Haladras

Ten

Skylar felt utterly stunned.

"You think I'm the missing prince?" he stammered out. "That's impossible. My mother's very much alive. Nor is she a queen―I'm sure of that. My father died before I was even born. And he was a miner."

Krom deflected Skylar's challenges with a mere shake of his head.

"Prince Korbyn Ducädese thou art. Dahra Lancewright, though she is as much a mother as anyone could be, is not the woman who gave you life. Nor was your father a miner, but Athylian himself. That man whom you call uncle is no uncle to you, but the same man-servant who saved your life and brought you to Haladras."

Despite the galvanized conviction in Krom's voice, Skylar refused to believe him. The man was an utter stranger. Lasseter may have trusted these strange men. That did not mean Skylar ought to. Perhaps they had duped his uncle.

"My uncle..." replied Skylar emphatically, "if he is not my uncle, why is it that we look so much alike?"

"As I said, Lasseter was also a bodyguard to Athylian―to your father. He was appointed to the position because of his physical likeness to Athylian. He is no clone of Athylian, mind you. Anyone who knew the king could easily distinguish which was king and which was servant. But from a distance, one might easily mistake one for the other."

Skylar frowned. A man-servant and bodyguard who looked like King Athylian had taken him as an infant to Haladras to escape the wicked King Tarus? It all sounded too far-fetched.

"Why do you think the Trackers attacked you as they did?" asked Krom, obviously reading the doubts in Skylar's face. "Those were Morvath's machines."

"They made a mistake," insisted Skylar. "Besides, if Tarus believes the prince dead, why would he send out the Trackers?"

Krom nodded, understanding the sense in the question.

"For nearly a decade, Tarus lived without knowledge of your existence. During those years, we kept a close eye on Tarus. It so happened that one night one of the king's advisors got himself drunk. He was one of those commissioned with me. He was at a tavern making merry with a few friends when the subject of Athylian came up.

"'How I miss the days of Athylian,' said one. 'Aye,' said another, 'and curse those murder'n Tors for taken him from us.'

"Then the first added, 'And for taking our Queen, the little princess and tiny prince. Poor little ones. They might have been great like their father.'

"'Aye, poor little prince,' said the advisor absently. 'We couldn't even find his body to give him a proper burial.'

"A hush quickly fell over the tavern. All eyes stared at the advisor. Despite his drunken state, he realized his blunder and attempted to correct it. 'That is,' he said, 'we only found part of the body.' But it was no use. The secret had been let loose.

"Within two days, Morvath's ears heard the news from one of his special servants. The advisor was summoned before the king and made to confess all, before being executed. With devilish cunning, Morvath's servants tracked down all who were in the tavern that night and killed them. The rest of the original commission―excepting myself―he executed, as well. Then he set out to find you. He has been looking ever since."

Skylar sat, taking it all in. How could he believe such a tale?

"How could the Trackers know I'm the prince? There's no proof of it."

Krom chuckled quietly. "They sampled your blood. Did you not notice a prick on your skin shortly before they overtook you?"

"Yes, but―"