Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom)

by John Forrester

  Chapter Twenty-One

  TAEL DROPPED THE letter on the desk and felt a twisting in his stomach that only got worse as the shopkeeper waddled eagerly over to him, his chubby hands holding a plain white gown with a steel thread insignia of the Order of Calathian Knights woven along the chest. Was Sebine already betrothed to be married? He had to see her. The idea of Sebine being married to someone else made him feel angry and vengeful at the same time. Now he had yet another reason to want to kill the King.

  As he reached towards his coin pouch the shopkeeper stopped him with his meaty palm.

  "That won't be necessary. The Bishop is a loyal, long-time customer and I want you to consider this as a gift. You're young and just getting started on your holy path. May the gods favor you on your journey as a knight."

  Hands receiving the Supplicant's Robes, Tael bowed his head and thanked the man. "Is there a place I can change? The Bishop requested my presence tonight."

  "Why of course, young supplicant. There is a changing room just this way."

  The man waited outside while Tael slid the robes over his clothes, and the shopkeeper asked whether they fit well. The vestments fit fine, though they were a bit short for Tael's height. As he went outside the man clapped in satisfaction.

  "Fit for an audience with the Patriarch. You look like a holy warrior blessed by the gods, ready to slay evil in the heart of darkness."

  Tael gave the man a weak smile. "Thank you, kindly. Are you sure you won't take my coin?"

  The man waved the idea away with an expression of forced indignation forming on his rotund face. "Say only kind words to the Bishop for me. That will be payment enough."

  And with that Tael headed for the door, gave the man a quick nod, and stalked through streets kissed by twilight's purple-and-gold fading light. The way was littered with citizens relaxing after the day, enjoying a casual smoke, chatting with friends, snacking on dried meats and nuts and cheeses, with opportunistic stands selling food and drinks and smokes along the way.

  He realized he was supremely hungry, and couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal. A food stand riveted his sense of smell and made him drool: a wrap of hot bread filled with thinly-sliced pork (slathered in garlic oil) and hot peppers, yoghurt sauce and slivered, sweet onions. Retrieving two copper coins from his pouch, he handed the curious girl at the stand the money and thankfully accepted the steaming wrap.

  "Be careful...it's hot." She winked at him and popped a pepper into her grinning mouth.

  She was right—it was hot both ways and burned in his mouth as he gleefully ate the meal. He opened his mouth and exhaled, letting the air cool him off.

  "You'll be needing milk, I believe? Another copper will do."

  He nodded, knowing he'd pay ten copper coins to quench this fire. Still, the food tasted delicious, especially the chewy bread and garlic pork. Another coin placed in her small hand and the shop girl gave him a deep mug of fresh milk from a vat she kept aside her stall. This too was delicious and he once again thanked the girl.

  Glancing around, he failed to see the spires of the Illumina Cathedral. "Which way to the cathedral?"

  "Are you going to join the church?" The plump girl inspected his white robes. "Would be a shame to let a man like you go all stuffy and stale in the halls of an old, musty church."

  He raised an eyebrow at her. "Not as a priest—but as a knight of the Calathian Church."

  "A knight, you say? Seem a bit scrawny to be a knight. Don't you have to wear heavy plate mail and wield giant swords and all? You'll have to put weight on those bones of yours...get some heft. Should eat another wrap, at least. Start your training early, if you ask me."

  After he'd wolfed down the last bite he handed her another two coppers. "I'll take your suggestion...and directions to the Illumina Cathedral."

  "Whoa, now...aiming high, aren't ya? Here's your wrap. Eat it all up before your meeting with the church folks. Don't forget me and my wraps, you won't, will ya? Come back and visit a girl, show me how you've hefted up under all your training. You'll find the cathedral down that street."

  He raised the wrap in thanks and gave her his most charming smile, enjoying the feeling of warmth you find between two regular people sharing food and words without malice. In the dimming light he caught a flush of feeling light up her face, and felt good for making her smile.

