They had left the Court of Fates with little fan fair, even Kaden could not see them off he was so preoccupied with negotiations with the Princes for war. The only one to see them off was Jeanne, and that was from a distance as she glared at them as they left. Despite their promise to save the two she cared for she still seemed to hate them for being Regarian. Glen hoped that their success would help alleviate some of that hate; no one should live with such hatred in their blood.
As they rode out of the city and onto the dusty highway that lead south Glen signaled to Horace. They rode a little further ahead so Horace could talk without Pricilla overhearing. Glen made the sign of wisdom and question, Horace shrugging.
“Is this wise? Probably not,” Horace said. “But from my understanding it was Jeanne’s servant, Lucia, that was behind the assassination. Now that she is no longer the pretend Queen it should be safe for Pricilla to return. I know though that it will not be easy for Pricilla.”
Glen was not so sure that Lucia was no longer a threat, he has sensed when she had cut the thread from Arke. He had spent that night weeping, unable to go to Arke to ease the pain in her spirt. He did not know what it had cost her, but he was sure it was much. He did not hate Lucia for cutting the thread, he feared why she had. Still he did not have the ability to pass these fears to Horace, and he admitted he could be wrong. Maybe Lucia’s pain in torture had severed the thread, or maybe she was already dead. If she was still alive then Glen wanted to save her.
They rode along the south highway, the road no longer as well travelled as it once was. War had made merchants fear traveling to sell their goods, and the Rhodin had long since fled the Mark and Regis for Nyrgard and Daun. The followers of the Crippled One also roamed the roads, looking for sacrifices and to maintain their control on the villages that lay between the kingdoms. Glen had to use all his senses of the threads to avoid those that meant them harm, Horace and Pricilla unaware of his work. Horace knew to listen to Glen when he signaled, they should stop or ride hard, though he had no full understanding of Glen’s power he knew to listen.
When they reached the border of Regis they met with a coterie of knights, guarding the highway. They stopped when hailed and a few knights rode to meet them, three bearing lances while the fourth wore livery of a count. Glen wondered what they would make of their party, a man dressed in mail, one in Aldan robes, and a woman in travel skirts. Though all three of them were obviously Regarian they hardly looked it.
“State your business in Regis,” the count ordered, not even bothering introducing himself.
“I am Sir Horace De Modeste,” Horace answered, they had decided to state the truth when they met in Regis. “This….”
“Scum!” the count shouted cutting Horace off as he drew his sword. “You are the criminal wanted for the kidnap of the Princess and blasphemy of the gods! Capture him!”
The three knights immediately lowered their lances, horses shying away from the lowered weapons.
“Wait!” Pricilla shouted shrilly but the knights didn’t seem to hear as one lashed out with his lance. Horace expertly dodged, guiding his horse with his knees as another knight tried to unhorse him. Glen gathered his power, pulling on the aether as Bailey had recently taught him before they had separated again. Calling lightning was not an easy task of the Elder Magic, the air had to be charged already with a storm. Glen was fortunate enough that there was just enough charge to call lightning, it struck a nearby tree, the knight’s horses throwing them and fleeing back to the camp. Only the Count managed to keep his seat even after the ear splitting crack of thunder in the air.
“Sir knight!” Pricilla said loudly and he looked at her shell shocked. “I am Pricilla Drasir. These two men had saved my life from the assassin that killed my mother, the assassin sent by the then false queen. They are not guilty of the crimes you list.”
“My lady,” the count said bowing. “I am glad to see you alive, but the matter of these men’s guilts shall be determined by the king. Come, I will take you back to the king and see these men in chains.”
“No!” Pricilla said strongly. “I will not go with you if you will treat them as so. I am princess of Regis and of the Nine Kingdoms, my word is far above yours. These two men will accompany me to Care Leon where I will reward them for the stalwart duty they did for not only the High Throne but to me.”
The count set his mouth in a fine line, looking like he wished to argue, but Pricilla stared him down. These were not orders of a petty little girl trying to get her way, these were the orders of a Princess of the highest house in the Nine. The count bowed in the saddle; Pricilla had won.
“Very well milady,” the man answered. “Still I shall accompany you south…”
“No, you have a station here,” Pricilla said cutting him off. “Or will you also ignore the orders of your king?”
“No milady,” the count said shocked. “Then at least permit me to send some knights to accompany you.”
Pricilla looked ready to refuse him again, so Glen waved his hand to her. She looked at him and he shook his head, Pricilla frowning but nodding.
“Very well, but only five knights,” Pricilla said. “I will not remove more from their stations protecting Regis and my people from war.”
Glen saw the surprise on the Count’s face, but the man quickly covered it, Pricilla was proving more than he had expected it seemed.
“Very well,” he said. They were sent on their way with some supplies and five knights following them. The men did not introduce themselves and seemed to glare at Glen and Horace as they continued down the highway.
“Here milady,” Horace said handing Pricilla a bag. “Your jewels, I am sorry to have kept them.”
“I do not need them,” Pricilla said handing them back.
“You do, they will identify you as the Princess of Regis,” Horace said.
“The Aldan did not wear jewels,” Pricilla answered. “They wore their nobility in their bearing, all knew their queen when they saw her.”
“You are not a princess of Alda milady,” Horace said politely, Glen hearing his effort not to scold. “You are a Princess of Regis.”
Pricilla chewed on that a moment before taking the bag from Horace.
