The Blind King (15 page)

R
yshel sat
wedged in the corner of her prison cell, nibbling on a small crust of bread. At
first she had refused the food brought to her, insisting she should be given a
proper meal. The guard would only shrug and stuff the food into his own mouth
while she watched. After two days without eating, she decided it was better to
take what she was given. If there were any chance she would be brought before
the king to plead her case, she did not plan to do so weary from hunger. She
took each meal, no matter how meager, without a word.

There were no
visible windows, so she relied on the guards to give her an accurate account of
the passage of time. With only pale torchlight available to her eyes, she could
not tell the difference between night and day. Still, the darkness shielded her
from some of the horrors of her prison. Screams echoed off the walls, but she
could not see the face of the sufferer, nor could she see his blood pooling red
on the stone floor. The squeaking of rodents also filled her ears, but she
could not see their tiny eyes shining in the darkness.

Despite her pitiful
conditions, the guards had not treated her too badly. For the most part, she
held her tongue, not wanting to antagonize them and worsen the situation. They
left her alone, forgetting about her claims of royalty. She could only hope
that Lady Bartin was working to find a solution to her imprisonment. There was nothing
to do but wait.

Did Efren know of
her predicament? She hoped he did not. He already had so much on his mind, and
the safety of the kingdom rested on his shoulders. Ryshel did not wish to add
yet another burden to her troubled husband.

Though she listened
closely to the conversations between the guards, she heard no word of the war
with Ra’jhou. Any news would be welcome. Not knowing if the castle still stood
was driving her mad. While she sat idle in the darkness, her children could be
in serious danger.

Why did I come
here?
she wondered.
Would it not
have been better to remain in Ra’jhou and await the outcome of the war? Even if
we had lost, at least I would have died alongside my loved ones, not alone in a
foreign land.

Ryshel cursed her
own stubbornness. Rayne was in no danger here, that much was certain. He was
Tyrol’s only heir, and he would naturally be protected. Shaking the thoughts
away, she determined it was best to stick by her decision rather than give in
to despair. Aubriana deserved to have her child at her side. Ryshel had erred
in the manner of escaping, and her capture was her own fault. If she had
planned a better escape, she would be back in Ra’jhou by now, with the young
prince at her side.

Another thought occurred to her that filled her
with dread. Had Lady Bartin’s part in this scheme been discovered? Was she
under arrest as well? If so, there was no one left to help her. None of
Aubriana’s friends would want to be involved after this. They would face the
king’s wrath, just as Ryshel herself would. What would his punishment be?

Footsteps sounded through the darkness, making
their way closer and closer to her cell. Ryshel rose to her feet and peered
into the distance. She stepped back, startled as a guard appeared. She had not
realized he was so close by.

“Some water, miss,” he said, thrusting a wooden
cup between the bars.

Aubriana could see the youthfulness of his face.
Taking the cup, she said, “Thank you for your kindness.”

He nodded and said, “It’s not right to keep a lady
down here.”

With a half-smile, she replied, “I quite agree
with you.”

The guard’s expression seemed puzzled. “You don’t
talk like an ordinary prisoner. If you don’t mind my asking, what was your
crime?”

“Attempting to kidnap the prince, or so they say,”
she replied, handing the cup back to him.

“You’re the one who caused all that commotion the
other night?” His mouth hung open as he tried to comprehend her crime. “I never
heard it was a woman they caught.”

“Indeed it was,” she responded. “I’ve been here
ever since.”

“Still, it isn’t right to keep a woman here,” he
stated. “This place isn’t fit for any woman, even a criminal.” He turned and
headed back into the darkness.

Aubriana listened to his footsteps as he
disappeared from sight. She was grateful for the company, if only for a brief
moment. Resigning herself to the silence once more, she retreated back to the
corner of her cell and leaned her back against the wall.

