SIX
THE RELUCTANT KNIGHT
“What in the name of the Gods is that?” Krystos demanded, pointing in awe at the round, opaque sphere hovering in front of Leonado. He’d entered his quarters to speak to the sorcerer to try and make up after their last quarrel.
All they seemed to be doing lately was fighting. If it wasn’t about how to distribute their new found wealth, they argued about their lackluster love life. Leonado didn’t seem to understand that whenever he used Darkfire, his lust was sated, and he had no need to relieve himself with his lover. In the back of his mind, he knew the sword was unnatural, but he was bound to it now, the need to kill a part of him.
“A spy glass of sorts,” Leonado answered listlessly. He was still hurt over the sword’s preferance for Krystos, but now it had little to do with his own desire to possess it, for he knew it possessed Krystos. The captain was changing. He seemed to have become a shell of his former self, the vibrant, sensual man now only obsessed with blood lust.
“And who do ye spy on through it?” Krystos asked in a bored tone.
“All manner of things. But tonight I think I might spy on my father.”
“You have a father?” Krystos asked in surprise, the first sign of emotion Leonado had seen him show in a long time
“Yes, I have a father.” And I wish I’d never left him for Dragonfire, he added mentally. His dark teacher seemed to be twisting him into something else as surely as the sword had changed Krystos. It was growing increasingly more difficult to keep his own self separate from Dragonfire. He felt as though he had done a deal with the demon God himself, Serpon the thief of souls.
“May I see him?” Krystos asked, slipping an arm around Leonado’s slender shoulders.
“If ye will.” Leonado placed his hands against the cool, opaque glass, and whispered the incantation to draw forth the image he sought. Colours began to swirl within the sphere, forming a darkened room. Leonado leaned closer, and a man dressed entirely in black wondered past his field of vision.
“Oh father!” he sighed as the man turned around. The old familiar face seemed to be peering back at him, but Leonado knew Lorenso had no idea he was spying on him. The magic Dragonfire had taught him was completely different to that which his father practiced. Drawing on the power of Serpon, it flowing quicker and with greater power than the complicated spells Lorenso had to remember. Leonado knew that Makim’s magic could be equally as powerful as Serpon’s, but it took many years of training to learn how to harness Her power. Now, as he looked upon his father’s sad face, he wished he’d taken that time.
It’s too late, young Leonado, Dragonfire hissed inside his mind. I have you now. Your father is the enemy. He and his kind must be destroyed.
No! Never! Leonado protested, as the dark, cloying pressure of Dragonfire pressed down against his mind.
You think you can fight me. I’ve led you to believe that till now. But I think the time has come to show you the full extent of my power.
Darkfire’s mental talons bit into his consciousness, sending excruciating knives of agony slicing through Leonado’s head.
You’re mine, Leonado. Mine till the day you die.
Stop it, he wailed. Stop it! Please! I’ll do as you say. Just stop the pain!
Good boy. You’re doing well. Soon we’ll be together in body as well as in mind.
Leonado shuddered, dreading that day.
Many months passed before Alecsis met Jenkano’s brother. It seemed almost as though Lorenso had no wish to meet Alecsis. He never summoned him, even though Alecsis knew he’d been informed of his arrival in Scarthe. Eventually Alecsis took matters into his own hands. It took a while to discover the whereabouts of Lorenso’s chambers. Few people seemed to know where he cloistered himself.
When Alecsis did eventually find out he was reluctant to pay him a visit, for the mage lived directly above the dungeon. In memory of Jenkano he journeyed down the winding stone stairs to the heavy wooden doors that hid Lorenso’s domain. There he knocked, calling the old mage’s name. He went several times, but no sound emitted from behind the heavy oak paneling. Had Jenkano sent him all this way for nothing?
The endless skirmishes in the provinces around Scarthe soon proved him wrong on that front. Alecsis spent most of his early months on the road, helping Sir Sumon break up smuggling rings and arresting highwaymen who sought to rob and murder travelers.
