Kings of Euphoria (Euphoria Duology Book Two)

by Franc Ingram

  "Yeah, that's what our stealth mission needs, a parade of attendants mucking things up," Kasis returned.

  "Not now guys," Lorn scolded. Ordinarily, he would have loved to join in on the friendly jostling the squad had between them. It was that light-hearted bickering that built such a tight group in such a short time. After losing Paxis and Silver in Failsea, Lorn had feared they wouldn't find that rhythm again.

  Today in front of Fabian was not the time. Lorn needed his mind and his team focused. He wished Jonathan had decided to come with them. He could have used the older man's advice. Tycho was more than skilled at negotiating, but he didn't have the insider knowledge that Jonathan had.

  "Relax," Tycho urged, his baritone booming even in a whisper. He looked positively kingly next to Lorn. Tycho's beard was neatly trimmed. His purple tunic a soft cotton material that made his gray eyes sparkle like polished gems. He held his shoulders back, chin high, and his smile politely pleasant.

  Lorn wished he exuded half that same level of confidence. Age sat well on Tycho, giving him an air of dignity and refinement that Lorn couldn't fake with all the fancy words in the world. Lorn wished for a moment that he could trade places. That Tycho could represent the Heirs. He had more experience and Lorn trusted him to make the right decisions. If Paley hadn't found Tycho still in town, the meeting would have been delayed because Lorn wouldn't have faced Fabian alone.

  "You can do this. Don't let him intimidate you. You're king. Don't ever forget that," Tycho reminded.

  Lorn nodded. He swallowed hard, trying to moisten his dry throat. His instinct was to rush forward, greet Fabian as brightly as he could, and hope it would be reciprocated; but Tycho stood his ground and Lorn would follow his lead.

  Fabian and his line of followers stopped four feet in front of Lorn. When Lorn made no move, the Darten leader climbed from his horse, stalking forward in a swirl of armor and weapons. He was a fit man, even with the bulk of the armor clouding his true shape, Lorn could tell from the way the man walked that he was strong and confident.

  He had blond hair that was tucked behind his ears, pale skin that looked like it barely saw the sun, and blue eyes that were too close to Cornelius'. It gave Lorn a chill just thinking about it.

  "Tycho, it's good to see you again. It's been too long," Fabian said, giving Tycho a brief nod of acknowledgment.

  "It's a shame my work hasn't carried me into Darten more often," Tycho said, his tone jovial but his eyes serious.

  Fabian acted as if he didn't hear. Fabian was clearly younger than Tycho. There was no gray in his hair and he still held onto a roundness in his jaw that spoke of youth. Lorn would have guessed he was somewhere closer to the age of Oleana, old enough to have experience, but young enough to still have to worry about arrogance and pride getting in the way of better judgment.

  Fabian stared at Lorn as if by the mere act he could read his mind, or more importantly, bend someone to his will. He acted as a man used to being respected, cowed to, but Lorn was having none of it. If he was to be respected as a king being half the age, if not younger than his predecessors, then he had to stand his ground, make his self-worth known, and prove that he was worthy of the position. He was king not just because of how he was created, but because of who he was.

  "Master of Skies, I presume."

  Lorn nodded, doing all he could to keep from bouncing around in nervous excitement. "Lord Fabian, nice to finally meet you. Jonathan has regaled me with tales of your many exploits."

  "I'm glad he found some usefulness in Evermore, though I must admit to missing his presence in Clariss."

  Lorn smiled and nodded. "I can understand why. After having him as an adviser for such a short time, I couldn't imagine doing without him."

  "Done with the pleasantries?" Fabian asked, making it sound more like an order than a question.

  Lorn resisted the urge to glance Tycho's way. He didn't need a crutch. Fabian laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, his lips pressed tight together and his stance wide, all giving off an air of aggressive impatience. "Your presence here is neither needed nor wanted."

  Lorn swallowed hard. He felt Paley and Tycho tense up on either side of him. Fabian's vehemence surprised them all. Lorn forced a smile, "We are allies with important news."

  Fabian took a big step forward, his hands in the air, "You're a dark cloud that has brought the Ice Ultra to our doorstep."

