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Almost a week after their departure, Ichabod and his servant Zolf, were still many miles from their destination. The sorcerer's old bones were not up to long days of fast riding, so he had to content himself with a more sedate pace. Slow progress and the urgency of his mission were making Ichabod irritable, as he fretted and fumed, wishing for a faster means of transport. He was already feeling the effects of the journey, yet they had barely covered a fraction of the distance. Their goal, Kóren, capital city of Mandax lay far from Meriandor, beyond the eastern border of Caregoron.
Kóren was only the first stop on their itinerary. Regardless of the outcome of their endeavours in that city, Ichabod intended that they should travel on, south to the port of Codar on the shores of the Middle Sea. Arrangements had been made for a ship of the Caregoron navy to be waiting to take them west again to Antalek, their destination, Faezil, the capital city. Their greatest challenge awaited them after Antalek. Mount Kaldshard, far to the north, halfway across the inhospitable Ruhlish Plains.
Much of Ichabod's weariness came from the nagging doubt he harboured about his ability to achieve anything in this undertaking. He knew it had little chance of success, but felt bound to make the attempt, if only to tell others about the threat that was facing them. Neither neighbour had shown any benevolence towards Caregoron, their only concession being the agreement to cease raiding its land. Even the resulting peace was only a matter of respect for the Jelvoan-led army rather than for the politics of the truce.
Recent incidents further troubled the old sorcerer, despite being unaware of the events unfolding elsewhere in the land. Missing his Manifex, he'd had to resort to lesser means to aid him, and although he had at his command a formidable collection of spells, he felt more vulnerable than at any time in his life. The loss of the crystal was the real source of his worry. He no longer had its life giving force without which he was certain he would soon fall prey to the effects of age. His fear wasn't for himself, but that his strength would fail before the removal of the threat imposed by Shegrimoth. Although he found himself looking for signs that his body was beginning to change, so far, there had been nothing evident, but it did little to reassure him.
Once they reached Kóren he hoped to obtain an audience with the Emperor, Ogamenn. If he could convince Ogamenn of the dangers that threatened the lands, it would make his task with Murran the court magician and the other Brotherhood members simpler, although he held out little hope.
Ogamenn had proven himself time and again to be a ruthless warlord, with little interest in the lands beyond Mandax, barring their possible conquest. By virtue of its smaller size and naturally mountainous terrain, Mandax provides poor farming, a situation worsened by its many feudal barons spending their energies in fighting with one another rather than tending the soil. Food shortage is commonplace in Mandax, as is poverty, heightened by high taxes imposed on the people to feed the endless war machine.
An alliance with such a country had proven impossible, despite numerous attempts by the present and past Caregoron monarchy. Only an armed truce had evolved once the Jelvoans commanded the army. Since that time, raids by Mandax and Caregoron's other neighbour, Antalek, had been rare, although recently their numbers had increased dramatically. This added yet another worry to those already troubling Ichabod, since he'd no wish to fall prey to such a raiding party himself.
Whilst the sorcerer and his servant continued on their way, Adam, still ignorant of the magician's departure from Meriandor had begun to lose patience with his captors. The lack of action coming directly after days filled with new experiences and challenges found him in a rare state of introspection. This self-examination had culminated in the realization that it was he who had placed them in their present predicament, further fuelling his frustration.
He'd been so sure that returning Prince Caslan would cause the people of Meriandor to welcome him with open arms, that he'd allowed himself to ignore all precautions. He'd also been guilty of permitting his own ego, which he now had to admit had become somewhat inflated, to sway his better judgement, assuming his new found powers would prevail over all. Although he could now see and admit his mistakes to himself, he hated the very idea that he'd even begun to expect people to treat him as a hero; exploiting the mark in his hair and the shielding glow his new talents gave him.
Fortunately, reality had proven to be very different. Certainly, the swatch of white hair made him a marked man, perhaps even the embodiment of some local legend, but if that were so, he would still have to earn any recognition that might accompany it. Equally obvious was the scant regard paid to the aura with which he was supposedly now blessed.
