by D N Meinster
The guardian turned and began leading them through the square. Aros followed, despite not knowing if he was supposed to. The guardian had not addressed him in any way. Was he too narrowly focused, or was the slight intentional? Aros knew he wasn't royalty, but he was still in their company. He could have at least been acknowledged in some sense.
Aros continued through the square, but was struck not by the chaos, but by the massive structure they neared. He usually saw Castle Tornis from a distance and had never appreciated its size until this moment. He gazed up at the polished black stone, which rose to insurmountable heights. The spires touched the clouds and blotted the sky, while the walls hid the rest of the city from view. Whilst looking upon the castle, there was literally nothing else that could be seen. He tried to keep up as he marveled at it and began trembling when he realized he'd be going inside.
Treatis Square was open to the public, but he never ventured near it. He and Leidess always went in the opposite direction, towards the desert; towards the Door. But how could that plain door have fascinated Leidess more than this magnificent fortress? There was much more to behold here than in the Outer.
Aros followed them around a hefty stage and down a narrow path that led right through the castle gates. He stepped through the threshold and into the castle's Entrance Hall. The stone inside was only a few shades lighter than its outdoor counterpart. It made for a gloomy environment that was augmented by the sparse decoration. However, facing the castle entrance hung a portrait unlike any Aros had ever seen. It was a portrait composed only of differing shades of gray yet looked more realistic than any colored painting. It was surrounded by a frame of winding green and gold and protected by a sheet of glass. The bottom of this frame marked the name of the lifelike individual staring out at passersby: King Aergo Tunsev. It was an eerie image that gave the impression that the actual King was trapped behind the glass. Aros wanted to ask his companions about it, but they were a couple yards ahead of him.
Down one of the several corridors he went, certain that he would be lost if they left his sight. This corridor branched into several more, and he sped up so he wouldn't take the wrong path. Navigation must have required a map, for there were just as many roads inside the castle as there were out in the kingdom.
Finally, the guardian led them inside a door-less room. It was a round space, with stain glass windows substituting for stone walls in nearly half of it. In front of the windows was a grand chair with a high back and tasseled cushions. It was the only chair in the room, and it was occupied by a befuddled man who looked as angry as he was confused. Though he had never seen him before, Aros knew this was the King, and he was sitting on his throne.
Guardians kept watch on each side of the throne, and standing before the King were five individuals in fanciful garments that were more condescending than any words could be. They wore guilty expressions and had the King's full attention, so he failed to notice when his son entered the room.
"You were gambling," the King said, mulling over the words. "Gambling."
"Your Majesty," the guardian interrupted.
The King bent his neck attempting to see beyond the group in front of him. This group also turned to view the new arrivals.
"We found the Prince," the guardian announced. "And Mistress Rikki."
Still no mention of Aros. Was he invisible to them?
"Dorenculous," King Halstrom said. "I was very concerned."
"For me? Or the Tunsev line?" Doren asked while lining up next to the group of five. Rikki joined him at his side, but Aros stayed several paces behind.
"Both, of course," Halstrom replied. He leaned back against the throne. "Where were you?"
Doren kept his mouth shut, unwilling to say where he had been. Rikki spoke up in his place. "We chased after one of the Thalians."
"Did you now?" Halstrom forced an unnatural grin. "I understand why you would do such a thing, Rikki. But my son? That's a warrior's job, and he's made it very clear that he is not a warrior."
"I'm not a sword wielder, but that does not make me defenseless!" Doren growled at his father.
"So, what? You fight with that thing on your back?" Halstrom's eyes were focused on his son. "Did you engage the Thalian with it? How did that turn out?" He continued before Doren could respond. "A king does not hide behind shields. Aergo only carried a sword for a reason." The King stood up from his throne and withdrew the sword at his side. He brandished it for all in the room to see. "This is a king's weapon. It is the King's weapon."
Doren slowly started reaching for the shield on his back.
