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

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Yole suppressed a smile. “My name is Y... Ian,” he said, catching himself just an instant before he slipped and gave away his real name.

  “Y...ian? Marvelous!” The minstrel said, “And my name is K... iernan K... ane. Kiernan Kane the Magnificent Minstrel, they call me in the large cities, (they also throw rotten fruits and vegetables at me, just goes to show how unappreciated I am) but you can call me Kiernan.”

  Yole laughed, but did not correct the man about his name, finding it all too funny for words and, yet, he wasn’t too sure that the man needed correcting.

  “Now, where are you headed my boy?”

  Yole pointed. “Towards the Harshlands.”

  “Splendid! Wonderful! I am headed there myself. There is a witch-queen living in the Harshlands, and I thought that since nobody else likes my singing or my juggling, that I would travel to see her and perhaps she will like one or two of my jokes and hire me as her jester or something… I really am getting tired of not being able to find a steady job. Or at the very least, she will give me something to eat. Hopefully she won’t turn me into anything nasty.”

  Yole brightened at Kiernan’s words. “Could I travel with you to the Harshlands?”

  Kiernan grinned at him, looking very much like a youth just out of school. “I was just about to suggest that myself,” he said, “in fact, I insist upon it! Perhaps I will even teach you how to juggle and do front flips! Then we could really have a show for the dreaded witch-queen of the Harshlands.”

  “She’s not a witch,” Yole said, “she’s a wizardess.”

  Kiernan stood up, curiosity in his eyes, looking for all the world like a long-legged frog. When he had finished unfolding himself and managed to stand up straight, Yole wondered how the man had managed the feat with such speed. Kiernan looked so ungainly that it seemed that he would fall over at any moment

  “Whatever you say my boy, witch, queen, or wizardess perhaps she won’t turn us into toads before giving us a bit of bread and perhaps a sip of tea. Maybe she will even ask to see our show! I don’t mind being turned into a toad so long as I can have a last meal and a last chance to strum a few notes on my mandolin!” Kiernan began to climb up into his cart.

  “What’s a mand... mandolin?” Yole asked in curiosity as he clambered up into the cart next to Kiernan.

  “What is a …!” Kiernan trailed off as he stared at the boy in horror. “Why, Y... ian! The mandolin is the trade instrument of all minstrels and jesters and even the high court bards! I myself am quite good at playing the thing, although I may not good be enough to be a court bard, not yet anyway. Well, hop on up here into the cart, and we shall be off and away into the fair light of the failing Dragon’s Eye yonder. Gee-yup, Silver!” he shouted loudly at the old mule that was pulling the cart.

  The donkey, whose coat could be called gray but was nothing like silver, glanced over his shoulder with a look that closely resembled that of patient exasperation and bemusement. Then the faithful animal began pulling with gentle and steady steps, going at a slow and easy pace.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Ships had continued to arrive in Roalthae transporting hoards of Dark Warriors, or at least that was what King Arnaud was told. His intelligence network informed him of the frantic efforts being expended to prepare the ships of war in the Port of Roalthae.

  Apparently the Dark Country was readying their final assault against Aom-igh. Attacks against their villages had ceased, and although a relief, it was also a concern. Where were the marauders? What was their purpose? Surely they had not simply disappeared.

  King Arnaud walked along the high wall that allowed him to look beyond his castle keep, and his gaze was drawn to where the Dragon’s Eye was rising over the sea. He studied his soldiers as they kept their vigil, and he smiled with pride.

  “Majesty?” a voice pulled Arnaud out of his thoughts.

  “What is it Garen?” he asked, turning towards the older knight.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Arnaud looked sharply into his face as he heard the quiet and serious tone. “What?”

  “I know I shouldn’t have, but I’ve spent the past few years training young Kamarie to be a squire. She begged me so to teach her to ride and use a sword and to keep it all a secret, well; I couldn’t bear to let her down. I thought some of the skills might be useful to a princess, and I always meant to put an end to the lessons when she got older, but somehow, I never could turn her away. I know I should have told you right from the start, but I just couldn’t seem to work up the courage, and I couldn’t break my promise. But I did want to tell you about it before the Dark Warriors get here because I might not get another chance to do so.”

  Arnaud did laugh now, and clapped a hand down on Garen’s shoulder. “I noticed you’d been quiet lately. That is what has been worrying you? You’ve been feeling guilty about this?”

  The knight nodded.

  Arnaud sobered, seeing that his oldest and most trusted advisor was about to take offense at his laughter. “Garen, I am not laughing at you. I’ve known about your secret training of my daughter since her first lesson. I watched when Kamarie would climb down the trellis from her room to the stable yard. I watched you teaching her how to wield a sword and shoot a bow and I’ve also seen her clout you a few times on the head with a staff in the more recent days. Kamarie needed this training, and more importantly she needed the secret. The life of a princess, much like that of a king, is on public display at all times, and her time with you has helped her endure the trials of that responsibility. Your confession just now has simply given me the opportunity to thank you. I always knew she was in good hands. The one you really need to be worried about is what Zara or Dy... Darby will say.”

  “You are thanking me?”

