by Jordan Baker
"Why?" Brian asked, lowering his voice as they passed a group of soldiers, who were out patrolling the streets. "If Cerric was killed, that would mean someone else would rule the kingdom, maybe that princess, Ariana. If she were in power, then wouldn't the person who got her there be a hero?"
"It doesn't work that way, Brian," Jax told him. "Nobles and rulers and such don't like it when those in power get murdered. If they applauded an assassin, it would tell people that murdering leaders is acceptable, and there would be no end to people trying to kill them."
"But if there's a good ruler, why would anyone want to kill them?"
Jax turned and looked at Brian with half of a smile on his face.
"Blessing upon you, Brian," he said with a dry laugh. "It doesn't matter how righteous, just or beloved any ruler might be, there's always going to be some folks who don't like them. It isn't just about how good they are, it's also about alliances, wealth and power, and no ruler can please everyone. There will always be some who think they've been snubbed or get jealous because they think someone else is getting favored by the high and mighty."
"But that happens anyway," Brian said. "When that Baron Manfred got favored by Cerric and took Kaleb's lands, there was fighting and killing to take them back."
"That's right, but it was done in the open," Jax told him. "No one crept into Manfred's bedroom and stuck him with a dagger. He and his soldiers fought and lost, and we took back White Falls."
"And now there's an army camped outside the walls."
"That's right," Jax said. "They're there, Fergus and the lads have got the people safe inside the walls of the keep, and we're here, looking to make a mess of things for Cerric's army."
"And a lot more people are going to die because of the war," Brian said. "If Cerric wasn't king anymore, then there'd be no war."
"Perhaps," Jax said. "Or there'd be a lot of folks being killed in their sleep, poisoned at their tables, and knifed in the street."
"Then why did you say you liked Pike's idea about killing Cerric?" Brian asked.
"I said I liked him," Jax replied. "Besides, he's a Xallan, and they do things differently in those lands."
"But if it's wrong to murder a king, shouldn't it be wrong no matter where you are or where you're from?" Brian asked. "Just because Pike's a Xallan doesn't make it right."
"No, it doesn't make it right, but since Cerric has chosen to welcome the Xallan Queen as his wife then he can take everything that comes along with her."
"So you do agree that someone should kill Cerric," Brian said, still a bit confused.
"Oh, I certainly do," Jax said. "I just don't think it's the right way to go about it. Sneaking about killing people is not a good way to solve the problems of a kingdom."
"But you sneak about and steal things," Brian reminded him. "Shouldn't you be a bandit instead of a thief?"
"I don't steal lands, and I don't steal lives, Brian," Jax said. "Things aren't so easy and simple as you might want them to be. Every situation is different, so you can't just take a single rule and apply it to everything the same way."
"So it is different if Cerric dies in battle than if he is killed by Pike," Brian said.
"It is," Jax said. "Don't get me wrong, Brian. I wouldn't shed a tear if Cerric were to die, by any means, but I'd rather that the person who would accomplish such a service to the world do it in an honorable way, so the people can celebrate and call them as a hero instead of wondering how many other snakes might be sneaking around."
"I'm going to have to think about some of these things," Brian said.
"Good," Jax replied. "I have thought about it a lot. You know that my family were assassins for generations."
"Really?" Brian was surprised since Jax did not seem to like the idea.
"When Cerric's brother, King Gregor was crowned, we gave up the trade. It was supposed to be a new age, a more peaceful time, and it was for a while, until King Gregor and Queen Aria were murdered"
"Wasn't it a fire that killed them, caused by magic?" Brian tried to remember the stories he had heard.
"That's what Cerric claimed because he wanted to discredit the Council of Mages," Jax told him. "The truth is that they were murdered by an assassin."
"Really? How do you know?"
"Because Cerric tried to accuse my father of being the assassin, and if anything hold true about Cerric, if he's pointing a finger at someone, then he's likely got a hand in things," Jax said, and he frowned, thinking about things that had weighed heavily in his thoughts for many years. "My father swore an oath to Gregor to protect him and his family, and no one in my family would betray such an oath."
"The world is a lot more complicated than I ever imagined," Brian said. "I miss the days back on the farm when things were simple."
"The world was just as complicated then as they are now," Jax told him. "The only difference was that you didn't know about it."
"I suppose you're right," Brian said. "Should we try to stop Pike from what he wants to do?"
"You can try if you want," Jax said. "Pike is a clever fellow, but he is going to get himself killed if he tries anything with Cerric."
"And what if we have a chance to do something?" Brian asked.
"That's a decision you will have to make for yourself, Brian. My plan is to get recruited into Cerric's army and try to find Kaleb. If it's true that he and a bunch of Maramyrian soldiers have allied with Princess Ariana, who is the rightful ruler of Maramyr, then I'd rather help them win the war and let them deal with Cerric and Calexis, for that matter."
"Kings and queens killing kings and queens, and the rest of us bleed on the battlefield," Brian said.
"That has long been the way of things."
CHAPTER TEN
Ehlena opened her eyes and saw Stroma leaning against a large tree, staring at her with a look of consternation on his face. His expression changed almost immediately and he smiled, then he walked over to her as she stood from the fallen log where she had been sitting in the gloom of the dark, swampy forest.