“I will don them before the city,” Pricilla said, and Horace nodded.
They rode on, their escort of knights a cold wall behind them. Horace slowly rode back to join them. He attempted small talk, but the knights ignored him, despite Pricilla’s words Horace had been found guilty in their eyes. But Horace kept at it, offering jokes and compliments as they rode. When they stopped to rest, he offered aid to the more heavily armored men, not in way of a servant by as a peer.
Horace treated Pricilla with a loyal formality, so Glen quickly followed suit. Glen also still regularly cast his prayers to Empyria, a habit he had never broken. Horace’s charm and Glen’s obvious piety slowly swayed their knight companions that the crimes they were accused of were obviously false and they were soon joking and talking with Horace as if he were one of their own.
Only Pricilla seemed to becoming annoyed with the formality Horace was now treating her with, she frowned and even tried to order him to stop being so formal but Horace simply said “yes milady” and continued. She looked ready to argue more when Horace pulled her aside.
“I am trying to gain these men’s trust Pricilla,” he said lowly, Glen standing between them and watching the knights as they prepared their horses for riding again. “I cannot do that if it seems like I act too harsh on you.”
“My word should be enough for them,” Pricilla said.
“Your word will never be enough,” Horace said. “And I am doing everything to make sure that I seem like I am your sworn knight and nothing more.”
“More?” Pricilla asked puzzled.
“Pricilla there will be rumors after your return that you are no longer pure…”
“But I am!” Pricilla said almost too lough and Horace shushed her.
“All the same there will be rumors,” Horace said. “As your sworn knight I will be far less likely to have done anything to you. Even then you might not escape, with Glen being a Sect we can hope that most will believe you. But some will try to suggest otherwise, to tarnish you enough that Elrik will marry you away to someone lesser or to weaken the Drasir name. You cannot give them fuel.”
Pricilla frowned angrily but they had to mount and start riding again before she could argue more. Glen realized then that though Pricilla had been a Princess of the Court of Miracles, her mother and age had protected her mostly from the dangers of the court. Her time in Alda had taught her little given the lack of intrigue in the Court of Dreams. She was to have a hard time in her return.
They rode along the southern highway, passing some merchants and staying at inns. The knights did not need persuading to keep Pricilla’s identity secret, it was far easier to guard an anonymous lady than a Princess of Regis. When they reached Cair Leone, it was as any other traveler along the dusty highway. Glen had expected to see a change in the city, Regis was still at war after all, but there was none. Cair Leone was still bustling, merchants still sold, and people still had lives.
The only change Glen could see was the beggars. Normally confined to Poor Man’s Paradise, the poorest residents of Cair Leone went unseen by most. Now there were beggars even in Odd Terminal as they rode into the city. Glen guessed even more refugees from the war had swelled the poor numbers to beyond the control of the city guards. Even as they rode into the Merchant quarter there were still beggars. They passed all as if none existed, Glen fearing he was the only one to see them until he looked at Pricilla. The Princess was frowning as they rode, Glen wishing he could ask her what she was thinking.
“Does it worry you?” Horae asked Pricilla lowly.
“Can there really be that many people that need to beg?” Pricilla answered.
“War levels many,” Horace answered. Glen wished he could argue, it was not just war that caused this. These people had been poor before the war, or just barely above. They never had the means to survive when disaster struck, so when it did, they had nothing. He had seen himself the difference of the lives from the Lords of Regis and the peasants of Regis. One man had more wealth than thousands combined, and neither knew how the other lived they were so far apart.
Even if he could speak Glen was sure his words would fall on deaf ears.
They rode up to the palace and were stopped by the guards, Horace having to formally announce Pricilla. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long, but the palace hummed with their arrival. It was not long for their horses to be led away, and servants hurrying to take their things. A servant asked if Pricilla wanted a bath drawn in her rooms, but Pricilla ignored him, marching past into the palace. Horace and Glen followed, no one stopping them. Pricilla marched through the halls to the throne room, Glen surprised at what they found there.
Elrik sat on a grand golden throne, the pelt of a black bear draped over one arm of the throne. He was opulently dress and wore his crown, looking surprised at their entry. At his side on the floor was what was left of Lucia. Glen recognized her even through the bronze mask, she wore a gray shift and a collar that was chained to Elrik’s throne. Her eyes met his and he balked at the mad merciless glint in them. Her spirit and threads drifted around her, untethered to Miread. She was drawing away from the world, having no care or love for life.
“Pricilla,” Elrik said surprised, not rising but his tone was not unwelcome. “I thought you were dead.”
“No, were it not for these two men I would be,” Pricilla said. “This is Sir Horace and Sect Glen, they saved me from the assassin that killed mother. The one sent by that woman there.”
Elrik raised an eyebrow and looked down at Lucia who cringed away from him. Glen did not see fear in her eyes however, she was only playing a part.
“Well, you see now she is paying for those crimes,” Elrik said as he shrugged. “And you are back unharmed?”
The question did not go unnoticed, Glen hearing the whispers go up among the court.
“Majesty,” Horace said as he took one knee before Elrik. “I can swear to the gods and you that Princess Pricilla is chaste and untouched, I guarded her with my life.”
More whispers but Elrik nodded pleased.
“The gods are fickle,” Elrik said. “But I trust the word of a man of steel and loyalty to me. I should reward one such as you.”
