Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest (23 page)

As the upper portion of the wall dropped down, Rowan could see a void beyond it. He held his guttering torch up higher, and the weak light spilled into another chamber behind the descending wall. Within a few moments, the wall had disappeared into the floor, and both men stood in wonder at the hidden chamber before them.

It was circular in shape, approximately fifteen paces in diameter and equally as tall. Eight massive marble plates hung around the perimeter of the room, each one framed by elaborate moldings and bracketed by sconces holding large, ornate oil lamps. Lijah lit one of the lamps, and
Rowan did the same. There was enough light to see that this chamber had been fashioned by craftsmen of remarkable skill. They finished lighting the lamps and gazed around them, awed by the chamber’s beauty.

Rowan walked over to one of the marble plates, his eyes fastened on an exquisitely carved image. It was a detailed scene of a battle between great warriors. Chills ran up and down his spine as he took it in. Rowan put his hand up to touch one figure that stood majestically above the rest. Across a gulf stood another figure equally as powerful, but with a countenance that portrayed a darkened heart.

Rowan went from plate to plate, mesmerized by each one. Each portrayed a grand scene of apparently supreme significance, although the two men could only guess what the significance might be.

“Mosiah,” Lijah called.

Rowan broke his gaze from a plate that depicted a strangely familiar city on a hill skirted by a sea. He walked to the plate that Lijah was inspecting. Two knights wielding swords stood back to back, locked in mortal combat against a seemingly endless sea of enemies. Below the carving were words he had seen before.

“It’s the verse from the scroll your mother gave you,” Rowan said.

Lijah nodded. Rowan began to read it aloud.

Rowan slowly turned and looked at his brother. His grave countenance perfectly expressed what Rowan felt in his heart. Lijah reached out his hand and touched the last word of the verse.

“ ‘Herald and fall,’ ” Rowan repeated. “What does it mean, brother? Are we being sent to our deaths?”

“The Prince said He would be with us to the end,” Lijah said quietly.

“Yes,” Rowan mused, “but what if Chessington is our end?”

Lijah slowly turned his head and looked at Rowan. “Then I can think of no better way to die than in service to our great King,” he said, his voice building confidence with each word.

Rowan didn’t know how to respond.

Lijah put a hand on his shoulder. “Through the ages, everything the King and His Son have promised has come true, and they have promised the people victory over the Dark Knight and his Shadow Warriors. If we fail in this mission, thousands … perhaps tens of thousands will die from his evil hand.”

Lijah paused and Rowan thought on his words.

“To fall can mean many things, Rowan. But if it should mean we die that many others might be saved, then give me ten deaths to die, that all the more might be saved.”

Rowan could not help the smile that crept across his lips. “I am honored to be your brother, Lijah. I doubt there is another knight in the entire kingdom with a heart like yours.”

Lijah met Rowan’s eyes, and a subtle grin flashed across his usually somber face. Then he turned his eyes back to the inscribed verse. “ ‘One marked child with an image,’ ” he read out loud. “I guess it’s your turn.”

Rowan shook his head. “Even if I have an image, how could that help us?”

“I don’t know,” Lijah replied. “But there must be more reason for us to be here than to discover the last few words of the verse. Are you sure you weren’t given an image of some sort?”

Both men turned their eyes back to the marble plate. “Just a birthmark that Mariah—”

Rowan’s gaze fell once more on the scene of knights in combat and he froze. On the armor of one of the knights was an image he had seen before. It looked just like the sketch that Mariah had drawn of his birthmark that night back in Eagle’s Nest.

Rowan reached out to trace his finger around the image on the marble and then pushed. That portion of the marble plate receded inward, and the entire plate began to descend into the floor, just as the wall had done.

What was revealed this time left both of the brothers in awe. The light from the chamber spilled into an alcove that held two magnificent suits of armor and two swords of un-Arrethtraen beauty. Rowan lifted one of the helmets from the armor display stand and held it aloft, amazed at how light it was.

“Remarkable.” Lijah inspected a pauldron that guarded a shoulder of the other suit. “I’ve never seen anything comparable in Arrethtrae, and this is ancient.”

Rowan placed the helmet on his head and lifted the visor. It was a perfect fit. “I don’t think this was made in Arrethtrae,” he said.

Lijah looked over at him and nodded. They donned the armor and lifted the swords and scabbards from their stands in the alcove, then fastened them to their belts. They twisted and turned, enjoying the flexibility and light weight of the armor. Then a silence seemed to fall upon them, and they turned slowly to face each other.

Lijah nodded solemnly at his brother. “Are you ready for this?”

Rowan nodded.

