Epilogue, Price of a Throne

Epilogue

            The inhabitants of the palace rose late the next morning. Some were refreshed, some were still tired, and others felt ready to feast still more. But, in the end, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, horses were saddled, blades were shined, and farewells were exchanged.

            It was decided between those who were to depart that they should travel south and stop for a time at Falnath Melanar, there leaving Miran and his mother. While Valun mounted his trusty steed who had brought him through the years, he still marveled at the mounts which the Princess and her ever-present band of silent guards had procured for themselves. He had last seen the humped beasts years ago in the Gairbairn capital, at the same great fair which has been mentioned. Miran, having been in seclusion for so long, was not familiar with them and remained in the saddle of his horse.

            The two kings rode at the head of the party, while the others formed a line behind them. The party left the city to an enthusiastic send-off, their ears ringing with the cries of “Health and happiness to you all!” These cheers were acknowledged as cheerfully as they were given out. The party of nobles then turned toward the southern road and settled into a smooth gait which would take them for several miles.

            Near the close of day they reached Falnath Melanar, which was now more heavily protected than they had expected to find it. They identified themselves from several yards away, giving the men time to open the heavy gate they had built in each wall. At a hail, Sir Dunstan himself came out to greet them, bowing low before his own monarchs and giving Valun a soldier’s salute.

            “You have come at a good time, my lord. We have recently begun building your hall, as you said it should be done. We shall have finished before the week is past.”

            “Thank you, good knight. I do not think I could feast again before that anyway. King Elmbran gave us far too much to put down our throats.”

            “And the ladies? Do you wish that they have a house also? The men are tired, but they will do it.”

            To ease the conversation, the nobles began dismounting. Miran put his man’s worries to rest. “No, that will not be necessary. Indicating the litter, he said “My mother will live in my house. My sister has other intentions, though, which she will reveal to you.” With a snap of his fingers, Miran brought forward the guards, who took the mounts and led them away without comment, as was their wont.

            The next day, the people assembled in the central plaza to hear what the nobles had to say to them. It did not take long. Miran went first.

            “My people! Brave swords and hearty workers, who would march all day for me and still fight the battle when it came, because you could, hear me! A new dawn has risen over the lands. The worry of the enemy, who oppressed all, even his own people, has been destroyed by brave men who had much left to gain and even more to avenge. Foremost among them we name Railon the Traveler, and Torlan the Magnificent, kings of the desert land, and of the hardiest people anywhere. The others were less well-known to most, but are equally missed by their houses. Those men we shall honor by keeping their houses in food and gear until such sons as they had are grown to their place. I will not leave you again. In time, we shall return to the banks of the Ishbana and there honor our fathers by toiling as they did. We are men of the desert. It is in us, and we can not escape it. So we will return. And now, listen to the words of my sister.”

            Miran stepped back then and allowed the Princess to come forward to speak. Her speech was softer and more quickly heard.

            “You are my people, and so you shall remain. I have met many of you, and those I have seen I shall not forget. But I can not stay among you. In my heart it has been decided that I should go to the Corridanes to be their queen. They also have suffered great loss, and their lord fears that he does not the way to put a roof on a house.” There were smiles and some laughs at this. Valun, surprised by such a strange announcement, simply shook his head, grinning with the Gairbairns. But then the Princess continued and concluded.

            “And so I must go there, but in spirit I will live in his palace and in this town. And sometimes I will find myself riding here when you would not expect it. Farewell. Man your walls, do not let your banks flood over, and watch for the lady.”

            For the second time, Valun passed down a street lined with people as he departed from them. But this time he was too satisfied with himself to notice. The main road was pointed out to them, they took their last farewells of Miran and his people, and set off.

            An uneventful week passed until they reached the bank of the great river, where they had to wait for several hours before the boat which had brought Valun across finally appeared. The crew was surprised by the change in passengers, but a few words set them to rights and the boat started off.

            Several more slow hours passed while the boat crossed the river. They disembarked at the Carribeasa dock, from which place they moved on to the central hall of the city. At this point, the captain of the city’s garrison, having been notified of the king’s approach, came out and gave his sword over to the king, saying “The city is yours.”

            Valun promptly handed the blade back to its owner. “Keep it in my name. On the fourth day from this, give the people a holiday.”

            “Your word is law.”

            Valun, the Princess, and her guards then departed from the city. In the few succeeding days, they passed through several villages, not all of which acknowledged his presence. Out of respect to his friend, Valun did not lead the party across the boundaries of Longfurrow land, even though it was both within his rights and a shorter path.

            It was about noon of the third day that they reached the capital, where Valnor had long since finally put men to work rebuilding the walls, along with the city itself. A sentry, whom Valun recognized as James due to the distinctive helm he wore, signaled acknowledgement from the walltop and then disappeared. When the king reached it, the gate had been opened. He entered through it slowly, relishing the gradually increasing cheers as he passed through his city. Fittingly, the cheers he was hearing now were the most enthusiastic he heard in years. By the time he reached the palace, he felt deafened by the volume of them.

            There upon the steps of the palace, to consummate Valun’s rising to be a true king of the Corridanes, Valnor and the old priest were present. While Valnor handed off the royal power, the priest intoned “By brother, by mother, and by friend named in life, by father named by death, take now upon yourself the power to command all men in the land. See that you do it well.” As Valun placed the crown upon his head once more and stepped back to say a few words to the priest, Valnor took his place to cry the ritual statement once and for all.

            “I, Valnor of the house of Valun, pronounce my lord Valun III, a blood descendant of the house of Valun, worthy to mount these steps and be crowned king of the Corridanes under The One!”

            Before departing, Valun stepped forward one more time to announce to the people “There shall be a holiday tomorrow, for I have found the lady who will be my queen! By her own choice she comes here, and it took her long to decide that much!” The people close enough to see saw that the king was laughing, and so they joined in, which eventually resulted in the whole crowd chuckling. The Princess, who was watching from the side, took it peacefully, for she could see that the jab was a response to her statement to her own people regarding a proper house. She decided that the coming years would be a very happy time in Corridane.

            The next day, Valun and the Princess walked together to the temple, which they entered, and later emerged as king and queen of the Corridanes.

            In the course of time, it passed and the people thrived, feeding off the cheer which the king and queen both displayed. It was a time of plenty in the land, and little strife in the city which Robert and his men did not succeed in rectifying. First James and then Robert sent for and, paid well, the best architects from all the lands to rebuild their halls according to the plans in the memories of themselves and their acquaintances. Both halls were built to the lords’ full satisfaction, and several builders went away from Corridane with heavy purses.

            In addition, masons built a cairn over Richard’s remains, and a statue in the plaza of the capital which recognized those men known now as the Twenty; their names became known only to bards, who were also already singing speculative versions of Richard’s last ride and Robert’s defense. The king and queen, now that all turmoil had passed, memorialized Roland Longfurrow and Eric Trondale at the seacoast, where it was generally believed that they had been unceremoniously interred.

            In the middle of the next year, Valun rode alone with his brother to the northern coast where he had met his father so long ago. As had been arranged at last, the ship came over the horizon, and after a farewell and a few words to the boatmen, Valnor departed with the teachers, and Valun turned back to live out his life among his people.

            About a year after the Princess’s arrival, Valun again declared a holiday. From the steps of the temple, where all the great step were taken, with the queen at his side, he announced that she had borne a son, who had been named Ryal.

