“I am not a coward, but I am also not what I used to be. All my life I wanted to be a slayer; first of lions, then of my own brother. It is true, Dayn. The morning of the wedding, I was so desperate to have Cinnia back I would have slit Whyn’s throat if need be. I swear, if guards had not been posted at my door…” Reiv heaved a sigh. “It no longer matters. All that matters is that I no longer wish it. I am different now.”
“How are you different?”
“I do not know how to explain it. When I transcended, I went to a place of perfection. It was not easy coming back. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I felt at peace in that place, like I belonged. I came back because I had to, and in so doing I waged the greatest battle of all—the battle within myself. I am tired of fighting. I came here to do what I set out to do, to tell the people what they needed to know. It is their fight now.”
“You mean to tell me you’ll just walk away and lay it all on me and bunch of frightened, helpless people?”
“That is exactly what I am telling you.”
“I swear, if I had the guts I’d knock you flat on the ground!”
“Then do it,” Reiv said.
“Oh, and you think I won’t?”
Reiv shrugged, but in an instant he was on his backside, reaching a hand to his bloodied lip. He smiled at his fingertips. “Not bad for a first attempt,” he said.
Dayn reached down and grabbed Reiv’s hand, yanking him back to his feet. “You’re coming back with me!”
“No, I am going home.”
“And where would that be? Back to Tearia? Or would you prefer to live with Agneis in her realm of eternal happiness?”
“I am going home to Meirla,” Reiv said. “I made a promise to Kerrik and I intend to keep it. Go back inside, Dayn. Do what you have to do.” Then Reiv turned and headed down the street.
Dayn stared until Reiv had disappeared around the corner. For a moment he thought to chase him down and drag him back, but he knew he would be met with only increased resistance. He walked back to the meeting place with a quickened pace. What in the world was he going to do now? Other than send Torin to accompany Reiv back to Meirla, he couldn’t think of a single thing.
BACK TO ToC
Chapter 18: Coronation of Evil
The coronation of the King was to take place in the sprawling space south of the temple. There the lawn sloped away from the portico and stretched into a semi-circular pattern, turning the grounds into a vast open-air auditorium. The area was devoid of seats, except for a row of chairs up front where the yellow-clad royal family sat. The crowd continued to meander in, arranging themselves in groups according to the color of their clothing, some in pastel green, others in blue or dusty rose. Patrons visited amongst themselves or reclined on the grasses of the lawn as they awaited the commencements. But what would have normally been a festive event was dampened by a line of Guard encircling the area with swords at their hips, their steely eyes watching the thousands of spectators. Voices in the crowd expressed confusion at the unexpected show of arms. Their uneasiness increased as the last of the guests arrived and the circle of Guard closed in around them.
Whyn stood off to the side of the portico, watching but hidden from view. As he scanned the sea of talking heads beyond the steps, he could not help but feel jubilant. After his coronation in but a few moments time, they would all be bowed before him. He was eager for the title that would soon officially be his.
The crowd grew quiet as all rose and turned their attentions in the direction of the temple. A row of priests took their place at the back of the portico and stood, draped in white togas, their heads lowered and hands folded in front of them. Before them sat an altar of pink and gray marble. On either side were two great thrones, the one at the right for the Priestess, the other at the left where Whyn would soon be seated. One of the priests stepped forward and began to chant, pausing periodically for the crowd to respond in a well-rehearsed chorus. Then all grew quiet as the Priestess made her grand entrance.
She floated across the portico as though walking on air. A headdress of white plumes towered over her head, and she was draped in a gown of iridescent material that cascaded down her body like shimmering stars. She stopped behind the altar and faced the crowd with an expression of supremacy. A priest walked toward her and presented her with a white dove. She took it and held it up for all to see. The quivering bird struggled to work its wings from her grasp, but she held it tight, then plunged a slender golden knife into its breast. She closed her eyes and raised her face upward, then muttered sacred words before laying the limp, blood-spattered body upon the cold altar. Lifting her arms she, too, began to chant. The crowd fell to their knees and lowered their heads to the ground. When she had finished, the audience rose at her command and waited silently.
