His concentration broke when the Crippler said, “It’s been several days now; we have to send a response.”
He set down the dagger and replied, “I know, I know. I’ve given thought to a thousand different ways to handle this situation. We could race over to the Blue Caps, praying that the secret tunnels really exist or haven’t collapsed, but we all know that if we get caught in the passes, we’ll be ripe for an easy slaughter. The Wamhoffs would be two days behind us, but their cavalry could catch our infantry and we would lose too many men. I rejected any alliance they have proposed. They are ousted Wamhoffs, supposedly treated like bastards, but that dirty royal blood still rushes through their veins. We will all be dead within a fortnight if we sign any peace accord. Now they camp on top of our biggest reserve of hidden gold. Depending on their resources, we might not be able to starve them out without that gold. I’ve already put a moratorium on all incoming ships to the Bonewich Harbors. They’ll soon take control of other harbors, I would presume, but this is a start. We need to stockpile any resources we can and prepare for a siege.”
“It will be done, your highness,” Benroy said.
The Man with the Golden Sword went back to sharpening as he continued, “The only way to get rid of this problem is flattery. Just as Ali-Samuel has tried with us, using every possible compliment in his letters. I know Ali-Samuel. He will never stop short of his dream. He lusts for power. Gold and jewels can buy power. I propose we send him gifts to entice him to move down the coast of Fox Chapel to launch his invasion. Have the carpenters craft a giant fox passant with several doors on the sides of the body and open storage inside the doors. We will stuff it with riches to get rid of them so we can get to our buried gold that has one hundred times the value. If all goes accordingly, they take the money and leave, we get our gold and get back on the move to the Capitol. Our sources tell us security around the realm increases by the day especially on the other side of the Blue Cap Mountains.” The Man had been taking firm control of the meetings and sounding more regal by the day despite not studying with the Crippler anymore.
The meeting room was different now. The whores had been expunged from the castle and only ewers of water sat on the table top. The Man hadn’t been drinking much wine lately to keep his head clear and wanted his subjects to do the same. He felt the men had been enjoying themselves far too much before victory.
“Give me one hundred good archers, oh hells, they don’t even have to be that good. I’ll take ‘em down Griffins Pike and we’ll rain fire on those Wamhoff followers,” Terry Underling suggested.
The Man stopped for a second to ponder the thought. He didn’t want to resort to dirty tactics but Ali-Samuel had already tried to break down the city gates to kill him, so nothing was off the table anymore. He said, “We will wait for his response to our peaceful proposal, but if he refuses, we will dispatch your attack.”
Two days later, a raven arrived back at the rookery with a sealed letter embossed with a fox. The enemy rebuffed his offer and stated that he could come reclaim his gift personally if he wanted it back. They refused to move and strongly suggested The Man accept their original offer. He became incensed and went straight to Terry Underling to authorize the attack. If he doesn’t want to listen to sense, I’ll show him I can beat him without losing a single man. Why is he being so foolhardy?
He and Ali-Samuel had called themselves ‘Battle Brothers’ when they fought against Goldenfield and The Man was extremely disappointed in his one-time friend. In his rage, he gave Terry the services of two hundred archers that would stuff Griffins Point, the small overhang that looked down on the Wamhoff campsite.
The anger still swelled as he walked back to his quarters. His journey to the throne had been delayed again. Patience was never one of The Man’s virtues. Force had always been his friend, not waiting. He entered his room to find Gamelda reading a leather-bound book with old, cracked yellow pages and faded ink as she sat on a cushioned teal couch. She kept reading but said, “We need to leave or you will die.”
He retorted, “No, if we leave, we will die.”
She put down the book, looked at her lover, and said, “Oh, is that what you see in your spirit ball? Look at me.”
“I am,” The Man responded, staring at her chest.
She raised his face to meet hers and said with a concerned look, ““I’ve seen the great fire, inside these city walls. Your body is burning.”
“Are you sure it’s me?” he asked.
