Frustrated, Ruan was about to give up and leave. It seemed once again he had been kept from speaking to Jerran. Just then, the king poked his crowned head from behind one of the long, thick satin curtains.
"Is that you, Ruan?"
"Yes, Sire," replied Ruan, recognizing the king's voice.
"Well, it has been some time since you last visited, my old friend." Jerran pulled back the curtains, letting in a stream of bright sunlight. Brilliantly, the light bounced off the gold and silver of the room. The touch of the sun's rays brought the magnificent hall back to life. For a moment, the past years of darkness seemed to vanish.
"Come over here so we can have a look at you," invited King Jerran.
Ruan wanted to tell Jerran that he had tried to call on him several times before, but Torcull, the king's right-hand man, always had an excuse. According to the Prophet of the Severed Head, the king was either asleep, too busy, or feeling ill, and could not be bothered at the moment. Torcull would then smile and tell Ruan that he should call on the king at another time, but of course each time the story was the same. Joining the king on the balcony, Ruan reminded himself of the need for caution, so instead of telling the king the truth, the Baron of Keloran smiled and said, "Your lordship has been busy of late."
"That is true," the king mused with a slight nod of his head. "With the added burden of being High King, my time seems short these days." He slapped Ruan on the arm and gave him a genuinely warm smile, "but there should always be time for old friends. Do you not agree?"
"Yes, Sire."
"When did you start calling me Sire? We are old friends, and we are alone. Please, Ruan, you know you can call me by my name."
"Yes, Si ... Jerran," The name felt strange and caught in his throat. It seemed like years since he had last called the king by his name.
Ruan studied Jerran, looking for any signs that Torcull might be drugging him, but Jerran looked the same as he always had. The years under Torcull's influence had not seemed to have changed him. His dark hair with touches of gray at the temples gave him a look of distinction. In the courtly manner, he was clean shaven and kept his hair short and well-trimmed. He smiled broadly, and his presence had a reassuring influence. Jerran had the look of a kindly father that could always be trusted. His looks went a long way in his uncanny ability of persuasion. The king was a master at communicating ideas to the masses.
King Jerran could convince the people into just about anything. Unfortunately, that made him an ideal tool for Torcull.
"Is it not a beautiful sight?" Jerran said, indicating the view from the balcony.
The bright clear spring day bathed them in its warmth. From the height of the balcony, Ruan could look out over the Island of Gildas. Its fields were green and healthy. From the balcony, Gildas was a stunning sight. Strange, thought Ruan, that such a bright spring day should appear in a land of such darkness.
"Yes, Sire... Jerran, it is a truly beautiful day."
"We do not see each other enough," Jerran commented. "I am pleased you stopped by, but you did not come to talk of spring. What is on your mind?"
Ruan was silent. Now that he finally had the king alone, he was unsure if he should speak his mind.
"Come now," encouraged Jerran. "What can be so bad that you cannot tell your oldest friend?"
Ruan gave a solemn nod. But are you still the same man you once were? You look and act the same, but are you? Then he said with a deep frown, "I am concerned about you and the kingdom."
Jerran never stopped smiling, "Concerned? But why? Things have never gone better for Strigiol. We are the capital of all Kambrya except for one last kingdom to conquer, and that problem will soon be solved as well. We are the greatest nation that the land has ever seen. We are bringing in a golden age that shall last a thousand years!"
"But do we have the right to dominate the other kingdoms?"
"Dominate?" Jerran looked confused. "We did not conquer the kingdoms to dominate them. We have brought peace to the land, Ruan. Kambrya cannot survive as separate kingdoms. Someone had to step up and take charge; to unite us once more. Do you think I enjoy the wars?"
"No," admitted Ruan. He believed that Jerran honestly did not like the wars, but he also knew a land can never be unified by war. Peace was not something that can be forced upon a people. For a while, it may work, but in time it will fail. The other kingdoms resented Strigiol's strong-armed tactics. Fear was no way to rule a land. And how long would it be before Torcull decided he no longer needed Jerran? How long before Jerran disappeared like all the others? And then what? More wars? Or something far worse?
