A Prince's Errand

by Dan Zangari

  Cornar admired the architecture in the halls. The halls were completely illuminated with their lightstone lanterns. It was just as grand and intricate as the architecture outside. There were even sconces on the walls that were intact. They most likely held lightstones at one time, but now they were empty.

  “Here,” Sharon said, stopping beside the wall to their right. The place where she stood looked smooth. Not even the light could show the seam in the wall. “I don’t see a mechanism…” The scouts began searching for something to activate the hidden door. Soon, everyone was searching. “There’s another one here,” Sharon said. She was about thirty phineals away from the first hidden door. “I don’t see anything between them.”

  “Perhaps they’re activated by words,” Kaescis speculated.

  “Like a spell?” Vargos asked.

  “No,” Kaescis shook his head. “Some tevisrals are sound-activated. A lot of ancient tevisrals were made in such a manner, especially ones fused into architecture.”

  “Fused into architecture?” Krindal spoke up. “Are you saying there’s tevisrals in these ruins?”

  “Most likely,” Kaescis said, sliding his hand across the wall. “It could be touch activated… or coded to biological indicators.” The prince nodded as if coming to a conclusion. “That’d provide an additional layer of defense.” What was Kaescis talking about?

  “Biological indicators?” Krindal asked. “What is that, Your Imperial Highness?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Kaescis said, pulling away from the wall. “I’d have to explain theories and laws of nature that would be unfathomable to you.” Now that was arrogant… Was Kaescis claiming—in a roundabout manner—that the Mindolarn Empire had a better understanding of the world than anyone else? Krindal pursed his lips and glanced to Cornar.

  “Maybe there’s something in the big room,” Sharon suggested and continued down the hall. Everyone hurried after her. Cornar took up the rear.

  Soon, they entered a huge room with a barrel ceiling. It was at least four stories high. Moonlight spilled into the space from openings lining the base of the ceiling. Beds were organized throughout the room. A fire pit was near the hallway, and another near the far wall. The nearest pit had ashes in it. Clothing hung on lines, stretched between more broken statues lining the walls.

  “There’s more of those doors in here,” Sharon said, pointing to a spot between two statues. “One there, another at the far end.” The party broke up and began searching the space, but Cornar surveyed the room. A knot formed in his stomach, accompanied by an ominous presence. Danger! The hidden doors in the walls flew open. Footfalls echoed from the hallway Cornar and the others had traversed, as well as from another corridor.

  Darkened figures of the Wildmen burst from the hidden doors and the hallways, carrying crude weapons. Sharon jumped. Ordreth ran in front of Sharon to protect her. Laeyit dropped into a battle stance as well as Bratan. Krindal reached for Kaescis, grabbing the prince’s arm. Kaescis, however, stood still. The scouts froze. The warriors began moving but stopped; they glanced to Cornar, awaiting orders.

  Crenai screamed and dropped her lantern. She hurriedly backed away, but tripped and fell. Vargos groaned with disgust.

  Why had he—

  Cornar finally focused on the Wildmen surrounding them. He had only seen darkened figures and was too busy accounting for everyone’s positions before really noticing who was surrounding them.

  Their faces… they… they were deformed and covered in strange fur. They looked humanoid, but… they weren’t men! By Heleron’s Trident, what were they?

  “Worlds will be bridged, kingdoms will collapse, and a star will fall from the heavens.”

  - Prophecy of Soron Thahan

  Cornar steadied into a wide stance, gazing at the Wildmen surrounding him and his men. Cornar could clearly see their features, now that they were illuminated by the lightstone lanterns.

  The Wildmen’s faces looked like someone had stretched their noses and their mouths to mimic the snout of a beast. Protruding brows stood out above their eyes, like a strange cranial feature. Their hands were large, with thick fingers. The Wildmen wore ragged clothes but their arms, neck, and faces were covered in thick brown hair. Everything else, however, looked human.

  The Wildmen edged closer, weapons ready. They eyed Cornar with fierce hostility. He was obviously perceived as an invader. Don’t fight, Cornar thought, breathing calmly. Laeyit and Bratan were ready for battle. Kaescis, however, remained calm.

  The prince shook Krindal’s arm free and walked in a circle, looking at the Wildmen. What is he doing? Cornar thought.