She calmly answered, “I was certain when I saw a blond man wearing a crown that turned out to be King Jon Colbert. My spirits are never wrong. If we stay, you will die.”
He looked away and didn’t want to believe this could be true. He said, “The Crippler says we should ally with our enemies because King Colbert is a whole different animal than Tersen Wamhoff, more like a dragon actually. The Queen of Goldenfield snuck through the city gates with a full host and couldn’t breach the castle. They’ll be expecting our attack, and our soldiers can’t be much better than hers, if even that. You have to look into that crystal skull again and see me on the throne. You will see me at some point; I know it.”
“Look at me,” she said pulling him back toward her before continuing, “What if I never see it?”
“No matter. You can see it with your own eyes, in real life. It’ll be much better that way,” he said with a forced smile.
Everyone could see the stress building inside the new king. He knew being a supreme monarch added more responsibility to the constant grind, but the decisions were starting to tax his mind. He wanted to get to battle, a situation he could excel in.
“The Crippler’s had visions of me as King of Donegal,” The Man added nonchalantly, knowing it would bother Gamelda. He hoped it would give her motivation to see him on the throne in her skull.
“What other lies has he told you? Have you ever seen that man bleed, I ask you?” Gamelda pressed him as she suddenly became agitated.
He answered, “I think so, but I don’t specifically remember.”
“Was it black or red? I hope you remember that,” she remarked.
The Man couldn’t truly remember but said, “I think it was red. I would’ve remembered if it was black.”
She shook her head and warned, “You think so, do you? You better be damn sure he doesn’t bleed black or that might be why your soul seems tainted by darkness.”
“I’ve never seen lots of people bleed, but I can’t just go around pricking people to check,” he said, staring into her intoxicating eyes.
Gamelda seemed to sense that he was passively referring to her. She stood up and held an open hand in the air. A sheath on The Man’s hip unlatched its own buckle. The knife escaped the holder and flew across the room until the handle safely landed in Gamelda’s right hand. With a smile, she nicked the top of her other hand in between her thumb and forefinger. The crimson zest of life dripped down on the floor. She said, “You are the king. You could make all your subjects line up to check the purity of their blood. You are a king but if you wish to continue with that status, you must beware of the Crippler.”
B-Emilia
“So we all agree that we can’t lay siege?” Ali-Steven asked to confirm.
Nobody objected in the rickety meeting room on the blustery beach. Fall on the Elkridge coast was unlike anything the Histoman had ever seen. Their native land stayed warm to hot all year long and they weren’t used to such harsh winds. Their tents and belongings kept getting blown all over the sand and into the water. Luckily, it had rained the night before, so the nasty sandstorms weren’t blowing.
“What else can we do? The Harbor Master told me that The Man with the Golden Sword has ordered a halt on all incoming trade to Bonewich Harbors. We’d have to move camp miles down shore to find the next harbor,” Ali-Samuel reported.
Emilia suggested, “Maybe we should take his gold and add it to ours and move down to Fox Chapel to buy more allegiance.”
Ali-Steven immediately
refuted, “We can’t. If we had the ships, which we don’t, we’d be wide open to attack. We might not even get to land before our entire fleet is sunk. With King Jon controlling the coasts, we would never see firm ground. Even if we could land and make it inland, we stand to lose too much to try to regain through alliances backed by gold or promises.”
“We thtill have our bethed tholdierth, but they’ve never ethecuted a land invathion. I think it bethed to find a way to defeat this bathdard,” Sir Ralph said.
Emilia asked, “How much provisions do we have?”
Ali-Steven answered, “Even with the hunting teams faring well, winter is looming and we eventually need them to fight in battle if that day should ever come. We would ultimately need to start raiding bordering towns and cities. That’s a reputation we don’t want to gain this early, if we wish to harbor support from any lords.”
