“Almost there, my prince.”
Danly’s neck prickled with warning but it was too late to stop. He reached the bottom and found the passageway opened onto the stage of an underground amphitheater.
“This way, my prince.”
A hand at his back urged him forward. A ten-foot wall surrounded the central pit with tiered seats rising into shadows. Blood-soaked straw littered the stone floor, crunching beneath his boots. He’d heard rumors of such places, secret arenas used for illegal cock and bullfights. The wealthy of Pellanor always found a way to take their pleasures, regardless of the law.
A brooding silence cloaked the amphitheater…but the tiered seats were not empty. Figures cloaked in red capes and hooded masks crowded the gallery. In the dim light, it was difficult to tell how many watched from above; spectators come for a different sort of sport. Danly hesitated, feeling the weight of so many cold stares.
His guide gestured toward a throne carved of dark wood waiting in the center of the bloodstained ring. A sudden panic seized Danly, cold sweat beading his brow. Pungent smells of blood and death made him wonder if he was being led to a throne or an altar of sacrifice. Danly mastered the grim thoughts, reminding himself of how much he wanted the crown. Holding his head high, he strode like a king to the center of the arena. Refusing to sit on a throne in the coarse wool cape of a peasant, he untied the garment and let it fall to the ground. Claiming the throne, he assumed a regal pose, staring defiantly up at the gallery of watchers.
The silence built to an oppressive weight.
A clicking sound emerged from the side passageway. A tall hooded man in red strode into the arena. Bearing a gilded staff carved to resemble the long horn of a unicorn, he walked across the combat ring to stand beside the throne. Even cloaked and masked, the man had a presence about him. Pounding the iron-shod staff on the stone floor, his voice filled the arena. “We welcome our prince to the company of the Red Horns.”
Recognizing the deep voice, Danly relaxed.
“Our prince has come to see for himself that the Red Horns are much more than shadows and innuendo.” He gestured toward the stands. “Every man here holds considerable wealth and power. And every man has sworn an oath to restore a rightful king to the Rose Throne. In the presence of the Red Horns, I ask you, Danly of house Tandroth, will you be that king?”
Staring up into the gallery of red, Danly wondered if this stage play was for his benefit or the men seated in the stands. Either way, he was impressed. If the rest of the masked men were half as powerful as their leader, then the prince had an excellent chance of gaining the throne. Still, it was a dangerous game. Caution was advisable. Pitching his voice to fill the amphitheater, the prince replied, “In this gallery of wealth and power, only one man dares to show his face. With such an open display of bravery, why should I believe the Red Horns are capable of winning the Rose Throne?”
A rumble of anger rippled through the gallery. The leader struck the floor with butt of his staff, regaining control. “My prince, you mistake caution for cowardice.” His angry tone carried a rebuke. “We risk death to challenge the Spider Queen. We cannot be too cautious.”
An expectant hush filled the amphitheater.
“If you sense anger, my prince, it is because these men dare to risk everything to see you on the Rose Throne. They will not let you risk their lives needlessly. Your clumsy request for a seat on the queen’s council has only served to raise the suspicions of the monarch. Instead of looking outward for threats from other kingdoms, the Spider Queen now focuses her attention on Lanverness. Even her royal son is not above suspicion. Elaborate precautions were required for this meeting.” The leader lowered his voice, “My prince, you are being watched by the queen’s shadowmen.”
A lance of fear pierced the prince, threatening to turn his bowels to liquid. Danly’s gaze darting nervously across the gallery. He’d never suspected his mother would set her shadowmen on one of her own sons…and all because he’d asked to sit on her council. Truly, the woman’s ruthlessness knew no bounds. Danly had barely reached for the crown and already the game turned deadly. “I was unaware of the shadowmen.” Surprised by the steadiness of his voice, he continued, “I concede that your elaborate precautions are both necessary and wise. I will do all that I can to protect the secrecy of the Red Horns…but it would help if I understood your plan.”
