Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3) (4 page)

Hollin threw the first punch.  It landed solid and knocked the man back a step, but it did not stun him.  The large man gave a berserker shout and rushed at Hollin, launching himself at the last moment.  He struck Hollin chest to chest, and they both fall back into a sea of other men.  Kern jumped into the fray to pull the larger Thellian off Hollin, but those around did not want Kern involved, so they tried to restrain him.  That was when Kern started throwing his own punches.

Elissa buried her head in her hands started to cry.  She hated herself for it, but it was the only thing that she could do.  She was too weak to help and she did not have the power to stop the Thellians.  She could hear Melanie wailing next to her and that’s what made her stop.  She was a queen and she was stronger than Melanie.  She would not just break down and cry when she got scared.  With a deep breath, she stopped the tears and stood up.

Toknon had left the table and was in the middle of the melee, but he was not adding to it, he was trying to stop it.  He was throwing his own men off Kern and Hollin.  One man actually took a reactive swing at the prince and Toknon responded with a direct closed fist strike to the man’s jaw.  The man dropped and did not move.  Only seconds later, the armed guards of the castle joined the prince to help bring peace.  But Kern and Hollin were still swinging, even at the prince and the armed guards.  Once they realized they were no longer being attacked, they stopped throwing punches.  But they did not stop their mouths. They kept those going, yelling at everyone around them, and challenging them to a fight.

Elissa rose, all tears and silly emotions gone.  Her anger showed as she shouted as loud as she could, “Enough!  Kern and Hollin!  You will stop this!”

Kern shrugged away from someone who was trying to hold him back.  He turned and faced the queen, dropping to a knee.  “Your Majesty, I am sorry.” 

Hollin followed suit and dropped to a knee as well.  “As am I, Your Majesty.”

Elissa turned to the prince, who had a wide smile on his face.  “And why are you smiling?”

“It has been some time since I have had a good fight.  It was good to get in a few punches!”

“We have overstayed our welcome,” Elissa said.

The smile on the prince’s face faded.  “Oh?  You just arrived!  Come, now, our men were just getting to know one another!”

“Your men insulted my queen,” Hollin growled.  As he stood, an armed Thellian put a hand on his shoulder.  He shook himself out of the grasp and said, “And keep your hands off me!”

“No,” Elissa said to Toknon.  “We will leave first thing in the morning.”

The prince stepped over to Elissa and spoke in a soft voice.  “The men, they were having fun.  Yes, they may have gone too far.  But it is time for our people to stop fighting one another and become friends.  It will not be easy.  I know, because it is hard for me to look at your beauty and think that you were once my enemy.”

“Oh…” Elissa was stunned by his words.

“Please, Queen Elissa, I beg of you to stay.  This will not be the last fight between our people.  There will be more, but we will get past each one, and soon enough we will be the best of friends.  We must both be strong and vigilant to know that peace is what is best for our kingdoms.  But it will take time and we cannot give up when it becomes hard.”

Queen Elissa looked around, fully overwhelmed by the moment.  For every moment that she felt strong and confident, there were times were she felt weak and alone and this was one of those times.  She found herself shaky and lightheaded.  Between him calling her beautiful, and the anger that she saw still existed between their two peoples, her mind was a rush of emotions.  She knew that her father wouldn’t have cried in this moment, but that was all that she wanted to do.  But she managed to keep the tears back.  She was a queen, not a spoiled princess.

“My lady, I believe it is time for you to retire,” Kimmie said softly.  She had come up from behind her and spoke so that only the queen and the prince could hear.  “Prince Toknon, if you would have us escorted to our chambers?”

“Yes, of course,” the prince said.  “You must truly be exhausted from your travels.  But please do not make a decision to leave, yet.  I would like to at least show you our city in the morning.”

“The travel has indeed worn us down, I am afraid,” Elissa said.  “It has made us all a bit anxious and quick tempered.  I am sure a good night’s sleep will do wonders.”

