The Four Gifts of the King Read online

  His stomach churned. This is not as it was meant to be.

  As he reached one end of the city, he turned his horse down a road that led them to a different part of Petitzaros. This, too, he had come to see.

  “C’mon, boy.” He patted his horse on the neck. “Let’s see the rest of this place.”

  As he rode, the customary, fine, brown paving stones ended, replaced by coarse, dusty gravel. These streets boasted no fine stores, palm trees, or bathhouses. Instead, there were simple houses, older stores with faded and tattered awnings, and a tiny, unkempt park where a few children played. Gone were the bright colors, lavish fountains, and street vendor carts overflowing with flowers, food, and trinkets. The air hung heavy with the smell of a place where people scraped and sweated to survive. The people here wore plain clothes—rags, really. They had no bands or gold rings. But they stood tall, and their faces were bright.

  The knight paused to take it in. How could such a place exist right next to the garish opulence of the rest of Petitzaros?

  The knight turned his steed back onto a main corridor, returning to the affluence of the city, with its streets filled with hunchbacked figures and their sad, gray faces squinting in the sun as they hurried from store to bathhouse to banquet hall.

  It’s as if they’re rushing to avoid the reality of their existence, hoping that the next experience will bring some happiness into their lives. This was far worse than he’d anticipated.

  As he made his journey through the streets, he sensed another presence. His horse reared up, and the knight fought to calm him. He peered at the shadowed corners and secluded alleyways.

  The Phaedra were there…lurking, watching. None of the scurrying people seemed to notice them. The Phaedra withdrew as he went by, and when he glanced back they reappeared behind him.

  He ran his hand along the hilt of his sword. Its time would come.

  He found his way to the entrance of the castle he sought. It was small compared to most other castles he had passed. The gatekeeper’s eyes widened as he approached, and the knight restrained a smile at the man’s alarm.

  “May I h-h-help you?” The gatekeeper’s eyes were fixed on the knight’s sword.

  “I am looking for a young man named Steward.”

  “Steward?” The gatekeeper looked around as if he had never heard of him. The warrior dismounted and took a step toward him.

  The man scrambled backward. “Steward? Oh, Steward! Yes, of course, you must mean Czarsteward. Yes, he lives here. This is his palace. Is…is he, uh…expecting you?”

  “No, not anymore. But I am here to see him nonetheless.”

  The gatekeeper wrung his hands and wrinkled his brow. “Oh, well, I see. I mean, I am not sure I do see, you see.”

  The warrior scowled down on the quivering man. “Is Steward here in this…palace?” His derogatory tone was not lost on the frightened doorman.

  “Why, yes, he is home. But if he is not expecting you I will need to go and ask if it is all right for you to be seen.”

  The knight drew his sword. “I’ll ask him myself.”

  He turned the hilt end forward and lunged past the gatekeeper, smashing into the doors. Wood sprayed everywhere, and the doors flew open. The knight turned to the gaping man. “It appears it’s all right for me to be seen.”

  The gatekeeper ran around a side passage and hurried out of sight. The knight walked into the courtyard and through to the main hall. He stopped to take in the surroundings. Marble pillars, heavy wood paneling, and thick tapestries.

  Pitiable. So gaudy, tawdry…and worthless.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps caught him.

  Ah. His quarry approach—

  He frowned. That can’t be Steward!

  “May I help you? What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  The knight looked the man over. His face had some of the same gray sadness he had seen in the people on the street, but it lacked the deep etching and vacuous eyes of so many others. He stood a little more erect than most, but then only a small number of gold rings were linked to each wrist. So few that they didn’t even touch the ground when his hands were at his sides.

  The knight smiled. There might still be time.

  “You are Steward of Aiden Glenn?”

  “No. Well, actually, yes, I guess I am. I have not heard that name in decades.”

  The warrior ignored the comment. “It has been five years since you entered Petitzaros. I have been sent by the king to ask why you are still here.”

  Steward started to respond then stopped.

