Evil betas
Apr. 7th, 2005 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrTHREE HOURS it took me to make all of Ki-chan's corrections (and a few of my own). Ye gods, if someone points out a flaw in this story that I and two betas missed, I will weep.
It's 33 pages, so it's getting posted in three chunks. I like it, my betas like it, here's to hoping it meets with the approval of the audience ^_~
"You needed to see me, Majesty?" Trey gave Bran a brief, puzzled look as he rose from his short bow. It was unlike Bran to conduct business during festivities, which were rare as they still worked tirelessly to restore the kingdom that had been ruled by mayhem for more than five years. It was odder still that Bran was conducting business in his private quarters, and had been almost since the Spring Fair had begun that day.
"None of that," Bran dismissed the formality with a gesture. "You are, I am told, well acquainted with Lord Montaine of Bellewood?" He indicated the man in the chair across from him. The man was tall and skinny, age having robbed him of the massive build he'd once possessed. His gray hair still contained strands of strawberry blonde, the wrinkles in his face relating the active, happy life he had led.
"Of course," Trey sketched a bow to the thin, gray and haunted looking man. "I have known him since I was lad." He paused, "Your children, too sir, I have known for many years. I was surprised you did not bring them with you." Trey's thoughts flitted to Montaine's absent children, a girl with strawberry blond hair like her father's had once been, and his same blue-green eyes. She had always been smiling, and loved to dance - always insisting Trey dance with her, though he refused to dance with anyone else. But it was the youngest, Montaine's son, on which his thoughts lingered longest, a young man who was the spitting image of his deceased mother. Midnight curls and pale skin, he spoke quietly and smiled softly, until he spoke of magic or roses. Then he turned all fire.
More than once, in later years, Trey had wondered what it would be like to stoke those fires. But guilt had kept him from trying - the boy was six years his junior. Even had that not been a problem, there was the fact that he was the son of a prosperous and well-respected lord. Heir to the Bellewood name and lands, it was hardly suitable that he take up with a nameless, landless knight - even one who had won the favor of two kings.
Guilt, among other things.
Bran nodded, looking pleased at his observation. "They are unable to come, Trey. Their absence is the reason I called for you."
"Bran…" Trey was confused. "Come to your point. You know my dislike for riddles. Did you want me to deduce why Dunstan and Beatrice are missing? Even a year after your taking the throne, the lands are not entirely safe. Dunstan has not visited the palace since Vladimir took over - I presumed they had been sent away for protection."
Beside Bran, a man with dusky skin and gold eyes chuckled softly. "So impatient, my Lord of Mistdale."
"What be the problem, Dragon?" Trey asked irritably.
"Sit, Trey." Bran motioned his Captain to a seat. "This is a tale that will take some time to tell."
Trey obeyed, shooting another glare at Topaz, who was snickering softly at him.
"Topaz, if you please?" Bran looked at the dragon. "I still do not have a firm grasp of the magic the people here take for granted. The explanation will make more sense coming from you."
"Of course," Topaz assented, smiling fondly at the king. He turned serious and addressed Trey. "Lord Montaine has long protected our coastline from pirates and other threats. This you know. He does so with both steel and magic - magic that is probably the most superior in the land."
Montaine nodded. "The magic skipped me, but it showed up strongly in my son. My father believed the boy would surpass him, some day. We…we never imagined it would be his downfall…"
"His downfall?" Trey repeated, horrified. Something in his chest twisted and began to ache. "Is Dunstan…"
"He is not dead," Topaz hastened to explain. "Not yet, anyway. Lord Montaine takes great risk, coming to us with his problem."
Montaine let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I had no choice. If I am to save him, I must risk us all. Gods forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive," Bran said forcefully. He turned to Trey, "His son has been cursed. I do not understand it much, except that he is not dead though that was the intent of the curse."
Trey frowned. "That does not happen. Curses are illegal because they are killing magic."
Topaz explained. "Vladimir, unbeknownst to any at the capital, had made arrangements with mercenaries to help in his takeover - an outside threat that the crown and his council would not expect. But to get into the country they first had to get by the magic set down by the Bellewood Mages. The only northern access was through the open stretch guarded by the Bellewood. All the rest was jagged cliff and sharp rocks hidden in the waves, to tear apart the boats that got too close.
"They killed Montaine's father. But something went wrong when they attempted to kill Dunstan. Rather than killing him, the curse turned him to stone - and somehow it also managed to freeze the protections set along the coast and the Bellewood lands. The majority of the mercenaries were unable to get past the barriers."
Silence fell as Topaz finished explaining.