“Our mission begins now”—Lijah extended his arm—“and Chessington awaits.”

Rowan grasped his brother’s arm with an iron grip. “To Chessington.”

CHESSINGTON’S PROMISE

The journey to Chessington took many days. The farther south they journeyed, the more oppressed the people seemed to become. The closer they came to Chessington, the more Rowan felt as if they were slowly entering the lair of a dragon. Each village they entered seemed crowded with skulking men that Rowan was certain were the wicked servants of Lucius, the Vincero Knights. He and Lijah even began to see Shadow Warriors, who did little to hide their identity. Rowan was at first alarmed by their bold appearances, but then he found himself growing indignant. What had begun as a mission of obedience was becoming a true passion of his heart.

When they reached Bremsfeld, Rowan and Lijah tarried there and began to proclaim the Prince to the people on the street who would listen. Crowds gathered, and the people responded dramatically to their bold words. Some cheered, some jeered. A few actually fled with haunted looks on their faces, but more replaced them. After just two hours, it seemed as if the entire town had gathered to hear these two gallant knights speak powerful words of warning, chastisement, and hope.

When they began to denounce the tyranny of Alexander Histen, the city officials became concerned and sent guards to quiet them, but they
would not be quieted. Their passion for the Prince welled up to an unstoppable outpouring of truth.

When they would not remain quiet, eight guards approached with swords drawn. The crowd became alarmed, shouting both blessings and curses at the brothers.

Rowan pointed at the town prefect. “Recall your men, or the sword of the Prince will be against you!”

The prefect sneered and ordered his men to disarm Rowan and Lijah and take them into custody, but that is not what happened. The brothers drew their swords, and the crowd drew back. The guards advanced, but only momentarily. Rowan and Lijah made quick work of the first four guards. The other four pulled back, dragging their wounded comrades with them. Rowan saw fierce-looking men observing from afar.

By this time it was apparent that the people were no longer listening. Rowan and Lijah exchanged a glance, then turned to mount their horses.

“Hear the words of the Prince, people of Bremsfeld,” Rowan shouted above the roar of the crowd. “Those who follow the Prince shall receive His reward, but those who deny the truth of His throne are enemies of the King.”

Then he kicked his horse, and the two brothers rode out of Bremsfeld.

And so they continued their journey south through towns and villages, dividing the hearts of men and women by their bold proclamations. A trek that might have taken but four days became a mission unto itself, for Rowan and Lijah could not shut up their passion for the Prince.

Three more weeks they sojourned in the lands north of Chessington, stopping to speak in Keighwick, Attenbury, Chandril, and many a smaller village. Word of their mission spread across the kingdom before and behind them until the blaze of their words swept across much of Arrethtrae.

The message of the brothers drew many to the Prince and offended
even more, for to hear them speak demanded a response from the souls of those who heard, a response to either follow or reject the Prince. Numerous times they were confronted by guards, Vinceros, and even Shadow Warriors, but none could stand against them, for they wielded their swords as the Prince Himself had, and the armor of the King was impenetrable.

As the days went by, they also began to realize they were not alone. News of the Resolutes’ battle in Cameria had already swept through the kingdom, and Rowan was moved to see Knights of the Prince emerge and rally in response to that courageous stand. The Resolutes’ example added fuel to Rowan’s own purpose as well, and he resolved that the sacrifice of his friends—of his own beloved Mariah—would not be in vain. In his own mission he carried theirs as well.

After the fourth week of travel since leaving Nedehaven, they crested the northern rim of the Chessington Valley. Chills flowed up and down Rowan’s spine as he beheld the great city of the King far below them.

Just beyond the city, over the waters of the Great Sea, rolling thunderclouds flashed lightning back and forth across the sky. A storm was coming. And if the Prince’s words were true, a great storm was coming to Arrethtrae. Standing here, Rowan could sense the terrible evil that had the city in its thrall. And yet he could feel something else … a deep yearning of the King’s people to hear the call of the Prince.

“Where there is great evil, there is even greater good,” Sir Aldwyn had told Rowan once when he was just a boy. At this moment, looking down on Chessington, Rowan felt the truth of that statement in his very bones. Never before in the kingdom of Arrethtrae had people known such tyranny, but that very tyranny made them ache for that greater good … for Him whom they had rejected … for a perfect and good King.

Rowan looked over at Lijah. In the few weeks that they had journeyed, proclaimed, and fought together, he had come to know his brother more deeply than brothers who had lived a lifetime together, and he was grateful for the opportunity to stand beside such a man.

Lijah looked back at Rowan. The soberness of their duty and the reality of what it meant to the lives of countless others in the kingdom stole away their smiles, but not their joy.