“Why? What are you going to do?” Kain shouted, but the big warrior was already leaping out of the back of the wagon onto his horse. The fact that he was agile enough to accomplish this feat should have told the attackers this was no merchant’s caravan. Fairan pulled the feed bag from his mount and used his sword to cut through the reins that tied the big horse to the wagon. Then, with one hand tangled in the horse’s mane, the other brandishing his sword, he rushed after the raiders.
The first attacker in Fairan’s path was near the front of the wagon and, hearing the General’s battle cry, dropped back. The man pulled out a sword and swung it in a clumsy arc which Fairan didn’t bother to block. He simply leaned forward, dropped his head beneath the attacker’s blade, and thrust his own sword through the neck of the raider’s horse. Both horse and rider fell instantly, and Fairan urged his own mount on with greater speed.
There were two attackers left, one on either side of the wagon’s horses. They were attempting to bring the wagon to a stop. Fairan rode straight at the man on his side of the wagon. The raider never saw the blade that severed his head. The last man looked back as the horses slowed, and, seeing that he was alone, he urged his mount away from the wagon. Fairan charged after the man, but discontinued the pursuit quickly, choosing to stay near the wagon, in case the first attack was merely an attempt to draw the hired guard away from a merchant’s wagon. The big farm horses had stopped and were now panting, their mouths foaming around their metal bits, as sweat glistened in the moonlight on their hides.
Kain sat in the wagon, his heart thumping from the adrenaline, which was also masking the pain that was fighting to work its way back into the front of the young Prince’s mind. He heard a horse approaching and raised his crossbow.
“Elkain, do not shoot me,” said Fairan in a tired voice.
“You did it, then?” Kain said in relief, his heart slowing and the pain returning suddenly.
“They were not very adept in their trade,” came Fairan’s voice from the rear of the wagon, where he lifted the flap in search of something to tie his horse with.
Kain slumped back onto his mattress once more. His head was pounding like it was the giant bell from the Monastery at evening prayer time. He closed his eyes and shuttered. The wagon lurched as Fairan hoisted himself in from the back. He filled a cup with wine and raised Kain up to drink. The wine worked, calming Kain down, and he was soon asleep in the wagon. Fairan walked the horses slowly until he came to a stream, where he let them drink.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. When dawn broke, the big warrior stopped the wagon to stretch his legs and get a bite to eat. As he was rummaging for some food, Kain spoke.
“It appears my kingdom is full of deadly brigands and rebellious nobles,” he said weakly.
“It is bound to make the criminals more daring, now that your Father and brothers are dead.”
“How did you manage to jump onto your horse from the back of a moving wagon?” Kain asked.
Fairan laughed. “Well, you won’t find this in the Chronicles, but your father and I used to pretend we were being chased in the royal carriage. We would tie our horses to the back and jump out onto them. And when we were older and knew better, I once bet your father that he couldn’t do it from a moving wagon. So he did, then I had to. And you know, after all these years, this the first time I have ever been chased in a wagon. But I can still jump on the back of my horse, Belhain, I can still do it.” The last sentence was uttered in a tone of sentimentality. He wasn’t speaking to Kain anymore, but to Belhain, his friend, wherever he was.
Kain drifted off again, with a weight of grief in his chest. And the dream came again; this time he was in the wagon, but the covering was gone. Raider’s in horrific armor, blood dripping from their swords, hung from the poles along the edges of the wagon. Kain was lying back on his straw mattress, too frightened to move. He wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t. Then a thought crossed his mind: he had nightmares all his life where he couldn’t keep his eyes open to face the danger approaching him, but this was the first time he could remember that he couldn’t close his eyes. It was also the first time he knew he was having a nightmare while still dreaming. Then a voice caught his attention. It was the dark man, his snake sword, and all the attackers, chanting his name and laughing. Then the dark man raised his curvy sword, and it struck down like a hissing serpent. Kain screamed and when he awoke, Fairan was bending low over him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Fairan asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Just bad dreams.”
“Well, here, eat something. You’ll feel better. I am going to water the horses.”
Kain was sore and tired. He ate some bread and drank some water and then lay back on his bed. When Fairan returned and climbed back onto the driver’s seat, Kain began to question him.
“What time is it?” Kain asked.
“Mid-afternoon.”
“Who were those men last night?”
“Probably just thieves. I don’t think they had any affiliation with Westfold.”
“We’re just lucky, running into all these killers, huh?”
“I have never been attacked like that. But then I rarely travel this way, and never by wagon, unless you count the royal carriage. I doubt that raiders, especially any as inept as those, would have the courage to attack a Royal caravan.”
“Are we close to Dameris?”
“Now you sound like a royal child,” Fairan smirked. “Yes, we should be there very soon.”
Kain scrambled around in the back of the wagon and finally felt steady enough to emerge into the afternoon sun. He was drinking a cup of water and rubbing the swollen side of his head.
“You killed all the men who attacked us?” Kain asked.
“No, one got away, one was probably injured but alive.”
“Do you ever get used to it...to killing?”
