A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  “I’m sorry, I don’t,” Alanya said, then waited for Elsia to turn around.

  Elsia mouthed something to Iltar, which looked like, “Come over here.” After a moment Iltar decided to act upon that instruction and came to stand behind Elsia. He might as well act like a bodyguard.

  Once Iltar joined her, Elsia turned back to the high duchess. “As I was saying, we’re splitting up. My husband is in hiding. We thought it best if I come here.” She paused, sucking in her breath. “We’re using research into some ancient texts as a cover for my stay here.” Elsia gestured to Iltar, touching his arm. “It’s a legitimate reason, as Master Iltar here is a well-versed scholar and explorer.”

  “Oh,” Alanya nodded, pursing her lips. “A good choice for a bodyguard. But will he be enough to fend off your would-be assassin?”

  “Of course,” Elsia said reassuringly. “Master Iltar is accomplished. He has survived far more dangerous things than assassins.”

  Pagus must have been telling stories, Iltar mused.

  Elsia boasted about Iltar’s abilities, though she had never seen him in action. It sounded as if she were describing a magnificent hero that could face an army. He had faced a sizeable force once… it hadn’t turned out well for him and Cornar.

  “As I mentioned in my message, we have my nephew and some of his peers—all of whom are studying under Master Iltar. They’ll be helping with gathering information for the research while Master Iltar stays close to me.”

  The high duchess started, her eyes widening in surprise. “You brought boys along?” Alanya studied Iltar condescendingly. “Amid the dangers of assassination?”

  Elsia sat back and grinned. “They too are very capable,” she said. “Iltar is a grueling teacher. Any one of his acolytes could subdue any one of your guards. Their youth adds another layer of protection to me. Like you, many people wouldn’t think a teenage boy would pose a threat. An assassin would let his guard down around them, thus giving them an advantage that grown men wouldn’t have.”

  What a sly one Elsia was…

  Alanya squinted thoughtfully, pondering Elsia’s words.

  “I suppose that makes sense,” the high duchess said. “But I still think it foolish.”

  The women continued talking, and Iltar didn’t pay too much attention until Elsia asked about the high duke, Scovis Tasivir.

  That question shook Alanya. Her poised demeanor faded, and tears welled in her eyes. Her face contorted in pain and sorrow. “He…” she choked out, biting her lower lip. “He’s dead.”

  “Alanya!” Elsia exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth. “How?”

  “Eight months ago,” Alanya said, “during that attack on the palace when the emperor was assassinated.” Her voice trembled. “He was trying to protect the Partakers of the Feast. He… he sacrificed himself. Damned Losians!” Alanya wept, burying her face in her hands.

  Elsia rose from her seat and sat beside the mourning high duchess, wrapping her arm around Alanya and looking at Iltar as if asking him to say or do something. When he didn’t react, the countess glared at him.

  What was he supposed to do? Women…

  Once the high duchess calmed herself, she wiped away her tears. The makeup around her eyes had smeared across her cheeks. Even so, Alanya was alluring.

  “Thank you for letting us stay,” Elsia said, gently rubbing the high duchess’s back.

  “You’re welcome,” Alanya sniffled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for bed.” The high duchess turned to Iltar and curtsied. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Iltar.” Iltar lowered his head in acknowledgment.

  Elsia hugged the woman tightly. Alanya returned the gesture and left the parlor.

  Elsia sprang up from the couch, her face furious. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “What would I say?” Iltar asked, folding his arms and assuming a distant posture. He was going to get scolded, he just knew it.

  “Anything to console her!” Elsia said through clenched teeth. “You couldn’t think of one polite thing to say?”

  Iltar shrugged. What would he say to a grieving widow? I’m sorry your husband is dead? What good would that do? Nothing he could say would make a difference. The man was gone.

  “I can’t believe your audacity…” Elsia sighed. “So you can gawk at her, but you can’t say anything.”

  “I wasn’t gawking,” Iltar retorted.

  “Oh, you were gawking.” Elsia waggled her finger and stalked to the foyer.

  “No, I wasn’t…” Iltar grumbled, following after her.

