by James Dale
“Shall I resume the wheel, King Jack,” Kaiddra asked.
“Grab it tight. It fights you something fierce at this speed,” he grinned.
“Oh, go on,” Kaiddra sighed. “Find some sea monster to slay or mermaid to bait. I cannot wait to meet your queen and tell her how you’ve been behaving.”
“And I can’t wait for Dhoran to quit dragging his feet and make a proper lady out of you,” Jack replied.
The wind faltered again.
Dhoran was relieved as his at his calling of the wind by Lord Rhia’dan, the oldest son of the King of Caladin. He had been the last Lord raised by the Staffclave, nearly twenty years ago now. The staff he carried had belonged to Namaere Dhan of Shornshea Woodrhine, who was rumored to be almost two hundred years old at his passing. He was a Lord strong of power and dutiful to his calling. Many of the Staffclave envisioned the young man as a potential High Lord someday, if his knowledge continued to grow as quickly as his power. With Lord Rhia’dan calling the wind and Maence Whelnor, the former first mate of the Laughing Dragon at the helm, the speed of the Wind of Aeralnen actually seemed to increase, if it were possible.
As nightfall approached, the first stars began to appear. Everyone on board, soldiers and crewmen alike, gathered on deck to wait for Alnordel to take a sighting and reveal how far the Wind had traveled on the first leg of their journey. The captain of the Wind searched the night sky as darkness descended. Settling on a cluster of stars about fifteen degrees above the horizon, he raised his navigation quadrant.
“What are we looking at?” Braedan asked.
“Have you forgotten your training in the Brotherhood, King Jack? Those bright stars are the Three Sisters; Shael, Kira and Iraene,” he replied, lowering the quadrant and pointing a triangle of stars. “They were Lords in a time so far back it can hardly be counted. “On Lordsisle,” Alnordel explained, raising the quadrant again as he continued, “Kira and Iraene would barely be above the horizon at this time.” He lowered the quadrant and did a quick calculation in his head.
“So that means?” asked Jack.
“We have traveled…oh, two hundred twenty or thirty leagues.” The half-Ailfar replied with wonder.
Jack smiled happily and patted Alnordel on his shoulder. “Two hundred twenty leagues!” he shouted, turning to inform everyone gathered below. “Good work. Do the same on this next cycle and we’ll be well over halfway to the coast.”
“And halfway to our Surcca Valley Red?” Erlwin called up.
“What have you done to aid this trip?” Cyran asked. “You can’t even tie a half decent knot.”
“I’ve done just as much as you,” the young Lion argued.
Laughing, Jack descended the stairs and walked among them, shaking the hands of the Wind’s crew, his Lions and anyone within reach as if each personally were responsible for their speedy progress. Searching for those truly to thank, he found the Lady Ara’fael, Malik Gamrin, High Lord Perigaen, and four other Staffclave Lords even now gathering around the Wind’s main mast to prepare their entrance into the Stream of Time. Perigaen nodded at his approach.
“Two hundred twenty leagues at least,” Braedan informed them.
“I will attempt to duplicate the feat,” the Ailfar Spellweaver replied. “While my strength holds.”
“You did wonderfully, my Lady,” Jack said, and kissed her cheek. Ara’fael returned his complement with a smile.
“I have received word from Lord Shaeron,” Perigaen informed him. “Your man Borg Cassaban is recovering quickly. Your queen…sends her love. She wishes to assure you she has so many guards surrounding her she can barely breathe. And that Doridan will be ready when you return.”
Jack smiled his thanks.
“I have also received word for Lord Eirique,” the High Lord continued. “Annoth’s fleet has slowed their pace to meet with Muriel’s Revenge. Kaerl sends his greetings to the new High King and also sends word you should have no fear of Norgarthans on the field when the day of battle comes.”
“Any other news?” asked Braedan.
“Nothing of real importance,” Perigaen replied. “I will perhaps have more for you tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Jack nodded. “Thank you all.”
“With your leave, High King. May we begin?” the Lady Ara’fael asked.
“You don’t have to wait on me, Lady,” Jack bowed. He felt her gathering power even as he turned to leave.
