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AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, and that uncanny visitor who vanished in midair, Barin found himself even more anxious the next morning, with fewer answers than he had before. He paced across the throne room while Neal leaned against the wall, arms folded, chewing on a sliver of wood he had used to clean his teeth.
“I swear, Neal, I would trade places with you if I could. I’d much rather be commanding an army on the field than occupying this castle while conjuring ways to establish world peace. It seems no one wants it anyway.”
Neal chuckled. “Who’s to say I would reciprocate?”
“Someone has to be king.”
“You are the most likely subject, Barin,” Neal laughed. “I much prefer following orders. If I were king, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself—or the world.”
Barin paused and looked up at him. “And I do?”
“You do an excellent job. Don’t underestimate your abilities.”
“I wonder if my father ever had doubts about his abilities.”
“Of course, he did. But alas, it’s time to stop bemoaning your inadequacies and pay attention. Your visitors have arrived.” Neal nodded toward two women who entered and stood near the door. One of the women was dressed regally in a gown the color of midnight, the other in less elaborate attire, possibly a villager, a serf, or peasant. Barin recognized the noblewoman, even though he had not laid eyes on Anna for almost five years. His heart skipped a beat for her beauty had not faded, nor her grace lessened. Feelings he thought he had abandoned years ago immediately took root again, and it was all he could do not to leap off the dais and sweep her in his arms. He bowed cordially.
“Milady.” His voice cracked as he spoke. The women both curtsied.
“Vasil,” Anna said and then her voice softened. “Barin.”
At that moment Barin realized how alone he had been since exiling her father, and despite the political necessity in doing so, he now considered his actions a grave mistake.
“I hope to find mercy in your court. I know I’m not supposed to be here...”
“I banished your father, not you. I could never do such a thing,” Barin interrupted. “You are always welcome, Lady Anna.”
She curtsied again and came forward, the peasant woman followed her.
“I thought it expedient that I accompany this woman and speak on behalf of her husband. But before I do, I must tell you that we’ve had a treacherous journey here, as we were attacked by highwaymen and one of our sentries was slain. If you’ll excuse me for being so forward.” She held her hand over her heart and took a deep breath. Barin stepped off the dais, concerned.
“Were you hurt?”
“No, only unnerved. Lorica came to my aid and took a sword to one of the robbers.”
Barin’s eyes widened, and he considered the peasant woman. She was not as young as Anna, but carried a youthful beauty of her own, though weathered from rural living.
“You saved Lady Anna’s life?”
“I merely did what had to be done. The thieves would have killed us all.”
“Your name?”
“Lorica Rubinda.”
“Rubinda,” Barin repeated. So, Evanora spoke the truth. The prisoner’s wife came to ask for her husband’s release. Barin nodded and glanced at Neal. His friend raised a brow.
“The Crown is indebted to you, Milady,” Barin said.
“Well,” Lorica straightened the creases in her dress and glanced at Anna. “If I might be so bold perhaps the Crown would consider my request, then?”
Barin bowed slightly, giving her permission to speak. He took authority, though by stepping back onto his dais where he would maintain control. He did not completely trust his prisoner, not when the man had associations with a wizard from the Neverworld.
“You hold my husband prisoner?”
“I do,” Barin agreed.
“I’ve come these many miles to request that you release him.” Her formality left her, and her shoulders sank. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “He’s not a rebel, my lord, but a devout follower of yours. He loves you and what you stand for. He truly is a mercenary, only going to battle when we need money. He left our home to fight for you.”
“Why? There is no war.”
“There were rumors that the people of Ogress were rebelling against unfair taxes.”
Barin lifted his hands in puzzlement. “Did he set out to help the people’s rebellion? The barons are entitled to set their duties.”
“No, Vasil, he went to fight for the baron. Somehow during his travels, he ended up in Kolada and was mistaken for an insurrectionist there.”
“And you believe he was not fighting for the rebels? Why?”
“Rebels don’t hire mercenaries, my lord, they’re too poor.”
He studied the woman, without regarding Anna, for how would Lord Sylvester’s daughter know anything about this man? Barin had too many sisters to be swayed by pretty eyes and slender figures. Still, truth seemed to ring in Lorica’s testimony.
“Am I to believe you, then, and let this prisoner free? I have ten other men locked away who also have wives and children. Should I sympathize with their families and release them as well?”
