Chapter 36

Something was rotten in the state of Galadin. Prince Orin could feel it to his very bones. Perhaps it was the way Masonae was sticking to him like glue along the ride to Vilane, or maybe it was the subdued nature of the noblemen as they processed along the road. Orin had tried to find Brother Hricks, but as soon as he’d gotten close, Hricks let out a wail and ran off back into the castle. Actually, his unease most likely stemmed from the fact that Brother Valdin had actually been nice to him.
Masonae still rode on the side of the road, as if not daring to have his horse trod on the dirt, but he kept pace with Orin, who in turn kept pace with Cybele.
They’d given her a horse to ride, but she’d immediately dismounted at the first tree they’d come across. Now they slowed their progress so she could greet every tree they passed. Since the road led them along the Argon Forest, there were an awful lot of trees.
“Oh, look,” Brother Valdin said as they reached a part of the road that dipped fairly far into the trees, “we’ve lost sight of the rest of the noblemen. I’ll ride and tell them to slow a bit. Masonae, why don’t you come with me?” Valdin looked pointedly at Masonae.
“Actually,” he replied, “I think it would be a good idea to stay near Cybele. She’s the seed, after all.” Masonae stared pointedly back at Valdin. There was definitely something going on that Orin was not privy too.
“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be just up the way, if you need anything.” Valdin spurred his horse into a gallop, and rode up the road.
Orin glanced over to Masonae. He looked nervous, as if he expected a horde of dragons to come attacking.
“Are you going to tell me,” Prince Orin finally said. “Or am I going to have to guess?”
Masonae withdrew his bow and an arrow, but didn’t point it anywhere.
“Brother Valdin has this crazy idea that I want to be king,” Masonae finally said. “So you’re supposed to meet with an accident, so I can take Cybele to the tree.”
“Oh.” Orin withdrew his sword. “What kind of an accident?”
“He wasn’t very specific.” Now Orin was eyeing the trees. Cybele continued along, blissfully unaware of the two men on horseback, preparing for war.
“Why does he think you want to be king?”
“I just think he doesn’t like you very much, and he thinks I’m convenient.”
“But you don’t want to be king?”
“I don’t even want to be a lord.”
“Then why have you come to join me, and frankly saved my posterior several times?”
“Well, I’d begun to think we were sort of friends.”
“Really?” Prince Orin thought about it. He didn’t really have any friends. He had nobles that sucked up to him, and servants that pampered him, and ladies that batted their eyes at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend before. Is that your only reason?” Prince Orin knew the answer before Masonae answered. He had secrets, the boy from the north. Like how his parents randomly came to save the day, and how they knew Master Lasser.
Masonae sighed. “The last time I told someone, they forgot me. It’s magic. A spell.”
“I won’t forget you.”
“I’d rather not take the chance.”
“But don’t friends tell each other their deepest secrets?”
“Now’s not a good time. I’ll tell you after you finish your quest.”
“But what if-”
Orin wasn’t able to finish his sentence as a rather rattily dressed fellow had swung down from a tree blocking the path. Cybele clapped her hands and laughed.
“Do it again!”
The man looked slightly stunned for a moment. He wore a large kerchief over his face, and his clothes looked as if they’d been sewn from rags, silken rags. He held a sword out in front of him, more as if it were a club than a weapon he was used to handling.
“Your money or your life,” he shouted. Completely unimpressed, Prince Orin turned to Masonae, who had already drawn and aimed his bow.
“Is this my accident?”
“I said your money or your life,” the man shouted again.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Masonae here is perfectly able to shoot you before you get close enough to with that sword to use it. Second of all, I don’t think you could use it to save your life, Tomlin.”
The man Orin knew as Mouth coughed and choked. “I’m not Brother Tomlin. I’m a highwayman. I’m here to rob you and tie you to a tree.”
“Okay, how about if we let you live and tie you to the tree?” Prince Orin said, leaning down over his horse.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Then I shall have to challenge you to a fight to the death. Prepare yourself, highwayman.” Orin dismounted and swung his sword about a few times.
“Just warming up. You should never start fighting without a few stretching exercises first.” Orin swore he could see Mouth’s knees knocking together.
“All right, I’m ready.” Orin took a fighting stance and motioned with his fingers for Tomlin to begin his attack. Mouth dropped his sword and ran. Masonae lowered his bow. Cybele grabbed a hold of the rope and began to swing back and forth on it.
“This is fun. Much better than one tree. I think I’ll stay here. I don’t want to join the Mother Tree. I want to be free.”
“Won’t you be free after you help the mother tree?” Orin asked, watching Mouth scramble back in the direction of Capital City.
“Can’t help or heal unless I join. Then I’m no longer me. Cybele will be gone.”
“What do you mean, Cybele will be gone?”
“So long, fair well, good bye gone.” Orin’s stomach began to sink.
“Gone? You mean dead?”
“Cybele will not be here any longer.”
The prince looked up at Masonae on his horse. He’d lowered his bow but looked as horror stricken as Orin felt. Numbly, Orin got on his horse and nudged her into a walk. Cybele followed after them, as if they’d not just had a conversation about leading her to her doom.
