by Pirateaba
“What?”
Flos sprang to his feet, so quickly Venith cursed and pulled his horse back. He rode backwards as the king mused to himself out loud.
“It’s strange. If you were another [Assassin], or a [Bounty Hunter] or [Mercenary], or any one of the people who’ve come to claim my head this month, you’d have tried to sneak up and stab me to death, or blast me with a spell at range. Or use an arrow. Or poison. But you didn’t. You rode up and told me you were going to kill me.”
“So? I’m a [Warrior]. Are you going to draw your sword or not?”
Venith didn’t know why he was replying when he should have been attacking. But Flos just grinned as if he knew.
“If I didn’t, would you cut me down? Unarmed?”
“Yes!”
“No, I don’t think you would. Else, you’d have ridden at me and not given me time to prepare.”
That was true. Venith knew he should have done that, and he flushed angrily. But Flos just smiled.
“So you’re coming to take my head? Why?”
“My reasons are my own. I’m challenging you, king of Reim. Are you a coward, or will you answer me with steel?”
Venith raised his voice and shouted down at the young man. Flos sighed. He reached for his side and drew his sword. Venith tensed.
“Well?”
Flos looked mystified.
“Well, what?”
“Get on your stallion.”
The young King looked over at where his stallion had gone to graze. He shook his head.
“I don’t feel like it. I’ll fight you on foot. It won’t make a difference either way.”
“What?”
Venith stared down at Flos. He felt unbalanced. The young king of Reim, the boy with eight thousand gold pieces on his head dead and twice that alive, grinned as he spread his arms.
“Shouldn’t you be glad? I’ve heard a mounted [Rider] can defeat three [Soldiers] of the same level.”
That was just a rumor. Venith had heard the same thing boasted of, but since he was no [Rider] he’d never want to try that. He stared down with narrowed eyes at Flos. He wasn’t what Venith had expected at all. He hadn’t tried to beg for his life, or flee for safety. Part of Venith couldn’t help but admire the King for his confidence.
But he was here to kill the young man. That made everything harder. After a second of furious internal debate, Venith swung himself off his horse. He set his mare running with a slap on her side as he grabbed the shield he always carried. It was flat along the top and curved downwards to a point at the bottom. A heater shield. This one didn’t have Venith’s heraldry on it. It, like his sword, was unmarked, so no one would know his identity when the deed was done.
Flos eyed Venith as the young man approached, keeping his shield up.
“You needn’t have done that.”
“Shut up. I’m better without my horse. Now, are you going to fight?”
Venith was angry without knowing why. He didn’t want to do this, but he had to. He wished he’d never spoken. But to his surprise, the young Flos just grinned.
“As you like. I am Flos of Reim! What’s your name?”
It was too late to go back. Venith shouted over the thundering of his heart.
“Venith Crusand! Prepare to die!”
He charged, ready to end it in a single thrust. But Flos raised his sword and Venith, forewarned, raised his shield. He felt something crash into his shield and staggered. He raised his sword, but Flos was already running past him. Venith spun, and heard a strange noise over the blood pumping in his veins. It was laughter. Flos was laughing—
Five minutes later, Venith lay on the ground. He couldn’t move. Part of the armor around his legs was damaged and unable to bend. And his right hand felt broken. He stared up at the blue, clear sky while he heard footsteps crunching in the dirt, coming towards him.
“I told you it wouldn’t make a difference.”
Venith closed his eyes. He refused to cry, or beg. He tried to speak and coughed.
“Finish me off already.”
“Why?”
Someone reached down and hauled Venith up. The young man found himself being carried to the slight incline where he’d first laid eyes on Flos. The young king dropped Venith there, and Venith stared up at him.
“If you plan on torturing me to find out where I come from—”
“Don’t be silly. I like you. And I don’t care where you come from. I just want to know why you came to kill me.”
Flos grinned down at Venith. He was barely sweating. Venith stared up at him.
“I needed the bounty on your head. That’s all.”
He felt ashamed for saying it. It wasn’t an honorable thing to do. But Venith was no [Knight]. He had duties. He was ready for Flos to scorn him, but the young king only laughed.
“That’s why you tried to kill me? Just for money? Then it’s no wonder you lost!”
That stung. Venith tried to rise and fell back.
“I had a chance! I waited until you were alone. If I’d attacked from behind—”
“You still would have lost. I can’t be killed by [Assassins], you see. I have a friend—well, a vassal, really. She would have killed you, but I told her to let you come closer.”
“A vassal?”
Venith looked around stupidly, but he hadn’t seen anyone when he’d approached Flos. The king just smiled.
“You might have beaten me, it’s true, but not with a bad reason like that.”
He laughed again. It was beginning to get on Venith’s nerves.
“What do you mean?”
The boy King stopped laughing and regarded Venith, suddenly serious.
“If your reason isn’t good enough, there’s no way you’d ever best me. I have a dream as large as all of Chandrar. If yours isn’t at least half as big, you’ll never be able to beat me.”
“What? That’s stupid.”
