by Mike Shelton
Christine laughed. “Oh Dad . . . But what if this doesn't work?”
“Then we will try another way,” he answered in a matter-of-fact voice.
“What other way? Do you think it will turn to fighting?”
“I hope not . . . but . . .” He sounded so tired to her. “But we must not think of that now. In three days you will go to the city. That is petition day. The king hears open petitions from any of his subjects. They cannot turn you away.”
“Will you go too?” Hope filled her voice.
“No. I don’t have the strength for that anymore. I . . . I . . . I find it hard going into the city.”
“If you don’t like the city, why don't you fight, Dad?” A voice from the other room boomed as Jain came in. “Are you afraid to lose?”
Their father sat silent for a moment. He stared at his feet, and then with a heavy head looked up. “The only thing I am afraid of losing is you two and the rest of my family,” he said with teary eyes. “I would fight the entire army myself for my family, if it would do any good. Please be careful. Both of you.”
“But why?” asked Jain. “I just don't understand you.”
Stefen got up to walk out of the room, “Someday. Someday you will understand. ”
“You upset him.” Christine turned on Jain.
“I just asked him a question. I don't understand any of you. I want to fight.” Jain’s arms flew into the air. His face reddened under his scraggly brown mop of hair. “I want them to know they can't kick us around.”
“Maybe the petition will work . . .” began Christine. She didn’t understand why her brother was so angry all the time now. “Settle down and let us try.”
“The petition . . . the petition . . . It’s not going to work, but all this nonsense is making you famous in the meantime, isn't it? Is that what you want?” Jain paced around the room, his voice booming. “You don’t have your city boy around now, so you need to be a big shot on your own.”
“Jain. That's not fair,” Christine yelled. “I just made a suggestion . . . You know I would never . . .”
“Well when your plan ends in failure, then we will put my plan in motion,” interrupted Jain.
“And what is your plan? To get yourself killed?” Christine slammed her hand on the kitchen table. It hurt but she didn’t care. Her brother was being foolish and stupid.
“Not to get killed. But to kill.”
“Do you know what you are saying? You’re still a boy. What has gotten into your head? You have never killed anyone before,” argued Christine.
“No, but I want to. I want to kill any city boy I can get my hands on. None of them are good. None of them.” He turned to walk out of the room, when he noticed Emily standing around the corner, crying.
“What about Darius?” she asked Jain, with tears dripping down her face. “You don’t want to kill him, do you?”
He stopped as if he was going to say something, then just continued towards the door, slamming it on his way out.
Emily ran to Christine and embraced her. “It will be all right,” Christine whispered to her younger sister, wondering if it ever really would be.
Chapter Fourteen
THE CASTLE
The next three days dragged by. Christine tried to help her mom around the house to take her mind off things, but it didn't work much. She found herself thinking about Darius more often as she tried to wonder how the petition would work. She knew Darius’s father would be at the King’s side, and she knew that he didn't like her much.
Christine wished Darius were here right now to give her suggestions and comfort. She wondered if he still remembered her. She wondered if he even cared anymore.
He still cares, whispered Lightning to her.
How do you know? He could be anywhere. I may never see him again. Tears of frustration came to her eyes and she wiped them off with a quick brush of her hand. She knew he cared. She had to trust in that.
He will find his way back to you. Somehow, he must! Or all will be lost. All will be lost.
Lightning’s words confused Christine. They faded out of her mind. She was beginning to not only hear, but to sense somehow, her Cremelino’s feelings. Feelings of worry, urgency, and power. She didn’t know what it meant. It frightened her somewhat that she felt so close of a bond to her horse. She needed to talk to others and determine if her ability was normal with these Cremelinos. She knew how magic was looked upon in the Realm. She couldn’t risk others finding out until she knew more about it. And where could she find someone to talk to about magic? For now she would have to deal with it on her own.
The day to deliver the petition came and Christine, along with two men—one in his twenties, Alvyn Alstryn, and one her father’s age, Martin Halverssn—headed towards the castle. The sky shone bright and sunny, but the coolness in the air made her wrap her hooded green cloak around her more tightly. She dressed in her nicest clothes; a simple dress with lace on the edges, which her mother had made for her. Lightning walked with them. They passed through the market area, and people gawked at them out of their tents and small shops. A few offered their goods for sale, but most just turned their heads away and ignored them. The smell of freshly baked rolls made Christine’s stomach growl. She had been too nervous to eat that morning.
A few wayward children playing ran in front of them, almost tripping them, until their mothers called them back to their homes. The small group passed through the outer city and into the city center. Here, stone and brick houses rose three and four stories tall. The streets were kept clean by a night crew. Carriages and horses passed them by, carrying nobles to seemingly important places. Their distrust of the outsiders was obvious as they turned away their faces when they passed.
