Evil Within

by Richard S. Tuttle

  "You think I was wrong to exclude him?" asked the prince.

  "No," answered the king. "I do think it is wrong to base all of your decisions on the fear of others getting hurt. Prince Derri may well escort his father to Tarent later this month and die because of that journey. None of us can forecast the future, Son. If I made my decisions based solely on fear, you would not be leaving this palace."

  "That is something for me to consider," nodded Prince Antion, "but it is not pertinent now in any event. Our journey is well past Kyland. Do you really think there is danger for the Salacians in Tarent?"

  "I truly don't know," admitted King Caedmon. "The Borundans have made it clear that they think nothing of offending Arin, but Salacia is another matter. I wish I knew exactly what Garrick was up to. I even contemplated going to the coronation in an attempt to discover the truth, but I came to my senses. Any nation that would send a mage into my home to spy is not a nation that I would trust."

  "If the Salacians do decide to go," suggested the prince, "they will have to pass through Anatar. You could ask King Hector to gauge the feelings of Garrick towards Arin."

  "I may do that," nodded the king, "but enough of this dreary talk. It is time to visit with your family. Both your mother and your sister have missed you very much."

  * * *

  Prince Garrick sat at the head of the long table, and Prince Zinan sat at his right hand. The members of the Council of Advisors looked around for the regent, but Naveena was conspicuously absent.

  "I think we can begin the meeting," declared Prince Zinan.

  "The Regent is not present," objected General Ortega.

  "Nor will she be," Prince Zinan said coolly. "She is not feeling well, but that is a minor technicality. Prince Garrick is for all practical purposes the King of Borunda. While we may not have had the coronation yet, that is only a delay to allow the foreign dignitaries time to assemble and pay their respects. We should not let such formalities get in the way of running the country."

  "May I ask why you are here, Prince Zinan?" questioned General Wikner.

  "I am the king's advisor," Prince Zinan replied with a challenging stare. "I see no reason to delay the performance of my duties. Now, if we are finished with the trivial matters, Prince Garrick would like to begin this meeting. Are there any objections?"

  Several of the members whispered to one another, but no one was willing to incur the wrath of the future king over such a senseless argument. Whatever the king planned to do, he would have the right to do in a few weeks anyway.

  "Welcome, members of the Council of Advisors," Prince Garrick began. "I am pleased that there is no objection to starting my reign early as I have not been pleased with the progress that we have been making in a number of key areas. My primary concern is the size and condition of our armies. We have been trying to recruit for months now, and the result has been dismal. Can you explain this, General Ortega?"

  The general rose and met Prince Garrick's icy stare, but he felt awkward with not knowing how to address the prince formally.

  "I shall try, Your Highness," he finally decided. "Our efforts have failed mostly because of attitude. Those who yearned for service in the military have already joined up, and that has resulted in a marked increase in the size of our armies, but there are still many likely candidates who show no interest in serving. If our nation was at war, I believe most of those holdouts would readily enlist. You and I have discussed this issue in the past, and my analysis of it has not changed."

  "Indeed we have, General Ortega," nodded Prince Garrick, "but I wanted that information shared with the council. Borunda cannot declare war on another nation merely to build an army. We need the army built first. So I ask my advisors, how do we solve this dilemma?"

  "I have never been clear on our need to enlarge the army," declared General Wikner. "Is there some trouble brewing that I am not aware of?"

  "There is," interjected Prince Zinan. "Our spies have indicated that there is an Arin plot to seize Koar and then choke Capri into submission. This would not only be devastating because of the loss of one of our largest cities, but it would also give Arin complete control over commerce throughout the Land of the Nine Kingdoms. If our armies are not prepared to defend against such a threat, what is to stop the Arinites from marching on Tarent?"

  "I had not been informed of this information," paled General Wikner. "How reliable is it? I mean, the Arinites have never seemed aggressive to me."

  Prince Zinan made a show of shaking his head as an indication of the foolishness of such a question. "Are you not aware of the current recruiting effort of the Arin army?" he asked the general.

