A Kingdom Rises

by J. D. Rinehart

  Dawn light was streaming through the open archway. The lawn outside was thronged with people, all of them busily preparing weapons and armor for the coming battle.

  Elodie grabbed a handful of food from a long trestle table on which a breakfast of bread and fruit had been laid out, then crossed the grass to where Cedric and Sylva were saddling up Valor and two other horses.

  “So you decided to join us, sleepyhead?” Cedric laughed.

  “You should have woken me up.”

  “We didn’t want to disturb you,” said Sylva. “It’s going to be a big day, and we thought you could use the sleep.”

  “You were probably right. Is my horse ready?”

  Cedric finished tightening Valor’s girth strap. “Everything’s ready, Elodie. We’re just awaiting your command.”

  On the far side of the lawn, Gulph was talking to a group of Deep Poynt men. As Elodie watched, several Vicerin soldiers—their blue sashes unmistakable—cautiously joined them. Gulph said something to one of them, who laughed. Then they were all laughing.

  “They like him,” said Sylva, following Elodie’s gaze.

  “They’ll follow him,” added Cedric.

  That’s my brother, thought Elodie with a tingle of pride.

  Nearby, The Hammer was inspecting a battalion from Gulph’s combined army. Behind them, Elodie could see the invisible battalions of her ghosts assembling in the trees.

  On the other side of the lawn, a huge pack of animals had gathered. Tarlan was addressing them from the remains of what had once been an ornamental fountain. Beside him stood the wolf and the tigron Elodie remembered from the time they’d spent together with Trident. Tarlan also seemed to have added an enormous bear to his high command since she’d seen him last.

  Overhead, the three thorrods circled endlessly, their feathers blazing in the morning sun.

  We’re ready. I actually think we’re ready.

  Elodie was about to go over to Gulph when Melchior’s voice rang out.

  “Elodie! Tarlan! Gulph! Children of the prophecy, kings and queen of Toronia—will you come to me now?”

  All heads turned toward the wizard. He was standing on the steps of Castle Darrand with Kalia at his side. Between them they carried three sets of armor.

  A shiver ran down Elodie’s spine.

  Feeling the eyes of the three armies on her, she made her way to the bottom of the steps. Gulph and Tarlan met her there.

  “No going back now,” said Tarlan.

  “Never,” Gulph agreed.

  Elodie took their hands. Together they mounted the steps.

  “This is yours, Elodie,” said Kalia, handing over the silver armor she’d worn during the battle at Castle Vicerin. “And here is armor for you, Gulph, and you, Tarlan. I recovered it from the strong room inside the hall. It will fit you well.”

  Elodie was first to dress, flexing her arms and making sure the edges of the breastplate didn’t rub against them. Tarlan watched her closely, then clumsily donned his own segmented suit of polished bronze. He completed his ensemble by tying his tattered black cloak around his neck.

  Gulph’s awkward posture made it hard for him to wear regular armor, so Kalia had picked out a set of gold chainmail and a light helmet, which kept falling down over his face. Elodie adjusted the chinstrap, then helped him settle his pack on his shoulders.

  “This is heavy,” she said. “What’s inside it?”

  To her surprise, Gulph whirled round, gaping at her.

  “I’m such an idiot! I never showed you!”

  Elodie exchanged a glance with Tarlan, who looked as bemused as she felt. “What didn’t you show us?”

  Gulph took a deep breath. “It’s the crown! The crown of Toronia! I’ve been carrying it for so long I just forgot . . . . I can’t believe I didn’t tell you!”

  Elodie put her hand to Gulph’s pack. She could feel the hard, cold metal beneath the fabric. A thrill ran through her.

  “Do you want to see it?” said Gulph.

  Reluctantly, Elodie pulled her hand away. “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Elodie’s right,” said Tarlan. “Let’s wait until the battle’s won.”

  They stood for a moment, contemplating the contents of Gulph’s pack. Then Kalia said, “I see a stretcher floating through the trees. Either the world is stranger than we thought, or our spies have returned.”

