Chapter 21
Breakfast was served early the next morning. It was a hearty meal of scrambled eggs with chunks of ham and skillet potatoes along with biscuits and jam. The frivolity of the night before was replaced with a somber mood. They would reach the palace of Glen Morillian by evening. Alexander knew that the duties he’d inherited would weigh heavily on him in the days to come. He also knew that there was a very real chance he would not survive the coming war with Prince Phane and the world he’d grown up in would fall into darkness. When he forced himself to look the situation squarely in the eye, he couldn’t help but sense madness scratching at the edge of his consciousness.
After a quiet breakfast they walked to the stables. Alexander was surprised to find different horses saddled and ready for them. Their new mounts were healthier and better cared for. The stable master said he wanted to give the horses they’d ridden in on time to recuperate from the long journey. His saddle, weapons, and gear were strapped onto a white saddle horse with a brown splotch on his forehead. Alexander patted the side of his neck as he spoke softly to his new steed and the horse leaned into his affections. He was a magnificent animal, full of spirit and intelligence. Alexander fished around in his saddlebags and produced a carrot. His new mount eagerly took the treat and nuzzled Alexander for more.
They traveled down a long straight tunnel cut through the heart of the mountain. All along the ceiling grew greenish-yellow lichen that emitted an eerie light that illuminated the corridor well enough to ride by. Once his eyes adjusted to it he thought he might even be able to read under the strange glow. They rode at a steady pace for almost an hour before the light of day could be seen at the end of the arrow-straight shaft through the mountain. When they emerged it was midmorning and Alexander got his first glimpse of the Glen Morillian valley.
It was as idyllic a place as he could ever have imagined. The long tunnel through the mountain spilled out onto a high mountain ledge big enough to assemble a battalion. The space had been cut from the granite of the mountain itself. From this altitude, Alexander could see that the entire valley was ringed with an impassable mountain range that acted as a natural defense. The mountains rose sharply from the valley floor below, reaching high into the sky. He could see rolling grasslands, patches of evergreen forest, and crystal blue lakes with mountain streams running between them.
The roadway down from the imposing altitude wound through the foothills after a series of switchbacks cut into the face of the stone mountains. By noon they arrived at the valley floor. It wasn’t exactly warm but it was a great deal warmer than it had been at the altitude of the tunnel opening.
Alexander spent the afternoon riding through a dream. The entire valley was dotted with small family farms. The fields were well kept and the herds he saw were healthy and fat. The forests they meandered through boasted giant trees that looked like they were trying to challenge the mountain’s claim to the sky. People were friendly and greeted them or waved as they passed.
There was little conversation during the afternoon ride. Erik led the way at a good pace. Not a hard ride but fast enough that it made little sense to try to talk. Occasionally, Abigail would get Alexander’s attention and point out some new piece of scenery around a bend or over a hill. She was clearly just as awed by the perfect-looking little valley community as he was.
Then they came out of a little wood and saw the city itself. The outskirts of town consisted of simple cottages and houses all neatly lined up along well-ordered streets. Each house had a yard and a garden plot of its own; most were surrounded by well-kept, sturdy little fences meant more to mark a person’s property than to keep people out or animals in. The place looked well maintained, as though everyone took pride in their property. The cobblestone streets were well made and clean.
The squalor Alexander remembered from the streets of Southport was nowhere to be seen. There were no beggars and the people on the streets moved with a purpose as if they had someplace to be or something of value to do. People were friendly enough and a few took an interest in them as they rode through, but Alexander suspected their glances had more to do with Abigail and Isabel than with him.
He rode beside Erik as the Ranger guided them through the streets. He could hear Abigail and Isabel talking to one another while they moved toward the center of town and the palace. Alexander hoped they would become friends. His sister’s opinion was important to him and he took her counsel seriously. She was younger, but she often had a way of seeing things in a different light. He rode silently, content to be alone with his thoughts as he took in the industrious little city tucked away in the shelter of the secluded mountain valley.
