A Broken Throne

by Jordan Baker

  "Then do what you must," Aaron said, and he lowered his sword.

  "Your sacrifice will be remembered, Aaron," Stroma said. "That I will also promise."

  "If you wish," Aaron said. "That was never important to me. Just keep the world safe."

  Stroma walked toward him and raised his sword over his shoulder, and Aaron took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he felt the god's lightning energy touch him, like so many crooked fingers of blinding light and intense heat. He heard the god tighten his grip upon the hilt of his blade, ready to swing, then he heard the sound of steel cutting through flesh, followed by a cry of pain.

  Aaron opened his eyes and saw the end of a sword, sticking from Stroma's chest, and he saw a creature that looked like one of the lizard creatures standing behind him. The tattered and torn robes, the blue tint to the scales of the creature and the feminine shape of its body, though much larger than before, told him who it was. The fanged mouth and the reptilian features beneath her horned head were unmistakable even in such a form, and Aaron saw Lexi glance down at him then she began to convulse as the sword fell from Stroma's hand and lightning flew in all directions.

  The sphere of energy collapsed around them as the god's energy crashed against it. Stroma looked over his shoulder and saw Lexi behind him, her fangs growing longer and her form shifting as his power flowed into her. He turned his head and looked at Aaron.

  "I am undone," he rasped, then he reached out toward him, his hand touching Aaron's cheek, and his expression both panicked and determined. "She takes my power but not my knowledge. Take my knowledge, Aaron. Take what's left of it."

  Aaron felt his touch upon his mind, like the way a mage might try to see into a person's thoughts, but it was different. Instead of prying at him, it was the opposite, an offer to look, and Aaron saw Stroma's mind, the thoughts and memories of the god, who had lived through the ages. Like a waterfall, cascading from a great height, the knowledge of the god came tumbling into his thoughts in a chaotic rush, and Aaron could barely make sense of any of it, but the few things he understood struck him with both wonderment and sorrow. Blinded for a moment by the pure energy of the god and overwhelmed by so many thoughts, Aaron focused his vision and looked at Stroma as his form began to fade.

  "I will do what must be done," Aaron told him. "I will find a way."

  "Perhaps it is better," Stroma said. "You must find the last book, Aaron."

  Stroma closed his eyes and Aaron heard his voice in his thoughts, telling him how the books were created and how they might be destroyed.

  "I will find the book, and I will defeat the shadow," Aaron said as Stroma disappeared completely.

  The robes the god had worn fell slack, hanging upon the sword that had destroyed him, then the blade fell from Lexi's clawed hand to the ground as she stumbled backwards, her form beginning to change. She clutched her head in her hands as long horns grew from her head and her body grew larger, changing shape, and she cried out, her voice no longer small and soft, but now a fearsome cry with a deep and powerful roar beneath it. Great blue wings stretched out from her massive reptilian body and they coursed with lightning as they beat the air, lifting her from the ground.

  The sky began to darken and dark clouds materialized in all directions as Lexi flew higher and higher. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped as she disappeared into the clouds, and a great, deep roar echoed across the sky. As quickly as they had come, the clouds faded away, and from the center of them Lexi fell straight down, no longer the massive creature she had become. Aaron tried to reach her, hoping to catch her, but she hit the ground before he could close the distance and the impact was so hard that Lexi drove a deep impression into the dirt around her. Curled up, still holding her head in her hands, she lay unconscious, but Aaron was relieved to see that she was still breathing as he knelt down beside her. No longer held back by the barrier of energy, the Ansari rushed forward and gathered around. Aaron looked up and saw Kasha, Ashan and Tash, along with the mage, Stavros, pushing their way through the crowd.

  "Lexi did it, she became a dragon," Tash said, quietly.

  "A fearsome one at that," Ashan said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

  "Dragons are fierce," she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The palace was a flurry of activity as servants scurried about, readying the final preparations for the feast that Cerric had ordered. A hundred warriors remained of the two hundred who had fought in the streets and taverns of Maramyr, and the victors took their places at long tables that had been set up in a grand banquet hall, before a raised section at the end where the god-king himself would preside over the evening. Many of the other fighters, who had lost but still survived their fights, were invited as well, to honor those who had found victory. There were rumors that those who had made it to the final rounds of the tourney but did not win might also be offered command positions in the army, lesser positions than those who had won, but a reward, it was said, could offer advancement for those who distinguished themselves further in battle in the upcoming campaign.

  "Well the wine is fairly good," Jax said, lifting his cup to Brian then holding it to his lips and swallowing but only taking a small sip, and Brian did the same with his ale.

  "I wonder what the prizes will be," Brian said. "I've heard a lot of rumors, people saying it could be anything from being knighted with lands and all to special swords with magical spells put on them by the mage priests. I used to think about being a knight, but this wasn't how I imagined it, so I'd rather get a weapon. I don't feel right without my axes.

  "Don't worry," Jax said with a sly grin over the top of his cup. "Your axes aren't too far away."

