“The Corsairs we had thought were allies attacked, but their treachery was overcome when one man rose up from his position and rallied his fellows around him, commandeered one of the Corsairs’ own ships, rescued the noble leaders who were captive, then led the fight to retake control of our own ship,” the marshal read from a scroll.
“When an unnatural monster ambushed the ship,” the other marshal solemnly assumed the scroll and read on, “one man jumped into the sea to try to save a companion, and fought the monster beneath the water, then communed with dolphins to finish his task.”
“I told you he talked to dolphins!” Rhen said in a stage whisper to Sarai and Suseen.
“Misfortune continued, as the ship was wrecked on a reef, and good Prince Ellersby was killed in the destruction that resulted. But one man kept his head and rescued others who were in danger of being killed,” the great officer intoned.
“That was us – Ellie and me,” Rhen told the others.
“The reduced group reached land at last, and then began the task that no one had ever undertaken before, the march from Tripool to Foulata,” marshal moved the scroll ahead. “The terrain was difficult, the supplies were short, and the conditions were miserable. Many men were filled with doubt as they suffered during the long march, but one man shared his water supplies and his quiet courage to help his companions survive.
“When discouragement and poor judgment caused some leaders to misunderstand and misconstrue the heroism displayed during the trip,” Marco listened carefully to the implied criticism of Varsen and Argen, “one man withstood the mistreatment with manly dignity.”
“I like that part,” Ellersbine squeezed Marco’s hand.
“And when a devastating ambush started the slaughter of unprepared soldiers, one man led the counter-attack that ended the entrapment, and followed up by nursing the injured so that all recovered and finished their journey,” the second marshal continued to read the long recitation, though Marco could see men in the ranks starting to shuffle their feet.
“But when captives were taken from the column, and driven far from the others, one man pursued them alone, and set the captives free, then arranged for their safe return to the settled lands of the kingdom once again,” the marshal’s voice indicated that the end of the litany of events was approaching.
“This one man is a hero of the army and the people, and deserves an uncommon honor for his uncommon valor. We hereby call upon Marco to step forward, to receive our recommendation for the king’s medal of heroism, and to be field promoted to the rank of colonel in the army,” the second marshal finished the long speech at last.
The men on the field broke into thunderous applause and cheers, as Marco sat still for a moment, until Rhen reached over and pinched him. “Get up there,” she hissed.
Marco rose quickly to his feet, and the men standing in the yard redoubled their applause as he walked forward.
The marshal closest to him took a large, ornate medal insignia from an aide, and carefully pinned it to Marco’s shirt shoulder.
“That’s hardly a regulation uniform, but I think the insignia would suit anything you wore,” the man told Marco as he firmly shook his hand. He turned to face the soldiers in the yard. “I’d like to introduce you to your command. This column of men is officially placed under your orders until their next assignment is decided.”
The men laughed and cheered, until Marco repeatedly motioned for them to quiet down.
“I never thought I’d see all of you in clean uniforms again,” he observed dryly, making them all laugh, as they remembered the torn, faded uniforms they had worn thin before they finally made their return to Foulata.
“We hardly knew each other when we were herded on those ships together; isn’t that right Wilh?” he asked as he spotted the first man he had met when he had been positioned by Iasco to switch sides.
“That’s right Marco!” the foot soldier shouted back.
“Now, you all feel like brothers due to all that we shared. Many of you took care of me when I faced challenges,” he smiled at a man who had been a gentle, friendly guard when Varsen had isolated him. “I’m glad I was able to return the favor.”
The memory of having his identity changed by Iasco was in the forefront of his thoughts for the first time in weeks, as he recollected meeting Wilh. He was not truly one of these men, he knew, although he felt fully integrated in among the Docleateans now. Except his goal was to kill their king, when the chance came upon him, as Lady Iasco foresaw that it would. He lost his train of thought as he reflected on how different he was from what he had started out as.
The men were all staring at him attentively, and he realized he was standing silent.
“Words aren’t my best tool,” he said, “so I can’t tell you all how happy I am to see that so many of us are alive and together again. I can believe that no one else has ever done what we did, because it was tough. And I hope I never have to do it again!” he finished, drawing laughter and cheers. “And if I’m really your colonel, then I dismiss you for the rest of the day!” he drew a second round of cheers. “Captain Fyld, come join us after you release the men,” he finished up his appearance at the podium, and returned to seating area.
“Why don’t we all move into the officers’ club to have something to drink and talk?” Marshal Tanner suggested.
“So that Suseen and Sarai can see more eligible young officers?” Rhen asked mischievously. “Their eyes are already full!” she laughed.
“As if your eyes aren’t full of one particular officer!” Suseen retorted, as Fyld joined the group.
They were all soon seated at a pair of tables in an elegant room, and drinks were served.
“We hope to have Marco’s award presented by the king himself next week,” Coda told Prince Mersby.
“We have heard that Count Argen plans to lead an investigation of the march, and use it to denounce Prince Ellersby and Marco, and your niece, and to make himself look heroic. We want to have Marco declared a hero first, to establish the facts of the case before Argen can twist them,” the marshal said.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” Mersby said. He turned to Marco. “You truly are everything my niece says?” he asked. “And yet you act so humble in our home.