The next day, saw the Wind of Aeralnen another two hundred fifty leagues closer to the coast. It also brought a report from King Cilidon his Ailfar scouts had engaged a large company of grim’Hiru as they departed Ail’itharain in route to Tanaevar. The grim’Hiru were easily defeated but it was troubling to hear the Beast-men had been watching the Golden Wood. A report from Brydium and Theros informed them the border with Kadin was virtually deserted. Whether it was because Captain Khalmyia had met with success on his mission to Mullah Khan or because the Kadinar were marching toward Agash Thugar in answer to the dark-King’s call was unknown. There was nothing to report from the Lord with Tarsus Aernin and Prince Thonicil other than they were making best possible speed to the coast.
When they next exited the Steam of Time, Alnordel promised they would be within sight of the coast soon. Before sundown, the watcher atop the mainmast reported with an excited shout he had spotted the Lighthouse on Yh’s Finger. The captain of the Wind had been good on his word. After conferring with Lady Ara’fael, Alnordel informed Jack it would be best if they sailed without aid until they reached Dorihil, which he predicted they would reach before sunrise. Braedan accepted the request with only the slightest hesitation. They were going to reach Dorshev in four days! He could have asked for little more. He hugged Ara’fael so fiercely she complained he’d broken her ribs.
Three hours before sunrise, The Wind of Aeralnen sailed by the city of Dorihil without stopping. A short hour in the Stream of Time found them at Raashan. Here Sir Gain Ellgereth begged leave to disembark and see how his new duchy had progressed in his absence, promising to join Braedan in Dorshev before Doridan began its march to Tanaevar.
“You have my leave, Duke Gain,” Jack nodded.
“You have come a long way since our first meeting,” the young Duke grinned wryly.
“I’ll see you soon, Gain,” Jack smiled, shaking his hand.
They sighted the gleaming white walls of Dorshev near mid-afternoon. It took an agonizingly long time in Braedan’s mind for the Wind of Aeralnen to arrive at the city’s dock. By the time the ship was secured to its berth, a contingent of one hundred Knights of the White Horse had arrived to greet them, led by Rhyn Dunnahel himself. The Lord Marshal of the Knights was in full armor, all white and shining gold. He saluted Braedan crisply as he boarded the Wind, then bowed Doridanian fashion. “Welcome back, My Lord High King. Has my son been behaving?”
“Arrgenn is a true son of Doridan, Lord Marshall,” Jack nodded. “Quite an impressive looking bunch you brought with you. But it wasn’t necessary.”
“If I may, High King, you should change into your armor,” Dunnahel said in reply. Jack was dressed in his black and silver uniform of the Dragon Guard. Ailicia had insisted on nothing so common as the sturdy traveling clothes he had been wearing for the trip from Lordsisle.
“Is there trouble?” asked Jack, suddenly worried Graith had made another attempt on Anna’s life, despite Lord Faendil’s assurance.
“There will be if you do not do as Queen Annawyn has commanded,” the Lord Marshal informed him. Was there the ghost of a smile on his lips?
“Come,” Dorad said, laying a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I will help you. High King or not, you should learn to do as Anna says. It will make life much simpler.”
“Prince Dorad?” Dunnahel asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“Have I changed so much, Rhyn?” Dorad asked. It had been almost five years now since his exile from Doridan.
“Not in your…looks,” the Lord Marshal replied hesitantly. “But…now, I see your father i
n you. I grieve for your loss. He never stopped loving you.”
“And I never stopped disappointing him,” Dorad replied sadly. “Those days are gone, Rhyn. I will never dishonor Doridan again. Or father’s memory.”
Dunnahel nodded, as if he accepted the former prince’ words.
“Come King Jack,” Dorad said, “Best not to keep her waiting.”
“I will await you on the dock, High King,” the Lord Marshal bowed. “Your mount should be here soon.”
“I feel him already,” Jack smiled. Eaudreuil was near. And already begging for apples.
