Kings or Pawns (Steps of Power 1)

by Sherwood, J. J.

  In the light of the sun’s golden rays, even surrounded by all the nobility of Sevrigel and splendor of the temple, Hairem could see nothing but his bride.

  The priest stepped forward, raising his hands up to the goddess and speaking loudly.

  “Goddess of the Elven Kingdom, Second Comer of Emal’drathar, Sovereign Queen of Justice, we, the nation of Sevrigel, stand before you on this day to testify to the holy union of King Hairem, second of his royal bloodline, son of late-king Liadeltris and late-queen Rumel of Elvorium, to Lady Ilsevel, daughter of El’adorium Nilanis Esterel and late-lady Losaldra of Elarium.” He then faced them, speaking softer and lowering his hands. “We have testified.”

  Hairem stood, pulling Ilsevel to her feet. “My body, my mind, and my soul are yours. If you die, I die. If you live, I shall live. Forever and always my life is yours. In the eyes of Sel’ari I have said this. In the eyes of Sel’ari may I be bound to this.”

  He could see Ilsevel falter, gripping his hands tightly. A glimmer shone at the corner of her eyes, and her lips trembled as she fought back her elation. “My body, my mind, and my soul are yours. If you die, I die. If you live, I shall live. Forever and always my life is yours. In the eyes of Sel’ari I have said this. In the eyes of Sel’ari may I be bound to this.”

  Hairem smiled gently and tightened his grip on her hands.

  “Exchange the tokens of your covenant,” the priest ordered, offering his hands to them.

  Hairem picked up the golden chain dangling with a phoenix of blue garnet. Alone, it was the elegant and twisted side view of Sel’ari’s symbol. Ilsevel offered the mirrored image. Together, they linked as a single completed phoenix.

  In unison, they clasped the necklace around one another and interlocked the two phoenixes.

  “What Sel’ari has bound is as eternal as the goddess herself. We all hold witness to this. And so it is so.”

  Ilsevel finally could contain her smile no longer and Hairem swiftly raised his hand to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. He chuckled softly and turned her toward the nobility, pride swelling in him at the wonder of his new wife.

  For the first time they stood as one, King Hairem and Queen Ilsevel of the kingdom of Sevrigel, the first true kings of their age.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “The troops are looking excellent, Captain,” Jikun smiled at his captain as he handed Reivel the shirt of his indigo uniform. He paused to observe the vast expanse of field before him, spotted only with the occasional small tree that struggled to drop the last of its leaves onto the long grass of the field. Off to his left, the floor of the southern ridge fell away suddenly to the great canyon that lay before Elvorium. That day, the mist had become a cloud of fog over the forest and river far below, blanketing them in a smoky white.

  “That’s all the training for now,” Reivel called back to the large group of troops spread out across the field. He nodded once again, pulling his shirt on over his glistening chest. “Not too long ago I couldn’t imagine doing this again—I was certain we were all to die in that swamp!” Reivel continued, his face creasing deeply around his typical blue eyes—he was another Sel’ven, after all—as he smiled. “The effect on the soldiers of being out of that swamp and having the care of Elvorium’s healers is remarkable. Of course, we’re still focused on strength training—they have a lot to regain. But they are alive.”

  “And looking practically perfect,” Jikun reassured his enthusiasm in militaristic fashion. His gaze scanned the males gathering their shirts and swords, groaning to one another about how overworked they were. Despite his frustrations, he had never heard anything more beautiful. Reivel was right—since having returned to Elvorium the recovery rate of his troops had increased ten-fold.

  And yet, the smile on his face felt forced and the weight on his chest threatened to pull him down. It should have been Navon in Reivel’s place. Navon training the recovering troops.

  But Navon was in prison, awaiting execution.

  His new captain tousled his long, blond hair to cool his head and glanced across the misty canyon toward the palace. “Did you make it to the ceremony?” he continued in a conversationalist manner.

