TALES OF THE SEA KINGS
Estora sank into the chair beside Zachary’s
bed.
“I hope you
understand,” she said.
He lay peacefully,
unresponsive as always to her words and presence.
Her decision about
Captain Mapstone today was one of several she’d already had to make
since the coronation. The ceremony had been a quick, muted affair,
attended by any dignitary on castle grounds who could be found. Her
mother and sisters remained long enough to witness the ceremony and
then departed with the corpse of her father.
In a way, the
coronation had been like her wedding, only she was not marrying
just one man, but a realm. She was given not a ring, but a crown.
Her fingers went to the fillet on her head. It didn’t fit exactly
right, and Colin said it would be no problem for it to be adjusted
by the royal jeweler.
She knew more
decisions awaited her attention, some where life and death lay in
the balance, others less important. For now she delegated those
that she could. Cummings, she was certain, was quite capable of
organizing the coronation dinner on her behalf. The rest, Colin was
holding in reserve for her for now, giving her time to adjust to
her new role and the shock of her father’s sudden
death.
“You have no idea,”
she whispered to Zachary.
She took the cloth
soaking in the bowl of cool water, wrung it out, and gently dabbed
the sweat on his face. All at once his eyes fluttered open and he
grabbed her wrist. She stifled a cry. Even ill as he was, his grip
was crushingly strong.
“I would have begged
her not to go,” he said, eyes fever bright. Then he released her
wrist, mumbled something more and fell back into his troubled
sleep.
“Zachary?” she
called. “Zachary?” But he did not respond.
She sat back
wondering if he spoke out of memory or dream, or if he had
incorporated something of her conversation with Captain Mapstone
into his subconscious.
Her wrist still bore
the pressure marks of his grip. She flexed her hand and reached for
the book on his bedside table. Sometimes she spoke to him as Master
Destarion recommended, telling him of all that had come to pass,
and of her sorrow, and of her hopes that they would embark on a
very bright future together when he got well, ruling the realm in
concert and in peace, and raising children who were healthy and
happy. They were all the things any new bride would wish for,
although few brides had to worry about ruling anything beyond their
own households.
Estora had felt
awkward speaking to him while menders were in attendance, so she’d
taken to reading to Zachary instead, and even when they were alone,
as now, she found she enjoyed the reading as an escape from all the
turmoil around her. She hoped her voice touched Zachary somewhere
inside and comforted him. Master Fogg, the castle librarian, had
located for her at her request a volume titled Tales of the Sea Kings.
She’d already read
to him the tale of Marin the Gardener, who, it was said, was an
enchantress who lived in the Northern Sea archipelago and rejoiced
in the growth of natural things. Her garden was an entire island:
its woods, meadow, and shore, and all the creatures that inhabited
it with her.
Most of the tales of
the sea kings centered around the Northern Sea and its islands, and
the next one she opened up to was a favorite among seamen, that of
Yolandhe, the seductress who guided King Akarion to her shore and
kept him there. When the enchantment lifted, Akarion remained with
her out of love, but Yolandhe was immortal, and Akarion mortal. The
tale always ended on a bittersweet note.
Despite Yolandhe’s
trickery, Estora always sympathized with her loneliness. Though, if
she wished to apply logic to the tales, there were apparently
enchantresses on just about every island and sailors constantly
landing onshore to become ensnared in one spell or
another.
“This is the tale of
Yolandhe and King Akarion,” Estora read to Zachary, “and how the
king claimed Yolandhe’s love for himself.” Many versions of the
tale carried a heavy moral message about how Akarion tamed
Yolandhe’s wicked ways. It would be interesting to see if this
interpretation fell into the same trap.
It did not, but
focused on Yolandhe’s seduction of the king and the nearly constant
lovemaking that ensued for years after.
“Don’t they ever
stop to sleep or eat?” Estora asked, growing warmer with each word
to the point she had to fan herself with the book. “Who wrote
this?” When she checked, the author was listed as
“Anonymous.”
She thanked the gods
no one heard or saw her reading it, that even the Weapons granted
her privacy by posting themselves outside when she was with
Zachary. He remained quiet and unconscious. Roused as she was by
the story of Yolandhe and Akarion, she ached for him to awaken, to
draw her into his arms, to make love to her.
Had Zachary not lain
injured the night of their wedding, they’d have already joined in
the rite of consummation, an event of ancient origins attended by
witnesses to ensure the new royal couple commenced the task of
creating heirs. Her marriage was already legally bound, but there
were those who adhered to the old ways and would not recognize it
until the rite took place, and those couples that refused lost
title and were shunned. Sometimes tradition held more sway than
law.
She hoped, given the
circumstances, the need for the rite would be overlooked and that
she and Zachary could join naturally without an audience watching
on, but with her cousin Richmont constantly mentioning the rite, it
seemed unlikely. He just wanted to ensure, she knew, that her place
as queen was unquestionably secured among all influential parties,
including the traditionalists, which of course guaranteed his own
place in the royal court.
