A Stolen Crown (15 page)

“He is nothing,” Brian said.

“You're right. Manfred has lost everything,” Kaleb confirmed. “Even if he’s stupid enough to show his head at Maramyr, Cerric would probably arrest him for treason. He’ll be stripped of his titles for sure and there will probably be bounties put on his head. Manfred lost a lot of men here tonight, all of whom have families, some of whom I wouldn’t put it past to hunt him down and make him miserable.” Brian nodded.

“Good,” he said coldly. “Then he will know what it’s like to fear and to be hunted.”

Brian turned and stiffly walked away. Kaleb watched him leave and marvelled at how much more a man Brian seemed to have become since he had met him such a short time ago.

One of Kaleb's men shouted for him and he turned back to look at his river-moated castle. He shuddered to think of how it had been ruined by the days of water rushing through it. The man gestured for Kaleb to cross the drawbridge. Everything with Manfred and his men seemed to be in order so Kaleb decided he might as well inspect the damage.

What he found when he entered the fortress was something very unexpected. Gone were the thick looking white plaster walls, which had been washed clean away. Instead, the original structure of the castle had been exposed and it was some kind of hard green stone that glistened almost as though it held some kind of magic. Kaleb noticed that everything seemed bigger as well and realized how thick the plaster must have been.

He laid his hand on one of the greenish stone walls and then quickly pulled it away. When his hand had touched the stone, he thought he had heard voices. Carefully, he put his hand back on the wall and to his amazement, he saw the wall glow slightly. Again, he heard voices, what sounded like a kind of murmuring. He held his hand, listening and marvelling over this strange and wonderful surprise. It sounded almost as if the voices were confused echoes, disjoined and all speaking out of time, but he thought they were trying to say something to him. After a short while, standing, listening, Kaleb heard a distinct change in the tone of the murmuring and he distinctly heard the voices, with a discernible warmth to their tone, merge together and utter one word.

“Master,” the fortress said in unison to its lord, glad that he had returned.

*****

Word travelled quickly that Kaleb had reclaimed his castle and talk soon began of the Borderlands declaring independence from the throne of Maramyr. People flocked to White Falls to declare their fealty to the outlaw lord and offer what support they could before the inevitable was bound to happen. It was almost certain that Cerric would disapprove of Manfred’s deposal and send soldiers in number to put down Kaleb’s supposed revolt.

In an attempt to ward off the perception that he was leading a revolt, Kaleb sent an open letter to the palace, explaining his actions and reaffirming his loyalty to the throne of Maramyr. Despite the reality of his actions, Kaleb was genuinely trying his best to keep the peace. He had even spent several days on the wording of the letter, trying to make his point while leaving things open and blameless. Cerric would surely see that it would be more sensible to accept that White Falls now, once again, belonged to Kaleb and to accept the traditional tithes from the people rather than these new and unreasonable taxes.

At Maramyr, Cerric slammed his fist onto the heavy walnut table. This Kaleb had become a real problem. Not only had he led a revolt against the rule of Maramyr, but he had usurped the rule and lands of that most incompetent Baron Manfred. Cerric did not care that Kaleb had taken over lands that had previously belonged to him, and that he now claimed a stewardship only over Manfred’s holdings. As far as he was concerned, this was treason and he would see Kaleb’s head on a pike for it.

“Get me that captain, what’s his name…Nathas!” Cerric shouted at a servant. He looked around the table at Dakar, Duke Mirdel who had just brought him two thousand new army recruits from his lands to the southwest, and Lord Barant who had been more successful than Manfred at quelling provincial unrest.

“If I may, your highness,” Duke Mirdel interjected. “Would it not be wise to have this man’s support since he seems to hold such sway over the people he governs and has clearly demonstrated that he is a more than able commander?” Cerric’s eyes widened.

“He has disobeyed my edicts and, including those who were slain at White Falls, he and his outlaws have murdered nearly seven hundred of my men! You would now have me welcome him back to court with open arms?” Cerric’s face flushed with anger. “Do I look mad to you?”

Keeping his calm, Duke Mirdel paused a moment while Cerric got his anger under control and then continued.

“I am not suggesting that this Lord Kaleb be welcome within our ranks, but he and his men would make a perfect first wave against the Kandarans, would they not?” Mirdal said without expression. Cerric pondered the idea.

