Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1) (10 page)

The smith pumped the forge, pulled on heavy gloves, and stuck the blade into the flame. They admired the fluid movements of the muscular smith as he worked his craft.  Sweat trickled soon down their faces, but the smith remained oblivious to the intense heat. 

Trenton sidled over to a bucket and helped himself to a drink.  He said, “This reminds me of home—a pretty village with friendly people.  What’s this place called?”

The smith’s brow furrowed.  Giving information to strangers was not in his nature, so Trenton flashed a warm smile.

“Prosperity.  In the old days the name fit like a glove.  The spaceport gave us good business in them days.  Ye haven’t come to tax us again, have ye?”  The smith scowled.

“We’re not here for taxes.  We manned a medical ship—nothin’ to do with government affairs.”  Trenton chewed on a piece of straw and winked at Donovan.  “The council, they don’t like spacemen?”

“No.  They’d gut you given the chance, but the king’s got a soft spot.  He’ll treat ye royal if he’s still living.” 

“Sickly is he?”

“Until the curse struck, King Halder was strong as a bull.  The curse came with a devil horse—a horse the king ordered for the prince on his birthday—it brought nothing but death.  The prince, the queen, and all the royal family died.  King Halder got sick like the others, but he’s a stubborn cuss.”  Pride sparkled in the smith’s eyes.  “He vowed revenge, but it won’t be long until the king joins his kin.  He looks like the walking dead.”

“Sounds like a new king will be crowned right soon.”

“Aye and it’s a shame.  Halder was a good man, always fair to the likes of us.  Don’t know what bastard will take his place.  They all be alike, them dandies, raking in taxes from people who work hard to feed their families.  None of ’em fit to walk in Halder’s boots.”

The smith finished pounding and handed Trenton’s knife back.  “Ye be careful, son.  There’s them that would slit your throat given the chance.  It’d be a shame for a good trapper to fall prey to them robbers.  Jest a copper for pay.”

Trenton winked.  “Take this for your trouble.”  He handed over a gold piece.  A delighted expression warmed the smith’s face.  “There’s more where that come from—if ye help find good quarters for those we leave behind.” 

The smith bit into the coin and nodded.  “Never fear.  Long as that dandy’s gone, there be plenty of warm beds for them who pays like this.  I’ll see to it.” 

Trenton grinned.  “One more thing.  You got any leather britches I could buy?  I don’t like wearing these flimsy rags.” 

The smith grinned.  “Don’t rightly blame ye.  They look a might chilly.  Yer like unto my son’s size.  Give me a spell to speak with him.”  The smith chuckled and strode into the house behind the shop. 

“Good work, Trenton.  Five more minutes and he’ll offer his daughter as your wife,” Donovan said.

“Too late!  Maggie’s got my troth.”

When the smith returned with his arms full of clothes, Trenton beamed. “This is brilliant!  I get to wear real clothes for a change.”  The smith pointed at a back room and soon Trenton emerged, transformed.

“Ye look a might more civilized.  If ye have a mind, come back and visit.  The wife will treat you to a fittin’ meal.”  The smith extended a rough hand.  “Ask for Gunther.” 

Trenton shook the hand.  “Trenton and Donovan, my captain.”

Gunther gave Donovan a nod.  “Well met, Trenton,” he said.  “Trust us to look after your friends.” 

“What do I owe for the clothes?”

Gunther waved off another coin.  “We’re set, mate.  Take care and watch your back.” He turned to his work.  The hot glow of the flame made the sweat on his muscular arms glisten as though the smith merged with his fire. 

“Can we trust him?”  Donovan asked as they walked back.

Trenton nodded.  “He gave us his name.  A name is a powerful thing on this world, so he offered his trust.  We returned the favor.  We’ll leave gold coin and the crew will be set.  Institute script is worth nothing.”

“I’ll see to it,” Donovan said.

Krystal, Maggie, Chella, and Dr. Alexander sat on horses, ready to depart.  Two more horses waited for Trenton and Donovan.

Donovan tossed a bag filled with coins to the ranking officer remaining behind.  “a smith named Gunther will help get you settled.  “Take up local dress right away, and you’ll be fine until we return.”