Lorica’s face reddened, and she bowed her head. “I don’t know what you should do with the others, Vasil. But I can attest that my husband is innocent of any charge of insurrection.”
Barin’s mind raced with all the options to consider. Of course, he sympathized with this woman. She knew her husband as well as anyone, but could Jareth have deceived his wife? It didn’t seem likely, and she had sacrificed much to present her argument to him. “Lorica Rubinda I thank you for rescuing Lady Anna. It was a noble deed you did, not one that is expected from a woman, a serf, and certainly not a mother.” She looked up sharply at the mention of motherhood. Barin stared at her, contemplating her reaction.
“Your son. Is he well?” Barin asked.
“He’s...I...,” Lorica stuttered.
“I was told he has fits, that there are times he’s not himself. That possibly there is magic involved.”
Lorica swallowed and bowed her head again.
“Barin, if I might intercede,” Anna stepped forward. “The poor woman is grief stricken over her son’s condition.”
“Where are the children now?”
“In Kolada, at the manor. We’re doing what we can to help.”
“We?” Barin moved his focus on Anna. He might be foolish sometimes, but he had enough sense to listen to a mage whose prophecy had transpired. His warning to be careful of the woman traveling with Jareth’s wife, struck him as a concern. But who is right? Yes, he had fallen in love with Anna, still the relationship had gone nowhere, and his feelings were merely an adolescent’s illusion. Should a courtship be rekindled, he would pursue it with intellect, not emotions. One thing for certain, he did not trust her father. “Who are we, Anna?”
“My father...,” she bit her tongue. “My mother and I.”
Lord Sylvester, a co-conspirator of a coup against him, was helping Lorica’s son? Barin glanced at Neal, who shrugged.
“My dear ladies, I have failed to be a cordial host. Shall we continue this conversation over dinner in a few hours? That will give you time to rest and enjoy the amenities of the castle.” Barin didn’t wait for a reply. After signaling for Neal to follow him, he retreated through the back door of the throne room into a den where he poured a chalice of wine for the both of them.
“If what this woman says is true, that Jareth is indeed a mercenary who sympathizes with the Crown, then we’ve made a grave mistake,” he began, handing Neal a chalice.
“An honest mistake, nonetheless.”
“What I worry about is...” Barin walked to the hearth and knelt, poking at the coals. “...her children.”
“There is cause for concern.”
“I didn’t tell you about the visitor I had last night.”
“A couple of my men mentioned you summoned them to your quarters to arrest someone—only no one was there to arrest. You had a hard night?”
Barin shook his head. “I’m not daft, Neal. Someone had been there. A phantom or a spirit, or perhaps a demon. Maybe a mage,” He stood, staring at the small flame struggling to catch hold of its fuel. “At least, she said she was a mage.”
“She?”
“She called herself Evanora. She vanished before your men entered. She knew about Jareth, and she knew about his wife coming here. She also warned about a conspiracy of some sort against the children of the kingdom.” Barin glanced at the door, thinking of his nephew Maurice and the boy’s unusual episodes. A chill ran up his spine. “I’m wondering if she is the wizard Jareth met in the Neverworld. If she is, and for some odd reason she’s on our side, she may know something we do not.”
“Perhaps.”
“I think we should release the mercenary. I also think we should escort him and his wife back to Kolada and reunite them with their family. I will pass an ordinance designed to protect the children from further affliction here in Prasa Potama.”
“Such as?”
“A curfew, perhaps. Limiting travel for anyone under the age of eighteen. What do you think?”
Neal sighed and sipped his wine before he answered. “You are king, Vasil. Your decisions stand. My men can enforce a curfew. We can guard the gates at night and restrict travel.”
“Good. Let it be announced before we leave.”
“I can send troops to Kolada.”
“No. I need to go. I need to speak to Lord Sylvester, possibly Lord Castille of Ogress as well. I have a feeling it’s not just the burdens they’ve imposed that are angering the people. I want to see these villages, talk to the common folk.”
“Drawing you to their city could be a trap,” Neal suggested.
A trap, yes, it would be just like Lord Sylvester to trap him into coming to Kolada and ambushing him. Barin could prevent that easily enough. Sylvester hasn’t an army as grand as Prasa Potama, and if he did try to assassinate the king, Sylvester would be hanging himself. But if that was his intent, who else was involved? Does this rebellion in Ogress mean Lord Castille was privy to a coup as well?
