The Fallen Kings

by P D Atkerson

  “Now…” Telarian started, but was cut short when the door was thrown open, and an out of breath guard hurried in.

  “My lord, there’s a messenger from the Zilladiens.” He gasped out. “Who wishes to speak with you.”

  Everyone waited in silence for Telarian’s response. The king stared at the guard for a moment, without speaking. “Does he come alone?” the guard nodded. “Then bring him here.”

  With a quick bow, the guard stepped back out the door and hurried away, to return a moment later, a Zilladien warrior by his side.

  “He carries no weapon, my lord.” The guard said, releasing his grip from the messenger, pushing him towards the table. Aroron noticed he didn’t ever remove his hand from the hilt of his sword. Smart man.

  In total, there was probably a dozen swords, between the Zilladien messenger and King Telarian. If he’d come to try something, he was dumber than he looked.

  “Of course I don’t have a weapon! I’m here to speak about a peace treaty, why would I bring a weapon?” the messenger asked, looking disgustedly at the guard. “You Shenockiens.” He mumbled, shaking his head.

  “A peace treaty? Now why would you want to do that?” Telarian asked, frowning as he crossed his arms and looked down at the messenger. He obviously didn’t believe that was all he was there for. Aroron couldn’t blame him, he didn’t believe a word of it either. “Your army’s just taken the Lower Town, and your men out number mine. So, why now?”

  “Because, my lord, Commander Demy wishes to stop the needless bloodshed, if you’re willing.” The messenger said, eyeing Telarian. “You are the king, are you not?”

  “Yes, I am.” Telarian said, gritting his teeth. “Show this treaty to me.”

  Bowing his head, the messenger slowly reached into his satchel and withdrew a scroll, watching the guard the whole time. “I meant no offense.” He said, stepping forwards, with the scroll held out in front of him.

  One of the nobles took it from him and carried it over to Telarian. Hesitantly, Telarian took it from him and looked down at it, as if it might carry an illness. He placed it on the table and motioned to the guard. “Take our friend here away, until we decide what to do about this.”

  The guard quickly bowed, grabbed the messenger’s arm and drug him back out of the room. The doors slamming shut behind them.

  “May I, my lord?” one of the nobles asked, reaching towards the scroll.

  Telarian nodded. “Go ahead, but read it aloud.”

  By the time the noble was finished reading the treaty, the tension in the room had risen higher than before. None of them were quite sure what to say.

  Sighing and rubbing his head, Telarian took a step back from the table and turned away. He stretched out his back, as he stared out the windows over looking the city. On the horizon, Zilladien fires burned in the Lower Town.

  “What do you think?” he asked, finally turning around towards the table again. He looked around at the nobles and soldiers, waiting for a reply. No one spoke. Telarian turned towards Aroron. “What do you think?”

  Aroron shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good idea, but you are the king, and not I.” He said, bowing his head. “Do as you see right.”

  “As if what you think, matters.” Commander Windgale mumbled under his breath. Aroron glanced toward him and rolled his eyes. He’d been acting hostile towards him ever since Telarian had chosen Aroron to lead the men against the Zilladiens, instead of him.

  As it was, Telarian didn’t hear the man’s remark. “That was a very vague answer from you. Is that all you have to say?”

  Aroron glanced towards Windgale and nodded. “Yes, my lord. That is all.”

  “Does anyone else have anything better to say about it?” Telarian asked, looking from one to the next, but none of them spoke. “I guess I have to make this choice on my own.” He said, sitting back in his chair. “Alright, I choose to stop this madness, if that means losing some of our freedom… so be it.”

  Telarian’s hand trembled as he picked the pen up and pressed the tip of it against the paper. In a flourish, he signed. Then he took the candle and let the wax drip off and onto the treaty, sealing it with his ring.

  “There.” He said, rolling the scroll up. “There’s no going back now. So, please, continue to keep your thought to yourselves.” King Telarian said, smiling as he handed the scroll to one of his servants. “I guess now we wait and see what comes of this.”

  Aroron cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “Is that all you needed then, my lord?” he asked.

