The Blind King (7 page)

“M
y eyes have
never beheld such a sight,” Gannon declared, shaking his head. “Fire rained
down from the heavens, unleashing chaos among our troops.”

The war council remained silent, listening to the
king’s words. Na’zora’s mages had been brought into full action, and they were
quickly decimating Ra’jhou’s ranks with their destructive magic.

“Their fireballs tear through lines of men without
slowing. How do we counter such an attack?” Gannon looked around at his
councilors, who were staring at the conference table, their heads held low. His
eyes landed on his brother. “Efren?”

Efren shook his head and opened his mouth to
speak, but no words came. After a moment, he said, “Perhaps we could create a
diversion? Draw their attention away from our main force?”

“How?” Gannon asked.

Efren scanned his mind but found he had no valid
idea. What could possibly interest mages enough to convince them to leave the
fighting?

General Willem scoffed. “He doesn’t know,” he
said. “He’s no fighter.”

Gannon slammed his hand against the table and
stood. “One of you had better think of something!” he shouted. “These mages are
dangerous, and they must be stopped. Our survival depends on it!”

With a deep breath, Efren said, “I am working on
something with the help of a Ral’nassan sorcerer, but things are not going as
quickly as I would like.” Master Uhnar drank more than his fair share of wine
during his short stay, and he took half the castle’s reserves back home with
him. He also tried to charm all the single women at court, in addition to several
of the married ones. So far, there was little benefit to be seen from his
visit. Efren doubted that the elf was the most trustworthy person to depend on,
but he could do nothing more than sit and wait. With any luck, Uhnar’s contacts
on the Sunswept Isles would prove more helpful than he had.

“Keep me informed,” Gannon said, as if defeated.

Councilman Faril arrived late to the meeting, a
somber expression on his face. With a bow, he presented a letter to the king.
“A message from King Tyrol, Your Majesty.”

Gannon snatched the letter away and sank into his
chair. His eyes scanning the letter, he said, “It seems my sister has been
found guilty of treason. He intends to punish her severely.” Rising to his
feet, he stared momentarily at the wall. Then, with a quick movement he kicked
over the wooden chair, sending it crashing to the floor. “Damn him!” he cried
in frustration. “I will rip his heart out if he harms my sister!” His face was
red with rage. Tearing the letter to shreds he threw it onto the floor. “Saddle
my horse,” he commanded. “There is no time to spare.”

“Your Majesty,” Efren said. “We have no way of
knowing if King Tyrol is telling the truth. You mustn’t rush in too quickly.”

“What gives you the right to tell your sovereign
what he must not do?” Gannon was irritated by his brother’s words. Though he
was grateful to have him tend matters of state, Efren was a novice when it came
to war. “This is a time for action, Brother.”

“I only meant to ask you to be cautious. King Tyrol
knows well that Aubriana has had no contact with us. I fear he might be laying
a trap.”

“I’m surprised by these words,” Gannon replied.
“You do not wish me to rescue our dear sister?” How could Efren possibly insist
he take no action? Aubriana’s life was at stake, and Gannon would do whatever
it took to save her.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Efren said
quickly. He would do anything to shield his sister from harm, assuming she was
truly in danger. There was no way of knowing whether Tyrol’s letter was a trap.
It was best to take caution and confirm this report if at all possible.
Otherwise, Gannon might be risking his own life unnecessarily.

“Do you not fear for her safety?” Gannon
continued. “I will not sit by while her life is in danger. King Tyrol is a
monster, and he means to do her harm. Where is your courage?”

The disappointment in his brother’s tone rang in
Efren’s ears. “I would not trade one sibling for the other,” he said with a
sigh. “She may not be in danger. After all, she is married to Prince Ivor and mother
to Na’zora’s heir. Surely even King Tyrol would not be so ruthless.”

Gannon clapped his brother on the back. “Believe
it, my brother. Our sister is in danger, and I will do what I can to save her.”

