The Faerion (9 page)

They made a sled for Holder's body. "I believe there is an old trail to the east that bypasses the Troll land. We shall make for it."

"I think Crestan went back the way we came. Won't the trolls be waiting?"

Kirkes grinned, spurred his horse as they found the trail down the mountain into Calendia.

It had been difficult to keep Estes moving in the proper direction. He seemed to be wrestling with the notion that he could succor the castle from the Baron if he could get back to the soldiers. Navir shook his head and grasped the prince by his elbow, leading him through the thickening wood. They headed west to the mountains. Beyond the mountains lay Arda, Navir's homeland and the home to all Daerlan in Anavar. Navir did not wish to return to Arda without the Faerion but Estes needed a place to hide and plan the overthrow of the Baron. Overthrow the King, now. King Yeates was dead and Treteste was king. Treason would mean death in King Treteste's eyes and his insanity had grown daily over the last few years, an unholy combination. It meant torture before death under Treteste's reign. Navir did not care. One Man or another did not impact the Daerlan. However, he worried about his daughter. Daughter. I have never thought about her as my daughter before. Could I ever tell her the truth? Could she forgive me for not raising her? She seems so Man in many ways.

Navir found he had many worries. He could find food, but Estes did not appear to know much forestry. Navir guessed he would last a week or two on his own. The mild weather helped but water was scarce in this part of the forest. The trees spread wide over the rocky terrain. Once they crossed the mountains the forests would be close and damp. Navir did not like confinement and he felt confined by his charge from Wynne. His opinion of Estes was low and he tried to reassess the young man as they traveled. Unfortunately, there was nothing to change his original evaluation. He calculated the time for the journey to Arda and his tolerance of the young man. The trip would be too long.

"Hurry up, Estes. I can't wait for you."

"I'm doing my best," puffed the prince.

"Your best will get us killed."

"I am your prince..."

"Quiet. You are not my prince, nor shall you ever be. And right now, you are no one's prince. Move as silently as you can. I do not expect them to know we are here but if Treteste sent trackers the sound might carry to them."

They reached a secluded area five miles northwest of Stormridge where they camped. Navir knew they had escaped without leaving a trail, despite the prince. The Daerlan neared exhaustion, covering tracks for two travelers and moving at the pace he desired. Navir opened his pack and began to prepare a small fire.

"Navir, we must go back. I must avenge my father's murder." Estes sounded certain but he was breathing heavy and bent over, his hands on his knees.

"No. That is senseless at the moment. We do not have the numbers. We would be executed in Treteste's presence by tomorrow morning. We have discussed this already." He filled a small pot with water from his pouch and sprinkled in herbs.

"I cannot let that beast take my father's crown. The thought of it makes me vomit."

Navir rolled his eyes. "He already has it. No amount of whining will change that," said Navir. He stirred the soup pot with an arrow.

"Whining!?" He moved as if to gain his feet, but Navir did not notice the movement. Estes leaned back again, crestfallen.

"You have to plan carefully, as the Baron did, to realize your goal. You cannot dash off into the fray without some plan." They sat quietly as the soup heated. Once he was satisfied Navir removed it from the fire and poured the green soup into cups. Estes looked long at his cup, sniffed it, wrinkling his nose.

"I do not whine." His voice was lower, speaking slow and clear.

Navir shook his head, cursing his fate; to be homeless and a nursemaid for a coddled prince. Prince of Men, he corrected. Navir was a prince himself, and the Daerlan were of a far nobler race. Yet, he found occasional employment as a healer in the service of King Yeates, a distasteful enterprise at best but it honed his skills. There were few on Anavar who could match Navir as a healer but he was disgusted at the necessity of his talents.

Now the prince was king in truth although Treteste was king in fact. King Estes. Navir thought about that for a while. King Estes. He hoped there was much about Estes he did not know for what he did know would crumble the kingdom. Calendia would be in ruins similar to its southern neighbor Wierland. It is no easy task to rule a kingdom.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Estes, slurping his soup.

"Arda. To the city of Evenlight. King Oalaria rules from there. It is a safe place."

"Safe?"

