A Broken Throne

by Jordan Baker

  "You don't know."

  "I forget," he said and he held the jug of wine close. "That's why I'm drinking. To forget."

  "To forget what?"

  "I don't know," he said, and then he smiled through his tears. "I don't want to know. Just let me forget."

  "Tell me, what do you want to forget?" Jax asked, doing his best to control the myriad emotions running through him.

  "Everything," he said, and he stared into the flames. "That blasted fire, it won't let me forget. It's always there, no matter what I do, always a reminder of what I've done."

  "What have you done?" Jax asked, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

  "I don't do much, really. Not much to do here except drink, watch the fire and read my book." He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin, leather bound book. "It's mostly pictures, but they're like stories and they pass the time."

  Jax stared at the book in his father's hands. There was nothing special about how it looked, its cover simple and nondescript, but it raised the hairs on the back of his neck the same way the magic of the black robed priests did, and Jax knew that the book had something to do with why his father, the great Dash Larian, thief, former assassin and trusted protector to a king, had come to be in this place.

  "May I see that?" Jax asked.

  "Of course," he replied and handed over the book.

  When his fingers touched the book, Jax felt a strange desire to open it and he quickly pulled a kerchief from his pocket and wrapped the book in it, then tucked it away inside the folds of his coat. He looked up at his father, who had barely aged a day for the nearly twenty years he had been missing, and he saw the look of recognition slowly appear on his face.

  "Jax? Is that really you?"

  "Yes, father," Jax replied. "I think I'll have a drink of that wine now."

  *****

  Calexis seethed as she blasted each of the temples of the old gods to bits, her black fire eating away at the stone and casting an ominous purple light about the square that flickered and glowed in the dark grey fog and smoke. Dark energy flowed from the crystals throughout the city and into the temple, adding to her power, and it felt good to use it, to feel the raw, destructive force of which she was capable. Once she had vented her anger and the dust had settled, Calexis looked down at the people in the square, who had fallen to their knees before her, and with the power of the crystals she saw that nearly every person in the city had done the same. Only one warrior still stood, and she recognized the powerful form of her son, Draxis as he walked through the hundreds of people kneeling prostrate upon the ground, his great axe over his shoulder.

  "I see you have completed what Cerric started," he said as he emerged from the fog. "Your power changes you."

  "That is the power of the Akandra," she told him, then she gestured toward the people. "This is the power of the one god."

  "Do you follow the priesthood now, mother?"

  "No, my son, the priesthood follows me. I have taken the power from Cerric, the power of the god. It is mine to rule this world as I see fit, and all will obey me."

  Draxis looked around him at the countless people, kneeling, with their heads bowed.

  "You appear to have their devotion," he said.

  "They worship my power as they should," she told him, then she looked at the mass of people. "Rise!"

  All of them at once rose to their feet and stood in the shadows of the fog and smoke, their eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking, their bodies unmoving, awaiting her next command. Calexis laughed at how easily they moved to her whim.

  "And what will you do with them now?" Draxis asked.

  "Whatever I please," she said with a grin. "They are completely bound to me, as loyal subjects should be." She looked at the people, sending her thoughts out through the city. "Go about your business, but return to my temple as the priests command you and celebrate my glory with your every act."

  The people of Maramyr blinked as though waking from a dream, then they turned in different directions and began making their way back to their homes and their lives, as though nothing strange had happened, all the while thinking about how they could glorify their goddess, Calexis, the one true power.

  "Are the champions are under your spell also?" Draxis asked.

  "They have already assembled at the Academy grounds," Calexis replied. "It is curious that you appear to have resisted my magic."

  "Perhaps it is my birthright," he said. "I am your son, after all."

  "You have grown very powerful, Draxis," she said. "I will enjoy watching you destroy the people of the forest. Have Berant see to the army. We leave for Elvanar tomorrow."

  "As you command," Draxis said and he walked away through the fog and the smoke.

