Legacy

  “The tunnel leads into the chapel.”

  “Alera. Alera, wake up.”

  Narian’s voice gradually penetrated my many layers of slumber, and I peeled open my eyes. For a moment I was disoriented, but when I saw him gazing out one of the windows of the stable, the evening came rushing back, jolting me awake. We needed to reenter the palace.

  “You should change,” Narian instructed, tossing me the gown I had given him earlier to place into his pack. “We need to leave before the stable hands arrive for the day.”

  I nodded, glancing around for a place where I would not be seen. After finding nothing more fitting, I entered an empty stall and reemerged a few minutes later wearing my simple cream-colored frock. Narian had not moved, and I extended the black clothing to him as I went to his side, watching as he tucked the items into his pack.

  I could tell from the grayish light filtering through the window that the sun was just rising.

  “How are we going to get back into the palace?” I queried with a touch of panic.

  “We’ll walk through the front gates.”

  Unable to think of a better alternative, I nodded, hoping he knew what he was doing. He reached out to pluck a bit of hay from my hair and my cheeks grew hot with embarrassment.

  “I’m afraid I’m not very presentable,” I said.

  He smiled, then took my hand and drew me to him.

  “I prefer you in breeches,” he teased, lifting my chin to give me a light kiss. “But other than that you look just fine.”

  I shivered, and he draped his cloak around my shoulders, donning the leather jerkin himself. He pulled open the stable door and we walked toward the courtyard gates, the frosty grass crunching beneath our feet.

  “Halt! State your purpose!”

  One of the Palace Guards on duty hailed us, but before I could answer, he recognized me, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

  “Princess Alera! What are you…? How did you…? Where did you…?”

  “Pleasant morning for a stroll, don’t you think?” Narian interrupted.

  “Yes, of course,” the sentry replied, eyes flicking back and forth between Narian and me. He pounded on the gate and told the guard on the other side to grant us entry.

  As the gates opened, I cast my eyes upward and saw the tower guards likewise staring at us in confusion. I looked down again so the soldiers would not see my grin.

  We walked up the white stone path through the Central Courtyard to the front doors of the palace, where we replayed the same scene. Finally gaining admittance, we stepped into the Grand Entry Hall, and I hoped it was early enough so that we would not stumble into any of the royal family’s personal guards, who would be far more willing to raise questions than the guards on night patrol in the corridors. We climbed the Grand Staircase, and after whispered good-byes, moved in separate directions, I toward my quarters, Narian toward the rear of the palace and the stairway that led to the third-floor guest rooms.

  I felt giddy as I entered my parlor—from tiredness, from happiness and from how daring our actions had been. I retired to my bedroom and slipped into bed, not intending to fall asleep, but so that my personal maid and my bodyguards would not detect any change in my daily routine. As long as none of the sentries mentioned the hour of our arrival to Cannan, Kade or the King, we would go undiscovered, and I smiled to myself, cherishing the memory and wondering if Narian felt as content as did I.

  Narian paid one more visit to my balcony before Christmas, but instead of leaving the palace, we simply talked. It was when we were sitting quietly together in my parlor, warmed by each other’s company as well as the glowing embers in the fireplace, that he confided he had turned seventeen, although he was forced to confess that he was unsure of the exact day, only that it was in December. While his parents would know the date, Narian was estranged from his family, by Koranis’s decree. A terrible sadness clutched at me as I wished him a happy birthday, for I knew he no longer had a true family in either Hytanica or Cokyri. If he shared any of my feelings, he did not show it, but I thought his eyes as he prepared to leave were a little less bright than usual.

  CHAPTER 28

  CATASTROPHIC CHRISTMAS

  IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE AND THE LONGEST holiday of the year had just begun, for the merrymaking would continue until Twelfth Day on January sixth. The evening would commence with a sumptuous feast provided by the lords and ladies of the manor houses on the open land between the palace and the first buildings of the city. At midnight, most of the celebrants would attend mass at one of Hytanica’s churches and then resume their carousing until dawn, to disperse until Christmas Day mass in the afternoon. Following afternoon mass, the revelry would begin anew.

