Son of the Hero Read online

  “He is my heir,” Pregel said firmly.

  “You know, Your Majesty,” I said, just to remind everyone that I was still in the room, “I still don’t know what the hell anyone’s talking about.”

  Three pairs of eyes turned to me.

  “You are my only direct male descendant,” the king said. “Heir apparent to the throne of Varay.”

  I don’t think anyone heard the muted “Holy shit!” that I just couldn’t restrain.

  4

  Chamberlain

  Pregel groused and pouted by turn. His face got red. He left food on his plate, shoved it away, got up and went to one of the four tall, narrow windows in the room. I got up from the table with relief, Parthet with reluctance. We waited for His Majesty. Baron Kardeen remained as he had been. Waiting seemed to be his natural function. The wait wasn’t long, but as usual in uncomfortable situations, it seemed eternal.

  “We have to do what we can for my grandson,” Pregel finally said without turning away from the window. “I won’t risk him alone on this.”

  “Your Majesty, delay might put my parents at greater risk,” I said.

  “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here quickly, as fast as may be. I think we can still find horses.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the chamberlain said. Neither of them bothered to ask if I could ride. Maybe they took it for granted, or maybe my parents had talked about my riding—sometime in the past I knew nothing about.

  “A page to attend him and at least one soldier,” Pregel said, his voice starting to sound almost bitter. “The heir of Varay need an entourage, poor though it might be. And perhaps you can spare an hour to brief the prince and equip him properly.”

  “At once, Your Majesty,” Kardeen said.

  We waited some more. “Then get about it, man, while I dress,” Pregel said. He came over to me. “When this is over, we’ll have to spend some time together, get to know each other while we may.”

  “I hope to have that opportunity,” I said, meaning it.

  “I’ll see you in an hour then, in the throne room.”

  I nodded, and the king left the room alone.

  There was a moment of silence and then Parthet looked at Kardeen and said, “His health seems much improved.”

  The baron nodded. “When I told him his grandson was here, he virtually leaped out of bed.” Kardeen smiled wanly. “It feels wonderful to give him good news for a change. He’s been so besieged by worry lately, especially since the young Etevar seized Castle Thyme.”

  “If we’ve only got an hour, shouldn’t we get busy?” I asked. I was getting increasingly annoyed at being discussed in the third person all the time, but there was no decent way to make the point. all I could do was toss in my two cents’ worth now and then to remind everyone that I was there.

  “You’re right, of course,” Kardeen said easily. “Let’s go down to my office.”

  It was quite a walk, down the stairs we had come up, along the broad corridor past the great hall, through a left turn and along a short corridor, up a shorter flight of steps, thirty yards along another corridor, up another short flight of steps into yet another—but much narrower—short corridor. By my reckoning, we had left the keep and had to be in what I had thought was just a curtain wall, or maybe we were in the large tower at the southeast corner of the courtyard. We went through one office where a clerk was writing—using a long quill on a sheet of parchment the size of a Monopoly board—into a smaller office with a large desk and several chairs. Kardeen indicated chairs and seated himself behind the desk. When he rang a bell, his clerk raced in from the outer office.

  “I need the Master of Pages and the guard commander, as quickly as possible,” Kardeen said. “Also the armorer.” The clerk bowed and left.

  Kardeen stared at me. I stared at him. He was just under six feet tall, about my height, and built solidly enough to be an athlete or warrior. He looked to be in his late thirties, but by that time I didn’t put any trust at all in age estimates. Age was apparently a very nebulous quality in Varay. The baron was clean-shaven, had inky black hair with just the slightest trace of gray, and had deep-set black eyes, a hooded look. His desk was large, unpolished. There were a number of scrolls on it, rolled-up, held by ribbons or rubber bands. A desk set held a pair of felt-tip markers.

  “I think that the first thing I need is basic data,” I said. “Background information. How big is Varay? How far is it to Castle Thyme? What’s the trouble in the north that keeps the army busy? What’s the basis of the current dispute with the Etevar?” I could have asked questions all week and still had more waiting, but that wouldn’t do much good, so I wrapped up the abbreviated recital with a reminder. “I don’t know anything at all about this place.”

