Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  “Are we not going over old ground here, my lord?” Jolas asked. “We can only do so much at once and the training here in Vylandor is producing some excellent soldiers.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Afaron pushed himself up from the chair. “I intend to leave Vylandor soon and travel to Kariska, followed by Shulgard and Karthain. I will then return via Ashgar. It will take some time but I will review the available resources as I visit each.”

  “What of Naskador?” Karrid tapped his finger over the notorious city on the map.

  “We will wait until the infiltrators have been fully trained and they will lead the way,” replied Afaron. “I intend these men to be more than just spies. They need to be ruthless in order to bring down the thieves of Naskador.”

  Jolas traced a line from Naskador along the river. “Have you thought about Barentin, Tamriel and Boraila?”

  “I have. The north of the kingdom is my next focus. Border posts, new roads for trade with Morassia, more bridges for easy access, more men posted at Turambar…there is much to be done there.”

  Afaron walked around the table, coming to stand between the councillors. He looked down at the map and smiled.

  “Our ancestors wrote of dreams they had for the kingdom to flourish and so it shall.”

  Jolas turned to face the king. “Who shall be joining you on this expedition to the eastern cities?”

  “Are you volunteering?” laughed Afaron, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “No, my lord. Somebody has to stay here and run the kingdom in your absence. I merely wondered whether you are taking your personal guard only or whether you will add to the entourage.”

  “Perhaps some of the council could join you,” Karrid said, shrugging. “I haven’t been east for some time…not since Arelya was little anyway.”

  “I hear your daughter has grown into a very beautiful young woman,” Afaron noted, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Karrid frowned at him. “Arelya is headstrong, like her mother. Not your type I fear, my lord.”

  “Don’t worry,” Afaron told him, giving Jolas a knowing look. “I won’t be looking for a queen until I return from the east.”

  “Perhaps Toresin should accompany you this time,” suggested Jolas. “He does seem to think that he runs the city when you are away. We have had several arguments recently and I feel he may need time away from his beloved Vylandor.”

  “Well he is captain of the guards,” said Afaron, leaning down to study the map closer. “I suggest you resolve your differences before I return.”

  “One other I believe would benefit from joining you would be young Talgan.”

  “Someone else you don’t get on with, Jolas?” chuckled Afaron, not moving his eyes from the map.

  “Its not that, sire. Talgan has seemed preoccupied recently and has become quick to anger. I thought that perhaps he would appreciate spending time away from the capital. For one as young as he, the duties of a councillor can be stressful.”

  Karrid nodded in agreement. “I have noticed that Talgan spends most of his time locked away in his study and only seems to emerge to be present for meetings here.”

  “He came with me to see the new recruits training recently and was not himself when he spoke with Arlath Thellis,” Jolas added.

  “Very well,” Afaron cried. “How can I say no when the two of you work together against me? I will ask Talgan to come with me…but not Toresin.”

  Jolas shot Karrid a wide grin. “As you wish, sire.”

  Chapter 22

  Talgan woke from another dark dream and quickly checked the shadowy corners of his bedroom. He had dreamt of the foreigner who had visited him only a handful of times but whose mere presence heralded a new era for the Rotian people. During their last meeting, Talgan had foolishly reached for his sword and the warning hissed by the foreigner had chilled him to the bone. In his dream, there was no warning and instead the man had been upon him, slicing and stabbing with black blades.

  When he was certain he was alone in the bedroom, Talgan shook the sleep from his head, trying also to dislodge the doubts he had over his new alliance with this foreigner and his associates. It was these thoughts that fuelled his nightmares; sheer terrifying panic of the unknown.

  He knew very little about this force which would overthrow the current regime and the words spoken by the foreigner during the last visit had haunted him since. What had happened to the border post in the far north and what fate had since befallen Barentin? How large was the force approaching from the north? There were too many questions without answers and Talgan would have to press for more information when the man next returned.

  Glancing at the window, he could see stars still twinkling in the night sky but he could no longer sleep. He moved from his bed and shivered before fetching a robe. Heading out of the bedroom, he made for his study. His servants were in their beds and the house was silent, but the nobleman preferred hearing them going about their daily work. It was relaxing knowing that they were nearby. Many of them had served his father before him and were completely loyal to the Akalla family.

  Talgan thought of his parents as he entered the study and moved to light several candles. How would his actions affect them? When his father retired from the council seat, his parents had moved from their home of twenty years and now lived in a smaller estate near the docks. Talgan had been handed the council title, the mansion, the servants and the finances whilst his parents started afresh in their new home. It was as if his father had wanted no reminders of his past. Now, if war came to Vylandor, his parents would be in danger just like everybody else. Yet, if his foreign associates did manage to usurp the king and take control without too much bloodshed, then his parents would benefit from the rewards bestowed upon him for helping change the regime.

  Talgan walked around his desk but stopped as he caught his reflection in one of the tall mirrors hanging on the wall to his right. Moving closer, he studied the man staring back at him, his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.

  “No wonder people look at you strangely now,” he told his reflection.

