Legacy of light, p.36
Legacy of Light, page 36
He turned slightly in his saddle to look at Rissa, her pale skin shone bright in the watery moonlight. “Terror is only one of the things I feel right now, sister.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he raised his voice. He infused it with steel, admitting to none of the fear he felt inside. “The plan stands. We all know what we must do. Wait for the signal and pray we achieve this with minimal loss of life.”
“Trystan.” Lonara’s voice floated softly out of the dark. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the castle with magic? Drake will be waiting for you, and he will not be as concerned to the wellbeing of the innocents as you are.”
“We can’t use magic when we don’t know where we stand. Magic cannot differentiate between loyalists or traitors. Let us decide that. You just make sure you and Coille get everyone inside at the signal.” Nudging his horse, and with a slight wave of his hand, Trystan started down the small incline to the castle below. Only five others followed his lead; Rissa, Avery, Edric, Alixa, and Rion. The rest remained hidden in the shadows as commanded.
The towers of the castle, visible above the gates, were awash in welcoming light and back-lit with a thousand stars. The sight of it was inviting and welcoming and would have warmed his heart if he had any heart left to care. Knowing his father no longer waited inside, but instead his treacherous uncle, filled him with a deep-seated need for revenge.
The horse’s hooves echoed in the arid night air. The weather had changed again. Cold escalated into a simmering heat, relieved only by the coming of dusk. The heat of the day still lingered on his skin and he wiped the beads of sweat from his upper lip.
“Ri, as soon as I give the order, raise the signal. We cannot have the guards locking our people out. Avery, you take the left guards, Rion, the right. Do not take any unnecessary lives. We do not wish to cause harm to any still loyal to us—”
“We know what we have to do, Trystan.” Rissa’s curt words interrupted his. “Drake and Royce are the only lives we take tonight.”
“For once we agree, princess.” Alixa’s voice floated over Trystan’s shoulder, adding to the unease caused by his sister’s callous words, but he ignored it. He had much bigger things to worry about at the moment.
Torches burned at the castle wall entrance, firelight glimmering off the thick iron gates. Shadows lurked beyond and disembodied voices floated out to them as they brought their horses to a standstill just out of the range of light.
“Who goes there?” a voice asked. “Identify yourselves.”
“Is that you, Fields?”
Silence followed Avery’s question. Then, “Who’s askin’?”
“It’s me, Avery. Open the gate. I’ve brought the prince and princess back home.”
A longer silence.
“You lie. The royals are dead. King Drake said so.”
“King Drake? How can Drake be king when Trystan Renauld is still very much alive?”
Murmuring and shuffling from inside met Trystan’s ears. The guards argued amongst themselves. Sliding from his horse, he walked slowly into the firelight. “Avery does not lie, soldier. I have returned and I am your rightful king. Open the gate and let us in.”
The guard’s broad, flat nose squished as he peered through the iron bars in disbelief. “Impossible. You all died in the Isenore mountains. The king said so. He also said we ain’t supposed to open the gate for no one without the captain’s permission.” He squinted into the torchlight. “Although you do kinda look like the young prince under all that hair.”
Trystan spread his hands wide, trying to assure the guard of his identity. “My uncle was… mistaken, as you can clearly see. And I understand you not wanting to disobey orders. Call for Captain Brown, then. Tell him of our return. He will know what to do.”
The guard grew silent and shifted his eyes away as if struggling with his words. “Brown ain’t the captain no more. King Drake had him arrested and imprisoned for treason weeks ago. Patterson is our captain now.”
“Treason?” Trystan snorted in derision. “And you believe that? Brown was as loyal to my father as I was. There was no way the captain was involved in any sort of treason. You lot should be ashamed of yourselves for going along with that sham.”
“Who said we went along with it? And it ain’t King Marcus he’s accused of treason against. It’s King Drake. Can you prove you’re the young prince?”
