Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  Skylar groaned a little.

  “Just a bruise, I think.”

  “Good, I thought you’d broken your leg for certain.”

  Lasseter took the still dangling rope and tugged it in a strange pattern. As if in answer to a command, the rope suddenly fell free and Lasseter caught the black sphere, no longer four-pronged.

  “How did you do that?” said Skylar.

  “It’s a code. Tug the rope with just the right pattern and interval, and the prongs retract.”

  Lasseter returned the ball and rope to his sack, then motioned for Skylar to follow. Through the dark, muddy streets, they made their way deeper into the heart of the city. Keeping to the shadows and alleyways as much as possible, they passed by the dormant buildings like phantoms in the night. At last they arrived at the back door of a dwelling, indistinguishable in the dark from the others around it.

  Drawing up close to the weathered door, Lasseter lightly rapped it with his knuckles. After a moment’s silence, the door creaked open. Amber light spilled into the street. A man with gray stubble and a stern gaze stood in the portal. The man fixed his gaze on the cloaked and hooded form of Lasseter, then on Skylar.

  “Is he come?” the man asked in a low tone.

  “He is,” replied Lasseter.

  NINE

  THE MAN NODDED and beckoned for them to enter. Skylar, following his uncle, stepped into the dimly-lit abode of the stranger, unsure of what to think of the cryptic exchange that had just passed. “Is he come?” The man had said, as if he’d been waiting for Skylar, as if Skylar were someone of consequence.

  Behind them, the man closed the creaky door as quietly as possible. Lasseter pulled the hood back from his face. Skylar did likewise. The room in which they found themselves was small, sparsely furnished. At one end of it the embers of a fire long exhausted glowed with their last flicker of life. Over it hung a rusted kettle. Two cots stood on the old wooden floor just in front of the hearth. Near the adjacent wall was a man, looking as if he’d just stood up from the table in front of him.

  This other man was tall with powerful arms that bulged from his jerkin. He looked considerably younger than the other stranger, but bore a look of wisdom and experience beyond his years. His eyes met Skylar’s. Then slowly he inclined his head, keeping his eyes fixed on Skylar. The gesture puzzled Skylar, and he did not know how best to respond.

  A third stranger appeared from a back room, stopping at the threshold of the doorway. He was shorter than the man at the table, but stout and strong. He too looked younger than the first man. His sable hair was short and kempt, and matched his eyes, which he likewise fixed on Skylar. Unlike the other man, this one wore a sour look on his face.

  “Is that him?” he said gruffly.

  Skylar looked back at his uncle and the man who opened the door. But they ignored the question.

  “What news, old friend?” said the older man to Lasseter.

  “The Trackers found him on Haladras,” replied Lasseter gravely. “I was careless to let them get so close. I should have brought him here sooner.”

  Lasseter shook his head and set his teeth.

  “Foolish, indeed,” he continued, “he’s certainly on our trail now.”

  “Yes,” replied the stranger, “but he is safe, for the present.”

  The stranger turned to Skylar. “I’ve waited many long years for this day. What honor to see you again.”

  The man’s eyes, though dark and beset in a scarred, careworn face, possessed a softness that surprised Skylar. Those eyes seemed to see something within Skylar that ignited a long-dormant memory.

  “I am glad that you are safe,” he said.

  “Thank you,” said Skylar. “But, Sir, I’m afraid we’ve never met before. Nor do I even know why I am here.”

  The man’s stone-set mouth cracked into a smile. Lasseter, too, let out a chuckle.

  “This is Krom, a true and faithful friend,” said Lasseter.

  Krom solemnly nodded, just as the others had done.

  Indicating the man at the table, he said, “This is the valiant Grim Galloway. A finer swordsman there never was.” He motioned to the other. “And this stout and stout-hearted fellow is Endrick.”

  “I’m pleased to meet all you,” responded Skylar, attempting to be as courteous as he could, despite his weariness and anxiety over all that he’d endured in the hours since the Trackers attacked him on Haladras. “Can one of you explain to me why I am here?”

