Remnant of Power

Chapter Sixteen

Mal

The sword thudded to the ground. Mal stared at Ragnar as the landscape around him blurred and fell silent. "Hail." "King." The words echoed inside his head as he gazed into the wolf's eyes. He was no King, he was the son of a carpenter. The words echoed again. "Hail." "King." But he wasn't though, was he? The truth was, he'd never known whose son he really was.

Ragnar lifted his muzzle up and spoke, and the spell broke. "You are the son of Ulric's brother Tarlius. Tarlius was the eldest son. That means you should have had the throne instead of Ulric. You're the rightful King, Mal, and now you're eighteen, you're old enough to rule on your own, without a regent. So that means you can take the throne back."

Mal's face paled to the color of snow.

He nudged the sword with the toe of his boot and stared into the distance. The rain had stopped and the sun was risen, at the horizon a yellow haze shimmered above the muddy ground. Mal could hear the sound of the wolves' breathing and his own heart thudding in his chest. A blackbird tweeted in a tree somewhere. But Ragnar had got it wrong. He'd obviously got Mal mixed up with someone else. There was no way Mal's real father had been the King.

There was more talking, but Mal couldn't take anything else in... Child of the King? He didn't think so.

Ragnar dropped his ears so they lay flat against his head.

"Mal, after Ulric killed your father we smuggled you out of the court. Me, our friend Giryan, and a friend of your grandfather; we took you to a trustworthy couple who were unable to have children. It was decided that it would be too dangerous to leave you with your Uncle as Regent until you were old enough to rule. As a young man, Ulric had been openly jealous of your father. Your mother died soon after your birth and you had no other family; no aunts, grandparents, siblings, or cousins. All that stood between your Uncle and the throne was a baby a few weeks old. We gave you a sleeping draught and claimed you were dead, then we swapped your coffin. We smuggled you out of the capital before the burial. Ulric then took the throne, but you were safe."

Mal sat in silence for several minutes. Torun moved closer to Mal, so that his flank was against Mal's leg.

"Tell him about the sword, Ragnar."

"The sword has been passed down through your family for over eight hundred years. It was forged by Alwin the Mighty when he led men and Ithrim against the horde of nightclaws that crossed the Gray Mountains. You are his direct descendant."

Mal folded his arms tightly across his chest. Ragnar had got it wrong. They'd mixed him up with someone else.

"That's why Ulric has taken Yoldas, because he didn't know how to find you, and he thought taking Yoldas would lead him to you."

"So why is he suddenly looking for me now?" Mal rubbed his stubble.

"Because he's just found out that you didn't die when you were a baby after all. The coffin maker who helped us died ten days ago, and was delirious before his death. Apparently during his fever, he blurted out the entire story. So now Ulric knows you're still alive he has to kill you."

An acid pain burnt the inside of Mal's chest. One way or another, he'd have to show them it wasn't him, otherwise how would he ever get away from the wolves? He shoved a hand through his hair, pulling it loose from the band.

"I don't know what to say," he muttered, "it's hard to believe. I can't be the right one. There's no way I'm a prince." But he looked at the emerald-studded sword and twisted it in his hand so it sparkled in the light. A sword was a sword. He might as well keep it, it could turn out to be useful. "Well, whatever you say. Right now, I don't really care. I'm going to sneak into the castle to look for Yoldas. And then I've got to find a way to free my friend Gared. It won't be long now, so I'd like you to take me back to Gelenburg."

To his surprise, Ragnar nodded, then pushed at the sword with his front paw.

"There's something else you need to know, Mal. When the sun goes down, now you're eighteen, as anyone who sees it will be able to confirm, there's a yellow aura around the pupil of your right eye. It will glow in the moonlight. My father has the same aura. When he passes, I will inherit it. And your son will inherit from you. It is the mark of the anointed rulers of Arvad."

Mal stared at him, then bent down abruptly, grabbed the sword without saying anything, then pulled himself onto the wolf, grasping his thick grey mane. Touching the animal's coat made him think of Yoldas. He looked back at the other wolves, trying not to let them see he was watching them. Well, alright, he'd seen Ragnar, or whatever he called himself change into a dog, so he believed Yoldas was the same as them. But that was all he believed. He'd just ignore all this nonsense about him being a prince.

Ragnar set off at a fast pace.

Balanced uncomfortably on the galloping wolf, and trying not to drop the sword, Mal's head was a blur of thoughts. Yoldas. Imprisoned. It was his fault. He chewed his lip. He remembered the last time he'd seen his dog. He should have kept an eye on him after he bit the peddler. They must find him, that was all he cared about.

They reached the grove of trees outside the city where Mal had first seen them, and Ragnar stopped. Mal climbed off and Ragnar looked up at the sky.

"We can't do anything until it gets dark."

What? How much more time were they going to lose? Mal's knuckles were white against the sword handle.

"Mal.We need to do this carefully, not impulsively. The city will be swarming with guards. The guards won't let four stray dogs in at once. We need to watch and see how often they change the guards on duty. Torun, Kelten and Yxmet will enter the city one at a time after each guard change. Then w'ill go in when it's dark and meet them. We should go to the prison first. We'll have to kill the guards, or knock them out."

Mal frowned.

"Well, we can't tie them all up, and if the King catches us he'll kill us." Ragnar met Mal's eyes. We'll have to do it all silently. We'll only manage to do it if none of the guards raise the alarm.

"I'll need to find Gared." Mal's set his jaw hard. "I'm not leaving him there. We'll have to look in each section till we find him."

Ragnar stared at Mal, thinking. Then he nodded once. "Alright."

Mal looked at Ragnar. Did he really think the four of them and him would be able to kill all the prison guards? The prison was huge, he'd gone to stare at it when he was a child, when his mother had taken him to look at the castle one Harvest Festival, when there'd been fireworks in the city. But his father had told him to stay away, said the King even imprisoned children. Since then he'd not gone anywhere near it.

"Now, you should sleep. I will stay with you, and the others will hunt. We all need to eat."

Mal followed Ragnar further into the wood without speaking. He kicked a pile of leaves into a rough mound and lay down. He hadn't slept outside since he was a young teenager, when it'd had been exciting, when he and Gared had made up stories about being adventurers. Well now it was just muddy, and cold, and frustrating. He'd never get to sleep.

But he did.

**

Mal smelt damp dog. Then he realized. It was damp wolf. He opened his eyes to see Torun's face just below his. The wolf opened his mouth and Mal cried out and rolled away. They were going to eat him after all. He sprang to his feet, and immediately fell over. Torun looked at him in alarm.

"What's the matter, Mal. Are you alright?" The wolf must have noticed the fear on Mal's face. He screwed up his muzzle. "Did you think I was going to bite you?" His animal face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Wolves don't eat sons of men, Mal. We will bite them in combat, but the taste of human flesh disgusts us. You have nothing to fear from us. I was waking you up to tell you that we've caught a boar. And look." He nodded to a pile of sticks and a lump of bloody flesh on the ground next to it." I've been collecting firewood for you. You can cook your share. I'm going. Kelten and Yxmet have entered the city already. Now it's my turn. I'll see you later." He started to pad through the trees. He turned around after a few yards and gave a sort of lopsided grin. "Hey, Mal. Watch out that Ragnar doesn't eat you."