Emilia thought out loud, “What if we play into his vanity? What if we sent him a request for an old-fashioned duel? His best man versus our best man. Loser leaves.” Emilia knew she had a good idea when Ali-Samuel raised an eyebrow and sat up straight.
He said, “Now that would appeal to his self-pride as a soldier and a leader. Yet that fool knows I would best him in a fair fight. He probably won’t go for it.”
Sir Ralph said, “Won’t hurt to try.”
Ali-Steven closed the topic by saying, “Send a letter.”
“What about the Colbert boy? If the King doesn’t want to believe we have his son, maybe we should send him a few body parts as a friendly reminder,” said Ali-Samuel.
Emilia was livid and said, “That’s quite cruel. Besides, the boy’s survived a dragon attack. He is unrecognizable from his former self.”
Ali-Samuel thought for a second before saying, “I have it. Make the King send a representative by sea to dock in the harbor and Krys will go talk to the representative to confirm his identity. That man can send verification to the King and then, then we have our bartering chip. We could use his help to rid us of The Man with the Golden Sword.”
Ali-Steven said, “Send a letter.”
The meeting ended and Emilia went outside to see the Histoman struggling to maintain the fires and braziers. She heard two Histoman screaming in primal agony when an entire kettle of boiling liquid came crashing down on them because the tripod wasn’t set up properly. The nasty looks were common now and Emilia had learned to ignore them as she put her head down. Pariah and Princess were the only ones she cared about anymore. She approached the two girls who were shivering despite being attired in thick, long-sleeved cloaks made of layered linens. Emilia invited them into her tent to warm up. The small area didn’t offer much except protection from the wind bursts that now ruffled the fabric walls of the tent. The three sat on her tiny bed and Emilia handed out blankets to help her friends stop their shaking and teeth chattering. Emilia had experienced the extremes of every season in Burkeville and Fox Chapel.
They played castle cards and talked for hours before falling asleep on the same bed. Emilia was startled awake by horrible sounds of destruction. She poked her head outside the tents to see glowing purple fire everywhere. People were running around, fully engulfed in flames. Pariah and Princess were awake and screaming but didn’t want to come out of the tent. Pavilions, tents, humans and horses were all ablaze and the frantic calls for help came from all sides. She didn’t need Pariah to translate the desperate pleas that broke all language barriers. The other girls finally crawled out of the tent.
Emilia panicked amidst the chaos. She didn’t know whether to get back inside or make a break for the caves. She just stood there holding onto her best friends until Pariah tapped Emilia and pointed up. She looked up to see a fiery hell of amethyst flames descending down from the heavens. Suddenly, someone slammed into the girls and pushed them under a circular wooden table with its legs dug firmly into the sand. Krys Colbert guided the girls to safety just as the beach was peppered with more destruction. The table had been set ablaze and Krys grabbed the women and pulled them toward the caves. Emilia looked back at the burning table and almost tripped. She looked up again and saw another round of fire-breathing missiles headed for the earth. Then all she saw was darkness.
Krys had guided them into an opening in the mountain. The small crevasse was almost completely full of screaming Histoman. She wondered about Ali-Steven and Ali-Samuel and her blood started to boil as she remembered the suggestion to torture Krys Colbert and further disfigure the boy. Ali-Samuel’s cruelty had seemed to go unnoticed until they left the Capitol. He had hidden it well in the early stages of his relationship with the former queen.
The bombardment stopped and they came out of the caves. Emilia watched as what must’ve been over one thousand arrows finally flamed out, but the purple fire blazed on even longer. Emilia found the Wamhoff men, who were absolutely fuming.
“Dirty tactics. Attacking innocent women and children,” Ali-Samuel lamented, without bothering to check on the condition of his future bride.
None of the survivors slept that night. Some mourned, some vowed revenge, but everyone kept looking up, expecting another attack. The members of the war council tried to mount a plan to continue toward the Capitol as they gathered around an open fire.
“Have you seen Ali-Samuel?” Emilia asked Ali-Steven.