Toknon motioned for nearby pages to attend to the queen and her party.  “Sleep well, Queen Elissa.  And upon the morrow, I will show you our fair city.”

***

“They traveled light,” a voice said in rough Commoner.

Toknon looked around to be sure that they were still alone.  The festivities had broken up soon after the queen and her party were led to their sleeping chambers.  Servants had come to clean up while the partygoers had stumbled off to their own chambers.  The man who stood in the shadows before him would not meet with him until the castle had gone to sleep, so the prince had to wait for the servants to complete their jobs.  With just embers burning in the great fire pit, the great hall was darkened so that that corners were easy hiding places.

“Karmon is a small kingdom,” Toknon said.  “They are not opulent or extravagant in anything that they do.  I would have expected no less.”

“You admire them?  Were they not your sworn enemy just a half year ago?”

With an anger that exploded from nowhere, the prince grabbed the man’s wool cloak and pulled him from the shadows and slammed him up against the stone wall.  The chainmail armor and sword short clinked loudly in the silent darkness.  “Do not presume to know anything.  Our countries are not at war, Commander Roland.  Peace treaties have been signed.  Commerce between our nations has begun.  We may never be friends, but we will be friendly.”

“And yet, here I am,” Roland said.  The commander of several companies of centurions from the northern armies, he was an older man with curly dark hair and graying temples.  His face was tanned from years of sun and weather.  As his lips turned into a smile, his eyes narrowed, causing more wrinkles to appear across his face.

“Yes, here you are.  Alone in my castle.”  The prince released the commander’s cloak from his grasp.  “You have your sword strapped to your side, but before you could pull it out to defend yourself, I would have slit your throat.”

“A threat?” Roland said with a laugh.  “You would threaten me?”

“Yes,” Toknon replied with a glare.  “We wish no fight with Taran, but I have had it with dealing with your kind.  The last sneaky Taran that came calling with promises left us with several hundred dead and wounded.”

“Oh?” the Commanded responded, surprised.  “Who would that be?  I was unaware that you already had dealings with us.”

“He called himself Hibold.  A thin, weasel of man.  And those dealings are done.  If I ever see that snake again, I will slit his throat.”

“I know of him.  He is a politician and as such, should not be trusted.  You and I are warriors, soldiers that serve our countries.  You can trust me.”

“I can, but I will not.  Do you now have what you need?”

The commander pulled out a folded parchment that was sealed with Thell’s royal seal.  “Passage for my companies through your lands.  That should keep your patrols off our backs.  We certainly would not want some accidental incident where lives are lost because of a misunderstanding.”

“Of course not,” the prince replied with a sneer.

Commander Roland tucked the parchment back inside his cloak.  He started to leave, but then he turned back.  “There is one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“This queen of theirs, you fancy her?”

“What kind of question is that?  Is
that
some sort of threat?”

“Of course not,” Commander Roland replied coolly.  “It’s just that I watched how you looked at her all night.”

“What?”

“I was here, in disguise, all night.  Quite a feast, I must add.  Well, if you do fancy her, I would recommend that she stay in your company through the winter.”

“Why would I do that?”

“If she were to return home, I would venture to say that she would not survive to spring.”

The prince gave Commander Roland a long look.  There was more going on than what the commander was revealing, so he would have to pull it out of him.  “Your soldiers that I am allowing to pass through my land, they can only be scouts for a larger force, am I right?  Why would I just not tell Queen Elissa now?”

“That would be unwise,” Roland replied.  “Indeed, there are elements of the army that are on the move.  But they could just as easily march straight east to Thellia rather than south into Karmon.  And yes, that is a threat.”

Commander Roland took a step forward so he was only inches from Toknon’s face.  He continued in a whisper.  “Here is what will you will do.  You will tell the queen nothing.  You will keep our meeting secret.  You will keep your patrols away from your western borders.  And if you wish to save the queen’s life, then you will keep her here through spring.  I care nothing for her or the kingdom.  It is only South Karmon that I want.  But if I find out that you have betrayed my trust, there is nothing that will stop my army from crushing your kingdom.  Thell is nothing to Taran.  A tiny pimple on a baby-faced boy.  It is hardly worth an effort to even think about you.  But if you anger us, we will crush you.  Completely.  Wipe you off the face of the earth.  Do you understand?”

