Her eyes rose, drifting up from the small bit of mud she’d created and settled on Ashrak’s head in the distance. Her brother, weak, useless, and only days from being murdered by their other brothers before she’d managed to concoct a wild plan to save him. It was he who had plunged the sword into her fathers heart. How had he gathered the strength? What had happened in Terek to finally give him a backbone and take life seriously?
She recalled how he stood tall and imposing in the Citadel facing down Count Stavix. His eyes glinted like agates, and his jaw was firm as he defied one of the most dangerous men in Brun. Yes, he had the Duke of Terek behind him, but she doubted that was the only reason. The memory of Chari’s soft, warm hand lightly resting on his back came to Ellian. Was it the girl? Could she really be an asset and not just a grasping, power-hungry follower? Maybe.
She had to admit; the girl had spine and fire. Ellian felt a cold smile play across her lips as she imagined holding Chari in her arms but quickly pushed it away. She had her own fire waiting for her in the deep desert and couldn’t wait to get back to her. It had been too risky to escape earlier. Too many lords had too many men out looking for her so she had been forced to seek shelter in the only semi-friendly place she could find.
Now she was stuck here. Her enemies were watching the camp like a hawk, and there was no way she would be able to sneak away. There might be a silver lining to this tragic turn of events, though. Ashrak was different now, and whereas she expected to find a puppet on the end of Valeran’s strings, she didn’t find it. Instead, she found a completely different person, one who was willing to tell her to shut-up. It was another memory that made her smile. Perhaps it would be worth sticking around to see what would happen?
***
Ashrak stepped up next to Duke Valeran and watched the Lords of Brun enter the camp. Most of them didn’t look pleased to be here and were casting their impatient eyes to the large tent at the end of the open area. Each man had been allowed to bring one guard with them and no more. It had raised holy hell with them, but Valeran didn’t budge, and none of the lords were willing to miss watching their old Duke be stabbed to make sure he was dead.
That and get their first look at who was supposedly their new Duke, though few of them expected that to stick. Too many of them had memories of the old Ashrak who used to sit in his rooms with his friends drinking and gambling or where he would cringe away from his father and brothers.
Ashrak couldn’t blame them. He had done everything in his power to stay out of the light and notice of even the lowliest of the lords. It would just make things harder, but he wasn’t about to turn away.
Chari reached out, taking his hand in her small, warm ones and smiled at him in reassurance. The lords had finally gathered, and the High Cleric of the temple was approaching them. His intricate gold and bejeweled robes reflected the firelight as he held an equally ornate dagger before him. It was the tool used to test the old duke’s body, to make sure he was truly dead. Ashrak shuddered to think of what circumstances had risen to necessitate such a test.
“Welcome, supplicants,” The old priest droned, despite coming to their camp. “Word has been brought forth that Duke Zekfran Brun, Great Defender of the Desert and Sea Gates, Lord of Justice and Inheritor of the Golden Bands, has fallen into the dark abyss of death. I am called to verify his passing so that a new Duke can come forth from his line.”
Ashrak stepped forward, facing the Cleric and standing between the official and the tent. It was a calculated move since they had demands before they would allow the Cleric to perform his duty. Most of the gathered Lords murmured angrily at the imposition though they were outnumbered by the Terek soldiers around them and knew they couldn’t force their will here.
“This camp welcomes you, High Cleric,” Ashrak said, watching as the man’s face wrinkled in irritation. Ashrak decided he didn’t care. He was certain that if allowed, the High Cleric would do his duty, and then all of them would leave before anything else could happen. They would try to delay for weeks before acknowledging him as the rightful heir. “The bodies of my father and two brothers lie within, waiting for you to declare their passing but before you do, I ask you to name all those in line for the throne.”
The High Cleric paled, and Ashrak watched as his eyes flitted over to Count Stavix. “That is not the purpose of this gathering,” the Cleric whispered, almost stuttering in his fear as drops of sweat began forming on his forehead.
“State the names, or leave,” Ashrak said, unyielding. He wasn’t about to budge. Many of the lords were angry, calling out imprecations and curses for Ashrak to step aside. At a nod from Duke Valeran, the Terek soldiers thumped their shields. Many of the Brunish Lords jumped, turning as if expecting an attack that did not come. Ashrak just stared at the High Cleric, watching the man as his eyes darted around wildly. Finally, they settled on Count Stavix again who, strangely, was calm and simply nodded to the High Cleric.
The Cleric nodded back, ever so slightly before his eyes shifted toward Ashrak. “Very well, Lord Ashrak; the names currently on the rolls in line for succession are Lord Rekmar Brun and,” the Cleric paused, taking a deep breath before speaking the next name.
“We all know it’s you, Ashrak, not that an assassin's blade won’t take you before the month is out,” Spoke a loud, crooked-nosed man from the side. He was in richly decorated armor, and a visored, sharply-pointed helmet sat on his head. The visor was raised, framing his warriors face as he pushed his way to the front, almost snarling the words into the night air.
“Is that a threat, General Rhendu?” growled Duke Valeran, stepping forward with his hand on his sword.
