Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "Truly?" Jack asked lamely. Thonicil knew! There could be no doubt now. Conformation was not long in coming.

  "'By his hand the Hawk shall ascend once again to its rightful place.'" the prince continued, apparently quoting from Therolon's codex. "'When this day comes to pass, look for the exiled one in the company of lions. And by this also shall ye know him. Through a maze of deceit and treachery, he will uncover serpents infesting the Dragon's Lair.'"

  "I have been to Sennaca's smithy," the prince said abruptly. "I have seen your armor. Why do you continue to hide yourself?"

  "Who would believe me?" Jack shrugged. "I still don't believe it myself sometimes."

  "You...you do not deny it?" Thonicil whispered, taken aback Braedan had so casually confirmed what until seconds ago had been only speculation and...hope?

  "There isn't much point in that now. Is there Thonicil?" Jack sighed. With no choice remaining, he now recounted to Thonicil the true account of the Elohara and his meeting with Ljmarn. "I guess the only question remaining is what are you planning to do with your...discovery?"

  With only the briefest hesitation, the prince dropped to one knee. "My Lord," he bowed.

  "Judas Bloody...get up before someone sees you!" Braedan hissed.

  "Why should I care if someone sees, lord?" the prince asked. "I...I should be shouting this news from the top of Illroc Adar!"

  "Are you crazy?" Jack choked, and quickly pulling Thonicil to his feet. Luckily the few servants remaining in the room had been too busy clearing tables to notice their exchange. "That's the last damn thing you're going to do!"

  "But...why my lord?" the prince asked, confusion clouding his face.

  "Because..." Where could he even begin? "Thonicil? Do you...do you believe I am Ljmarn's Heir?"

  "The prophecies have spoken," the prince replied confidently. “Ljmarn himself declared it.”

  "Then you must trust me," Jack pleaded. "You must tell no one who I am. Not until..." 'Not until the last vision of the Elohara is completed,' he was about to say. Then a disturbing thought occurred to him. "You haven't...you haven't told anyone have you?"

  "Nay," the prince replied. "I have spoken to no one about what I learned at the abbey."

  "Yh’Adan be praised," Jack muttered, relief washing over him. If rumor leaked who he was...with Brythond perhaps still thick with Valarius' snakes and Kaithan's lackeys? If that happened he would be dodging assassins all the way to Immer.

  "But my lord...surely father...he must be..."

  "No," Jack interrupted firmly. "If you truly believe Thonicil, you will tell no one until I give you leave. For now, that includes the king. Soon, I promise, I will hide myself no longer."

  "Very well," the prince nodded slowly. "Though it will be hard to keep this to myself."

  "Whoever said life wasn't supposed to be hard?" Jack shrugged casually. "Now, do I have your word?"

  "Aye, Lord Hawkfinder," Thonicil nodded, albeit grudgingly.

  "Then I think maybe it's time we rejoined the others. Thessa probably has been probably been literally counting the seconds. It will be a long time before she forgives either of us if she misses her dance. I don't think we want that?"

  "No. No, we don't," Thonicil agreed, smiling slowly.

  "Then let's not keep her waiting any longer," Jack said, taking his arm. "Life might be hard, but no one said it should be impossible."

  They found Thessa waiting for them at the entrance to the ballroom. From the look on her face she definitely had been counting the seconds.

  "Forgive my tardiness," Thonicil bowed quickly, a roguish grin silencing her before she could unleash the scolding hovering on her lips. "As my penance, you shall have two dances. Damn what Maerdias says!"

  "Whatever did you say to him Jack?" Thessa smiled, delighted at her husband's sudden change.

  "Talk or dance woman!" Thonicil laughed. "Decide quickly!"

  "Dance!" came her immediate reply, and Thonicil swept his wife toward the swirling mass.

  As the revelers parted to admit the royal couple onto the dance floor, Jack spotted Baroness Natrina Caillin across the way. Seeing Gwen fully occupied by Kirk on the dance floor as well, a roguish grin slowly formed on his lips. 'Why not?' he thought. One dance couldn't hurt. It was a party after all. The baroness was certainly damned pretty.

  Part IV

  Chapter Nineteen

  Along the Elfway

  "One dance couldn't hurt." Jack muttered ruefully, and not for the first time since waking. "What the hell was I thinking?"

