Felling Kingdoms (Book 5)

by Jenna Van Vleet

  They appeared in his study minutes later, and Shaun continued to hold him tightly. A moment after, Lael appeared, assuredly summoned by an Air pattern.

  “What happened?” Lael gasped.

  Gabriel’s thoughts fuzzed, and lights from the window blurred in his vision.

  “Foolish boy,” he heard Lael say.

  “He saved t’ose people, Lael. T’ere is not’in’ foolish about t’at. Oh, blessed stars, Afton.”

  Gabriel closed his eyes. His body shook in pain. His breath rasped as he diverted all his energy to keeping his screams in.

  “Oh, my,” Afton whispered as Shaun explained. She pulled the barbs free. “Secondhand, could you explain what t’ barbs look like?” she asked.

  “This is a metallic blue with a black base. The other one has a red tip and is speckled with yellow dots in the center.”

  “Oh, my. Get him up, put him in t’ library on t’ table,” she snapped with more authority in her voice than Gabriel had ever heard. Lael and Shaun hefted him, and he felt himself laid on the wooden table in the small library between his hearth and desk. His masseuse had often given massages on it.

  “Get his cloak and coat off,” she instructed. Gabriel shook and clenched his muscles as they stripped him, a difficult process with his body so rigid.

  He felt something broad laid across his chest, and something pressed him into the table. Something clanked to his left. “Strap him down,” Afton instructed. He opened his eyes to see his belts clutched in her hands as she buckled them end to end.

  “What is happening to him?” Lael asked.

  “Afton,” Gabriel cut in and grabbed her arm, “I got a piece of Evony. If—if I don’t make it out…you need to search her. She’s with Ryker.”

  Afton patted his hand, and Shaun strapped it down.

  “Afton,” Lael said in a commanding tone.

  “He’s been poisoned, Secondhand. T’ red is from a coffin-box ray, t’ blue from a giant lightnin’ scorpion.” She waved her hands above Gabriel as he closed his eyes. “If I can suppress t’ tension in his body, t’ poison will leave his muscles and break up in his blood.”

  “And if not?”

  “He will die.”

  “Sleepers-pattern,” Gabriel whispered.

  “T’is is much larger t’an putting you to sleep.”

  “If you don’t…I will scream the Lodge down.” His voice choked as he kept the pain back.

  “Oh.”

  He felt her cold hand touch his sweaty brow and slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 2

  The maid buttoned the front of Robyn’s white doublet and pulled it straight across her shoulders. She hefted the steel breastplate, setting it over Robyn’s chest. It was a beautifully wrought piece etched with flowing swirls with entwining feathers, shaped to cover her breasts. It was more decorative than practical, but Virgil presented it to her as a welcoming gift and suggested she wear it for the archery tournament.

  The maid buckled it in the back attaching a short cream-colored cape to her shoulders. Robyn fastened a quiver to her leg while ignoring the displeased glance her eldest maid gave her. She insisted on wearing leggings and boots, but she compromised with a half-skirt that met her at the thighs and swept back, lengthening until it came to her heels. Everything was in shades of cream and gold.

  “You look radiant, Your Grace,” one of the younger maids said adjusting the wrapped braid over her head. The eldest took up a diaphanous piece of netting and slipped it over one of Robyn’s eyes. She laced it back into her hair to make her femininity apparent despite the leggings.

  Robyn picked up her bow as someone knocked on the door. A maid opened it and welcomed Prince Virgil.

  He stepped in awash in shades of blue with cords of white highlighting the edges. A short cloak hung over one shoulder. He smiled when he saw her garb and could not help but look her up and down.

  “You are a vision of loveliness,” he stammered, his eyes snapping from her legs to her face. “Forgive me.”

  Robyn’s eldest maid muttered something and left the room.

  Robyn hefted her bow in a threatening manner. “Shall we, Virgil?”

  “Please,” he said, almost relieved, and offered her his arm.

