Honor Crowned (22 page)

Chapter XXIX

With a sweep of one massive wing, Echalain doused the wall of fire separating them from the Kingdom’s army.  Jorem strode forward across the still smoking ground.  As he walked he felt the ground shake.  Glancing back, he saw Echalain reared back on his hind legs.  With wings spread wide, the dragon roared a challenge to the sky.

“BEHOLD!”
  So powerful was Echalain’s voice, Jorem was nearly knocked to the ground. 
“HERE STANDS A DRAGON KNIGHT!”

“Really?” Jorem said sarcastically as he turned back toward Echalain.  “We couldn’t go with a ‘Hey, how ya doing?’”

Echalain looked down at Jorem and he could have sworn the dragon raised an eyebrow at him.  The only real response he got was a puff of smoke from Echalain’s nostrils.  Jorem shook his head, turned about and headed towards a gold-clad figure at the center of the Kingdom’s army.

As he approached he noticed the brightly clad figures from the flanking battalions converging to the center as well.  Jorem was actually surprised to see that they had been in the midst of their men.  Normally the royalty stayed to the rear of a battle and sent orders to their respective battalions by runners.  If these were his brothers, something must have changed.

Even though it had been years, his brothers’ appearance had changed little.  Their broad shoulders and strong, square chins were just as familiar as the flowing hair cascading from beneath their helms.  A fourth figure in similar armor came pushing through the crowd to stand with his brothers.  They stood together facing him.  There was no recognition in their eyes, nor was there friendship in their stances.

“This war is over,” Jorem stated.  “You and your men can return to your homes.”

“Dragon or no dragon, we fight our own battles,” barked one of his brothers.  “Now stand aside that we may show our might!”

The four of them were so similar it was difficult to tell one from the other, especially in their armor.  From the voice and the posture of authority, Jorem was fairly certain, however, that the speaker was Brentin, his eldest brother.  The tone of voice was harsher than he recalled, and though he thought their words more bluster or boasting than not, he detected a sense of unity that had not been there before.  Indeed, all four of them stood together with far more confidence than he recalled.

“Do the lives of your men mean so little to you?” Jorem almost snarled.  “Would you send them to die by the blade just to satisfy your lust for glory?”

“They must pay for what they have done!” Brentin barked.

“And what is it that they have done to your people that you yourselves have not done worse?”

Jorem’s statement certainly got their attention.

“They murdered our brother!”  The leader of the rear battalion growled, surging forward.  “The death of a member of the royal house must be avenged.  Our own Father, the King, has been left bereft of his senses at news of his son’s death.”

So they thought him dead.  The speaker’s voice betrayed him as Lauren, Jorem’s closest brother in age.  From the aggression Jorem sensed in the closest soldiers, his father and brothers had been using word of his supposed death as a rallying point.  Interesting that they had cared not a whit for him in life, but would declare war over his death.

“If the King is incapacitated, that would make you King, would it not, Brentin?” Jorem asked bluntly.

“It does,” Brentin replied suspiciously.  “Who are you?”

“What do you think of the King’s affliction?” Jorem asked, ignoring the other’s question.  “Surely it is not for the loss of the spare.  Some other news perhaps?”

“The King received a message from Lady Bethania of Cragg Keep.”  Brentin’s words were curt and brusque.  “Shortly afterwards, he collapsed, but not before burning the message.  We could only assume it was word of the death of Prince Jorem.  The medics say the King has but a few days to live.”

In his mind, Jorem knew he should feel sorrow or loss at the impending death of his Father, but somehow the emotion was not there and would not come.  So long had he been estranged from his Father, the attachment that should have been there simply was not.  The assassin sent to kill him by order of the King certainly lessened any endearment he might have once had.   Should he ever have children of his own, he swore that such a situation would never happen.  Family should mean more than duty!

“I have it on good authority that Jorem is not dead—not yet, anyway.  I also know by the word of the King’s assassin that the King ordered Jorem’s death.”

