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Sir Shane Est Ravn
The High Queen’s bodyguard
Part I
-Forget about Uher son-
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The crude but sturdy six meters in length stone table that had the huge map of the two continents carved on it, remained quiet for a while after the High King’s departure, but slowly the members of the Council and prominent people present started talking again. The topics a rehash of points that had been mentioned in front of King Antoon earlier. Sir Shane Est Ravn pushed with his legs and felt the high back chair against his spine over the armour. His eyes hurting from the heavy fumes of the many lit oil lamps, as he examined those present afore the imposing Wyvern’s Throne, the baleful but skillfully carved beast’s head rising behind the seat, its claws clasping at the gold stiles and the large wings opening up behind it.
Lord Treasurer, Mikel De Weer was sitting on his right shoulder, with his father Lord Anker to his left. Van Durren’s man and proxy, Sir Stefan Verbeek was sitting next to his father and Lord Sigurd Bach in his black robes next to Lord Mikel. High Inquisitor Kelholt on the other edge of the table than the one Antoon had occupied until recently. The commander of the Royal Guard Sir Kobus Van Eunen stood near the door rigid at the sudden summon to the King, but Sir Shane couldn’t see his face under the helm in the dimness of the White Tower’s ground floor.
Whilst massive in size the old square tower was still more a vault than a palace.
“So not even two thousand soldiers are ready to march?” His father asked Lord Sigurd Bach. Shane raised his head to listen, a little worried for his older brother Sir Thor that was leading the operation. His oldest brother Sir Marc was with the rest of the Second Foot in Riverdor recovering from the Battle of the Turncoats.
“More than two hundred casualties on the beach Lord Anker,” Lord Sigurd replied, the shady man looking at his scrolls. “Several drowned when the ice broke apart from the shelling. It was the force returning from the assault at the fort that seized their catapults and saved the landings.”
“You’re throwing shade at my son Lord Bach?” His father grunted not pleased. “What he’s accomplished is a feat worthy of lavish praise!”
“It’s a report Lord Anker,” Kaltha’s Master of Silence replied, keeping his voice steady. “Not an insult.”
“Is the port still working?” Lord Mikel asked and the two men broke off their staring contest to answer him.
“The port is ruined,” Lord Sigurd replied.
“The port is serviceable,” His father said.
Sir Shane sighed and prayed to Uher for a miracle.
“Can they move towards Raoz?” Archmagister Kelholt asked, his roughly sewn and pious woolen robes standing out amidst the more fancy dressed lords and knights present.
“The Cofols are retreating and we control the port,” His father replied. “The weather is opening up and the ice is melting. We can supply them with the fleet and reinforce them,” He paused at that with a grimace. “Unless that harlot in Regia decides to test us.”
“Riverdor is lacking the men Lord Anker,” Sir Verbeek reminded him. “We are still trying to reform the First Foot, but it is very difficult at this point. Lord Van Durren would also like for the Council to discuss the Lakelords conduct during the conference and their actions during the battle.”
“What actions?” Lord Anker scoffed at his words. “Lord Hoff went east instead of south citing confusion for crying out loud!”
“The Lord Shield wanted to draw attention to Lord Van Calcar’s conduct—”
“At least the man had a reason for not fighting!” His father interrupted him and seeing Sir Shane’s grimace of distaste at the Duke of Pascor’s behavior he added. “My son disagrees.”
“Stealing a lady from her home is hardly befitting a Lord,” Sir Shane replied evenly. “Nor is allowed by the words of Uher. We aren’t pirates, or cutthroats.”
“Young Shane is quite right,” Kelholt agreed. “Lord Van Calcar is a sinful man unbefitting his position.”
“Are you spying on the Realm’s lords now High Inquisitor?” Lord Mikel asked him.
“Uher’s Light sees all Lord Mikel,” Kelholt replied looking at him over the table with judging eyes.
And weights their souls against their deeds on the same scales.
“With two priests on our Council,” His father said with a thin smile. “This is bound to turn into a sermon gents.”
Sir Shane wasn’t of the same opinion, but commotion was heard from outside the throne room. Sir Kobus snapped his head back and went to open the door to investigate, as the hour was late. The moment he opened the doors Sir Shane heard the night-servant’s screams and the heavy boots running up the tower’s staircase. Every guard on the first floor was heading upstairs it seemed, whilst men were heard calling for a Dottore.
“The Queen?” His father asked getting up, just as Shane jumped on his feet as well. Everyone moving on the large table.
