Ice Dragon Tales

by Hurri Cosmo

  However, the whole kingdom could not come with him on this mission. He commanded his first officer to spread that news. Only military personnel--present military personnel--were allowed to march with him to Claymoor Doom. Disassembling the troops and holding them back would now take more precious time.

  Diagus didn't know what he would face when he arrived in Claymoor Doom. If indeed he needed to buy his brother's freedom, he could do it with his sister. If he needed to convince his brother to come home, he had the means to do that as well with Kinnabe's imprisonment. He had a very convincing reason to compel his wayward sister to comply with his wishes, too, if he needed it, intending to make her take responsibility for Joron's capture. He had even put into motion another plan already if all else failed. Yes, he covered all the bases and was now ready to move forward. Soon, very soon, Joron would be back in his arms and finally, in his bed.

  He smiled and stretched his aching muscles. For some reason, he truly believed he was going to have to fight the King of Claymoor Doom in order to bring Joron home. It was not a pleasant thought. The King of Claymoor Doom was formidable and commanded an army of not only great numbers but of great talent. Tamusi was moving toward consolidating the kingdoms and so far had not been met with opposition, mainly due to those very things. But he found himself thinking and believing he could win the day because as he looked out at the horde of commoners who appeared like they would not back down, who seemed to give the impression of being able to take on any monster to save Joron, he knew in his heart, this was far from over.

  Being their king, he was duty bound to protect them. He could not let them accompany him, although it would be an incredible sight for even the King of Claymoor Doom to see this size of so-called army, ragtag as it was, coming to take back their prince. The price would still be too high. No. Instead, Diagus had to believe if a fight had to take place at all, it would be over a negotiation table and not on a battlefield.

  Finally turning from the filling courtyard, he took the reins of his horse and mounted up in one leap with only one thought in his head.

  Bringing Joron home.

  Chapter 14

  "Would you still like to go on that tour? I have a session in a little while. You can come with me to that, too, it you like. Afterward, we can head for the storage areas."

  Aric's arm was under Joron's neck as they lay in bed, and while he talked, he pulled him into an embrace, forcing Joron's head onto his shoulder. Joron felt Aric's hot breath on the top of his head, felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest under his cheek as Aric held him close. Joron couldn't help but close his eyes as the emotions rushed through him.

  "Yes, I really would." He smiled, truly looking forward to seeing how they moved supplies in and out, what and how they kept inventory, and how they dealt with spoilage. If it was more efficient than what he saw at home, he would try to learn how to make the changes. But the big thing he wanted to see was did they know anything more about medicines than Blade Rain? For the first time, Joron actually thought about what it was that Aric was attempting to do in consolidating the kingdoms. He had originally heard it was more about the trades, about sharing resources and responsibilities for safety, but in thinking about medicines and helping those in need, consolidation was truly something to consider.

  If all of those who had an interest in mixing medicines or treating the sick were able to consult together and discuss each of their findings, everyone would benefit. The best could teach others and a universal knowledge would begin. Plus, if there was one central place, where a storehouse of food and clothing and materials usually needed in times of crisis, was kept, it would be far easier to maintain inventory and therefore, more efficient to provide for those in need. The smaller storehouses in the parishes, a very local place of refuge, would be supported and maintained by that one main unit. It was brilliant. Yes, he needed to leave this castle, but it would now be irresponsible of him--an actual disservice to his people--if he left before he learned all he could.

  "Yes. Please."

  He moved to look up into the king's eyes, only to see if he could discern what he was thinking, but when he did, what he saw was very encouraging. The king looked happy. He looked relaxed and happy. Joron blushed as images of what they had shared tumbled through his mind and he quickly looked away. A large hand fell on his hair and stroked. Joron sighed.

  "I will need clothes."

  Aric's hearty laugh filled the room. "Yes, I suppose you do. Let's see what we can find." He swung out of bed, dragging Joron with him. "It seems you're far more resourceful than I gave you credit for. Which reminds me... We have yet to talk about what it was you were doing wandering around the castle when I told you to stay in this room. Not to mention the fact you knocked out one of my guards."

  Joron paled, remembering being caught and Aric's anger because of it. Doing what they had just done had made Joron forget. But how could they discuss why it was he was trying to escape? How could he tell this amazing man he had already fallen for him and in order to protect his very being, he had to move himself out of harm's way? He absolutely could not allow himself to fall further.

  Joron simply did not want to be one of many. He wanted to be the only one and this man had feverishly kissed a woman in the forest, an absolute stranger. Then hours later, he zealously negotiated for his sister's hand in marriage, and a mere couple days after that, passionately took Joron to his bed.

  Even without all Joron had witnessed, there was no way Aric would be void of partners. Ever. But it meant nothing to Joron. It couldn't. He had work to do, a kingdom that needed him. He couldn't pretend any longer he meant anything to this king. Even if he did, it didn't change his responsibilities. How could he tell him any of this?

