THE CRYSTAL THRONE by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER III
For as long as he could remember, Robin had been a king, although he had almost never lived as one. His first memories were of trees, tall, leafy green canopies covering a twilight maze of brown, grey and olive. Feguna was the wood elf into whose care the infant prince had been entrusted. His mother had died in childbirth and his father, Oberon the Stalwart, left shortly thereafter to fight against invaders from the dark world.
Robin had grown up with the other wood elves, as one of them. He played the same childhood games and performed the same chores as any other youth in the community. But he always knew he was different. Feguna told him tales of the great court in the Palace of Esbereth. She taught him to be proud of his heritage, yet she allowed no prideful actions from him toward his peers. Robin remembered the times his ears burned with the taunts of his woodmates because his skin was so much paler than theirs, and because he couldn't climb quite as quickly. One day he decided he could take no more teasing and attacked his young friend, Clive who had been his worst tormentor. He could still feel the sting of the hazel switch across his backside after Feguna had dragged him back to their den. She probably would have let him off easy had it not been for the fact that he told her she had no right to punish her future monarch.
The years passed slowly, as they often do in the great wood. Slowly but surely the playmates of his childhood grew into adult wood elves. Many left their arboreal village to seek their fortunes in other parts of the forest. A few paired off and stayed to start their own families. Meanwhile, Robin continued to grow. He soon stood at least a head taller than the tallest of his peers. Feguna knew that the time was soon approaching when she would have to say goodbye to her ward.
One crystal clear spring morning the forest rang with news. Feguna knew the day had come. Why else would there be strangers in the great wood? The traveling sentries were in the village center telling of sounds they had heard, the tramping step of many horses and the jingle of harness bells. They had quickly returned with their reports before ever actually sighting the origins of the noise. But apparently a large company was moving into the eaves of the wood. Feguna looked for Robin in their den, to tell him of this news, but he was gone.
The forest pool, beside which he sat was an enchanted place. It was his own hideout, one of which no one else knew. The small pool of icy water appeared green, reflecting the shimmering, verdant light that filtered down through the forest canopy from high above. Roughly circular in shape and carved into a hillside, the pool was edged around by large flat stones, as if purposely designed. The cold water was circulated by a small waterfall splashing over old, stone boulders on one side, and a small brook taking away the run off just opposite. One particularly smooth stone formed a natural bridge over the edge of the pool where it spilled into the brook.
Robin loved to sit on the bridge and gaze into the dark olive depths. He often thought it would have made a great home for a water sprite. Sometimes he would pretend that the reflection of his own face was a sprite looking back at him. He would smile and his water friend would return the cheery expression. Whenever he felt troubled, he would stretch out on the flat stone bridge and unburden his heart. The silent sprite never interrupted, but always listened with a quiet grace.
That particular day Robin had risen early to go visit the pool. He was bothered by a strange longing. All of his playmates were forming lives for themselves, settling together in comfortable male-female partnerships or going off to explore other parts of the great wood, and Robin was left alone. There was, of course, Feguna, but she was old and grumpy. She had no time to listen to his heart, or share his dreams. He felt that he had no one but the handsome pool reflection. He longed for someone he could talk with, who would actually talk back. "I must leave this wood," he told his silent confidante. He felt it was time to seek his own destiny.
"Yes, you must," a quiet, sad voice replied. Robin was so startled he nearly fell from the rock into the water. He turned to see Feguna standing behind him.
"I . . . I did not mean . . ." he stammered.
She knelt beside him, taking his face in her care worn hands. "I know, little one. But the time has come for you to move on. A great company awaits at the forest gate to take you back to your birthright."
Suddenly, when faced with the reality of leaving everything he had ever known, it all seemed terribly wrong. It was one thing to contemplate such a radical change, and yet quite another thing to actually do it. He grabbed the old woman and hugged her tightly, as if he could hold on to this past and himself. "I cannot leave," he sobbed.
"Yes you can," she said firmly, pushing him back. "I have raised a king, and a king you shall be!"
"Then you will come with me?" he asked, drying his eyes on the scrap of cloth she handed to him.
"No, my young charge," she replied sadly. "My time is over. I have raised and protected you to adulthood. Now someone else will take you in hand." She stood, taking his hand and together they started down a forest path.
