by CK Dawn
Ali-Steven thought about his mother and the corners of his mouth curled up. “She is great. And he is pure evil. I can feel them fighting inside me, good versus evil, and I know where it comes from. I’ve often thought of killing myself to eliminate the half that thinks like my father.”
The dwarf reassured him. “No. No. No. I know I seem like a stranger, but I’ve told you it’s my craft to procure knowledge. I know you are a great young man. I know General Horsten and you should hear the way that highly regarded man speaks about you. You will never be like your father. Throughout the past, many men have fallen under their father’s faults and let it crush them. Don’t let that happen. Shed your father’s faults, don’t get buried beneath them. I will help you get to Firstlight Harbor and safely leave Donegal, unless you have a plan to do otherwise.”
Ali-Steven shook his head. “No. I’m leaving this wretched kingdom. Look at me. About a week ago, I was heir to the throne of Donegal and now I’m hiding in the woods.”
“Life can be a humbling experience. Do you have a plan?” the dwarf wondered.
“I’m not completely sure. You seem rather intelligent, why don’t you come with me?”
The little man chuckled. “I am humbled by the kind offer.”
“I’ll make you my Falconer when I come back and conquer what’s rightfully mine,” promised Ali-Steven.
The wizard reminded him, “The problem still exists that once you leave Donegal, you won’t be entirely safe. I’ve been around the world and your family has contacts everywhere. I didn’t tell you the amount earlier, but your father has placed a twenty-five thousand gold fox bounty on you.”
Ali-Steven said, “He was shouting about that bounty to his guards as I was trying to save my wife. I think those were the last words I heard from his mouth.”
The dwarf continued, “Not exactly a heartwarming farewell. News spreads a bit slower over the seas, but it eventually leaks into every viable kingdom or empire. Word will get around about the bounty and a lengthy physical description of your appearance will circulate too. The best thing you could do is alter your looks to avoid detection. I do have a sharp blade and steady hand if you would like to remove the most identifiable feature you have.”
Ali-Steven wasn’t sure what feature the dwarf was referring to and stared into his fiery eyes.
“Your hair, I’ll shave away that bright red hair.” The dwarf flashed a smile.
He breathed a sigh of relief and replied, “I suppose that’s a good idea, but how will I look?”
The Imp pushed another little log onto the fire. “There’s no need to worry about an ill-looking appearance because this is about how you won’t look. You won’t look like Ali-Steven Wamhoff, former prince and heir to Donegal. You won’t look like a man who has an enormous bounty on his head. Will that be good enough?”
He realized the older man was right. A voice in the distance whispered, “Dragon-Eyes.”
Ali-Steven sprang up and drew his sword.
The dwarf said, “No, stop.” He looked over his shoulder. “Yes. It’s me. Come on over.”
Ali-Steven saw a woman who got better looking with every closing step. She didn’t look like Rilah but his thoughts shifted to his dead wife.
The dwarf said, “This is my friend, Gamelda. Gamelda, this is…”
She spoke in a soothing tone, “I know who this young man is.” She sidled up next to Ali-Steven and warmed her hands up near the fire. He looked at her and wondered why her hands would be cold.
The dark-skinned beauty had braided black hair that hung to her knees. Her haunting green eyes and an emerald jewel on her forehead gave the woman a magical look. The huge gem seemed to be held in place without a metal band or silk ties. The confusing object mesmerized Ali-Steven.
She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers and said, “Pure cruelty will never die, but innocent decency always will. Stay strong, brave warrior.”
He stared into her eyes, twinkling from the moon and firelight.
He uttered, “Thank you.” Ali-Steven turned to the dwarf and asked, “If I remove my hair, will you two come with me?”
