V

King Branlin strode through his throne room with a water canister in his left hand. He was watering his precious Terivelian flowers, a rare breed that emitted magical pollen. It wasn’t that he used the magic himself, but the flowers were so exceedingly rare and beautiful, he found in them a hobby that he quite enjoyed.

At thirty and three, it would soon be time for him to find a queen. That he had not yet done so was highly out of the ordinary. In this era of a recovering world from the Age of Darkness, kings and queens married young to form alliances with neighboring kingdoms to solidify their defenses.

But things were changing. Things had been changing for decades, centuries even. And now at his decree, the Age of Readventure was upon them.

He tipped his water canister as he watered another of his plants. These were the shade ferns otherwise known as Dancing Ferns for the reason that the stems and their leaves swayed slightly due to no recourse from the wind. The ferns were necessary for the flowers, which needed constant sunlight in a partial light environment. The movement of the ferns created an atmosphere necessary for the Terivelians, which had arcing pedals so delicate they were positively diaphanous. But without regular, yet filtered sunlight, the flowers wilted and died.

Flanking Branlin was his court of advisors, lords, ladies and other hangers-on, and of course, their own hangers-on. The event, the Age or Readventure Festival, a new yearly celebration that he decreed would hence forth commence and was to be the most spectacular celebratory event—and call to arms—in centuries.

“I want games,” he said. “Martial games—jousting, swords, line-fighting for the common soldiers. I want monster shows. And I want games for the ladies at court and the commoner alike.”

“But my lord,” Jasier said, “we have no such games.”

“Then invent them!” he snapped. “This celebration must be perfect. It must needs encourage visiting dignitaries and nobles to go back to their own kingdoms to speak about what they saw—what they participated in. Kings and queens will look on us with envy and a want to emulate.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Branlin looked up into the golden rays of light coming in through the throne chamber’s windows. Dust motes swirled down to the floor. Sheer drapes had been hung from the windows to defuse the sunlight. Every so often Branlin had his gardeners bring in the trellis tables and his flowers brought in like he had today. He did not like to be stared at. An odd thing for a king, but ever since he was a child he detested onlookers gawking at him—even if they were of his own court. Instead he liked to busy himself as he held court. For some reason he felt more comfortable.

Enough of these short-sighted fools in his court were probably sniggering at him even now.

“How many of the adventurer guilds do you want to send invitations to for the festivities, Majesty?” It was Lady Ellen speaking now. “We’ve already sent out invitations to the most prestigious guilds such as the Finders, the Kirivens, the Roaming Lions and House Desryn.”

Branlin turned to regard her. “More.”

“More?”

“Yes,” he said. “Send invitation to all of them.”

“But Majesty,” Jasier said, “half the kingdom will arrive.”

“Then half the kingdom will arrive! I want festivities on every street. I want the city gates of Aevalin open and a blue silk runner leading to the palace with pinions flying.”

The price of such a runner alone would be hefty. The court was aghast.

“I am not speaking in hyperbole,” he continued. “Make it happen.” Then he gestured to the entire court with an accusative finger. “All of you. Work together. This will be the most momentous occasion Aevalin has ever seen. It will rival and dwarf the clamor of the usurper Balthazar and the Grand Bastard.”

“Your Majesty,” Jasier said with a smile befitting mild condescension, “this endeavor… the cost—“

Branlin interrupted the weasel. “It will happen! Or I will have you held personally responsible for its failure. Do you understand me?”

He gaped. “Majesty, I—“

“No more words,” Branlin commanded. “You know what I want. What I expect. Now. All of you. Leave me. There will be no more discussion to thwart my aims for this new festival. Out!”

The court coalesced into an orderly filing and left the throne chamber. Branlin went back to work with his flowers. He wanted them in pristine condition for the festivities. They were to be placed in various positions throughout the chamber as a show of superiority and careful planning to the other monarchs.

Someone was disobeying his command to leave the throne chamber.

“I can feel you watching me,” Branlin said.

She walked up behind him. “Oh, Branlin,”Neslyn said.

He didn’t turn to address the princess. “What?”

“You have ever been a demanding sibling, haven’t you?”

He smirked, but didn’t turn to let her see it as he continued with his Terivelians. He took hold of the tiny silver pitchfork and stabbed it into the soft soil the particular flower in front of him was planted in. He moved the pitch fork about, loosening the soil so the roots could breathe and absorb more water.

“The kingdoms are recovering,” he said, “but without resurgence, without a push of nations with Aevalin at its head, it will take another thousand years for the world to heal from this curse of dark magic and monsters.”

“And you think this festival you have planned will change that?”

“No,” he said, firm in his belief that what he was telling his sister was in the right, most profoundly so. “The Age of Readventure will do this. The festival is an aggrandizement of our monumental efforts, a feat the world has not seen in a thousand years. We must reinvent this kingdom—our thinking.” He turned to her. “At the festival, I intend to reveal my list of new titles.”

