by SJ Himes
It took Jaime a moment, but he soon realized that the tunnels were built within and under the multiple wings of the palace. At each end of every tunnel was a gate that could be swung shut and guards. In case of attack, if the enemy made it past the tall stone walls of the palace, they would become trapped in the tunnels unless they breached the buildings first. The skylights above that provided light could just as easily be turned into murder holes—places where boiling pitch could be poured or arrows shot into invaders from above. Jaime shivered, thankful when Maxim tugged him closer.
Jaime resolved to do more than trail after Greaves once they returned to the healers’ wing. He knew nothing of this country he was in, aside from the patches of random information he got from overhearing the servants talking, or snippets from master Eames. This place was Taliesin City, but what country? Was this land at war with another? Had slavery always been outlawed here? Maxim might be the youngest, but surely he had more duties than dinners and festivals, and why was Maxim spending so much time with Jaime? The need to know the answer to that last question drove him nearly mad, but every time he thought to ask, Maxim distracted him with his mere presence, and his courage failed him.
The tunnel they were in ended as abruptly as the first, jettisoning them out into a wide, flat area, the main entrance to the palace behind them and the great walls to the front. When Jaime had been brought to the palace weeks before, he had been thrown up behind Captain Marcus on his mount, and they entered the grounds through the entrance used by the guards. He’d yet to see the main public entrance, and it was magnificent. Walls taller than he could imagine rose to seemingly touch the sky, the same gray and white as the clouds above. The gates were at least two thirds the height of the walls; there was a stone section of the wall that went over the gates, and two towers rose on either side. The mechanisms to close and open the gates were built into the wall itself, and a gate house stood to the left, chains thicker than a man’s waist rising from the roof to enter the wall beside the gates. He had no idea how any of it functioned, but he had the impression it was a complicated matter, and he gave thanks there were more interested parties in charge of the entire situation.
Their sleigh joined a long procession of similar vehicles seeking to leave the palace grounds, and an extravagant conveyance yielded to them when the prince was recognized. Maxim lifted a gloved hand in thanks, and they continued, the jangle of harnesses and bells filling the chill air. It was bright and sunny, and Jaime shielded his eyes as best he could from the glare. Sunlight reflected off every icy surface, making it hard to see.
“Pull your hood up,” Maxim said in his ear, and Jaime flushed, cheeks stinging in the cold.
“Where are we going?” Jaime managed to work out as he pulled his hood up, blocking some of the intense light.
“Just outside the gates are the municipal gardens that lie between the city and castle walls, and the festival is held in the center field of the gardens. Everyone can come, and courtiers and commoners alike mingle and enjoy the fun.”
The sleigh went through the gates, and sound echoed in the vast space. The walls were thick, far thicker than Jaime could comprehend, man having had a hand in their construction. His home city had walls made of wood and stone, and they needed repairs every spring after the harsh winters by the sea. Here the walls were smooth and made of large, symmetrical blocks, and he felt small and inconsequential as they exited the palace grounds. Ahead was a maze of tents and booths in cleared areas free of snow, and the sleighs were dropping their passengers off at different points along the outside of the festival.
Their sleigh stopped at the edge of the festival behind a large set of wooden stands with a blue canopy at the top. The fabric snapped in the wind, servants tying down the sides and bustling about.
Maxim jumped down from the sleigh, armor jangling. Jaime handed him his mug of cider, and Maxim drained it swiftly. A pair of servants wearing royal colors came and stood at attention, and Maxim handed off his empty mug. “Drink yours or bring it, love,” Maxim said with a wide grin. “We have some place to be.”
Jaime grabbed his mug and tried to drink it as fast as Maxim had but he could only manage a few mouthfuls before coughing. Maxim took his mug and finished off his cider, warming Jaime at the thought of their mouths having touched the same cup. He blushed, and Maxim grinned as he tossed the second mug to a servant. Maxim held up a hand, and Jaime took it, the prince helping him down from the sleigh. Jaime caught some teasing expressions and a jaunty wink from one of the servants, and his blush went on to become an inferno, his cheeks aflame.
