Sword of Light (29 page)

Lost in her thoughts, she did not realize that her door had opened until she saw Rolas striding into her room, a tankard in his hand.

“How dare you?!”  She hissed at him, pulling her robe tight.  “You cannot just come into my chambers uninvited.  Leave or I will have you taken away in irons.”

“Is that anyway to treat your future husband?”  Rolas, eyes slightly bloodshot, asked with a smile on his lips, unconcerned.

““You will leave now or I will inform my father about your boorish behavior.”  She said, trying to recover her calm.  He stood there watching her, and then took a slow and deliberate drink from his tankard.

“You will regret disobeying me.”  She said flatly, drawing herself up.  She raised her voice.  “Guards!!”

Despite her cry, Rolas simply stood there with that evil grin on his face.  After a few moments, when the guards did not show up, he laughed.  “It appears that there is no one coming to your rescue.”

He came over to her, reaching out to touch her face.  She jerked her head back, but he reached out and grabbed her neck.  He squeezed tightly and pulled her close.  She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You belong to me now.”  He snarled quietly, smile gone, eyes flat with anger.  “You had better learn to guard your tongue.  You will soon take an oath to obey me and I will hold you to that oath.  Once we are married, your only duty will be to produce an heir.”  His smile came back, cruel and cold, though humor did not touch his eyes  “I prefer my women a little rougher around the edges, but we are stuck with each other.  You had better make peace with that.”

Before Keria could do anything, a woman’s voice came from the doorway.  “Rolas, release her.”

Grimacing, he shoved Keria back, letting
go of her throat.  She stumbled backwards, but was able to catch her balance.  As she lightly rubbed were he had grabbed her, she looked over to see Lady Arelia and Captain Justian standing in the doorway.

“Justian, escort Rolas back to our quarters.”  She said, looking coldly at her son.  “If he were to happen to stumble into the wall several times along the way, I would hope that would convince him to give up drinking.”

Grumbling under his breath, Rolas turned and left, with Justian right behind him.  Lady Arelia came into the room and sat down in one of the chairs set near the wall.  She motioned Keria to join her.  After a moment’s hesitation, Keria came over and sat down.

“If you wish to find some happiness in marriage, my dear, you will need to learn to identify and manage Rolas’ moods.”  Arelia stated.  “Try not to antagonize him.”

“I do not plan to marry him.”  Keria said sharply.  “After my father learns of this, your son will be lucky to keep his head.”

“That is exactly the wrong thing to do, Highness.”  Arelia stated firmly.  “The king and my husband have agreed on this union.  You would not wish to see a schism develop between them, do you?  That could lead to unfortunate consequences.”

“I will be Queen someday, so I will not tolerate such a man to sit beside me.”  Keria retorted.  She took a calming breath, softening her voice.  “Lady Arelia, if you truly want to see our families united, convince your husband to agree to a marriage with Marcus.  He and I are a much better match.  We love each other.”

“While I wish my son the best, that will not happen.  Rolas is the first-born and Marcelas’ heir.”  Arelia said, studying Keria.  “If you wish to be a good queen, you must put the best interests of the realm before your own interests.  Starting a conflict with the richest noble house would not be in anyone’s best interest.”

“I would rather die than marry such a man.”  Keria stated.

“I have heard many women say that.”  Arelia said, rising.  She looked down at Keria, eyes now cold.  “Noblewomen such as ourselves must find a way to endure what fate deals us.  Not everyone gets to have the man of her dreams.  You should think on that, Princess, as well as how to make peace with Rolas.  You will be marrying him, whether you like it or not.”  With that, she made to leave.

At the door, she turned back.  “I should warn you.  Your father has replaced the Royal Guard in the palace with my husband’s men.  Do not try anything foolish, child.  There will be no one to help you if you do.”

Keria stared in disbelief as the door shut behind Arelia, suddenly shuddering.  The sound of the doors closing reminded her of the cell in Creatos’ fortress.  She knew that she was a captive again.

…

As Marcus walked next to Norlan, heading into the Temple, passing the apprentice clerics igniting the torches in the garden to provide light against the darkening sky, the calming benefit of working at the smithy had faded.  His mind was turning, desperately trying to figure out what was happening and why.