“May I investigate the matter before you charge
off into battle?” Gannon was not one to take caution, and it was common
knowledge he would charge into battle on a moment’s notice. Though he was a
brave fighter, strategy and planning were not his strengths.

“Do as you like,” the king said. “By the time your
investigation is concluded, I will already have Aubriana back here safely.” He
strode from the room, leaving Efren in silence.

Efren rose and exited the council chamber. Slowly,
he made his way down the corridor and stepped outside the stuffy castle. The air
outside was cool against his skin, but the sun’s heat warmed his face. He took
a seat on the castle steps and sighed.

“Are you all right, my lord?” a passing servant
asked.

Efren did not speak. Instead, he waved his hand,
dismissing the servant. Moments later, the distinctive sound of horses rode
past, their thundering hooves suggesting a large troop was already riding out
in defense of Aubriana. Though he could not be certain she was not in danger,
he could not dismiss the feeling that Tyrol was up to something.

The sound of trumpets accompanied the king’s
troops as he set off for battle. Efren rose to his feet, holding up a hand in
farewell to his brother. The gesture went unnoticed by Gannon, who shouted
orders to his men before riding off into the distance. Efren waited until all
of the horses had passed, their footfalls fading away into silence.

Returning inside the castle, his heart grew
heavier with each step. How many mages would his brother encounter this time?
If he truly believed Aubriana was in danger, nothing would stop Gannon. He
would charge into the mages as if they were simple soldiers. It could cost him
everything. Efren struggled to keep his head high. His mind was in turmoil, his
heart heavy. Whatever Tyrol was planning, Efren could only hope his brother
would be able to fight his way through it.

H
undreds of displaced citizens took up
residence on the castle grounds during the king’s absence. Makeshift camps were
set up behind its stone walls, where the people hoped to find safety. Each day
Ryshel walked the grounds, helping in any way she could. She fed livestock,
brushed horses, and assisted in the castle kitchens. Her children helped as
well, forgetting their stations as nobles, and placing themselves among the
commoners. They learned some basic cooking and particularly enjoyed kneading
bread dough. Ryshel took pride in their willingness to help. Her children would
grow into fine citizens who would treat those beneath them with dignity and respect.

One evening, after a large group of displaced
Ra’jhouans had arrived, Ryshel made a request of her husband. “I would like to
take over castle management duties,” she declared. “With the councilmen busy
with the war, someone needs to see that the castle is being run efficiently.
You are far too busy coordinating the supply lines and dispatching more troops
to handle this new wave of citizens.”

Efren was pleased that his wife would offer to
share in the work of running a kingdom. There was already more than he could
handle, and each night he went to bed exhausted. “I would be pleased to have
your help in this matter,” he replied. He trusted her more than any of the
councilors and knew she had the kingdom’s best interests at heart.

Thereafter, all affairs of household went to Ryshel
for approval. Most Ra’jhouan noblewomen would not have considered taking on
such an enormous task. They were expected to please their husbands and bear
children, not manage an entire castle. It was expected that they would defer to
their husbands in all manners concerning the home and money. Educating women in
such matters was not a priority in Ra’jhou. If a woman could sing, dance, and
embroider, she was considered well educated.

Ryshel enjoyed being in charge of the castle’s affairs.
There were hundreds of citizens to care for, and they needed new methods of
keeping the area clean and safe. She saw to it that all farm animals were kept
in pens, preventing them from soiling the grounds and spreading sickness. Also,
she put dozens of men to work improving the castle’s waste management systems.
New canals were being dug to remove waste and prevent disease. So far, the
citizens were healthy and thriving. Overpopulation was still a possibility, and
Ryshel was constantly deciding where to put the newcomers. It was a demanding
position, but one she enjoyed.

With Ryshel in charge, the castle grounds
flourished despite the large number of people now housed within its walls. One
afternoon, as she was inspecting the area, a slow procession of mounted
soldiers came into view. They approached quietly, the king’s banner flying on
the wind above them. Ryshel’s heart sank as her eyes took in the sight of King
Gannon. His lifeless form lay upon a cart, drawn by his own horse. She stood
frozen, barely able to breathe.

