The Pain of Compassion

by Roland Boykin

  “Well I certainly cannot have word get out that I let my patrons starve. I will return shortly.” He couldn’t help himself and bowed once more before turning towards the kitchen.

  From the time they left their rooms, Floanne had not said a word, and now sat at the table with eyes downcast. Ronald reached out and gently raised her head with a finger under her chin. He felt her quiver, and tried to address the fear he saw in her tear-filled eyes.

  “I imagine you wish we could just go home, but I hope you realize that is no longer possible. Sometimes life puts us in a position where all we can do is our best to survive. I know there is a strength deep inside of you that will rise up when needed.” He released her chin and sat back. “Besides, you are in the presence of two of the meanest, nastiest mercenaries this side of the Straits of Durmont. What could go wrong?”

  Ronald was rewarded with a smile as Cedric returned, along with one of the serving girls, loaded down with steaming bowls, and mugs filled with a tart but refreshing fruit drink that filled the air with its aroma. The three of them dug in with a renewed sense of purpose and were almost finished when an explosion outside shook the inn down to its foundation.

  Several chairs crashed to the floor as patrons jumped to their feet and ran out the door. Clouds of dust rained down from the ceiling, ruining their food and drink. Sofia and Ronald stayed seated, but with hands on the hilts of their swords waiting for word of what happened. Floanne covered her mouth and trembled.

  Soon, a young man stumbled into the inn shouting, “The Silverfin exploded and sank. Two other ships and the pier are on fire. Hurry, everyone is needed to fight the flames.” He left quickly and continued down the street, shouting his message.

  Ronald recognized the flash of anger in Sofia’s eyes and carefully laid a hand on her arm. “Your sister?”

  “Her blood debt continues to grow. If she kills so easily, what of the Queen and Francine? Should we return?”

  He squeezed her arm in understanding. “If Gilfor reached the arms-master, I can guarantee Master Horshall will do everything in his power to protect them. Right now it is only the two of us against an unknown number of your sister’s agents. We need allies, and hopefully they will be found in Marlinor.”

  The innkeeper appeared at their table and leaned down to whisper. “Quickly now. Grab your packs and head straight for the stable. The wagon and your horses should be ready when you arrive. Take the north shore road out of town and look for an old pier and buildings about a mile up.”

  As the three jumped up from the table, he explained. “An old friend of mine there has a two-masted schooner he uses for fishing, but claims it’s the fastest ship on the coast. Tell him Cedric sent you, and if he gets you safely across to Marlinor, I will consider his debt to me paid in full.”

  They rushed through the now-empty common room, up the stairs and to their rooms. After packing and ensuring that nothing was left behind, they made their way down the back stairs to the stable where they found the innkeeper harnessing the wagon. Sofia tossed her bag into the wagon and approached him.

  “You are a good man, Cedric. Watch yourself. My enemies will not hesitate to kill anyone they believe helped me.”

  “Don’t worry Prin… ah, Sofia. I’ve been watching out for myself for a very long time, but thanks for the warning. One more thing. There ain’t room on his ship for your horses and the wagon, so I will send someone to bring them back. What should I do with them?”

  “When we rode into town yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice a number of hungry children wandering the streets. Someone should do something about that.”

  A large smile pulled at the scars on his face as he bowed one last time. “I like the way you think, Sofia. I have not said this in a long time, but may the Eyes protect and guide you on your journey.”

  A short time later, two people in a wagon followed by a single rider on horseback could be seen slowly making their way out of town on the coast road. Once over the first small rise and out of sight, the horses broke into a run.

  ***

  Still reeling from his whirlwind journey through the castle, Sebastian struggled to absorb the images of luxury he’d seen. The Ancient One’s secret fortress in the Mountains of Mists was nothing like this. Here the stone floors were covered in colorful designs made with small tiles, and large murals depicting scenes of battle lined the walls, alternating with tapestries attuned to the seasons. However, his sharp eyes picked up the subtle signs of neglect in the faint layer of dust and the occasional wilted flower among the many vases lining the halls.

