A Stolen Crown (29 page)

“Do you have other mates?” Aaron asked, having worked up the courage to ask what had been on his mind. Kasha laughed as she pulled on her underclothes.

“Would it matter if I did?”

“I don't know,” Aaron said again.

“You don't know Ansari,” Kasha said and she walked over to the bed and put her arms on his shoulders, looking down at him between her breasts. “This is why I said it might be difficult. It is best we do not complicate your world. Mine is very simple. You are my mate. I am yours. Others do not matter unless they do. If you desire me, then seek me. I will do the same, but only in the desert of Ansara.”

She kissed him again then began to wrap the strips of cloth around her chest, pressing her breasts flat against her ribs and. Aaron got up from the bed and Kasha directed him to a large basin of lightly fragranced water, which he splashed on his face and body then, with a cloth, he wiped away the sand and sweat from yesterday's fights and the passions of the night and morning. By the time Aaron managed to put all of his clothes on and strapped his sword belt to his waist, Kasha was already dressed in her sand colored desert robes and had tied her hair up into the first part of her head wrap.

“I wish we could spend more time,” Aaron told her.

“Do not wish,” she said. “If you want me, I will be in the desert. Your path leads another way, for now. But I will kiss you once more.”

She did, and Aaron kissed her back and the two of them stood intertwined with one another and breathed deeply of each other, their scents mingled and bodies knowing one another and responding to their touch. Eventually, they disentangled themselves and stepped away.

“I wish to know something,” Kasha said.

“Of course,” Aaron said.

“You said you learned the steps from your uncle. What is his name?”

“His name was Tarnath Coromay. He was the Royal Armsmaster to King Gregor of Maramyr.”

“Then he no longer lives.”

“No, he died in battle,” Aaron told her.”

“That is a shame,” she said. “I would have liked to meet him in the circles. I wonder if he would have known my teacher.”

“Who was your teacher?”

“My teacher yet lives, but does not have a name.”

“Oh,” Aaron said, confounded once more and not sure what to say to her.

“Seek me, if you will, husband. I wish you water's grace and the wind to your heels,” she said as she finished wrapping the cloths around her head. Then, with a nod of her head, and what Aaron thought was a smile beneath the wrappings, she exited the tent. It was a few moments before Aaron realized what she had called him and now he was completely confused.

He straightened up his clothes and walked out of the tent to find the guards from the night before were gone and the streets of Forsina were already bustling with morning traffic. Aaron made his way through the city, recognized by a few people who smiled or waved as he passed by. Aaron smiled back at them and scanned the crowds, hoping he might catch a glimpse of Kasha, but she was nowhere to be seen. A short while later, he found his way to the docks and found Carly and Malek loading supplies onto the ship. The old pirate looked a little worse for wear, and he was sweating profusely as he lugged a crate from the dock onto the ship.

“Ah,” Malek groaned. “Glad you made it back, lad. My old bones are not made for this kind of work in this kind of heat.”

The morning sun was certainly warm, but the desert was still cool compared with the temperatures it would reach by midday. Carly shook her head.

“If you hadn't drank so much last night, you'd feel just fine, Malek.”

“Well, either way, I'm going to go take a little rest before we shove off,” he said then he uncapped a water skin and drained half of it as he wandered back toward the main cabin, leaving Carly and Aaron to move the rest of the crates and barrels.

“Nice of you to join us,” Carly said, her eyes a little sharp. “I take it you had a nice visit with Kasha. Spent the night drinking at swords or both?”

“A little of both,” Aaron said as he grabbed one of the heavy barrels and carried it onto the ship.

“She is very beautiful,” Carly said, her voice almost a whisper.

“You know about...” Aaron didn't want to say her name.

“I met her yesterday,” Carly said with a shrug. “She didn't tell me who she was, but when I saw her at the fighting rings, I knew it was her. No fooling my eye. So, how was she? Tell me what happened. Don't skip on the details, either.”

Now Aaron felt really awkward.

“I don't really want to talk about all that,” he told her and Carly gave him a look that said she had already figured it out.

“Well, that does it, I suppose,” she said, a little dejectedly.

“She did talk about you,” Aaron offered.

“She did? What did she say?”