Hours or possibly days passed before she heard
footsteps approaching her cell once more. The young guard had returned to bring
her something to eat. He said nothing, but a concerned frown graced his
features as the dim light of his torch fell upon Ryshel’s face. Through the
bars, he handed her a small bundle before heading back into the darkness.

Untying the cloth, Ryshel smiled at what she saw
inside: a small wedge of cheese, a slice of warm bread, and a handful of
raisins. This food was far too good for a prisoner. The guard had given her his
own meal.

“Thank you,” she said to the darkness, hoping the
young man would hear. His compassion brought tears to her eyes. Even here in
the most horrible place she could imagine, there was kindness and humanity.
Perhaps there was hope for her after all.

When next the guard returned, she was determined
to tell him who she was. If she could convince him of her true identity, she
might have a chance at an audience with King Tyrol. She doubted he would grant
her freedom, but he might at least give her better accommodations. Even a swift
execution would be better than lingering in this place. Ryshel finished her
meal, hoping the guard would return soon.

“S
couts are
reporting the Na’zorans are closing in, Your Majesty. They will be here within
a few days.” Duke Arden stood firm as he delivered the grim news. Ra’jhou’s
final stand was about to commence.

“How are the
preparations going?” Efren asked. “Do we have enough food for everyone?”

“We have collected
all the supplies that could be found and stored them within the castle. With
rationing, we should last at least a month.”

“What of our army?”
the king asked.

“General Willem has
briefed the soldiers we have remaining, and they are prepared to do battle.”

“We should take the
time to arm the citizens as well,” Efren said. “If the walls are breached, they
might have to defend themselves. I would have them prepared for it.”

“Very well, Your
Majesty.”

“Groot can assist
you,” Efren added. “He and his crew should have enough items to supply those
who want them.”

With a bow, Arden
exited the throne room to seek out the dwarf craftsman. The activity in the
courtyard was minimal, and there were no signs that the citizens were
panicking. There had been enough time to prepare, and it seemed there was no
last-minute rush. Arden was glad to see that the people seemed at ease. Beneath
their brave exteriors, he was sure they were as frightened as he was. A
decisive battle was about to begin, and Ra’jhou’s survival was at stake. He
could not help admiring the resolve of the people.

Groot was perched
upon the castle wall next to the second trebuchet he had constructed. Noticing
Arden’s arrival, Groot said, “I keep checking the horizon for soldiers. I
haven’t seen any yet.”

“They’ll be here
soon enough,” Arden replied. “King Efren wants the citizens armed. Can you see
to it?”

“Aye,” the dwarf
replied. His workers had retrieved all unused armor pieces and weapons that had
been stored in the castle over the past few generations. Only a small number of
pieces had been damaged beyond repair. Groot’s men had repaired the rest as best
they could. They wouldn’t last long in a fight, but they were far better than
nothing.

Arden headed off to
announce the need for more volunteers. He visited each camp, instructing them
to meet with the dwarves if they would like to obtain a weapon. Many citizens
were already barricaded inside the castle, and he did not offer to arm them.
These were the citizens who would need to flee if the battle went ill. They
were either too old or too young, and the rest were women who were needed to
look after the children and provide medical attention should any of them become
injured. The only information Arden could give them was to make them aware of
the correct route to take should they need to flee into the mountains. It would
be a last resort, but it might be necessary if the castle fell. There was no
way of knowing whether the Na’zorans would spare their lives.

Groot gathered his
men and helped them place the armor and weapons into carts. By the time they
had finished, long lines of citizens had formed. Nearly every man, including
boys as young as ten years of age, along with a large portion of women, waited
for the dwarves to deliver the weapons.

Handing a dagger to
a woman clutching a baby, Groot said, “Shouldn’t you be down in the cellars? It
would be safer for your baby.”

The woman glared at
him, making him wish he’d kept his opinion to himself. “If I have to kill to
defend my child, I will do it gladly,” she stated. Taking the dagger, she
marched away in a huff.