"He was turned to stone?" Trey asked in disbelief. "I have never heard of such a thing, save in children's tales."
"It is rather strange, is it not?" Topaz asked. "Under any other circumstance I would say it is fascinating. Sadly the situation is too grim for us to regard it so lightly."
"But it has been a year since Vladimir's death. Why is all of this coming up only now? Surely the mercenaries have long since given up and retreated."
Montaine shook his head, "Most did leave; they had no choice. But there are more that want the money they feel they were cheated out of by both my son's strange evasion of the curse and Vladimir's death. They are waiting for the spell that keeps the curse from killing him to fade."
"Why not simply kill them?"
"Because otherwise they will kill my daughter," Montaine said hoarsely. "If their lives even once appear to be threatened, they will finish the curse they have begun with her. I risk her life even by coming here with my problem."
Trey shook his head, overwhelmed by the explanations. "So your son is not dead because a spell kept the curse from killing him. He has been turned to stone, and the mercenaries wait for that spell to fade, that they might exact their revenge? And to keep you from doing away with them, they have placed a partial curse on your daughter? Why not simply kill you all now? It makes no sense that they would merely bide their time waiting for one man to die."
Montaine sighed. "Because they cannot kill all of us while my son is bespelled. I told you that the protections cast were frozen with him. One of those protections dampens magic - the mercenaries are not magically strong enough to curse all of us, and they do not have enough numbers to use weapons. We are at an impasse. If we attack them, they kill my daughter. If they attack us, we will kill them before they can get free. So we wait for the spell to fade and free my son. The longer he remains as stone, the longer we have to live. When the spell fades, we are either doomed or saved, depending on what happens when he wakes.
For several minutes Trey was silent, mulling over all that he had been told. "One thing still does not make sense to me. Well, more than one but we will settle on just one question for the time being."
"Ask all the questions you like," Montaine insisted.
"Why not simply smash the stone?" he saw the others wince and shrugged defensively. "It is a legitimate question. Break the statue that Dunstan has become and he is effectively dead, freeing you all from the constraints of the unexpected spell."
Montaine nodded, though he had grown paler. "We cannot reach him. I do not think, Sir Trey, that you fully understand just what has occurred with my son. They attacked him in his garden, where he is most relaxed. Someone amongst the mercenaries did their job very well, for they knew it to be the best place to attack him. Dunstan is always alone when he goes to his rose garden, and he never takes any of his magical items with him. In his garden, he is at his most vulnerable."
He fell silent a moment. His voice was barely above a whisper when he resumed speaking. "The roses protected him. I don't know how, but they took the killing force of the curse and did their best to soften the blow. And now they have grown up around him, succumbing to neither blade nor fire. Nothing gets through them. Whatever magic he fed to them, to make them grow all year long, did something to them. But…"
"But?" Trey asked.
"The roses are dying." Montaine said. "Only a few, but every day another begins to lose its vivacity. Time is running out."
Trey again shook his head, fingertips pressed lightly to his forehead as he thought. "So we must save your son without harming your daughter and keep? It seems quite the conundrum."
"It would take a great deal of magic," Topaz interjected.
"Then it would seem you are the key to this dilemma." Trey frowned at Topaz.
"Nay," the dragon replied. "I am average at best. Though Rowan taught me a great deal, I will never be of his caliber." He slid his gold-brown eyes toward Montaine. "In fact, I do believe Rowan hailed from your lands."
"He was a cousin of mine," Montaine replied. "I wish that more of us were as strong as Rowan and my son."
Topaz nodded. "I will not be the one going. My magic aside, my presence would arouse a great deal of suspicion. The King's Advisor does not make visits lightly."
Trey conceded the point. "Then what do you plan to do?" He eyed the dragon warily when Topaz beamed at him. "Not me."
"You."
"What mad notion is this?" Trey demanded.
Topaz gave him a long, hard look. Trey fell silent.
Bran smothered a laugh at Trey's dismay. "Trey, you had a great deal of practice during the past five years at dancing around magic and finding ways to fight it. How else did you manage to be the only one capable of coming so close to our borders? You have the best chance of finding a way to oust the mercenaries without them bringing the curse down upon Beatrice. If nothing else, you can at least find a way to buy us time until we can locate someone with magic strong enough to best that of the Bellewoods."
"Indeed," Trey said coolly. His gray eyes never left Topaz's.
"Do you mind helping that much, Trey?" Bran looked at him unhappily.