“Your new titles, brother?”

“Not my titles, but new titles for our age.”

Her eyebrows rose and her hands disentangled themselves at her waist. “Is that so? Pray tell what these titles are?”

“I will tell you just one,” he said. Then he paused. Finally he said, “Knight Adventurer.”

“How original.”

“Don’t mock me, sister.”

She sighed deeply, as if she were simply entertaining a fanciful whim. “But we have knights, and we have adventuring knights.”

“It is not a title,” he said. “These Knight Adventurers’ single purpose will be to hunt and destroy evil—they will hunt dark magic and slay monsters and they will gain recognition and prestige for doing so. A new class of knight, not loyal to any one kingdom, but to the world. To the Age of Readventure.”

“I suppose it’s not so bad. But have you thought up any other advantages that these knights can prevail upon?”

“Land.”

“Land?”

“Whatever they so cleanse of this world, will be theirs.”

“Really,” she said, surprised.

“Yes.”

“Will you not be building a new ruling class of land owners?”

“Better to build a new ruling class than to live in a world plagues by fell intentions. Besides, my Knight Adventurers will not only come from a single class, but all classes. Aevalin will be enriched—our lands expanded back to whence they were before the Grand Bastard and beyond.”

“Quite ambitious.”

“Yes,” he said. “Will you support me, sister?”

She took pause. Then she smiled. “You know I always support my brother the king. Your vision will be manifest. I swear it. The future will see you as a great leader of men, I have no doubt in my mind. The gods will recognize you, even.”

“I do not seek fame or recognition by the gods, but a revival of the world. I want my Age of Readeventure to be known far and wide a hundred—no thousand years from now.”

“And the people think Aevalin as a legend even now.”

He smiled. “But a seed, my sister. She is now but a seed in a field of soil, ripe for planting a world tree.”

She smiled. It was the smile of avarice, of ambition, but mostly of pride. Now all he needed was a queen to help him fulfill his vision. She would need to be from a strong nation.

The Minstrel’s Dagger moved briskly in the waters toward their destination—the island of Norr, which was a small, out of the way landmass mostly hidden from the world. Or so Dantera had said.

Yoreno stood on the prow of the ship, looking out into the fog with his friends. “It’s exciting,” Mai said. “This is the first trip aboard the ship I’ve been on, you know?”

“I think you told me before,” Yoreno said.

“I’ve been on lots of ships,” Dell said.

The cold winter winds and the movement of the ship, the air seemed even colder. Now they stood together, wearing thick jackets lined with fur on their hoods.

Sorika said nothing. But she listened, surely. She always listened. She was observant, but because she rarely spoke she often saw things the others didn’t. As a rogue, and a sneak, that observant behavior suited her well. She often was able to find weaknesses in their foes that the party otherwise would not have noticed.

“What are you all doing out here?” Dantera asked as she climbed the steps to the forecastle. “You know the crow’s nest will call out once we spot land?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of other things to do,” Dell said.

“I suppose I see your point. Why not play at dice with the sailors?”

“And lose my shirt against these sea dogs?”

“Ha!” Dantera scoffed. Then she turned to Yoreno. “You’re not nervous are you?”

In truth, he was. She had said this rite of passage would be dangerous before. Why was she acting like it wasn’t now?

“A little,” he said carefully. Not that he needed to be careful with his words around Dantera, but the others were here. Yoreno didn’t like to expose himself too much. Luckily Lev wasn’t here to poke fun at him the whole time.

“Good,” she said.

“Mistress, Dantera?” Mai asked.

“Yes, Mai?”

“Is it really that dangerous—the island, I mean?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But fear not. Yoreno will not be too badly harmed should he fail. I will be there to support him if he needs it.”

There was a pause.

“Yes?” Dantera asked, looking to Dell.

“My apologies, Mistress.”

What? What had Yoreno missed? Had he made some kind of face?

“You know he is my protégé, yes?”

Dell nodded.

“I told you,” Mai said, elbowing Dell.

“I am the only heir of the Brennovo line,” Dantera continued in explanation. “If I died tomorrow, the Roaming Lions would go to the king, and then he would give the properties to some lord—who knows who.”

Yoreno was well aware that if Dantera perished before her time, that if she had not married by then, he would become her heir. That was why she wanted a protégé. Originally Yoreno had thought it his father’s idea. In truth, working together with Lady Brennovo had been John’s idea, but the part about tutelage under Dantera as her protégé, her future heir apparent—that was all her.

“Pay it no mind,” Yoreno said to Dantera.

She looked at him, smiled. “Of course. You know your friends better than I do.” She turned to the others.

“Captain!” a sailor above called. “Landward ho! Two points off the starboard bow!”

“Ah,” Dantera said. “It looks like we are there. So, you three will stay with the crew. You may explore the beach, but you are under the command of captain Fenryk while Yoreno and I go further ashore to explore the island. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Mai said as Dell and Sorika nodded in acquiescence to her orders.

