The Halfblood King: Book 1 of the Chronicles of Aertu (11 page)

Chapter 11

Zorekday, Day 18, Growing Moon, 8760 Sudean Calendar

Mid-morning on their third day in Arundell brought Aleron and Hadaras to the palace gates.  Zorekday, devoted to the God of the Sea and the last day of the week, was traditionally a rest day in the city, especially for the government, so Hadaras deemed it the best day to tour the palace grounds.  The usual frantic activity would commence tomorrow, on Gurlachday and casual visiting was discouraged.  As they entered into the expansive front courtyard, a minor official announced, “Gentlemen, if you are interested, a tour will start on the next bell.”

“Thank you Sir, but that’s quite alright,” Hadaras replied.  “I know my way around well enough.”

“Very well Sir, enjoy your visit.” 

The courtyard and gardens were open to the public every day, but Zorekday was the only day the old throne room was open.  They crossed the wide flagstone courtyard, easily large enough to review an entire regiment, on their way to the public gardens.  The gardens were equally as expansive as the courtyard.  Wide paths meandered through impeccably maintained beds of flowers and incredibly detailed topiary.  Statuary abounded, depicting characters and scenes from Sudean history.  At the center of the garden, Hadaras led them to a larger than life statue in marble, of a tall man in armor, moustached but beardless, his right hand resting high on the hilt of a greatsword.  “Meet your namesake lad,” Hadaras announced, “Aleron, King of Sudea.”  Hadaras was impressed that the facial features still seemed accurate, this likely being the tenth such statue erected to honor the great king.  Marble only lasted so long, after all. 
They must have a proof hidden in a vault somewhere,
he thought.

“So that’s what he looked like,” Aleron stated, unconsciously stroking the wispy moustache on his lip and thinking no beard may not be the worst thing that could happen.  The statue had a familiarity that he could not put his finger on.  “He looks like somebody I know, but I can’t think of whom.”

Hadaras knew that if he had a mirror, he might have made the connection more easily.  The statue looked like an older version of the boy standing before him.  “Come on, my boy; let’s get a look at the throne room before it gets too crowded.”

Aleron turned to face Hadaras and then suddenly his eyes got wide.  “That fountain, it’s the one from my dreams!”  He pointed to the fountain the statue of Aleron was facing.  He had not noticed it when they approached.  The ornate fountain was situated at the very center of the garden.

“Are you sure it’s the same one?” Hadaras asked as Aleron rushed to touch the construct.

“Yes, Grandfather, it’s unmistakable.  All the markings are the same as in my dreams.  I’m sure of it,” he answered as he ran his fingers along the smooth marble rim.  “This is the fountain of the white water.”  Water poured from the jugs held by the statues four maidens, facing the cardinal directions, with their backs to a sacred oak.  Numerous magical glyphs were carved into the pedestal on which the maidens stood, most of them involving blessings of peace and prosperity for the kingdom.  Aleron felt a tingling in his fingertips as he touched the stone and, unable to help himself, he dipped his hand into the fountain and scooped up a mouthful of the water.  It was refreshingly cold, but otherwise, he felt nothing.

“Now don’t be doing that,” Hadaras admonished him.  “People might find drinking from the fountains a bit uncouth.”  Sure enough, a few passersby did look crossly at them.

“How could I have dreamed about something I’ve never seen before?”

“I don’t know Aleron, but I am sure that those are not mere dreams you have been having.  I just don’t know what to make of them yet.  Now come on, let’s go to the palace before the crowds arrive.”

To enter the inner courtyard, leading to palace doors, they had to give up their weapons to the guards.  In return, they received a colored and numbered ticket.  Several sword belts and miscellaneous other personal weapons were already hanging on the numbered hooks beside the guardhouse.  “Now don’t lose that ticket, or we will have to come back tomorrow and pay to get your weapons from impound,” Hadaras implored.  “That is, if no one else takes a liking to them first and pays the fine, claiming them as their own.  This is a good place to find inexpensive weapons if one lacks honesty.”

“I won’t lose it Grandfather,” Aleron assured him.  “Here, I’ll put it in my coin purse and then back in my belt pouch it goes.”

