The Blind King

by Lana Axe

  Na’zora’s forces outmatched Ra’jhou’s at every battle, leaving Ryshel with no way to send the princess any letters in return. Still, she wrote about her own three children and how they had grown these past ten years. She spoke of the good health of both Efren and Gannon, the beautiful weather of the mountain kingdom, and the king’s lack of interest in marriage or the production of an heir. She avoided talk of the war. Every letter she had written sat undelivered inside her desk drawer. Ryshel looked upon them with sadness, wishing she could have the letters delivered. With the Na’zorans gaining ground within the realm, she knew it would be folly to try. The letters would surely be intercepted, and they could cause harm to Aubriana, who had already fallen under suspicion.

  Efren had done well ruling in Gannon’s stead, but he differed greatly from his brother in his opinion of war. Efren hoped to negotiate peace, but the council would not agree on terms. They were prepared to give Na’zora nothing, even if it cost more lives. Gannon was content to continue the fight. His idea of peace was slaughtering the Na’zoran king.

  Instead of arguing with his brother or the council, Efren busied himself coordinating the movement of supplies that would aid the Ra’jhouan army. This included food, weapons, and medical supplies, which the soldiers desperately needed. The councilors were more involved in defending the outlying villages, leaving the supply lines unmonitored. Efren knew that if those items fell into Na’zoran hands, the war would be lost. Ra’jhou could not hope to win any battles with starving and sick soldiers.

  King Gannon once again returned from battle to see to matters at court. He did so as frequently as possible, considering the ongoing crisis in his kingdom. Once the counselors had assembled, he stood before them still dressed in his battle armor. “The Na’zorans have been pushed back, but we still haven’t regained our most southern villages. They are using them as bases for their army, and we must come down on them with force.”

  “We need more troops,” Willem replied.

  “There are none,” Gannon admitted. “We have boys as young as fourteen signing up, but they are too inexperienced to be much use. We need trained soldiers, but there are no more to be found.”

  “We’ll have to send conscription notices to the farming villages,” Faril said.

  “Farmers will be just as unskilled as the boys,” Efren pointed out. “And that will leave our armies and our people without food. Who will produce grain and tend livestock when all the farmers lay dead on the battlefield?”

  “The women could take over the farms,” Faril said with a shrug. “It will make them feel useful.” He cared not for Efren’s opinions. Clearly the prince did not understand how to conduct a war.

  “I think you will find Ra’jhouan women most eager to do their share, but they also have children to tend to,” Efren replied. “You expect them to do the work of a housewife as well as the labor of a man. It’s too much to ask.”

  “We are at war!” Faril shouted. Rising to his feet, he leaned in close to the prince. “No man or woman’s path is easy. The other alternative is surrender, and I’m not ready for that!”

  “No one is surrendering,” Gannon stated calmly. “Farmers will not make good soldiers. They will serve as little more than targets for the Na’zorans. Food production is more important right now. General, can you appoint more men to train our less experienced soldiers?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Willem replied. “At the very least, they will know formations and have basic knowledge of a weapon. They won’t be proficient, but they’ll do.”

  “Send messengers to all outlying villages and accept any citizens who are willing to fight. Bring all the criminals you can find. They don’t get a choice.” The king paused momentarily and looked at each of his councilors. “We must now discuss how best to manage our enemy’s mages,” he said. “At first they were of little consequence, but now they are growing in both strength and number. Word has reached my ears that they are now setting fire to some of our villages, using only their bare hands. Do any of you have knowledge of this magic?”

  No citizen of Ra’jhou had ever studied magic, and the councilors looked from one to the other in silence. Efren alone had studied about the elves and the types of magic they could conjure.

  “If the elves are indeed training them, then it is entirely possible they can produce spells of fire,” the prince said. “They’ve had years to perfect the art while we’ve focused on the same tired tactics our forefathers used.” At each meeting he had attended, the council’s discussion of strategy consisted only of debating how loudly to sound the charge. Not a man among them had a new idea to share.