  “I know that your parents planned to wait until you turned twenty-one before they told you about the buffer zone. You might be surprised to know how often you have been the topic of discussion here at court.” Kardeen glanced at Parthet before he continued.

  “Varay is one of seven buffer kingdoms that lie between the domains of Man and Fairy. This is a particularly narrow place in the zone, with the unscalable Titans to our south and the Mist, also called the Sea of Fairy, and the Isthmus of Xayber to the north. Xayber is the only land passage to Fairy. We have often stood at the van in struggles with the elflords. Dorthin lies to our east, and Mauroc beyond it. Belorz is our western neighbor. Both of our immediate neighbors are much larger, more populous, and stronger than Varay—mostly because we are always the first to feel the wrath of the elflords of Fairy. Belorz has given us no trouble in many generations, but Dorthin is a recurrent plague.”

  “Just where in the world is Varay located, though?” The time difference would seem to put it on the west coast of the United States or Canada, and while it wouldn’t surprise me to find something as screwy as Varay in California, I didn’t think it was there. Somebody would have mentioned it.

  “It isn’t located anywhere in your world, or in the world of Fairy either,” Kardeen said. “The buffer zone partakes of both but is part of neither.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, “but go ahead. We can’t waste time on details now.”

  “Logic and science contend with chaos and magic in the seven kingdoms,” Parthet said. “Logic and science don’t always win. Perhaps that is essential. The worlds balance each other across our fulcrum. Neither side can be confident of victory in any particular clash. The rules are liable to change without notice.”

  “In Varay, and to some extent in the other kingdoms, we stand between the forces of the two polar realms, mortal and Fairy,” Kardeen said. “Walking the edge of that precipice is our key to survival. Tradition is our only measure. In the buffer zone, neither mortality nor immortality can be taken for granted. A gain in strength by one side calls forth renewed efforts by the other, trying to redress the imbalance.”

  “Complete domination by either side would likely destroy both,” Parthet said. “And any major swing in either realm is reflected all too quickly here in the center. Jerked back and forth like a pull of taffy.”

  “And your army is tied up by trouble with Fairy,” I said, trying to direct the conversation to more practical considerations.

  “Off and on for decades now,” Kardeen said. “And whenever our troubles in the north increase, the Etevar of Dorthin tries to take advantage.”

  “Why?”

  “Our most ancient legends tell of a time when the seven kingdoms were united in an empire strong enough to enforce an era when the buffer zone was just as potent as either Fairy or the mortal realm—our Golden Age, with prosperity and contentment. The Etevar wants to recreate that empire with himself as ruler.”

  “The title Etevar means “emperor” in the old language,” Parthet said. “The renewal of this legendary empire is a recurrent disease in their family. Generation after generation of Etevar holds the same goal, strives after it whenever he can, thirsts after it always.”

&nb
sp; The Master of Pages arrived. Kardeen and Parthet wrangled with him over the selection of a page for me. It sounded like nonsense, but I was in no position to gripe after the king said I was to have a page. I told myself to go with the flow until I doped out enough of the situation to assert myself. The discussion did give me time for a little mental digestion. All I really got out of the previous discussion was that we were the good guys and everybody else was the bad guys, especially the Etevar of Dorthin and anyone out of Fairy.

  By the time the Master of Pages was dismissed, the guard commander and the armorer were waiting. I couldn’t ignore this discussion.

  “How many soldiers can you find to accompany the prince, right away, this morning?” Kardeen asked the guard commander—one of the thug-types I had seen in the great hall at breakfast. He was several inches shorter than me and built solid, like a side of beef.

  “We don’t have enough men for garrison duty now,” the commander said. His voice was a throaty growl that sounded like the harbinger of serious health problems in the near future.

  “At His Majesty’s direction,” Kardeen said.

  The guard commander looked as if he wanted to growl, but didn’t.