  Past the artisan quarter, past a square where the wealthy women ate small cakes and sipped tea and gossiped endlessly, Tael found the rising, twisted spires of magical-hewn glass illuminated by ceaseless beams of conjured colored light. It had been many years since he'd last seen it, perhaps when he was eleven, as at his last visit he'd stayed close to the docks. Now the great cathedral looked more magnificent than ever, perhaps due to the radiance of the last bit of sunlight hitting the highest spire.

  Beyond the cathedral lay the palace, and inside Sebine. Was she wondering why he never returned to see her that night? Or perhaps she'd already forgotten about him, due to her imminent marriage to the Duke's son. What was he to offer a princess, anyway? A life on the road, escaping danger, fighting off assassins, hoping one day to have a normal life? Did he even have a chance of killing the King and changing what this Kingdom meant to its people?

  He trudged towards the rear of the cathedral, thinking of his mother and his father and what they believed in. How was his life reflecting those beliefs? Or was he just squandering all their time and attention in raising him, tossing all their hopes for him into the gutter. Not to mention what his grandfather had done since his parents had died. Why was it all so important that he live? He was determined to ask his grandfather to tell him everything, now that he was a man. He had to finally know the truth.

  A man wearing long, black robes strode ahead towards Tael, casting curious eyes at him as they approached each other. Tael tilted his head in query, but failed to recognize the young man's face. But the man stopped, gaped, and clapped a hand up to his breast in surprise.

  "You...I know you." The man's head went left and right as if checking if anyone was looking. "I know this sounds crazy, but"—the man leaned in to whisper—"I'm Princess Sebine, disguised by a spell. Follow me."

  Sebine? Tael studied the man, confused but intrigued at the same time. He followed until rounding a back alley the shape of the man wearing black robes transformed into into a girl wearing scarlet robes. Tael stopped and the shock was so strong he almost heaved out his dinner.

  The girl turned and pulled down her hood, revealing the beautiful face of Princess Sebine. She ran over to him, tears brimming under her amber eyes, and she embraced him until the sweet smell of her hair filled his nostrils. Her exhalations fell softly on his neck as she started to whisper.

  "I thought you were dead. After I left you that night I was asleep and had a vision of you lying—bleeding—on the stones behind the winemaker's shop. I came to you disguised as the Captain of the Guard, and roused the vintner to aid me in bringing you to the healer. I wanted to come sooner and see you but..." She let out a small laugh. "I slept for two days...guess I held the spell for too long."

  Tael separated from her and held her arms, gazing into her eyes. "You're a sorceress? An illusionist?"

  She shrugged and leaned nearer to him, her body like a cat longing for attention. "I don't know what I am. I've learned magic from spying on the Hakkadians. I'd like to study with the Arcanum, and hope I can one day. Only recently I've learned the spell of illusive self-transformation."

  With her words Tael felt like he had to trust her. She'd revealed traitorous knowledge and abilities forbidden by the King. Though the fact that that knowledge came from the Hakkadians puzzled him.

  "I thought I'd never see you again," he said, his lips forming a frown. "We'd promised to meet at the Festival the next night and I never showed up. Figured you were furious with me for not coming." He smiled and slipped a lock of her auburn hair away from her eyes. "And here you were the person that saved me. I owe you for my life. I would have di
ed from the assassin's blade."

  "Assassin? Who would want to target you?" Sebine's frightened expression turned perplexed as her mind seemed to process the information. "And why are you wearing Supplicant's Robes embroidered with the Knights of the Calathian Church? Are you trying to join the Order?"

  "It's a really long, complicated story, and it involves the King and my family." Tael glanced back down the alleyway, worried that someone might be listening in. "Won't you get in trouble if someone sees you outside the palace at night?"

  Sebine nodded, and pulled him into her arms and he felt the sadness and longing in her embrace. "I came to see that you were all right. And I found out some disturbing news in the library tonight. It's all just going crazy and I'm having a hard time understanding everything. I feel like I want to escape someplace with you and never come back."

