Path of Kings

by James Dale

  Could it be? Did Annawyn remember him as something more than a condemned pirate? His memories of the princess; her perfect face, the way the light had danced off her auburn hair the first time he'd seen her, the faint echoes of her musical voice, the unforgettable recollection of the one brief taste of her lips, were all that had enabled him to endure the evil darkness beneath the Iron Tower of Gorthiel. Those memories were what had sustained him through the hard months of recovery in the Cil’lena's cave. Thoughts of the beautiful Doridanian princess were all that kept him on the long, arduous road which lay ahead of him. It was not honor, or duty, or responsibility kept him on this path, but the simple knowledge that completing this quest and taking up Yhswyndyr was the only way to keep her from harm. Was it really possible she had similar feelings for him?

  "Don't...please don't play with me Thessa," Jack said, his heart racing.

  "I assure you, this is no jest," Thessa replied, becoming serious when she saw the intense longing on his face.

  "Are you saying that...that," Jack couldn't bring himself to say it. That Anna might actually feel something for him, seemed too impossible to be true.

  "Yes, my champion," Thessa smiled, squeezing his arm. "That is exactly what I am saying. You have stolen her heart as she has so obviously stolen yours. Yet," she sighed. "Annawyn will soon wed another, though she does not love him. King Ellgenn grows near to setting a date for her marriage to Duke Kiathan. I fear it will not be long after the Haelfest."

  "She is not going to be marrying Kiathan!" Jack replied, almost snarling with vehemence. "After the bloody Haelfest or any other time."

  "You cannot prevent it," Thessa sighed. "Though she covets your touch and not the duke's, she must still wed him. It is her duty, and sadly royalty are often forced to sacrifice love for the good of the crown. Oh, I’m so sorry Jack! King Theros will likely make you a baron tomorrow at least. With a title and such riches you could have pressed your suit save for her engagement to the Duke of Raashan."

  "I won't need a title or money to keep Kiathan from her," 'Not after the Kings of the Whesguard learn he is a traitor,' Jack thought to himself with a grim smile. Even if he didn't kill the bastard first, Kiathan wouldn't live long enough to marry Annawyn. Duke Morgan would see to it surely.

  "What do you mean? Have you a plan? It has something do with the Haelfest!" Thessa suddenly guessed, seeing the fierce light burning in his eyes. "Tell me! Tell me so I may write Annawyn and say there is hope!"

  "No," Jack sighed.

  "But...why?" Thessa asked. "If she hears..."

  "If she hears I will be at Immer for Ljmarn Haelfest," he interrupted, "Kiathan will also hear it. And I doubt he will sit calmly by and while I disrupt his wedding plans." Or any of his other plans! Jack suddenly realized. The traitor duke may already have learned from Nalon-Lox or Galen Severa he was the heir to Yhswyndyr and not merely some troublesome pirate. "No. I'm sorry Thessa. You can't tell her anything."

  "But she will undoubtedly hear of your arrival!" Thessa argued. "As will Duke Kiathan. News of your appearance in Brythond will likely reach the Doridanian Embassy tomorrow. It will only be a matter of time before word reaches Dorshev and Kiathan. Many of tonight's guests also heard you tell father of your plans to leave Brythond when it is time for Ljmarn Haelfest. That bit of news will also reach his ears."

  She had a point. Word was sure to get back to Kiathan he had re-surfaced. He was only fooling himself if he thought he could slip into Immer now and enter the Competition of the Sword unnoticed. Why not let Thessa send a message to Annawyn? If she really did care...if she really did love him as Thessa claimed, perhaps she could help. Maybe she could...No! If Kiathan intercepted such a message, he might feel threatened enough to move against her. The risk was just too great. There could be no letter to the Princess of Doridan. "No." Jack sighed again. "The risk is too great. You may tell her I am a live, and I remember her…fondly, but nothing about my plans beyond settling in Brythond and staying as far away from Kiathan as possible."

  "But..."

  "You'll just have to trust me on this Thessa. You'll learn soon enough why it is necessary." You will learn things that will freeze your soul, Jack thought sadly.

  "I do not understand," she replied slowly, "but I will trust your judgment my champion."

