King Pallan paused. “I have come here for your help; I have lost the throne.”
Conrad trembled and mouthed, ‘Lost the throne?’
King Pallan dipped his head solemnly. “Lost the throne. A brigand—a lawless and despicable man—has taken possession of it by force. A small regiment of mine, the column you see before you tonight, escaped him and fled into the surrounding countryside. The man’s name is Ibren; King Ibren.”
Conrad replied promptly, “Never heard of him.”
Jaegar made a low groan. King Pallan glanced at him reassuringly. “Conrad, I need all the loyalists I can find to gain back my throne.”
Conrad peered at King Pallan; he seemed confused. Then, his evident confusion turned to joy. “Halloa! King Pallan the Second has visited his loyal knight; I shall follow my king wherever he goes!”
King Pallan corrected him cordially, “The Third. My father was the Second.”
Conrad became confused again. “Oh, right. Always get that wrong, I suppose. The Third. Not the Second. That’s right … he was the son of the Second, First, who beat back the Hojiri hordes.”
Jaegar shook his head slightly and whispered to King Pallan, “Sire, are you sure this man will be able to help us?”
King Pallan shifted his eyes to Jaegar to make a reply, but then looked back at Conrad and smiled. “The First.”
“Yes-right-the Second; First. Well, anyway, at this point—what was the point again?”
King Pallan reminded him gently, “That I—we—need your help.”
Conrad, seemingly ruffled that he had forgotten so recent a memory, said rather loudly, “Yes, of course; I shall be of any assistance to my sire.”
King Pallan nodded. “Thank you.”
Conrad then declared, “Bah! I’ve been such a poor host! Please come, my king, into my humble abode.” He gave a look around at the small crowd gathered near his doorstep. “Oh dear … suppose I can’t fit all of them inside.”
King Pallan replied, “No worries, friend; we do not expect you to entertain such a large troop.”
Conrad sniffled. “Aye, My Lord. If I could, I would give them all blankets and some gruel. A place to shield them from the rain.”
Jaegar remarked, “We do not mean to trouble you with such a burden. If it is all right, may we come in—the king and I, and some of his aides?”
Conrad responded immediately, “By all means! No need to stand out there in the cold; come in, come in.” He gestured with his free hand for Jaegar and King Pallan to enter. Three scribes followed them.
As they entered the smooth stone house, hewn from large, white-colored rocks and sealed in places with sod, there were shouts from the party outside, the soldiers, elders, and their families who had fled from King Ibren. “King Pallan—the rightful heir of the throne—long live King Pallan!” They repeated this continually.
Perched on a branch overhead was a large raven, which had been observing the scene silently.
King Pallan, Jaegar, and the three scribes came inside. Conrad hobbled over to a chair near a fire, his dog, Percival, fast asleep alongside it. Margaret was busy preparing a large pot of soup over the wood fire.
The home was bright and cheery, though somewhat cramped. The floor was of stone; boards of wood covered some areas. A single window across from the door on the other side of the hearth provided the only means of viewing the outside world, of letting refreshing air into the living space. The window was boarded up to combat the chill of the damp night air. Off in the corner was a narrow hallway that led to two bedrooms and a small study.
Conrad plopped down in his rocking chair, the wood of it creaking pronouncedly. Percival gave a slight stir, then nodded back off. “Aye! Mum—carrot and potato soup, again?”
Margaret looked back at Conrad for an instant. She stopped stirring. “Aye, papa! ’tis your favourite!” She went back to stirring the kettle, occasionally dropping herbs into it.
Conrad fired back, “Of course—mum.” He mumbled, “We had that the week before, and the week before that. If I eat another—” He jumped a little in his rocking chair. “Sire, please make yourself comfortable! My-my-I almost forgot, Maggie. Make these gentlemen at home.”
Margaret rose from her task and showed King Pallan and his men where to sit. She brought each a soft biscuit with a generous serving of fresh butter.
“Aye, those were the … when I was a knight. Still am!” Conrad rocked in his chair.
King Pallan ate his biscuit. He whispered to Jaegar, “Quite good, this biscuit.”
