The Coming Of Shadows (The Shadow Tide Book 1)

by Steven Moorer

  As time passed he was ready when Jayden came to him. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing as the King came in the room.

  “Idris, I haven’t much time. Shall we confer?” he said as he took his seat.

  Idris looked at the parchments he had made notes on and began. “My King, I have conferred with Lord Carlye as you requested. From my findings it appears that is nothing more than a brotherly misunderstanding. My King, I feel that this situation must be handled as it should be within the family.

  “Next, My King, House Wakefield has asked for a meeting of the provinces. As you know the Lords of each province may control their own interest when they feel that the crown is treating them unfairly. He has asked that each of the eight regions-”

  Jayden raised his hand to stop him. He seemed distant, and there was something strange about him. He was paler today, with a glass look to his eyes and dark circles under them.

  “Your Majesty, if I may? How has your sleeping been?” he asked Jayden.

  The King's eyes looked up at him with a cold deep stare. “Have you ever seen something so beautiful and knew that you couldn't have it? Have you ever been somewhere and watched everything burn? Have you ever known that one day you would rise to be the greatest man ever to walk the earth? Well I have seen it all Idris, and it is all good.”

  “I have been king now for three months. In that time I have done nothing. I have done nothing that history will remember me for.” His eyes became narrower. “Idris, do you object to my decisions as king?” he asked.

  Idris was not sure how to answer. All of the decisions Jayden had made as king were good. Even though Jayden was young, his reasoning had been fair and balanced, but still they needed work. “No, Your Majesty, I don’t,” he said conservatively

  “So you do agree. Then, Idris, shall I be the king whose underlings use and control him? The crown is in need of money, and I shall have it. As you know any opposition to the crown is considered an act of war?” He slammed his fist into the oak table.

  “Idris, I want you to send the word. All of the Earls must meet within the week. Tell them to send messages to their controlling Dukes. The messages will state; ‘By order of King Jayden, each province must as per the law, willfully and without objection, pay the due and fair taxes appointed to them by their King. Those who fail will have one month to pay the debt in full. Those who refuse will be dealt with accordingly and swiftly.' I will not let those with lesser power take from me what is rightfully mine!” he screamed.

  Idris sat looking at him. He didn't know what to say. This was a side of Jayden he had not seen in some time. The temperamental boy who had run through the halls of the castle was now back. He was no longer the young, mature king Idris had come to know since he took his father’s place. Jayden was changing, and Idris knew that it wasn't for the best.

  “I will protect what is mine. I will also get everything that I want. It is my birthright. Idris, I don't like you and I never have, so hear me now. You will obey my order. If you choose not to, I will make sure that all of Derancross knows the day of your death when you hang from the gallows. Now get the hell out.”

  The door behind him slammed as Idris stepped into the hall. Jayden's last words were strange. His tone had become shallow and hollow. It is my birthright. What did Jayden intend to do now? He knew that the next few months would be trying, to him and to Jayden.

  XXIV

  “Is it done?” Jayden heard as he walked into his private bed chambers.

  Oberon had been in his room since he left to meet with Idris. “Yes it is. How long until we strike?”

  “In time, Your Majesty.”

  Oberon was a man of maybe forty, his dark hair the color of a moonless night, his eyes gray. He had a pale complexion and spoke with a subtle accent of Elm’ Ladin.

  “I don’t have all the time in the world to spend. I cannot have my underlings telling me that they refuse to pay taxes,” Jayden said as he walked to his wet bar and poured a generous cup of clear whiskey in a cup.

  “Patience, Your Majesty. They are playing a bluff. They know if they refuse that you will come down on them with full military force,” Oberon said as he also made himself a drink.

  “They might be fools, but will they risk open war--war inside the kingdom?” Jayden asked

  “They might. If they find their reason just, they can launch against you. And, as my spies have reported, the north has already suspected you for some time. They will join any opposition to you and they are strong.” Oberon said quickly drinking his final swallow of liquor.

  “Idris is starting to suspect,” Jayden said looking back at him.

  He could see Oberon was not concerned. “Your majesty, Idris is a fool who sees things through the eyes of the old way of life. He is no doubt a fine Steward and aide, but in this time of apparent war he is nothing. His way with words will find him nothing but foiled plans and unnecessary death.”

  “Then he must be removed.” Jayden said

  “If you choose to keep your kingdom intact, if he is allowed to leave peacefully, then he will be the perfect ally to anyone who might oppose you.”

  “Tomorrow then. What about what I want, what I need?” Jayden asked. He finished his liquor and slammed the cup onto the table.

  “Lord Carlye is a fine warrior. He is cunning and a leader. He will serve you, my King, with passion, but he will remain loyal to his family as long as he must. His loyalty will be hard to sway. Please be cautious of him and all of the Earls; they all plan their own moves accordingly. Time will show who is loyal and who is not, Your Majesty I have the power to tell you who stands and who doesn’t.”

  Jayden wanted more of the liquor. He was ready to make his mark on history, and he could feel it in his hands. This is all mine. It was a good feeling, a wonderful feeling. He took another quick drink of the sweet corn alcohol; it was so good the burn was going away.

