Prince of Bryanae (Bryanae Series)

by Jeffrey Getzin

  “Just a moment,” her father said to his advisors. He rose creaking and shuffled his way over to kneel by his daughter.

  “Baera-Ni,” he said. “You’ve been here for so long. Why don’t you go get some rest?”

  “I’ll rest when you do, Father.”

  Kral-Sus smiled, and tousled his daughter’s hair. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time left.”

  “We’re going to lose?” Even now, the idea scarcely seemed possible.

  He nodded. “I think so. These humans are not especially good warriors, but they are ferocious and numerous. And they travel extremely quickly. We still can’t figure out how they move so quickly.”

  Waeh-Loh’s eyes tracked the black man. He had spotted her, seemed to recognize her. He was weaving his way through the elves in the room in her direction. Once more, her father followed her glance but seemed to see nothing.

  “Why do they hate us so much?” she said.

  “The Kards?”

  She nodded. The black man had almost reached them. Nobody seemed to notice him. Something about his demeanor told her he was harmless, so she was more curious than afraid.

  “We’re not sure. From what we can tell from the ones we’ve captured, they’re an unusual people: a set of three clans or social castes. They have a leader class, a warrior class, and a servant class. At the head of it all is the Warlord, and apparently, he decides the actions of their entire country. Whatever he wants to do, be it right or wrong, they do it as if he were a god.”

  “That makes no sense. He’s just a man like they are.”

  Kral-Sus nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t think they see it that way. They’re a warlike people, Waeh-Loh. The Warlord became the Warlord by killing the previous one. That’s how one gets the job: by inheritance or through combat. In other words, you either have to prove you’re the best warrior in the land, or you have to be the child of someone who is.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, either. The child doesn’t automatically get the gifts of the father.” Waeh-Loh grimaced. “Look at me, for instance.”

  Kral-Sus put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Baera-Ni, there are no words to express how proud I am of you.”

  “But I’m not a leader like you, nor a warrior like you.”

  He laughed. “You’re still a child, dear. You haven’t reached the Second Stage of Childhood yet.”

  “Next week!”

  He laughed again.

  “Yes, next week. I know. My point is that greatness is not something one is born with. We all start with the same amount at birth, and we develop it as we age. Some acquire it quicker than others, be it from natural character or the circumstances around them. But Waeh-Loh …?”

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Remembering Bethus’s Gambit was inspired. I was so proud of you, I felt my heart would burst. You’re not even fifteen and you put all of us to shame. Not one of us could formulate an adequate plan. Not one.”

  “Why not?”

  Kral-Sus sighed. “We’re old and we’re stagnant. It’s been too long since we’ve had to fight for anything. That’s how I think they found our island in the first place: our magic has grown as weak as our army. We just trusted in the strength of the Veil without making sure.”

  Her father seemed to shrink into himself.

  “Baera-Ni, I think I’ve failed. I’ve failed you, and I’ve failed the entire kingdom. I’m so sorry.”

  Waeh-Loh wrapped her arms round his neck. “You are the greatest king who has ever lived, father.”

  When she released him, he dabbed at his eye with a handkerchief.

  “Your Majesty?” someone from the table called. “We need your decision on an important matter.”

  Kral-Sus smiled at Waeh-Loh. “Thank you, Baera-Ni. You’re a good daughter. I’m very proud of you.”

  He walked back to the table, revealing the naked black man who had stood behind him, waiting. The black man looked much like a human—though truth be told, she had never actually seen a human before—but he was awfully tall, and of course, completely black, and shiny.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice gentle. “My name is Tamlevar. Do you mind if I sit down next to you?”

  Waeh-Loh blinked once, glanced down at his dangling penis, and then looked back at his face again. She covered her mouth with her hands and giggled.

  Chapter 71

  The black man—really, he was almost a boy—stared at her, a half-smile on his lips.

  “I can’t believe how young you look,” he said.

