The Nexus Wars: Book 01 - Demon Gates, page 36
A large wooden coffin was set on the ground at the base of the statue, half covered by a large white shroud. In a semi-circle around the coffin stood several musicians, playing lute, harp and flute in a mingling tune of sombre tone. At this distance he saw the Princess Kitara was one of the musicians, dressed in a large coat and playing the old Harp she had been playing at the Inn.
With a curse he realised this was Llewellyn’s funeral. Casting about the room he spied his clothes and dressed hastily, unmindful of his wounds. He tucked Llewellyn’s rapier through his belt and pushed his own sword under the bed before exiting and searching for the way to the garden.
A cold, soft rain drizzled from dark clouds. Two guards flanked the doorway, but hardly noticed him as he stepped past them. He noted the music had faded and a deep, powerful voice was rising through the thick air. He recognized it as that of the King, but more emotional and strained than he had heard the day before in the Throne room.
“...and although he was not of Thorhus and counted the open land his home, I know he held something in his heart for this city and its people.”
“That Llewellyn of Lloreander was one of the greatest Bards of our time is undisputable, as is his reputation as a friend and companion for those who were not necessarily deserving of it. His love for people, whether kin or of the other races, was surpassed only by his love for his music.”
As Valdieron closed on the ceremony, the King paused and he looked up to see him smile wryly. “I remember as a youth, I was in awe of him, and he would always pause to speak with me at my will, not because I was the heir to the throne, but because he wanted to speak with me. For that I have always held him in the highest regard, and will always remember him.”
Valdieron stopped at the edge of the crowd; his head bowed solemnly as he listened to the King’s stirring words. He was glad for the light rain to mask the tears running down his face. He tried to smile for he knew Llewellyn would not want him to mourn his passing. He noticed two stone doors opened in the base of the statue; leading underground to where he guessed was a vault. He felt eyes on him and turned to see Kalamar gazing at him with a concerned frown, his own dark hair dripping and his dark cloak clinging to him.
“Therefore,” continued Dhoric, “I have decreed that Llewellyn shall rest in the vault of Temorial, with my ancestors. So shall his memory ever be remembered with the house of Temorial.”
Valdieron staggered forward as several guards moved to the coffin, feeling the eyes of many on him. As the guards bent to hoist the coffin he dropped to his knees before it, laying a tentative hand on the cold wood. Tears ran unashamedly down his cheeks as he choked on his words. “You were my friend for only a short time, and you understood me and supported me when I needed it. I will always remember you, my friend. Sleep well!”
He took a step back and another figure shifted past him. He lifted his head slightly, smelling faint rose-scented perfume, and recognized the Princess Kitara, her head also bowed so her long, soaked hair hid her face. She carried her harp protectively against her chest but held it out and rested it on the casket. Valdieron stepped back further, watching the Princess but giving her privacy. If she said anything he did not hear. When she was done, she spun and strode quickly back to her father’s side and he rested an arm around her shoulders as she buried her face against him.
The guards shifted after the pause and marched towards the vault. The entry was immense, so they did not have to stoop to enter. They marched down the stairs into the dim interior. The low music started up again, and Valdieron wished it had been a livelier tune, which the Elf would have appreciated more. After a short time, the guards returned and eased the heavy doors closed and sealed the vault. With a hushed murmuring the crowd drifted away, and Valdieron felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Thorgast and Kalamar there.
“Valdieron, you should be abed,” warned Kalamar softly, showing concern that he was up and walking.
“I couldn’t miss this,” returned Valdieron sternly, for he did feel well, if not a little tired.
Kalamar merely nodded and Thorgast spoke.
“I will be returning to the Inn now. Are you coming?”
Valdieron shook his head slowly. “I wish to see Shakk first, but I will be there later.”
Thorgast nodded and turned to Kalamar. “Farewell.”
Kalamar bid him farewell and the big barbarian strode from the garden.
“I too have business which cannot wait,” explained Kalamar, his gaze lingering on the closed vault doors. He laid a comforting hand on Valdieron’s shoulder. “The guards have been instructed to let you walk the palace unhindered. If you need me for anything, do not hesitate to find me.”
Valdieron nodded as Kalamar drifted away, his footsteps leaving a trail on the damp ground. He did not stay long, not wanting to linger on his lamentations, and turned back towards the palace. The garden was silent and there were no more guards at the doorways.
The quarters were not busy, with only several maids and cleaners moving about, so he stopped briefly in the room he had awoken in to swap Llewellyn’s rapier for his dragon sword.
The stables were set under the ramparts of the inner bailey they had been led through the previous day as prisoners. It was large, with a single large door reinforced with iron. Inside it was clean and well kept with a long row of wooden stalls. It was probably for the horses of the royal family, he mused, seeing some of the stalls empty. Other stalls housed horses of quality. Usually he would have marvelled at these great animals, but his gaze dropped on one of the horses down the line and he stopped with a great smile. He whistled sharply, and the dark horse wheeled.