  Arnaud nodded. “You were right, the things you’ve taught her are useful skills for a princess. She ought to know how to track an animal or enemy through the forest, she ought to know how to ride a horse and defend herself. She wanted to be a squire so badly, and she thought that I would refuse if she asked me outright. I can’t say whether I would have refused or not, but to tell you the truth, the only reason I felt comfortable sending her off the way I did was because I was confident that she could take care of herself. I couldn’t very well come out and say that I knew what Kamarie was doing, though; Zara would have my ears if she found out I knew about all this and did not put a stop to it. Zara is very protective, as you well know, and she wouldn’t want Kamarie doing anything she thinks is dangerous. So perhaps we had better continue to keep this particular secret.”

  Garen let a smile appear on his stern face, but then sobered again. “There’s one other thing, Majesty.”

  Arnaud sighed. “More skeletons, Garen? And call me Arnaud: it’s my name, and there are too many years in our friendship for all that bowing and scraping between us.”

  Garen chuckled; he had been a knight of the realm since a few years before Arnaud had been given the throne. He still remembered the day the youth had been all but dragged to the castle to take the throne. The lad had not wanted anyone calling him “Majesty” or “Highness” then either.

  “Kamarie doesn’t intend to become a knight.”

  “I see. But you think I should encourage her to take the test anyway?”

  “It could be a very valuable asset if she ever has to rule the kingdom alone.”

  “Well, we shall see what happens. If there is still a kingdom to rule when all this is over, we will discuss it further.”

  “You don’t think we stand a chance, do you, Sire?”

  “I have to believe we stand a chance. I’m the king. I don’t have the luxury of doing otherwise.”

  “We are all standing behind you, Arnaud. We’ll fight and live for you and Aom-igh. We will not easily be defeated.”

  Arnaud smiled. “Thank you, Garen. I know.”

  chapter

  FIFTEEN

  “Leila! Open this door at on
ce!”

  At the loud pounding and the shouts demanding entry, the great wooden doors to the stone mansion swung slowly inwards, and Leila stood in the doorway. Leila took one wide-eyed look at her visitor, and then pulled her inside, shutting the door quickly.

  “What is it Dylanna? What brings you all the way out here?” she asked, motioning for her sister to sit down while she went for tea. “And why have you suspended your illusion?”

  Dylanna began to sit down but the angry yowl of a cat startled her. She jumped and stared down at the long furred, gray body curled up on the chair. The cat glared at her with a look that could have frozen fire, anger and wounded pride glowed in the green eyes that bored haughtily into her own.

  “Leila!” Dylanna exclaimed in frustration.

  Leila looked up, then grinned. “Oh, that’s Shandy’s chair, sorry. Try the green one. I think Switch is out hunting, so you should be able to sit there in peace.”

  Dylanna shook her head as she sank down gratefully in the unoccupied chair. “I do believe you think more of animals than you do of humans sometimes.”

  Leila busied herself with pouring the tea and then breezed over towards her sister with steaming refreshment. Dylanna watched her younger sister with a small smile; she looked so out of place, pouring tea without spilling it all over the place. Leila had always been the wild one. Her magic rarely worked indoors. She hated doing things like sitting around sipping tea when there were wondrous trees to climb outside, just calling her to play. Leila had always been the child of the family, though Zara was truly the youngest. Leila was the innocent, the easily delighted, the whimsical one, especially when it came to animals.

  She had always surrounded herself with animals both wild and domestic, although Scelwhyn had made a strict rule that no animal was allowed inside the house. Leila, of course, had broken that rule often, smuggling little creatures up to her room and opening her windows to allow birds to fly in and out freely. However, if Scelwhyn had known about any of it, and Dylanna doubted that there was any way he could not have known, he never said anything.

  Leila had striven to learn the language of the wild things. It had been her special dream. Scelwhyn had told the girl that it was a hopeless task, but Leila had a stubborn streak that would not allow her to give up. Even now, Dylanna was amazed at how completely Leila seemed to understand animals, and they seemed to understand her as well. The animals had always flocked to her, and even now creatures of all shapes and sizes always found their way to Leila’s home.

  Finally, Leila sat down across from Dylanna, shooing Shandy out of her chair. The big gray cat tried to assert his right to the chair, but Leila fixed him with a violet-eyed glare equal to his own. Finally, Shandy stepped off of the chair. He moved regretfully with a kingly air of wounded pride at being thrown out so cruelly, but he left. Leila smiled after him fondly, shaking her head, and then she sat forward and rested her chin on her hands. Once again, Dylanna was amazed at how young Leila looked.

  “Now, what has brought you out of your disguise, and particularly, what has brought you here to the Harshlands?”

  Dylanna smothered a laugh; her younger sister never had been able to comprehend the notion of small talk. Direct and to the point, Leila was and probably always would be. Dylanna forced herself to return to the present. Her face and voice turned serious.

  “Calyssia has left the Pearl Cove.”

  Leila gasped in shock. “But she took an oath! She took an oath never to leave that place. She has to stay in the Cove lest the power that holds the shield together be broken completely. It was her final promise to Graldon, though it took her long enough to get around to keeping it. She vowed never to leave until…” Leila trailed off as the meaning of Dylanna’s words sank in. “You mean she has gone back to the sea?”

