King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Zara’s expression sobered. “If it comes to that, you know we will do everything in our power, but we do have limits.”

  “I know... I wish I knew why the wizards’ line died out, for that matter, I wish I knew where the dragons went.”

  “You will find something that will help.”

  Arnaud smiled wanly. “I hope so, for all of us, I hope so.”

  When Zara left, he returned to his reading. He was getting frustrated and was starting to feel as though he ought to look elsewhere for answers to his questions. But then, as he kept reading, he began to see a ray of hope.

  When I arrived in the Mountains of Dusk, I approached the King of the dragons once more. He told me he had decided against joining our cause. He did not consider the threat great enough to risk personal injury for the sake of human lives. The dragons have never been very cause-oriented, and I was not surprised at their decision; however, I was disappointed and discouraged and started to turn to leave, completely disheartened. Then King Graldon stopped me and said something that lifted my spirits.

  He spoke in Old Kraïc, but Scelwhyn was there with me to interpret. “We will not fight in your war, but we will contribute this one thing.”

  I turned back towards him to find that he was holding a sword out to me as a gift. The dragons had fashioned the golden blade from one of the teeth of King Graldon himself, and the hilt was crafted from one of his silver scales.

  “This blade,” he said, “will not break or wear with time, and it will never fail you or your line when facing an enemy. We hope this sword will help you defeat the threat you speak of.” I thanked him and turned to go. Before I left, he added one more thing, “If Aom-igh is ever in this great a danger again, you have my word that the dragons will not hesitate to join you in combat.”

  I left the dragons feeling both cheered and defeated. I was glad of their gift and their promise, but I truly hope that Aom-igh is never in this much danger again. I hope this gift never needs to be used again, and I hope we never have reason to hold the dragons to their promise.

  Arnaud quickly scanned the next few pages; the sword in the hands of King Llian had truly been the weapon that had turned the tide. The enemy had been repulsed and forced to return home. The last few pages were written in a shaky, scrawling script by Llian as he lay on his deathbed. He described the cave that he had ordered Scelwhyn to create and the stipulations that bound the sword. There, the book ended. Arnaud flipped to the next page and found it blank. But then, as Arnaud watched in amazed wonder, words slowly appeared:

  You who now read this, be it in days nearby or in the far distance of years to come, are once again in danger from the Dark Country across the sea. They were driven back by the sword of light, but not defeated. Great King Llian, Defender of his people, lies cold in the tomb, and his mighty Fang Blade is hidden and protected by spells you cannot unravel. But do not despair; there is yet hope:

  When day is swallowed by night

  And the wanderer takes the road

  And the flame once more

  Burns bright:

  The youth will arise,

  The sword will awake,

  The dragons will fly

  And the enemy break.

  As quickly as they had appeared, the words vanished once more, leaving Arnaud to puzzle out the meaning of the cryptic message.

  chapter

  SIX

  Oraeyn was troubled by the way Brant was traveling. Although the man seemed certain of where he was going, they were not following any visible trail, and Oraeyn was furious to discover that he himself was completely lost. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brant - his King certainly seemed to think highly of the man - but Oraeyn was not used to being kept in the dark, and it was frustrating him. They were making it through the mountains in record time, once Brant showed them how to push their horses without exhausting them completely. Since they were supposedly headed towards the castle Oraeyn felt that they should have reached something familiar by now, but everywhere he turned all he saw was unfamiliar wilderness. At least they were headed in the right direction, but other than that Oraeyn had no idea where they were.

  “Brant,” Oraeyn said quietly as he rode up beside the man, “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Speak,” Brant said without looking at him.

  “How do you know that we are on the right track?” Oraeyn asked, “I haven’t seen any sign of a trail, how do you know that we are going in the right direction?”

  “We are going in the right direction,” Brant said simply.

  Oraeyn stared at him, speechless. He waited for a more specific answer, but Brant did not seem inclined to say anything more. At length, Oraeyn made a small, exasperated noise.

  Brant looked up at him. “Perhaps this will help: I’m sure you all have at least a few questions about me that I can answer, although many of them I cannot. Tonight when we make camp, I will explain the few things that I can, is that acceptable?”

  Oraeyn nodded and then allowed his horse to drift back towards Kamarie. She looked at him questioningly.

  “I still don’t know if I trust this man,” he whispered. “Maybe we were better off before we found him.”

  Kamarie frowned. “Brant said he would return with us to the palace, so far he has given us no indication that he is deceiving us or that he has gone back on his word. We would have no real idea of what to do next if we weren’t following Brant. I think we should trust him; my father does.”

  “You can trust him,” Yole’s quiet voice suddenly intruded on their private conversation, startling Oraeyn; he had not known that the boy was listening to their conversation.

  “How do you know?” Oraeyn asked suspiciously. “We have to be very careful who we trust. I’m not saying that I don’t trust Brant, I’m just saying that I don’t know if I trust him; there’s a difference.”

