Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) (14 page)

He expected Mooregaard to congratulate him for his craftiness, his masterful strategy.  But instead, Mooregaard shook his head.

"What now?" Corigan said.  "Do you not agree this is the best way?"

"Not by my counsel, Sire.  May Your Majesty be reminded that prior to your 'dove's' ascent in stature, she was—how to put it delicately—? A mere concubine."

"What good is your counsel, anyway!  You are an old fool!   You sit around training young recruits to fight battles which you are too old and cowardly to fight yourself."

"Sire, with respect..."

"Ah!  That is why you disagree.  By your words, you profess a desire to spare the innocents, and only spill the blood of their wicked monarchy.  But in fact, you are a coward.  Yes, that's what you are, a coward!"

Bristling at the charge, Mooregaard held his composure, drawing a tight line with his lips.  Finally he said, calmly, "Please it Your Majesty, to indulge me as I speak my mind with candor."

"It pleases My Majesty to hear nothing less than the truth!" Corigan was somewhat embarrassed at his own outburst, but too proud to let it show.

"Admittedly, I know not who this dove of yours is.  But you can see why I am skeptical about anyone wielding such influence over the monarchy of the East.  They are like stone, unmovable."

"And since when have you become such an expert at Tianese policy?"

"As you have permitted your servant to speak freely, may I remind Your Highness that I have many years more experience dealing with—"

"It matters not, old friend."  Corigan placed his hand on Mooregaard's shoulders, unwilling to risk his friendship over something he knew Mooregaard would not dare oppose, regardless.  "For all my years as king, I have trusted you."

"I am honored."

"And now, my dear Lord Mooregaard, trusted counselor, friend of my father and mother, I ask that you trust me."

He held Corigan's gaze with severity.  And then a smile stretched like a stream across the barren wastelands of his countenance.  "You have my trust, Sire."

"My dove will come to me soon, and all shall be set in place."

"How soon?"

"In a fortnight."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sir Edwyn drove forward with angry steps.  Render barely managed to step out of the way.  The heavyset scholar brushed by and bent down to retrieve the book and the box.

"The key, if you please."

Render stared, standing still as a sculpture.  Words failed.  His back became drenched with perspiration.

"The key!"

Startled, Render stood, felt his pants and pockets.  Finally, he found it and handed it to his mentor.

Sir Edwyn snatched it out of his hand. "You've no business going through my personal effects!"

Staring at his feet, Render said, "I didn't realize—"

"Had this been someone else's quarters, would it make ransacking and breaking open their locked belongings any more acceptable?"

"No, but—"

"Sir, Edwyn, please."  Stewan stepped forward, his voice trembling.  "It was my fault."

Render turned an incredulous eye to him.  "You had no part in this, Stew."

"Yes, I did."

Folen stepped forward.  "If anyone is to blame, it's that idiot Branson."

"But I provoked him," Stewan said.  "In fact, since we arrived at Castle Mittelvald...Oh, bother him!  For all his nasty insults, he deserved it.  But yesterday, I said something about his father not caring enough to stay home to raise him.  And rather than strike me, he walked away and cried, I think."

Edwyn placed his book in the box and locked it.  "I can hardly believe that."

"It's true.  So today, he repays it by leading us here and locking us in.  If I hadn't been so cruel to him, none of us would be here now."

"No," said Folen.  "I am to blame.  I chased the lout and made Render come with me.  And I encouraged Render to open the box."

"You are all trying to take the blame for that which is my own doing."  Render put his hands on their shoulders.  "I let my curiosity get the best of me, Sir Edwyn.  I ignored Stewan's warnings not to touch your belongings.  I alone should be punished."

Without a word, Edwyn shoved his wrapped box under his bed, pocketed the key and went over to the library where he replaced the books that had been removed from the shelf.  Render and the twins followed him and waited.

How he wished his mentor would say something.  Chide him, berate him, anything but silence.  Instead, Sir Edwyn went about tidying the library, inspecting his bedchamber.

When he could stand it no more, Render stood directly in Sir Edwyn's path and said, "You're angry.  I understand."

