Path of Kings

by James Dale

  Judas Bloody Hell.

  They went their separate ways at sunset. Captain Haadan to ready the evening patrol, Jack back to the tenuous hospitality of the Khan's pavilion. Akeem brought him dinner later that evening, again checking the contents of the tent to make sure nothing was missing, again leaving with a muttered curse and a look of warning. An hour later, with Hamman Khan not yet returned, Jack made sure Eaudreuil was safe and settled for the evening, then made a bed of soft pillows and wrapped his cloak tightly around his shoulders, and drifted off to sleep in the heart of the enemy camp.

  "Awake Jack Braedan!" Hamman's deep voice greeted him early the next morning. "It is time for you to be going I'm afraid. I have been ordered to return to Khazin-Akbhor. My time on the border is complete. Either you return with us as a guest of the Great Khan or you continue your journey west-ward today."

  "I don't suppose you would consider parting with some of these pillows, would you?" Jack yawned, stretching.

  "I'll let you have the entire lot for Eaudreuil," the Khan laughed.

  "Ah...well it was a thought." he sighed, pulling on his boots.

  "Don't say I didn't offer," Hamman grinned. "I do have other gifts for you however. A good Kadinar saddle and some food for the remainder of your journey. As a final parting courtesy, a Shifk'a.”

  “What is that?” Braedan asked, strapping on The Talon of the Hawk, and gathering the rest of this things.

  A Shifk’a it turned out, was the durable, flat bottomed crafts used by the Kadinar to haul supplies and field gear across the grass-covered plains. It was the craft's other purpose that pleased Jack however, for the Shifk'a could also be used as a pontoon for crossing rivers and he would not be forced to swim the cold, winter swollen Whesguard.

  "Thank you, Hamman Khan," Jack bowed. "Both will be greatly appreciated. Especially the saddle."

  "Thank Manar," Hamman said. "Though I would have given them without his command."

  "Because of Ahala bid?" he asked, strapping on the Talon of the Hawk and sliding his horn bow onto his shoulders.

  "Because I like you," the Khan smiled. "Because without them you would not likely reach Dorshev in any shape to dispose of the rival for your lady's hand. That would probably mean I would one day have to run you out of Kadin again."

  "You don't have to worry," Jack promised, hoping he would be able to honor his word. “Though your land is stark, it is not without charm. I have spent many nights in lands such as this. The…solitude…of the wilderness gives a man much time to contemplate his life.”

  "It does indeed,” the Khan nodded. “Come. I will see you off. Your contemplation of life has come to an end in the lands of the Khadda’Jhen."

  They exited the pavilion to find the camp in a flurry of activity. All the surrounding, smaller tents had already been bundled up and strapped to the backs of pack horses, and clad warriors were busy finishing the last remaining checks on their mount's tack, preparing to de-camp. Captain Haadan was waiting for them, the promised saddle and stuffed saddle bags at his feet. A few feet away from him, Manar was happily feeding sections of an apple to a surprisingly docile Eaudreuil.

  "Are you sure you don't want to go to Khazin-Akbhor?" Jack mindspoke. "I could always walk to Brythond."

  "Tempting," the roan beamed around a mouthful of fruit. "But no. It sounds too hot for me."

  "Good morning Manar," Jack smiled at the boy. His left arm was in a sling and wrapped tight against his chest, but he appeared none the worse for wear. "How do you say thank you in Kadinar?" he asked Captain Haadan and pointed to the saddle and food.

  "Mahza Ghi."

  "Mahza Ghi Manar Kadda'Jhen," Jack bowed. "Thank you for your gifts. How's your arm?"

  "Eba tu'cas?" Hamman translated.

  "Ny peta," the boy grinned, moving the injured limb slowly.

  "Sore," his uncle laughed. "Though it isn't broken, Manar is done hunting for the time being."

  "Sorry to hear it," Jack replied, then on impulse he slipped the horn bow from his shoulder and presented it to the boy. "For when it is healed. For hunting Ghomari."

  Manar's face lit up with joy as Jack helped him slide the bow over his own small shoulders. "Mahza Ghi," the boy bowed, then began to speak rapidly in Kadinar, at the same time pulling off a large ring from his middle finger.

  "Manar!" Hamman cried, growing suddenly pale. "Hish qoma!"

  "Tal nubara comi!" the boy insisted firmly, pressing the ring into Braedan’s hand.

