Chapter 7
A Royal Celebration
Kristian looked in the mirror and frowned. He had finally purchased garments from a tailor that Allisia had recommended, and he hoped the new clothes would impress her. The over-pleasing tailor assured him these clothes were designed after the most popular fashion in Duellr. The tight-fitting pants and billowy sleeves seemed a bit too feminine to the Erandian, but he wanted very much to win the princess over.
“Well, if this is what all the nobles of Duellr are wearing, then I will wear it, too,” he finally told his reflection in the mirror. He had chosen black pants and a black leather vest to offset the less manly appearance of the outfit, though.
Now that Kristian was back in his room and had tried on the clothes, the only thing he saw as he looked in the mirror was a fool. He still felt out of place and uncomfortable, even with the personal touches he had added.
“She’ll see right through me. She won’t like the clothes, and she’ll hate me even more for trying to be someone I’m not.” Kristian cursed his bad luck. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am an idiot.” He knew how the cavaliers felt about him. Their feelings toward him would never change. Even if he continued to mind his manners, as Allisia had put it, Kristian was not sure the cavaliers would ever respect him the way they respected Alek or Mikhal.
His last conversation with Allisia immediately came to mind. Kristian was walking through the gardens late in the morning, hoping to catch her there again. He hoped to talk to her one more time before the celebration. She was there, sitting at the fountain and looking at the flowers floating in the water. Kristian felt a moment of hesitation, afraid to interrupt her. He was beginning to realize how different Allisia was, that she was more than just a beautiful woman.
She knew she was being watched and turned to smile at him.
“I hoped I would see you again before it was too late,” she told him.
Kristian felt bold and said, “You are very beautiful, and I hoped to see you, too.” He had tried to say it both as a compliment, after all she was stunning, and to put her at ease. His smile quickly faded as Allisia stood and frowned at him.
“I am glad that you find me attractive, but I hope that isn’t the only reason you are agreeing to this,” she warned him.
Kristian quickly shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant.”
Allisia raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
“I mean there is much more to you than just looks,” Kristian added. Allisia smiled, enjoying her game at his expense.
She laughed and then said, “It’s not about how I look that’s important. My face doesn’t reveal my true character. My mettle is demonstrated in my resolve and by my actions. I know I can be stubborn, but I think I’m also intelligent, reasonable, and forgiving … and my challenge is to get you see that.”
“There must be something to that,” Kristian replied, “because you are the only one that has ever wanted to be my friend.”
“Maybe I’m looking beyond the handsome features at the true mettle within,” she suggested.
He smiled, as he lay there, remembering what she had told him. Kristian truly wanted Allisia to be his friend; it was the only thing that mattered. He figured in his head, however, that by the way he was pushing her, she was just as likely to hate him by the time the party was over.
Kristian fell back on the bed and moaned, not knowing what to do about his appearance. “Hello, Your Highness, I’m Prince Idiot.” He said mockingly as he rolled over and tried to hide under the pillow. Then he remembered the last thing she had told him; perhaps things were starting to get better. Anything seemed possible when he was around Allisia.
Frustrated with his own indecisiveness, he turned onto his side and looked aimlessly at the wall. The cavalry sword he had secretly gotten when he was a boy hung over the back of a chair next to a newer, jeweled saber. It was an old blade, having lost its high polished shine many years ago. Kristian had practiced with it every day as a youth. He had always taken pride in owning it. Kristian’s parents never found out about the sword; he had hidden it from them since the beginning. He always kept it at the bottom of a chest and pulled the sword out only when he wanted to get away from everyone. Kristian smiled as he remembered those quiet moments practicing in the garden. It was one of his few fond memories as a boy.
He did not know why he had brought it along; maybe it was a small act of defiance against his father. No, that was not it, Kristian realized. The older sword reminded him of what he wanted to be. The jeweled sword his parents had given him would easily break during a battle, but the cavalry sword would hold up well during a duel. It was a plain-looking weapon, but its metal was strong. Kristian thought about Allisia’s words one more time, agreeing with her. There was more to him then what he had so far shown those that knew him.
Making one last decision about his appearance, Kristian chose the older sword and headed for the door, leaving the more ornate saber behind.
Mikhal paced outside the throne room along with the other Erandian officers as they waited for their prince. They hated official ceremonies. They constantly felt the necessity to check their uniforms for faults. Although no one here would know if something was amiss, the fact that they would be scrutinized by Duellrian military officers, and perhaps even by some beautiful, young ladies, made them all feel uneasy. Romlin slapped Hanson on the back to let him know he was finished scanning him for wrinkles and dirt.
