The Sleeping God (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 4)

by Guy Antibes

  Actually, Pol thought, such things did seem to blossom around him. “At least we are far enough from Fassin that I can wear my magician’s hat. It’s a lot better than the dripping hood of my cloak.”

  “And to complete the costume, you can pull out that colorful oilcloth slicker,” Paki said. “You’ll look like a proper magician.”

  “Maybe I’ll wear my actual face,” Pol said, looking around. A number of those around him were Terilanders with the same light hair color.

  “I like your actual face,” Shira said. This time she gave him an aggressive squeeze.

  “Then I will arrive in Sakima with a pointed head.” They laughed, and Pol’s encroaching depression melted away.

  Kell and Loa followed right after.

  “Fadden is out selling one of our packhorses and extra gear,” Kell said. “We still need one for all our purchases.” Kell looked at Loa with a smile on his face. “He said we could use Teriland money more than carrying around stuff we won’t be using until we head to Ducharl.”

  “Ducharl,” Pol said. “I’m looking forward to Teriland and finding something, but I think I’m ready to head back to the Empire.” He leaned over and whispered into Shira’s ear. “Except returning means losing you.”

  Shira looked back at him. Tears welled in her eyes. “Then let’s enjoy our time together.”

  “I have been, even through all the bruising.”

  She gave him another pinch.

  “What’s with the whispering?” Paki said.

  “Boy-girl stuff,” Kell said, putting his arm around Loa.

  Paki folded his arms, “I’d like a little boy-girl action, but I’m unlucky at love.”

  “I don’t think its love you’re looking for, Paki. Something slightly different,” Kell said. He put his arm around Paki’s head and messed up his hair.

  Pol smiled. Ever since Bastiz, he had worried about Paki being without a companion, and Fadden made a poor substitute for girlfriend, but now that they were at the tail end of their trip, it looked like he’d make it.

  Pol felt the cold air of the open door, as he often had in the common room. This time Fadden pulled off a black oilskin coat and shook it. His eyebrows rose when he made eye contact with Pol, and he rushed over.

  “There is talk of a clash between the King’s men and your Goons at the pass tomorrow. The rumor is the Goons want to cut off Teriland to treasure hunters. That sure confirms the pattern that says the Goons think that the cave is in Teriland.”

  “Then why don’t we leave now?” Pol said. “Who would be checking travelers in the middle of the night?”

  Fadden grinned. “Why not? Let’s get a good meal in us first.”

  Pol wore his pointed hat and the Shardian swordsman-magician cloak, but kept Nater Grainell’s face and hair color as they proceeded up the road. They weren’t the only travelers in the pouring rain.

  Pol took the lead, forcing the others to keep up. Sometime before midnight, torches lit up the road ahead.

  “Be prepared to fight our way through,” Pol said.

  When they arrived, it was more like keeping away from the fight as the Goon’s and the King’s soldiers were yelling at each other in the darkness. Pol noticed one Goon magician who was particularly vocal. Pol took off his hat and followed other riders around the edge of the confrontation, seeking to get past the magician.

  He reached out and put the magician to sleep. He slumped over his saddle and fell to the ground. The soldiers stared at the fallen Goon once they noticed his taunts had stopped.

  “We can stay and help the soldiers,” Paki said.

  “Go ahead. The real fight hasn’t started yet,” Fadden said.

  Paki turned around in his saddle, looking at the shouting still going on and shook his head. “I guess that’s not my fight now that I’m on the Teriland side of the pass.”

  “No, we’re not,” Pol said.

  A line of soldiers stood in the middle of the road, still interviewing departees from Gekelmar.

  “What is your business? Quickly!” a soldier said. “We have to close the border to assist our fellow soldiers in a few minutes.”

  “I seek my relatives in Teriland. My father grew up there.”

  The guard pointed to Shira. “She looks more like a Terilander than you do.”

  “A moment,” Pol said. His features contorted, while Pol endured the pain. “Is that better?”

  The soldier took a step back. “You’re not one of those damned priests are you?”

