“Then we must give them suitable weapons,” cried young Fresco, who really had no conception of what he was about to do, and he reached out beyond the stars.
Trusco cried out, “No! We must not! For they do not have the maturity or the wisdom to use those weapons. They will destroy the world with them, themselves, and we will have prevented nothing!”
But it was too late, and from beyond the stars, Fresco threw down the great Stones of Power, which burned through the heavens with trails of fire behind them, carrying the secrets of the gods, and they smoldered as they struck the world.
The older, wiser gods moaned as they saw their new children rush up to the great Power Stones which had fallen, one in each world, and seek to carry them away.
“Quickly Trusco!” Tarn exclaimed. “Lift them up and send them back to the heavens!”
“I cannot,” he said sorrowfully. “For they have been disturbed and will never again balance in the skies. They are bound to this new world now, and will be its greatest strength. Or its greatest curse. But I will hide them. Hide them until these newborn children gain the wisdom to use them.”
And he picked them up, the six Stones of Power, and scattered them among the six countries, and some he hid deeply beneath the soil, and others he thrust into the hearts of the mountains, and some he cast into the depths of the deep lakes which had pooled in the flatlands where the flowing streams came to rest. And the most powerful of the stones, he hid deep within his own creation of Trusca, to be guarded by the Truscan warriors he had created in his own image, who were charged with the primary responsibility for seeing that this world lived to attain the wisdom for their use.
And that was the beginning and the end of the first day, when the world was born from the swirling mist, and the people of all her countries were created.
Chapter Twelve
As Dalph finished speaking, he shifted my weight to a more comfortable position on his thighs, and adjusted his arms around me. At some point in this discourse of the mythology of Trusca, his arms had tightened, pulling me up into his lap, but there had been nothing sexual in it; rather, it was a physical closeness paralleling the emotional closeness that had caught us both up as he relayed the legend of the beginnings of his world.
“And so it began,” he said simply.
How many times, and on how many worlds, had this legend been born? Of the gods and goddesses who created life in their own image but could not keep out their own faults, who left their children hanging in problems not of their own choosing or creation... And how tailor-made was this myth for this world! I tried to think back to what now seemed a lifetime ago, to five nights before when Johnny had given me the barest outline of this world.
“In the last twenty years, the Prians have taken over Andovia, Motravia, Frescia, and Tarn,” he’d said. “Trusca’s all that’s left. And Dalph says they can’t have it.”
What else had he said? That this world ran on magic, on portents and talismans, and Power Stones? Power Stones! The six Stones of Power, one hidden in each country, and the most powerful stone… No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
“Dalph, please tell me the Prians aren’t looking for the Power Stones.”
“I can’t tell you that. They are.”
“But it’s a legend! A myth! Surely you know that?!”
He laughed and kissed my hair, a gesture I was surprised to discover I didn’t find disturbing at all. Sitting on this handsome man’s lap, by this bubbling stream, hearing the legends of his boyhood, now this was a courtship. It really was.
“And your world began in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. Which collides with modern science that decreed that somehow, at some point, some unknown source of energy collided with the right combination of gasses and created life. What does Johnny call it? The Big Bang Theory?”
I nodded.
“But don’t you see? To me either version of life on Earth makes no more and no less sense then Trusco and Tarn creating my world and Fresco throwing down the Stones of Power. It merely changes words. One story’s not more fantastic to me than the other. They’re all words. Just words.”
And to me as well, I acknowledged. Though if I had a scientific background I’m sure I would have argued the point.
But I didn’t, and when you got right down to it, what were the modern scientific explanations for life and the existence of life but old mythology couched in modern terms?
I pondered upon what Dalph had said.
“And Johnny said that in the last twenty years, the Prians have taken all the countries of this world except for Trusca.”
“Yes.”
“Looking for the Power Stones?”
“Yes.”
“What are they?”
“The Power Stones?”
“Yes, the Power Stones. What are they, what do they do, what will they do? If they are all finally brought together?”
“As to what they are, no one exactly knows. Except that they hold great magic, and that whoever controls one of the stones controls a great power. The powers of darkness and light, of the wind, of rain, thunder and lightning. Some say they open the door between the worlds—”
He broke off.
“Since I don’t believe in Power Stones and portents and talismans, you don’t need to worry about me going off in a one-woman crusade to find them and try to go home,” I said.
He laughed uncomfortably. “It would be a short-lived crusade, Green Eyes. And no one knows exactly how or if they work. If they exist at all, as you so aptly pointed out.”
“But the Prians claim to have five?”
He nodded.
“And they want the sixth, and that one is the most powerful, and it’s here, in Trusca?”
“So the legends say.”
“What do you say? You as King of the Truscans created in Trusco’s own image, to lead the fight and hold the greatest of the stones? If such a stone exists, don’t you know where it is?”
“Not—exactly.”
“Not exactly. Not very far-sighted on Trusco’s part, now is it? What do you know?”
