The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1)

by Kaeden, Tavish

  When she finally turned to Xasho, she seemed to sway a little, as if the earth had become unsteady beneath her feet.

  "Fezi is?" she said, her voice sounding unusually small and helpless.

  "Prince Kazick Mehlor," said Xasho solemnly. "The man whose late father's armies now occupy both yours and my homelands. The man who, the greedy mudmen claim, is the rightful ruler of all Esmoria."

  "It cannot be," said Jeina. "Why would a prince be living in the ruins of a village in the desolate Hinnjari foothills? When I found this man he had little more than you see on him today. I mean, he doesn't even own proper clothes or a proper weapon. This is no prince! The similarities must just be a coincidence."

  "It is no coincidence," said Xasho. "Beneath those bandages on his chest is a silver ring with odd, primitive runes etched upon it. I saw it with my own eyes when Mehijxa was dressing his wound. It is well known that Kazick always wore just such a ring!"

  "And how would you know?" demanded Jeina. "How is it that a Curahshar such as yourself knows so much about a Marshland Prince?"

  "Nevermind how I know," said Xasho. "The ring is there and I can prove it."

  As Xasho moved towards Fezi, Jeina jumped in front of him.

  "You will do no such thing!" she yelled. "He is too frail."

  "Then you must take my word for it," insisted Xasho. "Either take my word for it, or I will find the ring and show it to you."

  "There is really no need," said a quiet, airy voice behind Jeina. "For I am indeed who he says I am, though I wish it were not so."

  Chapter 48: Jeina

  "Fezi!" Jeina gasped, overwhelmed with relief to see her companion talking. She had the urge to embrace him, but stopped short when she saw how very pale and fragile he still was, and when she remembered that he was not the man she had thought him to be.

  "So it is true?" she asked. "That you are Ka…Kazi…"

  "Kazick," finished the Prince, with a small sigh. "Yes Jeina, it is the truth. But please understand, Kazick is just a name. I am still the man you met in the foothills. A mere name does not change that."

  "But you are a prince," said Jeina, wrestling with the concept. "You…you are not just a normal man. You have subjects, servants, even armies." A horrible realization struck Jeina. "It was your army which invaded my people's lands. Torched our houses, forced us to live in caves. My father and brothers may have died on the blades of your men! For all I know it could have been at your command."

  "No!" wheezed Kazick, who had become visibly agitated by Jeina's words. "I had nothing to do with the Hinnjari campaign, Jeina, I swear it. I never took up arms against any of your own."

  "He speaks the truth," came Xasho's voice from behind Jeina, his words tinged with venom. "Dying on his sword was a privilege he reserved for my people. I give you credit, Prince. It was no small feat to lead an army of armored soldiers as large as yours into the very heart of the desert, where the heat alone often kills the faint of heart. But tell me, Prince of Mud, do you take pride in having conquered a people already crippled by illness?"

  Kazick grimaced. "I take no pride in…" he began before lapsing into a fit of coughs.

  "Wait. Wait." said Jeina. "You are in no condition to be having this conversation. You need more rest, Fez…I mean Kazick. I don't care who you are, but after all we have been through I am not about to let you kill yourself by trying to speak when you should be recovering."

  Kazick said nothing, but the look of gratitude he gave Jeina before closing his eyes made Jeina's heart swell. Whoever this man was, she decided, he had been there for her when no one else had, and now needed her to return that kindness.

  Turning to Xasho, Jeina saw that he was still gazing at Kazick, a hint of anger still smoldering in his oak-brown eyes.

  "Let it go," she said softly. "He suffers enough as it is."

  "To just sit here," replied Xasho, "to just sit here while the man who brought so much shame upon my people, whose soldiers killed so many of my fellow warriors…"

  "I'm sure they killed a few of his too," sighed Jeina. "You men, always fighting - I'll never understand it. Dirt, gold, women, food—and by the time you're done one man is dead and the other is too wounded to enjoy whatever he was fighting for in the first place. Come along now, let us leave Kazick in peace for a spell."

