The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2)

by Tony Roberts

  “Rather you carried me,” she said, a smile on her face.

  Heller grinned. “Oh I see – its like that, is it?”

  “Mmm…you can bathe me, dry me, comfort me, then we might – ah – reacquaint ourselves.”

  Heller laughed. “Half dead and you’re still thinking of that? I’m impressed!”

  “Hard to kill a dark elf,” she said. “My sword,” she said in alarm as he picked her up.

  Heller reached down and took the sword. His eyes widened at the lightness of it. “So light – yet so strong… elfin steel, got to be.”

  “Mmm,” she nodded. “My special sword.”

  Heller laid it across her chest. “And so it shall remain. Come on, let’s get you cared for.”

  They went to a luxurious room up in the palace proper, and Heller kept his promise. It was much later, as Faer lay in a huge bed, stretched out in comfort and totally relaxed, that she reflected on what Heller had told her. Jerethal’s rule had been dependant on Capel, and to a lesser degree, Theruddas. With both gone the king had lost all support.

  Faer sighed and stretched her arms and legs and smiled happily. The sun was shining through the glass window high up in the wall. A luxury, but palaces only had the best. It warmed her and bathed her in a yellow glow. She felt good. Heller had bathed her and put her to bed, being the attentive man she never thought he’d be. He’d left her and she had slept, for almost a day, so he had told her when she woke. He had been there, waiting for her to rouse herself.

  She had been hungry, both for food and Heller. After the first had been sated, she had proceeded to sate the second. It had been energetic, fulfilling and very pleasurable. Both had exhausted themselves, and Heller had spoken to her then about the changes going on. Prince Sethen had been installed as ruler and his official coronation would be in the coming weeks, around mid-spring. Jerethal had been imprisoned, and what would happen to him now was anyone’s guess, but it was likely he would be executed; leaving a former king alive was extremely risky.

  The battle for Gorradan had been short. Heller and his men had lowered the drawbridge and raised the gates and that had alerted the garrison. By the time they had come in force, Lace had organised a perimeter close to the gatehouse, and the men in the gatehouse used their height to good effect, their crossbows causing havoc.

  There had been an attack on the gatehouse but it had been repulsed with heavy losses, and only three of the defenders had fallen. Once Faer had killed Capel, all the animated beings he had put around the palace and city had reverted to their former state, mostly as statues. It had alerted people that something had happened and the garrison commander had gone to Jerethal and asked for orders, but Jerethal had been dependant on Capel and he was no longer to be found. With the king unable to give a command, the garrison now unable to break through Heller and Lace’s defences and Prince Sethen in the gatehouse proclaiming himself as the rightful ruler, the garrison commander had lost his nerve and surrendered.

  From there Lace had gone to his home to find his wife, while Heller had led the advance to the palace. Only a few die-hards fought on but they were soon overwhelmed and Jerethal thrown into the dungeons. It was then that Faer had been found and Heller insisted he was the one to tend her.

  So now she was alone again. Heller had been called away to his daily duties. Sethen was dispensing orders, collecting a court around him, but being a forceful youth, was not prone to letting some courtier dictate regal policy. He was of the opinion that a king was not one if he needed to be told policy.

  Faer’s future was now up for consideration. “So, what do you think?” she asked herself, rolling onto her side.

  We continue to seek father. Would you even dare think of anything else?

  “No, but I needed to hear what you wished. Heller is a nice distraction, though,”

  Bah. He is a slave to be bound to us. You are too easily swayed by a man’s loins.

  “Didn’t hear you complain when he was hard at it,” she said with a smile. “But true, our future is to carry on with our quest. Father took a lot of trouble to leave us this trail – and I must know what happened to him. I think we go to Selanic to find the next message.”

  Selanic – those fools will not mock us this time, or they will be destroyed.

  “Now, now, not so bloodthirsty. We have to pack and request an audience to say our farewells. It would be bad manners to just go.”

  What of a reward? A mercenary should be recompensed for their time. You are not going to go without something!

  Faer slid out of bed and flexed her legs. They had been put to hard use that morning. Although she was almost back to normal, they ached. Nothing to do with the battle in the dungeon though. Heller would miss her. He had some deep scratches too. He had proudly announced they would be regarded as battle honours.

  Harlot, her other self snapped.

  She laughed. “Oh stop being so grumpy. I felt you cry out once, so don’t give me that.”

  You were screaming all the time. So embarrassing. A dark elf woman does NOT show such satisfaction to a male, especially a human!