“If you just ruined my coat, I will take you back outside, Romlin,” Hanson threatened. Offended, Romlin carefully backed away to let the big southerner cool off. Mikhal smiled as he watched the two make fun of each other. “You did do a good job on my boots, though.”
Alek looked down the hallway again cursing under his breath. “Where the hell is he?” he demanded. His junior officers shrugged in ignorance. No one had seen the prince the entire day. All of them had decided it would be best to wait for their prince to arrive and lead them into the party. Prince Kristian was almost out of time. Waiting nervously, Mikhal looked down at his feet again to make sure there were no scuffs on his boots and then straightened out his gray dress coat.
It was decorated with gold-overlaid buttons down the center; Mikhal felt the cavalier uniform signified the simple and hard life they led while also showing everyone else they were skilled soldiers. He took great pride in caring for all of his equipment. Mikhal had spent the greater part of the morning polishing his saber, ensuring there were no fingerprints on the scabbard or blade. Fingerprints always seemed to lead to tarnishing on the polished metal and Mikhal could not stand a tarnished blade. Mikhal’s sword was awarded to him by the commander of the cavaliers when he was selected to join the unit. All officers were awarded a saber upon their selection, so it was not that special, but to Mikhal, it represented his dreams coming true.
Mikhal was also awarded a red sash to tie onto his scabbard after proving himself a hero in a small battle on the border between Erand and Belarn. The sash was normally awarded only to senior officers who had shown a high level of dedication or bravery, and Mikhal took great pride in wearing it. He only wore it when attending special events like tonight and absently toyed with the material as he thought about the dance and, hopefully, some very pretty Duellrian ladies.
Mikhal spent most of his time as a young boy training for the opportunity to become a cavalier. He worked every night at his small town’s granary to earn extra money. Mikhal saved everything he earned so that he could one day buy a horse. Once he found one he thought was perfect for him, Mikhal started every morning by riding and then grooming his new friend, Champion. Even while working, Mikhal daydreamed about riding down a villain while mounted on his new charger. Or he would dream of dueling with the leader of an opposing army for the Honor of the Cavaliers. Mikhal was often scolded for not paying attention to his chores. It rarely helped to wake him from his dreams. Someday, Mikhal knew he would be a cavalier and nothing else mattered.
Mikhal had no official military t
raining when he finally joined the Erandian army. Starting out as a foot soldier, he worked hard to learn everything his sergeants taught him. He spent extra hours dueling with his instructors and constantly asked questions about military tactics, especially cavalry tactics. After serving only a year as an infantryman, Mikhal’s commander had seen enough to know that he was an exceptional soldier and leader. Mikhal was commissioned as an officer in the service of the king of Erand after another year of studying with men his own age but from much higher classes of society. Mikhal’s first assignment was back in the infantry, but he was quickly transferred to the cavalry. Mikhal finally realized his dream after two more years of hard work and training. He was screened for admission and welcomed into the cavaliers by a board of unit commanders.
The rest was a blur. Mikhal could not remember a single week he and his men were not patrolling the borders of Erand for at least the last eight months. Nothing else exciting happened after that small battle, yet he refused to let his men’s training slacken. Mikhal’s platoon trained hard six days a week, and the young officer was proud of them. He knew that if they ever had to fight again, no one would be able to stand against them.
Mikhal was startled out of his reflections by the approaching sounds of hurrying steps coming down the passage. Kristian entered the room with a rush of wind behind him that sent drapes flying.
Kristian simply nodded, cutting short their greetings, and said, “Okay, is everyone ready?” After the four officers nodded back to him, the prince straightened out his new clothes one last time, took a deep breath, and opened the doors to the sounds of courtiers and music.
Alek noticed that the throne room was specially decorated for the evening’s celebration. Ropes of ivy intermingled with roses were wrapped loosely around the pillars that lined the walls. Bouquets of wildflowers that grew in the mountains surrounding Argathos were amazingly arranged around the many added candelabras. The candlelight was reflected off the glass dome roof and made the commander feel like he was walking toward the Gates of Heaven. Even the rugs that had been present the day before were removed, revealing a highly polished marble floor. The floor itself was a beautiful work of art. Various shades of blue marble had been placed in the center of the floor and were arranged to reflect the beauty of the Tarin Ocean. The blue colors swirled and faded to light green, perhaps representing the eastern coastline that was the foundation of Duellrian success. In the center, a golden sea serpent’s head emerged between foaming waves.
