《Aeolwyn's Conquest》


 Map of Laryndor

    Laryndor


    Laryndor is an island continent that is surrounded by a large sea. No one has ever sailed across the sea because of the magical shield that surrounds and protects the island. It is divided up into 6 kingdoms, including Camulan (where this story takes place). To Camulan''s west is the enemy nation of Fennland. To the north is the Elvish kingdom of Wickshire. South and to the east is the wealthiest nation, the Duchy of Tambryne.


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 Prologue

    The drawing room in Teorton Castle was opulent, but not overly so.  It could only earn the term in contrast to the lack of wealth outside the walls of the palace.  Outside lay the Green District, the low hills where only the wealthy could afford to build their homes.  Beyond that lay Everything Else, the regions of Teorton that only interested the wealthy classes by how much they could support them, the castle, and the king.


    From the lowly dock workers to the farriers, to the blacksmiths, each paid the taxes on their labor that raised up the wealthy and built the castles.  The wealthy didn¡¯t notice what the lower classes did for them.  They just accepted it as the status quo; they took the fruits of the labor as easily as one might take a pebble from the beach.  If a servant died, they might notice that their clothes weren¡¯t as quick to be cleaned, or the food took longer to reach the table, but they didn¡¯t see the servant¡¯s hungry children or mourning spouse.  To the family, the death was a terrible event of major consequence.  To the lord, the duke, or the king, the death was just a mild inconvenience.


    The king of Camulan, Llarwyn I, walked slowly around the drawing room, pausing at the gold trinkets that decorated it.  He couldn¡¯t identify most of them.  They had been here for as long as he could remember.  Many belonged to his late father or grandfather.  The men who had built the palace during their battles with the Elves of Wickshire to the north, or the Fenns to the east.  According to Llarwyn¡¯s tutors, the elves and Fenns had banded together and made it all the way to the shores of the Dyadic Sea, and laid siege to the town.


    The defenders held out, however, and beat the coalition back across their borders and freed all of Camulan from their tyranny.  There had been nothing but skirmishes since, and in general, during Llarwyn¡¯s rule, the borders were relatively quiet.


    He considered himself a great ruler.


    He picked up one of the decorative trinkets.  It was a golden arrowhead taken from the elvish Daal, a ruler of one of the elven clans.  His grandfather, Leilwyn had ripped it from the neck of the Daal himself, at least, that was what his father Aedwyn told him.


    ¡°We have a legacy to protect, Alfyn,¡± he said.


    Crown prince Alfyn was his son, and next in line to the throne of Camulan, assuming that he could gain the support he would need to acquire it once Llarwyn was gone.  Llarwyn knew well how fickle the nobility of Camulan could be.  He himself had barely gained the throne, after the challenge his brother had offered.


    Alfyn, with three brothers and two sisters, was going to have as much, if not more trouble than Llarwyn had gone through.  Though Ulfnar and Wolfryn weren¡¯t particularly popular among the nobles, Llarwyn¡¯s youngest son, Aeolwyn was.  There was something magnetic about the sickly boy that enraptured the nobles when they came to pay homage to the king.


    ¡°What do you mean, father?¡± Alfyn asked.


    Alfyn was to be his greatest legacy.  Llarwyn had very high hopes for his son.  Sometimes he wasn¡¯t too bright though.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be here forever, Alfyn.  Someday I will pass, and you will be king - if you can hold on to it.  You have three brothers who will have their own eyes on your throne.  You need to have a plan for them.¡±


    ¡°I do have a plan,¡± his son replied.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just kill them.  I¡¯ve told you before.  If you did that, you¡¯d have the biggest revolt since Avartwyn murdered his brother at his coronation.  You need to be more subtle.  You shouldn¡¯t even be here now.  You should be out among the nobles, currying favor.¡±


    He turned the arrowhead over in his hands, marveling at its construction.  The elves in Wickshire were noble people.  Their craftsmanship was unmatched, as was their skill in battle.  How had the army of his grandfather¡¯s time been able to beat them so soundly?


    He held the arrowhead out to Alfyn.  ¡°You see this?  It belonged to an elf.  Not just any elf, but the Daal, a leader.  My grandfather ripped it straight off his neck when he killed him.  That is the legacy we are trying to protect!  The elves are just across our border to the north, and are biding their time, waiting to invade.  They¡¯re waiting for me to die and exploit your weakness.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not weak!¡± Alfyn protested.


    ¡°You are right now,¡± Llarwyn answered.  ¡°Maybe you¡¯re physically strong, and could do well in battle, but a king needs to be so much more than that.  You need to be a leader of men.  A master of strategy and diplomacy, and most importantly, you have to have support at home.  Without that, the elves, the Fenns, even the Tambrynese could garner support and take our throne from us.  Not just from you, but from all our descendants!¡±


    The arched wooden door opened, and a man came in.  He wore a finely embroidered tan wool coat over a yellow shirt and green silk stockings.  His brown hair was oiled, including the moustache and goatee he wore.  Over oiled in truth.  It made him look as though he hadn¡¯t bathed in a year.


    ¡°Ah, Lord-General Harmin,¡± Llarwyn said.  ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±


    The lord-general stood at the door and bowed.  ¡°It is my pleasure, Your Grace.¡±


    Lord-General Harmin was the commander of Camulan¡¯s armies.  He had large battalions stationed all across the kingdom, both as protectionary and mobilization forces.  The lord-general believed it was important to have soldiers spread across the country prepared for any quick responses that may be required.


    He was also a proponent of a standing army rather than calling up the peasantry to fight as needed; only in the direst circumstances would the fyrd¡ªthe peasant army be called to action.  The peasants appreciated this, until it was time for one of their sons to be conscripted.  Then they hated it and protested, but it was an effective way for the men to raise their station in life.  Soldiers in his army could get promoted to high and well-paying positions.


    Not all the way to a lordship position¡ªthose were reserved for high-blooded men who formed the basis of the heavy cavalry¡ªthe commanders, generals, and other such knightly positions.  The knights of the realm were not a part of the regular standing army but were called up as required.


    The lord-general regularly impressed upon the king the need to have the knights do service as part of the regular standing army, but Llarwyn refused.  If he allowed that, he would have a revolt on his hands in an instant.  As much as the knights talked of the glory of battle, they much preferred the luxuries of home and courtly life.  They would rather be jousting and drinking than fighting and dying.


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    ¡°Would you like my report, Your Grace?¡±


    Llarwyn set the arrowhead back down.  ¡°Not your official one, no.  Save that for the council meeting.  Tell me about what¡¯s been going on outside these walls.¡±


    Lord Harmin nodded.  ¡°It is as you suspected, Your Grace.  Both the Shielders and the Star Children have been sending secret envoys to the nobles.  They seem to be trying to gain support for their respective groups, but it¡¯s still not clear whether they are trying to undermine the nobility¡¯s support for you.¡±


    That figured.  Both groups always had machinations brewing.  Of the two, he thought he hated the Star Children more.  At least the Shielders had a job to do, and they did it.  The Star Children were nothing more than religious zealots.


    The Star Children, who called themselves the Courageous Order of the Heavens, though Llarwyn saw nothing courageous about them, were a violent group of religious zealots.  They believed that the greatest danger facing the entire island of Laryndor came from the outer reaches of the heavens.


    According to their beliefs, there were creatures that existed on Laryndor that came from another world.  There were plenty of strange creatures and monsters out in the wilderness to make that claim seem plausible.  However, they believed that these creatures were sentient and bent on destroying society.  The Star Children claimed to be the only thing standing in the way of these invaders from space and their complete destruction.


    ¡°The Star Children are probably on a recruitment drive among the nobility.  It¡¯s happened before.¡±


    Llarwyn tolerated the Star Children, but did not like them.  They were gaining popularity among the peasantry and could soon be a problem that he would have to address.  If they began to make inroads into the nobility, that could spell real trouble for him.


    The Shielders were another matter.  There wouldn¡¯t be any issue with banning the Star Children, besides putting down the revolts they might cause.  That wasn¡¯t something he could do to the Shielders.


    They called themselves Guardians of the Shield.  It was their job to maintain and uphold the magical shield that surrounded the entire island of Laryndor and protected it from whatever lay beyond.  They had existed for so long, no one knew where their order had come from.


    They were arrogant and pompous to anyone outside of themselves, but rarely resorted to violence, except against the Star Children.  The two groups shared a dislike for each other that Llarwyn encouraged.  As long as they were fighting each other, they wouldn¡¯t have the resources to fight him.


    Of the two groups, the Shielders held a great deal more power.  They had ambassadors in every kingdom, including the kingdom of the elves.  They required each to pay a tax for the maintenance of the Shield, which Llarwyn paid reluctantly.


    They were disciplined, well organized, and strong in battle.  It was rare to see them march onto the field, but on the rare occasions it happened, you were guaranteed a swift defeat.  That was why all the kingdoms paid their tax.  Out of fear of the Shielders¡¯ army, not out of respect for their job maintaining the Shield.


    Most believed the Shield to be protecting the island from nothing, and some even doubted its existence.  Not Llarwyn.  He had seen the magical glowing barrier up close.  His ambassador, Shield Lord Barin had taken him on a journey to see it.  He had wanted to see how it was generated and managed, but Barin refused, saying it was sacrilege for anyone but a Shielder to see that up close. He did, however, see the Shield itself, and it was awe-inspiring. It was hundreds, if not thousands of meters tall; it glowed a purple so pale it might have been blue. It was slightly translucent, so you could see through it, but not more than a few meters.


    ¡°That is most likely the case, Your Grace.  However, the activities of the Shielders are unusual for them.  Their normal interactions with the nobility are only at official state functions.  They don¡¯t seek them out directly.¡±


    Llarwyn walked to the open window and stared out at the city that was the capital of his kingdom.  From their viewpoint on Mot¡¯s Hill, he could just make out the docks and the ships coming and going.  He could tell the place was a frenzy of activity, but he couldn¡¯t make out what was going on.  He didn¡¯t need to, though.  Ships were loaded and unloaded every day at the docks.


    ¡°Is this going to be a problem?¡± he asked his general.  He hoped not.  He didn¡¯t like his chances in open conflict with the Shielders.


    ¡°It¡¯s still not clear what they¡¯re doing.  They might just be going behind your back to suggest to the nobility that they encourage you to send more gold.  I¡¯ll keep my people digging, but I recommend not bringing this up at the council meeting.  Shield Lord Barin will be in attendance this month.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.  What are the nobles saying about these, discussions?¡±


    ¡°They have not said anything yet, at least not around my spies.  Give me time. I am sure their tongues will waggle, or they¡¯ll leave documents around at opportune times.¡±


    ¡°Very well.  Anything else to report that can¡¯t wait until the council meeting?¡±


    ¡°I may have found a replacement for the vacant Royal Inquisitor post.  Someone I trust.¡±


    Llarwyn turned towards him and gave him a long stare.  Unlike others in the nobility who would wither under his gaze, the lord-general just stared back, unaffected.  That was one reason he liked the man.  He was a soldier, and unafraid of those above him.


    There was nothing disrespectful in his stare.  He just had the look of a main waiting for orders from his superior.


    ¡°It is not vacant, lord-general.  It is yours.¡±


    The lord-general¡¯s gaze softened to an almost condescending expression.  ¡°Your Grace, I am a soldier, not a spy.  I have taken up these duties as ordered, but there are other, more suitable men for the role.¡±


    ¡°Are there, lord-general?  It is precisely because you are a soldier that I want you in that post.  You will obey my orders.  You will not scheme against me.  I trust you implicitly.  There are not many others I could say that about.¡±  He shot a quick glance to his son Alfyn.


    ¡°Please, Your Grace, just meet with her.¡±


    ¡°Her?¡±  He asked.  It would be unusual for him to give a woman such an important role.  That was sure to generate gossip.  He wouldn¡¯t mind if she were competent and discreet but giving the post to someone else made him uncomfortable.  As king, he always had a target on his back, and he had to be mindful of that.


    ¡°Yes, Your Grace.  She is one of my soldiers.  One who carries out, shall we say, special assignments.¡±


    An assassin, then.  ¡°Very well, arrange a meeting.¡±


    *


    Alfyn stormed out of the meeting in a huff.  He resisted slamming the door, as his father would not tolerate an angry outburst.  He knew his father had his best interests in mind, and that he was trying to ensure that not only would be a great king, but that he would be king at all.  The nobility was fickle, and if they didn¡¯t like the crown prince, they would unhesitatingly choose someone else, and since they were the ones with the knights, it was best to appease them.  With the lord-general¡¯s army spread all over the kingdom, even he wouldn¡¯t try to start a war with the nobility.


    Still, his father needed to trust him.  He did have a plan, and it didn¡¯t involve just murdering anyone who might challenge his claim to the throne¡ªthough that was his normal preference.  A dead rival couldn¡¯t come back and usurp his authority later.


    It was time to put a part of his plan into action.  Just a small part¡ªthe one dealing with Aeolwyn, his youngest brother.  He didn¡¯t understand why his father thought he would be the biggest threat to him.  Aeolwyn was a small and sickly child.  Sure, a lot of people gave him attention, but that was because they felt sorry for him.  What could a boy of 12 do to him?  Alfyn had a decade of experience on his brother and wasn¡¯t sickly or weak.  He¡¯d been in battle!  Could his brother make that claim?  No.  His brother still had trouble holding onto the practice sword Sir Jom, the master-at-arms, gave him.


    Still, he had an idea that he wasn¡¯t sure would work.  Just a little conversation with the boy, and Aeolwyn would do all the rest.  There wouldn¡¯t be any harm in just a few simple questions, would there?  Alfyn couldn¡¯t take the blame if Aeolwyn misunderstood his curiosity and took the wrong action, could he?


    Aeolwyn was always eager to please, especially someone he looked up to, like his older brother Alfyn.  All he needed was a little push in the right direction, and the boy would fall right into his hands.


    Alfyn skipped down the hallway, unconcerned about what the servants might think.

 1: A Boy in a Castle

    Part I: A Prince and a Palace


    The riverboat drifted listlessly down the river Tyr, its sail flapping as it luffed against the wind.  Its wide beam seemed to stretch nearly half the width of the river, suggesting that it only plied its trade up and down the Tyr, the only river that ran the entire length of the island of Laryndor.


    The ship rode low in the water, and all the trade goods piled high on deck and in its cargo hold drove it even lower.  The water line ran nearly to the scupper holes.  It appeared overloaded.  One strong gust could push its slight list too far and capsize the vessel.  It sailed on, unconcerned about the precarious position it was in.


    The Cressard¡¯s Folly, as the boat was named, made its course downriver towards Fort Camulan, most likely its next stop on its journey, unloading some cargo for sale, while picking up a load of something else, then heading further south towards towns like Kaenshire, Wilton, and ultimately Tambryne, the seat of the kingdom of the same name.


    Fort Camulan took its name from its own kingdom but was not the capital.  The capital of the Kingdom of Camulan was far to the west, on the shores of the Dyadic Sea.  The fort was situated on the kingdom¡¯s frontier, close to its border with the neighboring kingdom of Fennland.  The peace between Camulan and the Fenns was always an uneasy one, and they were always on the brink of war.  Fort Camulan existed solely to protect the frontier from the ruthless tribes that raided across the border.


    While a frontier outpost, its proximity to the land of the Fenns has given the fort ample time to grow from a simple wooden hill fort to a massive stone structure.  Not as elegant or comfortable as a palace in the capital, the fort was a series of thick stone buildings surrounded by a tall stone wall.


    A small village, known as Foregate, had grown up outside the fort with all the things a remote fort might need, blacksmiths, ale houses, brothels, and, further out, near the wilderness that borders the fort, the Arch Temple of Laryn.


    A few roads exited the fort, the largest of which was known as the King¡¯s Road or Teorton Road.  This road, wide enough to fit three large war wagons, was the main artery between Fort Camulan and the capital, Teorton.


    A long caravan plodded slowly down the dusty road.  At its head, a group of mounted soldiers in shining armor surrounded an older soldier with a greying beard that dressed nicer than the rest.  His plate armor shone like the sun and was intricately engraved for those brave enough to look at it.  His helmet, tied to his saddle made a soft clink as his massive war horse plodded along.  His face bore a sour expression, as though he were displeased with the smell of the horse in front of him.


    Behind the mounted soldiers were a company of infantry dressed in bright green doublets and tan trousers.  Those at the front wore chainmail armor and carried long spears and halberds.  The group behind them carried large shields with longswords at their hips.  The men bringing up the rear of the infantry all carried longbows.


    Trailing the infantry was a series of wagons, flanked on either side with solders carrying spears and bows.  The lead carriages were decorated, suggesting they carried people of important ranks with their wives and children.  Behind those, battered war wagons carried supplies, extra weapons, medicine, and water.


    The long dusty road carried on into the distance, past rolling hills, through woods and small forests.  It continued, veering around obstacles, serving as a main thoroughfare for small villages and towns, until it reached the coast.


    Standing between it and the sea lay a bustling city.  Outside the city¡¯s large walls was that would be best described as a shantytown to those residents wealthy enough to live inside the city¡¯s walls.  Makeshift houses built out of whatever could be found nearby dotted the roads that seemed to snake through at random.


    Along the King¡¯s Road, here called Camulan Road, a small cart made its way towards the city gates.  Dirty, poorly dressed hawkers, beggars, and thieves called out to the cart as it ambled along, its driver doing his best to ignore the rabble, while keeping an eye on them, his cart¡¯s contents, and his purse.


    The clean, cobbled streets of the wealthier parts of town slowly gave way to the dirty, dusty sections of the Docks, where the King¡¯s Road finally ended.  A long pier jutted straight out from the road and was crossed by a second and third pier where four carracks were moored.  The deckhands and the dockworkers were furiously unloading cargo.


    One man, bare-chested and in dirty pantaloons stopped, untied the colored sash around his waist, and raised it to his forehead to wipe the dirt and sweat from his brow.  In this heat, he did this more often than his foreman would appreciate, but the foreman was somewhere else, doing paperwork, so what he didn¡¯t know wouldn¡¯t hurt him.


    The dockworker looked up the road at Mot¡¯s Hill, staring longingly at the beautiful palace that seemed to grow from the hill¡¯s top.  The men up on the hill were not outside in this heat.  They were probably lounging indoors, next to a fresh clean bathing pool, drinking a bottle of wine that cost more than the dockworker made in a year.


    Inside the palace, servants scurried about unseen by the nobility until they disappeared behind a secret door that existed for the sole purpose of keeping those who kept the palace running out of view of its occupants.


    Some servants hustled about with trays of food.  Others washed the floors and walls or replaced candles.  Still more were at the tapestries, ensuring that the wall coverings were clean and in good repair.  They depicted major events in the Kingdom of Camulan¡¯s history, and the king decreed that those events were so important that if a single tapestry were to fall into disrepair, the entire staff whose job it was to maintain them would be put to death.


    One servant hurried a tray of cool drinks down the halls and out into the gardens where two men were seated at a large table.  One man was beginning to show grey at his temples, but his strong muscles still clung to his body like iron.  He wore a chainmail shirt as comfortably as others in the palace wore silks.


    The other, just a young boy on the verge of entering his teens wore an unlaced, loose fitting silk shirt and trousers made of fine linen.  He was gazing intently at the items on the table lost in thought.  The older man watched him carefully.


    On the table was a collection of military figures set out in various formations.  Some were archers, other pikemen, and still more were basic infantry.  The smallest of the lot were the lancers on horseback.  Each of the units had their own flags decorated with various patterns and insignias.


    To a careful observer, these were two armies battling each other.  The army on the older man¡¯s side was larger, and beside him, the collection of his opponents¡¯ dead troops suggested that the boy was losing badly.


    The boy took a block of mounted soldiers and moved them from behind his shrinking line of infantry to just in front of his opponent¡¯s infantry.  The older man had already placed pikemen on his front line, which is where the boy¡¯s knights had been placed.


    ¡°What are you doing, Aeolwyn?  You know that your knights will be slaughtered by the pikemen!¡±


    ¡°Make your move, Sir Jom,¡± the boy replied.


    Sir Jom shrugged and moved his pikemen forward into the group of knights.  He rolled some dice and removed several of them from the field.  ¡°Told you, son.¡±


    Aeolwyn smiled.  Sir Jom had fallen right into his trap.  On his turn he pulled his light cavalry from the wings and into the sides of the pikemen.  A few rolls of the dice and the entire middle of Sir Jom¡¯s infantry line was obliterated.


    On his turn, the old man rushed to fill the gap, but it was too late.  What remained of Aeolwyn¡¯s knights, his light cavalry, and his infantry rushed into the gap.  His light cavalry slaughtered the archers before Sir Jom had a chance to deploy them.  The few surviving knights and the infantry obliterated Jom¡¯s infantry.  It was over in a few short turns.


    Jom conceded defeat.  ¡°Well played, your highness,¡± he said.  ¡°You¡¯ve won, but at what cost?  Knights and cavalry are expensive and difficult to train.  Dead men can¡¯t fight the next battle.¡±


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    ¡°A dead army can¡¯t fight any battle,¡± the boy answered.


    ¡°True enough, son.  But if you sacrificed your nobility¡¯s sons like that, you¡¯d have a revolt on your hands.  Battle isn¡¯t just about field strategy.  There are always political considerations to manage as well.¡±


    Aeolwyn began cleaning the pieces up.  ¡°Political considerations are for my brother to worry about.  A general¡¯s concern is for winning the battle.¡±


    Aeolwyn would never be king.  He had come to accept this long ago.  He didn¡¯t want the throne anyway.  Everything his father did seemed boring to him.  He wanted to be a general in Camulan¡¯s army.  In truth, he wanted to be the general.  The one in charge of the entire army.


    ¡°Your brother would throw you in a dungeon if you incited a revolt.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d have to get through my army first,¡± Aeolwyn said wryly.


    Sir Jom stormed up to Aeolwyn.  The larger man towered over the boy.  He gave Aeolwyn a long hard stare until the boy wilted in front of him.  Aeolwyn may have been a prince, but in this instance, it was clear who was in charge.


    ¡°That kind of arrogance will get you killed,¡± Sir Jom said.


    Was it arrogance when he knew he was the best military strategist in the kingdom?  No one told him he was, but he already knew he would defeat anyone on the battlefield.  Every loss to Sir Jom was a victory to him.  Why?  Because he learned something about Sir Jom¡¯s careful tactics.  The man wasn¡¯t willing to take risks¡ªhis idea of acceptable losses was none.


    Aeolwyn knew better.  War was about killing and dying.  Sure, you had to make sure your men killed more than they died, but dying was a necessary part of war.  Sometimes the best strategy was to put your hand in the beast¡¯s mouth to stab it through the heart.


    He debated whether he should argue with Sir Jom.  Jom was his father¡¯s master-at-arms, and Aeolwyn¡¯s mentor in all matters relating to combat, including weapons training, horsemanship, leadership, and military tactics.


    He chose against it.  He knew where that would lead.  He would be doing strength drills until bedtime, and it was barely mid-morning.  He didn¡¯t want to go to bed sore, tired, and hungry.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he answered.


    Sir Jom seemed to be satisfied with that answer.


    ¡°Now I should send you off to carry the barrels of stone.  You still are too lean for a soldier.¡± Jom squeezed Aeolwyn¡¯s arm.  ¡°But I won¡¯t.¡±


    Jom went back to his seat across the table and sat down.  ¡°I won¡¯t because this is a good lesson for you.  Now, what would Lord Oxley have done if it was one of his sons you sent to a useless death?¡±


    ¡°He would be upset.¡±


    Jom smiled.  ¡°Yes, of course he would be.  Now what if the sons of ten other members of the Lord¡¯s Council were also killed?¡±


    ¡°They would revolt?¡± Aeolwyn asked sheepishly.


    ¡°Quite possibly,¡± Jom agreed.  ¡°And what would you do to rebellious nobles?¡±


    ¡°Crush them,¡± Aeolwyn said, squeezing his hand into a tight fist to enunciate the point.


    ¡°Ok, so you¡¯ve defeated their armies, burned their houses and salted their fields.  What about the rest of the members of the Lord¡¯s Council?  Do you think they would raise you up as a hero because you murdered their friends?  Or would they be afraid for their own houses after that?¡±


    They would stay quiet, if they knew what was good for them.  Aeolwyn was smart enough to recognize that Jom wouldn¡¯t like that answer.  The old master was trying to teach the boy a lesson on the intricacies of politics.  He found it boring and didn¡¯t see its relevance since he would never be king.


    ¡°They might revolt also.¡±  That was the answer that Sir Jom was looking for.


    The man smiled.  ¡°Indeed they might.  And then you¡¯d have a civil war on your hands as well as a war with the Elves or the Fenns, or whoever you were battling today.¡±


    Aeolwyn pounded his fist on the table.  ¡°Then the nobles would bring their sons home, and my army would be diminished.  The enemy would win without losing a single man.¡±


    ¡°Well done, your Highness.¡±  Sir Jom took all Aeolwyn¡¯s remaining knights off the table and put them behind the remainder of Aeolwyn¡¯s army.   ¡°And now you have your best fighters behind you as well as your enemy in front of you.  That is not a good position to be in.¡±


    Aeolwyn resolved then and there to never depend on soldiers from nobility in his military strategies.  He would need to learn how to fight without them.  He did not want to be the type of soldier whose success was dependent on the whims of others.


    ¡°Why do I need to know this stuff?¡± He asked.  ¡°I¡¯m never going to be king.  Keeping the nobles happy is my brother¡¯s job.¡±


    ¡°If you think the king is the only one who has to deal with scheming nobles, then I have failed as your teacher.¡±


    ¡°I am going to have to learn politics too?¡±


    Sir Jom nodded.  ¡°Yes.  And don¡¯t think it¡¯s just the nobles who will be scheming against you.  Threats will come from all sides, including from your friends and family.¡±


    ¡°My family?¡± he asked, suddenly alarmed.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Sir Jom replied, idly twirling one of his own dead horsemen.  ¡°Just because you aren¡¯t going to be king doesn¡¯t mean you won¡¯t have power.  And anyone who wields power is a threat.¡±


    How could anyone in his family feel threatened by him?  That just wasn¡¯t right.  He loved his family and would do nothing to betray them.  He was the youngest brother.  He would never be king, even if Alfyn died.  His brothers Ulfnar and Wolfyrn were next in line.  He couldn¡¯t imagine all three of them dying.


    Besides, he didn¡¯t want to be king anyway.  He wanted to command his brother¡¯s army and win battles for him.  That would be a lot more fun than sitting in a palace all day listening to petitioners and nobles complaining all day.


    ¡°Now go.  We have martial training this afternoon, and I want to eat and have a nap beforehand.¡±


    Aeolwyn needed no other encouragement.  He bolted from the gardens and raced to the kitchen.  If Sir Jom was going to need food and a nap before the training session, Aeolwyn would need double.


    He hurried through the gardens into the halls with their polished stone walls and tiled floors.  They were so wide; he thought he would be able to march an army through them.  Between the alcoves and wall sconces that provided light at night, the walls were decorated with paintings and tapestries.  The paintings were usually of past kings, queens, and other nobles, while the tapestries depicted great battles from Camulan¡¯s past.


    The most recent ones depicted his great-grandfather¡¯s battles with the Elves and Fenns.  Those were Aeolwyn¡¯s favorites.  He could describe every battle they depicted.  From examining the tapestries, he could see the strategies that played out and the mistakes the Fenns made.


    The elves were stronger and much cleverer.  They made fewer strategic mistakes in their battles, but they made some, and Aeolwyn could see how his great-grandfather¡¯s army exploited them and drove the elves back into Wickshire.


    One day, there would be tapestries on these walls depicting Aeolwyn¡¯s victories.


    One of the tapestries always puzzled him though.  Its faded colors and fraying threads proved it was ancient.  It depicted a battle with the Guardians of the Shield alongside a Fennish army and one from Camulan.  Together they were battling against some army that Aeolwyn did not recognize.


    The Fennish were their mortal enemies.  Why would the battle alongside them?  And why would the Shielders take part?  The Shielders had one of the best armies in all Laryndor, and their weapons all seemed to be made of some form of steel that was harder, stronger, and sharper.  A recipe that they kept to themselves.  But they joined no battles.  They would defend themselves if attacked, but never went on campaign.


    They spent all their time shut up in their various Shield Halls tending to the Shield, the magical forcefield that surrounded all Laryndor.


    Aeolwyn always wondered what was beyond it.  He had asked Shield Lord Barin once, but all that he would say was that death lay beyond the shield and that the people of Laryndor should be thankful that the Shielders were there to maintain the Shield.


    He would sure like to visit their blacksmith and see how they forged their weapons and armor.  Every one of their soldiers had a full kit.  Every one.  How could they afford that?  Sure, every kingdom in Laryndor paid them to maintain the shield, but even that much gold wouldn¡¯t be enough to buy all their soldier¡¯s plate armor, shields, and a high-quality sword.  They had a lot of secrets, and he wanted to know them all.


    One day he would find out.


    The palace had three kitchens spread out across the entire palace grounds.  There was a formal one that prepared the dinners and all the meals for the king.  They would be busy preparing tonight¡¯s dinner.  Another one, on the opposite side of the palace mostly fed the courtesans and nobles who were visiting.  The final one was deep in the bowels of the servants¡¯ quarters and fed the servants and staff.  This one was Aeolwyn¡¯s favorite.  The staff always had some amazing stories, and the cook always had a treat for him.


    He supposed he technically wasn¡¯t allowed to eat in that kitchen.  There weren¡¯t any tasters to test for poisons, the food wasn¡¯t the right quality, and as royalty, he wasn¡¯t supposed to consort with those of such a low station.  He still snuck his way in when he could.


    As much as he wanted to get a sweet from the servant kitchen, he decided better of it and went to the courtesan kitchen.  The food there was always tested, and the chief cook kept a stern eye on all the cooks that worked under her.


    The courtesan kitchen was a sooty, dimly lit room in the back rooms of the palace.  The cook employed a staff of young boys to sweep up the soot every evening, but there was only so much scrubbing they could do before the fires had to start up again.


    It was as large as his bedroom, twice as big as the servant¡¯s kitchen, and half the size of the royal kitchen.  On one wall a huge fire was raging, giving the room a stifling heat.  On another were racks of dried meats, vegetables, and fruit.  In between were a series of tables where cooks were chopping items, stirring soups, and kneading dough, all overseen by the chief cook.


    She was a massive woman.  As tall as Sir Jom, and twice as thick.  Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure which of the two would win in a fight.  Her hands were rough and calloused like Sir Jom¡¯s were, but from a different sort of work.


    ¡°Prince Aeolwyn!¡± she shouted.  ¡°What are you doing here?  Out! Out!¡±  She chased after him with a rolling pin that was as deadly as any practice sword Sir Jom wielded on him.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry!¡± He shouted, dodging her swings.


    ¡°Fine!  Up to your apartments with you.  I¡¯ll have someone send a big tray.  Big enough to feed the sickness right out of you!¡±


    He ran before she could get a blow in with her rolling pin, but not before he grabbed a sweetbread from the table.


    He hated that everyone called him the sickly boy.  He just wasn¡¯t as big as other boys of his age.  He had been sick with a pox when he was younger, but the doctors and mages finally cured him.  He was getting better, bigger, and stronger every day, but he couldn¡¯t escape the label.


    One day he would.  He would show everyone how strong he was.

 2: A Family Dinner

    Davinya loved and hated this room.  She loved the beautiful decorations on the walls, the ornately inlayed table, the way the windows would let a light breeze in, but not bring the stink of the docks with it.


    She hated what it and its opulence represented.  An upper class of citizens who get and maintain their wealth and power by standing on the backs of those who do the actual work.  How many loaves of bread would just one inch of gold in this room buy?  How many starving people would it feed?  And the room was full of gold.


    Lilting melodies from a lutenist behind a screen floated through the air. She idly stirred her tea in its ornate gold-leaf cup.  She hadn¡¯t had a sip yet, and it was probably already cold.  She wasn¡¯t allowed to drink it yet, since the man at the head of the table hadn¡¯t taken a sip of his yet.


    She wished she was, like her mother, allowed to skip these dinners. It was infuriating how much the queen was allowed to get away with.


    That man was her father, King Llarwyn I, and he was fuming.  Aeolwyn was late.  Again.  They didn¡¯t have these formal family dinners as much as they used to, but they still had them every month, and everyone was expected to be dressed formally, and more importantly, on time.


    No one spoke.  They were all afraid of receiving their father¡¯s wrath, so they just sat, eyeing each other nervously.  Her blond sister Filliya hadn¡¯t looked up from her tea once.  That wasn¡¯t particularly unusual for Filliya though.  She was extremely shy, and rarely spoke to anyone except for their brother Ulfnar, though she spoke to his twin Wolfryn on occasions when Ulfnar wasn¡¯t present.


    The twins were identical in appearance but couldn¡¯t be more different from each other in personality.  Wolfryn wore his hair long, but today had it neatly tied back in a ponytail.  He was strong and well-built, usually preferring the company of horses and soldiers to that of his own family.


    Ulfnar though, spent his time drinking and gambling with the courtesans and nobility.  He was well known to stay up late into the night and sleep most of the morning away.  Unlike his brother, the brown hair they shared was well-groomed and greased slick back atop his head.  He wore a goatee that was equally oiled.


    Where his brother was strong and muscular, Ulfnar was thin, giving him the appearance of being taller when they stood side by side, though the two were of equal height.


    In terms of age, the two were younger than Davinya, but older than Filliya and Aeolwyn.  Davinya was second oldest.  The only one of them older was Alfyn, the crown prince.  Though he was the oldest and tallest, he fit between his two brothers in build.  He was stronger and bigger than Ulfnar, though not as heavily muscled as Wolfryn.


    Alfyn always dressed better than anyone in the room except his father.  His wool doublets and trousers were finely embroidered, and he wore his trousers tucked into his boots so that the expensive designs on them were always on display.


    He had recently taken to wearing a gold circlet around his head to remind everyone that he was the crown prince.  The king himself had said nothing about it, even though he only wore his crown during official state functions.


    And at the moment, Crown Prince Alfyn was staring at her.  He stared so often that she expected to be used to it by now, but she wasn¡¯t.  Uncomfortable was one word she could use to describe how she felt about his stares.  Disgusted was a better one.


    She wished she had a spell that would force him to stop looking at her.


    ¡°Where is that boy?¡± her father said suddenly.  There was an undertone of rage in his voice.  He didn¡¯t like to be kept waiting; he saw it as a sign of disrespect to the throne.


    ¡°Last I saw him he was in the yard with Sir Jom going over sword forms,¡± Wolfryn said, no sign of fear in his voice.


    ¡°That is not an excuse,¡± the king said.  ¡°He and Sir Jom were both told about tonight¡¯s dinner.  Jom would not have kept him.  Whatever reason he is late is his alone.¡±


    ¡°I for one am excited to hear the excuse he provides,¡± Alfyn put in.  Though he sounded cheerful, there was a menacing undertone to his voice.  A tone he used often, and Davinya didn¡¯t like it.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Wolfryn asked.


    ¡°Well, just that he always seems to have an excu¡ª"


    The door burst open and Aeolwyn strode in.  He was still dressed in a dirty padded training doublet soaked with sweat.  His wavy fire-red hair was wild and unkept.  He had a lump on his head and a bruise forming on his cheek.  His trousers were stained with dirt and grass.


    He walked up to their father like he was on his way to get a medal.  He bowed when he reached the king and said, ¡°Greetings, father.  I apologize for my tardiness.¡±


    ¡°Sit!¡± the king replied.


    Aeolwyn scurried away and sat on the only remaining seat, at the far end of the table, next to Ulfnar and Alfyn who sat at the opposite end of the table from the king.


    ¡°What took you so long, boy?  We are not servants for you to wait on.¡±


    ¡°I was in the yard with Sir Jom,¡± Aeolwyn replied.


    ¡°And then what?  Sir Jom knew about this dinner and would not have kept you.  Clearly you were not getting cleaned up.  You disgrace this table and your family by coming here dressed like this!¡±


    Her father¡¯s face reddened as he spoke.  He was working himself up into a frenzy, as he often did when he was angry.  His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edges of the table.


    ¡°I should banish you from this table.  That would be a fitting punishment, I think.  You can get your scraps from the servant¡¯s kitchen.¡±


    Davinya knew, as did her father that Aeolwyn was fond of visiting the servant¡¯s kitchen.  That would be no punishment for Aeolwyn. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but feel sorry for her little brother.  His shoulders drooped at every word that came out of his father¡¯s mouth, and he hung his head low.


    ¡°I have no excuse, father,¡± he said, looking up, showing the king his blue eyes, which were already welling up with tears.  ¡°After I was dismissed from the yard, I took the long way back to my room and got to thinking about the strategy lesson I had with Sir Jom this morning.  I went to the garden to review our battle and think on the tactics he taught me, and the mistakes I made.  I was so lost in the fight that I lost track of time.  Please don¡¯t banish me!¡±


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    She could see her father¡¯s heart melting at Aeolwyn¡¯s explanation.  Despite his harsh words, he had a soft spot for the boy.  Everyone did.  He had a way with people.  His mere presence could light up a dull room if he wished it.  She sometimes wondered if he had Laryn¡¯s magic and wanted to know where he had learned it.


    She wished to learn magic.  There were always political and other kinds of scheming in this family.  She was not the best player of the underhanded game, Alfyn was the best at that.  She wasn¡¯t clever or charming like Aeolwyn, and she¡¯d never have the strength of Wolfryn.  She needed some way to protect herself.


    She¡¯d asked her father for permission to study under Jor Bashi, her father¡¯s royal mage, but he had not yet granted her permission.  He¡¯d said he needed time to think on it, and whether she would have time for her other royal duties while studying with the old mage.  That was a year ago.


    Their father snapped his fingers, and the servants with trays of food appeared.  Davinya wasn¡¯t sure exactly where they had come from.  They came from nowhere.  She knew they had their own corridors and doors, but to see them manifest without hearing a door open was unnerving.


    Three servants brought out an ornately decorated porcelain cup steaming with soup.  The other three brought glasses filled to the brim with wine and set them in front of the seated group.


    Based on the smell, it was a barley soup, which Davinya and her brothers hated, but their father loved.  Which meant, of course, that they all had to eat it and pretend to like it.  When they were younger, a 5-year-old Aeolwyn announced to the group that he hated the soup, their father had him taken to the garden and whipped.  He wasn¡¯t allowed to eat for a week.


    Since then, everyone acted like the barley soup was the best thing they had ever tasted.


    ¡°Father, you¡¯ll never guess what I saw down at the docks today!¡± Ulfnar said suddenly.  Davinya groaned internally.  The last thing she wanted was for someone to drag her father into a discussion during the soup course.  They all had an unspoken rule that no one was to speak during soup so they could all get it over with as fast as possible.


    The servants weren¡¯t allowed to clear the bowls or bring the next course until the king was finished, so the longer he took, the longer they had to take.


    ¡°What in Laryn were you doing down at the docks?  That¡¯s a dangerous place for a royal.  Please tell me you took Wolfryn with you!¡±


    ¡°I was collecting on a debt,¡± her brother replied casually.  ¡°Don¡¯t worry.  I took precautions.  I was disguised well enough that even you wouldn¡¯t have recognized me!¡±


    Ulfnar was well known to all the courtesans as a gambler.  He usually lost more than he won, and they liked him for that, but if he won and someone didn¡¯t pay him, he would track them down and insist on payment.  It was the principle of the thing, according to him.  Even if he didn¡¯t need the money and the debt was a pittance.


    ¡°Stay out of the docks,¡± their father said and went back to his soup.


    Ulfnar¡¯s face dropped, and he looked sullen.  He was always looking for the king¡¯s approval and rarely got it.  Their father saved most of his approval for Alfyn and Wolfryn.


    ¡°Ulfnar, what did you see at the docks?¡± Wolfryn said after a moment.


    ¡°A dwarf!  Like a real live dwarf straight out of the mines of Wicken¡¯s Hall!  It was amazing.  He looked exactly like they do in the pictures.  Short of stature, stocky of build, flaming red hair and a braided beard.  He was even carrying a miner¡¯s pick!¡±


    Dwarves were a humanoid species that was rarely seen in Southern Laryndor.  They mostly stayed in their underground cities in the Stormdren Mountains far to the north of Camulan.  They were a secretive species, few knew what they did up in the mountains. Most believed all they did was tunnel and forge some of the best weapons and armor in all of Laryndor.


    ¡°Really?  A dwarf?¡±  Aeolwyn¡¯s excitement bubbled over and he knocked over his soup.  The hot liquid raced across the table and down into his lap.  He yelped when it hit his legs and he jumped backwards out of his chair, and stumbled, knocking the chair over and falling on top of it.


    ¡°And this is why we don¡¯t talk during soup,¡± Filliya said.


    Once again, the servants appeared out of the ether and ran to clean off Aeolwyn and help him back into his seat.  He pushed them away and picked himself up, righted the chair, and sat back down.


    ¡°Aeolwyn, sit down,¡± Llarwyn said.  ¡°Eat your soup.  No more talk about dwarves.¡±


    Thankfully, no one spoke for the rest of the soup course.  Everyone mechanically choked down the contents of the bowl, except for their father, who relished every spoonful.  Davinya finished as fast as she could, swallowing hot spoonfuls without care of being burned.


    Her siblings did the same, which left all of them in the unfortunate situation of now having to wait for their father to finish his soup.  The second course wouldn¡¯t come out until he was ready for it.  That meant that if they waited too long to finish a course, it would be taken away if the king was ready for his.


    They had all tried to exploit this rule to not eat the barley soup, but the king wanted to make sure everyone had the pleasure of the soup, so he would wait for everyone to finish before calling for the next course ¨C or he knew they hated the soup and wanted to punish them by forcing them to eat it.


    Finally, after what seemed an eternity, their father had finished his soup and called for the servants to take it away.  They scurried in and out like the cockroaches that infested the buildings in Lower Teorton.  In truth, that¡¯s how most of the nobility thought of the servants.  Cockroaches with a function.


    The second course came quickly after the soup.  Davinya was thankful; she was famished.  The soup barely put a dent in her hunger.  Today it was roast quail with vegetables.  A common enough meal for them, quail were plentiful in the inner reaches of Camulan.


    It was a meal for the nobility though.  Quail were virtually absent from Teorton.  If the peasants wished to have bird, they would have to settle for the many types of gulls that inhabited the docks.  This was a common practice for the poor, who were known to eat them raw.


    ¡°I hear the elves are getting more active along the border,¡± Aeolwyn said.  ¡°Sir Jom said we should be careful of raids.¡±


    ¡°Elves are always raiding across our border, Aeolwyn,¡± Alfyn said, shooting glances at her while he spoke.  ¡°This is nothing new.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we stop them, father?¡±  Aeolwyn¡¯s question seemed to pointedly ignore Alfyn¡¯s response.  It would have been insulting if everyone didn¡¯t already know how much their youngest brother worshipped the crown prince.


    ¡°We raid them, they raid us, it¡¯s happened for centuries,¡± their father answered around a mouthful of bird.  ¡°That¡¯s retaliation enough.  Attempting to stop it would mean deploying more soldiers to patrol the region, leaving other areas undefended.¡±


    His father sucked the grease off his fingers before continuing, ¡°Besides, a military buildup in the region would cause the elves to do the same.  The increased tension in the region would inevitably lead to a skirmish, and that could explode into a full-on war, something we don¡¯t want.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all a careful negotiation of politics,¡± Alfyn said, his lecturing tone dripping with condescension.


    He glanced over at Davinya again, smiling.  There was something in his look that she found disgusting.  Something that hinted of lust.  How could he have such feelings for her?  They were brother and sister!


    Although he didn¡¯t come out and say he was attracted to her, his comments about her physical attributes made such a confession unnecessary.  She worried about what would happen to her when their father died and Alfyn inherited the throne.  While the nobility would rebel if he broke convention and took her as a wife, there would be no such outrage if he took her as a mistress, and as king, there was little she could do to prevent it.


    She would have to do something to protect herself when that happened, because she was sure it was nothing more than an inevitability.  Whether her father approved or not, she would find a way to discreetly approach Jor Bashi.  He was sure to listen.  Whether or not he would accept her as an apprentice without her father¡¯s approval was another matter.


    Perhaps he wouldn¡¯t even tell the king.  He was known for his discretion.  That was one of the reasons his father had named him Royal Steward of the Chancellery.  Not that she knew what that job entailed, though she suspected it was related to the amount of time he spent in the dungeons and the courts.


    Well, if Jor Bashi wouldn¡¯t teach her magic, she would find someone else who would.  There were other mages devoted to the Temple of Laryn.  One of them would certainly be willing to teach a princess, both for the gold, and the reputation it would provide.

 3: Children of the Stars

    The sea air stunk, even after dark when all of the dock workers had either gone home or retired to the pub to drink away the aches of the day.  Tonight was no exception, unless the exception was that it was worse.


    Star Child Fraius cut off the main road down a dark alley.  The cobblestones of the street gave way to dirty mud filled with nightsoil.  Fraius thanked himself for remembering to wear his clogs on this trip, else his sandaled feet would have had to step in the raw sewage.


    Condensation dripped from the brick walls in the alley, making a tiny little splash when it hit the sewer water he was stepping through.  It was a lonesome, unsettling sound that made him nervous.  The men huddled together around a fire at the far end of the alley didn¡¯t help.  Frauis¡¯ hand unconsciously went to one of the two daggers he wore at his hip.


    The door he knocked on was uncomfortably close to the men around the fire.  He was wearing his brown coat with the Courageous Order of Heavens star sigil on it.  The Children of the Order weren¡¯t liked by much of the populace, often referring to them by the derogatory moniker Star Children.


    Insults and mockery were the usual types of assaults on the Children of the Order, but some, including the Shielders, were known to attack on sight.  Others assumed the Children were wealthy and would try to rob them.  Most didn¡¯t know that those they were trying to rob had significant combat training especially for this reason.


    The slit in the door opened up and a pair of dark brown eyes peeked out.  Their owner recognizing Fraius, unbolted and open the door for him, quickly ushering him in.  He was led through what seemed like never-ending stacks of crates and barrels that formed a strange, dark, maze-like structure, until they came to a door.  If the doorman hadn¡¯t brought a torch with them, it would have been pitch black.


    ¡°He¡¯s in there,¡± the man said, pointing at the door.  He said nothing else; just walked away, taking the torch with him.  The torch slowly faded away until it disappeared completely, leaving Fraius in darkness.  He gathered his nerves, opened the door, and stepped through.


    What he saw was not what he expected.  He knew that when he set up this meeting that he was going to be meeting a recluse.  A noble that few ever saw in person anymore.  A man who was so afraid of being seen that if a servant accidentally gazed upon him he would be killed.


    The room itself was sparse.  It appeared to be a warehouse office with all the furniture pushed to the edges of the room, to make space for the massive platform in its center.  Was it a dais?  Was it a palanquin?  Was it a very low wagon?  It had elements of all three.


    It was a low platform elegantly designed and decorated out of the most expensive exotic woods.  Gold and lapis inlays decorated the base in intricate patterns that carried up onto the platform itself.  Multidirectional wheels were installed at the four corners and another pair in the middle of the long sides.  Thick wooden beams surrounded it that could function as handles and allow a dozen strong men the ability to lift it, though how far they could carry it was a subject up for debate.


    Elegant pillows were piled upon the dais, covering nearly every inch of available space.  Sitting on the pillows was the fattest man he had ever seen.  He only wore an elegant and embroidered green nightshirt that was stained with food and wine.  Giant rolls of fat spilled out of every location the nightshirt didn¡¯t cover.  There didn¡¯t seem to be a distinction between his shoulders and his head.  Thick and heavy gold chains dangled from where his neck had lost its battle with the fat.  Massive gold rings encircled his chubby fingers.  No wonder this man was a recluse.


    There was no reason to guess how he had gotten to this weight.  He was surrounded by meats, cakes, bottles of wine and other assorted treats.  His enormous belly served as a tray from which he was stuffing the food into his mouth.


    ¡°Lord Erias?¡± he asked.


    Lord Erias was the Lord of the Shores.  He held a small amount of land along the coast and was heavily involved in the shipping business.  He¡¯d made a great deal of money transporting goods around Laryndor.  He was one of the founders of the Captain¡¯s Guild, a group of sailors who had banded together to consolidate and exercise their political power.


    He had a fleet of ships that included river and sea going vessels.  Most were armed better than some kingdom¡¯s navies, including Camulan.  That was not why Fraius was here today, but his possession of such a fleet could be useful in the future.


    ¡°In the flesh, ample as it is,¡± was the reply.  Lord Erias¡¯ unkempt beard was the home to food scraps and an army of lice, judging by the way he kept scratching at it.  He picked at the food on his beard and stuffed it into his mouth, not caring enough to distinguish between old food in his beard and any that had newly landed.


    ¡°You¡¯re the representative from the Star Children?¡±


    ¡°I am, lord.  Star Child Fraius.¡±


    Erais grabbed a nearby cake.  ¡°What do you want? Why has your master arranged this secretive meeting?¡± he asked, spraying food from his mouth as he spoke.


    Fraius was disgusted by this man.  How could he have allowed himself to get so big?  What would make food more important than mobility?  If Fraius wanted to, he could, and probably should kill this travesty of a human where he stood, or lay, as it were.


    ¡°My master, Star Lord Longinous would like to know how you like your gifts?¡±


    The fat lord laughed, spraying chunks of food from his mouth.  Most landed on his massive girth, which he just picked up and continued to eat.  ¡°Your lord sent you all the way here, forced me out of my palace for this meeting just to ask how I liked some trinkets?  I doubt that.¡±


    ¡°And also, to remind you of your obligations.¡±


    ¡°My obligations?  Your lord is persistent.¡±  Erais threw a half-eaten chunk of meat at Fraius, who was able to easily dodge the poorly thrown projectile.  ¡°You tell your lord that I will fulfill my obligations on my schedule.  He needn¡¯t worry, Commodore Tyrec will be standing by¡ªhe¡¯s already on speaking terms with the royal family.  Now begone.  I want to be away from this place.¡±


    Two men armed with halberds stepped out of the darkness and ushered him through the door he¡¯d come in from.  Fraius hadn¡¯t seen them.  He would have to punish himself for that.  If this meeting had gone sour, they would have crushed his skull with those polearms.


    Who else was hiding in the shadows?  He looked around nervously, but the room was still pitch black.  Was he going to have to find his way out of here on his own?  He didn¡¯t bring a lamp or torch with him.  Why would he have needed one?


    Finally, the doorman returned with his flickering, fear-defeating torch, and escorted him out of the building.  Fraius couldn¡¯t help but look into the darkness and wonder if an assassin¡¯s arrow was going to come from one of the dark recesses and end his life.


    None came.  The doorman opened the door and shoved him out without another word.  The men around the fire were still there, staring lustfully at the purse tied to his belt.  He knew what they wanted.  They would not get it.


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    He hurried back down the alley.  He could feel the three men¡¯s eyes. He didn¡¯t want to look back and risk them knowing he knew, so he kept walking, putting his body into a state of readiness.


    He heard the footsteps before he saw the knife.  He dodged to his left, spun, and drew his daggers in one smooth motion.  The alley tough¡¯s knife was still in motion.  The daggers in Frauis¡¯ quick hands pierced the tough¡¯s torso six times before the man¡¯s arm completed its motion.  The would-be assassin stumbled forward, dropped his knife and fell face-first into the sewage.


    The other two men came to a quick stop, turned, and ran the other direction.  Fraius thought to pursue them for a moment, then thought better of it.  They may have reinforcements waiting around the corner.  He stepped over the body and continued out of the alley.


    He needn¡¯t worry about the city guard finding him.  They barely patrolled this section of town in the daytime, and were almost nonexistent at night, unless something major occurred on the docks.  The owners of pubs and warehouses employed private guards to protect their interests.  Hire-hands were much more willing to use deadly force than the city guards, and it kept most of the dock dwellers in line, unless someone was caught somewhere alone like he was.


    *


    The road to Teorton was longer than Alaric remembered, and hotter.  In his youth, he could make the journey in less than a week, given a series of strong horses he could change to on the way.  It was different now.  He was old and tired.  Being the general of Fort Camulan meant that he had to travel with guards; a commodity his fort could scarcely afford to lose, but he had been recalled by Lord-General Harmin, so he had to go.


    When someone of his rank traveled, it wasn¡¯t just the guards he brought with him.  He also had to equip and feed them.  Many of them were married and were rotating to other assignments, so they brought their families.  In a carriage behind him, was his wife, along with their servant, and other members of the household retinue.


    Traveling with so many people was slow, and slow irritated him, even if he was old now and probably couldn¡¯t keep up the pace he wanted.  His joints ached, and the saddle wasn¡¯t as comfortable as he would have liked.


    At his age, here was only one reason to recall the commander of Fort Camulan: he was being decommissioned.  He was well past the age when most generals retired.  He saw no reason to.  Even if his body had broken down, his mind was still sharp.  It wasn¡¯t like he ever went out into the field anymore.  Why would he?  That was a risk to his command and the stability of the fort.  If he were killed in action, the whole command structure would be in disarray.


    He was sure that the Fenn¡¯s spies would recognize that he had left and may take this opportunity to attack.  He¡¯d left Field Commander Boede in charge during his absence.  Boede was a competent tactician and commander, though he fell a bit short on the politics and charisma a general needed.    He normally was Alaric¡¯s representative in the field when the general couldn¡¯t be there himself, so it was natural for him to assume temporary command of the fort in his absence.


    He wondered what he would do in his retirement.  He was old for a soldier, but he still had many years of life ahead of him.  He might go back to his ancestral home, where his older brother was earl, if his older brother would still have him.  They¡¯d had a falling out many years ago and hadn¡¯t spoken since.


    He didn¡¯t want to retire.  Commanding Fort Camulan was his purpose.  He didn¡¯t care about politics; he didn¡¯t care to be appointed to a more prestigious position.  He wanted to command his men.  They looked up to him.  They cared for him, and he cared for them.


    But, he supposed, all things must come to an end, including his command.  He¡¯d just hoped his end would come on the battlefield, and not in bed.  He was a soldier; his sword should be in his hand when he died.  He should be surrounded by his fellow soldiers and the corpses of his enemies, not on a soft bed surrounded by servants and loneliness.


    He sighed.  If that was his fate, then that was his fate.  He would face it with the same courage he had faced death with on the battlefield.  He was, after all, a soldier.


    *


    Fraius had spent the night in an inn on the border of the docks instead of making his way to his home, Star Base Teorton.  Things around the area were getting too dangerous.  He¡¯d spotted several dozen toughs eyeing him as he walked.  Fortunately, he had no encounters with them.  He¡¯d just made his way to a place called Halfway Inn and got a room.  Star Lord Longinus would not like it, but he had to think about his safety.


    Star Base Teorton was the local temple for the Courageous Order of the Heavens.  It wasn¡¯t as big as the one in Kaenshire, but it was more important, being so close to the seat of power in Camulan.  Their main temple, the Fortress of Heaven, was in Branson¡¯s Fork, far to the east of Teorton.


    Lord Longinus had made the long trek to Teorton just for this mission.  The Fortress of Heaven was his normal home and the seat of power for their entire religion.  The lord didn¡¯t like to be kept waiting, but it would do their mission no purpose if Fraius had been killed.


    A man thumped on the door to his room.  ¡°There¡¯s a carriage for you here, sir.¡±


    A carriage?  No one knew he was here.  How could a carriage have come for him?  ¡°I didn¡¯t order a carriage,¡± he said.


    ¡°Nevertheless, sir.  The carriage is here for you.  I suggest you take it.¡±


    Was there a threat in his comment?  It sure sounded like one.  If it came down to a fight, he could certainly handle himself, unless of course, there was magic involved.  That was a possibility, one that he had to be ready for.


    Still, there was a hint of urging in his tone.  Maybe it wasn¡¯t a threat after all and the man was just concerned for Fraius¡¯ welfare.  He decided to risk it.  He gathered up his things and headed downstairs.


    The carriage was waiting for him on the cobblestone street.  It was a non-descript black carriage with two wheels; matching shades covered the windows.  A man dressed in fine wool sat atop the coach box holding the reins.


    ¡°Get in,¡± he said gruffly.  Fraius had expected him to climb down and open the door for him, but he didn¡¯t budge.  Fraius had to open the door himself and climb in.  He nearly slipped on the step but caught himself at the last second.


    Another passenger was already inside, dressed in a fine silk robe with the Courageous Order of Heavens star sigil prominently emblazoned on the chest.  A tall hat that mimicked the sigil sat nearby.  It was Star Lord Longinus.  He had come personally to get him.  That did not bode well.


    ¡°Your Radiance!¡± he exclaimed and made an attempt to bow as best he could and kissed the Star Ring on his middle finger when the lord¡¯s hand was extended.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± Longinus said.  Fraius shut the door and obeyed.  The star lord knocked on the side of the carriage and it lurched into motion.


    ¡°How did you know where I was, lord?¡±


    In response, Longinus just looked at him for a moment and then looked ahead.  Was it magic or spies?  It could have been either.  The star lord had both in great quantities.


    ¡°Your mission was a failure,¡± he said.  ¡°We cannot allow a noble to treat you so dismissively.  Erias will fulfil his obligation, or he will be punished.  Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Radiance.¡± Fraius answered.  How had he known what Lord Erias had said?  If Longinus knew, why had he bothered to send Fraius in the first place?


    ¡°These nobles are not giving us the proper respect.    We need to teach them a lesson.  We need to remind them that they and their family are not as safe as they think they are.¡±


    He was right.  None of the nobles he had visited had treated him with the fear and respect that he deserved.  At times they were dismissive as Lord Erias had been.  At other times they were downright hostile.  Sometimes they physically assaulted him.  Fraius had wished to defend himself, but if he had, they would have petitioned the king, and everything they had been working for would be undone.  So Fraius had to take his beatings.


    ¡°What did you have in mind, lord?¡±


    ¡°Someone needs to die,¡± Longinus said.  ¡°Someone who the nobility thinks are untouchable.¡±


    An excellent idea.  There was nothing like an assassination to scare people into compliance.  He had done it many times.


    ¡°Who, Your Radiance?¡±


    Perhaps Erias¡¯ son, or maybe is daughter?  Which one did he dote on more?  It would be the daughter.  Longinus wanted to send a message, but to kill the heir would be going too far.  That could have unpredictable results, especially considering that Lord Erias had no other sons to pass his title down to and was too sexist to consider passing it down to his daughter, even though there were no laws against women holding royal titles.


    ¡°I will be returning to the Fortress soon, so I don¡¯t wish you to dally, but be discreet about it.  We don¡¯t want anyone to be able to tie this directly back to us.  We just want a hint that we may have been responsible.  Of course, if asked I will deny it, but I will include enough subtext to hint that this is something we have the power to do.¡±


    ¡°Who, lord?  Who do you want me to kill?¡±


    Star Lord Longinus looked at Fraius and cracked a smile.  His crooked and stained teeth gave his face a sinister look.  It unsettled Fraius because he knew the horrors his lord was capable of.  He held the gaze for an eternity.


    Then he spoke, ¡°I want you to kill the king¡¯s youngest son, Prince Aeolwyn.¡±

 4: A Meeting of Lords

    Alfyn paced around the room anxiously.  King Llarwyn didn¡¯t like it.  Alfyn¡¯s nerves made him nervous.  The king didn¡¯t know why his son was so anxious, it wasn¡¯t like he hadn¡¯t met an assassin before.


    That was, after all, what the woman who General Harmin had brought before them was.  She wasn¡¯t exactly what Llarwyn had expected: short, raven-haired, and as thin as a post.  If he were judging her based on her appearance, she was not someone to be feared.


    ¡°Lord King, may I present Lady Reiva,¡± Harmin said, gesturing to the smaller woman.


    She was dressed in a black tunic and black trousers.  Unusual for a woman.  Tied around her neck was a black silk scarf.  She made a graceful curtsey and bowed her head.


    ¡°I am honored to be in your presence, Your Grace,¡± she said in a high, lilting voice.


    Llarwyn just nodded.  Her face was darker skinned than most.  Not completely black, but definitely not as pale as most of his subjects.  She was clearly not from Camulan.


    She wore no weapons that he could see, not that he expected her to.  Wearing weapons was forbidden in his presence as a safety measure.  He doubted she was unarmed.  A proper assassin would still have a half-dozen weapons hidden about their person.  He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the black gloves she wore had some hidden weapon in them.  Perhaps poisoned fingernail blades hidden behind the fingertips.


    ¡°Where are you from, lady?¡±


    Dark skin was uncommon in Camulan, though not unheard of. In Tambryne it was a sign of nobility, even royalty. The Archduke of Tambryne had the darkest skin he¡¯d ever seen. She wasn¡¯t nearly as dark as that, but close.


    ¡°I was born on Gavinholm Isle, sire,¡± she said, ¡°but I grew up in Cape Bryne.¡±


    He frowned.  Gavinholm Isle?  That belonged to the Fenns, who were their enemies.  Could he trust her?


    ¡°Are you Fennish then, or Tambrynese?¡±  Cape Bryne was as far south as it got in Laryndor.  The Lords of Bryne were powerful nobles in Tambryne.  They had a keep on the cape bluff where they monitored all the shipping that passed through Larin Strait.  The Duke of Tambryne claimed it was to ensure the safety of commerce, but Lord Erias frequently complained to Llarwyn that his ships were raided just after they passed through the strait.


    ¡°Tambrynese, Your Grace.  I left Gavinholm as a young child after my parents were murdered.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± he replied, not sure if he believed her.  If she were a spy for King Drahius of the Fenns, she wouldn¡¯t admit her loyalty to him.


    She shifted nervously on her feet.  That was good.  Llarwyn wanted to make her uncomfortable.  If she was uncomfortable, then she couldn¡¯t control the conversation.  He wanted to see what she was made of.


