Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Graith, son of Halbar," Thain Arthol said quietly.

  "Exactly," the young prince of Annoth nodded. "Can he really be...alive? No one in Aralon doubts the power of the Bloodstone, but he threw himself into Mount Sheol. Eight hundred years ago! I ask again, can he really be alive?"

  "I have been to Agash Thugar," Jack replied quietly. "I know he is alive. Perhaps still weak yet, but alive."

  "Dragonslayer also knows the Bloodstone has a master again," Theros added quietly. “Even if it not Graith but someone else who has found that evil talisman? Someone like Galen Severa, or this new wizard Nalon-Lox. Whomever may wield it now, without an Heir of Ljmarn Bra’Adan to take up Yhswyndyr to confront them, what hope do we have against a resurrected Iron Tower?"

  "Oh, it's Graith all right," Jack repeated. "Both Severa and Nalon-Lox spoke of the dark King alive. Still asleep to be sure, but alive. Nevertheless, there's hope still as well."

  "Without an heir?" Kaerstin asked.

  "There is an heir to claim Yhswyndyr." Jack stated confidently. "At the right time...I am sure he will..."

  "The Prophecies of Aaracus!" Prince Thonicil cried with sudden understanding. "Of Course!" He rose from his seat, heading for the door and the main library of the palace.

  "There is no need," Theros said. "It is here." Reaching into the center drawer of his desk, the king removed a slim, leather bound volume, crackled with age. "I have been studying it much of late, since Dragonslayer began its cry of warning. Though I must confess, I have found little to shed new light on the whereabouts of Ljmarn's heir. Yet I have always been more warrior than scholar. Perhaps you and Jack may decipher some meaning from its passages where I have failed. That is why you wished to see it, is it not?" Theros asked Braedan, laying the ancient book on his desk.

  "Yes sir," Jack replied. Though his need to see the book was no longer as great as it had been when he'd first begun his journey to Brythond, when he'd still unaware of his heritage, Braedan did not doubt the prophecies of Aaracus would be of great help to him. "Though my search hasn't been going on as long as the Lords of the Staffclave, I've also been...looking for the truth behind Ljmarn's heir."

  "Then it is settled," King Theros said. "Your task in this matter will be to research the Prophecies of Aaracus with Thonicil. Together you may find some hidden clue which may lead us to the High King's heir."

  "As you wish my Lord," Jack nodded.

  "First however, I advise you to find Valarius and bid him take you to the palace armory. I fear sharpening your skills with a blade will be of greater help to Brydium than reading cryptic passages from a book which has confounded scholars for centuries."

  "As you wish," Jack said again, which were exactly his thoughts.

  "Field Marshal Tolkaen?"

  "My Lord?"

  "Gather the legion commanders and brief them on what we have just learned," Theros instructed his general. "Also, ready another patrol, a battalion this time, and send to the River Whesguard. If Graith is still weak as Duke Jack says, I do not think war with the east will come for some time yet. But I do not want to be caught unawares. Although Jack Hawkfinder was an honored guest among the Kadinar, at the moment rest of us are still technically enemies."

  The old campaigner saluted sharply and left the room.

  "Thain," Theros continued, turning to the count. "Inventory of the city's food stores. I want to know our reserves stand in case this comes upon us sooner than I expect."

  "Yes your majesty," replied his Prime Minister.

  "Ambassador Thongril?"

  "Sire?"

  "Find out who we can trust at the Doridanian embassy. I realize most will be Kiathan's men, but I want to know where their loyalties lie. To Doridan or to the Duke of Raashan. And do be careful please," Theros smiled. "I don't want our relations with Dorshev damaged beyond repair."

  "Understood sire," Thongril grinned. "I will handle this with my usual discretion."

  "That's what I'm afraid of Ian," the king sighed.

  Thongril bowed deeply to the king. Before he departed be gave Jack a consoling look clearly implying him he'd missed his chance to escape.

  "Prince Kaerstin?"

  "Your Majesty?" the Annothian replied.

  "Would you stay a few more days and join us for council? Annoth should be represented on what we must discuss."

  "Certainly, your majesty," the prince nodded.

  "Thonicil, fetch your mother," Theros instructed his son. "There are traitors in our midst. We must ferret them out or at the least decide how to avoid their plots."