  Pol raised his hands. “Not at all. Please let us pass.”

  “Get out of here,” the soldier said, waving them past.

  “And I wish you well,” Pol said, as the soldiers parted enough for them to slip through and over the border signified by a brick pavement laid perpendicular to the road. Pol smiled as his horse stepped over into the land of his father.

  No one manned the Terilan guard station. The road’s pavement wasn’t as well-maintained as on the Gekelmar side.

  They used magician lights to illuminate the way down the pass. Somewhere in the darkness Sakima and a warm bed waited.

  Fadden pointed out an inn open in the night just before they reached Sakima. Lamps lit the way towards the inn, and Pol was grateful he had found his warm bed as he fell asleep.

  ~

  A shard of weak sunlight brightened up the room he shared with Paki, Kell, and Fadden. Kell was already up. Pol rose and rubbed cold water on his face and straightened out his clothes.

  “It’s time to get going, Paki,” Fadden said, yawning. “Though I didn’t sleep long, I slept well.”

  Pol nodded. “I’m a bit anxious to get to Sakima so we can start doing some Seeking.”

  “No reason to wait. You can ask away starting here.”

  They dragged Paki downstairs, ate a quick breakfast, and took care of their own horses. Fadden dragged Pol back into the inn to settle up.

  “Seek,” he said in Pol’s ear.

  “How much for the six of us?”

  Pol paid for their bed and breakfast.

  “You didn’t get much sleep with all the commotion up at the pass. No one has come down yet this morning.”

  “I’m looking for my father’s family,” Pol said. “His name was Cissert.”

  “Not too common a name for a Terilander, but I’ve known a few Cisserts in my time.” The innkeeper put a hand to his chin and looked at the ceiling as he thought. “I’d check with a lass who has a stall just before you enter Sakima. She’s made it her business to know just about everyone in town, even though she’s a young thing, not much older than you.”

  Pol thanked the innkeeper. Fadden and Pol walked back to the stable yard, where everyone was mounted. Pol felt a drop on his forehead and looked up at the sky.

  “The rain hasn’t left us yet,” he said, as he pulled out his colorful cloak and jammed his trusty conical hat on his head. “We need to look for a young woman who sells items by the side of the road.”

  “I’d be happy to do that,” Paki said. “I’m an expert at looking for young women.”

  Kell snorted. “You mean looking at young women.”

  They were laughing as they turned west on the road heading towards Sakima. As the steepness of the Penchappies began to flatten, they could see farms nestled in a few valleys. The rain occluded their vision, so they couldn’t see the outskirts of Sakima that should be lower in the distance.

  Three roadside stalls appeared at the side of the road next to a stretch of woods. Pol looked for the young woman that the innkeeper had pointed out. He dismounted, taking his hat off underneath the awning that protected an old woman’s merchandise from the rain.

  “I was told a girl sold items at one of these stalls,” Pol said. “She is supposed to know a lot of people in Sakima.”

  “You mean Mora. She should be here any minute.”

  Pol wondered if he was on fool’s errand. His mind went back to the priests at the cathedral.

  “Perhaps…”
>
  “No, no. She runs the stall so she can check out travelers. She’s looking for her father to return from his travels.”

  Pol didn’t need anything from the stalls, but Loa was already down from her horse looking at the Terilander trinkets with Shira.

  “Look, Demron amulets.” Shira picked one up and turned it over. Even that one had nothing on the back.

  “You should see Mora’s. It’s much more beautiful than these.”

  “Do Terilanders follow the Sleeping God?” Pol asked.

  “We don’t think that Demron is a god, but the name of a race of ancestors,” the light-haired woman said. “That symbol isn’t religious here. We think it merely identified them, like a lord’s coat of arms.” She looked at Shira. “You are a Shinkyan?”

  Shira blinked in surprise. “You know of us?”

  The woman laughed. “Of course we do. We are taught that your people left Teriland once all the Demrons died out.”

  “They died out first, and then we left?” Shira asked. “We don’t really know.”

