The General's Legacy

Chapter One: Prince Cory (final part 3)

'I can't do this!' he blurted out.

'What do you mean?' asked Garon, a half-smile hiding beneath his beard.

'I feel awkward around her. I can't keep this stupid grin off my face. I must look ridiculous.'

'Would it be easier if she was the child you were expecting, or a bent-up old crone with cracked teeth?'

Julia's teeth made the perfect smile. Well, maybe her mouth was just a tiny bit larger than average, but somehow even that was endearing. Cory shook his head vigorously to clear his thoughts. 'You've got to help me!'

'Ah, my dear boy. This is something you're going to have to figure out for yourself.' Garon couldn't keep the mischievous grin off his face, but Cory wasn't looking to see it. 'So far you have behaved like a gentleman — the perfect gentleman, even. You introduced her to everyone, made sure she knew where to go and told her when dinner was going to be...'

'And helped her to choose a dinner dress,' Cory added.

Garon's eyes widened. 'You see, you're already better at this diplomat lark than I was at twice your age.'

Cory sighed. 'I'd better get ready myself.' He left, not feeling entirely convinced.

Entering the dining hall on Cory's arm, Julia relaxed as she quickly scanned the room for what the other women were wearing: dresses in a variety of colours, but all very similar in cut and design to hers. They took their places with the rest of the family, who quickly engaged the newcomer in conversation. Cory was content and quiet as he listened to Julia, who was far more ladylike now she was out of her travelling clothes.

Sebastian, who was in the mood for a little mischief, decided to bring up the subject of horse-riding.

'Cory was saying he might teach you to ride while you're here.' Sebastian had already seen her horse stabled — a lean brown mare with plenty of energy.

'Ha, well, we Plainlanders are born to the saddle, as we say. I have my own horse with me.'

'Maybe Cory can take you for a ride down the valley,' Garon suggested. 'The waterfalls flow this time of year. It is breathtaking to see.'

She looked to Cory with a warm smile. 'I would like that.'

Cory looked at his grandfather for a reaction, but he had quickly moved on to a conversation with his father. After dinner, he escorted Julia back to her rooms and the care of her assistant. 'Thank you for today, Cory. You have been a real, um, we say horruslios.'

Cory smiled, wished her goodnight and left pondering exactly what 'horruslios' meant. Some kind of man, he supposed.

The following day, Cory showed her around Tranmure, introducing the major features, mostly with single sentences. She seemed content and in some moments took his arm as before. They spent quite some time in silence as they looked around and in the orchestra house. That was the night the old general, Cory's grandfather, passed away in his sleep. The following week had been so full of official duties preparing for the funeral that he had only seen Julia long enough for her to express sympathy. She left to take up residence in the lodge at the edge of the palace grounds.

***

In the briefing room, Cory cleared his mind with a single thought, grief's wounds now forgotten. Time I called on Julia and arrange that horse ride, he thought. The brightest path in that grey mist of his future was now lit by the image of one person. He dropped the wooden pieces representing army units onto the briefing room table, retrieved the horse from the stable and rode slowly down the cobbled road, heading away from the castle. He tried to figure out what he was going to say to Julia, keeping the pace sedate as the woods swallowed him. The woods were quiet, as if the trees and birds held their collective breath, waiting for something. The horse and the waterfall ahead were the only sounds. The waterfall's sound grew into the familiar roar he passed by most days of the week. It was one of those journeys in which he could lose himself in thought and arrive at his destination with no memory of how he got there.

Nearing the pool, something out of place snagged at his attention like a piece of clothing suddenly caught on a thorny branch. He heard an unfamiliar voice speak, but the sounds were not words he recognised — in fact, they weren't words at all. They were sounds that had an odd slippery, silvery quality; they wormed their way through his ears and burrowed into his mind. His mind reeled, rejected, turned over and then accepted. It could do nothing else.

His vision blurred and cleared. He felt odd; he didn't feel right in his own skin or in his own mind, somehow. The feelings passed as fast as they came and he thought it would be a good idea to take a look at the pool. There it was, that something out of place — a rowing boat had been dragged up onto the muddy bank. Footprints were still there in the mud, but he only concentrated on the boat itself. What was in it? Oars and a brown leather bag with a shoulder strap. He thought he better take a look inside the bag.

Dismounting from his horse, he walked over to the boat, feet dragging in the sticky grey mud. Unbuckling the bag, he pulled out a heavy book covered in pale, slick leather and turned it over to see the front cover. A skeletal hand sealed beneath the book's covering startled him — his fingers sprang open and his hands shoved the book away. The sickly tome thumped onto the boat seat.

The first instinct of repulsion turned over in his mind, replaced by how intriguing the book was. He picked it up again and the simple thoughts continued to come.
Pragius likes interesting books... I should take this book to him and see what he makes of it. That thought made Cory happy, and he pushed aside thoughts of who the book belonged to or whether it was right to take it. Placing the book back in the leather bag, he swung the strap across his body, mounted his horse and headed home.

He passed the lake and the glowing embers of his grandfather's funeral pyre in the churchyard. One of the young priests was busy collecting some of the ash in an urn, but Cory passed him without so much as a glance.

On the streets of Tranmure, a few people called out to express their sympathy at the passing of his grandfather. The thought of stopping to talk to them brought on a sudden headache. There was only this featureless tunnel through the grey mist of the future to travel down. He rode on towards the palace.

He left his horse at the stables, walked through the main entrance and found the cupboard in the palace keeper's office. There he found a bunch of keys, took them and left for Pragius' private office.

A thought entered Cory's mind that wasn't his own: It is taking longer than I thought to get there.

He unlocked the door to the office. Once inside, he unshouldered the bag and paused for thought. That thought was to take the book out of the bag and leave it on the desk. Pragius might not see it otherwise.

Satisfied, he left, locked the office, returned the keys and went to his own private room. There he undressed, put on his nightshirt, got into bed and was asleep in a matter of heartbeats.

Did he dream Archpriest Ranold standing over him? 'Better let him sleep, see how he is in the morning.'

Julia dined with the family that evening to celebrate the life of Garon Allus Artifex-Dendra. The chair at the table beside her was empty and the place setting unused.

***

It was a cold throne room. So cold, breath came out as white fog. Blue, red-rimmed eyes stared into a coal fire that fought valiantly to push back the frigid air.
Footsteps squelched their way into the room. The sound stopped. Beneath the damp hem of a long purple robe, the shoes that made the sounds were slick with grey mud.

'All is well, your highness. I attended to the delivery... personally. As always, the young prince returned home via the waterfall. Controlling him was a simple work of magic.'

'This plan of yours will work, won't it, Magnar?' King Klonag did not look up from the fire as he spoke.

'Of course, my king. I have had many years to plan.'

Magnar bared his teeth in a grin.

[End of Chapter One]

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