duty and destiny
by armond
Prince Cadon is the only son to King Rhys, and heir to the Glamorgan throne.
His duty is to marry the Princess Avila of Parasia.
His duty is to unite the kingdoms against the plots and schemes of the King of Arcum to the south.
Seems clear enough.
Yet Selene's destiny for him is far far different.
that the wizard king Urien was once asked by his grandson, Prince Dafyd, what he thought his greatest adventure was; whether it be capturing the Bull of Silver Hollow, the besting of the Underworld Lord Tartaros in the Riddle Game, or his victory over the fell wizard Iacobus. The king pondered a moment, and answered his most exciting adventure was traveling the lands with the prince’s grandmother, he as humble performing magician, and she as his assistant. When the young prince pressed him for the reason this was the legendary king’s greatest exploit, he stated he liked the skimpy outfit his grandmother wore during their shows. To which, the Chronicles say, his sorceress queen Morgana gave a lusty laugh.
“Have enough sense to come in from the cold. You are a prince, for Selene’s sake! No one will think lesser of you for it.”
“No one but me. Best I reckon, we arrive in two hours, ladies. Then I’m buying a round of hot cocoa for every sister who loves me.” Caden said, and lowered the coach window flap.
“Buying us a round, is he? Who is he kidding?” Carme said, wrapping her blanket around her so only her blond head peeped out. “King Coel will have steaming buckets of the stuff waiting when we arrive.”
“Cami, he was joking.” Rhonwen rolled her eyes, and turned to her black-haired sister beside her. “Why do you question him so? Can’t you see he rides outside to gain the respect of his men?”
“If Father had twenty sons, I would say, fine, court the love of his men; esprit de corp and all that,” Gwyneth said. “Be he doesn't; Caden is it, our one and only, and so he hasn't the luxury to risk himself.”
Rhonwen crossed her arms. “But how can they respect him if-”
“-respect? Must they respect him to death?” Gwyneth said. “He proved his worth last spring when an Arcum pike almost spitted him in the boarder skirmishes. Someone needs to tell him to grow up and-”
“-Please don't stir things up, Gweni, we must behave,” Laelia said. “Father said this is more a diplomatic mission than our attending Avila’s ball. King Coel is sure to announce the engagement to Caden soon and-”
Her eyes widened when their coach hit a large ka-thumping boulder.
“Sor-ry princess-es!” the voice of one of the coachmen filtered through the ceiling.
Rhonwen threw open the flap and wriggled through the window, grabbing a roof railing above. The sisters saw her dangling feet and heard a muffled discussion. When she slipped back in, her freckled face was ruddy from cold.
“Whooo Hoooooo! I'm awake now!” Rhonwen said. She looked at the raised-eyebrow expressions of Carme and Laelia. “What? What did I do?”
Gwyneth thumped Rhonwen's arm. “I swear, Roni, you have less sense than Caden! What message was so important that you risked your life?”
“Aww, and I thought you didn't care,” Rhonwen grinned. “I ordered our coachman to stop apologizing for every tiny bump; it's not like he put them there.”
“Hhmmph.” Gwyneth answered. “And while you were pulling your little gymnastic stunt, did you happen to see our brother?”
Rhonwen nodded. “He rides point, of course.”
“Did he at least have his cloak over his head?” Gwyneth said.
When Rhonwen nodded, Gwyneth gave a long sigh.
“Thank Selene for small favors.”
2.
“The Glamorgan retinue,” Faolá¡n said, as he peered out his window. “Peachy.”
“Mew mew”
“I respectfully disagree,” he answered. “Prince Cadon does not look noble. Some familiar you are; whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Meeeeew,” the cat answered.
“Thank you for stating the obvious; you know it just might be possible for you to be on Selene's and my side.”
Faolá¡n lowered his window flap; the flickering candles steadied at the stopping of the breeze. He returned to his seat beside the oaken table stacked high with scrolls. Faolá¡n started to picked one up, but stopped to regard the window once more.
“She deserves better than him. Avila deserves...”
His fingers clasped the metallic collar that circled his neck. Then he slammed a fist on the table.
“Iacobus cannot have protected this against all opening spells. Let's try another.”
Faolá¡n unrolled a scroll, moved his black curly hair from his face, and peered at the parchment.
White sparks crackled from his collar, causing him to yelp, but the metal band remained locked.
After rubbing his neck, Faolá¡n dipped a feather tip in his ink pot and made a mark on a parchment on the table. The paper held many marks.
“Meeew mew.”
“I'm not discouraged, but thanks all the same, Zoe. If he warded my yoke against all release spells in the history of man, then I shall invent one. I will win free of this thralldom.”
3.
“Greetings princesses and sisters to be, the King sends me as emissary to welcome you to Westfalon. Come inside where a roaring fire and hot apple cider await.”
Carme, Laelia, Rhonwen, and then Gwyneth filed out of the coach, each earning a diplomatic hug and kiss from Avila.
“I hope you do better than that for me,” Cadon said, pulling back his hood. “I didn’t ride all this way for a handshake, darlin’.”
“Oh? Does the Prince believe he is entitled to special favors,” Avila said. She grinned, and stuck out her hand.
Cadon grasped it and pulled her close so that their faces touched. “Yes, I do.”
He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, settling in for a long kiss. Only after several *ahems* from his sisters did he pull back.
“Still chilled, love?” Avila said, panting, “or have I raised your temperature a bit?”
“I bet that’s not all you’ve raised,” Rhonwen said, which earned her a whack on the arm from Carme.
“Roni!” Carme said. “I am so sorry about that, Avila-”
“-You don’t even get the joke,” Rhonwen said.
“Ohh! I do to get it-”
“I’m not sure you will ever ‘get it’ at the rate you are-”
“-I need to tend to Llamrei, Avila,” Cadon said, after giving the princess a light kiss. “I’ll leave you to sort out my sisters.”
“You are leaving me for your horse? Surely one of our capable stable boys can see to her.”
“She is my partner and I leave her care to no other,” Cadon answered, as he walked down the cobblestone street. “Imagine how much care I will shower on you when we are wed.”
“Dream on! And …take a bath, too! I do not find greasy blond hair charming.”
Avila turned back to her princess audience. “Stood up for a horse. Arrggh! Your brother is impossible! I want to smack him, but I suppose I must wait until we are husband and wife for that right.”
“Oh, no need to wait on that,” Rhonwen answered, “We do it all the time, as you do no doubt, with your brothers. You have our permission to bash him whenever you want. Now, did I hear you mention something about hot cider?”
“Ah! My manners desert me; you must all wish to warm and freshen up. Follow me, ladies. And any arrows you can arm me with to use against your cur of a brother would be most appreciated,” Avila said, leading the group through the oaken doors of the Great Hall.
“For instance, was he a bed wetter when young, or did he ever…”
4.
“You keep interesting company, Syner.”
The aged man scrunched his bushy eyebrows and looked up.
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, sir?”
“Interesting company indeed,” the hooded man continued. “Mister Fermin is rumored to be a spy on the payroll of the King of Arcum. And he came to visit you not two days ago. Why?”
Syner’s hand shook, causing ink to drip on the parchment before him.
“Curse the gods! Hours of work, ruined!” He blotted the ink and placed his quill in an inkjar. “I know of no Fermin who came here, and I have had many customers this week, thank fortune. I am but a humble scribner who takes what work he can get.”
The hooded man leaned close, and pulled back his hood. “Such modesty, Syner. Yet in my circles, you are known as the finest forger in Kotugul.”
“Jaussen! I was going to alert you, I swear, by the-”
Jaussen’s knife slammed through the parchment, pinning it to the scribner’s table.
“Tell me now.”
When Syner saw the set of Jaussen’s face, his pasty complexion turned whiter.
“He had me prepare, sign, and seal a letter from King Rhys to King Gritha. I had no choice, I-”
Jaussen’s voice grew soft, hissing. “And what did this ‘letter’ from Glamorgan’s ruler …say?”
“It proposed an alliance, between Glamorgan and Arcum. Rhys promised to deliver Princess Avila as hostage to King Gritha, in exchange for a mutual defense treaty and increased copper and grain trade.”
“What?! Blast! And he headed north?”
“Mister Fermin does not consult with me about his movements,” Syner answered. “But presumably he is headed to Westfalon, where such a document would be useful, and ...most dangerous.”
As Jaussen paced the scribner’s shop; the only sounds in the room were his boots creaking over wooden planks. Then the dark-eyed man turned back to Syner.
“By Selene you will draft another letter from King Rhys, forger, and this is what it will say…”
End Part 1.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
duty and destiny - part 2
by armond
The young lovers Caden and Avila plan their summer wedding.
But the schemes of King Grithra and Fermin, his agent, are about to bear fruit.
Jaussen uncovers the plot, but can he reach Westfalon in time to save the prince and his sisters?
5.
“Do not think of it so. Instead, know you by your actions, lives are saved, in both kingdoms.”
Still Malavet would not touch the coin sack in front of him. Instead, he stroked his gray beard.
“How, Fermin, does my doing of this ...deception ...make me a hero?”
“Arcum has no love of war,” Fermin said, “for years we suffered the insane wars of King Amangons. Since the glorious day the Selenes destroyed him, all Arcum people view peace as the Goddess' gift.”
“As do the Parasians,” Malavet said. “Still I fail to see how-”
“Two kingdoms, in balance. Arcum, Parasia. Your army is larger, yet with our navy, we match your might. Glamorgan is the key. Their forces are smaller, but whom they align with will triumph. King Grithra cannot allow the Parasian infantry and Glamorgan cavalry to align against him. And so he will attack in a preemptive strike-”
“-if Caden and Avila wed,” Malavet said.
“Exactly,” Fermin said. “King Gritha will treat such a union as a declaration of war on Arcum. We must be the sane ones, you and I. We must avert this crisis.”
Malavet fingered the coin bag. “Which one?”
“Sorry?”
“If I carry this stratagem through, which princess should I suggest to King Coel?”
“The eldest, I suppose, Princess Gwyneth. So you will do it?”
“She will be treated well?”
Fermin smiled. “Well treated indeed, friend, it is in our best interests to do so. She will be hostage in name only; our guest in all other respects. And after living in the rugged Glamorgan highlands, she may even enjoy her seaside stay.”
Malavet picked up the coin bag; weighed it in his palm. “This bribe is heavy.”
“No, not a bribe,” Fermin said. “This plan requires a subtle touch; only you have skill to do it. You hold in your hands Arcum’s peace ransom.”
“I will ...go to the archive room and compare this document to other communications from King Rhys. If the signature is a good enough rendition, then I will seek an audience with the King.
“I can ask no more.” Fermin bowed low.
“I think you are more excited about the wedding, than marrying me,” Caden said.
“A girl dreams of her wedding all her life, dear. It's something...” Avila sighed. “It's something a man cannot understand, so shut up, slap a grin on that handsome face, and suffer through this.”
They walked hand in hand through the palace rose garden.
“There are rose bushes everywhere,” Caden said. “This must be amazing in the summer; no garden could surpass this, save Rose Red's and Lily White's.”
“Hence the reason I picked it for our vow sharing,” she said, and thwacked him on his arm.”
“Ow! My princess packs a punch!”
“I've had practice on my hellion little brothers,” Avila said. “Rhonwen gave me permission to hit you, by the way.”
“I bet she did,” Caden grinned. Then his grin fled. “Who is that?”
She turned to see a dark-robed figure moving through the maze of leafless rose bushes.
“That, is Faolá¡n, father’s new toy. An expensive one too, he put a dent in Parasia's treasury.”
“Excuse me?”
“A wizardling he purchased from someone named Iacobus. Father controls Faolá¡n with a blue orb on the end of a staff.”
Caden grabbed Avila’s hands. “Iacobus? There aren’t many in the world with that cursed name. He was one of Amangons’ dark generals. Is Faolá¡n enslaved?”
“Do not look so troubled, love. The collar he wears enforces obedience, yes, but he is well cared for. And he performs the most amazing tricks-”
“-Avila! You cannot treat him as a trick pony! He is human being and-”
“-our rank permits us to treat him as we choose. Now hush,” Avila said. “Faolá¡n! Come here!”
The young man shuffled to where the couple stood and removed his hood, which allowed his black curls to spill out.
“Yes, m’lady?” Faolá¡n said with a smile. The smile turned to frown when he nodded to Caden. “Prince.”
“The Prince and I are trying to choose where our betrothal vows will be given, and I am of a mind to have them here. Would you cast an illusion to show us how the garden will look in full summer bloom?”
“I …am in the midst …of a research project …your father has ordered me to-”
“-men lack imagination in these matters, and it would be most helpful to my prince to be able to see it,” Avila said.
“What? Cannot the ‘golden prince’ manage a simple illusion?” Faolá¡n said. “I am told his is proficient at whatever he sets his hand to.”
“I am certainly no magician, and…” Caden paused to regard the man. “…why do you speak this way to me? Have I wronged you? You look barely into your manhood years, so I doubt we have met in battle.”
“You have not ill-treated me yet, but it is because you have lacked the opportunity,” Faolá¡n said. “In time you will; it is the nature of nobility to treat those of lesser rank as chattel.”
“That is not how we think in Glamorgan! There, a man’s worth is measured by his-”
“-Gentlemen! You bore me with your tedious words,” Avila said. “Faolá¡n, do not force me to tell my father of your behavior. Do this little favor for me, please?”
When she grasped his hands, Faolá¡n’s face reddened. “Yes, m’lady, for you.”
Faolá¡n closed his eyes, raised a hand, and spoke:
Red exploded everywhere, and where barren thorn stood before, now roses filled the bushes; thousands of them. The bushes greened too, bringing summer’s bloom into winter’s cold. Avila gasped.
“Spectacular! Yes! This is how it must look on our wedding day.”
“The illusion will last but a few minutes,” Faolá¡n sighed. “If that is all, I must return to my tasks.”
“Does it always flow out like a wave when you do that?” Caden said.
“You felt it?” Faolá¡n said. “That would be unfortunate.”
“Why?” Caden said.
