A Stolen Crown (30 page)

“I agree with my nephews and I will gladly support them. I had hoped that King Eric would rule many long years the madness began to take him, but he is clearly not himself. He is no longer steady on the throne. How do you decide gentlemen?” he looked around the table at the assembled nobles. Everyone respected Boric. He had a reputation for being a fair man and a good leader who had never used the fact that his brother was the King to unfair advantage. Borrican watched as the faces around the table shifted from expression to expression. He turned as a hand smacked the table. It was Kaledra.

“Damn,” he said. “As much as I love our King Eric, and as much as I love doing business with Maramyr, Cerric has gone way too far. Elrik, you have my support.” He turned to Borrican’s older brother who sat silently, as was Kandaran custom when advocacy was required. Elrik smiled at Kaledra and nodded his thanks. Kaledra looked around the table. “I call a vote.” Murmering was heard from along the table as the nobles muttered to themselves. “What say you?” Kaledra remained standing.

One by one, all the other nobles rose and put their hands on the table, some more forefully than others. One by one, all assented to Elrik and swore fealty to him as the rightful heir and King. Decisions in Kandara usually became unanimous once the majority of the table was convinced of a thing. Once every noble had delcared for Elrik, the new acting-king, Borrican’s brother rose.

“Thank you noble lords. I love my father as I am sure do you all and I respect the man he was, but the time for debate is over. Maramyr is at our doorstep and its soldiers have attacked our rangers and personally attacked my brother who was brave enough to venture close enough to them to bring us a first-hand report. Cerric’s army has not observed any of the conventions of war and I expect this to be the way of things. The time for diplomacy never was. We are at war. It has come quick and we must respond in turn. I want men in the field today. What forces do we have ready?”

Borrican watched as some of the nobles gave half-hearted attempts to retain their own armsmen, fearing for the safety of their individual estates. Their resistance gave way when he described the number of Maramyrian troops that had broken through the southern pass only this morning.

Outside the chamber, Henton frowned as he used his power to listen in on the nobles’ discussion. In the course of a day, Cerric’s easy win over Kandara had changed to a course of blood. Henton did not like the idea of the death that war would bring, but his mage-brother Dakar had assured him that should Kandara resist, the battle would nonetheless be ended quickly. As well protected as the mountain kingdom was, by the terrain alone, it would be useless for the Kandarans to try to stand against the Cerric’s army. It would be even worse for them when the Xallan troops arrived at the front. Henton had heard about the fearsome lizard-men who ate their enemies.

He shook his head as he turned along the walkway along the outside wall of the court. He rounded a corner where the guards could no longer see him and disappeared leaving only a break in the breeze where he had once stood. The nobles of Kandara would not be surprised to see him gone when they emerged from this war council.

*****

Dressed in the height of Maramyrian fashion in a shimmering silk tunic, finely spun cloth trousers, tall black leather boots and a rich dark cloak, Cerric descended the stairs from the upper palace toward the walkway that overlooked the city below. This was the day that Calexis, his bride, would arrive and he had been looking forward to it for many weeks. Since the day before, servants and advisors had tried to get him to look out at Calexis’ procession, but he had refused. Now, he looked out and was shocked at what he saw.

Like so much black ink spilling across the land, the long procession of the Xallan army spilled its way out of the Dark Forest in the distance, across the rolling Maramyrian countryside and to the gates of the city. It was a sight to behold, so many thousands of Xallans, marching peacefully into the heart of Maramyr. For a moment, Cerric wondered if he had been wise to allow his future wife to bring her army with her, but then he remembered the reassurances of the Priesthood that the Xallans would observe the peace. Comforted by the fact that nearly every mage, save for a few rogues and those that he himself had sent north with his own army, was in Maramyr, preparing for the Awakening ceremony, Cerric settled in to watch Calexis’ procession as it neared the palace.

Below, Calexis rode in a caravan similar to that of her last visit to Maramyr except that this one was many times the size and followed by a large portion of the Xallan army. As she looked out from the screens of the luxurious pallet upon which she rode, she wondered if Cerric was watching her grand entrance to his city. While a part of Calexis felt disdain for anyone who would presume to nobility and approach her as an equal, she knew that Cerric ruled a very powerful kingdom. Even with most of his own army moving into Kandara, Cerric still had a sizeable force deployed to welcome the Xallan queen. She smiled, knowing that the presence of her army probably made the Maramyrians nervous. She hoped it made Cerric nervous as well. It was only proper for a groom to be nervous before marriage, even if he was a King.

