Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  I’m used to people not being happy with me, but what did I do to Lissette?

  And, as I asked myself the question, I answered it. I put her on the throne and made her rule. I left when I got what I wanted. I left her with a kingdom on her hands and nowhere to wash. I gave her all the headaches, problems, and distractions of the throne when I couldn’t be bothered to do it.

  Yes, I had reasons, but Lissette was the one who had to cope with the result, not me. It’s like saying I had reasons for dumping the toxic chemicals into the river—the plant would have blown up if I hadn’t. But the river is still full of toxic chemicals. No matter how it went down, someone was going to suffer.

  Maybe I should have stayed. If I’d died defending the throne and preserving the kingdom, then she wouldn’t hate me for abandoning her. If she hates me. She might be merely angry. I’m afraid to ask.

  So… what do I do?

  What can I do?

  No, better question: Is there anything to be done?

  I’ve had hints Lissette misses me, or misses the idea of me. How, why, in what way? I don’t know. Does she miss having a king to lean on? A father to help deal with the children? A pet monster to feed traitors to? All of the above? She doesn’t seem to want to talk to me, so how do I know anything for sure?

  My first impulse is to fix this. There are two problems with the idea. First, I’m not sure it’s fixable. I certainly have no idea how to go about it. Bring her flowers? Jewelry? Chocolate? Court her as though we were strangers, rather than married acquaintances? Or kidnap the Queen, relocate her to somewhere beyond the reach of the men and/or gods, and let her have a quiet life? I have no idea. I don’t even know what she wants. Maybe she doesn’t, either.

  Second, even if it is fixable, is fixing it—interfering—something I ought to do? I mean, assume I repair our relationship, wind up in her good graces, establish a positive rapport, and basically get welcomed as part of the family. Then what? Vanish to Apocalyptica again? Or stay and encourage internal strife as the Demon King, as well as the only extant nightlord in the world?

  Here’s a neat question. Would it hurt her less if I didn’t interfere? Yes, it hurts now, whatever this screwed-up relationship is, but building a better one might wind up hurting more. If we have a wound that’s scarred over, do we open it up again to sew it properly and accept the risks it entails?

  I pounded the back of my head against the stone wall for a while, mostly because I’m a fool.

  The door opened slowly, almost tentatively. If a door could open with caution, this one opened with trepidation. A head poked around, looking into darkness of the sitting room. I thought it bore a striking resemblance to a certain brown-haired, blue-eyed prince of the realm, allowing for eight years since last I saw him. How old was he now? Sixteen?

  “Shouldn’t you have a bodyguard?” I asked. He jumped as if a mousetrap snapped shut on his toes. I flicked a finger and the various lamps around the room ignited, flickered, steadied.

  “Shouldn’t you have a chair?” he countered.

  “These look flimsy to me. I’d probably break them. So, what about your bodyguards?”

  “There are guards in and around the royal chambers,” he answered. “I don’t have one follow me around.”

  I nodded, then let my head tilt back slightly, resting it against the wall.

  “Do you want to be alone?”

  “No, but since when has that stopped me?”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Should I stay or should I go?”

  “And there’s the clash.”

  “I don’t recall you speaking in riddles quite so much.”

  “Just pop culture references no one ever gets. Ignore it.”

  He came into the room more fully and shut the door. He selected a fancy-looking, skinny-legged, velvet-padded chair. It held him just fine.

  “You saw Mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did it go?”

  “It was… awkward. I got the feeling she’s mad at me for something and I’m not sure if I have any business even wanting to apologize.”

  “She’s under great strain already, and you show up.”

  “I made it worse with lousy timing?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “You’re trying to take care of your mother, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve come a long way from the self-centered brat I spanked,” I admitted.

  “He needed a good spanking.”

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  “He also needed a father.”

  I raised my head and looked at him. He stared back, expression open, head slightly cocked as though wondering what I would say. Or daring me to say anything.