Aros grew concerned that the King and the Prince might start dueling at any moment. This situation was awkward enough already. Doren and Halstrom were playing out a family squabble in front of an audience while it should have been done in private. It was behavior one might expect to see from a normal family, not from royalty. Their public actions should have reflected their high status.
"Go ahead," Halstrom egged on his son. "I'll show you."
A blinding light flashed inside the room. Aros could see nothing but white for moments. He pressed his palms to his eyes to protect them, and when he moved them away he could only see white spots. He blinked several times, trying to regain his sight. When he finally did, he was able to make out Rikki standing between Doren and his father, her face determined and her staff in hand.
"This is not the time," Rikki stated, emphasizing every word.
Halstrom slid the sword back into its sheath, and he fell back into his throne. "You are right, of course."
Rikki took her place back at Doren's side.
"When's the last time you even sat in the Throne Room?" Doren said with malice.
Rikki nudged him hard in the ribs.
"Ow," Doren cried.
"It takes less time to get here than our usual meeting chambers," Halstrom answered. He turned his head to the group of five. "The High Council was explaining how this happened before you got here. Apparently, they thought it was a better idea to place gems on whether Thalians would show up, rather than try to stop them. Is that about right, Kelvin?"
"With all due respect, no amount of security could have prevented them from gluing us to our seats," Kelvin said.
"But you didn't even try to prevent them from coming," Halstrom shot back. "No measures were taken to investigate the rumors. Nothing was done when my son saw a shadow wreaking havoc in the library."
Aros repeated the King's last sentence in his head. Doren saw a shadow? Could it have been the same shadow that was in Ratch's shop? He would have to ask Doren about the encounter later, assuming he got the chance.
"And Hatswick." The King paused. "Where is Hatswick?"
"The Grand Mage shifted right after the Thalians left," another member of the High Council stated. "He must have gone after them."
"Do you have an idea to where he might be, Rikki?" the King asked.
"I do not know," Rikki said. "But he is probably searching the kingdom. The Thalians have more reason to worry about him than we do."
"Right," the King nodded along. "So," he said, turning back to the High Council. "Whose head am I taking over this one?"
The High Council members started quivering and protesting.
"Your Majesty, Kings have not practiced execution since – "
"You know what my predecessors did," he informed them.
"But that – "
"But you – "
"My liege – "
"Calm down," Halstrom said, chuckling to himself. "I was only kidding. The only heads we are going to take are the ones of our Neanthal-worshipping party crashers."
"Did anyone recognize them?" Rikki asked, addressing the room.
Rikki got her answer when no one spoke. "Well, I did. And we are dealing with corrupt magic."
"Sin mages?" Halstrom said, recognizing the reference. "That would explain our paralysis."
"It's not just that," Rikki went on. "The man in the mask. His name is Sarin, and he's been dead since the
Manifest War."
Halstrom gave her a sympathetic smile. "So you know the mask, but not the man underneath. Simply because he was wearing – "
"It was him," Rikki stated with certainty. "And another was wearing an old war uniform."
"We cannot draw conclusions from superficial information," the King said. "We may be dealing with sin mages, but you would have me believe that these Thalians were – "
"Resurrected," Rikki interrupted again. "A specialty of corrupt magic."
"I will ask Hatswick about it upon his return," Halstrom said. "But it sounds nonsensical, Rikki."
"More nonsensical than a boy made of smoke? Or a door that leads to another world?" Rikki slammed her staff onto the ground. "Just because we have not dealt with these things in centuries doesn't mean they've gone away."
"Thank you, Rikki," Halstrom said, making clear that he was done hearing from her. He looked past the line up in front of him and right at Aros. "Now I'd like to hear from the young man back there. Who are you?"
Aros felt his heart speed up and his hands ooze with sweat. He had never seen the King before today and wasn't at all prepared to speak to him. He became quite aware how heavy the clawblades were on his back, and how they might be perceived as a danger in front of the King. He wanted to take them off immediately but figured such actions might be considered suspicious. Aros just stood still, as all heads were facing him.