  Vargos caught Cornar’s eye, and the barsionist mouthed, “Should I cast a spell?” Cornar shook his head. Although the Wildmen looked hostile, they didn’t seem bloodthirsty.

  “Ahrond uhm ahp!” one of the Wildmen shouted. Was that Common? Cornar wondered. It sounded like he commanded the others to—

  The Wildmen rushed toward the perceived invaders, swinging their weapons. A cacophony of battle resonated throughout the hall. Amid the noises he heard several spells being cast, by Krindal and Vargos… and was that Kaescis too?

  Cornar glimpsed a Wildman approaching from the left and another from the right. They wielded crude cudgels.

  Left is holding his weapon sloppily, Cornar thought and dashed to the Wildman on the left. The Wildman looked young. He was probably inexperienced.

  Cornar evaded a swing, dodging under the cudgel. He grabbed the Wildman’s wrist as the weapon passed, yanking his foe’s arm. The jolt threw the Wildman off balance, and Cornar kicked out his nearest leg. Cornar circled around, still holding the Wildman’s wrist, and hammered the bottom of his fist to the base of his foe’s neck. Stunned, the Wildman let go of his weapon, but before it fell Cornar snatched it.

  By this time, the other Wildman had reached him. Cornar leapt forward as the second Wildman swung his cudgel. The blow was too low to duck but also too high to jump over. Cornar spun, blocking the blow. He came about, elbowing the Wildman in the head. The first Wildman grunted while struggling to stand.

  Cornar backed away, putting both of his opponents in front of him. He glimpsed his men effectively defending against the Wildmen. Kalder and Gregan were covered in Vargos’s shielding magic; the warriors glowed with bright blue light. Everyone was moving, except for Kaescis.

  The prince was just standing there, holding a—no! It couldn’t be, could it? A black vapor misted from Kaescis’s outstretched hand, and then a black blade coalesced, composed of magic.

  Like those knights, Cornar thought, remembering the first dream he had experienced, the one with his father and Adrin.

  Movement caught his eye, and the two Wildmen advanced. The armed one swung his weapon while the other leapt to tackle Cornar. Their movement was telegraphed sloppily, and Cornar easily evaded them.

  Amid the melee, Kaescis shouted a sharp-sounding phrase, and all the Wildmen froze. The two beside Cornar began talking to each other in that broken form of Common. It sounded like they were confused.

  “Put down your weapons,” Kaescis shouted. “We mean you no harm.” One of the Wildmen stepped forward, the same who had given the order to attack. The Wildman approached the prince, eyeing him up and down, and then asked a question Cornar couldn’t understand.

  “Are you the leader?” Kaescis asked, dismissing his black blade. The weapon broke down to mist, then wisped away.

  So he can use that magic too, Cornar mused. But Kaescis used an incantation to muster it… Intrigued, Cornar thought of Iltar and how he could muster those same black corrosive particles—without incantation.

  The Wildman nodded while speaking a reply. The two words weren’t intelligible, but Cornar thought he might have said, “I am.”

  “We must speak,” Kaescis said. “Alone.”

  The armed Wildman beside Cornar shouted, sounding worried. He repeated a word, “Gevistra,” using it like a name. Cornar eyed the Wildman with a curious glance.
What’s wrong with these people? Cornar thought. They talked like children learning to speak for the first time.

  There was a short exchange between the Wildmen and their leader. Amid the conversation, the armed Wildman beside Cornar spoke, his tone commanding. “Euw,” the Wildman said. “Go.” He repeated it, nudging Cornar with his cudgel.

  Euw? Cornar wondered as the Wildman pointed across the room. Could that be ‘you’?

  The Wildman nudged Cornar again, more forcefully this time, and resumed pointing. He gestured to the statues along the wall. Several other Wildmen were urging the others in the same direction.

  “Everyone stay calm,” Kaescis said. “Do as they say.” The prince was the only one not being urged to the wall. Cornar took a step forward. The Wildman spoke another unintelligible word while holding out his freehand. “Ehpin!” he repeated.

  Confused, Cornar raised his brow, then glanced to the stolen cudgel. Oh, he grinned, he wants this weapon… Still grinning, Cornar handed his stolen cudgel back to the Wildman and joined the others. They huddled together between the two maimed statues. His warriors looked at him with disappointment. They were itching for a good fight.

