Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  “It’s all that’s left to be done,” said Lord Rowvan.

  “Not before I find my companions. Krom, Rasbus and Grüny are held captive. I want them free before anything else. And I want Dr. Beezin sent for. Just in case…”

  His voice trailed off. Fear gripped him. Fear that if he gave voice to his one spark of hope—hope that Endrick had not been killed—it would only bring despair.

  They found his companions locked in Morvath’s chamber, unguarded and still shackled. Both Rasbus and Grüny stared at him as if they were seeing a ghost.

  “You can’t be alive!” said Rasbus. “We saw you plunge right into that explosion. No one could have survived it.”

  Skylar did not answer. He did not have an explanation for what happened—not one he understood. He looked at Krom for help.

  “The limbreath,” he said with certainty. “You used it, didn’t you?”

  Skylar nodded.

  “It was well done,” he said, looking on Skylar with approval.

  Rasbus and Grüny still looked confused.

  “Come,” said Skylar, “we must find Endrick.”

  They found Endrick in the castle’s overcrowded infirmary. Nurses and medics rushed to and fro, trying to keep up with the constant influx of wounded soldiers. The sight was pitiful. Everywhere were half-conscious and unconscious bodies, with severed arms and legs, bloodied faces, bandaged heads and torsos. Moans and cries of pain crowded the air.

  Endrick’s eyes were closed, his body pale.

  “Is he...” Skylar did not have the heart to finish the question.

  Dr. Beezin laid a hand on Endrick’s chest and stuck his ear next to Endrick’s mouth. Skylar felt as if his heart would seize up and die before the doctor finished his diagnosis.

  “No, not dead,” replied the doctor. “Very nearly, but not dead. I shall do what I can for him.”

  “You must restore him to health. I could not bear his loss after I’ve lost so many.”

  “All I know to do, my prince, shall be done for him. You have my promise. In the meantime, I suggest you take a bath. You all smell horrendously foul.”

  Skylar smirked, remembering the sewer and the abandoned cloak. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “It is time,” said Krom.

  With a bow of his head and a final glance at Endrick, he turned to leave the infirmary. Though his heart yearned to stay by Endrick’s side, his duty called him on one final mission.

  No one tried to stop them as they burst into the court. Captain Arturo had insisted on bringing a full company of soldiers to escort Skylar and his companions. Tarus’ guards put up a moderate show of defending their king. But it was only a show. Skylar passed through straight to the throne steps without even lifting his sword. Tarus’ men-at-arms simply parted the way for him—not out of fear, but a reverence for him who they deemed more worthy of the throne.

  The courtiers cowered, pressed themselves to the edges of the hall, and stared at Skylar in awed silence.

  Tarus broke the silence.

  “Welcome, Prince Korbyn. My heart rejoices to see you alive and well.”

  Skylar mounted the broad marble steps that led to the high platform where sat the false king on his throne. Slowly, Skylar ascended. Each step echoing profoundly through the silent hall. Each step made Tarus shrink in fear.

  Beside the throne, Morvath stood, his eyes burning with hatred, his mouth gaping in wonder. Skylar laughed within at what he must be thinking.

  Gaining the top of the steps, Skylar approached the throne and halted a sword’s length away.

  “I am alive—no thanks to your chief minister,” said Skylar bitterly.

  “Chief Minister Morvath assures me he did all in his power to bring you safely to Ahlderon.”

  Tarus’ eyes looked weary, like one who has not slept soundly for a long time. No doubt this day had haunted him since he first learned of Skylar’s existence. Indeed, he looked older than he was—aged by the incessant burden of his own guilt. Yet behind it all, Skylar thought he perceived the noble countenance of the man who had won so many hearts, including his own father’s.

  “Your chief minister,” said Skylar, “has done naught but attempt to lure me into his snares—to poison me with lies and half-truths. The blood of hundreds is on your hands and his.”

  With a racing pulse and mounting anger, Skylar raised his sword and leveled it at Tarus.”

  Tarus forced a meager smile and swallowed hard.

  “You cannot kill me,” he said without conviction. “I am king—Lord Protector of Ahlderon.”

  Tarus unexpectedly rose to his feet and stood proudly. Skylar held his ground.

  “I charge you with high treason,” said Skylar. “With plotting and planning the assassination of my father, King Athylian Ducädese, stealing the crown, and laying unjust burdens on the people of the empire. The penalty for your crimes is death—for you and your conspirator. Unless any man here will vouch for you...”

  The false king shrank back and cast his gaze in all directions, his eyes fearful and pleading. Yet none came forward to vouch for him. Skylar squirmed at such a pathetic sight.

  “Cowards!” cried Tarus. “All of you, cowards and liars!”

  Skylar drew closer and put the sword to Tarus’ neck. Sheer terror filled the man’s eyes.

  “This is absurd!” he squawked. “He’s but a boy. Will somebody not stop him? I am your king. Obey me!”

  None replied.

  “Korbyn,” he began to plead, “your father...he was like a brother to me. How can you—”

  “Kill you? Just as you killed him, and my mother—and would have killed me.”

  Skylar pressed the point of his sword into Tarus’ throat. A trickle of scarlet blood ran onto the blade. From Tarus’ lips a low cry escaped. His eyes looked wild, crazed. Skylar held the sword fast.

  “You deserve to die,” he said hoarsely. “Those who are dead at your hands did not. You deserve to die.”

  Slowly, he let down his sword.

  “I will not do it. I have had enough of death. Let the dungeon be your punishment—the only one to comfort you, your poison-tongued chief minister.”