"I am...disappointed."

If there were anywhere to crawl, Render would have preferred it than to face his mentor's downcast gaze.  He waited until Edwyn finished pacing around before he spoke again.

"It shall never happen again," Render said.  "I promise."

Sire Edwyn stared and said nothing.  And then, with a deep breath he sat at the desk.  "Render, it would be disingenuous of me to represent myself as one who had never made a youthful blunder or indiscretion.  But you must never come into my quarters again, nor attempt to read my books, without my consent."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, then.  This matter is hereby laid to rest."  He stood and turned to the twins, who out of instinct stepped back.  "The two of you may report to Lady Justina for your music lessons."

They were gone before Render could bid them good day.

"Sir Edwyn," Render said, mustering up the courage to match his curiosity.  "That book—"

Edwyn grunted in disapproval.

"It's special isn't it?"  Render's voice began to rise with excitement.  "I can tell, not just because how you guard it, but because of the pictures.  Mount Handara.  And the words.   When I read the verses of Valhandra—"

"Quiet!"  Edwyn rose to his feet and glanced over to the door which had been left ajar.  He stepped over and with great care, shut it tight.  "Do not ever utter that name again."

"Valhan-"

"I said, do not speak it."

"But why?"

The otherwise formidable scholar wiped the sweat from his upper lip and glanced around the room.  Then out the window and then to the door.

"Your combat exams begin in ten minutes," Edwyn said and pointed out the window.  "You'll go up against one of The Lord Mooregaard's best fighters."

"Who is Lord—?  Sir Edwyn, please.  Won't you tell me why the name of Valhandra—?"

"No!" Edwyn spun around with such tension in his face, Render thought he might scream.  "Now get your armor and sword.  You know full well what this exam means."

There could only be one victor in this match.  And the one who lost would either be expelled from the training program, or worse, killed.

"I know what it means to you," Render said.  "Your pride."

"If you fail, all I can do is appeal to the council that you be reassigned to train as a candlemaker or cobbler's apprentice.  None of those tracks afford the opportunities for painting, music, or poetry."

Of course, Sir Edwyn was right, but Render felt he was at the cusp of a breakthrough.  "I know what's at stake," he said.  "I only want to know—"

"You must prepare for your exam."

"Not until you tell me."

"Now!"

So close.  Edwyn would soon relent.  Render could tell.  "I'll keep repeating that name if you don't answer my question."

"Don't be a fool."

Render began with a whisper.  "Valhandra."

Edwyn's face flushed red.

"Valhandra, Valhandra!"

Then to Render's astonishment, Edwyn grabbed him and slapped his hand over his mouth.  "Stop it at once," he hissed.

Eyes wide, Render nodded.  When Edwyn released him, Render said, "Please, at least tell me why that name is so terrible."

With no apparent recourse, Edwyn sighed and said, "It is because of Valhandra that my parents were killed."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Even at the tenth hour, the sun beat down on Render through his chain mail shirt, which hung heavy on his shoulders.  The shield he held bore the insignia of Castle Mittelvald, and made his hand sore even before arriving at the testing ground.

As he and Sir Edwyn approached Hawthern Fountain, Render noticed that a small crowd had gathered. "What are they all doing there?"

"Never mind them," Edwyn replied.  "Fix your attention on your exam."

Render's ill-fitting helmet slipped down over his eyes.  He adjusted it and realized just how slick his hand had become.  No matter how much he'd practiced, combat was the last thing he wished to involve himself with.  Alas, it was a compulsory examination for all who trained.  Even Sir Edwyn, in his youth must have successfully passed it.

"Why won't you tell me who my opponent is?" Render said just as they arrived at the cobblestone plaza, where streams of water flowed from the sculpture of a large bird of prey, clutching a fish in its talons.

"You shall see soon enough."  Edwyn fixed Render's belt, adjusted his breastplate and tried in vain to set the helmet such that it would not move with each turn of the head.  "I did not wish to cause you any undue anxiety."

"The suspense has done wonders to calm me," Render said with an ironic grin.