Most amazing to them was the large window on the far wall. The stained blue glass spanned the entire side of the ballroom and reached up to the tall ceiling. The cavaliers stared in amazement at the palace’s intricate details and beauty.
With Kristian leading the group, the five men walked past hundreds of courtiers toward the king of Duellr and his two children. Mikhal felt like everyone’s eyes were on him instead of the prince. He tried to look professional but felt more like a stiff corpse that had just walked out of its crypt. Hoping that he was not making a complete fool of himself, he slowed his pace a little to calm himself. None of the officers had ever seen this many people gathered for a celebration before.
Hanson smiled as he looked over to his left and saw a large table full of food and wine. “At least this evening won’t be a total loss,” the southerner whispered.
The five soon arrived at the place where the king and his family were waiting. The king was dressed in blue and white satins with a wide green sash wrapped around his large middle. He smiled at the men as they bowed deeply in a gesture of respect. His son, Justan, looked too much like his father. The heir of Duellr was only a few years older than Mikhal, but instead of being fit, he looked like he had wasted most of his time eating and drinking. The king’s son also smiled as he nodded toward the Erandians. These large men were soon forgotten by the Erandians as they looked at the princess. Allisia was wearing a silk gown that matched the color of her light green eyes. Her auburn hair was bound in several places by small white roses attached to ribbons that hung from her hair and gently rested on her bare shoulders. She tried to hide her embarrassment by playing with the bouquet of flowers she held in her hands. She pretended not to notice the stares of the men.
Kristian was stunned by her beauty, and he was sure that his lower jaw was about to hit the marble floor when he suddenly realized that none of the noblemen were wearing a style of clothes that even closely matched his own. His amazement at Allisia’s beauty turned to embarrassment, and he lowered his eyes in shame. He felt like such a fool.
Allisia saw the prince’s reaction and mistook it for disappointment in the way she looked. She, too, lowered her eyes fearing she and Kristian would never become close.
They were pulled from their sulking by the king who proposed a toast in honor of the two kingdoms that opposed Belarn. He also asked God to bless Prince Kristian of Landron and Allisia to ensure their marriage would be filled with love and plenty of children. The Erandians were surprised to also hear the king give thanks to the cavaliers for their dedication in ensuring Kristian reached Duellr safely.
After drinking to the toast, Mikhal and the other two lieutenants slipped out of the king’s circle and headed for the banquet table. Hanson almost knocked his friends over as he reached the food first, grabbing a platter in each hand. Romlin started to berate the bigger man for his unrefined manners, but something drew Mikhal’s attention toward the gathered crowd. He had the eerie feeling that someone was staring at him, and he wanted to make sure there was no danger. Amid the dozen circles of men and women talking and laughing, he spotted a beautiful woman with blonde hair looking right at him. He could not tell how long she had been standing there, but it excited him, and he suddenly felt the urge to go to her. Before the young officer could move, the tall and slender woman smiled at him and gathered her red cloak tightly about her. She left the hall through a side door. Mikhal tried to follow, but he lost sight of her in the crowd. The woman was even more beautiful than Princess Allisia, and the cavalryman wished he had moved quicker to catch her before she left. He frowned in disappointment when he realized he probably would not see her again. Mikhal had never been in love before, and he had always had trouble relating to Erandian women. Even when he was a boy, he had been too shy to talk to girls. Now that he was twenty-two years old, he was still unable to feel comfortable around them. Mikhal was torn between two different classes of Erandian society … the one he was brought up in and the one he was forced into by his rank in the military. It was hard enough to understand how he was supposed to act around the other officers; it was impossible for him to figure out how to talk to women. Instead, Mikhal had focused his energy on training, but he often wished he had at least known one woman more intimately.
The distant sound of rolling thunder brought Mikhal back from his thoughts. A storm must be approaching from off shore, he thought, looking out the massive window toward the coastline. Sighing, he turned around to see Hanson threatening to pummel Romlin with a turkey leg if he did not stop nagging him.
“You eat as much as your cows,” Romlin exclaimed pointing at the bigger man’s plates of food.
“I have never owned a cow. I may look like a farmer, but my family is as noble as yours. And yes, I eat a lot, and if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I will eat you!” The southerner raised the drumstick menacingly as courtiers turned toward the three to see what was happening.
“Both of you shut your mouths before I have you flogged. You’re embarrassing us. Now act like the officers and noblemen you’re supposed to be.” Mikhal never used his rank to order his friends around, and he was not sure if they would listen to him, anyway. Mikhal was, officially, their superior and second in command of the company. It was important for them to realize this, in case anything ever happened to their commander. He was surprised and glad to see them both stop and lower their heads in silence. “That’s better.” Hanson put the drumstick back on his plate and continued to scan the table for more food.