Toknon said nothing, he simply stood there, doing his best to control his anger.  He could feel his face getting flush and he suddenly became very, very hot.

Commander Roland stepped away and glanced around, just to be sure his threats had not been heard.  Then without another word, he disappeared into the shadows of the castle.

Prince Toknon remained in the dark for some time, trying to decide what he should do.  If he did nothing, then his kingdom would be protected and would survive whatever plans the Tarans had.  But he didn’t think that he could live with himself if he let that happen.

Chapter Four

Marik Brownbow was frustrated.  He knew he had let his emotions get the better of him and that was why he had lost focus and missed his turn.  But he could not get the image of Conner getting cut down by a half dozen crossbow bolts out of his mind.  Each time he thought about it, he felt a pain deep in the pit of his stomach, and a cry strained to get out.  But he held it in, just as he did the anger.  It was a low burning rage that was just on the verge of bursting out, but he knew that he could not let it get out.  His training in weapons was not only about the skill with the blade, but also the discipline of emotions.  A Karmon Knight could not let his emotions get the better of him, else he would lose focus in the middle of a fight and one slipup would mean death.

That was why he was so frustrated with himself.  While leaving the arena, he had let his emotions get the better of him and he had lost focus, which led to him getting lost in the winding streets of Tara City.  He wanted to place the blame of his predicament on Queen Elissa, for she had been the one to disband the Karmon Knights.  If she had kept them intact, he would still be serving the kingdom as a Knight Ranger, and he would not have lost his edge.  Not to mention, he would be hundreds of miles away, safe in his home city of South Karmon.

In the middle of the street, he came to a stop.  He was not being fair to the queen.  She had not been the one to force him to lose focus.  It had been his lack of discipline in the moment that had caused it.  He did not need to have some sort of title in order to have discipline.  He should have it regardless.  Whether he was knight in name or not, he still needed to act like one and not let his emotions guide his actions.

He looked back over his shoulder.  The sun was well on its way towards the horizon.  There was still light, but he knew that darkness would be coming soon.  Even if he made it to the gate, it would be a difficult trek to get back to his camp in the middle of the night.  He knew where he needed to go, but the markers he had memorized on the way in would look much different in the darkness.

The problem facing him now was that he wasn’t sure how to get to the gate.  The streets and alleys of the city were not straight and they twisted and turned back in opposite directions.  The moment he thought he was heading towards the gate, he found himself turned around.  Standing alone in the middle of the street, with night falling around him, he knew he was lost.

A noise in the shadows of a nearby building caught his attention.  A man stepped from a doorway carrying a bag over his shoulder.  He wore an apron covered in flour and looked directly at Marik, his face showing some surprise.

Marik approached.  The man looked around, as if he were looking for a place to run to.

“Hello!” Marik said as friendly as he could.

The man set his bag on the ground.  He said something in Taran, which Marik did not understand.  He wished that he had the time to learn the language.  He felt naked in the city, unable to speak to hardly anyone.

“I don’t know what you are saying,” Marik replied.

“I have nothing,” the man said, this time so that Marik could understand him.  He glanced back at his shop.

Marik stepped forward and the man took a step back.

“I am not here to steal from you,” Marik said, realizing why the man was acting strangely.

“What do you want then?” the man snapped.  “It is late.”

“I just need to know how to get to the gate?”

The man shook his head, mumbling, “
Arata
,” under his breath.  Then, louder, he said, “It is yonder to the east.  Just follow the street.”

“I have been following it for quite some time,” Marik replied.  “I keep going in circles.  I am sure I am lost.”

The man picked up his bag and slung it back over his shoulder.  “The gate is directly east.  If you cannot find it, then that is your problem.”

“What?”

