by R. T. Cole
Kelbain looked up at his son, eyes widened, as if these words were a direct attack on the King himself. “Careful, Zane. Choose your next words wisely.” Kelbain was adept at intimidating his opponents, and most of the time, it seemed, he was forced to treat his own son in the same fashion. This fact didn’t deter him from the obvious discipline that Zane required, but it still annoyed Kelbain ever so slightly.
Zane kept his head held high when addressing his father, showing no signs of being frightened or intimidated. “My King,” he began, “Dirce acts as if she is already queen, walking amongst the halls and giving orders to our soldiers.” He noticed no change in Kelbain’s composure. “She also disrespects Mother. Did you know that she has already taken to wearing Mother’s clothes?!” he said, as he raised his voice.
“Come now, Zane, they fit so well,” a voice sounded from one of the side entrances to the hall. The two men glanced over to where the woman was walking toward them. Dirce was a striking woman, at least by Zenithor standards: her skin as pale as the moon itself, and her eyes resembling the color of the sun, she was more than a match for the likes of Kelbain. Though the color of her eyes were a direct consequence of Kelbain’s gift of prolonged life, she grew fond of the change and used them to her advantage when utilizing her own abilities. Being an Illusionist, after all, had its benefits when attempting to persuade others to do her bidding. She approached the King and the Prince, slowly turned in place and waved her hand down the dress she was wearing. “Don’t you think?” she asked.
Zane gave her a cold stare, but addressed her all the same. With little to no emotion, he said, “Dirce.”
Kelbain spoke up now. “This is your future queen, boy! You will do well to remember that,” the King boomed. “And as far as your mother’s clothes, I think that it’s only fitting your soon-to-be mother does them justice.”
Zane noticed Dirce’s smile at this statement and frowned. “She’s not my mother... not yet,” he clarified.
Before the King could chastise his son, Dirce moved between them and addressed Zane. “But, I will be soon enough,” she reminded him. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak to your father alone.” She then motioned for him to leave the room with a wave of her hand. Zane immediately looked to his father, but Kelbain only nodded, signaling that it was time for Zane to leave.
As Zane turned to leave, Dirce attempted to instigate him further, saying, “I’m glad you will be here with us, Zane. We’re going to have lots of fun!” Zane didn’t bother to turn around and concern himself with that last comment, and he was out of the room soon enough.
Dirce turned to Kelbain and said, “My King,” right before she embraced him while kissing him passionately. It seemed that the kiss lasted forever, but when they finally parted lips, she asked, “How does it feel?” as she held her hands on Kelbain’s face. “Years of biding time, and you’ve finally taken what’s rightfully yours.”
“It was only a matter of time. But, now that it’s done,” he began to say before kissing her again. He continued, “I’m comfortable knowing that Zenithor and Woodhaven are in good hands. Now comes the next part of my objective.”
Dirce smiled at this. “We take all of it. All of Areon,” she said, overwhelmed with excitement.
Kelbain smiled and kissed her again. Then, he said, “Yes. But first, we must gather our full strength, as well as some allies in this war.”
Dirce’s smile faded and she slowly withdrew from Kelbain’s grasp. She shook her head, saying, “That’s not what we discussed. You don’t need allies, Kelbain. You’re the most powerful being in all of Areon. No one can match your power or your strength.”
He smirked at her with a flirtatious meaning, not exactly taking her seriously. “Sometimes I think giving you and your sister a longer life span has given you a sense of unearned knowledge,” he said condescendingly. “I may be a Sorcerer, but I am not Magor; and even he needed an army.” He sat down in his seat again. “We both know that there are those who would join us in equal cause,” he said knowingly. “Rayburn Duke, of Karthmere, will rally to us. He has sought the throne of the South for as many years as I can remember, and if I promise him a chance to take it, I know he will make the right choice.”