Hadaras nodded, satisfied with the boy’s solution.  “Let us proceed then, my boy.”  He led the way to the expansive main doorway, four yards wide and tall.  The gilded steel doors swung inward on massive hinges, to reveal a huge antechamber.  They stepped into the marble chamber that could have held two hundred comfortably, though they shared the space with only a half dozen others.  Hadaras watched as Aleron took in the sight of the pristine white room, with its high vaulted ceilings and ornate carvings.  Golden sunlight filtered in through narrow windows set high on the walls.  Another set of doors, matching the first and hinged to open into the antechamber as well, remained closed and barred from within.  Beside the huge doorway were two smaller ones, one on either side and also constructed of thick steel and gilded.  These were open, with pikemen, still as statues in full military regalia, standing guard.  “Don’t let the fancy uniforms fool you lad,” Hadaras said when he noticed Aleron looking them over.  “The palace guards are like the couriers.  They glean them from the best of the best.”

“I don’t doubt it, Grandfather,” Aleron replied.  He noticed the long scar, running temple to chin, on the one and the crisscrossed scars on the forearms of two others.  These men were all veterans and definitely not dandies.  They proceeded through the door to the right as the guards stared unflinchingly ahead, as if Aleron and his grandfather did not exist.  If the antechamber was impressive, then the throne room itself was spectacular.  Fifty paces long and twenty-five wide, the vaulted ceilings reached at least fifty feet to where the arches intersected.  The pillars supporting the arches were carved to look like tree trunks and the arches like limbs.  The room gave the impression that one was in a forest of gleaming white marble.  Leaf like tracery in silver and gold covered the ceilings.  Countless banners and pennants, commemorating thousands of year’s worth of military campaigns, were festooned between the pillars lining the central aisle and tapestries depicting significant events in Sudean history lined the outer walls.  Contrasting all this was the massive black granite throne at the far end, empty for over one thousand years.  The clean simple lines of the polished granite seemed at odds with the ornate nature of the room.  Aleron knew from his reading, that the throne was far older than the hall it sat in and nearly as old as the kingdom itself.  King Aleron had the new throne room completed just a few years before the great war against the Adversary and moved the ancient throne of his kingdom, rather than have a new one built to match the space. 

As they moved closer to the seat, Aleron saw something glittering blue in the sunlight.  Hadaras noticed it too and hoped no one else could see it seemed to be glowing with an inner light, too bright to be the fault of the sun alone.  He secretly cast a shade about the throne, to conceal the glow that was getting ever brighter as Aleron approached. 
No doubts now,
he thought,
the sword recognizes its master. 
The blue glow came from the sapphire studded pommel of Andhanimwhid, the sword known in the vernacular as the ‘Sign of the King’.  It glowed with blue radiance in the presence of the rightful King and only that one could draw it from the stone of the throne’s back that encased the blade.

There were others touring the place as well.  The old throne room was no longer used for any official government business.  That was done in the steward’s offices deep within the palace.  Aleron panned the room and to his surprise, there was the auburn haired girl from the market, along with her bodyguards and speaking to a well-dressed and handsome older gentleman.  She was pointing at Aleron and whispering into his ear when Aleron spotted her.  She quickly dropped her hand and turned to avoid his eyes.  He nudged his grandfather, saying, “Grandfather, it’s the girl from the market the other day.”  As Hadaras turned to face them, the older gentleman’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Hadaras, you old badger,” he shouted, “I thought I’d never see you in the capital again.”

Hadaras laughed and replied, “Gealton, good to see you.  I thought as much myself.  Come on Aleron,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder, “let’s go meet the Steward of Sudea.”   Aleron followed in shocked disbelief as they crossed the floor to the highest-ranking official in the Kingdom.  Hadaras dropped to one knee and bowed his head when he came to one pace from the Steward and Aleron followed suit, to his immediate left.

“Get up old friend,” Gealton cried, moving to grasp Hadaras’ shoulders, “and you too lad,” he directed Aleron.  “How have you been, old friend,” he asked, embracing Hadaras as he got to his feet. 

“I’ve been well, old friend, living in the country for the last twenty years or so,” Hadaras answered, “And you?”

“I’m doing well enough, I suppose, though I never had the option of melting into the landscape, much as I’d like to some days.   I would like for you to meet my youngest daughter, Eilowyn and her esteemed bodyguards, Hans and Simeon.”  The two large men bowed and the girl curtsied.

