The Passage of Kings

by Anant V Goswami

  A dreadful wail, like the sound of a million crows cawing all at once, filled the air, and the tail of the Serpent lashed out like a whip on a horse, before the black slits rolled into the golden eyes, and the Vizarin’s pet succumbed to his demise.

  The Dragon landed on the ship, and the rider slid off its back. A barrel helm covered his face, with a single horizontal slit for his eyes. Black steel armor covered every inch of his body, including a pauldron wrought in the shape of a snarling dragon which covered his shoulders, and gauntlets on his hand, one of which had a single black stone embedded in the center of the forearm, with green throbbing threadlike lines forming a sigil. The rider stood like a ghost sentinel, as still as a rock, while the dragon took flight, and soared into the sky. Finally, he turned to face Morgyn, and just before he closed his eyes, he saw the sigil painted on the breastplate of the rider; a three-headed dragon with intertwined necks.

  Chapter Nine

  Olver Liongloom

  THE HORSE BELOW him was nervous. He could feel it in the way it moved, neighed and whinnied. Olver himself felt uneasy. A sense of impending doom, like sailing through the calm before the storm had taken hold of the king’s heart. He knew he was being watched. He had known it all along. But it only made sense to avoid the cold red eyes peering at him from amidst the wild web of woods and gnarled branches, slowly trapping him within walls of green. A cold wind swirled around him, making his cloak flap around his steel covered body.

  A bat flew across the path before him, followed by another, and then another. Soon, there was a torrent of them, whirling around man and horse, like black clouds descending to wreak havoc on lands and lakes. Olver brushed one away from his face, but soon there were too many to ignore. The horse neighed once again, not from nervousness, but from the pain caused by the small pointy teeth of the bats biting into its shiny brown coat. It wasn’t long before the stallion reared and threw Olver off its back, as hundreds of bats clung to it like leeches, sucking blood and life from its body.

  Olver fell face down in the soft mud, the impact causing his half- helm to leave his head and roll to a few feet away from him.

  I am exposed to them.

  The bats were upon him before he had a chance to stand up and attempt to flee. He tried to hack and slash his way out of the storm of wings, and when that failed, he tried to hide his face behind the shield, but when a bat chewed its way through the middle, he gave up the hope of defending his face, and surrendered to the brutal onslaught of the black creatures of death.

  The teeth tore through his skin, and found the veins carrying the deep red blood through his body. The sucking was even more painful than the biting.

  Finally, no more running and hiding. I am ready to die.

  However, Olver had to wait for the cold embrace of death. The bats left him in a hurry, fleeing into the darkness of the woods, leaving Olver with bits of skin and flesh missing from his face, thin streams of blood flowing down from the hundreds of gashes gleaming in the moonlight.

  It is only right. A king should die by the hands of another king, or in this case, the mouth of another king.

  Traznug, the king of the human-bats did not wear any crowns. Neither did he hold court in the shadows of the mighty oaks of the Endless Forest. However, he did command an army, and he did lead wars. As big as a giant and as grim as death, he stepped out of the trees, ready to feast on his prey. The red eyes shone like two beacons on a watchtower, and the teeth were bared like pikes against an invading army. He crawled on all fours, wings tucked to the sides, taking his time with Olver, making him fear death for which he patiently awaited.

  Make it quick, you sewer rat.

  But alas, death escaped him again as his eyes shot open and the dream vanished from the realm of reality. The forest melted before his eyes and the darkness of the cave took its place. Olver touched his face and ran his fingers over the enumerable scars left by the claws of Traznug.

  A parting gift from the king himself.

