by Amanda Young
“Where did you get these? They must have cost a fortune.”
“It’s standard issue for the Guard. We use them to report back when we’re on missions.”
“But what good will they do if you’re going to be in Aleria? If I do get into trouble, you won’t be able to do anything about it.”
Kern grinned and pulled out a scroll. “Teleportation spell.” The Flame Guard had a fair access to spells and magical items. Their organization began many years before the establishment of Suriax as a group of assassins who were also devout worshippers of Venerith. Needless to say, once they learned of a place where killing was legal, founded on the teachings of Venerith, Suriax quickly became their base of operations. Veritan employed the Guard so often he was assigned a high ranking member, Marianella Mareash, as his personal guard. The two married and bore a daughter, Maerishka, the current queen of Suriax. The relationship between the crown and the Flame Guard was cemented with their union. An official honor guard for the royal family, they also managed to maintain some independence to take on whatever jobs they wished, as long as it didn’t interfere with their royal duties. Members routinely disappeared on jobs. They also had the freedom to refuse any assignment. It was never a good idea to send an assassin on a job he didn’t want to be on. Nowadays, they were divided into two groups, those in it for the job and those in it for their god. The Cleric Guard designed all the spells and magical items used by the rest of the group. Every member was completely decked out. Of course they didn’t publicize that fact, or they would constantly need to defend themselves from every two copper thief wanting to make a silver. And those who didn’t want to rob them would probably want to kill them out of fear for how powerful they were.
Marcy hugged Kern tightly. “Be safe.”
“You, too.”
They stood and went their separate ways, both having a job to do. Venerith willing, they would see each other again.
* * *
Marcy cleaned up the dishes and looked over her shoulder to the den. Frex was already dozing in his chair. He stirred at a knock to the door. She felt her heart skip. There weren’t many people who could be knocking. She was so distracted with her own thoughts she didn’t notice Frex was no longer in his chair until she heard him opening the door, letting in two Royal Guards.
“Where is Kern Tygierrenon?” one of them asked. The man was the taller of the two, and from the insignia on his collar, she could tell he was the higher rank.
“He isn’t here,” Marcy answered, putting herself between Frex and the men.
“Who are you?” the shorter man asked.
“A friend,” she tried to keep her voice calm. “He had a job outside Suriax. I’m just helping out while he’s gone.”
“Where exactly did he go?” the tall man asked again.
“I don’t know,” she answered semi-honestly. She knew he was in Aleria, but that was a large place. He could be anywhere in the city. “He couldn’t discuss the details of the job.” That was a plausible story. Flame Guardsmen were known for their ability to keep a secret. It was a necessity in their line of work.
“Okay, I believe you,” the taller guard said. “Bring them with us.”
“Wait, why?” She sidestepped the other man as he tried to grab her arm.
The officer turned back to her and smiled. “If he is out on a job, he will return, and when he comes looking for you both, it will lead him right to us. Problem solved.”
She didn’t know what to do. She had to protect Frex, but he wasn’t safe either way. If she fought, he could get hurt. If they went quietly, they could be tortured. If she fought and didn’t escape, they could be killed. Of course, that could happen no matter what she did. Her options weren’t looking too good. The guard reached for her arm again and froze. His eyes widened briefly before closing. With a grunt, he fell to the floor, a pool of blood gathering around him. The taller guard turned, but even he didn’t get his weapon pulled before falling lifeless to the floor. Behind them stood a human male, dressed in blue and black. His sword was covered in their blood. He reached his hand out, his face changing from focused killer to kind friend in an instant. “I’m Thomas.”
Chapter 3
Maerishka looked around anxiously. The ball would begin soon, and Svanteese had not brought any word on the uncle or the missing guard. The heat from the day was ebbing, but the high humidity made the cooler temperature less than enjoyable. Her gown hugged her uncomfortably, but she did not adjust it. A queen did not adjust her garments in public.
“Her Royal Highness, Queen Maerishka,” The announcer called.
“Long live the Queen,” rang out in the hall. She took to the steps and made her grand entrance, not even faltering when she caught sight of Svanteese from the corner of her eye. Of course he would choose now to appear. Between the customary introductions to the other distinguished guests and the several requests she had to dance, it would be at least an hour before she could slip away to talk to him in private.