  Councilman Faril scoffed at Efren’s words. “I don’t see you trying to learn magic,” he said. “Our tactics have served us well. We would have lost the kingdom by now if not for our brave king.”

  The other councilors spoke up in agreement.

  “I’m not saying those tactics don’t work,” Efren replied calmly. “I’m saying we have no prior experience when it comes to fighting mages. There has never been a need to defend against them, but now there is. We must figure out a better way of fighting. Perhaps we should try to form an alliance with the elves.”

  Voices rang out in protest, each councilman speaking over the one next to him. Ra’jhou was not friendly with its Wild Elf neighbors, and they would never agree to join forces. The Enlightened Elves were too far away, living on islands in the sea. Ra’jhou had only a few ships and no reason to travel so far.

  “Quiet!” the king insisted. “My brother’s idea has some merit. We do need a new strategy to defend against these magical opponents.” He turned to his brother. “What do you suggest?”

  “I cannot say how to take down their mages, but perhaps we can thin their army a bit.”

  “We thin their numbers every time we engage them,” Willem argued. “What do you think we’re doing out there?” He had no patience for a blind prince who could not stand and fight.

  Gannon raised a hand to silence the general. “What do you suggest, Brother?”

  “A diversion, perhaps?” Efren was thinking on the fly, but an idea came to him that might prove useful. “We can allow them to intercept a letter concerning the location of our supplies. If they think they can starve our army, they should take the bait. When they arrive expecting to find poorly guarded crates, they will discover instead that they are surrounded by our troops.”

  Nodding his approval, Gannon said, “That sounds like a good plan. We might catch them unaware. See to this, General Willem.”

  The general bowed to his king but remained silent. If the plan worked, Ra’jhou had a good chance of eliminating some of Na’zora’s soldiers. Maybe a mage or two would be among them. Efren could only hope the plan would succeed. It was doubtful King Tryol would send a large force, so Ra’jhou should easily be able to outnumber them. Victory would likely be determined by the presence or absence of mages.

  Before leaving for battle, Gannon took Efren aside. “Perhaps an alliance with the elves would not be a terrible thing,” he admitted. “See what information you can find on the Enlightened Elves and whether they would be willing to teach our people as well. Maybe we could come to battle with some mages of our own.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he replied. He did not mention that he had already been in contact with several sorcerers of the Sunswept Isles and Ral’nassa. So far, he had been unable to find anyone willing to travel in this time of war. In his studies, he had learned it takes decades for a human to master the simplest spells. It was obvious that Na’zora had been planning this for some time. His sister’s marriage had never secured any kind of peace. It had only served as a diversion from the truth.

  Chapter 12

  Efren’s strategy turned out to be successful. A sizable regiment of the Na’zoran army was defeated, thanks to his plan. Gannon sent word thanking his brother and complimenting him on his cunning. It was a small victory for Ra’jhou, and there weren’t many of those to be found.
The Na’zorans still had the upper hand, and their mages were still a force to be reckoned with. So far, the king himself had not encountered any mages. Rumors were spreading across the kingdom of their immense power, and the citizens fled in terror at their approach.

  Efren sat next to Ryshel, anxiously awaiting his guest. After years of correspondence, a representative of Ral’nassa’s Grand Council had agreed to meet with him. At first he insisted Efren do the traveling, but such a voyage was impossible. With Gannon constantly riding off to war, Efren would never have been granted leave.

  A page entered the room, followed by a tall, white-haired elf. “My lord,” the page said. “I present Master Uhnar of Ral’nassa.”

  The bronze-skinned elf inclined his head slightly. He wore an opulent, orange robe, decorated with swirling lines of yellow and red. His long white hair trailed freely down his back, reaching well past his waist. Standing nearly seven feet in height, he was the tallest person Ryshel had ever seen.