    ¡°Lord-General Harmin wants me to consider you for the post of Royal Inquisitor.  Why would I trust a Fenn who grew up in Tambryne with a critical posting?  It seems to me that your loyalties have been all mixed up.¡±


    ¡°Sire-,¡± Lord Harmin started.  Llarwyn hushed him with a finger.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± she started, ¡°I left Cape Bryne for Camulan as soon as I was of age.  I was not popular in my community and couldn¡¯t wait to leave.  I have been in Camulan for over a decade.¡±


    ¡°Most of that in my service, Your Grace,¡± Harmin added.


    He rounded on Harmin.  ¡°One more word from you and by Agyassa I¡¯ll have your head!  I am not here to hear you sing her praises.  I will judge her for myself.¡±


    Harmin bowed his head but said nothing.  Llarwyn wouldn¡¯t actually execute the lord-general.  He was much too valuable.  But sometimes he needed to be reminded who was in charge.


    ¡°Your Grace, I will swear an oath of fealty in front of Archstar Boress.  I am loyal to my oaths.¡±


    Archstar Boress was the high priest of the Temple of Laryn, the dominant religion on Laryndor, and the source of the name of the island.  Laryn was the king of the gods and by his blessing, the source of all magic.  He divided his mana, or magical energy between his four children, each of whom focus on a specific type of magic: Agyassa was the demigod of war magic, Samahdin the demigod of enlightenment magic, Jakitradus the demigod of balance magic, and Utashu, the demigoddess of life magic.


    The question was, would her oath before the Archstar be worth anything?  Even in his presence it wasn¡¯t magically binding.  The only punishment she would receive would be in the afterlife.  In truth, he couldn¡¯t just trust her.  She would have to earn it before he would appoint her to such an important post.


    ¡°Let me think on it, Lady Revia.  I am not ready to trust you.  You may go.¡±


    ¡°Your Grace, please!¡± Harmin pleaded, hands clasped in front of him.  He nearly stepped in front of Llarwyn.  Llarwyn fixed him with a stare but said nothing.


    Revia just curtseyed gracefully and backed out of the room, taking special care not to turn her back on him.  That struck him as odd.  He thought it was very respectful, but not something that any of his nobles did.  He knew it was courtesy in Tambryne not to turn your back on the archduke. He liked it. Maybe he would implement it too.


    ¡°Now come, we have a meeting to get to.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Grace,¡± Harmin said sheepishly.


    They walked through the elaborately decorated halls, down a flight of stairs, and through the garden.  Servants who were scurrying about all stopped what they were doing, moved to the walls and bowed as he walked by.  The king scarcely noticed them.


    The chamber the privy council met in, a room most called the Lord¡¯s Hall, was just off the west gardens.  It was close to a bluff with large windows that overlooked the entire city.  His council members frequently tried to get him to move the meetings elsewhere because of the distractions the view offered, but he refused to be in a closed room with so many powerful men with their own agendas.  He needed an escape route, just in case; he also allowed a rumor to be spread that he¡¯d had a previous council member who displeased him thrown from the bluff. It served to keep the council in line when it suited him.


    Lord-General Harmin had rushed ahead of them so he would already be present when the king arrived.  It was considered poor form to arrive with the king.  Llarwyn was glad that he didn¡¯t have to remind the lord-general of that.


    He did have to remind his son to hurry ahead with a swift kick in the pants.  Once he was reminded, the crown prince ran ahead of him and took his seat at the table.


    Besides the lord-general and his son, Archstar Boress was present, along with his royal mage, Jor Bashi, who not only held the post of King¡¯s Mage, but was also the Royal Steward of the Chancellery.  Shield Lord Barin was present, as required by the Shielders, though Llarwyn didn¡¯t particularly like an outsider being on his privy council.


    Lord Smyton, his chief steward, was standing by the door.  He banged his large staff on the ground twice as the king entered and shouted, ¡°The King!¡±


    The assembled men stood from their chairs and bowed their heads, keeping them bowed until Llarwyn reached the head of the table.  He gathered his robe as he walked around the large golden chair and sat down.  When he was seated, the others followed.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Llarwyn started by staring at each of his council members in turn.  He liked to start the sessions this way.  He felt it gave him a subtle insight into their state of mind, and whether they planned on hiding anything from him during the course of the meeting.  None spoke.  They were used to the procedure and just waited expectantly for him to start the meeting.


    Archstar Boress stood.  ¡°With your permission, Lord King?¡± he asked.


    The king nodded.  The Archstar held his hands out in a symbolic embrace of the assembled group.  At his insistence, they always began the council meetings with a prayer to Laryn and Samahdin.


    ¡°Great and magnificent gods,¡± he began, ¡°we thank thee for Your Grace and gift of life and magic to us all.  Laryn please watch over us and guide us in our day to day lives so that we may glorify you with our actions and elevate those around us.  Samahdin, grant these men, these rulers wisdom to make laws and guide them to bring those under their rule to the faith.  Of this we beseech these.  Vani¡¯sva¡±


    ¡°Vani¡¯sva,¡± the group echoed.  As far as Llarwyn knew, the world Vani¡¯sva had no meaning, except as an appeal to the gods and to indicate a closure to a prayer.


    ¡°Thank you, Archstar Boress.  Let us begin.  Lord-General Harmin, what news do you have?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lord King,¡± he began.  He still appeared a bit uncomfortable after his dressing down in the drawing room but gathered his composure.  ¡°My reports indicate increasing activity along the borders with the Fenns.  I have recalled General Alaric to discuss their intelligence and strategies on how to best combat the threat.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve recalled the commander of Fort Camulan when there¡¯s a threat of attack by the Fenns?  Why would you do such a thing?¡± Llarwyn asked. Why would he bring the general when a messenger would have sufficed?


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Shield Lord Barin interrupted, ¡°Commander Boede is a capable commander.  I would think the fort is in safe hands under his command.¡±


    Coming from a Guardian of the Shield, that was high praise.  As a paramilitary group, they had a strong force and strong tactics, and didn¡¯t think very highly of other military groups.  They were also quite arrogant about their martial superiority, so for one of their senior members to call one of his commanders ¡°capable¡± was akin to calling them one of the greatest generals in Laryndor.


    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± the lord-general said.


    ¡°Are your plans to retire Alaric?¡± Jor Bashi asked.


    A question Llarwyn also had.  General Alaric was a good general, but he had been getting on in years, and in the king¡¯s opinion, was ready for retirement.  He had been in charge of Fort Camulan since before Llarwyn ascended the throne.  His father, King Elowyn had been the one to give Alaric command of Fort Camulan.


    ¡°Not yet.  He¡¯s extremely popular among his men at the fort, and him staying at his post will inspire them to continue to fight.  Commander Boede, while capable, doesn¡¯t inspire that kind of loyalty among the men.  He¡¯s old, to be sure, but he is still useful to us.¡±


    Harmin shot an almost imperceptible look at the king, suggesting that his usefulness went beyond his ability to command the fort.  The glance was telling the king that he was speaking in his capacity as the Royal Inquisitor and not as the lord-general.


    ¡°You do realize that he probably expects to be put out to pasture?¡± Alfyn said from the other side of the table.  His son usually didn¡¯t have anything useful to add to these meetings, and so tried to interject as much as possible.  It annoyed the councilors, who believed he didn¡¯t belong on the privy council, but Llarwyn wanted him here.  One day he would be the one leading these meetings and should know what to expect.


    ¡°Indeed, I do,¡± Harmin responded.  ¡°In fact, I want him to believe it. Then, when I send him back he will thank me for it, and believe that he owes me a favor.¡±


    ¡°A ruse?¡± Shield Lord Barin asked.  ¡°Why?¡±


    Harmin said nothing.  He didn¡¯t want the others to know that he had other plans for the old general.  They knew he held the post of Royal Inqusitor, but besides being in charge of the judicial system, most didn¡¯t know what other duties the post entailed.


    ¡°A joke!¡± Alfyn said.  ¡°Father, let¡¯s feast him and keep the prank up for as long as possible before letting him in on it.¡±


    Alfyn picked up on the same hint that Llarwyn did.  Internally, he was beaming with pride.  There was hope for the boy yet.


    ¡°An excellent idea, Alfyn.  We shall do so.  Anything else, Lord Harmin?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Grace.¡±


    Llarwyn turned to Shield Lord Barin.  He couldn¡¯t help but feel a distaste in his mouth.  He didn¡¯t like the Shielders.  They meddled too much and were always asking for more gold to pay for the Shield¡¯s upkeep, yet kept the explanation of how it functioned a mystery.


    ¡°Shield Lord Barin, how is the Shield?¡±


    Barin nodded.  ¡°Thank you, Lord King.  The Shield is fully functional, but as you know, is always in a precarious state, and if it is not properly maintained, it could fail, with potentially catastrophic results.¡±


    ¡°Are you here to ask for more money?¡± Jor Bashi asked.  In addition to being Llarwyn¡¯s Royal Mage, he was also Royal Steward of the Chancellery, and in charge of all things related to the kingdom¡¯s finances.  Astute as ever, he recognized that the Shielders are always asking for more money.


    ¡°No, Lord Bashi.¡±


    ¡°Jor Bashi,¡± the mage corrected.  ¡°Jor is my title, sir.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Jor,¡± Lord Barin said.  He well knew that the mage was no lord.  His choice to call him Lord Bashi was a subtle hint that he was irritated at Bashi getting straight to the point of the Shield Lord¡¯s report.


    Lord Barin continued, ¡°While it is important to our work that we are well funded, we do not need any additional tributes at the moment.  I was just reminding his grace that the potential for Shield failure is ever preset, and the threat to all of us is real.¡±


    ¡°What, pray tell, Lord Barin, would be the result of a Shield failure?¡± Alfyn asked.


    ¡°That all depends, your highness.  A slight failure could be compensated for, with minimal losses.  With a total failure?  All life on this island would be destroyed.¡±


    ¡°All life?¡± Alfyn asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.  He¡¯d had little interaction with the Shielders, so hadn¡¯t heard the doom and gloom that was always coming out of their mouths.  If one were to listen to them, you would think they were a doomsday cult, which, Llarwyn supposed, they were.


    ¡°All life,¡± Lord Barin repeated.  ¡°The humans, the elves, the dwarves, the animals, the plants, everything.  Laryndor would become a barren wasteland, devoid of life, and everything that supports it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve all heard this before, Lord Barin,¡± Llarwyn said, cutting off the line of discussion.  ¡°If you don¡¯t have anything else to report, we will move on.¡±


    ¡°I have nothing else, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°Very well.  Jor Bashi?  Have you any news?¡±


    The king¡¯s mage nodded and smoothed out his blue silk robes.  ¡°Our finances are stable, Lord King.  Nothing new to report on.  However-,¡± he stopped.


    ¡°What is it?¡±  The king didn¡¯t like it when Bashi acted like this.  Sometimes if he didn¡¯t want to say something, he would start and then stop.  It was almost always bad news.  The king wondered if he was afraid that he would hang the mage if he gave him bad news.  That was a habit his father indulged in from time to time, but he had put a stop to the practice.


    ¡°Sire, I discovered that one of my accountants was on the Star Children¡¯s payroll.¡±


    There was a collective groan from the group.  The Star Children were always sneaking into places and trying to gain leverage over their betters.  Usually, they never got higher than the servants.  The fact that they were trying to infiltrate the king¡¯s servants for intelligence was troubling.


    ¡°I see.  What have you done with the man?¡±


    ¡°I have remanded him to custody, amid the protests of the Star Children.  I expect that you will want him put to the question?¡±


    Putting someone to the question was a polite euphemism for torture.  Llarwyn didn¡¯t like to admit that it was something done in his kingdom, but he acknowledged its usefulness.  As long as he didn¡¯t do it, and any such behavior couldn¡¯t be traced back to him.


    The king shook his head.  He was stunned that the Star Children could be so brazen.  Either that or this particular man was just sloppy.  He acted under the assumption that there were spies in his staff, and it was Lord-General Harmin¡¯s responsibility to root them out.  He couldn¡¯t be pleased that Jor Bashi found this man before he did.


    ¡°The Star Children are getting bold,¡± the king said.  ¡°They will need to be reminded of their place.  Proceed with the questioning.  Leave him alive, but give him the Traitor¡¯s Kiss.¡°


    ¡°I understand,¡± Jor Bashi said.  The Traitor¡¯s Kiss was a punishment meant to prevent someone from continuing to spy.  After their interrogation was complete, they would have their ears put out, their eyes crushed, and their tongue cut out.  The recipient of this punishment wouldn¡¯t be able to see, hear, or tell.  In addition to their tongue cut out, occasionally they would also have their fingers removed so they couldn¡¯t write.  Sometimes one or two of these punishments was enough, sometimes they would receive all of them.  He would leave it up to Bashi¡¯s discretion.


    ¡°Will that be enough, Sire?¡± Harmin asked.  ¡°The Star Children have been increasing activity recently, and I don¡¯t know if this will encourage them to back down or spark a revolt against us.¡±


    ¡°We could handle them for you,¡± Shield Lord Barin said.  ¡°For a price.¡±


    That the Shielders and Star Children hated each other was well known, so it wasn¡¯t a surprise that Barin would offer to deal with them.  It was a tempting offer, one that Llarwyn wanted to accept, but the Shielders weren¡¯t known for their discretion in military matters, and it wouldn¡¯t take long for it to leak out that Llarwyn hired them to deal with his problem.


    But on the other hand, it was a good offer to have in his pocket.  One that he may need to accept in the future.  But not now.  He needed to know all the implications hiring them would have.  Hiring them would go beyond a monetary cost.  They would find ways to make sure he was beholden to them in other ways.  He would have to discuss that with Harmin and Jor Bashi.


    ¡°Thank you for the offer, Lord Barin, but that won¡¯t be necessary.  I think we will be able to take care of our own house, without the Shielder¡¯s involvement.  If there is nothing else, I think we can adjourn.¡±


    No one dared say anything.  The subtext in the king¡¯s statement was that they were done whether they had more to say or not.


    They all rose when the king stood up and waited while he and Alfyn left the room.

 5: Aeolwyns Adventure

    Aeolwyn was back in the gardens, in front of Sir Jom¡¯s strategy table.  He wasn¡¯t studying strategy this time.  He was just playing war with the soldiers.  Opposing his army were the Fenns, fresh off an assault on Fort Camulan.  After defeating the assault, his army had chased them into the woods across the River Tyr, and the Fenns weren¡¯t in a good position.


    He had the Fenns surrounded and had sent a messenger to their general offering terms for surrender.  The general sent the messenger¡¯s head back as a reply, so Aeolwyn¡¯s little army had no choice but to attack.  They were in the process of wiping out their opponents.  The Fenn¡¯s morale was low, and they were close to a route.


    ¡°Whatcha doing, Aeolwyn?¡±


    Aeolwyn nearly jumped out of his own skin.  He stumbled back away from the strategy board, dagger in hand before he recognized that it was his brother Alfyn, the crown prince who had snuck up on him.  Embarrassed, he put his dagger away.


    Alfyn raised his hands up in a mocking gesture.  ¡°Whoa, easy there, brother!  I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Aeolwyn said, his head down and cheeks burning.  ¡°You scared me.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Sir Jom?  Isn¡¯t he teaching you tactics today?¡±


    ¡°No, Aeolwyn replied, ¡°I¡¯m just playing.¡±  He was embarrassed to admit that.  He was 12 years old, after all.  Almost  grown, and his older brother caught him playing.


    Alfyn studied the board.  He brushed his hand over Aeolwyn¡¯s pieces and then touched the general of the opposing army.  ¡°Hmm.  It looks like things are going badly for the white team.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re the Fenns.  I offered them a surrender, and they sent the messenger¡¯s head back in a box.¡±


    Alfyn took his hand and wiped away the whole battle, knocking down all the pieces and scattering them all over the table.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Aeolwyn said.  He¡¯d spent all morning and most of the afternoon on that battle, and his brother just ruined it.  He felt tears trying to force their way out of his eyes, but he fought them down as best as he could.  He would not cry in front of his brother, no matter what he did.


    ¡°Pretend adventures are for babies,¡± the crown prince said.  ¡°Real men go on real adventures.¡±


    Aeolwyn folded his arms across his chest.  He wasn¡¯t a baby; he was almost an adult!  ¡°When have you been on an adventure?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been on adventures!¡± Alfyn protested.  ¡°A lot of them.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?  When?¡± Aeolwyn hadn¡¯t seen Alfyn ever sneak out of the palace to go on any sort of adventures.  If he had, the servants would have said something when Aeolwyn snuck down to the kitchen for a treat.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you,¡± Alfyn replied.  ¡°It¡¯s a secret.¡±


    Aeolwyn didn¡¯t need a Detect Lie spell to know that meant Alfyn had never been on any adventures like he was claiming.  He wasn¡¯t going to point that out, though.  Alfyn was bigger, older, and stronger than him.  If he were to accuse Alfyn of lying to him, he was liable to be on the wrong side of Alfyn¡¯s rage.


    ¡°Have you been on an adventure, Aeolwyn?  A real adventure?¡±


    Aeolwyn wanted to say yes.  He wanted to tell Alfyn all the amazing adventures he¡¯d had with all sorts of people.  He wanted to tell him how he rescued a maiden whose father was a Shielder, and how they took him into their stronghold and showed them all of their secrets.


    He wanted to tell him how he commanded armies against the Fenns and the elves and how he defeated them even though they had him flanked.  He wanted to tell them how the Fenns offered him the Lake Crown and he took it.


    But those were all pretend adventures, and he would know it.  He¡¯d never even been outside of the palace alone like Ulfnar had.  He hadn¡¯t ever been in a real fight like Wolfryn and Alfyn had.  He hadn¡¯t done anything fun.


    ¡°No,¡± he answered.


    Alfyn stared at Aeolwyn with a combination of condescension and pity.  He smirked and then looked back to the table, idly fingering the soldiers on the board.  He moved Aeolwyn¡¯s general around the board a bit and then stopped.


    ¡°Do you want to?¡± he asked suddenly.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I mean, it would be a secret, of course.  You couldn¡¯t tell anyone.  If anyone found out, it would be bad for father.  Really bad.  But it¡¯s something he wants done.  Can you keep a secret?¡±


    Aeolwyn put his hands on his hips.  ¡°Of course I can keep a secret!¡±


    Alfyn leaned forward.  ¡°You¡¯re sure?  If you get caught, you can¡¯t say anything.  You can¡¯t even say whose idea this was.  If you do, they¡¯ll kill all of us.¡±


    What kind of adventure was this?  Did he really want to go on it if his life was on the line?  Yes, he did.  He didn¡¯t want to look like a coward and weak in front of his brother.  If he did, how could his brother trust him in battle when Alfyn was king, and he was a general?


    He raised his right hand and put his left hand across his chest.  ¡°I won¡¯t tell, I swear.¡±


    Alfyn looked shocked and took a few steps back.  ¡°Are you sure you want to do the Laryn Oath?  That condemns your soul if you break that oath!¡±


    That was true.  The Laryn Oath was a thing that nobles and kings had to do when in a ceremony when the king was crowned.  The king took the oath to promise that he would be a good and faithful ruler, and the nobles pledged their loyalty to him.  It was an oath before the ruler of all the gods and the source of magic.  Jor Bashi said that tragedy befell anyone who would break such an oath.


    He took it because he needed Alfyn to believe that he wouldn¡¯t tell anyone.  Otherwise, the crown prince wouldn¡¯t let him go, something he really wanted.  He especially wanted to prove to his brother that not only wasn¡¯t he a coward, but he could be trusted.


    ¡°Okay then,¡± Alfyn said.  ¡°We¡¯re meeting at the Forlyn Fountain in the Upper Quarter at midnight.  See you there.¡±


    With that, Alfyn strode out of the garden.  The fountain at midnight?  He would have to sneak out.  How?  He had never done it before; he didn¡¯t know the slightest thing about how to sneak out of the palace


    ¡°Wait!  What are we doing?¡± Aeolwyn shouted after him to no avail.  Alfyn was gone. He chased after his brother but could find no sign of him.  It was like he had disappeared completely.  What Aeolwyn would do with such a skill!  No army¡¯s general would be safe from him then.


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    The sun was going down in the garden, and thankfully, there wasn¡¯t going to be a family dinner tonight.  Last night¡¯s was enough for him.  He loved his family to the ends of the earth, but they were a lot to take all at once.


    He hurried off to the kitchens to grab a snack and started thinking on what the best way would be to get out of the palace without being seen.  He knew there had to be a way, since Ulfnar seemed to do it all the time.


    Of course, he couldn¡¯t just come out and ask him, that would be courting disaster.  His brother liked to share precious knowledge if he thought it would get him leverage.  The fact that he would get Aeolwyn in trouble was inconsequential.  He probably wouldn¡¯t even notice.


    So, he had to puzzle it out on his own.  The servants ran around unseen all the time, why couldn¡¯t he?  Well, he didn¡¯t have his own network of secret tunnels like they did.  Or did he?  What if he were to use their network of secret tunnels to get out of the palace?  They had their own tunnels, their own exits and everything.  All he would have to do is dress up like one of them and no one would be any wiser.


    Where would he get a servant¡¯s clothes though?  He realized that would be the easy part and changed his direction towards the outer yard.  That was where the laundry was done; all he would have to do was swipe one of the servant¡¯s uniforms off the line and sneak off with it.


    It was dark by the time he reached the laundry.  He had hurried, but didn¡¯t want to look like he was hurrying anywhere in particular, otherwise someone might have noticed, and if he was noticed, he might get in trouble.  He had no reason to be at the servant¡¯s laundry.


    The crude wattle-and-daub building that housed the laundry was dark; the fires inside had been put out, and the laundresses had gone home for the evening.  Since it was a hot summer day though, they left a few of the wool coats with his father¡¯s livery embroidered on them on a line that had been strung between the laundry and a post.


    He grabbed what he judged to be the smallest one and ran into the laundry with it.  He didn¡¯t want to be seen trying it on.  It was tight at the waist and loose in the chest; it had been made for a woman.  Some of the female servants in the household wore dresses, but others wore the same doublets as the men, only paired with skirts instead of trousers.  It would do.


    On his way out he grabbed a skirt too.  He was still too little to not stick out as a male servant, since they were all much taller than him, but he might be able to disguise himself as a woman.  It would be a bit embarrassing if he were caught, but it was a small price to pay to get to go on an adventure with his brother.


    Someone delivered his dinner while he was gone.  By the time he got back from sneaking around the laundry, it was cold.  That was alright.  He didn¡¯t mind cold food.  As a general, he wouldn¡¯t be guaranteed a hot meal anyway, so he had better get used to it.  He gupled it down as fast as he could and climbed into bed.  If he was going to be out late, he would have to get a little bit of rest where he could.


    He took the magical clock from beside his bed and set it for an hour before midnight.  It was a gift from his father for his birthday.  His father said a general needed to be able to wake whenever he chose and couldn¡¯t trust his servants to wake him.  It was a useful present.


    He drifted off the second his head hit the pillow.  When the alarm sounded its magical tones, Aeolwyn thought he was in another world.  He couldn¡¯t understand why it had gone off but it was still so dark outside.  Did Sir Jom have him doing an early morning training?


    As he slowly came back to life, he remembered why his alarm went off so early.  He leapt out of bed and put the servant¡¯s coat and dress on over his clothes.  He hadn¡¯t bothered to undress before he climbed into bed.  He had to get moving.  He grabbed his empty tray with the remainder of his food scraps and went to the door.


    He cautiously opened his door and listened.  He could hear faint footsteps echoing through the hallway moving away from him.  Either a guard or a servant retreating from their rounds.  He poked his head out and saw no one in the dim light.  Carefully, he crossed the hall, trying to make as little noise as possible.  He debated going back to his room to retrieve his slippers but decided against it.  Once he was out of the palace, he would need his boots.


    He found an entrance to the servant¡¯s corridors, unlatched it and disappeared inside, and not a moment too early.  Just as he opened the door, he could hear footsteps and voices heading his way.  From the sound of the noisy equipment and deep voices, he suspected they were guards on patrol.  If they had found him in women¡¯s servant clothes, there would be a lot of questions to answer, particularly to his father.


    He didn¡¯t have time to check and see if anyone was in the servant¡¯s corridor when he entered, because the guards were coming.  A tall thin servant with a thin moustache walked by just as he closed the door.  He didn¡¯t give Aeolwyn a second glance.  He figured servants were as practiced at ignoring each other as the rest of the household was at ignoring them.


    He tried to copy the way he had seen the servants carrying the tray, with a single hand underneath, fingers splayed out to balance the load it carried.  He figured he would garner less attention if he had a prop with him.


    He was right.  None of the servants he encountered seemed to even notice he was there.  On the two occasions he saw a steward, essentially a servant who was in charge of other servants, he dodged into a side corridor before they saw him and waited until they passed before continuing on.  They would definitely recognize him.  A woman with short hair?  That was something that would stand out among the stewards, though it wasn¡¯t unheard of.  Some of the women who worked in certain places where hair would be a danger to their job would keep it short, but most of them would have gone home by now.


    He was glad he didn¡¯t see the chamberlain.  Lord Smyton was the man his father appointed to lead his household staff.  He wasn¡¯t a rich or powerful lord, but he was noble, and would have definitely recognized Aeolwyn, disguise or not.


    He finally made it to the end of an outside corridor.  It took him much longer than he had planned.  He didn¡¯t know the layouts of the corridors as well as he thought, and he¡¯d gotten lost a few times.  He didn¡¯t dare ask anyone for directions, so he just wandered around until he found something that looked familiar.  He worried how he was going to find his way back without getting caught.  He wasn¡¯t sure if he could retrace his steps inside the servant corridors all the way back to his room.


    He knew there was a guard on the other side of the outside door, and another across the yard where another door led to the city streets, and then two more guards on the outside of that door.  He wasn¡¯t sure how he was going to get past all those guards without being noticed.  He¡¯d already discarded the tray, as they would have thought he was trying to steal it if he¡¯d walked out with it.


    Maybe he could just chance it?  Guards were probably more worried about someone nefarious getting in than they were about someone getting out.  If he hurried and walked with purpose, they might just let him go through.


    Just as he was about to risk it, a small group of servants appeared from around the corner.  They were stumbling as they made their way down the hall.  Obviously drunk on some of his father¡¯s expensive wine.  The king was always complaining about how fast the wine seemed to disappear.  When he ordered Lord Smyton to investigate it, he had come up empty.  Now that he saw these men, it didn¡¯t take long for Aeolwyn to figure it out.  Smyton had lied to his father in order to keep the staff happy.  That was reasonable, and Aeolwyn wouldn¡¯t betray that.


    One of the men grabbed Aeolwyn and put his arm around the boy.  He absolutely reeked.  Of alcohol, old meat, and body odor.  The man was disgusting, and he needed a shower.  But this was just the opportunity Aeolwyn needed, so he went along with it.


    ¡°Come along, lass,¡± the man said.  ¡°Let¡¯s go to the pub and have a good time together.¡±


    The men were a perfect disguise for Aeolwyn.  The guards didn¡¯t even notice him among them.  They just shoved them along.  It looked as though they could care less about drunk servants.  Aeolwyn stored that bit of information into his memory.  It could be useful later.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let the boss catch you drunk on his wine!¡± one called out as they stumbled onto the cobblestone street.


    Once they were around a corner and out of eyeshot of the guards, Aeolwyn tried to pull away from the drunk servant.  He was strong and held the boy tight.  He felt panic start to set in but fought it down; now was not the time for it.


    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± the servant mumbled and pulled Aeolwyn along with him.  This could be trouble if Aeolwyn didn¡¯t think fast.  Thinking fast was one of the best traits a general could have.  It was why Sir Jom gave him memory tests and puzzles to solve during their training.


    Aeolwyn thought fast enough.  He stuck one of his legs between the servant¡¯s and they both went down hard to the earth.  The drunk released the boy in an attempt to break his fall with his hands, but it did little.  There was a crunching sound as the man went down and Aeolwyn landed on top of him.  And then a scream a moment later when the servant¡¯s brain caught up to what had happened.


    Aeolwyn quickly disentangled himself from the man and sprinted away.  He wished he could have stayed and given the man a witty remark, but there wasn¡¯t any time for that.  He was already late.


    He shed the coat and skirt and stashed them in a bush near the palace and ran off to the fountain in the Upper Quarter.

 6: A Stealthy Investigation

    The Upper Quarter was the district that surrounded the palace.  It was where most of the nobility and upper-class merchants lived. The houses were large and opulent, at least when compared to the hovels the lower classes lived in, and those lower-class houses were opulent compared to the shanties of Foregate.


    Compared to where Aeolwyn lived, these were all shanties. The size and opulence of the Teorton palace was legendary, and according to his father it was the most opulent palace in all of Laryndor.


    All the roads were cleaned and well maintained. They were paved with cobbles, like the palace, only the roads to the palace had their cobbles shaved smooth. Laryn forbid if his father spilled a drink because his carriage hit an excessively tall cobblestone.


    The roads were arranged in a hub and spoke pattern with the palace at the center. Where the more important roads intersected, squares were erected with shops and temples and lavishly decorated with large water-spewing fountains.


    The Forlyn fountain was a smaller fountain at one of the less important intersections. Unlike the massive 3-teired Erolwyn fountain erected by one of his ancestors, the Forlyn fountain only had a single teir. It was themed as a carving of a kraken, with the central tower being the beast¡¯s head. The kraken¡¯s many arms snaked out underwater, along the bottom of the fountain until the came up along the lip.


    During the day, water sprayed out from the kraken¡¯s head as well as its arms. During feast days, the fountain would be magically programmed to spray water out in a variety of complicated patterns, giving the kraken the illusion of life.


    His brother Alfyn was already at the fountain when he arrived, along with two of his noble friends. Aeolwyn recognized both of them immediately. One, the tallest of the bunch was dressed in a black tunic and matching pants, with a small sword at his hip. That was Egnever, who fancied himself a sort of gentleman assassin-for-hire.


    The other one, a shorter bearded man was Rurik. He was also dressed in a black tunic embroidered in gold. Instead of pants, he wore elegant dark green tights and stout brown boots. He wore no weapons, except for a small dinner knife at his hip. Of the two, Rurik was more dangerous.


    Like the others, his brother was dressed in all black. Unlike the others, his was very plain, with no embroidery, and no image of the rearing dragon that was the sigil of the royal house. The clothes were still made from very fine material, the two princes wouldn¡¯t be caught in anything else; their father would whip them if they were.


    ¡°I told you to wear black, Aeolwyn,¡± Alfyn said, jumping off the fountain.


    ¡°No you didn¡¯t,¡± Aeolwyn replied. But had he? Aeolwyn mentally replayed their conversation back in his head, and he couldn¡¯t remember him saying any such thing. Aeolwyn would have to do better. Alfyn would be king someday, and he couldn¡¯t forget his king¡¯s orders.


    ¡°I did,¡± Alfyn said, ¡°but I guess dark green will have to do.¡±


    Egnever chuckled. ¡°At least he didn¡¯t wear pink,¡± he said.


    Rurik tried to stifle a laugh but failed. He burst out into a honking guffaw until Alfyn slapped him upside the head. Rage overcame the shorter man¡¯s face, and he took a step towards the future king. Rurik wrestled his body under control before he did something he knew he would regret.


    He turned to Aeolwyn. ¡°Do you know what we¡¯re doing?¡±


    Aeolwyn shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he said. Rurik, though full grown was not a tall man. At 12, Aeolwyn was already near his height, and would surpass him in a year. He was rich, however. His father was a powerful soldier in the king¡¯s army. A knight-general of the northern army if Aeolwyn remembered correctly, though, as a knight, he spent most of his time at home.


    Alfyn smiled slyly and winked at his brother. ¡°We¡¯re infiltrating the Star Base.¡±


    ¡°What? That¡¯s really dangerous!¡±


    He didn¡¯t expect an adventure like this. He thought they would sneak down to the pub and steal a beer or go to the brothels near the docks to see what all the fuss was about. Not breaking into one of the most heavily guarded fortresses in all of Teorton!


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter,¡± Rurik said, ¡°scared?¡±


    Rurik smiled and jabbed an elbow into Egnever¡¯s ribs, who also grinned. Alfyn just rolled his eyes and smirked. ¡°No one¡¯s forcing you to go, Aeolwyn,¡± his brother said. ¡°You can just go running back to papa.¡±


    Aeolwyn could feel the heat in his face. He called his father papa much longer than his brother considered proper, and mocked him mercilessly for it, suggesting that Aeolwyn was still a baby sucking on their mother¡¯s tit. Even though he had stopped using the moniker many years ago, Alfyn still used it to insult him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not running anywhere,¡± Aeolwyn said. If Alfyn and his friends were brave enough to go, then he was brave enough to go. He wouldn¡¯t be mocked for being a coward in front of his brother¡¯s friends. If he was, he wouldn¡¯t be taken seriously as a military leader when Alfyn was king.


    Aeolwyn headed down the street to his left, known as Cockard¡¯s Row. It led to the edge of the Upper District, and more or less directly to the Teorton Star Base, the home of the Star Children. He stopped and turned back to Alfyn and his friends. ¡°Are you coming?¡±


    When the other three managed to close their gaping mouths, they quickly caught up to Aeolwyn and let him lead them down the street, though his brother tried to push him out of the way so he could lead. Aeolwyn let him; he was going to be king one day, after all.


    ¡°What¡¯s so great about the Star Base?¡± Aeolwyn asked as they walked.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been going behind father¡¯s back and visiting a lot of the noble houses,¡± Alfyn replied. ¡°They¡¯re planning something, and I want to know what.¡±


    The Star Children were always planning something, that was nothing new. They were always visiting nobles and commoners alike looking for new recruits. Why should that be any different now? His father had a spy network. Maybe he shared some of that information with Alfyn.


    ¡°What makes this time different?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Alfyn said, ¡°but father is worried about it.¡±


    So, he had heard it from their father. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t surprised. Alfyn had been ordered to regularly attend the privy council meetings, where they discussed the most vital information in the kingdom. His brother probably knew all sorts of secrets.


    They continued to walk down Cockard¡¯s Row until they reached the tall gates of the Star Base. The base itself was a round keep surrounded by a star shaped wall matching their sigil. Their sigil was an 8-pointed star similar to a compass, with the 4 cardinal points being longer than the other two.


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    Unlike most of the other gatehouses of the noble families who used ornate metal gates, the Star Children had stout wooden gates, manned on either side by two guards in armor covered in a white tabard with the Star Children¡¯s sigil emblazoned on it with gold thread.


    Even the wood gates had their logo inlaid into them using a white colored maple to contrast with the dark oak the rest of the gate was made from. The tall walls were made from stone and whitewashed with plaster polished so regularly it gleamed, even at night when it was only lit by torchlight. It was an impressive structure to behold.


    They stayed in the shadows when they got close to the building to avoid being noticed by the gate guards. The guards may have looked bored, but Alfyn wasn¡¯t about to trust that they wouldn¡¯t be watching. He made sure all four of them stuck tight to the shadows and avoided the torchlight; especially Aeolwyn.


    Aeolwyn started getting annoyed with Alfyn; he made sure he was close and was always ordering him around like he was still a little boy. He knew how to be careful.  He did sneak out of the palace on his own, didn¡¯t he?


    ¡°How do we get in?¡± Aeolwyn whispered.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Alfyn answered.


    He turned to Rurik and beckoned him forward. The squat little man came over and took a long look at the Star Base. He moved his head back and forth, squatted down, then got on all fours, and then flat as a board while he studied it.


    ¡°Over the front door,¡± Rurik said and motioned to Egnever.


    The rest happened so fast, Aeolwyn¡¯s head spun. Egnever did some strange incantations with his hands, mumbled a few words under his breath, and then shoved his open palm out towards the guards. A thin blue ray shot out from his palm and expanded into a cone, covering both guards. The guards immediately slumped over and fell to the ground.


    ¡°Go!¡± Alfyn whispered, grabbing Aeolwyn¡¯s arm. All four of them ran towards the door while Rurik reached into his coat and pulled out a grappling hook, which he swung around his head and then threw over the gate as soon as they were close enough.


    Egnever leapt atop Rurik¡¯s shoulders and jumped, grabbing the rope and shimmying his way up. Alfyn and Rurik grabbed Aeolwyn by the ankles and hoisted him as far as they could. He grabbed the rope and started climbing.


    He wasn¡¯t as strong as the others and his muscles started aching after climbing a few feet. He felt stuck. He couldn¡¯t hold on anymore, but if he let go, he would fall, presumably to his death. His brother was whisper-shouting at him to hurry up, but he was frozen with fear.


    Just as he felt his muscles giving out, Egnever reached out with his long arms and grabbed Aeolwyn¡¯s wrist. He pulled him the rest of the way, giving time for Rurik and Alfyn to climb up after him.


    Once they were atop the wall, Alfyn whacked him on the side of his head.


    ¡°When I say hurry, I mean hurry! Now go!¡±


    Rurik pulled up the rope, flipped it around, and shimmied down it. Aeolwyn was next, and fortunately, sliding down the rope wasn¡¯t nearly as difficult as climbing it. Alfyn and Egnever came down next. Once they were all on the ground, Rurik shook the rope loose and caught the hook as it came down, then stowed it away as they hurried off into the darkness.


    ¡°You know magic?¡± Aeolwyn was finally able to ask Egnever. He didn¡¯t know nobles were even allowed to study magic. His father wasn¡¯t particularly fond of it, despite having a court sorcerer who was important enough to him that he sat on his privy council.


    Egnever just gave him a sly wink as they made their way to the central keep.


    As far as keeps went, it wasn¡¯t anything special. Like the walls, it was whitewashed and polished until it shone. With all the money that the Star Children had spent on the building, Aeolwyn would have expected the tower to be massive, but it wasn¡¯t. It was only about three stories tall. Unexpected in a neighborhood where a building with only three stories was considered poor.


    A few doors were scattered along its circumference, with large double doors facing the gate they had just climbed over. All the doors were guarded, but thanks to some luck and quick movement, the guards at the front door hadn¡¯t seen them.


    ¡°How do we get in?¡± Aeolwyn whispered.


    Alfyn glared at him, but it was a reasonable question. It wasn¡¯t just two guards to put to sleep this time. In addition to the door guards, there were roving patrols they had to contend with. They couldn¡¯t wait here, or one of the patrols would find them, but neither could they move, since the door guards would spot them.


    Alfyn looked to his two friends as the patrolling guards neared. He reached into a pocket in his trousers and pulled out a thin rod. A wand? What would he need that for, and why didn¡¯t Aeolwyn get one?


    ¡°Hey!¡± Alfyn shouted, and then was¡­gone. He had just instantly vanished.


    Rurik and Egnever also had wands in their hands but were both shaking them, a look of panic starting to sprout on both of their faces. Egnever began waving his hand over the wand, while Rurik started hitting his against a stick, but neither wand appeared functional.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± one of the guards shouted as the four Star Children raced towards the remaining three men. Panic began to set in. What had Alfyn gotten him into? This wasn¡¯t how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to get in and out without being noticed!


    Rurik broke and ran, his short legs stretching as far as they could with each stride. He was fast for his height, but not fast enough. A quiet ffft raced past them and moments later an arrow struck Rurik in the back. He collapsed.


    Aeolwyn was paralyzed with fear. Egnever was still working his hands, but whatever magic he had used before wasn¡¯t working. Alarm bells began ringing all over the courtyard and men in various states of dress began pouring out of the tower, each bearing a sword and a shield.


    As the guards came upon them, both Egnever and Aeolwyn just raised their hands in surrender. Neither wanted Rurik¡¯s fate.


    ¡°Who are you? What are you doing here?¡± One of the guards yelled as he pointed the tip of his sword at Aeolwyn¡¯s throat. Aeolwyn was too scared to respond. He could do nothing but burst into tears. What was his father going to say? He was suddenly in a lot of trouble.


    Another guard with a sword still in its scabbard came up behind the two of them. Aeolwyn wished he was brave enough to pull the guard¡¯s sword from its scabbard and use it to free him and Egnever, but he couldn¡¯t.


    Instead, the guard grabbed his hands and bound them together behind his back, then did the same to Egnever. Safely restrained, the guard shoved them into motion.


    ¡°Where are you taking us?¡± Egnever said in a braver voice than Aeolwyn could muster.


    ¡°The dungeons,¡± the guard said. ¡°Where else would we take trespassers?¡±


    Dungeons? Were they to be tortured? This was turning into the stories his nanny Mistress Growlins used to tell him. The brave warrior would be taken to be tortured and then escape at the last minute without telling his captors anything.


    Right now, Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t imagine being that brave. He wondered if he should tell them who he was, and if that would make a difference. The Star Children weren¡¯t particularly fond of his father and would like the idea of one of his sons sneaking into their fortress even less. What if they killed him on the spot? He couldn¡¯t take that risk. So, he just hung his head and wept as silently as he could.


    They led them through one of the side doors of the keep. The walls inside gleamed even brighter than the walls outside. They were stark, barren of any decoration, except for labels at doors, and the occasional sigil.


    They went through a door and down a darkened set of stars. The walls weren¡¯t whitewashed or plastered, it was hallway after hallway of bare stone as they went deeper and deeper into the basements. At this rate, there was more of the tower below ground than above.


    Eventually they came to a large door with a peephole in it. One guard banged on the door and the peephole opened then closed as the man on the other side recognized the guard who knocked. A moment later the door opened and Aeolwyn and Egnever were shoved through.


    Inside was a long hallway lined with wooden doors. Each door had another miniature door at head height covered with little bars. The interior guard opened the nearest one with a key and threw Egnever in it, closing it and locking it behind him.


    They then dragged Aeolwyn a few doors down and did the same to him. He collapsed on the hard stone ground. The cell was plunged into darkness as the door slammed shut, leaving only a slight sliver of torchlight from the gaps in the door.


    The cell stunk of piss, shit, and death. The stone was slimy where it wasn¡¯t covered in rushes. Though he couldn¡¯t see, he knew the walls would be as slimy. He could touch each side of the cell with his outstretched arms, but it appeared to be longer from door to the back wall.


    He could stand comfortably, but a tall adult like Egnever would have trouble doing so.


    He slumped down against the far wall. What was he going to do? Not only was he caught, he was caught by the Star Children. What were they going to do to him? Leave him here to rot? They couldn¡¯t! He would be rescued for sure. His brother was probably telling his father right now. He wouldn¡¯t have to wait long.


    A voice in his head was telling him his brother did this on purpose, but he wouldn¡¯t believe that. His brother might be an arrogant prick sometimes, but he wouldn¡¯t do anything to hurt Aeolwyn, would he?


    Or would he?

 7: An Insulted King

    The gentle shaking reminded Llarwyn of his time at sea, sailing to Tambryne to meet with Archduke Rovaielle, the ruler of the Duchy of Tambryne. He was as dark a man as Llarwyn had ever seen. That wasn¡¯t common in Camulan, but in Tambryne, it was a sign of royalty.


    The sea voyage was long and arduous. They had gone in winter when the storms were up, and had been nearly shipwrecked three times. It was then that Llarwyn had sworn never to go by ship anywhere again, or leave Teorton, for that matter.


    ¡°Your Grace?¡± A voice said as the shaking got stronger. He became aware of a hand on his shoulder. He was not at sea at all, he was in the palace, in his bed. It was warm and soft. A gentle breeze was blowing through his open windows.


    He opened his eyes. His chamberlain, Lord Smyton¡¯s wrinkled, gaunt face was staring down at him. He couldn¡¯t help but stare at the massive wart that took a prominent spot on his beak-like nose. He could smell the man¡¯s fish-breath, even though he was still a proper distance away from the king.


    ¡°What is it, Smyton?¡± It was still the small hours of dawn. The sun¡¯s light had barely started making itself known in Llarwyn¡¯s bedchamber. He never was woken this early. Something must be wrong.


    He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Smyton, who already had the king¡¯s gold-embroidered silk robe wrapped it around his shoulders and helped him up. The polished marble floors were cold to his bare feet. Smyton had forgotten his slippers. Strange, he wasn¡¯t one to forget things.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± he said, ¡°there has been an incident at the Star Children¡¯s palace.¡±


    ¡°Did it burn down?¡± He asked. He looked out his window. He had a good view from his bedchambers and would have been able to see the smoke if it had caught fire in the night. No such luck. He couldn¡¯t see the building, but he was sure it was still standing.


    ¡°No, Your Grace. It seems that Prince Aeolwyn was caught inside their walls last night.¡±


    Llarwyn sat down hard on the chair that was set by the window where he usually had his breakfast. Aeolwyn was in the Star Base last night? What was he doing there? More importantly, how did he get out of the palace?


    ¡°What do you mean, caught inside their walls?¡±


    Lord Smyton rang a bell, indicating to the servants waiting outside that Llarwyn was ready for his breakfast. Immediately two waif-like men rushed in carrying a tray of food, a goblet, and a jug of wine. He hoped the food wasn¡¯t getting cold.


    ¡°Exactly that, Your Grace. He had somehow found his way inside their walls and was caught trying to get into their keep.¡±


    The servants set the tray on the table in front of him. A large cup of barley stew sat in front of him, along with a plate of fruit and a small hunk of lamb and a slice of bread. He grabbed the bread, dipped it into the barley soup and started eating.


    ¡°How, Lord Chamberlain? How did my son get out of the palace, and infiltrate one of the most secure buildings in all of Teorton?¡±


    In truth, he was a little proud of his youngest son, for having the nerve to sneak out of the palace and go straight to the Star Children¡¯s base. But why? And how? He was a crafty boy, but he couldn¡¯t have done this alone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Your Grace. The Star Children¡¯s messenger only said that he had been caught and was being held.¡± Smyton paused, glancing nervously at the king. ¡°They are awaiting your response.¡±


    Llarwyn slammed his fist on the table, knocking the bowl of soup over and spilling its contents. A large puddle made its way to the edge of the table and began dripping on the floor. One of the servants got to his knees and began wiping up the mess with his sleeve.


    ¡°They dare hold my son prisoner? How are we to tolerate that? Send word to Lord-General Harmin to assemble the troops. And summon Ulfnar. That boy has some explaining to do!¡±


    It had to be Ulfnar who helped him. The younger of the two twins knew the palace inside and out and knew of every secret passage it held. If anyone was going to help Aeolwyn to sneak out of the palace, he would be the one.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Smyton said with a bit of condescension in his voice, either to calm Llarwyn or try to explain something he should already know. Petulant little oaf. He might have to smack the man upside his head.


    ¡°I think it would be best to resolve this without violence,¡± Smyton continued. ¡°The Star Children have an impressive force themselves, and the nobles might take offense to the military running rampant in the city.¡±


    He did have a point. The Star Children had been ringing the doorbells of just about every noble in Teorton. It was possible that some of the noble sons were among the Star Children. He couldn¡¯t just up and attack the nobility. At least, not right away.


    Perhaps he could take Shield Lord Barin up on his offer of help. They Shielders would have no trouble bringing a group of soldiers in to assault the Star Base. They would have the place in flames by the end of the day.


    But that brought its own host of problems. The Shielders would expect something in return, and not just money. They might demand another seat on the council, or even that a Shielder take Smyton¡¯s place as lord chamberlain.


    Even worse, they might want permanent residence in the city; that would be a disaster. It wouldn¡¯t take long before they started running the whole town under the guise of ¡®Shield security.¡¯ He couldn¡¯t allow that; it would erode his power in Teorton to a nub.


    ¡°What do you suggest, Lord Smyton?¡±


    ¡°My lord, there must be a way we can use this to our advantage. You told the crown prince and I how you are worried about Aeolwyn¡¯s popularity. Perhaps we can use this event to remove Prince Aeolwyn from the table, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°I will not kill my own son!¡± Llarwyn shouted. ¡°He may be a danger to Alfyn¡¯s rule one day, but that day is far off. Nor will I allow harm to befall him. I hope you let the Star Children¡¯s messenger know that there will be severe repercussions if they are not treating him well.¡±


    Lord Smyton took a step back, folding his hands together. His comment had angered Llarwyn and the lord chamberlain knew it. Aeolwyn might be a pain in his backside, but he was still family. He wouldn¡¯t allow any harm to come to him, for both political and personal reasons.


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    ¡°Of course not, Your Grace. I apologize if I suggested otherwise; I didn¡¯t mean to. What I meant was¡ª¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you meant!¡±


    He was right in suggesting that he could use this to his advantage though. Maybe if he brought one of the Star Children face to face, he could have a conversation with him under the guise of negotiation and find out what they were up to.


    With one of the Star Children in his possession, that would give him an important advantage in getting Aeolwyn released, along with the intelligence the Star Child he acquired would give him, this could turn out nicely.


    ¡°Send someone out to acquire one of the Star Children.¡±


    ¡°We can do better than that, Your Grace. I am told that Lord Longinus himself is in town.¡±


    Lord Longinus? He was the supreme ruler over all of the Star Children. He never left the Grand Star Base in Branson¡¯s Fork.  What we he doing in Teorton? Whatever they were scheming was bigger than he expected.


    ¡°Very well. Summon him for an audience. He will answer for this.¡±


    Lord Smyton bowed. ¡°As you command, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°But I still want someone to acquire one of the Star Children. I need bargaining power while he is here.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lord Smyton answered. ¡°There were more people involved in this, Your Grace. It appears Egnever from house Thaed was also taken prisoner.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s one of Alfyn¡¯s friends. What was he doing there?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Your Grace. Also, Prince Alfyn¡¯s friend Rurik was killed.¡±


    ¡°Bloody Laryn!¡± Llarwyn cursed. This was getting worse. If Alfyn was involved and got a noble¡¯s son killed, that would be a major incident. Rurik¡¯s family, House Asconse were only earls, but Earl Asconse was a knight-general. They could cause major problems in revenge if Llarwyn didn¡¯t placate them, and the cost for a dead noble would be high.


    ¡°This couldn¡¯t get any worse, Smyton, and it doesn¡¯t look good for you. You are in charge of my household, and it appears two of my sons escaped during the night.¡±


    Lord Smyton¡¯s face went pale. He knew he bore some responsibility for this fiasco. ¡°Yes, Your Grace,¡± the chamberlain said, ¡°I will have it investigated immediately and thoroughly.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you will,¡± Llarwyn said. ¡°Send Lord Asconce and his wife our condolences and tell Lord Thaed we are doing our utmost to get their son released.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe they know yet, sire.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯m not about to be the one to tell them. Now get out. I¡¯d like to finish my breakfast in peace.¡±


    He tried to finish the soup, he really did, but he just couldn¡¯t get the thoughts out of his head.  The absolute gall of them! The gall of Aeolwyn to sneak out of the palace at midnight; the gall of Ulfnar for helping him; and the gall of the Star Children for imprisoning his son.  He was a prince! How dare they.


    He was pleased, however, if only slightly. Aeolwyn had somehow found out that the Star Children were behaving strangely and took it upon himself to find out why. If only the crown prince were bold enough to. Alfyn was the one who should be showing such initiative. Though, as crown prince, he should be wise enough to not go himself for the information. Aeolwyn should have shown such discretion.


    What was he to do with the boy? He would have to be punished, after all. By him, not the Star Children. They would have to be punished as well. They couldn¡¯t be allowed to get away with this insult. Not something overt, as much as he would like to. He couldn¡¯t take Shield Lord Barin¡¯s offer, either. It would have to be subtle, yet obvious enough to the Star Children and the nobles that it was the king who imposed this punishment.


    Perhaps an assassination? A random fire in the palace of the Star Children would be a good choice as well. All he would have to do is bribe one of the Star Children to knock over a lamp in the kitchen, and that would be it.


    He could see the flames in his mind already. The image of that squat little tower of theirs, just a smoldering pile of rubble brought a smile to his face. It was far enough away from the rest of the buildings on that street that there was little danger of the fire spreading to nearby buildings, but if it did, so what? As long as they couldn¡¯t prove it was the king¡¯s doing, the nobles who lived near would have no recourse. It was dangerous to make unprovable allegations of the king.


    Either would be a perfect job. He had just the assassin in mind should he choose to go that route. He¡¯d rather it be a fire though. That was less provable and more damaging, unless he killed the high leader, that buffoon Longinus, whatever that title was that he chose for himself. His Buffoonery had a nice ring to it.


    The door burst open and Lord Smyton scurried in again. Was he not to get any peace this morning? Maybe he¡¯d send Smyton down to get a few lashes for annoying him. Maybe that would get him some peace.


    He wouldn¡¯t do it of course, Smyton was a member of a powerful noble faction, and he¡¯d earned his place of honor in the king¡¯s staff. He would duly submit to punishment if ordered to, but he would also start his own schemes to get revenge on Llarwyn; he had no doubt of that.


    He would punish the man if necessary, but annoying him was hardly cause for punishment. Llarwyn wasn¡¯t cruel, no matter how much he wanted to be sometimes. He saw himself as a fair and just king.


    Smyton stood before him and bowed his head. ¡°Your Grace,¡± he said, ¡°you have visitors who wish to see you urgently.¡±


    ¡°Tell them I¡¯m busy.¡±


    Smyton scowled.  Not the proper sort of angry scowl, but the kind of scowl where you really wanted to yell at the person, but they would have your head if they did. That sort of scowl. A face if impatience and annoyance.


    ¡°Your Grace, you will want to see these two. Lords Thaed and Asconce have come.¡±


    Before he could stop himself, he swatted his arm out and knocked his barley soup from the table. The glass bowl shattered on the floor amid a spray of hot soup. Lord Smyton hopped away, trying avoid getting sprayed with soup, with only marginal success.


    ¡°Who the hell told them?¡±


    ¡°I can only assume it was Lord Longinus.¡± Smyton replied.


    Llarwyn eyed him strangely. Was there a hint of treachery in the chamberlain¡¯s voice? He dismissed it. Lord Smyton had been a valuable and loyal servant in his service to the king and was rewarded handsomely. He wouldn¡¯t give that up for whatever meager scraps the Star Children could offer.


    He sighed. He was not going to be able to have a moment¡¯s peace today. ¡°All right,¡± he said. ¡°Send them in.¡±


    The second Lord Smyton stepped out, two men came rushing in. The short, fat, bald one was Lord Asconce, who owned several ore mines in the east. He lived lavishly off the income it provided and spent much of his time traveling. It was just Llarwyn¡¯s luck that he would be in Teorton on the day his son was killed.


    Lord Thaed was a tall brute of a man. He was built like a boulder, with shoulders chiseled from granite and a jaw to match. He wore a large scabbard on his back that was normally home to a sword with a length of at least six feet. He had gotten involved in a company of mercenaries in Fehu and earned his massive wealth in campaigns against Nordenland across the Stormdren Mountains.


    Both of them, to their credit, formally bowed. They were both steaming mad, each of their faces contorted with anger. Lord Asconce looked as though he had been up all night. His eyes were red, his hair a matted mess, and his clothes disheveled.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± they said in unison.


    He stood, walked over to Lord Asconce and embraced him. ¡°My condolences, Stilgar.¡±


    ¡°What in Laryn happened, Your Grace? I demand that my son be released!¡± Lord Thaed said as soon as Asconce released the embrace. Thaed was quick to anger, but the king doubted he would dare lay a hand on him.  Still, he couldn¡¯t help the feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach.


    ¡°What of my son?¡± Stilgar protested. ¡°I want revenge for this. I wish for your permission to march down to their temple and burn it to the ground.¡±


    If only he could grant that request. Asconce had the men to do it, too. Some nobles had private security forces, and the number who did grew every year. It had been getting bad enough that Llarwyn had to cap the number of private soldiers within the city.


    ¡°Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, Lord Asconce, and if it comes to that, you will be the first one in line. But they have my son, and Lord Thaed¡¯s son. I have summoned Lord Longinus for an audience.¡±


    ¡°I wish to attend that audience.  I will wring his neck myself,¡± Thaed said.


    ¡°With your son as a hostage?¡± Llarwyn asked. ¡°They would kill him on the spot, and mine as well. No, we have to be diplomatic about this as long as they have our children. Only when we get them back can we plan our revenge.¡±


    ¡°We can burn their temple?¡± Asconce asked. He punched his fist into the palm of his other hand to emphasize his point.


    ¡°By we, I mean you. I can¡¯t be seen to have any part in this. I don¡¯t want a rebellion on my hands. Now sit down. I have a plan that will take careful consideration.¡±


    Asconce and Thaed sat down at Llarwyn¡¯s table. He told Lord Smyton to bring food and wine, and to keep their cups full. They were going to be here for a long time.

 8: A Prince in Prison

    Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t tell whether morning had come or not; the darkness of his cell had consumed everything. The only reliable source of information was his ears. The guards outside were mostly quiet, but they did speak on occasion. Usually regaling tales of imaginary battles that they fought in, girls that they¡¯d been with, and other stories popular among guards.


    Star Children were supposed to be celibate, so the guards clammed up when their superior officer entered for the shift change. He yelled at them for being sloppy and not standing at rigid attention for their entire shift. He upbraided them for not having their white uniforms squared away, and he lectured them on the benefits of piety and humility. Then ordered them to someone named Brother Judas for penance.


    Both groaned and shuffled out the door. Their replacements were instructed to set a better example than the last two, to which they replied with an enthusiastic, ¡°Yes, Star Child!¡±


    The last thing Aeolwyn heard of their superior was him closing the door behind him; then the guards were silent. He couldn¡¯t even hear them shift their feet. He wondered if they got tired standing at stiff attention for so long. He knew he would; he practiced it regularly. It was important for a soldier to be able to stand at attention for a long period of time.


    It wasn¡¯t even a thing that Sir Jom required, he just did it on his own. Some days he would wander the halls and stand at attention next to the palace guards. He tried to stand with them for as long as he could, but try as he might, he still wasn¡¯t able to make it their entire shift.


    The guards were good sports about it, reminding him to keep his shoulders back and not lock his knees. He asked why once, and the guard told him to try it and find out. He did, and the guard had to help him up off the floor when he passed out.


    Finally, after what could have been an hour, but could have been 5 minutes, one of the guards cleared his throat and said to the other, ¡°Wanna have some fun?¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound very good. It sounded less good when the other soldier grunted an assent. The sound of footsteps in the guard room got louder and louder until they stopped at his cell. Keys jangled, and then the lock to his door clicked and unbolted.


    Aeolwyn squinted as light flooded his cell. His hand went instinctively to protect his eyes. He could barely make out the shape of a large man in the doorway. The bright light hid any other detail about the man.


    His armor jingled and his heavy boots made loud thunks as he stomped into the cell and grabbed Aeolwyn by the arm and dragged him out of the cell. At the end of the long hallway of cells, where Aeolwyn had thought only a door lay was a small cubby, about the size of three cells. There was a small table with two chairs. It had been polished until it shone and was empty save for the candle in the center.


    The hallway and cubby were lit by torches, held in place by iron rings embedded into the stone.  Soot stained the walls above the torches as the flame rose to the ceiling. The flickering light played with Aeolwyn¡¯s brain after the complete darkness he had been in.


    The guard pulled on Aeolwyn¡¯s arm and threw him into the table. He tripped and slammed his face into the edge of the table. His legs gave out underneath him and he fell to the hard packed earth that served as a floor.


    ¡°How dare you,¡± he cried, ¡°do you know who I am?¡±


    He struggled to get to his feet. Some warrior he turned out to be. All the warriors in the stories were brave and invincible in a fight. He fell and was already on the verge of tears. He tried to stand and fought away his tears; soldiers didn¡¯t cry!


    ¡°I don¡¯t care boy,¡± the guard who had held him said and backhanded him with his left hand. He was struck by a soft leather glove, but that didn¡¯t take the pain out of his hit. Aeolwyn collapsed to the floor yet again.


    Once more he struggled to his feet and tried to take stock of his attacker. He was of average height for a man, which meant he had a good foot on Aeolwyn. He wore boiled leather armor underneath a white tabard with the sigil of the Star Children emblazoned on it. His fellow guard was dressed the same. The only difference between the two was that this man bore a large scar across his left eye, and his taller companion had a bushy moustache.


    ¡°My father is the king!¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°He will have you flayed for this!¡±


    The guard took a menacing step forward. Aeolwyn tried to back away and ran directly into the table he had tripped over. There was nowhere else to go.


    A muffled shout came from behind the cell door nearest the exit. ¡°Leave him alone,¡± it cried. It was Egnever coming to his defense. The man had magic. Why didn¡¯t he use it to get them out of here?


    The guard grabbed Aeolwyn by his shirt and pulled him close. His breath stank of rotten food. It reminded him of the servant who had unwittingly helped him escape the palace. He wished he had gotten caught!


    ¡°Your father has no power here, boy,¡± the guard said.


    Aeolwyn eyed the ruby-hilted dagger at the man¡¯s hip. His sword was out of reach, and of no use in these close quarters anyway, even if he could pull it from its scabbard. The dagger on the other hand was well within reach, and much more useful.


    As the guard reached back his hand for another slap, Aeolwyn acted. His hand raced out and grabbed the dagger. He pulled it out of its sheath and as quick as he could, plunged it into the guard¡¯s neck.


    A gurgled scream erupted from the man¡¯s mouth. Blood came out in spurts when Aeolwyn pulled the dagger out. In a few short moments, the man slumped to the ground, and after thrashing about for a few more, he was dead.


    The other guard was too shocked to react.


    Aeolwyn hadn¡¯t killed anything before. Sir Jom had talked about the feeling of your first kill at length. He talked about the mixed emotions, the rush you got when you were the victor in a life-or-death situation. He talked about the shock you felt at destroying another human being. He said you would feel bad for the victim¡¯s family.


    But Aeolwyn felt nothing. He just watched the man writhe on the floor until he stopped moving. All he really felt was relief that he wasn¡¯t being hurt by the man anymore.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to pay for that,¡± the other guard said suddenly, drawing his own dagger. He stepped forward, and Aeolwyn instinctively stepped back. He had surprised the other guard, but he wasn¡¯t strong enough, or well enough trained in knife fighting to fight this one. He was going to kill him!


    Just then the lock to the door behind them clinked and the door burst open. Two more Star Children came through. One, dressed like the others except for a gold braid around his collar.


    ¡°What the devil is going on here?¡± he shouted.


