A King's Caution

by Brennan C. Adams

  The five children giggled and shrilly chattered with one another, their hands entangled in nearby rigging.

  “What exactly is our goal?” Tejesper asked.

  Raimie’s mood immediately darkened. “Why don’t you gather everyone near the mainsail? I’ll explain there.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Tejesper murmured before trotting to carry out his task.

  Raimie managed to contain his wince. Almost a year and a half into his reign, and he wasn’t accustomed to the honorific, but he was learning to accept it. Being ‘Your Majesty’ was simply an annoyance he tolerated in order to focus on his passion: fixing this broken nation. Helping the people who called it home.

  The students quickly assembled, just as their transport weighed anchor and shoved off. For a moment, Raimie rode a wave of seasickness which mirrored his dread before wrangling it under control. It lurked below the surface, ready for a moment’s lapse, but for now, he pinned it in place.

  “We must commit this breach of trust,” Nylion reminded him. “It is for their own good.”

  I know that. Doesn’t make it easier.

  The student’s eyes shone with anticipation, eager to learn why they’d traveled across the kingdom for their field trip. Raimie swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to destroy their excitement, to be the one to steal the peace they’d recently found, but these people, children and adults, were primeancers. Theirs would be a life of strife and turmoil rarely broken by times of tranquility. Best to ease them into it as gently as possible.

  “I know you’re interested to learn why we've come to this far corner of Auden,” Raimie started. “We’re here to solve a problem. Over the last three years, some of you may have heard rumors concerning pirate attacks on our coastline. Recently, I’ve learned from the Hand that these cutthroats, the Serpent Pirate Crew, have established a base on the northernmost of these three isles. That island is our current heading.”

  Nervous mutters rose among the students, but Raimie couldn’t afford to let them speculate.

  “I’ve an assignment for you,” he quickly said. “I require this Serpent Pirate Crew, removed from Auden. To that end, I’ve brought you, my most qualified subjects, to drive them out.

  “I’m not asking for a massacre!” he raised his voice over their alarm. “Although, if that’s how you decide to remove the problem, no one will stand in your way. Pirates are the vilest of scum. They deserve whatever fate they receive. You may take whatever course of action you wish to accomplish your goal. That is why we’re here. That is this field trip’s purpose.”

  They waited for him to continue, to laugh and tell them it was a joke, and when he didn’t, protests rang over the vastness of the open sea. Raimie let their anger beat against him until one voice rose above the rest.

  “Why would you do this?!” Miranon cried. “I thought we’d be safe with you! Security is what you promised, and now you push us into a fight?! How will that keep us safe?”

  “You’ve grown strong in the last year. A pirate band should prove no problem to any of you,” Raimie answered before quietly adding. “I’ll keep watch, Miranon. No one will encounter true danger.”

  “Children are with us!” she shouted. “Do you expect them to fight as well? How cruel can you be?!”

  The female Zrelnach, Jeme, took a step forward, laying a hand on Miranon’s shoulder. “He does them a kindness, Miri,” she said. “You know the stories of our kind, same as everyone. We inevitably die young. Do you think such a fate is because primeancers lead peaceful lives? The King goes out of his way to provide us with an opportunity to safely hone our skills. He does this in the hopes that some of us will defy the odds.”

  Miranon sucked in a breath as if to argue but instead, turned on her heels and stalked away. With a small sigh, Tejesper chased her. The rest of the students stared at Raimie, indecision evident on their faces. They wanted to believe that he, the man who’d provided safe haven, had their best interest at heart, but doubt wavered in all save Jeme. She alone gave a nod of understanding.

  Raimie had no intention of soothing the students’ fears. He’d do what was required to prepare them. They could judge his actions afterward.

  “We’ll arrive at the isle by midday, so ready yourselves until then. When we arrive, remember. I’ll be near if you need me.”

  He marched to the railing, dismissing them. Listening to quiet conversations behind him, he stood firm until the students’ noise had faded to nothing before vomiting into the ocean. Nylion comfortingly murmured beside him.

