The Restored King (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 4)

by Richard Fierce

  “News doesn’t travel well lately,” the guard answered solemnly. “Lord Abriel is no longer among the living. Did you know him?”

  “Not personally, no. I met him once and we spoke briefly. I’m sorry to hear of his loss. He was a good man.”

  The guard didn’t say anything. Aramis suspected the young man was trying not to cry. The people of the city must have loved him, he thought.

  “You may want to hurry if you expect to leave the port tonight,” the guard finally said.

  “Thank you again,” Aramis said. The guards moved out of his path. He urged his horse forward and Mel followed him.

  They dismounted after entering the city and began looking for a place to leave their horses. Mel spotted a stable to the left and they headed toward it.

  “Something bad has happened here,” Aramis said quietly. He glanced over at Mel. His friend nodded, but didn’t respond. He quickly realized why. The people they passed were eyeing them suspiciously. Some of them even stopped to stare.

  “Do you think they recognize me?”

  “Let’s discuss things somewhere more … private,” Mel answered.

  “Good idea.”

  They sold their horses at the stable for a poor price. The owner told them he had an overabundance of horses and no buyers. He apologized, but didn’t seem to care if they were pleased with his offer or not. Aramis accepted the offer, mostly because they didn’t need to bring the horses on their journey. It’d cost them a small fortune to ship the animals and their funds were limited.

  By the time Aramis and Mel reached the docks, sundown had come and gone. They’d gotten turned around and lost their general sense of direction. Hundreds of people packed the streets and by the time they found someone willing to point them to where they should go, the sky had already darkened. There were a few ships in port, but the area was devoid of any life.

  They chose the closest inn to stay at. The sign above the door read The Compass. Inside, the place was crowded, hot and loud. Everyone in the place appeared to be a sailor. All the tables were taken so the two squeezed through the mob and made their way to the bar.

  “What’ll ya have?” the barkeep asked.

  “A room for the night would be great,” Aramis answered.

  “You’re in luck. I’ve got one left. Mostly lads from the sea renting tonight. Two gold for the room. You want anything else?”

  “Food,” Mel chimed in. “Can you have it delivered to our room?”

  The doubtful look on the barkeep’s face changed when Mel laid another gold coin on the counter.

  “I’ll have it up shortly,” he said with a toothless grin.

  “I appreciate it,” Mel answered.

  “Room’s the last door on the right, second floor.”

  “Thank you,” Aramis said. He led the way through the crowded inn to the stairs and up to their room. Mel paused in the hallway and made sure no one was following them, then stepped into the room and shut the door. It was dark except the moonlight coming from the sole window. Using matches that were on one of the side tables, Mel lit a few candles. The room brightened considerably.

  “What do you suppose happened here?” Aramis asked.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea, my Lord,” Mel answered. “It’s obvious it was something bad. Particularly so to close a fortified city down at night. Keswick has the largest standing army outside of the capital.”

  “I know.” Aramis walked over to stare out of the window. He could see men lighting the lanterns that lined the cobbled streets below. Other than the distrust of the guards at the gate and some of the people in the streets, the city seemed normal.

  “Well, we are stuck here until morning regardless. I say we eat and get some rest. We have plenty to do once we get back to Oakhaven.”

  Mel nodded in agreement. He could hear footsteps in the hall. A loud knock echoed throughout the room. “That must be the food,” Mel said. He opened the door to find a half dozen guards, all armed and armored. They pushed their way into the room. Mel stepped to the side to get out of their way.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Aramis demanded.

  “Is this them?” one of the guards, the apparent leader, asked.

  The guards parted to let a young man come through. Aramis realized it was the scarred young man from the gate. He glanced at Aramis and Mel quickly and then lowered his head. He mumbled something Aramis couldn’t hear.

  “Speak up,” the leader said.

  “Yes,” the young man answered.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  The young man turned to leave and cast a glance back at Aramis. The look on his face was apologetic. Aramis kept his face as impassive as he could despite his annoyance. There was no telling what sort of trouble was about to ensue.

  “I will ask again,” Aramis said calmly. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Your presence is requested,” the leader finally answered. “If you will.” He motioned toward the door.

  Aramis looked to Mel. His friend nodded ever so slightly.

  “Very well,” he said.

  The guards escorted them down the stairs, through the crowd, and out of the front door. The streets were mostly empty now; only the occasional drunk passed them. Although there wasn’t much light, it was obvious that they were being led toward the direction of the castle. As they turned down various roads, Aramis noticed that some of the buildings were damaged. He had a suspicion that a battle had happened recently.

  Roughly a quarter of an hour later, they entered the courtyard of the castle. It was large and open, with gray statues of armored men in various places. As they approached two large doors that led to the inside of the castle, he noticed a large group of guards. They were lined up on either side of the doors and looked uneasy. Several of them kept looking back toward the gatehouse Aramis had just entered through.

  Their escort led them into the castle and left them in a small unfurnished room.

  “Wait here,” the leader said.

  Once they were alone, Aramis informed Mel of his observations.

  “I noticed the same things,” Mel replied. “Perhaps there has been a rebellion?”

