Lara mimics his reaction but manages to smile. “They are just men. They have chosen to fight for Sentra and that does not make them any less so.”
Pete drives away his thoughts and chuckles. “Sorry, Miss Lara, I didn’t mean to worry ya. Just flapping my trap, dat’s all.” He sighs, “Well, I guess I won’t ‘ave ta worry about it for too much longer now, will I?”
“I don’t understand.”
He puts his hands on his waist and lets out a deep sigh. “I’ve been in Verdana all my life. I think it’s time for a change of scenery. From what I ‘ear, there’s a nice town on Jewel—Phyrre’s the name—where me and the little lady can retire.”
Lara smiles. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, Pete.” She crosses her arms. “And where is my sister?”
Kae retreats from the back room with a sack of barley and some corn. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” She dumps the grains onto the floor and dusts off her hands. “There. Now let’s get these goods home. My mouth is already watering from the thought of tomorrow night’s dinner.”
Lara sniffs. “What’s gotten into you? When I left you a couple of hours ago you were, well, you weren’t so … happy.”
Kae smiles at Pete and shrugs. “I’ve just decided that I’m going to rejoice in what I do have, instead of whining about what I don’t. There are just some things that I can’t change, but that’s not going to stop me from changing the things that I can.” She stretches and then, bending her knees, lifts the two sacks of grain onto her shoulders. She blows a stray hair out of her face. “Let’s get this load on the horse while I still have enough strength to carry it.” She strides out the door into the declining bustle of patrons and venders, signaling the passage of the day into the night. Lara waves to Pete and then follows her sister.
* * *
Lightning streaks across the sky, the ensuing thunder accentuating the desperate cries. Blinding flashes of light temporarily divide the abysmal blackness of the night, the ruddy residue sizzling with uninhibited power. Three cloaked figures stumble through a maze of lifeless bodies, the bloody remains strewn across the rain-beaten path. Fires consume all that has been utterly untouched by the bite of deathly steel. Horrific wails escape the sore throats of those being burned alive. Their charcoaled remains depicting the utter destruction of humanity in the wake of a vengeful ruler and her chaotic wrath. Black-armored soldiers ransack the streets, the pale moonlight shining on their blood-soaked swords. And the three hooded guardians continue to run: one clings to the sleeping bundle nestled within its arms, another carries the half-awake child, and the other leads the eldest boy. They cross the raging river and hurry down a stony flight of stairs….
“Seize them! They are getting away.” The woman remains featureless, but malice permeates through her words. She stands tall at the top of the stairs, barking orders to her men. Her finger points to the half-awake boy, as if trying to enchant him with this simple gesture. And perhaps the enchantment would have worked had he seen her face.
They are at the water’s edge, a boat awaits. The tormented waves crash against the creaking hull, swelling over the sides. The salty water stings the tender skin of their tear-soaked faces. The figure carrying the half-awake child places something around his neck and then hugs him tightly before delivering him into the hands of those onboard the vessel. Immediately, the boat breaks free from the harbor, those on board silently watching as their lives are being ripped from them. There are other children huddled along the decks of the vessel, all orphans. Each is as equally frightened and confused as the three children who just boarded, their cloaks pulled about them as if finding reassurance in the damp fabric. There are adults as well, but the half-awake child keeps his eyes on the shore. The three figures climb into another much smaller boat. One stands arm outstretched. The older boy standing next to him calls out, but his words are swallowed by the pounding of the waves.
The roaring wind and raging sea seem to quiet just long enough for the half-awake boy to hear the words of the figure who had carried him to safety. “Don’t separate.” She sings goodbye. The wind takes hold of her hood but then the scene fades. Mother. Mother….
“Mother!” Chase sits up in the bed. The torrential rain pelts the windows, pouring down from the heavens as the sweat beads across his warm skin.
Tom stirs in the bed next to Chase’s. He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Whatcha screamin’ an’ hollerin’ ‘bout, huh?” He rises and stretches his arms over his head.
