Terrible Beast of Zor (2 page)

Ferrod hesitated. Then he nodded. “And you,” he said, “will be the queen.” He saw the approval in her eyes.

T
he small ballroom was packed to capacity. In one corner a group of four musicians plied their instruments, spilling music into the room. The friends of Prince Alexander were gathered to find whatever pleasure was available.

“Prince Alex, drink up!”

The speaker was a beautiful girl. She carried a tray of golden goblets filled with wine and held it out to the prince.

Young Prince Alex took a cup, then said, “You always bring me luck, Sophie. Stand by me while I win the money of all these so-called gamblers.”

The prince was seated at a table with four men. As they continued to play, the gold began to flow from the prince to those who sat around him.

“Your good luck is bad today, Prince Alex,” one of the players said. He was a small man with bright brown eyes and pale skin. Like the others, he was richly dressed. He wagged his head in mock sadness. “If you were not the prince, you would have been bankrupt long before now.”

“Vain, that’s one of the advantages of being a prince.”

Laughter went up around the table.

The man Vain had just said, “I propose a toast,” when the door swung open, and everyone turned to look. The prince—and probably all the others—expected to see another of his friends.

The newcomer was Alcindor.

Vain suddenly grew very watchful. “Hello, Alcindor,” he said loudly. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to join our party.”

Alcindor was wearing the green-and-gold uniform of the royal guard. His sword was at his side, and a leather strap crossed his breast.

“No, I have not come to join your gambling party, Vain. I am here on assignment from the king.”

The room fell silent, and Alexander thought Vain’s face paled a little.

Vain started to speak, but the prince interrupted him.

“Oh, sit down, Alcindor!” he said. “You never have any fun! Don’t you have anything to do but play soldier?”

Alcindor’s eyes swept the room in a look of disgust.

The prince well knew that his father’s aide had never had any patience with Alexander’s friends. He always claimed they followed after the prince for what they could get out of him. But Alex did not believe that.

Alcindor ignored the others and spoke directly to the prince. “You are summoned to appear before the king, Prince Alexander.”

Alexander blinked rather stupidly. It took a moment for the meaning of the tall soldier’s words to become clear. He glanced across the table at Vain, who winked at him and said, “My, it sounds as if you’re going to get a spanking from your papa.”

“Enough of that, Vain!” Alcindor said almost fiercely.

“Now you wait a minute!” the prince said. “Don’t talk to my friends that way, Alcindor.”

“I didn’t come to talk to your friends. I came to escort you to the king.”

Alexander was aware that everyone was watching. They had teased him before about being brought to heel by his parents, and he felt his face flush.

“I’ll be along after a time, Alcindor,” he muttered. He turned back to the table. “Now, let’s play cards.”

Alcindor’s voice cut through the room like a sharp knife. “The king commands me to bring you now, Prince!”

“I said I would come later! Now, get out of here!”

Alcindor’s lips grew tight, and his eyes glinted. “My prince, you force me to do this. You will either come peaceably, or I will take you forcibly.”

“You cannot force me to do anything!”

“I am the servant of King Alquin, the monarch of this kingdom,” Alcindor said. He stepped forward and towered over Alexander. “His orders are to bring you at once! And, specifically, if you will not come of your own will, I am to bring you under guard.”

Alexander pushed back his chair and stood up. He glared at the aide. “You wouldn’t dare touch me!”

Alcindor took another step forward and gripped his arm. “I’m sorry that you will have it no other way, but you are going to see the king. Now.”

Vain suddenly lunged out of his chair. “Turn him loose!” he shouted. “This is treason!”

Alcindor’s fist moved swiftly, and the prince saw Vain fly backward. He crashed into a table loaded with silver trays and dishes and cups of wine, and a tremendous clatter followed.

“Do any of the rest of you care to protest?” Alcindor asked quietly. He looked about almost hopefully, but the sudden and absolute devastation of Vain apparently stopped them. Nobody moved to help the fallen man, who was lying as still as if he had been struck with a mace.

“I didn’t think so,” Alcindor said. “Come, Prince Alexander. The king awaits you.”

“Wait a minute—”

But Alexander had no choice. The powerful hold on his arm was enough, and he felt himself dragged from the room, stumbling and almost losing his balance.

“Take the prince’s arms and follow me!” Alcindor ordered the two soldiers who waited at the door. The command was curt. “If he falls, pick him up and carry him!”

The soldiers’ strong grip dragged Prince Alexander against his will out of the tavern and into the street. He was unhappily aware that people were watching. “Alcindor, I’ll go with you. You don’t have to drag me.”

“Release the prince,” the aide said at once. He fixed his cold gaze on Prince Alexander and said, “The king is waiting. I am glad you have seen fit to listen to reason—for once.”

In their private quarters, King Alquin and Queen Lenore listened to Dethenor as he spoke urgently.

“I know that we are apprehensive about the armies of Zor,” Dethenor said.

“We are,” the king answered. “Do you truly think we can hold them back?”

“For a time. But only for a time. They have many men, and only the excellence of our archers at the passes has kept us safe thus far.”

“A long time ago,” King Alquin said, “I realized that good archers would be our only protection from the Zorians—since we are so outnumbered. Fortunately, we have the finest archers in NuWorld.”

“That is true, Your Majesty, and until now they
have been our salvation. But I must tell you that there are rumors …” He paused at that point and looked worried.

“What kind of rumors?” the king demanded.

“They are very vague. But we have heard that the Zorians have developed some sort of secret offense. A weapon, you could call it—perhaps under the direction of the Dark Lord. That would not surprise me.”

“A better kind of bow? Our bows are the best that can be made.”

