The High King's Tomb by Kristen Britain
The general opened the lid of the coffer and nestled inside on velvet were three medals of gold, each with a cobalt ribbon.
“I only wish Lord Amberhill were here to receive his medal,” Lord Coutre said, “for he proved himself valiant in pursuit of my daughter’s abductors.”
Lord Coutre said more words that were lost to Karigan who was so surprised by the honor. Her cheeks warmed as he placed the medal around her neck. It seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.
“You both are always welcome to Coutre Province and in my house,” Lord Coutre said. “You are also now entitled to lands within the province’s borders.”
Karigan was stunned, and when she glanced at Fergal, she saw his eyes had grown large. The knacker’s son was now a landowner and had a place to settle after his service to the Green Riders ended. It was likely more than he ever dreamed possible.
Lord Coutre and his general returned to the sidelines. Estora hugged her father soundly.
Karigan thought this was the end of it all, but Captain Mapstone said to her, “Kneel before your king, Rider G’ladheon.”
Fergal flashed her a smile and backed away to leave her there alone before the king. He evidently knew what was up, the brat!
Karigan knelt, wondering what the king had in mind.
“Long ago our royal ancestors had a way of honoring the heroic individuals who served them,” he said. “This mode of honor fell out of favor at the time of the Clan Wars, for it had been used more to curry favor and loyalty and reward not valor but one’s favorites in court. It now seems wise to restore this honor in its original spirit.
“A thousand years ago, the honor was created by King Jonaeus in the depths of the Long War for those especially heroic individuals who advanced Sacoridia’s cause against the Arcosian Empire. One of the first to receive it was Liliethe Ambrioth, the founder of the Green Riders.
“Because Rider G’ladheon has displayed uncommon courage, not just once, but several times, in the face of dangers unimaginable, I now name her a knight of the realm, in the Order of the Firebrand. Like Liliethe Ambrioth and others who followed, Karigan G’ladheon rides in the light, bears the light, and knows the favor of the gods.”
Knight of the realm? Karigan felt numb all over as the king placed another heavy medal around her neck, this one displaying the crescent moon and the firebrand, and the word “valor.” He took her hands into his, the heat of his touch jolting up her arms, and he raised her to her feet. She glanced into his eyes, and saw how earnestly he gazed back at her as if there was so much more he wanted to say, but could not. She bit her bottom lip and looked away, and he turned her to face the assembled.
“Receive, my fellow Sacoridians,” the king’s voice boomed, “Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon, knight of the realm.”
The applause thundered right through Karigan and the rest was a blur until sometime during the reception that followed. Many whom she knew and did not know came to her and congratulated her on the honors she had received, while Captain Mapstone stood beside her, a proud smile on her face. Karigan was entirely too bewildered.
Until Fergal came up to her and said, “I think old Cetchum knew something.”
Mention of Rivertown’s crusty ferry master surprised Karigan. “What do you mean?”
“He called you ‘sir,’ right? Aren’t we supposed to call you Sir Karigan now?”
Karigan had no words, and Fergal wandered off laughing at his own cleverness.
“He’s right,” Captain Mapstone said.
“What?”
“The proper address for a knight of the realm is to call you ‘sir.’ In your case, Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon.”
Karigan gave the captain a sideways glance, but saw no evidence she was joking.
“Could we…could we keep it just Rider?” Karigan asked.
“That’s up to the king,” Captain Mapstone replied, “but you should know he is quite serious about these things.” She smiled and excused herself to speak with Castellan Sperren, leaving Karigan to stew amid the milling crowd. She was rather at a loss.
“Sir Karigan?” Colin Dovekey said, as he approached her.
Karigan winced at the unaccustomed title and bit her lip. “Yes?” she said.
“If I may have a moment? The king wished for me to speak to you.”
She followed Colin out of the throne room and away from the deafening chatter and into a more quiet corridor. As she did so, a quick glance revealed the king standing beside Estora, engrossed in conversation with Lord Coutre and others. Though he’d presented her with the Order of the Firebrand, he’d chosen not to speak private words with her afterward. It made her feel hollow; diminished the honor.
“The king wished for me to give you these papers,” Colin said in a quiet voice. “They came from Lord Mirwell among the messages Rider Duff delivered to the king.”
“What are they?” Karigan asked, receiving the papers.
“An indictment against your father for acts of piracy against this realm, and others.”
“What?”
“There is evidence,” Colin said, “that your father served on a ship called the Gold Hunter in his youth. In the years our country skirmished with the Under Kingdoms, the ship served as a privateer, capturing many a ship from the enemy, as well as any goods it carried. After peace came between Sacoridia and the Under Kingdoms, the Gold Hunter continued its activities for some years. In other words, captain and crew participated in acts of piracy.”
“My father was a pirate?” What else hadn’t he told her? She began to wonder if he’d really acquired his wealth as a merchant, or by piracy.
“Your father would have been no more than of age to be a cabin boy at the time, though that doesn’t entirely absolve him of responsibility. However, because of his contribution to commerce in Sacoridia, his personal contributions in outfitting the Green Riders, and the subsequent savings to the treasury, the king has decided to overlook your father’s connection to the Gold Hunter, and give you this evidence to do with as you wish.”
