Ice Dragon Tales

by Hurri Cosmo

  "Oh yes. Yes, sire." She scrambled to her feet. "Thank you, sire."

  He waved her away as he put Taiyo back down, swatting his butt and sending him to his nanny. But Taiyo had other ideas. Instead, he took a couple of steps and then veered off to wrap his little arms around Joron's thighs again.

  Both Aric and Nochi chuckled. "Well, Joron, looks like you have yet another admirer." The king was actually beaming.

  Joron gave the king a radiant smile as he reached down and took a small chubby hand in his own. The smile shocked Nochi with its power. He saw the king was not unaffected by it either.

  Nochi came forward to Joron's side. For some reason, he was feeling an odd sense of déjà vu and he sighed. Nothing could be further from the truth. He had not met this young man before. He knew that. "Time to go, Prince Joron, Prince Taiyo."

  Joron turned to him as he picked up the child.

  The king called out, "You're going to spoil him, carrying him all the time."

  Joron simply smiled and, once again, Nochi knew he had seen that smile before. Knew it. Nochi motioned for the front guard to lead, then he motioned for Joron to follow. He would have to figure this out before it drove him mad.

  * * * *

  Aric watched them all leave. He would have to finish up with the documents still lying on his desk as soon as he possibly could. He wanted to thank Joron properly in the privacy of his rooms, most specifically, his bed.

  It would still be hours though and his heart sank with that thought as the four of them left the room. Aric couldn't help but think the sunshine went with them.

  Chapter 15

  "Your highness!"

  The voice had come from outside the door to the king's chamber. Joron had been sitting on a chair near the fireplace, reading a book. Curious, he put it down, rose from the chair, and headed for the door.

  "Please, Prince Joron, stay back." Jibain, a guard Aric ordered to stand sentry inside the room, put up a hand. Joron complied by stopping where he was, but did not retreat back to where he had been. He was hoping the guard wouldn't insist he leave the room altogether. Aric had finished with his duties some time ago and had come back to his rooms and into Joron's waiting arms. But unfortunately, he had to leave again when summoned to the door by a much winded runner. Joron could not hear what the message was, but it seemed urgent. Aric had told Joron, in no uncertain terms, he was to remain within the room. Joron had been concerned with Aric's manner, worried there was a problem, but Aric assured him nothing was wrong.

  Jibain, who stood near the door, turned and backed up one step, with his hand already on his sword. The voice outside was lower then, as whoever had approached the door seemed to be discussing his reason with the guard.

  Suddenly the doors were opening. When the two main guards, who were grinning ear to ear, entered behind a small servant boy, Jibain stopped them. "Halt," he exclaimed. "State your business."

  "I...I...was told..." The servant boy, who was smaller than Joron, stammered and stuttered and dropped his gaze down to his shifting feet.

  "Speak up, boy!"

  Joron smiled when both he and the boy jumped at Jibain's gruff demand. He met the very scared eyes of the small boy, who smiled shyly back. He raised his head to look up at Jibain. "I was told to come for Prince Joron. He is to accompany the king on the ride to Eden Downs to capture the Cetin Gang."

  "The Cetin Gang?" Clearly Jibain was impressed.

  "Yes," the two guards said together. "Let's all go."

  Jibain looked back to the boy. "Eden Downs? That's where they are?"

  "Yes...yes, sir."

  "And we are all to go?"

  "I...I was told only to bring Prince Joron."

  Jibain quickly turned to Joron. "Do you know who they are...the Cetin gang?"

  Joron shook his head.

  "They are a group of rough men who have plagued our lands for a long time. They pillage and destroy, causing trouble and anguish wherever they go. We have laid traps they have easily avoided while flaunting their ability to stay free in front of our king's face. There is not one man, woman, or child in our kingdom who would not cheer loudly as they are brought to justice."

  Joron understood such things though his kingdom had thankfully been spared such problems. Of course, his kingdom was poor, not a real draw for pillaging. "So you have word they are in Eden Downs?"

