Once Upon a Time: Chronicles of Acharn.
By Sealie
filled with fond respect for Hans
Christian Andersen, the Grimm Brothers and a dollop of Terry Pratchett
The
story came about simply because a little friend wanted a night time story…
Once upon a time a long, long time ago, the Chieftain of the Northern
Lands faced down the evil Magician Brack with the help of his Sentinel. After
aeons of oppression the people of the Land celebrated their deliverance by
elevating their chief to King. The Sentinel stood by the King’s side and
protected him as he sought to secure their new Land. Together no force of evil
could defeat them. And the House of Sandburg ruled with honour and a caring
hand with the assistance of the Sentinels of d’Ellison for a
millennia.
Until…
Chapter I.
Presenting His Royal Highness, Prince Blair
‘Blair was a very lonely little prince. Plenty of people wanted to be
his friend but only because he was the prince and not because he was a nice
person. When he grew up he was going to be king; and he knew that it would
probably be worse then.’
Blair
rubbed his nose with the cuff of his worn tunic. He snuggled further into his
alcove with his book. The small nook was a perfect size for a small prince, and
if he retreated to the right and to the back of the alcove by the loophole
windows, it would take a man with a long arm to winkle him out.
His D’neirf kit, ‘Leya, cuddling close into this hip,
purred.
Absently, Blair scratched the kit’s ears. ‘Leya was his one true friend, a
little jet-black catling. The D'neirf could almost be considered a kitten since
she didn't seem to be growing up. It probably had something to so with the fact
that there was only one family of D’neirf kits in the castle... inbreeding
don't’cha know. His Royal Mother, Queen Naomi, said that the kits were a symbol
of what happened when you married too close within the Royal Family -- that and
your teeth dropping out.
Blair
burrowed further into his pile of cushions listening with half an ear for the
librarian, Seah, who had popped out of the library for a moment. He liked
books, especially the fantasy series about the strange warrior in the mythical
city of
In
honesty, Blair was the loneliest of princes, but he didn’t know enough to
understand loneliness. All he knew was that there was something missing and he
hadn’t found it in his books.
A
light cough interrupted him and Blair looked up into very icy blue eyes. He
stared up at the stalwart man through a veil of tumbled curls. Blair gnawed on
his thumbnail. His ever-so precise tutor had taught him the heraldry of the
"The
librarian went to the privy," Blair said tremulously. "Seah will be
back in a little while."
He
stuck his nose back in his book and pretended to read until the big man went
away.
He
was such a little bookworm that he probably would have missed the attentions of
a possible friend.
Pensive,
Blair carefully stroked his kit’s ears. The young laird had retreated from the
library, his eyes flashing glacial fire. Blair could not guess why the big man
was angry. All he had said was that the librarian was away.
"What
do you think, ‘Leya?" he asked the kit.
She
batted her good eye as she essayed a shrug, her other eye had never quite
worked properly.
Blair
struggled to his feet, kit in one hand and massive tome in another. He was at a
quandary. The library no longer seemed like a refuge – since big burly lairds
could come in and interrupt him. They never normally came into the bastion of
study. The morning sunlight shafting through the library’s stained glass
windows beckoned. On tiptoes, he crept to the bookstack beneath, and then
viewing the heights with trepidation, he set ‘Leya on the highest shelf he
could reach. Painfully, he climbed up the stacks moving first kit then book
until he reached the top.
Determined,
he crawled across the stack, opened the small window and crept onto the garret.
It was precarious. Heart in his mouth, he inched towards a flat piece of roof,
partially protected by an overhang. The morning sun had warmed the corner to a
comfortable temperature. ‘Leya mewled once and then settled down purring
contentedly.
~*~
He
was engrossed in his book – happily lost in the whimsical story of a Giant
called Fi-Fie-Fum when he heard shouting. Carefully, so as not to damage his
beloved book, he set it down.
Cross-legged,
Blair viewed his domain. He could spy on the entire castle. It wasn’t the
highest point in the castle. The turret towers afforded a better view, but he
could see straight into the courtyard. The great hall and the kitchen windows
were on the south and west walls. In the hall, through the windows, he could
see the maids bustling through their day.
The
castle was a sprawling warren built over a thousand years. He knew from his
lessons that the castle sat atop of a mountain called Goodrich. The castle
stood sentinel, protecting the
The
ladies were sunning themselves in the solar watching the young Lords practising
armed combat in the central courtyard.
That
must have been where the shouting came from.
Into
their midst strode Laird Jamie.
Tiny
squires scattered before him as he arrowed towards Lord Lash. His sword flashed
in his hand promising murder.
Prince
Blair’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like Lord Lash; he was too proud of himself.
He always wore the most fashionable of clothes and he liked to tease. And he
was two-faced. Blair blushed; when he had been the most littlest of princes
toddling in the great hall looking for his mummy, Lord Lash had caught him up
in the folds of a smelly bag and locked him in the dungeons. He had eventually
managed to crawl out of the bag. Scared and faced with the old spider bewebbed
rack, he had wet himself.
Lord
Lash got yelled at after the bodyguards had found him. But everyone had looked
very disappointed when they realised that he had soiled his nappy.
A
howl echoed off the castle walls. Laird Jamie stood over Lash who was coiled in
a ball at his feet.
Blair
was too far away to hear anything other than overtones of anger. Laird Jamie
jabbed his sword at the prissily dressed Lash.
‘Wow,’
Blair thought. ‘The laird is big enough to pick on bullies.’
He
didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Blair
crept forwards over the roof, trying to overhear. The tiles under his fingers
were wet and slimy. The D’neirf kit at his side meowed a question.
"I
just want to see what’s happening. I am the Prince, you know. I’m supposed to
know what’s about. Well, that’s what the tutor says."
He
crawled forwards another step.
It
was inevitable.
With
a single ‘eeeeeeeeeeeek’ he tumbled head over heels and over the edge of the
roof.
Curiosity
killed the cat
Scrabbling
as if a kit he managed to grab the sharp edge of the gutter. He swung
helplessly, unable to reach up and grip with his other hand.
"Mama!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
There
was a horrified shout from beneath him. Staring transfixed down between his
little narrow feet he could see the palace militia looking up at him,
horrified. For some weird reason Lord Lash held his sword point upwards.
Jamie
growled at the man and smacked him over the head. Lash dropped to the ground
poleaxed.
Frightened
out of his wits, Blair froze. His fingers locked.
~*~
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he was so scared. The D’neirf kit meowed and
batted his hand with a delicate talon. Then with an elegant sniff, ‘Leya turned
and left.
He
was abandoned. His heart sank to new depths. Nobody loved him.
Beneath
him the guards ran backwards and forwards trying to figure out what to do. His
Grace the Duke of Rafe ran into Sa’Leem Henri and they fell over each other
squawking. Librarian Seah with the Duchess Michelle were fighting with an
unwieldy ladder while the men were beside themselves.
There
was an ominous creak and the gutter gave way.
Rock
hard fingers wrapped around his wrist before he had fallen even a hairsbreadth.
He was suspended, the wind whistling in his ears. With the kind of strength
that bordered on the supernatural, he was hauled upwards. Dangling by one arm
he stared into the concerned blue eyes of Laird Jamie. A slow, devastating
smile crossed the laird’s face. Timorously, Blair smiled back at his saviour.
‘Leya
was perched on the top of Jamie’s head, clinging to his ears with needle sharp
claws. She looked very satisfied with herself.
"I’ve
got you and I won’t let you go," Jamie promised.
~*~
Strong
arms held him against the expanse of a broad chest. Prince Blair lay,
quiescent, as the laird made his way back over the roof. He was tucked in the
fold of plaid over the laird’s chest, safe and secure as Jamie made his way,
sure-footed, over the rooftops.
Jamie
crouched down next to the library window. "Here he is…"
Blair
didn’t protest as he was passed through the window into the waiting arms of the
librarian. Her soft curly hair smelled sweet against his cheek as she held him.
But it was for just a moment and then he was passed down into the care of the
physician.
The
physician didn’t give him a cuddle. She set him on the library table and then
shook her finger under his nose.
"Did
you hurt yourself?"
Meekly,
Blair held up his hand showing her a scrape.
"Poor
thing." Cynthia Louise patted his face and neck and ran her fingers down
his arms. He had another scrape on his knee.
Blair
submitted to her poking and prodding.
"He’s
fine," Cindy announced to the throng of people staring at them.
"Nothing that a bath and a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Where’s his
nursemaid?"
"I’ll
take him," Duchess Michelle said. She was one of Queen Naomi’s
ladies-in-waiting. She normally looked after his mama. "When the bodyguard
saw his Highness in danger, one guard went looking for Lady Cassandra. Cassie
turned out to be asleep in her bed, when she should have been watching his
Highness. She had been drinking."
Everyone
oooohed in mannerly dismay. Rafe said something behind his hand to Sa’Leem
Henri, who nodded wisely.
‘Leya,
sitting on top of one of the stacks, meowed as she licked her paws with a
forked tongue. For some peculiar reason she looked very pleased with herself.
~*~
Everyone sitting comfortably? So where were we? Why was Cassie being so
nasty to the young prince? Would you be scared in a castle where Lash lived?
Questions, questions, questions.
~*~
Prince
Blair sat waist deep in warm soapy water. He grabbed a handful of bubbles and
blew. Perfect spheres floated through the air. One touched the Duchess
Michelle’s hair and disappeared in a sparkle.
Cassie
always gave him cold baths. Warm baths were much more fun.
"Where’s
mama?"
Duchess
Michelle knelt beside the bath and rubbed a soapy flannel over his face.
"Your
mama’s in conference with his majesty, the Wizard Sultan Simon
Siddiq’Banks."
"Oh."
Blair let the bubbles fall back in the water. "Will she be finished
soon?"
"Soon,"
Michelle soothed. She dropped a kiss on his head, just like mama.
The
D’neirf perched on the edge of the bath, reached down and patted the water. Her
face screwed up and she jumped off the bath and disappeared.
"‘Leya!"
Blair howled but she was out of the door and away.
"Shush."
Michelle stroked his cheek. "Cats don’t like water. She’ll be back."
"Milady?"
An unfamiliar voice called from the other room. "The Queen requires your
presence."
"One
moment, Maya. I’m seeing to Prince Blair."
Blair
wiggled a wet, soapy, slippery ball as the duchess lifted him out of the bath.
She set him down on a fur in front of the glowing log fire. He laughed as she
tickled him with a soft towel.
"You’re
much nicer than Cassie," he said as she dried his curls.
"Why’s
that?" Her Grace asked as she knelt beside him.
"Cassie
wasn’t nice," Blair said with typical childlike non-explanation.
"Your
Grace, the Queen insisted. She wants you to ‘read’ his Majesty
Siddiq’Banks."
Lady
Michelle rubbed him dry briskly and then directed him to sit on the footstool
beside the fire. The poultice that she smeared on his cut knee and hand smelled
of milt and spiders’ webs. She carefully wrapped both in white cloths.
"Time
for bed."
"NO!"
Blair objected. It was not time for bed; even if he had had an exciting day.
"’Leya’s not here."
"Your
Grace!" Maya sounded upset.
"Tell
her majesty that I will be there as soon as I settle her son. It will have no
impact on when I read the Wizard Sultan – assuming that I can. The treaty will
not be signed until tomorrow."
She
wrestled him into new soft, footed pyjamas, picked him up, bracing him against
one hip and then carried him to his suite.
~*~
Gather around the campfire and cuddle up close. Are you listening? Well,
if you remember, the evil Cassie had been ousted and Blair was safe and warm
with a new caregiver. But who or what is responsible for this horrible state of
affairs...?
~*~
The
Story continues….
Blair
bounced on the bed. He looked up through curling lashes at his new nurse. He
essayed another little bounce.
The
Lady Michelle’s eyebrow rose and a smile skipped across her lips. She squashed
it.
"Bedtime,
Prince Blair."
"D’neirf’s
not here. Can’t sleep. Simply, can’t sleep. No ‘Leya. Sad turn of
affairs." He sighed dramatically.
The
Duchess pulled back the covers. Reluctantly, Blair crawled over the quilt.
"Oh,
by The Sentinel!" the Duchess blasphemed. "You cannot sleep in this
bed!"
Blair
was plucked from the grimy blankets, braced once more against her hip. He looked
down at the bed, trying to see what had upset her. Her hand was clasped over
his eyes and he was carried from the room.
"What’s
the matter?" he asked plaintively.
She
set him down on his feet outside in the corridor. The cold stones bit his toes.
The duchess looked annoyed but almost hurt; what was the matter?
"My
Lady, what is the problem?"
Both
prince and duchess turned to see Laird Jamie striding down the corridor. His
hand rested casually against his sword hilt.
"James,
my boy, will you look after the prince? I need to speak with the Queen."
Blair
allowed himself to be picked up and passed over to the tall Lord. The warrior
held him easily with one arm beneath his legs, keeping his other hand free.
Blair fingered the gay plaid wrapped around the Lord’s shoulders. A bright
brooch caught his eye. The wolf motif was beautifully wrought from a juniper’s
horn.
"What
is the problem?"
"Prince
Blair’s had his bath – he just needs to sleep in another room." She
stared at him pointedly.
Confused,
Jamie nodded. Seeing his acquiescence, she briskly bounded down the corridor,
holding her skirts high (displaying her ankles – shock horror). With a frantic
skip step, she turned down another corridor and was out of sight.
Jamie
shrugged, moving Blair. He had never been part of a shrug before; he liked it.
"What
happened?" the laird ventured.
Blair
shrugged and was disappointed when the laird didn’t move.
The
warrior cast a, quite frankly, curious look into the room….
"If
I put you down, could you just stand here for a moment?" Jamie crouched,
setting him on the floor.
"Yeth,"
Blair said at his beguiling best. Projecting utter innocence, he clasped his
hands behind his back and stared into the crouching laird’s eyes. The warrior’s
eyes were a blinding blue like the glacial lakes in the
Incredibly,
the laird fell for it.
Blair
crept behind him back into his bedchamber. The four poster bed was hidden
behind the royal purple drapes. Laird Jamie had his sword out. Blair’s soft
footie pyjamas made no noise. He kept his hands clasped over his mouth, holding
his breath.
Jamie
moved forward with cat-like precision. Gingerly, he pushed back the blankets
with the point of his sword.
"UGH!"
Jamie
leapt backwards, barely missing the prince.
"What?
What? What is it?" Blair said eagerly.
"How
did you do that?" Jamie demanded. "I should have heard you."
Blair
blinked, confused by the question.
The
laird scooped him up, and swung him over one shoulder. Blair got a clear view
of the bed from his perch as they bolted from the room.
It
looked like a large black spider’s web.
~*~
They
ran pell-mell down the corridor. Maya squealed and fell back into the privy as
they pushed by her. Blair could hear her yelling very long, convoluted words
long after they should have been out of earshot.
Indefatigable,
Jamie dashed up a spiral staircase, taking the stairs three at a time. A door
swung open before them and then slammed shut a hairsbreadth behind them as they
slipped through.
Blair
was dumped on the spartan bed in the corner. It was so hard he didn’t even
bounce once.
"Lock
the door!"
Blair
watched fascinated as the key turned in the lock of its own accord.
"Thanks,
Becky."
There
was a whisper of an answer that Blair didn’t catch. He listened with all his
heart and soul and heard…
::…you’re welcome::
Jamie
was breathing harshly and there were bright pink spots high on his cheekbones.
And he was standing very, very still.
"What’s
wrong?" Blair asked, very quietly. He clambered off the bed and stopped
beside the deathly still laird. He was staring away into the faerie lands.
Blair patted his protector’s hand, but he remained stock-still.
::He’s in the Goddess’ hand:: came the whisper.
"I
don’t understand." He looked around for the source of the voice. "Are
you a ghost?"
::Yes::
"What’s
it like being a ghost?"
::JIM:: The
spirit directed his attention back to the frozen warrior.
Blair
reached up and rubbed the laird’s stomach. There was no response. "Is he
poorly?"
::The Goddess has taken him away to soothe his hurts. You can bring him
back::
"What’s
hurt?" Blair said practically.
::His ears. He listens too hard::
Blair
mulled over that for a heartbeat. Then his practical nature at the fore, he
pulled across the only chair in the room to the young laird’s side. He stood on
it, reached up and clasped his hands over the warrior’s hurting ears.
"I
had earache once," Blair said conversationally. "Mama gave me a
cuddle. She put warm oil in my ear. Do you have any oil? Should I give him a
cuddle?"
::Talk to him::
"But
I’ve got my hands over his ears," he said logically.
::Talk to him the same way you’re talking to me::
::HIYA::
Blair thought loudly.
A
pain filled shudder passed along the laird’s long frame.
::Hullo::
he modulated his ‘voice’. ::Can you hear me?::
"Whrrr?"
the laird breathed.
::You
ran away? Why did you run away? Why are we here?:: Despite his best attempts he
couldn’t help a tiny whine.
"Ssshhhh."
The warrior focused on him immediately. His pale blue eyes softened.
Blair
pulled his hands down and nibbled on his thumbnail, waiting for the laird to
speak.
"You’re
fine."
Since
he was standing on the chair, Jamie didn’t have to crouch to look at him. It was
nice the way that Jamie looked at him when he talked to him.
"You’re
safe here. I’ll protect you and Becky will help."
An
ethereal kiss touched his cheek.
Jamie
picked him up and set him on the edge of the hard bed. He watched as the laird
pulled back the old, soft sheets.
"Ups
a daisy." Jamie smiled.
Obediently,
Blair climbed in. He allowed the big warrior to tuck in the blankets.
"Why?"
Blair twisted his fingers through the laird’s jerkin and gripped. "Why are
you scared? Why is it bad? What’s the matter?"
"Shush."
"NO,"
Blair said defiantly.
Reluctantly,
Jamie settled beside the bed, still allowing Blair to hold onto the sleeve.
"Sometimes
people want to hurt princes."
"Like
the elves?" Blair questioned.
"Elves?
Elves don’t hurt people. They’re step beyond and to the left. Might tease,
might be hard to understand…" Jamie shrugged, confused.
"Bad
elves?" Blair clarified.
"Beansidhe?"
Blair
nodded eagerly.
"Who
told you about the DhuSidhe? The Bad Elves," Jamie clarified.
‘Oh, dear.’ Blair
curled up in a ball. Cassie had told him never to tell mama about the stories.
Did that include big warriors?
"Blair?
Your Highness?" The soft entreaty made him uncurl.
"Cassie
made me promise! She said I shouldn’t tell. She said bad things would
happen!"
Jamie
went as white as a sheet. His eyes narrowed. There was dark cloud of fury
hanging over his head. Blair watched it seethe with wide scared eyes.
"No,
no, no," Jamie responded instantly. "I’m not annoyed at you. I’m
annoyed at Cassie."
Jamie’s
teeth ground together audibly in the tiny chamber.
"Blair."
With a single finger, Jamie gently touched his chin and lifted until their eyes
met. "Cassie was bad. She shouldn’t have told you scary stories. You don’t
do that to little boys…"
"I’m
almost six!" Blair pouted.
Jamie
nodded and the dark cloud lightened.
"There
are certain things you don’t do until you’re old enough. I haven’t been told
the keywords to the d’Ellison’s archives – I’m not old enough." Jamie
thumped his chest. "When I’m twenty one, my father will pass on the magic
that Grandfather Ellis passed to him when he was twenty one. If I was given the
keywords now, it could be very dangerous. My father has the responsibility not
to tell me the keywords no matter how much he wants to give up their weight.
For Cassie to tell you about the DhuSidhe meant that she disavowed her
responsibilities. And that means that she was bad."
That
was a lot to think about, Blair reflected pensively. Robyn said that he was cleverer
than the humans would guess, and all they would see was a little boy.
"Robyn
said that Cassie was rotten. I told the bodyguard but he laughed. Cassie
spanked me."
"Robyn?"
Jamie’s brow furrowed as tried to remember the names of the castle maids and
other staff.
"The
oak in the courtyard," Blair supplied.
"You
talk to trees?" Jamie said incredulously.
"Nobody
believes," Blair said petulantly. "I *talked* to you."
~*~
Ooooh, the plot thickens. Who set the Veb in the prince’s bed? Why did
Cassie tell Prince Blair nasty stories? Well, if you all snuggle down and
listen I will continue the story…
~*~
Presenting Lord James, Laird Jamie of the Ellison Clan
Tutors
from far flung corners of the lands outside the fealty of Queen Naomi had
taught him such diverse topics as astronomy to the physicians’ doctrines. He
had little inclination to learn the arcane and mystical, but he had achieved a
measure of competence, otherwise he would not be a d’Ellison.
He
had been twelve years old when the Queen had gifted the Land with an heir. At
the time, page in her service, he had watched over the royal crib while she had
dealt with affairs of state. Nanny Pill, the royal nurse, had been getting on
in years, and had been essentially useless.
With
her cackling advice he had learnt to change breech cloths, soothe greeting
babies and, when the prince had started to toddle, develop eyes in the back of
his head. Watching over his younger brother had not prepared him for looking
after an active toddler with the curiosity of a bag full of kittens.
Then
Lord Ellis had called him back to the estate to continue training under his
vigilant eye. He had no qualms about speaking to the Queen on the eve of his
departure. Informing her majesty of the borderline senility of the young
prince’s royal nurse had been a necessity, since he was leaving. The Queen had
been beside herself, retiring the nurse and assigning the trainee chatelaine,
Cassandra, to care for the prince. The laird had left for home without a
backward glance.
His
Lord had decreed that he should return to court and learn politics at the heart
of the Land after his eighteenth birthday. Dutifully, he had obeyed. Members of
the court flocked to his side, drawn to his confidence and prospects. They
meant little to him. They didn’t want him, they only wanted pieces of him.
The
young prince didn’t remember him. In fact trying to get a word out of the
prince was a bit like trying to get blood from a stone. The only thing that the
prince talked to was the warped little D’neirf kit, ‘Leya. How the prince had
found and been adopted by one of the habitually secretive kits was a mystery.
That the crown prince was a repressed mouse was disturbing, more so was the
fact that this was unremarked upon. The Queen had been distant since he had
returned from the highlands. When the Wizard Sultan arrived, she had
practically entered solitude. A few of the wags in court had spoken about the
uncommon amount of time the two rulers had spent together.
There
was something amiss in the court. His nascent gifts made his skin crawl as if
spiders walked over his skin. When he reached his prime, he would be initiated
into the Sect of the Sentinel. That was three years hence. Three years before
he would take on the mantle of The Sentinel, protectors of the lands of Acharn.
As ancestral protectors of the kingdom it was the d’Ellisons’ responsibility to
get to the root of the evil hanging like a sword of Damocles over the Queen
and, of course, the Prince. Most disturbing was that his father, William, and
his Grandfather, Ellis, had not returned to court. If something threatened the
Land they should have been aware of the menace.
Troubled,
he had taken to walking the corridors at night and interrogating the servants
at every opportunity. On one hand he was sure that there was evil afoot, on the
other he knew that if the Queen, and by default the Land, was in danger, the
d’Ellisons should have descended on the court. Their very absence meant that
there was no threat. His senses told him otherwise. And the conflict disturbed
him.
~*~
Everyone comfortable? If you remember Jamie had rescued the prince from
something horrible – even though he really shouldn’t have gone into the room...
But I digress... The boys had ran pell-mell to the Laird Jamie’s strangely
spartan room.
~*~
Now
the laird sat beside the young prince trying to soothe the child when he felt
little more than a child himself.
Blair’s
truculent pout, verging on the edge of tears, touched his quick.
"I
believe you." He did, he didn’t understand but he believed the young
prince.
The
glistening eyes brightened. Blair shifted on the bed. "Robyn is very wise.
She tells me lots of stuff. Maybe she’ll know what the black thingy was?"
"Black
thingy?"
"In
my bed."
The
blood turned to ice water in his veins. The Veb had terrified him, and he had
run like a rabbit. At least he had protected his charge. A Veb – he had
believed that the art of creating the blood curse had been lost when the Mage
Brack had died a thousand years past.
"Why
were you scared?" The innocent question emasculated him.
"I
wasn’t scared," Jamie said tightly. "They make you sick if you get
too close to them."
"Oh,"
somehow the child put a wealth of meaning into that single utterance.
"The
duchess told me to look after you. It is my duty to protect you. To stay near a
Veb would have meant that I would have failed my duty."
"Oh."
Blair cocked his head to the side and peered up at him through a veil of
tumbled curls.
"Stop
that!" Jamie said indignantly.
An
incredible grin crossed the prince’s face. All teeth and gums, there was a
luminosity in the smile that he hadn’t seen in the weeks since he returned. The
child had smiled like that when he had been a toddler, getting into new things,
teasing the cats and playing in the armoury with the model siege engines.
"JIM!"
Blair shrieked.
Blair
stood up and planted his chubby hands on Jamie’s lightly stubbled cheeks. The
prince leaned forwards until their foreheads almost touched. The dark blue eyes
scrutinised his face. Memories flared in the little round face.
"You’re
Jim!" The voice turned soft and hurt. "You went away."
"My
grandfather wanted me to go home." Arrogance warred with discipline and
bowed to truth. Thirteen year old heirs weren’t supposed to nanny baby princes,
even when the heirs’ grandfathers taught them duty and honour at the knee. A
portion of his soul railed against his grandfather’s order to return, knowing
that his place was at Blair’s side, another portion had enjoyed returning to
the classroom and the company of his peers.
"You
left me with Cassie," came the accusation.
"I
didn’t know," Jim whispered.
Blair
released him, and folded back onto the bed. "I want ‘Leya." He turned
to face the wall.
"I’m
sorry." He said to the hunched back. Tentatively, he reached out. The
prince shrugged away from his touch. Carefully, he gripped a tense shoulder and
drew Blair onto his back. Tears streaked unchecked from the corners of the
prince’s eyes, flowing into the hair at his temples.
"I’m
sorry." Jim pulled the resisting body into his embrace. The child’s fists
drummed against his chest. The laird allowed the abuse. Blair sobbed wildly –
heartfelt, soul destroying sobs. The thumps became gradually weaker as the
prince exhausted himself. A final wail heralded his collapse against the
neophyte sentinel’s chest.
"You
went away," Blair whispered.
"Shush."
Jim stroked the prince’s hair. Hot tears soaked his tabard. Slowly, the cold
and tense body warmed. Snuffling softly, Blair fell asleep, pillowed on his
shoulder.
~*~
A
soft knock interrupted his reflections. Carefully, Jim settled the child on the
bed. Blair murmured fitfully and then snuggled down. Cat soft, Jim padded to
the door, drawing his sword with a silent whisper.
"Becky?"
he hissed.
He
felt a cold breath of wind pass his cheek and ooze through the door.
"Eeeek."
Rafe’s distinctive accent identified him. "Someone pinched my bum!"
He sounded very affronted.
Smiling,
Jim threw open the doorway. Unnerved, Rafe was on his tiptoes scanning the
staircase for his attacker. Sa’Leem Henri had draped himself decoratively over
the banister watched his antics with a superior, knowing smile. Henri put on
airs and graces as he had a few years on Jamie, those seven years brought
maturity, he proclaimed.
"Greetings."
Henri performed a sweeping bow. "The small prince is in your care?"
Jamie
nodded into the chamber, but did not step away from the doorway.
"The
duchess said that you were looking after the prince. Inshalla. She said to tell
you that the webs had been severed." Henri shrugged, apparently unaware of
the ramifications of the message, and unconcerned. The laird saw through his
façade. As adjutant to the Wizard Sultan, the heir to d’Ellison knew that the
same tutors had taught them. One did not survive the lessons of Kelson and
Wolfe without learning; they would have taken it as a personal affront. During
his lessons, Kelson and Wolfe had often held up Henri’s expertise in the
mystical arts, conversing with low elementals or high elementals and command of
alchemy as an example for Jamie to attain.
"And?"
Jim drawled. His sword tip bobbed with an easy, snake-like rhythm.
"New
rooms have been set up for the prince. You are to take him to the Rose
Suite."
Rooms
hereto reserved for the prince when he came of age. They had been King Bran of
the House of Sandburg’s personal quarters before his death. They stood in the
heart of the castle. Bespelled and protected by enchantment they provided a
formidable refuge. The inner court was taking the threat to the prince
seriously.
"So
be it."
Trusting
Henri with his life, Jim turned his back and re-entered his quiet, stark,
peaceful room. His small sojourn was over, he would have to take his place at
the prince’s side before he reached the age of consent – at least until his
father arrived.
The
child was deeply and profoundly asleep. Jim lifted his charge, holding his
sleep-limp body against his chest. Blair’s head rolled neatly into the crook
between Jamie’s shoulder and neck – warm, moist breath brushed his skin. An
involuntary smile touched Jim’s lips.
"He’ll
get cold," Henri said, concerned. He was such a sop.
Jim
endured as the Sa’Leem tucked a worn blanket around the prince’s shoulders.
"How
do you expect me to use my sword?" the laird said practically.
"That’s
what we’re here for." Rafe spun his assassin’s blade in the air. Little
would get by the Duke of Rafe.
~*~
Rafe
sauntered down the corridor, swinging his hips. His stiletto danced across his
fingers, gleaming in the guttering torch light. A dashing figure, swathed in
black velvet, he was an assassin of the finest pedigree. His crushed velvet
jodhpurs moved seamlessly into his black suede thigh boots. His tabard of
finest velvet was scrolled with black embroidery. Many seamstresses had been
driven insane to sew the intricate stitches. The ruff at his throat was dagger
silk. He was an artist’s vision.
"Rafe?"
Henri, keeping watch at Jamie’s back, spoke.
"Yes,
Sa’Leem?" The assassin scanned the corridor.
"You’re
prancing."
~*~
They
passed through three guarded doors into the private suite of rooms. A balcony
in the bedchamber overlooked an arboretum. The inner garden was a peaceful
place. It drew the nascent sentinel, still holding his charge, to the sugar glass
window. A cherry tree, heavy with pollen, filled the air with its scent.
Elaborate patterns were combed in the sand beneath the central tree.
"James?"
Rafe whispered softly.
The
laird smiled as the deadly assassin opened the drapes surrounding Blair’s new
four poster bed. Rafe, Duke of Rafe, assassin to the council of Acharn, fluffed
up the pillows and pulled back the quilt. He patted the clean sheets
enticingly.
Henri
prowled around the room, his scimitar poking into wardrobes and beneath the
bed. Eventually he withdrew to the far corner of the room and sheathed his
weapon. Crossing his arms he made like some kind of exotic statue, his silk
caftans flowing against his trews.
"And
he calls me a poser," Rafe muttered.
"I
heard that, Bertram," Henri said mockingly.
Jamie
managed to twist off the worn blanket, allowing it to fall to the floor. Prince
Blair was a dead weight on his shoulder. Only his chest moved as he breathed
deeply and rhythmically. Practised, Jamie shifted him into his arms, supporting
his head. The child mumbled, flinging an arm against the laird.
"Feck!"
Rafe swore. He yanked the quilt back further.
Jamie
saw a streak of black. Moving without thinking, he somersaulted backwards,
tucking and rolling with the prince clasped firmly in his arms. The Sa'Leem
flowed across the floor, standing between the laird and the bed. His curved
sword carved elaborate patterns in the air, part magic and part defence.
As
sinuous as a snake, Rafe pursued the flash of black. He flowed over the mattress,
daggers poised. Lithely, he dropped onto his stomach and slithered beneath the
bed.
Swear
words echoed from under the bed.
Blair
mumbled and awoke. He pushed sleepily against the laird’s neck as he stretched.
"’Leya?"
he grumbled.
Rafe
erupted from beneath the bed, missing a black tail by a fraction. Almost faster
than the eye could see, the black shape streaked by Henri, avoiding the
downward stroke of his sword with a taunting hiss.
The
D’neirf launched itself into its pet’s arms.
"’Leya!"
Blair squealed, rocking and hugging and squeezing his companion. Sighing
deeply, Jamie found his feet and stood, lifting both Blair and the kit.
"Some
assassin," Henri said teasingly as he helped Rafe to his feet.
"I
saw a black thing move – what did you expect me to do?" Rafe defended
himself.
Blair
was wide awake, regarding him with inquisitive eyes. He twisted in Jamie’s
arms, demanding to look around. Jamie kept a firm grip. The kit leaped from the
prince’s arms onto the bed. Its tail held high it padded over the bed,
sniffing. Once it had completed a circuit it settled on one of the pillows
curling up into an impossibly tight ball. The D’neirf exuded utter superiority.
"Down?"
Blair requested.
"Bed,"
Jamie responded.
Blair’s
face screwed up. Before he could protest the laird dropped him in the centre of
the quilts. The child looked up at him sullenly.
"Not
tired," he whinged truculently. The way he rubbed his eye with clenched
fist, said that he was telling an untruth.
"Not
tired?" Henri plumped himself down beside the prince. "But you’ve had
such a long day. You were on the roof and you hung on the gutter like an
acrobat." The Sa’Leem touched the light bandage protecting his scraped
palm. "Then you went on an adventure with a sentinel – all the way up to
his eyrie."
Henri
now had the child’s complete attention.
"Oh,
you didn’t know that Big Jamie here is a sentinel? Well, he will be when he
grows up. He’ll be able to see better than an eagle, scent prey like a wolf,
have hearing to listen to a seamstress’ pin drop at the other side of the
castle, taste poisons floating in the air and detect the finest weaves by a
simple touch."
James
William Forest d’Ellison heir to the House of Ellison rolled his eyes
heavenward.
"A
sentinel?"
"If
you lie back I’ll tell you a story," Henri bargained.
The
prince weighed his options, perceptive in the face of Henri, Rafe and the laird
standing over him, he settled for the story.
Jamie
set himself next to the balcony windows and half listened to the improbable story
about a sentinel and a dragon who breathed chocolate fudge sauce. The young
prince seemed to be enjoying it, seemed because Jim was pretty sure that
whatever anyone saw in the prince was exactly what the prince wanted them to
see. Where the five year old had learnt such manipulation was a mystery,
although Jim put the blame firmly in Cassie’s lap. Being opaque to that degree
implied a certain level of intelligence that was rather scary in a child. Even
now, although Blair seemed entranced, he had not clambered onto the knee that
Henri so blatantly offered. Instead he settled back on the mound of pillows,
his arms wrapped around ‘Leya so that the kit was impossibly squished. Despite
the abuse, the D’neirf wasn’t complaining. She should have rendered his skin
with her sharp claws. Jim’s ears attested to how sharp those claws were.
If
Jim could convince Henri that evil was afoot, then Rafe would follow just to
make sure that he wasn’t missing anything. With both the Sa’Leem wielding his
mystical abilities and the assassin’s stylish method of dealing out mayhem, Jim
was pretty sure that he would be able to get to the bottom of the mystery. Or
maybe he could convince the pair to watch over the prince while he
investigated? It was his mystery after all, wasn’t it – he ought to find the
evil doers?
