The Fractured Heartstone Read online

  ***

  The streets had filled with people and the market district was a hive of activity. The more well-off inhabitants of the city were now pressed cheek by jowl with the common folk and the unsavoury characters that were always on the lookout for an easy mark. The hustle and bustle readily presented many opportunities and it was common for the scream of ‘stop, thief’ to be heard numerous times on any given day.

  On a nearby rooftop, a hooded figure silently surveyed the scene below. From under the hood, thin strands of elegant fiery hair were visible and she hunched her shoulders in thought. The hubbub of the streets drifted up to her perch and, although she could make out random snippets of conversation, most of it was lost in the din. Abruptly another figure joined her on the rooftop. She mutely acknowledged the newcomer with an almost imperceptible nod and the two mysterious forms stood side by side for a few moments, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city. The second person had a more masculine figure but he was dwarfed by his companion. They looked at one another for the first time and a wordless exchange passed between the two, both robed forms turning their backs on the circus below and retreating further onto the roof. The woman pushed her hood back to reveal a severe facial expression and she rounded on her smaller companion. He was taken aback as she leaned in, her face inches from his own and furrowed in thought.

  “Did you enjoy your conversation with the flatfoot, Raelynne?” the smaller man asked, his hood remaining in place and obscuring his features from her answering glare. He shrugged simply in response. “I know we’re meant to keep an open mind but do you believe for an instant that this is the man who’s going to be at the heart of the prophecy?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said simply. Raelynne’s voice caught in her throat and she found words hard to come by which was unusual; a fact exhibited by her partner’s questioning glance. “I didn’t expect the prophecy to be true let alone he to be the one to bring about such change. But there was something about him.”

  “Destiny?” the hooded individual laughed haughtily. “Do you really believe in such whims? Destiny is what you make of it and whether you obtain it at the point of the sword or the swish of a quill.”

  “Thank you, Feraal. Though your world view often reminds me of the joke about the pessimist and the optimist,” Raelynne quipped, a mischievous grin on her face.

  “How so?” asked Feraal.

  “Well, the pessimist says ‘It couldn’t get any worse than this’ while the optimist says ‘Sure it can’. You’re the second one,” said Raelynne.

  Raelynne patted him on the shoulder and edged closer to the roof. Feraal moved stealthily at her flank and the two of them together spied the scene below. Her eyes took in every image and shadow, a flock of black ravens clashing starkly against the white marble of the city’s walls; clothes hanging idly on a wash line; the smell of lilac on the faint summer breeze. It would have been enough to overwhelm even her finely sharpened senses had she not been here for a purpose. It didn’t take long for her keen senses to detect what she was looking for. The entrance to the fabled White Tower of Maleardhus was visible. Three rooftops separated them from the magnificent structure but the sky was now clear and their view unobstructed. Two city guardsmen walked up to the entrance and lingered for a moment before the taller of the two men preceded inside. Raelynne gave a satisfied nod while turning and gesturing to Feraal and they padded back to a secluded corner.

  “What did you see?” Raelynne inquired.

  “I saw that policeman you spoke to earlier entering the White Tower right on time,” answered Feraal. Under his hood, the look of confidence was fast waning. “Worryingly so…”

  “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Raelynne responded grimly. “In the next few days, we’ll know if destiny really does have a hand to play in all this.” She paused for a moment, her mind going over the ramifications of what they might mean. “But it’s not whether destiny is real or not that troubles me Feraal. It’s what happens next.”

  ***

  Ydari walked up the staircase, the Chamberlain a couple of steps ahead while muttering to himself. The Guard Captain paid him no heed as they turned off the main staircase and rounded a corner. A room opened up before them, almost as large and opulent as the entrance hall below but it lacked the tidiness of the former. Desks were amassed in the centre of the room and it gave the impression of a maze of furniture that created an impassable barrier. Workers whipped about hurriedly, shouting at one another in tremendously loud tones as they fought to be heard. The effect was one of organised chaos. A couple of offices were set in the back of the room, which offered the only hope of peace and quiet. The Chamberlain plodded his way through the maelstrom of paperwork, Ydari only a step behind.

