by Lloyd Baron
“Not to worry about the law, now. After all I am the Queen and can do what I please with the rules of my Kingdom. You will be free, Danlynn, as will you Riochald.”
Riochald pales but does not say anything.
From the bag Narmada pulls a bundle of rags and hands them to the confused man. He opens the rags and draws in a breath at the sight of ten silver arrowheads. No, nine. One of them is dull and made of steel. Oddly it is this dull one that he lifts and feels the weight of. He grins up at the Queen, who has retrieved a belt and quiver from the sack. He takes them from her with thanks and begins to examine them carefully.
“They are a masterpiece of craftsmanship,” he mutters. “I have never seen such a well-made quiver and strap.” He stands abruptly and fastens the quiver over his shoulder, across his body. “It’s so light! Thank you!”
“Not at all,” the Queen replies as she turns back with the next bundle, which she presents to Darwin’t.
He can feel his stomach tighten and wonders if the others had felt as sick and nervous before receiving their gifts. No, it is not the gift that makes him nervous—it is the name she is about to bestow upon him. Thief, Healer, Beast Master, Hunter all given out, and he can guess important for what was to come. However, he knows he is somehow more important than the others. That his role is to save the world and that his friends are his protectors. The thought fills him with a terror so deep and dark that he begins to shake.
It is then that he sees what the Queen is holding out for him. A night-blue hooded cloak with silver stars embroidered upon it and a small gold ring. He reaches out and touches the soft material with the very tips of his fingers. It is made of heavy cloth but feels like silk to the touch and the stars glitter in the candle light from above them. He resists taking the ring from the bundle until it rests within his lap. It is plain apart from a small round etching on the inside. He looks up at the Queen and waits for his title.
She looks at him and smiles, but it is forced and not very bright. He feels sick. His stomach cramps and he can feel thick bile gushing into his throat. He heaves and only just turns his head in time. The yellow liquid hits the screen beside him and pools around the base of his chair. A booted foot moves away from the puddle behind the screen and he remembers Canace’s pleading look not to give away who is behind it. He glances up at the Queen, who is looking at him with an apologetic expression, and he is thankful that she does not look at the sick. He swallows to rid his mouth of the taste and wipes at his chin with the sleeve of his tunic.
“Sorry,” he mutters weakly.
“Not at all. I left you until last because I thought it would make you at ease, but I was wrong to do so. I was told you would know your own importance.”
Darwin’t forces his twisting stomach to settle and calmly looks her in the eye. “What is my name?”
“You are the Dreamer, the Shield and the Destroyer.”
He feels himself slipping away from the room, falling into a safe place within his mind, but catches himself and forces a nod. “I knew I was important. I didn’t say how important I thought I was to my friends but I believe they are my protection. That I alone have to stop this and they are my bodyguards if you will. I have dreamed this over and over.” He looks down the line of his friends, into their worried expressions and concerned eyes. “It’s always the same dream. Danlynn with his bow and arrows. Canace on her horse, searching. Riochald tending to an injured man.” He looks up at the imposing figure of Fia Sharphorn and nods towards him. “He is the injured man. You two are covered in a darkness which Riochald is frightened of, but you don’t notice.” The big man stands and glances between him, Riochald and the Queen. Riochald just glares at the big man.
“Tarfleam is sneaking around in the shadows—”
“Nothing new there, then,” chuckles Danlynn as he reaches over to pat the man’s knee. Tarfleam looks daggers at him before snatching his shimmering cloak from the floor. He sits back and remains quietly angry.
“Danlynn!” Riochald snaps.
“What?” he replies, innocently holding out his hands.
Darwin’t ignores the outburst and continues. “Derry’n has his bandanna on, but also baggy breaches and he is always cooking or packing our bags. There is also a girl with a flowing gown who looks deadly, with twin blades hooked on her belt. And then there is the girl with the wings of light that we all dreamed about.”
“What are you doing in these dreams?” Canace asks in a tiny voice.
He fixes his eyes onto hers and for her alone he whispers, “I’m looking at you,” and then for the group he adds, “I am looking into the sky. I don’t know what for, yet I am always looking up at the sky.”
An intense and uncomfortable silence fills the room. No-one will look another in the eye, and no-one wants to be the first to speak.
The silence seems like it will last forever, when it is broken by an unlikely source.
“What is there left in the cabinet?” Tarfleam mutters quietly, but it sounds loud in the silence.
As if working on a cue, Gareth steps aside to reveal weapons. Darwin’t sees everything then from his dream. The gold hunter’s bow belonging to Danlynn. The long and short dagger set which will be tied around Tarfleam’s waist. Two knives that he can remember seeing on the girls and a set of small hammers and axes with their curved blades which he knows belong to Derry’n. The big sword at the back of the cabinet is what sat beside Fia in his dream and the twin scimitars he saw on the gowned woman. That leaves the sword with the moon etched on the blade. He had not dreamed it, but he knows instantly that it belongs to him.
“We will sort the weapons out once you are ready to travel,” the Queen says.