"Finally,"
Henri exhaled.
Blair
slept with the utter relaxation that only the very young could display. Head
tucked down, he melded into the pillows. His grip on the kit had loosened.
Unwisely, Henri reached down to remove the D’neirf.
"OW!"
A narrow line of red rose on the back of his hand.
The
kit licked its talon with a forked tongue.
"By
the Goddess," Rafe exclaimed, flapping his wrist foppishly. "Do you
*have* a death wish? The damn thing will take your head off, as soon as look at
it."
"So
what next?" Henri rubbed his hands together ignoring the scratch.
"Next?"
Jim echoed.
"Yes.
What is our plan of attack?"
"Uhm,"
Jim muttered intelligently.
"I
assume you have one. You’ve been trained in strategy." Rafe balanced his
weight on one hip and crossed his arms, posing.
Jim
refused to react to the blatant body language. Rafe was in a snit because he
hadn’t caught the D’neirf.
"I…"
Henri
raised a finger.
"We,"
Jim amended, "go and talk to the Duchess. She found the Veb. I assume that
she dealt with it when she returned to Blair’s rooms with the required
paraphernalia. She might have an idea who set it."
"We
should also find out everything that we can about the woman Cassie," Henri
added.
"Why?"
Rafe’s voice whined.
"Good
point, Sa’Leem. Why, Bertram?" Jim focussed on his peer. "Because I
think that she had an agenda that involved corrupting the prince in the long
term."
"Intriguing."
Henri turned to look at the innocent figure sprawled over the pillows. The
D’neirf stared back at him, daring them to come any closer.
"What
do you mean?" Rafe’s stiletto was now dancing over his knuckles, as he
pretended to be upset.
"If
she hated her position as Royal Nanny she could have easily delegated her
duties to a junior nanny and simply managed the Royal Nursery. Yet, she didn’t
and based on what Blair has told me, and what I’ve seen since I returned to
court, she did not like her charge. In addition," Jim was in his element,
controlling the situation, "she’s been deliberately telling him nasty
stories, stories that gave him nightmares and stories he’d been told not to
tell anyone about."
"Black
tales?" Henri queried. He was still staring at the prince.
"The
blackest."
"We
should talk to her," Rafe offered. "I know that she has been
dismissed from service to the crown. But surely she can’t have gone far?"
"Good
idea. You, Rafe, talk to her, play with your stilettos while you do it."
Jamie bared his teeth.
"Hmmm."
Henri moved back to the bed. The kit rose, its back arched, hair spiking.
"I’m not going to hurt him."
‘Leya
simply spat.
"I
promise. You may sit on my shoulder while I cast the enchantment and then you
can inflict… grievous bodily harm if I do anything against the prince."
The
kit seemed to consider the option, then with claws extended she ran up his silk
robes. She paused a moment at his thickset waist hissing derisively, and then
continued her pin sharp way up to his shoulder. Talons extended, she settled
comfortably. Tears welled in the Sa’Leem’s eyes.
"Remind
me never to do that again."
"All
right," Rafe’s voice smiled.
"What
*are* you going to do?" Ellison gritted out.
"I’m
going to see if the darkness has claimed his soul."
Henri
gestured and the room’s oil lamps darkened. He brought his other hand up,
curled as if around a ball. Head bowed he began to chant. The D’neirf sat on
his shoulder as still as a statue. The laird followed the spell, he knew it,
but he could not wield it with the grace that the Sa’Leem was displaying.
A
crystal white light shimmered over Blair’s body. Jim watched entranced as it
coalesced over his heart. The ball of white flame expanded into an ethereal
figure. The androgynous form wavered and then changed, wrapping itself in a
cowled robe. Long, shoulder length curls framed a pointy face. It was difficult
to judge any colouring since the figure was translucent. But warm cerulean eyes
watched them. The laird recognised those eyes.
Henri
aborted an automatic bow, curtailed by a sharp claw settling on his ear.
"Greetings,
My Lady," Henri intoned.
"Eh?
Who is it?" Rafe muttered.
"It
is the Earth Mother," Henri said quietly before Jim could speak.
"But
it’s a *boy*, isn’t it?" Rafe asked befuddled.
"But
it’s Blair, sort of?" Jim was frankly confused, he thought that the spell
was supposed to bring forth a representation of the child’s soul.
"Everyone
has a feminine and a masculine side. It’s not always so obvious. But the King
is tied to the Land in ways that we can’t understand. Naomi would have offered
his afterbirth to the Earth on the day that he was born. The Earth recognises
him."
"Surely
it’s a good sign that she’s made an appearance. She’s hardly going to appear if
he’s been corrupted," Rafe said winsomely.
The
form wavered again, filling out subtly and growing a few inches. Between one
blink and another the narrow face was defined by a goatee. The hair took on a
lustrous sheen reflecting the low lights in a myriad of browns, honeys and
chestnut. The robes glowed richly. This was a magician of the highest calibre.
Winds caressed the form, tossing the hair aside as if a thousand air sprites
played. Air elementals paid homage to the man. A storm wizard.
‘That pointy beard looks positively machiavellian,’ Jim thought.
*¿What?*
Henri
gasped; the representations weren’t supposed to speak.
Jim
stepped forwards, literally and figuratively. "We called you forth to see
if the child has been affected by the machinations of Lady Cassandra
Wells."
The
storm wizard looked down and his face softened. The sharp chin melded into a
more blocky visage and the beard whispered away. The curls shortened, gaining
life and energy. The very image of the late King Sandburg smiled paternally at
his younger self.
*Nothing
that the love of a good friend can’t cure*
The
old king changed into a younger more elfin version. The androgynous form played
just beneath the skin. Abruptly it froze and raising an arm threateningly, it
intoned,
*¡Watch
him!*
The
white light flared and in its place stood the young prince. Still dressed in
his purple footie pyjamas, he floated above his recumbent body. His thumb crept
into his mouth, slowly he curled sideways and drifted down to join his body.
The
threesome stared, stunned into silence as Blair slept the sleep of the
innocent.
"Er,
so, like, what did that mean?" Rafe volunteered to break the hush.
"That
did not work the way it was supposed to," Henri said indignantly.
"’Nothing
that the love of a good friend can’t cure’," Jim said getting straight to
the crux of the matter. "So Cassie has hurt our prince’s soul.
Bitch."
"Yes,
but he has not been turned to the darkside." Henri kept one eye firmly on
the D’neirf, still sitting with feline superiority on his shoulder. She rested
a sheathed paw on his ear.
"We’ll
just have to make sure that the evil ones don’t get their claws on him,"
Jim growled.
"I
don’t think that it’s that simple," Henri said wisely. "The seeds
have been planted. We have to make sure that they don’t grow in fertile
ground."
"Very
profound," Rafe snipped, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder.
"What the feck’s that supposed to mean?"
"I
prescribe doses of tender, loving care."
"Oh."
A blush touched Jim’s ears. "Who?"
Henri’s
face screwed up in concentration. "His mama would be the obvious choice.
But she’s busy being mother to the kingdom."
"Surely
this is more important," Rafe objected.
Henri’s
eyes darted this way and that, before he spoke treason. "I would have
thought so. But who are we, as mere serfs to our respective monarchs, to
understand their responsibilities? The Wizard Sultan rarely sleeps and has
little time to spend with his son, Daryl."
"The
Duchess? She’s very nice?" Rafe smiled widely.
"I
think..." Jim began. "I think... that I... No... Yes, the Duchess is
a very good idea. I think that she has taken him under her wing."
Stumbling to a halt, he gazed at the sleeping boy.
"Yes,
let’s go and talk to the Duchess." Henri stalked towards the doorway,
muttering under his breath. Jim should have been able to hear, but he wasn’t
listening.
"We
can tell her," Rafe caught up with the Wizard Sultan’s adjutant, "not
to let him grow a beard when he gets older. It does absolutely nothing for
him."
~*~
Gather around the campfire. So more nastiness is afoot. But we’ve met
some new heroes: the Assassin Rafe and the Adjutant to the Wizard Sultan,
Henri. And we still haven’t found out what Cassie’s evil plan was. But more
importantly, where is Blair’s mama?
~*~
Blair finds a new niche
Blair
awoke in an amazingly big bed. The D’neirf was asleep on the pillow next to his
head so everything was fine. He pushed back the quilt and sat up. The early
morning sunlight shafting through the balcony windows had woken him.
The
bed was gianormous. The quilt, properly covered in Royal purple, felt like a
cloud. The sheets were crisp and embroidered at the edges was the same royal
crest that adorned his pyjamas. Cassie had never let him wear the proper
pyjamas because he was naughty.
‘Leya
opened her good eye and yawned at him.
"Look!"
Blair caught the kit up in his arms and showed her the rest of the room. There
were eight windows leading to the balcony, which was covered with flowering
vines. The velvet drapes on either side of the windows reached the floor. There
was a massive fireplace, filled with pot plants in the summer rather than
glowing flames. Warriors were carved into the fireplace stone. On top of the
mantelpiece was a large music box.
Blair
clambered off the tall bed, and dropped to the carpeted floor. He crossed to
the fireplace. A large portrait hung over the fire. A benevolent looking man
smiled down at him – Blair was sure that he winked at him for a moment. A
cascade of curls was pulled back from the man’s face, but a few escaped. Blair
pulled at his own short bouncy curls. They were the same colour. The man wore
the royal purple, so he had to be a king. He had also added a yellow sash and
bottle green and cobalt tunic.
"Are
you my Daddy?"
The
portrait didn’t answer. He’d have to go to the library and ask the librarian,
Seah. Bored with the painting, he turned to the wardrobe. It smelled a bit
strange, sort of sweet and spicy. Clothes were hung high up, but yanking at
their hems pulled them off their hangers. They fell on his head. Swathed in
lots of clothes, Blair began to play.
‘Leya
thought that the brown ochre tunic with the intricate knot work worked with the
purple sleep suite, especially when coupled with the red short boots that went
past his knees. The plumed hat drifted over his eyes. Blair pushed it back,
blowing the peacock feather out of his face.
"I’ve
never seen anyone with a feather in their hat."
‘Leya
meowed.
"Oh,
a long time ago?"
He
looked at himself in the mirror that covered the entire back door of the
wardrobe. The green tricorn hat looked great.
"I’m
hungry, shall we go get something to eat?"
The
sun had lifted its skirts completely over the west wall so the castle would be
starting to wake up. That meant that someone would be in the kitchen. Stumbling
a bit in his large boots, Blair studied the door. The doorknob was, of course,
out of reach. It yielded to the chair trick. Jumping down from the wooden
chair, Blair pushed it out of the way and dragged the heavy wooden door open.
There
was a short, panelled corridor leading to another door that had no handle.
Stymied, Blair glared up at it. How did you open a door without a handle?
The
D’neirf hissed and spat at the door. Raising her tail at the locked door, she
padded back down the corridor. Blair obediently followed her into the
bedchamber. He watched as she jumped onto the mantelpiece and pawed the music
box.
The
entire fireplace swung backwards out of the room. A black, impenetrable shadow
appeared on the east side. The kit leapt down, and with a beckoning meow
disappeared through the crack.
Blair
paused a moment, chewing his lip, and then scurried after her.
The
fireplace closed behind them. It was pitch black. The D’neirf brushed against
his legs soothingly. It was dark, really dark; he didn’t know if he liked it
really, truly and absolutely dark. Globes of light flared.
"Wow!"
The
lights hovered above the floor, interspersed along the corridor at regular
intervals. It was a soft yellow light that made the secret passage look a lot
less scary.
"Did
you do that?" Blair toddled after the kit in his over large boots.
::Hello, Prince Blair::
"Becky!"
If he squinted he could almost see a young woman. She seemed to be wearing a
cuirass and a metal breastplate. Squinting he could just about see
pteriges--leather strips sewn into a protective skirt--overlying a pristine
white tunic. No matter how much he concentrated he couldn’t make out her face.
::What are you doing here?::
"I
want brekkie."
::Oh, well, the kitchens are this way::
An
ethereal touch gripped his hand. Skipping – as best he could in his new boots –
Blair danced along at her side.
"Are
you a warrior?"
::Yes, I keep watch over the castle::
The
ghost passed through a stone wall, and then stopped before Blair could be
dragged after her. She poked her head out of a brick.
::I forgot, we have to go the long way ‘round::
"We
can try it that way," Blair said eagerly.
::I think not::
"I’m
never allowed to have any fun."
::You’re investigating the secret passages, isn’t that fun?::
"Well,
I suppose so," he said reluctantly. "It would be more fun to walk
through walls."
A
shimmering laugh passed through him--it tickled.
::Where’s Jamie?::
"Dunno,"
Blair said absently. ‘Leya had turned down a flight of stairs. One of the
lights floated away from the wall and dogged their footsteps, illuminating the
steps.
"That’s
clever, how does it know how to do that?" He squatted down and poked the
cool light with a fingertip.
::It recognises the grandson of its creator:: Becky explained.
"Who?"
::Your grandfather, for whom you were named after. King Blair was a
wizard. He used to explore these passages. He always complained about his
torches going out so he magicked up the glows::
"Don’t
they get bored sitting here waiting in the dark?"
::No, they don’t think; they do::
Well,
that didn’t make any sense. Blair set the thought aside to mull over later. He
picked his way down the stairs, dragging Becky after him. The stairways,
corridors and passageways wound this way and that until he didn’t know if he
was coming or going. If the kit or Becky hadn’t been with him he would have
become lost.
The
D’neirf stopped before an unremarkable piece of wall.
::The kitchen. There’s a latch in that knot hole::
Blair
crouched down and poked his finger in the hole. A tiny button moved as he
wiggled his finger. With a tired groan four stones swung into the passage.
"Are
you coming?" Blair asked, but the ghost had already disappeared.
On
hands and knees, he crawled through the opening. The stones swung shut as soon
as he was clear. He knew where he was. He was sitting under the giant wooden
table on the west wall of the castle kitchens. Prepared food was kept on the
heavy table before being carried to the great hall by the pages.
The
head cook was busy directing the baker and his assistant. Through the kitchen
scullery door, Blair could see one of the assistants collecting eggs from the
castle hens storing them in her pinafore. Another maid was churning butter. A
familiar face in the kitchen, Blair didn’t gather any attention.
The
old kitchen dame was sitting by the fire, stirring porridge in the cauldron.
She had been the head cook until she had become blind with old age. A font of
herbal wisdom and in matters of preparing food, she retained her position in
emeritus, guiding her great-granddaughter, the current head cook. She also knew
where the sweeties were kept.
"Hullo,
Mags."
The
crone smiled at him. "Hello, my darling. Have you come for
breakfast?"
The
old lady thought that he was one of the pages or something. "I couldn’t
get you any flowers; they moved me to a new room. It’s nicer than the old one.
And I had a hot bath yesterday. And I got new clothes. They smell spicy."
The
herbalist leaned forwards and sniffed. "Turin – it’s the old king’s
favourite scent. And," she sniffed again, "moth bane. Where did you
find the clothes, my darling?"
"In
the wardrobe."
"Are
you supposed to be wearing them?"
Blair
shrugged, unconcerned. "I’m hungry."
"You’re
always hungry." She smiled, her face like a wrinkled currant. Deftly, she
ladled out a bowl of the porridge and dolloped a generous portion of honey into
the oats.
Blair
took his customary position at her side and began to eat.
"So
have you had any adventures?"
"Uhuh!
I met a ghost and a… a …"
"Take
it slow, my love."
"A
sentinel," Blair said the word properly. "Although he’s not a…
sentinel, yet. He’ll be a… sentinel when he’s bigger. He took me to his… eyrie.
Henri called it an eyrie. I thought that eagles lived in eyries?"
"Sentinels
like to live high up so they can watch over the kingdom with their eagle
eyes."
"I
used to know the sentinel when I was little, but he had to go away. I just met
the ghost, though. She’s nice. She showed me how to get here through the secret
passages. They were good. There was balls of light."
The
herbalist smiled and ruffled his curls. "Secret passages, eh?"
"Yeth,"
Blair said eagerly, around a mouthful of honey and oats. "I think that you
can walk through all the castle through the passages. You get there from my
room. Did I tell you about my new room? There’s a garden. I haven’t explored it
yet. There might be herbs. I’ll bring them to you and you can tell me about
them. There’s a big tree with cherry blossom."
"A
cherry tree? A tree with sand at the bottom?"
"Uhuh."
Blair finished the porridge and pushed the empty bowl into her hands. There was
a hunk of warm bread and a crock of butter on the main kitchen table. He hauled
himself onto a stool and helped himself.
"You
shouldn’t go into King Sandburg’s rooms without permission."
"I
gots permission."
"Well,
make sure that you finish cleaning it before someone realises you’ve been
playing there."
"I
always clean my room before Cassie realises that I’ve been playing with her things."
He snaffled some strawberry jam for his next hunk of bread. "I put spiders
in her ointment jar once."
A
clunk caught his attention. The kit had its head stuck in the buttermilk jug.
"Child,
get your cat out of the jug, and throw out the rest of the milk."
Giggling,
Blair extracted the kit from the jug. Rich milk coated the D’neirf’s muzzle and
whiskers. A self-satisfied smirk was plastered – along with the buttermilk –
over the kit’s face.
"She
hasn’t finished her milk."
"I
don’t care a rat’s ass, she shouldn’t be in the jug. If she comes over here
I’ll smack her bare bottom."
Following
her orders he dumped the spoiled milk in the sink. ‘Leya sighed audibly and
sniffing, snuck out the scullery door on her own business.
"I
have to go now, Mags. The tutor will want me for Letters. I want to read my
story book before."
"You
look after yourself, my pet. Have you had enough to eat?" She held out a
honey cake.
Grinning,
Blair tucked the cake in his tunic for later. "Fanks. See you
tomorrow?"
"I’ll
be here, darling. Eggs, tomorrow?"
"Dippy
bread with cream and sugar?"
"Only
for you."
Blair
stood on his tiptoes and planted a kiss on her leathery cheek. "Bye,
Mags."
~*~
Everyone comfortable around the campfire? Snuggly and warm? So Blair
scurries along the wainscoting of the castle ignored by all the staff – a
strange turn of affairs for the Prince Royal. But our lonely little prince has
friends. And most importantly he now has Jamie.
~*~
Jamie discovers that protecting the Prince Royal is difficult
"Where
the FECK is he!"
The
guard cringed, none had been as surprised as he when they had discovered an
empty bedchamber. Laird Jamie was incandescent with fury.
Rafe
prowled around the room. "There is no evidence of foul play." He
climbed over the balcony and dropped down into the garden below.
"Did
you hear anything?" Jim spat at the guard.
"No,
My Lord." He hung his head in shame.
Casting
the fool aside, Jim made his own scrutiny of the room. There was a pile of
unused clothes dumped on the floor beside the open closet. A distinctive scent
tickled Jim’s nostrils. He didn’t recognise it, but the moth bane made him
sneeze.
"What
are you standing here for," he hollered at the guard. "Go alert the
staff and bodyguard that Prince Blair is missing. *Now*, man!"
The
guard almost teleported in his haste to obey.
"I
want someone on every exit from the castle. Alert the local militia," he
yelled after the guard.
"Nobody’s
been down here, Ellison," Rafe called from below. The assassin shimmied up
the vines and back onto the balcony.
"They’re
not supposed to hold an adult’s weight." Jim scowled.
"I’m
an assassin; that’s practically a staircase."
"Guard!"
Jim roared.
Another
drone entered, he kept his gaze rooted the floor. "Yes, My Lord."
"You
and a gardener pull down these vines. You will make it impossible for *anyone*
to climb up into the prince’s rooms."
"Yes,
My Lord."
The
budding sentinel began to pace across the room, in long devouring strides.
"I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this."
The
unfortunate guard glanced at Rafe and then bolted from the room.
"We
should go and look for him," the assassin said softly.
"And
where do you recommend?" Jim snarled instantly, his glacial glare pierced
the assassin.
"Well,
my first port of call would be the library. He’s rather fond of books."
Suddenly
Rafe was alone in the room. The laird moved with impressive speed when fraught.
"What
an emotional young man," Rafe said conversationally to the portrait above
the fire. "He’d never make an assassin."
~*~
Jamie
ran as if the hounds of seven hells were on his heels. He pounded through the
corridors, alarming pages and squires as he went. An ancient dowager admired
his form as he bolted passed her. He had ran this way yesterday; when the
prince had fallen off the roof. The spiral staircase leading to the tower
library twisted his senses. Primed and ready he burst through the library door,
flinging it open.
"Do
you mind!" the librarian snarled. "What is it with you folk? Why
can’t you follow simple instructions? This is a library. You’re supposed to be
quiet. That’s ‘quiet’ as in with little or no sound or motion – it’s an
adjective. It’s hardly complicated."
She
gently slammed down her book and glared over her glasses. Jim allowed himself
to be distracted by her dark curly hair, so like the young prince’s.
"Laird?
Jamie?" Her voice insinuated into his consciousness.
Confused,
Jamie backed away. He hadn’t under gone the trials; he shouldn’t be having
spells. This was very unusual. His spirit sang for his grandfather so far away
in the Highlands. He would know what to do.
"Is
the prince here?" Jim grated out.
"Yes,
he’s in the stacks."
The
hackles rose on the back of Jim’s neck. He was going to whale the tar out of
the boy for scaring him so badly. He pushed the librarian aside.
"Excuse
me," she said sharply.
"I
apologise, My Lady." Jim pasted on an insincere smile. "Prince Blair
was missing from his bedchamber. We were concerned."
"He’s
been here every morning since he learnt how to read. If people took any
interest they would know that. By the Goddess, someone could take over the Land
and no one would notice," Seah groused.
The
young sentinel focused on her. It was a strange way of putting it. Seah cocked
her head to the side and stared right back at him.
"Do
you have a mystical arts section?"
"No."
"Oh."
Jim shook his head. He had to find the prince.
"Of
course, we do!" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "You’re in the Crown
Library. We have the finest private selection of texts in the seven
countries."
"Fine.
I’ll be back later to ask you some questions about a Veb."
"If
I can be of assistance. That’s what I’m here for."
"I
now have to find the prince," Jim announced.
The
librarian pointed over her shoulder. "Check the window alcove, there’s a
pile of cushions he likes to sit on."
Jim
crept through the stacks. A tiny voice mumbled somewhere ahead of him. He
turned at the far end of the bookshelves and saw a vision. The prince wore the
most appalling mismatch of clothes. He sat cross-legged on a mound of pillows
and an enormous book was draped over his knees. The long feather on his emerald
green, desperately old fashioned hat tickled his nose. It bobbed as he
breathed.
He
looked up and chirped, "Hi, Jim."
It
was impossible to remain angry in the face of such a picture.
"What
are you wearing?" He squatted next to his charge.
"I
found them in the wardrobe. Nice, aren’t they?"
"I
prefer more neutral colours myself." The laird brushed his soft, nubbly silk
tunic and even his kilt was a weave of restrained and conservative colours.
"Everyone’s looking for you."
"Why?"
Blair said simply. "I don’t have to be at Letters until the second chime
rings."
Jim
was stymied; he suddenly realised that he didn’t want to tell the prince about
the vague feelings that drove him. How could he? The prince was only a child;
therefore, he had to be protected.
"You’ve
got a new nanny now. You surprised her when you weren’t in your room, when I
came to collect you for breakfast."
"You’re
my nanny?" Blair asked perplexed.
"No."
Jim closed his eyes as he revised his sentence. "No, I’m not your nanny.
But I came to collect you for breakfast in the great hall."
"I
don’t go to breakfast. Mags gives me some porridge in the kitchen."
"Well,
things are going to change now. You’re not in the hands of Cassie. You’re under
the protection of Henri, Rafe and myself."
"What
about ‘Leya and Becky and Robyn and…"
"Well,
yes, I’m sure that they’ll help." In command, Jim took the book away.
Blair grabbed for it and missed. The title of the book caught Jim’s eye:
‘Trolls, brownies and little people.’
"I
haven’t finished that!" Blair protested.
The
laird turned the book over in his hands allowing it to fall open as it may.
"Why are you going to Letters, if you’re reading? Or are you just looking
at the pictures?"
Blair
stood up and leaned against his shoulder. He reached down, running a small
finger along a sentence.
"…the
best way to a… appease (that means keep happy – I think) a brownie is to leave
a bwol… bowl of milk beside the fire, late at night."
Amazed,
Jim chose another page, he offered it to the prince.
The
child chortled. "… the sons of Bor made the dwarves. The leader of the
dwarves is called Mod…Mod…." Blair peeped at him appealingly through his
long lashes.
"Mogsognir,"
Jamie supplied.
"Good.
Good. Good." The prince beamed. "Stay. Stay. Stay." He patted
him with his splayed hands, pushing him towards the cushions. Jim yielded,
settling in the alcove.
Blair
darted to the nearest stack and back before Jim could protest. He held a tiny
book. Eagerly, he presented it to the laird.
"Big
words. Help," he ordered, almost imperiously.
Stunned,
Jim could only watch as the prince tucked in close beside him. Reaching over,
he opened the book, found his page and pointed.
"What’s
that word? What’s it mean?"
"Ragnarok."
~*~
Rafe
moved stealthily along the book stacks, honing in on the soft voices. Pulling
out a little mirror, he angled it so he could see around a corner.
Two
heads, one golden and the other chestnut were bowed over a book. The laird
smiled as he turned over a page. The little boy leaned over his lap, pointing.
Contentment
oozed off them in waves.
Echoing
their smiles, Rafe retreated. He had to tell Henri that the prince had been
found and tell the bodyguards and militia to stand down.
The
prince had found his Sentinel; today was a day of celebration.
Twirling
his stiletto over his fingers, he worked his way silently around the stacks. He
came to an abrupt halt as he came face to face with the librarian, Seah.
"Milady?"
He bowed.
"Lord
Rafe, you found them?"
"Yes,
they are sequestered happily. I believe that the prince has found his Sentinel
and the Sentinel has found his Guide."
Seah
peered over his shoulder. "So young? That is indeed ominous."
"Ominous?"
Rafe echoed. "In what way?"
"The
prince is a baby and the Sentinel is little more than a child – only destiny
would bring them together before they are able to handle their gifts." She
turned away, back to her books.
"I
don’t understand."
She
stopped and craned her head over her shoulder. "Why have they been brought
together now, rather than at the agreed-upon time when the Heir to the House of
d’Ellison takes on the mantle of Sentinel and the Prince becomes the Head of
Acharn?"
"I
don’t know," Rafe muttered.
"Neither
do I."
End Chapter I.
~*~
Chapter II.
~*~
Magic is afoot. What great horror hovers on the edge of the Land that
demands that the protectors of Acharn join before the appointed time?
~*~
Jamie’s tale
"So
a Veb – tell me about it," Jim flashed a devastatingly enchanting smile at
the librarian. The effect was spoilt as he reached down and caught his charge
by the scruff of his neck and hauled him onto the stool beside him.
"I’m
bored!" Blair drummed his heels against the chair, irritatingly.
The
prince had the attention span of a toddler on moon juice.
"Can
we read this book now?" He held up a book entitled the Maths of Magic.
‘Oh, Goddess, I’ve created a monster,’ Jim wailed inwardly.
"A
Veb is an unearthly creature created by the dread spells of the Mage
Brack." Seah leaned over the table, peering over her imported pince-nez at
them. "The art was lost a thousand years ago. Unless Brack has been alive
all that time or re-incarnated, I don’t know how the spell could have been
reborn."
"Are
you sure?"
"Someone
could have found his grimoire. But that doesn’t really help you."
~*~
Blair decides he’s…
"I’m
bored!" Prince Blair wiggled out of the Heir Jamie’s grasp; if he wasn’t
going to play with him he’d find someone else.
"Ooooh!"
As if his very boredom had called her up ‘Leya appeared. The D’neirf had cream
coating her whiskers. ‘Leya rubbed his ankles affectionately. Blair picked up
his bestest friend in the whole world. The D’neirf glared balefully at the pair
of adults leaning over the table. Blair could practically read the D’neirf’s
mind. He tucked her head against his neck and listened to her purr as they plotted.
Escape.
Blair
remembered Jamie from when he had been just a little baby. Jamie was a good
boy. Jamie never got into trouble.
Little
demon horns of mischief were hidden under his curly hair.
Blair
quietly sidled towards the stacks. Jamie was deep in discussion with the dark
haired librarian. ‘Leya meowed an option.
"Good
idea."
Blair
retrieved a bag of marbles from one of his caches on the library shelves.
Carefully and with great precision, he laid them on the hard wooden floor. Once
they were set to ‘Leya’s instructions, he ran away on short little legs –
cackling gleefully.
The
resultant thud as Big Jamie’s bottom hit the floor was most satisfying.
The
tale of the princess and the pea had taken on a whole new meaning
"Come
back here, you little brat!"
Blair
spotted a wee knot in the wooden panelling. At ‘Leya’s encouragement, he poked
his finger in the wall and the secret door swung open. It closed behind him
just before the irate nascent sentinel rushed by the entrance.
The
D’neirf jumped out of his arms and brushed up against one of the mage lights.
The illumination showed a long corridor ending in a spiral staircase. Blair
padded after the D’neirf
The
D’neirf obviously knew all about the secret passages.
"Why
didn’t you tell me about ‘em before?" he asked.
‘Leya
gave him an inscrutable look – so sphinx-like he couldn’t tell what she was
thinking. Muttering under his breath, he padded after his friend.
"If
you luvved me; you would have tooold me. I’m big; I wouldn’t have got into
trouble."
He
ducked under an iron maiden (complete with perfectly clean skeleton) as he
followed the kit into the bowels of the castle.
They
emerged from the wall that juxtaposed the castle orchard. Blair grinned – a
wide cheeky grin – he would remember this route! On sturdy legs he ran out over
the grass towards the large oak tree that dominated the orchard.
"Robyn!"
he called at the bottom of the tree. "Robyn?"
The
wood dryad started to detach herself from a thick branch above his head. Her
bark-like skin melded seamlessly with the tree. Blair watched entranced as her
large, liquid brown eyes opened.
"Prince,"
she greeted.
Blair
held out his arms and chortled as she lifted him up onto the oak branch.
"What
are you doing?"
"Am
playing hide and seek."
"Shouldn’t
you be at Letters?"
"No,
Jamie said: if I can read why am I at Letters? I can read," he finished
proudly.
"Jamie?"
"Jamie’s
my new nanny – but he said that he isn’t my nanny but he is. He acts like my
nanny."
‘Leya,
claws pinsharp, gracefully scaled the tree. She regally accepted a stroke from
the wood dryad. The kit and dryad shared a long glance.
"What
are you talking about? What are you talking about?" Blair bounced up and
down on his seat. The fine branches of the Oak moved to create a net under the
child.
"The
D’neirf tells me that your new nanny is to be the next Sentinel of
Acharn."
"Yeah
– but he’s not very good at it… he does this staring thing." Blair gazed
to the side and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, pretending to
drool.
The
kit and the dryad were deep in conversation and were not listening. Normally,
Robyn answered all his question and told him stories. Bored, Blair decided to
check on the acorns at the top of the tree. Slowly and surely he began to climb
up the trunk.
The
branches rustled beneath him as he climbed higher and higher. He would catch it
off Danbush, the Gamekeeper, if he was caught. The buds at the top of the tree
were sweet and if he asked nicely Robyn’s friend would give him a couple of
soft acorns to suck. He climbed higher than he had ever climbed before. The
tree beneath his hands felt worried. He stopped and bestowed an absent pat.
"What’s
the matter? Are you poorly sick? Shall I tell Robyn?"
A
squigel ducked out of its hollow and chittered at him. Its litter, clustered
protectively behind it, blinked up at him.
"Shall
I bring your babies some acorns?"
There
was a bushel of acorns clustered at the end of a tapering branch. They looked
very succulent – just what little baby squigels needed.
Inch
by inch he crawled along the branch.
"You
little BUGGER!" a harsh voice yelled.
Surprised,
Blair slipped. Long branches scrabbled at his shirt and a handful of twigs
caught his wrist. He heard a high pitched shriek as the twigs shredded, failing
to break his fall. He fell another body length and a network of branches
slithered beneath him. His plummeting descent slowed as the web of leaves held
then broke. The slim branches weaved their net tighter, trying to break his fall.
Robyn appeared out of nowhere as the last twig gave way. Her long bony fingers
almost caught his wrist as he fell out of the canopy and there were no more
branches to catch him.
He
hit the ground with a bone breaking thump. The breath was forced from his body.
"You
little..." Danbush, the gamekeeper, reached down to pick him up by the
scruff of his neck.
Danbush
was ripped away from his side. A primeval roar filled his ears; Blair almost
had an accident in his underpants. The gamekeeper’s strawberry red nose and
piggy brown eyes were replaced by Jim’s ice blue eyes and a fine straight nose.
"Don’t
move," Jamie said. Gentle hands coasted over his head and down his neck.
"Where does it hurt?"
Blair
bit his bottom lip trying to be brave. "Mama?"
"Ssssh,
it’s okay; I’m here."
~*~
Jamie
was as angry as the towering demon of Siemyn. The prince was incorrigible. He
couldn’t understand where the brat had gone. He stormed around the castle,
until he remembered that the prince liked the orchard and he had an imaginary
friend living in one of the trees. The laird ran out into the orchard as the
old, cantankerous treeman yelled at someone in his beloved tree.
Jamie’s
hawk like gaze saw the tiny prince in the highest branches. The boy fell. Jim
ran as fast as the cheetahs of Namime, trying vainly, impossibly, to catch the
boy before he could reach the ground.
"Goddess,
please."
For
a heartbeat he thought that he was going to make it. Somehow, the prince caught
the branches but the branches shredded and he fell.
The
unmistakable crack of a bone splintering echoed in his ears. His skin shivered
in sympathy. The idiot gamekeeper reached down to grab the prince. Jamie flung
him aside with a roar for his presumptuousness.
"Don’t
move," Jamie ordered. The laird slid to his knees at his prince’s side. He
held his breath as he ran his fingers over Blair’s head and his delicate neck.
"Where does it hurt?"
Big,
fat tears welled in the sapphire blue eyes. "Mama?"
"Ssssh,
it’s okay; I’m here."
"I
wants my mama."
"Where
does it hurt?"
"His
arm is broken," a soft voice informed him.
Shocked
at the soft voice, Jamie looked up. An ethereal woman, oak nut brown, covered
in delicate tattoos that resembled bark stood at the base of the tree trunk.
Her oak leaf gown shifted in the gentle breeze. She didn’t move away from the
oak, keeping in contact with the gnarly bark at all times.
Blair’s
right hand was twisted under his flank. Jamie carefully checked his backbone,
feeling each ridge of bone before he gently rolled his prince onto his back.
"Hurts,"
he whimpered.
"Oh,
dear." The bone was indeed broken; Blair’s arm was at a funny angle.
"You’re lucky that you didn’t break your neck."
