So he had avoided his best friend, spending the evening of their Graypee adventure with Olyva and then all of the Holy Day was spent touring the wall away from the Earl’s palace. Now he was hiding in the high watchtower, but eventually he would have to see his friend. He only hoped that Tiberius would understand. He had made the best of the situation, ensuring that he could spend the rest of his life with Lady Olyva. It was the only way they could ever be together, and while it was a costly sacrifice, if Tiberius loved Rafe at all, he would have to understand. Rafe only hoped Tiberius would forgive him.
It was hours before the King’s airship came into view, and then it was only a dark speck in the distance. The sky above Avondale was brilliant blue, and the air high above the city on the watchtower was cold. Rafe alternated between rubbing the back of his neck, which was baking in the sun, and swiping the tears from his eyes from the cold wind.
“Is that it, sir?” asked the other soldier on watch.
“That’s it,” Rafe confirmed.
“It doesn’t seem like much.”
“It’s the biggest airship in Valana,” Rafe explained. “You’ll see. For now, go and tell Commander Grentz that the ship has been sighted.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said, saluting before hurrying down the long spiral staircase that led down to the city walls.
It took another hour for the massive vessel to fully come into view, but the soldier and everyone else in Avondale could see the huge craft. It was almost as big as the Earl’s palace, and built to look like the ancient seafaring vessels that had once plied the oceans around Valana. The ship was made of wood, with a long central portion and either end curving upward. The bow of the ship was carved into a massive dragon’s head, the rear was the beast’s tail. There were three discernible decks on the ship, all with massive windows.
As the ship came closer, Rafe could see the thick ropes that held the huge, silk sacks that were filled with Hylum gas mined in Avondale. The first settlers had discovered the gas, but it was years before anyone understood that it could be used to lift heavy objects into the sky. The airship had four of the massive bubble-shaped sails filled with what was known around the city as lifting gas. The ship also had triangular air sails that were used to propel the huge craft, just like the ships of old. Rafe couldn’t see the massive trapdoors that he knew lined the bottom of the ship, which had been designed to carry massive loads of ballast into battle. The trapdoors could be opened and death rained down on anyone unfortunate enough to be hiding or fighting below.
War had been common in the early formation of the Nine Cities, before the rule of one King had been reestablished in Valana. Now, the ships were designed to be luxury vessels, carrying the King and his nobles from mountaintop to mountaintop, above the blighted lands below, which were hidden under a thick layer of white clouds. When the ship sailed over the city walls, Rafe could hear the shouts of the officers barking orders to the men who manned the ship’s sails and rudder.
Rafe finally headed back down from the watchtower. He was excited by the arrival of the King and didn’t want to miss seeing any of the spectacle he knew was coming. It would be some time before the Earl’s servants had the massive ship secured to the heavy stone pilings around the palace. They would catch the ropes dropped from the ship, anchor them to the stone pilings around the outside of the palace which had been built for exactly that purpose. The pilings were huge stone columns, carved with intricate designs, with a rotating base that allowed the heavy ropes to be turned around and around the pilings, securing the ship and lowering it to the palace roof.
Rafe hurried down to the barracks and washed up. He had polished his dress armor in preparation for meeting the King. As a child, he had seen the King’s massive ship sail over Avondale, but he had not been allowed to meet the sovereign ruler of the Nine Cities. Valana had once been a huge realm; now it consisted of nine isolated cities. Still, as a child he had not been allowed to bother the King or the Earl for that matter. He had been kept far away from the royal procession. But this time, Rafe would be introduced and presented as part of the Earl’s officers. He hurried to the Earl’s banquet room where a large entourage waited to be escorted upstairs to meet the King.
“They are ready, Lord Aegus,” said a servant who had come hurrying into the room, panting from having just run down from the palace roof.
“As are we,” said the aging Earl.
“Form up!” snapped Grentz.
Soldiers in brightly polished armor formed two lines. Several dignitaries filed in between the armored men. The Earl’s wife and daughters came into the room, and took their places. Finally the Earl and his two older sons, along with Grentz, the legendary Sword Master at the rear. Rafe, who was leading the procession, noticed that Tiberius wasn’t present. His heart ached for his friend, but he shook any thoughts other than making a good impression out of his mind.
They took their time climbing to the roof of the palace. The Earl’s home was a grand building with several floors. A wide, central staircase was built over the massive feasting hall on the main level. The stairs were carved from marble and had ornate brass railings that were polished to a mirror shine. The staircase was more than wide enough for the procession, and Rafe led the group up slowly. It would be undignified for the Earl to rush up the stairs, not to mention being out of breath when he met the King.
