct Rhoyan twice about anything. He thought back to the look in his parents’ eyes when Ramius had talked of Ky being king, a look of concern, a look of secrecy, as though they were hiding something. At the end of the long list of Ky's memories was, of course, the most painful one, the one of the tournament. He remembered how Rhoyan had stayed on defense throughout the entire contest, remembered the ease with which his younger brother had disarmed him to win the battle with one stroke of his sword. Ky knew, deep down, that he had not lost because he was tired; he had lost because Rhoyan was truly the better swordsman. Rhoyan never made the tiny mistakes Ky was guilty of, and he was patient, content to wait quietly and then spring on the mistakes of his opponent.
“It means nothing!” Ky shouted, suddenly angry. “Even if he is somehow special, he was born second, and I am the rightful heir!” Ky paused and then delivered the death blow, “And even if he were to become king instead of me, I’d give him my blessing.” Even as Ky said the words, he wondered how much he really meant them. He wondered how quiet he could remain if this wild story was true, wondered how hard it would be to just let Rhoyan have the throne.
“It isn’t that easy,” Sir Bors said, “your enemies will see you as a threat. How can the second son become king if the eldest prince still lives? There is no precedent for it. No, you will not be allowed to just quietly accept your fate and graciously bow out of the kingship, nor should you. As you say, it is your right.”
The man looked at Ky. He could see
that the boy was actually considering his words. The man knew Ky would never willingly turn against his younger brother, but it would not be as hard to make him believe that Rhoyan had turned against him. The young man already harbored bitterness against his brother, a few more well placed hints and Ky would be ready and willing to believe that Rhoyan was capable of anything, even treachery and deceit.
“I am not telling you to act soon. I am not asking you to believe my word alone. No, I counsel you to bide your time, you have plenty of that. Your father is in good health, and your brother is far away traveling with Master Sheyardin. Yes, your brother is most definitely being groomed to become king. He has been given a quest, one that will test how well he performs under pressure, it will determine how deep his love for his people is, and it will show whether or not he can think clearly when in danger.”
“You mean he is running all over the place just for a test? I thought his travels with Sheyardin were to investigate the rumors of seheowks rising up in the East.”
“That is true. There have been rumors, and someone needed to investigate. It does make for a rather convenient test as well. It’s not as if someone else couldn’t handle it though. I’ve always thought that it was a silly tradition, taking the heir to the throne into the dragon’s lair, if you will excuse the cliché. It seems like it would be a terrible waste if he were proven unworthy by getting himself killed.”
Ky scowled. I should have been the one apprenticed to Master Sheyardin; he thought. I should be the one on the quest right now. I’m the rightful heir.
“Does Rhoyan know any of this?”
“Of course he knows,” Bors said, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“Lord Nills said he didn’t know, that no one was allowed to tell him about it. Do not lie to me, I warn you.”
“It is you that has been kept in the dark, my prince. Your brother most certainly knows of the prophecy by now and I assure you that he has not protested against the role fate has handed him. Why would he fight the prophecy when it is to his benefit to follow its words? If he were truly still the loyal brother you believe him to be, he would refute the words of the prophecy. But you see… he only wants the power of the throne, though he will most certainly misuse it.”
“What do you propose that I do?”
Now Bors did allow himself a small, smug expression. The prince was in the palm of his hand, and there was no backing out anymore. But Bors would not have backed out even if he had the chance. He and the others were committed to seeing this thing through, no matter the price.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Rhoyan steered the small boat up onto the shore. As he swung over the side and his boots hit the sandy earth he stared around in awe. It was good to feel solid ground beneath his feet again. They had left Kallayohm nearly two months ago and had not stopped since.
“The Nameless Isles,” he whispered, afraid that this uncharted land would disappear if he spoke too loudly.
Rhoyan closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the air, knowing that very few others had ever ventured this far into the eastern reaches of the world. He had dreamed of this moment, stepping onto the farthest known land in the East, and now the moment was here it was everything he had hoped it would be. He felt like one of the famous explorers, setting foot in a new land. Nothing here was familiar, there were no maps of the Nameless Isles, nobody knew much about them at all. There was no record of how many islands were in this archipelago, or what lay upon each of the islands in the chain. In all likelihood no one else had ever stood on this exact spot or breathed this air. Rhoyan wondered if there might be anything beyond the Nameless Isles. He knew only that there was a dangerous reef on the far side of it; he remembered the name because he had found it fun to say when he was little: “The Mouth of Rarzyn.” It was the widely held belief that there was just water beyond these lands, and a curtain of impenetrable mist at the edge of the world, but Rhoyan had always thought those were just pretty tales for children. Now, though, standing on this quiet shore Rhoyan felt he could believe anything, no matter how fanciful it might seem. Sheyardin scrambled out of the boat and pulled it farther up onto the shore, smiling at the wonder in the prince’s eyes.
“He is here,” Sheyardin said. “The one controlling the were-folk.”
Rhoyan nodded, feeling apprehensive about facing this enemy. He did not want Sheyardin to see his unease, though, so he merely took another deep breath of the cool, fresh air. “Right, let’s finish it then.”