  The scouts chattered to each other while the Mindolarn leaders stayed quiet.

  “Well, that was fun,” Nordal said. “While it lasted…”

  “You’re always looking for a fight,” Ordreth observed.

  “Yeah?” Nordal said, hoping to provoke more from Ordreth. Ordreth, however, just glanced at him.

  The Wildman leader shouted a command, and several Wildmen grabbed some rope. They bound the prince and then moved for those against the wall.

  “Let them bind you,” Kaescis shouted.

  The Wildmen tied everyone up with a long rope, keeping them close together.

  “This is ridiculous,” Gregan said with a grunt.

  “We need to be compliant,” Kalder said calmly.

  The warriors and scouts complained about the cords, but Cornar ignored them. Cornar watched the Wildman leader, as he supposed, walk away with Kaescis and a few armed Wildmen. They went deeper into the large room, their footsteps fading. It sounded like they went down another corridor. Cornar hadn’t seen a hallway at the other end. Then again, he hadn’t had much time to examine the room before they were jumped by the Wildmen.

  “What are those things?” Crenai asked, sounding terrified.

  “They’re the Wildmen,” Laeyit said. She leaned against a statue, clasping her tied hands. Her face showed her utter disgust.

  “But they’re not human…” Crenai muttered.

  Were they not human? Cornar didn’t know much about the Wildmen of Klindala, only that they were primitive tribes that inhabited most of the island and were descendants of the Klindala Dynasty. But that dynasty had crumbled at the end of the Karthar War, an event that occurred nearly a thousand years ago.

  If the Wildmen were cut off from the outside world, it would explain the corruption of their language and their primitive nature, but not their strange features.

  The people of the Klindala Dynasty were human, weren’t they? Humans and elves were the only kind of people that inhabited Kalda, as far as Cornar knew.

  So what were these Wildmen?

  * * * * *

  Kaescis followed the Wildman leader, walking through more winding corridors. He deduced—from the crude conversation between the other Wildmen—that the leader’s name was Gevistra. The Wildman leader hunched over as he walked, an effect of his mutated body.

  These poor fools, Kaescis thought. They don’t even know what they’re missing. That fueled a burning anger inside him. His hatred toward the Karthar rebels grew, igniting a bloodlust.

  Death. The word lingered at the back of his mind, like a distant whisper. Kaescis sighed. I’m becoming my old self, he mused. It had to be the more frequent use of the Ko’delish, and that blade. Yes, the blade. Whenever his father and his uncles wielded those massive blades they were filled with fury. That must be the answer.

  They neared an open door, and Gevistra gestured to it. He spoke, but was hard to understand. Gevistra repeated himself, obviously wanting Kaescis to enter before him.

  “In there,” Kaescis guessed. “You first.” The accent was so thick, almost like another language. The Wildman spoke as if his tongue was swollen.

  Gevistra opened his mouth again, but Kaescis complied and entered the room. The Wildmen remained at the door, eyeing him. By the way they stood it seemed they were trying to bar him from escaping. Well, at least they thought they were barring him. Kaescis could easily cut through them and slay the entire population of the fortress. Their corpses would—

  Focus, he told himself. The Ko’delish’s effects were becoming nigh uncontrollable. It was like his mind ran amok with thoughts of death.

  Death.

  Gevistra finally entered the room, standing as straight-backed as possible. He asked a question, then another. They both started with the word Wae. Probably “why,” Kaescis thought, parsing the corrupted language. “Why you here,” was the first question. The second was harder to understand.

  “Your language is corrupt,” Kaescis said, “It is hard for me to understand you. Please, be patient.”

  Gevistra nodded, seeming agitated, and slowly repeated the questions. The second question ended with the word, “took-kin.”

  Token? Kaescis wondered. Was Gevistra asking about the Token spoken by the Devouts when reverencing Lord Cheserith? Kaescis had spoken it amid the assault. “The Token is the sign of true discipleship,” he answered. “I knew that if I were to speak it to you, that you’d forgo attacking us.”

  The Wildmen looked at each other in confusion.