"You won't have to wonder who supports Treteste and who doesn't. Oalaria should help you set up a government in exile. He has spoken ill of Treteste and his hunting parties; killing more than they could use and leaving the rotting carcasses in the forests. For all his bluster, even Treteste would not attack Daerlan. In Arda you can build your support until you are ready to take on Treteste. Take heed; move slowly and do not risk all you are building. You may only have one chance to regain your father's crown."

Estes nodded. "I hear your words. It will be difficult to have such patience."

"Talk to Oalaria. Sometimes I think he invented the concept of patience. He can help you, but he is proud and fickle with his approval. Always be forthright with him. He asks questions whose answers he already knows."

"Just to trip you up?"

"For no other reason."

"Why should I be honest with one so devious?"

"Because he holds all the power and without him, you are a wandering man without a country."

"I will think on what you say," said Estes.

"That is more than I hoped," muttered Navir.

They dropped into a ravine and followed it through the grasping brambles, moving slowly to reduce noise. Navir stopped, placing a hand on Estes' chest. The prince barely resisted the urge to slap it away, and then he too, heard the music. They listened in silence.

"What are they doing out here?" asked Navir.

"Looking for me, no doubt," whispered Estes. "Spies of Treteste's."

Navir did not acknowledge that comment. He half hoped Treteste's men did wait for them so he could deliver the prince to them and be out of his misery. Treteste probably did not care about Estes now that the crown was his. Treteste probably thought him of no consequence and he wouldn't be far wrong. Navir remembered Wynne's words and calmed himself. Estes was important and necessary; he told himself. Treteste might not hunt for Estes but he certainly would have given orders for him to be killed if found. Once Estes was delivered to a safe haven, Navir could then vanish. Vanish. The word even sounded wonderful.

Navir used his magic to slightly alter Estes' face. His nose appeared longer and his brow thick and hairy, while a thin beard covered his chin. Navir could not change the prince's height or manner, but he should not be easily recognized.

"My face tingles." He touched it and felt over his nose. "What did you do?"

"Nothing you can feel with your fingers. There is a glamor over your appearance making you less like Estes. Do not worry it isn't permanent but no one but a strong wizard could see through it."

"Thank you," said Estes.

"What? Oh. You're welcome", replied Navir.

Reaching the minstrels took longer than Estes anticipated. The sound carried strangely in the forest. He saw six of them, brightly dressed, not a forester among them. There were four men and two women, practicing their performance.

Navir walked boldly into their camp. Estes cursed and hid behind a tree, waiting for the Daerlan to be killed.

"Navir? Is it really you?" The man wore blue breeches and a red shirt. A yellow feather stuck out of his blue cap. The others did not break their practice.

"Yes. It is good to see you, Apal. Are your companions old friends or new?"

"New. However, one of the ladies may enter my confidence soon." He grinned. His perfect teeth framed by a jet-black goatee. His hair was long and grey at the temples; his upper body was massive; unusual for a minstrel.

"Ah, good for you." Navir slapped him on the back. Apal grinned, and then his face turned serious.

"I heard you were with King Yeates."

"I was."

"But.."

"I escaped. Treteste is king now, I wager."

"Yes, I'm afraid you are correct. News travels fast, even out here. Are you well?"

"No injury. I am traveling with a young man, rescued from the siege. I think you will know him, but do not speak his name. He's a little hot-headed." Apal opened his eyes wide.

"Ah, that is good news, Navir. I did not know how we would oppose Treteste. He wields a powerful sword. This will be a great boost."

"I am glad you are happy. I will turn him over to you. I detest his company."

"He was spoiled as a child."

"He's not changed, then," laughed Navir. "Tell me, what other news?"

"There is a group of nobles opposed to Treteste. They speak of treason with vehemence. They need someone to unite them and lead them. Presently, their identities are guarded, but they want to move quickly before Treteste solidifies his position."

"It appeared solid at Stormridge."

"Yet in Nantitet his name is spoken in disdain. The key to Treteste is Sir Kirkes."

"How so?"

"Kirkes is so great a fighter that no single man can overcome him. No man, not even me. If Treteste calls for a fight of Champions, he will always win. Kirkes is a man of high honor and respected by everyone. It would be difficult to find someone to set archers in wait of Kirkes, yet such warfare is necessary."

