Kingshold

by D P Woolliscroft

  “This is outrageous! You can’t do that,” shrieked Eden. “My lands were granted by the king. Only the king can strip them.”

  “I think you forget yourself, Eden. I was the one who stripped the throne from the king. I suggest you hurry and pack. In twenty-four hours, if you’re still on Edland soil, then the customary bounty will be honored.”

  Eden’s retinue approached him as he gasped for air. One person on either side helped support him before he fell and escorted him out of the throne room, all eyes following them out.

  Jyuth snapped his fingers, and Mareth’s attention jerked back to see the wizard pointing at the corpse of the armored knight on the floor. “Can someone please clean up this mess before tomorrow?”

  Chapter 45

  Goodbyes

  The bed felt the same as she remembered, even though it had been ten years since she last slept in here, since she’d bought her own place in the city, after the palace had become too constricting. But now, waking in her old bed in her father’s apartments made her surprisingly content. Sunlight slanted through the shutters. Was it still evening, or had she slept through to the morning? After the excitement of the throne room, she had made sure Florian was uninjured, and then went to sleep as quickly as she could.

  Climbing out of bed, dressing in the robes she’d worn the prior day, she walked through to the sitting room to see her father at the table, breakfast arrayed before him.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “So, it is morning then. I wasn’t sure.”

  “Well, it’s actually past lunchtime, but we both needed the rest.” He patted the seat next to him. “Come, join me for breakfast.”

  Neenahwi sat and looked at the spread arrayed before her. Yogurt and figs with honey, hard boiled eggs, thick slices of ham, hard cheese, still warm crusty bread, and sliced apples, pears, and peaches. Her stomach told her eyes to stop gawping and get stuck in. She ate with gusto and without a need for either of them to talk. Once they’d eaten their fill, they leaned back in the chairs, drinking tea from delicate cups.

  “Are you really going to leave?” she asked. “It’s all fucked up.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He looked regretful to Neenahwi, but she knew him, maybe knew him better than she knew her brother, and once he made up his mind, he’d follow it through.

  “Maybe I’m the source of the chaos,” he continued. “We’ll only know once I leave. And I’m still tired.”

  “Hah! Tiredness again, old man? You look better than I feel this morning.”

  “That’s different. You have more vitality than me. The things I’ve done over the centuries, they’ve left me threadbare and thin.”

  She looked at him, and for a moment, she saw an old man slumped in the chair, but the familiar facade came back as he smiled a warm smile at her.

  “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow, after the votes are tallied. I’ll slip away during whatever celebrations are planned to happen.”

  He sighed a deep sigh and reached over to take her hand in his. “I’m truly sorry to leave you, Neenahwi. You’ve been one of the few moments of light in my long life. And I’m so proud of you! You’ve grown into a very formidable woman. I don’t need to protect you anymore.” Then the smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of granite. “And I’m sorry for what you’re going to have to face. You can sense it. Tomorrow, when a new lord protector walks into the palace, it’s not going to be the end of the troubles. And Gawl Tegyr won’t be the last to meddle in the affairs of Edland, or to come for you.”

  A blubbery snort erupted from Neenahwi. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Was this goodbye forever or just for a while? One father had been taken from her, and afterward, she’d felt an absence that hadn’t been filled until she’d grown to love this old man. How could she manage without him?

  “Believe in yourself, child.” He embraced her until the sobs slowed, and then wiped her tears with the back of his hand. “Keep Motega close to you, and his friends. I have some gifts for you. Stay here while I go and fetch them.”

  Neenahwi watched her father open a box in the side room that housed the chests of gold he’d been gathering in exchange for pyxies. He took a rectangular leather case, placing it on the ground, and then removed four other items, putting them alongside the other. The first wrapped object he lifted back into the chest, closed the lid, and rose from his knees, holding all of the gifts with some difficulty. He placed them on the table and sat opposite Neenahwi.

  “First is this.” And he handed her a small box made of ebony. It was unadorned and without an obvious way of opening it. “Here, place your hand flat on the lid.” He guided her hand onto the box, and after a few seconds, it clicked, the top rising up a fraction of an inch. “That’ll only work for you, and me, of course. I did have to put what’s inside in there.”

  She lifted the lid off the box, and inside, resting on red velvet, was a pendant on a golden chain. Holding the necklace before her, she saw the delicacy of the work in the chain and the outside of the pendant, vines of roses wrought in gold and silver, twisting as they formed an empty oval. He reached up and turned it to show the rear of the pendant where a sharp silver thorn jutted out.

  “Do you have your demon stone?” he asked her.

  She pulled the red gem from a pouch, and it rested in her palm, the shifting and swirling shades of red visible through the smooth surface. She offered it to him.

  “No, it’s not for me. Insert it into the casing.” She did so, and like a magnet, the stone clicked the final fractions of an inch into place. It looked terrifyingly beautiful. “The spike on the back creates the connection to your blood, the same way it did two nights’ past. But no matter what, don’t wear this all the time.”

  “Thank you so much, Father. It’s beautiful.”