  "I was not aware of such a thing," the general admitted, his face beginning to flush with embarrassment. "My information shows their army at normal strength."

  "Your information is inadequate," declared Prince Zinan. "Their army is indeed at the same strength it has always been, but only through trickery. They are training their men and then suspending their service, only to immediately recruit others and begin training them. Their forges are working day and night, and still they must purchase weapons from Salacia. I am not sure where your information is coming from, General Wikner, but you are wasting your gold by paying for it."

  "My gold," interjected Prince Garrick. "It is my gold he is wasting."

  General Wikner turned bright red, and he promptly sat down. General Ortega smiled thinly at his competitor's discomfort and then rose to his feet to be recognized.

  "Perhaps King Caedmon should be confronted when he arrives for the coronation ceremonies," the general suggested. "If we make public his private raising of armies, he might well have to abandon his plans for conquest."

  "King Caedmon will not be coming to Tarent to celebrate the coronation," smiled Prince Zinan.

  "Inconceivable," retorted General Ortega. "Such a public slight would be unacceptable."

  "I agree," Prince Zinan nodded, "but what can we do about it? Surely, we cannot declare war on another country because they slight our king."

  "No," agreed General Ortega, "but such a slight would give great credence to the rumor of Arin's impending attack."

  "It is not a rumor," corrected Prince Zinan. "It is a fact."

  "But a fact that we cannot yet prove," smiled the general. "What I am proposing is that we start a rumor based on that fact. Let the rumor run rampant, and when the Arin king fails to show for the coronation, everyone will believe it. You will not only get the recruits you need for the army, you will gain support from the other nations who will be in attendance for the coronation."

  "Brilliant," smiled Prince Garrick. "You please me, General Ortega. This sounds like the type of plan that I have been looking for. You will institute it immediately. The other major problem we have revolves around armor and weapons. We do not have enough to supply the armies that we plan to raise. I want this council to figure out where those supplies will come from. I am open to anything internally to boost production, and I will agree to external purchases. We will meet again in two days. I expect to hear some pleasing solutions."

  Prince Zinan indicated the meeting was adjourned, and the councilors filed out of the room. Prince Garrick waited patiently for everyone to leave before speaking.

  "I think that went very well, Zinan," smiled Prince Garrick. "We not only got them to accept my position early, but we also seemed to have inspired them to act as we wish. Your spy network is already paying vast dividends. It was gold well spent. There is one question that intrigues me, though. How did you discover King Caedmon's intentions regarding the coronation? Our runners have not even returned yet."

  "That was a lie," smiled Prince Zinan. "I have no idea what King Caedmon will do, and it doesn't matter much."

  "I don't understand," frowned the Crown Prince. "If he shows up at the coronation, our plan will be ruined. How can you say that it doesn't matter?"

  "Our plan would not be ruined," retorted the king's advisor. "We would lose a little of the
expected boost from the other nations, but the rumor would not be diminished among our own people. Besides, if he does indeed plan to attend the ceremony, I do not expect him to survive the journey here."

  "You would attack the Arin king without provocation?" gasped Prince Garrick. "That is an act of war."

  "War is what we have planned in any event," shrugged Prince Zinan, "but I would never be so obvious as to use our soldiers for such an attack. Regardless of what decision King Caedmon makes, he is not likely to attend your coronation. In the end, my spies will have appeared to be correct, and our building of armies will reach new heights. The nice thing about our plans, dear cousin, is that we win no matter what happens."

  "I like to win," grinned Prince Garrick, "and I like your style of advising much better than Naveena's. Just remember when you are tricking the masses that you always keep me properly informed."

  Chapter 25 - The Merchant Kerzi

  The Merchant Kerzi

  Gunnar was acting as the scout when he raised his hand to halt the group. Behind him, the wagon slowly came to a stop. Gunnar turned his horse around and rode back to the wagon. The rest of the warriors readied their weapons as if an attack was imminent.

