Within the Hollow Crown

by Antoniazzi, Daniel

Over the next two days, he and Sir Martin devised a series of clues. Clues that they knew wouldn’t be solved too quickly. They knew it would take some time for the right person to come along and decipher them. And then Sir Martin, who had been injected with a higher dose of the venom, died. Sir Dorn buried him before returning to the mainland.

  Sir Dorn finally died in Anuen, telling the untrue story of the King’s death. It was in the final pages of the document that Jareld found the answers he was originally seeking:

  I confess that my actions are disproportionate to my rank. I have made decisions that I am not qualified to make. But the situation required that someone make these decisions, and I was the only one left. I have decided that the Saintskeep, the weapon reserved for the bloodline of the Kings, shall not be kept by a man if he is not the rightful heir. John and his heirs will not possess the Sword of Kings.

  He described how he hid the weapon, before he ever left the Caves of Drentar, and guarded it with clever devices so that only with the truth could one find the weapon. It was not in the Dragon’s lair, as many believed. He enclosed a map to find it. It was right there, on the last sheet of paper: A clear map, with measurements, that would lead to the Saintskeep. All Jareld had to do was follow it.

  Corthos burst into the room, drunk. It took both Jareld and Thor to make sure he didn’t trample over the papers.

  “Maties, there be good ale in this here island!” he cried out, lying prostrate on the bed.

  “What about the salmon?” Thor asked.

  “Not quite as strong as the ale.”

  “We’ve found what we need. We’ve found where we have to go.”

  “Tonight, we shant be going anywhere. I’d sail me boat off the edge of the world.”

  “Very well, tomorrow morning...” Jareld looked at the inebriated Corthos once more, “Very late tomorrow morning, we shall set sails for the Caves of Drentar.”

  Corthos’ body straightened up like a spring, looking cock-eyed at the two scholars.

  “It does not matter when you wake me. We shant be going to the Caves of Drentar under any circumstances. There is naught enough ale nor salmon to make me do it.”

  “But that’s where we have to go,” Jareld said.

  “Only the desperate and foolish go there,” Corthos said.

  “But,” Jareld said, “We have a map.”

  “Lemme see,” Corthos said, grasping the chart. “Why didn’t you just say you had a treasure map? I be a pirate. There is no place I won’t go if there be a treasure map.”

  And with that, he flopped back on the mattress, sound asleep. Jareld and Thor retired to their own rooms, though neither got much sleep. The Line of Kings was dead...

  Chapter 31: The Road to Recovery

  Michael walked through the darkened woods. A few steps behind him walked a man.

  “How long have I been walking?” Michael asked the man. He was not surprised when the man didn’t answer, nor was he disappointed. “My legs are tired, as though I have been walking for days. But I do not remember stopping to rest. I don’t even remember when I started. Where was I before this?”

  “You’re probably better off not remembering,” the man said.

  The woods were becoming dense with foliage. Michael felt he was just treading greenery, barely staying afloat. He felt directionless. He felt as though his legs were just moving for the sake of it.

  “I think I want to stop.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” the vague man responded.

  “Why not?”

  “Because if you stop now, I don’t know what will get you to go on again.”

  “But I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t even know where I came from. Wasn’t I supposed to be somewhere?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you know where?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “But I have nothing to work with right now. I have no destination.”

  “I can give you the answers, but it’s better if you find them yourself. You’ll be stronger for it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “Can you at least give me a hint?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Wasn’t Sarah here somewhere?”

  “She might have been. It’s hard to say. Maybe she was here earlier. Maybe she’ll be here later. Time is transient in this place. Has almost no meaning at all.”

  Michael felt a drop of rain his him. How the rain was getting through the canopy was a mystery that did not even occur to him. All that mattered was that, after a moment, it began to rain.

  He might have found it curious, if he had known, that a tear from Sarah’s eye had fallen right onto his bare chest at that moment.

  “I’m getting cold,” Michael said.

  “Then you’d best find your path, quickly. The darkness is coming, and we’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Michael racked his brain, but his life was absent from his memory. Who or what he was didn’t carry any weight. He could only remember Sarah, and his love for her. And that apparently didn’t answer the riddle.

  At that moment, half awake and full of mourning, Sarah whispered to the wind, “Come home.”

  Home. That thought bore into Michael’s head with an alarming persistence. Home. He was born and raised in the same place all his life. He had forgotten, somehow, the place that held all his memories and friends. If he couldn’t remember who he was, the Castle of Hartstone would.

  “Hartstone,” Michael said to the vague man behind him.

  “What about Hartstone?” the man said.

  “That’s where I’m supposed to be going. That’s where I’m supposed to be.”

  Michael turned away from the man and to the trees before him, only to discover that a path had opened in the foliage, and the sun broke through the clouds. The dark canopy opened to invite in the warmth.

  “Very good,” said the man, “You may make it yet.”

  Michael started down the path.