    The surviving guard immediately put his dagger away and bowed his head. ¡°Child Fraius,¡± he said fearfully. He gestured to Aeolwyn, ¡°this boy killed Brother Barius.¡±


    The man with the braid looked down at the body on the floor, then over to Aeolwyn, still holding the bloody dagger. He raised his right eyebrow and gave Aeolwyn a half-smile. ¡°Is this true, Highness?¡±


    The guard¡¯s eyes bulged out when the officer addressed Aeolwyn as highness. He took a few steps back and stood at attention against the wall.


    ¡°He attacked me for no reason,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°I had to defend myself. It¡¯s not my fault you don¡¯t teach your men to properly protect their weapons in close quarters combat!¡±


    The officer, who Aeolwyn could only assume was Child Fraius stifled a laugh. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know what he said was amusing. He hadn¡¯t meant to be funny, but Fraius¡¯ body relaxed, and his gaze softened.


    He turned to the guard now standing at attention. ¡°What was the prince doing out of his cell?¡± he asked.


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    ¡°Brother Barius was bored,¡± the guard explained. ¡°He thought the prince might be a good diversion.¡±


    ¡°Hrmph,¡± Fraius snorted. ¡°I will deal with you later. Brother Rinus, take Brother Falis¡¯ post while he deals with Barius¡¯ body.¡±


    ¡°It shall be so,¡± the guard with Fraius said, immediately moving inside the little cubby.


    Fraius turned to Aeolwyn and held out his hand. ¡°You will not be harmed, child,¡± he said softly. Reluctantly, Aeolwyn handed over the dagger. Frauis tossed it to Falis, the guard that had been about to Kill Aeolwyn.


    ¡°Come, your highness,¡± Fraius said. ¡°His Radiance wishes to speak with you.¡±


    With no other option, Aeolwyn followed Child Fraius out the door and up into the keep. The bare walls gave way to the same shiny, whitewashed plaster that he had seen from the outside. They went down hallway after hallway, up a few flights of stairs, and the stark white hallways began to have gold decorations. Some were the sigil of the Star Children, others were strange petroglyphs that Aeolwyn didn¡¯t understand.


    He made a special effort to look for any escape routes, and especially the doors that would lead to the servant corridors but could find none. He did not see a single servant during their whole walk. Instead, the Star Children themselves seemed to be the ones who took the duties of servants. Aeolwyn could only assume that they were of a lower rank than Fraius or even the guard he killed.


    Finally, on the highest floor, at what Aeolwyn judged to be the center of the keep was a set of large doors inlayed with gold that shone like the sun. He expected the gold inlays to be in the sigil of the Star Children, but they weren¡¯t.  It was just a series of vertical and horizontal bars that ran the length of both doors. Two very important looking guards stood outside dressed in a similar white tabard with their sigil on it, but instead of chainmail underneath, these guards were in a full harness of plate.


    As Fraius approached, the two guards wordlessly reached out and opened both doors for him. The two entered the room without breaking stride, and what a room it was. The stout desk was, by all appearances made from wood, but it was a type of wood Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t recognize. It was all white, and not just a light-colored tan, but pristine, sparkling white that had been polished until it shone. Like the doors, it had been inlayed with gold in a geometric pattern that traced the natural lines of the desk¡¯s shape.


    The man at the desk¡¯s gaunt face had sunken, hollow eyes, but they seemed to notice everything, including where Fraius stood, and the undershirt Aeolwyn had chosen to wear last night. The man was dressed in a fine silk robe with the Star Children¡¯s sigil emblazoned on the chest.  A tall hat that mimicked the sigil was on a stand to his left. Below the stand was another fine silk robe that looked to be a more formal version of what he was already wearing.


    ¡°I apologize for meeting you in such a miserly room, but one has to make do in situations like this,¡± the gaunt-faced man said, not looking up from his writing.


    If this room was miserly, Aeolwyn wondered what he thought was opulent. The room was octagonal in shape. The upward pointing triangular inlays on the cardinal walls were made of gold, including the largest one behind the desk. It was sparsely decorated; besides the desk, there was only a tall wooden stand that held clothing, a bookcase, and a small table with a pitcher and two goblets. A third goblet sat in front of the gaunt-faced man.


    ¡°You may sit,¡± he said. Fraius grabbed Aeolwyn¡¯s shoulders and herded him into the single chair that sat in front of the desk, opposite the gaunt-faced man. He then hurried around the desk, knelt before the man and bowed his head.


    ¡°Prince Aeolwyn delivered as ordered, Your Radiance.¡±


    The gaunt-faced man placed his left hand on Fraius¡¯ temple for a moment, and then put it back on his desk. Fraius stood up and moved to a position beside the desk. He stood tall with his shoulders back, feet spread apart, and hands clasped behind his back. It was a variation of a pose Sir Jom told him all soldiers used in formal situations: his mentor called it parade rest.


    The gaunt-faced man put down his quill and set both his hands flat on the desk. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Aeolwyn responded. Fraius shot a stern glance at Aeolwyn but said nothing. He had the gall to look offended. If the gaunt-faced man made no note of any disrespect at Aeolwyn¡¯s response.


    ¡°My name is Lord Longinus. I am the Supreme Star Lord of the Courageous Order of Heavens.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re the king of the Star Children?¡± Aeolwyn asked. He couldn¡¯t help his attitude. This man might be the ruler of a ridiculous cult, but he was a prince! What respect had he been shown? None; why should he give it in return?


    Lord Longinus rolled his eyes at his Star Children comment. They considered the term offensive and would prefer to be called a Child of the Courageous Order of Heavens. No one but them ever called them anything but the Star Children.


    ¡°I¡¯m hardly a king,¡± he answered. ¡°But we¡¯re not here to talk about me or my position. You¡¯re in a lot of trouble son. It¡¯s within my rights to execute you.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare execute me,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°My father would rain destruction down upon you and your order.¡± His confidence belied the icy fear that began rising up from the pit of his stomach. They wouldn¡¯t kill him, would they?


    ¡°You may have an overinflated estimation of your father¡¯s influence,¡± Fraius said.


    Aeolwyn slammed his hands down on the arms of his chair. ¡°My father is King!¡±


    ¡°Then why hasn¡¯t he rained destruction down upon us already?" Longinus asked, amused. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands and stared at Aeolwyn. ¡°The truth is,¡± Longinus paused for a moment to wet his lips, ¡°your father¡¯s rule is in a precarious position. The nobles are not happy with him, and it would take less than you think to encourage them to want a, shall we say, leadership change.


    ¡°Knowing that, I believe it would be a good strategic move for a leader in such a position to find some leverage to keep his grip on the throne,¡± Longinus leaned forward, tapping his hand on the desk, ¡°now tell me, young prince, what sort of leverage did your father send you here to retrieve?¡±


    ¡°My father didn¡¯t send me,¡± he said. Was his father¡¯s rule in jeopardy? Had he risked it even further by coming here? They were going to want to know why he was here, but he knew he couldn¡¯t tell them the truth, or, at least, not the complete truth. He had sworn to Alfyn not to. What would he tell them.


    ¡°We¡¯re expected to believe that you organized this infiltration by yourself?¡± Longinus¡¯s face wore an expression of incredulity.  ¡°That you and two noble sons whose fathers are friendly with the king planned this all on their own? To what end?¡±


    ¡°It was just a prank,¡± Aeolwyn said, with no better ideas in his head. ¡°To prove that we could.¡±


    ¡°A prank?¡± Longinus laughed. It came out as a thin, hoarse rasp. ¡°A boy died in your prank, and quite frankly, I¡¯m not sorry that he did. You might join him still. Choose your words carefully. Why have you come?¡±


    Aeolwyn burst into tears. He couldn¡¯t help it. He¡¯d tried to be strong, he tried to hold them back, but his exhaustion, combined with the fear that gripped him proved to be too powerful for him. Maybe he didn¡¯t have it in him to be the warrior he thought he was.


    He sobbed. He buried his head in his hands. He didn¡¯t want the lord of the Star Children to see. The tears just kept on coming. They rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto his dirty green doublet. He cried so much that he struggled to breathe. It was all he could do to stay seated in the chair.


    ¡°This is getting nowhere,¡± Longinus said. ¡°Guards! Take this boy back to his cell. Maybe some more time in there will loosen his tongue. Bring his friend instead. I bet he will be more willing to talk.¡±


    The two guards came beside Aeolwyn and ripped him out of his seat. They dragged him away even before he could get his feet under him. He tried to get his balance and exit the room with some dignity, but he failed. Sir Jom would be so disappointed in him.


    ***


    Fraius watched as the guards took the boy back to his cell. He only stayed because Longinus wished it. The boy was trouble. After killing Brother Barius, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the guards escorting the boy were found dead.


    He walked to the two great doors and closed them. They moved easily on their well-oiled hinges. The doors closed with a soft clink. He turned to Lord Longinus, who stared back with a soft, serene gaze.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, Your Radiance, you want the boy dead. You told me to kill him not two days ago. Yet now that we have him in our hands, you stay his execution. As you told him, we are well within our rights to do so. Why wait?¡±


    ¡°He can''t die while he is in our custody. It''s one thing to suggest that we might be responsible, and quite another to confirm it.¡± Lord Longinus picked up the sheet of paper he had been writing on when they arrived and started looking it over again.


    ¡°Why not? He killed Brother Barius.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Longinus said without looking from his paper.  ¡°From what I understand, Barius removed him from his cell without permission or instruction. For what? To play with him? I applaud the boy for his strength against a larger, stronger man.¡±


    How did Lord Longinus know? He hadn¡¯t told him until just now, and he had come straight here from the cells, alone, with the prince. There were no other people in the cells to witness it, and even if there were, they would not have made it to Lord Longinus faster than he did.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Do you want him dead or not?¡±


    Longinus put the paper down impatiently. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°But not now. As we have him, we have a bargaining tool. We will lose it if we execute him, and if you think that the king will respect our right to do so, you are sadly mistaken. Once we send his cold body to his father, we can expect furious retribution against us. Llarwyn would never tolerate such disrespect. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Not fully, but I will do as you say. What of the Thaed boy?¡±


    Longinus scoffed. ¡°He was just a pawn in this. We will ransom him back to his father.¡±


    ¡°Might I suggest some education is in order?¡±


    He didn¡¯t mean torture or punishment. He meant it exactly as he said it. Teach the Thaed boy some of their lower-level beliefs. Perhaps it would make him more sympathetic to their cause if he understood their goals.


    ¡°That,¡± Longinus said, smiling, ¡°is an excellent suggestion. But add some reprogramming as well. He would make an excellent sleeper agent. Make it so.¡±


    Diabolical. Having a young noble who was close to the ruling family would be invaluable. He could spy on them without even knowing it. If they chose, he could unwittingly become an instrument of sabotage or assassination.


    He bowed, ¡°As His Radiance commands,¡± he said. Turning, he strode from the room. He would need to visit both the Master of Lessons and Chief Inquisitor, and quickly too. He didn¡¯t know how long they would have the Thaed boy in their possession.

 9: Face to Face with the Enemy

    Longinus climbed into the carriage as Child Elyus held the door for him. It started to move even before he was settled in his seat. That suited him fine. He wanted this over with.


    This carriage that he had commandeered from the Lord of the Teorton Star Base, Star Captain Rinlous was as plain as it was uncomfortable. Sure, it was gilded with gold, inside and out, and it had soft cushions covering the hard wooden bench, but it was extraordinarily boring.


    Firstly, it only had two wheels instead of the four he was used to in his carriage at the Fortress of Heaven in Branson¡¯s Fork. Secondly, the suspension was horrid. He felt every bump and jostle, from the tiniest little street pebble to every large cobble out of place on the road. It made his old bones ache and threatened to shatter his teeth.


    And he was forced to sit upon a bench? The indignity of it all! His carriage at the Fortress of Heaven, aptly named Shooting Star, had a plush throne inside the large cabin. There was only room for one to be seated. If he wished to have a conversation with anyone while in transit, they would have to stand or kneel as was proper. Next time he traveled by boat, he would insist on bringing his carriage with them. He would ensure the captain would make room for it, even if he had to discard some of his precious cargo.


    It was bad enough that he had to go the king, instead of the other way around, but must he be tortured on the entire ride there? That was probably part of the king¡¯s plan. If the king had any foresight, he would have sent his worst carriage to ferry Longinus to him. That would indeed have sent a message. But the king wasn¡¯t as clever as that.


    The carriage clattered on through the rich streets of Teorton. The houses¡ªcompounds, really, were a disgusting display of rich opulence. Each one had a tall wall or fancy iron fencing, or both. All extravagantly decorated in expensive materials meant to show their wealth.


    Everywhere he looked were elaborately manicured hedges, intricately carved marble statues, and fountains decorated with gold. How much of the money they spent on such trifles could have gone to help the poor? Or defend Laryndor against its greatest threat? The monsters that loomed from the heavens?


    How could no one see that? The greatest danger facing Laryndor was not the various factions of rulers who were constantly scheming or fighting against each other. It wasn¡¯t the king of the Fenns, or the Archduke of Tambryne. It wasn¡¯t the elves or the mysterious Fortru, the dwarves, or the raiders from Nordenland.


    It was the invaders from space. They were out there, somewhere among the stars. They watched and analyzed. They knew all Laryndor¡¯s secrets and weaknesses, yet none worried about the threat they posed. When the monsters from the heavens invaded, it would be a catastrophe.


    That was why the Courageous Order of Heavens was founded. It was their goal and responsibility to face the threats from space head-on and fight the monsters when they finally chose to invade. But to do that, they needed support. They needed warriors and gold and equipment. If only their mortal enemies, the Shielders would share their equipment and tactics.


    They would all bow to Longinus one day. When the Children repelled the invasion without the help of the kingdoms, he would be in charge. They would all owe so great a debt to him and the Children, they would be honor bound to make him their ruler. And if they didn¡¯t, they would join the invaders in their assault, for a time at least, and take their crowns by force.


    The carriage clattered to a halt at the large brick gatehouse entrance to the king¡¯s palace. Two guards stood beside him. They wore tabards with the rearing dragon sigil of the king¡¯s house over chainmail armor. Each held a long halberd and carried a sword on their hips. The only thing Longinus could think was how useless these two men would be in the face of his magic. Just as his gate guards had been useless in the face of the young prince¡¯s magic. One little spell and they had slept for hours. That was something Longinus would have to address. He needed more sorcerers.


    The carriage driver spoke briefly to the gate guards, who stepped away for a moment before opening the gate. The carriage lurched into motion and Longinus left the gatekeepers behind while the carriage made the final bit of the journey to the front door of the palace.


    The courtyard was, once again, a paragon of opulence. Every wall was decorated with marble statues and cascading fountains. The palace itself was made of brick and stone and covered with plaster. In areas where one would expect an iron gate, the king instead had used gold and silver. It was disgusting. How many mouths could just this courtyard feed? How many weapons could they have paid for to defend Laryndor from the Threat?


    The carriage finally, mercifully, pulled to a stop. He wasn¡¯t sure his insides could have tolerated any further bouncing about. He had lost all feeling in his buttocks, possibly permanently. He was going to be traveling with his own carriage in the future.


    The driver hopped down and popped the door open. A servant bearing King Llarwyn¡¯s livery had brought a stool and set it before Longinus. The driver held out his hand and helped Longinus out. He stepped down with his head high and shoulders back. No doubt the king was hiding behind a window somewhere watching for weakness; something Longinus would have done in his place.


    A man dressed in the an all black version of the same livery as the servant, in much finer material and cut stepped forward. A large wart was prominent on his thin, beaked nose and gaunt face. Despite having the look of a decaying corpse, he seemed a spry fellow. He hopped down the stairs and presented himself before Longinus. He bowed his head slightly in a small show of respect for Longinus¡¯ position.


    ¡°Welcome, Lord Longinus,¡± the man said, ¡°I am Lord Smyton, the king¡¯s Chamberlain. I have come to escort you to His Grace, King Llarwyn.¡±


    Longinus didn¡¯t say anything. He just gestured toward the door in a manner that suggested he said lead on and started walking towards the door. Lord Smyton had to hurry to catch up with him lest it be assumed that the leader of the Courageous Order of Heavens was the one leading Smyton into the palace.


    Once inside the palace, the opulence continued. The walls were well-painted plaster, and just about every wall was covered with a tapestry depicting soldiers fighting in blood-splashed armor in what was most likely glorious victories for the Kingdom of Camulan. Those days seemed long, long ago, and according to the apparent condition of the tapestries, they were. The current king wouldn¡¯t know a glorious victory if it hit him upon the head.


    It wasn¡¯t long before he was led to a pair of large elaborately carved double doors. Servants had been scurrying around, disappearing behind hidden doors, but that activity had ceased. All he saw at the entrance to the double doors was another pair of guards with halberds flanking the doors.


    Lord Smyton bid him to wait and disappeared behind the doors. He didn¡¯t have to ask the guards where he was to ascertain his location. This was the Grand Throne Room. What an insult. The king had brought him here to meet with him like a common supplicant¡ªas though he were petitioning the king to rule between him and some peasant farmer who had stolen his sheep.


    He had expected Smyton to return quickly, but he did not. Longinus was made to stand in the hallway trying not to look anxious and bored. There was no seat to rest upon, nor any refreshments provided. He just had to stand there. He did his best to keep his head up and shoulder¡¯s back, but his old muscles ached from holding the position for so long. After a while his knees and feet started to get sore, and a cramp was threatening to climb its way up his calf. His initial annoyance had grown past insult and anger. It was well on its way towards red-hot rage.


    How dare he be kept out here waiting. He had the king¡¯s son as a prisoner. He was within his rights to execute him. He would expect that his grace would be eager to meet with him. Why had he not been shown all the respect and grace as befitted his station? Were the other nobles also treated like this? Maybe it was time to encourage a revolt among them. This treatment was just disgraceful!


    The doors finally opened, and Lord Smyton reappeared holding an elaborately decorated staff. He beckoned Lord Longinus in, making him stop at the threshold. Smyton thumped the staff on the ground twice before speaking.


    ¡°His Radiance Longinus, Supreme Star Lord of the Courageous Order of Heavens!¡± He announced loudly.


    To no one; the room was empty. Well, not entirely empty. It was filled with the king¡¯s household guards, over a hundred of them by Longinus¡¯ estimation. Each in plate armor polished so much it shone like the sun. Over that armor they wore clean white tabards with the sigil of Llarwyn¡¯s house emblazoned upon it. Ranks upon ranks of men carried halberds with swords at their hips. Higher up in the balconies of the throne room were archers, dressed similarly, save for the armor. Instead of plate, they were dressed in simple leather.


    Very grand for such a simple meeting.


    The soldiers appeared to be guarding an empty room. The king, his retainers, his counselors, all missing. Not even a servant was in attendance. He had been made to wait at the door, and now he was going to be made to wait once again.


    The room itself was a large hall supported by thick marble pillars. Each one of these led up to a crisscrossing of groined vaults. These, like the tapestries were elaborately painted with scenes from battles where Llarwyn¡¯s house was the victor.


    At the head of the room, directly opposite the door sat the throne on an elevated dais. It was made from solid gold, or so the stories said, and covered in red, plush velvet cushions. The engravings were of bears battling men with swords. Some called this the Bear Throne, and its reputation was that it was won in blood, which was what the red cushions symbolized.


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    Fortunately, this time, he didn¡¯t have to wait long. After a clearly measured amount of time, Lord Smyton mounted the dais and opened a door to his left. From this door a dozen trumpeters marched out, dressed very lavishly in velvet doublets. They brought their horns to their lips and blew a glorious fanfare. It was so loud that Longinus had to cover his ears.


    When they were finished, Smyton waited another measured time, then banged his stick on the floor again and shouted, ¡°His Lordship Kaorc of House Thaed, Warden of the Fort, Baron of Camulan!¡±


    The man who entered was a tall, brutish man. He would always be at least a head taller than everyone else in the room, and had clearly been made from stone, not born from anything human. He scowled at Longinus as he crossed the dais to stand beside the throne. The empty scabbard on his back told of a massive sword that he would normally carry.


    This was the father of the young man who had been captured along with the prince. He was a powerful noble with a very large and very private army at his disposal. If he chose to, he would be a real threat to Llarwyn¡¯s hold on the throne.


    Once again, the trumpeters put their horns to their mouths and blew a loud fanfare, more extravagant than the last with melodies and counter melodies layering on top of each other and a grand and impressive tapestry of sound. Longinus would have enjoyed it if it weren¡¯t so loud he couldn¡¯t hear himself think.


    Immediately after the trumpeters had finished, Smyton once again banged his stick on the ground three times, then a pause, then three more times. On the third of each round of pounding, the assembled soldiers pounded their halberds into the ground with a deafening thump.


    ¡°His grace, King Llarwyn of house Camul, Defender of the Coast, Lord of the Claws, Conqueror of the Vanquished, Master of the Great Bog, King of Camulan!¡±


    The soldiers began banging their halberds in a steady rhythm. Young children gracefully danced from the door with baskets of flower petals, which they gleefully tossed along the path between the door and the throne.


    Next to enter was Archstar Boress, the Highest of the Temple of Laryn and Lord of the Faith. He was dressed in an elaborate white robe embroidered with thread-of-gold from the top to the bottom in strange glyphs and circular designs. He wore a large oblong conical hat atop his head.


    He entered just ahead of the king, who was dressed in a massive golden crown, and a red velvet cloak trimmed in fur. His fat doublet had been stretched so tight around his expanding midsection that Longinus was afraid that the buttons would fail to hold his girth back.


    He carried a small symbolic shield in his hand that bore a dragon sigil in one hand, and a small staff with a golden spear point at its tip in the other. The Dragonshield and Spear, symbols of the office of the King of Camulan.


    Instead of the normal staff of his office, the archstar carried a vessel filled with a liquid, probably an oil that he sprinkled over the path and atop the king¡¯s head as he walked grandly to the throne.


    As soon as the king entered, the guards began yelling, ¡°For the king!¡± over and over. Between that, the pounding of their halberds on the ground, and the new melody the trumpeters had begin playing, Longinus felt like his head was going to explode. He clapped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to protect his hearing.


    When the king finally sat on the throne, all sound stopped abruptly. The sudden silence was deafening. He felt as though he had been running along a road and the road and suddenly vanished, and he was in a limbo of hovering just before he would begin to fall. He shuffled his feet to make sure that he was still grounded.


    The children sprinkled him with their flower petals while the archstar anointed him with the oil. ¡°Be wise, be merciful, be just,¡± the archstar kept repeating as he poured.


    When the archstar completed his ritual, he walked to the side of the throne opposite Lord Thaed while the children took their leave. They walked backwards along the path to the door, never once turning their back on the king.


    The king looked at Longinus expectantly, waiting for him to do something. Make a formal bow, he supposed. He would not do it. Instead, he bowed his head slightly as Lord Smyton had done to him.


    It appeared to be enough. ¡°My Lord Longinus,¡± the king began, ¡°apologies for keeping you waiting. I had important matters of state that required my urgent attention.¡±


    ¡°Is all this necessary, Your Grace?¡± Longinus asked. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we retire to a more intimate setting?¡± He had slim hope that they would after all the pomp and circumstance they had just gone through, but he had to make the effort.


    ¡°I receive you with all the respect and glory your station is due, and you have the nerve to be offended?¡± the king asked.


    There was a commotion at the main doors to the throne room. Someone was trying to come in, but the guards were doing their absolute best to keep them out. There was some yelling and shouting, but with the doors closed, Longinus couldn¡¯t make the words out.


    Then there was a loud thump against the doors, followed by another. Both doors opened and a small man with a beard entered. He was nearly short enough to be a dwarf, though he was clearly human. He was a man who needed no introduction. This was Lord Asconce, the father of the boy his guards had killed. Behind him the two guards lay flat on their backs, unconscious.


    Asconce stormed down the halls as the assembled guards nearest him pointed their halberds menacingly towards him. He stopped in front of Longinus, who thought for a moment the short man meant to attack him. He subtly put himself on his guard, but it was unnecessary. Asconce did nothing more than point.


    ¡°I demand this man¡¯s head, Your Grace!¡± he shouted.


    ¡°No,¡± the king replied. ¡°Be satisfied that I will not have you thrown in the dungeon for interrupting this meeting.¡±


    Asconce, remembering where he was and who he was speaking to seemed to come to his senses. ¡°I apologize, Your Grace, I wasn¡¯t told of this meeting.¡± He bowed deeply before his king.


    ¡°Exactly for this reason. Now step away from Lord Longinus and come forward. I will allow you to remain if you do not interrupt again.¡±


    He nodded his head again and walked away from Longinus. Asconce didn¡¯t climb the dais, he noted. Longinus wondered if that was because of a lack of status, or because he wasn¡¯t invited.


    The king gestured to Smyton, who glared at two of the assembled guards closest to the doors and stamped his staff. The guards, realizing what he meant ran over, exited the room, and closed the doors behind them.


    The king turned back to Longinus. ¡°Lord Longinus,¡± he began, ¡°You are to release my son immediately.¡±


    ¡°And mine,¡± Lord Thaed added on.


    He felt the cold chill of fear suddenly. He didn¡¯t know why, there was no need to fear the king. He wouldn¡¯t do anything to Longinus so long as his son was captive. He pushed the fear back down.


    ¡°I am afraid I am unable to do so, Your Grace. He was found trespassing in one of our most holy places. As you know, it is within my rights to execute him for this sacrilege.¡±


    Llarwyn¡¯s knuckles turned white as he made a tight fist. He leaned forward for a moment as though he was going to leap out of his throne and beat Longinus, but he resisted.


    ¡°You would murder my son?¡± the king asked. ¡°That would spell the end to your cult. There would not be a safe place for you in all of Laryndor for you or your followers. Your men would die, not before being tortured, your Star Bases would be burned to the ground, and your faith destroyed. I would spare you, of course, to live out your days in my dungeons as a plaything to my inquisitors.¡±


    By inquisitors, he meant torturers.


    Longinus backed down some. ¡°You misunderstand me, Your Grace. I only meant to say that to do so was within my rights. I don¡¯t want any harm to come to Prince Aeolwyn, but neither can I release him. There must be a punishment for this transgression.¡±


    ¡°What is your suggestion?¡± the king asked.


    ¡°Let him become my ward,¡± Longinus said, knowing Larwyn would never agree to such a thing. ¡°Let him learn about our ways and why his foul deed was so offensive to us.¡±


    ¡°And let him turn into one of your zealots? Impossible.¡±


    He needed a better suggestion, of course, and he had something in mind. Something that would give Child Fraius easy access to him. Something that would make Aeolwyn ripe for assassination. But he couldn¡¯t bring it out just yet. They needed to be at an impasse; a place where his suggestion would seem like a fitting compromise.


    Just a slight bit of magic from the Samahdin school, straight into Lord Smyton¡¯s head would do it. He wouldn¡¯t even know the idea came from him. The question was whether he could manage the spell without them noticing. It was a good thing Jor Bashi, the king¡¯s mage wasn¡¯t in attendance, because he would certainly notice.


    ¡°How about this, and it¡¯s against my better judgement,¡± Llarwyn said, with a strange, creepy sort of smile on his face, ¡°how about you release my son, and in exchange, I will grant you an exemption from your normal city tax levy for a year.¡±


    ¡°And my son!¡± Thaed added. The king glanced at Thaed and then nodded.


    ¡°Quite generous, Your Grace,¡± Lord Smyton said.


    An empty offer. ¡°We are already exempt from those taxes, Your Grace,¡± Longinus said.


    ¡°Then how about I don¡¯t revoke your exemption?¡± Llarwyn retorted.


    ¡°Would you be willing to pay a ransom?¡± Longinus asked.


    ¡°I would,¡± the king responded. ¡°How much would satisfy you?¡±


    Longinus paused, making a show of contemplation. It had to be large enough that Llarwyn would refuse it, but large enough for him to believe Longinus serious.


    ¡°Considering your son¡¯s status, and the nature of the transgressions, I think two hundred thousand pounds of gold would be sufficient.¡±


    ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡± The King shouted.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only reasonable amount. After all, your son did murder one of my devotees.¡±


    ¡°He did?¡± the king asked incredulously. ¡°I would not believe him to have it in him.¡±


    Lord Smyton leaned over, ¡°Of course he does, he is his father¡¯s son, after all.¡±


    Llarwyn smiled and nodded. ¡°He is that,¡± he said. ¡°Still Lord Longinus, that offer is outrageously high. 50 thousand would be too high, but I would be willing to pay that.¡±


    ¡°Regretfully, I cannot budge.¡±


    ¡°Nor I, you impetuous oaf! Guards, seize him!¡± Llarwyn shouted. The two guards nearest Longinus ran over and grabbed him by both arms. Two others came and pointed their halberds at his chest. He was upset and off balance. Now was the time to act.


    ¡°Please, Your Grace, let me have the honor of killing him!¡± Asconce shouted.


    ¡°No!¡± Llarwyn bellowed, standing and reaching for the dagger at his hip.


    In the commotion, he was able to get his spell cast. He saw a faint glow as it settled into Lord Smyton¡¯s head. It settled much too easily. Longinus would have expected the chamberlain to offer up some resistance.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Smyton said, putting himself between the king and Longinus. ¡°This is much too hasty. Executing a man under your roof? He has, by invitation, been extended guest rights. This seems a bit bloodthirsty, and would erode the trust your nobles have placed in you.¡±


    Llarwyn stopped and sheathed his dagger. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right, Smyton. What should we do with him then?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps exile would be a mutually acceptable punishment? We could send the boy to Fort Camulan.¡±


    The king looked at Smyton for a time, then over to Longinus. ¡°That would be acceptable to me. What say you, Lord Longinus?¡±


    ¡°I am amenable to that,¡± he said. Of course he was amenable to it, he was the one who put the idea into Smyton¡¯s head. ¡°As long as you agree to pay your 50-thousand-pound ransom.¡±


    ¡°Done!¡± the king said.


    ¡°What of my son?¡± Thaed added.


    ¡°And mine,¡± Asconce said.


    ¡°The Thaed boy will be exiled with the prince,¡± Longinus said.


    ¡°But only for a year,¡± the king added on. That was fine with Longinus. He didn¡¯t really care what happened to the Thaed boy.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Longinus turned to Asconce. He would have to throw this man a bone if he didn¡¯t want him chasing him all across Laryndor. ¡°I am sorry for your loss, Lord Asconce. I will pay a weregild of ten thousand pounds to your family.¡±


    ¡°Only ten thousand? He was my heir!¡±


    ¡°Make another, Asconce¡± the king grumbled.


    Reluctantly, Asconce nodded. He was not happy with his weregild, having a loftier view of his status within the nobility. He would have to accept it though; Llarwyn was his king, and he had ordered it.


    This had come together perfectly. It was almost worth the insult Llarwyn had done to him with his forcing Longinus to wait, and then endure all that pomp and circumstance. Aeolwyn would be outside of the king¡¯s reach. It was a long journey to Fort Camulan. Fraius would make sure that he was dead before he got there.


    Yet he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Asconce would never be satisfied. He had made an enemy today.

 10: New Orders

    Alaric felt naked without his armor and sword. He was exposed; sort of like being outside in the winter in only your smallclothes. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was being watched and kept looking around to see who was spying on him, but no one was there. He wished he at least had his sword.


    But that was not how it was done in the palace. It was unusual for Lord-General Harmin to request to meet him here, and he was unsure of what that meant. The anxiety of it was nipping at his heels. He had to keep fighting it back to maintain the proper decorum as a soldier.


    The servants had shown him to a large office in the palace¡¯s west wing. He¡¯d walked through a lot of tapestries from old battles to get here. He recognized many of them as ones he had fought in when he was still a young, spry soldier. He was old now; that was probably why the lord-general had summoned him.


    The office had many plush and comfortable chairs, but he chose to stand. He was, after all, a soldier. Whatever was in store for him, he would face it on his feet. Whether he was retired and sent home, or if he was sent back to Fort Camulan, he would face his fate on his feet like a general.


    Why else would they have brought him to the palace, but to retire him? If anything, Harmin should have had the meeting inside the barracks that were just outside the city gates. That was a much more appropriate place to meet. Unless, of course, they were going to send him out to pasture.


    They were probably going to have a ceremony, give him a medal, and a swift kick in the arse to get him moving. They wouldn¡¯t want him sticking around and stinking up the place.


    Promptly at midday Lord-General Harmin entered. He was dressed in the same military doublet Alaric was wearing, only in black, and had the five headed dragon pin that symbolized his office as lord-general. Alaric, only a general had a four headed dragon on his.


    Harmin also had golden braids encircling each arm, fastened to his shoulder by bright red epaulets, and a golden sash starting at the left shoulder that ended at the right hip. Emblazoned on his right breast was the large pin signifying his knighthood. He was knighted into the Royal Order of Dragonfire, the king¡¯s personal order. That meant that he had been knighted by King Llarwyn himself. As a Dragonfire Knight, he was not allowed to wear a badge from any other order.


    Alaric was a knight of the lowly Order of the Claws. Being knighted into the Claws was still a prestigious award, but not as high a rank as a Dragonfire Knight. That was an honor as high as it came.


    Only a small percentage of the standing army were knights. Most were commoners trying to improve their station in life. The kingdom¡¯s knights were members of the aristocracy and only did their duty as members of the standing army as required by the king. The majority of them just hung around with the lord that employed them and participated in jousts.


    They were highly skilled and valuable warriors, but of the two, Alaric preferred the common soldier to the knight. They were hard workers, eager to listen, and most importantly, followed orders. Knights tended to elevate the value of their lives higher than the strategic requirements of the battle. The soldier didn¡¯t second-guess the general¡¯s orders. They trusted him to know what he was doing and did as they were told.


    Alaric stood at attention and gave the lord-general a crisp salute. Harmin brought himself to attention and returned the salute, just as crisp. All the time playing politics didn¡¯t soften his warrior¡¯s hard shell.


    When the salutes were released, Harmin smiled and shook Alaric¡¯s hand. ¡°Welcome to the capital, Alaric,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thank you, lord-general,¡± He replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to stand on formality,¡± Harmin replied. ¡°Call me Torvyn.¡±


    Alaric went to parade rest. ¡°As you say, sir.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if he could bring himself to call the lord-general by his first name. Respecting the chain of command had been drilled into him so hard and so long that he didn¡¯t think it was possible to shake it.


    The lord-general sat in one of the plush chairs, letting out a comfortable sigh as he did so. ¡°Please, sit, Alaric.¡±


    Alaric didn¡¯t move. ¡°I would prefer to stand, sir.¡±


    Harmin shrugged. ¡°As you wish, General.¡± He looked around. ¡°I ordered refreshments to be brought, I see they haven¡¯t arrived yet. I¡¯ll have that remediated when the servant comes. How are things at Fort Camulan?¡±


    ¡°Active,¡± he replied. ¡°The Fenns have been increasing their raids across the border. I have ordered more patrols in response.¡±


    ¡°Any skirmishes?¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± Alaric responded.


    Harmin nodded. He looked Alaric up and down. He wondered if the lord-general was inspecting his uniform for a flaw. Force of habit most likely; he would find no flaw in Alaric¡¯s dress. He always kept himself squared away, and doubly so when his meeting was at the palace.


    ¡°The Fenns have been massing at the border, sir,¡± Alaric continued. ¡°They haven¡¯t had a consistent presence there in some time. I fear they are planning something.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Harmin replied. ¡°What have you done in response?¡±


    ¡°Besides increasing patrols? I¡¯ve sent scouts to watch their movements and have staffed the signal towers. The scouts are instructed to light the fires at any sign of invasion. The scouts are rotated weekly, staggering their time so that I am always getting fresh reports on their movements.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. You always were an exception general, Alaric.¡±


    The lord-general ceased his questions and remained silent. He looked around the room at the various decorations, vases, a few landscape paintings, and a red rug. He tapped his foot impatiently. The lord-general seemed to be waiting for something.


    Alaric started to become uncomfortable with the silence. He desperately wanted to fill it with conversation, but he had nothing to say, and protocol looked down on an officer of lower rank making small talk with a superior officer. His eyes wanted to follow the lord-general¡¯s gaze, but he resisted. Instead, he kept staring straight ahead.


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    The door to the office opened and a highborn man entered. He was well dressed in the king¡¯s livery. Alaric first thought he was the servant Harmin was waiting for, except that he was carrying an ornate staff.


    He left the door open and stood beside it, standing as tall as he could. He banged the staff on the floor and shouted, ¡°The King!¡±


    Before Alaric could even process what the man had just said, two men entered. One, dressed in a red fur-lined cloak, and an elaborately embroidered doublet that struggled to hold back his girth. Atop his head was a golden crown. It was King Llarwyn!


    With the entrance of the sovereign, he barely noticed the younger, smaller man that followed in on his heels. He had a gold circlet around his head, and was finely dressed, though not as elaborately as the king was.


    Alaric immediately went to one knee and bowed his head. ¡°Your Grace,¡± he said. He kept his head bowed. He wasn¡¯t sure what the rules of behavior were around the king. He had never met him before.


    There was only one reason the king would come to a meeting between an old general and his superior. They really were going to retire him. A lump formed in his throat, and he fought back the tears that were starting to form around his eyes.


    He loved his men, he loved Fort Camulan, and most importantly, he loved being a soldier. What would he do if he was retired? He had no hobbies. Sure, he dreamed of the simple life of a farmer like all soldiers did, but he didn¡¯t actually want them to come true.


    The king stood before him and held out his hand. Alaric grabbed it and kissed it. The king pulled his hand away as though burned. That¡¯s what he was supposed to do, right? What did he do wrong?


    ¡°Rise, General Alaric,¡± he said.


    Alaric did as he was bid. ¡°I am sorry if I offended you, Your Grace. That was not my intention.¡±


    The king chuckled. ¡°Fear not, general, you did no such thing. Just remember I am not a fair maiden swooning over a knight.¡±


    He gestured to the younger man behind him. ¡°My son and heir, Prince Alfyn.¡±


    The prince-heir also? Why were they making such a fuss over him. This was much more honor than he deserved. If he was being put out to pasture, he would rather have had the lord-general tell him and be done with it. There was no need for all this formality.


    He bowed deeply. ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said.


    The king gestured to a seat. ¡°Please sit, general.¡±


    ¡°I would prefer to stand, Your Grace.¡±


    The king fixed him with a stare. It immediately became clear that this was an order and not an invitation. Before his brain had completely registered the look, his body was already in motion. He sat in one of the overly comfortable chairs next to the lord-general. He sat up straight in the chair. He was afraid that he would sink into it and disappear if he sat back.


    It was much too soft and comfortable. He preferred the stout wooden chairs back in Fort Camulan. They were hard chairs for hard men. This was a soft chair meant for soft men. Alaric was not a soft man.


    ¡°I have been eagerly awaiting this meeting, general. I have heard glorious tales of your battles with the Fenns in service to me,¡± the king said.


    Alaric found his hand going to his chest. ¡°Not as honored as I, Your Grace.¡±


    The king smiled. ¡°I have reviewed the records that Lord-General Harmin provided to me. Your service has been exemplary. Not a single misstep among them; your valor is well known among your men, and frequently rewarded by the lord-general. Why, you even have the Badge of the Realm. Why do you not wear it?¡±


    ¡°I am not one to show off, Lord King.¡± Alaric said.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± the king said. He leaned forward. ¡°And what of your loyalty, general? Is it as never-ending as your valor?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, Your Grace.¡± That was a strange question to ask. He had proven his loyalty a hundred times. He could have turned and fled in any of the skirmishes he had fought in, yet he didn¡¯t; not even the ones they lost.


    ¡°What His Grace is asking is whether you¡¯d do anything for the Crown,¡± Harmin put in.


    Why would they ask such a thing? Of course he was loyal. The lord-general had given him everything he had, everything he was. How could his loyalty be in question. Perhaps they had decided to give him a lordship to go along with his retirement?


    ¡°I am not sure why you are asking this, and appear to be dancing around my question, which any old general recalled to the capital would have. Your Grace, am I to be retired?¡±


    The king fixed Lord-General Harmin with a stare. ¡°I told you he would ask this, Harmin.¡±


    Harmin nodded. He reached out and patted Alaric on the back, in the same sort of way you might pat a child whose dog had just died. ¡°And you were right, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not being retired, General Alaric,¡± the king said. Relief flooded through him. What then? Was he being reassigned? He didn¡¯t care. Even if he loved commanding Fort Camulan, he would take any assignment. He would run a school if that was asked of him.


    ¡°I truly just brought you here to speak on intelligence and tactics on regards to the Fenns, General, which we will speak more of later. It just so happened that your arrival today has become¡­,¡± Harmin paused, looking towards the sky for the right word, ¡°fortuitous.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    The king looked troubled for a moment and glanced at Alfyn. The prince couldn¡¯t keep the king¡¯s eye. He put his head down, face red with shame.


    ¡°My son has gotten himself into trouble. In response, we have agreed to exile him into your care.¡±


    The crown prince? ¡°Your highness! This is a terrible tragedy. Trust that I will give you the best guards and ensure your upmost comfort and care.¡±


    ¡°Not him,¡± the king said, ¡°my youngest, Aeolwyn. You will take him on as a soldier in your company.¡±


    ¡°Aeolwyn? Isn¡¯t he only 12? That¡¯s too young!¡± Alaric protested.


    ¡°That is my judgement to make,¡± the king lectured. ¡°He will never be king, and I¡¯ll be damned if he turns out as lazy as the other two. He needs to learn the ways of a soldier and a commander. You are to teach him both.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he studying with Sir Jom, Your Grace?¡± Alaric asked. This was a huge responsibility. He wished he could refuse it, but it was an order that came straight from the king. There was no way he could. The king would have his head if he did.


    ¡°Yes, and now he will study with you. He made his mistake and must live with the consequences. I want him to have combat experience before winter sets in.¡±


    ¡°But your grace! Without proper training, he could be killed!¡± Winter was only a few months away. There was no way he would have enough time to train him to be a proper soldier, no matter how long he had been studying with Sir Jom.


    The king said nothing. He just folded his hands and arched a single eyebrow.


    ¡°Are you refusing a direct order from your king, general?¡± Harmin asked.


    ¡°No, lord-general, of course not. When do we leave?¡±


    ¡°Day after tomorrow,¡± the king said, ¡°he will be delivered at dawn.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Alaric said. ¡°May I know what he did?¡±


    Alfyn chuckled. ¡°He broke into the Star Children¡¯s fortress and killed a man.¡±


    Alaric gasped. ¡°Aeolwyn did that?¡± How? He was only a boy. Why? What would come over him to do such a thing? He must have been put up to it by someone. That was the only explanation that made sense.


    ¡°He¡¯s my boy alright,¡± the king said.


    This was all very strange. Exile seemed an extreme punishment for such a crime. It might suit someone of lower station, but a prince? The king should have just paid a wergild and been done with it.


    Unless someone wanted him dead? It was a long journey to Fort Camulan. There were many places where the caravan would be exposed. An assassin could even hide among the soldiers and other members of the retinue. Perhaps he should put him under special protection.


    He would already have protection, no doubt. The king wouldn¡¯t send his son away without some of his own personal guards. But perhaps Alaric should reinforce that with some of his own men. Men he could trust.


    ¡°Very good,¡± the king said. He stood and turned to leave; everyone else stood as he did. He turned to leave, paused a moment and turned back. ¡°Oh yes, one other thing. Egnever Thaed will also be accompanying Aeolwyn. Take special care of him. Lord Kaorc would be very upset if he were to be killed.


    Another lord? This was getting more and more unusual. Strange that it was Egnever though. He was much older than Aeolwyn. If his memory served him, he was the crown prince¡¯s age.


    ¡°As you command, Your Grace,¡± Alaric said, bowing.


    The king left. His son and the lord chamberlain left with him, shutting the door behind them.


    ¡°Come, Alaric. Let¡¯s eat,¡± Lord-General Harmin said.


    This was all very unusual. His instincts told him there was more to this than what he had been told. He would have to be very careful. If something happened to Aeolwyn under his command, it would be his head on a pike, not the lord-general¡¯s.

 11: A Boy, Exiled

    Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know how relieved he was to be back home until the carriage pulled up to the palace¡¯s gates. The lovely stucco and brick walls. The leaded windows, and the cobblestone road they came in on felt safe.


    It had only been a week he had been in the Star Children¡¯s prison, but it felt longer. He felt like he was a different person and he was finally returning home after an extended absence. Though the walls felt warm and safe, there was something uncomfortably unfamiliar about them.


    After the first few days, he was thankfully given better accommodation. A room more befitting a person of his stature. Lord Longinus visited him only once, after he had moved to say that he had met with Aeolwyn¡¯s father, and they had come to an agreement. They just needed time to hash out the details before his release.


    He was not told what those details were, nor was he told when he would be released. A guard just showed up with his food on the last day, watched him eat it like he always did, and then took him with him when he left.


    They stuffed him in the carriage and off he went.


    All in all, once he was able to handle his fear, his treatment hadn¡¯t been all that bad. The food, while not great, was adequate, and once he was out of the cell, he had a garderobe instead of a chamberpot. There were still no windows to speak of, and the smell was pretty bad, but it wasn¡¯t horrid like the cell had been.


    And there was light. Blessed, glorious natural light. Those first few days in the darkness were soul-sucking. He thought he was going mad. He wanted to die. He nearly started banging his head into the brick until his brains spilled out. Both as an escape from the misery and to punish his captors. When it became clear that they weren¡¯t going to kill him, he figured that if he were to die in their custody, his father would destroy the whole godforsaken place.


    It was all behind him now that he was free. He wondered what happened to Egnever. He hadn¡¯t seen or heard from his brother¡¯s friend since he had been taken up to see Longinus after he killed the guard. He hoped he was freed too. That prison cell was fit for no man. When he was in there, he swore to himself that if he got out,  he would destroy it one day. A promise he intended to keep.


    Lord Smyton, the man he specifically didn¡¯t want to see when he snuck out met him at the large double doors that served as the entrance to the palace. He was dressed in his black formal tunic. That wasn¡¯t good. He usually dressed in a lighter-colored coat for day-to-day work. The fact that he was dressed more formally meant official duties, and considering this was the day Aeolwyn was being received home finally meant he was the official duty.


    All he wanted was a bath and his bed.


    Only one of those came true. Lord Smyton took him straight to the baths and had the servants scrub him from head to toe. To get the Children¡¯s ick off was how he phrased it. He didn¡¯t enjoy it one bit. He was old enough to wash himself, and didn¡¯t appreciate all the servants who had come and saw him naked. It was shameful.


    Once he was bathed, he was dressed in fresh clothes of a similar green that he had been wearing when he snuck out. He still wanted his bed, but he couldn¡¯t deny how good it felt to be in clean clothes after spending an entire week in the old ones.


    Smyton had those clothes burned. He claimed they were too soiled to be cleaned properly. He was sad. He liked those clothes. They fit comfortably, and the boots were well broken in. He couldn¡¯t argue with his father¡¯s chamberlain however, so to the firepit they went.


    After that, he took Aeolwyn to the Lord¡¯s Hall, where his father¡¯s privy council met. He had rarely been in this room. He wasn¡¯t allowed in council meetings and the room was locked most other times. He had only visited it when his father decided to show it to him.


    It was close to a bluff with large windows that overlooked the entire city; Aeolwyn didn¡¯t get too close to the windows. His father threw people out that window when they displeased him, so it was best not to tempt fate, no matter how good the view was.


    The large table in the center of the room was polished to a bright shine and inlaid with an intricate pattern in a darker colored wood that contrasted with the lighter color of the rest of the table. It had stout, ornately carved legs that resembled dragon¡¯s feet, or so he was told. He¡¯d never seen a dragon in real life and wasn¡¯t sure that they actually existed.


    His father arrived a short time later, without Lord Smyton. Aeolwyn stood up and bowed anyway. His father looked both furious and relieved to see him alive. Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t help it, he broke into a run and embraced his father as tightly as he could.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, papa! I didn¡¯t mean to make all this trouble,¡± he cried. He couldn¡¯t help it. His father detested a crying man, and Aeolwyn was blubbering. The tears spilled out of his eyes so fast that he was afraid he would stain his father¡¯s nice doublet.


    ¡°Get a hold of yourself, son,¡± his father admonished, but hugged him back so tightly Aeolwyn could scarcely breathe.


    ¡°Now sit down,¡± his father said. He released the embrace and gestured to a chair. Aeolwyn hurriedly sat, wiping the tears from his eyes as best he could.


    ¡°Have you been in this room before, son?¡±


    Aeolwyn nodded, not trusting his voice yet. He wasn¡¯t sure if his father, who had been in this room thousands of times, would remember when he¡¯d brought Aeolwyn here. They¡¯d sat in the big chair on the end, where his father now sat, young Aeolwyn on his knee.


    His father looked around wistfully. ¡°Many important decisions have been made in this room. Decisions that have affected thousands of lives, including yours. This is hallowed ground. I want you to understand that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, father,¡± Aeolwyn replied weakly. He wondered if the negotiations to free him happened here. Probably. Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t imagine where else they would have taken place. In the throne room? That would have been a laugh. The throne room was only for official visits and the days commoners petitioned the king for redress from other¡¯s crimes.


    ¡°Now, I want you to know, son that I¡¯m not angry at you for sneaking into the Star Children¡¯s temple, But I need to know some things, and I am ordering you to be completely honest.¡±


    ¡°Yes, father,¡± he said. He wasn¡¯t sure how completely honest he could be with his father. He had sworn the Laryn Oath to his brother. He couldn¡¯t break it; he would condemn his soul if he did.


    ¡°First, I want to know why.¡±


    Aeolwyn shrugged. He supposed this was an easy one as long as he kept his brother out of it. He could skirt very close to the whole truth without breaking his oath.


    ¡°I heard that the Star Children were going behind your back and talking to the nobles, and I wanted to find out why.¡±


    His father smiled. ¡°That¡¯s very noble of you Aeolwyn, but I can handle my own business. You¡¯re not ever going to be king, so you should stay out of politics. They¡¯ll just get in your way as a soldier.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± He had seen the way the lord-general handled things around his father, and he was as political as they came. If he understood it right, the soldiers did the fighting and the generals did the planning, but the lord-general did the politicking. If he was going to be the general of all his brother¡¯s armies, he would need to learn to be deft with politics.


    ¡°Being a soldier means to do as you¡¯re told. Playing politics is a dirty way of avoiding your duty.¡±


    He still didn¡¯t understand what his father was trying to say. He would never avoid his duty. He got the feeling that the king was just trying to get him to be a good soldier, which he already knew he would be.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he said, even though he didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t want to argue with his father about it.


    ¡°Good. Now how did you get out of the palace? You are under specific instructions not to leave without me or your mother, and especially not without an escort. The guards and servants have been told this. Who did you bribe to get you out?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t bribe anyone. I just snuck out.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± his father demanded. He knew Aeolwyn was avoiding a direct answer, and it was getting his anger up. One thing he didn¡¯t want to do was anger his father right now. That was a good way to increase whatever punishment he was ultimately going to get; because he knew he was definitely going to get punished by the end of this conversation.


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    ¡°I disguised myself as a servant and used their corridors to get out,¡± he said sheepishly.


    His father actually smiled. He thought he would be furious. ¡°Clever,¡± he said. ¡°That explains the discarded clothes the guards found outside the gates. They were worried one of the women servants was abducted after she was seen struggling with a larger, drunk, male servant.¡±


    ¡°That was me, father. He was trying to drag me to a bar. I couldn¡¯t get out of his grip so I tripped both of us and got away when we fell.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that sort of quick thinking that will make you a good commander one day, son. Now, don¡¯t avoid the more important of the two questions. Who put you up to this? You can¡¯t have thought it up on your own. Was it Ulfnar?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t say. He had made the Laryn Oath. He couldn¡¯t lie and get Ulfnar in trouble either. He also didn¡¯t want to lie in front of his father, but he had no choice.


    ¡°No one, father. It was my own idea-¡°


    ¡°DON¡¯T LIE TO ME BOY!¡± his father roared. He leaped out of his chair and knelt down directly in front of Aeolwyn. He pressed himself as far back in his chair as he could to put some distance between him and his raging father.


    ¡°So help me, I will call the execution right now and send you to the gallows. No noble beheading, you¡¯ll suffer a commoner¡¯s death for lying to your father AND lying to the king!¡±


    Aeolwyn wilted before his father¡¯s onslaught. The further he moved back the closer his father got until there was nowhere left to go. He caved. He had to. The power of his oath was nothing compared to the power of his father when his anger was up, so he did the only thing he could do.


    He broke the Laryn Oath and condemned his soul.


    ¡°Alfyn,¡± he said. ¡°Alfyn told me to do it. He was there! He brought his friends, and we climbed over the walls. And when we got caught, he vanished. He escaped and left me and his friends for the Star Children!¡±


    His father said nothing. He just stepped back and sat down. He chewed on his lip for a while, lost in thought, eyes darting back and forth between Aeolwyn and the windows. Occasionally, he would take a quick breath in as if to speak but remained silent.


    Aeolwyn started to get uncomfortable. Was he free to go? He didn¡¯t think so. Every time he sat up as though he might think about getting out of the chair, his father¡¯s eyes would dart back to him, and he would sit back again. Definitely not free to go.


    Finally, he spoke. ¡°I will deal with Alfyn later,¡± he said. Then he let out a deep sigh. His face contorted into an expression of pain for a moment, and then settled down.


    ¡°You understand the gravity of what you¡¯ve done son?¡±


    Aeolwyn nodded. ¡°The Star Children said it was in their rights to execute me,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Yes, a fact that they made sure to remind me of on every occasion. Is it true you killed one of them?¡±


    Aeolwyn shrunk again. ¡°Yes father, but it wasn¡¯t my fault! He took me out of my cell and was going to¡­do things to me. I couldn¡¯t let that happen. I don¡¯t know if he was going to hurt me or something else. I tried to stop him, and he attacked me. All I could do was defend myself.¡±


    His father put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Easy, son. I am not mad at you for that. In fact, I am quite proud of you for standing your ground and protecting our good name.¡±


    Aeolwyn was pleased. It was rare to hear his father say that he was proud of him. He wished he had heard it more; making his father proud of him was the only thing he wanted.


    ¡°That¡¯s what makes the rest of this so hard.¡±


    Aeolwyn¡¯s stomach churned. He was to be punished, and whatever it was, it was going to be severe. A severe enough penalty that his father looked to be on the verge of tears about it. He wouldn¡¯t cry, of course, it was unsightly for the king to do so.


    When his father got a hold of himself, he spoke, ¡°Son,¡± he started, ¡°I can¡¯t say this in any way but this: You are to be exiled from the capital. That was the only thing the Star Children would agree on to secure your release.¡±


    Exiled? But he was only 12! Where would he go? Who would take care of him? Surely his father wouldn¡¯t throw him out of the gates with only his skin to keep him company! There were wolves out there, and worse. He had heard stories of goblins, reanimated skeletons, and things even more dreadful. He couldn¡¯t survive on his own! He couldn¡¯t fight the fear welling up in him.


    ¡°Since General Alaric is here, I have made arrangements for you to join his company. You will be under his command and travel with him to Fort Camulan. Once there, you will follow his instructions and train as a soldier.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t believe it. This was everything he wanted. He was going to a fort on the frontier and be a real soldier. Suddenly his fear mixed with a new emotion: excitement. He was going to fight the Fenns, just like he had when he played with the board he and Sir Jom used.


    His father stood. Instinctively he rose as well. His father put his hand on his shoulder again. ¡°You are ready for this Aeolwyn. Now pack your things and go make your old father proud.¡±


    ***


    The bar was called Brigadoon¡¯s Arms. Its biggest selling point was that it was much too far out of the way for someone of Alfyn¡¯s class to patronize, and so, no one would expect him to ever be here. He, of course, didn¡¯t dress like Prince Alfyn, the heir to the throne. No, he dressed as Aylonzo, a brigand and mercenary from the south of Camulan looking for work.


    He had chosen to meet her here because of its remoteness and its reputation for being discreet. Exactly the kind of place where you didn¡¯t want to be recognized and didn¡¯t want anyone to know your business. Being nosy here could and probably would get you killed.


    Brigadoon¡¯s Arms was down an alley that was dark even in the daytime. At night, it was nearly pitch black. Inside wasn¡¯t much better. A hazy smoke permeated the dimly lit room from the dirty oil lamps and torches they used for light. The darkness prevented all but the most astute patrons from being able to recognize the features of anyone, even those they shared the table with.


    Alfyn was seated in the corner, his back to the wall so he could face the door. The barkeep had brought him a watered-down lager that tasted vaguely of piss. He didn¡¯t drink it after his first sip. He just didn¡¯t want to look out of place, and a man without a drink would definitely look out of place.


    He kept his hood up. His face was much too clean and smooth for a place like this. Most of the dirt-covered faces had deep lines from baking in the sun day after day. If anyone dared to peek past his hood, his identity as a member of the upper class would be readily apparent.


    Reiva entered a short time later. She wore a leather doublet and trousers that had both been dyed black. Over this she had a billowy cloak that hid her shape. Like most patrons, himself included, her cloak¡¯s hood was up. He only recognized her by the jet-black skin. Or, more accurately, he only recognized her because he couldn¡¯t make out a face at all underneath her hood. The darkness of the room made her features invisible.


    He made a quick hand gesture when she caught his eye, using the previously agreed upon signal. She sauntered over with the grace of a cat stalking her prey.


    It was only when she was at the table did he see the two ornate daggers on her hips. She appeared to carry no other weapons. Most here were brutish about how they displayed their armaments. It was the only way they could shout out to the group ¡®don¡¯t mess with me, I¡¯m dangerous!¡¯ Reiva needed no such warning, and that made her seem even more dangerous.


    She sat down without an invitation. He pushed a second cup of beer over to her. She took it, glanced inside, took a sip, and then promptly spat it out, spraying it in a fine mist all over the table.


    ¡°Tastes like piss,¡± she said.


    He laughed. ¡°Indeed it does,¡± he said.


    ¡°And you still let me drink it?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be the only one with piss breath.¡±


    She chuckled and slammed the cup back down on the table, then wiped her mouth with her arm, all without breaking eye contact. It was strangely alluring, and he found himself wondering what a night with her would be like. He almost considered suggesting it.


    ¡°What can I do for you Aylonzo?¡± She made sure to emphasize the name he was using to hide his actual identity. He couldn¡¯t tell if she was mocking him for using it, or just indicating that she knew it was a fake name.


    She handed him a crumpled note. He took it and looked at it. It was the note he had sent her.


    We need to meet urgently. I will be at Brigadoon¡¯s Arms at midnight. Call me Aylonzo, it said.


    It bore no other markings or identifying information. The servant who delivered it to her told her who it was from.


    ¡°I have a job for you,¡± he said. He held the note up to the candle set between them until it caught fire. He set it down on the table, watching it burn.


    ¡°I thought your father didn¡¯t trust me,¡± she said.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t. But if you do this job quickly and discreetly, that will go a very long way into gaining that trust and getting into his good graces.¡± He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a heavy purse, which he tossed on the table. It landed with a loud thud. ¡°It also pays very well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m interested.¡± She reached out to grab the purse.


    He grabbed her hand before she could pull the purse away. Her other hand reached for a dagger. He ignored it. ¡°This job requires the utmost discretion.¡±


    ¡°I can be very discreet,¡± she said, hand still on her dagger.


    He tightened the grip on her hand. In response, her dagger came slightly out of its sheath, showing the tiniest bit of steel. Seeing how serious she was, made him a little nervous, but excited him as well. He almost dared her to use it.


    ¡°No one can know,¡± he said. ¡°Not Lord-General Harmin, not any of my father¡¯s council, you can¡¯t even mention it to my father himself.¡±


    ¡°Sounds dangerous,¡± she said. ¡°I like it. I agree to those terms.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not enough,¡± he said. ¡°Swear it.¡±


    ¡°I swear,¡± she said. ¡°Do you want the Laryn Oath as well?¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Alfyn said. He released her hand, and she took the purse. It disappeared into her cloak.


    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡±


    ¡°My brother is leaving on a caravan tomorrow headed to Fort Camulan. I want you to follow it, and when the time is right, kill him. Leave no trace. Make it look like an accident.¡±


    She stared at him for so long he began to feel uncomfortable. Was she going to leave and tell his father? She would have a surprise waiting for her if she did.


    ¡°Fratricide and regicide? Interesting.¡± She paused. ¡°Very well. You will get a note before the caravan reaches its destination. There¡¯s plenty of excellent spots along the Camulan Road.¡±


    Without another word, she gracefully got out of the chair and sauntered out. He wondered if she had meant to tease him. Perhaps he should have had a romp with her. He had never been with a woman of her color before, nor one of her profession. It would be interesting to say the least.


    Maybe not. Best to never mix business with pleasure.


    After she left, he waved his arm towards a man at a table on the other side of the room. Like most people here he was dressed in dark clothing and had a hood up. A scarred, sunbaked face peeked through the hood. He stood, and walking with a pronounced limp that Alfyn was sure was fake, came over and bending down, he put his face close to Alfyn¡¯s.


    ¡°Follow her,¡± Alfyn commanded. ¡°If she looks to betray me, kill her.¡±


    ¡°As you wish,¡± the man¡¯s raspy voice replied.


    ¡°When she¡¯s finished her task, kill her.¡±


    The man nodded and limped his way out of the bar.

 12: Leaving Home

    Part II: The Camulan Road


    The palace was a flurry of activity. Its normally quiet and cleanly paved carriageway was filled with soldiers, horses, dirt, and shit. Servants scurried about, carrying supplies to wagons, attended to the needs of the assembled group. They did their best to keep the horse manure from getting under a noble¡¯s boot.


    The soldiers had large packs slung on their backs, though a few had eased their burden by setting the pack down and resting against it. Those soldiers who were lucky enough to be members of the cavalry had no such issue. If their mount didn¡¯t carry their burden, they made sure to stow it on one of the wagons that would be following behind.


