Birthright: Lord of Arda (13 page)

Chapter XXII

Braden

Braden shot forward, almost leaping from his chair at the old man's statement. Page’s face however wasn’t as enthusiastic, the smile had faded and the energy that had been so infectious had disappeared. Braden lent back slightly, a puzzled look appearing upon his face. The old man’s fingers laced together and he closed his eyes.

“Braden, before I say anymore, what did your father do for his living?”

Braden was stunned, why was he asking more questions? But Page had him trapped, he had no choice but to answer the man’s questions.

“My mother said that he worked for the King in Alton. So is that where you met him, here?”

“Braden, that ring. Hidden under your shirt, show it to me please.”

Why was he asking more, why didn’t he just tell him where his father was? Shaking his head, he reached under his shirt and pulled out the ring. He faced the white jewel to the older man. Page dropped his chin burying it in his chest. From the look in his eyes, Braden could see the answer was bad news, what had happened to his father? Then Page’s head raised again and a smile returned to his face and a spark appeared in his eyes.

“Braden, the news I am about to give you, is a double-edged sword. Are you sure that you still want to hear it?” Braden was shocked, why was he giving him a choice, why was he tormenting him and drawing this out, what was he was about to say that was so bad? He nodded.

“Your father did serve the King. But not in the same way I do. Braden, your father was Lord Arthon Drake, Lord of the Rose Tower and the White Hills, a High Lord of Arda.”

Braden didn’t blink, his mind was racing at what Page had said. His father was a Lord, it didn’t make sense. How was his father a Lord of Arda, and a High Lord at that, one of the most powerful men in the country? How and why had he been left in Farnshire with his mother to struggle for eighteen years? Why had he left his mother, so alone, so poor, dying a slow death? He jumped from his seat slamming his hands onto Page’s desk.

“Why did he leave my mother?” He screamed, everyone in the room jumped before Magnus bolted in from the balcony and stood at Braden’s heels, growling.

“If he was a Lord, why did he leave her alone to die slowly?” He slammed his hand on the desk again, tears began to roll down his face.

“Braden please calm down.” The old man sounded panicked, he raised his hands if to calm him down like a spooked horse. How could he calm down, then he felt Alex’s heavy hands rest on his shoulders pulling him back slowly. He resisted, until Ashe placed her own hands on his arm pulling him back as well. He slowly fell back into his seat.

“Your father could not help you, Braden, I am sorry to say. How old are you eighteen, nineteen? If so, he died when you were just a year old. He could do nothing to help you or your mother. I am sorry.”

He could see the pain in Page’s face as he told him that his father was dead. He didn’t know what he was feeling, a mixture of anger and pain, his fist was clenched so tight a small droplet of blood slipped through his fingers spilling onto the floor.

“Your father once told me he met a woman at the Roost. He described her in great detail, he spent the nights on campaign talking about her and about nothing else but her.”

“So why didn’t he marry her then?” Asked Alexander.

“Because he was already married. Not by his own choice, his wife Erida was an arranged marriage, set up by your grandfather. Even though, the two had no love for one another, some said they even slept in separate beds, Lord Drake could not bring a mistress back to his bedroom so openly.”

“Couldn’t he divorce her? I have heard before of noblemen doing such things, they are above the law.” Alex continued.

“Yes, noblemen with no moral fibre, unfortunately for Braden and his mother, Lord Drake held his honour higher than most.”

“Not high enough not to have an affair.” Braden replied between clenched teeth.

“Well, if you heard the way Lord Drake spoke about your mother the entire marriage with Erida was the affair and your mother was his true love and wife. He spent no more than three days with your mother but he spoke of no-one else for the rest of his life. I can see his fire in you, Braden.”

Braden couldn’t tell how that made him feel, proud or even angrier, another droplet of blood hit the floor before Magnus came up beside him and nudged his hand lightly with his nose. Looking down at the cub he smiled, and some of the anger subsided. He opened his hand and looked at the small nail size cuts on his palm. When Ashe spotted the blood, she pulled a strip of cloth from her sleeve and began to wind it around his palm. They all sat in silence as she worked, when she had finally tied it with a knot, Braden looked up at Page and took a deep breath.

“So how did he die?”

