Path of the Lion (Book #1 of the "Kingdoms Enjoined" Trilogy)

THIS WORK IS PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT LAW. IT MAY NOT BE DISPLAYED ANYWHERE EXCEPT ON SOFURRY. IF YOU ARE SEEING THIS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN SOFURRY, PLEASE NOTIFY THE AUTHOR IMMEDIATELY AT [email protected] !

Chapter I

Afternoon sunlight bathed the limestone block walls of the palace in a lustrous silver, making it shine more brightly than the rest of the city. This palace was meant to shine, though. Although the ancient bastion had been built centuries ago, its name was still just as appropriate as in the days of its construction: Silverhall. The royal palace was the glistening jewel of the silver city of Adrinia, itself the resplendent gem of the prosperous southern Adrian kingdom of Brea. Silverhall towered above the surrounding city, a sparkling reminder of the glory passed on from the kingdom's elder days.

The palace was a legacy of the city whose people were as strong as the white block walls. The city was ancient -- more ancient than the kingdom itself, in fact. Adrinia had weathered the elements, political unrest, war, and siege, but still it remained, an indomitable testament to the enduring spirit of its people. The city projected an image of contented tranquility; common and gentry alike went about their business within the walls of the city, passing in and out of its gates concerned only with the singular present, unconcerned with yesterday or tomorrow. Yet even the most tranquil waters always had currents ebbing and flowing beneath the surface, and these currents could pull a boat to the bottom if not properly navigated.

A cool breeze rushed south out of the mountains, bringing some relief from the afternoon heat of the summer day. To some, the breeze served as a pleasant escape from the heat. To the lone figure standing on one of the palace's balconies, however, it served only as a reminder that all was not well in the north. The breeze playfully, even mockingly, caressed the mane of the lion who stood on the balcony.

King Asher Brenin looked ruefully towards the mountains from whence the breeze had come. The mountains rose like a blue-grey wall from the northern horizon. Most of Brea's citizenry saw the Slate Mountains as an impregnable barrier. King Asher knew better, of course. In many ways, the mountains were indeed a barrier, but that barrier was certainly not impregnable. The powerful lion knew he was looking towards the edge of a cauldron. Dangerous forces were at work behind that barrier. Asher knew he walked the hairline edge of a sharp sword; one mistake on his part could cause that simmering cauldron to boil over and scald his kingdom.

Asher was a fine lion, both highly intelligent and physically powerful. He was tall and handsome, just barely approaching his thirties. Despite the hectic life he had led, his features had not yet begun to display the signs of age. His piercing hazel eyes were still dark and unclouded, his chestnut-colored mane was thick and not yet streaked by silver, and his tawny fur had not yet become hard and coarse.

In his hand, Asher held a wrinkled letter, one obvious source of his distress. The note in the king's hand was ragged and wrinkled, but obviously from repeated readings rather than from age. For a brief moment, Asher considered letting go of the bit of parchment and allowing the breeze to carry it away. He quickly dismissed the childish notion; ignoring the problem at hand would not cause it to disappear, and this letter was not one he could allow to fall into the wrong hands and become public knowledge.

This was not yet a problem for the common people. If Asher was the king he hoped he was, it would never become a problem for the common people. Asher was well aware that his actions in the coming days would affect many fates. That was a heavy thought, but not as painful as the realization that he had been so naïve as to believe Brea's warring days had ended in his youth.

The War of Flames had ended fifteen years before. Asher's father had died fighting the armies of Mygeth (the northern kingdom of the Adrian Realm), leaving Asher a kingdom at war. Asher had had almost no time to mourn his father before being forced to take up arms himself. Those events had robbed Asher of his childhood, pressing him to take over an ailing kingdom and a broken army at the age of thirteen. Even though Asher had no present quarrel with the ruler of Mygeth, the Mygethian king was a source of Asher's distress. Callor, the dragon who sat on the throne of Mygeth, was the author of the letter in Asher's hand. As of yet, Asher had not shared the letter's contents with anyone; he needed time to meditate on its implications and consider what to do next before taking the next step of going to his peers for advice.