  This was the administrative heart of the capital. While it was the lofty dignitaries and heads of state that made laws and enacted treaties, it was down to these men and women to make sure everything else kept ticking over. Every report and document from all corners of the kingdom found their way into this office; everything from missives detailing grain counts and reports of banditry on the highways to more mundane affairs such as the processing of taxation. This was typical of the bureaucratic headache that was symptomatic of such a large-scale operation. Ydari looked at the assemblage of workers in front of him and shook his head quizzically. It seemed to him that the entire process balanced on a knife-edge. Tasks were finished just as another would crop up and it was this balancing act that turned the wheels of progress, one stamped form at a time.

  Ydari and the Chamberlain finally managed to weave their way through with only one toe stamped on, which to Ydari’s mind constituted a successful slog through bureaucracy. They retreated to the right-hand side of the room which housed a smaller, but no less grand, staircase. They continued ascending for several minutes passing more offices that became progressively less hectic and it was here that the Queen's most important advisors and government officials toiled. It was from these chambers that the entire Kingdom of Ythelia was governed. They climbed still further and Ydari imagined he would get a nosebleed from the sudden change in altitude until, at last, they had entered the royal complex. A long corridor separated the rooms one from another and a small antechamber was set into the wall furthest away from the staircase. The tone here was different, almost reverential, and windows lined every available wall with fine silk curtains flapping gently in the breeze. These chambers always took Ydari's breath away; the grandeur of the space contrasting starkly with the hive of activity of the floors below. This space, however, had been designed with an entirely different purpose in mind; that of furnishing the royal family in the lap of luxury as well as to heighten the veneer of imperial power.

  The staircase Ydari and the Chamberlain had climbed continued winding up and only those who worked within the confines of these walls knew just how large it all was. At the very top of this, Ydari recalled, was the throne room where the most important affairs of state were handled. The Chamberlain shuffled over to the antechamber with Ydari in tow and he paused by a grand door. Londorff rapped smartly on the wood and waited. There was a pregnant pause before the door was pulled open and the Chamberlain whispered to an unseen figure on the other side. Finally, he turned to the Watch Captain and motioned for him to enter. The Chamberlain nodded his head as politely as he could muster before turning on his heel and heading for the staircase.

  The door swung open in admittance and Ydari stepped through it and into the office beyond. The room here put his meagre office at the Watch House to shame. A grand desk stretched out with three windows lined behind it. The desktop was clear of clutter and looked seldom used. Large bookcases lined the walls and the central area had a large mat made from deep crimson material on which the coat of arms of Ythelia’s royal family was emblazoned. A chaise longue skirted the edge of these luxurious furnishings. Ydari's eyes naturally fell to the seal in the middle of the carpet before casting his eyes about the room.

 
There were countless books and volumes cluttering the shelves. For one of the major rulers of the continent, the Queen had a surprisingly eclectic taste in reading material. There were weighty tomes that would naturally be in a collection such as this; books detailing proper court etiquette; communiqués keeping the royal household apprised of events going on within their empire. Not so common though were the volumes detailing the latest breakthroughs and theories on alchemy, sagecraft and even spell casting. Ordinarily, this would be met with uneasy stares and whispers in dark corridors but the Queen was used to getting her way and being able to diplomatically handle any dissent with a disarming smile that hid an icy streak for any unfortunate enough to earn her ire. His gaze shifted from the numerous texts to the ornamentation that adorned almost every wall. Ydari had difficulty in understanding such flourishes since they served no practical function.

