The Faerion (29 page)

"Your father and Treteste diverted food and gold from our merchants. You would be giving us much that should have been ours."

Estes looked the old man in the eyes.

"Well then. That is a different matter. If we adjust the annual amount to one sixteenth?"

"It is acceptable."

"Good. If fortune shines on me I shall be crowned within the week. I shall send for you and seal our agreement officially after I am king."

"You are fair, Prince Estes. I offer Godspeed on your coronation. I would wish to discuss many things with your highness." He turned to Apal.

"Tagera, you are a scoundrel."

"Good to see you, too, Armas."

"You have done it, then? Prince Estes possesses the throne?"

"Only a matter of time before Treteste is behind us."

"He was the only reason I decided to attack. Otherwise, we would have begged."

"Yeates might not have given you anything if you appeared weak," said Tagera.

"No," agreed Estes. "Father would not have helped you. I know that now."

Tagera patted Estes on the back. "It is a fine beginning."

Bells pealed throughout the town. Flowers floated from the white walls to the victors approaching the gates. Sir Kirkes rode without helm. His forehead bloody, but his strength allowed no waver. Somehow Tagera found several tankards of ale on the battlefield and they firmed up Kirkes's spine tremendously.

He entered through the gates, Estes at his side. The people cheered Kirkes; then the young man accompanied him was recognized. The people cried out Estes' name, calling for him to be king. Runners went to the castle to warn Treteste, but he already rode his horse toward the procession. In his haste, the king rode without guards. Spittle hung to his chin. Kirkes noticed the rider thundering through the streets toward them. Kirkes touched Estes' shoulder and pointed.

Treteste drew his sword, spurred his horse and rode hard down the streets; his face contorted in rage. He screamed at Estes and Kirkes, but they both looked at each other, unable to understand the words. Estes shrugged.

"This battle is yours, Prince Estes," said Kirkes. "Win and you are king, fairly won. The crown returns to your family in the eyes of the people of Nantitet. There would be no doubt; the right to rule through strength of arms. Listen to the voices of the people of Nantitet. They want you as king. Kill Treteste fairly and you will be king."

Estes looked into Kirkes eyes, his own face grim.

"I will win," he said flatly. "I shall earn the crown and work for my people's trust and respect."

Kirkes grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "I ask no less. Godspeed."

Estes rode to meet Treteste. His grim face troubled Treteste who slowed his horse.

"Traitor!" cried Estes at the top of his lungs. All the people heard his words. "You plotted against the throne of Nantitet for years and murdered my father. Your actions have cut you from our family. Whatever blood we share has been tainted by the blackness of your soul. I deny kinship with you! Taste the steel blade of justice!"

They met in the square and the concussion buckled Treteste's horse. Estes struck Treteste on the shoulder. Treteste grimaced and tried to turn his horse as Estes rode into him again and tore open his chest with a slicing blow. Even as the horse toppled, Treteste dropped his sword and clutched his bloody jerkin. The horse tipped Treteste to the ground; his leg trapped under the horse. It rolled off him, regaining its feet, but Treteste lay there. Estes looked down upon his father's killer. In his mind he saw his father's head rolling on the ground and the sound of Treteste's laughter. He could not squeeze out the sound. He bit his lip until it bled. His blood flowed hotly in his veins and his head began to pound. Rage such as he never knew filled him and he raised his sword, his arm shaking with anger. Unbidden, an image of Deenie came to him. Her soft eyes penetrated his anger blowing it away like candle smoke. He smiled as she smiled. The crowd screamed for blood, but Estes' heart beat cold for violence. He wanted to see Deenie. Only Deenie. He turned away and rode back toward Kirkes.

"Come back and fight!" yelled Treteste. He tried to regain his footing, but his leg was broken. A man rushed forward from the crowd and slit Treteste's throat and vanished back into the crowd. No one tried to stop him or even get a good look at the assassin. The king lay dying in the street as his people stood and cheered. Estes rode back to the street where Deenie waited.

"He has grown," said Tagera.

"Yes, I am pleasantly surprised," said Kirkes. "They may be some potential there yet."

