“My King, I seek no pardon, nor do my comrades, I deem”-Arlan, Roka, and Young Kemp stood with their heads bowed-“levy what punishment fits the transgression, yet whatever that punishment may be, I ask that you let us fight at your side in the coming conflict.”
Long Aranor stood in thought. At last he turned toward the five of them. “This, then, is my decree: should there come a time I need emissaries to carry word ’neath a grey flag, you five shall bear that flag. And should some hot-blooded foe decide as you did that the flag has no meaning, then so be it. Justice will be served.”
“Sire,” objected Young Kemp, “tha ha’e tarred Armsmaster Ruric wi’ the same brush as ha’ rightfully slathered us. Yet he were no’ a part o’ it, an’-”
“Quiet, lad”-Ruric’s voice stilled the protest-“the King ha’ spoken.”
Aranor rubbed his gritty eyes with the heels of his hands, his voice weary. “Ruric, remain here. You too, Reynor. You other three are dismissed. And on your way out, tell Hrosmarshal Gannor and his Captains to attend me.”
Clenched fists to hearts, Roka, Arlan, and Young Kemp saluted the King and spun on their heels and marched from the War room. Pages were signalled and chairs were drawn to the table. And when Gannor and his retinue entered, they found King, Princess, Armsmaster, and Castleward Captain seated ’round the great table, awaiting them.
Aranor shook his head and sighed. “Ah me, this I do not relish. Yet let it be so: Let the balefires atop the Warcairns be lit throughout Jord; ride the Realm with the red flag, for War is come upon us, and we must muster to drive it back whence it came. Let those who can come now do so in haste, for in a fortnight we shall set forth. Let those who come later ride straightaway to Kachar, they will find us encamped before the Dwarven gates. It will take much to bait these badgers from their den, and we will need all strength to do so.”
Gannor nodded to one of the Captains, who called a chief herald unto him and spoke in a low voice. And as the Captain gave over his words, the look in the messenger’s eye became steely, resolute. And upon receiving his charge, the herald withdrew. Within moments the fire atop the beacon spire would be lit, its ruddy message burning in the night. At distant points, on knolls of hills and rock built towers, watchers would see the flare, and put the torch to their own beacons, the signal flashing across the Realm, searing through the darkness. And horsemen would hammer out from gates to spread across the Jordreichs, red flags whipping in the swift air of their passage. And everywhere the Harlingar dwelled the call to arms would sound, the knell of War upon the Land.
After the rider had gone, all eyes fell upon the King. “Well then, Fortune has turned her second face to scowl down upon us, and I deem long it may watch. Let us now make careful our plans to keep her unseen third face gazing elsewhere.”
Aranor stood, sliding back his chair and leaning forward on his arms, palms down upon the great table. “Unroll the maps and let us lay out this campaign, and see to the needs of the Realm as well, for we cannot let the Land lie undefended.” All about the table, chairs scraped back as others rose to their feet, Gannor reaching for the map case. “Too, we will have an army afield, and much will be required to sustain it.” Aranor paused, glancing at Elyn, awaiting some signal from her.
After long moments, her eyes met those of her sire, anguish in her gaze, and she nodded but once, bitterly accepting the fact that the Realm needed her as Steward during the long days that were to come. At this sign, Aranor stepped to her and held her close. Yet this time his embrace did little to take away the bitterness she felt at accepting this onerous duty, for it was vengeance her heart cried out for and not the care of a Kingdom.
Hrosmarshal Gannor unrolled the chart showing the area of Jord where lay Kaagor Pass. Elyn could not help but note that beyond the Grimwall where stood the Realm of Kachar the map was blank, and she wondered at this portent.
O’er the next fortnight, swift heralds bearing red flags raced ’cross the Land, and every day the muster at Aranor’s keep grew. In ones and twos riders accoutered for War drifted into the campsites ’round the walls. At times, Warbands of twenty or thirty arrived. And slowly the ranks swelled.
On the third day ’neath overcast skies six wains stood in the bailey. And to and fro, in and out of the castle servants bustled, lading the waggons with goods for a lengthy journey. In her chambers, Arianne took one last long look about and sighed, for on this day she and Bram and three Ladies-in-waiting-Kyla, Elise, and Darcy-were to set forth under heavy escort for the Court of her father in Riamon. Seeing nought to keep her in these barren quarters, Arianne hoisted Bram up and stepped toward the door. But as though he realized that they would not soon if ever come again to this room, the young Prince reached out his wee hands calling for something, using words from his own private language, a language only he could understand. Arianne cooed, but Bram was not to be mollified, and struggled to be let free. Setting the child down, the Princess watched as Bram scurried across the floor and scrambled under the bed, emerging triumphantly bearing his favorite toy: the little silver horn.
“Ah, Brammie, I should have known we could not leave that behind,” said Arianne, smiling. . smiling perhaps for the first time since. .
Again Arianne took up her babe, and this time he contentedly allowed himself to be borne from the room.
As Arianne stepped down the long straight staircase, below she could see the great entry hall; and at the foot of the steps awaited Aranor and Elyn. There, too, stood Mala. And from the left just entering the vestibule came Elise and Darcy, weeping, their arms about one another. Bringing up the rear was Kyla, her countenance somewhat stricken, yet at the same time looking as if a great romantic adventure awaited her, an adventure that beckoned irresistibly.
And as the three Ladies-in-waiting came to the staircase, Mala snapped, “Hush, you silly gooses. Don’t you know that the Court where you are bound puts this one to shame?”
Elise and Darcy cried all the harder, and Kyla pouted up and began weeping as well.
Exasperated, Mala turned her back upon the trio, though Elyn stepped to each and embraced them in turn, whispering, “Care well for Bram, he is the future of Jord. Care well, too, for the Lady Arianne, for in these darkest of days she needs you most desperately.” At these words, Elise and Darcy managed to stifle their tears, though Kyla’s weeping intensified.
Arianne came to the bottom of the steps, and Bram reached out for Aranor. Taking the babe from his mother, the King turned and strode for the hall doors, followed by the six Women. “You shall be borne down through Jallor Pass, south and west of here some one hundred fifty leagues. Then it’s south and east to the Court of your sire, eighty or ninety leagues more.”
“I relish not this prospect of being so far from home,” whispered Elise.
“But don’t you see,” quavered Darcy, “this is the adventure we have longed for since we were but little girls: travel to a great Court in a far Land.”
A muffled sob was all that Kyla could utter.
Attendants opened the doors, and the entourage paced out onto the marble veranda and down into the bailey. There awaiting them stood the escort: fifty Men ahorse; but for one. Red-haired Aulf stepped forward, Captain of the escort. “My Liege,” he said, saluting the King, his voice resonant. Then, turning to Arianne, “My Lady.”
“Aulf,” responded Aranor, “from this moment on, I be your Liege no more. ’Tis this wee bairn that be your Lord and master now. This I charge you with: that you and your Men take him and his mother to safety in Riamon. Remain at his side, and when it is his time to return, when Jord be free of War, then bring him home. Keep him safe from all harm, for it is his destiny to one day rule this Realm.