by Phil Stern
“I said not now! There is too much else at stake.” Suddenly animated, he leapt to his feet, angrily pacing the room. “The Kardens have already struck once, and may do so again at any moment! I must dispatch our army, including those new recruits, to the western frontier immediately. I can’t afford a witch-hunt among our best young warriors!”
Waiting a few moments, Perno slowly nodded. “I see.”
“Not to mention my detractors right here in the castle,” the King bitterly continued. “To turn you loose on the army would be just the opening they need to convince everyone I’m losing control!”
And this, thought Perno, is the King’s weakness. Rather than immediate action, he often surrendered the initiative to his opponents. “What are your wishes concerning this Unknown?” he asked.
“Rather bold of him to walk right into my own castle, now isn’t it?” Stroking his chin, the King considered. “And this boy is too old to become part of your own organization?”
Perno had considered it. But eighteen was way too late to begin effective indoctrination. If they’d discovered him a decade before...but not now. “I’m afraid so, my liege.”
“That’s too bad. Clearly, he’s more skilled than your own people.” Giving his spymaster a hard stare, the King nodded decisively. “Which means, of course, this Unknown is a threat. Have an agent accompany the recruits on campaign. There will be plenty of opportunity to identify and dispatch this young man in a war zone, now won’t there?”
“As you wish, my liege.” The head Demon began to leave.
“And Perno?”
Pausing, he turned back. “Yes, my Lord?”
“Why don’t you leave here unannounced. Many people saw you enter. It helps if we keep them guessing.”
Perno hesitated only a split second. The King, of course, was the only person in the entire Kingdom who dared openly mention his special talent. “Of course, my liege.”
A moment later Perno drifted into invisibility, his personal aura separating and speeding the molecules of both body and clothes, allowing light and other matter to pass through. Striding directly through the outer wall, the Demon passed by the two sentries once more, though they were utterly unaware of his presence.
***
That evening, after a quiet dinner with her mother, Lydia spent time sketching in her room. She was very skilled, her ability to animate colors and hues creating a unique form of living, breathing art.
Three cats curled up on her bed, shelf, and lap, contentedly purring. The oldest of her pride, a black and white named Heathrow, remarked that he especially liked the gold sparkles coming from the young man’s head. Thanking him, Lydia continued with her work.
After a time her mother came in, quietly watching from the back of the room. Finally walking up to her only child, Princess Aprina leaned down to inspect the work in detail.
“Lydia, dear, this is beautiful.” Carefully picking up the sketch, Aprina studied the image of a young, strong man in military uniform, staring out at the horizon. Behind the man was a girl, watching from behind a tree. Clearly the girl was fascinated by the soldier, though he didn’t know she was there. Within the picture itself the trees and grass glowed a verdant green, the sky a vibrant blue.
“Thank you.” Absently taking the picture back, Lydia studied it another moment, touching up some detail on the boy’s sleeve.
“Why are there gold stars coming out of his head?” Sitting down on the bed, Aprina stroked the young tabby cat.
Lydia shrugged. “Heathrow likes it.”
“Heathrow’s a cat, dear.”
“So?” Turning to look at her mother, Lydia smiled. “He has opinions too, you know.”
At one time Lydia’s amazing ability to communicate with animals was a cause of concern. Might she someday decide animals were better company than people, retreating into a sheltered, inner world? But so far Aprina’s fears had been groundless. In fact, Lydia was very popular and well adjusted, clearly understanding the difference between beast and human society.
Still, there were times when Aprina wished her daughter possessed a singular, mundane talent, like that of her friend Belle. Very few royals had two abilities, marking her as both very sensitive and unusually powerful. Such things didn’t go unnoticed in royal society.
Glancing once more at the drawing, Aprina again wondered at the significance of the gold flakes around the boy’s head, creating almost an aura. Instantly, she thought of the King’s minions prowling the castle, living among them in supposed secrecy.
