Let Shine The First Light of Hope
Grahamas was wrong.
He had feared that Idimus was tucked away in his tower, plotting their demise and planning an attack. Perhaps even gathering his troops to bring about a war-like charge, all to simply end the lives of their tiny group. Grahamas knew that what started out as a minor irritation for the King had now morphed into a full-fledged threat to his kingdom—one that the paranoid, power-hungry ruler would not let stand.
He had been wrong.
The King was tucked away in his tower, and he now looked at the group as a very viable threat—but he had not planned anything except how to escape from his own kingdom. The moment he read the letter from Grahamas and saw his emblem at the bottom, he panicked. He alerted his guards and ordered them to surround the tower as he ran to its highest floor and locked the door behind him. He nearly fell into his escape chamber and fled as far from Kaldus as he could. Then, he worried that Grahamas already knew about it.
Fear had struck him. Hard.
He had never been able to verify the death of the Champion. He had proof of others, like Reiskin, but never the Champion. Every day, for nearly three hundred years, he had wondered, he had worried. Wondered if Grahamas was still out there, worried that he would one day return. At the beginning of his reign it was a pressing issue, but as the years passed and his power grew while the kingdom flourished, that paranoia became less apparent. Only, it sank back into his own head. Every passing day was one safe from him, one more that he could rule—but it was also one more that day that Grahamas was out there, finalizing whatever preparations he had to rip Idimus from his throne. For three centuries he had hidden and bided his time. Why he had waited this long, Idimus did not know, but he had returned nonetheless, and the King’s already fragile world and frail state of mind began to fall further away.
He hadn’t planned anything since returning to his throne room, only paced like a caged animal as he thought about it—from his seat to his window—half excepting to see an army charging over the hill each time he looked out. But it never came, so Idimus pushed away from it and returned to his throne, letting his paranoia fester before starting the whole process over again. For six hours he tossed about his room, in a maddened, unrelenting pattern from his throne to his widow, then back again. On his last trip, as he returned to his throne, it dawned on him that his situation was about to get much worse.
“Good morning, my Lord.”
Idimus did not have to turn around to know that Valaira stood behind him. He simply slid into his chair while trying desperately to disguise the look on his face—the fear that was raging through his mind. She crossed, coming into his line of sight, a scene that nearly ruptured the panic in him.
“I trust all is well…” she spoke softly, almost compassionately.
Idimus inadvertently broke eye contact with her, instead looking at a dark, random corner and held.
Valaira stepped forward, “Your Highness?” she questioned—a harsh tone creeping in, making it sound more like a demand.
The King was not sure what to say—how to answer her—so he did not. He merely flicked his eyes back and forth until they settled on Graham’s note, his gaze soon followed by Valaira’s. “Something dire my Lord?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
He reached for it, in some futile attempt to dismiss it or tuck it away, but such an act only spurred her curiosity and her hand raised, the note flying from the stand next to Idimus’ throne and whisking into her grip. Her fingers pried it open and she read it slowly; once then twice. “This symbol…is this what I think it is?” Her eyes never left the paper, yet she caught Idimus’ nod. “Where are the prisoners?” she whispered, her tone growing cold though her face maintained its hauntingly gentle nature. Again Idimus would not answer, “King, where are the prisoners?” yet she already knew the answer.
Her teeth gritted as she crumpled the letter in her hand, dropping it to the floor. “I asked you for one thing…” Idimus began to speak, but Valaira waved her hand twice before him and he was, once again, silenced and paralyzed. “A favor—a show of good faith in this partnership… and you have failed me.” Her hand rose to cup his chin, moving his head up, “You are king because I allow you to be king!” Her grip clenched slowly, nails digging into his flesh causing a trail of crimson to slide down her fingers and along her forearm. “I could rip you from this throne with a blink and a wave of my hand.”
She loosened slightly and her eyes relaxed, “But I do not. Because you still serve a purpose. You are a distraction—a shadow. People look at you, rather than see me.” She smiled and released him completely, “However, if you are unable to fulfill your duty, I will simply find another.” And it was true, keeping Idimus as king was far easier than grooming another one—one that may not be as easy to manipulate. “Are we clear?” she waved her hand again so he could speak.
“Yes…” was all Idimus could force his mouth to say. His desire to be king ran so deep that he was willing to be a fake one for the time being, time enough to resolve Valaira. Something that started out as a strange, beneficial engagement—but had the potential of turning into another threat.
“Good, then let us discuss this new…problem. First things first Lord. What happened?”
Idimus still seemed wary to answer.
“It is fine, Lord; I am no longer angry.”
“They escaped…” he finally admitted.
She nodded, “Because of Grahamas?”
Idimus almost snarled at the use of the name aloud, but he was more shocked that Valaira knew it. “You are aware of him?”
Valaira smirked as if he should have known better. “Remember to whom you speak King,” she thought for a moment, “We will worry about Grahamas later. Now, let us worry about those who let them escape.”
She seemed almost unconcerned with Graham. Though this was her usual mentality, it exuded even stronger now, and Idimus could not help but take note of it. “Rhimaldez tried to stop them, as did Kalinies; but both were found unconscious in the front chamber. Kalinies has been dealt with, but Rhimaldez isn’t as respectful of authority. And the guards are loyal only to him. No one among them would allow an execution, and any would free him if I ordered an imprisonment.”
Valaira let a devious smile cross her mouth, “There are other ways to punish, King. Rhimaldez…he has a family, does he not?”
In A Time Of Darkness Page 20