*****
Running a kingdom was not at all what she had once imagined. Her late husband King Augustus had excluded her from all matters related to management of the kingdom. She would never admit it to anyone, but she had been overwhelmed when she had first taken over after his death.
Augustus had relied heavily on an advisory council, which she had quickly dismissed. They had been unwilling to listen to her, and she wouldn’t have anyone carry out orders against her wishes. They did not know best just because they were men. Eleanor had quickly learned that most matters brought before her were inane and ridiculous, hardly needing the attention of the queen. However, this was her kingdom, and she wouldn’t have anyone else making the decisions on its governance.
Eleanor drummed her fingers against the arm of the throne in irritation and anticipation. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that she would have been informed of the death of the border knights last night. She had lingered in her throne room, waiting, but no knight from the border had appeared with an urgent message.
She scowled and rose from the throne, stalking over to the window. The path which wound around the castle and over towards the border was clear. There was no knight riding up at a gallop to inform his queen of the slaughter of her knights. Eleanor knew that her knights could often be cowardly if they felt they were at fault, but if they were trying to cover this up, there would be hell to pay.
A quiet knock echoed through the room as a gauntlet hit the closed wooden door. Eleanor quickly moved back to her throne and settled herself down.
“Come,” Eleanor commanded.
The door was pushed open and her newly appointed knight commander hurried inside, trailed by another knight. They both dropped to one knee in front of her, bowing their heads in respect.
“Your Majesty, this knight comes from the border. He carries a message of ill tidings,” the knight commander told her soberly.
Eleanor sent up a mental plea of thanks. Finally. Her patience had been close to snapping, and despite often being forced to play the long game, she didn’t have much patience to begin with. She pasted on a concerned look, her eyes flickering between the two knights.
“Oh? What has happened now?” Eleanor asked.
The knight commander nodded and the border knight cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, but there has been a slaughter on the northern border. An entire border outpost has been wiped out.”
“How?” Eleanor demanded icily. “Was it a beast from the mountains?”
“No, Your Majesty,” the knight said solemnly. “Their deaths were caused by men.”
Eleanor rose from the throne. “It is too far for Gatlan, there would be no benefit. Unless…” She made her voice sound breathless, as if coming upon some shocking realization. “The Northern Kingdoms. I have recently heard rumors that they have economic concerns, but I never would have thought they would make such an aggressive move.”
She looked imperiously at the still kneeling knights. “I want patrols doubled on the northern border. I want our increased presence to be noticed if the north send knights over the mountains again. Bring back men from the front if you must, we must secure our borders.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, by your command,” the knight commander murmured, bowing low. He moved to rise and leave, but Eleanor stopped him.
“Wait, I have another matter to discuss,” Eleanor said sharply. The border knight bowed, and Eleanor waited until he had left the throne room before continuing. “How goes the search for information on the legend of the light in the darkness?”
“Nothing yet, Your Majesty. It has just been a few days; the scouts have not yet had a chance to return,” the knight commander reported hesitantly.
Eleanor scowled, but it was a reasonable response. For anyone without magic, travel did take considerable time. “What of our guest, Staff Sergeant Ortiz, in the dungeon?”
“He is well. By your order, he hasn’t been harmed. He mostly spends his time exercising or sleeping. Did you wish him brought before you?” the knight commander asked.
“No, not at this time,” Eleanor replied. Ortiz had told her all he knew; the only value he had left was in his existence. “Continue to ensure he is treated well. Grant him full rations. Perhaps allow him out to bathe and change clothes.”
The knight commander blinked in surprise. “Of course, Your Majesty, I will see it done.”
He swiftly departed, leaving Eleanor alone in the throne room once more with just her thoughts for company. She returned to the window, surveying what she could see of her kingdom. On the horizon, despite it being two days’ ride to the border, she could see faint wisps of smoke from the battle against Gatlan.
Eleanor knew a little of the legend of the light in the darkness. It was a tale told in shadowy corners, a horror story to frighten little children; few believed it was true. However, all such tales usually contained a grain of truth, and it matched what Ortiz had told her about the transport platform which had brought him and his comrades to this land from Earth.
The legend spoke of a cave of a light and a group of explorers. It was often used as a cautionary tale against exploring uncharted land. The light had skewered a knight and taken him away. The pedestal in the center had proven indestructible, and the lost knight had never returned. The light was labeled dark. Superstition stated that the beams pierced your soul and damned it forever.
It was the final part that was most intriguing as it, alluded to a part of their history that had fallen into myth. Their ancestors had done their best to forget and erase the past, but here in this legend there remained a whisper of ‘the Emperor,’ and it was said that the cave of light was a torture device he left behind, unnatural and unholy, its power a reminder of the Emperor and his evil.
What was frustrating was that nowhere in any of the whispers she had ever heard had anyone mentioned the location. It was that location that she desired, so that when the marines came to her, as she knew they would, she would have absolute control of the situation. Eleanor so hated to leave anything to chance.
She smirked. Everything was now in motion, and once more it was just a matter of patience, waiting for her opponents to react. It was going to be a long few days.