Trystan narrowed his eyes. “Can you prove I’m not? And if I am, will you take the chance of disobeying me, Lieutenant Fields?”
Fields hesitated for a moment before flashing a mouthful of broken teeth. “Well played, young sir, and I believe you. But I still can’t disobey captain’s orders without risking my neck.” He turned and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Go fetch Captain Patterson. Tell him he’s needed at the gate.”
“The Captain’s already retired for the night. He’s not going to like being interrupted,” a voice answered back.
“Yeah, well you ain’t gonna like my boot up your arse, boy. Now go fetch him and tell him we have someone at the gate claiming to be Prince Trystan.”
“Prince Trystan?” Trystan heard the questioning voices as more faces crowded the gate and stared out at him.
“It can’t be him, can it?”
“It looks like the young prince, but it’s too dark to see proper.”
“Yeah, I think it is.”
“It’s an imposter. Has to be. The royals are all dead. King Drake said so.”
Trystan ignored the blabbering as his companions dismounted from their horses and joined him at the gate. This was it. He glanced over at Rissa as his hand settled on the hilt of his sword.
“Ready, sister?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Another commotion followed in the courtyard and the staring guards scattered as a bevy of soldiers emerged from the shadows. Even in the low firelight, Trystan observed the shining new armor and honed blades. As they approached, he identified the colors of Isenore. These were not his father’s men.
“Open the gate.” A taller shadow moved into the flickering light and Trystan recognized the hawkish features of Patterson, a man he remembered as an average soldier, but yet was now somehow the captain of the guard instead of the fiercely loyal Brown. Patterson had clearly chosen a side, and it wasn’t Trystan’s.
Trystan’s heart pounded in time with the clanging of the metal gears as the heavy gate began its ascent. Walking abreast with his companions, Trystan slowly made his way into the courtyard of what was once his home. The rising gate made one final jump and settled against the stone wall with a resounding clank that faded into a pregnant silence.
Fields broke the stillness. “Captain, the young prince has returned home. King Drake was mistaken—”
“Imposters!” Patterson bellowed. “Trystan and Rissa Renauld are dead. Arrest these frauds.”
“Drake is the only fraud in Dreach-Sciene.” Rissa’s steel tone cut like blades through the courtyard, halting the soldiers headed their way. “He is not your king and those who follow him willingly are traitors. Your king stands right here. Trystan Renauld and I, Rissa Renauld, are alive and well and are back to claim what is rightfully ours.”
Rissa threw her hood back at the same time Trystan drew his sword and held it high above his head. The unmistakable Renauld emblem sparkled in the firelight.
“My sister speaks the truth. I’ve come to take my kingdom back from the false king you’ve been following, and with the sword my father bestowed upon me, I will do just that. Who will follow me in the name of my father? In the name of King Marcus Renauld?”
Gasps and shouts filled the courtyard.
“It’s really them.”
“It’s the Toha’s sword, all right.”
“They’re alive.”
“Nonsense!” Patterson screamed again. “The Renauld children are dead. Arrest these people immediately. King Drake has ordered them to be brought to the throne room.”
The finely dressed guards at his back moved in unison to do his bidding, showing clearly where their loyalties lay.
“Now, Ri!” Trystan yelled as the rest drew their weapons and prepared to fight.
In one swift movement, Rissa drew the oiled arrow from her quiver and stuck it into the nearest torch. As it burst into flame, she aimed it high into the ink colored sky. The fire arrow was met with the thunderous sound of pounding hooves and battle screams as their reinforcements answered the call.
Trystan could see the moment realization set in on Patterson’s face.
“Close the gate!” Patterson screamed.
“Avery,” Trystan swallowed the acrid taste of fear that coated his tongue and bellowed at the sword master. She was closest to the gate and the only hope to stop the soldier about to slice the heavy rope keeping the gate open. She moved at Trystan’s yell, but before she could intercept, Fields leapt at the Isenore soldier, tackling him to ground. Yanking the soldier’s sword out of his grip, the squat-nosed guard smacked the hilt into the soldier’s face, blood and teeth splattering the pristine tunic. The man stilled as Fields turned wild eyes on Trystan and teeth flashed in his wide grin.
