“What offer?”
“If you and your son, Prince Eamon, will simply swear fealty to His Majesty and turn your Dracenstone over to him, he will graciously allow you to continue to rule Ephenee, and your son shall ascend to the throne in three years as planned.”
Karissa stared at him silently considering the offer. “And if we refuse?”
“Then His Imperial Majesty would have no choice but to invade and conquer this island. You would be deposed and a new king chosen, preferably from within the ranks of your nobility, but outside if necessary.”
Karissa smiled at the emissary. “I trust I shall be permitted time to consider His Majesty’s most gracious offer?” she asked diplomatically.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Mage replied.
“And in the meantime, I hope you and your men enjoy Epheneen hospitality and if you should want for anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Your Grace is most generous.” Mage bowed again at the waist as did the men behind him before backing away and leaving the room. Karissa turned to see Lord Tibor continuing to watch the doorway as if fearful the emissary would spring back inside at any moment.
Karissa stood gracefully and walked away, leaving through a door at the side of the dais and into a private room, with Prince Eamon following and Lord Tibor behind him. The room contained a group of chairs and the Queen Regent sighed deeply as she collapsed into one, leaning her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her head against her hand. Eamon rushed to her side. “It shall be alright, Mother,” he said confidently.
The door swung open and the Duchess Sibilus, Karissa’s mother, entered. She wore a conservative dove gray dress with long sleeves and a high neck. Her white hair was pulled up into a bun atop her head. She moved gracefully across the room and sat beside her daughter. Karissa turned to look at her. “What are we to do, Mother?”
Sibilus turned to Lord Tibor. “What are our chances of repelling an invasion, My Lord?” she asked
“It is hard to say without details of the invasions of the other kingdoms, but the rumor is that this Wizard has an army of drakmere. Draks are exceptional swimmers, but are notorious for disliking sea water. The salt bothers them. Our navy and coastal defenses can easily defend against a naval attack from Beagonia. However, if the Wizard possesses the naval forces of the Stromland, Avonvale, and Elophborne….” He let the rest of the sentence go unfinished.
“We must assume that he does,” Karissa said. “His terms are generous. Eamon will still be king.”
“You cannot bargain with the Dark One, my darling,” Sibilus cautioned.
“Oh, Mother, do not be so overly dramatic,” Karissa said. “This wizard is not the Dark One. He is an ambitious would-be Emperor. He is not the first to conquer lands nor shall he be the last.”
“No, my dear. He is the darkness, walking in flesh. His so-called emissary is a Shebath worshiper.”
“Are you sure?” Tibor asked.
Sibilus nodded. “I have seen them before. Astroff is sort of a title they use. It means priest or something, derived from the name of their original leader. The sooner we get him off of this island the better. He will probably spend the evening attempting to convince our young Epheneen girls to bed shedom for spawning little demons.”
Karissa shuddered at the thought. She wanted to believe her mother was joking, but she knew she was not. Sibilus was deeply religious and had served at the seraph temple in Caerwynspire before joining Karissa in Ephenee, following the passing of Karissa’s father. The clerics there claimed to be in constant struggles with Shebath worshipers, but the servants of darkness never revealed themselves.
“Then what do you propose we do?” Karissa asked.
“We must send Eamon south to Dracengard with our Dracenstone,” Sibilus answered.
Karissa stared unblinking at her mother. “You cannot be serious,” she said.
“Of course I am serious!” Sibilus snapped at her daughter. “We cannot allow the stone to fall into the hands of the disciples of Shebath!”
“Send my boy out there, alone?”
Sibilus laughed at her daughter. “Now, who is being overly dramatic?” she asked. “Eamon would hardly be alone. He would be surrounded by highly trained soldiers and sailors.”
“And what of us? Are we to resign ourselves to be a meal for draks?” Karissa asked. “We must assume that they can conquer our Kingdom.”
“We can also assume that we are not the Wizard’s highest priority right now,” Tibor said. “Is he willing to focus a massive naval campaign, where he is certain to lose thousands of troops, to capture our island? We are not a threat to him. It is likely that he will not attack us until he has secured his power elsewhere.”
