Dream of Embers Book 1

by J.B. Kleynhans

She had to wait for Kaell at the entrance hall, the cook looking around confoundedly to finally spot her keeping out of sight, in the shadow of the staircase.

  ‘What took you?’ she hissed. ‘Did Erika sneak you a kiss? I know she likes you even if she would never admit it in front of Lenise.’

  Kaell blushed, ‘No Highness, I'm hassled by your summons. It was a rather rude awakening and I didn't sense this affection you think Erika might have for me. I am used to rising to the gentle tap of a robin pecking away at my small window, not by being smothered by my own spare pillow. I thought one of my fellow cooks finally decided to stoop to murder.’

  Shala laughed in her throat. ‘Stop being so piteous Kaell, Erika had her fun with you because she knows you too well. I think she finds your innocence endearing.’ Again he blushed.

  ‘Well she risked much, it was dark you see and I was on the verge of sounding high alarm when I accidently realized my assailant had breasts and that she was giggling at my desperation. This trip might've ended before it started.’

  Shala in the meanwhile was on the verge of telling Kaell to be quiet before he made her laugh the whole castle awake.

  ‘By the way Highness, at this point in time I would like to express my doubts about this plan,’ said Kaell worryingly.

  ‘You do? When we are caught I was hoping to tell them this was all your idea,’ said Shala, enjoying watching Kaell squirm in his own skin, which he so easily did.

  Walking through the bailey to the postern gate Kaell asked, ‘How does Your Highness suppose we pass the gate?’

  ‘Didn't Erika tell you? You're off to buy emergency kitchen supplies silly, and I am a kitchen hand to help you.’

  ‘Intriguing,’ commented Kaell, and he was left to explain exactly this story to the guards at the gate. They seemed annoyed at the early disturbance but at least not suspicious as to who might hide under the cloak. They were let through and into town.

  Shala was almost disappointed that she could breach her own guard this easily. It's probably harder getting in, she consoled herself.

  Kaell remained nervous even as they cleared away from the castle, and for good many reasons, he thought. If something even threatened to befall the Princess, he would be held accountable in any case. Not by the Princess herself, but by the much worse wrath of the household guard. He could already see Master Gremhalden whipping him with his one good arm.

  ‘It could be dangerous out in the streets Highness,’ protested Kaell again.

  ‘Which is why I’m bringing you along, am I not?’

  ‘My willingness to throw myself between you and danger notwithstanding, I fear I may prove of little resistance against any who means us harm.’

  ‘Then I will look out for both of us, I am armed,’ showing Kaell a sharp kitchen knife she stowed away deep in her robe. ‘And I will not hesitate faced with danger,’ she added confidently.

  ‘Then I am comforted in all but pride, had I only the mind to bring one of the kitchen knives... or at least some hotcakes to provide distraction with,’ said Kaell rather seriously.

  Shala laughed. ‘Who will harm us Kaell?’

  Kaell thought he would rather not answer.

  Shala enjoyed the awakening Attoras immensely. Huge droves of pigeons fluttered from the cobblestone roads to the roofs as the first men began to roam and mill, getting ready for the day. The sun climbed ever higher, breaching the long shadows and lightening the fountain in the town centre, then the statues, and finally the bridge running over the only canal in Attoras, splitting the city into the smaller west and slightly larger east side of town.

  The madam Telesa already readied her little shop near the castle gates, where she normally sold hot fudge from the chocolatiers as fast as they could make them. In turn the town children were allured here, playing games such as football or marbles, while others took their kites to just beyond the northern premises, where the wind was favourable.

  Following the kites Kaell and Shala headed directly north to the upper branch of town. The stables here, though smaller, were still of castle property and maintained for the convenience of laying right at the edge of town. Shala got them past the doors with a little key that opened a large lock, the chains that kept the bolt secure clattering on the little stone porch.

  ‘I hope the grooms don't come around too early, they might think the horses were taken by thieves,’ said Kaell.

  Shala ignored his worries.

  Inside they readied their horses, Shala taking her favourite mare from this particular stock, while Kaell chose the one horse he could even remotely ride, a grey flecked gelding with flat ears. He's so clumsy with horses thought Shala, watching him struggle to get the horse to a standstill for the saddling.