"The sandstorms should last for at least a day," she told him as they began making their way through the trees. "I think I will have the strength to stir the desert winds again if need be."
"Good," Stroma said. "If Kenra gets a hold of Aaron before we collect all the books, things will become much more difficult."
"They are safe for now," Ehlena said. "I do not remember it being so exhausting creating such a storm."
"Our powers were greater then." Stroma stepped over a patch of mud and held out his hand to Ehlena and helped her across. "We lost much when the ethereal paths were severed, and our temples are no longer frequented as they once were."
"It is true," Ehlena replied, though she wondered how much power Stroma might have lost. At least she still had followers in places like Aghlar, whose prayers and words of thanks were like little gifts of life that fed into her power. "It is still very odd to know that people worship me as a goddess, and to hear so many voices on the wind."
"It is very disappointing to know how few still pay respect to me as a god," Stroma told her. "But, I suppose it is to be expected, considering that I essentially disappeared for a thousand years or so."
"Things have changed in many ways."
"And for the worse, to my mind," Stroma said as he walked from the rough trail onto a wide road of enormous, cut stone blocks that ran through the forest. "At least some of the old roads are still here."
They continued on through the forest and it opened up to a wide open plain that would have been bare, if it were not for the many hundreds of tents and thousands of soldiers camped outside the walls of the city atop a rise beyond them. As Stroma and Ehlena walked unseen through the army encampment they noticed a number of lizard men ordering the regular soldiers around, and it seemed very much that the Darga were in charge. The city gates were guarded heavily and almost exclusively by Darga troops, and when Ehlena and Stroma made their way past, they were surprised at what they saw
inside the city walls.
Xalla Prime, the capital city of the surrounding lands no longer appeared to be inhabited by its own people. The only Xallans inside the walls appeared to be prisoners, none of whom had the look of soldiers, but appeared to be frightened people who had been rounded up and bound in chains. The Darga inside the walls looked different from the ones outside, many of them much larger than their counterparts and some of them with wings, hanging like leathery capes on their backs.
"These creatures are different," Ehlena said as they walked through the streets, past groups of Darga soldiers. "They are far more powerful than the others."
"Indeed, they have changed," Stroma said. "Somehow they are becoming like their ancestors, which is very concerning."
They passed through the palace gates and entered the vast courtyard to find a scene that shocked them both. The cut stone cobbles were stained black and red with wet and drying blood. Chained prisoners huddled together in long lines that were pushed along by Darga guards. Ehlena and Stroma saw one of the prisoners, a young woman in tattered clothes, given a basic sword, her shackles loosed from the chain that bound her to the others, then shoved toward a Darga, who waited, holding a sword that both gods quickly recognized. The sword looked almost like a beautifully crafted weapon of its kind except that the sheen of its metal was subtly different from plain steel and its hilt was ornately jeweled with what looked like a large, blue diamond embedded in its pommel.
The woman stumbled toward the Darga, holding the sword up, almost like an offering, and it was obvious from the way she gripped its hilt that she had never held such a weapon before.
"Fight me," growled the Darga, a female from the noticeable shape of her body and the tenor of her voice. "If you do not fight me, I will eat you."
"Please," the woman whimpered.
The Darga smacked at the sword, knocking it from her hands.
"Pick it up." The Darga pointed the sword down at the blade the prisoner had dropped. "Do you wish to die a coward?"
The woman slowly stooped down and picked up the sword, and she gritted her teeth and gripped the weapon, clumsily preparing to fight.
"That's better," the Darga said, and with a quick dash forward, and before the woman could even react, the Darga plunged the jeweled sword through her body.
The woman cried out and the sword she held fell from her hand as the Darga laughed, then plunged a clawed, leathery hand into her chest. As the prisoner died, the sword flashed and the jewel at its pommel glowed, and the Darga female began to change. Her body filled out, her arms and legs becoming larger and longer, and muscles bunched on her back, surrounding sharp spines that pushed their way through her thick leathery hide. She ripped her fist out of the woman's chest, holding her heart as it beat for the last time and then she opened her wide, reptilian mouth and ate the blood covered organ.
"Another!" she growled from bloody teeth as she shoved the corpse to the ground.
"I will kill you, monster!" yelled a young man with tears running down his face as he dashed forward.
"Ah, a lively one!" the Darga said with obvious enthusiasm.
Ehlena felt a hand on her arm, and she turned to see Stroma shaking his head.
"We came here to find the book," he told her.
"And we will find it," Ehlena said, her voice echoing with power. "But this must stop."
"Would you suggest fighting all of these creatures?" Stroma felt her power subside. "You may be a goddess, but you cannot save everyone."
"We will get the book, then we will stop this madness," Ehlena told him, and she turned and continued toward the palace steps.
"I am curious," Stroma said, glancing back at the Darga as she toyed with her next victim. "I believe that creature wields a godsword."
"Yes," Ehlena said. "It appears that Kenra has found a number of them. I had hoped we might find those weapons and use them against him."
