Chapter 1: The Bloody Banner

The Adamarl Tales
Book the First: Jester’s Blush
Chapter 1: The Bloody Banner

At a time of most curious incident, the Sun rose. This morning's was a particularly sweet Sun, one who, as she pulled herself up over the horizon, bathed the earth in a sea of warmth before rising to mingle with the clouds, painting them and the surrounding sky a comforting pale red. The palace walls of radiant white stone gleamed in the dawn's early rays while the long line of crows perched atop the pearly ramparts squawked their morning greetings before taking flight, their silhouettes carving ugly black streaks across the smooth rosy sky, casting a pall over the dying night.

I stood alone in the courtyard, still sorting through the moments leading up to and surpassing last night’s tragedy. On any other autumn day as pleasant weather-wise as this one, the lawn would be bustling. The bards’ strumming and singing would entertain the crowds, their melodies complemented by the giggles of young girls blowing bubbles nearby. A sunny day usually brought a group of boys, who would make the crows victim to their childish game of stone-throwing. The aroma of roasted hog and beef pies would waft through the air, tempting everyone gathered to a second breakfast. But today was no typical autumn day.

No, this particular morning marked the end of a disastrous night, the darkest night I’ve ever groped my way through. Though the Sun tried to light up the darkness with a wave of her flaming fingers, she could do little to brighten the spirits of the palace’s inhabitants, including mine. As the haunting images of last night repeatedly raced through my mind, I noticed a sharp pain in my hands and looked down to find them clenched in tight, tormented fists, fingernails hiding within, stabbing the soft flesh of my palms. I relieved my biting, self-loathing grasp to reveal two shallow pools of crimson flowing up from the punctures left by my newly-stained, trim-needing nails. The liquid agony oozed through the web of creases, tracing the crisscrossing lines, amplifying them, before erasing them altogether under a flood of grief. I rinsed my hands at the ebony marble fountain in the center of the courtyard, watched as the scarlet ink mingled with the clear water and dispersed, the droplets snaking aimlessly downward, breaking and fading, until the redness was lost and the water ran clear again, the lingering taint now invisible.

I left the courtyard to bandage my abrasions, but just as I stepped off the lawn and into the arched entryway to the palace, Sorrow slapped me with his heavy gauntlet and sent my head spiraling again to last night…

It was midnight at the pub, and I had just downed my sixth shot of wiskee when suddenly the alarm bells tolled, summoning the soldiers to the gates, the royals to the keep, and all others to the underground bunkers. In all my life, I had heard the sound only once before, years ago, during Menlo the Spy’s attempted escape after his outing. And though I was but a boy then and can’t recall every detail of that day, I did know that this time, the bell’s clanging seemed much more feverish, more hectic, more grave.

At first, the drunken revelers and my fellow regulars didn’t notice. They continued their dancing and drinking as though the bells were just another instrument in the ensemble on stage. I knew better even in my inebriety and hopped onto my stool to urge the crowd to seek shelter. My slurred warning shouts were in vain however. The band continued to play; the audience continued to drink. It wasn’t until the front window shattered that people stopped what they were doing and took notice, not of the alarm bells though, but of the bloody and burning heap of a human body that caused the window’s smashing. Like the moment’s silence between songs in a set, the pub patrons fell quiet for a second—observing the human torch before them, feeling the heat of the flames that licked at his clothes, sniffing the scent of his roasting flesh—before finally they erupted in a cacophony of confusion, dropping their glasses and graces in a meleeic race to the exit.

Fortunately, my seat was closest to the door, and I made it out first to find the streets in turmoil: men and women scrambling toward the bunkers, tugging screaming children behind them, avoiding fiery debris falling from the blazing rooftops above. I bolted into an alley to avoid the tussling stampede on the main thoroughfare and sprinted for the keep, wondering what had befallen the castle, what enemy had breached its high, white walls. I was a few feet from turning the corner when a blur of red flew past on the street ahead. I stopped short and listened as the clatter and clanking of armor and the din of heavy footsteps on cobblestone grew louder and louder, until after a few moments, a squadron of soldiers passed by, came and went like a fleeting recollection, the sound of their pursuit quickly fading.

I took a step forward and poked my head around the corner to take heed of the chase. Was this our villain, the source of the commotion, the fires, the panic? I could see the troops that passed had now stopped not too far off, within earshot, just in front of the gate, their pikes parallel to the ground and pointed at a character in red, the blur from seconds prior, now surrounded by the king’s elite guards, each one a bar of an iron cage. No hope of escape, I remember thinking. We got him.

“Surrender, foe!” the captain ordered. “You’ve nowhere to run.”

I peered through the line of men at the entrapped figure, his cloak a deep blood-red, his hood pulled over the head to conceal his visage. Though he was unarmed and of slim build, as a child’s almost, he was poised like a rabid dog pushed with its back to the wall. The guards dared not pounce, preferring to coax their captive into submission.

“Kneel down, and put your hands up!”

The faceless figure appeared at first to obey the officer’s command, raising his arms upward in apparent acquiescence; but just as his legs began to bend, he sprang up and lowered his hands in sudden violent chops, cutting through the air like twin swords. A volcanic blast of orange and gold burst from the stranger’s sleeves, throwing the jolted soldiers to their asses. When the eruption ceased a moment later, some guards lay on the ground unconscious; others scrambled to their feet and took off in fright, leaving their spears and shields behind. Only the captain stood up and held his ground, determined to bring this enemy to justice. I could tell from my vantage point a short block away, that it took a great deal of effort for him to remain on his feet, the force of the blast and his fall having likely broken a bone or three.

