by Rob Donovan
“Time is of the essence. The King needs to be warned of this assembly of the Glooms and Xandamon. He needs to hear it in person. I cannot trust a crow with such a task. At the same time, what we now face in Vashna, Cordane and the Glooms is far beyond the power of men. I must seek assistance from the Custodian’s in the Marsh of the Night. I am an accomplished witch and my powers increase every day, but I have not yet mastered the art of being in two places at once. I will have to send Janna to warn the King.”
Cody pictured his daughter’s face. It was the face of the girl he had left behind, not the grown-up illusion he saw at the Stones of Sorrow. He wondered if that was how she really looked now. Kaitlyn had looked like both the woman he had left and the woman he saw on the bridge in the snow. He tried to imagine his reunion with his daughter and every time he tried he saw the scattered bodies at Compton and Tristan’s severed head.
Lilyon was only two days out of his way. He said he was not obligated to anyone but was that true? He had sworn an oath as a Knight. Next to him Janna stirred and sat up with a yawn. She smiled at him and then at Marybeth.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cody said.
Chapter 2
Prince Althalos opened his eyes to see Shana pouring a jug of orange juice into two glasses. She had a light blue silk wrap around her shoulders, otherwise she was naked. Naked and perfect. On a tray, next to the jug were a freshly sliced melon, some toast and a few hard-boiled eggs. He smiled at the sight. She had not noticed that he was awake and he watched as she pushed her arms back to stretch her back. Her hair fell evenly over her arms and fluttered in the breeze which flowed through the window.
"You didn't have to do that," Althalos said and smiled as Shana gave a start. She placed a hand to her heart and smiled.
"You scared me. I didn't realise you were awake."
"Well I am. Awake and a little concerned that you were able to rise from our bed and make breakfast without me even stirring." Shana blushed. "What?" The Prince sat up suddenly alarmed. What had he said to embarrass this perfect woman?
"You said 'our' bed," she said.
Althalos relaxed and slumped back against the pillow. "I did, didn't I? He smiled at the idea. "Well, you've slept in it enough of late. I think everyone knows we are together by now."
"Morag certainly does."
"She would have been pretty stupid not too," the prince said thinking back to a month ago when he had sneaked into Shana's room after penetrating the White City.
"She still pretends that night never happened," Shana said and laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh. The kind the soldiers labelled as "dirty." Althalos loved the sound and found himself chuckling too.
"I can't see how she can. She had her ear pressed to the door. There was no way she could not have heard the screams of passion."
"Yes, you were rather loud that night," Shana said and then squealed as Althalos hit her with the pillow. The two wrestled briefly; the Prince letting Shana gain the upper hand until she straddled him. Her wrap had fallen off in the fight and she sat on him completely naked. He instantly hardened. She felt him and raised an eyebrow.
"Your eggs will get cold. I made them easy the way you like it."
"I like my eggs like I like my woman."
This time it was Shana who grabbed the pillow. They tussled briefly before making love. It was so natural between them, instinctively knowing what the other desired, when to go fast and when to slow things down. Shana was the first woman the Prince had ever been with but he could not imagine anything better. He also had no desire to find out. As Prince, he attracted plenty of interest but none of them excited him like Shana. The woman was strong, intelligent, brave and most of all independent. It was immediately apparent to him that she was interested in him and not his title. She had always been professional around him but never afraid and never sycophantic.
As the Prince plopped the last of the melon into his mouth, he wiped his chin with a napkin, making sure his beard was clean. He noticed Shana had barely touched her food. She saw him looking at her full plate.
"I ate too much melon as I was preparing breakfast," she said with a tight smile. Althalos was not convinced but knew better than to question her. If she did not fancy breakfast who was he to question her. She was her own woman after all.
Althalos stood and began to get dressed. He pulled on trousers and walked over to the window. Outside, Lilyon sprawled before him. One month on and the City had undergone a lot of repairs; however, it would take a long time before the capital was restored to its former glory. Most of the work undertaken so far was to shore up the defences. The Prince could see little point in rebuilding inside the White City when the likelihood of more attacks was inevitable. Vashna's army remained camped on the horizon like a dark cloud threatening an almighty storm. The Warlord of Yurisdoria had arrived a few days ago and begun to set up camp. So far neither side had sent a messenger to each other although scouts had reported the other three Warlords, Gambon, Kana and Lord Frindolin had not joined Vashna's army. The Prince assumed this is who Vashna was waiting for but he could not be sure. The Warlord had not mobilised his army in any shape or form.
The Prince had ordered Calloway to return to Lilyon as soon as he learned of Vashna's imminent arrival. The Warlord had arrived yesterday and Vashna had allowed the Aselinians to pass their camp without as much as a warning arrow. The combined forces of Unger and Tulber were already inside the City. Althalos had only permitted one Warlord to return to his home region at a time in case Lilyon had attacked. It had proved a successful decision and one the Warlords agreed with.
He looked at the trees which sprawled to the right of the City; a patchwork of colours: red, yellow, brown and orange. Fall had arrived. His father had ordered many of them which were too close to the city walls to be cut down believing all his enemies had to do was to light a fire and it would pose a risk to the city's defence. If only he had known what was about to come. A few trees made little difference to the flying Glooms.