  Dozens of Phaedra emerged out of the shadows. Their sheer number created a heavy tension in the room. Most kept their distance, but six came forward to stand at Steward’s side and face the knight.

  The first one stepped forward and offered a slight bow. “Good day to you, stranger. If your intent here is peaceful, then you are welcome.”

  The second joined him. “We are a peaceful people, and there is no need for swords or armor here.”

  A third spoke from behind them. “There is no battle to be fought here. We are a peaceful people.”

  Steward seemed to regain his composure. “Yes, of course. Please lay your sword aside. It must be heavy and cumbersome. There is no need for a fighting weapon in Petitzaros. And it does make some people nervous, as I am sure you can understand.”

  The knight drew closer to Steward. “I was sent by the king to ask why you are still in Petitzaros.”

  The Phaedra moved to encircle the knight.

  The first Phaedra confronted him, speaking now in a more authoritarian tone. “The king has no concern for what happens in Petitzaros. He has more important matters to attend to. He has left us to our own to prosper and take pleasure in the fruit of our work, which is according to his own good wishes.” He circled the knight, taking him in from all sides. “And you know that to be true, don’t you, good knight?”

  The knight ignored the Phaedra, his eyes locked on Steward. “Young Steward, you were sent on a journey to see the king. Why have you stopped here?”

  Another Phaedra started to reply, but Steward interrupted. “This is where I was supposed to stop. This is my destiny.” He raised his hands toward the ceiling, his rings clanking as he looked up at the ornamentation that filled the room. “This is the meaning of my name and the purpose for my life.”

  The warrior tensed. Anger washed over him. His hands clenched as he came to Steward. His tone was sharp. “Who told you this was your destiny? Who told you this was the meaning of your name?”

  Silence. All eyes fixed on Steward as he pondered the knight’s question. Then Steward turned and pointed toward the figures standing beside him. “They did.”

  Of course they did. When Steward turned back to him, the knight held his gaze. “Only the king can tell you the meaning of your name. And only in the throne room of the king will you learn your destiny.”

  Steward stood frozen and silent. Could this strange knight be telling the truth? Did he really know the king? Could the Phaedra have been wrong?

  A Phaedra moved closer and whispered to him, “Who is this knight that he knows the mind of the king?”

  A second Phaedra circled him. “How do you know he is even from the king? Perhaps it is a trap, Czarsteward, to lure you from this place.”

  A third Phaedra joined in. “Do not listen to him. He is a deceiver. His voice is darkness. Even his skin is blackness.”

  Then, in hushed whispers that grew in volume, all the Phaedra began to chant, “Liar, liar, liar.”

  The knight didn’t seem to care what the Phaedra said, although the chant forced him to raise his voice almost to a shout. “Steward, you were born for a reason. The journey does not stop here. Your destiny lies far beyond Petitzaros. You must leave with me at once.”

  The Phaedra closed rank around Steward. They spoke in turn, their voices sharp and accusatory.

  “Do not go with him.”

  “He will kill you.”

  “
He is not from the king.”

  “Throw him out, Czarsteward. Make him leave. You are only safe in Petitzaros.”

  Steward stared at the knight. Had the warrior come to kill him? Did he want Steward’s kingdom? How could Steward be sure the knight really knew the king?

  All around him the Phaedra kept up their chant: “Liar, liar, liar.”

  And then two of the Phaedra spoke, and their comments shot through Steward.

  “The king does not speak through darkness nor use blackness as his voice.”

  “This knight is from the Tohu Wa-Bohu.”

  There was a sudden, chilling silence. Energy, like an electrical shock, pulsated through the room. Everyone froze.

  Tohu Wa-Bohu. The forbidden name.

  That settled it. Steward met the knight’s hard gaze. “I will not go with you. Now leave my house at once. If you try to take me by force, I will fight you with all my strength.”

  The Phaedra entourage closed ranks around Steward. They each reached into the hidden folds of their robes and pulled out a short sword crafted with a unique series of curves that gave the weapons the appearance of glistening silver snakes.