“Pleased to meet you Milady and Gentlemen,” Hadaras replied, returning a deep bow, with Aleron awkwardly following suit.  “This is my grandson, Aleron, son of my daughter Audina and Valgier.”  Aleron bowed again, more gracefully this time and was answered with still more bows and a curtsy.  “You have a lovely young lady there, my friend,” he continued, as the girl blushed.

“Thank you; she is an exceptional girl.  That’s a fine strapping young lad you have there, with a fine name as well.  Eilowyn and her guardians told me a story of a young lad dispatching a pair of ruffians at the market.  They said it was over in the blink of an eye.  It’s not so surprising, now that I see he’s the grandson of the fastest sword in the kingdom.”  At that, Aleron looked to his grandfather in surprise.

“You flatter me Gealton.”

“That I do not, Hadaras,” the Steward retorted.  He addressed the others, saying, “I’ve seen this man win against six spearmen at once, came through without a scratch.  We served together on the elvish borderlands.  He saved my arse more than once when we battled the jungle men.  He one time plucked one of their poison darts right out of the air, just as it was to take me in the eye.  I literally owe my life to this man.  How long have you been training the lad here?”

“Nearly six years now.”

“He started when I was nine, Milord,” Aleron added, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“Nine, which makes you about fifteen then son?” the Steward asked.

“Almost, Milord,” Aleron answered, “I turn fifteen in the summer.

“Big for his age,” Gealton said to Hadaras.  “Those lads he took on in the market are both seventeen, sons of minor vassals, both of them.  They should be in the military by now, but they’re too busy lording it over the commoners to be bothered.  It’s a growing problem with the younger generation of nobles.  They think the people exist to serve them, not the other way around.  It does not bode well for the Kingdom, if you ask me.  I’m considering mandatory service for all able-bodied noble sons.  It should not have to be a law though.  So what are your plans for the future, my boy?” he inquired of Aleron.

“I’m having trouble deciding between the army and navy, Milord, so I’m thinking the marines might be the best of both worlds,” answered the boy.

“Excellent, is the lad’s father a soldier?” he asked Hadaras.

“No, my daughter chose a fine honest woodsman for her mate.  We lost them both twelve years back and I’ve been raising the lad since.”  A sad expression crossed Aleron’s face, as it reminded him of his lost parents, accompanied by a soft gasp of sympathy from Eilowyn. Aleron glanced over to see her brilliant green eyes regarding him and quickly looked down again, blushing himself, this time.  She smiled slightly at that, but he did not see it.

“So sorry to hear that lad,” Gealton said to Aleron, “but I can’t think of a better man to have raised you than old Hadaras here.  Come, my friend, let’s talk,” he said, grasping Hadaras’ arm, “I want to know what you have been up to for the last twenty years.”  They walked off together, leaving the young people with Hans and Simeon.

“Aleron, is it?  I like that name,” the girl offered, to start conversation.

“Yes, Milady,” Aleron affirmed, “that is my name,” lifting his eyes to meet her gaze again.

“You can call me ‘Ellie’, all my friends do and none of this ‘Milady’, unless there are folks about of course.  Would you like me to show you around a bit?”

“Yes, I would like that…Ellie,” Aleron answered, “if it’s all right with your father, of course.”

“I think we will be fine,” she replied.  “Simeon and Hans won’t let us out of their sight, I’m sure,” she said, directing it as much to her bodyguards as to Aleron.

“Of course not, Milady,” Simeon replied, “your safety is our utmost concern, over our own lives.”  Aleron recognized him as the one who scowled at him in the market two days past.

“Could my privacy be at least a minor concern as well?” she asked, sweetly.  “Please give us a little space.”

“As you wish, Milady,” Hans conceded.  The bodyguards allowed the teenagers to advance a few paces before following.  “They make a handsome couple, don’t they Sim?” he whispered.

“Aye,” Simeon agreed, “but they don’t stand a chance, with the boy being a commoner and all.”

“Aye, too bad that and it looks like she really fancies him,” Hans added before the two fanned out to cover more area.

“Would you like to see the throne of your namesake, Aleron?” Eilowyn asked.

“Sure,” he replied.  “That would be great,” his eyes of silver meeting hers of emerald with more confidence than before.