The Black Raider: Ch Five

Later that night  

            Aidan quietly and cautiously moved through the secret passageways of Prent’s Castle.  She had snuck in easily enough when the guards changed shifts. 

            She moved soundlessly through the small black, musty smelling secret corridors, keeping her hand on the walls to guide her where she needed to go.  Notches in the stone indicated where she was in the castle, and right now, she was coming up to the king’s chambers. 

            Suddenly, she was bombarded by memories of her youth when she spent months at a time here with Zacarias. Even though they weren’t supposed to, they snuck away into the secret passageways and played hide and seek, which was one of the reasons she knew these corridors so well. Distant childhood laughter filled her ears, a deep rooted pang lanced through her chest and heart at the distant, joy filled memories.

            She would have kept moving had it not been for the familiar voice murmuring on the other side.  Slowly, she pressed her ear to the dusty wall and listened. 

*** 

            Prince Zacarias leaned into the dark corner farthest away from his father listening but not really hearing his father and the steward arguing.  His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was bent forward slightly as he stared blankly at the ground.  He was dressed all in black, his sword belted lazily at his waist. 

            “But Sire, King Alaric has moved his army to the very western border of our country!  The only thing that is stopping him from attacking is the river separating our borders.  If it wasn’t for that he would have already struck.” 

            “That’s preposterous! He would never attack us! Both of our countries have been at peace for centuries.” Cyrus dismissed, agitated with his steward.  “We’ve been friends all our lives.  Our fathers were friends before us and their fathers before them.  Prent and Chaton have been bordering companions for centuries.  We would have united the countries years ago, if our forefathers had sired a daughter.”   

            Cyrus took a quick glance towards his son, Zacarias.  However, his son looked as if he wasn’t listening.  Sighing, he passed a hand over his face.  He was tired.  His muscles were sore and he was fed up with everything the steward complained about.  Stan kept trying to come up with reasons to attack Alaric and Cyrus would hear no more of it.  He knew Alaric would never attack him.  They were more or less brothers.  When they were younger they had lived side by side.  Only when the King of Chatan passed and Alaric had to take up the crown were they separated physically.  

            “This little thing with the soldiers is not a threat,” Cyrus said with finality.  “Alaric has probably moved them down so they can make sure nothing happens to their ports there.  As he always told me, he has had more problems with pirates and raids in his ports than with Prent thieves in his cities.” 

            “But Sire, just in case, send someone to talk to him; to find out for sure what is going on,” the Steward pressed. “That way, if he needs aid we can send some.”

            Cyrus did not answer quickly.  “Let me think about it,” he said as a final answer looking at the steward challengingly. 

            He understood the king’s tone and bowed out.  “I shall take my leave, sire.”

            Zacarias forced himself to take a deep breath.  Tears burned in his eyes and threatened to fall.  He felt so weak!  Still, to this day, even just the slightest reference to her felt like a knife wound to his heart.  The wound was still as deep and as fresh as the first day he learned of Aidan’s death.  He was tempted to reach up to his heart and see if it bled.  

            Slowly, he looked up at his father.  “Would you like me to go?” 

            Cyrus walked behind his desk, which was located in the farthest corner away from Zacarias.  He leaned against it.  “I do not know,” Vicktor answered truthfully after a few moments of silence. 

            “Well, if it would help put your mind at ease, I will go,” Zacarias offered pushing himself out of the corner.  He knew Stanley was constantly pressuring his father to attack Chaton.  He really suspected the steward was up to something, but couldn’t imagine the dimwitted fool to be that smart.  “I could drop in and say hello to Alaric and see what the true reason is for moving half of his fleet down to the river’s edge,” Zacarias continued. 

            “I don’t think you should go,” Cyrus confessed softly.  His did not look up at his son.  He couldn’t look up because he knew he would see the pain reflected in his son’s eyes.  He could not bear it, to see the stark pain there.  It reminded him of all he had lost when his wife fell deathly ill and never recovered.  He knew what Zacarias was going through, but his son was not able to put her in the past, and that bothered him greatly.  If his son was not able to forget her then how was he supposed to rule the country, marry and produce heirs?

            Cyrus was at a loss of what to do.  He had tried to keep the lines of communication open between him and his son after Aidan’s death, but Zacarias had closed himself off from the world.  And, in a way, he could not blame him.  He hadn’t been there for his son when Zacarias needed him most. 

            Cyrus sighed.  He had always been too busy for his son, and even now it was hard trying to find the time and patients to talk to him.  He regretted now never having time to spend with his son when he was younger.  Maybe then they would have been closer.   

            “You think I cannot do it?” Zacarias asked defensively.  

            Cyrus looked up at his son. “It’s not that. You are my only heir, Zac. If, for some reason, Alaric has lost reason and has decided to attack Prent, I do not want to put you at unnecessary risk.”