The older man looked puzzled and said, “He didn’t tell you? He went on a mission to defeat our enemy.”
The former queen shook her head in disgust and said, “No, he didn’t tell me, again.”
Ali-Steven spoke in measured, careful tones, “He was outraged that someone he served with would stoop to fighting this way. It’s hard to understand unless you’ve been to war.”
She asked, “Am I not at war right now? I could have easily swallowed a flaming arrow if Krys Colbert hadn’t saved Pariah and me. Yes, the same Krys Colbert your son discussed cutting apart and sending to the King. The same Krys Colbert that saved your wife’s life.”
Ali-Steven had a dumbfounded look on his face and spoke, “War. The war you are involved in comes attached to dirty games that only get increasingly worse as every year passes. Common sense would tell us that you aren’t supposed to use a man like a chess piece. You aren’t supposed to attack women and children. War is only winnable if you are willing to go farther than your enemy. Then, and only then, can you take a crown.”
Emilia asked, “How long will he be gone for?”
The scar-faced older man answered, “About four or five days.”
Disappointment started to settle in her eyes and it seemed like Ali-Steven noticed and said, “I know my son has certain problems with sharing his thoughts properly. That, it pains me to say, has much to do with me. I wasn’t there from the beginning of his life. Even if I could have come back and rescued him when he was eight or ten or even twelve, I could have made a difference. Just some time to be there for my son. Some time to influence him not to be so cynical of everything. I could have taught him to take deep breaths and step back, rather than jump to action. I could have made him such a better man than my brothers did, but I didn’t. I failed him and it seems now I have failed you in turn.”
Emilia agreed with part of his statement. She thought Ali-Steven was a much better person than his son and would have been a positive influence.
She said in a soothing voice, “It’s not your fault. You had to leave Donegal.”
Ali-Steven looked at her intently before saying, “That’s what I’ve told everyone for all these years. My king father was angry with me, but I know he wouldn’t have killed me. Without my wife, I thought life in Donegal was over. I barely thought about Ali-Samuel when I was fleeing. I know that’s terrible but all I could think of was my wife’s head, not connected to her body. I often think of what could have been had I stayed and reconciled matters with my father. I think after some time, he would have named me heir again. I could have been King of Donegal way back when, had I only stayed.”
“It’s never too late, you still hav
e a chance to be King of Donegal,” Emilia said, but she understood this would be a much harder path after looking around at the utter destruction. She went to sleep alone by a fire while wondering about Ali-Samuel’s secret mission.
Elisa
The coachman sat next to Petyr the Powerful on the front bench of the moving coach as Queen Elisa and Lady Victoriah talked to the Lord of Defense. Elisa looked out the opening with the golden silk curtain drawn back.
“Just because she failed, doesn’t mean we are going to fail,” Lady Victoriah said.
The Lord of Defense spoke fast and seemed unsure, “Yes, well, it does show that even an unexpected attack can be thwarted by our new King.”
Elisa interjected, “She doesn’t know the Capitol and castle like we do. Has there been any progress on the Krys Colbert situation?”
“Two spies from Waters Edge reported that infiltrating the Wamhoff’s operation would be near impossible. The sources haven’t seen anyone who resembles the description we gave them. The Wamhoffs only have a small group of western men as war officers. The rest are Histoman. They know that no one would be anxious to rush to their side to support a barbarian effort, so sending in one of our men would raise serious suspicion,” the Lord of Defense said.
“What about our people in the Capitol? What’s the word on the Princess effort?” Elisa asked.
The Lord of Defense looked embarrassed, lowered his head and said, “Our sources have changed allegiance to the King, it would appear. We haven’t received word back from over ten sources.”
As they neared Pigeon Bridge, Elisa never thought she would have to lower herself to these unclean dealings, but she could almost feel the crown on her head. The lust for power changed people. “Were my mother and brothers with Queen Leimur?” Elisa asked.
Six Heads One Crown (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 3) Page 17
