North & South

by K T Munson

  When he arrived at the White Knight’s tower, he didn’t wait but walked in directly. Hector sat behind the great desk and was signing documents. His hazel eyes looked up in surprise at Lancel’s sudden appearance. Hector wore the same white cape and white armor that he always seemed to wear. Lancel wouldn’t doubt if the man slept in it.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Hector demanded standing.

  “Roanoak is under attack and it seems Guildafrey has fallen,” Lancel said with no great pleasure. “We must fortify the city and the fortress.”

  That clearly surprised Hector as he hurried around the table asking, “Is there any word from the king?”

  “None,” Lancel responded with a frown, “He is missing.”

  “And the Queen?” Hector’s voice betrayed his worry.

  “Also missing,” Lancel was careful to keep the distress from his voice.

  “Then you are Regent until Kaden is brought here.” Hector responded nodding his head. “We need a good way to close down the city and bring people behind the safety of the walls.”

  They made haste through the castle towards the strategy room. They found that most of the council was missing. Lancel sat at the head of the table and waited, listening to the chatter as more and more council members entered. When there was threat of war and no king, the normal small council of five was increased to nine.

  Only one remained missing when a different messenger, wearing riding clothes and a grave expression, brought a bound letter. The room suddenly filled with silence as he held his hand out. He broke the seal, one of his gatekeeper’s crest, and unfurled the letter. He was leaning forward by the end of the letter in astonishment.

  Hector sat down next to him and asked, “What news?”

  “Guildafrey fell to flying weapons,” Lancel said astonished as he looked around the room. “Nearly all of Roanoak has surrendered in fear of them.”

  Chapter 47

  Celia

  Celia stood on the balcony, which was just beyond the throne room, and faced the beautiful city of Guildafrey. Even as it smoldered she could not deny its beauty. Ostapor had stunk, the odor was hard to forget, but somehow Guildafrey did not. Its streets, those untouched by their attack, were clean. She felt as though she had marred a piece of art, not a city.

  She had come to the balcony to think; taking Guildafrey was one thing, a home for them, but Hadrian had demanded all of Roanoak. Even here she could hear the city weeping. It was mourning for its lost King and its burned children. Its people wept as well and Celia had played her part in their misery.

  She heard Rauf come up behind her but she didn’t turn to him as she said, “She was right. Hadrian’s hands are stained in blood.”

  “Hadrian asks for you,” Rauf said putting his big hand over hers.

  “I am sorry,” Celia said looking up at him as tears threatened, “I should never have brought us here.”

  “We are here,” Rauf said as though it meant something.

  Celia nodded before walking back towards the throne room. Hadrian was on the throne; the floor may not have shown the markers of blood, but she knew they were there. His one mercy had been to put the three dead royals into the crypts far beneath the city.

  Hadrian’s men were gathered around him. “We are going to demand Vargos’s surrender. What have you learned?”

  “There are whispers that Rodrick’s daughter, princess Ashira was in the city during the attack,” an older man said. “They saw her flee the city on horseback with a wounded man.”

  “She is Queen Ashira now,” Hadrian corrected him. “She married the Water King.”

  Celia remembered the girl, with fierce eyes and breaking heart, that had taken the horse. “It would be prudent to capture her and bring her back. The Water King will want his bride returned.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” the older man explained. “The city is upset, there is rioting in the streets. Ashira could be the key to bringing the people around to you. She sacrificed herself to Vargos for her people; they will listen if you hold her captive.”

  Rauf suddenly focused on her and said, “The horse thief.”

  Celia shook her head before turning and saying to Hadrian, “We will find her. Narana is a competent tracker.”

  “I need you here,” Hadrian said with a frown.

  “With all due respect, you don’t,” Celia said with a smile. “You need me to win her to your side. You said I inspire loyalty in others, let me bring you the People’s Princess.”

