All three went down in a pile, with Warren screaming that he was dying. Gilmoure recovered his sword from the first dead Triad, and quickly struck down the man who had hit Warren. Brodan recovered from his near miss and held out his sword while Gilmoure scrambled to extricate his friend from the pile of bodies. Aldrick stood with both swords, protecting Gilmoure as the prince wrenched the sword out of the arm of his friend and worked to staunch the copious flow of blood. Warren chose to pass out, either from the pain or the sight of his own blood.
Brodan had a crazed look on his face, and Aldrick was certain he was about to attack. Instead, he lowered his sword and demanded in a desperate whine, “How could you do this to me Aldrick?”
“You did this to yourself Brodan. How could you order the deaths of those men and expect me to do otherwise?”
The rage on the face of the regent slowly transformed into a look of defeat. “I’ve spent my whole life in the palace. I am the only man qualified to be king, and I wasn’t about to lose my crown to a dirty commoner.”
Aldrick risked a glance back at Gilmoure. “Gilmoure has proven himself most uncommon by winning the Tournament fairly. Your father appreciated the rules of the land, and abided by them. Please Brodan, you must give this up! Gilmoure is the king now.”
Brodan’s face contorted in anger and he screamed, “I am the rightful King! You will not take that away from me!” The regent raised his sword. “You traitors must die!”
Aldrick shouted, “Stop!” but it was too late. The regent was beyond all negotiation and Aldrick was forced to defend himself against his wild blows as best he could. He did not wish to kill his friend, but did not know how to bring him out of his berserker rage otherwise.
“Brodan stop, I don’t want to kill you!” Aldrick shouted in a final appeal to bring his lifelong friend to his senses, yet it was clear he was not getting through to him.
“You will have to kill him!” shouted Gilmoure from behind.
“I can’t do that.” Aldrick panted, desperately blocking another wild swing.
What Brodan lacked in skill he made up for with sheer rage. On the defensive, Aldrick was slowly being forced back. Brodan attacked wildly, without thought or temperance. He continually left his chest vulnerable to attack, and yet Aldrick hesitated to strike. He feared that, rather than stopping the crazed regent, he would not be able to avoid delivering a mortal strike. Yet Aldrick knew he was running out of options, and would eventually be forced to strike Brodan, even if it meant killing him.
Brodan left his chest open once again with a particularly wild swing, and Aldrick saw his opportunity. He retracted his arm to deliver what he knew would likely be a killing blow, but hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat. Before he could complete the strike, Gilmoure appeared unexpectedly behind Brodan and struck him rather solidly over the back of the head with a large rock. Aldrick paused, barely managing to hold back his thrust. The regent fell to his knees with a glazed look in his eyes, before toppling over unconscious.
“That takes care of that,” Gilmoure said as he tossed the rock down and brushed his hands together.
Aldrick sheathed his swords, and knelt to check for a pulse. “Thank you Gilmoure.”
“I grew tired of watching the two of you dance. Are you certain you want to keep him alive? I believe we may live to regret that decision.”
Aldrick nodded. “I can’t kill him. He and I have too much history. He’s willful and arrogant, but he was a good man once, and my oldest friend; almost like the brother I never had. I still hold hope that when he wakes I will be able to talk some sense into him.
Gilmoure considered a moment. “You do realize if that fails, as king I will be forced to execute him, or at the very least banish or imprison him.”
“Please don’t execute him. I’m certain some time in prison will bring him to his senses. I may yet be able to save him. How is Warren?”
“I think he’ll live, but he needs a doctor.”
Aldrick stood and looked around at the surrounding carnage. “We should get Warren to Doctor Quintus, and Brodan to a prison cell.” He clapped a hand on the shoulder of his new king and added with a thin smile, “And you my friend, let’s get you a kingdom.”
Chapter 3
With Brodan tightly bound on his horse behind them, they caught up with his plodding train of servants only a league before reentering the city of Akkadia.
Lookouts spotted their approach, and runners were sent out to announce the return of the contestants. By the time the retinue arrived at the opulent gates of the city, large crowds had already gathered to see the man who would be their new leader. The crowd cheered and shouted in excitement as they eagerly awaited the news of the victor.
A group of children ran out, jumping and dancing about the horses, and fighting over the right to hold the reins and escort them into the city. The crowd roared as the bedraggled survivors rode through the great gates and into the city.
The excited crowd began to fall quiet when they spotted Brodan tied to his horse, glaring around him. Word of his state ran through the crowd, and the sounds of questions and demands began to intermingle with the cheers.
The crowd parted ahead of them as a large group of nobles and advisors approached, followed by some of the palace staff. Adrias rushed ahead of the group with Jelénna close behind, and Aldrick jumped from his horse to greet them.
A scowling Felinus stepped forward, followed closely by two other nobles that Aldrick did not recognize. Tiberius was there with Gormond, and several other nobles were spread out behind. Jarvus trailed behind with his arms crossed, and a knowing smile on his face.
