by Meg Cowley
“And my mother?” Soren breathed with dread. “Tell me,” he said when Edmund met his gaze with a horror Soren had never before seen there.
Edmund licked his lips nervously before he continued. “She was already dead,” Edmund said. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Soren stared at him, feeling numb. “How?” he forced himself to ask.
“A blow to the head.”
She was clubbed to death like a badger. Soren could not comprehend it. She sprang into his mind’s eye, smiling at him as he had seen her last before his departure on the ill-fated hunting trip.
“There was no time to care for her,” Edmund said, as Soren listened with a morbid fascination, still unable to connect Edmund’s words to his mother. “Caledan, perhaps now more than ever in recent years, stands on a knife-edge. I could not find either you or your sister; alas I feared the worst.
“Your sister, dear sweet Irumae, was already gone when I reached her chambers. It was clear that there had been a struggle, however the fact there was no body or blood heartens me. We must pray that she is safe. With you alive and free, Caledan has hope.”
Edmund looked up, although he did not meet Soren’s eye. Instead his eyes glazed over, unseeing, seeming to speak to himself. “So many others have passed. The fighting in the great hall was violence and brutality, as I have never seen the men of our Kingdom commit. What should have been friend sat with friend feasting and laughing was foe against foe cutting down man after man in a great gash of blood. This was a trap, waiting to spring into action. Every traitorous man knew his orders. I saw council member after council member loyal to the crown mobbed and cut down, whatever the cost in lives, so that their voices were silenced.
“I can only guess at the outcomes that this may have on Caledan. I cannot imagine what plans Zaki must have to explain this to his advantage.”
“Can I go back?” Soren broke the long silence. He still could not accept Edmund’s words, yet the man’s emotional recount had unsettled him, adding to the feeling of unease he had awoken with. He wouldn’t lie. Not about this. But he doesn’t seem insane, either.
Edmund shook his head. “I cannot guarantee your safety. As the heir to the throne, Zaki will seek you out. I fear what he will do if you return.”
If it is true, there will be a funeral, Soren thought, unable to connect that concept with his mother, but I may not go. “What of my sister?” he asked Edmund. The older man paused, shifting his posture. Soren’s eyes narrowed; Edmund seemed evasive, and with good cause.
“I do not know her whereabouts, or her wellbeing,” Edmund admitted. “We cannot go back for her. We must journey away from here.”
“To where? If I can’t return to Pandora, then where can I go where I will be safe? And how can you ask me to leave Irumae if there is a chance we could help her?” Soren replied, indignant. “If things are as you say, surely there is no one keeping her safe – she is just a child!”
“We cannot help her, however perhaps there are others who can. We should journey to your kin in Arlyn.”
“To what end? Karn is old and his forces thin. If we are to be safe and have some chance of a haven we should go to a monastery and claim sanctuary. Not even Zaki would touch us there and they may know where my sister is.”
Edmund remained quiet for a moment, his mouth twisting in disapproval. “No one is to say what Zaki is or is not capable of; he is not a normal man. Besides, why would you hide away? We should fight, sire! We should wait and we should recover at Arlyn under Lord Karn’s protection, and then we should fight Zaki,” Edmund insisted, pounding a clenched fist on the ground beside him.
“The Kingdom should not have to suffer for this!” Edmund continued. “You have seen the means he has used to claim the throne, turning against his own kin and committing the vilest of sins. What hope does anyone in the Kingdom have that he will be a benevolent and great ruler like his forebears? What right minded person will accept his rule as fair and just?”
“Edmund, my uncle has shown his cunning. What proof is there of our claim?” Soren challenged the older man, just as inflamed. “He is bound to have created some tale to explain this all away and remove any blame from his own shoulders. What possible evidence can we provide to stand up in any just court of law – if such a thing would be allowed – that will see him cast down? Well?”
At this, Edmund’s eyes hardened. “I have the letter.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled and bloodied parchment, complete with the broken seal of King Harad.