  Jikun scoffed. Navon would have asked such a thing cautiously. He could imagine Navon’s inquisitive eyes, his almost reproachful tone. He knew how he felt about the king. The wedding had been nearly five weeks ago and yet Jikun had not spoken a word about it. “Navon, the ceremony was held in the abominable temple of that witch—”

  “GENERAL,” Reivel gasped in offense, his blue eyes wide in horror, as though the goddess herself was standing beside them.

  Jikun carried on as though unbroken, “—and was the ceremony of King Hairem to a female I know nothing of… except she had the indecency to marry him. Of course I did not attend.” He started, the voice beside him slow to register. He turned his head, seeing Captain Reivel muttering a fervent and prayerful apology below his breath.

  Jikun gave him a moment to reply, unsure of how to correct his harsh words. “You shouldn’t say such heretical things,” Reivel rebuked sternly. He waved a hand as though attempting to dismiss the blasphemy Jikun had just spewed. “I did attend the ceremony. Lady Ilsevel looked stunning. I can hardly imagine a more beautiful lady in all the realms. She is also the first elven queen to be so prominently involved in politics. I heard she even attends the council meetings with the king. …That is certainly a new direction for my people.”

  ‘My people,’ Jikun thought, noting the possessive. He glanced sidelong at the male before him. ‘I preferred you as a lieutenant.’ He turned slightly, muttering below his breath, “Well, beauty does not equal wit.”

  “What was that, General?” Reivel replied absentmindedly. He was staring off across the canyon, probably lost in some idolatry gaze toward the queen’s direction.

  Jikun followed his gaze to the towers beside the bridge where, not long before, the city had looked down on the army as Hairem emerged to greet them. He scowled and turned away, his forced attempt to enjoy the pleasant mood quickly leaving him. Hairem had come out, despite what he knew of the plague. Jikun could give him some consideration for that had he also not been the same male who had sent them to their deaths to begin with… and then left them to rot.

  “General. General?” Reivel was saying.

  Jikun had not heard him. He had been distracted lately. But it was with the knowledge that he was sixty thousand soldiers down and Saebellus had undoubtedly received word of their crippling loss. Even with those that survived on the path to recovery, the condition of the army was hardly comparable to its former might. The next battle with Saebellus would be a battle that could determine the outcome of the war, and he was considerably weaker than ever.

  “General!” Reivel barked; this time his voice was firm.

  Jikun stopped and turned. “What is it?” he demanded, caught off guard by his captain’s force. In just a few months, the skinny little Sel’ven had already adjusted to his promotion, barking orders and addressing Jikun as though he had all the familiarity of Navon.

  Reivel pointed toward the bridge dusted in the canyon’s mist. Jikun followed his finger.

  “How coincidental,” Jikun muttered, eyes falling where the captain’s finger indicated.

  “I’ve been trying to tell you, General,” Reivel replied, sighing slightly and shaking his head in almost disappointment.

  Jikun straightened and gestured sharply for Reivel to follow. “Come. Someone may need to hold me back from him,” he spoke through a warning growl. Jikun had not seen the king since he had attacked him on the bridge. That was over two months ago now, wasn’t it? The king had certainly given him a wide berth. In Darival, he had picked a physical fight with more than one of the nobility and had risen the next day without a mark of punishment. But in Elvorium, he knew he was fortunate to not have been put to death—the Sel’varian management of disrespect was far more… permanent.

  “General Jikun,” Hairem greeted with the sam
e, ever-broad and charming smile as Jikun and Reivel came to a halt before him at the edge of the southern bridge. Despite their last confrontation, Jikun still detected what seemed to be a genuine level of affection in the king’s voice. Whether he wanted to or not, Jikun found himself feeling slightly humbled by it.

  He bowed stiffly in respect, somewhat more readily after his last outburst toward the king. Slipping up twice might be the last time his unruly behavior was tolerated by the southern pricks. “King Hairem, I want to apologize for my behavior when we spoke last,” Jikun began before his pride had a chance to stop him. “My soldiers—”

  “General, think nothing of it. I asked you to treat me as an equal when speaking about political matters. I would have been offended with anything less than your entire honesty… temper and all.”

  Jikun straightened, feeling the surprise clearly etched across his face, the ease drawing his shoulders down.

