Path of Kings

by James Dale

  "So are we!" Jack barked, emerging from the shadows. "I'll be right back."

  Exiting the stables at a run, he almost crashed headlong into a startled groom. "Saddle the Val'anna!" Jack commanded, barely avoiding the frightened servant. "And the bay and the black gelding. I want them ready to ride in five minutes!"

  "Yes sir," the groomed bowed.

  Jack sprinted across the grounds and into the manor, unmindful of the curious looks his frantic dash produced in the guests and servants he passed. Bursting into the inn's dining hall, he found everyone still seated at the table where he'd left them only a few minutes earlier. They instantly sprang to their feet with his abrupt re-appearance.

  "My Lord!" Kirk cried. "Is something wrong?"

  "Kiathan is here!" Jack snarled.

  "What!" the captain shouted. "You mean...here? At the Two Fountains?"

  "He was in the stables. Cyran! Erlwin! Come with me. We are leaving at once."

  "Yes, my Lord," the two Lions nodded.

  "Tell Count Arthol I'll send word as soon as I know where we're staying," Jack informed his confused captain. "He can send our things once I'm sure we haven't been followed."

  "The rest of us are not to accompany you?" Vanar asked.

  "No. Three leaving will not cause much concern," Jack explained. "If we were to all depart so abruptly, the other guests might notice. And we cannot afford their talk."

  "Yes, my Lord," Kirk nodded reluctantly.

  "If anyone should ask, tell them we have gone out to see the city. But nothing more."

  "Yes my Lord."

  "Come on guys," Jack said, and turned without another word.

  "Where are we going my Lord?" Cyran asked, hurrying to catch up.

  "I don't know," Jack sighed. "The Broken Arrow? From the way the doorman spoke of it, Kiathan will never think to look for us there."

  "Are you sure?" Erlwin asked hesitantly. "The establishment possess a most...ummm... disreputable reputation."

  "Then that's exactly where we are going," Jack nodded.

  "The let’s be off," Erlwin informed his liege. "No uniforms. No finery. In that quarter of the city it would draw unwanted attention. Kiathan would be the least of your concerns. Every cutthroat and pick pocket in the city would be on our heels.

  "Agreed," Jack nodded. "Grab bed rolls and weapons and meet at the entrance in ten minutes.”

  Jack found a valet and inquired where he might find his room. Still dressed in his green and brown elvish garb, it took him a moment to convince the man he was indeed the Duke of Thonbor. A gold Thrakken settled the matter quickly, and he was shown to his room. Braedan sighed with regret when he saw what he would be missing. The room was finer than his suit at Count Arthols. With a wistful final glance, he grabbed his travel pack and headed for the exit. The two Lions were waiting for him.

  The groom Jack had encountered earlier was waiting for them just inside the stable, holding the reigns of Eaudreuil and the two other horses. Jack tossed the man a silver coin and vaulted into the saddle, then urged the Val'anna forward barely pausing for the groom to open the stable doors. Sensing his friend's urgency, the stallion immediately broke into a gallop once outside the stable, riding furiously for the front gate. Seeing the three horsemen barreling towards him, Steuart jerked open the gate just in time to let them pass.

  "Which way my Lord?" Cyran cried, as they emerged out onto the street.

  "There!" Jack shouted, picking a side alley separating two nearby buildings. As they plunged headlong into the ally, they nearly rode down a pair of startled old men emerging from a side door at the same time.

  "Ruffians!" one called after them, shaking his fist as they thundered passed. "Have a care or I'll set the watch on ye!"

  "Slow down!" Erlwin cried breathlessly. "My lord! No one has seen us leave the inn! You will only call unwanted attention if you trample some poor pedestrian!"

  Jack eased back on Eaudreuil's reigns, slowing the galloping stallion to a more manageable trot, and Erlwin's fortuitous warning prevented just such an accident. As the trio emerged from the far end of the ally, they encountered a large throng lining the street watching the passing of a colorful parade. It was evidently a traveling menagerie, come to Immer to entertain the crowds gathered for Ljmarn Haelfest. There were marching elephants and barred carriages containing lions and tigers and other wild beasts, followed by jugglers and a small army of leaping, tumbling acrobats. Seizing this opportunity, for who would notice the passing of three ordinary horsemen after such a display, Jack urged Eaudreuil into the street and they fell in behind the gay procession.

