Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

I considered his statement. He had a point. His mother died in the battles of Karvalen, leaving him alone. His only local relatives were Tianna and Tymara. Technically, he has a half-brother in Carrillon, but that particular branch of the family is unlikely to be welcoming due to questions of the succession. Then again, as a trainee Knight of Shadow, the Mother of Flame might not be too happy about him in her Temple, either. But Carrillon was far away and the Temple of Flame was here in Karvalen…

  When you have no good choices, you take what you can get.

  “I recall you visited Tymara while I was here for her birthday. I didn’t realize you were a regular guest.”

  “She is my favorite little girl,” he told me. “We used to play vrai, but now she insists we play your game of soldiers.”

  “Chess.”

  “Chess. Yes.”

  “Keep an eye on her. If she’s anything like her mother, she’s going to be a handful.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  I didn’t ask what he meant by that. I’m not sure I was brave enough for the answer.

  We followed the tunnels up to the palace levels. Bronze trotted off to her coal-trough by the courtyard door. I sent Heydyl to let Dantos know I was available. He jogged away and I realized he was far more muscular and athletic than I was at his age. Clean living and exercise? Grow-your-own-giant spells? Possibly. It wasn’t freakish, so it might just be something from his mother’s side of the family. I wish I’d made time to meet her.

  The dragon’s-head throne was unchanged. It was more comfortable than it appeared, but it almost had to be. I hung my helmet on a horn, leaned back between the eyes, crossed my ankles on the end of the snout, and put my hands behind my head.

  Firebrand?

  Yes, Boss?

  We’ve spoken a few times since I quit the king business, right?

  Sure.

  You hear my thoughts when I direct them to you, and you pick up on some of the non-verbal stuff that goes on all the time, right?

  It’s hard to explain, Boss, but yes, you’re not wrong. That’s not entirely right, either, but maybe it’s close enough for whatever you’re driving at.

  What I’m driving at is you know how I sound. My mental tone. The quality of my voice, sort of. Like I can hear someone’s voice and know they’re happy or sad or angry, you can hear me think at you and you can—how do I put this?

  I know how you feel? Firebrand asked.

  Kind of, yes.

  Not the way Bronze does, Firebrand pointed out. She’s the one with the deep emotional connection.

  But you recognize my voice. You remember how my mind felt, or sounded, or whatever, way back when we planned my escape from the throne. You remember how I was, what I was like?

  Sure.

  With that in mind, do I sound different to you now?

  It would help, it said, thoughtfully, if I knew what you were after. There are all sorts of nuances in what you’re asking.

  For the past few years, I’ve been on extended vacation, minding my own business and, for the most part—glory hallelujah!—not being bothered. I’ve stayed mostly out of Karvalen, out of politics, out of everybody’s business. Now I find I’m not… dreading the idea of being involved. Or not dreading it quite so much. Maybe it’s my overdeveloped sense of personal responsibility. Maybe it’s Bronze. Maybe I’ve just hit my limit for time off. What do you think?

  Firebrand was silent for over a minute. I felt it looking—if that’s the right word—at me intently, even searchingly. It examined me much as I might examine someone standing in front of me as I searched for clues.

  Boss, overall you’re still you.

  Oh, goody.

  I’m trying to be serious, and you give me sarcasm. Do you want my opinion or not?

  I apologize. Proceed.

  It’s hard to read you, Firebrand continued, mostly, I think, because your head isn’t constructed like everyone else’s.

  So, I’m a crazy man?

  That’s not what I said.

  You’re not denying it.

  I’m not sure I can.

  What do you mean?

  You’re a vampire, wizard, semi-avatar, and I don’t know what else. You’re also smarter than I am—don’t say a word, Boss—and that makes your head a complicated thing to examine. Your thoughts are reasonably well-ordered, but there are so many of them, all flashing through so rapidly, it’s like drawing a picture of fire. No matter how well you draw, by the time you’ve started, the flames have flickered faster. Only the thought-fire in your head is even worse because it all happens so fast. It’s impossible to understand what’s going on in there.