The castle loomed up in front of them as they headed up the steeper cobblestone street. More guards were around to keep a watch on anyone who approached. As they got closer, they joined a group of other petitioners coming from other directions in the city.
All the petitioners were ushered through the palace gates, into the castle, and down long hallways with far-reaching ceilings. They were guided into a waiting room. It was too late in the year to hold the petitions outside.
Once a month King Edward held a time in his throne room for any commoner in the Realm to make a request of him. It was the only time the small group from the farmlands would be allowed without an appointment. They would never get in any other way. They would have been given excuses and delays, hoping that the farmers would just give up. But today they were admitted inside, and by Realm law and long-standing tradition the King could not send them away.
A servant took them to a waiting room with the others. Christine’s head swam as she looked around the room. She supposed since it was a waiting room it was considered simple by the castle’s occupants. However, she had never been in an actual room so large in her life. The ceilings were taller than their barn. The heavy red curtains hung open and were tied with gold tassels. Light streamed into the room, reflecting the sunshine onto the polished tops of four tables placed throughout the room. About thirty chairs were scattered around the room, each with sturdy, high backs and golden cushions. Christine filled her lungs with a deep breath. She now understood some of Darius’s bewilderment and perplexity with the farmlands, if this was the type of place he was used to seeing.
The others in the room tended to keep to their own groups. Some were from other cities, marked by their colors either in a sash, on a hat, or by some other strategically placed design. Christine’s group was obvious for being the only ones from the countryside, their clothes being less colorful and fancy than the others in the room—but Christine’s dress was only a small notch below the others. She smiled at that. At least they wouldn’t stick out too much.
A few groups at a time were taken out and led into the King’s throne room. Christine realized they would be in the last group. After seeing the waiting room, she could not imagine the throne room. Her head spun, seeing wonders that sh
e couldn’t imagine. Glass and gold cases holding rare and special objects decorated the room. The light from the window and the additional lamps sprayed sparkles of light all around the room.
Christine reached out to touch a case, but a guard shook his head at her with a frown of obvious disgust. Her eyes moved to the tapestries. The scenes of long-ago battles, of kings, and of other kingdoms were woven with exquisite detail. Each tapestry hung larger than any room in her house.
Christine suppressed anger at seeing all of the opulence and wealth that was contained in this one room. It was more than existed in all the farmlands north of the city and perhaps all the way to Sur as well. Many farmers scraped by a living, some even starving at times. They were being treated in an unfair manner by a city that threw wealth around like a toy. It was unfair. Her anger felt good. It distracted her from feeling insignificant around so many others of wealthy upbringing.
The group in front of them moved away from the King. She could see, for the first time in her life, the Throne of Power. A thing of stories and legends and myth. The pure size of the opulent throne amazed her. Seated on it was the King of the Realm, the supreme leader, King Edward DarSan Montere himself.
In the back of her mind, almost as a whisper, she heard Lightning’s thoughts: Such power in that throne.
Lightning was tied up at a small stable outside of the castle. Christine wanted her close by for support. You can feel its power? she asked her Cremelino.
Yes, can’t you? Close your eyes and feel it through me.
Christine did and gasped. It pulled to her and emboldened her. This power was not something to fear but something to use. She wondered if this King even knew what he had. It was wonderful. She was amazed others didn’t seem to know it was there. But in her amazement she also wondered why her Cremelino could feel it and how she could make Christine feel that power also.
Use the power and speak with passion. Good luck, child.
Darius’s father, Richard, stood next to the King. She saw Darius’s resemblance in him. Richard looked older and more tired than the last time she had seen him, but that had been earlier in the summer.
“State where you are from and what your request is,” Richard stated formally with a bored voice, hardly even looking at the group.
“We are from Anikari, from just outside of the city, great King,” said Christine’s older companion. “We have here some demands . . .”
The King raised his brows at the word “demands.”
“I mean requests,” the farmer continued. “We feel we have been treated in an unfair manner, both as a group of people personally and in trade. We are requesting that you read over our petition and join with us to find a mutually satisfactory and happy solution.” He stopped and took a deep breath. He had practiced the lines, trying to sound educated and flexible.
“We will consider them when we have time,” Richard answered. The King handed him the petition. “As you can appreciate, we are very busy today. It may take a while.”
“I think you should consider them soon,” stated the younger man with Christine. They all looked at him in surprise. The man’s lips snarled in anger. The group of three hadn't planned on him saying anything. “We think it is a fair arrangement. But . . .”
“That is enough.” King Edward stood up and his voice echoed around the room. “I hope you are not telling me how to run my kingdom.”
“The kingdom is not just inside the walls of the city.” The young man from the farmlands stepped forward half a step. Guards around the King stiffened and stepped forward.
“He is just concerned, Your Majesty.” Christine spoke for the first time. It was as if Richard and the King had not noticed her before. She spoke softly but with power.