“Majesty the only reward I ask is to stay by the Princess’s side,” Horace said. “I have sworn to protect her, I must keep my oath.”
“Very well,” Elrik said. “Come Pricilla, sit by me so we can talk of where you have been.”
Pricilla nodded as a servant hurried to put a chair next to Elrik’s throne. The court went back to the conversations, many of them low to discuss this new event and gossip about where Pricilla had gone to escape the assassin. Pricilla took her seat, Horace and Glen standing to the side just within earshot. Glen noted a few servants saddle closer as well, the gossips of court would soon learn all of the coming conversation.
“So where have you been?” Elrik asked her lowly.
“Sir Horace took me to the Court of Dreams,” Pricilla answered, Elrik’s face growing dark.
“Why there?” Elrik asked.
“To be safe,” Pricilla answered. “The Queen treated me well.”
“You were hardly safe there,” Elrik said. “The army that killed father was moving into the forest.”
Glen knew it was only because Elrik was letting them, he was making no effort to stop the Orc army. And Glen doubted had Elrik known Pricilla was in the Court of Dreams that he would have changed his mind about letting the Aldan be wiped out.
“We didn’t know that then,” Pricilla said. “And we left before the war was getting too bad. We went to the Court of Fates then with an emissary that the Queen sent to request aid from the Mark.”
“And will they?” Elrik asked angrily and Pricilla nodded. Elrik slammed his fist on his throne, making Lucia wince away again. “Traitorous scum.”
“They only agreed if Alda promised to aid the Mark in overthrowing you,” Pricilla said afraid.
“How?” Elrik said. “They have no contender to the throne.”
“They do,” Pricilla said. “I saw him, he is the bastard of Terrian Alvar.”
“A bastard!” Elrik growled. “A bastard cannot inherit; his claim is far weaker than mine.”
“Some would like to see an Aldan on the High Throne once more,” Pricilla said and Elrik grumbled.
“Well they won’t,” Elrik answered. “I already have Dridia on my side, Lord Varus is in my pocket. He has gone to Xin to get me a bride from the king’s harem, so Xin will fight for us. And the Hyrians can be bought.”
“Hyria might not,” Pricilla said and Elrik glared at her. “Alora sent an emissary to them as well.”
“Alda doesn’t have the gold to buy Hyria,” Elrik scoffed. “And if Wildlough is smart he would not turn against me.”
Pricilla nodded; Glen glad she did not voice the doubt that was obvious on her face.
“But maybe I should make sure he does not,” Elrik said. “Now that you are back, what better way to make sure of Hyria’s loyalty than to join our houses?”
“You mean to marry me to the King of Hyria?” Pricilla asked quietly.
“It would be the most advantageous,” Elrik said nodding as he looked out over his court, he seemed ignorant that anyone could hear him. “You just reached marriable age after all. And he is a King, what better for a Princess of the High Throne.”
Pricilla glared at Elrik, hatred and pride on her face, Glen surprised that she felt that way. She schooled her face when Elrik turned to her, looking down to hide her displeasure.
“It would be an honor,” Pricilla said.
“Good, I’ll see about sending a message to the King then,” Elrik said. “It’s about time that wild dog came to a heel.”
“Of course,” Pricilla said and stood. “Forgive me brother, my journey has wearied me, I wish to return to my rooms.”
Elrik just nodded, waving her off uninterested. Pricilla left as Elrik leaned over his throne to casually strike Lucia several times as they left. Horace and Glen fell into step with Pricilla, Glen determined not to turn back to look at Lucia.
“Are you alright?” Horace asked Pricilla lowly as they left the throne room.
“No, how dare he decide so casually who I will marry like I’m some cow for auction!” Pricilla said angrily.
“It would have happened either way,” Horace answered. “What woman has chosen her husband?”
“The Aldan did,” Pricilla said. “All the ladies of court said they got to choose their spouse, or at least had a say. I deserve much better than Wildlough.”
“Better than one of the Kings of the Nine?” Horace said and Pricilla frowned. “Who?”
Pricilla gaped seeming off guard as she considered Horace a moment.
“You’re an oaf,” she said, her cheeks pink. Horace stared at her puzzled as she turned on her heel and continued down the hall. Horace looked at Glen, but he shrugged, not sure what Pricilla had meant. Shrugging they both followed her as she marched away down the hall. They did not get far when a lord hailed them. They turned to see Lord Lucas followed by grant Sect Ichabod.
Pricilla stopped as her uncle came up and embraced her, holding her at arm’s length.
“My how you’ve grown,” he said smiling. “I am so glad to see you alive and well.”
“It was all thanks to Sir Horace and Sect Glen,” Pricilla said smiling up at her uncle.
“Sect?” Ichabod said scandalized. “That man is condemned for blasphemy.”
“He saved my life, and I will not have you insult him,” Pricilla said strongly and both men stared at her shocked. “Sect Glen is one of the most devout followers of the Sect, you should be proud of him.”
“Pricilla…” Lord Lucas said both scandalized and about to scold but Pricilla turn on him with bright eyes.
“No Uncle you will heed me,” Pricilla said strongly. “Would you really punish one who saved my life? If you do, I will never talk to you again.”
Glen expected Lucas to argue, but instead he smiled and turned to Ichabod.
“Well it seems she is far stronger willed than even her mother,” Lucas said. “Do you think it will be enough?”