“But what if he tries to convince the men to revolt?” Cerric objected.

“I’ve had dealings with Kaleb,” Barant interjected. “He is a man of his word, and if he agrees to support this campaign, then he will do so.”

Cerric looked to Dakar who held up his hands. The Priesthood had little interest in helping him deal with the petty matter of a disagreeable country lord. Both Mirdal and Barant agreed, though Cerric wondered how much they were basing their opinion on the knowledge that White Falls was one of the most secure fortifications in the kingdom. Still, if Kaleb agreed, it would take a major thorn out of his side, one that he could throw at the Kandarans where it could do some good.

The heavy wooden doors swung open and a uniformed soldier of Captain’s rank entered the room. Cerric recognized the head of the Academy and remembered that he had been one of the representatives sent to assess the situation in the White Falls area when Manfred had first started having difficulties with Kaleb. Nathas bowed deeply to all three men then dropped to one knee, following the new protocol Cerric had instituted since taking the crown.

“Rise, Captain,” Cerric commanded. “We have need of your knowledge and expertise.”

“Yes my king.” Nathas stood.

“You were sent to White Falls some time ago to investigate the problems between Baron Manfred and Lord Kaleb, is this correct?” Cerric asked.

“Yes my lord, though Kaleb was no longer a lord at that time,” Nathas told him, wondering at Cerric’s use of the title.

“Yes, yes, don’t correct me soldier. Just answer my questions.” Cerric was irritated though he knew that the Captain was merely being precise. Such was the way of the Maramyrian army and he supposed he would have to get used to it if there was to be a war. “And what was your assessment?” Cerric asked. Nathas shifted slightly before speaking.

“I made a report on this matter. At the time, I was fairly certain that Baron Manfred would be unsuccessful at removing Kaleb from the dark forest and would likely see some form of organized attack made upon himself before the onset of winter.” Nathas told them. “It was my opinion, which I did submit to the palace in my report, that the Baron did not have the necessary resources or military expertise to succeed at neither the tasks your majesty set for him, nor in holding White Falls, should Kaleb undertake a campaign against him.”

“But Manfred had over five hundred men garrisoned at White Falls and dozens more on regular patrols through the borderlands,” Cerric objected. “Kaleb did not have such numbers on his side.”

“No, he did not. I would estimate Kaleb’s forces to have numbered nearly two hundred at most.”

“He was outnumbered almost three to one and yet you, in your expert military opinion, thought more men should be devoted to this enterprise. Why?” Cerric asked.

“May I speak freely, your highness?” Nathas asked after a moment.

“Of course.” Cerric nodded.

“Baron Manfred was not an exceptional commander,” Nathas started uncomfortably, unsure about the wisdom of criticizing a noble of the king’s court. “I am not saying that he was incompetent or negligent, but he was not a skilled soldier and he lacked the support of the people and even many of his own soldiers. The main reason Kaleb is garnering such support is that the people trust him and believe what he says. They follow him and do what he commands because they believe in him, because he has proven his loyalty to them, shown them that he will protect them and keep them safe. He is a leader in a way that Manfred could never be.”

Nathas wondered if he had perhaps gone too far. He knew that the same criticisms he had of Manfred could easily be said of Cerric and hoped the king would not take offence. There was silence in the room and the Captain felt the dampness of perspiration under his arms. Nathas would rather that he was facing forty men swinging swords than the four men in this room staring at him. Finally, Cerric smiled at him and he breathed a sigh of relief as the king strode up to him and clasped his hand.

“Thank you for your candor, Captain Nathas. You have enlightened us to the reason for Manfred’s failure and you have helped me come to a decision. I would like to commission you for two tasks.” Cerric told him.

“Yes, your highness,” Nathas said, wondering what the king had in store for him.

“First, I wish you to travel to White Falls to negotiate an agreement with Lord Kaleb. We have accepted his proposal for him to regain his titles and lands and furthermore accept his pledge of loyalty to Maramyr on one condition, that he and his men agree to assist you in the second task, which is to lead the Royal Maramyrian Army to war with Kandara.”