“And who are you?” asked the King, turning towards Christine with a mocking smile. He told the guards to hold their peace with a motion of his hands.
Christine sensed Lightning in the back of her mind, urging her to go on. Through Lightning, she pulled from the power of the throne.
“I am Christine Anderssn, my King,” she said with a perfect curtsy. “I understand that a matter as important as this may take time to discuss with your advisors. Please read over our petition and we will return next month for your answer.”
Christine could tell the effect that the small amount of power Lightning shared with her had on King Edward. He stirred uncomfortably in the presence of her confidence.
Edward opened his mouth, stroked his hair on the side of his head, below the jeweled crown he wore, then closed his mouth again.
Before he could speak, Christine turned towards Richard. “How is Darius doing, councilor?” she asked in her most polite manner.
Richard covered up a small cough of surprise and stuttered. “He . . . is . . . fine. Do you know my son?”
Before she could even answer, Richard must have put her name together with the girl that Darius had been friends with. He had only seen her on a few occasions before, and even then it was from a distance.
“I think you know who I am.” Christine gave him a sweet smile. “If you see Darius, tell him I hope he returns soon.” She found herself struggling to hold back the tears.
The King remained silent through this exchange.
Christine turned back to the King once again. “We will return on next month’s petitioning day for your answer. That should be enough time.” She motioned to the other men. “We’ll be going now. We don’t want to take up any more of the King’s time.”
She turned and the other two followed her. They left through the large doors, which a steward closed behind them, leaving King Edward and senior councilor Richard Williams alone inside the throne room.
* * * *
The King sat in thoughtful silence with Richard at his side. In time he turned towards his councilor.
“Did you feel that, Richard?”
“Feel what?”
“The power.”
“No, My Lord. I didn’t feel anything.”
“It was that girl. She did it. She stirred the power of the throne somehow. I have never felt the power before. You have heard the stories like I have. My father felt it a few times, but I never have. I always wondered if it was because . . .” He stopped and looked around. They were alone, but he knew that a few guards and stewards stood just on the other side of the doorway. He lowered his voice. “Well, you know why.”
Richard shrugged. He too was concerned about the girl.
“Can she know where Darius went and why? I told them not to tell anyone,” the King said with flashing eyes.
“I think she might know where he went, but no one knows why. No one but us.”
“Ah, that is true, my friend. Not even Darius comprehends why he is off training. But keep an eye on her; she could be dangerous. We can't have her and her people causing trouble now. With the Belorians and Gildanians generating trouble, I can’t deal with the farmers now. Watch all of them, but keep a special eye on her. The power she stirred in the throne is not something to trifle with.”
Richard’s eyes widened but no words came from his opened mouth.
“You have read the histories as much as I have, Richard. The throne has its own power. Each king feels it, more or less, and that power helps him to judge rightly and give him the confidence to be king. I don’t feel it as much as my father said he did, and I think I know why that is. But this girl, she drew some of that power to herself. I felt it.”
“Is she a . . . a . . . ?” Richard rubbed his forehead with his hand.
“A wizard? I doubt it. But when the lesser wizards were banished outside the city they ended up mixing with the farmers. Who knows what remnants have trickled down the bloodlines through the years?”
Richard paced back and forth a few times. “We play a dangerous game here, Your Highness. If the outsiders got hold of the power of the throne, God help us all.”
“Richard, the farmers are the least of our worries. I need some information on the man in Belor right
now. What do you have there?” The king switched the subject back to more important matters.
Richard motioned to the far end of the room, and the steward walked out the doors and back again with a man in tow.
The man wanted to trade secrets about the Belorians for gold. The King needed all the information he could get on the fighting in Belor, so he bargained for half the money the man wanted if the information was new to him. The amount was nothing compared to the full king’s treasury.
“They are training with swords and other weapons. Talk is, they will attack soon,” the man spoke in seriousness.
“How do you know this information?” questioned Richard.
“I hunt in the meadows and saw a group of Belorians practicing. They looked well-trained. They were disciplined and excited. A very tall man led them. He had dark auburn hair and seemed to pulse with some type of power. They did everything he asked them to.” The man paused and then added, “They wouldn’t really attack us, would they?”
“That will be enough for now,” said the King, as he motioned for Richard to give him the gold. “You can go now. Your service is appreciated, but keep this information to yourself”
After the man left, King Edward spoke to Richard. “Have someone follow him. If what he says is true, shut off all food and trade into Belor and organize our soldiers to march to the city immediately. I want to find out who this man is who thinks he can defy me!”
“Yes, Edward,” agreed Richard.
“And, Richard, have someone glance at that petition for me,” ended the King. “I am sure they will be back next month.”
Richard raised his eyebrows at the King, but said nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
THE TEST