  "Are we joining the circus my Lord?" Cyran asked, waving to the cheering crowds as he reigned in beside Jack. "My juggling is a little rusty."

  "You can always clean up after the elephants," Erlwin suggested.

  "Quiet you two," Jack muttered. "Look for a side street that will take us away from the Two Fountains."

  "There," Erlwin nodded, pointing to the approaching intersection. "If I remember correctly that street leads to The Broken Arrow."

  "You've been there before, haven't you?" Jack inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  "I have not always been a rich officer," Erlwin smiled. "Hobnobbing with counts and dukes is a new experience for me. Four years ago, when I came to Immer for the Competition of the Sword, I happened to fall in with a group staying at The Huntsman. It was two buildings down from The Broken Arrow."

  "Then why aren't you leading?" Jack sighed. "I haven't a bloody clue where I'm going."

  At Erlwin's direction, they left the menagerie at the appropriate intersection and struck out toward the westernmost portion of the city. Two blocks more they followed the street, then turned left, then left again, until they entered the district the guardsman recalled from his last visit to Immer. It was not as run-down as Jack had envisioned it would be, but he quickly realized they hand entered a rougher neighborhood by simply counting the number of city watchmen patrolling the streets. No doubt because the celebrants inhabiting this district thought it necessary to observe the Haelfest by consuming great quantities of alcohol.

  Jack reigned Eaudreuil to a stop before just such a group, a rough looking lot of six men well into their cups, loitering at the doorway of a noisy tavern.

  "Good day gentlemen," Jack said pleasantly. "Could one of you perhaps direct me to The Broken Arrow?"

  "Who wants to know?" asked the apparent leader of the group, eyeing their fine horses with a brigand’s lustful stare. Though the trio were near as rough looking as the gathered six, the horses they were riding suggested they might have coin despite their appearance.

  "It is much too fine a day for bloodshed," Cyran growled, laying his hand threateningly on the hilt of his sword. "Answer my lord's question."

  "No need for threats of violence Gawain," Jack said soothingly. "It's only polite we give the gentleman our names. I am Sir Percival Langley of Birmingham," he continued with a flowing bow. "We have been six days on the trail of my young nephew Archibald. I heard a rumor he was seen at The Broken Arrow yesterday. He ran off to the Haelfest unescorted against his mother, my sister's wishes. It's his first visit your fine city you see and well...he thought it would be an adventure to stay in...how shall I put this gently, one of your more colorful inns?"

  "How young is this nephew?" the man laughed, amused by story.

  "Archi is barely seventeen," Jack replied with an exasperated sigh, "and quite naive to the ways of the world."

  "Then you'd better git down there quickly," the ruffian guffawed. "Those sharks at The Broken Arrow will gobble young Archi up like he was a wounded seal-pup."

  "The direction sir?" he inquired again.

  "One block down and right," the man laughed. "Ye can't miss it."

  "My thanks," Jack smiled, tossing the man a gold coin. "Buy your friends a drink on me."

  "Good luck finding your cousin Percival," the man smirked, much to the delight of his rowdy companions.

  "I knew whe
re it was my lord," Erlwin said as they were moving once more.

  "I know," Jack nodded, "but now should one of Kiathan's searchers inquire here about three men matching our description, if those men are sober enough to remember us at all, it will be as Sir Percival Langley searching for his poor nephew Archibald."

  "Who is flaming Percival Langly?" asked Cyran.

  "My point exactly," Jack smiled.

  They arrived at The Broken Arrow without incident and found it to be the perfect, disreputable establishment Erlwin had warned them of. Leaving Cyran with the horses, Jack and Erlwin entered the squat, brick building and discovered the lower story taken up entirely by a dim, smoke filled common room, already crowded at this early hour by drunken revelers. A burly, unkept bouncer intercepted them as they headed for the bar, apparently mistaking the swords at their hips and rough dress as troublemakers.

  "No fighting now, mind you," he growled. "We haven't paid the sheriff this month's duty and he'll shut us down if he has to come down here again."