"Never do I mind lending my assistance," Trey protested. "Most especially for you, Bran." He turned to Lord Montaine. "And certainly I owe you more than a few favors, for getting me out of scrapes in my…turbulent younger years." And he would do a great deal more, for the chance to rescue Dunstan. It had been nearly six years since he had seen the younger man, but his interest had only grown stronger. When Montaine had arrived alone, Trey had stifled his disappointment and focused on his duties.
Montaine smiled briefly. "I hear you still get into them occasionally."
"The young knights start them." Trey defended himself. "I merely end them." He rose to his feet. "If this meeting is at an end, allow me to escort you back to your chambers, Lord Montaine."
"That would be most acceptable," Montaine rose to his feet.
Trey looked to Bran, "When do we depart?"
"With the morning, if you are amenable. Before sunrise."
"Most amenable." Trey sketched a bow and led Lord Montaine from the room. They walked in silence for a few moments, nodding to acquaintances but not lingering to talk. "I am looking forward to seeing your home, Lord Bellewood."
Montaine smiled. "Though I wish it was under happier circumstances, I do look forward to showing off my lands. Mayhap before the year it out, my son can show you his roses. They are…were his pride and joy."
"If they are half so beautiful as he often claimed, I do not doubt their fame at all." Trey had listened for hours while Dunstan spoke of his precious roses, though he had always felt the roses would fall far short of their caretaker.
Silence fell again, as they left the crowded halls behind and made their way through more deserted passages, lit by only a few scant torches. "You have calmed much over the years, my Lord of Mistdale."
"Many beatings on the sparring grounds helped to knock much of the trouble out of me - and some manners and discipline in."
Montaine let out a hearty laugh, looking less weary than he had before. "I think it is perhaps more than that, but no doubt the beatings helped."
Trey nodded in agreement. "Life this past year has been good."
"Ah," Montaine replied. "And here I thought perhaps someone at last had managed to find the heart still lost in the mists." He winked.
Trey grimaced at the old joke - that when he had been found at the edge of a misty valley just beyond the castle, the knights had accidentally left his heart behind. He had not been a particularly likeable child. "I am afraid it is still quite lost, my Lord."
"I see," Montaine said, and for a moment Trey thought he sounded pleased. He dismissed the strange thought.
He bowed once more as Montaine bid him good night and vanished into his room, then turned and went back the way he had come. When he had almost reached the Grand Hall, he abruptly veered left and headed instead for the stables.
Enough for one night. He needed to get out.
His horse looked up before he had even entered the stable, always somehow knowing when Trey was coming. The stallion had been a gift, as battle horses often were, from the late king. Trey had named him Whisper, for the horse heard everything and rarely made a sound unless he intended it.
"None today," he said softly as the horse inspected him for treats. "But I promise to bring you something tomorrow." Whisper settled as he saddled the horse and led him from the stable.
He called a farewell to the guards as they opened the gate for him, and ran off into the dark. Free of the castle, he loosed Whisper's reins and let the horse lead the way off into the night, winding through the fields until they came upon a small rise, pausing for a moment at the top.
The hill was sharper on the opposite side, spilling down into a valley that was always - no matter the weather or the time of year - filled with mist. Only the benevolence of the place had earned it a reputation for mysterious, rather than ominous. Trey had been found climbing the hill out of the mists when he was but a few summers old. He knew the Misty Dale better than he knew the castle, so often had he wandered it first alone, then with Whisper, to escape people that for many years he did not know how to get along with. And to remind him why he kept trying to get along with them.
It had been a jest one day, when a visiting nobleman had asked the name of the young squire causing so much ruckus, that a nearby knight had said, "That is Trey of the Misty Dale." The name had stuck, and when at last he had been knighted, the king had indeed declared him the Knight of Mistdale.
Distantly he heard the castle bells chiming the eleventh hour, as Whisper reached the top of the hill once more and left the valley behind.
"Hale, Captain." A guard waved to him from the top of the gate.
"Hale. How does the night find you?"
"Bored out of our minds," a second knight said cheerfully. "Eleventh bell and all is well."
Trey nodded as he passed through gates, which clattered and slammed shut behind him. "I hope you are properly appreciative of that."
"Of course, of course. But honestly, Captain. All the revelers that were about this evening, and not even a drunkard to toss into a cell. Must not have been terribly grand a party. 'Tis a strange night, Captain."
"Indeed," Trey said coolly. "See that you keep your guard up."
"Never fear," the first knight replied. "You in a temper is far worse than whatever might be out there."
Trey grunted, keeping his laughter to himself. He dismounted as a small boy of about thirteen years came running toward him, a fierce frown marring his freckled face. "It would seem I have gone and offended you again, Victor."
