Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Read online

Reynolt frowned, “You’ve had other news, My King?”

  Remiel stood, clasping his hands behind his back, he began to pace behind his desk.

  “Two weeks ago, one of my investigators turned up some troubling news regarding the baroness and her cousin, Vedra Renmoth.” As the king spoke, Reynolt listened intently, keeping his eyes on Remiel.

  “I thought it more maneuvering on Calistra’s part; she’s always hungered for power, and a way to break away from the Realm’s rule…MY rule.

  “Something gave me pause, however, so I sent the Darkcloak to look in on her.”

  The young wizard nodded; the king’s Shadow was well known, and well respected in the wizard community. Jericho Darkcloak had been tapped by the lord mages on occasion as well.

  “He found disturbing entries in her diary, talk of the ‘coming battle’ and ‘powerful friends with reason to go against the king’.

  “I sent messengers to the palace at Galloway, to inform my cousin Günter of a possible plot, but it wasn’t until the smuggler captain came with news of Lady Renmoth seeking to buy passage to the city that I felt the need to take more action.

  “I dispatched the Darkcloak to travel with her, disguised as one of the crew. They should have reached the city by now.

  “In fact, I’m expecting a communiqué from Jericho this evening.”

  Reynolt thought for a moment, trying to piece a possible plot together from the disparate pieces. He came up short.

  “That’s not all,” the king continued, “I’ve had a pigeon from my nephew at Vizerburg. He didn’t mention any details, as he said an envoy was on the way, but it seems the goblins have breached eastern border at the Holdwalls.”

  Reynolt blanched, “Goblins invading the Realm? How long has it been, five hundred years or more? What do you think it means?”

  Before the king could answer, Queen Mirabelle entered, followed by a train of servants with food-laden trays of sliver.

  She was resplendent in a white gown, with pearls sewn into the bodice in a floral pattern. It was cut modestly, with her shoulders and breast lined with white fur. Her raven hair was caught up in a wide clip of mother-of-pearl, allowing full view of her ivory neck and diamond earrings.

  While just over fifty years of age, her hair showed no gray, and her porcelain features were only enhanced by faint lines around her eyes.

  She smiled warmly, “Reynolt. A pleasure, as always.”

  She glided toward him, extending a hand gloved in silk past the elbow. The young wizard stood to meet her, smiling as he bowed to kiss her knuckles.

  “Your radiance pierces the heart, as usual, My Queen,” he straightened.

  Despite his smiling demeanor, Mirabelle immediately picked up on the changes his mission had wrought. Her eyebrows came together in concern.

  “Something has happened,” she said, caressing his face. She looked past him to the king and caught Remiel’s grim nod. Turning her warm brown eyes back to Reynolt, she gently patted his cheek.

  “You can tell me about it over dinner.”

  Reynolt nodded, and ushered her to a plush seat near one of the tables that was being laid out for supper. He helped her sit, and turned back to the king, who was speaking quietly to Calvert.

  He had taken only a single step when the door burst open and a flush man in the livery of the castle guard stepped in.

  “Your Highness,” the man nearly shouted. He caught sight of the queen and his flush deepened. He seemed to regain some composure and bowed quickly, “Beggin’ your pardon, my queen.”

  She waved his embarrassment away, while the king strode forward, “What is it, Hemford,” he asked.

  The guard took a breath, “There’s a…a ship, Your Highness. It’s ahh, a flying ship.” The man looked embarrassed all over again.

  “A flying ship? Here?” the king looked to Reynolt, who started toward them, nodding to the king.

  “It would be Osric Glenshadow, out of Vizerburg, Your Highness. He had come to the lord mages months ago with plans for a flying craft. I didn’t think it would work, actually…”

  Hemford seemed like he had walked into a dream. He tried to hang on to reality enough to relay his message.

  “The ship is coming over the walls, My King. It hopes to land, but…” he seemed unsure of adding to the absurdity.

