Fire And Ice (Book 1) (7 page)

             
Murmurs rose from the back of the crowd and came closer as people shuffled out of the way for a furious King Stemis who used his paunch like a battering ram.  “What is going on here?” he bellowed, looking between the two of them.  “Put away your knives before I decide to have you both tossed in the dungeon.”  

Coran removed his hand from his knife and waited.  Torvilin hesitated, still watching his enemy and weighing his options.  It was the two armored guards bearing pikes who entered the circle with a stern Lord Oran that made the decision for him.  Reluctantly, he sheathed his knife.

              “I want to know what idiocy this is about,” the King demanded.  His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.  “Well?  Tell me.!”

             
“He started it,” Torvilin accused, as he pointed a finger at Coran.  “He assaulted me without cause.  I demand that you have him confined.”

             
“Careful Torvilin,” Stemis cautioned in a dangerous tone.  He was staring directly at the Prince.  “I am King here.”

             
The purple clad Prince was taken aback by the seriousness in the King’s voice.  His anger and the circumstances must have made him go further than he had intended.  He looked less sure of himself and his sneer disappeared.  He became aware of the people watching.  Visibly gathering his pride about him like a cloak, Torvilin stood up straight and waited in silence.

             
“Now I would like some answers here,” Stemis continued, “right this minute!”  He stabbed a finger down at the floor to emphasize his point.  The King was really getting angry.

             
It was Margery who moved to her father’s side, rose up and started to whisper in his ear.  His face became even darker and his gaze remained locked on Torvilin.  She finished talking and stepped back out of the way with her hands together.  Stemis didn’t speak for a time, but stood there frowning.  The silence drew out until a sense of uneasiness dominated the hall.  Nobles shifted their stances as the whole hall had gone silent.  Finally he went to stand directly in front of Torvilin.  Their noses were less than six inches apart.

             
“You have insulted my daughter, and in so doing you have insulted me,” he said quietly so that only those close by could hear.  “Count your bloody lip as fair trade.  Understand?  I will tolerate no further insolence from you.”  The Prince nodded.  He seemed relieved to escape the King’s wrath.  “Your celebrating is done for this evening, Torvilin.  I suggest you retire early tonight.”  It was not a suggestion and Torvilin knew it.

             
The Prince regained his composure enough to give Coran a departing sneer.  He left the hall flanked by the two guards holding the pikes.  Everyone else took the cue to return to their reveling and ignore what had just happened.  Stemis kept up his stern demeanor until no one was left nearby.  Then his lips curved up into a smile which he turned on Coran.

             
“Well done my boy.”  The King put a hand to the younger man’s shoulder.  He looked around conspiratorially and noticed his daughters watching them.  “Go on, have fun.”  He made a shooing motion at them.  They walked away talking with their heads together.  “Now Coran,” he started, “I have an idea I would like to talk over with you.  It is more of a request actually.  You do not have to accept if you don’t want to.”

             
“Your Majesty,” Coran interrupted, “if you need me for something you only have to ask.”  He had been wondering when the King would get around to asking him something.  For two weeks the man had been giving him thoughtful looks.

             
Stemis looked at him gratefully.  “I know.  You are a good boy, sorry, a good man,” he corrected.  “I know I can rely on you.”  He paused, perhaps debating whether to ask after all.  “Katelyn will be leaving for Westland in a few days, maybe sooner.  She will stay there for a couple of weeks before returning.  Captain Loras will be in charge of her escort.  I was going to have him look out for her while she was visiting, but now I think that you might be a better choice.”  He hurried on when Coran looked about to protest.  “You showed me tonight that you are capable of this task.  I want you to go along as her protector, to look out for her and to protect her honor.”  He stopped talking and waited hopefully.              