There was instant recognition in his large red eyes as he reared as much as the high stall would allow, his whinnying causing a stir from the other horses before Valdieron managed to quieten him with a hug. Shakk almost threw him to the ground with his antics, and he slapped the big horse firmly but joyfully.
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” he joked, stepping back to cast a critical eye over Shakk. It was obvious he was being treated well in the royal stables, something he knew the horse would not soon grow weary of.
He set his sword down and vaulted into the stall, pushing the excited horse away so he wouldn’t get crushed. He gently ran a hand over Shakk, checking him thoroughly. He appeared more muscled than Valdieron remembered, probably as a result of the long journey from Tyr to Thorhus. His hide was glowing, an indication of his health, and his tail and mane were braided and intertwined with delicate silver ribbons. His hooves were also new, and appeared softer, probably to compensate for the hardness of the cobbled roads here in the city.
“Well, at least they take care of you here, boy” he said. Shakk had returned to his food after the joy of being reunited had worn off. “And I see you get plenty of exercise.”
There was a silvery peal of laughter from nearby and he whirled, feeling suddenly self-conscious speaking to a horse. His surprise turned to nervousness, however, as he saw Princess Kitara standing at the stable’s arched entry. A fur-lined grey cloak covered a long white dress beneath. She wore high boots, slender and traced with silver, and her hair was tied back in a tail. A small bag hung over her shoulder, and he could not be sure but the hilt of a weapon seemed to bulge at her left hip.
“Do you always speak with animals suchlike?” she asked, her pale lips pressed into a tight smile.
Valdieron coughed in embarrassment and turned back to Shakk, who shifted forward in the stall as Kitara entered, neighing as if in greeting. The princess strode forward with a fond smile, raising one slender hand outstretched, holding a small cube of sweet sugar, which Shakk carefully lifted between his teeth, and chewed.
“I spend most of my time with them,” answered Valdieron softly, remembering his childhood days when Shakk and Ruff had been constant companions. He knew few other young people from the village, and the farm’s isolation made it difficult for him to see them more than several times in a year.
“Well, at least they don’t tell you what you can and cannot do,” sighed Kitara wistfully. She ran a hand through her bedraggled hair, wet from the rain. “If I hear another member of my family tell me what I should and should not do, I will scream until they all think I am mad and stay away.”
Val guessed that with the sudden insurgence of people into the city for the tournament, the Princess was limited in her freedom to leave the palace. He knew she had needed the magical mask to let her escape the other night to play at the Inn, and realised her father had most likely forbidden her from leaving the palace at all. Yet by her appearance, she was intent on going riding. Although the castle grounds were large, she would not need the travelling bag or weapon that he was sure was hidden beneath her cloak.
“Going for a ride?”
The princess started and turned from where she was stroking Shakk’s long mane. Her blue eyes darkened like a pool shadowed by cloud. She looked around briefly, as if frightened he had spoken too loud or somebody was within earshot. She frowned briefly and narrowed her eyes, but merely sighed ruefully. “I need to think, and I cannot do that surrounded by doting family members or dutiful servants. It has been some time since I have ridden, and I thought what better way for me to get away for a while?”
“I take it your father doesn’t warrant leaving the grounds without permission. Surely he has some reason for this?”
Kitara began to scowl, but instead nodded acquiescence. “He thinks that with so many strangers in the city, some factions not loyal to him may seek to grab an upper hand. He fears that every dark street holds an ambush for me, or every turn an arrow.”
“And Hagar?”
Kitara cursed vehemently, making Valdieron rock back with shock. He had heard worse over the last few months, but never had he expected such from the Princess. “I do not think he has concerns for Hagar stealing me away.” She sighed disdainfully. “Why should he when Hagar may have my hand anyway after he wins the tournament?”
“If he wins,” whispered Valdieron. His resolve hardened again as he remembered the silent vow he had made to avenge Llewellyn’s heartless slaying. He would do that at the tournament, before the amassed populace. He saw the incredulous look Kitara cast at him, however, and realised he must have spoken out loud.
“You aren’t really entering the tournament are you?”
He nodded gloomily.
Kitara chuckled softly, but his stern gaze made her cease. “You aren’t joking?” He shook his head. “But, you are so young. Why? This is not a game, you know. People have been killed in this tournament.”
Could he tell her the reasons for his entry? He had only wanted to enter the tournament at first because it had been a marvel to him. To be present with some of the greatest fighters in the realms would be an awesome experience. It would also enable him to match his newfound skills with more experienced and powerful warriors. He guessed that many trials and tribulations would stand between him and his goal of finding the pieces of the Disk of Akashel, and his martial skills may need to be enough to carry him through, and out of, trouble.
But could he also tell her of his newest reason? Tell her that he would never let her be taken by Hagar?
That the Dak’marian had ignoble intentions for the Princess was almost assured considering his actions the other night. A sudden thought struck him.
“How did he know you?”
Kitara turned to him questioningly.
“How did Hagar know you the other night at the Inn? Did he recognize your voice, as did I, or did he see through the power of the mask?”
Kitara frowned as she shook her head, brushing wet strands from her face. “I do not know, to be honest. I have asked myself that selfsame question many times.”