Jack changed as quickly as he could, Dorad helping him strap and buckle everything in place. Although he had grown accustomed to the plate, it was a tedious taste getting ready. When they emerged on deck, Braedan now dressed his blue armor with Yhswyndyr on his hip, he found the entire crew of the Wind had assembled. Arrinor and Ailicia had changed as well in the brief time it had taken him. No longer were they in the brown and greens of Ailfar warriors but clothing more befitting a son and daughter of Cilidon of Ail’itharain. Jack’s Golden Lions had also taken the opportunity to outfit themselves as officers of Brydium. The High King’s Hammer were resplendent in their white and silver. It was quite a sight. They all bowed as he passed them, Lady Ara’fael included.
“I suddenly feel under dressed,” Dorad sighed.
“I’m sure Anna won’t mind,” Jack assured him. “Let’s go meet my wife, shall we?”
Braedan was pleased to discover Duke Morgan had joined the Lord Marshal on the dock below, “Nice sword you have there,” he smiled, bowing to Jack.
“It’s come in handy already,” Jack shrugged.
“It has indeed,” Morgan replied. “The repairs on the tower have already begun.”
“This time, have the architect design it so it doesn’t look so much like a dragons’ perch,” Jack suggested.
“Hello Uncle,” Dorad said hesitantly, interrupting as he joined them. “I know I…was forbidden ever to return but…
Morgan smiled broadly and stepped forward to embrace the startled former prince. “You look well,” Morgan said releasing him. “Well indeed. Have no fear of reprisal. Your exile was revoked by Annawyn before she even sat on the throne. This is a happy day for our family.”
“When we have time, Uncle,” Dorad said quietly, “will you accompany me to father’s tomb?”
“Of course I will,” Morgan said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Ride with me, nephew? You can catch me up on your…travels, on the way to the palace.”
Other familiar faces were also waiting on the dock. Lancemaster Julian Brinn was there, holding Eaudreuil’s reigns. “High King,” he bowed. “I’ve brought your pony. We’ve tried our best to keep him fit while you’ve been away.”
“Hello you shaggy oaf,” Jack laughed reaching up to pat the roan’s broad neck.
“Horse-brother,” the Val’anna nickered, in greeting. “You have been gone a long time. Is that Bright Flame?”
“It is,” Jack nodded.
“Then you will not be leaving me behind again?”
“I will not,” Jack assured him. “We will have some riding to do soon. I hope you’ve been exercising?”
“I have,” Eaudreuil said, pawing the ground, anxious for him to mount.
Some nameless groom hurried forward and placed a sturdy stool on the ground for Jack to use, then with a quick bow, offered the High King his hand for support. As gracefully as he could manage in his armor, Braedan swung into the saddle. Regal carriages were even now arriving for the Staffclave, and mounts for all the others. Surveying the large gathering, Jack looked at Duke Morgan curiously. “What are you up to, Morgan?”
“Not me High King,” he smiled. “If you want to blame anyone for all this, talk to the Queen.”
“I had hoped…I don’t know, to just slip back to the palace unnoticed,” Jack remarked.
“I am afraid it is not going to be possible,” Morgan replied, his smile growing broader.
“There is no way we can…”
“None.” Morgan insisted.
Jack sighed with resignation. “Then let’s get this over with.”
“If you will follow me?” the Duke of Dorshev bowed.
“I know the way,” he replied, turning Eaudreuil towards the city. “I walked most of it the first time I was here.”
“I assure you, High King,” Morgan said, climbing on to his mount, “your…reception will be much different this time.”
As the assembly exited the dock, Braedan saw just how different Morgan meant. Throngs of excited spectators lined both sides of the streets. There would be not reading of trumped up charges and hurled insults today. At the sight of the Queen’s Champion and Swordmaster of Aralon’s in his blue armor, and seeing the Highsword Yhswyndyr on side, a hush fell over the sea of faces. Eaudreuil shook his mane and holding his head high, began to prance down the street. The thunderous cheer was like a wave washing over them.
“Show off,” Jack muttered.
Eaudreuil held his head higher.