  “Yes, I guess we’re done here.” King Telarian said. “At least for now.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Aroron said, bowing. He turned and hurried out of the room, the second he stepped out into the hallway he let out a sigh. He hated those kinds of meetings, and the treaty hadn’t helped things. He knew no good would come from it, the Zilladiens had something up their sleeve.

  Shaking away his darkening thoughts, Aroron glanced towards the clock down the hall. Good. Gana would still be out in one of the gardens, hopefully he could find out which one, before she went back inside.

  “Are you done in the meeting?” Lady Gana asked, rising from the bench the moment she saw him coming towards her. She looked at Aroron and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  Aroron tried to shrug it off, but he knew she wouldn’t just let it drop. “Oh…Telarian signed a treaty with the Zilladiens, today. That’s all.”

  Gana frowned and tilted her head. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. Well, maybe not.” Aroron mumbled. “I won’t know if it is or it isn’t, until it’s too late.”

  “Oh.” She said, pressing her lips together. “Well, I’m sure everything will work out fine. I’m just glad this means the war is over already. If you think about it, it really wasn’t that bad and you still made it out alive, that’s all that really matters.”

  Aroron stared at her. “Gana, what about all the soldiers that lost their lives out there, defending this Palace? Don’t their lives matter?”

  Lady Gana's face contracted into pain. “Aroron, of course they matter.” She whispered. “I just… I can’t let myself think about them, or I…” She cleared her throat and turned away from Aroron. “I’m sorry, I hate for anyone to see me like this.”

  “You don’t want to show that you care about others?” Aroron asked, taking her hand. “I think your kindness is one of your best traits.”

  Slowly, Gana turned back towards him and smiled. “You’re such a charmer, Aroron. It’s a wonder you’re not already engaged.”

  Aroron swallowed, and he felt his mouth go dry. He let go of her hand took a step back. She noticed.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, looking sadly at Aroron with her blue eyes.

  “No, it’s just… I don’t plan on getting engaged until I’m ready to marry.” He mumbled staring at the ground. “And I… don’t think that’s going to be for a long time. I just want you to know that.”

  “Why are you saying this?”

  Aroron forced himself to raise his gaze and looked her full in the face. “Because… when I do plan on marrying, I want that person to understand this. I want you to understand this.”

  Gana’s eyes lit up. “Oh? In that case.” She bent forwards and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll wait how ever long it takes.”

  “Lady Gana?” One of the servants called, appearing in front of them. “Her ladyship would like you to come to her cabinet room.”

  “I must go.” She said, squeezing his hand. “See you this evening.” With that, she hurried towards the servant. Aroron stared after her. Did he just get engaged to be engaged? He shook his head and turned the other way.

  He didn’t understand royalty at all.

  Chapter 25

  Mistreated

  Less than twenty-four hours after the treaty had been signed, Aroron and the rest of Telarian’s council were told to meet in the throne room to welcome the Zilladien army’s commander,
Demy.

  This was the last place Aroron wanted to be. The sight of the Zilladiens caused his skin to crawl. But he had no choice. He stood stiffly at the edge of the throne room, as the doors swung open and one of the warriors waltzed through, followed closely by his men. He looked like an arrogant Draven, and the sight of him made Aroron sick! Why was Telarian doing this to him? Wasn’t it enough he’d fought against these monsters?

  The Zilladien army’s leader, looked much like the rest of the warriors, his clothing black and savage. But there was also something different about him, he held himself with authority. As he moved towards the throne, he looked around at the nobles.

  His cold eyes lingered on Aroron, then moved to Telarian, who sat upon the throne. Telarian looked like he wished he could be anywhere else other than there. Why was he doing this if he didn’t want to? He was king after all.

  “You must be Commander Demy.” King Telarian said, rising to his feet. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  “The honor is mine, your majesty.” Demy said, bowing his head towards Telarian, his men quickly did the same. “I was grateful to hear you signed the treaty, so no more of my men will die.”

  “I agree completely.” Telarian said, nodding. “Enough blood has already been spilled.”