  He turned to Arturo. “See that these two traitors are locked up and guarded well.”

  Arturo motioned to a few of his soldiers, who sprang to carry out the orders. Stunned, Tarus did not speak or resist arrest. Neither did Morvath put up a fight, but merely smiled insidiously at Skylar as he was jerked away. When the two captives were gone, Skylar felt a hand on his shoulder. Krom’s voice spoke gently.

  “It is the end, my prince. It is the end...for now.”

  In that moment, all the strength in Skylar’s body seeped away. He sank to his knees, trembling and sobbing uncontrollably.

  * * *

  True to his word, Skylar brought his mother to live in the castle with him. She agreed to come only after much persuasion, for she had always lived a simple, quiet life. Nevertheless, she came, and all called her queen mother. And she acquitted herself well of that title, treating all with the grace, dignity, and kindness of a true queen. And all loved her.

  Rolander, too, he brought to live with him at Ahlderon. The freckled-faced boy’s somber mood had changed little since losing his arm in the battle on Haladras. But a few weeks of breathing the sweet Ahlderion air; exploring the castle’s endless corridors, secret passages and towers; and especially studying in the royal library helped to improve his disposition.

  Skylar spent most of his time in those first few weeks and months of his reign rebuilding all that Tarus had destroyed, restoring that which was unjustly taken. He removed Tarus’s governors from power and restored the Lordship. The Council of Lords once again convened. By their wise council and approval, Skylar appointed a regent to manage the affairs of state in his stead until he reached the age of eighteen. Skylar chose Krom, who accepted the position reluctantly. He had first asked his grandfather. But the Lord Rowvan of Allega could not be persuaded to leave his peo
ple. Viceroy Aberforce was stripped of his title and office, and Arturo was appointed in his stead.

  Krom’s regency proved a great relief to Skylar. Being so inexperienced, Skylar felt inadequate to bear the full burden of the kingship.

  Skylar sent messengers throughout the empire proclaiming his desire to find any of his father’s former knights. Seven, aside from Krom, were found. Endrick fully recovered from his wounds. For his valorous acts and loyalty to the empire, Endrick was knighted and became First Knight of Ahlderon.

  Skylar restored the Keepers of the Kingdom and charged them to seek out others who might be worthy to join their order, and to ensure justice and peace throughout the kingdom.

  All was as well as it could be in Skylar’s life. Though tiring, he took great joy in serving his people. Yet despite the peace in his kingdom, his mind was often uneasy. It was during an unusually quiet afternoon in the castle, he and Krom had been discussing the financial affairs of the empire, when Skylar cast his eyes out the nearest casement window and grew pensive.

  “Sometimes I wonder why I’m still alive,” he said, still looking out the window. “Why Morvath’s compression bomb didn’t vaporize me. Why my body doesn’t lay splattered on the castle grounds.”

  “You know as well as I that the limbreath saved you,” said Krom.

  Skylar turned to Krom. “Yes, but how? How could it do something like that? Surely the limbreath cannot possess such great power and none know about it.”

  “The power of the limbreath, I believe, is not so much in the thing itself, but in the place it’s linked to.”

  “To Elydar,” whispered Skylar. The recollection of that mysterious planet was still painful to him.

  Krom nodded solemnly.

  “What precisely, happened when you called on the aid of the limbreath, I cannot say. But of this much I feel certain, that had you given less of yourself than you did, the limbreath would not have worked. Willingly, you sacrificed yourself for those you loved and those you led. More than that no man can give. By so doing, Skylar, you unlocked the full power of the limbreath, the power of Elydar, of the Spirit King. For that reason, few there are who know what it can do.”

  Skylar leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. For several minutes neither one spoke.

  “My father knew,” said Skylar, at last. “He knew I would need it. His last gift to me...he might have used it for himself.”

  He rubbed his eyes, fighting back the tears.

  “I owe him a debt of gratitude beyond what I can repay. To both my father and Grim. But such as I can, I will repay them. For both, I will assume the throne when my time comes. For my father, I will discover what became of my sister.

  “I think about her often, you know?” he said, returning his gaze out the casement window. “I wonder what she’s doing. Is she a prisoner in some forsaken dungeon? A commoner, unaware of her noble birthright? Showered with wealth and privilege? Is she even alive?

  “I wish I could answer those questions.”

  “Have you no idea where she might be?”

  “I too believed her dead, Skylar. Your father never spoke of this to me. We found the burnt remains of a child among the ashes with your mother. The size matched your sister’s exactly. I do not know whose remains they were, if not hers. With the Tors involved, any depravity is possible. If they truly kidnapped her, I do not wish to imagine for what purpose.”

  Skylar grew quiet for a few moments, studying Krom’s face.

  “I must try to find out what’s become of her. And I must do it before my eighteenth birthday.”

  “As your regent, I must advise against such a reckless mission. You are needed here.”

  “And as my friend, how would you advise me?”

  The trace of a smile touched Krom’s lips.

  “I only wish I might go with you.”

  There was a sudden loud rap at the portal. The captain of the guards entered, his face flushed.

  “Begging your pardon, your majesty, your excellency—”

  “Yes, what is it?” asked Krom with a hint of impatience. That captain swallowed.

  “I...regret to report...that the prisoner...Morvath has escaped.”

  Don’t miss the exciting sequel to Haladras.

  GORGOROTH

  The Haladras Trilogy • Book II

  COMING SUMMER 2015

  haladras.com/gorgoroth