Karigan glanced at the papers. An old stained sheaf looked to be a ship’s crew roster, and there was her father’s name. She grabbed the nearest lamp and burned them right there in the corridor.
“Although one cannot say for sure Lord Mirwell’s motive in bringing this evidence forward at this time,” Colin said, “it appears he holds some malice toward your clan. Rider Spencer herself dug up the information under old Lord Mirwell’s command a couple years ago, and assures us this is the extent of it, and you know she is thorough. However, one cannot say for sure if Lord Mirwell won’t come forward more publicly, though without evidence he won’t have much of a case, but it may embarrass your clan. In light of this, the king asked me to reassure you that Clan G’ladheon has his favor and protection.”
Colin seemed about ready to end the incredible conversation, but he paused and smiled. “One more thing, Sir Karigan. You are now entitled not only to lands in Coutre Province, but anywhere in Sacoridia you like. The king emphasized how lovely Hillander Province is in any season.”
With that, Colin excused himself and returned to the reception. Karigan stood there in the corridor, the medals dragging on her neck. She put her hand to her temple, unable to process all she’d experienced and been told this day.
She’d acquired honors and lands. She was a knight of the realm. Her father had been a pirate? She sighed. She really needed to sit down and have a lengthy chat with him, about his trying to marry her off and the various digressions of his past. The Golden Rudder. The Gold Hunter. He was really into gold. And she groaned.
But everything could wait. She listened for a moment to the clamor coming from the reception. She ought to return, but she did not. No, it was sunny out, and not too cold, and Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon was of a mind that it was a perfect time to saddle her horse and go for a ride. A long ride.
Pleased by her plan, she set off with long, swift strides, never knowing that just moments later, her king ste
Zachary had observed Karigan depart the festivities with Colin, but to his dismay, she did not return to the throne room when his counselor did. He wished ardently to talk with her—alone—before the event was over and so he tried to make his way through the throne room to the corridor, but it was no easy task to break away from all those who clamored for his attention.
When he at last reached the corridor, she was already gone. Gone like a spirit of the wind he would never be able to grasp.
He stood there in the empty corridor, feeling bereft, feeling she was beyond his reach because of more than the gulf created by his royal status and her common blood. He’d sensed a difference about her since the tombs, a mystery. It was subtle, something in her eyes, an aspect of midnight, as though she’d been touched by something not of this world.
He feared for her; feared for himself that she was slipping away, that he’d lose her entirely. It only strengthened his desire to fold her into his arms, to bring her closer, to protect her. He refused…he refused to let her go, to be taken by…by what?
He stood there, rubbed his upper lip in consternation. Then closed his eyes and bowed his head, the babble in the throne room fading away. She could be taken by anything. Her job, her duty, it was dangerous. Any message errand she went out on could be her last. He could command that she go on only the simplest of errands, the least dangerous ones, but even his royal status could not override her calling.
And it would not be enough to safeguard her. What he sensed about her, what aroused his fear, went beyond her work as a messenger, beyond the here and now. He could not place what it was that made him fearful, could not name it, but there was something, and his only desire was to protect her from it, whatever it was.
Actually, there was more he desired. Their brief touch at the dais had not been enough, only begged for more, only intensified his need. But she was gone…
He knew very well his obligation to the realm and Lady Estora, he knew he should return to the throne room, but the impulse to search for Karigan was powerful, like a fever. He took a step forward, but then Laren was there at his side, placing her hand on his arm.
“Your Majesty,” she said, “many of your subjects still wish to speak with you, and there is Lady Estora wondering where you’ve gone.”
He struggled inside himself, obligation warring against desire. But the stakes for the realm, he knew, were too great for him to follow his heart.
But still he hesitated. He took a deep breath, and another. He promised himself that even while fulfilling his responsibilities, he would do whatever was in his power to protect Karigan. No matter what. With this oath in place, he buried to the deepest regions within all that he wished for himself. He was the high king of Sacoridia and his personal happiness was irrelevant.
“Of course,” he replied, and he allowed Laren to lead him back into the throne room, but he could not help glancing over his shoulder into the empty corridor.
HUMILITY AND HONOR
“Knighted?” Alton asked.
Garth nodded solemnly. “It was a big secret when I left, but the captain thought you’d want to know so she told me. I swore an actual oath not to tell anyone till I reached you.”
They both stared at Dale when she started shaking with laughter. The three Riders sat in Tower of the Heavens before the hearth with a blazing fire keeping them warm, despite the gaping hole above through which cold air and snow whorled down to the chamber. Garth had been astonished by the mess he found, and even more so to find his friends had not been squashed by falling rocks or columns.
It was questionable as to how repairs were going to be made, as emphasis was placed on the breach yet again, where the wall needed to be rebuilt. Alton was never so glad as he was when he heard the book of Theanduris Silverwood had been recovered and hoped it would soon be translated so he could work on restoring the whole wall once and for all. And that would be the end to threats from Blackveil.
