Son of the Hero

Dad didn't answer.

It was appropriately chilly in the crypt, and I got hungry almost at once, as ghoulish as that might sound. But I didn't leave. I was in no real hurry to get out of the crypt, and that surprised me.

It was eerie. The slightest noise echoed over and over, forcing me to pay attention, to look around me almost constantly, as if someone might sneak up on me down there.

I looked at the capstones on the other niches. There were a lot of them. The dates weren't A.D. or B.C., so I couldn't place them absolutely, but the numbers ranged from a high of 3713 down to a death date of 177 on the stone labeled Vara, right in the center. Looking at the wall, it was kings to the left and Heroes to the right.

Something happened. I don't have any idea what it was-something just inside my head, I think. I hope. I got so frightened, though, that I almost chickened out and ran for home again. When I could control the panic, I forced myself to stand there and look at the wall of burial niches again. I wondered where they would put me when the time came, if I served as both Hero and king. Which end would be mine? Or would they start using the other wall and put me in the middle opposite Vara? Gloomy thoughts in a gloomy place. Of course, the odds looked good that the question wouldn't arise. I might easily end up in the vault before Pregel. I assumed that that would put me next to my father, or just above him.

Gil Tyner, King of Varay? It sounded crazy, absurd. There was a surrealistic air about the entire situation. That feeling was as dangerous as the Elflord of Xayber or the Etevar of Dorthin. Maybe I hoped that standing in the crypt where we had buried the last Hero would help etch the reality in my mind. How can you prepare for mortal danger, make it feel as real as it has to feel? I didn't have a drill sergeant to scream at me, or ba

I guess I spent a couple of hours there, standing before the rows and layers of dead kings and heroes while my mind drifted wherever it wanted to go. Part of the time I thought about things Dad and I had done together. At times I could almost hear him talking to me-memory-talking, not spirit-talking-bits of lessons he had taught me, even some of the corny jokes he liked to tell just to hear people groan. I tried to come to grips with my resentment over the secret life my parents had led. Maybe all parents lead lives their children don't know about, but this was something more than a teenager's shock at learning that his "ancient" parents still enjoyed sex.

There was no way to recover the years of lies, no way I could change my own past to include Varay-despite Parthet's philosophy of history. Maybe I couldn't even extinguish the resentment I felt, but I couldn't let it fester. Forgive and forget? Not exactly. I wasn't ready to tell Mother, "That's all right what you did to me," because it wasn't. And I certainly didn't expect to forget.

I was as trapped as any of the people in those burial niches, and I was still alive to suffer the frustration of the trap.

Finally, I climbed the stairs back to my room. I even slept for a time, and this time there were no dreams. After a hearty breakfast and a round of farewells, I opened the passage to Castle Arrowroot and stepped through with Lesh and Harkane.

My war was about to start.

10 – A

The waters of the Mist lapped at the curtain wall of Castle Arrowroot, a constant background music. The castle sat at the angle where the coast bent north to form the Isthmus of Xayber. A broad moat wrapped around two-thirds of the fortress and co

"His Highness Prince Gil, Hero of Varay, wishes to be shown to Baron Resler, Castellan of Arrowroot." Even though Harkane's voice wasn't solidly sunk into its adult register yet, he sounded fairly impressive.

The soldier bowed his head toward me and said, "At once, Your Highness." Then he led the way.

Baron Resler was still at the table, eating breakfast with fierce determination, a scowl apparently glued to his face. The garrison soldier a

"Will you breakfast with us, Highness?" he asked.

"We ate before we left Basil, but perhaps a morsel or two, and coffee." I saw a steaming pitcher on the table. "Don't let me interrupt you."

Resler took me at my word. He seated me at his right and went on eating while a page brought me a platter and utensils, and poured coffee. I had to remind the boy not to give me heaping portions, just a sampling of everything. Eat, eat, eat, etiquette and need-a need I didn't fully understand. Lesh and Harkane found seats lower on the table. They showed no reluctance at shoveling in another full meal even though they had eaten at least as well as I had at Basil.

"We don't have time for social graces here," Resler said around his chewing. "We plunge right into the business at hand, even in the midst of a meal… if you have no objection."

"No objection at all, Baron." The coffee was stronger and more bitter than the usual brew at Basil. If you weren't expecting it, that coffee could cross your eyes. "I need the three best horses you have, this morning, and you need to get ready to move virtually all of your men to Castle Thyme about two weeks from now. The reasons for that will have to wait until we're alone." I took out the warrant that King Pregel had signed and sealed. Resler wiped his hands on his wool robe before he took the document and read it.

"The wizard was here two days ago," he said when he finished. "I knew your father, of course. I grieved to hear of his end. You look a lot like he did when he was younger." Resler's voice was gravelly, even when he spoke softly.

"The grief has to be postponed for now," I said. "We have to worry about all of Varay."

Resler nodded solemnly. "Perhaps we should go to my apartments to discuss what needs to be discussed."

At Arrowroot, meals didn't end when the big shots got up. I doubt that anybody even noticed when we left. Once Resler and I were alone, I told him the essentials of my plan.

"I know of the doorways, of course, but I never considered that they might be used to move an army," he said.

"That depends on my being able to get fresh sea-silver out of Xayber." I reminded him, not sure that he knew about the weed or its use. "That's why I need your best horses for my men and me."

"You'll get them. When will you leave?"

"As quickly as possible. You know the situation here far better than I do. What's the best time and route? What will give us our best chance to avoid the elflord's forces?"

"There's no certain time or road." He lowered his head and thought about it, holding up a hand for silence when I started to speak. "I think I'd best give you some idea what we face here first," he added.