by Ajax Lygan
“To be frank, you sound sad about it.”
“Yeah?” he said with a forced smile. “Well, it doesn’t matter much now.”
“Well, it’s obvious you want out, right? I mean, why else try to sell half the country.”
“I’ve never wanted to be there. So many times, while I was a kid, I tried to run away, only to be brought back kicking and screaming. I was the heir of the King and there were certain expectations of me. Just like Ulthir was the pinnacle son, I was the jobbie.”
“Then why didn’t you leave after your father died?”
Dimitri took in a deep breath and pointed back to his bottle. “Hitting me with the tough ones, your Eminence. You sure you don’t want a drink?”
Tempest shook his head as Dimitri took another swig.
“This was the one thing that Ulthir wanted. All his life, he wanted to be King. When our father died, I felt only anger and rage. Mostly a release of the years of torment he’d put me through. When it was described in his will that we were both to rule, I busted out laughing, thinking it was a joke.”
The dwarf shook his head. “The fury I saw in Ulthir’s face was exactly what I wanted. He expected the entire throne to himself and having to share it with me was out of the question. However, the following day, Ulthir approached me and started planning everything, like he had made the decision for me that we were going to rule together. The way he went about it just got under my skin; it was at that moment I decided what path we were going to follow. I told him I would never rule with him; that Dorthomir was mine. Thus, began the war that has lasted ever since.”
“You never wanted to rule in the first place. You only did it for spite, out of pure hatred?”
Dimitri smirked up at Tempest, looking through his bushy brows before looking away, staring down at the ground as he rubbed his hands together.
“I can hear the remorse in your voice, you know,” Tempest said. “I don’t think you brought your brother here for one last laugh, so why did you come, really?”
Dimitri glanced up at Tempest a few times, his hands rubbing faster, before he stood up from his chair. “I want this to be over,” he said as he began pacing around the tent. “Dorthomir is a bog of ruins. Most of our people are either dead, wounded, or have fled to the mainland. For the last five years, my anger fueled my desire to see what became of my brother. But now…” Dimitri stood with his hands on his hips and let out a sigh.
“What changed?” Tempest asked.
Dimitri let out a single bark of a laugh as he turned around, smiling. “What else… love.”
Both men smiled as Dimitri pulled out a piece of parchment from his chest pocket. He handed it to Tempest, revealing a crude drawing of an elven woman.
“She’s beautiful,” Tempest said, handing the drawing back.
“She was…” Dimitri reminisced, studying the drawing, tears pooling in his eyes. He folded the sketch back up before placing it back in his pocket. “Before she passed, she made me promise to end this.”
“What are you willing to do to honor her wishes, then?”
“Anything.”
“Let us honor her, then,” Tempest said, stepping forward, his arm extended. “Come with me right now and let’s speak with Ulthir.”
Dimitri stood there biting the inside of his cheek as he stared at Tempest’s hand. He smiled and shook his head. “You don’t know, Ulthir. He’s very black and white. Father’s note said that both of us are to rule. He’s so stubborn, he can’t move far enough to the side to find an alternative.”
“Then I will be the same. I will give him two choices, agree to compromise or lose everything.”
Dimitri smiled and grasped Tempest’s arm. “All right, your Eminence, but I think you should be the one to do the talking.”
The two men left the tent and made their way across the courtyard. Tempest looked up at the sky as they walked. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, its final rays clashing against the clouds in a sea of orange, blue, and pink. Once they reached Ulthir’s tent, his guards smiled at Tempest before placing their hands on the hilt of their weapons when they saw Dimitri following him.
“We’d like a word with Ulthir, if he’s willing,” Tempest said.
One of the guards lifted the flap of the tent and spoke with his King, returning before him. Ulthir frowned and squinted, his eyes shifting back and forth between Tempest and his brother.
Tempest turned and looked at Dimitri, who was returning his brother’s gaze with a devilish smile—one that gave the impression of a conniving scheme.
Tempest took a step in front of Dimitri to break the brothers’ line of sight, albeit a moot point, given their size. “We need to talk about what I discussed today. I would appreciate it, if you would hear me out.”
“You are welcome here,” Ulthir said firmly, wagging his branch sized finger, “but him, he can rightly fuck off back to his own side of the yard.”
“The discussion involves not only you two, but all of Dorthomir.”
Ulthir caught a few glances from his men when he turned his head. He retreated back behind the flap, before shouting from inside the tent. “All right, hurry it up before I change my mind.”
Dimitri and Tempest smiled before proceeding into the tent. It was shocking how similar Ulthir’s tent was to his brother’s. A similar-looking bag, chair, and bedroll was all that the brothers seemed to need on their travels.
Ulthir was leaning on his war hammer when the two men entered the room, setting an uneasy tone for the start of the discussions.
“Ulthir, what matters the most to you?” Tempest began, raising his hand before Ulthir had a chance to reply. “And I want you to think deeply about your answer, before responding.”
Ulthir scratched his fingers through his red mutton chops before looking at Tempest and answering. “Dorthomir.”
