Alanna wiped her sweating palms on her tunic, breathing heavily. Her story was coming to close--and she knew it.
Author's Note: There will be some briefly intense language in this chapter. You've been warned.
Chapter Thirteen
One Year Ago:
An hour after midnight a small boy crept through the back entrance to the inn called the Dancing Dove. He wore a black cloak, shielding him against the night, but it caused his purple eyes to stand out vividly.
The boy closed the door softly behind him, and slunk towards the back stair. He had put his foot on the bottom stair when he heard a drunken drawl from above.
"I'm tellin' you! It's what he said. I'd wager both me ears on it."
Someone snorted, replying, "Yer ears are too small t'be worth nothin'. 'Sides, who'd want 'em? What with his Majesty bein' gone."
"Watch who you talk about," the other warned. "Just because that old fella Cooper's gone don't mean nothin'! There's always a Majesty, and always will be. But like I was sayin', the man said that. And I'm still bettin' me ears on it."
The violet-eyed boy took a step back into the shadows as the top stair creaked. "'Right ye are. I believe what ye say, but I'm firm that yer ears aren't worth anything to his new Majesty. And who exactly is this man you're talking about?"
"Now you mention it, I dunno." The stairs creaked as the two descended. When they came to the level the boy was on they stopped, whispering intently. But they didn't notice the boy in the shadows. "He said if we needed to ask him any questions we could ask the Duke of Conté, at the palace."
"The Duke?" the other yelped, his eyes growing wide.
The boy moved a little further into the shadows, staring intently at the men. But he couldn't make out more than their expressions in the gloom.
"That's what he said. Said the Duke'd know how to contact him."
"I'm not desperate enough to talk to that man. They say he's mad--the Duke of Conté. Ye should know the tales!"
"Not yet--but soon."
The two moved off into the crowded inn, leaving the boy alone. He breathed out and hurried up the stairs.
Trying to ignore what he'd heard, he moved along the doors, reading the numbers on them. Reaching the one he was looking for, he knocked twice, paused, and knocked three more times. After finishing an elaborate sequence the door opened a crack.
"Who goes there?" a common-born demanded.
"It's me, Marek. Just let me in, we need to talk."
Marek Swiftknife nodded, opening the door and letting the youth in. He reached for flint to light a branch of candles on the ledge over the fireplace, but the young man had already lit it with violet fire from his fingers.
The room was lit up, and Marek was cast into full relief. It was only the boy's years of training that kept him from cringing at the naked man standing before him. The boy threw his hood off, revealing a cropped head full of copper-colored hair.
"Alan of Trebond," Marek breathed, sitting down on his bed. "And to what do I have to honor this visit at this late hour?"
The boy called Alan of Trebond smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I would have thought all the lower city's riffraff would be up and about at this hour. No? Well I'm up, and I'm ready for adventure."
Marek sniffed. "Get to the point, lad. Why're you here?"
"Tomorrow--today actually--is Prince Jonathan's birthday. I wanted it to be special for him."
"And I'm t'believe that Johnny is the Prince?"
The boy nodded. "Haven't we been over this before?"
Marek sighed. "You expect me to believe that Johnny is Prince Jonathan, you're a girl named Alanna, and all that other bull?"
Nodding the youth pulled a dagger from his--or was it hers?--weapons belt, fingering it thoughtfully. "Alanna's the name alright, Marek. It didn't take George this long to figure it out."
Marek pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. "But--what about your chest? Swimmin'? How did you do any of it? And I still don't believe you."
"Would you like me to take my shirt off?"
"As a matter-of-fact--"
The youth rolled violet eyes at him. "Well I won't. I don't need you getting ideas. Now, will you help me with Jon's birthday or not?"
"Alright!" Marek cried, exasperated. "I'll pretend you're a girl named Alanna, if it's what you really want. And I'll help you with Johnny's birthday. Okay?"
"Excellent."
The red-haired youth smiled grimly as she snuck into her room. With a sigh, Alanna of Trebond flung the cloak aside and fell onto her bed. It was only a moment later that there was a knock on the door, and the eighteen-year-old squire got up and opened the door connecting her room to Jonathan of Conté's--her knight master's.
She opened the door with a sigh, and pulled Jonathan through. The black-haired, blue-eyed Prince smiled at her, his eyes sparkling lightly.
"I still can't believe you made a deal with Her," Alanna confessed, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. "It doesn't seem right to do what a Goddess says. It's. . . it's wrong."
Jonathan sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "I know that it's wrong. But, Alanna, believe me, I didn't do it for my eyesight. I did it for you--because she said she'd tell everyone who you were if I didn't."
"You don't have to sleep with the Dark Goddess for me." Alanna felt her heart leap at how far he was willing to go for her though.
"Oh yes I do," Jon told her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her thoroughly. "Because I love you."
Alanna squirmed in his grip, feeling uneasy. "What's wrong?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her face.