“Because only one with the talent would be sensitive to the magic’s flow,” Faolá¡n said, “And the combination of an arrogant prince with the talent is a dreadful thought indeed.”
“The fellow has no love of me,” Caden said, as he watched the young wizard wander away. “I will not be on the lookout for couriers bearing invitations to his birthday party.”
“Ha! No one will receive those. His one friend in the world is his cat, whom he believes can talk,” Avila said. “Enough of him. My Ball is this evening and I must start dressing for it now. Let’s talk about what you will be wearing tonight, hmm?”
“Must we?” Caden sighed.
“I would rather be kissing you here, while the wondrous images of these roses yet remain.”
Jaussen rode North, for several hours, alternating between gallop and cantor, and rotating among the three mounts he had hired. Once he cleared the Beldell Forest, he made better time, but stopped at last at the northern shore of the Orwyn River to rest his mounts.
“No one wins but Fermin and Grithra if I ride you fellows into the ground.”
He unsaddled and brushed them, then turned them to drink their fill and nibble on sage and rabbit brush.
Once Jaussen hung his riding cloak on a tree branch to air it out, he began executing a series of stretched to loosen his tight muscles from his angular build. The winter sun caught the copper of his hair, but did little to warm him.
His stretching complete, Jaussen paced.
“Do I or don’t I alert Rhys? I have three facts and an assumption to act on: 1) Arcum is mustering its army. 2) The forged document exists and is in Fermin’s hands. 3) the prince and princesses are in Westfalon, and 4) presumably Fermin is there now too. Doing …what? Or the better question is...
…what would I do, if I was Fermin?”
He spent another ten minutes muttering and pacing.
“Unless …the letter is designed to incite King Coel to what? Take a hostage of his own? A possibility, but, too simple for a Fermin plot. Grithra is cautious to a fault and will only attack when he is certain the odds favor him. And that would only be the case if he was certain Glamorgan would not come to Parasia’s aid. If anyone needs a hostage it is Gritha.”
After he said those words, Jaussen halted his pacing so quickly, he nearly fell over.
“Oh my holy Selene!”
Jaussen pulled a satchel from his backpack, withdrawing a small parchment, ink and quill. He scribbled words, then rolled the small strip up. He then looked skyward and whistled. High above, a falcon screeched, and soon he felt its talons gripping his shoulder.
After tying the small scroll to one of the falcon’s legs, he stroked the bird’s head.
“This is your lucky day, my friend, you fly home.” Jaussen said, and then in a louder voice,
“HOME.”
With another screech, the great bird was airborne, flying north-northwest toward the Glamorgan highlands.
When the bird was a speck in the afternoon sky, Jaussen looked to the plain where the horses grazed.
“Sorry, fellows, rest time is over. Time to move.”
End Part 2.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
duty and destiny - part 3
by armond
Caden and his sisters are trapped by King Coel’s men after he reads the forged letter. The king offers Caden a onetime deal — submit willingly to his judgment, and he will return Caden’s sisters to Glamorgan unharmed.
King Coel looked first at the two year old trade treaty document, and then the letter to Grithra from Rhys. He rubbed his temples.
“Why?”
“Your Majesty?”
Coel leaned back in his redwood chair. “Why would Rhys do this, and send his for daughters, and his only son, into my hands. This makes no sense.”
“King Rhys is cold,” Malavet said, stroking his beard. “Now we see the degree; he plays the game with his daughters as pawns.”
“But …Caden is here, too. Rhys treasures him as I do Avila; it is unthinkable he would he risk him. Are you certain this letter is authentic? And …how did you say we came by this letter?”
“I hate to admit this," the king's minister said with a grin, " but our Kotugel agent happened on the letter by accident; Selene’s will, you could say. And, yes, our foremost scribners independently agree; it is authentic. Majesty, consider this…”
Malavet leaned close to the king. “Rhys’ letter promises your daughter as hostage to Acrum, yet all know how closely you guard her. So who, in the world, has unfettered access to her? Who?”
The king’s face reddened. “Caden!”
“And …how convenient …the prince is here, leading a contingent of Glamorgan cavalrymen.”
Coel sprang from his chair. “I will hang him from the palace gate and throw his sisters into the dungeon!”
“Sire! No! Though frosty cold, Rhys is not subtle. Grithra, however...”
“I will make him suffer, I will…what did you say?”
“Don’t you see? You play into Gritha’s hand; you drive Rhys into Gritha’s arms!”
“Yes …” Coel fell back into his chair. “That’s true. Then what? Rhys must pay! And Caden too; he who would betray my daughter’s heart.”
“Up the ante, sire. Send King Rhys a letter of your own. Tell him Gritha betrayed him and that you are sending one of his daughters as hostage, say, Princess Gwyneth, to insure Glamorgan’s submission.”
“Hmm,” Coel cocked his head. “Rhys will accuse Gritha of a double cross, Grithra will deny it, but knowing the Arcum king, he will not return the princess without some profit-”
“-Distrust arises, their alliance is lost, and your daughter is spared captivity by the Arcum scum-”
“And from marrying Caden. I like much of your plan …yet …the scales aren’t even; Rhys has not the same love of his daughters as I of Avila. But Caden …I wonder…”
Coel sprang from his chair. “Gather our guards, Malavet. Arrest the Glamorgans. Confine the princesses to their rooms. In one hour’s time, convene my council in the State Chamber, where we shall craft our response to this treachery.”
“Yes sire. So you are in agreement with my proposal?”
“Yes, but with a twist,” Coel said. “I must consult with …Faolá¡n.”
“So the sash …over the top?”
Caden’s reflection in the mirror showed him in Glamorgan cavalry dress blues, his wide white sash displaying several medals awarded during last spring’s border duty, and his four sisters crowding around, each in a floor length gown of differing rainbow hue.
“I assume if we weren’t here, you would be having this same discussion in your barracks with your men,” Gwyneth said.
“Ah, no, we’ve got nothing like your posh quarters; we stand in line for one miserable wash barrel. On the plus side, a good brawl or two usually erupts while in line.” Caden said. He straightened his shoulders.
“Will she find me irresistible?”
“You’re worse than we are,” Laelia said, before giving her brother an arm thwack. “Avila will swoon.”
“Oww! Why does everyone hit me these days? I was safer in the field.”
“You love this about us,” Carme said, hitting his other arm, “it is endearing.”
Her smile dissolved when she saw the expression on her brother’s face.
“Hey! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I-”
“No …no sshhh. I had the strangest feeling or premonition that…” Caden said.
His eyebrows shot up. “They’re coming! Lock the doors, Rhonwen! NOW!”
Rhonwen raised her skirt and sprinted to the door, locking it a moment before the doorknob shook on the other side.
“C’mon,” Caden yelled, as he wrestled a sofa in front of the door. "Everyone grab something to make a barricade!”
The sisters scrambled to pitch in, stacking chairs and tables on the couch. When the door shook again, a voice yelled, “Open in the name of the king.”
“Who speaks, and by what right do you come?” Caden said.
“Prince Cadon? Hiding here behind your sisters' skirts instead of with your men, eh? Open these doors and act like a man.”
Carme started screaming until Rhonwen clamped a hand over her mouth. When Caden’s hand went for his saber, Gwyneth grabbed it.
“Don’t. This is exactly what he wants, to throw open the doors and allow his men to overwhelm us.”
“If this is the end, I will go out fighting!”
“Use your brains! Father did not raise you stupid,” Gwyneth said. “We don’t know what this is about, nor the fate of our men. Play. For. Time.”
“How? We are trapped and in moments they smash the doors.”
“Under section 3.2 of the Treaty of Argentia,” Gwyneth answered, “when armed conflict between two countries is eminent, a head of state has the right to demand an immediate parlay with the opposite leader, to attempt to avoid the bloodshed.”
The pounding on the doors grew later, as did the shouts of ‘OPEN!’
“That’s a stretch, Gweni,” Caden said. “I am not the king, this is not war, and …you’ve actually read the Treaty?”
“I have read all the treaties in our archives,” Gwyneth said. “At this moment, you represent the Glamorgan crown. Since you have a sword, and I presume they do as well, this conflict is ‘armed.’ They are bound to consider it, brother, as all Argentia states signed the Treaty, save Acrum, Utaris, and the elves of the Eastern Reaches. Even the Sultans of the Anatol Isles agreed …do it!”
Caden nodded and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, under section …”
“3.2,” Gwyneth whispered.
“…3.2 of the Treaty of Argentia,” Caden continued, “I demand, as the highest ranking Glamorgan official present, to an immediate parlay with King Coel.”
The pounding stopped. “Are you serious? Stop playing games; you only make it harder on yourself.”
“You heard me; it is the law. Relay my words to the king.”
Though the swearing on the other side of the door increased, the pounding stopped.
“We’ve bought a few moments, maybe, so let’s decide how to approach this,” Gwyneth said. “What could cause King Coel to do this?”
“We find out soon, no doubt, but since we are being treated as criminals, some treachery or betrayal has happened.”
“Yes, good,” Gwyneth answered. “Let’s assume something has happened which causes Coel to name us enemies. We must listen to his grievance, and try to rebut it, however …this will not end well for us, brother. We must accept that we will not escape this unscathed.”
“You sound like father, and,” Caden said, “you aren’t exactly inspiring confidence in me, either.”
“I need you to focus on cutting losses and seeking attainable goals. Since we won’t talk our way out of this, we must seek an outcome which sets one of us free to flee to Celyn for help. So …demand a full trial, offer me as a good faith hostage, and get Coel to agree to let you to take Roni, Cami and Lali back to Celyn.”
“NO! I won’t sacrifice you! I’ll die before I-”
“-It’s not like it has a snowball’s chance in Tartaros of succeeding. As far as cards to play, we have deuces,” Gwyneth said. “Our men are in irons, I imagine, and Father doesn’t expect us home for days, so no help is coming.”
“Perhaps Coel’s love of his daughter could sway him?” Caden said. “If she were to ask for his mercy and temperance, we might avoid serious harm until we are able to unravel this mystery.”
“She loves you that much?" Gwyneth said. "She would stand up to her father and demand this? Are you sure?”
“Yes! For me Avila would-”
Three slow pounds on the door interrupted them and a voice filtered through.
“His majesty, King Coel, has arrived,”
Then another voice. “Caden? You will pay for your treachery.”
“King Coel, under the Treaty of Argentia I demand a parlay-”
“We are parlaying now, boy. Open this door and surrender.”
“What wrong are we accused of?” Caden said. “I demand to know.”
“You demand nothing.” Coel hissed. “But, I make you this offer. Surrender to me now. Submit to my judgment, I will allow your sisters to return Glamorgan immediately.”
“How can I trust you to keep your word?” Caden said.
Coel barked a laugh. “That my men did not batter the door down and flood arrows into your room is your assurance.”
“Take me with you,” Rhonwen said, stepping next to Caden. “I can be useful in a fight.”
“I don’t want to take any of you with me but…” Caden shook his head. “Gwyneth, you’ve got a clear head, would you-”
“Yes, of course I will go with you, brother. Now, give your saber to Roni. She will guard Cami and Lali and, if we don’t return…”
“I escape and ride for help.” Rhonwen said, balancing the blade and sweeping it through the air.
“You try my patience, Prince.” Coel’s said. “Accept my terms, now, or suffer - all of you!”
His sisters gathered around with tears in their eyes. “You know I love you so much-”
“Shhh, we know,” Carme said, “we know.”
“May Selene grant you the mercy to come back to us alive,” Laelia said, kissing him on his cheek.
“I accept," Caden shouted to the door. :I’m coming out, and Princess Gwyneth comes with me as witness.”
“Excellent. Prepare to meet your fate, Prince Caden.”
“This letter is a fraud. My father has no love of King Grithra and would NEVER consider an alliance with him. You must believe me!”
King Coel held up his hand. “Prince Caden, you speak as though this were a hearing, where evidence is presented and verdicts debated. It is not. You stand before my counselors to receive punishment.”
Caden scanned the faces of the officials before him, Parasian generals, ministers, advisors, the king, and …Princess Avila. They sat around a large hollow circle, with Caden and Gwyneth standing in the center.
“Ask for mediation,” Gwyneth whispered in his ear. “Someone neutral, the …King of Pavnor or better, the Selene high priestess Cunedda.”
“King Coel, I request this matter be submitted to mediation, for an impartial verdict. I propose-”
“SILENCE. No more statesman tricks. You agreed to submit to my sentence, yet now I hear a coward's retraction.”
“We are out of options, brother.” Gwyneth whispered again. “Play the mercy card. Appeal to Avila for her to intervene …and pray to Selene.”
“I cannot read her face; it looks set in stone,” Caden whispered back. Then he cleared his throat.
“Avila. Love. You know my heart. You know I would not betray you nor could I ever send you into the hands of King Gritha. Plead my cause to your father. Ask him to stay his hand until this matter may be unraveled. Please …for me …for our love.”
“Well, daughter? Shall I show Prince Caden clemency, for you? Tell me your wish and I will grant it.”
Avila sat silent beside her father, wearing no expression on her face.
Then her lip curled.
“He that would betray me is no love of mine. The punishment you have arranged will be …perfect.”
“Avila! Love! I didn’t betray-”
“-NEVER speak that word to me again.” She turned to Coel. “Let it happen here and now, for me father. Please?”
Gwyneth draped hers around her brother.
“She is a snake!” Gwyneth whispered. “I’m so sorry. I worried about her; we all did.”
“I …I loved her,” Caden stammered, “…and I thought she-“
“Princess Gwyneth, you must move now,” Coel said.
“No! I stand with my brother!”
“Touching, but you will not want to be where you are in a moment. Guards!”
“Stay brave, brother! Whatever he has planned, I don’t think he will have you executed. That would bring the Glamorgan Hammer down on him for sure.”
Once the guards led Gwyneth to the side of the room, Coel motioned to someone.
“Wizard Faolá¡n! Come forward!”
As the hooded wizard made his way to the king, Malavet stood from his seat.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t understand. We agreed the Prince was to go free and Princess Gwyneth was to be sent as hostage to King Grithra.”
