by Kel Kade
Bilior agreed it would be difficult to build such an army, but he had hope, no, confidence, that the young king could prevail. “Even now, his forest he gathers. His trees be the strongest, his creatures the most vicious. The darkness of the west may be defeated only by one darker still.”
Hvelia dominated the wind and fire when she whooshed. “Bilior, such tempest comes with cost. What, my breath, have you promised?”
He stood tall and held his limbs out proudly. “The price for the we is none. Gave words of knowledge in the human tongue. His price, a haven, safety for his human foundlings.”
“Convergence?” Liti and Itli crackled, the messaged barely formed in flame.
Bilior conceded. “Of the greatest, but not of our possession. A peak, a cyclone, a tide of the Ahn’tep. 'Twas belonging to his kind, yet but a corpse, an unfilled vessel. Caellurum!” he sang.
Their response was not what he had anticipated. Angry groans, fervent flames, harsh wind lashed through his limbs as he was soaked in a salty spray.
“The unfilled vessel be not as vacant as you claim!” Hvelia, Liti, and Itli moaned.
“Promise of safety beyond Nihko’s gate,” Goragana grumbled.
Bilior angrily chattered back at them in a flurry of trembling cracks and gales. “Not a threat unto him. Of the great Blessed he be, to even threaten the we. To breach the walls and take the halls, alert he sounds and calls them down! His army, to him they come.”
Goragana was not convinced. “You gamble with grains for cobbles and draw down boulders. Your pillar may live, but his conglomerates will tumble under the fault. Then where will we be?”
“Bilior spoke on behalf of the Ahn’an,” the wind and flames hissed. “Through us his promise must be paid. Safety, you say? You cannot guarantee! And in Caellurum is likely not to be!”
Uspial burbled. “Your river is tied to ours, a tributary to the whole. You speak in human ripples, an agreement for all. If harm befalls the human minions, the ancients must serve this Ahn’tep master.”
The nature of the other ancients’ distress was not a surprise to Bilior. He had made a bargain on behalf of all the Ahn’an. He had promised the young king safety, a haven for his chosen people. If he and his people failed to reach Caellurum safely, or if the young king did not overcome the perils of the ancient fortress, the Ahn’an would be in his debt. The ancients, themselves, and all Ahn’an would be forced to serve the young Ahn’tep king. Bilior did not believe that would happen. He had stood in the Ahn’tep’s presence, had tested him. He had confidence in the young one’s strength. The others could not see it through their fear. They could not see it because they did not yet know him.
A cacophony of wails and groans suffused Bilior’s being. The others were upset and drawn into a panic. The conversation had surpassed him, and he shuddered in the sudden silence that followed. Hvelia blew forward, and Itli and Liti were swept into her currents. Her shape was filled with swirling flame, and if the circumstances had not been so severe, Bilior would have enjoyed the watching.
“Bilior,” they said in the chorus of their combined speech. “You have made a deal that affects us all. To this Ahn’tep king you must go. Ensure our promise is paid! We cannot serve in his wake should you fail. No single being may wield such power, and you know his kind are prone to madness.”
Bilior was angered by their pessimism and contempt, and Hvelia, especially, he felt had betrayed him. He knew he was the youngest of the ancients, but still ancient was he.
“Your regard for me—a green sapling! I know the cost. Believe you I did not think this through? Without him to lead the army, not the forest or human city, but ALL will be in peril, Ahn’an and Ahn’tep alike! When last the Daem’Ahns spawned, saved were we by the grace of the eihelvanan and by Knights of Nihko, Rheina, Mikayal! But none be nigh! Through him we beg our existence.
“The king was suspicious. Not wanting of a deal, not even answers to whet his appetite. Only one promise desired he, in return for protection of the we. Chosen was I to carry the message. I alone who understand. My connection with life, upon this you depend. Trust in my judgment. ’Twas my promise to spend.”