  “I’ve had one awkward conversation already, tonight. Let’s not make it two.”

  “As you wish.”

  “What’s Lissette so tense about, anyway? You said she was stressed.”

  “War.”

  “That’ll do it. Could you elaborate slightly?”

  “War with the kingdoms of Ynar and Praeteyn.”

  “First I’ve heard of it.”

  “She’s only considering it. I want your opinion.”

  I raised my knees and leaned forward, resting my forearms against them—a feat possible in Diogenes’ high-tech armor. I’m not sure it’s comfortable—or even possible—in the standard steel sort. Liam watched me earnestly, even eagerly.

  “You’re looking forward to a war, aren’t you?”

  “I am not,” he denied. I said nothing, simply stared at him, unblinking, while he shifted uncomfortably. I have a killer Penetrating Stare. I’m pretty good with the Intimidating Gaze, too. I’ve absolutely mastered the Blank Look, mostly due to natural talent. Liam eventually added, “I don’t want a war, but if it comes… yes, I want to see it.”

  My first impulse was to tell him no, he didn’t want to see it. It was the wrong thing to say, though. He did want to see it. I think many people who haven’t seen a war want to. It’s not right to tell them they don’t. What they don’t want—and don’t know—is they don’t want to have seen it. I know, because I’ve seen bits and pieces of several. I watched from a hilltop as a Roman legion met Picts. I tended some of the wounded at a Gettysburg. I even managed to screw up and go down the hill to drag French knights out of the mud at Agincourt. And I know I don’t want to see another war. I don’t even want to have seen the ones I’ve been to.

  Here in Karvalen, I’ve seen a small war. More like a few major engagements in a larger campaign, I suppose. Even so, the dead littered the battlefield like corn after a hailstorm. Wounded screamed their agony or cried in despair—those with the strength left. Some lay in pools of their own juices and gasped in short, quick breaths, fearing the last one would come all too soon. The mud was dirt and blood, the smell of guts and feces was thick in the sunshine, and birds pecked at sightless eyes.

  That was victory.

  I stared at my son and wondered how I could explain it. How could I make his sixteen-year-old mind comprehend? Words are noisy flappings of flesh and air. Even to penetrate the magical protections upon him and give him, directly, the knowledge and experience… it’s not being there. It’s remembering. It’s a memory of something someone else remembered.

  What do I say? Dear God, if You’re up there, what do I say?

  “I don’t think you’ll enjoy it,” I offered, “but I suppose you have to see for yourself.”

  “I will.”

  “When does the war start, anyway?”

  “I’m not sure it will,” he admitted. “Mom’s still considering it.”

  “Why does she think war might be a good idea?”

  “Haven’t you heard? No, I suppose not.”

  “Heard what? Why not?”

  “You made it clear you weren’t to be called upon unless there was some internal matter, some rebel or the like, she couldn’t handle. Mom already dealt with the coastal campaign
by herself, without you. Why should she ask what you think of a war with Ynar and Praeteyn?”

  I leaned back against the wall and thumped my head on it a few more times.

  When I left, I hadn’t meant to leave the impression I was absolutely unavailable for anything but dire emergencies. If Lissette had phoned up Beltar—who would then phone up my altar ego, and he would shout for me—I would have shown up. I didn’t mean she could only summon me as a last resort. I meant I was available, on call, whenever she needed me. Liam’s birthday, Lissette’s birthday, Coronation Day, rebel cities on the coast, eyeballing the souls of possible traitors, whatever.

  Oh, damn. I make unsolicited appearances for Tymara’s birthday, but I don’t drop in for Liam’s or Lissette’s. I stay out of Carrillon unless invited, and Lissette doesn’t invite me. How does that look to her? Is she of the opinion I regard the city of Karvalen as my personal property and Carrillon as hers? Or does she think I’m not interested in the royal family?

