Legacy of the Eldric

The words caught in Kaplyn’s throat. He was about to betray a friend. The thought twisted his stomach. “Emma,” he stammered, pausing to press his fingers into his palms, searching for resolve. He glanced at the ceiling, then back at Emma, but couldn’t meet her accusing gaze.

“I’m leaving,” he blurted out, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, feeling more like a child than a grown man. “I will return,” he added, hoping to soften the blow.

“And what will happen when you return? I am a serving maid. That is all. The best I can hope for is being your mistress,” Emma snapped, flashing him an icy glare.

“You are special to me. You know that…” Kaplyn pleaded, stepping closer and placing his hands gently on her shoulders, searching her eyes for understanding. He managed a tentative smile; eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Emma’s expression softened, and beneath his hands, he felt her relax.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked quietly.

“Three weeks, perhaps four at the most,” he replied. In truth, he had no idea. His plans were half formulated. Her face fell and she looked down.

“There’s a fair at Pendrat. They’ll have archery, and maybe I can enter. I need to go, Em,” he said softly. “I can feel the walls closing in on me. Court life is tedious and I hate it. I need to get out and experience something real, not just follow the same routines every day.”

Emma looked up, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Most people can only dream of being in your position. How can you hate it so much?” she asked.

“I just do,” he replied. “I have no freedom. I can’t go to the tavern with friends, get drunk, or even wander the market alone. Bodyguards follow me everywhere. That’s not living.”

A chill draft slipped through the open window, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter from the village below, almost mocking Kaplyn’s plight.

“But you are a prince…”

“Some prince!” he interrupted. “I’m ninth in line to the throne, and some of my own brothers and sisters barely recognise me. And now Father is threatening me with marriage–to a princess from Thrace, of all places. He mentioned Gwen, but I wasn’t really listening. I don’t even know what she looks like, and I won’t until it’s too late.”

Emma snorted. “You’re twenty-one, so I suppose marriage is inevitable. Either way, I’ll lose you–to some misbegotten adventure or a rich strumpet from foreign lands.”

“I need to escape. Please,” he pleaded. “I’m not asking much. Just distract the guard so I can leave. Sanfred is on duty tonight. He’s easily led, so you should be fine.”

“Not asking much? I know Sanfred. He’ll have his hands all over me before I can say, ‘How the Kalanth are you?’”

That wasn’t quite what Kaplyn had hoped for. He just needed a distraction. To be fair, he knew Sanfred fancied Emma. In terms of being easily distracted, Sanfred was the prime choice. In Kaplyn’s mind, it was tonight or never, and to escape, sacrifices were needed.

“Look, here’s some gold,” Kaplyn said, taking out a purse with three sovereigns that clinked encouragingly.

Emma’s eyes widened as she felt the coins inside. “I would help you even without a bribe,” she said softly. “You know that.”

“Of course I do,” Kaplyn replied, drawing Emma into his arms. The warmth of her body and the scent of her hair made him hesitate, almost reconsidering the folly of leaving. But determination won out, and gently, he pushed her away.

“When are you leaving?” Emma asked, her voice trembling.

“Tonight,” he answered, his tone husky. “In fact,…now?”

Emma pulled back, searching his face as if trying to memorise every detail. “You will come back?” she whispered.

Kaplyn managed a grin. “I’ll return with tales to make my brothers green with envy.” In truth, he dreaded what his father would say upon his return, knowing punishment awaited him–but that was a problem for another day.

“In a few minutes, I’ll be heading down to the stables to fetch Star. Could you distract Sanfred soon? Make sure he’s inside the guardhouse so he won’t spot me leaving.” He watched Emma depart, a weight of guilt pressing on his chest.

Allowing her a head start to reach the guardhouse, he lingered for a few moments. Once he judged she’d had ample time, he strode across the room, retrieved his sword, and fastened it securely at his waist. Then he collected a saddlebag packed with supplies, along with four cloth sacks neatly tied with twine.

Kaplyn pulled on a grey woollen cloak–not the attire of an Allund prince, but one that might help him blend into a crowd. He glanced in the mirror, seeing a young man in his early twenties, long dark hair partly obscuring a handsome face that often won the heart of a young woman.

A scar running from brow to cheek gave him a rugged look–a mark from his brother Tomlin, four years older, after a play fight gone wrong. Tomlin had sulked for weeks after their father thrashed him.

Kaplyn had gathered clothes to blend in with the common folk. He stole a linen shirt and wool trousers from the laundry and wore a leather jerkin he had secretly purchased at the market weeks earlier. He had slipped out of the palace one afternoon, taking advantage of the heavy traffic leaving the grounds. His riding boots and sword, both expensive, were the only items that might reveal his privileged background.

