A Coronation of Kings Read online

  ‘Milord, what do you mean?’ Malus implored, fearing to hear the answer.

  ‘I will give these murderers what they seek,’ declared Marcus soberly.

  ‘No, Father you mustn’t. We can beat them back,’ Tristan pleaded desperately.

  ‘Tristan, you must listen to me now and do exactly as I say. These men will kill you also. Our line will not end like this. You are to go with Malus. He will see you safely through the night.’ Marcus embraced his son, hugging him tightly. ‘I love you, Tristan. Now go and make me proud.’ Turning to his aging counselor he spoke. ‘Malus, my faithful friend, keep him safe.’ Marcus gave his son a final embrace before pushing Tristan and Malus through the door into the house.

  Malus grasped Tristan by the shoulder and led him through the manor. It was deserted. ‘Where is everyone?’ Tristan asked.

  ‘In hiding, where we will join them,’ was Malus’s curt reply. Malus led them to the servants’ quarters, a small room beside the great hall.

  ‘We will surely be discovered,’ Tristan replied. ‘As soon as they breach the manor, we are as good as dead.’ Malus shut the door behind them, seemingly immune to Tristan’s protestations.

  ‘Malus, this is madness,’ Tristan declared longing with all his soul to follow his father back into the yard.

  ‘Not so, Tristan. You have much to learn about the world in which you live. Not all is as it seems at first.’

  With that, he beat his staff against the door and chanted in a deep voice, ‘Enearthum.’ Tristan could feel a force ripple through his old teacher. Then before his very eyes, the wall before him appeared to melt and shift until where the door once was, now stood only solid stone.

  Tristan started in wonder at his mentor. Malus patted the stone where the door had once been, ‘that should do the trick.’ Malus turned to find the servants and Tristan staring at him, their expressions ranging from amazement to fear and everything in between.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ he started, ‘Lord Marcus instructed me to see you safely through the night. When the danger is past, you are free to do as you wish, but life as you know it in Listarii Manor is over. These bandits are marauding soldiers and will see this place burnt to the ground. Any witnesses will suffer a similar fate.’

  ‘What if we are here? If the manor is torched, we will perish with it,’ a terrified servant spoke.

  ‘My illusion will keep us safe in here,’ replied Malus. ‘When the danger is past, I will have honoured Lord Marcus’s last request and you will be free to stay or go as you please.’

  Malus moved towards the window and stared out into the yard. Tristan followed him. The battle for Listarii Manor was taking a turn for the worse. The manor guards were perishing. The foe swarming around them seemed without number. Slowly but surely black-clad bandits took their place on the wall and began driving them back to the keep.

  Tristan could see his father amongst the guard being thronged by the enemy. Lord Marcus came from a lineage of proud warriors who had carved out their title with sweat and with the sword. Since the day he had assumed his father’s mantle, Marcus had worn out his life defending his people. He would not yield an inch of earth un-fought. Wherever he appeared, his claymore glinted in the moonlight as it fell upon the enemy. Bandits died in droves trying to subdue him. Two of them charged towards him only to be hewn down like wheat before the harvesters’ scythes.

  The host pressed on and a trail of them soon littered the yard, but with every man that fell another stood ready. The hopelessness of the situation settled upon Tristan. There were only a handful of manor guards left when suddenly, there came a halt in the fighting and the bandits drew back a pace as a figure pressed through their ranks. As he reached the front line, he surveyed the yard, with scattered bodies strewn across it.

  Turning to the lord of the manor, he spoke with obvious contempt. ‘A noble effort, Marcus. It’s a terrible shame that all your efforts will be in vain. When the sun rises, you will all be dead and your constant hindrance to my father’s planning will cease.’

  ‘Falen, is that you hiding under there? Does your father lack the courage to come himself? Instead he sends his wastrel son to run his errands for him.’

  ‘Not at all, Marcus. He just didn’t feel you warranted the effort.’

  ‘Lacking foresight as usual, you butchered half your force with that lackluster assault. You would think the Wolf pack were being led by kitchen maids these days. Well, a kitchen maid or the village idiot. Frankly, I’m having trouble deciding which of them would be as wholly inept as you’ve proven to be.’ Lashing out, Marcus struck down a bandit who had strayed too near.