  Lorn looked to Tycho, "I don't understand." Tycho shrugged looking just as confused.

  "I get word that you're headed to me and not a day later my spies report that Cornelius is bringing an army this way.

  Lorn covered his face with his hands, in shock. "Born was right. Taking her was..."

  Tycho grabbed his shoulder. "You don't know that's why. Doesn't matter anyway. If he comes to us that just saves us a trip."

  "Are you going to explain for the rest of us?" Fabian snapped.

  Lorn cleared his throat, "We learned of Cornelius' plan to sweep through Darten with fresh troops from Arismas. We didn't know he would follow us here."

  "He did, so you need to leave and take the trouble with you."

  "You're not listening," Lorn yelled. "Danger is at your door whether we're here or not. We need to work together to crush our mutual enemy and keep our people safe." Lorn emphasized 'our' to drive the point home."

  Fabian looked around, seeming to finally notice the crowd he had drawn with his dramatic entrance. "We shouldn't be discussing such sensitive matters in public."

  Lorn remembered the mayor's generous offer of breakfast. He smiled at the townspeople around them hoping to cut through the tension. "Your journey must have been long, and it's early. Why don't we eat and settle these things like gentlemen?" Lorn waved forward Saladen, who had been content to hover at the back of the crowd. "Mayor Saladen would you be so kind as to lead the way to that wonderful meal you have planned for us?"

  Saladen tried a smile, but it didn't quite take, turning out to be a weak grimace. "Yes, umm," his eyes darted back and forth between Fabian and Lorn. "Sire. As you wish."

  Lorn motioned for Fabian to go first. Then Lorn's stomach decided to make itself known, giving off an embarrassing low rumble and ruining his moment. Fabian rolled his eyes but started after Saladen anyway.

  Tycho gave him a pat on the back as he walked past.

  "Good start," Paley said, as she hung back with Lorn watching the others parade past. "Now let's see if that fast tongue of yours can seal the deal."

  "That's Sire Fast Tongue to you," Lorn said, adopting the friendly scolding tone Tycho often used.

  "As you wish, Sire."

  01100110

  Fabian inhaled sharply before speaking. He crossed his muscled arms over his chest. "Cornelius is Arismas' problem. Why should I risk my people in your war?"

  "If the forces at Mount Elmire are let loose on this world, we’ll all suffer," Lorn started. "I've fought alongside your people against Ivar..."

  "You mean your loss at Caledonia?"

  Lorn held himself still, trying not to react to the verbal slap in the face. Instead, he nodded. "Yes, we lost and learned from it. I learned that Ivar and Cornelius working together make a strong force but not one without its flaws. I also learned that their greed won't be sated until all of us are in the ground. If we don't work together then we fall alone." Lorn leaned close to Fabian's ears to make sure only the two of them heard what he was saying. "The Heirs of Eternity aren't enemies you can afford to have. I'm not a bridge you can afford to burn."

  "If you want my troops you must accept my command," Fabian said sitting rigidly in his chair, sword at his hip scraping the ground. There seemed to be no give to the man. Even in the naturally relaxing atmosphere of Hashdid's town hall set up for a banquet, Fabian was as unyielding as stone.

  Lorn sipped on the fruit juice that came with the hastily put together, but still impressive, breakfast spread laid before them. The town of Hashdid knew how to feed guests. "Did you not agree to ally yourself
with the Heirs of Eternity? Did you not understand that that meant submitting to our rule?" Lorn replied shocked by the argumentative arrogance of the man in front of him.

  Fabian graced Lorn with a disapproving look, made all the more striking by the sparkle the flickering candlelight gave his eyes. "This is still my realm and you Heirs have lost more territory, and caused more violence than you've stopped. Forgive me if I hesitate to just hand over control of my troops when you show up. I've been protecting Darten’s borders for years, so I think my experience trumps your..." Fabian waved his hands in the air, "...mystical powers."

  Paley was right. Fabian wanted to fight and nothing Lorn could say was going to calm that. "Give me a moment to confer with my colleagues," Lorn said. Fabian threw up his hands in a flippant gesture. He turned his attention to his food which had mostly been ignored.

