Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Rhoyan saw their looks and sobered, but when he spoke, it was in a normal tone of voice, “I will whisper here no longer.” His voice sounded loud in the silence and caused his two friends to flinch visibly. He drew his sword and brandished it at the trees that leaned in as though reaching to grasp the little group. The branches pulled back slightly at this and he felt a wash of sudden daring. “Let the forest fear me, for I am done fearing it.” He spun, sword still drawn, and marched forward, Dru and Calla following close behind.

  As they walked, Rhoyan felt the oppressive darkness of the forest receding, the trees thinned, and light began to peek down through the canopy of leaves above them. His companions turned their faces up to the light as though they had not seen it in months, but Rhoyan strode on, heedless of it. His goal burned in front of him brighter than the Dragon’s Eye and he felt excitement welling up within him as he came closer to his goal.

  “Would you look at that?” Dru said, breathless with awe.

  Rhoyan stopped and stared at the view before them. The forest was all but behind them now, and rising up from the grassy weeds before them was a great wall of stone. The wall was obviously meant to be a border of some kind, but it was weather-worn, aged, and was crumbling. Whole segments of the wall had fallen down in places. Beyond the wall were several tall towers. Only one of the towers looked to be whole, the others had collapsed and were in varying degrees of disrepair.

  The three travelers continued along the path, their footsteps slowed by their awe until they came to the great iron gate. The gate was more decoration than barrier, with its bars twisted into great spiral patterns and plated with gold. Rhoyan pushed on it and, despite its age, it swung open easily, although it creaked loudly and shuddered. They passed cautiously through the gates and walked up the great, marble stairs that led to a massive oak door. There were weeds growing up between the steps and the paint on the door was chipped and faded. On either side of the door there were great carvings in the stone walls, but they had been so battered by the wind and driving rains of decades, if not centuries, that one could only guess as to what the carvings had once depicted.

  Though the whole palace was old and crumbling and overgrown, the majesty and greatness of its past still hung about it, as if clinging to the very stones. It was obvious that this had once been a great palace, and beautiful as well. The stonework had been placed with skill and care by master builders. The carvings that framed the door evidenced the brilliant craft of an age long forgotten. The three travelers were struck by the thought that if Kallayohm was Beauty, then this old, broken palace was Goodness. This must have been a haven of peace and power, where virtue had lived.

  Rhoyan could feel that here had once been great magic, perhaps the greatest the world had ever seen. Sensing the weight of powerful magic, he knew that the kings who had resided here must have felt that same weight very deeply. Surely they had heard the dark call to use that power for harm and for their own glory every day, for wherever there is great power, there is also the temptation towards great evil. But each had resisted such ideas and used it instead to protect their people and keep the peace of the land, and Rhoyan suddenly understood that was the greatest power of all. He remembered then that the woman had told him that the key to the secret opening in the mountain was to be found here, and he stepped closer to the door, his musings fading as his excitement rose.

  “Here we are,” Rhoyan said almost reverently to his companions, placing his hand on the great door and pushing it open to reveal the once marvelous hall, “in the home of the High Kings of Tellurae Aquaous.”

  They stepped into the hall. Daylight streamed into the palace through great cracks and holes in the roof, speckling the cracked floor with bright spots of light. The rays trickled down around them like waterfalls and Rhoyan felt as though he stood in a place enchanted. Ivy-like vines crawled up the walls and twisted their way around the staircases. A garden of wildflowers and great bushes and undergrowth tangled and twisted their way through the interior of the castle, giving it an eerie sensation that perhaps this place was forbidden to the living.

  “Where do we even start looking for a key?” Dru asked, a bit overcome by the enormity of their task.

  “I don’t know. It must be something obvious, or Colas’ mother would have given us clearer directions.”

  “Downstairs,” Calla said suddenly, and she darted around a corner.