Chase wipes off the sweat from his forehead and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I had a nightmare.”
Tom sniffs and lays his head back down on his pillow. “Well, why don’t ya have them a little quieter next time, eh?”
Chase leans over and places his chin in his hands. “Only, I think it’s more than that. I think it means something.”
Tom props himself up on his elbows. “Look, that’s fine and dandy and all, but if ya want ta leave come morning, I suggest you get some sleep.” He once again lowers his head back onto the pillow.
Chase sighs and gets back under the covers. After a few moments of staring up at the exposed beams of the ceiling, he once again sighs. He turns over, trying to find a comfortable position. He closes his eyes but they open just as quickly. He listens to the rain falling down upon the roof. The hiatus between the pitter-patter of the individual droplets lengthens until the rain stops altogether. He sighs. He impatiently drums his fingers against the mattress. He rolls over in bed again.
Tom reluctantly peels open his eyes and purses his lips. After much futile labor in trying to ignore Chase’s insomnia, he finally sits up. He sighs and drops his shoulders. “So ya want ta talk about it?”
Chase rises and crosses his legs. “Do you know who your parents are, Tom?”
“Yes. And they are both dead, God rest their souls.”
“I never knew mine. But I have dreams about them. But they are hooded. I can never see their faces. In the dreams, we are running from something, someone. And there is someone else, a woman I think. And there is a man that I feel I should know, like his image is right in front of me but it is unclear as well. And we escape, but throughout all my life I think that I have continued running.”
Tom nods. “The question is: will ya ever stop—running, that is?”
Chase looks up at Tom. Even in the dim light he can see the sincerity on Tom’s face. He sighs, “I don’t know if I can.”
“To stop, turn, and face yer opponent is a conscious choice only ya can make. Just keep in mind that this thing, whatever it is, will continue to chase ya ‘til ya confront it.”
Chase looks down at his hands. “And then what? Just wait for this thing to come out of the shadows with a white flag and an open hand? It’s not as simple as it sounds.”
“Perhaps not, but how long do ya think ya can endure the race? We are only human, with human limitations. What happens when ya become exhausted an’ this thing catches up with ya, ya being barely able to resist the pull of gravity to topple over where ya stand? To have run yer entire life, to eventually lose the fight that ya wasn’t ready for. Why not set yer own terms?” Tom sighs, “Look, Chase, I’ve only just met ya, but I’ve met many people like ya, mahself included. Perhaps, whatcha are running from is yerself.”
Chase stares at Tom surprised at the depth of his words, but he isn’t about to insult this man just because his first impression deviated from what he now thinks of him. He had also made a similar assumption about Old John, which has also proved to be quite the opposite. Due to their rugged appearances, he had thought that it also reflected a somewhat feebleness of mind. And hard to admit, he had also been somewhat scared of them. He laughs inwardly at the thought. There is no doubt that they can hold their own in a fight, but the kindness they have shown him proves his senses to be wrong, again. Chase can feel a knot in his chest that can only be shame. If he was so quick to judge others based on their appearances, how is he any better than those flagrant idiots that Old Joh
n is so wary of? Up to this point, he has never been able to fully express his feelings, not even with Kae, but he feels as if he can trust this stranger. Without realizing it, he has already told this man things that he wasn’t even aware that he felt. He has already revealed that much, and he sees no point in holding back now.
He runs his hand through his hair, the black strands glistening in the moonlight. “Perhaps, I am. Perhaps, I’m not. Either way, I feel … trapped. That no matter how fast and how far I run, I’ll just end up back where I started. Which just makes the running pointless, but I’d rather do that than do nothing.”
Tom nods. “Is where ya started from really all that bad?”
Chase puts his hands behind his head. “No, it’s just that I keep on thinking that there is something more. There should be something more.”
“Not everything is as it seems, and perhaps whatcha are looking for has been right in front of ya all along.” Tom scratches his head. “Ya came from the south, right?”