“Threat? Bah,” the big man laughed into the night air, seeming uncaring of the Duke’s sword or his soldiers. “I wouldn’t waste my breath on a threat. I’d just storm your camp and kill you all if I cared.” Many of the Brunish lords shifted uneasily at that, looking out into the night air around the camp to see if exactly that thing wasn’t happening, but there was no one. “No, it will pass quickly, and when it does, there will be none left of the line. Brun will go to the strong as it should be, not this mealy-mouthed youth. I don’t have to lift a finger.”
“You speak as if you have a chance at that, Paven,” Count Stavix responded, glancing at the loud General out of the corner of his eye and smirking. “You really should go back to marching around in the sand, General. It suits you far better. It will be safer as well. I don’t think you have as many loyal men as you think you do.”
The General growled and started to march across the sand towards the smirking Count, but Duke Valeran moved forward with his sword drawn, matching the angry General’s glare. “Enough, General,” Valeran said in a low voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now how sharp our swords are. Go back to your place amongst the other Lords.”
The General didn’t move, narrowing his eyes at the Duke. For a moment, he looked like he was about to lunge anyway until Count Stavix spoke once again. “Maybe he’s trying to disrupt the ceremony? Perhaps he’s afraid of what will happen when young Lord Ashrak becomes Duke. It’s a shame, really. All those soldiers and the thoughts of a boy frighten him. How amusing.”
Several of the lords around the clearing tittered and laughed, murmuring low under their breaths and causing the General to clench his fists. In the end, he only looked over at Ashrak and spat into the sand before turning and stalking back to the place he had occupied.
Ashrak waited, watching the armored man settle. The general was known to be volatile as well as powerful. He’d been sparring with Count Stavix for decades, and as long as Ashrak could remember, they had been at each other’s throats. They had only stayed in line by the sheer brutality of his father, but now they were an uncontrolled threat. Ashrak paused, wondering why Count Stavix had helped them. Something was wrong.
“Please, name the final name on your list, High Cleric,” Count Stavix said, his voice oozing out like a pool of oil. It slithered through the night air with far too
much anticipation. Ashrak glanced at Chari before turning back to the Cleric, encouraging him to speak.
For his part, the Cleric was equally as surprised, blinking a few times at the Count before turning back to Ashrak and staring at him for a moment. It was clear the man had expected something else. “Ashrak Brun,” said the man, sounding as if he were choking on sand. “Ashrak Brun is the second and final name in line for succession.”
There was a palpable silence in the air as all of the lords went quiet. They had all expected a disruption, maybe even a killing to happen tonight. They had not anticipated that Ashrak would be named. They all knew who lay dead in the tent, and that it left Ashrak as the final heir.
Duke Valeran nodded, allowing the large swaths of canvas to be drawn back from one full side of the tent and reveal the three bodies set on tables. Each man was draped in fine, beautiful clothing as befitted their station. The Duke’s robes a step above that of his two sons that lay next to him. Ashrak stepped out of the way, allowing the High Cleric to proceed on his walk to the three corpses.
When he arrived, he called for the seven pre-selected nobles to come forward and view the bodies. Each was carrying three white and three black stripes of clothing to signify their identification of the bodies. White, in every case, was laid across the chest of each corpse and once all twenty-one stripes had been placed, the Cleric approached. Mumbling under his breath, he plunged the dagger three times through the white piles, confirming that they were indeed deceased.
“It is done,” Confirmed the Cleric, turning and speaking to the crowd. “Duke Zekfran Brun, Lord Rekmar Brun, and Lord Belor Brun are deceased.”
There was a collective sigh from the gathered nobles, and most of them turned to look at Ashrak. Many eyes were angry while some held other emotions. Only a few remained neutral and without judgment. Ashrak did not pause as he stepped back into the Cleric’s path, blocking his way from leaving.
“And now it is time to name the last remaining heir, High Cleric,” Ashrak said grimly. Some of the lords had turned to leave, hoping to avoid witnessing this but lines of armored soldiers had blocked their way. They rushed forward, pushing against the shields desperately and raised their voices, hoping to block out the coming words they did not want to hear.
“I…,” The Cleric began, his eyes darting around looking for some escape but there was none. Ashrak, Chari, Valeran and several soldiers blocked his way, eyes intent on the man and giving him no choice but to do his duty. The Cleric opened his mouth and was just about to speak when the raised, angry voices suddenly went quiet. Even as he stared into the Cleric’s eyes, Ashrak watched them go wide, making him spin to see what was happening.
There, standing in the center of the open circle was Count Stavix. Several other lords had joined him, and the Steward of the Citadel was holding up a tall pole. Atop it, there were two golden rings crossing each other half way.
Ashrak gasped, his eyes going wide as he stared in anger.
“What is it?” Chari said, standing beside him and gripping his hand now.
“A challenge,” Ashrak said in a whisper. He turned to Chari, despair and anger warring in his eyes. “It’s called The Trial of the Golden Bands.”
“Why are you afraid!” Chari asked, gripping his hand tighter and looking up at him.
“It is an open contest. Any Lord may search for it, and whichever Seeker returns with the Golden Bands becomes the new Duke.” He paused and then took a deep breath. “And the rest are killed.”