At the Priestess’s cue, Whyn entered the portico and strolled across it. He was clothed in a fine tunic of yellow silk. A long, velvet cape of the same bright color was draped down his back. His head was bare of any adornment, his white-blonde hair neatly parted and hanging loose at his shoulders. Cinnia entered several paces behind him, as was her role, and stood quietly to the side of him, watching with an expression of prideful admiration. His mother stood there also, her painted lips compressed into a thin line. She was no longer Queen of Tearia. Now she was only the mother of the King.
Whyn took his place behind the altar and stood next to the Priestess. She gathered his hand in hers and placed it on the breast of the dove, leaving a smear of blood upon his fingers. His hand moved to his chest and he laid it across his heart. A stain of red darkened the pale fabric of his tunic. Words of honor, commitment, and loyalty were spoken between them, and when the ritual was finally complete, the Priestess placed a jeweled circlet of silver upon his brow. He bowed to her, and she smiled then raised her hands to the crowd, pronouncing Whyn the King of Tearia. The crowd applauded with loud acclaim.
The Priestess seated herself as Whyn walked around the altar to the edge of the portico to address the crowd. His eyes swept over them, resting his gaze on as many individual faces as time would allow.
“Citizens of Tearia,” he said in a booming voice, “the era of my father has passed. I stand before you now as your King, a king whose only duty is to lead Tearia to a new age of greatness.”
The crowd cheered, lifting their eyes and arms up to him in adoration.
“But there is much work to be done, for as of late there have been voices raised against us. As your King I hereby set forth the following proclamations to ward off any insurgency and to ensure Tearia’s continued prosperity!”
The crowd shouted words of support and encouragement. Whyn’s breast swelled with appreciation, even as he suppressed his resentment toward the traitors he knew to be amongst them.
“A great lie has been circulating,” he continued. “A lie that goes against the gods as well as our great city-state. And that lie is the Prophecy! It speaks of our downfall, of one who would see to our destruction. But I say to you now, there is no truth in it. It was a lie perpetrated by a sorceress of old—a Jecta witch who sought to rally our enemies and do us harm.” He lifted a finger and pointed it outward, moving it slowly from one end of the crowd to the other. “Any amongst you who speak of this so-called prophecy and spread its lies and give power to it where none is due is hereby declared a traitor. From this day forward any person—man, woman, or child—making reference to it will be permanently silenced.”
Gasps could be heard as the meaning of his words sank in. The people of Tearia had always had the power of free speech, though rarely had anyone raised words against the city-state. But now their king was telling them there were limitations as to what they could say, and death was the consequence for anyone who disobeyed. The audience grew agitated and increasingly restless. The guards fingered their swords. People responded with startled screams. Women pulled children close to their sides.
Whyn raised his hands to silence the crowd. “Why do you cry out?” he
said. “Are you not loyal citizens of Tearia? If so, you have nothing to fear. For if you are indeed loyal, you will have no need to speak lies against her. Rest assured, I hold no grudge against any of you who have spoken of the Prophecy before this day. You did not understand what you were doing. No doubt you were lured by a misunderstanding of its purpose. But I tell you this: its purpose is to bring Tearia down, and for that reason it is treason to speak of it from this day forward.”
The crowd quieted for a moment, no doubt grateful that past transgressions were forgiven. Many of them had spoken of the Prophecy, whether they believed in it or not.
“The Jecta are the source of the deceptions that have brought us to this,” Whyn said, “and for that reason Tearian residents will no longer be allowed to venture into Pobu. Anyone going to that place will be looked upon with suspicion. There is no business any of you should have there. There is talk of rebellion within the Jecta population. But fear not, the insurgents will be quashed before they can draw another breath against us. Too long have we been complacent. Too long have we turned a blind eye while plots are made against us.”