  It had been harmless enough at first, flirting with pretty Natrina Caillin; widowed Baroness of East Thondil, possessor of smoky eyes and ample bosom. She had a ready laugh and a sharp mind, and she felt oh so pleasantly soft dancing in his arms. The trouble however, was one innocent dance became two, then four, with a glass of wine in between each. Before he realized what had happened, he was outrageously drunk and Natrina had her arm wrapped intimately around his waist and her head snuggled on his shoulder. That he had somehow awakened in his own bed, alone and fully clothed, was nothing short of a miracle. For which Jack humbly thanked Jesus and Buddha and Krishna and all the angels in heaven, with a special aside to their earthly envoy Kirk Vanar. The thought he could just have easily have opened his eyes this morning to a delicate situation instead of just raging hangover sent a shiver down his spine.

  "What the hell had I been thinking?"

  "Did you say something Horse-brother?" Eaudreuil asked.

  "No." Jack muttered. "Now would you please stop fidgeting? I can't buckle this damned girth strap!"

  "Having trouble?" the roan inquired with an innocent nicker.

  "Yes. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't shout so."

  "Am I shouting?"

  "Please!" Jack groaned. "Is it too much to ask you hold still for one second? The leather on this new saddle is stiff." The fact he was having difficulty focusing his bloodshot eyes wasn't helping. Neither was the queasy sensation of the world seemingly having developed an unusual wobble in its orbit this morning.

  "You smell...strange Horse-brother," the stallion snorted. "And your hands seem to be shaking. Are you sure you are fit to ride?"

  "Eaudreuil..."

  "Sorry."

  "There!" Jack sighed as the buckle finally slipped into place. "Now please...for the love of God hold still." With an effort requiring all his concentration, Jack placed a booted foot in the stirrup and swung up onto the roan's broad back. His head throbbed with murderous fury at the sudden movement and his stomach rolled ominously. Eaudreuil pranced sideways a few steps, further testing his equilibrium, but he somehow remained in the saddle.

  "Perhaps you are fit to ride after all," the Val'anna admitted grudgingly. "Barely."

  "Very funny," Jack said through tightly clenched teeth. "Now can you cut out the jokes and take us to the front gate? And slowly please?"

  "Whatever you say Horse-brother," the roan beamed with unguarded amusement.

  At the entrance to the Arthol estate, Braedan found Vanar and the Lions already assembled. Count Arthol was waiting as well, and gathered behind the count was the entire household staff, come to see him off. It was Gweneveare who commanded his gaze however. The look she gave him as Eaudreuil stopped before her was cold enough to freeze the fires of Hell itself.

  "Is there a parade this morning I haven't heard about?" asked Jack as he slid from the saddle. Kirk and the Lions were outfitted in dress uniforms; blue surcoats with the Thonbor crest over Ithlemere scale-mail which was northing short of dazzling in the bright morning sun.

  "Only a small one your grace," Arthol grinned. The count was in good spirits Jack observed enviously. Surprisingly good considering he had consumed as much of Ambassador Thongril's wine as anyone at the ball.

  "Did you expect his majesty to go slipping out of Brythond like a thief?" Gweneveare asked frostily.

  "Well...just so long as there aren't any bloody trumpets," Jack muttered.

  "At least
you sobered up enough to dress properly," Gweneveare sighed, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from the new shirt he was wearing.

  "It's a wonder he could dress himself at all after last night," Kirk chuckled.

  "Did you say something?" Gweneveare asked, turning toward the captain.

  Kirk's grin vanished instantly and he suddenly seemed to remember he needed to re-check some important item in his travel pack.

  "I didn't think so."

  "Is everyone ready Kirk?" asked Jack, carefully bending over to secure his own gear and toss it behind Eaudreuil's saddle. "I'd like to be far away from Brythond when Natrina wakes up. I may have made some...promises last night which will prove difficult to keep without marrying her. I'm joking Gwen," he said quickly as she wheeled on him with a furious glare. “At least I hope so.”

  "I assure you, I am not amused," the young woman snapped.

  "We're ready, your grace," Vanar replied, trying in vain to suppress another smile.

  "Then I guess we should be on our way," Jack nodded. Gweneveare looked on the verge of doing him murder, or bursting into tears, or both. Either way it was time to apologize. "Gwen, last night....I'm sorry. My behavior was inexcusable. What can I do to make it up to you?"