    The palace was a quiet refuge compared to the activities outside. More servants than usual were running about, but it still felt like a place of peace. Aeolwyn stood at the main gate watching the activity. Though most would just see a cacophony of activity, he saw a delicately planned dance. Each person had a specific task they were performing, and it blended with the tasks others¡¯ tasks to create a beautiful symphony.


    The day had come. Today was Aeolwyn¡¯s first day as a soldier. He had a uniform and everything. Well, not an official uniform yet. He wouldn¡¯t get that until he was settled in Fort Camulan. Instead, his father made him put on his dressiest tunic and woolen trousers, complete with the family¡¯s dragon sigil and a sash made of the family colors.


    He strode out into the courtyard as proud as a peacock. The servants all stopped and bowed to him, something they normally didn¡¯t do when they saw him. They usually just lowered their eyes and scurried on to their destinations.


    In the courtyard was a massive assembly of horses, soldiers, carriages, and carts. Some of the soldiers wore simple arming doublet, while others wore chainmail or plate armor covered with a brown tabard and sigil the Kingdom of Camulan. The kingdom¡¯s sigil was different from the royal sigil; it bore a fish and bear being protected under the wings of his father¡¯s rearing dragon.


    His father stood beside a tall old man in a plate cuirass, a helmet tucked under one arm. The gold braid on his shoulder told Aeolwyn all he needed to know. This was General Alaric, Aeolwyn¡¯s commanding officer. He walked up to the general and bowed his head.


    ¡°Greetings, General Alaric, Prince Aeolwyn reporting for duty.¡± He thought that sounded smart.


    The general scowled at him. ¡°Don¡¯t get smart, boy,¡± he said. ¡°And don¡¯t expect any kind of privileged treatment like you¡¯re used to. You¡¯re a regular soldier and will be expected to act as such. You¡¯re not getting the comfort of a carriage, unless you¡¯re too injured to ride. Say your goodbyes and mount your horse. We¡¯re leaving within the hour.¡±


    But he was a stern one. Aeolwyn tried not to laugh. He wasn¡¯t sure why he found it funny. Maybe because it still seemed too much of a game to be real. Anyway, he was used to rough treatment; Sir Jom had been harsh with Aeolwyn nearly every day.


    His father smiled at him and gestured for him to step forward. The general bowed at his king and took his leave. Aeolwyn took a step and bowed his head. ¡°I am ready, father,¡± he said.


    Just then, his mother arrived, leading a large piebald warhorse. He didn¡¯t know she had returned from her trip to Freemoth. Her father had died, and she had left a month ago to attend his funeral. They hadn¡¯t expected her back for another month.


    She handed Aeolwyn the reins and gave him a very tight hug. He hugged her back so tight he could feel her ribs underneath her dress. She hadn¡¯t been eating again. That was something she did when she was sad.


    ¡°You be careful, my boy,¡± she admonished.


    She released her hug and turned to his father. Instead of curtsying to him, she scowled and slapped him across the face. His face darkened and Aeolwyn saw the king¡¯s hand twitch. His instinct had been to slap her back.


    ¡°How could you?¡± she asked. ¡°This is our boy! Our prince! And you¡¯re sending him off to war?¡±


    ¡°Wife,¡± he started, face already reddening from the slap, ¡°under the circumst¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll not hear it!¡± she cut him off before he finished. ¡°You traded our boy for what? Some childish prank? That is unforgiveable!¡±


    She stormed away, hiding the tears on her face with her hands. He started to walk after her, but stopped, realizing all the eyes in the courtyard were on him. She headed up the stairs and disappeared into the palace.


    His twin brothers, Wolfryn and Ulfnar were next. They both patted him on the shoulders and smiled. Wolfryn had an ornately decorated sword in a plain scabbard. He reached around and buckled the sword around Aeolwyn¡¯s waist.


    ¡°No brother of mine is going out in the world without the finest Camulan Steel. Take care of yourself Aeolwyn,¡± Wolfryn said. A single tear trailed down his cheek. He wiped it away before more came.


    Ulfnar pulled Aeolwyn¡¯s left sleeve up and fastened a thin-bladed dagger to his wrist before pulling the sleeve back down. The blade felt tight and uncomfortable against his skin.


    ¡°Never go out unarmed, brother. You never know where danger lurks.¡± He wrapped Aeolwyn in a bear hug. Ulfnar always gave the best hugs.


    A tall thin man pushed Ulfnar aside. His brother¡¯s hand went to his own wrist before he recognized who it was, then relaxed and stepped back. It was Egnever Thaed, his brother¡¯s friend who was prisoner with him.


    ¡°I am exiled, thanks to you!¡± He shouted. ¡°Exiled!¡±


    ¡°Mind your words, boy,¡± Aeolwyn¡¯s father said to Egnever.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± was all that Aeolwyn could muster out. He knew it was a weak apology, but he hadn¡¯t been expecting him to come towards him yelling.


    Egnever towered over Aeolwyn and leaned forward enough that Aeolwyn wanted to step back. He saw Ulfnar behind him reaching for his knife again. Aeolwyn tried to stand tall against the onslaught of rage. Egnever wouldn¡¯t dare strike the king¡¯s son right in front of him, and even if he did, Aeolwyn could take it. Even though his own instincts were telling him to cower and run, the prince stood as tall as he could and stared up at Egnever.


    ¡°I bear no responsibility for your choices, Egnever. You chose to be there. In fact, I saved your life! The Star Children would have executed you!¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Egenever said, though his rage seemed to be fizzling. ¡°You killed that guard, and they wanted to take revenge out on me. I have scars from what they did.¡±


    Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t going to be bullied by him. He clenched his fist and stepped forward. ¡°I was protecting myself from them. Maybe if you did the same you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thaed!¡± A voice shouted. ¡°In formation!¡± That had to belong to General Alaric.


    Egnever turned and stormed away. He didn¡¯t even acknowledge Alfyn or the king. Aeolwyn understood what Alfyn had done to get him in this mess, but what had he or his father done to deserve his anger?


    ¡°What¡¯d you do to him Aeolwyn?¡± Ulfnar asked.


    ¡°Yeah, keep an eye on him out there. There¡¯s no telling what he¡¯ll do to you,¡± Wolfryn added.


    They both came forward again and hugged him. ¡°You¡¯ll probably be taller than me when we meet again,¡± Ulfnar said.


    ¡°And sneakier,¡± Wolfryn said. He patted Aeolwyn on his shoulder. ¡°Take care of yourself.¡±


    ¡°Bye.¡± He couldn¡¯t believe that he wasn¡¯t going to see them again for a long time, if ever. His father had not given a timeline of when his exile of Camulan would end. If they didn¡¯t come out to visit him, how would he see them?


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    The twins had barely stepped away before his sister Filliya ran between them and launched herself at him. He staggered back under her weight but held firm. It helped that she was just about the same weight as he was despite being a few years older. She was usually quiet and shy, and wasn¡¯t fond of hugs, so he wasn¡¯t sure why she had jumped into his arms.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you, Yowyn,¡± she sobbed into his ear. When he was born, she couldn¡¯t pronounce his name, so she just called him Yowyn, even as they got older. For a while he tried to get her to say it right, it¡¯s pronounced ALE-win, he would say. She would say it right, but it never stuck. Now he was glad.


    ¡°Me too,¡± he said, putting her down. Of all his siblings, she was the closest to him in age. They had often played together when he was little, until she was too old to play with toys anymore. He missed those days, even if it meant playing girl games.


    She shoved a leather pouch into his chest as soon as she was back on her own feet hard enough that it felt like a punch to the gut, though this whole day felt like that. He opened the pouch and pulled out a silver chain with a dirty red ruby at its end. He wasn¡¯t one for jewelry, but this looked like she had pulled it straight out of the dirt.


    ¡°Filli, I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± he said, using his childhood name for her. He honestly didn¡¯t. Was this a gift, or was she just trying to get rid of her trash?


    She took the chain from him and put the amulet around his neck.


    ¡°It¡¯s for protection,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t ever take it off. Not ever!¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure what a necklace could do better than a solid piece of armor, but he obliged her. ¡°I won¡¯t. I promise.¡±


    She smiled and hurried away, hiding behind Ulfnar. He didn¡¯t know why she felt safe with him. Wolfryn was the stronger of the two, and a better swordsman. If Aeolwyn needed to go to someone for protection, it would be Wolfryn.


    Alfyn and Davinya stood side by side, between him and his father, who was holding the reins of the horse his mother had brought. They were holding hands, but Aeolwyn noticed that Alfyn seemed to be tightly squeezing her hand.


    Her body was tense, as if she would have run away if not for Alfyn¡¯s hold on her hand. She reached out to him with her free hand and rubbed his chest, the only thing in reach of her. He stepped forward and gave her a hug.


    ¡°Please be safe,¡± she said.


    Alfyn just patted him on the back. ¡°Good luck, brother,¡± he said as he pulled their sister away.


    He was glad Alfyn didn¡¯t stay long. His brother had gotten Aeolwyn into this mess and he didn¡¯t know what to say. He had a lot of conflicting feelings. He wanted to gloat that he¡¯d killed a man and he was sure Alfyn hadn¡¯t. He wanted his brother to acknowledge that he was as brave as the crown prince. But he also had to fight back the urge to pull out Ulfnar¡¯s dagger and plunge it into his brother¡¯s heart. Alfyn¡¯s little prank had upended his entire life.


    His father was the last one left. He smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Did Aeolwyn see some gray at his temples? He hadn¡¯t noticed it before. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. No, he wasn¡¯t mistaken, he definitely saw gray at his father¡¯s temples.  When had that happened? Was it something Aeolwyn caused?


    His father held the reins to the piebald horse his mother had given him. The king slowly walked the horse over to his son. He stood for a moment, regarding his boy. Then he spoke.


    ¡°A hero¡¯s horse needs a good name, son. Something that will sound good alongside yours in the stories.¡±


    Of all things to say, why had his father said that? Why wouldn¡¯t he say he loved Aeolwyn before saying goodbye? His father wasn¡¯t one to show strong emotions, especially not one that would suggest weakness. Expressing love was a weakness in his father¡¯s eyes, especially in public.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know father, what is a good name?¡±


    ¡°Something strong,¡± the king replied. ¡°Something that will strike fear in the hearts of your foes, and that your friends will pray to see.¡±


    ¡°I think I will call him Sefalus,¡± he said. Sefalus was the horse of a legendary hero from the myths his elven nanny would tell him. Lexin the conqueror rode Sefalus during his conquest of the magical land of Gracz.


    ¡°A fine name, son,¡± his father said, handing the reins over to him.


    The king waved to a servant who brought a chest that he laid at his feet, then scurried away. His father bent over, opened the chest and pulled out a thick metal shirt made of thousands of interlocking rings.


    ¡°A chainmail hauberk,¡± his father said. ¡°Every hero needs protection.¡±


    Aeolwyn took it and nearly dropped it. It was heavy. How did soldiers wear armor like this all day? He wasn¡¯t strong enough yet. He was sure that General Alaric would see to that. If he were staying here Sir Jom would.


    ¡°Let me just take that,¡± his father said. He took the chainmail shirt and stuffed it into Sefalus¡¯ saddlebag. When it was secured, he went back to the chest and pulled out a ornately engraved silver helmet inlayed with gold. He handed it over.


    ¡°And a helm to be recognized.¡±


    The helmet was beautiful. The engravings were of strong beasts all fleeing from the flame of a rearing dragon. The gold was inlayed into the dragon¡¯s flame and along every edge. The inside was lined with soft padded leather.


    ¡°Father, I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Nothing needs to be said, son.¡± His father took the helm and tied it to the pommel of Sefalus¡¯ saddle.


    He suddenly grabbed Aeolwyn and pulled him into a tight hug. His father squeezed him so tightly all the air rushed out of his lungs and he felt his ribs beginning to crack. He didn¡¯t care. He squeezed his father back with as much force as his tiny body could muster.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you, boy,¡± the king said softly.


    The king released him and helped him into the saddle. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t need the help, he had been riding since he was 5 years old. But something told him that this was something his father needed to do, so Aeolwyn let him. He stuck his foot into the stirrup the king held and accepted the push to get him up and over the horse¡¯s flank.


    ¡°Do me proud, son.¡±


    ¡°I will, father,¡± Aeolwyn replied.


    His father raised his hand to General Alaric, who signaled a trumpeter who blew a quick fanfare.


    ¡°Move out!¡± the general shouted and the caravan of soldiers, horsemen, carriages and carts slowly began moving, making their way out of the palace¡¯s gates. A drummer started banging out a rhythm. The pikemen moved out in step to the drummer¡¯s rhythm. When they were far enough away, the horsemen, including Aeolwyn and Sefalus followed after. This was it! He was on his way to becoming a real soldier and meet his destiny.


    ***


    Fraius had arranged to be a member of the rear guard. There had been a recruiting drive in the slums of the dock while General Alaric had been visiting with the king. Knowing Aeolwyn was being exiled to Fort Camulan, it was a simple matter to dress in rags and sign up with the corporal in charge of recruiting new soldiers. Fraius had impressed him with his skill with a staff and so had been given charge of a small group of the recruits, into which he inserted a few trusted members of the Children. He didn¡¯t expect to need any help, but if he got into trouble, it would be good to be prepared.


    There had been a good deal of waiting around while the prince said his goodbyes. It irritated Fraius like a skin rash that the general would allow such a display. The boy was a soldier now, he didn¡¯t deserve any special treatment. The fact that he was allowed a horse was bad enough, but to hold up the whole battalion to say goodbye to his father? Outrageous.


    Finally, the boy had said his tearful farewell to his father. They were so careless. It would have been such a simple thing to kill the both of them. He toyed with the fantasy for a moment as the line of soldiers got slowly underway. He wondered how many of the royal family he could kill before he would meet his end.


    Could he kill all of them? It was definitely possible. None of them were particularly skilled in combat. The only one who would present even an inkling of a challenge was the younger twin, Ulfnar. He was seen regularly in the taverns and bars along the docks and slums. In those areas one had to take care of themselves. The denizens of those regions easily recognized weakness and would quickly pounce on a fat target, especially someone as obviously wealthy as a royal.


    Yet he was left alone night after night. That only meant one thing: Ulfnar was dangerous. A skilled fighter and known killer. Fraius salivated at the thought of pitting himself against such a man. He rarely faced such a challenge anymore.


    It wasn¡¯t a question of if Fraius could kill him. It was a question of how long it would take, and whether he would be able to dispatch him quickly enough to hit other targets in the royal family.


    He wouldn¡¯t kill Ulfnar first. That would likely mean he would be his only target. However, he couldn¡¯t take him on last, either. He would be in action as soon as he caught wind of the attack. Fraius wouldn¡¯t be able to avoid him.


    So, third or fourth would be appropriate, as long as the first three were the easier targets. Aeolwyn and the king would be first. It didn¡¯t matter in what order he dispatched them. The fat king and young boy wouldn¡¯t put up much resistance. After that, if Ulfnar hadn¡¯t reached him yet, maybe one of the women or the other twin.


    Whether he would be able to kill his next target after Ulfnar was questionable, and it thrilled him to fantasize about it. Even if he could get through the entire royal family, the assault would be a death sentence, but that was a small price to pay for such a grand feat. The children of the Courageous Order of Heavens would be talking about it for eternity.


    But it was not to be, at least not yet. Star Lord Longinus had forbidden it and had directed Fraius to kill the boy on the road to Fort Camulan. That his son wasn¡¯t safe so far away from the capital was the message the Star Lord wanted to send. That he could be reached surrounded by soldiers would shake the king¡¯s confidence down to his bones.


    Someone caught his eye as the rear guard passed through the gates.


    Standing beside the open portcullis, leaning against a lamppost was a strange woman in dark clothes covered in a jet-black cloak. That in itself wasn¡¯t unusual. What was unusual about her was her color: She was as dark as a moonless night.


    He had seen other people of her color many times, but never this far north. Most of the people of their color, black was what they termed it, kept within the borders of Tambryne. The answer to what she was doing this far north sparked his imagination.


    Although she was trying to appear innocently casual, the air of dangerousness that surrounded her suggested otherwise. She was going to be following them. Fraius wasn¡¯t in any danger, of course, but someone else in the group would be, and it didn¡¯t take a brilliant mind to figure out who. He would have to keep an eye on her.

 13: A New Friend

    The road was hot, and the small puffs of dust that came up from every foot drop and every hoof drop joined together to make a massive cloud of dust. The column stretched for what seemed like an eternity. The cobblestones that covered the road in Teorton slowly faded to a thick red clay, and then to hard packed dirt.


    The road rose and fell along with the low hills that surrounded Teorton. As the capital city passed into the distance the tree cover got thicker. General Alaric posted archers on the outside of the column with orders to keep an eye out for raiders and bandits hiding in the cover.


    Aeolwyn tugged at his baldric, the leather strap that went around his shoulder and kept his sword on. His new sword¡¯s scabbard pulled on his shoulder and after the few hours they had been underway it was getting sore. He kept adjusting it, but there was no relief. How was he going to make it the entire way to Fort Camulan?


    Even though he was near the front of the column the dust was so thick it was difficult to breathe. It made its way into his throat and lungs. The tiny particles scratched his throat like sandpaper. He longed for a cool drink to sooth his aching throat. He wished they could stop for a few moments so he could take off the baldric that held the sword on his shoulder. Just a few moments to ease the pain.


    Sefalus plodded on without complaint. He was a good horse and Aeolwyn was glad to have him. What he wished he had was a better saddle. Even though they had only been traveling for a few hours, his butt hurt already. He shifted his weight often, but he was sure he was going to have sores before long.


    It was official. Being a soldier was awful. He already wished he were back in the palace with Sir Jom and his soldiers. He would trade his sword and horse for hours lifting barrels in the yard with his old mentor. He should have paid more attention to politics. That sounded much better. Even if you had to scheme and pretend to like people while trying to kill them behind their back, at least you were comfortable while you did it.


    All his life he¡¯d heard great stories about soldiers. The soldier who killed the three-headed dragon. His grandfather, the soldier who subjugated the elves. His uncle who died defending Fort Camulan from a Fennish raid. They were all tales of valor, glory, and victory.


    What none of the stories mentioned was how the saddle hurt, or how the handle of your sword dug into your side while you were on your horse. It was always the glory and none of the complaints. Ainherwyn was never thirsty.


    He had been a soldier for only a few hours and already hated it.


    But he had no escape. He had agreed to be exiled as a soldier to save his life. He would never be allowed back to Teorton, unless it was for a special circumstance, like a death or marriage. After the event he would be allowed to spend one night before leaving.


    Of course, there was a whole world out there. He didn¡¯t have to stay a soldier. He could sneak off to Tambryne or join a ship¡¯s crew and explore the far reaches of Laryndor. He could head north to Fortru or Nordenland. There was nothing stopping him.


    He wasn¡¯t about to desert though, no matter how often he fantasized about it. He was royalty and had given his word. If that didn¡¯t mean anything, then nothing did. A royal breaking their word could cause the whole political system to come crashing down.


    And more importantly, he would hate himself if he broke his promise. He was a lot of things, including a killer, but he wasn¡¯t a liar or an oath breaker. He would honor his agreement and see it through.


    He heard a command from further up the column, and the group slowly came to a stop. After a few moments a runner came down the line announcing that they would be taking a short break to rest the horses and get some water from the nearby stream.


    Aeolwyn took the opportunity to get off his horse and rest his poor behind. He didn¡¯t think he had any saddle sores yet, but he was sure to have them by the time they stopped for the evening. He kept telling himself that it was all part of the learning process of being a soldier, and before he knew it, his rear would be as tough as nails.


    He watched one of the mounted soldiers behind him walk off into the tree line reaching for his trousers. He hadn¡¯t thought about it until that very second, but he also had to relieve himself. He quietly followed the soldier but turned to the right when he turned to the left. He wanted some privacy.


    As he stood there, doing his business, he couldn¡¯t help but shake the feeling that he was being watched. He kept looking around but didn¡¯t see anyone. No one on the road was looking, and there wasn¡¯t anyone in the trees either.


    It made him nervous, and he wasn¡¯t sure if it was because he was out here, essentially alone, or if it was because he was out here with his prick in his hand. Normally when he was urinating, he was in the privacy of his chamber pissing into the chamber pot, or into one of the many garderobes inside the palace. He rarely peed outside, and never in a place where it felt like someone¡¯s eyes were burning a hole in the back of his head.


    Every so often he thought he¡¯d heard footsteps. When he looked over to his left, he could see the soldier a few feet away still doing his business, so it wasn¡¯t him returning to the column. The sound wasn¡¯t frequent and regular like someone walking. It was slower and haphazard. The type of footsteps you would hear if someone was trying to sneak up on you.


    He turned, his business finished. The soldier turned at nearly the same time. Then a lot of things happened at once. Something jumped up from behind the soldier and attacked him. Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t tell what it was, except a humanoid and green.


    The soldier screamed and fell. The humanoid creature pounced on top of him, yellow fangs bared. The creature¡¯s head dove directly into the man¡¯s shoulder as he tried frantically to push the beast away.


    Fear paralyzed him. Aeolwyn knew he couldn¡¯t just stand there and watch the beast kill the man. What kind of soldier would he be if that happened? But he couldn¡¯t bring himself to move. He felt panic rising to the top of his body that, despite how hard he fought, was winning the battle.


    The soldier was going to die.


    He remembered his training from Sir Jom. His mentor insisted on doing sword lessons at night in the dark. Aeolwyn would have to spar against one of the other students while Sir Jom yelled at both of them. He would hide in the darkness and jump out at random times.


    The point was to instill fear into Aeowyn and the other student so that they could recognize what it felt like and still be able to function when it happened. But that was practice. This was real.


    No. It was no different. It was just like practice. The only difference was that his sword was steel and the instigator was some green thing instead of Sir Jom.


    That was enough to break through the fear.


    Aeolwyn drew his sword and raced over to the man and the monster. The green best lifted its head when Aeolwyn approached, showing two yellow fangs dripping with blood. The grotesque face had a deep brow ridge, eyes that were too close together and a large, bulbous nose. It shrieked when it saw him.


    He sliced its head off in one clean swing. Just as the creature fell atop the soldier, a second one sprang up to his left, and then a third a few feet away from the second. He shifted his weight as he turned, ducked down low and brought his blade up through the second beast¡¯s groin.


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    He took a step to the side, spinning while he pulled his sword from the beast. The third one tried to snake around his blade, but its momentum was too great. It impaled itself on Aeolwyn¡¯s sword, but to his amazement it pulled itself forward, clawing at his eyes.


    He released the blade and drew  the dagger Ulfnar had hidden in his sleeve. In one single motion he pulled the knife out and swung, cutting the monster¡¯s throat, spraying red blood like a fountain into the air.


    All three beasts collapsed back to the earth, their lifeblood draining out among the dirt and leaves. The one he had disemboweled was still breathing in weak, staggered breaths. The one who¡¯d had its throat slit was spasming, one hand trying to keep the blood in. The decapitated one was already dead.


    He sheathed his weapons and raced over to the soldier, who was still clinging to life. He gathered up the soldier in his arms and lifted him over his shoulder. He was heavy! Now Aeolwyn knew why Sir Jom made him lift and carry barrels around the yard every day.


    He ran back to the column screaming for help.


    ¡°Help!¡± he shouted. ¡°He¡¯s hurt! He¡¯s going to die!¡±


    He wondered who the soldier was. He wasn¡¯t old enough to be a grizzled veteran, and not scrawny enough to be a new recruit like himself. He was young and fresh-faced, but his arms were tough and sinewy, and as heavy as an ox!


    Other soldiers looked from their comfortable seats on the dirt, but none made a move to help. Some just sat and watched, but others stared into their empty cups. He couldn¡¯t believe that he was carrying a soldier on the brink of death, and not a single one cared.


    ¡°Help!¡± He shouted. He carefully set the man down onto his back. The soldier was getting more pale by the moment. His eyes were getting far and glassy. Aeolwyn had seen that look before when he stabbed in the Star Children¡¯s prisons.


    A tall man appeared from behind him. ¡°What happened, Aeolwyn?¡± he asked.


    It was Egnever! He was the only one who came to help. He knelt down over the wounded soldier, looking over the bloody gashes on the man¡¯s shoulder. He tugged gently on the tunic and winced when he saw the damage.


    ¡°It was some green monster! It jumped on him and started biting his shoulder.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Egnever replied. He closed his eyes and held his hands over the wound. He shuddered from some unseen force. A blue-white glow came from his hands and into the wounded soldier. As the light enveloped the injury, it knitted itself back together.


    The soldier¡¯s eyes fluttered open and he gasped loudly. He shuddered and gazed down in wonder at the magical healing spell bringing him back from the brink of death. The color returned to his face and he managed to crack a smile.


    ¡°What in the glorious name of Laryn is going on over here?¡±


    The general¡¯s voice was unmistakable. Aeolwyn stood and did his best to stand at attention. He resisted the urge to salute after the dressing down he received earlier in the day. The general¡¯s words to him stung more than the sores on his bottom.


    ¡°He¡¯s out of the worst of it now, sir,¡± Egnever said. ¡°But he¡¯s going to be tired for a few days. He will need to ride in one of the wagons.¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± the soldier grumbled, struggling to his feet, ¡°I am well enough to ride beside the prince.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± the general demanded, seeing the soldier¡¯s torn clothes stained with blood. He didn¡¯t seem to be concerned about the man¡¯s injuries. He appeared to be more upset at the distraction.


    ¡°He was attacked by little green monsters!¡± Aeolwyn said.


    ¡°Monsters?¡± the man next to the general asked.


    ¡°They were like people, only smaller and green, with large yellow tusks.¡±


    ¡°Goblins,¡± the general said. His mouth twisted dourly, as though he had just bit into a lemon. He turned to the man standing next to him. ¡°I told the archers to keep watch. Find the one who failed in his duty and bring him to me for punishment.¡±


    ¡°He saved my life, sir,¡± the soldier gestured to Aeolwyn.  ¡°You should have seen him easily dispatch all three of them. I¡¯ve never seen such calm fluidity with a blade.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, soldier?¡± Alaric asked.


    ¡°Galafar, sir,¡± he answered. The soldier stood weakly at attention, doing a poor job of trying to stand still.


    The general put an arm on Aeolwyn¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Well done, soldier,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯d better get moving.¡± Then Alaric abruptly turned and strode away. Aeolwyn watched him go. The general wore the armor and sword with such ease. He wished he could have such a strong bearing.


    Galafar held out his hand and Aeolwyn took it. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to thank you, your grace,¡± he said. ¡°So, from here on, consider me your personal bodyguard.¡±


    Aeolwyn¡¯s felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Galafar sounded earnestly grateful for Aeolwyn¡¯s actions. He had only done what any other soldier would have done in the same circumstances.


    ¡°Please, Galafar, that isn¡¯t necessary,¡± he said as their hands separated.


    ¡°I insist,¡± he said, ¡°Just let me get my horse.¡± Galafar made a passable attempt at running off, though it appeared to be something more like a skip-stumble.


    Aeolwyn shrugged it off and mounted his horse. Stinging pain lanced up and down his body as he sat upon the saddle. He wondered if Egnever could heal it before it got too bad.


    He looked around for his friend, but he was nowhere to be found. He appeared from nowhere, healed Galafar, and then vanished, all in an instant. Come to think of it, he didn¡¯t remember seeing Egnever as soon as the general had appeared. He would have to remember to thank him later.


    It only took a few minutes before the whole column was underway again. Almost immediately he was uncomfortably shifting in his saddle and readjusting the baldric again. He was sure to have a bruise.


    The adrenaline from the fight had worn off and now his hands had started shaking. After his initial reaction, he didn¡¯t feel afraid at all. He just sprang into action and did what needed to be done. What bothered him though was how little he felt about the whole affair. It felt no different than when he had done his lessons with Sir Jom, and now the lessons were over.


    Even though Galafar was treating him like a hero, he didn¡¯t feel like one. The soldier wasn¡¯t wrong, Aeolwyn had saved his life, but he didn¡¯t feel like he had done anything special. He had expected to have a sense of pride, but he didn¡¯t. The only positive feeling he had about the whole thing was that he was glad Galafar was alive.


    A horse rode up beside him. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t have to look to know it was Galafar. He had changed out of his torn, bloodied tunic and put on a fresh one. He was still weak, but was trying hard not to let it show.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly.


    His horse was a large and strong destrier. The type he would not want to face in a battle. It was one thing to have to worry about a warrior¡¯s skill with his weapon, but when his mount was also a weapon, the danger was multiplied.


    Packed on the back of the horse, just behind the saddle was a gleaming set plate armor. How wealthy was Galafar to be able to afford such a set? And more importantly, why hadn¡¯t Aeolwyn¡¯s father given him some? He surely could have afforded it.


    He already knew the answer. To be able to fight in that type of armor took extensive training. Training that Sir Jom hadn¡¯t given him yet. Besides, Aeolwyn was still young and would outgrow such a set of armor quickly. At least the mail armor he had received would grow with him. At least for a while.


    The helmet, packed on top was more functional than ornamental, but it had a particular rounded shape that few sets of armor had. The rest of the suit had several engravings around it, including a symbol of a shield on the chest. The distinctive stylings and engravings on Galafar¡¯s armor made it clear who and what Galafar was.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Shielder?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    Galafar nodded. ¡°Shield Brother Galafar, at your service.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing with us? Don¡¯t you have duties with them?¡±


    Galafar shrugged, wincing a little as he moved his shoulder. ¡°My commander thinks it will be good for my development, so this is where I was assigned.¡±


    They rode for a while, and Galafar talked about his time with the Shielders. It turned out that he was born in Tambryne just outside of Cape Bryne where a Shielder fort was. His parents were killed in a raid and someone named Commander Tymon took him in. He had been with the group ever since.


    ¡°You know, you don¡¯t owe me anything,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°I was just doing what anyone else would have done.¡±


    Galafar scowled. ¡°That¡¯s not true, my prince. Did you see those other soldiers? They know what I am. They would have as soon spit on my corpse and give the goblins a medal than help me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Aeolwyn said. It was fine in the palace for those of a lesser station to call him by his title, but they were both soldiers. And besides, he liked Galafar. ¡°Just call me Aeolwyn.¡±


    ¡°If it pleases you,¡± Galafar said. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that they also know who you are. Some of them may not be pleased at having a prince in their company. It¡¯ll be good to have someone to watch your back.¡±


    That was true. Maybe Egnever wanted to kill him, or the Star Children could have hidden assassins among the soldiers. He had killed one of their members. No matter how far he was exiled, he certainly had a target on his back.


    He didn¡¯t want to come right out and say that he could use a bodyguard; that could insinuate weakness. He didn¡¯t have anything to fear from Galafar, but others might be listening, either with their ears or through magical means.


    ¡°I would be happy to have you as a friend, Galafar,¡± he said.


    He just hoped he was worrying too much. But between Egnever¡¯s and the Star Children¡¯s grudge against him, he had a lot to be concerned about. He hoped he could patch things up with Egnever, but if the Star Children decided that exile wasn¡¯t enough for him, the only thing that would appease them was his blood.

 14: Lessons

    Davinya was not happy. Her father had said no when she asked to study magic under Jor Bashi, her father¡¯s court mage. So, she was going to do it anyway. Jor Bashi knew how to be discreet, and he agreed that it was in her best interests to be able to protect herself with magic. Protecting herself with martial skills was out of the question. She was never going to be as strong as Wolfryn, or as sly as Ulfnar, so magic was her only recourse.


    Jor Bashi¡¯s study was in a building as far away from the palace as it could be. It stood near the back gate, a few feet from the wall. It was a stout stone tower, if it could be called such a thing considering its short height, unadorned with anything that might resemble opulence. The stone walls were bare, not covered with any plaster, nor were they covered with decorations that might give the building an artistic look. It was strictly functional and meant to be repaired in the event of any sort of magical mishap.


    The interior was just as spartan as the exterior. It opened up to an antechamber that consisted of a simple table and two doors. One door led to the basement where Jor Bashi¡¯s research took place. The other led to the study where she and the magician were seated. To the side of the study was a circular staircase that rose to the second floor where Jor Bashi¡¯s private quarters were.


    The study consisted of three or four tables filled with all sorts of arcane devices, including books open to random pages, with half-filled glass vials and notes sitting on top of them. Added to this was a assortment of magical artifacts, statuary, random bits of animal parts and other stuff Davinya didn¡¯t want to try to identify.


    It was difficult to know the exact number of tables because there was so much clutter everywhere. Jor Bashi was like a magical packrat. Every available space was filled with magical objects or components used for spells or strange objects she couldn¡¯t identify. The only places that weren¡¯t filled were passageways to the entrance and the staircase up to the second floor. Even the steps on the stairs themselves had magical junk stored on them like some bookcase that had been twisted around itself.


    Davinya stood in the only open area in the room that wasn¡¯t cluttered with books, glass tubes, paper notes, vials, or other materials that Bashi used for his studies. The place was a disaster and smelled like one. The floor had a surprising amount of creepy crawlies moving around. If she kicked a pile of junk over and found a body, she doubted she would be surprised.


    ¡°Now, Princess Davinya, can you tell from where Laryndor¡¯s magic derives?¡±


    Davinya sighed. Her childhood tutors had hammered this knowledge into her since she had been old enough to understand language. ¡°Magic is derived from the goddess Laryn who sends her power through her four children,¡± she intoned by rote. ¡°Her four children then pass that magic onto us. The names of these four children give us the names of our schools of magic.¡±


    Jor Bashi cackled. ¡°Spoken like a studious little schoolgirl,¡± he said. ¡°And so completely wrong.¡±


    Wrong? She wasn¡¯t wrong. She had taken a particular interest in magic from a young age. She had even snuck out to the library in the middle of the night to get into the sections on magic that were off-limits. She read all the books on magic that she could, and everyone one of them said that the god Laryn was the source of all magic.


    And even if she were wrong, did he have to be so damned smug about it?


    She wanted to slap the huge grin right off his face. There were a number of reasons why she wouldn¡¯t try though, besides the fact that he would refuse to teach her after. The first would be that he was a grandmaster of magic. She wouldn¡¯t be able to get within an arm¡¯s reach of him before he would have her tied up in knots. Even if she could get close enough to strike, he was extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat. The second her arm reached for his face, he would twist her hand up around her and fling her across the room, heedless of the glasses and experiments he would shatter.


    His bald head and blue robe belied someone with such impressive skills. He looked more like an ascetic monk than one of the most preeminent magicians in all of Laryndor. Unlike other mages, he didn¡¯t believe it was appropriate to dress in fancy, flashy clothes. Despite his attitude towards her scholarship, he believed it was important to be humble when one possessed such power.


    ¡°But the theology of magic is a lesson for another time. For now, we shall study the more practical applications of Laryn¡¯s gift. Would you like me to explain how the magic from Laryn are expressed as spells?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. She already knew, but if he thought her explanation of where magic comes from was wrong, perhaps she was going to be wrong about how a magician uses that magic as well. She didn¡¯t want him to embarrass her again.


    He nodded, and a knowing look flashed across his face. He knew why she wanted him to tell her. She fought down the embarrassment as she felt her face starting to flush.


    ¡°As you say, all magic comes from the god Laryn. This magic travels through her four children and from them it travels to us. The personalities of her children influence the magical energy as it flows through them and into the world. We call this energy The Essences. By combining each Essence in different ratios, recipes if you will, you will get different effects. We call those effects spells.¡±


    While it wasn¡¯t word-for-word, that was the exact explanation given in On Magic and Spellcraft by Joannes Thrnshoven. She wasn¡¯t wrong. Still, it was better to hear him explain it to her than for her to try to explain it and for him to tell her she was wrong again.


    Bashi continued, ¡°Even when using a single Essence in a different ratio with non-essence you can get a different effect. That¡¯s a mistake many beginners make. They assume that a single essence will always net you the same spell, which is wrong.¡±


    She¡¯d never heard a mention of non-essence before. ¡°What is non-essence?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Exactly what it sounds like, girl. The lack of Essence. A nothingness of spell energy, if you will.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense,¡± she said.


    He frowned, ¡°You must let go of what you have read,¡± he said. ¡°There is knowledge that you have gained from a book, and there is knowledge from what you¡¯ve experienced. Until you¡¯ve experienced the Essences flowing through you, what you¡¯ve learned from the books is useless.¡±


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°How is studying books useless? You have them all around you.¡±


    His frown turned to a scowl. She suspected he didn¡¯t like this line of questioning. She could tell he was irritated, but the tone of his voice didn¡¯t change. He still sounded like he was lecturing a child.


    ¡°From your readings, do you know what it feels like when the Essences are flowing through you? Can you tell, by feel which one you are manipulating?¡±


    The books described the Essences and how they flowed through the magic user as they used them, but he was right. None of them described how they felt. She suspected that was an important distinction.


    ¡°No,¡± she admitted.


    He smiled. ¡°Exactly so, so forget those books. First things first, I am going to teach you how to open yourself up to the Essenses. Close your eyes, take a few quiet breaths, and listen.¡±


    She did as he instructed, closing her eyes, breathing, and listening. For five minutes she waited for him to say something, but he said nothing. ¡°Are you going to say something?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°Did I say to listen to me?¡± he snapped back. ¡°No. I said to just listen.¡±


    ¡°What am I listening to?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything.¡±


    ¡°The voices of the gods,¡± he whispered.


    ***


    Aeolwyn was gone, and everyone blamed Ulfnar, no matter how many times he denied it. How could he have been with Aeolwyn going to the Star Children¡¯s outpost when he was in the docks gambling with Fasadina?


    He left out the part about Fasadina. His punishment would be worse if they had known he was carousing with a commoner. Despite the difference in station, she didn¡¯t seem any different from any of them. In fact, he liked her better than any of his siblings. She was more real, more down to earth. She had to work for everything she had, and her humility reflected that.


    He wasn¡¯t in love with her, though they had shared a bed on a number of occasions. She wasn¡¯t beautiful, though she was very comely. There was something about her rugged, sunburnt appearance that appealed to him. She wasn¡¯t a porcelain doll like the women on the hill, the slang Fasadina used to refer to the nobility who lived near the palace.


    As part of his punishment, he wasn¡¯t allowed out of the palace. His father had posted extra sentries at every entrance and exit to ensure none of the royal family was able to leave the grounds. He was sure that his brothers were excepted to that rule, particularly the crown prince. Alfyn always got special treatment.


    It was clear to Ulfnar that hos brother had something to do with Aeolwyn¡¯s exile. Especially considering that Alfyn¡¯s friend Egnever was also caught. As far as Ulfnar knew, He and Aeolwyn weren¡¯t friends, and why would they be? Aeolwyn was 12, and Egnever was nearing 20. 8 years was a large age gap when you were young.


    The caravan had left nearly a week ago. He wondered how his little brother was handling the journey. It couldn¡¯t be easy for him, considering he¡¯d never ridden a horse for longer than an hour, and hadn¡¯t traveled out of the city before.


    Discomfort was the least of his worries though. There were plenty of dangers on the road, from highwaymen to goblins, to all sorts of other unspeakable monsters. He was bound to face dangers closer to home as well. If Alfyn did have something to do with it and wanted Aeolwyn out of the way for some reason, an assassination on the way to Fort Camulan was the perfect opportunity.


    He opened the window to the palace grounds and shimmied down the wall. No guard was going to keep him away from the bars on the docks. They were his favorite place. He loved being around real people who weren¡¯t scheming and maneuvering to get more influence with the king.


    As he ran quietly towards the outer wall he wondered if he should just forget this whole thing and chase after the caravan. For all he knew Aeolwyn could already be in danger.


    ***


    ¡°Why are you doing this, girl?¡± Jor Bashi said, spittle flowing from his lips as he shouted. He was as red-faced as she had ever seen. His hands, clenched tightly at his sides, prevented him from doing something that both of them would regret.


    Davinya had stood there listening for the better part of an hour, and she still couldn¡¯t hear them. It would help if she knew what to listen for, but that wasn¡¯t the point of this exercise, and she knew it. The point was for her to experience something she had only read about.


    Her father had said no to studying magic, despite knowing how Alfyn acted around her. He said that it was natural for a handsome man like the crown prince to be attracted to such a beautiful woman as Davinya. A little experimentation was harmless.


    She didn¡¯t think it was harmless. It was disgusting. There was something wrong with Alfyn, and she couldn¡¯t put her finger on it. Being around him made her feel slimy. Like taking a bath in an oily pond.


    She knew he lusted after her. He wasn¡¯t an ugly man, but he was her brother! There were some boundaries that could not be crossed. He was a strong man, and he could force her if he wanted to. An event that she suspected would come along sooner or later, and she meant to protect herself when it did. She did not want to end up like Aeolwyn did.


    Her poor little brother. He had been caught up in a scheme of Alfyn¡¯s making. Though he hadn¡¯t come outright and said it, he didn¡¯t have to. His confession was in the smug way he walked the halls. The happiness in his face as Aeolwyn¡¯s horse rode out of the palace with the rest of the column. She would not be a victim of Alfyn¡¯s scheming.


    Then she heard something. Very soft whispers, but as she was able to focus on them, she heard them better. How had she missed them before? They were clear as day! At first, they were all jumbled on top of each other, but listening carefully, she could make out individual voices, not their words, but the emotions behind them.


    ¡°I hear them,¡± she said softly.


    The first voice she could make out was filled with rage. That had to be Agyassa the Violent, the god of war. The angry voice spoke loudest, just like in real life. His magic was the magic of attacks, of injury, of fire.


    The next voice she picked out filled her with love. Utashu the Blessed then, her magic was that of life, of restoration, of healing. Listening to her voice felt restful, like a quiet day lounging in the palace, feeling a cool breeze across her skin.


    Then came a beautiful melody. Like someone humming a song quietly to themselves. It rose and fell in crescendos and decrescendos. It was loud and harsh at times, and then at other times it was soft and warm. This was the voice of Jakitradius the Harmonious. The magic of balance.


    She kept listening, but the last voice eluded her. She knew who it would be: Samahdin the Illumed, the magic of enlightenment. It was hard to filter out the other three voices to hear, but she knew it was there. It was like trying to hear a whisper in a loud room.


    With great difficulty, she tuned out loudest voice, Agyassa the Violent. Then Utashu and Jakitradus faded into the background. She bent her ear to hear it but could not.


    ¡°Quiet your mind, Daryna,¡± Jor Bashi said softly.


    She did as he instructed. She let the voices, and her thoughts float away like tiny clouds floating on the wind. As new thoughts popped into her mind, she watched them go by, but did not acknowledge them.


    Her body relaxed and her mind got calmer. As the real world faded from her perception, she could make out the faintest whisper of a whisper. If she got too excited or tried to focus on it, it would fade away again. She had to put any attempt out of her mind. It was like a skittish deer. She had to wait for it to come to her.


    And it did. Peace, Samahdin whispered in her ear. She had done it! She heard the voices. As her body flooded with excitement of the accomplishment, the peace collapased. Agyassa¡¯s rage came flooding back into her ear, and then his voice faded back into a whisper.


    She could hear the soft breeze of the wind sound like a maelstrom, before fading into the background. She felt like she was climbing out of a deep hole and seeing sunlight for the first time.


    She opened her eyes, and Jor Bashi was smiling.

 15: Separated

    On the seventh night they made camp in a clearing just outside of a village whose name Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know. General Alaric made it quite clear that no one was to go into the village. Not because there was anything inherently dangerous about it, but because he knew the irresistible temptation a village with a tavern offered.


    There was a small delegation that would be heading into the village to purchase supplies and secure permission to camp outside its borders. Aeolwyn was not among them. He wished he was. The town was certain to have a healer, and his saddle sores had become extremely painful. So painful that he had taken to walking his horse as often as he was on its back.


    He was tempted to ask Egnever for a healing, but he had resisted so far for two reasons: first, Egnever didn¡¯t particularly like him and might decide to make him worse instead of healing him. Secondly, if he told someone, including Egnever, he was certain to be on the receiving end of unending mockery. Soldiers loved a good mocking, and they especially loved ensuring that someone who used to be elevated over them knew their new place.


    So, he endured them, despite the pain they offered. He wasn¡¯t sure what was worse, the pain when they rubbed against the saddle, or the stinging he felt when he washed them. Both were equally painful, but pains of a different sort. Such was the life of a soldier. They would get better. He hoped.


    The sun had gone down and the delegation hadn¡¯t yet returned. That wasn¡¯t a problem for Aeolwyn; he had all he needed. His horse was fed, watered, and stood tethered nearby. He still didn¡¯t trust his Sefalus to the picket line just yet. He was a good horse, and Aeolwyn wanted him nearby.


    He was getting better at setting up his small tent on his own. It was easier when he had Galafar to help, who insisted on helping at every turn. He even offered to put a salve on Aeolwyn¡¯s saddle sores. Aeolwyn politely declined that. The man was a soldier, not a servant!


    Aeolwyn tried, to the best of his ability, to decline Galafar¡¯s help when offered. Sometimes the soldier would insist on helping, or more often, he would just say ¡°Yes, sir,¡± and continue to help. When Aeolwyn made a big deal out of wanting to do things on his own and sent Galafar away, he would stalk off and sulk nearby, looking hurt.


    This was one of those times. He had to send Galafar away so he could set up his tent on his own. Truthfully Aeolwyn struggled with it and had been working on it late into the night, long after the other soldiers had their meals and were drinking, smoking, or maintaining their equipment. Galafar had come offering aid again, but Aeolwyn continued to send him away. It was close to midnight when he finally was able to get his bedroll inside the tent and close his eyes.


    The tent had a peculiar smell. It was old and musty and had belonged to someone else in the past. He didn¡¯t bring one of his own, so Alaric¡¯s quartermaster issued him one. Its previous occupant¡¯s odor had seeped into the tent¡¯s fibers and was slowly venting them off into Aeolwyn¡¯s nose. Most prominently was pipe smoke, but old body odor ran a close second.


    There was some rustling outside. From the sounds of it, Sefalus was trying to get free from his tether again. Probably to find something to chew on. He swore that horse had a bottomless stomach. Something they both shared.


    ¡°Sefalus, stop it!¡± he shouted.


    The rustling died down. At least he and the horse were bonding. By all accounts, he was a good animal. Strong, smart, and unafraid. Exactly the kind of horse a soldier would want. His mother had chosen well.


    Sometimes, a smart horse also was a stubborn horse, but Sefalus exhibited none of those traits. He would sometimes get feisty, but still obeyed Aeolwyn when told to calm down. All in all, he was a pleasant animal.


    Rustling again. He couldn¡¯t still be hungry. Aeolwyn had fed the creature twice! ¡°Sefalus!¡± he shouted. He would have to go out there and settle him down. The soldiers would complain if he kept this up all night, and that was the last thing he needed.


    More rustling and a hoof stamp. That did it. Aeolwyn threw off his blankets and climbed out of the tent. The fires had mostly died down as all the soldiers retired to their blankets. The only ones that were still up were the ones on guard duty at various posts around the camp. Guard duty was the worst. It would be Aeolwyn¡¯s turn tomorrow night.


    Sefalus was agitated about something. He wouldn¡¯t take the oats Aeolwyn offered him; he would turn his snout away from the feed bag. He continued to dance around nervously, stamp his hoof, and nudge Aeolwyn.


    What was wrong with the horse?


    He ran his hand along Sefalus¡¯ side and scratched his neck. Normally the horse would nuzzle his shoulder when he did so, but not this time. He shied away from the affection. At least he didn¡¯t bite. Aeolwyn stepped closer.


    Just as he stepped forward, the horse reared up. Aeolwyn jumped backwards to avoid being hit. What was wrong with Sefalus? Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t believe he would attack.


    Just as he turned away from the animal, a new threat emerged. Out of the darkness came a shape, dark as night. He only saw it because of the silhouette it made against the light of the fire two tents down. A pair of daggers glinted as they slashed down towards Aeolwyn.


    He ducked and twisted out of the way, but not before one of the blades sliced across his forearm. Pain lanced up his body and he instinctively cradled the injury. The assassin stumbled but rolled gracefully to their feet.


    If only he had his sword! He couldn¡¯t face this attack unarmed. The assassin would cut him down in an instant. He stumbled and tripped over one of the guy lines of his tent. The assassin pressed their advantage, knives blazing.


    Just then, Galafar appeared, seemingly from nowhere, sword and buckler in hand. His buckler deflected the attack, most likely saving Aeolwyn¡¯s life. Galafar put his body between Aeolwyn and the assassin, allowing him to get to his feet.


    ¡°Alarm!¡± Galafar shouted. ¡°Assassin in the camp!¡±


    Aeolwyn dove back into the tent and fetched his sword. As quickly as he could, he threw the chainmail armor over his head before running back out of the tent to join the battle. The mail felt heavy on his shoulders; he still hadn¡¯t gotten used to its weight, despite wearing it as often as he could.


    He was just glad he didn¡¯t strip his clothes off! There would be no end to his shame if he had faced the assassin naked. He would have rather been killed.


    ¡°Alarm!¡± one of the guards shouted. ¡°We are under attack!¡±


    The alarm bells began to sound all over the camp. It exploded into a frenzy of motion as soldiers emerged from their tents, in various states of dress, swords bared. At least he wouldn¡¯t have been the only one fighting naked.


    ¡°Alarm!¡± Another guard echoed.


    The sounds of battle permeated the camp. War cries came from beyond the trees and were countered by war cries from inside the camp. The clanging sound of steel meeting steel sounded again and again. Screams came from the dying as blades found their targets.


    Just as Aeolwyn emerged from the tent, he ducked an incoming slash. The Assassin had escaped from Galafar and was coming after him again. This time, with his armor on, the assassin¡¯s second blade sliced harmlessly across his chest.


    Even if he wasn¡¯t stabbed, the blow still staggered him. His armor may protect him from getting cut, but it didn¡¯t stop the force of the blow. He felt like he had been punched hard in the chest.


    He swung his blade at the assassin, and they cartwheeled nimbly out of the way. He pressed his attack, but they just jumped and flipped away from his sword. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t realize he was going to be fighting an acrobat from a traveling sideshow!


    The muscles in his arms started to ache. He wasn¡¯t used to this much effort. The assassin, sensing weakness charged. Aeolwyn retreated under the rapid cuts. Many of the attacks found their targets, but his armor protected him. There was only so much a longsword could do against a pair of blades.


    Wait. He had a dagger! He had forgotten about it! He reached under the sleeve of his mail and drew the weapon his brother had hidden there. The blade was light and the sheath so comfortable, it was easy to forget he was wearing it.


    Now the odds were even! He probably couldn¡¯t strike with the off-hand blade, but he could use it to deflect attacks, much as Galafar had done with his buckler.


    ¡°Aeolwyn!¡± A deeper voice shouted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Egnever, wearing only a nightshirt, carrying a makeshift staff. He appeared to have pulled it straight out of the fire, as it was still burning at one end. Was he going to have to defend himself against two targets now?


    Galafar stepped up beside him. ¡°I have your back, friend,¡± the young Shielder said.


    Three large bandits were rushing towards the two of them. They were about to be significantly outnumbered. Aeolwyn shoved the rising fear back down. He had trained with Sir Jom against multiple opponents. This would be no different.


    Suddenly a blue glow surrounded Egnever. Was this his attack? Sir Jom hadn¡¯t trained him to fight magic users! He grabbed Galafar and pulled him away from the presumed path of whatever spell Egnever was about to unleash, but it was too late.


    Reality bent and warped, making Aeolwyn¡¯s stomach lurch. He felt stretched and pulled in all directions as he tried to keep himself together. He suddenly was assaulted by a great wind and was pulled hard from his feet. He held tight to Galafar.


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    The two landed hard on the ground. Aeolwyn¡¯s sword went flying as he tried to brace his fall. Thankfully the knife in his other hand stayed out of Galafar¡¯s ribs. Likewise, Galafar¡¯s blade stopped only inches from Aeolwyn¡¯s throat.


    The buckler had other plans. It had slammed hard into Aeolwyn¡¯s face. He could already feel a lump starting to form where it had hit. He shook his head. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was just dizzy from the blow, or if all the noise from the battle had just suddenly vanished.


    ¡°Aeolwyn!¡± Egnever shouted.


    Aeolwyn rolled to his feet, dagger bared. ¡°Stay away from me!¡±


    ¡°Form up!¡± Galafar shouted.


    Aeolwyn turned to see the three bandits racing at them in the dark, lit only by the moon. Where had the assassin gone? Egnever had to be ignored. He would do what he would do. The more pressing threat was the bandits.


    He longed for the sword, but that had gone flying. Galafar held tight to him, trying to use his buckler to shield them both. Not that it could, the thing was barely larger than a dinner plate.


    Someone made contact with his other shoulder. The assassin looked back at him as he turned. Behind the hood was a face as dark as night. The only thing discernable in the face was the whites of the eyes looking back at him.


    ¡°No one kills you but me,¡± they said in a light, delicate voice.


    The assassin was a woman. If he weren¡¯t under attack by a trio of bandits, the shock would have knocked him to the ground. He didn¡¯t know why that should surprise him; women were capable of all sorts of things. He just didn¡¯t expect murder to be one of them.


    It was over in an instant, and Aeolwyn didn¡¯t do anything. When the bandits got close enough, the woman assassin leapt up, did a flip, landed behind two of them, and stabbed each of them in the back with her knives. The third was left to Galafar who quickly disembowled him with his sword.


    As soon as the bandits were killed, Galafar shoved Aeolwyn out of the way and stood between him and the assassin, who stood ready for another fight. She tried to move but was held fast by some hidden methods.


    Aeolwyn stepped beside Galafar and looked at her. She was no taller than he, and just as thin. The cloak she wore billowed out and gave her the impression of being larger. Underneath the cloak she wore a black tunic under a leather bodice, and black trousers.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Egnever asked.


    In the heat of the battle, he¡¯d forgotten about Egnever. He turned towards the mage, dagger ready, but his brother¡¯s former friend seemed to be uninterested in him. His eyes were focused solely on the assassin.


    Egnever stole a glance at Aeolwyn, then stepped back, arms raised. ¡°What are you¡­.¡± He started before trailing off. ¡°Did you think I was going to hurt you? I may not like you, Aeolwyn, but I don¡¯t want you dead. I¡¯ll get my revenge on you for this,¡± he gestured around him, ¡°but whatever form that revenge will take, I¡¯m not going to kill you.¡±


    Aeolwyn relaxed, hearing the truth in his words. He realized that, since they¡¯d left, Egnever had shown him no reason to fear an attack. If anything, it had been the opposite. He had healed Galafar, after all.


    Aeolwyn finally allowed himself the time to look around. They were no longer in the clearing where the army had made its camp. Not only was the camp and the clearing gone, but so was the road, the village, and all the soldiers.


    Instead, they were in a dark forest lit only by the moon. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°Not important right now,¡± Egnever said. He gestured at the assassin. ¡°She is what matters. Galafar, can you secure her? I can¡¯t hold her like this forever.¡±


    Galafar sheathed his weapons and pulled out a small pair of manacles. Where he had got them, or why he happened to be carrying them at a time when the rest of the soldiers had gone to bed, Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know. All he knew was he was glad his friend had them now.


    The Shielder took her weapons and searched her for more, finding nearly a dozen other blades hidden in various parts of her body. She had come prepared. When he was satisfied that she had been completely disarmed, he fastened the manacles behind her back.


    Egnever released whatever spell held her, and she collapsed to the ground, face first. She made no attempt to right herself, though she could have sat up if she wanted to. Instead, she kept her face buried in the dirt. Aeolwyn thought he could hear her softly sobbing.


    He turned back to Egnever. ¡°Is this your doing?¡± he asked, gesturing around them. ¡°Did we get teleported?¡±


    Egnever shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Yes. When I saw that you were in trouble, I cast a spell to teleport us all to a safe place, only I don¡¯t recognize where we are. It¡¯s not my safe haven.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    ¡°It¡¯s called the Recall spell,¡± Egnever said. ¡°You¡¯re meant to tag a place you find safe, and when you cast the spell, you are recalled to the place that you tagged. Only this isn¡¯t it.¡±


    ¡°It sure doesn¡¯t look like a brothel to me,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    He heard the assassin snort and Galafar chuckled. He was afraid that he might upset Egnever with the dig, but the mage laughed out loud. It was the first time Aeolwyn had seen a smile cross his lips since they had left.


    ¡°So where are we?¡± he asked.


    Egnever shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too dark to really guess,¡± Galafar said, ¡°but I would venture that we are somewhere near the edge of the Darkwood Forest, somewhere outside of Wardenshire.¡±


    ¡°In Wickshire?¡± Aeolwyn asked in a panic. Wickshire was the land of the elves, and they were the mortal enemies of his father. They had been fighting and skirmishing across the borders for years, ever since his grandfather had stolen the Daal¡¯s arrowhead.


    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Aeolwyn said. He looked around, and realized Sefalus wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Where¡¯s my horse?¡±


    ¡°Outside the range of the spell,¡± Egnever answered.


    ¡°We have to go back! Sefalus saved my life!¡± Aeolwyn said, and he meant it. If it weren¡¯t for that horse, the assassin would have killed him. Sefalus must have smelled her lurking about and was trying to warn him that he was in danger.


    Not to mention that he reared just as she was about to strike. If he hadn¡¯t, again, Aeolwyn would be dead. Sefalus was one smart horse, and Aeolwyn needed to take care of him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t get us back,¡± Egnever said. The spell doesn¡¯t work that way. I would have needed to set another anchor at the campsite. I saw no need, so I didn¡¯t. We will have to walk.¡±


    ¡°Our best bet is to make our own way to Fort Camulan,¡± Galafar said. ¡°If we go chasing after the column, we will never reach them and will just double our journey.¡±


    Reluctantly, Aeolwyn agreed. He would have to just trust that the rest of the soldiers would take care of his horse. If not, there would be hell to pay.


    ¡°What about her?¡± Galafar asked.


    Aeolwyn sat down next to her and gently stroked her hair. She pulled away from his touch, and finally sat up. She looked at him with hateful eyes. If she had been crying, he saw no evidence of it.


    ¡°We won¡¯t hurt you,¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Who sent you?¡± Egnever demanded.


    Aeolwyn glared at him and shook his head. Egnever raised his hands up and backed away. He headed over to the dead bandits and picked through their things. Galafar joined him. Neither seemed to be interested in finding any gold or jewelry, and their weapons were poorly made. No match for the equipment they already had.


    ¡°Were you with them?¡± he asked softly.


    ¡°No,¡± she answered. ¡°I don¡¯t know who they are.¡±


    ¡°How are you called?¡±


    ¡°My name is Reiva,¡± she said. ¡°I was sent to kill you.¡±


    He recognized her accent almost immediately. There had been many messengers and ambassadors from down south who spoke in much the same fashion as she did.


    ¡°You¡¯re Tambrynese?¡± he asked, ignoring the obvious question for now. She would be traveling with them; he had already decided that. There would be plenty of time to find out who had sent her to kill him. If he were to guess, it would be the Star Children.


    She nodded. It was unusual to have a Tambrynese so far north, but not unheard of. What was unusual was a woman of her color. As he understood it from her father, among the Tambrynese, dark skin was the sign of nobility. What would a dark skinned Tambrynese noble be doing playing assassin?


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± he said. ¡°Are you of noble blood?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I was born on Gavinholm Isle.¡±


    That was more sensible. While darker skin was uncommon in Camulan and Tambryne, it was not uncommon elsewhere. Maybe she fled from Gavinholm and expected better treatment in Tambryne because of the association of nobility her darker skin would provide her.


    ¡°Things didn¡¯t work out for you there?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Are you thirsty? I think Galafar has a water flask.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said.


    ¡°Alright.¡± He wanted to keep prodding, but he thought it was better to try to build some trust between them first. He didn¡¯t think a full interrogation would be beneficial to them right now. There was plenty of time to find out more. It would do them no good to know who had hired her. They couldn¡¯t do anything about it now anyway, who else besides the Star Children wanted him dead?


    Just as he stood, the other two returned. Galafar was empty handed save for a few cloaks and a satchel of food. The cloaks were only slightly stained with blood.


    Egnever had a small piece of paper which he handed to Aeolwyn. He unfolded it to a shock. Inside there were no words, just a single picture: A crude, hand drawn sketch of him. There was no mistaking the likeness, despite the poor drawing.


    ¡°Each of them had one,¡± Egnever said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°I¡¯m saying that a lot, and I don¡¯t like it. Reiva said she didn¡¯t know these men. If the Star Children sent her, who sent them?¡± He gestured at the three corpses.


    ¡°Reiva?¡±


    He nodded at the assassin, who was trying to make herself comfortable despite the manacles. ¡°Her,¡± he said.


    ¡°The Star Children sent her?¡± Egnever asked.


    ¡°They must have,¡± he answered. ¡°You saw her in action. Who else but the Star Children would be able to afford someone with such skill?¡±


    Egnever shook his head. He didn¡¯t say anything, but the thoughtful look in his eyes made Aeolwyn think he might have a suspicion. In his mind, there was probably a long list of people who would want a prince dead. He wasn¡¯t wrong, but how many of them would have the money?


    Galafar handed each of them a cloak. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s something. We need to rest. We¡¯ve got a long walk ahead of us.¡±


    Aeolwyn agreed, though he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d sleep much tonight. ¡°You two rest. I¡¯ll take first watch.¡±


    As much as he dreaded guard duty, someone had to do it.


    ***


    Fraius helped carry the bodies of the dead bandits away from the camp. He recognized one of them as the intermediary that he had paid to conduct this raid. As clever as would be expected for a bandit of low intelligence, he had the bag of gold Fraius had paid him in his pocket. Fraius took the opportunity to reimburse himself after making sure the intermediary was dead. Being disguised as a soldier had its benefits.


    He had seen everything. Every night they camped, he made sure to set up his tent in a location where he could keep a close eye on the young prince, and tonight was no exception. He had seen that dark-skinned woman sneaking around Aeolwyn¡¯s tent before trying to stab him when the boy went out to attend to his horse. It would have worked if not for the horse alerting him.


    He knew that girl was going to be trouble. The fact that they had the same goal in mind was immaterial. If she managed to assassinate him before Fraius got his chance, Lord Longinus would not be pleased. If whoever had sent the woman stood up and took credit for the assassination, that would weaken the Order¡¯s position.


