Path of Kings

by James Dale

  The city of the High King was much like Dorshev and Brythond at first sight. High white stone walls, cobblestone streets, and the same shops and taverns and busy crowds. The one great difference between it and the other two seats of royalty was how remarkably clean and tidy the city was. That and the fact every person in sight, from the smallest child to the oldest grandfather, wore somewhere on their person an article of blue clothing, be it a sash, or armband, or cloak, of the identical color as he had chosen for his armor. When he questioned Kirk about this curious custom, the captain simply shrugged.

  "It's the High King's color. Worn in honor of Ljmarn Haelfest."

  When Jack heard this, they stopped at the next street vendor they came upon which sold such wares and he bought everyone blue armbands and pieces of blue ribbon to adorn their horse's bridles. "Now we are properly attired," Jack announced. "I think we should find the Inn of Two Fountains."

  "Excuse me Master Elf?" piped up a young boy who had been sitting idle beside the booth. "Did you say the Inn of Two Fountains?"

  "What of it, lad?" Kirk inquired.

  "Well sirs," the youngster bowed. "I can see you are not familiar with Immer. I'd be more than happy to show you the way."

  "For a price no doubt?" Kirk scowled.

  "A small sum, I assure you," the lad grinned, undeterred by Vanar's fearsome look.

  "What's your name?" Jack asked.

  "Jonathan. Great captain," the youth bowed.

  "Well Johnny," Jack ventured, "does a silver Th'rakken sound fair?"

  "Two sir," Jonathan countered. "It's a goodly walk."

  "One and I'll let you ride with me," he counter offered.

  "Done!" the lad smiled, and held up his hand.

  "Make him ride in front of you your grace," Cyran suggested. "He reminds me too much of Anghol when he was a boy."

  "You're awfully suspicious Cyran. Are you speaking from experience?" laughed Jack, but when he lifted the boy up, he sat him before him just the same.

  "He's just remembering his own misspent youth," Anghol retorted. " How many times did your mum turn you over her knee for filching a purse Cyran? As I recall, you spent most of your younger years standing."

  "Which way Johnny?" Jack laughed.

  "Turn right at the next crossing," the boy advised him. "Then left two streets up. Then another left at King's Square."

  "One turn at a time please," Jack said, settling the boy in the saddle.

  "Sorry captain."

  "So, Johnny," Jack asked, as they were moving once more, "have you seen any interesting sights this morning?"

  "Indeed sir," the boy nodded vigorously. "Why just a few minutes ago Theros the Dragonslayer and the Elf King Cilimon..."

  "Cilidon," he him corrected with a smile.

  "Cilidon?"

  "That's right."

  "Well anyway, Cilidon...and his Rangers and a whole company of Dragon Guard came right down this same street."

  "You don't say?" Jack nodded.

  "Did you not see them captain?" the boy asked.

  "Only a glimpse."

  "It was a sight grand sight for sure. But not as grand as Prince Kiathan's parade yesterday," Jonathan admitted.

  "Did you say Prince Kiathan?" Jack asked quietly.

  "The Swordmaster," Jonathan nodded. "Surely you know him?"

  "Surely I do," Jack said quietly.

  "He rode into the city yesterday with five hundred soldiers all dressed in red and black, trumpets blowing and banners waving like they was coming back from a battle or something."

  "Was anyone with him?" Jack asked anxiously. "King Ellgenn perhaps? Or maybe...his daughter?"

  "There weren't no king," the boy said with a shake of his head. "He did have a princess with him. A pretty one too, with long red hair, but made up in white and gold armor like them horse knights they've got in Doridan. She had five other women riding with her as well. Not like servants with dresses and such but made up in armor like hers.”

  “They are called Horsemaidens,” Jack explained. “I hear they are quite fierce.”

  “They looked fierce, all right,” the boy nodded. “But the princess looked sad. She didn't seem happy at all. No sir. Can you imagine captain? Getting to ride right up front with the Swordmaster and her looking like she'd just bit into a green peachfruit. Makes you wonder. What with her supposed to be marrying him and all."

  "It surely does," Jack remarked calmly, while his mind screamed, "I'm coming Annawyn! "Do you know a lot about what goes on in Immer?"

