The iron-gridded portcullis barred Kyen’s way into Castle Veleda. Two guards stood at attention inside the gate tunnel. 

“Kyen of Avanna here to see the king,” Kyen told them.

One guard motioned to the other. The gate clanked and began to ascend; its iron bars rose up past his grave face.

“So glad you’ve come, sir,” said the guard. “I’m supposing you’ve heard?”

“Heard what?” asked Kyen.

“An assassination attempt has been made on the king,” said the guard.

“What? How?” Kyen ducked under the still-rising portcullis.

At a wave from the guard, the iron gate began to lower again.

“Finn, sir,” said the guard. “He attempted to murder the king. There’s a great tumult in the castle about it. Finn’s been—”

Kyen left before the guard finished his sentence. He strode quickly across the bailey and pushed open one of the double doors into the castle keep. Without waiting for a footman, Kyen mounted the nearest staircases. He bound up two flights, taking the steps three at a time and drawing stares from a couple maidservants as he passed. 

Kyen exited onto the third floor, the solar, the royal family’s private sitting room where doors to their bedchambers lined the walls. Finn’s younger sisters sat in high-backed chairs, gazed idly out the windows or wept together in the corner.

At the sound of Kyen’s footsteps, all the redheads turned to him. They stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Kyen?”

“It’s Kyen!”

Tears glimmered in Clarissa’s eyes as she rose from her chair.

“Oh, it’s terrible!” The girl threw herself on Kyen and sobbed into his tunic. One after another, the other sisters gathered around him. A chorus of sobbing and wailing echoed around the solar.

Kyen, looking grieved, patted at the various heights of heads and shoulders. Only Adelaide, the littlest sister, stood at a distance gazing forlornly at the group. Once the chorus of grief spent itself out, Kyen gently pushed them away and looked into their tear-stained, puffy-eyed faces.

“What’s happened?”

“Oh, it’s terrible!” Clarissa said again. “Daddy and Finn got into an argument. Finn—Finn—” She burst out in a fresh wave of sobs.

Taking her by the hand, Kyen helped Clarissa back to her seat.

She took out a handkerchief and buried her face in it.

Elenora and Lionora, the eldest set of twins, looked up at Kyen with identical, red-eyed expressions. The group of sniffling girls clung to one another behind them. 

“How is King Veleda?” Kyen asked.

“Come and see.” Elenora and Lionora led him to one of the side doors and knocked. The castle apothecary admitted them into the bed chamber beyond. He returned to his station at the bedside as Kyen and the girls gathered into the room.

In his bed, King Veleda groaned and shifted with fever. His face looked pale beneath his wiry, red beard. Broad bandages swathed his chest. The apothecary dabbed at his brow with a damp cloth. 

“How bad?” asked Kyen.

“He’s still in danger until the fever breaks,” said the apothecary.

Fresh tears rose to Elenora and Lionora’s eyes. 

Lionora sniffed.

Kyen shook his head, gazing on the wounded king.

“What happened?” said Kyen. “I can’t imagine Finn ever arguing with his father, much less acting out of violence. What happened?” He looked to the twins.

They both shook their heads, too.

“Finn seemed sad when he returned,” said Lionora.

“And moody.”

“But he’s always had his moods.”

Kyen watched King Veleda muttered incoherently under his breath. 

The apothecary laid the cloth over the king’s brow.

“Where is Finn?” Kyen looked to the twins.

“He’s—” Eleanor swallowed hard, tears threatening.

“He’s being held in one of the storerooms.” Lionora finished for her.

“May I see him?”

They both nodded.

* * *

In the basement of the keep, a guard stood posted before a solid oak door. He came to attention as Clarissa, Elenora, and Lionora brought Kyen to him. At a word from Clarissa, the guard unlocked the door.

Kyen stepped inside. The door shut and locked behind him.

A lantern hung from the ceiling and lit the crates and boxes pushed to the back of the room. Under the dim light, Finn paced. He strode to one wall, turned, strode to the other, turned. Fury clouded his features. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. A black welt stood out on his forearm. He lifted his head when Kyen entered, cast him a single dark glance, and looked away

“Finn?” Kyen took a cautious step forward.

Finn paced past him.

“What happened Finn?”

Finn strode up to the wall, turned.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Kyen.

“Nothing.” Finn crossed the room.

“I don’t believe that.”

Finn reached the opposite wall, turned.

“Finn?”

“Go away.”