Jaime exited the sleigh, and the driver snapped the whip again, the noise enough to move the strange beastie onward. “What animal is that?” Jaime asked, as Maxim tucked his hand into the crook of his arm and began leading him away. More sleighs approached, one a large and complicated conveyance that was pulled by four of the same creatures, these a dark brown with white tipped ears and tufts of fur over their oddly split hooved feet.
“Those are highland oryxes. The oryx is a native mountain species here in Pyrderi. The females don’t grow horns like the males and have better temperaments. The males we keep in pastures and use for stud purposes.”
“They look like giant goats but with bigger, higher shoulders and a longer neck.”
Maxim nodded. “Our stable masters tell me they are related to wild goats and antelopes. They get much larger in the wild. The ones that live in the mountains are big enough to carry armored knights. They need to be that big to fend off the gryphons that hunt them.”
Maxim led Jaime between the tall stands on the left and a smaller tent on the right. He was trying to take it all in but the prince’s comment distracted him. “The gryphons? You’ve mentioned them before. Are there really gryphons in the wild around the palace?”
Maxim took him to a set of tall stairs, motioning for him to go ahead. “The gryphons disappeared when my grandfather was a young boy. He told me the mages placed a spell on the palace to force the gryphons away, so our enemies could not use them in the Great War. Later, the royal historians found the records of the magi who were responsible for casting the spells. They were cast to keep them wild and safe from mankind’s penchant for violence. Too many of the gryphons died in combat. Feathers are flammable, and the gryphons aren’t equipped with fireproof scales like dragons. The species was dying out here in Pyrderi; so at my great-grandfather’s request, the mages released the gryphons back into the wild and cast the aversion spell.”
“Does that mean I’ll never see one?” Jaime was both saddened and relieved by the prince’s story. He’d seen the majestic beasts in history books and in artwork around the palace. Lion and eagle-like, the gryphons were large, beautiful creatures covered in thick layers of fur and feathers with wings strong enough to carry them over mountains. He was saddened to think of them being shot down by arrows or set aflame in war. Something so wondrous deserved to be protected.
“On clear days from the highest turrets, we can catch occasional glimpses of the wild ones flying in the mountain range to the east. They never come closer than the edge of the grounds, though. Sometimes livestock will go missing in the spring, but the crown reimburses farmers for any losses due to gryphons. We don’t want the people turning on them or trying to hunt them down, since that would end badly for both sides. It’s rare though; so there isn’t much grumbling about the hunting ban on the beasts.”
They reached the higher portion of the stands, and Jaime found himself mute with nerves as Maxim gently guided him under the canopy to the seating area that overlooked a wide square filled with people and equipment. In the space was an opulent arrangement of upholstered seats and chaises, with braziers burning merrily, tables covered in platters of food and chalices of wine and water, and cider brewing in the heated cauldron over a small fire. The sides of the tent obscured the wind, and the braziers kept it warm enough he was comfortable, despite the chill in the air.
They weren’t the first to ar
rive. A handful of servants waited upon a man and woman, both of a similar age to Maxim, maybe a year or so older. They looked very like the prince, and each other. The woman was dressed in a dark blue dress edged in gray fur, and her hair was swept up, a metal barrette shaped like feathers and small bells holding her thick waves of honey brown strands in place. Her brother was dressed in the same colors, wearing a gambeson edged in gray fur, thick woolen breeches, and knee high dark brown boots. Neither was armed like Maxim; the older man had a slim dagger on his hip, but nothing to match the sword that adorned Maxim’s hip. A quick glance at his hands revealed a lack of scars, but there were curious signs of ink stains around nail cuticles.
Maxim waved at the two strangers, who smiled back. “Jaime, this is my brother Elric and my sister Diana. They’re twins, my elders by three years. Our mutual older brother is Janis, and he’s the crown prince. He should be here any moment. Elric, Diana, this is the healer novice I mentioned a few days ago, James Buchanan.”
Elric stood and held out his hand to Jaime, smiling. Jaime took it in a daze. His hands were soft but curiously strong, with a scholarly calluses along his fingers. “Hello, Jaime. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Palace rumors do not do you justice. Are you tired of dealing with Maxie’s flirtations yet? He’s rather devoted to you already if bringing you along is any indication.”