  The Queen was sat at the desk and she looked up as Ydari stood to attention stiffly. She was adorned in an ornate white dress with purple gilding and her long blonde hair fell about her shoulders which glistened with the brilliance of burnished gold. She had soft and delicate features but her most dominant were her eyes which shone a brilliant blue. The Queen possessed an intimidating stare that could bore into the very soul of anyone who beheld her countenance and she would often use this to devastating effect. The Queen rose to her feet and Ydari bowed deeply. She was only an inch shorter than the man before her and was only three years his junior and yet she had a bearing that commanded respect. Elhara smiled to herself but regained her composure as Ydari rose. She motioned to the Guard Captain to take a seat on a small chair while she retook her own at the head of the desk. There was a polite and rapt silence before servants suddenly entered the room and set out two glasses and a pitcher of water on the table. Dutifully, the royal food taster took a cursory sip of the water before nodding once professionally and leaving the room without a word. The silence lasted a few seconds too long before Elhara cleared her throat and began speaking.

  “So kind of you to have answered my summons today,” the Queen began, “I presume the crime you were tackling in your bed has been swiftly dealt with? I was beginning to think there was a significant crime spree, considering how many times you failed to come to the palace,” said Elhara. Ydari visibly squirmed in front of her, much to her delight.

  “Your Majesty, I usually have pressing matters that require my attention…” Ydari started lamely before he was silenced by a raised hand from his sovereign.

  “It's fine, I was only speaking in jest,” said Elhara. Ydari shifted uncomfortably in his seat once more, the familiarity between them apparently making him uncomfortable. “But I am pleased you were able to come today. I have need of your counsel and help and I trust precious few with this,” the Queen continued, her voice now turning serious.

  “Your Majesty, I am yours to command, as always,” Ydari replied, he too sensing the sudden shift, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. In spite of their shared history, this was a rarity for this level of intimacy. “Is something troubling your Highness?” asked the Captain.

  “Yes, there is, very much so. I will never forget the years of loyal service that your family has given which is why I now call upon your sage counsel. The King of Tirgaal has died and the circumstances are most disturbing. Some, including myself, think that King Aynhar was poisoned and his son is only nine years old which leaves his brother as Regent until he comes of age,” Elhara began, shifting in her seat as she spoke. “This obviously has troubling long-term implications for both our kingdoms.”

  “Obviously there is more to this than meets the eye; otherwise you would not have sent for me,” replied Ydari.

  “There is, unfortunately,” the Queen replied softly. “About a week after news of these events reached this palace a similar attempt was made on my life,” Elhara whispered. The Queen turned her gaze to Ydari’s face and his remained stony but his jaw clenched visibly. “We were fortunate on this occasion but it cost the life of one of the imperial chefs which is why stronger precautions have already been implemented. But I cannot help but think these two events are related and another attempt may be imminent.”

  “What makes you so certain your Majesty? Certainly, this is a brazen act and the timing is definitely coincidental but what other suspicions lead you to believe that the would-be assassin will try again? Did you catch the individual behind the first attempt?” asked the Guard Captain.

  “Nothing is known so for certain but it’s just a feeling that I’m sure that this is all related and we haven’t seen the last of this matter. As my father always told me; trust your first instinct; and every fibre of my being is screaming at me to be wary,” the Queen said in that same low whisper. “As for the first assassin he was no common street thug. They found the body of a chef stuffed under a shelf and an empty vial was found on the assassin after a thorough search. We also found he had this on him.” Elhara reached into her sleeve and extracted a piece of paper that had been folded and slid it across the table towards Ydari. “This was the most unsettling part,” said Elhara.

  “Azreus’ beard,” Ydari swore as he unfolded the paper and saw what the page held. On the parchment a detailed blueprint of the palace’s interior had been drawn including information related to the rotation of the Guards. “Now I see your cause for concern. What became of this assassin?” Ydari asked, he too now keeping his voice low.

  “He is being held in the dungeons under the palace. I felt it prudent that this matter be handled delicately to not arouse the suspicions of those who planned this and to not cause panic within the court. The Kingdom needs stability right now, not chaos,” Elhara said sagely. She leaned forward in her seat almost anxiously but Ydari could see her face had become a mask of iron. “This is why I came to you. I need someone I can trust who works outside of the palace. I must think of the possibility that someone who works here was the source of this information leaving these grounds.”

