by P D Ceanneir
A cold wind blew over the Rattan as the four black hooded executioners heated the iron tips of the twenty four-foot long impaling poles on hot coals. Plysov and his other two junior officers were naked apart from a white linen gown that came down to their knees. They were shaking violently, but not from the cold.
‘You do not have to watch this, you know,’ said Vanduke to Vara as they stood with the Red Duke and the Princes.
‘I know, but I have to see in their eyes how my girls suffered,’ she whispered through her tears. They were the only ones there on the plateau; it was to be a closed, private, execution.
The ancient execution of impalement was a new one on the executioners’ and a modicum of practice was implemented before Plysov underwent his final act. Therefore, the two young officers were the guinea pigs. They may or may not have raped the girls, but that was beside the point now. Wearing only white gowns, they were both, in turn, tied down to a wooden platform, spread-eagled, then the hot spear points pushed up their rectums. They screamed continuously as the shaft shoved deeper through their bodies. Mercifully, they died quickly before the executioners pulled them up to a vertical position. The second man had thrashed about so much; the shaft point pierced out as the hot tip burst through his diaphragm.
When it came to Plysov’s turn, the executioners learnt how to keep him alive as the spear passed up through his body moving aside the vital organs as it went. The general’s screamed as the pole entered his anus and he still moaned as the tip exited through his mouth. Once the end of the impaling pole was slotted into the ground, its shaft caked in the general’s blood, King Vanduke led a tearful Vara off the plateau. Havoc, Magnus and Lord Rett continued to watch Plysov suffer for two hours until he finally died from the trauma.
The second reason for the cream of nobility to descend upon the citadel was an invite to the Trinkets Ball. This was a formal celebration of the liberation of the Rogun capital. Havoc commissioned tailors to make uniforms for his core officers to wear at the dance. Green trousers with long sleeved waist jackets of a darker green and a white silk shirt were issued to the new knights, now known as the princes Paladin-knights. They also received highly polished black shoes and an officer’s sash worn around the waist and shoulder. Major Velnour, being a cavalry officer wore black shiny knee high riding boots with silver spurs. All of the officers wore frilly epaulets and lanyards; white for captains, blue for majors, silver for the commanders and gold for the prince. Havoc also had the emblem of Dex on his right arm while the officers of the Eternals had a symbol of a notched bow on their left arm and a broach of the mountain ash leaf, an emblem of the Falesti. Gunach and Dolment also personalised their uniforms. The Master Smith stitched a cloth symbol of crossed axes on his left arm while Dolment used the image of the Round Tower of Ifor for his lancers.
The Great Ballroom sat at the rear of the palace administration buildings. Richly decorated with tapestries’ and pictures furnished with a long table at the far wall to hold the food. Two huge candlelit chandeliers hung under the glass-domed roof that had curved arches of thin mahogany to hold it up. Four rows of pillars at the north and south ends of the ballroom acted as supports for the roof and convenient niches for the guests to sit and chat.
Richly dressed aristocrats of all ages and gender festooned the tiled mosaic floor depicting the Cromme Coat of Arms, which was an ornate shield with the twin dragons Sin and Dex together holding a large chestnut in their claws. Musicians played a constant air of lilting tunes as the girls swirled around the dance floor in their finely tailored colourful ball gowns.
It was because of these young single women that the Trinket ball was so named. The girls would wear bracelets, rings, broaches, necklaces’ or earrings, all of which would depict their families crest. Young handsome bachelors’ would receive these “Trinkets” as courting favour.
In the olden days, the passing of these gifts was a prelude to courtship, nowadays it was more of an invitation, a way of saying “I find you attractive, call on me”. Of course, most potential suitors would end up with dozens of these trinkets and the subsequent conundrum of who to call on first.
All the same, Havoc was late. In his own room on the second floor of the royal apartments he had finished getting dressed and SinDex, along with the black cloak, was safely stashed away in a tall oak cupboard. He was about to put his old leather backpack away when something inside it moved. He opened it and saw Jynn’s Lobe Stone shine and vibrate, was Cinnibar getting in touch with him? He reached in and picked up the stone. It stopped its white pulsing light as soon as he touched it and it did not move.
