“Everyone has a duty, Mik,” Lord Gregory said solemnly. “Don’t think for a moment that Hyden doesn’t have his. Traipsing into the land of the demons sounds unfathomable. I doubt he would do this if the goddess hadn’t given him the task.”
“Aye,” Mikahl conceded.
“This General Spyra, who you stood with at Valleya, he’s capable?”
“He can fight both as a leader and as a warrior. He fought bravely against Pael’s dead men, but that doesn’t make him a good candidate to run a kingdom. He was the most stable figurehead that was available to me.” Mikahl shrugged again. “That, and I trust him.”
Lord Gregory nodded. “We need to find out who is King Broderick’s true heir,” Gregory said after a long bit of thought. “That is the starting point to fixing the Valleyan problems. As for Seaward and Queen Rachel, I think that there is only one solution.”
“What’s that?” Mikahl asked hopefully.
“You will have to sneak back into Westland and free Princess Rosa. You’ll have to get her to safety, and then marry her.”
“That’s a lot harder than it sounds.”
Gregory laughed at the look on Mikahl’s face. “It sounds impossible. What’s harder than impossible?” As he had done hundreds of times when Mikahl was a fumbling page growing into a capable squire, Lord Gregory ruffled his hair. “You have the Prince of Salaya to spy for you, and his trade ships will help you in and out of Westland. You know the inside of Lakeside Castle as well as any man alive, probably better, since you caused so much mischief there in your youth. You have Ironspike, and all the power that comes with it. It won’t be easy, Mik, but unless you want Princess Rosa to wither away in some dungeon cell, it’s the only option.” Gregory smiled a sad, yet reassuring smile. “We will spend a day or two on Salazar searching for Trella and Zasha. Then, either way, we will go to the Isle of Salaya and find out what knowledge Prince Raspaar has gathered for you. We can make a plan then. From what I’ve seen, Queen Shaella has only a loose hold over our kingdom. There was no resistance when the skeeks invaded. They’re not battle tested.”
The fact that Lord Gregory was already thinking about such things filled Mikahl’s mind with some comfort, but the idea that he might have to go back into Westland alone to rescue Princess Rosa was daunting at best. He began stealing his resolve to do what Lord Gregory felt must be done. He wasn’t sure what he felt emotionally for the Princess, but he was certain that he didn’t want her to come to harm. The semi-private carriage ride they had taken the day after the introductory feast in Xwarda had revealed a lot about her that he liked. Once they were alone, her pretext of formality had fallen away and they had spoken as Rosa and Mikahl, not the High King and the Princess of Seaward. Deep in his heart he’d known as soon as he’d found out that she’d been taken that he would go after her. At least now he wouldn’t be doing it blindly.
He trained with Ironspike each morning they were at sea. The symphony of the sword was a soothing and welcome distraction from the uneasy worries that clouded his mind. Not only did the sound comfort him, it revealed aspects of its own power that he hadn’t yet perceived. Each session gave him a little more understanding of Ironspike’s nature, and revealed ways that he might use it better. By the time they reached the Isle of Salazar he had done more than resign himself to the fact that he had to go into the Dragon Queen’s castle alone to save the Princess. He found he was looking forward to it. If he could find out exactly where Rosa was being held, then Mikahl thought he could actually save her.
Ironspike was far more than just a magical weapon, Mikahl figured out. It was a tool, and the skills he was learning presented endless possibilities and filled him with confidence. Tricking, or even killing Queen Shaella while he was in Westland was a possibility as well. After all, it’s not like she still had a dragon to defend her.
When the ship docked in a fishing village called Rydia, only King Mikahl, Maxwell Tyne, and Lord Gregory left the ship. They learned that the Westland settlement was a bit further south down the coast, and forced the feverish, yet recovering Captain to land them there. The refugee settlement was called Balton, named after the last king that had ruled Westland honorably.
Just stepping onto the shore filled Mikahl with pride. Though he hadn’t known King Balton as his father, he had loved him as a king. Mikahl noticed that Lord Gregory was trembling. If Lady Trella wasn’t here, then he didn’t know where else to look for her.
“Come on, M’ lord,” Mikahl put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go find your lady.”
An inn called the Lost Lion seemed the place to start their search. The two Westlanders made their way there, both noticing the stares and awed glances they were getting as they passed through the growing town. The place reminded Mikahl of Portsmouth, one of Westland’s greatest cities, as it might have been a few hundred years ago. Proud, sturdy, and clean, the settlement of Balton was small, but every bit of it spoke of determination, pride, and persistence.
Lord Gregory sat on the stoop of the inn, too nervous to go inside. Mikahl strode into the common room not knowing what to expect and was caught off guard by the sharp voiced woman standing at the bar.
“About time you came around,” Lady Zasha said with a bit of heat in her tone. “Has the mighty High King returned to his people?”
Mikahl was speechless. Lady Zasha was extremely pregnant and looking as beautiful as ever, but he couldn’t tell if she was really angry with him or not until she scowled his way. He was saved by a most welcome sound.
“Oh Mikahl,” Lady Trella burst out as she charged from the kitchen doors over to him. She hugged him fiercely with tears running down her face. “Oh, if my Lord might have lived to see you come into your own.”
Mikahl realized then that she didn’t know her husband had survived. “Come, m’lady,” he smiled down to her, and took her by the hand.
He was almost as surprised as she was at what awaited them outside the inn. A few hundred people had gathered in the street, and as Lady Trella and Lord Gregory embraced in a joyous torrent of tears, the crowd bowed to their true king.
“All hail King Mikahl,” one of them said.
“Hail King Mikahl,” the others shouted back.
From the doorway behind him, Mikahl heard Lady Zasha say, “I suppose that since you brought Lord Gregory back from the dead you’re off the hook.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“If anyone can get Rosa out of Westland it’s the High King,” Queen Willa said in a vain attempt to comfort Queen Rachel. Princess Rosa was Rachel’s only child and had been the sole subject of conversation since she’d arrived in Xwarda.
“Am I a prisoner here too?” Queen Rachel asked through tear-filled eyes. “Oh, how the gods punish us for our folly,” she blurted. Then she began sobbing again.
“No, Rachel,” Willa gave an exasperated huff. “Your cousin is being held for a more recent treachery than last autumn’s attack on my people. As I told you, Broderick recently consorted with the Dakaneese and the Westlanders to betray the High King. These are the very same Westlanders that kidnapped your daughter, I might add. Nevertheless, Dreg was killed, and quite a few of Jarrek’s people were freed. I sent them as many men as I could spare, and King Mikahl has requested that you do the same. I think that, since he has gone off into Westland to find your daughter, you should comply.”
Queen Willa wasn’t sure that Rosa was the reason why Mikahl had snuck into Westland, but she made it sound that way. Queen Rachel came from Seaward as soon as she heard Broderick was a prisoner. She’d come seeking information, a terrified mother whose daughter had been taken for motives beyond her reckoning. Queen Willa gave her a shoulder to cry on, and for the last two days had come to realize that the treachery of last year was more of Broderick’s design than Rachel’s.
General Spyra hadn’t known Mikahl’s motives either. The General’s message made it sound like he wasn’t sure where Mikahl had actually disappeared to. Mikahl’s message to Willa, though, had made his destination, if not his motives, clearer.
“How many men?” Rachel sobbed. “Would five thousand be enough?”
Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Willa. “I think five thousand well armed, and well provisioned men