  There was a time when I entertained the notion this marriage of convenience might work out as a marriage. Lissette seemed willing to give it a solid try, too. I think she was hoping to have a king who would permit his queen to be… well, anything more than the typical “bird in a gilded cage” sort of thing. Lissette was always a more martial sort of woman—a privilege few women have. Now she’s trapped on a fancy chair and abandoned by the Demon King, also known as her deadbeat husband.

  Does she still think of me as anything else?

  Almost as bad is the absentee father problem. The teenager in front of me was a prince of the realm and eager to see a war. One good spanking when he was a child obviously didn’t cure him of his ego and pretensions. Judging by the lights in his youthful spirit, he grew up okay, I guess, but I suspect that spanking inspired his mother, as well. I don’t know if I’d buy a used car from him. If it came down to serious cases, would I trust him to do the right thing? Maybe.

  In the infinite cosmos, is there a world like Karvalen where I stayed? I doubt it. There seems to be only one of each of the magic-heavy worlds, but billions of versions of Earth. Why? Maybe just to annoy me. Maybe someone’s trying to tell me something. Or maybe I’m not the center of the universe and it doesn’t care what I do.

  “I suppose that’s a fair question,” I said, eventually, head still resting against the wall. “May I inquire as to her reasons for wanting to go to war with Ynar and Praeteyn? Or are you included in her war councils?”

  “I am,” he replied, stiffly.

  “Educational?”

  “Yes.”

  “I approve. Go on, then.”

  “Perhaps I should not discuss it with you.”

  I lifted my head and glared at him.

  “That’s an interesting thought,” I observed. “Before you make up your mind on it, maybe we should answer some other questions, first.”

  “Such as?”

  “Who am I? Give at least three answers.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll give you one for free. Who am I? I’m the Demon King of Karvalen, unquestioned ruler of the kingdom. Now you name three more.”

  He pursed his lips as he chewed over the idea.

  “I see what you mean.”

  “You’re not answering. Three things. Go.”

  “You are the Wall of Blades. Also the… the Lord of Shadow.”

  “Two. One more.”

  “The husband of the Queen.”

  “Already did that one,” I pointed out. “King. Queen. Try again. Maybe there’s another relation in the palace you might mention.”

  “Or I might not,” he snapped. “Instead, I could mention you are also known as the Master of Darkness beneath the Eastrange.”

  “That’ll do. So, when I, the King of Karvalen, ask what you know of the war councils for the possible upcoming conflict with Ynar and Praeteyn, how do you answer, Prince of Karvalen?”

  “I answer by saying I know very little, tend to sleep through the meetings because my advice is not sought, and suggest you should consult with the Queen and her councilors, my King.”

  “Very diplomatic of you,” I nodded. “I am impressed. A bit contrary, a bit obstinate, but cleverly phrased and plausible. I’ll let it pass.”

  “You are so very generous,” he replied. My sarcasm detector went off, but it was only a small blip.

  “Well, since you don’t need or want me to handle anything for you, I’ll be on my way. Please convey my love to your mother. Also be sure to let her know you sent me on my way, secure in the knowledge she has nothing at all that warrants my attention.”

  “I never said that.”

  “No? I thought you implied it pretty heavily. My intention was not to isolate myself from the kingdom permanently, merely to be at a comfortable distance so Lissette could rule it unhindered. As you’ve pointed out, she’s never needed me for anything, so I must not be needed at all.” I pushed myself to my feet. “It’s been quite some time since I was summoned, so I came on my own motion to see if there was anything I could do. You tell me I’m not needed, so I’ll be moving on. Don’t forget my message to Her Majesty.”

  “Wait!”

  “For what?”

  “She’ll want to hear it from you.”

  “Oh, but you’re the one making the decisions here. You tell me there’s some sort of war preparations, but you don’t know anything—they’re not interesting. Since the Crown Prince doesn’t find them interesting, they must not be important. Lissette didn’t bring up anything when we met earlier, so I guess there’s no reason for me to stay. Unless you have something you want from your dear old Demon King?”

