Royal Exile

by Fiona McIntosh

  Kirin dressed slowly, gingerly. He did begin to feel slightly better and finally pulled on his boots, his most precious belongings. He’d spent almost a moon’s wages on having them crafted by Cremond’s cobbler to the nobles, and he felt reassured to have them back on his feet. He stepped out of the infirmary and into the sunlit morning where Freath awaited him. The aide was right. It was a day to lift anyone’s spirits. The fragrance of roses was on the air, not a cloud could be seen, joyous birdsong combined with the sound of bees buzzing excitedly around the wild darrasha bushes that grew in a haphazard fashion around these outbuildings.

  “It’s criminal that a day could dawn so bright when the world itself is so very dark,” Kirin said, for the first time feeling the complete helplessness of their situation. Of all the Vested, he’d been the one that kept everyone’s spirits up, had determined to personally stay strong and optimistic. And now almost all of those innocent people had been slaughtered. He hated Loethar for that but he hated Freath, a man of the Set, so much more. “It feels as though there is no reason to breathe,” he added, the despair that he had kept at bay since Loethar had first entered the Set spilling over.

  “You’re alive, Master Kirin,” Freath said. “I hope I don’t need to remind you again.”

  “For whatever good that will do me,” Kirin muttered.

  Gavriel’s and Leo’s mouths were stuffed full of ham and bread. Amazing what feeding a starved belly can do for the spirit, Gavriel thought. Leo was grinning, chewing hungrily.

  Gavriel swallowed. “Mmm, even the plainest food tastes like a feast when you’re hungry, doesn’t it?”

  Leo nodded enthusiastically. He took a gulp from the milk flask but still couldn’t speak for his full mouth.

  Gavriel pushed the last of his bread and cheese into his mouth and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Right!” he said, giving a soft belch that amused Leo. “It’s time to make some plans,” he continued.

  Leo had finally swallowed his last mouthful too. He mimicked Gavriel with a quick but suppressed burp and a final swig of the milk. “It’s time to go,” he said.

  “Pardon?” Gavriel had not expected this reaction. If anything he had thought Leo would be frightened about leaving the security of his home and the ingress.

  Leo shrugged. “We can’t stay here much longer. You got lucky with the food, Gav, but what about later this evening when we’re hungry again, or tomorrow morning when we’re cranky because of it or tomorrow night when we feel starved? It may be impossible to get food again.”

  “Water’s our real problem,” Gavriel added gloomily. “I guess King Cormoron didn’t plan such a hasty retreat into the ingress, or he would have made provision.”

  Leo shrugged. “He probably believed he would stock it with necessities if he ever needed to use it to hide from enemies. Anyway, we have to leave. My father is dead, my mother looks like she’s given up, Piven is lost. There’s nothing to stay for.”

  “We can learn everything that Loethar’s up to.”

  “But why? We’re helpless here. It’s not like we can do anything with that knowledge.”

  Gavriel nodded. “You’re right.” But he had no plan.

  “Gav, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Dangerous,” Gavriel joked.

  Leo grinned sadly. “I was thinking about what it is to be Penraven’s king.”

  Gavriel sighed. “Leo, you’re suddenly so much more. From what we’ve heard, seen and can work out, all of the Set Kings have fallen. In every other realm’s palace so have the families. Everyone is either dead or incarcerated. It might be that you are the only heir who is currently alive…but more importantly, the only one who is potentially free.”

  Leo frowned. “The thing is, no one who should know is aware I’m alive, are they?”

  Gav shook his head.

  “So even being free is useless to the Set unless…well, unless I declare that I’m alive.”

  “And we won’t be doing that! It’s not safe yet,” Gavriel replied, taking a high-handed tone.

  “No, but don’t you see, I might as well be dead along with my father and sister, or lost like Piven and mother, if I don’t fulfill my destiny. Just keeping me alive isn’t enough.”

  “Destiny?”

  “Father talked about it all the time.”

  “Did he?”