"That's Aros," Doren said.
"Aros," Halstrom repeated. "Please, come closer."
Aros took a few steps forward.
The King smiled, amused by his antics. He extended his arm and curled his fingers multiple times, insisting that Aros move up.
Aros obliged until he was right next to Rikki.
"Now, Aros, where are you from exactly?"
"I live in Stone Hauler's District," he mumbled in a higher pitch than usual.
"Those look like interesting swords," Halstrom said, referring to the clawblades.
"I made them," Aros stated.
"A blacksmith then?"
"An apprentice," Aros corrected.
"Is it usual for a blacksmith's apprentice to need a healer's touch? I must say, you look terrible."
"This isn't from my duties."
"I suspected as much. Off chasing Thalians too?" The King folded his arms.
"They took someone close to me," Aros stated. He bowed his head and attempted to maintain his composure. "I tried to save her. I tried to get her back."
"Who did they take?" Halstrom asked, leaning his head forward.
Aros looked back up at the King. He knew he was seconds away from tears and saw no way to stop them from falling. "Leidess. Leidess Keru."
Halstrom shot a look at one of his High Council. "That name is familiar to me."
Aros wiped the water out of his eyes. He was mortified being so emotional in front of the King, but he had no control over his feelings. He wasn't sure he'd ever see the one he loved again. This had hung over him since he lost sight of Leidess, and it was no different in front of a throne.
Halstrom turned his attention from Aros. "So the three of you took on these Thalians? Clearly, they got the better of you."
"It was a complicated situation," Rikki tried to explain. "The armor this one wore was...unique."
"Unique armor on an undead Thalian. Sounds like an awful lot of excuses to explain your defeat." A few giggles broke out amongst the High Council. "But they're better excuses than you all have," Halstrom reprimanded his advisors. "I will have the guardians conduct a thorough investigation into the lot of you."
"Investigate what?" a female member asked.
"Whether you were somehow involved with our interlopers."
"Surely, you can't believe – "
"Is it worse to believe you are iniquitous or incompetent?" Halstrom posed. "Not rhetorical. I can't decide. You've let down your kingdom and your king."
None in the High Council responded. They looked fraught with anxiety, unsure if any words could relieve the King.
"Speechless? Mark this day in our history. Three-hundredth anniversary, Thalian reappearance, and an uncharacteristically silent High Council." Halstrom rose up from his throne. "We are going to find these Thalians. Rikki."
"My liege," she responded.
"Until Hatswick's return, you will lead the effort to locate our party crashers. We are dealing with magic in some form, which is dangerous for my men. You will accompany a regimen – "
"No," Doren said before the King could finish.
Halstrom bit his bottom lip before descending a few steps to the floor. He walked straight to Doren until there was only a minuscule gap between them. "What was that?" he asked, only inches away from his son's face.
"You are not sending Rikki off with a nameless horde," Doren said, carefully placing each word after the other.
"Why not?" the King questioned through gritted teeth.
"She'll die."
At just the mention of death, Halstrom turned his back to his son and climbed up to his throne. "Explain."
"The guardians are not prepared to battle these Thalians. They can wield magic. They can shift. We have to be smarter than throwing bodies at them."
"And what would smarter include?" Halstrom asked. "Sending a prince that got his ass whooped by them already?"
"I saw them up close. I know who they are and what they look like. So does Rikki. So does Aros." Doren added one more point. "And we survived."
"You think she's safer with you and a blacksmith's apprentice than with guardians?" The King appeared on the brink of laughter. "And your tutors informed me you were intelligent."
"Your Majesty," Aros spoke up. "I am going to search for Leidess no matter what you decide. I will risk my life for her, and I will find her. I know which way they were going. I can identify the kidnapper. There is nothing that will stop me from bringing her back. Not Thalians, and, with all respect, not you."