The true splendor of it all lay in the center of town. There was no wall around the palace, but instead a simple stone walk a good seven feet across that formed an unbroken circle surrounding the entire garden grounds. On one side of the circular walkway, the city was built up with buildings of all sorts lined up against the outer edge. On the other side were carefully manicured gardens stretching to the walls of the single building in the center of the palace grounds: a magnificent white marble castle that looked like it belonged in the stories Alexander’s mother had told him when he was a child.
Each corner of the seven-sided fortress formed a circular tower that reached up above the thirty-foot walls into the sky. Four of the towers were capped with conical spires done in gold leaf that caught the sunlight. Each stood a different height and each was topped with a flagstaff flying a colorful pinion. The remaining three outer towers culminated in flattop platforms surrounded by crenellated battlements. From the central building rose another two towers, both with greater girth and height. The taller tower was topped with a broader conical spire also done in gold leaf and flying the flag of Glen Morillian; the second culminated in a sheltered watchtower with an open-air bell. Stone-railed walkways connected several of the taller outer towers with the central towers as well as the main building itself, which stood a good three stories above the outer walls.
The structure looked like a fortress that had never faced a siege. Its white walls were polished and unmarred by violence. Its grounds were sculpted and scrupulously well maintained. Alexander suspected that any attack against Glen Morillian had probably started and ended at the fortress gates high in the mountains.
When they crossed the circular walkway surrounding the palace grounds, Alexander noticed that the smooth, unbroken granite walk was inlaid with ancient-looking symbols in pure burnished silver. Along each edge ran an inlaid band of gold an inch wide. The sheer weight of the precious metals set into the circle surrounding the palace grounds would have been enough to buy a small kingdom. Alexander began to wonder if it served some other purpose than simple decoration. In most cities, the entire guard force would have to be continuously deployed just to keep people from prying out little chunks of gold and silver in the dark of night.
Only moments after they passed over the inlaid circle and entered the palace grounds, the castle bell tolled once, bright and clear. Alexander could hear the echo return from the surrounding mountains in the distance.
The gates to the palace stood open and looked like they hadn’t been closed in a very long time. Erik rode through like he lived there but even he was somewhat surprised by what greeted them within.
An entire regiment of Rangers filled either side of the courtyard. Each dressed in identical brown leather armor and woodland green cloaks. Each stood at attention with a long spear, butt end down, at his right side and a sword on his left hip. Down the middle of the courtyard lay a clear path leading to a reception party surrounding an older man and woman, each also dressed in the uniform of the Rangers. The only thing that differentiated the man at the center of it all was the red sash he wore across his chest. Otherwise, his uniform was the same functional leather armor and warm, fur-lined, forest-green cloak that the rest of the Rangers wore.
Alexander again felt that tingle run up his spine. He glanced over his shoulder at Abigail and saw she wa
s worried as well. Erik halted the procession twenty feet short of the reception party and dismounted. Alexander and his companions followed his lead. Once they were on the ground, a number of stable hands seemed to materialize out of the formation and take the reins of their horses. Erik gave Alexander a look that said, “Follow me,” then turned and walked to the man in the red sash.
“Father, it is my honor to announce Lord Alexander Valentine, bearer of the Mark of Cedric.” His clearly spoken words reverberated into the silence that followed.
Alexander stood stock-still before the big man. He was taller than Alexander and easily forty pounds heavier without any trace of fat. His face was weathered and his sandy blond hair was starting to show a hint of grey. He appraised Alexander for a long moment before stepping forward.
In a low and rumbling but gentle voice that Alexander suspected could fill the entire courtyard, he said, “Lord Alexander, you are welcome in Glen Morillian. May I see the mark?” Alexander puzzled a moment at the title. People had been calling him Lord Valentine, as was the custom for addressing a minor noble. The title Lord Alexander meant something else altogether. The tingle of dread returned.
