Shadow of the Knight (The Orb Book 3)

by Matt Heppe

  Picking up the knife, Telea changed her chant to the Chant of Healing. Her heart beat faster as she placed the knife against Escalan’s arm. If anything went wrong, anything at all, she’d have to sing, and that would be the end of them. Ilana’s guards would disrupt the singing, a powerful demon would come, and then there would be death.

  You can do it, she thought. You’re a good healer. You had a great master.

  She didn’t know if the voice was hers or that of the demon. She drew the knife across Escalan’s arm. Blood welled up, and she clamped her hand down upon it. Bright red blood flowed between her fingers. She focused on her chant, putting herself deep into it so that no demon might find an opening to come through.

  Telea placed the knife on the bed and put her left hand on Handrin’s forehead. Life coursed through her. The healing power of Escalan’s blood flowed up her arm and through her. She caught her breath at the power of it and almost lost her chant.

  Handrin shuddered as the healing struck him. He was heavily concussed from some blow to his head, so she sent the healing there first. Deep cuts were mended, a fine fracture in his skull fused shut, and the swelling in his brain reduced.

  She was safe though, the portal to Dromost was closed, and no demon could take Escalan…for now.

  Escalan was strong, and just as she’d seen when she healed Orlos, human blood was very potent. The healing came easily, and Handrin’s wounds weren’t complicated. She turned to cleansing his blood. The toxins keeping him sedated coursed through his veins. Driving them out was much more difficult than she expected.

  She pulled more of Escalan’s blood, chasing the toxins and purging them. Escalan was weaker now. She’d hoped not to tax him too much, so that he might be conscious and strong afterwards. With every moment, it looked less likely.

  Finally, Handrin’s blood was clean. She’d not healed every wound but enough so that he would be strong enough to face the travails ahead. Then, just before ending the healing, she took just a trace of Escalan’s blood, and healed the worst of the blows she’d taken from the Saladoran guards. It felt so good she was tempted to take more, but she forced herself to stop.

  Here’s your chance. Take him.

  Telea slammed her mind shut against the voice of the demon and ended the Chant of Healing. Both Handrin and Escalan came to immediately after, as she made no effort to keep them under her chant. They were safe now. Safe at least from demons.

  “Ahhh, things didn’t go well,” Sulentis said as he sat up.

  Telea helped Escalan to his feet. He was weak, and she let him down onto the bed. “Your Majesty,” he said. “Things have been better.”

  “We’re under guard?” he asked, looking around the room. He frowned at the sight of the brazier.

  “You are,” Telea said. “We snuck in. They don’t know we’re here.”

  Sulentis looked to the door. “Are they in the next room? Or in the hall?”

  “The hall, I think,” Escalan said.

  Sulentis pursed his lips and frowned. “Orlos took Forsvar. I saw it. Did he get away?”

  “There are alarms ringing everywhere,” Escalan said. “I think he must have.”

  “Good, then maybe things aren’t hopeless.” Sulentis lifted his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “You healed me, Telea?”

  She nodded. “You weren’t gravely injured.”

  “And you gave your blood?” he asked Escalan.

  “I did,” Escalan said. “It was the only way.”

  “Thank you,” he said, putting his hand on Escalan’s shoulder. “Thank both of you.” He took a deep breath and said, “It’s time I took my place on the throne.”

  “We aren’t going to escape?” Escalan asked.

  “No. Queen Ilana no longer has Forsvar. She no longer has any power over me.”

  “There are only three of us,” Telea said.

  “When you healed me, you restored my reserves of strength. I can fight if I have to. I don’t think I’ll have to, though.”

  “Your mother won’t fight?”

  Sulentis glanced at Escalan, who shook his head. “She might. I don’t know that anyone will fight for her, though.”

  “She’s not popular,” Escalan said to Telea. “If you hadn’t picked that up.”

  “Help me dress,” Sulentis said. “Help me into my finest robes of state.”

  “What if someone comes in?” Telea asked.

  “They will recognize me as king, or they will die. The time for half measures is over.”

  Escalan stood and somewhat unsteadily made his way over to a large wardrobe. “Your state robes won’t be in here,” he said. “They’ll have been stored somewhere.”