  The faint echo of a familiar power surrounding the Cup in his hands brought him back to the present. Sebastian realized with a start that the King had already resumed his seat, Prince Mathias standing beside him, and both waiting for him to speak. Before him sat four of the most powerful humans in this part of the world, and they must believe the truth of his words.

  Carefully holding the Cup where all could see, Sebastian cleared his throat and began the well rehearsed message. “Charles d’Rodare, King of Marlinor. High Lord Demitrios of the Deluti sends his greetings, and the hope that you and yours are in good health and fare well. As an ogre, I was chosen to deliver this message so you would know that no sorcery was involved and you could trust my words as true.”

  Pausing to draw a deep breath, the ogre continued with the part of the message that concerned him most. “The Scarred Mage has spent several lifetimes raising a cadre of well-trained sorcerers to spread his evil and hatred toward the Elder Races throughout the world. He has begun sending them to all parts of the country. I be…” he slipped and started again after regaining his composure. “I can personally attest to the success of his plan as I barely escaped Brighton Ferry with my life, and was met with hostility when I arrived here in the Capitol. If not for Prince Mathias, I might not be standing before you now.”

  Following that statement, the King turned to his son. “What happened, Mathias?”

  “I heard a disturbance near the main gate and rode to investigate. I found Sebastian being detained by the City Guard, and surrounded by an angry crowd. The Sergeant explained he had orders to keep all members of the Elder Races out of the Capitol, but before Sebastian could turn his wagon around, a large group of people had gathered.”

  “Some were on the side of the ogre, and the rest had already heard the rumors. The look on Sebastian’s face when someone asked why the Elder Races were planning to attack the human settlements convinced most everyone the rumors were untrue.”

  Duke Benjamin al’Fortuna, who oversaw the area including Brighton Ferry, leaned forward. “Majesty, I just received word this morning from my man in Brighton Ferry and he mentioned an ogre in the city. He originally intended to write how he was concerned about the mood in the city, but that changed after the death of the sorcerer. Apparently, the man not only used his words, but also some sort of power to affect the people. When he died, it was like a dark cloud had lifted from the city.”

  He turned back to the ogre and smiled. “It appears Sebastian here has a way with children also. After he left, groups of youngsters roamed about the city proclaiming how good and kind ogres were.”

  Sebastian shuffled his feet and shrugged as he faced five sets of raised eyebrows. Remembering the rest of the message, he faced the King again. “One more thing, Your Majesty. The Ancient One is aware of your attempt to pursue peace through the betrothal of your son to Princess Sofia of Dahlian and he approves. However, he is concerned that there may be some on either side of the water who do not agree. Therefore, I am to offer my service as a personal guard for the Princess once she arrives.”

  The four men slumped back in their chairs and shared looks of surprise and dawning apprehension. Charles motioned his son to retrieve the Cup of Truth from Sebastian, and rose to address the ogre formally.

  “Sebastian, as King of Marlinor, I accept this unprecedented offer on Princess Sofia’s behalf, and if she is not aware of the honor bestowed u
pon her, then I will be sure to explain.”

  Looking at the concerned faces of his councilors for a moment, he turned back to the ogre. “Your words have served not only to warn us, but also to remind us of the power of the Deluti. If the Ancient One is aware of our plans, then it must be assumed the Scarred Mage is also. On a personal level, you have dispelled any doubts I had as to the intelligence of ogres, and I would be pleased if you joined me for further discussion at a later date.”

  Sebastian bowed to the King and answered. “It would be my pleasure, Majesty.”

  Prince Mathias, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, approached the ogre, and escorted him from the chamber.

  After the door closed behind the Prince and the ogre, King Charles set the Cup in the center of the table and searched the eyes of his dukes. “Thoughts, my friends?”