  Lucky that he could ride and that it would not be the first time they go off like this, although usually they did so with at least five members of the household guard. She clucked her tongue at him impatiently until they were finally ready.

  Outside now was a sprinkle of snow here and there, making small heaps melting sodden into the road, just enough for a person to habitually look up into Dunnoom to see if a blizzard raged at its peaks.

  They cantered, hugging close to the northern hills, sympathetic to all those little roads that saw neither hoof nor boot in the last few years. Kaell had the worst time keeping up, the horse growing more and more irritated with its incompetent master.

  The Princess was not helping either, as she seemed to choose her path in a haphazard fashion and derived some insidious pleasure from changing their course into increasingly thick forested areas. Low bridging branches nearly unhorsed Kaell more than once, and his cheeks stung from twigs that swatted him like switches. He was not born with that knack of swerving with a certain anticipation and he was in wonderment that the Princess showed not a single mark. There was not even a hint that her clothes got snagged on a bush somewhere.

  He got all the more anxious, hoping that the Princess knew the way back; he certainly didn't. They came to a glade and stopped, for which Kaell was incredibly grateful. He was more out of breath than his horse.

  ‘I win,’ said Shala airily with a smile.

  ‘I was unaware that we were racing Your Highness,’ said Kaell breathlessly, ‘but then I should probably have realized it. Although in my defence even if I could overtake you I would have had no idea of where to ride, since you pick the course...’

  Shala frowned. ‘Did you fall from your horse Kaell?’ she asked, seeing he was more haggard than he should be, his previously clean shirt having the faint rub-off of wild grass and dirt.’

  ‘Only once Highness. Bloody beast's fault, stopping when it shouldn't.’

  ‘Are you okay then?’ she asked with an uncertain laugh.

  ‘Of course Highness, luckily I broke most of the fall with my face. I had to run to catch up again to the horse after I fell, which is why I am a little more than spent.’

  Shala burst out laughing, bringing her hand to her mouth as though to cram the mirth back inside.

  Kaell smiled. ‘It's good to see you laugh again Highness. The castle would be better off if they could hear what I hear.’

  Shala looked kindly onto Kaell. ‘I'm more at ease out here Kaell. The castle has become a morbid place.’

  ‘Where is this?’ asked Kaell, noticing a dramatic change in the forest structure.

  ‘I told you, I often come here, this is as close as the Druids come to Attoras. They don't like cities you know.’

  Kaell took a good look about him. ‘So this is the boundary of the Grove?’

  ‘Yes, they keep the forests and maintain the balance of nature.’

  ‘Are we to meet someone here?’

  ‘No silly. Most of the Druids sleep and Metrus sees to all of Norwain. It is almost impossible to track him down. My father had some special way of finding him, but for the rest of us it is a matter of waiting for him to make contact.’

  ‘A strange man,’ said Kaell.

  ‘A good man,�
�� corrected Shala.

  For a moment they stood in silence, looking up at the wall of trees, silent sentinels that had stood here years beyond counting, their roots so thick and overlaid that from thereon no horse regiment or marching army could pierce further into the Grove. Nothing stirred here, except for the most indistinct breeze, barely swaying the topmost branches. Although Kaell by chance did spot a squirrel, the creature chased on by the haste of its kind, as though it stole through a place where it knew there would be danger.

  Losing sight of it Kaell only then noticed a searching look on the Princess's features. She was certainly not following the keen little creature with that look. ‘You hope for the chance that Metrus would appear?’ he asked.

  Shala nodded. ‘It is vain I know. This Grove alone covers more than a thousand acres. He could be anywhere. I did not truly expect him to be close. In some ways he knew my father's secrets better than even Naceus. I wish I could show him my father's note, so that he could allay some of my fears.’

  ‘What is it that you fear so Highness?’ asked Kaell.

  Shala did not answer, even when it seemed that she wanted to. Rather she said, ‘Swarztial wants this section of forest levelled so that the town may expand. I couldn't let that happen, not when we count on the Druids as allies. I couldn't...’