            Years passed, and James Earl Longfurrow asked for and was accepted by Anne of Trondale, even though he was three years the younger and still sometimes acted that way. By this time, Robert had himself found an admirable girl to perpetuate the honor of his house.

            And finally, word was received from Gairbairia that the city by the river had been completely rebuilt and that the king wished for his sister’s presence at the celebration. Meanwhile, a new man who understood ruling had risen in Naibern. There was peace in the land.

            Some time after hearing of this, and before his queen returned from her homeland, Valun went alone to the monument he had erected over his father’s body.

            “It has all come to pass, father. The people are content. They came together as you asked of them. There is honor, peace, and justice in all the lands. But still I am alone, and still I wish for you at times.”

            Suddenly, Robert stepped out of the shade which was situated close by the tomb, making Valun jump. “But, my lord, you have done it, and you are destined to be one of the people’s favorites.”

            “You think so?”

            “Duty before peace. As you know, it is…”

            Together they recited “The price of a Throne.” Companionably, with little notice of rank between such old friends, they made their way back to the city, where the spires of the temple shone in the fading light.

Chapter 50

Chapter LIV

            Three more strenuous days passed before the lords reached the camp of the refugees. In the last hours they were guided by the sound of difficult work being done, which they were not long in seeing the result of. In the passage of time, Dunstan, as the king’s regent, had taken it upon himself to start the building of the city that was to be Gaimaron in exile. The work the lords approached was some of the last that remained to be done.

            As the nobles looked down upon the emerging city from their hilltop, they could see no sign of any commander; Dunstan was laboring alongside the men, knowing they would work the harder for the respect. Every man who had not been injured in some way was still working on some aspect of the arrangement which had not been yet finished. Some were laying out roadstones, others fortifying the grass roofs of buildings already completed. Only two men were not working who could, and those two were stationed toward the south, to alert the workers to a possible advance by the unvanquished enemy who had driven them away. Neither of them paid any notice to the direction from which the lords had come.

            After admiring the hardihood of the workers for some moments, the lords spurred their horses down into the dell which was fast becoming a strong town. The road workers were the first to notice them, as they clattered down the cobblestones which had been laid only a few days before. As they passed, the workers rose in deference, but, unsure what to say, they said nothing.

            When they had drawn level with the road workers, they stopped almost as one. Miran, raising his voice for a greater effect, asked “Where is the man they call Sir Dunstan?”

The man pointed mutely toward the last house which was still being built. Out from the mass around it had come a man who was distinguished only by the fact that he was smaller than many of those around him. Making a move to clean his hands a little before he spoke, he asked “Who calls for the presence of the king’s regent? I am a soldier of Gairbairia, empowered by the king, Railon called the Traveler, to act in his stead. My name is Dunstan Ralfson. My men call me the wraith. I ask what you want of me!”

By this time, every man was looking now at the lords, then at Dunstan. John and Valun exchanged wondering glances and then turned back toward Dunstan, who blinked once. After a suitable pause, Miran pronounced in his most regal tone “Dunstan Ralfson, strong sword of the desert kingdom, and honorable king’s regent, you are relieved of that duty. For the king has come among you again.” Here he paused. At a gesture, the closest worker stepped close enough to take the horse’s reins. Releasing the ropes, Miran reached behind himself and drew his unstrung longbow forward. Setting the open end on the ground, he slid down, then took a moment to steady himself with a palm to his steed’s flank. When he was ready, he stepped forward four paces in front of the horse. Resuming his regal tone, he announced “For I am the king, named by my uncle Railon as the long-suffering, called king by him before he died, first-born of Torlan, sent away by him before I knew why because, it seems, I could not walk. I forgive my father for his weakness. You see that I walk.” Beyond the solemnity of the moment, these short statements by the young, crippled, king in exile carried imponderable weight behind them. Without a word in response, the whole mass of men there, in all their various stages of filth from their hard labor, bowed their knees as one.

            Miran, hobbling slowly, and leaning heavily on his strong bow, which he had formed so stiffly for that sole purpose, made his way toward Dunstan. A mere foot from the man he said again softly “The king has come among you.” and then “Go about your work. I shall not have a place greater than yours, but I shall take the one in center, and my banner shall be set in the ground before it, so that you will remember that I am king. In addition, you shall build a great hall, within which a hundred and more men may feast, and it shall have a great window, open toward the south, where our hearts lie. The door shall be toward the west, in honor to those who have aided us and to commemorate the late king Railon, who should be here but now lies in peace on the great isle of Miran. And in the east wall, of course, there shall be a great hearth to warm all those who come in. Only a smaller window shall there be to look toward our village here, for we will, before long years have passed, return to the desert and our true home. Our fathers made their lives out of it; are we weaker than they? We have been forced from our home, we have been driven to exile, but only in body. In our hearts, we are still sons of the desert, hardiest of men. Are we not?”

            At these words a great cheer went up from the assembled mass. “Than it is settled” cried Miran “Build the hall as I have said, and count the months! In three years, we shall march back to our land, and with our sons, we shall build our home anew!”

            For some time, the nobles watched as the men finally completed the last house of the town, which Miran then had the honor of naming Falnath Melanar, Hope and Memory. When this final formality was complete, the lords turned their steeds toward the capital, Varaskel. All who thought they could make the trip were invited to follow them, as their families still awaited them there. The rest would follow with Sir Dunstan as soon as they could.

            The news of John’s leaving had surprised the people when it came, for he had been among them for no longer than a month, but had, in his actions, managed to endear himself to many of the people. Therefore, when a Gairbairian runner brought the news of the lords’ approach, people were lining the streets by the time the men in question had actually entered the city. Once again, Valun was relegated to the least of them as one of his companions came among their people again. He laughed a little to himself as he watched John accepting the people’s cheers. The man ahead of him was certainly not the serious, sharp-faced man he had known. Armed with a better understanding of what the man had gone through, the Corridane was happy to share in the joy which John now displayed.

            It took them some time to reach the gate of the castle, but when they arrived they were admitted immediately. Dismounting, they gave their horses away to attending stable-boys, paused to steady themselves on the solid ground once more, and entered the hall. When a herald tried to announce them, John bade him be silenced, for he wished to introduce the others on his own.

            They stood back while the attendant opened the door for them, and then strode in; John at the head and the others two steps behind him, Valun on the left and Miran on the right. A guard attending the king’s seat called out as they walked. “Who walks in the king’s hall unannounced?”

            John answered as if the guard had no business being there at all. “Go and find your king. Tell him he is keeping his fellows waiting.”

            The guard understood what this meant and soon disappeared through an obscured door in search of the king. At the sound of the voices, servants had appeared from nowhere. They were soon sent off again by John in search of food and drink. Meanwhile, the nobles seated themselves at the long table which every king’s hall seemed to have available.

            Only a few additional minutes had passed before Elmbran entered the hall, close behind the provisions which had been found in the kitchen. As a show of courtesy, Valun and Miran rose when their host entered, but were soon seated once more. Swallowing his draught, John then rose and addressed his brother.

            “To you, my esteemed brother, king of the land, I present two others. Valun III of Corridane, called invito rex and also mac dilis, and Miran of Gairbairia, called the long-suffering, whose people have just completed their home in exile on the land you so graciously gave them.”