    He would have to keep an eye on her if he could find her again. It seemed ridiculous that he would have to protect the prince from her, only to kill the boy himself, but that was what Longinus expected, and he would obey.


    The bandits chose to attack when the boy was in the middle of fighting the assassin. Poor timing on their part. He would have preferred it if they had waited until later to storm the camp when everyone would be asleep. Then Fraius could have snuck into the boy¡¯s tent while appearing to fight the bandits and run him through. Sadly, that wasn¡¯t the case.


    Instead, someone had shown up and teleported Aeolwyn, that Shielder friend of his, the assassin, and three bandits off to who knew where. That was going to complicate things. Longinus wouldn¡¯t accept this failure.


    They had already sent search parties out for the prince. They weren¡¯t going to find him. If Fraius were any judge of magic, and he was, despite his lack of ability in it, the prince was many miles away. Possibly even leagues away.


    Fraius on the other hand had other options. Since he apparently was the only one that had actually seen what happened to the prince, he knew where to look. Even if he had no skill in magic, one of his disguised associates did, and had been sent over to the tent to examine it. His associate, Child Nimbulus said that as long as the spell¡¯s Essence hadn¡¯t faded, he was certain he could find out where they went.


    It was time to rethink his strategy. He and Nimbulus would be leaving the camp, though he would give orders for the rest to remain. They would be more useful among the soldiers than they would be on Fraius¡¯ quest to find Aeolwyn. The boy might think himself safe, but he would soon find out how wrong he was.

 16: Recovering From Plans Gone Awry

    Alfyn crumpled up the message and threw it into the fire as soon as he finished reading it. His father was already angry at him. No reason to make him angrier still. The king was deep into his drink as he was frequently as of late and prone to fly into a rage at any moment. He had already beaten a stablehand this morning. Alfyn didn¡¯t want to be next.


    The assassin had failed. A group of bandits raided the camp right when she had made her attempt, and Aeolwyn had been teleported away. To safety he assumed. Alfyn could only presume that General Alaric had assigned a group of people to look after his brother. A traveling prince was a high-profile target. It was wise to be cautious with that sort of cargo.


    By failing, Reiva had signed her own death warrant; Alfyn didn¡¯t tolerate failure. Now that the attempt had been made, there was no possible way Aeolwyn and General Alaric wouldn¡¯t be on alert. Another attempt would be impossible.


    As calmly as he could, he sat at the table by the window and poured himself some wine. The servants had brought a good vintage today, and he was glad for it. Especially when he had to deal with an angry king storming into his room first thing in the morning. He was still in his smallclothes!


    ¡°You sent an assassin after my son!¡± The king shouted.


    Alfyn didn¡¯t know how the king found out. He and Reiva had been very discreet. Alfyn made certain he wasn¡¯t followed and had the meeting place scoured for potential informants before his arrival. Perhaps one of his associates he thought was trustworthy wasn¡¯t. He would be finding out.


    The message he received was from one of Alfyn¡¯s spies, not the king¡¯s. It had arrived just before his father did. Alfyn had nearly jumped out of his own skin when the door slammed open. He had barely unrolled the note when his father arrived.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± Alfyn protested. He was lying of course. It was exactly like that. There was really no way that he could explain his way out of this one. His father knew exactly what he had done, and he was furious. Even if he had stressed over and over that Alfyn needed to do something about potential political rivals, he wasn¡¯t allowed to act.


    ¡°When you are king you can do as you please, but as I am still king, you will do as I say.¡± He said. ¡°You have not sent an assassin after me, have you?¡±


    ¡°No, father,¡± Alfyn said sheepishly.


    That was a thing he hadn¡¯t even considered before. He took the throne after his father¡¯s death, assuming, of course, the nobles confirmed him as the legitimate heir. He saw no reason that they wouldn¡¯t. Especially if he gave them incentives to do so.


    But would they if his father died under suspicious circumstances? Not necessarily. If he were to actually murder his father to gain the throne, it would have to be by a method that was beyond suspicion. Like a hunting accident. Or a long-term illness. Or from an assassination attempt by the Star Children.


    He filed those thoughts away for later. Despite his desire for the throne, he still loved his father, in his own way. He didn¡¯t like the man, but he respected him and his ability to carefully navigate the ins and outs of making the nobles happy.


    ¡°Son, regicide is a dangerous thing,¡± his father continued. ¡°If a member of the royal family is killed under suspicious circumstances, the first place they look is at the surviving family members. Especially which of them has something to gain from it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, father,¡± Alfyn answered. Was his father giving him advice on how to murder him? Not deliberately, he didn¡¯t think. His father was just always trying to give him advice on what it was like to be king.


    They often had these sorts of conversations. Not on regicide, but on the practical matters of running a kingdom, from navigating the politics of the nobility, to the importance of making sure the peasant sanitation workers are happy. And now how to kill your family members without the populace believing you did it.


    His father came and stood close to him. His large gut just brushing the front of Alfyn¡¯s dress shirt. He refused to step back no matter how uncomfortable the closeness made him feel. These were his apartments after all. His father was the one who barged in in a fury.


    ¡°I know I told you Aeolwyn could be dangerous to your rule, but I had that issue well handled. Getting him out of the Teorton is enough. Fort Camulan is too far away for him to exert any influence in the city.¡±


    Alfyn wasn¡¯t so sure about that. It was an important fort close to the enemy¡¯s borders. It wasn¡¯t a place you sent someone to keep them out of the way. There were active skirmishes all along the border with the Fenns. There was a lot of glory to be had in those battles.


    A lot of danger as well, however.


    ¡°What of the others?¡± Alfyn asked. He did, after all, have other siblings besides Aeolwyn. Any one of them could be just as dangerous as Aeolwyn, given the right opportunity.


    ¡°Your brothers are your biggest worry,¡± the king said. ¡°They take precedence over your sisters should anything happen to you. Wolfryn will be loyal. I don¡¯t think you will have much worry about him getting drunk with power. Ulfnar could be a threat if he were ever interested in more than whoring and gambling.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Ulfnar did have a kind of roguish charm to him that many people found endearing. Charm only took a person so far with the nobles, however. They could see through such things. They wanted a king who would look out for their interests as well as his own.


    ¡°Was that why Ulfnar took the blame?¡± Alfyn asked.


    ¡°Yes. You need him to be viewed as childish and untrustworthy. Though, to be honest, I don¡¯t think he has any interest in the throne. He just wants the privilege being a royal offers him.¡±


    That was true, and he was locked up safe in his apartments, not even allowed visitors. His father had even banished him from the family dinner. A lucky thing, if Alfyn were honest. None of them liked the family dinner.


    His mind kept sending him back to the Fenns and the troubles they had been having with that border. Based on all reports the skirmishes there were increasing. That would be a good opportunity to put Aeolwyn in harm¡¯s way.


    ¡°If Aeolwyn is no danger to my claim, being so far away from Teorton, then we should encourage him to want to stay there,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps we should give him more responsibility when he arrives?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± his father agreed. ¡°Having to take orders from those beneath you is no position for a royal to be.¡±


    He presented his father his ideas on how to give Aeolwyn more responsibility. His father was surprised at his change of heart. Mostly because he failed to see the risks his brother would be facing. Giving a 12-year-old that much responsibility would only put him in one place: the ground. Exactly where Alfyn wanted him to be.


    ***


    The raid on the camp had been nothing but trouble. The company had to spend three extra days cleaning up and tending to the wounded. The village elders had not been happy about it, and cost Alaric more than just time. If these sorts of things kept happening, he would run out of gold before they got to Fort Camulan.


    The bandit raid was a bold one. They were outnumbered 10 to 1 and still they attacked. He hadn¡¯t understood it until they went through the pockets of one of them and found a crudely drawn sketch of a young boy. He didn¡¯t have to guess who it was. It bore more than a passing resemblance to the young prince, who was now missing.


    The flap to his tent opened up and Captain Flint came in. He was the one Alaric put in charge of cleaning up after the bandit raid. For the last few hours he had been examining the grounds and figuring out what happened.


    ¡°Sir,¡± the captain said curtly and saluted.


    ¡°Well?¡± He asked. Alaric was not in a pleasant mood. The bandit attack unnerved him and the fact that Aeolwyn had vanished during it upset him. If the king found out he¡¯d lost the prince, it was more than just retirement that was in store for him. He would have a neck stretching to look forward to.


    He was neither royal nor noble, so if it came to an execution, he wouldn¡¯t be provided the honor and dignity of a beheading. No, he would be hanged like any common criminal. He would fall on his sword before he let that happen.


    ¡°The cleanup is nearly complete. As per your orders, we have dug a large pit away from the village¡¯s fields, and away from their water supply. The last of the bandits has been dumped and we are now filling the hole back up.¡±


    ¡°What of our losses?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Twelve, sir. Two dead and ten injured.¡±


    He was thankful that the casualty list was that short. Considering many men were with drink, and almost none in armor during the fight, it could have been much, much worse. He would have the remains of the two soldiers preserved and returned to their families. The injured who couldn¡¯t walk could ride on the wagons with the women.


    ¡°What of the prince?¡±


    Flint shifted uneasily. He knew that losing Aeolwyn was extremely bad news for everyone involved. It wasn¡¯t only the general¡¯s neck that might be stretched.


    ¡°We are unsure of what happened,¡± Flint finally said. ¡°We haven¡¯t found a body or any trace of him. His tent and horse were still in camp.¡±


    ¡°He couldn¡¯t have deserted then,¡± Alaric said. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have left his horse. Could he have been taken?¡±


    Flint shrugged, looking lustfully at the water jug on the table behind Alaric. It had been a busy few days and there had been little chance for eating or drinking. Alaric considered offering him a cup but dismissed it. He was furious that this had happened, despite all the guards he¡¯d ordered to be camped near the king¡¯s son. The inability to keep Aeolwyn safe was as much their failure as it was his.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell because of the mess the battle made of any tracks, but I don¡¯t think so. According to our reports, he was there and then he wasn¡¯t.¡±


    That was peculiar and suggested to Alaric that magic had been involved. A teleportation spell perhaps? If so, that didn¡¯t discount the possibility that he had been kidnapped. ¡°Is anyone else unaccounted for?¡±


    ¡°Just two. Galafar and Egnever.¡±


    ¡°Those two are his friends, are they not?¡±


    Even more strange. If he were kidnapped, why would his captors bring those two along?


    ¡°More or less, sir. Galafar seems to be obsessed with his care since the incident with the goblins. But by all accounts, Egnever¡¯s opinion of the boy has soured.¡±


    He had heard that. Egnever had been exiled for the same reasons as Aeolwyn. If that had happened to Alaric, he would not be pleased about it either. Egnever was a mage. Could he have had a hand in it?


    ¡°Have the area scanned for magic residue,¡± he said. ¡°And I want a search party sent after him.¡±


    Flint nodded. ¡°What of the other two?¡±


    ¡°I am betting the three of them are together. Once you have your search party, prepare the army to move.¡±


    Flint¡¯s face looked shocked. ¡°We¡¯re not staying?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve overstayed our welcome as it is, captain. And we can¡¯t wait any longer besides. The Fenns could be attacking as we speak, and I¡¯d rather be the one in charge there. Dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± Flint said and left the tent.


    Alaric was extremely troubled by this whole thing. He prayed Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t dead. On the bright side, a target such as the prince had much more value as a captive than he did as a corpse. But if he were kidnapped, who could have done it? It wasn¡¯t just a random attack. The bandits had known who their target was, and they knew where the army would be.


    It was true that they hadn¡¯t made a secret of the prince coming along with the army. Making his departure public was a condition of his exile. But who else besides the Star Children would have had motive to attack? If it were them, wouldn¡¯t they just send one of their own? Why would they hire mercenaries for the task when they were more than capable.


    He also couldn¡¯t discount the possibility that Egnever had done it. His dislike of Aeolwyn was well known, and he was a mage. If magic were involved, he was a likely suspect. But Alaric didn¡¯t think Egnever would resort to murdering the prince and had little to gain from a ransom.


    He shook his head and started to gather his things. They were moving on today, and the soldiers weren¡¯t the only ones who needed to prepare.

 17: The Soothsayer

    Egnever healed the deep cut in Aeolwyn¡¯s arm, and inadvertently healed his saddle sores also. He was glad that he didn¡¯t have to ask the mage to heal them. They had been so painful that even walking had started to become a chore. Now, he felt like a new man.


    After some reconnaissance, they all widely agreed that they were in Wickshire and had planned a route through the forest that would avoid any of the elvish towns. Even village elves were wary of outsiders, and especially humans. If they, as humans, got caught on this side of the border, their deaths were all but certain.


    For the last three days they hadn¡¯t seen a single soul, save for squirrels, a rabbit, and a few deer. They were all very cognizant that the elvish population of Wickshire wasn¡¯t their only danger. Goblins, and worse were known to prowl anywhere humans weren¡¯t.


    Aeolwyn had taken to speaking to Reiva as often as he could. Neither Egnever nor Galafar approved, but he felt it was their best chance to get the information they wanted from her without resorting to something distasteful like torture. No matter how much he wanted to know who sent her, he refused to even consider torture.


    So far, she hadn¡¯t revealed much information. She still claimed to be from Gavinholm Isle and ended up in Camulan by way of Tambryne. He didn¡¯t entirely believe that, though it was a plausible answer. There was something about her accent that sounded a little off. If she were from Gavinholm Isle, she would still bear slight traces of that accent, and hers was 100% Tambrynese


    She admitted to following the caravan of soldiers immediately after their departure from Teorton, but would say nothing else, save for agreeing that was where she was hired. He didn¡¯t pressure her for the information and hoped that his efforts to build up her trust would reward them in the end. If not, they would either have to kill her or turn her over to General Alaric¡¯s men for questioning, and he didn¡¯t want to do either of those things.


    He wasn¡¯t sure why. She had attempted to kill him, and by all rights he should just put his knife through her and be done with it. But there was something about her that softened his heart. Her acrobatic skill with a blade suggested there was more to her than a simple assassin.


    At the end of the days¡¯ march, they didn¡¯t have much camp to set up, so he and Galafar spent a good deal of time practicing sword forms and sparring against each other. Galafar asked where he had gotten such a fine sword and what he had named it. He was embarrassed to tell him that it didn¡¯t have a name.


    Like horses, all the best swords had names, from Arfyl¡¯s Fire to Antraitul to Kalibar. If he wanted to be a warrior that people told stories about, his sword would have to have a name as well. He thought on it but hadn¡¯t been able to come up with something he liked.


    Aeolwyn had countered that all the named swords he knew of were magical, and his was not. Therefore, his sword shouldn¡¯t have a name. Galafar told him that its lack of enchantment shouldn¡¯t preclude it from having a name and that if Aeolwyn didn¡¯t name it, Galafar would.


    So, he was thinking of a name.


    They came upon the ruins on the fifth day, near what they judged to be the border of Wickshire and Camulan. They couldn¡¯t say for certain where it was, so they had to guess. They knew that the Darkwood Forest ran along most of the length of the border but thinned out as it went southeast.


    As they cleared the last of the forest, they came into a region of rolling hills. If they had properly kept their heading, they were in an area known as the Torfenn Hills. As they traveled further south, they would come upon the Camulan Plains, and they would be out of Wickshire for certain.


    In all the maps of the region Sir Jom had made him study, there was no mention of any ruins like this, and he had studied them a lot. His mentor insisted that he know every inch of terrain where he might end up fighting the kingdom¡¯s enemies. Something as important as the ruins of an old city would seem to be important enough to notate on a map.


    Large pillars and towers erupted from the earth like giant stone trees. Based on their sizes, they descended extremely deep into the earth. Large vines worked their way up the moss-covered structures, covering them in shadow, even in the noonday sun.


    ¡°Who built these?¡± Reiva sked in wonder.


    Aeolwyn was just as awed. Even though the stones weren¡¯t as clean or as beautiful as the stone structures in Teorton, the scale of them was unbelievable. He could have fit ten of his father¡¯s palace inside the courtyard that the pillars marked out.


    ¡°We did,¡± Galafar said. He had his face right up to one of the pillars and was staring intently at it. One finger wiggled its way through the fine mortar line. The stone, where it was not covered by moss and vine was pitted and pock-marked from years of neglect.


    Egnever shot him a glance. ¡°What do you mean we?¡±


    ¡°I mean men. This is neither elven nor dwarven construction techniques. Whoever made them, they were human.¡±


    Aeolwyn walked to the far side of the building, where a vine-covered square stone box erupted from the dirt. It bore a resemblance to the square stone houses that many peasants favored, but it had no thatched roof. Instead, it had a flat roof made from stone. Though weathered, the stone was still in fairly good shape, and the mortar joints were intact.


    As he walked around the structure, he had a sense of foreboding. It wasn¡¯t exactly a feeling of impending doom like when the Star Children had caught him. More like a sensation of things to come. Destiny may have been the right word, but it didn¡¯t quite fit. It felt more like destiny, but only if a thousand things went right.


    It was then he found the opening. It was hidden among the crawling vines and shadows. If he hadn¡¯t been running his hand along the pitted stone, he would never have found it.


    ¡°There¡¯s a door here. Should we go in? Maybe there¡¯s treasure inside!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the stupidest idea I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± Reiva said. ¡°Unless you want to get killed.¡±


    Egnever shot her a glance, ¡°No one asked you,¡± he said.


    Reiva shrugged. ¡°Your choice, but can I at least have my knives back?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Egnever said. He held out his hand, and a small blue light appeared just above it. Wielding the light like a sword, he stepped into the opening. Aeolwyn followed. Galafar was next, dragging an unwilling Reiva behind him.


    The room was small and damp, with seemingly no exits anywhere. It contained no treasure, save for the silken threads of thousands of generations of spiders. The webs covered nearly every surface, and the insects they contained created a grisly, tiny graveyard.


    ¡°Here!¡± Galafar called out, pointing to a small staircase in one corner of the room that had been hidden in shadows. The crumbling stone on the narrow stairs didn¡¯t invite a lot of confidence as they descended into the darkness, but Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t afraid. He climbed down, Egnever¡¯s light following just behind him.


    The bottom of the stairs opened up into a room. Most of it was plunged into darkness, but there seemed to be a stout wooden bench that went from one end to the other set in the middle of the room. It was slightly shorter than his shoulders and had an opening on its left. A freestanding metallic doorway framed this opening, but no door was set into it. The only other exit to the room was on the far side of the bench.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They cautiously made their way through the room. Aeolwyn kept his hand on his sword, ready to unleash it at any sign of trouble. He wasn¡¯t sure what good it would do in these closed quarters, but it made him feel better to hold it.


    Galafar stopped and took a peculiar interest in the metal doorway. He paused as he walked through it, running his hand along its smooth rust-free surface. At its base there appeared to be some kind of thick, rope-like device coming out of it that disappeared into the wooden half-wall. Galafar tugged on it, but it was fastened tightly to whatever it connected to inside the wall.


    ¡°This looks like Shielder work,¡± he commented.


    The next room was as empty as the first two. It appeared that if they had come here looking for treasure, they were going to be sorely disappointed. It was of a similar size to the previous room, only instead of a half-wall running the length of the room there was a stout table in its middle. Along the walls were empty racks of a type he had never seen before. They were like the racks that stored swords in the palace armory, but they were strangely shaped and wouldn¡¯t hold any sword that he¡¯d seen before.


    On the wall to their right a person sized opening had been carved out of the wall. Since it was the only place to go, they all followed Aeolwyn as he entered. None spoke. Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t tell whether it was from fear of alerting any strange creatures that may inhabit the place or for other reasons.


    The next room was beyond Aeolwyn¡¯s understanding. It was square and made of stone like the others but had been filled with furniture of unknown use. Along one wall was something that looked akin to a cabinet, though there were no doors. It was made of a material he couldn¡¯t identify. It was smooth and polished to a shine like the metal doorway but didn¡¯t feel like metal to the touch. It was stiff but gave way slightly under enough pressure, then would spring back to its original form.


    Where the doors should have been, was instead a series of panels with strange colored crystals on them. In some places the panels had been shattered and a mess of thin colored strings showed through. Inside the hole in the cabinet, Aeolwyn could see what appeared to be glass bottles attached to a green plate with black bits and bobs surrounding it. The bits appeared to be connected to the surface of the plate with thin metal wire like what his chainmail shirt was made of, only much thinner. Thinner than even the best jeweler could make.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Egnever whispered.


    The rest of the cabinets were made of a similar material to this one, only instead of a series of tiny colored jewels, they only had a square piece of glass that looked like a windowpane, excepting that it was completely opaque.


    ¡°It¡¯s some sort of a Shielder outpost,¡± Galafar said. He pointed to a strange sigil on one of the panels. ¡°I¡¯ve seen this before.¡±


    The sigil, engraved into one of the end panels appeared to be a heraldic shield with a pair of globes connected by a series of lines in its center. Aeolwyn had never seen such a shield before. It wasn¡¯t one that the Shielders now used.


    They heard some rustling in the next room. Before Aeolwyn even realized it, his sword was out of its scabbard. The dagger was in his other hand. Slowly he walked through the opening. A fire burst forth in the center of the room forcing him to shield his eyes from the sudden light.


    Whatever the room had contained before was all smashed beyond recognition. In one corner was a dirty bedroll with equally dirty blankets. Scattered around the room were a variety of glass vials and cups that held various liquids.


    Animal carcasses tied by leather strings hung from the ceiling. Some of them swayed slightly as though moved by an unseen breeze. A half-eaten meal lay between the fire and the bedroll.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± a thin, raspy voice said.


    Aeolwyn spun towards the voice, and out of the darkness, a tall thin man appeared. Behind his thick beard, his wrinkled skin gave his face a gaunt appearance. The long hair on his head had thinned to almost non-existence, making his pointed ears more prominent than usual.


    ¡°An Elf!¡± Galafar said, stunned.


    Aeolwyn had never seen an elf before; he had only seen images of them in the tapestries in the palace. He didn¡¯t know what to expect when seeing one in person, but this creature wasn¡¯t it. Elves were supposed to be tall, thin, and gallant in appearance. They were said to have eternally smooth skin and dressed in elegant silk gowns, not tattered robes like this man had.


    ¡°Fear nothing from me,¡± he said. ¡°You may stow your weapons.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Aeolwyn asked, ¡°What is this place?¡±


    ¡°I am called Xabat,¡± the elf said. He gestured around the room. ¡°As for this place, I don¡¯t know. It was destroyed when I moved in.¡±


    ¡°You live here?¡± Reiva asked. ¡°Why?¡±


    Xabat chuckled. ¡°I had nowhere else to go. I was run out of Wardenshire after the Daal lost the A¡¯Lon¡¯co¡¯kal.¡± The elf paused before saying, ¡°The Holy Arrow.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a Daal?¡± Galafar asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s the king of the elves,¡± Aeolwyn said. He was suddenly glad that Sir Jom made him study more than just the sword. ¡°You knew the Daal?¡±


    ¡°Indeed I did,¡± Xabat answered. ¡°Or, I should say, I knew his father, the previous Daal. After your grandfather tool the Holy Arrow from him.¡±


    Aeolwyn was suddenly alarmed. He tightened his grip on his sword and pointed it at the elf¡¯s chest. ¡°You know who I am?¡±


    ¡°Of course. You are Aeolwyn, son of Llarwyn. I know all of you. I wouldn¡¯t be much of a soother if I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°A soother?¡± Reiva asked.


    ¡°A folk magician,¡± Egnever answered.


    Xabat grinned, showing long teeth, a few of which had been sharpened to a point. ¡°Not exactly,¡± he answered, ¡°But close enough.¡±


    Galafar came to stand beside Aeolwyn. He didn¡¯t think he needed support of this went badly, but he was glad for it. Something about his friend standing close to him gave him courage.


    ¡°Sooth us then,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    Xabat nodded, stretching out his arms. He suddenly glared at Egnever, staring at him intently. Egnever stood his ground, staring back angrily at the old elf.


    ¡°Egnever of House Thaed, do not despair. You are exactly where you are meant to be.¡±


    Egnever¡¯s mouth dropped open. Though everyone except for Reiva knew of his displeasure at his current situation, there was no reason for Xabat to have known. It seemed to be only a passing comment, but his friend looked unsettled at hearing it.


    Xabat ignored the shocked look on Egnever¡¯s face. Instead, he turned to Reiva, only giving her a passing glance. She hid from his gaze, trying to disappear into the shadows. It made no difference. She could not hide from the soother.


    ¡°Reiva of the Spires,¡± he started. Aeolwyn thought he heard her gasp. ¡°Your cousin¡¯s actions will not rule you forever. One day, you shall take the ring.¡±


    Ring? What ring? What were the Spires? That was not on any map Aeolwyn had ever studied. He realized that despite all his conversations with her the last few days, he knew absolutely nothing about her. He stared at her as though seeing her in a new light.


    She had stepped from the shadows, mouth agape. In the flickering light of the fire, he suddenly realized how strikingly beautiful she was. Her soft cheekbones framed her deep brown eyes. Eyes he could get lost in.


    She stared at him. He looked quickly away, realizing what he was doing. She couldn¡¯t be beautiful. She was an assassin sent to kill him. One day soon he would have to make the hard decision of whether to interrogate her or kill her. He didn¡¯t want to, but they needed to know not just who wanted him dead, but how it was she was hired.


    ¡°Who hired her to kill me?¡± Aeolwyn asked suddenly. Maybe if Xabat told him she wouldn¡¯t have to.


    Xabat frowned, looking angry. He brought his shoulders up, making him look taller. He was already much taller than Aeolwyn. Now he absolutely towered over him. The prince took a step back. He hoped it wasn¡¯t about to get violent. He was starting to like this old elf. He didn¡¯t want to have to kill him.


    ¡°My comments are for the listener alone,¡± he said. ¡°Her secrets are hers to keep.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± Galafar asked, gesturing to Aeolwyn.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Xabat responded. His face relaxed and he seemed to shrink, reverting to his normal height. His gaze fixed on Galafar.


    ¡°Galafar, son of Boreon, though you may live long, you will never gain the acceptance you seek in the hall of your people.¡±


    Galafar suddenly stumbled and collapsed to the floor as though struck. His sword clattered to the stones as he hid his face in his hands. He was weeping.


    Xabat turned to Aeolwyn.


    ¡°Aeolwyn, son of Llarwn-¡°


    ¡°Stop!¡± Aeolwyn cried. He looked at the shocked and saddened faces of his companions. Whatever his future held for him, he would face it when it came. Having foreknowledge of it would not change whatever came. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know,¡± he said.


    Xabat nodded. ¡°The wisest of all of your companions,¡± he said. ¡°Just a warning then.¡±


    That sounded safe enough. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Have a care,¡± Xabat said. ¡°You are being followed by someone much more dangerous than her.¡± He gestured to Reiva, who was doing her best to console Galafar. She tried to help him to his feet but the manacles made it difficult.


    ¡°Who? Who is following us?¡±


    Xabat just smiled and retreated into the shadows. As the darkness covered his face, the fire suddenly went out, leaving the Aeolwyn and his friends groping in the darkness. Egnever¡¯s light had gone out, and he couldn¡¯t relight it. They were forced to blindly make their way back out of the ruins.


    Reiva leaned close to him as they climbed the narrow stairs and whispered, ¡°No one kills you but me.¡±


    Even though her comment should terrify him, somehow, he found comfort in it instead.

 18: An Assassin Revealed

    After their experience with the soothsayer, they didn¡¯t explore any more of the ruins they came across. Not that they found many, but there were a few. Only one looked like the Shielder Outpost they had visited and they decided to give that one a wide birth.


    They had been traveling for nearly two weeks and Galafar insisted that they were only a few days away from the fort now. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure what he felt about that. He was sad, nervous, and excited all at the same time.


    They stopped for a rest in a small grotto near a creek. Galafar had gathered some nuts and Aeolwyn had managed to catch a rabbit. Such was their fare for most of the trip. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure how much weight he had lost, but it was enough that Reiva commented on it.


    Galafar was unusually silent most of the trip, and Aeolwyn didn¡¯t blame him. The elf had let strong imprints on each of them, even Aeolwyn, though he chose not to hear the predictions. He kept wondering who was following me?


    Of the four of them Egnever seemed to be the least affected. He said that he was trying to reframe his whole existence to make himself believe that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He said that since he couldn¡¯t change his situation, the best thing to do was to change his perception of it.


    Aeolwyn brought some of the cooked rabbit and nuts to Reiva when they stopped and sat down beside her. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but the pressing question of who hired her seemed less important now. The question that nagged his brain was about the Spires.


    ¡°What are the Spires?¡± he asked. He handed her a share of the rabbit and nuts. She took them from him and began eating as best she could with her hands manacled together. She dropped some of the meat, but he was there to pick it up and hand it back to her.


    ¡°My secrets are my own,¡± she said. ¡°The soothsayer said so.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°But he meant that he wouldn¡¯t reveal secrets that weren¡¯t his. You are under no such obligation.¡±


    She said nothing. She continued to eat as though he weren¡¯t there watching her. Even now, manacled, with a mouthful of food and grease running down her chin, she was alluring. He shook himself out of it. He couldn¡¯t be attracted to an assassin. What would his mother say?


    ¡°Clearly it¡¯s the place you¡¯re from,¡± he said. ¡°And that¡¯s not Gavinholm Isle. That belongs to the Fenns, and they¡¯re our enemy. Sir Jom made me study it. There is no place known as the Spires.¡±


    She just stared at him, chewing. There was a fire in her eyes that he didn¡¯t remember seeing before. Was it anger because he caught her in a lie?


    ¡°I¡¯m not telling you,¡± she said, gesturing for him to sit. ¡°But I will give you this: It¡¯s not the name of a place. It¡¯s not even the nickname of a place. It¡¯s a building, and it¡¯s profoundly beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he answered. That was at least something to go on. He was bound to find someone who knew what the Spires were. Even if she didn¡¯t, they would tell him all that he needed to know about it.


    He knew now that she had lied about being from Gavinholm Isle. Why did she have reason to lie about her origin? Did it have something to do with her cousin and whatever ring Xabat had been talking about?


    Of course, that was irrelevant to the task at hand. He still needed to know who sent her, and though it was less important to him now, General Alaric would want to know and would be willing to torture her to get it out of her.


    He couldn¡¯t let that happen. Could he invoke his right as Prince of the Realm to override an interrogation? He wasn¡¯t sure. It had been made very clear that as far as the general was concerned, he was just like any other soldier. But the reality of that matter was that he wasn¡¯t just like any other soldier. He was a prince, and that would always carry power with it.


    ¡°I wish you would trust me,¡± she said as he sat down. ¡°These manacles are painful.¡±


    ¡°I want to,¡± Aeolwyn said, ¡°but you were sent to kill me, and keep reminding me every chance you get.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I know you¡¯re trying to get me to trust you enough to tell you who sent me, but trust works both ways.¡±


    ¡°If you want that trust, you¡¯re going to have to earn it,¡± Egnever said, stuffing a bit of rabbit thigh into his mouth.


    She leaned forward. ¡°You want trust?¡± she asked. ¡°Ok. Even with these manacles on, I could have killed all three of you a hundred times over.¡±


    She stood up and held the manacles in front of her. She twisted her hands around against each other, shook her wrists and the manacles fell off. They landed on the grass with a soft thump. She stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Egnever.


    The mage stood, hands already glowing as he prepared a spell. Aeolwyn got between both of them before they did something one of them would regret. Only one of them because the other would probably be dead.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Something whooshed past Aeolwyn and landed in Egnever¡¯s shoulder with a thunk. He screamed out and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Before Aeolwyn could run to his friend, a dozen battle cries sounded and men plunged into their grotto.


    Aeolwyn¡¯s sword was in his hand before he even realized it. Reiva was at his side, another pair of daggers in her hand. Where had she gotten those? Galafar was too far away to have tossed them to her. She must have had another set hidden that Galafar didn¡¯t find. Crafty woman.


    Two pair of men went straight for Aeolwyn. They were dressed in the same outfits the bandits that attacked the army camp had been wearing. Some of the outfits bore bloodstains already, though the men didn¡¯t appear to be injured.


    In a flash, Reiva went to work. While Aeolwyn took on the first pair of bandits, she catapulted over them and attacked the second pair. Her daggers flashed as she swung at them. He lost sight of her after that.


    The first bandit made a sloppy overhand chop that Aeolwyn was able to duck under before plunging his blade into the man¡¯s chest. The second one slashed at his chest while Aeolwyn was still pulling the sword out of the first victim. He blocked the attack with his left-hand dagger.


    The force of the blow felt like it shattered his arm. He was holding the dagger in a reverse grip, and though the knife stopped his arm from being chopped off, it did nothing to protect his arm from the force of the slash.


    He twisted away from the attack and swung his sword low at his attacker¡¯s feet. The bandit leapt over his blade and countered with a slash of his own, aimed at Aeolwyn¡¯s head. Aeolwyn knelt down while gracefully transitioning his blade into an overhead parry.


    His opponent¡¯s blade shattered when it made contact with Aeolwyn¡¯s, spraying shards of it at his face. Aeolwyn rolled along the grass but felt a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder where a fragment of the blade found a home.


    In the middle of his roll, he slashed up at his enemy, striking him between the legs. The man crumpled to the floor like a dropped sack of wheat. Before Aeolwyn could finish the man off, a third bandit was already on top of him.


    Aeolwyn ducked his attack and rolled to his feet, keeping his sword out in front of him in a defensive position. Like Reiva, his opponent was armed with a pair of sharp daggers. Shock filled him as he recognized his attacker. There was no way he wouldn¡¯t know that beaked nose and smarmy expression.


    ¡°You¡¯re from the Star Children,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re Child Fraius!¡±


    Child Fraius grinned with a smile that didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°I am glad you recognize me. Now you can tell the gods who it was who killed you.¡±


    Fraius attacked with the speed of a lunging snake, his two blades whirling. Aeolwyn¡¯s sword and dagger were no match for the flashing blades of his opponent. He could do nothing but give ground to the onslaught.


    ¡°I must admit boy, you have some skill. Most would be dead already.¡±


    Aeolwyn said nothing. He knew a taunt when he heard one. Sir Jom had taught him all about them, as well as various other ways to off-balance his opponent. Also, he wasn¡¯t quick enough to think of a witty reply, being too busy trying not to be killed.


    Then, like a flash of night, Reiva arrived, landing in front of him and slashing at Fraius. Taken by surprise, the Star Child didn¡¯t have a defense prepared. His daggers were cut from his hands and then Reiva buried a dagger in his belly. So much for the idea that the Star Children hired her.


    ¡°No one kills him but me,¡± she said, twisting the dagger. It appeared to get stuck on a bone inside the man, and before she could wrench it free, two other bandits attacked. She kicked Aeolwyn back and turned to face the two new attackers.


    He could see Galafar, next to Egnever, engaged with three of the bandits. Another two already lay on the ground, one with his face smashed from his friend¡¯s buckler. Egnever, safely behind Galafar was struggling to get to his feet. He had already snapped the arrow shaft off, leaving the remains of it in his chest. The bandits were getting the better of Galafar, and he was in danger.


    He raced to Galafar¡¯s side, slashing at the back of one of the bandits who collapsed to the ground. The two bandits scattered back, unsure of what had happened.


    ¡°To me!¡± Aeolwyn shouted. They needed to fight together. They would have a better chance against the bandits that way. If they were separated, they were much easier to kill.


    Reiva disengaged the remaining bandits and cartwheeled her way to Aeolwyn¡¯s side. Likewise, the bandits retreated and reinforced their own numbers. Looking around, the surviving bandits realized how bad they underestimated their opponents, and now that the element of surprise was gone, they had lost their advantage.


    Egnever had gotten to his feet, and his glowing hands indicated that he was preparing a spell. His face was alight with rage as he clasped his two hands together. A red ball of flame began to appear between his palms as he drew them apart.


    The bandits panicked. They turned and ran, picking up Fraius as they fled. Aeolwyn started to pursue them, but Reiva and Galafar grabbed both his arms.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Galafar said. ¡°They may have reinforcements.¡±


    The fireball that Egnever had created fizzled out and he collapsed back to the ground. Aeolwyn sheathed his weapons and went to his side. He and Reiva helped him up, and the group fled the grotto in the opposite direction the bandits went.


    ¡°All this time you¡¯ve been able to get out of the manacles?¡± Aeolwyn asked as they made for the small copse of trees that was the only concealment they could find.


    She nodded. They both struggled carrying Egnever. He was the tallest in the party, and outweighed both of them. Galafar had to come relieve Aeolwyn of the burden.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you escape?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    ¡°I wanted you to trust me,¡± she replied.


    ¡°So you can kill me?¡±


    ¡°Someday¡­¡± she trailed off as they made the copse of trees. They had left their packs and remaining provisions behind. It was going to be a difficult journey. At least Egnever was still breathing.


    ***


    As soon as he was able, Fraius shoved the men away so he could walk on his own two feet. They had retreated to their camp where one of the men was able to staunch the bleeding in his stomach. He refused to pull the dagger out though, saying the danger of bleeding out was too great.


    Damned that woman for interfering! Not only had she took him by surprise, but she had killed his one good mage. The only one with healing ability. Now they would have to make their way to the nearest village and find a healer, if any were available. They had passed one a few days ago. They couldn¡¯t explore it since their prey had given it a wide berth, but it was their only chance. He only prayed that whatever healer may live there would have enough skill to stop him from dying.


    He regretted that his best hope now was to make their way to the Fortress of Heaven in Branson¡¯s Fork. Lord Longinus would not be keen on his failure to kill Aeolwyn, and he fully intended to complete his task. He just needed time to heal and plan his next steps. It didn¡¯t matter if it took two weeks or two years. The young prince would die at his hands.

 19: Escapes and Arrivals

    The walk across the courtyard wasn¡¯t normally tiring, but today, it was exhausting. Davinya had spent another long morning with Jor Bashi. Again, he had given her an unbearable amount of post-lesson studies to complete.


    She was making good progress, however. She just hadn¡¯t realized what a huge time commitment it would be. It seemed like every waking hour that she wasn¡¯t attending to her normal duties as a princess she was studying or practicing magic, and if she didn¡¯t arrive at her next lesson prepared, Jor Bashi would have fits. His view of punishment for being unprepared was, while not sadistic, came close.


    Fortunately, she had been able to sneak off between her mother¡¯s knitting lessons and Lord Smyton¡¯s lessons on the etiquette and protocol of all the nations of Laryndor to work on her magical studies. She was lucky that she hadn¡¯t been caught yet. Nearly caught many times, but not actually caught.


    Her mother had asked her where she was hurrying off to so fast during their needlepoint appointment two days ago. She didn¡¯t have a good excuse for not staying with her mother and her ladies-in-waiting, so she had to explain that her bowels were nearly bursting, and she needed the garderobe. Fortunately, that was explanation enough for her poor mother.


    This time, it appeared, she had come and gone from her lesson without notice. She hurried through the courtyard and back into the palace. A few servants shot her strange glances, but she had bought their silence with some gold.


    Just as she took the first turn out of the entry, Alfyn strode up and began walking beside her. Her stomach dropped. Though she had been taking lessons, she was far from prepared for him if he tried to do something disgusting. She thought it best to not react as though anything out of the ordinary happened.


    ¡°Alfyn,¡± she greeted him.


    ¡°Sister,¡± he said.


    He said nothing for a while, just walked with her down the corridor standing uncomfortably close to her. If he was any closer, they would look like two lovers taking a stroll in a garden. She wanted nothing more than to break into a run and hide herself behind the nearest door.


    ¡°You know, I wonder,¡± Alfyn started. ¡°You seem to be very busy lately.¡±


    She didn¡¯t like where this was going. Had he been spying on her? That sounded like something he might do. If he had, he¡¯d been very discreet about it. Unless, of course, he had been paying someone else to do it. If a servant had to make the decision between keeping her secrets and telling her brother, well, her brother would be the king someday and she wouldn¡¯t. They still took her money though.


    ¡°I just¡­I just can¡¯t figure something out,¡± he continued. ¡°Do want to know what it is?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said coldly; a little colder than she had meant to. It didn¡¯t matter whether she wanted to or not. He was going to tell her.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand why you are going to see Jor Bashi every day.¡±


    She was caught, but that wasn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing. He did plenty of things behind their father¡¯s back that the king had expressly forbidden. She kept his secrets, so why wouldn¡¯t he keep hers? Besides, it might put a little fear into him.


    ¡°Why else would someone go see a mage?¡±


    He gave her a sly look as though he had caught her with a suitor in her bed. ¡°Father forbid you to study magic,¡± he said.


    ¡°Since when has father¡¯s opinions on things stopped you?¡± She retorted.


    He smiled but said nothing. He just kept on walking. He stopped for a minute to study a tapestry, but soon caught up with her. She wasn¡¯t going to wait for him to try to pick his favorite heroes out of the images. He didn¡¯t say what he found interesting in the tapestry. He just folded his arms behind his back and kept walking.


    ¡°You know, when I¡¯m king, I wouldn¡¯t dream of forbidding someone from studying magic. I have the mind to allow them to participate in anything that arouses their desire.¡±


    With that remark he gazed at her lustfully. She felt bile rising in her throat. If she had a dagger, she would have had to fight herself from taking it out and stabbing him in the neck right then and there, no matter the consequences.


    She suddenly wondered if studying magic would actually protect her from him. He wasn¡¯t going to use force to make her do something she didn¡¯t want to do; he was much too crafty for that. No, he would manipulate the situation so that she had no choice.


    She realized that she would have only a single option when Alfyn became king. She couldn¡¯t stay around the palace when that happened. She would have to escape. Only she had no knowledge or contacts on how to do that. She never left the palace on drunken adventures like Ulfnar did. He was the only one she could go to for advice on the matter, and he was missing. Apparently locking him up in his apartments wasn¡¯t as secure as their father thought.


    She needed to make a plan. If Aeolwyn could sneak out, so could she. But how had he done it?


    ***


    Ulfnar made it to Brigadoon¡¯s Arms after dark. He had hidden out in a root cellar for a while to make sure no one had followed him. His predilection for hanging out in the Docks was well known; anyone chasing him would search there first. He wanted to allow a search to happen first, failed to find him, and then went back to report or find another location to search.


    His plan, so far, appeared successful. He didn¡¯t see any palace guards or city watch except for the ones normally on duty and they paid little attention to someone dressed in the rags he was wearing. He kept a stash of peasant clothes in a room he rented in the Docks for precisely this reason.


    There were other types of clothing in the apartment as well, from the garb of a wealthy merchant to the lowliest farmer and everything in-between. He was prepared for any eventuality and means of escape should the worst happen. He just didn¡¯t expect that the event would have come from the palace itself.


    The Arms was fairly empty this time of night, though the hazy glow from the dim lights created shadows that an enterprising cutpurse might be hiding in. Not that a thief would pick their marks here. That was a quick way to find yourself full of new holes.


    He dropped a couple of gold on the bar and grabbed a drink. Not the piss-ale that was served to most of the patrons. He knew this place well enough to know that the good drinks cost money, and they were worth paying for.


    He found a table where he could set his back to a wall and see the door. This, being the Brigadoon Arms meant that all the tables along the back walls were set up that way. Even the scattered tables on the floor were arranged so that one or both sides of the table had a view of the door. They knew their clientele well.


    He needed to find a ship. He hoped a captain would be in soon that was discreet enough to keep his mouth shut and eyes closed when he booked a passenger. He figured the safest place for him to go would be Fort Camulan. If, for some reason, Aeolwyn¡¯s exile was his fault, then it should be his responsibility to keep him safe.


    He planned to take a ship south to Feemoth where he could take a riverboat up to where it joins with the river Tyr and head north to Fort Camulan. If he found the right riverboat captain, they would let him off a mile or so from the fort so he could arrive on foot. He wasn¡¯t sure what kind of news would have reached Fort Camulan by the time he got there. His father¡¯s spies would certainly be on the lookout for him everywhere. It would be best if he could scout the area up before attempting to enter the fort.


    As the night wore on and the empty glasses on his table grew, the bar filled up. Not one trustworthy captain was among them. A few sea captains showed up looking for crew, but none he would trust. Those that were looking for crew inevitably pressed their passengers into work, and so far from home, what could the passenger do but obey?


    A few hours before midnight a new patron entered. One he recognized. Someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to him, albeit with much longer hair and a much larger build. It was his brother Wolfryn. This was exactly why he always faced the door. There was still time for him to plan his escape.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Unlike most who visited this bar, Wolfryn didn¡¯t bother hiding his appearance, and why would he? He was as skilled a fighter as anyone here. He walked in with an air of danger that only someone skilled in death-dealing wore. Only a fool would try to start something with him.


    Before Ulfnar could quietly slip from his seat, his brother spotted him. He waved and strutted over. He sat back down and motioned for two more drinks. It was useless to try to escape now. Hopefully his brother wouldn¡¯t try to take him back to the palace.


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Wolfryn whispered as he sat down. ¡°Everyone is looking for you. The city watch, the palace guards, everyone! Father has even forced servants to watch for you.¡±


    ¡°I guess my disguise wasn¡¯t as good as I hoped,¡± Ulfnar said.


    ¡°Not to me. Now come on. Let¡¯s go back to the palace. It isn¡¯t too late to stem the damage you¡¯ve caused.¡±


    Ulfnar looked down. He was sad his brother didn¡¯t see what was going on. He always did try to see the best in people, particularly their older brother. It was going to be the end of him one day.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back, brother. Something is going on; can¡¯t you see that? I didn¡¯t tell Aeolwyn to sneak into the Star Children¡¯s temple. I didn¡¯t tell him how to get out of the palace. And if I didn¡¯t, then who did? It might have something to do with the two people who he was caught with.¡±


    Wolfryn¡¯s brow furrowed. Apparently Ulfnar was the twin that got all the intelligence, like Wolfryn got all the muscle.


    ¡°Rurik and Egnever?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ulfnar said. He was going to have to explain it to his brother. ¡°Those two are friends of Alfyn¡¯s. Why would they be on an adventure with Aeolwyn unless he put them all up to it? And for what? He¡¯s going to be king someday, and all of us are going to be threats to him.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculous. He¡¯s our brother!¡±


    ¡°No. He¡¯s the Crown prince. He¡¯s already gotten one threat to his rule out of the way, and he¡¯s coming for me next. I¡¯m not going to wait around until he decides he wants me out of the picture permanently.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Wolfryn said, grabbing his arm. ¡°We¡¯ll go back to the palace and talk it over with father. He¡¯s a reasonable man. I¡¯m sure we will be able to work something out.¡±


    Ulfnar pulled his arm away. ¡°No. The only way you¡¯ll get me to go with you is at the point of that sword; and I think you¡¯ll find that I have more friends here than you.¡±


    He leaned back and took a drink of his drink. ¡°Now go. People have recognized you and are already whispering. Get out of here before they recognize me, too.¡±


    Wolfryn shrugged and stood. He looked at Ulfnar one last time. ¡°It¡¯s not too late. I¡¯ll leave a door open for you. Hopefully I¡¯ll see you back there.¡±


    He turned and stormed out. He held the door for another man as he left. The new man, dressed in pantaloons and a billowy white shirt over a long dark coat gave him a start as he entered. He shook his head as Wolfryn exited and went to the bar. This was just the man he hoped to see. He walked over and saddled up next to him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him Jeolm,¡± he said. ¡°You know how rude those royals can me.¡±


    Jeolm hand went to his dagger before relaxing it as he recognized Ulfnar.


    ¡°Ah, my good friend Eforic. I thought I saw your spitting image just now. Gave me quite the fright!¡±


    Ulfnar laughed, patting Jeolm back as he did so. Hopefully he could avoid the old pirate from putting things together and realizing that they were brothers.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be the last man I¡¯m mistake for in my life. I just have one of those common faces. Why, I bet one of his forefathers raped one of mine!¡±


    Jeolm chuckled. ¡°Must have been an ugly son of a goat. Probably went through half the kingdom, I¡¯d bet!¡±


    ¡°Indeed!¡± Ulfnar laughed, tossing some coin to the barkeep who poured a set of good beers for the two.


    ¡°What brings you to the Arms today?¡± Ulfnar asked. That was treading on dangerous territory. It was considered rude to ask someone what their business was in a place like this. If he didn¡¯t know Jeolm, a question like that would have likely got him stabbed.


    ¡°Just a quick one before I¡¯m away,¡± Jeolm answered.


    ¡°Heading south?¡± Ulfnar asked.


    ¡°I do be indeed. A quick stop at Fremoth before I make for Tambryne.¡±


    That was the usual route for traders. They would usually stop at Tambryne and head up the mouth of the Tyr if they had a boat with a shallow enough draft, if not they would turn around and head back north. Most traders of Jeolm¡¯s sort didn¡¯t like crossing Cape Bryne. That was too risky for their cargo, and, depending on what they were carrying, their life.


    ¡°Have room for a quiet passenger?¡±


    Jeolm glared at him. ¡°Why? What¡¯ve you done?¡±


    Ulfnar smiled. ¡°I might have bedded the wrong woman, my friend. I just need to get out of town for a bit, and a holiday in Freemoth sounds just delightful.¡±


    Jeolm threw his head back and cackled. ¡°I warned you, Eforic,¡± he said. ¡°Hopefully not some noble¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°Thankfully not,¡± Ulfnar said. ¡°But I can¡¯t say that it wasn¡¯t the king¡¯s!¡± he laughed and Jeolm laughed with him. His stomach turned at the thought of him and one of his sisters, but it was the type of comment that would do wonders for throwing Jeolm off the idea that he might actually be a royal.


    ¡°Well, if it¡¯s one of the king¡¯s fine daughters, I can¡¯t say I blame you. Either for bedding them or fleeing after. I got room for you, if you got gold for me.¡±


    Ulfnar shook his purse. ¡°Enough for a cabin and your thirst tonight!¡±


    The two men laughed and drank until the wee hours of the morning. Having no other place to stay tonight, the two of them stumbled back to Cressard¡¯s Folly where Jeolm secured a cabin for his friend.


    He let out a great sigh of relief as soon as he closed the door to the cabin. No one saw him leave the bar, and they weren¡¯t followed to the ship. By midafternoon the following day he would be safely out of one brother¡¯s grasp and on his way to help another. He just prayed that Wolfryn would be safe in the palace.


    ***


    The tea was too hot again. He liked it hot, but this new page still hadn¡¯t learned how to properly make it. He was tempted to give the boy instructions on the method himself but thought better of it. He was a general, after all. The page needed to learn¡ªby whipping if necessary.


    His quarters were just as cold and spartan as he remembered. It made him happy to be here. After all the opulence and gluttony at the palace, returning to such simple surroundings brought peace to his soul. If he died on the battlefield, he hoped his spirit would return here.


    They had been back at Fort Camulan for two days, and still no sign of the prince. Alaric had sent orders for scouts to head out in all directions. There must be some sign of him, and if there was, they¡¯d find them.


    Captain Flint had confirmed that magic had been involved during the bandit raid. There wasn¡¯t enough of an Essence residue left for their mage to determine exactly what spell had been cast, but the consensus was that it was a teleportation spell. That was potentially good or bad. If it was Egnever who cast it like Alaric hoped, then the prince could just be wandering somewhere out there, and the scouts would find him.


    If it was someone else who cast the teleportation spell however, that would be a different story. It was possible that he would still be wandering around somewhere, but it was just as likely that he was rotting in a cell somewhere, or that his body had been left to the carrion in some unidentifiable desert.


    There was a knock at the door. Not the timid knock that his page, Elin would have used. No, this was the bold, forceful knock of someone who was used to command, and not at all afraid of General Alaric.


    ¡°Come,¡± he said.


    The door was already opening even before he had finished the first syllable. Commander Boede strolled in. He was dressed in a chainmail hauberk covered with a tan tabard with the royal crest on it: the fish and bear cradled by the rearing dragon. His clean-shaven face and bald head gave him the appearance of youth, though the man was nearly forty.


    ¡°Report,¡± Alaric said curtly.


    ¡°The scouts are preparing to ride before nightfall, general,¡± Boede said. ¡°I have impressed upon them how important this quest is, and the consequences of it if they fail.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Tea?¡±


    Boede shook his head. ¡°No, thank you, general.¡±


    ¡°Good choice. This new page is terrible. Anything else to report?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. An entire group of soldiers deserted after the attack.¡±


    ¡°The new recruits, yes? Captain Flint already told me. I can hardly blame them for running during their first skirmish, especially considering they were untrained vagrants.¡±


    General Alaric could understand them deserting, but he didn¡¯t like it. If he had the men to spare, he would have sent a squad out to track them down and execute every single one of them.


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s so strange about it, sir. These men were already competent with their weapons. Flint put them under the command of one of the newcomers.¡±


    That was a strange choice, and not one Alaric would have approved had he known of it. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°A man named Gelome. Flint described him as a strange fellow with a sour face and peaked nose, but he was excellent with a staff. The recruits seemed to know him, so Flint thought they would adapt to military life better if someone they knew was the one giving them orders.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Alaric said. Another mistake. He may have to punish Flint for these errors in judgement. It did give Alaric someone to blame for the missing prince, although Alaric wouldn¡¯t escape punishment even if Flint accepted the blame. He was still the general.


    ¡°What of news here?¡±


    ¡°Nothing new to report there, sir. The Fenns have been raiding as usual, and our scouts have reported seeing a camp under construction in the forests across the river.¡±


    Alaric felt the tension rising in his shoulders again. The Fenns were up to something, and he suspected they were preparing to try and take the fort. That would be a great first step in an invasion. They would have to prepare. He would need to send men to man and reinforce the river outposts.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this, Boede. They¡¯re up to som-¡°


    He was cut off as Captain Flint burst in. His face was flush, and he was out of breath. Wherever he had come from, he had run all the way here.


    ¡°Sir,¡± he said among ragged breaths, ¡°Our men on the wall have sighted four people heading towards the fort!¡±


    ¡°From which direction, captain?¡± Boede asked.


    ¡°The northwest, sir.¡±


    Four people? He resisted the temptation to hope but couldn¡¯t help it. This had to be the prince, who else would be coming from that direction? He couldn¡¯t take any chances though. He had to be sure.


    ¡°Do we have eyes on them?¡± he asked. ¡°Send word to reinforce the walls and get the doors ready to close.¡±


    ¡°Should send riders, sir? We have eyes on them, and they don¡¯t look to be in good shape. One of our men on the wall has described them as a tall, thin man, a man of average height, and two smaller ones that may either be women or boys.¡±


    ¡°That has to be them! Send out some men with horses and a cleric to tend to their injuries. Quickly now!¡±


    All the tension flooded out of him. He reached up and touched the neck that was still firmly attached to his head, unstretched. He was saved. The prince had come!

 20: Home at Last

    They staggered their way through Foregate, Aeolwyn and Galafar helping carry the struggling Egnever. His wound had festered, and he was in and out of consciousness. Fortunately for them it hadn¡¯t gotten to the point where he couldn¡¯t walk. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure if they could carry the tall man.


    Foregate was a shanty town that had sprung up around Fort Camulan. It was a dirty, dusty village made of ramshackle housing and makeshift shopfronts. The streets were unpaved and filled with mud, slop, and other unidentified muck.


    The streets were full of dirty peasants selling their wares. Shopkeepers hawked their wares on wobbly tables in front of houses that barely stood. Prostitutes walked the streets in clothing that barely covered their own wares, and every third building was a tavern or public house.


    Fights were common; in the short time that Aeolwyn and his group had carried Egnever through the town they had already seen ten fights and two stabbings. A few men with surly faces studied the group, but upon seeing their weapons thought better of robbing them and looked for their marks elsewhere.


    As they walked a commotion appeared in front of them. Dust rose from the road and people began to move out of the way. Their group struggled to follow the crowd, but carrying Egnever made it difficult.


    A quartet of mounted soldiers came to a halt directly in front of them. Aeolwyn winced as he feared they were going to run the group down.


    ¡°My lord prince!¡± one of the riders exclaimed. ¡°General Alaric sends his greetings and begs you to come with us back to the fort.¡±


    They must have been a pitiful sight, as all the soldiers dismounted in a flash. One was wearing a robe fashioned to look like the soldier¡¯s uniforms. He unlimbered his staff from the horse and hurried over to Egnever. A blue glow came from his hand, and he ran it down their dying friend.


    ¡°He is in grave danger,¡± The mage said. ¡°We must get him to the fort quickly.¡±


    The mage looked around hurriedly and pointed at a merchant unloading a wagon of ale in front of a tavern. ¡°You!¡± he said to the merchant. ¡°Dump your load and help me with this man. The general will see to your wages.¡±


    The merchant looked surprised and shocked but started throwing the barrels off the wagon as quickly as he could. Two of the soldiers ran over to help. Some of the ale was preserved, but most of the barrels broke open and their contents added to the mysterious liquid that seemed to be in front of every building.


    The soldier who had greeted Aeolwyn ran over and grabbed Egnever¡¯s feet. Together, the three of them loaded their friend onto the cart. The merchant and Galafar climbed onto the buckboard while the mage stayed in the back tending to Egnever.


    One of the soldiers offered the mage¡¯s horse to Aeolwyn, but he declined, offering it to Reiva instead. He wasn¡¯t going to leave his friend. As soon as Reiva mounted the horse, Aeolwyn realized what a bad idea it was. She could have ridden anywhere in the kingdom. She could have even crossed the Tyr and escaped to Fennland.


    But she didn¡¯t. Even knowing that she could be riding to her own death by entering the fort, she went anyway. Aeolwyn would do his best to protect her, but there was only so much he could do considering she was an assassin who hadn¡¯t disavowed the notion that she was going to kill Aeolwyn. She¡¯d had many chances to during their journey but stayed her hand. Why?


    The riders took positions on either side of the wagon as they made their way up the main road, known as the Teorton road here to a region known as Eastgate. As they got closer to the fort, the buildings got better. They slowly ceased to be made from whatever items were found scattered around to timber framed buildings. The buildings closest to the fort were made from stone. Whether that was because this section was wealthier or because the fort refused to have any buildings made from flammable materials next to the gate was left unanswered.


    The fort itself was a massive stone structure. It was surrounded by a wall 20 feet high. Square towers were placed at 50-yard intervals and on either side of the gatehouse. This was in turn surrounded by a magnificent ditch that could be flooded with water from the Tyr river whenever the opportunity presented itself. A wooden bridge spanned the ditch and led to a barbican; a short hallway that was between two gatehouses. The outer gate was left open, but the inner gate was closed.


    Sentries stood on either side of the outer gate with more manning the walls of the barbican. As the wagon passed through, Aeolwyn saw the men standing above him ready to fire their arrows down. Word was sent and the inner doors slowly opened.


    The courtyard of the fort was as filled with activity as the slums of the Foregate, with some soldiers working on sword forms and formations, while blacksmiths worked in outbuildings next to the walls. Across the yard was a stable where men were tending to horses.


    In the middle of the yard was a tall, square keep made of stone. Towers rose from the four corners of the keep and ended parapets that reached for the sky. Crenellations ran all along the top of the walls and arrowslits peaked out from the towers and at various locations along the keep¡¯s walls.


    There was no door at ground level. Instead, a wooden staircase led to a small set of doors higher up. At this level there was a balcony that surrounded the entire length of the keep. Sentries armed with bows were posted at various locations across the balcony.


    As soon as the wagon had cleared the gate, the doors were shut and one of the soldiers, grabbed Aeolwyn and lifted him easily off the wagon. In another world that man could have been killed for laying his hands on a prince, but this was not the palace.


    Aeolwyn protested the treatment, but didn¡¯t push the issue further. The soldier just replied with a, ¡°Sorry, milord, but the general wants to see you.¡±


    He was led across the courtyard, up the wooden stairs and into the keep. They took one of the rounded stairwells up to a higher level and down a hallway to a room that faced the river. The furnishings in the room were spartan. A stout wood desk dominated, with a simple bookshelf on one side. Iron lanterns were mounted on three sides of the room with a large fireplace dominated the last wall.


    Seated at the desk was General Alaric, examining some papers with a quill in his hand. He barely glanced up when he saw Aeolwyn and motioned for him to sit.


    ¡°Thank you, captain,¡± he said. ¡°You may go.¡±


    The captain who brought him exited without a word and closed the door behind him. Alaric continued with his papers for a while, leaving Aeolwyn to sit in silence. He looked around at the surroundings, and, not finding anything of interest, could only stare out at the river. The wall continued around to the river, and from his vantage point went right up to the water¡¯s edge. There was a small gate near the middle of the water side where a boat was docked.


    Finally, Alaric put his quill down and looked at Aeolwyn. He studied the prince¡¯s face and arms, and dirty, bloodied doublet. Aeolwyn shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.


    ¡°You look like you need a bath and a shave,¡± Alaric said.


    A shave? Aeolwyn had never needed to shave before. Maybe Alaric was just being nice and letting Aeolwyn pretend that he was a real soldier who had just come back from a long and grueling mission.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Still, I¡¯m glad to see you well, your highness. You gave us all quite a start. Can you tell us what happened?¡±


    ¡°The bandits came after me,¡± he said. ¡°Galafar and Egnever came to help me. When he thought I was in danger, Egnever cast a Recall spell to get us to a safe space. The spell didn¡¯t work correctly, and we ended up somewhere in Wickshire.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so it was him who cast the spell. Good. Continue.¡±


    Aeolwyn continued, telling him the whole story about their adventures, including Fraius¡¯ attack and finding the Shielder ruins. He chose to leave out the soothsayer and Reiva¡¯s attempted assassination. He explained what had happened to Egnever and how Fraius was a member of the Star Children.


    Alaric said nothing during Aeolwyn¡¯s explanation, unless it was to clarify a point; he just let Aeolwyn tell the story at his own pace and accepted his words as the truth. He smiled during Aeolwyn¡¯s description of the combat, which he was particularly interested in. It was there he asked the most questions, including Aeolwyn¡¯s tactics when he was outnumbered and what he thought he could do better if he were faced with the same situation again.