“Was Argen no help at all on the trip?” the prince asked.
“From what the men tell me, he was a coward and a bully and nothing more,” Marshal Coda interjected.
The prince looked at his wife for a long shared moment. “We’ll be in contact soon to let you know what help we can provide at court,” he said.
“That would be most appreciated,” Marshal Coda said gratefully. “The sooner we can secure our spot and spread our story of heroism, the better it will be for all of us.”
“Agreed,” Grace spoke up for the first time. She turned to Marco. “Are all these stories about your healing powers true? I apologize,” she turned to Ellersbine, “but I believed they were all a matter of interpretation through loving eyes.”
All eyes turned to Marco. “I do have an enchantment upon me that allows me to help people to recover their health,” he admitted.
“And it works by allowing others to suck on your finger?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded his head.
“Would you like to try it, your highness?” Rhen asked brightly.
“No,” Princess Grace answered sharply. “Not in public,” she added in a quieter voice, her face turning red. “I believe it’s true.”
“I’ll try it again,” Sarai offered.
“Not in public,” Grace said quickly.
“We’ll go home and learn more. The point of my question though, was that we can begin to introduce you to the people in the palace and allow you to treat them, so that you build good will,” she said.
“If we take him to the king’s harem, grandfather will be sure to hear about him,” Prince Mersby said mildly, with a twinkle in his eye.
Ellersbine head whipped arou
nd to stare at her uncle as she began to make a heated comment, then saw his smile and bit her lip.
“We thank you for our hospitality. Your ceremony was very nice, and we congratulate all your men who managed to survive what was clearly a harrowing experience,” the prince told the officers. “But we should be on our way. Will you have the carriages brought around for us?” he asked.
An aide was sent out in a rush, as the others rose, and walked to the exit at a more sedate speed.
They were soon all aboard the carriages, Marco instructed to ride with Mersby and Grace, while the four girls rode together in the second carriage. As soon as the carriage started to roll, Mersby leaned forward. “Take off your gloves, Marco,” he instructed.
Marco felt a lump in the pit of his stomach, but he did as instructed.
Grace reached forward gently and took both of Marco’s exposed golden hands in her own. He sat passively as she flipped them over under the watchful eye of her husband.
“Which one has this enchanted water?” she asked.
Marco wiggled the finger on his left hand, then leaned forward as she placed the finger in her mouth. She sputtered in surprise as his water flowed freely.
“Mersby! It’s real!” she turned to her husband.
“Are they all like that?” the prince asked.
“No, just the one finger. It was enchanted at a spring,” he said carefully.
“Why are they all golden if only one makes the water? Why are your whole hands golden?” the prince asked.
It had come at last. Marco had to decide what to say, how to answer; what to hide, what to reveal. His future, and Ellersbine’s future, were both at stake in the way he handled himself in the next few moments, he knew. His stomach grew tighter, and his vision grew constricted.
“My hands are filled with the power of sorcerers,” he concluded he had to tell the truth. “They’re golden because I’m a sorcerer.”
He felt Grace’s hands tighten their grip on his unconsciously in reaction.
“Ellersbine hasn’t mentioned sorcery,” Mersby said carefully.
“She’s seen very little of it,” Marco answered. “I try not to show it off. But she knows about it; I’m using it to keep her alive,” he paused to look at the strung-out line of energy that only he and his beloved could see.
“When I rescued her, she was dying. She had been badly mistreated. Healing her wasn’t enough,” Marco explained in a desperate voice as he recollected the horror of the princess’s state. “I had to use sorcery to keep her alive, and it continues to work to this day.
“If I use a great deal of my energy for anything else, it will diminish the energy I share with her, and she’ll suffer,” he added.
“Are you saying your heart is beating for her heart?” Grace asked as their carriage rolled down the street.
“It is,” Marco nodded
“Are you a strong sorcerer?” Mersby asked after he digested the implications of Marco’s story. “Apparently you are?”
“I think I am. I don’t really know many other sorcerers to compare myself with,” Marco answered.
“There used to be four great sorcerers at the king’s court: Iago, Iamblichus, Ilario, and Itterati. They did amazing things for the king, delivered powers to the king, delved into the darkness for the king, and went out to fight for him as well. They were unstoppable, and the source of terror for anyone and everyone in the court,” Mersby spoke. “And they lived for decades after decades, just as the king did, following and leading his search for eternal life.
“Word came back nearly two years ago that Iago had died; had been impossibly, accidentally killed in battle while he searched for the ingredients that would give the king eternal life. The king was badly shaken, and he was angry,” Mersby continued telling his story, as Marco momentarily cringed, knowing that it was a part of his own story the prince was telling.
“Don’t worry dear,” Grace squeezed his hands as she felt him tremble.
“Iamblichus told the king that he would pick up the mantle that Iago had carried, and he went north, to conquer the far northern realms where an old empire had once been strong. He went to conquer and avenge, and then to complete the task that Iago had begun. But you knew part of that, since you were in his first conquest, Athens, the city from which Iamblichus planned to launch his great campaign.