  Hadrian’s eyebrows pressed down as he seemed to consider her words. Even here she could hear the wailing city. When it was done crying it would get angry and the riots would only increase tenfold. Standing in the room of kings, she regretted the part she played.

  “It is a good idea to have her in case this country cannot easily be tamed,” Hadrian finally conceded. “I give you leave to track her.”

  “It is my honor to serve,” Celia said with a bow. “I will depart immediately.”

  “Return with the princess as soon as you can,” he said and turned back to everyone else.

  Celia and Rauf left the throne room and walked towards their rooms. They were finer rooms than those in Ostapor and were more colorful then she had ever seen. Apparently it was called the Rainbow Palace and Celia could certainly see why. She had never known so many colors existed before and they were all over the walls.

  “You are correct,” Rauf said after a moment, “Our home is built on the blood of its predecessors.”

  “I cannot stay here and be a part of this empire Hadrian wants to build around himself,” Celia said realizing how Hadrian had slowly changed She did not like what he was becoming.

  Power had slowly corrupted him, the more he gathered, the crueler he became. His people followed him because they were loyal or had nowhere else to go. Celia would have continued like the rest if she hadn’t stopped to think. She didn’t recognize the hero within Hadrian any longer and she no longer felt safe.

  “Are we really going to track her?” Rauf inquired pulling her from her thoughts.

  “Yes,” Celia said, “We know what she looks like and there is nowhere to go.”

  “She could return to Vargos,” Rauf pointed out.

  “She won’t, the road is too well guarded,” Celia countered remembering Hadrian’s blockades. “She went north and likely is hiding at the Oaken Harbor.”

  “She could go down the Knife,” Rauf said as they reached the door.

  “And go where?” Celia asked rhetorically, “Plus, Hadrian has posted ships to screen those who want to come to Roanoak. The only other choice is the desert and no one is that crazy.”

  Chapter 48

  The Commander

  The Commander watched the waters flow under the bridge. There was so much power in water and their world was centered around it. Yet his was not; it was centered on blood. He was losing his patience as he waited for the Queen of Sylon. The woman would keep a bloody war waiting.

  The door opened just as he was about to abandon the idea of meeting with her. The attendant announced, “Queen Sani Siria, her royal highness of Sylon.”

  When she entered in her overly decorated clothes and her hand held up in the air, he almost scoffed. This woman looked like nothing more than a spoiled whore. He was very careful to keep his expression straight as he took her hand and kissed it.

  “The Commander, I presume,” Queen Sani Siria said with a soft smile.

  “Her highness may call me Bane,” he forced himself to say.

  “Do you get so intimate with all the rulers you meet?” She countered coyly.

  “Only those I intent to partner with,” The Commander retorted. Though, all he wanted to do was strangle her.

  She studied his face before retracting her hand and asking, “Have you seen my terms?”

  The Commander felt his lips jerk but carefully reconciled his rage. “They are not as demanding as I expected.”

  She was a whore, but a clev
er whore, he had to admit. She had only asked for the harbor and a good portion of land that lay between her border and Rentas. She said the rest of the country was his as well as Lenas. She would use her port to trade goods with him and he would trade goods with her, both at a reduced price.

  In a way her position seemed like a weak attempt to gain leverage. He had seen through it and decided Queen Sani Siria was clever but her subtle attempt, to outmaneuver him, had failed. How a country could ever wish to be ruled by a queen was beyond him. They had nothing worthwhile besides what resided between their legs. Even that held no interest for him; especially not at her age.

  “I will not agree to your terms on slaves,” The Commander informed her, “That is my domain.”

  She tipped her head to the side, her hand still hovering, and said, “That is reasonable. Though I will insist they do not pass through my harbor.”

  ‘Her’ harbor, the gall of the woman. She was lucky he did, indeed, need her. He could not threaten everyone into trading with him. So instead he swallowed his outrage and nodded his head. The Queen looked quite pleased with herself.

