Relam nodded. “Yes,” he murmured, the weight of grief settling on him again. “He was.”
By the time the king’s body had been freed of the snow, other teams of soldiers had freed the bodies of the guards as well. The other horses had been found slaughtered as well, further supporting the idea that some kind of beast had been responsible for the attack. The loyal steeds were left where they had fallen. There was no reason to take them back to Etares.
Not long after this had been accomplished, Wil returned, leading a small wagon and commander Eckle with his thirty warriors. The riders moaned when they saw the king’s body and wept openly, stunned by the loss. Eckle himself sat rigid in his saddle, shaking his head.
As the sun brushed the horizon to the west, the king and his two guards were loaded into the back of the wagon, which was just large enough for three men to lie side by side. Relam and his four guards took the lead, riding just in front of the cart. Eckle led the rest of the soldiers behind the wagon.
They set off for the road in silence, with none of the customary shouting of orders. Nobody had the heart to disturb the mournful silence, or to interrupt the grieving of those around them. All the way to the road, the only sounds were from the horses, the wagon, and the riders’ equipment. Even the forest animals were silent. No deer bounded from tree to tree, no squirrels chittered angrily as their territory was invaded by the procession, and no birds burst from bush and tree in a flurry of wings.
The journey along the road through the Midwood was just as silent. Torches were lit to combat the gathering dusk, and their flickering orange light shone all around, creating dancing shadows to the left and right of the road.
As the riders emerged from the forest, Relam looked up and saw Etares, lying in wait. Braziers glowed on the wall tops and the lights of the city were visible beyond. The palace gleamed most brilliantly of all, illuminated by dozens of lanterns. Not far away, the Citadel glowed only slightly, a dark mass blocking out the stars that dotted the heavens.
They continued riding in silent formation, the cart rolling and bouncing, the horses plodding placidly. The riders sniffed and shivered in the cold air, but none were weeping anymore. Not even Relam. He was still grieving, but he had run dry of tears during the ride back from the forest. Bit by bit, he was realizing that he was now the heir to the throne. That he would soon be king.
He knew in his heart that he was not ready for that burden, not in his present state. He did not have the wisdom of his father, nor was he the warrior he wanted to be. He was not the peacekeeper his mother had been, he was not a strategist or military commander. Nor did he have a particularly good head for business or administration. What right did he have to ascend to the throne, meager as his skills were?
Relam’s thoughts were interrupted by shouts from the wall above. He heard running feet, the sound of the portcullis rising. Then, the gate began to swing open, and warm light spilled forward from dozens of men holding torches and peering out at the procession.
“Your highness!” Hadere said, shoving to the front. “The city has been secured as requested, but we have received no word from Eckle-”
The commander broke off as he surveyed the mournful band, and saw Eckle’s face behind the wagon.
“What has happened?” he asked, looking at Relam worriedly.
Relam went to speak, swallowed, then shook his head. His voice did not seem to be working properly.
A shudder ran through Hadere, then, slowly, he knelt before Relam.
“I am at your service . . . my king,” he said gently.
Whispers ran through those who had assembled to welcome the search party back to Etares. Relam heard snatches of it, heard the voices that said his father was dead, that the king had fallen during the hunt. But he ignored them for the present, focusing on one matter at a time.
“Thank you, Commander,” he said gently. “Please, rise.”
Hadere stood, and bowed his head. “This . . . this is a tragic day, your majesty,” he murmured. “My heart goes out to you. If there is anything I can do, let me know.”
“I will,” Relam assured him. “Now, please, reopen the harbor and see to it that things return to normal. And get some rest. There will be time tomorrow to . . . to decide what we must do next.”
Hadere nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for Relam to enter the city. Relam set his heels to his horse’s side and rode through the west gate. Not as a prince anymore. But as a king.
Chapter 38
Relam woke with a start in the middle of the night.
His room was cold and dark, save for a shuttered lantern, and he had managed to kick his blankets aside while he slept. Not that it could really be called sleeping. Relam had dozed off and on, tossing and turning, trying to find rest but to no avail. Every time he tried to clear his mind, the death of his parents somehow came to the surface again. Not only his father, but also his mother, even though he had been coping with that loss for three months. He had finally passed out from exhaustion a little after midnight.
But now something had awoken him.
Relam froze, listening, trying to identify what had caused him to awake. It had not been light filtering through the windows. The sky outside was completely dark, and there was no moon. By Relam’s estimate, dawn was still hours away. There was no