When they finally reached the roof, the entire group spread out in a long receiving line, with soldiers at the rear. They waited almost ten minutes before a massive wooden staircase was lowered from the ship’s trapdoor. It came down slowly, one end lowered by ropes, the other pivoting from where it was locked to the lower deck of the ship. Rafe expected to see a group of people at least as large as the one the Earl had formed, but despite the massive size of the ship, only six people exited the vessel. The King was a big man, with wide shoulders and a slender waist. He had a golden crown on his head, but he wore armor instead of royal robes. His armor matched that of the four deadly looking soldiers who flanked him. Unlike the Earl’s warriors, the King’s guard wore leather armor that was molded to fit their bodies. They carried long swords, and shields that were clearly battle tested. There was nothing showy about the soldiers, yet the message of deadly efficiency they projected was clearly evident.
The final member of the King’s party was a teenage girl, with features that left no doubt as to her lineage. The King’s daughter was not dainty, like the Earl’s daughters. She even wore armor and carried a curved short sword that looked well used.
“My lord,” the Earl said, stepping forward and bowing. “It is an honor to have you here at Avondale.”
“The honor is mine,” said the King in a deep voice. “Avondale is my second favorite city in the realm. It’s been too long since I visited.”
“May I introduce my son, Leonosis,” the Earl said.
“Yes, it is good to meet you in person,” King Aethel said. “I’ve heard good things about what you’re doing here as your father’s functionary.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Leonosis said.
“This is my daughter, Ariel.”
The girl’s smile was tight and Rafe thought she looked nervous. He guessed she would would be more comfortable in a fight than meeting her father’s nobles.
“Come this way,” Earl Aegus said. “We have our finest rooms made ready for you and your lovely daughter. You can rest and freshen up, then when you are ready, we shall feast to celebrate your arrival.”
The King nodded. The Earl led the way back down into the palace, and this time Rafe brought up the rear. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the King seemed so ordinary. They went down into the palace and then Rafe’s father dismissed the officers, warning them to be ready for the feast.
Rafe was more than ready, he was famished and yet he was too excited to think about food. He went to Lady Olyva’s suite. She answered the door almost before he finished knocking.
“Is he here?” she asked excitedly. “What’s he like?”
She had been in the palace garden, along with the Earl’s daughters, when the King’s airship had appeared over the city walls. But unlike the Earl’s family, she wasn’t invited to meet the King. That would come later, at the feast, when a virtual parade of the most important people in Avondale would be introduced to their King.
“He is here,” Rafe said, stepping into the room and closing the door.
He took Olyva into his arms and ignored the frown of disapproval from Hellen. The elder servant sat in a chair, knitting and pretending not to listen, even though Rafe knew she was hanging on every word.
“What’s he like? Oh, he must be so grand,” Olyva said.
“Actually,” Rafe explained, “he wasn’t what I expected at all. He was very spartan. Just a simple gold crown and very well-maintained armor.”
“He wore armor?” Olyva asked.
“Yes, and not formal armor either. It was well used, mostly molded leather. Other than the crown, he looked a lot like the soldiers of his guard.”
“Really, that’s not what I expected at all.”
“Me either, but Sparlan Citadel is a fortress, not a palace. His warriors are the most renowned fighters in Valana and obviously he sees himself as one of them. His daughter too.”
“His daughter came?”
“Yes,” Rafe said. “In armor, just like her father.”
“They sound so paranoid.”
“Perhaps they are. The Earl only got word the King was coming a few days ago. They are feasting and the city is celebrating, but I don’t think even my father knows what is really going on.”
“Well, I need to get ready for the feast. I need to time to make myself presentable to the King and I can’t do that with you around here.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rafe said. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”
“You heard my lady,” cried Hellen, as she came tottering out of her chair. “Out with you!”
“I’m going,” Rafe said with a grin.
He blew Olyva a kiss, then left. Hellen slammed the heavy door almost in his face. He was well aware that the rotund lady’s maid did not approve of him, but she would have to get used to him. He loved Olyva, and in his mind, nothing else mattered.
Chapter 18
Tiberius
Tiberius had searched for Lexi all afternoon, but he didn’t know the city the way she did. Her words rang in his mind and he realized that perhaps his plan had been a bit naïve, but he refused to believe that leaving the palace was wrong. He would have to keep his power a secret, but he surmised that he could do that as long as he wasn’t forced to turn away from becoming a wizard. He worried that Lexi had fallen into the hands of ruffians again, or even worse, arrested. He searched until dark, but she was nowhere to be found. He hoped he had not ruined his chances with her. The thought of leaving the city without her was difficult to fathom.
The next day, the palace was busy preparing for the King’s arrival, but Tiberius slipped away early in the morning and retraced his steps to the lower city. The day before, he and Lexi had stashed his bag behind a stack of broken, wooden crates. He had worried all night that someone might have found his pack and made off with the book of magic. So, he had packed another bag, this one with food, coin, a few basic tools, and a pair of boots, then hurried back to the edge of the city to add it to his cache. He was relieved to find the pack exactly where he’d left it. He was just about to return to the palace when the King’s airship glided over the city.