“Not until we talk,” said Kyen.

Finn kept pacing. His fists clenched tight.

“Finn.”

 With a yell of rage, Finn lunged at Kyen. He swung out a fist at Kyen’s head.

Kyen sidestepped.

Finn collided with the door.

The slithering zing of metal sounded as Kyen drew his sword.

“Don’t fight me,” said Kyen.

Finn spat on the ground.

Kyen’s frown deepened.

The lock rattled, and the guard put his head inside

“Everything alright?” He eyed Kyen’s drawn blade.

Finn returned to pacing.

“I’m finished.” Kyen sheathed his sword. He stepped out around the guard. 

Clarissa, Elenora and Lionora looked up as Kyen joined them. Clarissa was biting her lip. Elenora and Lionora clutched each other’s arms for support. Behind him, the guard re-locked the door.

“See?” said Elenora.

“He won’t speak to anyone,” said Lionora.

“What do we do?” Clarissa’s voice broke over the question.

Kyen stood for a long time gazing at the door. 

The three young princesses watched him.

“I need to speak with Adelaide,” said Kyen.

Eyebrows rose.

“Adelaide?”

“Yes.” Kyen walked past them and mounted the steps back to the solar.

* * *

Adelaide sat at the bay window apart from the rest of her sisters. When Kyen approached, Clarissa, Elenora, and Lionora crowded behind him. He waved them away. The twins exchanged perplexed looks, but Clarissa walked to the table and took up her sewing. The twins followed, and the three sat together, stealing glances at Kyen over their embroidery.

Kyen seated himself next to Adelaide.

The girl clutched her doll and gazed up with doleful eyes.

“I received your message, Princess Adelaide,” said Kyen.

Adelaide nodded.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Something’s wrong with big brother.” Adelaide lowered her eyes. “He won’t play with me anymore. He hurt daddy.”

“When did he stop playing with you?” asked Kyen.

“He promised he’d play dress up with me and my dollies, but he just says go away.” Tears bubbled up in the girl’s eyes. She gave a great big sniff. “I think big brother got stung.”

“Stung?”

“He’s got a big, black sting.” Adelaide pushed up her sleeve and rubbed her arm. “Right here.”

“Adelaide, which one is Finn’s room? Can I see it?”

Adelaide nodded. She hopped off the cushions. Taking two of Kyen’s fingers in her whole hand, she pulled him forward. Kyen stooped as he crossed the solar with her. Clarissa, Elenora, and Lionora stared, needles forgotten. 

Adelaide opened the door next to the king’s room. She pulled Kyen inside.

The bed, the desk, the longsword mounted on the wall, the cloak on the door peg: everything stood in high order. Kyen’s gaze swept the bedroom.

“Let me look around.” Kyen slipped his hand free. He checked out the window and surveyed the view of the grounds. He opened the desk drawer—a neat stack of parchment, an ink bottle, quills—and he closed it again. 

Kyen turned to leave but paused. 

A bedside table supported a candleholder. Beside it lay a dart of dark metal.

Kyen picked the dart up. Taking the cloth bundle from his pocket, he unwrapped in. In its folds lay the other dart—the dart from the griffin—a twin of the one from Finn’s bedside table. 

 

Kyen lay unconscious on Ewin’s cot. The workbench stood back in place, and Ewin crawled about on his knees, collecting fallen ore and throwing them into a bucket. Each ore hit the bottom with a tinny clank. 

Kyen groaned and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but putting a hand to his head, laid back on the pillow with a grimace.

“Ow… What happened?”

“You’re an obtuse blockhead, Kyen of Avanna. That’s what happened,” said Ewin. “By the Arc heights, I don’t know why I didn’t just leave you on that deck.” Ewin threw the last ore into the bucket with a clank that made Kyen wince.

“I’m sorry,” said Kyen.

“Keep your apologies. I’ve smelting to finish, and I’m not sharing my cot tonight. Clear out before you bring down more trouble.”

Kyen began to sit up again. He swung his feet over the bed where his boots waited below him. He pulled them on with sluggish hands. Once booted, Kyen stared at the far wall with a faraway look in his eyes.

Ewin stood, bucket in hand, and glared at Kyen. He slammed his bucket on the table, marched over, and slapped Kyen upside the head.

“I told you to leave!”

Kyen gripped his head in his hands and whimpered. “Ow…”

Ewin’s expression softened. He turned away to his work table. “You said you needed me to look at something? If it’s a fuzzy animal or another cheap trinket, I’m going to finish bashing your head in.”

