David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Though a short journey, the terrain proved difficult. For the first few days, as they steered their mounts through the highlands, the wind blew hard and cold from the west, howling in the boulders strewn across the land and making the tall brown grasses bow and quiver like frightened supplicants in Bian’s Sanctuary. On the third day, they began the slow descent off the Caerissan Steppe, following a winding path that had been worn by years and years of use. At times the path grew so narrow that they had to ride in a single line. The wind continued to blow, and though Cresenne had hoped to keep them from reaching the royal city too quickly, she longed for this portion of their journey to end.

“What is it you see in the boy?” she finally asked Grinsa on that third morning, as they made their way down the slope of the steppe. The path was wider here, and Grinsa was just beside her.

She kept her voice low, but still the gleaner immediately looked at Tavis to see if he had heard. When the boy gave no indication that he had, Grinsa slowed his mount slightly, to put more distance between himself and Tavis. Cresenne did the same.

“I see what you see,” he said softly. “An arrogant, spoiled boy, embittered by his dark fate, and more concerned with his own welfare than that of those around him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My, what a special friend you’re found.”

“I also see much promise in him, and many fine qualities that already distinguish him from other nobles. He’s fiercely loyal to his realm and his house. He has more courage than you might expect-the scars he bears are testimony to his strength as well as his pride. And he’s uncommonly clever. I believe, in time, he’ll make a fine ruler, either for his dukedom or his kingdom.”

“I see. Has he offered to make you his first minister?”

Grinsa laughed. “If you’re trying to goad me, it won’t work. Tavis would never think to do so, and I have no ambitions of that kind.” He glanced at her, his expression turning grim. “But you should know this as well. He knows as much about my powers as you do, and he has never once tried to use that knowledge against me, nor has he shown any fear of my abilities. And of the two of you, I worry far less about him betraying me than I do about you.”

He kicked at the flanks of his horse and sped forward until he had caught up to the boy. And for the rest of that day, Cresenne and Bryntelle rode alone.

They reached the royal city on the sixth day after their departure from Glyndwr. They had been able to see the city from the slope of the steppe for several days, and even from leagues away, Cresenne could not help but be impressed by the size of the city and its great castle. Both were square in shape, the fortress centered within the stone walls of the city. There was a sanctuary in each corner, one each, she knew, for the four ancient ones, Elined and Amon, Morna and Bian. But until their small company came to the city gates, she did not appreciate the true immensity of Eibithar’s City of Kings. Neither the castle nor the city could be called beautiful. There was something ponderous and unimaginative in the design of both. She saw here none of the grace of the castles of southern Caerisse or Aneira, nor even the more subtle beauty of the older Eibitharian cities. What she did see was power, raw and unassailable. A royal city was supposed to be the realm’s last defense against any invader, and more than all the other royal seats in the Forelands, except perhaps for the Imperial Palace in Curtell, the City of Kings met that need. She could not imagine any army, or combination of armies, defeating these walls and gates. Staring at the white stone and the formidable soldiers standing before them, Cresenne found herself wondering if the Weaver had ever seen this castle.

She had been curious to see if Tavis would be welcomed as a noble, but other than an ordinary complement of guards, no one awaited them at the city gate. If the Curgh boy was surprised by this, he gave no indication of it. But though Tavis wasn’t met at the gate by the king or those who served him, he certainly was recognized. Guards glared at him, as did commoners in the streets and the city marketplace. Many of them pointed openly at the boy and a few brave souls shouted obscenities at him. The soldiers of Glyndwr offered no response, though one or two of them smirked at their companions. Tavis, to his credit, kept his eyes trained on the lane before him. Clearly he heard what was said-even riding behind him Cresenne could see his ears and neck reddening-but he didn’t say anything or change the gait of his mount.

After a few moments, Grinsa looked over at Cresenne, and said simply, “I should ride with him,” before leaving her to join Tavis.

She couldn’t say for certain whether he did this to offer comfort to the boy or out of concern for his safety, but he remained by the noble’s side until they were within the castle’s inner walls.

The king met them at the interior gate. He was dressed simply in soldier’s garb, and aside from the silver, red, and black baldric he wore on his back, there was little about him to indicate that he was a noble at all. At least, this was Cresenne’s initial impression, watching him from a distance as he offered a solemn greeting to Tavis and Grinsa. The three men spoke quietly for several moments, or rather, Grinsa did a good deal of talking while the king and Tavis listened. At last, Kearney nodded and led the three of them to where Cresenne still waited on her mount. She was holding Bryntelle, of course, and as the king approached, she pulled her baby closer to her chest.

“You know who I am,” he said, stopping just beside her.

Seeing him up close, she realized that he was younger than he had appeared. Though his hair was silver, his face was smooth and boyish, his eyes a bright, clear green. She would have liked to say something cutting, something that would make him realize that she owed no allegiance to him or his realm. But all she could manage was a simple, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You should know as well that no matter what those leading your movement have told you, I’m neither a tyrant nor a fool. If you answer my questions honestly, you’ll be treated fairly. If you refuse me, or try to deceive me in any way, your child will be taken from you and you’ll be imprisoned. Do you understand?”

Her heart pounded in her chest like ocean breakers and she was shivering despite the sun. She looked past the king to Grinsa, who stood just behind him, his gaze lowered. She wanted to rail at him, to ask him how he could choose this man and his court over Bryntelle, but once more the words wouldn’t come. After a moment’s pause, she merely nodded.

“Good,” the king said. “Lord Curgh and the gleaner tell me that you’re part of the conspiracy we’ve heard so much about, and I have no reason to doubt their word. They also tell me that you’re unlikely to flee or try something foolish. They say that you love your daughter too much to risk harming her or yourself. On their recommendation, you’ll be given a chamber near theirs and food, and you’ll be allowed to come and go as you please. Don’t do anything to make me regret the faith I’m placing in your good sense.” He turned to Grinsa and Tavis. “Eat, rest. We’ll speak later in the day.”

Both men bowed to Kearney.

“My thanks, Your Majesty,” Tavis said. “We’ll await your summons.”

The king nodded and walked back into the nearest of the tower entrances. An instant later one of the king’s soldiers stepped forward and gestured toward a different doorway.

“This way, my lord,” he said to Tavis, and even Cresenne heard the ice in his voice. The king’s men, it seemed, were no more convinced of the young lord’s innocence than were the soldiers of Glyndwr.