  "Woman, you have no understanding of war," said Xasho indignantly. "My people fight for their honor, to bring justice to those who—"

  "There is no honor or justice in disturbing the wounded and keeping them from their rest," interrupted Jeina. "Now come with me. If he is to get any better, we need to find something besides cherries for Kazick to eat."

  Xasho's eyes widened in astonishment as Jeina clasped his hand and began to drag him out the door. Though he was slow to comply, he did not protest, and Jeina was relieved when they both found themselves in the cool outdoor air.

  They searched in silence for some time, picking over the nearby fields for something other than fallen cherries. Jeina soon realized that she was out of her element, for growing up in the Iron City she had little idea of where foods came from when they were not piled upon the back of a merchant's wagon in the market. Furthermore, she was sure that she had never seen half of the plants that now surrounded her, for unlike the rich, wet soil in which she was now digging, the cold and rocky soil of the Hinnjari North could support only the hardiest of plants.

  "Do you know if this is safe to eat?" she asked Xasho, holding up a thick green grass whose roots faintly resembled an onion. Xasho shrugged his shoulders.

  "Well, have you found anything?" she asked. Again, Xasho merely shrugged.

  "You'd think you could find something," said Jeina, slightly irked by the man's unresponsiveness. "After all, this is your home."

  "This is not my home," said Xasho "The Curahshar lands are vast, woman. I was born as far from here as you were."

  "Oh," said Jeina. "I just thought that maybe since…"

  "And anyway," continued Xasho, "Curahshena men do not spend their days digging in the dirt. We hunt. We slay beasts for their meat. The gathering of lesser foods is left to the women."

  "I see," said Jeina, rolling her eyes. "Well then, hunt! Rekon knows it has been a while since my last proper meal."

  "Hunt with what?" demanded Xasho. "I have no bow, nor arrows."

  "What? Do you mean you can't run down a deer or two with those pretty daggers of yours?" shot back Jeina. "The way you talk, you'd think you could…" she trailed off as she saw Xasho look down at his daggers, as if he had forgotten they were there. She could swear he actually shivered before he grasped each hilt firmly and drew the each blade from his belt. For a moment, his head lolled forward and it seemed he would slump to the ground, but he soon regained his composure and gave Jeina a defiant look.

  "Venison it is," he said, before he took off running into the nearby woods.

  At length, Jeina gathered up the handful of carrots she had unearthed and a bunch of the grass she had decided was definitely some kind of onion and returned to the shed. Before starting a fire she poked her head in to make sure Kazick was sleeping peacefully, only to find his eyes open and staring up at the ceiling. She immediately feared the worst, but was reassured as she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  "Is all well?" she asked softly.

  Kazick gave a small sigh and a whimsical smile flickered across his features. "I don't think there has ever been a man alive who could truly answer 'yes' to that question."

  "I mean…" started Jeina.

  "I know, I know," said Kazick. "I am still weak Jeina, but I think my fever has passed. I must thank you for taking such care of me, though I know I do not deserve it."

  "Of course you do," said Jeina. "Without you I could not have made it this far, and I will not go on without you."

  "Do you forgive me, then," asked Kazick, "for giving you less than the truth about myself?"

  "I do," said Jeina. Then, with a small smile she offered, "To be honest, if
you had told me you were a prince when we first met I would not have believed you."

  "I have always made a poor prince," sighed Kazick. "Always unable to protect those people who relied upon me. Tell me, how is it that you and I are still alive?"

  "Xasho. The Curahshena man you, ah…met earlier. He came out of nowhere and drove off the gröljum."

  "Really?" wondered Kazick. "From his words earlier, I wouldn't have thought he placed much value on my life."

  "He is a difficult man to read," said Jeina. "Something weighs on him terribly, but he will not say what it is. Still, we owe our lives to him, and beneath his grim exterior, I think, lies a kind heart. Confused, but kind."

  "He is no ordinary man, to challenge a gröljum alone," said Kazick. "In my fevered delirium I was often haunted by visions of those fearful creatures. I dreamed of dark, endless tunnels full of the beasts, and of a beautiful black-haired woman with alabaster skin who lived among them, unharmed. She called to me, beckoned me to come to her. She was so beautiful I…I almost wanted to."