The king had been very specific in his orders; kill on sight anyone spotted acting illegally, but Alecsis soon realized that hunger and destitution caused the bandits to behave as they did. Capturing them and having them thrown in prison actually ensured they were fed and clothed. Once they realized this they usually gave themselves up. Few soldiers were prepared to kill a surrendering man. Avoiding bloodshed made sense, and before long, Alecsis was placed in charge of his own platoon.
“Didn’t I tell ye, ye’d do well,” Antano remarked one afternoon as they rode back to Scarthe after another successful mission. This one had been particularly harrowing, making Alecsis realize that he was being given more difficult jobs as time went by.
Alecsis glanced at the youth riding beside him. The boy actually looked contented, but the smile this drew to Alecsis’s lips was a wry one. Who would have thought someone so young would take so well to warring? Antano rode into battle without fear or qualm. He still had a lot to learn, and yet he leapt into the fry, risking life and limb with his erratic fighting style. Alecsis marveled that he was still alive. It seemed that every highwayman and bandit was guilty of his father’s death.
“I’m merely doing my job, Tano,” he replied wearily. “Although I didn’t anticipate that I’d be spending all my time on the road. Surely there can’t be many rogues left in those hills.” He motioned up at the Mirion ranges surrounding them.
“Methinks that we’ll be marching on Enan to talk some sense into a few merchants next.”
Alecsis sighed. “They holding up shipments again? I thought Sir Sumon came to an arrangement with them.”
“It seems they get greedier still. The more we give, the more they want. I believe this time the king won’t negotiate.”
Alecsis slanted another glance at the youth. “How do you know so much, my young friend? Ye ought to be sleeping, not listening to late night gossip. That’s where ye heard it, no? From drunken soldiers.”
“Tis better to be armed with knowledge than without,” the lad answered blandly.
“Ye’re too young for such talk.”
‘And ye’re too young to tall me what to do. Ye’re barely eighteen, although ye might look like a man of twenty.”
“I’m your friend, Tano, and only trying to help.”
“You can help by not trying to act like me father. He’s gone, and there’s naught who can take his place.” He jammed his spurs into his mount’s flanks, making the horse spring forward. Alecsis called after him, but the lad ignored him, soon surrounded by a group of men riding ahead of them.
Alecsis groaned out loud. The boy was hurting, but Alecsis feared Antano’s charmed life in battle would come to a painful end before he realized what he was doing. Surely trying to avenge his father’s death this way caused him more grief than admitting his loss.
They rode into Scarthe at dusk, entering the castle gates in time for supper. After eating his fill, Alecsis left his companions to boast and brag of their latest success. He trudged across the damp grass, his legs weary from long days in the saddle.
It had surprised him at first when Sir Sumon arranged for Alecsis to have his own quarters. Only the knights and their squires lived in the keep. The soldiers had separate barracks in a wooden building not far from the kitchens. Now he was grateful for the peace and quiet of his own room. It wasn’t large and contained no more than a bed, a table and two high-backed chairs. A curtained closet took up one corner, and in the other Alecsis dropped his sword and armour. A small window overlooked the kitchen gardens. The few times he had been able to sleep in without a mission to occupy his mind, he’d stood there watching the kitchen maids tending the vegetables in the sun, their tinkling laughter like salve to his war-torn ears. The sight of their simple, uncomplicated lives made him question his own existence.
Not that he didn’t already doubt his ability to continue as the king’s war-machine. He knew why he had been chosen for this kind of work. The very sight of him instilled fear in the king’s enemies. Unfortunately it did the same to the common folk of Scarthe.
Antano wasn’t backward in coming forward with gossip about him. Antano seemed to think he’d find it amusing, but Alecsis longed to walk down the street like everyone else, incurring admiring glances instead of fearful ones. To have a young woman look upon him as a potential lover instead of the barbarian from the jungle would have made a pleasant change.
Tonight nothing stirred in the kitchen gardens. Stars glittered down upon the dark earth, not a cloud marring the night sky. Alecsis turned away from the sight. He considered asking for a bath and hot water, but weariness soon saw him changing into his robe and crawling into bed.