  * * *

  In the end, they hadn’t needed Raimie. A single ship had come from the isle to greet them. The students had taken one look at the emaciated bodies and faces of the children working its lines, and a spark had ignited. Against fourteen Ele and six Daevetch primeancers, the pirates, both aboard ship and ashore, hadn’t stood a chance.

  While the pirates’ former slaves boarded his hired vessel, Raimie waded through corpses. Within their base, the pirates had held so many children captive the poor things had filled the ship to the brim.

  The ship’s captain had not appreciated the unexpected influx of passengers. His whining continued to incessantly buzz in Raimie’s ear. In the end, the man had stubbornly insisted that, with the children occupying so much room aboard ship, none remained for the King or his students. With a shrug, Raimie had relinquished the second half of the captain’s gold. Upon hinting at significant compensation for a task well done, he’d extracted a promise from the man to return the children to their homes. As for him and the students, they’d find another way to the mainland, even if he must individually shade meld the Ele primeancers to its shore.

  For tonight, however, they would rest, recuperate, and celebrate, such that they could. Raimie intended to make the night as lively as possible, temporarily driving memories of killing and death from the students’ minds. Before disembarking the hired ship for a final time, he’d persuaded the captain to leave them a barrel of rum. He’d also retrieved the fireworks he’d toted from Uduli in anticipation of this very outcome.

  While they waited for nightfall, he’d bid the students to explore the beach with no other instruction save to keep an eye open for trouble. As he lifted the last body over his shoulder, screeches, laughter, and splashes drifted over the ridge, and Raimie smiled. His plan had worked as he'd hoped. No one could resist the ocean’s pull for long, not when friends surrounded them.

  With one final heave, the corpse pile was completed. Raimie viewed it with a strange mixture of pride and melancholy. Pride at the efficiency of his fellow primeancers. Melancholy that the pirates’ actions had led to their necessary elimination. He felt no regret for their deaths. Slavers who specialized in children were a plague upon the world, one which needed to be seared from existence.

  Speaking of which. Casting about for a source of flame, he found none in his immediate vicinity, which elicited a groan. They’d made camp far from the battle site, and when he’d returned to the scene of carnage, he’d failed to bring a striker with him. Stupid. What else would he do with so many bodies?

  “We could let them rot,” Nylion commented.

  And waste this perfectly fertile soil? Raimie scoffed at him. I’m sure Nephiron will appreciate additional farmland, considering how often the mayor complains of food shortages. The city won’t want to wait while the elements reduce these bodies to plant food. No, we burn them. Which means we hike to camp.

  “Need a light?” someone asked behind him, whipping Raimie around.

  A blonde and blue haired man intently peered at him with gray eyes. He leaned his shoulder against a tree, his slight, leather-enclosed frame angled away from the trunk with arms crossed.

  “Raimie, run right now,” Dim’s horrified whisper sounded beside him.

  The splinter’s alarmed tone stirred similar emotions in Raimie, but he couldn’t yet follow Dim’s advice. He wouldn’t turn his back on a potential enemy and certainly refuse
d to abandon his students to one.

  “Where did you come from?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’ve watched you for some time. Wasn’t sure when making my presence known would be safe, considering how many people your friends slaughtered, but…” He shrugged. “You appear to be finished, only sticking around to burn the bodies. So, need a light?”

  “If you have one, I’d appreciate it,” Raimie replied.

  He eyed the stranger as the man moved toward the pile. Something was severely off about him, besides the fact that he’d appeared from nowhere. He was Eselan, which wouldn’t by itself ring alarm bells in Raimie’s head, but combined with the continued rarity of the Eselan race in Auden, he found it somewhat unsettling this stranger had popped from thin air in this out of the way corner of the kingdom.

  And of course, Dim’s warning and both splinters’ readily apparent fear rattled Raimie. They’d retreated as far from the stranger as they could while remaining within their human’s reach.

  “I think we should follow Chaos’ advice, Raimie,” Nylion murmured. “Better to be wrong and look foolish than to be dead, if that is who I think it is.”

  And who do you think it is?

