Kings of Ghumai- The Complete series Box Set Page 4

  Halstrom swung his blade a few times, as if he was dueling a phantom, and then returned the ancient weapon to his belt. "I know what you want. I see you admiring those shields that hang up on the walls. How many times did I tell you the story of Andrant? It's all you used to want to hear."

  "A man that loses his hand but still defeats his foe with a shield is more interesting than hearing about men that hack each other to bits," Doren said. There was no other story that fascinated as much as Andrant's. He still loved to hear it to this day, but not from his father.

  "A shield is no weapon on its own. It goes hand-in-hand with a blade."

  Doren wanted to get up and walk out. He didn't need to be chided. His father had never learned what a shield could do because he never bothered to use one. Shields were offensive and defensive. That's what Andrant's tale was all about. It was a wiser weapon than a sword, and it's why Doren had been practicing with one for years. He had even tried to get Julius to focus the training sessions on it, but it was clear that Doren had taught himself better than the head guardian ever could.

  Halstrom moved away from the table. "You will resume your sessions with Julius."

  The King headed toward the door, but Doren was not going to let that be the final say. "I won't."

  Halstrom froze. He had moved closer to his son, but there was still a good deal of table between them. "Don't forget that I am the King, boy. You will do as I say."

  Doren stood up. He was almost as tall as his father and could stare straight into his eyes. He wanted to respond with something vicious, but he could not get past the fear. He just stared, trying to control the terror inside.

  "Want to strike me, son? With what? A sword?" Halstrom taunted the Prince. A foul grin sprung up on his face. "If your mother had lived, you would have had a brother. And I would have made sure that he was a better son than you."

  Doren's eyes started to burn. "If she had lived, maybe you wouldn't have lost your heart."

  Halstrom's twisted grin faded. In its place were sad eyes and a more tired and wrinkled face. "That damn plague."

  Grief for the departed Queen was the only subject Doren and Halstrom could relate. Both of them missed her dearly. It hadn't even been ten years since the Palmarose Plague took her. One day she was fine; the next she woke up smelling like the palmarose flower. In less than ten days, her body deteriorated to the extent that she barely had any skin or hair left when it finally claimed her life. Doren was only eight at the time, but the image of his dead mother was burned into his brain. He wanted to remember the wise and gentle woman that had raised him, but while those memories had faded, the one he most wanted to forget had not.

  "I know I'm not the same, Dorenculous," Halstrom said. "I'm only trying to make sure this kingdom is in good hands when I join her. Because once you're ready, I'm leaving for the Great Bastion. I hate being here without her."

  "You better not leave that soon," Doren said. "I do not want to be king."

  Halstrom rubbed his forehead. "We don't have to get into this now, do we?"

  "You started it." Doren knew his father wanted to hear how little he desired to be king as much as Doren wanted to hear a sermon about skipping jousting lessons.

  "You don't have a choice when it comes to your bloodline," Halstrom said. "You do have a choice when it comes to attending class."

  "I attend certain classes," Doren said. "Like history. So I know there are alternatives should I abdicate."

  Halstrom started getting dizzy at the mere mention of his son abandoning the throne. He grabbed the back of one of the stone chairs to try and steady himself. "They are options of last resort, should you die, not abdicate."

  Doren wanted to know what exactly those options were. He had gleaned general ideas from the texts he investigated, but nothing specific. His father knew more and had just given him the opportunity to pry. "Why should it matter when they are put into effect?"

  "'Cause these other heirs have not spent their entire lives being trained to be king. They are commoners. Sure, they may have royal blood in their veins. But that's only the bare necessity when it comes to ruling."

  So Doren had a larger family out there in the kingdom. He was actually quite jealous of these other heirs. They had normal lives with minimal responsibility. They were free to do as they please, while he was trapped in Castle Tornis. "Do these other heirs have any idea that they may be called upon?"