Kyen, blinking back tears of pain, lifted his face. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cloth, and unwrapped it.

“Is this what I think it is?” Kyen held up the black dart.

Ewin shot the dart a brief glance only to give it a double take. He pushed aside his bucket to come frown into Kyen’s hand. 

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s a black weapon, isn’t it,” said Kyen.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Ewin snatched up the dart and eyed it. He wandered to his work table, pushed his cap out of his eyes, and took out a large magnifying glass on a stand. Ewin examined the dart under the lens. 

“This isn’t from the vaults,” he said under his breath as he tweaked the knobs of the glass.

“Really? But—”

“I inventoried the Vaults of Varkest, Kyen. I know every black weapon locked away there,” said Ewin. “This is not one of them.”

“Then someone in Ellunon is making black weapons again,” said Kyen.

Ewin’s face fell grim. Shaking his head, he leaned against the table, propping himself up on his good arm.

“We swore the strictest oaths,” Ewin said to the tabletop. “After the Black War, all the Guilds of Denmont swore it! We burned our books. We dismissed our apprentices. We took what we could not forget to die in exile with us.” Ewin looked over to meet Kyen’s eyes. “You fought in the Black War. You remember, don’t you?”

Kyen held Ewin’s gaze.

“Whoever is making them, stop them,” said Ewin. “What you saw in the Black War, what these weapons can do to their victims, that’s the least of your troubles.” He touched his arm, bandaged uselessly to his side.

“What do you mean?” said Kyen.

“Every black weapon has its own mind, Kyen.” Ewin shook his head again. “A type of sentience. Faint. Unnoticeable. But it seeks entrance and influence over its wielder constantly. It can turn the flow of their thoughts, cultivating, suppressing, until the wielder becomes the wielded. Left under the influence of a black weapon long enough, and a man will become consumed.” Ewin held Kyen’s gaze steadily. “Whether it’s a child toying around or a remnant of Varkest still plotting. Stop them. Stop them before they fall in the black weapon’s grip. Because whoever is wielding it will not be his own master for long.”

Ewin held the black dart out to Kyen, but Kyen hesitated to take it back.

“You can hold onto this,” said Ewin. “But don’t let anyone else touch it much.”

Kyen took the dart, re-wrapped it, and put it back into his pocket. When he looked up, he smiled. “Thank you for your help, Ewin. You are a good friend.”

“And you, a wretched one,” Ewin glowered at him. “Be a good friend and leave before your problems swoop down on us both. I have to move again because of you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kyen, ruefully. “I’ll go now.” Getting to his feet, Kyen made his way to the door while using a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“Kyen.”

Ewin’s voice stopped him on the threshold. 

Kyen looked back.

“If anyone is struck by that black dart, whatever effect it may have, it will be irreversible,” said Ewin. “Have a care with it.”

“I will,” said Kyen. “It’s probably a child playing around without realizing it.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Goodbye, Ewin.”  

“Good riddance.” A look of concern rose on Ewin’s face as he watched Kyen tread out the open door and down the footpath. As the prairie grasses began to swallow the swordsman up, Ewin turned away, muttering under his breath: “Arc’s mercy on us. All of us.”

* * *

 The Arc blazed down from high noon as Kyen stepped out from footpath and onto the highway. He started down it, paying no heed to the horseman galloping up, until he reined to a hard stop next to him.

“Kyen of Avanna?” asked the horseman, breathless. He bore the Veleda coat of arms on his surcoat.

“Yes?”

“A message for you, sir.” The horseman handed Kyen a folded paper sealed with wax. The stamped insignia bore a rearing griffin.

Popping off the seal, Kyen unfolded the letter. He smiled. The unwieldy scrawl of a child filled the page. Kyen skipped to the bottom of the sheet where the letter had been signed: Prinsezz Adelaide of Veleda

He chuckled to himself and narrowed in on the rest of the letter. His smile faded as he read.

Deer Sir Kyen of Avanna,

Plees cum back to Veleda Castle. Sumthing iz wrong with Finn. He iz grumpee all the tiem. Finn and daddy fiet all the tiem. Finn duzzant talk too me. He duzzant play with me aneemor. I’m afrayd. Pleese cum back and help uz.

Thank u. 

Prinsezz Adelaide of Veleda.

(Continue to Chapter 5 here!)