“What is the meaning of this?” Felinus demanded in a loud voice. “Why has the regent been bound?”
The crowd began to quiet, hoping to learn what had transpired.
“Step aside, Felinus,” Aldrick said. “All will be revealed in time.”
“Not good enough!” Felinus demanded. Stepping over to the former regent, he grabbed the reins of his horse. “Why have you made the son of the king a prisoner?”
At his words, the crowd began to whisper urgently. Aldrick could hear the crowd whispering questions of whether Brodan was the new king, and if so, why had he been made a prisoner? Brodan saw his opportunity, and shouted over the crowd.
“My people listen to me! These traitors before you have taken me, your rightful king, prisoner! I am the true king of Asturia!”
Gasps could be heard all around them, followed by angry mutterings. Aldrick raised his hands to the crowd. “That is a lie! By his own admission, Brodan is responsible for the deaths of the other contestants. We are not traitors!”
The crowd swelled about them, clearly confused about whom to believe. More people arrived in the square as word spread, all asking what was happening, and arguments began to break out as people began to take sides.
“They are traitors!” Brodan screeched. “Traitors, traitors, traitors!!”
Aldrick tried again to quell the rising ire of those gathered around him, but he could not be heard above the crowd. Supporters of the former regent began pushing their way forward to join Felinus, who was attempting to free the prisoner. Aldrick leapt to stop him, while shouting at Jelénna to take Adrias and go with Tiberius and get to safety. It was clear a mob was beginning to form, and he feared that violence was inevitable.
Struggling to stop Felinus from untying Brodan, Aldrick was considering striking the noble, regardless of the consequences, when supporters pushed in against them. The crowd shouted angry demands as more people pushed into the square.
An angry supporter punched him, and Aldrick was pushed back as Felinus tried once again to aid the struggling regent. Aldrick cursed and was reaching for his swords when the riot around him suddenly became still. Gasps and hushed whispers buzzed through the crowd but the forward rush had come to a near standstill.
Aldrick glanced back to see Gilmoure standing atop the base of the statue of dead Hermanus, one arm raised high ab
ove his head. In his hand, gleaming bright gold in the afternoon sun was the shining crown of Asturia.
“Behold, the crown of the true king!” Gilmoure announced in a loud voice. “I have found and returned with the prize of the Crown Run. By the rules of the Tournament, I am your new king!”
There was a slight pause, and then the crowd erupted. Aldrick glanced around worriedly, but almost everyone was cheering wildly for the new king and chanting, “Long live the king!” City guards began pushing their way through the crowd, working to restore peace.
Gilmoure gave the golden crown a dramatic flourish, before placing it on his head amidst another burst of cheering. Giving the crowd one of this trademark smiles, he said in a much quieter voice, “A perfect fit! I sincerely doubt the former regent could even get the crown onto his fat head!”
A few onlookers who were close enough to hear his remark laughed, but the rest of the crowd continued to cheer obliviously. Most of those in the crowd began making way for the rest of the city guards, who were arriving to aid their fellows in restoring order. Seeing he had their support, Gilmoure shouted, “Guards, please arrest the former regent on charges of murder and treason!”
Seeing they were beaten, the supporters of the former regent backed away from Brodan, and melded into the crowd. Felinus scowled at Aldrick, but spun and stalked away before he could say anything. City guards surrounded Brodan and began leading him to the palace dungeon, while the former regent struggled against his bonds and screamed that Gilmoure was the true traitor.
Gilmoure hopped down from his impromptu perch and approached Aldrick, but a crowd of guards, nobles and others who were looking to meet the new king quickly surrounded him. Aldrick turned to Warren who still sat atop his horse with a pained expression.
“You need to get to Doctor Quintus my friend, and I think Gilmoure is going to be rather busy.”
Warren nodded. Noting the look of confusion on his face, Warren asked, “What’s wrong Aldrick?”
“I’m trying to remember which way it is.”
Chapter 4
Aldrick returned to the square after managing to get Warren safely to Doctor Quintus, to discover that Gilmoure was still there greeting the remainder of the now mostly scattered crowd. City guards stood about the square keeping order while the populace waited to meet the new king. Children ran about the square shouting and playing, enjoying the remainder of what had become an impromptu holiday.
There was no sign of his family or the other nobles, but one of the guards recognized Aldrick and allowed him to pass. Gilmoure grinned when he spotted him. “Aldrick, I’m glad to see you. I was told you took Warren to see the physician.”
Aldrick nodded. “He went into surgery almost immediately. Don’t worry, Doctor Quintus will take care of him.”
“Thank the All Father,” Gilmoure smiled. “Tiberius sent word that your family was safely back in the palace. I imagine you’ll want to go and see them.”
“Yes, I was hoping to,” Aldrick agreed. “I should be off then.”
“I’ll join you,” Gilmoure said. “I’m well aware of the responsibilities of the king to his people…that is, in theory anyway. But I have to get out of here or I’ll go mad.”