  “Let’s pick out the finest I have. Let’s make a display. I want them awed.”

  As Escalan went through the wardrobe, Telea said, “Come here, Sulentis, er, Your Majesty? I’ll clean you up.” She motioned him to a basin. He joined her, and she cleaned the matted blood from the side of his face and ran a brush through his hair.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For everything. Call me Handrin now. I’m done hiding.”

  “You’ll still help us?” Telea asked. “When you’re king?”

  “Of course. I believe in your mission.”

  “You’ll send Forsvar to Belen?”

  He paused a moment before saying, “It seems to be the only answer.”

  Telea didn’t like the pause, or the look on his face. “It is the only answer. You must do it.”

  “I’ll help you, but don’t presume to give me orders.”

  Escalan spoke before she could make a sharp reply.

  “I have your clothes, Your Majesty.”

  “Majesty, Rayne? I don’t know if that will ever be acceptable from you. Let’s be done with subterfuge. I am Handrin, King of Salador, and you are my valet-at-arms, and friend, Rayne.”

  “I think I need to get used to it, Your Majesty,” Rayne said and smiled. “I’ve been very careful to call you Sulentis for a long time now.” He glanced at Telea. “I suppose it will be harder for you.”

  Telea smiled. “Let’s hope I get to call you King Handrin and Rayne for a very long time.”

  “Have faith, Telea,” Handrin said. “We have the advantage now.”

  Handrin dressed in red trousers and a matching arming coat of the finest wool. He tucked his trousers into tall, polished black boots. The coat had a pair of lightning bolts and a small crown embroidered in silver on the left breast. Over his coat he pulled on an open-front red robe, covered with hundreds of crossed lightning bolts. Rayne fastened a silver furnished black belt around Handrin’s waist.

  “They didn’t leave any weapons, Your Majesty,” Rayne said.

  “Your Majesty only in public, Rayne. Please.”

  “Fine.” Rayne picked up a narrow silver and gold circlet. “We’ll have to find where Queen Ilana put your father’s crown. Your own crown is in the treasury.”

  “Soon enough.” Handrin bowed his head down and Rayne placed the circlet on his head.

  “The alarm bells have stopped ringing,” Telea said. They stood motionless for a few heartbeats. No, she was wrong. There were still bells, but they were distant. She went to the window and looked out. Soldiers gathered in the bailey below. There were hundreds of them. Handrin and Rayne joined her.

  “The bells are across the river,” Handrin said. “There are horns as well.”

  “Do you think Orlos is there?”

  Handrin grimaced and said, “I don’t know. But now I realize I’ve been too slow. If Forsvar is returned before I take the throne from Mother, I will be powerless again. I must move now.”

  Handrin started for the door. “I think you should stay here,” Telea said to Rayne. “You’re still weak from the healing.”

  “There’s no way I’m missing this,” he said. “I don’t care if I have to crawl.”

  Handrin pulled the door open, but there was just a dark room beyond. They walked through the parlor to another doo
r. Handrin raised his left hand, and a bright ball of flame appeared hovering above it. He looked over his shoulder and gave Rayne and Telea a smile and a nod.

  “This is it,” he whispered. “Keep up a bold front and know that no matter what happens, we are in the right.” There was no question that there were guards in the hall beyond, Telea heard their voices.

  “We are with you, Handrin,” Rayne said. “This is your time.”

  Handrin took the door handle and pulled the heavy door open. At the very same moment he pulled it wide, the ball of fire in his hand exploded in brilliant, blinding light. Without thinking, Telea followed Handrin into the hall.

  “Bow down before your king,” Rayne commanded. She’d heard the same tone on military parade grounds dozens of times before. It didn’t matter the size of the man it came from. It was a voice that commanded respect.

  There were eight guards in the hall. They all jumped back from the brilliant ball of flame in Handrin’s hand. For a heartbeat they stood in stunned silence, and then, almost in unison, they fell to their knees.

  “I am Handrin son of Boradin, King of Salador,” Handrin said. His voice boomed in the hallway. “It is time for you to choose—are you my loyal subjects, or are you traitors?”