  The Eselan conjured fire to his hand, and as he reached to let it catch on the pile, Raimie took immediate notice of how badly deformed the appendage was. All thoughts of danger slipped from his mind, and he rushed forward.

  “Your hand!” he exclaimed, clutching the Eselan’s wrist. “Good gods, what have you done to it? Come with me. I’ve a salve that might help.”

  The Eselan doubled over with laughter, hiccups interrupting its wide range in pitch, all while Raimie itched to sprint to camp and treat the wound.

  “I’m sorry,” the stranger gasped. “You’re exactly as everyone describes. The ally has never been so genuine before. No wonder E likes you.”

  “Would you please let me help you?” Raimie asked, tugging at the Eselan’s wrist.

  The appendage was ripped from his grasp. “You can do nothing for my hand,” the Eselan informed him. “The damage was done to it years ago.”

  “Oh. My apologies if I’ve offended you,” Raimie murmured.

  The stranger cocked his head, a fascinated smile quirking at his lips. When it was clear he wouldn’t speak, Raimie uncertainly cleared his throat.

  “My work here is done.” He gestured at the fire which steadily gained purchase on the pirates’ bodies. “Would you join my students and me for a bite to eat? I’m sure we’ve rations to spare.”

  Raimie had been taught to always offer hospitality to strangers, even when they unnerved him, until signs of true aggression appeared. The habit had proved useful in the past, and he’d no intention of abandoning it, even with his skin crawling, even with Bright, Dim, and Nylion screaming at him to RUN.

  “You don’t want to make that offer,” the Eselan said.

  Having already begun the trek to camp, Raimie stopped short, foot tapping from his desire to leave the burning bodies in his wake. “Why is that?” he asked.

  “Gods, boy, you haven’t even asked my name. Is exchanging names not considered proper etiquette in this day and age?” the Eselan asked. “I know you’re Raimie, King of Auden. And here’s where you ask…”

  He fluttered a hand toward Raimie who narrowed his eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asked, already certain he knew the answer.

  “Doldimar, Dark Lord of Auden, formerly known as Arivor at your service.”

  The Eselan gave an elegant bow, and when he rose, Silverblade touched the hollow of his neck. He rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t bother,” he laughed, swatting the blade away. “I could squash you like a bug if I so desired, but I haven’t. I’m here to surrender.”

  To Raimie’s amazement, Doldimar, the enemy he’d spent six years questing to destroy, tossed a weapons belt at his feet before raising hands above his head. Slowly, with eyes fixed on the Eselan, Raimie crouched to retrieve the belt and throw it over his shoulder.

  “Bright, Dim, would one of you check whether he hides any other blades,” he murmured.

  “Sure, don’t listen to me,” Dim mumbled as he edged forward, glimpses of black peeking from beneath his clothing. “Stay within reach of my whole’s avatar. That seems like a great idea.”

  Doldimar’s gray eyes snapped to the advancing splinter, and Dim turned stiff as a rod, frozen in the midst of his complaints.

  “I assure you if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now,” the former Dark Lord commented. “I like my games and my playthings. I’m not such a child I’ll destroy them before they’ve outlived their usefulness.”

  “Let Dim go,” Raimie growled.

  Doldimar snorted. “Dim. Is that what you call it?” he asked. “All right. Have the disobedient piece back.”

  He wiggled a raised finger, and Dim gasped, zooming to cower behind Raimie.

  “Why are you really here?” Raimie asked. “And if you’re powerful enough to wipe me from the face of the earth without a thought, why have you been in hiding for the last four years?”

  “I haven’t been hiding,” Doldimar scoffed, face pinching with disdain. “I’ve been watching. Surely you can tell the difference.”

  Raimie didn’t grace him with a response, a smart decision considering the Eselan hadn’t truly wanted one.

  “No?” he continued. “Not as smart as I took you for in that case. As for why the sudden desire to throw myself on your mercy, E told me he’s determined a way to break the cycle. I couldn’t find him, but your location’s always been a blazing beacon in the shadows. You’re his ally. You’ll eventually lead me to him, so… here we are.”