“You foreigners come into the city, march around as if you own the place, beg and plead for better deals while we barely survive on what meager income we get.”

Marik did not know what to say.  It had been so long since he had been talked to in such a derogatory way that he wasn’t sure how to react.  The last time anyone had ever used such a tone with him was when he was a squire.  Since then, he had always been recognized as a knight and was always given the respect he deserved.

“Go back home,” the man said.  He turned and walked away, leaving Marik in the middle of the street.

Marik watched the man walk away, feeling small and insignificant.  He did not like the feeling.  He was used to being an important part of the kingdom, protecting and defending it with his life.  A brooding sense of despair suddenly came over him.  Never in his life had he felt as alone as he did now.  Even in the days and weeks that he spent traveling from Karmon to Taran, he had never felt this alone.  It surprised him, being alone in the largest city in the known world.  There were thousands, maybe even millions of people around him, and he still felt all alone.

“
Arata!
” a voice called out from behind him.

Marik turned.  The man in an apron was down the street, looking at him.

“Two streets down, take a right,” the man called out to him.  “That will take you right to the east gate.”

Marik called out to thank the man, but he had already turned and was walking away quickly.  After a frustrated shake of his head, Marik continued down the street towards the main gate.

***

As Marik approached the wide street that led through the gates, the streets suddenly became more crowded.  There were pockets of pedestrians just standing around, clumped together talking and looking around nervously.  Marik slowed down and started looking around himself.  Something was amiss, but it was not obvious.

As soon as he turned onto the main street that would take him out of the city, he came to a much larger crowd.  There was more than just milling around, there was an excited, even angry, buzz about the crowd.  The gates to the city were closed, and centurions, armed with crossbows, were standing on the wall above the gate, their weapons not turned out against an invader, but towards the crowd.

Marik found himself next to an empty cart being led by an ox that was standing perfectly still.  A man stood next to the ox, chatting with a group of five other men.  They were speaking in Commoner, a language that he could understand, so he approached them.

“Hello!” Marik called out as friendly as he could.

The group of six men looked at him warily.

“What is going on?” Marik asked.

The man with the ox and cart replied with an obviously irritated tone, “We do not know.  The gates were closed some time ago.  I still have a long walk home, and I certainly do not want to be on the roads after dark.  Too many bandits roam the nights.”

“Is there any other way out?” Marik asked.

“All the gates are closed,” another man replied.

A commotion from down the street caused them all to turn.  There was some shouting and yelling, but the rest of the crowd settled down and became quiet.  A single voice could be heard shouting to clear a path, and the crowd did so, moving aside.

Marik fought against the wave of the crowd as he tried to move towards the shouting.  Even before he saw them, he knew it was a company of soldiers, marching towards the gate.  The centurions stomped their feet, marking time.  Their marching was drilled into them so well that they did not need anyone calling cadence.  Mark counted thirty-four centurions.  Three rows of eleven with a commander marching in front of them.  They were all fully armed with short swords at their sides, long, square shields on the left arms, and a spear in their right hands.  Their heads were all capped with a plumed helm that had nose and cheek guards.  Marik was close enough to see their eyes, focused straight ahead.  None were young men, but were all older, likely veterans of many battles.  Something serious was happening, as it was not young and green soldiers called to duty; it was the best and most experienced.

As soon as they passed, the crowd closed in behind them.  Marik joined others that followed only a few paces behind, marching all the way to the gates.

Just before they reached the enormous iron gate, the lead centurion began shouting out commands in Taran and his men followed with a precision move.  Each of the outside columns peeled off to either side, while the center column began marching in place.  At the next command, the centurions in the center column began turning in place, their legs still pumping up and down.  As soon as the outside columns were far enough away, the lead centurion gave another command and every other centurion in the middle column went in the opposite direction.  Once the last command was given, all thirty-three centurions were stretched across the gate, their spears lowered and pointed out towards the crowd.

The leader was armored just like his men, but he did not carry a spear or a shield.  His short sword swung from his hip as he stepped forward.