“Welcome home, your Majesty.” Field’s gaze switched to the shocked gate guards. “Men, protect our prince and princess at all costs!”
The order was all they needed to mobilize them into action. Field’s men surrounded Trystan on both sides just in time to collide with the oncoming horde of Drake’s new soldiers.
“Protect Alixa and Ri,” Trystan yelled at Edric, but his command was lost in the clanging of steel against steel. Trystan ducked just in time as a broadsword came straight for his head. Pivoting low, he shot out with his own blade and struck the soldier in the back of the knee. The soldier screamed and fell as his leg nearly severed at the joint.
Leaping nimbly to his feet, Trystan yanked his sword up to his chest as another blade crashed against his. Both men stared into each other’s eyes, swords locked, as Patterson lowered his head so his nose almost touched Trystan’s.
“You shouldn’t have come back, you stupid boy,” he hissed, spraying Trystan’s face with spittle as he spoke.
“You shouldn’t have chosen the losing side. So who’s the stupid one, really?”
Trystan stepped back far enough to break the stalemate and slashed low at Patterson’s stomach, but the man blocked his attack effortlessly.
A smile of complete arrogance crossed the older man’s face as he stepped around Trystan. “You forget, boy. I’ve watched you train with Avery and the rest of us since you were a lad. I know your every move. There’s nothing you can do that will surprise me so—”
His words cut off abruptly as an arrow sliced clean through his eye and protruded through the back of his head. Trystan caught a movement in his peripheral and whirled, sword up, as Rissa hurtled into view.
“You were taking far too long, brother, and we still have to find Drake. Our soldiers can handle this.”
She pointed with her chin at the people now storming through the gate, Coille leading the way. Their screams and battle cries were meant to intimidate but were totally unnecessary. It took only mere moments for the Isenore soldiers to throw down their arms once they realized they were severely outnumbered.
“Trystan,” Alixa gasped in relief as she ran to his side, her eyes devouring him for any sign of injury.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “But we need to do what we came for. Patterson said Drake was waiting for us in the throne room.”
“Aye, with a hundred more guards, no doubt.” Edric said as he joined them. “And Royce Eisner.”
“Doesn’t matter if he’s guarded by a thousand loyal to him,” Rissa growled as her grip on her bow tightened. “This ends tonight.”
Trystan gave a quick nod of agreement. “Lonara, Fields,” he called, and the Tri-Gard member and guard strode across the courtyard at his command.
“Fields, how many more of those new soldiers does Drake have at his command?”
“Probably another twenty or so inside, your Majesty. They are Isenore soldiers. I always thought something wasn’t right about ‘em being here. And about Brown being imprisoned for treason. None of us thought that was right, but the few who spoke out about it got thrown in the dungeons too, so we learned to keep our mouths shut about it.”
“So the rest of your soldiers are still loyal to us?”
“Until the day we die, sire.”
Trystan was moved by the truthful conviction in the guard’s voice and he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. Now grab some men and come with us. We have a usurper to dispose of.”
Compared to the battle sounds of the courtyard, the castle was like a tomb. The only noise was the echoing of their footsteps as they made their way across the marble floor of the great hall to the arched doors of the throne room where King Marcus once held court with his people. Trystan had many fond memories of that room and they all threatened to overwhelm him right now. The realization that he would not find his father sitting on the raised dais but his uncle instead, hit him like a punch to the gut. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he ignored Rissa’s questioning glance and straightened his shoulders. Two very nervous looking guards on either side of the familiar, carved doors watched them approach with apprehension.
“Stop, in the name of King Drake.” One had enough gumption to hold out his spear in protest at their approach even though the sheen of sweat covering his ashen face belied his order.