  “As I spoke before,” Hairem continued before Jikun could offer a verbal response, “it was my own attempts at self-preservation that made me weak to oppose them to begin with. I will forever have your army’s blood on my hands. There is no apology that I can make equal to the weight of guilt that I feel. The responsibility was mine and I failed.” Jikun could see the pain in the king’s eyes even as his lips reformed into a politically practiced smile of charm for the captain.

  No, not for the captain… for Jikun.

  He saw the king’s eyes flick toward him and in that brief moment, Jikun caught an unexpected depth of regret and sorrow. For Navon’s sake. And, whether he wished to fully admit it to himself or not, Hairem had spared his life when he had attacked him on the bridge…

  Jikun felt his hatred mitigated slightly by the king’s sincerity. ‘It was your people that sentenced him,’ he wanted to hiss.

  Hairem turned away slowly and faced Reivel. “Congratulations on the new position, Captain. I am certain you will serve your general well. I have heard excellent things about your days in the academy and even further good reports from the army itself.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Jikun heard Reivel reply, though his thoughts had pulled him elsewhere. “Your words honor me.”

  Hairem paused to let his compliment bare some mark on time, then pivoted toward the encampment, gesturing to the white tents. “May we three speak privately?”

  Jikun refocused on the world around them and nodded, turning and leading the two toward his tent. After his initial weakness on the bridge, he had been moved into the larger tent of the general’s quarters. Hairem had been correct when he had spoken that no expense was spared: his tent was furnished as though it had been made for royalty itself. A long, ornately carved wooden table from the southern cities lay situated in the middle between a shelf of fine, vintage wines and a gold-inlaid chest of drawers filled with political papers and clothes.

  “I see you have tested all the wines. Have a seat,” Hairem ordered, slowly dropping his lean body into the high-backed chair at the head of the table. He produced a long piece of parchment from his back waistline, tapping it on the table once as though the general and captain were not already at attention. “I have some news of military importance, and I would like to help the army devise a strategy—if I can be of any assistance.” His jewel-encrusted hands stretched the crisp parchment out, pressing a finger onto Sevrigel’s southwestern coastline. “Elarium. While Ilsevel was captured she heard Saebellus and his men mention Elarium. When she returned, we sent scouts along the countryside toward the city. Over the last two weeks, Saebellus has started to move a small contingent of troops out of the Halls of Horiembrig toward the southwestern coast. It’s all very discreet, but we currently assume that the southern capital is his next target.”

  ‘Who is “we”?’ Jikun wanted to ask for the clarification of which non-military minds had been consulted before him, but refrained. “A small contingent to take the southern capital?” Jikun sat back, frowning. “He thinks he can take Elarium with a small contingent? Exactly how small are we talking?”

  Hairem reclined in his chair, the parchment rolling back together. “Forty thousand…”

  Jikun’s eyes widened briefly in surprise. ‘Forty thousand…?’ he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, imagining the troops slipping from Horiembrig by a southern route, away from prying eyes along the river front. He would have followed his guessed trail along the map, but Hairem had let it fall closed as though its use was merely for appearance’s sake. “Forty thousand? That leaves only twenty or thirty thousand guarding Horiembrig…” he trailed off.

  Reivel raised his brows in similar surprise. “Forty thousand?” he echoed. “If we take just the troops who didn’t go to the swamp, that’s ninety thousand soldiers. We could leave the rest here and even if the army from Horiembrig marched immediately to attack Elvorium, they’d never defeat the city’s defenses.”

  ‘The bottomless canyon. The endless bridges. There is no doubt about that…’ Jikun nodded once, though there was hesitation in his motion. “What is Saebellus thinking?” he muttered to himself, tapping the table. Saebellus was easy enough to find before a fight, but he never entered an encounter he could not escape from: not once had they found his army after a battle. Saebellus was only seen again when he wanted to be seen. Had he slipped up, or was he inviting Jikun to engage him at Elarium? Jikun bit the tip of his thumb as his mind whisked him toward the coast. With the sea to Saebellus’ back, if Jikun and his army marched from the northeast, the warlord would either be forced into the ocean or would have to flee south toward the swamps: either way boded ill for Saebellus’ troops.