It was on this last thought that it dawned on him that here in Meriandor as in Corindell there had been no reaction whatsoever to the aura surrounding him. Glancing down at himself in a gesture he knew to be futile, he felt no surprise when he couldn't see any glow, yet somehow he felt it wasn't any longer there. Was he losing his power; had superior minds already decided that he was no longer worthy of it? His curiosity fast turned to dread at the possibilities.
Seeking an answer, he slowly moved his hand until he had eased the tips of his fingers into the pouch to touch the Manifex. As before, answers came to his questions the moment they formed in his mind. The explanation was simple. It wasn't that his strength had lessened; but with his departure from the powerful influence of Mount Kaldshard, the glow was no longer visible to others.
Condemning himself for making a complete mess of everything, his mood darkened as he became depressed at thoughts of his own ineptitude. He suddenly felt homesick, wanting to be back on his own world with nothing more serious to consider than the next day's work. Not for the first time his deliberations turned on how he had been dragged to this world. To be confronted by monsters, threatened by evil forces, and expected to save the world from destruction, all without being asked. Forgetting he still touched the crystal, the sharp voice of someone speaking jolted him from his bout of self-pity and doubt. Looking around expecting to see whoever it was, it suddenly dawned on him that it was Vilsagoth, and that he was hearing the voice in his mind.
“None of us is perfect Adam, we each have to live with and learn from our mistakes. No real harm has been done, and already you have saved the life of the young prince. It is natural that you should want to use your powers, and now you realize that there is only one right way. Already you are finding out how easy it is to fall prey to the dark side. The right motive for an action isn't always sufficient; the end doesn't always justify the means. Now shake yourself from this gloom in which you have settled. You cannot give in so easily; you have the power, use it wisely and be about your task.”
Glancing around the room, Adam saw that nothing had changed during the brief interchange, nothing that is except his resolve. He would not fail Vilsagoth, nor for that matter his friend, Beorhtán. This wasn't the end; his present plight didn't preclude him from finishing what he had set out to do. He needed to escape, but all that required was an opportunity, a momentary distraction when the guard was looking elsewhere, and he would have them out.
Having separated him from Quilvar by the simple expedient of seating them at opposite sides of the room, the guards made no attempt to restrain them. They did however, insist on silence when Adam had tried to speak. The guards had become more wary of Adam following the injury to their friend after his attempt to remove the pouch containing the Manifex. Although they watched him, none had shown any inclination to get too close.
Two of the men had seated themselves at a table in the far corner, and were busily honing the blades of their swords, their full attentions on the task in hand, leaving the third to watch over the two captives. The guards fascinated Adam, their clothing and weapons providing him with further insight into the level of civilisation the peoples of Falgorin had reached. It was impossible for him not to draw comparison between the guards, and the images his mind provided of soldiers of the Roman Army.
Short-sleeved tunics of coarse white cloth were worn under leather jerkins, with a wide belt supporting the scabbards for their short, wide bladed swords. On their feet, they wore leather sandals, their thongs criss-crossing their legs and tying just below the knee. One of the men at the table had a short dagger thrust in his belt, whilst the guard nearest to Adam had what looked like a bolas hanging from his. He'd not seen any of them wearing anything on their heads, but on the table between the men sharpening their swords rested a single helmet. Presumably made from animal hide and moulded to fit the shape of a man’s head, it had two flaps that covered the ears, with ties to secure it below the chin. There was no adornment apart from a small round emblem fixed to its front, in some dull grey metal.
It took Adam a moment to spot its counterpart on the right breast of the man seated nearest him. Perhaps it was a badge of rank, although he couldn't be sure, and if so there had been nothing in the manner in which the other two had treated their fellow to indicate subservience. Unobtrusively keeping an eye on the individual nearest him, Adam waited; hoping an opportunity would present itself when the guard would be distracted.
His chance came when one of the two at the table called to the third to ask what he would be doing when he went off duty, momentarily diverting his attention. As the guard turned his head Adam could see that he was out of the man’s field of vision, and seeing that the others were still not looking in his direction, made his move. In an instant, he had the Manifex out of the pouch, holding it aloft. He was too far from Quilvar to explain his intent in whispers, but catching the elf's eye; he mimed the act of shielding his face.
