Annatrice of Cayborne (23 page)

“I am full of gladness that your efforts were rewarded with such promise. The Kingdom is at peace and is coming to terms with news of the forthcoming unification. It is solely squared upon your shoulders; the magnificence of your achievements shall be written in lore and revered throughout the ages.”

The King was in fine form, Annatrice almost felt important.

“Now we must talk more about the future and what we can do to aid your search for contentment.”

Annatrice nodded and was grateful for the acknowledgement.

“I seek only the liberty of my sisters and my most cherished nanny who sustained me through dark days. I hope that the King will keep them in the lifestyle that they were born into and offer them the freedom to choose their own paths in life.”

The King laughed.

“Of course, let it be so. It is the very least I can do. They shall be offered every comfort.”

“Thank you Sire, t'is a great weight off my mind.”

The court room echoed and Deo Canthi was so high up on his perch that voices were raised in order to communicate.

“But what of you, heh? We must ensure that you are offered the brightest of futures, one wish satisfies your standing in our nation's hearts and of course your noble blood.”

Annatrice knew that the King was getting at something and Charleroux's presence was the tell tale sign that loose lips had been at work.

“Such is my esteem for you, shared with my peoples overwhelming gratitude that I offer you something so...magnificent, it could only be worthy of a soul such as yours, so heroic so...regal.”

Annatrice held her breath awaiting the King's wishes, she felt privileged by his noted esteem but ever so fearful that once again, she was going to be a tool to be used for the means of gaining or retaining power. Power was the only currency that King's used and understood. Tragian had been the same and she wondered what really set them apart at the end of the day. The answer was about to be made clear.

“Annatrice, I know you have met Petrus, my eldest son and heir to the Kingdoms of Suleyman and now Araman. I believe that it was not in the best of circumstances. That is unfortunate for he is a wise young man, full of kingly virtue. He is also without wife and frankly...none who have been offered are worthy of such a title...”

Annatrice's mouth fell open.

“You wish me to marry your son? But I am wed, t'is written in law!”

Annatrice looked over to Charleroux who shook his head smugly.

“Written in whose law? Mine! No, a piece of paper makes not a marriage. I shall tear it in two with my own hands. Charleroux has agreed the annulment and so it shall be done.”

“But Sire...” Annatrice stuttered and felt foolish.

“It was clear that your marriage was a sham, an arrangement for mutual benefit. That benefit has now been seen. Charleroux has increased wealth and stature in my court; you have fulfilled your vengeance and found great pride within the hearts of my people. There is only one more thing to do in order to establish your regal rights, you must marry Petrus. You will together rule the new unified lands of Suleyman and Araman and with your virtuotic powers, no doubt expand our influence across the Protathaian Isles. Can you not see that it is the most natural course of action?”

Annatrice was stunned. If it was power she craved, it was an offer of great magnitude which could not be denied, however Annatrice sought no power to rule, she sought the freedom to choose and Deo Canthi was bargaining to take that away from her.

“And what of Petrus? Does he wish to pursue this course?”

Annatrice looked at Petrus who shifted his weight around on his feet.

“My father's wisdom is beyond question.” His voice broke a little as he spoke, it was clear that his mind was not his own.

Annatrice held her hands to her face and delayed her answer.

“Annatrice...we need you at our helm. It is your destiny.” The King added. The pressure was mounting.

“No! It cannot be!” Annatrice spluttered as her inner strength once again welled and gave her the courage to be her own master.

“You promised me freedom and despite your best intentions, I shall find no freedom in this arrangement.”

The King looked to Petrus who looked sheepish. Charleroux's look of arrogance was replaced with frustration.

“This disappointing news aggrieves me...” The King said as he looked down to his lap.

“I shall not ask again nor will I beg of you, state your mind. Yay or nay?”

Annatrice swallowed hard.

“Nay, Sire.”

“Then leave us.” The King looked shattered by Annatrice's refusal as if his most treasured plans crumbled into the dust. Annatrice offered one last defiant glance at her husband before turning away and striding past the guards who stood at the entrance to the hallway beyond.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Annatrice returned to Marianne's chambers that morning and dwelt their till the evening. Comforted by Marianne who was confounded at her child's refusal to take the opportunity for wealth and power, she sat at the window staring out to the Cayborne hills as the sun disappeared behind their peaks.

In the castle, celebrations were in full swing, years of subservience to the tyrant had led the staff to break free from their most restrained shackles and crack open a cask or two. Music could be heard from the courtyard and people danced barefoot in the mud. The irony of the moment was not lost on Annatrice. Everyone had found their little piece of freedom apart from her. She knew she would never escape the bondage of her most profound abilities. The only one who did not cherish their qualities was Annatrice herself who had grown to despise them. The drone which had diminished in the remoteness of the country and had been limited by the recent pain was returning once more and Annatrice knew that it was only going to get worse as more people poured into the castle estate, their active minds emanating the all consuming cacophony that could not be escaped.

“Fetch me some wine?” Annatrice asked Marianne who was quite taken aback by the request. Marianne was delighted that Annatrice had seemingly thrown off the clouds of depression and sought to make merry. Dutifully, she returned with a flagon of dark, ruby red grape juice which Annatrice quickly guzzled. It was comforting that the wine had a similarly dulling effect, much like the Nerwarna of Suleyman. Annatrice found a little peace in the warming fermentation and a reassuring smile was enough for Marianne to know that everything was alright again.

Annatrice took to her bed that night with a numbness of the lips and a drowsy head. She fell asleep rapidly; she had not even managed to pull the clothes from her body. All the other girls had long since retired; they looked forward to the morning when they were promised an escorted ride to Karick with full purses, supplied by the new and gracious ruler.