King Asher couldn't honestly say he didn't expect something like this sooner or later, but he had hoped his instincts would be wrong in this case. He looked at the missive again. Something was very wrong in Mygeth for Callor's report to be accurate. Asher suddenly felt a deep pang of loss, too; he remembered the Mygethian sage with fondness, and now Callor told him in the letter that the kind sage had been murdered -- not only murdered, but, at least according to the Lawspeakers, murdered by a Brean assassin. The Lawspeakers had always shown subverted hostility towards King Asher, and this gave them a reason to be more overt in that hostility. However, Asher knew that he had sent no assassin, meaning someone in Brea or Mygeth had acted without his authority.

The tension between Brea and Mygeth was nothing new, of course, but some elements in Mygeth would view this as the perfect reason for open hostility towards Brea, and truthfully, Asher knew there were plenty of people within Brea who harbored similar feelings for Mygeth. The Slate Mountains prevented large clashes between militant groups on both sides of the border, but skirmishes and fights were certainly not unheard of, and King Asher knew from Adrium's history that these minor incidents could become a full-scale war if left unchecked -- a war that neither Brea nor Mygeth could afford. More disconcerting was the fact that this incident had occurred not along the border, but in the very heart of Mygeth's capital.

Before anything else, King Asher knew Callor needed reassurances that the assassin was no agent of Hus Brenin. He hoped Callor, at least, would take him at his word, but he knew his word would never be enough for the Lawspeakers. King Asher always suspected that Mygeth's complex system of politics would be its downfall, but he was by no means eager to see that proven by this incident. Asher's tail twitched nervously as he tried to decide what to do, and then he thought of Queen Felida. With the queen heavy with child, the urgency of the situation was more evident. If the timing of the assassination could have been worse for Brea, King Asher couldn't imagine how.

King Asher heaved a gloomy sigh as he took one last look at the distant mountains. His word would have to be a start, at least. Running a hand through his wavy mane, the king brushed strands of reddish-brown hair out of his eyes then turned his back on the mountains and returned to his private study within the walls of the palace.

The king sat down at his desk and unrolled a sheet of parchment. He took his quill from the inkwell and blotted it. As he touched the quill to the parchment, however, he found his hand unable to write a reply to Callor's message. King Asher usually had no difficulty making words flow from either his mouth or his pen, but his usual ability seemed to have suddenly deserted him. He sat in silence, holding his pen to the blank parchment but unable to make it move.

A knock at the door provided King Asher with an appreciated distraction. Young Aureus, the king's valet, entered timidly as Asher looked up from his as-yet-unwritten communiqué. "Does His Majesty wish to dictate a letter?" the young jackal asked.

"No, not right now," the king murmured, setting his quill aside in frustration. "Is there someone to see me?" he asked, getting up from his chair and stretching his arms.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the young attendant nodded, "Thegn Kahalith is here from Advard, and King Callor's runner awaits my liege's message."

"Thank you, Aureus," said Asher, "Find Roc Lares and tell him to have the runner wait in the small salon and instruct the kitchen to send refreshments, and make sure he knows I will have a message for him as soon as possible." Aureus nodded, and the king continued his instructions: "Tell the thegn I will join him presently."

"It will be done, sire," Aureus nodded dutifully and whirled to perform the task the king had set for him.

Asher stood and stretched again, trying to release some of his tension as he put away his writing implements; he knew attempting to organize his thoughts into a coherent letter would be a hopeless endeavor in his present state of mind. News of Venn Kahalith's arrival was heartening; if anyone could help him out of this mess, it was Venn. As Asher wiped the ink from his quill, he took one last forlorn look at the empty parchment, then he blew out the tall candle and walked out of the room to meet with Venn.