“Close the doors!” Yelled someone from the top of the stairs looking down. Sir Shane got out of the double doors and run towards the tower’s entrance. The guards had rushed upstairs and the single sentry left had collapsed on his face, the conned helm warped where it’d stricken the granite tiles. He reached over him amidst the chaos and made to help him upright, but realized a couple of things immediately.
Firstly the man had a dagger sticking out of the left side of his neck, the blood pooling around his head. Secondly there was a figure standing two meters away from him and next to the open outer doors, just about ready to slip outside into Issir’s Eagle Main Square built around the White Tower. The cloaked figure had a black hood on his, or her head and it was as if he’d just appeared out of nowhere, or out of the dark hall’s shades, because there was no one there when Sir Shane had first approached the entrance.
“You!” Shane barked and reached for his longsword. “GUARDS, OVER HERE!”
The figure made a backward step and then another going out of the gates with Sir Shane following right after it, his sword drawn. The night air cooled his sweaty face and the lights of the square danced for a moment in front of his eyes. The figure stopped and turned to face him, half a smile formed on a wicked mouth and pointed a finger somewhere over his left shoulder. Sir Shane glanced that way alarmed and saw another similarly dressed figure about thirty meters away aiming a crossbow at him.
Uher provide assistance, the young knight prayed and ducked instinctively, the nasty bolt whistling over his right ear. Sir Shane put a gloved hand down on the square’s rough stone tiles as he lost his footing for a moment, but managed to stabilize himself and stood upright quickly.
The second figure’s feet were heard as it slipped into one of the many alleys surrounding the square and the government buildings, whilst the smaller-bodied first assassin who was standing not even three meters from Sir Shane, just in front of the open space hugging the White Tower had simply vanished into thin air.
You don’t sent such a skilled assassin to murder the Queen, he thought with a shiver. When the King is in the same building.
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Lord Anker grabbed him by the arm and pulled him near to whisper in his ear, the moment he returned inside.
“How many of your Golden Spears are in the city?”
Sir Shane stared at his father surprised. The young knight was still too stunned at the events to follow Lord Anker’s logic.
“Sir Albert Kosters with a squad of thirty.”
“Bring them in,” Lord Anker ordered him.
“What did the High Inquisitor—?”
“Leave the Church out of it son,” Lord Anker stopped him. “This needs to be dealt with decisively.”
His tone ominous.
“What needs to be dealt with decisively father?” Sir Shane asked trying to stand back, but his father’s grip was steely.
“Bring them in, I’ll talk to the Archmagister. We need the numbers son,” Lord Anker cautioned him and let go of his arm.
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The mood had taken a turn for the worse as more details became known in the hour that had followed the attempt on the King’s life. Antoon had been gravely injured, but the Dottore had managed to remove the spear from his ribs and stabilize his condition. The armour he had on directed the steel tip away from his vital organs, but created a nasty gashing wound that was difficult for the physicians to patch up.
“The spear tip broke two of his ribs,” Sigurd was reporting. “But it’s the head injury that worries his Dottore the most. A piece of skull has detached and his brains are showing.”
Uher’s light shine upon him, Shane prayed, the news disturbing.
“What spear?” Lord Mikel spat. “They said it was a broomstick.”
“It was a spear disguised as one,” Sigurd replied sternly.
“An assassin escaped the premises after killing a guard,” Sir Verbeek said.
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“Two assassins,” Shane corrected him, his mouth bitter. “At least.”
“What about the head injury?” His father asked Sigurd. “Has the King said what happened?”
“The King isn’t talking Lord Anker,” Sigurd replied evenly.
“But he will right?” Lord Mikel asked wiping his face with a hankie. The Treasurer’s hands were shaking.
Lord Sigurd grimaced and sat down on his seat.
“Lord Sigurd?” His father asked him. “Can Antoon assume his duties?”
“The King is gravely injured Lord Anker,” Sigurd replied. “Unresponsive. I don’t… I can’t answer this query at this moment.”
“Who knows of the assault?” Sir Verbeek asked. “We need to stop this from spreading.”
“We can’t keep this contained,” Lord Sigurd said. “I’ll have word from my man about Regia’s intentions in a couple of days.”
What has Regia got to do with this? Surely he isn’t suggesting…
Sir Shane stared at his father and Lord Anker rubbed his eyes with a hand, the frown on his face remaining.
“The Duchess of Krakenhall has agreed to uphold the standing contracts for iron,” Lord Mikel said, a strange change in topic amidst the current crisis.
“The Duchess,” His father scoffed at his words, before he caught himself.