  ‘Well, those kitchen maids put your petty forces to flight within half the night. We should have done this years ago.’

  ‘It will be a difficult thing to explain to the Council. The fact that the Wolf Host was decimated the same night as the Listarii were slaughtered. You will be laughed out of court.’

  ‘My father has been building his strength for years, Marcus,’ Falen sneered and paused deep in thought. ‘The men we have lost here are but a drop in the ocean. You, however, will lose everything.’

  ‘It will take more than the useless son of a power-hungry fool to kill me.’ Lord Marcus lifted his sword high into the air and shouted ‘Men of the manor, with me!’ Lord Marcus and the remaining guardsmen launched a furious assault into the heart of the Wolf that were occupying the inner bailey.

  The two forces met in a clash of steel with the Wolf not wanting to yield. Nevertheless, they were cast aside like rag dolls in the face of the primal rage of Lord Marcus, his men only a pace behind, every man willing to lay down their life in defense of their homes and families.

  The Listarii were hopelessly outnumbered but being inspired by the better cause they fought like lions. Lord Marcus was enraged, his huge claymore cleaving left and right, cutting through the bandit’s leather armour as if it was paper. Marcus hurled himself towards Falen, but the Wolf moved to block his advance. The first two barely had their blades lifted before Marcus was upon them...

  Bringing his claymore around in a wide arcing motion, he struck home. Their armour offered scant resistance and both men went down in a crumpled heap. Others moved to take their place, but they suffered a similar fate. Slowly the Wolf seemed to lose their enthusiasm to join their fallen comrades and withdrew a pace. Another careless Wolf that was caught too close was cleft from neck to navel.

  ‘Falen, must all your men die before you’ll face me?’

  ‘Not at all, we need someone to witness your fall, the great Lord Marcus, hero of the people, slain by a pack of bandits. Falen started towards him pressing through the black-clad warriors. As he reached the edge of the circle, Marcus called to him. ‘You ought to draw your weapon boy. I’ll not kill an unarmed pup, even if he deserves it.’

  ‘You’ll not kill me at all, fool.’ With that he drew a hand crossbow from under his coat and sent a bolt hurtling into Marcus’s chest. The high-powered bolt punched through his armour and buried itself deep in his chest. The force of the bolt took Marcus by surprise and he dropped to one knee.

  Marcus looked down at the bolt in his chest, and ignoring the pain, he drew a short breath and began to stand. The Wolf swarmed in eager to claim their prize. Marcus lashed out and the Wolf continued to fall. With each stroke the claymore tore through flesh and bone. A second bolt tore through the melee and caught the Lord of the Listarii beside the first. Marcus felt it tear through his armour. Breathing became increasingly difficult and he dropped to his knees in pain.

  Falen casually discarded the crossbow and strode over to where Marcus was kneeling in the dust staring at the bolt. As he reached the wounded Listarii lord, a smirk crossed his face and he batted the blade out of Marcus’s weakened grasp. Marcus looked up at Falen and asked ‘Have the Wolf no honor?’

  ‘Marcus, you will soon be dead. What good will your honor be then?’

  In deep laboured breaths, Marcus responded, ‘
You are an insult to your ancestors, boy. They would turn in their graves if they could see what their line has become.’

  ‘Enough!’ shouted Falen, drawing his sword. Without hesitation, he plunged it through Lord Marcus. The Lord of the Listarii groaned in pain as he collapsed.

  Watching from the window, Tristan screamed, ‘Father!’ Tears streaming down his face, he fell to his knees. Tristan struggled to tear his eyes from the ghastly scene before him. The last of the manor guards had fallen before the onslaught of the Wolf. The remaining enemies were turning their attentions to firing the manor. Torches were placed against the exposed outer timbers and hurled onto the thatched roof. The soldiers waited patiently outside to kill anyone who fled the burning building.

  ‘We’ll be safe in here, Tristan,’ Malus comforted. ‘Stone does not burn.’ Tristan watched as several soldiers picked up his father’s corpse and began loading it into a wagon.

