Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “I don’t know, can you?”

  King Rishi’s sly smirk reassured Gib. The King was going to be all right, despite Koal’s absence. He had his family to keep him grounded.

  The princess groaned. “May we?”

  Gib didn’t stay to listen to their negotiations. Marc put a hand on Gib’s shoulder, and he followed behind the dean. They left the royal suite, quietly closing the door and putting on their boots in the hall. Their departure was marked by silence, only broken by their footfalls. Gib’s head swam as they passed the portraits in the hall. He couldn’t help but steal one more glance at the royal family and long for his own. They were his strength, even with Joel so far away.

  Chapter Seven

  The council chamber of the Northern Empire was dark and uninviting, with cold stone walls and no windows. Mage orbs hovering in the rafters above glowed brightly, filling the space with eerie blue false light, but the illumination did little to settle Joel’s nerves as he took a seat at the enormous oval-shaped table in the center of the room. Liro sat to Joel’s right, and Hasain claimed the seat to the left. NezReth scooted into the chair next to the young Radek lord, while Koal and Cenric seated themselves on the far side of Liro.

  A half-dozen men dressed in Imperial silk entered the room, and leading the pack was Adrian Titus. The Archmage of Teivel swept through the chamber, his chin raised arrogantly and golden robe caressing the floor behind his sandaled feet as he walked. He sat down across from Koal, and his followers took seats beside him. Even in the dim light, Joel took notice of Adrian’s fierce scowl. In fact, not even one of the Imperial councilmen smiled. They merely stared forward, faces as cold and unmoving as the stone walls and eyes devoid of emotion. All of this only served as a reminder of the grave situation the Ardenian envoys faced. Joel clasped his clammy hands together beneath the tabletop, waiting for someone to speak. No one did. Uneasy silence settled over the room, and he hated every second of it.

  The door swung open, and Emperor Lichas Sarpedon marched into the chamber. The crown perched atop his blond curls glowed in the false light, and his crystal eyes were sharp and calculating. As he approached the table, those gathered around it stood and bowed to him. Joel followed along, copying the others, but his eyes were already trained on the five men who had come through the chamber door behind the Emperor. All of them were dressed in strange, exotic clothing Joel had never seen before. Are these the—? Yes, these have to be the emissaries from Nales and Shiraz. He stiffened as he took his seat and was thankful his trembling hands were hidden beneath the long sleeves of his mage robe.

  Emperor Lichas cleared his throat, gesturing toward the strangers. “Chancellor Garron Saronul and Lord Stirling Braun, of Nales.”

  Two of the men stepped forward. Both were tall and lean and wore loose-fitting coats lined with fur. Thick, braided belts ensured their outerwear stayed in place, and cotton trousers dyed a deep shade of blue covered their legs. Both men bowed to Emperor Lichas, and the broader of the two replied in a jarring, heavily accented voice, “It is an honor to be here, Supreme Ruler of the North.” They sat down without another word.

  Emperor Lichas turned to the remaining men and introduced them as well. “Princes Kadar and Rami Dhaki, of Shiraz.”

  A nervous lump formed in Joel’s throat as he dared look at the men from the country so many citizens in Arden feared and hated.

  Two of the three men wore richly colored jackets with long, billowy sleeves made from satin. A wide waistband folded around the trunk of their bodies several times, and both men donned conical felt caps topped with stunning peacock feathers and golden embroidery. A third, more modestly dressed man stood beside them, and as the Emperor spoke, this man turned to his comrades and began speaking to them in a language Joel didn’t understand.

  The extravagantly dressed princes of Shiraz listened to their companion, who seemed to be an interpreter. Once he’d finished speaking, one of the princes replied in the same foreign tongue. The translator relayed his words to the Imperial king. “On behalf of the Holy Seven of Tahir and the mighty Dhaki bloodline, we accept your invitation to Teivel. Let us reach a mutual agreement so we may end the bloodshed on our western border.”