“The reports say she’s broken with the Jarl Lord Anker,” Sigurd elucidated.
“How do you know it’s not a ruse?” His father grunted.
“The Jarl’s forces haven’t entered Krakenhall is the word,” Sigurd replied. “Sir Lucius departed as well.”
“That Northern-loving traitor!” Lord Anker blasted him and Sigurd grimaced.
“There is evidence this is not the case—”
“You’ll defend him!”
“I merely state facts Lord Anker,” Sigurd replied. “Not dictating policy. This I leave to the King.”
“The King is incapacitated Lord Sigurd,” His father growled. “Leaving us with a ton of problems to deal with in his absence.”
“If the rumors are true,” Sigurd insisted. “Then the Duchess might not be a problem at this time.”
“What rumors?” Lord Mikel asked intrigued.
“She has an Issir lover and a child that isn’t a Lorian,” Sigurd said looking at him. “The Jarl will never accept it.”
“A bastard?”
“A mix-breed, she may legitimize it.”
“We can’t have a harlot ruling at Krakenhall!” Kelholt hissed striking the butt of his gold Staff on the stone tiles.
“If she stays out of my borders I can tolerate a sinner Kelholt,” Lord Anker admonished him with a glare. “This is politics and we’re at war.”
“You think Uher will forgive—”
“Uher can strike her down if he so wishes!” Lord Anker cut him off midsentence.
“Can Lord Shield take over until the King is up on his feet?” Lord Mikel asked unsure and Sir Shane caught Lord Sigurd’s expression before the man could hide it. He glanced towards his father and Lord Anker’s scowl told him, he’d caught it as well.
“My Lord is too unwell to make the journey,” Sir Verbeek reported what they all knew.
Uher help us, he prayed, seeing the implications.
The old Shield’s condition wasn’t the problem here.
Antoon isn’t going to make it, Shane thought with a shiver.
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“Where’s Sir Kosters?” Lord Anker asked, pulling him aside the moment the Council was over an hour later. The King’s condition unchanged and still critical.
“At the Northern gates,” Sir Shane reported. “I have ten men ‘reinforcing’ the tower’s guards at the entrance. Why?”
His father sighed deeply and looked at the dark hall outside the Throne room. Some of the Golden Spears were talking with the guards at the entrance of the tower. Many people still moving about despite the late hour.
“The Dottore said the Queen can move,” His father said in a hushed tone. Queen Nienke was heavily pregnant. “She will ask to see her husband, in case the worst comes to past.”
Sir Shane frowned.
“What’s this have…?” His father stopped him with a sign of his hand.
“I’ll recommend you to escort her out of her quarters,” Lord Anker replied. “Your honor is undisputable son.”
Shane stood back. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll bring her down the back stairs, through the tunnels and exit after the North Market near the Red Bridge.”
“You want to bring the Queen at the banks of Chinos River in her condition?” Shane queried, barely managing to keep his voice subdued.
“I want her over the bridge and on her way to Midlanor afore the sun is up,” His father explained looking at him. “This is important son. Birds are flying to Eplas even as we speak.”
Shane licked his dry lips.
“What’s there?” He croaked.
“Shane,” His father said and grabbed his arm. “Get the Queen out son. I will depart from the main entrance to create a diversion.”
“Kidnap her. This is against…”
“She knows what’s going on.”
“We should notify the other Lords. Seek permission—”
“Forget about Uher Shane and ‘other’ lords,” Lord Anker told him gravely. “This is politics. You’ve had enough time to indulge in your pious endeavors all those years, now it’s time to join the grownups son and do your bloody part. ”
“Father we can’t use the Order for this!” Shane argued anxiously.
“I fund your bloody order, hells I pay for all of Kelholt’s stupid schemes son,” His father admonished him. “If it makes you feel any better, then hear this. If Nienke isn’t out of this tower tonight, she won’t live to see another day. What’s your knightly honor say about that?”
“I shall protect the Queen father,” Shane said chastised.
“Whatever it takes,” Lord Anker rustled. “Don’t fail your family Shane.”
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Queen Nienke covered in a dark cloak, her white hair gathered at her nape, stared at him with fear in her eyes. She had both her hands over her belly, the bulge showing despite her clothes.
“Sir Shane,” She gasped. “I was expecting Sir Daemon.”
Sir Daemon Hand was Sir Kobus’ second in command in the Royal Guard. The third in rank being Sir Marcel Buld, but seeing as he was Princess Elsanne’s loyal guard for years, Antoon didn’t want him near his wife.
“He’s on campaign my Queen. We need to move,” Shane replied.