  Leo nodded. “He would always try to see me before I had to go to bed and there’d always be some little jest or mention between us of the day when I would be king.”

  “All fathers do that, Leo, especially royal ones,” Gavriel comforted. “He would not want you risking death now.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Gav. I think that’s exactly what my father would want from me. To him the Valisar dynasty was everything. He would have risked everything, including the lives of our family and his people, if he thought there was a slim chance that I might escape Loethar’s arrival. And I think that’s just what’s happened. He knew the barbarian was coming. He probably never thought Loethar would succeed but just in case he’d gone to great lengths to teach me about the ingress, to start including me in conversations about the running of the realm.”

  “You never mentioned that to Corb and myself.”

  Leo gave a sheepish shrug. “I was not supposed to. He probably never thought it would come to it either but I do know he would expect me to risk my own life for the realm, for the Valisar crown.”

  “He protected you—that’s why we’re in this tiny corridor! And I’ve sworn to keep you safe. We cannot do anything yet.” Gavriel felt as though they were standing on opposite sides of a fence.

  “He protected me so that the crown always had its Valisar king—no other reason. I’m not saying he didn’t love me, or any of us. I’m simply saying duty was first with father. The crown was everything.” Leo kicked at the wall, suddenly looking angry at his admission.

  “What are you saying, Leo? I’m losing track of why we’re arguing.”

  “We’re not arguing. I want Loethar to suffer for his sins. I want him humiliated and his barbarian horde devastated and banished from all lands in the Set.”

  “All right,” Gavriel said slowly, unnerved by the sudden passion that was sizzling off the youngster. “What are you proposing here?”

  “We have to make use of our one advantage. Hiding here was necessary so we could plan. But now we have to be daring. We must get out and allow anyone who is willing to make use of me.”

  “That’s very brave, Leo. It—”

  “It’s what’s expected of me, I imagine.”

  Gavriel stared at his new king and felt a wave of pride rush through him. Leo was young but he was right. Penraven would need its surviving heir to be the catalyst for rebellion. “You’re talking about fighting back, Leo. But I doubt anyone there is feeling terribly rebellious just now. The realm—all of the Set, I imagine—is bleeding, reeling from the onslaught of the barbarian horde.”

  “I disagree,” Leo said, almost loftily. “I think now is when our people will be feeling the most outrage. I know I do, you do. If we leave it too long they might get used to the new ways. We have to tell them how our king died, how our people have been slaughtered mercilessly. We must let them know that the Valisar crown has survived, that they must rally to the Valisar heir…king!”

  Gavriel paused, impressed by Leo’s fighting talk. “Who do we tell? How do we do it?”

  “As I said, I’ve been thinking. I was with both our fathers when they were discussing a renegade. They called him a highwayman but from what I could tell of their conversation, his thieving had become more serious. He was regularly robbing from the crown. And they said he was well organized. I presume that means he had friends.”

  “And you think this is the man who could start a revolution against the Set’s enemy?”

  Leo looked abashed. “Well, to be honest, I was simply thinking that someone like this highwayman might have a reason to support the old ways, especially if I promised him freedom fr
om prosecution for his past.”

  Gavriel stared at the king. “You have thought this through, haven’t you?”

  “Well, you were gone a long time finding food.”

  “I couldn’t have been. It was too easy—I didn’t even have to sneak into the pantry. I told you, witless Genrie made it all easy.”

  “Witless? I think she notices too much. She’s really curt and obviously hates me simply because I happened to be born royal. Be careful of her.”

  “Oh, she’s not that bad.”

  “She all but scowls every time she sees me.”

  “She’s ambitious.”

  “And so that gives her a right to sneer at someone who couldn’t help being born a royal?”

  “Spoken like a true king, your highness,” Gavriel said.

  “Well, I don’t like her.”

  “You should. If not for her we wouldn’t have been fed today.”

  “You obviously like her, Gav, but we shouldn’t trust her.”

  “She is the only one, save your father, who stood up to Loethar. You should see the beating she’s taken for speaking up. I can’t help but think she’s to be admired.”