  Kaell understood her conflict. The council was using her alliance with the Druids as a means to alienate her from her own people.

  ‘The forest here seems to slumber... did you say Druids sleep? All the time?’

  ‘Most of the time,’ said Shala smiling, ‘don't worry, I don't understand it too well either. “They dream,” is what Metrus said, and I know there is power in what they do.’

  Kaell nodded. ‘Is it... is that anything like the Benevolence?’ he asked hesitatingly.

  ‘I would say yes, although I'm not any kind of authority on the subject matter. In the Crimson City they have a great vault in which He slumbers for all eternity. He dreams of the world and so He sees everything, hears everything. Where He sees fit he bestows mercy, and sometimes He takes away. He took away from me Kaell.’

  Yes, a father, a mother and even a baby brother. Kaell did not want her to grow sombre again and so sought to change the subject. But what could he possibly say after speaking of the Benevolence and lost loved ones?

  She continued. ‘They say that we've been living in an era of isolation, that since the Benevolence walks Angaria no longer the divide between a hard world and the wonders of magic is growing. Nations have become strangers to each other and the Starwall has come to divide the world. They say even the stars are not as bright as they used to be, as though they too are in retreat.’

  Shala looked up questioningly at Kaell as he smirked, and she saw him putting up his bravest smile for her sake. ‘If the stars have been running away from other places then they are with the skies of Attoras now. They are bright especially of late. I see a crown of stars from the castle windows, as good an omen as one gets before a queen is coronated.’

  Shala smiled broadly at the notion that Kaell had discovered that corner of the sky by himself. ‘That omen as you call it does not belong to me alone, maybe I'll tell you what it really means someday.’

  ‘Will that be soon Highness?’

  ‘Might be sooner than you think. Although it depends largely on your continued friendship, despite what omens you see in the sky I might soon be without a castle and you serving a King from Rostrad. We might be far removed from each other.’

  Kaell shook his head. ‘I have no qualms that both I and others would not see eye to eye with a ruler other than yourself, Highness. Particularly this Patrick everyone is speaking off.’

  ‘You'd follow me in exile?’ asked Shala in disbelief.

  ‘I'm here now am I not?’ said Kaell.

  That was enough to bring a brief look of satisfaction over her face.

  ‘How about your parents, Kaell? Are they of Attoras?’

  ‘I'm one of life's many orphans, Highness. There's plenty of us to go around,’ said Kaell with bleak humour.

  Shala shook her head. ‘That's enough of a break for now, let's head back before the day grows too late. We have to buy those kitchen supplies anyhow.’

  ‘I thought the kitchen supplies were a charade?’ asked Kaell as they mounted.

  ‘They are, but how do you suppose we explain returning empty-handed to the guards at the gate?’ asked Shala.

  ‘Point taken Your Highness,’ said Kaell, although he was rather certain the Princess wanted an excuse to roam about town, which is exactly what they did the moment they returned.

  With the horses locked up in the stables again Shala eagerly took to the streets, Kaell following in her wake and monitoring the sun's progress. He had the day off, but those who knew the Princess would grow worried for her being locked up in her room the whole day. I hope Erika knows how to deal with deBella with a straight face.

  Not for the first time Kaell was impressed by the Princess’ manner. Not for a moment did she take her nobleness with her out on the streets. Even hidden in her brown robe she always looked like a pretty thing, but there was nothing to suggest she was coming from the castle. When she talked she was polite and humble, and her voice almost a bit nasal to mask her royal origins.

  Moving from shop to shop she’d walk at Kaell’s right and usually a step behind him, to complete the illusion that she was truly his assistant. Of course it was still she that decided where they would go.

  After passing the bakery, its pleasant smells still following them, they turned into a street that they maybe should have avoided. The pillories were lined here, men who had deserted the King’s garrison to the north-east of Attoras locked up in wooden stocks, their hands and heads pitifully exposed to public abuse.

  Shala and Kaell knew their crime because of the town crier, bellowing their misdeeds for all to be heard, his fervour often inspiring the odd passerby to throw all sorts of produce at the men held in stocks.

  ‘What a waste,’ said Kaell looking at tomatoes and cabbages splattering against the wood.