  "You could by start staying in the saddle? At least until you are a goodly distance from the city," Gweneveare sighed. "Behaving as a Knight of the Realm before the Ailfar king would be nice as well."

  "A daunting challenge my Lady," Jack smiled, and despite his aching head, he bowed deeply and kissed her hand. "But I'll give it a shot. Friends again?" he asked hopefully.

  "We shall see," Gweneveare replied coolly, but tears glistening her sky-blue eyes said he had already been forgiven. "Farwell Jack Hawkfinder."

  "Thain," Jack turned to the count and offered his hand. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for your hospitality."

  "Returning my daughter was payment enough for a lifetime of boarding," Arthol replied, ignoring the hand and enfolding him in a fatherly hug. "I'll see you in about three weeks. You have my directions to the Inn of Two Fountains?" The count had been staying at the Two Fountains for the Haelfest since before Thessa was born. It would be little trouble to secure Jack and his Golden Lions a suite there as well. He'd already dispatched a nicely worded letter to Master Coreze, the inn's proprietor. Along with several Th'rakken in gold of course.

  "Right here sir," Jack nodded, patting the breast pocket in which the detailed map Thain had drawn for him rested.

  "Farwell then," the count bowed.

  "Take care sir," Jack nodded, turning to Vanar as he remounted Eaudreuil. "Kirk, give the lady a kiss, and let's be off."

  Though he pretended to make some minor adjustments to his saddle bags, Jack discreetly observed the parting between Kirk and Gweneveare. As he expected, it was not an easy one. An old saying popped into his head as he watched the pair out of the corner of his eye. 'There's a thin line between love and hate.' For Gweneveare it certainly appeared true. Only a few weeks ago the young woman would sooner have kissed a grim'Hiru than spoken to a Vanar, but now...she held Kirk as if she had little intention of ever letting him go.

  When their embrace stretched to the point of embarrassment, Jack cleared his throat. "Ummm...Kirk? I think the king is expecting us today?”"

  "Coming your grace," the captain sighed, reluctantly releasing the young woman. "I'll come back as soon as the Haelfest is over Gwen."

  "You'll come back when your lord says and not a minute sooner," Gweneveare replied. The look she gave Jack after she brushed Kirk's lips with a tender kiss however, promised if he delayed their reunion one second longer than necessary, he should consider seeking sanctuary in Elvendale.

  Kirk caressed Gwenevear's cheek with a final touch farewell, then vaulted onto Azaria's back. "Mount up Lions!" he shouted. "Cyran rides point with me! Anghol and Brian will take the rear. Erlwin, Michael and Kaegel ride with his grace!"

  Thus surrounded by his Golden Lions, Jack rode through the gate of Count Arthol's estate. As he passed beneath its stone archway, he couldn't help but think it would be a long, long time before he'd set foot here again.

  "Here my Lord," Kaegel said, passing Jack a water skin once they were beyond the walls. "Drink this."

  "What is it?" he asked suspiciously. Uncorked, the liquid inside gave off a decidedly unpleasant smell.

  "Just something Sirranon brews for hangovers," the guardsman smiled.

  "What makes you think I have a hangover?"

  "Don't you?" Kaegel inquired. "Maybe I'm remembering some other duke I helped tuck into bed last night."

  "Sirranon huh?" Jack said hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, he upended the skin, gagging on the noxious concoction. "Gaawhd...tastes like horse piss!" he snarled, handing it back to the guardsman.

  "You were only supposed to take a single swallow," Kaegel laughed. "Ah well, it won't kill you. Well, not quickly at least."

  Far from killing him, by the time the little procession reached the Circle of the King, the noxious brew had reduced Jack's headache to an imperceptible throb and his stomach no longer felt like a bag full of wrestling snakes.

  Under the shadow of Illroc Adar, they found a company of royal guardsmen in mounted formation, resplendent in their black and silver plate, the dragon banner of the King of Brydium fluttering weakly in a light breeze. As they approached, an officer dismounted and removed his helm.

  "Duke Jack Hawkfinder?" he asked as Braedan swung from the saddle and walked toward him.

  "Guilty as charged Captain...?"

  "du'Gail." the man replied, extending a mail encased hand. He was probably somewhere in his late thirties, with dark hair and hard blue eyes. A white, puckered scar ran horizontally across a chin surely carved from granite. "Marten du'Gail. Knight Captain of the King's 1st Horse."