  “Perhaps,” Aramis acknowledged. He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “I can’t think of anything else that might have the city on edge, but even that doesn’t make sense. Why lock the city down only at night? If there was a rebellion, guards would be walking the streets continuously. I didn’t notice additional patrols. The common people are still going about their business as usual.”

  Before Mel could respond, the door opened and a nicely dressed young man stepped into the room. His clothes were made of expensive materials and by the way he held himself, Aramis figured he was of noble birth.

  “Please follow me,” the man instructed.

  Turning on his heel, he walked out at a quick pace. Aramis and Mel followed him, surprised at the man’s stride. They traveled down a long hall and entered a massive dining room. A table, roughly twenty feet long, was covered with dishes of exotic foods. The smells made Aramis’s mouth water.

  “Smells heavenly,” Mel said quietly.

  “Mm.” Aramis grunted. He expected the man to seat them at the table, but they continued past the table and out of the room into another hall. This one was much shorter and only had one door. The man knocked on the door twice, paused, and then knocked again three times. The door swung open on silent hinges and the young man waved them in.

  The first thing Aramis noticed was the bed. It was enormous, with four large posts at each corner that supported a canvas that draped over the entire bed. Incense filled the air, but there was no smoke. The young man bowed, then turned and left the room.

  Aramis glanced around. Everything in the room led him to believe this was a bedroom for a noble. Large sturdy pieces of furniture were positioned throughout the room. Expensive combs, bejeweled mirrors and other garish things decorated every available surface. They appeared to b
e alone in the room. Aramis walked over to a desk that sat in front of a large window. Papers, piled in neat stacks, sat atop the surface.

  Perusing them led him to believe they were reports. He saw the word “Warlock” scrawled on many of them. He was about to read one of the reports when a noise drew his attention away. A hidden panel in the wall slid to the side and a woman with two armored guards entered the room.

  Aramis had only ever seen Lord Abriel’s wife once, but he recognized her immediately. Her beauty was a thing of legend. Despite being in her later years, her beauty still captivated men of all ages. Aramis tore his gaze away from her long enough to see that Mel’s mouth was hanging open. Aramis laughed and stepped toward her. One of the guards quickly drew his sword and went into a defensive stance.

  “Peace,” the woman said.

  Gods, thought Aramis, even her voice is perfect.

  The guard hesitated for a moment, but finally sheathed his weapon.

  “My Lady,” Aramis greeted. His voice faltered and he had to cough to clear his throat. “My Lady,” he said again, bowing.

  “Good evening,” she replied. “Please, call me Lynessa. I am sorry to have brought you here the way I did, but I didn’t see any other option.”

  “No need to apologize,” Aramis managed to say. Words seemed to have fled from his vocabulary. “I must mention that we would have come if you had called upon us.”

  “I’m sure you would have. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to be proper. You are a wanted criminal. Word of your deeds has reached far. You are fortunate that some of my men recognized you. There are others who would have turned you in already.”

  “Let me guess,” Aramis said as he folded his arms defiantly, “you want me to do something for you or you’ll turn me in yourself?”

  “You wound me, my Prince. Do you think I am like the beggars, seeking only what I may gain from others? No. I have a petition.”

  “A petition?” His defiance quickly melted.

  “Indeed, but I’m being a terrible host. Are either of you hungry? Or thirsty? I can have a servant fetch something for you?”

  “Some wine would be nice,” Mel said.

  “I agree,” Aramis chimed in.

  Lynessa grabbed a bell from one of the tables and rang it. Within seconds, a female servant rushed into the room. “Wine for our guests,” she said. The servant curtsied and left.

  “The matter I’d like to talk about is … delicate. Normally I would host you in the dining room, but I desire privacy in this matter. I’m sure you understand?”

  “Of course,” Aramis replied.

  “Good. I’m not entirely sure how much you know about our recent events, but terrible things have happened.”

  “I have heard that your husband passed away. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Abriel was murdered,” Lynessa said.

  Aramis’s eyes widened in shock.

  “I had debated keeping it a secret from the people. He was loved by everyone, and I didn’t want anyone taking rash actions. Before we could deliver the news, something else happened.”

  The servant returned, bearing a tray with tall glasses. She handed one to Lynessa, then to Aramis and Mel.

  “Thank you. You are dismissed for the evening. If I need anything, I’ll have one of my guards attend to it.”

  The servant bowed her head and left. After a few moments, Lynessa motioned to the door. The guard who had drawn his sword on Aramis left the room and returned a moment later.

  “She’s gone,” he said.

  “Very good. I—”

  The second guard suddenly threw Lynessa to the ground. Aramis was confused until he saw the glint of steel in his hand. The guard drew his hand back to drive the dagger into her, but the first guard threw himself bodily into the other man. The two rolled around, struggling against one another. Aramis quickly helped Lynessa to her feet and stood protectively in front of her.

  One of the men screamed in pain and stopped struggling. The man who tried to kill Lynessa stood up and rushed Aramis. Barely thinking about it, he summoned his armor. The air hissed loudly as the armor formed around him from mist. Just as his armor finished materializing, the man struck him with the dagger. It made a clanging sound as it slid off his breastplate.