  "What's he saying?" Jack asked as he slipped the ring onto the small finger of his left hand. Whatever it was, it obviously hadn't pleased his uncle. All color had left the Khan's face and Captain Haadan looked as if he would go into cardiac arrest on the spot.

  "na Ahala bid Qumen tu'nal." the boy repeated.

  "Manar..." Hamman explained slowly, "Manar ad'Jhen commands Ahala bid be extended permanently to you and your house. Manar ad'Jhen also decrees that should you ever return to Kadin, you have but to present this ring, the symbol of his house, to any Kadinar warrior, and they will escort you unharmed to the court of his father."

  "And who is his father?" Jack asked hesitantly.

  "Mullah ad'Jhen." Hamman replied quietly. "Great Khan of the Kadda'Jhen, King of all Kadin."

  "That would make Manar..."

  "Prince and heir to the Throne of Kadin," Captain Haadan replied. "Who by royal decree has just adopted you into the Great Khan's house."

  "Judas Bloody Hell," Jack whispered, as the full impact of what the captain said slowly sank in. "I guess you'll not get the chance to cross swords with me after all captain?"

  "Ah well," Haadan sighed sadly. "There are other Dora’dai in the world. I don't suppose you would consider sending a few this way after you return to Dorshev? As a personal favor?"

  "I am sure there are some who would be willing to accept your invitation," Jack laughed, admiring the ring on his hand. It was a gold signet, embossed with a palm tree above crossed scimitars. "Sir Gain Ellgereth would absolutely love meeting you guys. Well...well. I didn't expect this."

  "Hahna du'bari?" Manar asked hopefully.

  "Do you accept the prince's gift?" Hamman Khan translated.

  "I do," Jack smiled, then bowed to the youngster. "And I look forward to visiting your father's house."

  "Katal," the Khan nodded to his royal nephew. "Hahna ben ju'bari Mullah Khan."

  The young prince grinned happily and bowed to Braedan.

  "I have nothing to give to match it though," Jack said thoughtfully.

  "Please, no more!" Hamman said, picking up the saddle and thrusting it toward Braedan. "If you give him anything else, he'll likely propose a marriage contract with his sister Princess Jaelinna!"

  “Thanks but no,” Jack laughed, “I have enough princess trouble already.” Accepting the gear, he settled it on Eaudreuil's broad back. After tightening the girth strap, he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. "It's been a pleasure gentleman," he smiled, as Captain Haadan handed him the saddle bags. "Next time I promise to write you first."

  "Just be sure to send it by one of your White Horse friends," Haadan grinned.

  "Hamman Khan. I cannot begin to thank you for your hospitality." Jack bowed. "When I see Countess Thessa again, I'll be sure and tell her how real Jhen treat their guests. If you are ever in Brythond, look me up. The drinks will be on me in repayment of your kindness."

  "Good journey," the Khan smiled, "Remember my advice! You are a Jhen now. I expect you to behave as one. Get to Dorshev as fast as possible and marry your Dora’dai Horsemaiden. Do not cross the Whesguard again unless you are bringing one of Eaudreuil's sons as an offer of peace."

  "I would like nothing better," Jack nodded. "Prince Manar, when we meet again, I expect to hear you have slain your own Ghomari."

  When the Khan translated Jack's parting words, the young prince bowed and replied with a stream of Kadinar which left his uncle as pale as a ghost.

  “Come on boy," Jack laughed, pat
ting Eaudreuil's neck, "Let's see what adventure awaits us today."

  A company of Kadinar followed Jack to the Whesguard River. Hamman Khan showed Braedan of to strap his belongings on the Shifk'a and brief instructions on the best way to stand and pole the craft. Jack pulled the Shifk'a to the edge of the river and guided Eaudreuil on board. It shifted under his weight, but seemed sturdy enough. With Eaudreuil balanced precariously in the center of the craft, Jack pushed the boat into the water and began polling across the slow-moving flow. Arriving on the opposite bank nearly half an hour later, exhausted but dry, he waved farewell to the Khan and his watching company then turned to face the empty plains.