"Well if he has them, then we should as well." Stroma caught up and walked beside her as she made her way up the steps. "If we took that one away, the Darga would have no reason to continue killing."
"I hope so," Ehlena said, walking stiffly ahead, and Stroma noticed tears streaming down her cheeks.
"You feel too much for them," he said as they walked into the palace.
"How can I not?" Ehlena asked. "I can hear them, every voice, every cry, every dying breath. It is too much."
Stroma walked quietly alongside her down a long, unlit stone corridor for a few moments, then he gently touched her arm.
"You do not have to listen," he said. "While we have the power to help many, we have no obligation to do so. It is our choice."
"Though I may be different, my choice remains the same," Ehlena told him. "I will do what I can with the power I have been given."
"As will I," Stroma said. "Remember, you are not without your limits."
"I know," Ehlena replied. "Now, where is the book?"
"It is just ahead," he told her and led the rest of way down the hall.
They entered a large, wide open chamber with high ceilings above and a raised dais at the far end, where a great throne sat empty. In front of the dais, a circle of hooded, black robed mages stood, surrounding a pedestal upon which lay an open book, chanting in low tones as they worked their magic. Above the book, suspended in the air and glowing with power, was a large crystal, like the one in the temple at Maramyr, and all around the room were other, smaller ones glowing as well, as the mages fed power into the crystal.
"What is this?" Ehlena whispered as they walked into the throne room and stopped. "The power in this place is enormous."
"This is Kenra's magic," Stroma said. "He is using the power of the book to bind not just the mages, but all the people as well."
"Why?" Ehlena was confused, for the memories of the goddess told a different story of the dark god. "His way has always been to seek destruction and darkness."
"In the past, the shadow was thwarted by those of us with the power to do so," Stroma said. "Now Kenra gathers power, so much that he will be unstoppable. His power is already greater than before and we are weaker than we once were."
"There are others," Ehlena said. "Aaron will stand against him, but he must not stand alone. We must gather the others, as we did long ago."
"The Ansari will stand," Stroma said. "Kenra and this king he inhabits, Cerric, has made no secret that he plans to attack the elven lands, so the people of the forest will stand by necessity."
"What of the dragons?" Ehlena suggested.
"What of them?" Stroma asked.
"Perhaps it is time they returned."
"They must be summoned," Stroma said. "These Darga creatures are reason enough for dragonkind to become involved. Once we are finished here, perhaps you can travel to the dragons and request their aid. They always preferred you to me anyway."
"Of course," Ehlena said. "A favorable wind is preferable to them than a storm or a lightning strike."
"That is true," Stroma said. "Despite what some dragons may have thought, I can't be responsible for every bolt of lightning. Sometimes bad weather is simply bad weather."
Ehlena looked to the dais and the book.
"What must we do?" she asked.
"It is very simple," Stroma said, digging into his robes. "We replace the book with one of the lesser copies and hope that Kenra does not notice."
"What of his magic to enslave the people?" Ehlena asked. "Will removing the book prevent its effects?"
"I believe so," Stroma said. "At least it should."
"The great Stroma does not know the answer to a question of magic?" Ehlena felt a mixture of surprise and skepticism in her thoughts, the feelings of the goddess combining with her own.
"Despite knowing most things, I do not know everything," he said as he walked toward the mage priests, toward the book that lay on the pedestal.
"Behind you!" Ehlena cried as a winged Darga flew toward Stroma with a sword raised and ready to strike. She nudged the air
in the chamber, sending the creature off course, and it narrowly missed Stroma with the swing of its blade, which Ehlena recognized as being yet another jeweled godsword.
Stroma spun around and lightning crackled through the room as the Darga landed upon the polished stone floor and rolled to his feet. Several of the mages turned and glanced at the Darga and at Stroma for a moment but they turned back to the crystal and continued feeding their energy to it.
"Who are you that dares to trespass here?" the Darga growled.
Stroma walked toward the Darga, with lightning gathering around him.
"Who are you that dares to attack me?" he thundered, his voice shaking the entire palace with power.
Several of the mages turned at the sound of his voice, and Ehlena saw that they looked almost like Dakar had, as though their life force was drained. One of them stepped away from the group and walked over to where Stroma and the Darga stood.
"Stroma," said the mage, but with the voice of another, one that Ehlena recognized as Cerric, the king who held the power of Kenra. "I wondered when you might show yourself."
"You are clever if you can see me," Stroma said, glancing between the mage and the Darga.
"You were expected, so I have taken certain steps to counter your magic," Cerric replied. "Do not think I haven't noticed you searching for the books."
"That was hardly a secret," Stroma said. "I am surprised it took you this long."
"The books matter little to me now," Cerric told him. "Their power is past usefulness."
"You have not lost your talent for lies, Kenra," Stroma said.
The mage frowned.
"You are mistaken." The face of the mage frowned. "I am Cerric, King of Maramyr and the true god of this world. This god of whom you speak is but a faded memory, from a long forgotten age. A lot like you, it would seem."
"You are Kenra," Stroma said. "You may speak with the voice of another, but there is no mistaking you."
