by James Dale
“Unless you have found a way to magik yourself back with Sunheart?” Perigaen asked.
“I saw Graith create a slash in…space…in the Temple of the Sword to escape. If I could do the same I wouldn’t be sitting here now,” Jack sighed. “Lord Khaevan, a favor please? Tell Shaeron, Lord Shaeron,” he corrected. “To take good care of Cassy. And whatever guard Anna has in place at the palace, tell her to triple it if she hasn’t already? That dragon must have taken flight from Gorthiel the moment I cleansed the Land of Dreams. Graith has probably made his next move already, once he learned his na’Hhoul had failed. By failed I mean I cut the foul thing in half. Even leaving this evening, five days is a long time. I don’t want to arrive back in Dorshev only to find it overrun by some grim’Hiru army while we are stuck defenseless in the Stream of Time.”
“I will personally have her ensure Queen Annawyn takes all necessary precautions,” Perigaen assured him. “Lord Eirique as well. Leviathan is not the only monster swimming the Widewater. Though he was the strongest. War is upon us. It began the moment you drew Yhswyndyr. Forgive me High King, for not realizing it sooner. The Whesguard will be warned. Graith will find it hard to surprise them.”
“See, was that so hard?” Jack sighed. “Last favor. For now, at least. If he isn’t busy, could you ask Lord Faendil to join me for breakfast in the kitchens? I should have thought of it sooner but if his sight can be of help, maybe I can quit re-acting and do a better job of acting.”
“I will see if he is available,” Perigaen nodded. “I assure you however, if he possessed knowledge that would be of service to you, I would have passed it along already. Despite how it may seem, the Staffclave does not withhold all information from you High King.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Jack said, standing. “Again, please forgive my rudeness. I under-stand the value of compartmentalization. I’m sure the Staffclave always has the best interest of the Whesguard in mind.”
The High Lord waved his hand dismissively, as if the entire matter had been forgotten.
“Anna is safe,” Jack informed Dorad, who had been waiting outside patiently. “That’s the most important thing.” He informed him all he had learned in the…meeting with Perigaen. Dorad had overheard much of what Jack had said…well…shouted at the High Lord.
“I suspected the Staffclave had spies at court, even when I was, well…not the model of nobility,” the former prince nodded. “They always knew what was transpiring in the Whesguard, sometimes before we Whesguardians did ourselves. Do not think too harshly of them for not telling you. They have been a secretive order since their founding. My advice my Lord? Set about creating you own network of...court observers? And do it soon. I know it’s all “let’s win this war,” right now, but afterwards? The kingdoms of the Whesguard have been without a High King for centuries, looking after their own interests. The throne of Immer, your throne my lord King, would be well served having…how did Lord Khaevan put it…information that hadn’t been lessened in quality?”
“Are you currently employed?” Jack said, thoughtfully.
“Me? A spy master?” Dorad laughed.
“I’ll need someone I can trust,” Jack said. “I trust you with my life.”
“I will give it some thought,” the prince replied.
“Go help Alnordel ready the Wind while you think,” Jack nodded. “We are leaving on the evening tide.” Jack said.
“Then I’d better go pack,” his friend nodded. “I’ll see you on the Wind, my Lord.”
“Sergeant Agrion, Corporal Wehelk,” Jack said, turning to the Hammer guardsmen on his detail this morning. “It goes without saying anything you overhear is privileged information.”
“What was that my King?” Sergeant Agrion smiled, “Forgive me, but my thoughts were miles away.”
“Good man,” Jack grinned. “Have you gentlemen had breakfast?”
“We have my Lord,” the sergeant replied. “Before we came on shift.”
“Then see me to the kitchens and you are relieved,” Jack informed them. “I’ll send word if I need anyone.”
“We will be outside you chamber, my Lord,” Agrion said.
“You don’t have any packing to do? We are leaving on the tide.”
“We have been prepared to depart since the day you drew Yhswyndyr, my King,” Wehelk shrugged.
“Me too,” Jack sighed.