“Lydia...” Voice trailing off, Aprina leaned over to stroke her daughter’s cheek. “Do you ever sense anything unusual in the staff around the castle here? Perhaps soldiers or cooks?”
“You mean power? Like we have?”
“That’s right, dear.” Surprised at such a direct response, Aprina nodded. “People trying to hide what they are.”
“Of course.” Lydia looked down into her lap. “They don’t want anybody to know, but I can always sense them.”
“I see.” Taking a deep breath, Aprina sat back. “Honey, those people aren’t our friends.”
“I know.”
“Oh. Good.” Trying her best to smile, Aprina nodded at the sketch again. “Have any of them followed you, or questioned you? Maybe that boy in the soldier’s uniform you’ve drawn there?”
“No.” Lydia now looked at her mother directly. “Don’t worry, Mom. I can spot them all a mile away. I won’t talk to them.”
“Oh.” This was no false modesty, Aprina saw. Spotting Demons was child’s play to her daughter. “And the boy there, is he one of the King’s spies?”
“No, Mom. Not at all.” Now Lydia smiled, hugging Heathrow to her chest. “He’s just a drawing. Nobody in particular.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Aprina still felt there was more to the sketch than Lydia cared to admit, but there seemed little point in pressing.
Apologizing to Heathrow, Lydia put the cat carefully on the floor, turning fully to face her mother. “Mom, do I have to marry a royal cousin?”
Surprised by such a question from her normally level-headed daughter, Aprina answered carefully. “Well dear, when the time is right, and you find someone you like. Why are you asking me this now?”
“Well, I was wondering if I could marry anybody I choose? Maybe even someone from the villages?”
“You mean a commoner?”
“Maybe.” Solemnly, Lydia nodded. “Something like that.”
“Well, Lydia, if you didn’t marry one of your royal cousins, there would be far less chance of your children ever having any power. They’d be dull, like the commoners. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
The girl shrugged. “I guess not.”
“Oh, my dear, when the time is right, you’re going to have a wonderful marriage! And lots of powerful children.” Smiling once more, Aprina stood. “But not for a few years, at least.”
“All right, Mother.” Lydia stared down at her own drawing. “Good night.”
“Good night, dear.” Giving Lydia a kiss on the head, Aprina left.
Lydia intently studied her own drawing a while longer, the gold aura surrounding Anson’s head pulsing strongly.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SUMMER ANSON TURNED fourteen years old, he finally asked the question his mother had been dreading. Arriving home from school one day, the strong, blond boy dropped heavily into a chair by the kitchen table.
“Hey there, kiddo.” Shucking corn for supper, she turned to her son with a smile. “How was your day?”
“Fine.” Staring down at the table, he moodily traced a finger along an old groove.
A moment went by. “Anything the matter?” she asked, picking up another corn.
Sighing, Anson didn’t look up. “Werner and I got into a fight today.”
“What?” Turning about in alarm, she advanced a few steps. “But Anson, you didn’t...”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I didn’t do...that. Nobody saw anyth
ing.”
“Good. That’s very good.” Sinking down opposite her child, she tried to relax. “But you know, it’s just those kind of things, a fight or something, that can lead to trouble.”
“I know, Mom.” A moment of stress leading to a revelation of power. He’d been lectured for years on the subject. “Nothing happened.”
“Good.” Still, her heart was beating very quickly. “Were you hurt?”
“No, it was no big deal.”
“Well, I thought you and Werner were friends. What started it?”
“We all went out to the cemetery. The whole class. To clean up and all.” Anson shrugged. “Werner and I found Dad’s grave, and then he asked me why the dates didn’t match up.”
“What do you mean, dear?” Once more, her heart began racing.
“Well, it says on the headstone Dad died over a year before I was born,” the sullen boy continued. “So Werner starts making fun of me, saying my Dad wasn’t really my Dad. So I punched him.”