"Interesting. I had no idea your honor would extend so far. Is there not some mercenary who would undertake such a thing?"

"Presumably, but it cannot become common knowledge. The people of Calendia idolized Kirkes. If the killer becomes linked to nobility, the people will riot. I do not doubt it. If Kirkes is to die, it must appear fair and in the normal course of his activities. Assassination benefits no one."

"What about the field of battle? Can two or more defeat him? Or a stray arrow?"

"That is our best hope, yet it is uncertain at best. If your companion seeks the throne then Kirkes could recognize the right to rule."

"Kirkes was there when Treteste killed Yeates. Where was the recognition of the right to rule?" asked Navir.

Apal sighed. "It is difficult at best. I am not sure what to do. However, I must do something or nothing will change."

"That is true. Let me bring my companion down. I think he's been hiding long enough."

Navir turned and waved to Estes. At last, the prince came slowly into the camp eyeing each of them as if they would knife him. "This is Rapert," said Navir, giving Estes a false name.

"I'm Apal, leader of this troupe. Please be welcome Rapert."

"Thanks." Estes looked hard at Apal, but no memory triggered. Apal tried not to notice the scrutiny, calling to the others to join them for their midday meal. Two were dressed in close fitting garments to allow for acrobatics and juggling. The younger of the two was a girl with dark hair. She caught Estes' eyes immediately. The singers wore loose clothing with long sleeves and capes for accenting their music. The tall blond woman walked to Apal and interlocked arms.

"Let me introduce the jugglers, Reber and Deenie. And the singers, Kelia, Gora and this is Melana. Melana and I play lutes. If the crowd is tolerant, I sing too. Where are you two bound?"

"Rapert spoke of seeing my homeland, and with the countryside in such turmoil and the two of us without work, I thought now was a fine time to travel."

"Well and good. Stay and sup with us. We have bread and cheese and mulled wine. No joint of beef I'm afraid, but work is limited at the moment. We hope to have a chance to perform for the king."

"The king is dead," said Rapert.

"The new king," said Apal, easily. He watched Rapert's face pale, and saw the tension in the jaw. "Navir, your friend shows his emotion too well. It may land him in trouble. Treteste is king, now, Rapert. He will not be tolerant of those who oppose him. And his spies are everywhere. Careful you don't find yourself minus your head. It's very awkward to continue living that way."

Rapert nodded mutely, still distrusting his voice. Navir watched closely, surprised at Estes' silence, but pleased just the same.

They all gathered round to eat. Apal served the ladies first, then the guests, the other men, and himself last. There was plenty for everyone. Afterward, Apal whispered to Melana who got her lute and played. Her voice soared to the tops of the trees. Estes did not seem interested, but Navir found it wonderful.

"You do not appreciate Melana's talents, Rapert?" asked Apal.

"She's a singer. That is not the life for a respectable person and especially not a lady."

"Who said I'm a lady?" asked Melana. She winked at Apal who covered his mouth with his hand. Estes blushed.

"We are common people. This is all we know. This is our life. What else would you have us do?"

"Find respectable work."

Navir laughed. Estes scowled at him.

"You have fixated on your opinion of 'respectable', Rapert," said Apal. "Despite your Daerlan companion you seem to be a noble, and in trouble from what I hear."

"What did you mean about his companion?" asked Navir. "There was more than 'Daerlan' in your words."

"Come, Navir. Everyone knows your contempt for the kings of Men, especially their coddled children. The fact that Rapert is with you might throw your enemies off his trail for they would never believe him to be a noble. That is until, he opens his mouth."

"How dare you!" shouted Estes, pushing Apal. Suddenly, Estes found himself on his back with Apal's sword at his throat.

"I am trying to teach you a lesson, Rapert," said Apal. "I was hoping I didn't have to be so blunt. You are on the run. If you speak like nobility you will be caught and killed. Treteste does not allow surprises in his world. If there is potential for a situation or person to undermine what he wants, he removes it without conscience. You must submerge your arrogance and your pride. Do not call attention to yourself. They will kill you. Remember that. Remember. If you do not behave like the common folk you seem to despise, you will die. And I will not be sorry for many reasons."