  Jibain turned once more to the boy, who was nodding crazily. "Yes. Word came from a traveler. The king immediately sent for Prince Joron."

  Jibain reached down and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He sent you, lad?"

  "No...no. He sent another...who sent me." The look on the boy's face changed slightly.

  "No matter, boy. The Cetin gang may have finally met its fate today." He turned to Joron. "Do you want to go?"

  Joron's heart leaped to his throat. He had never been on a mission like this before. Of course, he wanted to go. "Yes. Oh please. Yes."

  "Good." He turned to the three by the door. "Boy, let's you and I take Prince Joron to the king's throne room."

  "No, I am to take him to the stables. The king will be there."

  "Of course, the stables. Fine, let's go." He motioned for the other two guards to move out and then reached out for Joron to join them. "Hurry or we will be left behind."

  Joron had to run to keep up.

  They arrived at the stables, which were very quiet. There was no one around at all. Immediately Jibain became suspicious, putting a hand out to stop Joron. "Did they already leave?"

  Suddenly there was movement. A lot of movement, as men dressed in black came charging out at them. Though two large guards, Jibain, and the boy had accompanied Joron, they were still easily overcome. Jibain ended up underneath three of the intruders, facedown on the ground, arms pinned to his back. The boy was effortlessly held by a fourth, an arm firmly around his small neck. The two guards were held at sword point by several others, and Joron was backed up to the wall, two black covered intruders holding him against it. The one on Joron's right spoke to him.

  "Prince Joron!"

  Joron looked at him and thought he looked like one of his own guards from Castle Blade Rain. "Y-yes?"

  "We're here to rescue you."

  "Rescue? What are you talking about?"

  "I have a message from King Diagus. Kinnabe told the king where you were and we are here to escort you safely home."

  From the corner of Joron's eye, he saw Jibain struggle beneath his captors. "No! Prince Joron! Please!"

  It was clear he was concerned. But these were Joron's men. Joron relaxed within their grasp and immediately he was released. "Release them," he said quietly. "Let them all go. They are good people and did not hold me prisoner."

  A few confused seconds passed but Jibain was allowed to come to his feet. He brushed the dirt from his uniform. The boy ran to Jibain and was pushed behind him. Joron smiled at the seemingly automatic response of Jibain's to protect. He sighed.

  Once again, the man who had spoken, spoke again. "My name is Delri, your highness. I am to take you to the clearing a few miles from here to meet up with King Diagus."

  Jibain started to protest, but Joron held up his hand to stop him. The underlying message was clear, though it came veiled. Joron had no choice. Kinnabe told Diagus. That could only mean one thing. Kinnabe was forced. He would no doubt be in prison and it would be up to Joron to release him. The message that wasn't conveyed was if Joron wanted Kinnabe to live, he would have to return to the castle Blade Rain. That was the true message. That was one hundred percent clear.

  Delri, of course, had no knowledge whatsoever of the relationship that existed between Joron and Diagus--or the one Diagus hoped to develop. This man also had no idea what Joron and Kinnabe had been doing together for a number of years now, putting themselves in danger along with other castle servants, helping the residents of Blade Rain. There was no reason for him to believe Diagus knew about that yet, but still, having Kinnabe in his brother's custody would not lead
to anything good.

  Joron had not thought about what would happen if he was delayed like this, not allowed to leave. Obviously his brother panicked, and who better to ask what was going on than Joron's constant companion and friend, Kinnabe. Joron should have anticipated this. Apparently Diagus's plan was to control him through Kinnabe.

  He closed his eyes, fully aware Delri was waiting impatiently, wanting to be off and away, waiting for a decision from his prince.

  Stupid. What decision? Like normal, he had no choice.

  He had to go back. But wasn't that what he wanted anyway? Now he truly would have to escape, no more halfhearted attempts.

