The Blind King (13 page)

A
fter a tearful
farewell to her own children, Ryshel was ready to set out for Na’zora. Efren
managed to hire a small ship to carry her in safety around the coastline. There
was no safe passage by land, as Na’zoran troops currently occupied nearly all
of the outlying villages. Ryshel would go on horseback to the coast,
accompanied by two members of the royal guard. A merchant ship would be waiting
there to greet her.

“There is nothing I
can say to dissuade you?” Efren asked as Ryshel prepared to leave.

“I have to do
this,” she replied. Putting on a smile, she added, “I’ll be back with little
Rayne before you know it.” She had said the exact same words to her own
children, and they had stuck in her throat then too. Leaving her family behind
was agony, but she could see no other choice.

Reaching into her pocket, Ryshel pulled out a
small bit of parchment. “Give this note to Shala, your sister’s servant. She
will know how to get the message through to Na’zora.”

Efren took the paper and handed it to his
manservant. Taking Ryshel in his arms, he squeezed her tightly, wishing he did
not have to let go. “I love you,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “There
is nothing else left to say.”

Tears rolled silently down Ryshel’s cheeks as she
kissed her husband one last time. Without saying another word, she mounted her
horse and urged it forward. It was half a day’s ride to the coast, and she
wanted to reach it quickly. Her guards rode on either side to offer her the
greatest amount of protection.

Efren stood with the appearance of strength as he
listened to the horses move farther into the distance. He felt as if he were
losing control, if he ever had control in the first place. His kingdom was
rapidly declining, and his wife was heading into the eye of the storm. There
was nothing he could do now except wait for her return.

Ryshel pushed the thoughts of her children and
home away from her mind. If she was to succeed, she would have to be fully
dedicated. She would not give in to despair and melancholy as Aubriana had.
Ryshel was a strong woman, and she would need all her strength in the days to
come.

For hours they rode without halting, until finally
they arrived at the coast. A small ship was indeed anchored, awaiting the
queen’s arrival. The captain, however, did not know her true identity. He was
told a noblewoman needed safe passage to Na’zora. The fewer people who knew the
truth, the better.

“Good evening,” she said to one of the sailors. “I
am Rya, and I’ll be traveling with you.”

The sailor nodded and asked, “Where’s your
baggage?”

“I won’t be needing any,” she replied. “Everything
I require is waiting for me there.”

With a shrug, the sailor led her on board the
ship. There were few luxuries to be found. The deck was piled high with crates,
and there were only a handful of crewmen aboard.

Leading her below deck, he showed her to a tiny
cabin with four cots. “This will be your room,” the man said.

Ryshel nodded and hoped she would be the only
person to occupy it. Though there were four places to sleep, there was barely
enough room to turn around. The presence of three other people would make her
feel as if she were suffocating.

The sailor walked away, leaving her in silence.
Instead of going to bed, she headed back up to have a look at the stars. The
crew was busy shoving off, but she ignored the noise as they called out to one
another. Finding a comfortable spot to recline, she gazed up at the night sky.
There were no clouds to be seen—only millions of stars and a bright, bluish
moon. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply as the motion of the ship rocked
her to sleep. At sunrise she awoke, surprised to find herself still on deck.

“Was your bed not comfortable, Miss?” the ship’s
captain asked.

“I’m sure it’s just fine,” she replied.

Though Ryshel had never traveled by sea, she found
herself feeling quite at home aboard the small vessel. For days she walked the
decks, learning about the immense amount of work that went into sailing. The
crew proved to be friendly, and the food was not bad either. The men kept her
entertained with stories and song, but when she was alone, thoughts of her
family crept back into her mind.

At last the coast of Na’zora came into view, and
Ryshel felt her anxiety rise. Waving from the docks was a tall, plain-faced
woman, her hair pulled back tightly in a bun. Lady Bartin had received her
message.

“Welcome to Na’zora, Lady Rya,” she said as Ryshel
approached.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she replied.

“I am Lady Bartin, friend of Princess Aubriana. I
received your letter and am most eager to help.”

Ryshel smiled in relief. This was the woman who
had kept Aubriana informed of Rayne’s well-being. “Can you help me get a position
in the palace?”

“I can,” Lady Bartin replied confidently. “First
we’ll need to get you some more suitable attire.”

Ryshel nodded and climbed inside the waiting
carriage. “Who else knows of my arrival?”

“No one,” Lady Bartin replied. “I have kept this
secret to myself. My husband believes you are a cousin of mine who lives near
our southern border. I’ve made it a point over the past few days to complain
about the care Rayne has been receiving. My husband is one of Rayne’s appointed
guardians, you see.”

