Ice Dragon Tales

by Hurri Cosmo

  Of course he had been there, to the dungeons. It was something he had done once it was eminent he would be king. He'd toured all of the areas where guards were stationed and where criminals of all levels were kept. He'd seen the torture rooms, the weapons rooms, and the tack rooms. He'd seen where the soldiers trained their bodies and where they trained with their weapons. He'd wanted to make sure he was aware of all of the defenses and offenses and also the weaknesses of the castle. A king would know such things. He knew his father never did.

  And now he didn't need to either.

  He didn't even have the right to put his mother on trial.

  He decided then, he would ride to Claymoor Doom. His mother could wait. Everything could wait until the real king came home.

  The real king.

  Joron.

  Not only was Joron now the real king, but he also was no longer his half brother. It should excite him. It should take away all of the guilt and anxiety of his lust for him. But the simple fact was that Joron was in love with Aric. As painful as it was, he saw it in Joron's eyes and in his actions when they rescued him. It truly had been Diagus who'd figured it out, who'd found them, who'd taken out the asshole who'd thought he could hurt Joron. It was Diagus who had saved him. But it was Aric Joron had turned to, Aric's shoulder he'd cried on, his strong arms he'd clung to. And it was obvious the big man had to have strong feelings for Joron as well, for him to have walked headlong into Diagus's castle to claim him, knowing he was not welcome by any one of its citizens.

  How could Diagus compete with that?

  Beyond that, how could he not allow for Joron to be happy? He marveled at himself then, because in the past it would not have mattered. In the past he would have only taken without any thought to the desires of the other. He didn't care, since love was never involved, only lust and need. But with Joron it was different. Lust was there, lust was overwhelming, but on some deep, primal level, he was also in love with Joron. As much as it hurt, as much as it killed him to do it, he wanted Joron to be happy, and the only way Diagus could give that to him was to give him to Aric.

  Love truly sucked.

  Suddenly there was commotion in the hallway. He dashed out to see his mother running off in a flurry of robes, two of the men, one of his and one of Aric's, on the floor. Aric's man was scrambling to get up.

  "What the hell happened?" Diagus stammered.

  "She..."

  Aric's guard was holding his stomach, and when his hand came away, it was covered in blood. Diagus looked to his own man who was still on the floor and he did the same thing but when his hand came away, it was obvious he was bleeding more profusely. Diagus was shocked his mother was able to move that fast, swiftly disappearing as the other two guards, regaining their composure, took off after her. He was also surprised that she must have been carrying a hidden knife. He didn't know his mother would have had the thought to carry one, much less the ability and talent to use one. Clearly, even these four well-trained men had been caught totally off guard. Diagus quickly called his own man back from chasing after Erora. Aric's man looked back briefly, and hearing no new order from Diagus for himself, he continued his pursuit.

  "Get medical help for these men." He shouted to the returning man. "I will go after my mother." He sprinted off in the direction he saw the other two go, now out of sight. He hoped he could catch up.

  He ran down the hall and rounded the corner, seeing both his mother and the guard were now bounding up a winding staircase to one of the towers. What the hell was his mother thinking? There would be absolutely no escape from there. And to fall from its height would surely kill her. She would be caught like a rat. With a hand on his sword, he bounded up those same stairs. He was in shape. The guard he followed behind was also in shape. But as he ran up, going round and round and round, he wondered how the hell his mother was still out ahead of them. She had talents he was totally unaware of, strength that was belied by her visible daily activity. Maybe it had come from the need to keep all of the secrets she was harboring. It had to be an incredible burden. Still, it surprised him. He wasn't sure how many more surprises he was going to tolerate today.

  Finally, he reached the top. The tower itself was not very large--it was meant to simply house the guard. There was a small table and chair and one cot off to the side. It had a high roof held up by four sturdy stone pillars but the rest was open to the elements. It was meant to be a place that could keep two guards on duty, awake and alert, in times of trouble. He knew that. He had toured it--when he was to be king.

  He came into the room, seeing the standoff between Aric's guard and his mother. She had her bloody knife held out from her and was leaning hard up against the wall of the tower, which was approximately four feet high. Since it was wide open, the wind blew through unhindered. She leaned out slightly over the edge and looked down, as if contemplating a jump. The guard, sword drawn, stood about six feet back from her. By the slight change in his stance, Diagus knew he was aware of Diagus's entrance.

  "Mother! There's nowhere to go. Give up."

  "No! I will not go to the dungeons. I would rather die." She waved the knife, arching her back slightly to reach farther. It was for show only, since the guard she was threatening was nowhere close enough to make it a viable peril.

  "You killed the king! You killed your own husband. You deserve to die." Diagus came to the side of Aric's guard, who stood steady and sure, only subtly shifting his sword to include Diagus in his protection.

  "Then kill me. I can't do this anymore." Tears spilled freely down her face.

  She said the words but Diagus highly doubted she meant them. She was still trying her damnedest to get Diagus to pull her out of this. Did she think he would feel pity for her? Did she truly believe he would be grateful to her for making him king when he had no right to that title?

  Evidently she did.

  Once again, she was wrong.