  “She treats everyone as she did Loethar. She’s always argumentative; that’s her contrary manner. Everyone but Freath feels the bite of her tongue. She seemed to get on well with him, of course. Nasty birds of a feather flock together!”

  “Don’t be cynical—it doesn’t suit you. He’s her superior.”

  “So am I!”

  Gavriel knew he couldn’t win this one. Switching tactics, he asked, “Anyway, are you talking of the highway man from the north?”

  Leo shrugged. “He was only just becoming a real problem for the crown. His name is Faris…Kilt Faris.”

  “Ah, that’s right!”

  “It’s an option, I suppose, and one we’ll have to consider when we’re ready to make a move.”

  “It’s time for us to leave now.”

  “We can’t just—”

  “We can. I told you. I know a way out.”

  Gavriel took a slow breath. So much was riding on his decisions now. It was all very well for Leo to suddenly feel kingly and twenty feet tall, and instantly courageous now that they’d eluded Loethar with such cunning. But Gavriel knew that the new king’s life and thus the future of Penraven and in turn the Set, depended on his every move.

  “I know we can’t remain here indefinitely. Just give me another day, Leo,” he said calmly. “I need to think things through.”

  “One more day? Fine. Then we go. Come on, I’ll show you how.”

  Leo pushed past him and Gavriel had no choice but to follow.

  Kirin stood in the hallway, being introduced by Freath to an extremely pretty but unnervingly serious, brisk woman called Genrie. He was just saying his hello’s when Stracker interrupted the introduction.

  “He wants to see you,” Stracker snarled with no care for the others standing by.

  “Of course,” Freath replied, looking briefly toward the woman.

  “Your chosen has recovered, has he?” the barbarian replied, his sneer lifting the tatua around his face into a ghastly pantomime of sharp shapes.

  “A slight fever, that’s all. He’ll be fine.”

  Kirin didn’t contradict Freath. He didn’t care which of the enemy lied to which, or why.

  Stracker smiled in his devious way. “Feeling a bit vulnerable, are you, Freath? Better make sure you get all that magic up and firing around you.”

  Freath said nothing but Kirin choked back a gasp of understanding. So he and Clovis were to be shields of some sort? He wanted to laugh aloud. They weren’t warriors who could throw up some sort of magical barrier around people. What was in these people’s heads? They’d been interviewed enough times for their captors to know they were akin to seers, nothing more. He wished he could risk a pry but just the thought of it brought a fresh wave of nausea so he ignored the temptation.

  Freath was suddenly pushing him toward the woman. “Genrie will take you from here to rejoin your friend. I shall see you soon enough, I imagine.”

  Again Kirin said nothing in reply. Instead he summoned his best look of disdain for Freath and in turn directed it at the woman who now gripped his upper arm and pulled him away as Stracker led Freath in the other direction.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “I annoyed someone.”

  “That bastard Freath, I suppose.”

  She glared sideways at him. “Don’t make assumptions.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Freath told you,” came the curt reply.

  “He explained nothing, though.”

  “Then neither will I.”

  Kirin sighed. “What is a young, lovely-looking woman like you still doing here?”

  “I worked for the queen, Master Kirin. I wouldn’t abandon the royal family.”

  “What family?” he sneered. “As I understand it they’re all dead or daft.”

  Genrie bristled but said nothing and kept marching him onward.

  Kirin tried again, apology in his tone. “Help me and my friend Clovis get away, Genrie…if you care about the Set. Come with us, in fact!”

  She stopped, looking at him as though he were insane. “What do you mean?”

  “People like us should be helping each other escape.”

  “Please don’t ask such a thing of me again. If you do, I will tell Master Freath.”

  “But, Genrie, surely you can’t—”

  “Master Kirin, please don’t presume to know me or my motivations. If you were in my shoes you might know the dangerous path I tread. Now, please, let me show you to where Master Freath ordered. He is in charge and I don’t disobey his orders.”

