by R A Oakes
However, Tarlen was confused when his cousin came closer, and he got a better view of her face. Glenitant looked haggard and exhausted, her hair was disheveled, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
“Have you been in combat?” the young boy asked excitedly. He’d seen warriors once before after they’d been involved in a particularly vicious battle. The warriors had returned victorious to Dominion Castle, but one horseman in particular had looked at Tarlen with a vacant, hollow stare as he rode by. Glenitant was giving Tarlen the same look now.
“No, I escaped into this passageway through one of the other secret entrances,” she said in a raspy voice.
But realizing why Glenitant was dragging her sword, or at least believing he did, Tarlen smiled and said, “You and Crystal are playmates, aren’t you? Just like Carp and me!”
“No, Tarlen, we’re not playmates,” Glenitant said gasping for breath and wearing a beaten-down look on her face.
“Yes you are! Crystal’s playing with you, I can tell!” the young boy insisted, and Tarlen giggled while thinking of the fun he’d have with a magic sword for a playmate.
Filled with excitement, Tarlen forgot Carplorthian’s warning and spoke directly to the dark sword saying, “You’re playing with Glenitant, aren’t you? Go ahead, admit it! You’re teasing her by making her drag you around!”
“I don’t think it’s meant as a joke,” Carplorthian said, cautiously placing himself between Tarlen and Crystal.
But being a child, Tarlen easily recognized childish behavior in others, whether it was intended to be so or not.
“I’ve seen court jesters pulling pranks as a way of cheering up my father,” Tarlen said. “Crystal’s playing the fool for Glenitant to cheer her up.”
“I’m not a fool,” Crystal said menacingly.
“Yes you are! Fool! Fool!” the young boy said doubling over with laughter.
The deepest darkness Tarlen had ever seen leapt out of Crystal slamming both Carplorthian and himself against the wall behind them. A disgusting smell like rotting garbage filled Tarlen’s nostrils, and the darkness pushed even harder against the boy nearly crushing him.
However, the young king wasn’t totally untouched by life, and he knew violent aggression when he saw it. Having observed King Kardimont dealing with bullies, Tarlen followed his father’s example. He put everything on the line including Carplorthian’s life, Glenitant’s and his own.
“Don’t ever hold back when confronting danger,” King Kardimont had once instructed his youngest son. “Show not the slightest fear or weakness. And when you win, win decisively. But if you should go down in defeat, make such an end as to be the stuff of legend!”
As he said these words, King Kardimont’s eyes had burned with fiery intensity, and Tarlen had taken the lesson to heart.
And so now, the young boy dug deep inside himself summoning up the courage of a bloodline of kings going back uninterrupted for five centuries. With wisdom beyond his years, he left his knife in its sheath knowing this, instead, was a test of wills. He forgot all about being six-years-old. He spoke now as the king. He’d heard his father do it a hundred times.
“Let go of my friend and me,” the boy said calmly but firmly.
“Why should I?” Crystal sneered.
“Because we know the way out, and you don’t. If you want to get out of here, you’ll need us to do it,” King Tarlen said.
“Listen to me, you little runt, you’ll do what I tell you,” Crystal threatened.
“Not in this lifetime. You may not know whom you’re dealing with, but I’m the new king. You’ll do what I say, or we can all die in here, and you can lie on the floor and rust.”
“You’re bluffing,” the dark sword said.
“Try me,” King Tarlen challenged.
“I can’t take any more. I’d rather be dead than be chained to Crystal for the rest of my life,” Glenitant said overwhelmed with fatigue and emotionally drained.
“My loyalty is to the king,” Carplorthian said prepared to face death without flinching.
“And I’m the king!” the young boy said proudly.
Crystal reassessed the situation, realized she’d overplayed her hand and thought, This young boy, or new king, or whoever, isn’t going to be as easy to intimidate as Glenitant.
Annoyed by this development, Crystal nonetheless changed tactics and said, “I didn’t know who you were, sire. The whole castle’s being overrun, and I had no idea whose side you were on.”