He watched in awe as the huge ship settled over his father’s palace. He realized he wouldn’t make it back in time to join the procession that would meet the King, but he guessed that no one would miss him. He hurried back anyway, climbing the chiseled stone stairways that led back up to the broad central avenue that ran around the highest level of the city. He had debated through the night what he should do about Rafe. On the one hand, he wanted to confront his old friend and find out exactly why Rafe had given in to Leonosis’ lie about the Graypees, but another part of him wanted to wait and see what his conniving brother had planned for Rafe. Whatever it was, it would be no more than Rafe deserved, but Tiberius hated the thought of Leonosis getting anything over on anyone. His brother had a cruel streak and Tiberius worried that Rafe would just be a victim to Leonosis’ quest for power.
By the time he got back to the palace he was hot, his hair sticking to his head with sweat despite the cool temperatures. It never got truly hot in Avondale; the summers were mild, the winters were long and snowy. But climbing the towering stairways and hurrying through the city that seemed to be celebrating the King’s arrival early had been a chore. When he reached the palace, he knew he needed to find Rafe and warn him. He was angry, and the thought of even seeing Rafe made his stomach churn with bile, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t warn Rafe that Leonosis was up to something. He was making his way toward the wing of rooms used by the Earl’s military officers, including Rafe’s father Grentz, when a voice rang out behind him.
“Where the hell have you been!” Brutas snapped in his gruff voice.
Brutas was shorter than Tiberius, and nearly twice as wide. He was strong, but slow with a sword, and he wore his hair in a long braid that hung down his back and was held tight with golden thread. He rarely wore armor, but was never seen without the long, two handed broadsword he wore slung on his back. He had a thick beard that he kept trimmed into a point and polished silver bands encircled both of his beefy wrists.
“What?” Tiberius asked.
“Are you deaf and dumb?” Brutas jeered. “Father wants all of us ready to meet the King in half an hour. I’ve been looking all over for you. Why weren’t you here when the King’s ship arrived?”
“I was at the temple,” Tiberius lied.
“Well get cleaned up,” Brutas ordered. He was used to bossing everyone around except for Leonosis, and seemed to take pleasure in causing Tiberius pain. “You look like a beggar. Robere is waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” Tiberius said, trying to hide his frustration.
Brutas turned and lumbered back down toward his own quarters. He had recently moved in the rooms that were normally given to the captain of the Earl’s personal guard. Compared to Tiberius’s room, Brutas lived in luxury, despite the fact that he hadn’t been promoted beyond the rank of junior officer yet. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Brutas became the Commander of the Earl’s war band, the fact that he had taken up residence in the Commander’s quarters only confirmed it.
Tiberius looked for Rafe for a few more minutes, knowing that every second he waited would only drive poor Robere into a fit of worry. Finally, after not seeing his friend in any of the usual places, Tiberius went back to his room. Robere was already inside, pacing nervously.
“Thank heaven!” the aging servant said. “I was worried sick. Where have you been?”
“At the temple,” Tiberius said.
It was his standard lie. No one from the palace went to the temple except on holy days, and so it was a safe story. His studies to become a Paladin, including the physical training the novices were required to complete, made spending time at the temple a given.
“Come on, strip out of those filthy clothes. We have to make you presentable and there isn’t much time.”
Tiberius complied, although it seemed impossible to hurry. For some strange reason, he felt as if meeting the King was something to be avoided. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but he felt a huge sense of dread approaching.
Robere fretted over Tiberius’ limited wardrobe. Ti had already taken his most comfortable outfits to the edge of the city, but luckily those weren’t the clothes Robere was interested in.
“Your closet seems empty,” he remarked absently as he looked at the various outfits.
“I’ve taken some clothes to the temple,” Tiberius lied again. “They’ve given us each
a cell to keep a change of clothes in. I took two, just in case. And my spare boots.”
“That’s prudent,” Robere said. “And a good sign I suppose, although why you should be forced to live in such austere surroundings is beyond me.”
“We’re supposed to give up attachments to worldly things,” Tiberius said.
“Please, don’t preach. I know how poor my faith is. I just hate to see you leave the palace.”
Tiberius nodded as Robere pulled a silk tunic over Ti’s head. The tunic was large and made Tiberius feel like he was wearing a bedsheet, but Robere folded the garment so that it criss-crossed over his stomach and was cinched tightly with a thick leather belt. The billowing sleeves tied at the wrist and as Tiberius looked at himself in the dressing mirror he was pleased. His linen breeches only showed at the thighs, under the hem of the tunic and above the polished leather boots that rose to his knees. Tiberius wanted to take his whip, but Robere absolutely forbade it.
“It’s my best weapon,” Tiberius argued.
“It’s a cattleman’s tool, not a nobleman’s weapon,” Robere insisted. “And certainly not fit for the Earl’s son.”
Tiberius wanted to argue that he had held off a pack of Graypees with his whip, but he knew that not even Robere would believe him. Instead, he let the elderly servant tuck his Wangorian dagger into the leather belt.
“Now, you look fit to woo the King’s daughter.”
“Not interested,” Tiberius remarked.
“Perhaps you should be,” Robere said. “Surely life as King of Valana would be better than being a Paladin.”
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