Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

The fact that Lord Gregory was already thinking about such things filled Mikahl’s mind with some comfort, but the idea that he might have to go back into Westland alone to rescue Princess Rosa was daunting at best. He began stealing his resolve to do what Lord Gregory felt must be done. He wasn’t sure what he felt emotionally for the Princess, but he was certain that he didn’t want her to come to harm. The semi-private carriage ride they had taken the day after the introductory feast in Xwarda had revealed a lot about her that he liked. Once they were alone, her pretext of formality had fallen away and they had spoken as Rosa and Mikahl, not the High King and the Princess of Seaward. Deep in his heart he’d known as soon as he’d found out that she’d been taken that he would go after her. At least now he wouldn’t be doing it blindly.

He trained with Ironspike each morning they were at sea. The symphony of the sword was a soothing and welcome distraction from the uneasy worries that clouded his mind. Not only did the sound comfort him, it revealed aspects of its own power that he hadn’t yet perceived. Each session gave him a little more understanding of Ironspike’s nature, and revealed ways that he might use it better. By the time they reached the Isle of Salazar he had done more than resign himself to the fact that he had to go into the Dragon Queen’s castle alone to save the Princess. He found he was looking forward to it. If he could find out exactly where Rosa was being held, then Mikahl thought he could actually save her.

Ironspike was far more than just a magical weapon, Mikahl figured out. It was a tool, and the skills he was learning presented endless possibilities and filled him with confidence. Tricking, or even killing Queen Shaella while he was in Westland was a possibility as well. After all, it’s not like she still had a dragon to defend her.

When the ship docked in a fishing village called Rydia, only King Mikahl, Maxwell Tyne, and Lord Gregory left the ship. They learned that the Westland settlement was a bit further south down the coast, and forced the feverish, yet recovering Captain to land them there. The refugee settlement was called Balton, named after the last king that had ruled Westland honorably.

Just stepping onto the shore filled Mikahl with pride. Though he hadn’t known King Balton as his father, he had loved him as a king. Mikahl noticed that Lord Gregory was trembling. If Lady Trella wasn’t here, then he didn’t know where else to look for her.

“Come on, M’ lord,” Mikahl put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go find your lady.”

An inn called the Lost Lion seemed the place to start their search. The two Westlanders made their way there, both noticing the stares and awed glances they were getting as they passed through the growing town. The place reminded Mikahl of Portsmouth, one of Westland’s greatest cities, as it might have been a few hundred years ago. Proud, sturdy, and clean, the settlement of Balton was small, but every bit of it spoke of determination, pride, and persistence.

Lord Gregory sat on the stoop of the inn, too nervous to go inside. Mikahl strode into the common room not knowing what to expect and was caught off guard by the sharp voiced woman standing at the bar.

“About time you came around,” Lady Zasha said with a bit of heat in her tone. “Has the mighty High King returned to his people?”

Mikahl was speechless. Lady Zasha was extremely pregnant and looking as beautiful as ever, but he couldn’t tell if she was really angry with him or not until she scowled his way. He was saved by a most welcome sound.

“Oh Mikahl,” Lady Trella burst out as she charged from the kitchen doors over to him. She hugged him fiercely with tears running down her face. “Oh, if my Lord might have lived to see you come into your own.”

Mikahl realized then that she didn’t know her husband had survived. “Come, m’lady,” he smiled down to her, and took her by the hand.

He was almost as surprised as she was at what awaited them outside the inn. A few hundred people had gathered in the street, and as Lady Trella and Lord Gregory embraced in a joyous torrent of tears, the crowd bowed to their true king.

“All hail King Mikahl,” one of them said.

“Hail King Mikahl,” the others shouted back.

From the doorway behind him, Mikahl heard Lady Zasha say, “I suppose that since you brought Lord Gregory back from the dead you’re off the hook.”

“If anyone can get Rosa out of Westland it’s the High King,” Queen Willa said in a vain attempt to comfort Queen Rachel. Princess Rosa was Rachel’s only child and had been the sole subject of conversation since she’d arrived in Xwarda.

“Am I a prisoner here too?” Queen Rachel asked through tear-filled eyes. “Oh, how the gods punish us for our folly,” she blurted. Then she began sobbing again.

“No, Rachel,” Willa gave an exasperated huff. “Your cousin is being held for a more recent treachery than last autumn’s attack on my people. As I told you, Broderick recently consorted with the Dakaneese and the Westlanders to betray the High King. These are the very same Westlanders that kidnapped your daughter, I might add. Nevertheless, Dreg was killed, and quite a few of Jarrek’s people were freed. I sent them as many men as I could spare, and King Mikahl has requested that you do the same. I think that, since he has gone off into Westland to find your daughter, you should comply.”

Queen Willa wasn’t sure that Rosa was the reason why Mikahl had snuck into Westland, but she made it sound that way. Queen Rachel came from Seaward as soon as she heard Broderick was a prisoner. She’d come seeking information, a terrified mother whose daughter had been taken for motives beyond her reckoning. Queen Willa gave her a shoulder to cry on, and for the last two days had come to realize that the treachery of last year was more of Broderick’s design than Rachel’s.

General Spyra hadn’t known Mikahl’s motives either. The General’s message made it sound like he wasn’t sure where Mikahl had actually disappeared to. Mikahl’s message to Willa, though, had made his destination, if not his motives, clearer.

“How many men?” Rachel sobbed. “Would five thousand be enough?”

Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Willa. “I think five thousand well armed, and well provisioned men would show the High King that his efforts to save your daughter are greatly appreciated.”

“Where should I send them? Under whose command?”

“To King Jarrek in Wildermont,” Willa answered as she thought of something that made the corners of her mouth turn up into a devilish smile. “Have them march right through northern Dakahn to Seareach. That’s where they will be needed the most.”

“Through Dakahn?” Rachel’s sobbing ceased. “But that’s… that’s…”

“This is what Ra’Gren needs to see. He needs to see firsthand our support for Wildermont. The sell-sword army he is putting together to defend the mines won’t dare attack five thousand me-”

A sharp knock at the door of the sitting chamber interrupted Willa’s words. She excused herself, wondering what was so urgent that someone would disturb her private meeting. Her advisors all knew the importance of this discussion.

As her hand moved toward the polished brass handle of the heavy wooden door, the knock sounded again. As she thought, it was Dugak. Only a dwarf’s knock came from that low.

“What is it?” she asked rather sharply as she yanked open the door.

Starkle, the little blue pixie, fluttered around the excited dwarf’s head. Obviously something extreme was happening. Still, Willa held out a hand to stop Dugak from coming in. Once the door was pulled shut behind her, she motioned for him to speak.