Braedan dismissed the Immermen after arriving at the kitchens. They saluted and left without a word. He suspected if he stayed here eating all morning, he’d find them alert and ready whenever he returned to his room. Captain d’Kenna ran a disciplined bunch of warriors. Nothing as frivolous as a command from their king to take a few hours off would sway them from their duties. When Jack entered the kitchen unannounced, a young servant girl squeaked in surprise and ran shouting for the head cook. He returned only a few seconds later, wiping flour on his apron and bowing simultaneously.
“My Lord,” he bowed again. “This is unexpected. Breakfast was finished an hour ago but I’m sure…”
“Whatever you can scrounge up will be fine,” Jack assured him. “Is the private room of Perigaen’s available?”
“Of course. Of course,” he bowed again. “Follow me my Lord.”
“I remember how to get there,” Jack smiled. “You look busy.”
“Baking fresh bread, my lord king,” he nodded. “For your journey.”
“Word travels fast,” Braedan said, impressed.
“Oh no, my Lord,” the cook grinned. “We’ve been baking since yesterday. We delivered fifty loaves and some sweet rolls to Muriel’s Revenge three hours before sunrise.”
“I don’t suppose…”
“How many would you like?” the cook laughed.
“Just two?” Jack smiled. “Wouldn’t want to spoil my appetite. Lord Faendil will be joining me. He’s probably already eaten but bring a couple for him if there are any to spare.”
“Of course,” he bowed once again.
Jack made his way to Perigaen’s private dining room and the squeaking girl delivered his sweet rolls almost before he could sit down. She squeaked again and curtseyed when he thanked her and she rushed from the room. After learning Shaeron was a Lord in disguise, Jack half suspected she might be a plant as well. No one could be that skittish working at the Lord’s keep, could they?
The sweet rolls were delicious.
Lord Faendil arrived not long after Squeaker had delivered his breakfast; scrambled eggs, two pieces of thick, crisp bacon and what looked like a fair attempt at hash browns. “Something to eat?” asked Jack. “I’m sure they will bring more.”
“I’ve already had a few of Master Galilaen’s sweet rolls,” Faendil smiled. “He makes the greatest pastries in all of Aralon.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Jack nodded. “Have a seat?”
“I know why you have asked me here, my Lord,” Faendil said, pulling up a chair.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Jack smiled. “The Seerer Lord? Pardon my manners, but I’m going to eat as we talk.” The scrambled eggs were light and fluffy, almost as delicious as the sweet rolls. “So,” Jack said after several generous forkfuls. “What can you tell me about the…well, the future?” he asked. “I’ve been bouncing from one desperate situation to the next since the moment I drew Yhswyndyr. If I know what’s coming next, maybe my actions won’t seem so rash to Lady Ara’fael. Maybe I won’t go visit my wife to find a dragon perched outside her bedroom window?”
“I am not a soothsayer,” Faendil replied. “I cannot read your palm between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.”
“What can you tell my then, Lord Faendil? I’m kind of in the dark here. This may come as a surprise to you,” Jack said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “But I’m no great general. I know a thing or two about war, don’t get me wrong, but my largest….command…until we rode south from Immer, was an eight man Special Forces team.”
“Yet that turned o
ut…well,” Faendil said. “From what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, I’m sure you know exactly how it all went down,” Jack replied. “Can you help me? Or do I continue to just go with my instinct and react to threats as they spring up in front of me?”
“High King, I have seen Graith triumph and darkness cover the earthe,” Faendil said, closing his eyes as if watching the world unfold in his mind. “I have seen you triumph and become more evil than the dark-King in an attempt to do good. I have seen tragedy and joy in a hundred different ways. The future depends on the choices we make. I can tell you my Lord the path you have charted, with the Annothians and with King Tarsus and Prince Thonicil, will have success. Though not perhaps exactly as you intend. The Galekindar will meet Tarsus with little inconvenience and in none of my visions have I seen the forces of Norgarthan or Denelad on the field at Bergeweld.”
“So we will meet Graith’s armies on the Bloody Plains, then?” asked Jack, swallowing a bite of crispy bacon.
“Perhaps,” Faendil shrugged. “It is but one on many future possibilities and there are many variables which may…alter…that vision.”
“You aren’t being very helpful,” Jack sighed.
