by K R Leikvoll
“I swore my allegiance to Lord Vince and his cause long ago,” I replied dismissively, as to not continue on the topic. Her face showed a clear mixture of disapproval and intrigue, though she did not push it further. “What is your name?”
“Yuelle. Yourself?”
“Lazarus.”
“Lazarus? A rather peculiar name for an Evyan, wouldn’t you say?”
“A peculiar name for anyone.”
The Zaarian capital took nearly a month to reach; a month filled with boredom, homesickness, and cravings for my Master. The closer we grew to the capital, the more the foliage began to gradually litter our path. It was surreal to see mauve-colored grass after so much time spent among only rocks. There were few trees, but they were a welcomed sight. Nature brought game, which meant fresh food to eat. It had been far too long since I had a proper meal, so I took it upon myself to hunt. It took more time with my fragile wrists to wield my bow, but I was patient and careful with each arrow I drew.
Uxe itself was a beautiful city. It was built between two massive mountains, shielding it from the elements. The castle stood taller than any other structure; it was placed on a small plateau as a pillar of white stone that cut into the air. Just beyond the walls of the city, a small village was my first sight of the Uxe natives.
Most of the property belonged to much needed farmers that worked on their fields near the river that separated the village from the main city. Beithirr basked under the starlight, being tended to by a shepherd. Each villager we passed looked at us intently, as if they were entirely unaware of outsiders. The children with short, stubby horns ran excitedly alongside our carriages without knowing what they held.
When we reached the gate, we were halted by guardians mounted on heavily armored beithirr. Each one of the vicious creatures flicked their tongues to inhale our strange, alien scent. They had jaws large enough to break a person in half, with multiple rows of sharp teeth that could rip flesh. Even their long talons were threatening; they had been equipped with blades just as Naxerella wore.
“What business brings you to Uxe, Ambassador?” one of the guardians asked James. He rummaged in his pockets for moment before brandishing a worn scroll. Without any words, he passed it to the mounted warrior. After several moments of reading the scroll, and tentative stares to his partner, he rolled it back up and returned it to James. “Very well. Leave the carriages for inspection. We will send for a guard to escort you to the castle.”
As I went to follow him, the giant lizards blocked my path. The guardians looked rather displeased at my presence. I did not blame them for their caution, they had every right. I was an Evyan loyal to Duskwraith. To them, I likely appeared as the Evyans siding with Duskwraith in the impending conflict. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
James had to convince the guardians of my rank for me to be allowed to pass. Though they let me go, my title as Warden was probably one they feared. Not because of James, but because of the implications. There was only a Warden of Duskwraith during times of crisis. What would that mean for their valley kingdom?
“You can be present during the negotiations, but this is my job. Do your best to not say anything foolish,” James told me as we crossed through the giant gate.
My first sight of the city made me gasp in awe at its beauty. Every building consisted of an even mixture of dark stone and emberila wood from the border between Zaar and Femora. Emberila was a scorched wood – one that was soft and easily malleable. The windows were all panels of orange and yellow, casting sunshine colors on the ancient cobblestone roads. The streets were packed with people, as the city was far overpopulated. Each of them wore their cultural garb: the thick fur of chorta with headdresses and jewelry crafted from their bones. It was intelligent of them – my clothing was far too thin for how frigid the air was. Despite the plants blooming and the sudden abundance of wildlife, it felt as though we were in the dead of winter, not the early part of summer.
I had to stay directly behind James’ tall form to avoid being swallowed by the crowds. Though the terrain was unfavorable for life in most of the Empire of Zaar, there was a lack of poor in the streets. Even those that may have been migrants or peasants still owned durable clothing and weapons. The rite of passage into adulthood in Zaarian culture revolved around the hunt of chorta. Their god, the blood Titan Ortos, was represented with a horned head of the ram creatures and the body of a Zaarian warrior. In order to satisfy the blood pact with their god, they had to bring down one of the beasts with their own skill. The furs and leathers harvested from such a brute could clothe several people. Their muscles were packed with nutrition and preserved for the winter. The Zaarians went as far as to use the bones as well, carving them into weapons, jewelry, trinkets and all other manner of everyday objects.