  The king put an arm around him, guiding him out the door, Reynolt and the queen trailing.

  “Take a breath, Hemford. ‘But’ what?”

  “There are elves on the ship, Your Highness,” he said.

  Remiel looked back to his companions, frowning. They strode through the Throne Room and headed through the castle halls to the courtyard.

  They emerged on a balcony that the king and queen often used to address crowds. Hanging in the air not fifty feet from them, was Osric’s flying ship.

  It had sprouted a few arrows from the hull, and the figures onboard had taken cover. Below, and along the walls of the courtyard, archers and spearmen were covering the vessel.

  The king’s general and commander of the guard, Lord Tavister Kell, was standing on the cobblestones, shouting for his men to cease fire. As he turned, he caught site of the party on the balcony.

  “Your Highness,” he shouted. “They just approached from the east, no colors and no warning. There appears to be no siege weaponry aboard…” he glanced again at the ship, still and silent in the air.

  The king held out his hand, “At ease, men!”

  The soldiers lowered their weapons at the strong word of their liege. A few of the figures on the deck of the craft straightened.

  “Who goes there,” called Remiel, in a voice that would brook nothing but obedience.

  A bearded man in silvery mail approached the gunnels and held up his hand in salute.

  “Orin Hade, Your Highness - corporal in your army, stationed out of Kelleran’s Folly.

  “I’ve come with dire tidings, I’m afraid.”

  He turned and motioned to one of the others. A radiant woman, dressed in alien armor and armed with eldritch weapons stepped to his side. Hade then addressed the royals once again.

  “I’ve brought the princess of the elves.”

  For the first time in anyone’s recollection, the king gaped.

  Twenty minutes later the solar was filled to capacity. Introductions had been made, and the air was filled with chatter. Finally, the king was forced to hold up his hands as he called for silence.

  “Please, everyone, be calm.” He looked to the queen who nodded.

  “You there, Ms. Willow, isn’t it? Would you mind helping me?” She gestured to the apprentices and then to the food.

  Ms. Willow, ever sharp, bobbed a curtsey and grabbed her two companions by the arm. The three of them helped to serve food, while the king, Tavister Kell, Hade, Ethelrynne, and Reynolt moved to the king’s desk. The princess nodded to her rangers, and they took seats obediently.

  Ethelrynne smiled at Hade as he offered her a seat. He then stood beside her as the others took to chairs.

  “Princess,” the king began, “Let me express my genuine pleasure and surprise at meeting you. We have not had any elves in the castle for generations”

  Ethelrynne inclined her head toward him, “Thank you, Your Highness. Your hospitality is most welcome.”

  “I hope you will forgive my troops, it’s not often that a flying ship clears the walls.”

  She took an offered glass of mead and took a sip. She offered a tiny smile to Remiel,

  “It’s understandable, Your Highness. Your men did their jobs. I’m happy that it has turned out well.”

  He nodded, returning the smile, “Excellent. You know, I spoke to your father once, just after my coronation. He is of singular character.”

  Hade dropped a hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense at the intended compliment. She let out a quick breath.

  “Yes, well,” she said, “I’ll be sure and deliver your regards.”

  The others looked back and forth at the odd
response, before Hade cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Hade, of course,” Remiel said, “Fill us in on this news that’s brought you so far so fantastically.”

  “My King,” he began somberly, “Kelleran’s Folly has been overtaken.”

  There was a gasp from Reynolt as the king’s expression darkened.

  “Goblins,” the soldier went on, plunging ahead before his courage failed him, “Thousands upon thousands of blackbloods stormed the Holdwalls at the Hammerfist. I…was the sole survivor of my patrol.”

  He seemed about to say more, but held his tongue. Ethelrynne reached up and placed her hand reassuringly over his.

  “I still can’t believe I’m hearing correctly.” This was from an incredulous Reynolt.

  Tavister held his tongue, though he was obviously curious. The king held up his hand, silencing the wizard.

  “What else, Corporal? How did you come to be in the company of elves?”