Jaegar whispered back, “It is; I do not think the castle has any better.”
Conrad took out a pipe, placed some aromatic grass into the cupped end of it, and lit it with a kitchen match (a reed whose end had been ignited by the fireplace and let to smoulder in a stand). Addressing King Pallan, he said, “Now, laddie, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”
King Pallan finished his morsel of biscuit and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “My father spoke of a man named Xarand; he was a wizard of sorts. Have you heard of him?”
Conrad smoked his pipe for a time, rocking back and forth. “Does not recall any memory to me.”
King Pallan sighed softly and returned to his biscuit.
Margaret spoke up as she cut some carrots for the pot, laughing. “Ha-ha-ha; aye, O’lords none too happy. Cursed your kingdom did they. News all round about …”
King Pallan grumbled to himself; Jaegar paused from eating to look over at him.
Margaret continued, “Yes, O’lords none too pleased with Paladia, I should think.”
Conrad retorted, “You should think!”
King Pallan asked, “What do you know of these ‘O’lords’, mum?”
Margaret dropped some celery into the soup and began stirring. “Only they see everything—they watchers, them, that’s what they is. Hidden beyond all realms they say. Terrible thing that’s befallen your kingdom …”
King Pallan remarked to Jaegar and the three scribes, who as of yet had said nothing, “It appears as though the news of Ibren has not yet made it to outlying lands …”
Jaegar commented softly, “Aye, sire. They appeared ignorant to the fact.”
King Pallan responded hastily, “But not to the fact of the Denaveive.”
A scribe named Hadara agreed. “Yes, the appearance of the Denaveive seems to have spread beyond the kingdom proper.”
A scribe sitting next to Hadara chimed in. “The Resh Woodlands are still a part of the kingdom, Hadara.”
Hadara replied indignantly, “Not in their entirety, Olish.”
King Pallan scolded them lightly, “Not the time, gentlemen, to discuss territory disputes; the woodlands are partly owned by Paladia.”
Hadara reminded him, “Sire—they were the property of your grandfather. It cannot be allowed that—”
King Pallan cut him off angrily, but with a hushed voice. “Not now Hadara; not now.”
Hadara fell silent immediately. He finished his biscuit.
King Pallan asked loudly, “Woman—what else do you know of these Denaveive?”
For a few moments, Margaret continued to stir the contents of the pot hung over the wood fire. Conrad smoked his pipe quietly in the background. The wood fire popped and snapped in the interval. She eventually said, “Only, sire, if that’s who you really are; that they come ever so often to test us mortals. There are stories that their lair is hidden in the storm winds of the north. They are not like us.”
King Pallan offered, “Mortals?”
Margaret added some turnips to the stew, which was nearing completion. She nodded. “Aye; not like us. Not material like us.”
King Pallan turned his head to the side; his expression revealed vexation. “What could they possibly want from my kingdom?”
Margaret began to smile; she had her back to them. “Your kingdom?”
Conrad sat up. “Margaret—his kingdom. Our sire is here …”
Margaret bit her lip. “Aye,
papa! Aye. King Pallan of Paladia.”
Conrad, shaking a tad, sat back gradually in his rocking chair; Percival, his hound dog, cracked an eye open.
King Pallan vented, “Everything is a mystery! No bloody sense to it; no meaning. Nowhere to go! No one to see! Bah! I’ve lost everything!” He threw a piece of biscuit onto the floor and looked away.
Margaret, unfazed at his outburst, finished preparing the late-evening meal.
Conrad, after smoking his pipe for a little while, remarked, “What you need, sire, is a force—to challenge this King?”
King Pallan finished, “Ibren.”
“Of yours. Now I might not be as sharp as I once was—my eyes a’failin’ me every so often—but from the looks of the regiment you brought to my doorstep, I’d say they could use some more equipment. Better armour.”
Jaegar interposed, “Yes, sire; he has a point. And we could use more men.”
King Pallan swung his arm in frustration. “And where the blazes am I to find that?! More men and equipment? I barely have enough to make it out of these blasted woodlands without that idiot Ibren knowing. If anything should happen to Barrow or Jaid … I will.” He revealed his teeth.
