The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (25 page)

“It is, my son, but some of the greatest
beauties of the world have a very dark side. This triangle does not
only represent peace, but it represents the pain and grief which
has been exerted to achieve that peace in the past. I am confident
we will one day return to this oasis, but for now, we journey
through the desert with any drink to parch our thirst. I fear it
will only get worse from here.”

With those words, the King turned and
left.

Neach was left with a concerned look on his
face. Something had changed about the King in the day passed, and
he was not sure what exactly had occurred. For now, he needed not
worry about the King and his toiling emotions. In the coming days,
he was expected to end his life, and he would need to expend his
effort on coming to terms with this grisly fate.

He walked back to the large crowd of
celebrators and searched for the wine.

Lately he had been searching for the
solutions to his problems in the bottom of a bottle. Unfortunately,
the liquor seemed to drown him in a drunken stupor that he feared
he would perpetuate for years to come. When he arrived at the
drinks table, he found one hundred of flagons of wine completely
filled.

A whiff of its top told him enough about the
taste of the alcohol, but in truth, it did not matter. He would
drink till he lost consciousness, and hope that he found his way to
his quarters. Such was the way of the burgeoning alcoholic.

When he succumbed to the coaxing of the
violet liquid, he wandered into a group of people who were dancing
in tandems. Realizing the futility of motion, he slipped past them
and headed toward the training ground which he knew would be empty
at this hour of the night.

As he walked, the clouds parted and a near
full moon shone down on the city. He swore he could make out
features atop the surface of its milky face, but he attributed it
to the wine.

Stumbling and without guile, Neach reached
the training area, flagon in hand.

Whispers.

He heard whispers as he rounded the corner
and pressed himself flat against the wall. Nearly chuckling at
himself for being so quick to engage in his stealthy behavior, he
paused when he heard a young woman’s voice break the crisp evening
air.

“What you are suggesting is absurd,” Jenos
said quietly, her recipient unidentified.

That identification would not take long, as
the next voice crackled through the open space.

“Absurd is sometimes necessary, dear. The
boy will live, for now, but if he gets too close, he will not be
spared. My House believes they have succeeded in cunning their way
into my castle walls, but, unfortunately for them, their ranks are
not united in the same cause. I was told of their intention the
night it was conceived,” the King’s tone sounded as if he were
spitting acid on the ground with every word.

“Why not kill him, to make an example?”
Jenos asked, her voice quivering as she cried, the sarcasm thick in
her tone, “Surely one more head lost at the swing of your sword
wouldn’t cause you less sleep, your Highness,” Neach was frozen in
fear, but couldn’t help but smile at her audacity.

And then came another swift sound, the sound
of flesh on flesh.

He crept around the corner, enough to have a
line of sight, and saw the King standing over his daughter as she
held her face. Henrig had hit his daughter in response to her
dissidence.

“I warn you not to defy me, my daughter. If
we are to survive the coming war, our family’s best interest can
only be served through cooperation,” his words hissed like a field
snake in the weeds, and Neach’s face boiled red with anger and
drunkenness.

With every ounce of energy in his body, he
fought against the initial reaction. Nothing would have pleased him
more than to confront the King, then and there, and fight for the
respect and dignity of the girl he had fallen in love with.

As he crept in the shadows, the King began
to walk toward him. He crept into the crevice behind him, and
disappeared into darkness. Blinded by anger or fooled by Neach’s
stealth, Henrig walked past Neach and didn’t react in the
slightest.

Following close behind was Jenos. Neach
wanted to jump out and embrace her, and wipe the tears from beneath
her eyes, but he remained hidden, knowing that exposing himself now
would result in his imminent demise. When she passed, he walked out
slowly, peering around the corners as he went. The alcohol had
struck him with full force, and he struggled mightily to reach his
seat in the courtyard.

When he reached the open space where the
crowd was still gathered, he saw Jenos waiting for him at his
seat.

“Where have you been?” he asked innocently,
knowing the truth of her disappearance.