  “I see Lasseter has kept you guessing this whole while,” replied Krom. “I think the time is ripe for the truth to be revealed to you. Lasseter, however, is the best one of us to do the telling.”

  Skylar turned to his uncle and looked at him expectantly. But Lasseter merely shook his head and turned away.

  “I don’t have the heart to tell it,” said Lasseter. “Krom shall tell it. I must sleep now.”

  Lasseter began walking toward the threshold to the back room, his boots sounding heavily on the hollow floor. He stopped short of the threshold, however, and turned back.

  “You may trust these men more than your closest friends. Your life to them is more precious than their own.”

  So saying, he left the room, leaving Skylar alone on a foreign planet with three utter strangers.

  Krom walked over to the table and invited Skylar to take a seat. Despite Skylar’s exhaustion, he felt he couldn’t possibly sleep until he discovered the reason for the Trackers, and why Lasseter had made him flee Haladras, and why these men treated with such diffidence. He gladly accepted the chair, for his legs and feet ached from their journey. Grim offered him some cheese and a piece of stale bread. These he ate hungrily, but without relish. When he had finished the meager repast, Krom began to speak. His voice was deep and full of that subtle magic which enthralls its listeners.

  “Your story begins a lifetime ago, on a planet you only know by name, and with a man whose greatness shall ever be remembered. That place is Ahlderon and that man was King Athylian, of the House Ducädese.

  “Long ago, before Athylian was king, he befriended a boy. That boy’s name was Tarus. They were both just young lads in those days. Horseplay, sword fighting, fishing, and running through the forest were all they lived for. The pair were great friends and were rarely found apart.

  “But as boys do, they grew older. No longer did they play as they had as boys. Still, hunting, sword fighting, and occasionally some fair damsel brought them together and kept their friendship alive. Increasingly, however, Athylian’s responsibilities as future king of the empire kept him preoccupied. Often, Athylian’s father, King Yurik would request his presence during council sessions, public hearings, or diplomatic affairs, which took him to some distant part of the empire.

  “Whilst the young prince grew in wisdom, learning and stature, Tarus grew in corruption and vice. It was during one of Athylian’s extended departures with his father that Tarus, lonely and feeling self-pity, took up with a new set of friends. This little band of friends possessed few virtues, but many faults. An indolent group they were, seldom found engaged in wholesome labor. Pleasure-seekers to the core, they felt most at home in the tavern than anywhere else. And Tarus quickly sank into their debauchery.

  “Tarus endeavored to conceal his newfound friends and way of life from Athylian. But darkness can never hide from light. Though it broke Athylian’s heart to see what Tarus was becoming, he refused to abandon his boyhood companion. Every chance afforded him, Athylian would take Tarus out hunting, or bring him to the castle to practice fencing.

  “On his eighteenth birthday, Athylian began preparations to enter the University of Strybrn—there to complete his formal education. Fearful that Tarus would sink to old habits while he was away, Athylian implored his father to send Tarus with him.

  “Knowing something of Tarus’ reputation, King Yurik at first denied his son’s request. Athylian pressed him, though, expressing his desire to help his friend. In the end, his father relented, for he saw that
his son’s heart was in the right place. No graver mistake did King Yurik ever make.

  “During their first year at the university together the bond of friendship between Athylian and Tarus seemed to grow strong again. In their second year, a fellow student by the name of Morvin Athl made repeated overtures of friendship to the pair. Morvin was a peculiar individual and Athylian—who could find virtue in any man—distrusted him from the start.

  “Tarus, however, was enchanted by Morvin, who possessed a fine tongue and used much flattery. Tarus kept company with Morvin more and more. And though this displeased Athylian, never did he confront Tarus about it, but maintained his unwavering friendship.

  “Morvin proved not only to be a gifted speaker, but a brilliant mind, as well. He excelled in all his classes. In particular, however, he possessed a gift with machines. Such things he conjured up out of pieces of metal that his professors marveled at them. Yet despite his talents and academic excellence, Morvin failed to secure Athylian’s trust. Something in his manner—his smug, confident smile, his—narrow eyes, made Athylian uneasy. Then Morvin made a blunder.