  Taking a deep breath, Hade soldiered on, “We were chased down the mountain trails, and I was the last. I hid in the ruins of an old watchtower, and the horde passed me in the night. By the time I’d made the ravine, the fort was being breached while the town bled.”

  He made sure and hold the king’s eyes, “I’ve been patrolling the Holdwalls for almost twenty years, Your Highness, and I’ve never seen anything like this. There were trolls and giants among them, and the discipline they showed was beyond even our tall tales.

  “There’s something else,” said, remembering. He produced a rag from his pocket and spread it out on the desk. Emblazoned upon the gray fabric was the stylized skull icon that all the goblins had worn. Everyone leaned in to have a look.

  “They all bore this glyph on their clothing.”

  Tavister let out a low whistle. He reached over and slid the scrap closer to the king as he looked over the man’s shoulder.

  “That’s new to me, My King,” he said.

  “I’ve never heard of blackbloods wearing uniforms.”

  The Remiel rubbed his chin. Something about the symbol stirred a vague disquiet in him. It was familiar, but hovered at the edge of his memory.

  “Your Highness,” Ethelrynne said, causing the two men to look up.

  “I’m sad to say that our scouts had reported increased goblinoid activity leading up to this invasion, but my father,” she emphasized the word with mild annoyance, “thought it would be more trouble than it could be worth to send a delegation to meet with you.”

  The silence that followed was telling. The princess had the grace to look chagrined.

  “The princess took it upon herself to come to the fort,” Hade interjected. “She and her rangers came upon me as I…as I fled from the sacking of the fort.” He reddened at the admission of his desertion.

  Tavister waved away the self-recrimination, “You couldn’t have saved the fort by yourself, Corporal. You did the right thing.”

  The king nodded, “Indeed. Your meeting with the princess may prove to be a great boon as we look at how best to address this crisis.”

  “Her team aided in defending the town of Ormery from a raiding party. She lost one of her men there.” Hade said.

  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss, Princess,” the king said, not unkindly. She nodded her thanks.

  “We met the wizard, Osric Glenshadow there. He actually saved us from some trolls,” Hade went on.

  “He volunteered to stay behind and help the people evacuate, and told us how to contact his apprentices in Vizerburg.

  “We met with the baron, and then Osric’s students who showed us the flying ship. That was two days ago.”

  Reynolt looked impressed, “Old Osric was a bit eccentric, but I can see I was wrong about his designs!”

  A chime sounded from the massive grandfather clock near the eastern hearth, and the king stood.

  “This is indeed grave news,” he said, “and we shall discuss it further.

  “Unfortunately, I have another matter to attend to. Please, enjoy the meal. I shall return as soon as I am able.”

  With that he took his leave of them, Calvert in tow.

  The others fell into animated discussion. Tavister had plenty of thoughts on how to organize the defense of the east. He was concerned about the logistics, as the bulk of the army was fighting off mutant incursions to the south.

  “We’re going to need more men,” he said, thoughtfully, “We’re also going to need officers with experience dealing with blackbloods.” He looked sharply at Hade.

  “I’d like you to help with the planning, Corporal. You’ll need to join us in the war room when the king returns.”

  Hade straightened reflexively at the man’s military tone, “Absolutely, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

  Tavister nodded, “Good. First, take your dinner and have some time to relax. Things are going to start moving fast around here, and you’ll be glad you did.”

  With that, the big man excused himself and quit the solar. Ethelrynne looked at Hade with a smile.

  “I smell a promotion, Corporal,” she teased. Reynolt and the princess rose to walk with him toward the food.

  “Just what I need,” he replied in mock indignation.

  “I finally get away from the blackbloods and now they’ll send me back at ‘em…this time at the front of the line!”

  Chapter 24

  The roar of the crowd was an uncomfortable backdrop for those who wished to be heard in the Pit and Pickerel. The inn, which was little more than a fighting pit and gambling den on the nasty end of the docks, was a favorite of smugglers, pirates, thieves, and racketeers.

