Song of Tears from a Broken Box

by Lady Tempest

Bright flames soared against the violet-black sky, crackling and snapping fiery red, orange and yellow, the stars barely visible through the haze of heat and thick gray smoke. The west wall had fallen, a crumbled mass of stone and earth. Hordes of black-clothed men and beasts poured through the breach. Another explosion boomed against the castle walls and the east wall fell as well with a burst of fire and white, stone dust. Black figures streamed into the courtyard, not even waiting for the smoke to clear from their path.

Kiran strode quickly past the frantic droves of people clamoring through the castle’s hall to escape to some place of safety. He had to find Arilen, the high knight of the Shadowguard. His lavender-gray eyes narrowed in cold determination. Damned if he would let his lifetime of training go to waste at a time like this. His duty was to protect the king, regardless of being given a specific charge to do so. He may be an apprentice in that duty, but only in experience. His skills and power nearly reached that of a master, merely lacking the polish experience would give.

Torn between wasting precious time searching for the older knight and expending strength he may need for the battle to come, he reached out with his mind, seeking Arilen and hoping no shields had been raised against him.

Yes! He quickened his pace, shoving blindly past the throng around him. Heedless of his surroundings, only his destination and the quickest path there occupying his mind, he soon arrived at the entryway to the hall of the king’s chambers. A thick cluster of guards in red and black tabards parted without a word to let Kiran pass, then returned to their vigil.

He dropped his link to his superior as he approached the large, mahogany and gold ornamented double-doors at the end of the hall and knocked loudly. Brushing down the rumples of his black uniform, he then stood straight and still while he waited for the door to open.

Dark and imposing, he presented a stark image to the king’s elderly valet who opened the door breaths later. But then all Shadowguard had an air of cold danger about them. Perhaps it was imparted through their harsh training; perhaps the heavy responsibility that was their duty; perhaps the even heavier responsibility that special power brought, or perhaps a combination of all the reasons and others.

Kiran froze the old man with a gaze of ice gray, made all the more pale, chilling, and intense by a contrasting fringe of thick, black lashes. He meant the man no ill will. The invasion of the castle required the young Shadowguard to be at full alert and complete preparation to duty. There was no time for pleasantries.

The valet stepped aside, and Kiran hurried into the king‘s chamber. Bowng to one knee and planting his fist straight-armed onto the intricately embroidered carpet, he lowered his head, violet-black hair falling in wisps about his golden tanned face.

“Your Majesty and my Lord Knight, I have come to serve however I am needed,” he said in a deep, calm voice.

“Good. I am glad you are here, Kiran.” A man dressed in the black of the Shadowguard stepped towards Kiran. The crimson and gold threading thickly edging the collar and sleeves of his silk uniform tunic marked him as High Knight. “We very much have need of you.”

“You may rise,” King Doryn said without turning from peering out the large window. His noble, gruff voice quaked with hidden nervousness that only one trained in noticing such behavioral details would detect. His handsome face, wrinkled in sorrow at the devastation in the courtyard far below, flickered with dark shadows and a bright, gold glow from the fire’s reflection in the glass.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Kiran stood. He let his arms hang loosely at his side, his fingers flexing slightly.

“Report,” Arilen ordered.

“The east and west walls have been breached. At least four hundred invaders of indeterminate origin at the west. I hurried here so I don’t know the number at the east, only that it has also fallen.”

“Damn!” the High Knight muttered. “What you have told us confirms all the reports we have heard. This is a disaster. The barracks were attacked first. Both destroyed by an explosion. We only have the guards and soldiers who were on duty here within the palace. The men quartered within the city we have no word of, and are uncertain any messengers managed to reach them. It’s doubtful the castle will hold for long. Our first duty is to the king and heir. You must find the prince and escape with him....”

Kiran’s dusk gray eyes narrowed, his lips tightening, but he remained silent. Duty was duty no matter how distasteful the task, or more specifically, the charge.

“...the princess, as well, if possible. If it is safe to rejoin each other, you will know. But I expect it will be quite some time, and far safer to keep the king and heir distant for a time. Hopefully, we can meet up at the monastery. Only then would it be truly safe.”

The younger Shadowguard nodded obediently. “Understood, my lord.”

“Apprentice Kiran,” King Doryn whispered, turning from the window and the chaos several stories below to focus his intense green eyes on the stoic, young Knight Apprentice. A quiver of sadness threaded through his voice and his gaze. “Please,.. see that my son stays safe. Watch over him. I have heard he can be a handful, but protect him. Not as duty, but as a favor to your king. ....And... and, tell him... that... I love him. And Alysia too.”