“Patience, Malavet. A Glamorgan princess will be given as hostage to Arcum, just not the one you expected. Begin, Faolá¡n.”
Faolá¡n lowered his head to the king. “Once more I beg you, do not ask me to use my powers this way. What you propose is complicated and dangerous-”
“Silence!” Coel said, raising his right hand; in it, he held a scepter with a blue glowing orb. “DO IT!”
Faolá¡n clutched his collar, doubled over, and screamed. Only after the blue of the orb dulled was he able to stand. The young wizard stumbled to within a pace of Caden,
“He forces me," Faolá¡n gasped. "Yet, if you planned the treachery against Avila they accuse you of, you deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Caden said.
“You poor poor fool," Faolá¡n said, raising his staff. "You find out..."
...NOW!
End Part 3.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
duty and destiny - part 4
by armond
Jaussen rides hard to Westfalon to try to thwart Arcum’s plots and avert war. But …is he too late? For the wizard Faolá¡n has begun chanting the invocation of unmaking …upon Caden.
“Jaussen, friend, you look ready to collapse on your feet. Matters are never as dire as the young paint them. Trust an old man; this will wait til the morning light. Eat, drink, and rest, or if you are inclined, clean up and attend Princess Avila’s Winter Ball this evening.”
“Arrgh!” Jaussen slammed his saddle pack on the older man’s table, threw open the worn leather flap, and drew out a parchment. “Before you speak one more word, General Gares, READ.”
Gares put down his long pipe and patted around his shirt. “Blast! Where are my spectacles? Cursed things!”
“Um, General? They are in your …hair.”
Gares snorted, and lowered his glasses to rest on his nose. “You’ve no doubt heard people talk of how old age is the time to enjoy the fruits and wines of a life’s work? Complete nonsense! Enjoy youth while you can, young man,”
“Please sir, “Jaussen growled, “the document.”
“Fine fine.”
Gares lowered his head to look at the parchment. After several moments, he looked up.
“Is this a joke? If so, it is in poor taste, by the gods! In his letter to King Grithra, King Rhys proclaims he would rather ally with a Pavnor jackass. His descriptions of Grithra become much more …um …colorful …after that.”
“I suspect —I fear- you will find another Rhys to Grithra letter has been given to King Coel recently. In it, King Rhys proposes an alliance between Glamorgan and Arcum, and states he will deliver Princess Avila to Grithra as a hostage.”
“What? That must not be! For war will surely-” Gares paused. “Did you just say Arcum’s army was mustering?”
“Ah, you start to see it. But hold the thought a moment, sir,” Jaussen said. “You know Glamorgan has always been friend to Parasia; this is why I sought you out. You will find the signatures of both letters to be in all ways identical; neither of which were signed by King Rhys. Rather, they were writ by the scribner Syner of Kotugul.”
Gares’ his jaw dropped. “Forgeries!”
“Yes,” Jaussen nodded. “King Grithra’s spy, Fermin, may have passed it to someone with influence and access to King Coel; you must take this letter to him to show both as frauds. Lives depend on it.”
“I’m afraid you overestimate my influence, Jaussen. Since I retired two winters ago, minister Malavet has the king’s ear and…” Gares’ mouth stopped moving and his eyes widened.
“What? What of Malavet?”
“I still have eyes and ears in the court, and received word not an hour ago that there have been a series of closed door meetings between Malavet and the King. The last involved Princess Avila and a young wizard named Faolá¡n. I assumed they planned some special show this evening, fireworks or some such. But now…”
“I’ve a bad feeling about this, sir. Fermin’s plans have become simple indeed. Drive a wedge between Glamorgan and Parasia, and then attack us; first one, then the other; he aims to rule all the Western Reaches.”
“By Selene we must stop this!”
Jaussen slapped his hand on Gares’ shoulder. “You have credits still with your king, for it was you who held insane Amangons at bay until the Selenes could kill him. Seek out the king.”
Jaussen closed up his saddle bag and flung it over his shoulder.
“Show him this letter. Bid him stay his hand until the truth comes out. Lives …and kingdoms …are at stake.”
“I will go to him. Will you not accompany me?”
“I have …other business to attend to,” Jaussen said, shaking his head. He opened the door to the general’s cottage. “Don't fail, General.”
“…what …is …happening…?” Caden moaned.
“I don’t know,” Faolá¡n said through gritted teeth. "The chant of unmaking is not supposed to work this way."
He placed his both hands on his staff and pointed touched it to Caden’s forehead.
Caden moaned louder. A blue energy jolt traveled from Caden down Faolá¡n’s staff and into his hands. He shreiked and dropped the staff. The swirling vortex expanded and brightened, enclosing the two. Gwyneth screamed her brother’s name.
Faolá¡n grabbed his staff and crawled to his feet.
“This is wrong!”
He pointed the crystal tip of the staff at the prince once more.
Blue sparks outlined Caden’s body, floating him off the ground. The vortex spinning increased, blowing gale force winds that toppled the tables and sent everyone scrambling for cover.
“By Selene, you have the talent!” Faolá¡n said. “Curse me to Tartaros! What a novice’s mistake I have made! Your natural power resists the spell!”
“What ...spell ?” Caden groaned through chattering teeth. “What ...are ...you ...doing ...to ...me?”
The vortex grew to tornado proportions, firing random blue bolts into the room.
“The power builds too fast! I’M LOSING CONTROL! Stop fighting it or we will die!” Faolá¡n yelled.
“Then ...we ...die” Caden cried, his body now outlined in bright blue light. “my ...conscience ...is ...clear …is ...yours?”
“No! I mean, I …I haven’t lived at all, save as a slave! Don’t kill me before my life has started!” Faolá¡n said. “I beg you!
The palace foundations shook, sending tremors that split rafters and cracked floors. Above the vortex’s howl, Caden heard Gwyneth scream his name again; he yelled back,
“Gweni! Run!”
“SHE DIES TOO!” Faolá¡n shouted. “All will, unless …Prince! GIVE YOURSELF TO THE POWER!”
Caden’s body glowed so bright a blue, Faolá¡n could not look at him. He shielded his eyes, to see the Prince scream the words:
i ...surrender ...to ...Selene...
Faolá¡n’s eyes shot skyward. “Help me Holy Selene! Guide my hand, for I have not the power to do this without you!”
He struggled to raise his staff once more. And again he spoke the words:
The vortex narrowed and narrowed, until it cocooned Caden only, whirling faster and faster. Then, with thunder crack and blinding flash, the vortex vanished, leaving silence.
Faolá¡n peered at the destruction:
Scorch marks covered the floor and ceiling from blue lighting hits. Cries and whimpers crawled from rubble that used to be tables and chairs.
And in the room’s center, lay a figure, bathed in blue light.
A woman.
Faolá¡n knelt beside her and gently rolled her to her back.
She was naked, but for a strip of shredded white sash that covered her breasts.
Luscious black hair splayed on the floor to frame her face. Her red rose lips were parted just enough to let a small sigh escape.
When her delicate black eyelashes fluttered open for a moment, Faolá¡n looked into sparkling blue eyes.
“Oh my Goddess!” Faolá¡n gasped:
“You are the most beautiful creature in the world!”
“What are you doing with our sheets?”
“Tying them together,” Rhonwen said. She had shed her ball gown for dark slacks and shirt.
“Duh! I meant what are you going to do with them once they are tied together?” Carme said.
“I can’t stand being cooped up here, blind to what’s happening. I’ve watched out our window, and there are no guards patrolling below.”
“Why would they? We are three stories up!” Carme said. “You’d be crazy to-”
“-Caden said for you to guard us,” You cannot disobey him and leave us-”
“-You’ll fall to your death!” Laelia said. “You’re insane to even think-”
“Shut up! I hate it when you two start ganging up like that; no one ever gets a word in. I just want a look around. ”
Rhonwen tied the makeshift ‘rope’ to a wooden bedpost, opened the window and lowered it.
“Oops, looks like I’m a few feet short. Aw well.” She turned to her sisters. “When I whistle, pull this back in. When you hear my second whistle, lower it and I’ll climb back up.”
“But what happens if the guards come looking for you?” Laelia said. “What will we tell them?”
“Selene help me! You sound like a soppy Parasian maid! Throw some pillows under a comforter and tell ‘em I’m sick.”
Rhonwen shimmed out the window and started to lower herself. She popped her head back in. “You are Glamorgan women! Start acting like it and use your heads!”
“Going somewhere …Princess Rhonwen?”
“Um, yes. As a matter of fact, I’m meeting …my lover-”
“Save your silly excuses; I will not let you disrupt my plans. I’m taking you back to our Parasian friends. I’m sure they will be most appreciative. ”
“Your Parasian friends?” Rhonwen stepped a pace away from the man. “So you are not from Westfalon then?”
“Er, no, I didn’t say that-”
“And your accent …you are from Arcum, aren’t you? Interesting.”
“And you are too smart for your own good, girl. Now shut up and come with me.”
The man grabbed for Rhonwen, who stepped aside and spun a kick into his side, producing an ooof!”
“You’ll pay for that,” the man said, drawing a sword.
“Nice,” Rhonwen answered. She reached behind her head and pulled Caden’s saber from where she had strapped it to her back.
“Oh look! I’ve got one too.”
“Stop playing, girl, and drop it, or I will hurt you.”
“Take it from me,” Rhonwen smiled, whipped her long auburn hair behind her back, and raised the saber to en garde position.
The man laughed, then lunged. Rhonwen parried, riposted, then stabbed the man …in his heart.
After he fell to the ground, she pulled the saber out and stood over him.
“As you wished, sir, I stopped ‘playing.’”
A clapping sound behind her made her jump, and she whirled, to see a second cloaked man, with hands raised.
“Impressive sword work, Princess. But …what do you plan to do with the body? When killing someone, it’s always a factor to consider.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you suggest, stranger?”
“Lucky for us, I have brought men who can help.”
The man made a signal with his hand, then threw off his hood.
“Jaussen! Gods, am I glad to see you!” Rhonwen said.
“Likewise, Princess. And …I am in awe, too. Do you know who this man is …er, was?”
When Rhonwen shook her head, he continued. "Before you lies Gritha’s slipperiest spy, the great Fermin. Killed by a woman. Heh!”
Rhonwen’s sword rose lightning fast. “You say that as if you are surprised.”
“Er, I meant no offense,” Jaussen said, stepping away, but laughing too. “Lads? I may be in need of saving.”
Several young men came running up. They stopped, and bowed their heads to Rhonwen.
“You’ve sprung our men?”
“I thought it prudent. Now, while these fine young men —with all due reverence- drag mister Fermin to the river for a modified ‘burial at sea,’ why don’t you tell me what in Tartaros is going on.”
Faolá¡n whipped off his robe and covered the unconscious woman. Gwyneth was first to vault from the rubble to reach her.
“Oh gods, Caden,” Tears fell down her face as she took the girl's head in her hands. She looked up at the wizard and sobbed, “You’ve change him to this? Why?”
“Because I ordered him to; because he ...no, she ...deserved,” King Coel answered. He addressed Faolá¡n. “You fool! You could have killed us all!”
Coel, Avila and his many of his council men gathered wide-eyed and open mouthed around Gwyneth and her new sister.
“She is beautiful" Coel hissed, "I told you to fashion her into a hag!”
“It was in Selene’s hands.” Faolá¡n answered.
“Hmm. Perhaps ...this is better. I doubt high Priestess Cunedda did better when she transformed Prince Owain into Rose Red. As a beauty, she will be vulnerable and oh-so-tempting to the Arcum scum. Yes, perhaps this way is better. Let me see if the rest of Princess Caden is as pretty as her face.
When he reached for Faolá¡n’s robe, Gwyneth slapped it away.
“Keep your putrid hands off him,” Gwyneth said. “You will pay for what you have done, I swear it!”
“You are mistaken, Princess. This is payment —justice- for what King Rhys and Prince Caden tried to do.”
King Coel stood up and looked out a chamber window; the sun dipped low on the horizon. He turned to Avila.
“The evening is here, daughter and you have a ball that starts soon.”
“But Father!” Avila answered, as she wrenched her eyes from the woman on the floor, “surely we must cancel it now.”
“Oh no,” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it. In fact, we shall have excellent entertainment. Princess Caden will be leaving in a prison cart for her trip to Arcum. As hosts, it would be polite if everyone at the ball came to wish her farewell.”
“Ha! Now that would be fun!” Avila said.
“You would humiliate her in front of all?” Gwyneth said. “You are more twisted than Grithra could ever be!”
“Your father should not have crossed me. Now he learns exactly what kind of enemy I make."
Coel turned to one of his nearbyu officers. "Captain Isla! Have your men take Princess Gwyneth to her room and confine her there; she and her sisters are to leave for Glamorgan at morning’s light. Oh what a tell they shall tell to King Rhys; I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that discussion."
Coel turned his gaze back to the Caden; her soft breath making here breasts rise and fall so slightly. He stroked his chin.
"Also Captain, muster an escort for Princess Caden; she is to leave for Arcum later tonight, and...”
Coel’s mouth curled to a grin “…have a dress maker brought to the palace.”
“I sorry, did you say …a dress maker?” Avila stammered.
“If your former fiancée is to attend your Ball," the king's head bobbed. "She must be clothed in the finest of gowns.”
"I like this more and more," Avila said. "Tell me how it will happen."
"Yes, let me set the stage," Coel said, bubbling. "In two hours time, couch after couch will arrive, each more regal than the last. The crowd grows, cheering as our noblewomen strut their finest gowns upon the red carpet."
Avila clapped her hands. "I so love this part of the night! The pageantry! The competition!"
"Exactly, my sweet. Now, imagine this, instead of ornate couch, a prison wagon ambles up; its bars covered by sheets. The crowd murmurs - what mystery is this?"
"ooo! yes! yes!" squealed Avila. "And painted on the wagon, a sign: "within lies Caden, former prince of Glamorgan."
"Then you regally walk to the wagon, pull off the sheet, and display the 'princess' for all to see."