"You're better off with suspense than fear."

"So I ought to be afraid?"

"That is not my point."

"Then what is—?"

"Render!"  A voice which he had not heard for so long caused his heart to rush.  He turned to see a young man, approaching with an aristocratic Lord clad in black sleeves under his chain mail.  The young man removed his visor and right away, Render ran up to him.

"Kaine!  I can't believe it's you!"

"And just look at you." Kaine grinned, and somehow looked different than he'd remembered.  "You look a head taller in that armor."  He wrapped one arm around Render's neck and rapped his fist on his helmet affectionately.

"What a surprise," Render said, freeing himself and shoving his older brother's shoulder.  "What's it been, a month, two?"  Guilt weighed his heart down like a wet cloak.  He'd been such a beast the last time he'd seen him, blaming him for withholding the truth about Mother.  Kaine had been right to protect Render's memories of her.  As infuriating as he could so often be, Kaine had been a great brother. 

"Well now," Lord Mooregaard said as he dismounted his horse, which to no one's surprise, was black, as well.  He spread his hands wide and smiled.  "I am loathe to disrupt this reunion, but as the esteemed Sir Edwyn would agree, we are here to conduct the combat exams for you both."

With that sobering statement, all the joy at seeing Kaine faded.  Render began to feel ill at the realization. 

"I have to fight Kaine?"

Edwyn nodded.

It should not be a fight to the death, nor to any significant injury, hopefully.  But the thought of losing his chance to study the arts and letters?  He must not fail.  If only he'd devoted more time to his combat training.

"Well, Rend?" Kaine punched him in the arm.  It hurt.  "Ready to have your rump carved?"

Render bumped him back with his shield and laughed, trying to conceal his apprehension.  "Just watch your own."  He stepped back and saw that the crowd had pressed in closer.  Eager faces looked on, some smiling with missing teeth, others refined and clean.

Lord Mooregaard's voice faded into the background as he announced the rules of engagement.  An odd sensation coursed through Render's body.  Sitting atop the sculptured hawk, was the black cat that had been sleeping on his pillow since the night she climbed into his room.  She gazed intently with bright eyes.

Just then, interrupting the formalities and Lord Mooregaards endless words, a crazed voice broke through the crowd.  "Oh, I am blessed!" shouted an old man in a tattered brown robe.  He looked over to the plaza where Render and his brother stood, now facing each other.  "At long last." He looked to Kaine, then to Render.  "To see you!  The two of you!"  Before he could utter another sound, one of Mooregaard's guards quietly took him by the arm and led him away.

"On the third count," Mooregaard said, full of pomp, "You are to engage without pause until only one of you is left standing."  He regarded Sir Edwyn as he continued.  "Limbs are fair game.  You are to spare your opponent's life only.  Understood?"

Render and Kaine nodded.

The crowd seemed to hold their collective breath.

Render had to win, it was as simple as that.  He didn't know if Kaine shared the same ambitions or if any of this mattered to him as much.  But it didn't matter.  Render's future depended on this.

"On three."  Mooregaard stood tall and began the count.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“...Two

...Three!"

On Mooregaard's mark, Kaine lunged at his brother and cut at his right arm with all his might.  His lack of hesitation surprised him.  But Render turned swiftly and blocked the blow with his shield.

The crowd cheered. 

Render faltered.

As soon as he regained his footing, Render's sword came flying out at Kaine's face.  Kaine parried the blow with his broadsword.  Whirling his entire body around, he slammed his shield into Render's side.

Render fell on his side this time and groaned.

Without a moment to spare, Kaine stepped on Render's right hand.

Render's sword clanked onto the cobblestone.

"Come now, little brother," said Kaine, bending over his face.  "That was too quick, too easy."

From beneath the shadow of Render's visor, a smile emerged.  Distracted, Kaine didn't see his brother swing his shield at his head.

Dizzied by the blow, Kaine reeled.  For a moment he could not see a thing.  His ears rang.  Without thinking, he threw off his helmet and put a hand over the ear that had been struck.

A heavy blow caught him in between the shoulders.