  Duke Marcus d’Lorange picked up the Cup and held it up before his face, slowly turning it round and round as if he’d never seen it before. “I had originally planned to wait for further clarification on the message I received from one of my contacts this morning. In lieu of the ogre’s warning, perhaps it’s best I share it now.”

  The Duke glanced around at the others before fixing his gaze on the King. “Charles, it pains me to report that apparently the Princess and her escort were ambushed on their way from their capitol to the port city of Seaside. It is still unknown whether anyone survived, but someone claiming to be the Princess was seen at an inn there, but then disappeared. Unfortunately, we must entertain the idea that someone in the Queen’s court, or the Queen herself has been influenced by the Scarred Mage, and the overture of peace was an attempt to get us to lower our defenses.”

  Duke Strumant lurched forward and grabbed the Cup out of Marcus’s hand. “I told you we couldn’t trust those witches, Charles. They could already be on their way to attack our shores! We must deploy the army to protect the coast and send all our ships out to sea so they don’t get trapped in the harbor.”

  King Charles sighed and sat back with his eyes closed. After a moment, he looked up and appealed to his most trusted advisor. “Marcus?”

  Duke d’Lorange quickly dismissed the smile he’d been hiding behind his hand and faced the King with an appropriately serious expression. “Anthony has a valid point, but we should proceed with caution and secrecy. Also, I think it would be wise to continue preparations for the betrothal so as not to alert any agents the Queen may have in the city.”

  “Very well. Begin sending troops to the garrisons along the coast as soon as they are ready. Have the ships in the harbor leave one at a time, but have them stay close. I don’t want the Capitol left undefended. Also send a message to all units to be on increased alert without giving a specific reason why. As you said, Marcus, we don’t want to alert any agents here or elsewhere.”

  The King stood, followed closely by the others, bringing the council to a close. “Let us hope these precautions prove unnecessary. I have been a fool believing the Scarred Mage no longer concerned us. I’m afraid we will need the Blessings of the Eyes more than ever.”

  As the men filed through the door, Charles stopped his old friend. “Marcus, you will contact me as soon as you hear word of the Princess?”

  “Of course.”

  ***

  Sebastian waited patiently outside the common gate for Prince Mathias to arrive with his horse. Why anyone needed a horse to get around the confines of the city was a mystery to him. He was not lonely, however, as Poppie had met him at the gate. The boy kept up a continuous chatter on the wondrous sights available in the Capitol, and how Poppie was just the person to guide the ogre.

  Mathias soon arrived leading the horse and noticed the surprised look on the ogre’s face, and laughed. “What, you think Princes are too good to walk?”

  “Then why the horse?”

  “I may be called back to the Palace at any time and need to return quickly.”

  Sebastian nodded his head as if he understood while struggling with the decision of how much he could trust this human. Em always accused him of being too trusting, and admittedly, it had gotten them into trouble on occasion. He didn’t have as much experience with humans as she did, but there was something special about this young man.

  At this time of day, the streets of the Capitol were mostly deserted, and the few folks about gave them a wide berth. Sebastian felt it would be safe to speak of certain things except for the pair of ears attached to the little man who proudly skipped at his side.

  “Poppie, would you run ahead and inform the innkeeper me and the Prince will be arriving soon, and some refreshment would be appreciated?”

  The boy smiled up at the ogre, “You can count on Poppie!” and took off.

  Subtlety not being a part of an ogre’s nature, Sebastian turned to the Prince. “Mathias, can you be trusted?”

  They continued to walk on in silence while the Prince considered the ogre’s question. When the inn came into view, he looked up at Sebastian. “I don’t have an answer to your question, Sebastian. What I can tell you is my family and this kingdom are more important to me than my own life. I suspected there was more to your message than what you were willing to share with the entire council, but I claim the right to use that information to protect the ones I love.”