  "Of course not," Halstrom said. "As far as they and the rest of the kingdom know, you are the only one who may ascend to the throne. It is as Aergo intended. Or perhaps his son, Shine, was the one who started this. Either way, if you've read as much as you imply, you would know that each king has only had one officially recorded male heir. But the unofficial record shows that some kings had as many as ten children. They were allowed to keep their daughters, though the girls were forbidden from having children. But the kings only got to keep one boy. The rest were given away for adoption. They'd never know who their real parents were. And this was for the best. We couldn't have siblings going to war over the throne. We had enough wars in our past. There has only ever been one guaranteed successor to prevent conflict, and it's worked to this day."

  Halstrom removed his hand from the back of the chair and straightened up. "And one reason it's been so successful is no one out there knows about it. You abdicate and they find the next in line. But then the secret is out. Soon every Kytheran is wondering if they have royal blood. And if they do, then they'll question why this heir was chosen and they were not. And then you've brought about exactly what this process was supposed to avert: war."

  "What's the point of it if it will just lead to war?" Doren asked.

  Halstrom leaned closer to his son. "That's why it's a last resort."

  Doren turned away from his father. If he chose to leave Castle Tornis behind, it might lead to chaos. He had been taught all his life to put the needs of the kingdom before his own. How could he make such a decision? But being stuck here forever seemed worse to him; worse than any revelation or ruin. "One of them would probably be a better king."

  "Any of our ancestors could have said that. You cannot forsake this duty. You are going to be king, no matter what ideas you may have or plans you might hatch. And maybe once it's all yours, you'll see why it's important that you stayed."

  There was a brief knock on the door before it swung open. Another castle servant, Linus, marched into the room. "There you are, Your Majesty," he said.

  "Is something wrong, Linus?" Halstrom asked.

  "You would have to tell me," Linus replied. He reached into his robes and pulled out a corked glass bottle. But there was no drink inside. Instead, there was a rolled-up piece of parchment.

  "No one saw you?" Halstrom inquired.

  "I was quite careful." Linus held out the bottle for the King.

  Halstrom snatched it and wiped the few droplets of water sticking to the glass on the servant's robes. He was just about to uncork it when he realized his son was still in the room.

  Doren was gazing at the bottle, curious to know what it could be. "What is in there?"

  "You want to know?" Halstrom said, waving the bottle around as he spoke. "Then let's call this a reason you should not abdicate. For what is in here is for the King's eyes only."

  "Then I guess I'll never know," Doren said, making a mental note to look into it later. He left the room swiftly, not looking back.

  Chapter Four

  The Thief

  Leidess carefully rolled out of bed, doing her best not to wake Aros. It was well past dawn, and beams of light had already broken through the curtains. She always got an early start to avoid tardiness, and despite her temporary relocation, she didn't intend that to change.

  She looked over at Aros, who was still but for the rhythm of his breath. She doubted he ever got up early for anything. But even if he did, he needn't this day. For once, rest trumped everything else.

  She crept out of the room, almost tiptoeing on the unvarn
ished wooden floors. Cautiously, she climbed down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. She expected to eat breakfast alone, but someone was already hustling about.

  "Good morning, Leidess," Maureen said as she lifted a boiling pot from the stove.

  "Ms. Asilias," Leidess said, startled to find her. Aros' mom was dressed in a thin pink night skirt, and her long brown hair had yet to be tamed. "I wasn't expecting...I didn't...Good morning."

  "Oh, I used to take after my son when I was his age," Maureen said. "But when I married his father, I started getting up as early as he did. That hasn't changed, even now that he's passed." She poured some boiling water into the mug sitting on the kitchen table. "Would you like some morseltea?"

  "Yes, please," Leidess answered.

  The kitchen was neat, perhaps because there was so little to occupy it. It was not tiny, but there was only a minuscule sink, one brown cupboard, and an iron stove that looked secondhand. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had once belonged to Ratch. A fresh loaf of bread sat on the oblong kitchen table, along with a cube of butter and a mug of morseltea.

  Maureen grabbed another mug from the cupboard and placed it in front of an empty chair. She poured some morseltea and then placed the pot back over the stove. "Please, sit."