  Lorn got the idea that it was up to him to leave the table if he wanted any privacy, so he pushed his chair back with a loud screech, and stood. He motioned for Paley and Tycho to do the same.

  Once they were out of earshot Lorn asked, "What do you think?"

  "We came here to end the threat Cornelius presents, who cares who gives the commands as long as stuff gets done," Paley suggested. "You can hash out the rest later."

  "But if we give in now then Fabian will think he's won. Gaining control again will mean a fight. Do you really want to make another enemy here?" Tycho added.

  Lorn frowned, his jaw clenched so tight he heard his teeth clack together. "You don't think he would really take it that far, do you?"

  He glanced back at Fabian. The man was hard to read, and as with all good politicians, he knew how to put up a mask to hide his true thoughts. The show of cold defiance that he exuded could have all been a play to throw Lorn off balance or it could have been the real Fabian. Lorn couldn't trust what he saw, but he also knew that infighting would only give Cornelius the advantage.

  His mother hadn't prepared him for this part of being an Heir. Lorn didn't know how to make such a decision when so much was riding on his choice. Playing politics was meant for someone with more subtlety than Lorn. Fabian had a point, he knew the land better. With time running out, Lorn figured it best to crush the enemy he knew was at his back door than worrying about the one that might come later.

  Lorn broke away from his group to stand above Fabian, who seemed to be enjoying his meal. "We'll temporarily default to your command. If I at any time feel that you're putting my people in unnecessary harm, I'll speak up. If I'm ignored, I'll give the command for my people to pull back and we'll leave you to your fate." Lorn paused to let the sincerity of his words sink in. “When we win, you agree to commit your troops to eradicating Cornelius as a threat for good.”

  Fabian's eyes hardened. He stared at Lorn as if trying to cut through him. Lorn didn't flinch, didn't bend under the look. He meant what he said and needed Fabian to understand the seriousness of it. The middle of a war was not the time to have a pissing contest. As Paley suggested, Lorn could swallow his pride long enough to get things done, but he wouldn't be stomped on.

  "Terms accepted," Fabian after a long pause.

  "After all this is over then we can sit down and renegotiate our relationship," Lorn added.

  "Looking forward to it." Fabian smiled to emphasize his words, but Lorn heard and understood the threat behind them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE TWELVE

  The wall was on fire.

  Leith couldn't believe it. When Yael woke him up with the news, part of Leith insisted it was a dream. Stumbling out into the morning air, and nearly choking on the massive wave of ash that crashed in on him made the nightmare all too real.

  The fifteen-foot-high, six-foot-thick layer of protection between Evermore and death was lit up as bright as the sun coming up over the horizon. Terrified screams blanketed the new dawn.

  "Everybody's on fire suppression detail and still the flames are growing. Whatever fuel they used is powerful," Yael yelled.

  Leith shook his head. He opened his mouth but no words came out, instead, tears streamed down his face and his lungs started burning.

  "That wall will be ash in a matter of minutes, but we'll likely suffocate before then." Yael was wracked by a string of coughs emphasizing his point.

  "This is unspeakable," Kameke said coming up behind them.

  "Ivar is determined to kill us all," Oleana added.

  "Why you out?" Leith asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. It was the first time in days that she didn't smell like she'd been soaked in alcohol.

  "Heard the commotion and had to see." Oleana tried to shake him off, but Leith wasn't letting her go.

  "Back to bed, please," Leith insisted.

  "I can help." Oleana was stubborn and there was no pleading in her voice. It was an order. The fierce look in her brown eyes forced Leith to loosen his grip just enough to let her slip through.

  "Stay safe. Let your body heal. Can't lose you," Leith shouted louder than he'd meant. The thought of her getting hurt terrified him more than the flames or the yeti minutes away from ripping him to shreds.

  Oleana froze. She looked at Leith, looked through him. His words echoed in his own ears. He hadn't meant to sound so desperate, so afraid, but when it came to Oleana there was no other way he could be.

  "You're the king. You give the orders." Oleana turned and left, disappearing back inside The Tower.

