The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy (4 page)

*

“Did you have
any inkling of all this, my Lord?” Darven asked, as he helped Aran
to remove his soon to be king’s heavy mail hauberk.

“No,” Aran
grunted as he leant over and let the mail fall from his shoulders
into a noisy heap on the stone floor of the armoury. “It was only
until the very last moment when Maran stood before me and offered
me the kingship did it finally sink in that I was the heir.”

Darven watched
as Aran pulled off the gambeson and rearranged his family’s sword
in the belt and scabbard at his hip, “You’d do well not to lose
that my Lord,” he observed wryly, “It is your heritage after
all.”

Aran glanced
down at the quiescent weapon at his side, “It’s not likely that
anyone could steal it from me. You saw what happened to Sen…they’d
burn as soon as they touched it.”

“Aye, but it
is potent proof of your ancestry. Keep a close eye on it my Lord.
There is no other weapon like it.”

Aran nodded,
“As a Warriormage it is my true weapon. Such magecrafted blades
were intended to be wielded by those mages. That is why the sword
was given to Andur. He had the latent Warriormage Ability.”

Darven bent
over to unbuckle the armour plates from Aran’s lower legs, “I am no
longer surprised by anything now my Lord,” he commented. “This week
has certainly been a memorable one for us all.”

Aran shook his
head, “Darven, I’m going to have to insist that you drop the ‘my
Lord’ rubbish. Honestly, I cringe every time I hear you say
it…”

Darven grinned
“Is that a royal command?”

Aran lightly
thumped the other on the arm, “Yes!
Please
”

“Then I shall
obey,” Darven laughed.

Aran
straightened his clothes, “Will you ride with me this afternoon? I
need to clear my head of all this…”

Darven’s face
fell, “I had arranged with Kiaia to ride with her.”

Aran laughed
and gently slapped his friend’s back, “Then go with her, I will ask
Alissa, I am certain she will come.”

Darven
brightened, “Ask her, we will all ride together, besides the heir
apparent should never ride unescorted. We have to keep you in good
health and fine fettle for your crowning.”

“Aye,” Aran
agreed bleakly, looking around him at his ancestral home, “When I
was younger I always wondered who my true parents were and the
lineage of my family. Now I know and it is far beyond anything I
had ever dreamed possible…” He laughed and shrugged, “I wonder what
Master Cody would make of all this? He used to say that he would
never trust a King…I wonder if he will take that back once he
learns of my sudden elevation to that position. Sed too! My foster
brother will never believe it possible. I guess the first thing he
will do is beg money off me so he can further his time in the ale
houses.”

Darven looked
up at that, “Master Cody sounds like a good and honourable man. It
would be good for you to retain his friendship. As for your foster
family…” Darven frowned and pursed his lips, “I would advise
strongly that you give them enough money to provide for them,
giving them comfort and ease for the rest of their days, then after
that is done you must quickly disassociate yourself from them. They
are not of the Andurian line. You may have a duty of care to them,
but once that duty is complete, they must have no further
relationship with you other than of subject and King. They cannot
think that they have any kind of right of lineage to this
throne.”

Aran’s
eyebrows rose in surprise, “Isn’t that being a little hard hearted
Darven, besides they could never wield the sword.”

Darven nodded
and put away the last of the armour, “True but there must be a
certain division between you and them. Look after them by all
means, but make it very clear that they have no blood connection to
the Andurian crown. To imply otherwise could throw the province
into civil war.”

Aran nodded in
agreement, “That would be insufferable.”

Darven stared
narrowly at his friend, gauging how best to put into words what he
was next going to say.

“Aran?” he
asked.

“Yes?”

“I know that
this is probably one more thing on top of a lot you have to worry
about, but it is important, probably more important than everything
else.”

Aran stared at
his friend in some concern, “What is it Darven? What in Andur’s
name are you driving at?”

Darven pulled
a face, “Aran… you are the last of the Andurian line. You must give
thought to choosing a queen soon and getting her with child to
continue the lineage.”

“What now?”
Aran gasped, “I’m not even crowned yet.”