  “You’re making that up. Anyway, I wished to enjoy him and did. I don’t care how. Now be quiet. I wish to bathe.” She called out for a servant to come and arrange the bath, and soon enough two young women were tending her. In the middle of her bath a courtier entered the chamber with a scribe. Faer looked up, unfazed by them looking down at her. The servants continued to wash and bathe her, putting sweet smelling oils into her skin. She felt her dark half approve; slaves or servants, how dark elvish.

  “Ma’am,” the courtier bowed stiffly. “The king wishes for your attendance in his throne chamber at the earliest opportunity.”

  Faer wondered whether he was naturally stuffy, or he didn’t care for her freely baring herself to them. Or maybe he disliked elves. Or dark elves. Whatever, she cared not. “I’ll be along presently,” she said. “In the meantime could you please arrange for my horse to be prepared and my belongings packed? Thank you.”

  The courtier’s face reflected complete disapproval, yet he had to obey; the new ruler of Gorradan had been most insistent she was to be obeyed. He cared not for this elf-blood girl speaking to him as if she were some kind of royalty. After all, she was merely a hired sword. A commoner. He bowed and left.

  Faer was dried and dressed in newly-cleaned clothing. It was a relief to have her clothes cleaned and they felt almost like new. She stood before a full-length mirror and studied herself. She critically assessed her looks, her dress, her posture. The face that gazed back at her was one so different to that of just two years ago. She had matured a little, although she still looked extremely youthful. At eighteen years an elf would still be in childhood, but a human was entering adulthood. Faer was somewhere in between. That led to a question that popped into her head; how long would she live? Sixty years was good for a human, yet elves lived for hundreds. Something to ask when the opportunity presented itself.

  Dark eyes looked out at her. Bright, inquisitive, deep. She thought nothing of them, yet others loved to look into them, into the depths of their darkness. Her skin was smooth, deep tan in colour. Her lips were curved, not too slim, and not too full. A slim, upturned nose rested above them, and her hair was much tidier than it had been recently. A little adjustment by the palace barber had got rid of some straggling lengths and now it was neatly cut to her lower neck level down the back, and on either side of her elfin ears to the jawline. It was dark as night and almost seemed to shimmer in sunlight.

  Her body could be described as being wiry, or athletic. She was not blessed with wide hips and a huge chest, but that would not suit her build. Elves tended to be slim and slight of build anyway. She was satisfied with her body size and shape. She had stopped growing and came up to shoulder level of most men.

  A sigh, and then she opened the door of the chamber. Two guards stood outside and they escorted her along the corridors to the throne room, where she had first come to see K
ing Jerethal.

  Now the adolescent King Sethen sat there, surrounded by grown men. She walked confidently along the narrow strip of carpet to the bottom of the throne platform and bowed low. She was commanded to stand and she looked briefly at Heller, dressed in a full outfit of ceremonial armour to one side, and Lace, similarly attired, to the other. Lace still had one arm bound but he looked much better and he was smiling at her.

  “Blade,” King Sethen said, his young voice projected by the acoustics of the large room. “You have performed a huge service to the kingdom, one that may never be properly repaid to you.” He gave her the benefit of a careful scrutiny. “I understand that monetary remuneration is not something that appeals to you?”

  “It does not, your majesty.”

  There came a few sounds of surprise from around the room. The assembled were those who had been out of favour after Jerethal had taken power but were now back, or nobles who had jumped ship and had professed undying support for the new king, or those who had actively helped to put Sethen on the throne. Faer noticed the survivors of the crossbowmen were all there, standing smartly and proudly as members of the elite royal guard.

  Sethen nodded. “Then rewarding you suitably poses me a problem. I understand from General Heller here,” he nodded to one side at the resplendent man, “that you are to leave us today, following a quest.”

  “That is true, sire. I am compelled to follow my fate.” She glanced at Heller. General? She gave him a brief smile, then returned her attention to the young king. “I have everything I need for the moment to continue with my journey.”

  Sethen waved to a courtier behind him. “Indeed, but I must reward you in some manner. As you have just discovered, Heller has been promoted, as has your friend Lace. He is now Baron Lace, noble of Gorradan. I wish to endow upon yourself a title.”

  Faer looked at the king in surprise. “A title, sire?”

  “Baroness of Gorradan. A minor noble title, yet one that is real and carries a certain status in these lands.” He held up a rolled-up scroll. “This is your copy. Another has been placed in the library here, and your ennoblement is being read out over the next few days in this city and other towns of the kingdom. As long as you are in Gorradan, you will be received as a noblewoman.”

  “Thank you, sire, this is surely too much for me!”

  “Nonsense,” Sethen said, waving her objections aside. “How can you repay adequately what you have done for me? Baroness, please take your title.”