*****
The following day, the mood was somber when the three marines set out for the final day’s trek to King Oswald’s palace at the heart of Gatlan. When they had broken camp that morning, there had barely been a word spoken among them. What was there to say? They had buried a comrade last night, and they had seen so many dead the day before, all laid out neatly, like broken, charred dolls.
They might have been soldiers. They might have seen death a thousand times in the course of their chosen profession, but they were still human. For as long as they kept hold of their humanity, the sights and smells of death would haunt them for a time.
Leo decided that the day that changed, the day it no longer preyed on his mind for even a moment after the incident, that was the day he would need to quit. He was a career soldier—in for twenty years or longer, should he manage to make it that far without permanent injury or death. However, even career soldiers needed to remember why they fought.
He still needed to be able to look at himself in the mirror.
The forest road they were traveling down widened and they could see a village up ahead. It was larger than most of the villages they had come across, likely a trading post for the area. Leo pointed the horse off the path; they would go around, even if it was tempting to stop and trade for a meal. The horse hadn’t trotted more than a few feet when a knight appeared out of the bushes.
“Halt, stranger!” the knight ordered. One hand was on the hilt of his sword, the other stretched out in the universal sign to stop.
Leo pulled hard on the reins and the horse paused and turned sideways, shying away from the knight. To his right, Don dropped the reins of his horse and reached for his rifle. From the opposite side of the road, the bushes r
ustled and twitched. Another knight appeared, this one armed with a crossbow, aimed directly at Leo’s heart.
“Stand down, Don,” Leo ordered softly.
He dropped the reins and raised his hands, a gesture of surrender. To his left, Nick did the same. Leo twisted, hearing movement, and two more knights appeared on the road behind them. They had both drawn their swords.
This was a fight that they could quite likely win if necessary; they could shoot the knights before they could get close enough for the swords to become an issue. The only real threat was the crossbow, which would fire before Leo could take cover. However, they weren’t here to start a fight; they were looking for allies.
“We’ve come from Kaslea. We have a letter from Prince Edmund; we’re on our way to the palace to see King Oswald,” Leo explained. “I can show the letter, if you wish. It’s in my jacket.”
Carefully and slowly, keeping his hands in view, Leo reached inside his combat vest and withdrew the letter. He had placed it there for safekeeping and easy access. The other letters that Prince Edmund had written endorsing them were safe in his pack, for when or if they were needed later.
When they had decided to journey to Gatlan, Prince Edmund had written one specifically for King Oswald. Neither Prince Edmund nor Mathis had thought that they would encounter any issues on their journey, having successfully navigated past the frontline. However, Gatlan was at war, and as a soldier, Leo understood the burden these knights were under.
Leo held the letter out for the knight in front of him to take. Warily, the knight edged forward. Leo’s horse stamped its hooves and snorted loudly. The knight paused before extending his arm and leaning forward just enough to snag the letter. He retreated several steps before breaking the seal. His eyes scanned the contents.
“Dismount, now!” the knight ordered.
“We just want to see the king,” Nick told them. He slipped down from his horse and held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Why don’t you take us to him?”
“You wear strange garb for emissaries from Kaslea,” the knight stated uncertainly.
“But the letter bears the royal seal of Prince Edmund,” Leo added. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Take them.” The knight nodded decisively.
The two knights behind them sheathed their swords and came forward. They grabbed Don and Nick by the arms, twisting their hands behind their back.
“Leo!” Don shouted.
“There’s no need to bind us, we’ll go peacefully,” Leo said urgently.
The third knight had swung his crossbow over his back and now stepped forward, some rough twine in his hands. Leo watched him approach, feeling his heartrate picking up rapidly. He wasn’t sure what to do. If they fought the knights, they would likely have to go lethal, and that would not bode well for future relations with Gatlan. However, if they were taken prisoner, that wouldn’t bode well for any kind of future. They had a mission they needed to complete.
It was a choice between taking action now and hoping they could pick up the pieces, or biding their time and hoping for the best, hoping that they weren’t dooming themselves and Earth by surrendering. It was a roll of the dice, and Leo’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs. Whatever he chose was a risk, and he needed to choose fast before the choice was taken from him.
Leo held out his hands in front of him, palms up. “Bind us if you have to, but there is no need. We don’t want any trouble.”
The knight responded by grabbing his wrists and roughly looping the twine around them. Leo winced as the knight tightened the knot, causing the twine to dig cruelly into his wrists. He turned to check on his squad mates. Don was still struggling against the knights’ tight hold. He was having to fight back his instincts, and it was making his entire body thrum with tension.
Don’s jaw was clenched and he bared his teeth. Leo nodded at him in reassurance and Don let out a deep breath, but his muscles were still tensed as he fixed his eyes on the space in front of him and stared. Nick nodded back in understanding, relaxing into the knights’ hold and allowing himself to be bound. They were all in this together, and hopefully Leo hadn’t just made a huge mistake.
“What’ll happen to our horses and gear?” Leo asked.
