by Dan Decker
A glance towards the council members showed frowns and confusion on most faces. The man closest to him gave Jorad a dark look. If he wouldn’t have been old and fat, Jorad might have thought the man intended to attack him.
When Jorad looked out at the crowd, his heart almost stopped. He’d known the assembly area was big, he’d just hadn’t considered how big it was until seeing it from this perspective. His back had been to the audience before, and he’d been too distracted to appreciate the size of the meeting area.
He wanted to look for friendly faces in the crowd but decided it was better he did not. He focused instead on the empty podium and forced himself to wait it out.
As the minutes went by and the crowd became restless. Jorad avoided looking around when a stir went through the people, keeping his eyes straight forward instead. He figured Abel had made an appearance and he didn’t want to look like he’d been waiting for the man to show. He wanted to appear aloof as if the presence of his grandfather was not interesting.
Several minutes later Abel came into his vision as he passed by the podium, headed towards the stairs on the far side. Once he was on the raised platform, he approached Jorad with a grim smile. He looked at the chairs as if wanting to tell Jorad to sit.
“You’re late,” Jorad said when Abel sat on the chair directly in front of him.
“You look a fool. Sit beside me, boy.”
Jorad didn’t have a response to that. I know I look a fool, that was the point, wasn’t it? The next time he saw that woman…
He would do nothing. Say nothing. Though it would kill him inside.
The next time I get an invite from Abel, it will likely be something I’m supposed to do, so I’ll look bad if I don’t do it. Jorad looked at the podium when Drake approached and put his hands on the sides.
The large group of people who had entered with the Rahar stood off to the side, in front of the crowd. Jorad could make out Cor among them. Even though he’d known about Cor for weeks, it was still strange to think Adar had a brother. Jorad had an uncle.
When Jorad had first heard of Cor, his heart had taken courage, thinking it would be a good to have another available to make a claim. Now that Jorad had met Abel, he didn’t think that way any longer.
If there’s anything inside the Portal that will stop the Hunwei, it’s up to me to get in there. Nobody else was going to do it. Abel was too busy playing games, and no doubt, by the time Cor was old enough, he would be just as entrenched in Abel’s schemes, knowingly or not.
“We request Jorad Rahid remove himself from the stage,” Drake said, “and present himself before the Council as is the custom of all who make a claim.”
Jorad couldn’t keep the frown from showing on his face as he thought through his options. He could ignore the request, but that could come off as contempt for the Council and their traditions. He considered approaching Drake and standing at his side, but he knew that was a good way to get assassinated in the night by something more efficient than a pack of wild dogs.
No, the more he thought about it, he had one option. He ground his teeth as he stepped forward, intending to do as the man suggested, but then he turned to face his seated grandfather on a whim.
It would not do him any good to claim Abel had sent the woman to guide him onto the stage. Chances were high the woman could disappear and never be seen from again. Abel would claim he had nothing to do with it.
But as long as we’re playing games. Jorad knelt before Abel and bowed his head. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by such an action, but it was evident Abel considered himself a king, why not call it out?
Jorad smiled at Abel’s frown but wiped it away as he turned to leave the podium. Drake gave Jorad a dark look, but it took in Abel as well. Jorad’s actions had the intended effect, best he could tell as he gauged the Council members from the corner of his eye.
Some didn’t like Abel’s assumption of power any more than Jorad, it galled them to see such an overt display. Jorad could have danced down the steps, he tried to look chastened as he went around the front of the platform and walked up the stairs of the smaller platform he’d been on at first.
One of the female generals gave Jorad a sympathetic look, but everybody else’s face had about as much emotion as a pile of rocks. They wouldn’t have been able to see what he’d done to Abel, but word would get to them as well.
As Jorad climbed the stairs, he realized he’d acted rashly. It might have felt good, but it was likely a mistake to pay obeisance to Abel. His actions could have the unfortunate effect of further alienating Abel’s enemies, the very people Jorad desperately needed to turn into allies.
“Now that is done,” Drake said through clenched teeth as he grabbed the podium, his knuckles turning white, “we can proceed with today’s business. The Council has decided upon Jorad’s first trial.”
The crowd had been noisy when Drake had begun, but they were quiet by the time he’d finished. He waited as if expecting further disruptions, a scowl on his face that reminded Jorad very much of the looks he would receive from Erro when he’d seen Jorad with Soret.
Drake was jealous of Abel’s power, Jorad could see it as plain as day.
Maybe my little move wasn’t so ill advised, after all, Jorad thought. I’m never going to bring Drake to my side but if I put another wedge between him and Abel, so much the better.
“The princess of Karchack has been kidnapped.” Drake paused as he looked at Jorad. Rescue a princess? That wasn’t as bad as Jorad had feared. Drake’s scowl showed the hint of a smile as if reading Jorad’s thoughts. “The Council believes Vatan is behind the kidnapping. Your trial is to rescue the princess and return her to Karchack while averting war between the two cities.”