Turn-about was fair play. I’d lamented my apparent inability to keep my naked thoughts hidden from Dalph’s lightest gaze. Well, what do you know? One look at his face and I realized I had the same advantage over him. That should have told me something, even one day into marriage, I suppose.
“You—have—no—idea!” I exclaimed slowly. “Do you?”
“My mother always said that legends and myths usually had a beginning kernel of truth somewhere, if you could just trace it back far enough. I’m certain there’s a reason for the legends. I’m certain there’s a source of power that gave birth to the legend.”
“But you don’t know what or where that power source is?”
I didn’t think he was going to capitulate, but he did, and very gracefully, too.
“I don’t have a clue in hell. I don’t know if any of the kings ever did, however far back, but I do know when it was supposedly lost. And that involves the House of Canor and Baka.”
“Well, it’s about time! What’s the deal with him, anyway?”
“Many years ago, or so goes the legend, during one of Trusca’s darkest times, the King was killed in battle, leaving as his heir a child only three years of age. There was no strong Queen Mother, my mother’s unique in Truscan history, and had it been her king to fall, you’d better believe no one would have laid a hand on my brothers or myself and lived to tell about it. Just as I strongly suspect that no one would lay a hand on a child of yours, were I to fall. But this child, he came into the possession of the House of Canor. Canton of Canor was, in fact, the child’s uncle, his mother’s brother, and the leader of the Canor clan, and he took it upon himself to assume authority. Remind you of anything possibly?”
“The little princes in the tower!” I said immediately. “The Wars of the Roses, the York and Lancaster Kings of England.”
“Exactly. I didn’t know if history was an i
nterest of yours, but that makes it easier to explain. Not an uncommon situation. Canton didn’t stop to think that taking the little king didn’t give him the location of the Power Stone, which by legend, is only revealed to the ruling king. He was dead, and as such, not talking. Canton was furious, so furious he almost destroyed Trusca forever, invading Tarn and Frescia and Motravia, searching for the other lost Power Stones. The name of Trusca was cursed by the inhabitants of the entire world, and the Tarnians and the Frescians and the Motravians hated the Truscans almost as much as they hated the Prians.”
“But the Truscans never ate anybody, did they?” I interjected.
Dalph laughed. “No, at least they never ate anyone. And when the young king, Brentar the Strong, as a matter of fact, was thirteen, knowing that he had reached the age where he was about to become a dead and not just a deposed king, he ran away in the dark of the night and began his fight. You, too, have such a hero in your world’s legends. My mother likened him to Robin Hood. He took the country back over the years, by stealth and cunning, mostly, and on occasion, absolute ruthlessness. The people loved him. He was the savior of Trusca.”
I pictured Kevin Costner as Robin of Locksley proclaiming, “By God, we take it back!” And I looked at Dalph, direct descendant of men who had performed heroics beyond my wildest imagination.
“And he didn’t completely eliminate the House of Canor when he got the country back?” I asked.
“Canton and his supporters, certainly. But he said Trusca was created to be the Guardian of the world, that she must be so again, and that Guardians did not slaughter children. That is true. And you can’t completely eliminate an entire bloodline, it’s not practical or even possible, I think.”
“So ever since—”
“Ever since the Canor clan considers the throne is rightfully theirs and while they’re smart enough not to make an overt move, they’re not averse to subterfuge.”
“In other words, they’re sneaky about it.”
Dalph smiled. “Quite. And Brentar’s foresight when he returned to the throne has kept the country safe since. You see, only he knew that the secret of the stone was lost. So he created legend over legend. That the stone called him in his time of need, that it came back to him, that it restored his throne. And that’s what keeps Trusca safe, to this day.”
I frowned. “I don’t under—oh, yeah, I do. I do understand. Everyone, including the Prians, think you can lay hands on it at a moment’s notice, because Brentar claimed to have used it. Right?”
“Yes. Except Johnny. And now you. I can’t believe you could just look at me and—”
“Yeah, well, now you know how I feel. I used to be a legend in my little sphere for never showing what I think and you’ve just run all over me in the last twenty-four hours!”
“You’ve been somewhat out of your element.”
I laughed. “You think?” I continued to analyze this amazing situation. “You’re holding this country with a bluff! A bluff made out of chewing gum and spit!”
“Yes, I am, and I’m amazed at how good it feels for someone else to actually know that.”
“I’m going to assume that you’re continually looking for it, though?”
“I keep my eyes open when we’re out, but just finding anything out of thin air? No, I don’t have much hope. And I’ve searched all the old manuscripts, all the old scrolls and writings, pored over the old legends, over and over, and so did my father, and his father before him. And though I’m sure no other queen was ever privy to the secret, my mother did, too, but she always said she wasn’t Truscan enough to find anything, and that she would likely miss a reference a Truscan would catch.”
“And your son?”
“At the moment, he’s serene in the knowledge that his father knows everything. Well, at least about the Power Stone. And therefore, he knows that Pria will never cross the borders and Trusca will never fall. It’s a wonderful feeling. I know. I had it till I was sixteen and my parents sat down and told me the truth. And now, enough of this talk. Are you hungry? My saddlebags are packed with meat and fruit.”