Darven
shrugged apologetically, “Sooner rather than later man. It’s not
certain you will come back from this war alive.”

Aran was
astounded, “Who would have me? And if perchance I found one who
would, then by that very act I must compel her to leave home and
family—and bear me a child within months of our first meeting!”

Darven shook
his head in amazement, “And I thought I was blind with Kiaia.”

The Wolf
Leader smiled gently and put a friendly hand on Aran’s shoulder,
“My Lord,” he said formally, “I would put forward the name of
Alissa, daughter of Taran for your consideration as Queen.”

“Alissa!” Aran
was astounded, “She is the daughter of a soldier. Wouldn’t I be
expected to select someone from the daughters of the Old Families
of Haulgard? In the past all seem to have chosen consorts from
Haulgard.”

He shook his
head unhappily, remembering their argument last night, and the
previous intimacy that had been markedly absent from their private
conversation in the throne room. Aran doubtfully shook his head
again, “I doubt she’ll want to marry me for she is forever chewing
me out over one thing or another.”

Darven
grinned, “Have you asked her?”

Aran was
horrified, “No! Captain Taran would have my hide if I had any
inclination towards his daughter.”

Darven shook
his head in weary amazement, “Aran sometimes you are so blind.
Right now Captain Taran thinks the sun shines out of your eyes, in
fact he would be eternally grateful if you married his daughter.
Alissa is as strong as steel, she would make you a very good Queen.
Whatever is the matter? I thought you loved her?”

Aran sat down
on the wooden chest and ran a confused hand through his hair, “I
do…it’s just this morning she seemed so distant towards me. She
dragged me all the way up to the throne room to show me my
ancestors, and all she could talk about was my heritage and duty.”
Aran’s mouth tightened “Yesterday we could hardly keep our hands
off each other…but now…nothing.”

“She’s
probably just overawed at your sudden elevation,” Darven reassured,
“It’s not every day your best friend is declared king.”

Aran shook his
head, “It’s not that. Alissa has taken the news better than I
have.” He sighed and stared bleakly out into the armoury, “The
closeness has gone Darven…she still professes friendship, but I
believe now that there is nothing more.”

Darven stared
at the disconsolate figure of his friend. “I think you’re wrong,”
he said at last, “And I’d still ask her. She is a forthright young
woman. If she wants you she will tell you so. Although…”

Aran stared
blankly at this friend, “Although what?”

The young Wolf
Leader pulled a face, “Give her a little time but do not wait until
you are crowned. She may lose her nerve once you become her
king.”

Aran stood up,
“Then I will think on this; however I must speak to Archmage Maran
about this matter. He may have some other candidate in mind for the
position of Queen.”

Darven stared
at his friend in amazement, “You would let others choose your
lifepartner?”

Aran shook his
head sadly, “Now that I am resolved upon this new kingship, I
believe that few decisions will be mine. I suspect that the choice
of Queen has already been determined. Alissa is a friend but she
may not be mine to choose.”

Darven nodded
in agreement, “That may well be true. Glaive seems to have you in
its pockets—although it would be in your best interest to mention
Alissa’s name when you are talking with Archmage Maran about the
choice of Queen.”

Aran nodded,
resolved, “Aye, I will do that. If you are correct and she still
cares for me then there is no other woman I could choose.” He
turned and grinned at Darven “Just as you could choose only
Kiaia…”

Darven grinned
broadly, “Kiaia is a goddess Aran. There is no other woman for me.
I thank Andur that I was not destined to be King, for I do so want
her to be my mate.”

“That fact is
as certain as the sun rising tomorrow morning,” declared Aran. “You
have for certain won her, when is to be the wedding?”

Darven’s face
flamed, “I visited her late last night and we talked long into the
night.”

Aran
immediately grinned, “I suspect you did more than talk. Tell me
truthfully.”

The Wolf
Leader smiled to hide his embarrassment, “Aye she is a demanding
woman. In fact she would not let me be all night, in the end she
did agree to wed me, but she took a lot of persuading.”

Aran laughed
heartily, “I am certain she enjoyed every moment of being
persuaded.”