  Garen lay wheezing beside him, sprawled on the hard surface of the cave, his long hair falling freely over his face, liberated from the constraints of his ponytail. Elsa was also sleeping, and it was over her face that Olver’s eyes lingered for the longest time. It seemed she had grown even more beautiful since the last time he saw her, galloping away with the crippled Sanrick in her arms. Although she was unmistakably thinner, with hollow cheeks and eyes which had sunk deep in their sockets, but her body had not lost its curves. Unbidden, thoughts of their walks beneath the canopies of the trees of Eravia came rushing to his mind. They would meet deep within the woods of Eravia, leagues away from the encampment and spying eyes of guards and soldiers. She would come garbed in a roughspun cloak, her face hidden beneath a hood. But soon enough, she would unfasten the cloak, and stand before him in soft linen tights that clung to her body in a way that would entice and annoy Olver at the same time. A simple white undertunic would cover the soft mounds of her breasts, and Olver would stand and gawk at her surreal beauty, not as a king but a grown man with raging needs. But it was not only lust that drew Olver to Elsa. It would have been simple if it had only been lust. No woman had made Olver want to hold her in his arms, to lie with her under the twinkling stars, to sleep in her embrace, to live for her smile, and kill for her tears.

  Nothing good will come out of this, he had told himself one night, she is a Harduinian, and you are the king of Indius. Your forebears rode to battle against her ancestors. Your people still harbor hatred against her kingdom. Your own father made you vow not to marry her.

  Your father, who is dying.

  But every time he would lay his eyes upon her and hear her honey-coated voice whisper words of love in his ear, everything would seem insignificant, and his heart would drown the voice of his mind.

  Kimbr would probably kill me if she knew.

  Olver tried to find Sanrick, but there was no sign of him in the cave. He decided to venture outside the stuffy confines of the black basaltic walls and feel the sea breeze on his scar-ridden face. Out of habit, his hand fumbled in the dark for his breastplate and helm, but he remembered he had discarded it after his battle with Traznug. Donning only a cloak over his bare chest and fastening it with a silver brooch made in the form of a prancing horse, Olver tiptoed out of the cave and saw Sanrick sitting cross-legged with a rock in his hand. He appeared to be talking to someone, but there was no one around except for him and Sanrick.

  “How is that arm of yours?”

  Sanrick looked up at Olver, surprised and a little nervous.

  “You mean the stump that used to be my arm?” Olver saw Sanrick hide the rock in the pocket of his cloak.

  “It was a miracle that you survived. The gods must have something great planned for you,” Olver said with a faint smile.

  “Your god or mine?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not. I hope you are right. I will need a bit of help from the gods to face whatever they have planned for me. Cripples don’t usually have a long lifespan, especially not in places with monsters and poisonous worms,” said Sanrick, more to himself than Olver.

  “Yes, about that. I meant to have a talk with you about the worms and…Diyana. I asked Elsa about her death, but she still seems to be angry with me, so I couldn’t get a proper answer. All I know is that she choked to her death, after eating those worms. Can you tell me more?”

  Sanrick did not reply immediately but kept fidgeting with the brooch that fastened his cloak. Olver was about to ask again when he spoke,” We both ate the worms. It was the only way. We hadn’t eaten for days, and I would have probably eaten a man if I had the chance. Worms still seemed a pretty tame choice,” Sanrick’s voice cracked as he continued, “Nothing happened for a few days, but one night, while Diyana and I were talking, I felt something crawling up my throat, and I began coughing. It felt as if a hundred tiny blades were scraping against the walls of my throat, and I had never felt more pain, not even when I lost my arm. Diyana sug
gested I drink the water from the well, which worked and saved my life. But unfortunately, it did not work for Diyana.”

  “She drank the water?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain about it?”

  Silence lingered for a few heartbeats.

  “Yes.”

  The boy is nervous. Either he is lying, or the memory is too painful, or too fresh.

  “Why didn’t anything happen to Elsa?”

  “She never ate the worms. My sister is a remarkable woman, Olver. She is stronger than most men,” said Sanrick, with a hint of pride.

  And prettier than most girls.

  “Whatever be the case. Diyana was a true Maerynian warrior. She was more valiant than most of the knights I know. I had hoped we would become friends on this journey, and learn more about the fascinating kingdom of Maeryn, as I have never been to Silentgarde, but have heard a lot about the snowy peaks that surround it, its white pebbled streets and marble palaces with glass domes. I have seen illustrations of the Floating Hall in many books, and each time, its splendor would take the breath from my chest. But alas, that was not to be,” said Olver regretfully, “Before we had parted, I had given her my stone, the one with the Liongloom sigil on it. Do you know where it is?”