Now Aaron felt even more awkward and regretted bringing it up.

“Uh,” Aaron was not sure whether he should tell Carly and he thought about making something up, but he could not think of what else to tell her and it just came out. “She said you would make a good mate.”

“She said that?” Carly frowned and turned away. She picked up a sack of vegetables and hurriedly carried them past him onto the ship and Aaron thought he saw tears running down her cheeks.

They loaded the rest of the items in silence and, when they were finished, Carly took a water skin then made her way up to the front of the ship and sat down, straddling the bowsprit. Aaron was not sure what Carly was feeling but she was clearly upset. He had thought what Kasha had told him was a compliment about Carly, even though she had meant it as a suggestion that Aaron should spend time in bed with her. He tried to think of a way to explain it but he did not think that the things that came to mind would be helpful and might come across the wrong way. Aaron decided just to let her alone and he roused Malek from the cabin. After some grumbling from the old pirate, they pushed off from the docks of Forsina and began to sail down the river again, leaving the desert town behind them.

Cerric threw his goblet at the stone wall. This was why he did not like mages and why he trusted them even less. Dakar had promised him that support would be forthcoming from the mages in the impending attack on Kandara but now he wanted to call them all back to Maramyr.

“How does that make sense?” Cerric demanded. “I have given your damn priesthood leave to build your temple and required little else of you. May I remind you of the oath of fealty you and every other black robe has sworn to me as your king. Now I require your services in Kandara and you say no.” Dakar waited for a moment before speaking.

“My lord, the one book is clear that the throne of Maramyr will be the center of the new order of power foretold by the book. This will surely come to pass. But think, your majesty, you are soon to be married and the great ceremony of the temple will be held on the same night. Would it not be sensible to wait until you have to power of the one god behind you before making your attack on Kandara?” Dakar could sense Cerric’s frustration. The king had vast ambitions and he was impatient from having already waited out the winter. “Delay but a matter of days my lord and you shall have additional troops from Xalla as well. My brothers and sisters to the east have sent word that Calexis brings an army to help in the conquer of Kandara. Her soldiers shout their praise to Maramyr and death to the Kandarans.”

“So Calexis brings an army with her?” Cerric scowled. “Why have I heard nothing of this?”

“The message arrived only a short while ago my lord,” Dakar told him. The coming of a Xallan army was yet another reason to postpone the attack on Kandara, and one with which he hoped Cerric would agree. “The Xallans wish to celebrate the joining of their queen with the great king Cerric of Maramyr.”

Cerric began to pace. Representatives from Xalla and Maramyr had been negotiating the terms of the marriage all winter and he had agreed with the Xallan Queen that, though their armies would remain separate, they would aid one another in matters of defense or conquest. He considered the value of having additional troops to throw at Kandara and knew that it would be better to have them than not, but he wondered whether Calexis would then want a piece of the mountain kingdom for herself.

Cerric shook his head. He was too suspicious. Calexis was to be his wife in a matter of days and whether she commanded her own armies or not, she would learn obedience. Cerric was the king of Maramyr, the most powerful domain in all the lands. The Xallans had never been able to best the soldiers of Maramyr despite having tried for countless generations. Still, caution demanded that he should not commit his entire army to the attack on Kandara until the Xallan troops had been sent on away from the city. He turned to the mage priest.

“Tell me about his ceremony, Dakar. Will your one god be attending?” the king asked sarcastically and Dakar smiled.

“Oh yes. That is the purpose of the Awakening, my King.”

*****

Calexis stalked back and forth in her royal tent. As if the snail’s pace of her army was not frustrating enough, she was getting fed up with the constant talk of the Priesthood’s ceremony. She knew religion was important to the people and that she herself had declared the One God and his Book to be the only true religion in her Queendom, but she was growing jealous of all the attention paid to it.

Ever since her transformation, her pregnancy and its effects upon her, she had felt her fascination with the Book beginning to slip. She could now feel the link to the power of the Book, and felt her powers return to her, her thoughts once again her own. It grated on her how slavishly everyone around her labored to satisfy the whims of this supposed One God. Calexis thought about how easy it would be to command absolute loyalty and obedience if one had the power and seduction of godhood and she was jealous of such power. She wondered why she should not be a god, and thought about how divine it would be to be worshiped and adored.