  Once a clean shaven youthful-looking man who ensured he always looked his best, Talgan now had a dark patchy beard and his hair had grown long. His hazel eyes looked tired and his face was gaunt. The concerns that plagued his mind had taken their toll on him and he realized that he had to freshen himself up as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, he would have his hair cut and his beard shaved off.

  “You are Talgan Akalla,” he exclaimed angrily. “What you do now is for the good of the kingdom and its people.”

  He had to believe that and ensure that the guilty thoughts eating at him were locked away in the deep recesses of his mind. He would only draw attention to himself looking like this. In the morning, he would become the vain young nobleman again that everybody knew.

  Talgan tore himself away from the unkempt image in the mirror and sat at his desk. There he sat reading various letters and council documents until the sun began to rise. As soon as he heard the first bird calls outside, he returned to his bedroom and dressed. By the time he arrived back downstairs, servants were beginning their daily chores and he greeted each one with a friendly smile.

  He ate breakfast and then returned to his study, taking out a heavy leatherbound book. In this, he began writing a list of tasks needing to be completed during the coming days. He had shirked certain responsibilities for too long and was determined to get them done before Jolas or the other council members began asking questions. Once he had received a hair cut and shave, he would get to work.

  He finished the list and, as he went to leave the study, quickly looked out of one of the windows. The morning sun was bright and the day looked pleasant. Two gardeners were out in the grounds already tending to the flower beds.

  Talgan headed for the front door to the mansion but, as he opened it, he saw an entourage walking up the path towards him. His stomach twisted as he saw the king at the front, with four
of his personal guard marching behind. They in turn were followed by Toresin and seven city guards. Panic flared in Talgan’s mind. How had they found out about his betrayal?

  “Good morning, sire.” He bowed and tried to ignore the thoughts of fleeing.

  “You know I dislike people bowing, Talgan,” said Afaron, coming to a halt before the nervous nobleman.

  Something in the king’s tone told Talgan that this visit was nothing to be concerned over and he relaxed slightly. “What can I do for you this morning?” he smiled.

  “You can invite us in to begin with,” Afaron replied impatiently.

  “Of course. I apologise for forgetting my manners.”

  Talgan beckoned them inside and watched as they filed into his home one-by-one. Toresin ordered his city guards to wait for them outside the mansion and then entered, glancing at Talgan as he did so.

  The nobleman did not like the captain of the guards much. The grey-haired Toresin was always abrupt and quick to temper, plus he was reknowned for his investigative talents and often shot Talgan suspicious looks. Still, most people wanted to stay on Toresin’s good side as the man was powerful and an excellent swordsman, despite approaching his fifty-fourth year.

  Talgan took a deep breath as he followed Toresin inside and closed the door behind him. He then led them all through to his study, ordering that drinks be brought as he passed one servant. The king’s personal guard took up positions outside the room as Afaron sat in one of the comfortable chairs by the cold fireplace. Talgan sat opposite him and Toresin refused a third seat, instead walking to stand gazing from a window.

  “Why do you bother insisting on escorting me when you refuse any comforts offered?” Afaron asked the captain.

  Toresin clasped his hands behind his back. “I am on duty, sire.”

  Afaron looked across at Talgan and rolled his eyes. “Very well. I will get to the point of my visit quickly as I’m sure you have a busy day ahead.”

  “I am intrigued, sire, as you have not visited me here before.”

  “Jolas, Karrid and I were talking recently and they expressed concerns that you were somewhat preoccupied. I can see by your appearance that perhaps these concerns are correct.”

  Talgan glanced at Toresin and saw that the captain was watching him. “I apologise for my appearance. I was actually on my way to freshen up when you arrived as I realized that this is no way for a councillor to look.”

  “Glad to hear it,” smiled Afaron warmly. “Although with some care and attention, the beard can look quite good.” He stroked the trimmed growth upon his own chin.

  Just then, there was a soft knock at the door. Talgan called out and a servant entered the study carrying a tray with various refreshments upon it. Nervously, she placed the tray down next to Talgan and then left the room as quickly as possible.

  “Talgan, I am going to Kariska soon to review the recruitment resources and to spend some time amongst the people there. Once I finish, I will be moving on to Shulgard, Karthain and finally Ashgar before returning here. I would like you to accompany me.”

  Talgan looked surprised. “I don’t understand, sire. Why me?”

  “You are young, as I am, and staying here in Vylandor can tend to stretch your nerves to their limit. There is always something needing our attention in the capital and sometimes you need a change of scenery.

  I believe that accompanying me would do you the world of good. You can meet with the officials and report back to me obviously but it gives you a chance to spend some time getting to know each location. Have you ever been to Fort Calden?”

  “I have not had need to go there before,” replied Talgan. “Do you plan to visit the men there also?”

  “Most likely. You have not experienced the thrill of staring along the pass to Skarda, where there is so much history.”

  Toresin cleared his throat. “Sire, with all due respect, you should not visit Calden. You are already going too near to Naskador for my liking.”