Dragon-Eyes slowly shook his head. “That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I don’t believe you have many dwarf friends, so I’ll let you in on a little secret. Everyone stares at us, and that’s if they are being nice. Most people point, gasp and then start whispering, especially children. People stare at Gamelda as well, just for different reasons. Men look for obvious reasons and women mostly out of jealousy. This would place many more eyes leering in your direction and increase the chance of being found by your father’s men or a bounty seeker. The only way we could join you on your journey would be if something completely altered your appearance. I’m fairly certain you don’t want to do that, do you?”
Ali-Steven thought for a moment. “I’ll have to think about that.”
“Well, I blame you not for deciding otherwise because I too know the curse of having good looks and I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost mine.” The dwarf laughed heartily and had to catch his breath before continuing. “Let’s take care of that auburn hair now.”
Dragon-Eyes shaved his head and they all went to sleep around the fire.
The next day, Ali-Steven stood on the deck of the Jester’s Pride and felt the strange sensation of heavy wind on his bald head. He felt like the name of the ship was a good harbinger to remain undetected and peered out into the rippling emerald waters. He planned to go to Gama Traka, but was unsure of what to do once he arrived.
Dragon-Eyes and Gamelda were stowed away in a cabin below and had told Ali-Steven they would stay in the small room until he got off at the Androsi Isles. That’s where Ali-Steven had to board a new ship to Gama Traka and his new friends would remain on the same boat on their trip to the Pearl Islands. He had said a final farewell to the pair before boarding, although he hoped to see them again.
His mind couldn’t focus on any one thought. So many concerns converged in his head like going into the world as a marked man. He knew that if enough men could surround and apprehend him, he would have little recourse and death would soon follow. He felt and heard a sudden thud that rocked the Jester’s Pride.
Before Ali-Steven could figure out the situation, he noticed pirateers boarding the ship.
A short stump of a man wearing tattered duds spoke loud, “Nobody try nothin stupit and no one’s gotta die. Ye try to hide any valuables, ye die. Get on ye knees and put any valuables in front of ya. It’ll all be over soon and we can get back on our in no time.”
The small pack of pirateers carried an invisible haze of a strange mixture of stale booze, crusty sweat, soiled pants and a sin-filled foulness.
Everything was moving along until Ali-Steven heard two men whispering and nodding to each other.
The ousted prince warned, “Don’t do it. They’ll kill us all.”
“Shut ye face over there or we’ll throw ye in,” one of the pirateers threatened.
The two men jumped up and pulled their swords. A few other foolish men tried to defeat the pirateers. He knew the passengers couldn’t win, so he just stood up and raised his open hands to chest level. He felt confident that his life would be spared until a silver flash crossed his eyes and tremendous pain followed. The world disappeared for Ali-Steven Wamhoff and he fell flat on his face. His burgundy blood seeped into the cracks of the wooden planks. A pirateer checked him for valuables, kicked him a couple of times and ran away.
Ali-Steven opened his eyes and saw Gamelda out of his right eye. He couldn’t see anything out of his left eye. He turned and looked down at Dragon-Eyes as the sloshing sounds of the green waves played in his ears.
Six
Ali-Samuel Wamhoff
17 Years Later
Year 384
The General rode nest to Ali-Samuel on the way to the Capitol and said, “I’m not going to lie; when I first saw you two years ago, I didn’t think you stood a goose’s chance of coming out alive. You’re
the exact opposite of your father. Short, scrawny, but damn if you can’t stroke a sword with the best of them. I put you in the vanguard because of your father and I’m glad I did. I still wonder where Ali-Steven ended up. I respected him and I respect you. The King sent you away because he thought you would die in battle. Smile big when you see him.”
“I can’t believe our King is going to knight me. Half of me thinks that he’s bringing me back to kill me, not knight me,” Ali-Samuel worried.
“I’d love to tell you that isn’t a valid concern, but I can’t. I hate the Capitol and all its dealings. If I were you, I’d try to get away from that place as soon as I can. You heard about what it did to your father. Warriors like us don’t take well to the underhanded games that the nobles like to play. I told your father something a long time ago, but he didn’t have enough time to call for my help. You have the undying respect of all the men in our company. If a time should come that you feel you need support down here, send word directly to me. Do you understand?”