  "Is it because of your upcoming marriage to Duke Greerwald's son?"

  "How did you know? The King hasn't announced it, as far as I am aware of."

  Tael pointed at the robes. "While I was waiting for these vestments I peeked at a letter from Bishop Rathgor that talked about your marriage ceremony... I was devastated when I read it. Thought maybe you had been angry at me for not returning to see you."

  "Far from it. I really care about you and was so worried. The King just came today and told me I had to marry the Duke's son—he's ten years old! It's so ridiculous. And this after the King started waging a stupid war with the Malathians, after the disaster of a party with Prince Jaraz of the Malathians."

  "Sounds like a mess."

  "It is but that's not the real problem. The King is just a distraction...the real issue is the Princes of Naverstrom. It seems the Princes were awoken several hundred years ago from a ancient, magical slumber, because of an incursion into their depths by the Hakkadians."

  "How did you learn all this? Last time we talked it seemed you knew little about the Hakkadians."

  "I met a young scholar who's been researching banned books for many years to uncover truths about the Hakkadians and the Princes of Naverstrom. He showed me one book written by a wizard of the Arcanum with the name of Master Greyth Shalinor."

  Tael gaped in shock at her words. "Master Greyth Shalinor is my grandfather. My name is Tael Shalinor."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SEBINE FELT THE world whirling wildly around her, the movement of thoughts and memories circled out far and came back to settle in her mind as some electrified realization. Everything is truly connected. And indeed it was. Had it not been for her choice to imitate Emitt Weylor she'd likely never have talked to him and discovered what he knew, and if she had never met Tael, she never would have connected his grandfather to Emitt's studies. Here everything was all laid out for her to take in, chew thoughtfully, and decide what to do next.

  "So your grandfather was one of those wizards on that ill-fated expedition to the heart of Naverstrom. The Old King Salgar had many of the others in the expedition killed, managed to defeat a Prince in the depths, and stole one of their most sacred and powerful relics—which he bequeathed secretly to his son, Braxion, who uses it to his advantage to this day. After I heard the story from the scholar, I knew I had to find you and understand what you had learned so we could compare stories."

  Tael nodded and with tenderness held Sebine's hands. "We need to talk to my grandfather. But first I have to see Bishop Draven and get my sword back. He still thinks I intend to join the Order of Calathian Knights."

  "Will you be safe inside the Bishop's quarters of the Calathian Church? If you have assassins sent after you, aren't you worried about exposing yourself like that? And besides, who's trying to kill you?"

  Sebine saw a flutter of frustration pass over his face at her many questions. With a reassuring hand she stroked his arm and said sorry with her eyes, and released a tired, confused sigh.

  "The King hired assassins from the Black Heart Clan and killed my parents. I told you at the festival they were dead, but I didn't say how." His head shook in resignation and sadness. "They've been trying to track me down and kill me ever since. My grandfather has protected me, moving me around, hiding me, giving me false identities, teaching me to disguise myself. I've been away at a mountain lake far to the north for over a year hoping for my grandfather's return. I got tired of waiting and came here and an assassin attacked me after you left the Festival. It was my own stupid fault. And after all that waiting, just today my grandfather returned to Trikar. I spotted him at the docks."

  "No wonder you want to kill the King. If I were you I'd want revenge as well. But do you think the Church was connected to all this?"

  Tael shook his head with certainty. "I highly doubt it. Wouldn't the King keep his dealings separate? Otherwise, why go to the Clan in the first place to seek my death. With the Church they have to at least keep up appearances of neutrality between the King and the Arcanum and the people. The citizens support the wizards of the Arcanum because of their aid in defending the Kingdom. The Hakkadian sorcerers are sneered upon by the general populace and the King has to keep his associations with them a secret."

  "So you're just going to go in there and meet with the Bishop without a plan?" Sebine regretted the harshness in her voice the moment the words came out. She softened her eyes and looked up at him with concern. "I just don't want to see you hurt again...or dragged off to some dungeon."