  “I do not know. We never spoke to her about the stone. In fact, we hardly spoke. It was only during the end that I had a proper conversation with her. And that conversation made me realize how she and I could have been good friends as well. But as you said, it was not to be.”

  Olver nodded, and the two kings sat in silence for a while.

  “How did you escape the worms? Did you not eat them?” asked Sanrick after some time.

  “No. We had almost starved to our deaths when we found the well. We never saw the worms. Perhaps if we would have seen them, then we would have eaten them,” Olver looked straight into Sanrick’s eyes as he said, “It’s strange, isn’t it? That the water from the well would work for some and not for others. Perhaps it never worked for other travelers who came this far. Perhaps the well was as far as they could reach.”

  “Or maybe it did work for a few, and some might have even reached the sea. And that is where they died. Wandering these caves for days on end, not finding anything, and then succumbing to death,” said Sanrick thoughtfully.

  “Death caused by what?”

  “Hunger, thirst, or another one of those monsters we found in the woods,” said Sanrick, “how did you make it out of that battle alive? Diyana said that the last time she saw you, you were surrounded by three human-bats, while soldiers died all around you.”

  “Not everyone died. Sir Marston, the Calypsian knight fought alongside me for hours. We could almost sense victory, as one by one, we stabbed and slashed at those red eyes, crippling those monsters and then finishing them with single blows. When we were down to just a handful, something caused the bats to flee. We thought it was our terror and us,” Olver chuckled, “but it was something else.”

  “What?”

  “Traznug. Their king. More than twice their size, and dreadful to look at. It charged at us, screeching in a voice that shook the trees and rocked the ground, and killed Sir Marston right before my eyes, while I could just stand and watch, “for a moment, Olver thought he was right there, back in the woods, surrounded by chopped up corpses on blood-soaked ground, and a chill crept up his spine, “he charged at me next and I fought and fought, until my body was battered and bloodied. He shattered shield after shield, as his claws found my soft skin with each strike, scratching me in a hundred places until I could take it no more. I dropped to my knees and was almost glad to finally die and be rid of the pain, when Garen dropped from a branch above, straddled the beasts’ head and stabbed his eyes. Traznug dropped to the ground, and so did I. However, he never opened his eyes again, but I did.”

  “Garen saved you?” Sanrick said, almost in disbelief, “the boy who wanted to kill you in a duel, the boy who ran away from the fight?”

  Olver smiled, “People change, Sanrick, and I knew he had a side to him that was soft, and I knew he would show it before the end.”

  “And you did not wonder why he changed?”

  “I was content that he did. I did not care to give it much thought.” Olver said dismissively.

  “It is not my place to advise you, for you are a true king, while I am just a farce in its name, but it would do you better if you began digging deep into people’s actions and find motives behind why they do what they do.”

  “I will think on it, young Sanrick. And I do not think you are a farce. You are not afraid to admit you have weaknesses. That makes you the most genuine king in the realm,” said Olver, “speaking of being genuine, as you said, I do need to be wary of people, and need to find their true motives. So, what is your sister’s motive? Why won’t she speak with me?”

  Sanrick cleared his throat and pulled his hood to shield his face from the wind that had suddenly picked up speed, “Why do you think I will tell you? Why do you think I even know?”

  “Because I do not need to dig deep for you, Sanrick. I think you have a good heart, and if I am wrong, then surely, the Vizarins are right in destroying our race.”

  Olver could not read Sanrick’s expression behind the hood of his cloak, but when he spoke, his voice was strained.

  “She trusted you, Olver. She wanted to see you as a king. But you threw all of that away. You gave the realm to Swolderhornns, the people she loathes the most, and my sister is very bad at forgiving.”

  “Then I am to assume that she never loved me. I am certain she didn’t want to make me king for the realm, or its future. And she definitely didn’t want to see me as a king because she loved me; otherwise, it wouldn’t have mattered. Then what does she want?” Olver finally asked the question that had been haunting him ever since they set out for the Endless Forest.