Avila laughed and threw her arms around her father's neck.
"They shall speak of this party throughout all of Argentia, for years and years!"
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duty and destiny
Part 5 by armond But the spy Jaussen and the Glamorgan princesses form alternate plans…
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“Is he …did they kill Caden?”
Gwyneth huddled on the floor, doubled over and weeping.
“Yes! No!” She looked up at her sisters’ worried faces. “I don’t know.”
“It has to be one or the other, Gweni, tell us!” Carme said. “Did they kill him?”
“Kill him? …in a way, they did-”
A whistle sounded outside their window.
“Wait! That’s Roni; she needs to hear this too.”
Gwyneth followed Carme and Laelia to the window and watched them throw down the makeshift rope.
“She didn’t,” Gwyneth hiccupped laughed through her sobs. “I should have known Roni would pull something like this.”
Soon their auburn haired sister tumbled through the window, rolling up to hug Gwyneth. “Gweni! You’re back! Where is Caden?”
“She won’t say; she speaks in riddles,” Carme said.
“Out with it now Roni is here!" Laelia said. "What have they done with him?”
“They …the wizard Faolá¡n, transformed him into… into…”
“Into WHAT?” Rhonwen said. “A stone statue? An animal or-”
“A young lass! As young as you, Carme, I SAW it,” Gwyneth said, breaking into sobs again.
“Holy Selene, this will kill father,” Rhonwen said, clutching her arms around Gwyneth.
“Is she healthy at least?” Carme said quietly. “And …not deformed?”
“Deformed? No, beautiful …like the painting of mother when she was young,” Gwyneth said. “Coel claimed Father and Caden betrayed him and planned to kidnap Avila to send her to Arcum as hostage. So he sends the transformed Caden instead in a prison wagon. But first, they will parade her at the Ball like a circus animal.”
“She’s in a prison wagon? Then we must free her and ride for Glamorgan, now!”
The sisters spun to the sound of the speaker, and saw a man crawling in the window.
“Jaussen!” Laelia cried out, as they ran to him. “Can you help Caden? Can you-”
Jaussen held up his hand. “What is done may be perhaps undone, though I have never heard the like of this! Coel will pay; King Rhys will strangle him! But now is not the time for revenge.”
He looked out the window, and saw nothing but the evening dark.
“Good. No one is alerted still, and our men are well hid. Pray to Selene our luck holds a while longer.”
He turned back to the Princesses and crossed his arms.
“What I do know, is we must get you …and Caden …out of here! War is coming, and the only safe place is in Ceyln. A coach waits on the edge of the city. Everyone will be distracted by Avila’s ball and darkness is our ally.”
“But what of Caden? How will we rescue him?” Rhonwen said.
“Her,” Gwyneth said, shaking her head. “Having seen her miraculous transformation, and naked body, I can in no way refer to her as man. When last I saw her, she was unconscious but breathing deep.”
Jaussen paced the floor.
“The Guard detail will be light —I hope- as everyone prepares for Avila’s Ball. Since the shift change at the stockade won’t happen for several hours, the alarm for our men’s’ escape won’t sound yet a while. By Selene we have enough time to …”
The broad-shouldered spy turned to Rhonwen.
“Your swordsmanship is amazing, Princess, but how are you with the more subtle arts?”
“Excuse me?” Rhonwen said.
“Though I suspect the guard detail will be no more than three or four, a direct assault is risky. You’ve a cool head, I have seen it. If her captors could be distracted by a …beautiful woman …I might be able to, uh, quietly subdue them.”
“Why Jaussen! You’ve managed to compliment my intellect and my looks; how efficient of you,” Rhonwen grinned. “How would you ‘quietly subdue them’ ?”
“I’ve a cache of potent blow darts from the Anatol Isles in my saddle pack. A single dart can drop a Nglal in his tracks,” Jaussen said. “So you’d consider it?”
“I will do anything to free my brother,” She glanced at Gwyneth, “Er, sister, I mean-”
“-We know what you mean,” Gwyneth said, taking her sister’s hands and squeezing them. “I know I can’t talk you out of this, so be careful.”
“I will,” Rhonwen said, and turned to Jaussen and bowed her head.
“We owe you, sir. You have risked much and do so again for us,” she said, and took his hand. “King Coel will kill you if you fall into his hands.”
“No thanks are needed, Princess, I do so for country and king. And,” he added, “don’t call me sir; I am but a handful of years older than you.”
Rhonwen nodded, and cocked her head. “What do you suggest I wear to distract the guards?”
“Something to show off those legs of yours,” Jaussen answered, as his eyes traveled down her body.”
Rhonwen sauntered to the walk-in closet, but paused before she closed the door. “Remember, what I wear is meant to distract the guards; I need you concentrating on saving Caden.”
“That may be hard,” Jaussen muttered, then turned to the remaining sisters.
“You must change into riding clothes, my Princesses, and ready to leave, but …give me your ball gowns. They might yet see the party tonight, even if you will be faraway, riding hard to blessed Glamorgan.”
16.
“Lord and Lady Kosota!”
Applause erupted as a gold-trimmed white carriage rolled up, pulled by a team of milky Anatolian horses.
The Parasian crowd had grown so large, it spilled from the Great Palace Hall entrance onto the lawn. Not even the chill winter night could dampen the crowd’s mood, for a rumor had spread of a special surprise from their King. The smell of hot cider and fiddlers’ notes that wafted from inside raised spirits as well.
“White coach and horses; how drool, how last Ball,” Avila said, through her too wide smile.
“The Duke and Duchess of Estius!”
A carriage, dripping in red velvet and ornate brass flourishes, pulled to stop to the cheers of the partiers.
Avila clapped her hands. “Now that is more like it!”
“You show a face of one having fun, daughter, but are you,” Coel said “Only hours ago we were set announce your betrothal.”
“I am over Caden; I am fine. Better,” Avila said, twirling one of her blond locks with a finger. “Lieutenant Ruben and Captain Vanlier have asked to dance with me.”
“But save a dance for me,” Coel said.
“Always, Father.” Avila said. “Speaking of Caden, when will our newest princess arrive?”
“Patience! You are like a child before yuletide.”
Avila stood with the king at the Palace Hall doorway, greeting the nobility as the arrived. To Coel’s left stood Malavet, dressed in a white minister’s uniform, with silver epilates on his shoulder.
To his right stood Faolá¡n, dressed in a gaudy robe covered in stars. The king had ordered him to wear it; he wanted his subjects to know he controlled a wizard.
Faolá¡n gave the robe no thought at all; Caden’s gorgeous face filled his mind.
“I can’t stand it,” Avila whined. “I’m going to wait with Cordia and Eleonor by the curb.”
“Fine, go.” Coel sighed. “Try not to pee on yourself when the wagon arrives.
“Father!” Avila glared at him before running to her friends.
“Your highness!” General Gares said, passing the squealing princess on his way to the king. His red formal infantry uniform was laden with medals from Parasia’s wars with King Amangons. “I must speak with you on a matter of the highest urgency.”
“Er, cannot it wait, my general?” Coel said. “At least until the after tonight’s festivities?”
“No sir, it cannot. Read this.” Gares handed him the letter.
Coel sighed, and held the letter to a nearby torch for light. After he read several sentences, he looked up at the general, uncertain whether he should be laughing or angry.
“I never realized you had such a jovial sense of humor, general,” Coel said.
“I have none at all, sir.”
The king handed the letter to Malavet, who scanned it.
“This is absurd! Rhys would never write such a letter to Gritha; it would be diplomatic suicide.”
“Yet, see? King Rhys’ hand written name sits at the bottom.”
“A forgery, obviously,” Malavet said. “Where did you get this?”
“Interesting that,” Gares smiled. “It was scribed by the same hand that wrote the letter you showed to the king earlier today. Compare the two. You will find the signatures match precisely; the Kotugul Scrivener that wrote them does fine work.”
“Lies!” Malavet hissed. “This is a trick!”
A murmur ran through the crowd; a prison wagon was rolling its way down the entrance circle. A boy sat atop the creaky wagon, waving to the crowd.
Faolá¡n stepped forward and spoke to Gares. “Are you saying Prince Caden was innocent? If so, I have worked the greatest crime!”
“The general is in league with Arcum,” Malavet said. “It is the only answer.”
“He is our greatest living hero. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t,” the king said. He turned to Faolá¡n. “Is there nothing you can do to resolve this? Some magic spell to get to the truth of the matter?”
Faolá¡n stroked his chin. There existed no such spell, but they didn’t know that.
“I know a simple one.” He brought his staff forward. “Gentlemen, lay your hands on the crystal tip of my staff and say ‘I speak truth.’”
“That is it?” Coel said. “What will happen?”
“If the speaker’s words are true …nothing.”
“And if they are false?”
Faolá¡n shrugged. “Then the speaker dies.”
Gares hand shot over the crystal orb. “I speak truth.”
After as moment, he took it off and looked at the king. “You see?”
The king turned to Malavet. ‘Well, minister?”
Malavet jumped away from Faolá¡n’s staff.
“My intent in the ruse was pure, Majesty. I did this to prevent a war; a high ranking Arcum agent told me if Caden and Avila wed, Grithra would attack Parasia as a preemptory strike.”
“The letter was a fraud and you knew it?” Coel stammered. “But then …Caden-”
“-Oh Selene forgive me!” Faolá¡n cried.
“You fool!” Gares growled at Malavet. “Arcum’s forces muster to attack us as we speak. I pray to the gods your actions haven’t caused a rift with Glamorgan when we need them most! What have you done to Caden? Is he locked in our stockade?”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Avila’s voice rang out in the cold air. She stood before the wagon with her hand grasping the sheet. “As you know Prince Cadon and I were to announce formally our engagement tonight. The prince, however …sought to betray Parasia …and sell me into Arcum bondage.”
Anger murmurs rose from the crowd, and they gathered closer to the wagon.
“Stop her, king! End this tragedy!” Faolá¡n said. “Do not make Caden suffer more,”
“What have I done?” King Coel’s eyes turned glassy. “What do I do?”
“Yet the deceitful prince’s plans were discovered,” Avila continued, “and your king devised the most delightful punishment. The wizard Faolá¡n’s magic transformed prince to princess, and she will travel to Arcum in my place.”
“Is this true?” Gares gasped. “If so, we are doomed; Glamorgan’s calvary will thunder upon us before Arcum has a chance!”
“Stop! Stop!” Faolá¡n tried to push his way to the wagon, but the crowd was too thick.
“Behold, I give you Princess Caden!” Avila said, and ripped the cover sheet away from the prison wagon’s windows.
The crowd gathered closer, and soon laughter arose. Above it, Avila screeched:
“What is the meaning of this?”
For on the wagon’s side was painted: Princess Avila’s Bridesmaids.
Inside lay four men —two bearded- unconscious, and each wore a ball gown of differing hue.
“I can’t stop looking at her. It isn’t possible; I feel like we’ve left our brother back in Westfalon.”
Laelia brushed a strand of rich black hair from the sleeping girl’s face, an action she had done many times since their hard run to Glamorgan started hours ago. The coach hit another bump, sending the sisters crashing into one another.
“Must we ride so fast?” Carme said. “At this pace, either our horses will drop or the coach will fly apart.”
“Didn’t Jaussen say he asked General Gares to clear Caden of the fake charges?” Laelia said. “Maybe they aren’t even following,”
“Oh, they’re following; I feel it,” Rhonwen said, looking out the coach flap. A light snow had started falling.
“We must assume so,” Gwyneth said. “Even if the general was successful, Coel will want us back. Once he realizes the wrong he has committed, he will be desperate to grasp a shield from Father’s wrath. Holding us captive is his best option.”
The coach smacked a boulder, knocking the sisters around again. Caden’s eyelashes fluttered open, showing eyes that sparkled blue.
“Where …am …I?”
Her voice was so soft -and unexpected- that the sisters were speechless for a moment.
“C-caden? Sweetie…” Carme took her hands. “How do you feel?”
“sooo strange…” she answered in a soprano pitch. “Blue light swirls round my mind, and there’s a beautiful woman there too, talking to me …singing to me. She sings the way Mom did when I was a kid.”
Her eyes closed, and she leaned against Carme’s shoulder. Rhonwen nudged her.
“Caden? Are you still with us?”
Caden’s eyes opened again. “Why is everything …bouncing?”
“You are …sick, honey, and we are rushing you back to Celyn to …see our healers.”
Caden’s eyes widened and became luminous; she gripped Rhonwen’s arm. “Llamrei! Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”
“Sssh, Don’t worry. Llamrei rides with us; Jaussen leads her.”
Caden let out a soft sigh and lapsed into unconsciousness; they could not rouse her again.
“Well, Lali?” Gwyneth said.
“Well what?”
“Any doubts now?”
Laelia shook her head.
“Her first thoughts were of her horse; she’s Caden alright.”
“Trouble,” Rhonwen said, and popped open the coach door to hop out.
Snow crunched under her feet as she hit the ground. When she oriented north she saw the Kibane forest a mile or so to her right and the Llanad Plateau looming in the distance to her left. Jaussen came cantering to her on his dapple-gray mount.
When he threw back his hood, she saw steam rising from his sweaty head.
“I’d ask you to get back in the coach, but you would no doubt refuse, and …we could use an extra sword.”
Rhonwen’s eyes narrowed. “Company?”
Jaussen nodded. “A mounted Parasian platoon, 25 or more; they double our numbers.”
“Can we outrun them?”
The dark-haired man shook his head. “They are half a league back and our horses are spent. We should face them here where we have scrub oak cover. We are still half a dozen hours from the Glamorgan border, and will be easy prey when we reach the Caldawy Flats.”
“Well then, what do you suggest?” Rhonwen scanned the landscape. “An ambush?”
“I love the way you think!” Jaussen grinned as he vaulted off his horse. “A pitch fight should be our last resort. I won’t risk any of your lives. How are you with a bow?”
“Better than you; why?”
“Ha! We’ll see.” Jaussen said. “If a few of us could pine them down for a while, we might delay long enough for help to arrive.”