  They emerged from the woods—Lady Darrand, Lord Winterborne, and the two Ritherlee nobles who’d fought so bravely in the Star Chamber of Castle Vicerin.

  Lying on the stretcher was the corpse of Lord Vicerin.

  Elodie hurried down the steps to meet them. “You found him without any trouble?”

  The ghosts laid the stretcher down at her feet.

  “His body had not been disturbed,” Lady Darrand replied. “We were not seen.”

  Lord Vicerin’s corpse was still clad in the same silver armor. The same ornate helmet, complete with its elaborate blue plume, still obscured the face. The same trail of blood—dried now and dark—stained the left side of its breastplate.

  Elodie was dimly aware of Sylva and Cedric watching her. Everyone was watching her—Melchior and Kalia, her brothers, the assembled armies.

  Just do it, she told herself, ignoring them all, ignoring the clamor of her heart as it tried to climb its way out of her chest. It’s only a dead body. Take the jewels and you won’t ever have to see him again.

  Hands shaking, she tugged at the top of his breastplate. It didn’t move. The body was sickeningly heavy. There was no gap between the top of the breastplate and the bottom of his helmet.

  She was going to have to lift up the visor.

  The last thing Elodie wanted to do was see Lord Vicerin’s face again. But she had no choice.

  What if he isn’t really dead? What if I pull back the visor and his eyes open?

  If that happened, she wouldn’t even be able to scream. She’d probably just drop dead on the spot.

  Don’t be so stupid. He’s dead. You know he is. Just do it!

  Elodie slipped her fingers under the bottom of the visor and slid it up.

  Her heart stopped. Her hands flew up like startled birds. She decided she was going to scream after all. But when she tried, she found she had no breath.

  She was unable to believe her eyes.

  The man inside the suit of armor—the man she’d killed—was not Lord Vicerin.

  It was Stown.

  CHAPTER 18

  Elodie’s scream split the air. Gulph rushed immediately to his sister’s side. Tarlan, bigger and stronger than him, pushed past them both and tore the dead man’s silver breastplate loose. Beneath the armor was a tunic stained almost black with blood.

  “No jewels!” Tarlan roared, flinging the breastplate across the grass. He stared at the face of the corpse. “It’s not Vicerin!”

  “Who is he, Elodie?” said Gulph, gently holding her trembling shoulders.

  “Stown!” she said. Her hand was clamped to her mouth, muffling her words. “He betrayed Trident and ended up fighting for the Vicerins. He’s . . . he’s the one who executed Fessan!”

  Gulph stared at her, unable to speak. Executed? Fessan was Ossilius’s son, and Gulph’s heart wrenched for his friend. He didn’t want to believe it.

  “I don’t understand!” Tarlan’s hands curled over the dead man’s exposed throat, as if he wanted to strangle him.

  “A decoy,” said Gulph, recovering his composure. “This fancy armor—it’s Lord Vicerin’s?”

  “Y-yes,” said Elodie.

  “They must have switched places,” said Gulph. “You thought you were fighting Lord Vicerin, but it was really this Stown.”

  “Vicerin was always a coward,” Elodie replied. “I should have known he’d never put himself in real danger.”

  Gulph thought back to his encounter with Captain Ariston and the Vicerin soldiers the previous night. What was it they’d said?

  “He’s probably safe somewhere. Slippe
ry as an eel.”

  He helped Elodie up. Tarlan, still crouching over Stown’s body, glared up at them.

  “Vicerin is still alive,” said Gulph. “And he still has both your jewels.”

  Sylva, watching from where she stood near the horses, began to wail. Cedric embraced her as best he could with his one arm. Gulph could only imagine their confusion. Should they be happy that their father wasn’t dead after all, or distraught that their enemy was still at large?

  At the top of the stairs, Melchior and Kalia looked down with matching expressions of concern.

  “I thought I’d defeated him,” Elodie said in a flat, low voice. “How could I have been so wrong?”