  “I am most grateful to you for meeting with me, Master Uhnar,” Efren stated. “I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”

  “Hardly,” the elf replied. “I’ve come only because of your incessant letters. You’ve got the attention of quite a few high-ranking sorcerers, you know.” Uhnar smirked and shook his head. “They were going to send a mere apprentice with a message asking you to stop contacting them, but I decided to volunteer my services. I could do with a little amusement.”

  Ryshel glanced at her husband, whose calm expression did not waver. “It is good of you to come,” she said.

  “Firstly, I do not converse with women. Dismiss her and we shall talk.” He strutted to the fireplace and took a seat.

  “It’s been a difficult road to get him here,” Efren said to his wife. “I value your opinion, but I fear I must oblige this guest. Do you mind stepping out?”

  “I doubt I would enjoy his company anyway,” she replied. With a curtsy, she exited, leaving her husband behind with the sorcerer.

  Efren made his way to the fireplace and sat across from Uhnar.

  “So,” the elf said, “you wish to learn magic.”

  “I wish to learn a method of protecting my people from magic,” Efren explained. “Our kingdom has never faced war against mages, and we are unprepared. There is little chance of our survival without your help.” Efren did not wish to sound overly desperate, but he must impress upon this elf the seriousness of Ra’jhou’s situation. If what he’d read was correct, they were an arrogant people who considered all humans inferior.

  “It isn’t possible,” Uhnar said. “It would take too many years. Your enemy has been training for quite some time, and they are still inferior to us. Humans do not regenerate their own magic as we elves do. They rely on massive quantities of potions to maintain their magical stores. It’s rather pathetic.” His tone was almost humorous.

  “Are you saying my people need not fear them?”

  “Oh they’re deadly, to be sure,” he replied. “But they are far inferior to elven sorcerers. You should at least consider yourself lucky to be dealing only with humans.”

  Efren took a deep breath and tried again. “Is there any magical item you could supply that would help us? If we can’t learn magic quickly enough, then there must be some other option.”

  “There isn’t much.” The sorcerer sounded bored. He had come to this land for amusement, and so far, he had found none.

  At the risk of sounding rude, Efren replied, “Then why have you come? To mock us?”

  Uhnar laughed and clapped his hands together. “I can see you are frustrated.” He stared into Efren’s crystal eyes and tried to see the man inside. “You care for your people, and these so-called mages are killing them. I personally don’t see them as a threat, but that is because they are inferior in their training. I can speak to the Grand Council on your behalf, if you would like.”

  “Would you ask them to stop supplying potions to the Na’zorans?” If Efren could not produce his own mages, he might at least put an end to those of his enemy.

  “No,” the elf replied. “We do not supply them. For that, you would have to find someone on the Sunswept Isles who would listen, and good luck with that.”

  Efren was growing more frustrated by the minute. He had tried contacting the Grand Council of the Sunswept Isles, but they had ignored him over the years. It was disappointing to find out Na’zora’s mages were not supplied by Ral’nassa. Still hoping to form an alliance, Efren asked, “Will your council send aid? Troops? Mages? Anything would help at this point.”

  “I said I would speak to them. That is all I can promise.” The sorcerer slumped back in his chair, lazily twirling a strand of hair upon his finger.

  “Do you know anyone on the Sunswept Isles who would be willing to converse with me? I have attempted to open talks with them for years, but my efforts have been met with silence.”

  “Now that is something I could do,” Uhnar replied with a grin. He sat forward on his seat, placing his hands on his knees. “I have connections that might be of service. I can also advise you on how to speak with them more effectively.” With a laugh, he added, “They are a fickle sort on those islands.”

  “Your assistance is most appreciated,” Efren replied, wondering what price this elf would ask. There was little chance he had come this far out of the goodness of his heart.

  “My assistance you shall have, Prince Efren,” Uhnar replied. “As I said before, I’ve come for my own amusement. I trust you have accommodations for me? I don’t plan to stay more than a day, though, so we shall have to work quickly. Have your servants prepare a room and meet me there.” He rose from his seat, adding, “Have them bring wine as well.”

