by H. M. Clarke
At least now he did not have to worry about Fellian pestering and whining to him about what she thinks he should and should not do. Garrick’s last straw regarding Fellian was broken when, on the night of the war meeting, his father’s mistress tried to turn her seductions onto him. Fellian is a beautiful woman to look at but Garrick knew that her soul is black and dead of joy and was repulsed by her.
She had crawled uninvited into his bed while he slept and – Garrick could not even think of what she tried to do and he shivered in remembered revulsion. He had thrown her out of his bed and yelled at her to leave his rooms immediately. The woman had quickly picked up the flimsy robe she had worn and scuttled as quickly as she could through his outer rooms and vanished naked into the hallway. By the One’s sake, she was supposed to be carrying his father’s child (though Garrick did not believe one word of that). The next morning she had left Darkon to go back to Hered where, even now she would be whispering lies into his father’s ear. But he should not be thinking of her – at least not today.
Murmuring at the door resolved itself into the large form of Garrick’s Chief Advisor, Lord Willard Malchance, Duke of Morcar. He had arrived from the Capital a day after his father’s mistress left for it. The news he had bought with him was not good. Garrick’s father had collapsed again into another illness. This time the court Physicians did not think he would recover.
Malchance had made sure that there were Physicians in Garrick’s pay attending him. Both had worried that lately the Emperor had fallen ill to many times to be judged ‘natural’.
Garrick rose from the table to greet his friend with a warm smile. “Good Morning Malchance, if you were a little earlier we could have broke our fast together.”
“Thank you for the offer Your Grace but you know that I do not eat on a sleepy stomach.”
Garrick laughed and clapped a hand on the Duke’s shoulder. Garrick had never known Malchance to eat anything before noon. The man had always said that to eat early was to slow a man down. The Duke of Morcar is a tall, well built man in his late thirties with thick dark hair and neatly clipped black beard. Today, as always, he was dressed in the finest materials that had been tailored into a simple court style.
Garrick gestured for the Duke to take a seat opposite at his breakfast table and both men then sat down in the comfortable padded chairs. After a moment Garrick waved to his servants to clear away his breakfast dishes.
Once this was done he issued an order to be left alone. Once the last man had gone Garrick’s stiff frame slumped into his chair and the forced cheerfulness he had been exhibiting all morning fell away.
“What brings you here so early, Wil?” Garrick asked as he refilled his goblet with mulled wine and then offered some to Malchance.
The Duke shook his head slightly at the offer. “I thought you could do with the company this morning considering what day this is.”
Garrick’s mouth set in a tight line as the image of pale flesh covered in a tangle of long, dark hair flashed before his eyes. He drained the contents of his goblet and briefly considered refilling it before placing it back empty on the table.
“Caitin was too young to die,” Garrick murmured.
“Of course she was and we all know who orchestrated it don’t we,” Malchance leaned forward in his chair, the fury clearly seen blazing in his eyes.
“Please. Not today. Do not mention that woman’s name aloud today.” Garrick was already ashamed of his earlier thoughts on that woman.
Malchance settled back in his chair as Garrick raised a finger in warning.
“Very well, I won’t. But it galls me that she still walks this earth while my sister Caitin lies beneath it.”
Garrick’s anger at Malchance suddenly evaporated. It was very easy to forget that others as well as himself loved Caitin.
“Stay with me today Wil so we can talk about old times. I think both of us do not wish to be left alone on the Anniversary of Caitin’s death.”
Garrick poured himself another goblet of wine and sat back in his chair. He held the cup close to his chest where the warmth of the wine penetrated the gloom that had descended around them.
Both men sat in silence with their thoughts.
Garrick and Caitin were both very young when they married. They had only just turned fifteen. The ink had not quite dried on the marriage contracts when Caitin fell pregnant on their wedding night. The next nine months were the happiest in his life, and then Caitin died in childbirth. He was grief-stricken at the news but was filled with hope when the midwife told him that his daughter still lived.
Malchance who was with him while he waited suddenly stormed into the birth chamber and lifted the swaddled baby from the arms of the Emperor’s new mistress – Fellian. He then carried her out to meet her father. Glancing briefly at his daughter to reassure himself that she lived, Garrick then entered the chamber with the midwife protesting and imploring him to wait until the Princess Caitin had been made presentable.
Garrick ignored her and burst into the room to see Caitin’s pale flesh smeared with blood and her long black hair was tangled in sweat and tears.
Garrick dragged his thoughts away from that single moment. It was at that moment that he knew his wife had not died a natural death. His brother-in-law had never liked his father’s mistress and already thought she was involved with the death of Garrick’s mother only a few months before. It was that night that both Garrick and Malchance began to formulate the plan for the hiding of this delicate, beautiful, perfect little baby, (Garrick could not help but smile at the thought of his daughter), from the machinations of Fellian.
The problem was that it had never seemed safe to bring her back to her true family until it was too late to do anything without showing their hand to their enemies.
“How is Kalena?” Malchance knew what was on his mind.
“She has grown to be the spitting image of her mother Wil. Did you know that she is a Wing Commander now?” Garrick could not help the pride in his voice. Both his brother and his daughter are Wing Commanders. “Provost Marshall Brock has sent her Wing North with that of Harada’s.”