  The honesty in the young man’s statement was more important to Sebastian than the answer to his question. “Understood.”

  Having made his decision, the ogre led the way into the inn and directly to his room where he ushered the Prince through the door. “Come, we have much to tell you.”

  “We?” Mathias hesitated and then froze as Emma suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

  “Yes, we, Princeling. Now sit and listen.”

  Fear and uncertainty robbed the Prince of all control as he practically fell into the nearest chair and stared at one of the deadliest assassins known. A whisper involuntarily escaped his lips, “An Elintrian Light-Shifter.”

  Chapter Fourteen ~ Jewel of the Plains

  Jamar slid off his mount along with the others, and motioned for Navon to do the same. The Brothers trotted away in the direction of those who had first spotted the work party. The men began a slow progress down to their waiting family members, followed closely by the draft horses pulling the heavily-laden wagons.

  Lodorn walked up carrying Navon’s weapons. He handed the bow and quiver to Jamar, but kept the sword. “Come. Must see Maudwan. Rumors start.”

  The crowds of family members stared at the three of them, and then parted to let them pass. Painful memories of the ridicule Navon experienced while growing up different from his brothers, threatened to strip away his fragile confidence. Only Moshere’s parting thought of well-being and courage kept Navon’s head up while he matched the older men stride for stride.

  Banishing old feelings, he concentrated on studying the people they passed and the city that waited. No wonder they stared. His sun-burned skin and long, pale hair set him apart from all those gathered. What captured his attention, however, were the colorful clothes worn by both men and women alike. He had never seen cloth that flowed as a person moved, or billowed at the slightest stirring of a breeze. Their clothes looked so much cooler than what he wore. Hope arose that he would be allowed to wear something similar.

  Unlike the people filling the path into the city, the workers in the fields ignored them and the celebration going on over the return of the men. These must be the slaves Jamar talked about. They also wore the same rust colored clothing as the men who had gone out to harvest meat, which only made sense. Why take a chance on ruining the brightly-colored outfits they normally wore? He quickly rejected the idea he might end up as one of them.

  Navon would have paused to stare, as they approached the city, if he had not been flanked by his captors. The outer stone buildings, some several stories high, formed a wall that appeared to encompass the entire city. The only openings on the ground floor were arrow ports. He shivered at the thought of being part of an att
acking army. It was just as much a fortress as a city.

  Jamar and Lodorn greeted the two guards at the heavy gate that led through the buildings on this side and into a short tunnel. They were the first men Navon had seen dressed as warriors. They reminded him of his brothers back at the Keep, heavily armored and bristling with weapons.

  They reached the end of the tunnel and all came to a stop, but for different reasons. Navon stared in awe at the large body of water that filled the inner courtyard, surrounded by stands of odd looking trees. Tall, graceful trunks topped with a crown of over-sized leaves, resembled nothing he’d ever seen before. A large jumble of boulders stood piled at one end where water gushed from the top and cascaded into the lake below. A cool, moisture-laden breeze teased the tips of his hair, a welcome respite from the heat outside.

  The men raised their bowed heads and whispered together the words, “Chrystolos de la Palma.”

  Navon tore his gaze away from the image of serenity and life to raise an eyebrow towards his guardians.

  Jamar smiled, and with a broad gesture, proudly indicated the oasis before them. “The Jewel of the Plain. In the long ago, many tribes fight to control. The Brothers came and forced peace. In all history, the water never stop. Plenty for all, and for the fields. Many search for riches, but this our treasure.”

  For the first time, Navon felt the spirit of his amulet reach out to him. It gently guided his awareness to the presence of a power deep beneath the oasis. The young man knew than this was not an accident of nature. The demonstration of the Deluti’s power, and if Em and Sebastian could be believed, a power he possessed, sent a shiver coursing through his body.

  Lodorn, mistaking the shiver for fear of their meeting, touched Navon on the arm. “Come. Maudwan fair and merciful. This way.”