“I bring sad news, my lady,” General Willem said.
“Our beloved king has been slain in battle.” He presented the king’s ring to
the woman who would now serve as queen.

Clasping a hand to her mouth, Ryshel’s eyes filled
with tears. “We must inform Efren,” she managed to say. Turning quickly, she
lifted her skirt a few inches to avoid tripping and ran into the castle.

Efren was seated in the council chambers,
listening to his advisors argue over the location of a group of soldiers. The
topic was unimportant, but each had his own opinion and was determined to share
it.

The doors swung open, and Ryshel stepped inside.
“My lords, I must inform you that King Gannon has been killed.”

Silence filled the room, her words hanging heavily
in the air. Efren swallowed hard upon hearing the news. His heart ached for the
brother he had lost, but there would be no time for him to mourn. Whether he
wished the position or not, he was now King of Ra’jhou. There was no other who
had a claim to the throne, and his own sons were far too young for him to
consider passing the title to one of them.

Ryshel moved silently to her husband’s side.
Placing Gannon’s ring upon his right forefinger, she kissed his cheek and said,
“Long live the king.”

“Long live the king,” one councilman said,
standing.

The others followed suit, echoing, “Long live the
king!” Each man made his way to Efren to kiss the ring and declare his loyalty.
An uneasy silence followed as Efren found himself at a loss for words. He had
loved his brother dearly, and his heart was heavy from the loss.

Standing, he took Ryshel’s hand and pressed it to
his chest. “We must get word to Aubriana,” he said, thinking of his only
remaining sibling.

“I’ve heard nothing from her for weeks,” Ryshel
replied. “It may not be possible to get a message through.”

Efren nodded, determination filling his eyes.
“Then we shall have to put an end to this war.” Sinking into his chair, he
whispered, “He and I disagreed before he left. I will never have the chance to
apologize.”

Ryshel kissed his cheek and gently rubbed the back
of his hand. “Your brother loved you, and I know he held no malice against you.
Brothers disagree at times. I’m sure he would forgive you without a second
thought.”

Efren nodded, knowing she was probably right. The
best thing he could do for Gannon was to keep Ra’jhou in one piece. To his
advisors, he said, “I am not the man my brother was, and I cannot lead troops
into battle. Nevertheless, I will strive each day to be a good king and to
safeguard this land from its enemies.”

In the back of his mind, Efren still regretted not
being more supportive of his brother’s last campaign. Was Aubriana safe? There
had been no further word from King Tyrol on the subject. Perhaps Gannon’s death
was the result of the trap Efren feared had been set. There was no way to know
for certain unless word arrived from Aubriana herself. Still, any letter from
her could be forged, or she could be forced to say things that were untrue. Efren’s
only chance of giving peace to his brother was to bring this war to an end and
negotiate the return of Aubriana. He could only hope it wasn’t too late to save
her.

E
fren was
crowned the following morning, with Ryshel standing at his side. There was no
crowd, and the general sentiment was somber. The councilors whispered to each
other their doubts about Efren’s abilities. Though he had been serving in a
position of power for years, Gannon had always had the final word. Now they
would have no choice but to listen to a man with no battle experience in this
time of war.

Ryshel’s role as queen was ceremonial only. A
queen had no say in matters concerning the governing of the kingdom. She was
expected only to supply Ra’jhou with an heir, which Ryshel had already done. With
her duties managing the castle grounds, she held more power than any woman in
Ra’jhou. She planned to continue her duties and to act as an advisor to her
husband, if only behind closed doors.

After the coronation, she suggested, “My father
would make a fine First Advisor for you, my lord. He has not been among the
naysayers at court, and I have written him many times over the years what a
wonderful husband you are to me.”

Efren considered the idea. “Does he have much
battle experience? I need someone who is wise, but also someone who will trust
me. I have never been in a battle myself, but I have heard hundreds of stories
involving war. I am not as uneducated as those at court believe.”