The people encouraged their king with loud declarations against the Jecta. Whyn waited patiently, allowing the wave of support to rise throughout the crowd. He raised a hand to silence them.
“Now I must speak to you of the most difficult thing of all, for it involves he who was once my brother. But Ruairi is my brother no longer. He chose to disobey the King’s command and disregarded Temple law. For that he was unnamed. Now he is called Reiv and lives amongst the others of his kind. Some among you call him the “Unnamed One.” Some even dare proclaim him a Transcendor, further fueling the lies. Only a traitor would call him such! I am here to tell you, he is no one.
“He was arrested for stealing not long ago. Many of you saw him with two others as they were taken. The Priestess in her mercy recognized him for what he once was and took pity upon him. He was released to Pobu, forever to remain outside our walls. But he repays her with lies and claims of a role in the Prophecy. I sought council with him, only to ask that he proclaim the truth about himself for the sake of Tearia. But he hides like a coward. Now I am forced to make this dictate. From this day forward the words ‘Unnamed One’ and ‘Transcendor’ are banned in his regard, as are any words related to prophecy or foretelling. I further proclaim that never again are the names ‘Ruairi’ or ‘Reiv’ to be uttered in Tearia. If any among you, or your children, have those names, or any part of them sounded within your name, they are to be changed. He no longer exists, nor do his names.”
The crowd bowed their heads in submission, though varying degrees of opinion and sentiment could be heard throughout. The Priestess rose and smiled as her eyes scanned her subjects. But Whyn looked at only one person, a member of the royal family seated on the front row.
Brina sat with stiff grace, her expression strained. Whyn nodded as their eyes met, but she clenched her jaw and turned her face away. Whyn was certain his aunt’s heart was breaking, but he felt no pity for her. He knew she was a traitor, and she knew it, too. Her time would come, but not yet.
BACK TO ToC
Chapter 19: Promise Broken
Reiv sat next to Kerrik’s cot, waiting. It was nearly high sun, yet the boy still had not awoken. His breathing was steady, but his face was ashen, and the circles under his eyes left Reiv worried that recovery was not assured.
He placed a hand on the boy’s forehead. “Kerrik,” he said softly. But there was no response.
“He sleeps most of the time,” Torin said as he entered the hut.
Reiv rose, gazing at Kerrik a moment more before joining Torin on the mats by the fire pit. Torin handed him a mug of coconut juice and a bit of dried meat. Reiv looked down at it with curiosity. They didn’t have dark meat very often, but he knew better than to ask the Shell Seeker where he had gotten it.
“Don’t worry,” Torin said, “he’ll awaken soon enough, and then you’ll wish he was still sleeping. His mouth is the one thing that hasn’t slowed down.” Torin laughed.
“I miss his incessant chattering,” Reiv said, then frowned. “He still does not look well.”
“It will take time, but he’s much better than he was. He’ll have you diving for shells with him in no time.”
“I do not like the idea of him going back into the waters,” Reiv said. “It is too dangerous, and he is too little.”
“He is a Shell Seeker. That’s what Shell Seekers do; they dive. He can’t be afraid of the waters. If he is, he’ll be forced into them. How else will he earn his living? No, if he shows any fear of it…well, just don’t add to it.”
“I have never seen him afraid of anything. Hopefully that has not changed in him.”
“I think you’ll find he’s still the same Kerrik, except for the physical scars and temporary lack of mobility. Look at it this way, now our little warrior has a great new battle to tell tale of. How many people can say they met Seirgotha?”
“Only me,” Reiv said.
“But if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten to!” a small voice said from the cot.
Reiv grinned and made his way over. “That is right. What a lucky prince I was.”
Kerrik grinned back at him, his eyes sparkling in spite of the gloomy circles underneath them. “Tell me how you killed her, Reiv. Tell me how you killed Seirgotha!”