The feast following the coronation of King Estes was open to all, regardless of their rank. Many nobles thought it foolish to allow the common population of Nantitet to mix with the lords of Calendia but Estes could not be convinced otherwise and he shared the absurd notion with Lord Tagera and Sir Kirkes who insisted the King's wishes be enforced. The nobles shook their heads and whispered amongst themselves. That they should have lived to see such times was a tragedy.

There had been little opposition to Estes' claim to the crown. Nobles lined up to gain an audience with the newly crowned king but Tagera stood at his side to advise Estes as he met each noble. No advantages were gained this day.

"May your reign be long and glorious, sire," said Lord Daass.

"Thank you, Lord Daass. I am glad you could join us this evening."

"I do Cothos's bidding, and here I shall join with all the people of Nantitet. It is a rare treat to mingle all the classes in one gathering. I do not believe it has been done before. Unfortunately, there are a great many people who do not appreciate your vision. I do appreciate it, I assure you. I offer my services to you, sire. I shall be delighted to advise you on spiritual matters when you so desire it."

"Thank you, Lord Daass," said Estes. "I shall look forward to it."

Daass bowed and moved away. Tagera watched him until he was out of sight.

"Watch him closely, sire. He is as devious as they come."

"More devious than you?" Estes grinned.

"Yes, more devious than me. He is a viper."

"I shall remember your words," said Estes.

Daass prepared to leave the great hall, but a large shadow blocked his path.

"Ah, Lord Daass. May I have a word?"

"Sir Kirkes. What a pleasure."

"I'm sure. I wanted to mention that Treteste told me who set in motion the imprisonment of Richela and myself."

"I see." Daass stood still, but his eyes darted everywhere.

"I just wanted you to know that I shall always keep your welfare in the forefront of my thoughts."

"I appreciate that, Sir Kirkes. And I shall do the same for you."

"As long as we understand the situation," said Kirkes.

"Oh, I understand perfectly. Good day, Sir Knight."

"Good day, Moderator Daass."

Pennants adorned the great hall. People in their best clothes crowded inside to catch a glimpse of the king. Many activities kept the guests entertained. There were games of skill; eating contests, dancing, minstrels and a bard from far the East telling tales not heard in the land. Even the nobles most offended by King Estes bent their ears to hear the bard. Besides, the food proved excellent. The king's table included his closest friends, old and new, who stood by him and prodded him during his brief exile. He quite forgave every perceived slight toward him by Tagera and Kirkes during his exile. He began to see what they had meant by their words. He hoped he could measure up to their expectations.

"I have an announcement," said Tagera. He paused, grinning foolishly.

"What is it?"

"Did you find an unattended keg?"

"No, no." He pulled Melana up next to him. "I have always been a thorn in the side of those who honor tradition. While in exile I met this delightful young lady." He grinned at her and she blushed.

"Good for you," someone shouted. "Can we return to the feast?"

"Not, yet. I want to go against tradition once more. Melana is not of noble blood, yet I wish to make her my wife."

"What does she think?" asked Richela, shouting down the comments from the men.

"It is my wish, too," said Melana.

"To the devil with tradition!" called out King Estes. He raised his tankard. A great shout rose to the rafters. Tagera kissed Melana and was showered with ale. Kirkes stood and clasped his friend's hand.

"I am happy for you, my friend."

"Thank you. And I rejoice for you that all barriers are gone."

Kirkes held Richela's hand and grinned like a little boy. "I am very happy."

"As it should be!" cried Tagera.

Singers and jugglers entertained the company. Soon everyone sang with the minstrels. More food was served. Another cask of wine soon spilled into their cups. The tumultuous sound rose from the laughter and song.

Suddenly, Tagera stood up, clapping his hands.

"I wish to speak once more."

"Go easier on the ale, Tagera."

"No, no. I wish to introduce my daughter."

"She's just a little thing, isn't she," asked Kirkes. "She should be with her nurse."

"My friend, it has been many years since you came to the estate. She is quite grown up and journeyed as a member of the troupe."

"I don't believe it," said Kirkes.

"Denora, come forward." The young girl stood up, blushing. Estes choked on his bread. He stood up coughing. Several hands pounded his back. He threw back some ale to clear his throat.