But
now wasn’t the time for remonstrations, the little prince was hurting. The
child blinked up at him obviously shocked and in pain. Jim gently felt his
legs, while he believed the dryad he was determined to check it out himself. He
unbuttoned the prince’s embroidered tunic and with the utmost care tucked the
broken limb against his ribs. Buttoning the tunic back up gave the arm support.
"Hurts."
"I
know, Cynthia Louise will make it all better." For added support, he
fastened his belt around the boy’s skinny torso. Only then did he scoop his
prince up in his arms.
"I
didn’t realise that it was the prince," Danbush wailed suddenly.
Jamie
scowled. "Would it matter if it was the weest page? You’re an idiot, man.
Who yells at a small boy climbing in the highest branches of a tree?"
"I
meant no harm to the prince."
Jamie
had more immediate concerns than dealing with the gamekeeper.
"Hurts."
"I
know. Ssssssh. I will look after you."
"I’m
sorry," Danbush began again.
Jamie
levelled a glacial glare at the florid little man. "I will find you later
and speak to you."
~*~
Jamie
kept the young prince on his lap as the court physician did arcane things to
the child’s arm.
"Mama?"
Blair whispered.
"Queen
Naomi is signing the Treaty with the Sultan, she’ll be here soon."
His
eyes were big and impossibly black from the painkilling draught that Cynthia
Louise had made him drink. Jim glanced at Blair’s arm. The skin shifted as the
splintered bones realigned. Cindy bowed over the limb, her blond hair falling
in her eyes. A soft glow emanated from his arm and, impossibly, Jamie could see
the bone fragments within the casement of flesh and blood melding.
"You’re
mending the bone," he said incredulously.
"It
is a nasty break. If he ever wants to hold a sword – the job needs to be done
and properly."
A
trickle of perspiration fell from her nose.
"Stop."
Blair wept and turned his face into Jamie’s tunic.
"Sssshh,
tis almost done, my prince."
"Can’t
you put him to sleep?"
"Not,
yet." Cindy gazed levelly at the young laird. "Prince Blair, can you
wiggle your fingers for me?"
"No.
It hurts."
The
physician nodded at Jamie and then looked pointedly at the prince.
Jamie
got the message. "Can you do it for me, Blair? Just a little wiggle?
Wiggle it, just a little bit."
Blair
rolled his head back on Jamie’s chest and pouted up at him under a glowering
brow. "Hurts," he said sullenly.
Jamie
pouted back at him. "Wiggle."
There
was a glimmering of a smile on those pouty little lips. Then looking at his arm
as if it belonged to someone else, Blair wiggled his fingers a fraction.
"Good
boy." Cynthia Louise placed her palm on his forehead and Blair relaxed
into an immediate healing sleep. "Hold him steady, I want to brace his
wrist and elbow."
"Have
you not healed him?" Jamie’s highland accent came through strongly.
"I
have put everything back where it is supposed to be and it will be as good as
new in a few weeks – but it still needs a few weeks help. And this little scamp
will benefit from a brace to remind him of what happens when you climb in
trees."
Jamie
looked affectionately at his charge, draped over his lap. Prince Blair remained
deeply asleep as the physician supported his arm with padded splints and
wrapped it firmly. Jamie remained stock-still as she dealt with the blooming
bruises on Blair’s shoulder and hip.
"How
far did he fall?"
"It
was very strange – it was almost as if the tree tried to catch him." He
didn’t want to speak of the dryad in the oak tree. It was amazing; there was a
dryad in the castle orchard. The world was very large and he had barely touched
it.
"As
well as can be," Cindy announced. She kissed Blair’s upturned nose.
"Put him to bed, he’s to sleep until tea, wake him, and then he can have
hot chocolate and a bowl of oatmeal. Then he is to go straight back to sleep. I
will check on you both."
Jamie
wrote the instructions on his heart. The physician finished packing away her
equipment.
"I
will tell her majesty that her son will be fine," there was no censure in
her tone. But Jamie felt it for her. How could a mother leave her son in the
hands of strangers? Even if she were the Queen of Acharn? It was wrong. Blair
was an empathic boy; he needed nurturing. Cassie had already poisoned his soul:
he needed love, unconditional love, if he was to heal.
Jamie
thanked the physician kindly and then carried his prince back to his suite. He
dismissed the prince’s new nanny, with a mental note to check with Rafe to make
sure that she was trustworthy. He would have preferred that the Duchess
Michelle looked after the boy, but apparently she had duties to the Queen.
Simmering
with anger, he undressed Blair and slipped him under the warm blankets. Then he
sat at the bottom of the bed. The prince could have been killed because of a
moment of inattention. His skin crawled at the thought of the near miss. He was
off kilter and uneasy. His senses pinged, demanding action and retribution, but
there was nothing that he could mete out his anger upon.
He
hadn’t found out any more about the Veb. He didn’t know who had employed
Cassandra.
"Idiot!"
he hissed. Why hadn’t he yet spoken to the evil witch? All he knew was that she
had been dismissed. He was half way to the door before he stopped. He could not
leave the prince unattended.
Wrenching
the door open, he ordered, "Get me the Sa’Leem Henri and the Duke of Rafe
– NOW!"
The
guard quivered in the face of the fiery wrath of the heir to the northern
mountains and then bolted. Jim made a mental note of his alacrity and
remembered to mention to the man’s superior that he had left his post.
Growling,
Jamie paced back to Blair’s bedside. He caught a glance of his reflection as he
crossed the room. He almost didn’t recognise the figure. His brow was furrowed
and he was sure that he saw the Cat playing under his skin.
This
couldn’t be happening. His father, William, held the gifts of the Sentinel,
while his grandfather wielded them. If he saw the Cat it meant… he didn’t know
what it meant. All he knew was it wasn’t… right.
Grandfather
Ellison and Lord William should have responded to the feelings that he, a mere
heir, could no longer ignore. They should be here.
A
gentle tap disturbed his pointless contemplations. Rafe poked his head through
the door and then crept into the suite with Henri on his heels.
"You
called?" he drawled.
"How’s
the prince?" Henri padded to the boy’s side. "Poor little
Precious," he glommed.
Blair
slept deeply, his arm resting on a satin cushion. Henri tenderly stroked his
forehead, ruffling his short curls. The sheets were creased slightly so he
straightened them. Then he plumped up the pillows on either side of Blair’s
head.
"Have
you spoken to Cassandra?" Jamie demanded, getting straight to the point.
He had already ensured that Prince Blair was perfectly comfortable and he was
offended that Henri was mussing up his perfect sheets.
Rafe
jerked his chin, gesturing to the balcony.
They
closed the stained glass doors so they wouldn’t disturb the prince. Listening
very carefully, Jamie ascertained that no one was within earshot.
"The
Lady Cassandra is dead." Rafe dropped his bombshell.
"What?
How? I don’t…" Jamie’s mouth fell open.
"She
was found hung in her quarters. The Queen’s ministers believe that she took her
own life."
"Which
idiots believe that?" Jamie demanded.
"Lash,
Trevellyan and The Zeller."
"Chancellor
Lash obviously takes after his son, he’s a complete tosser," Jamie said
succinctly. "But I expected better of The Zeller. What about the rest of
the ministers?"
"They
were witnessing the treaty," Rafe reported. "In seclusion."
"Henri,"
Jamie began. "If the treaty’s been signed, can you possibly tell us
why the Queen and the Sultan have been in dialogue and for so long?
Sa’Leem
Henri shrugged refusing to be drawn.
"I
insist."
"Not
to put too fine a point on it, Jamie, you’re not yet at the age of
majority," Henri said from his lofty age of twenty odd years.
"Do
you know, Rafe?"
Rafe
found something of sudden interest the old king’s garden. "No, not
officially."
"So
you do."
"I
didn’t say that."
Jamie
looked down his fine nose at them. "Does it have an impact on what has
happened to the prince?"
"Er…
yes." Henri said, then he relented, his brown eyes sincere. "I do not
know the whole details of the treaty. They spoke of trade and a cultural
exchange and of… clandestine matters."
"A
threat to the kingdom?"
"Mayhap."
Henri spread his hands.
"Rafe,
can you send a message to Bruncladhic and inform my father and grandfather that
they are needed."
"Yes,
I will send my best messenger. Kincaid is to be trusted."
"Excellent."
It was as if a weight was lifted from Jamie’s shoulders; he wanted his
grandfather. "I will not leave the prince alone. We need to know more
about the Lady Cassandra. Rafe, tell your man Kincaid. Henri, find who found
the bitch dead in her cell and who employed her."
Henri
bowed deeply, flourishing. "Your wish is my command."
Jamie
fired a gimlet glare.
Rafe
pared his nails with his stiletto. "So happy day, we all know what we need
to do. I’ll go speak with Kincaid." Purely to irritate the Sentinel, Rafe
jumped over the balcony, scurrying down the stone wall as if it were a ladder.
"Still haven’t lost my touch." He brushed off his velvet jodhpurs.
"It’s a highway, Lord Jamie – you’d best set the wards when you retire for
the night."
Jamie
scowled at the assassin, even as he mentally ran through the intricacies of the
protective spells. He allowed Henri to shepherd him back into the prince’s
bedroom.
"I
will find out who hired the Lady Cassandra. It should be simple; the Duchess
Michelle will know."
"I
will guard the prince."
As
Henri left, Jamie distinctly heard him say, "Why am I not surprised."
~*~
Oooooh, there are more players in the game. So many familiar names in
the Royal Court and all of them evil? Oh dear, will Jamie’s message get to his
father and grandfather if Kincaid is the messenger? Who dispatched Cassie,
corrupter of innocent souls?
~*~
Jamie
uncurled from the bottom of the bed as his charge moved. Blair had awoken
around dinner, tearful and sore. Cynthia Louise had given him a sleeping
draught and he had fallen asleep before he had finished his porridge. He had slept
peacefully throughout the night, barely stirring.
Jamie
crouched beside the bed, so he was a mere hand span from the child’s curly
hair.
"Good
morning, my prince," he cajoled.
Blair’s
eyes opened a fraction. "Go ‘way."
"Oh,
none of that." Jim snatched back the quilt.
"Nooo."
Blair curled around his sore arm.
"Sssssh."
Jamie gathered him up. He was warm and smelled of freshly baked bread and
chocolate. Blair snuggled in and Jamie experienced anew the passionate
dedication he felt for the prince. The guardian retrieved Cynthia Louise’s
painkilling draught from the bedside table.
They
had missed bath time the night before.
He
carried him through to the bathing room. He had given the new nanny leave to
enter the outer rooms of the suite, but not to associate with the child.
The
ceramic bath was filled with lightly steaming water. Jamie, as suspicious as a
D’neirf, sniffed the water but could only smell water, he tested the
temperature with his little finger and deemed it perfect.
"Don’t
want a baf, my arm hurts," Blair said sullenly.
Jamie
sat on the side of the bath with the prince on his lap, in fits and starts he
managed to get Blair to take a few mouthfuls of the honey sweetened herb juice.
Blair dragged it out, knowing that the dreaded bath was next.
Jamie
was not to be gainsaid. He set the prince on the commode and stripped him from
his purple sleep suit, carefully avoiding jostling his arm.
Blair
sat in the warm shallow water, surly as heck, as Jamie ran a soapy sponge over
his back, neck and front. Jamie viewed the luxuriant curls with some
trepidation; his own short hair was much easier to look after. He only got soap
in his charge’s forehead once and Blair seemed to eventually enjoy himself as
he floated on his back in the water, his arm cradled on a towel on his tummy.
Once
he was clean to a Sentinel’s stringent standards, Jim sat him upright and
filled the bath a tad higher with warm water.
Grabbing
a little bucket and sponge ball he dropped them in the bath. Jamie let Blair
play with his bath toys, after threatening him with cold porridge for breakfast
if he got his poorly arm wet. With one eye on his charge, he washed himself, a
cat’s lick and a polish.
Getting
Blair out of the bath was as hard as getting him in. But the Sentinel persisted,
and got him dressed in a sumptuous black velvet doublet and a matching knee
length hose. Jamie bent down and tied the rosette garters around the prince’s
knees.
"Baby
clothes. Baby clothes," Blair protested. "Only babies wear these. Am
almost six."
Jamie
pinned the royal crest on his lacy collar. "It’s so people know who you
are. You can’t wear pages’ clothes. You are not a page; you are the Prince of
the Crown."
Ignoring
his protests, Jamie checked Blair’s broken arm; his fingers were slightly swollen.
He tucked Blair’s arm in a sling. Seeing the imminent explosion in Blair’s
eyes, he crouched until they were face to face.
"You
have to keep this on your arm. It will help."
He
then wrestled on the prince’s matching booties. Standing back, Jamie was
impressed by the changes that he had wrought. The child no longer looked like a
scruffy page. The black velvet attire was elegant and showed the prince’s
station. ‘The hair…’ he thought. He wasn’t too sure if he could do
anything about the child’s hair unless he cut it off. The curls were riotous,
but they had an appealing charm.
He
was fairly sure that there were some demon horns lurking under those locks.
"Come."
He picked up Blair, easily supporting him by one arm under his bottom.
"Where
are we going?"
"Breakfast."
"Mags
said that she was going to make dippy bread."
"You
will eat with me in the great hall."
"I
wants…"
"I
will get you dippy bread."
"Good."
What
had he let himself in for?
~*~
Blair’s tale
Blair
couldn’t decide if he liked being carried. Jamie-Jim seemed to like carrying
him. But the Laird of the High Mountains was a bossy cat and took him where he
didn’t want to go. The kitchens were warm and cosy, and Mags taught him about
herbs and spices. The library was more fun, but you got food in the kitchens.
There
were lots of people in the main hall. They were the men and women who were
inflated with self importance. He scowled at Chancellor Lash and his slimy son
as Jamie set him on a chair with a cushion. He felt a little bit more charitable
to Jim when he waved away the high chair that a page rushed forward with.
There
were lots of people around the table who he didn’t know. But it was the giant
sitting opposite that caught his eye. He had a coal black statue of a man
standing behind him, who only wore a silver-metal loincloth. The giant was
swathed in the bonniest of fabrics – colourful golds and reds and ochres – much
prettier than black.
Jamie
liked black.
Jamie
was boring.
Jamie
put a bowl of porridge in front of him.
He
really didn’t like Jamie.
"You
promised." He pushed away the bowl of hot oats.
"Ah…the
eggy bread." He stood and addressed the throng around the table.
"Excuse me."
His
footsteps echoed across the great hall. Suddenly Blair was the centre of
attention and he definitely didn’t like that. He scowled at the wrinkly old men
and women. Rafe was at the far end of the table and he wiggled his fingers at
him. The ancient Lord Malú smiled at him and then returned to his discussion
with his young Lady. Almost as if Malú ordered it the other Lords and Ladies
dismissed him from their thoughts and began to talk.
Blair
liked the wrapped up towel on top of the giant’s head. The big shiny jewel in
the middle of his towel reflected the hall illumination. If he squinted he
could see his reflection and he was sure that it waved. The giant was wearing a
dress – it looked like a dress, with a long night robe on top.
Blair
slithered off his chair and crawled under the table. The giant’s feet were bare
and he had leather straps criss-crossing them. And yes, he was wearing a dress.
Blair fingered the satiny material – it felt very nice. There was more than one
dress; he wore layers and layers.
"Hello."
Blair
looked up into the giant’s eyes. He had poked his head under the tablecloth. He
had a nice smile.
"You’re
wearing a dress. Why are you wearing a dress? It’s nice, but doesn’t it get in
the way?"
"I’m
not really wearing a dress," he said gently.
"It
looks like a dress."
The
giant fingered the long sleeves poking out of his shorter sleeved over tunic.
"This is the zupan, woven from the finest silks with the most intricate
embroidery. I wear a caftan over my zupan. All the men in my Land wear these
‘dresses.’" He chortled.
"Why?
Do the girls wear trews?"
"No.
My Land is very hot, it is better to wear loose clothes."
"But
you’re in Acharn, it rains here."
"True,
but I am used to these clothes. Other clothes feel strange."
"Jamie
made me wear smart clothes. I liked my old clothes."
"Jamie
is your protector, you should do what he tells you."
"So
why aren’t you wearing a tunic and trews?" Blair asked cannily.
"Nobody
told me not to wear the clothes that I like."
"You’re
lucky."
The
giant smiled, his teeth a brilliant white against the dark of his skin. He had
a diamond embedded in his front tooth.
"I
am pleased to meet you, Prince Blair." He held out his hand.
Blair
reached out with his bad arm and winced. He knew his manners; he had to shake
the giant’s hand. But his arm hurt. The giant smiled at him and leaned down to
ruffle his hair. Then, despite his mass, the giant ducked under the table.
Sitting cross-legged, he had to bend his neck to fit under the table. The table
lifted up a little bit as he wiggled, trying to get comfortable.
"My
name is Simon – I’m visiting your mother."
"Have
you seen mama? I haven’t for ages and ages." He scrambled on to his knees
and rested a hand on Simon’s thigh.
"I
saw your mother last night. She is… thinking about what we talked about."
"What
did you talk about?"
"We
were talking about becoming friends."
"How
can you talk about becoming friends? You’re friends or not. I got
friends." He sidled forwards, and whispered very quietly, "I don’t
like Lord Lash, he’s nasty and his daddy’s slimy. Do you like my mama?"
"Yes,
your mama is very nice."
"So
you’re friends already?"
"Yes."
"So
mama doesn’t have to think. She can visit me?"
Giant
Simon bit his bottom lip. "Soon I hope."
"That’s
what everyone says – I just want my mama."
"WHERE
IS THE PRINCE!" The bellow filled the room.
"That’s
Jim," Blair said conversationally.
Simon
chortled. "Perhaps you should go to him?"
"RAFE!"
There was a deep growl. "I left him in your charge."
The
tablecloth lifted and Jamie peered beneath the table. "Honoured Sultan
Siddiq’Banks." He nodded respectfully at the giant. "I was
concerned."
"Blair
and I were just getting to know each other."
"This
is Simon not Siddiq."
"My
prince, may I cordially introduce you to the Wizard Sultan Simon
Siddiq’Banks."
Blair
scrambled to his feet, his curls just brushing the underside of the table and
formally bowed as he had been taught, over his poorly arm.
"I
am very pleased to meet you, Your Majesty."
"And
I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness." Simon inclined his head.
"Come
out, Prince Blair – you’ll get your clean clothes dirty."
Blair
shuffled towards the laird, dragging his feet. "Simon gets to wear what he
wants to because no one tells him what to do."
"Really."
Jim reached under the table and dragged him out. "I brought you eggy
bread, didn’t I?"
Blair
really couldn’t argue with that. It was nice looking eggy bread too – golden
and thick. He plopped down on his cushion and dove in. Around a mouthful of
bread, he stared at the ministers and the Lords and Ladies. Some looked
disapproving and others were smiling.
The
Wizard Sultan was grinning openly as he sat back in his seat.
"So,
my prince, what are you going to do today?"
Blair
cast a leery glance at the laird sitting ramrod straight beside him. "I
gots Letters, I think. Even though I can read. Then I can hide in the library
and read what the tutor thinks I can’t read. Then I have dinner and go to
bed."
Simon’s
brow screwed up, flummoxed. He reached into his robes and drew out a pair of
magic lenses and set them on his nose. "And that is your day?"
"Unless
he runs off to play with his friends," Jamie said waspishly.
"’Leya!"
The
kit jumped onto the table and then sidled onto his lap.
"Where
have you been? I fell out of the tree – you weren’t there!" Blair said
reproachfully.
‘Leya
nuzzled his swollen fingers very lightly. The kit looked up at him and blinked
her good eye, asking for forgiveness.
"That
kit should not be at the table." Chancellor Lash carped.
Blair
glared at the sallow man with his robin hood hair – long on one side and combed
over his shiny skull – a sort of ‘take from the rich and give to the poor.’ His
son, with his long blond hair pulled back in the rat’s tail was equally
unappealing.
"’Leya
is allowed," Blair proclaimed.
"Child…"
he began nasally.
"The
kit stays," the prince snarled.
The
Lashes looked very shocked at his words. Blair glared at the other diners –
they were staring at him as if they had picked up a puppy and found a
rottweiler at their throats. The Zeller smiled paternally at him. Conversation
surged around the table not one person discussing his words or his bad manners.
Blair quite liked it – he had raised his voice and they had not told him off.
"But
the D’neirf is not allowed on the table," Jamie interrupted thoughts, and
his tone brooked no argument.
Blair
felt the seed of anger rising again. He read some of Seah’s spell books he knew
how to do…
Jim
gazed at him levelly. "We can discuss this back in your suite. But temper tantrums
will get you nowhere. And I’ll be very disappointed."
That
took the wind out of his sails. Confused, Blair saw Siddiq Simon nodding. ‘Leya
offered her own interpretation of what was happening, but he didn’t understand
what she was saying.
Blair
grabbed his goblet of buttermilk and stuck his nose in it. "Jamie Bossy
Cat," he muttered.
The
kit meowed. Blair cocked his head to the side and listened closely. He grabbed
the feelings as if holding misty clouds in the palm of his hand.
"Becky?" he asked.
‘Leya
gently licked his sore fingers again – they felt better already.
Jamie
was reaching down with a napkin to wipe his chin.
"No.
Am big – I can read." Blair set his goblet aside and grabbed the cloth.
"Becky wants to talk. To Jim?" he asked the kit.
"What?"
Jamie darted a glance at Simon and then at the other people around the table.
"Becky
want to talk to us." He rubbed his mouth with the fine cloth.
"I
heard you the first time." Jamie bent to listen closely. "How do you
know?"
"’Leya
said."
"How?"
Jamie reached out to the D’neirf and she regally allowed him to scratch under
her chin. "Really?"
"Just
know. Tis true. Pwomise."
The
court had deemed them of no interest and were ignoring them. Blair liked the
word ‘deemed’ it had a nice ring to it. Simon, in his golden dress, was
watching them through his magic lenses. The statue behind him seemed to be
listening too. ‘Leya meowed, jumped off his lap and arrowed out of the dining
hall.
"If
you’ll excuse us," Jamie stood. "I’ve remembered that a new member of
staff requires some instructions."
Jamie
reached for him.
"Can
walk." Blair felt obstreperous.
Jamie
held out his hand, Blair pondered then let Jamie hold his hand. If it made the
laird feel better he was willing to put up with holding hands. It was better
than the reins that Cassie had insisted on tying him in when they went out on
walks around the battlements late at night.
He
tucked his hand further into Jim’s palm and the laird smiled, his smile was
like the sun breaking out from behind a grey cloud. Prince Blair let the laird
tug him off his chair and across the Great Hall in ‘Leya’s wake.
"Laird
Jamie." Simon caught up with him. Blair watched, amazed as the black
statue followed.
"Yes,
Your Majesty?"
Simon
was a nice warm brown colour, in fact he looked like a faerie brownie, albeit a
very big brownie. The statue was black like the night sky. Blair pulled his
hand from Jamie’s grasp and skirted around Simon to stop before the moving
statue – maybe it was a golem?
The
statue was ignoring him. Curious, Blair walked around the statue. He couldn’t
see any key to wind it up. And there weren’t any joins. He licked his fingers
and rubbed the statue’s thigh vigorously. Black paint came off on his palm.
"Prince
Blair?"
Blair
smiled ingenuously up at Giant Simon.
"My
Chosen Warrior Joel Nabweh is honoured that you find him so very interesting,
but asks if you could leave his camouflage alone."
"Why’s
he painted?" Blair held up his hand.
"So
he can merge with the shadows."
"Why
does he want to merge with shadows?"
"To
view those who do not want to be seen."
"What
are the people who don’t want to be seen, doing?"
"Because…"
Simon looked helplessly at Jamie.
Jamie
shrugged his shoulders.
"Do
you always ask questions?" Simon sounded exasperated.
"Why?"
he responded, more interested in why Joel Nabweh only wore a slivery black
loincloth. It almost looked like a breech clout.
"’Why’
should be his middle name," Simon said in an aside to the laird.
"Joel."
Blair tugged the bodyguard’s loincloth and finally prompted a reaction.
The
man grabbed his loincloth and sighed at him, exasperated. "Yes, Your
Highness?"
"Aren’t
you cold? Perhaps it would be easier if you wore black clothes? If you go out
when it rains, do you run?"
"A
veritable font of questions," Simon noted.
"You
said it."
"He
should be encouraged – he should have tutors."
"He’s
only five, it can wait a while." Jim gently countered the Wizard Sultan’s
words. "I will teach him."
"I
disagree – he should be guided."
Blair
stopped tormenting the bodyguard. Jamie and Simon were talking about him. Simon
thought that he should be guided? He wasn’t too sure what that meant. He didn’t
like the sound of that. Cassie had said something about ‘guiding’, she had said
that it was a bad thing. Guides were horrible, the worst sorts of nasty demons
– Cassie had said.
‘Leya
spat arching her back, hissing at an unseen foe. Jamie spun on his heel,
scanning the room around him. Simon lifted his arms, his robe sleeves fell back
revealing his hands wreathed in golden light.
Joel
unsheathed his scimitar. Blair was promptly distracted – where had he hidden
that gianormous long scimitar? He just wore a little dinky cloth.
"I
felt a threat," Jamie and Simon said simultaneously.
"It
was ephemeral," the budding sentinel finally grated out.
The
Zeller and Chancellor Lash were striding across the wooden floor to their side.
"What
happened?" The Zeller intoned. His strange mirror-like eyes assessed them.
"Something
moved in the worlds beyond ken," Simon drew himself upright and stared
down his nose at the ministers. Chancellor Lash looked away but The Zeller met
his gaze evenly.
"A
threat to the Queen?" The Zeller asked.
"Mama?"
Blair piped up.
Jamie
immediately crouched at his side. "No, my prince. I did not sense that
your mother was in danger. It was a… future threat?" He looked to the
Wizard Sultan for confirmation.
"I
agree, Laird Jamie. But I do not know in what form the threat will take. I felt
almost as if…"
"Someone
had died," Jamie supplied as he straightened into a standing position.
"Or
a decision of important ramifications had been made." Simon shook his
head. "No, not that… but similar."
‘Leya
meowed gently reminding Blair that Becky wanted to see them. He left the adults
arguing in the corridor. The D’neirf walked by a wall with one of the little
knotholes which opened a secret door.
Pausing
by it, Blair asked, "Not going in the passages?"
‘Leya
continued down the corridor. Blair pouted; the passages were fun.
"Hey!"
Jamie came running down the corridor his kilts flying. His face was suffused
with blood and the pulse at his temple was hammering. "Don’t run
off."
"I
didn’t run," Blair protested. "I was going to see Becs."
Jamie
huffed loudly and reset his plaid across his shoulders with firm angry motions.
"You’re going to give me grey hairs before I’m twenty."
"Really?"
Blair squinted up at the laird’s golden hair; he couldn’t see any grey.
An
unintentional smile crossed Jamie’s face. Laughing, at some unknown joke, Jamie
held out his hand. Blair reached up and let him curl his fingers around his
palm.
"Where
is Becky?"
"I
dunno, I was going to your eyrie."
Jamie
shook his head and continued laughing.
~*~
There
wasn’t a lot in his room to entertain the little prince. Jamie opened the trunk
at the bottom of his bed and pulled out some old toys that his gillie had
inadvertently packed when he had returned to court. There was a rather mangled
cuddly wolf that had listened to many a trauma.
"This
is Jammy – I’ve had him a very long time."
"Why?"
Blair poked it with his finger.
"Just
one of those things." Jim really couldn’t think of a good reason.
"Most people have a cuddly toy."
"I
had some, they’re in a cupboard, Cassie said so they don’t get dirty." His
chubby hand brushed the balding fur.
"They’re
supposed to get dirty." He turned in a circle scrutinising his room.
"So, no Becky."
Blair
nodded, more interested in showing Jammy to ‘Leya. The kit batted its cloth
nose. Blair jerked the toy back and ‘Leya pounced on its tail. Realising that
the prince was occupied for the moment, he decided to take advantage of the
lull.
"I’m
going to take a bath. Blair?"
"All
right, Jim," he said absently and dropped Jammy on ‘Leya. The kit spun on
her back and clamped her claws around the toy’s head. A tug of war began.
Jamie
locked the door to his quarters and took the key into the en suite bathroom
hoping to foil any escape attempts.
Rainwater
filled a cistern above his rooms. The pure water soothed his nerves better than
any other source in the castle, including the palace well. Mentally reviewing
the firespell, he made sure he had all the details and intricacies before he
cast and warmed the water above his head.
Knowing
that his prince would only remain distracted for a short time, he kept on ear
firmly honed in on the child as he washed. Still listening – Blair was telling
some involved tale to the toy – he shaved his jaw. The child had quite an
imagination. The tale was a fairly accurate retelling of how the She Wolf
Fenedra created Acharn. What Blair didn’t know, he made up.
Jim
threw his grubby plaid into the washing hopper. He pulled on a clean cotton
ghillie shirt and debated on whether to wear the great kilt or his little kilt.
Blair’s
narrative stopped. Jim darted back into his room. The prince looked up as Jim
appeared, he was curled up on the laird’s narrow bed with Jammy and ‘Leya.
There didn’t look like there was a mischievous bone in his body.
Keeping
one eye firmly on Prince Mischief he selected his fealeadh beg from closet and
wrapped it around his narrow waist.
"That’s
different from your other kilt," Blair noted, as Jamie secured the buckles
at his hip and then pinned the folds with his house pin where the tartan gaped.
"This
is the fealeadh beg – the little kilt. It’s more appropriate for running around
the castle than the feileadh mhor – the kilt I drape over my shoulder." It
was also a pain to get into, he had to lay out the skein of material on the
floor on top of a belt and set the pleats by hand. Then he had to lie on top of
it before belting it around his waist. He was sure Blair would find the whole
process fascinating.
He
selected a well tailored doublet to accompany the kilt.
"Your
kilt’s wonky."
Jim
grumbled and resituated his kilt so it rested on his knees, precisely.
"Can
I have a kilt?"
"When
you’re eighteen." Jamie sat on his bed beside the prince and pulled on his
socks and tucked his Sgian Dubh by his calf.
"Why
not now?"
"Just
the rules, I suppose." Jim slumped on the bed beside the prince.
"I’ll tell you what, I’ll ask the Seamstress, Lady Linda. She can cut down
one of my kilts."
Blair
brightened up considerably. "Can I have a purse too?"
"It’s
a sporran." Jamie belted the sporran around his waist.
"Spowan?"
"Spo-rr-an.
You put your keepsakes in it – to keep them safe."
"Oooh!"
Blair suddenly straightened. His already wide eyes opened considerably.
"What!"
Jamie bounced to his feet, drawing his dirk.
::Hello::
"Becky,"
Jim breathed a sigh of relief.
::Greetings::
"Hi,
Becky." Blair slithered off the bed, and toddled across the room, Jammy
tucked under his good arm and ‘Leya at his heels. He stopped beside the dresser
and looked up.
Jamie
crossed to his side, and crouched beside him. "Can you see Becky,
Blair?"
"Yes."
Blair cocked his head to the side, and almost hid a mischievous glint behind a
veil of curls. "You can’t?"
"No."
Jim reached out and brushed the curls aside. "I can hear her,
though."
"I
wants her to teach me how to walk through walls."
"I
don’t think Becky will do that, will you?"
::No:: Becky
replied smartly.
"You
wanted to talk to us?"
::Yes, Laird Jamie, you need to go down to the dungeons, but tonight…
late… when the castle sleeps. And you need to watch yourself, there is evil
afoot in the castle. You need to take some Elvenberry sap with you, too::
"Why?"
::I do not know. I am only the messenger:: And with that cryptic comment, Jim
felt her ethereal presence whisper away.
"Oooo."
Blair was joggling on the spot, quivering with anticipation. "It’s an
adventure."
"Oh,
no," Jamie said emphatically. "You’ll be asleep in your suite."
"No.no.no.no.no."
Blair shook his head, vigorously, his curls flying wildly. "She told me
too!"
"Prince
Blair, you will not. The message was for me. I would be failing my
responsibilities to you, if I allowed you to become involved in this
matter."
In
the face of such stubbornness, Jim knew that extreme measures would be called
for, both Rafe and Henri, would be watching Prince Blair tonight.
"Tis
not fair," Blair grumped.
Jamie
mocked scowled back at him, resisting the temptation to tell him that ‘such was
life.’
"Elvenberry
sap. I wonder what Elvenberry sap is?" Jamie mused. What did one do with
Elvenberry sap?
"I
knows someone who will know."
Jamie
regarded Prince Mischief. The child smirked up at him, rocking on his heels
merrily.
"You’re
not five, are you? You’re the reincarnation of King Sandburg."
"What’s
re-in-carnation?"
"I’m
kidding." Jamie scooped Blair up, and nestled him against his chest.
"Your grandfather was still alive when you were born – you cannot be his
reincarnation."
"I’m
bright," Blair proclaimed. "Seah says so. Robyn say so, Mags says so.
I know things."
"So,
my little genius, who will know about Elvenberry sap?"
"Robyn!"
Blair bounced in his arms.
Jim
hung his head in shame, of course – the Tree Dryad would indeed know.
~*~
Danbush
saw them coming and ran away and hid in his shed. The oak leaves shivered as
they approached. The canopy seemed to reach down to shelter them from view.
Jamie marvelled at the dappled sunlight streaming through the leaves and
branches. There was a myriad of colours, some of which he had never known
existed. In the highest branches a squigel jumped from acorn to acorn
harvesting them for its babes. The top of the tree was nigh on one hundred
steps above his head. He could no longer gainsay his gifts – he was now a
Sentinel. A fist of fear clenched in his stomach. He didn’t hold the key, how
could he wield the gifts?
Two
brown doe-like eyes blinked down at them. Slowly, Robyn eased away from her
tree, limbs becoming visible and distinct from the bark. Jamie knew his legends
but he didn’t know if the dryad was an extension of the tree or a separate
entity.
"Your
Highness." Robyn pulled Blair into the lower branches. "Bad prince;
you should not have climbed so high."
"Sorry."
Blair pillowed his head against her breast. "Did I hurt you?"
"No
damage that can’t be repaired." Her twig like fingers brushed Blair’s
swollen fingers sticking out from his brace.
Below
them, Jamie judged that jumping to grab the branch above his head and swinging
up by wrapping his legs around the lowest branch might work. He hated climbing
in a kilt.
Jamie
checked for any maids or young ladies sunning themselves in the orchard, seeing
that it was all clear – he jumped. The branch beside him moved to help, and he
swung his leg to haul himself up with little effort.
"You
can climb," Blair said gleefully, from his comfortable position on Robyn’s
lap.
Jamie
wiggled into a relatively comfortable position, shifting his kilt beneath his
thighs, protecting them from the rough bark.
"Even
in a kilt."
The
dryad smiled inscrutably.
"Greetings,
I am James William Forest d’Ellison of the House of Ellison, Heir to the
Northern Mountains." He bowed his head, all the while keeping a firm grip
on the branch.