“Is it more important than your father’s wishes?”
Ulthir opened his mouth to speak. “Now hold…”
Tempest raised his hand again, cutting off the man’s response. “To put it plainly, you have two options, which are what I presented you both with earlier today. Either you reconcile your differences, or the IRC will decide what to do with Dorthomir. I can almost assure you they will strip your island of everything that you hold dear.”
Ulthir blocked one nostril with his finger and blew snot on the ground before shouting at Tempest. “There will be no one who takes Dorthomir from the hands of its people! Every man, woman, and child would die before letting some petty little bawbag take it from us!”
“And how long would you last?! A month if you’re lucky? Dimitri told me your people have flooded the mainland because of all the fighting.”
“They’re not true children of Dorthomir,” Ulthir said, waving his hands. “Those still standing are worthy of the name.”
“Families trying to keep each other alive are no fewer children of Dorthomir than those stubborn enough to stay. Tell me this, do either of you have heirs?”
The two men looked at each other before shaking their heads.
“So, if both of you die right now, what happens to your country.”
“The remaining nobles would fight over the island, likely fracturing it into more territories,” Ulthir said.
“And there you have it. The only way Dorthomir remains whole, is if the both of you reach a consensus. The good news is that Dimitri has agreed to stop the fighting.”
“Under what terms?” Ulthir asked, cocking his brow.
“That you let me walk away from it all, the royalty, responsibility, everything,” Dimitri said taking a step forward.
A slow chuckle rumbled from Ulthir’s frame, turning into animated laughter as the seconds passed.
Tempest took a step to the side, readying his magic in the event that either decided to engage.
“You think you can just walk away? After everything you have done?!” Dimitri crossed his arms and began turning around before Ulthir shouted once more. “Don’t
you dare turn your back on me when I am speaking to you!”
The two turned to face each other, snarling like two wolves vying for the same piece of meat. Dimitry pulled a hidden blade from his sleeve while Ulthir raised his war hammer.
Tempest knew if he did not calm them down immediately, this would end in a bloodbath, ending any hope he had at accomplishing his goals. He stepped forward, gripping his force magic around their bodies, squeezing them as if each were wrapped tight in the coils of a giant snake.
The two men’s eyes bulged from their faces as they struggled to move. “What part of this did either of you not understand?!” he shouted. The two dwarves’ feeble attempts to move only resulted in grunts and popping sounds as their bodies began to compress under the enormous pressure.
“Now will you reconcile or will you die right here and right now?” The two dwarves glanced at each other before looking back at Tempest and straining to nod. Tempest released them, causing both men to crash to the floor, coughing, sputtering, and struggling to breathe.
Ulthir’s guards rushed in at the sound of the commotion, only to have Ulthir wave them off as he stood, bent over, heaving. “Go on, I’m fine.” Ulthir said. The two guards retreated back behind the tent flap as Dimitri and Ulthir straightened.
“I heard the Aspects were powerful, but that…” Dimitri said coughing. “I’d hate to see someone get on your nasty side.”
“Normally, I detest violence, but it seemed the only thing either of you would understand at the time,” Tempest said, brushing the dust off of his robe. “Dorthomir has no more time to waste on your squabbles.”
“Aye, but neither I or my people will accept allowing Dimitri to go without consequence.”
“Nor should they,” Tempest said, turning toward Dimitri.
Dimitri took a step back with his arms outstretched. “We never discussed this, your Eminence.”
“No, but you said you were willing to do anything to stop the fighting. What you did is unforgivable. You displaced people from their homes, injured and killed innocents—all for the hatred you harbored towards your brother. Now you must atone for those mistakes.”
Tempest paused with a stern glare. “Before you respond again, remember the promise you made.”
Dimitri smirked and folded his arms. He reached into his chest pocket, holding his hand there for a moment before pulling it back out, a look of determination in his eyes. “All right, I’ll do it.”
“The people want your head, but even I could not do that to my own brother,” Ulthir said, tossing his war hammer down beside the tent’s wall.
“Oh, how generous you are, oh honorable one. Please tell me, what shall be my penance?”
“One hundred years of hard labor. You will help me rebuild the kingdom you helped destroy.”
“One hundred years?!”
“Mm-hmm,” Ulthir grunted. “Twenty years for every one you stole from our people.”
“Ungroth’s hairy sack! I’d rather just make a run for it.”
“I won’t allow it,” Tempest said, holding up his arm. “My wardens will track you faster than you can pack your bag, and then you won’t need to worry about your death. I’ll ensure the Gods know how deep your treachery lies.”
From Dimitri’s darting eyes and how he flinched as Tempest approached, he was certain he’d sold him on the bluff.
“All right, but isn’t that a bit much?”
Ulthir just shook his head, but Tempest had a better idea. Ella and Riika constantly went on about how they wanted to help change the world. With Tempest as the Aspect, they could change things for the better.
“Ulthir, how would you feel about myself and my companions helping with the rehabilitation efforts on Dorthomir?”