  It was over now. And it was all good. He needed to watch to see how his brother did anyway, to make sure the people were taken care of, just like he had done all this time with his father. Relying on Aric even once for the kind of help he gave his people was weak and selfish on his part. And now he had been through the warehouses. He could no longer use that as an excuse. Of course, he had not seen the place where the medicines were made yet, but he probably wouldn't understand it anyway. The rest could simply be done through messages and runners. This was all for the best. Once he was outside the castle walls, for sure once he was off of Claymoor Doom land, he would not be chased. Aric would have no reason to do such a thing.

  So why was Joron's heart hurting? Why was he on the verge of actual tears? There was no question he was in too deep here in this great man's shadow and the damage it would do later on when he finally did go home, when in the future it was the king's decision to send him home.

  Well, he was very glad he would no longer have to face it. He would be free soon of it ever happening, because not only did the black garbed guards bring a message, they obviously also brought with them a plan.

  The plan had been to lure Joron here to the stables. A horse--oddly enough, not his own--was saddled and ready for him, and they would leave as quietly as this detail had come in.

  Simple.

  Efficient.

  Final.

  Enough of this.

  He had dressed, this time, in clothes made for him. They were still large, but the slippers fit perfectly. He sighed once again, actually missing the way the too big clothes of the king hung on him, the way they smelled... He nodded to Delri and without a word, walked over to the horse indicated for him. He looked over at Jibain, who had nothing but anger written on his face. Was he mad at Joron for leaving? Was he mad he had been overtaken so easily and left to live? Was he angry at the fact they used a boy, an innocent, to convey this message, putting the young lad in danger? Probably all of those things. Because he didn't know him nor did he know anything about why Joron had been in his kingdom, in his castle, right?

  But that wasn't true. Joron knew lines of communication ran deep and accurate in his own castle. He had witnessed it and used it on countless occasions. What made him think the same thing did not exist here, too? Servants were a close-knit family and tended to take care of their own. The people of Blade Rain Castle would risk their very lives for each other and, he dared to think, for him as well. He would do it for them. It was the reason he chose to hazard what he did for his people, only himself and no one else, because he never wanted anyone else to take the blame.

  However, Joron knew guilt would spread by association with him, just by the knowledge of what he did. Kinnabe would be the first to be suspected. Why had Joron thought the man safe?

  He sighed.

  Aric was a good king. Joron knew that now. He was the king Joron had hoped his father could have been. He was the king Joron hoped his brother would be. Once again Joron's heart skipped a beat. He was doing the correct thing, right?

  Of course he was. Kinnabe was too important to him and to the kingdom to allow Diagus to keep him imprisoned. It was also too risky to allow Diagus to question the man any more than he already had to have done. He hoped he was all right. Kinnabe would never have given away Joron's location without intense physical or mental torture. And if it came out what it was Joron and the castle servants had been doing all this time and Kinnabe knew about it, he would be executed immediately. Joron would not be able to stop it.

  Well, maybe he could.

  However, it would take promising something he would have great difficulty following through with. But for Kinnabe's sake, he would do anything. What was so distressful was Kinnabe knew it. It was yet another reason he was frightened for Kinnabe's sake. What would it take for Kinnabe to talk?

  "Where is Diagus... King Diagus?" The man himself was here. Is that where Aric had gone? To talk to Diagus? Was that why he had been so concerned and put the extra guard on Joron?

  Delri had walked with Joron to his horse. "He is in with King Aric, negotiating your release. But this was a phase two plan to spirit you out, in case he was unsuccessful."

  "You do understand I was not kidnapped, don't you?"

  "I only understand my orders from my king, your highness. I was to liberate you from your captors, then flee with you to the meeting place where we will wait for King Diagus."