"Deenie!" cried Estes.

"Yes, you have met, haven't you," said Tagera. "I'd forgotten." He winked at Kirkes who shook his head.

"Deenie's your daughter?"

"I thought I spoke clearly. My dear, did I speak clearly?"

"Yes, you did," said Melana.

"Sir Kirkes, did you understand my words?"

"Clearly."

"Your highness, I fail to see how you did not hear my words."

Estes did not respond. He stood grinning at Deenie and her back at him.

"Sire, are you well?" asked Richela.

"Perhaps you should lie down," said Kirkes.

"I think he has a fever," said Richela.

"You are right," said Melana. "He is burning up."

"Lord Tagera, I have a request."

"Yes, your highness," said Tagera, smiling at his daughter.

"I wish to court your daughter."

"Indeed, I am shocked, shocked."

"Oh, father, please shut up." Deenie hugged Estes.

"What?"

The room exploded in laughter. Melana pulled Tagera away, shaking her head.

Deenie sat in a courtyard alone. The flower smelled sweet and the sounds of the castle seemed muffled. She enjoyed her solitude. She made plans for the wedding and the feast. The sun seemed warm and her eyelids grew heavy. A large shape passed by the door to the courtyard, and then returned twice more. Deenie dozed on the bench. The shape moved closer to her, and then paused. Voices came toward them. The shape concealed itself behind a bush against the wall.

Presently, Tagera and Kirkes walked into the courtyard.

"Sh. Look, she's asleep."

"No doubt dreaming of the wedding," said Tagera. "She's been so cheerful. She kept to herself after her mother died. Only spoke to me or anyone for that matter, when she absolutely had no choice. I hope Estes can keep her happy."

"He seems fairly smitten himself."

"Yes, but it may fade. It often does."

"That is the truth of it," agreed Kirkes. "I do not envy you as a father. So many worries."

"You have to look past it, my friend. Otherwise, you cannot survive."

They left the courtyard. Their voices continued to fade and Deenie remained sleeping. The shape moved from its hiding place. Mortic looked around to be sure no one could see him. He pulled out a long dagger and approached the sleeping girl. Even as he began his killing blow, he heard a gasp, and then felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He turned to see Sir Kirkes, eye ablaze, bearing down on him. Just before the huge fist of the knight rendered him unconscious, Mortic wondered at the knife-throwing prowess of Kirkes. Kirkes's blow sent Mortic back into the bushes he had used for concealment. Deenie woke with a start to find the smiling face of Sir Kirkes shadowing her.

"Nothing to worry about," said Tagera, standing behind Kirkes. "It was just an uninvited guest who needs to be shown his own quarters."

Tagera called for guards to remove the assassin. Shortly, thereafter King Estes arrived.

"Are you hurt?" asked Estes.

"No. I didn't even know I was in danger. I slept through the whole thing."

"How fortunate," said Estes. "That you did not suffer the fear of such an attack."

"Let's leave them," said Tagera. "His speech is about to become flowery and that I cannot abide."

"A hazard of parenting?"

"Exactly. Exactly."

With Mortic in the dungeon, the Mordyn invasion stalled. No instructions from Mortic could reach the Mordyn commander and they pulled back, fearing the combined Calendia and Wierland forces would be prepared for them. They relied solely on Mortic for intelligence information and now they were blind.

Wynne fought back the nausea. Her eyes could not look away from the shifting image of what she thought to be a woman, Lady Natale Galamog. She resisted her stomach's urge to retch, steeling herself to the horror to come. The Man form shook and danced as if on a string, then sudden bulges stretched it out of shape. Galamog's blackness grew larger and larger while her control of her Man shape weakened. Blackness exploded through her features and her eyes grew and grew, spreading like broken egg yolks. The creature before them sucked all light from the area and became blacker than the darkest night. A bird flying overhead became absorbed into the blackness and vanished.

"How do we fight it?" screamed Wynne.

"I do not know," said Blackthorne. He was shaking his head. "I have never seen her like this. Her strength is terrifying."

"She's trying to absorb everything," said Navir. "As if she were a sponge."