Alexander got the distinct impression that his host was a man who didn’t have time for superfluous nonsense and decided that the big man in the red sash reminded him of Anatoly. Without a word he pulled the collar of his hooded cloak down and revealed the mark burned into the side of his neck. Murmurs rippled through the assembled Rangers.
The man in the red sash stepped forward to look more closely at the intricate pattern burned into the side of Alexander’s neck. After a moment of close examination he took a few steps back and held Alexander with his steely blue eyes for just a moment before speaking in a booming voice that did indeed fill the entire courtyard.
“I am Hanlon Alaric, Warden of the Great Forest, Commander of the Rangers and the Keeper of the Royal Bloodline. I am at your service, Your Majesty.”
As if the words that tumbled out of the man’s mouth weren’t enough to freeze Alexander to the spot, what he did next threatened to overwhelm his sanity. Hanlon Alaric, a man with three important titles, went to his knee and bowed to Alexander. In unison, every Ranger in the courtyard followed his lead. A moment later Alexander was looking around almost wildly to find that everyone in the whole place was on bended knee offering their fealty to him. His heart caught in his throat when he saw that Erik, Isabel, and even Anatoly were bowing as well. Jack had even gone to his knee. The only people who remained standing were Lucky, who was looking around with a big stupid grin on his face and Abigail, who gave Alexander a look that meant she thought he was in big trouble.
The look on her face mirrored his feelings. He was just a glorified ranch hand. If these people knew who he really was they would probably toss him in a dungeon for his presumption alone. A moment later he realized with a growing sense of alarm that everyone was still on bended knee. He tried to speak but nothing came out.
He deliberately cleared his throat before speaking. “Rise,” was all he could get out.
The situation was teetering on the edge of madness. Warden Alaric stood, followed a moment later by all of the Rangers with a precision that only comes from long-practiced discipline. He glanced over at Anatoly for an explanation and got only a shrug that said, “I’ll tell you later.” He also saw that Isabel was looking at him a bit differently.
He extended his hand to Hanlon as he found his voice, “Your sons and your daughter saved my life. I am in your debt.”
Hanlon smiled with pride as he took Alexander’s hand. His grip was firm and honest.
Alexander let his vision slip out of focus and saw that Hanlon Alaric was a man of courage, strength, and fierce loyalty. Alexander decided that he liked him. In the back of his mind he noted that Hanlon Alaric was also Isabel’s father.
Hanlon turned to Erik and Isabel with a smile. “You’ve done well.” He held each of them in turn for a moment with a look of fatherly approval.
It reminded Alexander of the way a look from his father could make his heart swell with pride. Then Hanlon stepped past his children and regarded Anatoly for a moment with a stern look that broke into a boyish grin. He and the big man-at-arms clasped arms in greeting.
“It has been far too long, my old friend. It seems like only yesterday when you and Duncan and I were riding together in the border wars.”
Anatoly embraced the Forest Warden. “Only yesterday indeed, the mountain air has been kind to you,” he said as he stepped back to look at Hanlon. “You don’t look a day over fifty,” he said with a mischievous grin that Alexander had seldom seen.
Hanlon scowled at the good-natured jibe. “So where is Duncan, anyway?”
The question brought the seriousness back to Anatoly’s face in an instant. “We have much to discuss,” was all he offered in answer.
Hanlon seemed to pull the mantle of authority back around him like a cloak against the cold of loss and nodded solemnly.
He turned to Alexander. “Please, Your Majesty, come inside. As Anatoly has said, we have much to discuss.”
Alexander nodded stiffly. His head was reeling. His grief for his brother and worry over his parents was now fresh in his mind from Hanlon’s question. Alexander wanted some answers and he meant to have them tonight.
“We certainly do,” he said, motioning for Hanlon to lead the way.
The inside of the palace was warm and well appointed with simple yet elegant furnishings. The broad marble hall they entered through was lined with a long, dark-green carpet that covered only the middle of the hall and left the polished stone floor bare for a few feet on either side. Lighting was provided by mirrored oil lamps hanging from brass sconces at even intervals along the walls. Fine tapestries and paintings of natural settings occupied the spaces between the lamps. It almost gave the feeling that one was walking outside through a collage of the most beautiful scenery Glen Morillian had to offer.