No doubt Antano was still up rallying with the men. He hadn’t wanted quarters in the keep, preferring to remain in the barracks. Alecsis couldn’t really blame him. Antano was a sociable person. He craved company. It set Alecsis to wondering about his own personality, but along with his memory, it seemed lost at sea. Was it the life he now led shaping his quiet reticence, or had he always been a loner? What had sent him journeying across the Noiva in the first place? Where were his family? Did they miss him? Of course he received no answers. Pondering such matters only seemed to fuel his loneliness.
Despite his inability to fall asleep, a loud knocking on his door startled him out of bed.
“Who is it?” he called, padding across the flags in his bare feet.
“Sir Sumon.”
Alecsis groaned, conscious of wearing nothing more than his robe. “One moment,” he called, scrambling into a pair of crumpled breeches. Why would the first knight summon him now? Surely he couldn’t mean for him to set out on a mission at this time of the night. Alecsis picked up the candle which he’d set down on the stand beside his bed and relit those on the table.
Then he hurried to the door and unbolted it. “Sorry to take so long sir, but I was already abed.”
The middle-aged knight grinned, white teeth flashing. “I can see that. Sorry to disturb you, but ye have a visitor who doesn’t keep the same hours as us mere mortals.”
For the first time Alecsis noticed the individual behind the knight. Even in the dim light of the hallway he needed no introduction. The long black robe belted at the waist, the gray hair swept back into a long braid, and the pinched, lined face, were all too similar to Jenkano’s.
“Lorenso,” Alecsis breathed, his heartbeat suddenly thundering in his ears. He had all but given up on ever meeting Jenkano’s brother.
The old magician neither smiled nor uttered a welcome. He merely swept into the room, letting the door slam shut in Sir Sumon’s face. He never touched the handle, and Alecsis knew he’d closed it with the will of his mind. Sitting down at the table, he motioned Alecsis forward.
“Stop standing there gaping boy and join me.”
Alecsis sank down into the remaining chair on the other side of the table, his trembling knees no longer able to support him. He had never really been in awe of Jenkano, but Lorenso inspired instant respect. Alecsis realised why the mage rarely ventured out. People looked upon him with the same fear that dogged Alecsis’s heels.
Lorenso reached out and waved his hand over the candles, lifting the flames with an invisible thread of magic. When he drew his fingers away, they remained at twice their natural height, illuminating the room as though it was daylight. Alecsis blinked, rubbing his eyes, stunned at the power within the old man.
“Lean closer boy and let me have a good look at you.”
Alecsis did as he bade, resting his arms on the table as he brought his face closer to the heat of the flames. He endured the scrutiny of the mage as he’d borne the stares of curious onlookers many times before.
“My brother saw magic in those pale eyes,” Lorenso remarked, sitting hack in his chair. “A child from another world with mageblood in his veins, he said... Pity the king saw ye first. He’s been keeping you busy indeed. All I see is weariness, far too much weariness for someone so young… Ye’re not content fighting the king’s battles, are you?”
Knowing how Jenkano could read his thoughts, Alecsis suspected his brother could do the same, and merely nodded.
“You got a tongue boy?”
“Aye sir,” Alecsis answered.
“Would you like to work for me?”
“I - ” Alecsis faltered. He wasn’t sure he liked Lorenso. He was as abrupt and to the point as his brother, but there was a coldness about him, an aura of contempt for human frailties.
“Ye’ll never take my son’s place.”
“You have a son?” Alecsis gasped.
“Had,” the old magician snapped. Suddenly his entire face changed. The aloofness slipped from his features, and a deep sadness touched every line. It radiated from his deep-set eyes, but he soon composed himself, pulling back on the stern visage he had walked into the room with.
“The lad ran away many moons ago. I have not seen him since.”
“And ye want me to find him for you,” Alecsis deduced.
“Nay. He is lost to me.” Again, that look of sadness, there one moment, gone the next. “You want to learn magic and I’m prepared to be yer teacher… Well, do ye wish to learn the art of spell-binding?”
“Will the king allow it?”
“That I shall have to negotiate. My son was a flighty child, not ready for the enormous responsibilities associated with spell-binding. Ye’ll have to work hard, very hard.”
“I’m not afeared of hard work.”
Suddenly the old man grinned. “I have no doubt on that point. Whoever ye are, Alecsis from beyond the sea, ye’re disciplined and dedicated. Thank the gods they brought you to me ‘ere ‘tis too late.” With that he stood.