The red-cloaked leader spoke with the voice of an orator. “One slip of the tongue can foil the best rebellion. The details of the plan must remain a closely guarded secret, but I can tell you this, we plan to seize the crown and hold it. While we gather the required swords, other plots are underway. The Spider Queen is far too popular with the common people. To keep the throne we must turn the commoners against the queen. The people must hail their new king as a savior to the queen’s blatant misuse of power.”
The prince stared at the leader, appalled by his regard for the common people. “The people do not matter! Power resides in gold, in the steel of swords, and in the authority of the throne. You waste your time worrying about the common people.”
“Not so, my prince. Lanverness is a populous kingdom with a small army. If the people revolt there would not be enough swords to contain them.” Shaking his head, the leader said, “Our way is best. We will take the throne by force and keep it by guile.”
Danly was not convinced, but he was curious about their plan. “The kingdom is at peace, taxation is reasonable, and businessmen and farmers both prosper. With such plenty, how will you turn the people against the queen?”
“A shrewd question, my prince. The Spider Queen has a reputation for being tight with a copper. We will turn that reputation against her.”
Puzzled, the prince replied, “I don’t understand.”
The leader turned to address the men in the gallery. “Our plan is a complex puzzle, with each person knowing only a single part. The whole will not be revealed until all the pieces are in place. We must each play our part, using stealth, caution and guile to avoid detection by the queen’s shadowmen.” Turning back to the prince, the leader said, “Will you, Prince Danly of the house of Tandroth, be our king?”
Danly considered the question. These men were shrewd and well organized, offering his best chance to win the crown. Rising, he made his voice solemn, like an oath before the gods. “The blood of the kings of Lanverness runs in my veins. I will align myself with the Red Horns. Together we will take the Rose Throne from the Spider Queen!”
Male voices took up a slow chant, “A king!...A king!…A king!” like a rumble of thunder.
The power of the chant was seductive. It thrummed through Danly’s veins like the lure of destiny.
A hand rested on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. The red-cloaked leader leaned close. “You have done well, my prince, but now it is time to go. Let me walk you to the door.”
The prince acknowledged the chanting crowd with a wave and then fell into step with the leader. The two men exited the amphitheater, the rhythmic chant echoing behind. The leader turned to the prince and said, “Now you are truly one of us. For the sake of secrecy, you must not deviate in anyway from your normal routine.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Remember, the queen’s shadowmen are already watching you. Do you understand?”
The allure of the crown outweighed his fear…at least for the moment. “Yes, but when will I meet with you again?”
“Spend the dark of every moon at Madam Stock’s bordello. Ask for the same suite of rooms and spend the evening with any girl that pleases you. When the night grows late, one of us will come to you via the secret staircase.” Reaching into his robe, he handed Danly a slip of parchment. “This is the name of a discreet alchemist in the west side of the city. Valquist makes an excellent sleeping potion. Use it to drug the courtesans when you are finished. At midnight, one of us will come to you in the outer sitting room.” Pausing he added, “If we need to meet for any other reason, we will contact you. Be vigilant and look for the sign o
f the Red Horn. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Remember, when you see me at court, treat me in the same way as you did before. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
With a bow, the leader said, “I will leave you now. Be quick to enter the carriage. Hugo will see you safely back to the bordello. Stay safe, my prince. The Red Horns await the day when we will hail you as our rightful king.” With a second bow, the leader turned and walked back down the passageway.
A short time later, the double doors were thrown open and the prince raced up the stairs into the waiting carriage. His original guide joined him; only this time the man wore simple boiled leathers under a dark wool cape. “Hugo, I presume?”
The burly man grinned. “At your service, majesty. Sorry for the secrecy earlier. We’ll soon have you back to the bordello. The girl waits for you in the bedroom. Have your fun with her and no one will be the wiser.” He handed the prince a small glass vial. “This is for the girl. Mix it with some wine. It will muddle her memory of the evening.”
Palming the vial, Danly considered the events of the night. The Red Horns had exceeded his expectations, the chant from the amphitheater pounding though his mind. He grew hard just thinking about it, till his need was nearly unbearable. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be king. Truly power was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.
