North & South

by K T Munson

  Chapter 12

  Lancel Storm

  He spent days and days waiting and wondering if something would ruin their plans; only to have the moment come at last. Eliron walked beside him, dressed in his finest as befit his rank. King Rohan had put off the actual negotiations as he mourned his son. Eliron had been patient but Lancel had only worried about the outcome. King Rohan was likely to resent them for Prince Mohit’s death and his terms might not be so forgiving.

  Lancel glanced at his king, wondering if he was as worried as he was. Yet he was calm and collected and facing forward without hesitation. That was very much the stance of his king; when he made a decision he followed it through, to the end. They had reached the edge of their camp and were about to enter the tent between their camp and King Rohan’s.

  “My King,” Lancel said, “There is still time to reconsider. Once you commit yourself to this woman you are honor bound to keep your word.”

  “I have no intention of dishonoring myself,” Eliron replied.

  “I only mean that we can find another way if you wish it,” Lancel responded, giving Eliron a chance to consider. “You have never seen nor met this woman.”

  “King Rohan’s only daughter is famed to be beautiful and is beloved of her people,” Eliron informed him. “More than that this war will end, and our children will have as much Rohan blood as Highlander. Peace could mean the lowering of our walls and that would benefit everyone.”

  “I see you have considered the matter entirely,” he conceded. His king was certain.

  “Relentlessly,” Eliron admitted as they came to the Roanoak tent and were admitted inside.

  “King Eliron Highlander, first of his name, Water King,” the announcer said, “and his advisor Commander Lancel Storm.”

  Within, two individuals sat among a sea of pillows and pillowed couches, each sat in a fine cushioned chair at the center of the room. The first was clearly King Rohan dressed in all his finery. Lancel had only seen him once, years ago when they had been assaulting one of the six walls. Yet he had not seemed so aged, back then, as he did now.

  The woman was pouring water into cups that had lemon in the bottom. She was fully veiled and covered in a gown of deep purple. He watched her warily for she had the grace of a fine woman and the form of a beautiful one.

  “I hope your journey was without incident,” Eliron said taking a seat across from King Rohan.

  “It was uneventful,” Rodrick said but Lancel saw him glance towards the woman.

  She wore a long gown that was of a sheer material that covered satin. The top of the gown was covered in beaded patterns that matched at the bottom. It was held tight to her waist by a sash that crossed here and there before being thrown over one shoulder. She wore fine jewels at her throat and at her ears. Yet he could not see her face beneath the veil, nor make out who she could be. As Lancel came to stand just behind Eliron, watching over him, he felt out of place. Roanoak was a wealthy country; while Vargos was rich, it could not claim the finery that came with vast wealth. Eliron and Lancel wore their finest tunics and pants. They seemed pale attempts compared to King Rohan’s and his mystery woman’s, dress.

  “I am glad of it,” Eliron said as the woman carried a tray over and offered them each a glass.

  Closer, Lancel could just make out her features and he found them quite pleasing. He was never one to admire beauty for himself. Not since Karia, his wife, had perished. When he grabbed the glass from her he found himself shaking, and his hands were sweating. Eliron hardly gave her a moment’s glance. Though Lancel did not blame him, his King’s entire focus was on King Rohan, as it needed to be to make sure the negotiations went smoothly.

  “Long ago our two nations were one,” the elderly king steepled his hands as he spoke. Did you know this?”

  Eliron appeared nostalgic for a moment. “Yes. We were once a single great nation of the south, the Providence of Evermore.”

  “You know your history. Good,” King Rohan nodded approvingly. “You then know a soldier who did not want to go to war and a king that would not relent is what fractured the south. The brothers that broke apart a nation—Vargosian’s kept their Water King and Roanoak kept the Water Dancers; forever tied in history and hatred.”

  “The first king of Roanoak, King Roan, was a Water Dancer. All his men went with him and the art was forgotten in Vargos,” Eliron admitted.

  King Rohan nodded, leaning back in his seat as he focused on the woman. “We are amiable to peace but hesitate to grant your request,” King Rohan began turning his attention back to them. “Unrestricted access to the Maiden’s Harbor will greatly impact our own trade. We are willing to grant limited access in regards to specific goods.”

  “What goods are you referring to?” Eliron asked leaning forward in interest.

  “Goods that Roanoak does not produce in large enough quantities to trade in. I would grant you wool and your strange wine,” King Rohan said his right elbow rested on the curl of the chair. “These we would guarantee year-round, year after year. Other goods would be permitted based on our own production. I will not have my people competing on silk; our silk caterpillars produce enough for the world over, nor will I permit you to sell dyes down The Knife.”

  “These terms are not unreasonable,” Eliron said carefully and Lancel tried to keep his face straight, “I would ask that we meet yearly to discuss terms for the following year. It will be a good excuse to renew our peace treaty and for you to visit your daughter.”

  King Rohan’s eyebrows shot up. “I would not object to these terms.”

  “Do you have any other items to discuss?”

  “I do,” the woman said as she took the seat beside the King.