Finally, taking advantage of a lag in conversation with Lord Brenalain to excuse herself, she ducked into a private chamber adjoining the hall and waited. Svanteese was quick to follow. He approached her with a look of trepidation, hesitant to speak. “Spit it out,” she ordered. “You’ve had plenty of time to consider your wording.”
Knowing her temperament was not about to improve, Svanteese spoke. “The uncle is gone and two guards are dead. Reports from neighbors place a young elven woman at the scene shortly before the guards went to the residence. From her description, she is most likely Marcy Kentalee, a recorder who had dealings with Kern Tygierrenon.”
“Double the guard around the palace, but do it discretely. We don’t want to alarm our guests. And do a sweep of all the homes. They must be hiding somewhere. Find them.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed and exited quickly. Maerishka returned to the ball, but her heart wasn’t in it. Every servant caught her eye. She watched every stranger for some hint of hostility. Anyone could be a threat. She had not felt this paranoid since she first assumed the throne. Of course the vast majority of those she suspected of treachery then were guilty, so you could not actually call her fears and suspicions paranoia.
“Your Highness,” Alvexton waited for her to take his hand and led her to the dance floor. “I must say, so far I am very impressed by Suriax.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We are honored to have you here.” They settled into a comfortable dance, standing a little closer to each other than was customary. She did not complain.
“I must ask, isn’t it difficult ruling over a land with such unusual laws?”
Maerishka grinned. “Quite the contrary. It actually makes my job much easier.”
“Really?” Alvexton asked, intrigued.
She nodded. “As you know, sometimes as a ruler, you must do things that the general public would consider questionable or immoral to protect your people and maintain order. Here, I can do what needs to be done without having to hide or justify my actions. Everything is strictly above board.”
“So, you have no secrets from your people?”
Maerishka tried to maintain her smile. “I did not say that. But everything I do is completely legal, so no one could ever use my actions to unseat me or challenge my rule.”
“I see,” he looked off in thought. “Well, Suriax is lucky to have you.”
They maintained small talk after that, not leaving the dance floor until the music ended and the banquet began. He smiled warmly when he realized they were to be seated by one another. Unfortunately, Brenalain was seated to her other side, so she found herself regaled by story after story from his homeland throughout the dinner. She and Alvexton did not speak again until the meal was over and all the other guests began filing out. “I had a lovely evening.”
“As did I.” At least the day wasn’t a complete loss, she thought to herself. But the time for relaxation and enjoyment was over. She had matters to attend to. No one would take her throne.
Kern Tygierrenon would pay.
* * *
Kern considered his options for getting into Aleria. Normally, there was no problem. Citizens traveled between the two cities all the time, but if he crossed at a gate, he would need to give his name, and they may have guards posted, looking for him. Also, Aleria would be more discriminating on whom they let enter the city this week, to avoid rowdy tourists. Aleria and Suriax were separated by the Therion River. It was hundreds of feet wide with only two bridges crossing it. On either bank stood a wall, so even if he could manage to cross the river, he had to find a way through, over or under the wall to actually get into the city. The main bridge was found at the center, northern side of Suriax. It was well guarded and the usual means of travel. The second bridge was located at the northwest side of the city, in an area known as Merchant’s Square. That route was even trickier.
Merchant’s Square was a common area of trade and commerce that stretched into both cities. Aleria monitored and policed the northern half, while Suriax took the southern half. The bridge between the two halves was not as closely monitored. People often traveled back and forth between the stores for shopping and trade. But the square was surrounded by a heavy wall and gates. Both cities tried to keep the activities of the square confined to that area.
He could always take the long way and sneak out of Suriax through one of the large exterior walls, then enter Aleria through one of the main gates, but that would take time and draw a lot of questions as to why a Suriaxian wouldn’t just come through one of the Suriax gates. Looked like he would need to get creative.
