The Blind King (14 page)

S
tepping back to
admire his work, Groot felt a sense of pride. The trebuchet had come together
nicely in less time than he had anticipated. To his surprise, he saw the king
and Duke Arden touring the grounds. He waved his hand to get their attention.
The duke noticed him and nodded. After a moment’s discussion, the pair were
headed to the top of the castle wall to meet with Groot.

Groot bowed
slightly before the king. He had little experience in matters of court and
wasn’t sure what was considered acceptable behavior. Deciding he would talk
with the king as he would any other man, he said, “I’ve built you the finest
trebuchet your kingdom has ever seen. She’s a beauty to look upon.”

Efren ran his hand
along the smooth wood of the machine. “What do we have to load into it?” he
asked. “How far is its reach?”

“I’ve had one of
your youngsters run out in the field to mark it for me. His legs were longer
than mine.” He chuckled a bit, and added, “It’s got a good reach on it, of that
you can be sure. As for what to load, well that’s in the works. Some of my men
are already gathering rocks for you to use. If all else fails, use the castle
when it starts to crumble.” He probably should have left out that last bit, but
it was too late.

“As a last resort,
that isn’t a bad idea,” Efren commented. “That’s assuming when the walls are
breached the trebuchet is still functioning.”

Arden put a hand up
to shield his eyes from the sun and looked into the distance. “I see the white
lines your assistant placed to mark the range on this contraption,” he said.
“You will be erasing that before Na’zora arrives, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Groot
replied, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t you worry. I’ll have it gone by the end of
the day. I just need the men who will be operating it to memorize the spot
first. I don’t want any shots being wasted.”

“Who will be
manning the machine?” Arden asked.

“I had a few of your
citizens volunteer,” Groot said. “One was a little girl. You’ve got some brave
lasses around here, to be sure.”

“Indeed we do,”
Efren agreed.

Groot pointed
across the wall, where several female archers stood ready. “Those ladies there
are young. I hope they can hit their targets.”

“They have been
well trained,” Arden said. “You’d be surprised.” He had overseen their training
personally and was quite pleased with what he had seen from them.

Groot offered no
argument about their abilities. “They’re certainly a brave lot to stand where
they are. They’re going to be prime targets.”

“Do you have any
ideas about protecting them?” Arden asked.

“Well, they’re
behind those walls, so at least they aren’t exposed. I’m just afraid that
Na’zora will aim hard for that section of the castle once they realize we have
archers there.”

“Could you
reinforce the wall?” Efren asked.

“I’ll do my best,”
Groot replied. “In the meantime, I’ll have my men working on special armor for
them. It won’t stop them from being crushed, but it might help if they’re hit
by smaller debris.”

Efren sighed. “The
concept of my castle flying apart disturbs me,” he said. “Why is it everyone
expects it to fall? Is protection not what a castle is designed for?”

“That’s not what I
meant, sir,” Groot said apologetically. “I’ve seen battle before, and I know
what can happen. I suppose I’m planning for the worst.”

“I suppose I’m
lucky,” the king said.

“In what way,
Majesty?” Arden asked.

“I won’t have to
look upon the faces of the dead when this is over. Whether it is because of my
lack of vision or because I am dead myself, I will be spared that horror.” His
words hung heavily in the air, with Groot and Arden exchanging glances. Neither
of them spoke.

Turning to face the
archers, Efren said, “These are the bravest among my soldiers. They are average
citizens with barely enough training, yet they have volunteered their lives to
protect the people of this land. I will not forget what they have done.” Efren
admired these men and women deeply. If only he could stand next to them in
battle, he would feel as if he’d done what he could. Instead, he was expected
to sit upon his throne and command what remained of his army. Gannon would not
have stood back and waited, but what could Efren do? He had no training in any form
of combat.

“Groot, would you
teach me how to operate this trebuchet?” Efren asked, to the surprise of both
Arden and Groot.

Groot sputtered a
moment and said, “Of course I will.”