Chase furrows his brow. “What? Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well then, ya must have seen the Emerald Castle, or not, rather if ya haven’t realized it.”
Understanding sweeps across his face. “Yes … the hill that is not a hill.”
Tom chuckles. “Exactly. When I was a young lad like yerself, my first assignment as a sailor in the Assyrian Royal Navy—this was back when the kingdoms were united mind ya—was to be part of the unit that would escort King Avram and Queen Alysia to the Emerald Castle. Not one of us sailors has been on Smithee before, and all we knew of castles was the kind made out of stone, mind ya. We were told that if we went into the forest, we have gone too far—why we didn’t have someone with us to point out the hill slash castle I do not know—so we reach the forest and have to retrace our steps. So we traipse around this hill for hours, in the hot sun, sweating like hogs in the meat market. And then, finally, we notice the door.”
Chase laughs. “You’d think that King … the king and queen would know where their own home is.”
“What do ya mean? Oh, no no no no. King Avram and Queen Alysia rule Laentus. The rulers of Smithee are King Albert and Queen Emalee.” Tom cocks his head. “Ya don’t know much about politics, do ya?”
“I don’t know anything about politics.”
Tom crawls underneath the covers and yawns. “Let’s make a deal. I will tell ya all I know….”
“About politics?”
“About anything. I will tell ya all I know if ya promise to go to bed and not bother me until morning. Deal?”
Chase lays his head on the pillow and yawns as well. “Deal.”
CHAPTER NINE
The morning sun filters into the hotel room through the gauzy curtains as tiny dust particles gently dance in the warm glow. The light spills across the wooden beams of the floor, the shadows receding under the trundle beds and hiding in dim corners. The song of the birds welcomes the bright new day after a prolonged series of rainstorms and thickening clouds had served to dampen the usual happiness consistent with the onset of spring. This season of rebirth has been present for two months and there have only been a handful of days graced by the sun. But even those days were darkened by circumstance. Along with the arrival of verdant fields, came the birth of a war that sought to once again threaten the security of the Ilian peoples. Families were torn apart, emotions were running high, and mistakes were made. But he has to make do with what he has and live with what he has done. He must continue.
Both Tom and Chase have been up since the crack of dawn and are now making the final preparations for their journey. Chase looks up from pulling on his boots and puts his introspections aside when Tom whistles to get his attention. Tom throws him an extra pack. “Here. Blanket, water jug, rope, and switchblade—all the provisions required for a journey in a handy little backpack.”
Chase catches it and slings it across his shoulders. Both men make final adjustments on their gear, and with a silent nod they head out the door and embark on their adventure.
The metal gate lowers behind them, the raucous holding a tone that seems to say, Thanks for visiting, now get out. Tom slaps Chase on the back and laughs. “Well, boy, let’s head out, shall we?”
Chase nods and follows Tom around the walled city in a path directed north towards the Indigo Sea. Tom turns his head. “Well, ya held up yer end of the bargain, an’ I’m a man of mah word.” He gathers his thoughts and continues, “Now, first things first.” He clears his throat. “Sorry to deceive you, but the common tongue of these parts leaves my throat sore if I exercise it for extended amounts of time. My apologies for having now to revert to my native language of Laentian.”
Chase looks nervously around him. To employ the common language of Smithee as if it were his own, Tom hinted at truths of which he could not completely grasp but could at least understand the implications of. Without pretense, he questions, “Are you a spy?”
Tom shrugs nonchalantly. “In a sense, but in these times of war, who isn’t? And as to your next question of who I really am—I am Tom. I make a living as a merchant seaman of sorts, but I live for the adventure. Some consider us pirates, but who else has enough command of the sea to withstand the black hordes of Sentra? You may counter that the Assyrian Royal Navy patrols the waters, but their glory faded along with the power of the kingdom, stalwartly waiting in the mists for their legendary savior who will never come. I had been a member of this fleet operating on borrowed glory but soon became disillusioned by the hypocrisy of it all. I set out on my own, finding work where I could and surviving on sheer force of will. I currently act as a messenger, and of this matter I will speak no more. Last night we made a bargain, so let’s get on with it.”