Jaime had no response to the prince. The words had come too fast, and were so unlike anything he might have expected that he was left speechless. The princess was smiling at him, and Prince Elric grinned wide when Jaime sputtered for a reply. Maxim grumbled under his breath before poking at his older brother’s shoulder. Jaime took his chance to let go of Elric’s hand. “Elric, leave him alone. He’s a sweet soul who isn’t up for exchanging sharp words with a sassy prince.”
“Not yet,” Prince Elric said with a wry twist to his lips. There was a teasing light in his eyes, eyes that were very like Maxim’s. The twins looked near identical themselves, even though they were fraternal. Maxim bore a strong resemblance to his siblings. Happy to at last know their names, Jaime tried his best not to squeak in alarm when Princess Diana got up from her seat beside her twin and approached Jaime.
“Hello, Jaime. I’m happy to meet you at last. Maxim has been positively besotted with you since the day the Captain Marcus rescued you from the slavers. I want to apologize for what you experienced. Slavery is an enduring evil beyond our borders, and though it is illegal here in Pyrderi, our neighbors avoid our borders and ports and the reach of our military.” She gave him a gracious smile, but her words hit like small stones kicked up by a passing carriage. Jaime swallowed, throat tight, and she continued on, hopefully oblivious to his turmoil. “I am thankful for the storm that forced the ship into port, the one carrying you and those other unfortunate souls. I can tell you that we provided them with paid passage home or found them jobs here in Taliesin City.”
Jaime was flabbergasted. He had wondered and worried, but he knew none of the other men who’d been chained and whipped into submission in the hold of that foul ship. Each man was worried for their own survival, and forming bonds was a fast way to get a beating from the slavers. Six months of torture, starvation, and humiliation threatened to creep back into his waking mind, and Jaime shuddered.
“Give him some room, Diana.” Maxim asked, and his sister nodded, soft regret filling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaime, that was thoughtless of me.” She backed away and sat beside Elric. The older prince gave Jaime a short nod then spoke softly to his twin, their dark heads bent to each other.
His hands were cold, and he felt like getting sick. Jaime found himself sitting in a comfortable chair, a blanket covering his lap. “Are you well? Diana meant nothing by it, and Elric speaks and never thinks beforehand. I am sorry.”
“I am fine,” Jaime whispered, then licked his lips and spoke with more strength. “I am fine, Your Highness.”
Maxim sighed, but Jaime flicked a quick glance toward the royal twins. Maxim refrained from rolling his eyes, and Jaime had a moment of amusement at his prince and his struggle to control his expression.
Jaime gripped the fur blanket, giving his hands something to do. Maxim didn’t sit, instead walking to the bannister that overlooked the stands below them and the open field. “Is Janis going to open the ceremony or…” Maxim was interrupted from his musing by the sound of heavy boots on the stairs. A tall man entered with guards at his back. He was taller than both Maxim and Elric by a few inches, and his shoulders were wider. Where Elric and Maxim were muscled but lean, this man was muscled and solid, a bear in armor. Not at all overweight or indolent—he was all muscle and thick with it. No fat, from what Jaime could discern, and the main’s hair was a thick chestnut and sported light gray strands at his temples.
“Janis!” Maxim exclaimed with cheer, and the bigger prince swept Maxim up in a huge hug. “How was the trip overseas?”
“The Corainians are as stuck up as their king, and the Helleborian delegates are actually human. The trade summit was a success, though I didn’t much like the feel I got from the Eistrean ambassador. They aren’t too friendly when it comes to cultures that don’t hold the same strict views as they do. It’s a shame they’re our closest neighbor.”
Janis noticed Jaime’s presence just as he finished, and his brows went up. Jaime blushed, feeling like he’d heard something the royals might not appreciate being public knowledge. “And who is this?”
“Janis,” Maxim introduced, stepping back to Jaime’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder, keeping him seated. “This is James Buchanan, healer trainee.”
