Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2)

by Jason Paul Rice

  The short, crooked walking man led them in. Jon expected his uncle to look older, but only his eyebrows and facial stubble had grayed, while the long golden hair of his youth still clung to the older man’s skull. His long, narrow, judgmental face stared down at the steps as his hunched-over body began the climb. The ground floor of the tree looked exactly like a one-room house and smelled of brewed coffee. The staircase wound around the outer walls of the hollowed out tree. They climbed upward and each floor looked the same. The rooms looked to have been furnished from the black wood removed from the tree. As they ascended, Jon looked out the carved windows at the forest and down into the green pastures of Mattingly. They reached the fourteenth floor and the heavily breathing Hambone collapsed into a chair at an egg-shaped table. Jon and Ruxin joined Hambone.

  “Now, I don’t mean to be meddlin’ with yer liver but I knew that stuff would lead to trouble,” Hambone meddled. “I know you are always right, wise uncle, but without great sacrifice there can be no great reward either. If your brother hadn’t taken rule, you wouldn’t be enjoying this carefree life of yours. The Beverleys or any other ruler would have forced our family back to working the fields,” Jon returned. Ruxin jumped in, “When Fox Chapel threatened to attack Mattingly, I stood up to them. This magnificent tree would no longer stand if I turned and ran.”

  “Look at the two of yous, pretty clothes, talkin’ fancy. That ain’t the Colberts. No, my daddy would be shamed to see what our name is now,” Hambone opined. Jon argued, “Really, he would be proud of a man who hides in a tree?”

  “Look, we is of relation but don’t go twistin’ the truth. I come up here after yer daddy’s rebellion. After I done killed ‘nough Beverley men to keep you alive. They woulda loved to take target practice on Jasper’s son. Neither of you twos would be sittin here insultin’ me if I didn’t protect the damn bloodline you almost destroyed,” Hambone told them.

  “You wonder why I haven’t come here in six years? Why I haven’t brought my sons to see their great uncle?” Jon asked. “I don’t wonder nothin. I don’t ask nobody to come see me. Sorry bout yer loss but it wouldn’t a happened if you wasn’t stupid. Foolin’ with kings,” Hambone shook his head in disgust. His uncle continued to berate him, “You member how long yer daddy was duke fer?” “Aye,” Jon responded. “Seven and seventy days. That ain’t long. He went to pay respects to a dead king what tried to kill him. King Ali-Baster couldn’t never beat yer daddy but I bet ‘fore he died, he made his son promise to kill Jasper. Ali-Stanley seen a funeral as a way to kill yer daddy without his army. I told him don’t go, but he said he was obli…obli…obli…” Jon didn’t help with the word because he knew his uncle would take it as a sign of disrespect. Hambone gave up and continued, “He said he had to go cuz he was duke now and they gotta follow king’s orders. I said we didn’t follow the Beverleys orders and the Wamhoffs is much worse. I ‘member what he said when he left. He said, ‘The new king would be foolish to try something stupid.’ Then I heard you gone and done the same thing. You’s either city stupid or jus’ plain cocky. Which one is it, boy? You look down on men like me for not readin’ and speakin’ right but I ain’t a lick as dumb as you.”

  Jon couldn’t hold back any longer and emotionally stated, “Do you know what my father told me before he rode out for the last time? He told me that no matter what happened to him, that I must promise to always fight and never give up. He said the easiest thing to do is run and hide from all the problems. Your brother said that is what cravens do. He said with all the injustice in this kingdom we have a chance to stand up for the forgotten men and women. We have a chance to make this realm into a fair and honorable place for every man. He said it would require great sacrifice. Men, women and children of the family would have to die to make life better for the whole of the realm. My father said everyone must die, but if you die for a reason, there can be hope even in death. He told me that he and I would die for the cause, but my son would unite the realm and sit on the throne as king for decades. He said his father, your father, told him that the Colberts are destined to rule Donegal. My father’s last words to me were, ‘I don’t want you turning into a coward and running to the hills like my brother. Promise me you will always fight to better the family name and you will never give up like Hambone.’ The harsh sword of truth can be double-edged, good uncle. Don’t ya now go botherin’ an’ gettin’ up, us can find the door usselves,” Jon mocked before leaving.

