A Stolen Crown (9 page)

Brian nocked another arrow as riders surged forward to protect the wagons. The first two he aimed at fell from the arrows of some of Kaleb’s other archers before he could take a shot. He aimed at a third and fired, the impact taking the man from his horse. One of the soldiers yelled and the rest of them quickly dismounted, standing close to the wagons where they would be safer from arrows. Brian slung his bow around his shoulder and pulled his axes from his belt. Now it was time for the dirty work.

Kaleb blew his horn again and men dressed in white appeared from the snow covered ground beneath the trees and streamed toward the train of wagons still guarded by a significant number of Manfred’s men. Across the river, the rest of the soldiers watched impotently as Kaleb's men, who they immediately recognized to be too well equipped and too well organized to be mere brigands, attacked the few soldiers that were left on the other side of the river with the wagons. Brian ran down toward the wagons where several of the other men had already engaged the soldiers. He saw several more soldiers jump from inside a wagon and he ran to attack them.

Brian felt his anger flare at the sight of Manfred’s soldiers wielding their steel at him. He had been waiting for a chance to strike back at them and relished the opportunity now that it lay before him. He tried to control himself as he felt the swing of his axes go wild. Maybe these were the men who had tortured his father, maybe not. Whatever the case, they were on the wrong side of this fight. He felt a grim resolve come over him as one of his axes bit into a soldier’s neck. The man fell, clutching his hand to stop the blood that spilled his life out. Brian caught the other soldier’s sword on the curve of his axe and twisted it, wrenching the blade from the man’s grip. He pulled his other axe from the falling man and swung it into the face of the other, splitting his jawbone. Another swing and the man died quickly.

It was soon over and, amid the arrows that were now being shot by the soldiers who were stuck on the other side of the river, Brian and the rest of Kaleb’s men began turning the wagons around. Brian handed the reins to one of the men when Fergus approached with an arrow in his hand. It had been tightly wrapped with parchment.

“This for them,” he said, pointing to the soldiers across the river. “Message from Kaleb.” He handed it to Brian.

“A thank you letter?” Brian asked. Fergus laughed.

“Should be.” He chuckled and went to help the other men with the wagons as Brian knocked the arrow to his bow. He took aim at one of the large wooden posts jutting up from the ground on the other side of the river and let it fly. Brian had distinguished himself as Kaleb’s best archer. For a lesser archer, it would have been a difficult shot, but the arrow struck true. He smiled and waved at the soldiers across the river, happy to deliver Kaleb’s message, whatever it was.

On the other side, the commander of the convoy watched as the wagon train turned and moved away from the river, disappearing down the road and out of sight. The commander did not look forward to making his report upon his return to the Baron’s castle at White Falls. Manfred would not be pleased and he himself would likely be demoted for this disaster. One of his men approached with an arrow in his hand. He handed it to the commander who saw that a piece of parchment had been tightly rolled around its shaft. He carefully untied the thin cords that secured it and read the note. It was addressed to Manfred.

Baron Manfred Teraine,

Thou art hereby advised that thy unfair use of the peoples of this land is hereby concluded. Henceforth, any action taken by thee and those under thy command that is not in keeping with the King’s Code detailed in the Treaty of Maramyr shall be considered unlawful. Shouldst thy king order thee otherwise, thou shalt be held accountable for executing these unlawful commands as these lands are the rightful jurisdiction of the House of Alaran. It is the clear duty of the Lords of Maramyr to remind their ruler of the laws and traditions of the kingdom.

Ever loyal servant to Maramyr,

Kaleb Alaran, Lord of White Falls

The commander was not overly surprised when he read the name signed at the bottom of the letter. He was well aware of Lord Kaleb Alaran, the man who had been the lord of the lands east of the Brandy River until Manfred had seized his lands earlier this year. Manfred had sent men hunting for Kaleb since the summer and, apart from rumours that he was hiding in the dark forest, this was the first sign of him.

Manfred would certainly be interested to know that Kaleb had gathered enough men to accomplish what he had this day and perhaps now the Baron would listen to his commander and give him the extra men he needed to root out this troublesome outlaw. The commander ordered his men back into formation and turned to ride back to White Falls to deliver the news. The winter had turned hard already and if Kaleb’s threats were more than just idle then they were in for a difficult season. He shuddered as the thought of forced patrols and the bone-deep chill that came from cold weather and fatigue from standing the watch. The commander gave one last glance over his shoulder as he disappeared into the falling snow.