“That is good to hear,” Ryshel said. “That means
you might be in need of a new governess for him soon.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said. “My husband cares little
for the rearing of children. I have seven of my own, so he listens to my advice
most carefully.” She laid a hand on Ryshel’s arm and said, “Rayne misses his
mother so. Tell me how she is faring.”

Looking down at the floor of the carriage, Ryshel
replied, “Aubriana is not well. Her heart is broken, and she suffers greatly.
That is why I’ve come.”

Lady Bartin sighed. “I feared she would not have
the strength for this. We must get you and Rayne back to her as quickly as
possible.”

That was exactly what Ryshel had in mind. The
longer she remained in Na’zora, the greater her chance of making a mistake and
being discovered. As soon as an opportunity presented itself, no matter how
small, she would attempt to leave with the young prince. Both their lives might
depend on it.

A
s the sun first
peeked over the horizon, Efren awoke to an empty bed. Ryshel was not in his
arms, and her warmth was nowhere to be found.
How many days has it been? Is
she safe?
Though he was constantly surrounded by servants and advisors, he
could not shake the feeling of loneliness his wife’s absence had created. Since
their marriage, they had never been apart for more than a few hours. He trusted
her advice above all others, and he yearned to have her at his side once more.

As he rose from his
bed, servants immediately flocked to his side. A bowl of water was held in front
of him, allowing him to wash his face. His clothes had been laid out hours ago,
and the servants eagerly dressed him for his morning council meeting. But Efren
had no desire to meet with his councilors. Each day they presented him with
more bad news, and he simply did not wish to hear it.

It is my duty,
he decided with a sigh. How he longed for the days
spent in the countryside, when war had yet to consume his kingdom. Gannon had
been a strong leader. He had a passion for war that Efren lacked
. In times
when war cannot be avoided, perhaps it is better to have a soldier for a king,
he
thought.
If only Gannon were here. Even my father would be a better choice
than me.

A servant presented
the king with a silver tray, which contained an assortment of breakfast items. Efren
waved the servant away. He had no appetite this morning. Followed by his
manservant, he walked slowly through the corridor to the council chambers, his
footsteps making little sound against the stone floor. His anxiety rose as he
approached the door, but he steadied his breathing to hide it. He must stay
strong, though given a choice, he would join Aubriana in her melancholy.

Without speaking,
Efren entered the council chamber and took his seat at the head of the table.
He waited patiently for someone to commence conversation.

“Your Majesty,” Duke Arden said, “it pains me to
report that Na’zora has now taken the entirety of central Ra’jhou. What is left
of our army is now scattered and leaderless. Scouts have reported seeing mages who
conjure fire in the northern regions. They are headed our way.”

“There is still no
word from Pedr or any of the other dwarves?” Efren asked, sitting tall in his seat.
What has become of him?

“None, Majesty,” Arden
replied. “Whatever their mission was, it seems they have yet to accomplish it.”

“Let us hope they
do so before there is no Ra’jhou left to assist.” Though he did not show it,
Efren was worried the mission had failed. It was possible Pedr had been
unsuccessful in persuading the dwarf king, or that he had changed his mind
entirely. There was also the possibility that his king had him executed. After
all, Efren had sent him back to the person who had banished him. Was he to be another
death added to his conscience?

“Majesty,” General
Willem began, “there are rumors that our missing soldiers have indeed gone into
the mountains. Some of the evacuated citizens have knowledge of it.”

“I am told many of
our smaller forces are fleeing from magefire,” Arden added. “They know not how
to combat them, so they flee.” Looking at Willem, he said, “Not our more
experienced forces, of course.”

“They are safer
among the mountains than they would be here,” Efren commented.

“Send out riders,
Your Majesty,” Willem suggested, ignoring the king’s comment. “Your men are loyal
and willing to fight. They are scattered, but they have not deserted. They will
return if we can locate them.”

“Sir, if scouts are
reporting that the Na’zoran army is moving this way, then we must make final
preparations for a siege,” Councilman Faril said. His eyes met the duke’s, and
he quickly looked away.

Efren leaned his
head on his hand as he weighed his options. “We cannot send out riders. They
could be lost as well, and we need every man here who can fight when the castle
is attacked. Once Na’zora has breached our walls, someone will have to defend
the people.”

“With all due
respect, Your Majesty,” Willem began, “we are waiting for an execution. Without
the rest of our army, we have almost no protection.”

“We have this
castle. It is our fortress,” the king reminded him.

“Yes, and once
their mages burn it to the ground what shall we have?”

“Fire cannot burn
stone,” Efren replied. “The walls will hold.” After a moment, he added, “They
have to.”