  Jack accepted the firm handshake with a smile. "Captain du'Gail, allow me to present Kirk Vanar, Captain of the Golden Lions of Thonbor."

  "Captain," du'Gail nodded. "Congratulations on your swift rise through the ranks. Knowing Brand, I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see his brother promoted from sergeant to captain in only a month."

  "Thank you, captain," Kirk bowed. "It is an honor to finally meet you. Brand always spoke of you with highest regard."

  "He was one of Second Squadron's finest officers and a knight good and true. He is sorely missed by all Dragons." du’Gail said sadly.

  "I hope one day to be judged half the warrior my brother was sir," Kirk nodded solemnly.

  "Please," du'Gail said, smiling for the first time. "Call me Marten. We are equals now, though I suspect I might have a pair of boots almost as old as you."

  "Very well...Marten." Kirk nodded, returning his smile.

  "Captain du'Gail?" Jack interrupted suddenly. "I don't mean to intrude...but is that the king's mount yonder?" he asked, pointing to a large, black warhorse being led forward by a pair of nervous grooms.

  "It is indeed," du'Gail nodded. "His name is Valkyr. Careful your grace!" the captain cried with alarm as Jack casually took the stallion's reigns from the grooms. "Valkyr is...ill-tempered with those he does not know!"

  "Spirited would be a better word," Jack grinned, stroking the animal's midnight flank appreciatively. "Right boy?" He reached out tentatively to the stallion’s mind and Valkyr quivered with excitement. "There is Val'anna blood in his line," he observed happily, his mind filling with Valkyr's rush of child-like, jumbled questions. "Strong blood."

  "Him?" Eaudreuil snorted derisively. "He cannot even speak properly."

  "Then you'll just have to teach him," Jack admonished the proud stallion with a smile. "And you'll mind your manners while you do it. Valkyr could well be your cousin."

  "Blood and Fire!" Captain du'Gail whispered in astonishment. "You can flaming Mindspeak! I'd heard rumors, but...a pity his majesty made you a duke," the officer sighed. "I could sure use a man with your...gift in the 1st Horse. You wouldn't consider abdicating your title and becoming squadron
horse-master, would you your grace?"

  "I don't think his majesty wouldn't sit for that," Jack grinned. "Speaking of the king." Valkyr picked up his ears and began to paw at the ground expectantly. A second later the doors to the palace swung ponderously open and Theros appeared, the Highsword Dragonslayer on his left hip and Elyanor on his arm. Following the king and queen were Thonicil and Thessa. A step behind walked Sir Baden Th'erael, the Baron of Athniel and newly appointed Chief Steward of Brydium.

  "CUMP-nay! Uhh-TEN-shun!" Captain du'Gail bellowed, snapping a crisp salute to his liege.

  "Good morning Marten," Theros replied, returning the salute, though with his wife on his arm the honor was rendered a bit less professionally. "Good morning your grace."

  "Good morning sire," Jack bowed. "Queen Elyanor."

  "Jack," the queen smiled. "We are pleased to see you survived last night's festivities. And with no promise ring on your finger? Natrina's...charms must be somewhat less than court gossip reports."

  "Thankfully, my Lady," Jack blushed. "I am not in position to judge the quality of the baroness'...charms this morning. It is my hope to be well away from Brythond before she has another opportunity."

  "Yh be praised," Theros grinned. "If I'd wanted that minx to have Thonbor, I would have given it to her directly. Are the men ready to ride Marten?"

  "They are sire," the Dragon captain bowed.

  "Excellent," the king replied. "Mind the house dear," he said turning to kiss his queen affectionately on the cheek. "I'll see you in Immer in three weeks."

  "Give my regards to Cilidon and Aydera," she smiled.

  "I will. Be careful of Hawthorne. The snake may have withdrawn his fangs for now, but I trust him about as far as I could throw a mountain trull. Sir Baden, the queen is my voice until I return. Try and keep Ian out of trouble," he sighed. "I know the last is a tall order, but do the best you can."

  "I shall try sire," Baden Thanael, his new steward bowed.

  "Come along Jack," Theros said, taking Valkyr's reigns. "We'll be half the morning riding through the city and I want to make Naman's Crossing by sunset."