“Can I see my husband?” She asked him, following after his lead.
“I’m afraid you can’t,” He replied and turned to look at her. “We are short of time your grace.”
The Queen nodded and pressed her lips tightly.
“Will the ‘Priest Knight of Midlanor’ speak truthfully, Sir Shane?” She asked him shaking.
“Always my Queen,” Shane replied and ushered her behind the large statue of Reinut dominating the hallway outside her quarters. Shane grabbed an oil lamp from the wall, then pulled at the small lever behind its pedestal and waited for the hidden door to open fully.
“Is my husband going to live?” Nienke asked him and Shane paused at the small dark opening leading to the concealed staircase leading to the tunnels under the tower. His eyes rested on the lovely, but strained face of the High Queen of Kaltha, his heart heavy for her.
“He shall live through your child my Queen,” He replied and offered her his gloved hand. Nienke gulped down and reached to take it without a word.
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There was mold and heavy humidity inside the dark tunnels. Rats dashing away from them and the ground underfoot filthy with animal excrement mixed with mud. Spider webs and ominous silence dominating most of the long narrow path they had taken. Shane led the way, the place unfamiliar to him, but according to the instructions this tunnel was straightforward. It had one junction where the tunnel turned into two and he was to take the left one there to reach the Northern Market.
No one said anything and the Queen had to take frequent stops to rest, which made the two hour journey turn into a four hour slog. Shane knew he had to reach the market and the bridge afore the sun came up in order to have a chance to escape. The more he delayed inside the tunnels, the more time the guards would have to react to the Queen’s absence. Whatever the case may be, if he was caught at any point he’d have to fight his way out and then reach the bridge beyond the Northern Gates and its guards.
Sir Albert Kosters was tasked with neutralizing the threat there, but it wasn’t an easy assignment. Anything could go wrong and a stray patrol might slip through the loyal knight’s fingers.
Failure meant his head and it would probably end the same way even if he succeeded, as his father would still need to win the succession struggle that would soon follow. Of course in the event the Queen didn’t make it, or her child perished somehow, all this would be mute.
So Sir Shane stopped every time the Queen asked him for it.
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The end of the tunnel was a rusty iron door with a padlock that came off when he gave it a good kick. The door impossible to open at first, but he managed it giving it his all, just as panic started setting in. They reached the surface at the base of the walls of the city, the side facing the Chinos River. One of its branches was coming from the Smallake, the other crossed the Crimson Forest after coming down from Great White Mountain Range. The red-brick bridge over it was named Median, or Mid Bridge, but everyone was calling it ‘Red’ on account of its color. The Northern Gates were about a kilometer from the bridge and to their east. Shane intended to go straight for the bridge and wait for Sir Albert to appear afore the sun came up.
Escape without him if the knight failed to appear, using any means necessary.
Sir Shane hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but seeing as Uher always likened putting his subjects to the test, Sir Marcel Buld was waiting for him at the bridge. The three men with him wearing black robes and armed with long thin knives. The Knight of the Royal Guard, rich white mustache on his upper lip dancing, smiled thinly seeing him and stood back on his warhorse.
“Sir Shane Est Ravn,” He said in his baritone voice. “I expected someone less pious gallivanting in the dark of night with the Queen. I’m shocked sir. Why, the scandal shall ruin both yer reputations surely.”
Shane stood back, a hand keeping the breathing heavy Queen away, the other on the pommel of his longsword. The sky had turned a dark red color over their heads as the night was on its last legs.
“Sir Marcel, since when do you keep company with Oras disciples?” He asked him judgmentally.
The Knight snorted and reached for his heavy lance.
“The day he casted the Princess aside,” He said gravely. “People vowed to make things right.”
Are you serious?
“The Princess is shackled to a foreigner and thousands of miles away Sir Marcel!” Shane blasted him unsheathing his sword. “Don’t force my hand!”
“She’s next in line,” Sir Marcel replied cruelly. “The Realm can’t wait for what’s in there, Sir Shane. Give her up and no one will think less of you. The way I see it, no one will know.”
But I would, Shane thought and the Knight seeing it in his face kicked with his legs and started his horse going. They were ten meters apart, so not enough time for a full charge, but you don’t need it to skewer a man with the long lance, he thought and stepped away from a screaming Nienke, one eye on the onrushing horse and the other on the three thugs Lord Sigurd had sent to do the dirty deed.
Sir Shane had never killed a man in his one and twenty years, but if he wanted to save the pregnant High Queen, he would have to kill four in a day.
At least.