  “Someone who knows the land between here and Castle Thyme,” I suggested. A half-blind wizard might not be the most reliable pathfinder. “What about that man we talked to this morning, Uncle Parthet? What was his name, Lesh?” Parthet nodded.

  “I believe Lesh is from the eastern marches,” the guard commander said. “But perhaps someone a bit younger might serve you better.”

  “Or not,” I said. “If Lesh is willing to go, I’ll have him.” Parthet looked pleased by my choice.

  “As you wish, my lord,” the commander said, bowing.

  “If he’s willing,” I emphasized. “I don’t want draftees.”

  “Is there anyone else you’d also like?” Kardeen asked.

  “Lesh is the only one I really had a chance to meet,” I said. “Look, I know this is difficult, but time seems to be in short supply. One man or six won’t make much difference unless I take a whole army, and the more time we waste finding people, the longer it will take. I appreciate the concern, but I’m worried about my folks. Lesh, Uncle Parthet, and the page. That’s entourage enough for now. Truly.” Kardeen looked relieved. He dismissed the guard commander with instructions to get Lesh and four horses ready to go, fully equipped for a week in the field. Then it was the armorer’s turn.

  “We need equipment for His Highness,” Kardeen told him, “Mail shirt, buckler, helmet.”

  “I have my own weapons,” I said. Everything but the pistol was in plain sight. I didn’t bring the gun out.

  “If I might examine them, Highness?” The armorer studied my bow, sword, and knife critically. The compound bow didn’t throw him for an instant. “Excellent weapons, lord.” I though so. Dad always insisted on the best.

  “I think it’s time for us to see His Majesty,” I said, checking my watch.

  “We still have a few minutes to spare,” Kardeen said without looking at a timepiece. “Batheus, we’ll need the shield and other items quickly.” As the armorer left, Kardeen’s clerk came in and whispered to the chamberlain.

  “And now it’s time for us to attend His Majesty,” Kardeen said with a soft smile in my direction.

  “One more thing before I forget,” I said. “Do you have a map of the area between here and Castle Thyme?”

  “We have maps of the seven kingdoms around somewhere,” Kardeen said. “My clerk will sketch you a copy of the appropriate portion if he can find them in time.”

  The clerk nodded quickly. “Immediately, Your Highness.”

  The throne room was an office scarcely larger than the chamberlain’s. The throne was set on a dais two feet above the floor, but it sat behind a desk as cluttered as Kardeen’s. Pregel was apparently a working monarch when the mood struck him. When Kardeen, Parthet, and I entered, there were already a couple of dozen people in the room. But the king hadn’t arrived yet. He came in just a minute after we did. Everyone bowed—not too deeply—from the time the herald announced Pregel until the king climbed on his throne and told us to rise.

  “Come here, Gil,” Pregel said. “Stand on my right.”

  I climbed up on the dais and stood next to the throne, feeling nervous as everyone in the room stared at me.

  “My loyal subjects.” The king’s voice carried well in the small room. “This young man is Gil Tyner, son of my granddaughter Avedell and her husband, Carl, King’s Champion, Hero of Varay. Gil departs today on a mission as fraught with peril as any ever attempted by a Hero. We name him our heir for all to hear, King of Varay when I am no more. Our prayers and magics go with him today and always.”

  I had a fleeting moment to wish that someone had taught me the proper etiquette for occasions of that sort. I would have settled for a simple warning of what was going to happen. I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was supposed to do. All of the people down in front of the dais bowed deeply and held it.

  “What do I do now?” I whispered to the king when I had figured out that the people were going to hold the position.

  He grinned, then whispered back, “A simple ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ loud enough for everyone to hear, should do it.”

  I bowed and said exactly what he’d told me to say and everyone straightened up and started staring at me again.

  “You have everything you need?” the king asked me, softly, but not in a whisper.

  “It’s all been arranged, I think,” I said.

  “Our prayers and magics do go with you, Gil,” he said. He gripped my arm—very tightly. “That’s not completely an empty formula here. And if you can keep Parthet from losing his spectacles, he can actually help.” Pregel smiled. “Go now, and I wish you luck.”