  Demy smiled. “Oh, and to show my belief in this treaty, I’ve brought you a gift.” The Zilladien said, as the men behind him split and they shoved someone forwards.

  Bound hand and foot, with a sack pulled over his head, was a young man. They pushed him to his knees in front of the throne. Demy stepped up beside him and motioned to the boy.

  “Here is your gift.”

  Telarian’s face turned sour. “A slave?” He barely choked out the words, as he dropped back into his throne. “You brought me a… a slave for a gift?”

  “Far better than that.” Demy said, as one of the warriors stepped forwards and yanked the sack off the boy’s head. His short white hair was spiked from the static of the cloth. “An Eloun slave, King Telarian.”

  A gasp went up from the nobles, and many of them stepped back from him, as if they thought he might attack.

  The Eloun raised his head and looked defiantly up at Telarian. He hissed something under his breath in Old Eloundien, and the Zilladien slammed his boot into his back. Causing the Eloun to flinch in pain.

  It was then Aroron saw the Eloun’s face and his stomach lurched. Slanslot? Of all Elouns, why’d it have to be one he knew?! Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his head. What was he going to do?

  Telarian sat forwards and stared at Slanslot’s white hair. “A real Eloun? I thought they were myths.” He mumbled, squinting at Slanslot, as if he were some rare animal.

  “Does this look like a myth?” the Zilladien asked, playing with Slanslot’s hair as if he were a dog. “I think not.”

  Aroron noticed Slanslot’s body tense, but there was nothing he could do. To Demy he wasn’t anything more than a dog. For a split second, Aroron wondered what Demy would do if he knew Aroron was an Oddity.

  Zilla thrived on the blood and sweat of Oddity slaves.

  It was irony, or maybe a cruel joke, that now that Shenock was ruled by someone who didn’t fear Odditys, they should now become allies with Zilla.

  King Telarian turned towards one of his servants and guards. “Take our… guest, to one of the empty chambers.” He mumbled to them. “And make sure to put a guard outside.”

  Once the guards and the servants took Slanslot away, Telarian turned back to the Zilladien commander.

  “Demy, I’d like you to meet one of my commanders. One of the few master swordsmen I know, who isn’t twice my age.” King Telarian said to the Zilladien, with a laugh. “Aroron, come forwards, please.”

  At first Aroron didn’t even recognize his name, it took a nudge from one of his soldiers behind him, for it to hit him. He flashed a smile at the soldier, as he gave him a nod of thanks and hurried forwards, towards the end of the throne room.

  He fought the urge to shudder, as he drew nearer to where the Zilladien stood.

  “What are you doing?” Aroron mumbled to Telarian, moving to stand next to the throne. “Why am I here?”

  “I want him to meet my new High Commander.” King Telarian said. “Is that a problem?”

  Aroron raised his eyebrow. “I thought Windgale was your High Commander.” He said. “Is that not true?”

  “He was.” Telarian said, nodding. “But not anymore."

  Aroron glanced towards Windgale, who stood, eyeing them. “Is that a good idea, my lord?” he asked. “I mean, you already have a lot of nobles breathing down your neck because of how young you are.”

  “Enough. I didn’t have you come over here to argue with you.” Telarian whispered, looking flushed. “Say hello to Commander Demy, Aroron. We will finish this talk another time.” Aroron knew he wasn’t asking if he wanted to be his High Commander, it was another order. Maybe he was starting to get power hungry.

  “Yes, sir.” Aroron mumbled, turning towards the Zilladien. “Commander Demy, I am Aroron.” He said, nodding towards him. “It's… an honor to meet you.” His words tasted foul as they passed through his lips. He didn’t mean a word of it.

  “Aroron…? Is that not Karlien?” Demy asked, looking Aroron over.

  King Telarian glanced towards him and they both seemed to be waiting for him. Aroron cleared his throat. “Yes, my parents were Karlien.”

  Demy nodded. “I see.”

  “I nearly forgot!” Telarian said, cutting in. “We’ll have a ball tonight, to celebrate this treaty, I hope you and your men will be able to attend?” he asked the Zilladien commander.