“I do not know, Your Majesty. I simply have heard from one of our reliable agents that they have developed
something
that will be difficult for our archers to defend against. I think what we must—” Dethenor broke off as a knock came at the door.

“Come in!” the king called.

It opened, and Alcindor entered, accompanied by an unusually subdued-appearing prince.

“Did he come willingly, Alcindor?” the king asked.

The aide hesitated, and then a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Yes, after he understood the situation, Your Majesty.”

“What does this mean, Father?” Alexander asked peevishly. “Why have you had me brought here like a criminal?”

“My orders to Alcindor were to let you know that I wished your presence. If you had obeyed of your own free will, that would have been very simple,” the king said sternly.

Alex dropped his head, and Alquin thought a look of shame briefly swept across his son’s face.

“Well,” the prince muttered, “I’m here. What’s the purpose of your summons?”

King Alquin studied his son. He loved the boy
dearly but was afraid that he had failed him as a father. He had been gone to the wars most of Alexander’s childhood and had not given him the example he should have. He regretted that now, but there was no way to change what had already happened.

“You are eighteen years old, Alex,” the king said. “And I have decided that your life is worthless.”

Alexander flushed and straightened up as though he had never been talked to like this before. “I resent that, Father!” he said furiously.

“And I resent the life that you lead! You are a prince, and the kingdom is in grave danger. I have brought you here to tell you that from this point on your life will be different.”

“Different! And what does that mean?” Alex demanded.

“There will be no more drinking, no more gambling, no more parties. That bunch of leeches that follows you around, and whom you cannot see for what they are, will be dismissed from the capital. You will become a soldier and endure all the hardness of a soldier.”

Alquin saw the rebellion flaring in his son’s eyes and was not surprised. The queen herself was silent, but the king continued talking, and he did not soften his words. “You are a disgrace to the royal family, Alex! I am ashamed of you! You are no son of mine until you prove yourself so!”

Prince Alexander might have been wise to bow his head and surrender to the king’s demands. But it appeared that a lifetime of getting his own way was going to prevent that. He stood straight and said angrily, “I will do exactly as I please, and you will not treat me as if I were a commoner!”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes!”

“Alcindor,” King Alquin said, “the prince will be confined to his quarters until further notice. Take him there now. He will receive no visitors; he will not be allowed to leave.”

“Wait! You can’t do that to me!”

“You will see what a king can do. Take him, Alcindor!”

Alcindor escorted the prince out as Alexander attempted to fight him off. His strength was no match, however, for the strength of the stalwart soldier. The prince’s angry voice was still echoing from the hall after the door closed.

Queen Lenore arose then and went to her husband. She stood behind him and put both hands on his shoulders. “Try not to feel too bad, Alquin. It is my fault as much as yours. We both have spoiled him.”

Heavily the king nodded. “And what are we to do now?”

The queen hesitated. Then she said firmly, “I think we must send for help.”

“Military help? There is none.”

“I think our problem is not mostly a military one. It is something else. I think we should send for Goél.”

King Alquin lifted his eyes. Thoughts raced through his head. He was heartbroken over the rebellion of his only child. He truly wanted help. And now he whispered, “Yes. Send a courier at once and ask Goél if he will come and help us.”

“What sort of visitor are you talking about?”

The servant of Count Ferrod did not answer for a moment. He was a thin man with pale, shifty eyes. “I do not know how to describe him. He is not from here. He
has come on a long journey, he says, and he demands to see you.”

“What name did he give?”

“He gave no name, but he said Count Ferrod would want to see him.”

“Well, show him in.”

Ferrod leaned back in his chair and glanced over at his wife. “Who do you suppose
this
is?”

Countess Grenda said, “Probably someone wanting a favor. We get plenty of those.”

However, when the door opened and the visitor entered, the count knew that this man had not come to beg favors. He was tall and powerfully built, and the hood that was thrown back from his black cloak revealed a thin, dark, strong face. He gave them a brief time to study him before saying, “My name is Rondel.”

“What is your purpose with us—Rondel?”

“I have come to do you a great favor.” Rondel had a black mustache and neat black beard. His skin was dead white in contrast, and there was something even dangerous looking about him. Count Ferrod found himself becoming a little uneasy. “Is your business political or personal?”

“Both,” Rondel said at once.

“It must be one or the other,” the countess snapped. When the man turned his cold gaze on her, she appeared to have a moment of fear. But she quickly recovered and said, “State your purpose or leave us.”

“I will indeed do so, Countess.” Rondel moved closer, and his voice dropped. “What I have to say is for your ears only. Not even your closest friends or servants must know.”

“What can be this mysterious business you have with us?” Ferrod asked curiously.

“The kingdom of Madria is doomed.” “That is treason to speak so!” the count gasped. “You cannot say that!”

“You said as much in the Council this morning, did you not?”

“How did you know what I said in Council?”

“I know many things, but it is not necessary to share with you how I know. What is my purpose? I have come to give you an opportunity to save yourself and to rise above your present position.”

Ferrod and his wife exchanged quick glances. “What are you saying, Rondel?”

“I will tell you the truth. I serve the Dark Lord.” A chill passed over the count. He had heard of the Dark Lord of NuWorld. He knew the Dark Lord’s power was creeping over the land. He also had heard of the one called Goél, who fought against it. And he knew that the king and queen had, in fact, put their trust in Goél. “I will not listen to you. It is treason.”

“It is wisdom,” Rondel said. “The kingdom of Madria cannot stand. Your powers shrink every day, while those of the Dark Lord grow. His shadow is long, and it will grow longer. Soon the mountain passes will be taken. You will look out that window one day and see in the streets the soldiers of Zor, wearing the sign of the Dark Lord on their breasts. Then all will be lost.”