Janis eyed the way Maxim had his hand resting on Jaime’s shoulder, and he humphed out a rough exhale. Janis waved to the guards, who disappeared into the shadows below the canopy. “Healer, eh? Do you have the gift, lad?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered, nervous. Prince Janis was a big man, and the sword on his hip was bigger than the one Maxim wore.
“Good,” the Crown Prince replied. “We can never have too many healers with the gift.” Janis stared at him for a long moment, but soon he sent his regard to his other siblings, moving to hug Diana and slap Elric on the shoulder. Jaime felt he’d just escaped a predator, though Janis was dressed much the same as Maxim—a sword on one hip, a fine dagger on the other, and his armor was much the same as his younger brother’s. Both men wore their weapons like extensions of their bodies, their armor well-tended but showing some polished signs of use in the forms of mended slashes and scores in the metal. Apparently neither prince kept themselves out of the fray.
Where Maxim was in greens and blues and silvers, Janis was in dark blues with a hint of silver. A shiny brooch shaped like feathers pinned his cloak at his shoulders, and his longish hair was tied back with a diamond and silver clasp. The crown prince wore nothing more to distinguish his station, though his bearing clearly proclaimed his rank. He moved like he owned the world.
Janis was also noticeably older than the three younger royals. There appeared to be at least ten to fifteen years between the twins and Janis, and they were three years older than Maxim. Jaime wondered if perhaps they had different mothers. From what he’d gleaned since his stay in the castle, the king was old enough to be Maxim’s grandfather. It made sense that the crown prince would be substantially older than his younger siblings if they didn’t share the same mother, and their father was truly that old. Jaime hadn’t heard anything about a queen passing, but then he hadn’t really tried to do more than breathe since Captain Marcus rescued him at the docks. His knowledge of local history was abysmal.
“How was the journey home?” Diana asked her older brother, handing Janis a goblet of mulled wine.
“It was calm in Egret Bay. Corinthia was warmer than here, for certain. Once we got past Marlec Pointe it got rough again, but the seas settled again in the Strait of Dylan.” Janis drained his goblet swiftly, handing it off to one of the ubiquitous servants who hovered along the edges of the canopy.
At the name of the city where Jaime spent years of his life at the academy, he jolted. Maxim sat beside him, and took his hand in a gentle grip. Jaime gave Maxim a grateful smile and held on tightly. He spent a good many happy years in Corinthia, blissfully unaware that his father mortgaged their whole future to make sure Jaime went to school to learn the healing craft. The city was on the sea as well, on the edge of Egret Bay where it met the Sea of Iscandis. Egret Bay was a smaller sea that lay nestled between the outcropping of the southern edge of the Hellebore Empire and Corainia to the far west. Winter was shared by all the lands across the Straits, and a thousand miles of sea separated the two continents at the southernmost part of the Straits. A decent ship and an experienced crew could travel between the two lands in a matter of days, but the seas grew more turbulent the closer one got to the open waters outside of the protection of the Straits.
He was in Pyrderi, the country to the east of Eistrea across the Straits of Dylan. He had been born and raised in Marlec Pointe, a small offshoot city on the very southeast corner of Eistrea where it met the sea and the Straits. Sent to school in the west, at Corinthia, another port city on the very southwestern point of the Helleborian Empire. When he had returned home to Marlec, he had been taken by slavers and held in the bowels of ships as they slowly made their way north, stopping frequently at the many tiny island nations that littered the Straits. Some islands were beholden to either Eistrea or Pyrderi, the few larger islands maintaining independence from either country. The world he knew was vast, but it only felt like he was waking up to the wider world when confronted by people who had been there, and seen more than a small healers’ school and a superstitious, greedy city by the sea.
Jaime shuddered again, pulling the heavy furs higher, realizing that his destination on the slave ship may have been the Red Ice Isle, a hostile, nearly inhospitable place at the northernmost edge of the Strait where the seawater met the endless, impassable expanse of icebergs and calving sheets of glaciers. On Red Ice Isle, mines existed that were operated by slaves, criminals, and the mentally unstable, the undesirables from around the world, pulling resources from the frozen earth and shipping them southward.
