Chapter 8

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



Justen hastened into the private room that had been offered him. He all put prowled. His cape flapped behind him, his hands worried together.

He couldn’t seem to connect the pieces. Not in a way that was satisfactory–or would satisfy his father.

The stilted conversation, the unsaid words, the quiet welcome.

He turned as Luther shut the door. Luther held a finger to his lips and slowly came forward.

“We are not really guests of the castle. The ears have walls,” his voice was but a whisper.

“On the lions of Darbenton, what was that all about!”

They’d spent the evening with the king and his court, eating a meal of celebration... listening to the tall tales of the alliance between the two kingdoms versed in song; a show, for their guest; nothing was said of the obvious trouble.

Though he had welcomed him, issued an invitation to break the fast with them, the king said nothing of peace. He had promised nothing, addressed nothing, even though his borders were closed.

Even though it was obvious Darbenton had been willing to risk much.

“Did you expect him to receive us with open arms?”

“We are allies.” Justen mocked. “Didn’t you listen to the songs? Dustiny and my father are friends.”

“There is more going on in the Castle of Fairingham then old alliance. If Dustiny has given his daughters to Gouten, then he has already moved to form an alliance with them.”

“He must know his is trapped.”

“Then he must know that we know. Think, Justen! Use that royal brain of yours. We must keep our guard up and have patience.”

Justen closed his eyes as the sense of failure loomed over him. It made him nervous, edgy. Never had so much depended on him ... never had he failed, or been close to such failure.

“I was told we were coming on a mission to strengthen the alliance, to learn information. You must have known this was what we’d find.”

“Tis what we feared.”

“Than what is our purpose?”

“To assure the king of Darbenton’s friendship,” Luther stepped over to the small window and stared out. He waited until Justen stepped to his side. They looked out over the night before them, to where the mountains waited under the night sky ... and beyond them, Darbenton.

“I hope you realize, Justen, that if we do not find Dustiny’s favor, we will not be able to find safe passage home.”



Justen dreamed of Darbenton. In the unfamiliar room, in the bed woven for a royal, with Luther asleep on the floor at the foot–Justen fell into a worried sleep. It was dark, oddly dark ... but with light. Lights of reds and oranges. Dark light.

Arrows flew through the air. People screamed.

Screeched–their voices echoed in the night.

The air was ripe with fear.

They were outside the city walls. Fire raged around them and cast dark shadows. Lions prowled through the storm, on edge, but not violent.

And there he looked, up on the castle walls–-no, not Darbenton. No longer Darbenton. Not he stared at the white walls of Fairingham. He looked up and saw the lady in the red cloak. She reached out, as if reaching out to him. The look on her face held pain.

Fear.

Then she tumbled forward, into the darkness.

Justen jerked awake and into the silence. He blinked against the darkness, hear the pounding of his heart.

And watched as the door eased open. A dark, hooded figure stepped in.

Justen sat up, his sword in his hand. Luther was up, and immediately moved to stand between.

The figure held up a hand.

Peace.

The word was said so quietly, it might not have been said. Luther did not move.

The figure lifted his other hand and pushed back the hood.

Before them was the king.

Luther bowed, but kept his head up–ready for battle. “My Lord.”

“You’ll forgive me,” Dustiny spoke, nearly silent, raspy with age–his eyes not on Luther and his sword, but on Justen. “I was unable to speak plainly with you earlier.”

Justen stared at the king. He seemed wearier somehow, older now then before. Nothing in his royal training had prepared him to meet with a king in the darkness of what looked to be a war.

Luther remained silent.

So he said what he had been sent to say, what he had been told to say.

“Fairingham and Darbenton are allies. The alliance has not been forgotten.”

“No,” the king agreed. “It hasn’t. It wouldn’t. Not by your father. Not by me.” The king stepped closer, still with Luther between them. “Young sons of Darbenton, I fear you have come to late.”

Feeling odd sitting in bed while the king spoke over him, Justen pushed from the covers and moved with his sword, to stand by Luther.

“But we have come,” again he relied on the message his advisors had sent. “Whatever Fairingham needs, Darbenton is ready to send.”

“We will need to get a courier back through, someone who can meet up with the guides. Someone they will listen to. As you made it this far, they seem to listen to the men of Darbenton.”

“They don’t listen to you?”

The king looked to the window, to the mountains. Finally, he said, “Darkness fell some two years ago. We have lost contact.”

“Why?”

“If the reports I have received only recently stretch as far back as then, the invaders from Gouten were already moving through the mountain passes. Proclaiming the ancient words of Fairingham, the words of passage, the music, as is our tradition.”

“How–“ Justen imparted. “And why now ... why wait?”

“An exchange upon the throne of Gouton,” Dustiny ran a troubled hand through his white hair, long receded. “I don’t know for sure. Our belief is that the king was thrown out and his brother replaced him. It’s this brother’s sons that came courting in the kingdom.”

“But you allowed this.”

Dustiny’s gaze was dark.

“Not allowed ... not in the way you’re thinking. I left my daughters to be raised by a traitor.”

He wearilly closed his eyes. “I thought myself blessed with the deep alliance of Fairingham nobles from the north. They were my advisors, my friends. When my queen died, the lady took care with my daughters. I have three ... two of which, she took under her wing. But I ... was easily misled.”

“They spent much of their years at her estate in the north country. There, she introduced them, told them whatever lies would suit her. Would suit her purposes.” He shook his head. “They returned with wedding plans and dreams in their eyes. The princes of Gouten accompanied them. I couldn’t refuse them–not and bring the halls of Gouten at my door.”

“Where are they? These advisors?”

“Lady Dennison took over the care of my youngest. Her treatment opened my eyes ... to her purposes, to her heart. I had them locked up, their estate ... for the moment, seized. It will not be long before a battle ensues there.”

“As Gouten is probably already in the quarters.”

“Mmm. The girls know nothing of this–of the last. Francisinna thinks she has guessed. She is probably the sharpest of my daughters. The oldest. The best trained. She would be the one Lady Dennison took into confidence. Mellianna,” Dustiny shook his head, “is led my her sister.”

“What would you have Darbenton do?”

“We must send word to your father. If you got through, then surely you can contact the guides and get back. The passages my be open to you. Your father can get word to Latensham and the lands further to the east.”

“War is coming. Not just to Fairingham.”


HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!





Return to The Ruby Ring