  Kirin’s heart sank.

  “This is your idea of a joke, I presume?” Gavriel said, feeling dizzy as he poked his head out.

  Leo looked back at him quizzically. “No. Why?”

  Gavriel’s dizziness turned instantly into fear. “I…er…this is the only way out that you know of?”

  Leo shook his head in bemused wonder. “Oh, wait a minute, I’ll just list all the choices we have,” he offered.

  “All right, all right, no need for contempt.”

  “Well, Gav, what do you expect under the circumstances? I’m offering us a way out.”

  “Not a very happy one,” Gavriel replied, grimacing at the rising nausea.

  “The only one. I’m tired of cringing in the ingress, Gav.”

  “We’re not cringing!”

  “We’ve got to risk escape. We’ve been lucky so far but it can’t last.”

  “And so your answer is to climb down from the highest point of Brighthelm?” It was Gavriel’s turn to be acerbic. “This is not called the gods for nothing, Leo.”

  The young king stared back at him and couldn’t quite mask the disdain in his gaze. “Not climb down, no. That would be suicide, if not from a fall, then from all the enemy arrows that would strike us on the way.”

  Gavriel blew out his cheeks with relief. “Good. But there is no other way.”

  Leo pointed.

  “I see a tree,” Gavriel said. “So what?”

  “That is where we climb down.”

  Gavriel stared at the king as though he had lost his wits. “How, pray tell, my king, are we going to get from here,” he said, his finger stabbing the stonework of the tiny opening they’d clambered through, “over to there? Or is that a minor ruffle in your amazing plan that we still have to smoothe out?”

  Leo actually grinned, infuriating him.

  Loethar had expected the visit, but he hadn’t anticipated that it would be so soon. But he shouldn’t have been surprised when Stracker woke him just after dawn and told him of the impending visitors. Now he was back in the salon. Vyk was glaring balefully upon them.

  “Why does that wretched bird always have to be around?” the older of the two visitors lamented. It was a rhetorical question, spoken purely in complaint.


  Loethar yawned. “I warned you not to come until I sent for you.”

  “I was bored.”

  “More like you couldn’t wait to gloat.”

  “That may be. But this is my rightful place. What are we waiting for, by the way?”

  There was a soft knock at the door and then it opened.

  “Him,” Loethar said. “Come in, Freath. Ah, Piven too. Good.” Stracker arrived after the child, who took no notice of the present company. Instead he scampered up to stroke Vyk, who looked unimpressed by the attention.

  “Stracker said you asked for me, sire?” Freath bowed before turning and also bowing graciously to Loethar’s company.

  “I did. Freath, this is my mother, Negev. But she has a title. She is known as Dara, which I suppose could be very roughly translated to mean king’s mother in your language.”

  Freath bowed low. “It is an honor to meet and serve you, Dara Negev,” he said in his most polite Set.

  The woman did not hide her sneer as she tipped her head to one side, studying Freath before replying. “Is it? I’m sure you’d be more honored serving your queen.”

  His response was careful. “I have no queen, my lady. She is as lost as her child, who you see here.”

  Negev smiled, not even looking at Piven. “Slippery,” she commented instead, throwing a glance toward her son.

  Loethar did not miss her message. “And this is Valya,” he said carefully, glancing at the woman.

  Again Freath nodded, having already bowed to her. “I’m sorry Penraven gives you a wretched salutation but let me be the first to offer a warm welcome.”

  Valya stared at him with distaste. “He’s a traitor, is he, Loethar…has he swapped his allegiance?”

  “Apparently,” Loethar answered, amused, but eyeing Freath with a steely look.

  “No, madam, there was nothing to swap,” Freath said, obviously deciding to speak up for himself. She arched an eyebrow in query at him. “I was never loyal to the Valisar clan. I was simply its lowly paid servant.”

  At this Loethar laughed. His mother and Valya took his lead, appearing equally amused. Freath’s expression remained somber, unchanged. “Is Iselda not giving you what you want in the bedroom, Freath?”