They walked on in silence, each thinking of times past. Normally, they would have taken the sky trails, bridges and paths through the tree tops formed by intertwining branches, but now they stayed on the ground. The winding path around the great tree trunks took much longer. Robin looked down at the old elf that walked slowly beside him, picking her path around the underbrush and the young saplings. He stared at the greyish white hair on her head, the color of birch bark. She turned her face to look up at him, and gave him a quick, reassuring smile. He etched her lined and wrinkled features into a 'poltarin,' a memory picture he would carry always in his heart.
All too soon the light changed as the trees began to thin. Suddenly, just ahead was a wide break between two tall forest giants. Beyond was a grassy meadow bathed in golden sunlight and dotted with clover and heartsease. "There is the forest gate." Feguna pointed to the opening. "A camp of high born await you just beyond."
Robin clutched her sleeve as she turned to go. She stopped and looked deeply into his green-gold eyes. He could see the tears beginning to fill hers. She reached up to gently brush a lock of his golden hair away from his face, and then she was gone. Robin turned to the forest gate and walked out into the sunlight.
Just as Feguna had said, the camp was set up under the forest eaves near the gate. There were a number of high born awaiting him as Robin stepped out of the wood. They all bowed low and then rising took him into a large striped tent. Inside he was introduced to a man named Thomas, a human. This was to be his tutor.
The camp was dismantled the next day and the caravan moved off across the prairie, taking Robin on his first journey into Tuatha proper and away from the great wood. He was told the journey to the Palace of Esbereth would normally take one month on horseback, but this troupe carrying tents, provisions and escorting many high born travelers, would take considerably longer. The tutor planned to make good use of the time to teach Robin many things he would need to know.
Thomas appeared older than anyone Robin had ever known, but of course that was because he was human. The skin on his face was folded and creased with age and his long hair and full beard were a bluish white in color. His hands were bony thin, the skin covering them looking as though it were paper stretched over a skeleton. Thomas appeared much older than Feguna or any of the village elders Robin had ever seen, and yet for all that, he stood erectly tall, a spring still in his quick stride and a vibrant spark of life in his blue-grey eyes. He told Robin the tale of how he had fallen in love with a fairy princess many long years ago and had followed her into the land of Faerie from his own world. Longing for his home, Thomas had left the princess and returned to humankind to dwell with them for several decades. When he became an old man he was again permitted to leave his world. Humans lived much longer here than in their own land, so he came back to stay. Having been highly favored at court because of his talents as a poet and musician, skills highly prized by all of Tuatha, Thomas was given the charge of educating and bringing the young prince home.
As the days of travel stretched on, Robin learned many things. He was taught the lay of the land and its history. He learned many things about his genealogy and race, the high born fair folk, that he never knew. Apparently they were quite different from the smaller woodlings he knew from childhood. Thomas taught him to read runes and gave him much in the way of knowledge, while he learned many other physical skills, such as the use of the bow, staff and sword, from some of the other elves in attendance. They worked him hard, but he was a bright and willing pupil.
At night the fair folk all gathered together in the center of the camp to sing. As the stars wheeled overhead, the long nights were filled with beautiful music of old; songs that told of love and loss, songs that told of dreams fought for and attained. But what Robin enjoyed most were the stories, poems and songs of old Thomas. His music came from a far away world and had an eerie quality about it that tugged at the young man's heart. The nights blended into the days with the strange songs filling his soul.
Robin learned much from his tutor. But, one subject that had almost never been mentioned was his immediate family. Whenever such a subject came up, everyone lapsed into stony silence, then quickly changed the topic of conversation. One day, while discussing Tuathan government Robin decided it was time to broach the issue. "Please, Master Thomas, tell me of my mother."
No one else was around, the two of them having ridden deep into the meadow to be undisturbed at lessons. Old Thomas grew silent and misty eyed for a time. Then he spoke. "Your mother, young sire, was the most beautiful lady in all of Faerie, with hair of spun gold and skin of polished alabaster. She was also the most gracious queen."
"Did my father love her?" the young man asked.
"Of course he did!" Thomas replied gruffly. "Everyone loved the lady Titania, especially your father, but he was the lucky prince to win her love in return."
"She died when I was born?" Robin asked.
"Yes."
"Had I no brothers or sisters?"
"No, young sire," Thomas answered sadly. "You were to be the first born and future king of the land. Your parents ruled many ages before you were conceived. In those days your race had grown weak. A great plague was upon the land. Children were rarely born, and those that were all too often died soon after. Many mothers died in labor. The high king, your father feared this for his lady and so they waited long. The high council finally forced the issue and your parents agreed to produce an heir to the throne. You know the rest."
"But I know not," Robin countered. "What of my father? Why have I never seen him? Why was I given to the woodlings?"