  “I’m almost fifteen,” she said indignantly. Then realizing that her father and his advisors couldn’t see this black man—this ‘Tamlevar’—she glanced around the room to see if anybody thought she had gone mad.

  No one had heard her. Very odd.

  “They can’t hear me,” she said. “Why not?”

  “Hm? Oh …” Tamlevar looked about the room, then shrugged. “Would you believe that I know the answer to that, but I’m not sure I have the energy to explain it?”

  Waeh-Loh smiled, and her face colored. “Can you explain how come you’re naked?”

  “Am I?” Tamlevar glanced down and a flash of purple appeared on his cheeks. “It seems that I am! But again, why I’m naked and why they can’t hear you are really two ways of asking the same question.”

  “Terrific,” she said.

  Tamlevar laughed, and his smile was contagious. “Let me see if I can fix that.”

  Tamlevar closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Nothing happened for a few moments, and then the air seemed to shimmer like a heat mirage. At first, Waeh-Loh attributed this to her fatigued eyes. But when she stopped rubbing them she found that Tamlevar was now wearing what looked to be a military uniform.

  There was something about that uniform that seemed both familiar and comforting, as if she had seen something like it in a dream. Certainly, she had never seen its like during her waking hours. So why did looking at it feel like … home?

  “How’s that?” Tamlevar said with a grin. “For my next trick, I’ll turn lead into gold and then pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

  Waeh-Loh hid her giggle behind her hand. She glanced about at her father and his advisors, but they continued to pay her no notice.

  “If you like,” she said. “We can go someplace else to talk.”

  “That would be nice. Where did you have in mind?”

  “The fields. They’re beautiful, and not too far away.”

  “The distance isn’t an issue, Willow,” Tamlevar said. “All I needed—”

  * * *

  “—was a place.”

  Sunlight and warmth flooded the room. Waeh-Loh gasped and covered her eyes. She heard a familiar snuffling sound, and opened them. She gasped.

  Her field! She was there, and Pyto-Etha was digging into the ground a stone’s throw away, his shovel-shaped head displacing earth in a jet of dirt. Tamlevar glanced around.

  “Wow, you’re right. This is beautiful.”

  There was something unusually comforting about his presence. And something … familiar.

  “Do I … know you?”

  There was that infectious grin of his again. “Boy, you really know the tough questions to ask.”

  Waeh-Loh put her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you try answering one of them?”

  He laughed.

  “Very well. You ask me if you know me, and the answer is yes, no, and ‘not yet.’ ”

  “I suppose if I asked you how we got here, you’d say something equally nonsensical.”

  “Probably.”

  “Is there something you can tell me that won’t confuse me?”

  “Yes, Waeh-Loh. I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me how?”

  A storm cloud was starting to roll in off the horizon. Tamlevar gestured at it, and the clouds froze in the sky as if they had merely been painted there.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t,” he s
aid. “Look, I’m here to help you. Some terrible things are about to happen—I’m not exactly sure what. I’m not going to be able to prevent what’s going to happen to you, but I’ll be here to see you through it.”

  Waeh-Loh’s smile vanished and dread filled her heart. Why did she believe this nonsense? This whole thing had a dreamlike quality, as though she would wake up at any moment, safe in her bed, the army of the Kards gone.

  “Can you tell me what’s going to happen, so at least I have a chance to stop it myself?”

  Tamlevar shook his head. “I wish I could, but to be honest, I’m as much in the dark as you are. Perhaps more so.”

  “Then how in the name of the Icy Inferno do you expect to help me?”

  Tamlevar’s smile was rueful now. “By letting you know that you will survive whatever will happen to you. You are stronger than you can possibly know. And you are not alone.”

  He seemed so serious, so confident, that she was afraid despite herself. Who was he, and how did he know so much about her? And what terrible things had he foreseen?

  “I know you believe me,” he said.

  A tear ran down her cheek, and she nodded. Her smile was sad. “I hope you don’t mind if I—”

  * * *

  “—try to stop it,” she said.