  The men marched to their horses and rode in silence. Jon thought about his uncle Jasine and the vast difference between the two brothers. Jasine had raised Jon from the age of eleven until he was a man. His uncle had treated him like a son and Jon carried on that paternal kindness with Riceros and Brehan. Jasine had helped Jon in every facet of life, and even brokered the marriage pact with the Etburns. Jon looked at him as a second father and knew that without his noble uncle, he would have never turned Mattingly into a world power. Jasine had made Jon see the importance of knowledge and learning. The great man had aided Jon in almost every decision until he had left to visit the Great Library of Ton Abelisy four years ago. His boat had capsized on the way and Jon had mourned for several weeks over the loss. Jasine had often poked fun at his brother, Hambone, and those memories made Jon smile slightly.

  The men arrived back at the castle stables. “Don’t listen to him father, he’s a cantankerous old man,” Ruxin said. “Careful, don’t let him hear you with those pretty words,” Jon smiled. “At least he was exactly as I remember,” said Ruxin, a young man of little emotion as he gave his father a heartfelt hug. “You’re a great man, father and Duke. The words of a dwarf should never rattle the ears of a giant.” Jon never expected to receive words of encouragement from his youngest son. It brought a tear to his eye seeing his son as a grown man at only fifteen. He’ll make a great father.

  Jon awakened the next day with the rooster’s call but he still heard the mad ramblings of uncle Hambone resonating in his head. He sat up in bed and noticed Camelle sleeping next to him. She had her back to Jon but he could tell it was the love of his life. He became overjoyed and snuggled up behind her with his eyes closed. For some reason Jon couldn’t feel her body and opened his eyes. Only pillows and blankets appeared as Jon ripped through them, throwing the empty linens on the ground. Jon realized he had envisioned everything again. He had recently seen Camelle numerous times on his walks outside only to have her fade into the air before his very eyes, each and every time.

  He went to the Thinkers Tower to see what Count Sproul was fussing about. He leisurely walked up to the huge tower and the king of the scholars, Tormel, stood outside. “My Duke,” the old man dropped to a knee and then slowly rose with the help of Jon. “I am sorry for what those savages did to your family. Deepest condolences.”

  “Thank you, Tormel. Count Sproul mentioned you had something for me to look at, but I want to discuss a few things first,” Jon said. “Absolutely, my Duke, come in and we will sit.

  Jon entered to see the top minds of Mattingly tweaking inventions, reading and debating. Tormel took him over to a few chairs against the wall. “I want to focus on siege weapons right now. I want rolling siege towers one hundred feet high. We need to up production and make improvements to our existing models. Being in that hole taught me to be ready for anything,” Jon stated.

  “I will put the men on it, my Duke.” “We also need mobile bridges two hundred feet long. We need to be able to roll them up on land and drop them over the water to the other side. I want at least twenty and they have to be ten feet wide. We cannot be too safe anymore,” Jon warned.

  “We have been working on a weapon that may be perfect for this particular warfare. Come with me, my Duke.” Tormel led Jon over to a table in the corner of the room. The king of the scholars picked up a metal ball about the size of a large man’s fist and motioned toward the door. Jon stayed behind the old man as they walked out. They went to an open field a short distance from the Tower. They entered the testing a
rea for the thinkers’ inventions. They walked over to an onager, already set up. The catapult was already locked and ready to fire when they arrived.

  Tormel put the metal ball into the sling. Jon noticed a rag dipped in wax protruding like a wick. The old man called to two younger thinkers, who were testing a crossbow. One of the younger men lit a long torch and brought it over. “You do know how this works, yes?” Tormel asked.

  Both men nodded and readied to fire. “We should back up,” Tormel instructed. The two men moved twenty feet back. “You may wish to cover your ears. It will be a loud explosion, my Duke.”

  Jon became extremely intrigued. He covered his ears and watched the one man light the wick and the other fire the catapult. The flaming metal ball streaked through the air for over three hundred feet. Jon could see the shining silver bounce when the ball landed. He waited several moments, uncovered his ears and said, “I suppose there is no need to cover my…” “BOOM.”

