Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

They were gathered in the great hall of Glosstyr’s majestic fortress. A final council of war. Ransom led the meeting, which consisted of Simon of Holmberg, Dearley, Dawson, James Wigant, Lord Faulkes, and three lesser lords who had come after receiving word of the treaty and Estian’s attack. The look of rivalry between James and Faulkes showed the bitterness between the two men. They were done with fighting each other, but their mutual antipathy hung in the air like smoke.

“Any word from Kiskaddon?” James asked after Ransom had explained the situation and the lopsided balance of power between the kingdoms.

“None,” Simon answered flatly.

James looked haggard and worried. He had a bruise on his cheek and scratches on his brow.

“Why not go to Kingfountain, combine our forces, then return to break the siege against Thorngate?” Faulkes suggested.

Dawson leaned forward. “Because Thorngate cannot last that long. It’s not a powerful fortress. According to our sources, Estian’s army has already broken past the outer walls—”

“How did they manage that so quickly?” Faulkes countered angrily.

“He brought siege engines,” Dawson said, glaring at Faulkes. “He’s planning to use them on Kingfountain itself.”

“And you know this how?”

Ransom held up his hand to stop Dawson, who looked ready to punch Faulkes in the mouth. The man had feelings for Cecily, and she was there in the castle to protect the queen, Lady Deborah, and the princess. Estian had the Wizr board, so he knew exactly where they were. Slipping out of the castle would be too risky. No, they had to wait for help to come to them.

“Estian has the interior of the town,” Ransom said. “The last message arrived during breakfast. They’ll try to break through the keep. We don’t have much time.”

“We have the hollow crown,” James said. “Why not name our own king? Forget the charter.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Faulkes growled.

James gave his enemy a withering look.

“That’s not possible,” Ransom said.

“It is, actually,” James countered. “Hear me out. Ransom . . . it could be you—”

“No!” Ransom shouted, loudly enough that the room fell silent.

“You alone command enough respect,” James persisted. “Not a boy, not that boy.”

Ransom shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand the situation pretty well, I think,” James said angrily. “Estian has come with his full force. We do not have enough men to counter him. If we go to Kingfountain, we’d at least stand a chance. Let Thorngate fall.”

“No!” Dawson snarled.

“Why not you, Wigant? Why don’t you be king?” Faulkes taunted.

“I am of noble blood, but sadly I lack the resources and don’t command the respect. Give it to Kiskaddon, then! But breaking the siege at Thorngate will accomplish nothing.”

“If it were your wife and child there, would you feel differently?” Dearley asked pointedly.

James frowned and shot an angry look instead of a reply. Then he threw up his hands. “If only this abominable rain would end! Some of the roads have already washed out, and there are rivers of water coming from the hills. It must end eventually.”

“It won’t end until this conflict ends,” Ransom said. “Our kingdom will be flooded. The rain will not stop. Winter will not come. We will be trapped in perpetual autumn until there is no way to grow food, no way to live, and no way to escape.”

Faulkes looked at him with incredulity, James with confusion.

“But it’s only a storm,” the duke of the North said.

Ransom shook his head. “No, it is a punishment. An ancient curse. It destroyed King Andrew’s court and shattered his kingdom. And it will befall us next if we do not band together and confront this threat to our realm.”

Faulkes shifted uneasily. “You sound rather certain of this.”

“Once the lad is crowned at Kingfountain, I believe the storm will end.”

“Then why not crown him now and see?” Simon said. Turning to the others, he said, “Look, gentlemen, I know this is difficult to understand, but there are forces at work here that you do not know about. But I can assure you they are very real. The sea heaved itself beyond its bounds and took the king’s treasure. Maybe you’ve heard about a similar incident that happened on the bridge outside the sanctuary of Our Lady—”

“We don’t have time for a coronation ceremony,” Ransom said, breaking in. “We don’t have time to summon the deconeus of the sanctuary of Our Lady or even St. Penryn. If we don’t break Estian’s army here and now, we may be securing our own doom. We cannot abandon the defenders of Thorngate. I know Estian. I know what he’s capable of.”

“That’s what worries me,” Faulkes said. “He’ll want revenge.”

“So we must stop him,” Ransom said. “We must go . . . today . . . now! I know you’re both weary of fighting, but you are needed. Devon needs you.”

“What if we lose?” James said.

“With that attitude, how can we not?” Dawson quipped.

James glared at him. “Will someone shut this upstart up?”

Ransom appreciated Dawson’s exuberance, but a knight railing against a duke was disrespectful. He gave Dawson a subtle shake of his head, and the knight sat back angrily.

He faced the others in the council with a stern gaze. “If we fall, if everyone abandons the boy but me, do you know what I will do? I will carry him on my back. And as long as I can hold him up, I will hop from island to island, from kingdom to kingdom, even if I have to beg for my bread. That is what I am willing to do to see this kingdom saved. What of you?”

He was willing to do more. He was willing to give up his own life. But he felt a nudge of warning not to say so.

The passion in his voice affected them.

“I’ll go with you,” Dearley said.

Dawson grunted and nodded in affirmation.

Simon nodded as well. “To the end, my lord.”

Ransom turned to Faulkes next.

The lord had been loyal to Jon-Landon while he was alive. But he hadn’t wanted to watch the king die. His allegiance could not be counted on.

“Aye,” Faulkes said. “I’ll do it for the princess and the prince. None of this is their fault.”

They turned as one to look at Lord James.

He sat unflinching. His teeth were clenched with anger, and his fingers gripped the armrests of his chair.

“I left my wife and child at Ploemeur,” he said finally and firmly. “And that is where I am going next. You can have the realm. I’m done with it.”





Ransom dispatched a letter to me, despite the storms raging over Glosstyr. The king is dead, and his body is being sent to Kingfountain for the final rites. But Ransom is not going there. He is determined to face Estian alone and drive him out of Ceredigion or perish. These unnatural storms will only subside if the boy Devon becomes king. That is what the Fountain told him, he said. He said it might be his last letter to me and that he goes willingly to face his foes. He asked me not to mourn if the worst happens, but how can I not? How can I face the rest of my life without him? Fate is cruel, but she has claimed Ransom as her own. Little Sibyl asked why I was weeping. I cannot tell the children. Not yet.

For I fear these may indeed be the last words I get from him.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

(news from the storm)





CHAPTER THIRTY


Thorngate Castle


It was a miserable trek through mud and rain. They traveled with no wagons, which would have been bogged down by the driving rain, but instead bore their rations themselves, trudging eastward on their horses through an endless drizzle. There was no sun during the day, no moon at night. Only the ever-present pall of the storm and damp and the rust smell of their armor.