  “Stop trying to deny it—and make my trunk levitate. I don’t want to carry it.”

  Who did she think he was? Some errand boy?

  “Well?” Elsia put her hands to her hips.

  Damned Sarn Royals… Elsia was just as bad as Pagus.

  “You can be so demanding,” Iltar said with a sigh and uttered the incantation to lift the trunks. It was a form of telekinetic magic, just one of the many spells in Iltar’s repository of incantations.

  “Oh,” Elsia said with a chuckle, “you haven’t seen demanding.” She grabbed the trunk’s handle and dragged it to the door. “Come on, we’re in the guesthouse.”

  “A rogue monarch will steal the power of the ancients. His actions will cost the lives of many and he will thwart the Harbinger’s plans for a time.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  Cornar was dreaming again. He stood on a manicured lawn, gazing up at that strange sky… Unlike the other dreams, Cornar could clearly see those blood-red clouds. They stood out against the backdrop of the bright yellow sky. What was this place? Was it even a place at all? This was all in his mind, wasn’t it? But it felt so real. Every sensation was so vivid. Cornar felt in control of himself, unlike in normal dreams. He was lucid, in a way.

  A horse’s whinny carried through the air to Cornar’s right, accompanied by trotting footsteps on a cobblestone path. “I know this place…” Cornar whispered, turning about. There was a large building behind him, made of polished white stone. Its ornate craftsmanship was undeniable. He was standing on the lawn of Tor’s capitol building.

  “Kandish!” Melthas’s voice rang from the cobblestone path.

  Kandish? Cornar thought, turning around. In the first of these odd dreams, he had been himself. But in each subsequent dream he was reliving events from another person’s point of view. First General Breyen and now Kandish Loush. But why?

  Melthas dismounted. He wore a uniform made from thick cloth and brown chain mail. His weapons bounced at his hips as he approached Cornar.

  Unsettled by the nature of these dreams, Cornar gave his father a questioning glance.

  “Why the unfriendly demeanor?” Melthas asked, gesturing with his hands.

  I crafted these experiences for your benefit. Cornar remembered the words of that booming voice. My benefit? Cornar narrowed his eyes. Was he to learn from the past?

  Still unsettled, Cornar glanced about, studying his surroundings. He recalled an exchange he’d witnessed between his father and Kandish Loush here at the capital, the last time Cornar saw his father alive.

  “Well?” Melthas prodded, putting his hands on his hips. He brushed against the hilts of his weapons, causing them to sway.

  “Nothing,” Cornar shook his head.

  “Where are the children?” Melthas asked, looking past Cornar.

  Cornar hadn’t seen the younger version of himself or his sister, Galana. “Around,” he answered and searched the lawn. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Cornar asked. “Go off to Laelin Lake?”

  “I can’t believe you’re still bringing this up,” Melthas groaned. “I thought you wanted us to strike at the Order of the Red whenever we had the chance.”

  The Order of the Red? Cornar had never heard of that organization. Wasn’t Melthas after a Mindolarn prince?

  “This is a prime time to strike. We’ll deliver a devastating blow and then vanish. The plan is perfect, Kandish! We
’ll show them that the Western Sovereignty will not suffer their wickedness.”

  “You’ll die,” Cornar blurted.

  Melthas furrowed his brow, eyeing Cornar.

  “Your children will be orphans…”

  “Then come along if you’re so worried,” Melthas said. “Having you by our side will ensure victory. Those half-breeds are no match for you.”

  Kandish, a warrior? Cornar almost laughed at the thought, but he held his composure, studying his father. Melthas had a fiery look in his eyes. “I know you said it goes against your Oaths, but that hasn’t stopped you in the past,” Melthas said. “I remember you told me you wished your kind could act more overtly, actively change the world.”

  Act overtly? Kandish wasn’t some sort of spy, was he? I wonder what would happen if I played dumb… could I get answers?

  “What do you mean?” Cornar asked.

  Melthas grinned. “I see… Well, we are in public, after all. I suppose I can’t blame you.”

  What did he mean by that?

  “Father!” a boy cried, followed by a girl, shouting.

