The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4) (3 page)

"In such an instance as this, this most grievous event, the Rules are clear. Until such time as the Moot can agree unanimously upon a suitable candidate, the Crown goes to the blood of Herman Rene du'Varl."

Gladius had one play in his cards. It might work, it might fail or it might plunge the Crown into the bloody civil conflict the Precedence existed to prevent. Only one fact forced Gladius to consider it now. He knew unanimous acclaim among the Houses would never be reached as long as du'Varl sat as King. Several of the Great Houses and numerous of the Lesser allied themselves with Varl; they would speak 'nay' to any candidate lacking du'Varl's approval. Similarly, Brightcrown and no small few of the Greater and Lesser houses would stand in opposition of any candidate du'Varl or one of his minions suggested.

Gladius steeled himself. An under-the-cloak message to the Elder Guards' commander and the man doubled his contingent here, subtly, without question.

"Edgar Robert Christopher Fyrelm Laird Brightcrown. The Hausmoot of the Great and Noble Houses of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars now calls you to serve as our Great Laird and King. By the Great Oaths you have spoken for your House and for yourself, now stand and serve."

There! He spoke the critical words without incident.

"What?!" Fyrelm looked at Gladius as though hit with a brick.

"What?!" du'Varl's expression turned livid with fury. "I am eldest, Lucius! My blood is..."

Sudden scandalized whispers erupted across the Moot.

"Irrelevant," interrupted Gladius, loud enough to quiet the others. The next words were critical! "Both I and Laird Lore have checked the Rules of Precedence thoroughly, Josef, and they are clear. They say only '... the blood of Herman Rene du'Varl shall ascend to the throne.' They are not further qualified nor are they excepted for the existence of more than one Great or Noble house of his blood. They specifically do not mention the age of that blood or its strength."

After a pair of quick, angry breaths du'Varl's expression turned sly.

"Very well, Lucius. You may play your games. I congratulate you on finding a way to deny me my due, but no matter." He turned to face Fyrelm. "Cousin Edgar, it appears you are to be our new King. Huzzah and the Great and Noble House of Varl speaks 'aye!' Perhaps the Crown of Stars will seal the schism between our Houses, yes?"

"Perhaps."

As Edgar Robert approached, Gladius felt an icicle through his heart. Something hid behind the lad's eyes. Something knowing. Something Gladius now feared to see. Fyrelm glanced at du'Varl and took a knee before Gladius. The Moot chattered with quiet gladness now, they'd not seen the awful thing in Fyrelm's eyes.

Could the lad have been a willing partner in du'Varl's plan? Before yesterday Gladius would have dismissed that thought out of hand but now it gnawed at him. Fyrelm's strange behavior at King Elias' funeral, his inaccessibility and now his expression... He took the sword and accepted Gladius' homage and that of du'Varl as well.

Gladius knew he wasn't as young as he once was but surely age had not blinded him this much!

"Thank you, my Laird Gladius."

The intrigue in and behind the boy's words froze Gladius' soul. du'Varl's smile all but confirmed it! Had they concocted this mad plan between them? Could even young Fyrelm read his old mentor and friend so easily? Had even the Tragic Schism that split House Brightcrown away from House Varl been nothing more than a sham?

"My Lairds and Ladies," said Fyrelm to the Moot, "Do you accept me one and all?"

The Moot voiced a mostly-unanimous 'Aye.'

"I'm sorry, Uncle Marius," said Fyrelm, now in a voice only the other two could hear, "He is my family. I cannot betray my family, my very blood."

du'Varl's smile broke Gladius' spirit into shards.

"My Lairds and Ladies," said the stranger Gladius once thought he knew, "I swore the Crown's Oath when I took the name of Brightcrown. Before that, I swore Halm's Oath to my House, to its people and to all the people of the Crown Worlds. We of House Brightcrown, with the blood of Rene du'Varl strong among us and with the honor of Fuer Halm, the Helm of Fire upon us, live that Oath every second of every moment of every day of our lives."

Hot tears formed in Gladius' eyes. Of all the Great Houses only Brightcrown and Gladius routinely swore both Oaths. It pained Gladius to hear Fyrelm profane it so.

"My Lairds and Ladies, I cannot betray my blood. I cannot betray my very family. For that reason, and given the egregious and tragic circumstances that put me here, I cannot serve the Crown as you have called me to do.