“You expect help?” Rhonwen said, putting her hand on her hip.
“I expect nothing,” Jaussen said, “but I do have hope. Before I rode to Westfalon, I sent my falcon to Celyn with a message telling them you all were in danger. If my message reached them, then they are overdue.”
“How much time do we need to buy?” Rhonwen said.
Jaussen shrugged. “An hour? Ten? A week? I have no way of knowing. As I said, it is a hope.”
“Hmm. I suggest a different tact. We can’t ‘pin them down’ for more than an hour or two. If you want serious stalling time …let Gweni negotiate with them.”
“You are serious?” Jaussen said.
“Absolutely!” Rhonwen nodded. “She knows the law better than a pack of Father’s chancellors. And her tongue is so smooth, she could convince you to build a bridge where there is no river. The only way I win an argument with her is if it involves physical violence.”
The Captain nodded. “Yes, for the tenth time, yes. He said there was a …misunderstanding …and felt terrible for the way your visit ended. He wishes your return so he can make amends.”
“Yes, yes, I understand that part; it is most …gracious and sweet …of King Coel to offer this. Where I struggle …due no doubt to my limited female brain, is your statement that we are guests. Let me clarify …we are not charged with a crime?”
“Again. no, princess,” Tyron sighed. “None at all. So now that is cleared, let us depart for-“
“-Yet we are not free to continue to Celyn if we wish?” Gwyneth said.
“Er …no …King Coel has given me explicit orders to bring you and your-”
“-King Coel’s position expressly violates the Treaty of Viriatona; is it your wish to provoke a diplomatic incident?”
“Treaty of Viriatona?” Tyron scratched his balding head.
Gwyneth smiled. “But surely you know of it! It holds, among other tenants, that each person (1) has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each signatory country, and (2) has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.
“That is your interpretation, I am sure, but-”
“No no, it is fact. Let me recite Article 12 to you in its entirety.”
“That’s quite alright, princess-”
“-I insist good captain,” Gwyneth said, holding up her hand. *Ahem*
“…Article 12, Concerning Freedom of Movement. 12.1 As used in this Article, “Natural Right of Movement” shall mean…”
Some fifty long minutes later, Gwyneth halted her recitation, at the approach of thundering horse hoofs from the west.
“Ah! That would be the 2nd Company of the Glamorgan Calvary. Do you wish me to continue? Or …do you now concur with my position that, as guests, we should be permitted to continue on our way?”
Tyron eyed the 100 men who sat on horseback before him; members of the finest Cavalry in the Western Reaches.
“Er ...no, I …see your point and …unless you wish to return with us, we will be on our way.”
Gwyneth stood and bowed to the captain. “Thank you …but no, for we travel on to Celyn.”
Jaussen doubled over in laughter as the Parasian platoon rode away. “Princess Gwyneth, I doubt we needed the 2nd Company. Your position on the Treaty of Viriatona was as spectacular as it was time consuming.”
“Yes, thanks for that. Now if the treaty actually existed…” Gwyneth said, but her smile was sad. She turned to the men before her.
“Good sirs, I thank you for your service. We must take joy from what little victories we find, for dark days have come. Arcum raises a mighty war machine to the south, our Parasian allies have cast us aside, and we bear the most tragic news to our father the king.”
She turned and looked to the Glamorgan highlands, shimmering in the distance.
“Gentleman …take us home.”
End Part 5.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
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duty and destiny
part 6 by armond Yet all is not lost; help and hope may come from an unexpected source. |
“The fellow's a scribbler for sure,” Vaego muttered, “and why do you suppose he writes so much?”
The squatty man edged closer, lurking in the shadows of a council chamber pillar. Vaego once was told he had the refinement of a prowling crocodile, and he didn't disagree; he knew the toothy predators were graceful indeed when they killed.
Vaego’s eye had been on this man for some days; his mark was a bald-headed attaché to General Baurdu, and wrote furiously as King Gritha's officers gave their reports.
“Facts are sketchy, Sire, since we lost contact with Fermin days ago, but this we know: some incident has indeed occurred to cause a rift between King Rhys and King Coel, for Glamorgan recalled its Parasia ambassador, and booted King Coel’s envoy out of Celyn. And finally, Prince Caden has mysteriously vanished.”
“You are sure of this, Captain Faro,” Gritha said, stroking his prominent chin. “For I must know, and this information —the divorcing of allies- is the trigger. Since insane Amangons’ deadly invasions, I have waited for the moment when Acrum controlled its destiny. We can no longer simply hope our neighbors behave rationally. We will ensure they do. In time, the Parasians and Glamorgans may appreciate the stability of our rule and think of this as a liberation. So again I say, are you certain?”
When Faro nodded, Grithra followed with his standard Hmmm. “Anything further, Captain?”
“Only this: General Gares has come out of retirement, and now recalls the Parasian reserves.”
“Blast! The first sensible move Coel has made in eons,” Gritha said, frowning. “Time works against us, for the longer we give Gares to mobilize, the worse our chances become. Next report; Colonel?”
“Sire,” Colonel Shalean said, bowing. “Operation Black Hook is primed. The remaining elements of Amangon’s Black Brigade have integrated with our own elite forces and the new unit is now a potent strike force. If we draw the main body of the Parasian army deep into the Drachill Basin, the Brigade will land at Corwell Bay and deliver a crushing blow to their rear guard, which…”
Vaego saw the scribbler's note taking ratchet to fevered pitch during Shalean's report.
“Interesting indeed.”
After the briefing ended, Vaego followed the man to a small apartment in the seedier side of Kotugul. He stood outside the man's door for a moment, listening, to the sound of coos. It took several moments to understand what the sound meant.
“Tartaro's dogs, those are carrier pigeons!”
Vaego drew his throwing blade and kicked open the door. The man whipped around to face his intruder; a mistake, as it turned out, because Vaego's knife caught him in the throat.
He stood over the Parasian spy and watched, as the man first thrashed wildly clutching his throat, gurgled red, then bled until he was still.
Removing his knife, Vaego wiped it on the man's shirt, and bent over to read the parchment sitting on the desk.
“Assault begins in two days time …beware of trap …surprise attack force to land at Corwell…”
Vaego looked down at the bloody figure. “You sir, write an excellent summary. A shame your superiors won’t receive this to appreciate your writing talents, but, that’s life …or death, in your case. You don’t mind if I keep this do you?”
A grin spread across Vaego’s face. “What a run of luck I’ve had! First my promotion after Fermin’s disappearance, and now this fresh success to add to my resume.”
Cooing drew the Arcum spy’s attention to the birdcages near the apartment window. He walked to the cages and opened them, shaking until the pigeons flew through the window.
He watched them disappear into the northern sky.
“And so the liberation of Parasia begins early.”
The sentinels met before the castle doors at the striking of seven bells; each cloaked and hooded to ward off the cold.
“Who's there?”
“No, answer me; stand, and show yourself.”
“Long live King Rhys!” the relief sentinel said, and threw back his hood.
“Barnardo?”
“He.”
“It’s now struck seven; get to dinner, Francisco, for steamy braised mutton chops and hot mulled wine await you,” Barnardo said.
“For this relief much thanks; it’s bitter cold, and I am heart sick at all the news,” Francisco said.
“Has nothing changed?”
“No mouse stirred to change our fortune; the king has fled the town, and Prince Caden’s fate remains unknown, but…”
Francisco grabbed Barnardo’s arm.
“…if I did not know better, I would say a banshee haunts the prince’s room, for I have heard her shrieks from his window during my entire watch-”
Francisco stopped mid-sentence, for two cloaked figures approached the castle door.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Weary travelers, seeking warmth and hospitality this winter’s eve,” the taller figure answered in a contralto voice.
“Who are you, and what business have you at Castle Celyn?” Barnardo said. The men’s hands now rested on the pommels of their swords.
The taller woman lowered her hood, to show golden hair topped by a silver circlet of crescent moons.
“I am called Cunedda, and we beg an audience with the Princesses of Glamorgan.”
The men blinked. “H-high Priestess Cunedda?” Barnardo stammered.
“That is my title, yes, good sirs,” Cunedda smiled.
“Show our guests in Barnardo; while I fetch the princesses,” Francisco said, running for the stairs.
“You have this backwards; I'm here to help you,” she said, smiling and rubbing her hands together. “Though I could use a cup of tea to drive the chill away. Which means you must rise from the floor this instant; otherwise I won’t get it.”
“Praise Selene for the fortune she sends!” Carme said. “You must help us, for a wizard cast a spell on our brother Caden-”
“-I know well what has happened,” Cunedda said, holding up a hand. “Seven nights ago, the Goddess sent me visions, and told me to come.”
“But …that was before it happened!” Rhonwen said. “Then you can help Caden, to turn her back into-”
Cunedda shook her head. “Selene sent me to help you, not Caden.”
“This makes no sense,” Laelia said. “Caden needs your help, not us!”
“The Goddess was clear in her intent, and it was not for me to aid Caden.” Cunedda said. “She did tell me to bring this fine young herb woman, though, who will help your new sister.”
“What?” Rhonwen said, “No! Caden needs powerful magics to counter this spell, not smelly herbs in a poultice.”
“Hey!” The second woman threw off her hood, which let wine red hair tumble out. She put a hand on a hip and her green eyes flashed.
“Don't you dare mean mouth my herbs! They might not be flashy, but earth magic runs deep.”
Gwyneth gasped “You're ...you must be ...Rose Red!” Gwyneth said.
“The one and only,” Rose said. “Er, at least as far as I know. And …skip the 'Red' part, if you don't mind, cause it seems a little redundant.”
“But that means ...if the rumor is true...” Carme squeaked as she put a hand to her mouth, “you used to be a man, too.”
“My little Rose was indeed,” Cunedda smiled, “which is why, I think, the Goddess told me she was just the man for the job.”
20.
“This is Caden's old …I mean her room,” Carme said, before the closed oaken door.
“Since we returned to Celyn, she neither eats nor sleeps. She covers her windows with blankets so no light enters. She covers herself as well, in a thick black blanket she huddles under, screaming curses at all who enter.”
Rose set her canvas satchel down and pulled out two small cloth bags. She smelled one.
“Mmmm, this should do it,” Rose said. She looked to Gwyneth. “Would you have someone from your kitchen steep this bag in boiling water for thirty two minutes and add this one during the last five?”
“I watched the wizard Faolá¡n spin a blue energy whirlwind around my brother that ripped a hole in a stone floor,” Gwyneth said, “and you would give her a ...tea ...as a cure? What could possibly be in it to defeat that powerful sorcery?”
“Oh, well, it's a secret blend, you know, but there's a bit of Valerian, some Jasmine, a dash of Passionflower, Chamomile, Skullcap and ...Diviner's Sage ...very rare.” Rose handed Gwyneth the bags. “Thirty two minutes, no less, no more.”
“Let's all do this while Rose meets with Caden,” Cunedda said to the sisters. “This does need to be precise and it will give me a chance to speak to you. Will you need anything else daughter?”
“A lamp I expect.” Rose cocked her head. “I wasn't too much trouble when I was changed, right, Mother?”
“No, practically none, Rose,” Cunedda smiled. “Well, except for the part where you wanted to stab me, but instead tried to kill yourself.”
“Ah. Yes. Except for that, I was no trouble at all.”
“Whoever you are …GO! …AWAY!”
Rose waved the lamp around the room to find the young woman. She spotted a four-post bed in a corner, and a dark figure curled on it.
“I'm here to help you.”
“Are you a sorceress?” The shadowy figure sat up. “Can you reverse this curse?”
Rose walked to the bed. “I am an herb woman; let me ease your pain.”
“An herb woman?” Caden barked a laugh. “You think bits of weed will help me? Be gone!”
“I’ve traveled through winter's waste to reach you, Prince Caden. I will not be gone.”
Rose held the light so it fell on Caden's figure.
“No! Take the lamp away, you pig farking pox of a woman!” Caden screamed in her high-pitched voice. She fell to the stone floor and scrambled into the shadows. “Stay away! You have no idea what evil has been done to me.”
“I know exactly what has happened to you.” Rose stalked her. “Look at me.”
“Leave me be! Let me die!”
“Never! I've seen death to last ten lifetimes,” Rose growled. “Look into the light.”
Rose's voice pulled Caden's face to the flaring lamp. The young woman's eyes were red and wild, with dark circles beneath them. Tear marks streaked her face, and her voice was hoarse from screaming.
“Who ARE you?”
“Four years ago, the armies of Acrum, Parasia, and Glamorgan banded to stop King Amangons' legion. They clashed on Mt. Caledonia, where the Glamorgan Cavalry fell as a hammer on Amangons' men. A desperate counter offensive was mounted; the Gwenaá«l Brigade charged the mountainside to gain the high ground.”
“Yes.” Caden's weeping stopped. “…my father told me the story …Prince Owain of the Sorrows led Brigade and almost succeeded, but when Amangons betrayed him and sent no reinforcements, they were overrun, and died to the man...”
Caden blinked as she truly saw the maiden holding the lamp before her.
“...except for the prince ...who was sent to the Selenes …to receive an enchanted punishment meant for Amangons...”
As she stared at hair the color of roses and into vibrant green eyes, her mouth dropped open.
“Oh Goddess,” Caden whispered, “it's you! You're Prince Owain!”
“I was Prince Owain,” Rose smiled. “Now I am Rose Red, a simple herb woman come to help a sister.”
The dumb-struck Caden didn't fight the smaller woman when Rose led her back to bed.
“Now, let me look at you.”
“No! …don't …I can't bear to see ...I'm a monster!”
“Hush,” Rose said, pulling Caden's dark tangled hair out of her face. Next, she drew the black blanket away.
And smiled.
“Monster indeed; Selene has blessed you, sister, you are stunning. Or, would be, if you weren't a little ripe. You need a bath.”
“I neither want to be stunning nor a sister!”
“Yet you are both.”
“What did I do to deserve this? I was falsely accused of a crime and betrayed by the woman I wished to marry. Everything I love is gone, and I am left in this weak husk.”
Caden gripped Rose's arm. "How could the Goddess allow this? Can you tell me? Can you?”