  "Laiti," breathed Jeina.

  "What?" asked Kazick.

  "Laiti, the girl I saw bonded to the gröljum," explained Jeina. "You are describing her."

  "How do you know it is the same woman?" asked Kazick.

  "I don't," admitted Jeina. "But I'd be willing to wager it is. The gröljum have a strange effect on the minds of men. Laiti herself felt drawn to them before she had ever even seen one alive."

  Kazick shivered. "Whoever, or whatever she is, I now have a new appreciation for the haste with which we must act. I had thought that my failure to, well, to act like a man in the face of such a beast was just my own cursed susceptibility to tricks of the mind. But you saw how a lone gröljum decimated that entire village. If a host of such creatures were to be let loose upon us…" he left the thought unfinished. "It is good that we are headed to the Marshes, Jeina, for it is time I went home. I know at heart that I have never been the prince my people and my father wanted, but I cannot for selfish reasons leave my people unwarned and unprotected from this new and terrible threat. I sincerely hope that Eathor possesses some knowledge which may thwart Tobin's plans, but he is only one man. We need an army, and to muster one I can afford to be Fezi no longer. When we reach the capital, I must assume my father's throne."

  "Perhaps," said Jeina. From the determined gleam in Kazick's eye, she worried that he would try to rise before his wound had fully closed. "But not just yet, Fez…I mean Kazick. You are still too weak to travel, and it would make little sense to go rushing off at the cost of your—oh!"

  Jeina jumped at the sound of a wet thud behind her. She spun around to see the figure of Xasho, panting heavily and bent over the carcass of a small dear.

  "Where…" he asked, between breaths, "where are you two rushing off to?"

  "We are not rushing anywhere," replied Jeina, taken aback by the sight of the dead beast. "How did you…you didn't really run that down, did you?"

  Xasho just shrugged. "You said you wanted a true meal. Well, here you have it. Enough for you, me, and the Prince of Mud over there to eat for the next few weeks, though for the life of me, I do not know why I bother to feed him."

  "Thank you," said Jeina. "I…I don't know what else to say. First you save us and now…"

  "Just do a good job cooking it," Xasho cut her off. "I am tired, and hungry as a jackal."

  "Cooking?" wondered Jeina aloud. "I…oh, right." She stared at the deer carcass before her. Somewhere inside the furry skin was meat, she knew. But which part to start with, and how to begin to, she winced as she thought of it, to cut open the animal?

  Her dilemma must have been plain upon her face, for she heard Xasho groan.

  "You cannot be serious," he exclaimed. "What kind of woman doesn't know how to skin and butcher her meat?"

  "One who lost her mother to the call of war, and who spent the last of her childhood forced to work as a slave in the silver mines of the north," came Kazick's soft voice.

  "Oh," said Xasho, obviously caught off guard. "I did not know," he sighed and shook his head. "Can you at least build a fire?"

  Hours later, after Xasho and Jeina's efforts had yielded a surprisingly delicious dinner and Kazick had drifted off into a sleep, Jeina and Xasho sat silently by the dwindling fire near the entrance to the shed. Jeina thoughts were filled with princes—Tobin, Eathor, Kazick…how was it that each had become so inextricably enmeshed with her life? And how strange that, of all of them, it was Kazick, an enemy to her people, whom she now knew best.

  The silence had continued for so long that Jeina was startled when she heard Xasho's voice.

  "Is it true?" he asked. "You were a slave?"

  "Not a slave," said Jeina, "a prisoner, sent to a work camp in the mountains."

  Xasho arched an eyebrow. "Your crime?"

  "I stole some coppers from a merchant. Theft during wartime, they said."

  Xasho nodded his head. "A dishonorable thing to do."

  "I had to eat," said Jeina, annoyed that Xasho did not see the injustice of her punishment.

  "Did they feed you at this work camp?" asked Xasho.

  "Yes, but…"

  "Give you shelter?"

  "Yes."

  "Well then," he said, as if that settled the matter.

  "I was there for five years. Five years! For a handful of coppers."

  Xasho was silent for a moment. "That does seem a bit harsh," he admitted.

