The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition

by C. Craig Coleman

  Signaling the audience was over, the chamberlain approached to escort the men out as the chatra rose and headed for the door at the rear of the hall.

  “This way, please,” the chamberlain said.

  “One moment, Lord Chatra,” Saxthor said across the marble hall. “The queen will not be pleased to hear you’ve dismissed her representatives. She’ll be most displeased you would prevent us from conferring with the prince, her cousin.”

  The chatra spun around, an ingratiating smile plastered on his face. The man clasped his nervous hands. “I’ve heard rumors that a powerful person high up at the southern court was traveling the peninsula.”

  He signaled the chamberlain to come closer, then spoke in his ear. “It would be a dangerous mistake for the chatra to offend such a person traveling incognito. Better to indulge these fools than to risk offending the queen. Perhaps we might convince the prince to meet these people, just in case.”

  “My apologies, gentlemen,” the chatra said in his oily tone. “I’m forgetting the time-honored right of petition. I shall prepare the prince for your visit tomorrow morning if you’ll return then at the official hour for such a presentation. I’m sure the prince will be most pleased to receive you.”

  The men offered their thanks and pleasantries as prescribed by court protocol. They turned to the chamberlain, who’d stopped fidgeting. He led the petitioners back to the moat between the inner and outer baileys. The Captain of the Guard seemed somewhat surprised to see the men return but escorted them back to the sergeant at the primary entrance gate.

  “Did you have a pleasant visit with the prince?” the sergeant asked. He grinned at the guards around him. Flaunting his victory, the smirk and tone revealed the man knew they didn’t see Prince Henri. Saxthor saw the gesture irritated Bodrin more than him.

  “We have an appointment in the morning,” Bodrin said.

  The sergeant’s smug look melted. “We’ll be seeing you again tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes, we’re returning tomorrow, Sergeant,” Saxthor said before Bodrin got in deeper, and trouble came of it. They left the gateway and were lost in the throng beyond, routinely going about their daily business.

  That night at the inn, they had dinner brought to Saxthor’s room. The four of them ate and planned what they would do should the prince not intervene, and the chatra try to imprison them.

  “Hendrel, you’ll stay behind and get word to Memlatec should we not return,” Saxthor said. “The palace guards don’t know of your involvement. They’ll think they have all the loose ends tied up if they imprison us. The chatra is the key. He seems to think he rules in Hoya. Prince Henri’s situation is a mystery, but evidently this pompous minister is in control.”

  “We’ll just get the audience with the prince and see how things stand from there,” Tournak said. “Hendrel, you and Delia must move to another inn tomorrow in case someone followed us from the Hoyahof.”

  The next day, Tournak, Saxthor, and Bodrin were at the entrance gate at the appointed hour. The sergeant was more polite and ushered the men to the chamberlain. The chamberlain was as polite as before but visibly more nervous ushering the men into the chatra’s reception hall.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” the chatra said. “We shall go at once to your audience with Prince Henri.”

  Without further discussion, the horrid little man led the three visitors through the bailey walls and across the now weedy courtyard to the colossal keep. Saxthor grew more worried knowing the princes of Hoya wouldn’t receive public petitioners in the keep’s private halls. The chatra seemed to anticipate the thought and smiled.

  “The prince has been indisposed recently and not up to public functions. I hope you’ll not mind his seeing you in his private apartments.”

  “It’s most gracious of his highness to receive us in his convalescence,” Saxthor said. This exchange was in deadly earnest.

  They walked in silence across the courtyard and up the keep’s heavily guarded stairs climbing past the first three formal levels toward the more private quarters. Finally, they came to the former court wizard's windowless chamber, now a state bedroom.

  The chatra waved the two guards away and tapped on the door. After a moment, a weak voice said to enter, and they did so.

  “Your Highness, I wish to present Lord Tournak and his party from Konnotan. Gentlemen, may I present Prince Henri Tulak de Hoya? Your Highness, these gentlemen wish to present their greetings from Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin in Konnotan.”

  Propped up on pillows on his bed, the prince seemed to be in a trance. He said nothing beyond a greeting, just stared at them or the wall with no sign of recognition.