  “Yes, your majesty.” Demy said, bowing his head towards the king. “We would be grateful to attend. At what time will it be?”

  As they decided the details of the party, Aroron edged his way back and away from them. Neither of them seemed to notice, so he hurried out of the throne room. There was something he needed to do, and he needed to do it before everyone left the throne room.

  He had to speak with Slanslot, without anyone else knowing about it.

  Going down the corridor, Aroron looked around him, searching for the guard he’d seen leave the throne room with the Eloun. But he kept walking and turned the corner past him.

  Aroron stopped and rested back against the wall, closing his eyes. What was he doing? Was it worth risking his life there to go speak with the Eloun? But it wasn’t just any Eloun, it was Slanslot, someone he knew personally.

  Standing up tall, Aroron slowly turned and walked around the corner, towards the guard. “The king wished for me to speak to the Eloun.” Aroron said, looking the guard straight in the face. “Where was he placed?”

  “Um…” the guard hesitated, glancing around.

  “Is there a problem?” Aroron asked, crossed his arms so the guard could see his sword. “Do I need to bring the king here himself to speak with you?”

  “No, sir!” the guard said, quickly. “The Eloun was placed in the far chamber in the east side of the Palace. That’s all I know about it though.” He said, swallowing.

  Aroron nodded. “That’s fine. I don’t need to know anything else.” He said, stepping back. “Good day.”

  The guard saluted and Aroron turned and walked down the hall, his heart thudding. He hoped the guard didn’t tell anyone that he’d asked about this.

  He hadn’t gone very far down the hall, when he saw something bright yellow out of the corner of his eye.

  “There you are, Aroron.” Gana cried, running up behind him as she grabbed his arm. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She said and Aroron looked down at her dress. She was the bright yellow he’d seen; she strangely resembled the sun.

  “What is it, my lady?” he asked, trying not to sound as snippy as he felt, as he turned to face her. He did not need to be interrupted right then. But at least, if it had to happen, it was Gana and not someone else.

  “The meeting with the Zilladiens has just end
ed, but I wanted to make sure you and I could go to the ball together.” Gana said, smiling at him.

  “Do you wish to go with me?” Aroron asked, tugging at his collar. “Surely there’s someone else you’d rather go with.”

  Lady Gana looked at him and laughed. “Now, who would I wish to go with, other than you? Aroron strange... that’s what you are.” She said, blushing.

  “I just wanted to make sure, my lady.” Aroron said, smiling back at her. “What time do you wish to be there?”

  “Any time that is good for you, is good for me.”

  Aroron closed his eyes for a second and thought about it. “When does the ball start?”

  “Oh… after seven tolls, I believe.”

  He nodded. “How about we meet at the ball room at seven thirty, I have a few things I must do before then.” That gave him half an hour with everyone busy elsewhere, to speak with Slanslot.

  “Alright, seven thirty it is.” Gana said, squeezing his arm. “See you then.”

  “Until then.” Aroron said, taking her hand, he kissed it. He gave her a wink, as he stepped back and resumed walking by himself. He was going to have to wait until later to speak with Slanslot, at least now he knew where he was.

  Aroron found something to keep himself busy until seven. As soon as he was sure most of the nobles would be in the ball room, he made his way towards the east side of the Palace. Hopefully the guard was right about where they’d taken Slanslot. He didn’t have time to waste searching for him.

  But for once, luck was on his side. Only one guard stood in this part of the Palace. This had to be the place. Slanslot had to be behind that door he guarded so intently. There was no other reason for him to be in this empty part of the Palace.

  Keeping his hood up, Aroron crept down the hallway. Edging only so close, that he was still sure the guards couldn’t see him. If he did, then he might start asking questions Aroron didn’t want to have to answer.

  Luckily, his coat seemed to help him blend into the darkness and he found it easy to watch the guard, without being seen.

  Running his gaze along the wall next to the guard, Aroron realized something. If the chamber Slanslot was in, was like any of the others, then there was probably a connecting room. One, they might not have thought to guard. Quickly, he looked around until he spotted the nearest door to it.