“Do I look like a gargoyle?” Tarlen asked.
“No, sire.”
“Then let go of my friend and me.”
“Your wish is my command,” the dark sword said.
“It had better be, or you’ll wish it was,” Tarlen said
firmly. He’d heard his father say this once before and thought it sounded good. “Also, get rid of the cold and the fog.”
“Anything else?” Crystal asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Glenitant, get that thing under control or leave it behind,” Tarlen said stalking off into the darkness, and Carplorthian quickly ran after him holding a torch, happy to be serving a true king once more. When they’d been walking for over an hour, the young king and his chief aide saw the flickering light of a campfire off in the distance. A few minutes later, they found themselves facing a large cavern filled with over 100 warriors and their horses. The head of the royal guard, Captain Polaris, recognized them immediately and ran over to greet them.
“How goes the battle?” Captain Polaris asked, though he already knew things weren’t going well. Unless the situation was quite precarious, King Kardimont would never have ordered him to take his warriors to the cavern. This escape route was reserved for a last-ditch effort to save members of the royal family.
“The castle is lost,” Carplorthian said putting it bluntly. “Swarenth’s gargoyles have broken through all our defenses.”
“How many members of the royal family will be joining us?”
“There won’t be anyone else. Tarlen’s all that’s left of King Kardimont’s line.”
Going down on one knee, Captain Polaris kissed a small ring on Tarlen’s left hand, one bearing the Kardimont’s family crest, and said, “I swear allegiance to you, King Tarlen.”
“I need to stay alive, Carp says, if we’re to have any hope of ever reclaiming Dominion Castle.”
Yes, sire, most definitely. Even now, there are those who’d flock to your banner,” Captain Polaris said trying to provide encouragement. But to himself he thought, Every warrior within 100 miles is already here.
Looking sharply at the king’s chief aide and advisor, the captain asked, “What’s the plan?”
“We make for Hawthorn Village.”
“But there’s nothing there, my lord, just a few homes and farms. I don’t see how we can defend the king in a place like that.”
“I’ve known the blacksmith and his wife for years, and they’ll take him in. The last thing Swarenth will expect is for Tarlen to become a village smithy’s apprentice. I intend on hiding our young king in plain sight.”
“It’s the last place I’d look as well, my lord,” the captain admitted.
“Swarenth loves the trappings of power. He’ll expect us to head for Kingsgate Castle, the royal retreat. It’s remote, defensible and is filled with creature comforts befitting the royal family.”
“If Swarenth can conquer Dominion Castle, he can take Kingsgate,” Captain Polaris said.
“Sure, but he’ll think we’re going there anyway. If Swarenth had to flee, that’s where he’d go.”
“Does Swarenth know that Tarlen’s alive?”
“Yes, some gargoyles saw us going through the dungeon’s escape-route door.”
“Then, we must act quickly. I’ll speak to my officers.”
Captain Polaris wanted to avoid announcing the death of nearly the whole royal family in front of the young king. Hearing the news himself was hard enough, but the captain realized it
would be even worse if Tarlen heard such ill tidings being shouted to everyone in the cavern. So, he spoke to his lieutenants who met with groups of their own men. Within a few minutes, all knew King Kardimont was dead.
Then Captain Polaris led Tarlen up a few stairs to a raised platform, and as the young boy in the green tunic stood facing the warriors, the head of the king’s personal guard shouted, “All hail King Tarlen!”
“Hail King Tarlen! Long live the king!” the men shouted.
“I can see why father liked this,” Tarlen said smiling up at his chief aide and advisor.
“This is the easy part, sire.”
“What’s the hard part?”
“Sending all these men to their death, if necessary, to insure your escape and the survival of the Kardimont line.”
“I’m not sure if I can do that.”
“The survival of the kingdom is more important than the lives of these warriors. It’s even more important than the feelings of a sensitive, six-year-old boy who has just lost his entire family. It’s more important than the king himself, but only through the survival of the king, or one of his line, can the kingdom endure. That’s why these warriors will gladly offer their lives to insure your escape. Only you, the last of the Kardimonts, can dethrone Swarenth,” Carplorthian said. “You wouldn’t want to bring dishonor to your father’s name, would you?”