She shuddered at the
thought of having to perform the act before people known and
unknown to her. She resumed her reading, pushing the rite of
consummation to the back of her mind, enjoying the escape as much
as hoping her voice reached Zachary through his illness and
reassured him he was not alone.
Later in Zachary’s
dressing room, which was rapidly becoming Estora’s place of
business, Cummings helped her to go through the volumes of well
wishes and condolences that continued to flow into the castle. He
told her they would hold off on a coronation dinner until several
lord-governors could be in attendance. It would be, of course, a
sticky situation. The lord-governors could very well challenge the
manner of her marriage and hasty coronation, but she hoped Colin’s
handling of the whole situation forestalled such conflict. It had
certainly made the confinement of Captain Mapstone all the more
imperative.
The messages Colin
sent out with the Green Riders told of Zachary’s desire to move up
the wedding out of his regard for his betrothed, and because an
“accident while riding” made him reconsider the gravity of a smooth
transition should any serious harm come to him. The rumors rife in
the city and beyond had already muddled the details of the incident
so much that the lord-governors would have an impossible time
rooting out the truth. Meanwhile, Colin and his aides had begun to
circulate additional rumors with a modified version of what had
happened on Sacor City’s streets that afternoon. The king’s
high-strung stallion had spooked. The king fell and was injured. He
was under the care of the castle’s finest menders and in good
enough form to marry.
Word was that there
would be official celebrations when the king was up and about and
the lord-governors in attendance, but there were already accounts
of the city’s populace celebrating in the streets, and the joy
would only spread as word moved across the country.
The lord-governors
still might challenge the marriage and coronation, but the mood of
the realm would be against them like the surge of an incoming storm
tide.
A knock came upon
the door and Estora nodded for Cummings to answer it. There were
murmurings with whoever sought entrance, but she did not glance up
from her papers until Cummings stepped aside and three persons
approached: Colin, General Harborough, and Lieutenant Connly of the
Green Riders. They bowed to her.
“What is it?” she
asked, praying it was not a crisis so early in her queenhood, as if
the attack on her betrothed and death of her father were not
enough.
“A crisis, I fear,”
Colin replied, supplying the answer she least wanted to hear. “In
fact two.”
Estora closed her
eyes and the papers shook in her hand. No. She must not appear weak. She took a deep
breath and steadied herself.
“Tell me,” she
said.
“News of both came
from Green Riders,” Colin said. “Lieutenant?”
The Rider nodded,
and Estora wondered if he felt as lost without his captain as she
felt without the king.
“Your Highness,” he
said. “The news comes from both the south and the north.” He told
her first of word he’d received from the wall, an unbelievable
story of an Eletian Sleeper—with an explanation of what Sleepers
were—trapped in one of the towers, and how it was possible that
more Sleepers turned by the darkness of Blackveil could pass
through the towers into Sacoridia.
“Rider D’Yer and
Captain Wallace have requested more troops at the wall to guard the
towers,” Connly finished.
General Harborough
opened his mouth to speak, but Colin gestured for him to wait. “Let
Lieutenant Connly tell the tale of the north first,” he
said.
The general folded
his meaty arms and waited with ill-concealed
impatience.
“I’ve received
reports,” Connly said, “from Riders who’ve been trying to track
Birch and his Second Empire renegades on the northern boundary.
There’ve been incidents.” His eyes were cast downward. “The Riders
have come across small settlements that have been destroyed, the
people murdered to the last babe and elder. They’ve found evidence
that the people suffered extreme torture, no mercy, before being
executed.”
Estora sat back,
horrified. “Birch—he’s attacking our boundary?”
“Dodgy bastard,”
Harborough grumbled. When he realized what he’d said and to whom,
he cleared his throat. “My apologies, Your Highness, for my coarse
words. I’m used to speaking with the king.”
To another man, she thought. “Never mind that. You
were saying?”
“Yes, Your Highness.
The boundary folk who settled in the wilderness up there. They’re
self-sufficient people, but certainly not prepared for military
style raids like the ones Birch has been conducting. The reports
are that the attacks and subsequent torture, rapes, and executions
were methodical. Isn’t that correct, Rider?”
“Yes, sir,” Connly
replied.
“Birch must be
training his renegades for true battle, hardening them, by hitting
weak targets first. He’d also know that despite the fact these
settlers aren’t technically in Sacoridia, that his actions would
infuriate the king. The evidence Lieutenant Connly here mentioned
that Birch left behind was definitely meant to provoke. Birch is
thumbing his nose at us.”
Estora licked her
lips, fought her own fear at the realization that she was
responsible for deciding how the realm would respond, that she was
responsible for the lives of the boundary folk and the soldiers who
would eventually engage with Birch.
She knew the general
probably wanted to delve immediately into discussion of what the
response should be, but first she asked Connly, “What of those
people, the settlers not yet attacked?”
“Word has gotten
around,” he replied, “and most are seeking refuge this side of the
border as they did during the groundmite raids.”
Estora remembered.