The slightest breeze rustled his leaves. He felt the burn of Hvelia’s caress as Liti and Itli lapped at him. “My breath, you are right. In you we placed our faith, in your branches we entrusted our fate. But ’tis the greatest price you ask, and only for the making of the deal. Still no guarantee that he is capable, that he may build his army, or that it will suffice. Our decision stands. You must go to him for no more reason than to secure our promise.”
“That’s Serret? The king’s seat of Channería? It doesn’t look like much from here,” Tam said. From what he could see, it was dull and smelled of fish. He wanted to wind through the labyrinth of walls and explore the grand temples that a few of the passengers had described.
“You are seeing a lower district, a working one,” Kai said. “It is not the worst, not even close, but it is nothing to look at either. Most of the city is hidden behind the walls. You cannot see the castle from here. Brilliant design, really. The keep has never been breached.”
“But we won’t see any of it,” Frisha remarked. “We have to stay on the ship.”
“It is not safe for you to go about right now, Lady Frisha,” Kai said. “But surely you will be happy to see your betrothed.”
Frisha glanced at the striker sideways, and Tam was disheartened to see her distaste. “He is not my betrothed,” she said.
Kai looked at her questioningly. “Your unease has not escaped my notice. You have taken issue with Lord Rezkin?”
Frisha held a hand over her eyes to block out the brightening midmorning sunlight as her gaze took in the sprawling port. “Maybe. I don’t know. After what Wesson told me about the spell on Rezkin, I’m not sure how to feel. Part of me wants to keep wanting him. Another part wants to beat him to a pulp for manipulating me.”
Tam scowled at her. “Frisha, you are being completely unfair. You don’t know that Rezkin did anything to you.”
Without turning, she said, “I’m so embarrassed. How I was falling all over myself for him, even getting into fights with Reaylin. And, maybe she was being influenced the same way. You know it’s not like me, Tam. The other girls in Cheswick were throwing themselves at men, but I never fell for them.”
Torn by his divided loyalties, Tam tried to stay true to his longtime friend. He thought she was being overly dramatic, and even that was not like her. Frisha was intelligent and sensible, except when it came to Rezkin. He said, “I think it is like you, Frisha. It’s exactly like you. You have been saving up all your attention for the one man who could steal your heart away in an instant. How many times did you tell me how romantic it was to fall in love at first sight? It was what you wanted all along.”
Frisha flushed and glanced between him and the striker. “I don’t know that it is love, Tam. I feel like I don’t know him at all.”
“You’re angry, Frisha. Anger means you care,” Tam said.
“But how do I care? Am I just hurt by the deception? Am I repulsed, no longer wanting him?”
Tam looked at her doubtfully. She was overthinking things, and now she had his own mind muddled.
“Sometimes I wish I could just start over,” she said.
“Perhaps the testing is in the second first sight,” Kai mused. Tam and Frisha both looked at him questioningly. “You said you fell for him at first sight. You knew nothing about him, nothing of the kind of man he was. Now, you know something more, and you are uncertain. You question your judgment. You are approaching the subject with more sense. When first you see him again, you will know. What do you feel first, and what do you feel most? Love, anger, or rejection?”
Frisha blinked up at the older man. “That—that’s quite good.”
Tam grinned. “You’re a romantic. I didn’t expect that from the hardened striker.”
“Bah!” Kai grumbled. “I have been around far longer than you two. I kno
w something about women, but what it is I could not say.” He laughed at his own jest and then said, “Tell no one, though. I have a reputation to uphold. This stays between you, me, and my wife.”
“You’re married?” said Frisha.
Tam recalled that Kai had said as much when Rezkin had interrogated him not long after they met. It was a fact he had forgotten. He wondered what had happened to the man’s family since he had never heard Kai speak of them again.
“Well, that is a sad story that should not be told on a day like this,” he said, motioning to the clear blue sky.