The question seemed to catch Ulthir off guard as he grabbed a fist full of beard and stammered. “W-well, I certainly am not one to turn away help from an Aspect, but your Eminence, this is not your burden to bear.”
“Don’t think of it that way; think of it as my own selfish request. My recommendation is fifty years of hard labor. If you agree, I will assist with the clearing and rehabilitation efforts, along with my companions. We will personally invest in Dorthomir’s rebuilding, with no expected recompense. This would be a great opportunity for myself and my wardens to test our ideology for building a better Iðna.”
Ulthir glared over at his brother before extending his arm to Tempest. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Tempest clasped Ulthir’s arm before turning back to Dimitri. “How about it, Dimitri?”
“Well, I can’t say I am happy about it,” Dimitri said, scratching his cheek. “But it’s better than being tormented for eternity.”
“Then I have your word?”
“Aye.”
The two men clasped arms before turning toward Ulthir, who was holding three filled drinking horns. He extended both men a cup before ceremoniously raising his own into the air. “To Dorthomir and a brighter tomorrow.”
“To Dorthomir!”
The drinking continued late into the night as Dimitri and Ulthir told childhood stories. Dimitri spoke of his father’s anger and discipline, while Ulthir spoke of the weight of responsibility and the crushing depression of perfection. By the time the liquor ran dry, both men had laughed and cried, gaining a better understanding of each other.
Before Tempest left the tent, Ulthir and Dimitri both agreed it best to rest for the evening before heading home in the morning. Tempest, as promised, committed to visiting Dorthomir in the weeks ahead, with allies and capital in hand.
The world started spinning around him as he shuffled his way out of the tent. He immediately regretted looking up at the sky in an effort to determine the time as he lost his balance. Instinctually, he braced himself for impact.
When he didn’t touch the ground, he cracked open one of his eyes. Much to his surprise, he was levitating off of the ground. He rubbed his fists into his eyes and blinked rapidly. While there were multiples of the surrounding environs, he was fairly certain he was floating.
He leaned back and straightened his legs, reaching out to place his feet underneath himself. Something to remember in the morning, he thought.
He continued his march toward his room, the thought of sleep enticing him. However, when he reached the top floor and slid the door open, he found no one home. The untouched padding on the floor showed no one had been there since the morning. Tempest scrubbed his face at the sight of the hard mattress, recalling Alyndra’s much more comfortable bed.
You’re a genius. He congratulated himself on dredging up this memory as he made his way down to her abode.
Fairly certain he located the right room; Tempest slid the door open. He froze when he saw the multiple bodies sprawled out in the bed, certain he’d gotten the wrong room, but the hazy shades of blue, white, and purples had him inching closer.
When he reached the foot of the bed, he smiled. Alyndra spooned Saïgra, while Riika spooned Ella. A lingered smell of the night’s activities brought a smile to his face as he turned to shut the door. He cursed himself for having had to attend to the dwarves, as he would much rather have enjoyed the time with his companions.
Sleep was what was important, now though. Tempest undressed quickly and wormed into in the small space between Ella and Saïgra, snuggling between their warm bodies. Hitting maximum comfort, he found himself quickly drifting off to sleep.
Tempest awoke from a deep slumber when the blinding light and frantic shouting made his head pound.
“What?!” Tempest croaked, pressing his palms into his eyes to make his head stop throbbing.
“Your Eminence, thank the gods! You have to get up! There’s been a murder!”
22
Day of Decisions
A herd of gawkers gathered near the cliff’s edge, murmuring and whispering as Tempest and his companions approached. Gregoro shouted for the onlookers to clear out of the way, giving them a path. Several of the IRC members stood nearby, surrounde
d by their guards. The entire way over from his room, Tempest had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He already knew it was most likely to be one of the Shieldbreaker brothers. The lack of seeing either of them in the crowd pretty much confirmed it.
When Tempest reached the nearby cliffside, he leaned over the edge. He leveraged his new keen sight, thanks to Sophia’s bond, to get an unrestricted view of the body splattered on Joromund’s Peak. He was certain he knew who it was based on the size and hair color but thought it best to get a closer look.
Remembering his levitation abilities from the night before, Tempest used this as an opportunity to test his newfound power. To a chorus of gasps and screams from his companions, Tempest stepped off the edge of the cliff.
The spike of adrenaline kicked in as he thrust himself into immediate danger, causing his force abilities to activate. While his previous abilities had allowed him to pull and push with each bond gained from his companions, this control of his abilities came with significantly more finesse and precision.
He created this new flight ability by using streams of his force magic to thrust while controlling and countering it with both small movements of his body and pockets of force to alter his direction. He swooped and pivoted in a twenty-foot square area to confirm he had full control and an understanding of how to move.
Once satisfied, he turned back toward the crowd, looking for his wardens. “Ella, I want you to come down to the base with me and investigate the body.”
“Do you want me to climb onto your back or something?” she asked. Tempest reached out with his hand and picked her up with his magic. She gasped in surprise but straightened as he pulled her close. The combination of abilities was strenuous and a little awkward. However, with his increase in stamina from his recent bonds, he knew he could do this for hours, if need be.