  Calexis turned and entered the temple, its interior crackling with purple energy and black fire. She saw the black robed mages using the crystals to gather energy from all of the people in the city, letting it flow into them, rejuvenating their bodies and their power as it move through them and along the links that bound them to her. Every line of power, every flow of energy, even the tiniest flicker of magic, no matter how circuitous its path, it all came to her and it was glorious. Calexis walked up to the large crystal suspended in the center of the temple overtop the cheap copy of the book she no longer needed, and she used her power to become larger, then she wrapped her arms around the crystal and quivered in ecstasy from the raw power that flowed into her, quickly replenishing all that she had foolishly used to destroy those irritating temples.

  With her power practically spilling from her, Calexis felt her other appetites start to itch and she went off in search of some entertainment, wondering who she might toy with, who might provide her with the greatest amusement, and she cursed herself for sending Berant to mobilize the army. No matter, she thought, there would be plenty of time to torment the poor, unwilling, yet eminently capable Lord General. Calexis walked down the empty street and saw that some of the champions had resumed their revelries, toasting their valor, and she eyed them hungrily, wondering which of them would prove the most satisfying, and whether one alone would be enough for a hungry goddess.

  *****

  His face stung, her slap knocking him sideways, and Aaron barely managed to keep his feet from the force of it. Kasha stared at him, her eyes glinting angrily under the starlight of the clear, desert sky. Aaron stumbled back to his feet, rubbing his jaw after the unexpected and very powerful blow. The Ansari who were nearby glanced in their direction then they turned away.

  "What was that for?" he asked.

  "That was for lying," Kasha said.

  "When did I lie to you?" Aaron asked.

  "It seems you have lied to me from the start."

  "What? I told you my name when we met," Aaron said.

  "Antal? No, that is not the lie. The lie is who you are."

  "I don't understand. How am I a lie? Is it because of the shadow?"

  "No," she said, and she shook her head. "I cannot believe that I was so mistaken about you. It is a shame I have brought upon Ansari."

  "What did I do to bring you shame?"

  "When you said you would die instead of giving your power to the shadow, I did not like that, but there was a sense to it, but for you to lie down and offer yourself to Stroma like you did. That is not Ansari."

  "I am not Ansari," Aaron said.

  "No, you are not," Kasha said, and it was clear from the distant way her people had begun to treat him that they felt the same way.

  "What would you have me do?" Aaron asked.

  "You would end yourself so easily?"

  "No," Aaron said. "I don't know. I was just trying to do what was best, for everyone, and for you." He glanced at her belly, which was more noticeable in the dim light of the stars.

  "And you know this how?"

  "I know that I cannot use my power," Aaron said. "I know that if I do, I will feed the shadow. And even if I could use my power, I know that is it dangerous. I don't know what
I am doing. Stroma is...was a god and his knowledge is far greater than mine. I don't even understand most of the things he told me."

  "And so you would have given him your power and your life?"

  "If he could have stopped the shadow, I would, if it meant everyone was safe."

  "Are you are a seer, Aaron, that you know this would come to be?"

  "No, I am not. I just don't think I am the one to fight a god."

  "Who are you?"

  "Who am I?"

  "Yes, who are you?"

  "I am who I am."

  "And who is that?"

  "I don't know."

  "And that the lie you live."

  "Why are you so impossible!"

  "Ansari do not use such a word. It is another lie."

  "What do you want from me?" Aaron asked, completely exasperated.

  "I want nothing. What is it that you want?"

  "I don't know."

  "Then go."

  "What?"

  "You are no longer welcome among Ansari. Lost in the sands you have become, Aaron and you must find your path." A tear slowly fell down her cheek. "I hope you find your truth, that you may someday come to know Ansari."

  "You want me to leave? What about the training the Ansari have had me doing? It is helping. I can feel my power growing, without the shadow."

  "You are cast from my domain. You must leave."