Hanlon led Alexander and his companions through the maze of the palace. The rest of the reception party followed behind whispering amongst themselves. Alexander started to wonder about those people. He assumed that the middle-aged woman in the Ranger’s uniform was Hanlon’s wife. A few of the others were also dressed as Rangers but others were in robes or more fancy and expensive attire. Some looked like nobles or courtiers while others were perhaps advisors.
Alexander hadn’t taken the time to examine them with his second sight, but in the light of Isabel’s warning, he intended to do so. He felt decidedly out of his element. This was a place where things may not be as they seemed and danger could present itself in ways not easily defended against. He resolved to keep his guard up and to offer his trust only to those who had earned it. What he needed more than anything was answers. He had so many questions but was afraid that in asking his questions he would reveal weakness or vulnerability to those who might wish him harm. He needed to get Hanlon and Anatoly alone where they could have some privacy but he suspected that might not be an easy task given the intense interest his arrival had stirred up. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he didn’t understand, and so many expectations behind the many eyes that watched him now.
Alexander had always been more comfortable out on the range herding cattle or directing one of his father’s harvest crews. He was simple at heart. He valued candid and blunt speech but feared he would not find it here, at least not in open court.
Hanlon led the procession into a big room with a long rectangular table set in the center. Comfortable-looking, ornately carved oak chairs ringed the table and lined the two long walls. High overhead, the arched ceiling was made almost entirely of fine crystal glass that allowed ample light into the room during daylight. Finely crafted oil lamps hung in a row several feet over the center of the long table and lined the walls in evenly spaced sconces. The floor was carpeted in a rich red that gave the room an air of authority. It was clear that this was where important matters were discussed and disputes resolv
ed. This was the heart of the court.
Everyone filed in and several of the reception party wearing finery and jewels casually took seats at the table as if they belonged there. Alexander was at a loss. He didn’t know where to sit or what was really happening until Hanlon went to the head of the table and motioned to Alexander.
“Please, Your Majesty, I would have you sit at the head of my table.”
Alexander nodded his thanks as he took the richly adorned chair carved with images of every sort of woodland creature imaginable. Hanlon took the seat to his immediate right and the woman who stood with him in the reception party took the chair to Alexander’s left. A Ranger or a person dressed in finery occupied every other seat at the table. Isabel directed Alexander’s companions to seats along the wall on his right and both she and Erik took seats with them.
His sense of alarm was beginning to rise. He couldn’t imagine what these people expected of him. This was entirely out of the realm of his experience. He felt like a fish out of water and was terrified that he would wind up flopping around helplessly in the eyes of these people that he’d traveled so far to seek shelter from.
What’s more, Hanlon had called him “Your Majesty” at least twice. The first time Alexander’s mind had been in a daze and he’d scarcely heard him but the second time there was no mistaking it. On top of that, he’d also addressed him as Lord Alexander. By custom, only kings were addressed by first name. And now, the Forest Warden and Commander of the Rangers had seated him at the head of his council table with a room full of nobles and courtiers who were all looking at him like they expected something.
As everyone got settled into their seats, Alexander let his vision slip out of focus and took in the colors of those around the table. The colors surrounding the Rangers were clear and bright for the most part and he judged them to be honorable servants of the Forest Warden.
The nobles and courtiers were something else altogether. Their colors were muddy and base with the quality of color that Alexander had come to understand indicated guile and dishonesty. He was beginning to feel a growing sense of alarm when his gaze fell on the man sitting to Hanlon’s right. He was dressed in simple charcoal grey robes with a thin hem of dark green embroidered with intricate black filigree. Alexander saw in an instant that he was a wizard. He was looking back at Alexander with intense interest, almost as if he could sense what Alexander was doing. Alexander refocused his vision when the room fell silent as Hanlon stood to speak.