The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4) Read online

  ***

  Gladius charged in on a scene of carnage! King Elias lay dead in a pool of blood with the fingers on his outstretched hand barely touching those of his wife. She twitched feebly but no life shone from her eyes. Several guards lay among the other bodies, their blood mixing with that of three men Gladius didn't recognize.

  Fyrelm stood paralyzed, staring at du'Varl as he calmly wiped his blade clean on the shirt of one of the King's cousins. Quincy Connor Harold Edders, who joined both Fyrelm and Elias for many summers at Gladius' estate. The man du'Varl had just killed!

  "Halm's balls, du'Varl," spat Gladius, "What madness is this?! What have you done?"

  Feet pounded from the hallway as Elder Guards arrived. They looked about in confusion and finally drew needlers and concussion pistols to cover everyone save Gladius. The senior serjeant looked at Gladius but kept silent.

  "Lay down your weapons." du'Varl gazed arrogantly at the guardsmen. "That is a command! Put away your weapons or you will be executed for high treason against the Crown!"

  Again the men looked at Gladius but none moved his weapon.

  "L-laird Josef..." Fyrelm barely managed those words.

  "Rest easy, cousin. I do not wish you dead or harmed, nor you Lucius. Calm yourselves. You are in no danger. Guards! Lower your weapons, I said! None here is guilty of any crime!"

  "No crime," said Gladius incredulously, "Not guilty? You say that with Noble blood dripping from your blade, du'Varl?! The treason is..."

  "The treason," interrupted du'Varl, "is not by my hand, Lucius! Halm's beard, man, are you still too blind to see?"

  Gladius tried to speak but no words came forth.

  "You are. Cracks in the Crown, you are!" du'Varl sheathed his blade. "Listen, then, for a moment. Calm yourself, Cousin Edgar. What I have done this day is to the best of the Crown, its worlds and its peoples. I have this day set us on the path toward our rightful destiny ruling our worlds in peace and prosperity!

  "King Elias? Pah! A young fool of an Edders with his thoughts too small and his shoulders too soft to bear the Crown of Stars! He was young but youth vanishes with age. He lacked experience but that can be gained. Do you yet not see? House Edders is weak! Among the lot of them they have not the spew to spit on a pirate ship, much less best one in battle! They haven't the will to rule nor the strength to command!

  "All who swear fealty to the Crown deserve a King who will lead! A King who will command. A King with the mettle to stretch forth his arm and take what is his by right! A King with the will and the willingness to rule; not a King who will snivel over the color of his cloak, or offer wine with his own hand!

  "Cousin. The only way our Houses and worlds will survive and thrive is with great and durable will and resolve. The will and resolve of Hermann Rene du'Varl! Great and Noble Houses? Peh! The blood of our forefathers has weakened to the point of water, Edgar. Lucius' House still holds some of its former strength but even the Great and Noble House of Gladius is nothing to what it once was!"

  du'Varl turned his attention to Gladius.

  "Our worlds must have strength, man! Think, Lucius. Think back to the Moot that just named this man King. How many Lairds and Ladies nattered and moaned about the rabble outside our borders? How many of them snivel and whine for more Elder Guardsmen when they themselves are too weak and timid to defend their own worlds? Eh?"

  More people rushed into the room. The Guards took the surviving members of du'Varl's group into custody but very carefully did not touch any Nobles or Notables. The lead serjeant did gently pull Elias' cloak over his face, then the rest of the Edders there.

  "You are mad, Josef," said Gladius.

  du'Varl turned his attention again to Fyrelm.

  "Mad, am I? What say you, cousin? Is it madness to betray the blood we share? Is it madness to moan and deplore what we should conquer and defeat? Is it madness to turn away the power to lead the Crown into greater glory when it is thrust into your hands? I think not!"

  "du'Varl..." Gladius half-drew his own blade.

  "Stay your hand, Lucius! Do not shame and stain your House by spilling Royal blood."

  du'Varl smiled with obscene smugness at Gladius' expression.

  "Oh yes, Laird Gladius. With the most unfortunate death of King Elias and with no Edders heir to petition the Moot, the Crown passes to the blood of du'Varl. Indeed, old friend, of this I am quite certain. With the Crown in abeyance and contention within the Moot, the Crown passes to the blood of du'Varl. Why else should I work so diligently to place that Edders on the throne?"