Fortunately the elf was quick to grasp Adam's intentions, because a moment later all three guards turned to look their way in response to something one had said, and Adam let fly. The crystal suddenly flared into a brilliant white sunburst, blinding the unsuspecting guards. As soon as the light faded, both Adam and Quilvar, who had hidden their eyes, were making a move towards the door, leaving the guards to stumble helplessly around the room.
They got no further than the far side of the door, when the sight that met them, halted them in their tracks. Coming towards them, his face still glowing from the efforts of running, mouth split in a huge grin, was the young prince, closely followed by Kawuhl.
“Adam, Quilvar, are you all right?” he shouted as soon as he saw them.
“Fine Your Majesty,” replied Adam, delighted to see the lad unharmed.
Then Caslan addressed the Jelvoan, whose previously surly manner had seemingly vanished as he waited deferentially at the prince’s side. “General, these two people saved my life, they must be treated with respect, I owe them a great deal.”
“As you command, Sire,” then addressing Adam he added, “my profound apologies to you both, it would seem I misjudged you and for that I'm sorry.”
Despite the apology, Adam was still puzzled by the other's actions. “We accept your apology, but if you knew who I was, how is it that you kept us prisoner?”
“With respect sir, in view of the events that resulted from your previous visit, I hardly think my actions were unjust. Were it not for Prince Caslan's insistence, I would probably still have you held until I became more certain of your intentions.”
“I see, though I'm not sure why it is that you fear my presence. However, we've lost enough time already; I have to see the king. There are matters of great importance he and I have to discuss; I must also talk to Ichabod.”
“I'm sure the king will want to question you in due course, but you cannot expect him to permit you an audience when it suits you.” It was obvious from his manner that the general wasn't about to allow Adam to dictate to him.
Again, it was the prince who took matters in hand, “General, my father will decide whom he sees and when, and since I owe my life to Adam and Quilvar you would do well to remember it. I'm sure they pose no threat to me or my family; if anything, they're probably our best hope for their safe return, I suggest that you and I do what we can to assist them.”
“At your order, Sire. I assure you that I wasn't seeking to obstruct, but I do have my duty to the king.”
“Which I understand, but it would be best served by us seeing my father as soon as we are able.”
“Very well, I've ordered a carriage to transport you since I expect you're tired from your journey, it would be as well if these gentlemen were to travel with you.”
Listening to the interchange between the prince and Kawuhl, at the mention of another carriage ride, Adam spoke up.
“That's most thoughtful of you, but I think we would prefer to ride our own horses.” Glancing at Quilvar, who nodded his agreement as all too vivid memories of the Corindell carriage came flooding back to haunt him.
“Whilst I cannot insist,” pointed out Kawuhl, “I do think it would be wise if we travelled together in the carriage. Although, and I mean no disrespect by what I am about to say, an elf is by no means an everyday sight, and the one who bears the mark would doubtless set tongues wagging. Time enough for others to hear of your arrival in Meriandor, but for the present, the fewer who know the better. Travelling in the coach, you would not be seen, besides it's here now anyway.”
Adam had heard the sound of its approach, and turned to see not an open, rigid carriage of the type they had ridden in previously, but a magnificent coach. Its gleaming black paintwork, brightened by the colours of what had to be the Royal Coat of Arms on the doors, and drawn by a team of six white horses, it was, he also noted, equipped with elaborate springing.
“I should have realized,” he whispered mischievously to Quilvar, “they'd hardly use a bone-shaker with a member of the Royal Family aboard.”
Once the four of them had boarded the coach, Kawuhl was quick to draw the curtains, thus removing them from view as they crossed the city to the castle. Besides those aboard the coach, only the guards at the gate knew of their presence, and only a few of them had heard who they claimed to be. The general wasted no time in giving them orders that they were to speak to no one of what had taken place, under sentence of death for treason.
“I imagine it's stretching the truth, but I'm sure they won't argue the point,” he said as the coach moved off.
It was frustrating for Adam that he wasn't able to see anything of the city he'd waited so long to visit, but he could see the logic behind Kawuhl's actions. Although the ride was comfortable enough, the clattering of the horses' hooves and the rumble of the wheels on the cobbled street made conversation virtually impossible.