“Well, that is a matter of debate between those in high and low circles. The official report says that he died from an old battle wound he had received years before you were born. But to people who knew him better they believed that he was poisoned. He was fit as any man and able to swing sword and spear for hours on end before he grew tired. The wound was superficial and had healed years before only a scar remained. The fact that he could fall so ill and die within a matter of days from an old wound, which had completely healed, perplexed those who looked into the matter.”

“Then why if so many of you suspect it was poison, is it still classed as a natural death.” Braden replied.

“It was because the King himself announced it. He and your father were close, Lord Arthon was referred to as the Kings right-hand man, since they were both boys.

No one would question the King openly anyway, but with him being so close to Lord Arthon, it quashed any notion of foul play. Plus with no sons or daughters, there was no one apart from a disgruntled wife, who was more than happy to be a widow to take the matter any further.”

Braden’s emotions were all over the place. It felt as if a storm was spiralling inside him, pushing every emotion to the limits before ripping it away leaving him empty a moment later. He felt his chest blaze, at the thought of his father being murdered, he felt compelled to look into it further. But what could he do, a bastard son of nobleman who had been dead for nearly eighteen years.

“Wait, how do you know he was my father? You could be sending me down this torrent of pain for a mistake. And how did you know out there when I was fighting Corla?”

The old man smiled at the question. Leaning forward he placed his elbows on his desk staring deep into Braden’s eyes. He held the stare for a few seconds before breaking away.

“There are quite a few reasons, to start with, you look just like him at your age. From your height and build, your face is almost identical and your eyes have the same fire when you get angry as his did. The only thing of your mothers is your hair, Lord Drake’s was light and fair like your friend Alex. But the colour is exactly as Lord Drake described in your mother. The second is this sword.”

Page picked up the blade and showed the hilt to the group. He ran his finger across the white rose.

“This blade is unique, there are only nine in existence. They belong to the Rose guard, the personal guard of the patron of House Drake. When I saw a scuffle in the street, I felt obliged, as always to help. Corla is a thug and bully, he uses his father's titles and power as a shield behind the law and regularly picks on the peasants who come into High Alton on court day. I try my best along with a few others to keep him and the other young and brash noblemen in check, but when I saw you fighting with this sword and in the style of the Rose guard, I took special notice. Then I saw Lord Drake’s face and for a moment I thought I was dreaming. This, was the final clue.” Page pointed to the ring hanging around Braden’s neck, who subconsciously reached up and grabbed it tight in his hand. It was the last thing of his mother’s and at this time more than ever, he wished she was standing next to him.

“This was a gift from my mother. She said it had come from my father, he gave it to her before he left.”

“That Braden, is the one item which defines your father’s house, your house. From the first Drake who built the Rose Tower itself, that ring has passed down to each generation, it is linked to your blood line. Make sure you never lose it. I caught a glimpse of it when you hit the ground, after Corla’s thug of a friend had hit you from behind. That is when I took a gamble on you. And once you told me of your past, described your mother and that you came from the Roost’s lands, I knew I had guessed right.”

Braden opened his hand and looked down at the ring, he rubbed his thumb over the polished stone. He wondered the item’s worth both to the jewellers and to men like Page. So much had happened in the last ten minutes, his whole world has been turned upside down and spun around, nothing was the same. He didn’t know who he was anymore?

“So Braden is a Lord then?” Troy had been quiet for so long stood behind the chairs, Braden had forgotten the boy was even in the room.

“I doubt so, he is a bastard son, no offense. Plus I doubt Lord Drake’s lands are even around anymore. Eighteen years is a long time and noblemen are greedy, they will probably have divided them up amongst the other Lords by now.” Replied Ashe.

“You are mistaken Ashe, as I said, the King and Lord Drake were close. Yes, lands have been lost, what would be classed as Braden’s birth-right is only half of what it would have been, had he inherited his lands as soon as his father died. But the King did not want to erase the memory of the Drake family and his childhood friend. His own son, the late Prince Renal was given custody over the lands, until his own death two years back. There were whispers that the lands would be inherited by the next in line to the throne. However, this has since changed with the current state of affairs.”

“So Braden could become a Lord?” Alexander replied.