“As you will, your majesty.” Kiran bowed deeply.

“Thank you,” the king sighed, returning to stare thoughtfully out the window.

“If that is all, I will carry out your orders.”

“Yes. There is little time to lose.” Arilen saluted, fist to chest. “Strength, duty, and honor, until destiny takes you.”

Kiran returned the salute. “Strength, duty, and honor, until destiny takes you.”

******

Kiran burst into the prince’s chambers. The urgency of the moment and the prince’s belligerent and obstinate nature left no time for courtesy. Darkness clouded his eyes. But as the door bounded against the wall, the warm yellow glow from lit sconces in the hall spilled into the room, bathing the large covered bed and twin lumps under the silk sheets.

The young Shadowguard growled to himself and stormed across the room to the bed. How could anyone sleep through all that was happening? The explosions, the fire, the yells and screams. Although, he expected nothing less from Prince Dasya. The boy was the most undisciplined, useless excuse for a human being, no less heir to the throne of Issla, Kiran had ever met.

As he reached the bed, an empty bottle rattled across the hardwood floor, nudged by his soft leather boot. Kiran scowled. Pathetic. His teeth clenched, he glared at the honey blond head blissfully resting on a soft pillow and yanked the sheets from the bed.

“Get up, your highness!” he hissed.

Both figures in the bed shot awake, groggy with drink, and scandalously nude, heavily scented of sex. The prince’s eyes widened as they fell upon Kiran’s tall, dark form.

“Out!” Prince Dasya screamed, clutching frantically at the sheet in Kiran’s hand. But it was triumphantly kept from his limited reach.

“I don’t have time for this, Prince,” he interrupted with a sneer. “The castle is under attack and falls to the enemy as we speak. Now get yourself out of bed and dressed. We’re leaving.”

The prince’s brows furrowed, his pouty lips raising in a snarl. “How dare you barge in here and speak to me like this!”

Kiran grabbed the prince’s pale, slender arm and jerked him to his feet. “Curse and scream at me later. I know you will anyway. I have to get you out of here. Now!” He roughly urged the boy towards the huge wardrobe.

The blond glared maliciously. “I...”

“Now!”

The prince seethed, but quickly did as he was told, his lithe, young body glowing pale and smooth against the dark recesses of the open wardrobe. “I will have your head for this!” Dasya growled.

“Fine. Just hurry, or your head will be the one to be had. By the enemy.” Kiran turned to the other boy who cowered on the bed, long dark hair falling over wide eyes. “And I suggest you get as far away from here as you can. You know the passage behind the kitchens?” The boy nodded. “Good. Take it to the storehouse and watch until the west wall is safe to pass. If you keep to the dark, you should be fine. I advise fleeing to at least the next kingdom. It’s no longer safe here.”

The boy nodded again as he scrambled from the bed, gathering up his clothes and hastily pulling them on while stumbling for the door. “Thank you,” he croaked.

“Destiny be with you,” Kiran replied to the boy, then returned his attention to the fuming prince.

Still nude, Dasya rummaged through the wardrobe, tossing various articles of clothing aside with a scowl of disgust. The Shadowguard strode towards the prince, his soft-soled boots angrily pounding the floor.

“I can’t believe you! Your life is in danger and you’re being particular!” Kiran flung the wardrobe door completely open and snatched a dark silk shirt and breeches. After shoving them at the prince’s bare chest, he grabbed a pair of smallclothes and leggings from one of the open drawers and also thrust them at the blond. “Put these on. I’m going to get your sister. You better be dressed and ready when I return. Pack a few things if you like, but you’re only taking whatever you have put aside when I get back. Understand?”

“I hate you!” Dasya hissed, barely loud enough to be heard. His eyes flashed furiously, glittering in the partial light.

“Good,” Kiran shot back coldly and stalked to the door. “But it’s my duty to protect you, and I will do so regardless.” And he left.

****

Gathering Princess Alysia proceeded more smoothly and easier than her brother. But then, the adorable thirteen year old was shy and sweet, nothing like the caustic and wild prince. Her nurse had already changed her from her nightclothes and sat comforting the small girl on a sofa far from the window and the horrors occurring below. Alysia jumped up and threw her arms around Kiran’s slim waist, burying her tearful face into his black cotton tunic, trembling. But when he told her gently they were escaping and to quickly pack a few things, she pulled away, smiling bravely, and wiped the tears from her hazel-green eyes.