“You have killed men, how do you feel?”
“Sadness—like death will follow after me the rest of my life.”
“That’s about right. Now you see how easily people can fall into superstitions and the old religions. Those things are always based on fear, on emotions. And no, you never get used to it. You’ll get past the killing though; in a time of peace, those feelings will fade. But that is the way I feel every time I have to kill someone, like my own life has been shortened a little. It’s as if that touch of death has brought me closer, death knows me a little better. It’s never a good feeling.”
“Well, that’s encouraging,” Kain said mockingly. “I don’t think that time of peace is going to come anytime soon.”
“That is wise.”
They rode on in silence for some time. Finally, in the distance, they could make out the outline of a building of some sort. There were trees growing on the plain here; it was a very green, very peaceful place.
Fairan turned off the road and headed for a grove of trees on the outskirts of the village. From the grove they could see homes with gardens, and a small square where merchants were ending their day of business. It was a new sight to Kain. He had read of towns, of public markets full of vendors selling wonders of all kinds. But he had never left the Monastery and its surrounding lands. He had never been in a market before. He wanted to go, to see what was happening, but Fairan brought the wagon to a stop before the grove of trees.
“Here we are,” he said, as the sun began to color the sky a golden yellow.
Kain looked among the trees and saw what looked to be a small house nestled in the trunks and boughs. He climbed down from the wagon and stretched. He was tired, and his backside was beginning to hurt as much as his face.
“Tooles will probably have something that will help with your swelling and your pain,” Fairan said.
They approached the grove, and Fairan called out.
“Tooles, it is Fairan and the boy. Tooles!”
“I hear you,” came a raspy but soft voice.
When Vespin Tooles stepped
from the shadows of the grove into the fading light, Kain was shocked at his appearance. He was wearing a hooded robe of brown, burlap like material, much like what they had used to cover the wagon. He leaned heavily on a gnarled staff of wood. His hands were wrinkled, the skin seemed too big for the skeletal hands, which were crisscrossed with blue veins. His face seemed hollow, his eyes recessed in their sockets, his lips so thin they were hard to see. He was stooped and moved slowly as he approached Kain and looked up into the young Prince’s face in the last rays of sunlight.
“He looks like his father,” rasped the elderly Tooles.
Fairan grunted approvingly.
“Well, come in, I am sure you are tired,” Tooles invited them. “It appears as though you have had trouble. I feared as much.”
“We were attacked. Prince Elkain was captured but abandoned. We were fortunate.”
“Yes, I would agree. Now, let us sup together, and we will decide the future.”
Inside the grove of trees, a clearing opened up. The little dwelling was open on one side, facing the center of the groove. There was a pile of wood in the center of the clearing. Inside the little shelter was a bed and a large chair with fluffy cushions filled with goose feathers, some of which were poking out the seams.
“I think you had better sit there,” rasped Tooles. He turned to the warrior. “Did they question him?”
“No, he was barely conscious while they had him. He took a hard blow to the back of the head.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“They tied him to the saddle, and he is very sore, but that is all.”
“Alright,” said the old man. He walked slowly over to the firewood, tapped it twice with his staff, and walked back toward the shelter.
The wood was slowly catching flame. Kain wondered at this, but he was too tired, and in too much pain, to really care. The old man mixed some powder into a wooden cup, then heated some water over the fire. While Tooles worked in the grove, Fairan took care of the horses and the wagon. Finally, the elderly Tooles poured some of the hot water into the cup and mixed its contents. He brought it over to Kain.
“Drink this, Third Prince, it will help the pain and the swelling.”
Kain sniffed the strange concoction; it smelled coppery, but Kain drank it. It wasn’t tasty, but it was warm and soothing.
“Do you mind if I see the mark on your chest?” Tooles asked.
Kain was too tired to care; the warm drink was making him drowsy. Tooles lifted Kain’s shirt and smiled.
“It is as I remember,” Tooles said as he patted Kain’s knee and lowered the shirt. “You rest now, I’ll watch over you tonight.” The old councilor led Kain to the bed and helped him into it.
Fairan came into the clearing. The last thing Kain could remember was Tooles’ raspy voice saying, “Fairan, let us sample that wine you brought and relive the old days.”
Chapter 8
When Kain awoke the next morning, the sunlight was shining through the leaves of the little grove. Tooles was already shuffling around the fire, where a pot hung and sputtered. Without looking, the elderly man spoke to Kain.
“Ah, you have awakened,” came the raspy voice. “I took the liberty of preparing you another draft. This will not make you sleepy as the last one did.”
Tooles approached the bed where Kain lay testing all his muscles. He felt like a new man. The pain in his back and legs was nearly non-existent. He reached for his face, it was still puffy, but the swelling had gone done. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up without the usually dizziness.
“What did you give me?” Kain asked.
“Not much really, just a few herbs and strongly mulled wine. This time the herbs are in hot water, I’m afraid it won’t taste as good as before.”
“You mean it was supposed to be good last night?” Kain joked as he took the cup. “I really appreciate your help. Thank you.”