All in all, it took nearly the remainder of the day for Calexis’ train to reach the palace and she was glad that Cerric had the presence of mind to instruct the servants to show her to her quarters where she might refresh herself before beginning the first of many royal dinners to take place over the next days. Calexis recognized the hallways that led to the chambers she had occupied during her last visit and was delighted to discover that Cerric had given her even more opulent apartments for her visit as his bride. She admitted to herself that she had been sufficiently impressed with the last rooms, but now Cerric had lavished the full wealth of his kingdom upon her.

The rooms were draped with the finest tapestries that ran down from a ceiling gilt in the light-colored gold that was once mined in the hills to the north of Maramyr. A warm fire blazed beneath a hearth that had been worked by teams of master artisans who, generations ago, had created a beauty that was timeless. Calexis sighed, relaxing as her bare-feet felt the lush carpet beneath her toes. The room was warm, just the way she liked it. She was glad to no longer be on the road. As much as the seasons had worked their way well into spring, the nights had still been cold. Now, in the warmth of her luxurious chambers, Calexis again began to feel herself.

A knock at the door announced visitors. Calexis knew who it was, feeling the twitch in her own magic. Priests. She wondered which one of the black robes would come calling this time or whether it would be just one. The presence outside her door felt more like two. Calexis nodded to the silent servant who waited patiently for her command to open the door then admitted Shadar and his high priest, Dakar.

“Queen Calexis,” Dakar began. “On behalf of the entire Priesthood, I welcome your return to Maramyr.”

“Dakar. What is it that I can do for you? I am very tired from my journey and have many long nights of receptions ahead.” Calexis was even surprised at her own irritated tone. As much as she was losing her trust for the black-robes, it would serve no purpose to offend their High Priest. Luckily, Dakar smiled.

“It is not what you can do for me your highness, it is what we, your faithful servants may do for you. If you will permit, Shadar and I, we will set a spell to keep your bath perpetually warm.” Dakar offered and opened the door to an adjoining room. As hard as Calexis was accustomed to keeping her outward self, she momentarily lapsed into uncharacteristic girlish glee at the sight of the bath chamber. Dakar and Shadar traded a look and followed Calexis into the room.

Finely worked in intricate tile and delicate fixtures of bejewelled precious metals, the room was truly fit for a queen. Luckily, Calexis was a queen and she walked right in as though the beautiful chamber had belonged to her since the dawn of time. Someone had recently filled the bath and spread rose petals across the water’s surface and, nearby, several female servants waited to add heating stones to the bath to suit the preference of their future queen. Waved away by the two mage-priests, the women gladly left the chamber. The palace staff remembered Calexis’ last visit and did not envy those who were assigned to wait on the tempermental Xallan queen.

Calexis turned to the two black-robes and raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” she asked expectantly. Shadar bowed.

“Of course my queen, we will begin,” he told her as he and Dakar both summoned small amounts of their power to effect the spell. It was not a difficult task but due to the enduring nature of the spell, it did require two mages. And Shadar had hoped that having the high priest attend the moody queen Calexis would soothe her somewhat and make the days approaching the ceremony go much more smoothly. As they completed the spell, Shadar suspected that he was right, as his queen unceremoniously shed her garments and slipped into the water.

“Perfect! It is superb!” Calexis exclaimed. Dakar dipped into a low bow.

“The water adjusts its temperature to the desire of the bather. If you want it warmer, then merely wish it so, and colder, it is the same,” the high priest told her. Calexis looked at the two mages suspiciously then smiled as she felt the water raise in temperature as she wished it.

“Well done my mages. You may go now.” She dismissed them with a nod then turned to sit on one of the carved marble seats that were submerged around the edge of the pool.

Dakar smiled at his Xallan brother who shook his head as the two of them departed. Once they were well away from the Queen’s chambers, Dakar turned to Shadar and stopped him in the hallway.

“You did not lie about Calexis’ transformation. It is most interesting,” he commented.

“But do you think it will be a problem for Cerric?” Shadar asked. Dakar chuckled.

“Cerric lusts after her so badly that he won’t care about her new skin. So long as the important parts of her function, he will be happy,” Dakar told him. Shadar nodded, relieved. As much as he was perfectly loyal to the Priesthood, he had always been a true and loyal subject to his queen and he was glad that the Maramyrian king would marry her.