She and the nurse hurried to collect an extra change of clothes, a thick, dark cloak, a silver hairbrush, her favorite book, the letter her mother wrote to her before the queen had died, and a small pouch of gold and other valuables.

“For whatever else we need,” she said, forcing a smile while bundling everything into an emptied pillowcase.

Kiran patted her on the cheek, his mouth quirked in an encouraging half-smile. She beamed happily. “Good. That will be very helpful. Let’s go get your brother.”

Alysia quickly said goodbye to her nurse who had been like a second mother to her, and Kiran gave the kind, old woman directions to possible escape routes and hiding places. Slinging the bundle over his shoulder, they headed for the prince’s room.

*****

Kiran strode into the prince’s room, which was now lit by an oil lamp beside the bed. Dressed, in a loose, midnight blue shirt and tight-fitting charcoal gray breeches, Dasya was kneeling in front of a large, ornamented trunk, his head of golden curls nearly hidden as he leaned inside, digging through its contents. He tossed something over his shoulder onto a mound of various belongings in the middle of the floor, then continued his search.

“I hope you’re finished,” Kiran said, stopping at the pile on the floor.

The prince paused, his hand flicking briefly to his face. Then Dasya turned glaring fiery green, red-rimmed eyes on the Shadowguard. His pale pink lips tightened and he rose. “I doubt it would matter if I said I wasn’t,” he grumbled.

Kiran returned the glare. Dasya had better be sober enough to not cause trouble or impede their escape. An intense gray gaze heated the boy’s already flush cheeks to a furious red.

“For once, you’re right, Prince.” The young man glanced down at the prince’s belongings. “This is too much. Keep in mind you will be carrying it!”

The prince’s eyes wandered to the pack on Kiran’s shoulder, then narrowed to angry, red slits. “I see,” he replied coldly.

The tall, older man snatched a pillow case from the bed and began stuffing the obviously important items into it: A change of clothes, a warm cloak, a matchstone, and a flask of wine; Hopefully, they wouldn’t need the sturdy flask for any of the purposes he found useful.

He hefted a decorative silver dagger at the scowling boy. “Strap this to your belt. Unfortunately, it may be needed. Not that I suspect you know how to use it,” Kiran sneered.

“I know how!” Dasya snapped as he snatched it from Kiran’s hand and clipped it to his belt.

“I pray we don’t find out.”

Kiran continued rummaging through Dasya’s pile. A small, heavy pouch jangled as he lifted it. A brief look inside revealed it to be filled with gold and silver coins, jewelry, and loose gems. He retied it shut and settled it within the make-shift bag.

“We’ll definitely need that, but you don’t need the rest of this,” he muttered, gesturing to the remaining pile of books, fine clothes, and various trinkets. “Especially not this.” The toe of his boot nudged a small, delicately carved box.

Dasya snatched it from further abuse by Kiran’s foot and clutched it to his chest. “I’m taking it!” His pretty face twisted in rage and stubbornness.

“Fine. Let’s just get going.” Kiran handed him the pillow case and the prince gently wrapped the box in an extra shirt from the floor and placed it with the rest of his belongings.

*****

Once again Kiran raced through the halls, now with two others at either side of him. Alysia carried her own bundle since the Shadowguard needed both hands free in case of a fight. Except for the guards standing dutifully, swords drawn, at strategic points throughout the royal floor, the halls were deserted.

Kiran lead them down back stairways and little used halls, his sword-hand always resting on the hilt of his sword, the other extended as if groping for something in the air. Oddly enough, it was the lack of something his fingers reached for. The electric tingling that had coursed through them several times, like dampened lightning, signaled the unwanted presence of others. It was a simple power, very basic and very limited, but expended no energy, so it would have to suffice. Friend or foe? He could not distinguish. But he would rather encounter no one, than risk encountering the enemy.

Soon, after a roundabout route to avoid meeting anyone else, they arrived at the secondary kitchen near the back of the palace proper and the surrounding wall as well. Kiran raided the pantry of a few loaves of bread, blocks of cheese, and cured sausages and threw them in a burlap sack. Two wineskins also were dropped into the sack and he pulled the drawstrings shut, then tied them securely.

When he handed the food to Dasya, the prince gave him a dark look. Kiran patted his sword, glanced at the sack, then Dasya. His cold, gray eyes allowed no disagreement. The prince snatched the bag and flung it over his shoulder with his own, a deep scowl on his face.

“I’m not a pack horse!” the blond prince grumbled.

Kiran’s only reply was a finger to his lips and a scolding look. Dasya rolled his eyes and grunted.

*****

(End Part 1)