“It’s not. I’ll never die so long as I have my dream. That’s why I knew I could beat you.”
Flos stared down at the other young man. He offered Venith a hand again. After a moment of hesitation, Venith took it.
“You’re nothing like what I’ve heard of.”
“Oh?”
“I heard you were a fool who accepted traitors and slaves into his kingdom. A rabble rouser with no respect for law or tradition.”
“That’s partly true. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
Flos spread his arms wide, grinning broadly with a smile that was infectious.
“I am a King. If I cared what people thought, I’d really be a fool, wouldn’t I?”
Venith stared at him. He wasn’t like any [King] Venith had ever met, not that he’d had a chance to talk to any other one. He’d only glimpsed other monarchs from afar, usually on bended knee or while dining at a feast or banquet. But Flos was different.
“So if you won’t kill me, what will you do? My family…cannot afford to pay a ransom if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“I don’t want that either. I think I’ll just let you go.”
Flos turned and whistled as Venith gaped. One horse came running. Venith’s mare. Flos stared at his stallion and kicked at the dirt irritably. Then he smiled again as Venith staggered over to his mare.
“When you have a better reason for fighting, come find me again. That was fun.”
The other young man made no reply. He hauled himself up into the saddle, wincing. He wheeled his mare to stare at Flos. Then he shook his head.
“You aren’t worth my time.”
Venith spurred his stallion and rode away as he heard the young man named Flos howl with laughter. At that moment, Venith hated that sound. But he would hear it for many more years and smile. Until the day the laugher stopped…
—-
Laughter. It was fierce, loud, and unexpected. It made Trey jolt as he stared at Flos. The King of Destruction was laughing at the man who’d spoken. Venith Crusand.
When he finished, there was silence. Flos wiped tears from his eyes, and then stared up at the mounted man, his smile fading. Venith Crusand hadn’t moved, and his eyes hadn’t shifted from Flos’ face.
“Memory is a strange thing, Venith. Do you have a better reason for seeking my life this time?”
The man on the warhorse stared down at Flos, cold emotions locked behind his eyes.
“Peace for my people. Vengeance, and retribution for an oathbreaker. And an end to your lies.”
Flos sighed. His shoulder slumped slightly, and he stared at Venith with disappointment. Disappointment, and something else. Regret, Trey thought. Or was it guilt?
“Oh? I had hoped to see you before now, Venith. I thought you would be the first to ride through my gates. I waited for you long, old friend.”
“You would have had to wait forever. I did not rejoice to hear you had awakened. And if you had the sense to stay clear of my lands, you would not have forced my hand.”
Venith raised his sword slightly. Flos stared at it.
“You are serious.”
“I do not forgive betrayal. And I swore an oath to take arms against you should you ever wake from your slumber.”
Now Venith rode forwards. He motioned slightly with his shield, and the other mounted soldiers spread out with him. They drew their weapons as well. But…hesitantly. Trey saw one armored warrior riding next to Venith fumble before raising a spear.
Venith didn’t seem to notice. The [Lord] stared at the mob of villagers surrounding Flos.
“Move aside.”
“No, my Lord Venith!”
A man moved to bar Venith’s way. He stared pleadingly up at the [Lord].
“Our King has returned, don’t you see? How could you raise your sword against him?”
Trey heard more voices raised in agreement around him. Venith stared as the villagers moved to protect their King, forming a living wall between him and Flos. His face twisted with fury.
“Silence! You are not his subjects. You are mine! I am your [Lord]! I have ruled you for ten years!”
“But I am their [King].”
Flos strode forwards. The people around him parted unwillingly, but they did move. Flos stood at the head of the villagers, staring up at Venith without fear.
“Pull your warriors back, Venith. The people of Manimar are not tainted by my guilt.”
“Then send them away and face me yourself, coward.”
“No.”
Trey saw Venith blink incredulously. But Flos was calm as he went on.
“I will not let myself die here. But neither will I order my subjects to a slaughter. And neither will you. You are not that sort of man, Venith.”
“You do not know me.”
The [King] met the [Lord]’s eyes steadily.
“Yes. I do. You will not slaughter innocent people here. Pull your forces back and we will settle this in a duel, Venith.”
For a second, Trey thought Venith might order his men to attack. His face was red with fury, but he eventually growled a command. He wheeled his horse and the others did likewise.
All except for one. The rider holding the spear was staring at Flos. Trey had an uneasy feeling. He fought to get closer and realized Teres wasn’t at his side. Where had she gone?
Then his head turned as he heard her voice.
“Look out!”
Teres was standing near the edge of the crowd. She had something in her hands. She hurled it as the mounted rider kicked his horse forwards. She’d thrown a stone, but it was too late. The mounted warrior was shouting as he aimed his spear at Flos’ chest.
“Die, King of Destruction!”
He ducked the thrown rock and raised his spear to impale Flos. The King stared at the rider as he charged at him. He seemed to sigh.