Sheyardin whispered to himself, “Today we shall see if you are worthy of the hopes vested in you. A darkness is coming, and you are perhaps the only one able to stop it.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing important.”
They hiked inland. Sheyardin seemed to think their quarry would be found directly in the center of the island. The terrain grew more and more difficult as they traveled. The flat shores gave way to rolling hills which gave way to rocky ground and inhospitable jagged cliffs. Rhoyan was tiring by mid-afternoon from the steep climbs and the difficult going. The cool morning fled, turning into a furnace-like afternoon. The Dragon’s Eye beat down relentlessly upon their unprotected heads. The heat became nearly unbearable, and a feeling of darkness continued to grow in Rhoyan’s thoughts.
“How much further?” Rhoyan asked after they had scaled yet another difficult peak. He sat down and stared up at the next obstacle before them, a cliff wall even steeper than the slope they had just scaled.
Sheyardin gazed around, as Rhoyan paused to take a drink from his leather canteen.
“Not much further, I would hazard to guess,” Sheyardin replied. “However, I fear that our coming has been noticed.”
“We have not seen a single other living creature,” Rhoyan said, his brow furrowed in consternation, “who could have noticed us?”
“This is a power strong and terrible,” Sheyardin said quietly, “we must be careful.”
“You mentioned someone named Haeronymous before, that he might be behind whoever is raising the were-folk. What did you mean? Who is Haeronymous?”
Sheyardin grimaced. “You always ask such unpleasant questions.”
“I think I should know everything I can about this enemy if I am to be of any help to you at all.”
“True,” Sheyardin conceded. He fell silent for a long moment, and then he continued, “It is a long story, one that I could not even begin to do justice in the short time we have, but I will try to condense it. It is right that you should know what we may be up against.
“At the first dawn of the Dragon’s Eye the Creator, Cruithaor Elchiyl, looked down upon what he had fashioned and smiled. He pronounced our world good and he began to form creatures to dwell upon the land; but first he created great and powerful beings to serve him, they were called the cearaphiym. In his loving-kindness, Cruithaor Elchiyl allowed these beings to watch him work and even to help him. Above all the others Cruithaor Elchiyl placed Haeronymous.”
“Chosen for glory,” Rhoyan translated quietly, “a mighty name.”
“Very good, you have been paying attention to your lessons. But Haeronymous was not content. He saw the glory and praise that his Master was given and he began to breed covetous envy in his heart. He looked upon our world and craved it for himself. At long last, he could no longer hide his greed, so he scorned his name and openly defied his creator. Cruithaor Elchiyl was saddened at this turn of events, though not surprised, for he had long watched the darkness growing inside Haeronymous. There was a battle, but Haeronymous presumed far too much in believing himself the equal of the Creator. He was cast from his place of honor and banished to walk the lands and live among the mortals he had so longed to rule. He yet resides here, a creature of darkness who still attempts to subvert all that he sees to his will. He has manipulated many wars into being fought, and caused havoc throughout history. Ages ago he suffered a crippling defeat and was bound, his power weakened by
his fall, but he is still an enemy not to be taken lightly. I believe he is the true power behind whoever is sending the were-folk to terrorize the world.”
“What do you mean he is bound?”
“Have you heard of the High Kings?”
“In some of my history studies,” Rhoyan answered, “I remember reading about a few of them, though I did not quite understand who they were or what they did.”
“They are humans given the power to re-bind Haeronymous whenever he breaks out of his prison beneath the Mouth of Rarzyn.”
“The Mouth of Rarzyn,” Rhoyan was appalled, “that’s just on the other side of these islands. Why have you brought me so close to him?”
“Because he is still bound. There have been no signs that he is breaking free, and no warnings that his power is increasing. I am not even certain that the enemy we face is truly one of his pawns. Remember: our enemy’s strength is only as strong as his form, no matter where he gets his power,” Sheyardin stopped and gazed at the young man quietly. “Don’t look so discouraged! You have strength and protection you do not even realize yet,” Sheyardin looked up at the sky. “We are about to start losing daylight. Perhaps it would be best to continue in the morning.”
“But staying here gives him time to find us,” Rhoyan said slowly, “if he indeed already knows of our presence in his domain.”
“That is true,” Sheyardin hesitated, looking indecisive. “Let’s go a bit further then.”
They set out to climb the cliff before them. All Rhoyan’s senses were strained to alertness as he climbed. He was certain the one they sought was very close by and he did not want to be taken by surprise. As they topped the cliff Rhoyan came to a halt, his jaw dropping in shock.
Before them stood a grand palace, the most beautiful Rhoyan had ever seen. It was built out of glass or perhaps crystal, its towers and turrets sloped gracefully into the air each one sparkling with colors so bright they hurt Rhoyan’s eyes. A gleaming moat of the clearest water Rhoyan had ever seen separated them from this wondrous castle and great, monstrous sentries guarded the gate, standing still as stone with grim and dangerous faces.
Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2) Page 10