“Thank you for your assistance in this, Dakar. In a way Calexis continues to be my ward, even though she has become my queen,” Shadar told him.

“I understand. You are a responsible man and for that you should be commended Shadar. Now, I would ask that you attend to your other responsibility at the temple while I must attend Cerric and allay his concerns over his bride’s new anatomy.” Dakar grinned then retreated down the corridor, leaving Shadar to find his own way out of the palace and down to the temple grounds.

The Xallan queen's bath had been Cerric's idea, and it was a request that had annoyed Dakar, but he humored the king with this little chore, taking solace in the fact that his days of service would soon be over. The ceremony of the Awakening had already begun with so many mages now feeding their powers into the Star Crystal. It was now only a matter of days when they could begin the full ritual to call the One God from the heavens. Soon, Dakar would get his due rewards for being a faithful servant of the Book.

He smiled to himself as he neared Cerric’s chambers where the troublesome King awaited, having sent for him yet again, likely having to do with another one of his petty whims. Dakar looked forward to the day when he would no longer have to play along with the demands of this earthly king. A God would walk the halls of Maramyr, and simple monarchs, kings and queens, would bow to him and his priests and they would beg for the honor of serving instead of being served.

In the weeks since their arrival at Aghlar, Carlis had repeatedly found himself either confused or embarrassed by a whole host of conventions of Aghlar culture. It was no wonder that Elaine, with her extremely reserved Maramyrian sensibility, was so uncomfortable among the seafaring people. Even the facts of Ehlena’s own parentage would have been considered somewhat scandalous in the traditional courts of Maramyr and yet, among the Aglar people, she was considered a legitimate princess.

As Carlis came to understand, Ehlena was, by birth, the daughter of King Toren and Elaine’s sister Erin, even though Toren’s brother Matthius had been the one to marry Ehlena’s mother. Thankfully the first mate, Sten, had sensed Carlis’ consternation at deciphering the Aghlar customs and family connections and had offered to explain.

“Basically,” he told Carlis, “in Aghlar, we be free to mingle with whomever we please. And only when there’s a child at issue is there talk of family and parenting and such.”

“So do Aghlar’s do get married?” Carlis asked. Sten nodded.

“Of course we do. We’re very serious about marriage because it’s for the sake of our children that we do it. The difference in Aghlar is that the man who marries a woman doesn’t necessarily have to be the child’s father.” Sten could that Carlis was trying to figure out Ehlena’s relationship with Toren. “Take the lovely Ehlena. Her mother Erin was bedded by Toren, which is how Ehlena came to be. Toren though, was not ready for marriage at the time, an' Erin was also close with his brother Matthius, so he married her instead so the girl would have a father and a mother to raise her.”

“But why would Matthius make such a sacrifice? Did he not have his own life to live?” Carlis still did not understand. Sten shook his head.

“Of course he lived his own life. And from what I remember, he enjoyed himself, but when it came to the task of raising Ehlena, he was always there and ready to help. 'Tis not considered a sacrifice in Aghlar to raise a child that maybe did not spring directly from your own loins. That Ehlena’s father was Matthius’ brother was good enough. He raised his niece, not a sacrifice and something of a joy. That girl brought him a lot of happiness.”

“But what about Erin, Ehlena’s mother?” Carlis asked, picturing the poor woman at home with a child while Toren was out carousing and his brother Matthius dropping by with the occasional toy or dress for the child.

“Erin?” Sten smiled. “What about her?”

“Was she lonely? Is it not difficult for women left in such a position?” Carlis asked.

“No. She too had several lovers if my mind serves me rightly. Though she was less, ahem… outgoing, than typical Aghlar women. Really Cap’n, I understand such things make for a lot of importance in Maramyr, but we don’t make much of such matters in Aghlar. 'Tis just our way.”

“Sten, I appreciate your patience, but I just have a few more questions,” Carlis said and Sten nodded. “So, Ehlena is a full Aghlar princess of legitimate birth, even though her true father never married her mother.”

“That’s right. Toren acknowledged Ehlena as his daughter, which would have been enough for Ehlena’s mother to get any support she needed from Toren’s family, and to make the tie stronger, Toren’s brother Mathius married Erin Valamyr, making a political family tie between them. It was very honorably done,” Sten told him.