Seabirds circled the ship and dipped into the placid waters. A soft breeze ruffled Tam’s long hair, and he was reminded once again that he needed to get it cut. He had never liked wearing it long like so many of the other young men he knew who preened and pretended to be more important than they were. At first, he had used a piece of twine to tie it back, but the rough material kept tangling in his hair. Now he was wearing one of the ridiculous ribbons Rezkin kept in his stash. He did not think his friend would mind, and it was only temporary until he could find someone to cut the frustrating locks. Frisha had told him it almost made him look dashing. The compliment was soured by the fact that she had added the almost, but then again, sincere words of that sort from Frisha would be uncomfortable.
Lord Tieran approached the deck rail on the other side of Striker Kai. “Do you think he is already here and ready to board? How long might we wait?”
Kai chuckled. “Are you so eager to be divested of your responsibilities, Lord Tieran?”
“Of course,” Tieran said. “Why should I wish to work so hard at something that someone else can do?”
“I believe it was that attitude that landed you on this ship in the first place,” Kai said.
“What do you mean?” Tieran asked.
Kai said, “Was it not a fateful run-in with Rezkin that prompted him to manipulate your travel arrangements so that he could teach you a lesson?”
“Must we revisit that?” Tieran snapped. “Consider it a lesson learned and let us move on.”
Kai grinned patronizingly. “What lesson was it that you learned, Lord Tieran?”
Tieran lifted his chin and sniffed. “I am more cognizant of the social responsibilities for a man of my station.”
“Is that so?” Kai said, his voice heavy with skepticism.
“What say you, Striker? You think I have not changed? I believe I am more … respectful … of my peers. Before, I did not even see them as peers since they are all beneath me. With Rezkin’s encouragement, I have even accepted Lady Frisha into my cadre of personal friends.”
“A cadre is it? You have so many,” Kai remarked, and Tam was forced to swallow his laughter. It was not so funny when the striker turned his focus on him. “And what of Rezkin and Frisha’s friend, Tamarin, here?”
Lord Tieran’s passing glance slid away so quickly Tam was not sure he had endured it at all.
“What of him?” Tieran said.
Kai gripped Tam’s shoulder and said, “He is a close friend of your close friends, your cousin even. Would you not consider making a friend of him as well? Have you even spoken to him?”
Tieran did not look Tam’s way as he answered. “I am sure we have had an exchange of some sort in the weeks since we have joined parties.”
Tam was unsure. He could not remember having a direct conversation with Lord Tieran, only when they were invested in group discussions to which Tam had been invited. He generally did not feel comfortable joining in unless Rezkin was involved, or sometimes Frisha. He otherwise tried to keep to himself when he was left alone with the nobles outside of training.
Kai grumbled, “You have not changed as much as you think, Lord Tieran. You would shirk your duties at the first opportunity, and the commoners are still too far beneath your notice for even the simplest conversation. You cannot even look at him.”
The motion appeared forced as the noble turned his gaze. Tam did not care for the consideration, and he felt himself withering under the scrutiny. Lord Tieran frowned, and Tam ducked his head, averting his eyes.
“What is wrong with you?” Tieran asked.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t know what you mean,” Tam muttered nervously as he stared at the salty deck planks.
“You look like a beaten dog. Why do you cower so?” Lord Tieran asked.
“Ah, because you are Lord Tieran Nirius,” Tam said.
He glanced up to see Lord Tieran in silent communication with the striker. Kai nodded toward him, and Tam dropped his eyes quickly.
“Master Tamarin … Tam … look at me,” ordered Lord Tieran.
Tam’s eyes shot up, and he held the lord’s gaze. He did not want to, but he dared not look away. No matter the point that Kai was trying to make, and despite Rezkin’s idealistic speeches, he was still a commoner, and Tieran was still a high lord.
“I have seen you openly berate Lord Rezkin,”—he glanced around and lowered his voice—“your king. You converse with Striker Kai and Lord Malcius, practice with Lord Brandt and Lord Waylen, train with the army officers, and you seem to have no issue with spending time in the company of Journeyman Battle Mage Wesson; yet, you cannot look at me.”
Tam chewed on his lower lip. Was that a question? What was he supposed to say? He chose to say nothing.