  “It was in their fourth year. Morvin ranked top in his class. Indeed, he seemed well positioned to join the few alumni who graduated a Prime Scholar. Midway through their term, however, one of the professors happened upon Morvin in one of the laboratories late in the night. The professor was startled to find anyone up so late, still working. Morvin explained that he had been struck with an idea for an invention and wanted to work on it straight away. The professor, of course, believed Morvin. He was the best student in school.

  “Nevertheless, after that incident the professor began to notice that supplies were unaccountably depleted from the laboratory’s stock holds. The professor inquired into the matter, but found no satisfactory explanation. Concerned because of the expensive nature of the supplies, the professor sought out Morvin, who denied having any knowledge which would account for the missing supplies.

  “The professor’s suspicions against Morvin continued to mount. But having no substantial evidence to make any accusations, the professor kept his peace. Instead, he devised a plan to catch the thief. Realizing the pilfering likely occurred at night, the professor set himself as guard over the laboratory. Hiding himself behind one of the tapestries, he waited.

  “For hours he stood there, sleepy and fatigued from standing. And just about the time he decided to give up his watch, he heard someone entering the lab. The professor secretly peered out from behind his hiding place. The intruder was Morvin.

  “Patiently, the professor waited behind the curtain, straining his ears to make sense of the noises he heard. At last, Morvin left. Straightway, the professor went to check the supply hold. As certain as the sun rises on the morrow, more supplies had been taken.

  “The professor presented this evidence to the dean of the university. An inspection of Morvin’s quarters was ordered. The inspection yielded the discovery of a myriad of devices and machines—some of which bore striking resemblance to insects.”

  At the mention of mechanical insects the hairs rose on the back of Skylar’s neck.

  Krom continued.

  “The dean insisted that a number of these devices be handed over to the university so that other students or faculty might study them. It was a high complement. But Morvin did not see it as such. He desired the devices for his own purposes. Morvin resisted the dean’s request, arguing that his devices yet needed work; that he himself had yet to learn all he could from his work. The dean merely waved aside these concerns. But Morvin refused to yield. He grew angry, almost violent.

  “The dean, too, grew angry and promised to expel Morvin from the university if he did not hand over the devices by the following day, and issue a formal apology to the faculty and student body himself. Morvin made no further argument, but stormed out of the dean’s office.

  “The following day, Morvin failed to meet the dean’s demands. And when university officials sought to find him, Morvin was gone, and his devices too.

  “With Morvin out of his life, Athylian seemed to breathe more easily. Tarus and Athylian’s fifth and final year passed quickly and uneventfully away.

  “After graduation, Tarus and Athylian returned home. The king invited Tarus to live in the castle and appointed him a junior officer of the Council for Interplanetary Relations. An appointment which kept young Tarus more than preoccupied and away from the castle more than not.

  “Within a few brief years, however, war erupted between the Ahlderion Empire and the depraved, bloodthirsty nation of Tor. Both Tarus and Athylian fought on the battlefront. Many times one saving the other’s life, only to have the favor reciprocated. The war went well for the empire. (As well as a war can go.) The Tors were rapidly losing forces and provisions. But then tragedy struck; King Yurik himself was grievously wounded during one of the final battles. Soon after, he died.

  “The war ended, Athylian, grief stricken over the loss of his father, commenced his reign. Wanting Tarus always at his side, the young king appointed him as his second-in-command.

  “Athylian, with Tarus at his side, spent the first years of his reign rebuilding his war-stricken kingdom. Athylian loved his people. Tirelessly and devotedly he toiled on their behalf. In time, the people came to love their new king as earnestly as they loved his father. He had earned their trust. And little by little the kingdom was restored. Not only this, the people began to thrive and prosper again.

  “It was during this time that Tarus, unbeknownst to Athylian, renewed an old friendship. Morvin Athl had sought out and found Tarus. Tarus was glad to see his old friend, but knowing Athylian’s dislike for Morvin, told nothing of it to the king. Little had changed about Morvin. He was as cunning and brilliant as ever. He had altered his name, nonetheless. It was a name that matched the true darkness of his soul. Morvath.