“What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”
“A great deal, I believe. A great deal indeed, and ye’ll be in the midst of it, fair stranger.”
He swept form the room as quickly as he’d entered, leaving his distinctive aura behind. Alecsis turned back to the tall flames still illuminating the room. To be able to do something like that, he marveled. The thought of achieving such a feat made a shiver of delight sweep through his body.
Alecsis went to sleep that night dreaming of enchantments. He changed the colour of his skin and hair. People gaped at his cleverness. Women no longer feared him. Instead of turning away, they came to him, wanting him… loving him…
When he woke, reality wasn’t as forgiving. He returned to his duties, and hoped to be summoned by the palace magician any moment.
As the days slipped into weeks, and weeks into months, Alecsis wondered what had gone wrong. Had the king had his way, or did the mage change his mind? Alecsis eventually learned the truth, when Sir Sumon told him that he’d recommended Alecsis for a knighood.
“Ye’re the best soldier this army has ever seen. Ye might be young, but such bravery and skill deserves a reward,” the first knight said as they rode back to Scarthe after annexing Enan. The merchants had proved a tenacious lot. Many lives had been lost that day, but the end result had been worth it. Cloth and leather would flow between Enan and Scarthe once more.
Alecsis knew he should be happy, or at least honoured, but he preferred to sit in a quiet chamber learning magic, than participating in royal parades and banquets. A knight was always visible, always on show. Alecsis didn’t think he could bear the scrutiny of the entire court.
That night, Lorenso finally came to him, looking old and weary.
“I tried,” he began without preamble. He carried a small sack in one hand, which he dropped on the table, making its contents clank together. “But my king’s needs must come first.”
With a loud sigh he sat down at the table. ‘What battles remain?’ I asked of him. ‘Alecsis hath done his duty. He’s defeated your foes, ended the skirmishes and smuggling.’ O’ course he would not answer me, dismissing me like some common pauper. What more does he want of you, I asked myself… It wasn’t until tonight that I realised ‘tis I he wishes to punish.”
Bitterness lined his face. “King Rostan believes he no longer requires a spell-binder. All I am to him is a glorified healer. He sees no need for a successor of my line.”
Alecsis leaned forward to offer sympathy, but Lorenso held up a gnarled hand. “Let me finish. Let him knight you. It shan’t be forever. A time will come when he no longer has need for either of us. Then we shall follow our own destiny.”
“Ye mentioned something like that before. What do you mean?” Alecsis asked.
But Lorenso stood. “Bide yer time boy, as shall I… But for now…” He tipped the contents of the sack onto the table. A jeweled belt and fine silver dagger spilled forth.
“I know ye fight well, but let these aid you in battle. The knife will ensure ye never go hungry. With it you can slice a kill till there’s enough for everyone. The Belt.” He held it up. Alecsis thought it a rather ostentatious affair. The gold links were interspersed with precious stones of various colours. The three at the front were twice as large as any of the others. It would have looked fine encircling a pretty maiden’s waist. “Each gemstone has a different function. Merely touch the one you require, and your own mageblood will do the rest.” He turned to leave.
“Aren’t you going to show me how it works?”
“Ye’ll soon grow accustomed to it. Only don’t practice indoors.” With that he swept from the room, once again leaving Alecsis gaping after him.
Princess Karina remained seated at her turret window long after the soldiers had marched through the barbican. With an unrestricted view of the castle grounds, town, surrounding fields and mountains, she often spent hours on end her window seat.
That was how she lived her life, observing the actions of others.
She watched the townspeople going about their business, wondering what their lives were like. On seeing the farmers tending the fields with their horses and ploughs, she longed for a purpose such as theirs. Growing crops seemed a much more worthwhile endeavor than sitting in a tower letting decisions be made for her.
Perhaps if she’d had a mother things may have been different, but the queen had died giving birth to Toran, her youngest brother. Karina had no recollection of her mother. Boran, her older brother, could tell her little more about Queen Darna, even though he was the only sibling old enough to remember her. Her father would tell her nothing either. King Rostan lived for the moment; he had no desire in recollecting the past, even if it included a wife he must have once loved. These days he seemed to be with a different woman every night of the week, and his sons had developed the same lack of respect for the fairer sex.