“I do. Thank you, General,” Ali-Samuel said.
The short young man with a narrow face, shaggy red hair and serious look wiped some sweat from his forehead. His icy blue eyes stared at the horizon as his body bounced up and down on the horse.
The sun started to retreat for the day and the General slowed down to find a place to set up camp. Sir Willem rode up and the three men were the first to stop.
The boisterous ex-member of the King’s Guard said, “General, why in the Gods’ words are you talking to this traitor? Father’s a traitor, he’s a traitor. I’m just lucky I didn’t come down with it when I raped your dead mother after your grandmother went inside the castle. I can tell you that story again if you like? Shoulda smashed your bastard head in. Outta my way, I gotta piss.” He shoved Ali-Samuel aside and disappeared in the thick brush.
Ali-Samuel made eye contact with the General, who nodded and said, “I’ll make an excuse for this. He won’t be greatly missed and you deserve this.”
Ali-Samuel followed the trickling sound and soon found Sir Willem. He stood next to the big man and played with his belt.
“Come to look at me cock, have you? Well, get yourself a good look, why don’t you?” Sir Willem turned toward Ali-Samuel.
The teenager pulled a knife with his right hand and lunged at the taller man’s chest. He connected at the exact spot he had intended to and held the knife as Sir Willem went down to both knees. He twisted the blade and watched the eyes of his mother’s murderer go dead. He pulled out the bloody steel and wanted to smile, but couldn’t.
He thought killing the man who had murdered his mother would make him feel better, but it didn’t. He felt the same as when he had killed the five other men who had been involved in his mother’s killing. He felt nothing, just the same hollow feeling he always carried.
Ali-Samuel was an emotionless teenager. He wiped the blood from his knife on Sir Willem’s pants and went back to the General.
They moved the campsite down the road to hide the body from the other men. The rest of the group finally caught up. General Horsten told the men that Sir Willem had travelled ahead to take care of a small matter. They all ate and went to sleep on the uneven earth.
Two days later, he trotted up to the main northern gate of the King’s Castle and only his Uncle Ryen was awaiting his arrival. Ali-Samuel got down from his mount and gave his uncle a firm embrace.
Ryen patted him on the back and said, “How was it, nephew?”
“I liked it. I liked looking at an opponent and seeing them smile, thinking I would be an easy victory. They don’t smile anymore, good uncle. Has the King called me back to kill me once and for all?” Ali-Samuel asked the most important question he could think of.
Ryen shook his head. “I don’t believe that’s the case. There’s something we need to talk about.” He looked around and spoke in almost a whisper, “Our King has experienced a holy epiphany and you may not even recognize him.”
“What in the hells does that mean? Epiphany?” Ali-Samuel wanted to know.
“You are going to have to see for yourself. It’s impossible to explain because it’s entirely unbelievable,” his uncle explained.
Now Ali-Samuel really worried that there was a murder plot to get rid of him.
He can’t kill me by sending me away to war so he’s going to do it right here in the Capitol where he has all the power. Maybe I need to get to our beloved King first.
“Should I be scared?” Ali-Samuel asked as he looked down at his sword and knives.
“No, my nephew. That should be the farthest thing from your mind right now. Let’s go see our King, shall we?” His uncle led the way into the castle.
As they walked, Ali-Samuel said, “I got to do a lot of thinking while I was away. Thank you, Uncle Ryen.”
The older man asked, “For what?”
Ali-Samuel spoke in his monotone, “For always standing up for me. After Queen Tomeo died, you were the only one in the family who looked out for me. I know it put you at odds with everyone else. I appreciate it and will never forget what you’ve done.”
“I promised your father I would do my best to raise you. I tried my damnedest to help, but I was stifled at every attempt. I wish I could have done a whole heap more than I did,” his uncle confessed.
“You did plenty and I am forever indebted to you,” Ali-Samuel said.
