***
With sunset now about an hour away, the weary travelers walked up to the outer garrison of the castle. A soldier wearing a maroon uniform stepped up to them.
“Greetings, strangers. What business have ye in R’Tal?”
Thankful to encounter a soldier more prone to ask questions than in drawing steel, Steve yet again presented the dagger. This time he didn’t even have to take it off his belt.
Tired, hungry, and not wanting to mince words, Steve summed up their situation. “My wife and I seek an audience with the king and queen. This dagger belongs to Rhenyon. He sent us here.”
Being highly trained not to ask too many questions once the proper credentials had been supplied, no matter how bizarre, the gatekeeper stepped aside and waved them through.
Working their way through the many streets, always angling towards the high turreted fortress they could see in the distance, Steve and Sarah made it to the castle just in time to see the guards preparing to raise the heavy wooden drawbridge for the night.
“Wait, wait up!” Steve called out. “We need to get inside.”
The three guards that were retreating into the castle stopped to look back across the moat. One stepped forward.
“State your business.”
“We seek an audience with the king.” Again, he presented the dagger. Again, they were waved across. “I can see why Rhenyon gave us this thing now,” he muttered to Sarah once they had entered the castle interior. Together, they turned to watch as the drawbridge was raised. Both jumped as the massive wooden structure thumped forcefully up against the stones of the castle. “So, what now, brown cow?”
Sarah laughed. “Well, when in doubt, we get some directions.” Looking around, she walked up to the closest person she could find, a woman roughly her own age that was pushing a cart of clean linens. “Excuse me, ma’am, can you help us?”
The servant girl, startled to be addressed, paused and looked at the newcomers. “Yes? Can I help ye?”
“We seek an audience with the king and queen. I know it’s late, but can you tell us where we might find them? Or maybe get a message to them?”
The servant girl blinked in surprise. Two strangely dressed foreigners were in front of her, openly inquiring about the whereabouts of the Kri’yans? Should this be reported to the guards? As a loyal servant to the crown, she directed them towards the Great Hall, while rushing off to find someone in authority.
Gently navigating their way through throngs of castle personnel that all appeared to have somewhere important to go, Steve and Sarah finally beheld the castle’s Great Hall, receiving room for ambassadors, emissaries, and visiting kings and queens. There, against the far wall to the right of a massive hearth were the gilded thrones of their royal majesties, Kri’Entu and Ny’Callé.
With no one to say otherwise, Steve slowly walked up to the pair of golden thrones, running his hands along the carved surface. Upon closer inspection, the thrones appeared to be hand carved with designs, symbols he was not familiar with. Squatting down on his haunches, he was unsurprised to discover that the strange runes on both chairs matched the symbols on the portal door frames back home. Sarah came up behind him.
“I don’t think you should be doing that, do you? The people here might consider it offensive if two non-Lentarians are caught messing with the thrones of their king and queen.”
“Non-Lentarians?”
Steve and Sarah both whirled around. The voice was soft, kind, and fortunately, non-threatening. The lady, Steve judged, looked to be in her early thirties, wearing a simple but elegant grey floor-length gown lined with green silk on the inner sleeves. A pair of emeralds dangled from her ears, with several silver bracelets clinking softly on her left arm. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid that extended halfway down her back. She had to be the wife of a nobleman, Steve figured.
“Non-Lentarians?” she repeated. “Did I hear ye correctly?”
Taking a deep breath, Steve met the lady’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am. You heard correctly, we are not from this kingdom. If you ask me where we’re from, I doubt you’d believe me.”
Looking at the two fidgeting people in front of her, the mystery lady smiled. Although, Steve thought, the smile did appear rather guarded.
“Do not let that concern ye. I would know how two foreigners came to be in this castle. So,” she clasped her hands together and sat in a nearby seat. “Let us begin with yer names.” Waiting patiently, she stared expectantly at her captivated audience of two.
Bemused by the odd nature on how this conversation was playing out, Steve and Sarah could only stare at the seated woman that was studying them, waiting patiently for an answer.
“Ummm, okay, my name is Steve, and this is my wife, Sarah.”
Those intimidating brown eyes shifted to his wife and held her gaze.
Sarah gave a small wave and a quiet “hello”.
“We come from, um, a far away land and are just looking for a way home. We were told that the king and queen would be able to help us find some way to do that.”
The soft voice spoke again. “Find some way?” she asked. “That implies that the two of ye do not know how to return home. What is the name of yer kingdom?”
“Our land is called America. And no, you wouldn’t have heard of it,” Steve said, before their interviewer could ask where that particular kingdom was.
“I see. Would ye be from the Land of Idaho in the Kingdom of America, then?”
Shock registered in both of their eyes. How? How does she know where they’re from? There’s no way she could know that! Steve and Sarah looked at each other. What do they say now?
The lady in gray simply held her hand up, surprising both Steve and Sarah into silence. Clapping her hands three times, a servant girl, the same from the corridor before, appeared out of the shadows of the room.
“Please ask my husband to join me here.”
The girl nodded, and disappeared back into the shadows.
Sarah looked at the lady in gray, realization finally dawning on her. “You’re the queen, aren’t you?”
Smiling, Ny’Callé nodded her head. “The two of ye intrigue me. I would hear yer story, but we will wait for my husband.”
A few minutes later, Kri’Entu entered the Hall, striding up to his wife. He gave her a small smile and a nod before looking at the two strangers. The king appeared to be about five years older than his wife. His temples were graying, but his demeanor was energetic, seeming to electrify the room with his presence. There was a scrambling in the background as all the soldiers keeping a silent vigil snapped to attention.
“Steve, Sarah, I present my husband, Entu, King of Lentari.”
The king nodded, measuring up Steve as a potential opponent. He and the stranger shared many physical traits with one another, Kri’Entu decided. They were the same height and roughly the same mass. Could this actually be who he thought it was? If so, then that means…
“So ye are from the Land of Idaho? Kingdom of America? Are ye kin to the Scribes?”
“Are you talking about my grandparents? Simon and Grace? Is that who you’re referring to?”
The queen inhaled sharply. “Yer grandparents? They are safe then? We have not had any word from them for many fortnights.”
Steve’s gaze fell, and the Kri’yans knew the answer before he could speak.
As gently as she could, the queen asked what had happened. Relaying all that he knew about the accident, omitting anything that the Lentarians wouldn’t understand, Steve told them about his grandparents’ unfortunate demise.
The king spoke up. “We are truly sorry for yer loss. Yer grandparents were respected members of our court.” He looked at his wife and shook his head. “I would not have thought to look at the kin of our Scribes for the answer.”
Steve looked from the king to the queen. “The answer to what?”
The
queen suddenly came to life and leapt forward to embrace them both in a hug, as though they had known each other all their lives.
“We are so thankful ye are finally here! I had suspected and hoped that I was looking at the Nohrin when I first saw the two of ye.”
In unison, the two Americans said, “The what?”
Kri’Entu smiled, clapping Steve on the back. “It is an ancient word. In the archaic tongue, it translates to ‘The Protectors.’”
The Prophecy Page 12
