The Falcon and The Stag
Page 5
Paradon’s heart was thundering in his ears and he stared into the dark pools of his brother’s eyes. Hatred as he had never felt before screamed at him to strike, to kill the man on the floor. He had let their father be poisoned. He had turned soldiers against the crown. All of these things. He wasn’t Temrod anymore. He was a monster.
Fear flashed in the eyes as Paradon gripped his sword in both hands, raising it to strike and…
A scream brought the surroundings back to life. The only scream that could make him stop. The broken scream of heartbreak. “Paradon!”
He looked up and saw dark eyes, so like his, like Temrod’s, overly bright with tears. Cavian was struggling to restrain Athina while, several yards away, Kiva was holding back her desperate husband. She stared at him, face pale, lines of grief starting to track down her face, and went limp in Cavian’s arms. Surprised by her change, the knight stumbled, this time struggling to keep her from melting to the floor. “Paradon,” this time her voice was a whisper, “please, Paradon. Not our brother…please.”
Paradon looked back at Temrod’s face and his heart shattered in his chest. There was the boy who would throw stones into the moat, the boy who would make arrows from sticks, and cried in frustration when he fell off his pony.
Taking a step back, Paradon threw his sword to the floor, disgusted with himself. “Temrod,” Paradon said, his voice low and dangerous. “You have one hour. One hour to collect your horse, your saddle, your bridle, and ride. At the end of that hour, my knights will hunt you.”
“And what of my men,” Temrod asked, his face sneering as he pulled himself to his feet, panting and refusing to meet Paradon’s eyes. “Will they ride with me? Are they granted the hour?”
Paradon glanced toward the crowd. His brother’s men were evident in their uncomfortable shifting, the way their eyes burned with loathing. “No,” he said, at last, looking again at his brother. “They aren’t granted the hour. Your men, the traitors of this castle who have plotted against my reign since before our father’s death? They can live their lives in the work they have done, they and their families are banished to the tunnels.”
Temrod looked up, horror crossing his features. “The tunnels?”
“Yes,” Paradon growled. “From there, I do not care where they go. Each will be branded a traitor and, should they return to the castle, should they be caught above ground, they shall be executed.”
The crowd around Paradon shifted. He saw Kiva, now free of Athina’s husband, silently order his men to start gathering the traitors together, freeing them of the weapons they carried and herding them into a corner of the room. He couldn’t bring himself to see the faces of the soldiers he had condemned. They and their families… but he couldn’t let them free. Not before the court. Not after what they had done.
“Very well,” Temrod hissed at last. He made to grab his sword but Cavian shook his head.
“Leave the blade, Temrod, it’s Alamore steel and not yours any longer,” Cavian barked.
Temrod snarled and spun, pushing through the crowd and out the double doors. No one made to follow him.
Finally, Paradon turned to Athina. Her husband had her gripped tightly in his arms and she was weeping silently into his shoulder. He didn’t disturb them. He would have his time to explain everything to his sister; the assassin, the Right of Blood…the Right of Blood.
He turned to Cavian, waving him forward. “How did you know?” he asked the knight quietly.
Cavian grimaced. “The Hall of Records. Right of Blood had been freshly written on one of the documents but it didn’t belong there. I’ve been studying those papers since, trying to piece together what exactly Right of Blood was and what your brother was planning. If, even, he was. It wasn’t until today when I was on patrol and a soldier demanded to know my loyalties that it was confirmed. I didn’t want to accuse Temrod without proof and it was my proof. When I got back I rushed to you and…”
“And I was the fool who nearly died,” Paradon laughed coldly. “So, then why do we have a Right of Blood?”
“Because, years ago,” Cavian explained as they started toward the Earl, protectively guarding the group of traitors with his green-clad men, “there was a civil war. The war was between those loyal to the first Prince and those loyal to his brother. The country was nearly destroyed, and, in the end, the people stopped fighting and started to rise against both brothers. The army commanders told the brothers they would need to find a way to decide the crown King without spilling more Alamore blood. So they decided, by Right of Blood, that they would fight for the crown.”
“And the older one won?” asked Paradon, grinning.
Cavian grimaced again, looking apologetic. “Actually, he died within moments. It turned out he wasn’t great with a sword.”
“Your Majesty, King,” Kiva, bowed his head respectfully and Paradon started at the title. “We should carry your orders out immediately,” Kiva intoned in his deep voice. He glanced around and lowered his voice further. “You do not want to start your Kingship by showing any more mercy than you have to your brother. Hesitation now shall be seen as weakness.” The Earl’s eyes were full of sympathy, but his face was set.
“I am still Prince, Earl. But, very well,” sighed Paradon. “We shall brand and banish these men…but before I am crowned. I do not want this evil to be the first act of my Kingship.”
Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Temrod could see his wife and imagine her expression – beautiful, brown-haired, her chin lifted in her defiant way, her blue eyes sparkling – standing in the courtyard with the three boys below. They played with sticks as though they were swords and she ordered them about like the commanding Queen she was. He sighed, running a hand over his hair. Out of habit, he lifted his eyes to the west. He could almost imagine that he could see the banner waving, the silver stag, the three gold bars, the sapphire backdrop. But it was impossible. Even so, the hate rose at the thought, aged with years, with rants, with battle strategies that he and his wife had devised against his brother’s armies. For years, they had hoped their oldest would one day be so fortunate as to still inherit Alamore but then Paradon had wed a girl he had met at another wedding, the wedding of the accursed knight Cavian, now Count of Lonnac.
Paradon had a son now, another child on the way from what the spies had gleaned…the few spies that had slipped from the tunnels, half deranged by their exile, living like animals in the earth. He shuddered at the thought of what he had left his first loyal subjects to face. But, again, it had been necessary. A necessary evil.
He heard the laughter of the boys below and looked down again, lips pressing thin. He would raise them to know their enemies, to know what was theirs, and how they must take it. He would raise them to strike back and, when the time was right, his crown would be passed down. He could imagine his oldest son, a man, a swordsman with blue eyes that flashed dangerously, rising to become King of Alamore and Thornten. He would, someday, rise against a future King of Alamore. He would defeat him and, blood dripping from his sword, at last, be the one to combine the two banners; the Falcon and the Stag.
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Also by C J R Isely
Ranger of Kings
The tale of Alamore continues…
The tunnels will open again tonight. This time, we’re not strong enough to stop it.
Will has always dreamed of becoming a knight. Stuck as a lowly village boy with no dreams or aspirations, when he’s summoned to train as a squire in the mighty castle of Alamore, it seems too good to be true. He’s determined to prove himself to the other squires that he trains with every day.
But there’s much more to becoming a knight than meets the eye. After stumbling upon a secret network of passageways hidden beneath the castle, Will uncovers a group of long-forgotten enemies of the crown. As old alliances with other k
ingdoms begin to fracture and their uneasy peace comes to an end, Will finds himself thrust headlong into a brewing war—and he soon realizes that more than luck brought him to Alamore.
Will must unravel the secrets lurking in the shadowy halls of Alamore and find a way to stop a seemingly inevitable war. But the answer lies with a man even more mysterious than the passages he roams. A man known as the Ranger of Kings…