“Maybe,” Ichabod said impressed.
“Do not ignore me,” Pricilla said, almost stamping her foot like a little girl. Horace cleared his throat and she turned to him angrily. He simply tipped his head to the side with a look he reserved for when she was being the pettiest. Pricilla noticed and cooled her tempter, looking back at her Uncle and Ichabod. “Will you heed my request?” She asked a little more calmly.
“Well Sect Ichabod?” Lucas asked looking at Ichabod. The man frowned and looked at Glen.
“You swear servitude to the Sect Glen De Modeste?” Ichabod said. Glen shook his head and Ichabod glowered. Glen made the sign of Empyria and the gods, then the sign of oath. He was glad to see Ichabod chastised and the man nodded. “Of course, you swear then loyalty and love for the gods?”
Glen nodded making the sign of deep love and loyalty.
“My brother of course cannot speak,” Horace said. “I hope this is enough.”
“It is,” Ichabod said sounding tired. “At these times I believe we no longer have to liberty of turning against our own.”
“That is why we need you Pricilla,” Lucas said. “Come, you must be tired, how about a meal and some tea.”
Pricilla nodded relieved as her Uncle lead her away to a private room. Glen and Horace followed them in, neither Lucas or Ichabod arguing to their presence. Servants came in and started to set out a meal, rich dishes of meat, pastry, cheese, and fruits. Glen and Horace sat to Pricilla’s left, Ichabod and Lucas to her right. Glen looked up suddenly at one of the servants and met the dead eyes of the assassin that Lucia had employed to kill Pricilla. The man set down the dish he carried, not even blinking as Glen recognized him.
Horace turned and tensed as well but Glen messaged him to be calm. Pricilla did not react; she had never recovered her memories of the attack so did not recognize the man. He stepped back and took his place along the wall with another servant, unnoticed by everyone but Horace and Glen. Determined not to draw attention Glen looked away from the assassin to watch what transpired at the table, keeping in mind unfriendly ears were now watching.
“So, tell us where you have been all this time?” Lucas asked, sounding very much the concerned uncle. Pricilla launched into her story of thinking she had been kidnapped to their journey to Alma, to her stay at the Court of Dreams, and then the revelation of Xavier the last Aldan King’s bastard, and then their journey to Warren. Glen almost stopped her, worried she would reveal their oath to Jeanne, but Pricilla did not mention it.
Lucas and Ichabod absorbed her story with stone faces, asking little and keeping silent. When Pricilla finished, they sat in silence a moment before Horace dared venture to speak.
“And what has transpired here in the Court of Miracles?” Horace asked. “We’ve heard that Elrik refuses to lend aid to Alda and turn Lir back to its borders.”
“He has,” Lucas said sounding tired. “Much against our wishes we assure you. This Loe who claims to be Emperor is not good for any of us and should Alda fall the Kingdoms will be so imbalanced it will be even harder to crush this cancer before it spreads to our borders.”
“But surely Elrik must be eager to fight,” Horace said. “He has always been blood-thirsty.”
“He would rather see Alda fall,” Lucas answered. “And believed that after the fall of Alda the Lirian forces will be so weakened by the effort it will be easy to defeat them.”
“That is non-sense,” Horace said horrified. “I’ve seen the Aldan forces, they are fighting to the women and children, the only reason they hold is because they fight in the forests that have been their homes for centuries. To the Orc armies they are little more than a kernel caught in their teeth.”
“So, I’ve told Elrik for months,” Lucas said. “He will not listen.”
“I fear the false god may have gotten to him,” Ichabod said gravely, and Glen looked at him shocked. “He has turned away from the advice and counsel of the Sect and the Gods.”
Glen waved his hands and Ichabod looked to him, he made the sign of knowledge, false, and gods.
“You have knowledge of the false god?” Ichabod said puzzled and a little wary.
“My brother has told me that it is an enemy of the Phay,” Horace said. “It is a dark spirit that pretends to be a god and seeks to destroy all of the kin of the Phay.”
“The Phay…” Ichabod said frowning, he was not pleased. Glen quickly made the sign of good, true, and friends. “The Phay are blasphemy that some suggest the gods were modeled after them,” Ichabod said watching Glen closely. “What about you?”
Glen made the sign of spirit, shook his head, then the sign of gods.
“They are spirits not gods?” Ichabod said. “What would be the difference?”
Glen made the sign of life and long time, then gods with the sign of eternity.
“So, the gods live forever when the Phay do not?” Ichabod said. Glen nodded and made the sign of death. “The Phay can die,” Ichabod said. Glen nodded and then signed spirits, shook his head, and made the sign of blasphemy. He made the sign of blasphemy, gods and spirits, and rumor. This time Horace interpreted his sign.
“I believe he means that the Phay are not blasphemy,” Horace said. “The blasphemy is saying that the gods are based on the Phay. Which I’m sure he doesn’t believe.”
Glen nodded and Ichabod seem to digest this for a bit.
“I agree, the suggestion is blasphemy,” Ichabod said. “Were that I could have a real conversation with you Sect Glen on the nature of these beliefs. But we cannot, so I will wait for a writing of yours on this subject. For now, is there anything more we need to know about the false god?”
Glen made the sign of cripple and singular.
“His name is the Crippled One?” Ichabod said intrigued. “Why?”
Glen held up his hands helpless, unable to explain naming or how such names came to be with only his hands.
