The four rode along in silence for some time. Finally, Alric hissed. “It was my own uncle.” Despite his efforts, his eyes began to water.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Hadrian mentioned. “The archduke stands next in line for the throne after you and Arista. But being family, I figured he’d be just as big a target as you, only he’s not a blood uncle is he? His last name is Braga not Essendon.”
“He married my mother’s sister.”
“Is she alive?”
“No, she died years ago, something to do with a fire.” Alric slammed his fist on the saddle’s pummel. “He taught me the blade! He showed me how to ride! He is my uncle! And he’s trying to kill me!”
Nothing was said for awhile, and then Hadrian finally asked, “Where are we going?”
Alric shook his head as if coming out of a dream. “What? Oh, to Drondil Fields, Count Pickering’s castle. He is…was…one of my father’s most trusted nobles, a staunch Royalist, and the most powerful leader in the kingdom. If he is still loyal, I will raise my army there and march on Medford within the week. And Maribor help the man, or uncle, who tries to stop me!”
“Is this what you wanted to see?” the archduke asked Arista, picking up the dagger. He held it out so she could read the name “Percy Braga” clearly spelled out on the blade in her father’s blood. “It looks like you have indeed learned a thing or two from Esrahaddon. This however, proves nothing. I certainly didn’t stab your father with it. I wasn’t even near the chapel when he was killed.”
“But you did it. You ordered it. You might not have driven the dagger into his body, but you were the one who killed my father!” Arista wiped the tears from her eyes. “He trusted you. We all trusted you. You were part of our family!”
“There are some things more important than family, my dear—secrets, terrible secrets which must remain hidden at all costs. As hard as it may be for you to believe, I do care for you, your brother and your—”
“Don’t you dare say it!” she shouted at him. “You murdered my father!”
“It was necessary. If you only knew. If you could understand what is truly at stake.”
“Esrahaddon told me everything.”
“Esrahaddon told you what he wanted you to know. Do you think that old wizard is your friend? He used you, just as he’s trying to use us, just as he has always used people. He’s the reason your father had to die, and he’s the reason Alric will die as well.”
“And me?”
“Three unusual deaths look a little too suspicious. One murder is fine, and Alric’s disappearance is actually a great help. I suspect he will meet death in some quiet remote area far from here. But if you were to be found murdered, well, that may prove to be difficult to explain. You, however, my dear, have made my job much easier than you might imagine. It will be easy for me to convince others you hired those two thieves to kill your father and your brother. You see, I already planted the seeds that something was amiss. The night your father was killed, I had Wylin and a squad of men at the ready. Having failed the double-murder, you sought to correct matters by freeing the killers. We have several witnesses who can attest to the arrangements you made that evening. You would have been smarter to send a handmaid and then poison her. Alric will be found dead, and you will be found guilty of the murders. I planned on holding your trial after Alric’s body was found, but now…” he looked at the dagger and his name glistening on the shining metal blade, “now I will have to accelerate my timetable.
“I will announce your trial at once and call all the nobles to court. They will hear of your treachery, your betrayals, and your foul acts. They will learn how education and witchcraft turned you into a power craving killer.”
“You won’t dare! If you put me before the nobles I will tell them the truth!”
“That will be difficult because, for the safety of the nobles, I will have to keep you gagged to prevent you from casting spells upon us. I would have your tongue cut out now except that might look suspicious as I haven’t yet called for the trial.”
Braga looked around the bedroom once more and nodded. “I was wrong. I do approve of this choice of room after all. I had other plans for this tower once, but now, I think sealing you in here until the trial will keep you nicely isolated. And with the amount of time you’ve spent by yourself, practicing your crafts, no one will notice a difference.”
He walked out, taking the dagger with him. As he left, she saw a bearded dwarf with a hammer in hand standing outside the door. When it closed, she heard pounding and knew she had been locked in.
Chapter 7: Drondil Fields
The four rode on through most of the night. They finally stopped when Myron toppled from the horse after falling asleep behind Hadrian. Leaving the horses saddled, they slept only briefly in a thicket. Soon they were back on the road, traveling through an orchard of trees. Each plucked an apple or two and ate the sweet fruit as they rode. There was little to see until the sun rose. Then a few workers began to appear. An older man drove an ox cart filled with milk and cheese. Farther down the lane, a young girl carried a basket of eggs. Myron watched her intently as they passed by and she looked up at him, smiling self-consciously.
“Don’t stare, Myron,” Hadrian told him. “They will think you’re up to something.”
“They are even prettier than horses,” the monk remarked, glancing back repeatedly over his shoulder as the girl fell behind them.
Hadrian laughed. “Yes, they are, but I wouldn’t tell them that.”
Ahead a hill rose and on top of it, stood a castle. The structure was nothing like Essendon Castle; it looked more like a fortress than a house of nobility.
“That’s Drondil Fields,” Alric told them. The prince had barely said anything since his ordeal the night before. He did not complain about the long ride or the cold night air. Instead, he rode in silence with his eyes fixed on the path that lay ahead. As they came into view of the castle, he began speaking with a tone of pride and warmth in his voice. “It’s the oldest and strongest fortress in Melengar. They built it with thick walls of granite shaped like a five-pointed star making it impossible to find a blind wall to scale.
“It was once the home of Brodic Essendon, who in the turmoil of the civil wars following the fall of the Empire, subdued these lands to become warlord. His son, Tolin the Great, finished the work his father started. He defeated the forces of Lothomad the Bald and proclaimed himself the first king of Melengar. That was the last battle of a long war, which carved the kingdom out of the political chaos of the post-imperial era.
“They fought the battle just down there, in those fields to the left of the hill. They belonged to a farmer named Drondil and afterwards this whole area became known as Drondil Fields, or so the story goes.
“This was also the site where Tolin, his clansmen, and his warlords drew up the Drondil Charter, which divided Melengar into seven provinces. He rewarded his faithful warlords with the titles of counts and gave each of them a parcel of land. Once he was officially crowned king, Tolin felt it wasn’t proper to live in such a gloomy fortress. He built Essendon Castle in Medford and, before moving there, Tolin entrusted Galilin, the largest and richest of the provinces, to his most loyal general Seadric Pickilerinon. Seadric’s son assumed control of the province a short time later, after his father died of a terrible fever. He was the one who shortened his name to Pickering.
“The Essendons and Pickerings have always been close. We often spend Wintertide and Summersrule here with them. There is no direct blood relation, but it is as if we are kin. I grew up with Count Pickering’s sons and they are like my brothers. Of course, the other nobles aren’t happy about that, particularly those who actually are blood-relatives. Nothing has ever come of their jealousies, though since no one would dare challenge a Pickering. They have a legendary family tradition with swords.”