*****

In the mountains to the northeast, the snows had been falling steadily for many weeks, making the trails and even roadways all but impassable. Still, one lonely figure urged his horse onward through the drifts and gusts so strong it seemed as though they might whisk him right from the saddle. His horse snorted its own disgust with the weather that he was forced to labor through but did not complain too much since he felt perfectly warm carrying his master up and down the steep mountain passes.

None who looked along the trail would have seen either the horse or its rider. If anything, they might think they had glimpsed a deer, or some other creature of the forest. Despite his every effort to remove it, the enchantment that bound Anonymous held firm, leaving him unheard, invisible, insignificant to all but one, the young man named Aaron, who he had recently come to know.

Anonymous had traveled to the northeastern mountains to investigate rumors of strange lizard men and to both his delight and dismay, most of what he had heard had proven true. The Darga, as they were called, existed in great number, which was most interesting because Anonymous had hitherto believed them to be nearly extinct, only existing in small tribes in the eastern lands. He wondered how the Darga had come back into force and with such population but, despite his endeavors, he had been unable to find out. He did know that the priesthood was somehow involved with the Darga and that bothered him somewhat. He had observed the mage priests for many years, watching their order grow and take root among the population of mages, using the power of the book to increase their numbers among the unwilling. It was all leading to a point, a goal and the plan of the priesthood was no secret, at least not to him. They were preparing for the arrival of their god.

He frowned as he thought of it. As much as the things he had told Aaron about creating the book were clear in his mind, the rest of the details remained elusive to him, as though his memories had been blurred. He had little doubt, however, that his curse was somehow intertwined with the god of the priesthood, and he sought to learn all he could about the matter. Perhaps, with the coming of this god who was using the book in such a way, there would be a chance, an opportunity for him to have his curse lifted, a chance to take action in this world once again. He had come to understand that all the lifetimes of knowledge he had accumulated were worth little if he could not use what he had learned or at least share it in some way.

For now, he would be pleased to get out of these mountains and to a more reasonable road that would take him back to Maramyr. At least the curse kept him from weather’s harm. As much as he left no track or sign of his passing, neither did the snow touch him or his mount. The grey gelding was yet another mystery of his curse as the horse seemingly was to share his fate. It had stayed with him for centuries and was always near when he needed it. Anonymous always found the big horse in a nearby stable, well groomed and attended, but by whom he did not know. As much as it irritated him not to know something, in this, he opted not to question providence. For now, he was moving more readily through the ever-deepening snowdrifts than he would have on foot.

Anonymous thought about his return to Maramyr and how much time he would have before the Priesthood’s ceremony. It was only a matter of weeks until mid-winter solstice and there was much to do. One thing that bothered him more than the vexing bluster of the snow and wind was that Aaron, the one person who he had been able to talk to in generations, had disappeared. Anonymous had heard about Aaron’s promotion and his assignment to escort the Princess Ariana and was pleased that the lad was progressing along in his career. Unfortunately, he was on his way out of the city when he had heard of the news of what had happened after and that was the last anyone had heard of him. Of course, he knew the stories that were being told that Aaron had played some part in the princess' death were obvious lies. Anonymous had not spent generations of years accumulating knowledge without the ability to detect falsehoods. Nonetheless, he was unable to sense Aaron's presence the way he could with most other people.

Perhaps it was some remaining vestige of his own power that gave him such an ability. He did not know why or how, but he could usually locate and even, in his mind, catch a glimpse of a person, a place or even an object if he so wished. With Aaron, it had never been the case. Originally, he had thought that the ward, which caused the boy so much trouble, was what obscured him from his sight, but Anonymous had rejected that theory. Whenever he thought of Aaron, his mind would give him the image of the deep blue night sky sparkling with stars. Strange. He also knew there was some significance to such imagery but Anonymous could not remember what it was.