Arden sighed. Though
the king was unwilling to try, the duke was still in favor of collecting the
missing soldiers. “There may be time to retrieve some of the soldiers before
Na’zora reaches us. Perhaps they are gathering in strength and waiting for us
to lead them home. I am in favor of sending out riders.”

“If they are alive,
they should find their way back here on their own,” the king said. He would
hear no more talk of seeking them out. If they were in the mountains, perhaps
they would cut off the Na’zoran troops as they marched on the castle. It would
certainly be beneficial to have a group on the outside, as long as Na’zora was
unaware of them.

“What preparations
remain for the siege?” Arden asked, changing the subject. “The Na’zorans could
be here within the month, and there are so many mouths to feed that I cannot
say how long we will last.” The duke had been incredibly busy overseeing the
training of the volunteer soldiers, as well as observing every movement of the
traitorous councilors. Luckily, he had employed several young servants who were
eager to keep a close eye on the men. All reports had been positive. It seemed
the councilors had no further interest in their plot.

“The dwarves are
still working on constructing defensive machines. Though some of them are
working with wood, which isn’t the same as working with stone. I have no idea
how well crafted these machines might be, but I suppose they are better than
nothing.” Willem shook his head, displeased with the castle’s lack of defenses.
If the king thought walls were all the protection he would need, he was sadly
mistaken.

“Food stores are in
good supply,” Faril reported. Since Ryshel’s departure, he had taken over many
of her duties among the people at Arden’s insistence. With the duke watching
his every move, he had been forced to abandon his plan to supplant the king.

“My scouts will
continue to monitor Na’zora’s progress,” Willem stated. “It won’t be long now.
I’m certain of it.”

“Let them come,”
Efren replied. “They can have my throne instead of the lives of my people if it
comes down to that. A throne is nothing to me compared with the well-being of
Ra’jhou’s citizens.”

Arden admired
Efren’s resolve. He wished he had been privy to the deal Efren had made with the
dwarves. It would put his mind at ease if he knew help was on the way.
Unfortunately, the king had offered up no information on the subject for fear
of a second betrayal.

P
edr paced impatiently outside the massive
stone palace. He and his companions had been waiting hours for the king to
decide whether he would meet with them. Finally, a guard came to collect them.

“The king has agreed to give you a few moments of
his time,” the guard said, motioning the men to follow him.

Inside the palace was a vast, open space. The
walls and floor were carved into the cobalt blue stone of the mountain. Large
cauldrons lit the way as they pressed on toward the throne room, a journey of
nearly a mile. As they reached the door, the guard held up his hand to stop
them.

“Pedr is permitted inside. The others must wait
here,” he said.

The three men exchanged concerned glances. This
could only mean trouble. Taking off his backpack, Pedr handed it to Geryl.

“We’ll be right here when you’ve finished,” Geryl said,
taking the bag.

Pedr nodded and headed through the massive stone
doors of the throne room. Inside, the king perched himself high upon an
ornately chiseled throne. His queen sat next to him, her throne only slightly
lower than the king’s. A wide stone ramp led up to them, lined on each side by
guards dressed in the finest plate armor. Pedr resisted the urge to roll his
eyes. King Oge was obviously enjoying his newfound power and the luxury that
came with it.

“I didn’t think to see you again,” the king said.
He sat proudly upon his throne, dressed in his finest satin tunic. Each finger
bore a jeweled ring, giving his hands a heavy appearance.

Reaching the king, Pedr bowed low before him. “It
is an honor, Your Majesty.”

“You were banished from this land,” Queen Zella
reminded him. “You are lucky we didn’t have you killed on sight.” Her golden
gown nearly swallowed her in its excess of fabric. She wore too much makeup in
an effort to appear younger next to her youthful husband, but it gave her skin
a thickened appearance instead.

“What urgent business have you brought? Your
message mentioned a vast reward?” The king’s voice sounded bored but not angry.

“Forgive me for disobeying the order of
banishment,” Pedr said. “I had no intention of returning to insult your
majesties, but I have been offered a proposition from the King of Ra’jhou. He
is interested in friendship with our people.”

“Our people—” the queen started to say. King Oge
held up his hand to silence her.

“Explain quickly,” the king said. He had only so
much patience, and his wife’s objections to Pedr’s visit had already used up
most of it.

“The kingdom of Ra’jhou has a rather lucrative
mine sitting unused near its northern border. I, along with my kinsmen, have
begun construction of a settlement there. Unfortunately, the kingdom is at war,
and its future is uncertain.”

“Let me guess,” the king said. “You have come to
ask for my help in holding this mine, even if Ra’jhou loses their war. Who is
it they are fighting?”