  Chapter 32: Things You Can’t Unsay

  Dawn crept into the woods with the slanted rays of the sun and the song of the birds. Sarah returned to Landos and Gabriel as they packed their camp. In the gray light of morning, Landos couldn’t help but think of Sarah as sad. But when he saw her face, he knew she wasn’t.

  “He’s alive,” she said. “He’s alive, and with some luck, he’ll be fine.”

  Landos was not sure what he should say, but since it was clear that Gabriel wouldn’t say anything, he figured he’d better say something.

  “That’s great,” Landos said, but he didn’t sound convincing. “That’s-- That’s quite a relief.”

  “I’m going to get the horses,” Gabriel said, finding an excuse to leave the two alone.

  “Really, Sarah, that’s terrific,” Landos said. “I mean it.”

  “Of course you mean it,” Sarah said, “He’s your friend.”

  “And my liege Lord.”

  “I always thought of you two as friends first.”

  “Sarah, of course I don’t wish any ill toward Michael, but--”

  “Then don’t say anything more.”

  “Last night… I’ve never felt…”

  “Please, Landos, there are some things that cannot be unsaid.”

  “I love you.”

  “Like that.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know you do. And I love you, too. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Come with me,” Landos said, moving up to her, taking her hand.

  “Where?”

  “Away. Only these laws, these rings,” he lifted her left hand, to demonstrate the ring on her hand, “Only these things keep us apart. Come with me. Somewhere. Anywhere.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Please, Landos.”

  “No. This is ridiculous. We’re in lov
e. What law of nature would say we should not be happy together?”

  “It is not the law of nature that concerns me.”

  “What? You suddenly care about your marital vows?”

  “It’s not that simple. Landos.”

  “We’ll talk about this back at the castle.”

  Landos turned, striding towards the horses. But Sarah didn’t budge.

  “I’m staying,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m staying with Michael until he recovers.”

  “No, you’re returning to the castle.”

  “I think I should be here when he wakes.”

  “Bad enough the Prince died on our turf, and Michael was seriously wounded. There’s no chance I’m leaving the Countess alone in the woods.”

  “I wouldn’t be alone.” Of course, she meant Alderthorn and Flopson. Of course she meant that the woodsman and the jester could keep her safe. But even as she said it, she realized she could have meant Michael. That maybe she did, a little bit. And Landos thought the same.

  “We are in a de facto state of war. Until the dust settles, I’m in charge. And I say you’re coming home.”

  “You’re going to pull rank? Landos, this isn’t fair.”

  “Gabriel will stay behind and watch Michael until I send some guards.”

  Gabriel led the horses into the clearing at that moment, catching only the end of the conversation. Gabriel was much older than Landos, and he knew what he was seeing. Landos was very good at what he did, which was get people to agree with him. But he was also twenty-one, and like all men who are twenty-one, he thought he was in love.

  “Landos, you’re angry, and this isn’t fair, and--”

  “Get on your horse,” Landos said, as he got on his own.

  Landos and Sarah rode back to Hartstone in complete silence. Sarah thought about saying something seven times, and Landos thought about saying something nine times, but that was only because he was feeling more guilty.

  ---

  But they had to put their feelings aside when they returned to the castle. Vye briefed Landos on the arrival of Sir Noble and the young Prince. Landos assembled everyone in the Count’s audience chamber. Himself, Sir Calvin, Sir Noble, Lady Vye, and sitting on the platform, in her rightful seat, the Countess Sarah. Watching over them all.

  “Sir Calvin, you go first,” Landos said.

  “I received word from Lord Grenwitt, a friend of mine in Dalton,” Calvin said. “He says that Avonshire and Brimford are going to war.”

  “Because of the succession?” Landos asked.

  “Yes,” Calvin answered. “Timothy Brimford and Castor Rone both feel they have legitimate claims to the throne.”

  “What does the Standard say?” Landos asked.

  “Not enough,” Sir Noble said.

  “Why wasn’t Emily Rone killed that day?” Landos asked.

  “I have a theory,” Lady Vye said. “I think this confusion is intentional. I think the Turin wanted us to be unsure; to fight one another instead of fighting them.”

  “Fight them?” Calvin said. “If we ever decided to fight them, they would be destroyed. It is our mercy that has kept them alive these past centuries.”

  “That and an impenetrable and easily defended forest,” Sarah said, startling everyone. Even Landos had expected her to be mostly ornamental.

  “Let’s not get too involved in the rights and wrongs of the past, we don’t have time,” Landos said.

  “It seems our time has come indeed,” Sarah retorted.

  “I’d prefer,” Landos said, “Your Grace, to concentrate on the matters at hand. Let the historians deal with the cause of it all.”

  “I’d prefer we didn’t take an attitude,” Sarah said, “That we are blameless in this mess.”

  Vye cleared her throat. Clearly something had happened over the last night, and the truth was she wanted nothing to do with it. But for the moment, Landos was right, and they couldn’t waste time bickering.

  “I think,” Vye said, once the quiet had settled in, “That a fight with the Turin is not so far fetched. We received two pigeons this morning. From Maethran and Cornwile.”

