by Gary Bregar
The weight of what Dicen was saying crept into Zander’s mind slowly and he began to understand. Everything was a lie handed down unknowingly by those who had already been handed the lie themselves. It had been set like fire so far back in time, that there would be no one to blame for the deception.
He lowered his head, staring into his lap. There were other kings and other wars! By the honor of all the Fathers, I will not make the same mistake. If it comes to it, they will know—they will all know the truth. I will not be so greedy as them.
Dicen, sensing Zander’s conflict, said “I believe that you may be bargaining with yourself, Zander—making promises to yourself that you may or may not keep. Do not trouble yourself with such matters, for the future has not been laid yet.
“Before the last war, there was peace in Mantle, very much as it is today. That war was fought over the course of only sixteen of your months, although some wars have been much shorter and some have been much longer. The Outlands during that time were covered in green forests and meadows, the Skites having been defeated. At the onset of the last Mantle War, as you know it, Dark Weed began to grow as well. But in its hibernation, it had changed, gotten stronger and found new ways of presenting death to its victims. Presumably, this was done to prevent the allied kingdoms of Forris, Bore, and Tongar from learning historical methods for defeating it. Little did the weed’s evolution know that no such knowledge would be passed along to future generations—by any of the kingdoms.”
Dicen seems almost bitter—angry even—that the advice of the Trees has been ignored so many times. If this pattern doesn’t end with me, how long will the Trees continue with patience? Zander thought.
“Once the Dark Weed appeared, it wasn’t long before the Skites would make their appearance as well, just as you are beginning to witness yourself. Although I am unable to predict exactly when the Skites will come, I will tell you that it is inevitable.
“Yours is a circumstance that hasn’t been seen before, however. The physical body of the Skite king may only be defeated by removing the skull from the body.
“The body of the Skite king is of no concern, however, as it is only conjured up from Menagraff himself, and has no other natural maker. The skull, however, is another matter. If it is made whole once more, and returned to Skite lands, Menagraff will gain the proper strength and tools needed to conjure another body for its use.
“Throughout the whole of Mantle’s history, in every war that we Trees have witnessed, the victory was had by the three kingdoms which stand as allies today. And each time, one of the three kingdoms—that with the gravest losses—was tasked with protecting the skull of the Skite king, which long before had been dubbed The Dark Leash. Alas, each time it found its way back to the mountain of Narciss, deep within Skite lands.
“At the end of the last Mantle War, fought by King Reginald and the others, the skull had been broken into three equal pieces by the edge of a Skite sword wielded by a Skite. The enemy warrior had attempted a defense of his king as he lay wounded by both spell and sword. As the king of Bore was preparing to bring down his sword on the helpless body of the Skite king, the Skite warrior brought his first, missing the king of Bore and striking his own king instead, breaking his skull into three.
“The Skite king had been eliminated, at least temporarily, and since the lessons of previous wars had not been shared, the allied leaders only knew to remove the skull from Skite lands. They knew nothing of the consequences of its return.
“But the Skites knew. They knew that the king’s skull must be returned to Skite, and the unfortunate luck of an accident by one of their own warriors would not deter them from planning the king’s return.
“Unlike previous victories, the three allied kingdoms had each claimed one piece of the skull for safekeeping. They had no knowledge that reuniting the pieces would trigger the Skites’ return; their motivation was much more political in nature. They would each claim decisive proof of the victory, and therefore the morale of their citizens would be lifted. The skull would be a thing to be celebrated. This proved to be irrelevant later, when they would bury all mention and memory of the war itself—or their victory in it.
“Without their king, the Skites began to lose power and quickly died, their bodies returning to the soil of Narciss. But before they did, Menagraff devised a trap—three traps, really. Three inflocks were dispatched, one to each kingdom. Each of these was sent with a single purpose—returning Menagraff to his throne as the king of Skite.”
Zander, who had been listening with such intensity, caught himself forgetting to breathe, and now opened his mouth in shocked horror. He hoped that Dicen would answer his newfound question before he would need to ask it.
“The arrival of the Dark Weed means that Menagraff’s spirit has gained in strength. Two of the three pieces have been united in the mountain of Narciss. We do not know of the circumstances by which these two came together, but we do know that the third piece is kept in Forris under your protection. Our roots run deep and we would have known of its absence.”
Zander instantly felt an urge to take command, ordering the skull’s protection and finding the inflock. He knew nothing of either, so he refrained from speaking. An interruption might be taken as rude and he would have no time to make the necessary apologies to the Trees.
But Dicen felt the question lingering, “Zander, would you like to cure your curiosity with a question?”
“Yes, thank you, Lord Dicen. As I’ve had no knowledge of the skull piece until now, I do not know of its location. Might you please tell me how I could go about protecting the skull, and finding the inflock, given that I cannot identify either?”
“That is a very good question, young Zander. Very good, indeed,” Dicen said, and Zander thought he heard a twinge of satisfaction in his tone.