            John resumed his seat. Miran then rose and added “On behalf of my people, I offer many thanks for your hospitality.” By this time, he was done eating, so he did nothing more.

            Then Elmbran answered. “Upon my word, I can not say what would have brought the lord Valun here. Miran I understand, but why Valun?”

            Valun, who was finally satisfied, rose. “It is a personal matter, good host. You will discover in time what I have come for. Your kitchen and your cellar are excellent.” Without further ado, Valun stepped away from the table and stepped back outside, leaving the three men inside still wondering what his intentions were. It was Miran who broke the silence. “There is nothing waiting here for him. He is looking for my sister. It would be right to let him be for this time.”

            Once outside, Valun had called for his horse once more. When the animal had been brought to him, he climbed aboard and they started off at a walk. Valun did not hazard a guess at exactly where he was making for. Instead, he let the horse have his head. Ironheel had come from the royal stables of John’s family and knew what he was about.

            In this place where war had not come, there were many people going to and fro on the streets. Some greeted the foreign noble cheerfully, some merely bowed, and still there were others who simply stepped out of his path. Valun acknowledged every one with happy indifference.

            In time, the horse’s nose led him to a tavern which evidently held a high reputation among all classes of society. Damp and shining laborers sat outside, rewarding themselves for their previous work. These men gave him a tired wave which he returned, disregarding ceremony.

            Within the building, he found an eclectic mix of laborers, artisans, Ronairs and Gairbairns. Remembering his ten years in the country, he procured a seat for himself among the native people and slipped into their tongue with little thought. He did not speak himself, but merely listened to these men pour out hopes and fears as fast as they took in the brew they seemed to subsist on. Some that were there worried that the influx of Gairbairn refugees would be a hindrance to their own trade, but more open-minded individuals were assuring them nothing of the kind could happen; those in the city now were old men and families; the working men had stayed behind, invaded, they said, by a horde out of the south. Beside, there was rumor that the Gairbairns would be building themselves a new city to the south, by the grace of the king.

            Wishing to quell the fears, Valun then spoke in support of the more favorable party. “It is true. I have seen the place. The Gairbairn men built it with their own hands, and they have come to claim their fathers, and their mothers, and all their children and take them back to the place they have built. Their king too I have seen. He is a cripple, but carries a great bow and speaks well. It would not be wise to anger him. You should give them welcome: they protected your homes as well as they protected their own.”

            The blusterers took aim at that. “But they did not protect their homes. That is why they are here on our land! What use have we for hangers-on and weak men?”

            “You can not be made to understand what men like these know. You would not last a week among them.” Leaving his opponents spluttering, Valun crossed the hall into the midst of the old men, most of whom were obviously Gairbairns. Stepping near the one who seemed most awake, he spoke loudly so the man would be sure to understand.

            “I have a message for the lady. Will you bring me to her?”

            The old man started at the voice. “But why should you want to speak to her? Who are you?”

            “Who I am you will discover in time. I wish only to ask for her aid in those I wish to heal.”

            “Well than, I suppose you’re all right. I’ll come too. I’ve had enough of it here.” Before the man could reach the small purse he carried, Valun had retrieved his own and slapped two coins on the table. The old man squinted at the coins. “Why, that is too much. Those are the largest coins I’ve seen in an age.”

            “It is no matter. I only ask that you come along with me.”

            In response, the old man rose and gestured that Valun should follow him. Outside the door, Valun started for his horse, but his guide stopped him. “You will not need it, sir. The streets of my people are close by enough to be no matter to your young legs.” Obediently, Valun followed.

            In only a few minutes, they were met by Ronair men who had been ordered by the king to stand guard against the more unscrupulous men of the city. At a few words, the two passed into the refuggees’ sector without a challenge. The path the old man followed meandered through several turns. At each of these the guide stopped to ask his direction from a countryman who was nearby. At last they spotted the Princess emerging from a small house near the end of a street. The guide hailed her and she stopped, allowing them to come within a few feet.

            “My lady, this man has asked to find you. He did not tell me why. Do you wish me to stay nearby?”

            “No, Trajan. You may return to your family. I have heard that your son is one who survived.”

            Trajan’s face lit up. “Thank you, my lady.” Bowing deeply, he hurried away.

            “Now you, whoever you might be, speak your message, and be quick about it.”

            “If I might have your pardon, lady, it is not a message one is easily quick about. It would be an honor to accompany you in your rounds.”

            “Perhaps you may, it depends on what you intend me to hear.”

            “First, I came here in the company of a man who says he is your brother, called king by your uncle, who died in an attack on the emperor who drove you to this place.”

            Before he finished, he could see that the news had a great effect on her. When he finished, she turned and hurried back into the last house she had entered. She returned shortly and explained “Now my mother will have peace, but most of all if I go and bring Miran to her before the morrow.”

            “May I walk with you, than?”

            “I have no objection to a man who has brought such happy news.”

            They began walking, making a sharp turn to the right which led to yet another street full of Gairbairn tenants. Now that the time had come to actually say what was on his mind, Valun realized that it was probably the hardest thing he would do in his life.

            “Do you remember, seven years ago now I think it was, the great fair your father held to commemorate some event, that you would recall better than I…”

            “Yes, it was a celebration of his tenure, I think.”

            “There was a quiet lad there, close by the palace, who worked in silver. It was said that he had been directly by the king of Ronaiera. The Princess took many of the things he had made, just as his king had before.”

            “Who told you all this? Did you find him later?” The Princess asked, puzzled. Then, as she looked into the Corridane’s eyes, she seemed to see something there. “But wait a moment. Does everything have to be a puzzle to me? You are that silversmith, that boy who announced so proudly that you had sold to kings. You were strong then. Are you not still?”

            “I am, afraid, my lady, that I am not, any more. During that time my country was ravaged, my father imprisoned, the hope of my people lost. When you saw me in my castle, I had barely begun to try to heal the people. I have not healed. I have made peace, but healed I have not. My father that I worked so hard to save was killed before my eyes. My greatest friend has gone on the same path. I need a strong lady to help me in my path. I desire that it be you. Will you do this?”

            “Surely there is some girl of your own country willing to be your queen?”

            “They would all hide from me and say it was humility.”

            “Nevertheless, I think you should consider what you ask more heavily.”

            “That I will do, if you will in turn consider me.”

            “You may speak of this again tomorrow. Now give me peace.”

            “Farewell, good lady.” With a flourish, Valun turned away, making for the tavern beside which he had left his horse. His hurried step and long stride brought him to the place in a few short minutes. Upon arrival, he was pleased to find that his horse had been tended to and was waiting for him.

            Feeling ready to trade cheers with any man on the street, Valun entered the tavern again, ready to consume large amounts of hot food once more even though he had recently eaten at the castle. In the doorway, he held up a hand until the proprietor caught his eye. “Meat and ale!” he announced over the heads of the other guests.

            Quite suddenly, as he looked down, Valun caught sight of John seated in a corner by himself, his back to the common fire. Making his way through, Valun appropriated the bench across from the prince and attempted to get him speaking.

            “Well, hello, lord prince. Why do you find yourself here?”

            John took a draught from the beer he had ordered earlier and snappishly replied “Going where I wish. That’s why? What prompted you to be condescending to me, the ranking crown prince in this land?”

            “Mere companionship. Nothing more.”