  Now, it continued, having said that, it’s possible to get a general idea. Fire may not stay in one shape, but you can look at the color, the size, the brightness, the heat—all the gross qualities if not the details. You’re still you, but your thought-fires are more like they used to be. When you finished up here and left us, they were dimmer, cooler. Dull red, but still flickering rapidly. Now they’re brighter again, leaping high, burning hot. I can’t tell if it’s because of Bronze—although that’s where I’d bet the hoard, if I had a hoard. You seem more like you used to be, back when you stood in front of a hole at the Edge of the World and fought everything that came through it. Only less upset, obviously.

  It was my turn to be quiet for a minute. Oddly enough, I felt much better. I didn’t like the idea of being sucked back into the role of a king, but I didn’t fear it, either. Hence my presence in Karvalen, checking in with people I left in charge of things. Yes. I was definitely feeling better.

  I wondered how long it would last.

  Thanks, Firebrand.

  You’re welcome, Boss. But, if we can manage it, can we not take a close look at your head again?

  Why not?

  It’s scary in there.

  That gave me pause. The fiery sword with the dragon-spirit inside it doesn’t like looking into my mind because it’s a scary place? How is the inside of my head in any way frightening? To me, yes, but to other people? I don’t get it.

  I almost asked why. I resisted the impulse.

  Heydyl and Dantos didn’t keep me waiting long. Heydyl came in first and bowed, ushering in Dantos. To my surprise, Nothar followed him. I sprang off the throne and greeted them before they could bow or kneel or whatever. I shook their hands, forcing informality, and we all sat on the dais steps together.

  “I was intending to get down to the Baron’s residence,” I continued, “and pay a call, but I’m glad you’re here, Nothar.”

  “I wish it were in better circumstances,” he sighed.

  “Oh?”

  “The Father of Darkness has touched my own father, and his spirit now walks with the Grey Lady.”

  Firebrand? I thought.

  Boss?

  My theology is still a little fuzzy on the subject of the individual gods and the afterlife. What’s he mean by the Father of Darkness touched his dad?

  You’re asking me?

  Yes.

  I don’t know. Why not ask him?

  Because I hate sounding ignorant.

  But you are.

  “I see,” I said, aloud. “Actually, no I don’t. I gather your father is no longer alive, but I’m not completely clear on the reference to the Father of Darkness.”

  “Really?’

  “Yes. I’m more of an expert on the Lord of Shadow, obviously. The Father of Darkness and I only spoke once, briefly, and it was more a talking-to than a talking-with.”

  “Ah. Yes. Of course,” he agreed, uncomfortably. It probably reminded him I wasn’t the mortal man I pretended to be. Little did he realize I wasn’t an avatar, just a jumped-up bloodsucker with some decent PR.

  “The Father of Darkness,” he went on, “is the Lord of Death. He is the darkness at the end of all things. While the Grey Lady will take the deceased to what lies beyond, the Father of Darkness is the one who decides the day and hour of one’s ending.”

  “Maybe I sho
uld discuss some matters with one of his priests,” I suggested. “He might not be too pleased with some of my activities.”

  “I have never met one of his priests,” Nothar pointed out.

  “The People of the Plains do not have priests, as they do here,” Dantos added, “but our holy men do not make prayers to the Black One. They make the sacrifices in silence.”

  It always seems strange to me to hear Dantos talk about the tribes. Most of the gods and spirits I’ve ever heard of them worshipping are nasty customers and are generally placated and soothed, not asked for favors. It says a lot about life in the plains, I think. Or maybe it says a lot about the so-called gods.

  “So, the Father of Darkness is the embodiment of death, or maybe fate. I think I kind of knew that, actually. He didn’t seem too bad when I met him.”

  Dantos and Nothar exchanged glances.