  ‘Malus, what are they doing with my father’s body?’

  ‘It appears Falen wants to take a trophy home to show his father.’

  ‘A trophy!’ exclaimed Tristan. ‘That miserable little retch. My father will receive the burial he deserves.’

  ‘You are right, Tristan. We will stop them but just wait a few more moments. Things are moving far quicker than we anticipated.’

  ‘Who is ‘we’? Are you telling me my father was expecting to die?’

  ‘All the answers in time, Tristan, but as we have little to do until they leave, I may as well give you some of the answers. ‘We’ is your mother and I. We counseled with your father long ago, knowing this day might come.’

  ‘My mother? What do you know of my mother?’ Tristan queried.

  ‘I know a great deal as I have served your father since before you were born.’

  ‘Since before my mother died you mean?’ queried Tristan.

  Malus leaned close so that the staff huddling in the corner could not overhear, ‘No, Master Tristan, since the day your mother left.’

  ‘Left? What do you mean left?’ whispered Tristan furiously. ‘She died giving birth to me.’

  ‘No, Tristan, she did not. That is what the people were told so that they would suspect nothing was amiss. She left to take your brother to safety.’

  ‘I have a brother?’

  ‘Yes, a twin. You are the oldest, your brother was the younger and for reasons I cannot explain, he needed to be raised elsewhere for his own safety.’

  ‘So they are alive, even now?’ So many emotions coursed through Tristan as he struggled to come to grips with this news.

  ‘Yes, or at least I hope so. I do not know exactly where, but I have an idea. What I do know is that we prepared for this day long ago. We knew your father’s enemies were growing bolder and would act against him so your mother gave him a gift of great power. Do you know the red amulet that he always wore?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Tristan. He had seen it many times. His father was never without it. When occasion permitted, he wore it with pride, but Tristan knew from experience that even when his father dressed for battle the amulet remained in its place under his armour. ‘I know it well.’

  ‘Good, because we must retrieve it. Your mother insisted that if your father fell, the amulet must never be lost. I think it is much more than the trinket we always supposed it to be.’

  ‘How are we to take it from them?’ asked Tristan gesturing at the retreating Wolf guard.

  ‘I don’t imagine it will be easy, but they cannot travel in that large a group without drawing attention. I imagine they will soon break into smaller units to return home. We just need to follow those who have taken your father’s body and create an opportunity to take it.’ Malus suggested, ‘I could provide a serviceable distraction.’

  ‘If you can do that, I will slip in and take the amulet,’ Tristan replied, taking comfort in the semblance of a plan forming.

  ‘Okay, then let us be after them, Tristan. It seems they are dispersing.’ Turning to the huddled manor servants, Malus spoke loudly, ‘Lord Marcus thanks you for the service you have rendered and releases you this day. Take your families and find refuge. Do not speak of what you have seen here and you should be safe.’ Malus walked back to the wall where the door had been and tapped it with his staff, the door quickly materialised and he opened it.

  ‘Come, Tristan, we will need your weapons and supplies. Are the weapons in the armoury?’

  ‘Yes, they should still be in my lockbox.’

  Tristan led Malus through the manor which was now ablaze—the retreating Wolf had torched many of the buildings before leaving and the manor was quickly being consumed. The pair made their way through the front doors towards the armoury. Tristan kicked in the door sending splinters and embers everywhere. The sturdy armoury had withstood most of the damage from the fires but the wooden supports and interior had finally caught alight, it would not be long before its structural integrity was compromised.

  Tristan led Malus through the armoury to his personal lockbox. Tristan quickly swapped the heavy chainmail and gambeson for a lighter leather jerkin. As he changed, he spied his weapons from earlier in the day stacked neatly in the bottom of the box. He quickly drew several of the knives and tucked them into his boots, before fastening several of the shuriken in a pouch across his back. Pulling the hand crossbows, he gave them to Malus. His old teacher smiled before saying, ‘Tristan, it should be apparent that I have little need of such things for my protection, but you should take them for the road as we may yet need them for food.’