            John rose from the table. “Well, I would thank you to keep your companionship to yourself. When I want it, then I will ask it of you.”

            Valun, who was still waiting for the sustenance he had requested, watched the prince depart, puzzled and hurt that the man would not speak to him. But then the meat arrived, and he abandoned all pretences in order to fully enjoy it. He promptly decided that it was excellent and that he would commend the place to the king when next they met.

            As it happened, John’s irritableness did in fact arise from Valun’s presence at the place, and the reason for it was that he intended to ask the Princess for her hand himself. Thus, he was furious with himself for having goaded Valun into making the journey for himself, when otherwise, he, John, could have asked and awaited the decision without any other interference. After a pause to release the tension he had allowed to build up inside, he continued on foot in the direction of the Gairbairns’ quarter.

            He approached the guard and told the man he was carrying a message for the lady. The guard knew his face, and so he passed through without comment. He did not any particular direction, but turned at crossroads only when he felt he had gone far enough. After some time, he looked up only to see that the lady herself was approaching him from the other end of the street. He stopped and she continued to approach.

            He had not often seen her so cheerful. “Well, lady, what brings this lightness to your being?”

            “My brother. I have just told my mother, what I heard from the Corridane, that my brother lives and is present at the court.”

            Hearing this, John’s bitterness toward Valun rose to the fore again. “I was there with him. The Corridane was not. Had I known that you were unaware of your brother’s arrival, I would have told you first.”

            “As it happens, you did not. But come with me anyway. You would not have searched me out without an excellent reason, or were you simply lost?”

            John turned alongside her so that he was now walking on her left. “I was not lost. Now that I know this, I am not sure I intend to tell you what I came for.”
            She laughed. “Let me see if I can guess; Are my men troubling yours in any way?”

“No.”

            “Have you quarreled with my brother, and so you wish me to come out on your side? That I can not do.”

            “Then have you come to ask when we will roll up our tents and get out of your sight?” She was still smiling. It began to tell on him.

            “I’ve come to you to ask for your hand.”

            “Oh, certainly! I’ve known you would since we landed in Corridane. For a mysterious man, you don’t hide very well at all.”

            The revelation that his secret heart had been no secret at all astonished John no end. “As you knew that I would, and I now have said it openly, it is as good as said, and I await your answer. I want you to know that I wish only to cheer you, because to do so would be supreme happiness to me.”

            At the end of this pronunciation, the Princess turned away and hurried ahead of him. John, however, stood where he was, afraid that he had produced precisely the wrong reaction. He decided to find his way back to the tavern, wait there for a time, and, if he could, make his peace with the Corridane monarch, who might still be there.

            The Princess, meanwhile, made her way toward the palace, where she hoped to find her brother and an answer to her troubles. Sure enough, upon entering the hall, she found a man she recognized as her brother deep in talk with their host. She did not heed what they were speaking about; she only cried out towards them in greeting.

            At the voice from the doorway, both kings looked up. When Miran recognized who it was that had entered, he rose from his seat and made his way across the floor toward her, while she did likewise to make the task easier upon him.

            They embraced for a moment at pure joy for having found each other in the world again. Then they stood back from each other and asked together “What brings you here?”

            With the support of his sister, Miran began to move back to the seat he had occupied. As they walked, he said simply “I came in search of you.”

            When he was seated, she answered “And I came in search of you and an answer.”

            “What sort of answer? You have been here far longer than I have. You must know all the answers the people want.”
            “This day both the prince and the Corridane have asked me for my hand. I never expected such a thing to really come to pass, and it has torn me. What am I to do?”

            Miran almost laughed in the face of his sister’s distraction. “What to do when two nobles ask you that question is simple to the mind of a man; choose one, or give them both reasons why they’re not worthy of you. But for now I say to you go and shut yourself in a room and think about where your path lies. You would not want to be down here if either of them comes back for an answer any time soon.”

            The Princess merely nodded and departed upstairs. As he watched her go, Miran remarked “It is almost as if men enjoy springing traps on themselves. But very well, if they did not the world would be orderly. What say you?”

            “I am in agreement.” replied Elmbran, who had been a spectator to the whole scene. “Think you I should call my brother off?”

            “No, lord host, for this is not our battle. Your brother and the Corridane must accept the resolution as peacefully as we must simply watch it unfold.”

            Privately, both lords guessed that the suitors would not take long to return. They were not disappointed, as they arrived together. They had been talking the whole way, and once they entered, each of the four men asked the other two who had just appeared “You know the whole story, do you not?”

            As a caution to the others, Miran remarked “I do not think this is something that can be decided in only hours. We must have patience.”

            In correlation of her brother’s words, the Princess did not announce her decision after one day, two, or even seven. Ten days passed before she made peace with the life that lay before her. On that day, when she appeared before them in the hall, the men rose as if they had been shocked. One or two of them attempted to speak, but a gesture silenced them.

            “I shall go with the Corridane, for he has shown great strength.” Now she addressed herself to Valun directly. “When I came before you it was by john’s request, not yours, I knew. When you saw me I knew that you had not expected it and did not know what you should say, except that you were going out on a quest to find your father. In these past days I have thought of many things, and finally I remembered that encounter, and how it proved that you know where your heart lay. It was not for your sake, or mine, that you did this, but that of your people, and especially your father. I admired that, and so I say that you may take my hand, and we shall go and rebuild your country.”

            There was silence for a long minute. Then Valun said “It is an honor, my lady. I thank you for the long thought you have put into it.” Turning to John, who stood beside him, he said “I will speak no more of this. It is done. I believe you, too, will let it lie. You shall be welcome in our hall.”

            When these solemn declarations had been made, Elmbran spoke. “You should remain one more night at least. We will feast all who shall come here, in mutual honor to all our lands for the destruction of the evil which hung over us.”

            Everyone present accepted this statement enthusiastically. Orders were given that the kitchens prepare an enormous meal, and word was sent out to the people that they should select who among them would be the representatives. It was also ordered that men of Gairbairia should claim as many seats as the hosts would.

            The day passed, and as the news spread, people began to celebrate joyfully, although only few of them actually knew or really cared why this had been suggested from the palace itself. In the meantime, Valun paid the Gairbairian queen mother a visit, and she accepted that he had been accepted by her daughter.

            And in time, dusk came, and the people gathered, and the feasting in the hall and the holiday in the city continued long into the night. Everyone ate, everyone drank, and no one could move the next morning.

Chapter 49

Chapter LIII

            At length, the festival finally came to a close. Valun followed Miran’s advice and withheld his grave announcement until the time came for him to declare the celebration over.

            At that time, he stood on the steps of the temple, for that was the most open space in the city. “My people, we have feasted well. We have drunk well. We have fought and wrestled and run each other unconscious for the sake of happiness. And now, before you return to your homes, it behooves me to say to you: Do not forget the brave ones! Those of your friends and brothers in arms, whose death resulted in your happiness! I honor all the thousands who died, in Brandia or here in the city. Foremost among them, I name the Twenty, living standards of courage and dedication to your freedom! But foremost of them all, in rank, and, I hope, in honor, I name Sir Richard Longfurrow, ignis leon, commander of my forces at the battle here. I give him honor!”