"Robyn,
advisor in matters of Danu to the Royal Family of Acharn."
"My
name is Blair, just Blair," he piped up.
Both
Dryad and Sentinel laughed.
"You
are: His Royal Highness Prince Blair Nechtan Finn of the House of
Sandburg-Bran, Holder of the Keys to the Weardian, Heir to the Lands of Acharn
and Protector of the People."
"That’s
my name? Coor, that’s a big name."
"You’ll
grow into it." Jim ruffled his curls, then turned his attention to matters
at hand. "Milady, I wonder what you can tell me of Elvenberry sap and
where we could get some?"
"Tis
a restorative, it brings life and vitality. I do not have any. But Mags in the
kitchen may if you are very, very lucky. It is a rare and otherworldly
elixir."
"Mags?"
Jim asked.
"Mags
is the old head cook. She’s a--" Blair concentrated, "--a herbalist.
She teaches me."
"Life
and vitality," Jim mused. A ghost wanted a potion that brought life and
vitality. Or there was someone in the dungeons who needed Elvenberry?
"Elvenberry
has another use – it can be a soporific, if the burnt fumes are inhaled."
"You
learn something new every day."
"I
do!" Blair chirped.
~*~
Holding
Blair’s hand firmly, Jamie ventured into the kitchens for the second time in
one day, when previously he had never ventured into the servants’ domain.
Dinner was being prepared and the scents were divine. The hustle and bustle
threatened to overwhelm him.
"Mags."
Blair tried to leave the Sentinel’s side. Jamie came back to himself and held
the prince firmly.
"Sweetie."
An ancient crone turned milky eyes in their direction. "Who is your
friend?"
Blair
dragged him through the mess of cooks all working with military precision. One
man paused in kneading a ball of dough and turned white on realising that
royalty had entered the kitchens. He dropped his bread and scurried out to the
oven room.
"This
is," Blair took a deep breath. "James William Forest d’Ellison of the
House of Ellison, Heir to the Northern Mountains."
"Child,
are you in trouble?" Tapping her stick against the stone floor, she picked
her way unerringly to their side.
Jim
felt himself assessed by her blind eyes and he found himself wanting. It wasn’t
a sensation he was familiar with. Canting her head to the side, Mags sniffed,
crouched with a speed belying her age and ran knowing fingers over the prince,
stopping at the brace.
"I
smell willow draught – are you in pain, child? Did you break your arm? Who
mended it?"
Jamie
held firm as Mags’ fingers enveloped his wrist and attempted to break his grip
on the prince.
"Cindy
Lou mended it. It was proper broke, it was all in pieces." Blair leaned
forward conspiratorially. "I saw all the little spiky bits. Cindy Lou made
them glow gold and put them back together."
Horrified,
Mags caught his arm in her hands and bowed over the brace. Jamie felt a stir of
herbal magic.
"It
is perfectly done."
"The
Court Physician is the premier physician of the Land," Jamie said evenly.
"Sweetie,
the Court Physician healed thee?"
"Cindy
Lou mended it."
"Thank
you for looking after him, sir." Mags fixed him with a horribly intense
glare.
"Thank
you, for looking after Prince Blair."
"He
helps me, sir. And he’s the brightest little soul I have ever met," Mags
said passionately. "He deserves better than being a page at his young age.
I know that his duties are few but he should be at home with his mummy… Prince
Blair?" Mags’ fingers found the royal crest at Blair’s collar.
"Prince
Blair Nechtan Finn of the House of Sandburg-Bran, Holder of the Keys to the
Weardian, Heir to the Lands of Acharn and Protector of the People," Blair
recounted. "It’s a big name, Blair is easier to say."
"Granny!
The Laird Jamie…Ooops."
"That’s
my great granddaughter, Matilde Louise, the Head Cook."
The
much younger woman, who bore no resemblance whatsoever to her granny, curtseyed
deeply. "My Lord, how may I help you?"
"I
wish to speak to your granny, thank you."
"Mags?"
Blair sidled up to the herbalist’s side. "Can I have a honey cake? I’m
hungry."
She
snorted and then laughed a rib tickling laugh. "Of course, you can,
sweetie." She took his good hand and led him over to the fire. "You
can indeed have a honey cake."
"Milord?"
Matilde Louise curtseyed again, her long skirts brushing the stone cobbled
floor. "May I help you?"
Jamie
looked at Blair happily ensconced on Mags’ lap and devouring a honey cake.
Blair had friends; friends that had looked out for him when he had been at home
in his beautiful Highlands, learning at Kelso and Wolfe’s knee. He should have
been here for the prince too. Protecting him from Cassie. What had that bitch
poisoned the child’s mind with?
"Sire?"
Matilde asked again.
Jamie
coughed, covering his unease. "Your grandmother is a herbalist?"
"Yes,
milord. A true herb witch."
"Has
she taught you?"
"Yes,
milord, some of the art."
"Would
you have any Elvenberry sap?"
Matilde’s
brow furrowed as she thought. "It is a powerful linctus, sire," she
said tentatively.
"Do
you have any?"
Reluctantly,
she drew a heavy wrought iron key from her bodice. "I have a small
vial."
"I
require it." He held out his hand.
"It
is a rare and powerful. I… cannot… simply give it to you. It is
dangerous."
"Tell
me how it is administered. I will not abuse it," Jim grated, standing
tall, attempting to cow the woman.
"Milord?"
"It
is in the interests of Acharn that I procure this ‘Elvenberry sap’, I
insist."
Shaking
her head, she padded over to the slate dressed cold room. The young woman was
patently unnerved by his presence, but was not blindly going to give up the
drug. Jamie dogged her heels as she unlocked a small metal crafted cabinet. In
her hand she held a tiny glass vial. It was dark blue, only as long as his
index finger. The liquid inside glowed to his sentinel eyes.
"Milord."
She kept her fingers wrapped around the vial. "An adult can take no more
than two drops in a day or he will drop into a stupor and never awaken. You
cannot abuse it."
"And
if I burnt it."
Her
eyes narrowed. "Five drops over a fire – and then do not inhale if you do
not want to sleep for a night and a day."
"So
be it." He held out his hand.
She
held the vial to her breast, almost daring him to take it. Then unwillingly she
relinquished it into his care.
"I
give you the word of a Sentinel that I will not misuse it."
Her
eyes widened at his declaration. "Milord, your gifts? They have
woken?"
Jamie
refused to be drawn and immediately turned on his heel exiting the room.
She
ran to his side. "Sire, if you have come into your gifts take only one
drop, perhaps even less. Please, sire, only one drop."
"I
understand. Two drops for a mundane and one drop for a sentinel."
"That’s
rude!" Blair yelled from the safety of the fireplace. "That’s a rude
word! Jimmy said a rude word."
Jamie
hung his head, grimaced, and then controlled his expression by pure force of
effort.
"Jimmy
said a rude word," Blair continued sing-song. "Jimmy said a rude
word."
"Blair,
behave."
Blair
grinned up at him, his curls tumbling around his face. "Jimmy said a rude
word." He rolled around on Mags’ lap, laughing uproariously.
Jamie
resisted the temptation to bite his knuckles in frustration. "Yes, my
prince, that was very bad of me. I should not call people mundanes."
"Mundanes. Tossers. Bints…" Blair sang.
"Prince
Blair!" Jamie snapped.
Blair
clapped a hand over his mouth, but said in an aside to Mags, "How come he
can say rude things?"
"Because,"
Mags said quietly, "he’s big."
"Not
fair."
"True."
Jamie plucked the prince from Mags’ knee. "But that is the way the world
turns."
"Still
not fair." Blair twisted in his arms. "Did you get the
Elvenberry?"
"Elvenberry?"
the ancient herbalist asked sharply.
"I
have sworn the oath of The Sentinel that I will not misuse it. It is a matter
of great importance that I have the potion," Jamie addressed the woman.
"Becky,
she’s the guardian of the castle and a ghost, sez that Jim needs it because
there is evil afoot in the castle." Blair supplied helpfully. "I think
nasty Chancellor Lash and his nasty son Lash are in it – ‘cos bad things happen
when they’re around. And also the DhuSidhe and Filbog ‘cos they live in
dungeons and Jamie has to go to the dungeons but he won’t let me go because I’m
little. Which isn’t fair – ‘cos I’m bright. And you know, I don’t like
Minister Trevellyan ‘cos he smells."
Jamie’s
mouth dropped open. Mags and Matilde were staring at the prince with shocked
expressions on their faces.
"Not
a word of this to anyone," Jamie blurted.
The
two herbalists nodded emphatically.
The
other members of the kitchen staff were deliberately not listening.
Jamie
nodded at the two women then bolted.
~*~
Gather closer around the campfire. Listen, things are happening. Ghosts with
messages from the unknown. Secret assignations in the dungeons. And why does
Jamie need Elvenberry sap?
~*~
Jamie
chased Blair around the suite, determined to wear him out so he would fall
asleep and not get involved in the night time activities. If an adult had
broken his arm he would have retreated to bed and moaned, but the healing
powers of a child allowed Prince Blair to bounce back to health. Jamie dreaded
to think what Blair would be like as an adolescent. His own thirteenth birthday
had been a time of much rebellion, whinging and evil doing.
Blair
started throwing cushions at him.
The
child certainly had a pure unabashed appreciation of life.
Jamie
gently lobbed them back at him. Blair was laughing, a laugh which begged you to
join in. The D’neirf kit had retreated to the top of the wardrobe and was
watching them. Jamie pounced onto the bed and caught Blair, lightly tickling
his sides.
"No!"
Blair howled. And Jamie let him wiggle away.
Blair
attacked, bouncing on his chest. Jamie dropped onto the mattress, allowing the
prince to pin him to the bed. His little chubby hand inexpertly tried to
tickle; Jamie laughed anyway.
Blair
flopped onto Jamie’s chest, panting for breath.
"Had
enough?" Jamie sat up.
"No!"
Blair proclaimed, but he stayed sprawled on his tummy.
"Uhmmm,
time for a bath." Jamie gathered the prince up. A warm bath and a cup of
milky hot chocolate would put the prince to sleep.
~*~
As
the moon slipped beyond the highland mountains on the horizon, an absolutely
knackered Jamie deftly slipped a sleepy Prince Blair into bed. Blair had been
indefatigable, but had finally succumbed to a story and a draught of Cindy
Lou’s potion for his arm. The prince curled around his new friend, the cuddly
wolf called Jammy, as ‘Leya snuggled in behind his knees. Blair yawned, showing
a wiggly front tooth. His eyes slipped shut and then he was asleep.
Jamie
carefully tucked the warm quilt around his charge. The child’s breathing was
deep and steady – he was deeply asleep. A light tap on the door announced Henri
and Rafe’s entrance into the royal suite.
Jamie
held his fingers to his lips. "Shhhhh," he whispered.
Henri
cocked his finger, beckoning Jamie into the antechamber. Jamie double-checked
the balcony window before slipping into the other room.
"What
did you find out about the Lady Cassandra?"
"The
Duchess Michelle was most helpful," Rafe began. "It seems that she
was sponsored by Chancellor Lash."
"Lash?"
Jamie hissed.
"Yes,
Chancellor Lash and the Lady was known to associate with his son, Davy,"
Henri added.
"How
do you know this?" Jamie asked.
"I
spoke with the pages. One should never underestimate pages; they are a font of
information," Rafe said sagely.
"The
fact that Chancellor Lash was her sponsor provides us with no real evidence,"
Jamie spoke out loud.
"True,"
but Henri’s tone rebuked his disheartened words, "but to place a corrupt
person so close to the prince requires time and effort and wealth – we must
have a veritable nest of snakes amidst the castle."
"I
fear that that is true." Jamie moved over to the fireplace, leaning
tiredly against it. "Did Kincaid take my message to my grandfather?"
"I
gave it to the messenger myself," Rafe said. "He left first
thing."
"If
he rides fast and changes horses at the way stations, and then catches a ship
at New Castle he should arrive at Bruncladhic in the next seven days. It will
take another seven days for my father and grandfather to reach the capital. I
think we have to continue our investigations."
"As
if you could just sit back and wait for your grandfather to arrive." Henri
laughed.
Jamie
had the grace to look abashed. If he weren’t careful the two older Lords would
guess that he had a mission planned for the eve.
"Can
you watch the prince for a candle mark?" he asked. "I need to get
something from my room." Keep the lies simple; that had been the first
thing he had learned from his grandfather.
"To
be sure." Rafe sagged onto an armchair beside the fire. A stiletto
appeared as if by magic and he began to pare his fingernails.
Henri
bowed. "No one shall pass us."
Jamie
looked at the dapperly dressed Lord Assassin and the Adjutant to the Wizard
Sultan, both of whom were well trained and the heirs of their respective
families.
"I
think it would be wise if you stayed in his bedroom."
"Ah."
Rafe laughed depreciatively. "I suppose you’re right. He is a devious
little so-and-so and he is liable to sneak away. You know, the prince would
make a good assassin; I could recommend to the council that he be trained. The
earlier you start training the better…"
"No!
He is a child, he should enjoy his childhood for as long as possible."
Jamie put his foot down.
"You
are right." Rafe sighed, wisely. "There are some things that no one
should learn."
~*~
Dressed
in the darkest blacks shrouding his distinctive plaid, Jamie hugged the
shadows. His nascent sentinel abilities searched the lay of the land. The
reverberating echoes of the abandoned dungeons threatened to overwhelm him.
Jamie bit the soft flesh of his thumb, forcing focus.
The
ever present drip-drip of the water running down the walls grated down his
backbone as if nails rasping across a blackboard. He craned his head, to look
over the parapet, into the dungeon courtyard below. The cells surrounding the
square exercise area were empty. No prisoners lay in manacles. But torches
guttered in their holders. There should not have been any lights. The dungeons
were abandoned to storage and cargo at the decree of Queen Catherine, Prince
Blair’s great-great-grandmother. The criminals and warmongers were educated
until they were ‘cured’ on the Isle of Schooling and the Druids of Acharn
nursed the insane.
The
dungeons should have been abandoned.
Obviously
they were not.
Jamie
pulled his hood over his golden hair. He would get to the bottom of this if it
killed him. He would protect the prince and, ostensibly, the Land.
Hugging
the walls, Jamie crept toward a soft murmuring. Voices spoke in hushed tones.
Nothing good was afoot.
Jamie
tried to focus, but he could not understand the words. His control was poor.
His heart in his mouth he crept forward. He concentrated with all his heart and
soul, he had to protect the prince.
"…the
prince…"
He
heard that clearly. His hearing locked onto his charge’s name and his sight
followed. Around the corner, in an abandoned cell, he could see no less than
six cowled figures, a coven of evil, clustered around a flaming brazier.
"Jamie
may yet thwart our plans."
"How?
He is a child himself," another voice said dismissing him as a threat.
"I
think that his gifts have been awoken." The voice was male, hoarse and
roughened by time.
"How?"
another snapped.
His
heart in his mouth, Jamie crept towards the voices, skirting the walls. He
recognised one, he could not believe it. By the Goddess his world was ending.
This could not be happening.
"He
bonded with the prince," the first voice spoke, the one that he knew so
very well.
"How?
Cassie corrupted the brat. He no more wants to be a guide, than I do."
That voice was unknown.
"If
the prince dies our victory is assured."
Jamie
barrelled around the corner. "Father! How can you say such a thing?"
he demanded.
William
Judas Iubdan d’Ellison inheritor to the House of Ellison slowly turned to stare
at his son. "You should not be here."
The
other five cowled figures slowly turned. His sentinel sight catalysed, Jamie
was appalled to recognise The Zeller and Chancellor Lash standing with his
father. And he could have sworn that the portly man toward the back of the
assembly room was Lord Trevellyan.
‘By the Goddess, the whole council is corrupt!’
One
figure, whom he did not recognise, raised a hand. "Kill him."
End Chapter II.
~*~
Chapter III.
~*~
Do you remember what happened last? Jamie’s Father is part of the evil cadre
but we still don’t know what they’re planning. Cassie’s goal was to corrupt the
prince and prevent him from ever becoming the guide to the Sentinel. Has she
succeeded?
~*~
"Kill
him."
His
father drew his sword.
Jamie’s
thoughts stuttered to a halt. His father had actually obeyed the order. He
would have simply stood and stared except for the Mage at his father’s side.
Energies churned about the skeletally thin man. Circling tighter and tighter
they found their focus in his soul dead eyes. Lightning arched.
Jamie
ducked and made to flee, the bolt missed him by a hairsbreadth.
"Get
him!" A female voice screamed.
‘Lords and ladies!’ He ran knowing that the hounds of seven hells were at his heels. The
upper level of cells were too exposed; he had to find cover from the Wild
Strike Mage. Another bolt of lightning gouged a lump of rock from the dungeon
wall by his head. Jamie vaulted over the parapet into the dungeon courtyard
below. He dropped lightly, rolling into a ball to break his fall.
It
was still too open. He had played here as a page and he knew that the dark
doorway ahead of him led to the prison infirmary. Dodging and ducking he ran
pell-mell towards escape.
Another
lightning strike charged through the air. The wave of burnt air threw him forwards
through the door. Rolling smoothly to his feet he chanced a look over his
shoulder. The Wild Strike Mage rode the ball of lightning to the dungeon floor.
The cadaverous looking man raised his hands in preparation to throw another
spell.
A
harsh voice began the intricate incantation leading to a firestorm.
If
the spell was exploded in the corridor he would be burnt to a crisp. Jamie
froze; there was no escape. The Zeller appeared behind the Mage, his macabre
grin mocking – anticipating his death.
Jamie
knew that he was going to die and the prince would be next.
But
a sentinel couldn’t miss the stench of the castle sewers. The drains filtered
through the castle, the many threads coming together in a larger channel
exiting at the base of the castle.
‘Where?’
Jamie looked to the left and the right, his sentinel eyes expanding to scan
the dark world around him.
‘There!’
A
dark hole, darker than the corridor around him led to – by the sound of it –
churning water. Jamie didn’t hesitate. The smell was beyond belief. Anywhere
else in the castle the sewer drain would have been covered – but in the
dungeons it was a mere slop hole.
Jamie
jumped through it, feet together. The slime caking the walls aided his passage.
"No!
Don’t let him escape."
His
last glance as he slid out of reach was The Zeller’s sword in a downward stroke
missing his head by a mere fraction.
~*~
Blair’s left alone
Blair
woke up because his arm was hurting. He opened one eye, since there was a horrible
grating noise and if it was a monster he didn’t want to let it know that he was
awake ‘cos it would jump on him and eat him up. Sa’Leem Henri was draped over a
chair beside his bed, his head tipped back as he snored and snored and snored.
There was a long person curled up at the bottom of the bed. Curious, Blair sat
up and realised that the Duke of Rafe was asleep on top of his quilt.
Then
Blair realised that there was a gaping hole in his room – no Jim.
"Hey,
Sweetie." Rafe was awake in an instant.
"Jamie?
Where’s Jamie?"
"Jamie
went to his room to get something. He asked us to stay here."
"No
Jim," Blair said mutinously.
"You’re
right; no Jamie – but we’re here, aren’t we as good?"
"No
Jim." Blair kicked off his patchwork quilt, crawled to the edge of the
high bed and dropped onto the floor. "Where’s Jim?"
He
padded over to the garderobe, but Jim wasn’t there. Lord Rafe shadowed him as
he checked the wardrobe and the walk-in closet. The music box on top of the
fireplace caught his attention. The D’neirf had opened the passage behind the
fire by pawing the box. But Blair couldn’t reach it.
"Where’s
Jim?"
‘Leya,
curled up on a pillow, peeked out from under her tail. She meowed.
"The
dungeons?" Blair asked the D’neirf. The castle ghost had told them to go
to the dungeons.
"What
about the dungeons?" Rafe crouched beside him, so that they were level.
"Becky
told Jamie to go to the dungeons, ‘cos there’s evil afoot in the castle. She
said to take Elvenberry sap. I was supposed to go too."
Rafe
gripped his shoulders. "Tell me again."
Blair
sighed at the obtuseness of adults. "Becky told Jamie to go to the
dungeons, ‘cos there’s evil afoot in the castle. She said to take Elvenberry
sap. I was supposed to go too."
"Who’s
Becky?"
Henri,
still decorously draped over his chair, snorted and then blinked. Licking his
lips, he sat up. "What’s happening?"
"Becky
told Jamie to go to the dungeons, ‘cos there’s evil afoot in the castle. She
said to take Elvenberry sap. I was supposed to go too," Blair said again.
Henri
jerked upright in his chair. "What?"
"Shhh!"
Rafe hissed over his shoulder at the older man, and then turned his attention
back to Blair. "Who is Becky?"
"Becky’s
a friend."
Rafe
gritted his teeth. "Does she work in the castle?"
Blair
shook his head.
"She’s
not in the castle?"
"No."
Blair shook his head, again
"Blair,
tell us who Becky is, how you met her and what she told you."
Sighing
deeply, Blair began. "Becky’s guardian of the castle and a ghost. I can
see her but Jamie can only hear her. I met her in Jamie’s eyrie, when Jamie
took me there after we saw the Veb. What was the other question?"
"Ghost?
You saw a ghost."
"Yeth,
and Jamie only hears it." Blair smirked. "Jamie was peeved when
he found out that I can see her. I can’t see her properly but she wears old
clothes like in the pictures in the old gallery. You know the big one along the
wall beside the fire where the warrior’s got a long flaming sword and she’s
facing down the Hordes of Delsha?"
It
was Rafe’s turn to nod.
"Tis
a costume like that."
"So
what did she tell you?" Henri asked refusing to be side tracked.
"Becky
told Jamie to go to the dungeons, ‘cos there’s evil afoot in the castle. She
said to take Elvenberry sap. I was supposed to go too."
"And
nothing else?" Henri was now crouched beside Rafe.
"That’s
all she said. No no. no. no. that’s not true. She said that she was only the
messenger. Then she went poof and disappeared."
Rafe
fired an adult glare at Henri. Blair didn’t like it when they started passing
messages that way. They weren’t any words for him to suss. But Henri was
scared, he could tell that; the lights he saw around people -- that didn’t
quite flash in his eyes but in his head -- were spiky and swaying like dried
grass in a thunderstorm.
Rafe
was different, Rafe was always shiny sliver or smiley, Blair couldn’t read him.
But
that was fine, there were other ways to figure out what the big people were up
too.
"Feck!"
Henri said succinctly.
Blair
perked up; they had come to a decision. Maybe now they would go down to the
dungeons and find Jamie. He grabbed Jammy from the bed and tucked her under his
arm. ‘Leya twined around his feet waiting on the adults to get their act
together.
"What
about the prince?" Rafe asked.
‘No,’
Blair thought, ‘they’re not going to leave me out.’
"Who?
The Duchess Michelle is with the Queen; she cannot be disturbed."
"Is
there nobody else in the castle we can trust?"
"My
honoured Master, the Lord Sultan."
"Oh,
great, way to look like a secure and uncorrupted royal
court."
"Where
were you born? I’ve never been to an uncorrupted royal court."
"The
Zeller?"
"You
know, I don’t like him. He’s too emotionless."
"We
can’t take the prince with us."
Blair
started towards the door. If he was lucky perhaps they had left the door
without the handle open, and then he would be able to find Jim.
"Ah
a ah!" Henri caught the prince by his collar and swung him against his
hip.
"HURTS!"
Blair wailed.
Henri
dropped him like a hot potato. The Sa’Leem had trapped his poorly arm against
his side.
"Oh,
I’m so sorry! I am so sorry!"
Blair
sniffled; that had hurt… lots.
"Oh,
I’m so sorry." Henri chucked him under the chin, trying to entice a smile.
"Can I see?"
The
Sa’Leem looked really sorry. Blair peered at him through his curls. It was kind
of strange; Henri was really upset. Why? Blair sniffled and then added another
sniffle for good measure. He curled his good arm over his sore arm. He chanced
yet another sniffle – Henri was very contrite. Maybe they would take him down
to the dungeons?
"Oh,
poor little pet," Rafe fretted. The assassin left their side and rifled
through the bottles on the cabinet beside the bed. He picked up the honey
draught that Cindy Lou had given Blair.
"Here
you are, pet." Rafe scooped him up, sitting him on his lap and offered the
purple bottle.
"No."
Blair pushed it away.
"Just
a sip, it will help."
"Come
on, drink it for Rafe," Henri cajoled.
"No."
"His
fingers are a bit pudgy," the adjutant addressed Rafe.
"Jamie
said that the bones in his arm were shattered. It was a nasty break; I’d expect
it to be swollen."
"Come
on, Blair, just a sip. The herbs will bring the swelling down."
Blair
sighed deeply, and took a mouthful of the strange liquid. It evaporated on his
tongue before it drained down his throat. His ears burned pinkly. Rafe gave him
another mouthful before he could stop him. He dribbled some but swallowed most.
"Want
Jamie," he worried.
"We’ll
find him," Rafe vowed.
Blair
glanced hopefully at the assassin. "Pwomise?"
"Ssssssh."
Rafe enveloped him in a blanket, tucking it around his body. He couldn’t
wiggle, he couldn’t move. His nose felt numb. He yawned into Rafe’s chest.
Sleepy lassitude swept over him.
Rafe
carried the prince from bedroom, wrapped like a baby in swaddling.
~*~
Simon joins the tale.
The
Lord and Master of the Secret Lands to the East looked up as his aide entered
his suite with the Royal Assassin of Acharn. The Duke of Rafe held a wrapped
bundle topped with a tumble of chestnut curls in his arms. Curious, Simon
pushed his glasses further up his nose with his finger. The blurred form
resolved into Prince Blair. Unspotted by Rafe, although Henri was no doubt
aware of its presence, a minor air elemental fluttered by Rafe’s shoulder
gazing fondly at the prince.
Simon
placed his nibbed feather in its inkpot.
"Henri?"
"Sire."
Henri bowed deeply. He straightened, chewing his bottom lip nervously.
"Henri,
why are you here? Do you not realise the time? Prince Blair should be in bed.
Explain?"
"The
Laird Jamie is missing. Before we search for him we wish to leave the prince in
a safe place."
"More
detail."
Simon
sat back in his leather backed chair as his adjutant spun some lurid tale about
the young laird investigating the death of the Lady Cassandra, and potentially
the whole court, culminating in a secret assignation in the dungeons. And the
only witness to this insanity was the tiny prince.
The
Sultan had some inkling about what was afoot in the court and Lands of Acharn
as did the Queen Naomi. He and his entourage had journeyed to the green lands
to help and advise his former love while she was indisposed. That the Heir to
the Northern Mountains and the next Sentinel in the famed line of d’Ellison was
on quest could be interpreted as both a good and a bad sign. If the threat was
sufficient to garner a sentinel’s interest it was indeed serious but if a
sentinel was involved, the strongest force in Acharn had been invoked.
Simon
pushed away from his table. "Go find Laird Jamie."
"The
prince, My Lord?" Rafe asked.
Simon
accepted the sleepy bundle. It had been a long time since he had held a baby.
His son Daryl was a cliché ridden, angsty argumentative teenager. Cuddles were
not on the agenda.
"Jamie,"
Blair mumbled sleepily. "Gone."
Simon
jerked his head towards the door, giving the two men his permission to leave.
They did so with alacrity, bouncing off each other as they fought to get
through the door.
"Well,
it’s just you and me, son. Are you going to behave?"
The
mischievous prince had the gall to look innocent.
"Have
you seen--" Blair yawned again, "--my mama?"
"Your
mama’s got a lot on her mind."
"Want
mama. Want Jamie."
"Ssssssh."
For the first time in his life he was baby-sitting and the first order of
business was to put the child to bed. The flighty air elemental tweaking
Blair’s curls read the Sultan’s solemn expression and rode the winds out of the
room following Rafe and Henri. It paused by a protective rune carved into the
lintel, swirling in a ball of winds its form almost indistinguishable. With a
sound that suspiciously sounded like a laugh, it darted through the doorway.
Simon’s protective wards snapped up behind the elemental. The being had entered
with Rafe and Henri, no other elemental beings would be able to enter the
Wizard Sultan’s suite unless he allowed it.
Joel
uncurled from the darkest corner of the room where he had been standing guard.
"Do you require assistance, Sire?"
"We
have a guest. Turn back the blankets on the bed in the spare suite. No, Lord
Rafe and Henri are correct, there are…" He glanced down at the little
prince who was listening to every word. "My room."
Joel
bowed with the grace of a panther.
"Right,
little boy, back to bed."
A
surly cast overtook Blair’s sleepy expression.
Simon
gazed back evenly at the child, and then hefted him higher in his arms.
"Bed."
Wrapped
in the blanket was a cuddly toy wolf. He tucked Blair and the toy in the centre
of his enormous bed and sat on the edge. Only a single lantern illuminated the
room. Blair’s eyes were filled with trepidation. A bedtime story was called for
to put a little boy to sleep.
"I
met your mama when I was twenty-two, she was the same age as Jamie. She’d run
away from home. Your grandfather had all the armies of the Land looking for
her."
"Mama
ran away? Why?"
"She
wanted to see the world. She took a horse from the castle stables and rode like
the wind always following the rising sun. But your mother went on her own and
she didn’t tell anyone where she was going. She didn’t take any supplies. When
she was crossing the Hammergeld a band of rebels captured her."
"Mama,"
Blair whispered half-horrified.
"Not
to worry; the story has a happy ending. Your mama escaped using her wiles and
set off on foot over the Desert Plains of Hammer. She was found by travellers
heading back home to my land – the Secret Lands to the East. They nursed her
back to health, because she’d almost died of thirst. The caravan passed through
Olland and the Steppes until they reached my Land. I’ve been the Sultan of
Hannahanna since I was nine years old. Your mother was in the market when I saw
her and recognising that she wasn’t from Hannahanna I… invited her back to my
palace."
"Did
you have a party?"
Simon
chose his words very carefully. "Yes, we had a party. I got to know your
mama very well. She became my best friend. She had only visited one season when
Jamie’s grandfather with his legion tracked your mama to my city. I didn’t want
your mama to leave. But Naomi convinced me that it was for the best that she
left with d’Ellison, otherwise there would be a disagreement between her people
and mine. She wanted to see more of the world. And I knew that she had
responsibilities and that d’Ellison would teach her what she needed to know
about being the Queen of Acharn."
"Like
Jamie and me?"
"Yes,
like you and Jamie."
"When
I grow up will I be Queen?"
"No,
boys are princes and they grow up to be kings. Girls are princesses and they
grow up to be queens."
"Are
they different?"
"Ah,
a, ah." Simon waggled a finger under his nose. "You only get one
story and then little princes go to bed."
Tucking
the covers around the child and the cuddly toy, he ensured that they wouldn’t
be getting out or turning over in bed. He lowered the lantern wick until a soothing
glow filled the room.
"But
you said you were making friends with mama?" Blair whispered. "But
you were friends."
"Oh."
Simon stopped en route to the door. "I didn’t want her to leave
Hannahanna. Your Mama wanted to go home, preferably via outer Patta Shu. We’re
friends but we haven’t seen each other for a long, long time. We had to make
friends again."
"I
want my mama."
"I
know," Simon said softly. "And I am doing every thing I can to ensure
that she can come back to you."
~*~
A
sodden figure clawed his way up the muddy bank. James William Forest d’Ellison
heir to the House of Ellison collapsed halfway out of the river, coughing up
slimy water. Fingers clenched in the soft mud, he tried, futilely, to haul
himself another hairsbreadth out of the raging river.
He
did not succeed.
His
skin crawled, responding to the slimy, horrible matter he had swum through
during his escape from the castle. The castle sewer system had been an assault
on his senses. He was sure that he had lost himself in the grey space feared by
all sentinels.
Exhaustion
swamped him.
The
sun had risen higher when he opened his eyes once more. Abruptly awake, but
disorientated, he pushed up on his elbows and promptly fell back into the
raging torrent he had barely escaped. The river channelled all of the run off
from the castle crags above. Over the aeons, water had washed away the massive
stones in the centre of the channel. Although ancient legend said that the King
of Acharn had gouged out the river using ancient magicks during his final
battle with the Mage Brack.
Jamie
dragged off his black tunic casting it over his head to make a balloon. He
clung to the float as the torrent washed him further down the river. And away
from his prince.
His
body felt like a leaden weight. The mass of his feileadh mhor threatened to
drag him under, but the great kilt would be invaluable when he reached the
shore. One could not survive in the Great Forest of Acharn just wearing a long
ghillie shirt. A dull numbing pain in his ankle reverberated up his leg. His
ankle was either broken or sprained. It must have happened when he escaped from
the cadre.
Jamie
had flung himself down the sewer chute, out down the waterfall and into the
river to escape certain death. He tried to tell himself that he had had no
choice. But he had left the prince alone.
His
heart clenched. His charge. His prince. And he realised belatedly, his Guide.
He
tried to kick, to propel himself over to the side. White hot agony laced up his
leg, threatening to send him into unconsciousness. Stunned, he held on to his
float and was propelled another furlong from the castle. On the lower plains
the river would slow, but he would be many miles from the castle.
He
swore loudly and expressively at length.
~*~
The
sun rose. Impressively, he had slept or more likely, he admitted bitterly,
drifted into the dark abyss. The water had slowed. He could no longer see the
castle over his shoulder. He was many miles from the prince.
He
had failed his duty.
Kicking
with his good leg, he swam to the side. He picked a sloping edge, beaching
himself on the muddy sand. Inch by inch he dragged himself out of the water.
Once clear, he gave into the luxury of simply curling up on the sand.
His
ankle throbbed with the beating of his heart and the dull throb between his
ears formed a painful counterpoint.
But
he had no time to rest; he had to get back to the castle. The entire council
was corrupt. They also had a Wild Strike Mage in their group. He struggled onto
his knees. Then he remembered, and his heart sank -- his father was in the evil
cadre. It was unbelievable. William Judas Iubdan d’Ellison inheritor to the
House of Ellison was a Sentinel Sinister. The shame would be felt to the
hundredth generation.
"Grandfather!"
he cried.
Desolate,
he collapsed back onto the sand. Was his grandfather even alive? If William had
turned – would he have gone as far to kill his rival and incidentally his
father?
He
had to warn his grandfather.
Focussing,
he turned his thoughts inwards, he was adept but preferred not to touch on
those magics drilled into him by his tutors.
The
pain overwhelmed his concentration. Pushing the pain away, he tried to access
the magic.
The
sun had reached its zenith when he came back to himself.
"Danu,"
he swore as he thudded his forehead against the wet sand. He had completely
lost his focus. With his father’s betrayal he had lost the discipline to wield
what talents he possessed.
"Goddess,"
he prayed, but he could think of no other invocations. The true import was that
he had left the prince alone, but his grandfather was an adult he could protect
himself.
Jamie
staggered to his feet and promptly crumpled as his broken ankle gave way.
"GRANDFATHER,
HEAR ME! PROTECT THE PRINCE!"