  They came forward to take their seats, and Joel felt his mouth go dry when he realized they meant to sit directly across from him. He met their frigid dark eyes for only a moment before having to drop his gaze to the table. Chhaya’s bane, I can’t believe I am sitting across from two of the Dhaki princes!

  The Dhaki bloodline had been ruling Shiraz for the past eight generations. Known for their iron-fisted rule, they’d slain thousands of their own people to maintain command over their domain. Rebellions were pacified with swift violence, and the laws of the land were absolute and unyielding. Worst of all, the Dhaki used fear as their greatest weapon. Executions were highly publicized events. They wanted to display their so-called “justice” being delivered. They wanted the people to see what happened when the law was disobeyed. Joel had a sneaking suspicion that the Northern Empire used similar tactics. If the common folk live in constant fear, if their hopes and dreams are always being squashed, it’s unlikely they’ll rise against their oppressors.

  Joel knew, as an ambassador, he was supposed to keep an open mind—but he couldn’t help the raw anger creeping into his heart. How were they expected to negotiate peace with these oppressors? Why hadn’t the Emperor told them emissaries from Shiraz and Nales would be here? Why hadn’t they been given warning in advance? Was this blatant trickery or had Sarpedon been so preoccupied that he’d forgotten to inform them? How could anything be expected to be accomplished?

  Joel blinked. If we’d known they would be here, would anything have changed? Would we not have come? He stole another glance at the foreign men sitting across the table and realized he wasn’t being fair. I’m already making assumptions, and we haven’t even gotten a chance to hear what they have to say. Isn’t that what being an ambassador is all about? Listening and compromise? I feel sorrow for their people, but we’re here to find a way to keep our own people from dying needlessly. This could be a chance to end the conflict on our borders. We can stop this war before it even begins and save the lives of countless Ardenian soldiers. I have to remain civil—and not allow my judgment to get in the way.

  The Emperor’s hardened stare passed across each of the gathered men as he took a seat beside Adrian. “Shall we begin?”

  Fresh sheets of parchment paper were passed around the table. Joel took one, as did Hasain and Liro. They had previously decided that the three younger members of their party would take notes and listen, while Koal and Cenric did all of the speaking and negotiations.

  Adrian addressed the table. “We call to order this meeting of our neighbors, the lands Shiraz, Nales, and Arden, pertaining to the prospect of peace across all our nations. Under the watch of His Grace, Emperor Lichas Sarpedon, may the Blessed Son of Light bless our efforts and bring His wisdom to light.”

  Emperor Lichas gestured toward Koal with a simple dip of his head. “What say you, representatives of Arden?”

  Joel had no idea how his father was able to respond with such grace under the scrutiny of so many sets of powerful eyes. “While we of Arden were surprised to learn our neighbors Shiraz and Nales would be present today, we would like to express our gratitude for this opportunity to search out a peaceful solution to our differences.”

  Murmurs rose from the table as the interpreter spoke to the Dhaki princes. A moment later, one of them responded. He frowned as he spoke, as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. The interpreter didn’t wait for permission to speak. He did as his prince commanded. “We will speak of peace when our holy lands have been returned to us. The faith of our good people has been shaken.”

  Koal nodded in the way a parent might respond to a strong willed child. He’d clearly seen this coming. “The history of our shared border has been regrettable for some time, Prince Kadar. Arden’s position on the matter, however, has not c
hanged. The war in which Arden claimed the land took place some eighty years ago, before anyone at this table was even born.”

  Joel glanced at the Emperor. Was that true? Who knew how long this man had been kept unnaturally young?

  “There have long since been settlements placed there. What would Arden do with our people who now inhabit the area? Where would we put them?”

  Joel listened as the interpreter relayed the message and caught Hasain scribbling away out of the corner of his eye. The King’s son kept his face carefully neutral, but the tremble in his hand gave away his true feelings.