Finally, and without a backward glance, he left the plush rooms of his childhood. Swiftly he strode through deserted corridors, grateful for the thick carpet that muffled his footsteps. Lanterns illuminated the brightly decorated corridors–once a playground for his childhood mischief, now a hindrance as he wished for darkness to conceal his escape.

Kaplyn’s heart hammered in his chest, yet he grinned broadly. He was truly escaping. He navigated the silent corridors and descended a tight spiral staircase, reaching the palace’s back door without encountering anyone. As the door swung open, the scent of the stables greeted him. He could hardly believe how smoothly his escape was unfolding.

Stepping into the mild spring night, Kaplyn was greeted by the scent of blossoms, promising better days ahead. He quickened his pace toward the stables, slipping into the deep shadows of the open doorway, grateful to be out of sight. Horses fidgeted, their heavy bodies thumping against wooden stalls and hooves clattering on stone. Kaplyn hurried to Star’s stall, swinging open the gate. Star dipped her head in greeting.

On a peg, he took down his bow and a full quiver. Hunting was the only time he felt alive. Stalking game in local woods was a favourite pastime. Farnham, the gamekeeper often invited him out to hunt pheasant and other game, depending on the time of year. Farnham was the closest Kaplyn had to a friend, and he was grateful for the lessons in tracking and general fieldcraft.

Next, he took the cloth sacks and tied one about each of Star’s hooves. He had no idea how effective these would be at dampening any noise Star might make, but it was worth a try. Star nickered and, knowing her as he did, he sensed that she did not understand what was happening.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered stroking her warm flank. “Just a night ride. That’s all.”

He went to fetch a saddle and a blanket and then set about preparing Star for their journey, talking to her softly all the while. Once he had completed his preparations, he took her rein and led her from the stable. This was going to be the difficult part, he realised, leading Star across the cobbled roads to the small gate through the internal wall, protecting the palace and linking it to the town. To one side of the gate was a guard house and inside Sanfred would hopefully be paying Emma his undivided attention. Kaplyn felt a pang of jealousy. He genuinely cared for Emma. Once through the gate though, he was confident he would escape.

Even with the cloth sacks, Star’s hooves sounded loud to Kaplyn’s anxious mind. He felt relief when the gate leading away from the palace came into view, glancing warily at the small guard house nearby. No lights showed, and he silently thanked Emma–there was no sign of Sanfred. Hurrying Star toward his goal, Kaplyn’s heart pounded so loudly he feared it might alert anyone nearby. Suddenly, a dog began barking behind a door to the palace gardens.

Quickening his pace, the frantic barking echoed in his ears, but soon he was beside the gate. His skin prickled with excitement and fear, expecting a shout of discovery at any moment–but nothing happened. Then, all at once, he was through. Before him stretched a narrow road, flanked by tall, rickety buildings, leading to the main city gates and freedom. The shops on either side had their shutters drawn, but even at this early hour, lights shone from within and sounds of activity drifted out.

A little farther on, Kaplyn encountered the first people–servants or staff hurrying to bakeries or other jobs to light fires. The faint aroma of baking bread drifted through the cool morning air, mingling with the sharp scent of smoke from newly lit hearths. A chill lingered, nipping at his cheeks, and the rough stone walls felt damp beneath his fingertips as he skirted the shadows.

Early risers gave Kaplyn curious glances, their faces half-lit by the flickering glow of lanterns behind shuttered windows. Kaplyn frowned and then realised that Star still wore the cloth sacks. As he stooped to remove them, the coarse fibres scratched his fingers, and the clatter of her iron-shod hooves on the cobblestones echoed harshly off the stone buildings, making him wince at the noise.

Anxious to avoid drawing attention, Kaplyn’s heart raced as he pressed himself into the shadows beside a large building, hoping no one would question his presence at this early hour. He pulled his cloak tighter against the damp chill, waiting for dawn and the opening of the city gates, every sound seeming amplified in the tense stillness.

Gradually, more people streamed past and the noise from carts added to the general din, bringing the city to life. Soon, Kaplyn could make out the faces of passers-by, and looking up, he noticed the sky was growing lighter. His moment had come. Kaplyn slipped in behind a passing horse and cart, following the flow of traffic toward the gates. The guards were just swinging them open, waving people out without stopping anyone. Blending in, Kaplyn rode through the opening as if he belonged, finally slipping out of the city unnoticed.

A short way from the city walls, Kaplyn urged Star into a trot, weaving between carts to reach the open road ahead. A smile creased his face. “Yes!” he whispered. He had escaped, but what future awaited him, he did not know. This was the greatest adventure of his life. At last, he was free.