“How is this possible?” Soren asked.
“It was in your mother’s possession when I left her. I knelt to check if she had any breath or heartbeat in her and saw it under her dresser. I recognised the seal. I knew it would be the only evidence I would have time to retrieve, so I took it. Nevertheless, the claim to the throne and for justice lies on you. Sire.” He held out the letter to Soren, bowing his head.
The prince stepped forward to take it, looking at the folded piece of parchment in his hands as he traced a finger over crusted patches. The parchment was crisp and bright in contrast to the terrible crimson darkness that stained it. “Is this...?” He dared not ask the question.
“It is hers,” Edmund replied. They sat in silence as the life of the wood thrummed around them in the morning sun, each wrapped in their thoughts.
Soren held the letter in his lap, fixated upon the patches of blood - his mother’s. He ignored the radiant sun imprinted on the golden wax seal and gave a cursory glance to the spiky black ink that penned the fateful message. Still unable to conceive the events, which felt altogether too bizarre to begin to accept, he cleared his throat. Edmund glanced up from his own reverie.
“So,” Soren said. “We must have a plan. Are we safe enough here for the time being?”
“Yes. Zaki will realise our absence.” Edmund replied. “I do not think he will know we are together. First, he will search Pandora. He will seek you with all his power and we must move swiftly if we are to survive. I do not think his intentions will be kind. I believe we should go south, to Arlyn,” he insisted once more. “Your father’s kin could be your best protection. I fear Zaki may send his men there but a surer ally we may not find.”
“My path lies north,” argued Soren. “The ceremonial crown is held at the northern monastery. If I am to claim sanctuary I must go there. The last monarch must lay in the capital for seven days of mourning and the heir to the throne must also observe this tradition, before going to claim the crown with his or her own hands. The true test of kingship is whether he or she can obtain the crown,” Soren recited as he had done many times before, almost in a monotone. “Zaki sees himself as the heir – will he remain in Pandora for a week?” he asked Edmund, frowning.
“I believe so. He must be seen to act properly. His men however may not,” Edmund said. “Are you certain of your path? I must go to Arlyn to seek Lord Karn’s advice and ask him to send an envoy to the Eldarkind on your behalf to seek their counsel. Are you sure you cannot come with me and we will journey north after? We could even journey to Ednor and seek sanctuary with the Eldarkind themselves. Zaki would not be able to reach you there.”
“I’m sure,” said Soren. “We must act quickly, as you say. If I have to leave Irumae, we have seven days at best if Zaki remains in Pandora. If we wait too long we may not be safe to travel and I might not find her.
“I think you’re right to seek the help of the Eldarkind, however I doubt they will act. They might shelter us but I can’t go to them. If Zaki learns I am there, he could trap me and then I would have no way to help Irumae. I must go to the northern monastery and ask them to help me find my sister. If I can also claim the crown for myself there instead of Zaki, then maybe I could stop him too. Will you return to me afterwards?”
“Of course. I will accompany you on the north road and swing south from there to Arlyn. You will be safe there at least; the monks will shelter you and I am sure they can help you find Irumae,” said
Edmund. “I fear there will be a great struggle, but I would not leave you save where I must. As I swore fealty to your mother, I now swear it to you.” He struggled to his feet with a grimace and came to kneel before Soren.
Soren regarded Edmund, who bowed before him with hands clasped over his sword, its point sunk into the soft ground. I have a one-man army. One old man. He touched Edmund’s thinning hair with his palm and accepted his oath. He could not think of himself as a king. If he had not felt so numb, he would not have known whether to laugh or cry.
Zaki
Zaki’s fingers drummed upon the desk as Lord Reynard made his reports. At last, Reynard’s voice trailed off and Zaki breathed a sigh of relief. The heat was almost unbearable; the windows had been opened, but the air was still and close and perspiration clogged his skin. “Are there any more to account for?” he asked, fanning himself with a parchment.