  “The land is sacred to Shiraz,” came the Dhaki prince’s reply. “It is there that the Great Prophet Selahattin Ata was born. It is there that he united the nomadic clans together and went on to found our glorious country. The land is holy to our people, but it means nothing to Arden. To give it back would be the most reasonable course of action—yet your king refuses.”

  Koal’s voice was a trained calm. “Our king is in no position to renegotiate our border. This war is old news to Arden, and our council won’t vote to turn over the land. King Rishi cannot act without the council’s approval. His hands are tied in the matter.”

  “What king is unable to rule his country? Perhaps your council needs to be reminded of their place.”

  “Our customs have been in place since the formation of our country and aren’t likely to change any time soon. For the length of Arden’s proud history, our system of government has served us well.”

  “While your customs serve you well, they do not help our people who wish to worship as they once did!”

  With a friendly, open face, Cenric leaned a little closer and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone gathered. “Princes Kadar and Rami, perhaps another solution can be found. Surely the same wisdom which has helped the Dhaki bloodline rule for eight generations can find a peaceful compromise. Are there temples Arden could help to build for your people? Or would it help to open the border so that your people may visit the old land to worship?”

  Hasain stiffened in his seat but kept his thoughts to himself. Joel was glad because he was certain he and Hasain shared the same sentiment. Opening the border sounded like a recipe for disaster.

  Prince Kadar openly balked, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Our lands are precious to us. You would dangle them before us as a constant reminder of what is no longer ours? This is your idea of a peaceful solution?”

  Cenric stayed calm despite the prince’s outburst of rage. “Then perhaps your majesties may have another suggestion?”

  Back and forth the negotiations went until the Dhaki princes were as agitated as Koal and even Cenric’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. When even NezReth had lifted shrewd eyes to watch the encounter, Emperor Sarpedon finally waved to Adrian.

  The Archmage cleared his throat. “Perhaps this conversation should be set aside for now so both parties may recollect themselves.”

  Joel breathed a sigh of relief. Thank The Two.

  Liro shifted in his seat for the first time, drawing attention to himself. And then, to Joel’s utter shock, he spoke. “The wisdom of the Northern Empire is most appreciated. Arden could learn well from this experience, seeing as our own council meetings often descend into boorish dissention long before such a time as this.”

  Joel’s insides felt as though they’d frozen over. The underlings weren’t supposed to talk, but Liro had either forgotten, or more likely, he’d disregarded the rules all together.

  Liro’s words sat like a heavy rock in the middle of the room. Joel couldn’t look up from his lap, but he could feel Koal’s white hot glare directed at his eldest son. Liro made no indication of being uncomfortable; his posture remained relaxed as he clasped his hands loosely together on the tabletop.

  When Joel was finally able to lift his eyes, he caught a heavy look being shared between his brother and the Archmage. Despair blossomed within Joel. Liro shouldn’t have said that. He’s supposed to be fighting for Arden, not showing support for the Empire!

  Adrian broke eye contact with Liro and gestured toward the representatives from Nales, as though he’d already forgotten about the exchange. “Chancellor Garron, what say you to Arden?”

  The chancellor frowned and looked across the table toward Koal. “We come to speak of the tension on our southern border. The build up of your military troops in Ostlea is troublesome to our people in Dalibor, the township closest to our shared border. What is the need for so many soldiers, Seneschal Koal Adelwijn?”

  Koal sighed, and his voice sounded tired when he replied. “There have been rumors of Nales creating an alliance with Shiraz of late, so our council passed a vote to reinforce our northernmost border just in case. Unfortunately, with their nerves on edge already, Arden’s High Council is quick to act on any possible threat of war.”

  Garron’s reddened face twisted into an angry scowl. “If Arden is so worried, they would do well to speak to Nales rather than about Nales. Our country has no intent to join in a war that is not ours.”

  Koal rubbed his face and snapped his fingers in the direction of the underlings. He pointed toward their parchment, silently telling them to take note of the conversation. “Then Nales hasn’t been meeting with Shiraz, Chancellor?”