  Eliron looked at her slightly amused as King Rohan indicated towards the woman and said, “Let me introduce my only daughter, Princess Ashira Rohan.”

  Eliron rose and bowed to her, Lancel was so surprised he hardly managed the same as Eliron said, “I had hoped to meet you before our marriage.”

  “And I you,” she responded almost coldly, “I have terms that shall be met before this marriage contract is complete.”

  Eliron didn’t sit but asked almost amused, “What terms are those, Fair Lady?”

  She hardly batted an eye at his compliment, this woman was not one to be trifled with, before she continued, “The first is that any terms you come to about the Maiden’s Harbor will be considered a wedding gift for the first year. Are you accepting of this term?”

  Eliron consider her before saying, “What is the other term?”

  She glanced up at him but faced him unfazed. “The second is a temple will be constructed within your palace where I and my handmaidens can practice our faith freely without threat of conversion. Are you amiable to these terms?”

  Lancel saw her strength and her careful attempt to conceal her grief. King Rohan may not blame them for Prince Mohit’s death, but she was not so forgiving. Eliron sat back down and leaned against the couch’s curled armrest. Lancel could see instantly he was intrigued by this woman who spoke to him as an equal.

  “Your terms are amiable.” Eliron agreed without argument before he stood, “King Rohan, have the terms drafted and delivered to me on the morrow. Once they are complete and we are in agreement I shall bind myself to your daughter in tangent with signing of the trade agreement. If Princess Ashira is amiable to these terms we shall be wed within the month.”

  “I am,” she said with a nod of her head.

  “I wish you a good evening,” Eliron said before turning and leaving the tent with Lancel on his heel.

  Once they were outside of the range of hearing Lancel asked, “Why did you agree to her terms so readily?”

  “King Rohan would be a fool if he didn’t put restrictions on my request,” Eliron said, “and I find her remarkable. I will admit I hardly paid her any mind until she spoke. These people are strange with their veils and cloaks made of silk. Their women are as secondary as our women, but not this prince
ss. She spoke to me as though my equal. I respect her courage to face me with her requests, herself, and not hide behind her father.”

  “She is used to her way of life,” Lancel pointed out, “and this temple will allow her to continue in her ways.”

  “If the price of peace and access to a harbor running along The Knife is a temple,” Eliron said as they glanced back at the tent and the wall behind it. “I would say it was a cheap price to pay.”

  Chapter 13

  Otto Deckard

  His fingers worked furiously on the model sized version of his invention. Papers with figures and drawings littered the ground around him. He ignored them all as he worked the twine around the wings. He had spent days working on it, only leaving to give his lectures and return. His arms were covered in charcoal and his face had smudges as well.

  Evanora would be returning soon and then he would have his little assistant again. His daughter may be young, but she was born from one of the most brilliant women he knew. Sometimes he would wonder if Edna was this way as a child. The thought both saddened him and made him happy. Sad Edna was not here to see her grow and happy that he had been the one she had chosen to care for her child.

  He bent the wires around and held up the miniature model of his invention. It had wings much like a dragonfly but arranged in a set above and set below. He had covered the wings with the material used in children’s kites. A well-hidden secret from Roanoak, the material was exactly what was needed. Evanora opened the door and he turned to toss it to her.

  She laughed as it glided across the room and she caught it at her knees. Deckard suddenly felt there was something missing. It could glide like a kite, but it couldn’t sore up and down like a bird. He could master flight, but he could not master continuous flight.

  “You’ve done it papa!” Evanora said holding the flying machine over her head as she ran towards him.

  She threw her arms around his neck and laughed merrily, so much, that he could not help but do the same. It was exciting; this was the closest he had ever come. Yet even that did not seem like it was enough. He wanted a flying contraption up in the air supporting human weight and gliding over the city far enough to get from Tiam to a harbor in the north or south. There was nothing that could presently make that flight but perhaps his flying contraption could and create another avenue of trade.

  “Would my assistant like to help me build a full-scale model?” Deckard asked rotating his body slightly away from her to indicate the piles of wood, modified silk, and wire piled behind him.

  “I do!” She said excitedly.

  “Go and change.” Deckard said as she handed him the model and turned to run from the room before he called after her, “Tell Marisol we will take dinner in here.”

  Evanora’s head popped back in as she said, “Marisol will not like that.”

  “Why do you think I am sending you?” Deckard retorted.

  She left, and Deckard listened as the sound of her feet disappeared down the hall. He slumped down in a seat and stared at the contraption. It was better, workable, but something was missing. He twirled around on the stool and inspected the pile of information that had stayed on the table, including his parchment.

  They would build the first version to test his theory that this contraption would glide. Even as the smaller model sat in his hand he could see it now. The sun bore down on his back as he glided above the city. Yet even he knew it was foolish to try it at his age; better to find a younger man. He could try it after he was sure it was operational.

  Evanora snuck up behind him and peered at the drawings on the table top. She picked up one and then another, inspecting each one with the eyes of a child. Deckard watched her patiently as she absorbed the information before moving on to the next.

  “Shall we begin?” He said after a while.