“Are we now officially at war with Kandara, highness?” Nathas asked, knowing full well that even though no official declaration had yet been made, Cerric had already set things in motion for the upcoming campaign. Cerric smiled.

“The war will happen in the spring when the passes through the mountains can once again be traversed. Until then, there is much to prepare, for it is not likely to be an easy campaign and that is why I am promoting you to the rank of Captain General. You will offer Lord Kaleb the rank of Brigade General and you will report to Lord Generals Mirdel and Barant and myself. I trust that you are willing to accept this command?”

Cerric kept his warmest expression on his face. He had just offered Nathas the highest rank attainable for a commoner, and in a practical sense, the highest rank in the Maramyrian Army. It was a rank that would put him on a footing equal in command to that of a Lord General. Of course Cerric would be sure to give writs to both Mirdel and Barant with which they could rescind both Nathas and Kaleb’s ranks, but there was no need to tell them that. Nathas smiled and nodded.

“I would be most honored to help command your army, highness and look forward to serving with Generals Duke Mirdel and Lord Barant,” Nathas said, careful to show his deference to Mirdal and Barant, wondering whether they approved of Cerric’s choice. “I will arrange to travel at once to White Falls to enlist Lord Kaleb’s support.”

“Very good,” Cerric said to the newly promoted Captain General. “Then you are dismissed. I will send the appropriate documentation to your offices at the Academy later this day.”

“Thank you, my King.” Nathas saluted him and exited the chamber. Cerric watched the man leave then turned to the other three men.

“Well, I think our little problem is well solved for the time being,” he said, feeling rather pleased with himself.

The months passed and both Aaron and Ariana noticed that the sun began to shine more brightly every day. As the weather warmed with the coming of spring, they realized they would soon be able to leave the mountains for home. As the snows melted, the wreckage of the wagons and horses were revealed and they noticed that they were riddled with arrows of the kind fashioned in Kandara. They both agreed it was ridiculous that the Kandarans would be involved in a plot to have her killed but it seemed that things were made to look that way. No doubt that was the story told by the soldiers who had attacked them and, if their suspicions were correct, it was likely that the people of Maramyr believed that she was dead. Ariana remembered all too well that her uncle had been the one who had hand picked her escort, all except Aaron, whom she had herself requested. If her uncle had chosen those soldiers himself, then the orders had to have come from him and that could mean a lot of trouble.

She was disgusted that Cerric was her uncle, that he was family. He was greedy and scheming and, even though he would pretend to show concern for her and try to act like he cared, Ariana always felt like he was insincere. It also occurred to her that if Cerric would go so far as to kill his own niece, then why would he not kill his own brother and wife, Ariana's parents. Now that she no longer had any doubt of Cerric's duplicity, she resolved that he would pay dearly for what he had done. The cold of the winter had hardened her feelings of betrayal and by the time the snow began to melt, her anger flared to life, burning stronger with every passing day.

As the snows disappeared and the days became longer, the two were able to venture further and further from the cave where they had made their home for so many months. The day finally came when the two decided that they should leave their mountain refuge and make their way back to civilization. That evening, they gathered their things into packs and made ready to leave. One more night, they slept together in the tiny pocket that had been their home then started off through the forest early the next morning.

When they approached the road, they argued about which direction to take. Ariana wanted to return to Maramyr, but Aaron tried to convince her that it might be best to push on to Rivergate Keep, named for the great river that ran down from the mountains toward the densely wooded Elven forests to the southwest. The keep was much closer to where they were and it was also where they hoped to get some horses and supplies. It would certainly be much easier than walking all the way back out of the mountains on foot. Ariana was less than pleased with the idea of such a detour. She was impatient to wring her uncle’s neck but she agreed that it made the most sense to push on to the mountain keep

“As far as anyone knows, you were killed in the mountains by bandits or assassins. If you go back to Maramyr, I doubt they would even recognise you,” Aaron explained, trying to be tactful.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She cast him a sharp look. Aaron grimaced. It was a subject he had avoided all winter long. He tried another tack.

“Lets put it this way,” he said. “When you left Maramyr, you traveled with an armed escort of Maramyrian soldiers.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered.

“You were also finely dressed in thin silks and fine leathers,” he pointed out.