  “It was only in passing,” I added. “Okay, so the Father of Darkness marked out the last day for your father and the Grey Lady took him on his journey. My condolences, Nothar, and I apologize for making you explain it.”

  “It has been several days,” he assured me. “It is not a fresh wound.”

  “That’s good, at least. Are you formally the Baron, now?”

  “By your grace and that of the Bright Queen, yes, Sire.”

  “Good. What’re you doing up here?”

  “He has come to consult, my lord,” Dantos interjected. “In your absence, we discussed the eastern territories with the Queen. After we related everything we knew regarding your wishes, she decided the Baron of Karvalen should have governance over the city and its environs, while I should be the Duke of the Eastern Marches.”

  “She made you a Duke, just like that?”

  “Just like that, my lord.”

  I turned to Nothar. He shrugged, smiling.

  “My authority is over the city, and thus the majority of people in the eastern marches. While I owe my allegiance and loyalty to Dantos, my Duke, and on up through him to the Queen and to you, he is largely concerned with the relations of all your subjects with both the tribes and the Duchy of Vathula. I ease his burden by governing the city.”

  “See?” I said. “I knew you guys didn’t need me.”

  “With respect, my lord,” Dantos added, “some of the disagreements between your subjects—the farmers, hunters, and ranchers—and the People of the Plains would have been made much simpler if you had taken a hand.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t need me for it.”

  “It has not always felt that way.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. At any rate, I’m here. Not for long, mind you, but I’m prepared to listen to anything you may have to say. Problems, either of you?”

  “There are some complaints about the traffic between Mochara and Plainsport,” Dantos told me. “I have requested the mountain to expand the canals.”

  “Widening them?”

  “Adding to them. There may someday be four canals running between Karvalen and the other two cities.”

  “Does the traffic between Plainsport and Karvalen merit it?”

  “Plainsport grows daily as one of the chief trading sites for the Duchy of Vathula. The People of the Plains are loath to enter the cities of stone, preferring instead to deal with the gata merchants. The gata merchants do not trust the cities of the range, preferring instead to deal with the city of the Lord of Night.”

  “I guess I don’t understand people. Okay, there’s enough traffic and it warrants more canals. Is this a problem?”

  “It proceeds, but the mountain does not respond quickly to my requests. Or, perhaps it is more fair to say it responds less quickly than I have seen it respond to yours.”

  “You’d like me to hasten it?”

  “If it is not too much trouble.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Is that the worst you have?”

  “There are always missionaries of the Lord of Light,” Nothar suggested. “We eject them when we discover them, banishing them from the city, and execute them on the second offense.”

  “Who decided on that?”

  “I did,” Dantos announced. “They are not welcome, and one warning should be sufficient.”

  “I can’t fault your thinking. Carry on.”

  “There is also the matter of the Baroness of Karvalen,” Nothar added.

  “Oh? Who is she?”

  “I do not know. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “As I understand it, the Priestesses of the Flame are not allowed to marry.”

  “Of this, I am well aware. Such is not my intention. Perhaps someone of a less revered and noble bloodline might be found, suitable to the position.”

  “Do I detect a hint of frost in your voice, Nothar?”

  “If my tone has caused any sort of unease in my King, I apologize. I am interested only in the possibilities of finding a bride suitable to the station of the Baron.”

  Firebrand? There’s something going on—or not going on, or previously went on and isn’t anymore—between Nothar and my granddaughter. Any thoughts on the matter?

  Got nothin’, Boss. Nothar’s got a well-disciplined mind. Ask Tianna?

  I might. Upon consideration, however, it may well be none of my business.

  You said it, not me. Although she might say it, too.

  Quite likely.

  “All right,” I replied, aloud. “I’m certainly in favor of it, but Lissette will have a better idea of who might be interested.”

  “I am not certain she will be amenable to the idea of shipping some girl of noble birth to the hinterlands to be wedded to a stranger, Sire.”

  “Good point. She is big on women’s rights. You might have to go visit your prospective wife and get to know her, first. She might even have to like you. Can you be charming enough to win her favor?”