  Garron took his time responding. “I did not say that. Our meetings are our own, but if you must know, Seneschal, Nales has recently spoken to Shiraz in an attempt to open trade between our country and theirs. It does not serve your country to worry needlessly.”

  “I would agree. Jumping to conclusions is an often dangerous game.” Koal kept his tone neutral, but Joel knew what his father couldn’t say aloud. It would have been bad form to explain in front of all of these strangers how Arden’s High Councilor kept the country in a state of panic. Rumors and lies were common trade from his uncle’s lips, almost as bad as Shiraz’s intimidation methods. How could Arden ever hope to prosper under such conditions?

  Mind and heart heavy with woe, Joel glared down at the parchment resting on the table and continued to take notes.

  The meeting went long into the afternoon before Emperor Sarpedon finally declared a recess. While no end to the border dispute was yet in sight, swords remained sheathed and no blood pooled on the chamber floor. Joel supposed, in that respect, the meeting had been a small success. At least he knew it was possible for the leaders to be in the same room together.

  Joel stayed quiet as they returned to the suite. Thoughts of the council meeting weighed heavily on his mind, and while the others engaged in conversation, he was too distracted to lend his own voice. Fumbling with the notes he’d written, Joel stared at the ground and wondered if reaching a peaceful agreement would ever be possible. Arden’s laws were so fundamentally different from Shiraz and Nales. Would they be able to find common ground?

  This is what I signed up for, Joel reminded himself. These types of situations are what ambassadors are trained for. This is why I left my home, my family—Gib. I came here to learn how to make a difference in the world. I can’t give up so easily or the sacrifices I made will all be in vain.

  “Father,” Liro was saying. “I must insist on seeing a healer.” The elder brother clutched his skull with both hands as he walked into the suite. His blanched face was drained of all color, and despite Liro’s best attempt to hide the terrible agony, Joel could see it in his eyes.

  Liro had been fighting such headaches since childhood. The healers hadn’t been able to cure it—they weren’t even able to give him a proper diagnosis. They could only offer temporary treatments to pacify the headaches. Sometimes herbal medicines were enough, but more often than not, magical intervention needed to be called upon to block the incredible pain.

  Joel frowned, wishing he could offer words of comfort but knowing he would only be scorned for it. He remembered, back when they had still been close, he would often hold a wet cloth to Liro’s forehead and sit with him until the pain subsided. Those days were long
over.

  Koal directed his son to sit down on the lounge. “Here, rest. I’ll call a servant—”

  “I can find a servant by myself.”

  Concern etched the seneschal’s face. “Then I can help you find the healer’s wing.”

  “I’m not a child. I can find my own way.” Liro’s voice was clipped as he peered out at Koal from between his fingers.

  Koal gave his son a stiff nod and finally relented. “Very well. Go. And when you return, we will be discussing the issue of you speaking during that council meeting.”

  Liro departed, leaving perturbed silence in his wake. Koal was still frowning as he set to work writing his report for King Rishi. Cenric clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past, offering silent support. Joel leafed through his own notes, rebellious mind wandering again. It seemed he was destined to have no control over his thoughts while on this mission.

  “Joel, why don’t you take a short break before we review the notes you took during the meeting,” Cenric suggested.

  “All right,” Joel heard himself respond numbly. Perhaps some sunshine and fresh air would do him good. After being locked in that chamber for the past three marks, he had begun to wonder if he’d ever see the light again.

  He went onto the terrace, eyelids fluttering as harsh, blinding sunlight hit him in the face. Gazing across the garden, Joel admired all the flowers, placed in perfect little rows. The hedges had been trimmed recently, their straight edges giving Joel the impression they’d been carved from the same stone as the palace, and the still waters of the pond reflected wispy white clouds from the sky above. The view was vibrant and beautiful, like a painting years in the making. As he admired the scenery, Joel wondered with wry amusement if the people in this marvelous stone city ever found themselves jaded.