  "We are here only for a room," Jack informed him. "Trouble is the last thing we want."

  "Long as ye understand the rules," the bouncer nodded, "ye'll have not trouble. You can pay your money up front. Just the two of you?"

  "Three," Jack informed him. "We will also require stabling for our mounts."

  "That'll cost you six half-silver a night. Two more if'n you want 'em fed."

  "Outrageous!" Erlwin cried.

  "Take it or leave it," the bouncer grinned coldly. "You’ll not find a fairer pricer. Hardly a room left in the city.”

  "We'll take it," Jack nodded. "Help Cyran with the horses. I'll see to our room."

  The bouncer led Jack to the rear of the tavern and up a flight of sturdy stairs, stepping over unconscious patrons as they climbed. It was the last room at the end of a narrow hallway, and had only two beds. But at least the sheets appeared to have been changed recently. There was also a window facing the alley out back. It was certainly not a suite at The Inn of Two Fountains, but it would serve.

  "This will do nicely," Jack said, reaching into the pouch at his belt and counting enough coins for a week. The bouncer could not help but notice their absence hardly dented the pouch's bulge. When the man reached eagerly for the money, Jack casually grasped his thumb and twisted it back savagely, forcing the man to his knees with a surprised cry of pain.

  "I've not had a particularly good day," Jack continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather or some other trivial matter. "If any of your...friends downstairs, you know, the one's we're not supposed to trouble...if they should happen to think about visiting this room, to perhaps call on three travelers who may or may not be down on their luck, I'll rip off your arm and bugger you with it before I kill you. Do you understand the rules?"

  "Yes," the bouncer hissed between clinched teeth.

  "Yes what?" Jack asked.

  "Yes...sir?"

  "That will be all," Jack said, dropping the coins into the man's palm. He released the man's thumb and he struggled to his feet, dropping some of the coins as he rubbed the throbbing digit.

  "Be so kind as to tell my friends this room number," Jack said, dismissing him with a disdainful wave.

  "Yes sir," the man muttered darkly, scooping up the dropped coins and backing his way out the door.

  "I thought I was done with places like this," Erlwin grumbled, eyeing the small room disapprovingly when he and Cyran appeared a few minutes later.

  "Not quite what you expected when you swore to the Heir of Bra‘Adan?" Jack asked from his seat on one of the beds.

  "You could say that my lord," the guardsman frowned

  "Are the horses safely stabled?"

  "Aye," Cyran nodded. "And in better quarters than these. In fact, I am considering sleeping with them tonight. The hay down there looks softer than these beds."

  "And will not likely be harboring half as many crawling beasties," Erlwin added.

  "Come now," Jack smiled. "Where's your spirit of adventure?"

  "I've had enough of adventures," Erlwin sighed. "Can't we just find young Archi and go home?"

  "Afraid not," Jack laughed. "I paid for a week and a week we're going to stay."

  "Blood and Fire," Erlwin muttered. "Why couldn't you have chosen Anghol to come along on this outing?"

  "Because I already have one pick-pocket and two would be too much trouble," answered Jack, kicking off his boots and laying back on the bed. "Now quit complaining and tell me what I need to know to enter the Competition of the Sword."

  The process was much simpler than Jack had expected. All he had to do, Erlwin explained as he took a seat on the other bed, was register his name with the Master of Ceremonies and show up at the coliseum at the appointed time of his match.

  "What if I don't want to use my own name?" Jack asked.

  "That's no problem," the guardsman shrugged. "There's this nice little provision some thoughtful rules committee implemented about two hundred years ago, whick allows you to register under an alias. At least a dozen competitors use it every Haelfest. Due to a slight misunderstanding about the ownership of a horse, long since settled, I was forced to take advantage of it myself. I entered as the Gray Tiger."

  "The Gray Tiger!" Cyran laughed. "Four years ago? You? How have you kept this from us?”

  "It was," Erlwin replied sheepishly. “And everyone has secrets.”

  "Colorful," Jack grinned. "Since you're an old hand at this practice, have you any thoughts on what name I could use?"

  "The Disinherited Knight?" Erlwin suggested tentatively. "Meaning no disrespect my Lord, but it kind of well, fits you."