He was about to put it back when he felt the Blacksword shift in his mind.
No keep it, it may start again, he said, Havoc agreed, and he put it into his inside jacket pocket.
I do not like you leaving me here, said the Blacksword and Havoc frowned.
‘What do you mean, “Leaving you here?” he asked.
Me, the sword, us, SinDex, the Sword that Rules, is part of us...I do not like being too far away from it. Just like when you left me in that boulder, in the Eternal Forest, it felt wrong...we are not meant to be apart.
This was news to the prince and he reassured the Blacksword that it will not be for long.
He found his officers milling about at the ballroom entrance when he got there, anxiously waiting for him. They had all agreed to go in together, and if they were honest, each was nervous and relied on the comfort of their friends. When they did enter the hall, it was to resounding applause, bows and curtsies. The band struck up a marching tune and the dancers continued their waltz. The king in his best white ballroom suit and polished silver circlet in his blonde mane, waved at Havoc as he stood next to Lord Ness, Lady Vara, General Elkin and the Red Duke.
Mad-gellan was already dancing as his fellow officers entered. He had sent for the young women that the Blacksword saved in Cosshead, escorted from the Eternal forest to accommodation in the citadel, the “War Widows” as they became known were greatly indebted to the kind Nithi lord especially when he invited them to the ball. However secretly, his friends knew he had a fancy for the young Bellthua and she had taken a liking for him. They danced together now as the others watched on.
Eleana, looking radiant in a light yellow dress that matched her hair, swung by with Magnus in tow, she winked at Havoc and turned to Powyss.
‘Sir Powyss, may I have this dance? With both of us married we will do away with the silly tradition of trinkets and I hear you are a fine dancer.’
‘My Lady, I have two left feet, but I can still dance better than this lot,’ said Powyss as he hooked a thumb behind him at the other Raider officers. He grabbed her hand and led her onto the dance floor.
Havoc’s friends were not exempt from the attentions of the young noble women. They looked as if they would rather face a screaming hoard of kill crazy warriors baying for their blood than tackle the tidal wave of female attention they now received. Nevertheless, they were kind and amiable and danced as best they could.
Havoc mingled and chatted. Girls blushed and giggled at his smile, most seemed awed by his presence, and this made him uncomfortable. Over on the other side of the dance floor Havoc caught sight of a beautiful young girl in a richly dressed white ball gown and a diamond necklace. What made her stand out from the crowd of other beauties was her composed attitude to the attention of the men that crowded her. Her smile was genuine and affectionate, but her demeanour screamed of independence. Her curly golden hair, exquisitely held up in a bun at the back, extenuated her fine porcelain pale neck. Her low cut bodice showed off a medium sized bosom. Although, it was her eyes that interested Havoc the most for when she finally looked his way he could see they emitted a piercing blue vitality that smiled at him far more than her small mouth did. Unfortunately, the brief sight of her was fleeting as the crowd of dancers blocked his view and then swallowed her up.
He danced for some time when the girls asked. He made fleeting glances over the bo
bbing heads to find the girl in the white dress but never saw her. Eventually, Eleana found him and they danced for a while.
‘Mia and Verna would have loved this you know,’ she said to him quietly.
‘True, they always loved a party,’ he said.
‘There may be a future wife in here for you,’ she said as she twirled under his arm. She noticed his confused look, ‘come on Havoc the mighty warrior, undefeated general, Heir to the Rogun throne and a handsome bachelor to boot. You are quite a catch, and these young women know it. How many trinkets have you got?’
He tapped one of his pockets and it jingled with all of the jewellery in there. They both laughed and stopped dancing as the music changed.
‘Mark my words Havoc, there is a future Queen of the Roguns in this room and you don’t know it yet.’