  Saxthor was alarmed. Henri should have recognized Tournak, at least. Had the chatra drugged him? Was he in a stupor or so feeble he was beyond hope? Saxthor wondered. In any case, Henri wouldn’t take their warnings. They could say little of value with the chatra standing beside the bed, listening to every word. Saxthor began uttering courtly platitudes to end the silence accentuating his shock. His companions stared at the dazed prince. The chatra must have seen the looks, too, as he tried to excuse Prince Henri.

  “You must come back again when the prince is feeling better.”

  “Is the prince drugged or under some spell?” Bodrin asked before Saxthor could stop him.

  The prince glanced at the panicking chatra, who stepped forward.

  “I can’t allow you to report the prince’s condition back to Neuyokkasin. Guards, place these imposters under arrest. Take them to the dungeon until I can decide what’s to be done with them.”

  * * *

  Memlatec went back and forth from supporting Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin at court to work in his tower. On one such trip, he contemplated the kingdom’s troubles.

  Neuyokkasin was rapidly declining. Demand was drying up for tackenbeck, the kingdom’s principal cash crop. Traffic on the River Nhy from Olnak to Lake Pundar was down by a third that Fall. The inns, warehouses, and distributors of products between Tixos, Powteros, and Neuyokkasin were petitioning the court for relief. Nobles worried about the mood of their tenants in the countryside. There was so much unrest; the wizard grew concerned for the stability of the monarchy itself.

  In his tower workroom, Memlatec questioned what his powers could accomplish. He walked out on the balcony and stood beside Fedra, who watched the western horizon. The wizard looked at the great bird, whose dark brown feathers flipped up randomly when fingered by the wind.

  “In the queen’s grandfather’s time, the kingdom primarily consisted of small, independent farmers. Trade was in its infancy. I can alter a river flow to bring water or whip up a storm for rain in an emergency, though I’m reluctant to interfere with the weather. However, I can’t make the people buy to stimulate the economy. The current conditions are beyond my control, and the Dark Lord won’t hesitate to exploit the economic adversity. Earwig will be sure he knows of it.”

  Fedra looked up at Memlatec, listening patiently if indifferent to man’s plight.

  “There’s been no word from Saxthor or Tournak since our meeting at Hyemka. From the negative energy surges close by, I think Earwig has conjured evil beings. She’s most likely sent them against Saxthor. The first must not have succeeded if she brought in the second. Saxthor is still alive, or I would have felt his energy dissipate. They may have wounded or imprisoned him. I’ve no way of telling that without Earwig sensing me searching for the boy. Then she could trace the energy probe to the prince himself. I’ll have to risk an ornsmak to get word to Saxthor at least.”

  Memlatec concluded his monolog, and Fedra hopped into the air, soaring off on the thermals. The wizard went back inside to his wall of cabinets. He took two large crystals, one a topaz turned blue by wizard-fire and the other a yellow citrine. A third one he needed was not in its designated small drawer. Memlatec searched surrounding drawers jostling the contents and stirring up their dust, but the crystal wasn’t there. In a dither, the old wizard went to the door an
d called for Aleman. He collected the other ingredients while he waited for the old housekeeper to climb the tower’s endless stairs.

  I really should get a new housekeeper, thought Memlatec. Aleman is too old to be climbing those stairs, but I’m used to him.

  He confided in the great horned owl. “I can remember spells not used in a century, yet I can’t recall Aleman’s real name. I’ve called him Aleman since right after employing him, having discovered he was tapping the ale at every opportunity. Since he didn’t drink excessively or let it affect his work, I put a spell on the ale barrel, and it never empties.”

  Memlatec chuckled. He moved to the table, arranging and rechecking his ingredients. He placed the crystals in small woven baskets, preventing their chipping on the granite table. He checked over his shoulder to be sure Aleman wasn't sneaking up on him. He hated to admit to their unspoken reliance on each other over more years than he wanted to recall.

  A knock at the chamber door ended the reminiscing. Memlatec willed the door to open, and there stood the poor old Aleman wheezing, his belly sagging.

  “You called?” Aleman asked.