  Jon crouched down instinctively. He had never heard a louder sound in all of his life. His ears buzzed and his hearing became distorted. Jon instantly realized this could change the game of war. They walked back to the Thinkers Tower in silence. Tormel knew it would be useless to try to talk to Jon before his ears recovered.

  As they neared the Tower, Tormel asked, “What do you think, my Duke?” Jon replied, “Very impressed but what exactly is it?”

  “It is a mix of elements that react with fire in an explosive way. They call it Dark Powder. It comes from the east and the recipe is nearly impossible to master. Only four of our hundreds of attempts have worked and they were small batches. We still need to figure out how to perfect the recipe and extrapolate it out for mass quantities. We are working diligently to make this happen, my Duke,” Tormel reported. “Be sure to keep me updated with the progress of that and the other items we discussed.” “Absolutely, my Duke,” Tormel bowed his head. Jon walked back to the castle, feeling more like the Jon of old.

  THE YOUNG HOPE

  Riceros didn’t sleep very well the days leading up to the contest for his life. His mind raced around from confident to nervous thoughts. He knew Dioneer couldn’t save him from the other Bigwuns’ starvation if he lost. The boy had become one with the longbow Dioneer had made for him. His biggest decision would be which arrow to use. On the day of the contest, he lined up with the other contestants near the firing area. The overcast afternoon created an ominous tone. He looked out of place with the other archers being full-grown men and standing several feet taller than Riceros. He could see the members of the audience pointing and snickering. Queen Hilda looked at him with a wicked smile as she sat in her chair, before being lifted high in the air. Riceros began to panic, thinking about the fact that no one had ever won the contest. He started to believe the contest was rigged and his death would soon follow. He went down to one knee to regain composure, when a trumpet sounded.

  The crier ran out to the white line and announced the contestants. Two men were to shoot before Riceros. The first man’s arrow barely made its way into the labyrinth of swords before breaking. The next man loosed and the fluttering projectile headed straight for the target.

  “CLANG.”

  That man was dragged away and Riceros’ hands sweated even more as the reality of probable death settled in. He pulled back on the bowstring to calm down his shaking body. He closed his eyes and remembered happy thoughts of practicing in the Riverfront woods with Jon Colbert and Brehan Castaway. He also thought about the lessons Count Sproul had taught him over the years. After relieving some tension, he tried to concentrate on his plan.

  His name was announced and fifty people looked on, expecting to see the little boy get fed to the Bigwuns. He set down his black board. Riceros walked up to the white line and faced the target. He turned around and took fifteen paces away from the shooting line. Riceros remembered the guards and crier saying the contestant had to be behind the line, not on it. Everyone laughed at the scrawny boy after he moved even further from the target. Riceros lined up the shot. He closed his left eye and focused on the target. He waited for the crowd and wind to die down and drew back. Riceros could feel the entire frame of his body beating with his heart. He released three fingers and the arrow fluttered in first flight. The specially crafted arrow straightened out and glided into the gauntlet of swords. Riceros felt confident until the arrow started to veer left toward the shining metal. The dejected contestant closed his eyes and lowered his head to accept defeat.

  “THUD.”

  The sound of the arrow tip sinking into the wooden target sent waves of shock rippling through the audience. The Queen fell from her high chair, landing on her loyal retinue below and then hitting the ground. Panic and utter terror dominated the scene as people scattered in every direction. He picked up his black board and ran up to the target. Riceros took the golden key to free the Bigwuns. The long key with intricate combed-tooth style grooves and a square bow gleamed in the emerging sunshine. The solid square bow had writing etched into it in a language Riceros didn’t recognize.