Rose shook her head. “Why does it rain in this field and not that? Why does lightening strike here and not there?”
“That's no answer! Selene could have saved me but she didn't! She hates me! She's evil! Wicked!”
Rose's slap across Caden's face echoed between the stonewalls.
“Snap out of it! I made it through this and so will you!”
Caden's hand flew to her cheek, but she stopped shaking.
“But why? Why me?”
“I am no philosopher,” Rose shrugged. “I tend a garden now. Before that, I was a soldier. If Mother Cunedda were here, she would tell you Selene's gift of free will to man prevents the Goddess from interfering with man's choices. She would also say Selene ever works to soften the pain that befalls us and provides us with many paths.”
“The real question is…” Rose grabbed Caden's shoulders and straightened her up.
“…what will you do now?”
“...and the high council dithers and twiddles their thumbs, unable to pass the simplest resolutions.” Gwyneth said. She, her sisters, and Cunedda were gathered around one of the large black iron kitchen stoves, watching the first bag steep in hot water.
“The military is much the same,” Rhonwen joined in, “for with Father barricading himself in his hunting lodge, his generals are like headless chickens, spinning in circles.”
“Everyone is,” Carme said. “If war is coming, we must be ready. There will be injured soldiers. Refugees seeking shelter. Yet our healers are scattered across the kingdom, hunkered down for the winter.”
“More than that,” Laelia said, “the people have heard the rumblings of war, and of a mysterious tragedy to prince Caden that has driven their king from the city. They need to know someone leads them.”
Cunedda looked from one princess' face to the next and smiled. “That was an excellent briefing, ladies. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean? What can we do about it?” Gwyneth said. “As princesses, our single power seems to involve pushing out screaming little male heirs from between our legs.”
“Oh?” Cunedda put a hand on her hip. “Who says so?”
“Succession has always passed through the males in Glamorgan, though…” Gwyneth's forehead wrinkled. “I cannot recall the specific law establishing it.”
“It's time, don't you think?” Cunedda said.
“What do you mean?” Rhonwen said. “Time we … change this?”
“No, I meant it's time to drop the second bag in the water,” Cunedda said, and did. “But why not? Why don't you?”
“Because we are women and they-”
Carme never finished the sentence, because Cunedda's eyes flashed blue fire; and they felt her energy, her wrath, rising like a hot wind.
“-Yes! We are women. Best to start acting like it, instead of daddy's little girls. If you wait for them to give you power, you will turn old and feeble. Act now! You are Glamorgan Princesses! Your country needs you. The Western Reaches need you! Assume what power you need and let them try to pry it from you!”
The sisters were silent, blinking at one another, until Gwyneth spoke.
“It's that simple? Just …act?
“Nothing could be simpler. But note, I did not say it would be easy.”
Cunedda's eyes returned to normal hue and she took a whiff of the steeping brew.
“Ah. This is ready. Carme, would you put this just inside Caden's door? Rose will take it from there.”
Carme nodded. “How will this brew help change Caden back?”
Cunedda shook her head. “It will not.”
“Then what?” Rhonwen said. “What is its purpose?”
“I will be honest with you about why I came here. Selene has shown me two visions, two possible futures. One, in which the Glamorgan kingdom falls and its people are enslaved and oppressed by Arcum masters.”
“No!” Gwyneth cried. “We cannot allow this-”
Cunedda raised her hand. “In my other vision, I saw the Glamorgan princesses banding together to lead their country through the storm and stop the Arcum invasion. Five princesses, working together.”
“Five? Caden is to be one of us? But she will never-”
Rhonwen stopped, as an 'ah ha!' look crossed her face. “That is why you brought Rose, to help Caden accept what has happened.”
“In all the kingdoms, Rose is uniquely qualified, save perhaps, for the elfin maiden Kiara Esmee,” Cunedda said.
“There had better be powerful magic in this,” Carme said as she grabbed two cups and the teakettle. “Because Caden will kill herself rather than accept what she has become.”
“To be honest, most of the magic is in my little Rose,” Cunedda said with a wink. “I swear the girl has become part wood nymph.”
“But what will this do?”
Rose poured the steaming liquid into a cup and handed it to Caden.
“Sometimes a question can't be tackled head on, but must be approached …sideways.”
“I don't understand,” Caden said, before she sipped the tea. “Blah!”
“Not the tastiest of brews,” Rose said, when she drank from her cup. “Now, I expect your mind is telling you all is lost. Over and over in your brain, you think 'I am cursed, my life is over.'”
“I have thought nothing else since my change,” Caden nodded, managing to down another swallow.
“I was the same. When I first learned the deeper earth magic, I had to close my eyes and feel my way to the essence of the herb I sought. I was constantly smacking into trees…”
Rose rubbed her forehead, making Caden snort.
“…but I found my answers, when the direct didn't work. And I learned a bigger truth, that this,” Rose tapped Caden's head, “doesn't always know best.
“And the tea helps …how?”
“You'll see; it will also give you a good night's rest, which you sorely need.”
“But you drink the tea too. Why?”
“Shhh, no more questions; now lay your head here…” Rose reclined on the bed and drew Caden down so that she lay against her chest. She yawned her next words. “…because this hits really fast.”
Later, Cunedda entered the room, to find them asleep, with Rose cradling Caden close. She covered them with a blanket and stroked Caden's cheek.
“Dream large, Caden, and open yourself to Her.”
Before she blew out the lamp, Cunedda kissed Rose on her head.
“Guide her well, love.”
In the morning, when Cunedda entered Caden's room, she found the young woman bubbling and babbling.
“You are just in time, Mother,” Rose gave Cunedda a sleepy lopsided grin. “Caden has started to tell me of the most amazing dream she had.”
“Yes! Yes! I saw Her! She sang to me!”
“Thrice blessed you are,” Cunedda said, sitting on the bed next them. “Tell me of it.”
It seemed so real! You were there, Rose, and you led me into a grove of mighty oaks. Above us, stars twinkled in the night sky, but they swirled around your head, and I think mine too. That's when I heard Her singing.”
Caden paused, unable to speak, for she heard the music's echo in her head. Tears formed in her eyes.
“I know, love,” Cunedda took her hand. “Once you hear her call, you are never alone, for She is with you, always.”
Caden nodded and turned to Rose. “Then you pointed up, and when I looked, the brightest moon was there, so close I tried to touch it. I blinked, and the moon was gone, but a woman stood before me ...clothed in a robe of blue and silver, wearing a wreath of stars, and …and …Her eyes ...the light ...I ...I don't have words to describe Her.”
“No words can.” Cunedda's eyes glistened. “What happened next?”
“Rose dropped to her knees, and pulled me down too. Then the Goddess kissed her on the head and handed her a dry black rose.”
Caden turned to Rose. “And when you took it in your hands, it was alive! It became most beautiful rose in the world.”
Rose smiled. “And then?”
Caden sighed. “She kissed me, saying, 'you gave yourself to me, daughter, and I am honored. Now show your nature.”
I looked at my hands then; blue sparks surrounded them and they tingled with power. And I knew there was something I needed to do ...longed to do ...but I didn't know what. And then I woke up.”
Caden looked at Rose and Cunedda. “What does this mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Cunedda said.
Caden was silent a moment. “For Rose, it meant she has found her calling; she brings things to life.”
“A fair interpretation,” Cunedda nodded. “And what of your role in the dream?”
“I...” Caden frowned. “There is something I need to learn, isn't there? The Goddess was telling me ...that like Rose, I …have a path to follow.”
Then her shoulders slumped. “In this body. I'm ...not to change back.”
“It would seem so, Caden. You are Goddess called. Having heard her song, can you ignore it?”
“No, it would be easier to stop breathing,” the dark-haired girl shook her head. “But ...how do I ...how do I live like this? I know nothing about being a woman. How did you do it, Rose?”
Rose smiled. “I had a hundred Selenes who were more than happy to prod, poke and pound me. You have the same resources; ask you sisters for help.”
Caden's voice was soft, plaintive. “I didn't want this …I didn't choose this…”
“Yet here you are.”
“I don't know if I can do it. This is going to be so hard.”
“Yes,” Rose answered. “The hardest thing you've ever done. This ecstasy you feel now will fade, and there will be many many days when jumping off a cliff will sound appealing; believe me, I know. But don't.”
“Take it from a fellow former prince.” Rose took Caden's hand in hers and squeezed it. “Something amazing waits for you, if you have the courage to seek it.”
“I…” Caden straightened her back and looked Rose in the eye. “I. will. try... but I wish ...I wish you could stay and help me find it.”
“Me too, but I can't; my place, and my love, wait in Selene's Garden at the edge of wild Elmete. Yet when doubt threatens to overcome you, look on this, and remember.”
Rose brought forth something she had hidden behind her back; the reddest rose Caden had ever seen. Caden's hands trembled when she took it; she brought it to her nose to smell.
“This …is no wizard's trick; this is real! None should be growing in the heart of winter! Where did you get this?”
“Why Caden! You know well, for you were there, when She gave it to me.”
End Part 6.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
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duty and destiny
part 7 by armond |
“I'm scared.”
“Caden, they're your sisters, not tripled headed hydras,” Rose said, as she, Cunedda and Caden walked the Celyn Castle halls.
“I'd rather face the hydras,” Caden said, as they arrived at the entrance to the small dining room. “What will I say? What if they don't like what I've been changed into? What if-”
“-It's just breakfast, sweetie,” Rose said. “If you're stumped for conversation, eat a pancake; I know you are hungry. I heard your stomach growling when I bathed you.”
But what if-”
Cunedda put a finger to Caden's mouth, opened the door and said, “Go, child!”
Caden nodded, and took two tiny steps in and stopped. She felt eight eyes scanning her, and looked downward. She wasn't wearing a dress, but the over-sized page shirt and legging seemed almost as bad. She shuffled to the vacant seat between Rhonwen and Carme and sat.
Caden hadn't the slightest idea what she should say, or where to start. Should she laugh? Cry? Introduce herself?
Instead, she turned and thwacked Rhonwen on the arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” Rhonwen said.
“All those years I've been smacked on the arm, I thought, since I'm a girl now too, a little payback was needed.”
“But why did you hit me?” Rhonwen said.
“Because you hit the hardest.”
“I still do,” Rhonwen said, and punched Caden's arm. “What are you going to do about that?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Caden said, with a sly grin.
She took her spoon, scooped a little oat porridge, and launched it at Rhonwen. Who ducked, causing the oat goo to splatter Gwyneth's face.
“You are so going to pay for that,” Gwyneth said, and launched an egg in Caden's direction. Soon food was flinging back and forth between the princesses, followed by laughter. At some point, Caden's laughter turned to tears.
“Caden, are you okay?” Laelia said.
Ignoring the obvious, 'no I'm not, just look at me,' Caden instead scanned her sisters' eyes.
“I was scared about what you'd think about me… I know I've always been Dad's favorite and now I'm…” Caden sighed. “I don't know what I'm trying to say.”
“You thought we would extract our own payback now that you are one of us,” Gwyneth said, her eyebrows raised. “We knew that was Dad's problem, not yours. The thing we are jealous of is …how, erm, stacked you are.”
It took Caden a moment to figure out what Gwyneth meant. When she did, her face reddened.
“I hoped these…” She motioned to her chest.
“Breasts,” Rhownen said, “They're called breasts, among other things.”
Caden reddened further. “I'd hoped they only seemed big.”
“Oh, no, the Goddess was extra generous with you,” Carme said.
Caden's eyes looked down. “I need your help. I feel so lost and-”
They were on her in a second hugging and kissing her.
“These are dark times, sister,” Gwyneth said, “and we Glamorgan princesses, all five of us, must stand to fight the storm. But today, just today …we will have a 'Princess Club Meeting' in my room.”
Caden knew their code words; a 'Princess Club meeting' meant slumber party, to which, as a young boy, she was barred. But now…
Caden blanched. “What will we do?”
“Oh, sweetie, you ought to be scared!” Rhonwen said. “You are getting the crash course!”
At some point, Rose and Cunedda slipped from the room. They gathered their traveling bags and headed to the Castle stables for their mounts.
Rose looked back down the hallway to the dining room. Cunedda saw her expression.
“What's wrong, dear?”
“She is opening herself, and they are there for her, but…” Rose bit her lower lip. “Did I do enough for her? Was there something else I could have said, some other bit of advice that would have helped her more?”
When she saw Cunedda's face, Rose scowled.
“Don't you dare give me the 'all-knowing High Priestess' look; I'm so worried for her!”
“And that's why I'm giving you 'the look'. Don't you think I have the same worries? About when I changed you, or any thousand other times, when our sisters ask gut-wrenching no win questions and expect me to have the answers. How do you think they would take my advice if I wore my 'I'm clueless too' expression?”
“Oh, great …so it's a practiced look? And -now I'm really confused- …why are you telling me this?”
Cunedda took Rose's face and turned it to hers.
“Lilly is such a wondrous and loving daughter; between the two of you, I am the most blessed woman in Argentia. But one thing she is not is a leader. And you are, love.”
Rose scanned her mother's eyes and stammered, “I'm not sure I understand.”
“I'll spell it out. One day, you will be the High Priestess, Rose, and you will need to have 'the look' too. I'd start practicing it now.”
Rose's mouth gaped, but no words came out.
“I've actually left you speechless!” Cunedda spread her arms wide and looked up. “Eternal praise to you Selene! Of all your miracles, this must be the most amazing!”
A spark flashed, and ozone wafted into the air, but the collar remained firmly in place. Faolá¡n slammed his fist on the table.
“No, no, no!”
“Me-oooow”
“It's no use, Zoe, I will remain a slave forever, and …I deserve it.”
He could fool himself no longer; since he transformed Caden, his power was diminished. A karmic reaction, he thought, since he had rammed the changes on an innocent man. One who, in the end sacrificed his life so Faolá¡n could live.
“The one noble who turns out to be decent and I destroy him.” Faolá¡n shook his head for the ten thousandth time since that moment.