  ‘You make a good point,’ replied Tristan, tossing them in a carry pouch with a purse of coins. ‘We must be on the road quickly. They may be on foot, but they already have a good lead on us. If we take some horses along the hunters’ road we may overtake them before they reach Belnair. The dense woods should also give us an opportunity to get near them before being discovered.’

  Minutes later Tristan and Malus were galloping into the woods at the back of the Manor; Tristan stole one final glance at his childhood home which was now burning red against the night sky. Tristan wondered if he would ever return. Forcing such thoughts from his mind Tristan turned his mind to the task at hand.

  The hunters’ road was a narrow game trail that ran from Listarii to Belnair, passing through many of the choicer hunting grounds in the region. As he settled his mount into a steady gait, Tristan’s mind settled on one thought… Falen and what he’d do when he caught up with him.

  Chapter 4

  The horses had made good time; Tristan eyed the forest trail and reckoned they were nearing the edge of the woods that divided the provinces of Listar and Belnair. Tristan and Malus had hidden themselves by the main highway that led towards town. Secluded in the foliage at the top of a small rise, the lingering pre-dawn darkness provided a perfect place to spring their trap.

  ‘Tristan, I think you should make your way down to the bottom of the hill,’ Malus stated. ‘I will draw their attentions thus if you are nearby, you will be able to sneak amongst them and find your father. Remember to grab the amulet and get out. Do not stay for anything for if you do, you will surely be overwhelmed.’

  ‘How will I know when it is time?’

  ‘My signal will not be a subtle one, Tristan; you will not be able to miss it.’

  Tristan made his way to the bottom of the hill. Spotting a large oak that would serve his purpose; Tristan scaled it and crawled along a large bough that spanned the road. Tristan hoped that an attack from above might give him the edge he sought. As he waited, Tristan wondered what Malus had in store for the Wolf. The revelation that his old teacher possessed magic had caught him off guard—it opened a whole new realm of possibilities that he could scarcely fathom.

  As Tristan sat pondering, he heard the Wolf approaching. They were not making any effort to hide their approach, clearly under the impression that their work was done and the danger was far behind them. Their only concern was to be back in their barracks before sunrise. Tristan could see t
he column approaching. Evidently the raiders had broken up into smaller parties in order to return home without attracting any unwanted attention. Tristan seethed at the malicious forethought with which the attack had been executed - it had obviously been carefully planned and prepared for months.

  All that mattered little now. Tristan carefully measured the odds stacked against him. There were three wagons and a small group of guards and from his vantage point the wagons grew as they drew nearer. Tristan could see the faces of the soldiers in the first wagon, amongst whom Falen sat, cleaning blood from his sword - his father’s blood. Tristan felt rage welling up within and had to remind himself of Malus’s earlier counsel. This was not the time for revenge, there would be time, enough for that later. If I survive, that is, Tristan thought, before forcing himself to refocus on the task at hand.

  With the first wagon occupied by the Wolf, he knew that what he sought must be in one of the remaining wagons. Waiting carefully Tristan concealed himself atop the oaks’ thick bough, striving to stay out of the view of any wandering eyes. One wrong move would see him surrounded by the murderous and merciless foe.

  As the second wagon approached, Tristan could see within, instead of soldiers, it was empty save a large form covered in a sheet of linen. Tristan knew he had found his father. As it approached, he waited for some sign from Malus that it was time. He looked towards the crest of the hill where he knew Malus must be waiting. Tristan was startled to see his teacher standing in the middle of the road his cowl drawn up concealing most of his face, his staff held firmly in one hand, its end planted on the dusty road. It was an eerie sight in the moonlight.

  The Wolf must have seen it too because there was a shout from the front of the column; one of the soldiers pointed and shouted at Malus. If he heard them, he paid them no heed. He simply raised his hand in front of him as if he were holding something and his mouth began moving slowly, steadily, purposefully. Tristan could not make out the words, but a strange feeling filled the air. It reminded him of how he had felt as Malus had turned the door into stone at the manor. Suddenly, there appeared in the air before Malus, a ball of fire. The Wolf stood entranced by the hovering ball of flames as it simmered and coalesced before them.