  Efren motioned the page to step forward. “See that our guest is made comfortable. Give him the finest room we have available and provide him with any refreshment he requires.”

  “I’m told you have many handsome ladies here at court,” Uhnar said. “I hope I’m not mistaken in that?” He raised an eyebrow at the page, whose eyes darted back to Efren.

  “Let us discuss business first,” Efren replied. “My servant shall inquire of the ladies at court who might like to make your acquaintance.”

  “Splendid,” he said. “Boy, make sure my ship is adequately supplied with wine. I’d like to take some of your vintage home for my friends to sample.”

  Efren nodded to his servant. If it cost him every drop of wine in the kingdom, it would still be worth it to stop the mages from attacking. He hoped Uhnar’s help would prove worthy of such a trade.

  Chapter 13

  Sunlight filled Aubriana’s chambers as she sat up in her bed. The window was open, and a soft breeze made its way lazily through the room. The fresh ocean breeze smelled far different from the mountain air she had loved as a girl. Though Na’zora had been her home for many years, she could not stop her mind from wandering back to better times spent in Ra’jhou.

  Shala pushed aside the sheer bed curtains. “Good morning, my lady.” Her voice was cheerful as usual.

  Aubriana managed a half-smile. “Good morning,” she echoed.

  “I trust you slept well,” she said, reaching for the princess’s hand.

  Aubriana sighed. Of course she had slept well. There was little else to do in her bed. Since the birth of her son, Prince Ivor had not visited her chambers even once. With the production of an heir complete, he considered his duties in her bedchamber to be over. He found pleasure in the arms of others, rather than in his wife’s. Restrictions had been placed upon her, giving her little freedom to wander the palace grounds. She seldom left her chambers. On rare occasions she was allowed to attend court events, but those were infrequent since the kingdom was at war.

  The highlight of her day was a visit from Rayne, her son. He brought much joy into her miserable existence. She would listen to him recount his playtime adventures, and her worries would be lessened. Her mind was ever plagued by thoughts of Ra’jhou, and the family she had left behind. If
only she could visit, and take her son as well. Perhaps she would not return to Na’zora. With Gannon on the throne and her father dead, there was no one to force her back. If only there was a means of escape.

  Shala readied a light blue gown for the princess to wear. “You’ll look lovely in this,” she said, stroking the satin.

  Without warning, the prince burst into the room, the door clanging loudly behind him. Aubriana startled and raised her arms to cover herself. Though the man was her husband, she did not feel comfortable being observed in a state of undress. His presence felt no more familiar than any other man.

  “The king demands you see him at once,” the prince said coldly. “I suggest you don’t keep him waiting.”

  “I wasn’t aware he had returned from his latest campaign,” she replied. “I shall be with him shortly.”

  Without another word, Ivor turned on a heel and exited the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

  “What do you think the king wants?” Shala asked nervously. She lifted the dress over Aubriana’s head and tugged at the laces on the back.

  “I don’t know,” the princess replied. “I’m sure it is to scold me for one thing or another.” The king was rarely in residence, as he was far too busy making battle arrangements to hold court. No doubt he wanted information about Ra’jhou. “He probably wants to threaten me with torture if I don’t reveal my brother’s secrets.”

  Shala gasped. “You shouldn’t think such things, my lady. The king must know you haven’t had any word from your brother.”

  Aubriana smiled, placing a hand on Shala’s arm. “Don’t worry. There’s little else he could do to me that he hasn’t already. I’m his prisoner, and I exist only because he has found no reason to dispose of me.” Though her words and posture suggested bravery, in truth she was terrified. King Tyrol was a ruthless man, and any who crossed his path could expect swift punishment. Whatever he wanted, it was unlikely to be a trivial matter. He had never before requested her presence at court without an important reason. Word of a happy occasion would have reached her. This visit with the king would not be pleasant.