  “I am yours,” one of the soldiers said.

  “I as well,” another chimed in. More voices followed.

  “I am the Elementar King of Salador, descended in direct line from Handrin the Great. I rule Salador by the right of law and by the divine will of Forsvar. Are you my loyal subjects? If you are not, you will lay down your arms and armor and quit this place.”

  “I swear myself to you,” one of the soldiers said. One after another the others repeated his words.

  Telea looked up as a group of guards appeared at the end of the hall. They halted, clearly confused at the sight before them. Handrin glanced up as well, but he ignored the newcomers—one of whom turned and ran.

  “Are you belted knights?” Handrin asked. “No? Then you shall be the first of the House Guards. Stand. Remove those tabards. You no longer serve my mother. You are the House Guard. You serve the Crown of Salador.”

  The soldiers propped their weapons against the wall and started pulling their tabards over their heads—the blue tabards with gold crowns Telea had seen all the other soldiers wearing.

  There was a scuffle and shouts down the hall. Three guards ran towards them. Two others disappeared around a corner. Handrin’s new House Guardsmen quickly took up their weapons, but the three men pulled up short, throwing their weapons to the floor and falling to their knees.

  “Your Majesty! We are with you.”

  “Stand. Take off your tabards,” Handrin ordered. He looked around the gathered men. “Where’s my mother? Where is Queen Mother Ilana?”

  “I last saw her in the Great Hall, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know if she’s still there.”

  “Follow me. Obey my commands. Any man who resists us is an enemy of the Crown. We’ll do no harm to anyone who submits to us. This is Rayne, whom many of you know. He is your captain. His orders are mine.” Handrin strode down the hall with Telea and Rayne right behind him. The soldiers hurried to follow.

  “Why did the soldiers not try to stop us?” Telea asked Rayne, her voice low.

  “They know who their rightful king is,” Handrin said.

  Rayne laughed. “That, and your mother doesn’t exactly inspire loyalty. The bonds of fear are brittle.”

  They descended a flight of stairs and then marched down a long hall. Two soldiers ran from them, while a few servants bowed low as they passed. They made a turn into a much wider hall. Two guards stood on duty next to open double doors. As Handrin closed on them they stood at attention and presented their poleaxes in a salute. Handrin marched past them as if what was happening was perfectly ordinary. For their part, they did the same.

  The room they entered was some kind of grand foyer. There were two even larger doors in front of them opening into the Great Hall. A dozen Queen’s Guards stood in front of the door.

  “Hold! Hold!” a man ordered. The Queen’s Guardsmen were nervous. Some lowered their weapons as if to fight, while others shuffled back towards the Great Hall.

  “Fall back! Bar the doors!” a woman’s voice screamed from the Great Hall. The guardsmen broke and ran into the room. Some turned to close the heavy doors, but then Handrin ran several steps forward and thrust both of his arms towards the doors.

  Telea stumbled as a tremendous rush of wind howled past her. The doors and the few men still running through them were thrown violently into the Great Hall. Before they recovered, Handrin and his party passed into the chamber.

  The hall was magnificent. Six marble pillars held aloft an arched ceiling. Tapestries and banners hung from the darkness high above. Stained glass windows displayed scenes of past victories, but the night sky hid their true glory. Lamps hung from chains, but even with them, gloom shrouded the room.

  “Stop them! Stop the traitors!” A woman screamed from her throne atop a magnificent stone dais. She was a beautiful woman in a long, blue gown. Her right foot was bandaged. She reached down as if to grab something by her knee that wasn’t there.

  Twenty or so Queen’s Guardsmen stood at the base of the dais. They raised their shields and swords or grasped their poleaxes. Their ranks were unsteady, however, with many of them looking uncertainly over their shoulders at the queen.

  Handrin never stopped walking. He strode forward with Telea and Rayne at his shoulders and a wedge of soldiers behind him. Telea wondered at Handrin’s boldness, the men behind him had just moments ago been servants of the queen. She felt a chill crawl between her shoulder blades—right where she imagined their swords might plunge.