Most men would have gotten emotional during this conversation but he maintained the cold, empty feeling. This was just another conversation for the neglected Wamhoff. As they neared the solar, they saw guards crowded around the west wing of the castle.
They made their way through a large pack of armor-wearing men and Ryen asked the guard outside the door, “Is he in here?”
“Yes, my lord,” Sir Allen answered and stepped aside.
“How bad is he?” Ryen asked before going in.
“Don’t know, my lord. Nobody’s been in or out in a few hours now. We can hear him praying every now and then, so we don’t need to go in and check on him,” Sir Allen reported.
What in the bloody hells is going on? Praying? King Ali-Baster is praying? To who? The non-existent Gods of whores and booze? Something is really off here.
Ryen and Ali-Samuel entered the solar and saw the King pacing around and muttering to himself. Hundreds of burning candles illuminated Ali-Baster Wamhoff, but Ali-Samuel couldn’t tell if his eyes were playing tricks on him. He stared at a bald man who looked like he had seen a demon. The King wore a kirtle made out of coarse black animal hair that had been poorly stitched together. The man mumbled to no one in particular and finally focused on Ali-Samuel.
“There he is. Back from that awful battle.” The King came over and kneeled in front of Ali-Samuel and placed his palms on Ali-Samuel’s boots. Ali-Baster started rambling, “I am so sorry for so many things. Killing your mother, trying to kill you. I even had my own wife killed and all my misgivings have finally caught up to me. I’ve seen the visions, oh I’ve seen them.”
The King looked up at Ali-Samuel with madness in his eyes. “It’s a fire, a great fire, with Travibero fanning the flames. I’m there. I’m in the flames. I thought if I didn’t directly kill anyone that I would be safe from the Gods’ wrath. I was wrong, so wrong. I must repent, atone and purge the sin. I seek your forgiveness. I need your forgiveness.”
Ali-Samuel narrowed his eyes and said, “I’m not sure I can forgive you.”
Ali-Samuel didn’t know if this was some sort of ruse and kept expecting the King to return to his former state.
“I understand, it’s fine. I deserve the darkest hell. Perhaps someday you will forgive me. I’ve heard the voices. They’re telling me to give the kingdom to the lowborn citizens. No one will help me; they all think I’m mad. The voices say my soul will rise to the heavens if I give our treasury to the poor. You need to help me give the realm to the people. The Wamhoffs have sinned for too long. We need to take noble action, lest we be judged unworthy of the he
avens.”
“Alright, my King,” Ali-Samuel said.
Ali-Baster snapped, “Don’t call me that. Everyone is a king and deserves to rule themselves. The voices have told me so. The voices have spoken.”
“Stay here, grandfather, Uncle Ryen and I will be right back,” Ali-Samuel told him.
They turned to leave and the King screamed, “Ali-Ryen, your name should be Ali-Ryen. You need to help me.”
Ryen closed the door and they went to an audience chamber down the hallway.
As soon as Ali-Samuel closed the door, he asked, “Is this some sort of extravagant jest that everyone’s in on? When did this happen?”
His uncle scratched his stubbly beard and answered, “Little over a fortnight ago. Sir Robert found him naked and crying in the King’s Square around seven bells in the morning. He was giving away his jewels to anyone who passed by. We’ve tried our best to keep this quiet, but we all know someone is bound to find out. He denounced his guard and violence as a whole and luckily we’ve been able to keep him inside the castle for the most part. However, he’s confessing and apologizing to anyone with ears, and word will get out soon. He only wears that kirtle and he has seven bloodletting sessions a day using twenty one leaches. You saw the marks all over his body, he can’t be seen right now. “
“The General didn’t know about this. So what’s the plan for the old man?” Ali-Samuel asked.
Ryen enjoyed a laugh. “We aren’t sure exactly how to handle this. He is the King and we must always respect that, but that principle assumes he’s of sound mind and body. You heard him. He wants to give the kingdom away to free his soul of all his past transgressions.”