Coran was shocked that the King would entrust the safety of his daughter to him.  He might be a knight, but he was only eighteen.  Could he take on such an important duty?  Thoughts swirled around in his head.  He didn’t have any other plans.  After the party he thought he might stay in Summerhall for a while then do some traveling, maybe with Devon.  The idea of Katelyn leaving had only changed his plans in that he might leave earlier.  He had to admit the thought of going with her was not unappealing, but it would be for duty if he went.  He had to decide on that basis.  Was he the right person to protect her?  There was something else that took a moment to register after being surprised by the asking.  Sending along a protector was not uncommon, but it was usually considered unnecessary.  The days of open treachery were far behind them, not that it couldn’t happen.  But the idea of it actually occurring- especially to a Sundarrion- would be horrifying to anyone who learned of such a deed.  The King’s motives might be more than he thought which led credence to the fact that it was not a spurious request.

              “I have to ask,” he said after deciding it was necessary to question his King, “Do you expect some sort of trouble while she is there?”  He had an idea of what kind of trouble.  Torvilin.

             
“No,” Stemis replied.  “It is just that I would feel better about it if someone I trusted was watching out for her.”

             
Coran wasn’t buying it for a minute.   The King was up to something, but he wasn’t going to be told what. 
There is only one way to find out,
he thought.

             
“I will do it,” he told his king.  “I swear that I will allow no harm to come to her.”  That was the proper thing to say, and he meant every word.              

“Excellent!  I know you will do just fine.  Now go and enjoy the rest of the evening.  Oh, one last thing.  Don’t mention it to my daughters yet,” he said, and then walked happily away into the crowd.

              Putting it out of his mind for the moment, Coran mingled with the rest of the guests.  The biggest topic of conversation was word of unrest to the east where lay the lands of the Eastern Karands.  Their cousins, the Western Karands occupied the continent to the south, along with the Empire of Ithan.  Eastern and Western Karands hated each other more than anyone else.  It had something to do with their beliefs.  As the saying went ‘only a Karand could truly understand.’

             
Thanks to Soros, who founded the Alliance after the last Great War, they had little to fear from the Eastern Karands by themselves.  They had tried to attack Midia before and were always repulsed with ease.  It might have been different if the Midians were not united as they were.

             
The reason it was such an important topic was because of the rumors of strangers seen in Daes Shael, the continent where the Eastern Karands lived.  Those rumors brought forth worries over another Great War.  If the people had returned from across the Eastern Sea then it would be time to worry.  The stories of the destruction wrought in the last war were not forgotten.  All one had to do to see the proof was travel to the ruins of Mon Vusaar. 

             
Coran found himself talking to a couple from the south of Stockton, Lord Orrick Harthorn and his wife, Lavonda.  Both had brown hair and wore dark red clothes with gold down the buttons of his coat and across the bodice of her dress.  They must have been in their late thirties or so.

             
“I heard that you had an altercation with Torvilin,” Orrick was saying.  “I would like to see him knocked down a time or two.”              

“You must watch out for that one,” Lavonda put in, looking around quickly.  “Our son, Stanley was the one he ran through the leg.”

              “I did not know that,” Coran said, “I am sorry.”

             
Orrick waved it away.  “Stanley is walking again already.”

             
They were interrupted as another woman with her hair arranged atop her head stepped in to speak with Lavonda.  Coran took the opportunity to escape the couple.  He was engaged by Jocelyn again and by a few others as he worked his way to the far side of the hall.

             
Coran, finally tired of the pointless debate that was the center of conversation, walked out a set of double doors that led to a wide, circular balcony for some fresh air. 

             
The stars were clearly visible on the black backdrop of night.  The moonlight bathed everything in its softly glowing light.  He was not alone, the two sisters stood together by the marble railing.  The older one motioned for him to come over and join them.             

             
“My sister here needed a break.  She was wearing out her new shoes on the dance floor,” Margery commented.

             
“I was having fun,” Katelyn argued.  Her face was flushed from the exercise.  “Besides, it would be rude not to dance with someone when they ask.”

             
“Maybe so, but you do not have to dance with everyone.  There will be opportunities for dancing in Westland you know.  They will be holding their spring festival while you are there.”