Since they had to cross half of the city's width to reach their destination, the journey began to drag on, until gradually the gentle swaying motion coupled with their tiredness began to take effect. By the time the coach reached the castle gates, of its occupants, only Kawuhl remained awake. The moment that they passed through into the courtyard, a fanfare of trumpets sounded as the assembled King's Guard heralded the arrival of the Royal Coach.
Startled by the sudden noise, Adam woke to find the coach at rest, and Kawuhl following Caslan who had already climbed from the opened door. Word of their arrival had obviously preceded them as the king was waiting to greet his son. Hugging the boy to his chest the moment he alighted, King Randufil paid no heed to the Jelvoan, who now stood awkwardly to one side, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence.
“Caslan, where are your mother and sister, did they stay in Corindell, and why did you come back?” Concern tightening his voice, despite his efforts to appear calm before his young son.
“Father,” sobbed the boy, no longer able to hold back the tears, “they're gone, they've been captured. It was horrible. I tried to save them, but I couldn't. Ichabod told me not to use that spell, but I didn't know what else to do. It didn't work.”
By now the young prince's body was racked with sobs as he relived the ordeals of the night of his mother's and sister's kidnapping. Dropping to one knee to hold tight to his son, King Randufil tried to hide the stark terror that suddenly gripped him, as he attempted to prize more information from the boy. How could anyone have taken Jessima and Esperia? Desperately clinging to the remaining shreds of his composure, he looked up at his general, and in a voice that betrayed his emotions, asked.
“Kawuhl, I can't begin to understand all that my son has said, it's obvious he's too distressed to speak plainly, but there can be no doubt the lives of the queen and princess are in great danger. Your message mentioned that Caslan arrived back in the city in the company of two strangers, where are they, who are they, and how did my son come to be with them?”
“They are waiting in the coach, Sire. Before you see them I should tell you who or what they are.”
“What do you mean? This is no time for riddles, fetch them here this instant,” he snapped.
Having never seen the king lose his patience so quickly, Kawuhl hesitated then decided that it would still be better if he warned him whom it was that waited in the coach.
“Your Highness, one is an elf name Quilvar, the other calls himself Adam Goodchild and bears the mark.”
The king's face at hearing Kawuhl's words first mirrored the outrage that he felt at having a direct order disobeyed, changing to a look of incredulity when their meaning sank in. Spluttering in his confusion he could only say, “But...but he's the one that Ichabod translated from that other world, the one who disappeared after destroying the Manifex.”
Overhearing the conversation provided Adam with an answer to at least one of his many questions, that of how it was that the king had been waiting for his son. It seemed that the Jelvoan general had wasted no time in advising King Randufil of events, or at least some of them.
“Your Highness, I am indeed the one, although in truth it wasn't Ichabod's doing, but the efforts of one with far greater powers. You will have heard of Beorhtán no doubt?” said Adam, who having climbed from the coach, now bowed before the Caregoron King.
“By the light! Well this is hardly a welcome surprise, after what happened during your last visit, I never expected to see you again. How come you to be in the company of my son, and what do you know of this story he tells of the kidnap of my family? Step forward and explain if you can, for I swear if you have any part in it, I'll personally part your head from your neck.” His eyes conveyed the full truth of his calmly spoken threat.
Although the king crouched low, looking every inch the concerned father as he held his still sobbing son to his chest, there could be no doubting his anger, or his complete authority. Doing as he was asked, Adam stepped forward cautiously, aware that whatever he said next could provoke the overwrought man into condemning both him and Quilvar. Knowing also that he would get little or no support from the Jelvoan, he chose his words carefully as he began.
“It is with regret Sire that I meet you in these unhappy circumstances, and bearing such grave news, but you must believe me when I say that what I have to tell brings me no joy.”
Before the king had a chance to ask Adam what news, Caslan forestalled him. Having recovered sufficiently to take in what was going on around him, he'd also registered what they were saying.
“Father, why are you treating my friends like this, you have no need to threaten them. Surely you know that if you have already met.”
His voice still without warmth, the king answered his son, making no effort to hide the sarcasm. “No Caslan, I don't. You see your friend here didn't stay long enough for me to meet him, but he did do a great deal of harm when last he visited Meriandor. I'm sure that Ichabod will be most disappointed that he missed you.”