  “He tricked us!” growled Tarlan. He rose to his feet, red-faced, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  Someone needs to stay calm here, thought Gulph.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” he said, pitching his voice so that everyone on the lawn would hear. “If Lord Vicerin marched in here right now, nobody would join him. His soldiers are our soldiers now. Their loyalty lies with Toronia.”

  “I don’t think I can—”Elodie began.

  “You can,” said Gulph firmly. “Our first concern is the Galadronians. We have to drive them out of the castle. Drive them back where they came from.”

  “If I see Vicerin again, I’ll kill him with my bare hands!” said Tarlan.

  “And you may get that chance.” Gulph frowned, thinking hard. “He might still be at the castle. If he’s as treacherous as you say, he might even have struck a deal with the Galadronians.”

  Elodie nodded slowly. “Yes . . . yes, Gulph, you could be right. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Gulph watched as she gathered herself, straightening her back and standing tall in her armor. Beside her, Tarlan bowed his head and dropped his hands to his sides, visibly bringing his anger under control.

  “Are you ready to do this?” he said to them both.

  “Yes,” said Elodie, brushing a lock of red-gold hair away from her face. She’d told Gulph how she’d cut it short while she’d been with Trident; now it was beginning to grow back. “I’ll go and tell the ghosts that we’re ready to march out.”

  “All right. And you, Tarlan?”

  “I’m fine,” said Tarlan. “I just need to finish talking to my pack.”

  They left without another look at Stown. Gulph considered detailing some of his soldiers to carry the body away, then decided he had more important things to do.

  Let the crows have you. For killing Fessan, it’s all you deserve.

  Seeking out The Hammer, Gulph found the big man deep in conversation with Captain Ariston. Between them, they’d arranged into formal ranks the people of Deep Poynt, the Vicerin troops, and those who’d survived the assault on Castle Darrand.

  There are hundreds here, Gulph realized with growing anticipation. This is actually beginning to look like an army.

  Three horses had been prepared for them; The Hammer’s was a huge war-mount with shaggy white hooves and legs like tree trunks. Both Gulph and Ariston had been given sleek Vicerin chargers.

  Unused to riding, Gulph took several moments to settle himself in the saddle. When he was finally comfortable, he noted with surprise that all his troops were staring at him.

  Looks like there’s something else to be done before we fight, he thought.

  Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, he said to the watching soldiers, “I want us all to remember why we’re here.”

  “To kill the enemy!” called a Deep Poynt man carrying a scythe.

  There was some laughter at this, and a few cheers. But many people, Gulph noted, looked apprehensive or even fearful.

  “That’s true.” His voice gained volume as he spoke. “But this isn’t about killing. It isn’t even about fighting. Those are just the things we have to do if we want to bring this war to an end. That’s why we’re here. If the battle is won today, tomorrow you won’t have to fight anymore. You can go home to your families and start rebuilding what the enemy has destroyed. You’re not waging a war. You’re fighting so that the war will end. You’re fighting so that peace can begin! Fighting to survive. That’s what you are: my Army of Survivors!”

  This time the cheers were louder. Some faces remained fearful, but most of the soldiers now stood erect and resolute, with their weapons held high.

  Elodie’s voice floated out from the nearby woods. Gulph couldn’t make out her words, but he could tell from her tone that she was delivering her own speech to her invisible army. Then Elodie shouted something and the whole line of trees shimmered. Figures appeared, seeming to form themselves out of the dust-filled dawn air: men and women, some armored, some not, as varied in costume and countenance as Gulph’s own army, yet at the same time as transparent as smoke.

  Cries of alarm broke out among the ranks of Gulph’s human army. Captain Ariston and The Hammer rode up and down the lines, keeping order. Gulph waved his sword.

  “Don’t be afraid! They are our friends, our allies. Just like you, they’re fighting for what they believe in. The only difference is that their homes lie in the realm beyond. Will you stand with them?”

  For a moment, he feared the sight of Elodie’s ghost army had been too much of a shock. Then Lady Darrand appeared at the front of the line of ghosts. She raised her arms, then lowered them. As one, the ghosts bowed to their human counterparts.

  After the briefest of pauses, the Army of Survivors returned the bow.