  “Seldom did Tarus leave the castle or Athylian’s side. But when the opportunity arose, Tarus visited Morvath. The two would talk long into the night. They spoke of their time at the university, sharing fond memories. All the while, Morvath, as insidious as a snake, administered to Tarus the slow poison that corrupted his soul.

  “Little by little, Morvath endeavored to unearth the greed and avarice buried deep within Tarus’s heart. These vices grew larger and stronger, until they smothered his virtues. Gone were his true loyalty and love for Athylian. Gone was the man who would sacrifice his life for the empire. One thirst now drove him like a whip to a slave’s back. One desire haunted every waking and sleeping moment of his existence. It festered beneath his skin like a boil. He craved the crown.

  “During the long period of Tarus’ transformation from man to beast—nay, to puppet, for indeed Morvath had become his master. During this time, Athylian married the Lady Lenovee, daughter of Lord Rowvan of Allega, of the House Gilderad. Athylian’s people loved their new queen with the same affection they held for their king, but more so. They adored her. And so the two great houses, Ducädese and Gilderad were joined.

  “Still, Tarus’ heart grew colder, his perverse desires stronger. He and his puppet-master bided their time, however. Others close to Athylian endeavored to warn the king of the change in Tarus. I was among them.”

  Krom paused and nodded slowly as Skylar looked at him quizzically.

  “Yes,” he continued, “I tried to open the king’s eyes. He would hear none of it, too loyal to his friend to believe Tarus would harm him. Though, deep inside I doubt not he knew a dark shroud had fallen over Tarus.

  “Three years after the jubilant union of Athylian and Lenovee, the queen gave birth to a daughter; a year later, a son. Korbyn, they named him. This stunned Tarus. He had not anticipated the young prince’s birth—yet another barrier to the throne. Too impatient to prolong his reign, he and Morvath laid plans on the very night of the prince’s birth to bring about his secret design.

  “With Morvath as his brains, Tarus made a covenant with the Tors that he would put the entire royal family into the
ir hands in exchange for wealth and immunity. Still smarting from their ignominious defeat by King Yurik, the Tors eagerly accepted a chance for revenge.

  “The evil conspirators set to execute their dark plans on the upcoming anniversary of the king and queen. Then Tarus went to work. With all the pretense of a loving, concerned friend, Tarus gently persuaded Athylian to take a much-needed break from his duties as king. Athylian was at first opposed to such an idea. But Tarus’ persistence eventually paid off. He managed to convince Athylian to take his little family to a secluded part of the kingdom, dressed as commoners, without royal guards or kingly entourage, for five days. For in Tarus’ own words, ‘surely the empire will not crumble to ruins in just five days.’

  “And so their plans were set. The king and queen, the young princess and the infant prince would surreptitiously leave Ahlderon in the night and travel to Limril Lake where they would vacation in a small cottage. Tarus made all the arrangements, taking special care that ‘only the most trusted servants’ knew of the king’s plans. The royal family would go alone, but for one faithful man servant—a bodyguard of sorts.

  “From that point on it was all too simple for Tarus. Once the royal family slipped away from Ahlderon, Morvath advised the Tors. Employing a stolen ship, the Tors landed undetected near the secret retreat, found and assassinated the royal family, then quietly fled the scene.

  “Word soon reached Ahlderon, and Tarus’ ears. I was present when he received it. I saw that traitor’s feigned shock, his forced tears, his mock anguish. I knew as soon as I saw this escapade that he had played a role in it. His eyes were as guilty as a man’s caught with a bloody dagger in his clenched fist. Yet I held my tongue. I possessed no real evidence to accuse him. And so I was forced to watch that scoundrel as he hoodwinked the empire with his false love for Athylian.

  “Knowing his window of chance would shortly close, Tarus seized command, and ordered Athylian’s generals to prepare for an attack. He planned to betray the Tors, who wished to take control of the empire. No sooner were Athylian’s battle hosts arrayed than the Tors appeared. But they were quickly thwarted. The generals knew their strategy.