The king's footsteps echoed cheerily as he ambled down the marbled steps of the tower. Asher fought his urge to race down and meet his friend. His father had taught him a very important lesson long ago: however much he seemed to have the love and respect of his subjects, he must always know when to maintain a regal appearance. Kings did not rush to meet their subjects, even -- perhaps especially - close friends. Kings projected informality when they hoped to lull someone into speaking with a loose tongue. Knowing the proper boundaries between formal and informal was one of the devices upon which a king's success might rely.

When King Asher reached the foyer, however, he threw aside any trace of the formality he had shown in the halls. Venn stood as King Asher entered the room, and Asher immediately rushed over to him, embracing him warmly. Asher never stood on ceremony for Venn's benefit.

"Venn, my dear friend," the king greeted enthusiastically. Asher gestured Venn back to his seat at the polished wooden table. The old chair creaked as Venn resumed his seat. The tiger was not portly in the least; all of Venn's bulk was muscle. He was known throughout the kingdom as a great warrior. More than that, Venn was King Asher's childhood friend and most trusted confidant. "So, what news from the Greenlands, my friend?" Asher asked as he took the seat across from Venn and poured himself a glass of redcurrant cordial from the flask on the table.

"Very little, sire," the brawny tiger replied in his deceptively soft, baritone voice, "You know how it is in the Greenlands this time of year, and the spring was just dreadful. Hardly any rain at all. It's not natural, I tell you. We will likely offer very poor harvest this year." Venn smiled at the king and said, "But surely my liege didn't summon his servant from Advard to discuss agriculture and the weather."

"Truly," Asher nodded, turning somber again. "If only the meager harvest could be counted the extent of my worries," he sighed.

"Has this anything to do with the growing concerns in the north?" Venn asked, matching the king's seriousness but still managing to keep his tone light.

"Yes," the king nodded again. He took Callor's message from his pocket and handed it to Venn. "I'm not sure what to do about this one, Venn," said Asher, "I was hoping you might have some solid thoughts on the matter."

Venn studied the letter for a few moments, carefully reading and rereading each word. "Hmm..." the tiger began, "Sticky, isn't it?"

"Quite," Asher agreed with a sigh. "But what to do about it?"

"If you ask for what I would do, sire..." Venn began.

"I do, I do," the king replied energetically, "That's precisely why I asked you here before the other thegns."

"Well, obviously you must assure King Callor that this assassin was not sent by you," Venn said.

"Of course," Asher said. He'd already determined that much. "And I'm sure King Callor will accept my word," the king continued, "But what of the Lawspeakers? They're the real problem here, Venn."

"The maneuvering between the king and the Lawspeakers is nothing new, my liege," Venn shrugged, "They've been jostling for control of Mygeth ever since it was founded."

"Yes, but this assassination changes things, Venn," the king explained, "It means that one of the factions in Mygeth is willing to take an innocent life to advance one side or the other. And because Brea was implicated in this, it means that the faction that ordered the assassination also has a vested interest against us."

"The question is, who?" Venn thought aloud.

King Asher nodded. "And why?" he added, "King Callor is no fool. I have nothing to gain by ordering this sage's death, and he must know that. But who _would_gain by it? Why would anyone in Mygeth or Brea risk straining the peace like this?"

"Well, the Lawspeakers could be behind it, I suppose," Venn considered, "But they are rarely completely unified, even among themselves. What if it's just one of the Lawspeakers? Or even not? What if the king engineered it himself?"

"The thought did cross my mind," Asher admitted, "But I can't imagine why he would. After all, he has even less to gain by it than the Lawspeakers."

"It sounds to me, then, sire, like you need someone in Mygeth to ascertain the situation and protect the peace," Venn answered.

"Yes, but I can't very well march peacekeeping troops into the heart of Daraktenn," Asher said cynically, "What I really need is a diplomat."