  "Yes father."

  "Jack Braedan," the king of Brydium said, moving from behind his desk to clasp his hand. "Again, we are in your debt. That you escaped from the heart of darkness to warn the west of the coming storm places you in the company of the greatest heroes of the age. Future generations will sing of thy bravery."

  "All I did was stay alive," Jack replied softly. "If anyone should be considered heroes, it should Maelcain of the Jahrkirin and Tarsus Aernin."

  "I know there has been advice against it," the king said, laying a hand on Braedan’s shoulder, “but I will pen a discrete letter to Duke Morgan about what you have told us this morning. He must be warned, Doridan must be warned, of Kiathan’s true nature.

  “Have no fear for Annawyn,” Theros said, seeing the look of concern plainly visible on Jack’s face. “I have known Morgan Ellgereth longer than you have been alive. He will see to her safety, and to the security of the Ivory Throne. Now, if you wish to help your princess, go find yourself a sword. And pick a good one. Before this matter is settled, I fear you will have need of a sharp one."

  Jack left the king of Brydium and went in search of Valarius. He soon found the Chief Steward of the House of Th'nar ushering the last of the guests from the dining hall and when he was free pulled him aside and informed him of Theros' instructions.

  "Of course, Your Grace," the man smiled. "Come with me."

  Valarius led Braedan back the way he had come, through the center of the palace and beyond the Dragon's Fang, finally exiting the rear of the citadel where they came to a large court- yard extending to the outer wall of the Circle of the King. There, nestled against the far wall, was a large building where several members of the Dragon Guard were gathered, stripped down to the waist and sweating in the early afternoon sun as they practiced their sword play.

  To Jack's surprise, some of the men looked familiar and he soon realized one was Kirk Vanar, the sergeant of his escort to Count Arthol's estate the night before. He called out to him and Vanar disengaged himself him his opponent, but the young man did not recognize Jack without his long hair and beard until he introduced himself.

  "Well met," the young man smiled warmly and extended his hand. "What are you doing here? And in uniform? Have you decided to join the Dragon Guard?"

  "The new Lord Thonbor is here to select a sword from the palace armory," Valarius answered haughtily. "To replace the Talon of the Hawk."

  "We had heard rumors but..." Vanar said, then bowed quickly, "Forgive me...your grace."

  "Don't worry about it," Jack smiled. "And don't call me your grace, please."

  "But your grace..." Valarius cried, shocked he would so quickly brush aside the title the king had so graciously bestowed upon him but a short while ago.

  "Is this the palace armory?" Jack asked the steward.

  "Yes, your grace," Valarius answered.

  "Thank you for your assistance Valarius." He dismissed the man with a wave. "Sergeant Vanar was a great help to me last night, I sure he can help me so simple of a task as selecting a sword? King Theros has given me the pick of any in the armory."

  "I would be honored your..."

  "No," Jack stopped him with a raised finger.

  "What would you have me call you...sir?" Vanar asked.

  "I would prefer Jack," he smiled. "If you feel absolutely compelled to use some form of rank, Sergeant Major will do. At least it's one I've earned. Well...I think
."

  "But...but..." Valarius stammered.

  "That will be all Valarius," Jack repeated.

  The Steward spun about on his heels and stalked off angrily, but not before Braedan heard him muttered something about uncouth mercenaries not worthy of Duke Lyonnel's title and lands. Jack watched him go with the ghost of a smile on his lips, then turned to find Vanar was smiling as well.

  "I've never liked that man," the sergeant confided. "So, you are here for a sword, are you?"

  "Yes I am."

  "Well you've certainly come to the right place Sir Jack. Follow me." Vanar took Jack by the arm and guided him to the center entrance of the building, waking an old armorer sitting behind the locked screen door. When Vanar explained who Braedan was and what the new Duke of Thonbor required, the bored soldier leaned forward in his chair and eyed Jack skeptically for a moment, then lifted the security latch and waved them through with a disinterested grunt.

  Braedan followed Sergeant Vanar down a short hallway ending at a vast room filled with every edged weapon of war imaginable. There was rack after rack of swords of all types; cavalry sabers, light fencing rapiers, huge two-handed claymores surely too heavy for a man to even lift, much less use in a fight. There was a large selection of broad bladed short swords, even the odd scimitar or two, as well as halberds, jousting lances and several wicked looking battle axes.