  “Yes,” she said pulling her hair back in a clip before donning her smock.

  They spent the next few hours working on the frame; it would be large enough to carry a thin man or a larger boy. It would take longer with just him and Evanora working tirelessly but it seemed the right course. Phineas Trive had wanted to supply him with men and supplies, as he believed Deckard would succeed.

  Deckard believed it too, which was why he denied Master Trive’s offer. His flying machine would have belonged to Phineas Trive and Deckard’s moral integrity would not allow it to fall into such hands. He would have his invention given to the world; no single man should wield such power.

  “What are you thinking of papa?” Evanora asked standing next to his arm as he sanded a side down.

  “Of the greatness this will bring, if we succeed,” Deckard said leaning back in his stool and looking at their progress. “We could give unassisted flight to man. No animals, just a man and machine.”

  “When we succeed,” Evanora said with a smile as she wrapped her little arms around his, “One day we shall fly together above the city.”

  “Perhaps one day,” Deckard responded and gave her a kiss upon the top of her head.

  “Soon,” Evanora said, and then stifled a yawn.

  “Off to bed,” Deckard said, nudging her off his arm.

  “I am not tired at all!” She said but then brought an arm up to cover a second yawn.

  “And I am a young man,” Deckard said untangling himself and pushing her towards the door. “We cannot always have what we wish.”

  “You will not do more without me will you?” Evanora said with a little pout.

  “I am only going to sand some more,” Deckard assured her.

  “Promise?” Evanora said standing on the threshold of the door with her hands on her hips.

  She was so like her mother, Deckard thought with a little sigh. He put a hand to her heart and said, “I swear.”

  “Good night papa!” She said rushing to give him a hug before running off.

  He watched her go and slumped back into the chair. He stared at the door and remembered her pouting face with her fists resting on her hips. Since when had his little Evanora started to get hips? She would soon be interested in boys and them in her. He put a hand to his cheek and rubbed up and down it to pacify himself.

  He turned back with the paper to continue sanding the wood, but his mind was on his daughter. He had focused so much time on raising her he had forgotten that she would leave him one day. The house would be without her laughter and without her joy. He would be empty again, as he had been before Edna.

  He tried not to let the feelings overwhelm him. Yet his mind wondered who her husband would be, would he bring her happiness? Would she travel far from him or stay close? He had never understood how completely she had changed his life until he considered her no longer being such a constant part of it.

  She would never truly be gone, neither death nor marriage would ever take her from him. Yet as he sat, sanding, with the hands of an old man, he realized there would be a time when he would no longer be the only man in her life. His little girl was growing up and she would fall in love. Even Deckard had thought it an impossibility for him; he too had succumbed to the all-consuming love. It seemed it spared no man from its clutches.

  She would one day find a man she loved with all her brilliant heart and that man would take her away from him. Deckard dropped the sanding paper and just stared at it. He suddenly had this heart wrenching the moment he realized that she, too, would slip between his fingers. Just like Edna.

  Chapter 14

  Ashira Rohan

  Tears. She was made of steel and tears, like all women it seemed. Some had rusted steel from the tears shed but she was not one. Her steel shone as brightly as the moon, but at the top, rust would form from her tears. Mohit, in this moment she wanted his comfort desperately. He would have pouted and demanded all of her attention to the point of complete distraction.

  Without him, she was left to her own devices. The terms of her marriage were nearly complete, she would soon be Queen. She looked down at her hand and raised it to the light, watching
as the light played between her fingers. The light was darkest where she cast her shadow.

  Ashira stood, determined to ignore her own misery. She left the private gardens and entered the larger public ones. Outside, many waited for her and she was surprised, for she had not expected so many. Old, young, some bearing children, and even a few men. She gathered her courage and smiled at them and they rose as she entered the light of the courtyard.

  “My people,” she said touching the head of a child as she passed, “What brings you so far from your homes?”

  “I ask your blessing,” a woman said.

  “I wish to serve you,” a young woman said and bowed deeply before her.

  “We do not wish you to leave us,” a little girl said staring up at her with sad little eyes.

  Her heart soared and sunk all at once; so overcome by emotion she felt tears. She was a princess and princesses do not cry even when they wish to. Instead she bent down and helped the kneeling woman stand, remembering that she was doing this for them. King Highlander had tricked them once, he was practically at their door and she would do this to keep her people and her family safe. Ashira would protect the little girl and future children by becoming their enemy’s bride.

  “I would not ask you to leave home, but if you wish to come with me I shall not stop you.” Ashira said to the young woman.

  “I would be as a friend to you in that strange land,” she said taking Ashira’s hands and holding them tight as though Ashira was dying a painful death and the girl her only comfort.

  “What is your name?” Ashira asked softly.

  “Missari,” the girl said and smiled, “I shall serve you loyally.”

  “I know you shall,” Ashira said kissing her on each cheek through their veils.

  “My child?” A woman said coming forward, holding an infant.

  “He is beautiful,” Ashira said, reaching for the child before taking him under her veil and kissing his little head.

  “Bless you,” many said reaching to touch her dress as she walked past.