  “It seems a waste of time and effort, Sire.”

  I refrained from any observation about being charming to Tianna. Whatever happened between them, he wasn’t flash-fried, so it couldn’t have been too bad. I think.

  “Well, ask Lissette. She might surprise you. Surely, you’re not the first nobleman to need a wife.”

  “All the other noblemen have neighbors, Sire.”

  “Dantos? Are there plains tribes who would like to have a lady in the city? Or is that not a thing?”

  “My lord, the people of the plains trade their daughters between tribes, always. It is… unusual to have a man and woman from the same tribe, ah… It simply is not done, my lord. But a daughter given to a stone-dweller?” He shook his head. “I recall hearing of a time when such things were tried. It was not considered good.”

  “That might have been my idea,” I admitted. “I did mention something to Raeth about it. Being friendly with the people of the plains, maybe learning their ways, understanding them, even encouraging people to live with them and them to live in the city, all that sort of thing. You say it didn’t go well?”

  “The ways of the grass sea are not the ways of stone,” Dantos replied, and that seemed to be the end of it.

  “So, no wife from the neighbors,” I agreed, “and thus the need to ask Lissette. All right. Talk it over with her, Nothar. If it turns out she’s being unreasonable, I’ll consider discussing it with her. But don’t assume.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Not requiring your attention, my lord,” said Dantos, “but an element I would have your opinion upon?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The Queen has permitted the use of Stadius and the games as a potential sentence for wrongdoers within your kingdom.”

  “I’ve heard, but not in detail.”

  “Those convicted of certain crimes can be sent to the games, there to survive until their sentence is served, or until they die in the arena.”

  “What sort of crimes?”

  “Not knowing her motives, I cannot say why these have been selected, although one might hazard a guess. Any person found guilty of sufficient violence upon
another to warrant intervention may have a sentence of some length. This is also the case with anyone who harms a child—materially harms, I should say, as the discipline of children is viewed differently.”

  “Naturally, but only to a point.”

  “Agreed. Willful murder warrants a permanent status as a combatant. Certain types of abuse against children also carry that punishment.” He cleared his throat. “Some offenses carry harsher punishments.”

  I mentioned something about those, Boss.

  “Yes,” I replied, aloud, “I’ve had word. What do you need from me?”

  “It has long been our custom in Karvalen to incarcerate those under sentence of death to await the King’s pleasure, should you wish to make use of them. Since this is a personal issue specifically relating to you, my lord, we were uncertain about the disposition of those in the King’s Dungeons.”

  “Ah. Of course. I don’t want to say I’ll never need them, because I might. Tell you what. Keep three. If and when a new offender presents himself, take the one who’s been in the dungeon longest and send him to Stadius. How’s that?”

  “What if we have insufficient offenders?”

  “Then we’ll have fewer than three in the dungeon. If the crime rate is that low, I’ll be just as pleased.”

  “As you say, my lord. I will see to it here, but in the capitol, I believe they still have some offenses for which sentence is to await the King’s pleasure.”

  “Hmm. Well, if Lissette says they await the King’s pleasure, then there’s your answer.”

  “As you command, my lord. I have nothing further to offer, aside from expressing my own pleasure at your visit.”

  “And I,” Nothar added. He glanced at Heydyl. I hadn’t dismissed my messenger and his presence was unusual. “May I ask?”

  “No.” He took it without question. “Now, gentlemen, I have places to be, people to see, and, no doubt, things to do.” Bronze nosed open the pivot-door to her room and trotted out. Dantos blinked a bit, but took her appearance in stride. Nothar’s eyes went round.

  “I was informed of her destruction.”

  “She’s feeling much better.”

  “So I see,” he said, softly. I leaped into the saddle and turned, holding out a hand to Heydyl. He didn’t hesitate, but grabbed my wrist and swung up behind me. He had a good grip and placed himself perfectly.