“Except, as you know, something went wrong. The northern barbarians were more united that our forces had thought, and they had sorcery powers of their own that were far stronger than Iamblichus expected. He had thought that he had eradicated – assassinated – the only great sorceress the northerners had,” Mersby was telling the tale that Marco knew so well, from a different perspective.
“The sorceress came back from the dead, and she or an ally somehow managed to kill Iamblichus. She came back from the dead! When the king heard that, I think he had more interest in her than he did in the loss of mighty Iamblichus, whose death we never learned much about.”
“His head chopped off as he flew through the air,” Marco said softly, remembering the horrific scene, one where he thought he was going to die, more terrifying than any experience he had ever known other that the confrontation with Echidna.
“What did you say? He was beheaded? How do you know?” Mersby asked.
“I was there; I saw it. I was in that part of Athens, near a fountain in a plaza in the city when it happened,” Marco could tell that much without giving anything away. “He was strong and powerful and gave all the soldiers confidence until a man with a sword jumped and chopped his head off, and then all the Docleateans lost hope.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Mersby commented.
“And so now only Itterati is left as the king’s great sorcerer at court; Ilario is away in some distant land the king sent him to. There are a dozen small ones, weak ones, those who can create a small spell here or there in some minor way,” the carriage was rolling up to the home where Ellersbine and her cousins were staying.
“And the king would be thrilled to gain a new sorcerer who has powers. He won’t let Itterati leave the court, but he needs someone to send out to continue his search for eternal life, or for the power to come back from the dead, as the northern sorceress did. As a great warrior, a man with enchanted powers, and a sorcerer to boot, you could become a great favorite of the king,” Mersby said.
The girls were disembarking from the other carriage.
“I suppose you’d like to spend time with the ladies, wouldn’t you?” Grace asked kindly.
The spell of Mersby’s riveting tale was broken. “I would like to see her, I mean them,” Marco agreed.
“Go on, go join them,” Mersby said. “We’ll talk to a few people on our way home, and we’ll expect to see you there this evening for dinner – shall we?”
“I’ll be there,” Marco answered, as he opened the door. “Thank you for today,” he told his hosts, and then he leaped free from the carriage and joined the other young people who were gathered together by the front steps, watching as their carriage rolled away.
Marco stepped over next to Ellersbine, and he placed his arm around her shoulder, hugging her tightly, desperate to feel the warmth of her love after feeling and remembering the fear of the two sorcerers he had killed.
“What’s wrong, Marco?” Ellersbine asked, sensing his troubled soul, the fear traveling across their shared energy.
“Nothing, now that I’m with you,” he answered tightly.
Chapter 31
The next morning, Mersby asked Marco to join him in his study after breakfast.
“We are going to go to the palace today,” the prince told Marco, whose eyes widened.
“What shall we do?” the newcomer to the city asked.
“We are going to go visit the palace steward, to mention both your upcoming award, and your special abilities, and then we will offer to demonstrate your services to the staff members he chooses,” Mersby said. “Why don’t you go put on your best clothes an
d we’ll go to the palace for the day.”
“I’ll do that sir,” Marco answered. He ran to his room, and pulled out the best of the clothes that Fara had ordered for him, penned a hasty note to Ellersbine explaining that he wouldn’t be coming to see her that day, then hurried back to the front hall. He asked the steward to have the message sent on his behalf, before he was out the door and in the carriage where Prince Mersby was waiting.
“A sorcerer, an enchantment, a warrior – Marco, you will be a much better spouse for Ellersbine than Argen,” the prince spoke as they rode. “As a matter of fact, roles may become reversed and we may ask you to assist the future fortunes of our daughters!” he smiled gently, trying to ease the nervousness that Marco felt.
They rode for several minutes before their carriage stopped at the palace gate, and a moment later a guard looked in the window discretely, then let the vehicle pass through. Marco stared out the window at the majestic, deep black structures that they passed. The statues were black, the walls of the buildings they passed were black, and even the crushed stone drives were black.
“Take off your gloves,” Mersby said as the carriage rolled to a stop shortly thereafter.
“But?” Marco looked at him.
“The golden hue of your skin will stand out, especially inside the palace. I should have realized that before. We want to play up your uniqueness, and the gold will lead to questions which will lead to acknowledging your strengths,” Mersby explained. He waited a second more, then began to climb out the door as the coachman held it open, while Marco hastily stripped his gloves off and followed him out.
The carriage had stopped at an impressive entrance to the vast palace building. “Sorry that we’re only using the side entrance, but since we aren’t here for a royal engagement, we aren’t entitled to the honor of the front,” Mersby pointlessly apologized to Marco, who was impressed nonetheless by the obsidian, black steel, and dark wood that formed the entry they used.
The doorman held the door and they stepped into a tall, wide hallway, one that was also black, but lit by glowing lanterns that appeared to have no flames within their glass.
The Southern Trail (Book 4) Page 30