  Yole nodded, but did not seem satisfied, though he said no more. A thoughtful silence fell over the group as they traveled, a silence that lasted for quite some time. When they finally stopped for the night, they were each amazed yet again at how easy it was to set up camp without leaving any traces of their passing. Brant’s skills as a woodsman and a tracker seemed to know no bounds. Even Oraeyn was impressed enough to feel slightly remorseful that he had doubted the man.

  “Once we get completely out of the mountains, this procedure becomes more difficult,” Brant told them after they had gotten settled for the night, “because you have to deal with upsetting more plant life and trampling down the grass and the underbrush, but for now this will do. One good thing about the forest though, it is much easier to forage for food when you get into wooded areas.”

  After a quick supper, the weary travelers gathered as the Dragon’s Eye set in the glowing sky. All eyes were on Brant, and there was a feeling of expectancy in the air. Brant glanced around and then sighed quietly.

  “I promised young Oraeyn that I would answer at least some of your questions tonight. Listen closely, for I do not have time to repeat myself, and if there are any interruptions, I will be silenced. In time, you may grow to understand the need for this care.”

  The four of them leaned in closely so that they would be able to catch everything that the man they called Brant was going to say. A hush fell over the group as he began his story.

  “You already know my village was attacked and destroyed several days ago. The attacker did not leave any visible trail to your eyes and you may well be wondering how I knew which way to follow. I sense Oraeyn is not the only one of you who has questions about me. I hope I answered some of your questions, or at least assuaged some of your doubts when we set up camp tonight. Now I am going to answer a few more of your questions.

  “First of all, the ones who attacked my village were warriors from the Dark Country. I know much about the Dark Country and its people, I cannot tell you why or how I learned this information. Suffice to say that I am familiar with the Dark Warrior
s and I know how to identify their handiwork and how to track them. They do not leave a trail that is easy to find, which is why you have not been able to see the tracks I originally followed into the mountains. I also have reason to believe that the attack on my village was directed solely at me, but once again I cannot tell you why.” Brant stopped speaking and sat back.

  No one dared to say anything; for fear that he was not done. Nobody wanted to interrupt him after his warning. After a few moments, Brant continued.

  “Secondly, am I heading towards the palace, or am I still tracking my enemies? The answer is that I gave you my word I would return to the palace with you, and that is what I intend to do. I am still keeping an eye out for our enemies, but I am not intending to actively pursue them unless I am forced to. If you are unfamiliar with the trail I am following, that is because you do not know this area as well as you should. I spent years wandering this countryside before either of you young ones were born, when I was the King’s Warrior, so I assure you that I do know where I am and where I am going.”

  Oraeyn shifted uncomfortably. His mind was overflowing with even more questions than he had had before Brant’s answers. The questions that Brant had not answered were the questions that Oraeyn most wanted the answers to. He wanted to know and understand the “how” and the “why” behind Brant, not just this superficial information that told him nothing.

  Nobody seemed satisfied with Brant’s answers, except for Darby. She nodded slowly to herself and smiled, but no one seemed to notice Darby; they were all intent on Brant, waiting to see if he was going to say anything more. Oraeyn thought that he was about to burst from keeping all his comments and questions inside, but it was Kamarie who spoke first.

  “But you haven’t told us anything!” she burst out in dismay. “All you have done is told us that you plan to keep your promise to return with us to the castle.”

  Brant eyed her coolly. “I have said all that I can, Princess Kamarie.”

  Kamarie glowered at him, her normally bright blue eyes looked dark and stormy, and Oraeyn tried to think of something to say that would be acceptable as a truce. Coming up with nothing, he turned and asked Brant, “Why will you not tell us how you know so much about the Dark Warriors and the Dark Country?”

  Brant opened his mouth to answer, and then he looked at Oraeyn thoughtfully for a moment. When he finally spoke, it sounded as though he was choosing each word very carefully. “I will tell you this: I am on your side in this battle. I want Aom-igh to survive, and I will do everything in my power to further that goal. Arnaud,” Brant paused and looked at Kamarie, “your father, is my good friend, and I am in his service for a debt I owe. He, himself, is unaware that I owe him anything, which only makes my allegiance stronger.”

  All of them puzzled over Brant’s words. Kamarie was awed by his fervor but annoyed by his lack of clarity. To her, it seemed as though he was speaking in unsolvable riddles for no other reason than to irk them and glean amusement from their confusion.

  However, the truth of the matter was that Brant was not amused; he was watching Darby carefully as he spoke, and his demeanor became very cautious as he noted her reaction. She smiled at him, knowing that he was watching her, and then she nodded slowly as if to say, “I know who you are, and I know the meaning behind your words.”

  Brant shook himself and looked away. He found the older woman altogether too disconcerting. She seemed to know far too much. He knew that she did not look like anyone’s idea of a threat; she was short and round and looked very much like someone who did not really know what was going on much of the time. But this appearance seemed to work to her advantage almost too well. Her brown eyes were sparkling with intelligence, and she did not let much slip by her. Brant decided he would have to be careful of this woman, she had secrets about her.