Somewhere
at the edge of Acharn, he felt Ellis John Forest d’Ellison gaze out of his
turret window at the storm clouds glowering over the mountain Sgurr na
Bannachdich.
"Chamberlain, alert my legion."
"Yes!"
Jamie thanked the heavens above. Fuelled by terror and guilt he had found the
strength to alert The Sentinel. Vigour leached away from his bones, and he
sank, stunned, back on the cold sand.
~*~
Using
his Sgian Dubh, Jim slit the edge of the black tunic he had used to hide his
plaid. He set the makeshift bandages aside along with two straight branches.
After taking a deep breath he straightened his ankle.
His
scream echoed through the leaves.
"That
hurt so much."
Sweat
dripped off his nose as he braced his ankle. He allowed himself a moment’s rest
before he slid out of his great kilt and twisted the excess water from the
heavy material. Laboriously, on hand and knee, he laid it out on the sand and
clumsily set the pleats. As he lay on the tartan and belted his house plaid
around his waist, he forced himself to remember that come nightfall he would
value the heavy kilt. He set the intricate folds so they rested mid-knee and
secured the plaid over his shoulder with his juniper wolf brooch
He
took stock of his supplies, his dirk was long gone, lost in the rapids, but his
Sgian Dubh – his black knife – rested in his knee sock. He traced the signet of
the pommel that held the clan mark of the Ellisons. He would succeed. He would
return to the castle and ensure that the prince was safe. With great
deliberation he crawled towards the tree line. In the trees he found a sturdy
branch and hauled himself to his feet.
Slowly,
arduously, he made his way upstream back to the castle.
~*~
Simon’s tale
Blair
peeked around the edge of the door. His chestnut curls tousled about his face.
Simon, ensconced by the fire, in his leather armchair glanced at him over a
large journal. Unaware that he was observed, Blair made another furtive scan of
the room.
He
squinted at the corner, where Simon knew that Joel stood camouflaged. The
damnable cat twisted around his ankles. Blair scampered across the floor
towards the window, his toy wolf tucked under his arm.
"Blair?"
The
prince froze halfway to the doors.
He
turned and his tongue peeked between his teeth. "Hello?" he lisped.
"Good
morning," Simon responded politely.
Blair
glanced at the doors, resignation in his eyes, and then he scampered over to
Simon’s side. He peered over Simon’s elbow at the large journal.
"What
are you reading?"
"The
journal of the Mage Brack."
"He
was a bad man." Tongue still caught between his teeth, Blair scaled the
heights of Simon’s armchair and clambered onto his lap.
"I
can read," Blair announced. "Sandburg," he read, "that’s
one of my names. King Sandburg fought the Mage Brack on the pin… pinnic…?"
"Pinnacle
– it’s the summit of a mountain."
"Fank
you." Mercurially, Blair’s attention moved on. "Where’s Jamie?"
"I
don’t know."
Blair
leaned back on Simon’s lap to gaze up at his face. "He went to the
dungeons."
"I
know. Henri and Lord Rafe told me. They looked for him and couldn’t find
him."
"Jamie’s
gone?" Blair asked worriedly. "That’s wrong."
"I
know."
"Why
are you reading a book? Why aren’t you looking for Jamie?"
"I
am."
"In
a book?" Blair turned over a page but he couldn’t see Jamie hidden in the
pages.
"Brack
was a Mage, I thought I might find a spell."
"To
find Jamie?"
Simon
nodded.
"Look
more!" Blair ordered. He patted the pages insistently.
"I
will, but you should go and get dressed. Joel will dress you and take you to
breakfast."
Simon’s
eyes narrowed as Blair looked to the shadows where his bodyguard stood
concealed. No one should have seen the master of the hidden skills. But the
prince was still a child; he had not learned how to overlook the obvious.
Blair
scrambled off his lap, his scabby toy wolf still tucked under his arm. He
headed directly to Joel’s hidey-hole, reached up, grabbed the bodyguard’s hand
and tugged him out of his corner.
"Come
on, I want eggs. I’m not wearing baby clothes. I want a kilt. I’ll let you meet
Mags. You’ll like Mags. Mags is a herbalist. She has a daughter who’s a
herbalist too. I think you should wear black – ‘cos then you won’t get
cold."
Joel
shot Simon a frankly horrified stare as a five year old dynamo towed him out of
the suite.
~*~
Blair’s tale
Blair
explored his new suite. He liked all the weird and wonderful things that Simon
had dotted around his rooms. There were some little figures playing musical
instruments on Simon’s dresser. One of them even danced. A tickling sound of
chiming bells drew him to an engraved box. It was a pretty box -- purple
burnished wood with green edging that had angular patterns the like of which he
had never seen.
He
picked it up between his two hands and carefully transferred it over to Simon’s
big bed. Setting it onto the plush quilt, he kicked off his velvet booties and
clambered up after it. Cross-legged, he studied the box.
"Open!"
The
lid lifted and the sides fell away. A perfect quartz sphere, the breadth of his
outstretched hand, rose, to levitate just before his eyes.
Blair’s
mouth fell open in pure joy. His mama had one of these; it was a magic tool,
not to be played with – ever.
Blair
grinned.
He
tapped the crystal with his finger. "Where’s Jim?"
Within
the depths sparkles stirred. Two motes came together and then another two. A
picture formed. An eagle’s eye swooped over a dark, evergreen forest. Trees
loomed closer as the view moved down, down, down beneath the canopy.
Plaid,
a sharp contrast against the green of the forest, caught his eye.
Jamie.
The
laird struggled through the dense undergrowth, bracing one hand against bark as
he stumbled against the trees. Jamie was covered from head to foot in dirt.
There was a cut on his forehead that bled bright red blood.
"Jamie!
Jamie!"
The
laird froze, then looked up. Blair saw Jamie mouth his name and lift a hand up
to cup the sky. Jamie’s face filled the globe. But Sentinel eyes couldn’t see
him.
"Jamie?"
Blair waved vigorously.
The
laird’s brow furrowed. He scanned to the left and to the right. Then sighing
deeply, he turned away and continued picking his painful way through the
forest.
"Prince
Blair?"
The
ball fell, bouncing on the comforter.
"You
made it go away!" Blair barked at the Sultan.
"None
of that, young man." Simon waved a finger under his nose.
"Jamie
was there. You made him go." Blair picked up the ball and shook it. He
squinted into the depths. "Jamie?"
"How
did you open that box?" Simon plucked the sphere from his palm. "It’s
bespelled."
"I
told it to open."
Simon
squatted down next to him on the bed. Blair shuffled back against the headboard
as the Wizard Sultan passed his hand over the ball. He muttered an invocation
and not a single mote twisted. Sighing heavily, Simon set it aside.
"Child,
has Jamie tested you?"
More
‘adult’ questions, they were always interested in the ‘testing.’ Blair was more
interested in Jammy and ‘Leya.
"Blair,
has Jamie tested you?" Simon’s voice was sharp. "Blair?"
"No."
He shook his head. "Jamie sez that I’m five not fifteen. Minister Zeller
said that I should be ‘tested’ but Jamie sez I have to have now ‘cos I won’t
have it later. I didn’t understand when he said that, though."
Blair
cut suspicious eyes at the Sultan as he raised both hands.
"Jamie
said NO." Blair backed away.
Simon
screeched as the D’neirf landed squarely on the back of his neck. The door
burst open as Joel launched himself through. Scimitar flashing, he streaked
across the floor. Hands scrabbling behind his head, Simon tried to grab the
kit.
"Sire,
hold still." Setting his scimitar aside, Joel wielded his serrated knife.
The
D’neirf hissed mockingly, it jumped to the floor. Joel reacted with shocking
swiftness bringing his knife down. A sudden pop filled their ears as ‘Leya
disappeared in mid-air.
"By
the Sentinel!" Joel swore as he gouged a hole in the carpet.
"By
my grandfather’s mistress!" Simon cussed.
"What’s
a mistress?" Blair asked.
"Your
scabby cat disappeared."
"’Leya’s
not a cat. ‘Leya’s a D’neirf; they’re special."
"It
disappeared."
"’Leya
does that all the time. I haven’t figured out how, though. She twists something
in her head and goes sideways into the dreaming place."
"The
cat is a mage?" Simon’s mouth fell open. "Where did it go, Joel? Has
it reappeared?"
"No,
Lord Sultan." The bodyguard crouched down to scrutinise the room.
Simon
resorted to magical means. Sparkles danced around his head as he wove a new
spell. One twinkle spun and arrowed away, on a direct line of sight from the
D’neirf’s point of departure. Blair scrambled after it, he really wanted to
figure out how ‘Leya used the portals.
"Blair?"
The
prince froze – Simon had a commanding voice. The Wizard Sultan squatted down so
they could see each other eye to eye.
"The
D’neirf opened the box?"
Blair
weighed the pros and cons of the question. He planted his good hand on his
chest and stated, "Yeth."
Inwardly,
he added, ‘the music box.’
"What
did you see?"
"Jim’s
in the woods. He’s got a hurt foot and a cut on his head."
"Do
you know where?"
"Oh."
Blair hung his head in shame; he didn’t know where Jamie was.
"It’s
all right, son." Simon tweaked his nose. "We know that he’s alive.
What sort of trees were they?"
"Green
ones," Blair supplied helpfully.
Simon
smiled tightly. "Did you see the leaves?"
Blair
nodded, curls bobbing in his eyes.
"What
kind were they?"
"Dunno."
He cocked his head to the side. "They were different sorts of trees and
lots of different leaves, broad ones, spiky ones and – yes, I remember – oaks.
I saw a proper Oak. I know what an oak looks like."
"Sounds
like the trees on the plains forests before you get to the castle
escarpment," Simon said thinking out loud. "How did the laird get
down there?"
"Can
we look for Jim, please?" Blair wrapped his fingers around the golden sash
across Simon’s chest and tugged insistently.
"I
will send Joel Nabweh with a detachment of my guard to look for Laird
Jamie." He waved his hand and Joel bowed and exited the room.
"Can
we look as well?"
"We
have to stay here and protect your mother."
"Mama?"
Blair pounced on his words like a kitten on string. "Why do we have to
protect Mama? Is Mama in trouble from Chancellor Lash and Lord Trevellyan
too?"
"Why
do you single out Chancellor Lash and Lord Trevellyan?"
"’Cos
they’re bad men. Chancellor Lash isn’t happy and that makes him hate
people."
"And
Lord Trevellyan?" The Wizard Sultan rocked back on his heels considering
his words.
"He
smells bad."
Simon
snorted. "That’s hardly a reason to dislike the man."
"He
smells real bad," Blair said seriously. "What about mama? I want to
see mama. I’ve been really, really good and I want to see mama."
"Son,"
Simon began. The very gravity of his manner made collywobbles run up and down
Blair’s back. "Your mama’s… not very well. She sleeps a lot, all day and
all the night."
"Mama!"
Aghast, Blair jiggled Simon’s arm. "Mama’s poorly sick? Is she going to
die like grandfather?"
"No,
son, I won’t let that happen."
"You
promise?" Blair stared into Simon’s brown eyes looking for certainty.
He
could not lie. "I will do my best."
"I
want mama!" Crying, Blair bolted from the Simon’s side, running for the
door. It had another infernally high handle. Simon plucked him up as he tried
to reach the knob.
"No.no.no.no.no.
I demand – Cassie said I could demand – I demand to see mama!" He clenched
his good fist and banged against the Wizard Sultan’s head.
Simon
caught Blair’s fist and tucked it against his side. "I will take you to
your mama."
~*~
Ah ha! And thus one secret has been revealed. But what is the evil cadre
up to? Will Jamie return to the castle in time before the pot boils over?
~*~
Jamie’s
ankle gave way for the fifth time in an hour. He tumbled down an embankment,
fetching up in a muddy ditch. Fuming, he pulled himself back up to the deer
trail above on his hands and knees. He had no idea where he was apart from
somewhere in the Great Forest of Acharn. The deer trail had appeared before his
eyes. Jamie had distrusted the coincidence but he had no choice. Walking
through the deep undergrowth with his broken ankle and increasingly blurred
vision was nigh on impossible.
The
Great Forest had never been managed like the woods on the southern plains or
the lower reaches of his Northern Mountain, Sgurr na Bannachdich. A few copse
folk harvested fallen branches, mushrooms, nuts and the such, but logging was
forbidden. Thus trekking through the forest was difficult.
The
path forked. At a quandary he slumped to the earth. One route would probably
led to water. He licked his lips unconsciously. The other probably led to the lair
of – and Jamie sniffed – a boar.
Jamie
gritted his teeth; boars were dangerous. An adult boar could easily kill a
grown man. Several had been known to become man killers. Why couldn’t it have
been a clan of wolves? Wolves were much more reasonable. Unable to struggle
through the dense scrub, he found his feet and picked his way down the trail
leaning on his makeshift crutch. Some two hundred weary steps later the trail
widened. A mishmash of tracks told him that he was indeed on the way to water.
Many animals used the trail, including, Jamie was surprised to see – by the
distinctive cloven tracks – a unicorn.
Hopeful,
he staggered forward. If the unicorn had cleansed the water ahead it might have
healing properties. At the very least he could soak his agonisingly painful
ankle in the waters.
He
broke through the undergrowth into a glade framing a natural pool. The heathers
and grasses around the pool were flattened by the passage of many feet, but the
sun had dried the earth to a hard platter. The water sparkled enticingly. Still
wary, he edged forward. He wanted the water, but with a boar in the vicinity he
also wanted a boar spear.
Startled,
a rabbit bolted for its burrow as he limped along. Swearing words that would
have made his prince dance with glee he struggled the last few steps to the
pool. With a deep heartfelt sigh he plopped down to the earth and dunked his
head straight into the waters.
It
felt divine.
::Greetings::
He
jerked upright, sloshing water on the bank.
"Who’s
there?" He scanned the surroundings. There was no interloper but he had
heard the voice clearly. Eyes narrowed he scrutinised every nook and cranny
from the little rocks hemming the pool to the shrubs bordering the glade.
Belatedly, he realised that someone with fingers and thumbs came to the forest
glade; the stones around the pool were too even, all of the same type and set
with precision.
"Hello,"
he ventured.
The
water of the pool rippled, concentric circles journeyed to the edge and bounced
back to meet back in the centre. The water became unnaturally still like a
mirror. But there was no reflection. Tentatively, Jamie peered into the depths.
A face framed with sea green hair stared up at him. The being’s eyes were
elf-like, canted at the edges and framed with lustrous lashes. Jamie watched as
lizard membranes brushed over the jade eyes.
It
was a water elf.
The
elemental being smiled at him and nodded.
‘Can
you read my mind?’ Jamie thought loudly.
::Yes,
and there is no need to shout::
‘My apologies.’
::I
am Killash of the Keren::
Accepting
the gift of the real name of a fey and the trust it entailed, Jamie
reciprocated. ‘I am James William Forest d’Ellison heir to the House of
Ellison.’
They
now shared names, one could death spell the other.
::Your
clan is one which does the Land much honour. We are indebted to you and yours::
"Ah."
A gentle blush touched Jamie’s fair features. "Uhm, thank you. I haven’t
managed to acquit myself as the Sentinel of Acharn but I hope to continue as my
forefathers…" Jamie’s voice trailed off, remembering that his father was
the basest of men – a traitor to his oaths and realm.
"You
speak falsely." Killash’s spoken voice was surprisingly deep contrast to
her inner voice.
Jamie
watched amazed as the water elf rose from the water. She was taller by easily a
head and as slender as a willow. The grass green hair tumbled in a smooth
waterfall around her shoulders and then brushed the mirror like surface of the
water. She wore a gown of water swirling, chiming rapids.
"I
do not tell lies!" Jamie protested.
"My
apologies. I meant that you are a true heir of your grandfather filled with
honour, bravery, courage and the soul of a Blessed Protector. You are a
Sentinel."
Jim
glared at the elf. "This is very flattering, but…" he grated to a
halt, frustrated. "Can you help me? The prince is vulnerable; there is a
cadre of evil in the castle and here I am in the middle of nowhere!"
"And
what of the Queen?"
"What
of the Queen?" Jamie asked confused. The Queen was so busy that she had no
time for her tiny son. The damn treaty took up all of her time. Jamie knew that
his grandfather – filled with duty – would understand.
"Is
not the Queen at risk?"
Flummoxed,
Jamie realised that the elf was correct. The Queen! He shook his head, tiredly,
he knew intellectually that the Queen was in great danger, but his heart and
soul called out to the child prince.
"The
prince has nobody. The Queen has the Wizard Sultan and the Duchess
Michelle." He cast his eyes heavenwards. "Please can you set me on
the way to the castle? I *need* to get back. They are in danger. The prince is
in danger."
"Come
to me." She held out her transparent arms.
Jamie
balked; tales of drownings at the hands of water sprites were not unusual.
::Trust
me::
His
newborn senses did not help him, how could he tell if an elemental was lying to
him? Her heart beat to a different syncopated rhythm. He was her thrall.
Reluctant, but an unrealised trust made him reach out.
She
drew him into the depths. Warmth enveloped him, easing away the pain in his
bones. He was sure that he slept, but when he emerged from the water the sun
above him had not moved.
The
pain in his ankle was no longer pure, unadulterated agony and his thoughts were
crystal clear. He must have addled his brains when he had been tossed down the
mountain rapids.
The
water swirled around his body as he treaded water. "I thank thee,
Milady."
"It
is an honour. And I can help you further." She pointed to the edge of the
glade, water droplets shimmering from her fingers. A light grey wolf crept from
beneath a willow. It bowed its head, acknowledging the Sentinel of Acharn.
"This
is Tay. He will help you, take you to the edge of Quercus robur and set you on
your way to the castle."
"Quercus
robur?" Jamie asked, still treading water.
"This
is Quercus robur." Her gaze encompassed the forest.
"Oh,
it has another name."
Killash
of the Keren cast a leery eye at him.
"Right."
Jamie bowed his head. Realisation struck him. "I have the true name of the
forest."
"Yes."
Killash slowly sank back into the depths. "Use it well in your
magicks."
Jamie
was alone in the sunlit glade. Strangely peaceful, he paddled to the shore and
crawled back onto the dry grass. The wolf had moved to the edge. It smiled up
at him, tongue lolling from the side of its mouth.
"So
you’re going to help me save the Land?"
The
wolf laughed.
~*~
More protectors stand against the evil threatening the Land of Acharn.
But will our heroes find the source of the threat?
~*~
Blair is told the awful secret
"Mama?"
Blair touched her cold hand. "Mama?"
Blair
turned moist blue eyes up to the Wizard Sultan at his side. Simon gritted his
teeth, the words on his lips stayed unspoken. Confused at the pain he felt all
around him, Blair looked back to his mama. She lay on a soft byre draped in
royal purple. Her head was supported on a flat tasselled cushion. Duchess
Michele, on the opposite side of the strange bed, patted the thin kevlar sheet
keeping his mama warm.
Mama’s
hair was brushed until it shined; the Duchess Michelle was looking after her.
Blair knew that she was his mama’s favourite lady-in-waiting.
"Mama,
please?"
Queen
Naomi slept on.
"What’s
the matter with mama?" he asked piteously.
"Oh,
my darling." The Duchess swooped down and enfolded him in a much needed
hug. She cuddled him close. "Your mama has been bewitched. We’ll break the
spell, I promise – it will just take a small while."
Mama’s
eyes were closed, she just looked like she was sleeping – but the bright light
of her being was dull and cloudy. Mama was normally so bright he basked in her
warmth like a happy lizard in sunlight.
"Mama?"
He leaned out of the Duchess’ hold to grip the Queen’s shoulder. "Please,
mama, wake up." He shook her hesitantly.
She
slept on.
Blair
burrowed his face into Michelle’s neck and sobbed.
~*~
Simon tries to help
Simon
sat Blair on the footstool beside his leather armchair. He crouched at the
child’s level. The young prince’s normal enthusiasm was missing. Even his curls
seemed droopy. A gossamer winged elemental, floating by his shoulder, gazed up
at the Sultan sadly before whipping up the chimney.
Simon
chucked Blair under the chin, but he couldn’t even garner a tiny little smile.
"What’s
the matter with mama?"
"I
don’t know," Simon said seriously, "yet."
"Is
she going to die like grandfather? I think that my daddy died too. Mama never
talks about him."
Simon
rocked back on his heels as he considered his next words. "I don’t know
about your daddy and your grandfather. Your mama had a spell put on her; she
slept a little bit longer every day and felt a little bit more tired. The
Duchess Michelle guessed that it was magic but they couldn’t figure out what
kind of magic. Michelle asked me to come and help because I am your mama’s
friend."
"I
bet the Lashes did it."
"Because
they smell bad?"
"No."
Blair growled and showed his baby teeth. "That’s Lord Trevellyan. ‘Cos of
the dead places in them where the maggots churn."
The
imagery made his stomach turn. Simon knew with a certainty borne of experience that
the prince was d’Ellison’s Guide. That the child was meant to guide a sentinel
meant that he possessed empathy in spades. What other gifts did he possess?
Magick seemed to encircle him, but he didn’t use it consciously. Intelligence,
to be sure, and a curious mix of guilelessness and guile.
How
did a child recognise the darkness in others? How did he have the knowledge to
recognise evil? This was most definitely an old soul sitting before him. He had
a wisdom beyond his years, but it was still tempered by his lack of experience.
Mystical texts stated that only in the direst of personal circumstances did the
immortal soul behind the mask of physical being interact with the world.
‘What has this child suffered?’ Simon wondered.
"No
Jim. Mama’s poorly – this is bad." Blair was worrying at his bottom lip,
looking every inch his five years.
"I
know, but I promise you that I will do my best to find Jamie and heal your mama
and find out what’s happening."
Blair
shuffled off the footstool and toddled over to the windows. He placed his small
palm on the glass. "Bad things are going to happen, aren’t they?"
Simon
stood behind him, towering over the child. Avuncular feelings surged through
him, but somehow he knew that the prince would not let him hold him.
"Here’s
Jammy." Simon nudged Blair’s shoulder with the mock wolf.
"Fank
you." Blair nuzzled the toy. "Jamie gave him to me, he said that he
used to tell him stories. Cassie wouldn’t let me have any cuddly toys. She said
they’s make me soft."
"But
Jamie has a cuddly toy and he’s a big boy."
"Ooooh."
Blair looked up at him, opened mouthed. Simon could practically see thoughts
and connections converging in his canny little mind. "Cassie lied didn’t
she? She lied a lot."
"I
think so. I think she was…" Simon strove for a suitable description for a
clever but, regardless of his gifts, still small boy.
"Nasty,"
Blair supplied sagely.
"Yes,
nasty, good word."
"So
elves won’t come and eat me up if I become a… a… guide?"
Simon
dropped to his knees in front of the child. Blair backed up against the
windows. His thumb planted itself unerringly in his mouth.
"Blair,
what did she say to you?"
Jammy’s
head was squashed under his arm and his chin was tucked down to hide his eyes
under his droopy ringlets.
"Oh,
my poor little boy." Simon reached out, but stopped just short of touching
the prince’s bowed head. "What did Cassie say to you?"
"Nothing,"
Blair said around his thumb.
"If
you don’t tell me what she said I can’t tell you if she lied."
"All
big people lie, you do it all the time. Sometimes you do it on purpose. Other
times you just do it without even thinking. You say things that you don’t mean.
Why don’t you say what you mean? Mama lies, she said she’d never leave."
"I
know, Blair. Big people tell little lies, middling lies and big, nasty lies –
trying to figure out who’s lying and when you’re being lied to is one of the
most important things in the whole world. Jamie has never lied to you. He’ll
never lie to you. I think Cassie lied to you a lot, and you have to tell people
what she said or you will never know the truth."
"Jamie’s
not here to tell."
"I
know. Will I do? I promise." He held his hand over his heart. "I
promise to tell you the truth."
Blair
lifted his head. Sapphire blue eyes judged him. Storm winds ruffled his curls.
Whatever magics this child wielded they were serious indeed.
"She
said that when the night fell the goblins were going to come and kill everyone.
And the Goblin Queen would rule forever. And if I did become a guide ‘cos I was
meebe a guide, I would be the worst of them all. I’d be nasty and horrible and
I’d never see Mama again."
"Really?"
Simon managed.
"Yes,
guides eat slugs and snails and worms." Blair looked to the left then
right and leaned forward conspiratorially. "I ate a worm once and it just
tasted wiggly. I didn’t grow any horns."
Simon
managed not to grimace. "So you know that Cassie lied?"
"Oh.
Yes! Yes! I ate worms and I didn’t grow horns."
Simon’s
smile was purely unintentional. "She told you a lot of bad things about
guides didn’t she?"
Blair
nodded.
"Guides
help other people. They mostly help the Sentinels. They’re intelligent and
thoughtful and gentle. Guides are the nicest people in the world."
"Really?
Am a guide?"
"I
think so."
"But…"
Blair had a seriousness that belied his age. "I like being naughty."
A mischievous smile broke out on his face.
"Well,"
Simon echoed Blair’s smile despite his best efforts. "’Naughty’ and ‘Bad’
are two entirely different things."
"Really?"
"Yes,
but you should try to be good."
"Aw."
Despite
everything that had and was probably going to happen, Simon laughed. Prince
Mischief; Simon had heard Jamie’s nickname for the Royal Heir.
"Now,
I think that your mama was bespelled. That means that I think that some bad
people cast a spell on her. I need to find out who did this so I can make her
better. I have to read my books and look around the castle. So Rafe and Henri
are going to look after you."
"What
about Jamie?"
"Joel
took some of my guards to the base of the castle to look for him. He has my orb
– they will find him." Simon finally gave into the impulse and ruffled
Blair’s gossamer curls.
"But…"
"I
know that you want to help," Simon interrupted. "But it would be
better if you stayed here. I have had Rhonda, my mistress, bring you some toys
to play with."
"I
thinks you should take Rafe and Henri with you."
"Why?"
Simon was intrigued to know what the child thought.
"’Cos
it’s all starting to happen and you’ve sent away Joel who usually looks after
you."
"Ah,
but I am the Wizard Sultan of Hannahanna. I am not to be underestimated."
"What
does that mean?"
"It
means, my young friend, that I am a very clever person – just like you.
Come." Simon guided Blair away from the windows and back into his bedroom.
Rhonda had set out a mass of coloured bricks, pens and crayons, parchment and
books on a small table. "Rafe is very good at drawing, he can show you
how."
Blair
sat down by the table and grabbed a block, appearing very unimpressed. "I
want to help you."
"You
can help me by keeping safe. Jamie would have me hung, drawn and quartered if I
allowed you to come to harm."
"What’s
that mean?"
"It’s
not nice. It’s worse than brussel sprouts."
"Ewww."
"Yes,
worse than brussel sprouts."
A
delicate knock interrupted them. Henri entered the room. "You called, Lord
Sultan?"
"Yes,
I am leaving the young prince in your care. There is, as you said so succinctly
last night, danger afoot. We need to find out what is happening."
"But
Joel has gone to the plain below the escarpment, you are unguarded," Henri
protested, crossing his arms in consternation.
"Ah,
but as I told our young friend: I am the Wizard Sultan of Hannahanna,"
Simon said haughtily. "Sa’Leem Henri, I leave the young prince in your charge,
do you accept this duty?"
"Yes,
Sire." Henri bowed.
Simon
drew the hood of his satin robe over his dark hair. He turned to the door.
"Behave yourself, young friend."
Blair
ran across the carpet intent on reaching Simon’s side. Henri caught the back of
his tunic and brought him to a halt.
Blair
scuffed his feet on the floor angrily, but Henri kept a hold of the squirming
child.
"Uncle
Simon?"
An
uncommon emotion clenched its fist around the Sultan’s heart.
"Yes,
Blair?"
"You
have to be careful."
~*~
Jamie’s adventure continues
Jamie
staggered and fell against a tree with a rough bark. He slithered to the ground
and simply curled up at the base. He was exhausted. He was so very, very, very
tired. The wolf was indefatigable, loping through the thick undergrowth of the
forest. But Jamie only had two legs.
Tay
skidded to a halt and twisted to peer over his shoulder. Dutifully, he padded
back to the Sentinel’s side, plonked himself down on his haunches and stared.
"I
bet Blair would understand you. You’re a beautiful animal." Tentatively,
he reached out and patted Tay’s head. "I’m so very tired; but it’s only
been a day."
The
sun was setting and the green world around him was turning sable. The moon,
Cirribis, was ascending. He could only hope that his sentinel eyes would allow
him to continue, assuming that he could manage to get to his feet.
Tay
fixed his amber eyes on the Sentinel. What was the message that the guardian of
the forest was trying to convey? The wolf rolled his head to the side and then
pushed his nose against Jamie’s sporran.
"What?"
Jamie shifted backwards.
The
wolf followed determinably nudging the leather pouch.
"Back
off!"
Tay
huffed loudly.
"Okay.
Okay. Okay." Jim dumped the contents of his sporran on the grass.
There
was nothing special, a chunk of fudge that he was hoarding, a small knife,
handkerchief, a statue of Danu and the vial of Elvenberry sap.
"Ah!"
Jamie pounced on the vial. The herbalist said that it was both a stimulant and
a soporific. He held the finger length vial trying desperately to remember the
herbalist’s instructions. As a sentinel he knew that he had to be careful. His
grandfather had drummed that into him as a bairn.
"Burning
it makes people sleep and drinking it makes you go. It was one drop… one drop
for energy."
He
viewed the vial with trepidation. Somehow taking the Elvenberry seemed like a
difficult decision. Becky had told him to secure the vial but to this end – to
drug himself? To help him return to the castle to save the prince and Acharn?
The
revelation was painful in its intensity.
"I
should have thrown the vial in the brazier. The smoke would have knocked them
out."
Tay
snorted.
"I’m
an idiot!"
Swearing
under his breath, Jamie carefully dripped a single drop on his tongue. Still
grumbling he waited for the Elvenberry to work its magic.
The
rush was subtle, moving through his veins. His exhaustion drained away. Jamie
exulted, rose to his feet and continued running, trailing the wolf.
~*~
Blair goes on an adventure
Blair
lay in his new big bed. His arm was hurting, Henri had kissed it better, and it
had helped a little but it was still sore. The moon cast silvery light over the
castle ramparts. It was late and most of the castle would be asleep – it was
time to go see Robyn. He dropped to the floor and crawled quietly to the
bedroom door, it was slightly ajar.
Rafe
and Henri were sitting beside Simon’s flickering fire playing cards. Blair
ducked back into the bedroom. After his bath, Rafe had laid out his next day
clothes. Jamie had trained him well; more silly velvet, princey, lacy, ruffly
clothes. He grabbed the leather shoes and pulled them over his footie pyjamas.
He
absently patted Jammy on his head and then scurried over to the wooden wardrobe
in the alcove beside the bed. When he had been playing hide and seek with the
Assassin he had hidden in the wardrobe. In the back was a knot that opened a
secret door. The entire castle was riddled with the passages.
‘Leya
was busy with D’neirf business so he was on his own. Blair stuck his finger in
the knot. The door slipped back with a tiny little squeak. Blair bit his lip,
hoping that his babysitters would ignore the noise. He slipped through the dark
crack and waited until it closed behind him. As the door closed the mage lights
rose from the floor and glowed.
"We
have to go down to the orchard."
The
orchard was down, so he had to find a way down. That was easy, there were lots
of staircases and chutes. A mage light hovered at his shoulder. But they didn’t
help; just shone bright light as he wandered down the corridor.
It
didn’t take him very long to figure out that he was lost. Becky or ‘Leya
usually helped him in passages. The light bobbed beside a spiral staircase.
Going down was the right idea. It was a rickety stair. Blair resorted to
shuffling down on his bottom as it creaked ominously. Two steps disintegrated
behind him. Grandfather Blair should have magicked up some woodworking gnomes
to look after the stairs as well as the lights.
The
corridor at the bottom of the staircase was short, suddenly twisting away after
a few body lengths. A sharp laugh caught his attention. Blair scurried along a
wall hunting for a knothole. People were laughing. People normally didn’t laugh
in the castle. They were serious and miserable.
He
didn’t find a knothole, but he found a crack in the wood panelling. He squinted
and peered through the hole. It was a small room. There were only two people in
the room, a lady and a man. The man was wrapped in dark rags and the lady
hidden in a scaly green cowled cloak. The man scared him; he didn’t glow. There
was no sense of life, like the glow around Robyn’s Oak tree or Jamie. He was
like a gaping maw filled with foetid breath. Blair’s fingers crept into his
mouth as he watched. The man scared him; he was dead.
"So,
Bracket, have your spells found the Sentinel?"
"The
forest protects him," he grated.
"I
didn’t drag you back here to give me feeble excuses. Find the Sentinel or I’ll
send you back to your grave."
"Yes,
Mistress." Bracket bowed, but he wasn’t cowed.
"Do
not antagonise me, minion, else you will taste the magics of the Goblin
Queen." A pale white hand emerged from the enshrouding cloak. The fingers
were long and decked in talon length green nails.
Blair
clapped his hand over his mouth to stop a terrified squeak. The Goblin Queen
was coming for him, just like Cassie had said she would.
"Yes,
Mistress, and the prince?"
"I
will have him."
Blair
didn’t wait to hear anything else. He ran down the corridor away from the
Goblin Queen and the dead man. The light hurried to keep up. He had to find
Simon or Robyn or Henri or Mags or Rafe or Jamie.
"’Leya!"
He shrieked. "’Leya." The D’neirf would help him get out of the
passages. He ran into a wall and bounced back onto his bottom. Stunned, he
started to cry. He wanted his mama.
He
cried himself out, sobbing until his nose turned red and his eyes felt swollen
and heavy. Slowly, he found his feet and began to pick his way along the corridor
looking for knots in the wooden panelling or a hole in a stone block.
High
up on the wall, he saw another gnarly wood knot. Balancing on tiptoes, he
reached up and pushed his finger against the trigger point. Three panels
retracted into the stone wall, making a breach wide enough for a boy to sneak
through.
Blair
emerged behind an empty set of armour standing guard in the main foyer.
The
castle chatelaine was at the far end directing two maids who were wielding
dusters. The lady in charge of the castle was a bit of an ogre in all senses of
the word. Her great-grandmother had come from one of the Northern Clan of
barbarians. Her hair was as fiery as her temper. You didn’t argue with Mistress
Teal and you weren’t cheeky. The maids were directed to the oriel windows to
clean out the old wax from the melted candles.
Blair
looked to the barred doors leading to the inner ward. The portcullis was beyond
and the drawbridge. But the oak post was too heavy for him to lift. There was
no escape; the Goblin Queen was going to get him. Taking a deep breath, Blair
ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the marble staircase dominating the
foyer. The steps were high and deep. Blair struggled up the first flight and
ducked behind the newel post on the half landing.
"You
little brat!"
Blair
spun on his heels to see Rafe striding down the stairs taking them two at a
time. He jumped down onto the landing.