  Liam doesn’t like me. I’m not encouraging him to. I’ve never been a father to him, just a stranger in black with firm views on how a king should behave. Since he seems stuck with the job, I hope he’s up to it when the time comes.

  I watched him sit there and consider. He’s quite a fast thinker, based on how his spirit dances when he’s under pressure. He regarded me appraisingly for several seconds.

  “Perhaps,” he began, choosing his words with care, “you might discuss with the Queen her reasons for considering a war. She certainly knows more about it than I. Indeed, if I were present, perhaps I might understand it more fully, myself.”

  “Nice save,” I admitted. “All right. Have Beltar or Amber send for me at her convenience.”

  “Her convenience?”

  “Yes. She’s the Queen. You can also request my presence, if you like, but do I need to tell you to have an excellent reason?”

  “No, I don’t think you do.”

  “Wonderful. Now, where can I find Torvil, Kammen, or Seldar?”

  “Seldar will be in his chambers for the night. I imagine Torvil will be in his office, organizing the rotation for the guards. Kammen is probably guarding the Queen with the remaining twin.”

  “Remaining twin?” I echoed.

  “Malana or Malena. One of them,” he shrugged. “One of them died stopping an assassin. I forget which.”

  “When did this happen?” I snapped. Liam recoiled, scooting his chair back, eyes and mouth going round and wide. I got a grip on myself and glanced behind me. Yes, my shadow was misbehaving. I also noticed my fangs and fingernails were out. I retracted everything and calmed my shadow.

  “Sorry,” I told him. “I was startled. When did Malana or Malena die?”

  “Six years ago?” he said/guessed. “It was during the time when Mom was consolidating her position and bringing the western cities into the kingdom.”

  “Why does this sort of thing happen when I’m not around?”

  “Because you are not the pivot of the world, about which all must revolve?”

  I considered Liam. He said it in a smartass tone, but he also had a point. I’m not sure he realized how right he was, nor how much I needed to be reminded of the fact.

  “Did they find out who did it?” I asked.

  “Yes. The would-be assassin was kil
led in his attempt on Mother’s life. The Prince of Calisheyn, on the western coast, was the employer.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She laid siege to the city and blockaded it. Anyone who wanted to was allowed to leave on foot, bearing only what possessions they could carry. After several months, Calisheyn was practically abandoned. She ordered it taken, its wealth confiscated, and its nobles beheaded. By royal decree, their skulls still adorn the doorway in the Calisheyn palace leading to the private chambers of the new ruling family.”

  I always liked Lissette. At times like this, I remember more reasons why. I wish I’d known about Malana or Malena, though. I liked them, too.

  “All right. Thank you for telling me. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “You have Our leave to depart.”

  “You’re the Prince,” I corrected. “I say that. Your mother can say that. You don’t use the royal ‘We’ until you’re promoted. If you’re promoted.”

  “I will bear it in mind, Your Majesty.”

  I marched off boldly enough, but, once safely out of sight, I snagged the nearest flunky and had him guide me to Seldar’s chambers. The Palace isn’t a maze, exactly, but it’s not laid out well and nothing is labeled. In the mountain, I know where I am almost instinctively. Here, it’s like being in a strange city without a map, where all the signs are in an unknown language. It’s not Gormenghast, but it is a big, sprawling place.

  Seldar was still awake. He answered the knocking with permission to enter, so I dismissed the flunky and entered. Seldar smiled as I came in and rose to greet me.

  “I heard you were in the Palace,” he stated, bowing, “and I hoped you might find it in your heart to visit.”

  “Daddy!” came the cry from another room. Moments later, a young girl, perhaps six, followed it. She paused at the doorway, cocked her head at me, then turned to Seldar.

  “What is it, munchkin?” The word he used was alicanta, literally meaning “small piece,” as in the expression, “A chip off the old block.” I think “munchkin” conveys the affectionate flavor somewhat better, though.