  The old woman giggled with her hand covering her face. “Neither do we, really. Further west they tell it a different way.”

  A young lady walked up the road with her cloak held tightly to her neck. She looked up and saw Pol. Her face brightened as she ran towards him.

  “Father!”

  Pol took a step back. “I’m not your father!” he said as she hugged him.

  She shook her head and disengaged. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting all these years.”

  “What is your father’s name?” Pol fought off the intense embarrassment of being mistaken by the young woman.

  “Cissert Torin,” she said. “I barely remember him, but he looked just like you.”

  The revelation shook Pol. How could this be? “My father’s name was Cissert, but I never knew his last name.”

  “How old would he be now?” Shira said, interjecting some reality into an unreal situation.

  “Middle thirties. He left Sakima when he was eighteen. I was only two.”

  “Where did he go that you’d wait for him so long?”

  “He went to Eastril to visit distant relations. I was told he left to meet a princess whose family left Teriland two generations ago.”

  “In Listya?” Pol said.

  Her eyes lit up. “Do you know him?”

  Pol had to control his emotions. He never knew he had a sister, and finding a relative so soon hit him hard. “He was my father, too,” Pol said, his eyes welling with tears. “Your father…our father, died before I was born. He didn’t marry my mother, Molissa, princess of Listya, but they did produce me.”

  “That was her name, Molissa. I still have the single letter that he sent my mother. He mentioned her. He followed them to Borstyle?”

  “Borstall, the capital of North Salvan. She died there, too.” He pictured his mother’s monument and with it the pyre that consumed his stepfather.

  “What a coincidence!” Paki said.

  The girl laughed through her tears. “No coincidence. I’ve been checking out most travelers for the last four years. I’ve seen most of Sakima come and go past my stall.” She looked up the empty road. “Why are you out so early?”

  “The Defenders of Demron must have successfully closed the pass. I don’t know how many travelers will be coming through today. We were able to manage to get by last night and stayed up the road at the inn.”

  “Oh, they would have been thrilled to have nighttime patrons. Most of their customers are those who don’t like the rain or snow.” She grinned with delight. “What is your name? Mine is Mora.”

  “Pol. Pol Cissert. I took our father’s name and use it as my last.”

  She nodded, still beaming. “I like it. It looks like I don’t need to mind my stall today, so come with me. I have a house big enough for all of you to stay. It’s not far from here.”

  Fadden had dismounted and joined them. “We don’t want to displace your family.”

  Mora shook her head. “Not at all. I live by myself. It may not look like it, but I make a lot of money at my stall, and I saved it to build a nice big house. I had hoped to share it with my father, but now you can spend a little time in it.” Her grin faded a bit. “Now that I know he won’t be coming back.” Her smile turned into a sigh.

  She led them about half a mile up the road and took a track into the woods until the little road widened to show a two-story stone house. A thin trail of smoke wound up through a chimney and then spread out into the mist.

  “I don’t have much of a stable,” Mora said. “But I have enough space inside for all of you.”

  “Aren’t you afraid we might rob you?” Fadden said.

  “No, not at all. Pol looks just like what I remember of Father, and you are all his friends, right?”

  Fadden nodded. “We are.”

  Pol was glad that Namion wasn’t with them. They lined up their bags on Mora’s wide porch and took off muddy boots before entering.

  The furniture was simply made, and rugs were spread around the polished wooden floor. Everything looked new.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since the summer,” Mora said. “My mother died a year ago, so I took what we had saved and built this. It’s close to my stall, and I’ve learned to live a solitary life.” She laughed. “Actually, it’s not solitary at all. I meet lots of people every day!”

  There were just enough seats for them all in her main room. Pol took off his amulet. “He gave me this. Maybe you should have it.”

  “Just more proof that we are related.” Mora pulled a necklace over her thick white hair and presented it to Pol. “It should have two sides. All of the other Demron symbols only have shaping on one side.”

  Pol gave them both to Shira.

  “These are alike,” Shira said. “Your father gave you this?”