*

Their armour
now stored away, the two men ambled from the central Keep out into
the deserted training yard. Aran stood at the base of the Keep’s
stairs and gazed about him with new and considering eyes.

“Since this is
now my ancestral home, I ought to get something done about the old
section,” he mused aloud. “I am certain the Council cannot object
to that, especially now that there is a renewed lineage at Andur’s
Keep.”

Darven stopped
and looked back at Aran. “Wait until after the war,” he advised,
“However it would be wise to check your defenses here at the Keep.
The walls seem stout and strong, but if war comes again to the
province the Keep may be one of our last defenses.”

Aran stared at
the huge curtain walls, “Aye, I had not thought of that, the Keep
always seems to me so invulnerable and impenetrable. I will ask the
mages to look into it. I am certain that an Earthmage would be able
to determine if there are any faults or weaknesses in the
walls.”

Darven
continued walking, “Come Aran,” he called, “I smell fresh bread
baking, and I have not eaten since sunup.”

As they neared
the kitchens they began to run into more and more of the Guard and
castle household. Each man or woman they encountered did a swift
double-take, and sketched a startled bow and a quick, ‘My lord,’
before rushing off again.

“Your fame
precedes you Aran,” Darven commented dryly.

Aran groaned,
“I’m barely an hour or two into kingship, and I’m already getting
heartily sick of it. I’m not looking forward to hearing it from
everyone else.”

Darven
laughed, “I suppose it can be unnerving. Mind you most of these
people have only heard about kings from the old stories. They
really don’t know how to act around you.”

“I wish they’d
act normally,” Aran growled irritated “I’m still Arantur of Leigh,
despite what Maran has said.”

Darven shook
his head, “No, I disagree. As soon as you took up that sword you
ceased to be Arantur of Leigh. Now you have become Arantur, last of
the Andurian line, and heir to the throne, and I am afraid everyone
knows that now. Unfortunately, as much as we would wish otherwise,
life is a series of steps ever moving us forward. We may yearn for
the past, to childhood or a simpler life, but we can never go
backwards. Life doesn’t work that way.”

Aran nodded
sadly at that, “I’m beginning to realise the truth of that. Ever
since Mage Trevan walked into my life I have been constantly moving
forward into deeper and more disturbing experiences. I’ve hardly
had a time for rest and reconciliation. I don’t mind moving forward
Darven, but I wish it all hadn’t moved so fast.”

“Then you must
learn from it Aran,” he replied, walking over the threshold into
the kitchens, “Ah. They are serving lamb soup…come let’s eat.”

*

Aran, Darven,
Alissa and Kiaia rode in silence through the gatehouse, and out
into the high windswept pastures of the plateau. The two women were
riding ahead and Darven and Aran rode a few yards behind, alert to
any danger, hidden or apparent. As they drew out of sight of the
Keep, the two men spurred their horses to catch up with the women,
and with a clatter of steel shod hooves on the rock and gravel of
the path they quickly joined them. Darven rode up to Kiaia, and
leaning over whispered something to her. She nodded and the two of
them spurred their horses to draw a little away ahead. Aran drew
his dun mare alongside Alissa’s black coated mount and they rode in
silence for a few minutes.

“What are you
thinking about?” Aran asked after the silence had grown too long
for his comfort.

Alissa looked
up in some surprise, “What?”

“You seem deep
in thought,” Aran explained, “I was just wondering what it was you
were thinking about.”

Alissa smiled
distantly, “I was thinking about Darven and Kiaia and how well they
are suited to each other,” she replied gazing ahead to the other
couple riding close beside each other.

“Oh aye…” Aran
replied, “Darven has found his heart’s desire. I think that Kiaia
is also well pleased with her choice.”

Alissa nodded,
“She is a happy woman for there are many who are not so fortunate
in their luck.”

Aran thought
back to his earlier conversation with Darven and nodded
silently.

“You will be
crowned in a fortnight,” Alissa stated after another lengthy
pause.

Aran pulled a
face, “I know…and I cannot forget it. Wherever I go now people are
forever bowing and scraping and mumbling ‘My lord’. Unfortunately
it will get ten times worse when I am king,” he added.