Lord Tieran huffed and said, “You are the apprentice to the greatest swordmaster any of us has ever seen. Your skills grow each day, and I am fairly certain you could best me in a fight, assuming you employ those underhanded tactics my cousin has been teaching you.”
Tam said nothing again. Lord Tieran seemed to be talking at him more than with him, and he could not find words to bridge the gap. He did note that the lord appeared to enjoy referring to Rezkin as his cousin.
“Well?” Lord Tieran asked. “Could you?”
Tam’s mouth wagged, and he eloquently replied, “Ah …”
Lord Tieran raised a brow impatiently.
Tam finally managed to say, “I suppose anything is possible, my lord.”
He took a moment to direct an angry scowl at the striker. Why had Kai put him in this position? What had he ever done to the man to deserve this? Kai had never liked him, but he had thought the two of them had gotten past their differences. When he looked back, Lord Tieran’s face bore a look of amazement. Tam wondered what he had done and worried over the potential consequences.
To his surprise, Lord Tieran chuckled. “You would challenge the striker but not me? I know you are no coward. We have been in close quarters for long, and I have seen your confidence. I have not treated you unfairly. Why do you cower before me? Tell me now.”
Tam wrung his hands, an anxious habit he had picked up somewhere in their travels that he was trying to break. “Well, my lord, ah, if I managed to score on the striker, he would probably congratulate me for the accomplishment,” he said with a glance at Kai, who nodded with a grin. “Then he would lay me out flat to remind me that I got lucky.” Kai’s bellow of laughter caught the attention of a few deckhands who quickly returned to their work. “But, ah, you know, if a commoner were to seriously injure a lord outside of the tournament, especially a high lord, even in fair and just combat, well, he would be flogged and likely hanged. It’s not so appealing when the reward for winning is death.”
Lord Tieran’s expression was impassive, and he seemed to be waiting for more. Tam swallowed his anxiety and added, “You have never invited me into your company or indicated that I was welcome. If I were to speak out of turn or offend you in some way, you could equally have me flogged. I wouldn’t care to endure such punishment; nor would I desire my friends to witness it.”
“You do not fear punishment from Malcius or Brandt?” Lord Tieran asked.
Tam had been training with Malcius and Brandt for weeks now, and he felt a small sense of comradery with them, so he answered honestly. “I think that it would take some great offense to incur that kind of wrath from either of them.”
/> Tieran scoffed. “So you are saying that I have thin skin?”
Tam’s eyes widened, and he worried that he had overstepped.
Frisha gasped, a feigned expression, Tam knew. He likewise knew that Frisha was fully aware of the potential consequences for upsetting the nobles since they had engaged in more than a few discussions on the subject. “Tieran wouldn’t have you flogged or hanged! You wouldn’t, would you, Tieran?”
Tam was amazed by Frisha’s transition into the nobles’ circle. Where weeks before she had been begging for the slightest acceptance, she was now looking down on the high lord in judgment, and Lord Tieran appeared chastised. Tieran glanced from Frisha to Kai. Tam saw that he was no longer the center of attention and relaxed his shoulders. After another extended, silent exchange between the striker and Lord Tieran, during which Kai appeared to be saying I told you so, the lord’s eyes fell on Tam again.
Lord Tieran inhaled deeply, and his nostrils flared before he spoke. “Tam,” he said with a certain finality. “You will be my friend. You will no longer cower in my presence, and you will speak your mind.” The lord glanced at Frisha and then added, “I will not have you flogged or hanged.” After another deep breath, he said, “You should treat me with the same informal familiarity as you do my cousin.”
Tam was shocked. This was not the result he expected. He had imagined himself scrubbing the decks while his tattered shirt rubbed at the welts on his back. It was considerate of Lord Tieran to add that part about not flogging or hanging him.
“Y-yes, my lord,” he murmured.
Lord Tieran frowned at him. “Is that how you would address Rezkin?”
“Ah, no, my lord.”
“Then do not do so with me,” Lord Tieran turned to the striker and said, “See? I have changed.”
Kai rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, Lord Tieran. Now that you have ordered a young man to be your token commoner friend, I can see my error.”