“You must understand,” Faendil replied. “If you depend too heavily my visions, you may choose a certain path because of what I have seen. Based on a possibility of what I have seen. That path…may not necessarily be the correct one. I can tell you most assuredly however, Queen Annawyn will be the subject on no further attacks before you reach Dorshev.”
“That’s some comfort I guess,” Jack replied. “At least I won’t have to spend the next five days worrying about her. Thank you.”
“The next week is…determined. Unless you suddenly decide to sit here and gorge on Master Galilaen’s sweet rolls?” Faendil said thoughtfully.
“Tempting,” Jack laughed. “But I’m afraid I have too much to do. I may take as many with me as I can carry though.”
“I see sweet rolls in your future, my lord King,” Faendil smiled.
“Please, it’s just Jack.” Braedan insisted. “We’re old friends. I was a penniless pirate when we first met after all.”
“Very well…Jack,” the Lord nodded.
“Of course it doesn’t mean I won’t continue to pester you with questions,” Jack grinned.
“Sadly, I have seen that, in my future,” Faendil sighed.
“Are you sure you don’t want any breakfast? It’s delicious. I think you need to start searching your visions for Master Galilaen cooking for me in Dorshev.” Jack said, finishing the last bite of hash browns.
“My Lord…Jack, it will do you no harm in telling you this, but if…if you survive this war your future does not lie in Dorshev,” Faendil raised a hand to fend off the questions he knew was coming. “More I cannot say. It is…hidden…from me. If there is nothing else?” he asked, as if saying even this was revealing too much. “I have duties to attend before we sail.”
“Go on,” Jack nodded. “I’ve learned all you are willing to share it seems. Wait! The squeaking servant girl? She’s a Lord, right? Or an adept at least?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Faendil asked, the picture of innocence.
“I knew it,” Jack muttered. “You guys could give the CIA a run for their money.”
“I will see you this evening…Jack,” Faendil bowed.
“Hey Squeaker!” Jack called as Faendil made his exit. The young girl peered into the room hesitantly. “Do you think Master Galilaen could pack me a basket of these sweet rolls?”
She squeaked and fled.
“Definitely an adept at least,” he decided.
Jack finished the last morsels of his breakfast, then went to thank Master Galilaen. The head cook of Lord’s Keep bowed and promised he’d have a basket of sweet rolls delivered to the Wind before it departed. Enough to last all the way to Dorshev. Upon arriving back at his room, he found Agrion and Wehelk stationed outside his door, the epitome of duty.
“The Princess Ailicia is within,” the sergeant informed him. “She was most insistent.”
“Batted her pretty green eyes at you, did she?” asked Jack.
Wehelk did his best to suppress a grin.
“It’s okay,” Jack said, patting Agrion on the shoulder as he opened the door. “She has that effect on everyone.”
Jack entered to find Ailicia sitting on a chair beside his bed. She was already dressed for travel, wearing soft leather boots reaching to her knees, a long burgundy skirt slit down the sides for riding, white cotton blouse with detailed embroidering, and a swede burgundy bodice and supple, leather vest. A leather, protective archer’s leave with polished, Ithlemere bracing was on her left arm and a long, sheathed dagger with silver handle was belted at her hip. Her flowing blonde hair was pulled back into one long braid draped over her left shoulder. A delicate silver, circlet rested on her brow, ornately crafted into a branch of Ahvendalia leaves. Little wonder Agrion could not resist her. She was the embodiment of an Ailfar warrior princess, both beautiful and deadly.
“Haven’t seen you dressed like that since we rode from Immer. You expecting trouble?” he asked.
“Trouble follows you like a shadow, cousin,” she smiled sweetly. “I just wanted to be prepared in case we had to fight our way off Lordsisle.”
“Heard about my…discussion with Perigaen, huh?” he grinned.
“The entire Keep has heard,” she replied.
“We made up,” Jack shrugged. “The Staffclave agreed to not keep any more secrets. I agreed to...consult with them before I…”
“Run off to the Land of Dreams again and pick another fight with Graith?” she interrupted.
“So you heard?” he sighed.