             
“I know,” Katelyn replied, then looked at Coran.  “I did not get a chance to thank you before Father shooed us away.  No one else would have stood up to Torvilin that way.”

             
“Yes.  You have made a dangerous enemy tonight,” Margery cautioned.  “I think I warned you just today about letting your temper get the better of you.  Torvilin will not forget this, so you will have to be watchful.”              

“You do not think he would stoop to murder?” a concerned sounding Katelyn asked.

              “With Torvilin, I think the worst should be assumed.  He is the type who will do anything to get what he wants,” the older sister stated. 

Coran listened to their worried conversation before speaking.  “I am not worried about Torvilin,” he said confidently. 

              “You should be,” Margery shot back.

             
“I think we should talk about something else instead.  This is a celebration after all,” he told them.

             
“Then tell me what Father talked to you about?” Katelyn asked.

             
“Yes,” Margery added.  “Why didn’t he want us to hear what he said?”

             
He couldn’t tell them the truth.  Stemis had asked him not to.  He tried to think quickly and come up with a suitable reply.  “He just wanted to let me know that he was not angry with me over the incident with Torvilin.”

             
“Why would he not want us to hear that?”  questioned Margery. 

             
Coran thought about shrugging and letting them think he didn’t know why, but he did not feel right about lying to them even a little bit.  “Actually, he told me not to tell you,” he informed them sounding apologetic. 

             
They exchanged a brief glance, then Katelyn stepped towards the opening that led inside.  “In that case,” her head turned to face him, “you have yet to ask me for a dance.”

             
He walked up beside her and held out his arm for her to take hold.  “Then I should probably remedy that.”  He led her back inside as the musicians resumed their playing.

Chapter 5

A New Sword

             
Stemis took a drink of the spiced wine to take the edge off the pounding head he got from last night’s reveling.  He was glad he hadn’t celebrated any more. He was getting too old for that sort of thing; it was better left to the younger generation.  He sighed as he remembered the adventures of his youth.  Thinking back to his sojourn among the southern Karands he wondered how he could ever have been so reckless.  Of course, that was when his friendship with the other man in the room had become solid, a special thing to last a lifetime.

             
His desk was empty except for a report on the projected expenses for the rest of the season.  That was not the topic of the morning, however. 

             
“Your contacts can get no more information?” Oran questioned closely, “Not even that merchant fellow?”

             
“No.  Whatever is happening is too far east. Western Karands have never been very welcome there.  Now they have been restricted from the cities in eastern Daes Shael all together,” Stemis said in disgust.  If only Karands weren’t so suspicious of each other he wouldn’t have to suggest what he knew he had to do.  “We need to send someone reliable.  I was thinking of talking to Martin.”  He waited for the expected response.

             
Oran looked incredulous.  “You want to send a Midian into Daes Shael as a spy?  That would be suicide.”

             
“I know.”  And he did.  “What else can I do?”

             
“Use whatever resources you can, but do not send someone in just to die.”

             
Stemis thought on his friend’s words.  He trusted Oran completely, that was why he had him as his advisor.  “I will see what else we can do first, but I need to do something.  Maybe if we send someone to look around, not too sneaky, just test the air and see how they feel towards the West right now.  That might give us something.  If their conflict is internal they might not be hostile towards us at all.”

             
“All right, I can accept that,” Oran conceded, “as long as he isn’t there to spy.”  Oran’s expression changed now that that business was done.   “What are you up to Stemis?”

             
“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

             
Oran’s eyes narrowed.  “My son?  Not that I do not approve, but why did you ask him to go?”

             
“That,” the King nodded.  He wondered when it would get around to this.  He had been waiting for it since telling his friend before the night had ended.  “Who else would I trust with my daughter’s life than your son?”

             
“The truth,” Oran stated.  “I know you better than that.”

             
“Coran is available is he not?  And I happen to believe that Katelyn looks on him with some favor.”

             
“So you send them off together and see what happens?” Oran finished for him.  He waited for the King’s nod.  “Why didn’t you say so?”

             
Stemis shrugged.  “I just thought of it last night.”