“No, of course not,” Tarlen said.
“No matter what the cost, your duty is to stay alive to reclaim the throne. You have to give up being a boy, Tarlen, and you must be their king,” Carplorthian said sweeping his hand along the group of warriors in front of them. “Give them a king worth dying for! Self-doubt is a luxury a king can ill afford. Your men deserve better. They need their king. Go to them now and be their king!”
Tarlen stepped forward on the platform, and the men fell silent. A hush filled the cavern.
Captain Polaris approached Tarlen and said, “Sire, your father’s servants in the treasury brought down these two bags filled with gold coins and another filled with precious jewels. And they brought this!”
Holding the king’s ceremonial crown above Tarlen’s head, the captain of the king’s royal guard said, “All hail King Tarlen!”
The warriors unsheathed their swords, held them over their heads and shouted, “King Tarlen! Long live the king!” All dismounted and knelt before their master.
“I’m too small to wear this crown,” Tarlen said.
“But not too small to wear this,” the captain said holding up a circular band of gold bearing the Kardimont family crest. Placing it on Tarlen’s head and finding it to be a perfect fit, he said, “It used to be for a young crown prince, but today it’s a king’s crown.”
Then, leaning down to the young king, Captain Polaris said, “Please say something to the men, sire.”
Looking out at the faces of these battle-hardened veterans, Tarlen suddenly knew what to say. Generations of warriors would later listen in rapt attention to the story of the boy king and how he rallied his men in desperate times.
“It was not my choice to become king through the death of my entire family, just as it is not my first choice to send you all to your deaths, if need be, in order to save me. But I must be the king for there is no one else left to bear this burden. And you must keep your king from harm for there is no one else left to do so,” the young king said. “Let us shoulder our burdens without complaint. Preserve my life, and you preserve the kingdom. But if you allow me to die, then hope for the future will die with me.
“But you must do more than just die for your king,” Tarlen said as every eye in the cavern was locked onto him. “You must live until you find him safe haven. Therefore, my first command as king is this, I command you to live! As long as you stay alive, your king will stay alive! When the doors open to the world outside, I command you to become invincible. I command you to resist the enemy’s swords, spears and arrows. I command you to do the impossible. I command you to live in the face of horrible odds. For I ask the impossible of you. I ask you to save your king!”
With that, Tarlen climbed down the stairs followed closely by Captain Polaris. There was total silence in the cavern. All were aware of what they had just witnessed. A six- year-old boy had just given them the most inspirational speech of their entire lives. Beginning in the back of the cavern there came the sound of men beating on their armor, pounding on their breastplates. The salute gained momentum as it rolled towards the front until the cavern was filled with the deafening noise of men charged up and ready for battle!
“Tarlen! Tarlen! Tarlen!” they shouted.
The young king pulled on Captain Polaris’ arm, and he leaned down to hear his master’s will. “I ride with you, captain. You’re now in command, and the fate of the kingdom is in your hands.”
“Mount up!” Captain Polaris shouted, and the warriors leapt onto their saddles. The captain of the royal guard reached down and lifted Tarlen up placing the king in front of him.
Carplorthian, mounted on a fine black stallion, was now wearing a sword. Glenitant was also mounted and wearing the dark sword, Crystal.
Two warriors pushed open the doors and then ran for their own horses.
“Long live the king!” Captain Polaris shouted.
“Long live the king!” the warriors shouted and charged through the doorway.
Chapter 4
Skybrook Castle. Thirty years after the fall of Dominion Castle.
With storm clouds brewing in her eyes, Chen strode through the great hall of Skybrook Castle surrounded by 25 warrior women, all of whom were bristling with pent-up energy. Since arriving with Lord Pensgraft and Dylancia, the black leather panther had spent much of her time prowling the castle’s corridors memorizing the layout, including all the secret passageways. Enlisting the aid of Lord Stallington’s most elite and trusted warriors, Chen had stationed them directly inside the hidden entrances, as well as throughout the passageways themselves. By doing so, the warrior woman hoped to keep leaders of rival factions from sneaking around undetected.