“My manservant will
need to know as well in case I am hit. Have armor ready for us both. Nothing
fancy. Whatever the other soldiers are wearing will do nicely.”

“Majesty, I’d be
happy to operate this machine on your behalf,” Groot offered. “You’re an
important man, and you shouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

Efren shook his head.
“This is something I must do.”

“Your Majesty, you
will be needed elsewhere,” Arden protested. “You can’t risk your life up here.”

“I can and I will,”
he replied. “Even now, Ryshel is risking her life to save a child. Should I not
do the same to save my kingdom and all the souls living within it?”

Arden didn’t know
what to say. He admired the king’s bravery, but he did not agree with his
decision.

“You are my First Advisor,
and you shall take my place coordinating the army once Na’zora has arrived. The
responsibility of distributing goods throughout the siege can fall to whomever
you choose.”

“As you command,
Your Majesty,” he replied. There was no point in further argument. The king had
spoken, and the duke would obey.

“How soon can you
have a second trebuchet built?” Efren asked.

“I can have it in
about three days if I focus only on that,” the dwarf replied. “I will make it
my top priority.”

“Who, may I ask,
will be manning the second one?” Arden asked.

“Groot may have the
honor, if he so chooses,” Efren replied.

A broad smile
spread across Groot’s face. “I’d be delighted.”

W
ith help from
Lady Bartin, Ryshel was placed as governess to Prince Rayne. The pair were
introduced on her first day in residence, but the boy had not been told her
true identity. It would be far too difficult for such a young child to keep a
secret.

Ryshel was pleased
to see he had been treated well. Except for missing his mother, he was
generally happy. His life consisted mostly of play and only a few hours of
study each week. Ryshel enjoyed helping him to learn his letters and reading to
him at night. He had a bright imagination and a good heart. She longed to tell
him the truth about herself, but it was too risky. The sweet young boy probably
wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement if he knew he might be reunited with
his mother.

Though Ryshel
wished to leave immediately, there were a few things that she needed to
accomplish in order to avoid suspicion. First, she would need to earn the trust
of those around her and be seen in the boy’s presence by many members of the
palace staff. Then, there would be less suspicion if she were seen departing
with him. That would take time, but hopefully not too long. Her own children’s
welfare sat firmly at the back of her mind, and she wondered if she had made
the right decision in leaving them behind. She forced herself to believe that
they were safe, as long as the castle stood. Efren would do everything in his
power to protect them. Ryshel hoped it would be enough.

After a week had
passed, Lady Bartin stopped by for a visit. Taking Ryshel aside, she said, “I
have arranged for a carriage to meet you this night. It is time for you to go.”

Ryshel’s heart
raced as she nodded her understanding. “I am ready,” she said.

That evening,
Ryshel dressed herself in a plain dress and concealed herself in a gray hooded
cloak. Dismissing all of Rayne’s servants, she made sure no one was around to
hear the words she was about to say to him.

“Rayne, there is
something I need to tell you,” she said softly.

Rayne looked up at
her, his blue eyes full of cheer as usual.

“My true name is
Ryshel. I am your aunt.”

Rayne jumped to his
feet and bounced up and down. “Auntie Rysh!” he shouted. “Mommy talked about
you before she went away.”

Ryshel smiled and
hugged the boy. “Your mother misses you dearly and has sent me to collect you.”

The boy’s eyes
shone with hope. “I want to be with her more than anything,” he said.

“And I shall take
you to her,” Ryshel promised.

As night fell, she
dressed the boy in commoner’s clothing and covered him with a large black
cloak. She intended to say he was her own son should anyone stop them along the
road. With any luck, they would go unnoticed. The carriage was awaiting them only
a few yards outside the palace grounds.

The moonless night
gave them the best chance they had of not being seen. Quietly, the two left the
palace and approached the gates. A single guard stood watch, leaning lazily
against the metal bars.

“Who goes there?”
he asked as they appeared from the darkness.

“It’s only me, the
nursemaid Rya,” Ryshel replied.