  "I'm not defenseless going in there. My grandfather has taught a few spells of magic, though he's refused formal training until I'm eighteen. He claims the study of the arts twists young minds not fully mature and capable of withstanding the pressure and allure of power. The Hakkadians are trained since birth in the way of sorcery and it warps their entire view of people and the world."

  "What spells have you learned?"

  "A few...but the one I use the most is the spell to cloak myself in shadows. It makes me practically invisible to non-magical eyes."

  "So other wizards and sorcerers can still see you?" Sebine wrinkled up her brow in concern.

  "Only if they have the gift of true-sight—which most lack. Besides, the Church has few wizards amongst their ranks, and those are mostly off meditating at monasteries in the mountains." He pulled her close and lifted her chin to gaze deep into his convincing eyes. "So if I sense anything amiss I'll escape and return to my grandfather. Can you meet me tomorrow night at the healer's house?"

  "I will...I promise. But do you have to go now?" Sebine leaned in to him and snaked her hand around his neck and pulled his mouth into hers, and kissed him with a fervor she didn't know she possessed. She felt like all the world around her was crumbling and only Tael and she stood on ground unmolested. But she knew that could change in an instant.

  He exhaled after her kiss, panting, and forehead-to-forehead they stared into each other's eyes. "I don't want to go. I want to take you someplace quiet and safe and hold you and kiss you all night. Now that you're here I don't ever want to leave you again. I know there's a way for us to escape this together, and I think we have no choice but to leave. We're just small pieces in the world's vicious game and we have to survive. But I need my sword to survive. It is part of what defines my fate. I was foolish and left it alone and now I have to fix that bad decision...and I will."

  She nodded in acceptance and squeezed his scalp, pressing his forehead even harder against hers until the pain was sweet from their contact. "Just don't die and don't be captured. Find your sword and I'll see you tomorrow night."

  With that she turned and stalked away, refusing to glance back for she knew she'd burst into tears for all the sorrow and anger and frustration she was feeling. She cast a spell and changed forms back into Emitt Weylor and strode to the palace, ignoring the murmur and moments of life stirring around her. Instead, she fixed her mind on the one immense realization that still echoed inside: everything is truly connected.

  The thought propelled her through the palace gates and past the guards and royals and courtesans milling around in the soft torchlight of
early evening, past the hunger and longing that comes to men and women at night, hunger for food and sex and attention, and a longing for finding all that is missing in their lives. And for the first time in her life, Sebine felt like the important things were connecting along her path. There was another life waiting for her that promised freedom and power and hope.

  She eased back into the library, nodding at the immobile guard, and upon entering found a squad of Vizathian Knights waiting for her. Her chest pounded with the force of her quickening heartbeat and her mouth went dry as sand.

  "Two Emitt Weylors?" The Captain of the Guard said, a righteous grin on his face. "I suppose you were the very same one that impersonated me the other night and confused my soldiers. I don't like magic and I despise being impersonated—even by a Princess. Come on now, we've orders to return you to the King."

  The knights had the decency to turn and allow Sebine the moment to transform back into her real self. Only well-trained soldiers would keep themselves from gawking at displays of magic, likely learned from lessons given them by Hakkadians sorcerers. She followed the soldiers up the stairs to the King's Chambers, where she found the King sitting at the great, blazing hearth. He refused to raise his eyes to greet her, and when the Captain closed the door, only the snapping and crackles of the fire filled the emptiness of the room.

  The King tossed a letter at the burning logs and squinted as the flames lapped up around the paper, illuminating the black stains of ink for a moment, and then only an ashen shell remained. His mouth opened and he exhaled hard in displeasure and frustration.

  "Tomorrow is the wedding...we've hastened the day in light of these circumstances, for you are far beyond being trusted. And I've had that poor fool scholar whom you've impersonated imprisoned. We found his studies improper and his associations with you questionable. If you fail to act reasonably I'll have him killed. Are my words clear enough?"