  Instead, he would change the subject. "I...it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, wouldn't it be more important to find out who is terrorizing your son? Who put him in that room?" There. That should do it. The father Joron saw, even for the few moments he saw him, told him plainly this subject was far more important in every way.

  * * * *

  Aric sighed. Yes, he truly did need to find out what happened to his son. It was obvious whoever did this was one of his own people. His heart plummeted with that knowledge. Who hated Aric or his son so much this act was something that was even to cross someone's mind? Who could possibly attack a small child instead of standing out and defying Aric in the open?

  He trusted the nanny, had only looked to see if there was a missing button, because it was what he did. It had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with being thorough. The button itself was extremely common, used on pretty much everything officially Claymoor. But though the button was common, it was still not easily replaced. So, for the moment, he would question the people around Reeth and hopefully the clue he had would help identify the culprit.

  But in the meantime, he still wanted to know the reason Joron was outside of the king's chambers in the first place. Aric looked at him then. Joron was waiting for an answer. He smirked. This young man certainly was clever, he had to give him that. He effortlessly changed the subject and put Aric's thoughts to action elsewhere. And it had worked. Aric was gifted in that he did not forget an objective, something Joron couldn't possibly know, but in this case, he would allow for the redirect. It was obvious Joron had been trying to run, for what reason he truly didn't know. It could be any number of motives and some of them were ones Aric was not willing to hear. So for now, he would allow this slippery little demon to bypass the question. He was due in session anyway. He would drag Joron along to make sure he made no more attempts today.

  "Don't worry, Joron. I have no intention of letting whoever did this to my son, get away with it. I already set into motion all I can at the moment to find out who it is. Plus, I also made sure Taiyo is well protected from now on. And I want you to know, I sent for some clothes for you. The women who will make sure of the fit are waiting at the door."

  Aric walked to his wardrobe ag
ainst the far wall and when he opened it, once again it was filled with his clothes. Aric looked back to the stunned look on Joron's face and smiled at his total innocence. "What's the point of moving them farther away? You'll still find them somehow, right? So, I'll no longer inconvenience myself in this. Besides, I'm giving you clothes that actually fit you. You will no longer look like a little kid dressing up in his father's robes."

  Ahhhh, there is that flash of anger again.

  His heart leaped and so did his loins. But he made himself turn away. As much as he wanted to return right now to the bed, he could not. He had business to attend to, a kingdom to run. He had a long session ahead of him and he would have Joron in attendance.

  That thought and what it meant, suddenly took hold in Aric's brain. Joron was well versed in attending these types of things. Aric's heart skipped a couple of beats and he felt a hot flush wash over his face, knowing the fact that not only was Joron experienced, there was a strong possibility he would stand in judgment over everything Aric did and did not do today for his people. He hadn't thought this through to that extent. What if Joron didn't approve of the way he did business either? What if afterward, he would have to look at Joron's disappointed face? No...that wouldn't happen. He was fair to his people. He was hard, yes. He was sometimes even merciless, but never cruel. And he was definitely fair. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer for discernment and wisdom. Today he would read the ancient words written on the stairs as he sat at his throne. He would pay them homage and honor them as best he knew how.

  * * * *

  Joron was going to go with King Aric to his session with his people, so he had been fitted with a tan tunic and pants. They had been brought in and left for him to wear until another set of clothes could be made that would fit him better than Aric's clothes had. Actually, the tunic and pants almost did fit him, even if they were the property of some unknown child belonging to one of the servants. It wasn't that Joron minded wearing servants' clothes. He actually did it all the time. He was simply offended they were considered children's clothing. He supposed, now that he thought about it, they were considered children's clothes in his own castle as well. He had not given it that much thought before. He was also certain no one among his servants would ever tell him such a thing either. But of course, here they couldn't wait to not only tell him and tease him about it, but they made no effort at all to hide the fact there were children who were bigger than Joron.

  He knew that. He was just never ever told that.

  He was also terribly embarrassed because it was obvious Aric was having too good of a time listening to the banter coming from his castle servants as they puttered and cooed all around Joron, measuring and fussing. It seemed he was not going to allow Joron out of his sight, so decided to sit in one of his oversized chairs and watch, as if he were being entertained. However, at one point in the process Joron lost hold of the towel at his waist, the only thing covering his naked body. In that same instant Aric was on his feet and loudly proclaiming, "Out! All of you. You have had enough time to figure out what size he is. Now out with you."

  Joron watched as they all scampered out of the room, grabbing up their papers, chalks, and fabrics. Hearing a growl from closer behind him than he remembered Aric being, Joron turned to see Aric had come up close behind him, but was motionless now as he stared wide-eyed at Joron standing there. The look on his face was very telling.

  It looked like the good citizens of Claymoor Doom were going to have to wait a little bit longer.

  * * * *

  "I-I'm sorry, King Aric, but I think he's lying." Joron sat to the left and rear of Aric, behind the throne.

  "What?" The king turned to look at Joron.