  As they walked on in silence up to the third floor, servants soon began to appear, hurrying on their way to ready the suite where Jack would be staying. Only a few were daring enough to acknowledge their presence in the hallway, and they paused in passing only long enough to bow briefly to Thessa and venture a quick glance at Braedan before moving on. Presently they came upon a flurry of activity centering on a pair of doors at the extreme end of the upper hall.

  "Here we are," Thessa announced and all activity ceased. Maids and stewards immediately stopped what they were doing as she ushered him in, bowing deeply to the princess. Several cast a curious eye at her escort, eager for a look at their mistress' savior. It did not escape Thessa's notice, but she suffered the small indiscretion with an amused smile. "Come!" she laughed. "You can gawk later. He is weary and needs a bath before retiring. Gweneveare!"

  A tall young woman appeared before them as if by magic. Like many of her Brydianic sisters, she had been graced with raven black hair and eyes as blue as the winter sky. She was at least a foot taller than her mistress, and where Thessa was petite and shapely, Gweneveare was full bodied, with the sultry form of some Greek fertility goddess. She was perhaps a year or two older than Thessa and though only a servant, without the benefit of a regal wardrobe and the perfumed pampering her mistress enjoyed, she was a great beauty. "Yes mistress?" she curtsied.

  "Draw Sir Jack a bath," Thessa instructed her, already addressing her champion by the title she expected the king to grant him tomorrow. "And fetch him some of Prince Thonicil's night clothes from my room as well."

  "And a razor?" Jack asked hopefully, pulling at the thick beard he'd acquired over the winter.

  "Most definitely a razor!" the princess laughed. "And in the morning," she continued, reaching up to touch his hair which had also become quite shaggy over the last months, "You can expect a haircut as well."

  "Yes mistress," Gweneveare curtsied again, hurrying off to complete her task. Before she disappeared through an open door leading into another section of the suite however, she turned to flash a dazzling smile at Braedan.

  "Gwen is Nicholas' daughter." Thessa informed him fondly. "If you should need anything while you are here and he cannot be found, she will attend you."

  Jack acknowledged the statement with a nod, but mentally promised to always know the whereabouts of the old valet. With the smile she had given him and her looks it would certainly keep things from becoming complicated while he was here.

  "I shall now keep the promise father forced upon me and bid you a good night," Thessa smiled, then not caring there were servants present, she hugged Jack fiercely. "I am glad you are here my champion. Truly I am."

  "I'm glad to," Jack smiled, kissing the young woman on the top of her head. "Now, you get on back to your husband before he decides I'm trying to steal you away from him. I'm afraid he doesn't like me very much."

  "That will change," Thessa assured him. "When he comes to know you as I do, he will accept the place you hold in my heart and shall grow to become a great friend."

  "I hope so," Jack sighed. Sometime in the near future, he would likely need Prince Thonicil and the Talon of the Hawk to stand beside him against the forces awakening in the east. It would be better if they could do so as friends.

  "I shall have it no other way," Thessa insisted. "Is that clear?"

  "Clear as crystal," Jack laughed.

  "Good night my champion." Thessa smiled.

  "Good night my princess."

  "Come along everyone!" she said herding the servants toward the door. They quickly finished the last of their tasks and hurried from the room. When the last of them had departed, the princess blew Jack a kiss and c
losed the door behind her.

  Alone now, Braedan turned to inspect the suite Count Arthol had chosen for him. He was in a sitting room of some sort, containing several comfortable looking chairs. There was a long, rectangular table just to his right, filled with a variety of fresh fruits, breads and waxed cheeses. To his left was a huge stone fireplace where some servant had built a merry little blaze, and along the far wall there was a bookcase overflowing with volumes of all shapes and sizes.

  Jack picked up a bright red apple and walked over to the bookcase, pleased to discover many of the volumes were written in the common tongue of the west. He quickly found several which piqued his interest; The Art of War, written by Theros Th'nar, A History of the First Age, written by some Count with an unpronounceable name, and a book entitled The High Kings of Aralon, penned by none other than Ljmarn Bra'Adan himself. Surely required reading while he was here. Selecting a volume at random, The Rise and Fall of the House Iculdia, he took a bite of the apple and headed for the door against the far wall.