“We’ll bring troops.”
“I will make arrangements.”
“Good. I want to leave before first light.”
“Yes, Vasil.” Neal bowed and pivoted.
Barin’s heart raced. The seizures his nephew experienced, this woman who had traveled so many miles, the prisoners, the mage who visited him in the night, were they omens?
“Neal!”
His friend turned to face him.
“This is urgent!”
“Yes, Vasil.”
Barin waited until Neal’s footsteps had diminished in the hall, and until the servants were busy preparing supper before he went out. Throwing his cloak over his shoulders, he walked briskly to the gateway where criminals were kept. The guard saluted him and with little instruction led him to the cell that held the Koladan prisoners. They slept, some leaning against the stone walls, others bundled in their wraps on the cold ground.
“Kayden,” Barin whispered. The man stepped forward, his jaw set, yet resistance had faded from his eyes. “Have you thought about my proposal?”
“Aye, and the men have discussed the possibility. We’re no criminals. We only want what’s right for our families.” he said.
“And?” Barin asked.
“Let us go and we won’t come against you. Our grievance is with the baron.”
“And yet it’s not your place to come against Lord Sylvester. I will. Therefore, I’m going to release you, but you’ll make your way home on foot. You’ll be given supplies enough to keep you well fed on your journey, but I can’t risk chaos during my negotiations.”
The man shrugged his shoulders and then nodded as if he understood. “We’ll have our weapons returned?”
Barin thought for a moment. A dangerous enterprise, but what man is safe without a weapon on such a long journey. He observed the others. A few men were awake, studying him with probing eyes. Enduring a cold dank prison cell had been enough to change Kayden’s heart. He could only hope the others felt the same.
“We walked here, we can walk home,” Kayden said. “But we’ll need to be armed.”
“Very well.”
Barin gave instructions to the guards to release the men and to return their weapons and afford them supplies for the trip. He didn’t return to the castle after that, though, instead he continued past the gateway to the dungeon.
The dark halls closed in on him when he entered, for no daylight reached the corridors, the chambers, or cells. Only the low flickering of torches illuminated the walls, and even that light ended as Barin descended down the spiral stairwell.
Neither Barin nor his father King Tobias practiced isolating people in these chambers unless their crimes warranted execution, and even then the prisoner’s stay in the dungeon lasted no more than a few days. For two years, this place had one specific use, and now Barin was about to relieve the vault of its function.
He descended until the end into the deepest cavern beneath the ground, where stone gave way to earthen walls and the smell of dirt mingled with the odor of rock. For the longest time Barin stood at the foot of the stairwell staring into the darkness. He could feel the sword’s form, its presence as if it were a living being, though in this pit nothing but gloom met his eyes. He loathed the magic this once beautiful sword had absorbed. He would have liked to have buried it more permanently had it not been blessed by The Keeper—the only surviving dragon who guarded the caves of Mount Ream.
The weapon rested in the shadow pointed down against the wall—dull, despised, and abandoned.
Should he trust Evanora—a woman he’d never seen before nor heard of who slipped into his room unnoticed and spoke prophetic words, beckoning him to fetch it from its crypt?
Barin hesitated to even touch the sword. It wasn’t in his heart to wield magic, much less dark magic. As he stared, a glimmer of light rested on the hilt and a whisper like a breath of air entered the room.
“This was entrusted to you by a friend.” The voice moaned—a low, deep, and raspy voice. “They swore you would only use it for good.”
“I’ve no desire to use it for anything,” Barin said to himself, for he maintained he was alone.
“Sometimes need arises and we have to go against our desires,” came the answer. A pale blue light now shone on the hilt exposing the detailed etching—a graceful horse rearing—the destrier, the Potamian symbol for honor. Barin wiped his clammy hands on his coat while struggling against the urge to pick up the sword. He had sworn never to lay eyes on it again. As the light around it grew brighter he stepped back.
“I have no idea why it’s shining except that the magic it holds is of the devil. I cannot touch such a thing,” he protested.
“Is your virtue not more powerful than the dark wizard’s iniquity?”
“Regardless, I can’t employ his trickery. Evil cannot be used to create good.”