  Kaell wanted to rush them through this street as fast as possible, but the Princess kept lingering, as though intrigued by the men who had forgone their duty to the King. Kaell was worried about how riled up a mob could get in settings like these and with the crowd in the street growing he was certain they would find trouble sooner rather than later.

  ‘Let's keep moving Princess, I will bake anything of your heart's desire if we can get through this day without trouble,’ he urged in a whisper and pressed her gently in the small of her back in a move that was a bit uncharacteristic for the timid cook.

  Glad to be out of harm's way, they browsed shops with kitchen utensils, but before Shala could buy something Kaell stopped her, saying he would rather not arrive at the castle with a clatter of pots and try and explain to Master Jalson why he brought home unnecessary cooking gear. ‘Let's go to the spice shop. We can buy something to show the guards and it's easier for me to stash away in the storage once we're in the castle. No one will think twice about spare spices.’

  Shala wholeheartedly agreed.

  Kaell could not have known, but it was their stop at the spice shop that would be disastrous.

  ‘Halt cook!’

  Kaell turned with a grimace. They were already leaving and up till now they had avoided any unnecessary contact. The big bearded owner of the shop walked up to him, his belly swaying side to side, and held up a coin he had just taken from Kaell. ‘How fool are you to walk around buying with marked silver? Buying with King’s stash?’

  Shala’s eyes widened where she stood, Kaell hoping this suspicious lug of a man had not seen it. Luckily he seemed very much focused on Kaell.

  ‘Fool enough that it is the only money I buy with, since I come from the castle, and I’m here on their behest, buying their supplies.’ Since the man had noticed it would be folly for Kaell to deny otherwise.

  ‘Ah, so you are on a cas
tle errand. You had at least thought this story through, eh? Hmm, it’s a nice opportunity wouldn’t you say, buying with marked silver?’

  ‘I’m afraid I do not follow sir,’ said Kaell.

  ‘I see trouble the minute it enters my street cook, if you really are a cook and if you really do come from the castle. I have never seen you come to my shop and I know the lads that visit on the castle's behalf.’

  ‘He is indisposed, so I came in his place,’ lied Kaell.

  The shopkeeper did not budge, looking at Kaell as though he was going to spill his true origins given enough inspection.

  ‘State your case,’ said Kaell in annoyance.

  ‘You buy supplies, yet you bring along a skinny girl in a big voluminous coat, now for what use can that be I wonder? But I know your game, from to shop to shop you buy with marked silver, the merchants grinning from ear to ear because it is good untainted money that doesn’t crumble in the hand, and your lady friend here browses at the back of a happy merchant, taking a look and a feel at this and that, but never putting back. And where might you have gotten the money really? Is it a nobleman drifting face down in the canal that can answer that, or is the poor man still alive? Either way, they reward handsomely these days for taking criminals to the castle.’

  Kaell froze and Shala tugged at him to run. This was a mistake, this entire expedition and the shopkeeper's foolish notions. The shopkeeper grabbed her wrist and pulled her in close with one burly arm. She gasped and Kaell’s hands were in his hair, helpless as he was. If the man could but know who he was touching...

  ‘What might I find if I rummaged through her many pockets? Come here girl,’ said the man as he wrenched her arm upright so that she was strung up like a fish on a line. Shala had the mind not to scream, but she could not do anything better either. Suddenly Kaell was between them and Shala could barely register what was happening, the look of the shop owner as surprised as she was, standing paralyzed with a knife to his throat, his hand still clasped on Shala's wrist.

  ‘Unhand her,’ quivered Kaell's voice, standing in close to the man, holding the knife to the jugular. The man stood more upright, he did not release Shala but neither was he keeping her on her toes anymore.

  Shala had not seen it, but Kaell had swept in and stolen the knife she had hidden in her coat as deft as the pickpocket he was being accused for, and then turned on the shopkeeper.

  ‘You don't have the stomach,’ the man grumbled, although clearly nervous, feeling the prick of the blade.

  ‘No I don't,’ agreed Kaell, ‘but these royal kitchen knives cut through bone and sinew effortlessly, and I need only slip my hand to open a wound that not even the infirmary is going to save you from.’