            At a signal from the king, footmen appeared from the wings carrying bundles of the swords Richard had won. They laid the Naibern blades in a pile, which they built up in an interlocking circle through which a standard could be dropped. When it was complete, the sword of Kalveston, which had a hilt of gold, was brought to Valun and given to him. Valun spoke again to the people.

            “Before me you see all the blades sir Richard captured. I have it from men who were there that sir Richard defeated thirty men in single combat, nearly all when there were two or more attacking him. At the last, Sir Richard fought the emperor of Naibern, under whose orders our land was ravaged. He lost, but in defeat he slew our enemy also, and so brought the hope of peace to all the lands. I call now on James, the Survivor, to come before me and all of you!”

            The people knew quite well what was going to happen next, but they reveled in the sight of it all the same. James, who had been standing in the middle of the crowd unknown, began making a path for himself when he heard the king call for him.

            “I am James, called the Survivor, last of the house of Longfurrow.”

            “As such I recognize you. It is a right of mine to do this, since you are the last: I name you the Longfurrow, equal in honor to the head of any house but the king’s, now, before you are of age. And with that honor I bestow upon you the helm and sword of Richard, who received the blade in honor from his father, and with them I offer the lasting glory of your house: the blade of Kalveston of Naibern, the most dangerous man of our time, whom your brother slew before he died. Rise with the title your father received from mine, as James, earl Longfurrow.”

            James, who had knelt, rose humbled by the king’s solemnity. “It is an honor to accept everything you have offered me. The emperor’s sword I will place above my chair when my house is built anew. I still have wealth: that at least was not taken from me. I will pay the best men alive to rebuild my hall, and I ask that those who tended the Longfurrow land when we prospered, return if you still honor my house. I will have no servants; you will all still be free. These are my words as the lord of Longfurrow.”

            Carrying Richard’s helm and the sword, which had been repaired, James left the way he had come, carrying himself with perhaps an overly pompous pride at being named earl at the age of seventeen.

            Robert, who had been standing in the background, moved forward, allowing himself a quiet laugh. “So it is the dead men who gain all the glory?”

            “It would seem that way. Some men do not believe your courage until you have died.”

            “It was a good show” said Robert, watching the crowd disperse. “I will do the same as he did. Pay the best men to rebuild my house, I mean. But I must do it soon; my mother is old and my sister barely remembers what it looks like.”

            “Than don’t do it that way. Build it as you would build a house.”

            “It is another way to honor my father.”

            When the last of the audience had made their way out of the space, Valun turned to Robert and said “Find John. I want to send him to Ronaiera.”

            “John? The last time you sent him anywhere, disgrace came of it.”

            “Ronaiera is his homeland, and I trust him now. He has proved to be a man of great worth. When you have found him, bring him to the castle.”

            Robert knew there was no answer to this thinly disguised command. He saluted and went in search of John.

            Valun, in the interval, made for the castle himself, and was barely seated in his throne again before Robert, with John in tow, had entered his presence. They both acknowledged the king, and John subsequently found himself a seat.

            Valun did not rise from his seat to greet them. “I know you better, now, John, than I should ever have thought to before. I know that I can not command you, but yet I have to say something which you might wish to hear: I ask no longer that you pretend to be under my command, but I do ask that you will do this one thing for me: accompany the lord Miran to the camp of his people in your homeland, and deliver to his sister the message that I will greet her with honor if she agrees to come to my home.”

            “In deference to your command over this house, I can not very well do as you ask, for I know the lady you speak of better than you do, having traveled with her here. She is not likely to do as you wish. The two of you have hardly seen the other and you expect her to come riding straight to the gates if you send word by a messenger. You should come yourself.”

            “I can not depart this land again. I have spent too long away from my people.”

            John rose incensed. “With respect to your honor, I have spent years as a slave in my own homeland because your father could not control the ambitions of his own chancellor. Rather than hiding out in a cottage while other men fight, bond yourself as a servant to one of your own people, and live like that, experiencing abuse from the dregs of the free society you should be commanding, before you sit up there and call on other men to make your calls as you have said.” snatching up the few items he had brought with him, John left the hall. He could soon be heard in the courtyard, shouting for his horse.

            “He will leave now, and Miran with him. Richard has gone before us. It is only you I have left, Robert. What do you say?”

            “I am at your command, but I am not surprised at his reaction.”

            “As my father would have told me; you must deliver your speech before opening your mouth. I have failed again. Saddle my horse! I will overtake the lords!”

            At the king’s words, two attendents came forward to take the king’s ceremonial gear and brought him a heavy riding cloak instead. At the same time, another man departed for the stables, but made it there only moments before the king himself. Valun then took the work of preparing the horse upon himself, talking to the animal and generally waking him up. By the time Valun was in the saddle, provisions had been found for the journey. These were brought to the courtyard by Robert himself.

            “Goodspeed, my lord.”

            “May this be my last great ride in peace or war.” Valun answered. Reaching down to clasp Robert’s hand in farewell, Valun added “I will make it so. I want to feast in my hall again before the moon is out, if I may.”

            The two men grinned as if this were a jest between the two of them. A moment later, Valun prodded his horse and was clattering off down the road which led toward the main gate and out.

            There is little to be said of Valun’s ride, save that he had soon caught up with the other two lords, who were going the same direction at a slower pace. A tacit understanding was forged between the Ronair and the Corridane, so there was little speech until they reached Carribeasa, where again a boat was hired to take them to the far shore and come back at times to watch for them.

            The crossing did not take more than one hour by the clock, for Valun had asked for haste of the rowers, and they would not deny their lord. The moment the craft hit the Ronaieran shore, the lords disembarked, with John taking the lead. At Miran’s request, he turned them in the direction in which he expected to discover Dunstan and the Gairbairian survivors.

Chapter 48

Chapter XII

             

            Again, it seemed that hardly any time had passed before Miran, newly king in exile, returned to John’s side. Now that everything was finished, John finally had the leisure to be astonished by the events.

            “How did you come here? Had the emperor drawn you into his service?”

            Calmly collecting his shafts from the bodies of guards, Miran answered “I would die first. I came here on the boat from Corridane which was ordered to meet you on the coast. They stopped at my island and I requisitioned passage. I got in by claiming I was a healer. The coast is only a day out from here, or less.”

            John, who was now up and about collecting blades from the soldiers, remarked “15…16…17…- He said that” with a gesture toward Richard “Before we left, “If we die, we shall walk to the coast, and so you see we shall not fail to escape.”

            “That we may do for them. King Railon we will bury on my island, but Sir Richard we shall bring home. It is fitting for a great hero.”

            “24…25…26…- How shall we do that? We are weak and he was a tall man, as you see.” John paused as he reached Richard’s own blade. He did his best to clean it and then went to lay it beside its owner. “I have it. We shall need a cart to move all the bodies. Our friends shall have to come out that way too.”

            His quiver filled, Miran hobbled to John’s side, leaning on his bow, now unstrung. “I would say that was easier said than done. But now I have seen you destroy the entire palace garrison.”

            “45.” John announced, dropping the last sword onto the pile he had built up. “And if you counted the guards we fought in the streets, I would not be boasting to say that Sir Richard, King Railon and I defeated 70 men in open combat, between us, if you insist upon discounting your own involvement.”

            “We will pass easily. When they get word that their emperor is dead, for good or ill, no one will care about two men dealing with dead soldiers.”

            “Let them deal with their soldiers. There are only two men here we want.”