“They’ll be taken to the palace,” the lead knight answered. He seemed more at ease now that the three marines had been subdued. “Your fate rests with the king now.”
A knight grabbed Leo roughly by the upper arm and pulled him forward. He twisted and saw Don and Nick were being similarly manhandled. The knights marched them into the village, where there was a wooden cart waiting with a cage on the back. The three marines were pushed into the cage. Leo sighed. At least they wouldn’t have to walk to the palace. That meant that they would hopefully get there before nightfall as planned, and be able to see the king today.
Nick wrinkled his nose. Leo grimaced in agreement. A lot of this world smelled, but this cart smelled worse than the back of a squad car on a Friday night. It was disgustingly dirty, but thankfully dry. Leo had been in a far worse prison down in South America one time; his squad had gotten separated, and he had spent the night in jail before they’d returned and broken him out.
“Thinking of South America?” Don said knowingly, wincing as he tested his bonds.
“Just another day at the office,” Leo quipped.
A few minutes later, a horse was connected to the cart, and then with a jerk, they were moving. The cart rumbled along the uneven road. Leo tried to brace himself against the jolts of the cart, but the bouncing was so uneven and unexpected that he was soon battered in all directions. Without his hands free to hold on to something, he was going to have some colorful bruises tomorrow.
Chapter Four
Thankfully, the cart ride only lasted a couple of hours. They passed through a town, similar in size to Termont, and with the same scattering of fancy buildings. However, King Oswald’s palace was not part of the town as Prince Edmund’s had been. Gatlan’s royal palace was set in its own grounds, with plenty of green fields and trees isolating it, just as Mathis had described.
The land around was flat. Leo could see the winding road that led to the palace wall and the huge wooden gates, which opened into the courtyard. The castle was built out of dark gray stone. The sun was beginning its descent but it was still shining brightly. Leo couldn’t help but feel it should be raining, a castle that grim looking, deserved dismal weather.
On the castle turrets, the flag of Gatlan waved proudly. The red background and yellow crest of a lion’s head added a splash of much-needed color to the palace. The cart rolled into the courtyard and jerked to a stop. A squad of knights assembled behind the cart, and the cage was unlocked. Unceremoniously, the three marines were pulled out of the cell and dragged towards the door of the palace.
They were marched along cool corridors until they reached a closed wooden door, which was flanked by another two knights. Leo shivered at the temperature difference between the exposed cart under the beating sun, and the shadowed stone of the castle. The door knights looked at the marines in interest, their eyes raking over their unfamiliar uniform. They exchanged a nervous glance before pushing open both doors, allowing the marines and their knight guards entry to the throne room.
Leo couldn’t be certain what was the cause of the knights’ nerves around the three marines. It could have been because the marines were unfamiliar strangers, or perhaps news of their exploits in Kaslea had reached Gatlan’s castle. They had frightened away Gatlan’s troops from the Kaslea border village, and such tales had a habit of spreading. Just the general nerves of wartime couldn’t be discounted; where fear was heightened, paranoia reined free and everything seemed like a threat.
It was a grand affair. There was a large gilt gold throne flanked by two more knights, who were standing to attention in shiny silver armor. The throne was occupied by an overweight man, who looked to be in his late forties. He was dressed in fine robes, the colors a rich mix of burgun
dy and gold, the same colors as his kingdom. A heavy gold chain hung around his neck, both hands were adorned with rings, and a heavy fur-trimmed crown rested on his head.
Leo had heard in Kaslea that Gatlan was facing bankruptcy. Perhaps King Oswald should lose some of his finery to finance his kingdom. Leo wasn’t completely politically ignorant; it was about image, and King Oswald certainly presented one of largesse. As first impressions went, Leo much preferred the practicality of Prince Edmund and Kaslea.
The lead knight who had captured them moved closer to the king and fell to one knee in front of the throne. “Your Majesty, these strangers came from the border. They bear a letter with the Kaslea seal.”
King Oswald clicked his fingers. “Hand it over.”
The knight straightened and bowed, handing the king the letter. King Oswald read it and Leo held his breath. When the king nodded, Leo relaxed. He could’ve been wrong, but he thought that they were out of the woods on this one.
“Yes, we’ve been expecting them. Unbind them and have their belongings returned the moment they leave,” King Oswald ordered.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The knight bowed once more.
Each of the knights holding the marines securely now produced a small blade, and Leo felt the rough twine being cut. He winced as his arms were freed, and he shook them free of the stiff tension that had settled in. He rubbed his sore wrists and looked over at Don and Nick. Don shrugged an apology; he hadn’t liked this play, but so far it seemed to have worked out.
“Thank you, King Oswald. I believe the letter explains—” Leo began.
“Yes, yes,” King Oswald interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “I am aware of your situation, Staff Sergeant. My sorcerer, Cain, has told me much about you.”
At the introduction, a young man stepped out of the shadows next to the throne. He was dressed in black leather trousers, a dark silk shirt, and—Leo blinked—what looked like a dragon-hide coat. A cruel smirk played across his lips and Leo unconsciously tensed, ready for a fight.
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 4