Groot shook his
head. Perhaps dwarf women would do the same if faced with a hopeless situation.
In the future, he would hold his tongue before the women of Ra’jhou. They were
clearly made of stronger stuff than he had anticipated.

A cheer broke out
among the people, causing Groot to look up from his work. To his surprise, he
saw King Efren making his way through the crowds. His manservant was not far
behind, directing the king toward the dwarf.

“Your Majesty,”
Groot said as the king approached. “My kinsmen and I have been busy arming your
people this morning. They aren’t the best trained soldiers, but they’ll do.
They certainly have spirit.”

“You completed the
second trebuchet, I’m told,” Efren said.

“I have,” Groot
replied. “I’ll take you to it if you like.”

The king nodded and
followed Groot to the top of the castle wall where the second trebuchet stood.
Efren clutched at the wood to test its strength.

“It seems sturdy
enough,” he commented.

“My finest work,”
Groot responded, his eyes gleaming.

“I am grateful for
the assistance you and your people have provided me,” Efren said. “Have you had
any word from Pedr or the dwarves who left with him?” With no news of the
dwarf, Efren had begun to wonder whether his trust had been misplaced. After
all, he had known the dwarf only a few minutes before sending him off on a
mission of grave importance. His number of mistakes seemed to be mounting, and
his mind was occupied by regrets.

“None at all,
Majesty,” he admitted. Though he wasn’t fully aware of Pedr’s mission, he knew
it was dangerous to send him to speak with King Oge. Pedr had been banished,
and it was unlikely the king would be happy to receive him.

“I have placed a
great deal of trust in Pedr,” Efren stated. “You know him better than I do. Is
there any chance he might return with an army of his own? He knows our
situation is dire, and we would not be difficult to defeat. He is aware of all
our defenses. I worry I’ve placed my trust in him too easily.”

Groot replied,
“Your Majesty, Pedr is the most loyal man I’ve ever known. If he made you a
promise, he’ll do whatever he can to keep it. You have my word on that.” There
was no doubt in his mind that Pedr would remain loyal to King Efren.

Efren nodded. “Pedr
may be honorable, but what of King Oge? He might see an opportunity that he
cannot pass up. This kingdom is vulnerable from too many sides.”

Groot did not know
what to say. King Oge had come to the throne through questionable means, and it
would not be a far reach for him to invade a troubled kingdom, especially if
there were riches to be found. Not wanting to burden the king further, Groot
kept this information to himself.

T
hree days
later, the Na’zorans descended on the castle. King Tyrol rode at the front,
leading his armies with pride. In total, his craftsmen had managed to build six
working catapults and a ram. There were no towers to help scale the walls of
the castle fortress. The scarcity of resources and the king’s impatience had forced
them to travel before a single tower could be completed.

Tyrol observed as
four catapults were moved into position by horses, led by the skilled hands of
his engineers. The other two catapults, however, were moved by soldiers. There
had not been enough horses to supply his cavalry and pull all of the siege
equipment. The soldiers who pushed the catapult were quickly becoming
exhausted. A few had been injured en route and had to be sent away.

“How close would
you like us to get today?” Lieutenant Jak asked. “I recommend caution. We can’t
be sure what weapons the Ra’jhouans might have.”

Tyrol laughed and
said, “If they had defensive weapons, they would have used them to halt our
advance.” After a moment of thought, he added, “But I don’t want to be too close
to them for now. Let them quake with fear at our approach. Perhaps the blind
man will be so frightened he will offer me his throne without a fight.”

“He could have done
that already, Your Majesty,” Lieutenant Jak pointed out.

Tyrol gave him a
scathing look. “He’s obviously a proud man,” he said. “We will wait a while
before firing the catapults. I don’t want my new castle too damaged. Repairs
will be costly. Be sure the mages hold their fire for now as well.”

“Of course,
Majesty,” Jak replied. “Siege warfare makes men idle. What task shall I put the
men to while we wait?”