He hoped she would tell him of her father’s
plan, and beg him to run, but he knew better than that. She would
remain silent for the sake of the King’s safety and the safety of
the Kingdom.

“I was meeting with the daughter of the Duke
of Jorwel. She’s a lovely girl, in town for the festivities,” the
words dripped with falsity, but Neach mustered the strength to
believe her.

“Is it normal for the other members of
royalty to come to Leirwold?” he asked, his question innocent
enough. He only wanted to move onto a different topic, there would
be no sense in brewing on it any longer.

“Most years no, but this year, it is
special. Father believes the only way to maintain a unified Kingdom
is to make the nobility seen by the rest of the population,” her
words singed with disdain for her father. Though she obeyed him,
she seethed at the mention of his pompous faux royalty.

As she spoke, a clamor arose from within the
crowd. Murmurs rose and retreated like the tides of the ocean.
Jenos stood tall, as she peered over the expanse of people.

In front of the large group, a wooden pillar
was being raised and placed deep within the castle soil. It stood
nearly twice the height of a man, and was wide enough to have been
a support beam for any building in the capital. When the wood was
raised in its entirety, a procession emerged from the darkness
beyond the secondary ring of the castle.

Jenos’ hands rose to her mouth and she
gasped so loud that it made the hairs on Neach’s neck stand up.

“
There’s going to be an
execution.”

The boy’s hair was shoulder length and fair
and his eyes were as blue as the clearest river tide in spring.

Dirk.

Spearheading the group of people, was the
boy he knew as Dirk, whom he had met at Daniel’s only a short while
earlier. He looked as he had when he came to visit Neach the day
prior, but his eyes were surrounded by deep purple rings, and his
face was cut in multiple places.

His heart sank to the floor, as he was led
to the wooden pillar by the King’s faithful executioners. Dirk
tried to remain stoic and resolved, but tears flowed down his face,
as they tied his arms behind him and his legs flush to the
wood.

The King followed behind the group of people
and came to the front of the wooden pillar to make a speech.

“Brothers, sisters, as you know, the Kingdom
of Duncairn is under attack from ruthless heathens who claim to
have a righteous cause, in comparison to that of my own. They
mercilessly slaughter innocent civilians in their quest of ‘good’,
and they cannot be allowed to maintain a grip of fear over the
subjects of this Kingdom any longer,” his words rung out as if they
were inside of a heavy brass bell, struck with the utmost force
allowed before it would break.

“This boy that you see before you is a
member of this House which feels they are responsible for taking
the King’s law into their own hands. Just yesterday, I discovered
him dressed as a market worker, sneaking into the castle,” as the
King spoke, Neach’s stomach plummeted. Dirk had been giving Neach
vital information, and now he would pay for it with his life.

“For the crime of treason, the most dubious
of actions, this boy will pay with his life. If there is anybody
who wishes to enact the policy of mercy on him, speak now,” the
crowd fell wholly silent except for the ever growing sobs of Dirk
as he hung there on the wood.

“Very well; burn him,” the King’s words
sliced like a sword into an open wound as Neach sat frozen to his
seat and watched as his brother writhed in agony.

The executioners doused the pillar in oil
and lit it with their torches. In seconds, the wood and boy were
reduced to immolating pikes, ablaze in the early summer
evening.

Neach looked away, but returned his gaze to
Dirk with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t let him die like this,
without giving him the proper respect. His screams lasted a few
minutes before they ceased, snuffed by the flame in a bid to make
dissidents quiet perpetually.

A somber silence hung over the crowd who had
gathered initially for celebration, but were now faced with the
very cold reality of death and treason. Dirk’s body was removed
from the premises and Neach fought back sobs of fear as he sat next
to Jenos. After all, it was possible it could be him burning in
front of the masses soon enough. He wondered why the King had let
him live so long already, if he knew of his affiliation with the
House.

His thoughts were not left unattended to for
long.

“What are you thinking of?”