  “Oberon, can you make them serve me?”

  “I can your majesty, I can.” He smiled and poured more liquor.

  XXV

  The wool shirt he was wearing scratched his back and started to itch. His name was Gerac, and he was nothing more than a merchant. His store was a small cart that carried trinkets, exotic liquors, the occasional fruit, and two fine skinning knives used by hunters.

  Today his route had brought him into the courtyard of the great Castle. It was in that building behind the huge columns, behind the elaborate stone carving that the King of this land lived. Oh, he hoped for just one glance, just once glance to know.

  But it was wishful thinking. The Crimson Guards around the courtyard had enjoyed drinking his liquors and they had filled his pockets but now the bottles were dry and the hour was late. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your service to our King. For that I will return with a new batch.” They all grunted and accepted. It was time to move along now, to somewhere else in the city.

  ~~~~~

  Mik worked by night sweeping the hay and horse dung from the streets in front of the Palace. It was an awful job, nothing to do but shovel foul smelling dung and think; but there wasn’t much to think about.

  He knew that one night he would be lucky enough to maybe catch a glimpse of the King and his court, but that was it -- just wishful thinking.

  PLOP, the sound of dung being shoveled echoed through the quiet streets.

  This hurts, but not as bad as that thug’s face. My fist is bruised; a dumb move to try to fight off a thug wearing just rags. I think that the time to find something new for money would be fitting now, but there is nothing. Nothing for a man like me.

  So for now I will continue to work doing what I do best, I am a merchant of trinkets and whiskey, I am a crap collector at night. But in life I am a killer.

  ~~~~~

  Ash walked into his safe house. It wasn’t much, but he had spent the last few days making it what it needed to be to become his house. Of all the cities he had visited Derancross was not one he had stayed long enough in to put roots down.r />
  He trained here as boy and into his mid years but after the murder of his master he found the city less desirable than at once was.

  Over the past days he had been working false guises in an attempt to make his way closer to the Palace. He spent many hours distilling the liquor the guards had drunk within minutes, taken time to ruin perfectly good clothes to shovel dung in, but still nothing.

  The Palace was closed tight. He was not familiar enough with Idris to know him by his face, so he was hoping for some glimpse of the King which would tell him which one was his Steward.

  Damn my hand, he thought as he rubbed it. He usually didn’t like to use his bare fist without gloves but at the time his knife in his sleeve had snagged itself and he wasn’t able to remove it before he was overrun by two large thugs.

  But that wasn’t his concern now. He had to find a way into the Palace and find this Idris so he could learn more of the book and who Idris truly was. He didn’t care how, but it had to be done.

  Maybe a courier—perfect; it was the best idea he’d had to date. He could take the book and wrap it in several layers of cloth and paper and make sure that it arrived to Idris intact. But now he had other things he had to do, sleep and rest. He knew that once the book was in Idris’ possession he would have to make his way out of the city as fast as possible.

  KNOCK.

  It startled him. Someone was at his door and he didn’t know who. Slowly he stood, grabbing his trusted dagger and palming it where the visitor couldn’t see it. He walked to the door making no sounds and slowly cracked the door.

  The man outside was middle aged, with pale skin and dark hair. “Yes?” He asked the man as he stood at the door, the torches of the streets softly illuminating his face.

  “You are wet boy?” The man asked with an Elm’ Ladinian accent.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Ash replied.

  “The answer I was expecting. I have a job for you, three thousand silver Crown now, and two thousand when it is done. I do not have the time to sit and talk of the particulars, and I do not choose to tell my name. I know who you are from your past exploits. Here take this,” the man said, throwing a bag of coins into Ash’s hands.

  The bag was heavy with silver. From the weight he could tell that the price he spoke was about right. “The target and why?” he asked the stranger cautiously.

  “Idris is the name. My payment is the reason.” And with that he turned and walked back into the dark street.