  I bowed again and climbed down from the dais, wishing I hadn’t lost all those years with Pregel. I had only the faintest memories of him from when I was little, and I had found myself liking him right from the start that morning. Kardeen, Parthet, and I left the throne room together while people continued to stare.

  “I wish somebody had warned me what to expect in there,” I said when we were out in the corridor. “Remember, I’m a stranger here. I don’t know the right things to do and say.”

  “I’m sorry, Highness.” Kardeen sounded like he meant it. “I keep forgetting.”

  Lesh and a boy who said his name was Timon met us in the antechamber beyond the great hall. Timon looked to be about eight or nine years old. He said he was to be my page. The armorer and Kardeen’s clerk joined us a moment later. The armorer was carrying a real load.

  “I’m supposed to wear all that?” I asked.

  “Just the necessities, Your Highness,” the armorer said. He held up the mail shirt, small chain links attached to a heavy leather foundation. Timon and Lesh took off my pack and sword belt. The armorer draped the mail over my fatigue shirt and I gained a quick twenty pounds or more. When he tried to clap a steel-and-leather skullcap on me though, I rebelled.

  “I have my own headgear,” I said. I whipped the Cubs cap from my back pocket and slipped it on.

  “But …” Lesh started. I cut him short.

  “No way! I’m not even real crazy about this steel straitjacket. The tin pot is out.” Lesh didn’t argue in front of the others, but he handed the helmet to Timon, who held on to it as if it were the Grail.

  The shield was round and two feet in diameter. A wood core was sandwiched between layers of sheet metal and leather, with scores of rivets holding the whole thing together and adding their own measure of protection. In the center there was a raised boss with a six-inch spike protruding. That shield was meant as much for offense as defense. I slipped my arm through the one loop on the back and gripped the wooden handle. It was heavy, but it felt good.

  “I hope I can hang this thing on the horse when I don’t need it,” I said. The armorer assured me that the saddle had provision for the shield.
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br />   “How about food?” I asked. “I don’t recall anyone mentioning food.”

  “Taken care of, Highness,” Lesh said. “I’ve been on a campaign or two. I saw to it myself.”

  “And here’s the map you wanted,” Kardeen said, taking a bulky scroll from his clerk. I untied the leather thong and unrolled the scroll, an eighteen-by-thirty-six-inch sheet of parchment. For a rush job, it looked damn good. Roads, towns, villages, castles, and streams were marked for all of Varay and the nearer portions of Dorthin and the Isthmus of Xayber; mountains in the south, sea and isthmus in the north. There was even a large forested area north of the route to Castle Thyme marked with the warning “Here there be dragons.” What more could I ask for?

  “Admirable work,” I said, smiling at the clerk. He smiled back and bowed.

  We went out to the horses. Walking in chain mail, with the shield and everything else, was something like wading through Jell-O. I’d have to shed some of the weight if I wanted to accomplish anything. Putting my pack in a saddlebag was a start. Hanging my shield from the skirt of the saddle was even better. I got light enough to mount without help.

  The horses were a mixed lot. I had a decent-looking stallion the size of a Clydesdale. Lesh’s charger might have been the sire of mine. It looked old, but still fit. Timon’s pony looked like a runt even without comparing it to the big animals. And Parthet—well, someone had dug up an old swaybacked nag that looked as if it came from a Three Stooges short. Someone had a sick sense of humor, I thought—putting a hunchback on a sway-back.

  “She’s a fine animal,” Parthet said as I was about to blow some steam. It was almost as if he had read my mind. “I’ve ridden Glory here before, lad. We’re comfortable with each other.

  I still needed a moment to cool off. “Then I guess we’re ready,” I said. I hadn’t done any riding since the previous summer, but I didn’t expect that I would have any difficulty. I learned how to ride a horse before I got my first tricycle. We all got mounted. I did manage to get aboard without help, even with all the extra weight.