Having reached the castle three days ago, Chen knew rumors were already circulating about the purpose of her visit. By now, most people realized Lord Stallington had asked the black leather panther to help his daughter, Genevieve, become the next ruler of Skybrook Castle. His son, Rathlor, was out. And so, the warrior woman was stalking the corridors virtually daring someone to challenge her. None did, at least not yet.
Dressing as Black Scarlet, it was obvious Chen was prepared for a fight. Enhancing her black leather outfit, the female panther was wearing a sleeveless, scarlet-colored blouse cut to just above the hip. And flowing over her shoulders, down her back and all the way to her knees was a scarlet cape. However, even more unnerving to some, was Black Scarlet’s flag and where she flew it.
The flag’s design was simple, a scarlet rectangle with the roaring head of a black panther in the center. As far as where it was being displayed, Chen had chosen the highest tower at Skybrook Castle for at its peak was a flagpole with Lord Stallington’s banner rippling in the wind. And now, just below it, was Black Scarlet’s, which was a first since Lord Stallington’s “Fighting Eagle” flag had never shared its space with any other.
Castle residents quickly realized this was much more than a symbolic gesture. For all practical purposes, Lord Stallington had placed Skybrook Castle under Black Scarlet’s control. And with the fragile ruler’s blessing, Chen was promoting and demoting at will within the ranks of the military, while also dismissing cabinet ministers from governmental positions and installing new ones with no explanation.
Chen’s strategy was simple. Those loyal to Lord Stallington would accept the changes no matter what. Those disloyal, or even of questionable loyalty, would eventually crack under the strain as Black Scarlet gave the entire power structure an overhaul.
Making her way through Skybrook Castle’s great hall, Chen smiled upon seeing her husband sitting next to a massive hearth in Lord Stallingt
on’s favorite chair. After climbing onto Lord Pensgraft’s lap and sprawling out across his huge, muscular body, Black Scarlet said, “No one but Lord Stallington has ever sat in this chair, or so I’m told.”
“That’s why I’m sitting in it, with Lord Stallington’s permission, of course.”
“But no one knows that do they?” Chen said resting her head on his shoulder and rubbing a hand over his broad chest.
“No,” he replied gently stroking her hair. Then, brushing her cheek with his fingertips, he added, “Your skin’s so smooth and soft. It’s perfect.”
Enjoying the flattery, Chen began squirming on his lap and smiled as she felt something hard under her left thigh.
But they both glanced up when a small group of cabinet ministers walked across the opposite end of the room. All were dressed in black robes, but soon were also wearing looks of stunned disbelief when they saw Black Scarlet and Lord Pensgraft lounging in Lord Stallington’s chair.
“Is Lord Stallington dead?” one minister asked hesitantly.
“No, he’s resting comfortably in his chambers,” Lord Pensgraft answered.
“Do you realize you’re sitting in the Fighting Eagle’s chair?” the minister asked taking a few tentative steps forward.
“Yes, and it’s quite comfortable.”
Staring wide-eyed at Lord Pensgraft, the minister became even further unnerved when Chen’s warrior women began glaring at him. Hastily retreating back to his fellow ministers, there were a few moments of tense, subdued conversation, and then a senior minister looked contemptuously at Lord Pensgraft with a hard, cold, level gaze.
Gripping both arms of the chair, Lord Pensgraft was ready to leap at his detractors, all of whom stumbled backwards in confusion and hurriedly left the room.
“Did you see how he looked at me?” Lord Pensgraft asked fighting to control his temper as the senior minister threw one last disdainful glance at the giant before scurrying away.
“Yes, but I doubt he’ll be back anytime soon,” Chen said with a smile trying to make light of the incident. She knew her husband was patient and could tolerate many things, but not a direct challenge to his authority. The ministers hadn’t known this. Well, they do now, the black leather panther thought.