“Was letting her go really a good idea?” The concern Malchance felt for a niece he had not seen in eighteen years was clear in the man’s voice.
“Harada is with her. He’ll make sure that nothing happens to her. Also Fraser Vosloo is flying with her as added protection. I have placed Fraser in direct command of the two Wings to ensure that they are protected.”
“I had heard last night that you had pissed off the two Justicars that are with the freemen army by making Vosloo and the Wings independent from their control.” A sly grin showed through Malchance’s black beard.
“Yes. Inman was not happy about it. But I am worried about the second Justicar.” Garrick took a sip from his goblet and grimaced. The mulled wine had gone cold.
“Why? From what I understand he is only Inman’s new lackey.” Malchance must have noticed Garrick’s grimace as he reached across and took the nearly empty wine pitcher as he spoke. He then got up and went to the fire to refill the pitcher from the wine pot that was warming on the hearth.
“Inman’s new ‘lackey’ just happens to be Videan Tsarland, Kalena’s foster brother.” Garrick said as he placed his goblet on the table and slouched further into his chair.
“Does he know anything?” The Duke placed the wine ladle back into the pot and carried the newly filled pitcher back to the table.
“If he does he has given no indication of it.”
Malchance seated himself at the table and poured himself a cup of the mulled wine. “If Inman hasn’t shown any knowledge of who Kalena really is then maybe this Videan doesn’t know anything.” The Duke took a quick swig of his drink. “As far as anyone is concerned, the official version is that Kalena Thurad, your Royal daughter, has been fostered to live with my uncle in Istay to learn the countries language and customs.”
“That fabrication cannot last forever. She is now eight
een years old and should by rights be on her way back to Suene to take her rightful place as my heir. But that cannot happen, not until I have neutralized Fellian and all her cur supporters.”
“You have asked Vosloo to keep an eye on Videan then?” Malchance shifted in his chair. Malchance had never really got on well with Fraser Vosloo, especially after the Captain’s sister died. It wasn’t anything personal; it was just that the Duke did not like the man.
“Yes I have.”
“Is that wise considering Inman-“
“Leave it be Wil. Fraser has promised me that Inman will not cloud his reasoning.”
Malchance quickly closed his mouth on what he was about to say and sat staring across the table at Garrick. Garrick ignored his friend’s scrutiny and quickly tossed back the rest of his cold wine and rose from the table to perch on the window ledge to look down onto the manicured lawns three storey’s below.
“Garrick, will you stick with the plans we started eighteen years ago today?”
Malchance’s voice was so quiet that Garrick barely heard it. What they had begun to plan so long ago had now evolved from just trying to protect his young daughter into a treason against his father. A fate that he was forced into by his father’s unwillingness to see what was happening around him.
Garrick turned hardened eyes to look at Malchance.
“I have already desecrated the sacred law by allowing my first born child to become a Hatar Kalar Wil. I will not stop now until I am Emperor and Kalena and all her kind are freed.”
Chapter Five
The Messenger Arrives
Frantic knocking at the door interrupted the two men.
Garrick grimaced in annoyance while Malchance lifted himself from his chair and quickly opened the door to see who would interrupt the two men after Prince Garrick had asked to be left alone.
After a few moments of whispered speech at the door, the Duke of Morcar turned worried eyes towards his Prince.
“You Grace, there is a Hatar Kalar downstairs with a message that he has been instructed only to speak to your ears alone.”
“A Hatar Kalar?” Garrick slowly rose from the windowsill. “What Wing are they from?”
Malchance hesitated a moment before replying, unsure of what to say. “He’s from Second Wing, Second Flight Your Grace.”
“He?” Hopes that it was Kalena downstairs was dashed. Garrick knew his disappointment sounded clear in his voice. He quickly banished his regret. “Wil, have him bought up to see me straight away.”
Malchance nodded and turned and murmured again to the man waiting in the corridor. Then he closed the door on the man’s retreating footsteps. The worry had not left the Duke’s face.
“What else did you hear Wil?”
Malchance stayed standing near the door, his hand resting on the handle. “The man and his beast have flown over sixteen hours non-stop to get here. The Hatar collapsed exhausted on the landing field and apparently the man looks to have been dragged through death and back. He’s nearly killed himself bringing you whatever it is he’s carrying.”
At the Duke’s words Garrick felt a warning premonition run through his body. His eyes gazed over and he saw again the flash of pale flesh and tangled black hair. But this time he knew it was not Caitin. Garrick blinked and the vision disappeared and he turned distraught eyes to Malchance.
“Something has happened to Kalena.”
As Garrick spoke there was a single rap at the door and Malchance immediately opened the door to admit the waiting Hatar Kalar.
The man slowly walked across the threshold and Garrick could see it was only the Kalar’s force of will that was keeping the man upright. He was covered from head to feet in fine red dust that had clotted in the moisture about his eyes, nose and mouth. Exhaustion dripped from his body and Garrick could plainly see the blood caked lacerations inflicted on hands and face.