Sometimes Karina hated her existence with a vengeance. She was a pampered princess, with nothing more to occupy her mind than what she should wear each day. And yet she longed for a different life, with more at stake than the alliance the king would make when the time came to find her a suitable husband.
She could wonder the keep at will, but when she wanted to enter the town, not only did she have to be accompanied by her maid, but at least two of the king’s guardsmen.
Everyone knew who she was. She could never amble freely among the stalls, or ride into the hills simply for the sake of it. And neither could he, she realised, the man she had been waiting all day to see.
On hearing the news that the soldiers had at last broken up the stalemate between the merchants’ guild and the traders, Karina had waited for a glimpse of the foreigner they called Alecsis.
She hadn’t been disappointed. Like the first time she’d seen him, he stood out like the moon on a clear night, his magnificent white stallion a perfect compliment to his fair complexion and flowing yellow hair.
Karina had stared, her mind once more trying to capture his image for her easel, but every time she started sketching, she knew drawing from memory would never be enough. She had to see him close up to recreate the essence of his spirit, his personality.
Karina tried to discover as much as she could about Alecsis. There were rumours of course. Her maid, Nira, was only too happy to fill her in on the latest gossip. “They say never to look directly into his strange eyes, for fear of being cursed with the same fading disease he suffers from.”
Karina had laughed so hard her sides ached. Being as pale as a marble statue, with hair to colour of corn-leaves wasn’t a curse as far as she could see.
“They say he has powers over and above the magic items he carries into battle with him,” Nira had said other day.
Karina suspected there was probably some truth in that. From Lorenso she’d learned that the young man had spent many months with the magician’s brother, nursing him in his final days. To show his appreciation, Lorenso had bestowed Alecsis with several enchanted artifacts to aid him in battle.
Despite the old wizard’s cantankerousness, Karina enjoyed watching him mix and boil his strange concoctions. No doubt he was as lonely in his dingy laboratory as she was in her lofty tower.
When not with Lorenso, she read, sketched, and dreamed of the world beyond the Mirion Ranges. More and more she longed to meet the one man who knew what lay across the Noiva.
She got her wish later that night as she sat beside her father in the great hall enduring yet another flood of potential suitors vying for her attention. After dancing with several of the young noblemen her father had invited from surrounding provinces, she tried to sneak from the hall, but an announcement brought her to an abrupt halt.
“Tomorrow, I will welcome a very unique man to my elite corps,” the king boomed from his thorne. “He may be different, but this difference has made him special. Few can boast the strength of Alecsis from beyond. Few have won as many battles as he. Our next banquet will include a new knight. I hope everyone will make him feel welcome.”
Karina felt her heartbeat quicken and her face flush with heat. She would see him up close at last. She might even get to talk to him. Karina spun and hurried from the hall, her heart doing summersaults of anticipation.
The following afternoon she took her place on the dais behind her father’s throne. She had never spent so much time fussing about her appearance as today, making her maid wonder what was wrong with her. From the rumours Karina suspected most women feared Alecsis, Nira included. They liked to gossip and tell tales, but few made the effort to find out what he was really like.
Seated between her two brothers on her satin stool, Karina watched in fascination as he entered through the heavy double doors of the throne room.
Flanked by two of the king’s officials, he started down the gold walk, his soft, burgundy boots barely making a sound on the shimmering floor.
Close up, he seemed even more imposing than he had from her window. He wore a smart dark blue tunic, and the pale hair had been tied back at the nape with a matching ribbon. He came to a halt, and dropped to one knee on the dais before her father.
Karina watched her father raise The Holy Avenger, a sword everyone in court knew possessed the ability to heal and to destroy, to sense evil and repel. It had been passed down from generation to generation, remaining as pure as the day it was created.
Until now only the King had used it, and certainly not for bestowing knighthoods. Alecsis must be a very special man indeed. The blade started to glow as it touched the kneeling man’s shoulder, and blue sparks erupted when King Rostan drew it away. Alecsis didn’t even flinch, keeping his eyes downcast.