            Miran nodded in assent. Their task completed, John went out to acquire a cart. Almost an hour later, after some trouble, he returned. They dealt with their fallen friends as gently as they could, but the dead mens’ size hampered them much, especially since Miran was weak. They requisitioned several cloaks from the Naibern corpses to hide the origin of their burden and set off, John walking and Miran riding the horse which was pulling the cart.

            Miran guided, as he had come that way only a week before. They paused little and moved at a walk to remain steady. It was nearing twilight when they saw the shores of the lake open out before them. They paused there in indecision because John had not been present when Richard had chartered the boat; he had assumed, as Richard himself had, that he would eventually survive what was to come.

            After some wavering, they caught sight of a sail on the horizon, so John drew in his breath and shouted simply “Boat yonder!” hoping it would carry over the water.

            In very little time they became aware that the boat was moving toward them; it seemed to have heard the message. Twenty feet from shore, the boat paused and the rowers began coming in more slowly so as not to ground themselves on the bank. As soon as the situation allowed it, the boarding plank was put out and a man who was presumably the master of the vessel stepped out.

            “We were hired by Sir Richard, lord of Longfurrow. I do not see him. Say where he is or I leave you here.”

            Miran spoke. “He is in the cart, alongside my uncle, Railon of Gairbairia. They were both killed. We were their companions.”

            “Sir Richard is dead? When will it end? It was he who brought us news that the old king we waited for had died. He was a great general. I fought under him.”

            John was becoming impatient. “I admire your sentiments, man, but you know as well as I that we must bring him home as fast as we may.”

            Before the journey, John had removed Richard’s helmet from his head, with a thought toward such an idea. He brought it now to the captain. “Have a man place this on the masthead. Your countrymen will know what it means. And send four men down here to help us.”

            “As you say, sir.” The captain took the helmet almost gingerly and turned away. In a few minutes, Richard’s distinctive black plume was flowing from the masthead. While this was going on, John and Miran had boarded and found quarters for themselves. But when this was done, they returned to watch over the passage of their departed friends, who were brought aboard by four of the strongest men on the boat, still shrouded in the Naibern cloaks. At the last moment, John remembered the blades he had managed to pile up at the far end of the cart. signaling three men to come with him, he went and retrieved them all, laying them down alongside their conquerors.

            “Let it be known to all, that those great men, and I with them, defeated seventy men in open combat. Let it be known that your sir Richard slew the emperor in fair combat, the like of which I have never seen before! And last, let it be known that your champion’s last words were “long live invito rex! long peace to the people of Naibern!” Let him gain glory in memory, and may his wish come to pass. Carry on.”

            The speech finished, the crew took the foreign lord’s advice and returned to their oars. Soon, the boat was speeding along with renewed vigor, straight north. After some time, Miran had words with the captain, and at his command they turned toward the east. In another two hours, they had beached themselves on the island Miran had lived on since he was a young boy.

            Again at the young king’s word they brought the body of his uncle ashore, along with his gear which had been recovered. Miran then brought them a spade he kept and gave it to the crewmen, who had soon dug a hole ready for the departed lord. They laid him in it facing towards the east, where he had walked for so many years, but kept his blade above the ground. This they laid on the grave with a rock supporting the hilt, so that the blade would catch the last light of the sun as it fell and send this ray out toward his home and his land for all time.

            All this hardly took an hour, and then everyone was back aboard the boat and letting the current speed them toward their home harbor. In three days, they were back in the crew’s homeland and had been brought by a former servant of the Longfurrows to the place where their house had stood. Richard they laid down near his front door, facing toward the capital. His helm and sword they kept, to be given to the king. With these, they took also a large part of the swords Richard had won in his final combats, making sure that the gilded sword of the late emperor was prominent among them. Having come on horses, they took horse once more to speed to the capital.

            To their astonishment, they arrived in the midst of a great festival. Music could be heard from all quarters of the city and many contests of strength and skill were evident on the plain outside the city walls. It was some time before they could get anyone to tell them the reason for the merriment, but when they discovered that it was to honor the life of the late king, the Carribeasans dismounted and hurried to join their countrymen, leaving Miran to deal with the sad news himself.

            It was another hour or more before he was able to find the king of Corridane, happily presiding over a great feast from his throne. At his entrance, Miran stopped a passing servant and requested that he be announced quietly to the king simply as a messenger with important news. Two minutes or more passed before he saw the same man draw close to the king and speak to him. They both pointed toward Miran himself, and then the servant returned.

            “Follow me. The king wishes to hear your words.”

            Miran followed the servant into the small room which had previously been occupied by Robert, but was now empty. As he passed, he saw the king rise and come toward him, waving his people down as he did so. When the king had entered the chamber, the servant bowed and left.

            Tired from unusual exertion, Miran asked for a chair and soon received one. Then he spoke. “I hear that you are celebrating the life of your father. Is it tradition to hold such a festival, or was your father the greatest man of your history?”

            “Perhaps he was. Is this what I have been called away to hear?”

            “It is not. I asked you to hear me say that if you value your heroes, you will be soon be holding another, albeit a smaller one.”

            “Why?”

            In answer, Miran drew forth a bundle, which he unwrapped to reveal Richard’s helm and blade, freshly polished and sharpened the day before.

            The king was amazed. “That you have these-means that my friend, my loyal general, has died before me. Is it not so?”

            “It is so. With his last breath, he cried “Long live invito rex!” so you know that his loyalty never died. Was he the last of his house, or by some chance did someone survive him?”

            “He had two younger brothers, twins. No one knows where one has gone, but the other lives under my protection in the castle. He shall be called.”

            “Do not do that. Save it till the end of your festival. If he hears of his brother’s death now, he will lose his joy. I ask that you present the boy with his gear at the close of the festival, and at that the same time present the people with his lasting fame; thirty swords captured in single combat in a day, and above the blade of the emperor of Naibern himself, whom he fought for five minutes while injured and weak. I think you should give the Longfurrow the first choice of whether to keep the emperor’s blade in his house, also. It would shower praise upon that house.”

            “It is good advice. I shall do it. Will you come and join my people at feasting?”

            “That I will. Is my sister here?”

            “Your sister?”

            “I am newly king of Gairbairia. I heard from her that she would come to your house.”

            “She is here no longer. She departed with John, a prince of Ronaiera. Come now and eat.”

            “John is here too, though I do not know where he has gone.”

            “Then you should speak with him. Here and now we shall feast and be merry.”

            As the two kings entered the hall once more, a band of entertainers who had come in while they spoke struck up a lively tune and the audience broke into the song as the lords moved to the head of the hall.

Chapter 47

Chapter LI

            The men Valun had left behind at the capital had not been idle. The three avengers met daily before Valnor, determining what they would have to do to reach the enemy and what they would do then.

            On the last day, they had all convened at the hall for the last time before riding off. Richard stood over a map which he had requisitioned from the archives. “His capital lies far off our roads. It will take us two weeks or more to reach him where he is.”

            Railon stood, ready to speak. “What if we do not find him there?”

            “Then we will get out of that place as soon as we are able. We are not risking everything to rid the land of Naibern wall sentries.”

            John raised a hand to point at the island positioned in the middle of the great lake. “We should meet there. If we must, we may enlist the help of the prince Miran.”

            “He is a cripple.” Railon objected. “How could he help us in this?”