  ‘Murderous,’ the man stuttered, his forehead beaded with sweat now. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘We are not criminals sir, and don't cause us to become such, now let her go,’ said Kaell.

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ the man said, releasing the Princess and retreating with his back turned on them, by the look of it closing his shop for the day.

  Kaell and the Princess stalked away quickly, not talking before they were well away from the shop, the sight of the castle gates bringing back some colour to the Princess' face.

  ‘You have a sharp mind on you Kaell, you just saved us from much trouble. That was very brave.’

  ‘No Highness, brave is facing Master Gremhalden's caning with a straight face - we shouldn't have come here, I should not have allowed you to leave the castle!’

  ‘Allow me?’ asked the Princess in amusement.

  ‘Might be that I could drag Your Highness down before going on an uncalled for adventure. I might still get caned for the act, but at least you will be alive afterwards.’

  ‘Your care is touching Kaell,’ said Shala sweetly.

  ‘Yes Highness, but I was thinking that I would rather have your healing hands ready, for my back and thighs anyhow. Master Gremhalden can throw three daggers at fifteen yards into the backrest of a chair within a grouping of two inches, but for some reason when he picks up the rod he hacks away at us like a blind woodsman.’

  The Princess laughed, the excitement of what had happened making her mirth sound giddy. ‘You have had many of these canings before?’

  ‘Only once Highness, and I'm unlikely to forget it. Marc of the kitchen has come to call Gremhalden lightning, for he never manages to strike twice on the same spot. Poor fellow gets caned so much for his mischief he looks like a zebra neck down on the backside.’

  ‘Then you will have my healing hands available when next you suffer a caning,’ said the Princess, still in the throes of laughter.

  ‘Thank you Your Highness, but I would rather avoid it altogether. Sure makes for an exciting day, it isn't often that I hope to find sanctuary in Master Jalson's kitchen.’

  ‘Hmm, I can't believe that man didn't recognize me,’ said Shala.

  ‘People see what they want to see, and he had already made his mind up about the two of us. Besides Highness, good ruler or no, your face is unfamiliar to most in Attoras.’

  The Princess frowned. ‘That is a pity. People should at least know the face that commands them.’

  ‘It is also good Highness. I know of rulers who have lookalikes play the imposter to confuse potential enemies.’

  ‘I need such an imposter if only to deal with the dreariness of council meetings,’ said Shala, the idea appealing to her.

  With some hope on Kaell's part they made it back through the postern gate without any hindrance, only to find deBella waiting for them at the steps of the front doors to the castle, her arms crossed and her gaze trained on their approach. Erika had obviously faltered under deBella's suspicions.

  Even at this distance Kaell could see she had a mighty scorn on her face, and he groaned, knowing she would have recognized the two of them even in the dark. ‘What are you moaning about, it's only deBella,’ said the Princess.

  ‘Yes Highness, but unlike Gremhalden the handmaiden holds a grudge even against the least of us, and she has some strange sway over the guard. Expect me to come for your healing hands quite soon,’ lamented Kaell.

  Shala did not answer or appear to have heard, as she too floundered under deBella's stony look, her own conscious calling her guilty beyond a doubt before she could fathom any worthwhile excuse.

  IV

  On the day of the burial the bells were tolling, twelve rings on every hour for three hours. Those admitted past the arches and into the catacombs flocked solemnly down steps neglected, the tomb of kings offering the quiet chill of stone set under the surface. The ceremony itself took place here, the entrance of the underground fashioned as a basilica, its many hallways leaking into the corridors of the long dead.

  Shala found the place inherently morbid, with no windows to provide natural lighting and the scant furnishings leaving it looking bare. Even considering herself devout she came here not too often. One day, provided we have space, we will build a real church above ground, Shala decided.

  Upon entering she became self-conscious of her clothes. More specifically, she wore a hairnet set with gemstones, an heirloom from her mother's side and so a very sentimental piece to wear. She did however wonder if doing so was a mistake, as the splendour of the many diamonds drew attention to her on a day that she'd rather go unnoticed.