Or …maybe it was a case of his concentration being shot, for he could not, could not, could not get her image from his mind, that perfect peaceful face, framed in blue.
He sighed, rose, and walked to his window.
Below, all was noise and bustle, for the king had called the Muster, and the reserves flowed in from all of Parasia, wide-eyed farmers mainly. King Coel had ordered the army to march southward as soon as it reached strength, for Arcum forces were rumored to be marching north.
Faolá¡n saw none of this; his eyes were fixed to the west. The distance was too far, but still Faolá¡n imagined the pine-forested Glamorgan Highlands, green and shimmering. And he wondered, did she suffer? Did she curse his name? How could she not?
His head pulsed and pounded, but after a moment, he realized, it was someone knocking at his door.
When he opened it, a woman greeted him, wearing a forest green dress with gold trim. Greeted him, with batting eyelashes.
“Princess Avila …is there something you need?”
“I've never been inside your inner sanctum,” Avila said, pushing past him into his chamber. “Is this where you turn people into frogs?”
If Faolá¡n was worried Zoe would hiss at Avila, he shouldn't have been; the feline didn't acknowledge the princess existed, choosing instead, to lick her paws.
“I don't turn people into frogs!”
“But Caden-”
“-was a mistake forced on me by your father. Still I should have refused. If I had been stronger…” Faolá¡n's hand went to his metal collar. Then he sighed. “Why are you here?”
Avila walked to Faolá¡n's window and peered out, first at the steady stream of men come to fight, then the cold afternoon sun.
“Everything has changed and is so dreadfully serious,” Avila said. “No one has time for me.”
Zoe mewed, and Faolá¡n struggled not to laugh, but his familiar was right; how could he have been smitten with someone so vapid?
“I'm young, okay? Give me a break!”
“Excuse me?”
“Um, sorry, I was speaking to …never mind.” Faolá¡n shot Zoe a dirty look, who, of course, ignored it. “We ready for war, Princess, people are going to die!”
“Can't you stop it? Cast a spell or something? Like you did with Caden?”
Faolá¡n blinked. “Are you serious? Is it your belief I have godlike powers? Why would I be enslaved if-”
“-And speaking of Caden, can you change him back? He's going to be so mad at what we did to him; he won't forgive me for the longest time, I bet.”
“Mad at …change him…” Faolá¡n was spluttering. “The transformation spell escalated far beyond anything I could control. I felt the Goddess' hand at work and-”
“-Change him back for me.” Avila took his hand in hers. “Please?”
“I can't change her back! My magics haven't worked right since I cast the spell!”
“You don't want to.” Avila yanked her hand back. “You're jealous of him.”
How would he answer that? In truth, he never thought of Avila at all now. He was riddled with guilt, and filled with new-found admiration for the former prince. And whenever he closed, her face waited for him.
“What don't you understand? I cannot. I'd be lucky to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“Then what good are you?”
He stood looking at his door long after Avila had gone. Finally he trudged back to his table to sit again.
“She's right, you know; I'm too stupid a mage to free myself, and now I've destroyed the life of an innocent. I'm worthless.”
He lowered his face into his hands, and cried, until he felt a soft scratchy wetness on his hand.
“Meeeew.”
“Thanks, Zoe; s'kind of you to say. But you're hardly unbiased.”
Faolá¡n stood and walked to the window, to see the sun was not long from setting. The frenetic activity continued below, the steady stream of men and barking of orders. Above that din, the clanging of the blacksmiths' shops, as weapons were repaired and sharpened.
Faolá¡n heard and saw none of it, his gaze again captured by the Glamorgan horizon. On a whim, he took up his wizard's staff from the corner of his room, and pointed it toward the western kingdom.
“Forgive me Caden; may the Goddess guide you to find your way from the pit I've cast you in.” He closed his eyes and chanted:
He had thought his energy was gone, but the surge he felt was the strongest since he cast Caden's transformation spell. His staff glowed bright blue, and a dove, made of light, formed and flew off to the setting sun, and Glamorgan.
“Now that was interesting.”
“The Ibion district reports 20 men, Actis 12, Egur 22, Seganul 31-”
“-Wait, did you say 12 for Actis?” General Gares said. He shook his head when the lieutenant confirmed the figure with a 'yes sir'.
“Damn, we are a quarter down in our numbers!”
Yet a little voice in the General's head wasn't upset at all; it said fewer to die.
The Muster Call continued with the same depressing trend, until the king and his retinue approached.
“Well, General? Are we at full strength?”
“No, sire, not nearly so. It will be another day at least before we-”
“-No, General, we will not wait another day; we move tomorrow,” Coel said. “Fortune favors the bold but-”
“-all good things come to those who wait, sire,” Gares said. “The extra men could make the difference, especially since we can count no help from Glamorgan.”
“I was going to say fortune favors the bold but abandons the timid,” Coel said, as he drew his cloak tightly about his body. The temperature had plunged with the setting sun.
“Our agents report the Arcum army has cleared Belldell Forest,” Coel continued, “and has entered Drachill Basin, which-”
“-Is well within Arcum's borders,” Gares said. “Though their likely destination is Westfalon, at present they can still claim to be 'on maneuvers'. If we cross the border to meet them, they will say we started this war.”
“Perhaps you have grown complacent since your retirement, my general? We know well Arcum's hand was behind the unfortunate incident with Caden; Gritha's intent is clear. He who hesitates is lost; and-”
“-you should look before you leap, Sire. This morning, all the carrier pigeons of one of our deep cover spies returned with no messages. That means he was discovered, perhaps in the process of trying to relay some key piece of information-”
“-I have spoken! Time and tide wait for no man, not even the extra cautious General Gares. We march at dawn.”
With that, the king strode to the palace, followed by his flock of courtiers. Gares shook his head as he watched them scurry back to their comfy palace hearths.
“Yet, sire, if we are to trade clichés that will place our men in harm's way, I would add one more; fools rush in where gods fear to tread.”
“Very well, Captain Faro,” Gritha said, scratching his chin. “Any word on whether King Coel is taking the bait?”
“We think so; the Parasian Muster is underway, and-”
“-Think so? Captain, I will not operate on supposition, I need facts! Has the Glamorgan army crossed our borders?”
“No sire, but-”
Gritha slammed his hand down on the arm of his throne chair.
“No buts. I want you to ride to Baurdu and tell him to double his pace. That will draw old Coel down for sure.”
“Yet if he does, he will overshoot the location we have chosen to engage Parasia's troops,” Faro said.
“Exactly,” Gritha said, once again stroking his chin. “Tell Baurdu to first engage Gares to the north of where we planned. In that encounter, have our troops give way, and then retreat …to the original location.”
“Yes …yes!” Faro grinned. “We will suck King Coel's army down like a fly to honey. They will be chasing our troops …disorganized …and then we spring the Black Brigade on their rear guard for maximum destruction. Brilliant, sire.”
“I'm so glad you approve. Now go!” Gritha barked. “Tell Baurdu I will join our troops when I receive word Parasia has crossed our border.”
Captain Faro's exit was followed by Colonel Shalean entrance. Several cloaked figures accompanied Shalean, with Agent Vaego sandwiched between. Though he knelt before Gritha, Shalean's deep set eyes flicked back and forth around the throne room.
“Yes, Colonel?”
“Sire, I wish to report Agent Vaego discovered a spy on General Baurdu's staff.”
Gritha's eyes widened and his back straightened. “Blast! Are we compromised? Is all for naught?”
“No sire,” Vaego said, “I stopped the traitor before he could warn Parasia.”
Gritha regarded the speaker, and noted the man was so squatty, he couldn't tell whether he knelt or stood.
“Excellent! You are a true hero to Arcum. And what further information has the spy revealed under questioning?”
“Alas, nothing, sire, for Agent Vaego terminated the spy,” Shalean said.
“I killed the man, and released his pigeons,” the grinning Vaego nodded. “Let the Parasian pigs wonder at that!”
“Did you now?” Gritha sat back in his chair; his eyes darkened. “Do you realize, had you stayed your hand, we could have sent Parasia a false message, Agent Vaego?”
“Er, no, sire I-”
“-Or that the return of all the pigeons at once is a message of itself? A warning?”
“Um …no, sire …I didn't think …you see-”
“-Colonel Shalean, I'm searching for a word. What do we call someone who warns our enemies of our plans?”
Colonel Shalean grinned. “The word you are searching for is 'traitor', sire.”
“Yes!” Gritha clapped his hands together. “That's it.”
“No, sire!” Vaego started rise, but felt the strong hands of the cloaked men clamp his shoulders. “I wasn't trying to betray you! I acted in the heat of the moment; I took initiative, I-”
“Silence!” Gritha shouted, and stood. “Colonel Shalean, take our hero to the processing room in the dungeon, and show him the reward for exercising such …initiative.”
As Gritha exited the throne room, he heard Vaego's plaintive 'noooo' and smiled.
“Initiative indeed.”
"Fold the left strand over into the center, catching the center strand underneath."
"Like this?"
"Perfect. Now, fold the right strand over into the center, and...
"...catch the center strand underneath. Got it."
After several minutes ticked by, Caden held up the end of her long black braid.
“What do I do with-”
Before she finished the sentence, Carme tied the end with a blue silk ribbon. Then she let the braid fall behind Caden's back.
“What do you think?” Laelia said.
Caden shook her head several times and sighed. “Goddess, this feels so much better. It was driving me crazy the way it laid on my neck.”
“No, silly, how do you think you look?”
Caden blinked at her reflection in Gwyneth's dressing table mirror, her four sisters smiling faces crowding her shoulders.
“Um …good?”
“Good?” Carme snickered. “Caden, you're gorgeous. This accentuates your cheekbones.”
“Gorgeous? I…” Caden sighed again, and not a happy one this time. “Assuming you are right, this is a lot of trouble to look 'gorgeous.' Why not cut it off and be done with it?”
After their shrieks died down, she held up her hands in defeat. “Alright, fine, I won't do it but …so far, everything about being a woman seems to involve tons of extra preparation.”
“You'll get used to it,” Gwyneth said, giving Caden a gentle swat to her head. “Welcome to our world. Now, I hate to interrupt your 'lessons', but it's time for a much needed 'planning session', so; everyone over to my sitting room.
Caden hopped up from the dressing table stool and followed her sisters out of Gwyneth's bedroom and to a chamber room filled with sofas and chairs.
“When will our guest arrive?” Gwyneth said, looking at Rhonwen.
Rhonwen turned to a window and squinted. “At dusk, so he should arrive soon.”
“Guest? He?” Caden gulped.
“Don't fret, Cadie, it's no one that hasn't already seen you,” Rhonwen said. “It's Jaussen. He's going to give us a briefing on …the state of things.”
“Cadie!” Laelia squealed. “I love it. That's so much better than calling you Caden.”
“Laelia! Focus!” Gwyneth growled. “And Cadie, just so you know, Rhonwen has her eye on Jaussen, so he is off limits.”
“Sorry?” Caden said.
“She means, Jaussen is spoken for,” Carme said.
“I'm …still not following what you mean.”
“We mean, hands off, no touchie, Jaussen is Rhonwen's,” Laelia said.
Caden's forehead scrunched as she tried to figure out what they were telling her. Her eyes widened when she did.
“Are you saying I'd …that he and I would…” Her mouth flopped open. “If you think that I could ever, be interested in a man romantically, you are sadly mistaken. Need I remind you I was one just days ago?”
“Not good enough, sweetie,” Rhonwen said. “The 'sister pact' is what keeps peace and unity among the Glamorgan princesses. You feel this way today, but tomorrow? We need to know you are with us.”
Caden rolled her eyes. “Fine whatever. I swear, by Selene and all that is holy, that I will never …um …poach …a man any sister has claimed. Good enough?”
“A bit more formal than needed, Cadie, but yeah, that works,” Rhonwen said. “And we swear the same to you.”
When her other sisters voiced their agreement, Caden shook her head. “That will be a promise easily kept, because I will never be interested in a man that way.”
Before any sister could provide a crushing reply, they heard a knock at Gwyneth's door.
“Ah, the man himself; his ears must be stinging,” Gwyneth said. “Jaussen? Come in; it's unlocked.”
“Does that make sense, Jaussen?” Rhonwen said. “Arcum's strength is not in its infantry.”
Caden saw the flicker of attraction in the young spy's eyes when he glanced at Rhonwen. Yet she saw nothing but indifference from her auburn haired sister. She leaned to Gwyneth and whispered,
“Are you sure Rhonwen likes him?”
“Oh Cadie, you have so much to learn; now, pay attention.” Gwyneth whispered back.
“To which? Jaussen's briefing or the little dance between the two?”
“As your head is no longer ruled by your missing 'little head,' you should be able to pay attention to both. Now, sshhhh.”
“I agree, Princess,” Jaussen said to Rhonwen. “It is odd for Arcum to play to Parasia's strength.”
“We need better information,” Rhonwen said. “And so I will ride south within the hour to learn what I may.”
“What?! Are you insane? I forbid it!”
“Oh?” Rhonwen stood and moved close to the broad shouldered man. “Have you recently been promoted to king?”
“Er, no, princess, but it is unthinkable to consider allowing you to go.”
“I rather think you have no say in whether I come or go, good sir,” Rhonwen said, flashing a wicked grin.
“Then, if you insist on following this mad course, I will accompany you,” Jaussen said.
“Be careful sister. We know how dearly Arcum would love to get its hands on a Glamorgan princess.”
“But I won't be a princess. Merely a peasant girl and her husband traveling south for work. Come Jaussen, we've preparations to make before we leave.”
Caden watched open-mouthed as the couple left. “Are all men maneuvered so easily?”
“No, but a man in love is,” Gwyneth said, staring after the couple as well.
“This is insane, Gwyneth! How can you let her go? She's-”
“-A helpless female? Is that what you were going to say, sister?” Gwyneth put a hand on her hip. “Perhaps later we shall play that role. For now, the High Priestess has charged us with different roles, and by Selene we will do them!”
She turned to Carme and Laelia.