  The night passed too quickly for all of them except, of course, for Brant. As they ate a quick, cold breakfast, Brant told them that they were coming close to the end of the mountains.

  “If we can move quickly, we should be able to reach the castle in three days.”

  Darby sighed. “I thought we were traveling quickly,” she muttered.

  “Three days? It took us a week to get to the mountains,” Kamarie’s voice rose in dismay.

  “I know I’ve been pushing you, but we all know how important it is to reach the castle before our enemies. I know shortcuts once we’re out of the mountains.”

  There were a few sighs as he spoke, but nobody voiced their complaint as they readied their horses and concealed their meager camp. Brant watched them each appraisingly. He was surprised at how quickly he had grown accustomed to their presence, how comfortable he felt with them. He tried to steel himself against such feelings; it was better not to get attached, better to be stone. However, he could not help but admire his companions. Although at first glance they did not seem to be anything special, they took his orders well, they did their best to keep up with the grueling pace he was setting, and they had not done much complaining. Brant could not keep the small smile from tugging at the corners of his lips. King Arnaud could be proud of his daughter, he thought. She had discipline, courage, compassion, and a smattering of diplomacy in her irrepressible personality. Kamarie would make a fine queen someday. Brant determined to tell Arnaud that when they reached the palace, if his old friend didn’t already know it.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Arnaud was puzzling over the rhyme. The second half of the poem made sense. He did not know who the “youth” was, but the sword it talked about was almost certainly the sword of the great King Llian. It was the first half of the rhyme, however, that was the mystery. He had written down the poem and showed it to Zara, but she had not been able to make any sense out of it either.

  “Are you still puzzling over that riddle?” Zara asked as she shivered into the room.

  It was early, and morning was peeking up over the western horizon. Pink streaks of light were causing the darkness of the night to appear pale and watery. The stars were winking out and the Dragon’s Eye was starting to rise up in all its blazing glory to replace the smaller, paler light of the Toreth.

  “I can’t figure this out,” Arnaud said wearily. “I know the answer is here, but I don’t have enough of the pieces to make sense of it. Who is the wanderer? What does it mean that the dragons will fly? The only part I understand is the part about the sword, and that only because it’s right there in the journal on the page before the prophecy.”

  Zara came and looked over his shoulder, reading aloud, “‘When day is swallowed by night,’ could we be the day and the Dark Country the night?” she asked. “Perhaps that line is talking about the danger we face now.”

  Arnaud nodded. “Yes, but I don’t like the word ‘swallowed’ then.”

  Zara managed a half smile that looked more like a grimace than a grin. “Ever seeing doom and destruction, aren’t you?”

  “No, not ever, just right now. As long as I expect the worst I cannot be taken by surprise, but I don’t know how much longer I can continue expecting the worst,” Arnaud sighed. “I don’t know what more I can do, and yet I fear that I am letting our people down.”

  Zara hugged him. “You take too much on yourself.”

  “This is our greatest time of need, and I have nothing. I have a riddle I don’t know the answer to. I have a vision of what is coming, and I cannot fight it. I have a country that is looking to me to protect them, and I have no idea how I am going to do so. Perhaps I am taking too much on myself, but there is no one else.”

  “Sir!” The door of the library opened and a young squire came rushing in, breathless and excited.

  “What is it?” Arnaud stood up, expecting to hear that the enemy had at last arrived and the waiting would finally end.

  “There are some people here to see you, your majesty, I told them… but they say their news is very important.”

  Arnaud was suddenly on guard. “Who is it?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know, I couldn’t see their faces because of their long cloaks, but there’s five of them. They all look as though they have been traveling for a while. They say that they must speak with you. Will you receive them?”

  King Arnaud furrowed his brow. “I will. Bring them to the Hall. I will meet them in ten minutes. If that is not acceptable to them, then send them on their way.”

  The squire bowed. “I will tell them, your majesty.”

  Queen Zara’s blue eyes searched Arnaud’s face questioningly. “Who do you think it is?”

  “I have no idea. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  Ten minutes later, King Arnaud and Queen Zara were in the Hall, waiting to see who these strangers were who sought an audience with them. The five cloaked figures entered and Arnaud was rendered speechless for a moment. Zara, however, sprang from her throne instantly and crossed the room in several quick strides, gathering her daughter in her arms and hugging her tightly.

  “Kamarie, you’re safe, and you’re home.”

  Kamarie smiled, hugging her mother back. “Yes,” she spoke quickly, “we must talk to you and father. I do not know how much you have learned about our enemy, but we have some information that is very important.”

  Arnaud approached, a little less quickly and also hugged his daughter tightly. Then he faced her with a questioning and worried look on his face.

  “I am glad to see you safely home, but I must admit I am a bit puzzled. I gave Oraeyn strict instructions. Could you not find Brant?”

  “Father,” Kamarie replied, “the situation is graver than we thought. Peak’s Shadow has been attacked and there is nothing left.”

  Arnaud felt his breath leave his chest and for a moment he found it hard to speak. “What? Nothing? What do you mean?”

  Kamarie lowered her eyes. “I think Brant should explain.”