The implication that he wouldn't be able to see the sorcerer was too much for Adam.
“Your Majesty, what are you saying, why should Ichabod miss me?”
“Because he's not here. Now that's enough, I will not be questioned by the likes of you.”
“But Your Highness...”
“Enough I said,” roared the king, causing both Caslan and Kawuhl to start at such an unusual outburst, and preventing the prince from mentioning the Manifex in Adam's pouch.
Undeterred, yet aware that he was taking a great risk, Adam tried again, rushing his words to get said what he had to before the king could silence him again.
“I'm sorry Your Majesty, but it's imperative that I speak with Ichabod, Beorhtán said that I must seek him out, as I will need his help if I am to overcome Shegrimoth. You must tell me, where is he?”
Mention of the beast and that Adam proposed to challenge it brought the king up short. If what he claimed were true, and that Beorhtán had sent him, hadn't he better at least hear what he had to say? Releasing his son, he straightened until he was looking into Adam's eyes.
“He's not here in Meriandor; he's on his way to Mandax. A great deal has happened since you were here before, all of it bad, and Ichabod decided he had to visit the members of the Brotherhood to seek their assistance.”
Adam returned the unflinching stare, willing the king to accept the truth of what he said. If he was to have any chance of success, he had to have the support of the Caregoron ruler. Turning away to look at the serried ranks of colourfully uniformed men of the King's Guard; he decided that he needed to get the king to a place less public before he could explain in detail what it was he had to say. Despite the blank expressions on the faces of the assembled men, Adam knew that those close enough to hear, could well be hiding any reaction to what had been said. Doubtless several of the waiting men were beginning to wonder what was going on, and he would prefer not to add to their curiosity.
Indicating the guards with an inclination of his head, Adam asked, “With your permission, might we speak privately?”
Suddenly aware of their surroundings, the king nodded his assent.
“I think that would be a very good idea. I am normally a patient man, but if the lives of my family are threatened, my patience runs thin. You have a great deal of explaining to do before I will consider you my friend. My son on the other hand has the impetuosity of youth to hasten him into ill formed opinion. We'll go to my chambers, where you can explain your part in matters. Kawuhl will of course remain in attendance.”
Hearing his father talk in such harsh tones to the two whom he had considered friends, Caslan began to protest, but the king cut him short, ordering him away in the company of a page to be bathed, fed and rested. He would speak with the boy later.
“I understand your concerns, Your Majesty, and if I am to rescue the queen and princess, then I will surely need the general's help.”
This brought a sharp intake of breath from both Randufil and Kawuhl, but they held their peace recognizing the need for privacy before there could be further discussion of the matter. With Kawuhl barking orders to several men to form a bodyguard for the king, Randufil hurried away, leaving the others to follow him along passages, through great rooms and halls until he came to the door of his private quarters.
Only when the door had closed leaving just the four of them in the room, did the king sit. He signalled Kawuhl to follow suit, but ignored Adam and Quilvar leaving them still standing. Instantly he rounded on Adam, demanding an explanation, and news of the other members of his family.
Although it was by now well into the night, and he was both worn out and hungry from their long journey, Adam realized he had little option but to comply. He began by telling King Randufil how they had come to find his son, Caslan. He spoke of the battle in the swamp, of how the prince had tried to defend his mother and sister by using magic, and finally of them being taken prisoner leaving Caslan stranded. He explained how Antor had enlisted him and Quilvar on their arrival in Corindell, and how he had used the Manifex to find the boy.
Mention of the Manifex startled both the king and Kawuhl who had thought it destroyed. Adam explained what had happened with the crystals, telling them that he now had the remaining one. Hearing that it had been his friend Antor who had sought the involvement of Adam and Quilvar in finding his son, further mollified the king who asked, “If you are able to use the powers of the Manifex, then you must tell me, are my wife and daughter still alive?”
“As far as I can tell, your Majesty, they are alive and being held by a beast called the Ghyyrox, on some remote island. I cannot be more certain of their fate because so much evil surrounds the place, even the Manifex cannot penetrate its defences. I only have the vaguest idea where this island is.”