Alex eyed Trenton’s leather garments.  “I hope they don’t include vermin.”  Trenton shrugged unconcerned but scratched absent-mindedly.  “We have a supply of repellent in the supply case,” Alex said with a smile.

Most of the crew seemed happy to stay.  Sir Hembly paced impatiently, and Donovan cringed at the thought of spending much time with the sour man. 

A few hours into the ride Krystal said, “I get fleeting thoughts from Hembly.  The king assigned him to accompany us as some kind of punishment.” 

Donovan leaned forward in his saddle.  “The guards pretend not to hear or answer in monosyllables when I ask questions.”

“I’ll gently probe their thoughts.  I need to find out how we should act at court.  It wouldn’t do to make a blunder,” Krystal said.  “Trenton’s not much help.  In those clothes he’s thinking and acting like a trapper.”

“He’s whistling again.”  Donovan nodded.  “The tune is beginning to make the guards smile.  I wonder what words accompany the melody.”

“I’d rather not know.  I’d probably be scarlet for the rest of the trip,” Krystal said.

On the fifth morning, Hembly summoned Donovan’s group.  “We arrive at the castle soon.  You should understand our rules.”  He shifted in his saddle, looking as if he resented instructing underlings. 

“Our government outlawed technology many years ago.  Using technology is strictly prohibited.  Lower class people might slay anyone caught with offworld equipment.  They deem the items instruments of witchcraft.”

Hembly sniffed at his handkerchief.  “We higher class people realize the truth, but we foster the notion to maintain control.  You’d be best advised to follow our rules if you wish to survive.”  He turned as if to dismiss them.

Donovan erupted in anger.  “Why did you wait to tell us?  My people back in Prosperity need to know this information.  By holding back, you put them at risk.”  Donovan clenched his fists, trying to remember what equipment they carried into the village.  Would the locals do violence against his crew? 

“Your crew!  Yes, I see how that could create a problem.”  Looking as if he enjoyed the thought, Hembly waved his handkerchief to a nearby guard.  “Dispatch a messenger to the spacers in Prosperity.  Explain the law forbidding technology.”  He turned to Donovan.  “A pity you didn’t think to ask earlier.  We’d hate for you to lose any of your crew to superstition, but it’s the best I can do at this late date.” 

Donovan glowered but restrained himself.  “What does the king have in mind?  Does he want to destroy us?”  

Hembly’s eyes widened with genuine surprise.  “Destroy you?  King Halder is your only ally.  He sent me under threat of death to bring you back safely—his little joke it seems.  The king has connections offworld…if he executes a devious plan to hand this planet over to the Institute, I will fight the scheme with every ounce of power I can muster!” 

Hembly’s gaze turned menacing.  “I fulfilled my duty.  We do not welcome ilk spawned by the Institute on this world.  Be warned!  When Halder dies, leave quickly or die!” 

Hembly whipped his horse and rode away. 

Krystal said, “He hates us.”

“Yes.”  Donovan nodded thoughtfully.  “I’d bet he’s not the only one.  Our lives are in the king’s hands, so we’d better tread lightly.  I hope Halder isn’t in touch with the Institute.”     

Krystal said, “Life on Drako may be short but it won’t be dull.” 

Donovan laughed.  “You always notice the bright spots in the situation.  Trenton, nose around the castle and find out who we can trust.”

Trenton nodded.  “Hembly’s plan to endanger our people failed.  I stowed all banned equipment behind stasis shields at the spaceport.  I briefed the crew before we left, so they’ll be safe.”

Donovan frowned.  “I wish you’d told me, but I’m relieved you took precautions.  Chella and Krystal, try to hear thoughts of anyone around us.  Find out who might be friendly.”

Maggie added, “I could always fix Hembly a special dinner, one he wouldn’t forget if he survived.”

“Keep that plan in reserve.”  Donovan flashed a smile and said, “Seriously, the kitchen is a great place to find out bits of information.  You’ll fit in fine.”  He turned to Alexander.  “You may have the most important job, my friend.  Diagnose the king’s ailment and cure him.  We can’t let him die.”