  “There was something not included in my terms,” the Queen said. “Hadrian has stolen power in the south. Are we agreed to join against him if he attempts to return north?”

  “You and I have already united here in Ostapor,” The Commander reminded her. “He has too many enemies here in the north to return.”

  “Lorian helped him escape,” Queen Sani Siria countered. “Although they claim it was to prevent further loss of life.”

  He hated to admit that he had considered the same. “What makes you think that is false? Lorian never sides with anyone.”

  “A woman’s intuition?” She answered diffidently.

  “I think not,” The Commander said but his mind was churning and after a moment... “If Hadrian attacks, and specifically him only, we will unite our cause.”

  “There,” she said holding out her hand, “A deal is struck.”

  He bent over her hand again, refusing to put his lips on any part of her for a second time. He brought her to the door and opened it to find a little girl waiting. She wore a simple dress and stood solemnly waiting. When Queen Sani Siria left the girl followed.

  The girl was young, clearly hardly old enough to serve. That fresh new age between child and woman; he could all but smell her innocence. That same darkness, he had carried with him since a young man, bubbled up. He hurried down to the kitchens where his slaves were working. He opened the door and the startled workers came to a halt.

  His gaze went over them until he found a little girl, only twelve or so. She was nearly the same age as the Queen’s little servant. His eyes raked down her form and wondered if she was a little too old. Her blue eyes widened and decided that since she was touched by water, she must be lucky.

  “I want lunch brought to my room immediately,” he said pointing at the girl, “And I want her to bring it.”

  He didn’t wait for compliance as they curtsied and bowed. Instead he returned to his room and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. It didn’t take too long for her to arrive. He didn’t have time for games today, his darkness was demanding. Her scream of terror, when he pulled her dress up and tore away her thin panties, were enough.

  The Commander tore at her clothes with the savagery of a beast. He stared down at her little form as her eyes glossed over and thought of his rage. He hadn’t noticed she had little tits coming in or that the girl was untouched. The blood of her maidenhood only excited him more, as he ruthlessly pounded into her body. His teeth sunk into her breast and she screamed again. He was half tempted to bite them off but he would leave that for another time.

  Chapter 49

  Lancel Storm

  Lancel was not born a man of honor, he was made into one. Eliron had been a boy of thirteen when his uncle died. Although it was unorthodox for any person prior to the age of sixteen to become king, Eliron defied them all. It didn’t take long before he had taken, in his hands, hold of the kingdom and set to finishing the war his ancestors had started all those years ago.

  Lancel stood and listened to King Kaden write his surrender. Lancel didn’t want to be part of Vargos anymore. He didn’t want to be a knight if this was the king he had to serve. He understood they were all scared, but Eliron would not have surrendered to a butcher. All Kaden had wanted was King. Hadrian let him have Vargos, if Kaden recognized him as the rightful king of Roanoak. Every morning he awoke expecting Eliron to come stomping through the door and demand to know what Lancel was thinking. Eliron didn’t like Kaden but he was his oldest male relation—actually he was nearly ten years older than Eliron. Regardless, the man was a spineless eel.

  Which is why, when the surrender was done, Lancel was leaving. He had heard word that Ashira had been spotted leaving Guildafrey with a man. Since her brothers and father were all dead, he hoped that man was Eliron. Kaden had no interest in finding his cousin, he had what he always wanted; he was king. Had it not been dishonorable to kill him, Kaden would be drowning in his own blood.

  “It is done,” Kaden said handing the scroll over.

  Lancel tipped his head before starting to leave the room. He was nearly to the first hall when Hector grabbed his arm. Lancel stopped and gave him a pointed stare. The man was as young as Lancel but twice as ambitious and three times as deadly.

  “Go by the northern gate,” Hector said with a nod before leaving, “Find our king.”

  Lancel was surprised, he had not expected loyalty. Perhaps, like himself, Hector could not abide by surrendering without conflict. He knew the man was not utterly loyal like Lancel, but the man was capable. Worried that his words were more of a warning then just a helpful hint, Lancel went straight to the stables.