  "Contain fire. Keep breach small." Leith scratched his head, demanding an answer from his sleep addled brain. "Get 'em on top, drop water down."

  Yael looked skeptical, but Kameke spoke up. "I'll lead the ones atop the wall. You keep the water coming."

  "Yael, prepare for breach," Leith said.

  The three of them took off in different directions at a run. Every warrior he saw on the way he told the plan and told them to pass it along. Once he finally reached the wall, word had spread enough that Arrissa and Wade sought him out.

  "Where do you want us?" Arrissa asked, her once pale face covered in soot and her body caked in sweat, which made her clothes cling to her skin in misshapen bunches. Wade stood hunched over, hands resting on his thighs to prop himself up, chest heaving with every desperate breath.

  Close to the wall, the heat from the flames seared the delicate hairs on his arms, and the smoke was so thick Leith couldn't see more than two feet in front of his nose. He was surprised the wall wasn't in pieces already, but the marshy landscape worked against the flames. The wet vines smoked before they burned.

  "Three water lines up," Leith choked out, pointing up. "Each lead one."

  "Yes, sire," the two scouts said, nodding in unison.

  Leith found his ladder. He made sure a line of people was in order behind him before climbing halfway up. Off the ground, the air was clearer but it felt like the heat of several furnaces was funneled directly at his face. Leith wished he had taken the time to don his armored gloves. Handling the ladder rungs was like touching hot coals.

  After some precarious maneuvering, Leith secured himself to the ladder so his hands could be free. He looked down and saw a woman clad in Caledonian armor several rungs below him. She caught his gaze. She tried to hide it, but there was a touch of fear in her green eyes. Leith couldn't blame her. He was scared too, but Ivar making his way in was unthinkable.

  "Set above," Kameke called down through the black clouds.

  "Water!" Leith yelled.

  He heard the call pass from person to person until the woman under him was reaching down to grab the first bucket. She handed it up to him and he passed it on up. Some half-seen person took it from him and up it went until the hiss of water against the flames could be heard. Something whizzed by on its speedy way to the ground, which Leith guessed was the dropped bucket. He didn't have time to worry about it because the next bucket was being passed up.

  On and on the train went until Leith's lungs felt like they were caked with soot and his arms would fall from their sockets. The intensity of the heat was dying off, bu
t it was slow progress. Then the dreaded words came.

  "Breach!"

  01110010

  Oleana rubbed at the stump that used to be her arm. It still hurt, but more than that, it itched. The Keeper said that was her body trying to heal itself. Being in The Tower was conducive to some extraordinary healing, but it couldn't help her regrow an arm. Oleana didn't know how to adapt.

  They took her dominant hand. Even getting dressed was a chore without it. She hadn't learned to remember that it wasn't there and kept trying to grab things with it. Oleana didn't know how to be herself without her arm. How did she fight and defend herself?

  Leith made it clear he thought she was useless. She couldn't say otherwise. They didn't need her guidance and she couldn't fight. What was the point of sticking around?

  After searching through the kitchen for any hidden bottle of wine or rum (really anything with a decent alcohol percentage) and coming up empty, Oleana stalked through The Tower's halls. With most everyone either squirreled away in some bunker, off on a different mission, or outside fighting the flames that threatened to overtake the city, The Tower was as close to empty as it had been since people started coming in from three of the five realms.

  Oleana didn't like the oppressive silence. The thick walls of The Tower kept the chaos of the battle outside, leaving Oleana in a forced moment of serenity that had her booze-starved brain spinning. With no real purpose or place to go, she just wandered, unhindered, as the few stragglers passed by, focused on their own tasks and not bothering to look her way.

  After living three lifetimes almost constantly on the move, Oleana dreamed of a time when she wouldn't have to worry and could leave all the fighting, training, and running to someone else. Now that she was forced to watch from the sidelines she wanted nothing more than to be back in the action, to have something to do.

  "You're not leaving me like this," she yelled, waving the still tender stump of her arm. The pain that coursed through her blurred her vision. Her acute alcohol withdrawal pounded away at her temples. Her body was still weak and malnourished, making her dizzy.