* * *
Laureen paid the fruit vendor and carried her basket away, slowly pulling out the note hidden under the apples. This was the only way to communicate without alerting anyone to her actual allegiance. She felt for the usual seal, but it was not there. This message was not from the queen. Confused, she read it. The note warned of a rouge flame guardsman being sought by Queen Maerishka. Word was he may be in Aleria. Details were sketchy, as usual for this method of communication. It was signed with a simple “F.G.” Another guardsman sent the note, meaning it was sent out of professional courtesy, to warn her of potential trouble in her current job. She considered the meaning. For the queen to search after a guardsman to the degree that would warrant sending this message, he must have some kind of information that was a threat. That meant a better than average chance he would bring the information to the Alerian monarchs to seek help or sanctuary. If he posed a threat to the crown, it was her duty to stop him. If he simply got on the queen’s bad side and wanted escape, she couldn’t care less. As long as he didn’t cross her or expose her Suriaxian origin, he could keep his life and his secrets. She tucked the note into a pocket and brought the food to the palace kitchen. Pretending to check the stew, she dropped the paper in the fire and watched it burn.
* * *
Kern crashed through the roof, landing on the floor of a small room. He really thought that branch would hold. Closing his eyes, he took inventory of all his body parts. With the way his head was throbbing, and the loud music playing in the next room, it took some time. The beautiful bells melody of a music box filled the air. Then the song ended, and he was left in silence. A fast knock sounded at the door. Kern froze. “Coming.” An elderly woman walked into the room and stopped, looking at Kern and up at the hole in the ceiling.
“Royal Guard,” the man behind the door called.
Kern pleaded silently. Walking around the mess in the room, she made her way to the door, never taking her eyes off him until she cracked the door open. “Yes, can I help you?”
“We’re looking for a man, half elf, who was seen around here.”
“Oh, my, what is he wanted for?” She asked with all sincerity.
“He is wanted by the queen for questioning”
“Well, I haven’t seen anything.”
“Ma’am, your neighbors heard some strange noises coming from your apartment. If I could just . . .” he tried to push his way in, but she didn’t budge.
“That was just me. I’m not as graceful as I used to be. Tripped on my rug coming into the living room and knocked over some things. Caused quite a mess, I’m afraid. If you’d like to help me clean . . .”
Her invitation had the desired effect. The guard mumbled a vague excuse and left. Kern waited until he couldn’t hear anyone outside before moving. “Thank you for not telling him I was here.”
The woman waved his thanks away. “What did you do to get the Royal Guard on your back? And how did you find yourself falling through my roof . . . which you will be paying to repair, of course.”
“Of course,” he dusted his pants off. “I saw the guard and tried to bide my time hiding in the tree branches above your home. Misjudged the strength of one, and you know the rest.”
She nodded. “There were a few branches hit by lightning in the last storm. You probably stepped on one of those. And why did you need to hide in the first place?”
“You’re probably better off not knowing.”
“Fair enough.”
Kern cracked the front door and looked for any sign of the guard. Pulling a coin purse out of his bag, he handed it to the woman. “This should cover the repairs.” He thought for a moment and considered his options. “You wouldn’t happen to know a quiet way into Aleria?”
The old lady grinned. “That will be extra.”
A few hours later, Kern was hiding in a carriage carrying fruit and goods, riding over the bridge to Aleria. Once they were through the second gate, the driver, the old lady’s neighbor, lifted the blanket covered in produce and let him out. He chastised himself that he hadn’t thought to check with a fruit vendor sooner. The Guard used them so often to courier messages discretely between the cities, such correspondences were known as “sending a cabbage.” Of course he never knew they also transported people.
Kern looked around the city. He never took any jobs in Aleria, at his uncle’s request, so this was a first for him. From the gate he could see the edge of a park. Both cities boasted parks at their center. With a large population of elves and half elves who favored being around nature, parks, homes and businesses built within trees and other plant life were common. But from his limited view, he could see Aleria’s park was easily four times that of Suriax’s. Unable to help himself, he walked around there, first. At the center of the park was a gazebo larger than most homes. It was decorated in flowers and ribbons. Chairs lined one side. Kern climbed a fairly large hill and looked around. You could see most of the city from there. The palace was north. To the east was a theater surrounded by inns and taverns. Whereas most people who visited Suriax came for the pit fighting or hound races, Aleria was known for its magnificent plays and music. Years of planning went into each production, and those who saw the plays talked about them endlessly for months afterwards. He heard they once recreated a battle at sea by flooding an inner level of the theater tree. The audience watched from seats nested among the branches. He always wanted to come here and view a show. Maybe he could bring his uncle to one later.