“But what if Toren had not acknowledged Ehlena? What would have happened then?” Carlis asked, for his own curiosity’s sake. Sten looked confused at first by the question, as though the idea of such a thing had not occurred to him.

“Then Toren would have no honor an' he'd be open to being challenge. 'Tis rare, but sometimes it happens, that a woman claims a father and the man denies it. In such an event, any man could challenge him for his position on a ship. Not everyone gets to work the ships, but there's plenty who'd like to, as it's the surest way to riches and greater honor. If the challenger wins, then the parenting responsibility goes along with the place on the ship. If there are no challengers, then 'tis the same as if the father were dead on the seas, and unless the mother had her own family or some way of supporting herself, they would be very poor, but they wouldn'a starve. We take care of our own at Aghlar, an' there's always a fair day's work to be done.”

Carlis nodded. The Aghlar way of dealing with family seemed to have developed from the seafaring culture, where the most valued work, being that of a sailor on one of the many ships, was also the most dangerous, and always with the chance of dying in a battle or a shipwreck. There was a kind of pragmatism to it all and it was starting to make sense to him but he figured it would still take a while before he got a handle on all of it. At least, now he better understood why Elaine was so prickly about socializing at Aghlar. He chuckled to himself when he thought of how the duchess would react to being propositioned by the open and permissive Aghlar men. At least now, he would not feel totally obliged to draw his sword at what might otherwise seem to be inappropriate comments from people they met.

“Thank you Sten,” Carlis told the first mate who nodded and bid him goodbye, seeming all too glad to return to his duties.

Carlis watched as Ehlena emerged from the main cabin of the Al-andor where she had been visiting her aunt. She stepped lightly across the deck, saying hello to members of the crew as she passed and then disappeared into the shipyard, likely on her way back to the palace to visit her father. As much as Matthius had been the girl’s father in a practical sense, she seemed happy to be developing a relationship with the Aghlar king. Carlis was glad that she was happy and chuckled to himself about his own parental feelings toward her and he wondered, if he ever did finally convince Elaine to marry him, whether she would want to have children.

*****

In a temple that was nearly identical to its neglected counterpart in Maramyr, Ehlena walked naked down the aisle between the rows of faithful worshipers. She was unafraid and unashamed as this was the custom in the temple of the Lady Goddess. In her hands, she held a beautiful flower, the flower of the Lady.

Unlike it’s Maramyrian cousin that had fallen into disuse, the temple of the Lady at Aghlar was regularly visited by the faithful who honored the goddess who they believed would bless them with a prosperous life and good fortune. They prayed for good returns for the fishing fleet and safe travels for the many ships that ran cargo in the trade between Aghlar and its other coastal neighbors. Those who stayed at home while others went to sea prayed for the safety of their loved ones and that they be returned in good health. Young couples prayed for strong children and asked the Lady to protect them. The Lady Goddess was life and she granted luck and peace.

Now, as Ehlena walked through the temple in ceremony to the Lady, the faithful pinned their hopes on the young woman who had returned to Aghlar and was revealed the true daughter of their king. They hoped that the Lady, in her wisdom, would approve of this newest priestess and in honor of her commitment, grace all of Aghlar with her blessings.

Ehlena too hoped that the Lady would accept her as one of the devoted. Her own mother had once been the high priestess and would be still had a wasting sickness not stolen her life. That the representative of the goddess of life had died so young, was something that was seen as a bad omen by the superstitious Aghlar and though it had been more than a year since Ehlena’s mother had died, some whispered that Ehlena might not make a good candidate for priestess. Still, the Counsel of Priestesses had voted to let Ehlena join their ranks. They had found no fault with her so here she was, standing in the garden temple before the fountain at its center.

In accordance with the tradition of the acceptance ceremony, Ehlena raised her hands and held the flower out over the pool. She would pluck one petal from the flower, symbolic of her own offering, and let it float into the pool, among the others. Gently, Ehlena picked a petal from the flower and held it up to the fountain. All in the temple were silent as Ehlena let the petal fall from her fingertips. They watched as the small white piece floated like a feather toward the water. Everyone in the temple was astonished when Ehlena vanished, leaving only the petal behind.