  Joron was surprised Aric heard him and stunned he paid any attention at all. Joron shrank back in his chair, feeling the burn of embarrassment climb his face, realizing he was being stared at by more than only Aric. He assumed it was for his audacity to interrupt the king in session. If there was a hole in the ground, he would have jumped into it. Normally, he was always deathly quiet during these types of proceedings, mainly because he was never supposed to be in attendance, but he had never been up front where he could actually see the faces of the citizens as they told their stories. He had never had the opportunity to compare what he was hearing from behind a wall, with a face, expressions, and body language.

  And this man was lying.

  "What did you say?" Aric was irritated now. No one ever liked to be interrupted, especially a king, especially in session.

  "I-I said, I think he's lying," Joron's voice was a whisper, accompanied by little squeaks.

  The anger Joron saw on Aric's face disappeared. He bowed his head for a moment. "Why, Joron?" he asked quietly. "Why do you say that?"

  Joron still felt like a fool for interrupting. He truly had not meant to say anything at all, much less out loud. He had been so surprised himself at what he knew to be the truth. As the people came through the room on their various missions, for whatever it was they wanted audience with the king for, Joron continued to be amazed and thrilled with his front row seat. The people were nervous and put off by this extra person who sat to the king's left, but he also sat far enough back that it was quite obvious he had no say. Aric had, up until this moment, pretty much ignored his presence as well. At least it was what he portrayed.

  * * * *

  Aric was very aware of Joron's presence. As he sat and listened, he tried his best to pay closer attention than he normally did. He didn't want to miss the slightest remark, which could sway his decisions in any way. He wanted to make sure every one of his conclusions were thought out and calculated from every angle. Most, he was relieved, were easy. He honestly knew they would be, but he still allowed doubts to dictate his actions.

  Long ago, Aric, along with his advisors, set up a counseling system where mediators were provided and heard arguments first. Because of the system, usually disputes were settled before they ever reached Aric's ears. The only disputes that actually made it to the throne were the more difficult disagreements or quarrels that would not settle with counsel or the domestic type clashes, which tended to be more involved and volatile.

  Aric was certain Joron heard his share of these arguments as well, but obviously never became involved with them. Still, Joron had for years sat in silent judgment on these exact things. But this wasn't one of those volatile family issues that stood in front of the throne. The man in question was here mainly to acquire food and livestock after a tragic fire that took everything from him, including his wife. For Aric, it was a simple matter and one he was glad came to him because it would show Joron how generous he could be. But now, Joron was telling him the man was lying? About what? Certainly there were witnesses to the fire. The man's wife was killed. Why would he lie?

  "I...don't know why he would lie. I just...know he is."

  "Joron, you have to give me more than that. Sound judgments have to be based on fact. You have to know that."

  "Of course I do. It's only..." Joron looked at the man fidgeting in front of the throne. "Ask him specifically what happened to his wife."

  Aric's eyes narrowed. What was Joron thinking? He turned, mulling it over in his mind, looking hard at the man standing in front of him. "How is it, sir, your wife came to die?"

  The man stared up at the king with a shocked look on his face. "I...I...she was...she went..." He immediately dropped his gaze. "She went into the barn to release the cows but she didn't make it back out."

  "Where were you?"

  "I...I was...I was trying to put out the fire."

  Aric narrowed his eyes. Why was the man acting as if he were making up the story as he went? Had he not been questioned before now? Had the mediators seen this very thing and that was the reason he was sent before the king? Or perhaps the man thought with the loss of his wife, the mediators would feel sorry enough for him they would give him whatever he wanted, as Aric was thinking to do...and all on the pretense of showing off in front o
f Joron. But it had been Joron who had seen it. The heat rose on Aric's face for a number of reasons but the biggest one at the moment was anger at the thought he had been deceived.

  "With what?" he nearly shouted.

  The man startled. "Sire?"

  "What were you using to put out the fire?"

  "B-buckets? Buckets. I was bringing buckets of water from the well."

  "Shouldn't you have sent your wife on that mission instead of sending her into the barn to die?"

  The man fell to the floor on his knees. "Yes! Yes, I should have. But...but..."

  Aric took a stab in the dark. "But you were drunk and passed out and when you woke up?"

  There was a slight pause. "Everything was gone." He whispered this last sentence, jerking his shoulders in apparent weeping.

  Aric couldn't help but think the gesture looked fake. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why would you lie?"

  "Because...because I didn't..."

  "Why would you lie?" Aric had no more patience.

  "I...I..."

  Aric heard Joron say something again, but he had come to the same conclusion. The king stared down on his constituent with his pitch black eyes. "You started the fire, didn't you? You were the one who started your own barn on fire. You let your wife die. Why?"

  The man shot a look in Joron's direction, then his gaze came back to the king. Aric was not surprised to not see any tears. "I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't. It simply happened. I was in the barn and, yes, I was drinking. The lantern fell over. I woke up to smoke and was able to get out, but you have to believe me. I didn't know my wife had gone in there."