  Jack smiled with pleasure when he entered the room and discovered an enormous feather bed. He had not slept in anything so large and inviting since his brief stay at the estate of Admiral Kailmax on Brimcohn. Since that night, nearly nine months removed, it had either been a bunk on a ship, a prison cot, furs spread out upon the ground, or as was often the case, nothing at all. It would certainly be a much-welcomed change. He tossed the book on the bed, sat down on the edge and began to pull off his boots. From the open door across the way, Braedan could hear the sound of running water, another luxury he'd not experienced in quite some time, and smiled with delight.

  He tossed his boots toward an open door he hoped was a closet, then stood and quickly began to remove the rest of his clothing. His shirt, trousers and small clothes all went into a pile on the floor, then barefoot and naked, he made his way into the bathroom. It was truly spectacular, all white and gray tile, with a cedar bench along the far wall and hooks for hanging clothes. There was a vanity with a large glass mirror, several shelves lined with soft cotton towels, oils, soaps, and all manner of different toilet articles. The most inviting feature by far however was a tremendous sunken tub nearly big enough to do laps in. It was nearly three-quarters full of steaming water and still being fed by a polished silver faucet extending up from the tiled floor. The water shut of even as he watched, controlled most likely by some sort of flotation valve. Jack tested the water with his foot and sighed with satisfaction.

  "Does the temperature suit you Sir Jack?" a voice suddenly asked from behind him.

  Braedan whirled, instinctively reaching to his hip for the sword which was no longer there, and lost his balance on the edge of the tub. He fell in the water with a splash.

  "Sir Jack!" Gweneveare cried rushing to the tub's edge. "Are you injured?"

  "Judas bloody...you scared the hell out of me!" Jack sputtered, shaking water from his eyes. Where the hell had she come from? And what was she doing in here?

  After realizing he had not hurt himself, the young woman could not suppress the laugh suddenly bursting from her lips. The day they'd heard the news of Braedan's escape from Dorshev, every member of Count Arthol's household staff had been begun preparing for his eventual arrival in Brythond. When word spread throughout the estate this evening that the handsome, dashing hero they'd all been anxiously awaiting had finally arrived, frantic activity had erupted in every quarter. Caught by surprise, everyone was suddenly rushing to and fro, Gweneveare included, until nervous tension permeated the air like static electricity. Now, seeing the princess' champion in such a compromising position, well...it was more than the young woman could handle.

  "I am sorry," she said, placing both hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to contain her laughter. "I did not mean to startle you. Are you injured?"

  "Just my ass...aahh...pride," Jack muttered, eliciting another fit of laughter from the young woman. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, when her spell subsided.

  "I am sorry," Gweneveare apologized again. "I have brought you night clothes and the razor you requested."

  "Just put them on the bench please."

  "Would you not like me to shave you while you bath?" she asked.

  Jack had a sudden vision of this beautiful young woman brazenly shedding her clothing to climb naked into the tub with him, of leaning back between her long, supple legs and resting his head against the silky smoothness of her belly as she slowly lathered his face.

  "I don't...I don't think it would be good idea," he stammered, feeling himself begin to stir beneath the warm water.

  "Sir Jack!" Gweneveare cried, blushing as if she could read his thoughts.

  Now it was his turn to apologize.

  "I'm sorry Gweneveare," he pleaded. "I didn't mean it like that. Really. I'm...it's just...Judas Bloody Hell!"

  "I understand," she replied demurely. "You have journeyed long, through hard and dangerous lands. It is only natural for a warrior such as yourself to desire such...comfort after the trials of the wilderness. Any man would. Even a man in love with the Princess of Doridan."

  "How do you..." Jack began. Did everyone in Brythond know his innermost secrets?

  "Princess Thessa of course!" Gweneveare laughed. "She has been my mistress since we were small children. She is my closest friend, though she is the daughter of a count and wife of a prince and I am lowly daughter of a valet. She hides nothing from me nor I from her. That is how I know you are in love with Princess Annawyn."