When he glanced up, he looked directly at Karina. His features were square and angular, but his softly-curved mouth was at odds with the rest of his face. His eyes were softer still, with no trace of the coldness rumoured to curse the unsuspecting. To Karina they looked like liquid green pools bathed in morning sunshine. She couldn’t help sighing, drawing her brothers’ attention.
Boran leant towards her, a smirk playing about his full lips. His dark eyes crinkled knowingly. Years of good food and wine had given him a perpetually flushed appearance. He always looked as though he had been exerting himself, although the only exercise he ever received was in the bedchamber. His bejeweled robes failed to hide his already overweight figure. Like her, he wore his ceremonial crown, his short black hair sticking haphazardly through its gold links.
“What is it, little sister? Can it be that you actually find that uncivilised beast handsome?”
“I think it more the rumours that make him out as uncivilised,” Karina answered, meeting Boran’s sly gaze.
“Nobody knows his true origins,” he told her. “They say he came out of the jungle clad in naught more than rags, unable to even communicate his most basic needs.”
“He came to us from another land, his vessel lost to the Noiva,” Karina protested.
“If ye believe that, ye’re a gullible fool,” Boran sneered. “There is no land across the ocean. Only Avion and Noiva, land and sea, sister and brother. Even a child knows that.”
“Then what of his lack of colouring?” Karina demanded, already suspecting Boran had developed a theory about this as well.
“The lack of sunlight in the jungle failed to colour his hair and skin. His strength heralds from years of living like a savage. Beneath those fine clothes lives a wild beast waiting to betray us. That father is actually going through with this shows he’s becoming too old to rule.”
“Wash out your mouth!” Karina shot back. King Rostan was only forty-five. Although he looked his age, he had a good many years in him yet. Unfortunately she knew the real reason behind Boran’s comment. He wanted to take over, reap the glory without the hard work ruling a kingdom entailed.
“I swear ye have designs on the blonde brute,” Boran laughed, and Toran joined in. He found anything his older brother said amusing. Karina cursed his sudden insight. Did she really have designs on Alecsis? Surely not! How could she feel anything for him when every other man she’d ever met left her cold?
She watched Alecsis rise, and her father pointed The Holy Avenger to the ground. The sword’s point grazed the tiles, setting off another shower of magical sparks. Rostan stood with his hands around the hilt, and the newly anointed knight reached out and placed his around the king’s. The sword glowed bright blue, the colour associated with Fortis, the God of Strength.
Finally Rostan welcomed Sir Alecsis into the ranks of his elite corps, speaking in the ancient tongue now only used at official and religious ceremonies. Not even Karina knew all the words, and she was certain Boran had never bothered to learn them. The blank look mingling with his barely controlled hatred told her as much.
The king withdrew his hands from the sword, leaving Sir Alecsis to raise it to the flame of power that had been burning for centuries beside the throne’s dais. As fire licked the blade, it shone bright yellow, the colour associated with Lorin, the Goddess of Love and Hope.
“I’ve no doubt you were expecting it to turn Serpon’s colour and damn him,” Karina couldn’t help imparting to Boran.
“Father can’t mean for him to keep The Holy Avenger,” Boran remarked, as Sir Alecsis withdrew the blade from the flame.
“I think he does,” Toran answered, as the knight sheathed the sword in the scabbard attached to his gold belt.
Outrage darkened Boran’s plump face. He turned a livid shade of scarlet. “That sword should have come to me!” he spat, jumping to his feet. Karina tried to grab hold of his hand to resrain him, but he hurried forward, stopping at his father’s side. “What is the meaning of this? The Holy Avenger belongs to the royal family. What dost thou think ye’re doing?”
Never before had Karina seen the King look upon his son with such disdain. Had he finally come to realise what a spineless wimp he was? “The Gods have spoken to Lorenso. They told him that the time has come for the sword to do Makim’s work.”
“That wizened old fool!” Boran snapped. “What would he know? He can’t even cast a fireball to light a campfire.”
“He might be old, but he still has the power of Makim behind him.”
“Makim, Goddess of make believe,” Boran spat.
The king pointed towards the doors. “You will leave - now! Later we will discuss your insolence.”
Boran didn’t move.