Chase sighs as he weighs his options. He can enlist the aid of this deceptive man who has all but outright admitted to being a brigand engaged in clandestine activities, or he can wash his hands of him and continue on by himself. Given the intrinsic peril of such a tentative relationship and his own inherent lack of direction, neither prospect seems rather appealing. Tom, however, has a boat and is willing to guide Chase in his quest, perhaps too willing, but Chase is not presently concerned with Tom’s reasons for doing so. There awaits the possibility of locating another eager boatman, but frankly he doesn’t want to take the time to look. As far as he is concerned, the sooner he gets off Smithee the better. Otherwise, he would change his mind and never leave. He gathers his courage to confront the heart of his worries. “Should I expect to find a knife in my back?”
Tom turns, allowing Chase to see the truth evident in his eyes. “I will not lie to you. Should you betray me, my vengeance will be swift. I do not take you on lightly. My mission grows ever urgent as this war presses on, but there is something about you that piques my interest.”
Chase involuntarily clutches his talisman. Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but it will have to do. Adjusting his pack, he nods. “The day shortens. Let’s be on our way for I am eager to be off this continent. I have much to learn, so if you are still game, please introduce me to the world.”
“Before we can delve into cold hard politics, a little history lesson is required.” He makes sure that Chase is listening and then he turns forward and clears his throat.
“At one time, centuries ago but after the Great Flood, all the kingdoms—Laentus, Jewel, Gaelith, and Smithee—were united under one sovereign, Lord Donovan of Ilia. His wife was Lady Gwendolyn of Ilia. Sentra was not a barren wasteland as we know it today, but a thriving seat from which Lord Donovan ruled. There was, of course, never absolute peace, but there were times more peaceful than others. The Lord and Lady had four sons, all of whom died in various skirmishes around the world. So when Lord Donovan died and with Lady Gwendolyn passing away soon after him, there was no one to legitimately receive the throne. His two brothers, King David of Jewel and King Lanacan of Laentus, however, survived the deceased high king. They fought over who should rightfully take the crown and become
the high king of Ilia, thus beginning the Lion Wars.”
“I’ve read about that, but I didn’t know that they were brothers.”
Tom clears his throat. “Yes, well, they ended up dead within a few short months of the commencement of the war. Well, technically King David disappeared and his body was never found, but I do not doubt that after three thousand years he is dead.”
“No, neither do I.” Chase’s brow is furrowed. “How come the war didn’t end with the death of the two kings?”
“The Lion Wars became a family legacy really. Son after son after son took up their swords against each other. Warfare became a sort of tradition for the two kingdoms.”
Chase cocks his head. “So the kingdoms of Laentus and Jewel are tied by blood? Is that what the Dragon Treaty was based upon?”
Tom furiously shakes his head. “Let me clarify. The current line of succession for Jewel does trace back to King David, but the Laentian nobility does not. Have you heard of the Massacre of Neptune?”
Chase nods slowly. “Yes, I remember now. About fifteen hundred years ago, the Laentian castle was raided and the entire royal family was murdered.” He shivers at the thought. “The assassin was captured and beheaded. Despite the gruesome end of the family’s reign, the coronation of the new king was rather peaceful. Following the rules of ascension, the crown was passed down to the Duke of Assyria.”
Tom smiles back at Chase. “Well done. But alas, those rules of ascension of which you spoke are obsolete now. As a result of the war and the ensuing conquest, the major houses expanded until all the dukedoms were integrated into one entity, hence the substituted and now universally accepted nomenclature of Assyria. Just imagine the havoc that would result if there were a repeat of the Massacre of Neptune. With no clear line of succession, the kingdom would dissolve.”
“Have the kings not realized this?” Chase regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. He wishes he had phrased his question better.
Book One: Beginnings Page 6