"We are bringing an end to the wars," Jerran continued. "Kambrya rejoices in our rule and in the newfound prosperity."
"Whose prosperity? Certainly not the other kingdoms. They are oppressed, and their toil and pain is what is making us so wealthy. The kingdoms have become our slave states," Ruan shook his head sadly. "You need to leave these palace walls, Jerran. You need to talk with your people and see with your own eyes what their lives are like. Come with me, Jerran. Together we can tour the kingdoms. If you are to be High King, then let it be for the good of all."
"I cannot leave my duties here," objected Jerran. "And I have been to Ceredigion and spoke with Parlan. The people are happy. You have my word on it."
"Parlan hardly counts," Ruan said, finding it hard to hide his contempt for the puppet king. "Parlan is a fool. He would say anything to keep his crown."
"Ruan!"
"I am sorry, Sire, if my words offend you, but Parlan is not the true heir to the throne.
Prince Elwin is..."
"A traitor to the crown," Jerran finished the sentence, cutting Ruan off.
"I do not claim to be Elwin's defender," Ruan added quickly. "If you name him a traitor and an enemy of Strigiol, then he is an enemy of mine as well. But what if this traitor rallies the people to rebel against you? Should you not know where the people stand?"
"Torcull assures me that the people love me and that Elwin is no threat to the peace. None will follow him."
Ruan sighed. Torcull has you fooled, my friend. Only here in Gildas do you still hold the people's affection, and that too is waning. Who can trust a king that has allowed the Severed Head to spread? "Then you trust... the Prophet?"
"Torcull? Of course. Do you not?"
Ruan swallowed hard. He had to be careful now. Perhaps Ruan had gone too far already. "It is just that he uses the Black Army and the Severed Head to control the people. And there are the stories. They are horrible. They say..."
Jerran cut Ruan off with a wave of his hand, "I know what they say, and it is nonsense. Torcull is a great and holy man, and his wisdom has made our land prosperous beyond belief. Gildas is the richest city in all the Kingdoms."
"That is true," a voice came from behind them. Ruan spun on his heels. Standing just inside the glass doors was Torcull, the Prophet of the Severed Head. His flawless face lay just within the shadows of the throne room. His cold blue eyes threateningly gazed out at Ruan.
Ruan met the Prophet's intense stare and wondered how much the man had heard.
Nervously, Ruan started twisting the course hairs of his beard, and then he snatched his hand back to his side. I can’t afford to look as scared as I feel.
"Gildas is indeed a wonder to behold," Torcull went on. "An inspiration to all of Kambrya."
"Greetings," smiled Jerran.
Torcull nodded his head towards the king. "Greetings to you, my Sire." He then fixed his cold stare on Ruan and gave another nod, "and to you, Lord Ruan."
Ruan nodded, trying not to look nervous, meeting the Prophet's eyes with his own steady gaze. He was determined not to let the Prophet see his fear. "Will you come out and enjoy the day with us?"
Frowning ever so slightly, Torcull turned back to Jerran and stayed in the shadows. "I see the good Lord has paid a visit to your Majesty. I am glad you two had a chance to visit. I hope I have not interrupted you. Perhaps I should come back at
a later time."
"Not at all," replied Jerran. "You two are my most trusted friends. And you may also be of assistance. Our good Lord Ruan is troubled."
Ruan felt his throat go dry. Don’t let your fear show!
"Oh?" replied Torcull, raising his thin eyebrows. He clasped his hands behind his back.
"What is bothering our good Lord?"
"Nothing, really," said Ruan, hoping the king would let it drop. He did not.
"Lord Ruan believes the people are not happy with my rule, and fears the traitor Prince
Elwin will lead an insurrection."
"Ah, I see," Torcull said. Looking from the shadows, his eyes never left Ruan's. "You may be assured that our sovereign is well loved, Lord Baron. And in time, Elwin will be captured and brought before King Jerran for treason. The rebel prince cannot elude the High King's justice forever."