  “Have you been cleaning in here? I’ve told you not to clean in here.” The wizard presented his best frown, reflecting the crime’s seriousness. “I’m missing a rhodolite garnet: a deep fuchsia-red stone about the size of a quail egg. It’s supposed to be in one of these cabinet drawers, and it’s not here.” Memlatec shoved a small drawer shut with a clack.

  “I ain’t been in this dustbin in more than a month — the mess you make up here snows on everything downstairs. The whole tower’s a dust storm. It’s a wonder I keep food on the table for having to clean up after you. I’m the one you call to sweep up feathers, parts, and other shreds of dried I-don’t-know-what. And that moon-dust stuff you’re always throwing about, especially after I just dusted, it gets on everything.” Aleman babbled on.

  Good grief, the old thing is winding up for a real tirade this time, Memlatec thought. I should have known better than to call him up here. He will just go on and on. Better find the rhodolite myself while the old fool blows out his own storm.

  Memlatec shook his head and turned back to the cabinet, searching the cubicles and small drawers again for the misplaced garnet. Aleman rattled on for the better part of five minutes. Finally, Memlatec could take no more and turned with a threatening stare fixed on the oblivious old man.

  “Enough!”

  Aleman stopped mid-sentence. He turned to leave, then got in the last word. “I didn’t touch your dusty old rock. Serves you right, losing it; this place needs a good cleaning.” He headed down the stairs, still mumbling.

  Bang! The door slammed shut. Memlatec grinned. He’d allowed the old fool to get in the last word. “Now, where did I put that rhodolite? Can’t create an ornsmak without that garnet.”

  He thought about the Cobalt Blue Sapphire of Loyalty and checked around the room again to be sure he was alone. He whispered a spell and clapped his cupped hands together. A circle of blue wizard-fire wobbled through the air and opened a portal to a small, hidden cavity in the seemingly solid stone wall. Memlatec took a copper box that repelled searching energies from the middle shelf. He opened it to be sure the sapphire was still there. Feeling secure once again, the wizard put the box back on the shelf, and there was the rhodolite garnet he was looking for beside it.

  “Oops,” he said, looking over to the owl. “I must have left it there when I hid the sapphire. I’ll have to apologize to Aleman later.” He chuckled, thinking of the old man grumbling downstairs as he resealed the niche.

  On his worktable, Memlatec set a rock crystal bowl inside a copper stand. The stand had three attached stems crowned with smaller bowls to hold crystals. Into each of these buttressed settings, the wizard set one of the primary-colored, semi-precious gems.

  Memlatec hurried, noting the sun’s angle. In a snatch of time, the midday autumn sun would reach the correct angle, strike the large crystal placed in the window, and refract the light in its composite spectrums onto the worktable. Memlatec checked his crystal alignments. “I’ll align the primary color spectrums to the corresponding crystals that will focus and concentrate beams into that crystal bowl and its ingredients.” He pointed to the bowl and looked at the owl, who blinked and went back to sleep. Memlatec continued with his thoughts aloud, “With the help of a spell, the resonating energy will transform the ingredients into an ornsmak. The blank ornsmak will remain plasma for only a quarter-hour, long enough for me to infuse my message and a picture or two before the ornsmak converts to energy, the state it retains until its recipient unlocks it. You see?”

  The owl turned to face the wall and silence.

  After creating the ornsmak, Memlatec spoke his message into the plasma. He told Saxthor of the kingdom’s continued decline since they spoke last. He continued, “I worry the Dark Lord has already sent agents through the South to determine the state of preparedness along the peninsula. Saxthor, you must be on the lookout for these hidden spies wherever you go.” As the plasma’s color faded, Memlatec closed, “Clasp your hands around the ornsmak and concentrate on me. In so doing, the ornsmak will warm and energize again, and you can speak into it with a return message. They know you’re back on the continent now, so tell me of your progress.”

  The wizard knew Tournak neither knew how to create ornsmaks nor had the elements to do so. Tournak would know that if Saxthor clasped his hands around the hologram, and concentrated on Memlatec, it would re-energize the message medium and cause it to return to him. In so doing, it would communicate back that Saxthor was alive and display the prince’s response. With that done, Memlatec sent the ornsmak on its way. Then he returned to war preparations.