  Eventide would begin in the wee hours of the next morning, and they would spend all day and night celebrating, beginning with tournaments. Jousting, halberdiering, staffing, archery, as well as horse racing and mounted combat would take place in the morning and afternoon. Already Robyn could hear the clang of swords through the open windows.

  Virgil led her out to the back of the palace where massive grounds spread open, welcoming merchants, bakers, armor menders, leathercrafters, wine sellers, and every shop someone could think of. Flags fluttered overhead from poles while people called their wares. Children ducked through the passersby, and soldiers shouted orders or clanged steel against wood.

  “Pick your favorite trinket and I will have it sent to your room,” he said and gestured to the stalls. She smiled and patted his arm.

  More than one man stopped to stare, from her face to her legs and back to the golden band around her forehead. They bowed or removed their helms and caps. Even the women took notice, not of her face and heritage, but her clothes. It was not long before she heard someone say “Where can I find that?” to a friend while another hiked up her dress and tied the edges to her belt, exposing stockings and slippers.

  “I fear I may have started an incident.” She whispered to Virgil.

  “I do not think the men will complain.”

  He took her up into a set of shaded stands where King Victor already sat with Prince Quinn and his wife Princess Danaya. They all greeted her warmly, paying no attention to the garments. If a Queen wanted to wear them, they had no place to judge. Queen Cathlyn was blessedly not present. Rumor was she was nowhere in the capital and had not been for some time. Virgil confided she had been banished to an estate in the mountains. If he missed his mother, he did not show it nor did he blame Robyn.

  They waited in the shade, cold goblets in their hands, until the first competition started. A troupe of swordsmen in long white tunics lined up, and at the sound of horn, they whacked at each other with expert agility. Virgil sat on the edge of his chair, a smile on his face.

  “Will you not join them?” Robyn asked.

  “I could not tear myself from your presence.”

  “You will compete in nothing?”

  He turned and smiled suspiciously. Opponents were vanquished when the fabric of their tunics was cut, revealing leather beneath. The victors took arms against each other until a champion was heralded. Princess Danaya crowned him with yellow roses—a different color for each competition—and gave him a purse of silver and gold.

  The crowds swelled and shouted as the competitions followed. A Spirit Mage sat on the sidelines in case of dire injury, and was needed during the jousting more than once. Splinters flew with each hit as men tumbled to the ground over their horses’ backs. It was terribly exciting.

  Robyn crowned several victors in purple, orange, red, and black to elated warriors until the archery tournament began. She strung her bow and marched onto the field to the surprise and cheers of many. She took aim with the rest and shot her recurve bow with accuracy.

  The targets moved back after each shoot, eliminating little until they were a great distance. Slowly men began to miss. The crowd screamed with every shot, and Robyn felt like they were cheering for her, driving her to shoot farther and better.

  It took considerable time before the targets were pinpricks in the distance, reaching as far as the clearing would allow. Six competitors still took aim, one falling short. With five left they took their shots one at a time until three remained. The crowd roared.

  “It is obvious you can hit the target. Why not make it interesting?”

  Robyn looked at the man beside her and gaped at Virgil who grinned. “You cheeky little….” She started.

  “Hit as ma
ny as you can,” he said and raised his hand. A moment later a flurry of pigeons and crows rose into the sky from opened boxes dotted through the field. Robyn wasted no time. The crowd screamed in excitement.

  When the last pigeon flew from range, pages rushed the field to collect the birds and set them before the competitors. Virgil hit five, tying with the man between them, but Robyn shot seven. Virgil grabbed her hand and raised it to the sky. The crowd screamed and stomped the ground. The two men lifted her onto their shoulders as she beamed, holding her bow aloft, and they walked her to Prince Quinn.

  “Marvelous shooting, Your Grace,” the handsome man looked like an older version of Virgil. He smiled, setting a crown of blue roses on her head and handing her a purse.

  The men set her down, and she slipped the purse to the third competitor. He tried to give it back, but she gave him a queenly glare and he bowed with a gracious smile.

  She and Virgil returned to the shade for a spell, and Virgil slipped off.