  "It just so happens I was thinking the same thing." Jack smiled. "The Disinherited Knight it is. When and where do I sign?"

  "We'll go down to the coliseum first thing tomorrow morning," Erlwin replied. "They should remember me. I almost made it to the quarter-finals you know. I might be able to get you a good draw in the pairing."

  "Tomorrow then," Jack nodded. "Cyran, do you think you could go back to the Two Fountains and retrieve my armor without being seen?"

  "Of course, my lord," the guardsman replied.

  "Erlwin. We'll need to purchase some more inconspicuous clothing if we are going to stay at The Broken Arrow. You wouldn't happen to know somewhere close by where three simple adventurers could outfit themselves would you? I don't relish wearing the same clothes for the next two weeks."

  "There are several shops in this district that cater to the mercenary guilds," Erlwin replied.

  "Buy whatever you think we may need," Jack said, tossing the guardsman his money pouch.

  "How much of this do you want back my Lord?"

  "As much as you can reasonably spare," Jack laughed. "Unless you want to be buying all the drinks while we're here."

  "I'll be back by supper Sir Percy," Erlwin bowed.

  "I may be a bit longer," Cyran said thoughtfully.

  "Take all the time you need," Jack nodded. "Just don't be seen."

  "My lord," Cyran said, as if offended, "I may only be a pick-pocket and not a horse thief..."

  "I am not a horse thief!" Erlwin cried.

  "But I think I can sneak into an inn without anyone seeing," Cyran smiled.

  "Get going you two," Jack sighed.

  "Horse thief indeed," Erlwin muttered as they headed for the door. "I told you it was a misunderstanding."

  "Of course, it was," Cyran smiled, patting his friend's shoulder.

  While the two Lions were about their tasks, Braedan busied himself by sharpening Grimrorr. The sword needed no such work, being forged with elven magik and by its very nature, never requiring such maintenance. But he found the simple back and forth motion and the satisfying scrape of steel on stone relaxing. An hour later, he had just returned the sword to its scabbard after applying a thin coat of oil to its length when Erlwin returned.

  "I found us some good leather my lord," he announced, depositing his purchases on the unoccupied be
d. "And something for you I think you'll like. It's silk, but it's worn enough not to warrant a second look," The guardsman pulled a blue, sleeveless shirt from the pile and held it up for inspection.

  "What's the design on the breast?" Braedan asked. On the shirt was a panther or some similar cat embroidered in silver.

  "It's the old coat of arms from the House of Ellgaer," Erlwin grinned. "Kiathan doesn't use it anymore, preferring his beloved Sparrowhawk. I thought you'd appreciate the irony. While he's looking for us and all, you could be walking around wearing this."

  "You've a devilish wit, Erlwin." Jack grinned.

  "I'm glad you noticed," the guardsman nodded proudly. "I also got you this," Reaching back into the pile, he produced a triangular black cloth trimmed in scarlet, with two cut-outs along one edge.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "Another item of the Disinherited Knight's disguise," Erlwin replied. "Your helmet will hide your identity right enough while you're armored up and competing, but between matches you'll need this." The guardsman snapped the cloth and settled it over his head, tying the ends with practiced ease. "See?" he grinned, his eyes peering from the two slits with mischievous glee. "Give the stubble on your face another two days and it could be anyone beneath this mask. Your green eyes will be a problem, but tuck your ears in like so," he demonstrated, "and you are a rogue Ailfar once again. Uncommon but not unheard of."

  "You're a wonder," Jack beamed happily.

  "Thank you, my lord," Erlwin bowed with a flourish. "I will remind you when it comes time to pass out more promotions."

  "You'll be at the top of the list," Jack promised.

  Cyran returned while the two men where changing into the nondescript leathers Erlwin had purchased.

  "I could not retrieve your armor my lord," he apologized. "Kiathan's men are as thick as fleas on a hound outside the inn. I managed to slip in however, and I informed Count Arthol where we are. He has promised it will be discreetly delivered before the competition begins."

  "I suppose it will have to do," Jack sighed. "It's been a busy day, why don't we go down-stairs and see what The Broken Arrow's kitchen has to offer for supper? I'm starving."