“The skull should be simple enough to locate, as it is what your people refer to as the Crown of Forris. If you locate one, you’ve located the other—for they are the same.”
This came as a shock to Zander, who always believed that the Crown of Forris was an actual crown, perhaps from the first of the Forie kings. That the myth of the crown had grown in order to cover the lie that had been created centuries ago bothered him deeply. What he always believed, and quite likely his father believed also, was that the Crown of Forris was the jewel beneath the throne, a symbol of continuity and security. Now he was suddenly learning that it was but a mere crypt, housing the amputated spirit of an evil king from another land.
“As for the inflock,” Dicen continued, “that may prove more difficult. The inflock cannot gain enough power to become a threat to you, unless it has found a suitable host. This host would need to be of a dark heart. If it finds this host, it will use this willing victim to further its purpose. Your challenge will be finding the host, a person of ill intent and bad will.”
Zander wasn’t sure this would be so difficult. After all, Forris was not riddled with thieves and villains. A person of evil nature should be simple enough to see, as he imagined it would be fairly difficult to mask ill intent.
Zander, sensing that Dicen was allowing time for inquiry, finally asked the one question that would determine the future of Forris and Mantle; if not for this generation, then for the next.
“Can the Crown of Forris and the inflock be destroyed, my Lord?”
“The spirit of Menagraff cannot be destroyed, young Zander. Not entirely. But you can eliminate his ability to return, with an equally opposing force.”
“What force would be equal to that of Menagraff, my Lord?”
“The spirit of Menagraff is evil in its purest form—the center of evil in this world. The force that you must find will require virtue that can match this evil and overbear it. If such virtue exists, you must enlist it for your cause. The spirit of Menagraff requires the skull in order to return in a physical body and to summon his warriors. Therefore, elimination of the skull itself will prevent that return.
“The inflock,
being an extension of Menagraff’s spirit, will lay dormant, unable to draw its full power until it has found its host. Once it has found that host, it will have only one mission—procuring the skull and returning it to Skite lands. It, too, will always continue to exist, but its mission can be defeated.”
Zander was confused by this, and Dicen felt it.
“You seem troubled, young Zander.”
“Yes, my Lord. I was always taught to believe that good had the ability to triumph over evil, that evil could ultimately be destroyed by the good nature of the world. Is this not so?”
“Zander, how would you measure good if there were no evil? Good and evil are opposing forces, much like the directions of north and south. While north and south are separate by definition, they are pushing against each other in an unwinnable battle, so that they are in infinite change, depending on the direction one looks or walks. Zander, you could be standing in the far north, and make a personal decision to walk south. In the moment of your decision, the south has lost ground and the direction of north has won territory.
“Much is the same between good and evil. The decisions made by those living in this world will determine the borders for each. For many centuries now, you have lived in a world where good has prevailed in its battle with evil. Now, the battle has shifted and evil has gained strength. You must beat back that strength.
“Neither good nor evil can ever truly be eliminated. They may both individually be defeated, but they will always flicker in existence. Try to imagine the impossibility of a world without any form of evil. Even in this impossible world, one would be forced to measure levels of good, leaving something at the lower levels—thereby creating evil by default. It is a paradox that cannot be broken. The best you might do is to defeat evil and send it into exile.”
Zander felt a deep sadness at what Dicen had said. He knew it was true, but it was a knowledge that he and all others seemed to ignore. He supposed that holding an illusion that evil could be eliminated was really no more than a necessary survival instinct.
Dicen broke Zander’s thoughts. “Zander, the skull continues to be kept in Forris; we would have felt its departure, as I’ve said. You must keep safe the crown and beware of the inflock. My counsel on this matter has concluded for today.”
And with that, their meeting had ended, the sun now creeping toward its hiding place. Zander walked in deep thought back to his guards, who had patiently waited for his return just outside the forest. He found them lounging in the grass, knees up to the sky. There would be no danger for Zander while in the forest, the Trees would not allow it, so Zander would not scold them. He only thought that the look of them seemed pathetic given what was sure to come. They had no idea that their casual nature was about to be plucked from them.
****
Balki’s plan of sabotage seemed simple enough; he would greet the king before sunrise and plant false curiosity about things that would anger the Trees. And while it might have seemed simple, he hadn’t counted on the possibility that the king might leave sooner than expected. When he went looking for the king just before first light, he was told that he had, indeed, left for his meeting with the Trees hours earlier than planned. Balki was furious with himself. He hadn’t accounted for all of the possibilities, and now the king was likely made aware of the inflock’s presence in his kingdom.
Although his task might be more difficult now, Balki wasn’t sure exactly how. He still didn’t have full knowledge of his own mission. The inflock, continuing to gain power, was now feeding Balki false memories. These false memories began to act like the pieces to a puzzle, fitting together slowly to form a complete understanding. He was beginning to understand the inflock, the Skites, and what he would be required to do. The details and method of his treason had yet to be disclosed, but he did know that time would be short.