  Sanrick sat motionless for some time as if he was carefully choosing his next words, “It is all about motive again, isn’t it? I couldn’t tell you what my sister’s motives are even if I knew, for I would not be certain about them myself,” Sanrick turned his head to look at Olver as he continued, “but I will tell you this. A few days in the forest of Eravia, or a few words spoken with love are not enough to make Elsa Faerson fall in love with you. And if she said that, then she is lying. She loves herself more than anything else in the world, and I do not think even you can change that, King Olver.”

  Olver was not expecting these words to hurt him as much as they did. He was hoping she was just angry. That she was in a bout of rage that would pass with time, and he would be able to hold her again. He never thought she was lying; he did not want to.

  “I thank you for your honesty,” Olver said as he got up, “I think I will take a walk to the beach now. You better go inside and get some sleep. We still have a lot of caves to explore tomorrow.”

  Sanrick nodded, “I will, you take care, Olver.”

  Olver smiled. It was a long way down to the beach, which involved a lot of hanging down the side of the rocky cliff, and a lot of almost slipping and falling to death. Olver finally reached the bottom and felt the cool sand on the sole of his feet. He walked towards the water, where waves were crashing in a pool of white foam. The stars blanketed the sky, shining bright and big, almost twice their normal size.

  There is something magical about this place, thought Olver, every grain of sand, every chunk of rock seems to hold secrets. A land hidden away at the edge of the world. Unknown and unearthed. I wonder what lies beyond this sea. I wonder who dwells there. I wonder if it’s the gods themselves, or the magical beings Toren spoke of in his book.

  Olver’s eyes scanned the horizon, hoping to spot a ship with a hundred sails, as big as a castle, cruising the seas as fast as a swordfish, steered by beings with horned helms and golden eyes. However, he could only see blackness, a mystifying blackness that seemed to hide dark secrets behind its mysterious veil.

  Olver stood and stared for a long time, his he
art burdened with emotions and mind with questions. And time and time again, Elsa’s face would come floating before his eyes, and sometimes accompanied by a naked body, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

  I am becoming a slave to my desires. This is what father warned me about. But he warned me against women, he warned me against whores in brothels, he warned me against high born maids with ambitions, he never warned me about a goddess as beautiful as Miervana.

  “It is unwise to be alone at this time of the day,” Olver had not heard her approach him.

  “Who would I have asked to accompany me?” Olver asked, turning around and finding Elsa standing before him, her straight golden hair dancing in the wind, her tunic tied in a knot below her breasts.

  “Me?”

  “So that could reject me vehemently? I am better off dying,” said Olver, getting closer to Elsa. She did not move back, as Olver expected.

  “The brave Olver Liongloom, the slayer of bat-monsters, is afraid of getting rejected by a girl?”

  “Only of getting rejected by you.” Silence fell between the two, broken only by the sound of waves.

  “Why don’t you speak with me like you used to? What have I done?” I sound more like a desperate man with his cock out than a king with dignity.

  “You know what you did, Olver.”

  “I had to. You saw how the council was progressing. We would still be in Eravia at the moment, arguing amongst ourselves if I wouldn’t have offered the crown to Garen. I did it to save the realm,” Olver said aggressively, trying to conceal his desperation behind the mask of frustration.

  “Very well. You did it for the realm. But did you ever think what will happen if we happen to find this temple that promises rescue for the people of Aerdon? We have no clue about anything, Olver, we do not know if the gods want to save all the kingdoms, or just one. What if the salvation that the parchment spoke of was meant for only one of us? What if it was meant for the kingdom ruled by the king of Aerdon? What if Calypsos survives because of your stupidity, while we perish as the world ends. There is a very thin line between being righteous and being foolish. I was also thinking of the realm when I offered you marriage. We would have at least been able to save our two kingdoms. And two kingdoms are better than one. My plan was righteous as well, Olver, except it was fair as well. Where is the justice in giving one kingdom, which already is the wealthiest and the strongest, all the resources to wither this storm? While kingdoms like yours and mine are left vulnerable to whatever catastrophe awaits Aerdon when the hourglass empties itself.” Elsa’s eyes were wide, and her face flushed. She was only inches away from Olver, and he could feel the heat emanating from her body.