  "A bit?" demanded Jeina. "It wasn't exactly a pleasant five years either, working alone in the dark, freezing mines all day long. And all just so Tobin could keep the silver flowing to fund his stupid war."

  "As I understand it, he was fighting to restore your people to their homeland," Xasho said. "Surely you cannot fault him for that."

  "He didn't give a damn about us," insisted Jeina. "He wanted his throne back, not for his people, but for himself. Someone had taken something of his, and he had to have it back. I honestly don't think it would matter to him if every last Hinnjari man died reclaiming Tobin's throne, so long as he got what he wanted in the end. We are all expendable, in his eyes."

  "War often forces rulers to make difficult decisions," said Xasho. "It may seem to you that this Tobin is callous when it comes to the lives of his people, but no war was ever won without blood and sacrifice."

  "You have not seen what I have seen," said Jeina grimly. The words "blood" and "sacrifice" once again conjuring up images of Laiti, hanging limp from the cavern wall as Tobin bled her like chum. "I don't pretend to know anything about war. But I know a monster when I see one."

  "Well, you have seen more than most, I will grant you that," said Xasho. "Tell me, do you still plan to continue to the Blood Marsh?"

  "Of course," said Jeina, without a second thought.

  "With Kazick, even though you now know him to be an enemy?"

  "He is not…" Jeina found it hard to explain how she felt about Kazick. "He is not my enemy. Whatever else he is to you, or my people, he has been nothing but a friend to me."

  Jeina watched Xasho consider her words. She had expected him to scold her for betraying her king, or her people, but instead he remained silent for a spell, biting his lower lip as he mulled something over in his mind.

  "He is not," Xasho finally offered, "the man I expected him to be. I thought I would find someone more lively, more ambitious, someone with more fight in him."

  The confusion was clear in Xasho's eyes as he spoke, and suddenly something clicked in Jeina's mind as she considered for the first time how it was that this strange Curahshar had come upon them in the first place, and why he had just happened to be carrying a detailed portrait of Kazick.

  "You…you were looking for him." she said, eyeing the sharp blades in Xasho's belt. "I didn't realize…how could I miss…why exactly are you here? Kazick!" She started to yell, but before she could warn the Prince, Xasho's hand clamped shut over her mouth and his arm wrapped tightly about her waist to keep her from rushing into t
he shed.

  "Quiet!" he hissed. "If I were going to kill him don't you think I would have already done so?"

  Jeina supposed he was right. There had been half a dozen opportunities for Xasho to harm Kazick without anyone being the wiser, and if he truly wanted the Prince dead, well…Jeina herself would not have been much of an obstacle. She relaxed slightly, and Xasho let his hand fall from her mouth and loosened his hold on her waist.

  "What do you want with him?" Jeina asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

  "I don't know," admitted Xasho. "Kazick has much to answer for. It was his army who tore the River Cities from the grasp of my people one by one, and he who marched his forces across the great desert to shame us with defeat in the oldest and most sacred place in the Curahshena sands. His mudmen have made me feel a stranger in my own land and slain men I counted friends, yet when I look at him I can see none of that. When I look at him I feel tired…and lost."

  Jeina felt Xasho's chest rise in a great sigh, and his arm around her waist loosened even further, though he did not quite let go.

  "I believe he is a good man," she said. "And I need him. He has seen the gröljum, he knows my story is true, and has been faithful in his promise to take me to Eathor."

  "I'm afraid your Prince of mud will be more of a liability than an escort in the near future. It would be better for his health, and faster for you, if you continued on alone."

  "And leave him with you?" Jeina scoffed.

  "While he is weak, he has nothing to fear from me," promised Xasho.

  "And that is supposed to reassure me? No. I will wait until Kazick is well enough to travel. Then we shall continue on to the Blood Marsh together."

  "As you know, I cannot vouch that my people will treat you kindly while you are still within our lands. And there are other dangers. Kazick is in no shape to fight. One encounter with bandits, skirmishers, or another gröljum would likely mean your death and his."

  "Not if you come with us," blurted Jeina, before she quite knew what she was saying.