“Surrender,” panted the captain, slowly, painfully raising his spear. “This is your last chance.”

The wicked one let out a frigid cackle, a horrible, foul-smelling sound that skewered my spine, poked the nape of my neck with a thousand icy needles.

“You are a fool,” a raspy, smoke-filled voice said, and with a flick of the foe’s wrist, the captain’s spear was cast aside, as if by a gust of wind, and the captain brought to his knees.

My lungs felt constricted, fighting for every breath as I watched the cloaked enemy step forward, arms raised toward the captain. I pulled myself back around the corner to hide my eyes from what happened next. My back slid down the wall, and I sat wide-eyed, staring at the wall opposite me as it lit up, reflecting the ensuing blaze, echoing the agonized, tortured shriek of the captain and the ghoulish laughter of his executioner.

The screaming soon died down, but the cackling persisted. I sat crouched in my hiding spot urging myself to run back the way I came, but, unable to find the strength to get up, I played a dead man, holding my breath and praying that the fiend wouldn’t discover me.

At last, the bellow of sick delight abruptly ceased, but the wall reflecting the fire didn’t dim until several minutes later, at which point I worked up the courage to peak around the corner once more. The hooded stranger had vanished, leaving behind a few scattered tongues of flame in the surrounding area. I found my legs and moved cautiously, stopping every few steps to check my left, my right, behind me, before proceeding forward toward the gate. There I found several soldiers’ bodies strewn about, some breathing, some not. My heart stopped when, in the center of it all, I saw the smoldering remains of the captain—melted metal atop a pile of black ash. I gagged as I wondered what it must be like to feel one’s own innards being cooked in a stove of armor. I recalled hearing once that those who are burned alive experience, at their final moment, a fit of total ecstasy. Then the captain’s final shrieks drifted back into my mind, and I decided that whoever told me that bit of knowledge must be full of shit.

The smell of smoke and blood dizzied my aching head, so I stumbled over to a dimly lit, arched passageway to breathe in some slightly fresher air and avoid passing out. The tunnel overlooked the courtyard, an area the invader had left untouched. How gracious of him, I scoffed. Drops of perspiration wet my forehead, conjuring up hints of the wiskee I had downed… How long ago was that? Minutes? It felt like hours. Already I was at the onset of a hangover. My ears rang. Or was that the alarms bells? I couldn’t tell.

My mind raced from confusion to grief, grief to anger, anger to paranoia. Is the enemy still out there? Is there more than one of them? The slightest sound from the nearby foliage drove me into a more maddening panic. The crickets' chirps flew through the shadows like arrows. Am I hit? The thud of a chestnut falling from the branch of a nearby beech exploded like a powder keg. Take cover! An owl's hoot rang like the trumpet blast of an invading army. I’m going to die! A faraway streak of lightning momentarily lit the void and revealed a rat scurrying along the wall opposite me. He halted at the end of the passage and peered around the corner into the courtyard, as though expecting a trap, clearly frightened and frenzied by the night's unfolding. I stood silent and hidden in the shadows, my back against the cold bricks of the tunnel. Perhaps this rat has heard something, I thought, so I whispered to it softly, so as not to startle him more in his already anxious state.

“Sir Rat.”

The creature jumped at the sound of my voice and, without a glance back at me, disappeared around the corner.

“Sir Rat, I mean you no harm. I only want to know if you know anything.”

It was a few moments before the rat returned and warily poked his triangular face back into the passageway. “Ooizzit?” he sneered, his voice frantic but hushed.

“I, the Jester.”

“The Jesta? And what brings the Jesta out into the courtyard this late at night while the alarm bells toll and buildin’s burn around ya?”

“I got pinned down.”

“Pinned down? Drunk’s more like it. You reek o’the splash, friend. You ought to get to the keep and not keep me here babblin’. Can’t you see the carnage? The whole castle’s blown asunder, all thanks to that demon in red.”

“You saw him too. So there’s only one then? Has he escaped?”

“Could be one, could be a hundred. And ‘ell if I know he’s escaped. I caught one glimpse of ‘im and took off. On my way back to the nest right now. Don’t want the wifey and kids worryin’, so I best be off. Right.”

“Have you no other information? No news of what started it all?”

“What, besides the king dyin’? Nope, no news. Get to the keep. I’m leavin’.”

The rat scampered off, leaving me alone to contemplate his departing words, mentioned in such a trivial manner, as if the whole world knew. The king. Dead? Tears welled up inside me and came gushing out, blinding me…

I found myself again at the present moment, the Sun’s rays drying my tears as they hit the stone floor below me. I checked my stinging palms. The mistakenly self-inflicted punctures seemed to have already begun to clot, new wounds healing fast. I’ll be alright, I thought, and so will the Kingdom. I gazed up at the keep off in the distance, the banner atop signifying the day of mourning that lay ahead, a king’s farewell kiss planted on the forehead of his palace.

I gathered myself and left the courtyard, trying hard to focus on the task at hand as I made my way back inside to prepare for tonight’s party.