            John laughed at Railon’s indignation. “I daresay he would like a chance to prove you mistaken on that score. He lives alone. Surely he must be able to work.”

            They all settled down again as servants brought them hot food. Valnor, seated across the hall in the regent’s chair, dined alone.

            Over the venison, Richard pronounced “We ought to have ridden long before this, ye lords. How shall we go about it? Shall we degrade ourselves or not?”

            The other two nodded in acceptance of the plan. “It is settled, because we will have to fight to the death anyway. But we are some of the great blades of the lands.”

            “It is settled.” Richard agreed. “And when we are dead, we shall walk to the coast, where the Carribeasans will be looking for us. So you see we can not fail to escape.”

            This statement made all three men laugh quietly into their beer. When they were able to speak again, Richard added “Mark my words, I did send for a boat from the city to rescue us when our mission is done.”

            Railon let his tankard fall without minding it. “I mark your words. Shall we ride? Time grows short.”

            Rising to acknowledge Valnor, Richard then hailed another servant. “The lords’ steeds, and mine, quickly! We have business in the south!” Still standing, Richard concluded “We may yet rest awhile. They will inform us when our mounts are at the door.”

            Only a quarter of an hour had passed since this statement that it was announced that the horses were furnished and prepared for the journey. The lords then departed the hall and rejoined their faithful steeds. Richard rode a great red which he had brought from Ronaieria. Railon rode a smaller gray he had found in the wilds to the east, and John was riding a feisty brown he had claimed from his brother’s stables.

            They trotted out toward the remainder of the south wall, where three men stood watch to warn of another attack. Richard hailed them as he went by “Tell the king we have gone to avenge our families. We will hasten back to feast at his side again! Long live the king! Valunaria!”

            The guards saluted and repeated the battle-cry, adding “The One grant you victory and peace, lords! We watch for your return!”

            Richard, John, and Railon then found the road which led toward the south border and settled into a smooth trot that would not be broken for hours. They spoke little, for everything had been said on the previous ride from Ronaiera. They rode long by day and rested by night, for not even Richard knew the road, as his land was many miles to the north and east of it. After a week of nothing more than perfunctory acknowledgement of the others’ presence, they began to relate the legends of their homelands around the campfire, and by day both Richard and Railon would spar often with John, who admitted that he was not possessed of great skill with the sword.

            By the end of the week they were deep in unknown Naibern territory, so that they rode more slowly and were always on the lookout for individuals or pairs that they could capture and pressure into bringing them to the capital safely. They had checked and brought with them old trading maps that marked the location of the Naibern capital as being somewhat nearer Railon’s side of the great lake.

            After some time riding straight through the wild, they came across a road which was obviously heavily used. In the distance behind them it appeared to be an extension of the road they had followed out of Corridane, which they now knew to have been built in their tracks by soldiers Damrod had ordered to his side to “keep order”.

            Another three days passed before they reached the city, but when they did, they knew what they were looking at. They approached the walls cautiously, watching for the sentries they expected to see there out of habit. Throwing their cloaks tightly about them, stood some two hundred yards away from the walls, trying to watch the sentries pass.

            Railon took charge, being the most experienced. “Now, how are we going to do this? We have no bows and no way of scaling those walls.”

            John was studying the gates, trying to decide whether they would be simple to force through or not. “We are not here to follow all the rules. We should move up after dark and break the gate.”

            “And have every man in the city on us in a moment?” scoffed Richard “I say we simply hail the guard and give him the password.”

            His companions turned to him, astonished. “Hail the guard and give him the password? Are you suddenly desperate to die?”

            “Well, I am going to try it. See what happens. Think who we are dealing with; an emperor who clearly thinks the rest of us can not live on our own. Remember Goman and Berunthia.”

            Clapping his helmet firmly on his head and gripping his blade with renewed urgency, Richard moved out into the open, every muscle tensed in preparation to leap out of the way of a missile. When he had walked twenty yards he stopped and shouted “Halloo! Guard yonder!”

            In the distance, a head appeared between two ramparts. “Man down there! Tell the password or I’ll skewer you with this arrow where you stand!”

            “Hail Kalveston! One world, one Naibern!” Richard promptly dove to the side as the others called “He’s gone.”

            Springing to his feet once more, Richard replied “Than we shall have to move swiftly, if we want to reach our goal!” At the same moment, all three knights broke into a run. At the wall, they leaned against it, facing outwards with blades drawn. Then they held their breath until they heard the sound of the doors beginning to open.

            On the instant, they sprang out from the wall and ran straight toward the widening opening. There were six armed men opening the gate, with two standing as lookouts. Richard and Railon charged the lookouts first and knocked them to the ground, slain. Then Railon went to John’s aid while Richard attacked three on his own. Knocking one aside with a shoulder, he caught a blade on his own and released one hand from his hilt to grab the sword wrist of the third, holding the man’s arm in the air while he fought the other. By this time, the third man was up again and was attacking Richard’s free arm. In the cramped quarters, the blows were not strong, so Richard simply released the arm he held and ducked out of the way, point forward into the man in front. While that one died, the others grew tangled with each other. Though they disengaged quickly, Railon arrived then from the other side to finish them off.

            The three invaders reconvened in the center of the space, cleaning their blades with strips from their enemies’ jerkins.

            “We should not have to do that again.”

            “But we shall have to if we are to defeat the emperor. No doubt he has huge numbers at his call.” Railon remarked, pausing to bind a wound he had received in the fight.

            “The one to reach him gains a fine cask of wine and the seat of honor. Do you accept?”

            The three men shook hands and then began jogging off down the nearest street, side by side. The people they met seemed horrified by their appearance, scurrying away as if they hoped they would not be spotted, but the three northmen did not slow their pace to discover the reason. Their whole intent was to reach the castle.

            They could tell that they would soon reach the castle when they began meeting bands of guards with increasing frequency. These patrols were always larger than their own group, so even as the invaders greater skill always won out in the end, the great numbers they faced soon began to draw more northern blood than could be spared. The champions left the corpses behind in the streets, always more lightly dressed than they had been in life.

            They finally rested in a deserted doorway off a side street and refreshed themselves with the provisions which had been issued to their late antagonists. All three had scavenged heavy Naibern shields at some time or another, but only Railon had kept his. Consequently, he was wearing fewer scraps than the others.

            Richard flexed a sore knee that had developed in the course of the brutal street fighting. “How many more of these ghostmen must we push through? They go down so easily, but there are two many of them! We will not live out the day like this!”

            John unwrapped an arm to examine its progress. “That, coming from the man who spent his life carrying a sword, like you did, is much in the way of defeat.”

            From his position astride the doorway, where he was watching the street, Railon said “We are too recognizable now. Every man in the city knows we have each killed twenty of the emperor’s troops. We will not escape. I say we rest right here and push on tomorrow. They know we are headed for the castle. They know we are dangerous. I think they will fall back to defend the gates. When we do not come to meet them, they will doubt.”

            The younger two were not in a condition to argue the point, so they all went off to find spots in the house to sleep across the doorways.

            They rose early the following morning and met before venturing out to reassess their prospects. Not one had lost any sleep to the hard wood floors, as their previous exertion had rendered them incapable of remaining conscious long enough to notice anything.