  A Vicerin woman started clapping her hands. Soon everyone was applauding. The ghosts straightened up and lifted their thin, wavering voices into the morning air. From the other side of the lawn came a cacophony of animal shrieks and howls as Tarlan’s enormous pack joined the strange dawn chorus.

  Elodie rode to the front of her phantom army on her fine black mare. Tarlan leaped onto the back of the golden thorrod, Theeta. Gulph caught the eye first of his sister, then his brother. The rising sun turned their red-gold hair into flaming beacons.

  Together, they raised their swords above their heads, shielding their eyes as the blades burned bright with the light of the prophecy stars.

  So, this is it, Gulph thought in wonder. We’re finally going to war.

  • • •

  By the time they’d left Castle Darrand behind, the sun had already risen above the trees. Cresting the brow of a low hill, Gulph reined in his horse and looked back into the morning glare.

  The three armies streamed out behind him. His own Army of Survivors were finding it hard to march in time, and it was as much as The Hammer and Captain Ariston could do to keep them together. But they looked bold and confident.

  And more than ready for a fight.

  To Gulph’s right, Elodie seemed to be having an easier time with her Army of Ghosts. Sylva and Cedric rode with her at the head of a gray river of phantom figures, which flowed effortlessly across the landscape. At Elodie’s side, her long hair flying in the breeze, rode Kalia.

  To Gulph’s left ran the pack—Tarlan’s formidable following of beasts and birds. Gulph had lost count of the number of animals whose loyalty Tarlan commanded. There were foxes and wolves, horses and deer, boar and bears, eagles and snakes . . . a dizzying array. Leading the pack was Tarlan himself, riding on Theeta’s back. Nasheen flew with them, carrying Melchior the wizard. Tarlan’s other close friends—the wolf, the tigron, the giant bear, and the black-breasted thorrod called Kitheen, seemed to be acting as his lieutenants, keeping the animals on course and in formation.

  Oh, Pip, Gulph thought, I hope I get to see you again, so I can tell you all about this.

  The sky remained cloudless throughout the day, the prophecy stars clearly visible except at noon, when the midday sun overwhelmed them. They reappeared as the sun began its descent into the west, one red, one gold, one green.

  One for each of us.

  Tarlan had told Gulph and Elodie how he’d seen one of the stars dim and believed it was because Gulph had died in the fires
at Idilliam. The triplets now thought its light had faded while Elodie made her extraordinary journey to the Realm of the Dead.

  I hope the stars never go out.

  The afternoon shadows were lengthening behind them when they reached the thin arm of woodland shielding the eastern side of Castle Vicerin. Here Gulph raised his arm and brought his army to a temporary halt. No sooner had he done this than Theeta swooped down to circle low over his head.

  “It’s time for us to part!” Tarlan called down. “Good luck, brother!”

  “And to you!”

  Gulph watched with a mixture of admiration and fear as Tarlan and Melchior led the pack west and south to where the woods grew thick, to lie in wait there until the time was right to launch their surprise attack.

  “Gulph!” called Elodie. “Are you ready?”

  “I’ve been ready all day!” he shouted back. “Stay safe, Elodie!”

  “See you on the battlefield!”

  Spurring their horses, Elodie and Kalia rode north toward the swamp she’d called the Forgotten Graveyard. Behind her went Sylva and Cedric, and the immense rolling tide that was the Army of Ghosts.

  “That just leaves us, lad!” boomed The Hammer. Jostling his enormous horse close, he gave Gulph a backslap so powerful it almost catapulted him from his saddle. “Forward ho!”

  Branches clawed at Gulph’s face as his horse picked its way through the narrow belt of trees. He spent a few moments brushing them aside, and then they were through and into a wide, flat field. Gulph continued to ride forward, allowing his soldiers to fan out behind him.

  In the middle of the field he stopped and stared at what Castle Vicerin had become. The sight took his breath away.

  When Gulph had last seen the castle—only the day before—it had been halfway to becoming a ruin. Several of the towers had collapsed, and fires had still burned in its many courtyards, blackening the crumbling walls with soot.