Verkin did not dance, sweat beaded his pallid completion, and the girls avoided his dark scowl. His anxiety at his condition came and went like hot and cold flushes. He drank wine to douse the heat in his belly and to numb the throbbing pain in his head. He did not relish sleep because the nightmares were worse than ever. Sometimes they spilled over into his waking world, like now.
The girl in the blue dress carrying the doll walked through the dancers who seemed to ignore her. Her light brown hair bounced on her shoulders, her benign countenance radiated from her face making the dancers pale by comparison. She fixed Verkin with her green eyes, so much like the princes.
‘Be not sad Captain Verkin,’ said the girl. Even though she was some distance away, she sounded as if she was right beside him. ‘The Pyromancer has extended your life, now it is time to repay in blood. Protect the Blacksword for he has not fully grown in power as yet.’ He was not surprised when the dancers cavorted right through her. He did not flinch when her eyes stared to burn bright crimson orbs in their sockets. He did not even scream when smoke rose from them every time she blinked. Suddenly, she disappeared and so too did the pain in his head. Clarity of boundless possibilities and the first fluttering of fear replaced it.
After an hour and a half of dancing Havoc finally made it to the long buffet table, where he ate some cold cuts of meat and filled up a cup from the punch bowl. A rustle of a silk dress brushed by him and he heard a sweet unfamiliar voice at his side.
‘Are you as thirsty as I from the evenings cavorting, your majesty?’ Havoc turned, expecting someone to ask him to dance again only to find the lovely girl in the white dress beside him. She was much shorter than the prince was, though her athletic frame made up for her stature. Her gown was beautifully inlaid with pearls with the hem and cuffs to match. Two strands of her curly golden hair framed her face and she wore an alluring expression that made her seem very intelligent and sexy at the same time. She looked up at him with those light blue eyes.
‘Er, yes would you like some? I’m afraid I’m out of practice when it comes to dancing.’ He said indicating the punch bowl.
‘Yes please, although I have not had a single dance as yet,’ she sounded sad.
‘On these occasions it is usually the female that asks first,’ said Havoc handing the cup of wine over.
‘So that’s where I have been going wrong,’ they both laughed, ‘I must admit I’m new to all of this.’ She had an easy personality that made him relax.
‘My name is Havoc,’ he said though, he did not know why.
She nearly choked on her wine, ‘I know, my lord, you are probably the most famous man in this room. My name is Bleudwed.’
She was younger than Havoc, possibly sixteen or so, but acted older than her years.
‘Is this your first ball?’ asked Havoc and she nodded.
‘I must confess I cannot dance,’ she said, ‘so I do not ask. This saves me from embarrassment and avoids broken toes.’ The prince found himself laughing at her humour.
‘You are modest, not a quality you find in a noble.’
‘I have not always been a noble,’ she said vaguely.
‘Have you inherited recently?’
‘You could say that,’ said Bleudwed as she placed the empty wine cup on the table. ‘Well thank you for the wine, it has been nice talking to you, my lord,’ she curtsied, turned to go and then stopped and turned back. She took out a hairpin from the bun at the back of her head and placed it in the prince’s hand.
‘This is for the dance that we nearly had, my lord, forgive me for not offering too, but I must leave soon.’ She turned away and was soon lost in the crowd of dancers. Bewildered, Havoc watched her leave he looked down at the hairpin then back at the retreating figure, then suddenly down at the pin again with his eyes wide. There, at the top of the pin, was a circle. Inside the circle was a familiar Coat of Arms.
It was the Coat of Arms of the Counts of Haplann.
‘Mulvend!’ he gasped. He looked for her desperately, but could not see her.
‘MULVEND!’ he bellowed and everyone looked his way. He ignored their confused looks as he pushed his way through the crowd. He shouted her name again; the band stopped playing as people stopped dancing to watch the frantic prince. Most were asking each other who this Mulvend was. Havoc shouted again, the crowd opened near the west entrance and there in her white dress stood Mulvend with an amused smile on her face.
‘Mulvend...I... How...?’ stuttered the prince as he approached her. Some of Havoc’s officers came to his aid, but he waved them away.