When Aaron had left Maramyr, Anonymous had thought to keep an eye out for him and mark his progress by concentrating on the princess, but every time he did, his vision immediately shifted to the same vision of stars. He guessed it was something like the way his horse benefitted from being in close proximity to him. At least Anonymous knew, since the images had not changed, they were both still alive. Somehow, he always knew when people died. But, the few times he had tried to see those who he knew had passed from the world of the living, a vision of cold grey mist would last but a brief moment before the vision was abruptly jarred from him. Anonymous got the distinct impression that those who ruled the land of the dead did not want him prying into their realm.

He took comfort in the fact that, wherever Aaron and the Princess were, they were alive and it was likely that he would see his young friend again. As much as Aaron had been able to talk to Anonymous and develop their imperfect friendship of sorts, Anonymous had previously taken an interest in Ariana and had often looked in on her over the years. He was unsure of exactly why he paid such attention to them but he did know that there was something about both of them that was important and worth the effort.

His thoughts of the Princess reminded Anonymous of the fact that, upon the announcement of her death, Ariana’s uncle Cerric had become the ruler of Maramyr. The cursed mage shuddered to think what Cerric was already doing to the once prosperous kingdom. Even under his regency, the people had suffered needlessly, and with Cerric devoting so many more of the kingdom’s resources to the priesthood and his impending war against Kandara, life in Maramyr was not particularly happy for the people. It was a shame, thought Anonymous, but he had reconciled himself long ago to the fact that, as concerned as he might be, there was little he could do to affect the world around him. He sighed as he urged the great grey horse onward, looking forward to returning to his beloved books and wondering at the darkness that seemed to lie ahead.

In Maramyr, midwinter solstice was usually a time of celebration, when hearths were warmed a little more than usual and strong drink was enjoyed with friends. It was always a generous time when families feasted and shared what extra they had with the less fortunate, when children would bundle up in warm clothes so they could play in the snow, building forts and throwing snowballs at each other in mock battle. That was the way it had been in Maramyr for many years, but very few expected much joy this year.

There were rumors that the celebrations would be cancelled and that the Priesthood, with the support of King Cerric, was instead planning to hold a solemn prayer followed by a day of silence. The people of Maramyr were unhappy and growing restless and crime was becoming more and more a concern as Cerric's new austerity measures were resulting in more and more of the people falling into poverty and the societal ills that went with it.

Soldiers regularly patrolled the streets enforcing the new curfew that was in effect while the kingdom readied itself for war. Vendors and shopkeepers had closed their doors and many who had not been able to squirrel away a few coins had no choice but to leave the city. Jobs there were aplenty for those who could make things useful to Cerric’s growing army, but the pay was poor for most except those who held the king's favor. Those who did stay either became part of the war machine or starved.

The only people who were not directly involved in Cerric’s military plans were the black robes although they had plans of their own. The king had given the Priesthood a free hand to build their temple in exchange for the help they had promised for the attack on Kandara. Since the mountains would remain impassable until spring, the mage priests would have ample time to construct the giant building that now took up much of the temple square.

The people of the city would sometimes visit the square to see how construction was coming along. They gawked as mages worked along side the builders, moving giant blocks of stone with their power into the places the builders directed them. It looked almost as though the mage priests were working for the builders but everyone knew that the builders were there only because of their own specialized knowledge. The Priesthood wanted this temple to be perfect in every way for it was being built in honor of the one god, who they expected to come, and soon.

A black robe wended his way through the crowd of people gathered that day to watch the mages lift the giant dome that was to sit atop the great structure. He saw twelve mages combining their magic to slowly levitate the massive round half-sphere and marveled at the precision with which they worked together. He could feel the magic power through the great link, the gift of the book that connected each mage to it and knew that lifting the giant dome was but a trifle for the mages considering how much power they had at their disposal. Still, the sight was impressive to the many onlookers.

The mage approached a group of other black-robed mage-priests who stood off to the side of the temple, observing the work. He immediately recognized Dakar among them and, since that precisely was the man he was looking to meet, he straightened his robes, gently felt for the magical link that marked him as a mage priest and put on his most affable yet humble expression.

“Good day, High Priest Dakar. I am Calthas and I have been assigned to help with the temple work.” Calthas held out his hand. Dakar stared at him for a moment then smiled and reached to clasp Calthas’ outstretched hand.