  The knight stared back at Steward one last time, and with a powerful turn his chainmail coat swinging around him, he strode out of the room. As the sound of his heavy boots and clanging chainmail faded, Steward gave a sigh.

  The Phaedra sheathed their weapons. One drew close to Steward. “Well done, Czarsteward. Today you have fulfilled your destiny.”

  The moment he finished speaking, Steward felt a heaviness in his arms. He looked down to see that six new rings had appeared on his chain. For the first time, it was connected in one chain linking wrist to wrist. Steward smiled.

  This was surely his reward.

  He grasped the chain of rings in both hands and, with a great tug, flung it up over his shoulder. “Now I am truly Czarsteward.” He hunched his back to bear the weight of the new rings and shuffled out of the room.

  Behind him the Phaedra whispered, “Indeed you are, our young Steward. Indeed you are.”

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Reed paused and looked around the room. He raised his eyebrows. “Next chapter?”

  Alex waved to him. “Carry on.”

  chapter

  Nine

  Ashaft of sunlight worked its way along the floor and up onto the face of a sleeping Czarsteward. As he rolled over to avoid the brightness he could feel a weight tugging at his wrists. He sat up, pulling his arms out from underneath the comforter and examining his Bracelets. Then he counted his links.

  One, two, three.

  Four. FIVE.

  “Excellent!”

  His shout brought a servant into the room. “Is everything all right, sir?”

  “Oh yes, much more than all right.” He jumped out of bed and examined the chains in the sunlight. “Look at these new rings. They’re fantastic. I will surely receive more Elixir. You know what that means? Bigger parties, nicer clothes, and status…status, my little friend.”

  The servant nodded and shuffled over to straighten the sheets. “Today is the Feast of Nines. Is it not a good opportunity to display your new blessings?”

  Steward smiled in delight, rubbing his hands across his new rings. “Yes, I’d forgotten. Wonderful. I will get ready and leave at once.”

  Steward left for his walk to the banquet hall and strode along the path, bearing with joy the weight of the chain over his shoulder. With this larger chain, he could acquire more of the Elixir of Mah Manon, with which he could build a greater palace, throw more splendid banquets, and become more powerful and famous. This was a great day. Surely, this proved that his destiny was here in Petitzaros.

  As Steward passed an orchard, he heard a commotion just behind him. He looked back and his heart raced. Galloping out from the rows of apple trees was a huge figure driving his horse toward Steward at full speed. Steward screamed and began to run, but his heavy chains made each step a struggle. Before he could escape, the man grabbed him by the back of his robe and flung him up onto the back of the massive horse.

  “Hold on to my armor or you will be thrown off and killed!” shouted the rider. Steward looked, and the ground was passing underneath him at such speed that he grasped the armor of his kidnapper with both arms to keep himself on the back of the galloping horse.

  Steward looked up. To his horror, he recognized the armor and mail coat of the Black Knight. If he did not fall to his death from the horse, he would be killed by the sword that flapped alongside the great warrior, who drove them forward at breakneck speed through the streets of Petitzaros.

  “I will not harm you,” the knight shouted as they came to a sharp turn. “Now hold on tight!”

  Whatever fate awaited him at this journey’s end, being flung from a horse was not the way he wanted to die. So he held tightly as they rode through the city, out of the great gates, and up into the hill country. As the mighty horse climbed a steep path along the edge of a forest, it struggled for breath. The knight pulled the exhausted beast to a stop and jumped off. Steward jumped off as well and ran for the forest edge, but the knight caught him and pulled him to the ground.

  “Do not fear me, Steward. I will not harm you. I was sent to help you find your way to the king.”

  With that, he let Steward go, backing away.

  Steward examined his options. He couldn’t outrun the knight. Even in full chain mail, the man was far faster than he. Even if he could, the great black horse had enough left in him to run Steward down. Besides, they were miles from Petitzaros with only a forest on one side and a cliff on the other. And so, for better or worse, Steward was a captive.