  She handed the papers off to Landos. As he read, Calvin commented:

  “By pigeon? They would have to be urgent to warrant that. What could be happening in Maethran that would be so urgent?”

  “We’re under attack,” Landos answered. “The Turin have put together an army. A rather large army, it would seem. They’ve defeated Maethran, and Cornwile is under attack.”

  “They’ve defeated Maethran?” Calvin said, grabbing the missives. “How fast did it happen?”

  “The attack started on the day the King was killed,” Vye said.

  “Eight days ago!” Calvin commented. “It took them eight days to defeat all of Maethran?!”

  “In all fairness,” Vye stammered, “Maethran wasn’t expecting an attack. Caught off guard by that large of a standing army…”

  “Still,” Calvin said, “They would have had to destroy Fort North, the capital, Fort Meyers, Allisondra…”

  “Lengley Keep…” Landos added.

  “Right, Lengley Keep, and probably the standing army at New Vinton.”

  Vye shrugged. She had hoped to convince herself it wasn’t that bad. But Calvin made it sound worse.

  “Well,” Landos said, “Clearly we need better intelligence than the pieces of paper brought to us by birds, but I think we can agree that we have a serious problem.”

  “But not that serious,” Sir Noble said. “We have the boy.”

  “Yes,” Landos said, “The boy. Sir Noble was good enough to bring young Prince Anthony to us from the chaos of Anuen.”

  “Then there isn’t an issue,” Calvin said. “Brimford and Avonshire are angry people, but they won’t deny the Prince. We present them with the Prince, they stop fighting, we raise an army, and we get rid of the Turin.”

  “Let’s send them a message immediately,” Vye said.

  “I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that,” Calvin said. “Castor and Timothy won’t believe a letter. They’ve become very paranoid.”

  “So, what’s the alternative?” Landos asked.

  “We march the boy back,” Vye answered.

  “Yes,” Landos said, “We present them with a living heir, right in front of them. Then we thank them for mustering so many soldiers, and we advise His Young Majesty to send them east.”

  “When do we leave?” Vye asked.

  “How soon can you be ready?” Landos answered.

  Chapter 33: Learning to Teach

  Gabriel stood watch over the recuperating Michael. Even as the morning wore on, and he became restless, he stood perfectly still, watching. He was an old man, but he fought the weariness in his legs to perform his duty.

  Just when he started to look around, to see if there was some place to sit for a moment, Flopson approached. Flopson was doing some contact juggling with one of his glass juggling balls. Gabriel tried to think if there was ever a time that Flopson wasn’t juggling something.

  “Good morning, stinky,” Flopson said.

  “Good morning,” Gabriel said.

  “Put you on a little chase there, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, “It wouldn’t have hurt for you to send word.”

  “It was more fun this way.”

  “The point isn’t to have fun.”

  “Says you.”

  “The point--”

  “--is the sharp end of the sword?”

  “Flopson, be serious.”

  “I can’t. I’m Flopson.”

  “We were worried sick. We had assumed the worst.”

  “You assumed that I was going to start singing again?”

  “No, we assumed that Michael was dead.”

  “Because, man! I cannot sing to save my life.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “No, you haven’t; That’s why you’ve never killed yourself. Come to
think of it, why have you never killed yourself?”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying, if I were, you know, all old and cantankerous and smelly like you are, I would have performed a coup de grace on myself a long time ago.”

  “Why don’t we just stand quietly for a moment, huh?”

  “Sorry, I don’t take requests.”

  But Flopson did stand quietly for a moment. He let the crystal ball roll across his chest and to his other hand, where he continued the trick. He was good at juggling, and actually was also good at singing. It was a little thing he had kept a secret for a long time. He had spread rumors, very carefully, through unsuspecting strangers, that he was the worst singer in the Kingdom. The truth was he was very good, as he was with all things performance-related, and he wanted to surprise someone someday with it. Just one person, once. But he was saving his jest for the right moment, and it hadn’t come yet.

  “You know, stinky, if you need to take a break, I can keep an eye on our lazy friend.”

  “Flopson! Is this an act of generosity?”

  “No, I just don’t think you’re doing a very good job of watching. I’ve already taken your coin purse.”

  Gabriel felt his belt and noted that, indeed, his coin purse was gone. He opened his palm and Flopson returned it.

  “Oh,” Flopson said, reaching into his other pocket, “You probably want these, too.”

  Flopson palmed a fistful of bootlaces into Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel held his foot out, and noted that his boots were sans laces. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and walked over to a tree stump. A moment later, Alderthorn the Wanderer came up to the tent, looked in on Michael, then came back to Gabriel.

  “Good morning, my friend,” Alderthorn said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m tired,” Gabriel said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to spend nights outdoors, camping, keeping watch, that sort of thing. And, I’m not getting any younger.”

  “None of us are,” Alderthorn said, sitting across from Gabriel and crossing his legs. “But your weariness comes from something else, I suspect.”

  “Are you a mind reader, too?”

  “No,” Alderthorn said, “But some people wear their minds on their sleeves.”