The
maids stopped working and stared up at them.
"Rafe!"
He flung himself at the dapperly dressed assassin. Rafe, instinctively, caught
and lifted him up until they faced each other eye to eye.
"If
you were anyone else I’d smack your bottom. I’m bloody well tempted to do
it."
"I
saw the Goblin Queen and a d… de…de… dead man!" Blair wailed.
"What?"
Below
them the maids gasped.
"It’s
nothing," Rafe said pompously to them. "Go back to work. Now."
"You
heard the Duke of Rafe, girls," Mistress Teal rapped sharply, "back
to work. Your Grace, may I help you? I think that his Highness should be in
bed."
"Yes,
little boys who sleepwalk should be in bed."
"I
didn’t…" Blair began to protest.
"Shush."
Blair
glowered, he didn’t like being told to shush. "I saw the Goblin Queen,
she’s real just like Cassie said. She’s gonna take over the Land. She’s got
long green nails and she’s evil. And she wants me!" he finished
stridently.
"Amazing
imagination," Rafe said tightly.
Mistress
Teal had joined them on the half landing. "Your Grace, his mother was the
same way as a child. Princess Naomi drove her father King Blair to distraction."
"Mama’s
good."
"Yes,
Your Highness, your mother was good when she was little."
"You’re
not listening. There’s bad people in the castle. There’s a Goblin Queen and a
dead man walking."
"Oh
dear, what a bad dream." Rafe ruffled his curls.
Blair
lunged at his fingers, incensed enough to try and bite them. "There’s bad
people in the castle. Uncle Simon! Uncle Simon!" he shrieked.
"Child,
you’ll wake the dead."
Blair’s
eyes widened horrified. "More?"
"Well,
no," Mistress Teal flustered. "It’s just a figure of speech, Your
Highness."
"But
he was dead." Blair said mutinously.
"Your
Grace, it’s past third watch, the prince should be in bed."
"Yes,
you’re right, Mistress. I shall put him to bed and ensure he stays there."
Rafe
hefted the prince over his shoulder and started up the next set of marble
stairs to the upper levels.
"Good
night, Your Grace."
"Good
night, Mistress Teal."
She
bowed and returned to the foyer.
Blair
punched Rafe between his shoulder blades. "You’re not listening to me.
Nobody listens to me. There was a dead man."
"I’m
listening, but you should be in bed."
"See
– you’re not listening." Blair squirmed around trying to face forwards,
forcing Rafe to stop climbing the stairs. With Rafe practically juggling him,
Blair managed to get a leg around the assassin’s neck. Holding onto the Rafe’s
ears, he hauled himself upright.
"Sit
still, Blair!"
Scrabbling
for purchase, Blair clamped his hands in Rafe’s hair.
Black
smoke billowed at the head of the stairs. Simon stepped out of the bank of
smoke. "Care to explain what you’re doing?"
"Uncle
Simon." Blair launched himself off Rafe trusting Simon to catch him.
"There’s a bad man and he’s dead and the Goblin Queen’s wif him."
"What?"
"Your
Majesty." Rafe ducked his head in an abbreviated bow as he smoothed down
his messed hair. "I don’t think this is the best place to discuss the
matter."
Simon
looked down the staircase to the foyer and the maids – who knew who else was
listening?
"Indeed."
~*~
Henri
rubbed Blair’s face with a damp cloth washing away his dried tears. Blair
protested weakly as the adjutant wrestled him out of his purple pyjamas and
into an over large tunic in lieu of a clean set of nightwear.
"There’s
a dead man. A dead, dead man. He was evil." Blair’s voice dropped.
"The Goblin Queen said she brought him back."
"Precious,
nobody can raise the dead. The spells were lost a long time ago when the first
King of Acharn defeated the Mage Brack."
Simon
leaned against the mantelpiece, gnawing his thumbnail as he thought. "The
Veb in the prince’s bed was one of the lost spells of Brack."
"You
believe me?" Blair jumped down from the four poster bed, his bare feet
slapping against the wooden floor.
Simon
looked down at him. "This dead man, what did he look like?"
"He
was rotten and in rags and he didn’t have any...." Blair’s face scrunched
up. "There’s no big words for it. He didn’t have…" Blair waved his
pudgy hand over Simon’s stomach.
Rafe
sauntered into the suite, interrupting them. "I didn’t find anything and
I’ve been over the castle, quite thoroughly, I might add."
"Rafe’s
silver and swirly." Blair crossed to the Assassin’s side. "It sticks
out about here." He held his hand a finger length from Rafe’s hip.
"Yours is--" Blair squinted at the Wizard Sultan. "--yellow but
grey across your eyebrows."
Simon’s
eyes widened. "What colour am I now?" He inhaled deeply and bowed his
head.
"Ooooh,
you’re like a rainbow. That’s pretty. How did you do that? Can you show me
how?" Blair ran back to Simon’s side and poked his finger in the red
thundercloud cascading down his silken robe. He tried to catch a handful and
came away with silver threads that whispered away into nothing.
"Whoa."
Henri sat upright on the bed. "He can see auras."
"Is
that what they’re called?" Blair opened his hand. "They’re
pretty."
"It’s
important, Blair; this man didn’t have an aura?" Simon crouched at his
side, intently listening to his every word.
"Nope,
not even black."
"When
you say Lord Trevellyan ‘smells real bad’ do you mean to your nose or in your
head?"
"In
my head. He makes my stomach churn."
"Who
else?"
"Chancellor
Lash and Lord Lash, but they’re different – maggot and wormy. But they change.
They’re…." Blair gave up because there were no words. "Lash sucks out
other people’s… auras. He took Clarissa’s, he wanted mine but it was too
big."
"Clarissa?"
Simon asked. "Big?"
"Kitchen
maid, she died last year. She threw herself off the castle escarpment,"
Rafe volunteered from the doorway.
"She
didn’t have anything left, she was empty."
"How
do you know that, Precious?" Henri joined Simon, crouching and listening.
It was a strange feeling, Blair was not too sure if he liked being the centre
of attention.
"Cassie
and me were on the ramparts. We watched."
Simon
scowled, a deep line formed between his eyebrows. His dark eyes flashed liquid
fire.
"Cassie
took me on the ramparts a lot, especially when it was dark. Davy Lash was
there, he held her and sucked away her brightness and then she walked away. I
never saw her again. Clarissa was nice, she gave me a lollipop once."
"Protopath?"
Henri ventured.
"What’s
a protopath?" Blair asked.
"It’s
someone who can eat souls," Simon said very seriously. "Lord Lash
tried to take your brightness?"
"Yes,
he wrapped me in a bag and took me to the dungeons. I was only little then. He
put his hand on my head. But there was a dazzlin’ flash of light and he burnt
his hand and the guards came and took me back to the nursery and Nanny
Pill."
Simon
turned away abruptly. Blair watched wide eyed as he punched the window pane,
smashing it into a thousand fragments.
Blair
squeaked and Henri rushed to reassure him. "He’s not angry at you. He’s
angry at Lord Lash."
"Is
he going to tell him off?"
"Yes."
Simon carefully extracted his fist from the window frame. He gestured with his
undamaged hand at the broken glass. The fragments leaped back into the frame
running together as if water. A final sliver melded with the flowing glass.
Grimacing, the Wizard Sultan wrapped a handkerchief around his cut hand.
"Yes, I will be speaking to Lord Lash and Chancellor Lash and Lord
Trevellyan."
"Do
you think that they are behind the enchantment of the Queen?" Rafe asked
seriously.
"It’s
likely. But perhaps it is not magic. Perhaps the Lashes are stealing her soul,
piece by piece?" Simon mused.
"What
about The Goblin Queen and Bracket?"
They
all froze. Slowly, with the grinding long-drawn-out slowness of a mountain
glacier, they turned as one to face Blair. Rafe swallowed once. He darted a
glance at the other two men.
"Bracket?"
he ventured.
Blair
nodded, his ringlets falling in his eyes. "She called him Bracket."
"We’re
in a lot of trouble, aren’t we?" Rafe said with false lightness.
"The
Lashes, Trevellyan and the Goblin Queen plus Mage Brack back from the
dead," Simon intoned.
"Yes,
I think we are in a lot of trouble." Rafe had turned as white as a sheet.
"Someone has found Mage Brack’s grimoires."
"Bet
the Goblin Queen has them," Blair said helpfully.
Simon
pinched the bridge of his nose. "But who is the Goblin Queen?"
End Chapter III.
~*~
Chapter IV.
~*~
Gather closer and huddle together or else the demons that stalk around
the campfire will get you. The Goblin Queen has entered the fray. But who is
the Goblin Queen?
~*~
Simon
regarded the other members of the royal court as they broke their fast. They
were an unappealing group. Reborn with the wisdom of a child, Simon could see
the true evil in their souls. The Chancellor and his spawn watched the denizens
around the table, cataloguing their peers. Knowing that they were the
antitheses of empaths, Simon could now read in their actions their true
natures. Lord Lash had focussed his attention on Lord Malú’s daughter. Invoking
a spell with the slight twist of his fingers, Simon bestowed protection on the
young woman.
"Good
Morning, Your Highness. You’re looking very smart today." The Zeller stood
behind Prince Blair, his cold expression for once disturbingly avuncular.
Blair
scowled up at the minister.
"Rafe’s
more worse than Jamie." Blair fingered the lace ruff around his cuff.
"It’s
a very smart jacket." The Zeller rested a heavy hand on the shoulder of
Blair’s embroidered doublet.
"Go
away, you’re a nasty man."
The
Zeller chortled. "That’s not a very nice thing to say."
"I
agree," Simon said from his seat across the wide table. "I think you
should apologise."
Blair
glowered at the Wizard Sultan.
He
shuffled on his chair leaving his nut porridge. "No," the boy said
sullenly.
"Blair,
apologise to the Prime Minister," Simon commanded.
"No.
Am the prince; I don’t have too." With an almighty push, Blair thrust his
cold porridge across the table into Simon’s lap. As Simon squawked, Blair
wriggled off his cushioned chair and then pushed The Zeller aside. The Prime
Minister made a half-hearted attempt to grab his shoulder.
"’Leya!"
the prince called.
The
D’neirf kit appeared in mid-air, dropping to the floor beside the prince. Blair
ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
Simon’s
last glimpse was of Prince Mischief darting through the double doors and away
from his protection.
~*~
The
D’neirf led him immediately to a passageway. Without hesitation, Blair triggered
the secret door beneath a heavy marble table. The corridor beyond the hallway
was as cobwebby as the other passages but the lights were waiting for him.
‘Leya took him straight through another secret passage within the passage and
down a spiral staircase. The kit knew what he was planning. Unerringly, he was
shown a new route to the orchard. He emerged on the opposite side of the little
wood. Pausing momentarily, he cast the cobwebs from his chestnut curls.
"Robyn?
Robyn?" Pumping his little legs, he ran as fast as he could across the
grass towards the big oak tree. The dryad was waiting for him, her eyes filled
with knowledge. She drew him to her breast and together they climbed into the
middle branches.
Robyn
set him in a fork in the trunk on moss covered branches. The D’neirf occupied
herself stalking through the higher branches teasing the squigels.
"Where
is your protector?"
"He’s
lost. Becky told him to go to the dungeons and he never came back. I saw him in
Simon’s crystal ball in lots of trees."
Robyn
looked inwards, her dark eyes turning introspective. "He is within Quercus
robur. The Great Forest protects him. He is on his way here. He is safe."
"Yes!"
Blair bounced on his seat. A branch immediately dropped down and wrapped around
his waist. Blair patted it absently. "I won’t fall, honest."
"Better
see that you don’t, Prince Mischief."
"That’s
what Jamie calls me."
"Tis
a name that suits you."
"Perhaps."
Blair smiled showing his teeth. He saw an image of a man in Robyn’s opalescent
eyes. He had high cheekbones, full lips and wild storm-tossed curls. Blair
recognised the man as himself. But most importantly he wore a great kilt made
of Laird Jamie’s distinctive plaid.
"You’re
a deep little boy, aren’t you." It was not a question. "An old soul
rises within you. Helps you…."
Blair
shrugged, disinterested in Robyn’s speculation, he wanted to find out more
about his mama.
"I
gots a question," Blair announced.
Robyn
leaned forwards listening carefully.
"Mama’s
poorly sick. The Duchess Michelle and Uncle Simon think that she’s got a magic
spell on her."
"I
have felt the stench of unease within the castle."
Blair
nodded. "Maybe it’s not magic, though?"
"Ah,
you think that your Mama might be ill?"
"Or
a potion."
"Or
all?"
"I
dunno, but Cindy Lou would have spotted if Mama was poorly and Duchess Michelle
couldn’t figure out what spell made Mama sleep, so that leaves herbs."
"I
can’t leave Miles." She patted the rough bark of her oak tree. "Mags
and Matilde will be able to help you."
"Yes!"
Blair exulted, already wriggling free of the branch around his waist.
Robyn
wrapped her long fingers around his arms. "I’ll help you down."
"Aw,
I’m a big boy."
"A
big boy with a broken arm." She tapped the splint.
Rolling
his eyes heavenward, Blair accepted her help down the tree. As his toes hit the
ground he set off running towards another secret passage.
"Be
careful!" Robyn called out.
~*~
Jamie
loped with the ease of a wolf, moving through the undergrowth as if he was born
to it. A family of badgers poked their heads out from their den as he passed.
Grinning, he jumped over their heads, acknowledging their welcome calls. Tay’s
furry tail disappeared beneath a fallen tree trunk. Jamie hurdled over the
fungi covered trunk. The trail that they now ran along was a wolf track, shared
by none other than the wolves and their friends. Jamie ducked under a low
hanging branch and then vaulted over another fallen trunk. Green light filtered
through the canopy above. The world around him sang with health and vitality.
Jamie felt reborn; if he had not had to return to the castle swiftly he would
have happily stayed with the forest.
Tay
came to an abrupt halt, his claws scrabbling on the grassy floor. Jim slid over
the wet grass to stop at his side.
"What
is it?" he whispered.
The
wolf pointed with its muzzle to the path beyond. Sensing the unspoken command,
the Sentinel released the reins on his sense of hearing. Footsteps moved on the
trail ahead of them. Heavy footsteps so that meant they were people who did not
know how to walk through the forest with care and precision. Instinctively, he
allowed his sight to lock on.
He
almost laughed out loud. Poor Joel was picking his wet way through the
undergrowth. He did not look like a happy soul. His black camouflage had long
since been rinsed away by the night time rain and the morning mist. He wore
damp, clammy, form fitting robes. The Wizard Sultan’s guards looked equally
unhappy.
"It
is Joel Nabweh, the Wizard Sultan’s bodyguard."
Tay
shrugged inscrutably.
"I
can join the secret man or continue onto the castle with you?" Jamie
questioned.
The
wolf bounded off their trail and into the low lying scrub. Hurrying to keep up,
Jamie ducked around a sprawling rhododendron bush. The wolf’s bushy tail
disappeared between two rocks guarding a gully. Jumping from rock to rock,
Jamie moved soundlessly to intercept the small party.
Regardless
of his care, Joel heard his approach. The Wizard Sultan’s warrior held his
scimitar primed to attack or defend.
The
wolf was tucked beside a rock, hiding under a small overhang watching the group
of soldiers. Jamie emerged from the bushes further up the trail. He kept his
hands out in the open.
"Greetings,
warrior."
Joel
inclined his head. "We have been looking for you, milord."
"You
have found me," Jamie said perfunctorily. "Is the prince safe?"
"The
prince is in the care of my master, the Wizard Sultan."
"How
did that come about?" Jamie finally picked his way down the deer track. He
nodded to Joel’s soldiers, acknowledging their wary professionalism.
"His
Grace the Duke of Rafe and H decided that they needed help, wisely."
An
involuntary smile flittered across Jamie’s chiselled features. "They were
indeed wise to trust your master." He drew Joel away from his listening
soldiers with a gesture.
"The
Zeller, Lord Trevellyan, the Lashes and a Mage – who I suspect is resurrected
from the dead – are part of an evil cadre plotting to wrest the Land from the
Queen’s grasp," Jamie said without preamble. "I saw them in the
dungeons scheming. There was another with them. I think she was a woman. If,
for whatever reasons, I fail to get back to the castle, you have to get this
information to the Queen and whoever in the council has not been
corrupted." He drew his Sgian Dubh from his sock. "This is the sign
of my Clan. If you hold it you speak with the Sentinel’s honour. I lay a geas
upon you, Joel Nabweh, to speak the truth to the Queen, do you accept this
weight?"
Joel
paused, allowing the Sentinel to see that he understood the gravity of the
situation and the promise that taking the ‘dagger black’ would entail. That to
speak falsely would prompt dire action went unspoken.
"I
will."
Jamie
ducked his head in a taut bow.
Joel
accepted the Sgian Dubh with an equally curtailed bow.
"How
far are we from the castle?"
"We
have travelled a day and a night, marching at some four times the pace of an
untrained man."
"Your
men and women are tired." Indeed, the soldiers from the Secret Lands had
taken the opportunity to sprawl on either side of the trail. Two watched for
their comrades.
"Why
are you not?"
"I
took Elvenberry sap. It gives great vigour if taken wisely. Abuse it and you
die," Jamie said ghoulishly. He pulled the tiny vial from his sporran and
held it before the warrior. "I can’t take anymore until near sundown. I
have sufficient stamina to continue running until then. Are you coming with me
or following later?"
Joel’s
dark gaze encompassed both man and vial, judging them equally. He plucked the vial
from Jamie’s outstretched fingers.
"What
is the dosage?"
"Do
you have heightened senses?" Jamie responded.
"My
sense of taste is uncommonly acute, but that may be from practice." He
patted his firm stomach.
"Ah."
Jamie pursed his lips as he concentrated. "Just take one drop," he
said wisely.
Incongruously,
Joel stuck his tongue out and allowed a single drop to fall. He shivered along
the length of his body as the potion worked its magic.
"What
a charge."
"Intoxicating,
isn’t it. I think, though, we’re going to feel like the inside of a sewer when
it wears off."
Joel
grimaced. "That is an image that I’d prefer you hadn’t shared."
"Tell
your men to follow at their own speed," Jamie ordered. "We will go
ahead. A companion will join us as soon as we are out of sight of your men. He
is a wolf."
Without
further ado he began to lope down the trail. Even though he wasn’t looking, he
knew that the Wizard Sultan’s bodyguard was scowling at him, but the man was
obeying his orders.
It
had taken Joel a night and a day to reach him. Mentally calculating, Jamie
estimated that they would reach the base of the castle escarpment as the sun
set. He picked up his pace; time was of the essence.
Tay
jumped onto the trail ahead of him. The wolf paused long enough to howl and
then joined him.
~*~
Blair
snuck between two guards’ legs and darted down the flight of stairs leading to
the kitchens. He wiggled around the baker who nearly dropped his tray of
freshly baked bread.
"Mags!"
He flung himself into the old woman’s arms. Despite her blindness she caught
him.
"What
is it, sweetie?"
Blair
stood on her lap, so he could look her in the eye.
"Mama’s
poorly sick. She sleeps all the time. Cindy Lou cannae figure out what the
matter is and neither can Uncle Simon. I figures that she might be poisoned and
the Lashes might have been really nasty to her. Can you help mama?"
Surprised,
Mags blinked, her milky pupils momentarily hidden by veined lids.
"Matilde!"
The
young woman immediately left the cauldron of broth she was preparing for the
midday meal. Her forehead creased in concern, she darted a glance at the staff
who were listening curiously.
"Back
to work," she directed, with a click of her fingers.
Chastised,
the cooks and pastry-bakers returned to their chores.
"Yes,
grandmother?"
"Blair…
The prince says that the Queen is ill. No one knows what is the matter."
"Your
Highness, the physician is well versed in the herbalists’ arts."
"Mebbe,
but Robyn said that she might have lots of things wrong. A bit what Simon said
and a bit what Cindy Lou said. A bit of herbs, a bit of spells and a bit of
soul sucking. You have to all work together."
Deep
in thought, Matilde chewed on her bottom lip. Then with great deliberation she
brushed away the flour sprinkled on her apron and straightened her long skirts.
"Your
Highness, we will go see your mother."
"Yes."
He squirmed off Mags’ lap, and in the same movement caught her hand to tug her
after him. "Careful, Mags, Popo’s left his butter churn by the rolling
table." The prince directed the old woman around the wooden churn.
The
younger herbalist left their side to dart into the cold room. She re-emerged
with a large square box.
"What’s
that? Tell me what that is, Matty?"
"It’s
my medicine chest."
"Is
that going to help Mama?"
"I
hope so."
~*~
Blair
kept very quiet as Mags and Matilde consulted with Cindy Lou. Their heads were
close as they spoke of matters he didn’t quite understand. He thought that they
liked the dryad’s idea. The Wizard Sultan was drawing a chalk circle around
mama’s bed. Each word seemed to take forever and he had to keep checking his
book.
Blair
didn’t recognise the writing since it was more squiggly than real writing.
"What
are you doing?"
"I’m
drawing a protective circle to try to keep her safe. When your mama first
became ill, we cast a mage shield on her. But we’re trying something new that
is more powerful."
"Was
Robyn right?"
"We
don’t know, Blair. But Cynthia thinks she might be getting a bad cold. That
might be because of the spell making her sleep all the time. But your mama
isn’t eating anymore, so we don’t know how any herbs might be
administered."
"What
does ‘adminstered’ mean?"
"Administered
means how the bad medicine was given to her." Simon pointed to Mags who
was sniffing mama’s perfumes and creams on her bedside table.
"Here,
Simon." The Duchess Michelle knelt in a swirl of blue velvet skirts. She
angled a leather bound tome to allow the Sultan to see the pages. "The
Tpol Text says that the word for protection ‘pre’tekt’ should be spelt
‘pretekf.’"
Blair
could see that everyone was so very busy. He stepped carefully over Simon’s
intricate drawing. Cindy was now sitting at the head of mama’s bed, muttering
an incantation. Blair reached up and clasped his mother’s cold hand.
"Everyone’s
trying to help you, mama. You have to get well."
Not
even her fingers twitched. He wanted her to get up and hug him, to tuck him in
bed and tell him stories. He wanted his mama back.
"Here!"
Matilde exulted. She held up the vial of sage oil used to perfume the Queen’s
toilet water. "This contains an emulsion of Fhemlock."
"What
does Fhemlock do?" Simon asked.
"It
slows the beat of the heart and depresses the breathing, while sage is a tonic
to the stomach, kidneys and liver. One is not normally used with the other. It
shouldn’t be here."
"The
Queen is developing pneumonia; Fhemlock is contraindicated. In fact it is
dangerous." Cindy paused in her spell casting. "The progression of
the Queen’s illness is strange, it moves too fast."
"Here,"
Mags spoke. The ancient herbalist held out a bristly hairbrush. "The oil
coating on this brush is supposed to make your hair shiny, but it contains
Joram."
"Joram?"
Simon rocked back on his heels. "Joram is a mineral used in the genus of
portal spells. The mirror-like shards of the marble reflects images of the
other planes. It makes no sense to add it to hair oil."
"Synergy,"
Duchess Michelle announced.
"Eh?
What?" Mags asked from the dresser. "You speak of the subtle
magics?"
"Yes,
where one thing on its own is safe but mixed with another substance or
substances it can have a deleterious effect. The dosage is also
important."
"When
youngsters hears sick voices in their heads, if they eat mackerel oil twice
daily they get better, but if they eat less there is no improvement,"
Matilde supplied.
"This
is uncommonly wicked," Mags growled.
"Who
could devise such a plan?"
"I
think we should move the Queen to another room," the Duchess said
suddenly. "Everything she owns should be burnt and replaced. Spell components
are inexplicably melded with supposedly safe herbs, her creams and lotions are
tainted…"
"Is
it safe to move her?" Simon directed his question to the physician.
"She
hangs to life by a thread, but if there are many factors operating here making
her ill, in the long run it would be best to move her."
"Did
you hear that, mama?" Blair whispered, still at his post holding on to her
hand." We’re going to take you away from all the things that make you
poorly."
"Where
should we move her to?" Matilde asked.
"Jamie’s
eyrie. It’s really clean and there’s lots of rainwater," Blair piped up.
"He couldn’t have anything nasty or he’d be ill too."
"The
child’s a genius." Cindy bestowed a kiss on his cheek. "You’re a
clever little boy."
"Am
bright; Robyn says so." For once Blair basked in the attention.
"It’s
defensible as well," Simon mused. Suiting actions to words, he scooped up
the Queen in his arms as easily as lifting a child. "We tell no one. You,
My Lady Duchess, use your protective magics to guard the Queen. Physician, heal
her sicknesses. Mags, Matilde, purge her body of these toxins. And I will find
out who did this."
~*~
Hope comes to the Land of Acharn. The Queen’s people work together. The
Sentinel approaches the castle at all speed assisted by the protector of the
Great Forest, Quercus robur. But a Sword of Damocles still hangs…
~*~
Blair
sat on the bottom stair drumming his heels against the riser. The ladies had
taken his mama upstairs to Jamie’s safe place. He was keeping guard; he wasn’t
going to let anyone go the eyrie and hurt his mama.
"Hello,
Blair."
Blair
looked up from contemplating his toes. "Hiya, Seah."
The
librarian’s brow furrowed. "I’ve missed you, you haven’t been in the
library for a few days."
"I
hurt my arm." Blair wriggled it out of his sling. "Cindy Lou made it
mostly better. And there’s been lots of horrible things happening."
"Like
what?" Seah joined him on the stair, pulling her knees up against her
chest.
"Oh,
nasty things. There’s some bad people in the castle. But am not allowed to tell
you anymore." Blair leaned against her trustingly. "You’ve got lots
of books in the library. Have you ever read anything about the Goblin
Queen?"
The
world around him suddenly flared with a greenish tinge. In response, a frisson of
black terror ran up all the knobs along Blair’s spine. He looked to the left
and the right, but couldn’t find the source of the nasty glow. Then with a
blink it disappeared. Blair huffed silently; he had not liked that greasy light
in the slightest.
"Oh,
yes, I know everything about the Goblin Queen," Seah said softly,
distracting him from his search.
"Really?"
Surprised, Blair shifted away from the librarian. "Why?"
Seah
rose to her feet. She towered over him. Blair shuffled along the step. Green
light frittered across his vision, scaly and malevolent. Inch by inch he moved
until he banged against the wall. A pool of lurid olive light curdled at the
librarian’s feet. Tendrils reached out touching the world around her.
It
wasn’t healthy.
Seah’s
smile was macabre. Terrified, Blair watched the nasty tendrils creep back into
the librarian until she shone just like Rafe – happy and smiley.
It
was all a lie.
"Uncle
Simon!" He shrieked. She swooped down on him, enveloping him in her green
lined cape.
~*~
Jamie
came to an abrupt halt. His world had suddenly shifted. Nausea stomped through
his stomach with hobnailed boots. He staggered off the track, to lean against a
tree trunk.
"Lord
Jamie." Joel caught his elbow. "Are you reacting to the Elvenberry sap?"
"No."
Jamie drew in a harsh sounding breath. "It’s the prince."
"What
has happened?"
Jim
focused outwards, trying vainly to find his charge. "Something has
happened to Prince Blair. We must hurry!"
Fear
gave him a sudden burst of energy. The low branches on the trees seemed to move
out of his way. He was convinced that one shifted its roots off the trail. Tay
kept up, his muscles straining. Harsh puffing indicated that the bodyguard was
falling behind. Jamie did not wait; the prince was in great danger. Water
splashed beneath his feet as he ploughed through a shallow stream.
::Sentinel!::
Jamie
fell backwards as the water elemental surged upwards. The cold mountain fed
water shocked him to the core. For a moment he couldn’t hear the elf speaking.
Her mouth opened in a soundless scream.
"The
Goblin Queen has the prince; all is lost. She will gain control over the Land
through the heir to the Land. Danu herself will not be able to gainsay
the evil one’s demands…"
"What
can I do? The Goblin Queen? Who is the Goblin Queen? How can I stop her?"
"She
walks in legend as the Dark Mage’s progenitor. She taught Brack – cursed be his
name – all that he knows. The Land has been uneasy of late but now it screams
that the Goblin Queen shall gain ascendancy."
Jamie
stumbled to his feet, half falling in the water before standing upright.
"How can I stop her?"
Killash
of the Keren folded her hands against her breast, disquiet emanating from her
in tiny waves. "I do not know," she uttered, eventually.
"Nothing?"
the Sentinel demanded.
Behind
him, he heard Joel reach the edge of the water and come to an abrupt halt.
"Ye Al-Lat!"
"Stay
back," Jamie ordered, holding his arm out behind him.
"Goblins
are creatures of the earth," Killash began. "But unlike the dwarves
they see only evil and want conquest over what they perceive to be weak."
"How
does that help me? Don’t give me any of that elfin fey inscrutability – just
tell me how to kill her."
Killash
glared at him, her eyes turning the flinty blue of an arctic glacier. "I
speak in your tongue, not all the words exist to pass my meaning to you. The
goblins are creatures of the earth and that may help you as I -- a water
elemental -- help you." With those words, affronted, Killash merged with
the rippling river water and was washed away.
"Look!"
Jamie gritted his teeth. "I’m sorry I offended you."
"The
elven beings are notable for being capricious," Joel offered.
"Thank
you," Jamie snapped caustically, "you’re not helping."
Standing
knee deep in freezing cold water, his kilt soaked beyond all recovery, some
bitch of a goblin had stolen his prince -- Jamie was one seriously enraged
Sentinel.
~*~
Simon discovers the passageways
Simon
picked his way carefully down the spiral staircase from Ellison’s turret. The
risers and treads were set at different heights and depths to catch the unwary.
It would take a cat-footed man to run up or down without taking a fall. Simon
turned the last section and was greeted by an empty stair.
"Blair?"
He
had left the prince sitting on the bottom stair with two guards stationed at
either end of the short corridor guarding him. At each end of the corridor sat
a small pile of ash. Of the prince there was no sign.
Unconsciously,
Simon growled, even the village wassack could guess that the prince had been
taken. If the child had ran off, the guards would have alerted him. He had left
the prince on the stair as he knew that the women would have needed to strip
and clean the Queen. He hadn’t wanted her son to see her naked.
‘I
should have kept the child in my sight.’
The
first order of business was to find Blair. His fingers twisted, influencing the
unseen air elementals that danced around him. They had seen nothing, in fact
they had run away in fear from something that they refused to look at. A
soundless shriek echoed in his ears as the fickle beings screamed away on cold
winds.
Simon
tried to speak with the earth elementals beneath his feet. An ancient being in
the stone rolled, shifting him as if tossed in an earthquake. It didn’t speak,
but turned away, diamond tears seeping from bereft eyes.
He
smashed the side of his fist against the wall in anger. His magics allowed him
to manipulate, but he had no talent to control – it was a geas set upon him at
puberty to remind him that he served his people rather than subjugated them.
The
elementals were uneasy – he did not want to call on a fire elemental if they
too were in such a state. The prince had an affinity with air. They were upset
but perhaps they would lead him to the prince? A sudden hiss heralded the
displacement of air of a portal. ‘Leya, Blair’s D’neirf, popped into view and
dropped easily to the ground.
"Cat,
where is the prince?" Simon demanded.
The
kit sniffed elegantly and then paced to the far wall skirting around a pile of
ash. She planted herself down beside the stones and wrapped her tail around her
paws.
"What
is it?" Simon crouched by the kit as she pointed her nose towards the
candle alcove.
Simon
scanned the stones but he couldn’t see anything unusual; no convenient streaks
of blood or tufts of curly hair caught between stones.
The
kit hissed and then leaped up into the alcove and practically put her nose
against a stone beside the wrought iron candleholder. The Wizard Sultan
scrutinised the alcove more closely but he still couldn’t see anything
extraordinary. Sighing dramatically, ‘Leya planted her paw with great
deliberation on a stone. Cocking her head to the side, she looked to her paw
and then the Sultan.
Simon
squinted, there was something there. He couldn’t make it out, but he could feel
the mystical energies. A distinct signature tickled his senses. He could feel
the prince. No, that wasn’t quite right, he could feel the House of
Sandburg-Bran. There was something spelled here that only the blood of the
First King Blair could see. Simon doubted that even a sentinel would be able to
find it and only a blood royal would be able to trigger, what he assumed, was a
secret doorway.
His
family had ruled Hannahanna for as long as the family of King Blair had ruled
Acharn, perhaps it would recognise his sovereignty? He waved his hand over the
faintly emanating mystic nexus. He wasn’t that surprised when nothing happened.
"Blair
triggered a secret passage?" Simon asked.
The
D’neirf meowed an affirmative and then, amazingly, looked expectant.
"Blair
and someone else went through the passage?"
‘Leya
purred in satisfaction. She bowed deeply to the Wizard, as much as a D’neirf
would bow, then she vanished – simply whispering away.
"Cat,
your prince needs you," Simon berated.
‘Leya’s
whiskers and supercilious grin appeared, smiling inscrutably, before again
vanishing.
Simon
kicked the wall; he hated dealing with – what he belatedly recognised – was a
higher elemental being. The damn D’neirf probably was an avatar of Danu unable
to affect things directly. Actually directing him to the secret passage
probably contravened its Goddess’ wishes. The D’neirf seem unrepentant. Given
the seriousness of the situation he was on the kit’s side. The Land’s Higher
Elementals were involving themselves in people’s affairs and the Base Elements
– Air and Earth – and, no doubt, Water with Fire, were distressed.
The
prince had been taken. The heir to the Land was in bodily danger.
"Ai
Al-Lat," he swore and then struck the wall with the force of his being.
The stones exploded out of the wall, showering along the corridor. He stood in
the middle of the windstorm unscathed. As the stones and ashes settled a dark
gaping hole was revealed.
Simon
clicked his fingers and a mage light appeared, hovering above his outstretched
palm. Its light spilled into the passage revealing a set of long narrow
footprints accompanied by tiny ones in ancient dust.
Time
was of the essence but venturing into the passage without preparation was
insanity.
::Henri come to me and bring your little friend::
::Sire? You mean Rafe?::
::Yes. I am at the north tower at the base of Ellison’s turret. Bring
weapons and your spell supplies::
::Oooh, what’s happened?::
::The prince has been taken::
::What?::
::Indeed and the Land’s elemental guardians are petrified::
Unable
to stand around doing nothing, he set wards around the base of the turret
preventing all from entering where he had secured the Queen. He had set the
final touch to the spell when Henri and Rafe barrelled around the corner. The
assassin was decked from head to foot in sable leathers. A crossbow poked out
from behind his back. There were leather scabbards strapped to his arms and
legs. He held a needle like rapier in his right hand and a stiletto in his
left.
Henri
had dispensed with his long silken zupan and its layered caftans. He wore
peasant garb, a short jerkin resting just above his knees and a mantle of
Acharn design. His satchel of spell components was slung over his shoulder.