  “Beauty isn’t relevant here, but I do take some pride in my craftsmanship. And you’re welcome. There are two more things.” He handed her a scroll, sealed with wax. “Don’t open this until I’ve gone. Tomorrow night before you sleep should be fine. Promise me.”

  “OK, Father, I promise.”

  “And a final gift for you. These are my journals.” Jyuth placed on the table ten thin, soft, leather-bound books, collected together with a leather strap that looked like an old belt. “Back when I used to keep them. Probably the first fifty years or so of my studies. Maybe there’ll be something useful in there for you.”

  Neenahwi sniffled again. “Thank you, Father. I look forward to reading them.”

  “And here’s one more gift. For Motega.” He undid the wool wrapping to reveal an unstrung, long bow made of a single piece of horn, larger than any she’d seen in the past. “Tell him I love him, too. This is dragon horn. Ancient. I was going to give it to him when he came of age, but didn’t have the chance.”

  The old man drooped. Past failures remembered were such a weight. Neenahwi stood and embraced him once more. It felt good. Comfortable.

  “Ahem.” Jyuth rose to his feet. “Now, let’s not be maudlin. We have one last night together. What shall we do?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Neenahwi knew. “Let’s fly, Father.”

  Chapter 46

  Victory

  Petra’s hand, held in hers, felt reassuring as they walked through the palace grounds. Alana was still uneasy on her feet, and she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to do this without assistance. The past week had been a haze, moments of wakefulness when she ate, only to sleep more, interspersed with vivid dreams she could now just remember as phantoms.

  The last thing she could clearly recall was trying to stop the assassin, and Arloth knows what she was thinking at the time, but apparently it had bought Mareth valuable seconds. And then there was black. A few of Alana’s dreams had remained with her, visions of her mother and father sitting by her bedside, holding her hand and mopping her brow, as well as scenes of vast, unspoiled grasslands where, laughing, she ran barefoot. Was that the nex
t world? Had she come so close to dying?

  This morning, Neenahwi had told her she should stay in bed, but Petra had woken her specifically to receive a letter. A personal invitation from Jyuth, and she didn’t want to miss this occasion.

  The two of them walked through the entrance to the palace and down the long hallway to the throne room, Trypp a step behind them, their volunteer for escort duty. She noticed the staff of the palace going about their business the way only a former servant would, last-minute preparations for the influx of people attending this momentous event. As she passed, they saw her, too. Alana could sense their unvoiced questions of why she was there, dressed like one of her betters, in a gown she knew she had only borrowed that morning.

  Ushers guided them up marble stairs to the gallery. They found an open spot by the wooden railing and looked down at the throne room. Below her, the most important people in the country waited, nobles, priests, merchants, guild masters and, for the first time, the district supervisors, standing in groups, all intently looking forward to the dais at the end of the room.

  Jyuth stood there next to a great black chalkboard, a small, naked pink pyxie sitting on his shoulder like a monkey with the organ grinder. A succession of pops heralded the appearance of a series of tiny demons near the chalkboard. Each, in turn, picked up a small piece of chalk and made a tally mark below the name of a candidate before disappearing. The tiny demons resembled shriveled newborns to her eye, but they stood upright on their sharp-clawed feet, their mouths full of needle-sharp teeth and eyes so much like a cat it gave her the willies. Alana wondered which of the pyxies belonged to the district supervisors, the fruits of their planning and hard work paying off today.

  “Are you sure everyone was able to cast their vote?” she asked Petra.

  “Yes. I’m certain. I told you I was with them when they received their demons from the wizard,” Petra replied. “I must admit, all of the supervisors had never seen as much gold as they handed over today. If it weren’t for Florian, Motega, and Lady Grey’s guards watching over them, I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them would have disappeared. But we promised everyone would get the money back tomorrow, and so, we weren’t going to let anything happen to stop that.” She paused for a moment. “You know, we didn’t give as much thought as to how we would get everyone their money back.”

  “You kept records, didn’t you?”

  “Of course! But there are still thousands of people who’ll be depending on getting their money back.”

  “Don’t worry, Petra.” She smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be there to help tomorrow.”

  Alana looked at the chalkboard and saw the names of the candidates across the top. She noticed Eden’s name was still there, even though he was disqualified. And worse, he had many tallies below his name, less than she’d been projecting just a week back, but still more than two score.

  “Do you see how many votes Eden has?” said Alana. “That’s going to be trouble.”

  “Don’t worry,” said her sister. “Mareth is in the lead. How can he lose now?”

  “She’s right,” said Trypp, who’d been strangely quiet the whole journey. “It’s not going to affect the result today, but the question is how many of those votes were cast before he was exiled. If people still support Eden and voted for him anyway, then it’ll create problems later. I heard he didn’t leave the country right away. He and his retinue were seen heading to his estates in the north yesterday. Is he going to run after packing, or start a fight?”

  She looked at her sister and saw her gazing down at Mareth standing with Lady Grey, and so, let the thought pass. She could see them laughing and smiling, and she knew what Petra was thinking.

  “Don’t worry, Petra. You know he wanted you to be there with him, but you’re up here helping me.” Petra smiled back at her, not commenting on what they both knew was a lie.