  “Why must everyone worry so much?” snapped Afaron. “I won’t visit Naskador yet. We are training the infiltrators to hopefully deal with that problem as you know. As for Calden, the men based there need the occasional lift, don’t you think? A simple show of support from their king would go a long way and do wonders for morale.”

  “It is very different living in the shadows of the Darov mountains,” said Toresin. “Life on the coast here is easy compared to that of Karthain. They still feel the aftermath of the Skardan attacks.”

  “Enough,” growled Afaron, glaring at the captain. “They need their king and I will not shy away from the darker corners of the land.”

  Talgan watched the exchange between the two men and felt the pangs of guilt begin stabbing at his heart again. Afaron may have been a naïve ruler but at least he cared for the people. Then again, that was also a weakness which would ultimately have brought ruin to the kingdom had Talgan not aided the foreigners. A king should understand the importance of taxing the people enough and making sacrifices where necessary. Still, Talgan could not shift the weight of the guilt that had now returned.

  “Sire, perhaps we should simply go to Kariska and Shulgard then return,” suggested the young nobleman.

  Afaron thought a moment. “No. If we are going east then it makes sense to visit the others too.”

  Talgan did not wish to travel as far north as Karthain or Ashgar. That would take him too close to the river and his associates, if they had not already moved that far into the kingdom. However, the thought did enter his mind that being away from Vylandor would mean he was free to flee elsewhere if need be and he could stay out of harms way until Afaron was removed from power.

  “You are right of course,” Talgan nodded, still battling the conflict in his mind. “Do you need my answer now or can I let you know my decision in a day or so?”

  “Either you want to go or you don’t,” stated Afaron. “Either way, tell me now.”

  Talgan knew that he should not hesitate any further with a response otherwise the suspicious Toresin would surely start thinking he had something to hide.

  “It would be an honour to accompany you, sire.”

  Afaron grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear. You have plenty of time before we depart though so I will let you know the exact date at the next council meeting.”

  The more Talgan thought about it, the better the notion seemed. He would get away from the capital and try to forget what was happening in the north for now. If he was with the king also, nobody would suspect him of betrayal.

  He poured Afaron a drink. “I look forward to our journey.”

  Chapter 23

  Light rain fell on the city of Boraila as Draliak made his way up the hillside to the temple. He had insisted that he walked there without any soldiers accompanying him this time so that he could be alone with his thoughts.

  Nearly a week had passed since they took the fortress and Draliak often found himself wondering what was happening south of the river. He expected that the Rotian king would soon know of the attacks and that his army would be grouping together to move north. The idea of the Rotian and Shada-Kavielian forces finally meeting in true battle pleased him.

  With Sephonis relinquishing control of the entire invading army to Draliak, the commander had met with the lower-ranked officers and knew them to all be strong and loyal men. When the day came that Shada-Kaviel crushed the Rotian army, he knew that he could count on every single soldier under his command.

  Back in the city, he heard a muffled cheer which echoed from near the docks. Looking over his shoulder, he saw more warships arriving and gauged that the number of soldiers was approaching the ten thousand Sephonis spoke of. His eyes settled on a number of ships that were different to the military vessels moored in Boraila. He never believed that he would see the day when mercenary ships sat alongside his own fleet. He also knew that these ships were the reason Sephonis had summoned him to the temple.

  As he continued up the hillside, Draliak
noticed several men standing outside the temple gates. They wore storm grey cloaks but the commander saw chain mail beneath which had been blackened. Each man had a number of weapons but all were of different designs and no two seemed the same.

  Arriving at the temple, Draliak ignored the malevolent stares from the men as he walked past. At the inner doors stood a number of Shada-Kavielian soldiers who saluted him as he approached.

  “Commander, I am to escort you to the high mage,” announced one soldier.

  Draliak nodded, following him into the temple and through the quiet halls until they came to a closed door. Voices could be heard beyond and the soldier knocked twice. Draliak shook his head and wanted to simply barge into the room rather than wait until called in.

  “Enter,” came Sephonis’ soft voice.

  Draliak moved forward impatiently before the soldier could react and opened the door. Inside, he saw Sephonis and Balthus standing before a blazing fireplace with a third man. He knew who the stranger was already and the commander’s expression certainly did not mask his distaste at having to be in the same room as the man.

  “You sent for me,” stated Draliak, moving into the room and hearing the soldier close the door behind him.

  “Commander, you are aware that our Tyllasi allies arrived in Boraila recently I assume,” Sephonis said. “I thought it best that you met with Vortain.”

  Draliak did not reply and turned his gaze upon the Tyllasi leader. Vortain was taller than both the high mage and the invoker but matched the commander in height. His face was almost hidden by long black hair and a thick beard but eyes the colour of deepest emerald watched Draliak intently. He wore the same storm grey cloak and chain mail as his men outside but two wicked curved blades hung at his side.

  “I have waited a long time to meet the infamous Draliak,” stated Vortain, his deep voice holding an unusual accent.