  The invitation to the winners feast had specified that no weapons would be permitted in the palace. Most of the fighters had turned theirs in at the gates, but Jax and Brian had shown up without theirs, and Jax had snuck into the palace earlier and hidden their weapons in a place he knew where they could get at them easily. They saw Pike at another table when they had sat down, but they had agree not to acknowledge each other since the young Xallan was determined to carry out his plan. After being patted down very thoroughly at the gates of the palace, Brian was not sure how Pike intended on killing Cerric, but he did not think it wise to talk about it, even quietly. While the other fighters gorged themselves on food and drink, they ate sparingly and drank even less, keeping their wits about them.

  Trumpets sounded loudly at the front of the hall and, from a wide doorway behind the high table, a number of nobles entered the room and stood behind their seats. The servants who brought the food and wine went around telling all the fighters to rise for the king and queen, and once all of them were standing, the trumpets sounded again. Cerric and Calexis entered the hall, both dressed elegantly in black and shining with gold. They made their way to their seats, two large thrones at the center of the long table and Cerric looked out over the hall.

  "Champions!" Cerric said, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. "Worthy fighters, guests, loyal warriors. Welcome!"

  The soldiers standing guard about the room stomped their feet, their leather and steel armored boots thundering upon the floor, and the room full of fighters did the same. Cerric held up his hand and the noise stopped.

  "Dine upon your victories," he said. "And while you eat and drink as champions, each of you will be called to receive your prize. Now, please, enjoy yourselves. You have earned that right."

  Cerric sat down at his large chair and Calexis sat as well, followed by the rest of the lords at the high table. The food and wine servants let the fighters know that they could sit back down again and they set back to eating the food and enjoying their wine as, one by one, the names of the fighters were called. It turned out that some of the stories were true, for each of the winning fighters was awarded a new sword and made a captain in Cerric's army.

  "Brian of Merrybrook," hollered the soldier with the list of names and Brian rose to his feet, heading up to receive his p
rize.

  "I am Brian," he said.

  "Very good," the soldier replied. "See the Lord General Berant for your prize."

  The soldier directed him to make his way across the dais to a table that sat in front of the king's table, where Berant stood waiting for him. He turned to face Cerric as Brian approached, and Brian did the same, as he had seen the fighters before him do. They both bowed to the king and queen, who nodded as they drank their wine and continued their conversation, which sounded as though it had something to do with the elves, but Brian could not get a sense of it as the Lord General spoke to him.

  "Brian of Merrybrook," Berant said, looking at a page in a sheaf of papers held in a folded piece of stiff leather. "I understand you fought in the tournament with two axes and you are also a hunter."

  "Yes, Lord General," Brian replied.

  "Alas we have no axes for you," he said. "But sometimes a sword has its uses. Please choose any one of the swords you see before you."

  Atop the table was an array of swords, all of them nearly identical, except for the different colored stones that were embedded in their pommels. They looked like the weapons that Brian had found in the chamber deep within the tunnels, and he was surprised to see them there, since the voices of the keep had said they could not be used by those who did not take an oath to become a defender.

  "Is there a problem?" Berant asked.

  "No," Brian said. "I'm not sure which one to choose."

  "Just pick one," Berant told him. "They are all the same."

  Brian noticed that the Lord General also had one of the blades hanging from his belt, one with a clear stone in its pommel. He saw one just like it on the table and picked it up, and Berant smiled.

  "You are hereby made Captain in his highness' King Cerric's Royal Army," he said. "You will report to the Academy grounds on the morrow where you will receive your assignment for the upcoming campaign."

  "Thank you," Brian said and he nodded to Berant, then turned to the king and queen and gave them a short bow. He turned back to the Lord General. "Is it true that we will make war on the elves?"

  "Now is not the time to discuss such things," Berant said, his tone turning short and firm.

  "Yes sir," Brian said.

  "Congratulations, Captain, enjoy the feast," Cerric said from behind a handful of grapes.

  Brian was not sure how to respond to a king so he bowed again, then saluted, then turned and walked from the dais and returned to his table.

  "That's an interesting sword," Jax said as Brian sat down next to him. "I used to have one a lot like it, the one that friend of yours took off me."

  "There's a bunch of them up there," Brian said as he looked at the glittering gem in the pommel of the sword. "You'll get one too, I think."

  It was not long before the soldier called out the false name Jax was using in the tournament and he went up to fetch his prize, returning with a sword almost identical to the one that Brian's friend, the young man, Aaron had taken from him. A few more names were called and they heard Pike being summoned up to the front of the hall.

  "Do you think..." Brian started to ask, but Jax nudged him in the ribs and he kept quiet.

  They watched as Pike bowed to Cerric and Calexis and spoke with Berant, then he picked up a sword from the table. Both Brian and Jax held their breath, wondering when and if Pike would make his move, but he simply walked away and returned to his seat like the rest of the fighters.

  "Well, that answers your question," Jax said quietly.

  "He seemed so determined," Brian said.

  "It is easier to say a thing, and even to want to do a thing, than it is to actually do it," Jax told him. "I think our friend is very young and a little confused. Also, I had a little talk with him earlier."

  "You did?"

  "Certainly," Jax said. "I told him not to be a fool, and reminded him of his duty to make sure the order would continue. If he is truly the last one in his land, then he has some recruiting to do."