So she told him what she had heard the men at the Dancing Dove saying. When she was done, Jon frowned.
"May I ask what you were doing at the Dancing Dove at one in the morning?"
"What're you doing up at three in the morning?" Alanna shot back, avoiding his question.
Jon shrugged. "I guess you have a point. And she was coming for her nightly payment." He grimaced, staring down at his hands. "It still hurts," he added. "It has ever since that. . . dream."
Alanna shuddered, touching his shoulder softly. "Jon--you don't have to feel this way, not on your birthday. We don't have to make love if it hurts that much."
Jon smirked, grabbing her hand off his shoulder and kissing it like he would a Court Lady's. "But I know how horribly upset you'd be."
Alanna tried to shield a smirk, but failed miserably. She sat heavily down on the bed, squeezing Jon's hand tightly. She wasn't in a good mood now. "I'm worried," she confessed. "About what the two at the Dancing Dove said. I don't know who they were talking about, or what he said, but it's got something to do with Roger."
Jonathan hid his own sigh, sitting down next to her. He had long since decided to listen to what she said about his cousin, no matter how much it hurt. The way Alanna feared Roger had made Jon think, and he didn't want something to go wrong because of him--so he listened.
Alanna drew breath to go on, but Jonathan swooped in, stealing his chance.
Before Alanna realized it, Jon's mouth was touching hers softly, and his hands were in her hair, playing with it absently. She heaved an inward sigh, then kissed her Prince back.
The two were sprawled across the bed, unclothed, when there was a knock on the door.
Alanna shoved Jonathan off her, cursing like Coram and the other guards-men that had taught her. "Shit," she muttered again, pulling her overlarge night-shirt on over her loincloth.
Beside her Jonathan was shoving his arms into his tunic and pulling his breeches on. Alanna got up, heading for the door. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, to see Jon leaning against the wall, flipping absently through one of her books.
Glancing down to make sure her shirt covered everything, Alanna opened the door.
"Squire Alan of Trebond, their Royal Majesties wish to see you at once in King Roald's private study--please bring his Royal Highness with you," a panting messenger said, before darting off down the hall.
Alanna stared after him, her mouth opened slightly in confusion. She glanced over her shoulder at Jon, who shrugged, tossed Alanna, her breeches, and set off down the hall.
Still star-struck, Alanna clambered into her breeches, grabbed a sleeping Faithful off her bed, and ran down the hall after Jon, the cat meowing angrily the whole way.
When she caught up to the Prince he was frowning deeply. "Why do my parents want to see us?" Jon asked, stroking Faithful absently. The cat purred, rubbing his face against Jon's hand.
"I was wondering the same thing," Alanna murmured.
When the two arrived outside King Roald's private study, Alanna waited a few steps behind Jon as he knocked.
Ow, Faithful snapped, biting down softly on her wrist. You're clutching me.
"Sorry," Alanna whispered, trying to loosen her sweating hold on the cat.
The door opened and Jonathan went in, beckoning for Alanna to follow. They stepped inside. Alanna's stomach turned over.
Faithful leapt from her arms, hissing madly, his fur bristling. There was blood everywhere, covering the ancient scrolls that the King himself studied. Lying on one of the chairs was Queen Lianne, wearing a pale pink dressing gown spattered with red liquid. There was a long, but shallow, gash in her left arm, another on her cheek, and a third cut through her robes.
On the floor was Duke Gareth of Naxen, blood smeared all over him, a sword in his hand. Alanna glanced at Faithful, who was hissing wildly at Duke Roger, who was staring with horror at the scene before him. There was also Gary, his face paler than a sheet of paper, leaning shamelessly on a serving girl who could barely hold him up.
Alanna rushed to her friend's side, gripping his arm and letting him lean on her. The serving girl crawled out from under his weight, murmuring thanks to Alanna.
Jonathan knelt over his mother, talking quietly with her. The King was leaning against a bookshelf, his eyes wide.
Alanna licked her lips, adjusting under Gary's immense bulk a little bit.
"Roger, please," the king breathed. "Show the evidence to the Prince and Squire Alan. It's best that we're all versed in what happened--to the greatest degree we can be." The king turned to Alanna. "Can you help Duke Gareth?"
Cold sweat broke out on Alanna's hands and forehead. So this was why they wanted her. She looked worriedly up at Gary. He offered her what looked like it was meant to have been a smile. "I'll manage Fire-Top," he whispered, clutching the back of a chair.
Shaking, Alanna let Gary go, moving slowly to the center of the bloodied room. She knelt next to Duke Gareth, trying to smile at him. He laughed, but it sounded like a dog's bark more than anything. "I know my time is up, Alan. Do what you can to ease the pain--alright? That's all I ask." He grimaced, letting the sword fall from his hand. "I've done my duty. I stopped the killer from getting the King and Queen. He took me instead. It was my duty."
Cursing inwardly, Alanna knelt down in the blood, moving the Duke's sword aside. She touched his temples with her fingers, sending a violet probe deep into him.
