The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy by Rosemary Fryth Page B

buckles of the helmet and straightened,
“It’s the plainspeople’s word for high king.”
    “Clan Chief
over all clan chiefs,” Bini added qualifying the explanation,
whilst lifting the tent flap so Aran and the others could move
outside the tent.
    Aran stepped
out into the cold, windy day and heard clearly the horns blowing
from Andur’s Keep.
    “That is our
signal, lord,” Darven said, “They are ready for us.”
    Aran nodded
and waited, whilst Alem quickly fastened the heavy wool cloak about
his mailed shoulders.
    The dozen or
so tattooed warriors of the horsetribes came up to Aran one by one.
Each golden-haired warrior murmured “Hail Riothamus,” whilst
bending his head, and hiding his eyes with his palm in some obscure
genuflection. Aran waited until the last of the warriors had formed
behind him, and then with a nod to Darven started the long walk
back to the Keep.
    As they neared
the stone walls, Aran could see the ranks of Guardsmen lined up,
barring entry into the Keep. Captain Taran and Bear Leader Caldor
stood at the very front of the heavily armed men, unsheathed swords
in their hands.
    “Who comes
seeking entrance to Seawatch Keep?” Taran shouted against the
screaming gulls.
    Alem walked
forward, “I Alem, Steward and Bondsman bring Arantur of Leigh, last
of the Andurian line, lord and Prince of this Keep and heir to the
Andurian throne.”
    “Who speaks
for him?” Taran asked.
    Darven walked
up to stand beside Alem, “I, Darven of Eastling…Wolf Leader of the
Andurian Guard speaks for him.”
    “Can you
Arantur of Leigh show us proof that you are of the Andurian line,
that you should be given entrance to this seat of kings?”
    Aran walked up
to stand between the two men. Slowly, and without fuss, he
unsheathed the King’s Sword and held it up. In the midday sun, it
flared suddenly with its own cold radiance.
    “We see
proof,” Taran replied, eyeing the brightly blazing weapon. “Enter
then Seawatch Keep and claim your inheritance Arantur of Leigh and
last of the Andurian line.”
    Aran lowered
the sword but did not sheathe it. Nodding to Darven and Alem, and
the group of warriors behind him, he watched as the Guard drew
aside to open a way for him and his company to pass through.
    Several steps
brought him under the gatehouse and into the Keep. Silently the
great doors swung shut, and the Guard formed into ranks behind the
plainsmen. Aran turned and saluted the half dozen guardsmen left
behind to watch over the security of the Keep during the
ceremony.
    “Let’s go,”
Aran murmured to Darven.
    The three men
stepped out and into the Keep, the plainsmen and Guard a phalanx at
their back.
    Swiftly they
walked back through the deserted yards and to the stone steps of
the internal Keep. Quickly they moved through the corridors and up
the stone spiral stairs, until they finally reached the massive oak
doors of the throne room. Captain Taran stepped forward and rapped
smartly on the doors with the pommel of his sword. Silently they
swung open to reveal the throne room filled to capacity with men
and women dressed in their finest and most ceremonial tunics and
gowns.
    Aran glanced
up and saw first the throne chairs garbed in flowers and cleansed
until they shone darkly in the midday sun. On either side of the
dais stood the mages, all were clad in robes of Glaive grey with
the coloured mantles of their Abilities draped about their necks.
Behind the mages were gathered the Councillors of Haulgard in their
uniform black gowns and caps. Standing close to the dais on one
side of the mages was Cody, Trevan, Alissa, and the girl who was
the Council’s choice for Queen.
    Aran smiled to
himself—Alissa was dressed in a gown of the darkest blue velvet, a
clear statement of intent to anyone who cared to interpret it, of
her determination to win the role of Queen.
    Standing
directly in front of the thrones was Archmage Maran and the
Priestess Delana, the two representatives of the highest