  Cornar turned as the younger version of himself ran toward them. The boy darted right past Cornar and tackled Melthas, nearly knocking him to the ground. “Cor!” Melthas shouted with glee. He wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him tightly.

  Heartache struck Cornar as he watched the scene, and a tear trickled down his cheek.

  “What’s wrong, Kandish?” little Galana asked, grabbing Cornar’s hand. She looked up at him with innocent eyes. Cornar couldn’t bring himself to answer her.

  “Galana!” Melthas shouted the name in a melodic tone. He swept his daughter up and carried her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

  “I’m glad you two could meet me here,” Melthas said, setting Galana down. He wrapped his arms around both of his children, smiling. “Oh, I love you both!”

  “We love you too, Papa,” Galana said, resting her head against Melthas’s arm.

  “How long are you going to be gone this time?” young Cor asked.

  “A few months,” Melthas said. Cornar was replaying the conversation in his mind, hearing his father’s words before Melthas spoke them. “But I’ll be back. I always come back.”

  “Where are you going this time?”

  “That’s a secret,” Melthas said. He tapped young Cor’s nose, as he always did when keeping a secret from his children. “I’ll be back in a month. You’ll be staying with Kandish until then.”

  Young Cor wasn’t happy. Cornar remembered feeling left out of all the action. At the time, Cornar thought he was old enough, strong enough, to go out with his father.

  “Don’t be sulky, Cor,” Melthas said. “One day, you’ll be on the battlefield. You’ll be valiant.”

  “But if you keep going out to battle there won’t be any bad guys left,” young Cor lamented.

  Melthas laughed. “Evil is always lurking in this world, Cor. The world needs good men like you to lead those willing to defend what is right. One day, you’ll lead your own company of men. And you’ll be a good leader. I see it in you, son. Kandish sees it in you.” Melthas pointed to Cornar.

  Young Cor frowned. Cornar wished he hadn’t frowned, nor said what he was about to say…

  “It’s always later with you, Father,” young Cor said, sighing and pulling away. He stomped off across the lawn. Sorrow erupted within Cornar. Why did he have to relive this? If there was one thing Cornar could do over in his past, it would be this very moment. Ever since his youth Cornar had regretted treating his father harshly.

  Melthas sighed and hugged his daughter tightly. “Be good, little one. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Papa,” little Galana said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. Was that the last gesture of affection Melthas had experienced?

  Little Galana ran after young Cor, leaving Melthas alone with Cornar.

  “You can still come along,” Melthas said.

  That beckoning felt so surreal…

  “We should be at Laelin Lake in three weeks,” Melthas said, and returned to his horse. He mounted and looked to Cornar. “Just don’t swoop in at the last moment and take all the credit,” Melthas said, grinning, as if those words were to mean something.

  “Don’t go yet,” Cornar urged. “Don’t part with your son like this.”

  Melthas pulled on the reins, turning the horse. He glanced across the lawn to where young Cor sat, looking at the sky. “He’ll be fine.”

  Melthas kicked the sides of his horse and trotted back the way he had come.

  “Melthas!” Cornar shouted. “Melthas!” But his father didn’t answer.

  Overcome with anguish, Cornar dropped to the ground. “What am I supposed to learn from this?!” Cornar shouted as tears began flowing from his eyes. “There was nothing here!” He cried, heartbroken at reliving the pain of never seeing his father again. Tears clouded his vision as Cornar watched Melthas disappear. He wished he had Karenna to hold.

  “Cor…” That was Karenna’s voice.

  Heart beating wildly, Cornar rose and spun, steadying into a battle stance. Karenna stood before him, hands clasped at her waist. This was not his wife, it couldn’t be…

  “Oh, Cor,” the not-Karenna said, giggling. She cupped a hand to her mouth, exactly how Karenna behaved when acting playful…

  “You’re not my wife,” Cornar said.

  The not-Karenna shrugged playfully.

  “What am I supposed to learn from this?” Cornar demanded, still poised to strike.

  “Well, there was quite a bit of information here,” she said. “And if I told you outright it would ruin the fun. Not to mention that you probably won’t do certain things, things that you need to do.” The not-Karenna squinted. “But, I’ll give you one hint. No, I take that back.” She waggled her finger.