“I know that to be true,” she declared. “My father
is a kind man, and he is fair and honest. He will serve you well, or you have
my permission to dismiss him.”

A grin spread over Efren’s face. “You would give
your king permission?”

With a laugh, she replied, “Indeed I would. Shall
I send for him?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It would be helpful if he
could come right away.”

They proceeded into the council chambers, where his
advisors were awaiting him. Ryshel entered at her husband’s side, escorting him
to his seat at the head of the table.

As she turned to leave, Efren said, “I would have
you stay.”

Shock came over the faces of the assembled men.
“Your Majesty, this is outrageous!” one of them declared. “A woman? On the
council?”

Efren held up a hand to silence them. “She is not
a member of the council, but I would have her remain at my side. I value her
opinion as I do yours.” He had no wish to shock his councilors so soon by
officially making Ryshel part of the council. If they managed to save the
kingdom from destruction, however, Efren had a few such changes in mind.

The councilman was obviously insulted, but he
managed to hold his tongue. Ryshel looked upon the men’s faces and smiled
before taking a seat next to her husband.

“What news of the war?” Efren asked.

“Your Majesty,” General Willem began, “your
brother was slain by mages. He had not encountered them before, and we were not
prepared to face them. They threw fire at us, frightening our horses. Once we
were dismounted and our formation in disarray, the Na’zoran cavalry charged us.
King Gannon fell in the first wave, despite his valiant efforts.”

A silence came over the council chambers out of
respect for the fallen king. Finally, Efren asked, “By whose hand did he fall?”

Willem shifted uneasily in his seat. “The king’s
horse was struck by magefire. When he was dismounted, he was trampled. It is
not the glorious death he deserved.”

“Agreed,” a dark-haired council member said. “We
should record that he died in hand-to-hand combat, surrounded by enemies. His
valor must be clearly documented.”

Efren considered it for a moment. “My brother
fought bravely through many battles. The manner of his life matters more than
the manner of his death. We shall record it honestly—all of it.”

There was no argument from the assembled men. A
few of them nodded, accepting Efren’s decision. Gannon had indeed been a brave
leader.

Resuming the conversation, Efren said, “We must
find a way to combat their mages. Undoubtedly, there is a way to defeat them.”

“You have said yourself that we do not have the
time or resources to train our own mages,” Councilman Faril replied. “I see no
way of fighting them other than what we’re already doing.”

“That strategy seems to be inadequate,” Efren
replied. “Were there archers among Gannon’s regiment?”

“There were,” General Willem replied.
“Unfortunately, they were not ordered to fire until the mages were almost upon
us. Had they loosed their arrows sooner, we may have rid ourselves of a few. We
had no idea whether mages were among them until they opened fire. They were
dressed no differently than the other soldiers.”

“It would be unwise of them to stand out,” the
king stated. “They would be an easy target if they wore brightly colored
robes.”

“Then what do you suggest?” a bearded councilman
asked.

“We will have to infiltrate the Na’zoran army. We
need someone on the inside to carry out a secret plan.”

The councilmen looked at each other, each hoping
he would not be chosen for the task. The king’s word was law, and none of them
would be able to refuse the appointment should he be chosen.

“Your Majesty,” General Willem said. “Let me find
someone who is young and brave. Don’t send one of these old fools.”

Ryshel pressed her hand to her lips to stop
herself from laughing.

“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” Efren replied.
“We must send a brave soldier who would also pass as a noble. I have an idea
that will require someone with quick wit, not someone with a quick sword. He
must be tall as well. With luck, he will encounter no resistance.”

General Willem wore a puzzled expression. Clearly,
he did not understand what the king had planned. Whatever it was, he hoped it
would work. “I will do as you request,” he said.

“Once you’ve chosen someone, bring him here. The
three of us will go over the details together.” He had no intention of telling
the other council members about his plan. They would not approve, and they
probably wouldn’t understand it. They preferred overt action to secrecy, but
this was a delicate matter.