  Leidess sat at the table and took a swig from her cup. Morseltea tasted like honey at first sip but burned worse than pepper the rest of the way down. It was great for waking up in the morning, but she also heard it went well with alcohol.

  "No milk?" Leidess asked.

  "Milk's for the customers," Maureen answered. "We need as many gems as we can muster. Besides, there aren't nearly as many milk cows left as when my husband started."

  Leidess averted her eyes from Maureen. Her family had never struggled like the Asilias' had. Her mother was a jeweler and her father was a baker. They made more than enough gems to care for herself and her younger sister. Raising milk cows wasn't a lucrative venture to begin with. Raising calves and a son without anyone else was admirable, but she could only feel pity toward the woman.

  Maureen cut a few slices of bread and slathered on a bit of butter. She handed one piece to Leidess and started chomping on another before taking a seat. "So," she said, still chewing. "How'd he sleep last night?"

  Leidess' eyes widened. Her slice of bread hadn't even made it into her mouth yet. "So you know?"

  "Aros doesn't like to tell me some things, but it's a mother's job to know," Maureen said. "Do you think I would've let you sleep over if I didn't realize he was having some problems? Every morning he'd come down here and the bags under his eyes would be even darker than the day before. I don't know why exactly he can't sleep, but I'd fathom a guess he was hearing things."

  Leidess just froze. She was impressed that Maureen had figured out so much, but she didn't want to break Aros' confidence by saying any more.

  "Go ahead and eat," Maureen said, waving her hand toward the girl. "You don't have to tell me anything if you're not comfortable."

  Leidess was slightly aghast at how well Maureen was reading her. She moved her bread closer to her mouth and took a bite.

  "I take it since you're down here and he's not, that he's actually sleeping," Maureen said.

  Leidess chomped on her bread without saying anything.

  "That's good," Maureen continued. "Can you tell me how you got him to sleep? I don't mean any offense, but I don't want you staying here every night. And part of that's 'cause I know your parents wouldn't like it."

  Leidess placed the remnants of her bread down and took a gulp of morseltea. "All I did was tell him stories until he fell asleep. He didn't hear anything else as long as I was speaking."

  Maureen considered the explanation. "Makes you wonder."

  "Wonder what?" Leidess asked, slightly puzzled.

  "Whether your talking keeps the voices away, or whether the voices know that you're talking."

  A chill ran down Leidess' spine. She hadn't heard anything last night, but Aros didn't either. Could it be that Aros wasn't hearing things? Was it possible the voice was real?

  "It's actually only one voice, mother," Aros said as he strolled into the kitchen. He was still wearing the gray silk pajamas that Leidess had brought over. They matched her nightgown exactly.

  "One voice or a hundred voices. I'd still be concerned about you," Maureen said.

  "Well it didn't say anything last night," Aros said. He took a seat next to Leidess while his mother rose to fetch him a mug and some morseltea to fill it.

  "What if someone's actually calling your name?" Leidess asked.

  "Then I'd like to know who it is," Aros said. "So I could tell them to shut up."

  After Maureen had poured her son some morseltea and sliced him some bread, she sat back down. "You know history, right Leidess? Ever heard of something like this?"

  "If anyone started hearing voices, they'd usually throw them in a dungeon," Leidess answered.

  "Guess I can start increasing the size of my portions," Maureen joshed. She had always been a thin woman, with skin clutched tight to her bones. While some of her skin had started to sag, she still looked quite good for her age. The roughest part about her was her voice.

  "Leidess told me a real interesting story last night," Aros began. "Did you know that some of Neanthal's army switched sides during the war?"

  "You know I'm not a history buff," Maureen said. "Can't say I care much about Neanthal or Magenine. All that matters is whether those damn cows are gonna produce enough so we can eat tomorrow."

  Aros frowned. "It's interesting."

  Maureen rolled her eyes and got up. "Well, alright. Tell me while I get cleaning."

