The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

A Message Spelling Disaster

The messenger nodded, wide-eyed. "I don't like those jackals. Not one bit."

"Me neither." But then, Darrion didn't like any of the five families. He had five friends in all of Nordaine: Gawain, Kaela, Gawain's mother Miria, Lorcan Blaecoine, and King Conal. Lorcan was the closest thing Darrion and Gawain had to a father, which made the King their almost grandfather.

That's what had the Westenmeres so worried. One of Lorcan's surrogate sons was more likely to be appointed his heir. If they ever succeeded in getting rid of Darrion, Gawain would be targeted next.

Darrion regarded the messenger while unfolding the letter. The man looked honest enough. "Have some wine to warm yourself."

"Thank you kindly," the messenger said, sounding surprised.

Hardly anyone expected kindness from Darrion dir Murion. "Go on."

Darrion waited until the messenger was at the drinks table on the opposite side of the tent, then lowered his eyes to read the message.

Darrion,

Bring the King home immediately. The Knight has left Sylmion.

V.V.J.

Miria.

His blood went cold. The messenger was right. This was big trouble. Lorcan would never leave Nordaine's capital while his father was away. That was the least of their concern. "V.V.J." was the most worrying part of the note.

Without the periods, the letters stood for 'vaena vero julaine.' I love you. With them, coming from Miria, it meant something sinister. 'Vaena vequir jerisse.' I lost contact. The Knight was a gifted telepath. He could keep contact with at least one mind, even hundreds of miles away. And he always—always—kept contact with Miria in the King's absence. She basically served as his right hand at the castle. Not even the heads of Nordaine's five great houses had the same influence she did. For her to lose contact with the Knight... It simply wasn't right. Still, the message contained precious little information. When had the Knight left? When had the contact been lost?

Miria had probably kept the message sparse on purpose in case of an interception. She wouldn't want to tip off and panic the five lords. But—Darrion glanced toward the sack by the entrance—the Waernich had to have known something. Waernich was the house of guardians. They supplied almost all of the King's and the Knight's guards. So if the Knight had left, his guards would have gone with him. Which meant the Waernich would know of it.

And he'd sent some of his own personal family to come kill Darrion.

This had to mean the Waernich assumed the Knight wouldn't return.

Darrion cursed under his breath and hurried to his desk. He scribbled four notes. One for King Conal, one for Gawain, one for Darrion's general in Lyrion, and one for Kaela. Then he summoned the messenger.

"Bad news, sir?"

Darrion fought to keep his expression under control. "Nothing worth worrying about just yet. Take these"—he gave the messenger the notes for the general and Kaela—"to my general and my second in command. First, the general. Once he gives the affirmative, you go to Kaela Westenmere. After that, come back."

The messenger nodded and left to do his bidding. Darrion sat down and closed his eyes, thinking.

After a time, a horn blast sounded into the night, summoning Darrion's elite company. The messenger arrived before the sound faded away.

"All is arranged, sir."

Darrion nodded and scribbled the final note. He addressed it to the Waernich. "First take these two messages to the King and the young lord Gawain. And then this," he said, folding the final message, "to Ulric Westenmere along with that." He tilted his head toward the sack by the entrance.

"What is in it?" the messenger asked.

"Heads."

The messenger gaped at him. "And you want me to give them to the Waernich?"

"I do. Don't worry. He'll know they're from me."

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking. What's written in the note?"

"That I'll start sending him more Westenmere heads if he crosses me again."

The messenger's face lit up with glee. "I can't begin to understand why the Murion hates you."

Darrion shrugged. "Sometimes, personalities just aren't compatible. Out you go. Take my rations for your trip."

"Thank you!" The messenger grabbed whatever food he could carry in his rations pack, then picked up the sack and heads. "I can't wait to see his face!"

Darrion smiled, even though he didn't feel like it. If the Knight was gone under questionable circumstances, Nordaine would enter a dark chapter in its history. Especially if they had to root out an entire house because of it.

Looks like things have taken a turn for the worse in the Nordian camp.

But tell me tell me! What do you think of Darrion?