  The most prominent of the realm were in attendance and they had come out in numbers, some from very far. Many of those were truly sympathetic, while others were here simply to show their faces, so as not to be discounted for the future furnishings of the kingdom. Of course only few of them were delusional enough to think they could take the throne or be close to it. Rather, with new rule, they'd hope to procure more favourable positions and maybe new landownership, and there would be no chance of that if they stayed holed up far away in Nortalon, Rostrad or the Estermarch.

  Before the ceremony could start Shala had a look about the place, wishing to stand by those who knew her father best. But sh
e saw nothing of Scholar Naceus, having thought his short frame hidden somewhere behind someone tall.

  It wasn't long before she realized he was not in attendance at all. Shala walked determinedly towards Swarztial, where he was seemingly clustered among members of the council of the same persuasion. Even before she could approach the man deeply angered her, as a passerby elicited some reaction from him, and he made another false show of grief for the King.

  ‘Yes Princess, how may I be of service?’ he enquired, as though he remembered nothing of their previous clashes, as though there was any kind of lasting civility between the two of them.

  ‘Where might Scholar Naceus be?’ asked Shala.

  ‘Highness, he is not royalty and does not own a place close to the king, why should he be here?’ asked Swarztial, sweeping the beret from his head.

  ‘You denied him entry! He was my father’s closest friend!’ hissed Shala.

  ‘Kings don’t have friends, Princess, they have subjects, and all subjects have their place. Scholar Naceus’ place is not here, not with this occasion.’

  A hundred different retorts got caught up in Shala's throat. She stalked away angrily. This was not the place to make a scene. Soon however her frustration melted away. The songs had started.

  A choir of townsfolk attended, aged young and old, the lot of them dressed in white shifts and they occupied the tiered benches where they were stacked in a fashion Dieral the Ceremonies Master had arranged. In the confines of the underground their voices rang a pure note and seemed to drag an angelic presence within the place for the moment. The song was sombre however, and had mourning in it more than hope.

  It was deserving praise for her father Shala knew, but the touch of the song found some unattended strings of grief within, and tugged at them, their effect resounding and had the Princess powerless to tears. But she did not weep, even when that was the impulse. deBella periodically wiped her stony face, but Shala pushed her hand away after awhile. The look deBella gave her asked her why she was being so stubborn against showing her sorrow.

  The Benevolence knows I cry enough at night deBella, but I can't appear to be an incompetent wench in front of all these men,’ thought Shala, hoping the handmaiden could understand.

  The service was held, where many men spoke of Shala’s father, and read him rites of all kinds, and some spoke eulogies. The Bishop Jaegosh, being in attendance also spoke, ‘May the Benevolence light your path to the life hereafter,’ he had finished. Shala took a last long look at her father where he lay on a slab of stone, the sarcophagus rolled to his side, the lid taken off at this time.

  The spell that she had put on her father still held, and would hold for a long time afterwards. It was pointless now however, save for the effect it had on the body, giving it an aura of peace and serenity, his skin still pearly. He was put in the sarcophagus with a sword, the enclosure a grand design of granite and the inside lined with white cushions as though the dead would need comfort.

  More incense was lit, its smoky product now suffocating the underground air, and Shala felt more tears on her cheeks as the heavy stone lid was slid closed over the King. No pilgrimage, no Dream of Embers. The King would be put away forever. Soon enough the spell would fade and his spirit released from flesh and stone. He would move on.

  The lid itself was carved spectacularly in the image of the old King, a crown on his head, his clothes richly detailed, him laying on his back, with a sword in his hands running down to his toes. The sword was the stone image of Erenciel. No man has ever owned that sword as much as my father, thought Shala. Had it not been for cold anger she would have spilled her heart, and had it not been for all these stony faced people she would have rolled the sarcophagus to its final place herself and stayed there crying, until she could bear it to finally leave him behind.

  But her face remained passive save for the red in her eyes, and some moist on her cheeks. Soon the sarcophagus was rolled into one of the halls leading out of the central chamber, out of sight. Shala willed herself into the cold, her imagination providing the icy water that would envelope her. She did it to cut her emotion short, because Swarztial would come to prey on it, and she had no intention of her father’s kingdom falling to this man or any other who had come to Attoras on this day.