"Of course," said Ruan, trying to undo the damage. "I am sure that I am just worrying too much. I can see things are in good hands." Ruan bowed to the king. "If my Sire will excuse me, I have matters I must attend to."
"As you wish, Ruan," replied the king. "I hope your mind will rest easier."
"It shall, Sire."
"Good," Jerran responded, "and do not be a stranger. My door is always open to my friends."
"Your Majesty does me honor." Ruan bowed once more and backed off the balcony, slipping past Torcull. Ruan tried not to meet the Prophet’s eyes again. Ruan could almost feel a threat behind Torcull's unblinking eyes. Turning, Ruan then hurried across the throne room, suddenly anxious to escape the hall.
"Ruan is a good man," Jerran said as he watched the Baron retreat. "Is he not?"
"Does he not tend to be overly critical of your majesty's policies?"
"Nonsense," replied Jerran. "Ruan is a cautious man. That is all. There is none more loyal to me than the Baron of Keloran, that is, except for you."
"As you say, your Majesty. May we go inside, your Majesty?" Torcull added, shading his eyes with a raised hand. "The sun is bright today."
"Oh, yes. I keep forgetting your sensitivity to light."
"A small enough sacrifice," mumbled Torcull under his breath as he followed the king into the throne room. The Prophet stopped momentarily to close the curtains. Dark shadows once more reclaimed the chamber.
Sitting down, Jerran leaned back into his elaborate eagle throne. "It is a shame about your eyes. It is such a lovely day."
"I have lived with the ailment a long time, my Lord. It no longer feels like a disadvantage, and my night vision makes up for it."
"I know how you must feel, Torcull." Jerran nodded knowingly. "As you live with the burden of your eyes, I too have burdens. As High King, my work never seems to be done. And I always do worry about my people."
"That is what I am here for, to help relieve you of some of the weight of being High King."
"Ah, yes. You are kind to help. However, sometimes I feel guilty for letting you do so much. Still, the ultimate decisions lie in my two hands." With a look of concern, the king gazed down at his hands. He slowly turned them over as if he was seeing them for the first time. "Perhaps these two hands," he held them up so Torcull could see them, "have not been carrying their fair share of the burden. I see my people so rarely nowadays. I should see them more. Maybe I will do as Ruan suggested and tour the provinces and see for myself how things are. Not that I do not trust you, Torcull, but it is my burden and not yours.”
"It is no burden, your majesty. It is an honor to serve you." Torcull hated these conversations with the king. It tried the Prophet's patience. More than once, he had thought of drugging the king or killing him and be done with it, but Jerran still had his uses. And he still needed the High King to fulfill his dream and rise to ultimate power. Jerran was also the perfect puppet king. The truth was, Jerran cared little for the responsibility of being a ruler. The king liked the public speeches and elegant courtly parties. Happily, he left the rest to Torcull, but every so often the king decided to indulge himself in the illusion of being on top of things. This appeared to be one of those times. Lord Ruan has put this idea into your head, thought Torcull. Perhaps it is time for the good Baron to have an unfortunate accident.
"I wish father was still here," the king said so quietly that Torcull could barely hear. "He was good at running the kingdom, better than I am. No great speaker, but he was a wise man and a great king."
"I wish things had been different myself, your majesty, but the good King Conrad has passed from this world. May his soul be at peace." Torcull hesitated for only a moment. "It is a shame he exiled me. I feel that if I had been near, I could have cured his illness."
"I never did understand why father exiled you." Jerran took the golden crown off the arm of his throne, turning it slowly in his hands. It was a wreath of pounded gold. It was not the ceremonial crown, but the everyday crown. Even so, Jerran did not like wearing it. It reminded him of his father. The king's death had come so quickly, and because of the disease, he could not even see the body for danger of contracting the deadly disease. Ever since the death of his father, Jerran had felt lost. I wonder if this crown weighed as heavy for you father as it does for me. He rolled the crown in his hands, then reaching above his head, he hung the jewel covered crown on one of the eagle's outstretched wings. "Father would have been wiser to use your council, as I do. Perhaps if he had, he would still be alive, and the Kingdom in his capable hands rather than mine."