  "How about this one?" Vanar asked, selecting a blade with so many jewels in its hilt it seemed to be on fire. It was surely worth more than all the rest of the cutlery in the room combined.

  "Very pretty!" Jack laughed. "But I'd be too busy to fighting robbers every time I step outside." He looked around for a minute then chose a slender, double edged broadsword with a leather and wire wrapped handle and a polished cross-hilt stamped with the insignia of the Dragon Guard. It was identical in every way to the sword Sergeant Vanar wore at his hip. "This is a fighting man's sword."

  Judging from the huge grin on the sergeant's face, he'd made the right choice. "That's an enlisted man's sword sir," Vanar said, taking it from him. "A fine weapon to be sure, but probably not what the King Theros had in mind. Wait here. I'll be right back."

  Vanar replaced the sword in its rack and hurried off to the far side of the room. He quickly chose and discarded several weapons, then returned with a blade similar to the one Jack had originally chosen, save the cross-hilt was fashioned from Ithlemere and sported a dragon’s claw clutching a gleaming onyx stone as its pommel. "This is a sword worthy of the new Duke of Thonbor and the Champion of Princess Thessa. Here. Feel its weight."

  When Vanar handed the blade over to him, Jack smiled with satisfaction. The sword was light, but he definitely knew he held a weapon in his hand. He rolled his wrist sending the blade into a flashing blur of figure eights and his smile broadened. It felt like an extension of his arm.

  "Do you like it?" Sergeant Vanar asked.

  "This will do nicely," Jack grinned.

  "Would you ummm...care to try it out?"

  Jack's grin widened.

  "Thoran!" Vanar cried, guiding Jack back to the armory's entrance. "A practice sheath for the Lord Thonbor."

  The old armorer glanced at the sword in Jack's hand, reached into a wooden crate beside his chair and pulled out a thin metal covering, like channeling, to cover the edges of his sword. He took the weapon from Jack and slid the channeling over its blade, locking it in place, then handed it back hilt first. "Here," he opened another crate he'd been using for a foot rest and pulled out a pair of quilted gambesons and tossed them to the two men. "You'll be needing these as well. Young Vaellan got his ribs busted yesterday and Captain Gisborne chewed me out because of it. I'll not be wanting the same treatment today because his dukeness does the same."

  Sergeant Vanar scowled at the heavy shirt in his hands as if it were an insult to his swords-manship. "Blood and Fire but these things make me sweat. Can't you look the other way just this once?"

  "Not a chance," the old armorer muttered. "I got me a first-class hangover this morning and I don't need any of Gisborne's mouth. Now if that's all you'll be needing, run along and leave me to my nap." With than Thoran propped his feet up, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes once more.

  "Come on Sir Jack," Vanar muttered. "When he's hung over like this there's just no arguing with him."

  They left the old armorer to sleep off his hangover and went back out to the courtyard, where they found the other guardsmen who'd been practicing with Vanar milling about, apparently waiting for their sergeant to return.

  "Duke Jack, this is my squad," Vanar grinned, introducing the men in order. "Cyran, Anghol, Brian, Michael, Kaegel, and Erlwin. Lads, you remember Jack Braedan? He’s all cleaned up now and with a duchy to boot." There were hasty salutes and handshakes all around. "Cyran, help the new Lord of Thonbor with his gambeson, will you? He's going to have a bit of practice with us this morning."

  The young soldier took Jacks's new sword and handed it to one of his nearby companions, then assisted him in removing his tunic and donning the heavily padded gambeson. It was rough and itchy compared to the silk he had been wearing, but Jack knew he would likely be glad he wore it shortly. He was woefully out of shape and his skills rusty from long disuse, while Vanar was certain to be anything but. The young guardsman returned his blade with a grin that seemed to confirm his suspicions then stepped quickly out of the way.

  "Whenever you are ready your grace," Sergeant Vanar saluted confidently.

  It certainly wasn't a good sign.

  Jack tugged at the collar of his gambeson, which suddenly felt too much too heavy. This didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. He felt sluggish and bloated from the tremendous feast, like a bear fresh from gorging itself before winter hibernation. He was still tired from the three weeks of hard travel to Brythond and if the truth be known, his legs had not totally recovered their strength from the injuries he'd suffered in the Margalags. Nevertheless, he found himself returning Sergeant Vanar's salute with his new sword and raising it to the high left guard position.