“We know of the Ghyyrox,” acknowledged the king, “it's already visited the city, but we must learn more of its lair.”
“Beorhtán told me it had been sent here; as to its whereabouts, I will have to try to find out more, but without Ichabod's help it's going to take time.”
“That's not the first time that you've mentioned the giant. It's obvious that you have seen him; surely if he has returned to Mount Kaldshard he could help.”
“If only it were that simple. He was there, but he had to leave. Perhaps I should explain about Beorhtán, and about how I came to be here.” And he began to tell the whole story from the time that he arrived from his own world to find himself in Ichabod's room. Although of what he had learned from Vilsagoth, and his experience in the labyrinth of the Glomers, he said almost nothing. By the time he'd finished his whole body was beginning to sway from exhaustion and from remaining standing for so long. His head was beginning to sink onto his chest as he fought to keep his eyes open.
Adam's revelations amazed King Randufil, so much so that he failed to realize how badly he was treating them both by leaving them still standing, as he hurriedly talked to Kawuhl about his plans. Finally, being ignored proved too much for the elf, who, although he could respect the fact that it was a king he was addressing, had little time for men and their ways. Rising until he floated between the Caregoron and Jelvoan leaving no opportunity for further disregard, he spoke.
“Highness, it would seem that neither my companion nor I have occasioned you any harm, in fact quite the reverse, yet you continue to treat us as unwelcome. For myself I would as soon leave you to your own devices, since I do not believe you worthy of our assistance. Master Adam has risked a great deal to return your son to you, and furthermore has asked for nothing in return. You have failed to acknowledge this cost, and continue to ignore the fact that we are both tired and hungry from our travels. Honourable men would not behave so. If you have no further use for us, we will bid you goodbye, and go about our business.”
Despite his weariness, Adam heard every word that Quilvar spoke. He'd never heard the elf so outspoken, and was surprised to find that he agreed with the little man. What right had this king to treat them so? Certainly he was entitled to his grief and anger, but that gave him no excuse for the way he was treating them. Shaking his head to dispel some of the tiredness he began to address Randufil, but he got no further than opening his mouth.
With his sword in hand, Kawuhl leapt to his feet shouting at Quilvar as he lunged at him with the blade.
“How dare you address the king in this manner, you'll pay dearly for those remarks, elf,” but his action was in vain, as the elf had vanished, only to reappear several feet away across the room.
“Stay your sword Kawuhl; it is I who should be apologizing. My friends, how could I be so ungracious, please sit I beg you. Kawuhl food for these fine people, quickly man, and then they must bathe and rest.”
In his haste to do his king's bidding, the Jelvoan general, supreme commander of the Caregoron army was hardly aware that he was being ordered to perform such duties.
Within minutes, the room filled with bustling servants, all hurrying to lay tables, bring in food and wine and serve the hungry pair. Although they were both tired to the point of exhaustion, Adam and Quilvar found they had sufficient energy left to demolish a sizeable portion of the huge array that lay before them. Throughout, the king, eager to know more about Adam and his powers kept up a constant stream of questions.
When they had eaten and drunk their fill, King Randufil led them himself to two bedchambers within the Royal apartments, where they could enjoy a hot bath before retiring for a well-earned sleep.
Troubled by the news that Ichabod wasn't in the city, Adam tossed and turned; sleep evading him despite his tiredness. Finally he sat up in bed, pulling the pouch from where he had hidden it deep under the covers, and removed the Manifex. He had to have answers to some of the myriad questions going round in his head. With the spinning globe bathing the room in a gentle golden glow as it hung in the air above his head, he began his inquisition.
Trying to get some semblance of order to his thoughts proved to be difficult. Fatigue, concern for the queen and princess, and he had to admit fear, all conspired to confuse. He did however at last manage to focus on the sorcerer Ichabod and his need to reach him. Without framing the question in any meaningful fashion, the answer, such as it was, simply stated the obvious, that he would have to travel to meet the old man.
Concentrating his thoughts on travelling to Mandax, he tried to convey the urgency he felt, the need for a faster means of finding Ichabod.
“Summon Vorcan,” came the response.