Jorad’s mouth popped open of its own accord, he quickly shut it again, hoping nobody had noticed the slip.
Avert war?
Drake’s smile was big, even though he was still irritated, he was enjoying the moment. “We just got word last night. Karchack has marched on Vatan and taken siege of the city.” He leaned forward and stared at Jorad with murderous eyes. “They are demanding Vatan return their princess or they will raze the city and put everybody to death. They’ve given Vatan two weeks. And let me assure you, it is likely to happen.” His grin became evil. “It will take you at least a week to get there, so you had better hurry.”
Chapter 23
The crowd was gone. Abel, Drake, and the rest of the Rarbon Council had disappeared while Jorad thought through the ramifications of his assigned task. As they had left, several of the generals had looked like they might want to say something to him, but he’d avoided making eye contact with everybody except for Molach. The man had given Jorad a small frown before disappearing with all the others.
They either don’t believe the Hunwei are coming or don’t care. He couldn’t decide which. How had showing the Hunwei head gone so wrong? The only person who appeared convinced had been Abel, and Jorad knew better than to think it had worked on him.
When Jorad thought of the satisfied smile on Drake’s face, he wished the man were nearby. Regardless of whatever other skills the man might have, Jorad doubted Abel would win in a duel.
He slammed his fist into his hand, not caring if there was still anybody to see it. He’d known it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d never considered that there would be those who would stand in his way. It wasn’t that his assignment was hard, that wasn’t what bothered him. They were trying to get rid of him while setting him up to fail. Sending him to end a siege that was already underway? It was likely to be over before he arrived.
What a fool he was to have assumed that showing a Hunwei head would be enough to make the Rarbon Council understand the urgency of their situation.
It rankled Jorad that Abel had kept Xarda, Karn, Tere, Tarner, and Leron from testifying by sidling up with Jorad and appearing to support him. The fact his estranged grandfather had spoken for him was not enough. Perhaps everybody thought Jorad
mad, nobody else had testified about the Hunwei.
The Hunwei could take the city in the next two weeks while he was gone. How could he help if he were sent away?
No wonder Abel had looked so victorious as he’d left.
And if he knew my own lieutenant generals were plotting my death, he’d happily pay to arrange an accident from which I’d never return.
Jorad let out a long breath, still wanting to give his grandfather the benefit of the doubt but knowing that the longer he did, the more he put at risk. And all because of what? A vain hope that Abel wasn’t as bad as Adar thought?
He laughed bitterly to himself.
Jorad couldn’t say what he’d been expecting when he’d been summoned, but a part of him had assumed the trial would have been something to do here in the city. Given their predicament, it was the most logical thing to do.
But it all comes back to that, doesn’t it? They don’t believe me. Even if they did, he still thought the Council would be trying to trip him up.
Why should I care if they don’t? The question disappeared as quick as it came. Abel, Drake, and the rest of the Rarbon Council could all burn in the lowest level of the fires for all Jorad cared. I’m not doing this for them. This is for all those who cannot protect themselves. This is my duty.
If what Drake had said was true and it would take him a week to travel that far, he couldn’t afford the lost time. Perhaps if he rode his horse into the ground, sold it, bought another, and then did that for several days, he could make it there in record time. But what then? He would need help.
He still considered the notion for several moments more before discarding it. He must take others with him, that was the whole reason why he’d been given command of an army before the assignment of the tasks. For a man to become Ghar, he needed to prove his capability to lead men while solving large scale problems.
For a moment, he had the crazy thought of sneaking into the Palace and trying to find his way into the Rarbon Portal without anybody knowing about it.
If he could prove there was nothing of value inside, what would be the point of going on with the trials? He had an army and could use them to fight the Hunwei. That might be the better strategy.
He let out a long breath, closing his eyes to steel himself for what he needed to do. It wasn’t going to be an easy road, but he could do this.
He had to do this.
There was no other way forward. As stupid and petty as the Council was, he had to abide by their requirements if he were going to get into the Portal.
If he could complete his tasks when everybody expected him to fail, that would bring more people to his cause, even if the Rarbon Portal was just a bunch of rotting scrolls.
When he turned to leave he realized he was alone, all who’d been in the hall had gone. How long had he been standing here? He started on his way out of the meeting chamber, walking up the aisle while he thought about his next steps.
It was strange nobody had tried to speak with him after the trial had been announced.
They don’t think I can do it.
Who wants to be seen with a man they expect to fail. He thought of the sympathetic look he’d received from the female general. He wished he knew her name, perhaps she might be open to aligning with him.
He didn’t have time to meet her before he left, so he pushed away the thought to focus on the task at hand. He needed enough men that they’d be able to deal with any trouble they might encounter on the road, but not too many. Otherwise, the besieging Karchack army might perceive them as a threat.
Twenty-five seemed a good number.
Two masked people came out of the benches ahead, clubs in hand. The one on Jorad’s right was large and brawny, the other short and lithe. Both wore nothing but black clothing, even their hair was hidden by cowls. The masks had small slits through which they could see.