  Her father looked up from the midst of his advisors. “Try to stop what?”

  Waeh-Loh looked around, startled. Tamlevar was gone. So were her field, Pyto-Etha, and the storm cloud. Instead, the ordinary surroundings of the Forest Room belied what she had seen.

  She wanted to dismiss it as an hallucination or a dream—perhaps she had nodded off?—but then why did her stomach still feel heavy with dread?

  Chapter 72

  Another boulder crashed against the outer wall of the castle, startling Waeh-Loh from sleep.

  “Father!” she cried, disoriented in the darkness.

  “I’m here,” his voice said, its location indeterminate. “Everything’s all right.”

  “They’re going to win, aren’t they?”

  She heard him take a deep breath, hold it, then exhale.

  “Yes.”

  “I told you we should have surrendered.” The voice was her mother’s, somewhere to her left. “You should have listened to me, Kral-Sus. Now they’ll torture and kill us, and it’s all your fault.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps nothing!” Waeh-Loh could hear Tee-Ri gaining momentum, as she usually did before she tore into him.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Waeh-Loh said, trying to intervene. “What happens next?”

  Silence hung in the darkness. Outside, another boulder crashed against the wall. Inside, it rained dirt and stone fragments. Waeh-Loh clutched her blanket around her. Would this night ever end?

  “Tell her,” Tee-Ri said, the venom all-too-evident in her voice.

  Her father didn’t answer.

  “Tell me what?”

  Still no answer, so Tee-Ri jumped in. “The old fool is going to ride into battle himself.”

  “Father!”

  “Let me explain, Waeh-Loh. It’s not quite that—”

  “Oh yes, he’d rather die in glorious battle than be captured. A fate, I might point out, that he doesn’t intend to spare the two of us.”

  “Oh father, tell me it’s not true.”

  “It is true, Baera-Ni. I’m going to make a diversion. The remainder of the army and the guard will ride out with me at dawn tomorrow. We’re going to try to draw their attention while you and the other women sneak out the servant’s entrance near the kitchens. I’m hoping that in the confusion and alarm caused by our riding forth, you’ll be able to escape to safety.”

  Tee-Ri snorted. “Safety where?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps the woods, or in the hills. There are plenty of caves in those hills.”

  “Caves! You expect the Queen of the Elves to live in caves?”

  Another boulder slammed into the castle wall. Waeh-Loh shuddered as a ripping, groaning sound vibrated through the floor.

  “The North Tower,” she said, her eyes damp. She guessed that meant that there would be no more lessons with Mar-Ra in that tower.

  For a while, no one said anything.

  “It’s all your fault,” Tee-Ri muttered. “Old fool.”

  “No,” protested Waeh-Loh.

  “Yes,” said King Kral-Sus.

  * * *

  Waeh-Loh was certain she’d never be able to fall asleep, so she was surprised when she was awakened by the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

  “Waeh-Loh,” whispered her father. “Wake up. It’s time.”

  Time for what? For a moment, her sleep-addled brain could not make sense of it. Then it came back to her in a rush. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “No. Please, Father.”

  His fingers, strong and calloused from centuries of carpentry and music yet still gentle as an artist’s, clasped hers and gently pried her hands loose. He slipped from her embrace.

  “Please, Waeh-Loh. It must be done. It’s the only solution I can think of. There were just too many of them. We never stood a chance. Even if they hadn’t been faster than us, we still couldn’t have beaten them.”

  Waeh-Loh started to cry, but her father shushed her.

  “I need you to be strong, Baera-Ni. I need you to be as strong as you possibly can. Whether or not we succeed, times will be very difficult in the years to come.”

  Her eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the room. As they did, she heard the sound of boots running up the stairs towards them. Two guardsmen entered.

  “Your Majesty, something terrible has happened!”

  * * *

  In the stables, King Kral-Sus stood still as a statue, his eyes wide. He ran his hands through his hair.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at the carnage. “How could this happen? Who would do such a thing?”