“No. It can’t.”
Thunder resounded and the ground shook. Barin gasped as he stood on a mountain high among the clouds. The Keeper appeared in the distance his bulky body shimmered silver and blue against a gray cliff. He arched his head majestically, his body the length of a castle’s tower. Fire sparked from his nostrils as he breathed. But his most compelling features were his eyes, like rubies that reflected on every surface he set his gaze on, and his gaze now rested on Barin.
“Hear me, Barin, son of Tobias. The charm of the sword is limpid and absorbs its standards from whomever wields it. You did well keeping it here in this vault all these years, for in that time, the bitterness of its former owner wasted away. When you take hold of this weapon, the sword’s power will come from your heart. Remain pure in thought and deed, and no evil will be able to stand against you.”
“And if I fail in my thoughts?”
The dragon roared. Barin stepped back against the stone wall of the dungeon cell, yet he saw the dragon, the mountains, and the storming sky ahead of him. When the fire from The Keeper’s wrath subsided, the dragon lowered his head and closed his eyes. Smoke seeped from his nostrils. “It would behoove you not to wane, yet you are human. I will help when I can, but I am old and alone, and even dragons have their failings. May you flourish.”
Barin sighed heavily when the imagery disappeared. He was not a stranger to illusions, nor voices in the dark, nor dragons and wizards and their sorcery. Magic had been both a blessing and a curse to his family, and this vision had been more pleasant than many he had seen in the past. He had come to accept the supernatural. As the brilliance of the experience faded, the sword continued to glow, but as Barin reached out to take it, that too dulled.
It was just as well. Barin would rather hold a conventional sword than one filled with power. He took the weapon in his hands and examined it, the same ceremonial sword his father had given him years ago—a wall fixture more than a weapon for its beauty was unsurpassed and its history that of legends. Barin would have it cleaned and sharpened, and carry it with him to Kolada as the seer suggested. Whether he used it or not would be another matter.
#
When he returned to the castle, Barin stopped his personal valet on the way to dinner and presented him the weapon.
“See that this is cleaned up and honed, and find the sheath for it before I leave in the morning.”
The young man bowed, took two napkins from his doublet, and accepted the sword, holding the handle and the tip with them. “I will, Vasil. This is the sword that used to hang in your father’s den, is it not?”
“The very one,” Barin answered.
“Then it shouldn’t be difficult to fulfill your request. The sheath is in a cedar chest in the den. I will get to it directly.”
“Good. Thank you.” He patted the boy on the shoulder as they parted.
The aroma of a feast coming from the dining hall alerted him to his tardiness to the table. Finding the women seated with his sister and Arell, the food having been served, Barin nodded a greeting.
“Barin, you invited guests to dinner and you’re late!” Erika complained. “But never fear I have been entertaining them. I was just telling Anna how thrilled I am to see her! It’s so exciting. Barin tells me he’s been lonely lately and I believe it’s because he needs more feminine companionship. Wouldn’t you agree, Arell?”
Arell took a bite of his food.
“Erika, please,” Barin protested.
“I invited Anna to spend the week with us. We could go fox hunting, like the old days. Remember how we would all ride together? I would love to go riding again with you,” she held her chalice toward Anna.
“On the contrary, Sister, Anna will be riding back to Kolada tomorrow with Lorica, Lorica’s husband, and myself.”
Lorica looked up from her meal and a spark of joy lit her eyes.
“Thank you, Vasil!”
“Oh! Then I should come with you.” Erika said.
“No,” Barin put in sharply, and then smiled. “I was going to ask you and Arell to conduct matters here while I’m away. If you would.”
“Barin, we’ve come to spend time with you.” Erika gave him a pathetic look that made him blush.
“I’m sorry. This is extremely urgent. You must understand.”
“We do,” Arell interjected. “And we’ll be glad to help anyway we can.”
“I didn’t realize you would be coming with us, Barin,” Anna said, enticing him with her eyes.
“I hope that doesn’t interrupt your plans?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
Two women servants hurried into the room and whispered to Erika. Barin’s sister set her wine down, stood, and excused herself. “It’s Maurice.”
“I beg your pardon, but may I come with you?” Lorica rose quickly. “I have herbs that I’ve used for my son, and they do help.”
Erika glanced at Arell and then nodded. “Please,” she said.