  So Diagus was with Aric, huh? Where would that room be? Was it in the same room he held the sessions in? Most likely, and from here that room was far away. He had already made it out of the castle. There was no doubt this time he would make it off castle grounds and out of Aric's reach. Third time's the charm. His laugh sounded pathetic even to him. He did not want to think about it, because that thought alone made him dizzy. It was truly over and he would never have the opportunity of meeting Aric again. There would be no need. This intelligent, generous, possessive man would simply shake his head and give up on Joron because he was too hard to hold. He came with too much baggage, too many obligations. Obligations that weighed heavily on Joron every moment of every day and there were times he wished he could break from them and simply breathe. Instead he sighed yet again. He was here now, beside a horse already saddled and ready to go. As if on cue, the horse whinnied and stomped its hoof in anticipation of the hard ride he seemed to sense he was being employed for.

  Joron couldn't look back from where he came. In his mind's eye, he saw Aric rushing toward them, waving his arms, shouting orders Joron was not to be allowed to leave. He heard his mind whisper, now behind his closed eyes, Aric ordering Joron back to the king's room, back to the king's bed, ordered to be in it, naked and waiting.

  If he looked back, he would see none of that taking place, so he couldn't...

  He had to stop this. But it would be a long time before he could. As he mounted the horse, took the reins, and followed closely behind Delri, he knew he would always be waiting for Aric to stop him. He would always be expecting Aric to capture him again. But...

  But, in his occasionally sane moments, he knew it would never happen. Aric did not think that way. Joron would have to be content that for a few days he was intimate with a real king. He had been given a number of precious hours with a man he not only admired, but now aspired to emulate. He would have to be satisfied with having been in his presence for a short period of time and it would have to last for the rest of his life.

  Choice was not something he ever had much of and this deed, this act of defiance of Aric, was absolutely no different. But of course, it was something Aric would never understand or forgive. And that was what weighed the heaviest on Joron's mind. He was purposely, or so it would seem to Aric, hurting him. But he needed to save Kinnabe, and whatever happened after that, he would have to see.

  He was now seriously thinking he needed to escape Blade Rain as well. He had thought about finding the village his mother had left when King Oxys came for her. He thought if he went there, he could live a life that was no longer volatile, no longer unpredictable and unstable. He would see what kind of king Diagus would be and then make a decision, because the one thing he couldn't do, wouldn't do, was abandon the people of Blade Rain. In the meantime, he would inquire about that particular village. It would only make things easier if he had a plan of escape. It would make it easier
for having even the illusion of escape.

  * * * *

  "You dare to lay your hands on a king?"

  Diagus stood between two large men, who held tightly to his arms. There were two equally large men standing at the ready, directly behind them as well. They were all in a large room. Off to the sides were many small, intimate areas, circles of chairs, some ornate and hard, others soft and comfortable. These little areas were designated for conversations to take place with mediators and commoners prior to ever meeting with the king. They were designed to be discreet places, informal and relaxed. Most areas had thick rugs under them, which also aided in the discreetness of exchanges, muffling and absorbing voices. Small tables littered with candles made them become warm intimate places as well. However, a quick look around today saw that all of these areas were dark and deserted.

  At the end of the room, directly across from the huge double doors leading into it, was the throne of the King of Claymoor Doom. Aric Tamusi sat at the edge of that throne, giving off the aura of strength and power by his posture alone. This room was where he conducted most of his royal business with visitors, his castle servants, and his people, and had, in fact, done that very thing, with Joron in attendance, only hours ago.

  The throne itself was overly large and somewhat plain, but elegant in its plainness. It was said to have been made from wood that came from the old magical forests of Black Willows, which no longer existed. It had been rumored it gave the true blooded kings who had the guts to sit on it extreme wisdom and discernment. Aric didn't believe any of it. But it was not something he ever said out loud because he also knew those rumors made this room, the room this chair sat in, almost hallowed ground.

  The chair itself, although plain, did have an atmosphere about it that seemed to calm everyone who entered this Hall of the King. Along with being highly polished, the only real ornamentation was the back of the throne, which rose up high from the rest of the chair and deeply engraved into it was the royal family crest. Sitting, with Aric's height, his head still did not cover the crest, however his might have been one of the first to reach the bottom edge.