    When the tale was finished, Alaric had smoked a pipe, ordered another pitcher of wine to be brought, and had to ask for Aeolwyn to pause for a moment while he visited the garderobe. When the general returned, he sat in silence and wrote some things down before pulling out another sheet of paper. This one with the ribbon and seal of his father, the king.


    ¡°Well, your valor shows you are deserving, but I still have my doubts. If it were up to me, I wouldn¡¯t. This is much too soon.¡±


    He handed the note over. It was only a few lines of text, not written in the king¡¯s own hand, but was sealed with his seal. It wasn¡¯t his signature, either, though it bore a passing similarity. It read:


    General Alaric,


    I have conferred with Lord-General Harmin and we have decided that it is proper to promote my son Aeolwyn to corporal upon his arrival, and for him to be given a squad of soldiers to command.


    The ink was messy where it was signed, as though the signatory had taken too much time and too much ink had run from the pen onto the paper.


    A promotion for him already? He couldn¡¯t believe that. Aeolwyn had never heard of such a thing. Sir Jom always told him that a soldier had to work his way up the ranks. He had to prove himself to his superiors before being promoted to anything.


    ¡°I guess my father has more faith in me than you,¡± he said.


    ¡°It has nothing to do with faith, son,¡± Alaric replied. ¡°It¡¯s about experience. You have skill and knowledge from your time with Sir Jom, but that is useless without practical experience. Your adventures in the wilderness have given you some, but not enough.¡±


    Aeolwyn shrugged. ¡°You sound like Sir Jom.¡± The general could have been parroting his mentor word-for-word. ¡°I will do my best, general,¡± he said.


    ¡°That won¡¯t be enough. I am going to put some more experienced soldiers under your command, and I insist that you take their advice. As easily as this promotion has been given, it can be taken. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Aeolwyn answered.


    ¡°Good. Now tell me about the woman you arrived with. She has the stink of an assassin all over her, yet I noticed you left her out of your report.¡±


    Aeolwn sighed. He couldn¡¯t lie to the general. He was going to find out about her one way or another. He would just have to do his best to protect her.


    ¡°She is an assassin,¡± Aeolwyn admitted. ¡°Hired to kill me, though she hasn¡¯t said by whom. But she didn¡¯t do it! She protected me from Fraius and the bandits! She¡¯s a good person, I can feel it. General, please go easy on her!¡±


    The general¡¯s face went from surprise to shock when Aeolwyn made his explanation.


    ¡°You want me to go easy on someone sent to kill you?¡± he asked. ¡°Someone who won¡¯t admit who sent her? Boy, you have more enemies than you know. Not just the Star Children or whatever enemies you have made in your life, but your father¡¯s as well. His enemies will go after you to get to him. You must be smarter. It was dangerous to bring this woman with you. You should have killed her on the spot.¡±


    ¡°Please, general. Don¡¯t hurt her.¡±


    He was right, of course. But the general didn¡¯t know Reiva the way he did. She saved his life, more than once. But did he trust her too much? He thought maybe he did.


    ¡°I will promise that she won¡¯t be put to the question,¡± the general said. ¡°But you must hand her over. If she abandons her quest to assassinate you and reveals who hired her, maybe she will be released. But if she doesn¡¯t? Well, we have ways of dealing with assassins.¡±


    He meant execution. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure if he could bear the thought of Reiva facing the headsman¡¯s block. She wouldn¡¯t, of course. A simple assassin would be hanged.


    ¡°You have to harden your heart, son,¡± Alaric said. ¡°You are going to be faced with a lot of tough decisions in your life, and you will need to make them without mercy. Too soft of a heart will get you killed.¡±


    Was everyone in his life going to give him advice? He didn¡¯t want to have a hard heart. His mother always said hard hearts killed the world. He didn¡¯t want to kill the world. He wanted to save it!


    ¡°Now go. I¡¯ll have the woman sent to your quarters so you can say your goodbyes.¡±


    ***


    A soldier was waiting to escort Aeolwyn to his quarters. One of the benefits of rank was that he didn¡¯t have to sleep in the barracks with the rest of the common soldiers. He was shown to a room near the stables where the cavalry barracks were.


    The cavalry barracks were long stone buildings near the southern gate. They consisted of several large rooms fitted with a series of bunks where the members of the cavalry slept. The commanders, like him, got a room beside the barracks. Unlike the senior officers, his quarters were against the wall with no window and little ventilation.


    The room was as spartan as the General¡¯s office. He had a bed in one corner, a small desk, and a little cabinet that he could use for his clothes and whatever other items he wanted to store there. He was ready to settle down for a nap when his door banged open and Reiva barged in.


    She dropped a lifeless head on his desk. It rolled around a bit until the scarred, sunbaked face with empty eyes stared back at him. Aeolwyn instinctively recoiled from the grisly trophy.


    ¡°Why have you brought me a dead man¡¯s head?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That man was sent to kill me because I didn¡¯t kill you. He attacked me just after I exited the stables.¡±


    ¡°You killed a soldier?¡± That was not good. If she had killed a soldier, there was nothing Aeolwyn could do to protect her. She would be off to the gallows tomorrow.


    ¡°No, he snuck through the gate behind us. I don¡¯t know how the guards didn¡¯t see him.¡± She said. ¡°Well, they did see him when he attacked me, but not one bothered to get up off their arse to help.¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    ¡°No idea, but I¡¯m guessing he followed the army out of Teorton.¡±


    That made sense he supposed. Whoever had hired her had sent this man to make sure the job was done and done properly. Although maybe he was sent for more than that. Perhaps this man would have tried to kill him also.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ve been fired,¡± she said.


    ¡°Even if you had succeeded, this man would have tried to kill you,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°I¡¯m a high-value target. Can¡¯t have a witness to reveal who had sent them.¡±


    She turned his sole chair to face the bed and sat down in it. Leaning forward in the chair, she looked directly at him. He tried not to shy away from her gaze, but the intensity of her stare intimidated him.


    ¡°His name was Aylonzo.¡±


    ¡°Who? The head?¡± he asked, suddenly alarmed.


    ¡°No,¡± she replied. ¡°The man who hired me.¡±


    ¡°Aylonzo? Are you sure?¡±


    This was not good. There was only one person he knew who used the name Aylonzo. He had been a member of the royal household. He was a servant in the palace. All of the princes and princesses had loved him like a grandfather. He always had a bit of candy and some gossip for them when they crossed paths. But he had been dead for many years.


    ¡°That was the name he used,¡± she said.


    Someone in the palace wanted him dead and was masquerading as Aylonzo. That was the only explanation. Who? Who in the palace would have wanted him dead? Sir Jom? He dismissed that thought as soon as it came to mind. Sir Jom was a loyal teacher.


    He wouldn¡¯t put it past Lord Smyton. That wart-faced man hated all of the king¡¯s children. But he was loyal to the king. There was no way he would dare put himself at risk like that.


    But what of Rurik¡¯s father? Lord Asconce had both the means and the motive. He was known as an angry vengeful man. He would be capable of anything, including regicide if his son was killed. Not only was he capable of it, but he would also see it as quite fitting to kill the king¡¯s son in revenge for the death of his own. It had to be him. He had known Aylonzo and didn¡¯t like how soft he had been on the royal family.


    ¡°Reiva,¡± Aeolwyn started and stopped. He wasn¡¯t sure how to tell her.


    ¡°I am to be arrested. I know,¡± she said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he replied. ¡°I tried to protect you.¡±


    She shrugged, picking the head up off the table and stuffing it into a bag. ¡°It won¡¯t be the first prison cell I¡¯ve been in.¡±


    ¡°The general promised that they won¡¯t torture you. That was the best I could do.¡± He suddenly felt like crying. He fought the feeling back before the tears came. He didn¡¯t want her to see him cry.


    She held the head up and shook it. ¡°Now that my employer has terminated my contract, I have no reason not to sing, she said.¡±


    She turned towards the door before stopping and looking back.


    ¡°That also means I¡¯m available,¡± she said, winking. She slung the head over her shoulder and walked out, closing the door behind her. He thought he could hear her whistling as she made her way down the hall.


    Strange woman. Beautiful, and strong. If he could secure her release, he would hire her as his bodyguard in an instant. Hopefully she would sing like a crill bird in winter. He knew he would.

 21: Cressards Folly

    The slow lulling of the ship put Ulfnar right to sleep. He didn¡¯t even have to try. He would be out as soon as his head hit the pillow. The soothing ocean movement would rock even the most serious insomniacs to sleep. He understood why sailors heeded the call of the sea as often as possible.


    The cabin he was given was small, even by ship standards. It was essentially a closet with a bed. There was less than a foot of space to move around in and only a cubby for storage. A small candle served for light should he need it. There wasn¡¯t even a porthole for him to look out of.


    So, he spent most of his time on deck, amid the deck hands. He tried to stay out of their way as much as possible. They had made it clear that their job was more important than him or his safety, and they would have no qualms about running him down or overboard if he stood between them and their duties.


    He would have rather been on the quarterdeck, as that was far less busy than the main deck, but he had been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from the quarterdeck. It appeared that Captain Jeolm didn¡¯t want him anywhere near the helm.


    The sea air was quite refreshing, especially after the stink of the Docks. He¡¯d hid out there so long that he nearly forgot what fresh air smelled like. It was clean and pure without the ever-present hint of shit that permeated all of Teorton. The only smells were of wood, saltwater, and tar.


    For the first two days, he dined with Jeolm in his cabin. Compared to the one Ulfnar had been given, it was positively spacious. Compared to the garderobe in the palace where he took care of his bodily functions, Jeolm¡¯s cabin was small. There was only room for a bed in one corner, a desk in another, and a cabinet in a third. His dining table was foldable and sat in the middle of the room. For chairs, Jeolm used the edge of his bed or the folding chair that also served as his desk¡¯s chair.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the amount of wine he drank or if he was a poor conversationalist, but after the second night Jeolm stopped inviting him for meals. Instead, he ate with the crew. They were a rowdy bunch, and he felt right at home. They drank, they caroused, and they gambled. He was careful to lose as much as he won. There was no better way to outstay his welcome than to take a sailor¡¯s hard-earned coin. If he took too much, he could find his throat slit in the middle of the night.


    And so it went for the first week.


    On most days he could be found at the rails, watching the shore go by. He realized that besides a few unnamed fishing villages and bandit camps, there wasn¡¯t much to look at between Teorton and Kaenshire. There were some cliffs that were eroding back into the sea, but that was it. For a while he stared at those cliffs hoping to see a few precarious rocks fall, but those gave way to sandy beaches covered in seaweed before that happened.


    He wished he had brought a book, even something he¡¯d read before. The landscapes could only hold his interest for so long. If he were something of an artist, he could have brought a sketchpad, but he wasn¡¯t. Besides, he had left in quite a hurry and didn¡¯t have time to pack.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Suddenly, as he was staring at the seaweed filled beaches, he felt the ship lurch. He looked up and saw that the sails had begun to luff. If he had been paying more attention, he might have heard the orders Jeolm had issued.


    The ship was quickly slowing to a stop, even among the ocean currents. It was then he saw a ship, still far, but gaining on them. He wasn¡¯t a good judge of distance, but just based on its size, it was less than a mile away.


    Before he could find someone to ask, Jeolm leapt down from the quarterdeck and grabbed him. The captain pulled him quickly towards the small hatch at the aft end of the ship, below the quarterdeck that led to the cabins.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Inspections,¡± Jeolm said.


    Instead of back to his cabin, Jeolm stuffed Ulfnar into a small cubby that held ropes and other parts of the ship¡¯s tackle. He had been shoved far enough in that he could barely see out.


    ¡°Say nothing and do not move,¡± Jeolm said. ¡°I will get you when it¡¯s safe.¡±


    The sea roared as the second ship came alongside the Cressard¡¯s Folly. Men began shouting and he heard lines being thrown and caught. A great rubbing sound reverberated through the deck as the ship made contact with the visiting vessel.


    The next thing he heard were boots thumping on deck and a great deal of shouting, though he couldn¡¯t make out what they were saying. He recognized Jeolm¡¯s voice, but none of the others. Jeolm¡¯s tone suggested that he was protesting this intrusion and that he was innocent of whatever they thought he was being accused of.


    Then the sound of a head being struck, and a thump as the body hit the deck. A few moments later more boots and he heard the cubby door being smashed open. Ulfnar cowered back as far as he could go and held his breath.


    Then two hands reached in and pulled him out. He stumbled and tripped. He tried grabbing some of the ropes to steady his fall, but just pulled them along with him on his path to the ground.


    His was the second thump of the day. Followed by someone kicking him in the ribs.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough of that,¡± a voice said. It spoke in a strange accent that Ulfnar didn¡¯t recognize. This must be one of the men from the visiting ship. ¡°Now get him up.¡±


    More rough hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. He was surrounded by five men. Three with short crossbows pointed right at his head. Another was dressed in a strangely cut coat of fine make. It had shiny buttons and a crest of a crane in flight on the breast. He didn¡¯t recognize the man.


    The fifth man was a member of the crew. One who lost against him with regularity. Apparently, he was a sore loser. But it wasn¡¯t like Ulfnar was taking his money. He made sure to lose what he won also. He just tended to lose to other people. Maybe this man didn¡¯t enjoy that Ulfnar was redistributing the wealth on the ship.


    The fancy dressed man handed the loser a purse. The coins clicked as the man opened it and stuffed his finger inside. A broad smile came across his face. Ulfnar wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it were the last smile the man had. If he had betrayed Jeolm and his crewmates for a purse of gold, they wouldn¡¯t find that particularly endearing. But greed makes men do strange things and to hell with the consequences.


    One of the men with the crossbow put his weapon aside and slapped a set of manacles on Ulfnar¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°Who are you? What is the meaning of this? Do you know who I am?¡± Ulfnar found himself demanding.


    ¡°I am Commodore Tyrec and you are my prisoner,¡± the well-dressed man said. ¡°And I know exactly who you are, your highness.¡±

 22: A Boy, Grown

    Part III: The Boy General


    2 years later...


    The dock beside Fort Camulan was a hive of activity. A ship, the Lady¡¯s Rage was unloading her cargo. Men scurried to and fro carrying casks, crates, and bags from the ship to the dock. Workers were piling these goods onto carts to carry into the fort via the Watergate. The ship listed slightly from taking on water.


    A patched hole was in her starboard side that a pair of carpenters on a bosun¡¯s chair slung over the side were working diligently to fix. The ship had either had a run-in with pirates, had run aground on a sandbar, or both.


    As each cart was filled, a dockworker would grab its handles and roll it along the gangway up through the Watergate and into the fort. A dozen guards stood watch on either side of the gate to prevent any unwanted entries or attempts to assault the fort.


    The fort had been expanding, with a new tower going up at the edge of the Northgate. It was made from wood and nearly half-complete. When it reached its full height, it would allow General Alaric a view deep into Fennland, and a good eye on anything they were planning. As it was, it could see far across the river, where one could catch sight of a similar tower going up.


    Northgate, the town that had been springing up on the north side of Fort Camulan¡¯s walls had been expanding as well. With word of more activity along the borders with Fennland, more and more peasants were seeking the safety of the fort. Rumors of vicious raids across the river sent fear into the hearts of the locals. Rumors abound, with many saying the Fenns crossed the river, slayed entire villages and then feasted on their remains. They were only rumors though. Most didn¡¯t believe that the Fenns would actually feast on human remains.


    Beyond Northgate a group of soldiers were on patrol. They totaled eleven, and though each wore a uniform, their arms and armaments were scattered at best. Some were in chainmail, others in boiled leather, and one wore no armor at all. Instead, he wore a long robe of a similar style and cut to the soldier¡¯s uniforms. A little-used sword was belted to his hip, and he carried a long staff in one arm.


    The man leading them wore a finely worked helmet in addition to his chainmail shirt. A sword hung from a baldric on his shoulder and was belted against motion around his waist. He was young, barely having reached his 14<sup>th</sup> nameday. Though older, the rest of the soldiers followed him regardless, having recognized the young prince¡¯s bravery, valor, and especially his ability to keep them alive.


    Today marked the second anniversary of Aeolwyn¡¯s arrival in Fort Camulan. He didn¡¯t plan on marking the occasion, though he suspected Egnever and Galafar might. The day made him reflect on the journey that they took to reach Fort Camulan. Egne had almost died that day. It took the might of three clerics and three mages to bring him back from the brink.


    Egne was a changed man after that. He had given up his gentleman assassin persona and had dove headlong into his magical studies. Ivsar, the lead mage was proud of his progress, saying he was quickly becoming one of the best mages in the camp, and with a little more experience, might be ready for a promotion.


    Galafar hadn¡¯t changed one bit. He still clung to Aeolwyn like glue and had even bribed one of the cavalry members so that he would have the bunk closest to his door. The prince wondered if the Shielder would have insisted on sleeping at his feet if there were room in his quarters.


    They all had settled into a routine at the fort. A mostly unpleasant routine, as it consisted of never-ending drills and patrols. They rarely saw any action, and none with the Fenns. The only time they had drawn their swords was against bandits and a few goblins. One time, they were asked to head to battle against a dragon, but it turned out to be a small lizard. Aeolwyn was both relieved and disappointed when they found the thing. The dragon was the sigil of his house, after all. How could he kill one?


    Besides that, little had changed. He¡¯d had a few letters from his family, mostly from his mother. His sister Filiya and father sent some as well. They didn¡¯t say much, mostly that they were proud of his service, and they missed him. There was no mention of the attempts on his life, and he wasn¡¯t about to tell them. Strangely, he hadn¡¯t received letters from anyone else. He had expected that Ulfnar at least would have sent him one.


    Once he¡¯d arrived at the fort, there were no further assassination attempts. He was thankful for that. He hoped Fraius had been killed. The man had taken some grievous injuries, but without seeing an actual body, it was impossible and unadvisable to assume the Star Child had been slain.


    The idea that Child Fraius was still around made him shudder. He instinctively reached for Woebringer, the name he finally gave his sword after endless pestering by Galafar. The Shielder was going to call it Groundstain after how many times Aeolwyn had dropped it during the mounted combat drills. He couldn¡¯t abide that name, so he chose to give it something more appropriate.


    He had sent careful inquiries to some of his few friends in Teorton, hoping for information on anyone posing as Aylonzo, but none of his missives had, so far, been returned. He¡¯d sent several to his brother Ulfnar; he had extensive knowledge of Teorton¡¯s underbelly and was his best bet for information. He hadn¡¯t received a response from any of those either. It made him worry about what was going on in the capital. He thought Ulfnar had been very fond of him.


    He had been glad to be reunited with Sefalus after his long absence. The horse seemed to be glad too. He jumped and stamped his feet when he saw Aeolwyn, and he wouldn¡¯t stop whinnying until he was allowed to nuzzle the prince for an entire hour. The prince couldn¡¯t stop laughing.


    Aeolwyn loved that horse. He had been well trained, too. Unlike his rider, Sefalus only needed to be shown a thing once before he was excellent at it. He was big, powerful, and unafraid of facing enemy lines. He would stay with his group on practice charges, even if Aeolwyn wanted to leap ahead to be the first to victory.


    Aeolwyn stopped along the riverbank they were patrolling. He climbed down into the muck to examine what he thought was a footprint. They were here patrolling the river north of the fort looking for any signs that the Fenns might be crossing. Even though they had found no real evidence of raids just yet, General Alaric insisted that they go. Aeolwyn agreed.


    ¡°What is it, sir?¡± Brakus asked.


    Brakus was one of the seasoned soldiers under his command that he was instructed to listen to. At first, Aeolwyn had bristled at the soldier giving him advice, but, as it turned out, his advice was almost always sound. Sir Jom always told him to listen to those with experience, and he was glad he did. It had saved his life.


    ¡°I thought it was a footprint,¡± he replied.


    Tyrik, another of his soldiers came beside him. ¡°It does look like one, but I don¡¯t see any more of them. And this high on the bank, the river wouldn¡¯t have washed it away just yet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I agree,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°But I don¡¯t like it. Let¡¯s have a rest here for a minute so we can take a look around.¡±


    They unlimbered their packs and sat on the soft grass near the riverbank. From their vantage point it looked like a calm stream, casually making its way south, but Aeolwyn knew better. Underneath that placid surface was a raging torrent ready to suck anyone who dared step too close to their deaths. He had seen it happen many times, and there was nothing they could do. By the time someone got a rope out, the victim was already miles away.


    As Diryn was breaking out the provisions for everyone, Palrik, his bunkmate kept elbowing him for some reason. Diryn shrugged it off and returned to his pack.


    ¡°Ask him,¡± Palrik said. Palrik was a thick man with an extremely pockmarked face. He had lived a rough life as a child and had survived elvish fever, one of the rare ones to do so.


    ¡°Ask me what?¡± Aeolwyn asked.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Palrik stopped as he was handing out the provisions and turned to face the prince. Palrik was a young, fresh-faced soldier. He¡¯d had very little training in weapons growing up but was a quick study. Aeolwyn took it upon himself to teach the boy the sword forms.


    Aeolwyn always saw Palrik as the child of the group, being less experienced in combat than the others, but he always had to remind himself that the boy was still two years older than Aeolwyn himself.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Palrik started. ¡°The boys want to know if you¡¯ve ever been with a woman before?¡±


    The whole group of them broke out in laughter as soon as Palrik finished the question. Some began handing money over to others. Others, red-faced, were clapping each other on the back.


    Aeolwyn could feel his own face turning red. He stalled, unsure of how to answer. Most of his squad besides Brakus and Tyrik were young, and whether you¡¯d been with a woman or not was an important topic. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t sure what to say; he didn¡¯t want to lie to his men.


    ¡°He¡¯s 14. What do you think?¡± Egne answered for him.


    More laughter broke out among the younger men of the group, though the older among them kept their composure. They knew that once you¡¯d spent a night with a woman that it wasn¡¯t as big a deal as the younger ones made it out to be.


    ¡°Is that true, sir?¡± Palrik asked.


    ¡°Egne¡¯s got the right of it,¡± Aeolwyn admitted.


    He found his embarrassment easing after the admission, though there had been more laughter in the group and more money changed hands. He felt like he should be angry about it, his men betting on his virginity, but this was the sort of thing soldiers did. He let them have their fun. He knew he could count on them when it mattered, so allowing them to have a laugh was important to him.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got to do something about that, sir,¡± Diryn said. ¡°We can help. There¡¯s plenty of women in Foregate that would be happy to clear that problem up for you.¡±


    He smiled and nodded, but he just couldn¡¯t picture himself with a prostitute. He didn¡¯t see anything wrong with their profession; men were willing to pay for a service they were happy to provide. As long as all parties were satisfied, what was the harm in it?


    ¡°He¡¯s got money Diryn. It¡¯s Westgate for him!¡± Galafar put in.


    ¡°I bet none of them have ever been with a prince before!¡± Palrik said. ¡°They¡¯d probably do it for free!¡±


    ¡°Enough boys,¡± Brakus said. ¡°You¡¯ve had your fun at the corporal¡¯s expense, and he¡¯s been a good sport about it. Let¡¯s not push him to throw us all in the river.¡±


    More laughs at Brakus¡¯ comment. Aeolwyn was simultaneously glad and annoyed that Brakus had stepped in. He shouldn¡¯t have had to; it undermined Aeolwyn¡¯s authority. He might have to speak to Brakus privately about that.


    For some reason, the talk of the whims of the working women in Westgate made him think of Reiva. She was still being kept in the fort¡¯s tower, but, as far as he knew, hadn¡¯t been tortured. That made him happy.


    They had initially put her in the dungeon, to which Aeolwyn protested. She had given him the name of the man who had hired her, and shouldn¡¯t that be enough? It was clear that he didn¡¯t want her services any longer, considering Aylonzo had sent an assassin after her. The general still didn¡¯t trust her fully, despite her disavowing her desire for Aeolwyn¡¯s death.


    They had begun to trust her with small tasks around the fort. Mostly cleaning, fetching water, and other menial labors. She told Aeolwyn she didn¡¯t particularly like the duties but was happy to perform them if it meant she got to go out of the tower.


    She was constantly under guard when she was in the yard. 5 men armed with cudgels were always watching her as she did her duties. Aeolwyn knew that if she really wanted to escape, those 5 men wouldn¡¯t stop her. But she made no attempt.


    Aeolwyn visited her as often as he could. He would sometimes get treats from Foregate and bring them to her. He liked talking to her. In exchange for the treats she would tell him about her adventures in Tambryne and other places, though he was no closer to learning where this place called the Spires was.


    He asked her where she would go when she was released. She shrugged and said she didn¡¯t know. Not back to Teorton. If Aylonzo was still operating out of there, visiting the capital would be very dangerous for her. Aeolwyn said that if she didn¡¯t have anywhere to go that he would hire her to stay with him. She smiled and said she liked that idea.


    ¡°Aeolwyn, come look at this,¡± Egne shouted.


    It was Galafar that shortened his name. He decided that Egnever was too much of a mouthful to say, and it didn¡¯t especially roll of the tongue very well. He decided that Egne was as far as he was going to go in the mage¡¯s name and if he didn¡¯t like it, too bad.


    Egne just laughed and said, ¡°Call me as you will.¡±


    Aeolwyn got up and ran over to the riverbank where Egnever had been scouting. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t even have to guess what he was looking for. Just a few yards north of where they had stopped were a great deal of footprints. Many of them had been brushed away or buried under other footprints, but their sign was unmistakable.


    ¡°And here,¡± Galafar said, pointing further down the riverbank where the clear signs of a rowboat being beached were readily apparent.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s the Fenns?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    Egne nodded towards the other bank. Aeolwyn squinted to see. He could make out on the opposite bank a large area of disturbed mud where the reeds and other fauna had been uprooted or pushed aside.


    ¡°Large enough for a rowboat,¡± Bakus said.


    ¡°Alright, get ready to move,¡± Aeolwyn ordered. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get back and report this.¡±


    Without another word, his men began to gather their equipment, sheathing their weapons and slinging their packs onto their backs.


    ***


    The Fortress of Heaven was a glorious building. From the outside, it was a single shining tower, a beacon for all to see. Surrounding the tower that erupted like a dagger from the earth was a series of massive walls, all connected together to formed a four-sided star. A tower stood at all four of the points, and at the intersections of each wall for a total of eight towers.


    While it was nominally inside the jurisdiction of Branson¡¯s Fork, it was over a mile away from the city itself. The elves who had control of city and the surrounding area did not want the building anywhere near the town where it might influence the populace.


    That suited the members of the Courageous Order of the Heavens just fine. They were able to place the building on a large hill with a view of where the Stile River branched off from the River Tyr. Everyone passing along the river could see the fortress¡¯ beacon. Many curious visitors came to the doors. Many of those visitors stayed and became initiates.


    Fraius was in the Lesser Meeting Hall inside the tower. It was a round room high up with windows along a round wall that looked out over the land. From here one could see the walls and towers of Branson¡¯s Fork, along with any ship that may be passing by. An exception view, but it wasn¡¯t quite tall enough to see as far as Darkwood Forest.


    It had been two years since he¡¯d arrived on death¡¯s door. A cleric had healed his wounds as best as was possible, but that was only part of his recovery. The damage the assassin had inflicted upon him was great, and recovering from it took much too long. He still walked with a limp and had limited use of his left arm. Not idea for a man whose talents for knifework were feared all across Laryndor.


    Lord Longinus was not pleased with Fraius¡¯ performance in regard to the prince. He had failed to assassinate him on two occasions. That was unacceptable, not only to Longinus, but to himself as well. If His Radiance had demanded Fraius¡¯ head, he would have walked to the headsman willingly.


    But Longinus denied him the honor of death. He was told that the master couldn¡¯t do away with one of his most trusted men. So, he was instructed to stay at the fortress and recover. If he couldn¡¯t recover, other duties would be found for him, but death would not be one of them. He should have just let himself die on the field of battle.


    Lord Longinus was seated comfortably in a tall wooden chair. Its intricate carvings were filled with scenes of devils and monsters coming down from the heavens to assault Laryndor. A noble group of men wearing the sigil of the Courageous Order of Heavens stood firm as a shield between the monsters and men.


    Across from him in a less elaborate but equally comfortable chair was a chubby man with a receding hairline. He was dressed in finely cut wool doublet embroidered with intricate flowers. On his head was a thick gold circlet.


    Despite his aging and corpulent appearance, he sat as regal as any man Fraius had ever seen, and the assassin couldn¡¯t help but feel slightly intimidated by the man¡¯s presence. He would never admit such a weakness, especially not to Lord Longinus.


    This was Drahius, High King of the Lakes and Lord of Fennland. He had requested a meeting with Lord Longinus and His Radiance insisted that Fraius join in the meeting. Not as a participant, but as an observer and display of the power available to him. Fraius didn¡¯t understand why. He was in no condition to intimidate anyone.


    ¡°You can be assured, your highness,¡± Longinus said, ¡°that the Courageous Order of Heavens will not interfere with your plans. In fact, we would be happy to offer any resources at our disposal to support your endeavor. With certain concessions, of course.¡±


    King Drahius had just outlined his plans for an invasion of Camulan. He insisted it was limited in scope and was only as a response to the raids and military buildup that had been occurring in the area of Fort Camulan. Longinus was trying to convince him that it was possible to expand that scope. Why not march all the way to Teorton?


    ¡°What sort of concessions?¡±


    Longinus smiled, ¡°Nothing extravagant, of course. I think having your youngest son come to the Fortress of Heaven to learn about us would do.¡±


    He reached out to the table between the two, lifted his cup of tea and took a sip. ¡°Oh, and of course, a grant of land to build temples in every city.¡±


    ¡°Not extravagant, you say?¡± Drahius said. Fraius could tell by the expression on his face that he was not pleased with that request. He would need some convincing.


    ¡°Rumors are that there has been a large buildup at Fort Camulan. It would be difficult to take. It would cost many lives.¡± Longinus returned his cup to the table. ¡°Oh, I am also informed that King Llarwyn¡¯s youngest son, the Prince Aeolwyn is stationed at the Fort. What a prize he would make.¡±


    Longinus leaned back and gestured to Fraius. ¡°We could deliver him to you.¡±


    Drahius couldn¡¯t help but smile. He didn¡¯t say anything at first, just looked around the room, weighing his options. ¡°Let¡¯s consider your proposal a starting point in these negotiations.¡±


    He leaned back in his chair and emptied his cup of tea. The king didn¡¯t know it, but he had lost already. He was going to give Lord Longinus everything he asked for.

 23: The Tower

    The sun shining in from the small arrow slit was his only indication that there was a world outside of this room. Not that the room was particularly drab or dreary. On the contrary. The room was, by all accounts, plush. It was large enough to make the massive four-poster bed look small. A writing desk that could be considered a supper table stood in one corner, and a massive, mostly empty armoire sat in another.


    Great tapestries depicting wild hunts of strange creatures hung from the walls, and floor standing candleholders provided light, thought with a short supply of candles, they were a feeble attempt to beat back the darkness, especially at night.


    So Ulfnar spent most of his time staring out the arrow slit. Because of its short field of view, there wasn¡¯t much to see; only a small amount of greenery, a beach and the ocean. Mostly he watched the animals. Dogs, foxes, and squirrels frequented the beach, chasing away the seagulls and pelicans, occasionally they would catch their meal, and fight among themselves for the honor of eating it.


    If he was lucky, a pod of whales or dolphins would swim across his view. They were massive, majestic creatures. The dolphins would play among themselves and would frequently be found chasing the occasional ship that passed by.


    When he first arrived at the tower, he would yell out at the ships, hoping to be heard, but it was no use; they were too far away to hear, and would be reluctant to intervene besides. They just kept sailing by, past the tower, away to destinations unknown. He longed to be sailing with them.


    He still had no idea where he was, or the identity of his captor. After being taken aboard Commodore Tyrec¡¯s vessel, he was stowed below for at least two weeks by his count. He had to admit though that the dank and dark conditions of the hold weren¡¯t particularly conducive to counting sunrises, so he counted meals instead, though he had been fed on an irregular schedule.


    When the boat docked, they covered his head in a sack, unloaded him like cargo and threw him into a carriage. After a long and bumpy ride, he was brought here, head still covered in a sack. He was led up a long staircase by several men. Led might be a polite term. Considering the difficulty of a blind man navigating the stairs, he was essentially dragged. They only removed the sack once he had been deposited in this room.


    His captors had provided him with ample food, wine, and writing materials, but no company. The only human interaction he¡¯d had in the last two years was the jailors bringing him food and replacing his chamber pot. They only grunted when asked questions and shoved him back if he got too close to the door.


    The only company he had was a bookshelf full of books and a small doll that had been left behind by the room¡¯s previous occupant. He named the doll Lina. She wasn¡¯t the best conversationalist, but he endured her vacant eyes and rude comments just to have someone to talk to.


    He wrote letters to everyone he could think of. His father, his mother, Aeolwyn, Jeolm, even his brother Alfyn. The guards dutifully took the letters, but whether they sent them was unclear. What was clear was that he didn¡¯t ever receive a response.


    Sometimes he would write his own responses, mostly from his family. He kept them in the desk drawer and would bring them out and read them when he felt lonely. His mother tells him that Aeolwyn is doing very well at Fort Camulan and misses him a great deal. Fillya has promised to come visit him when she can, and his father is planning to send an army to rescue him.


    Wolfryn writes that he has already put together a group of men who are making their way to the tower and they should be there within a fortnight. Of course, Ulfnar wrote that almost a year ago, and there still was no sign of him or his father¡¯s army. But it was still comforting to read.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡®You could just hang yourself,¡¯ Lina said suddenly. The doll knew of his loneliness and was of the belief that neither of them would ever see the outside world ever again.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been over this Lina,¡± he replied. ¡°How exactly would we do that?¡±


    ¡®The sheets, numskull. Just throw them over the rafters, climb onto the desk, and jump!¡¯


    He walked over to the bed and grabbed her, bringing her close to his face. Sometimes he just wanted to throttle the life out of her, but he knew that would be no use. She was just a doll. The best he could do would be to throw her out the arrow slit and let her fall to her doom.


    He wouldn¡¯t, though. He couldn¡¯t bear to be without her company.


    ¡°What happened last time we tried that? Do you remember?¡±


    ¡®The sheet ripped,¡¯ she said. ¡®But one failure is no reason to give up trying.¡¯


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hang myself,¡± he said. ¡°And why are you so mean? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be happy and comforting?¡±


    ¡®The smile on my face is just an illusion.¡¯


    He had been the one to put the smile on her face. He couldn¡¯t stand the fact that she stared at him with no mouth and blank eyes. The smile made her seem less judgmental. It didn¡¯t change her personality though. She was just as angry as ever.


    Not that she was always encouraging Ulfnar¡¯s suicide. She could show great moments of tenderness, especially when he was feeling the worst. It had been her idea to write the answers from his family, and she had been right. It did help. He just wished she was always like that.


    ¡°How long have we been in here?¡± he asked.


    ¡®Two years, if your reckoning is right.¡¯


    Two years. Two years with almost no interaction. He¡¯d had no contact with the outside world; he had no idea what was happening out there. As far as he knew, Aeolwyn could already be dead. He hoped not. He hoped that his little brother was as strong and resourceful as Ulfnar himself was. And why wouldn¡¯t he be? They were kin, after all.


    ¡°How long have you been here, Lina?¡±


    ¡®I never counted the years until you came,¡¯ she said. ¡®But it¡¯s been a long time.¡¯


    A long time. He knew better than to ask what he really wanted to know ¨C what happened to her owner. He hoped that Lina was just forgotten. Not that she would know what would happen. She was, after all, just a doll.


    ¡°I wish we knew who was keeping us here.¡±


    ¡®You could always ask.¡¯


    He threw his head back and laughed. Ask she says. Like it was that easy. Like he hadn¡¯t asked a hundred times already and only received grunts in response. Like he hadn¡¯t tried to slip out the door when it was opened. The scar on his cheek had dissuaded him of that notion. At least for now.


    ¡°Maybe we can go through the events again.¡±


    ¡®Oh, yay,¡¯ Lina said.


    ¡°Our only bit of information is Commodore Tyrec. A well-dressed ship¡¯s captain who Jeolm was clearly afraid of. He introduced himself as a commander and not a captain, so we know that he was in charge of more than that one ship.


    ¡°Also, since he introduced himself as Commodore Tyrec and not Lord Tyrec or whatever, we can assume he isn¡¯t of noble birth. The fact that he recognized me immediately though suggests that he is connected to the nobility somewhere, either by his employer, or something else. And since he knew what ship I was on, he certainly has some connections in the Docks.¡±


    ¡®And all that means what?¡¯


    ¡°Absolutely nothing,¡± Ulfnar said. ¡°The only thing I can go on is his strange accent, but that could mean anything. Any noble from anywhere could have hired someone from a faraway land. They probably would prefer it that way. And even if that wasn¡¯t the case, the fact that he was a sailor could mean he came from anywhere and moved to Teorton. It¡¯s just impossible to tell.¡±


    He had been around and around on this hundreds of times already. Lina had listened patiently every time he went through it. They still hadn¡¯t come to any conclusion on who had been holding him captive, or why. He¡¯d just dumped him in this tower and left him here to rot for the last two years.


    At least they hadn¡¯t tortured him. Well, that wasn¡¯t exactly true. Leaving him here without any access to human interaction or news of the outside world was as much a torture as burning his eyes out with a hot poker.


    Still, he endured. He had to. He was still planning his escape. Eventually one of the guards would get complacent and leave the door open or leave something behind that he could use as a weapon. He just had to sit, watch, and bide his time.

 24: A New Assignment

    Veila, the general¡¯s newest page brought Aeolwyn the summons. He was to report to Alaric at the stables immediately. He rushed off while Veila went away to do other tasks. He set off from the training yard at a brisk walk, leaving Tyrik and Diryn to their sparring.


    It had been a week since they¡¯d returned from their patrol with the evidence of an incursion into their territory by Fennish soldiers. Alaric hadn¡¯t said much during Aeolwyn¡¯s report. He just thanked him and dismissed him. If he had any opinions on what they saw, he kept them to himself.


    He waved at Reiva as he reached the stables. She was near the general mucking out one of the stalls. She looked tired and dirty and in need of a haircut, but she seemed happy to be out of her cell and out in the sunshine. He was glad for her.


    The general was brushing down one of his two horses. He was very fond of them and was regularly seen doing the work a stable hand should be responsible for. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t need to ask why; he did the same thing to Sefalus, and frequently at the same time. Nothing was usually said between the two, except for a request to borrow a brush or the like.


    ¡°Corporal Aeolwyn reporting as ordered,¡± he said as he approached the general.


    The general didn¡¯t turn or otherwise acknowledged him. He just continued to brush his horse, patting the beast and whispering to it on occasion. He loved the animal. Aeolwyn knew that long before now.


    ¡°Well done on your patrol, corporal,¡± Alaric said without turning. ¡°Your analysis is spot on with my own conclusions.¡±


    Aeolwyn smiled. It felt good to hear the compliment. General Alaric was sparing with kind words, but when he said them, he really meant it. He wished his father was as generous with his words.


    ¡°I sent a fast courier to Lord-General Harmin with your report. The response came just this morning. They agree on the assessment and have asked me to send you to infiltrate Tinar Outpost on the Fennish side of the river and find out what they¡¯re up to.¡±


    Aeolwyn smiled. A new adventure! Much better than the boring patrols they¡¯d been going on for the past two years. Infiltrating an outpost on the Fennish side of the river? That was bound to be exciting!


    ¡°Me and my team are at your service, general.¡±


    The general turned and set the brush down. He looked hard at Aeolwyn, his gaze seemed to pierce the prince¡¯s skin and see deep into his soul.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it, son. You¡¯re not ready for a mission like this. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with your family in the capital, but this is unusual. Someone with Harmin¡¯s ear seems to want to put you into mortal danger.¡±


    That was ridiculous. They were his family. It was impossible for any of them to want any harm to come to him. They all loved him. Even Alfyn, though he had a hard way of showing it.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, general. I agree with them. We need to know what they¡¯re planning. Even if they didn¡¯t want me to go, I would volunteer for this mission.¡±


    Alaric rolled his eyes and shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re 14, boy. You still think you¡¯re indestructible. I¡¯ll admit that you¡¯ve proven you can handle both your sword and a command, but can you handle a stealthy mission? This isn¡¯t something you can cut your way out of.¡±


    Aeolwyn smiled, reached out, and pet the general¡¯s horse. The horse didn¡¯t shy away from his touch. ¡°I got into the Star Children¡¯s temple.¡±


    ¡°Exactly what I mean, son. You got in, and then got caught.¡± The general shook his head again. He grabbed a softer brush from the stall and began running it over the horse. ¡°It¡¯s useless to argue about it. I have my orders, and I¡¯ve given them to you.¡±


    The general was right, of course. He would have to be much more careful this time. He would be. He had learned a lot since he had snuck into the temple, and now had a whole group of people who he knew he could count on.


    ¡°When do we leave? I¡¯ll have to prepare the men.¡±


    The general turned back to him. ¡°No squad,¡± he said. ¡°This is much too delicate a job. The orders were to send you alone, but nail that part of the order to the wall. You can bring three of your companions.¡±


    ¡°Egnever and Galafar for certain,¡± he said. They were his most trustworthy associates, and his friends. Egne had been invaluable during the Infiltration of the temple, and he had come to rely on Galafar¡¯s advice, perception, and skill with a sword.


    ¡°I thought as much,¡± the general said. ¡°Think on the third though. The fort is a tough place to get into. It¡¯s nothing like the Star Children¡¯s temple; there will be observation outposts, sentries, and tall walks with barred doors. All of them will attack first and ask questions of your corpse.¡±


    He was right. This would be nothing like the Star Temple. Every step across the river would be into enemy territory. They would have to guard their tracks and stay out of sight the entire way to the fort.


    ¡°How do we get inside?¡± he asked.


    The general shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not in command of this mission,¡± he said.


    Reiva set her muckrake down and stepped over to the two. ¡°I can get you inside,¡± she said.


    Aeolwyn and the general both turned to her. The general scowled knowing that she had been listening in on their conversation. Aeolwyn was inclined to agree. This was too sensitive a topic to have been speaking about openly.


    ¡°How?¡± they asked in near unison.


    She smiled, with a glimmer in her eyes. ¡°I got to your tent in the middle of a guarded camp, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Infiltrating a camp at night is a lot different than sneaking into a guarded fort,¡± Aeolwyn said. The general nodded in agreement.


    ¡°It is, especially with three other noisemakers tagging along,¡± she said. ¡°But if you want to get into Tinar, get the intel you need, and get back out, I¡¯m your only chance.¡±


    Alaric stepped forward. ¡°What makes you so sure, assassin?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done it before. I know the layout of the outpost and the surrounding lands. I know the patrol schedules and when they change the guards. I even know the combination to the commander¡¯s safe.¡±


    Alaric stepped even closer, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. The threat was evident. ¡°Who do you work for, woman?¡±


    She stepped back and picked up the muckrake again. ¡°Myself,¡± she answered. ¡°But I¡¯ve had a lot of clients. Many with opposing loyalties. I¡¯ve worked for the king of the Fenns, and against him. Same as now.¡±


    ¡°Then where are your loyalties?¡± the general asked.


    ¡°My loyalties have always been with the paycheck,¡± she answered. ¡°I was a thief and an assassin. I didn¡¯t ask about the politics and didn¡¯t care. I was hired to do a job, and I did it.¡±


    ¡°Was?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    Reiva said nothing. She just took the rake and started cleaning the stall again. If Aeolwyn didn¡¯t think it was possible of her, he would think she was embarrassed. Talking as though killing people for money was now in her past was a strange slip of the tongue. He wondered if there was a deeper meaning to it.


    ¡°General?¡± Aeolwyn asked. He didn¡¯t have to say what he wanted. The general knew he thought Reiva could be trusted and that he was willing to risk his life on that account.


    ¡°I¡¯m not in command of this mission, corporal,¡± he said. ¡°If you want to take this woman with you, that¡¯s your decision. And if she gets you killed, well, that¡¯s also your choice.¡±


    He nodded at Alaric and saluted. ¡°General,¡± he said. He turned and headed away from the stables. ¡°Walk with me Reiva,¡± he said. If the general was offended by Aeolwyn deciding their conversation was through, he said nothing. He just turned and went back to his horse. Reiva set the rake down and followed Aeolwyn.


    ¡°I need complete honesty from you,¡± he said. ¡°Can I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.


    He wanted to believe her, but he also wanted to return from this mission alive. If she were lying, he had no way of proving it, besides her actions. So far, besides the single attempt on his life, she had appeared trustworthy. But that could just be an attempt to make him trust her enough to bare his throat to her knife.


    But something still didn¡¯t make sense. ¡°When we were in Wickshire, you had plenty of opportunities to get out of your manacles and kill me. That was the job you were paid to do. Why didn¡¯t you do it?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She hesitated before she answered. She looked around at the soldiers who stared at her and scowled as she walked by. She ignored them and continued walking.


    ¡°Have you ever gone hunting?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he answered. He was a prince; of course he had gone hunting. That was one of his father¡¯s favorite pastimes. Aeolwyn could still remember the pride he felt when he¡¯d killed his first deer, and how excited his father had been. It was one of the rare occasions where his father seemed to truly be proud of him. They held a feast that night and Aeolwyn was the guest of honor.


    ¡°You know then, when hunting big game that you don¡¯t just immediately go after them. You follow them first. Watch their behavior. Get to know who they are. Then, when the time is right, you loose your arrow and come home a hero.¡±


    ¡°So you were studying your prey?¡± he said. ¡°Seems a long time to study us.¡±


    ¡°At first,¡± she said. ¡°I needed to know where you were weakest. I couldn¡¯t just kill you and then flee I needed to know soundly you slept. I needed to make sure that none of you would wake while I was doing it.¡±


    ¡°You would do it while we were sleeping? How cowardly.¡±


    ¡°Of course I would. I¡¯m not stupid.¡±


    She fixed him with a gaze that told him whatever thoughts he held onto regarding chivalry were foolish. He didn¡¯t entirely disagree, but without honor, what would they have?


    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you?¡±


    She suddenly started breathing heavily. She sat down hard on the grass besides the blacksmith and held her head between her hands. She didn¡¯t look up at him, or at any of the soldiers who were suddenly staring at her.


    He put his hand on her shoulder. ¡°Are you ok? What happened?¡±


    She looked up at him. Her eyes were red, though no tears flowed from them. She looked angry and scared at the same time. Then lonely, then remorseful. No wonder she had to sit down. That was a lot of emotions to feel at once.


    ¡°Xabat happened,¡± she said finally. ¡°What he said shook me to the core. I had to completely rethink my life and my priorities. Suddenly, my contract with Aylonzo didn¡¯t seem so important.¡±


    Aeolwyn sat down in front of her and took her hands. ¡°You can tell me,¡± he said. ¡°I will keep your confidence.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Not yet.¡± She got to her feet and helped him back up as well. ¡°Just believe me when I say you can trust me with your life.¡±


    He wanted to; he really did. He still had some doubts, but he couldn¡¯t forget the effect Xabat had on his friends. Galafar broke down in tears. Egnever shocked and angry that he was where he was meant to be.


    That was why Aeolwyn hadn¡¯t wanted the soothsayer to continue. He didn¡¯t want to know what shocking revelation he would have had for him. He didn¡¯t want to know what horrible things awaited him in his future.


    But it was enough. Even if he didn¡¯t fully trust her, he believed that he trusted her enough not to deliver him into the enemy¡¯s hands. He believed that she could get into the outpost and get them back out again. Especially if there was money on the line.


    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a purse of coins. It wasn¡¯t much, just a month¡¯s pay that he didn¡¯t need. His father had sent him along with enough gold to last him for years. He kept the chest hidden, of course. No sense in showing it off to the rest of the soldiers. Even if they weren¡¯t murderers and cutthroats, knowing that much money was around could change even the most loyal man.


    He handed the purse over to her. ¡°I promised to hire you as my bodyguard,¡± he said. ¡°Consider this a down payment.¡±


    She took the purse and felt its weight. ¡°Not as much as I¡¯m used to working for, but¡­¡± she held up her arms, showing the mud, muck, and manure that covered them. ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± she said.


    ¡°I promise not to send someone to kill you if you fail to protect me.¡±


    She smiled and gave him a wink. ¡°No one kills you but me.¡±


    He laughed. He could hear the truth in her words, but it wasn¡¯t a threat this time. She meant it as an offer of protection. She would allow no harm to come to him so long as she was around.


    It was getting dark, and officially, Aeolwyn was off duty. He still needed to inform his companions of the mission. He could always have them summoned, but that felt a little impersonal and inappropriate considering the sensitive nature of their task.


    Besides, he knew exactly where they would be: The Snickleway.


    The Snickleway was a tavern in Westgate that was frequented by most of the officers of Fort Camulan; at least the soldiers with money to spend. It was, all things considered, expensive. Especially considering the cheaper pubs of Foregate.


    The regular soldiers usually spent their time at the pubs in the lower quarter. Egnever and Galafar, though technically qualifying as some of the lower paid soldiers, came from money and had plenty to spend at inns of higher reputation. Which wasn¡¯t to say that the Snickleway was a snobby tavern like one might see in the upper quarters of Teorton, but, compared to the other offerings in city that was sprouting up outside of Fort Camulan, it was as classy as it came.


    The Snickleway was well positioned just outside Westgate. It was a large stone building with two floors; the second floor hosted several rooms that could be rented, but were frequently empty, unless someone very important was visiting the fort and there was no room in the barracks for them.


    The main room consisted of several common rooms of varying sizes. The main common room, where the bar sat was reasonably small, with only room for a handful of tables. One of the other rooms was excruciatingly small, able to only host three tables. The other, larger rooms were in the back, down a small hallway.


    The interior was made of wood, reinforced in a variety of materials, including stone, plaster, and mud. Many of the timbers were soot stained, and some were nearly completely burnt through. The story the innkeeper told was that the tavern had once been made of wood and had burned, nearly to the ground during one of the Fennish assaults on Fort Camulan. When it was rebuilt, wood was scarce, having been used to build siege engines, so they were forced to reuse many of the original timbers.


    He found Egne and Galafar in the back, in one of the hidden alcoves that only had room for a single table; not large or separated enough to call it its own room. It was a little cubby that faced an area beside the bar where troubadours and other entertainers performed.


    ¡°Well look who they let out of her cage,¡± Egne said when they saddled up with their drinks. They both were already several drinks in and were beginning to slur their words.


    ¡°You gonna eat that?¡± Reiva asked, pointing at the half-finished plate of chicken that had been shoved aside to make room for more beer glasses. She didn¡¯t wait for an answer before pulling the plate over and digging in like she had never eaten before.


    ¡°Easy now,¡± Galafar said. ¡°You can order your own, you know.¡±


    Aeolwyn didn¡¯t blame her. The meals she had been eating were small and of poor quality. While better than the scraps they fed to the hogs, the difference between the two was slight. She had lost a significant amount of weight since her captivity, and she hadn¡¯t started with a whole lot of extra to begin with.


    ¡°What brings you to our humble little hovel, corporal?¡± Egne asked.


    ¡°Can¡¯t a soldier drink with his friends?¡± Aeolwyn asked. The beer was sour and bitter. He still didn¡¯t like it. He preferred the table wine that his father would bring out on special occasions. But he was a soldier now, and enjoying beer was expected of him.


    ¡°No,¡± Galafar said. ¡°It¡¯s improper for a commanding officer to fraternize with those under his command.¡±


    ¡°You sound like Sir Jom,¡± Aeolwyn said, and he meant it. Sir Jom drilled all sorts of different rules and regulations into Aeolwyn during their study time. He claimed it would undermine the commander¡¯s authority and could make those under his command lose respect for his decisions. Aeolwyn followed this rule with most of those under his command, but this was Galafar and Egne! They weren¡¯t like the others.


    ¡°Can I get another one of these?¡± Reiva grabbed a serving girl as she walked by and thrust the empty plate into her face. The woman scowled but quickly regained her composure. She smiled, nodded, and kept walking away.


    ¡°Sir Jom had the right of it,¡± Galafar said.


    Aeolwyn grabbed the serving girl again before she could get too far away. ¡°And another round of drinks for the whole table.¡± He handed her a gold crown. Her face lit up at seeing the money. He was sure that they saw their share of gold crowns here, but not often. Most people would be paying in silvers and coppers.


    ¡°We have a mission,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°And not one we can take the whole squad on.¡±


    ¡°Sounds dangerous,¡± Egne said. He showed no signs of being afraid though. He smiled and leaned in, ready to hear all about it.


    ¡°I have been ordered to cross the river and infiltrate an outpost, gather intelligence, and bring it back to the general,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°I¡¯m allowed to bring only 3 others.¡±


    Egne looked around and deliberately using his finger, he counted the four of them at the table. He then went back and counted two more times. His finger stopped at Reiva.


    ¡°She¡¯s coming?¡± he asked. He looked like he had just bitten into something rotten, and didn¡¯t hide his expression.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Aeolwyn replied. ¡°She is now in my service.¡±


    ¡°Your very own assassin,¡± Galafar put in.


    ¡°How do we know she won¡¯t kill you?¡± Egne asked.


    Reiva put down the chicken scraps she was eating and leaned forward. ¡°My loyalty to my previous employer stopped when he sent someone to kill me.¡±


    Egne started to say something, then stopped and closed his mouth. He just nodded and buried his face in his beer. Reiva didn¡¯t add anything to her comment. She just drank her beer and went back to her meal.


    A few moments later a troubadour came out with a flourish. He waived his red cloak around, did a few somersaults and landed on the small step that served as his stage. The place erupted in cheers as soon as he made his appearance.


    He bowed with a flourish and immediately brought up his lute and started into a song:


    ¡°I once knew a maiden so fair,


    I toyed with her heart, tickled her hair,


    She smiled and took me up the stair,


    And there toyed with me without nary a care!¡±


    Laugher immediately erupted at the end of the verse. Soldiers particularly liked the sort of bawdy songs with suggestive lyrics. Particularly when they were already deep into the drinks


    ¡°I found myself smitten with this comely lass,


    She had it all, looks, wit, and class!


    Sharing barbs with me she replied with uncommon sass,


    Then she turned around and showed me her¡­¡±


    He paused for a moment, looking around at the audience. They jeered and cheered waiting for him to finish the rhyme. Some even shouted out what they thought the next word should be.


    He waved them off and continued:


    ¡°Ankles!¡± He shouted. Laugher, boos, and cheers erupted from assembled group of drunken soldiers.


    ¡°Alas, poor, wretched me. I found myself smitten,


    I sang songs about her, ballads I have written,


    Yet, she cared not for me, just the money I had in my mitten,


    For the night she spent with me warm inside her kitten!¡±


    The audience screamed and yelled and cheered when he finished the last line. Money was thrown, drinks were spilled. A harmless fight or two might have broken out in a few corners of the bar.


    It went on into the night. For as long as the troubadour sang, Egne insisted they stay and drink. When Aeolwyn thought he couldn¡¯t hold anymore, Reiva insisted that he keep going. He was their commander, and he couldn¡¯t embarrass them by not being able to keep up with the drinking.


    It was a rowdy night of comedic and vulgar songs, and the most fun Aeolwyn had had in quite a long time. Considering the danger of the mission before them, it was good to let loose and enjoy themselves on a night that could be their last.


    It was extremely late by the time they stumbled out of the bar. The main gate was closed, and they had to enter through the wicket gate. None of the guards were particularly pleased to see them arrive so late, though it was not unexpected for off-duty soldiers to roll in from the bars at all hours of the night. Officially they were to be reported to the general, but a few silver coins ensured that their names would be left off the list.


    Aeolwyn had to be carried across the courtyard. For some reason, his legs didn¡¯t work anymore, and he found that the ground would come up and hit him in the face if he tried to walk. Reva didn¡¯t let him down, though. She made sure he found his way back to his quarters and landed safely on his bed.

 25: A Surprising Secret

    Reiva spent the night on his floor. No one made any comment that she had not reported back to her cell. He supposed that now that he had recruited her on this mission, she was his responsibility. She made no complaint about the coldness of his room, nor about the hardness of his floor.


    She had already gotten up and left, chipper as though she had been walking through fields of dandelions all night, or maybe in her case, fields of the bodies of people who tried to kill her. The latter would be what would make her happy.


    Aeolwyn on the other hand¡­was sick. Sicker than he¡¯d ever been. He spent half the morning vomiting, and the other half wishing he was dead. His head pounded like it was being trampled by a hundred horses, and his stomach lurched every time he moved. This wasn¡¯t good. They had a mission to go on today. All he could do was make a feeble attempt to sleep and pray he felt better by dusk¡ªtheir planned departure time.


    Reiva, for her part, was exceptional. She behaved more like a servant than she did a bodyguard. She brought him food and water, and made sure that he ate and drank them, even when his body tried to regurgitate everything. She sat there and made him force his food down. He hated every minute of it. She told him he would thank her later.


    By the time the afternoon came around, Aeolwyn was feeling much better. The nausea had mostly passed, and he was able to get out of bed and move around without much trouble. He still had a slight headache, but it was manageable.


    They grabbed their last hot dinner in the Snickleway. His stomach lurched as they entered. The tavern smelled like stale beer and piss. Something his nose failed to notice the previous night. Its vile and penetrating stench that threatened to not only upend his dinner, but also never leave his nostrils.


    ¡°Does this place always smell like this?¡± he asked.


    Egne and Galafar shot looks at each other. ¡°You didn¡¯t notice it before?¡± Galafar asked.


    ¡°Hangover nose,¡± Revia explained. They all smiled and nodded knowingly.


    Egne patted Aeolwyn on the arm and ruffled his hair. Aeolwyn pulled his head away and frowned.


    ¡°The first of many, I¡¯m sure,¡± Egne said. ¡°You were really putting them down last night.¡±


    ¡°One more for the road?¡± Galafar asked, smiling.


    His stomach encouraged him not to relive the events from the night before. Just the thought of beer made him nauseous enough to spill his dinner right there on the table. It took some effort to fight back the urge, and if he was honest, it would serve the rest of them right for teasing him about it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get a move on,¡± he said when he finally was able to speak.


    They slowly made their way out of Westgate and, when out of the view of the town, turned to head north. They chose to take the circuitous route to the banks of the Tyr to avoid any suspicion of what they were doing. Sure, they left through Northgate many times on their patrols, but they never did so at night. General Alaric was certain that there were Fennish spies among the dwellers outside the fort who would be reporting back anything that looked suspicious. Four soldiers leaving on a patrol at sunset was already suspicious. If they had left anywhere near the river, that would have been enough to make a report on.


    They chose to make their crossing of the Tyr at the same spot where the Fenns had made theirs. Aeolwyn figured that since the ground had already been trampled up from their incursion into Camulan, Fennish scouts would be less likely to notice a counter-incursion in a place where the ground was already a muddy mess.


    By the time they had reached the bank, it was getting near midnight. Because of the darkness, it had been a long, slow walk. Reiva insisted that they carry no lights as the same light that would guide them would make their approach apparent to anyone keeping an eye out for such things. Aeolwyn agreed, though it made the trip difficult and dangerous.


    Egne and Galafar had snuck ahead and stashed a small rowboat in a cleft behind some rocks while they were still staggeringly drunk. They had even thought to stow some packs with provisions and dark cloaks for all of them. They had come up with the plan while Reiva was carrying Aeolwyn back, and even then, he was amazed at their drunken ingenuity.


    They managed to get the small dingy in the water without much issue. As soon as the noise settled down, they waited, but saw no indication that they had been noticed, or even that anyone was on the opposite bank keeping watch at all.


    They could only fit two people in the boat, so they had to take turns going one at a time. Galafar, being the strongest of the group, offered to pilot the small vessel back and forth as each member of the group was ferried across.


    Reiva insisted on being the first to cross. Egne protested, worrying that she would flee the moment she landed, but she stayed true to her word. She did disappear for a moment, alarming Galafar, but she quickly returned giving him the all clear signal to let them know there was no ambush waiting for them.


    As soon as all of them were across, they lifted the boat out of the water and hid it nearby under some brush. It wasn¡¯t the best cover, but they hoped to be back before daybreak, so Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t particularly concerned that anyone would find it before they got back.


    He wished he had the rest of his men; he would feel much safer with them surrounding him. They now in enemy territory and there was no question that if caught, they wouldn¡¯t be killed¡ªthey would be put to the question.


    It was precisely that reason his men were not pleased when he told them they wouldn¡¯t be coming along. Particularly Brakus who had begun treating Aeolwyn as a little brother and insisted on looking out for him. Not that he did that where the other men could hear; at those times he ensured everyone knew who was in charge.


    He put Brakus in command, and the gold he left with them to finance their trips to Foregate helped alleviate their aggravation. Nothing like bribing the men with liquor to keep them happy. It was a time-honored tradition among soldiers.


    The walk to the outpost was even slower than the one to the riverbank. Reiva insisted they take every precaution not to be seen, even on this moonless night. They had to be sure that no twig was snapped, and no branch was moved out of its way.


    Reiva didn¡¯t explain how she knew the way to the outpost. There was a lot of mystery about her background, and she still kept her past close to her chest. Besides telling him about Aylonzo, she had not given him any significant information on how she had become such a skilled assassin at such a young age. Though she hadn¡¯t told him how old she was, he judged that she couldn¡¯t be more than 5 or 6 years older than him.


    As they got closer, Reiva got even more cautious. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know how that was possible. They walked even slower and would stop for a few moments while she went and scouted ahead. It took two excruciatingly slow hours before they reached the outside of the outpost.


    It was a wooden tower only about four stories high, with a lookout platform on the top. Though it was in the middle of the woods, they had clear-cut the trees for about 30 years in each direction. There was no wall or moat surrounding it, but large braziers burned brightly, and guards were patrolling it regularly. Like the keep at Fort Camulan, there was no doorway on the ground floor. Instead, a small stairway led to the only entrance. It was guarded at the top and bottom by two pairs of soldiers. A road ran alongside the outpost heading further east into Fennland.