  "You... what?!" Fyrelm finally managed enough voice for that.

  "Oh yes, cousin. My father started the matter after the Strik Palfrae war. Had the Crown forces been stronger and our Houses less divided we would have won handily and with less than a quarter of the casualties we took. He was as patient as he was capable yet he saw nothing past uniting our Houses once again.

  "Why should the blood of du'Varl oppose the blood of du'Varl, cousin? Why should the Great and Noble Houses of du'Varl and Brightcrown stand apart? We share his blood, why should not we share his purpose as well? This we will accomplish and more besides! Think on it, boy. We share his vision and his strength. The Crown is ours by right!"

  More than a few Nobles voiced outrage at that. Lady Hallings buried her head in Laird Toms-Watt's shoulder and he looked pasty and sick. Laird Sjoerd had a white-knuckled grip on his dagger. By the look of the Elder Guardsmen closest they shared his feelings.

  "Well, Lucius?" du'Varl dismissed Sjoerd with a glance.

  "I cannot contradict that," said Gladius finally, wishing to say anything else, "But I cannot confirm it now. I must review specific details of Precedence before I can do either."

  du'Varl waved his hand in dismissal. "Do so, Lucius. I have done so quite thoroughly and you will find I am right. By right and by Oath, the Crown passes to the blood of du'Varl and I am the eldest in that line. I suggest you contact my fellows and have them prepared to convene the Moot."

  With that, du'Varl walked arrogantly out of the room.

  ***

  When Herald McCraid pounded his staff on the floor he had tears streaming down his face. Nor was he alone: Lord Elias was well-beloved before his coronation, always more willing to work with his peers than against and always minded of all his subjects and not just those of noble blood.

  Acting as the Crown's steward until they raised another King, Gladius decreed two days of mourning followed by another three of celebration. He hoped the new King would extend the latter, but if du'Varl took the throne most of the other Nobles would see it as an insult. Gladius himself took time out of his studies to give King Elias, Queen Rhianda and their slain kin their final honors.

  Seeing the young boy and his wife, now lifeless, hurt Gladius more than he could bear yet still he managed the words. More than just he turned their heads away when du'Varl walked past and placed his hand on the casket. More than a few Noble hands gripped their blades at that moment. For once in his lifetime Gladius doubted his ability to stop one Noble from slaying another, especially when such action ran so counter to his desires.

  "Lairds and ladies, order please."

  The Moot convened on Elias' second day of mourning. That wasn't proper but du'Varl hinted, via messages delivered by his pages, that his patience was thinning and that he had matters of import to attend. That rankled Gladius. du'Varl knew that and Gladius knew he knew it. That rankled too.

  Edgar Robert caused Gladius no small distress as well. He hadn't seen the lad since that horrible night. When he passed Elias' body his expression hardened and he wouldn't meet Gladius' eyes. At first Gladius thought the young Fyrelm might try something both reckless and foolish. He didn't, nor did any of his court hint that such might happen and that gave Gladius more cause to worry.

  "If it please the Great and Noble Houses of the Hausmoot, we have a question at hand."

  Gladius had a strategy. He'd read the same Precedence as du'Varl, but the La
irds of the Great and Noble House of Gladius had far more experience with the intricacies of it. Even more, he had the Laird of the Great and Noble House of Lore assisting him. Ennobled by decree, Lore would never have a King elevated from its ranks. Not that its members cared for such things; knowledge and knowledge alone motivated them. Lore's current Laird, Albert Sage James, began his life as the fifth child of two of the poorest folk on Astraboria and earned his titles through sheer talent and an unquenchable thirst for learning.

  "I have searched and researched the Rules of Precedence thoroughly," said Gladius, tearing himself away from his dithering, "Albert Sage James Laird Lore assisted me in this."

  More than assisted! How James managed to circumvent House Lore's vaunted neutrality in Royal matters enough to lead Gladius to what he needed Gladius neither knew nor cared.

  "In such an instance as this, this most grievous event, the Rules are clear. Until such time as the Moot can agree unanimously upon a suitable candidate, the Crown goes to the blood of Herman Rene du'Varl."