  The knight pulled off his helmet and coat. His hair was black—as black as his horse’s mane. Steward thought of the warning about the Tohu Wa-Bohu.

  The knight turned and looked at Steward, examining his face. “You’re afraid of me because I am black.”

  Steward dropped his gaze then looked back up, his eyes fixed on his captor. “Are you really from the king? How can you prove that to me? Why should I believe you?”

  The knight sat down on a rock and stretched out his legs. He motioned to Steward to sit as well. As the knight rubbed his neck he began to speak.

  “Twenty-four years ago, I was sent by the king to a small village just beyond the edge of the upper kingdom. I was told that the village was to be the birthplace of an important man. I was never told what he was to accomplish or why the king was so interested in this man, but my mission was set, and I was not to fail at any cost. I rode to the village, dropping down into the lower kingdom and through the gray veil. There I met a young man grieving over his wife’s inability to have a child. As we spoke, I knew that this man’s wife was to be the mother of the promised one. So I pledged to him that the king would grant him a son if he and his wife would give him to the service of the king.”

  Steward’s chest pounded. He had all but forgotten the story handed down to him by his parents, just as he had forgotten about the journey. Could it be…? Was this the knight his father spoke of?

  The knight leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Steward’s. “The name of the village was Aiden Glenn. It was your father who received my promise. And every year I returned to be sure that your mother and father affirmed their pledge. Now do you believe I was sent by the king?”

  What could he say? No one else could have known that story, not in that detail. Steward jumped to his feet. “You…you are the knight? My parents never told me you were black.”

  “I don’t think it mattered to them.” The knight paused, and the comment hung in the air. The knight stood and came close to Steward. “Young Steward, the evil of the Tohu Wa-Bohu is not seen in color but in the difference between truth and deception. Watch for deception in any form or color.”

  Steward nodded but his mind was racing between faith and fear. He wanted to believe, but the Phaedra, the Bracelets, the castles…they all called to him. He stepped away to collect his thoughts.
He took off his coat and looked down at the chain that dragged on the ground and rubbed his wrists where they had become red and irritated under the increased burden of the six new rings. As he worked to get his coat off around the rings, the knight said, “I see you have new rings. That was a result of your rejection of my help.”

  Steward stopped and turned toward him. “Why was I blessed for refusing to go with you, if you are really from the king?”

  “Blessed?” The knight bellowed the word. “Why do you call the rings blessings?”

  “They’re gifts from the king for those who prosper in Petitzaros.” Steward refused to be intimidated.

  “Tell me, Steward, why do you have so few when you have been in Petitzaros for so long?”

  Steward shifted where he sat. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the most painful time during his five years in Petitzaros. But he knew the knight would press him, so he might as well get it over with. “Two years ago, I was among the most affluent of the younger men of Petitzaros. I had built a large palace, and my kingdom was growing daily. At one point I had so many rings I had to drape them over both shoulders. Oh, I was so very wealthy.” Steward sighed.

  “One day, I was on a hunt with five of my friends. Czartrevor led the party. We hunted farther out than we had ever gone, and as the hunt progressed we became separated in unfamiliar territory. I was close on the heels of the fox when my horse stumbled and threw me to the ground. I was stunned for a time, and when I woke a young woman the likes of whom I had never seen in all my years in Petitzaros was tending me. She wore plain clothes. She had no oil in her hair or makeup on her face. I saw too that she had a very different kind of bracelet on her wrist. It was not wide and ornate like ours, but very simple, small, and light—but gold nonetheless.”

  Steward stood and paced. “She was joined by others, and soon I learned that I was in the village of Remonant. I had been warned that there was such a village inhabited by a sect of crazy people who believed, among other things, that our gold rings were a curse and not a blessing. I learned from them that they used their Elixir of Mah Manon to be sure everyone had their needs met, but no more. If they had Elixir left over, they went to other villages and gave it to people who needed food or shelter or clothes. No one had a lot, but no one had a little either.”