Victor sniffed, tossing his carrot-colored curls. "My Lord, how am I supposed to do as you say or learn anything if you are always running off and leaving me behind? It is hard to attend a man who is constantly vanishing."
Trey ruffled his hair, laughing at Victor's affronted look. "I am certain you will manage." He handed over Whisper's reins. "Here, take care of my horse. That should give you something to do, and soothe those ruffled feathers of yours."
Victor eyed the massive stallion warily. "More likely he will attempt to bite my feathers off."
Laughing harder, Trey left his squire and horse in the courtyard and headed for his bedchamber.
He was not surprised to see a figure sitting before his fire, dusky skin seeming to drink in the flickering flames. "I thought you might have more to say on the matter, Dragon."
Topaz smiled. "I thought you might prefer I not elaborate on certain matters in front of Bran and Montaine."
"I would prefer you not elaborate on certain matters in front of me!" Trey snapped. "But it seems I have little choice."
"Denial will not make it go away."
"It has worked rather well so far," Trey replied, glaring resentfully at the dragon. He broke the gaze a moment later, sighing softly and staring into the fire. "Rowan taught you to be conniving and persistent, among other things. Come to the point of your visit Topaz, I am weary."
"I think you can free Dunstan."
Trey shook his head adamantly back and forth, flames and shadows mixing oddly in his pale hair. His grey eyes were dark shadows as he resumed glaring at Topaz. "I am no magician."
"Only because you chose not to be."
"Exactly. I chose not to be. I want no part of magic. I am happy as a knight."
"You are scared of what you might be."
Trey's reply was a bitter laugh. "Do not insult me by saying 'might,' Dragon. You know better than anyone what I 'might' be. What I am."
"And that is why I think you can free Dunstan."
"I will not go down that path." Trey said, but his voice was not as stony as it had been before.
Topaz seemed to sense the weakness. "Not even for Dunstan? For Montaine?"
"Damn you, Dragon." Trey stormed across the room to his bed, discarding his cape and sitting down to remove his boots. "Why can you never leave well enough alone?"
"Because I would not be much of an Adviser if I did not do what was necessary to serve my king and country." He smiled as Trey rolled his eyes. "That aside, it is no small matter that our northern-most border is besieged by mercenaries. And you are most fit to deal with that threat."
"Because of the magic that I want no part of?"
"You have used it." Topaz's golden eyes were penetrating. "Perhaps no one else ever realized it, but I am fully aware of what you did during Vladimir's sorry reign."
Trey shrugged, "It was little enough."
"You were able to get past his barrier, Trey. That is no small feat."
"I could go no further than a couple of miles, and that only for a handful of hours. Enough to kill and steal from peasants and knights that did not understand why we acted as we did!" Trey surged to his feet, "I will do my duty, Dragon! Leave me in peace."
Topaz sketched a short bow, "I did not mean to anger you, Trey."
"Yes, you did." Trey sighed. "I know my duty, Topaz, and I will fulfill it. But do not expect me to do it in good grace. And no matter what, my secret remains between us."
Topaz smiled faintly, "I do not forget my promises, Child of the Mist. None will ever hear your secrets from me. Sleep well."
"And you, Dragon." Trey sighed softly as Topaz left. He dropped his good boots and tunic on the floor, falling into bed with his good breeches still on.
"Your clothes are on the floor!" Victor shrieked in outrage as he entered the room.
Trey smiled into his pillow. "I guess Whisper did not bite off your feathers, after all. I left the clothes for you."
Grumbling, Victor set about putting Trey's room to rights.
"Have my things packed, Victor. I am going to be gone for quite some time."
"My lord?"
"The Lord of Bellewood requires my assistance. I do not think I will require my armor, as I will be going to the sea." He looked up, "I will expect everything to be ready by third bell. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord!" Victor dashed off, perhaps the only squire to ever be eager about staying up all night to pack. He paused in the doorway, "Am I going with you, my lord?"
Trey pretended to deliberate, snickering to himself at the way Victor tried not to hop from one foot to the other. "Yes, I suppose you may."
"Thank you, Sir Trey!" He slammed the door behind him, dashing off to see to all the preparations.
Laughter fading, Trey pulled his blankets up and closed his eyes, falling slowly into sleep.
It's 33 pages, so it's getting posted in three chunks. I like it, my betas like it, here's to hoping it meets with the approval of the audience ^_~
The Knight and the Statue
"You needed to see me, Majesty?" Trey gave Bran a brief, puzzled look as he rose from his short bow. It was unlike Bran to conduct business during festivities, which were rare as they still worked tirelessly to restore the kingdom that had been ruled by mayhem for more than five years. It was odder still that Bran was conducting business in his private quarters, and had been almost since the Spring Fair had begun that day.