  Gladius had one play in his cards. It might work, it might fail or it might plunge the Crown into the bloody civil conflict the Precedence existed to prevent. Only one fact forced Gladius to consider it now. He knew unanimous acclaim among the Houses would never be reached as long as du'Varl sat as King. Several of the Great Houses and numerous of the Lesser allied themselves with Varl; they would speak 'nay' to any candidate lacking du'Varl's approval. Similarly, Brightcrown and no small few of the Greater and Lesser houses would stand in opposition of any candidate du'Varl or one of his minions suggested.

  Gladius steeled himself. An under-the-cloak message to the Elder Guards' commander and the man doubled his contingent here, subtly, without question.

  "Edgar Robert Christopher Fyrelm Laird Brightcrown. The Hausmoot of the Great and Noble Houses of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars now calls you to serve as our Great Laird and King. By the Great Oaths you have spoken for your House and for yourself, now stand and serve."

  There! He spoke the critical words without incident.

  "What?!" Fyrelm looked at Gladius as though hit with a brick.

  "What?!" du'Varl's expression turned livid with fury. "I am eldest, Lucius! My blood is..."

  Sudden scandalized whispers erupted across the Moot.

  "Irrelevant," interrupted Gladius, loud enough to quiet the others. The next words were critical! "Both I and Laird Lore have checked the Rules of Precedence thoroughly, Josef, and they are clear. They say only '... the blood of Herman Rene du'Varl shall ascend to the throne.' They are not further qualified nor are they excepted for the existence of more than one Great or Noble house of his blood. They specifically do not mention the age of that blood or its strength."

  After a pair of quick, angry breaths du'Varl's expression turned sly.

  "Very well, Lucius. You may play your games. I congratulate you on finding a way to deny me my due, but no matter." He turned to face Fyrelm. "Cousin Edgar, it appears you are to be our new King. Huzzah and the Great and Noble House of Varl speaks 'aye!' Perhaps the Crown of Stars will seal the schism between our Houses, yes?"

  "Perhaps."

  As Edgar Robert approached, Gladius felt an icicle through his heart. Something hid behind the lad's eyes. Something knowing. Something Gladius now feared to see. Fyrelm glanced at du'Varl and took a knee before Gladius. The Moot chattered with quiet gladness now, they'd not seen the awful thing in Fyrelm's eyes.

  Could the lad have been a willing partner in du'Varl's plan? Before yesterday Gladius would have dismissed that thought out of hand but now it gnawed at him. Fyrelm's strange behavior at King Elias' funeral, his inaccessibility and now his expression... He took the sword and accepted Gladius' homage and that of du'Varl as well.

  Gladius knew he wasn't as young as he once was but surely age had not blinded him this much!

  "Thank you, my Laird Gladius."

  The intrigue in and behind the boy's words froze Gladius' soul. du'Varl's smile all but confirmed it! Had they concocted this mad plan between them? Could even young Fyrelm read his old mentor and friend so easily? Had even the Tragic Schism that split House Brightcrown away from House Varl been nothing more than a sham?

  "My Lairds and Ladies," said Fyrelm to the Moot, "Do you accept me one and all?"

  The Moot voiced a mostly-unanimous 'Aye.'

  "I'm sorry, Uncle Marius," said Fyrelm, now in a voice only the other two could hear, "He is my family. I cannot betray my family, my very blood."

  du'Varl's smile broke Gladius' spirit into shards.

  "My Lairds and Ladies," said the stranger Gladius once thought he knew, "I swore the Crown's Oath when I took the name of Brightcrown. Before that, I swore Halm's Oath to my House, to its people and to all the people of the Crown Worlds. We of House Brightcrown, with the blood of Rene du'Varl strong among us and with the honor of Fuer Halm, the Helm of Fire upon us, live that Oath every second of every moment of every day of our lives."

  Hot tears formed in Gladius' eyes. Of all the Great Houses only Brightcrown and Gladius routinely swore both Oaths. It pained Gladius to hear Fyrelm profane it so.

  "My Lairds and Ladies, I cannot betray my blood. I cannot betray my very family. For that reason, and given the egregious and tragic circumstances that put me here, I cannot serve the Crown as you have called me to do.