  Suddenly Handrin’s voice boomed out, impossibly loud, amplified by his magic. “Lay down your arms! I am your rightful king.”

  “Rightful king?” Ilana sneered. “What king would kill his own people? Your armies are burning the East Bank.”

  Handrin stopped just paces from the closest of Ilana’s guards. They were nervous—none pointed a weapon at him. “My army? I have no army. I came with only a few companions to take what is rightfully mine.”

  “You lie! Your men have breached the walls. We are dropping the bridges. You are trapped here with only these traitors.”

  “Sir Fenre,” Handrin said, turning his attention to a knight standing a few steps down from the queen. “What is Mother saying? What army is she speaking of?”

  “The walls have been breached, Prince Handrin. The East Bank has fallen, but I know no more than that.”

  “It isn’t my army. What news do you have from Ost-Oras? Has Cragor departed the Dragon Pass?”

  “No news, Your Highness. This dispatch rider is late, but that is not unusual.”

  “How late?” Handrin demanded.

  “Three days.” Fenre wrung his hands together. “You don’t think—”

  “Yes, I do. Cragor has invaded.”

  “This is your fault!” Ilana said. She pointed an accusing finger at Handrin. “You never should have left. And your spiridus friend has run off with Forsvar. Fenre, send messengers to my father. We will hold the Great Keep until he arrives with his men.”

  “Your time giving orders has ended, Mother,” Handrin said. Telea held her breath as he boldly pushed through the soldiers in front of the throne. They fell back from him as if afraid to touch him.

  “Kneel before your king!” Rayne’s voice echoed from the vaulted ceiling.

  The soldiers dropped to their knees in a disordered mass.

  “Stop—” Ilana started and then her voice went silent. Telea saw the queen’s mouth moving, but no words came out. She saw the magic of song as a glowing nimbus around her. Handrin mounted the throne and stood in front of her.

  “Step down, Mother. It’s over. I am the King of Salador.” He held out his hand for her to take it.

  Ilana leaned back and clutched at the gilded armrest
s. She snarled something, but Telea could only guess at the words as the queen was still shrouded in silence.

  “Everything you did, you did for Salador,” Handrin said. His voice was quiet but carried over the silent mass of soldiers. “The Kingdom thanks you for your service, but it is my time now. I will take up Forsvar as defender of the realm. I will defeat Cragor and rescue the Orb of Creation.”

  He turned to Sir Fenre and said, “Have a chair brought for the Queen Mother. Have it placed beside the throne so that my mother might sit beside me.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned to another man, who quickly ran off.

  A door opened and someone ran into the hall. The footfalls were fast at first, but then they slowed and stopped. Telea couldn’t see the new arrival, who was still somewhere behind the crowd of soldiers.

  Handrin took no notice of the new arrival. “It is your choice, Mother. Sit beside me, and be a part of Salador’s future. Or you may leave.”

  Queen Ilana stared silently at him.

  “Your Majesty,” a soldier said as he approached the dais. His voice was tentative as he broke the silence. Neither Ilana nor Handrin turned to face him. “Your Majesties, the enemy is at the bridges. The southern bridge has been cast down, but the others are both up.”

  Two men ran into the room from behind the messenger. They bore a heavy wooden chair. The brought it to the base of the dais and stopped, but then Handrin waved them up. He motioned for them to put the dark, ornately carved chair next to the throne. They did as he wished and then stumbled from the dais in their haste to escape.

  “There’s no more time, Mother. Sit by me.”

  Ilana drew a deep breath and stood. Handrin held out his hand to take hers, but she ignored it, and then, on unsteady feet, she sat on the chair set beside the throne. Handrin turned around and faced the hall. There were more men in the Great Hall now and a few women as well.

  “Kneel before your king,” Rayne commanded. At his word everyone in the room knelt. Telea followed their example.

  “I am King Handrin of Salador,” Handrin said, his voice clear and strong. “I take the throne by right of blood and law. Our city is under attack. We will not sit, hiding in the Great Keep. We are the strength of Salador, and it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Stand, knights and men of Salador. We shall defend the river bridges, and then throw this enemy from our city and our homeland!”