“Have them build
shield walls between us and the castle. I’m sure they’ve rounded up a few
archers to hide behind those walls. I wouldn’t want anyone to be hit.”

* * * * *

From his throne room, Efren could hear the sounds
of the approaching army. Their feet marched in time, their steps echoing in his
ears. Horses whinnied in the distance, and hammers rang out as the invaders
prepared their camps. With only a month of food stored away to feed the entire
castle, the Na’zorans wouldn’t have to wait long for their victory.

“Duke Arden,” Efren began, “escort me to the
walls. I would greet this army that has come to conquer us.”

Without a word, Arden reached for the king’s arm.
Was the king ready to surrender? Doing so could potentially save many lives,
but Tyrol could not be trusted. He may well annihilate the citizens of Ra’jhou,
intending to fill the kingdom with his own people. Perhaps he would divide it
into large portions for his noble supporters. The massive funds required to
train and outfit his mages must have come from somewhere, and Arden suspected
Tyrol would owe favors to many wealthy people.

The sun shone brightly in the sky as the pair
ascended the castle walls. Groot was positioned at his trebuchet, watching the
crowd gather below. He bowed before the king as he came into view and followed
behind him in case there were orders he needed to hear.

Efren stood upon the wall facing the invading
army. Though he could not see them, he could feel their presence and sense
their malice. The sound of their axes chopping at trees that had stood a
hundred years filled his ears. Smoke from their fires filled his nostrils. The
landscape of Ra’jhou might never be the same again.

“Are they building a wall?” Efren asked.

“They are, Your Majesty,” Arden replied. “They
likely wish to protect themselves from our arrows.”

“Their walls won’t hold up to Groot’s trebuchets.
Are they in range?”

“Not yet,” Groot responded. “The wall they’re
building will be too close for the trebuchet to hit, and their troops are too
far back.” Pausing, he added, “For now.”

Efren nodded. “When they’ve constructed the wall,
burn it.”

Groot grinned and looked at Duke Arden, who was
obviously puzzled. “King Efren had me deliver an oily concoction and cotton
strips to our archers. They can shoot fire arrows.”

Duke Arden raised his eyebrows approvingly.

“Their supplies won’t last long, I’m afraid, but
destroying their wall will at least dishearten our enemy,” Efren stated.

Groot said, “The king’s being conservative in his
estimate. That chemical of his burns hotter than anything I’ve ever seen. It
won’t use up the arrows too quickly.”

Once again Arden was confused. Apparently, he had
not been privy to all the king’s preparations for war. “What chemical would
that be?” he asked.

“It’s something I’ve been dabbling with for a
while,” Efren explained. “It won’t get us far, but it will help for a while.”
Turning away from the army, he said, “I think it’s time I was outfitted for
battle. I intend to be on this wall when the invaders move into range.”

Arden sighed quietly. It would seem Efren still
intended to man the trebuchet himself. Perhaps he hoped to be killed in battle,
rather than awaiting an execution at Tyrol’s hands. If the king was determined
to die for his kingdom, Arden would give him his full support. “Your Majesty, I
would like to volunteer to aim the contraption for you.” If this was truly the
end, Arden wouldn’t need to continue his duties around the castle. Knowing he would
make a poor foot soldier, he decided it was better to join the king upon the
walls. Dying at the king’s side would be an honor.

Efren smiled and placed his hand on the duke’s
back. “I welcome your assistance.”

Taking their leave, the two went back inside to
don their armor. Groot watched them with admiration as they walked away. Arden
was not a battle-seasoned veteran. That was plain to see. He had spent his life
in refined luxury, not training with a sword. His willingness to join in the
fighting was commendable. Efren’s dedication was worthy of song. Had he been
born a dwarf, he would have been discarded. Groot could not imagine a braver or
more loving sovereign. If they survived this onslaught, Groot would be honored
to serve this king for the remainder of his life.