“Vorcan!” exclaimed Adam silently, his mind now crystal clear. “Vorcan the dragon, how the hell do I summon him, and what good would that do anyway?”
“Vorcan must obey the Guardian of the Crystal, he can transport you.”
And there it was, all he had to do was summon a dragon, and then hop aboard for the ride of a lifetime. Adam groaned. When would anything be easy?
Hardly convinced, there was still one question needed answering, how to summon Vorcan?
“Call and he will come.”
Nothing simpler, after all, riding a dragon was an everyday experience wasn't it? Tired beyond imagining, Adam continued to gaze at the crystal, until its hypnotic effect took hold, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The new day was to dawn late for Adam and his companion, instructions having been given by the king that their sleep was not to be disturbed. Elsewhere in the castle, Randufil was pacing up and down in his drawing room, deep in thought when his two sons entered. Rushing forward, Caslan almost bowled the king over in his eagerness to reach him. Feldric on the other hand, of an age when he felt that such behaviour was no longer allowable, walked stiffly across the room to wait before his father.
“Caslan, Feldric, I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you are both here with me.”
Randufil hadn't spoken to his youngest son since his arrival yesterday, finding the boy fast asleep when he visited his room later the previous night. Neither had he had the chance to tell Feldric how it was that Caslan came to be back in Meriandor. Now he was painfully aware that he was going to have to tell his eldest son about the kidnapping of his mother and sister. He'd arranged with Kawuhl that Feldric be relieved of his duties this morning so that he might speak with the boy.
Unwilling and unsure where to start, Randufil knew he couldn't delay what was inevitable, so directing the boys to be seated, he pulled up a chair so that he was facing them, and began.
“Feldric, what I have to tell you, Caslan already knows. I'm sure you are wondering why your brother has returned to the castle. Equally I expect you are curious as to the whereabouts of your mother and sister.” Realizing that he was beginning to sound more like the monarch addressing parliament than a father talking to his son, he tried again.
“Son, what I'm trying to say is...” his voice trailing away as he struggled to find the right words.
“What father is trying to tell you is that mother and Esperia have been kidnapped. We were attacked on our way to Corindell, I barely escaped with my life, if it hadn't been for Adam and Quilvar, I would probably be dead.”
“What are you saying Caslan that mother and Esperia aren't here, that they've been kidnapped, but that's not possible? Tell him father, tell him it's not possible.” Feldric's carefully maintained composure falling apart, as the youngster knew it had to be true.
“I'm sorry Feldric, I couldn't find the words, but what Caslan has said is the truth. Your mother and sister have been taken by the very forces we sought to avoid.”
“Where are they, are they all right, and who are the two you mentioned Caslan?”
“As far as we can tell they are alive, but exactly where we do not know. Adam and Quilvar are the two who rescued your brother from the Great Marish Swamp. They are here in the castle, and you can meet them later.”
“Can I go and see Adam now?” asked Caslan.
“I think he's still sleeping, but you may go and see. Don't wake him if he is,” his words lost to the boy, who was already racing from the room.
Scooping up his cat, Snarch, whom he found wandering in the corridor, Caslan hurried to Adam's room. Once outside he hesitated for a moment, straining to hear if there was any movement from within. Hearing nothing, he unlatched the door and eased it open a fraction, peering round the jamb to see into the room.
Caslan's cry of amazement at seeing the Manifex still spinning above the sleeping form of his friend caused Adam to wake with a start. The instant his eyes opened, the crystal dimmed and fell from the air, narrowly missing his chest as it landed beside him on the covers of the bed, closely followed by Snarch who had leapt from Caslan's arms.
“Oh Adam! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that,” wailed the prince, thinking he had caused some harm.
“It's all right Caslan; I forgot to put it away before I fell asleep. I shouldn't have left it there, although it's a good job it didn't land on my head, it would have given me quite a bump.” As he spoke, the fingers of his right hand scratched the cat under its chin, as it settled beside him purring loudly. “Who's this?” he asked.
Seeing everything was all right; the young prince hurried across the room, and climbing onto the bed said, “That's Snarch, he's my cat,” pleased by the way the tabby had befriended Adam. “If it's all right, Feldric wants to meet you.”
“Oh he does, does he, and who might this Feldric be?” teased Adam.