“You need not thank me, Third Prince. In fact, if you knew the story of your birth, you might hate me instead. You see, it was I who counseled Belhain to send you away.”
“Why?” Kain asked, startled at the revelation.
“Because of what your mark represented. I had no doubt that you would one day be king, but I also feared what our enemies would think—that any plan to harm your family might succeed. And with your sister, we could quietly send you away. Please do not blame your father for letting you go. I believe it was the hardest thing he ever had to do.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Kain asked.
“You and I are about to begin a journey that will not be easy. In fact, I believe it will rise or fall on your willingness to trust me. I want to be truthful with you from the beginning and give you a chance to ask me the hard questions that must be in your mind, before the stress of the days ahead. Fairan has told me of your sharp mind and your aptitude with the sword, and of your doubts.”
Tooles dropped lightly into the chair at the foot of Kain’s bed.
“Well,” Kain said, “to tell you the truth, I have questions, but they don’t feel personal. I mean, it feels like I am talking about someone else. Part of me is shocked to find out that my parents were the King and Queen, but I enjoyed my life at Aquista. The hard part is believing that I should be King. Does being the son of one man give me the right to rule a country?”
“That is a wise question, one that must be answered if you are to have confidence in this ordeal. On the one hand, there is nothing different in your blood than any other, be it knight or noble or peasant or slave, although it is advantageous for the majority of people to believe there is. On the other hand, your position and the position of your family often afford you the experience and education needed to rule a country.”
“But I haven’t had that experience or education.”
“No, but you have the mark.”
“It’s nothing. A disfiguration, if anything.”
“That is not true. You are the follower of the One God, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then either you believe He is involved in the affairs of men or you don’t. If your god cares, why would he allow a birthmark over the heart of the third son of a king—a birthmark that is in the very shape of our country’s emblem? Do not doubt that this mark was placed on you by the gods for a reason.”
“I don’t believe in any gods except the One True God,” Kain said.
“Be that as it may, you are marked for glory or for cursing.”
Kain stood up, his legs surprisingly strong. He wanted to walk away, to ride back to the Monastery, to forget everything and return to what was familiar. He felt like this was all a dream, like he should wake up and face the reality of his orphaned life. How many times had he lain in bed dreaming of the day when his parents would arrive and tell the world how they had been tricked? He knew they would say his being sent to Aquista was a terrible mistake; that they had been searching desperately for him. And they would carry him away to a home that was filled with warmth and love.
He began to pace. There was a trace of soreness in his muscles, but it felt good to exercise them. He wondered what his brothers’ lives had been like. How different would life have been, growing up in a palace, with servants there to meet every need? It would have been nice to have slept on a bed full of goose down rather than on the stiff cot in the Monastery. It would have been fun to learn the art of war and the administration of cities rather than the discipline of the scriptorium. And in that moment, a pang for the life he had missed sprang up in his heart.
Tears burned at his eyes and he was surprised by them. He felt suddenly very sad and could not hold back the tide of his emotion. Something was bursting inside of him, something hot, trying to get out, a feeling, a question. It burst from his lips before he realized it and louder than he expected.
“Why? Why would anyone send their child away like that?”
Tooles lowered his head and rasped, “Because they loved you.”
“They loved m
e so much they sent me away?”
“Yes, you have lived a sheltered life, Elkain. You do not know of the spiritualism that is part of this land. Your mark will be seen by the people as a sign from the gods that you are meant to rule us. If you had stayed at the palace, you would have known some comforts, yes, but you would have also known the pain of loneliness.”
“I know what loneliness is,” Kain said bitterly. “I have spent many cold, frightened nights all alone, wondering who my parents were and why I was not with them.”
“Ah, but you see, that is an emotion all men face, because ultimately we make our own decisions, we are all alone. I speak of a pain you have not yet faced, but you will in time. If you had stayed with your family, would you have been able to live with the resentment your brothers felt for you? They would have been threatened by your mark. Could you have understood why your father would not love you, could not spend time with you, refused to be a father to you, had you been in his presence daily? And your mother, could you have looked into her eyes and seen the fear you caused her? Her fear that your rule could only mean your brothers had met an untimely end. These resentments and fears would have spread to the servants and ministers you faced every day. You would have been blamed for every misfortune in the kingdom, and ridiculed by the people. You would have been neglected at home and abused in the city, unaccepted within and despised without. Do you still feel that your life was the worse for your parents’ charity?”
Kain said nothing; he looked down at his feet and sat quietly on the edge of the bed. What could he say? He had no frame of reference. He supposed all children were loved and accepted at home. He had wished for an ending to his aloneness that could not and would not come. Even now that he knew the truth, he felt no relief, no satisfaction in knowing who his parents had been or why they had left him alone.
“Again, I must bear the burden of guilt for what you feel,” said Tooles. “Your parents wanted to keep you with them, but they trusted me. Your father needed me to make the difficult decisions and I did, even when it cost me everything.”
Third Prince (Third Prince Series) Page 7