  "Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars," said Fyrelm quickly, before du'Varl could find his voice, "In the name of Halm's Oath and by the blood and upon the blood of Hermann Rene du'Varl I do hereby renounce and abdicate my right and the right of the blood of du'Varl to bear his sword or to wear his Crown!"

  The Moot gasped as one! du'Varl first paled, then flushed red with anger. He made some low, inarticulate growl, deep in his chest, as he reached for his blade.

  Faster than Gladius could see, Fyrelm had the Crown's Blade bared and ready to strike.

  "I truly cannot betray you, cousin," said Fyrelm, "So I cannot strip you of your name or your House of its standing. But I will not betray my father's blood nor that of my ancestors by allowing your atrocity to go unpunished!" A pair of tears slid down Fyrelm's face but he held his blade firm and steady. "Draw your steel if you wish, du'Varl, but by Fuer Halm and by the Crown and by the blood we both yet share I shall strike you dead where you stand!"

  Time and silence both stretched as the two men stood staring at each other. Gladius saw the calculations crossing du'Varl's face. While he had age and experience, Fyrelm had youth, passion and a total disregard for the consequence of his act.

  du'Varl lowered and sheathed his blade and backed away. When Fyrelm felt safe he sheathed the Crown's blade.

  "I spoke truly, Uncle Marius." Fyrelm sounded apologetic. "I really couldn't betray him. I also studied my Precedence. There are a few conditions under which... exceptions can be made. This is one of them. By right and by Rule the Crown now passes to the Great and Noble House of Gladius."

  Now Fyrelm smiled.

  "Take a knee, my Laird."

  Chapter 1. Battle Stations!

  Commander Oscar Templeton, captain of the LNCN-22104 Jackson Lee, looked hard at the readouts around the bridge. The LR scan showed a lot of clutter, which meant a lot of places for... things... to hide. They had some possible pings that might be odd bits of space junk or they might be something else.

  "Scan. Go over the last five minutes again. High-speed, high-res. See if you can spot me a pattern."

  "Aye, sir." Hedric 'Hed' Jones rushed to comply.

  "Helm, vector center low. Bring us toward the stat center but not too steep. Make your angle four degrees."

  "Aye sir."

  "Comm, contact the Fischer and the Sultan. Rear flank but hold distance and take our heading."

  "Aye sir."

  Even with stochastic enhancement the scan showed nothing. Still, the latest SecCom reports had activity in this area and Templeton felt something out there.

  "Fischer and Sultan acknowledge, sk
ipper." Anna Belaada, the chief communications officer, spoke those words in the same even tone she used for everything.

  "Viv. Assessment."

  Vivian LaRue, Templeton's executive officer, collected her thoughts before speaking. As always.

  "I've got squelch, skipper, but this is the most likely place for bandits to hide. It's close enough to the routes they hit and there's plenty of clutter there to hide behind."

  "I concur. Time to raise the ante. Helm, plot a microjump fifty-close to the stat center. Comm, notify Fischer and Sultan and have them close-echo our jump."

  "Aye, sir." "Aye, sir."

  Sector Command reported incursions and local ComCen dispatched ships. In this case the force commander dispatched the Jackson Lee, a heavy destroyer, and a pair of long-range frigates to investigate.

  "Jump plotted, sir."

  "Thank you, Mister Sylov. Make our jump in thirty seconds."

  Templeton sat down and strapped in. Around him the bridge crew hustled in organized chaos as they executed the microjump protocol. It pleased Templeton that he didn't have to micro-manage his crew. He knew them and they him. Other captains either enjoyed or felt compelled to go through every step of every protocol but Templeton credited his crew with both smart and sensible, and so far they'd not let him down!

  The Jackson Lee jumped, followed less than ten seconds later by the Fischer and the Sultan after another seven.

  "I got signal! Definite contact, skipper!"

  "Phase down, Hed," said Templeton, "Initiate hostile contact protocol."

  "Escort contact established," reported Belaada.

  "Hostile is vectoring toward us," said Jones, "Uncertain on number or composition. If there's more than one they're mighty tight in."

  "Scan 'em hard, Hed. We need to know!"

  "Aye, skipper. Initial read is a single hostile... Wait. Launch detected! Launch detected! Missile swarm, sir. Looks like fifty nails, sir. Unknown payload."