  Rhoyan and Dru shared a startled look, and then they raced after her. They found her at the bottom of a short staircase. She was standing in front of a door holding something tightly in one fist.

  “Calla?” Rhoyan asked.

  She turned to him. “I thought there would be a map or something, maybe locked in a trunk... I didn’t realize the door would be here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look.”

  Rhoyan looked at where she was pointing. She was gesturing at the door, and he stared in confusion, but then he saw what she meant. On the door was a great carving, similar to the ones outside, but this one had been kept safe from the elements and the picture was still discernible. Rhoyan stared closely at it, and with a flash of insight he understood.

  “Dru! Do you see?” Rhoyan asked excitedly. “This is the hidden doorway! The carving shows a tunnel, and it looks like it opens up inside a mountain. But look there! There is smoke rising from the mountain!”

  “Well, how do we open it then?” Dru asked.

  Calla opened her hand; in it lay a simple key. It was rusted and old, but other than that it was rather unremarkable.

  “Where did you find that?” Rhoyan asked.

  “Colas’ mother gave it to me,” Calla admitted, “just as we were leaving she pressed it in my hand and said, ‘Keep this safe and use it well, it will get you through the door you seek.’ I thought she was talking about a map to the mountain or something equally helpful. I assumed the key would open a treasure chest or a locked drawer… but I didn’t realize it would get us inside the volcano!”

  “Try it,” Rhoyan urged.

  Calla stepped up to the door cautiously, bringing the key to the lock. She brushed a cobweb away from the lock and slipped the key in. Though both key and lock were rusted from disuse and age, they still fit perfectly. Calla turned the key and they heard the bolt slide back. Calla took the key out of the lock and Rhoyan grabbed the great ring and pulled the door open. They were met with a blast of cold, fire-stained air.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  The three travelers stared down into the dark tunnel. They looked at each other in dismay, reluctant to leave the daylight they had only recently rediscovered. Rhoyan looked at his companions apologetically.

  “It looks like we’re going back into the dark, I’m sorry. If you want, you can stay here and guard the doorway while I go on alone.”

  Dru shook his head firmly. “We’ll not leave you now!”

  “We’re coming with you,” Calla affirmed.

  “Well,” Rhoyan said, “let’s go then.”

  He began to step into the tunnel but Dru gripped his shoulder. “Wait a moment,” the thief said. He darted away back up the stairs.

  When Dru returned he was holding two lit torches in his hand and he had a triumphant look on his face. “We’ll not go in there without a light.”

  “Good thinking,” Rhoyan said.

  Dru handed him a torch, keeping the other for himself, and Rhoyan held the light up as he stepped into the tunnel. All three of them proceeded cautiously, staying well away from the walls, which were covered in cobwebs. The flickering firelight served them well, casting a warm glow into the tunnel, allowing them to see a fair distance in front of them. They walked down the dark passageway, which twisted and turned like a thing alive until Rhoyan had completely lost all sense of direction.

  “It feels like we’ve been traveling for hours,” Calla commented.

  “I’m beginning to think we were wrong about the door.
This tunnel seems to have no end,” Rhoyan replied.

  Dru sighed. “We need to think about rest and food before we proceed too much further. We don’t know how far we have to go, or what effort will be required when we reach our destination.”

  Rhoyan stopped and looked back. “Let’s go on for a bit, it isn’t late yet, and I don’t relish the thought of sleeping in this passage.”

  Calla stared around her at the dark walls and she wrinkled her nose. “Me neither!” she exclaimed, sounding much more awake. “What harm could come of going a little farther?”

  Dru nodded his assent and they continued on, Rhoyan leading the way. When he stopped, it was so sudden that Dru and Calla almost collided with him. They skidded to a stop and tried to peer over his shoulders to see why he had halted.