  Mora nodded. “He did. In his letter he told my mother that he had the other. He said these are the only two genuine keys in existence.”

  “Keys?” Pol said.

  “They both will open the Source, but only by a direct descendant. Father never even tried. That is why he had to leave for Listya and sire you.”

  “Will they open the Sleeping God’s chamber in Fassin?”

  Mora shrugged. “I don’t know. That doesn’t mean one of them won’t.”

  Fadden perked up. “The Source, what is that?”

  “A chamber built into a mountainside. That was what my father called it, but my mother admitted he made it up. He could never get inside. It supposedly contains the secret of the Demrons.”

  Pol’s heart sped up. “Do you know where that is?”

  She grinned. “Of course. I’ve been there twice.”

  “The treasure cave,” Kell said.

  Mora looked confused, but then her eyebrows went up. “The treasure cave?”

  Pol nodded. “Most likely. I never thought there would be an actual treasure cave, but maybe it’s a Demron library of some kind.”

  “Who are the Demrons, again?” Paki said.

  “The aliens.” Shira hit Paki in the head. “The truth regarding my people will be there, as well.”

  Pol returned to his chair with the amulet back around his neck. “This has all come too quickly.” He had another living sister, but Mora was special. She shared his blood, where Amonna and Honna never did.

  “Not quickly enough for me,” Mora said. “I’ve been looking for my father for a long time, and in a sense, he’s here.”

  “Where can we celebrate this reunion?” Paki said rubbing his hands.

  “There is a large inn just as you reach Sakima. We can get something delicious there,” Mora said. She gave Pol a warm look. “I’ll get ready.” She climbed the stairs and closed one of the doors.

  “There you go, Paki. She’s even Pol’s sister,” Kell said.

  Paki frowned. “I’m sure she’s nice and everything, but Mora isn’t my type.”

  “Who
is?”

  Paki glanced at Loa, but then shook his head. “I don’t know, but it isn’t Mora, and it isn’t Shira or Loa. I want a nice comfortable barmaid from the Empire, I guess.”

  “An easy woman,” Kell said. He pointed his finger at Paki. “Don’t deny it.”

  “What’s wrong with easy women?” Paki grinned.

  “They are easy,” Shira said.

  ~

  Pol wore his magician’s outfit into Sakima as the clouds lowered yet again. The inn was nice and a cut above most that they had stayed in on their way from Fassin to Teriland.

  “My father was a magician, wasn’t he?” Mora said just after they were served a freshly-killed goose for a late lunch.

  “So am I,” Pol said.

  “Oh, no!” Mora’s said. Tears welled in her eyes again.

  “You are thinking about the curse?” Pol said.

  “Yes, yes, I am. It caught our father.”

  “But it won’t catch me. I had an Imperial healer, likely the best one on Phairoon, rebuild my heart. I grew up weak and sickly.” Pol turned to Paki. “Right?”

  Paki nodded. “Pol tried harder than everyone else to get stronger, yet his body never really responded until he met Searl.”

  “The healer?” Mora said.

  “Yes. He was a minweed addict, and I suppose you can say we helped each other get better.”

  “So you won’t die in a few years?”

  “Not from a bad heart,” Pol said. His comment got another pinch from Shira. Perhaps he might try sitting across the table from her at their next meal.

  “Everyone thinks that magic has been bred out of Teriland, but it hasn’t.” She smiled as if she had a secret. “Magicians try to keep their power a secret. There are so few.”

  “Do you think you have some power?”

  Mora looked around the table and nodded shyly.

  Fadden put his hand over hers. “I can test you when we get back.”

  “Would you?” she said.

  He nodded.

  “There are a few other women in Sakima who have some talent, but they keep quiet about it because of the curse.”

  “You keep calling it a curse, Mora,” Shira said. “It’s not a curse, but a condition. It’s what your ancestors gave us. It’s the same in Shinkya, but instead of eradicating magic, women are the strong ones, and talented men use their magic as long as they can. We also have plenty of male magicians of lesser power who live as long as Shinkyan females.”