  "That's true," Brian agreed.

  "Besides, even if he still wanted to do it, the way things are arranged up there makes things a little difficult," Jax said.

  Brian thought about it and realized that there would be no way to close the distance between where he had stood and where Cerric sat at the table if someone wanted to attack the king. With Berant standing right there, soldiers on either ends of the table and guards behind the table, as well as Cerric himself, who was reputedly a powerful warrior and rumored to have killed a dragon by himself, if such a thing were even possible, there was almost no chance someone would be able to get near him, let alone get away with trying to kill the king in front of everyone in the hall. No doubt, the fifty warriors who would receive weapons would be more than willing to show their appreciation by hacking an assassin to pieces. Brian was glad that Pike had not gone through with his plan, mostly because he liked the young Xallan, even more so since learning that he was a member of the same secretive order as Jax.

  Brian noticed another familiar figure moving up to the front of the room, the fighter he had spoken with in the tavern one day, who kept his face hidden beneath a hood. As before, the warrior had his hood pulled up over his head so it draped down over his face. He spoke with the soldier then walked out across the dais, to where Berant waited and the king and queen looked on. The warrior picked up one of the swords, then he drew it from its scabbard and looked at it and began to laugh, his dry, rasping voice filling the hall.

  "You find this amusing?" Cerric asked as his soldiers edged closer to the fighter, who pulled back his hood revealing his strange, almost reptilian features.

  "I do find it amusing," he said, pointing the blade at the king. "You would hand such weapons as these to this rabble?"

  "Prince Draxis," Cerric said, rising from his seat. "Have you come to beg forgiveness for your failures?"

  "I thought to take your head," Draxis replied.

  The entire banquet hall fell silent, then Cerric began to laugh.

  "It seems you have learned something of a sense of humor in your travels," he said. "Do you have any other amusing things to say?"

  "I am amused that you find me amusing," Draxis said. "And I have learned many things in my travels.

  "Why have you come, Draxis?"

  "I have come to take command of the Xallan Army, as is my right," Draxis said, then he slid the blade back into its scabbard.

  "You have been granted the rank of Captain," Cerric said, "If you wish to lead, you will earn that privilege. Now sit down, before I lose my patience with you."

  "As you command," Draxis said and he nodded to Cerric, then he turned to Calexis and gave her the same curt nod and walked from the dais.

  "Who is that?" Brian asked aloud, his question echoed by many others in the hall.

  "That's Lord Draxis," said a large, gruff looking fighter, sitting across the table. "He's Queen Calexis' son, a Darga halfbreed, the Prince of Xalla."

  "Why would he threaten the king to his face like that?"

  "Perhaps he's a fool," the fighter said with a grunt. "Or he's making some point to Cerric. Who knows what games those royals play."

  "I suspect he's making a point to the rest of us," Jax commented. "If he wishes to command, he must act like a commander, and show his authority."

  "That's likely true as anything," the warrior said. "Still, seems something risky to make threats at a king, though I doubt Cerric felt threatened. At the battle of Kandara, Prince Draxis got beaten badly by a dragon, then Cerric himself stepped in and slew the creature with not a weapon in his hands."

  "I heard that story," Brian said. "I'm not sure if I believe such a thing."

  "Believe it, boy," the warrior said. "There's all sorts of creatures in this world and some of them even stranger than dragons, though few are close to being as powerful."

  "I've seen a few strange things," Brian said, thinking of the creature locked in the palace dungeon, who Draxis reminded him of in some ways.

 
"Haven't we all," the warrior said and he took a drink from the mug of ale in front of him, then his eyes focused on the dais. "Looks like the king's got something to say."

  "Honored guests," Cerric said, rising from his seat as the last of the fighters returned from the high table. "Fifty of you have received titles, and you will soon be given your commands. You have also been given special swords, ancient weapons that have been lost through the ages and found once again. Great effort has been made to recover these swords, and by strength and by skill you have proven yourselves worthy fighters.

  "Now, I give you another gift. These blades possess a special magic. They have the ability to take the power, the strength, the skill and speed of any opponent and add it to your own. You need but deliver a killing blow and have the desire for power firmly fixed in your thoughts. The more powerful your opponent, the more powerful you become, and that is why I have invited all of the other fighters from the tournament to this great feast, that you may quench your blades upon them and become truly strong. For the rest of you, anyone holding a sword will receive a command. Now is your chance to redeem yourselves."

  The hall was dead silent as Cerric stood smiling at them, his expression benign while his words spoke of cold murder. No one moved, and Cerric was not sure if they completely understood what he had just told them.

  "It is simple," he said. "The more you kill the stronger you will become. You need only think of their power when you strike and the magic of the swords will seize their strength and give it to you. May the strong become stronger and may the strongest prevail!"

  All through the hall, the sound of steel being drawn from scabbards could be heard as the new captains began to rise from their seats. Shouts rang out from the other tables and the rest of the fighters, who had come thinking they might receive some kind of secondary prize, ran for the main doors to the hall and found them barred from the outside. As the hall erupted in chaos, dozens of soldiers surrounded the high table and stood guard while the king and queen, and their guests, exited through the doorway at the front of the hall.