Calexis looked forward to meeting this One God, that she could get a better idea of the kind of deity that could enslave the wills of so many. She was not sure whether she should congratulate and worship or instead tremble in fear of such a god. One thing was for sure, as much as anybody else, she was looking forward to seeing a god walk the land. The power of it stirred the insatiable hunger that lived deep within her and she wondered whether he would appear in the form of a man, and whether he would also have a man’s appetites. The fact that she was to marry Cerric did not even cross her mind as she soothed her chafed ego with the thought of taking a God to her bed.

While she lay back and luxuriated in her imagination and her sheets, she sent a servant out to obtain from her scouts a report as to how long it would take for the procession to reach the capital of Maramyr. Circumstance demanded that she avoid the gossip that a lover would bring and she was unaccustomed to going without male attention for such an extended period. As much as she would have all that she desired upon reaching Maramyr, it was important that she make a proper entrance, displaying for the benefit of all the people of Maramyr, the glory and might of the Xallan Empire, of which they would soon become a part.

*****

Borrican dug his heels into his mount as he sped through the trees. Behind him bolts whistled through the empty branches of the trees that had not yet begun to bud. The last bits of snow melting along the trail made the footing muddy and very treacherous but still he urged his horse to greater and greater speed. Another arrow whined past his ear and he ducked low on the saddle flattening against his mount. Only a few more moments and he would reach the most dangerous part of the ride.

Ahead the forest thinned and a long road appeared. He rode up onto the dirt track meandering his horse slightly to make himself a more difficult target. Within a few minutes the track widened into a small village and the road began to incline upward. The few villagers who were caught outside ran back into the doorways and alleys from whence they had come when they saw Borrican being pursued by the Maramyrian riders. A horn sounded behind him and he looked to see his pursuers slowing and retreating back toward the trees. He was tired and his fast black stallion was sweating a froth now but he pushed one last time to make the run up the hill to where his men waited.

He cursed himself for being so foolhardy but knew that he must be the one to ride out to the scouts and report on the coming enemy forces. So many of the nobles would not believe that Maramyr was riding in to attack. Half-hearted preparations had been made by the captains and the army had been partially mobilized but the court had been carrying on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Now they would listen, Borrican cursed them, now they would have to listen. He cursed again, angry that this madness was made worse by his father the king.

The stronger the stories of the Maramyrian advance had become, the further the King slipped into his delusional stupor. As frustrated as he was with his father, Borrican did not envy his brother the task that would arise with Borrican’s report. As soon as Borrican personally confirmed the Maramyrian advance, Elrik would declare martial law in Kandara and assume control of both the court and the army. Though their father still wore his crown, Borrican’s brother would, in every other way, become king. With war at their doorstep, no one would dispute the move since Elrik was the rightful heir to the throne.

Three days later, Borrican rode through the city gates, the guards having opened them at his approach, and straight to the palace. His brother Elrik met him in the courtyard outside of the main hall.

“Things aren't good, brother,” Elrik said as he grasped Borrican’s hand. Borrican frowned.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His older brother shook his head as he led Borrican up the steps.

“One of the black robes spoke in the king’s court this morning. He offered to carry a message of diplomacy to Cerric; he claims that one of his bretheren has Cerric’s ear,” Elrik told him. Borrican laughed sarcastically.

“Dakar. He was probably the one who convinced Cerric to attack us in the first place.” Borrican scowled. “Their advance troops have crossed the mountains but they are waiting in the hills. At last count there were over twenty-thousand camped and more are likle on the way.”

“The Council of Nobles has voted to send the black robe on a peace mission,” Elrik told him.

“And by the time this black robe has been and back, Cerric’s army could be on our doorstep. I don’t know why they haven’t attacked us already. They’ve more than enough men in the field with the way we are currently defended. Does father know of this?” Borrican asked. Elrik nodded glumly.

“He’s in one of his moods again. He’s still trying to organize a welcome feast for our Maramyrian visitors, all fifty thousand of them.” Elrik led his brother past the guards to the king’s court. They saluted as the two princes passed. “The servants are preparing a dinner for our father, hoping that he will get drunk and forget about Cerric.”