  “I think that is probably the only way this information was given. I’ll speak to this assassin in the dungeons and see what I can learn. I will do everything in my power to find the source of this threat to your life and end it as quickly and quietly as possible,” Ydari swore.

  “Thank you,” the Queen replied gratefully. She leaned back in her seat. “Use whatever resources you need, just as long as they can be trusted and have no connection to the palace.”

  “As you command your Highness,” Ydari said formally. He stood as he said this, taking a knee before his sovereign and crossing an arm over his chest. “I swear your Majesty I will find the answers you seek.”

  “I know you will Captain,” Elhara replied. “Tell me, before you go, what I can do to tempt you in to working in my personal guard once more? I never did get the full story of why you left the palace the way you did,” the Queen asked.

  “Respectfully highness, nothing. It was the politics of the court. I couldn’t take those sycophants smiling at you as if they were a friend, all the while plotting in the shadows like a common criminal. That’s why I like my current posting. It's simpler to tell friend from foe,” Ydari responded as he rose to his feet. “Also, I should apologise in advance for agitating your Chamberlain. He was especially smug today and I did my utmost to wind him up,” Ydari said with a wry grin.

  “I’m sure I can forgive you on this instance,” the Queen responded magnanimously, returning his grin with a smile of her own, both of them almost forgetting the grave events they had just recounted.

  “By your leave,” Ydari grunted before nodding his head once more and turning to leave the room. The Queen nodded once in reply. She turned and listened to the door open and close as she took a position by the window; staring out at the expanse of the city stretching away below her as she tried to calm her unsettled mind.

  ***

  The sun hovered in the air oozing a deep crimson across the sky and creating deep shadows that lined the narrow streets of this foreboding city. Dozens of spires were silho
uetted against the evening sky creating the impression of a mountain range of stone towers that separated the Sand District where the poor lived in squalor from the monolithic towers that denoted the wealthier Plateau District. A shadowy hooded figure moved through the putrescence and decay that comprised the daily filth that seemed to accumulate in every corner of this desolated portion of the city. He inwardly shuddered as he looked at hunched, miserable figures. They resembled skeletons with the skin stretched tight across their wretched bones and every face that looked up at him was deeply pitted with the hollows that followed the desperate hunger. A couple of these poor wretches clawed at his finery as he hurried past them, much to his annoyance. His pace was abruptly slowed as these walking husks began to crowd around, seemingly from everywhere, and it was almost impossible to move past them in these narrow confines.

  Their pleading faces did little to move the hooded man but he reached into a pocket and extracted a single copper coin before throwing it offhandedly to the street. The tinkling sound the coin made as it struck the ground was music to the denizens of this filth and a couple scrambled after it. A brief fight ensued between two ragged figures before a solid blow felled the weaker man and he slumped into a heap. The sight of this amused the robed man and he used the distraction to slip on through the wall of human sludge. After a few minutes the beggars were left behind him in the dusk and he smiled to himself at having rid himself of their presence.

  “I don’t know why my father allows this scum to inhabit his city,” he grunted to himself. His gaze cast about the squalidness in which he found himself and the sight made him sick. “We should burn this entire quarter and replace it with something more practical, like a statue,” he guffawed, laughing at his own sick humour.

  The veiled outline ducked into a particularly gloomy alleyway. He cast a cursory look over his shoulder before heading down it. Halfway down its length a dilapidated building had been erected over it, casting the entire space into eternal gloom; the shadows beyond impenetrable to the human eye. The hooded man stumbled blindly down the cramped alley until his hand brushed past a door handle. He stopped in his tracks and slid back toward it; groping blindly in the dark. A few seconds passed before the man found the handle and gripped it firmly. The door stuck in the frame and he grunted as he heaved his weight against it. The wood flung open with a protesting squeal and the man half stepped, half fell, into the entryway beyond.