“Excuse me,” Arell bowed to him and followed Erika and Lorica out the door. Barin watched him leave, and with them his good humor went also. He could tell by the anxiety on their faces Maurice was not well. The emergency left Barin alone with Anna and he half considered excusing himself, but that would be impolite.
“Erika told me about her son. I’m sorry,” Anna said softly.
“It’s a strange thing, this plague,” he said.
“You think it’s a plague?”
He looked up at her wondering why she didn’t see it the same way. “I find it unusual that two children I know are afflicted with the same sickness, and rumors reach my ears of even more. Are the children of Kolada healthy?”
“Yes, they are.” She took little time to answer. “And I’m sure Jareth’s boy will be just fine after spending time with us. Perhaps Maurice should come visit.”
“You really think your father has a cure for him?” he mocked.
Anna grimaced and sat back in her chair. Barin pushed his plate away.
“I’m sorry Anna, but there’s trouble brewing in your hometown and your father is in the middle of it. He’s the reason I’m riding back with you tomorrow.”
“Could we not talk about my father tonight, Barin? You know I take no part in politics.”
Barin sipped his wine, avoiding her eyes but the gentleness in her voice broke his anger.
“I came here for Lorica and her children. But I also came to see you. It’s been a long time.”
Barin sighed and leaned against the back of his chair as the wine smoothed his thoughts and warmed his insides. She had perfect teeth, white and nicely formed and dimples when she smiled, hair the color of chestnuts, but the twinkle in her blue eyes is what held his gaze.
“Remember that morning we rode to Ginger’s Pond to gather hemlock for Kairos?”
Barin blushed, for that was the morning he had first kissed her.
“What have you been doing all these years, Barin?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Being a prince, and then a king, ruling a country alone. You’ve had no personal life.”
“I’m fine, Anna.”
“Are you? Don’t you ever think about us? How the sun seemed to shine whenever we were together even on a rainy day? I do.”
“Anna, please. We were young. Adolescents.”
“Age had nothing to do with it other than we were free without the burden of the world on our shoulders.”
Mesmerized by her smile he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Those were happy days, indeed, and seeing her brought not only the memories to light but the buoyancy of the times. “Do you think it could ever be like that again?” he asked, wistful.
“Of course, it could. Love is ageless, Barin.”
Barin grunted. “Love.”
Anna stood, and of course he stood with her as any gentleman ought. She walked around the table and took his hands, hers so warm and gentle. Her tenderness both confused him and made his heart swell. He was a strong man, a warrior. He had already lived through more trauma than most men his age. Not once had he weakened, not like this. When she touched his face, he felt like dew rising in vapors of steam to be dried by the sun.
“I don’t see how you can live life so alone, Barin. You have your wars you fight, your dignitaries you persuade, your troubles you muse over, but you have no one to comfort you, to come to your side and love you.”
This was one battle Barin couldn’t win. He couldn’t resist her any longer. He wanted that love more than he wanted anything else in the world. Their lips met and then he lost himself in her world, as if he’d never left that grassy meadow by the lake, or that the sun had never stopped shining on them, or that he’d never grown older. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, kissing her hair.
“Or to love,” he whispered. “Anna, you must promise me something.”
She looked him in the eye, waiting.
“That no matter what happens, if your father engages in something sinister, you will choose good over evil.”
“Barin how could you think...”
He put a finger to her lips. “I have loved you for a long time, Anna. Granted I denied it, hid it, ignored it, often hated it. I never expected to see you again, now here you are. It’s as if you never left, as if all the reasons for your departing never happened. But they did. I’m tired of growing old without these feelings I have toward you. I want this for us. I’m not asking you to choose between anything other than right from wrong. I’m not insinuating that you wouldn’t, but I don’t want to hold back my trust. I love you, but I want to be able to love you wholly.”
“I’ll always do what’s right. Or try to.”
He nodded, wanting to be convinced more than he was. The gentle caress of her hands in his hair softened his worry but did not make it go away. He took her wrist and moved her touch away from him.
“I’m human, Barin. I made mistakes in my past just like anyone and some of those mistakes cost me dearly. But I have learned from the worst and regret the others. To be loved by you is the most precious of all gifts I’ve ever been given. I would not throw that gift away. Not in a million years.”
She kissed him, and he returned her kiss.