Dirce knelt down next to him and took his hand. “My love,” she said. “If you wait too long to strike, the others will gather their armies and attack first. Angelia, Stoneshield, the rest of the East will be the first, you know that,” she tried to convince him. “But, what if they convince the Northerners to fight us? And the South? You said it yourself, the Dukes want the throne there, so you know that King Wilfred will take arms against us.”
Kelbain lost his smile at this point, tired of the conversation. He wrested his hand away from Dirce forcefully, taking her by surprise. “I’ve made my decision,” he said as he looked away from her. “That will be all. Continue preparations for the wedding, and be ready to stand by my side... in all things,” he said threateningly as he looked at her again.
Dirce wasn’t shocked at his tone. She felt that Kelbain always needed to be in control of things, one way or the other. She liked to be in control as well. She silently wondered what would happen if she attempted to sway him to her vision. After all, she was a rare Sage, one who had all of the abilities in a specific class.
Sages of Areon were those with extraordinary abilities, and were mostly looked upon with either fear or hatred, but none were more hated and despised than the people of Zenithor. The Demon Sorcerer, Magor, had assured the fate of his people when he tried to take over Areon. He instilled that fear of Sages that so many people have. There were some in the world who only had one ability in a class, but when an individual exhibited more than one ability, they were usually met with hostility. Such was the case with Dirce, as she had the powers of a Reader and a Changer, making her a full-fledged Illusionist. What if I can make him do what I wanted, she asked herself. She had never tried to before, as she was afraid of the consequences of doing so. But, the more she thought about it, the more she began to believe in her own capableness. He isn’t thinking clearly. It should be an easy task, she convinced herself.
She stood up in front of him and looked deep into his eyes. She began to feel the sudden shift in power that would occur when she read a person’s mind or tried to control them. At the apex of this moment, she ventured into Kelbain’s mind. Beyond any usual thoughts and concerns, she moved further and further inside, until she discovered something. She suddenly realized the endgame of Kelbain’s plans. Showing half of a smirk, one that she failed to notice that Kelbain caught, she decided to play her hand at controlling his mind as well. “Trust me, my love. I know what’s best for Zenithor,” she said eerily. “We must make preparations and attack now.”
Kelbain’s eyes grew large and he looked directly at her for a moment. Dirce seemed to show a worrisome face at the moment that passed between them. But, Kelbain went on to say, “Yes, my Queen. I believe that there is room for some consideration in this matter.”
Dirce began to feel triumphant at her undertaking. She bowed to her King and said, “Thank you, my love. We shall speak again soon. I will now retire to my chambers.” Kelbain, giving her leave to head to her bedchamber, met her with a nod. After she turned to leave the hall, she grinned from ear to ear and thought of what she saw in his mind. Interesting. Very interesting, she contemplated. She still couldn’t get over the fact that she was able to control Kelbain in the first place. Not wanting to press any further, she fought the urge to read him again. She made an honest promise to herself that she wouldn’t try it. No, she would give it another day, at least, before pushing her luck.
Chapter 4
AN HONORABLE JOURNEY
Walking through the halls of Angelia every day felt like a dream; one that Rudimere didn’t want to wake up from. The city was considered to be the most beautiful in all of Areon, and was sometimes referred to as “The White Jewel.” In the case of this day, he wished he was actually asleep a
nd dreaming until the day was over. His friends tried to convince him that his birthday was nothing to get upset over, but he still had the same thoughts as always. He promised himself over and over that he would not rest until his father granted him leave to pursue something. He knew that he could offer more, be worth more, if only his father would see the same way. Already on his way to the throne room with haste, Rudimere stopped suddenly as he nearly crashed into the man that just turned down the same hall.
“Rudi, watch yourself!” said the man. He was tall, a bit over six feet, and wore white armor with a blue cloak, both the colors of their house. His hair was a darker shade of brown and just a little bit more kept than Rudi’s, but it was his features, even visible beneath the facial beard, that were very similar to his younger brother. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, little brother?” the man asked.
“Sorry, Andemar,” said Rudi. “Didn’t mean to bump into you like that. I’m on my way to see Father,” he stated with conviction.