We were barraged on either side by Zaarian traders as we pushed our way through the bazaar. I made the mental decision to return to look at their wares once I was settled. I had never seen such a place in my entire life, and I desired to learn more about the culture I was bound to decimate. The aroma of cooking meat was enough to make me want to rest in the local tavern, but I fought my desire to tug James along for a meal.
As we approached a wide stone bridge, I could not help shivering and trembling from the chill. Two waterfalls cascaded on either side from the mountain above. With a strong breeze, the brackish water was whipped into my face and drenched my clothing. It felt as though I was lashed by a solid object with how much it stung my skin. By the time we reached the front of the giant, white castle carved from stone, I was in a desperate need of fresh clothes.
The castle would have been half the size if it was not combined with the Empire’s library. It was twice the size of any other castle known, besides possibly the castle that lie in the Capitol of Naadea. The stairs were never ending; polished and maintained carved from the mountain itself. A three-story statue of Ortos sat in a break of the stairs, crowded by worshippers paying respects. The god was represented wearing chorta skins, a bone headdress and spears in either hand. As an Evyan, I have always found Ortos to be off putting and archaic; too focused on the hunt and hierarchy. To see their massive statues and symbolism merely made me roll my eyes.
The giant doors of the castle were opened for us, allowing us access to a breezeway that led the way to the Emperor’s side of the massive structure. James looked over his shoulder and smiled at my clear intrigue. The courtyard we crossed was filled with shadowblooms, a plant I believed only the Dryads capable of cultivating. The sight of the flower my Master had given to me so long ago caused torment to fill my being, no matter how beautiful they were. I yearned for his touch, unable to stop myself from imagining our reunion.
We followed the guard through the maze of light hallways, following the path of jade colored stones that decorated the floors in various patterns. Countless well-dressed servants and maids were roaming the palace, going about their duties. Each one was somewhat caught off guard by our appearance – a Himmelish man and an Evyan woman representing Duskwraith.
I was nearly out of breath by the time we finally reached the throne room. It was beautifully crafted and ancient; one of the first buildings erected over nine thousand years ago for the first Zaarian Emperor. The large open windows provided a clear view to the front gate, the stars and beyond. The sides were lined with trophies of various Zaarian animals that the Emperor or former Emperors had hunted. The throne itself was covered in furs, both of game and of Dryads, whom the Zaarians fought many wars against.
The Emperor himself was far more elderly than I would have expected. He was in good health, but his waist length hair was light silver. His beard could have competed in length. It was braided and peppery colored, with streaks of white. The robes he wore were not Zaarian, rather they were Femoran. Charcoal black with adorning feathers. Their current brutality to the phoenix people gave me the impression that his clothing was from the most recent attack on their borders, not legitimately bought. I cared not for
the matters between Zaar and Femora, but I knew my Master would.
“Your majesty, I present Lord Ambassador James and Warden Lyon from Duskwraith,” the guard told the Emperor with a curt bow.
The Emperor waved his hands at his kingsguard and servants, motioning for them to leave us. The only person that did not move was a young Zaarian man in equally as luxurious Femoran clothing as the Emperor. His hair was dark, and his face resembled the elderly Emperor enough for one to conclude it was his son.
“I was not expecting an Ambassador from Duskwraith. Has your precious Lord decided that he is beyond sending notices?” the Emperor asked, piercing us both with his gleaming yellow eyes. I opened my mouth to defend Vince and his honor, but James’ words from earlier kept me silent.
“Forgive me, as the Ambassador, I should have seen to having a messenger prepare you for our arrival, but the ride is long and treacherous. We sought to have your people returned to you before they starved to death,” James replied curtly, not backing down to the Emperor’s words.