“No, sir. All bodies have been collected and most identified.” Reynard stepped forward with a list. “Here are those worthy of note.”
“Excellent. Draw up orders confiscating all their lands and assets in the name of the crown. I want their houses penniless and crushed.” Zaki scanned down the list, relieved by its length. His acting treasurer had already informed him that the accounts were not healthy enough to fund a potential civil war and this was a tidy way to bolster royal funds.
Reynard hesitated.
Zaki raised an eyebrow.
“We have not yet found trace of Sir Edmund Arransson, sir,” Reynard admitted.
“We must find him,” Zaki replied, fleetingly wondering if Edmund and Soren’s paths had joined. “Have notices drawn for him also. An earldom for his capture, dead or alive, and a traitor’s death to anyone who harbours him. Send them out with Soren’s banners on the morrow or sooner if they’re done. I want these in every village and town in Caledan. Send a detachment from the local company to Edmund’s estate; if he hides there I want him found.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Would that I could ride out myself.” Zaki rose, frustrated. “I despise being trapped here.”
“You know it to be necessary, sir.” Reynard sympathised. “There are only six days of mourning left before you may leave in good faith.”
“Six days too many.” Zaki scowled. “What a blasted tradition. At least my men may come and go as they please. You must travel in my stead; lead an advance guard to the northern monastery where the crown is held. I have doubts about the allegiance of the abbot. He was far too close to my sister and I want my crown secure. I will ride to meet you with reinforcements the very moment I may.”
Reynard bowed. “It would be my pleasure, sir.” He departed. Zaki barely had time to take a refreshing gulp of his iced tea before there came a knock on the door.
“The Lord Steward,” announced his manservant. Zaki swallowed a curse, forcing himself to smile sadly, as the lord steward of Pandora entered his office.
“How good to see you, Lord Steward Behan,” he greeted the older man with a show of deference.
“Your Royal Highness.” Behan bowed. “I am devastated by the loss of our fair queen and come to offer you my condolences.” He sniffed and dabbed his nose with a handkerchief as Zaki observed him, trying to determine his sincerity. I would not trust this man as far as I could throw him, he thought to himself.
“It is a terrible blow,” Zaki was forced to reply. “My thanks for your concerns. I seek now to find Prince Soren and bring him to justice for what he has done.”
“I find it so hard to believe that a prince so beloved by the people could commit such a heinous act.” Behan did not skirt the issue. “How sure are you that he committed it?”
“Oh, it is beyond doubt. The Queen’s own guards witnessed it. One survived to tell the tale, but he died of his wounds in the night.”
“How… unfortunate,” murmured Behan. Zaki had no doubt that Behan was instead thinking, how convenient.
“Others will tell you they saw Soren running from the citadel covered in blood,” Zaki said. “In the chaos, who can be sure? His allies have certainly been crushed.” His voice hardened. “And all those who support him have been declared traitor for their part in this plot, to die despairing that they have failed and that all their titles, lands and assets will be gifted to the crown in payment for their crimes.”
Behan paled. “As it should be,” he murmured. “I of course serve the crown and take no part in these matters,” he added swiftly. “What of Her Royal Highness princess Irumae?” he enquired. “Is she safe and well?”
“She is safe, though not well,” Zaki said with feigned sadness. “My dear niece is distraught at her mother’s death and brother’s treason.”
“She is the next in line to the throne, though,” Behan said.
Zaki was careful in his reaction. “She is, however she is in no fit state to assume the throne and will not hear of it. Why, she tried to sign it over to me!”
“And did you let her, sir?”
“Of course not,” Zaki hastened to add, choosing his words with care. “However, for the sake of the realm perhaps it would be an option to consider. Perhaps it is the frailty of her sex, but the girl seems to have lost her mind. Perhaps it is worth considering a return to the old ways of male inheritance.” He let the idea hang in the air.
“You would be the next in line to the throne if that came to pass.” Behan fiddled with the huge ring of his office that adorned his hand.