A scribe who had remained silent said, as a gentle reminder, “My Lord, may I remind you—the reason for our journey. It is of prime importance.”
King Pallan sighed loudly. “Yes, Yarek, I haven’t forgotten …”
“To find the Kaiper Stone of Ayren; to save the kingdom.” Yarek leaned back in his seat slowly.
Conrad winced and asked, “What the deuce is that?”
Margaret lifted the heavy kettle from its stand and brought it over to the kitchen, her face straining somewhat from the weight of it.
King Pallan apologized, “Conrad, forgive my outburst. I am sorry to have thrown your biscuit to the floor.” He bent down to pick it up.
Conrad, pausing between puffs, replied, “No trouble, laddie. I understand. Now this stone; what is it?”
Hadara broke in, “It is a stone that once existed in a temple in Paladia.”
Conrad remarked, “Hmm …”
King Pallan joined in. “Apparently, it was once found in the Temple of Xydan—the Denaveive have challenged me to find and restore it.”
Conrad asked Margaret, “Have you ever heard of such a stone, mum?”
Margaret poured some of the stew into wooden bowls. She shrugged. “Sounds very old to me; trouble me if I ought to know what it is!”
Conrad seemed to muse about the stone for a few seconds; he then came to and said, “Which brings us back to the point of equipment and men for your army, sire.”
Jaegar mouthed to King Pallan, ‘Army?’ The king ignored him.
“I am listening, Conrad.” King Pallan sat up a little.
Conrad took several puffs from his pipe. “You need to go to Kae’lem.”
Jaegar turned to King Pallan. “A moderately-sized village to the west of Paladia; it does not technically fall within your power. It is renowned for its craftsmen and blacksmiths …”
King Pallan looked ahead at Conrad and the fireplace. He bobbed his head slowly, in acknowledgement. In a muted tone, he answered, “Yes, I have heard of the place; I’ve never been there, however.”
Olish leaned over to King Pallan and said, “He could have a point, sire; perhaps they can help us. There are many blacksmiths there. We have precious stones and metals to trade with …”
King Pallan responded in a whisper from the side of his mouth, “Yes, I know; but it is quite far from here. Additionally, can we be sure they haven’t come under the influence of Erros—Ibren, that wretch?”
Olish froze for an instant. “No—we cannot be sure.” He leaned back.
Conrad cut back in. “I have been there once—many years ago. They are a good people. It was there I found a maker of shields who has no equal. An expert in metal work, fashioner of steel.”
Jaegar appeared intrigued.
King Pallan’s attentiveness heightened. “Is this man still alive? Do you think he can help me in my quest?”
Margaret came around and placed a bowl of the thick stew (more like a pea soup with large vegetable chunks) by King Pallan. She proceeded to place bowls near his companions.
Conrad answered after a brief time, “Not sure, laddie. As I said … that was many years past. Still, the village remains, and they continue in their crafts.”
Jaegar said quietly to King Pallan, “We might be able to make it. It is far but not out of reach. They were loyal to Paladia once. Perhaps they still are …”
Hadara intervened. “I concur, sire. What do we have to lose? The regiment protecting us is composed of some of the finest men the kingdom has to offer. They are all skilled warriors.”
Olish and Yarek agreed. “Yes, sire; what do we have to lose? Perhaps what he says is true?”
Jaegar reminded them, “That is true; they are all skilled warriors, My Lords. However, we are limited in number and provisioned with limited weapons. If we should encounter a—”
King Pallan gestured for him to be silent. “Sir, have you a map to this place? I’m afraid I do not know my way there …”
Conrad’s countenance brightened dramatically; he nearly choked on his pipe. “Not only have I a map to the place, I will lead you there!”
King Pallan and Jaegar looked at each other. Jaegar groaned.
Conrad insisted, “Now eat. You need your strength for tomorrow, for tomorrow we shall leave for Kae’lem!”
King Pallan crumbled a hard biscuit over his stew and took a spoonful. His face lit up with satisfaction.