  Cornar gritted his teeth. Who was this person infecting his dreams? It was no coincidence that this being appeared in the form of the one from whom he most sought comfort.

  “Who are you?” Cornar demanded.

  The not-Karenna smiled and shook her head. “That, you are not supposed to know… yet. Time to wake up, Cor. Kaescis has arrived.”

  The world flew away. Colors whizzed past Cornar in a dazzling display that made him woozy. Everything went black, and he snapped awake.

  Cornar found himself in a tent outside the farmhouse inn, the same place where he’d retired the previous night. The sound of horses echoed across the pasture.

  Are the Mindolarnians really here? he wondered, grabbing some clothing. Cornar dressed in a hurry, secured a belt around his waist and hoisted his weapons.

  He exited his tent and stood at the door, dumbfounded. Hundreds of soldiers were crowded between the village and the farmhouse. They were dressed in silvery armor, their breastplates emblazoned with the seven-headed hydra of Mindolarn. Some carried flags ornamented with that symbol.

  Others were on horseback, clad in blood-red armor, with wicked-looking fanisars hoisted upon their backs. There was something ominous about those soldiers in red.

  A black horse caught Cornar’s eye. Its rider was armored unlike the rest of the soldiers. He wore golden-red plate armor that looked formfitting. Like the others, the symbol of the Mindolarn Empire was on his breastplate. Parts of the armor glistened, as if they were gemstones shining in sunlight. Bright red rivets lined pieces of the armor.

  Cornar couldn’t tell who was under the armor, but he assumed it was Kaescis. The helmet covered his face but didn’t have any slits for his eyes. How could the prince see in that thing?

  Curious, Cornar picked his way across the field. The man in the golden-red armor dismounted and gave orders to the soldiers concerning the wagons procured by Cornar and his men.

  “Kaescis,” Cornar called, hoping to draw out the prince from the crowd.

  The man in golden-red armor turned. He flipped up the helmet’s faceplate, revealing himself to be the prince.

  “Mister Dol’s
hir,” Kaescis smiled, his violet eyes staring at Cornar. “It is good to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” Cornar said, coming within arm’s reach of the prince. “We look like we’re preparing for war.”

  Kaescis smiled wryly. There was something sinister about that grin. A bloodlust. Cornar hadn’t seen Kaescis in such a manner.

  “If our enemies attack us, we will be prepared,” Kaescis said. “Where is Master Krindal?”

  Cornar shrugged. “He disappeared shortly after we moored in Kretin. I sent some of my people to look for him, but they couldn’t find him. I supposed he was invisible, so Sharon was looking for him with her lenses.”

  “Invisible?” Kaescis cocked his head.

  “He fled after hearing about elves staying at the inn where we chose to lodge,” Cornar said. The prince narrowed his eyes, and Cornar felt that bloodlust intensify. “Why would he be afraid of elves?” Cornar asked. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “Krindal had a hostile encounter with them,” Kaescis said. “It was frightening for him.” Cornar could sense the prince was holding back. What was he hiding? “We will need to find Krindal before we leave for Klindil,” Kaescis said. “I will scour the city—”

  “Your Imperial Highness!” a voice shouted from the farmhouse. It sounded like Krindal… Cornar spun, gazing at the porch. By Heleron’s Scales! When did he get here?

  Krindal stood boldly on the porch, looking like a wild man. His robe was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his beard scraggly. Krindal swiftly descended the stairs and hurried toward Cornar and the prince.

  “Master Krindal,” Kaescis said, bowing respectfully.

  “How long have you been here?” Cornar asked Krindal with confusion.

  “A few days,” said the necromancer-scholar, giving Cornar a curt glance. What was his problem? Why was Krindal acting terse…?

  “Now that we’re all here, there’s no need to delay our trip,” Kaescis said. “Ready your men, Mister Dol’shir. We will get the wagons moving. Once your men are roused, come to the head of the convoy. I have a horse waiting for you. There’s one for you as well, Master Krindal.”