"We
are ready, Sire."
"I
see that." He gestured at the rent in the wall. "A woman – I presume
from the footsteps – has taken the prince into the castle’s secret passages.
Her presence is masked from my spell casting; she is a powerful mage."
"Bollocks!"
Rafe swore. "I wish Jamie was here. I wish his father and grandfather were
here too."
Henri
poked his head in the hole. "Can we take Duchess Michelle? She’s an
accomplished sorcerer."
"She
is protecting the Queen."
Rafe
took point and Henri protected their rear. The Wizard Sultan’s mage lights sent
spiders and crawlies scuttling into the wainscoting as they ventured forwards.
Henri
sighed quietly. "I, too, wish that Jamie were here."
"The
fact that neither his father or grandfather are here is worrying," Simon
muttered.
"I
sent a trusted aide to alert the Sentinel of Acharn, Jamie’s grandfather, that
we had problems."
"That
you had to do that, Lord Rafe, is a concern all to itself," Simon said
sagely. "Ellis d’Ellison should have been here a week ago yesterday. In
fact he should have been here when Henri and I arrived. That he wasn’t here
meant that I underestimated the situation, I decided that it wasn’t
serious."
"Maybe
he is here and keeping a low profile?" Rafe offered.
"He
would have come to the Queen," Simon disagreed, "and then I would
have seen him."
"Ellis
is Jamie’s grandfather?" Henri asked for clarification. "And the
Queen’s Sentinel? Jamie belongs to Blair? Who is Jamie’s father’s guide? The
Queen for both senior Sentinels?"
"King
Blair, Naomi’s father, was bound to Ellis. When the King died, William was away
on the Steppes speaking with the Shamans. Ellis was going to commit suicide and
to prevent Ellis following his Guide into death the Queen chose to become his
guide. William has never had a guide. He’s depended on disciplines he learnt on
the Steppes."
"Without
a guide William could become a twisted…" Rafe said slowly, hating his
blasphemous words, "sentinel."
The
trio stopped to look at each other, words went unspoken, until Henri ventured,
"Ellis believes that Jamie’s looking after the Queen?"
"Jamie
is too young. He shouldn’t be wielding the gifts." Simon grimaced.
"Ellis is either dead or he sent William to look after the Queen."
Rafe
continued tiptoeing down the corridor. "William’s not here and Jamie
developed his acute senses early."
"A
response to the threat to Acharn."
"I
keep expecting to hear scary organ music," Rafe grumbled as he turned a
corner.
~*~
Jamie returns to the castle
Jamie
risked another drop of the Elvenberry before sunset. Running like the northern
wind, he left the Wizard Sultan’s bodyguard far behind him. He emerged from the
Great Forest onto the plain beneath the castle escarpment. On top of the
escarpment the Royal Castle stood sentinel over the Land. Squinting, he
focussed on his own turret. He could almost hear voices. He thought he
recognised the Duchess Michelle’s distinctive southern accent. The drawbridges
on the east and south walls were down, resting on the entry ports carved at the
top of narrow spires. The spires had been hewn in the last ice age from the
mountain face. If the drawbridges to the castle proper were down, the militia
were not on alert.
The
sun touched the horizon and, galvanised, Jamie began to run up the steps of the
spiral staircase gouged inside the pinnacle of rock. It spiralled upwards to
reach the drawbridge above. The wolf snaked up the narrow steps behind him.
The
prince was in danger.
Blair
was in danger.
His
Guide was in danger.
The
litany rang in his head spurring him onwards. He was going to rip the Goblin
Queen’s soul from her body and cast it into the abyss. He was oblivious to the
demands of his body, concerned only with saving the prince. He was focussed,
blind only to that goal.
He
paused on the final landing waiting for the guards in the protective stone
barbican above to acknowledge his presence.
"Who
goes there?"
"Lord
James William d’Ellison of the House of Ellison, Heir to the Northern
Mountains," Jamie rapped out.
Tay
barked a question.
"Stay
here and guard my back. Howl if evil tries to enter the citadel. I will hear
you no matter where I am in the castle."
The
wolf barked an affirmative.
The
laird clambered up the last steps and out of the hollowed out staircase into
the barbican. The guards raised their pikes to chest level.
Jamie
glared at them. "I am His Royal Highness’ Sentinel, lower those
weapons."
The
guards dithered; then reacting to the dire retribution they saw in the
Sentinel’s eyes, obeyed. "Yes, milord."
"Has
my grandfather arrived at the castle?"
"No,
milord," the younger guard answered respectfully.
"Have
you seen my father, Lord William?"
As
soldiers they would know both commanders of the royal legions.
"No,
Lord James."
"Allow
no one and I mean no one to leave. That includes both the Queen and the
Prime Minster, The Zeller. You--" he pointed to the senior guard,
"--find your commander and tell him to seal the castle including the inner
staircase."
"Sire,
he won’t listen to me, a lowly…"
Jamie
gritted his teeth, he didn’t have time for this. He had spent many hours
assisting his grandfather and commanding his legion, albeit on controlled
expeditions; he was familiar with the protocols and passwords.
"Tell
your commander… Kinson," he remembered, "that the password is ‘Yellow
Modus’ – and that I expect him to obey."
Jim
stalked toward the two guards, fully aware that if Kinson had been corrupted
the order wouldn’t be carried out. They retreated in his wake.
"Raise
the portcullis," he called ahead as he crossed the drawbridge.
The
clanking of the chain announced the retraction of the heavy metal gate. The
entire drawbridge shook and Jamie was reminded of the hundred yards beneath his
feet.
"Milord?"
A savvier captain bowed as he ducked under the partly open gate. Jamie
recognised the older woman as one of his grandfather’s aides. Her hair was
shorter than his own and her muscles were twice as corded. She could, and had,
easily wrestled him into knots on several occasions.
"Why
are you here, Coran? You should be with Lord Ellison? When did you return from
Eilean Ellis?"
"I
was visiting my family at Chaykin while on furlough, I had had enough of my
younger brother and I decided to re-supply before I headed up north."
"Whom
does the commander serve, the Queen or the Ministers?" Jamie asked, he had
hoped that she had been ordered by his grandfather to return to the Royal
Castle.
"The
Queen," Coran rapped smartly, "as do I."
Her
heartbeat remained steady and trustworthy.
The
older guard rushed by the Sentinel and straight into the commander’s office.
The headquarters was tucked in a secure position under the stone curtain wall
on the southern face.
"Good.
Seal this gate allow no one to pass. If anyone tries to leave, turn them back.
If they disagree throw them in the dungeons or kill them, use your
judgement."
Coran
paled but drew herself to attention.
"Be
aware that a Wild Strike Mage may attempt to leave. You can’t miss him – he
looks like a corpse."
The
Commander’s office door opened and lamp light spilled onto the cobblestone
floor of the outer ward.
"Lord
James?" the Commander called.
"You
have your orders. Seal the castle." Jamie had no time for the man. He
continued through the second portcullis to the inner ward, knowing that Kinson
was following his orders. His senses were honed, as crystal perfect as they had
ever been.
The
main foyer was empty except for suits of armour. Jamie paused long enough to
liberate one of the suits of its broad sword. He hefted the long sword easily.
Smiting was the order of the day and his father would be the first to be served
a portion of well honed steel.
Halfway
across the foyer he paused, suddenly realising that he did not know where the
prince was hidden. He had stupidly assumed that he was still in the castle. He
was reacting without thinking. His grandfather would likely be ashamed of him.
Taking
a deep breath as he had been taught, he centred himself, as if for spell
casting. He allowed his senses to quest outwards, looking for an innocent
little boy with a sense of mischief. Ghostly extensions of his hands felt their
way over the castle as his enhanced eyesight searched for the boy.
"Nasty bint!"
He
would recognise that voice anywhere. But where was it coming from? It seemed to
spring from deep within the castle.
The
walls? It seemed to come from the walls. He sniffed and picked up Prince
Blair’s faint scent. The small boy didn’t really have base odour like adults,
he smelled more like chocolate and soap and health. But beneath the familiar
sense of the prince was the sour stench of fear and salty tears.
Jim
tracked it unerringly, straight to the wall behind the suit of armour. There
had to be some kind of passage, but even Sentinel eyes couldn’t make it out. It
had to be magic, spelled to camouflage it. Unhesitatingly, he thrust his
broadsword between two wooden panels and began to lever it back and forth. His
arms master would have been appalled.
The
wood cracked, splintering in two to reveal a passage beyond.
~*~
Blair
twisted in the Goblin Queen’s grip as she dragged him through the passages. He
scuffed his feet in the dust.
"Behave,
brat."
"Jamie’s
coming and he’s going to see to you. You’re in trouble."
Seah
stopped on her heel, she lifted him up by his good arm and shook him until his
teeth rattled. He wanted Jamie and he wanted Jamie now. She dumped him back on
his feet jarring him. The Goblin Queen’s long, pale fingers almost wrapped
twice around his wrist.
"Hear
me, brat." She leaned into his face. "Your Jamie will die."
"No!"
Blair kicked her in the shin as hard as possible.
She
didn’t flinch, but her smooth skin and dark curls seemed to flicker and Blair
saw in that magic instant silken green hair and scaly flesh. Cackling at his
ineffectual attempts, Seah scooped him up, holding him under her arm.
"I’m
going to rule the Land through you. I am going to take the blood of the rulers
and none shall gainsay me. Danu will not be able to defy me, as I will be the
true ruler."
"Mama!
Mama!"
"Your
mama can’t help you. She no longer fulfils her responsibilities. She is no
longer the Queen. You are the heir. You are the next in line. Your soul is
innocent. Your blood is bound to the Land. Your blood will assure my
ascension."
"Jamie!"
Blair began to scream. A hand that looked smooth but felt rough was clamped
over his mouth. He screamed into her palm, his muffled wails going unheard.
~*~
Jamie
followed his prince. Sentinel eyes saw every nook and cranny of the passages and
picked up a single small person’s footprints. The prince had passed here at
some point; the salty tears were still detectable but they were not recently
shed. But his ears led him always downwards to the prince and the footprints
indicated that he had exited through the passage in the foyer.
"That
little bag of mischief’s been using the passages forever," Jamie realised.
He
continued onwards, pausing halfway down a twisted corridor. The prince had
stood by a crack in the panels for some time based on the shuffling imprints.
Jamie squatted and peered through the hole. The room beyond was dark and smelt
of sulphur and aconite. A brazier smouldered in the corner. Bottles, scrolls, a
single skull and a wealth of vials were stacked on shelves along one wall. It
was a mage’s cauldron room, where he cast his secret spells. Jamie had thought
that he knew every corner of the castle, but he hadn’t found this room. His
sentinel senses should have picked up the stench of evil magics.
Time
was of the essence, he couldn’t afford to peer into a mage’s web; he had to
find the prince. He continued hunting. Scents criss-crossing with hearing
almost sent him up a flight of stairs, but the siren voice of his Guide drew
him away from the old trail and downwards.
Some
of the inner staircases he descended were half rotten, but he could pick his
way safely. He exulted in his abilities. Why were they held in check until he
was of age?
"Jamie’s coming and he’s going to see to you. You’re in
trouble."
He
was close, that sounded as if he was directly above the prince. But the echoes
in the stone castle were confusing. Slowing his pace, Jim catfooted forwards
towards an alcove.
Taking
a deep breath, he listened closely….
"…Wake
up, damn you!"
Pain
flared up his cheek as his head was rocked to the side by the force of an open
handed slap. He brought his hand up to retaliate and some – infidel – grabbed
his wrist to stop him punching into oblivion the one who dared to touch him.
"Jamie,
stop it."
"Henri?"
Jamie’s mouth fell open stupidly. "What are you doing here?"
"We’re
looking for Prince Blair." Rafe flailed his hand foppishly. "The
boy’s been kidnapped."
"What?"
Jamie gritted his teeth in consternation. "I went to the grey place didn’t
I? I almost had them. Stupid senses," he railed.
Drawing
in a hideously long drawn breath, he strove for calm. The Wizard Sultan,
Sa’Leem Henri and the Assassin of Acharn stood in a tight semicircle around
him.
"The
prince has been taken," the Wizard Sultan said without preamble. "Do
you know where?"
"No.
But the Goblin Queen has him." Wincing, Jamie manipulated his jaw.
"Why did you hit me?"
"We’ve
been yelling at you for a candle mark. You didn’t respond to soft
cajoling," the Sultan said pithily. "So it’s the Goblin Queen who
took Blair. I should have guessed."
"You
weren’t to know, Sire," Henri said softly.
"What
do you know of the Goblin Queen?" Jamie demanded.
"She
isn’t working alone." Simon pointed curtly down the corridor. "I’ll
tell you as we go."
~*~
And the story all comes together
The
lower room, below the dungeons, was as old as time. Ice had been caught when
the mountain formed in the first aeons. The pocket of steam had erupted like a
volcano hollowing out an immense chamber. The first settlement on the mountain
had worshiped the Dragon Nish that lived in the cavern. The next culture, the
Blue People, had filled in the hole to prevent the evil one escaping. The third
people had retreated in the wake of the ice age that claimed their entire land.
The Sages that returned worshiped their gods on the summit and knew that the
hollow was a geological phenomenon revealed by the retreating ice. The
barbarians that took their place bore the residual memories of their
forefathers and believed that evil resided in the depths and covered the
channel to the hollow. Its presence was lost in time and the hole further
covered as people after people lived and died on the escarpment.
The
cavern had been consecrated to evil.
Blair
sat in the dead centre within a circle of candles.
The
dripping of wax from the candles measured time. He watched as the Goblin Queen
cast aside the illusion of the librarian. Dark curls so like his own changed.
The burnished shine of mahogany gave way to jade green. Pale skin so typical of
the people of Acharn grew scales. And she grew taller and taller. It was Seah
under the changes but it was Queen Seah of the Goblins of the Underworld.
Other
people moved beyond the candles. The Lashes laughed, feeding off his terror –
he knew them, they were almost normal. The Zeller watched with his pale eyes
saying nothing. Trevellyan was scared; Blair could see choppy waves of spiky
unease scurrying over his blobby frame.
He
knew that the Goblin Queen was going to do something really horrible to
Trevellyan. Blair closed his eyes and planted his palms over his face.
As
if thinking about it made it happen he heard a high pitched wail and a squishy
crunch. Blair kept his hands firmly over his eyes, relying on his other senses.
There was a big empty spot standing behind the lurid green of the Goblin Queen.
The dead man was hovering at Seah’s shoulder as the Lashes sucked up
Trevellyan’s grubby soul.
"Child?"
Blair
opened his fingers a sliver and peered through. He had never before seen the
man who had spoken. He was tall with dark blond hair shot through with silvery
strands. His face was lined, warped by something dark feasting on his soul. He
was a warrior, lean of muscle long and tall. The warrior’s eyes were a blinding
blue like the glacial lakes in the kingdom of Chun.
Blair
had seen those eyes in another’s face. "Jamie?" he ventured.
A
feeling – which Blair couldn’t identify – ran roughshod over the man’s face.
"No,
I am William." Setting his sword aside, he crouched.
"You’re
Jamie’s daddy."
"Yes,"
William said slowly.
"Is
Jamie coming?" Blair dropped his hands and looked around, hoping that the
laird had arrived. "Why are you here? These are nasty, bad people."
"I
know, child." A travesty of a smile turned his lips upwards.
Blair
leaned close to the candles to better peer at the man on the other side of the
guttering flames.
"There’s
a hole inside of you and there’s a thing… it’s got no eyes… living there."
William
seemed to shrink. "There was nobody to fill the hole so something else
took up residence."
"What
does that mean?" Blair asked curiously, he stood to better peer at the old
man.
"It
means that I’m damned."
"All
the time?" Blair asked innocently.
William
jerked backwards. "All the time. All the time."
Muttering
to himself, the man rose abruptly to his feet and retreated to the far edge of
the cavern. Blair shuffled closer to the candles, thinking maybe he could jump
over them and run away. The little person dancing in the flame shook his head,
tossing flares up into the air, and pointed at the dead man watching.
The
dead man scared him more than anyone else.
Blair
gnawed on his thumb, hoping that Jamie would come and get him.
Lord
William kept looking at the crack in the wall where they had entered the cavern.
He’d then look at the Goblin Queen and almost say something. The dead man had
noted Jamie’s father’s unease.
Blair
felt a warm thrum in his tummy. Jamie was coming. Jamie was coming. Fear
replaced the buoyant feeling as the dead man spoke quietly to Seah.
"It’s
time," the Goblin Queen announced. She stalked towards him flexing her
talon like hands.
"The
moon hasn’t risen," The Zeller countered angrily, "it’s too
early."
"The
Sentinel of Acharn is coming," Chancellor Lash cackled.
"The
real one." Young Lash cocked his head at William standing up against the
wall, and smiled maliciously.
William
raised his finger in an easy salute.
"It
is his blood that’s important, not when we take it." The Goblin Queen
stepped into the circle of flame.
Blair
backed away to the far edge of the circle. The candles flared, the little
beings telling him not to try to escape or they would have to burn him.
"Leave
me alone. Jamie!"
Seah
called out, "Now is the time. Now is the time. The time that I become the true
Queen of Acharn. The Goblins will oust your people and feast on your flesh.
Evil will rule triumphant. Your blood shall seal Danu to my will." She
threw back her head and laughed.
Blair
ran, regardless of the flames. The Goblin Queen caught him before he ran a
foot. Clenching her hand around his throat, she lifted him, thrusting him into
the air.
Blair
kicked vainly at her arm, but her scaly skin protected her against attack. She
simply laughed.
"Jamie!
Jamie!" he whispered around the hand about his neck. He scrabbled
ineffectually at her arm.
A
soft whisper foreshadowed the Goblin Queen drawing a dagger as long as his leg.
She held it playfully, manipulating it to some unknown rhythm. The serrated
edges reflected the flickering candlelight.
"Ay,
yan é hu. Ay, yan é hu. Ay, yan é hu," she chanted. "A dui a
feyh du."
The
cavern began to vibrate, shuddering with the force of her words. The Goblin
Queen’s minions scurried to the walls as a crack split the earth. Light was
swallowed by the depths. A sleepy moan filled the cavern as something beyond
their sight was awoken.
"Danu,
hear me," Seah crooned. "I take the true king’s heart blood and
sanctify my ascension. A dui a feyh du. O sn yhr ilmy oné."
Seah
raised her knife.
"Jamie!"
Blair wriggled in her grasp hoping for his Sentinel.
Deliverance
arrived, boiling into the cavern in the form of Laird Jamie, the Wizard Sultan,
the Assassin Rafe and Henri.
The
crack in the floor separated them from the Goblin Queen and her captive.
"Stop!"
Jamie screamed his voice reverberating across the cavern.
"You’re
too late. I’ll have his blood."
The
razor sharp knife was brought up in a slow purposeful arch, honing in on a
small heart. Seah’s grin was machiavellian as she enjoyed the abject fear on
the Sentinel’s face.
Futilely,
knowing in the final instance that he was too far away, Jamie began to run.
The
Goblin Queen’s taunting cackle joined Jamie’s desperate scream, echoing amongst
the stalactites clinging to the ceiling.
"No."
William reached up and caught her hand staying her evil stroke.
"How
dare you," Seah snarled. Her lip curled at his presumption.
"He
is only a child," William said desperately.
The
knife turned and neatly skewered the twisted sentinel from navel to spine.
Jamie
flung himself across the gap to save his prince. He leaped the last dash,
smacking into the Goblin Queen. All four fell to the hard earth. Limbs tangled
and the Goblin Queen tried to gain the upper hand. Jamie, his concentration
split, tried to get the prince out of harm’s way and deal with the demon.
Rafe
flowed across the cavern intercepting The Zeller who was rushing to the Queen’s
assistance.
"Perhaps
we’ve met," Rafe said with perfect false politeness. "I’m the
Assassin of Acharn, I protect the Land. Normally covertly--" Rafe parried
The Zeller’s attack, "--but I’m more than willing to act in an obvious
manner." He launched a whirlwind offensive, forcing the minister backwards
and away from the prince and Sentinel.
Simon
stalked purposely across the cavern. The Mage stepped out from a shadow.
Malevolent energies curdled around him, focussing on his hands.
Simon
bowed his head in curt acknowledgement. "I am the Wizard Sultan of
Hannahanna. I challenge you to a Sorcerers’ Duel."
"I
am Bracket, Mage of the Dark Arts. I accept." A lightning bolt boiled
across the cave heading towards the Sultan.
Henri
smiled toothily at the two Lashes as they slunk in his direction.
"Hi."
"Happy
man." Chancellor Lash combed a greasy curl behind his ear. "People like
you, don’t they, Sa’Leem Henri. You’re a nice, happy person. What you see is
what you get."
"No
deceptions." Davy Lash’s fingers twitched in anticipation. "You’ll
make a nice new friend."
Simon
caught the lightning strike between his outstretched hands and fired it back at
the Mage. The cavern was showered with sparks as it coruscated off the shield
Brack formed between them. Simon followed through with another attack, a sharp
spike to shatter Brack’s shield. But the evil Mage was ready, counterattacking
with a hurricane blast of winds. The Wizard Sultan was bowled off his feet.
Hail pummelled his body.
The
Zeller was a superlative swordsman. He was so adept that Rafe realised that The
Zeller was also a trained assassin. They played back and forth testing each
others’ defences. They had shared the same teachers.
"Why
did you leave the guild?" Rafe asked conversationally as he eluded a
lunge.
"What
makes you think that I’ve left the guild?" The Zeller scored a hit on
Rafe’s shoulder. "First blood to me. If you surrender I’ll make your death
painless."
"Ha!"
Rafe reciprocated, slashing The Zeller’s cheek. The Minister evaded his next
attack by the skin of his teeth. Rafe followed through with his attack and
suddenly realised that he had overreached himself.
Henry
faced down the two Lashes. They circled around him trying to break through his
defences. The adjutant wielded both sword and magic in a desperate defence.
Both trying to suck away his essence at once was debilitating.
‘How to defeat them?’
They
craved completion. A completion that they would never find by stealing souls.
Years and years of study didn’t supply any idea of how to defeat the soul
stealers.
Davy
Lash slipped under Henri’s arm and planted a hand on his forehead. The adjutant
shrieked and doubly so when the Chancellor joined his son.
Jamie
struggled to free the prince as the Goblin Queen brought her magicks to bear.
As he rolled them away from his father’s prone form, Seah recited unknown
words. A sear of soul churning pain ripped through his skin threatening to send
him into the grey abyss.
"Jim?"
Blair whimpered.
The
Sentinel came back to himself. He had indeed lost himself in the grey place.
Seah now stood over him, her arm wrapped around the prince’s neck as her knife
bit his skin.
"You’ve
lost, Sentinel, your pathetic little Guide is going to die and I am going to
rule forever."
~*~
Oh, a cliff hanger… Should I continue? Is everyone comfortable hiding
behind the couch? All appears to be lost. The prince is in the Goblin Queen’s
hands.
~*~
Simon
hid within a bank of smoke and rolled away from Brack’s shards of ice fire.
Flexing his will, he enveloped Brack in the smoke. An aeon’s worth of texts
called Brack the most powerful mage that had ever lived. Yet if he were the
greatest, why did he bow down to the Goblin Queen? When he had faced the First
King Blair he had headed an army bent on bringing about the second ice age.
Simon could only hope that the resurrected Mage was a fragment of his former
self.
He
slowly picked his way through the smokes wishing for sentinel senses. The
prince had said that he seen a dead man with no soul. Simon faced a revenant –
a vengeful spirit. He had to send Brack back to the other plane.
‘A
spell of life?’ he mused as he crept through the fog. ‘Or better yet…’
Simon
drew his scimitar and honed in on the gaping void bereft of life before him.
Holding his breath, he lifted his sword high. Lightning flared as Brack tried
to find him. Pungent fog crackled in the air. The smoke around him began to tingle
as the magick charged the fine fog.
Brack
stood before him, vainly questing for his adversary. Simon slid silently over
the stone floor. He drew his scimitar back in a soundless curve. Brack realised
the threat and turned to meet it, energies arching from his hands as Simon
brought his scimitar down in a clean sweep.
The
Mage’s head parted from his body with nary a whisper.
Rafe
tumbled over The Zeller’s sword missing emasculation by a hairsbreadth. Moving
like quicksilver, Zeller followed. Rolling, Rafe avoided the minister’s
downward blow. He planted his hands on the cold ground and somersaulted out of
The Zeller’s reach. Tumbling, like a gymnast, he immediately bounced back
firing both feet against The Zeller’s chest, throwing him to the floor. A sword
skittered away falling into the abyss in the centre of the cavern. The Royal
Assassin of Acharn crouched over the Prime Minister looking into his cold eyes.
There was no mercy in that gaze. Rafe drew his secondary dagger from its arm
sheath and slipped it under The Zeller’s rib cage.
Blood
pooled under The Zeller as Rafe turned away to help his friend, Henri.
Henri
rocked to the horror as the Lashes tried to steal his very being. Horror upon
horror thrummed through him, his worst nightmare castrated any resolution. To
be soul dead was to be never reborn in his Goddess’ Arms. The stars would march
across the heavens and he would never see his companions through his next
lives.
"Goddess,"
he implored. "Al-Lat."
The
answer came to him as he beseeched his Goddess. The evil ones could not take
the prince, as his soul was too bright, too innocent. He opened himself to
Al-Lat, prayed for her help to protect the innocents of the Lands of Acharn. He
had faith; he would be a vessel for her goodness.
"Whoops."
Rafe brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of Chancellor Lash’s head.
The man dropped to the ground like a disconnected puppet.
"Oh."
Henri responded in kind and punched Davy between the eyes. Lash joined his
father on the floor. Rafe flicked his sword back over in his hand and levelled
the blade at the Chancellor’s throat.
"I
should kill him."
"Maybe,
but I’m going to help Jamie." Henri stamped down on Lash, accidentally on
purpose, as he rushed to help the Sentinel.
Jamie
and the Goblin Queen faced each other, circling warily. The prince was silent
in her arms, beyond tears, not even sobbing.
Jamie
curled his fingers around the hilt of his broadsword. The stand-off galled him,
he could see no way out. He promised himself if she hurt the prince she would
never live long enough to ascend to the Crown. But she was not going to shed
one drop of the prince’s blood, that he vowed.
He
preferred to wield his sword rather than depend on magicks, but a
straightforward attack would seal the prince’s fate. Goblins, what worked best
against goblins? He thought frantically but nothing came to mind. She stepped
back, her knife never leaving Blair’s throat. Jamie matched her move in a
precarious dance of death.
The
child was mute, his eyes pleading.
Jamie
faced a goblin. Goblins were creatures of the earth. Killash’s words came to
him from out of nowhere. ‘The goblins are creatures of the earth and that
may help you as I -- a water elemental -- help you.’
Elves
and elementals were notably capricious. Fickle and erratic one had to trawl the
meaning from their words. Earth, Fire, Air and Water were the four base
elements. Air fuelled Fire and Earth put out Fire… His thoughts skittered as he
strove to find a solution.
Killash
had given him the answer: Water. But how?
His
fingers slowly unpeeled from the hilt of his broadsword, one by one. The
broadsword fell to the earth. Seah’s eyes narrowed, confused by his actions.
Jamie stood straight, bringing his hands upwards he began to chant, calling on
the mage gifts he rarely plumbed.
The
Goblin Queen backed away, and without a moment’s hesitation in his spell, Jamie
stepped forwards mirroring her movements. As they danced he drew the moisture
from the seeping stalactites. A bubble coalesced between his hands. The silvery
surface reflected the scene in distorted curves. The Goblin Queen watched it
like a mesmerised snake.
Blair
suddenly kicked out, wailing. He grabbed at her hand.
Jamie
threw the water into her face and launched himself at the pair. Where the water
touched the Goblin Queen’s skin smoke rose, scalding her.
"The
child dies now!" Seah shrieked into his face as they wrestled.
Without
a thought he thrust his hand between the blade and Blair’s neck as she drew
back the blade in preparation to strike. Flesh parted and blood spurted. But
the prince was unmarked. The serrated knife tore into Jamie’s arm, sawing back
and forth.
No
longer held by the Goblin Queen, Blair dropped away, falling at their feet. He
tangled up the Queen’s legs. There was no beauty in their fight, only a
determination to end it. Seah stumbled – half blinded by the scalding water.
Implacable, Jamie kept forcing her back, oblivious to his wounds.
"Be
gone, Bitch Queen!" With an almighty shove, he propelled her out over the
chasm.
Seah
flailed her arms wildly. Magical forces kindled around her as she struggled to
prevent her fall. Astounded, Jamie watched, without realising it his mouth fell
open. She hung suspended, laughing, over the chasm.
"You
think you can defeat me so easily, Sentinel? I will have the prince." She
gestured at Blair sprawled, precariously, on the edge of the abyss.
Before
she could wrangle a spell, Jim snatched the child out of harm’s reach.
"Jamie.
Jamie. Jamie," Blair whimpered, clinging to the laird’s neck.
"You’ll
never take him," Jamie threw at the Queen.
Seah
began to chant. Horrified, Jamie recognised the blood hex; the bespelled
elementals would shred everyone in the cavern, apart from the caster in the eye
of the bloody storm. She would get her blood regardless of his efforts.
Futilely, he hunched around the prince, determined to protect him with the last
bit of his body.
His
skin began to tingle, but not with, Jamie felt, the unspeakable evil of Queen’s
dread spell. A force moved, the like of which he had never felt. Blair felt it
too and quivered in the laird’s one-handed grip.
Irrepressibly,
Blair wriggled in his grasp and peered over his shoulder. Jamie couldn’t help
but turn to look, trapped like a fly in amber.
Elemental
winds tossed Seah’s hair as fire beings twisted around her feet and the mark of
water healed from her face. She was calling on the elemental forces of Acharn
to do her bidding. But she had not taken the prince’s blood. The blood on her
blade was the Sentinel’s and the Mother force disturbed within the chasm rose
at her presumptive demands.
"Hide
your eyes!" Simon screamed. A message that Henri echoed.
Jamie
flung himself to the earth, curling over the prince. Winds tugged at his body as
the firestorm scorched his back. The ground began to quake and a hideous
cracking filled his ears. The air around them moved and his ears seemed to
fill. A thing of great form was filling the cavern, pushing the air to the
corners of the room. Its very presence threatened to drive one insane.
Blair
rolled into a tight ball, muttering, "Mama," very softly.
The
earth quaked beneath them. An almighty clang deafened the Sentinel. The Goblin
Queen’s scream reverberated through the stones. Jamie could have easily lain on
the ground forever, but Blair began to wiggle. Exhausted beyond belief, Jamie
sat upright, rocking back on his heels.
The
Goblin Queen had gone.
The
chasm was sealed as if it had never been. Simon picked himself up and brushed
off his silk robes. He gingerly crept to where the rent had been and
scrutinised the ground closely. Henri and Rafe helped each other up and
tottered over to the Wizard Sultan almost as if they feared to cross the cavern
to reach the Sentinel and prince without Simon’s saying it was safe.
"Is
she dead?" Blair asked softly, he was trying to be brave but his bottom
lip was quivering.
"I
think Danu took her," Jamie whispered.
Blood
pooled around them, seeping from the slash in his arm with every beat of his
heart. They had succeeded, but the weight of success was almost too hard to
bear. Jamie did not turn his head to look at his father’s body. He had nothing
left to give, he had given his all; Jamie toppled backwards unconscious before
he hit ground.
End Chapter IV.
~*~
Chapter V.
~*~
Are you still sitting comfortably? It’s been such a long story… And now
we can write the happy ending for our adventurers. We need to tie up the loose
ends and have a celebration. Don’t you just hate it when a story simply stops?
~*~
Jamie’s recovery
Jamie
awoke. While he was resting on the purest of silk sheets, he could still feel
every thread. His head throbbed with each tiny breath that he inhaled.
He
actually needed a shave for the first time in his life.
Taking
stock, he noted the royal purple sheets and sumptuous four poster bed. The
delicious scent of ripe cherries wafted through an open window; he was in
Blair’s suite of rooms. He didn’t dare move a fraction, knowing that he would
hurt beyond belief.
Without
moving his head, he let his sense of hearing probe the room. A very quiet
person was sitting somewhere in the room. Sound frittered in and out. He sensed
no threat, but curiosity teased the cat. He tried to roll over but aches and
pain flared into agony. Breathing deeply, he settled for moving his aching head
on the pillow.
Blair
was sitting cross-legged in a shaft of sunlight shining through the balcony
windows. He was dressed in the finest royal blue velvet doublet and hose so the
Sentinel guessed that some time had passed. The glass doors were open slightly,
allowing a gentle breeze to ruffle his unruly curls. He played quietly with toy
soldiers. His discarded velvet booties appeared to be standing in as the toy
soldiers’ fort. One toy dressed in white, sporting a golden coronet, was
drubbing a black coated Firbolg. Blair stopped banging the hero against the
baddie and looked profoundly disgruntled. With a spastic throw, he tried to
fling the mock Goblin Queen out of the window. She bounced off the window frame
and fell back into the room. Blair scuttled after her. He picked her up and
succeeded in launching her into the garden below.
He
stood there his shoulders hunched, uncommonly old for his few years.
"Blair?"
Jamie croaked.
The
child spun on his heel.
"Jim!"
he shrieked joyously. He ran towards him and stopped short of jumping on the
bed.
"Hurts?"
he asked quietly. "Cindy Lou said not to touch you."
Timidly,
he climbed onto the bed. He crouched on the far edge, a gulf stood between the
Sentinel and the Guide.
"Why,"
Jamie asked through gritted teeth, "did Cindy Lou say you shouldn’t touch
me?"
The
prince’s brow furrowed. "‘Cos you’re sore. You took the Elvenberry sap an’
Cindy said that made you ‘busy?’" Blair hazarded.
"Sensitive?"
Jamie supplied. The warp and weft of the silk sheets were physically painful.
"Dunno.
She said," and Blair was obviously quoting, "’while focussed on his
goal of rescuing the prince, the young sentinel utilised his senses with great
precision. However, the Elvenberry burnt up every last shred of the resources
in his body. The resultant exhaustion coupled with the massive blood loss from
his wound means that over stimulation is inevitable.’ What’s that mean,
Jamie?"
"It
means when you stay up late you eventually have to go to bed."
"Oh,
you bled everywhere." He waved his hand at Jamie’s arm, his concern
evident.
The
Sentinel craned his head to look at his arm. It rested on a plush cushion and
was swathed in linen bandages. The arm felt divorced from his body. And he was
happy to leave it that way.
"We’ve
got matching bandages." Blair held up his splinted arm.
"Yes."
Blair
shuffled a handbreadth closer.
"What
happened next?" Jamie asked softly.
"Simon
and Henri carried you upstairs and brought you here so Cindy Lou could look
after you."
"Your
suite? Why not my rooms?"