    ¡°Look at all the guards,¡± Aeolwyn whispered. ¡°How are we going to get in?¡±


    ¡°I could try a sleep spell,¡± Egne suggested.


    Reiva grinned. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bring you all this way without a plan.¡± She reached out and squeezed Aeolwyn¡¯s shoulder. Her touch felt electric. ¡°This is what you hired me for.¡±


    She led them back into the woods, just as slowly as before. She took them around the outpost to the eastern side and led them deeper into the woods. After another 15 minutes of careful walking, she stopped in front of what looked like an old collapsed well. It was set in a triangular depression with a tree growing from the base. The roots of the tree snaked down from the exposed dirt and made their way into the well.


    ¡°You want us to climb down the well?¡± Galafar asked skeptically. Aeolwyn was inclined to agree. He was as capable of climbing a tree as anyone, but climbing down a well didn¡¯t sound particularly appetizing, especially with his armor weighing him down and Woebringer likely to get in the way.


    ¡°If you¡¯re thirsty,¡± she said. She walked down into the depression, stepping around the well, and lifting the roots aside revealed a passageway. She gestured inside with her free arm. ¡°After you, your highness.¡± She gave him a wink.


    He followed her down into the passageway and waited near the entrance until the rest of the group followed. Reiva took his hand and led them deeper until the entrance was out of sight. Turning to Egne she said, ¡°A light, if you please.¡±


    Egne¡¯s hand started glowing and a ball of blue light appeared just over his upturned palm. It cast a soft glow on the bare stone and earthen walls. More tree roots hung listlessly from the ceiling creating the feeling of arms reaching out to grab them. The hallway led further into the deep until the light faded into darkness.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Galafar asked.


    ¡°A secret exit,¡± Reiva replied. ¡°I think it¡¯s meant to protect the soldiers from starving during a siege, but I don¡¯t think anyone knows it exists anymore.¡±


    ¡°How do you know all this?¡± Egne asked.


    ¡°I was held prisoner here once.¡±


    ¡°One of these days, I am going to get you staggeringly drunk and you¡¯re going to tell me your life story,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    Reiva chuckled and led them into the dark. She was not going to give up the information on her life easily. He respected her right to keep it to herself, but as her employer, he felt that it was important to know what had brought her to where she was. Besides that, he had a right to know where her loyalties truly lay. She assured him she would be loyal to him, but without knowing her history, he had no way of knowing if that was really true.


    She led them down through the tunnel for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only about ten minutes. It ended in what appeared to be a wooden wall built straight into the dirt. It consisted of a few vertical posts dug deep into the earth, and it was covered over with horizontal boards from edge to edge.


    ¡°What now?¡± Galafar asked. ¡°This looks like a dead end.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s meant to,¡± Reiva answered. She leaned forward and put her ear up against the wall and listened carefully. Aeolwyn wondered what she was listening for, he couldn¡¯t hear anything. No voices, no footsteps, nothing.


    Satisfied, she reached around one of the beams and found a latch, which she lifted. The whole wall between the beams swung open on some unseen hinges. Whoever had built this secret door had done a masterful job.


    The basement room it opened into was as dark as the passageway they had just come through. It was filled with barrels and crates and other unidentified supplies, all covered with dust. A set of posts lined the middle of the room. A door hung listlessly open on the far side of the room; behind it a narrow stairwell led up.


    She turned to Aeolwyn and tied his black cloak tightly around his waist. ¡°Don¡¯t want that chainmail of yours giving us away.¡±


    The stairs led into an open mess hall that was completely empty. A series of long tables were set up along the length of the room. An alcove to one side housed a dark fireplace and a set of thick, stout tables with a variety of knives and pots on it.


    The sounds of multiple men snoring came from a set of doors on the wall opposite the alcove. Another open doorway was along the wall furthest from them.


    Reiva walked silently along the wall until she made it to the double doors. She pressed her ear to one of the doors again. Satisfied that no one was awake, she motioned for the others to make their way to the far doorway.


    ¡°Strange to put the barracks next to the mess,¡± Galafar said softly. Reiva shot him an angry glance and put an index finger up to her lip. The implication was clear. Keep that mouth shut.


    She led them down more hallways, up several flights of stairs, past the armory and into a few storage closets when she heard a patrol coming through. He wasn¡¯t sure how long she had spent here, but she knew the place well. Much better than a simple prisoner should have. Come to think of it, he hadn¡¯t seen any dungeon or cells or a place where a prisoner would have been kept.


    Finally, when they reached the top floor, she stopped in front of a non-descript door in the middle of a similarly non-descript hallway. After listening against the door and content there was no sign of an occupant, she opened the door and whisked the group inside, before closing the door behind them.


    The room could have been a mirror for General Alaric¡¯s office, but smaller. It was spartan in its decoration, only housing a desk with a simple chair, a cabinet beside the desk, and a small rack upon which was a sword and a stout shield.


    Atop the desk were several neat stacks of paper, which looked to be orders both received and to be given. An inkwell and quill stood neatly off to one side. In the middle of the desk was a single unfolded paper that appeared as of yet to be unfiled.


    Aeolwyn read the paper:


    Commander,


    The invasion is proceeding as planned and you will have all the support you need. I am told our king has secured a significant resource to ensure our victory. Please proceed according to the plan when the signal is given.


    Yours,


    General Fisborne


    He handed the note over to his companions. They were planning an invasion, and it sounded like they had gained the support of someone, but who? Another nation? An alliance with the elves of Wickshire would be devastating to Camulan. There was no way they would have the resources to fight a war against both their neighbors. Not without allies, and he doubted either Tambryne or Fortru would be interested in getting involved with the conflict.


    ¡°What kind of idiot commander leaves a message this important laying on his desk? Even if we hadn¡¯t come, there could be spies everywhere,¡± Egne said, glancing at Reiva.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± she agreed, but said nothing about Egne¡¯s implication.


    ¡°Aeolwyn?¡± Galafar said, holding out another message. He had been thumbing through the piles of paper and had pulled one out. It was a long but narrow sheet of paper that curled up around itself, suggesting that it had been brought to the outpost by a messenger pigeon.


    He took the note.


    Prince Aeolwyn reached Fort Camulan in safety. Fear not. We will ensure he will be delivered to you to do with what you will.


    Aylonzo


    Aylonzo again. Whoever he was, he was a spy, and apparently, an agent for the enemy. Who was he? Aeolwyn decided he would have to double his efforts in finding out their identity. He needed to make contact with someone he could trust in the palace who could look out for him. A man who had hired Reiva to kill him and was clearly doing so on behalf of Camulan¡¯s enemies was trouble. They needed to be rooted out and killed.


    He handed the message over to Reiva, who read it, face wide in shock. She handed the note over to Egne, who read it with nonchalance. He handed it back to Aeolwyn, who stuffed the note in his pocket. He was not going to leave this behind.


    ¡°Aeolwyn, I need to tell you something,¡± she said, and paused for a long time. She looked carefully at each of them in turn before looking back to Aeolwyn. Her mouth opened and closed a number of times before she finally continued.


    ¡°I told you that Aylonzo hired me to kill you. He also hired the man who was sent to kill me,¡± she stopped again and looked at her shoes.


    ¡°You know who he is,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve always known.¡±


    ¡°Aeolwyn, Aylonzo is your brother. The crown prince!¡± She said. Tears began spilling from her cheeks. Her hand went to her face and stayed there, covering any expression she might have had. She slumped down in the sole chair, face buried in her hands.


    ¡°Alfyn?¡± he said softly.


    He couldn¡¯t believe it. Why would his brother want him dead. He wouldn¡¯t! They were family. His brother loved him, even if he had a strange way of showing it. He needed to leave. He had to go to the capital and clear this all up.


    But, deep down, he knew that was futile. As the pieces began to fall into place in his mind, he could no longer hide from the truth: his brother truly did want him dead. Alfyn was the one who planned the attack on the Star Children¡¯s fort. He was the one who alerted the guards and then immediately vanished. When that backfired and Aeolwyn was exiled, he sent an assassin after him. That failed so now he was planning to deliver him to the Fenns.


    ¡°You knew,¡± he said softly. ¡°You knew and didn¡¯t tell me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, face still hidden by her hand.


    ¡°How can I trust you now? You¡¯ve hidden the most important bit of information that I¡¯ve ever had the misfortune to hear. I¡¯m sorry, Reiva, but after this, you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    She dropped her hand and raced over to him, grabbing him by his shoulders. He reached instinctively for his sword and saw Galafar do the same.


    ¡°Aeolwyn, no, please! I have nowhere else to go. If you banish me, you are sentencing me to death! I¡¯m sorry. I know I should have told you the full truth, but it¡¯s your brother. You¡¯re so young. I didn¡¯t want to hurt you like that. Knowing that your brother wanted you dead is a far worse blow to the heart than any blade of mine could ever do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost my trust, Reiva,¡± he said.


    She turned to Egne, ¡°Cast a Binder on me,¡± she said. ¡°Please!¡±


    ¡°Binder?¡± Egne asked, surprised. ¡°Are you sure? What are you planning on doing?¡±


    Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know what a binder was, but it must have been pretty serious judging from Egne¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°Reiva, if you¡¯re planning to hurt yourself¡­¡± Aeolwyn trailed off.


    ¡°Please Egne,¡± she said.


    Egne shrugged as a blue glow surrounded his hands. He mumbled an incantation under his breath and held out his hands towards Reiva. The blue glow turned red as it slowly left his hands and enveloped Reiva.


    She fell to her knees and stifled a scream as she collapsed forward onto her hands. Her body seized up and she writhed in agony.


    ¡°Egne stop!¡± Aeolwyn cried.


    Reiva shook her head, fighting her way to her knees. She held up her right hand and placed the other across her chest. She looked up at Aeolwyn, clearly in great pain. Somehow, under Egne¡¯s spell, she was going to take the Laryn Oath!


    ¡°Your highness, Prince Aeolwyn, Son of Llarwyn, King of Camulan. I beg your forgiveness,¡± she said. Her mouth contorted in pain as she forced the words out.


    ¡°I swear on the gods of Laryn and the hope for my soul and rebirth that I will never betray you. I swear fealty to you above all others. I am your vassal, and you are my lord, and may Laryn damn me and consign my soul to eternal torment if I should break this oath.¡±


    She looked at Egne and nodded. The red glow around her winked out and she collapsed on the floor, struggling to breathe. No one spoke. The weight of what had just happened seemed too important¡ªtoo great, to break the silence so soon.


    ¡°A Binding spell,¡± Egne said quietly after a time, ¡°commits an oath to the very core of a person. She could no more break that oath to you than a fish could walk on land.¡±


    Aeolwyn had no words. No one had sworn fealty to him before, much less on the Laryn oath. He had seen it many times in his father¡¯s throne room, but that was always lords swearing to obey his father, and they were never under any kind of magic to ensure their compliance. Forcing someone to do that seemed dirty. Aeolwyn would have never asked it of her, or anyone. Now that she had undertook it willingly, he couldn¡¯t do anything else but trust her.


    Nobles were free to break their oaths should they choose to. There was nothing binding them to it except for the promise of eternal torment in the afterlife should they abandon their promise to their lord. This though, this was something else.


    He helped her to her feet. She was unsteady at first but grew stronger on her feet. She pushed herself away from him, and stood silently, her head bowed. She was waiting expectantly for something. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Aeolwyn,¡± Galafar said, nudging him in the ribs.


    ¡°What?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    ¡°She swore the oath. You¡¯re her lord, now.¡±


    He stared at Galafar, not understanding. He played back the memories of nobles swearing oaths of fealty to his father. They would kneel before the king, one hand up and the other on their chest and swear the oath. Then, the king would take their hands, accept the oath and make his own promises.


    Of course! He took her hands. ¡°Reiva of the Spires, I forgive you and accept your oath. I promise to be fair and just to you, asking nothing of you that I wouldn¡¯t ask of myself. You are my vassal, and I am your lord, an honor I cherish now and to the end of my days.¡±


    She finally smiled and hugged him tightly. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.


    She handed the note about the invasion to Aeolwyn. He folded it and tucked it into his pocket. He gathered up some other papers that he thought might be useful and tucked them away as well.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she said. Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    Though the Laryn Oath was ubiquitous around the whole of Laryndor, oaths of fealty were only sworn by nobility. Galafar and Egnever hadn¡¯t sworn such an oath, to him or anyone. Aeolwyn had heard many of them. Reiva¡¯s was different. It was unfamiliarly formal and flowery in its speech. Was she a noble of some far-off land?

 26: Reassigned

    They escaped the outpost undetected. Aeolwyn worried that the argument in the office might have alerted either the commander of the outpost or a guard. They did sneak by a guard who was meant to be alert but had fallen asleep on duty. Aeolwyn made a note of that. The poor guard had probably been drilling all day and then had night duty all night. That was a poor way to keep men in fighting shape, especially this close to the border.


    That made him think about the defense of the rest of the outpost. It was well guarded, but for the single glaring error. An undefended escape hatch. Aeolwyn and his group could have killed everyone in the outpost had they wanted to. He would remember not to make that mistake.


    They took the same circuitous route back as they had taken out. Just before they reached Foregate, Egne broke out a whiskey bottle he had recovered from somewhere, took a few swigs, then poured a little on himself. He encouraged the rest of them to do the same.


    ¡°Why?¡± Aeolwyn asked.


    ¡°We snuck out in the middle of the night,¡± Galafar said while tipping back the bottle. ¡°If we come back reeking of alcohol, then no one will suspect we were on a secret mission.¡±


    His friends were so clever it sometimes scared him. He doused himself in alcohol, stomach lurching from the smell. Then they all squeezed together, arm in arm, and stumbled their way back into the fort.


    The first person they ran into was Commander Boede, who had been briefed on the mission. He looked at the group with an expression of disgust and unusual curiosity. He stormed over, got close and sniffed each of them.


    ¡°Out past curfew, eh?¡± he said loudly. ¡°You all are to immediately report to the general for disciplinary action!¡±


    Just before he stormed away, he gave Aeolwyn a quick wink. The three of them groaned and made their way to the general¡¯s office. They gave up acting drunk as soon as they entered. He was inside, at his desk, having his breakfast and reviewing some documents. The room smelled strongly of coffee and eggs.


    ¡°Good god, are you men drunk?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No sir,¡± Aeolwyn said, ¡°it¡¯s a ruse to stop any prying eyes from guessing at our mission.¡±


    The general leaned forward and stared at Aeolwyn intently. He stepped back under Alaric¡¯s intense stare. ¡°Are you suggesting that there are spies inside the camp, corporal?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible sir. Better to take the precautions.¡±


    Alaric leaned back into his chair. ¡°I agree. What do you have for me?¡±


    Aeolwyn produced the papers they retrieved from the outpost and presented them. He deliberately held back the note from his brother. If the general was in league with Alfyn to kill him, it was best to not let Alaric know that Aeolwyn knew.


    After reading the papers, Alaric stood and walked over to the lone cabinet in the office. He took a bottle from inside and poured a healthy dose into his cup. He brought the bottle with him and set it on his desk before sitting and taking a long drink.


    ¡°I suspected as much,¡± Alaric said. ¡°There¡¯s just too much evidence to not have come to this conclusion earlier. I have already ordered preparations to be made, and fortunately Lord-general Harmin has agreed.¡± Alaric handed another note to Aeolwyn.


    General Alaric,


    We suspect war is near. I have spoken with the king and his advisors, and we agree that it is time to reinforce the outposts. It is of prime importance to send Prince Aeolwyn to Lannic Outpost along the northern banks of the River Tyr. Please proceed without delay.


    Signed,


    Harmin, Lord-General and Supreme Commander of the Camulan Armies


    Aeolwyn sighed. Was his father the one sending him to the outpost, or was it his brother? Alfyn had promised to deliver him to the Fenns, and this might be part of his plan. It had to be a trap, and as Sir Jom said, the best way to protect yourself against a trap is to spring it on your own terms. Aeolwyn wouldn¡¯t deny this order. He would go willingly and be prepared for an attack.


    Aeolwyn handed the paper back. He noticed it was of the same type and shape as the one from his brother in his pocket. That was not a coincidence. Though it was written in Lord-General Harmin¡¯s hand, he was certain Alfyn was behind it. The question was, why was his father allowing this?


    ¡°Can I bring my squad this time, general?¡± He was not going to go without his men.


    ¡°Most certainly,¡± the general replied. ¡°In fact, I will be sending Captain Flint and his entire banner with you. Your group will be placed under his command.¡±


    ¡°Can we trust him, general?¡± Galafar asked.


    Alaric fixed him with an angry stare. ¡°It is one thing to be careful of spies, soldier. It is entirely another thing to accuse one. Are you accusing Captain Flint of working for the enemy, Soldier Galafar?¡±


    Galafar backed down. ¡°No, sir.¡±


    His caution was warranted though. Aeolwyn had no idea who was in league with his brother. In fact, if it came down to it, he would suspect that all of the soldiers were in league with Alfyn one way or another. They would kill Aeolwyn if the crown prince ordered it. He would encourage Galafar to continue to be suspicious.


    After a bath, Aeolwyn finally made it back to his bed, with a stopover at the stables to visit Sefalus to make sure he knew they would be moving to a new house soon. It was bound to be less comfortable than the fort, but he would make do. Sleeping outside had done wonders for his ability to fall asleep anywhere.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Reiva insisted on sleeping in his room again. It was either that, or she was going to sleep outside his door. Now that his enemy had been unmasked, she didn¡¯t want to take any chances. It was weird and uncomfortable, but he allowed it. She would have found a way in regardless of what he told her, anyway.


    He only slept a few hours and was up again just after noon. He was still tired, but decided that if he slept all day, he wouldn¡¯t sleep again that night and he didn¡¯t want to be exhausted when it was time for the group to move out to Lannic Outpost.


    He pulled Brakus aside and let him know to inform the men to be ready to move out in the morning. He didn¡¯t want to deal with all the questions they might have, and since the men trusted Brakus, he thought it was best if he told them. Aeolwyn would be back in the morning to rouse them from their beds when it was time to get moving.


    The rest of the day he spent alone or with Sefalus. It still hurt that his brother was the one trying to kill him, and he was trying his best to process this new information. He wondered when Alfyn had decided that he wanted Aeolwyn dead, and if his father knew about it.


    He decided the king must not know about it, or he would have put a stop to it. He was undecided on whether Harmin were in on it though. The messages putting Aeolwyn in precarious situations were written in Harmin¡¯s hand, so he must have been involved.


    He went to bed early, before Reiva had returned from whatever expedition she had been on. He hadn¡¯t seen her much. She followed him around for a bit in the morning, then slinked off at some point when he went down to the river. Fortunately, she didn¡¯t ask him to pour out his feelings, since he was sure it was apparent what kind of mood he was in.


    When he rose before dawn, Reiva was on the floor in his room, smelling of liquor. She had a thick pack beside her and had cuddled up to what appeared to be new boots. He didn¡¯t know what was wrong with her old ones. He picked his way carefully around her and left the room as quietly as he could, though he was certain she was already awake.


    He found Brakus still in his bunk, but not sleeping. He was just lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling. Aeolwyn carefully made his way to the bunk. With the amount of snoring in the barracks, Aeolwyn didn¡¯t have to wonder what was keeping his most trusted advisor up.


    ¡°Rouse the men,¡± Aeolwyn told him. ¡°Have them assemble in the armory.¡±


    Brakus nodded and climbed out of his bunk. Aeolwyn returned to his room to wait. He didn¡¯t want to already be there when the men had assembled. That would be awkward. He was right about Reiva. She was already up and waiting for him outside his door.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest with the men,¡± he said. ¡°They are going into danger, and they should know to expect an ambush.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Reiva said.


    ¡°I do know that. If I wanted my brother dead without any evidence pointing to a murder, sending him into an ambush by our enemy would be the first thing I would think of. I want them to be ready for it.¡±


    She shrugged and slung her pack onto her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the assembly,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t get killed before then.¡±


    He grabbed his own things, what few of them there were, his helmet, chainmail, weapons, and the chest of gold, then headed over to the stables. The stable hands were still asleep, despite the fact that a chunk of the army was leaving. Most of them were infantry, so there was no need to prepare a host of horses for departure.


    Aeolwyn chose not to wake them, and saddled Sefalus on his own. He fastened the helmet to the pommel but put on his armor. It was starting to get tight¡ªhe would need a larger one soon. His squad weren¡¯t the only ones who needed to be prepared. He walked his equine friend over to the armory and tied him to a post. A light was on, and he could see his men inside. The quietness of the fort was diminishing as the soldiers were rousing for their duties.


    The men stood at attention when Aeolwyn entered. He waved them off and instructed the guard who had been watching the door to leave. The guard protested, but Galafar and Brakus ensured he understood the message.


    He looked around at the small group of men. They stared back expectantly and shifted around nervously. This sort of address before a march was usually done by the general right before they left. Not in secret by a corporal.


    ¡°Men, I assembled you here this early, not because I wanted to punish you, but because I wanted to be forthright about something.¡±


    The men looked to each other nervously, but no one interrupted.


    ¡°My life is in danger,¡± he said, ¡°and I expect that someone will try to kill me during our march to Lannic Outpost. I don¡¯t know if that will take the form of an ambush or an assassin, but it¡¯s likely one or the other.¡±


    There was a great commotion at that. Some yelled how they would ensure that wouldn¡¯t let that happen, while others screamed that they would save him from any danger. It made him smile to know that all these men, whose ages ranged from only a little older than him to significantly older than him, would put their lives on the like for him.


    He waved them to calm. ¡°I have no fear as long as you are around me,¡± he continued. ¡°I have the best bodyguards in the whole kingdom.¡± Some cheers from that statement. ¡°But I want to make sure that you know what we¡¯re walking into, and I want to make sure you are prepared for it. Any questions?¡±


    Only one voice, ¡°who, sir? Who wants you dead?¡± It was Palrik.


    ¡°His brother,¡± Galafar said before Aeolwyn could tell him not to. He shot his friend a glance but made no effort to correct him.


    More yelling and stamping of feet. So many men shouted at the same time he couldn¡¯t understand what any of them had said. He wanted to keep that part a secret, but he supposed they deserved to know.


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± he said. ¡°So, if any of you have any reservations about going against the wishes of the crown prince, now is the time to voice them.¡±


    None spoke, save one. It was Diryn. ¡°We¡¯ll follow you all the way to the palace, sir. I just demand the honor of my sword being the one to strike him down.¡±


    Aeolwyn shook his head. ¡°It won¡¯t come to that. At least, not yet.¡± He glanced outside. The sun was peeking over the horizon and some of the other squads were assembling in the courtyard. ¡°Men are beginning to assemble. Let¡¯s go join them. And don¡¯t breathe a word of what I¡¯ve just told you. Spies may be about.¡±


    He made sure to shake each man¡¯s hand and say a kind word or two about him as they left. He wanted to remember who they were fighting for, and he thought it would be good for morale to make sure they knew that their commander cared for each of them. Despite that, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that one of them could be a spy as well. He didn¡¯t want to believe it of his men, but they could be anyone.


    After they filed out, Aeolwyn dug through the equipment in the armory until he found a shield. It wasn¡¯t the best one of the bunch, but it would do. The shield in the outpost had reminded him. In the skirmishes he had been in, particularly in the one-on-one battles, he had been using his dagger as a de-facto shield, but a blade was a poor substitute.


    He fastened the shield to Sefalus¡¯s saddle and led him over to the assembly area. The grand total of soldiers leaving was about a hundred. Not many. Captain Flint was a capable instructor and drillmaster, but Aeolwyn had not seen the man in actual combat. He hoped that when it came down to business the man would know what he was about.


    There were no speech, no words of inspiration. Just a calm, ¡°Move out,¡± when the group had assembled. That wasn¡¯t how Aeolwyn would have handled it. Men liked to be talked to. They liked someone to say something to mark the occasion of change. This wasn¡¯t just a simple patrol; these men were moving from the safety of the fort to the discomfort and exposure of a poorly defended outpost.


    With nothing to mark the event, the soldiers just began walking out of the north gate. Those who had horses mounted them and rode beside the squad they were assigned to. It was a slow, somber trip. The men knew where they were headed and what was at stake. If given the opportunity, they would have chosen to stay behind, and Aeolwyn couldn¡¯t blame them.

 27: Lannic Outpost

    They camped in an open field beside the river. Captain Flint was not concerned about alerting any possible scouts on the other side of the river. In fact, he seemed interested in inviting them to come attack his group. Not because he wanted Aeolwyn dead, but because he was hungry for some action.


    Fortunately, no scouts were seen on the banks. Aeolwyn suggested to the captain that considering the nature of the intelligence that they had received, it would be wise to send out forward scouts so they wouldn¡¯t be caught unaware if they ended up in a dangerous situation. Flint, who resented Aeolwyn¡¯s quick promotion told him in no uncertain terms to mind his own business. So, he did.


    He contemplated sending scouts of his own out, but that would be disobeying a direct order, and the general looked down on things like insubordination, even if it was the right thing to do. Still, Aeolwyn told his men to be even more vigilant.


    They had been marching for 5 hours and were in sight of the outpost when they came into what Aeolwyn would later name the funnel. On one side was the River Tyr, covered sparsely with stunted trees and riparian vegetation. On the other was a thick bit of vegetation amid a copse of trees. It wasn¡¯t large enough to be considered a forest or woodland, but it was large enough to hide an army.


    As they got close to the funnel, Aeolwyn rushed to Captain Flint and begged him not to go this way. It was a perfect spot for an ambush. With the river blocking them on the right, there was nowhere for the army to run to for cover. Should someone attack, the whole group would be done for.


    Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know if it was due to incompetence or malice, but Captain Flint refused his request. In fact, if he had been considering an alternative, he dismissed it as soon as Aeolwyn spoke up. Despite the danger, Flint insisted on going that way. All Aeolwyn could do was order his soldiers to close up formations and be ready to join shields. It wasn¡¯t quite a shield wall, but they would be ready to get into that formation on a moment¡¯s notice.


    A shield wall was a very common battle formation. The men in the front rank would get close together, shoulder to shoulder and overlap their shields. The main job of the front rank was to protect those behind them, while using short swords or axes to try to break the enemy¡¯s shield wall. The men further behind would use longer range weapons such as spears to strike at the enemy.


    What would end up happening, according to Sir Jom, was that there would be a lot of pushing and shoving between opposing shield walls, while each side would try to spear each other in the heads or the feet. The goal was to try to break the shield wall and route the enemy.


    If one side or another had archers, they would typically be protected behind the shield wall and from their fire their arrows at the enemy before the two shield walls made contact with each other. Once they were face to face, the archers had to find other targets for fear of hitting their own men.


    If there were mages among the combatants, tactics could change. They would stay behind the wall as well, but they would use their spells to try to break the shield wall, or rain death from above. Thus, the mages would be the first line of defense, and the first target the enemy would choose. It often ended up being two separate battles, where the shield walls would fight one battle, and the mages would fight their own against the enemy¡¯s mage, attempting to attack the shield wall and the mages as well as countering the enemy¡¯s mages attacks and counter attacks.


    That was the theory as presented to Aeolwyn by Sir Jom. He had never been in a shield wall himself, so he had no first-hand knowledge. During the war games they played at the table, the strategies seemed sound, but Aeolwyn always thought he could do better. He thought using mages in a different way than just as magical archers were the key to victory. He just hadn¡¯t figured out how yet.


    When they were far enough into the funnel for there to be no way out but forward, something thunked on the shield behind Aeolwyn, and then all hell broke loose. It was an arrow! Another whizzed by his head before Reiva leapt up and pulled him from the saddle behind his men.


    Men from behind the trees shouted out battle cries and charged into their column. Most of the line was unprepared and were easy pickings for their attackers. The ones that fled were cut down by the archers.


    ¡°Shield wall!¡± Aeolwyn yelled. His men immediately formed up shoulder to shoulder and overlapped their shields. The Fenns who assaulted them weren¡¯t expecting such a quick defense, and his men were able to easily cut down the first dozen men who thought this was already a rout.


    Aeolwyn got to his feet and surveyed the situation. It was bad. The soldiers outside of his shield wall were getting cut down with reckless abandon. Men were fleeing and drowning in the river. Up ahead, he could hear Flint giving panicked orders to run for the outpost, but it was too far. There was no way they would get out of the range of the archers.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    He turned to Galafar. ¡°Take command here, Gal. Pivot up to protect the other soldiers and get them into the shield wall.¡±


    ¡°Me? Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°To rescue these men from this disaster!¡± He cried and leapt atop his horse. Sefalus was already in a gallop as soon as Aeolwyn landed in the saddle. He grabbed the shield and hid behind it as best he could. Arrows flew past, but thanks to some miracle, none landed anywhere but his shield.


    ¡°Camulites! To me!¡± He shouted as he ran up the line. ¡°Form up!¡±


    ¡°Soldier Aeolwyn stand down!¡± Captain Flint shouted as he reached the center of the column where the captain¡¯s retinue was. Aeolwyn noticed that his men had formed up into a shield wall to protect him but hadn¡¯t bothered to order anyone else to. From here, Aeolwyn could already see the rout coming. Most of the men ahead had already began making their way to the outpost and were quickly getting cut down by arrows and pursuing men.


    ¡°I will not,¡± Aeolwyn said as he slid off his horse. ¡°You¡¯re getting these men killed.¡±


    ¡°Stand down or be cut down,¡± Flint said, drawing his sword.


    Woebringer practically leapt from its scabbard into Aeolwyn¡¯s hand. He slashed down at the captain¡¯s sword, knocking it from the man¡¯s grasp. The captain stared in shock, disbelieving that anyone under his command would have done such a thing.


    ¡°As a Prince of the Realm, I am assuming command, captain. If you take exception to that, I¡¯ll run you through myself!¡±


    Captain Flint raised his hands in surrender. Aeolwyn turned to the men nearest the captain. ¡°This man is under arrest, either for treason or incompetence. You are to keep him under guard, by force if necessary. If you choose to disobey me, you will find yourselves with nooses around your neck if we survive this. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± three of the men said.


    ¡°Good.¡± He turned to another man. ¡°You,¡± he said. ¡°Go to the shield wall and have them move to link up with mine. Call the stragglers to arms before they get themselves killed.¡±


    Then he turned to another man, ¡°Take half of your men and form up another shield wall behind us. We need our flank protected from the men who broke through. Cut them down and rescue as many of our men as you can.¡±


    He got back onto his horse and chased after the men fleeing to the outpost.


    ¡°Men! To me!¡± He cried as he passed them. ¡°Form up!¡±


    Most didn¡¯t understand what he was saying. He got ahead of as many as he dared before leaping off his horse again. He grabbed the first three men who had thus far survived the rout.


    He braced himself and put forward his shield. ¡°To me!¡± he yelled. He grabbed the arms of the first two men as they passed him. ¡°Form up!¡± he shouted.


    The surprised men stopped fleeing and got shoulder to shoulder with him, overlapping their shields. The others who weren¡¯t cut down by arrows saw a shield wall starting to form and joined up with it. They shouted to the men now behind them, closer to the outpost to come back. Many did so, others chose to keep running and were cut down by the enemy¡¯s arrows.


    ¡°Advance!¡± Aeolwyn shouted and directed the shield wall into the woods where the archers were still hidden. It was difficult to maintain a tight shield wall in the forest, but they did the best they could, with the men on the far end the most vulnerable from flanking attacks.


    They moved slowly, heads down behind their shields. The arrows came in a frenzy at first. Their shields stopped most of them, but occasionally a well-placed shot would strike a man down. The men just closed the gap in the shield wall and continued advancing.


    The first few archers thought they could break the shield wall, despite having no shields themselves. Aeolwyn and the other men quickly cut them down. Some in the back ranks recovered their bows and turned them on the enemy as the advancing shield wall passed the dead archers.


    Soon, the line of archers broke and fled. Some of the men broke into a run, chasing the archers only to be cut down by a stray arrow as soon as they left the safety of the shield wall.


    ¡°I will hang the next man who breaks rank!¡± Aeolwyn shouted.


    When the archers were routed, Aeolwyn divided the shield wall in half, sending one half to pursue the archers, cautioning them to not break formation. The other half he took with him to attack the Fennish infantry from behind.


    His men had met up with enemy shield wall and were finally holding their own against the attackers. They had formed three shield walls in total. The largest was the one Aeolwyn had instructed Galafar to form. The second was the one that had formed around Captain Flint, and his was the third. All three were significantly smaller than they should have been. They had lost a lot of men.


    Aeolwyn pressed his men into the backs of the enemy. Without the archers to protect them, their flanks were exposed. The men in the rear turned and tried to form a backside shield wall, but it was too little, too late. Aeolwyn¡¯s men had already broken their wall. The men began drop their weapons and flee. They were cut down by Aeolwyn¡¯s newly formed archer corps.


    As Aeolwyn¡¯s shield wall joined up with Galafar¡¯s they marched north to Captain Flint¡¯s. When the men in the back of the enemy shield wall saw Aeolwyn¡¯s squad marching towards them, they broke and fled.


    The battle was over. He sent men off after the fleeing Fenns but stayed behind to survey the damage. The cost was staggeringly high. They had lost three-quarters of their men to death or injury. Egne was running around trying to heal as many as he could, but most were beyond his ability.


    He supposed they had won, but it sure didn¡¯t feel like one. He formed the men up into a much-smaller column, and together they all limped the rest of the way to the outpost. He didn¡¯t send anyone out to deal with the dead until he was sure it was safe.

 28: Lady Larella

    Lina was sleeping in and Ulfnar didn¡¯t want to wake her. Like him, she didn¡¯t sleep well last night and only got to sleep as the sun came up. Ulfnar wanted to stay asleep with her, but with the sun shining right in his eyes from the single arrow slit, he couldn¡¯t, so instead, he sat at his desk and wrote another letter to Aeolwyn.


    He wondered how his brother was handling military life. The boy seemed cut out for it, but there was a huge difference playing toy soldiers with Sir Jom and actually being a soldier. It wasn¡¯t something Ulfnar had ever been interested in. He wasn¡¯t about to take orders from some crusty old man.


    The good news was that a guard brought his breakfast early, so he at least had something to do while Lina was asleep. It was boring in here when he didn¡¯t have Lina to talk to. There were only so many letters you could write.


    Was he going crazy? Of course he was. He knew Lina wasn¡¯t real, that she was a stuffed doll with no personality of her own. How could anyone be in love with an inanimate doll? Everything about her was created in Ulfnar¡¯s own mind. Wasn¡¯t it?


    Even if Lina was in his own imagination, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to survive in this tower without her. He was sure he would already be crazy. To have gone from a large circle of friends and acquaintances that he interacted with every night to sudden isolation was almost too much for him to bear. Without Lina to talk to, he would have been dead a year ago.


    He heard the rhythmic clunking of footsteps coming up the stairs. That was unusual. His breakfast was already here, and it certainly wasn¡¯t lunchtime. Why would the guards come back? Unless they were here to kill him. He ran behind the bed and hid.


    The door banged open and Patch walked in, scratching at the pock-marked scars on his face. Patch was the morning guard and, not knowing his real name, Ulfnar had taken to calling him after the eyepatch he wore. It wasn¡¯t the cleverest nickname he had come up with, but it was all that his little prison brain could think of.


    ¡°Alright, highness,¡± Patch said in a gravelly voice that had seen the end of too many cigars, ¡°Someone wants to meet you. Come with me,¡± he paused, ¡°Or not. I don¡¯t really care.¡±


    Someone wanted to meet him? Who? The first person that came to mind was the executioner. Ulfnar wondered if walking willingly to the headsman¡¯s axe would be worse than rotting in this room.


    He leapt up and followed Patch out the door. His body made the decision before his brain did. It annoyed him at how easy it was to coax him out. Just the thought of having a conversation with an actual human being was enough. If that was all it too, what else would he agree to?


    Patch led him down the cramped circular staircase. It was so narrow that they couldn¡¯t walk side by side, and so steep that if he stumbled, he¡¯d fall all the way down to the first floor. Freedom if he survived, but most likely death, which, if he thought about it, was just a different sort of freedom.


    The guard took him to a dining hall with a large table in the center. The walls were stripped of any identifying items, and recently. He could see outlines where paintings and tapestries once stood. Circles of dust lay where candle holders, vases, or other decorative items once stood. All that remained was the main table, its chairs, and a few cabinets along the walls.


    The table was overstuffed with food. Tons and tons of food. From meats and cheeses to fruits, vegetables, and every sweet he could think of. He dove into the meal with reckless abandonment, eating whatever was closest and he could get his hands on. He didn¡¯t care that no one gave him permission to.


    There were several bottles of wine and ale, all of the finest quality. He drank and ate, and when he was tired of that, he ate and drank. He ignored his body when it told him his stomach couldn¡¯t store any more food. It would have to figure things out. He kept eating.


    ¡®That¡¯s probably poisoned, you know,¡¯ Lina said.


    Now he knew he was crazy. Lina was upstairs, asleep. He hadn¡¯t roused her before he went down with Patch. How would he have explained that? Can you wait while I get my doll? The guard would have shut and locked the door behind him.


    His stomach finally revolted against the punishment he was given it, and he vomited up all the food he had just eaten, right there on the floor. He didn¡¯t care. As soon as he was done, he dove right back into the food.


    He realized it made no sense to worry about this feast being poisoned. If they had wanted to kill him with a poison, they could have done so at any time. He ate whatever they had given him. It would have been easy enough to slip some poison in the stew or porridge they gave him. No sense in putting together this wild pile of food for that.


    ¡°Are you enjoying yourself?¡± A woman asked.


    He barely stopped eating to glance at her. She was strikingly beautiful. She was a tall woman with well-toned muscles barely hiding behind the nearly sheer dress that was arrayed about her. It was as though she had chosen to wear a thin curtain and buckle it about her waist. It looked more expensive than a curtain though and was definitely of a fashionable cut. Her porcelain skin seemed to glitter in the light.


    Her accent was Tambrynese. Was he in Tambryne? He had been traveling south on Cressard¡¯s Folly when he was taken. It stood to reason that Tambryne, being the kingdom to the south of Camulan would be a likely suspect to have kidnapped him. He had never been to Tambryne though, so he didn¡¯t know what the place looked like or how its citizens dressed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± spitting out food as he answered.


    ¡°Won¡¯t you sit?¡±


    He realized that he had been so focused on eating that he hadn¡¯t bothered to grab a chair. Now that he had company, he guessed it was time to show some manners. He took the chair nearest to him and continued eating. She took the seat across from him.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have someone clean that up,¡± she said, gesturing to his vomit. Now he was embarrassed. He didn¡¯t expect to have anyone dining with him. Why would he? He hadn¡¯t spoken to a living person for two years.


    He opened his mouth to apologize but realized that he wasn¡¯t sorry. They should be glad that he hadn¡¯t puked all over the room he was kept in. Though that would punish him more than them, since he doubted they would clean it up.


    Instead, he grabbed another chicken leg and bit into it. ¡°Are you here so I have something nice to look at, or do you want something?¡± he asked.


    He didn¡¯t care who she was or what she wanted. He just wanted to get out of here. The guard vanished after he was brought in here. Maybe he could charm her or overpower her and sneak out.


    ¡°My name is Larella,¡± she said, ¡°and I need your help.¡±


    ¡°You need my help? The one that¡¯s been held prisoner here for the last two years? That¡¯s laughable. It takes a lot of gall to ask for my help after what you¡¯ve put me through.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just a tool, your highness. In storage until you¡¯re needed. You always have been, even in your palace. You¡¯ve just changed toolboxes.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just about the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯ve heard a lot of rude comments in my life.¡±


    He meant it too. Sure, he was theoretically a spare king in case something happened to Alfyn, but there was still Davinya and Wolfryn to get through before it was his turn in line. That was a lot of king-killing.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said. Her mouth twisted into a frown. ¡°Deny it. I¡¯d like to hear all the justifications you¡¯ve told yourself on how you¡¯re an important person outside of your identity as a prince.¡±


    ¡®Be careful,¡¯ Lina whispered into his ear. ¡®She holds your life at the end of a thread.¡¯


    Lina was right. Arguing would get him nowhere. If he was going to try to charm her into his release, smarmy comments wouldn¡¯t help. ¡°This toolbox is less pleasing than my last one,¡± he said.


    She leaned forward and squeezed her arms, pressing her barely covered breasts together. She gave him a sultry smile as she licked her lips. ¡°Perhaps I can make it a little more to your liking?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but stare and lick his lips. She was pleasing to the eye, and the thought of ravaging her was difficult to put from his mind. Her posture gave him a different sort of hunger. One that couldn¡¯t be sated with food.


    ¡®Are you really going to fuck the woman keeping you in this prison?¡¯


    No, no he wasn¡¯t. He shifted his gaze back up to her eyes. She was still gazing at him lustfully. She picked up a cherry and ran her tongue around the whole of the fruit before slowly sliding it into her mouth.


    ¡®She¡¯s only doing that to control you. Just like all this food.¡¯


    Lina was right. She was trying to turn the tables around and charm him into submission. He couldn¡¯t have that. He needed to keep his wits about him. The best thing to do would be to play along until he saw a chance to make his escape.


    ¡°So, Larella, how can I help?¡± he asked. He put on a lopsided grin and all the charm he could muster. He realized that he was dirty, stinky, and his clothes were barely more than rags. He couldn¡¯t charm his way out of a barrel in such a condition.


    He probably smelled like an abandoned butcher shop. That brought things into perspective. Larella wasn¡¯t interested in him in the slightest, and if he¡¯d agreed to sleep with her, she would be putting it off until he did what she wanted, and after that, with no need to lure him to do something, she would probably kill him before anything happened.


    ¡°I owe allegiance to his grace, the Archduke of Tambryne,¡± she said. ¡°I have become aware that a plot exists to remove him from and place a pretender on his throne. It is my duty to stop them.¡±


    He tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Food sprayed from his mouth as he erupted into laughter and couldn¡¯t stop. He almost felt bad for the woman as her face turned red. His too, as he struggled to breathe between guffaws. He snorted which caused more laughter.


    He held his hand up as he tried to get himself under control, though to be honest, he didn¡¯t want to. He hadn¡¯t had a good laugh in a long time, and it felt good. She was starting to get angry, but what did she expect? Her request was outrageous.


    ¡°You want me to keep a foreign leader, who I couldn¡¯t care less about, in power? I¡¯m sorry Lorella, but I swore an oath not to interfere in other nations¡¯ political affairs. You should know that darling.¡±


    She scowled, her face so red it looked like it was about to pop. She wrenched her face in and out of rage until she forced it into a poor semblance of calmness.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said in a tight voice, ¡°I¡¯ll just stick you back up in that tower. Guard!¡±


    ¡°Now hold on,¡± he said. He pushed her too far. He did not want to go back into that room. Maybe he could bend his oath a little bit. After all, it wasn¡¯t like he took the Laryn Oath. And besides, the archduke was already in power. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to try to keep him there.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help,¡± he said. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°I thought you might.¡± She turned to Patch who had just entered the room. ¡°Will you fetch us some akavita? I think we will be celebrating.¡±


    Akavita was a very expensive liquor. It was strong and tasted like fire. Literally translated, it meant water of life, presumably because you needed to celebrate if you were still alive after you drank it.


    She turned back to Ulfnar. ¡°Someone is coming to rescue you. She will be making similar demands from you. I want you to kill her. After that¡­¡± she shrugged as though to say who knows? ¡°Your future is your own.¡± She finished.


    ¡°What would be preventing me from just running?¡± Once he was out of eyeshot, that was exactly what he was planning to do.


    ¡°That would be tempting, but I advise you don¡¯t. I will have several people keeping an eye on you,¡± she said. ¡°And unlike the ones sent after your brother, mine won¡¯t fail.¡±


    ¡°My brother?¡± he asked, suddenly alarmed. Which one?


    ¡°You haven¡¯t heard?¡± She laughed. ¡°Oh, right, of course you haven¡¯t. The Star Children, among others have sent assassins after your brother Aeolwyn. They have, as of yet, been unsuccessful. Should you fail, mine will succeed.¡±


    ¡°Aeolwyn is ok?¡± he asked, alarmed. He would have to get on with this job as quickly as possible. If assassins were being sent, his brother needed his help.


    ¡°As I understand it, yes, though I¡¯m sure our news is quite stale by now. It¡¯s possible that another assassin could have succeeded by now.¡±


    ¡®Don¡¯t take the bait,¡¯ Lina said. ¡®No matter what happens, you still need to do the right thing.¡¯


    He ignored the dumb doll. He was determined to help Aeolwyn. He didn¡¯t care anything about the politics of Tambryne. One ruler was as good as another as far as he was concerned. Besides, if the Archduke of Tambryne started a problem with Camulan it was his father¡¯s and brother¡¯s problem to deal with.


    ¡°Ok,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± she said, standing. She shifted her dress as she stood to prevent it from sliding and showing more than she intended, though with its sheerness and how it clung to her, it didn¡¯t leave much to the imagination.


    ¡°Now eat your fill, as I will, regretfully, have to return you to your tower. Can¡¯t have a rescue without a prisoner.¡±


    She turned and made her way out of the room.


    ¡°Wait!¡± he said. He didn¡¯t want to go back to the room. Couldn¡¯t he just sleep here and only go to the tower when the rescuer was coming? Why did he have to get locked back up in there?


    She paid no attention to his words and disappeared out of the hallway. He chased after her, but the door had already closed behind her. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He checked the other doors in the room, and they were all locked as well. He was still a prisoner. But at least he was going to be a well-fed prisoner.

 29: A King in Peril

    The king had fallen ill. Magical healing wouldn¡¯t touch it, not even Jor Bashi¡¯s. He was at a complete loss as to what sort of illness had befallen him. Jor Bashi was the most powerful mage in all of Camulan. The fact that he couldn¡¯t even identify what was wrong with him terrified Davinya.


    Her father¡¯s face was gaunt and his breathing shallow. When he wasn¡¯t sleeping, his eyes had a strange, vacant expression. Calling his name or tugging his arm might elicit a reaction, or it might not. He barely acknowledged anyone. If he tried to speak, it was all screams or gibberish.


    It hadn¡¯t started this way, of course. At first, he was uncharacteristically tired all the time. He was one who usually rose with the sun, so to see him sleeping in was unusual. Then he would sleep longer and longer, and when he was awake, he was very short tempered, yelling at everyone, even Filliya! Her younger sister was such a docile creature it was impossible for anyone to get angry with her.


    Then he started vomiting every time he tried to eat. Soon he couldn¡¯t eat anything but his barley soup. Fortunately for the family, he had stopped doing the family dinners on a regular basis after Aeolwyn and Ulfnar had gone. No one knew what had happened to Ulfnar, though Davinya suspected Alfyn had done something to him.


    Davinya sat beside his ornate four-post bed, holding his cold hand. Underneath the embroidered blanket, his chest slowly rose and fell. His face was so gaunt. She didn¡¯t know how much weight he had lost in the last few weeks. Sir Jom could only do so much in keeping him alive.


    The servants had resorted to funneling the barley soup down his throat six times a day to prevent him from starving, but it wasn¡¯t helping his appearance. He still looked to be wasting away. She had to come to terms with it. Her father, the man who had been so big and so strong, was dying.


    She was sure Alfyn had done something to him. Either magic or poison, though she didn¡¯t know how he could have found a type of either that Jor Bashi couldn¡¯t identify. He would have had to dig into the worst of the dark magics to find something Bashi didn¡¯t know.


    And if that was required, then that was what he would do. He would resort to anything to get what he wanted, and that included her. She had come to the realization that magic wouldn¡¯t protect her. Nothing short of fleeing the kingdom would save her from him, if he chose to pursue her.


    The large ornately carved door opened and Alfyn walked in. She couldn¡¯t help but feel sick to her stomach as soon as she laid her eyes on him. She tried to keep her face as neutral as possible but found it difficult. Instead, she turned her gaze back to her father.


    ¡°How is he?¡± Alfyn asked in a soft voice. He walked around to the chair at the other side of the bed and took the king¡¯s other hand. She couldn¡¯t avoid his gaze now, unless she left, and she wasn¡¯t about to leave her father alone with the crown prince.


    ¡°The same,¡± she said.


    He looked at their father. ¡°Father, come back to us,¡± he said, eyes welling up with tears. ¡°We are lost without you.¡±


    She knew the tears were fake. He had been able to cry on demand ever since they were little, and everyone knew it. He used to use that skill to get all manner of treats from the kitchens. Eventually it stopped working on the cooks, but it never stopped working on their parents.


    ¡°I have heard they named you regent,¡± she said. She wouldn¡¯t doubt that he had pulled many strings and called in many favors to make that happen. Lord Smyton was supposed to be the king¡¯s regent if he was sick or otherwise incapacitated. Not anymore. Now it was Alfyn.


    ¡°Sadly so, yes,¡± he said. ¡°I regret that such a thing was necessary.¡±


    He didn¡¯t regret it in the slightest, and they both knew it. He had grown in power in the last two years. Everyone had seen how he snuck away into corners with the nobles who came to visit. He curried favor with everyone and anyone who would listen. The only one who hadn¡¯t seen it was the king.


    There was no way to stop him getting what he wanted. She only had two options: play along or flee. She had no way to flee. She was a young princess with no contacts in the outside world. Where would she go? Who would help her? No one, that¡¯s who.


    She needed to play up to him and his lust for power. Even help him if she could. Then she could befriend those who were trying to get close to him. Once she made friends outside the palace, then she could find a way to escape.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°It is a tragedy that you were thrust so quickly into this position,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he agreed. ¡°I only pray that father will recover soon, so that I may pass these duties back where the rightfully belong.¡±


    She doubted that. Even if the king were to recover, there was no way Alfyn would give up the power he had gained during the king¡¯s illness. He had grown too used to it. He would have his allies declare the king unfit to rule if he had to.


    ¡°Davinya, I want you to continue your magical studies. Even if father forbade them, I think they are good for your spirit. It will be good for the family to have a trustworthy mage among us. I don¡¯t trust Jor Bashi. For all we know, he was the one who did this to father.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, your grace,¡± she said, playing up to his lust for power. What he meant was that he wanted her to spy on Jor Bashi. She guessed that the mage was resisting Alfyn¡¯s advances. Even if magic couldn¡¯t protect her from Alfyn¡¯s schemes, getting Jor Bashi on her side couldn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°None of that.¡±


    She smiled curtly. If magic could have done this to their father, which, of course, they had no proof of, then perhaps there was magic that could help her survive her brother. Even if it wouldn¡¯t protect her from his schemes, maybe there was a way to bend his schemes to her will. If anyone knew, it would be Jor Bashi.


    ***


    The Stile River was a muddy offshoot of the Tyr, the massive waterway that cut most of Laryndor in half. It joined at a location known as Branson¡¯s Fork, a major town in Wickshire that started off as a small village but grew to a thriving city due to its importance as a junction of multiple trade routes.


    This was one reason the Stile River had been chosen as a location for the Fortress of Heaven. Because of its proximity to Branson¡¯s Fork and major arteries that lead all across Laryndor, they could spread their faith to all corners of the island continent.


    A long staircase led down from the Fortress of Heaven to the docks along the Stile. From the docks, Lord Longinus could launch whatever ships he chose to spread the faith and their interests. It was convenient for them, as they could launch ships at any time, day or night, under no eyes but their own. They weren¡¯t especially welcome in Branson¡¯s Fork, so trying to book passage there was exceedingly difficult, and anyone could watch them and report back on their movements.


    Fraius was beside Longinus on the docks. The Children were loading up the ship His Radiance had acquired from somewhere. Frauis suspected that it belonged to the king of the Fenns, but he wasn¡¯t about to ask. It was none of his business where it came from.


    But what a magnificent ship it was. It was sleek and slender with a tall mast and narrow beam. What it lost in width it made up for in length. They would be able to reach Fort Camulan quickly, and with a lot of battle-ready soldiers.


    The soldiers boarding the ship had been instructed not to wear any identifying items on their person. Longinus had issued specific orders that no one was to know who was aboard. Below deck were enough tabards with the sigil of the king of the Fenns for everyone. Once they were in position, they were to don the garments and join up with the Fenn army already in the area.


    Fraius was happy to be a part of this mission. He was afraid that His Radiance wouldn¡¯t allow him to go, but he was the first to get his orders. His were different from the rest. Though he was not in command of the soldiers, they were to obey his orders until he handed them off to the general leading the Fennish army.


    ¡°You are as strong as ever, Child Fraius,¡± Lord Longinus said. ¡°The time you spent recuperating has done you well.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Radiance,¡± he said.


    His convalescence had been a tough time for him, and his recouperation even more so. He didn¡¯t like to be idle, and especially didn¡¯t like leaving a task unfulfilled. If Longinus himself hadn¡¯t ordered him to busy himself rebuilding his speed and strength, he would have made off to Fort Camulan as soon as he was healthy enough to walk.


    But Lord Longinus was right to keep him here. He was even stronger and faster than Longinus knew. He would not allow himself to be bested by the woman again. Aeolwyn was his and he would kill him even if it meant his own death.


    Now that the time had come, he was anxious to get underway. The delays in getting the ship and timing the attack had upset him. One night, his anxiousness almost got the best of him. Overcome with the desire for revenge, he¡¯d nearly made it out of the Fortress when Longinus found him sneaking out the main gate. The Lord of the Fortress was kind to him when he could have had him whipped, and just walked him back to bed. He locked the door behind him though.


    ¡°You are certain of your duties? This took careful planning and everything must occur as planned.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered. ¡°We are to launch tonight at full darkness and keep below deck out of sight until we reach the meeting point. If the ship is boarded at any time, we are simple traders heading to Tambryne City. We may kill any such men only if they get too curious.¡±


    ¡°Well done. And after that?¡±


    ¡°Once we make landfall, we are to find General Raubin and he will assume command of our soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Correct. Only after our men have been integrated into his army will you be free to pursue your mission. Take advantage of the chaos and look for Prince Aeolwyn. I hear he has risen up in the ranks, so he should be easier to find in battle.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Radiance.¡±


    Lord Longinus embraced him¡ªan unusual act for the Star Lord. ¡°You are my best pupil, Child Fraius. Go and sow chaos.¡±


    With that, Lord Longinus turned to the stairs and headed back up to the Fortress of Heaven. Fraius watched him go. The Lord looked so frail. He was getting older now, and soon would be looking for a successor to replace him. Fraius needed to make sure that he was the one.

 30: Reinforcements

    Lannic Outpost was in poor shape. The defensive ditch had suffered significant erosion. It had collapsed and filled with dirty and debris. Since the diversion from the River Tyr had been clogged and dammed up by beaver activity, it was completely dry. Without a protective wall, and attacking army could march straight up to the wooden walls and bash them in.


    The staircase that led to the only accessible door had rotted mostly away and was a danger to climb. Some planks had fallen through, and a few support beams were little more than patchy sticks than the stout timbers they had used to be.


    As soon as they arrived, Aeolwyn ordered the survivors to set about repairing its defenses. Some he had working on shoring up the existing building, while others he set to building a new palisade wall around the entire outpost.


    After the battle, Aeolwyn sent a runner back to Fort Camulan to inform the General of the ambush. Aeolwyn still believed that they had a spy in their ranks that was reporting their troop movements directly to the Fenns. It wasn¡¯t him or any of his group, as they were the only ones who knew about the infiltration of the Fenn outpost, and if the spy had gotten wind of that, they would surely have been captured.


    If the spy was someone in Flint¡¯s group, he was going to have to root them out. He would ask Reiva to do it. He knew he could trust her, and he thought it was something she would be good at. She was clever and could handle herself in a fight if it came to that. Plus, as his liege woman, she was outside the rank structure of the army.


    Since he¡¯d assumed command after arresting Flint, he moved into the outpost commander¡¯s office. It was a small room with a desk and had an adjoining bedroom. There was another room directly across the hallway that he had assigned to Reiva so she wouldn¡¯t be sleeping on his floor every night. Somehow, he doubted she would spend much time in her room. He was probably going to have to set up a cot in his office.


    Once he cleaned the office of all the trash and dead animals, it turned out to be quite serviceable. He chose to keep it as spartan as Alaric kept his. Not that he had much choice in the matter; he didn¡¯t have much in the way of possessions.


    There was a knock on the door. He didn¡¯t wonder who it was. He had sent Brakus to fetch Captain Flint. He wanted to talk to him and determine where his loyalties lay. He had Reiva stay in his bedroom, out of sight, but within earshot.


    ¡°Come,¡± he said.


    The door opened and Brakus entered with Captain Flint. His unshaven face and unkempt hair gave him a haggard appearance. The downcast eyes didn¡¯t do much to help the matter. He¡¯d had all his weapons taken away but hadn¡¯t been restrained.


    Brakus closed the door behind them but stayed in the room. Not exactly the choice Aeolwyn would have preferred, but he said nothing. Perhaps he thought he was protecting his prince.


    ¡°I¡¯d invite you to sit, but¡­,¡± Aeolwyn trailed off and gestured around him. There were no other chairs besides the one he was using.


    Flint shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m used to standing,¡± he said.


    ¡°What happened out there, captain?¡± Aeolwyn asked. ¡°Why were there no scouts? Why didn¡¯t you take my advice when you marched us into the funnel?¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, highness, you¡¯re barely a soldier, and just a boy at that. How would it look to the other men if I looked to you for advice?¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Aeolwyn said. The soldiers who were put in command of other soldiers had to always be sure that those under them respected and trusted their decisions. If the command structure broke down, that could cause all sorts of havoc on the battlefield.


    ¡°But I am not an ordinary 14-year-old,¡± he continued. ¡°I have been trained in battlefield tactics by Sir Jom, who is widely regarded as one of the best tacticians of our time. I know you know that. My advice was sound, and still you marched us directly into an ambush.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell you. I made an error in judgement.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a big lapse,¡± Aeolwyn said. ¡°Two-thirds of our detachment is dead or wounded. I lost six members of my squad, and we were the first ones to close ranks and form a shield wall. I just don¡¯t understand how a captain of your experience could have made such an error.¡±


    He sat back in his chair, unsure of how to ask the important question. He knew Flint would be offended by it, and Aeolwyn knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to trust the answer. Still, he had to ask.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to come right out and ask, and I know you¡¯re not going to like the question.¡± Aeolwyn hesitated. He was nervous. He hoped it didn¡¯t show. ¡°Are you working for the enemy, Captain? Are you on the payroll of the Fenns?¡±


    Flint stepped back, the shock on his face evident. He was clearly offended. Not surprising, Aeolwyn would have been offended too. But in a situation like this, it was a completely appropriate question to ask.


    ¡°How dare you even suggest such a thing!¡±


    ¡°Answer the question, captain,¡± Aeolwyn said, ¡°or I will have no choice but to assume you are a traitor and take the appropriate actions.¡± Meaning being put the captain to the question to see what he had revealed, followed by a swift execution.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m not working with the Fenns! They killed my entire family. I would sooner see all of them dead than take their tainted money!¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    That was as good as any answer. He would have Reiva look into his backstory. If it was true, he could possibly check Captain Flint of the list of potential traitors, and just chalk his tactical error up to arrogance or incompetence.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hang you. However, I am still keeping you under guard until I receive further instruction from General Alaric. You may go.¡±


    Brakus took him by the arm and ushered him out of the office. Brakus was a good soldier. Aeolwyn had put the grizzled veteran back in charge of the squad while he was acting as captain of the outpost.


    Not that there was much of the squad left. They had lost half their number, including Tyrik, Diryn, and Palrik. That hurt. Even though they had been prepared for the ambush, it didn¡¯t stop the Fenns from getting a blisteringly hard strike in first. Aeolwyn himself was lucky he wasn¡¯t dead. Not all the arrows had landed on his shield. Sefalus had taken a dozen of them. Fortunately, Egne had found him and healed him before the worst could have happened. He made a note to make sure he got his horse some armor. He couldn¡¯t bear to take the beast into battle only to get him killed.


    Reiva stepped out of the bedroom and sat on the corner of his desk. He really needed to get another chair in here. It hadn¡¯t been a priority though, since he didn¡¯t expect to be having so many visitors.


    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡± He leaned back in the chair, rocking it on its two back legs. It felt a little wobbly under his weight, but it held.


    ¡°If he didn¡¯t like you before, he hates you now,¡± she said, picking up the crystal globe he had found on the floor. It was the room¡¯s single decoration. Aeolwyn still didn¡¯t know what it was meant to be. Egne had scanned it and didn¡¯t think it was anything magical, or he would have gotten rid of it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need him to like me,¡± he answered.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°But he will become a problem if he¡¯s released. He¡¯ll have the opportunity to poison the ears of your men.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to just kill him if that¡¯s what you¡¯re suggesting. Not without proof of any wrongdoing.¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she said, ¡°though that would be prudent. But there are other ways of getting him out of the way besides death.¡±


    ¡°Like exile?¡± he asked. He wasn¡¯t serious. He had been exiled himself and it had turned his whole life upside down. No, he wouldn¡¯t do anything to Flint without proof.


    The door suddenly banged open, and Commander Boede strolled in followed closely by General Alaric. Aeolwyn was so shocked that he almost fell backwards out of the chair. He managed to save himself and get to his feet before that happened. He stood at attention and gave the two men a quick salute.


    Reiva just casually slid off the table and disappeared into his bedroom.


    ¡°Now that assassin shares your bed?¡± Boede demanded.


    Is that what they thought? Not that the idea was out of the question¡ªhe was a young man, after all, but to just assume that he was humping her was presumptuous to say the least.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± he said. ¡°There isn¡¯t much room in here, as you can see. I think she wanted to give us some space.¡±


    Alaric looked around. ¡°Some chairs would be nice,¡± he said.


    Aeolwyn picked up his chair, took it around the desk and set it before the general. ¡°It¡¯s the only one I have, general.¡±


    The general waved it away. ¡°Keep it, son.¡± Aeolwyn remained standing.


    He hadn¡¯t expected the general and Boede to come in person. He had just informed them of what had happened and requested reinforcements, and instructions on what to do about Captain Flint. For them to come was unusual.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to come in person,¡± he said.