As Jorad reached for the hilt of his sword, he was grabbed from behind by several sets of hands. Somebody ripped his sword out of his sheath and flung it away.
Jorad stomped the foot of one who’d latched onto him, ripping free his arm, and punching another on his left in the gut. The club that man had been holding clattered to the floor as Jorad swept his feet out from underneath him with a kick.
Picking up the cudgel, Jorad realized it was a practice sword, complete with a wooden hilt and about the same balance as a real blade.
The man who’d flung away his sword stood behind Jorad. Even through the slits of his mask, Jorad could see the surprise in his eyes as Jorad whacked him hard on the neck, showing no mercy as even more masked people came from the shadows.
If this is another of these confounded hazing rituals, I want everyone to have a bruise to remember me.
The first man whose foot he’d stomped, attacked with his own wooden sword but Jorad stepped into it, using his arm to block while his practice blade cracked the man on the temple.
Jorad’s arm exploded in pain, but he ignored it while turning his attention to the man who he’d kicked off his feet. He moved slowly and never saw Jorad’s wooden sword coming for the back of his head.
As Jorad gasped for breath and faced the two who’d originally caught his attention—they’d appeared first to distract him, he was sure—three more appeared at his side, keeping their distance and chanting in a language he did not understand. Perhaps Adar would have known what it meant.
Those he’d already taken down broke away from Jorad, leaving him standing alone while he considered his options.
There was no longer a doubt this was a hazing ritual. More masked men continued to come from the woodwork. The two he’d originally spotted came to a stop about twenty feet in front of him.
He was surprised when he noticed that the smaller one was a woman, but recognized he shouldn’t have been, her figure was obvious. Nine people, one he assumed from every army.
Now that the large man was closer, Jorad believed it was Barlon. The assignment to be part of the group would have come from the Rarbon Council, and as they wouldn’t have gone to Jorad to make a selection, it would have fallen to Barlon instead, small wonder he’d decided to do it himself.
They weren’t going to kill Jorad, not even Barlon would dare do that in this setting, but Jorad doubted there would be any other restrictions on what they could do.
He was in for another beating.
The chant grew louder, sounding almost familiar to him. The words came to a halt, not one voice continuing beyond the others.
“Who is the man who would be Ghar?” Asked a voice to his side, he couldn’t identify the speaker.
Jorad spun the wooden blade to loosen up his wrist, his anger threatening to take control. They expected an answer, but he wasn’t certain what to say. If he said the wrong thing, he suspected it would be worse for him.
“I made a claim, but not for glory, I come to serve.”
The group hesitated, eyes looking at the man who’d spoken. Jorad followed them and identified the speaker as a short man with bulging arms.
“Most men make a claim in search of honor and glory. What makes you different? Why should we allow you to move forward?”
Because the Hunwei are coming, you confounded fools! It almost came out, but he refrained at the last moment.
“I want to protect us.”
“Why should we trust you?”
Jorad spun in place, wondering if there was any way for him to escape the beating, but every direction was blocked. He could try to make it down one of the rows of benches, but the masked people would hop up to the row and catch him before he made it far. As if anticipating what he was thinking, they moved in closer, making it less of a possibility.
He faced the speaker. “I don’t lie, but you have no way of knowing that. With time, you’ll see—”
“If your stories are true, we don’t have time. A Ghar is not easily selected and serves at our pleasure.”
That must have been a cue because they all took a step forward in unison.
Jorad brought up the wooden sword, ready to lash out. Everyone needs a bruise.
“There is one universal emotion,” the man intoned. “Fear. Know this Jorad Rahid. Should you prove unworthy, we will end you.”
There was no malice in the words, he spoke as calmly as if he’d been talking to a class of small children, but there was no mistaking the promise in his eyes. There was a pause before they all charged as one, a bloodcurdling scream coming from each.
Jorad dashed forward, deciding that he was going to make sure the leader had a painful lump. The man’s eyes widened, but he came forward still, as the others shifted their approach.
A wooden sword landed on Jorad’s back as he got to the leader. He feigned a blow with the practice sword but choose instead to slam into the man, not trying to slow in the slightest.
Jorad wasn’t certain if the hazing was something new because Adar had never mentioned it. He was starting to suspect this was something outside of what was typically expected. Something seemed off. Perhaps this was all Barlon’s doing, and maybe nine had been selected to make it appear as if it had official sanction when it did not. Perhaps the dogs were the same way.
Maybe this was being orchestrated by his own lieutenant generals in hopes of either driving him away or killing him.
There was a sickening crunch as the speaker and Jorad landed, but the pain in Jorad’s body didn’t increase so he figured the man had broken something during the fall.
Jorad sprung to his feet, leaping over the man, intending to escape, but the others had anticipated what he was going to do and had him surrounded again.
The blows came from all sides, aimed at everywhere except his head. For every one or two he fended off with his practice sword, another half dozen landed.