  Miranna and I had prevailed upon Narian to accompany us into the city that night, as he had never participated in holiday rituals of the type practiced in Hytanica. Our bodyguards, as always, accompanied us, as did London, who seemed set on keeping an eye on Narian.

  The darkened courtyard through which we walked was peaceful and starkly beautiful, for the trees were sugared with light snow and the white-tipped hedgerows sparkled in the moonlight. The scene as we passed through the gates into the city was raucous. Huge bonfires burned and wild boar roasted on spits, to be served alongside stews, breads and puddings, washed down with ale and mead. Riotously celebrating villagers, peasants and city residents continually heaped wood upon the fires and jostled each other as they crowded around the serving tables with their own plates and mugs to receive food and drink.

  Every house and shop in the city was decorated with holly, ivy and mistletoe in the same fashion as the palace, and many of the celebrants likewise wore greenery in their hair. The exuberant crowd was not to be confined, and spilled over into the streets of the Market District and down the thoroughfare as they played games, sang carols and danced. City Guards were out in force to ensure spirits didn’t run so high as to cause damage or injury.

  Halias and Destari wore royal-blue cloaks bearing the King’s crest over their uniforms, and served as bookends to the three of us. London, in his leather jerkin layered over a thickly quilted white shirt, brought up the rear. Miranna and I were well bundled in furs, while Narian wore the dark cloak that he had of late been sharing with me.

  Miranna and I were smiling and relaxed, intent on socializing and sampling the available entertainment, but our bodyguards were tense. They tried to clear some space around us, but it was impossible to avoid the occasional bump or jostle. As for Narian, he was more closed off than usual with me, although I supposed it was due to the company we were keeping, making it difficult to know what he was feeling.

  Forgoing the feast for the moment, we watched jugglers and other performers who wended their way through the masses. Much to our bodyguards’ consternation, many of the entertainers would approach us, bent on eliciting a laugh from Hytanica’s princesses. While we welcomed most of this activity, I was apprehensive about the mummers who would occasionally come near. Ever since my girlhood, I had been frightened by their masked faces and discomfited by their silence as they performed plays in pantomime. I did not like the fact that there were no clues as to the identities of the people behind the masks. Miranna, on the other hand, would clap enthusiastically to show appreciation for their efforts, and Narian, who seemed fascinated by the mummers as well, would scrutinize their visages and movements. I lightheartedly asked him if it were possible to mime with a Cokyrian accent, and was rewarded with a small smile.

  Even as I teased Narian, another group of mummers approached us, their movements fluid in contrast to the constant and erratic bustle of the crowd. Though the others had made me uneasy, these caused me to glance in Destari’s direction, for their masks were dark and grotesque. One mask was black with lines of red streaming from its eyes like tears, its mouth twisted into a cry of misery. Another’s was gray and hideous like the face of a sickly old man. The third and final mummer wore a blank, white mask that revealed only his staring black eyes. Th
is third mummer stepped in front of me and began to wave his hands before my face as if casting a spell, and I stepped back in fright. I was greatly relieved when Destari came forward to deal with the man.

  “Move away from the princesses,” he ordered. “You’ll have to find someone else to amuse.”

  Destari guided me away from the performer, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that the mummer had now focused his attention on Narian. Still feeling on edge, I walked onward until a strangled cry from behind brought me to an abrupt stop. London, his eyes glazing over, stumbled forward to clutch at Destari’s shoulder. Destari pivoted and caught him as he went down to his knees, and my eyes darted around for Narian. I froze as I saw several men dragging him away into the crowd, one pressing a rag over his nose and mouth.

  “Guards!” Destari shouted, easing his friend to the ground. Halias reacted immediately, drawing Miranna to him and likewise shouting for the City Guards. As fear pounded like a drum inside my chest, I turned my attention to London.