  Rhoyan took a few more steps and Dru and Calla saw that the tunnel had suddenly opened up into a much larger cave. There was fresh air flowing through it from a hole in the ceiling and it had a clean, sandy floor. The cave was not nearly as dark or creepy as the tunnel had been and Calla laughed aloud in relief. In their joy at being out of the long tunnel at last, it took Calla and Dru a moment to notice that Rhoyan was not joining them in their celebration.

  “Rhoyan! We can rest here,” Dru said cheerfully. “We’ll get a few hours of sleep and then continue on in the morning, what do you say?”

  Rhoyan acted as though he had not heard his friend’s words. He was standing where he had stopped. The only movement about him was the slight flickering of the shadows.

  “Rhoyan?” Calla asked quietly.

  Rhoyan slowly lifted a hand and passed it over his eyes. “We’ve found it,” he whispered hoarsely.

  That was when they saw the stone door on the other side of the cave. It was built into the cave wall, but the torchlight revealed its outline. Rhoyan gazed at it longingly, but he shook his head and sat down.

  “We will get some rest first,” he declared.

  “But we are so close now!” Calla cried.

  “How can you want to rest at a time like this?” Dru added excitedly. “Come on; let’s see if we can get it open!”

  “No, it will keep,” Rhoyan countered. “You were right when you said that we need rest. The door will still be there in the morning.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “Jhasen!” Seamas raced through the halls of the palace, searching for the physician.

  In the past few months, the old doctor had become an unexpected counselor. Seamas found himself relying on Jhasen’s quiet wisdom and advice more and more often. Where the old physician had been a terror to the prince in his childhood, now he was a source of encouragement and support. He had also become a trusted confidante and friend.

  The old man appeared in front of him, moving so quietly it was as though he had materialized out of thin air. Seamas almost leapt back, sword half-drawn before he realized who it was, he still was not used to the uncanny way the man always knew exactly when and where he would be wanted, or the silence with which he moved. Jhasen stood there calmly.

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “There is a rumor going around that my brother has been seen in Kallayohm recently. I have received reports from the merchants who travel to Yochathain that a young man matching Rhoyan’s description was recently overheard looking for passage to Llycaelon.”

  “I heard that report this morning, I was coming to tell you about it.”

  Seamas paused, and his lips quirked wryly. He was not sure who Jhasen’s contacts were, but the man was as well-informed as the king himself.

  “Has he heard the rumors?” Seamas asked, glancing at his father’s door.

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you think it’s true?”

  “If it is,” Jhasen said quietly, “what will you do?”

  Seamas gasped for air and wheeled away running his hands through his dark hair. He paced for a moment and then stopped, looking at Jhasen. A pleading look entered his dark eyes.

  “Do not think of me harshly,” he begged.

  For the first time in his life, he saw the old man confused. Jhasen stared at him as though completely baffled and raised an eyebrow. His expression softened.

  “Think of you harshly? You are like my own son. What do you mean, Your Highness? I don’t understand,” the man replied quietly.

  Seamas swallowed hard. “I wanted him to be dead,” he whispered brokenly, “I still do.”

  “Your brother?” Jhasen asked.

  Seamas nodded and swayed, falling against one of the great columns that lined the hallway. He buried his face in his hands and his broad shoulders shook. He raised his hands imploringly, a look of anguish in his eyes.

  “Yes! My brother!” Seamas let out an animal sound of remorse and pain. “What sort of monster am I? I thought I could give it up. I thought it would be easy. Just hand the throne over to Rhoyan and be done with it. But it isn’t that easy. Oh, I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t about the power, truly it isn’t! It’s the responsibility that I have, the responsibility I must bear.”

  “Highness, you misjudge me. I cannot think less than highly of you. All these years I have been in service to your family, it has not been because I was desirous of financial security or the prestige of the position, it is because I love you and your family as if you were my own. I can only assume the best of you. The prophecy... I believe the royal line has been hasty in assuming knowledge of what its words mean.”

  Seamas closed his eyes. “And what if we have all been wrong?”

  “About the prophecy?” Jhasen asked gently.