Halstrom turned on the spot, showing a face more wrinkled and exhausted than it had been minutes earlier. He set a few fingers on his beard and fell back into his throne.
Aros was concerned he had offended the King, but he had meant what he said. Finding Leidess was all that mattered now.
"I have not forgotten," Halstrom began, "what it is like to lose someone we love. And what we would do to bring them back. And you should thank the Goddess for that, Aros, for lesser kings would toss you into the dungeon, or into the desert." The King shook his head, as if he couldn't believe the words he was about to say. "Rikki, you will take Aros and the Prince and search for these Thalians. You three think you can do better than the guardians? Fine. But they will be out there, too. Searching. And Hatswick will be joining them as soon as he returns. So you should move posthaste if you are hoping to prove a point. Magenine-willing, you won't all be killed." Halstrom rose up once again and moved straight for the open exit. All eyes were on him as he moved across the room. "And see a healer before you go back out there," he added, before leaving with his guardians.
"I would start taking bets on your lives," Kelvin hissed. "If I wasn't so fond of my head."
The High Council departed the room, leaving Aros, Rikki, and Doren alone. They all looked at each other but said nothing. They knew what they had gotten themselves into, and they knew what they were going to have to do. The King had made this out to be some sort of contest, and the stakes could not have been higher. Out there were sin mages and Thalians intent on releasing Neanthal. Aros had unwittingly joined a mage and a prince who he hardly knew and who had just been defeated by one of these Thalians. Yet he was comforted that he wouldn't have to do this on his own.
Aros took one of his clawblades and held out straight it in front of him. He was met with blank stares by his companions, until Rikki figured out what he was doing. She extended her staff so that the top of it was touching Aros' blade.
Doren, finally comprehending their actions, took a few steps so the three of them were arranged in a circle. He grabbed
the shield off his back and held it flat so that its edge met both the sword and the staff.
They kept their weapons between them, in the middle of their circle, as they absorbed what they were about to attempt, together.
Chapter Eleven
The Pegasus Races
25 B.N.
King Aergo noticed someone from the corner of his eye. He instantly stopped in his tracks, bringing his entire party to a halt.
"What's going on?" a scratchy voice called back at the King.
But Aergo paid no attention to it. He was focused only on what he had seen.
All of his group's eyes were on him as he approached one of the cement buildings that lined the streets. It was a fairly nondescript structure, as most were in the Outer. They had passed numerous buildings of wood, or brick, or stone, on their way through the kingdom. Yet this one had something none of the others did. Lying on the ground, against the outside wall, was a pile of old rags.
Aergo knelt down and was able to see what no one else around him seemed capable of seeing. Beneath these rags was a person, their face so layered with dirt it was impossible to distinguish if they were male or female. Their hair was as brown as the clump of rags that lied on top of them. "What's your name?" Aergo asked, staring into their well-concealed eyes.
"Perfin," the rags replied, almost too weak to hear.
"Perfin," Aergo repeated. "Why are you out here like this?"
"No home," Perfin said. "Can't get work."
"Why can't you get work?" Aergo asked, his tone sympathetic and curious.
With his left hand, Perfin pushed away some rags over his right arm, or where his right arm should have been. There was just a short stump hanging off of his right shoulder. He grabbed the stump. "Lost it during the Conjugation."
The Conjugation Skirmish, Aergo refused to call it a war, was the last violent period he had presided over. After he had convinced Terrastream, Belliore, and the Twilight Islands to join his kingdom, the Fauns remained the final holdout. They refused to be a part of Kytheras, no matter how much Aergo was willing to relinquish in their discussions. So the four kingdoms went to war to bring Faunli into the fold. Aergo's forces were victorious, but there was a high casualty count on both sides. It had been several years since the King had encountered any victims of the Conjugation. He had done all he could to make sure they were well treated upon their return home.