“Who’s with you?”
the guard asked, looking at the boy. In his commoner clothing, the guard did
not suspect his true identity.

“He is my son,” she
stated.

The guard stared at
them a moment longer, but finally he opened the gate. “Go on,” he said.

Ryshel’s heart
skipped a beat as she grabbed Rayne’s hand and walked through the gate to
freedom. Finally, she could let out the breath she had been holding. They were
on their way home at last.

Not a minute after
they stepped through the gate, an alarm bell rang out. Someone was aware the
prince was missing. Ryshel and Rayne broke into a run as the guard behind them
shouted, “Halt!”

Paying the man no
heed, they continued to run. Dozens of footsteps sounded behind them on the
hard stone path. Ryshel knew she had failed. The guards would overtake her, and
she would be separated from the boy as Aubriana had been.

The carriage came
into view as the guards closed in on the pair. Her heart fell as the horses sprang
into motion. The driver must have heard the alarm and seen the guards. No doubt
he wished to avoid putting himself in danger. Ryshel could only stare as her
hope rolled away with the carriage.

A strong hand
gripped Ryshel’s arm and pulled her back. “Where are you going?” he demanded,
his breath hot on her face.

Rayne squealed as
he was lifted into the air, his hood pushed back from his face. “This is the prince,”
one of the guards said. “She’s tried to kidnap the prince!”

The guard carried
the boy back to the castle as Ryshel was dragged along behind. With a firm grip
on her arms, they led her down a dark passage to the palace dungeons. The guard
flung her into a cell and slammed the door.

“You’ll hang for
this,” he said, spitting on her.

“I am Ryshel, Queen
of Ra’jhou, and I demand to be treated with respect!” she declared.

The guard laughed.
“Well I’m the King of Whiskey Village, and I demand you buy me a drink.” He
performed a silly dance to the amusement of the other guards.

“What I have said
is true,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Take me to your king at once.”

The guard laughed
again. “My king is away at war. I’ll fetch you some paper and you can write him
a letter.” He grinned at her, revealing blackened teeth.

“Then I demand you
take me to whoever is ruling in his stead. I am a queen!”

The guard looked
her up and down, wondering if she might be telling the truth. She did not
appear intoxicated, and her voice and mannerisms revealed her identity as a
noblewoman. “For a price,” he said, holding a hand through the bars.

Ryshel stared at
the man with hate in her eyes. Reaching into her pocket, she found two small
pieces of gold. Placing them in the guard’s hand, she said, “Take these. I can
give you more once I’m released.”

The guard’s eyes
lit up with delight when he saw the gold. “I’ll be back for you in the
morning,” he said with a grin. “Wouldn’t want to wake anyone just yet.” With a
mock kiss, he added, “Sweet dreams.”

The blood rose in
Ryshel’s face, but she said nothing. Taking a seat on the straw that was strewn
on the cold, wet floor, she settled in for the night.

A
ubriana reclined
on her bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She paid no heed to the
knock at her door. A young girl had arrived with a message which contained
urgent news from Na’zora.

Ignoring the conversation between her maid and the
girl, Aubriana turned to face the balcony. Outside, the Wrathful Mountains
stood as proud as ever.
Would that I were absorbed in that stone,
she
thought.
Surely a mountain feels no pain.

Clouds had descended, hiding the tips of the
mountains from view. The wind rustled the princess’s bed curtains and dried the
tears on her face. More tears fell to replace them.

Shala’s eyes moved quickly as she read the letter.
The information it contained was far too important to keep from the princess.
She must be informed. Moving to the bed, Shala stood over her, holding the
parchment in her hand. “It’s about Queen Ryshel,” she said.

Aubriana did not respond. Her eyes remained fixed
on the landscape, her ears unhearing.

“My lady,” Shala spoke louder. “There is urgent
news of Queen Ryshel. She has been taken prisoner.”

Those words roused Aubriana, who reached out her
hand for the letter. Looking over the words on the page, she began to weep.
“Help me dress,” she said, her voice raspy. “I must speak to my brother.” She
crumpled the letter in her hand and pressed it to her chest.