  It was a place that Wielder Duln knew well.

  He’d gotten a note with the first shipment of supplies to their warehouse hideout, and had cooked up an excuse to get away for the evening; something about scouting the watch routines. Calistra had bought it, she had no reason not to, and here he was.

  Back in the days of his youth, he had frequented places like this all over Galloway, working his way through the ranks of a gang known as the Night Thorns. They were a ragtag group, low on the totem pole of organized crime, and always spoiling for a fight. Duln had been an exemplar of the mindset, big for his age, rough-and-tumble, and sharper than your average street knife.

  It hadn’t taken him long to attract the attention of the Old Badger. A near-mythical figure in the city’s underworld, the man ran the Pinnacle, a mob that specialized in working the noble quarter near the palace. Some said they even had men placed among the baron’s household, but it was all hearsay.

  The Badger, though, he was real enough. He had a reputation for cruelty and some said he possessed a tendency to be casually homicidal. He was a stocky man of indeterminable age, with salt and pepper hair, and a bushy gray beard shot through with streaks of black. It was the beard, along with the man’s reputation, that had earned him the moniker.

  Wielder had made an impression on the man, especially after an operation went bad and rather than blame it on the crew he was with, Duln had taken responsibility himself.

  When asked why he didn’t make an excuse, the young rake had simply said, “You want the glory, you gotta take the lumps.”

  And he had. More than a few scars made their appearance that night, as the Badger had worked him over. When it was done, the crime boss had sent him on his way with instructions to return after he’d mended.

  Surprised that he hadn’t been chopped into fish bait, Wielder had come back two days later and gone to work.

  Years passed, and the Badger came to trust Duln. He saw in the younger man a sense of honor that so many of his minions lacked. It was during one particular drinking binge that the Old Badger had confided his deepest secret to Wielder; he was a plant.

  The Pinnacle didn’t have men placed among the baron’s staff, the baron had men placed among the gang. The most important of these men, of course, was the Badger himself.

  Duln had reeled. He never suspected even a hint of the old man being on the straight and
narrow, and it rocked his world.

  He’d spent a night wandering the street, tangling with anyone who dared get in his way, wondering whether he should be thinking of ways to assassinate the Badger, or if he was actually relieved that he might have a chance at a legitimate life.

  In the end, he’d returned, and a sober Badger had sat down with him to hash things out. They talked about what it all meant, and how the Badger believed that he was doing more good as the head of one of the toughest crime organizations in the city, than he could as a watchman.

  It caused a sea change in the younger man’s thinking. He’d always believed that society was beyond saving, and that feasting on the festering corpse of civilization was the only way to get through life without losing his mind. He’d been orphaned at a young age by a robbery gone bad and it colored his outlook.

  He truly believed that, even though he yearned for a life of integrity, that such a life was an illusion. Now he was being shown how ironic that outlook had been.

  The Old Badger had been relieved that Duln chose to stay and work with him to make a difference for people on the street. Wielder had become his right hand man, his ‘chain man’, so called because together they projected the image that the Badger kept him on a tight chain, and when he let Duln loose, somebody died.

  Years had passed this way, and Wielder had found some meaning in his existence. They were making life a little better for the poor folk of the city, while keeping the truly heinous elements off of the street. Things had been going so well, they hadn’t seen the betrayal coming.

  One of the other men under the Baron’s command in the Pinnacle had chosen to turn his back on his patron. The money finally got to him, and he decided to out the Badger as a plant. The only saving grace for the old man had been the warning of a hooker that had paid attention when the man talked in his sleep.

  Wielder and the old man had hashed out plans to deal with the coup, and had settled on a solution that would ensure the survival of the Old Badger’s position, but which left a bitter taste in his mouth just the same.

  Duln murdered the man, and set it up to look as though he had been confronted about his loyalty to the group. He left enough clues to incriminate himself, before fleeing the gang’s hideout.