"None of that," Bran dismissed the formality with a gesture. "You are, I am told, well acquainted with Lord Montaine of Bellewood?" He indicated the man in the chair across from him. The man was tall and skinny, age having robbed him of the massive build he'd once possessed. His gray hair still contained strands of strawberry blonde, the wrinkles in his face relating the active, happy life he had led.
"Of course," Trey sketched a bow to the thin, gray and haunted looking man. "I have known him since I was lad." He paused, "Your children, too sir, I have known for many years. I was surprised you did not bring them with you." Trey's thoughts flitted to Montaine's absent children, a girl with strawberry blond hair like her father's had once been, and his same blue-green eyes. She had always been smiling, and loved to dance - always insisting Trey dance with her, though he refused to dance with anyone else. But it was the youngest, Montaine's son, on which his thoughts lingered longest, a young man who was the spitting image of his deceased mother. Midnight curls and pale skin, he spoke quietly and smiled softly, until he spoke of magic or roses. Then he turned all fire.
More than once, in later years, Trey had wondered what it would be like to stoke those fires. But guilt had kept him from trying - the boy was six years his junior. Even had that not been a problem, there was the fact that he was the son of a prosperous and well-respected lord. Heir to the Bellewood name and lands, it was hardly suitable that he take up with a nameless, landless knight - even one who had won the favor of two kings.
Guilt, among other things.
Bran nodded, looking pleased at his observation. "They are unable to come, Trey. Their absence is the reason I called for you."
"Bran…" Trey was confused. "Come to your point. You know my dislike for riddles. Did you want me to deduce why Dunstan and Beatrice are missing? Even a year after your taking the throne, the lands are not entirely safe. Dunstan has not visited the palace since Vladimir took over - I presumed they had been sent away for protection."
Beside Bran, a man with dusky skin and gold eyes chuckled softly. "So impatient, my Lord of Mistdale."
"What be the problem, Dragon?" Trey asked irritably.
"Sit, Trey." Bran motioned his Captain to a seat. "This is a tale that will take some time to tell."
Trey obeyed, shooting another glare at Topaz, who was snickering softly at him.
"Topaz, if you please?" Bran looked at the dragon. "I still do not have a firm grasp of the magic the people here take for granted. The explanation will make more sense coming from you."
"Of course," Topaz assented, smiling fondly at the king. He turned serious and addressed Trey. "Lord Montaine has long protected our coastline from pirates and other threats. This you know. He does so with both steel and magic - magic that is probably the most superior in the land."
Montaine nodded. "The magic skipped me, but it showed up strongly in my son. My father believed the boy would surpass him, some day. We…we never imagined it would be his downfall…"
"His downfall?" Trey repeated, horrified. Something in his chest twisted and began to ache. "Is Dunstan…"
"He is not dead," Topaz hastened to explain. "Not yet, anyway. Lord Montaine takes great risk, coming to us with his problem."
Montaine let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I had no choice. If I am to save him, I must risk us all. Gods forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive," Bran said forcefully. He turned to Trey, "His son has been cursed. I do not understand it much, except that he is not dead though that was the intent of the curse."
Trey frowned. "That does not happen. Curses are illegal because they are killing magic."
Topaz explained. "Vladimir, unbeknownst to any at the capital, had made arrangements with mercenaries to help in his takeover - an outside threat that the crown and his council would not expect. But to get into the country they first had to get by the magic set down by the Bellewood Mages. The only northern access was through the open stretch guarded by the Bellewood. All the rest was jagged cliff and sharp rocks hidden in the waves, to tear apart the boats that got too close.
"They killed Montaine's father. But something went wrong when they attempted to kill Dunstan. Rather than killing him, the curse turned him to stone - and somehow it also managed to freeze the protections set along the coast and the Bellewood lands. The majority of the mercenaries were unable to get past the barriers."
Silence fell as Topaz finished explaining.
"He was turned to stone?" Trey asked in disbelief. "I have never heard of such a thing, save in children's tales."
"It is rather strange, is it not?" Topaz asked. "Under any other circumstance I would say it is fascinating. Sadly the situation is too grim for us to regard it so lightly."
"But it has been a year since Vladimir's death. Why is all of this coming up only now? Surely the mercenaries have long since given up and retreated."
Montaine shook his head, "Most did leave; they had no choice. But there are more that want the money they feel they were cheated out of by both my son's strange evasion of the curse and Vladimir's death. They are waiting for the spell that keeps the curse from killing him to fade."