“Oh.” Gingerly, she reached out, taking his hand in hers. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Is it true?” Smoldering anger now bursting forth, Anson pulled his hand away. “Is Dad not my real father?”
Glancing up, she looked at the faded picture of Hanley next to the door. Dying of disease the third winter of their marriage, she’d always told Anson her late husband had been his father. It had been a convenient lie, repeated often over the years, and if anyone in town had ever done the math and come to the obvious conclusion, she’d never heard about it.
Until now, that is.
“Anson...” Pausing, she gingerly touched the bruise now forming over his left eye. “It is true. Hanley, your Dad...well, I mean, he isn’t your father. I’ve been lying to you about that.”
“Why?” Holding very still, he glared at her from across the wooden table. “Then who is my father?”
“Oh, Anson.” Gathering herself, she slowly continued. “Your power, Anson. It comes from the royal family.”
“What?” Frowning, he irritably shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“Anson, your father...your biological father, that is, was a royal. A Lord.”
“A Lord?”
“That’s right.” Smiling encouragingly, she held her son’s eye. “Anson, haven’t you ever wondered where that came from? What you can do?”
A long silence ensued, the grim-faced boy now staring off into space.
It had been the spring after Hanley’s death. She’d gone on a rare sojourn into the capital city, to both clear her head and consider a new marriage proposal from another townsman. He was very nice, but she wasn’t sure. The royal prince had seen her, immediately taking an interest. And she’d been so lonely and afraid.
It had lasted only a week, the prince soon becoming bored and sending her back to Hylen. Shortly thereafter, she realized she was pregnant. Realizing the potential complications of marrying a commoner, yet possibly bearing an empowered child, she’d turned down the marriage proposal.
From that day on, Anson’s happiness and well being had been her sole passion in this world.
“So I guess you never really wanted me then,” he finally muttered.
“No, Anson, that’s not true!” Rushing around the table, she took the glum youth into her arms. “You must never believe that! I’ve always wanted you!”
“But I’m so much trouble,” he dourly continued. “And you get angry with me because we have to hide what I can do all the time.”
“No, I never get angry.” Taking a step back, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve always wanted you! You’re good, and special, just like the Lords! Just like all those people who live in the castle, taking on airs and parading around in fancy clothes! It’s just...just that no one can ever know about what you can do, except you and me.”
“So you do love me then?” Now the boy stared off into space. “Even if I’m not Dad’s and...and the way I’ve turned out?”
“Oh, Anson!” Now she almost crushed him, much like when he was a younger child. “More than you can ever know!”
Now crying himself, Anson sobbed into his mother’s shoulder.
***
The morning after Lydia first saw Anson in the Throne Hall, she watched the King’s army break camp and troop off toward their confrontation with the Kardens. Distracted and fretful the rest of the day, she embarked on a solitary stroll that evening through the woods a mile from the castle.
Normally a teenage princess would never dare wander off by herself, yet Lydia was far from alone. A huge, tawny panther treaded by her side, sniffing the air for any hint of danger, her two cubs tripping along behind. A nearby herd of wild horses remained in light mental contact, while a single hawk circled attentively above, watching for anything the panther might miss.
In fact, all the animals in the area knew the young royal well, and on occasion had even called on her for assistance. Once she’d saved a baby hawk that had fallen from its nest, and had even helped the mother panther when she herself had been a cub. Liking and trusting her, the animals universally welcomed Lydia’s presence in their midst, never allowing any harm to befall her.
Still, it wasn’t the animal world that drew her thoughts this night. Picturing Anson’s tall, strong form, she imagined him marching off to battle with the others, totally alone with his secret. She wished to help him in some way, but didn’t know how.
Padding along behind her, one of the cubs stepped on a thorn. Yelping in sudden pain, he sat back on his haunches, holding his paw up, the offending twig sticking out. Cooing reassurance, Lydia bent down and gently worked the thorn free, the cub licking her cheek in thanks.