“Silly, he's my brother. Didn't I tell you?”
Struggling to free himself from the downy pillows that threatened to engulf him, he pushed himself up on one elbow and replied, “Now you mention it, I do believe you did. Well can Prince Feldric wait whilst I take a bath?”
“Of course I can Master Adam.”
Because his attention had been turned away from the door, Adam hadn't noticed when his second visitor had entered the room, and was surprised by what he saw. The young man walking towards him was undeniably the eldest son of King Randufil. Where Caslan favoured his mother's fairness, Feldric had the looks of the true Caregoron. Tall, with a ramrod straight back, his dark complexion, jet hair and brown eyes, all set him apart from his brother.
In the few moments it took him to cross the room, Adam studied the prince, taking in the ease with which he wore his uniform, the way his hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his hip, clearly more than just an adornment. Like Kawuhl, here was a man confident of his abilities, his military deportment no act, but a statement of his character. Here was an individual born to be a leader of men, a warrior, and in that lay the contradiction, since such was not normally the role of one of Caregoron's sons.
“Forgive me for intruding, but I felt I had to make the acquaintance of the man who saved my brother's life.” Very correct and formal, despite the conversation taking place in a bedchamber.
Feeling distinctly disadvantaged by virtue of his situation in the presence of this charismatic young man; Adam struggled to sit upright, upsetting the cat who hissed his displeasure.
“You have no need of apology, Your Highness; I am honoured to meet you.” As he took the hand offered by the prince, Adam found his gaze drawn to Feldric's eyes, surprised by what he saw there. Truly they were the windows to this young man's soul, and the hurt they reflected took him aback. He recalled Antor telling him that Prince Feldric was eighteen years old, which made him a man by local standards. He couldn't help wondering how an eighteen year-old from his own world would deal with the tragedy facing the prince.
Turning away he beckoned to his younger brother, “Come Caslan, we must allow Master Adam time for his bath,” then to Adam, “perhaps you will join us later.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
As the two princes left the room, Adam reflected on how dissimilar the brothers were. From what he had witnessed in Feldric, of the two, he fancied that despite being only eleven years old; Caslan would prove to be emotionally the stronger.
After a soothing bath, attended by several young maidens, something Adam no longer found even mildly embarrassing, he dressed hurriedly in the new clothes thoughtfully provided for him, and went in search of Quilvar and the two princes.
The castle was vast, the royal chambers seemingly endless. After several false starts, peering into banqueting halls, a library, what looked like an armoury, and several unoccupied rooms, he finally had to admit to being well and truly lost. Just as he was about to admit defeat and ask directions from the next courtier, page or servant that passed, he remembered the Manifex. Relieved that he wouldn't have to reveal his ignorance after all, he started forward, keeping the crystal all but hidden in his clothing, only glancing at it when he came to a corridor or passage to check which way to go.
As he walked, Adam tried to prepare what he was going to say to the king when next they met. He also had to find the right words for Quilvar, as he knew he was going to have to leave the elf in Meriandor when he departed with Vorcan, in search of Ichabod.
There was so much to do and say, and yet so little time. He needed to help prepare the city against further attack, create a defence for the king and his two sons, and somehow prevent Randufil from setting out to try to rescue his wife and daughter. Such a mission would be doomed to failure until he could find out exactly where Shegrimoth held them, and he needed the king in Meriandor to maintain control of the people.
So engrossed in his thoughts was he that he didn't immediately realize that he had wandered into the room where Randufil, his sons, Kawuhl and Quilvar all waited for him. It was Caslan who broke his concentration when he rushed to his side, taking his hand and insisting that he sit next to him whilst they ate breakfast.
Although pleasantries were exchanged during the meal, it was clear that King Randufil was avoiding weightier issues in the presence of his sons. The only exception was when Caslan asked Adam if he would take him along when he went to meet Ichabod.
“I'm sorry Your Highness, but I must travel alone. My transport cannot carry more than two, and I must bring Ichabod back to the city.”
“But I can bring my own horse,” came the response.
“Ah! But you see I won't be riding my horse, I have another steed.”
“What other steed?” quizzed the lad.
“If you'll wait a while, you'll see.”