“Remember it was you who called me back when your father grew ill,” added Torcull. “It was too late for me to save him, but I was able to ease his passing. You are both a good king and son.”
“I am not the wise king he was.”
"You are indeed a very wise king, my lord. While your father was a truly great man, he did not possess your vision. It is you who has brought Kambrya under one sovereign. For the first time since the ancient kings, the land will be whole again. Within the next few months, you will launch your attack on Mythra and complete what others thought impossible. Peace will once more will govern the land. Your vision has brought back the golden days of old."
Jerran nodded his head. Obtaining peace throughout the Eight Kingdoms was the driving force behind all his actions. Only Mythra stood in the way. Yes, he thought, people have been hurt along the way, but what else could I do? It is for the people that I have conquered. The good of all has always been my goal. But still, I do not think father would have approved. Am I wrong?
"Sire, you have done what is best," Torcull went on as if he could read the king's mind.
Jerran met Torcull's light blue eyes. Yes, Torcull is right, of course. This is all for the best. The suffering of a few cannot stand in the way of a better world.
"How are things in Ceredigion?" Jerran suddenly asked, changing the subject. "Is Parlan having troubles? Soon I will need to withdraw most of my men out of Acair, but perhaps I should keep a sizeable garrison behind."
"He has things under control. If you wish, you may leave some of the Strigiol regulars behind, but I will recall the Black Army. They will be needed against Mythra." The king shifted uncomfortably in his throne. He disliked the idea that Torcull had full control over the Black Army. With its troops made up from the Severed Head's faithful, the Black Army was by far the strongest force in all the Kingdoms. It seemed wrong to Jerran that he, the king, should have so little influence over it. However, the Black Army was a religious force and was rightfully under the Severed Head's leadership.
"If you are concerned that Parlan will lose his grip over the Kingdom, you need not be, Sire." A smile crossed Torcull's flawless face. "There is nothing to worry about. The Black Army has put fear into Ceredigion. They will not fight again... not even if Prince Elwin himself were there to lead them. And that will not happen."
"Oh!" said Jerran. "That reminds me. I wanted to ask you. Has the Prince been captured yet? You said it would be soon."
"No, my Lord."
"No? But I thought..."
"
It is not something you need concern yourself about. Make your speeches and woo the people and I will handle the Prince of Ceredigion."
"I appreciate your help," Jerran said, trying to look kingly, "but these are things a sovereign needs to know. So I shall ask again. Why has the Prince not been captured? Were you able to speak with your monk? You said you would be able to."
Torcull sighed. "Yes, I can speak to the Red Robe through what is called a Dream Walk, and I have done so." And since the Red Monk created a link to Elwin, Torcull could also reach the Prince through Dream Walking, but he saw no reason to tell the king that. Dream Walking also has its limitations, the Dream Walk could not tell him where the prince was hiding. There was also something that bothered the Prophet about the way the last dream had ended. It was as if the Prince had been snatched away from him. Someone had interfered with the dream, but whom? Faynn? No, he could not have done that. The old man might be able to guard his dreams, but he could not snatch him away like that, not without me knowing it. The Guardians of Light perhaps? In a few days, I will try again, and I will find some answers.
"And the Prince, is he in Reidh County as you thought?"
"He is there. The Red Robe nearly captured him, but Elwin had some ... unexpected help. The prince got away and is hiding somewhere in the county."
"Oh, I see," the king nodded, but he had a confused look on his face. "But won't Elwin try to reach Ceredigion? Perhaps he has already left the county."
"No, Elwin has not slipped past me... us I mean. He is there hiding somewhere, and in a short time, his hiding place will be discovered. And this time, he will not escape."
Earth Magic Page 10