"Why not simply kill them?"
"Because otherwise they will kill my daughter," Montaine said hoarsely. "If their lives even once appear to be threatened, they will finish the curse they have begun with her. I risk her life even by coming here with my problem."
Trey shook his head, overwhelmed by the explanations. "So your son is not dead because a spell kept the curse from killing him. He has been turned to stone, and the mercenaries wait for that spell to fade, that they might exact their revenge? And to keep you from doing away with them, they have placed a partial curse on your daughter? Why not simply kill you all now? It makes no sense that they would merely bide their time waiting for one man to die."
Montaine sighed. "Because they cannot kill all of us while my son is bespelled. I told you that the protections cast were frozen with him. One of those protections dampens magic - the mercenaries are not magically strong enough to curse all of us, and they do not have enough numbers to use weapons. We are at an impasse. If we attack them, they kill my daughter. If they attack us, we will kill them before they can get free. So we wait for the spell to fade and free my son. The longer he remains as stone, the longer we have to live. When the spell fades, we are either doomed or saved, depending on what happens when he wakes.
For several minutes Trey was silent, mulling over all that he had been told. "One thing still does not make sense to me. Well, more than one but we will settle on just one question for the time being."
"Ask all the questions you like," Montaine insisted.
"Why not simply smash the stone?" he saw the others wince and shrugged defensively. "It is a legitimate question. Break the statue that Dunstan has become and he is effectively dead, freeing you all from the constraints of the unexpected spell."
Montaine nodded, though he had grown paler. "We cannot reach him. I do not think, Sir Trey, that you fully understand just what has occurred with my son. They attacked him in his garden, where he is most relaxed. Someone amongst the mercenaries did their job very well, for they knew it to be the best place to attack him. Dunstan is always alone when he goes to his rose garden, and he never takes any of his magical items with him. In his garden, he is at his most vulnerable."
He fell silent a moment. His voice was barely above a whisper when he resumed speaking. "The roses protected him. I don't know how, but they took the killing force of the curse and did their best to soften the blow. And now they have grown up around him, succumbing to neither blade nor fire. Nothing gets through them. Whatever magic he fed to them, to make them grow all year long, did something to them. But…"
"But?" Trey asked.
"The roses are dying." Montaine said. "Only a few, but every day another begins to lose its vivacity. Time is running out."
Trey again shook his head, fingertips pressed lightly to his forehead as he thought. "So we must save your son without harming your daughter and keep? It seems quite the conundrum."
"It would take a great deal of magic," Topaz interjected.
"Then it would seem you are the key to this dilemma." Trey frowned at Topaz.
"Nay," the dragon replied. "I am average at best. Though Rowan taught me a great deal, I will never be of his caliber." He slid his gold-brown eyes toward Montaine. "In fact, I do believe Rowan hailed from your lands."
"He was a cousin of mine," Montaine replied. "I wish that more of us were as strong as Rowan and my son."
Topaz nodded. "I will not be the one going. My magic aside, my presence would arouse a great deal of suspicion. The King's Advisor does not make visits lightly."
Trey conceded the point. "Then what do you plan to do?" He eyed the dragon warily when Topaz beamed at him. "Not me."
"You."
"What mad notion is this?" Trey demanded.
Topaz gave him a long, hard look. Trey fell silent.
Bran smothered a laugh at Trey's dismay. "Trey, you had a great deal of practice during the past five years at dancing around magic and finding ways to fight it. How else did you manage to be the only one capable of coming so close to our borders? You have the best chance of finding a way to oust the mercenaries without them bringing the curse down upon Beatrice. If nothing else, you can at least find a way to buy us time until we can locate someone with magic strong enough to best that of the Bellewoods."
"Indeed," Trey said coolly. His gray eyes never left Topaz's.
"Do you mind helping that much, Trey?" Bran looked at him unhappily.
"Never do I mind lending my assistance," Trey protested. "Most especially for you, Bran." He turned to Lord Montaine. "And certainly I owe you more than a few favors, for getting me out of scrapes in my…turbulent younger years." And he would do a great deal more, for the chance to rescue Dunstan. It had been nearly six years since he had seen the younger man, but his interest had only grown stronger. When Montaine had arrived alone, Trey had stifled his disappointment and focused on his duties.
Montaine smiled briefly. "I hear you still get into them occasionally."
"The young knights start them." Trey defended himself. "I merely end them." He rose to his feet. "If this meeting is at an end, allow me to escort you back to your chambers, Lord Montaine."
"That would be most acceptable," Montaine rose to his feet.
Trey looked to Bran, "When do we depart?"