  With that the two men began to slowly circle, measuring each other. The guardsman struck first, a tentative, halfhearted overhand stroke a child could have parried. Jack did with little difficulty, for the blow was merely meant to break the ice. The ringing of steel in his ears however, caused his weariness and apprehension to lessen. It felt good to be swinging a sword again. Every-thing still worked; his reflexes were a bit slow, but passable. The old familiar feeling of quiet confidence began to fill him and a smile slowly formed on his lips.

  After a flurry of strokes aimed at the guardsman's legs and lower body, Jack feinted a thrust at his groin. Vanar brought his blade down, intending to block the attack with a tight circular parry, but Jack snapped his wrist back, bringing his up until its hilt was at eye level, then thrust it forward at Vanar's heart as swiftly as a striking cobra. The sergeant's blade shot upward to meet it, but not before Braedan had scored on the thick padding of his gambeson.

  "Point," Vanar conceded, breathing heavily. "Shall we say, best two out of three?"

  "I think I’m done for the day," replied Jack with a grin, taking a step back and saluting. "You're tired from your watch and I'm still not fully recovered from my journey to Brythond."

  "If you are not in top form now," the sergeant said respectfully, "I doubt anything as simple as a few hours’ sleep would help me."

  "Now there's an idea," Jack laughed wearily, planting his sword in the ground and resting on the blade.

  "I've an even better one," Vanar replied. "What say you to a mug of ale? That is...if the Lord Thonbor has some time to spare for a drink with a common guardsman?"

  "I would be honored to have a drink with you," Jack informed the guardsman, whom he suspected was anything but common. "But I'm afraid this duke doesn't have the funds to match his fancy new title. Everything I own you see here,” Jack said with a sweeping bow.

  "Teach me a few of those moves and you will never need
to worry about buying ale again!" Vanar offered. "Not as long as I'm around."

  "How could I possibly refuse such an offer?" Jack grinned. "But wouldn't you like to get some rest first?"

  "I've no duties again for two full days," the sergeant replied happily. "I'll pass up a few hours’ sleep for a chance to hoist a few with Jack Hawkfinder, the princess' champion!"

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Dancing Unicorn

  Sergeant Vanar dismissed his squad and the two men retired to a cistern at the center of the courtyard where they stripped down to the waist and washed off the sweat their duel had produced. Afterwards, they returned their gambesons and practice sheaths to the armory and Thoran, apparently in a better mood with his hangover subsiding, produced beautifully crafted, black leather scabbard for Jack’s new sword. Vanar also managed to locate a pair of crossed sabers to mark him as a Legion Commander.

  "There," the sergeant grinned, pinning the rank on Braedan's uniform. "With those on you collar you can get a free drink in most any tavern in Brydium. You can also requisition us mounts so we do not have to walk halfway across the city to a descent tavern."

  Vanar led Jack across the courtyard to the palace stables, whereupon convincing the chief groom the Commander had urgent need of a pair of swift horses, the sergeant signed for two of the Dragon Guard's courier stallions. With a grin and a wink, Vanar scribbled an illegible signature on the log and two beautiful black geldings were quickly saddled and brought out for them.

  "Rank hath its privileges," Vanar whispered. "Well...your rank anyway." Then the two men mounted and were on their way.

  Once the pair passed beyond the palace gates, Jack finally received his first good look at the mountain city of Brythond. Fifteen hundred feet above the surrounding plains, King Theros' entire domain lay before him in panoramic splendor. He was able to view the each of the circles as they descended, level by level, down to the base of the mountain on which the capital of Brydium rested; the well-manicured estates of the Circle of Nobles, the closely spaced apartments and houses of the Circle of Citizens, down to the lower two circles were the lifeblood of the realm pulsed in bustling activity. To the south, the Norway Fields stretched out in the distance like a green blanket upon the earth and beyond them, barely visible on the horizon, the fertile Midland Plains rolled on endlessly toward the Amarian Hills three hundred leagues distant. To the north the Blue Lake sparkled like a sea of diamonds in the bright afternoon sun.