  “E? Who’s that supposed to be?” Raimie asked.

  “Erianger,” Doldimar made a face, “my old friend from another life.”

  “You mean Kheled,” Raimie said, voice going soft.

  “Yes, yes, whatever he calls himself now,” Doldimar conceded, dismissively flapping a hand.

  Raimie warily regarded the Eselan. “You expect me to believe you’d overrule the command Daevetch holds on you because of a slim glimmer of hope?”

  “Oo… he has told you our story!” Doldimar giggled. “And yes. That’s what I expect.”

  No way in hell did Raimie trust the man who’d once dominated his kingdom, but the Eselan had twice mentioned the marvel of Raimie’s continued life. Considering the enmity between them, he should be dead. Doldimar could have killed him rather than offering to light the pirates’ pyre. Raimie hadn’t heard or felt the Eselan coming.

  “I did,” Nylion said. “I should have said something. I am sorry. Do not, however, take the bastard at face value. Put the weapon away. It will make us look confident, but do not let down your guard, Raimie.”

  I never do.

  Raimie did feel more than a little silly brandishing a weapon at an unarmed man, regardless of the primeancy said man could wield. What could he hope to accomplish with his blade in any case? The only one who could kill the embodiment of Daevetch was Kheled, and Raimie’s friend had vanished like a forgotten dream. He sheathed Silverblade.

  “We’ll see,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. “Come with me.”

  “A moment,” Doldimar interjected, lowering his raised arms. “I’d hoped you might satisfy my curiosity before we’re surrounded by your friends. You don’t wear Shadowsteal. It’s typically E’s weapon, but I understand this cycle has seen the sword given into your hands. So, my question. Why isn’t it with you?”

  The question seemed intrusive coming from his enemy, but Raimie couldn’t see the harm in answering it. Replying would cost him nothing, and gain Doldimar little.

  “I don’t like what it does to me,” he said. “Seeing the world in slow motion and vibrating to the tune of Ele’s power aren’t exactly pleasant experiences.”

  “Ah. Perhaps you should try my blade, Lighteater,” Doldimar suggested, pointing at the two-handed sword hanging from Raimie’s shoulder. “Completely the o
pposite of its counterpart.”

  Did the Eselan really think Raimie was that stupid? Shaking his head, he pointed ahead of him. “You first.”

  Raimie kept a close eye on Doldimar’s back as they marched toward this evening’s campsite. In the past, he’d never considered surrender as a possible outcome. The idea seemed too farfetched, but here they were. He half-expected the Eselan to turn on him at any moment, but they arrived at their destination without a single surprise or interruption.

  His students’ excited chatter reached him, and Raimie turned grim. He’d wanted to make tonight special, a glorious evening of fun and frivolity to drown out the guilt which surely haunted his companions. But with this-he needled his gaze at the small of Doldimar’s back-his plans were ruined.

  The two of them came into view, and for a single moment, Raimie caught a glimpse of the students, his fellow primeancers, in their unguarded state. The group had decided to let their ocean-soaked clothing dry on their bodies, and their drenched hair lay flat on their heads. Games from the beach had carried up the ridge to the campsite as young ones chased one another in rings around the fire. The adults amusedly poked and prodded giggling children into meal preparations and bedroll arrangements.

  An Ele child caught sight of first Raimie and then Doldimar, and the excited grin which had immediately bloomed at her protector’s appearance froze on her face as her eyes widened. She and a Daevetch child had been sneakily examining Raimie’s fireworks when he and Doldimar emerged from the trees. Her strange behavior caused the boy to turn, and his features went slack as if drunk.

  The Ele child screamed, and all twenty primeancers scrambled into battle stance, although the Daevetch users’ response times were minutely more sluggish.

  “Raise your hands if you wish to avoid fourteen Ele streams,” Raimie whispered to Doldimar with some measure of pride.

  The Eselan did as suggested, if more slowly than Raimie would have liked. Fascinated gray eyes stared at the light and shadow coated limbs which confronted him.

  “It’s all right, everyone,” Raimie yelled, stepping before Doldimar. “Everything’s under control.”