It was like this all the way to the palace. There were almost two hundred thousand souls living in the capital city of Doridan and every one of them it seemed had turned out to see the new High King. Each person had a small, blue flag to wave or wore a blue armband or some other similar token. How all…this…had been put together so quickly, Jack could only surmise Perigaen had been keeping Lord Shaeron informed of their progress throughout their journey from Lordsisle. No other explanation was possible. Though he was embarrassed and humbled by the show, Jack knew Annawyn had arranged it to honor him in a way she felt he deserved. She had been raised from birth among such displays after all, while he had spent his most of his military career accustomed to private medal ceremonies and redacted award certificates so covered in black not much was readable but his name. When he acknowledged their adulation with the occasional nod, the cheers only grew louder. Braedan prayed if he lived through this, he would never grow to expect such honors.
With each step Eaudreuil took toward the palace, Braedan’s focus on the crowds grew less and less. Anna waited for him at the end of this journey. She was queen to this cheering throng, but to him she was the only reason Yhswyndyr rested on his hip. Sensing his impatient to be done with this display and reunited with Fire Mane, Eaudreuil strained to increase his pace. Jack somehow resisted the urge to allow the Val’anna to break into a gallop.
It was a difficult struggle indeed.
Reaching the walls of Ellgereth palace spelled a merciful end to the cheering crowds, but Jack found even more honors awaiting him. The dark blue and silver pinions of Doridan were flying from the battlements as always, but there was another blue standard upon wall as well, flying by their side. The light blue of Immer. As if sensing his approach, large banners with a flaming sword and three starred crown of the High King unfurled on each side of the palace gate. Lining each side of the broad avenue were more Knights of the White Horse. As one, they dipped their lances as Braedan approached, raising them again as he rode by.
Beyond the gate there were more soldiers assembled to greet the procession. On the left side were troops of the 2nd Home Guard. On the right, Jack was pleased to see men of the 18th Kings Rangers. Captain Braegil drew his sword and saluted him as he stopped Eaudreuil and returned the salute.
“Help me down, captain?” he asked, extending his hand. “It would be a shame if I fell on my face in front of your rangers.”
“Welcome back…High King,” the Ranger captain grinned, taking his hand as another Ranger broke ranks and helped his commander lower him from the saddle. “Things have been boring since you left.” Braegil continued when Jack was standing before him.
“Dragons and Krayga, boring?” Braedan asked, dubiously.
“The Krayga were barely worth the effort of getting out of bed,” Braegil shrugged. That the monsters had slain a dozen men and wounded as many more before being dispatched seemed hardly worth mentioning by the Rang
er. “And you somehow managed to slice up the na’Hhoul and chase off the dragon from half a world away. Next time, leave some entertainment for my boys.”
“Where are those who fell laid to rest?” Braedan asked. Though the Ranger hid it well, he knew Braegil probably felt as much responsible for each death, as he did himself.
“They were added to the garden memorial at the Queen’s insistence,” the Ranger replied. “Though the Master Gardener begs unless you mean to make the palace grounds a national cemetery, the fifty now interred should be the last.”
“I pray no more blood is spilled on this ground,” Jack replied. “Soon, I promise, we take the fight to the enemy.”
“I serve my queen,” Braegil replied, a gleam in his bright eyes, “But I look forward to the day she lets me fight under your banner.”
“Shall we go pay our respects?” asked Jack, “I am ready to get this pomp and circumstance concluded and get back to work.”
“You haven’t told him, your Grace?” Braegil asked as Duke Morgan joined them.
“I thought he’d would have gotten the hint by now,” Morgan shrugged.
“I am afraid, High King,” the Ranger grinned. “The…pomp and circumstance is only getting started.”
Jack did his best to muffle a groan.
At a signal from Braegil, the Rangers snapped to attention then hurried to take Eaudreuil and the rest of the companies mounts. The temperamental roan was apparently becoming accustomed to being led around by strangers. He offered no resistance at all to the Ranger who took his reigns with only a parting thought of, “You owe me apples Horse-brother.” Soldiers of the 2nd Home Guard helped the Lords from their carriages and formed an escort for the Staffclave, and the Ailfar. Rhyn Dunnahel and the Knights of the White Horse took their leave, their duty completed. As Captain d’Kenna assembled the Hammer as an honor guard for the High King, Kirk Vanar asked if he and the boys be excused to go visit with the rest of the Golden Lions.
“You’re going to leave to face this alone?” asked Jack.
“It is your day, High King,” Kirk smiled. “The Lions will celebrate with you privately another time.”