Chapter 8
“What in the seven hells is this Chocolate Round thingy?” Valeran growled, slamming his hand on the table. “I swear, people make up words around me on purpose?”
“It’s called the Occulate Raun, Your Grace,” Lord Mendor said patiently. “If I remember correctly, the trial has not been performed in over five hundred years. It could be longer. I would have to find the relevant tomes in the Brunish library. I think that is where I remember reading about it.”
Valeran didn’t answer as he glared at Lord Mendor, though they all knew it was just him being angry at the situation, not the ambassador. “Well, whatever it’s called, it’s now a problem as if we needed more of them.” Valeran put his hands on his temples and closed his eyes, rubbing them gently. “Okay, Occulate Raun. So what does that mean for making Ashrak the new Duke? Does it just throw it out the window as a free-for-all? Should I just have the Skywitch blast anyone making a run for the desert?”
Lord Mendor shook his head as he looked over to Ashrak and Ellian. “I honestly don’t know. The books I have read didn’t speak too much about the trials. Do either of you know anything about it? Or you, Nilesh?”
The small man shook his head while Ashrak and Ellian both looked at each other. Finally, Ashrak spoke. “Not everything, I am sure, but we do know some of it and the tales told about it.” Ashrak paused and then took a breath before continuing. “The stories say that the Golden Bands are given to the rulers of Brun as a symbol of their power. More than that, they were a way to communicate with the ancestors and for the Duke to gain acceptance by those same ancestors, or so they say.”
“So what, we have to go digging around in some old ruins or broken pottery to find them?” Valeran asked, askance.
“No,” Ellian said, speaking as if expecting to be ignored, and already half-mad at the expected slight. Her angry clipped tones came out at first, but when everyone just listened, they began to fade. “The stories describe great difficulty in searching for the Bands. Finding the entrance to the hall of trials is the first problem. No one ever knows which ruin in which it might be found. Then the seekers always have to solve or survive terrible tests and guardians, whatever those might be. It’s never the same.”
“So how many people can go looking for these things?” Valeran asked as he quirked an eyebrow at both of the Brunish nobles. “What’s to stop the entire city of Brun from just trekking off into the desert, finding these bands, and then becoming Duke?”
Ashrak and Ellian exchanged looks before Ashrak answered. “Well, the same thing that stopped most of my brothers and sisters from breathing. Brunish nobility thinks nothing of killing to get ahead. It’s why they are all so cruel and angry because assassination is our very favorite game. Anyone who becomes a seeker agrees that any of the other seekers or their representatives has the right to try to kill them, and vice versa. It’s terribly barbaric, but it prevents most people from being remotely interested in trying. Also, if someone does return with the Bands, then all of the other seekers and their companions are automatically put to death.”
Duke Valeran, Chari, and Nilesh looked unsettled, and while Lord Mendor didn’t grimace, he did look very disapproving. “You mean that if Duke Valeran became one of your companions and you didn’t return with the bands, he could be put to death?”
Ashrak nodded slowly and met the Duke's eyes. “Yes. That is why he cannot be one of my companions. It’s too great of a risk. I don’t even have a clue where even to begin looking, and if I fail, then it would mean the next Duke would have to be at war with Terek until someone managed to kill Valeran.”
Duke Valeran looked as if he were about to say something and stopped when he saw the look on Lord Mendor’s face. “Okay, yes, you are right. I cannot, but I am fairly certain we wouldn’t have to worry about Brun being at war with us. Ahnarad would kill me well before anyone here in Brun would get the chance.” He sighed softly before looking intently at Ashrak. “So that’s it, then. We’ll pack you and your sister out of here and leave them to their own devices. There’s no way I’m letting these power hungry bastards kill you Ashrak.”
He could feel everyone around him shift, assuming that would be the plan. Nilesh, Lord Mendor, and Valeran began discussing the next steps, and his sister looked sour and angry, staring down at the sand at their feet. He could feel Chari’s intense gaze settle on him, and he looked at her, reading her thoughts in her eyes. She was such an optimist, and her determined compassion came out thr
ough her eyes and buried itself like an assassin’s dagger in his soul, but it was not an attack that he tried to fend off.
No, he shared her drive. The Rulers of Brun had defiled their people for thousands of years. There had been half-way decent rulers in the past, but all of them had abused the people in one form or another. There were few of the other races in this dry land, and he couldn’t blame any of them for having fled. His father had been terrible though certainly not the worst of the lot.
Whoever became the next Duke would either continue that sorry tradition, or have the power to change it, and Ashrak was determined to be the one.
“No,” He said softly. At first, only his sister and Chari heard him. Chari grinned, but Ellian looked up at him incredulously. Then the words registered on the others and they slowly went quiet.
“What?” Duke Valeran answered. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no, I am not going to run away,” Ashrak said, determination hardening his voice. “I am going to become a seeker and find the Golden Bands, or die trying.”
“You idiot!” Ellian snarled, jumping to her feet. “What do you mean you’re going to try to find it? They will kill you before you even get a hundred meters from this camp!”
The Glimmer Steel Saga, Boxed Set, Books 1 - 4 Page 94