  With Destari crouching next to him, London reached across his chest to his left shoulder and, with a jerk, extracted a small dart. I gaped at the tiny barb displayed in his palm, identical to those concealed in Narian’s belt—the ones soaked with enough poison to end a human life so rapidly that no antidote would be effective. The awful truth dawned on Destari as well, and his thick eyebrows drew together in alarm as London struggled to pull himself upright.

  “Cokyri…have Narian,” London gasped, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness, collapsing against his fellow Elite Guard. I sank to the ground beside him, tears streaming down my cheeks, panicked by his shallow, ragged breathing.

  As Halias took charge of the dozen guards who had surrounded us, Destari forced himself to focus on his obligations as a soldier rather than his commitment as a friend. With tremendous strength of will, he tore his gaze from London.

  “I must return to the palace and sound the signal to close the gates to the city,” he told Halias, the tremor in his voice bespeaking the cost to him of this decision.

  Halias nodded, his face drawn taut. “Go. The City Guards can help me get the princesses and London back to the palace.”

  Destari removed his arm from beneath London, then stood and strode into the crowd.

  “You two,” Halias commanded as Destari disappeared from view, pointing to a pair of brawny guards. “You will carry London. The rest of you will surround the princesses, and you will not let anyone approach them.”

  Halias dropped to one knee where I sat upon the cold ground. When I did not acknowledge him, he reached out to grip my arm above the elbow and guided me to my feet. I dragged my eyes away from London’s limp form to gaze uncomprehendingly at him.

  “We must return to the palace, Alera.”

  With Halias on my left and Miranna on my right, her arm entwined in mine, we began to walk back to our home, City Guards behind us, before us and at our sides. The guards bearing London followed. Before we had gone more than three or four paces, a horn sounded and I knew it was the signal to the keepers of the city gates to shut them down. My mind flew to Narian and I prayed that the city had been sealed in time to prevent his removal from Hytanica. But the cold fear that rose within me at the thought of Narian was nothing compared to the ache in every fiber of my being for London. I tried to still my mind, not wanting to consider that he could be dead before we reached the palace.

  The noise and activity around us that only moments ago had seemed merry and inviting was now dark and threatening. I was tense, on alert, convinced that every person I glimpsed through the barricade formed by the bodies of the City Guards was a potential enemy.

  After minutes that felt like lifetimes, we reached the courtyard gates and hurried inside. Our pace increased as we trod the pathway, and we soon walked through the front doors into the palace. As we entered, Destari, Kade and a noticeably careworn Cannan were deep in conversation, but all pairs of eyes swung to us.

  “Alera, Miranna, are you unharmed?” Cannan asked, stepping toward us.

  We nodded and he shifted his gaze to London, whose arms were around the shoulders of the two City Guards, head lolling forward.

  “Follow Kade to the King’s Drawing Room,” he said to the soldiers. “I’ve already summoned the doctor.”

  As a servant stepped forward to take the furs Miranna and I were wearing, the captain spoke to Halias and Destari.

  “I have sent troops out to canvass the city, and I have others in my command who can coordinate that effort. You will stay with the princesses…and with your friend.”

  Cannan was atypically solicitous and I understood from his words that he knew London’s death was imminent.

  Kade had already led the guards carrying London down the corridor toward the King’s Drawing Room, and the rest of us trailed somberly behind. We entered the room to find Royal Physician Bhadran examining London as he lay upon the sofa. As Destari stepped forward to engage in an exchange with the gray-haired doctor, Kade departed with the City Guards.

  Clearing his throat, our long-standing physician turned to me, his wizened face fraught with worry.

  “His pulse is barely detectable and his breathing is shallow. I’m sorry, but I am not familiar with this Cokyrian poison and know of nothing to counteract its effects. I could try blood-letting, on the chance we could remove some of the poison from his body, but he is already so close to death that I believe it would be pointless.”

  “Don’t,” I said, set on sparing London what discomfort I could.