“Travel?” Riochald repeats darkly. “Explain.”
The Queen looks back at her and for an instant her eyes narrow with hate. Darwin’t thinks she is about to explode into a rage but she regains her regal calm and begins to explain.
“The same Dark Clan that brought me these weapons and items also gave me instructions to relay to you.” She waits for all of them to settle and look at her before continuing. “You are to travel to where he awaits you in the Dark Clan city of Galvalou, in the hills west of the mountains of Vev. He will train you in the roles he has foreseen; and then take you to the Angel city of Gossa-Mesa; where the Prophecy will be revealed to you.” She turns to face Fia Sharphorn. “As you may have guessed from Darwin’t’s tale, you are to travel with them.” The big man goes to argue, but she holds up a hand and silences him. “The Princess will be safe here. We have the best army and all the Mages we need to keep her from harm.” She regards the group again. “I am informed that one other will join you, and I have items for her and instructions; but she has yet to reveal herself. You are to journey to Galvalou right away.”
“What about the crime of kidnapping?” Gareth says. “The citizens will want open bloodshed for such a crime. They already know we have the kidnappers and will be expecting a public hanging.”
“Maybe we should have a fake hanging,” Fia mutters.
“How so?” the Queen asks.
“We have other cells with murderers in them waiting for their sentences. Not all of those were to be public executions. We could dress them up and lay the charges upon them.”
“But they would be innocent of the crimes!” Canace wails.
“But guilty of many others, my child,” Narmada insists. “The child-killers that were to be sent back to Gamblet. They will be the ones. Send word to the Prime informing him that they have killed themselves and that we will send him their bodies, if he so wishes.”
“It will also be a good diversion,” Derry’n says.
The Queen raises an eyebrow and urges him to explain.
“The dark man who has been after us. He will know we were the ones after the Princess. If he gets word of our deaths, he will give up his search of us.”
Darwin’t feels a sudden rush of affection for the man. He is so smart and fast within his slow o
uter shell. He can’t wait to become friends with the man and learn all about him. He will get the opportunity soon enough when they depart for the Dark Clan city.
The Queen abruptly stands and rubs her stomach. “I am famished. I will have food prepared and brought to the dining hall. Gareth will show you to rooms and I’ll send for you when the feast is prepared. I will have clothes delivered to your rooms and towels so that you can wash. The rooms are all fitted with kettles to heat water. I also would like you to create a name for yourselves. Three men with names beginning with the letter D will draw attention. I will have parchment and writing materials brought to you as well. These names will be yours as you travel, so take care to use them and choose a name you like. You’ll be using it from now on. Now, we all have lots to think about and prepare. I may not see you before you depart. I have meetings all evening. Good luck, all of you.”
Darwin’t watches his friends file out of the room after Gareth Zian but before he leaves he turns to the Queen. “You will watch her closely, the Princess?”
The Queen’s response is a smile.
The door closes behind Darwin’t Utsa, and the Queen sags into her seat. She had been terrified during the opening of the cabinet and distribution of the items. For suns they had sat in there gathering dust. She had never believed they would be needed within her lifetime. Hoped they never would.
Fia steps up behind the chair and places a huge hand upon her shoulder. She pats it and takes comfort from his touch. He is a fine young man who will go far within the Palace, if he gets the chance.
The screen at the side of the room crashes to the floor. Narmada and Fia jump to attention, the big man stepping in front of the Queen to protect her.
Narinda looks up at them; tears wet on her cheeks and hate filling her eyes. “I had a brother!” She screams. “You lied to me! I hate you, both of you!”
Fia steps aside and lets the Queen pass. She holds her daughter close and lets her weep. “I had to protect you,” she coos. “I always have.”
“You still do,” Fia says. “More than ever.”
26
CLOTHES
Darwin’t looks at his clean face reflected back at his from a large standing mirror. He has always looked pale with shadows under his eyes, but compared with the ghost he has become he used to look healthy.
The room he has been placed in is twice the size of his house in Hillsbough, but is sparely furnished with only a large double bed, desk with stool and the mirror. The walls are painted white and are smooth like marble, and the floor is contrasting in a jet black. No tapestries adorn the walls and no rugs cover the floor. A simple but expensive midnight blue quilt covers the bed and provides the only color in the room. He had fallen onto that bed and into a dreamless slumber.
He woke to find a servant laying folded garments beside him. She smiled a pretty smile before leaving. She did not speak to him. He got up and walked to the window and was disappointed to find the sun had only moved by an hour or so. He was still so tired.
He touches his hair, pushing it up behind his ears and groans as it flops back in front of his eyes. He preferred his hair short but has not had it cut since the beginning of the new sun. That was six months ago. It was planned that Riochald would cut it the morning of his birthday and the beginning of his journey to be bonded with Canace, another life away now.
At least he is clean now. The Queen had not been wrong about the warm water but she had failed to mention the strange way they wash here in the palace. An arch the size of a doorway, cut into the wall at the back of the room had the kettle placed within it. At first he had not known what to do but he had soon worked it out. He poured the warm water from the kettle onto the floor of the alcove and stepped within it. It came up to his ankles.