Andemar looked at Rudimere with concern. He knew the things that his younger brother went through in regards to the way their father treated them all. Andemar would always be protective of him, while their oldest brother seemed to have the same rigid personality that Vandal had. In times when Andemar was present during the arguments between Rudi and their father, he would serve as the voice of reason, even if that voice said to listen to Vandal’s commands. But, today was different.
“As am I,” Andemar said, as he shook his head. When Rudi gave a look of confusion, Andemar continued, “You haven’t heard?” he asked.
“What’s happened?” Rudi asked uneasily. He began to look worried and forgot about his reasoning for seeing his father in the first place. It was a rare thing for him to see Andemar this way, so he knew that something terrible had happened. His mind raced. Did something happen to Father? Had Grandfather passed on, he began to wonder.
Andemar turned his head and looked out the window nearby. He could see the grasslands in front of the city, the people bustling about, making their way around, oblivious to the inevitable. “War is coming,” he simply said. He looked back to his brother, saying, “Kelbain of Zenithor has finally made a move after all these years. He’s taken Woodhaven and claimed the Western throne.”
The shock on Rudi’s face was clear. There hadn’t been an open declaration of war like this in decades; not since The Sorcerer’s War. It was always a wonder that Kelbain, being Magor’s own son, kept the peace with the Prastors of Woodhaven. Why now? Rudi pondered. It was a question that needed no answer, however, as the point was already made. Kelbain named himself King and meant to take over all of Areon.
A part of Rudi savored the idea of going to war and making a name for himself, and another part of him thought that it would be exciting to take on Kelbain himself. But, he was smarter than that; pride and selfishness were two things he didn’t want to display during such a crisis. He took a moment and replied to his brother, “How can I help?”
“We must speak with Father. He’ll decide what we should do,” Andemar said, already two steps closer to the throne room.
Rudi followed Andemar, anticipating their conversation with their father, but also afraid that he would be made to stay behind, just like any other time. But, this is different, he thought. Grandfather is going to need everyone’s help against Kelbain’s army. He immediately swore to this line of thinking, and made a note to ignore whatever his father ordered, no matter the consequences.
After reaching the throne room, they noticed that no one was there, save for one man, sitting in the seat directly to the right of the Eastern throne. In Angelia, there were always three seats in the Great Hall: the throne itself in the middle, while the neighboring chairs were reserved for the King’s next two successors. The direct successor sat to the King’s immediate right, while the next in line sat to his left, all from his point of view. The seat to the King’s right, of course, belonged to Prince Vandal, while the seat to his left belonged to the man who sat there in front of Andemar and Rudi: their older brother, Thasus.
“Brothers,” he acknowledged them without getting up from his seat. “We’re just waiting for Father and Grandfather now.”
Rudi didn’t know why, but he was always surprised at how big Thasus was. His brother was a very muscular man who towered over many he came across, being around the same height as Andemar. His build and battle prowess are what made him an intimidating man to approach. Rudi had once seen Thasus crush a man’s hand with his gauntlet after the man attempted to steal from the armory. He never forgot the sound it made when it looked as if the man’s hand were detached from the wrist. Even though Thasus was adept at keeping the peace in the city, he had also been responsible for leading the army of Angelia into battle… at least in the past. Their father had taken Thasus from his post, citing the need to keep his sons away from war and closer to the throne where they belonged. It took a long time for Thasus to get used to his new role as an advisor to the King, but he did what his father told him to and never asked questions. But, over the years, Andemar and Rudimere could tell their brother was not happy and that he wanted to do more. They were all more alike than they cared to recognize.
“Anything that I can do to help, Brother?” Rudi asked Thasus. Of course, Rudi was expecting to hear “Just attend the meeting and be silent!” or “We need you here, Rudimere. Not playing at war out there!” Now that he thought about it, this would most likely be the case when Vandal arrived anyhow.