  The buzzing of flies was making Waeh-Loh ill. She waved them away, but they kept returning.

  “It’s monstrous,” King Kral-Sus said. He knelt in the bloody straw beside the body of Perseverance, his white stallion. Perseverance’s throat had been crudely hacked open with a bladed weapon. “Who would murder these poor animals. Who would sabotage the safety of our women and children?”

  The stench of death and corruption filled the stable air with a cloying sweetness. The bodies of the murdered horses were covered with undulating blankets of black flies. Waeh-Loh again fought the urge to retch.

  I need you to be strong, Baera-Ni. I need you to be as strong as you possibly can.

  I’m trying, Father. I’m trying. I’m trying to be strong for you, but it’s so hard.

  Her eyes roamed the stables, her nose inhaled treacherous air.

  “So much for your heroic last ride,” Queen Tee-Ri said.

  “Yes,” said King Kral-Sus. “So much for that.”

  Tee-Ri’s and Waeh-Loh’s eyes met, and Waeh-Loh knew instantly who had murdered the horses and why. Tee-Ri didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Her eyes met her daughter’s straight on. The Queen smiled and nodded slightly.

  “I guess we have no choice,” she said. “We have to surrender.”

  “Yes,” King Kral-Sus said, sounding old and frail. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. We’ll strike the flag and send out an envoy. We have no choice now but to petition for mercy.”

  “I’m sure they’ll grant it,” Waeh-Loh’s mother said. “We are nobility, after all.”

  Chapter 73

  “Your Majesty, the flag has been lowered.” The page knelt before his king, possibly for the last time.

  King Kral-Sus bowed his head, looking small and very tired. His silver hair now looked merely white, as though the totality of his failure had bleached him of the last vestiges of his vitality.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now bring me the broken sword, so I may offer our surrender.”

  “Father, no!” Waeh-Loh said. “You mustn’t go yourself. Let me go
instead.”

  Queen Tee-Ri placed her hand on Waeh-Loh’s head, and Waeh-Loh flinched despite herself. “Waeh-Loh is right: you are far too important. Let her go.”

  King Kral-Sus looked up at that, and a weak smile flitted onto his face. “Even now, I’m not that beaten. I have failed my people, yes,” he said, “but I will not compound my failure by failing my family, too.”

  “Father, I want to. Please let me.”

  “No, Baera-Ni. I must surrender my past and present, but you are my future. All of our futures. Perhaps someday, you will redeem our loss.”

  “Master Mal?” Queen Tee-Ri offered.

  “Dead.”

  “Dran-Sus?”

  “Dead.”

  “What about Mar-Ra, then? Surely, she is still alive?”

  The King regarded his queen as though for the first time. “You know, sometimes I do not understand you at all.”

  Queen Tee-Ri tossed her hair. “No, and you never did.”

  “Father, let—”

  “Enough. No, Baera-Ni.” He called to the gate-keepers: “Open the gates.”

  The anguished groan of the metal gates as they separated at the end of the main hall made Waeh-Loh’s teeth rattle. The sound struck her in her heart and she grimaced.

  “No, Father,” she whispered, but he did not hear her. He was striding towards the gateway. “No.”

  “Remove your weapons,” King Kral-Sus said to the handful of soldiers that remained, “and place them on the ground before you. Display your palms to your conquerors and they will respect your surrender.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” they said as one. Their voices were thick with emotion, but their eyes shone in devotion.

  The page approached the King and offered him the ceremonial broken sword; the token of defeat that had been kept for millennia, but until this moment, had never been used. King Kral-Sus sighed and took it in his hand.

  Already, Waeh-Loh could hear the hooting and grunting of the Kard troops outside the gate, their eagerness growing as victory neared. Strange-sounding horns blew outside, and drums were beaten and Waeh-Loh suddenly knew that the surrender would not be accepted. But her father had already committed himself, and should they try to close the gates now, many Kards would be able to squeeze in before they could be sealed again: sufficient numbers to easily overrun the few elven soldiers within the castle.