  Chapter Nine

  Brythond

  Judging by its size the recently abandoned bivouac site, it had been occupied by at least fifty to sixty men. It had been three days since Braedan had left the Kadinar camp. Three days since crossing the Whesguard and heading north toward Brythond and he had not seen any other signs of life until now. Not long after passing by the bivouac, Eaudreuil warned him of horsemen nearing. Seeking to avoid any... misunderstandings he dismounted quickly and pulled the roan to the ground just as a patrol of half a dozen riders appeared not two miles downriver. There was no grateful child- prince to offer him safe passage here, and he had little hope the legionnaires would calmly wave him along north without hard questions being asked, despite his Doridanian helm and Val'anna stallion. Certainly not while he also wore a Kadinar signet ring and a grim'Hiru cloak. The irony was not lost on him he would be more welcome in a Kadinar camp than by the troops who should be considered his allies. When the patrol had passed safely out of sight, he remounted Eaudreuil and they resumed their journey north.

  It was two more days traveling upriver before they began to encounter isolated farming communities. These scattered outposts of civilization were certainly a welcome sight, unfortunately Jack's sinister appearance didn't incite open-armed hospitality from their inhabitants. The border landers weren't exactly hostile when they met him on the edge of their fields, usually in groups of three or four with pitch forks, wood ax and the odd sword, but their hard, suspicious looks afforded little warmth. With nothing to trade, a spare bed or barn loft would not be forthcoming no matter how cordially he addressed the farmers, he struck out west rather than chance an encounter with a paranoid farmer's grain fork. That evening of course, a cold rain began to fall. It didn't let up until he sighted the high, white walls of Brythond three days later.

  Brythond was built upon a solitary mountain, springing suddenly from the otherwise featureless plain bordering the shores of Lake Issa. Legend had it both lake and mountain had been formed during the titanic battle between Yh’Adan and Yh’gar when they fought for dominion of the earthe. Whether or not this was true none could say. Not even the Lords of the Staffclave. But some cataclysmic force had raised up one and hollowed out the other from the flat lands surrounding them both.

  A thick fog was rising off the still lake now that the rain had stopped, a mist so heavy by the time Jack had reached the tremendous stone wall encircling the mountain, he could barely see a few feet beyond Eaudreuil's nose. Fortunately, the area around the Great Gate was well lighted by numerous torches mounted along the arched tunnel leading under the wall. Unfortunately, however, their light also revealed a lowered portcullis at the far end of the passageway barring entrance into the city.

  With a flick of Eaudreuil's reigns, Jack urged the Val'anna into the tunnel and upon reaching the stout iron bars at the far end, he drew the Talon of the Hawk and began to rap sharply upon the barrier with the leather wrapped pommel of the sword. "Hey! Brythond! Anyone home?" he shouted, his voice echoing loudly inside the stone walls.

  "Stop that at once!" a voice cried out almost instantly.

  Jack ceased his hammering and presently heard footsteps approaching through the fog.

  "By order of the King. No one enters the city after nightfall," announced a silhouette appearing dimly in the mist. "Come back in the morning."

  "You are joking, right?" Jack said. "A city this big and it’s closed at sundown?”

  "Do I sound like I am joking," the silhouette repeated. "Come back in the morning." Without waiting to see if the order was understood more clearly the second time, the dimly seen speaker turned on his heels and began to walk away.

  "Hey! Wait a second!" Jack yelled, but the sound of retreating footsteps did not slow and soon disappeared into the gloom. "Come back here!" he shouted, and began to beat upon the gate with his sword once more.

  "Hold!" commanded another voice, this time deep and full of authority. A figure came striding purposely out of the gloomy night and stopped only inches from the lowered gate. Even through the thick fog Braedan could see he was dressed in the silver and black of Brydium. His polished chain-mail shirt glistened with beads of condensation, which didn't please him judging by his grim expression. Nor did the sight of Jack judging by the way he fingered the broadsword hanging at his side.

  "Listen..." Jack began, but was quickly interrupted.

  "I am the Captain of the Watch!" the man barked. "State your name and business in Brythond."

  "My name and my business are my own," Jack replied just as tersely. He wasn't happy with the fog either.

  "And it is my business," the captain answered, eyeing Jack's drawn sword, "to ask questions of anyone wishing to enter the city after dark."

  Braedan realized he'd perhaps spoken too harshly to the guardsman, but he was in no mood for questions. His shoulder ached with the memory of the grim'Hiru arrow, and he was cold, tired and hungry; while somewhere beyond this gate awaited a soft bed, a hot meal, and hopefully a mug or two of beer. There was no way in hell he was going to spend another night out on the ground! Insulting this captain however, was not likely the quickest way to gain entrance into the city. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm sorry Captain..."

  "Paeter Gisborne," the man replied curtly. "Commander of Stone Company, Seventy First Regiment of the Dragon Guards."