  As he went to open the pen, the Queen and her followers pleaded for Riceros to wait until they could escape the island. He looked at his black board and it said, “Release the Bigwuns now.” Riceros took heed and rushed over to the pen. He took the big golden key and inserted it into the opening. He used all his might to turn the key. Luckily for Riceros, the gate swung open in the other direction or he would have been smashed against the palisade. The imprisoned giants broke loose and tracked after their tormentors. They caught up to most of the men and women who lived in the castle and killed them. Queen Hilda managed to get away, but the Bigwuns had their island back thanks to Riceros. They carried him around on their shoulders and Dioneer came over. “We knew you could do it,” he said. His smile made the scary creature look like a gentle man. Dioneer looked like most of the other Cyclops. His cloudy gray eye was constantly bloodshot and hair only grew from a small patch on the top of his head, but hung down his back, below his knees. The Bigwun men couldn’t grow facial hair and didn’t have an eyebrow. Their bodies were thicker in proportion to a normal human. However, Riceros had noticed how fast they moved to catch some of their captors and their quick motions surprised him. The women had hair all over their heads and the features of normal women. Most of the Bigwuns’ lips couldn’t cover their sharp teeth and the wide, upturned nose looked to be a common trait.

  Count Sproul had told Riceros about the flight of arrows. The Thinkers of Mattingly had studied the pattern of an arrow in flight. Shortly after being loosed, an arrow flutters back and forth before steadying its path. Riceros knew his aim was true so if he backed away from the shooting line, the arrow would straighten out before it entered the narrow triangular opening between the swords. The other men never gave their arrows a chance by being too close. The freed people celebrated, and Riceros looked at his board.

  “Thou hath passed thy first test. Keep the key, thou shalt need it again. The next phase shalt occur on another island. Thou and Dioneer shalt go to the southern coast and the mermaids will guide you both to the next island and challenge. Upon arrival, thou shalt receive proper instructions.” The board went blank.

  Dioneer already knew about the plan, and the two went to the southern coast. The mermaids guided them to another island after an extended swim. The odd pair silently walked up the coast of the unknown island. He looked at his board and words appeared, “Thy next challenge is called the Maize Maze. An outdoor labyrinth containing corn stalk walls and savage protectors lies ahead. There is a diagram one mile north, outside the Maze. This shalt show where the second key is located inside the stalks. There are several beasts to be aware of. A three-headed guard dog of massive size, an ornery giant and a Brohan bull protect the key from intruders. Findeth the key and get back outside. Sounds rather simple in theory but don’t take this lightly.”

  The board went blank and Riceros tried to force his thoughts on the slab but they wouldn’t show up. Dioneer couldn’t r
ead and Riceros couldn’t talk so the boy had to take the lead. They moved inland and upward. The sandy beaches gave way to heavy woods. Dioneer spoke as they moved up the hill, “My people are forever indebted to you. We were locked away for so many generations. Nobody should have to watch their fathers, mothers, sons and daughters die after a miserable existence. We starved inside a massive pen, waiting to die. I often wondered if death could be worse than that life. We were forced to eat men who had lost a contest of the Queen’s device. We were treated worse than animals. The only thing we could do was talk and hope.”

  Riceros started seeing cornstalks and knew they were getting close to their second mission. He turned around and nodded at Dioneer when the giant spoke to show he was listening. Riceros wondered if the one-eyed man could even see him when Dioneer faced straight ahead. The Maize Maze and carved diagram came into view. The diagram consisted of a large flat piece of wood with the route to the key carved into it. Riceros immediately became entranced with the diagram and unknowingly walked closer to it. Dioneer stood behind Riceros and also stared at the puzzle. The boy learned the route within the first few minutes, which made him very nervous.

  He was a young boy, but had enough sense to know even a simple man could figure out this path to the key. That meant the dangers within were the reason for the previous failures. He had a Cyclops with him and still didn’t feel safe about this. They went off into the woods and found materials to make weapons. Dioneer made Riceros another longbow and more arrows. Then he sharpened wooden spears for himself. They studied the diagram one last time, and entered the Maze.

  Walls of thick, braided cornstalks stood about two feet taller than Dioneer. They grew together in a woven pattern and made for impenetrable walls. Only twenty feet into the Maze, and Riceros’ suspicion was confirmed. A small skeleton lay on the side of the path. The bones seemed to be even smaller than Riceros’. Even with the sun blazing overhead now, the dim Maze created an eerie feeling. They moved briskly with Riceros in front. Everything matched up with the diagram, until a growl sounded like nothing he had ever heard before. He quickly pulled his longbow and plucked an arrow from his hip quiver. Dioneer readied his spear and looked around. A sound echoed around the Maze and Riceros couldn’t tell if it came from in front or behind him. “Ruff, Ruff, Ruff.”