  “I am Prince Kaescis Midivar, sixth in line to the Mindolarn throne. I am the son of Mindolarn the first emperor, who was the son of Madars, the son of Karath’nos, begotten through the lineage of Ku’tharn.”

  Upon hearing the names the Wildmen’s eyes widened. They gasped and trembled. Gevistra fell to his knees and huddled before Kaescis, repeating a word in a shaky tone. It sounded like “forgive,” although certain sounds were emphasized and neglected. The others also repeated the word and knelt.

  Kaescis smiled, pleased at their piety. It would make this next part that much easier. “Now to answer your question. I have come to your home to seek safe passage for me and my people as we venture to the ruins of Klindil.”

  Gevistra looked up to Kaescis, blinking several times. He commanded the others to cut Kaescis loose. They obeyed, and the rope fell to the ground.

  “Thank you,” Kaescis said, rubbing his wrists.

  Gevistra furrowed his thick brow, then asked another question in his corrupted Common. “Why you go to Klindil?” He pronounced the name “khil-en-dil.” He then said another phrase Kaescis couldn’t understand.

  Was that, “it is dangerous”? Kaescis thought, then answered the question. “I must uncover a great secret hidden there, something that will enable me to bring lasting peace to our world.”

  Gevistra didn’t look convinced.

  “There is a temple, a shrine, hidden beneath your ancient city,” Kaescis said. “We need to visit it. My people will not take anything. We only need information from it.”

  Gevistra said something else about Klindil and spoke of something called fareenars.

  “We’re not here to steal from you,” Kaescis extended his hand to placate the Wildman. “And, I will give you and your people something valuable in exchange for allowing us safe passage to Klindil. Do you speak for all the tribes?”

  Gevistra shook his head. He said something else, including what Kaescis determined was a name, Bhrane.

  “High Chieftain Bhrane?” Kaescis asked. “He leads the tribes?” The Wildman’s impediment was growing tiresome. Gevistra nodded.

  “Can you take me to him?” Kaescis asked. Gevistra nodded again, then asked another question. It included the word geev, and Kaescis deduced Gevistra was asking what he would give them.

  Kae
scis grinned. “I will return your people to your former glory. Here, I’ll demonstrate on one of your men.”

  Gevistra motioned for one of the Wildmen to approach. The man knelt before Kaescis in reverence.

  Kaescis uttered an incantation—not in the tongue used among the men of Kalda. That was a pitiful imitation of the true Words of Power. “Si’nak ma’nal senda.” Green arpran particles gathered in his hands. “Ulak’xin ma’ril kusaz.”

  The arpran magic wisped into the Wildman’s nostrils, and his elongated faced glowed and began to shrink. The Wildman gasped in horror, splaying his mouth wide. Gevistra’s tongue was shrinking.

  Now it’ll be easier to understand them, he thought. Well, this one at least.

  Some of the hair around the Wildman’s neck fell out while his hands shrank. He was starting to look human. Gevistra paled and scurried away, pressing himself against the wall beside the door. The other Wildmen darted through the hall, running away from the room.

  “Gevistra,” the changing Wildman groaned, “what happen to me?” He screamed in pain, collapsing on the ground.

  His speech isn’t perfect, but it’s better than before. Kaescis grinned, pleased with his deed.

  The arpran light faded, and the Wildman curled up on the floor. His mouth and nose were not as pronounced as before, and only some of his hair had shed. Kaescis couldn’t have gone any further with him, or the other tribes would not believe that this man was kin.

  “What you do?” Gevistra asked, still trembling, his words barely understandable.

  “I am undoing an atrocious act,” Kaescis said. “Your people have been deprived for generations, stricken by our ancient enemies. Cursed to live in this… state.” He gestured to Gevistra with disgust. “You and your kind are a fragment of what you could be.”

  “What you mean?” Gevistra asked, mean sounding like mein.

  “To put it simply, your ancestors were cursed because they sided with the true rulers of our world. A thousand years ago, the people of Klindala were turned savage. Your conquerors didn’t want to subjugate you, they thought that barbaric… but they couldn’t allow a chance of you rising in rebellion against them. So they cursed you. They crippled your bodies so you would be clumsy. They twisted your tongues so you couldn’t utter incantations to muster power. They dulled your minds so you couldn’t maintain your cities or operate tevisrals—”