             
“I wish you would have told me,” Oran said.  “I am not sure that Coran feels the same way.  I know that he likes her a great deal, but I do not know if he likes her in that way.”

             
Stemis put a hand to his head and took another swallow of the wine.  “But you are not sure that he is not interested?”

             
“No.”

             
“Then we shall wait and see.”

             
A knock at the door cut off any further discussion. “Come!” Stemis called.                

The door opened slightly and a guard’s head appeared.  “Prince Torvilin is here to see you, your Majesty.”

              “He still came after what happened last night?” Oran asked in disbelief.

             
“I did say I would see him,” he said, then turned to the door.  “Send him in.”

             
Torvilin sauntered into the room.  His dark purple shirt and black pants were immaculate.  They matched the man’s dark hair and oiled mustache.  “Thank you for seeing me,” he said simply, taking a chair facing the desk.  “Let’s get to it.  You know why I am here.  You should also know that my father supports my claim to a betrothal between Katelyn and myself.”

             
Getting to the point suited Stemis just fine.  The last thing he wanted to do this morning was to try and bandy words with this young lout.  “That may be, but Katelyn is only sixteen and nothing has been decided concerning young Robert.”

             
“That is true, but Margery will be eighteen soon, and as the heir to the High Throne, you will have to decide for her by then.  At that point you will be free to make arrangements for Katelyn,” Torvilin stated smoothly.  “With the East unstable, and a potential threat, this is not the time to be putting a strain on the Alliance.”  He emphasized the word ‘strain,’ and a self-pleasing smile came to his thin lips.

             
Stemis didn’t like the fellow’s tone.  “Are you threatening me?  Because I do not respond well to threats.”  He felt the heat of last night returning.

             
Torvilin looked a little less certain of himself.  “I assure you that Voltia is loyal to Summerhall.  I just did not want any misunderstandings.”

             
“Trust me.  I understand perfectly.”  The King looked at the prince with narrowed eyes.  “That will be all.”              

Torvilin was taken aback by the sudden dismissal, but once again he showed his ability to recover quickly.  He stood and bowed stiffly.  “Is there anything else before I leave you?”

              “As a matter of fact there is.  You will leave Summerhall today.”  Stemis smiled wickedly.  He definitely enjoyed that.

             
The Voltian stumbled at that.  Not trusting himself to speak he turned brusquely and left.

             
“At least it was short,” Oran said wryly.

             
“It was about what I expected,” Stemis put in absently.  His thoughts were on a young man whom he hoped would live up to his expectations.  Summerhall would need strong men in the years to come.  The daughter who succeeded him would need someone strong to help her.

              Their horse’s muscles rippled as they raced across the rolling green hills, matching each other stride for stride.  The wind of their passage tugged at their clothes and caused her black hair to stream out behind her.  It appeared to be a part of the wind as dark strands hung suspended then danced like waves in the air.  They ran for miles under the azure sky until they reached a bubbling brook under spreading oaks in the hills on the west side of the Greenriver.  Coran reined in his lathered horse and Katelyn followed suit. 

             
He had asked both of Stemis’ daughters if they would like to go riding, but after exchanging a brief glance, Margery had declined.  Even Devon was conveniently busy someplace else.  He was a little confused by the way things had changed.  Before he had left for Tyelin, Margery had always done things with him.  Now at times she would tell him she had other things that she had to do.  It wasn’t like she didn’t want to be around him, because when they were together she was fine.  He was beginning to wonder if it was on purpose.  The times she was busy was when they left him alone with Katelyn.  No, he decided, it must just be his imagination.              

             
Dismounting he gathered up both horses’ reins and led them to the clean looking water to drink.  He patted his black’s neck as he watched Katelyn over the saddle.  She strolled under the shade offered by a strand of trees and pushed a stray lock of hair behind one ear.  She wore a plain white shirt and brown leather pants for riding.  Coran pulled the horses back from the brook so they wouldn’t drink too much and left them to munch on some grass covering the hill.  He pulled the cloth wrapped bundle from where it was secured behind his saddle and went to join her.