With that, he turned and gave a quick speech to the remaining crowd, thanking them for sharing in his victorious return and promising a new era for the country. He finished with a wish that he could speak to each and every one of them individually, but that alas, duty called, and he had to leave.
There were a few groans of disappointment, but the remaining crowd cheered as the two, with several guards trailing behind, left the square and made their way towards the palace. Aldrick could not help but wonder at how quickly the commoner was fitting into the role of monarch.
They arrived at the steps of the palace to find Jarvus waiting for them at the apex. The carved busts of past rulers stared at them as they climbed the long marble staircase. Aldrick winced a little in anticipation of what the cantankerous old servant would say to Gilmoure.
They arrived at the top of the stairs and Jarvus merely bowed and said, “Greetings Gilmoure, welcome to the palace of Akkadia. My name is Jarvus. I’m the head servant here, and if there is anything you need, I shall be the one to attend to it.”
Aldrick was speechless at his courteous manner, but Gilmoure took it in stride and acknowledged the greeting cheerfully. Jarvus went on to announce that the palace advisors were waiting to meet the man who would be the new king of Asturia, and if it pleased Gilmoure to follow him, he would lead the way.
As they walked through the grand entrance and into the palace, Jarvus turned to Aldrick and said, “Your wife and…boy are there with Tiberius. He felt you should accompany us so that you don’t get lost.”
“I wouldn’t…” Aldrick began, but Jarvus had already turned and marched ahead.
Aldrick sighed but followed along, chatting with Gilmoure about the history of Asturia, and the many wonderful relics that lined the halls of the palace along their route. Aldrick suppressed a shudder as they passed the disturbing painting of Sargon the Destroyer atop his hill of destruction. The lifelike eyes of the dark mage followed him as they walked down the hall.
They arrived at a pair of beautifully carved doors, and Jarvus grasped the golden handle of the one on the right. He paused briefly, giving Gilmoure a look of pity. “You might want to brace yourself for this.”
“I’m not afraid of a few palace nobles,” Gilmoure grinned.
Aldrick was almost certain he detected a ghost of a smile on the face of the crotchety old servant, but Jarvus had already turned and swung open the majestic doors to the throne room.
They strode into the grand hall, which for all its rich furnishings, beautiful tapestries and highly polished dark wooden walls and floors, managed to remain an airy, friendly and inviting space. In the middle of the spacious room several men were gathered, separated into two distinct groups. Though they were all clearly nobles, the group on the right stood out from the others by their extremely affluent and fashionable attire. They were clustered around Felinus, who sported his customary foppish hat and rich velvet coat.
Tiberius––standing with the more humble group on the left––smiled at their entrance. Dressed in his preferred simple, yet clean robes he was perhaps the one notable exception to fashion in the room.
Jarvus announced in a loud voice, “Gentlemen, I have the honor to introduce to you the new king of Asturia, by virtue of his stunning triumph in the Crown Run and the Tournament of the King!”
Tiberius stepped ahead of his group and extended his hand, but before he could speak Felinus interjected. “He isn’t the king yet.”
Jarvus ignored the outburst and introduced Tiberius. Gilmoure shook his hand with a smile. “I’m very happy to meet you Tiberius. I’ve heard great things about you, and as it turns out, I owe your son my life.”
Tiberius beamed. “I’ve always been extremely proud of him.”
Felinus coughed loudly and stepped forward. Giving Jarvus a rude look, he said, “The palace advisors should be introduced in order of importance!”
Jarvus gave the noble a thin smile. “I’m sure that’s what I was doing.”
Felinus scowled, but before he could retort, Jarvus continued. “If the king should ever require advisement on the current state of fashion in the kingdom, or find himself in need of tutoring on the fine art of pomposity, then I recommend he seek Felinus’ council immediately.”
Gilmoure laughed loudly. “Felinus, is it? Yes, I’ve heard of you. I’ll be sure to look you up should I require any of those things…as unlikely as that may seem.”
Felinus was left sputtering as Gormond––with the front of his stained robes stretched tight across the vast expanse of his belly––approached and introduced himself. “And Gormond here, my king. That is, Gormond, son of Gormond. Please ask me if you need any advice on good food!”
“I see,” Gilmoure grinned. “You look like a man who knows his way arou
nd the kitchen.”
Gormond nodded and patted his belly. “I like food.”
Jarvus rolled his eyes, and quickly moved on to introduce the other senior advisors standing in the group on the left, most notably Lanford, son of Eddings and Narrek son of Donaldson, whom he noted often worked closely with Tiberius. Each man bowed in turn, greeting Gilmoure with respect.
An inconspicuous looking man peeked out from behind the still fuming Felinus. Jarvus introduced him saying, “Oh, I nearly forgot, this is Phalstave, son of Parris. He is an…associate of Felinus. I’m not certain what topics of value he can advise you in, but perhaps you will find something for him to do.”
Phalstave frowned and bit his lip, looking embarrassed. He quickly recovered however, and mumbled a greeting while shaking hands with Gilmoure.
The Key of Creation: Book 02 - Journey to Khodara Page 3