  Dylanna nodded quietly. “She must have been losing strength. She seemed different when we saw her, she must have known then that she was dying.”

  “You spoke with her? You saw her? When?”

  “A few days before she returned to the sea. She led us into Krayghentaliss, and while we were down there the Dark Warriors invaded the Cove, and she took the last chance that she had to leave. I can’t imagine she would have left her people in danger if she hadn’t been near death.”

  “What? Dark Warriors? Why would they invade Pearl Cove? Dylanna... you aren’t telling me something.”

  “Forgive me.” Dylanna closed her eyes and took a sip of her tea. “I’m tired, and I’m not doing a good job explaining. Let me start at the beginning.”

  Dylanna told her younger sister of all that had happened since the first hints of the invasion had reached King Arnaud’s ears. Leila hung on every word, asking questions throughout. The night grew late, until Dylanna finally finished speaking. They sat together in silence for a few moments, and then Leila shook herself.

  “How incredibly rude of me!” she exclaimed in dismay. “You must be weary, dear sister.”

  Dylanna sighed as her long travels mixed with concern for her companions, reminding her again of the exhaustion she had been fighting off for so long.

  Leila directed her sister to a guest chamber that was “animal free.”

  “Go get some rest, and in the morning we can set guiding-wards for the princess and her companions so that they will have no trouble finding my house.”

  Dylanna walked up the stairs to the bedroom that her sister had mentioned. She was relieved to see that the room was, in fact, free of cats, and all other wildlife for that matter. She flopped down on the big bed and fell into a deeper sleep than she had for days, finally feeling safe enough to let her guard down.

  The next morning, Dylanna came downstairs. The night of sleep had done wonders for her, and she had awoken feeling refreshed. She found herself noticing the interesting decorating job that her sister had done. The house was a strange dichotomous maze of nooks and corners alongside great open rooms. Dylanna was sure that there was a secret passageway or two in the meandering floor plan. The house was decorated with flowers and vines and the walls were all painted in soothing, earthy tones. The entire place had a very outdoorsy feel about it.

  Dylanna found that the good night’s sleep had also restored her ability to worry about her companions and had brought to memory another question she had for her sister. Leila smiled at her as she came down the long, winding staircase. When Dylanna explained her request, Leila looked at her oddly.

  “Show it to me,” she commanded.

  Dylanna produced the silver pipes that Rhendak had given to them. Leila took them and turned them over in her hands, examining the instrument from all angles. She marveled at the craftsmanship of the pipes, but then handed them back to Dylanna with a regretful sigh.

  “I cannot play them,” she said, shaking her head. “The dragon magic cancels out my own, or perhaps it is the other way around, but either way, the instrument is useless in my hands. Pity too, for they are beautiful and just looking at them inspires an odd longing to hear them.”

  Dylanna nodded, looking upset. “That is what I had found. I believe the pipes were not meant for wizards. But then who can play them? Surely the dragons would not have given us a useless gift.”

  Leila smiled. “Perhaps you already know who can play them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The dragons would not have given you a tool that they knew you were incapable of using, so they must have believed someone in your group had the ability to play the instrument,” Leila said.

  Dylanna shook her head in confusion. “But who?”

  Leila shrugged. “From what you have told me, any one of the people you have been traveling with could be qualified to play the thing. Oraeyn already holds the sword of the Great King Llian, so we know that he can use the gifts of the dragons. Yole himself is a dragon, so he would most likely be able to play them. Brant is the only person you have told me nothing about, but from what you have said, it seems as though he would prob
ably be able to play them as well. But if Kamarie is, as you and Zara think, the first dragon ward born in a century, then it may be she is the one that the pipes were intended for, but...”

  Dylanna interrupted, “But we do not know for sure that she is a dragon-ward or not. She seems to have inherited your way with animals, but that could mean anything or nothing. As she grows older, I begin to think that our hopes for that will not come to pass through Kamarie. She exhibits none of the signs, and she has now met with several dragons and shows none of the restlessness that comes to a dragon-ward after meeting dragons for the first time. I am not ruling it out completely, but I no longer believe Kamarie is a dragon-ward. No, I don’t believe the pipes are meant for her, although if you think it wise, I will indeed give them to Kamarie. I just don’t want to give them to the wrong person.”

  Leila shrugged. “I was not suggesting that you do anything quite so reckless or hasty as that. You did not let me finish. I was about to mention that the dragons are more patient and thus more far-sighted than we, it has something to do with their sense of time. They know someone is destined for these pipes and for now, they have been entrusted to your care. I do not think you will be able to give them away in error. Perhaps they have seen someone in the future who will be able to play them. It may be a survivor from Pearl Cove. If anyone alive in Aom-igh is close enough to the dragons to be touched by their magic, it would be the inhabitants of Calyssia’s realm.”

  Dylanna was intrigued. “That’s true. You could very well be right. I suppose I must carry them a while longer.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, sister, the gifts of the dragons tend to make their own choices about whom they will call.”

  Dylanna nodded slowly. “This is also true. For once you actually have a point that is grounded in common sense.”