“I do not suggest this lightly,” said Zaki. “I only think of the security of Caledan, Lord Steward. Think of my father in law: King Harad swallows countries of weak leadership and other sharks circle beyond our borders. Caledan must remain strong. Leaving its fate in the hands of an unstable, untrained and untested girl could prove fatal.”
“I cannot disagree with your principles, sir,” Behan replied with utmost care, “but what of the succession? Legally, she is the heir to Caledan’s throne if Soren is to be declared traitor and abdicated in his absence.”
“I know not of the legalities,” Zaki said. One signature from Irumae countersigned by a law reader and Caledan is mine; it is too easy. “Perhaps there is a way.”
“I will consult the law readers with utmost haste to clarify this on your behalf if you wish, sir,” said the steward.
For your own ends, you mean, snake, thought Zaki. Instead he replied, “that would be most appreciated, Lord Steward. We must ensure Caledan remains strong.”
Behan bowed and left with speed. Zaki could not miss the consternation upon the steward’s face, well concealed as it was. He sat back in his chair, smiling at the discomfort he had caused and smug at outwitting the steward. Behan, notorious for having his finger in every pie in Pandora and many throughout Caledan, had not been expecting this, he was sure. It was satisfying to be so many steps ahead of everyone else in what felt like his own little game.
Behan
“Thank you for your promptness. Her condition has not improved in the past day, and I fear for her wellbeing,” Behan said. “I thought best to call upon you sir, to see if you could determine the source of her malady.” It was the third time he had called upon Irumae in the past hours, and each time she lay immobile and unconscious, though she breathed and there was a hint of colour upon her cheeks.
“Naturally,” the royal physician answered. “My colleagues and I shall examine her. If you would be so kind?” He gestured to the door.
“Of course.” Behan hurried to leave. His guard waited outside Irumae’s rooms, ready to warn him should anyone call. He had distracted Zaki’s men with false orders so that he could conduct the medical examination in secret, fearing that the princess had come to harm after his earlier conversation with Zaki. He expected such deviousness from Harad, but his underestimation of Zaki worried him. Who knows what he has planned.
It seemed an age before the physicians emerged. Behan, seated upon a couch rose eagerly. “Yes?”
The physician shook his head. “We can find no phys
ical issues, no marks or abnormalities upon her body. We cannot examine the state of her mind, but the most likely explanation is that she is in a state of shock – understandably – and her body has shut itself down.”
“Will she recover?” asked Behan.
“We cannot be sure,” the physician answered, to the steward’s dismay.
“Do not forget, I require the greatest discretion in this matter,” Behan called after him as he departed.
Behan left too, hurrying to meet with the chief law reader to discuss his findings. He travelled through alleys to the back entrance of the courts even though they were a stone’s throw across the square.
“Lord Heligan.” Behan rushed into the office wringing his hands, despite the secretary’s protests.
“Lord Steward – such urgency?” Heligan questioned.
Behan shut the door behind him for privacy and detailed Heligan with the physician’s conclusions.
Heligan sat back with a frown. “That is troubling to hear,” he said.
“We must decide what is most appropriate, Heligan.” Behan paced about the room. “There is the option of installing a regent in Irumae’s stead, but I fear Zaki pushes for the throne. I worry Irumae has come to deliberate harm under his orders.” He described the girl’s condition.
“That worries me further,” Heligan said. “If the law is to be kept, a regent must first be installed to rule in place of the princess, unless she herself signs over the throne willingly to him.”
“He says that she attempted to, though given her condition I am unsure if that be true. Who would fill the regency?” Behan searched his knowledge of the royal family tree – only distant cousins existed. No competition for Zaki’s claim.
“It would be the closest relative of age, legally,” Heligan confirmed, “or a pre-appointed regent. Alas,” he continued, as Behan’s face lit up with fresh hope. “There is no such arrangement. Sir Edmund signed as regent in the case of Naisa’s untimely death, but just to rule until Soren came of age. There was no such safeguard in place for Irumae.”