  Aramis grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it sharply. The man gasped and the blade clattered to the ground. Mel was there suddenly, grabbing the man from behind and locking him in a chokehold. The guard flailed and attempted to fight back, but it was futile. Swiftly rendered unconscious, Mel dropped him to the floor a moment later.

  “What is going on?” Aramis said. His pulse was pounding in his head.

  “It is as I feared,” Lynessa replied. “He has infiltrated my personal guard.”

  “Who has?”

  “The Warlock.”

  “Who is the Warlock?” Aramis asked.

  “Please, we must tend to Cardon first. Can you find one of my servants?”

  “I’ll go,” Mel offered. He hurried off.

  Aramis dismissed his armor and knelt beside Cardon. A small pool of blood had formed near the man’s shoulder. He gently lifted the man’s arm to get a better look. The dagger had pierced him in the armpit and blood was flowing freely from the wound. Aramis ripped the hem of his shirt off and pressed the cloth against the wound. Cardon groaned.

  “Will he survive?” Lynessa asked worriedly.

  “I’ve seen men survive much worse. He’ll be fine so long as we can stop the bleeding.” Aramis was growing worried the longer that Mel was gone. The cloth was already soaked with blood.

  “Perhaps I should go find help,” Lynessa suggested.

  “No,” Aramis said immediately. “If your personal guard has been compromised, there’s no telling how many of your servants are also assassins in disguise. Mel will get help.”

  As though hearing his name, Mel came flying into the room with a group of servants trailing him.

  “Out of the way!” a deep voice cried out.

  An older man pushed his way through the servants and knelt at Cardon’s other side. “He’s turning pale. Where’s the wound?”

  “In the armpit,” Aramis answered. “I’m trying to halt the blood flow, but it’s not going so well.”

  “Give me your shirt,” the older man said. “And get out of the way.”

  Aramis took it off without hesitation and handed it to the man. The man wrapped the shirt under Cardon’s arm and tied a tight knot.

  “We’ve got to take him to the infirmary,” he demanded. “Any longer and I can’t guarantee he’ll live.” The servants broke into action. They lifted Cardon and carried him out of the room while the older man shouted orders.

  Aramis looked at Lynessa. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. A little shaken, but I’m fine.”

  “What should we do about him?” Aramis pointed to the unconscious assassin. “He won’t be out forever.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” Mel said. He walked over and grabbed the man by his legs, then dragged him out of the room.

  Aramis sat down on the floor. His hands were covered in Cardon’s blood, so he tried not to touch anything. He realized Lynessa was staring at him.

  “So, it’s true,” she said softly.

  “What is?”

  “That you bear the mark.”

  Aramis sighed. “Yes, but it is not what you may think.”

  “Explain it to me,” she said. “My husband was murdered by the Warlock. And he has the same symbol.”

  Mel entered the room then, followed by more servants. They began cleaning the blood from the floor. One of them began washing Aramis’s arms. He tried to protest, but the servant ignored him. Once he was clean, another servant brought him a shirt. It was dark blue and made of a thin material. He put it on and got back on his feet.

  After the floor was cleaned, the servants departed. They had done such a good job that Aramis would never have known anyone had almost died.

/>   “May I speak to your prince alone?” Lynessa asked Mel.

  He nodded and closed the door behind him as he left.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  Aramis explained everything. As many times as he had told his story, relating his father’s death never got easier. After he had related all the details, including his escape from Red Mountain, they sat in silence.

  “It sounds like you have suffered as I have suffered,” Lynessa finally said. “I trust you.”

  “It gives my heart gladness to hear it,” Aramis replied. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I need your help. The Warlock murdered my husband. I’ve had the city guard searching for him since it happened, but they have been unsuccessful so far.”

  “You mentioned something else happened?”

  “Yes. I would not have believed it if I had not seen it myself. At night, the dead come alive.”

  Aramis waited for her to explain. When she didn’t, he asked, “What do you mean?”

  “There is a graveyard for the nobles not far from here,” Lynessa said. “Every night since Abriel’s death, the dead rise from their graves and attack the city. I know the Warlock is behind it, but I haven’t figured out how.”

  “You want me to find him.”

  “If you can. I’ve heard many rumors concerning you lately. I don’t know how much of it is true, but anything you can do would be greatly appreciated.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

  “The graveyard will be the best place. I will give you whatever you need. Soldiers, money, anything.”

  “I would love to assist you, but I’m afraid I can’t. There is something much bigger at work and I need to find my father’s killer. I can’t reclaim my throne if I can’t prove I didn’t kill my father.”

  Lynessa closed her eyes and lowered her head, crestfallen. “I had hoped … I don’t know what I had hoped,” she whispered sadly.

  Aramis felt terribly guilty. He considered what she had said. If this Warlock was one of Mordum’s agents, it wouldn’t hurt to try and track him down. He would certainly need Mel’s help, though.

  “Lynessa,” Aramis said softly, “I will help you.”