On the wall was a strange wheel with a handle. He found that turning the wheel pumped the water from the floor to a hole high up on the wall. It began drizzling out, but a few more turns had built up the pressure and the water flowed quickly over his worn tired body. It was only when the water had run cold did he realize he had been standing in the small alcove turning the wheel for almost an hour.
What a marvelous invention. The feeling of the warm water running over his body, taking the stress from his muscles and grime from his skin was relaxing and calming. They should take one of these back to Gressgs and fit it into the inn, charging a copper for each use. It would become the village’s biggest attraction.
He had caught sight of his nakedness briefly in the mirror and had been horrified at the waste in his body. He has always been a skinny man, all elbows and knees, but never before had he been able to see his ribcage. His high cheekbones which are a hit with the girls are sharp and prominent and his eyes so sunken that his face looks like a skull. He did not want to look at himself, so he hurried over to the bed to dress.
The clothes were in the southern style. Tight breaches and white socks, a plain white shirt with scroll-work embroidery over the chest and down the long sleeves, a short jacket with a small collar and silver buttons finish the outfit. The breaches and jacket are both dark blue. Not as dark as the quilt, but he realizes that they almost match the hooded cloak he had been given by the Queen.
He returns to the mirror and stares at his clothed form. They hang from him, but he guesses that they will fit once he has replaced the weight he has lost. All he needs is to eat well for the next few weeks and he is sure they will fit him well.
He glances at the writing desk and the parchment which has been placed upon it. Beside it is a small jar of black ink and a pen. Looking at himself once more he tries to think of a name that fits with the man clad in dark blue. He had once read a story about a man from the south who had traveled the world as a gleeman, telling tales of the old days and singing songs for dancing. He wore a cloak covered in stars. His cloak was red, but the stars had given him an idea.
The name suddenly presents itself to him and he hastily unscrews the jar of ink, dips the nib of the pen into it and scrawls the name down. He smiles to himself. He is going to be a gleeman.
Danlynn had walked into the room and without even glancing around his surroundings had jumped onto the bed and wrapped himself up in the leaf green quilt. Sleep had come over him and he stayed in his hot cocoon for well over three hours.
Once he is up and out of the bed he has his first look at the room he is in. The walls are white and smooth like the surface of water and the floor is black like the night sky. He realizes that the only thing with any color in it is the quilt. His eyes catch something that has been placed upon the bed. He shivers slightly at the thought that someone has been in the room while he slept.
He steps up to the bed and lifts the pale green breaches, only a shade lighter then the quilt, and feels the material. It is soft, but his rough hands drag at it and send a shudder up his arm. He drops them down and continues his study of the room. There is an archway in the corner which does not seem to go anywhere, a desk with a simple stool and a large stand mirror.
He decides to have a closer look of the alcove. A black kettle sits on the floor within the alcove. He pats the side of it and is surprised to find that it is still hot. He ponders it for a moment but shrugs it off. It is then that he realizes that there is not a bath in the room. He rolls his eyes and undresses from his grubby worn clothes and steps into the alcove. He begins pouring the warm water slowly over his head so that it runs over his dirty skin.
How inconvenient. His arms ache from holding up the heavy kettle that he does not enjoy the feeling of the water cleaning him. When the kettle is out of water he drops to a crouch and splashes the water that has collected there over his legs and chest, scrubbing at himself to clean. Maybe this is a child’s room as the bath is so small. That must be it.
Once dry he dresses in the clothes left for him. They are a perfect fit. The breaches end at his knees and the white socks run up to meet them. The ivy embroidered white shirt rest gently against his slender chest and the jacket settles on his w
aist. He flexes and is satisfied with the feel of the clothes. He has never worn such comfortable garments. He glances down at the rags he had been wearing and his smile fades. That is who he is. The poor farmer who works in the hills not this richly dressed gentleman.
He steps in front of the mirror and gasps at his appearance. Apart from his mop of tangled hair he looks every inch the lord. Forgotten are his farmer’s clothes. This is the man he is meant to be.
Something will have to be done about the hair.
He turns his attention to the desk and the writing materials that have been placed there. He remembers then what the Queen said about thinking of a new name. He excitedly pulls out the stool and drops down onto it.
“Who would I want to be?” He asks himself out loud. Then a name comes to him, the most famous lover in known history, a man who traveled the world wooing women and making love to them. He grins to himself as he unscrews the ink jar and begins to scribble down the name.
He will be the next great lover of women.
Derry’n thanks the guide and gives Canace a reassuring smile as the rest of the group make their way down the hall. His heart flutters at the sight of her smile back at him and he lingers in the doorway watching her move away. Sadness runs a hand across his chest and he takes a deep breath to dispel it.
He has loved Canace Al’drea for as long as he can remember. She is the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes upon, and her kindness is famous back home in Gressgs. It had been the thought of leaving her that had kept him in the hills when he should have been searching for his birthplace. She made him happy with her kind words, any words from her are like rays of light in his sad dark life.