  "I will talk to the Ansari leader."

  "Ansari will not speak with you. I speak for Ansari now. You must leave."

  "You aren't serious."

  "I am Ansari."

  "Fine then, I will leave at first light."

  "You will leave now."

  "As you wish."

  "That is not my wish, Aaron."

  "I don't understand."

  "When you know, come find me."

  "What about the dark god, the shadow? Will the Ansari fight?"

  "You must leave now," Kasha said, her voice becoming hard despite the tears in her eyes.

  Aaron looked around and saw the Ansari in the camp, all of them staring at him, and they did not look particularly friendly. Aaron looked at Kasha again, not sure what to say, but she had already turned and walked away. He stood there on the sandy ground, and looked up at the stars in the sky above, then he turned and slowly walked from the camp, and a gust of wind blew across his path, erasing his footsteps as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Kasha entered the tent and found Stavros and Tash sitting next to Lexi, who lay upon a soft mat, still unconscious. They looked up at her, and saw the tears on her face.

  "What's wrong, Kasha?" Tash asked.

  "Aaron is gone."

  "Aaron?" Stavros leapt to his feet. "Why would he leave?"

  "He must find his way," Kasha said.

  "What did you say to him?" Stavros asked. "He would not just leave like that."

  "Wouldn't he?"

  Stavros ran out of the tent and peered out into the night, but the wind began to rise, gusting sand across his vision, and even with his power, he could see very little.

  "Damnable Ansari," he growled, then he noticed several of them standing nearby. Stavros went back inside the tent where Kasha had taken his place next to Lexi.

  "Did you find Aaron?" Tash asked.

  "No, child. I could not find him."

  "Will he come back?"

  "I don't know," Stavros said, looking over at Kasha. "Likely not." He turned and started toward the flap of the tent.

  "Are you going too?" Tash asked.

  "I no longer think I am welcome here," he said.

  "You may stay if you wish, mage," Kasha told him. "You have not been untrue, thus you remain under my domain."

  "I do not need your protection here or anywhere else in the world, Kasha," Stavros growled. "That being said, I wish you well and hope you and Ashan can help Lexi."

  "Where will you go?"

  "That is for me to know," Stavros said. "Tell your Ansari chief that I expect your people to stand against Cerric and the dark god, or you will hear about it in the most challenging of terms. This is not the time for us to stand apart."

  "You tread upon dangerous sands, mage," Kasha said, understanding the accusation in his words.

  "As I always have," Stavros said, then he turned and smiled at Tash. "Goodbye, Tash. Please give my regards to Lexi when she wakes."

  "Goodbye Stavros," she said and she wanted to smile, but found that she could not.

  The wind began to howl outside the tent as Stavros disappeared between the cloth flaps at its entrance, but the sound of the sandstorm was drowned out by the rush of power and the deafening thunderclap that shook the entire camp, as the angry mage gathered his power and disappeared in a flash of power.

  *****

  Brian pushed aside the vines and the two mages followed him out of the tunnel and into the mossy green canopy under the trees by the lake. The trickling water of the shrine was the only sound in the still, windless night and their footsteps were loud in the eerie silence. Brian looked up toward the city and saw the dark light emanating from the sky above the city, and the black, fog slowly drifting down from overtop the city walls.

  "We did not save even one," Willem said with a dejected look upon his face.

  "We did not save even one," Calthas commented as he emptied the last drop from his flask, then put it away with a sigh.

  "Why would Stroma abandon us?" Willem asked. "Something must have happened."

  Brian scouted around the edge of the clearing, looking and listening for some sign of Pike or Elric, but they had both disappeared. Since they had left no trail behind, he surmised that they had both followed the path of the stream, which meant they had at least wondered off in a direction that was away from the city, and he hoped they would keep going, for the lands around Maramyr had become unfriendly territory.

  "Do you know what has become of Stroma?" Calthas asked, as Brian returned to the two mages.