“Another writing then,” Ichabod said sighing. “Very well, then can you tell me how it has ensorcelled our king?”
Glen though of how to answer, the Crippled One had not used any power to control Elrik, but he knew Lucia had in some way manipulated Elrik to. Though she was now a creature of the Crippled One, he wasn’t sure when the change had taken place. As far as he could see Elrik’s spirit was free of the Crippled One’s touch, it was most likely Elrik was acting on his own bad decisions. So, he decided to answer with as much truth he could.
He signed free, shook his head, and then signed darkness.
“He has not been controlled by the Crippled One?” Ichabod said and Glen nodded.
“Then there is a chance we can redeem him back to the gods,” Lucas said. Glen almost winced, he was unsure they could convince Elrik to listen. “That is what we need you for Pricilla. We need Elrik to marry and produce and heir, once he has, we can attack the Lirian army and win back Lir.”
“You are his sister,” Ichabod said, and Pricilla made a face.
“He won’t listen to me,” Pricilla said. “He’d never listen to me.”
“Try,” Lucas said. “And keep trying, we need you to do this Pricilla.”
She looked from her uncle to Ichabod frowning.
“He does not listen to either of you?” Pricilla asked.
“His only advisor he listens to now is Lord Varus Lonelove,” Lucas said. “He has fortunately left court to get one of the Princesses of Xin to be Elrik’s bride. We cannot have a Xinian queen, we need a Regarian Queen. With how Elrik has been, taxes and bullying, many of the Regarian lords are discontent. He has shunned the Sect as well which has only made matters worse. He is Regis’s King as well as the High King, if he loses Regis, he loses his base and the High Throne will crumble. If he wants to keep his throne, he will need to mollify the Regarian lords, to do that he needs a good Regarian wife.”
Pricilla’s mouth puckered; she knew not to ask if they had told Elrik this. He had been told and he ignored their advice, how could Pricilla even manage?
“I will try,” she answered though Glen wasn’t sure what she was thinking.
“Thank you,” Ichabod said relieved. He opened his mouth, seeming to about to ask her how she was going to convince Elrik but Pricilla spoke first.
“I am tired now, I’ve had a trying journey here,” Pricilla said standing. “I wish to retire now.”
“Yes of course,” Lucas said standing as well. “Your rooms should be ready now.”
Pricilla nodded and left, going out into the halls and back to the women’s wing. Here where there used to be knights guarding there were none, Glen realized the women’s wing was now empty, there were no more women of the royal family but Pricilla. They arrived at Pricilla’s rooms to find everything freshly dusted with a meal laid out before the fire. She let Glen and Horace follow her in, locking the door behind them.
“Are we safe to speak now?” Horace asked and Pricilla nodded. “How do you plan to convince Elrik to marry? Or free Lucia and Nicodemus?”
“I don’t plan on convincing my brother of anything,” Pricilla said. “I only agreed because it was all I could do. It would be easier to convince him to go to battle, maybe then he’ll die and I can take the throne.
“As for Lucia and Nicodemus I was hoping you two could devise a plan, one that does not put suspicion on me.”
Glen’s mind spun, surprised at Pricilla.
“You plan on taking the throne?” Horace said shocked.
“Not the High Throne,” Pricilla said. “The Regarian one, Xavier can have the High Throne.”
“Regis has never had a single Queen,” Horace said. “And will the other Regarian lords really be alright with returning the High Throne to Alda?”
“I’m not sure,” Pricilla said as she sighed and stared at the fire. “I’m not sure how I will get the throne either. I just know that this course is the best for Regis right now. And I plan to do it.”
Glen realized then Pricilla had come to this decision on her own, sometime in the journey ago. In her too he also saw a person he would now be proud to call Queen, he only hoped it would be enough. Horace seemed to notice the same as he nodded.
“You’ve grown,” he said, and she looked at him. She blushed and nodded, seeming pleased. “Well then me and Glen will see about freeing Nicodemus and Lucia, perhaps we might also find a way to win you a throne.”
Pricilla smiled at him and it was Horace’s turn to blush a look away. Glen sighed and signed for attention, feeling bad about getting between the two. Horace looked at him and Glen signed, mask, shook his head, and darkness.
“Lucia?” Horace said and Glen nodded. “You don’t think we should rescue her?”
Glen made the sign of ability and shook his head.
“You don’t think we can rescue her,” Horace said.
“Why not?” Pricilla asked.
Glen signed darkness and false god.
“The Crippled One?” Horace asked and Glen nodded. “He has her now?” Glen nodded again.
“What do we do then?” Pricilla asked. “We swore we would save her.”
“I don’t believe we can,” Horace said. “I think Jeanne will be content with Nicodemus, he is her lover.”
“She seemed to care about her servant too,” Pricilla argued.
“I think if we free her now, she wouldn’t come with us anyways,” Horace said.
“We should still try,” Pricilla said.
Glen sighed again and signed he would try, which Horace conveyed to Pricilla.
“You should rest now Pricilla,” Horace said. “We’ll go about to see if we can save Lucia and Nicodemus.”
Glen shook his head and signed protect.
“I should stay here and guard Pricilla?” Horace said and Glen nodded. “Glen it is dangerous for you to go about court alone.”
Glen shook his head and signed power, pointing to himself. Horace sighed and looked from Pricilla to Glen.