The Emperor scowled and sighed, standing to pour himself a goblet of wine. His son watched us both interestedly, curious about our presence. I doubted the young heir saw many outsiders beyond the few that came through the city. He was particularly interested in my long, pointed ears. They were peculiar for that far north; Femorans, Zaarians and Dryads alike had short, pointed ears. A clear indication to why Evyans were the most successful military force for many centuries. We could hear the slightest noise, something our allies lacked.
“So what business does Duskwraith want with us now? A trade embargo? Snide words?” he snapped at James.
“Conditions of peace and war,” he replied evenly, holding out his worn scroll to the Emperor. He snatched it out of his grasp and pulled it open with such force, the top ripped. His disrespect was something that infuriated me. We had traveled a great distance only to be treated like unwelcome visitors. The Zaarians were the ones starting war with both Femora and Evya. How could they treat their only neutral neighbor with disdain?
“So be it,” the Emperor said dryly after he finished reading. “We will convene tomorrow to discuss your Lord’s conditions. Until then, enjoy Uxe’s hospitality. I doubt you will see the likes of this city again.”
James and I tentatively allowed a squire to escort us away, both unsure of his words. To our ears, it came across that there would be no peace if my Master dictated the terms. Such was the attitude of the proud Zaarians.
We were taken to a spacious bedroom, though to my dismay we were once again to share a dwelling. Everything was in shades of khaki and browns, coating every surface with furs. James busied himself writing a note back to Vince that he had arrived to be given to a message runner. I took the time to wash and change into a long, rose and lilac colored gown. It was far beyond my colors, style or preference, but it was the only article of clothing I had been given.
With James’ blessing and reminder to be on my best behavior, I departed to explore the city, leaving my weapons behind. I took only coin and made my way quickly back to the bazaar. Though I was surrounded entirely by bustling people, I felt the relief of solitude; only my thoughts existed as I wandered the main streets.
I spent time at the market stalls running my fingertips along gemmed trinkets, jewelry, pottery and gowns. Everything the Zaarians hand crafted was exquisite – something I had not expected from how brutish they were stereotyped my entire life. Even as the palace’s blacksmith that had worked with all manners of materials, I was taken aback by the quality of their weapons. Each one was individually made with precision and detail I thought only the Evyans capable of.
I purchased a dark navy gown that had somehow been trafficked in from Faera. It was likely taken and traded as loot from the wars on the northern Evyan borders, but I cared not for the plights of my old homeland. I still desired the old world I had departed from, but not enough to smother my love for my Master. The colors of the dress would bring out the silver of my eye. I considered it to be one of my better features, even though I found myself to appear odd. I would keep it unused and unworn until we neared the borders of the Everglade. I sought to look presentable and beautiful for Vince after such a long absence.
Beyond the gown, I purchased gemstone-set jewelry in the shade of red – Vincent’s favorite color. I even made the foolish attempt to buy a gift for him: a thick, golden ring with a large ruby in the center. It reminded me of his eyes, so much so I hardly paid attention to where I was walking as I stared down at it.
Somehow, I ended up a few miles deep into the city. The bazaar came to an end and the houses of the city dwellers was all there was in every direction. There were small groups of people chatting outside, but most had already wandered home or had left for supper at the local taverns. The light of Asinea and Azra was fading, painting a picture of oranges, blues and reds across the sky. It was almost enough to distract me from all the questioning stares I was getting.
In truth, all I could think of beyond my Master and wanting to return home was that it was likely I would be back to Uxe with an army in tow. The people appeared very calm, cultured and intelligent – not at all what I had been taught of them. Did innocent citizens deserve to fall for the lack of diplomacy between our leaders?
Did anyone deserve to fall at all?
By the time I returned back to my room, James was anxiously waiting for me. He was in mid-pace before he rushed toward me to make sure I was unscathed and unfollowed. I was somewhat confused at his concern, for I had felt entirely safe in the city.