Valdieron frowned, but Kitara turned away. She moved to a bench nearby and bent to grasp a saddle. “Coming?”
“You can’t be serious?” asked Valdieron bemusedly. If her father had forbidden her to leave the palace and she did, if they were found out it would be he who would be frowned upon. Considering his earlier run-in with the King, that was something he didn’t need.
Kitara laughed, and it was without the undertone of sorrow he had noticed earlier. She hefted the saddle to one of the stalls nearby and fussed over it momentarily before turning back to him. He gasped involuntarily, seeing now the face of Cari-Ann before him, and he realised she had donned the magical mask. She laughed again at his shock, and it was the same laugh, but her skin was paler, and her features almost completely different. “The guards will merely think you are riding with Cari Ann, the serving girl from the kitchens.”
With a disbelieving chuckle Valdieron rose. He had not expected this. He would rather have been back at the Inn, helping clean up, or concentrating on his training. He was never comfortable with strangers, and had always been the quiet type, who would listen and learn rather than speak. Now he was in the company of the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the realms, and he felt totally inadequate. Her very presence made him nervous.
Kitara was almost done saddling her own horse, a tall dapple mare of only a few years, who seemed spirited and restless as the princess tightened the girth strap and lengthened the stirrups and reins. He hurriedly moved to Shakk and set the saddle in place, securing it quickly. He had no blanket to put under it, though he hardly ever used one.
Leading Shakk from the stall was a task unto itself as the big horse tried to shuffle past. He followed Kitara, trying not to stare at her athletic body beneath the heavy cloak. He did keep an eye on people passing, however, waiting fearfully for the call from someone who recognized Kitara. He copied the Princess as she mounted her mare and walked her slowly from the palace.
Valdieron could not guess at how he looked as they exited the palace under the close scrutiny of the guards. They began to cut the two riders off, but the recognition of either Valdieron or Cari Ann seemed to appease them. Kalamar had said he would spread the word that he was not to be accosted on exiting the palace. Kitara looked at him and winked as they passed under the towering parapets. He almost fell from the saddle, fearing it had been witnessed by one of the guards and recognized for what it was. There were no shouts of alarm, however, and they passed from the palace without pause.
“I knew we could do it,” whooped Kitara as they moved far enough away from the gates not to be heard. Not that they were free yet, having yet to clear the castle gates.
Once free of the gates, Valdieron began to breathe a little easier, though he did glance over his shoulder occasionally or start when he saw the ocean-blue tabards of soldiers in the King’s livery. At his side, Kitara laughed at his apprehension, but he saw her also studying their surroundings warily.
They followed the road to the north first, wide and less populated as it wound through the wealthier suburb. Valdieron found that the houses were built more for purpose than for show. Although many were expensive and beautiful, with plush gardens, marble pillars and silver-gilded walls, they were made for strength. He also noted the right-angled streets, which Llewellyn had once told him were a basis of defence. The buildings were high, most with rooftop balconies where archers could wait in ambush, while doors were strengthened by flanking beams of stone or hardwood. He wondered if war had ever ravaged the city, and if so, when?
With the rain clearing, the streets became more crowded as they skirted to the east and turned south. They passed the great academy, a wide, narrow building some several storeys high and built of huge sandstone blocks. Its weathered appearance indicated an age beyond even that of the castle and palace, though many places showed reconstruction and repair. It was plain, with many narrow windows and railed balconies. A wide, clear lawn was set before it, with several arrays of statues, their arrangements holding no meaning for Valdieron. Llewellyn had told him that people were taught many things there, from poetry to economics. He wondered if it might hold something he would be interested in. He assumed their library must be vast, and wondered if he would see it one day.
The east gate, like its western counterpart, was a heavily fortified portcullis and gate arrangement surmounted by twin barbicans and wide ramparts for archer positioning. It lay open, allowing passage for the populace. The few who entered or left beneath it were mainly farmers and outlanders coming and going on business or those entering for the tournament. He realised there were seventeen days remaining until the trial. He had much to do to prepare himself, but looking across at the princess, he would not have been anywhere else at that moment.
The shadow of the gate passing over him made him think of the gallows. The road from the gates turned to dirt and rock as it sloped sharply down to the drawbridge. Dark waters rushed below, slightly tinged with brown as a reminder of the recent rain. Droplets of rain rested on the grass, like an ocean of glistening diamonds split by the winding brown road.
With a sigh of relief, Kitara looked back over her shoulder at the looming city walls. There were few people about, and she peeled the mask away, revealing her beautiful features. She secreted the mask beneath her cloak.
“Where are we going?” asked Valdieron sceptically. Although he felt more at ease out of the hustle and bustle of the city, he realised now that Kitara had revealed herself, they were susceptible to being caught out. He could almost feel the eyes of the parapet guards on his back as they walked the horses along the road.
Kitara merely flashed him a roguish smile and spurred her horse forward. The grey mare leapt forward, long-legged and strong. Shakk trembled and started, pulling at the reins sharply as Valdieron took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, don’t you think they’ve gone far enough?”