Time to change the subject. I wondered if he already regretted how much he’d told me and vowed that no actions on my part would ever make him sorry for trusting me, at least with that state secret.
He spread a blanket, and we consumed the delicious bread that came from the Rata’s kitchens, packed with thick slices of the well-roasted meat. Then we packed up and headed out, Dalph taking the lead. I followed and watched his shoulders. I marveled that they were straight and not bowed to the ground with the weight of holding a country by bluff and blag alone.
The rest of the day passed pleasantly as we rode through the forests, circling around Trussa, walking the horses, and occasionally breaking into a gallop. It was getting on toward late afternoon, by the sun, when we pulled back out of the woods and I was surprised to see that Trussa lay in the distance, to our left. He had taken me in a meandering circle through the forests which bordered the city, and we had come out on the opposite side of the gates from whence we started.
“I don’t want to go back to reality just yet,” he said. “Can we have supper in our chambers? I don’t have days like this very often, when Trusca’s not heavy on my shoulders. I don’t want to sit in the Great Hall, surrounded by people. Today, I’ve been just Dalph. And tomorrow I have to be King again.”
I smiled. And what a King. What would this man, born into one of the power families of my world, have accomplished?
“And tomorrow, I’ll start work on the queen thing. I want to meet your son. And I want to start using Truscan as much as possible.”
“But remember—”
“Don’t let anybody else hear me as I learn. I hope you have a lot of patience. You and Johnny are obviously stuck with this, and languages have never been my strongest suit.”
“Patience has never been mine, but I think it might have its own rewards,” he replied with a slight smile. “Today’s been one of the best days I remember having in so long, since my family died. I love Dal and Johnny and Kiera, but this—I’d forgotten.”
He pulled Pegasus up as we approached the gates. The guards were a little lax; it took them more than the usual split second to begin to haul the gates up.
“You’re not so bad yourself when you’re not being an overbearing ass,” I conceded, bringing Andromeda to a stop beside the falton stallion.
He leaned toward me, and as the gates began to lift, the guards were treated to the sight of the Truscan royal couple as the king’s lips grazed the queen’s. He pulled back and smiled, and we entered the walls. I was almost sorry for the interruption. He really wasn’t bad at all. When he wasn’t being an overbearing ass.
He was obviously sincere in his intentions to give us a new start, to give me time to trust him. I half-way expected him to enter the royal bed chambers as I bathed the dust of the day’s ride away, but he didn’t come in until I was clean and dried and wrapped in my soft robe. He had obviously bathed elsewhere, as he was also clean and dried, and dressed casually in a clean tunic and leggings without the trappings of wolf fur. He smelled deliciously of some scent that was very familiar to me, which I finally pegged as similar to patouchli oil.
Saraya and her sister serving girls followed closely on his heels, spreading supper before us, and I ate somewhat mechanically, tired from the unaccustomed physical activity of the day-long ride. But it was a pleasant languor that left me soft and relaxed, and ready for sleep, unlike the stressful exhaustion of the Board Room which had required several hours of wind-down time.
I finished, or at least I stopped eating before he did, and leaned back in my chair, and although Dalph was speaking, I didn’t follow very closely.
“...of the western guards,” I caught, and realized that I hadn’t heard the first part of his sentence.
I brought myself up with a jerk.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
He laughed and, rising, came to my cha
ir, bending over and picking me up as easily as he would a child.
“That I’m boring you,” he said, walking toward the bed.
“No, that’s not—”
He laughed again. “You’re not used to riding all day, Green Eyes. We have to build up your stamina.” He laid me on the bed and pulled the covers over me.
“Good night, my Queen.” His lips brushed my hair as he said something in Truscan that I didn’t catch.
I smiled as I settled back into sleep. “And you, my King.” But I didn’t know if I actually said it or just thought it.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, three things filtered into my brain as I awakened, any one of which could have woken me, but I was uncertain as to which actually did. The first thing was that Dalph was not beside me, and I spared a small grimace at the thought. Surely, I wasn’t becoming so accustomed to his presence that his absence was the first thing I noticed? The next thing was that it was fairly late in the morning, and the red Truscan sunlight was streaming in the window and hitting me squarely in the eyes. And the last thing was that Kiera was bustling around the room, laying out my breakfast and pulling back window coverings.
I sat up abruptly.
“Why’d you let me sleep so late?” I asked and threw back the covers. “And where have you been, anyway? I didn’t see you at all yesterday.”
“There was much to do after the wedding,” she said as she sped around, straightening this and straightening that. “Such a happy night for Trusca! There is nothing a Truscan loves more than a party and what is a party without a mess? And then Dalph, he sweeps you out and away from the Rata! He has waited long to be happy, no one could fault him for wanting one day alone with his chosen one. You must eat. My McKay will be here soon. I believe he wants to take you to meet Dal.”
“Johnny? Not Dalph?” It was Dalph’s son; surely he intended to perform the introductions?
“Dalph has much to tend to.”
Miami Days and Truscan (K)nights Page 9