“All right, Yoreno, let’s prepare to depart,” Dantera said. “We will not need to wait for the crew to disembark once the ship comes to anchor.”

“I’m ready,” he said. Then he swallowed.

Why was he so apprehensive?

“Good,” see you at the rowboats soon.

Yoreno nodded as Dantera left them.

They watched her go, then Dell said, “I wish I could help you, Yor.”

“I know.”

“But we’re here for moral support,” Mai said.

“Mm,” Sorika noised as she nodded her agreement with the wizard of the Emblazoned Party.

“So,” Dell said, “the Emblazoned Party will have a bonafide knight come soon.”

“Don’t worry,” Yoreno said. “I’m sure your time will come as well.”

“Thanks. But forget about me. Today’s your day.”

Yoreno nodded. There was a pause, then he added, “So you think I’m getting special treatment too, then?”

“It’s not like that,” Dell said.

“Yeah it is,” Sorika said.

Dell turned to look at her. “You always say things at the most inappropriate times.”

Sorika shrugged. “I make observations.”

“Yes you do.”

“Enough of that,” Mai said. “Let’s not get into a fight right before Yoreno leaves the ship.”

“You’re right,” Dell said. “I’m sorry.”

Yoreno turned to regard the cew. The sailors were a flurry of activity on deck and in the sails.

“I think I can see the island now,” Mai said, standing on her tiptoes. “This is exciting.”

“You think so?” Dell asked.

“Yes.”

“Who knows,” Yoreno said. “Maybe you’ll do this same rite of passage too one day.”

“Doubtful,” Dell said. “This is special. We all know it. You’re Dantera’s protégé. This is for you—to prove yourself to her, Yor.”

He nodded. “We better get on with it then.” He turned and strode down the steps, leaving the forecastle with his friends behind him. It wouldn’t be that bad. Yoreno was a swordsman, soon to be knight. He had access to some spells and other charms, but he was no mage. Dantera was much the same, but a great deal more the scout in her role.

This would not be an island of undead liches and dark wizards he had to overcome. Hopefully, anyway. In those occurrences, sword wielding adventurers became the support, while the mage of the party had to step up and do magical battle on even terms. Since he and Dantera were the only ones to venture further ashore than the rest of the crew that gave Yoreno a hint of what was to come.

Or rather, what was not to come? So far, he had no idea what he had to do, or what he would even be up against.

It sent chills up his spine, and yet at the same time he felt invigorated. He was at once feeling the thrill of adventure-to-come and also feeling a stark dread. This rite may very well be the most dangerous task he would undertake at this point. Perhaps not the most likely of death, since Dantera would be there, but certainly the most difficult.

Stalking across the deck, he dodged several sailors scurrying about their duties as he made his way to the rowboats. Dantera came forward with two crewmen who had packed provisions.

And then the anchor dropped with a loud metal clanging as each chain link slammed against the metal-lined draw-hole. Yoreno heard it splash into the dark waters.

“We are almost ready,” Dantera said. “We have food and water, and other provisions for our journey forth, Yoreno. Are you ready?”

He nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Then say goodbye to your friends.”

He turned, clasped Dell’s arm. “See you soon.”

“Not too soon,” Dantera said. “We may be over night, but I am not sure. It has been many years since I’ve been to this island. Things may have changed.”

“You make yourself sound old,” Yoreno said. “You’re only twenty and three.”

“Ha!”

Mai smiled at their discourse. She moved close to embrace Yorenno. “Good luck.”

Sorika wasn’t the type to embrace. She simply smiled and gave Yoreno a nod, which he returned.

“Now,” Dantera said. “You three make yourselves useful. Go ashore with the crew and help them make camp.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Mai said.

Dantera turned to captain Fenryk who was standing a few paces behind them. “Can we depart?”

He nodded.

“Let us go, Yoreno.”

He nodded, the salty chill air making his eyes water somewhat as the rowboat was lowered into the water. The sailor who would row them ashore climbed down a rope ladder, followed by Dantera and Yoreno last.

The boat wobbled somewhat when he stepped in, but otherwise didn’t move too much. Dantera took up a position on the bow seat, while Yoreno took the middle one, their provisions clinging together in a heap on the deck boards.

Dantera pulled up her coat sleeves and sat down. “And we’re off,” she said as the sailor pushed them away from Minstrel’s Dagger with one of the oars before he began to row. He was a strong sailor with thick arms.

“We do not know what to expect, Yoreno.”

“Are you worried?”

“Hmm. Not worried so much as apprehensive. Be on your guard.”

He nodded.

Yoreno was unable to see the island of Norr from their position on the water. The mist was far too thick, and yet it didn’t touch the water. It floated, gliding just above the cold black surface.

Yoreno put his sword on his lap, his belt wrapped around the blade. He would uncoil it and strap it around his waist when they got to shore. He squeezed the hard leather surface of the scabbard.

He was ready.

Ready to become a knight of Aevalin.