"Mama’s
in your room ‘cos it’s clean and my rooms have always been sealed, so they’re
safe, Rafe says."
"Ah,"
Jamie said knowledgeably. He was not entirely sure what had transpired since he
left the castle, but he would find out soon. It was hard trying to draw out a
confused little boy and give him a modicum of comfort, when he felt so fecking
young himself. His father was dead…
"Is
Jammy looking after you?" Blair pointed in the vicinity of Jamie’s
shoulder.
Jamie
glanced to the left, embracing the distraction. His old favoured toy was
carefully tucked in his blankets. The well loved face brought a measure of
comfort.
"I
said he should be with you while you got better. Cindy said it was a good
idea."
"Thank
you. Where’s your ‘Leya?"
Blair
shrugged. "I dunno, doing D’neirf things. She comes when she can ‘cos
she’s not allowed most of the time. Are you still sore?"
"A
little."
Blair
shuffled a fraction closer. "Rafe’s looking for the bad people. Him and
Henri think that there might be some more bad people. Simon said I should stay
with you and help you. Cindy, Michelle, Mags and Matty are with mama. Joel’s
outside watching after us."
"Good
old Joel."
"I
like Joel; he’s nice." Slowly and surely, Blair had finally reached his
side. A warm, chubby hand rested shyly on his shoulder.
"Hey,
it’s going to be fine, Blair, I promise."
"Pwomise?"
he lisped in his trembling unease.
"I
promise," Jamie said simply.
He
patted the mattress and then held up his arm enticingly. Plainly distrustful,
Blair hesitated. All the wages of many evils rested on the child’s narrow
shoulders.
"They’ve
all gone, Blair. They’ll never hurt you again."
He
held a fragile trust in his hands. The Goblin Queen, Cassie, The Zeller,
Trevellyan, the Lashes and his father would not be allowed to destroy the
prince.
Blair
pursed his lips, filling his cheeks with air, then he nodded, once, a short
sharp nod. Plainly ready to bolt, he shuffled a tad closer and then under
Jamie’s arm. With the patience of a falconer with a fledgling, Jamie handled
his prince. Tense, Blair rested his head on Jamie’s shoulder. The laird allowed
his arm to rest alongside Blair’s back, not hemming him in.
The
prince sighed deeply, relaxing into his embrace. Awake one moment and asleep
the next, he must have fought against sleep, no doubt to keep nightmares away,
throughout the debacle. The Sentinel vowed to guard his charge’s dreams.
Yawning,
Jamie stared up at the plush velvet drapes. Every bone in his body ached except
where a small head rested. Tentatively, he moved his arm to cup Blair’s
shoulders.
The
pain began to drain away
~*~
"Let me through."
Jamie
cracked open a heavy eyelid. Blair was a dead weight resting against his
shoulder, still deeply asleep. The Sentinel had no intention of moving any time
soon.
He
recognised the voice. His grandfather had finally arrived.
"I insist."
Yes,
Lord Ellison had arrived and was demanding to be obeyed. Joel was unyielding,
refusing to allow him to enter the Rose Suite.
"My grandson is inside."
"I do not know you, milord. You may not enter."
Good
old Joel, what a man. Not many people would stand up to Ellis d’Ellison when he
had that glint in his eye.
"Here." Jamie heard the soft snick of a blade and realised that his grandfather
was drawing his Sgian Dubh. "This will tell all that I am the Sentinel
of Acharn. The Queen’s Sentinel."
Jamie
thought he heard a shading of disquiet in his voice.
"Hold it, while I see my grandson."
Unparalleled,
the bodyguard of Wizard Sultan now held all the signets of the Sentinels of
Acharn. Then he remembered that his father would have a ‘dagger black,’ he
would have to remember to retrieve it. The hollow feeling in his gut grew anew.
Each
door into the Rose Suite opened. The final door opened and Ellis stood at the
threshold. He hadn’t changed, he was still tall, his face lined with creases
from the sun and wind and his eyes a piercing blue. His grandfather and father
were often mistaken as brothers.
"Grandson,"
he whispered in deference to the slumbering prince.
"Grandfather."
Jamie nodded infinitesimally.
Ellis
crossed the last step. His wintry eyes took in every jot. Then, surprising Jim
beyond belief, he leaned down and planted a dry kiss on his forehead.
"I’m
proud of you."
"Oh,
Danu," Jamie croaked. He rested his cheek on the soft cap of curls tucked
up against his neck and fought back tears. "Father is dead... He died
saving the prince."
"I
know, the Sultan… Simon told me everything."
"Why
didn’t you come months ago?" he almost wailed.
"William
was here." Ellis’ skin turned grey. "I thought…" he couldn’t
finish.
"I
don’t know what made him do it. I never suspected he was even here."
Ellis
sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "We’re not infallible." He
laughed without humour. "I had dreams; I didn’t understand them. Until I
heard your call, I ignored their portent, thinking that for once I’d let
William handle the Queen. I thought maybe they’d bond."
"So
you knew something was amiss?" Jamie said icily.
Ellis
fixed him with an equally frigid glare. "There’s always something feckin’
well amiss, grandson. Welcome to the Sect of the Sentinel."
"How?"
Jamie made an unthinking attempt to sit up. Blair muttered sleepily and Jamie
relaxed immediately back in his pillows. "Why did they awaken? I don’t
hold the key."
"Your
key is currently draped across your shoulder," Ellis said with affection.
"And you were obviously needed." The tones of bereavement were back
in his voice.
"The
prince: ‘His Royal Highness Prince Blair Nechtan Finn of the House of
Sandburg-Bran, Holder of the Keys to the Weardian, Heir to the Lands of Acharn
and Protector of the People.’ Weardian? It’s an old word for sentinel, isn’t
it?"
"Yes."
"Do
sentinels always find their guides in the royal family?" Jamie bit his
lip. His grandfather had had a guide in the late King Blair. He remembered with
the poor recall of a child, the dark shroud around his island home when the
king had died. He hated to remind the old man of his loss.
Ellis
took a deep breath, weighing his words with great care. "Normally, yes,
but not always. Your great great-grandmother found her guide in a shepherdess.
We can always make a choice."
"So
father could have found a guide outside the royal family?"
Ellis
clasped his hands together. "If he had looked."
"I
don’t understand."
Ellis
appeared uncommonly wise. "I think it is fear that prevents us from
sometimes finding our guides."
"I
need to know why father did it. Why he betrayed the Land and then in the last
moment saved the prince. It doesn’t make any sense," his voice rose
stridently.
"Jamie?"
Blair grumbled, sleepily. He pushed off Jamie’s shoulder and sat upright.
"Who?" he demanded glaring at the Queen’s Sentinel.
"This
is my grandfather, Lord Ellison."
Blair
rubbed his nose drowsily, and simply scowled at the old man.
"Good
afternoon, Your Highness."
"Jamie’s
poorly sick; you have to go away," the Prince ordered.
Ellis’
eyebrows rose into his hairline, no easy feat.
"Am
looking after him. You go away."
Jamie
canted his head to the side, moderately amused by his Guide’s obdurate
behaviour. "It’s all right, Blair."
Blair
found his feet, balancing on the feather mattress. "You can’t have him. He
has to stay. He’s not going." The child’s hackles were up and he was
growling like a wolf cub.
A
flush coloured Lord Ellison’s cheeks. He was rarely yelled at by the Lords and
Ladies of the realm – in fact nobody raised their voice in his presence. The
Sentinel was the one with the sharp temper and caustic wit.
"Your
Highness, when I last called Jamie home, it was to teach him things that he
needs to help you best…"
"Promise?
Never again?" Blair interrupted.
"Blair?"
Jamie distracted the prince from an answer that the honourable Lord Ellison
could not help but give him. It was likely that in the future the Queen’s
Sentinel would call him away from the prince’s side to better serve both the
prince and the Land, but he could swear that Blair would never be alone ever
again.
"Jamie
will stay with you for a long time," Ellis said with perfect honesty. A
restrained smile crossed his face tinted with a little bit of jealousy.
"Grandfather?"
Jamie began.
"No,
son." Ellis rose from the bed, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on
his shoulder. "I’m going to visit the Queen; if she’s able, we have a lot
to talk about."
He
bowed to the prince. Blair watched him leave with a truculent expression, and sighed
happily when he closed the door behind him.
Jamie
rolled his eyes heavenward. "That wasn’t very nice of you, Prince
Blair."
He
blinked innocently. "What?"
"He’s
my grandfather, he’s important to me. But you reminded him of someone he tries
to forget about everyday."
"Don’t
understand," Blair grumbled. He shifted off the bed and jumped down, his
bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. He moved back to his toys by the
window.
"I
don’t think you did it on purpose." Jamie debated on whether or not to get
out of bed. He decided to stay flat on the mattress. Apparently Blair didn’t
want to share him with anyone, including Jamie’s own grandfather. Given the
circumstances of the last few days, not to mention the time that Blair had
spent under Cassie’s tender care, Jamie was willing to indulge him. In all
honesty, Jamie was pretty sure he didn’t want to share his Guide with anyone,
including his grandfather.
It
was a sobering thought; he had indeed found his guide and he had already shown
what happened to people who tried to take him away.
"Blair?"
The
prince, who was busy lying on his tummy talking to a white garbed toy soldier,
ignored him.
"Blair?"
He
looked up at Jamie. "This is you." He wiggled the toy. "Rafe sez
I should play with the soldiers and talk to them. He gave them to me."
"Which
one’s Rafe?"
Blair
selected another soldier. The toy was exquisitely carved in black mahogany and
painted in fine gold lines. The prince held it up for Jamie to see.
"Who’s
Henri?"
Displaying
the astounding flexibility only a child could show, he twisted round and
shuffled onto his bottom. Scrabbling under the armchair in the corner of the
room, he pulled out a bald teddy bear with a potbelly and only one eye.
"Rafe
said this was Henri."
Jamie
laughed.
"Will
you play with me, Jamie?" Blair asked hopefully.
Worn
beyond belief, but unwilling to disappoint his prince, Jamie simply patted the
feather bed. "You’ll have to bring the soldiers to me."
"I
don’t wanna play soldiers. Nasty soldiers and sharp knives. Not nice." He
dragged out a box from the armchair. It was obviously his hiding place. All his
toys were kept safe and out of view. "Let’s play checkers, nothing nasty
happens when you play checkers."
~*~
A lesson learned
Blair
leaned across Jamie’s bed, balancing on his elbows. The laird had been given a
painkilling draught and he was sleeping with his mouth wide open. A tiny snore
escaped. Jamie was fast, fast asleep -- in the Land of Nod, as Blair’s mama
would say. The line between Jamie’s eyebrows had whispered away to nothing. His
bandaged arm rested on his tummy on top of the quilt. He looked very
comfortable.
Smiling,
Blair patted the laird’s shoulder and slithered off the mattress. Jamie was
happy but Blair was bored.
"’Leya,"
he whispered. "’Leya."
A
subtle pop and the D’neirf appeared mid-air and dropped to the wooden floor.
"’Leya."
He scooped her up and hugged her close, squishing her against his chest.
"I missed you. Where did you go?"
The
D’neirf shrunk in on herself. A faint touch on his mind reminded him of his
mama in a snit.
"Oooh,
you in trouble?"
‘Leya
blinked her eye, good-naturedly.
"But
you helped!" Blair’s voice rose dramatically. "Why are you in
trouble? I don’t understand, Jamie said Danu saved us."
On
the bed, Jamie muttered disjointedly. Blair shushed immediately, dropping ‘Leya
and clapping his hands over his mouth.
"That’s
not fair," Blair hissed through his fingers. "She helped; she took
Seah ‘cos she was bad. Why are you in trouble?"
The
feeling that came through was the succinct and to the point: ‘mothers.’ Blair
sighed in an agreement.
"I
havenae seen mama, but Cindy Lou says that she’s getting better. Uncle Simon
and everyone are keeping her safe in Jamie’s room. I’m looking after
Jamie," he said proudly.
The
D’neirf jumped up on the headboard and peered at the sleeping Laird.
"I’m
a bit bored, though," Blair admitted. "But I promised not to
leave the room," he huffed.
‘Leya
craned her head round to stare at him levelly.
Tutting,
Blair moved over to the window. "I was just thinking it. But I did
promise. Jamie would come after me, wouldn’t he, and that would make him more
poorly sick. Cindy said I was to look after him and he’d miss me if I weren’t
here, even if he was asleep. I’ve got ‘responsibilities.’ I’m still bored,
though," he finished introspectively.
Meowing
in commiseration, the D’neirf jumped off the bed. She slinked her way over to
the balcony windows and waited purposely. Knowing her intentions, Blair padded
to her side.
"We
could sit in the sun, couldn’t we? We’d still sort of be in the room."
Very
carefully, he pushed open the glass door and crept onto the balcony, without
disturbing the sleeping laird. The inner garden was blooming, almost as if it
knew that the threat to the Land was defeated. Fat luscious cherries hung on
the tree in the centre of the garden.
"Oooh;
they look nice, don’t they. Can’t get down." Blair picked at the splint on
his arm. His fingers weren’t even swollen, but Cindy wouldn’t let him take off
the bandages. "Not allowed."
Carefully,
he unravelled the knot holding the splint. He resorted to his teeth once or
twice, but eventually his arm was free. He wiggled his fingers since they felt
sort of strange, as if they didn’t fit properly.
"Cherries,"
he intoned, he liked cherries.
‘Leya
hissed, her yellow eye seemed to glare. Sighing, the prince looked back to the
sleeping Sentinel, he was fidgeting a little bit and his feet were moving
beneath the covers. Defeated by a new sense of responsibility, Blair sat down.
Poking his legs through the decorative pillars he let them dangle.
"Bored,"
he announced.
The
cherry tree rustled. Entranced, Blair watched as a branch dripping with
succulent berries reached over to him.
"Hello."
He held out cupped hands and a bunch of cherries dropped onto his palms.
"Thank you."
He
munched on one blissfully, offering another to the D’neirf. ‘Leya sniffed;
cherries weren’t really her cup of tea.
The
branches rustled, Blair watched rapt as twigs twisted to form a mouth and
leaves formed lips and cheeks. Shiny black cherries became lustrous eyes. The
figure sort of looked like Robyn, but was a golem made of bits of the tree.
"Hello,
Robyn. I thought you couldn’t leave Miles?"
"I
haven’t really. All trees are one. The cherry tree is helping me speak to you.
Miles doesn’t mind."
"Is
that how you knew that Jim was in the Great Forest?"
"Yes."
"Danu
saved us."
Robyn
smiled and passed over another handful of cherries. "You are
blessed."
"Yeah,
I like cherries too."
The
leaves shivered with gentle laughter. A faint shimmer in the bow of the trunk
caught his eye. Focusing, he saw the castle guardian, Becky, sitting between
the big branches.
"Hey,
Becky, are you and Robyn friends?"
::Hello.
Yes, indeed, Robyn and I are friends::
"Why
didn’t you tell Jamie everything, instead of making him lost?"
Blair
leaned out into the garden to grab an offered cherry.
::I
didn’t know everything. The Mage had protections which prevented me from
getting into the dungeons, so I knew that something was happening::
"Danu
didn’t tell you to send Jamie?"
::No::
Becky said slowly. ::I thought Danu wouldn’t mind me giving you a… little
help::
Becky’s
wraith form shivered, disappearing from view. Robyn handed across another spray
of cherries, and Blair lost track of the conversation. He entertained himself
spitting out the cherrystones, seeing how far he could propel them.
"So
why can’t you, and ‘Leya and Becky tell me everything?" he finally asked
around a mouthful of sweet cherries.
"Choice."
"Choice?
What does that mean?"
"Little
prince, you would hate it if I told you that you would understand when you get
older."
Blair
cocked his head to the side, trying to glean some idea of what she spoke.
"I don’t understand."
"The
world is built on certain beliefs and laws. They aren’t immutable…"
"What
does immu... immu… mean?"
The
twig mouth moved in a gentle smile. "Can’t be changed. But for the most
times these guidelines are adhered to."
"You’re
using big words deliberately," Blair accused.
"True."
Robyn changed tack. "You don’t like wearing the clothes that Jamie chooses
for you."
Blair
went along with the apparent change in subject. "No, they’re silly and
uncomfortable."
"Why
does he make you wear them?"
His
bottom lip stuck out as he pondered. "I dunno. He says that they ‘reflect
my station.’"
"What
does that mean?"
"I
dunno. I think so people know who I am."
"So
why do you wear them?"
"’Cos
Jamie likes these ones."
"It’s
a silly rule isn’t it?"
"Yes."
Blair nodded emphatically.
"But,
if you were lost in the dungeons and a guard found you, he’d know who you are
and be able to return you to your mother."
"That
happened when I was little. But I’m big now, so I know who I am. I don’t need
to wear princey clothes."
"You
don’t make this easy do you?" Robyn whispered introspectively. "Your
clothes are a good thing or a bad thing depending on the situation. The rules
that allow the Avatars of Danu to help can seem to be a good or middling or bad
thing. Some Avatars are more lax in their interpretation of the guidelines of
Danu than others."
‘Leya
twisted around and licked her hip, with casual insolence.
"When
you are older you’ll be able to choose your own clothes."
"Like
Simon," Blair said eagerly. "No one tells him what to wear."
"Even
if his feet get cold in his sandals. Hannahanna is a hot country so he would be
a lot more comfortable if he wore boots while in Acharn. But that’s
digressing."
"In
the name of Danu, what are you two talking about?" Jamie staggered onto
the balcony, his bare legs poking out from under his shirt. He plonked down
beside the prince, manoeuvring his legs out between the balcony pillars so they
too dangled.
"Robyn’s
trying to ‘plain why they didn’t tell us what was happening."
Jamie
nodded respectfully to the Dryad of Acharn and gratefully accepted a handful of
cherries.
"To
be honest, all I knew was that something was amiss within the Land of Acharn. I
did not know its source." The extension of Robyn shrugged, rustling the
entire tree. "I’m trying to explain why Danu waited until the last
possible moment to save you. Perhaps you, Lord James, can explain matters of
theology and philosophy. Danu respects her children, be they High Avatars or
tiny bairns, but she doesn’t tell them what to do. She allows them to
choose."
"But
she’s not adverse to lending a helping hand when it is necessary?" Jamie
offered.
"Indeed,
when it is necessary," she put a peculiar emphasis on the final
word.
~*~
The Court
"I
don’t want to go!" Blair squalled. He stamped his feet well on his way to
a pure, unadulterated tantrum.
"You
will go and you will wear the clothes that Rafe laid on the bed," Jamie
said flatly.
"No."
Blair confounded the Sentinel by dropping on his knees and crawling under the
large four poster bed.
"Blair,
your presence at the royal court is required."
Moving
like an arthritic old man, Jamie bent down on his hands and knees. He peered
under the bed. Blair had tucked himself in the far corner well out of reach.
Curled in a ball, the prince had wrapped his arms around his knees.
"Blair,"
Jamie said tiredly. "The Lords and Ladies of the Land need to see that the
succession is safe. That means that you have to be seen. Your presence at the
trial is required, you’ll only be there for the indictment – then you can come
back here to play."
"I
don’t get to watch?" Blair’s sapphire eyes flashed fire.
"Make
your mind up, Chief. Do you want to go or not?"
Huffing
angrily, vexed by the insanity found in adults, Blair crawled out from under
the bed.
"Oh,
look at you; you’re all dusty."
Blair
accepted with poor grace a bath. He was less than impressed when he was
wrestled into a royal purple doublet and hose, even though Jamie pointed out to
him, that he too had to wear his smart clothes. Rafe had to put the final
touches to Jamie’s finest doublet, as one handed he couldn’t tie the silk ruff
around his throat.
Eventually,
they made it to the royal court. The circular hall was filled to capacity, the
clans of the Highlands were rowdy in their northern quarter and the lowland
Lords in the southern quarter were equally noisy. The Ocean faring clans of the
Western Isles faced the eastern farmers and they too added to the clamour.
Jamie
kept his hand firmly on Blair’s shoulder as they entered the deafening throng.
The first lady to see them stood. Lady Cassilde waved imperiously for her
family to stand. Their movement alerted the other eastern families. The western
sailors followed. The northern clans were last to stand.
"What
are they doing?" Blair whispered for sentinel ears.
"They
are paying you homage."
"Why?"
"Because
you are a brave little prince."
"Am
not little."
"Fine,
you’re a big prince."
"What’s
‘homage’ mean?"
Jamie
bit his bottom lip to stop from smiling outright. "Bow," he directed.
Blair’s
face scrunched up mutinously, but then defying his first instincts, he executed
a perfect princely bow, not too deep and not too shallow. Jamie echoed his
obeisance.
Blair
gawked at everyone, marvelling at the different people. There was one man on
the northern dais who was even taller than Simon. He had hair the colour of
living flame and a barrel of a chest. Jamie directed him to a seat in the inner
circle, padded with a purple cushion. Blair hefted himself onto the seat,
slapping at Jamie’s helping hand.
"Why
does everyone in that part of the room wear kilts?" he asked ingenuously
and loud enough for most to hear.
"People
in the north wear kilts."
"Why?"
"Because,
Prince Blair," the giant boomed. "They are useful as a blanket, a
towel, a tent or a stretcher." His laughter echoed around the hall, as
contagious as a common cold.
Silence
reigned once more as Lord Ellison entered the Council Chamber. He stood at the
entrance, almost deliberately impressive as he scanned the crowd. Once assured
of their honesty, he stepped aside. Queen Naomi, appearing wraithlike, entered
regally into the hall.
"Mama!"
Blair shot forward as if fired from a cannon. "Mama!"
Queen
Naomi dropped to her knees, arms outstretched. Blair flung himself into her
arms, not even aware of Lord Ellison subtly bracing her.
"Mama,
I missed you so much." He peppered her face with kisses. Queen Naomi
responded in kind, stroking his chestnut curls.
"I
thought," Jamie said in an aside, "that the Queen was unable to
appear and that was why Prince Blair had to make an appearance."
"She
insisted." Lord Ellison shrugged. "She compromised, stating she will
stay only for the reading of the charges and the appointment of the new
minister."
The
host of clans were quiet watching the reunion. Even a few hardy souls appeared
moved.
Lord
Ellison bent forwards. "Perhaps it is time to take a seat."
Jamie
heard Queen Naomi whisper very quietly, "I still feel a little fragile,
sweetie, I can’t lift you up."
Blair
backed away as if burnt. Jamie moved to intercept, masking Blair’s horrified
expression from the watching clans.
Queen
Naomi took his chubby face between her hands. "I’m almost better, darling.
I’m here. You just have to be careful."
Blair
glued himself to her hip, as Lord Ellison helped her rise. Together they
crossed the hall, the Queen settled herself regally on a chaise longue. Whilst
it was apparent that she was ill, the message was received that she was
capable. Blair settled next to her, snuggling. The Queen’s Sentinel took a
guarding position at her back. Jamie stood next to his grandfather, his hand
resting on his dirk concealed in his fealeadh beg.
Blair
was watching the proceedings with great interest; now that he had his mama,
waves of relaxed contentment rolled off him, soothing those in his immediate
vicinity. It was apparent to the laird that he would have to at least begin to
teach the rudiments of shielding magic to the young prince, sooner rather than
later. In the meantime it promised to make a no doubt chaotic council meeting a
lot easier.
Blair
was waving to the nobility he recognised. The Assassin of Acharn – who had
taken his place with the Lords of the Western Isles – waggled his fingers. The
Wizard Sultan and his Adjutant sat watching the proceedings from a segregated
box separating the northern clans and eastern farmers.
Lord
Ellison took his place in the inner circle, in the northern face opposite Lord
Malú of the Lowlands. He did not sit.
"Come
to order," he spoke evenly, his voice cutting through the hubbub of
conversations.
Silence
followed.
"I
speak on behalf of her Royal Highness, Queen Naomi. As you can no doubt see,
there are members of the Council of Acharn that are not present, these Lords and
Ladies are in custody. There had been treason committed against the Queen. A
plot to wrest the Crown from the hands of the Sandburgs has been foiled, as
have several murder attempts including one most insidious."
Bedlam
reigned.
Ellison
rode the pandemonium as if fighting a wild stallion. Most were aware that evil
was afoot, a few were determined to ferment further discord. Jamie noted that
the younger brother of Chancellor Lash would need to be watched.
"The
inner cadre against Her Royal Highness consisted of: The Zeller, Lord William
Ellison, Lord Trevellyan of Piob Mhor and Chancellor Lash with his son, David
Monaghan. Members of the inner council who supported The Zeller’s plans are as
follows…"
Jamie
listened in awe as Lord Ellison listed the other council members who had gone
along with The Goblin Queen’s insane plan. His grandfather had indeed been busy
while he had been on his sick bed. However, nothing was said of the true threat
of the Goblin Queen.
Jamie
waited until the council had listened to the profusion of charges laid at the
feet of the perpetrators. He knew that the Lashes and the seven other Lords and
Ladies who had been implicated would be brought into the chamber to be judged
by their peers.
During
the pause while the rambunctious council members absorbed the charges, he
extricated the prince from his mother’s grasp. Blair, despite being newly
reunited with his mama, was bored beyond belief. Jamie directed the prince from
the hall with a hand on his shoulder.
"What’s
going to happen?" Blair stage whispered as soon as the tall oak doors
closed behind them.
Jim
didn’t want Blair to witness the proceedings nor did he want him to be in the
presence of the Lashes ever again. "The new minister, my grandfather, will
listen to the evidence against the Lashes and the Lords Botan, Illium, nic
Deovid, the Sheriff Duncan and the Ladies Madeline, Sarah and Amantha. Then he
will pass judgement."
"Oh."
Jamie
wondered how much the bright little boy understood.
"Let’s
go to the kitchens," Blair said emphatically. "I think we deserve a
honey cake. We can get a haunch of beef for your wolf friend Tay and visit him
in the orchard. He’s been talking to Robyn."
"It
sounds like a good plan."
Blair
held his hand out, his expression expectant. Jamie realised that for the first
time Blair was offering his embrace, previously Jamie had waited patiently for
the prince to accept his grip. He carefully enfolded the tiny hand in his palm
and squeezed gently. Blair squeezed back and a sunny grin broke out on his impish
face. Swinging their clasped hands together, they sauntered down the corridor,
their thoughts not on evil Lords and Ladies but how they could finagle honey
cakes from Mags the cook.
The Ceilidh.
Blair
squealed happily running around the great hall. The plaids of his tiny kilt
streamed out behind him. A tousled headed child, formally decked out in velvet
and lace chased after him. Ancient Lord Malú froze like a statue as they
skirted around him, intent on their game of chase. Jamie almost moved to intercept,
until he realised the Lord was quite safe, unless he moved. Blair ducked to the
side and his new friend chased him across the hall and behind one of the suits
of armour standing guard along the wall.
"Who’s
the little red head?" Jamie asked Rafe who was sprawled beside him on the
low couch.
"Daniel,
my older sister’s boy. I thought Blair would benefit from a friend his own age.
If he spends too much time with adults he’ll become serious." He
smiled at his own joke.
"But…"
"Don’t
worry, Jamie. Daniel’s cut from the same cloth as Blair. A little
bookworm."
"Why
am I not reassured?"
With
Daniel hot on his heels, Blair darted between the dancers who were weaving
their way through an intricate dance in the centre of the hall. The celebration
in honour of those who had delivered Acharn from the forces of darkness was
going well. Jamie watched the proceedings, striving for a cynical air but not
succeeding. Vast quantities of food had been consumed during the banquet along
with mead and fine wines. Jamie had begged off the rounds of dances using his
arm and weariness as an excuse. There were a bevy of ladies watching him from
across the hall waiting for him to show the slightest interest.
Blair
squealed, his happiness echoing through the rafters above. The candles and
flowers decking the hall seemed to glow brighter, responding to his glee.
With
an almighty leap, the prince flung himself onto the soft couch that his mother
reclined on. Cindy, at her side, moved to intercept him. A slight gesture from
the Queen stayed her hand.
"Mama!"
Suddenly still and restrained, he carefully entwined his arms around the
recuperating Queen’s neck.
Even
though she had been removed from the plethora of herbs and malevolent poisons
making her ill and the subtle magicks inhabiting her chambers, the Queen was
making a slow recovery. But every day saw a tiny improvement. True recovery was
many months in the future but she was still determined to see her people and to
let her people see that she was alive and well, as she had in the council
chamber.
Incandescent,
Blair snuggled in against his mama. The pendulum of his being that swung
between a clutching demand for security and defensive arrogance, seemed to
swing to those extremes a little less every day.
Rafe’s
nephew screeched to a halt in front of the Queen’s couch. Jamie could
practically see him making the connection between his new friend and her
majesty.
"Can
Blair play some more?" He made a practised little bow.
Queen
Naomi craned her head to the side to regard her son. "I don’t know, do you
want to?"
"Juice
first, please."
"Would
you like some, young Daniel?"
The
red head nodded shyly.
She
clicked her fingers and three goblets of refreshing cloudberry juice were delivered
adroitly. Jamie watched as Blair and Daniel sat on the edge of the chaise
longue swinging their legs, drinking juice, as happy as clams in the mud.
"I
think you’re right, Your Grace," Jamie said sagely.
"Eh?"
Rafe was watching three nubile young things dancing a trio.
"Blair
and Daniel, I think he will benefit from a friend his age. I don’t like the
thought of him being alone."
Rafe
dragged his gaze away from the lassies. "Yes, that’s why I asked his
guardian to bring him to the citadel. Excuse me, I’m going to dance with
Susn."
Jamie
shook his head as Rafe sauntered towards Lady Anne’s daughter. The debutantes
clustered around the rakish assassin and he lapped up their attention.
"You
don’t want to dance?"
Jamie
was disturbed from his contemplations by a distinctive voice. The Wizard Sultan
ducked his head in acknowledgement. He held two goblets, one of which he
offered to the laird.
"May
I sit?" he raised an eyebrow.
Jamie
stuttered, "Of course, Sire." He bounced to his feet and conducted
the Wizard Sultan to his seat.
"I
think you can call me Simon, Jamie."
"Of
course, Sire."
Simon
shook his head. "You acquitted yourself very well, I hope that your
grandfather has told you how proud he is of you."
A
faint blush touched Jamie’s fair cheeks. "Yes," he said tightly.
"Good."
He handed across one of the goblets. "This is a subtle nectar from my
home. I think you’ll enjoy it."
Jamie
couldn’t find the bad manners to refuse. The liquor felt more than it tasted.
Very strange; it seem to evaporate on his tongue.
"How
are you feeling, Jamie?"
"My
arm’s almost healed."
"I
didn’t mean that." Simon peered at him over his magic lenses.
"Oh?
Oh?" Jamie unconsciously looked to the right and the left. "You mean
the… sentinel gifts?"
"Yes,"
Simon drawled.
"I
don’t really know if I am supposed to use them." Jamie stared at his
grandfather standing guard behind the Queen and the prince. As far as he was
aware, Ellis had not left the Queen’s side since she had awoken from her
enchanted stupor. His grandfather was exuding guilt. "I mean it’s not as
if I have reached the age of reason or been given the keys. That’s not accurate
– Blair is my key."
Jamie
gritted his teeth in frustration. The plaintive tone in his voice had betrayed
his unease.
"You
should talk to your grandfather."
"I
will after the celebration."
"Will
you?"
"Yes,"
Jamie said shortly. He knew that he had lessons to learn regarding his gifts.
But unlike his father he had a guide. How could he justify his father’s actions?
What had led him to work with the Goblin Queen? Was it purely that he hadn’t
found a guide? That he hadn’t looked for a guide?
In
that instance he was so very angry he wanted to spit.
"Jamie?"
Simon asked curiously.
Would
he ever understand what had driven his father? In that last instance he had
saved the prince. Was it that a sentinel couldn’t kill a potential guide? Were
sentinels that weak that they couldn’t understand honour without a guide? Yet
in the last instance his honour had been intact. It was so very tragic.
"Jamie?"
"What
did they hope to achieve?" Jamie asked. "The Goblin Queen wanted to
oust the people… that included The Zeller and the Lashes so why help her?"
"I
don’t think the Lashes are sane, who understands their motivations. Where did
the Council send them?"
"They’ve
gone to the Druids to be cured," Jamie supplied, even though he knew the
Wizard Sultan was fully aware of the soul stealers’ fate.
"Trevellyan
was an ass. And Brack was the Goblin Queen’s minion brought from the dead. I
doubt they had much thought behind them. Thankfully, we only faced a revenant
of the Mage Brack. Facing a reincarnated Brack with all his gifts would be
scary beyond all thought."
"The
Zeller?"
"Who
knows? I think he is the worst of them all. He was an intelligent, evidently
sane man willing to destroy us all."
"Perhaps
you’re right we will never understand their motivations," Jamie grumbled.
Jamie’s
gaze drifted to the prince, he had finished his juice and he and Daniel were
back to running wild around the room. Duchess Michelle caught them before they
could duck under the long table holding dainties and victuals for the
celebrants. She drew the boys into a dance, teaching them the steps in the
intricate dance.
Simon
relaxed onto his cushions. "So what do your gifts tell you?"
Jamie
realised that the Wizard Sultan was not going to let him pass the onus of his
gifts back to his grandfather. He supposed that his double-be-damned sense of
responsibility wouldn’t allow him to. Jamie focussed on the prince,
instinctively knowing that he would be able to perceive a threat to the child
easier than to the Land.
"I
feel contentment," Jamie blurted. He took another draught of the Sultan’s
peculiar nectar.
"Good."
Simon wriggled until he was comfortable on the couch. He interlaced his fingers
together and rested his joined hands on his stomach. "I guess my job is
done."
"Does
that mean that you’re going to go back to Hannahanna?"
Simon
shrugged his shoulders. "Eventually."
"Jamie.
Jamie. Jamie." Blair weaved between the ceilidh dancers. He slid to a halt
before the laird and the Sultan.
"Yes,
Blair?"
"Michelle
said the next dance is going to be a set. That means we have to have three
girls and three boys. Come on." He grabbed Jamie’s hand and tugged him to
his feet.
The
laird was dragged into the centre of the hall where the newly elevated Lady
Matilde and the premier physician of the Land stood with Duchess Michelle.
Blair’s new friend was waiting with the ladies. Jamie was drawn into the group.
He had intended to be a wallflower throughout the night, but it looked like his
prince was determined to make him join in the celebration.
Jamie
was summarily partnered with Duchess Michelle. He bowed deeply as she curtsied.
Watching like a hawk, Blair copied – bobbing to his partner Matilde. Daniel
bowed deeply to Cindy Lou. The music started and the lively rhythm made feet
dance and toes tap. Blair grinned up at him, his curls tousled around his
happy, cheeky face. Jamie couldn’t help but realise that this was a memory that
he would remember and cherish.
It
was a perfect moment.
Finis.
P.S.
They all lived happily ever after.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer:
no Seahs were hurt in the writing of this missive