“Go!” Rostan bellowed. “Or I swear I will disinherit you!”
“You can’t do that!” Boran spluttered.
“I can and I will, if you don’t leave this chamber immediately.”
With a colourful swirl of his ceremonial robes, the young prince stormed past his father, but he did not leave straight away. He stopped in front of Alecsis. The new knight’s pale face seemed to have grown even paler as he watched the irate prince, his mouth a thin line of tension.
“Ye’ll regret whatever sorcery ye’ve wielded over my father, Sir Alecsis,” he snarled. Then he was gone, his boots clicking loudly on the marble tiles.
Boran’s antipathy towards Alecsis continued to deepen, particularly when Alecsis took Sir Sumon’s place several months later.
The First Knight retired after falling from his horse during a training session, and could no longer walk without the aid of a cane. Every royal function became a strain due to Boran’s treatment of the young warrior.
As she endured the long, tedious meals in the Great Hall, Karina watched out for Alecsis, but after the food was taken away, and the floor cleared for entertainment, he melted into the shadows. Even though she only ever saw him across a crowded room, he filled her thoughts, as she wondered what kind of world he heralded from.
Was there really a land beyond the Noiva?
Who was he really?
Somehow she would have to find the courage to approach him, find the answers herself.
When she finally did get the opportunity to speak to him, all her senses deserted her, and she stood rooted to the spot, staring in amazement as he deftly climbed over the wall into her private garden.
Karina didn’t come here much these days, finding it too much like a prison. The flowers were wilting in their pots, and leaves clogged the fountain. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen this place, thinking no-one ever came here.
She stopped behind a large pillar, peering around it at him. The way he casually slipped the shirt over his head showed that he had been here before. Karina stared in amazement at the wide expanse of chest as he stretched his muscular arms over his head. Karina had seen the men-at-arms practicing sword-play clad in naught more than their breeches, but never had she seen a man built like this one.
No wonder they all feared him. The way he unsheathed the sword at his side with a loud shing of metal against metal sent a great shiver rocketing through her. It wasn’t The Holy Avenger, merely a ordinary blade he used for practice, but his stance inspired awe and wonder.
She remained hidden behind her pillar, watching him go through his exercises. He seemed so graceful despire his size. His long, muscular legs lifted him high into the air as he jumped over benches and ducked around invisible foes. His skin soon grew damp with perspiration as he practiced, and Karina forgot all time and place as she watched her work of art in action.
When he’d had enough, he headed for the fountain, thrusting his face under its spray to drink, sluicing water down his heated body.
Reason returned at the sound of panting and claws scraping against tiles behind her. The dog that had accompanied Alecsis on his journey darted past her.
“Mageye!” she called him back, but he scampered over to his master. Karina groaned out loud as Alecsis spun towards the sound of her voice.
“Show yourself!” he demanded, grabbing his sword.
Karina stepped away from her pillar, and stumbled on unsteady feet into the courtyard. For a moment she felt like a snared rabbit flushed out of its hiding place. But as she gaped as him, he did the same to her, recognition dawning.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing before her. When Avionan men blushed it was barely noticeable under their dark skin, but Alecsis’s entire face turned a bright shade of red.
Karina couldn’t believe that the bravest warrior of them all could blush so profusely, and a mantle of her royal composure returned. “What do you here, Sir Knight? This is a private garden, reserved for the use of her royal Highness.”
“I – I do apologise. I – I had no idea,” he stammered, lowering his head. Blonde hair tumbled forward to obscure his face. “I will remove myself from your presence immediately.”
Karina took another step forward, bumping into the dog that had settled at her feet. He merely looked up at her with amused eyes. As she righted herself, Alecsis sprung over the wall, disappearing from view.
“Wait!” she called, but when she reached the wall, he had disappeared. She scanned the grounds, but he was gone, vanishing as magically as Lorenso himself.
“Damn!” she cursed like a man, turning away in irritation.
Then she noticed the crumpled white cloth on the seat by the fountain. Karina scooped it up and crushed it against her chest. Well, she thought burying her face in his shirt, if you want it back, you know where to come. His masculine scent overwhelmed her, and she knew in that instant Boran had been right.