He heard Shana begin to tidy away the breakfast things.
"Don't do that."
"It is my job. I don't want that to change."
Althalos nodded. "Well do it in a minute then."
"No, I have other jobs to do. Morag does not give me any special treatment just because the Prince has taken a shine to me. Besides, you need to get going."
Althalos sighed and leaned against the window frame. "I suppose I do."
Shana stopped what she was doing and wrapped her arms around the Prince, kissing his back where his shoulder blades met. "Is he no better?"
Althalos thought of his father's haggard appearance, the haunted look in his eyes and the way he flinched at every sound. Since his return he had spent the majority of time in his private quarters in isolation. Only Althalos and a few servants were permitted to see him. Althalos was overjoyed when his father had been spotted walking towards the city gates. He had rushed through the City to meet his father as the excited yammer of the people announced the King had returned. He had dreamed of that reunion for weeks and could scarcely believe the Gods had been so kind to permit it.
The sight of his father, however, had halted him as he ran to meet him. He could not believe his father could look so ill. The man had always been a pillar of strength, confidence would ooze from him and he had held his chin aloft regal and imperious. The man that stumbled towards him aided by a young girl could easily have been mistaken for a beggar in the lower levels. His clothes were torn, he was painfully thin and his beard was long and unkempt. Tears had filled the Prince's eyes but they were more tears of pity than of elation.
Now the King may have more meat on his bones and appear cleaner but he was far from the man Althalos knew and loved.
"No, he is no better," he admitted reluctantly
"From what you said he has been through a lot."
"We all have," Althalos said irritably and shrugged Shana off lightly and began to pull on a shirt. "It is not just what he ha
s endured. His story does not add up. There are parts which appear inconsistent and even contradict each other."
"You mean the Mantini lizard?"
Althalos scoffed. "The Mantini lizard! How am I supposed to tell the other warlords about a mythical creature he has supposedly slain? They are already concerned he has not held an audience with them." Althalos fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, he did four of them up before he realised he had fastened them wrong. He growled and began undoing them.
"You don't believe him?"
"Would you?"
"That is not what I asked."
Althalos sighed and began the process of doing the buttons up again. "Before he went away, I would have believed every word my father uttered. Now? There is something different about him. Something that eats away at him and I can't fathom what it is. Whilst he was gone, I learned so much and I also saw how others perceived him. I used to think he could fly to the moons if he wanted to, now...there is just so much he got wrong in ruling the Kingdom. So much he neglected."
"Do you believe he killed the Mantini lizard?" Shana prompted.
Althalos finished buttoning the shirt only to discover he had one button left over at the collar. "Oh, for Gloomsake," he said and ripped the shirt open, buttons popped everywhere and scattered across the tiled floor. He screwed the shirt up and threw it towards a corner of the room. It unravelled and floated in the air landing far shorter than the corner as if mocking how petulant he was acting. He ignored the shirt and moved to the edge of the bed, sitting with his head in his hands. Shana picked up the shirt and buttons and placed them in a basket. She went to his wardrobe and retrieved another shirt.
"I don't think I do," Althalos admitted. "I think my father thinks he killed something and maybe he did. But it was not a Mantini Lizard, a bear maybe or something big. He had been incarcerated with minimal food and water. He may have been hallucinating. I just don't know."
Shana held the new shirt behind him and the Prince reluctantly put his arms in the sleeves. "You don't have to tell anyone about the Mantini Lizard. Your father is hardly shouting about it from the rooftops."
"No, but it wouldn't surprise me if he did."
"You mentioned other inconsistencies?" Shana pushed Althalos's hands away as he attempted to button up the shirt. Instead she did it for him.
"I doubt his story over how Longshaw and Mansuri died. They were far too competent to succumb to bandits. It is odd that my father was the only survivor."
Shana paused what she was doing. "I thought you said they died protecting him, they fought so he could run away to safety?"
"That is one version of the story. In another he told me he was the only one that survived the fight. Even so there is no way the King I knew would have abandoned his Knights."
"The King you knew?"
"The King, the father or even the man I knew. Take your pick. He has changed Shana. I don't know how to be around him."
"You've changed too. Don't get me wrong, you've changed for the better. But you've had a lot more constants in your life. The King has had everything he knew before this mess stripped away from him. He has undergone a dramatic change and come back to a home he does not recognise and perhaps a son he does not remember. It will take him time. It will take both of you time."
Althalos stood and buttoned the last two buttons himself. When he finished he flattened the creases on the shirt and nodded his thanks to Shana. "You are quite the wise lady you know that?"
"Of course, I do. I'm just surprised it has taken you this long to realise that fact." She walked to Althalos and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Go see your father. Try to understand what is going on with him and don't worry about what the Warlord's think." With that, Shana exited the room leaving the Prince alone.
"If only it were that easy," he said to the empty room and then feeling stupid for talking to no one, left the room and walked to his father's quarters. When he reached them, the door was shut? He knocked lightly and waited. There was no response. He knocked for a second time with more authority.