“That is a gamble,” Karissa cautioned.
“All of our choices are gambles, Your Grace.”
Karissa looked deep into her son’s eyes and placed the palm of her hand gently against his cheek.
“I can do it, Mother,” he assured her. “I will use our Dracenstone to destroy this dark wizard.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close to her as tears began to stream down her face.
“He had the dragon dream this morning,” Sibilus said. “He came and told me first thing.”
Karissa squeezed her son tight. He was fighting back tears himself. He wanted to be strong. He was no longer a little boy. He had to be a man now. Karissa eventually let Eamon go and looked up at Tibor. “So, we shall tell this Shebath worshiper we decline,” she said.
“Well, there is no reason to be that forthcoming about it,” Tibor said with a smile. “Let us lead him along for a while, and buy more time.”
***
The next day Queen Regent Karissa once again sat upon her throne looking down at Mage Astroff. He smiled arrogantly, certain this woman would not have the courage to defy his master.
“Master Mage, please inform His Imperial Majesty that I would be more than happy to accept his most generous offer, after I have spoken to him myself.”
“Of course, Your Grace, but…”
Karissa cut him off. “I shall sail to Avonvale and shall discuss this matter with his Imperial Majesty in person,” she said.
Mage smiled. The Wizard would be happy to have such a beauty kneeling at his feet. He would probably even bed her, after making her beg for it. This would please his master greatly and Mage imagined his elevation once Mage brought this Queen Regent to him.
“Excellent idea, Your Grace,” he said. “When shall we depart?”
Karissa laughed. “Master Mage, it will take quite some time to organize such a journey. Be assured however, that we shall set sail within a few months.”
A few months? “Your Grace, His Imperial Majesty is anxious to have Ephenee in the fold now.”
“All due respect to His Majesty, but it is simply impossible to plan such a massive undertaking in a fortnight. I am quite sure His Majesty will understand.”
Mage frowned, but had no choice but to relent. He knew he had no hope of convincing her to leave earlier. “Very well, Your Grace,” he said. “Then I shall depart this afternoon. Thank you very much for the hospitality of your Kingdom.”
Karissa smiled kindly. “You are quite welcome,” she said. “Please return anytime and kindly tell His Majesty that I eagerly look forward to meeting him at long last.”
***
The next day Karissa stood in front of her son holding back her tears. She knew that if she began to cry then he would begin to cry and that would embarrass him terribly. A royal ship was prepared to leave to take him south to the Glass Sea and then Dracengard. Lord Tibor had offered to escort Eamon himself, but Karissa needed him to help her plan the defense of Ephenee in the event the Wizard invaded. Sibilus decided to accompany Eamon, and though Karissa would miss her, she was glad her mother would be there to look after her son. It would certainly make things easier for the boy.
Karissa hugged him tight against her bosom and kissed him lightly on top of his head. “Be care
ful, my darling,” she said.
“I shall, Mother,” he replied.
Karissa began to weep as her son boarded the ship and she remained on the dock watching as he sailed away, disappearing into the distance. He was all she had left of her late husband. Though she had adopted Ephenee as her home, it was Eamon who was truly of the island. She wiped her eyes and lifted her head. She could not fear for his safety, for the worry would drive her mad. She would concentrate on preparing for the defense of the kingdom, so that it would be here waiting for Eamon when he returned.
Chapter 5
Lady Anne stood regally upon a red carpet which had been rolled out into the castle courtyard at Avonvale. She detested the idea of her shoes touching dirt. She was to be Empress of the entire realm, after all. Anne looked elegant in a deep crimson dress which came off her shoulders and set off her ivory skin to perfection. Her reddish-gold hair was pulled up into an elegant chignon revealing her slender white neck. Upon her head sat a golden tiara embedded with sparkling red rubies. Her brother Morgan’s trusted knight, Sir Terrance, knelt on the ground at her feet. Sir Terrance was Commander of the City Guard, but Anne had ordered him to take a respite from those duties to lead a special mission for her. He was to ambush and destroy Theron Greynault’s remaining forces. Theron and his eldest son, Auguston, were dead of course, slain by Anne’s own hand, but his army still remained under the command of Theron’s second son, Breston. As long as they roamed the countryside, they remained a threat to her and her brother.