  "I think he is dead," he said.

  "That's the simplest answer," Kroma rumbled in his thoughts.

  "Then all is lost," Willem said with a frown. "Without Stroma, we cannot destroy the books and we cannot stand against the dark god."

  "No," Brian replied. "All isn't lost, so long as we live. There must be a way to do these things."

  "True," Calthas said. "Though I'd say our chances of surviving for much longer just went from slim to none. The magic of the priesthood, the spell up there that covers the entire city, it feeds off of everything, every person, every living creature, and all of that power feeds the dark god. He has become even more powerful, while we have been weakened."

  "What do we do now? Willem asked. "Where do we go?"

  The air around them began to shake and the trees rustled at the sound, then with a loud crack, Stavros appeared. Brian took a step back, not sure if the mage was a friend or foe, but he relaxed when he saw Willem and Calthas smile.

  "Stavros," Calthas said. "Are we glad to see you. What has happened?"

  "All kinds of things, and most of them bad," Stavros said, darkly.

  "Is it true that Stroma is dead?" Willem asked.

  "Yes," Stavros said, then he turned and looked at Brian. "Who is this?"

  Calthas answered for him.

  "Stavros, this is Brian," he said. "This fine fellow rescued Willem and I from the city. I believe the Lady sent him, though he seems to have a personal relationship with the dark god, who no longer inhabits Cerric, but has taken over Queen Calexis."

  "Cerric is no more?" Stavros was surprised.

  "Could you explain?" Brian asked Kroma, a little confused at the appearance of the mage, who looked uncannily like Aaron's uncle Tarnath.

  "Certainly, my boy," Kroma replied.

  "Cerric is dead," Kroma said, speaking through Brian, his voice deep and powerful, shaking the earth around them. "He was murdered by Calexis, when she took the power of Kenra into herself."

  Stavros sensed the change in Brian and felt the power that
surrounded them.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  "I am the mountain," Kroma told him. "I am the rock and the stone that flows."

  "Kroma," Stavros said.

  "What is left of me," he said. "This young man rescued me from Cerric's corpse, where Kenra thought to leave me trapped after stealing most of my power."

  "Can the young man hear me while I talk to you?" Stavros asked.

  "I can hear you," Brian said.

  "Well done, lad," he said. "It seems you've done a lot of rescuing today."

  "That is an understatement," Kroma rumbled. "The boy is a defender, of the old lines, and though he knows little of the ways of the world, he is an honorbound champion. I could not have been more fortunate, though I feel the hand of the Lady in some of this."

  "The Lady goddess, she is subtle in many ways," Stavros said.

  "It has ever been her way to move quietly like a gentle breeze, nudging certain things without forcing them, though she has the power of a gale when roused," Kroma said. "I prefer to be more direct, but for now I lack the power to take the battle directly to this Calexis."

  "You are far from powerless," Calthas said.

  "I have but a sliver of what Kenra has taken from me," he said. "It may be possible to regain what I have lost, but it will take time, and time grows short. Calexis is already far more powerful than any god, and her army grows stronger with the magic of the godswords."

  "Godswords?" Calthas was curious.

  "Ancient weapons," Kroma explained, drawing the sword from his belt. "Ages ago, the godswords were gathered up and hidden away and their purpose forgotten, that they would not be sought or used by anyone. The other gods kept this secret from Kenra, but he has discovered their purpose and unearthed a number of these weapons."

  "What is their purpose?" Calthas asked.

  "They steal the power of the slain and bestow that power upon the wielder," Stroma said. "I can see why such weapons would be dangerous."

  "May I examine it?" Calthas asked, looking at the sword.

  Kroma flipped the blade around and handed it to the mage.

  "You may keep it," he said. "These two axes are of the same fashioning, the metal is silvergold, stronger and more resilient than steel, and the jewels take the energy and turn it to the purpose of the one who controls the blade."