  * * *

  The guards from outside Prince Henri’s chamber overwhelmed Tournak, Saxthor, and Bodrin. They dragged their prisoners down the keep’s back stairs and through the inner bailey tunnels to a dungeon close to the Talok Mountains. Saxthor heard the chatra’s last command.

  “Chamberlain, tell the guards to keep those men in the dungeon until I, the chatra, decide what’s to be done with them. I still don’t know who they are or what their connection to the court at Konnotan might be. If they’re minor dignitaries, maybe no one would notice their absence. If they’re more important, the queen may send a bigger force to find them and discover my activities before my usurpation is complete. For now, I’ll send a discrete messenger to Konnotan to discover who they are. Unfortunately, the only name I have is Tournak.”

  *

  “Soldiers I don’t know have replaced the Tashian guards that always guarded the Castilyernov Hoyahof,” Tournak said when they were alone. He scanned his surroundings. “This cell is mined out of the mountain’s solid granite. There’s no escape by tunneling.”

  “I don’t remember hearing of a Tashia,” Saxthor said.

  “Me neither,” Bodrin said, examining the ominously small food bowls. “We must’ve skipped the court school the day that bit of trivia was covered.”

  “Tashia was a town below Lake Lemnos that sent its soldiers to raise the siege of Hoya in its early history,” Tournak said. “That left Tashia undefended. The sacrifice was great, but it saved Hoya when King Henri Tulak the First had just founded the kingdom of Talok-Lemnos. Ever after, the honor of guarding the castilyernov has always gone to Tashians.”

  Saxthor grabbed the cell’s iron bars. “Prince Henri would never have violated such a time-honored tradition.”

  “The chatra is replacing the prince’s household with people loyal to himself,” Tournak said. “Either the chatra aspires to the throne, or he was sent by the Dark Lord to secure the key southern defense of the peninsular in preparation for an invasion.”

  “What will they do with us?” Bodrin sat in the straw at the back of the cell.

  “Who knows,” Saxthor said.

  Saxthor should’ve weighed the mission’s importance against that of checking on his cousin’s condition, Tournak thought. Having t
o make unpleasant choices is a rocky experience on the road to maturity. The boy’s mistake endangers the mission and us.

  “What’re you thinking about, Saxthor?”

  “I’m thinking I got us into this mess before thinking it through,” the penitent prince said. “Now, I don’t know how to get us out of this.”

  That evening, three guards passed by, pushing a cart carrying a whole, raw ox leg. Tournak thought it out of place that the dungeon wouldn’t be on the route to the kitchens. Soon a terrifying, guttural scream echoed through the dungeon from below. The men looked at each other, unnerved.

  “That scream was like nothing I’ve ever heard,” Bodrin said. Several more muffled screams pierced the dungeon as if the source had something in its mouth. The men speculated until the guards again passed by their cell.

  “What was that screaming?” Saxthor asked. His hands gripped the cell bars. “You torturing someone below?”

  “Shut up; don’t be asking no questions,” the guards’ leader said.

  Later in the evening, the Dungeon Keeper came by with the prisoners’ evening meal. He wasn’t like the other guards. The other guards were in uniform and made disparaging remarks to the untidy keeper as he passed.

  “You been around here long, old man?” Saxthor asked.

  Tournak got the impression the man didn’t get much company or attention.

  The keeper started babbling. “I been the Dungeon Keeper for twenty-seven years of the prince’s reign. There won’t much to do. We almost never had a prisoner. Then that new man come and within a month were made chatra. No one thought much about it until the nasty little man started demanding attention above his place.”

  “The chatra has been prime minister for only a month?” Saxthor asked.

  “Yep, that’s what I said,” the keeper continued, visibly annoyed at the interruption. He looked back up the cellblock and nodded, pointing out the guards. “These here new men what the chatra brung in from up north replaced all them old guards. The Tashian guards complained to the prince. He sided with them at first, but then he weren’t seen in public for a while.” The scruffy old man looked down at the floor and paused, his hands on the bars like Saxthor’s.