Before the Wizard departed on his journey to Elophborne, he made it clear that Anne would be responsible for directing this mission. Her brother Morgan now sat upon the throne of Avonvale, and by right should take command in military matters, but he had neither the stomach nor the cunning to do what needed to be done to consolidate and secure his, and by extension her, power. In fact, his failure to execute their cousin, Erec, allowed the Prince’s escape on the wings of a seraph warrior. That gave those still loyal to Alexandeon and his children hope that Erec would return to reclaim the throne. Anne intended to eradicate that hope once and for all.
Anne loved her brother. In fact, he was the only living person she did love. She had once loved another, a man Anne had almost convinced herself she had only been infatuated with, but never really loved. His memory had faded now as she chose to forget him. She had loved her late father of course, but not her mother. Never her mother. Lady Aville had loved and doted on Morgan, but had always been cold and distant with Anne. As a child Anne did not understand why, but as she grew older, she came to believe that it was because her mother was jealous of her. Jealous that Anne’s father loved Anne more than his wife. Jealous that Anne was so beautiful. Lady Aville was certainly not beautiful.
Anne looked down at Sir Terrance. He was a good and loyal subject. He had been very quick to realize that Anne was more than just sister of the King. He obeyed her every command and knelt at her feet as if she were already empress. She intended to reward his loyalty once he completed this mission. Perhaps she would steal him from her brother and make him Commander of the Imperial Guard once she became empress. That would be an honor indeed.
“Are you clear on your objectives?” Anne asked in a voice that was somehow both soft and firm.
“Yes, My Lady,” Sir Terrance replied without looking up.
“Remember,” Anne said, “I want Sephene brought back here alive.”
“As you command, My Lady,” Sir Terrance said. Anne was furious that Sephene had dared to call her a whore. She would teach that girl what a whore really was. Sephene would become a military concubine, servicing the Imperial soldiers. Anne smiled at the thought.
“You may rise,” Anne said and Sir Terrance stood. “I wish you a dracen's luck on your task.”
“Thank you, My Lady,” Sir Terrance replied. “Do not fear. I shall not fail you.”
“I have the utmost confidence,” Anne smiled. Sir Terrance bowed his head and then spun on his heel. He walked back to his horse which was held at the head of the column of five hundred cavalrymen reinforced by one thousand drakmere. The men had been organized from all of the nobles loyal to Morgan and were hand selected by Sir Terrance and his most trusted lancers. Anne watched as Sir Terrance mounted his charger and led the column of men and draks out of the gate and southward to destroy the Greynault forces.
***
The sun beat down on Sephene Greynault as she rode Foxtrot southward. The gentle mare had been given to her by Sir Terrance after he saved her from the jaws of a hungry drakmere. He had informed her where she could find her family’s forces before sending her on her way with a message for them.
Sephene leaned against the mare’s neck as it carried her along the dirt road. It had been an exhausting few days and she just wanted to lie down in her bed back at Castle Greynault and sleep for a week. Sephene continued to ride wearily and was not paying very close attention to where she was going, instead trusting in the mare not to walk off of a cliff or drown her in the river. Her eyelids were heavy and she kept drifting in and out of sleep.
Sephene was suddenly jerked awake by the gruff sound of a man’s voice. “Halt!” the voice shouted at her. Sephene’s eyes popped open as she sat upright in the saddle. She saw five armored soldiers with long lances blocking the road before her. Sephene quickly yanked Foxtrot’s reins to halt the mare as commanded. “Who are you, and where are you going?” demanded one of the men as he approached her. Sephene began to panic. She tried to make Foxtrot turn around, but the horse did not appear motivated to do so very quickly. Sephene’s gaze fell upon the lancers and she noticed the wolf’s head painted on their shields and let out a sigh of relief. It was her father’s men.