“The kingdom of Na’zora lies south of Ra’jhou.
They have skilled mages who are taking over each village and market district.
At this very moment, they are marching on Ra’jhou’s castle, if they haven’t
reached it already.”

“What does any of this have to do with us?” the
queen asked.

“King Efren of Ra’jhou is willing to pay you a
stipend from the mine’s profits for your assistance.”

King Oge laughed. “This king finds himself without
allies and too weak to fight. He thinks I’ll come to his aid.” The king shook
his head and laughed again. “A few pieces of ore are not worth my involvement
in a war. What’s to stop Na’zora and its mages from marching here?”

“The mine—” Pedr began, but was interrupted by the
king.

“Don’t think I don’t see what this is about. You
want to control this mine and become wealthy off it. You will have full
control, while I sit here waiting for you to send me my fair share.”

Pedr had expected this sort of reaction from Oge.
He was a young king, still figuring out how he wanted to rule. These words were
merely his way of feeling he had the power here, not Pedr. It was time to
reveal the information he was withholding. “Your Majesty, this is a silver
mine.”

King Oge’s eyebrows went up as he leaned forward
to look at Pedr. “I’m listening,” he said.

“You know well that the magical properties of
silver are highly prized among our people, as well as among the elves of the
isles.” Pedr smiled, knowing he had the king’s full attention. “You also know
that those elves would never have anything to do with a common dwarf such as
myself. But a king, they would speak with. A king they will consider worthy of
their time. You can arrange a trade that will bring you profits beyond all
imagining. I will be nothing more than a humble worker.”

King Oge beamed, nearly salivating at the prospect
of trade with the elves. Enlightened Elves had ceased dealings with the dwarves
on all matters, preferring to deal with humans, who they considered slightly
more tolerable. A wealth of silver, with its immense magical properties, would
bring them crawling back. The elves had no current supplier of the precious
metal, and they had no skill in crafting it. With dwarves added to the
equation, and a human king who was most willing to share, there could be no
finer deal for the dwarves. All it would require were soldiers, which Oge had
in abundance.

“Why doesn’t this Ra’jhouan king just sell the
silver to the elves outright and cut you out of the equation entirely? What
does he need with us?” The queen spoke with contempt, not hiding her dislike
for Pedr.

“King Efren needs an ally who is closer to home,”
Pedr explained. “His men have no idea how to craft the silver to unlock its
magical potential, so he needs us dwarves to do that for him.” Pedr felt
confident he had explained things well enough. How could the king refuse such
an offer?

Queen Zella laughed. “Don’t you see?” she asked
the king. “This is a trick. This king wants your army to save his land, and
after you’ve done your part, he and Pedr will have all the profits. They don’t
need us at all for this deal with the elves. The elves would rather deal with a
human king than a dwarf. We won’t be needed once we’ve delivered the troops.”

King Oge nodded, narrowing his eyes. To Pedr, he
said, “I have no reason to trust this king. This idea of yours has merit, but
how do I know I’ll get a cut of the profits?”

“You would be the one negotiating with the elves,”
Pedr replied. “King Efren would leave everything to you.”

Oge shook his head in disbelief. “He wants my army
now, and then he expects me to do the negotiating with the elves later. I have
no assurance here.”

“Your Majesty, I can promise you that King Efren
is a man of his word. Why do you dismiss him so readily?” Pedr could not
understand why Oge was not eager to take this opportunity. He had plenty of
soldiers to spare, and the dwarf-crafted silver would make him the richest king
in all N
ō
l’Deron.

“The fact of the matter is that this king is a
blind man who has fought no battles. He hasn’t proved himself worthy of my
aid.” Oge sat back in his seat, his head leaning heavily on his hand.

Pedr reached into his pocket and pulled out a
folded piece of parchment. It was time to reveal his final bargaining chip. “I
hold in my hand something that will increase the strength of our army, the likes
of which have never been seen.”

Oge seemed perplexed. “Why has this king not used
this for his own army?”

“He does not have the forges nor the proper
resources,” Pedr explained. “I have brought something from Ra’jhou’s mines
that, when compounded with an item from our mines, will grant us a weapon like
no other. This paper explains the process in the king’s own hand.”

Oge’s eyes gleamed with delight. He was most
interested in this new weapon. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

Pedr handed the paper to the king. Oge was a sly
man, and not one to be trusted too readily. He had betrayed his own king in
order to take his place, and a man such as that would betray anyone to get what
he wanted. Pedr would not hand over the missing ingredient, nor the second sheet
of parchment, until he had an army ready to march. If Oge was planning to
double-cross him, he would never succeed.