“What’s so funny?” Garth demanded of Dale.
“Sir Karigan?”
“Rider Sir Karigan,” Garth said.
Dale just laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Our little Karigan.”
“A great honor,” said a new voice. Merdigen emerged from beneath one of the arches and joined them at the hearth where he stretched his hands before the fire as if he could take warmth from it. “Your own First Rider was one such.”
That information subdued Dale only somewhat.
“From the sound of it,” Merdigen continued, “your friend has achieved a great deal at great personal risk. It only makes sense the king should so honor her.”
“I know,” Dale said. “It just…it just sounds funny.” Finally she quieted and composed herself, only to snort and break out laughing again. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, and laughing still, she rose and left them, walking through the wall to the outside world.
Garth shrugged and Alton suspected that once Tegan and Dale were back in the same territory, Karigan would find no peace from them.
“I suppose,” Garth said, “this would be a good time for you to compose Karigan a letter of congratulations?”
The suggestion took Alton by surprise and his hand went automatically to his breast where her letter to him lay tucked in an inner pocket, the seal unbroken.
“I–I suppose,” he said.
“Good,” said Garth. “I’ll take any correspondence you have when I leave in the morning.”
That evening, Alton sat alone in the tower at the table, with paper, pen, and ink before him. He’d made a list of supplies needed, and for the king he explained the damage the wall had taken and the odd find of indigo yarn in the breach, and of strange horses left wandering in the encampment.
He additionally requested more Riders to investigate what happened to Tower of the Earth and its guardian, Haurris. The rest of the mages had returned to their towers, vowing to remain awake and in contact with one another, as well as with Alton, so they could continue in their work of soothing the wall guardians and strengthening their song. Alton wanted a Rider in every tower to make sure communication kept flowing.
In the meantime, he’d also seek members of his own clan who might have an ability to communicate with the guardians. Surely he couldn’t be the only one, and if Pendric was any indication, he was not.
That correspondence was easy to deal with. When he finally had no more business, he pulled Karigan’s letter out of his pocket. The envelope was crumpled and the seal an indistinguishable blob from his body heat. With a deep breath, he opened it.
The letter was not long, which was like Karigan, he thought. She was not one to waste time over words and would get straight to the point. He steeled himself for those words, and when he finished reading, he just sat there staring at the wall.
I’m sorry, she had written. I don’t know what I did wrong to make you angry at me, but I’m sorry.
All this time Alton had avoided reading the letter first because of his own anger toward Karigan, then because of the anger he feared she meant to level at him. Instead, the words he read were, I’m sorry.
There were other words, promises to do better if he’d only tell her what was wrong. She valued their friendship too much to lose him. He gave her strength, she said.
Alton shook his head in disbelief. Once again he misjudged her and he couldn’t blame it on a fever or poisons lingering in his veins. He could not blame it on the machinations of Mornhavon the Black. No, he could only blame himself.
Even when overcome by the fevers, how could he ever doubt her? How could he have believed her capable of treasonous behavior? And now she’d been honored by the king for just the opposite…
I am so stupid, he thought. He wondered if it was too late to repair the damage he wrought.
“You know, she seems to be quite extraordinary.”
Merdigen took Alton so off guard he nearly fell out of his chair.
“What are you doing??
“Why, reading over your shoulder. Your friend Karigan, or should I say Sir Karigan, has not only shown great service to king and country, but has enough humility and honor to apologize when she makes a mistake.”
“She isn’t the one who made the mistake,” Alton said, smoothing the letter against the tabletop. “I’m the one who should do the apologizing.”
“Humility and honor,” Merdigen said, “are hallmarks of the best leaders. It’s also useful,” he mused, “if you have a direct connection to the gods.” He wandered off shaking his head and muttering about black horses and gods, then vanished beneath the west arch.
Humility and honor. Alton strove to help his country and he’d felt a failure. Maybe things were turning around. Maybe the book Karigan helped recover would allow him to…
He shook his head. He was not the center of the world. He would do his best to fix the D’Yer Wall and he would do what he could to repair the breach he’d caused between himself and Karigan, and that was a beginning.
He picked up his pen and put a clean sheet of paper before him. He would begin by opening his heart.
Dear Karigan, he wrote. I seek your forgiveness…
SLEEPERS
Grandmother paused to catch her breath and gazed upon the twisted dark limbs grasping out of the billowing mist of Blackveil Forest. Unpleasant as the place was, it was, for her, like a homecoming, for here were the roots of the empire, the lands her ancestors conquered when they came from Arcosia. Here was the base from which the empire would again arise. Old powers would awaken and the enemies of the empire would quail in fear.
She had found the old road that led toward the heart of Blackveil. Overgrown it was, with broken statues along its edges, but as clear a path as any. It would lead her true, for other paths were deceptive, might lure them into traps set by predators. The few retainers she brought along with her remained close and wide-eyed, fearful of the creatures that moved through foliage and underbrush. They had nothing to fear so long as she maintained a shield of protection around them. Lala knew she was safe. She sat on a stone playing string games.