Alanna pulled back, breathing heavily, sweating visibly. The damage was horrible. It wasn't the wounds that were killing him, it was magic. She touched the ember-stone, and the Duke lit up with yellow magic, shimmering wildly. The whole room lit up with the stuff, only Roger retained a normal color--he didn't even glow orange.
Alanna swallowed. "Everyone, get out," she ordered, shakily rising to her feet. "There's magic in here--loads of it. It'll poison us all if we stay."
If it was possible, the king turned paler. No one moved. "You heard him!" the King bellowed at last. "Let's get out of here--now!"
The others fled, Jonathan carrying his mother out. Alanna stayed, kneeling down beside Duke Gareth. She saw Roger watching her before he left.
"Wait," the Duke rasped, gripping Alanna's hand. "Let me talk to my son."
Testing the magic in the air, Alanna nodded, realizing that for the moment they were okay. She turned to call Gary in, but realized that he had never left, and was already standing next to her, kneeling down beside his father.
Duke Gareth gripped Gary's hand, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry I'm leaving, son," he said softly. "I wish I could say 'take care of your mother', but I've just received news that she caught the flu passing through. She's dead, Gary." He shuddered. "You'll do great. It was my greatest wish to see you become a knight, and you've done it. Now all that's left is you have to take a wife and start a family. I'm sure you'll do good. And with friends like Alan and Raoul--your cousin, Jon, even Alex--" Alanna stiffened but said nothing-- "I know you'll do well. Naxen is left to you son--use it well." He turned to Alanna. "Please, I see the way you look. I know you can do nothing. Can you ease the pain though?"
Alanna swallowed and nodded. She put her fingers to his temples, letting her magic flow into him. He sighed as the pain was washed away. "Please, my sword." Gary handed his father his sword, and the Duke clasped it in both hands, letting it rest across the length of his body. "Goodbye, Gareth."
Then the Duke closed his eyes, and his chest stopped moving. Alanna stared, stunned. She turned to her friend, and was shocked to see that Gary, the usually strong and upheld Gary, was crying. She touched her friend's arm, helping him to his feet.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do anything, Gary," Alanna whispered, squeezing his arm and blinking away her own tears.
"It's not your fault. But. . . Alanna--? Thank you. You let him go in peace--I know that's what he wanted. He would have wanted to die protecting the Royal Family. And he died without the pain too." Gary blinked another tear away, and hugged Alanna tightly, then followed her out into the hall where the others were waiting.
Roger was twirling a dagger between his fingers, talking quietly to Jon. The Prince was staring with rapt attention at the silver dagger, flicking in circles. Alanna circled warily, watching it. She felt herself growing drowsy, and darted in, grabbing the dagger from the Duke before he knew what had happened.
"Is this the blade?" she asked, running her hand over the blade and sensing the magic in it. It was weakly hidden--obviously they hadn't thought she would be around. She touched the ember-stone--it glowed yellow.
"Yes, it killed the Duke and attacked the Queen," Roger said slowly, blinking a few times. He was clearly startled that she had taken the blade so easily from him. Jon peered at it over her shoulder.
"Do you know a sorcerer with yellow magic?" Alanna asked, handing the dagger to Jon and meeting Roger's blue eyes.
The Duke nodded, looking grim. "Yes. But--how do you know that the magic was yellow?"
"Never mind that! Who is he? Or she. Whoever it is laid magic in the study, and on this dagger."
"His name is Nicholas Coal. He's a friend from the city. I worked a few spells with him once."
Alanna felt something nagging at her mind, and touched the ember-stone absently. Orange fire lit up Roger, the dagger, the Prince, and herself. She swallowed.
Something black launched itself from nowhere, clinging to the Duke's face. Faithful, hissing and spitting, knocked the Duke into the wall, and the magic vanished. Alanna breathed out--Faithful had saved them.
"Get this infernal cat off of me!" Roger howled, struggling with Faithful.
Alanna pried Faithful off of Roger, hissing coldly at him. "Don't stay once your job is done--it's suspicious," she hissed, walking back to the others with her cat.
"Thank you, Alan. You have eased Duke Gareth's passing." Alanna stopped walking, staring at the King. "It is late, you should return to your bed now. Someone will inform you of the funeral in the morning."
"Yes, sire," Alanna bowed, setting her worries aside for later. She put Faithful onto his favorite perch--her left shoulder--and left everyone behind, trying not to fret. "Later," she told her cat as he began to speak.
Please review! Comments and criticism welcomed! We're coming to the end--of the past that is. What happens in the present? You'll find out in a few chapters, probably, not quite sure. R-E-V-I-E-W! As for those of you who review every chapter--love ya! As for those who review occasionally, glad you care! As for those of you who never review but read anyways, hope you like it! Another thanks to tortallanrider and elven cats eyes and cheeseycraziness for being just plain old awesome and supportive!