The scribes began eating greedily, while Jaegar took his soup with measured caution.
As a bowl of stew was brought to his side, Conrad announced, “Maggie and I will rummage the homestead for blankets for your people; any small morsel of food we can spare. Tell them to seek cover beneath the trees. There are many small alcoves to hide in.”
King Pallan nodded to him. “I shall. And thank you for your kindness.”
Conrad seemed not to hear him but began gulping down his soup.
V
The following morning, King Pallan and Jaegar were awakened by a bugle call, a very poorly executed one. The scribes Olish, Yarek, and Hadara had spent the night with their wives and children outside.
“What the blazes is that?” King Pallan boomed. He had been sleeping on the floor on some blankets near the kitchen.
Jaegar grumbled to himself as his eyes split open to the cacophony of sounds. “What is that, sire?” He strained to see where the noise was coming from, sitting up a little from his makeshift bed on the floor.
Margaret was bringing out tea and sweet biscuits; she appeared completely unmoved by the trumpet playing.
King Pallan saw where the bugle playing was coming from. Conrad, with his hound at his side, was playing, or attempting to play, a beat-up old bugle with a thick, red yarn wrapped around the lower pipe of the horn that ended in two dangling tassels. “Shut that horn up!”
Startled, Conrad stopped playing at once.
“What is the matter with you?!” King Pallan glared at his eccentric host.
Percival barked once, half-heartedly, as it were.
Conrad struggled with his words. “Well, sire; every good knight begins his day with a bugle call.”
King Pallan waved his hand at him and gradually rose from his bed. “Pfft; blast. The sound of bugle call … we are right here! There’s no need.” He refrained from saying anything else. He was now up and about.
Jaegar stood up from his bed and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
King Pallan snapped, “Evidently, time to get up …” He grinned deviously at Jaegar, expressing his great dissatisfaction over his impromptu wake-up.
Margaret suggested, “Every knight of any-a-worth is up at the early hour; besides, there is hot tea and freshly made biscuits.” She smiled at Jaegar, who was scratching his head, and King Pallan, who stopped gritting his teeth.
>
Conrad came over, Percival wagging his tail excitedly, close at his heels. “Hmm, my favourite, mum. Lemon-iced biscuits …”
Jaegar commented softly, “Those do look good.” He took one from the tray and placed it in his mouth. As he finished it, saying between mouthfuls, being mindful not to be rude, “You are quite the cook. The castle could benefit from your culinary talents …”
Margaret blushed a smidgen. “You really think so? Oh, well, it’s just a’me and Conrad, and Percival, here in these woods. Been a’bakin’ since a youth; mama taught me all I know. Yeah, her bles’sed memory … You’re going to need all the strength you can get to make it where you’re a’goin’! Now eat!”
Conrad began devouring the biscuits. He mumbled, “Aye, mum.”
Jaegar took another biscuit and sat down in a chair by the kitchen table.
King Pallan, scanning the scene with reserved annoyance, acquiesced little by little to the industrious housemaid’s well-intentioned imperative.
“Sire, the troop should be just getting up. Olish and the others spent the night in the alcoves with their families. Shall I see how Thralax is fairing?”
King Pallan responded to Jaegar after a few moments. “No, finish your breakfast. We are up now; the others can attend to him.” Thralax had been injured in the siege of the castle and was taken along on the expedition for his marksmanship, particularly with the crossbow.
Jaegar nodded to him. “These biscuits are delicious.”
King Pallan sat partly on the table near Jaegar. “They are quite good. Have you the map that can lead us out of these woods?”
Jaegar put his half-eaten biscuit on the table and searched a pouch in the thin overcoat he wore over his chainmail. “I do.” He pulled the folded parchment from the pouch, opening it on the kitchen table.
King Pallan turned his attention to it. He shortly pointed at an area of the map that showed a small stream, passing through a collection of low rises in the forest. “There; if we can follow that stream, according to the map, we should be able to exit the Resh Woodlands near the Jynip Grasslands.”
Jaegar focused on the section of the map that King Pallan was pointing to.
Overlords Page 10