Ariana held up her arm, about to inform him of how fine her clothing actually was when she saw what he meant. The shirt that had once been a deep forest green was now a kind of grey black, after a winter of living by campfire, even though she had diligently washed everything. She looked at her hands and realized that they too were smudged, and her nails were broken short. She did not want to think about the state of her hair but instinctively reached a hand into the tangle. They had kept reasonably clean, heating pots of water to wash with, but living in the smokiness of the cave for so long had taken its toll. Ariana realized how desperately she wanted to have a bath. She looked at Aaron, and decided that he needed one too, and a shave. He had also grown a beard over the winter, and she was not sure whether she liked it or not.

“I suppose we could make for Rivergate, resupply and then head back to Maramyr,” she said, conceding that his idea might have some merit.

“It's also safer. Given that Maramyrian soldiers were the ones who tried to kill you, we should probably find out what is happening before walking back in the front door."

“I am pretty sure my uncle, Cerric was behind it,” Ariana said.

“I wondered about that, but didn't want to say it,” Aaron told her.

“It's fairly obvious. I don't think I told you that the members of the guard were selected for me by my uncle himself,” she admitted.

“But why would your uncle do such a thing?” Aaron asked.

“To be king?” Ariana asked rhetorically. Aaron nodded in agreement.

“You're right. And, if that's the case, he might not like it if you were to show up, all of a sudden.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Aaron scratched his head. Even though they had not spoken about it, he had wondered about the answer to that question quite a lot over the winter.

“Nothing. Not until we know more. It wouldn't be safe just to go rushing into situations where the people who are supposed to be protecting you turn out to be enemies. We have enough gold to get new clothes and horses as well as a proper meal and perhaps stay a few nights at an inn. If we make good time on the road, we can make it to Rivergate in less than a week.”

Ariana thought about it for a moment. Cerric had the power of a kingdom at his disposal and they had only a few gold sovereigns between them since the soldiers who betrayed them had been carrying the saddlebags with the princess' gold and her letters from the Trade Guild. If it weren't for the few coins Aaron carried, they would have had very little. They would go to Rivergate, resupply, collect themselves and figure out how to return to Maramyr so Ariana could claim her throne from her treacherous uncle.

“Okay," she agreed, "but I think we can afford to travel in a little bit of comfort.”

Ariana pulled a dagger from her pack. It was encrusted with jewels, diamonds, rubies and inlaid with various different metals. Aaron had never really looked at the dagger closely before and now he noticed that it was made of silvergold, the same metal as the ring he had found in the temple of the Lady. The princess figured they should be able to get something for it if they were completely desperate although the dagger had been her mother's and she hoped they would not have to sell it. Aaron agreed that it would be better if they could avoid selling something that had not only sentimental value but its own intrinsic worth as well. Having decided their plan, they set off northwest, away from Maramyr.

*****

Having spent a lean winter together in the frozen mountain, both Aaron and Ariana barely resembled what they had looked like when they had left Maramyr. The harsh life and vigorous activity of staying alive had toned the softness of the city out of them. Aaron’s beard had grown thick and his hair long while Ariana’s features had sharpened from the lean living. Her mother’s Elven blood now showed more prominently and the slight angularity of her features gave her a natural intensity that Aaron noticed increasing day by day as they got closer to civilisation. He wondered about the burn scars that ran down one side of her face from where the burning pitch had injured her. He had not said anything to her about it, thinking it might be the sort of thing that might make her upset, and in all reality, he barely noticed it anymore. As far as he was concerned, she was just as beautiful as the day he had first met her.

Quietly pondering their return to civilization, they walked all of the day and into the night before camping, staying off the main road, just to be safe. It was difficult going as the spring thaw had made a lot of the ground soft and muddy, but for the most part they found animal trails that offered better footing and ran fairly close to the main road. Four long days of travel later, they finally emerged from the woods to find a stone fort on the mountain road.

The place was called Mountain Ridge hold and Aaron had heard of it described as little more than a military outpost with a small garrison. The sight that greeted them was somewhat different. The stone fortress with its high walls was surrounded by a small town with its own outer wall and a gate. Outside the town, there were also dozens of pitched tents along with a large number of heavily laden wagons lined the road. The grey-blue smoke of campfires hung low in the still, damp air and the tangy scent of burning wood filled the air. As they neared the fort, Aaron and Ariana recognised the markings on the wagons and the uniforms of the men in the camp. They were soldiers of Maramyr.