42
Blaine
Like a beacon in the dark, the distant campfire drew the knights along the lip of the gorge. Abandoning their horses, they advanced on foot. After four frustrating days of finding nothing but cold campfires, the quarry was finally within reach. Pitch-dark with only a thin crescent moon, the night was perfect for an ambush. The knights unsheathed their steel, circling the campfire. Blaine yearned for a fight, keen to redeem himself.
The twang of a bowstring broke the silence.
An arrow thunked into a pine tree, narrowly missing Blaine’s head. Startled, Blaine dove behind a boulder. He peered into the darkness, but he saw no sign of the archer. In the pitch dark, the arrow must have been a lucky shot. Regardless, the element of surprise was lost. The knights had a fight on their hands.
A stranger called from the darkness. “I respect your swords but you have no need of them. The girl is safe. Declare yourselves and come in peace.”
Blaine considered rushing the archer but Captain Tellor’s reply stayed him. “We are knights of the Octagon and we have you surrounded. Stand down and surrender the girl.”
The voice replied, “The princess awaits her escort. She sleeps by the campfire, exhausted by her ordeal. Sheathe your swords and I will join you at the camp. We are allies not enemies.”
Blaine tightened his grip on his sword, refusing to be seduced by lies.
Captain Tellor’s voice rang through the night. “Advance with drawn steel, we’ll see for ourselves if the princess is safe.”
Blaine crabbed sideways trying to get out of the archer’s line of fire. Keeping low, he dashed for the campfire, risking an arrow in the back. The archer held his fire and Blaine broke through the scrub into the circle of light. At first he thought the campfire was deserted, but then he spied a tousled blonde head asleep on one of the bedrolls. Joy leapt through him but he held his silence. Aware that the camp could be nothing more than an elaborate ambush, Blaine stood guard over the princess, his gaze roaming the edge of the forest. Other knights stepped into the clearing. With military precision, they formed a defensive ring around the princess. Receiving a nod from the captain, Blaine knelt to give the girl a gentle touch.
The princess did not move. A cold pit of fear seized Blaine’s stomach. He shook her hard. Sea green eyes, dazed from sleep, gazed up at him. A tentative hand reached out to grasp his mail-covered arm. “I knew you’d come.”
The conviction in her words struck at Blaine’s heart. There was no anger or accusation, only a steadfast belief in him. He vowed to never fail her again. Fumbling for words, he gestured to the others. “We all came for you. Forgive us for taking so long.”
Kath stared at the circle of knights. “The ones who kidnapped me are dead, you can stand down now.” Her voice carried a surety he’d never heard before.
Captain Tellor gestured for the knights to hold their position. “Archers hide in the forest. We stand guard against an ambush.”
Kath shrugged off the blanket and rose, her hand resting on the hilt of a strange sword. “The archer is a friend. He helped me defeat the Dark Lord’s men. Put your swords away. There are no enemies here.”
Blaine stared as if pole-axed, ambushed by the tone of command in her voice.
Captain Tellor was slow to sheathe his sword. He turned to face the princess and gaped in astonishment. Blaine understood his reaction. Her long golden hair was hopelessly tangled and her tunic was covered in dirt and grime yet she stood proud with her hand on the hilt of a captured sword. The knights had come to rescue a young girl and found a triumphant warrior-princess instead.
The captain scowled. “We failed once with our lack of vigilance. We’ll not fail again.”
She gave him a weary smile. “We were all caught off guard by the Dark Lord’s men. What matters is that you came. Tell the men to sheathe their swords and to stand down. There are no enemies here. The archer in the forest is my friend. He has earned the gratitude of Castlegard.”
With a reluctant nod, the captain ordered the men to stand down. The knights sheathed their swords and surrounded the princess. She had kind words for each of them. When the first round of greetings was done, the captain stepped in to take charge, dispatching the two squires to retrieve the horses. Sir Kirk was assigned guard duty and the big smith was asked to gather more wood for the fire. The knights began to make camp while Blaine hovered at Kath’s side.