“And the Council?” Borrican asked.

“Uncle Boric arrived a short time ago and he’s reconvening the nobles.” Elrik told him.

“And you, brother? What do you need.” Borrican knew the answer. He and his brother had discussed this at length. Neither of them would enjoy what they had to do.

The great doors opened and Borrican saw most of the Council milling about the high table of the king’s court. Servants had assembled some light fare and were scurrying back and forth seeing to the needs of the various nobles in the room. The king’s brother, Duke Boric, noticing his nephews enter, smacked his hand on the table three times, the call to assemble.

As the two princes rounded the large table, there was one final bit of activity as the nobles seated themselves and their servants darted away to exit the room. Borrican noticed the black robe of a mage-priest standing off to the side. He turned to face the man.

“You. What is your name?” Borrican stared at him, trying to discern what he could about the man. His face remained calm and expressionless.

“Henton, your magesty. I am called Henton.” The black robe gave a half-bow.

“You have offered to act as an envoy to this court?” Borrican asked.

“Yes my prince. That is so.”

“Good.” Borrican smiled. “You will wait outside this chamber and deliver a message to Cerric when we have finished here.” The mage-priest paused for a moment, as if considering whether he might be permitted to stay. Borrican cocked his head at him, asking silently whether the mage-priest had any questions. Wisely the black robe chose to retreat.

“Thank you my prince. I will patiently await the message. We of the priesthood are your faithful servants of peace.” The mage-priest Henton cursed Borrican under his breath as he exited the room. The older brother Elrik had been more amenable to his presence and to the wishes of the nobles who had asked that he be allowed to attend the council this morning. This younger prince left no option. None of the nobles would contradict Borrican, not while his brother Elrik apparently stood with him. The doors shut behind him as the royal guard took their positions on the door.

Borrican and his brother Elrik greeted their uncle Boric, who took his seat to the right of the empty Seat of Kings. Elrik looked to his brother and Borrican nodded, encouraging, following his brother to the large great chair at the center of the table. Several of the nobles gasped as Elrik sat in his father’s chair. Borrican stood to the left of his seated brother and spoke first.

“I move that Elrik Akandra, royal heir to the throne of Kandara become, this day, the ruler of Kandara. I, prince Borrican, his brother and the only other heir to our father’s throne support him in this and recognize his rule over our land, court, and armies.”

A hand smacked the table.

“This is preposterous!” Duke Kaledra objected. “We met with the king himself earlier today, and now you have brought us all back here to listen to this nonsense?” Borrican smiled.

He did not know Kaledra well but he had heard about him. The Duke’s lands were rich with ore, most of which he sold to Maramyr. He stood to lose a great deal of money if Kandara went to war. A nice peaceful annexation would be more to his liking whereby he could keep his title and his land and keep on selling iron to the Cerric’s armories. Borrican silently wondered how strong Kaledra’s oath of fealty was to the House Akandra.

“Kandaran law is quite clear that an heir may temporarily assume the crown should the sitting ruler be incapacitated, so long as that heir has the support of the other heirs and the majority of the Council. You have all witnessed our father’s decline over these past years. It saddens us more than anyone that our father’s grief over the death of our mother has left him more often than not in a world of his own fancy. But now Cerric’s armies march on Kandara and the king has ordered the palace staff to prepare a feast for his arrival? We love our father, but we can no longer indulge his delusions.” Borrican told them. Kaledra stood.

“But why is the Maramyrian army in Kandara? What does Cerric want?” the Duke asked.

“We do not know that, save that we have sent riders and none of them have returned.” Borrican told him then turned to the rest of the table. He reached beneath his cloak and held up an arrow. “I pulled this from my saddle today. I encountered an advance patrol of the Maramyrian force. I rode as you see me now, in Kandaran colors. Their orders are to fire on anyone, regardless of rank. Cerric is not here for peace. He is here for war and he plans to be quick about it. The main force will reach the foothills in three days. If we do not stop them there, they will overrun Kandara with our without our cooperation.” Borrican threw the arrow on the table. The gold and blue feathers of Maramyr were plain to see. Kaledra threw up his hands and reclaimed his seat. Duke Boric rose to address the council, his mighty fist thudding softly on the wood of the table.