“Very well,” Horace said. “Rest will milady, I will be outside your doors guarding you.”
“Thank you,” Pricilla said, and Glen and Horace left. Before Glen left, he walked in front of Pricilla’s doors and windows, setting wards. Pricilla and Horace did not question what he was doing, he had done it a lot on their travels and seemed to either know what he did or did not want to question him. His wards done Glen turned to leave.
“Be careful,” Horace said standing outside Pricilla’s door. Glen nodded and left, going down the halls. He passed servants and plenty of other nobles, but Glen went by unnoticed by most. He caught a few words here or there of gossip and was unsurprised to find most of it about the nobles of Regis and their daily lives rather than about war. There was no mention of Elrik’s search for a wife either, but Glen suspected the nobles were afraid of gossiping about their king. No, here everyone seemed to be ignoring the world at large and was only concerned with their own selfish interests.
Glen went to the throne room, glad to find Elrik had left, only a few courtiers and guards standing around. Lucia was alone, chained to Elrik’s throne like a forgotten dog. Her eyes burned though as Glen went up to her and knelt in front of her.
“I knew you would come,” Lucia said coldly. “Come to beg me back for that bitch?”
Glen was surprised to hear Lucia call her former mistress so. Though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, Jeanne had caused Lucia nothing but pain.
“No,” Lucia growled angrily, seeing his surprise. “The weaver.”
Glen nodded and made the sign of Iris.
“I am no one’s puppet,” Lucia said, though she didn’t understand Glen’s sign. Glen raised an eyebrow at that.
“I was Jeanne’s shield, her protector,” Lucia said. “I willingly gave what I did to serve her, she would have done the same for me.”
Glen pointed to her chains and mimed breaking.
“Jeanne sent you to free me?” Lucia asked and Glen nodded. “Well she’s too late for that. I’m not going back to be her pity pet.”
Glen could not read her face behind the mask, but somehow, he realized she was smirking at him; like a cat that knows it cornered a mouse yet the mouse did not know. He realized then why the assassin was still here, and that Lucia planned something. Glen nodded looking away to stand up and hide his realization. Lucia said nothing as he left, but he felt her eyes burning into his back as he left.
He wasn’t sure how much time they had, but he doubted it was much. He needed to convince Pricilla to leave, the how of that though eluded him. Whatever Lucia planned Glen doubted it planned for Pricilla to be in the picture. But first he still needed to keep his word to Lucia.
He found Nicodemus’ rooms by the threads in the air, and the guards that stood outside. His rooms were still by the library, he was still a lord after all. He feared the guards would not let him past, but they didn’t even question him as they let him in. It seemed they thought little of their captive and of Glen. Inside the room was dark, Glen supposed Nicodemus no longer had need of candles or light. He moved carefully through the room to a desk where he could just make out Nicodemus slumped over some books.
“I have tried to read for some time by touch,” he said as Glen stood over him. “Did you know the Aldan were kind enough to pen some books in such a way one without sight could read? Neither did I, though slow it might be it is more than I could ask for.”
Glen felt more than pity for Nicodemus, he himself having suffered mutilation could sympathize with another. He put a hand on Nicodemus’ shoulder, unable to communicate with a blind man.
“Thank you,” Nicodemus said. “I suppose you more than anyone can understand me. I recognized you by scent funnily enough, and the sound of your steps. I sadly do not have any reports for you of the whereabouts of the song, I am sorry you came here for nothing.”
Glen patted his shoulder earnestly, pulling on Nicodemus’ sleeve to get him to stand.
“That is not why you are here?” Nicodemus said surprised. “But what else would cause you to take such a risk as to come here?” Glen stopped puzzled, then realized he meant Lucia. He drew a question mark on Nicodemus’ shoulder and Nicodemus hung his head. “Ah, so you do not know. I am surprised not everyone in the palace knows of it, the servants have been talking of little else. Though I suppose they are less guarded around me, but I’m blind not deaf. I’ve heard of the coupe, it is hard for me to track the days, but I believe it to happen tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
Glen felt ice run down his spine and tugged more urgently on Nicodemus’ sleeve.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Nicodemus said. “I’ll welcome death when it comes, only one will mourn me.”
Glen wanted to shake him and decided that he would since it seemed the only way to communicate with Nicodemus. Grabbing him by the collar Glen shook Nicodemus, not too hard, but hard enough heard the other man’s teeth knock together. He stopped, gasping for breath, waiting for Nicodemus to respond.
“Well,” Nicodemus said rattled. “I admit I did not expect that, nor for it to work. Very well, lead the way.”
Relieved Glen took Nicodemus’ arm and started to lead him out of his room. They left easily the two guards now asleep at their post. It had been easy to lull their minds to sleep with the Elder Magic given how bored and lax they already were. Glen lead Nicodemus back to the women’s hall, none of the servants or lords they passed bothered to pay them any mind. There still were no guards at the women’s hall given it was empty of any of the royal family. At Pricilla’s door however there was no one, Glen was sure Horace would have been waiting outside.
He peeked into the rooms to find them empty, Pricilla was not in her rooms. He told Nicodemus, spelling out the words by writing on his palm.
“The main hall then,” Nicodemus said. “There is probably a feast to celebrate her return and she will be there.”