“Thank the seraph,” she said. “I am Sephene Greynault,” she announced as the relief turned to excitement and the men glanced at one another.
“Lady Sephene,” the lancer walking toward her began, “my deepest apologies. I did not recognize you.”
Sephene waved his concerns away with her hand. “Do not worry, I have been away for a long time. Would you kindly escort me to my brother?” she asked.
“Of course, m’Lady,” the lancer replied. “He will be very relieved to see you. We have feared for your safety.” The lancer took Foxtrot by the bridle and led the mare down the road. They crossed two more check points, each more heavily guarded than the last, before finally reaching the camp. Sephene surveyed the camp, seeing an ocean of tents. The infantry had converged with the cavalry and consolidated their forces. The lancer led the horse through the camp, halting just outside of the command tent. He then assisted Sephene in dismounting her horse. Once on the ground, Sephene opened the saddlebags and removed the letter Sir Terrance had written to her brother. She thanked the lancer as he led the horse away to be fed, watered, and brushed. Sephene pushed the flap of the command tent back and stepped inside.
Breston Greynault was flanked by his infantry commander, Sir Stanlas, and his cavalry commander, Sir Galt, as they stood hunched over a large map of the area. Since the death of his father and older brother, Breston was now Lord of Greynault. Sephene watched him for a moment. He had grown so much since the last time she had seen him. He was a man now, discussing military strategy with two seasoned veterans.
“Breston,” Sephene said softly. All three men glanced up from the map and saw her. Breston’s eyes grew wide as a gleeful smile spread across his face.
“Sephene!” he shouted excitedly. He rushed around the table and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off of the ground and spinning her around. “You are alright,” he said as he set her back down on the ground.
“Barely,” she said. “Is is true?” she asked. “Are Father and Auguston dead?”
Breston pulled away and looked at her, as his smile disappeared. He nodded and she hugged him once more, burying her face in his shoulder. “We are not sure what happened. Father’s heart failed and then later that night, Auguston was murdered in his bed. Lady Anne was in the camp,
but she disappeared. We do not know if she was kidnapped by the murderers or was part of the plot to kill Auguston,” he said.
Sephene pulled away from her brother and looked at all three men as she wiped tears from her face. “Anne murdered them both. She admitted so herself.” The men shook their heads in disbelief. “She poisoned father and then murdered Auguston.”
“But to what end?” asked Breston.
“She and her brother have decided to support the Wizard. Morgan has been named King of Avonvale and Anne is to wed the Wizard. She intends to rule the entire realm as Empress.”
“I cannot believe they have betrayed their own family to deliver Avonvale into the hands of a bunch of draks,” Sir Stanlas said.
“Believe it,” Sephene said. “Anne tried to feed me to a drak herself.” The men gasped. “Luckily, Morgan’s man, Sir Terrance, rescued me.”
“Why would would Morgan’s man come to your rescue?”
“I do not think he wishes to serve a king that allows drakmere to feed upon his own people,” she said. “He asked that I give this to you,” she told Breston as she handed him the sealed note.
“And what of your cousins, Prince Erec and his sisters?” asked Sir Galt as Breston broke the seal and began to read.
“Sir Terrance said that Erec is still alive. I am unsure about Terrwyn and Taite.”
Breston finished reading the letter and then handed the paper to Sir Stanlas. “Tell us what you know, sister,” he said. “We need to know everything.”
Chapter 6
The Wizard sat upon the throne at the palace in Elwood surveying the courtiers gathered before him. The nobles were all in attendance and the throne room was full of both humans and draks. The Wizard was displeased. He had journeyed from Avonvale to Elwood to see his newest prize—the Kingdom of Elophborne—and watch the soon-to-be King kneel down and swear fealty to him, but by the time he arrived, Prince Willem had fled, taking not only his Dracenstone, but Princess Terrwyn of Avonvale and Prince Tybalt of the Stromland with him. They had been allowed to slip through his fingers and the Wizard was furious.
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