            Their blades sharpened, they left the shelter, Railon and his heavy shield taking the lead. With a glance, they were able to determine their path by spotting the towers of the castle. In marked contrast to the hard fighting of the previous day, they met no one on the streets.

            “Perhaps their emperor has ordered them not to face us.”

            “Perhaps he has laid some trap. I do not like this silence. They say it is always most quiet before the storm.”

            “A mass of men like those we have left in our wake, a storm?”

            “You must be silent. A loose tongue can get you slain faster than an arrow.”

            John, sufficiently chided, fell silent. They had now passed through three streets and expected to come under attack at any moment. However, nothing happened until they had come up right upon the palace steps. There they were met by at least a score of heavily armed Naiberns.

            The northmen were not at all surprised by the positioning of so many enemies. What astonished them was that, upon the sight of them, every one of the defenders hurried inside. The door closed behind them.

            At that, the self-styled avengers huddled together on the steps which had just been vacated.

            “It is a trap. Most certainly it is a trap. So many together ought to have attacked us.”

            “But we are beholden to the memories to go on. Would you fail your brother? Your father? I myself have a whole family to avenge. I must go in.”

            “I must go with you. Our honor would be stained if we did not go in. If we die, we die in honor. If we live, we are the greatest heroes of the age. Does Gairbairia stand with us?”

            “I never dreamed my days would end in such a fashion, but I will stand with you, for if we fail now, this emperor will besiege us and sack our cities until none our left who can claim to be free of him. Gairbairia stands with you.”

            As the three knights locked blades in solidarity, Richard remarked “To the death be it. You know he will shut the doors behind us. Our people will never find our remains. May they live in peace till the end.”

            Swords drawn, they put their shoulders to the door and shoved. They were met by a solitary man in ceremonial gear. He wore no armor, but held a drawn blade in his right hand. His scar stood out vibrantly as he said “Yes. I know. You’ve come to kill me. Which of you is man enough to try me first, or are you deciding to break all the rules and go as one? You should. You might actually succeed that way. Be quick. I do not wait for lower men like you to make up your own minds. I do that for you.”

            Shocked by the man’s coolness, the companions stood rooted in place, wavering.

            “You have not chosen. I, Kalveston, master of men, victor of a score of battles before you were grown. I who choose my destiny and choose to command the world, declare you dead men.”

            As if on cue, all the doors sprang open, emitting numbers of soldiers greater than that which had retreated inside. There was no time for another word. The wounded northern warriors were hard pressed for their lives the moment the soldiers appeared.

            While the battle went on, Kalveston stood as a spectator for a few minutes, but then, seeing that the “dead men” were not falling under the great odds, disappeared through a side door.

            The three men went on hacking at and skewering at the Naiberns for such a time that it felt like the whole world had been consolidated into a wall of malevolent animated statues. In very little time, moments had stretched into the proverbial hours. On a whim, Richard shouted his battlecry, just to prove that he was alive. The calls of Ronaiera and Gairbairia soon followed, telling Richard that his companions had understood his meaning. In the small room, the warcries reverberated off the walls, pounding in their ears.

            Richard decided to push his way toward John, knowing that the younger man could not match the skill of himself and the desert king, and could have already received a mortal wound. The Corridane pushed his way to the prince’s side by strength alone, and was relieved to find that the Ronair had managed to place his back to the wall, though he was already bleeding.

            “How much longer can you fight?”

            “Are you jesting? Until I die! Until you die! Until Kalveston dies! No more speech until we are drinking his wine!”

            Placing himself alongside John, Richard replied “Agreed!”

            Not long afterwards, the world began to change. John and Richard both, much to their dismay, were using captured Naibern blades, those of their fathers having snapped on the attack of some Naibern plate. Suddenly, a new sound came into the fray; that of arrows in flight. The knights glanced at each other but did not speak. At once, they swept up heavy shields which lay nearby alongside their dead owners, even though they had given up on the cumbersome gear when they had far more strength to spare.

            But to their astonishment, the arrows they heard did not fall anywhere nearby. They came but infrequently and then seemed to land in the backs of the attacking Naiberns. Several more minutes passed and the darts persisted in downing their enemies. Finally, there were so few of the Naiberns left that Richard and John were able to push forward and eliminate all but three of the defenders. When this was done, they sagged to the floor, watching in astonishment as three arrows appeared from nowhere in quick succession to slay their would-be killers.

            With the last of the Naiberns dead, Richard and John were finally able to catch sight once more of Railon the traveler, king of Gairbairia, who lay dying in the field.

            The two survivors dragged themselves to his side when he called their names. Tired as they were, they spoke loudly to him.

            “It is over. We have won.”

            “If you must go, rest in peace, brother lord. You have done a great deed here. We can not count how many we have sent before you.”

            “Than I have done it. I have avenged my brother, my people. What of the emperor?”

            “We did not see him.”

            “I must go. I must go to the island, see my brother-son, and call him king. It is right.”

            At these words, a cloaked figure carrying a bow and an empty quiver, who appeared to be hunched forward and wore boots of soft skin, hobbled forward. The hood was thrown back to reveal a young man already scarred with years of endurance.

            “Uncle! Do not pass on yet! I am here! I have done what I could but it seems I came too late. For that I grieve. Speak, uncle!”

            Railon was too weak by now to care how his nephew the prince came to be there at his side. He simply lifted his hand and said with his last breath “Rise Miran the long-suffering.” His arm fell and he died. Miran closed the eyes and then rose to go.

            “I am sorry I can not help you further, but I am defenceless and must return to hiding. May the One keep you.”

            Almost as soon as Miran had disappeared, Kalveston returned through his own door. He still was not wearing armor.

            “Young fools. So you managed to kill them all? But you lost one. The “Traveler”, I see. He gave me months of trouble in the East. If he wasn’t so determined to kill me I would have gotten him to join me. He has gotten his pay.” While he spoke, Richard had risen again, calling on stores of strength he had not known existed. “Are you ready to die too?” Kalveston scoffed. “Well then, on guard.”

            John sat and watched as a duel between two masters began.

            After a two minutes, Kalveston began talking again. “I saw your father die.”

            “He probably spat in your face.”

            “Come now, do you think I would parade myself before a dead man? There is no glory in a death, except my own.”

“I knew it was you who ordered my house burnt.”

            “Your father did not have the sense of a mule. He could not see that all resistance is futile. Kalveston rules all. Kalveston outlasts all. All returns to him.”

            Richard did not answer this and the duel continued. After some minutes of furious  blows, Richard’s weak leg buckled, causing to fall to one knee. In response, Kalveston dropped his own weapon and grabbed Richard’s wrists, slowly turning the blade until the Corridane was forced to stab himself.

            When Richard was beyond hope, Kalveston released his grip and remarked “Your father died the same way. Everyone who angers Kalveston does.”

            Though he felt his life failing, Richard saw a last chance to finish his task. Snatching up Kalveston’s blade, which the emperor had neglected to kick aside, he dug the point in his enemy and cried “John! Help me!” John immediately leapt up and hurried over, snatching the wrists of the shocked emperor and wrapped them around the hilt. Thus the two knights finished Kalveston, who commanded his own destiny.

            “Die I will, but you shall go with me. I take pride in dying as my father did. Long live invito rex! Long peace to the people of Naibern!” With these words, Richard collapsed and died. John finished the grisly task and then found himself waiting in room of death for Miran to return.