Looking up, Lydia saw Prince Tenen step into view in the middle of the path behind them, just watching, a haughty grin plastered over his gaunt, ugly face. Letting out a sigh, she rose to face him.
She’d known he’d been following her, of course, having received Tenen’s mental image from the circling hawk some twenty minutes before. The horses had already been called off, Lydia not wishing their pretty coats singed by the arrogant prince. Nodding a dismissal, she then watched her three cats slink off into the underbrush, momma panther growling in disdain.
Every once in a while one of the Demons would follow her out, just to see what she was up to. This was the first time, however, Lydia could remember one of her royal cousins showing an interest in her solitary wandering. While not feeling in any danger, it was definitely unusual.
“Lydia,” Tenen began, walking forward a few steps. “It’s a beautiful evening.”
“Indeed it is.”
Strolling closer, he gently touched a branch reaching over the path. “I was wondering if you would consider an offer of marriage.”
Gasping, she held a hand to her throat. Marriage to Tenen? She felt nothing but revulsion. In alarm the mother panther, hiding in the nearby bushes, started forward, but Lydia again warned her away.
“That is an interesting proposal, my Lord,” she smoothly replied. “To what do I owe such an honor?”
Shrugging, he advanced even farther, stopping about ten paces away. They now faced each other directly in the evening twilight, the woods unusually quiet.
“Would we not make a good match?” he asked. “You are a very powerful royal, as am I. The King would doubtless approve. Who knows?” Smiling again, he almost laughed. “I may well succeed our current monarch. You could be the next Queen.”
Groaning, she looked up at the canopy of trees covering the woods, the evening sky softly glowing up above. “Tenen, you’re only twenty. Too young to take a wife, and way too young to become King.”
“But if we became betrothed...”
“And who says I wish to get married at all?” she demanded. “This is absurd!”
“Lydia, we both know you will have to marry one of your royal cousins in order to produce empowered children.”
“I would bet my children would have power no matter who I married!” Once more, ima
ges of Anson came before her mind’s eye.
“Please, Lydia. We both know that’s not the way it works.”
At least officially, she silently countered, thinking of Belle’s musings on the genesis of empowered commoners. “Look, Tenen, when the time is right, my mother and I will discuss what’s best for my future. Until then...”
“Ah, yes. The good Princess Aprina,” he rudely interjected. “Lydia, your mother’s welfare would be the best reason of all to become betrothed.”
Pausing, Lydia strained to read his expression in the fading light. “I don’t understand.”
“Your mother has a...a past, shall we say, you may not even be aware of,” Tenen explained. “She now possesses powerful enemies, people very close to our King. What better way to protect her than your own engagement to one of His Majesty’s favorites?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she seethed. “Get away from me!”
“Fine.” Initially turning away, he now rotated back. “But remember, the time will come when you’ll need friends in high places.”
“Like you? I think not.” Breathing heavily, she tried to keep her composure. “Isn’t your place with the army that left this morning?”
“I’ll catch up on one of the Stallions. I’ll be with the army well before it reaches the Outlands.”
The Stallions were a breed of large superhorses that could run at great speeds all day long. Only the royal family could ride them, but Lydia knew the Stallions all detested Tenen. “Well, do be careful, my Lord! Goodbye!”
Lydia’s mock courtesy wasn’t lost on him. “As should you, my Lady. Can I escort you home? It’s getting dark.”
Picking up a stick, she caused it to glow brightly, casting a beam of light to guide her. “I think I can manage.”
“Of course.” Bowing low, he turned and strode down the path away from her. “Think on what I said,” he called out over his shoulder. In a moment Tenen was gone, swallowed up by the now foreboding forest.
***
Tramping along with his unit, Anson watched yet another field of corn slide by. Now in the Kingdom’s rich central farmland, the royal army was still a two day’s march from the north-western frontier, scene of the latest Karden incursion.