  "I still don't understand," Jack sighed, slowly shaking his head. "I didn't even know until...it was a month at least after I left Dorshev."

  "Who but a man in love would dare to brazenly kiss the Princess of Doridan?" Gweneveare asked. "In full view of her Uncle Morgan and an armed escort! Only a man in love or a fool. And from what I have heard of you, you are no fool Jack Braedan."

  "Why is it every conversation I've had tonight has ended up being about Annawyn?" Jack sighed.

  "Because you are a man in love," Gweneveare smiled. "And because you are a man in love, I shall tempt you no longer. Though my offer to shave you was made in all innocence, I must confess I may...perhaps have imagined something more. Here is your razor," she said, laying a familiar style folding straight razor on the edge of the tub. "I shall leave the night clothes on the bench as requested."

  "Thank you," Jack sighed in relief. "And about...well... telling Thessa everything? They were just...fleeting thoughts."

  "I shall say nothing," the young woman smiled. "However," she continued with a furtive glance into the steaming water. "You are far from....unhandsome. It would be wise while you are in Brythond to harness even your most...fleeting thoughts and concentrate only on your true love. You will encounter many women in the court of King Theros, who if they should learn where your heart lies, will think it a great challenge to try and turn your heart away from such a beauty as Annawyn of Doridan."

  "I'll certainly try," Jack grinned. "Good night Gwen."

  "Good night Sir Jack," she replied. "Take care you do not fall asleep in your bath." Gweneveare seemed to hesitate for an instant and Braedan thought he heard the barest sigh escape her lips, then the raven-haired beauty rose quickly and exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

  "I wonder which one of these faucets work the cold water?" Jack muttered. He was only human.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gifts of the Dragonslayer

  "Do you intend to sleep the entire day?"

  The accusatory tone of the voice startled Jack from a sound sleep. After last night's long, luxurious bath he'd trimmed his beard to a more respectable length, dressed himself in his borrowed night clothes and crawled between the soft sheets of canopy bed. He had fallen instantly asleep and had not even rolled over until just now. The room was bright, not with the soft light of morning but with the warm healthy glow of a day quickly growing towards noon.

  "What time is it?" Jack mumbled, then it dawned on him someone else was in his
room and he sat up quickly.

  It was Gweneveare of course. Once again, Braedan was struck by the young woman’s beauty. She was dressed this morning in a simple cut, burgundy dress which clung to her pleasingly in all the right places. Her raven black, shoulder length hair had been brushed until it shimmered like moonlight as it cascaded over her right shoulder. She smiled in pleasure at his appreciative gaze and Jack looked quickly out the window trying to gauge the hour.

  "What time is it?" he asked again. "And didn't I lock my door last night?"

  "You certainly did!" Gweneveare huffed. "Young Marcus pounded on it until his knuckles were near to bleeding trying to wake you. I was forced to get the keys from father before the poor boy maimed himself. I do not know how pirates are accustomed keeping appointments, but in House of Arthol we do not keep the Dragonslayer waiting. Not even if we are the legendary Jack Hawkfinder."

  "The legendary who?" he asked, throwing off his covers and springing to his feet.

  “Jack Hawkfinder? Because you…”

  “I get it,” he nodded. “Not the worst thing I’ve ever been called. Where are my clothes?"

  "Peace," Gweneveare laughed. "It is still an hour until your audience with the king. You will not find your clothes where they were so carelessly discarded," she added as he began to search at the foot of the bed. "I threw them out."

  "You did what?" Jack said with a raised eyebrow.

  "They were not fit for the palace," she explained. "A more suitable wardrobe is being acquired for you."

  "But..."

  "I will not have my mistress' champion appearing before the King of Brydium dressed like some unwashed mercenary," the young woman said, her volcanic blue eyes flashing dangerously.

  "Okay!" Jack relented, throwing up his hands in defeat. "Just don't expect me to go prancing around in tights and a frilly shirt like some fruit cake at Cinderella's Ball."

  "Cinderella?"

  "Never mind. Do I have time for another bath?"

  "A short one perhaps," Gweneveare considered thoughtfully, "I must trim your hair yet and instruct you on court etiquette."