“I could bring the news to the king for you,”
Shala offered. “You aren’t well enough to be out of bed.”

Aubriana patted her maid’s hand. “This is my
duty,” she said.

Shala helped the princess to the cushioned bench
of her dressing table and went to retrieve an appropriate dress. Returning with
a dark green gown, she slipped it over the princess’s head. Aubriana stood,
allowing the skirt to fall in place. Brushing her hand lightly over the satin, she
realized how long it had been since she had dressed. Her days were spent in
bed, wearing only a plain cotton chemise.

“This color suits you,” Shala said, attempting to
make conversation. Too many days had passed in silence. She was happy to see
her mistress out of bed for a change. “Have a seat and I’ll fix your hair.”

Aubriana sat in silence while Shala
combed through her messy hair. Though the maid was
gentle, there were too many tangles to avoid any pain. Aubriana did not mind.
The physical pain took away her numbness and reminded her that she was still
alive. Observing herself in the mirror, she realized how pale her face had
become. Her eyes seemed distant, lost in the gray that surrounded them. She
touched her fingers to the fine lines that had appeared on her forehead.
I
was beautiful once,
she thought.
How life has changed me.

Once Shala had
finished with her, she said, “You look like a princess again.”

Aubriana managed a
weak smile, though she no longer felt like a princess. Someone else, it seemed,
now inhabited the shell the princess had left behind.

“Let me come with
you,” Shala requested. The princess was not strong enough to walk so far on her
own. Her legs were wobbly, her steps uncertain.

With a nod,
Aubriana took her maid’s arm. Together they began the slow march to the throne
room, where Efren was holding court. Aubriana clutched the letter tightly in
her hand and tried to steady her breathing. There was no choice—she must face
the king. This news was too important to keep from him, no matter how he might
react.

Two guards stood at
attention outside the door. Their faces displayed surprise at seeing the
princess. To their knowledge, she had not left her bedchamber for weeks.

“I need to see the
king,” she said in a low voice. “It is a matter of urgency.”

The guards looked
at each other before opening the door. The king’s page stood on the other side.

“What is it?” he
asked.

“Princess Aubriana
requests an audience with His Majesty,” the guard said. “She says it is
urgent.”

The page nodded and
motioned for Aubriana to enter. In a loud voice, he announced her presence.

Aubriana approached the king, still supported by
her maid. With the best curtsy her weakened legs could manage, she said, “My
Brother King, I come bearing news. A dear friend of mine in Na’zora has sent
word of Ryshel.”

Efren sat forward in his seat. “Tell me,” he said.
“Did she arrive safely? Is she on her way home?”

Aubriana swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “She
did arrive safely and was given a position as governess to Rayne.” Her voice
shook as she added, “A few days ago, she was taken prisoner while trying to escape
with him.”

Efren was stunned by the news. He sat motionless,
absorbing the words his sister had spoken. Closing his eyes, he asked, “What
will they do with her? Will she be executed?”

“Her insistence that she is a queen has fallen on
deaf ears. She is currently housed in the dungeons.” Aubriana looked down at
her feet, her head feeling too heavy to lift. This was her own fault. Ryshel
should never have gone. If Aubriana had not been so distraught, Ryshel would
never have felt compelled to attempt something so dangerous. It was Aubriana’s
own betrayal that had led to this. She had cost Efren everything—his kingdom
and the woman he loved. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

Laying his head in his hands, Efren wept. This
news was more difficult to bear than the impending loss of his kingdom. Even in
his worst imaginings, he had always been killed before his wife and children.
Now he might have to live with the reality that she was never coming home. His
beloved was suffering and would surely be killed. There was nothing he could do
to save her.

Aubriana gathered herself and approached the
throne. Taking her brother’s hands in hers, she said, “Have hope, my king. My
friends will do everything they can to free her. They believe it’s only a
matter of gold.”

Efren paid no heed to her words.