  "I know what happens in the city before the watch," the boy boasted proudly.

  "Is that so?" Jack asked, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Some friends of mine should be arriving soon. In a day or two. By the end of the week at least. If I gave you another silver Th'rakken, and promised to pay you...two more, do you think you could keep an eye out for them? Maybe come get me at the inn when you hear they're in town?"

  "Could I ever!" the boy cried. "What do these friends of yours look like?"

  "You'll know them when you see them," Jack promised. "There will be about a hundred of them. Amarians. With shields adorned with a silver lightning bolt. There will be an older, one eyed man leading them."

  "They shouldn't be too hard to spot," the boy nodded.

  "I wouldn't think so," Jack admitted. "You come running to the Inn of Two Fountains as soon as you see them and ask to speak with the Duke of Thonbor."

  "The Duke of Thonbor? Never heard of him. Who is he?"

  "Our lord," Vanar said quickly, flashing Jack a warning look which said he was telling the lad too much.

  "Do we have a deal Johnny?"

  "For three silver Th'rakken," Jonathan laughed, "I'll sit at the city gate until the High King himself returns."

  "Are you sure? You likely miss some of the Haelfest?"

  "There'll be another one in four years," the boy shrugged. "Besides, Prince Kiathan will win again. Just like the last two."

  "Would you care to make a bet on lad?" Vanar asked.

  "Now Kirk..." Jack began, disapprovingly.

  "Your three against say...my ten?" the captain smiled.

  "Deal!" Jonathan crowed. "I'm gonna be rich!"

  "Don't go sending your money just yet boy," Brian advised him. "You just might be in for a surprise."

  "Who are these friends you are expecting?" Kirk asked, after they made their first turning.

  "Amarians I met last fall," Jack replied offhandedly. "You'll like them. They're a rowdy bunch, but good people once you get to know them."

  "Your Captain Tarsus was an Amarian?" Erlwin asked. "Will he be with them? That's one man I'd like to meet."

  "I surely hope he will," Jack sighed. I surely do.

  Another turn brought the travelers to the great intersection called King's Square. There they encountered a large crowd gathered around a raised performer’s stage where a storyteller was recounting with great theatrics the last battle between the Ljmarn Bra ‘Adan and the dark-King Graith upon the slopes of Mount Sheol.

  "Don't waste your time captain," Jonathan advised him with a disdainful wave at the platform. "They'll be here for two more days yet and the best storytellers won't be start until tomorrow night. We should turn left here. The Inn of Two Fountains is three more blocks down. Ho! Hey!" the boy shouted at the blocking crowds. "Make way for the Duke of Thonbor's men!"

  "That's not necessary," Jack said quickly. "We don't have to disturb them." Luckily, it seemed the crowd as more intent on the thrilling climax of the story as Graith threw himself into the fires of Mount Sheol than the commands of their boisterous young guide. "Eaudreuil?" he beamed. "Can you..."

  "Make a path?" the Val'anna asked, and began to use his great bulk to ease aside the milling throng. They parted quickly at the sight of the huge stallion, making a wide corridor for them to pass through. Three streets later they arrived at their destination.

  "That's it up ahead captain," Jonathan said, pointing at a stately mansion behind a low st
one wall.

  "Looks nice," Braedan remarked appreciatively. "I just hope Count Arthol is here. We're a bit early."

  "Shall I inquire within sir?" Brian asked, as they stopped before the inn.

  "Please."

  The youngest Lion dismounted and knocked loudly on the closed gate, producing a doorman who looked the six men over disapprovingly. "We are full," he announced in none too civil a tone, being accustomed to nobler guests. "Perhaps you should try The Willows or The Broken Arrow."

  "We have rooms’ reserved good sir," Captain Vanar replied, moving aside his cloak to reveal his finely tailored uniform. "We are in the party of Thain Arthol, Prime Minister of Brythond. Has the count arrived yet?"

  "He has indeed," the doorman nodded. "Just last night. Your names please."

  "Duke Jack Braedan and his men," Kirk announced. "If you will send for his grace's valet Nicolas de'Aabran, he will vouch for us."

  "Very well sirs," the doorman bowed. "If you will wait here."