"Who is it?" Jacquard said from within. His voice was soft and timorous. Althalos hated how it sounded.
"It's me," he said irritably and then recalling Shana's words only moments before he cleared his throat and spoke in a softer tone. "It is me, father."
"Come in," the King replied and Althalos could not tell if his father was pleased to hear his son's voice or not.
Althalos pushed open the door and found the room in darkness with the drapes closed. It also smelled musky and the Prince detected a whiff of his father's body odour; a rich, redolent sweat which was not altogether unpleasant, reminding him of his youth. He half expected the King to still be in bed, but the covers were neat, or the bed not slept in the Prince thought. King Jacquard sat in a chair in the corner with his hands resting in his lap. The King's legs bobbed up and down which caused his head to nod as if the King was rocking himself back and forwards. Althalos had known men escorted to the sanctuary cells for behaving in a similar fashion. The Prince took in his father's wrinkles, the way his eyes darted about like gnats and saw the liver spots like shadows on the King's neck and could not take it anymore.
"Stop that," he said, ignoring Shana's words of advice which screamed inside his head. His father flinched as if struck and shrank back further into the chair.
"Stop what?" Jacquard said.
Althalos strode passed him and flung open the drapes sending shards of light into the room. He half expected the King to recoil by the sudden intrusion of the light and was relieved when the King looked at him with eyebrows raised. "Stop looking so feeble. You are the King of Frindoth. Start acting like it."
For a moment Jacquard merely stared back at his son. Dust motes floated before them disturbed by the Prince's sudden movement. The King inhaled, puffed out his chest and for a second Althalos caught a glimpse of the man he knew to be his father. It did not last. The King's shoulders sagged and to Althalos's horror, his father began to sob.
Althalos did not know whether to rush to comfort his father or flee from the room. In the end, he settled for locking the door and sitting on the edge of the bed. He stared out of the window, listening to his father's heavy sobs and fought the urge to look at him. He did not want to see his father like this. Could not see him like this. This was not who he needed his father to be. He had yearned for him to come back and take the burden off his shoulders. Not to come back and add to it.
"I'm so sorry my son," Jacquard said in between sobs. “Don’t be,” Althalos said. “I don’t want your remorse.”
“I know you don’t. You want my strength. You want me to take the burden from you so you can go back to how it was before the Ritual of the Stones.”
“Isn’t that what we agreed? When you surprised everyone by announcing that I would lead Frindoth’s army? Wasn’t it supposed to be that I would lead the army until you came back from fighting the Gloom? I don’t think I am being unreasonable here. I am only asking that you hold up your end of the bargain.”
Althalos finally turned and looked at his father. He had stopped crying but tear tracks were visible on his cheek like slender, silver scars.
“No, you are not being unreasonable,” Jacquard finally said. The fight went out of the Prince then. He had not expected his father to agree with him.
“What happened to you in the Calipion range? I mean what really happened?”
Jacquard opened his mouth as if to respond with the same stock answer he seemed to have rehearsed since he returned to Lilyon but then thought better of it. He closed his mouth and stood. Althalos was pleased to see his legs did not shake as he did so. The King strode over to the window.
“Vashna is still out there?”
“Yes.”
“And he has made no effort to contact us?”
“No,” the Prince smiled at the mention of ‘us.’
“Why do you think that is?”
Althalos inhaled deeply. His father did this often; ans
wered a question with a series of unrelated questions whilst he found the right words to say. He had little time for it today but still found himself indulging his father.
“Hard to say, the Vashna I know would not behave this way. If he meant to attack he would have done so instantly whilst we were still fortifying the walls. At the very least he would not have turned up without the other Warlords. I’ve sent scouts in every direction and there is no sign that they are trying to surround us.
There are also rumours of conflict between Kana and Vashna. The Warlord of Shangon apparently tried to assassinate Vashna and his men.”
“You think Kana has decided to re-join us?”
“I don’t think anyone knows what Kana is up to. He is a man we have seriously underestimated.”
Jacquard nodded. “There have been many.”
“So, I don’t know what to think. I have tried reaching out to Vashna but our messenger was turned away. He is waiting for something I am just not sure what.”
Jacquard turned back to his son and sat by his side. “Your thoughts echo mine. They always have. It is why I know you could lead the eastern army and why I know you will make a good King. Your instincts are better though. I would have issued Vashna an ultimatum. Either he takes his army and leaves or surrenders himself.”
“I was considering that option.”
“No, you weren’t. Death was always the last choice for you.”
Althalos pulled a face. He was not so sure about that anymore. Vashna’s strange behaviour was one of the reasons he longed for his father to resume his rightful place on the throne. He was at a loss as to what to do and as usual the Warlords all disagreed with each other: Unger wished to crush Vashna before the Yurisdorians could mobilise their army properly, Tulber did not trust Vashna’s relaxed attitude to his defence and believed the Warlord had devised a ruse to encourage Althalos’s men to attack and therefore leave the safety of the castle walls. Calloway as usual refused to be drawn in the petty squabbling and believed Vashna was an honourable man who would make his intentions clear before long.