He was still uncertain what to believe.  He just could not fathom what would cause his father to plot or act against the king.  That would be so out of character for him.  But, with the strange movement of his father’s men into positions that rightfully belonged to the Royal Guard, he could no longer be completely sure.

They made their way to the sanctuary, finding Jonas and Daen already there, sitting in two of the four chairs in the room.  There was a pitcher of wine and four glasses, sitting on a small table near the chairs.  Marcus went over and poured the wine into the glasses, handing one to each man, then sat down in the remaining chair.

“I am still not convinced that my father is behind what is going on.”  Marcus said.  “I agree that something odd is happening, but the orders that are being carried out are from the king.  Could his apparent illness be affecting his judgment?”

“Maybe.”  Jonas said, stroking his beard.  “There are some illnesses that impair judgment or cause the person to be open to suggestion.  But, until I can examine him, we cannot know for sure.  I tried to send another cleric to the palace this afternoon, thinking that it might just be me that is barred, but she was turned away as well.”

“Without wanting to cause Marcus any offence, but perhaps the king and his father have been compromised in some way, maybe something happened that leaves them open to coercion by others?”  Norlan suggested.  “They do seem to be working together.”

“No offence is taken, Norlan.”  Marcus said.  “I doubt it, though.  I have never heard even a whisper of my father doing anything that would be considered dishonorable.”

“Can we somehow get the army involved?”  Daen asked.  “I think that if the soldiers began to question what was happening, we would get some answers.  Lord Marcelas does not have enough men to stand against them.”

“I agree that would get their attention, Daen, but how would we make that happen?”  Marcus responded.  “If it were found out that we were trying to turn the army, then the king would simply order them to arrest us.  I can’t see them turning against the king on only our word.”  He looked at Jonas.  “The only way it could work is if the clerics helped convince them.”

Jonas shook his head.  “I can’t tell the clerics to do that on only a vague suspicion.  It would violate the Agreement, which in turn would mean that the king was no longer bound by it.  That would make the Temple vulnerable.  I will not risk it unless and until I know more.”

“What can we do then?”  Norlan asked.

“I think that we need to determine what has befallen Silvan and Nathen.”  Jonas said.  “If we can solve that, it may give us better insight on the true purpose behind all that has happened.”

“Where would we start?”  Marcus asked.  “We cannot get into the palace and we would draw attention if we tried to go into the dungeons.”

“Maybe I can get in.”  Daen stated.  “I believe that I can get Commander Helgrant to write an order that I need to retrieve some items from the barracks.  He is currently at the South Gate.”

“I applaud your courage, Daen, but we must be cautious.”  Jonas said.  “If the king and Marcus’ father are collaborating, as Norlan suggested, then it is possible that Helgrant has been compromised.  I believe that we must do this ourselves.”

“Instead of that, why not have Daen find some of the Guardsmen who worked in the dungeons and engage them in conversation?”  Marcus suggested.  “He would not say anything specific, but that may be a useful way to gather information without revealing our true intent.”

“I can agree to that.”  Jonas said.  He looked at Daen.  “Do you think you can be circumspect in your questions as to not draw attention?”

“I can, Brother Jonas.”  Daen said confidently.  “I can check with the remaining Guardsmen still in the city.  If I cannot find someone there, I can always ride out to the nearby army garrisons.”

“If we are agreed, then I suggest we start there.”  Jonas said.  The others nodded.  “We should meet again in two days.  Hopefully, Daen will have some information to help us plan what to do next.”

Marcus got up and walked out with Daen, while Norlan stayed to speak with Jonas.  They went around to the rear of the Temple grounds where the bushes and trees were thick, so Daen would be less likely to be seen leaving.

“Don’t take any risks, Daen.”  Marcus said quietly.  “If you think that someone is growing suspicious, leave immediately and return here.”

“I do have some common sense, Marcus.”  Daen snorted, a sudden grin on his face.  “You nobles sometimes seem to think only you have a brain.”

Marcus smiled at that.  “I think Nathen has been a bad influence on you.”  His smile faded as he held out his hand.  “Luck be with you.”