  "No. You can't and you won't. Drop the knife. You'll be tried, but I've decided not by me. I have no right any longer to do that. You'll wait for the real king."

  She only stared at him, wide-eyed, with her mouth slightly open. Diagus stood taller then. For some reason, he was okay with the fact he was no longer the king. It actually felt good to submit to another, if that "another" was Joron. He was looking forward to standing beside him while he judged her. To no longer be responsible for that action, almost made it worth losing the crown.

  "No! I would rather die here. Now." She turned, gathered her dress and quickly climbed to the top of the ledge that was barely a foot wide. The guard made no move to approach her, even when she turned her back. It was obvious the man waited on direction from Diagus. The man had to be confused. But it was not all that hard to continue to defer to Diagus, who was still in charge of this castle, even if he had no real authority.

  "Fine." Diagus didn't care. He was finding he truly didn't care. "Jump. If you want to do it, then you best get it done."

  She drew herself up to her full height, turning her head toward Diagus. She looked directly into Diagus's eyes. "You...you mean...you won't stop me?"

  "Who am I to stop you? Really, Mother, who do you think I am? The king?" He turned on his heel and headed back for the stairs. To Aric's guard, he said, "Either take her into custody or force her to jump. I don't care which. Report to me when it's done."

  He stopped on the seventeenth stair going down when he heard her scream. The scream faded fast before it was cut off suddenly and then there was silence. Shortly afterward, he heard the sounds of Aric's guard on the stairs, his footsteps a bit slower than Diagus's. He waited for the man to catch up to him. Diagus looked back up at him.

  "What happened?"

  "Your majesty, I...I simply tried... She jerked away...and fell."

  Diagus slowly nodded. "I see." He turned to continue his descent, Aric's guard following. "And you must know this by now. I am not the king. I cannot be addressed as 'your majesty' anymore."

  "Yes, Your ma... I mean
...your highness."

  Diagus sighed. So his mother was dead. He should feel something. But he didn't. She had been vile and disgusting, greedy and sick. And now she was dead.

  That was fine.

  Because Joron was coming home.

  Chapter 7

  They all slept like the dead--all except Nochi, who insisted on being the lookout, along with a handpicked crew, though the king protested. He also stood right next to the king's tent. He was going to make sure, personally, his king and Prince Joron were safe. Unlike Aric, he was not as convinced they would not be followed, and though the runners sent back at different intervals all came back with reports of no movement from the castle Blade Rain, he was still going to be cautious. He promised his king he would sleep soon, but not until he was less concerned with attack, and around two in the morning, he finally allowed himself to believe they were secure. He and the rest of his troops lay down, leaving four men on duty, forming the tight perimeter. He set his internal clock to wake him in two hours, along with commanding the lead man on the post detail to also wake him then as well. His man would comply, but he also knew he had to be specific since the soldier, knowing his commanding officer needed the rest, would allow him to sleep longer if he could get away with it. But Nochi knew he would neither disregard nor ignore a direct order.

  Things had changed between Joron and Aric, like something had finally clicked into place. He wondered briefly if either one of them noticed it. Nochi was glad and sad at the same time. He was happy for his king. He truly liked Prince Joron and thought he was good for Aric. But as happy as he was for his king, he was feeling lonely for himself. He still wondered whatever had become of Momisa. He still could think of no one else and found himself searching for her everywhere. In a passing caravan, in an obscure town through which they traveled, even in the servant's quarters once again at Blade Rain castle, believing it was possible she had returned. But he never saw her. And as much as he wanted to be able to ask about her, he refused, though his king no longer seemed to have an interest. It would not be appropriate. He knew his place.

  He finally allowed sleep to overtake him. He still needed to see his charges home. He would need rest in order to be fully alert, but two hours would be fine enough for that. After all, he was a soldier first.

  But maybe someday...

  Dawn came heavily with the threat of rain. The party broke camp quickly and headed north toward the pass. They would arrive at the entrance later that morning and be able to pass through it, camping once more on the other side, a good seven or so hours into home territory. Nochi put a number of his men out front after setting the pace, then dropped back to remain by Aric's side. Aric never questioned his authority. He held tightly to his prize, though once again Nochi offered Joron his own horse. Aric made it clear it wasn't needed. Joron's slight body made little to no difference on Aric's steed. He would have insisted a bit harder if he thought it hindered them in any way, but there were benefits to having Joron riding with the king. It kept Aric calm by holding Joron, but it also made him stay back and surrounded for once, allowing him to also be guarded and safe.

  Nochi noticed they chatted softly, laughed gently, caressed each other and occasionally kissed. Yes, things had changed. Maybe now Joron would not be the escape artist that had driven Aric crazy before. Maybe now the young prince would settle down and listen for a change. Maybe his fire would be put to use elsewhere and Nochi would no longer have to worry about him.

  Yes indeed, and on Tuesday, pigs would take to flight.

  * * * *

  Diagus slept well. A deep sleep, though his heart ached for all he had lost. For some reason, it seemed to matter that he'd lost his father--or the man he'd called father--not only to death but also as a father at all. He vaguely wondered who his real father was. He should have asked what duke, from what province. Not that it mattered. It was obvious the man didn't know, or if he did, he had never tried to cash in on it. But, of course, he might actually be one of the casualties in his mother's quest to make him king. Still, he'd lost the man he'd believed all his life was his father.