The doctor’s eyes brightened.  “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all we ask.”

As they crested the mountain, a picturesque green valley spread out to the horizon with a fairy tale castle at its center.  Sparkling white turrets reached into the azure sky.  The high wall surrounding the keep was adorned with colorful pennants that fluttered in the stiff breeze.  Farmland radiated out from the castle like the spokes of a giant wheel.  At the far end of the valley a quaint village nestled against the backdrop of a dark green forest. 

Velvety grass and clumps of bright flowers surrounded the castle, protected by a tall garden hedge.  Sunlight danced off the castle spires and fluffy clouds clung to the highest spikes before drifting lazily away.  

“It looks like a painting of old England.”  Donovan savored the scent of smoky hearth fires in the crisp morning breeze.  The rough ride, the rich oxygen, and the primitive landscape could all have come straight from his dreams.  The saddle creaked as his horse shifted weight, eager to respond to his rider’s mood, but restrained by taut reins.  He grasped Krystal’s hand and felt a surge of fear emanating from her.

“Darling, don’t be frightened.  We’re meant to share this life together.”

Krystal smiled.  “I know, but it’s overwhelming and strange.”  They urged their horses into a trot.  Following the winding trail into the valley, a guard edged near Donovan, his eyes darting nervously. 

He said, “Sire, I assure you that not all in this company sympathize with Sir Hembly.  King Halder assigned this task to prevent misfortune from befalling your party along the road.  There are loyal king’s men in this guard.  Men you can count on if the need arises.” 

There was no time to ask questions.  Hembly turned in his saddle and the guard cautiously moved away.  Donovan felt amused to learn that Hembly protected a group he’d rather eliminate.  How it must gall him!  King Halder must be a shrewd character.  Donovan felt encouraged, and eager to meet the king.  He felt sure the king would support them.

*****

Riding through the town, Krystal felt enchanted with the sight of long swishing skirts in rich fabrics; they ballooned out from wasp-like waists of ladies who carried parasols to shade their delicate skin from the heat of the morning sun.  The abundant material made Krystal feel half-naked.  Old women screwed up their faces at the scanty attire the offworld women wore.

The arrival of the spacers was obviously anticipated. Streets grew crowded with people curious to see the strangers.  The castle loomed ahead in its splendor.  Its white walls looked smooth with no visible seams in the highly polished stone.  The public entry gate composed of massive metal panels was filled with scenes from stories.  The breathtaking splendor of the castle with perfect symmetry in the spires and turrets created a graceful grandeur, both pleasing to the eye and functional.  Large enough to harbor the populace of the valley during an emergency, the structure housed pompous courtiers dressed in a mind-boggling variety of attire.

Led into the vaulted throne room by pages dressed in velvet gold tunics, the group walked past courtiers seated in carved wooden chairs nearest the throne.  Krystal noticed the weaponry of the guards standing along the walls, and saw Donovan automatically place his hand on the hilt of the antique saber he wore.

Krystal heard the thoughts of courtiers.  Many worried over the king’s illness while others worried about the spacers.  Who would win the competition to become the next king?  The question filled the minds of everyone as Krystal tried to glean details. 
How will we fit into this strange world?

******

Kriegen followed the evil one, stopping as the human entered the great stone cave.  An ancestor voice told of an earlier visit to this cave.  The ancestor compared this gathering to the Council of Elders.  The humans gathered from far away dens to pay homage to a leader nearing his death.

Does the leader pass his mind into a host?
  Kriegen asked.

The ancestor voice seemed sad. 
Humans do not host their ancestors.

Kriegen pondered.  How could humans exist without the wisdom of their ancestors?  How did knowledge pass from one generation to the next?

Konig approached. 
The two-leg group just entered the great stone cave.  Where should we go now?

Kriegen’s eyes glistened. 
Journey to the pack cave.  Tendra will whelp her cubs soon.  When the cubs are ready, help gather the pack and travel to the summer camp in the tall trees.  We will stay here to observe the rituals of the humans until the pack arrives.