“
Tenshun!”
the man called out.  “Attention!” he repeated in Commoner.  “Emperor Hargon, our beloved leader has been slain.”  He paused to let the murmur of the crowd settle down.  “The gates will remain closed, and none shall pass into, or out of the city until the killer has been found and executed.  Anyone trying to pass into the city, or leave the city, will be chained and imprisoned.  Defiance will be met with a swift end.”  The centurion leader again paused, but this time he turned his head to look into the crowd.

“The emperor’s brother, Prince Tarcious, has assumed the duties of the empire,” the centurion continued.  “His word will be law, and his word has closed the gates.  To defy the order is to defy the empire.  You will disperse from the streets.  Return to your homes.”

Someone shouted out a complaint, cursing the centurion because he could not return to his home outside the gate.  The centurions on top of the gate all directed their crossbows at the speaker.  The centurions on the ground did not move.

The lead centurion shouted out, “The emperor has been slain.  Until his killer has been brought to justice, none shall leave the city.  That is the command of the prince.”

Further shouts followed, some in Taran, some in Commoner.  But they all were angry and directed at the centurion leader.

In response, the centurion drew his short sword and turned his head so his men could hear the next command.  With that command, the thirty-three centurions stepped forward, their spears low and at the ready.  They kept marching forward, towards the crowd.

“Disperse!” the centurion leader shouted out.

The crowd suddenly settled down and started to move back.  Marik followed the rest of the crowd and moved back away from the gate.  His hand instinctively went to his side, but there was no sword there.  He once again felt naked and exposed.  Backing away to keep one eye on the centurions and the other eye on the crowd, he knew when it was time to retreat.  Many in the crowd did not feel the same, and they stood their ground.  From a distance, Marik could see a handful of angry merchants, pointing and yelling at the centurions, but the disciplined armed company did not waver.

Marik was impressed at the self-control that he was seeing from the professional soldiers.  It would have been easy for them to start swinging at the crowd to get them to disperse using fear of death as a motivator.  If things did turn ugly, the soldiers were highly outnumbered and would not survive a mass attack.  But because they were armed, they would certainly kill many times their number before they were overwhelmed.  And if that did happen, he did not want to be anywhere near the fighting.  Any sort of rioting would not go well for anyone, especially innocent bystanders.  So as the crowd yelled and shouted their anger, and the centurions stood their ground, Marik turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.

The centurions who marched to the main gate of the city were not the only soldiers that took to the streets.  Many other soldiers were patrolling and Marik did everything that he could to avoid them.  He tried his best not to be obvious about it, but many times he was sure that he was being followed.  With long strides, he moved quickly from one street to another, taking each alleyway that he could find.  Several times he doubled back, trying to see if he was being tailed, but each time he did, there was no one following him.

Marik made his way south through the city as the centurions spread out first to cover the city gates.  To the south was the part of the city the locals called the Lower Quarter.  It was physically lower than the rest of the city as it was right next to the Gulf of Taran.  But it was also the slummiest part of the city.  Crime was rampant in the Lower Quarter and he knew that it was not the place for a foreigner to go.  But because of the criminal element, it was also the last place that centurions wanted to go.

The city walls were built right down to the water’s edge and actually went into the water.  Although he wouldn’t be able to walk his way around the wall, he might be able to swim his way around.  It would be a cold and dangerous swim, but he was running out of options.  With the gates to the city closed, the only other way out of the city was to get wet.

The sun was a large ball of red as it hovered over the waters of the gulf.  The light of the sun reflected off the choppy waters of the gulf, making a scene that caused many to stop and take notice.  Marik was not one of them.  With twilight upon the city and nighttime just moments away, he needed to get to the water’s edge before he got mugged or worse.  He stayed in light of the street lamps; at least those that were lit.  The lamplighters had made their rounds, but not all the lamps were functional.  There were some people milling about, talking in hushed whispers.  Word of the march of the centurions had reached the Lower Quarter, and they were not sure what was coming next.