  "What is it?" Horst asked with concern as Gunnar returned to the rest of the group.

  "This is the end of the journey," Gunnar replied. "The town of Goodland is just around the bend, and Kerzi will be leaving us there. I see no sense in all of us riding into town, and there is a good campsite just up that trail," he added as he pointed to a narrow track not far away. "The rest of you can wait for me there, and tomorrow we will begin to investigate the death of Jared's father."

  "I don't like the idea of your going alone," objected the Odessian. "All of Capri is a den of thievery and murder."

  "You have no need to escort me into Goodland," agreed Kerzi. "Leaving me here is just fine."

  "I made a bargain with you old man," smiled Gunnar, "and I always honor my contracts. Besides, you are carrying a fair amount of gold on you. I don't want you to lose it during the last mile."

  "A fair amount?" chuckled the merchant. "I have more profit from this trip than I had for all of last year. The first thing I am going to do is contract for a new and larger wagon."

  "I still do not see why we all cannot go into town," frowned Talot.

  "I do not know where this investigation will lead," explained Gunnar. "It may be to our advantage to appear separate from each other at some point in the future. Why let the world know that we travel as one?"

  "That makes sense to me," agreed Monte. "We can pry more information out of people if we are able to talk to them independently. When one of us fails to get the information we need, the next one will be prepared to ask in a different manner."

  "Do not dally in town," Horst sighed with resignation. "If you are not at the campsite when the sun sets, we are all coming after you."

  "Agreed," nodded Gunnar as he waved the wagon onward.

  Kerzi started the wagon rolling and Gunnar rode alongside it while the rest of the group left the road to follow the narrow trail. The trip into Goodland was well over a mile, but the two men soon entered the trading town. Gunnar looked around at the familiar sights with a sort of nostalgia. He had been gone only a few months, but his memories seemed so distant as he recalled his first meeting with the merchant.

  "I have enjoyed our travels together very much, Kerzi," Gunnar smiled as the old man halted the wagon outside a wagon shop. "You have become more than a friend to me."

  The old man climbed off the seat and Gunnar dismounted. Kerzi walked over to Gunnar and embraced him.

  "You have become like a son to me," the old man said with tears in his eyes. "If you ever need me for any reason, I will drop my load and come. I want you to remember that. Promise me that you will."

  "I promise," Gunnar smiled warmly as he broke the embrace and held the merchant at arm's length, "and I always keep my promises."

  "Do you?" teased the old man. "You once promised that I would meet your father, and yet I have not."

  "But you have," chuckled Gunnar. "Someday I will introduce you properly, but that time is not now."

  Gunnar did not care much for emotional farewells, and he abruptly turned and walked away, leading his horse along the street. He heard the old man discussing terms for a new wagon to be built for him, but he dared not turn around to watch Kerzi in his moment of excitement. Tears started to form in the corners of his eyes, and he wiped his fingers across them quickly.

  "Well if it isn't Gunnar," came a loud voice from in front of the tavern. "I never thought I would see you again."

  Gunnar looked across the street to see Babul walking towards him. The large man had befriended the prince on his first visit to Goodland months ago, but the prince was not desirous of starting a conversation about his journey, at least not now. Babul always seemed to be full of questions.

  "I take it your journey was rather prosperous," Babul commented as he halted in front of the prince. "I thought old Kerzi was only paying one silver a day?"

  "You have a good memory," frowned Gunnar. "That is all that Kerzi paid me. What makes you think differently?"

  "I am no fool, Gunnar from up north," grinned Babul. "You have a new sword, and a fine one from the looks of it, and a new bow. They are pricey things to purchase on one silver a day. I wonder if you know how to use them?"

  "I managed to get Kerzi home safely," Gunnar shrugged as he wondered if Babul made a habit of memorizing everyone's weapons. Surely hundreds, if not thousands, of warriors had come through Goodland in the last few months. No one could remember them all.

  "So you did," grinned Babul. "Come into the tavern, and I will buy you an ale."