‘I go by my real name of Bleudwed now, Prince Havoc,’ said the girl with a smile and a slight curtsy, but the smile disappeared and her eyes widened in shock as the prince rushed her, picking her off her feet in a tight hug and twirled her in the air, she screamed with laughter.
‘Mulvend... my little Mulvend!’ he said and put her down; Havoc could see Eleana watching with interest his father was beside her, smiling, but with a questioning frown.
‘My lord!’ scolded Bleudwed, as she looked around the confused faces of the other guests. ‘Surely this is not the way for a royal prince to act?’
‘I did not believe I would ever see you again...how are you here?’
The Countess of Haplann looked around; she was actually blushing and felt slightly vulnerable.
‘Shall we talk elsewhere, my lord?’
‘Ah... yes of course.’ They left, going out of the doors of the west exit and waked over the bridge to Carras Isle. Behind them, the band started up again and the party continued.
‘I wondered how you would react to meeting me again, but I never imagined it would be like that,’ said Bleudwed as the prince took off his jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders to keep off the sea breeze.
‘Sorry, it’s just that it has been the highlight of my day so far.’
She laughed. It was a lovely high trilling sound. They passed four guards as they exited the bridge. They bowed to the prince and watched the couple walk over the short cut grass of Carras Isle as they talked.
‘I have never heard your voice, it’s beautiful. The last time I saw you your face it was smudged with dirt. No wonder I never recognised you.’
‘It has been four years. People change in that time.’
‘Tell me, what happened to you since I left you at the Little Dell?’ and she did.
‘I hated you at first, you left me with strangers. However, the love Hoban and Neiva bestowed on me made me love them in turn and my life in the Dell was full of joy. Oh, I knew why you left me of course, to keep me safe. When I heard about the deaths of Governor Garth and his men I knew it was you and I also knew that my place was not by your side.’
‘I made him suffer, in revenge for your family,’ said Havoc sadly.
‘I know, I sometimes think about them, the nightmares of my childhood are gone and are just distant memories. Anyway, Hoban and Neiva looked after me. Hoban spent the money you gave him, shrewdly. Over time he bought back the lands of the Dell that his poor ancestors had to sell to the crown authorities in Sloe and build a larger home for us all. The Vallkytes never asked how he could be making so much
profit mainly because they were too busy hunting for the fabled Blacksword and a group of fugitives in the area.’
Havoc stiffened beside her.
‘In time, you restarted the war again and Lord Rett occupied the Pass and liberated Sloe. So Hoban was able to finalise on his payments and receive the deed for the Dell. He can now style himself Lord Hoban of Little Dell, which is not so little anymore.
‘More good fortune came after that. Six families heard of Hoban and Neiva’s kindness and they came to them one day to escape the war. Hogan gave them lands to build homes on and they pay him a moderate lease for the privilege. They till his earth to grow crops and look after his cattle. In doing so, they also receive half of the profits they make. The other half is sealed in a money pot and only used to pay for improvements to the community. They have just finished building a town hall and a tavern called the Mulvend Inn.’
Havoc smiled at that.
‘Then the day came when you took back the citadel and I left my adopted parents.’
Havoc looked down at her, ‘where did you go?’
‘To the mountain spring where you named me,’ she said.
The creature stood in the centre of the Sonoran Circle in the centre of the plaza, a purple cloak draped over its huge body. It was dark and a warm wind blew in from the northeast to catch at the tails of his cloak.
‘The time is now, you know what to do,’ said Cinnibar as she passed him the Lobe Stone which looked small in his massive claws, ‘if anyone stands in your way...kill them.’
The Dragonstalker growled in acknowledgement, he looked around at the stone monoliths, through the dark hood he closed his eyes. Lord Sernac stepped forward and touched one of the stones.
‘This may hurt a bit,’ he informed the creature, ‘but from what I know of your kind in the past you thrive on pain. The Lobe Stone will take you where you need to go.’
The monoliths pulsed once with energy and brilliance that merged with the moonlight. When the light vanished, the Drakken was gone.