  Was Elarium worth it?

  “Perhaps… he is making a mistake?” Reivel began slowly, but Jikun could hear the skepticism in his voice. And perhaps even a hint of fear. There was nothing more frightening than the unknown aspect of the battle. This Jikun knew full well—and his recent excursion in the swamp had only helped to emphasize this.

  ‘No,’ Jikun could hear Navon’s words of caution. ‘Saebellus is too intelligent.’

  Jikun bit his thumbnail. “No,” he spoke after a moment. “Saebellus is too intelligent to make a mistake like that.” He unrolled the map again, studying it closely. “What are we not seeing?” ‘What terrain is Saebellus playing off of this time…?’

  Hairem leaned over as well, studying the map intensely, his blue eyes straining to see something hidden in the ink. Suddenly he smacked the table, the candles shaking in their holders with his abrupt elation. “The True Blood tunnels! Sellemar and Erallus used one to rescue Ilsevel. It could be that Saebellus knows of one leading into Elarium—the coastal capital is no doubt equipped with such a passage. They could use it to take the city by surprise. Add the component of the darkness of night and Elarium would fall within hours.” He sounded a bit breathless as he finished, looking up at the two of them with wide eyes. It was clearly a boy’s first taste of military planning.

  But Jikun had to admit, the plan sounded strong. Owning Sevrigel’s sea-bound capital would certainly give Saebellus a strong hold on either side of the continent. Whether he chose to merely seize Elarium’s trade or use her ships in future battles, the results would swing heavily in his favor. Jikun pursed his lips. “But… a True Blood Tunnel? How would Saebellus know of the True Blood Tunnels?”

  Hairem interlocked his fingers as he bit his lip. “Perhaps he found information of them inside the Halls of Horiembrig. You know that it was once the most influential city on Sevrigel. It would not surprise me that, if one dug deep enough, you could find information about the tunnels. If not that, then I can only assume that Saebellus was privy to this information while in the military. His captain, Vale, was once a close friend of the True Blood Prince Darcarus and received a substantial portion of his training personally from the prince. Perhaps he learned more than combat from him. And maybe that is unlikely, but how he knows hardly seems relevant… Of course, I make no suggestion that I understand the workings of war.”

  So Saebellus
was trying to remain covert for now. If it had not been for Ilsevel’s information, like Horiembrig, Elarium would have fallen without a fight. “This would explain why he took so few soldiers,” Jikun agreed after a moment’s consideration. “If we can be waiting for him when he emerges from the tunnel, or alert Elarium to the egress and then come around behind him, Saebellus and his army will be trapped.”

  He looked up, his chest growing tight. Was this the beginning of Saebellus’ end?

  “First, however, if we are going to pincer him in, I need to know where the True Blood tunnel is,” he spoke, forcing the exhilaration down.

  Hairem hesitated, embarrassment clouding his features. “I… don’t know where the True Blood tunnel is…”

  Jikun blinked, sitting back against the dense wood sharply. “What? You’re Sevrigel’s king. What do you mean you don’t know where the True Blood tunnel is? …If you don’t know, who would?”

  Hairem stiffened in defense. “When King Silandrus left, his family took the knowledge of the tunnels with them. But perhaps…” Hairem paused. “Perhaps Sellemar.”

  Reivel raised a brow. “Sellemar? Who is Sellemar?”

  “I don’t know,” Hairem admitted, seeming embarrassed further by his growing lack of knowledge. “But he seems to have very close ties with King Sairel.”

  Jikun slid his chair back abruptly, standing. “I can’t make any plans to deal with Saebellus until I know about this tunnel. Where can I find this Sellemar?” He could hear the frustration seeping into his tone, but Hairem could not expect anything different. How could the king of Sevrigel not know the royal escape and entry routes into the capital cities?! Had everyone failed to ask the information or had Silandrus and his sons simply refused to share it? ‘Imbeciles, either way!’