  He had no idea who the man was or even how he knew of him, he had to be more careful now. IDRIS! What the hell was going on? His plan just changed and now he had to stay. Damn!

  ~~~~~

  He never could figure out why soldiers dressed this way. The tabard was heavy and hot, the cape was too thick and restricted movement, the shirt to baggy, and the boots. I would die faster than I could get my sword out, Ash thought as he stood guard outside of the soldier’s barracks in Easterway.

  All morning he had wandered around. The crown spared no expense here, he though looking at the fine construction of the Estate. Even though it was lavish it still lacked the grandeur of some of the older estates, no family portraits, no heirlooms, nothing but bare white washed walls.

  “Grab that.” He heard a soldier say from behind him.

  The soldier had placed a bundle of muskets beside the entrance to the barracks. “It’s going to the northern wall shack,” he told Ash.

  Ash grabbed the bundle; he didn’t want to draw to much attention to himself so he obeyed. “So we are getting security heightened but if we have a breach, you know someone acts out of line, where do we take them?” He asked the guard as they made their way through the outside breezeways

  “It’s the first room inside the military complex. Take a left from the north entrance and it’s the first room,” the other guard told him.

  “Perfect,” Ash said.

  XXVI

  He hated this attire. It was a solid black shirt with a brand new finely crafted gold trimmed white tabard with his fir tree crest embroidered on the chest of the tabard. The collar was high and it felt as if he was being choked, and the trim around it was scratching his neck, causing an ugly red irritation.

  His cloak was made from two layers of heavy fabric that he wasn't sure about. It was white with golden trim along the edges and, added to the high collar of his shirt, it was more around his neck than he wanted. His trousers were fine wool pulled from the royal cloth vault and the leather smiths had made him a new pair of custom deep black leather boots. Everything was a perfect fit

  He had spent the morning being prepared and pampered by the servants, from bathing to shaving. He had run them out of the room during his bath, even though they insisted on staying, but he would have none of it. They had laced his bath water with oils and perfumes that he found hard to remove when trying to dry himself.

  Even though just a few days ago he had a haircut, a servant girl had washed his hair down thoroughly before his bath and trimmed it to an even and consistent length. Other servants cleaned his finger nails, shaved his face, and for some reason beyond him, cleaned his feet.

  It had been a long morning and he just wanted to see Mariella. “He does clean well.” He heard Allan say as the servants finished getting him into his attire. Allan had brought to him his sword. The new scabbard was crafted perfectly for the sword - dark black leather with a new belt and decorated with ornate gold and silver gems and trim. The handle and been remade and wrapped with new leather.

  It was a work of a master craftsman that he would never have the skill to do. “For you, my Lord,” Allan said as he handed him the new sheath and belt. Dominic took the sword and pulled it from the sheath. The handle felt good on his hand, better than ever. The smith had also taken some time to polish the blade and bring the luster of the steel out.

  “Are you ready?” Allan asked him as he took the belt and strapped it around his waist.

  “Yes, more than you know,” he said as he grabbed his friend on the shoulder. They made their way onto the steps of the Easterway Estate.

  There were more people there than Dominic had thought. His guards, his new guards, stood in front of the stairs in their new white armor making sure the crowd stayed in order. On the balcony more guards stood, both his own and Crimson Guards, all wearing their finest armor and dress attire.

  The High Curate from the Temple was present. He would be the one to bless them after King Jayden performed the ceremony. He saw the Earls also, Lords Sandrin, Candrin, Gryn, and Wakefield. Idris was there along with others from the King’s court.

  Everyone was there, even people he didn't know. Behind the Earls he saw a man and a woman he didn't recognize. He did notice the colors they wore were yellow and brown and the signal on the man's chest was an embroidered silver horse. Who is that? He didn't recognize the crest or the people.

  WHOUUUUUUUUUUUU. He heard the sound of his guard trumpet, and the he heard the sounds of the bells on top of his estate ring through the streets.

  “Please make welcome His Majesty Jayden the First of the House Tiernan.” Idris said loudly over the crowd.

  Jayden stepped from a covered coach parked at the base of the stairs. The entire crowd all fell to one knee as Jayden made his way to the balcony of the estate. “Rise my people,” he said as he stood

  “Lords, ladies, soldiers and people may I present the Lady Mariella and her betrothed, your Lord of Easterway, Dominic the First of the House Carlye,” the King said.

  Dominic looked out over the crowd as they applauded him, but someone caught his eye.

  It was Mariella. She had made her way out onto the balcony from one of the side entrances into the Estates gardens. She was wearing a long white dress made from cotton, satin and silk. Behind her two servants carried the train of the dress to prevent it from being torn by the stone walkway or stained with dirt. The dress had a high collar like the one he was wearing, and she wore a solid golden cloak behind her which wa
s trimmed in white. The dress was elegant, with long sleeves and white gloves. On the dress the seamstress had taken extra care and time to take golden beads and construct them into a pattern of abstract shapes and flowers.

  The abstract beads came from her shoulder line all the way down the dress, as if she was covered in golden ivy, vines and flowers. She covered her face with a white linen veil which she could just barely see through; the veil was held on her head by a silver tiara with gold trim.

  She walked toward him as Allan escorted her to the position in front of him, King Jayden to her left.

  “Friends, welcome. Today marks the day of many for this great city. I have given the people of the west side of this city hope by expanding our walls and giving you a Lord to bring order and justice to these streets and today that Lord takes his Lady.

  “Today is not about us but to celebrate what this Lord and Lady will accomplish together as they start this journey. Lord Dominic has served greatly in the Crimson Guard for many years, and now his hard work and loyal service has been honored and he will enjoy the rest of his long days here in this Estate.

  By the laws of our land, the Lord of the house must marry his betrothed and welcome her to his house. Lady Southerlin is not of royal birth, but as are customs of the North those who sit in the high families may marry into the hierarchy.

  “Does the family of Mariella object to taking her name Southerlin and losing it to become of the House Carlye?” The King asked as he turned and looked at Allan.

  “No, your Majesty. May the name Southerlin be carried through my blood and my blood alone. Her blood is now that of the House Carlye,” Allan said as he bowed his head in front of the King.