"Lairds and Ladies of the Hausmoot of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars," said Fyrelm quickly, before du'Varl could find his voice, "In the name of Halm's Oath and by the blood and upon the blood of Hermann Rene du'Varl I do hereby renounce and abdicate my right and the right of the blood of du'Varl to bear his sword or to wear his Crown!"

The Moot gasped as one! du'Varl first paled, then flushed red with anger. He made some low, inarticulate growl, deep in his chest, as he reached for his blade.

Faster than Gladius could see, Fyrelm had the Crown's Blade bared and ready to strike.

"I truly cannot betray you, cousin," said Fyrelm, "So I cannot strip you of your name or your House of its standing. But I will not betray my father's blood nor that of my ancestors by allowing your atrocity to go unpunished!" A pair of tears slid down Fyrelm's face but he held his blade firm and steady. "Draw your steel if you wish, du'Varl, but by Fuer Halm and by the Crown and by the blood we both yet share I shall strike you dead where you stand!"

Time and silence both stretched as the two men stood staring at each other. Gladius saw the calculations crossing du'Varl's face. While he had age and experience, Fyrelm had youth, passion and a total disregard for the consequence of his act.

du'Varl lowered and sheathed his blade and backed away. When Fyrelm felt safe he sheathed the Crown's blade.

"I spoke truly, Uncle Marius." Fyrelm sounded apologetic. "I really couldn't betray him. I also studied my Precedence. There are a few conditions under which... exceptions can be made. This is one of them. By right and by Rule the Crown now passes to the Great and Noble House of Gladius."

Now Fyrelm smiled.

"Take a knee, my Laird."

Chapter 1. Battle Stations!

Commander Oscar Templeton, captain of the LNCN-22104
Jackson Lee
, looked hard at the readouts around the bridge. The LR scan showed a lot of clutter, which meant a lot of places for... things... to hide. They had some possible pings that might be odd bits of space junk or they might be something else.

"Scan. Go over the last five minutes again. High-speed, high-res. See if you can spot me a pattern."

"Aye, sir." Hedric 'Hed' Jones rushed to comply.

"Helm, vector center low. Bring us toward the stat center but not too steep. Make your angle four degrees."

"Aye sir."

"Comm, contact the
Fischer
and the
Sultan
. Rear flank but hold distance and take our heading."

"Aye sir."

Even with stochastic enhancement the scan showed nothing. Still, the latest SecCom reports had activity in this area and Templeton felt something out there.

"
Fischer
and
Sultan
acknowledge, skipper." Anna Belaada, the chief communications officer, spoke those words in the same even tone she used for everything.

"Viv. Assessment."

Vivian LaRue, Templeton's executive officer, collected her thoughts before speaking. As always.

"I've got squelch, skipper, but this is the most likely place for bandits to hide. It's close enough to the routes they hit and there's plenty of clutter there to hide behind."

"I concur. Time to raise the ante. Helm, plot a microjump fifty-close to the stat center. Comm, notify
Fischer
and
Sultan
and have them close-echo our jump."

"Aye, sir." "Aye, sir."

Sector Command reported incursions and local ComCen dispatched ships. In this case the force commander dispatched the
Jackson Lee
, a heavy destroyer, and a pair of long-range frigates to investigate.

"Jump plotted, sir."

"Thank you, Mister Sylov. Make our jump in thirty seconds."

Templeton sat down and strapped in. Around him the bridge crew hustled in organized chaos as they executed the microjump protocol. It pleased Templeton that he didn't have to micro-manage his crew. He knew them and they him. Other captains either enjoyed or felt compelled to go through every step of every protocol but Templeton credited his crew with both smart and sensible, and so far they'd not let him down!

The
Jackson Lee
jumped, followed less than ten seconds later by the
Fischer
and the
Sultan
after another seven.

"I got signal! Definite contact, skipper!"

"Phase down, Hed," said Templeton, "Initiate hostile contact protocol."

"Escort contact established," reported Belaada.

"Hostile is vectoring toward us," said Jones, "Uncertain on number or composition. If there's more than one they're mighty tight in."

"Scan 'em hard, Hed. We need to know!"