  But, of course, he had lost his father well before this anyway, first to that damn disease called love and then when that went bad, to lust and greed. And no one stopped him because he was the king. Had no one cared at all?

  Yes, the man put himself on his road to self-destruction but somebody should have cared. They all watched from the sidelines, equally afraid to step in, and laughing cruelly at the fact that riches and power meant nothing when it came to the affairs of the heart or weaknesses of the body and mind. But every single one of them who stood and watched so dispassionately would have taken the wealth and status in a heartbeat.

  His mother, on the other hand, had suffered from the disease of lust from the day she was born and then slowly slipped into madness. And yet again, no one stopped her. But in the case of his mother, it was definitely due to the fact people were scared to death of her--apparently for good reason. Her good graces--and whether or not you were in them--truly did mean life or death after all. He could finally see that now.

  Dead now, too, after losing everything she perceived to be important.

  Then there was Joron--beautiful, gentle, kind Joron. Diagus realized now he should have never left on that stupid three-year stint. If he had stayed, Joron would be his, and, it turned out, it would have been fine. They were not related. Wasn't that just a kick in the groin? Diagus didn't much care what people thought, but Joron did, and now it was something he never had to think about again. Had he lost him to Aric? It sure seemed like he had. If only he had known and been able to tell Joron when he was in his bed, finally in his bed. But, alas, he'd thought he had the luxury of time. He did nothing to claim him, nothing to make Joron his.

  Then finally, himself. He'd never wanted to care. He'd wanted to be the same as his parents and wallow in lovers and food and just plain debauchery. He'd tried. He was as obnoxious as any traveling royal could ever be on his three-year trek through the kingdoms. But he'd ended up caring more than he ever thought possible. Part of it was his need to prove to Joron he could do it, and the other part... Well, maybe Joron was the only reason. There certainly couldn't be anything noble in his bones, could there be? He had to admit, the thought of having Joron look at him--even one more time--like he did that time in the hallway, to smile that smile... Yeah, he could do noble. But now that was lost, too. Gone. Like the fleeting breeze or a gentle wave.

  However, after all of that, there was still one good reality he could think about.

  Joron was coming home.

  He would have to come home to rule. He had figured it all out. Joron would be the wise, kind, caring king Blade Rain had always needed and Diagus would be the one to do any of the dirty work. It was simply not something Joron was capable of doing, and if he was, Diagus had no intention of letting him. He would not allow Joron to tarnish his reputation. The people loved him too much. If they could not be a team in bed, they would be a team on the throne. He would offer his submissiveness, the only submissiveness he would ever have, to Joron. Then Diagus would beg Joron to use him in any way he felt necessary. And maybe... just maybe...

  It was that thought alone that allowed sleep to come. He had already dispatched a runner to Claymoor Doom with the news of the queen's death. He held no hope the runner would catch up to the party. The news would hit them shortly after they arrived at Aric's castle. Diagus knew Aric would send word of what they would do. Diagus guessed they would sleep a couple of days, then head back once again. When they arrived, Diagus would then tell them the bigger news. Yes, these thoughts would let sleep overtake him. There was still some slight hope life would not necessarily stink as much as he had begun to think it would. If he could simply be at Joron's side, he would ask for no more.

  He would try for more, try with all of his heart. But he would never ask.

  * * * *

  Aric wanted to hold Joron. But he had a kingdom to run as well. He had been
gone for only a few days, but in that time, things had happened that needed his attention and as much as he wanted to simply push Joron onto the nearest bed--or up against the nearest wall--he had to once again wait. The Duke of Wyrm Shire was supposedly in the castle. Wyrm Shire was a village on the most northern edge of the Kingdom of Claymoor Doom and the duke had been "battling" what he called an invasion into his lands from Amberlaven. At first, Aric had taken it seriously and had sent peacekeeping troops and negotiators immediately, but his intelligence officers came back confused. There had been no invasion but simply a small uprising of disgruntled villagers. It seemed the duke had raised taxes exorbitantly, blamed the king, but flaunted riches, making at least a few of his citizens suspicious. Aric had turned his troops on the duke, forcing him to give back the ill-gotten gains through food stuff and other needed items and he'd called his troops home.

  Now, it seemed, the duke was angered and came to talk secession from the crown, according to what his brother, Prince Relel, had said. As if the man had that kind of power. But power or not, it was something Aric had to deal with now. As irritated as he was at the interruption, he also knew he had most recently allowed his obsession with Joron to overtake a serious amount of his time. His brother made it perfectly clear the people were noticing and were upset, and Aric's own guilty conscience told him it was true. He had Joron now. He was safe and in his care and would soon be in his arms. He could relax. Nothing else would go wrong. He would take care of this foolish duke, maybe strip him of his title, because that would definitely end this ridiculous, nearly treasonous, act. He would meet first with his advisors. They would have already checked into who they could bestow the title on and he would hopefully agree with them so he could get this over with.