“I can’t believe we’ve come all this way…” He couldn’t finish, in more ways than one. He couldn’t sacrifice Cybele to officially finish his quest and become crown prince. He’d rather give up the title and live as a farmer somewhere. Though he’d probably have to get Masonae to show him the practical side of things.
Masonae looked as if her were about to cry. He seemed more heartbroken than either of them.
“It’s not as if it’s the end of the world,” Orin said with a forced cheerfulness.
“If Cybele doesn’t help the tree, then the magic will die.”
“We lived without magic once.”
Masonae didn’t reply. They rode on in silence for about a mile before Cybele screamed and ran ahead. Someone had chopped down a tree and laid it across the road. Cybele knelt by the tree, stroking it and weeping.
“It always helps to have a back up plan. That’s what I’ve learned after so many years at court,” Valdin said as he stood near the tree. He looked at Cybele and shook his head. “Oh, don’t be silly dear, it’s just a tree.”
“Did you really think Brother Tomlin was going to stop me?” Orin asked, dismounting.
“Well, if he would have gotten a little help, he had a chance.” Brother Valdin stared at Masonae, who was nonchalantly trying to renotch an arrow. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A group of noblemen popped out from behind the log. They all had their swords unsheathed. Sir Bontin came to stand next to Valdin.
“And now you’ve forfeited your chance to become king.”
“I never wanted to become king.”
“Not even for the chance to ban broccoli?” Valdin laughed.
“You’re not going to get away with this.”
“And why not? The two of you will simply disappear, and the dryad will come with us and Sir Bontin will complete the quest.”
“If you take her to the tree, Cybele will die,” Orin said.
“And that should matter to me? Give up. You’re quite outnumbered.” The lordlings were already beginning to gloat.
“I think the odds are in our favor,” Masonae said calmly from atop his horse.
“Two against fifteen? Ha!” Sir Bontin laughed. The other lordlings joined in.
“Five,” Masonae said simply. Orin smile. They were five, weren’t they?”
“I’ll give you four, if you count the girl and the cat… but that still leaves you outnumbered almost four to one.”
“I suppose, Your Highness, that he has forgotten about the secret and magical questing weapon,” Masonae said.
“I suppose he has. It’s a shame really. The Sword of Swords has yet to see any real action on this adventure.”
“I’m certainly ready to spill a little royal blood,” Sir Bontin said as he brandished his sword. What he tended to forget, was that Prince Orin had regularly trounced him in sparring matches.
“Alright. I’ll get you the chance before I set loose the questing weapon of massive destruction.”
Without waiting for an okay from Valdin, Bontin charged, sword high above his head. It was simple enough for Orin to side step the sudden attack, smacking the Sword of Swords against Bontin’s rear end. He turned and charged again, this time meeting the steel of Orin’s blade with his. Orin used Bontin’s forward momentum to hook his foot and send him sprawling on the ground.
Bontin got up with a growl and began to circle Orin, sword at the ready. Orin turned to face him with a smile. Bontin thrust widely and Orin deflected the blow and landed a one of his own that sent Bontin’s sword flying. It stuck into the fallen tree with a twang. Orin laughed and looked at Masonae.
“It looks like I finally found something I’m good at.” Bontin ran after the blade and began yanking it out of the tree. It was stuck quite well, and Cybele came up to him and began to pull his hair and hit him.
Bontin abandoned his attempt to pull the sword free and grabbed Cybele by the neck. He pulled her tightly against him with one arm, trapping her hands. The other hand began to squeeze her throat.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” Snult yelled as he crawled out of Masonae’s pocket. His growl started as a squeak but quickly changed to a roar as he catapulted himself to full size and blew a whiff of smoke at Bontin.
“You’ll have to eat her too, if you want to eat me.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to eat you. I think maybe I’ll just chew on you a bit and spit you out. You’d probably give me indigestion.”
The other lordlings took one look at Snult and scattered to the winds. Valdin was slowly backing away.
“I can eat him, though.”
“Go ahead, I don’t need him anyway,” Bontin said.
“I think we’re at an impasse,” Prince Orin stated as he cautiously approached Bontin.
“Not an impasse. I get what I want, and you lose.”
“Fine, I lose, just let her go.”
“Ha, I’m going to be king.”
“Okay, you can be king if you want to, just give Cybele to me.”
“I need her complete your quest, so your out of luck.”
“And if you kill her, you can’t complete the quest.”
“You can’t either.”
“We’re not getting anywhere here.”
Masonae cleared his throat from behind Orin.
“Let him go,” he said.
“Are you crazy?”
“No. Trust me.” Orin looked at Masonae. He was quite serious. He must have a plan of sorts, but on his life, Orin couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Just let him go?”
Masonae nodded and held out his hand to Orin. There didn’t seem to be many other options. Orin grabbed his hand and swung up behind him on his horse. Snult shrank and perched on his shoulder. Masonae reigned the horse back in the direction of Capital City, galloping back right in the middle of the road.
Prince Orin could hear Bontin’s laughter as they rode off.
“Care to tell me why we’re running away?”
“We’re not running away. We’re going for reinforcements.”
“But Capital City is a half a day’s ride. They’ll be to the tree by the time we get back.”
“We’re not going to Capital City.”
“That’s the only place this road goes.”
“Not when I travel on it.”