             
“I finally get to see it?” she asked, looking at the bundle with interest.  He held it out to her.  “You know you are a day late?”  She took it carefully.

             
“I know,” he admitted.  “I had it made for you.”  He felt nervous about whether she would still appreciate it.  He knew the old Katelyn would have.  “I hope you like it.”  This had been the reason he had suggested coming out today.

              She pulled back the folds of cloth and gasped.  Inside was a sword in a sheath of black leather.  It was about as long as a short sword and slimmer.  The hilt was what made her gasp.  The crosspiece was of silver and the handle was black like Coran’s, in the tradition of Tyelin.  The pommel was worked as a sun, golden rays reaching across the dark handle towards a single rose etched into it.  The sun stood for her house and the rose was her personal sigil.  She drew the blade, setting the cloth and sheath on the ground, and tested the weight.  She set herself in the proper stance, sideways with feet spread wide.  Her hand was high and the point of the blade held low.  She moved through forms Coran recognized from his own training.

             
“I can’t believe it,” she exclaimed with delight.  “It is absolutely perfect.  I have always wanted my own sword.  Father wouldn’t let me keep one.  He said letting me learn was bad enough.”  She stopped talking and stared at Coran.  “I was so excited I forgot to thank you.”              

             
“Don’t.  It is enough to see you happy.”  She smiled and he noticed how deep her eyes were, how easy it would be to lose himself in those dark blue pools.  In there he saw the uncertain girl that was still a part of her and the willful woman she tried to be.  He forced himself to look away before he was lost.  He was embarrassed to be gazing at her so openly, and hoped that she hadn’t noticed.

             
“Spar with me,” she said as if nothing had happened.  “I want to try this out.”

             
He drew his own, larger sword in relief; relief that she hadn’t noticed, and relief that she seemed to like the present.  They started out slow to test each other and to let her familiarize herself with the new weapon.  When she was ready the attacks came faster, but still tightly controlled.  She pressed him harder and he realized that she had to still be training because she was really good.  Her blows were not hard, but her wrist was quick.  Laughing she stepped back to signify an end to the session.  She picked up the cloth and sheath, then returned her sword to its leather cover.  Coran also put away his blade.

             
“No one else would ever consider giving me a sword,” she told him happily.  She stepped closer and when she spoke her tone was sincere.  “Thank you so much.”  Then she startled him by giving him a peck on the cheek.  She laughed when his eyes went wide. 

             
They sat down in the shade to rest after the workout and to enjoy the beautiful spring day.  Coran noticed two butterflies darting about some bushes with dark green, tear shaped leaves.  One of the fluttering creatures was yellow and the other white with some spots of another, darker color.  He wondered about the butterfly.  How it started out a caterpillar, then went through a transformation inside a cocoon.  When it emerged it was able to fly away.

             
People were similar in a way.  They did as they were told as youngsters under some restrictions, but still had a certain freedom of time and movement to play.  As they got older, their lives became even more restrictive with lessons and training on what was needed to survive the world.  Time was limited during those years and their freedom of movement as well.  Not unlike a cocoon.  Then they were finally adults and allowed to spread their wings, flying off in every direction.

             
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him.

             
“I saw those butterflies over there.”  He pointed towards the bush. “I was just thinking how alike we are.”

             
“You think of yourself as a butterfly?” she questioned incredulously.

             
“No.”  He shook his head and almost laughed at how it must have sounded.  “I was thinking how we have come out of our own cocoons and are now faced with choosing what to do next with our lives.”

             
“Such deep thoughts,” she stated seriously.  “But what makes you think we have the ability to choose, even now?  Duties and responsibilities do not go away just because we change in some way.  Even the butterfly has a responsibility to its species to find food and reproduce, just as people do.”

             
“True,” he agreed, and she had said that he had deep thoughts.

             
“Take me for example,” she continued.  “I will have little choice in who I am to marry.  It will be a political alliance.”