The silence was broken by a forceful whisper
from Jenos. Her gaze remained steadfast and forward and the side of
her face had turned a bright red color. She rubbed it with her hand
as she spoke calmly.

Neach stared at the ground as he
responded.

“How is it that man’s life is valued so
little, but man’s impact valued so much?”

His words rang profound in the aimless
murmurs that had filled the courtyard.

“We hope to make grand changes, to have a
profound influence on our chosen field of expertise, yet we kill
and die on such whimsical notions,” he spoke softly, the death
affecting his ability to speak.

Jenos bowed her head and for a moment they
were in unison.

“I do not know why man acts the way it does,
I only have faith that it will ultimately prove to be the decisions
of man which ensure our survival.”

Neach raised his head to look on at the
crowd. A normal execution would have seen as much celebration as
any birth, but on this day they remained silent. The killing had
obviously worked in the way the King intended; Dirk was made an
example, and he hoped word of the repercussions of treasons would
permeate throughout the Kingdom.

For now, all Neach could think of was the
boy he had only just met. Burned alive, tortured at the hands of
the King he was meant to take down. A boy who reluctantly fought
against his King, now free of the chains his troubled life had
wrapped him in.

“Come, Coinneach, my father will be awaiting
us in the war room,” the words held an ominous tone to them, even
as she spoke so elegantly.

She rose from her seat and grabbed Neach’s
hand to guide him forward. He was reluctant at first, but stood and
followed her as she wished. The young man was no match for a
beautiful woman, especially one with wit as sharp as hers.

They left the courtyard, and Neach felt more
at peace after leaving the site of the execution. Velvet rugs were
hung around the walls of the halls, as the preparations for the
celebration moved along swiftly. They were red with golden animals
encrusted into their skin, and golden ropes tied around the
borders. Each one embraced Neach, as he walked past them and gave
him hope that his feral ancestors were walking with him, through
the cold halls of Castle Leirwold.

He knew not what awaited him in the war
room, but part of him hoped the King would reveal what he knew.
Unsure of how much longer he could keep it silent, Neach nearly
welcomed condemnation by the King; it was the least he could pay
for Dirk’s death.

When they arrived, Neach was surprised to
see only the King hovering over a collection of maps which were
spread out across a large oak table.

“Come in, son,” he called without looking
up.

“Leave us for a few minutes, my dear,” his
words were directed to Jenos, and she seemed to understand
immediately.

She walked briskly out the door, and left
Neach to deal with her father on his own.

When he turned to look at the King, he was
staring directly at him.

“Do you know what I’m looking at here,
Neach?” he questioned calmly.

Afraid to look ignorant, Neach simply shook
his head and walked over to Henrig.

“These are maps of our great Kingdom, son.
The red “X’s” denote enemy strongholds within the Kingdom. There
are a few groups of note, but none are as threatening as the House
Goedwig. You know of them, but let me show you why it is so
important to me that they are crushed,” the King’s voice rose
louder as he spoke more. One of the most glaring things to Neach,
was the fact that Daniel’s house was not marked on Henrig’s map. He
found minimal solace in the fact that his brothers and sisters
would be safe in the shadow of the Castle.

Pulling a larger map from beneath the table,
the King’s face lit up in a devious form of illumination, as he
looked down upon the elegant cartography.

“This map details the Kingdom of Duncairn
nearly four hundred years ago, when our first King reigned. King
Wrelnor unified all of the cities of Duncairn, and maintained power
over his subjects for nearly twenty years. They were happy! You
see, Neach? Life was better, then!” the King seemed to be losing
his sanity, slowly, as the two men spoke in the room full of
armaments and maps.

“Alas, after those twenty years, a group was
formed based on some insane tales, and they brought down the
burgeoning Kingdom in a ball of flames. For hundreds of years, the
Kingdom toiled in poverty and violence, a direct result of the
House Goedwig. And now, they threaten to do so again, something I
will not allow to happen; I will kill a few hundred people if it
means preventing the past from happening again,” fire burned in his
eyes, as his fist pounded the table.