Thasus tilted his head slightly when he looked at Rudi. He even raised his eyebrows a touch, and Rudi was fully prepared to hear the usual refusal. But then, Thasus sighed and said, “I know you’re always looking to be of help, brother… and this may be your chance. But, we must wait for the others to get here before we discuss it any further.”
Well, that was different, Rudi admitted to himself. He nodded toward Thasus, accepting his statement, but still couldn’t believe it. He grew more anxious for the King and the Prince to walk in, but didn’t let it show. If today was the day to prove his worth, he’d make sure that he was taken seriously.
After a few moments, Prince Vandal walked into the room, with the King noticeably absent. He stopped in front of his three sons and looked at each one of them. His face seemed to exhibit a weariness that they were not used to. They knew that the King was ill, but they began to guess that things had taken a turn for the worse.
“The King can no longer manage himself to the throne room, and has advised me of the preparations to carry out,” Vandal said with a forced, but resolute, strength; though, his words were masked with a sullen quality that his sons could not ignore. Vandal made his way to the throne of the Eastern King. He hesitated, but took his seat in the chair. Thasus and Andemar both looked at each other, knowing what needed to be done, but still became locked in place.
Thasus was the first to move, as he needed to switch seats to Vandal’s other side, symbolizing that if Vandal were King, Thasus would be the first in line to the throne.
Andemar went ahead and sat down where Thasus previously sat. He grew up wondering what it would be like to sit in one of those chairs, but never took it upon himself to even try. He had plenty of moments where he could’ve done so when no one was around, but always had a deep respect for the traditions of their family and could never bring himself to do it. This war is already changing things, he silently accepted with a sigh.
Rudimere stood in awe as his older brothers took larger steps closer to the kind of renown that he wished for. Again, he reminded himself that all of this was only occurring because the new King, Kelbain, had massacred a family in the West, and that he shouldn’t make light of that fact. Still, he was envious of his brothers at the moment, regardless of circumstance.
“I take it you have all heard the news from the West,” Vandal said. “If you have or haven’t, let me just say this: Areon hasn’t had a full-scale war since the days of Magor,” he began, “but now his son is attempting to finish
what the Demon Sorcerer started over 60 years ago…” His tone was more serious than his sons had ever heard before. “Kelbain has murdered Fulton Prastor, taken over Woodhaven, and is now amassing an army from Zenithor to strike at all corners of Areon… according to the detailed letter that the new West King sent to us,” Vandal told his sons.
Rudimere raised his eyebrows, wondering why Kelbain would reveal such plans to his enemies. Bold move, he thought to himself. Victor had told them stories of the son of the Demon Sorcerer, and of his defeat during the war; it looked as though the new King was just as cocky as he was back then.
“Do not let him fool you,” Vandal began to say, as if he were reading Rudi’s mind. “If this man, this murderer, waited decades to strike, there must be a reason why.” His sons nodded in agreement. “Thankfully, and your grandfather agrees, we’re not going to wait around to find out that reason.”
It was Andemar that spoke up this time. Looking bewildered after his father’s statement, he asked, “Father?”
Vandal spoke again, “I have missions for you to attend to.” Then, he looked at Rudimere with a bit of sadness. “All of you,” he pointed out.
Rudi’s eyes lit up. Don’t look too eager, he reminded himself. He couldn’t help it; he immediately responded to his father’s comment and said, “We won’t let you down, Father.”
Vandal sighed and shook his head. “My boys…I’m going to tell you this, here and now, because I’ve never been completely honest about certain things,” Vandal admitted. All three of his sons looked at him, confused, but he went on, “I never wanted any of you to get involved with swordplay, or being knights, or being in any sort of danger. I had heard plenty of stories from your grandfather and I just wanted you all to be safe, away from magic and wars.” Vandal lowered his head, almost ashamed as he said the words. “Truthfully, you’ve all been more of a Palidor than I ever was.” He saw the look of concern in his sons’ eyes and realized that this was the first time he had been this open and honest with them about these matters. After all these years, his father had been right.