"Aye, skipper. Initial read is a single hostile... Wait. Launch detected! Launch detected! Missile swarm, sir. Looks like fifty nails, sir. Unknown payload."

"That doesn't make sense," said LaRue, "They're... at least five minutes from impact. That's forever long enough to spike missy."

"Position on escorts."

"
Fischer
is tight, sir.
Sultan
is plus-jitter."

"Open a secure channel to
Sultan
," barked Templeton. Then, "Doug, are you scanning missy."

"Sure am, Ozz. Itchy trigger fingers?"

"Low sigma on that. Prepare a high micro. Ten light seconds absolute, positive jitter."

"Aye, sir. Contact?"

"Negative. Let me know when you have the jump plotted but do not execute." Templeton turned to his weapons officers. "Guns. I want a swarm of fifty nail-tens ready to launch."

LaRue looked at him. "Sir?"

Templeton smiled. "I have an idea, Viv. This stape is plenty awake and not wearing a stupid hat. Let's call his bluff!"

"Missile swarm minus four minutes," reported Jones.

"Polar. Comm, notify Sultan to execute jump."

"Aye, sir."

Several scanners flashed and complained when the
Sultan
executed her microjump. Almost immediately afterward even more scanners hashed up.

"Interference, sir," reported one of Jones' junior officers, "Gravitic inter..."

"They're grinding us!" Jones sounded offended at that fact. "They're grinding us, skipper! That's a hades of a powerful rig to get that much hash this far."

"Just within missile lock, Hed. SOP says scatter the escorts then close and hose. They think we just sent all our escorts away."

"Missile swarm minus three minutes."

"Guns," said Templeton, "Set the swarm for moderate cloud dispersion. Set your triggers for gravitic detection and make the safety distance one minute."

The junior missile officer looked at Templeton but acted quickly.

"Skipper," said LaRue, "did you say gravitic trigger?"

"Indeed I did, Viv, with a one-minute delay."

"But..."

Templeton held up his hand. "Start jamming, Hed. Let's raise the stakes."

"Aye, sir. Bothlow, you heard the skipper!"

Several readouts and repeaters changed when the jamming started. The image of the hostile ship fuzzed and flickered.

"Scan, give me cones based on last positions."

The main readout lit up with projections of all the ships' courses and possible vectors given rational acceleration. The
Jackson Lee's
cone intersected the hostile's at just over six minutes.

"Launch missile swarm! Guns, get me some big missy online. Helm! Vector hard back and starboard. Comm, inform
Fischer
to vector-evade."

Templeton watched as his missile swarm approached the one fired against them.

"Missile-active minus ten," he said, "Hed, close our eyes before those nails arm!"

Jones powered down the scanners and deployed their armor shells. After a tense minute and a half several readouts beeped.

"Missile swarm detonated, sir," reported Jones, "No misfires."

"Activate scanners. Guns, point-defense is weapons-free. Make sure none of their missy kisses us!"

"Aye, sir." Rick Richards, the senior gunner, dispatched the order with a feral grin.

"Clever," said LaRue, "You knew those missiles would blow as soon as they armed!"

"Six-sigma," grinned Templeton, "Bet me ten our gunners don't have any targets."

"Do you think we blinded the hostile," she asked.

"I'd love it but I doubt it. Scan. Report."

"Contact reestablished, sir. Launch detected from hostile. Big swarm, sir!"

"Deploy interceptors. Guns, give me two swarms of nail-fifties. First swarm set to proximity trigger and standard scatter. Second swarm set to track and crack. Light her up and shut her down. One minute delay between launches."

"Aye, sir!"

"Comm. Command to
Fischer
. Two swarms, same parameters."

"Aye, sir."

"Point defense active," said Richards, "You lost your bet times two, sir."

"Pity, that," said Templeton, "Launch first swarm."

"Aye, sir! Three minutes to impact."

Templeton sat back and waited. Their interceptors took out most of the second swarm but they had a good track on the rest. Richards launched the second swarm and the hostile began firing point-defense.

"He's down or he's shamming," said LaRue, "Missiles?"

"Negative," said Templeton, "Power up Big Boy. Let's see if we can take some prisoners."

"Aye, sir," said Richards, "Initiating spinal cannon charge."

The readouts dimmed as Richards began feeding power to the massive particle cannon built into the
Jackson Lee's
hull.