Some provinces, like Adolind, had been welcoming to the refugees,
while others, like D’Ivary, had not. D’Ivary had, in fact, abused
the refugees. As a result, D’Ivary had, by the king’s decree and
agreement among the other lord-governors, a new
lord-governor.
She turned to Colin.
“Ensure there are no problems with the lord-governors accepting
refugees into their provinces. The king, as well as I, would wish
for their safety. If problems arise, remind them of
D’Ivary.”
Colin bowed. “Yes,
my lady.”
“Rider, have you any
more to report?”
“No, Your
Highness.”
“Then you may be
excused with my thanks.”
He bowed and hastily
departed, with a quick glance at the doors that led to Zachary’s
bedchamber. He must be desperate to know about his king’s
condition, and what was going to happen to his captain. If things
were different, Captain Mapstone would be here advising Estora. And
if the captain were not able to be here, Estora would have asked
the lieutenant to stay. But things were what they were. Connly had
been briefed on the captain’s suspension, and about his added
responsibilities. To him it must appear a very threatening
situation and she had no misapprehension about where his loyalties
lay—with the king and his captain. He was unsure of her, not ready
to trust, despite the past relationship she’d had with the Riders.
Gradually she would try to bring him into her confidence, win his
trust, but there were more pressing problems to attend to at the
moment.
And she must act
decisively.
“We need to hit back
at Birch,” General Harborough said, “and hit hard. I can assemble a
force to march north and—”
“What about the
towers?” she asked.
“They are not an
immediate threat.”
“How do you
know?”
Harborough looked a
little flustered, glancing at Colin for support. Colin remained
neutral, did not speak. It was clear the general expected her to
acquiesce to whatever he suggested. She was, after all, an untried
woman with no warcraft behind her.
“We do not know,”
the general finally admitted. “But you heard the Rider. That
Sleeper could have been in the tower for years, and there may be no
others. No others that will awaken, or do whatever it is they do.
Let Lord D’Yer handle it. Birch is actually attacking us. He’s the
bigger threat.”
“If I may
interject,” Colin said, “Lord D’Yer has rotated his troops at the
wall now for three years with only minimal support from the royal
army. They are stretched thin. It seems to me more of our regulars
could be assigned duty at the wall. It is a border that has been
long neglected, and you see what neglect has wrought at the
breach.”
Lines of barely
contained anger furrowed across Harborough’s broad forehead. “The
D’Yers were supposed to be responsible for that wall. I don’t like
the idea of splitting our forces on two fronts like that. We take
out Birch and his renegades, then we can worry about the
wall.”
Colin and Harborough
went back and forth, each emphasizing his point. Estora wished ever
more fervently Zachary would wake up, recover. How was she to know
what she should do? Zachary would know. Karigan would, too, she was
sure. Karigan was the one who, after rescuing Estora from
abductors, figured out how to further distract the brigands from
hunting her and allow her to escape. It had been a dangerous plan,
but clever. Karigan had made herself a decoy by dressing up as
Estora and led the brigands away in a chase.
It gave Estora a
thought.
“Gentlemen,” she
said, interrupting what was fast escalating into an argument. The
two looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was even there. “Birch
attacks with stealth, does he not?”
“Yes,” Harborough
began, “but—”
“And our scouts and
spies have had difficulty finding and tracking his
movements.”
“That’s
correct.”
“Then I do not
understand how you plan to engage him.”
Harborough’s
expression crumbled, his cheeks taking on a more ruddy glow. “We’ll
step up our scouting and define a field of battle.”
“But he isn’t using
traditional battlefield tactics,” Colin said. “He’s attacking
unprepared civilians.”
Harborough’s chest
puffed up and he looked ready to bellow at Colin. The general was
definitely not a man who liked to be told he was
wrong.
“Gentlemen,” Estora
said firmly, “I must agree with Colin. I think the situation calls
for another approach. The Mountain Unit keeps a base to the north,
does it not?”
Harborough nodded.
“But it’s more an outpost, too small to—”
Estora silenced him
with a look. She then told them her idea and they both gawked at
her, stunned.
When she finished,
Harborough rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to
talk with my officers and strategists,” he said, “but I must admit,
it’s a very compelling idea. It will, however, still require
additional soldiers.”
“Of course,” she
said, “but surely one unit could be spared to go to the wall, at
least temporarily, even while we address the situation in the
north. When the lord-governors assemble, it seems to me it would be
a good time to suggest they take a more active role at the wall.
The brunt of the problem has fallen on D’Yer, and yet it’s not just
a D’Yerian problem. It’s a Sacoridian problem. Perhaps I can
convince them to provide fresh provincial troops to help guard the
wall.”
Both men looked
pleased by her solution, and after Harborough left, Colin said, “If
I may be so bold, Your Highness, you did very well with such
difficult problems. I am not sure Zachary could have done
better.”
After Colin left,
Estora stood unsteadily and entered Zachary’s chamber, and sat at
his bedside. She ought to have felt elated, or at least relieved,
but instead she put her face in her hands and wept, her unconscious
husband her only witness.
“You must wake up,”
she whispered to him. “I am not strong enough for this. I cannot
bear it alone.”