Lauren seemed genuinely shocked at the idea.  The other three looked worried, but not surprised.  A murmuring started at the edge of the Kingdom soldiers and spread rapidly.  Jorem felt a cold lump form at the pit of his stomach.  Were his brothers no better than his Father?  How could he allow them to continue to rule if they cared so little for their own people?

“As Dragon Knight, I have the power to remove all of you from the royal linage.  Unless you can provide a good reason to do otherwise, I don’t see much choice.  Is there any who would speak for you?”

“You would put Jorem in my place?” sneered Brentin.

Jorem peeled the gauntlet off of his right hand.  With a twist and a tug, he removed the ring bearing the royal signet from his finger.  Without so much as a glance at the ring, he tossed it to Brentin.  The eldest son of King Halden deftly caught the ring and held it out for the other three to see.

“I have no interest in the throne.  But I will not stand idly by while the people of this land suffer at your hands!”

“Prince Jorem,” someone shouted from behind Jorem’s brothers.  “It’s Prince Jorem!”

A few cheers and numerous exclamations erupted here and there.  Brentin, Daniel and Farthon looked about them nervously.  Lauren looked perplexed and confused.  Jorem reached back and slowly drew a sword.  The hiss of the steel sliding out of the scabbard was punctuated with the ring it made as it came clear.

“What shall it be, brothers?  Is there no one who will speak for you?”

“It’s not like that, Jorem,” Farthon spoke up.  “After Broughbor, after we left you there, we were banished from the castle and stripped of our rank.  It didn’t take long being cast among the common soldiers for our actions to catch up with us.  We came to see what Father’s actions, as well as our own, were doing to the Kingdom. We’ve tried to lessen the damage Father has been doing.  We are not who we once were.”

“Pardon me, my Lords,” a soft voice spoke.  “If I might say a word?”

Jorem recognized the man immediately.  There was no mistaking Gregorio, the weapon master.  Tall and foreboding, he glided forward.  The man’s chiseled face and graying hair belied the stealth with which he could move.

“What Prince Farthon says is true,” Gregorio said.  “They have put much effort into alleviating the hardships of the people.  The men respect them and willingly follow them.”

Jorem looked about and saw that several of the soldiers nearby were nodding in agreement at the weapon master’s words.  Gregorio was one of the few people at the capital Jorem trusted.  If the weapon master vouched for his older brothers’ change, he would believe it.

“Very well,” Jorem replied.  “Go back home.  Let these people get back to their families and to their lives.”

“Wait!” Lauren exclaimed.  “They’re retreating.  If we attack now, we can easily defeat them!”

Jorem glared at all four of his brothers.  It was easy to see that they were all in favor of marching against the people of the north.

“Tell me this, brothers,” Jorem said in a harsh and dangerous tone, “what is the difference between these people and those people?”  Before they could answer, he continued.  “Only the fools who lead them.  Now go home and stay there until you learn what you owe the people you would contend with.”

Jorem turned and began stalking back toward Echalain.

“Jorem,” Brentin called.  “You should keep this.”

The ring Jorem had removed came sailing through the air toward him.  Without sparing a single thought, Jorem brought his sword up in a sweeping arc.  A slight ‘ching’ and the ring was neatly sliced in half.  The two halves landed with distinct thuds as they hit the ground.  Jorem stared down at the two spots of glittering metal, forever severed, never to be joined again.

“I am no longer Prince Jorem.  I am Dragon Knight Jorem.”

Echalain roared his approval of the statement.  From this point on, Jorem would be a protector of all of the people in every land.  With the backing of not only the dragons, but the dragon mages as well, he could stand against any tyrant.

“Be warned, brothers, I will be watching you.  Serve this people well, or be severed from them.”

Turning his back on his brothers, the Kingdom and his past, Jorem strode up to Echalain.  Looking up at the beast towering over him, he took a deep breath.  A life of service protecting those who stood most in need—that, Jorem decided, was the best life a man could choose.

“Come, my friend,” Jorem said, for once at peace with his world, “let us go home.”  In his mind, he pictured meeting up with Jen at Dawnsword.  Their bond was strong and would grow stronger, with his other half they would be whole.  Together they would make this world a better place not just for themselves, but for all.

“INDEED!” rumbled the voice in his head.