Thomas paused before answering, weighing what to tell the young prince. "Your father greatly loved your mother," he began slowly. "When he lost her, the life went out of his eyes. He sent you away because . . ." he paused, searching for the right words.
"Because he blamed me for her death," Robin finished.
"Because you reminded him of his lost love," the old man corrected. "Your eyes are very like hers."
"So why now am I suddenly wanted?" Robin asked, somewhat bitterly.
"Your father threw himself into combat to forget his pain. He left court to do battle in the Eldritch Mountains. He has not returned. While he was gone the council ruled in his stead, each member delegate serving a time as steward to the land. Of late there has been much bickering and threatening of hostilities as the last steward was ill-suited for command. The high council now feels it is time to find a new king. Many of the delegates have fallen into battle to choose who should rule, none thinking of the rightful king, nor the rightful heir. The palace knows that. That is why we are here to return you."
"Then this company is from the palace?" Robin slowly caught on.
"Yes and the high council is unaware that we are here. Once you are back at Esbereth they will have to recognize your claim to the throne and all will return to normal."
"Except for my missing father," Robin added.
A dark cloud crossed the old man's face. "We need a coronation, young master. When you sit on the crystal throne you can decide what to do about your missing father. Many of your knights will gladly go in search of him then. But they need a king now, someone to rule here!" Telling his story seemed to drain the old man of energy. He lapsed into silence. Robin, too, was silent, mentally digesting all he had heard.
The days stretched into weeks. Robin made good use of the time to assimilate many things about life at court, as well as to improve his combat skills in mock battles with his peers. As the caravan neared the Plains of Morinar, leading up to the foothills of the Crystal Mountains, the troupe slowed to a crawl. The elves donned the red garb of traveling merchants and the advanced guard redoubled their vigilance. This would not be a good time to be attacked by a contingent from one of the feuding council members.
Early one morning, Thomas came to Robin's tent. "Quickly, put this on," he ordered, tossing a scarlet tunic at the young man. Robin asked what was going on. "A large party is riding out to meet us. There may be nothing to it, but to be safe we will play the role of merchants. If asked, do not mention the wood elves. We have been nowhere near the great wood." Stooping to pick up Robin's green jerkin, the standard clothing of the woodlings, the old man quickly left.
Robin quickly performed his morning ablutions and then pulled the red tunic over his head. He cinched the belt and bolted from the tent, only to run headlong into the back of a tall guard standing directly in front of the tent opening. "Get back," the guard growled. "There may be trouble."
"I will not be protected like a child or old man," Robin shot back, and strode out into the center of the gathering. By now he could clearly see the brightly colored plumes dancing from the helmets of about thirty mounted men heading directly for the camp. As they drew near the riders split, one column heading left and another to the right. The armored horsemen formed a ring completely encircling the camp. As they drew to a halt, one rider slightly more colorful than the rest, wearing a flowing blue cape over his golden chain mail, slowly urged his horse forward.
Old Thomas walked out to meet the mounted man. "Father Thomas. What business have you in the company of a merchant caravan?" the horseman asked. "I was told you had died."
"It seems you're mistaken, Bailor," the old man replied.
"It seems I am. But you have not answered my question."
"These kind merchants volunteered to take me on a journey to see more of your world than just Esbereth walls."
"And had you leave to go on such a journey?"
"I was not aware that I was a prisoner," the old man answered a bit gruffly.
The caped horseman turned abruptly from him and shouted at the group that had gathered around. "Who is the leader of this troupe?" A tall, young man stepped forward from the crowd. Robin had often seen him in conference with old Thomas, but was never aware that he had any sort of authority in the group. The horseman dismounted and together with the merchant leader, walked toward the tents. The others quickly dispersed and found things to keep them busy. Robin returned to his tent.
An hour later they broke camp. The soldiers were apparently going to escort them to the palace. As soon as he was able, Robin made his way to Thomas' side. The old man told him that Bailor, the leader of this group, was a ranking lord in the western kingdom. He was staying at the palace with Melusine, his sister. They were apparently vying for a chance at the throne, and Bailor was currently serving as steward. Thomas felt that Bailor did not believe the merchant cover story and suspected something was afoot. They would all have to watch their steps.
As the prairie gradually rose to merge into the foothills, Robin noticed flashes of light shooting into the sky. They appeared to be centered directly ahead at the base of the nearest mountain. "Those flashes come from reflections off the tower tops at the palace," Thomas explained. "Tomorrow you will be able to see Esbereth in all its glory."