Royal Exile

‘Good idea,’ Gavriel said. ‘I saw Piven earlier today. I suppose he doesn’t know much about it.’

The shrug Leo gave was nonetheless rueful. ‘Piven doesn’t know much of anything. Can I ask you something, Gav?’

‘Anything. You are the heir to the throne, after all.’

Leo grinned. It was an old jest, which the twins used ruthlessly against him. ‘Is the tyrant going to kill us all?’

Gavriel sighed. ‘Not you.’

‘Why not?’

‘You have me.’

‘I know you’re the best swordsman we have, but —’

‘Of the cohort only,’ Gavriel qualified, recalling with pride how his father, the best known sword in the land, had marvelled at the result of his concept to train a small group of youngsters into an elite faction. His eldest son’s escalating skills were the most impressive of all.

‘That’s what I mean.’

‘In that case, best sword, best archer, best rider.’

‘Ah, but not best climber.’

‘No, but that’s because you’re still relatively puny…your majesty.’

Again Leo smiled. ‘Well, when I’m your age I’ll be a better swordsman, and I’ll shoot arrows longer and straighter.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ Gavriel said, playing along, glad that he’d sidetracked the prince from the threat of death that loomed over all of them.

‘But you do think others will die … that the tyrant will win?’ Leo continued.

It seemed Gavriel had congratulated himself too soon. ‘I don’t think we’ll come out of this without some death, no.’

‘So my parents and brother will be murdered probably.’

Gavriel didn’t answer.

‘And likely your father because he’s legate.’

‘I —’

‘And perhaps all the people of Penraven because they are loyal to the crown.’

‘Leo.’

‘It just doesn’t seem fair that I should survive, does it?’

Gavriel wanted to say that there was absolutely no guarantee that he would — in fact there was an all too real likelihood that he wouldn’t — but that was hardly the encouraging sentiment that his father wanted from him. De Vis had warned him to keep the boy’s mindset strong, far away from thoughts of siege or death. So instead Gavriel placated Leo with the obvious. ‘You are the heir. You are even more important than the king because you are the realm’s future. If he died without an heir, that would be disastrous, irresponsible and unforgiveable. But if his heir survives, even if he himself dies, there is hope.’

‘And hope is a good thing,’ Leo said, as though finishing Gavriel’s sentence.

‘It is everything for a kingdom facing such a threat.’

‘Tell me about Loethar. Everyone ignores me, says I don’t need to worry.’

‘Not your father and certainly not mine,’ Gavriel replied, surprised.

‘No. They’re worse. They tell me that Loethar can be beaten and yet their faces say something different. I know they’re pretending, shielding me from the truth. I want the truth, Gav. I’m not just a child, I’m the crown prince. I have to know what we face. And I’m twelve now, almost thirteen. That’s ancient!’

The prince was correct; he did have a right to the truth. Gavriel wasn’t sure he was the appropriate person to deliver it. He swallowed. The reality of the weight of responsibility given to him slotted into place in his mind and made him feel dizzy with fear. He would give Leo the truth as he understood it; the boy needed to know precisely what journey lay ahead of them.

‘I’ll tell you what I know, what my father has told me.’

Leo settled back against a tree. ‘Start from the beginning of Loethar’s life.’

Gavriel stretched out his long legs, crossed them at the ankle and knitted his hands behind his head as he leaned against the tree trunk. He didn’t feel relaxed but he needed to give Leo the impression that he was. ‘Loethar’s background is murky. No one really knows who he is but we know he hails from the Likurian Steppes.’

‘A tribal warlord,’ Leo muttered with awe.

‘If you want to give him a title, that certainly fits, although “lowlife thug” is my best definition.’

‘A masterful thug,’ Leo suggested and at Gavriel’s look of disdain, added, ‘Well, he certainly called the Set’s bluff. Why didn’t we all just kill him and scatter his mob to their arid lands moons ago?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You do. Stupidity. Obviously each of the kingdoms — and Penraven surely must take the most blame — believed itself invincible simply because he brought a seeming rabble. We didn’t respect their determination.’

All true. Gavriel sighed silently at Leo’s grasp of the situation and continued. ‘We know of no family and to my knowledge we don’t even know why or how this campaign of war began but we assume he dreams of empire. His intention is to cripple the power of the Denova Set, with Penraven the jewel of his new crown.’

‘Because politically and financially we’re the most powerful of all the realms.’

‘Correct.’

‘Yes, but why?’

‘Lo help me — what is your history teacher doing with you, majesty?’

‘He’s so boring I don’t pay attention. Out here with you it’s more fun.’

‘All right, let’s see,’ Gavriel began. ‘Penraven, Barronel, Dregon, Gormand, Vorgaven, Cremond and Medhaven make up the Denova Set.’

Leo made a sound of exaggerated exasperation. ‘I know that much.’

Gavriel ignored him. ‘Of the seven, Penraven is the largest, the most powerful and the most wealthy. And Penraven was the first of the realms, so the others tend to look up to the Valisar crown. However, each is its own sovereign state, governing itself. You’ve seen the seven Kings coming together for the Denova Meet every three years, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, although I was never allowed to be involved.’

‘No, well you were ill for the last one I recall and barely six for the one before that, still, I might add, sucking your thumb! The King of Gormand disapproved.’