Annatrice's slumber did not last the duration of the night. After a couple of hours she tossed and turned herself into waking and yearning a drink of water, she rose and walked to the day room. Taking a sip of cold refreshment, she once again opened the shutters of the window and looked out over the plains towards her childhood home. It was then that she realised that she had been too long in waiting for her freedom to come to her. If no one was to grant her the liberty she demanded, she would just take it.

Creeping back into the dormitory where the ladies slept soundly, she slipped on some sturdier shoes and collected her sheepskins which had barely dried out from her previous outing. Standing at the entrance of the dormitory, she blew a kiss to her cherished friends and offered a blessing for Marianne who snored loudly in an adjacent chamber. She skipped down the long and winding stairs, being sure to not attract any attention. The party earlier had long since ended and although the staff may have been addled by the liquor; the vigilant King's guard would not be sleeping at their posts tonight.

Heading out into the frosty air of the compound, she walked casually over to the stables and chose a small but well groomed pony. She strapped a saddle across its back with haste and led it out by its reins into the courtyard. She looked up to the ramparts and the twin towers that the gatekeepers kept. She thought to herself there and then that it would be a miracle if her plan to leave worked. Her mind still affected by the drink, she was not sure if she could coax a satisfactory reaction from the guards who now watched with interest as she trotted the grey horse to the outer perimeter.

“Where are you going?” A voice called down from on high. Annatrice cursed as she scraped along her skin with her well used dagger. There seemed little effect, the guards minds closed off and unreachable.

“Err...out for a ride.” She called back, unconvincing at best.

“T'is the King's orders that the gates remain sealed till sunrise.” The voice came again and Annatrice's pulse raced.

“I cannot sleep, I will return within the hour, long before sunrise.” Annatrice shook her head, there was a lengthy pause and she knew that the game was up. Suddenly, there was a creaking of wood and a clank of grinding metal. The gates were opening! Annatrice could not believe her amazing good fortune as she waved a thankful parting gesture and kicked her horse into a canter. The horse, glad to be free of its stable revelled in its midnight jaunt and Annatrice whooped an audible note of joy as the dark winds rushed through her hair and she took to the night, disappearing from the castles view in a matter of seconds.

The small hours of the night passed and eventually Annatrice slowed her mare to a halt as she realised she was hopelessly lost. A fine mist had risen over the course of the night and the most familiar horizon had of course changed, not aiding Annatrice's navigation one bit. She decided in her wisdom to wait for morning before continuing her journey. She was not yet sure where she was going and with what purpose but she loved precisely that fact. Finding a small but sturdy tree by a small stream, she tied her pony up and sat back against a smooth boulder, her bottom soaking up the sodden moisture of the spring grass.

Annatrice awoke before she even realised that she had fallen asleep. Her back so stiff and her clothes wet through, she pulled herself to her feet and arched her back, holding her hands high in the air.

“Morning Annatrice.”

Annatrice spun around to see four horses and atop of them, heavily armoured and masked soldiers bearing Deo Canthi's standard.

The mist still hung low against the turf and the air was cold and wet. Annatrice felt that this scene was familiar, it reminded her of her father's death and thus she was instantly fearful. Her head was still throbbing, addled by the wine to the point of dizziness; she had risen too quickly.

“I'm not going back!” She called out bravely. The situation was ominous, why would Deo Canthi send a search party so heavily armed for a diminutive young woman. How did they find her with such speed, it was barely light.

“I’m afraid in this case, you are absolutely right.” One of the knights lifted his visor and the terrible and most recognisable eyes of Drayk peered out at her.

“Oh, Gods, no!” Annatrice cried out knowing that her own King of whom she had once saved from death had ordered her assassination to protect his reign. Three of the four knights edged forward the other hung back as Annatrice looked around her desperately for some kind of escape. Her horse had gone, either untied by Drayk and his minions or she had just poorly secured it. Annatrice plucked the dagger from her jacket and as they approached and pricked her thigh with it as Drayk laughed moronically.

“Did you think that would work? Oh, I'm afraid we have thought of every eventuality. You did have rather a lot to drink last night did you not?” Drayk unsheathed his bastard sword and held it aloft.

“Do not kill her yet, I want her first. If I am feeling generous, you can share the spoils.” Drayk said sinisterly as he dismounted causing Annatrice to tremble, frozen to the spot. Even her intellect could not save her know, there was nowhere to run, she could not outpace the champion's steeds or outwit their humming blades.

Suddenly both Annatrice and Drayk's attention was turned to the other knights, one who lay upon the grass having crashed to the earth with a thud, the other being wrestled from his horse with a dagger impaled in his throat. The fourth rider then sat astride his stallion, pulling his giant sword from its sheath with the apparent intention of bringing an end to Drayk's foul existence.

Annatrice dove behind the cover of the large boulder and peered out over in simple confusion as the mysterious knight wielded his blade with great gusto. Having remained mounted, his was the battle to lose holding such great advantage.

Drayk flipped down his visor and repelled an initial strike; the blades coming together caused a crashing sound which took Annatrice's breath away. The movements of the fully battle armoured warriors were laboured; it was as if two giants were pounding at each other in a dream where time itself had slowed down. The mounted knight over-reached his next strike and a quick witted and experienced Drayk took the opportunity to wrestle his opponent from his horse and take him to the ground. The plate armour glistened in the morning light as arms and legs were sent flailing and the large cumbersome blades were now of no use. A shorter bladed dagger was drawn by one of the protagonists, Annatrice could not tell which soldier from the next and holding a blade herself, she debated whether to join the fray and strike whilst she was in a position of power. The warriors grappling continued as Annatrice watched over the battle, dagger poised for an opportunity to pain Drayk as he had done to her.