“There is actually very little standing in his way, mainly a way to prove his lineage. Much of what proved it to me will do the same to majority of the council and Lords, only a few will persist in needing more evidence. Lord Cadare maybe one of them. I think what matters most of all, is if Braden wants this.”

It seemed like such a stupid question, who would not want to become a nobleman let alone one of the most powerful in the entire Kingdom. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, his emotions were still swirling, he couldn’t tell which way his head or heart was pointing. He looked out towards the balcony and the slowly darkening sky, half of Alton was already dark in the shadow of the Citadel. Page followed his gaze out the window and they both sat staring for a few moments before Page pushed himself out of his seat.

“Look, it is getting late and I have said a lot and given you so much to think about. I will send up some more food and some blankets for you. I’ll also have the two beds pulled in from the bedroom, so that you have somewhere to rest. Perhaps you should sleep on this Braden. I will be here in the morning if you any more questions.”

Braden looked up at the older man and nodded in thanks. Page returned the nod with an added smile, before he made his way towards the entrance. He opened the door only slightly and a small woman popped into the room. After a few short sentences from Page, she disappeared as quickly as she came. Pushing the door closed he turned back to the group clapping his hands together.

“I am not as young as the rest of you and those stairs earlier took a lot out of me, so if you would excuse me I shall retire for the evening.” With a small bow, he walked across the room until he reached another smaller door near the fire and disappeared into the bedroom.

Chapter XXIII

Ashe

The room was dark, the sun hadn't risen, but Ashe was wide awake. She stretched out in the bed. The sheets felt glorious on her body, she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in a bed as good as this. Not only was the bed comfortable and the sheets clean she was safe enough that she could actually sleep without clothes. She had spent the last two years always half dressed, ready to leap out of the window at any moment. Ashe had previously looked for the room furthest from the stairs with a window over a back alley. Her requests would always cause the inn owner to raise an eyebrow. As she buried her head into the pillow inhaling the scent of lavender, she thought back over the years since she had lost her father. Had this been the first time she had felt safe since then? She was lying naked, in the middle of the capital, in the Citadel. Only a few hundred metres from the King himself. How could she feel safe? When she broke it down like that, her nerves began to return. She looked over to the pile of clothes she had left on the floor. Perhaps it was best that she put some back on just in case she had to leave quickly. Then, the previous day went through her mind. When she had decided to tag along with Braden and Alex to enter the city, she never expected to end up here. She was hoping for a few nights in a good inn, maybe make some money gambling out in the slums before disappearing back into the forest never to see Alex or Braden again. Braden, there was something about him, something that just kept him in her thoughts. From the moment she first saw him, glowing in front of her and when he had leapt to her rescue in the streets. Thinking about it, she had never thanked him for it.  Listening to everything take place in the next room hours earlier, she couldn’t imagine what was going through his head right now, it was a lot for someone to take in. Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she decided to see if he was awake, if her head was spinning his must be. Pulling on her clothes she crept closer to the door, the rooms were quiet and she could hear nothing but her footsteps on the marble floor. The door opened easily,not making a sound, peaking out into the main room she spotted all three of the boys asleep with Magnus at the foot of Braden's sofa, she was about to shut the door and go back to bed when she saw a light coming from the balcony. She panicked, was the city on fire? She moved quickly across the room pulling back the curtains allowing the cold air to hit her square in the face, she took a deep breath in from the cold shock before having to take another at the sight before her. There on the balcony stood the nine figures of light, this time each of them wore clothing of the highest quality. It seemed to be woven from light and colour, itself. Each wore a different colour, this time their features seemed more individual, no longer copies of each other.

The eight women were looking at a single man standing in the middle. They seemed to be arguing but Ashe couldn’t make out the words. She felt happy that they were talking, finally one of the women waved her hand out towards the city gesturing to everything, a distressed look on her face. At that point, the man dropped his head in what looked like defeat, before he turned and looked at Ashe again. His eyes bore into her, she had experienced no feeling like it before. He shook his head. Ashe bolted upright in the bed, she was still naked, her clothes heaped on the floor near the door which was still firmly shut. The sun was rising, inching itself around the curtains at the window. She laid back again trying to think of the dream, of the nine people, of the light in the dream and then slowly it drifted to Braden and the light she saw in him.