“And Hanson, leave some food for the other guests,” Mikhal added.
The king continued to receive his guests as he introduced his future son to his subjects. He was so happy about everything that he did not see Mikhal’s mysterious woman approach to pay her respects. The woman became engulfed in her dark red cloak as she kneeled before the king, Kristian, Allisia, and her brother, Justan. Kristian sensed something was wrong as he continued to stare at the woman hidden underneath the red fabric. “I have come, king of Duellr, to pay my respects to you and the prince of Erand on behalf of King Ferral of Belarn.” Lightning flashed above the glass roof as Kristian’s eyes widened in horror at the impossibility of what he was seeing.
The beautiful woman slowly transformed, growing more than three times her original size. The cloak still managed to hide everything from their view, but it was obvious that the thing underneath was no longer the beautiful woman. Bulging muscles could be seen even through the thick fabric, and a deep hideous laugh filled the throne room.
The king was horrified and could not move. He could only stare at the looming figure that was rapidly approaching. In an instant, the monster had him. The demon grabbed hold of the king’s head with one massive, clawed hand and twisted it fiercely until there was a loud snap. Before anyone could react, the demon pulled the king’s head from his body and tossed it onto the blue marble floor. Blood sprayed all of those nearby including Kristian and Allisia. The courtiers screamed in panic and ran toward the doors as the king’s headless body rolled down the dais. They did not know what was in the room with them but were certain their lives would soon be over.
The king’s children were right next to the thing. Allisia stood frozen. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out between her tightly closed lips.
Struggling to overcome his shock, Kristian pulled his saber free and prepared to send the thing back to hell. The evil creature turned on him as he finally moved into action. It crouched within its cloak, preparing to attack; before it could spring, a loud clang spun the monster around. Alek stood over the king’s dead body. He had used all of his strength to drive his blade through the creature, but when the blade hit the demon’s scaly flesh, it shattered. The cavalry commander looked into the fierce yellow eyes and fell victim to the demon’s ability to cast fear and doubt. He tried to move out of the creature’s path, but his legs would not move. It swatted effortlessly at the captain sending him across the room. Then it turned its attention back to the prince of Erand.
Sweat ran down Kristian’s face as he looked into the folds of the creature’s hood. Although he could see nothing in there but an impenetrable darkness, he knew it was smiling at him. Kristian was paralyzed by fear. It bowed to him in a mocking gesture, laughing. Then, from its crouched position, Ferral’s demon launched at him.
The monster’s attack was stopped in midair by the thrust of a spear at its abdomen. The demon rolled away from Kristian lithely and sprang back up in a crouched position anxiously looking for the new attacker. The hood had fallen back, revealing the demon’s face. The monster was horrifying to look at, its face full of horns and scales. Its slitted yellow eyes were looking for the person that had interfered.
With a determined look in his eyes, Mikhal carefully maneuvered into a defensive position between his prince and the demon. He braced for another charge, holding what remained of the spear in his hands.
The demon hesitated, lowering its defenses as it looked at the young cavalry officer. For a moment Mikhal thought he saw the beautiful blonde woman again standing before him. It hesitated, unsure of what to do. The monster moved as quickly as storm clouds flying across the plains. The demon brushed Mikhal’s side but did not kill him as it came at the prince. It knocked Kristian over and snarled at Allisia. She was in shock and paralyzed by fear, but as the demon stopped to look at her, she suddenly screamed in terror. The demon reached out and grabbed her arms.
“No!” Kristian shouted as he sprinted toward them.
Allisia fainted, and the monster scooped her up, running toward the stained glass window. The demon was about to crash through it, but then abruptly turned around to face Kristian. Its face contorted in pain, stretching back into a more feminine shape. It was hideous to watch, this transformation from hell spawn to beautiful woman, but it lasted only long enough for it to utter a few words. The demon’s deep-throated voice was barely understandable.
“Do not attempt to follow. Do not attack Belarn. You have seen our power. Do not provoke us further,” the demon warned.
It seemed as if that was as much control as the monster could muster. The demon’s face quickly transformed back to the hideous mask of something from the abyss; it howled in anger before smashing the glass with its clawed foot. It readjusted its hold on Allisia’s limp form and then plunged into the darkness.
Kristian and Mikhal reached the broken window a moment later, staring out into the stormy night. There was no trace of Allisia or the demon. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as the two looked back at each other.