Glen nodded and lead Nicodemus back through the halls to the main hall. He heard the sounds of music and merrymaking from down the hall, arriving to find a full feast going on. It wasn’t hard to find Pricilla at the head table with Elrik and Lucia still chained to Elrik’s throne. But they were not the ones Glen was worried about. He scanned the crowds, looking for the assassin, but it was impossible to spot the servant in the crowd of people.
“Elrik won’t listen to us if we warn him,” Nicodemus said as Glen started to lead him through the crowd. Glen nodded but part of him feared Nicodemus didn’t even want to warn Elrik or stop what was going to happen. He fortunately found Horace standing to the side of the high table, still in his mail and alert.
“You brought him here?” Horace said surprised. Glen made the sign of betrayal and danger.
“Lucia is planning a coup,” Nicodemus said. “Tonight, or tomorrow. Either way we should flee now.”
Horace frowned, obviously believing them but also seeing the problem of getting Pricilla out of danger. Glen had an idea then and signed waiting and patience.
“Wait?” Horace said startled. “We should just wait for the coup to happen?”
Glen nodded and then signed insight.
“You have a plan?” Horace asked. “Can you tell me?”
Glen shook his head, unable to convey the plan in his limited range of communication.
“Then let’s wait,” Nicodemus said unconcerned. “Seems our best option, maybe it won’t even happen tonight.”
Glen doubted it, this was a prime opportunity to have the coup. Most of the nobles were now gathered in one place, and at their ease with wine and food. If had been planned for the next night, it would be little trouble to change plans to tonight. Glen turned all his attention to the crowd, looking through the servants for the assassin. He would be the one to watch, Lucia chained as she was would not start the coup, the assassin would make the first move. He soon realized looking with his eyes would not work, there were just too many people and the assassin would be working not to be seen.
Instead Glen closed his eyes, reaching for the aether. It took little to send his spirit just on the brink of entering the lines, feeling the threads of the future and fates around him. He felt them humming with tension, an event of great import was coming, he should have checked the threads long ago before they even arrived. Realizing his lack of foresight would not save him, he concentrated hard on the threads, trying to read what was about to happen.
He found it, a knot of the threads, thousands of threads ending suddenly after the knot. Glen carefully felt out the threads, looking for the cause of the knot. He found a blood red thread linked them all and at the same time was the cause of the sudden severing that was to come. Glen opened his eyes to see the holder of the thread was Lucia. She was watching him, her face unreadable under her mask but Glen knew then they were too late.
Shouts rose up from the other side of the hall, knights and guards milling about. Elrik heard the commotion and stood, his hand dropping to his sword. A knight came pushing through the throng of courtiers, questions and shouts following him.
“Silence!” Elrik barked though it did little for the din of the room. “What is it?” He asked the knight as he strode up.
“A mob majesty,” the knight answered with a quick bow. “They have risen up from Poor Man’s Paradise, they have taken the merchant’s quarter and move for the palace.”
“Well stop them,” Elrik said sounding frustrated. “You are knights of the Gods armed with swords. How could a lowly mob hope to take the palace?”
“The gates have been opened for them by the merchants,” the knight answered, Glen wondered why the man did not remove his helm, something was not right about him. “We fear it is treachery.”
“Treachery!” Elrik said looking wildly about the court. “Which of you whore sons dare defy my rule?” Elrik shouted glaring around the room. “Speak!”
Elrik turned to see Lucia standing behind him, her chains in her hands.
“You?” Elrik scoffed and then laughed. “Some measly whore peasant?”
“That is High Queen Lucia of the Mask to you,” Lucia said calmly. “Slayer of the last High King of the Nine.”
Elrik sneered as he drew his sword, but Lucia laughed and raised her chain. With a swift yank she broke her chain as easily as if it were a length of thread. Elrik swung at Lucia who dodged aside with ease. Glen saw the knight move then as Elrik swung again at Lucia who dodged his wild swing again. The knight came up not to the defense of Elrik, but to drive a gauntleted fist into his unprotected side.
Elrik cried out in pain as the fist slammed into his kidney, driving him to his knees. Elrik gasped and whirled around to look up as the knight removed his helm, revealing the assassin.
“Wha,” Elrik gasped, reaching for breath.
“Meet my loyal dog,” Lucia said smoothly. “He kills for me, though it will not be his pleasure of killing you.”
“Guards,” Elrik croaked. “Guards!” He called louder. Glen looked up and realized then that the commotion they had seen at the other end of the hall was actually the tail end of a battle, men armed with swords and dressed as normal workers or as the Bandaged Brothers had already moved into the hall. They nobles were all being pushed into the center of the room, men and women calling out in fear as they were gathered.
“No one is listening,” Lucia said merrily. “The only ones here are those who listen to me.”
“Impossible,” Elrik growled looking up at Lucia. “You whore!”
Lucia only held out her hand and the assassin put his sword in her hand.
“Call me what you will majesty,” Lucia said mockingly. “I will call you dead.”
Elrik tried to stand but the assassin kicked him in the groin. Elrik fell moaning and Lucia reached down to pull him up by his hair.
“Long live the king!” Lucia cried out and brought the sword down in a wide swing. It was a sharp blade, taking Elrik’s head off in one clean swipe, drenching Lucia in a splatter of blood. She raised up Elrik’s head and the mob cheered and roared.
“Kill them all!” Lucia cried out and swords fell. The room erupted into chaos as the armed men fell onto the courtiers of the Court of Miracles, swords flashing and blood spilling. Glen felt and hand on his arm and he jumped turning to see Horace behind him. He had Pricilla clinging to his other arm, Nicodemus clutching her other arm.