Now he would wait to see how much of his newfound knowledge the king would be willing to share with his council. He could fill in any details later when he had the king alone, his will at Balki’s mercy.
****
King Zander returned to Obengaard in the early-morning hours, and at sunrise summoned his counselors. He hadn’t slept, but he couldn’t bear to hold what he knew alone; he needed other minds also focused on the problems at hand. He had spent the ride back to Obengaard contemplating his meeting with the council, and when he arrived home, he found himself thinking to wake Bella to ask her advice. He didn’t—he would not tell her of the imminent threat. Such things would only worry her, he thought, and he would only tell her when he must.
When he took his seat at the Concord Block that morning, he began his recounting of Dicen’s counsel to his advisers. He had prepared to tell them nearly everything, but found himself holding on to the knowledge of past wars and repeated mistakes. If they went to war, it would be his burden to ensure that lessons would be learned by future generations. He would be the one to lead them in a direction of self-assessment, and remembrance of the battles they had fought and the loved ones they had lost. He would not shatter their illusion of the world they lived in, when there would be nothing to gain from it. He would not be so cruel.
As he told of the skull’s presence in the kingdom, he deliberately neglected to tell them that it was, in fact, the Crown of Forris. He had put much thought into his decision to omit the fact, and had finally concluded that it came down to who he could trust. In order for the inflock to succeed in its mission, it would need to be close within royal circles. He would not risk it.
When he had finally finished conveying all that he would tell them, the table erupted in immediate conversation. Each councilor raised his voice to be heard above the next, until the room was full with a single roaring sound.
Zander remained calm, reached for a brass weight that lay before him, and slammed it to the Block. The noise created was a thundering boom that rendered all in the room silent immediately.
“Gentlemen, would we act like savages to address a threat by savages? Zander asked. “Sit, all of you, and voice your concerns as gentlemen of the King’s Council—not babblers on the floor of a pub.”
“Where is the skull?” It was Crook who had asked the question, but they all nodded their heads and murmured agreement. Balki, however, remained silent.
“I do not know, but we must find it. Search the archives and libraries for any hint of its location so that we might protect it,” Zander said, hoping that he had sounded convincing.
Balki saw something, though. He saw that the king had looked away when he had said he did not know of the skull’s location. It had only been a quick glance, but he had looked away nonetheless. He had revealed himself, and Balki knew at once, that King Zander knew precisely where the skull had been kept all these many years. And if the king knew, then he would know soon enough himself.
Monarchs
LIZABET WAS AMAZED at how much there was to see at Obengaard. Bannister Castle itself was so large and odd in design, due to ages of modification, that in just over a week’s time in her new home she felt like she hadn’t even come close to exploring all of its secrets. She would have time, she supposed.
She had discovered one thing along her adventures so far, though—she had an admirer. She had noticed that one of the outer butlers had been watching her on occasion. She had only caught sight of him from the corner of her eye, but she thought that it might be the outer butler that she had exchanged smiles with at the gate when they arrived at Obengaard on that first wonderful day.
This spying had gone on during her last four outings, and now as she left her room for another walk through the castle, she thought that it was time for proper introductions. Although the maid who had accompanied them in the carriage during their trip to Obengaard had advised against speaking with the Lopers, she would confront him and make his acquaintance the next time he appeared.
This day, she knew exactly where she would explore. The day before she had discovered doors that opened to a seemingly abandoned area of the castle. Un
til then, she hadn’t thought that there were any parts of the castle that went unused, but it was clear that her assumptions were wrong.
As she walked through the corridors of the castle, on her way to her destination, she smiled at each passing person she had already met, wishing each of them a happy morning. Those who she had not met she stopped to make introductions with, before going on her way.
When she reached the abandoned area of the castle, she walked down the dusty corridor to its end, where she was met by two large doors on either side of the hall.
She quietly opened the door on the left to find it empty except for a few scattered pieces of broken furniture lying about, covered in dust.
Finding nothing of interest in the first room, she turned and entered the second room. There was less light in this room since the only window was but a small square set high on the far wall.
Lizabet’s eyes adjusted and she immediately looked at the small wooden door which sat directly below the window. When she had first seen the door, during her exploring the day before, she was certain that it would lead outside. But to her surprise, when she had first opened it, she found a staircase that led down into darkness.
This time, though, she had brought provisions. She opened the door, and pulled out a small crystal light from her pocket. It had been a gift from the Emm, who no doubt had a supply of such trinkets on hand for such an occasion as the arrival of the soon-to-be queen’s sister. When he had given it to her, he had watched her expression as if waiting for her to gasp or faint in wonder. She saw his anticipation and increased her interest in the crystal as much as she could. After all, in her own village, pigs could cause it to rain, so she thought that a light could only be as impressive as a light.