  Aros looked to Leidess. "Go on. I couldn't tell it as well as you."

  Leidess didn't want to describe a story that Maureen didn't really care about. But with Aros' insistence, she would tell a brief version of what he heard last night. She cleared her throat. "You don't hear much about it, and of course everyone is more familiar with Kytheran traitors than anything else. But some in Neanthal's army deserted him not long after he arrived. They actually pledged themselves to King Aergo and fought against Neanthal during the war. Some even settled in Kytheras once the Dark Reign ended."

  Maureen turned to Leidess, her interest piqued. "So we have descendants of Neanthal's army living among us?"

  "Not anymore," Leidess said. "King Fogg III hunted them all down, afraid they were Thalians. But the evidence showed they were the least likely to be Thalians."

  "Fogg was a dunce," Maureen said before getting back to cleaning.

  "I know the throne is supposed to be occupied by Aergo's heirs, but some of them have been truly terrible," Leidess said. "We should have alternative options."

  Aros placed his hand over Leidess' mouth. "You can't go spouting things like that. The King would lock you away faster than he would me."

  Leidess pulled Aros' hand away from her mouth. "Am I not in safe company?"

  "The windows are open," Aros said, pointing to them. "The walls are thin. And there is little to occupy our guardians these days. They'll be looking for an excuse to ransack houses again."

  Leidess didn't reply. Aros was absolutely correct. The only place they could be sure no was listening was in the Outer.

  "You two should go get ready," Maureen said after clearing the table.

  Leidess' eyes darted around the room but couldn't find a clock. She jumped up, almost in a panic. "What time is it?"

  "You have plenty of time," Maureen said, peering out the window. "Just get moving."

  "Why don't you have a clock?" Leidess asked Aros as they made their way upstairs.

  "It broke a while ago," he said. "We can't afford to repair it."

  "No wonder you're always late," Leidess replied.

  Aros scratched the back of his head as they entered his room. "Mom can tell the time just by looking at the sun. I'm not so good at that."

  Leidess grabbed the fresh pair of clothes she had brought over and
quickly slipped into the black top and pink skirt. She didn't mind that Aros was right there and occasionally glancing at her while she changed. She almost appreciated it. What she didn't care for was that he had picked the clothes he had worn yesterday from the floor and put them back on.

  "If you're going to wear the same clothes, can't you at least soak them beforehand," Leidess scolded him as they appeared downstairs.

  "Don't even bother," Maureen told Leidess as she prepared to send them off.

  "Mom will wash them after a deck or so," Aros said, referring to a period of ten days. "They'll just get dirtier today."

  "That's not the point," Leidess said. She pulled open the front door. "Thank you for breakfast, Ms. Asilias."

  "Thank you for helping my son get some rest," Maureen replied. She spread her arms wide and wrapped herself around the pair.

  Aros squirmed out of his mother's embrace. "Bye Mom."

  Leidess and Aros were struck by the sun's warmth as they stepped out into the sandy streets. It was rarely so pleasant this early in Spring, especially at this time of the morning. Children had yet to make their way to school and were still playing in the streets. The pair were careful to avoid the kids that were throwing wet clumps of sand at each other as they walked. Another set of kids stumbled into them while chasing an overgrown mouse.

  "I don't recall throwing sand when we were their age," Leidess said.

  "They're getting inventive," Aros noted.

  "No one can create anything better than Splitting," Leidess opined. "We should play again one of these days."

  "You don't play it right," Aros said.

  "That's 'cause I can't throw like you. How else would it be fair?"

  "True." Splitting was an old pastime for Kytherans. It involved shooting arrows into a wall and then throwing swords or daggers to try and split the arrows in half. Aros was particularly adept at swordplay and could easily strike the stationary arrows. Leidess was never accurate when tossing swords and always blamed their weight. Yet she had impeccable aim with a bow and arrow, and eventually modified the game so that she would use arrows to split the planted ones. Many of the pairs' games ended in draws from that time onward, but it was more enjoyable that way, especially for Leidess.