“Come! We have work to do. There are several ancient pacts I need to consult, for tomorrow I confront the council. We must order the Muster, and if they will not or cannot make the decision, then I will!
You two have chores as well, for when the Muster is called, we will need food and shelter for our troops. An encampment must be set up for them; start with the quartermaster.”
“And what of me?” Caden said softly.
“Cunedda said you have a part to play, too, though I don't know what,” Gwyneth said. “You've been through so much already. Why don't you rest for a while; take some time, and try to get used to your new self.”
Caden shook her head. “All my life, it's been my duty to serve Glamorgan, training to lead her one day. Since before I could walk I knew this was my task; I never once considered doing anything else. Now that is gone, and I feel so …weak and useless.”
Her sigh was heavy as she walked to Gwyneth's window to gaze on the evening star.
“In my dream, the Goddess asked me to show her my nature, and I couldn't. I don't know what it is!” Caden looked at her trembling hands, and then grasped the stone window sill to cry into the dusk,
“Please Selene, at least show me the first step I must take!”
A bright bird of purest white flew in the window and sat on Caden's shoulders. She sang a sorrowful song, that brought tears to Caden's eyes. When the dove finished, she flew up into the night. Caden watched the bird join the stars as one of their lights.
When she turned back to her sisters, her face was pale. “Well, that answers that.”
“Holy Selene, what message did she give you?” Carme managed to whisper.
“There is a man who dies from the loss of a beloved son. I am to go to him and mend his broken heart.”
“What man?” Laelia said.
“Father.”
end part 7.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (a pdf of After Winter can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Author's note 2: Since reader interest has been a bit tepid, I'm not sure if I'll post the final chapters here. I'm posting an 'in progress' version of Duty and Destiny 8 here, if you are interested.
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duty and destiny
part 8 by armond |
The Two of Swords represents the fulcrum between the still and moving; it is the hurricane's eye.
27.
Well, General? What think you now?"
Gares frowned, when he should be grinning; after all, Parasia had just routed Arcum in their first clash.
The Drachill Basin spread before him; threatening to swallow everything with its vast flatness. Winter’s blight had transformed the plain into depressing gray nothingness. At least spring and summer brought tall green grasses and roaming bison.
Gares scanned the horizon with his “spyglass” trying to extract as much battle intelligence as he could. Even with the makeshift tower his engineers had constructed, the Basin yielded little hard evidence.
The old general sighed, and lowered his distance viewer. He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Basin.
He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Drachill Basin.
"I say we retire to our side of the border, and wait to see if they try to return for more."
"Gods, man!" King Coel nearly screamed. "Carry the battle to them! Don't let them bring it to you ...isn't that what all great generals do?"
"Sire. We are still not yet at full strength, and many of our recruits don't know a sword's tip from its handle. Let us-"
"-No! I will not let this victory slip away! Order your men to follow!" The king turned turned to one of the many servants that constantly trailed after him; a pudgy lad with bland face. "You, Garvin! Ride to the palace and tell the court to join us on the field."
Gares' jaw dropped. "Sire! This is not a sport to be applauded by coutiers! Men are dying!"
"You saw the Arcum dogs crumble before us; I would not deprive my ministers of the chance to see our army victorious," Coel said, waving him away. "You know, I am glad we will prevail without Glamorgan's help. Though I regret what happened to Prince Caden, at least I shall be able to deal with Rhys from a position of strength."
Gares stood silent long after King Coel had left his side. Then he turned to his attaché.
"Call an emergency meeting of my senior staff, Malcom. For we have new orders to follow."
And a king who is unfit to rule, Gares thought. We must plan what we will do about that, also, or it will be our death.
28.
“May I suggest a smaller steed, Princess? One more appropriate to your size?”
The formal voice caught her by surprise, causing Caden to look hard on her childhood friend. Her first thought was that if his beard and moustache ever managed to fill in, he would carry a 'gravitas' that would grab people and make them listen.
“Cedrick! It's me! Stop calling me princess! I'm the same person who suffered with you under the odious Sir Willian when we trained as squires.”
“As you wish, ma'am." The young cavalryman’s jaw clinched and he looked down. "Though I fear my brother-in arms who goes by that name is dead.”
Caden blinked away wetness; had she lost her friends too? Would that she could travel alone to her father's hunting lodge in the highlands -as she had countless other times in the past- but Gwyneth told her that, for a young woman, it was not an option.
“Shall I saddle your mount then?” Cerdick said.
Caden's hands clinched into fits. “No one saddles Llamrei but me; no one!”
Cedrick's eyes widened, and Caden thought she saw a glimmer of recognition from her friend, but then he looked down.
“As you wish, ma'am. Call me if you need help.”
"I? Need help? With Llamrei? It will be a cold day in Tartaros when that happens!”
Cadwen shoved her way past the tall cavalry soldier into the stables. A familiar fragrance surrounded her; of straw, leather saddles and tack, horses, dust, and a dash of manure. For a moment, she forgot everything else ...and felt at home.
Then she froze before Llamrei's stall: what if she doesn't know me either?
Even with the vision the Goddess sent her, even with Rose's good counsel, if that happened, Caden wasn't sure she could go on. Her hands shook when she approached the milk-white mare, because Llamrei looked with those wide blue eyes.
Brown eyes were the color of most horses, yet every now and again one was blue. Caden had never remembered her mare's eyes this blue; though, though seemed to glow. Somehow Caden found her voice.
“Hey, girl, I know you don't recognize me, but, um ...I'm me, I mean, Caden, er...”
Llamrei nickered a bright hello, then nuzzled Caden's face before she could speak another sound. Caden threw her arms around Llamrei's neck and pressed her cheek against her dearest friend. Her throat had tightened, but she managed to sob a 'thank you.' Llamrei neighed her response.
“You're right, we don't have all day,” Caden said, lifting her head.. Then she stepped back to look at her horse. “Cedrick has a point; I've lost a dozen inches in height.”
Llamrei nodded her head and neighed again
“Right,” Caden answered, “my old saddle it is then, and-”
Her mouth dropped open. “Llamrei! You’re talking to me!”
Llamrei nickered again, reducing Caden to stutters.
“You've a-always t-talked to me? But ...but ...how is it I understand you n-now?”
Caden put her hand on her hip at Llamrei's snorted reply.
“Oh? I've gotten smarter as I've gotten prettier? Insane is more like it; I mean, I’m talking to my horse.”
“You’re not a horse but my …familiar?” Caden said in answer to a whinny. "But familiars only come to people with magical power, like wizards or healers, or…”
Caden looked down at her hands, which briefly glowed blue.
“Blast and bother! I’m magicked, aren't I?”
Caden’s hand went back to her hip when Llamrei let loose a series of whinnies.
“Well I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny. Shall we saddle and bridle now?”
Llamrei neighed and whined several sentences to Caden, and the young woman turned paler.
"It ...cuts you? Oh, Llamreii! All these years, I had no idea!"
Caden fell to the straw before her mare. "I'm so sorry."
Llamrei whispered something and gently cuffed the back of Caden's head with her muzzle. Caden rose and stroked Llamrei."
"Thank you, I don't deserve your forgiveness. I promise I will never fail you again."
“My distrust of you grows by the minute, Lady, for Prince Caden would never deign to use a bosal. No true Glamorgan cavalryman would.”
“I'm using a bosal because Llamrei told me that a bit rips the inside of her mouth, and...”
Caden sighed. She saw the set of Cedrick's face; he would look more kindly on her if eels wriggled from her mouth.
“We haven't the time to waste for me to convince you, sir. War comes and Glamorgan needs her king. Will you and your men accompany me, or shall I ride alone?”
Cedrick looked to the sky; the gray clouds told him another storm was here.
“But surely we would be prudent to wait until the foul weather passes. Remember, winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.”
Caden growled; there was no time for this! She leaned close to one of Llamrei's ears.
“The path to the hunting lodge will be hard, for every mile is two in winter," Caden whispered. Will you allow me to ride you?”
“Thank you," Caden said, after Llamrei neighed. She vaulted onto her saddle.
“Cedrick? Catch me if you can. Llamrei ...fly!”
Llamrei reared on her hind legs and trumpeted a neigh. Then she and Caden galloped away toward the Highland mist.
29.
General Baurdu scanned the scene before him; the Drachill Basin was so uniformly flat, that even this tiny hill gave him a commanding view of the plain.
“Captain, is the force bearing down on us the main Parasian infantry? The dust obscures their numbers from me.”
Captain Elsuk peered into the distance. “We count both light and heavy elements, and we’ve identified the banners of all Parasian divisions, sir.”
“So …yes? We’ve lured the lot of them?”
Elsuk answered with a crisp ‘yes sir.”
“Excellent. Have the buglers blow halt, then formation. Send our banners forward. Once they reach the front, sound advance. And send word to King Gritha that it has begun.”
“And the signal to the Black Brigade?” Elsuk said.
Baurdu scanned the skies; though a storm brewed in the far Glamorgan west, above the Basin the air was cold and clear.
“By the gods we are favored! For weather permits the mirror flash. Relay the message to the Brigade to begin their march; it is time to tighten the noose!”
30.
The three princess stood in the hallway before the massive council doors; Gwyneth brushed a hand over its rough surface.
Glamorgan aspen was not an easy wood to work with, she knew, for furniture other than rustic beds. But her great great grandfather, King Hywel, had demanded aspen be used. Aspens grew tall and straight, which for him meant it was an honest wood; honest and truthful. Hywel hoped this quality would rub off on his counselors when they walked through.
For a moment, Gwyneth, Carme and Laelia stood and listened, to the sonorous tones, filtering through the wooded doors. They tried to sense the mood of the kingdom's wise men; were they outraged? Determined? Purposeful?
Hywel had been shrewd, for the doors would not allow such lies to filter through. What the princesses clearly heard was fear. The Glamorgan counselors filibustered any action, because they hadn't a clue what next steps to take. And so they sought to wish away their fright through ponderous speeches.
"If words were arrows, then our council could protect us from any foe," Laelia hissed.
"But they are not arrows, only air, hot and useless." Gwyneth replied. She reached for the brass door handle. "I've heard enough; shall we?"
"I wish Roni and Cadi were with us," Carme said. "The High Priestess told us that the five princesses together must work to save our land."
"And we are!" Gwyneth said. "Roni understands how desperately we need to know what is happening between our foes. She also knows Jaussen would never allow her to travel alone. By dragging him with her, she moves our best spy into the field. And if anyone can rouse Father from his self-pitying sorrow it is Cadi. Our job is to make sure that when Father is here, and when we actually know what our enemies are doing, that we have a mobilized army ready to act."
"You make it sound so simple," Carme said, twirling a blonde curl.
"Simple, yes, easy, no," Gwyneth answered.
"What if they won't listen to us," Laelia said. "What if-"
Gwyneth whirled around, eyes flashing.
"Rhonwen is risking her life! And Caden, well ...what our newest sister is suffering is unimaginable, yet still she rides to reach Father. And you fear these grumpy old men? We are Glamorgan princesses! Show some backbone!"
At her growl, Laelia and Carme's faces reddened. But they threw back their hair and stood chin up and board straight.
"Now you've got it! Let's go!"
Gwyneth spun to the doors again and slammed them open.
All talking hushed and twenty wizened heads turned to the doors, twenty of the highest ranking nobles in Glamorgan.
"Princesses!" A silver-haired man called from a podium; he who wore the purple robes of the Glamorgan Pro Consul.
"We are honored by your presence. This may not be the time for a tour of the Chambers. We are in camera and-"
"-But you are not in session," Gwyneth said, in a voice that cut through the fog of rhetoric hanging in the air.
The Pro Consul huffed as he straightened his robes. "I beg your pardon, we most definitely-"
"You are not doing anything at all!" Gwyneth said, as she walked toward the podium. "I will speak to you now. I claim le roi droite."
"A thousand pardons," the Pro Consul patronized, "but as Princess, you have no standing to address this body, and certainly cannot invoke le roi droite."
"Point of order," Gwyneth answered, as she drew beside him. "Under the Covenant of Rayedge, in the absence of the King, the eldest heir speaks for the crown."
"Ah, you are mistaken, Princess." The Pro Consul's tone was condescension incarnate. "That Covenant only applies to male heirs, and quite clearly you are not-"
"-If you would actually read the scroll," Gwyneth answered, "you would find it is not gender specific. Master Scribe? Do you disagree?"
The head of the small man seated next to the podium slowly rose. When he blinked through his bottle thick spectacles, he grinned; Gwyneth had been one of his brightest students.
"The princess is correct, Pro Consul, the Rayedge Covenant did not specify male heirs."
"This is not acceptable, Princess" the Pro Consul snorted. "I must object-"
"-Not acceptable? Let me discuss exactly what is not acceptable. The armies of Parasia and Arcum are on the move, yet we have precious little intelligence of what is happening. Princess Rhonwen rides south with Officer Jaussen as we speak. She risks her life to do so. Princess Caden rides-"
Murmuring erupted at the mention of her new sister's title. Gwyneth allowed it for no more than a few moments, before she hammered the podium with the Pro Consul's gavel; she had already edged him out of the way.
"Don't feign ignorance! Jaussen gave this body a full report of how Caden was changed at the hand of King Coel's wizard. It was an act of war against Glamorgan that this Council has managed to ignore these past days. To say she suffers would be an understatement most laughable. Yet instead of grieving in her room as any normal human would after such a traumatic transformation, she has ridden into the teeth of a Highland blizzard to fetch our king down from his mountain hideaway."
Carme and Laelia joined Gwyneth, and flanked their sister at the podium. Their eyes scanned the councilmen.
"I know my sisters," Carme said, in a clear voice. "Rhonwen will return with news of our enemies. Will our troops be ready to act?"
"And Caden will return with King Rhys," Laelia joined. "With our enemies at our doorstep, how will you explain our lack of preparation to our king?"
As their words sank in, the councilmen turned pale green.
"But what are we to do?" the Pro Consul said. "We've always been guided by the king's firm hand. What. Will. We. Do?"
A grin spread across Gwyneth's face. She had them! The council was hers.
"I will tell you..."
end part 8.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.