“Calthas. I wondered when I might finally see you join the priesthood.” Dakar held Calthas in his grip and Calthas could feel the mage-priest searching him with his power. He felt a tug at the link and then felt Dakar’s power recede. “You used to tutor the princess, Ariana, may the one bless her in the afterlife.”

Calthas did not know that Dakar was aware of his meetings with the princess but he was not surprised. It was unlikely that the palace would not have surveiled the movements of the heir to the throne, at least when she still lived and, despite the precautions they took, the priesthood had shown itself to be ever more adept at prying into every corner of those it sought.

“Yes, that is true. She needed help controlling her power and she had not yet seen the light of the book, and, unfortunately, neither had I. At the time, the princess took some comfort in my counsel,” Calthas told him truthfully.

“There are those who are still suspicious of the one faith,” Dakar said. “They have but to gaze upon the book and they will see the truth.”

“Praise to the one god and the truth of the book,” Calthas intoned the common blessing of the followers of the one. Dakar smiled, pleased that yet another young mage had joined the growing number of mage priests, especially one such as Calthas who, despite not being particularly powerful, had eluded him much of the time when the princess still lived.

“Do not be offended, Calthas, but if I remember correctly, you are not the most powerful of mages. Do you have some specialty?” he asked. Calthas nodded.

“I take no offense, your holiness. I have studied for some time on the issue of patterns and structures of magic. You are correct that I do not command a great power but I am proficient at creating and manipulating complex weaves. I have made a special study of portals and gates for several years now. I hope to learn the lost art of permanent gates so that even those without magic might be able to travel by them, and perhaps even open the paths to Etherium.” Dakar seemed impressed.

“That is a skill for which we might have some need,” Dakar commented. “When you have looked upon the truth of the one book, have you seen the Star Crystal? It is a crystalline structure like a web or a star with many points.” Calthas nodded that he knew the image as Dakar continued. “That is the one constant vision from the book and we are working carefully to fashion this structure. It is one of the primary commands from the book and we believe that it is of key importance to the One. Perhaps you might assist the other mages in this task.” He gestured inside the temple.

“I would be most honored, High Priest Dakar. Should I report to someone in the temple?” Calthas asked, glad that Dakar had decided to use him for his talents. Dakar nodded.

“Enter the temple. You will see a group of mages working on the structure. Report to Yanick. She will direct you.”

Calthas expressed his thanks and walked out onto the steps of the temple and up towards the entrance. He was aware of the giant dome that now hovered high overhead as the mages were beginning to move it overtop the temple. He passed between the great stone columns at the entrance and walked through an outer chamber before entering the cavernous main hall.

The light from the uncovered ceiling was already partially blocked by the giant dome that was being magically moved into place, but it was growing dark inside the massive structure. As he walked across the main chamber, he heard several of the priests mutter their own particular words of magic and purple lights flared along the walls, illuminating the chamber as darkness closed in overhead. He saw the mages gathered at the far end by the back wall of the temple, just past a large stone altar. They were all gazing at the wall where a giant structure had been erected.

Calthas gaped at the giant crystalline structure the mages had fashioned. It looked like the glow of a star that had been cut from ten giant diamonds and set apart in a large circle. The wall behind the crystals had been magically painted to a deep black that seemed to draw the light of the room toward it and he quickly realized that the wall actually was doing exactly that. Calthas wrenched his eyes away from the dark wall and focused on one of the mage priests instead and walked over to find out what it was he might do to help them with their task, a proposition he was quickly beginning to dread. Calthas did not know why, but whatever it was they were building in the temple instilled a great fear in his heart.

*****

Ambassador Rees frowned as he crossed the outer courtyard of the Xallan Imperial Palace. The army commanders had been ordered to keep a constant parade of troops on rotation in the outer courtyard so Calexis could look out her window at any given moment and enjoy the vastness of her army. The soldiers were not put out by it since only a fraction of the Xallan army could parade in the courtyard at any given time and thus it barely amounted to a weekly duty. Nonetheless, the black and red uniforms and shining black lacquered steel armor made for a fearsome sight. As much as Rees understood the importance of a strong army, he had never understood the need to always appear to be at war. Still, he was a good diplomat, and as an officer to his queen and empress, he did his duty according to her plans. On this particular visit, he was the unfortunate bearer of bad news and was not particularly looking forward to his audience with the queen.