The spear shot forwards as the rider thrust with it. But it stopped as Flos reached out and grabbed the shaft. He didn’t budge, and as the horse continued forwards the spear was locked between the two. The warrior slammed into his saddle and then tumbled off it as his mount’s forward momentum tried to carry him forwards and the spear held him back.
He tumbled off the horse and landed hard on the ground with a crash of armor. At once, the villagers were upon him. Enraged by the attack, they began kicking and stomping on him as he tried to get up.
“Calac!”
Someone shouted that name amid the roars of anger as the rest of the villagers streamed towards the downed warrior. Trey turned his head and saw Venith was riding back, sword in hand. The villagers scattered as he rode through them, striking with the flat of his sword and knocking men and women away.
He dismounted and reached for the fallen figure. At once, the villagers were around him. Venith turned, sword and shield ready, but it was Flos who strode forwards. He stopped the villagers from descending on the two warriors.
“Enough. Let him go.”
“But your Majesty—”
“Let him go. ”
Reluctantly, the people backed away. Flos stared down at Venith; the man was a head shorter than him. Then his eyes went to the warrior who’d tried to kill him. He was still helmeted, but Trey thought he was a younger man.
“Is that your son, Venith? I remember the name. Calac. You wrote to me the day he was born, and I drank to his health. I am happy he is grown, even if his manners are lacking.”
“He is my son. And a fool.”
For all his harsh words, Venith carefully carried his son to his horse. He helped Calac to mount as a second mounted soldier brought a second horse over to Venith. Flos called out to him as Venith put one foot in his stirrups.
“I have never seen his face.”
Venith’s head turned. He did not look grateful. There was fury in his eyes. Fury and dark hatred.
“And you never will.”
He kicked his mount in the sides and he rode out of the village without looking back. Flos watched him go as people shouted curses at Venith’s back. He somehow found Trey, trying to push towards him in the crowd. Flos sighed. And then he rolled his shoulder and stood tall. Because he was a King.
—-
When they were outside of the village and riding towards the rest of the soldiers Venith had brought, he stopped and turned to his son. Calac had taken off his helm, and his face was pale as he rode next to his father. He was bruised on his right cheek and his armor had been dented in places by the villagers.
Venith didn’t waste time with words. He slapped his son across the face with one hand. It wasn’t a heavy blow, but with his gauntlets on it drew blood.
“You idiot.”
Calac’s face was red with embarrassment.
“Father, I could have—”
“You have disgraced yourself and your family’s name! Be silent!”
There was too much memory and guilt in his eyes. Venith turned away as he guided his horse towards his forces. A rank of cavalry waited for him, along with a cluster of armed foot soldiers and archers. But not his [Mage], nor the vast majority of his forces. They had stayed behind rather than take up arms against the man that had been their King.
His mood was black. Venith had no ears for the man who rode up alongside, asking for orders.
“Keep your forces back. Encircle the village, but do not attack, even if provoked.”
“What if he runs? The King?”
Calac flinched as Venith looked at him. For a second his father struggled with the urge to shout, but he controlled his temper. Barely.
“He will not run. Even if he is a shadow of what he was,
that man would not run.”
“But what if he does?”
Too stubborn, and too insolent. Venith felt like he was staring at himself, twenty years ago. He scowled.
“If he does, I will run him down.”
“But if we attacked—”
That was too much. Venith shouted at his son, the first time he had done so in public.
“I will not slaughter my people! And if you draw your sword without my permission again I will disown you. Is that understood?”
Calac’s face went white. He stood still and nodded. Venith turned away.
“We are not without honor, even if he is an oathbreaker. And if we attacked, we would be the ones feeding the crows.”
His soldiers stirred. The younger ones, those who hadn’t ever known the King of Destruction as more than a slumbering legend, looked incredulous. The older ones knew better.
“Don’t underestimate an army of villagers. Don’t underestimate him. He could cut you apart with ease, and he has the Skills to make any battle even. No. I’ll kill him myself.”
Venith turned. It wasn’t his son he looked at, but his oldest retainers. The ones who’d fought with him over a decade ago. They shifted. Some were uneasy. Others wavered. But some had the same anger that burned in Venith’s heart. They understood.
Venith dismounted from his horse.
“Alert me when the King of Destruction moves. It won’t be long.”
He drew his sword and inspected it. Venith knew it was undamaged; he’d sharpened the blade this very morning. And the same went for his shield. But he wanted to take no chances.
One of his men rode towards the village to keep watch on it. The burning torches made visibility hard, but Venith knew the King would not run. He wouldn’t. Even as weak as he was, he would not. And so he would come out, and Venith would make him pay for betrayal.
The man’s hands shook as he lifted his shield. He stared at the village, trying to summon more of the white-hot fury that had gripped him when he’d heard the words he’d despaired of hearing ever again. But there wasn’t any anger when he reached for it. Just a kind of emptiness—no, a lack of anything at all. He reached into his chest and felt nothing at all.
So it was with a kind of dread that Venith stood, waiting for his King. He stared at the village and remembered another sight, one far more bitter than the time they had first met.