“I went to see Anna,” she replied. “The…echo of your visit still ripples through Dorshev. A dragon, Jack? She is well?”
“So Lord Khavaen says.” He nodded. “I have no reason to doubt him.”
“Because if he lied, you would burn this entire island down around them?”
“Basically,” Jack nodded. “I’m going to take a bath Ailicia. It’ll be five days to Dorshev. The Laughing Dragon…the Wind of Aeralnen is a fine ship but…”
“Go ahead,” she nodded. “I will wait. I have another matter I would like to discuss while we still have some privacy.”
“Oh?”
“Draw your bath, Jack,” she said. “I will pack your things in the meantime.”
“I don’t have much….”
“That is why I volunteered,” Ailicia smiled. “Go.”
Braedan unbuckled Yhswyndyr and laid it on the bed, wondering what the Ailfar princess needed to talk about that required privacy. He went to the lavatory and began running the water into the suite’s porcelain tub then undressed. He’d barely slipped into the warm, soothing water when Ailicia entered.
“I thought you were going to wait?”
“You barely have a change of socks,” she said, taking a seat on a nearby stool and arranging her skirt. “Where are your things? You had more than this on Muriel’s Revenge,” she said, toeing his pile of discarded clothes.
“I’ve another small trunk in the closet. What’s so important you’re not going to let me bathe in peace?” Braeden asked, taking a bar of soap and a rag and beginning to wash, thankful for the high rim of the suite’s tub.
“Tell me about Dorad,” she said, getting right to the point. “The Ailfar do not peddle in gossip, but even in Elvendale it was news when the Heir to the Ivory Throne is exiled. We know the tale of his misspent youth. Likely embellished by Kiathan to put him out of the way obviously. Tell me…of the man you know. Of the man he is now.”
“Really?” asked Jack, raising a questioning brow. “This is what you want to talk about that couldn’t wait?”
“There is Ailfar blood in the Ellgereth line,” she continued hesitantly. “Did you know his father Ellgenn and I were born in the same year? Or that Morgan is…seventy.”
“I know Anna got her gr
een eyes from somewhere in their family’s past,” he admitted. He just couldn’t remember where at the moment. Arianna was her name, he suddenly remembered. Why was this so important she…then it dawned on him. “Ally? You and…Really? You met him what, five, six days ago?”
“And how long did it take for you to realize your feelings for Anna?” the Ailfar princess asked.
“But Ally, you are Ailfar and he is…well…you know what I mean,” Jack sighed.
“It not without precedent,” she ventured. “The…mingling of the races. You best of all should know that.”
“If you are seeking approval shouldn’t your father be the one you are talking to?” he asked. She and Dorad? Where had this come from? Well…Ailicia was Ailicia. Half the men in Aralon probably fell asleep at night dreaming of her. The ones who had the fortunate pleasure of laying eyes on the Ailfar maiden anyway.
“The blessing of the High King would carry much weight,” Ailicia replied. “If he were to suggest such an…alliance. And you were to raise him to a suitable position of course.”
“Does Dorad know?”
“We have…spoken on occasion,” Ailicia said slowly. “I find him…interesting. Intelligent. Brave. And handsome. I believe he finds my company pleasurable.”
“Ailicia An’Maer,” Jack smiled, “Men would happily die for your slightest glance. But Dorad?”
“So you do not approve?”
“Ally, my love,” Jack said quietly, “You are the closest thing to a sister I will ever have. Dorad is like a brother to me. Nothing would please me more than to see you both happy. Whatever his youthful indiscretions, like you said, they were doubtless exaggerated by Kiathan to get him put aside. The man I know, is a good man. An honorable man. He was a good man, even in the Brother-hood. Too good for them. Being here on Lordsisle has only strengthened his character from what I have seen.”
“So it is settled then,” she smiled, relieved.
“You still have to win him, Ally,” Jack informed her. Although, if she really wanted Dorad the poor guy would likely have no choice in the matter. “You are not the only one on this island who finds Dorad…interesting. I’ve seen Lord Farra when she thinks no one is watching. He’s off helping Alnordel prepare the Wind,” Jack added innocently. “Just in case you were wondering?”