"With the morning, if you are amenable. Before sunrise."
"Most amenable." Trey sketched a bow and led Lord Montaine from the room. They walked in silence for a few moments, nodding to acquaintances but not lingering to talk. "I am looking forward to seeing your home, Lord Bellewood."
Montaine smiled. "Though I wish it was under happier circumstances, I do look forward to showing off my lands. Mayhap before the year it out, my son can show you his roses. They are…were his pride and joy."
"If they are half so beautiful as he often claimed, I do not doubt their fame at all." Trey had listened for hours while Dunstan spoke of his precious roses, though he had always felt the roses would fall far short of their caretaker.
Silence fell again, as they left the crowded halls behind and made their way through more deserted passages, lit by only a few scant torches. "You have calmed much over the years, my Lord of Mistdale."
"Many beatings on the sparring grounds helped to knock much of the trouble out of me - and some manners and discipline in."
Montaine let out a hearty laugh, looking less weary than he had before. "I think it is perhaps more than that, but no doubt the beatings helped."
Trey nodded in agreement. "Life this past year has been good."
"Ah," Montaine replied. "And here I thought perhaps someone at last had managed to find the heart still lost in the mists." He winked.
Trey grimaced at the old joke - that when he had been found at the edge of a misty valley just beyond the castle, the knights had accidentally left his heart behind. He had not been a particularly likeable child. "I am afraid it is still quite lost, my Lord."
"I see," Montaine said, and for a moment Trey thought he sounded pleased. He dismissed the strange thought.
He bowed once more as Montaine bid him good night and vanished into his room, then turned and went back the way he had come. When he had almost reached the Grand Hall, he abruptly veered left and headed instead for the stables.
Enough for one night. He needed to get out.
His horse looked up before he had even entered the stable, always somehow knowing when Trey was coming. The stallion had been a gift, as battle horses often were, from the late king. Trey had named him Whisper, for the horse heard everything and rarely made a sound unless he intended it.
"None today," he said softly as the horse inspected him for treats. "But I promise to bring you something tomorrow." Whisper settled as he saddled the horse and led him from the stable.
He called a farewell to the guards as they opened the gate for him, and ran off into the dark. Free of the castle, he loosed Whisper's reins and let the horse lead the way off into the night, winding through the fields until they came upon a small rise, pausing for a moment at the top.
The hill was sharper on the opposite side, spilling down into a valley that was always - no matter the weather or the time of year - filled with mist. Only the benevolence of the place had earned it a reputation for mysterious, rather than ominous. Trey had been found climbing the hill out of the mists when he was but a few summers old. He knew the Misty Dale better than he knew the castle, so often had he wandered it first alone, then with Whisper, to escape people that for many years he did not know how to get along with. And to remind him why he kept trying to get along with them.
It had been a jest one day, when a visiting nobleman had asked the name of the young squire causing so much ruckus, that a nearby knight had said, "That is Trey of the Misty Dale." The name had stuck, and when at last he had been knighted, the king had indeed declared him the Knight of Mistdale.
Distantly he heard the castle bells chiming the eleventh hour, as Whisper reached the top of the hill once more and left the valley behind.
"Hale, Captain." A guard waved to him from the top of the gate.
"Hale. How does the night find you?"
"Bored out of our minds," a second knight said cheerfully. "Eleventh bell and all is well."
Trey nodded as he passed through gates, which clattered and slammed shut behind him. "I hope you are properly appreciative of that."
"Of course, of course. But honestly, Captain. All the revelers that were about this evening, and not even a drunkard to toss into a cell. Must not have been terribly grand a party. 'Tis a strange night, Captain."
"Indeed," Trey said coolly. "See that you keep your guard up."
"Never fear," the first knight replied. "You in a temper is far worse than whatever might be out there."
Trey grunted, keeping his laughter to himself. He dismounted as a small boy of about thirteen years came running toward him, a fierce frown marring his freckled face. "It would seem I have gone and offended you again, Victor."
Victor sniffed, tossing his carrot-colored curls. "My Lord, how am I supposed to do as you say or learn anything if you are always running off and leaving me behind? It is hard to attend a man who is constantly vanishing."
Trey ruffled his hair, laughing at Victor's affronted look. "I am certain you will manage." He handed over Whisper's reins. "Here, take care of my horse. That should give you something to do, and soothe those ruffled feathers of yours."
Victor eyed the massive stallion warily. "More likely he will attempt to bite my feathers off."
Laughing harder, Trey left his squire and horse in the courtyard and headed for his bedchamber.