  “Do you think it possible?”

  There was a long moment of silence. At last, Jhasen spoke, “Long have I believed it foolish to spend time chasing after prophecies. If the prophecy be true, it will come to pass, and nothing any man does will cause or prevent it. I have counseled your parents with that caution, I have spoken to any who would hear me... but I fear my advice and words have all too often gone unheeded.”

  “Then you would support me, if...” Seamas let the half-asked question hang in the air between them.

  “I will abide by the decision of my king.”

  “Even if he is no longer in his right mind?”

  “I swore an Oath, the same one you swore as a Kestrel, Highness, or have you forgotten?”

  Seamas stepped back a pace. “I swore to uphold truth, purity, honor, and courage. If the truth is that our kingdom would be better served if I were on the throne, if the truth ends up being that my father the king is no longer capable of making a rational decision, then it is on my honor to protect my kingdom. Even if it means standing up to men I respect and love and disagreeing with them. Even if it means challenging my own brother for something that is rightfully mine.”

  The old physician’s eyes turned steely. “Be careful what you threaten, Sire. Your words skirt the knife blade of treason. I must return to tending your father. As long as he lives, he is still the king.”

  Seamas’ anger flared brightly. “You are my counselor. You swore to serve me,” he growled.

  Jhasen’s eyes were filled with compassion, but his words were firm, “I swore to serve the King of Llycaelon. I swore to serve that great man who lies ailing in his room, not some princeling who dreams poisonous and treasonous thoughts without even waiting to hear his father’s decision. You are as bad as every single person who knows about the prophecy, thinking you can thwart it before even knowing what it means or whether it pertains to you.” The old physician spun on his heel and strode away, his footsteps resounding angrily down the hall.

  Seamas stared after him, hurt and confused. “I do not understand,” he whispered.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Rhoyan was not sure what woke him. He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings. The sleeping forms of Dru and Calla were next to him and the torch flickered lazily where they had stuck it in the ground. Rhoyan stood up in one silent motion and lifted the torch. He
gazed down the tunnel from whence they had come, but he could neither see nor hear anything out of the ordinary.

  His attention turned to the stone door, and he stepped up to it as if in a trance. He ran his hand over it, trying to find a knob or a handle, but he could find nothing. He pried at the cracks with his fingers, but the door would not open. He sighed deeply and stepped back, trying to solve the puzzle. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, then his eyes registered what he was seeing. Pushed deeply into the roof of the cavern were brilliant gems that depicted the night sky. At the center stood the constellation of Yorien, wielding his blade. Rhoyan marveled at the care with which each precious stone had been placed. The gem-work caught the torchlight and sparkled like the stars they represented. On the far side of the cave Chareel’s constellation was etched into the rock, and Rhoyan noticed something dripping down from that spot like tears. He walked over to it and saw that it was real water.

  “There must be an underground river running along here,” he muttered, touching the water. He brought his wet fingers to his face and coughed, for the water smelled strongly of sulfur. “Now I know we’re near the volcano, but I still don’t know how to get through the door.”

  He reached up, for here the cave ceiling was low enough that he could touch it, and he brushed his fingers across Chareel’s constellation. One of the gems turned as he touched it and he heard a loud rasping noise like a rusty hinge being forced open. The stone door swung away to reveal a wide, yawning darkness. He darted through before the door closed again. He heard Calla calling after him, but he knew that this journey was his, and his alone, to make. He could not ask them to come any further. On the far side of the door was a normal handle. Rhoyan’s eyes lit upon it gratefully, he would be able to return to his friends.

  The sudden grating of the door had brought Calla awake in time to see Rhoyan disappearing. She had sprung to her feet with a cry in an attempt to catch him and pull him back, but she was too late. She woke Dru and together they tried to open the door, but to no avail. It was shut tight and sealed, as though it had never been opened. After a time, Dru and Calla gave up and sank to the floor, unsure what to do next.