  He mounted Ashira’s horse, and unfulfilled birthday gift, and rode out into the city. Everywhere he went, there was outrage at the surrender. They had been fighting war for all their lives and now their new king was lying down like a dog. They were calling for the true Water King and his bride. Some were crying, while others were drunkenly walking.

  Lancel took the northern gate just as Hector said. The gatekeeper waved him through without hesitation and Lancel turned towards Roanoak. There were reports that the King’s men, Rodrick’s men, still held The Maiden’s Gate. King Rodrick had stationed supporters of the union and Lancel hoped it was the same. If not, he would need to find an eagle and fly to Oaken Harbor.

  Lancel picked his way carefully across the countryside, sleeping when it was too dark to travel and idling as long as the sun was up. He could understand the usefulness of horses now; eagles could easily be spotted, but horses you could lose over the next hill. Every night he slept in a fitful state. He would dream of a demon with red eyes, holding Eliron’s severed head while Ashira screamed. Once or twice he awoke covered in sweat and mounted to ride by the moon’s eerie light.

  Every town he passed through, every person he saw, was angry. They wanted their king back, the warrior, not the coward. They didn’t care that his wife was from Roanoak or that he was likely dead. Without a body they hoped, and they prayed. Some even said that Queen Ashira would not have surrendered so easily. Lancel knew that was true; she would have been motivated to ride into Roanoak.

  It was another night of restless sleep and another day’s ride before he saw the first wall. The ruins of the walls of Roanoak; what many called the Lost Walls. There were homes built around the rubble, and a small farm north of where he passed through them. The six walls had once stood tall until Eliron had torn them down; one by one until only two remained.

  The closer he rode the more people he saw; some bearing goods on their backs while others with their work horses and wagons. They looked up at him, his white armor did little to make them wonder what he was. After a child pointed and hurried to his mother, Lancel decided to don on his long cloak. He doubted the boy had ever seen a knight; let alone a knight astride a horse.

  The Maiden’s Gate was open an
d Vargosians were still permitted. Lancel passed through without trouble, into the city beyond. Inside the city, there were guards everywhere and merchants from the Maiden’s Harbor there for trade. It was loud and its odor seemed to overcome every smell. Lancel moved towards the outer gates and discovered it was easy to get into the Maiden’s Gate from Vargos then return to Roanoak.

  The gate was apparently only opened twice a day: once in mid-morning, and again in the early evening a good three hours before the sun set. Lancel stayed close by the gate as he waited, refilled his water and paid for a few more supplies. A young woman with a basket was calling that she had blood oranges from Tiam. Curious, Lancel purchased one and tucked it away for later.

  Ashira had spoken of the blood oranges, telling him they were her favorite. She had told him laughing, that the first batch was also too tart, but she would eat it anyways because she was so excited. By the time the second harvest came, they seemed almost too sweet. He had never had a blood orange, and though there were many treats that the trade route had brought, that was the one he had been most excited for.

  The gate opened soon after and Lancel mounted his horse. The guards were warning Vargosians of the dangers at the ports. Hadrian, the new King, had posted his own men and they could be violent. Lancel streamed out with the rest of the group and continued towards the Maiden’s Harbor. He would need to take a ferry around to the Oaken Harbor. Since Ashira rode north, that harbor was his first stop.

  The ride was slow because he stayed close to the caravan heading towards the port. He wanted to blend in as best he could. When they were nearly to the harbor a man went around collecting the required copper per head. If you wanted to enter the harbor you had to pay a copper and if you had goods you had to pay two. Lancel had to give two since apparently his horse’s head counted, too.

  There was a heaviness in the air at the harbor. Lancel could see their broken hearts, on their faces and in their mournful expressions. These were a people who had been invaded by a hostile force. Even the colors were darker, and the rainbow that he remembered was dim.