  “Will you be competing today?” Robyn asked Danaya who was several years older than her.

  “No, I never learned these things,” she replied in a smooth accent. She was a pretty woman but did not stand out as Robyn expected royalty to.

  “What else does Prince Virgil compete in?”

  The comely woman smiled. “Horsemanship.”

  It did not take long for the crowd to fall quiet as a single horseman on a dapple gray entered the field and began to take the horse through his paces. It was like nothing Robyn had ever seen before. The horses moved as one with the rider. The riders gave no signs as they trotted, cantered, changed leads mid stride, sidestepped, and trotted in place.

  The crowd cheered when the routine was finished, and Robyn sat with rapt attention as one man after another entered and worked their mounts. Some men were soldiers, others nobles, and even a few Mages participated. Finally Virgil entered on his white mare, her neck crested perfectly. He rode without a cape, and his hands were gloved in white.

  “This is a rare horse,” Danaya whispered as she leaned in. “It is a breed, how you say…is bred three ways, from three different breeds.” Robyn nodded in understanding. “One is a war horse, another a mountain pony, and another a desert racer. See the thick neck, the compact legs, and the smaller torso? This breed is smart, dangerous, and excellent. The stallions are too aggressive. Only the mares can be ridden.”

  Robyn turned her attention back to the powerfully built white horse as she stepped through her paces. Virgil trotted her in a circle, keeping her hindquarters in one pivotal spot. Her forefeet kicked to her arched nose. He stopped her, and with an unseen sign, she rose up on her hind legs, holding herself in a controlled rear, kicking a forefoot out now and again to balance.

  The crowd hushed. Princess Danaya leaned in again. “Prince Virgil has had this horse for five years and trained her himself. He is always a crowd favorite. He always wins but forfeits.”

  The horse cantered in a wide circle, frothing at the mouth. Virgil straightened and tightened the reigns. The horse suddenly leapt into the air and kicked out her legs in a full spread, couching her forefeet tightly to her chest. The crowd awed. She landed in a canter and continued in a circle before repeating the action. Through the tricks Robyn watched the black reigns over Virgil’s white-gloved hands and saw no movement.

  “These are battle tactics,” Danaya explained. “Your Aidenmarians use them as well.”

  “I wonder if the Head Mage’s horse can do them.”

  “A Head Mage’s? Certainly.”

  Virgil pulled the horse to a halt in the center, and the crowd held its breath. The horse suddenly leapt straight into the air, mane blowing. The crowd gasped, and a few cheered. Virgil did not shift his seat an inch, leaning forward to be enveloped in the mane.

  The horse came to a standstill, and Virgil dismounted smoothly stepping away and turning back to the creature. Robyn could not tell if he gave verbal or physical instruction, but the horse broke into a canter around him. She leapt into the air, kicking out her back legs, then came to an abrupt halt and raised on her hind legs. Robyn heard Virgil make a guttural noise of disproval, and the horse stretched up higher before settling back down and bending one foreleg. She kneeled on it, arching her head in a bow towards the King. With a smile Virgil threw a leg over her saddle, and she put her nose to a raised forefoot in mock salute as she stood.

  The crowd burst into a tremendous cheer, and he cantered her out with a wave.

  “I…have never seen the like.”

  “Prince Virgil is a wonderful horseman,” Danaya smiled. “I love to watch him work.”

  Virgil rejoined her a little while later.

  “That was beautiful,” Robyn breathed.

  “She is a good horse.”

  “No, you. You were amazing.”

  He gave her a soft smile, and his cheeks flushed. “I am glad you could watch.”

  “What is her name?”

  “I’aya. It means silk in your tongue.”

  “A lovely name.”

  A judge stepped out to announce to the crowd that Prince Virgil had claimed the title but unfortunately forfeited, so the crown and purse went to a soldier and his black charger. Virgil crowned him in roses of white and slapped his shoulder soundly.

  “The Prince taught that man,” Danaya whispered.

  Robyn looked at Virgil with new admiration. She plucked a blue rose from her crown and slipped it through a buttonhole in his coat. He smiled humbly.