    ¡°How could I not?¡± he said, walking over to the bedroom and closing the door. ¡°A coordinated attack on our soil? I¡¯ve already sent word to the king and the lord-general. This incursion was an act of war!¡±


    ¡°It is that, sir.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t considered the possibility that the king would need to know about the skirmish, but now that the general had mentioned it, of course he would. His son was involved, after all. That alone might warrant sending a messenger to the king.


    ¡°Now explain to me why Captain Flint is in the brig, and why you are taking up residence in the commander¡¯s office?¡± The general stepped closer, forcing Aeolwyn to step back. The general was tall for a man, and he absolutely towered over the young prince.


    ¡°Like I said in my message, he led us directly into an ambush and was advising our soldiers to run to the outpost rather than stand and fight. If I didn¡¯t intervene, we all would have been slaughtered.¡±


    ¡°Was it your place to intervene?¡± Boede asked.


    ¡°Someone had to do it.¡±


    ¡°I am not happy about this, Aeolwyn,¡± the general said. ¡°You disobeyed your commanding officer, and then supplanted him. We call that mutiny, and it¡¯s a hangable offense.¡±


    They wouldn¡¯t dare hang a Prince of the Realm. He was sure they would think of other, more creative punishments for him if they chose.


    ¡°If you hang me, general, at least it will be just one man dead and not the entire detachment.¡±


    Commander Boede broke out into laughter. He stopped after the general shot a disagreeable glance at him. His face turned bright red. He closed his mouth and stood at attention.


    ¡°Bold words, son,¡± the general said. ¡°Coming from someone who knows we dare not hang them. There are other ways we could punish you, but not today. You did the proper thing, Aeolwyn. A move Sir Jom would definitely not have approved of. But you saved what was left of your men and brought them safe to Lannic Outpost.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    The general pulled out a rolled up note and handed it to him. Aeolwyn took it, but did not open it. He hoped it was a letter from home. ¡°What¡¯s this, sir?¡±


    ¡°Your promotion to captain. You¡¯ve done a good job in the short time you¡¯ve been here at this outpost. Not only have you begun to clean up and repair the place, but you¡¯ve prudently started on new defensive structures. Congratulations, captain, you¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    Aeolwyn¡¯s jaw dropped. A promotion to captain this soon was unheard of. He hadn¡¯t done anything exemplary to prove it. Perhaps it was another order from his father. He stood tall and saluted again. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    The general turned to Boede. ¡°Commander?¡±


    ¡°Captain Aeolwyn,¡± Boede started, ¡°We have brought you the reinforcements you requested. More men, some cavalry, archers, and six mages. Use them wisely.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, commander,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    He would definitely make use of these new troops, although he would have to think about what to do with the cavalry should they be attacked. He wasn¡¯t planning on meeting the enemy in open battle if he could help it, and cavalry wasn¡¯t much use behind the walls of a fort. Though he could use them as scouts.


    The archers, on the other hand, would be invaluable. He would immediately post them along the fort¡¯s walls as they were built. He wished he had more mages¡ªhe wanted a whole battery of them. They would be much more useful than simple archers.


    ¡°Now where can I get a drink around here?¡± The general asked.


    Aeolwyn led the general down to the mess hall. It was still a heaping mess, but they had at least cleaned off a few tables and posted some cooks to keep the men fed. There wasn¡¯t much in the way of liquor, but seeing the general, a few of the men mustered up some bottles of wine and some brandy. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t know where they had stashed the liquor, but he was glad that they did. If the general was happy, he was happy.

 31: An Assassin and a Rescue

    The sun had already set, but Aeolwyn could still see the river in the distance. It was cold and windy on the ramparts atop the outpost, but it provided a good view of the surrounding area. The land was altogether too forested, and too many trees were too close to the outpost. Those needed culling around¡ªit was too easy for a group to sneak up on the outpost undetected.


    He didn¡¯t have the men he needed to do everything that needed to be done. The men were too busy putting up defenses to clear the forest. The best he could do was have the men chop down the trees nearest the outpost to use in the new wall they were constructing.


    The wall was coming along but was far from being complete. It made him nervous. The Fenns could attack at any time, and without the walls, a proper moat, and a clearing beyond, they were begging for trouble.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s like a company of archers, but using mages? Why?¡± Egne asked.


    Aeolwyn sighed. Egne just didn¡¯t understand the utility. In his mind, like in the minds of others, mages were deployed as a single unit in a larger group of infantry. They would sometimes cast attack spells but were usually there for spot healing.


    More often, they were used as a part of a small group of irregulars for special missions like infiltration, counterintelligence, or the like. Such as when Aeolwyn took Egne on his mission to infiltrate Tinar Outpost. But Aeolwyn saw a bigger use for them. Not just as a defensive and protective unit, but as a group put together as a mighty offensive weapon.


    ¡°Yes, but they would do so much more than just shoot magic arrows. They could collectively cast protection spells on the shield wall, or focus-fire on a specific point, or we could send a mounted unit to flank the enemy and cause havoc behind their lines.¡±


    ¡°But our offensive spells just don¡¯t have the same range as an archer¡¯s arrow. How could we get close enough without putting ourselves in danger? And don¡¯t say horses, because I can¡¯t ride a horse and cast a spell at the same time. It¡¯s impossible to split concentration like that.¡±


    He had to admit that was a big problem. While archers and mages were both vulnerable to attack, the greater range of the bow kept them in relative safety. He had some ideas to keep them safe, though. He just needed a cartwright and time to experiment.


    ¡°Even in a shield wall it¡¯s difficult,¡± Egne continued. ¡°If you get jostled or hit, or have to dodge an incoming attack, the spell is basically gone, and you have to start over. I just really don¡¯t think you understand the amount of intense concentration it takes.¡±


    Egne had a point. Aeolwyn wasn¡¯t a mage, so he really had no idea what it took to cast spells. He wasn¡¯t interested in magic when he was younger, so he never thought to even talk to Jor Bashi, his father¡¯s mage.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking you about this. You¡¯re the only mage I know,¡± Aeolwyn said.


    If he could figure out a way to bring magic to the battlefield in a significant way, it could completely change the face of warfare. His biggest issue would be that if he succeeded, how would he prevent his enemies from using it against him?


    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s late. I¡¯m going to bed. Just think about my idea. Maybe we can figure something out together.¡±


    He walked back into the outpost, heading down the stairs that led from the ramparts of the tower to the top floor. They were dusty and rotting out. Another thing that they would have to replace. This outpost was in such bad shape, they might as well burn it down and rebuild it from scratch. Unfortunately, they didn¡¯t have the time.


    He followed the dusty corridor that led to his office, Reiva appearing out of nowhere to follow him. He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she had been sneaking around the ramparts when he was talking to Egne. He wondered if he should ask her opinion of the mage army. He knew she wouldn¡¯t offer one unless he asked. She hadn¡¯t shown any particular aptitude towards military tactics though, so maybe she wouldn¡¯t be the best person to ask.


    He was so tired he didn¡¯t bother to undress when he reached his bedroom. He just collapsed onto the bed. He tossed and turned for a bit. His mind was running like a sprinting horse. A war was coming, and there was too much to do at this outpost. The Fenns wouldn¡¯t wait for him to be ready. They would attack on their own schedule.


    ***


    Even in the darkness, Fraius could see that the outpost was a disaster. It was abandoned for a long before the soldiers began to reoccupy it. They should have just torn it down and built a wall. That would have been a better defense than the poorly built, decaying tower that stood before him.


    He had delivered his army to the general of the Fenn army and was now on his way to sow chaos. The general told him that this outpost was their target, and the prince was in residence. They chose to work together on this assault before moving on to Fort Camulan itself.


    Here on the back side, only one man guarded it. A tall man with a missing hand. Although the man¡¯s right hand was missing, it didn¡¯t matter. He was deadly with a sword. He¡¯d had a steel cap fitted over his hand that he could attach various items to, most often a shield. Fraius knew all of this because he was one of his men, who took the name of Child Albus when he was entered into the Courageous Order of Heavens.


    He toyed with the idea of punishing Albus for being so foolish as to let Fraius sneak up behind him. Maybe grab him by the neck and flip him to the ground. He chose not to, however. He may yell out and alert some of the other guards, which wasn¡¯t something he wanted.


    ¡°Albus,¡± he whispered.


    His man turned quickly, one hand reaching for his blade, while the other rose up to show a dangerous spike where his hand used to be. He recognized Fraius before he made things worse for himself by trying to plunge his dagger-hand into Fraius¡¯ head.


    ¡°Fraius?¡± he asked softly. ¡°I had thought you were dead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so easy to kill,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Captain Aeolwyn told us all you were killed two years ago.¡±


    Fraius frowned. It was not good for morale for the men he installed into the army to believe him dead. They may have deserted or potentially revealed their involvement with the order. Those that did so would be killed, either by the order, or by the army, so perhaps they would be smart enough to hold their tongues.


    ¡°I was injured, but I have recovered,¡± Fraius said. ¡°Never mind that. What is the status here?¡±


    ¡°Captain Aeolwyn has taken up residence in the commander¡¯s quarters on the top floor. General Alaric has taken rooms on the second floor above the ground floor. Commander Boede is here also, but I don¡¯t know where he is sleeping.¡±


    Captain Aeolwyn, Commander Boede, and General Alaric? What a wonderful stroke of luck! They could cut the head off of this army in a single night. He couldn¡¯t believe that the general in charge of Fort Camulan would be so foolish as to come here himself.


    Wait a minute, Captain Aeolwyn? When did that happen? Had the prince¡¯s father pulled some strings to make that happen? He must have. There was no way someone so young and inexperienced would have been promoted so high so quickly. He wanted to ask, but didn¡¯t have time.


    He would love to race to the top floor and take care of the prince right away, but he had to be practical about it. The general was the more important of the three targets he had been given; his death would throw the whole army into chaos. He would have to take him out first.


    But perhaps he could take them all out in a single stroke. He had an idea.


    ¡°Show me to the general,¡± he said.


    Albus took him around the corner where a hole had been dug beside the fort down to its foundation. A set of rotten timbers had been removed and set aside. Replacement timbers were set into the hole, but had not been put in place yet, leaving a wide open gap in an otherwise entryless outpost, save for the single entrance on the floor above the ground floor.


    ¡°Through there and up three floors. The general is in a room on the west side.¡±


    ¡°Return to your duties. Tell the men to not break allegiance yet.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± Albus said.


    Fraius dropped into the hole while Albus returned to his patrol. He slipped through the opening into the basement. How foolish the captain of this outpost had been to leave such a literal gaping hole in their defense. He was sure that this wouldn¡¯t be the one.


    The basement was dark, empty, and reeked of dust and mildew. If he took a deep breath, he could smell the decaying remains of an unidentifiable animal. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he could tell there wasn¡¯t much in the way of stores here. How were they planning on feeding themselves?


    He could see a faint light across the room, coming from the bottom of what he presumed was a door. Cautiously and slowly, he made his way across the room to the light. Even if he suspected the room was empty, that wasn¡¯t a given. He didn¡¯t want to kick something by accident, so he took a few cautious steps, felt around for anything near him, and then took a few more. It was painfully slow, but safer than trying to sprint in the near-pitch blackness.


    The door handle had a locking mechanism with a keyhole, but as he tried it, it opened. Another foolish misstep by the soldiers occupying this outpost. He could have taken it with a dozen soldiers if he had wanted to.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    But that was the business of the Fenn army and not his. He suspected they were planning a frontal assault as soon as their men were in position. Another foolish tactical decision, considering the ease with which they could get inside the fort. Maybe he¡¯d see what he could do to ease things along.


    Carefully opening the door, he slipped into the soft light. There was a hallway to other storerooms to his right, and a rickety staircase to his left. He headed up the stairs. They had clearly seen better days, and if he were any heavier footed, they might have come down and taken him with them. This outpost could probably be demolished with a single hard blow.


    The corridors were empty as he made his way up to the fourth floor, where the general was sleeping. He did see a few guards on patrols, but they were easily avoided. They weren¡¯t expecting anyone hostile on the inside, so did their jobs carelessly.


    As he climbed the stairs, he wondered how he would find which room the general was sleeping in. He didn¡¯t want to have to search every room. That was be a waste of time and would increase his chances of being caught, but he would do it if he had to.


    He didn¡¯t have to worry. There was a pair of sleepy guards on watch outside one of the rooms. They were the only ones in front of any doors that he had seen so far. This had to be the general¡¯s quarters.


    He pressed himself against the wall and shimmied quietly along it. By the time the two guards noticed him it was too late. When the first one¡¯s eyes widened at seeing a man appear from nowhere, he leapt, daggers blazing. His first strike sliced the man¡¯s throat before he had a chance to yell.


    He kicked himself off the wall and came up on the back of the second guard, plunging his knife downward on the back of his neck, slicing his spine. The man collapsed without a word. He normally would have put some thought in as to where to hide these bodies, but by the time they were discovered, it would be too late.


    He tried the door, and it was locked. Finally, someone who had some sense! Of course, a locked door wouldn¡¯t be much of an impediment to him. He brought out his lockpicks and set to work. The simple lock quickly opened under his skill, and he slipped inside.


    The general was on his belly, facing away from Fraius, snoring softly. Fraius wanted his chance to gloat, so he lit one of the lanterns beside the bed. While the general was still asleep, he gathered up the man¡¯s hands and tied them behind his back. When Fraius was satisfied that the knots were secure, he rolled the man over onto his back. As soon as the general was awake, and he opened his mouth to yell, Fraius stuffed an oil-soaked rag into it. Alaric tried to spit it out, but he held it in place.


    ¡°You will soon sleep, general, but first I wanted you to see who it was brought your doom.¡±


    The general struggled to get to his feet, but with his arms tied behind him it was difficult to maneuver himself. Fraius easily pushed him back down on the bed, pulled out the remainder of the rope he¡¯d brought with him and tied the general to the bedframe.


    He grabbed one of the other lanterns and smashed it over the bound general, dousing him with its oil. He made sure to cover not just him, but his blankets and the straw-covered floor. The general¡¯s eyes widened as he recognized Fraius¡¯ plans. He tried to scream out, but with the oil-soaked rag in it, the muffled sounds were barely audible.


    Fraius grabbed the other, still-lit lantern and backed up to the open doorway.


    ¡°Goodnight, general,¡± he said. ¡°May the dreams in your next life be pleasant.¡±


    He bowed slightly and tossed the lantern back into the room. The arc was high, and it shattered as it landed on the edge of the bed. The oil remaining in the lantern ignited and quickly spread to the general¡¯s blankets and to the floor. In a few seconds the blaze was a raging inferno.


    Fraius tipped an imaginary cap as he slipped back out of the room.


    ***


    When Ulfnar woke, he was back in his tower room. The last thing he remembered was eating and drinking himself sick. Lady Larella never returned, and the guard never brought that promised akavita. It was for the better though. Whatever he had consumed had given him a massive hangover that lasted for days. Lina wouldn¡¯t stop saying I told you so.


    That had been weeks ago, and there still wasn¡¯t any sign of a rescue. He¡¯d spent every day and night looking out the little arrow slit for a sign of someone. All he saw was an elaborate carriage leaving the day after his visit with Larella. He assumed it was hers, and she was on her way back to wherever she had come from.


    It had been extremely quiet since she left. Not that it was particularly noisy before, but he¡¯d occasionally hear shouts and stomps of other men. Guards, he presumed. Even a new guard had been bringing him his food. Patch, it appeared, had other duties. He didn¡¯t know why, but he missed the ugly man.


    He plopped down onto the bed and grabbed Lina. ¡°She lied to us, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡®Does that surprise you?¡¯


    No, he supposed he didn¡¯t. Why should he have trusted a fancy dressed woman who came from out of nowhere, ply him with food and drink, only to pretend to ask for his help. But if she didn¡¯t actually want his help, then why had she come?


    ¡°At least I didn¡¯t sleep with her,¡± he said. He had been tempted to, and almost gave in. When was the last time he had been with a woman? He couldn¡¯t remember. After a while, he¡¯d stopped missing it. He didn¡¯t know what to make of that¡ªin Teorton, he¡¯d been known as a royal with a high libido.


    ¡®She poisoned you,¡¯ Lina said.


    Did she? He seemed to remember there was wine, and he drank a lot of it. Enough to black out from the alcohol. After all the weight he had lost in this prison, it wouldn¡¯t have taken much. He couldn¡¯t discount the possibility though. But to what end?


    ¡°I¡¯m going to rot in here,¡± he said.


    ¡®Look on the bright side,¡¯ Lina said, ¡®you look strikingly good skinny.¡¯


    He lay in bed hugging Lina until it was dark. Her cold embrace comforted him. He had come to the realization that there was no chance of a rescue. He was fooling himself to think otherwise. What was the use in hoping? What was the use in anything? He might as well give up on everything.


    If he was going to rot, might as well get on with it. He resolved that the fastest way to meet the end was to just stop eating. The way they were feeding him, it wasn¡¯t like he was going to get any hungrier.


    Lina didn¡¯t protest.


    Several hours later, him sitting in the darkness, the nightly thumping of a guard coming up the stairs interrupted his self-loathing. They were late, weren¡¯t they? It felt like it was near midnight. They didn¡¯t normally wait this long to bring him food. Maybe they were kind enough to help him reach his end.


    ¡°Might as well go away. I¡¯m not going to eat,¡± he said as the keys clanged in the lock.


    When the door banged open, the person who entered was not the guard he was expecting. Instead, it was a short woman. Not terribly short, but below average in height. She was dressed entirely in tanned leather armor, bloody sword in one hand and a helmet in the other. Behind her was a soldier holding the keys.


    Her long black hair ran down her shoulders. She was homely rather than beautiful. A stark contrast to the voluptuous Larella. Her dark skin gave her an exotic look. Exotic to him at least. Dark skin was a rarity in Camulan.


    ¡°Are you here to kill me?¡± he asked. ¡°Good. I won¡¯t resist.¡± He laid back on the bed and spread his arms wide, but did not let go of Lina. If he was going to be killed, he wanted her by his side.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be foolish, highness. Get up. It¡¯s time to go.¡±


    ¡°Beheading Hill is so far away, I¡¯d rather not. Just kill me here.¡±


    ¡°For the last time, I¡¯m here to rescue you, not kill you, idiot.¡±


    He lifted his head up. Rescue? Could it be true? Was this the woman who was promised? Did it matter? If she was taking him to kill him, he was planning on starving himself to death anyway. If he was going to die, might as well go with her first.


    He held the doll in front of him. ¡°Well, Lina, what do you think? Should we go?¡±


    The woman sheathed her sword, strode over to him and grabbed him by the arm. He resisted being pulled to his feet. Not until Lina answered him.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this foolishness,¡± she said. ¡°Furis, help me.¡±


    The other soldier strode over and grabbed his other arm, lifting him from the bed. Together they began dragging him across the floor towards the door. As they crossed the threshold Lina finally answered.


    ¡®Might as well,¡¯ she said. ¡®What do we have to lose?¡¯


    They had nothing to lose. With Lina¡¯s approval, he stuffed her in his pocket, got his feet under him and yanked his arms from his two rescuers.


    ¡°I can do it,¡± he said. ¡°If you¡¯re going to kill me, at least I¡¯ll see the stars before I go.¡±


    Bloody bodies sporadically littered the floor as they made their way out of the tower. Much fewer than he expected. How did we not hear this?


    ¡®We were asleep,¡¯ Lina answered, ¡®and the walls are two-feet thick.¡¯


    They walked carefully, but not without urgency through the rest of the tower, and out the two front doors. Three bodies littered the doorway. One had his head impaled on the portcullis, which they apparently tried to close during their siege.


    They met up with four more soldiers when they exited the tower. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The smell of fresh air. He had been in the tower so long; he forgot what it smelled like. It was sweeter than he remembered.


    The moon was full and bright, shining down on all of Laryndor. The stars, still twinkling brightly despite being beaten back by the moonlight. The air was brisk, but not cold. A chill ran through his body, and not because of the temperature. He was free!


    They led him away from the tower for another hour before they came down into a gulley beside a small copse of trees. In the gully sat another soldier with a carriage and four horses. Without taking a moment to rest, the woman ushered Ulfnar into the carriage before following herself. Outside, four soldiers mounted their horses, while the final one climbed aboard the carriage before it lurched into motion.


    The carriage was utilitarian rather than fancy¡ªessentially a box on wheels. A non-descript vehicle that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place in a small village farm or a capital city. It was a perfect vehicle for a sneaky escape.


    ¡°Are you going to grace me with your name?¡± Ulfnar asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°We didn¡¯t have time for introductions in the tower. I am Tylenna of the Spires.¡±


    Of the Spires? He¡¯d never heard of it before. It sounded like a very fancy place with lots of tall towers. Would it be too farfetched to guess that it was in Tambryne? After his meeting with Larella, he surmised that he must be in Camulan¡¯s southern neighbor.


    ¡°And let me guess¡­¡± he paused for dramatic effect, ¡°you need my help to overthrow the Archduke.¡±


    Her face widened in surprise. Her hand unconsciously went to a dagger at her hip. She probably didn¡¯t even know she had done it.


    ¡°How did you know that?¡± she asked, eying him warily.


    ¡°Lady Larella told me,¡± he answered. ¡°She a friend of yours? She knew you were coming.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°She knew?¡± and then under her breath, ¡°how¡­?¡±


    ¡®She seems nice,¡¯ Lina said, ¡®I hate to kill her.¡¯


    Him too. He already liked her better than Larella, despite barely talking to her. She seemed more earnest than his captor. But a deal was a deal, and now he had to worry about an assassin on his trail to make sure he did what he promised to do.


    ¡°What happens if I don¡¯t help you? What if I jumped out of this carriage right now?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯d find the Great Bog quite unpleasant,¡± she said. There¡¯s a narrow maze of paths through it, and they¡¯re difficult to find if you don¡¯t know where they are. I¡¯m afraid you would starve here.¡±


    She paused and reached into her pack. She pulled out two things: A heavy sack of gold, and a meatpie. She handed them over to him. ¡°I¡¯m sure a prince on the run has need for both of these,¡± she said. "I won¡¯t stop you from leaving, but I beg you to hear what I have to say. My proposal will ease any reluctance you might have towards staying.¡±


    After he took the two packages, she spread out as best as she could on the carriage¡¯s bench, closed her eyes and went to sleep. It was a strange display of trust, considering they barely knew each other. He could lean over and plunge her dagger right into her chest.


    He almost did but stopped himself. Not because he would be immediately killed by the soldiers when they found her dead, nor because he would find himself dead among the grasses and stink of the Great Bog. No, he was staying because he found Tylenna of the Spires interesting. He stayed because he wanted to know what was going to happen next.


    He still had to find his way to Fort Camulan though, so he couldn¡¯t take too long. Aeolwyn needed his help. But how would he get there? If Tylenna could protect him from the assassin who was probably already following him, and he did what she wanted, maybe he could convince her to travel north. His only other option was to sneak away in the night or kill her.

 32: Changing the Face of Battle

    Loud alarm bells roused Aeolwyn out of his slumber. What was going on? There was yelling and stomping, and was that the clashing of swords? He could smell the faint odor of smoke. Something was going on. He needed to find out what.


    He leapt out of bed and threw the door open. A shape in front of him forced him to jump back. He fumbled for the sword beside his bed while not losing sight of the target.


    He needn¡¯t have bothered. It was Reiva, as he should have expected.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re under attack,¡± she replied. She already had his chainmail in her hands and was trying to get it over his head.


    ¡°There¡¯s no time for this. I need to help!¡±


    He tried to get around her, but she wouldn¡¯t let him move. He tried to squeeze past her, but she used his chainmail as a shield and kept him from leaving.


    ¡°There¡¯s time, and you will take it.¡±


    He could do nothing but agree. He let her put the mail over his head, put his helmet on and clasped the sword belt around his waist. He took the shield from her as she led him out of the room.


    She went first, slipping quietly into the corridor. The smell of smoke was much stronger here. Someone had set fire to the outpost. As soon as he could find a large enough group, he would have to set the men to putting it out before it got out of control and burned the whole building down.


    Together they went down two flights of stairs before they encountered anyone. Unfortunately, they were dead soldiers. Standing over them were a half-dozen Fennish men with blood on their swords and lust in their eyes. The second they saw Aeolwyn and Reiva, they charged.


    How had they gotten into the outpost? He had made sure to set guards. Had they been betrayed?


    There wasn¡¯t time to place blame. The six men were already upon them. Reiva leapt up in the air and landed on the back of one of the middle soldiers as the first one¡¯s sword bounced harmlessly off Aeolwyn¡¯s shield.


    Aeolwyn swung low, under his shield. His blade slashed the soldier¡¯s unprotected leg and cut deeply. The man let out a muffled scream as Aeolwyn slammed his shield¡¯s metal boss into his face. He collapsed to the ground.


    Reiva¡¯s two daggers had already plunged into the back of one soldier. She cartwheeled away from him amid a flurry of swings by his shield-mate who was trying to force her into the blade of his companion. She dove between the soldier¡¯s legs and sliced deep into his thighs. She gracefully rolled to her feet as the man¡¯s legs unleashed torrents of blood.


    The second guard reached out and pulled down Aeolwyn¡¯s shield and attempted to skewer him with a sword lunge at his face. Aeolwyn twisted to the side. His sword came up at the man¡¯s overextended arm and sliced it in two. His sword clattered to the ground.


    Aeolwyn turned in time to dodge a slash by another soldier, who, like the second man overextended his lunge. Aeolwyn stuck his foot out, tripping him, sending him sprawling to the floor. His now handless companion tripped and fell atop him. Aeolwyn drove his sword into the pile, skewering both men.


    The last man standing, seeing the sudden destruction of his men turned and fled. With careless nonchalance, Reiva flipped one of her daggers and threw it at the fleeing soldier. It pierced him in the back, forcing him to stumble a few steps before he landed, face down on the ground. She grabbed Aeolwyn and together they hurried to the next set of stairs. She made sure to retrieve her dagger from the soldier¡¯s back as they fled.


    The second floor, where the only door to the outside lay was a roaring inferno. Flames licked up from the rear of the building where General Alaric had taken his quarters towards the front of the room. The heat scorched their skin as smoke choked their lungs. He hoped the general had gotten out in time.


    Revia held onto his arm as she pulled him quickly towards the exit. He needed no urging.


    ¡°Lookout!¡± she cried. A beam above both of them, engulfed with flame cracked and fell. She shoved him just in time to stop him from getting brained by it. It landed hard between them; the rising flames becoming an impenetrable wall.


    ¡°Go!¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to leave her, but if he stayed, the flames would kill him. If there was anyone who could get out of a towering inferno like the outpost, it was her. He nodded and headed towards the staircase.


    He hurried down the steps as fast as he could. Commander Boede had formed up a shield wall that was doing very poorly against the Fennish shield wall. There were just too many Fenns and too few of the Camulan soldiers. They needed help! Off in the distance, towards the river the men of the cavalry were slowly getting their equipment together. That was where Sefalus was. If he rallied the cavalry, he might be able to break the enemy¡¯s line.


    The burning building finally gave up trying to hold the staircase. It collapsed as he made his way down the last few steps. He jumped as he felt it shifting under his feet and raced towards the water.


    Just as he came around the corner of the tower, he ran face-to-face with the person he least expected to see: Fraius. They ran into each other hard, and both men went sprawling.


    ***


    Reiva watched Aeolwyn go. She might die in this inferno, but at least he was safe. The thought didn¡¯t bring fear to her mind. In fact, even if she took her time, she expected some sort of miracle would save her from the fire.


    Ever since she¡¯d heard the soothsayer¡¯s words, she had been taking many more risks than were prudent. Not that she had feared death before, but now she just wasn¡¯t worried about it. It was like his words sunk deep into her like she had become part of some sort of prophecy.


    She shook her head. She didn¡¯t want to relive that day, nor did she want to think about her cousin, the Spires, or The Ring of Anud. She¡¯d considered her past old history until Xabat had brought it out. She couldn¡¯t get her hopes up though. It needed to stay in the past. Her life was here now.


    With all this burning timber, there had to be another way out. She just needed to find it. She turned back to the stairs and headed down into the basement. The prince had ordered some of the rotten timbers replaced there and, if she remembered correctly, the hole from the rotten timbers were still there.


    She raced down the stairs, flames licking at her boots. She ran down the corridor where all the storerooms were located and found one with the door still open. That had to be it. She dove into the room just as another beam fell behind her.


    The flames brightly lit the empty room. The hole was still there, with no sign of the guards. Had they been killed? She hoped not. They must have run off to defend the outpost when the alarm bell sounded. Foolish soldiers. An unguarded opening was probably how the Fenns got in.


    ¡°Reiva of the Spires!¡± A man called out from behind her.


    She spun, daggers in hand. She recognized the man instantly. He was of medium build and neither strong, nor attractive. His pock-marked face gave him a decidedly sinister appearance. The patch covering one eye made it worse. She was the one who had taken his eye. Had he come for revenge? How did he find her?


    ¡°Hello, Dallin,¡± she said. ¡°Did my cousin send you?¡±


    He said nothing. He just drew his sword and began walking towards her. She stepped to the side, making sure to keep a safe distance from the weapon until he decided to lunge. She didn¡¯t have time for this, but he was too good of a swordsman to strike out of haste. Maybe she could goad him into an ill-timed attack.


    ¡°The years have not been kind to you, Dallin,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re uglier than I remember. And what a shame about your eye.¡±


    She kept sidestepping towards the eye covered with a patch. It was a vulnerability that she wanted to exploit. He kept turning as well, not wanting to give her the obvious advantage.


    They kept circling until his back was to the opening. She shouldn¡¯t have been so foolish. She didn¡¯t need this fight. All she needed to do was escape, and she could have done that easily before. Now, she had to go through him to get out of here.


    ¡°Lady Larella sends her regards,¡± he said and suddenly attacked with lightning speed.


    She parried his first blow with her off-hand dagger and thrust towards him with her right, but his blade was already there countering the strike. He swung back again towards her face, forcing her to duck. She stepped forward into his guard and jumped up, both daggers pointed at his chest. He leapt back before either of them hit their target.


    Lady Larella? They weren¡¯t related at all. She was friendly with her cousin and helped him take the ring from Reiva, but then, so did a lot of other people. Larella was of noble birth but was not of the Spires. Why would she send an assassin after her?


    Dallin charged again, his sword a blur of motion. His blade was moving too fast for a dagger to make an effective shield. She dove to the side, rolled to her feet and leapt up, grabbing one of the beams that was not yet on fire. She kicked out with both legs and hit him on the side of the head. He stumbled sideways, but kept his feet.


    That gave her all the opening she needed. She bolted towards the opening and climbed through, wall-climbing her way up and out of the pit. He would soon be after her, but she needed to see to Aeolwyn.


    ***


    Fraius was the first to get to his feet. The heaviness of Aeolwyn¡¯s armor gave the assassin a slight advantage, and he used it. The assassin jumped on him before he could stand and tried to stab the blades of his weapons into Aeolwyn¡¯s chest. They were stopped by his armor, but he still felt like he was getting punched hard.


    ¡°Nice to see you well, Fraius,¡± Aeolwyn said. The heavier man on his back forced Aeolwyn into the dirt. No matter how hard Aeolwyn tried, he couldn¡¯t get out from under the assassin. His hilt stabbed him uncomfortably in the hip.


    Frauis didn¡¯t answer his taunt. He just grabbed Aeolwyn¡¯s helmet and forced his head back. Aeolwyn knew the dagger was coming for his throat and got his hand there just in time. If not for his armor, the blade would have cut some fingers off. He was lucky he hadn¡¯t quite grown into the length of the chainmail.


    His left hand reached under his sleeve and drew the only weapon at his disposal: his dagger. He thrust the blade behind him over his shoulder. Fraius was unarmored and the knife cut deep into his flesh. The man screamed and rolled off. Aeolwyn got quickly to his feet and drew his sword. His shield was too far away to fetch.


    The dagger sliced into Fraius¡¯ shoulder blade, but the man moved as if he hadn¡¯t been struck at all. His hands were a blur of motion, and Aeolwyn barely could fend off the attack. The chainmail saved him from a hundred fatal blows. He was suddenly thankful that Reiva had made him put it on.


    It was difficult keeping his feet while retreating. As Aeolwyn backed closer to the river, the ground got muddier and more waterlogged. It was all he could do to keep his feet from sliding around. Fraius, it seemed, had no difficulty in the loose terrain.


    If only Aeolwyn could strike him. The longer reach of the sword should have quickly put an end to this battle, but the assassin was so fast, and so acrobatic, it was impossible to do anything but keep himself alive. At least his armor protected most of him. There were only a few targets Fraius could strike for: his legs, his groin, and his face, so he focused on protecting those.


    Then, Fraius slipped.


    He had lunged forward with a blade directed straight at Aeolwyn¡¯s neck and planted his feet on a particularly muddy section. The sliding mud overextended his stance, and suddenly he was exposed. Aeolwyn shifted his hips and came up with his sword. He had expected his blade to block Fraius¡¯ strike, but the assassin was too far forward and off balance. Instead of blocking the dagger, the blade came straight up on Fraius¡¯ arm, slicing right through it.


    Fraius screamed as his severed arm flew away from him and landed in the mud. Aeolwyn didn¡¯t give him an opportunity to counter with the right-handed dagger. He turned, stepped into the attack and plunged the blade into Fraius¡¯ chest.


    Fraius¡¯ expression was a mix of shock, surprise, and pain. He mumbled some inaudible words as the light drained from his eyes and he slumped to his knees. Aeolwyn pulled the blade out, and the assassin collapsed, face first in the mud.


    ¡°Aeolwyn!¡± Egne shouted from behind him.


    The mage was disheveled, but unhurt. Aeolwyn was glad to see him. He was afraid that all his friends had died in the fire. He hadn¡¯t seen Galafar or Brakus, but at least he knew Egne was alright.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we already kill that guy?¡± he asked, looking at the body of Fraius.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t take,¡± he said.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°That one will,¡± Egne said, pointing at the hole in Fraius¡¯ back. ¡°You want to cut his head off, just in case?¡±


    Aeolwyn shook his head. ¡°No point in desecrating a corpse.¡± He gazed out in the distance. He had twelve horsemen still getting their horses ready. Someone had already saddled Sefalus. He needed to rally those men into action. The shield wall was holding, but not for long.


    ¡°Egne, I need you to find and rally as many archers as you can. Gather the mages, too. See what you can do with them.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± Egne said in a surprisingly serious tone. The mage hadn¡¯t treated Aeolwyn any different since his promotions. He wondered what had come over him.


    It wasn¡¯t the time to find out though. Aeolwyn grabbed his shield and ran over to the horses, mounting Sefalus in a single motion. The horse was prancing, eager for action.


    ¡°Get mounted!¡± he said to the cavalrymen who had jumped at his sudden appearance. ¡°We¡¯ve got work to do!¡±


    The men quickly got on their horses and drew their swords. He wished they had lance, or even spears. But they didn¡¯t¡ªswords would have to do. He wished he had knights, too, instead of the mounted soldiers, but knights were expensive, and were all far away, partying with the other nobles.


    ¡°For Camulan!¡± Aeolwyn shouted as he spurred his horse into motion. The men behind him cheered and fell in line behind him.


    Aeolwyn led them far outside the enemy¡¯s shield wall. He needed to get behind them and crush them from behind. Normal doctrine for light cavalry would be to harry the flanks of the shield wall in a hit-and-run type of maneuver, but Aeolwyn didn¡¯t have time for a long engagement. His men needed him. He needed to go for the throat.


    One of the cavalrymen rode beside him as they rounded behind the enemy¡¯s shield wall. He made sure to keep a good distance from them. He wanted to stay out of range of the archers, though he still didn¡¯t see any. Were they keeping them in reserve somewhere? It was logical not to deploy them now since they would hit their own men in the shield wall, but shouldn¡¯t they be kept somewhere ready?


    ¡°Lord Aeolwyn, where are we going?¡± the cavalryman asked.


    ¡°Down the middle,¡± Aeolwyn answered. ¡°We¡¯re going to crush them from behind!¡±


    The man just nodded and kept on going. Aeolwyn brought them to a halt a quarter mile from the enemy¡¯s line. Still no sign of any archers or cavalry, or any soldiers in reserve. The general of this attack, wherever he was, committed his full troops to the shield wall. No wonder Aeolwyn¡¯s men were so outnumbered.


    In the distance, he could see Galafar next to Boede in the shield wall. He was happy that they both got out alive. Hopefully both of them would stay that way. They would if he had anything to say about it.


    ¡°Swords!¡± Aeolwyn shouted.


    At his command, all the men drew their weapons, holding them out to the side, ready to trample or slice any enemy that got in the way of their charge. He pointed his at the rough area that he thought was the best point to divide their shield wall.


    ¡°Charge!¡± he shouted.


    As soon as the words left his mouth, he brought Sefalus to a gallop. He thought he was a fast horse, but apparently, he was mistaken. Half of his 12 cavalrymen passed him in the first hundred yards. They shouldn¡¯t have been doing that. They all needed to stay together!


    ¡°Together!¡± he yelled at the group that was quickly outpacing him. He might as well have been yelling in an empty room. They were already too far away to hear; the pounding of the horse hooves clogged their hearing. He chased after as best he could.


    Just as the horses were getting close enough to plow through the enemy¡¯s back line, then men turned and raised pikes. Pikes were the cavalry¡¯s worst enemy. Horses were reluctant to stampede knowingly to their deaths. Sefalus and the horses behind him turned off in time, but it was too late for the others.


    ¡°Stop!¡± he cried. It was a futile gesture, and he knew it. The six horses ahead of him couldn¡¯t stop or turn fast enough. They ran straight into the line of pikemen. The pikes drove into the horses torsos and out their backs. The men atop were flung forward into the shield wall, only to be immediately killed by the men they landed on top.


    It was a disaster. Sure, the horses may have trampled a few of the Fenns, but it was, in his opinion, a worthwhile exchange for the enemy. Aeolwyn had just lost half of his most important troops and routed the rest.


    As Aeolwyn chased after his fleeing horsemen, he saw Galafar and Boede look up at him. Just as he locked eyes with Boede, a spearman from the enemy¡¯s shield wall rammed a spear through his throat. Blood sprayed from him as he disappeared below Galafar¡¯s shield.


    The men closed ranks, but their shield wall started to buckle. It wouldn¡¯t take long before it would completely collapse. He had to do something!


    He kicked Sefalus even faster to catch up with his cavalry.


    ¡°Stop! We have to go back and help.¡±


    ¡°Not a chance!¡± the closest man shouted back at him. ¡°Those pikemen will be our deaths!¡±


    He was right. They couldn¡¯t charge them again, that would be suicide. They needed better tactics. But how? The Fenn¡¯s shield wall was too big, and he had too few horses to just harry them.


    He needed a plan, and as they came around the backside of the enemy¡¯s shield wall, already blazing with pikes, he realized he had one.


    ¡°On me!¡± he shouted.


    He urged Sefalus faster to get to the head of the column of fleeing horses. His idea had better work, or they were all dead men.


    ***


    Galafar had been on duty when the soldiers attacked. He barely saw them coming just in time. He sent Toldor to go ring the alarm bell and called for more men with barely enough time for Commander Boede to gather them together and form a shield wall against the main force. Some of the attackers must have slipped through and set fire to the outpost. Aeolwyn was still inside as far as he knew. He prayed to Laryn that he would get out in time.


    He stood shoulder to shoulder with Boede in the shield wall now. He had quickly taken command of the shield wall, but they were now fighting a losing battle against the oncoming Fenns. Where was General Alaric? They needed a commander to oversee what else was happening on the battlefield. From here, their view was limited.


    They were consistently losing ground to the Fenns. Whenever Galafar struck down a man, two more took his place. There were so many of them! Where did they get all these men? None of the scouting reports he had seen had indicated so many men.


    The heat behind him was getting hotter. They were getting closer to the burning tower. Pretty soon their backs would be against the tower and the men would be burned alive. Or they would turn and flee and be cut down by the Fenns. They needed more men! Where were the remaining soldiers and the archers? Where was the cavalry that General Alaric had brought?


    Just then he heard the thundering sound of hooves ahead of him. He held tight on his shield. The enemy had cavalry! He expected that any second the Fennish shield wall would part, leaving their shield wall open to a cavalry charge. Without pikes to protect them, they were as good as dead. Spears just weren¡¯t long enough.


    The Fenns stayed put as the horses drew closer. Then, a mass of pikes appeared in their back lines. As quick as could be, their rear pikemen set their weapons. Moments later he heard the booming sound of horses striking a line of pikemen. He saw the horses and men scream as they were thrown from their mounts.


    It wasn¡¯t enemy cavalry! It was theirs! And they had just tried and failed to charge the rear of Fenn¡¯s shield wall. A brilliant tactic that, unfortunately, the Fenns were prepared for. The Fenns¡¯ shield wall bucked amid the chaos of flying horses and men, but before Galafar and his men could exploit it, it firmed up and pushed harder.


    The rear line of cavalry managed to turn away from the pikes before it was too late for them. Near their front, he saw Aeolwyn. Only someone like him could have thought of such a bold strategy. He was lucky to have not been decimated by arrows or the enemy¡¯s cavalry.


    His eyes were panicked. He hadn¡¯t expected the battle to go this way. He was cleverer than he was experienced. Galafar thought the young captain had just learned a valuable and important lesson.


    Aeolwyn and Galafar locked eyes for a moment before. Boede lifted his head up to watch the prince go. ¡°Where is he going?¡± the commander asked. Galafar had the same question. Before Boede could react, a spear came from behind the enemy shield wall and pierced his throat. Blood sprayed from his neck and he made a strange gurgling sound before collapsing to the ground.


    With no time to tend to him, Galafar closed ranks and overlapped his shield with the man that had been next to Boede. The pressure of the enemy¡¯s shield wall pushing them was getting to be too much. They had given up so much ground already. Now, with their commander dead, what were they going to do? Some men behind him who had seen the commander go down were already crying out. Some to Galafar¡¯s left had already thrown down their weapons and fled. He didn¡¯t blame them, but he was not one to flee.


    ¡°Hold together!¡± he shouted. ¡°For Camulan! For the prince!¡±


    Hollow words, but a few of the men near him echoed his shout and pushed harder against the Fenns. They were hanging on, but barely. With his cavalry charge broken, he hoped Aeolwyn would think of something.


    ***


    Aeolwyn found Egne behind the shield wall with the archers and a handful of mages. He didn¡¯t know where the rest had gone. The archers were holding steady but were wary of the retreating shield wall and the heat of the now-engulfed tower.


    Most of the archers were missing. Aeolwyn suspected they had or were about to burn to death in the tower. They had been stationed at arrow slits on various floors in case of a pending attack. What they hadn¡¯t prepared for was for someone to burn the tower from the inside.


    ¡°We can¡¯t do anything while the two shield walls are so close together!¡± Egne said. He needn¡¯t have told Aeolwyn, he recognized the situation immediately. But he didn¡¯t need the archers for what he was planning.


    ¡°Archers! Pick up swords and shore up the shield wall,¡± Aeolwyn ordered. ¡°You¡¯ll not be needing your bows today.¡±


    Some of them grumbled, and others looked like they were ready to flee, but a sharp look from their commander put a stop to complaints and any idea of running away.


    ¡°You heard him, boys! Let¡¯s go save the infantry!¡± their captain shouted.


    Aeolwyn turned to his friend and held out his hand.


    ¡°Come up, Egne. I have an idea.¡± Egne took his arm and jumped on behind him. Sefalus would be slower with two riders, but they didn¡¯t need speed for this. He looked to the other mages, ¡°You all do the same. Find a horseman and mount up.¡±


    The three remaining mages found riders and climbed up behind the cavalryman.


    ¡°Do your best to hold on tight and keep your concentration,¡± Egne shouted at them. ¡°This is going to be wild!¡± He grinned as Aeolwyn got Sefalus in motion and the remaining cavalry galloped away.


    ***


    Galafar was afraid. Death was coming, and he knew it. The shield wall was on the verge of crumbling. They got a little boost when the archers finally realized that their bows weren¡¯t going to be of use and joined the shield wall. It didn¡¯t make up for the number of men they lost, but it was at least something.


    The wall hadn¡¯t broken yet. These men were bold and strong. Galafar knew some Shielders who would have cracked and fled by now. But not these Camulans. Many had begun taking up his call, shouting, ¡°For Aeolwyn! For the prince!¡± The battle cry distracted them from the hopeless situation and gave them fortitude.


    The enemy, however, was pressing their advantage. Now that the Camulani shield wall was so much smaller than theirs, they were beginning to curve around the flanks. The men on the outsides were struggling to hold them back. Once they got through, it would all be over.


    With Boede dead, Galafar wasn¡¯t sure how much longer they could hold out. The cries for Aeolwyn¡¯s glory could only do so much. For every step backwards, he could hear men behind him fleeing from the wall. It wouldn¡¯t bode well for them if they were caught.


    Just then a hatchet came down on his shield, shattering it. Galafar, now defenseless stepped back, but the men to his left and right were slow to fill the gap. A few men started pouring through the hole in the shield wall swinging their weapons wildly. Galafar was able to strike down the first two, but more were coming.


    This was the end. If they couldn¡¯t close this growing gap, the Fenns would break through here and pinch the rest of the Camulani from both sides. He fought with all his might to keep the enemy soldiers at bay, but it was too much for him. He was exhausted, as were the men around him. The spearmen weren¡¯t holding their spears as high, nor thrusting as hard. Someone needed to close that gap!


    Men started yelling and grumbling behind him. Not the sort of panicked yelling of men ready to flee. More the sound of a man angry that someone had stepped on him while he was sleeping.


    Then, to his right, a bit of motion caught his eye. He didn¡¯t dare to look, but he didn¡¯t need to. A black whirlwind of death appeared from nowhere and landed on the few men who were trying to force their way through the shield walls. The men collapsed as spinning daggers cut them down.


    It was Reiva! She climbed over the men of the shield wall to come to their rescue. The new distraction gave Galafar enough time to grab a shield from a dead man and plug the gap that had been created.


    As soon as Reiva had dispatched the remaining men behind their lines, she grabbed another shield and joined him, pushing back at the Fenns with all her might. It was not enough. Both of them, feet anchored against the enemy kept sliding backwards. Galafar felt his strength draining from him.


    Then, a massive firebolt erupted behind the Fennish lines, sending burning soldiers screaming and flying through the air. The heat of the fireball scorched Galafar¡¯s eyes. Then another, and a third. What was this?


    The Fenns stopped shoving as hard. A few shifted uneasily. Some dared look behind them at the chaos before receiving a spear to the back of their heads for their curiosity.


    After the firebolts came tiny slivers of ice, shooting from behind their lines. He could hear men screaming and dying.


    ¡°Push!¡± Galafar shouted. This was their chance. ¡°Attack!¡±


    His men began to push back at the Fenns and regain ground for the first time in the battle. Some of the enemy tripped over the dead bodies they¡¯d had to step over in their advance. Galafar¡¯s men quickly dispatched the fallen enemies.


    Then the crackle of lightning sounded from behind the enemy lines and a massive bolt blasted through the Fenns. It went so far that it hit some of the Camulani soldiers, exploding them in a fury of fire.


    The Fenns were panicking now. Men dropped their weapons and began to flee in any direction they could. Others, thinking they were being attacked by their own men turned their weapons on each other.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Reiva asked, hiding her head behind the shield.


    As the pressure of the shield wall eased up, Galafar stopped to watch the action.


    In the chaos of the enemy line, Galafar saw two men atop a piebald horse. One with a sword and gleaming helmet, the other in a robe shooting lightning from his fingers. It was Aeolwyn and Egne! Behind them three more horses each carrying a pair of men in the same configuration.


    ¡°Aeolwyn has just changed the face of battle,¡± Galafar answered in awe. He had indeed thought of a new strategy and brough the mages behind the enemy. Out of the range of their pikemen, but close enough to attack, the mages destroyed the enemy with impunity.


    ¡°Forward!¡± he cried. ¡°Destroy the Fenns!¡±


    This battle was over, and they had won. All that was left was the cleanup. Men cheered and rushed forward, cutting down the fleeing men, shouting ¡°For the prince!¡± and ¡°For Aeolwyn!¡± at every step.


    ***


    After the shouting and crying and the clang of weapon against weapon, the silence was almost too much to take. Aeolwyn almost couldn¡¯t bear the quiet. Only the wails of the dying could still be heard.


    Bodies lay everywhere. Both Fennish and Camulani. Aeolwyn had sent men and mages out to heal the men who could be saved and give a merciful ending to those who could not, on both sides of the battle.


    The Fennish survivors were taken prisoner and sent to a holding pen surrounded by guards. They sat sullenly, afraid of what came next. They would be questioned for certain. Aeolwyn would try to make sure they wouldn¡¯t be tortured, but he couldn¡¯t guarantee it.


    The outpost was a complete loss. It had burned completely to the ground, now just a pile of ash and glowing embers. The price of this battle had been high on both sides. He wanted to bury his face in a pillow and cry, but he dared not. After the battle, everyone was looking to him for their orders.


    ¡°Where is the general?¡± he asked Brakus. The grizzled old soldier was nursing over a dozen wounds, but declined any healing, telling the mages to save it for those who were more critically injured than him.


    ¡°Burned alive,¡± if the reports are to be believed. ¡°The soldier Albus said he saw one of the Fennish men leave his room just as the fighting started. He was tied to the bed. We believe the assassin, whoever he was, was the one who set the building ablaze. According to Albus, the assassin got away.¡±


    ¡°The assassin is dead,¡± Aeolwyn said. He had no doubt it was Fraius. ¡°He came after me next. I killed him.¡±


    ¡°That was well done, Lord,¡± Brakus said. ¡°With General Alaric and Commander Boede dead, you¡¯re in command now.¡±


    Aeolwyn nodded. He was the most senior officer.


    ¡°What of Flint?¡± he asked. He hadn¡¯t seen the captain during the battle and had thus far not seen him among the dead.


    ¡°Never escaped from the cell, as far as I can tell, but there¡¯s too much wreckage to sift through to know for sure.¡±


    Captain Flint too? This battle had been a disaster. All their senior leadership killed in one night. That alone was worth the price the Fennish had paid. Someone needed to take charge, and since he was the senior officer at the moment, it had to be him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll assume command for now,¡± he said. ¡°A massive gap in leadership like we just received could be disastrous. The men need someone to look to.¡±


    That was the truth. He had to hold the army together. If he didn¡¯t, the Fenns would gain a foothold in Camulan. If they captured Fort Camulan, they would be able to use it as a base to conquer the rest of the kingdom. He couldn¡¯t allow that.


    We¡¯ll stay here tonight,¡± he continued. ¡°But in the morning, we will make for Fort Camulan. A war has started, and we aren¡¯t safe here.¡±


    Brakus saluted. ¡°As you say, general.¡±

 33: The Boy General

    They limped back to Fort Camulan without another battle. Aeolwyn was thankful for that. If some reserve army had been around, there would be nothing left of his own army. Unlike Flint, he had made sure to send scouts out in every direction, with no sign of the enemy.


    He still couldn¡¯t believe that the general and commander were both dead. How had Fraius been able to get into the outpost? He knew there was a hole in the basement, but guards had been set to watch it, in addition to the guards that were on patrol outside the fort.


    The easy answer was that there must be someone helping him, and his first suspicion was the man that claimed to see him escape from the general¡¯s quarters. He wanted Reiva to speak to Soldier Albus, but he couldn¡¯t be found. The man had deserted along with many others.


    As soon as they reached the fort, he sent a pair of runners back to the capital for instructions. No one questioned him when he took command, not even the captains of the other divisions who had stayed behind in the fort. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was because he was a prince, or because he was the one who stopped the battle from becoming a slaughter.


    He ordered a meeting of all the soldiers to take place a few days after they¡¯d arrived. They needed to pick a temporary leader until Lord-General Harmin sent someone to take over. He would have done it sooner, but the soldiers who had fought in the battle needed time to rest and tend to their injuries.


    After the meeting, he would send some men back to the outpost to recover the bodies of Commander Boede and General Alaric. He wished they could have done it after the battle, but he was afraid of a second attack if they stayed, so their burials would have to wait until it was safe.


    They held the meeting in the largest room they had, the mess hall. It was the room where the soldiers took their meals. Like much of the rest of Fort Camulan, it was unadorned with any decoration, safe for fading battle flags and shields captured from enemies of long-ago battles.


    It was a large hall with a tall dais at one end where the commander would sit to eat if he took his meals with his men. Long tables were arranged in rows along the floor of the hall, divided by tall wood posts that held up the roof. It was dirty and dusty and smelled of old food, despite being cleaned every morning.


    Today, it was filled to capacity. Every soldier in the fort had arrived for their voice to be heard. Aeolwyn took a place on the dais along with Galafar and Brakus, who were there to ensure fair voting.


    The men cheered when Aeolwyn entered. Cheered! During his time in Fort Camulan, he¡¯d never seen any soldiers cheer General Alaric when he held meetings like this. They just talked among themselves until he began to speak.


    He held up his hands and they quieted down.


    ¡°As you know, General Alaric and Commander Boede were killed in the battle of Lannic Outpost,¡± he started. ¡°In their place, I have assumed temporary command to keep things in order. Runners have been sent to Lord-General Harmin to request or appoint a replacement general as quickly as possible.¡±


    A few boos broke out when he mentioned the message sent to Lord-General Harmin. He waved them to silence again.


    ¡°In the meantime, we need a temporary general. I don¡¯t know how it is normally done, but I have decided to put it to a vote. Since you men will be fighting and dying on the orders of your general, it is only fair that you have a voice in picking who that will be.¡±


    ¡°Prince Aeolwyn!¡± someone shouted. Others cheered in agreement.


    He continued, trying to ignore the calls. ¡°I have nominated Corporal Brakus, who is a competent leader who you all seem to trust. Are there any other nominations?¡±


    ¡°Prince Aeolwyn!¡± another voice shouted.


    Brakus stepped forward. ¡°I nominate Captain Aeolwyn to be our next general, and damn what Lord-General Harmin says!¡±


    The soldiers in the hall all erupted into cheers, amid calls of ¡°Prince Aeolwyn!¡± and ¡°The boy general!¡±


    He tried to calm them down, but they would not be calm. They kept chanting his name. How could he hold the vote if they wouldn¡¯t quiet down?


    Brakus leaned over and put his hand on Aeolwyn¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The soldiers have spoken. Congratulations, General Aeolwyn.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to be the permanent general. He was barely a captain, and too early for that. Now they wanted him to be their general?¡±


    Brakus pointed to one of the men in the front row. ¡°Farvarir, send message to the lord-general. We have picked our new General. No need to send another.¡±


    ¡°But what of the king? My father will surely override this vote.¡±


    ¡°Fuck the king!¡± someone shouted. ¡°Prince Aeolwyn is our general!¡±


    Aeolwyn sighed. That was that then. He wanted the men to choose, and they had. They had unanimously promoted him to general. He was afraid of what his father would say. Would he approve? Surely not. It was one thing to trust him with commanding an outpost or a small company of men, but an entire fort? That was out of the question.


    But the men chose him. He was their general.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ***


    ¡°Who in Laryn does that damned brother of mine think he is?¡± Alfyn shouted. ¡°His exile was punishment, not a promotion!¡±


    He was supposed to be dead. How had he managed to avoid not just the assassins he had sent, but the suicide missions Alfyn had ordered him on? Not only had he survived those, but now his men had voted him general? The audacity of those men! He should call up the knights of the realm and march on Fort Camulan.


    Lord-General Harmin had interrupted his midday meal as soon as the second missive had arrived, telling the lord-general they didn¡¯t need him to appoint a new general. This was only a day after Aeolwyn had sent a messenger asking for one. What game was his brother playing at?


    ¡°This is treason,¡± he said. ¡°Send a messenger with some soldiers to arrest Aeolwyn.¡±


    He refilled his wine cup for the third time. He shouldn¡¯t drink so much in the afternoon, but he needed something to calm him down. If he got drunk, he could just tell Smyton to cancel all his meetings. That was one of the benefits of being regent.


    ¡°Your grace,¡± Harmin said. ¡°That would not be wise. Any messenger sent would have his head returned and nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying the men of Fort Camulan would revolt? Then we will call up the knights. We will take him by force.¡±


    Harmin gave Alfyn a weak smile. He didn¡¯t approve of this plan either. ¡°The Fenns have invaded our territory and razed an outpost,¡± Harmin said. ¡°If that is not an act of war, I don¡¯t know what is. Now is not the time for infighting. We can¡¯t show any weakness to them. If we march on our own fort, we might as well open the gates for the Fennish king ourselves.¡±


    Alfyn slammed the cup down. He was, of course, right. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose a single man at Fort Camulan, nor could he give the enemy the chance to suspect there was any conflict between him and his brother.


    ¡°What do you suggest?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Confirm his appointment as general of Fort Camulan, your grace. He has proven clever and capable as a leader. His mentor, Sir Jom, is one of the greatest tacticians in all of Laryndor, and your brother appears to have taken his lessons to heart.¡±


    That was the opposite of what he wanted to do, but he could see no other way around it. Aeolwyn had won this round, but it was early yet. He would yet see his brother fall.


    He nodded. ¡°Very well but call up some knights anyway. Send them with the message. If we are to confirm his appointment, maybe some snotty nobles will undermine his authority.¡±


    Harmin frowned but nodded. ¡°It will be as you say, your grace.¡±


    He dismissed Harmin with a wave. Instead of going back to his lunch, he poured himself another cup of wine. He needed to think. He needed another plan to deal with Aeolwyn. He needed allies in Fort Camulan. Allies outside of the army. Someone he could trust, unlike that assassin who had not only failed in her job, but was, by all accounts, sharing his brother¡¯s bed.


    What was the name of that sea captain he had sent after Ulfnar? He couldn¡¯t remember. While he was sure he wouldn¡¯t be loyal to Alfyn because he was the king¡¯s regent, he was sure he would be loyal to Alfyn¡¯s gold.


    According to the reports, after kidnapping Ulfnar, he had sold his brother to a Tambrynese woman. As far as his spies knew, Ulfnar was still being held in a tower in the Great Bog. Quite fitting, if he did say so himself.


    Commodore Tyrec was his name. Alfyn would have to send word to him. He was sure Tyrec would have new and inventive ways of dealing with General Aeolwyn.


    ***


    Child Albus had arrived with the body of Fraius, and a stranger. Longinus mourned his friend. They laid him out in the Grand Chapel with all honors. Two Children stood guard over his body and candles were lit at his head and feet.


    His body was in a sorry state, pale, but not bloated. A large hole skewered him through the chest where his heart should be, and his left arm was missing above the elbow. The prince had done this? Dispatched his best assassin seemingly with ease?


    Albus could not explain what happened. He was too busy in the shield wall during the battle. He had fought with the enemy, but weakly, as he was ordered to. When he saw the battle had been going their way, he was content to stay in place, but when the prince rallied his troops and decimated the Fenns, Albus wisely fled to bring news to Lord Longinus.


    His alliance with the Fenns was at an end. The king failed to live up to his end of the bargain, the Fennish invasion was already at an end. Longinus needed new allies.


    He contemplated the man Child Albus had brought with him. A tall stocky man with a pock-marked face. An eyepatch covered one eye. He was dirt and covered with soot but stood with a bearing of a man used to such conditions.


    ¡°And who is your lord, master...?¡±


    ¡°Dillon, your grace,¡± he said. ¡°I owe allegiance to Lady Larella of Tambryne.¡±


    ¡°Your Radiance,¡± Longinus corrected. He didn¡¯t know anyone named Lady Larella in Tambryne. He would send enquiries to the chapter in Tambryne City as to her nature.


    ¡°Do you believe we can be of assistance to each other?¡± Longinus asked.


    ¡°Yes, Your Radiance,¡± Dillon said. That was good. He didn¡¯t need a second correction. That would be trouble if he did. If he needed a third, well the audience would be at an immediate end.


    ¡°I believe we want similar goals,¡± the man with the patch continued. ¡°You want Aeolwyn dead, and we want his bodyguard Reiva dead. Working together, I think we can accomplish these goals.¡±


    ¡°I agree with you,¡± Longinus said. ¡°Send for your lady so we may discuss these terms in person.¡±


    ¡°What of Fraius, Your Radiance?¡± Albus asked.


    ¡°An assassin in a sorry state,¡± he replied. ¡°We will have to help him.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s dead,¡± Dillon said.


    ¡°Not to me,¡± Longinus said. He held his staff out and Listened to the Gods. A black glow surrounded his body as he directed the flows of magic. He weaved the appropriate spell and channeled it into Fraius.


    The dark glow left his fingers and staff and enveloped Star Child Fraius. His wounds knitted together, though his arm didn¡¯t regrow. He would have his alchemists fit him with a prosthetic.


    His eyes popped open, though his body retained its deathly pallor. That was permanent, he was afraid. Fortunately, the stink of death could be masked, though not entirely eliminated.


    ¡°Can you hear my, Child Fraius?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yes, Your Radiance,¡± Fraius answered in a halting, raspy voice.


    Longinus smiled. He didn¡¯t do this often, as it was frowned upon by most mages throughout Laryndor, and if word got out that the Lord of the Courageous Order of Heavens knew and used necromantic magic, that would spell an end to their religion. But this was Fraius. He was too useful to allow to rot in the ground.


    He realized that he would have to pivot and stop going directly after the king of Camulan and his son. Dillon¡¯s arrival was a blessing that the one-eyed man didn¡¯t understand. By coming here, he revealed the instability of the Grand Duchy of Tambryne. If his Lady Larella was coming to him for help keeping Archduke Rovaielle on the throne, that meant this plot to unseat him was more powerful than they could manage.


    Which meant that he could pretend to help and unseat Rovaielle himself. Archduke Longinus had a nice ring to it, and having resources of Tambryne meant they could devote all of their resources to building their strength. The evils of the heavens were coming, and Laryndor had to be protected, no matter the cost.


    They would have their revenge on Prince Aeolwyn if they had to burn all of Camulan to the ground, but it would have to wait.