“Have we not already told you a hundred times?” Torin said from across the room.
“Well Reiv hasn’t told me, and he was there, not you Torin.”
Torin shook his head with resolution. “You’re right, what do I know?”
Reiv told Kerrik the story, elaborating every detail with a peppering of exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions.
The boy watched in rapt attention, strangely quiet during the entire telling. At times Kerrik’s eyes would grow wide and his jaw slack. With each new piece of gory information he would sit up a little straighter until finally he was upright and clutching at the covers.
“There, now you know it all,” Reiv said.
“Not about the ritual; you haven’t told me about that!”
Reiv’s face grew solemn. “I do not wish to speak about it.”
“Oh, please. Besides, I think you have to tell me,” Kerrik said.
“Oh, and why is that?”
Kerrik twisted his mouth and rolled his eyes as though searching for an answer. “Because legend says that if the healer does not tell the sick person everything, then the sick person can’t get well.”
“You made that up, Kerrik,” Torin said.
Kerrik looked offended, but guilty. Reiv raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Is that true? Are you making up stories?”
“Well…I’m not making it up. I mean, it popped into my head just now, so maybe the gods told it to me. You know, like the gods told you things.”
“I see. Well, if I had known messages from the gods came so easily, I would not have gone through the ritual.”
Kerrik put on his most disappointed face. No doubt his injuries had not weakened his power of manipulation. Reiv found his ability to fight that pitiful look far more challenging than battling sea snakes or facing gods. And so he told Kerrik about the ritual, though he did not tell him everything. When he finished, he paused, then asked, “Kerrik, do you remember the promise I made you?”
“What promise?”
“When we thought we had lost you, out there on the beach, I made you a promise.”
“I don’t remember. What was it?”
“I hesitate to tell you because now I must break it.”
“I thought you said princes never broke their promises.”
Reiv could not help but laugh. “Ah, so you do remember that much. Well, it seems I must break this one. I promised you I would teach you to fight with the Lion—”
Kerrik jerked with excitement. “You will? You—”
Reiv laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Calm yourself. What I have to tell you is tha
t I cannot do it. I have learned something about the sword that I did not know before. I will never use it again, nor will you be allowed to.”
Kerrik again looked disappointed, but Reiv quickly added, “I have something much better though.”
He rose and walked over to his sleeping pallet and pulled the dirk from beneath it. Then he held it up and proclaimed, “This is what I used to slay Seirgotha. Dayn made it for me. It is not as long as the sword, but it is much stronger. It is of star metal. This is what I will teach you with.”
Kerrik’s face lit up and he instantly reached for it. Reiv crossed over and placed the dirk into his unsplinted hand. It was heavy, and at first the boy had difficulty holding it up. But he fixed his eyes upon it with determination and held the weapon out before him, the muscles in his skinny arm taut with effort.
“You must get stronger if you are to wield it,” Reiv said. “It is a man’s weapon, but I think you will soon be ready for it. You had best do what Jensa and Torin tell you if you are to get out of this bed. I will train no weakling.”
Kerrik nodded, but remained silent. The excitement in his eyes said all that needed to be said.
* * * *
That afternoon Reiv took Kerrik outside to sit in the warmth of the sun, but he would not allow the boy to take the dirk with him. Though everyone in the village knew Reiv had the weapon in his possession, there was too much risk to be seen with it again. The spy who had attempted to kill him during the ritual had not yet been found, although an old man who lived in the outskirts of the village had mysteriously disappeared in the days following Reiv’s transcension.
Reiv’s attention turned up the path where he could see Jensa making her way toward them. She had stayed the night in Pobu, and he was anxious to hear what had transpired during the rest of the meeting. She arrived, smiling, and gave Kerrik a hug and a kiss. “I think you’ve been out here long enough, Kerrik,” she said. “Your face is flushed.” She nodded at Reiv, her eyes conveying a silent message.
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