A lone figure stepped into the firelight. Dressed in simple hunting leathers, the archer deliberately unstrung his longbow. In the reflected firelight, his eyes glowed like a pair of twin lanterns.
Blaine hissed at the demon-bright eyes. Swords sprang from scabbards as the knights turned on the stranger.
The princess leaped in front of the archer. “Stop!” Her command froze the knights. “This is my friend, Jorah Silvenwood. Without his help, I would have died at the hands of the Dark Lord’s men. He is welcome at our camp.”
Blaine stood the closest to the cat-eyed man. As a young boy, he’d heard tales of cat-eyed demons stealing children in the dark of the night but he always assumed the stories were nothing more than old wives’ tales. Now the stuff of his childhood nightmares stood at the edge of the campfire. Eyes glowing golden in the firelight, the archer seemed like a creature of evil…yet the princess stood by his side. Blaine wrestled with his nightmares but logic held sway. If the princess vouched for the cat-eyed man then that was good enough for him.
Blaine sheathed his sword and stepped forward, offering his hand in friendship. “If you’ve truly saved the princess then I owe you a life-debt.”
The other knights hovered close, naked steel gleaming in the firelight.
When the two men clasp hands, the tension melted away. The other knights sheathed their swords and came forward to meet the stranger. Introductions were made and they soon found themselves sitting around the campfire, sharing a flagon of ale and swapping stories about the past few days.
The knights clamored for a tale of the kidnapping. The princess recounted her ordeal in a flat voice devoid of emotion. She explained about the goblin-man and the Isle of Souls. She told how the ogre carried her off in the middle of the night, deep into the forest. How her captors kept her bound and gagged. How she did her best to mark a trail, always watching for a chance to escape. She showed them the knife hidden in her boot and explained how she forced herself to wait for the right moment.
When it came to the tale of her escape, her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. The knights sat spellbound. In measured tones, she recounted the fight in the meadow and aid of the archer. When the telling was done, t
he princess displayed the crude medallion bearing the sign of the Mordant.
Blaine stared at the medallion, stunned by the tale.
Anger, shock, and pride warred across the faces of the other knights. Blaine shared their feelings, enraged at the treatment of the princess and shocked that the Mordant had stretched his hand so deeply into the southern kingdoms, but most of all, he was proud of Kath. She was truly a princess of Castlegard. Passing a flagon of ale, they toasted her victory. She was a blooded warrior! Their princess had killed an ogre in her first battle! This was the stuff of legends.
As the ale flowed, the knights asked the princess to repeat the tale till every detail was memorized. They hailed the cat-eyed archer as a hero, pressing him to tell his version. By the third telling, the knights were clapping the cat-eyed archer on the back, claiming him as an honorary brother-in-arms. Before the night was done, more than one oath of friendship was sworn around the blazing fire.
When the ale finally ran out and exhaustion caught up with them, the companions crawled into their bedrolls. They all slept save one.
Blaine stood guard beside the princess. In the quiet of the night, he thought about the tale of her escape. Truly, Valin had marked the girl for one of his own…but in his heart, he wondered why the gods would bestow their favor on a mere girl.
43
Liandra
The queen stood at the casement window, looking down on the architectural splendors of Castle Tandroth. The view was impressive but her thoughts were turned inward. Having the lion tabard of Coronth walk into her audience chamber had been a shock, like a ghost resurrected from the past. Liandra paced a path across the carpet, searching for deeper answers. The Lions of Coronth were said to be dead, all butchered by the Pontifax and his gruesome Flame God. With the extermination of Coronth’s ruling house, the emblem of the golden lion fell into disuse. The sudden re-appearance seemed like an omen. But was the return of the lion merely a ghostly reminder of the past, or did it herald the re-birth of a once proud house? Or could it be a warning to the people of Lanverness…a warning that religions seldom respect political borders. Coronth’s nightmares could easily spill over into Lanverness.
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 28