He was not surprised to see a figure sitting before his fire, dusky skin seeming to drink in the flickering flames. "I thought you might have more to say on the matter, Dragon."
Topaz smiled. "I thought you might prefer I not elaborate on certain matters in front of Bran and Montaine."
"I would prefer you not elaborate on certain matters in front of me!" Trey snapped. "But it seems I have little choice."
"Denial will not make it go away."
"It has worked rather well so far," Trey replied, glaring resentfully at the dragon. He broke the gaze a moment later, sighing softly and staring into the fire. "Rowan taught you to be conniving and persistent, among other things. Come to the point of your visit Topaz, I am weary."
"I think you can free Dunstan."
Trey shook his head adamantly back and forth, flames and shadows mixing oddly in his pale hair. His grey eyes were dark shadows as he resumed glaring at Topaz. "I am no magician."
"Only because you chose not to be."
"Exactly. I chose not to be. I want no part of magic. I am happy as a knight."
"You are scared of what you might be."
Trey's reply was a bitter laugh. "Do not insult me by saying 'might,' Dragon. You know better than anyone what I 'might' be. What I am."
"And that is why I think you can free Dunstan."
"I will not go down that path." Trey said, but his voice was not as stony as it had been before.
Topaz seemed to sense the weakness. "Not even for Dunstan? For Montaine?"
"Damn you, Dragon." Trey stormed across the room to his bed, discarding his cape and sitting down to remove his boots. "Why can you never leave well enough alone?"
"Because I would not be much of an Adviser if I did not do what was necessary to serve my king and country." He smiled as Trey rolled his eyes. "That aside, it is no small matter that our northern-most border is besieged by mercenaries. And you are most fit to deal with that threat."
"Because of the magic that I want no part of?"
"You have used it." Topaz's golden eyes were penetrating. "Perhaps no one else ever realized it, but I am fully aware of what you did during Vladimir's sorry reign."
Trey shrugged, "It was little enough."
"You were able to get past his barrier, Trey. That is no small feat."
"I could go no further than a couple of miles, and that only for a handful of hours. Enough to kill and steal from peasants and knights that did not understand why we acted as we did!" Trey surged to his feet, "I will do my duty, Dragon! Leave me in peace."
Topaz sketched a short bow, "I did not mean to anger you, Trey."
"Yes, you did." Trey sighed. "I know my duty, Topaz, and I will fulfill it. But do not expect me to do it in good grace. And no matter what, my secret remains between us."
Topaz smiled faintly, "I do not forget my promises, Child of the Mist. None will ever hear your secrets from me. Sleep well."
"And you, Dragon." Trey sighed softly as Topaz left. He dropped his good boots and tunic on the floor, falling into bed with his good breeches still on.
"Your clothes are on the floor!" Victor shrieked in outrage as he entered the room.
Trey smiled into his pillow. "I guess Whisper did not bite off your feathers, after all. I left the clothes for you."
Grumbling, Victor set about putting Trey's room to rights.
"Have my things packed, Victor. I am going to be gone for quite some time."
"My lord?"
"The Lord of Bellewood requires my assistance. I do not think I will require my armor, as I will be going to the sea." He looked up, "I will expect everything to be ready by third bell. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord!" Victor dashed off, perhaps the only squire to ever be eager about staying up all night to pack. He paused in the doorway, "Am I going with you, my lord?"
Trey pretended to deliberate, snickering to himself at the way Victor tried not to hop from one foot to the other. "Yes, I suppose you may."
"Thank you, Sir Trey!" He slammed the door behind him, dashing off to see to all the preparations.
Laughter fading, Trey pulled his blankets up and closed his eyes, falling slowly into sleep.
*~*~*~*
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Date: 2005-04-08 02:53 am (UTC)Ehehehe, sorry? ^^;;;
Oh crap, late AGAIN. *runs*
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Date: 2005-04-08 07:37 am (UTC)Fun stuff! I love fantasy-pieces. =) Have to go to bed so I'll finish tomorrow. I was a little confused when they were explaining the whole curse-thing, but it may be because my brain has stopped functioning.
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Date: 2005-04-08 11:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 11:46 am (UTC)Drat. I knew there was going to be something.
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Date: 2005-04-08 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-08 05:56 pm (UTC)You people are having fun pointing out my flaws, aren't you? :P
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Date: 2005-04-08 03:28 pm (UTC)But it was the youngest, Montaine's son, on which his thoughts lingered longest, young man who was the spitting image of his deceased mother.
I think there should be an "a" in there--...a young man who...
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Date: 2005-04-08 03:49 pm (UTC)Lol. I knew there would be. I appreciate you guys pointing them. ^_^