The guards knew him and let him pass as he ascended the grand steps to the main palace entrance. Several courtyards and hallways, an antechamber and various sets of guards later, Rees found himself entering the Queen’s chamber. He put his clothes on a stand near the door and noticed, thankfully, it was warm in the room despite the windows the queen habitually kept open.

Calexis, though naked as usual, was not lying abed as was often her custom. Instead she was up and intently looking over a series of large maps spread out on a table before her. With the hand that held the large bejewelled silver goblet, she gestured without looking up.

“Over there. Help yourself to some wine, Rees,” she told him. Rees obliged and poured himself a measure into a jeweled silver cup that had been laid out.

“Thank you, Empress. It warms me,” he told her, glad as much of a drink as any would be in her presence, especially given the recent changes in her appearance. She was as beautiful as ever, but now she also looked frightening, like some otherworldly creature.

“I understand Cerric is being difficult,” she said. The wine went down Rees’ throat in a lump. She glanced over at him. “I have eyes at Maramyr. Never doubt that,” she told him with a cat-like look in her eyes and a slight curl at the corner of her mouth. Rees thought he saw little fangs jutting down and pressing into her lower lip then he quickly put aside his thoughts about her appearance and did his best to focus on the matter at hand.

“Yes, he dislikes our proposal to annex the borderlands. He claims that it would make Maramyr more difficult to defend should affairs between our two lands break down,” Rees told her. Calexis laughed.

“Of course it would. That’s why we want it. I don’t think Cerric quite understands that what we are discussing here is more than a mere treaty, but a marriage of both ourselves and our nations. Tell him if he wants me to spread my legs and birth him an heir, then I want these lands. It’s simple as that!” Rees cleared his throat.

“You want me to say that?” he asked.

“Why not. It’s what it comes down to. Tell him that if he wants my help taking Kandara, then I want the Borderland region. In a way, he will still rule as it will be part of our joined Empire. I don’t see the problem.”

“Then you are willing to fully commit Xalla to a campaign against Kandara?” Rees had never been totally sure on this point and to what extent Calexis would lend her army for such a campaign. She waved it off.

“Yes, yes. Of course we’ll attack Kandara. The place is rich with jewels, iron and coal, all things we need. I assume Cerric did agree to split the spoils,” she said, bringing another map to the fore.

“Yes. He agreed to your terms but was insistent on a guarantee that he will have full commitment of the Xallan Imperial army in the campaign against Kandara.” Rees told her, clarifying his question. Calexis looked at him and pursed her lips but did not answer. He continued. “In recorded history, no one has ever conquered the mountain kingdom of Kandara. Some tried long ago, but no one has openly attacked the Kandarans in almost a thousand years.” Calexis sipped her wine and looked at him with a predatory stare then she smiled and Rees was now sure that his queen had grown a pair of sharp fangs.

“Then they’ve had a thousand years to get complacent, while we’ve had a thousand years to grow strong,” she told him. “Tell Cerric he has my support if I can control the Borderlands. If he agrees to that point, then I will be his wife, birth him an heir and hand him Kandara on a silver platter.” Rees looked at the fine black scales that blended their way into his empress’ pale skin. He swallowed nervously.

“And what if the heir is born with…” he felt a bead of sweat appear on his forehead. Calexis raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“If he or she inherits my unique beauty?” she asked, coyly. “Then so be it. It is who I am and the Darga are now part of the Xallan Empire. Who knows, Cerric may even find himself similarly affected once I have had my way with him. It has happened to a few of my recent playthings. Not to all, but a some have noted a few changes.”

Rees was astonished at how casually Calexis treated her dalliances with the generals and other officials in her empire. He was just glad that she had never turned her attentions onto him and secretly had always done his best to stay overweight so she would not. He was a Xallan and served the empire to the best of his ability, but he did not wish to be a part of his queen's life of indulgence. Calexis noted his silence as he stared at the maps.

“Say nothing of it. Let Cerric find out about my physical enhancements after we have been married. I guarantee he will not complain.” She said this last suggestively, snapping Rees out of his thoughts. “If that is all, then you are dismissed. Negotiate these final points and finalize the agreement. I trust that your escort has been provisioned and is ready to return to Maramyr?”