  "You've done a fine job Johnny," Jack said, dismounting then helping the boy down as well. "It's almost lunch time. Why don't you go get yourself something good to eat? Here's the Th'rakken I promised. You'll get the rest as soon as you send word my friends have arrived."

  "Thank you, captain," the boy grinned. "It's been nice doing business with you. See?" he said, turning to Cryan. "I didn't even touch his purse. And I could have taken it easy too."

  "Run along boy," Cyran laughed. "Before I tan your hide for even thinking about it."

  "Were you really a pick-pocket when you were younger?" Jack asked, watching Jonathan saunter off admiring his newly earned coin.

  "The best in Brythond your grace," the guardsman bowed. "Next to Anghol of course."

  "Perhaps I'd better keep a closer eye on those two," Jack said to Kirk with mock seriousness.

  "I would appreciate the help your grace," Kirk sighed heavily. "The task, is indeed an arduous one."

  The inn's doorman was not long in returning, but instead of Nicolas appearing to confirm their identity, Count Arthol himself came down to greet them.

  "Your grace?" Arthol asked.

  Jack removed his floppy hat and smiled. “Hello Thain.”

  “I hardly recognize you!” he exclaimed, off offering Braedan a welcoming hand. "You have arrived earlier than expected. And in disguise as well?"

  "There was...trouble in Elvendale," Jack replied. "King Cilidon thought it best not to tarry. Kirk thought it best I shouldn’t ride into Immer as the Duke of Thonbor alongside the Dragonslayer."

  "Trouble in Elvendale?" the count remarked with shock. "Of what sort?"

  "Krayga," Jack explained gravely. "There were some deaths I'm sorry to say."

  "Yh's Merciful Son!" Arthol exclaimed. "Krayga! In the Golden Wood! Troubling news. Troubling news indeed. Come inside and tell me all about it. Steuart. Have the grooms see to their horses," he instructed the doorman.

  "Yes, your grace," the man bowed.

  "Someone is missing." Count Arthol remarked as the men dismounted and began filling through the gate. "Kaegel?"

  "Aye your grace." Captain Vanar nodded sadly. "We lost him to a wolf pack, ten leagues from Goldenbriar Gate."

  "Wolves along the Elfway?" Arthol said wonderingly. "Krayga in Elvendale? Is there no place in Aralon safe these days?"

  "It does not appear so your grace," Vanar admitted.

  "Come inside gentlemen," the count said consolingly. "We shall find something to wash the road from your throats."

  Once beyond the gate, Jack saw immediately from whence the inn had gotten its name. In the courtyard of the stately manor, twin fountains of wondrous design greeted his sight, each possessing several levels over which water cascaded nosily down into a large pool many yards across. Swimming in the crystal water of the pool was a family of majestic, snow white swans, and beneath the surface were schools of large, gold and white flecked carp. On the steps leading up to the manor, the group was met by a pair of bowing footmen, who quickly opened the polished oak doors and showed them inside.

  "I can see why this is your favorite place to stay in Immer, your grace," Jack remarked. The interior of the manor bore an uncanny resemblance the count's estate in Brythond.

  "I believe you will find your suite is likewise comfortingly familiar," Arthol replied.

  "There you are your grace!" a finely dressed man said, appearing in a huff from the doorway across the room. "I have been searching for you everywhere."

  "Gentlemen," Count Arthol said, "allow me to introduce Gorning Coreze, the proprietor of Two Fountains. Master Coreze, this is the young man I was telling you about. Jack Braedan, His Grace the Duke of Thonbor."

  "I am honored your grace," Master Coreze bowed. "If you should require anything during your stay with us, do not hesitate to send for me. The Prime Minister has been a valued guest of Two Fountains for twenty years. When we heard of the cowardly abduction of his lovely Thessa, we were distressed beyond words. That her rescuer should grace our humble establishment is a great honor."

  "Thank you Master Coreze," Jack replied, returning his bow. "These are my liege-men, the Golden Lions of Thonbor. Captain Kirk Vanar and Lieutenants Cyran, Erlwin, Anghol, Brian and Michael."

  "Were there not to be seven your grace?" Master Coreze asked, immediately aware of the missing guardsman.

  "One was lost to a wolf pack on the Elfway," Arthol informed their host.