  He handed the scroll to a courtier who carried down the wide stone steps on a platter to her. Faer picked it up, then bowed once more. She placed it in her belt. She’d put it away in a small box she had with her saddlebags shortly. Sethen smiled. “Now, before you leave us, I believe you may wish to spend a short time with both Baron Lace and General Heller. I give you three leave. And Blade,” he said as Faer turned to go. “If you ever return to Gorradan, you will be welcome.”

  She smiled, nodded, then turned fully and left the chamber, Lace and Heller close behind her. Those looking on applauded as she passed and she couldn’t stop a pleased smile spreading across her face.

  Outside in the courtyard at the rear of the palace, where her horse was being held by a stable hand, both Lace and Heller spoke their farewells. Lace was first. “I’ve happy you’ve grown into the fine young woman you’ve become,” he said. “But it is a sad thing you’re saying goodbye to us. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

  “I’m sure, Baron,” she grinned at the title. “Your wife will once again lead the life she deserves with a loving husband and a settled, comfortable home. I trust she was unharmed during our absence?”

  “Yes, thank you. Virtually a prisoner in her own home, but now we are re-employing those servants who had to leave and things will return to normal in a short time. What will you do now?”

  “I must return to my origins and find out my fate. It may take me to places beyond the borders of this kingdom; in fact I expect it to. Look after yourself and no more silly rebellions, you hear me?” she smiled at him.

  “Oh, I hear you,” Lace chuckled. “I’m getting too old for that sort of thing. I’ll leave it to the younger generation.” He took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the lips, gently, a light caress. Faer looked at him in surprise, and more than a little pleasure. “If you’re ever in Gorradan please visit – both my wife and I would be delighted to see you again.”

  “I’ll certainly bear that in mind,” Faer said, then turned to Heller as Lace walked back into the palace. “So, General,” she said, “this is goodbye.”

  Heller nodded and took hold of her shoulders. “Baroness. I can’t get used to that.” He kissed her, a lover’s kiss, deep and loving. She eagerly returned it, then after a few moments they parted and stood looking at one another. “Take care, Blade,” he said. “I’d like to see you again, and like the Baron, I’d love you to call on me if you’re ever in these parts. I suppose you’ll be travelling to distant parts?”

  She shrugged. “Depends on where my fate takes me, but I do suspect I’ll be travelling far beyond the shores of this land. For now I must return to my home village, but I doubt I’ll be there for long; I just can’t see that place as being my journey’s end.”

  Heller grunted, then assisted her up onto the saddle. She nodded a thanks and took the reins from the stable hand who trotted off to the stables, his task at an end. Heller stepped back and bowed to her.

  She grinned, then swung the horse’s head around and headed for the double gates at the rear of the courtyard where two guards on duty unlocked then, then swung them open. Heller stood by the doorway into the palace, watching her until she rode out beyond the gates and they swung shut behind her.

  In the streets Faer slowed, then stopped. She took a few deep breaths, looked back over her shoulder and sighed. She would love to stay, but she knew her destiny lay elsewhere, and no matter how much she would love to remain with Heller in the short term, eventually she would feel compelled to follow her father’s trail. She had to know if he was still alive, or not. She had to know what her future was. She reached into one of her pockets. She pulled out a small leather bag and opened it. Inside rested a small ring, the one she had looted from the loscur in the forest. She had yet to get it checked over as to what kind of ring it was. Her mind pondered a few courses of action. She rejected remaining with Heller.

  Therefore, with a heavy heart, she gently encouraged her mount back into motion. The nearest sage would be her next call, then a boat or ship to Selanic. She was not looking forward to returning to that place, but return she must if she was to continue on her quest. And there she may find out what had happened to Markus. She sincerely hoped he was still alive.

  She would discover that in the next couple of days. Her home village would be the next step on her journey to find her destiny, and whether or not she would end up as Queen of the Dark Elves.

  Also by Tony Roberts

  Kastania Series – available in paperback or ebook format

  Empire of Avarice

  Prince of Wrath

  House of Lust

  Path of Pride

  Dark Blade Series – only in ebook format

  Dark Blade

  The Heir of Gorradan

  Siren Series – available in paperback or ebook format

  Siren

  Sirensong

  See www.tonyrobertsauthor.com

  Casca Series – available in paperback or ebook format

  Halls of MontezumaJohnny Reb

  The ConfederateThe Avenger

  Napoleon’s SoldierThe Conqueror

  The AnzacDevil’s Horseman

  Sword of the BrotherhoodThe Minuteman

  Roman MercenaryThe Continental

  The CrusaderBlitzkrieg

  The LongbowmanBarbarossa

  Scourge of AsiaBalkan Mercenary

  Emperor’s Mercenary The Cavalryman

  See www.casca.net

 
  Tony Roberts, The Heir of Gorradan (Chronicles of Faerowyn Book 2)