Kern looked back at the palace. It couldn’t hurt to look around the city a little on his way there. He was very curious about this place that could have been his home. Sliding down the hill, he headed for the street.
* * *
Maerishka entered the temple and bowed respectfully. She began her study with the clerics at a young age. Her father insisted on it, convinced pushing his daughter to worship Venerith would cause the god to bestow blessings upon him. That was before her parent’s conspired to kill her. Few people knew the entire story as to why she killed her parents. Veritan was a suspicious man. He grew to fear she would follow the example of her half siblings and have him overthrown. Her mother did not believe him at first, but he sowed the seeds of doubt and led her to seek a divination to learn if she would ever betray them. The answer was a simple “yes.” Instantly, she made plans to have Maerishka murdered on her daily ride to the country. What she did not know w
as that a maid overheard her plans and warned Maerishka. Ironically, it was their plans to kill her that led to her betrayal. She never considered it before, but as much as she loved her parents, self preservation won out. So, she poisoned their drinks and took the throne at a mere fifty years of age. Her method of attaining the throne was enough to help her keep it at first. No one wanted to cross someone cold enough to kill her own parents for power. No one else needed to know it was really out of self defense. To keep the throne, she had to become the conniving, calculating, power hungry woman they all believed her to be. It was exhausting, but she grew used to it. Now, she would stop at nothing to keep her throne. Anything less was not an option.
Kneeling by the alter, she made her customary sacrifice and prayed for guidance and blessings. Her stomach churned. Who dare think they could take her throne? She made Suriax what it was today. She pushed everyone to innovate, to be their best. Every job was important. The farmers created more efficient means to grow and harvest food. The architects were challenged to design creative and impossible buildings to withstand weather and push the envelope artistically. The magi were pushed to develop more powerful spells. Despite Suriax’s reputation for its questionable laws, her people were respected for their skills and often sought after for jobs all across the continent. She would not allow anyone to take what she built away from her.
“My Lord, hear my prayers. I have served you faithfully and will continue to do so until my dying breath. I shaped this kingdom and all her citizens to honor you. Everything I do is to honor you. This city belongs to you and you alone. Take her and all Suriaxians. I ask only that I am allowed to lead them, to spread your glory. Use us, bless us, allow us. . . allow me the tools to succeed.” She felt a burning in her belly and continued. “I am yours. Suriax is yours. Do with us what you will.” She looked up at the statue of Venerith that sat behind the altar. It was older than the city, brought in with the Flame Guard when they moved to Suriax shortly after its founding. Impressive in size, even though it showed him seated, the statue measured over six foot in height and showed him holding a large scroll. It was said if one put his or her hand on the scroll and swore an oath or made a bargain with Venerith, it became a binding agreement, not something to be entered into lightly. Your name was forever etched into the stone in the language of the gods. There were only three other names there. She approached the statue and felt the pressure in the room grow heavy. The candle flames turned to blue, casting an eerie glow over the room. The burning inside her spread to her chest. Before she could change her mind, she slapped her hand on to the stone scroll. “I give you Suriax and all her citizens in exchange for the power to keep my throne.” Her hand burned hot enough to make her scream, but she could not lift if from the stone. She watched in horror as blue flames rose from the scroll and ran up her arm, licking at the sides of her neck and face. She struggled to breath. The room behind the statue disappeared into darkness, ethereal eyes staring at her from either side of the statue’s head. A deep voice, soft, yet menacing echoed through the room, “Accepted.” A white hot agony seared through her skin and body. In a flash, the flames pulled back into the statue, the shadows retuning to normal. The eyes were gone. She could almost believe she imagined the entire thing, but her arm was covered in dark flame shaped markings. The stone scroll flashed for an instant, fire carving her name into the stone. She realized belatedly her name was not written in any language she knew, yet she was able to read it. The other names were still a mystery to her. Holding her arm she stumbled from the room, wondering what she had just done.