  "Terrible news!" Coreze lamented. "Simply terrible. These are dark days were living in. Have I not often said so your grace?"

  "You have indeed my friend," the count nodded. "Many times. Is there some matter needing my attention? I would see these men to a strong drink and then their rooms. They have come a long distance, and a hard road it was."

  "If you please," Master Coreze sighed, "the young lady of yours is causing a stir in the kitchen. Chef Funen is threatening to resign if she is not removed."

  "I will see to Gweneveare," Count Arthol sighed.

  "Gwen his here?" Kirk cried.

  "How could I leave her in Brythond?" Thain asked. "The poor dear was heart..." Kirk was already sprinting across the room towards the kitchen.

  "I think your problem is solved Master Coreze," Jack smiled.

  "If he can remove that lioness from my kitchen," Coreze vowed, "I will personally serve your company the finest wine from my private cellar."

  "Then let us see to those drinks my good master," Cyran said, taking their host by his arm. "For she'll not be troubling your kitchen for some time to come."

  "I heard a disturbing rumor on the way here sir," Jack said, as they began to follow Master Coreze to the manor's dining hall.

  "Let me guess," Count Arthol muttered. "Prince Kiathan?"

  "Is it true?" asked Jack.

  "It is indeed more than a disturbing rumor," Arthol sighed. "Ellgenn declared him heir to the throne two weeks ago. The High Council of Doridan has already approved it. Disturbing...but legal I'm afraid."

  "And the people of Doridan said nothing when Annawyn was usurped?" Jack asked with disbelief.

  "After the shock wore off," Arthol nodded. "But by then it was too late. Only the Knights of the White Horse offer resistance. They are holed up in their tower, surrounded by a brigade of Kiathan's personal troops and two more on their way up from Raashan. Thankfully, they haven't worked up the nerve to try an assault yet. I fear however, it will not be long in coming. Whispers from Dorshev say King Ellgenn might not live out the month. If I were a betting man, I would wager as soon as Kiathan and Annawyn are wed, and Ellgenn draws his last breath, the Knights of the White Horse will be no more."

  "What a flaming mess," Jack sighed.

  "Unless of course, you defeat Kiathan in the Competition of the Sword next week and name him a traitor before the Kings of the Whesguard." Arthol replied, "Your task has gained much importance my Lord Thonbor. If you cannot defeat Kiathan and become the new Swordmaster, it will likely mean war. Theros will not stand by idle and watc
h the Duke of Raashan claim the Ivory Throne."

  "I think I'm ready for a drink now," Jack muttered.

  When Master Coreze had them all seated in the dining hall and each man had a large goblet of wine resting before them, poured as promised by his own hand from his private stock, Count Arthol bid them a good afternoon and left for the palace to greet King Theros. The young guardsmen fell to their drinks, doing their utmost to wash away the trials of the last two weeks with the strong, red wine. After taking his first hearty swallow however, Jack suddenly found himself staring at the dark reflection of his face in the bottom of the cup.

  "Forgive me my lord," Cyran said hesitantly, noticing his unease. "I could not help overhearing your conversation with Count Arthol. Is there more to Kiathan's treachery than you have told us?"

  "There is," Jack nodded bleakly. The Lions only knew the Doridanian noble wanted him dead, and was somehow involved with Valarius Th'lann in the plot to usurp Theros' crown. Braedan had said nothing to his young guardsmen of the gruesome ritual he had witnessed in the heart of the Iron Tower. He realized now he had been remiss in not revealing to them the full extent of the duke's treachery. Without looking up from his cup, Jack now took the Golden Lions fully into his confidence.

  "Kiathan is much more than a simple traitor," he began. "The Duke of Raashan is in league with Gorthiel. It is his plan to seize the Ivory Throne, and from his seat of power ensure Doridan becomes an unwitting pawn of the threat rising in the east."

  "You mean the grim'Hiru moving south, the wolves answering this summons..." Cyran stammered.

  "I mean Graith is alive," Jack announced darkly. "Recovering in Gorthiel from the wounds he suffered on Mount Sheol but very much alive. When he has regained his full strength, he will take the Bloodstone and make war on the Whesguard for dominion of Aralon.”