  “How much time does he have?” Destari asked, voice husky with the struggle to control his emotions.

  “Not long,” replied Bhadran. “The best you can do for him is to try to keep him comfortable.” At my stricken expression, he finished, “I will take my leave, so as not to intrude upon your grief.” With a bow, he exited the room.

  Halias moved a leather armchair near London for my use and I sat down, feeling so weak I would surely have fainted had I kept to my feet. Looking anguished and helpless, the Elite Guards remained standing, one on each end of the sofa, as Miranna came and hugged me.

  “I will stay, in case you need me,” she whispered before sitting in an armchair along the side of the room near the gaming tables that the men used for cards, dice and chess.

  As I gazed at London, the memory of the afternoon when Narian had first showed us his unusual weaponry surfaced, and an idea burst into my head.

  “Destari,” I exclaimed. “Cannan sent one of the darts to the alchemists. Perhaps they have been able to prepare an antidote!”

  Destari shook his head sadly. “I already checked with the captain. Our alchemists have had no success in breaking down the poison so that counteragents can be identified. I’m sorry, Alera.”

  I nodded, my last hope extinguished, and lapsed into silence. After a few moments, I reached out a hand and touched London’s forehead, brushing his silver bangs away from his eyes.

  “He is so cold,” I said to no one in particular, for despite the fire crackling in the hearth, his skin felt like ice.

  Destari and Halias removed their cloaks and spread them over him, their movements so tender that tears rolled down my cheeks anew. As sobs racked my body, I heard a door open, and looked up to see my father enter.

  “Were either of my daughters endangered?” he asked the guards as he came to me, and I stood to let him enfold me in his arms.

  “No,” Destari replied. “But the Cokyrians have Narian.”

  I broke from my father’s embrace and sank once more into my chair.

  “London will suffer a soldier’s death,” the King said, resting a hand upon my shoulder. “That is the way he would have wanted it. Be at peace with that.” Turning to Destari and Halias, he added, “I must go and talk with Cannan. Let me know as soon as there is a change.” Patting my shoulder one last time, he withdrew, leaving us to our deathwatch.

  As the evening gave way to the early hours of morning, Londo
n continued to cling stubbornly to life. Destari and Halias now sat upon the floor, backs against the wall, the strain evident upon their countenances, while Miranna dozed in an armchair. I studied London’s face in the dim lantern light, marveling at the strength within him. How could he fight so ferociously against such impossible odds? I held his right hand in my own, wanting him to know someone was with him, that he did not wage his battle alone.

  Gradually my head became heavy with fatigue, and I held it in my hands as I struggled to ward off sleep. Just as I was about to lose the fight, a slight moan jarred me fully awake and I saw London move the hand I had been clasping.

  “Destari!” I exclaimed. “London is stirring!”

  Destari sprang to his feet and came to my side just as the deputy captain’s eyelids flickered.

  “London,” I said urgently, placing my hand upon his. “London, can you hear me?”

  His eyelids flickered again, but he couldn’t yet draw them apart.

  “Can it be? Should we summon Bhadran?” There was disbelief in Destari’s weary voice as he tried to come to terms with what we were seeing.

  The door swung shut and I knew that Halias had left, to return in a matter of minutes with the Royal Physician. I stood and moved from London’s side to enable Bhadran to examine the Elite Guard.

  “He has improved,” the aging doctor said, perplexed. “I have no explanation, and it is too soon to be assured of a recovery, but he is regaining strength.”

  Destari shot a quizzical, and for the first time optimistic, look at me.

  “Perhaps his thick clothing absorbed most of the poison before the dart pierced his arm,” he ventured. Turning to the doctor, he pressed, “Is it possible that not enough of the poison entered his body to take his life?”

  “Some poisons are so powerful that even the smallest dose will kill. With others, a small amount will make you ill, while a larger dose will result in death.” Then Bhadran added a cautionary note. “However, a significant dose of almost any poison will cause damage to the body, so should he survive, he may never be the same.”