“Out of the way, fool. Do you not recognize your own prince and rightful heir to the throne?” The guard’s eyes opened wide at Fields’ words.
“Prince… Prince Trystan?” The guard stumbled over his words. “But it can’t be. We were told you—”
“—were dead. Yada, yada, yada.” Rissa twirled her finger at the guard. “Do we look dead? Now out of the way and let us through to Drake.”
Both men bowed their heads in respect as they stepped away from the doors and Rissa barreled past them, slamming against the huge doors. They didn’t budge.
“What? They’re locked.” Rissa slammed her palm against the carved oak. “Drake, we know you’re in there. Open this door and face us, you miserable little coward.”
“Move aside, Princess,” Lonara called softly and Rissa did just that. The older woman wrapped a hand around the crystal hanging from her neck and gave a slight wave toward the door.
Even though being around the Tri-Gard made magic much less of a shock now, Trystan still watched in amazement as the two massive doors fissured and cracked, then fell inward, creating a floating cloud of dust. Stepping through the dust, they entered the throne room, only to be greeted by a wall of Isenore guards. Their shrill cries of attack resonated off the high ceiling and Trystan raised his sword ready to defend his people, but there was no need. With another toss of her hand, Lonara sent the soldiers flying in the opposite direction and they crashed none too gently into the stone walls and slid to the floor.
Silence surrounded them once again. Tearing his gaze from the incapacitated soldiers, Trystan centered his attention on his father’s throne. There Drake sat, a newly crafted jeweled crown atop his dark head, much more elaborate than the one his brother had worn. More guards flanked him. Trystan wasn’t prepared for the wave of hatred that originated in his gut and rippled through his body, sucking his very breath away.
“Not fair, Trystan. You’ve brought a Tri-Gard member to fight your battle.”
“Just as fair as you betraying your own brother and stealing his throne.”
Drake spread his palms wide. “I had nothing to do with Marcus’ death. My hands have no blood on them.”
“Yet you’ve made a deal with the very people who orchestrated his murder. I doubt your hands are clean, Uncle.”
Drake’s sigh bounced around the room as he stood up. “Trystan, you silly, silly boy. Why couldn’t you have died in the mountains like you were supposed to? You’re as much a fool as your father was.”
“Shut your filthy mouth,” Rissa spat as she stepped toward the dais, but Trystan grabbed her arm and held her back. She shook off his hand but stayed where she was, glaring daggers at Drake. “My father was no fool. Say one more ill word about him and I swear I’ll rip out your poison tongue and feed it to the hounds.”
Drake raised his bushy brows in surprise. “Be that as it may, girl, Marcus was a fool. All the nobles are. You think you can beat Calis with his army and magic? The only way Dreach-Sciene can survive is to ally with Calis. Your father was too pigheaded and proud to see that. He put his own pride before his people. That was his downfall as it will be yours.”
“So is that what you did, Uncle? You chose Calis over your own brother? And what was the deal for us? Were you to hand us over as well? Or were we to die by your decree?”
Drake shrugged with indifference, but Trystan saw through the facade. His uncle was afraid. “I guess now it doesn’t matter. I cannot go up against a Tri-Gard member. You surprised me, Trystan. I never dreamed you would succeed in your mission. But yet, here you are, with Lonara Stone in tow. I’m impressed. But what does that mean for me? What’s next?”
Trystan sheathed his sword and studied his uncle through weary eyes. “What’s next? You will be arrested. Put in the dungeons to await your execution for treason against the crown as will any of your known allies. Guards, arrest them all.”
As Fields and his men advanced on Drake and his soldiers, all hell broke loose.
“Let me go!” Alixa’s scream startled Trystan, and he whirled in time to watch her be yanked back into the shadows. His heart leapt into his throat as the torchlight bounced off the blade at her neck. Royce Eisner stared at him from over his sister’s head, desperation burning bright in his eyes.