  The past four weeks had changed their lives. They’d done things they never expected. They now counted influential people as their friends that they could never have dreamed of, but still, there were limits. Motega and Florian were there with Mareth, but they were formally there as his bodyguards. She and Petra were but commoners, a servant girl and tavern maid, and from the Narrows, at that. Those kind of marks were hard to scrub off.

  The wizard stood silently at the front of the chamber, watching the little demons do their work. The successive pops as the pyxies appeared and disappeared began to slow, the board filling with tally marks. After a few moments, no more of the pink creatures materialized, and Alana saw Jyuth say something to the pyxie on his shoulder. It shook its head. Jyuth nodded before the little monster vanished, too, with a tiny crack.

  Jyuth raised his hands in the air and clapped three times. The murmuring of the crowd ceased.

  “Lords, ladies, and gentlefolk of Kingshold, the tallies are in. I, Jyuth, here at the founding of Edland, certify these results as being true and accurate.” He paused and looked around the chamber, daring anyone to contest the fact. The silence stretched in anticipation. “It’s clear for all to see, the new lord protector of Edland, until the day he dies, is Lord Bollingsmead. Let’s welcome him!” he boomed.

  Throughout the hall, there were cheers and applause, cries of “Victory,” “Bollingsmead,” and “The Bard!” Petra grabbed Alana in a tight hug, squeezing hard until she remembered the wound her sister had recently received.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Petra; don’t worry. No stitches, remember?” Alana replied. “We did it! I can’t believe it!” And Petra held her again, lights dancing at the edge of her vision, caused by the strength of the embrace or her incredulity that this was indeed happening, she wasn’t sure.

  Down below, she could see Mareth swamped by well-wishers. Lady Grey had grabbed his face and kissed him on both cheeks. Mareth and Florian were shaking his hand so hard it seemed like his arm might fall off, while Dolph tried to impose some order around them before the palace guard arrived in more significant numbers. And Mareth accepted it all with a look of bemusement on his face.

  An old man pushed his way through the crowd to try to get close to the new lord protector, calling something inaudible over the din to the palace guards who had now formed a cordon. Eventually, he was face-to-face with Mareth, and they looked silently for a moment into one another’s eyes before the old man embraced him, Mareth looking slightly uncomfortable.

  “Who is that?” asked Petra, also surveying the scene below.

  “I think it’s Lord Bollingsmead. His father.”

  Chapter 47

  Your Nation Calls

  Standing off to the side of the dais, Hoskin listened to Jyuth’s announcement with a combination of relief and resentment. Relief, that in one more day, it would all be over for him. Once Bollingsmead was crowned, or whatever it was they were going to call it—and he wondered what ceremony Percival had settled on—he’d be free of responsibility, at last. Free to be with his books, his writing, and free again to walk in the green hills of his childhood home. But a nagging part of him was also furious that Jyuth hadn’t so much as thanked him for his service this past month. Yes, there had been a few incidents, but they were hardly his fault. He’d like to see what it was going to be like without him.

  The part of him that wanted to be free won the internal battle. Who cared if no one recognized him? Pretty much no one had his whole life, even though he’d supposedly been one of the most powerful men in the kingdom for the past decade. No, it was better to be able to leave without much fanfare. He breathed deeply as he watched the crowds moving to congratulate the new lord protector, realizing he should probably do the same.

  Grimes stepped forward and walked alongside him.

  “Are you well, my lord?” he asked.

  “Yes, Grimes, never better. And how about you?”

  “Nice to not have anybody killing each other today, my lord,” he replied, and then added, “Well, at least not yet.”
<
br />   Hoskin smiled. He’d miss Grimes. And Percival. He wondered whether Percival would come with him and be an aide in his studies, as Grimes cleared a path through to Bollingsmead. Or as he now realized, Bollingsmeads plural, as the son stood with the father; Lady Grey and those two fighters who’d fought off the monster stood close by.

  “Excuse me, my lords, I hope I’m not interrupting this reunion?” Hoskin said as the two men broke from their embrace.

  “Not at all, Lord Hoskin,” replied the younger Bollingsmead.

  “You must be very proud,” Hoskin said to the elder.

  “Over the moon, Lord Chancellor,” he replied in a gruff voice, bristled cheeks quivering. “I always knew he was destined for great things, you know.”

  Hoskin noticed the confused look that passed over the younger’s face, his brow furrowed as he considered what his father had said. Hoskin realized there were probably a great many other things said in the past, which would be quickly forgotten by at least one of these two.

  “And congratulations to you, my lord,” he said to the younger. “You’ll make a fine lord protector. I want to reassure you that I will, of course, do whatever is needed for an orderly transition before I return west.”

  “Return west? What?” said the new lord protector, confusion giving way to surprise and concern.

  “Why, back to my family home, of course. I assume you’ll be looking to put in place your own structures?”

  “You’re leaving? We need to talk more.” The younger Bollingsmead laid his hand on Hoskin’s shoulder. “Don’t rush off anywhere, please. I think you’ve done a great job. I was hoping you might stay around. I have need of people who know what they’re doing.”