"What you need is an envoy, my liege," Venn said, "And someone who knows leaders from both of Mygeth's key factions."

Of course! Asher suddenly realized exactly whom he needed at that moment. "The person I need is General Vandren. He helped me negotiate the treaty fifteen years ago. I'd go myself if Felida were not about to give birth. I am needed here, but General Vandren can speak for me."

"Sound reasoning, sire," Venn answered, "But please let me know how I might be of help. I doubt you summoned me from Advard just to listen to my useless mutterings."

"Quite right," Asher said with a smile, "Though your 'mutterings' are rarely useless, friend. General Vandren will need help, and you will probably be going with him, but the truth is I needed someone here to discuss more serious matters, and I can't confide in just anyone."

"More to do with Mygeth?" Venn asked curiously, "What could be more serious than what you've told me already?"

"You already pointed out the power struggle between the king and the Lawspeakers, and that it is an old struggle," Asher continued, "But in that struggle, there has always been a balance. It is that balance that makes the system work."

"I know Mygeth's government, sire," Venn said, "The king makes the laws and the Lawspeakers interpret them, and both parties enforce them. Is that not the very basis of the balance?"

"Yes, Venn, and therein lies the problem," Asher explained, "Ultimately, King Callor is ruler of Mygeth, but his rule is failing. All of that is because the Lawspeakers are bidding for control at every turn, seizing whatever scraps of power they can pry from the king's grasp."

"Of great concern to Mygethians, I'm sure, sire," Venn nodded, "But I've yet to see how this affects us. Not to sound unsympathetic to Callor, of course."

"And sympathetic we should be," Asher answered emphatically, "See, both of Mygeth's leading entities talk of restoring Mygeth to the power and glory it saw under the Adrin Dynasty." Asher recalled those old tales from the days when Brea and Mygeth were united, and he wondered whether those glory days described by the tales would ever be renewed. "The king believes that the way to do that," Asher continued, "is to reunite Brea and Mygeth. That's always been his dream."

"A dream your honored father shared," Venn reminded him.

"And I," Asher shook his head sadly, "He never saw it realized. The war in Mygeth got in the way, and it was because of precisely what is happening in Mygeth now: the balance of power has tipped to favor the Lawspeakers, and they have always been more... martial... towards Brea. Look at how they've always dealt with border infractions compared to King Callor. If King Callor's rule fails, it will be war all over again. I'm sure of it," Asher slammed his palm on the table in frustration, and then he paused and sighed, "And so is Callor."

Then I'd say it's all the more important that we have someone in Mygeth who knows how to negotiate, sire," Venn said, "And I can think of no one more qualified than Tyrnias Vandren. But he will need help, as you said, my liege."

"And that is why I need you, old friend," Asher said, "And don't even pretend it's not exactly what you want, you rogue. I can tell when you're bored with life in Advard, and your last letter to me was filled with expressions of boredom. For that matter," the king said with mock anger, "the fact that you wrote me at all tells me how bored you were. But I'll need some of the others, too. The other vassals will be arriving later today and tomorrow. If you'll excuse me, Venn, I hate to cut this short, but I need to see to King Callor's runner."

Venn stood and bowed politely at the king's dismissal. The king rang for Aureus, who promptly appeared to escort Venn to his suite in the palace. It was unnecessary; Venn knew his way very well and would likely go elsewhere in the palace first, but accommodating the thegns was expected of the king. Actually, Asher was somewhat annoyed with himself for not having more to say to Venn; however, as much as he wanted to sit and just talk, he did have pressing circumstances.

He returned to his private study and unrolled a sheet of parchment on his desk, confident now that he could write a suitable reply to Callor after having talked the matter out with Venn. As he finished his letter, he handed it to Aureus and told him to give it to the runner, and then he stepped back out onto the balcony. He looked out over the city and remembered the kingdom's tales of the elder days again. He wondered then whether the tales would admire him or loathe him.