  They sat through the rest of the tournaments well into the afternoon, snacking on pot pies, rich fruits, meats on sticks, and drinking cool wine. Despite it still being winter, the sun was relentless.

  Blessedly, the nobility were finally released as the tourneys finished, and Robyn returned to her room to change into a more lavish gown and refresh herself. A long banquet with music, dancing, and performers was to be held until midnight when the real celebration would begin. Robyn yawned at the thought of it.

  “The gold one, Your Grace?”

  Robyn nodded.

  “With the eagle necklace?”

  “Which one is that?”

  The maid held it out for her. “Prince Virgil sent it up while you were out.”

  It was a beautiful sweeping choker designed to nestle in the hollow of her throat and wrap its wings around her neck. “That one.”

  “Will the Head Mage be joining you tonight?”

  Robyn spun the ring and clicked it into place. She had summoned him once today but without results. “We will see.”

  Chapter 3

  Mikelle leaned against the doorframe of the small library with her arms folded. Afton moved slowly about Gabriel. He remained unconscious because Afton kept him asleep, but every now and then, he would twitch, and Afton would move her hands over him.

  Mikelle had not seen the worst of it because Shaun had not informed her until hours later. She rushed to his side as soon as she heard. Afton remained calm the entire time, speaking little and doing everything in her power to keep him from moving. His body had calmed over the hours, but his skin was slick with sweat as he expelled the poison.

  “Water,” Afton said quietly, and Mikelle pushed off the wall and shook a canteen. Mikelle drew water from a pail and slid it through his cracked lips. Though he was pale, Afton seemed optimistic.

  “What color are his lips?” Afton asked.

  “Linen white, no longer blue,” replied Mikelle.

  Afton nodded and put a hand over his twitching knee, stilling the muscles with a white pattern Mikelle did not know.

  “You are a skilled healer.”

  Afton smiled sheepishly.

  “I’ve never seen anyone work like you do.” While Afton stilled his spasming muscles, she also adjusted him, cracking his neck, realigning his shoulders, and snapping something in his hip that made Mikelle gag. Her methodical push and pull over his muscles drew the toxins out while relaxing the fibers. His shoulders and arms no longer twitched. She had bee
n at it for hours, working her way from one major muscle group to the next.

  “When will we know he will live?”

  “He will,” Afton replied. “T’ worst has passed. He will be exhausted when he wakes, but alive.”

  She insisted on keeping him strapped down, but Mikelle did not complain. Once she finished rehydrating him, she wicked the sweat from his skin and took his hand up.

  “Is he always so reckless?”

  Mikelle raised her brows. “More so. His job comes with much sacrifice.”

  “More t’an t’is?”

  “He died for me,” Mikelle whispered. Months later, and she still had not wrapped her brain around it. She never would. “He knowingly took a spear meant for me.”

  Afton stopped moving, and her face wished for an explanation she felt she did not have the permission to ask. Mikelle explained it anyway. It was no secret. The more Gaelsins knew about their leader, the better they could trust him.

  A young man suddenly appeared in the doorway and looked down at Gabriel with hope in his eyes. “I overheard a rumor,” he whispered.

  “Did the Secondhand let you through?” Mikelle recognized him from a Classing but could not remember his name. There had been far too many.

  He shook his head. “I snuck past. Will he live?”

  “With rest. Leave him be, Mage.”

  “May I stand guard? I will watch him in your stead if you need to refresh yourselves.”

  Mikelle narrowed her eyes. “Thank you, but no. We can manage.”

  “But…”

  “Leave,” Mikelle said with Councilwoman authority. The boy frowned giving a reluctant nod and vanished.

  Afton went to the slender window between book cases and closed it to a crack. Gabriel’s body had heated well beyond normal, but the timid Gaelsin could tell with a touch that he was cooling slowly.

  “How much longer?” Mikelle asked. Over her lengthy story, Gabriel’s body had not twitched once, and a tint of color returned to his lips.