“What are they doing here?”  Ariana asked.

Aaron wondered if maybe the attempt on Ariana’s life had something to do with it and he feared the worst.

“I think we’d better be careful until we know what is going on,” Aaron said to her quietly as they neared the camp and he suggested that they pull their hoods over their heads to make sure they were not recognized.

None of the soldiers gave the two travellers a second look when they stopped to listen to an old man standing on a wagon, speaking to the crowd waiting outside the walls of the city. The old man’s voice strained as he conducted the crowd with his tale.

“Discovering that our Princess was to leave for that good priestly Island, the diabolical villains hatched their fiendish plot. Murdered in the mountains, she was, by Kandaran arrows and with the treachery of her own guards. Our fair Princess was murdered and for that the Kandarans shall pay dearly. I say join the King’s army and we’ll rout the thieving barbarians from their mountains! They have stolen the life of our Princess, and will we let them steal our Kingdom? I say nay!” The old man roused the crowd to angry cheers and it was all Aaron could do to stop the princess from saying something and he practically had to drag her away from the crowd.

“I should say something,” she told him. “I can't believe the lies they are using, to raise an army, no less!”

“What would you say to that crowd?” Aaron asked. “Would they listen?”

“I will tell them I am the Crown Princess of Maramyr!” Ariana said, her voice rising a little too loud. Aaron gave her a look and she lowered her voice again. "By rights, I will be Queen by mid-summer. They are my people and they are my soldiers, and they are being led astray. It is my duty to tell them the truth.”

“And if they do not believe you?” Aaron asked.

“Why would they not believe me?”

“We already talked about this,” Aaron told her. “Let's get into the city and cleaned up, then we can figure out how best to approach this situation.”

As much as Aaron did not like the idea that Maramyr might be going to war over a lie, he was more worried for Ariana's safety and that took priority. Tarnath had always told him not to rush into battle, to look at things from as many angles as possible before taking action and he figured the advice would hold true in this kind of situation as well.

Ariana scowled as they worked their way out of the crowd, but she at least agreed to keep up the subterfuge that they were nothing more than simple travelers.  As they approached the gate and a burly looking guard with a thick, brown beard stopped them and asked them their business, while he suspiciously eyed the two dirty travellers.

“What’s your business?” He glanced at Aaron’s sword in its scabbard at his waist, not noticing the other one Aaron had wrapped in a sheet of leather and tied onto his pack. “Joining the King’s Army like everyone else I suppose?”

“No, I was a soldier for a while before I injured my arm in a campaign in the borderlands to the east,” Aaron lied. “I just keep this old thing for protection when I travel.” The guard looked at Aaron skeptically as he continued his story. “I thought I might see if there’s any work as a builder up at Rivergate Keep while the Army is getting organized, then it’s off to Markwood. My cousin is a woodsman there. If I don't get hired on at Rivergate, there's always wood to chop. Hope to start a family up there.” He gestured to Ariana. “This here’s my wife, Katie.”

The bearded guard nodded to her with barely a glance, grunted his approval of Aaron's story then ushered them in through the gate.

“Just stay out of trouble. Lots of strange folk in and out these days what with the coming war and all,” the man told them. Aaron thanked him and Ariana tried to smile as they made their way into town.

They told the same story to the innkeeper who claimed to have no room until Aaron produced one of his gold sovereigns and told him to make sure ‘his wife’ got everything she wanted. The man’s expression immediately brightened and he led them to a tiny room on the upper floor, near the back of the inn.

“It’s all I got left.” He wrinkled his nose at them. “I suppose you’ll be needing some wash water?” he asked. Aaron nodded.

“Yes, it's been a very long road,” Aaron told him

“I’ll see if we can heat some up for the lady,” the innkeeper said and left them in the room. Ariana let out a deep sigh and Aaron could tell that she was unhappy.

“I’ll go and get supplies while you freshen up,” Aaron suggested. Ariana sat on the little chair next to the bed and rested her chin on her arm. He dropped the packs next to the bed and promised to return soon. He would find her some new clothes. That would surely cheer her a little. One thing Aaron knew for sure was, women liked being clean.