“Dusk is not the time for you to be out wandering. As diplomats, we only maintain our freedom as long as negotiations play out in our favor. They could have cornered you on the streets and held you as leverage against us,” James scolded as I set my things down.
“They are not as dangerous as you think,” I replied calmly. Even though his emotions were only that of anxiety for my well-being, his words annoyed me. As Warden, I felt perfectly capable of walking around on my own. Foolish of me then, for I lacked the demonic power that truly has made me strong, but I was wearing my title with pride and seriousness.
“Or perhaps they are not as innocent as you think. They are incredibly loyal people. They would not hesitate for a single moment if they were ordered to apprehend you,” James said, trying to get his point across. “I searched the bazaar far and wide. If you were going to wander and be reckless, you could at least let me know where you are off to.”
All his words did was frustrate me. I was sick of feeling as if I had no free will.
I angrily threw myself into the giant bed and closed my eyes as tightly as I could. I did not wish to argue with James, but I couldn't help but feel like my night was ruined. Between missing my Master, realizing I may have to kill the Uxe-dwelling Zaarians, and James’ discipline, I wanted to pound my head in frustration.
With a sigh, he walked around the room to extinguish the candles and torches. I had not witnessed him sleep once since I had known him, so one could imagine my utter confusion when he laid beside me. I let out a noise of disgruntlement when his arms wound around my form and pulled me in close.
“You are a member of my coven, get used to me. I’m not going anywhere,” he said as I tried to fight his arms. “I’m sorry for making you feel insubordinate, but you are on your trial. Besides, so far, I believe you have done everything you need to. Master Vince will be pleased to hear of your success.”
His words were enough to stop my struggling. I ceased and relaxed, allowing myself to go partially limp in his arms. The truth was, I did not mind his closeness, nor did I mind the comfort of his embrace – something odd as I hated touching anyone beyond my Master. In actuality, I despised being bogged down by rules, whether or not I realized it at the time.
Any person that told me what to do was at the mercy of my hatred.
The next morning, James woke me very early, before the shades of dawn had filled the sky. I groggily allowed him to spend time braiding
my hair and helping tie me into a gown he felt was appropriate. I wore the red jewels I had purchased the day previously with the intention of showing that I was not a misanthropist to the Zaarian city I was visiting. James tidied himself up, though he chose to wear his blackened, dragon scale armor with his Duskwraith sigil displayed proudly. Vince may have been the ruler of Duskwraith, but James had been a loyal ambassador since their first initial takeover.
After being forced to eat breakfast – something I never ate, as I hardly consumed more than a single meal a day – we followed the kingsguard to the council room. The Emperor appeared crisp and sharp for how early it was. Even his son that accompanied him was fresh and awake. They were drinking a morning ale and going over scripts with a chieftain when we arrived. I expected all of our company to leave except for the Emperor, but James was not fazed by the populace in the vaulted room.
We sat at the long table, opposite side of the Zaarian royalty. James prepared a fresh scroll and ink to take down the notes of the meeting. I merely watched out the window as Azra began to lighten. Though I was interested in the aspects of diplomacy, I longed to be alone, outside wandering once more.
It took the chieftain and the Emperor nearly an entire hour of speaking in their rough sounding tongue before they felt the desire to acknowledge our presence. A servant brought us both wine; something I left untouched as I did not desire to drink in the early hours of the day. James, on the other hand, drank both as if it were water.
“I have no time to trifle, nor play games. Speak of your Lord’s conditions before I lose my patience,” the Emperor finally snapped at us. James returned his aggression with a calm, collected smile.
“Very well. Naturally, you can understand why we feel the need for such terms. You have allowed your forces to take land from Femora’s borders. Diam’s rebellion has caused the death of many Evyans dwelling on the Kaedan side of their territory. We have nothing beyond your word that you will not start a siege on us as well. Duskwraith and Lord Vince’s regime will no longer sit idly by as you attack our allies.”