The Kalar must have hung on for dear life, collecting every grain of dirt and flying insect in the sky as the Hatar flew as fast as it was able to get to Darkon.
Bloodshot eyes looked to Malchance and then, slowly, drifted to Garrick.
“My Prince…” the Kalar’s grating voice cracked and failed.
Garrick stepped forward towards the fellow, grabbing his breakfast chair as he passed and carried it quickly over to the Kalar. The man weakly shook his head in protest but the Prince ignored him and, with the help of Malchance, forced the man to sit down.
“Wil, Fetch the man a cup of water.”
Malchance crossed to the sideboard and poured a small cup of water from the bronze pitcher before bringing it back. The Duke then helped the man to hold the cup in his injured hands as he sipped carefully at the precious liquid within.
The liquid had loosened his throat because when he next spoke his voice was more solid and deep.
“Thank you.” He said pushing the cup back into Wil’s hands.
“Your Grace, we have come from the North to deliver a message to you from Captain Vosloo. The Captain enforced to me that I only speak to you alone.”
The Kalar’s eyes flicked from the Prince’s face to Malchance and back again. The whites of his eyes stood out against the dark red dust that caked his face and reminded Garrick of a frightened wide-eyed child.
“You can speak freely in front of the Duke of Morcar. What I hear, he hears.”
The man glanced one more time at Malchance, his eyes roaming the duke’s face as if inwardly debating whether to doggedly stick to his Captain’s orders or not. Abruptly, the man gave a great sigh as he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the Prince to speak his message.
“We have come direct from the Northern Foothills where my Wing Commanders and Captain Vosloo were knocked from the sky by Icetigers.”
Garrick felt the blood drain slowly from his face as he heard these words. He felt afraid to hear the rest of this man’s message.
“The Captain wants the other Wings of the Hatar Kalar that are in the South to be warned that the Icetigers attacked using a form of Mind Bolt, the Hatar know what that is, and that the movement of any more Wings to the North should be halted until the source of the Mind Bolts has been destroyed.”
The messenger paused to catch his breath and then gestured with his injured hands for another sip of water. Garrick watched as water dribbled from the corners of his mouth, leaving white trails through the dust on his face as it trickled down his chin.
The man pushed the cup back into Malchance’s hands and breathed a moan of relief as the cold water penetrated the parched tissues of his throat.
“The Captain said to tell you specifically that Wing Commander Kalena Kalar has been captured by the IceTigers after she was bought down. A rescue party has been sent after her.”
“She’s what!” Garrick fell backwards in shock, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He should have felt pain but suddenly, Garrick’s body felt numb all over.
Kalena captured? Garrick could not believe it. Would not believe it. Fraser Vosloo would never have allowed it to happen. This must be some kind of sick joke. It must be. But the image he saw had been of pale flesh and tangled black hair. Garrick’s premonitions when they came had never been wrong before.
The loud thud of a door closing caught Garrick’s attention and he looked up to see Malchance standing quietly by the door. The chair before him was now empty.
“I have let the poor bastard go to his rest. Once he’s had a wash and a good sleep and then some food in his gullet, he’ll be fine.”
Garrick rose unsteadily from the floor and sat himself in the vacated and now very dusty breakfast chair. The initial shock had receded now and Garrick rubbed his face with both hands to help him concentrate on the here and now.
“How can a fully grown girl be taken right from under his eyes?” Malchance stormed across the room and then began to pace back and forth across its length, arms crossed behind his back.
Seeing Malchance’s anger calmed Garrick. It reminded him of a saying
of his father’s. Nothing good ever came from choices made in anger.
“How could you entrust her to that man Garrick. You know as well as I do what those mangy curs do to their prisoners.”
Garrick remained silent, letting his friend vent his outrage and fear. The Kalar had said that a squad has been sent out after her. If they are quick they could find her before anything happens – they might even be on their way back to the Wing with her now.
The one hope he had was that in his flash of vision, the pale flesh was still living.
Chapter Six
Recriminations
Harada stood staring at disbelief at Vosloo.
“Why in the One’s name did you do that?” Harada watched as the Captain’s silhouette moved a little against the backdrop of the distant fires from the Kalar camp.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Vosloo said, a hard edge to his voice. “Garrick entrusted this to me.”
“She’s my niece, curse you. By the One you better explain yourself,” Harada hissed furiously. “Again. Why did you send a message direct to my brother?
The Captain had returned to camp long after dusk and after the Wing Physician had cleaned and stitched his wounds, he told Harada the events of the day. Now they stood in the dark scrub surrounding the Hatar camp in an effort to speak privately before they made their report to the Justicars.
Harada could feel Vosloo’s heated stare even though he could not see it. The man was angry but more at himself than anyone. After hearing about the attack, the Wing Commander knew he could blame no one but himself. He could have ordered Kalena and her Wing to say safe in Darkon, but Garrick would have none of it. He was proud of Kalena and wanted her to do well up North.
And if things went well, their plans could be put into motion. They had started to prepare the way, but now things had come tumbling down. Harada knew that his questions were not helping, but he had to know why the Captain sent his message.
Vosloo remained silent and for that Harada had a grudging respect.