  "Forgive me Captain Gisborne," Jack apologized. He returned the Talon of the Hawk to its scabbard and removed his helmet before continuing. "My name is Jack Braedan. I'm tired, I'm cold, and I'm hungry. I've been weeks on the road from...the Amarian hills where I wintered recovering from wounds. All I want is a warm place to sleep and a bit of food."

  "I don't suppose there is someone in the city who can vouch for you?" Gisborne asked skeptically.

  "As a matter of fact, there is," Jack smiled, straightening in the saddle. "Do you know the Countess Thessa Arthol?"

  "And how would she possibly be acquainted with someone of your ilk?” Gisborne snorted. “Wait,” as the name finally worked its way through the fog. "Your name again please."

  "Braedan. Jack Braedan."

  "Are you saying..."

  "I am indeed saying,” he nodded.

  "What proof do you have?" the captain demanded. "Anyone could wander in and make that claim." But as the officer spoke, he began to examine Jack more closely. For the first time he seemed to notice he was seated upon a Val'anna stallion and the helmet cradled under his arm was the same style worn by the Knights of the White Horse of Doridan. Certainly not the usual mount and accouterments one would expect to find in the possession of a simple, wandering mercenary.

  "Look, Captain Gisborne," Jack sighed. "We can settle this easily enough. If you would be so kind as to escort me to the Arthol estate and let me speak to Thessa..."

  "Princess Thessa!" the captain corrected sharply.

  "So, she's married," Jack grinned. "I wish I..."

  "Yes, she is," Gisborne interrupted. "And the hour is too late to disturb the Princess if she is at her father's estate, and certainly too late to disturb her at the palace if she is not."

  "Look Gisborne," Jack said, his temper flaring again. "What do you think Princess Thessa will say tomorrow when I tell her you made her champion sleep outside the city walls like a beggar, just because it was late and you didn't want to dis
turb her?" That got his attention. "What do you think Prince Thonicil will say? Or the King?"

  "Open the gate!" the captain ordered, but the portcullis had begun to rise before the words were even out of his mouth. Apparently, the gate keepers could imagine what the king might say as well.

  "Sergeant of the Watch!" Gisborne shouted, summoning another silver and black clad warrior out of the fog.

  "Sir!"

  "Take your squad and escort this man to the Prime Minister's home and see if Princess Thessa is there."

  "Yes sir!"

  "If she is not, bring him back to me. He can sleep in the guard house tonight. I'll not be disturbing the palace at this late hour for Yh’Adan Himself."

  "Yes sir!"

  "If by some chance the princess doesn't recognize him," Gisborne finished menacingly. "Take him straight to the High Sheriff. A few days with that bastard will teach him what happens to mercenaries who lie to the Dragon Guard."

  "Yes sir!"

  Jack waited anxiously for his escort to assemble. Now that he was actually inside the city walls, excitement gripped him like a fever. He had finally made it! Brythond! Soon he would see Thessa again, but even more importantly, he would see someone vital to the successful continuation of his quest, King Theros Th'nar the Dragonslayer. If the reaction of Captain Gisborne was any indication, what he had done for the countess had not been forgotten. He had little fear now he would not be well received. In fact, after he presented the House of Th'nar their long-lost heirloom, Bin'et ardendel, the Talon of the Hawk, he imagined he could just about ask for any favor he desired.

  "Captain Gisborne?" he smiled smugly.

  "Yes?" the officer glared at him at Braedan.

  "Have a nice night."

  Gisborne turned abruptly on his heels and stalked off into the fog.

  "Ready when you are," Jack grinned, at the guardsman mounted beside him.

  "Yes sir," the sergeant replied. "Squad! At a trot! Forward!"

  As one, the escort began to ride out into the fog.

  The city of Brythond had been laid out upon the mountain in five concentric circles, with each circle surrounded by its own protective wall. Each of these walls was at least thirty feet high, nearly as thick as it was tall, and broken only by a single arched tunnel, the lone passageway from one circle to the next. These tunnels were flanked on both sides by heavily fortified guard towers, home to a company of the finest warriors of Brydium, and possessed a pair of iron portcullises at each end weighing several tons apiece. The Great Gate of the outer wall, the only entrance to the city, faced east toward the rising sun. Each gate afterward, beginning with the second circle, was located on the opposite side of the city from its predecessor. East, west, east, west, then back east again.