“You too, Marcus.”  Daen said, gripping Marcus’ hand.  “I’ll see you in two days.”  With a final nod, he slipped into the brush and disappeared.

Marcus slowly made his way back towards the Temple.  He stopped near a low wall, leaning against it and looking up at the sky.  High clouds obscured most of the stars, making the night seem darker.

He started thinking about Keria.  His body tensed and he felt his anger re-awaken as he considered the fact that she was supposed to marry Rolas in only eight days.  While he had not told Jonas or Norlan, he had decided that if they did not find any answers before then, he would find a way into the palace and confront his brother.  If he must, he would fight him for Keria.

He was battling his brother in his mind’s eye when a sudden rank odor assaulted his nostrils and he heard a rustling coming from behind.  He spun, drawing his sword, and confronted a shape staggering away from the bushes.

“Hold and identify yourself.”  Marcus ordered.

“Marcus, is that you?”  A familiar voice said.  “Thanks to the One.”  The figure took another step and collapsed.

“Nathen!”  Marcus cried as ran over to him, kneeling down and cradling his head, ignoring the strong offensive odor emanating from Nathen’s torn and dirty clothes.  Checking him for injuries, he saw that Nathen’s legs were bare, his boots and pants legs gone, the flesh blistered and oozing.  He was shocked that he had been able to walk on them at all.

“What happened, Nathen?”  Marcus said as he moved to pick him up and take him to Jonas.

Nathen, eyes wide, reached out and grasped Marcus’ chainmail, curling his fists into the metal.  “Demon!”

…

In the dungeons of Danelias, Martis sat in the dark cell, staring at nothing.  He could sometimes hear the far off sound of the ocean, echoing down an air vent, but not now.  Ranech was asleep near him, snoring loudly.  He stretched out his foot and gave him a sharp kick in the side.  Ranech did not wake up, but rolled over onto his side and the snoring stopped. 
At least for a little while.
  Martis thought bitterly.

He had often fallen into despair since he had been brought here.  The Aletonians who worked in the dungeons did not hide their disgust for him.  They denied him light, except when they fed him, which was always a watery and disgusting gruel and a piece of stale bread.  They deliberately spilled his chamber pot without cleaning it up, leaving him to endure the strong odor of waste.  He was forced to share the small cell with Ranech, even though there were empty cells all around.

He shuddered when he recalled the knives and other sharp instruments that the guards would bring in, sharping them while looking at him with smiles that chilled him to his core.  He knew that it was only a matter of time before they started using those items on him. 
I will tell them everything I know.
  He told himself. 
Better to go straight to the headsman than endure that for no good reason.

Down the hall, he heard the metal door that led to the cells open.  He blinked against the sudden light from the torch held by the man who came down the hall.  His countenance was concealed by the torchlight in Martis’ eyes and a deep hood.

“Are you the man called Martis?”  The man asked quietly.  Martis did not recognize the voice.

“I am.”  He replied.  “Who are you?”

“That is not important.”  The man said.  “I only have a single question for you.  If you were freed, what would you do for the person who freed you?”

Martis felt a sudden tingle of hope, conflicting with the fear that he was being led into a trap.  He debated how best to respond, but decided that he had nothing to lose.

“I would do whatever that person asked me to do.”  He stated cautiously, waiting fearfully for the jaws of the trap to snap shut.

“Correct answer, merchant.”  The man said, his smile visible in his voice.  “You and your man will be given horses and weapons.  You will receive half the gold that was hidden in your wagon.  The Demonhunter told the Queen’s Guard about it before he left and it was confiscated.”

“Then what?”  Martis asked, surprised by the offer.

“Then, you will perform the mission given to you.”  The man stated.  His voice took on a tone of menace.  “Know this, merchant.  If you fail in this mission, you will be begging for the mercy of a swift death before I am done with you.”

“I will not fail.”  Martis said quickly.

The man nodded.  “Someone will come for you shortly.  You will be given your task at that time.”  The man turned and left, plunging the cell back into darkness.

Martis could not help but smile.  He would do his best to complete whatever mission was given him.  Then again, options were always available to someone who was free, with a purse of gold and a horse.