“What are you waiting for!” Horace hissed.
Glen nodded and took his hand, calling on the aether. Stepping sideways with so many people was hard, but Glen put all his desperation and will into the feat. He led the small party towards a servant’s hall, several servants huddling in fear behind some tapestries. Glen dared not look at their scared faces, it was all he could do to hide the three people with him, he could not save them.
The servant passage was deserted until they reached a wider corridor, Glen stopping just before he ran into a Bandaged Brother standing guard. Before he could say anything, Horace stepped forward, he sword sliding free of his sheath silently. Horace stabbed the man in the back, covering his mouth as he felt soundlessly to the floor. Sword still drawn Horace looked quickly around before signaling them on, taking Glen’s hand again.
They went through the palace, hearing screams and cries and doing nothing to aid those who cried for aid. Glen heard Pricilla weeping which he was glad she made effort to muffle as they wound through the halls. They at last reached the stables only to find them engulfed in flames.
“Where to now?” Horace asked, only his eyes betraying his fear. Glen felt the threads and found a familiar one not far away. He led the way into the gardens, there finding Puzzle and several other horses gathered. All the horses were afraid, the whites of their eyes visible in the ruddy glow from the blazing stables, except Puzzle who stood ready.
“Knew you would come,” Puzzle said in the beast speech. Glen nodded, wishing he could thank the little horse, he had saved the horses here. They mounted quickly, bareback since the horses had fled without tack, Horace scattering the rest of the horses easily before them. In a stampede of horses, they hit the gate of the Palace. The gate itself was open, several men standing guard there. As they rode under the gate Glen glimpsed bodies already hanging from the gates. Ignoring them he bent over Puzzle’s neck, arrows flying by.
They rode free of the gate but did not stop, Glen doubted any of them would be able to stop the horses now that they were given their heads to the fear that drove them. It was a mad dash through the city, Glen catching glimpses of the city. People ran about the streets, screams, and cries a cacophony of terror as buildings burned and mobs ran wild killing and taking what they pleased. As they neared the edge of the city the more crowded the streets became, people were fleeing the city. But none dared standing in the way of the horses, some did not get out of the way in time, Glen hiding his face from the sight of innocent people being run down.
Then they were free of the city, hitting the open road leading south. They were far ahead of others that were fleeing shortly, and hopefully pursuit as well. They did not stop until the horses slowed at last, coming to rest in an open moon lit field. Glen raised a prayer to Lun in gratitude, has hands shaking over the prayer signs.
They dismounted, the horses shaking and covered in a foamy sweat.
“What now?” Horace said, his sword still drawn. Glen bent and picked a handful of grass and motioned to the horses. “See to the horses? Glen Cair Leone just fell!”
Glen made the sign of savior and Horace grimaced. He nodded and helped Glen rub down all the horses as they grazed. Pricilla and Nicodemus sat together saying nothing, Pricilla silently weeping. Once their task was done Glen and Horace joined them.
“So, Regis falls,” Nicodemus said.
“No,” Pricilla said dashing away her tears. “It does not. I am Queen now, and I will not see my kingdom fall.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Nicodemus asked.
“By force,” Pricilla said. “We ride for Menfer, the Sect will aid us.”
“We rest first,” Horace said. “These horses will take us nowhere as they are now.”
Glen wondered if Pricilla would succeed, his mind going to the threads seeking answers but only finding them in a knot still. They lay to rest and Glen let his spirit wander. The lines were astir with the events of the night, Glen using the chaos of the aether to travel unnoticed to Astolat. He found Arke bent over her mirror still, knotting frantically at the tapestry she wove. He sat next to her marveling at her beauty though she never turned to look at him.
“Will Pricilla win?” Glen asked.
“I see her in a crown, and in a grave,” Arke answered. “The future is still unclear. But you should leave her and your brother all the same.”
“The song is about to be found,” Arke answered. “Eileen reborn is near, you must go where you are needed.”
“To the Battle of the Fells,” Arke answered.
“Is it the final battle?” Glen asked.
“There will be two great battles,” Arke answered. “One in Daun in the Battle of Troll Pastures, the other in Alda in a place that will become known as the Fells of Sorrow. Follow the threads, you will find it.”
“I will,” Glen said but did not rise to leave. “You will march then with your kin?”
Arke did not answer and Glen realized her hands had stopped on her weaving.
“I cannot turn away from my mirror,” Arke said and Glen felt a cold hand grip his guts. He reached out and cupped her face, Arke leaning towards his hand as if it were the only warmth she had ever felt.
“I will find a way to free you,” Glen swore and Arke shuddered, there was power in his oath in Astolat. He felt her tears as they slid from her eyes, he knew she wished to argue but at the same time her love could win against her concern.
“Go,” she said thickly. “You have a long road ahead.”
Glen nodded and stopped to kiss her hair before he rose and walked away into the waking world. Dew was thick on the grass as he rose, Pricilla and Nicodemus asleep under the shelter of a rowan tree. Horace stood over them, but Glen noticed he was dozing on his feet, a blessing no doubt of Arke. Glen did not have the time or heart for a farewell to his brother. He looked at him one last time before going to one of the horses, mounting and riding away into the mists of morning without a glance back.
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
stormborns
snowghoul