  "Not today," Gunnar shook his head. "I am heading out."

  "Heading out?" echoed the big man. "You are not going to compete for another journey?"

  "Not today," Gunnar shook his head. "Perhaps when I return I will take you up on your offer of an ale."

  "So you have hit it rich with Kerzi?" questioned Babul. "What did you two run into on that journey?"

  "What do you mean?" asked Gunnar.

  "One silver a day is not enough to allow a man to walk away from the next job," Babul said accusingly, "yet you come back with new weapons and a horse that should cost more than Kerzi's entire wagon with his team thrown in."

  "The horse was a gift from an old friend," retorted Gunnar. "In fact the sword was also a gift. Just because a man spends his money on a new bow does not mean that he has too much of it. I like you Babul, but I do not appreciate what your comments are suggesting. Kerzi paid me one silver a day as he promised to do."

  "Whatever you say," smiled Babul as he held up his hands in mock defense. "Where are you off to?"

  "I am not sure yet," Gunnar replied vaguely. "Farewell, Babul. Take care of yourself."

  Babul's eyes narrowed as he watched Gunnar mount his horse and ride out of town towards the west. A mousy man came running up to Babul and stood next to him as Gunnar disappeared from sight. His gray hair was tousled, and his short, sharp nose twitched nervously as Babul turned to face him.

  "Who is he?" asked the mousy man.

  "I don't know, Alan," answered Babul, "but he is not who he claims to be. I have been in this business long enough to know that. That warrior reeks of gold. What did you find out about Kerzi?"

  "He just ordered a new wagon," answered Alan.

  "The old wagon did not appear to be broken when they came into town," mused the big man.

  "It's not broken," squeaked Alan. "The old man is getting a bigger wagon. He seemed to be in exceptionally good humor."

  "I know how to solve that problem," grinned Babul.

  "Kerzi won't be heading back on the road for some time yet," frowned Alan. "By then his gold will all be spent."

  "Then we won't wait," shrugged the big man.

  "Hit him in town?" gasped Alan. "That is never done. A lot of people won't like that."

  "Then we
don't advertise it," retorted Babul. "Get the group together. We meet at the docks in one hour."

  * * *

  Gunnar returned to his group at the campsite. His friends had already set up sentries, and Talot intercepted him before he reached the camp. The giant waved him past, and Gunnar found that the evening meal was already cooked. Horst took care of his horse as he dismounted, and Jared brought him a plate of food.

  "It doesn't seem the same without Kerzi here," commented Monte. "What do we do now?"

  "In the morning we begin searching for information about Jared's father," answered Gunnar. "Do you think you can remember where you were camped when it happened?" he asked Jared.

  "I will remember it," nodded Jared. "It is only a few miles north of here."

  "Is Goodland the market that he sent you to?" asked Gunnar.

  "No," Jared shook his head. "There is a village closer to the site. It is not much of a village, but my father used to fix things for the villagers in return for fruits and vegetables. He always tried to avoid the larger towns so we stayed well away from the Anatar-Koar Road."

  Gunnar nodded silently and turned his attention to his food. Monte took Jared off a ways for some archery lessons, and Horst spent his time grooming the horses. Hours later, Monte took over as sentry, and the camp went to sleep.

  The predawn lightening of the sky had already begun when Gunnar was awakened. He felt the hand on his shoulder and immediately sat up. He stared into Talot's face with a questioning gaze.

  "Get up," the Lomite said softly. "We are not under attack, but your attention is needed."

  Gunnar nodded and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The campfire was burning anew, and the Arin prince saw Horst kneeling over a body. He rushed over and looked down at the bloodied form of Kerzi. The old man's clothes were in shreds and crusty bloodstains covered his face.

  "What happened?" Gunnar asked with alarm.

  "He hasn't been able to talk yet," answered Horst. "The old man must have crawled all the way from Goodland. I can't believe he made it this far. He needs a wisper badly."

  "Where are we going to find a wisper in Capri?" growled Gunnar. "No wisper would spend her time in this country."