Ehlena did not know at first what had happened. She still stood before the pool and the fountain and she still held the flower in her hand, but the petal she had dropped was gone and so was the rest of the temple. Instead, Ehlena stood in a beautiful garden that expanded beyond the scope of her vision.

“Hello,” a warm and friendly voice said behind her. Ehlena turned and saw no one. She knew that during the ceremony, no one was supposed to speak, but she also realized that she was no longer in the temple.

“Who is there?” she asked. The voice laughed.

“Who?” she heard. Ehlena’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yes. Who are you?” she asked.

“Who are you?” the voice replied, and Ehlena thought she heard a giggle.

“Please, where am I? What is this place?” Ehlena asked, beginning to worry. She felt a strange sense of urgency overcome her and she struggled to keep her calm. It was odd that she should feel this way in such a place of peace, but she did and she was beginning to feel upset.

“You are home,” the voice said, after a moment.

“Home?” Ehlena said, more to herself than anyone.

“Yes, home,” the voice answered anyway.

“Then who are you?” she asked again.

“I am I, I am you, and you are me,” the voice said and Ehlena thought she could see a figure shimmering somewhere in the periphery of her vision. Ehlena was about to ask it another question when the voice spoke again. “I accept your offering,” the voice told her and with a blinding flash, the garden disappeared and Ehlena reappeared in the temple of the Lady, where she had stood only moments ago.

In amazement, the congregation in the temple saw the girl, Ehlena, the newest candidate for Priestess, reappear with a flash. Those who sat close to the front of the temple would swear that something about the Aghlar princess had changed. There was a glow about her, a radiance that was almost a warmth that some thought they could feel. Those who were closer still noticed that Ehlena was no longer completely unclothed and unadorned. She had reappeared with a ring on her finger. It was a simple ring, but it was made of that most precious metal, silvergold, something that could only have been a gift from the gods.

Ehlena looked at the other priestesses who smiled warmly at her, so pleased that the Lady had shown them all a miracle, if they did not yet know what it was. She turned and looked out among the people who looked at her in wonder, feeling the warmth and light of her gaze. They saw her smile at them and felt true joy in their hearts then, with a sigh, Ehlena vanished again, this time for good.

Ehlena reappeared out in the city near the harbor and walked barefoot through the muddy streets, either unaware or unconcerned that she was still unclothed. All she knew was that she needed a ship and she was headed to where she knew she would find one that would take her where she needed to go. She continued toward the main pier and people respectfully moved out of her way. They could see and feel the radiance that surrounded the beautiful princess and knew that something wonderful was happening. Somehow though, when Ehlena had passed from their view, none of the people could recall exactly what they had just seen. The moment of euphoria had left them without any memory of what had caused it, but all of them would walk more lightly that day and for several to come.

After only a short walk, Ehlena reached the Al-andor and walked calmly up the gangplank to stand atop the deck. All hands turned to see the princess, who they by now recognized, and knew that they were to set sail. They turned to their tasks and began readying the great ship to leave port. Sten was just coming up from inspecting supplies that were stored belowdecks when he saw Ehlena standing naked among the bustle of the ship.

“Ehlena,” he called. She did not turn. Sten walked across the deck towards her, trying politely not to stare at her body which, still infused with the magic of what had happened at the temple, radiated beauty and lush perfection. “Princess.” He called and Ehlena turned. He was glad when she smiled but just as the ship’s first mate reached her, the young princess collapsed into Sten’s strong, burly arms.

Ignored by the crew who strangely continued their tasks, Sten picked up the girl who now looked more young and innocent than he could ever remember her being and, like a concerned father, he carried her gently over to main cabin where he could put her to bed while he set about finding out what was going on. Moments later, Sten re-emerged on deck and seized the nearest sailor, a tough and weathered woman by the name of Rika, by the shirtsleeve.

“What’s going on?” he asked. Rika gave him a confused look.

“We’re readying to sail, of course,” she told him. Sten stared her in the eye.

“Who gave the order to set sail?” Sten asked. Rika squinted back at him, unsure why the first mate was asking such ridiculous questions.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Who gave the order?” Sten repeated.

“The Lady,” Rika said then turned and walked away. Confused, Sten walked around the ship and asked a few more of the sailors and got the same answer every time. Though he knew that something strange was going on and that the Al-andor was not supposed to sail without Carlis, her rightful captain, Sten also felt that somehow the crew were doing what they were supposed to and he began running through his own checklist of things to do before disembarking.