by Jeff Kish
The king places a hand to his chin. “And what of Angal Rohe?”
“Mark my words, Your Highness, we will find and execute that traitor. Even if Commander Talkem knows nothing, we have already arrested close to twenty members of his guild. The organization is in chaos, and the treacherous snake will soon be forced out from whatever rock he is hiding under.”
“Your words offer me hope,” the king says. “As you might guess, General, I have not been sleeping well. I worry for this kingdom and my subjects. I desire their safety and well-being.”
“You are a good ruler,” Graff says with a bow. “I had the privilege of serving under your father. I know he would agree.”
“You have my gratitude. You are dismissed, General.”
Graff exits the rustic meeting room, and, as the guard closes the door behind him, he resists the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. The discussion went better than expected, though his standing and political capital are rapidly deteriorating.
He finds his thoughts muddled as he recounts the conversation. Per the king’s own words, the runics are too great a temptation. Their power will incite desire and distrust between those who have runics and those who do not. Though transferring control to another commander would alleviate that, Talkem’s betrayal is precisely the reason he has yet to do so and stands as evidence that keeping the runics bound to himself was the right choice.
With that thought, he storms to the lower level of the barracks where the prison is housed. He enters and snaps his fingers at the guard. “Leave us.” The soldiers scramble to obey, hurrying from the room and leaving their only prisoner to Graff’s care.
“At last, the esteemed general graces my humble accommodations,” Talkem says from his dark cell. His hands are still locked in the air-absorbing shackles, and he has been stripped of his outer jacket and mask, his scarred face now plainly visible. He leans forward on his stool in eager anticipation.
Graff glares down on Talkem in disgust. “You’ve always pushed the rules, Thayo. But treason? This doesn’t suit you.”
“It does not,” he agrees. “General, I did not betray our nation.”
“Save it for your trial,” Graff spouts. “I’m not interested in your excuses. I want only to know what information you have before your execution.”
“Ah, yes, your desperate hunt for Rohe,” Talkem comments.
“I should hope you have more critical intelligence than that,” he says. “Your fellow conspirator will be caught eventually. Instead, tell me what you know about the earth shaper’s location.”
“Very well, but you will not take well to the news. Diamond’s friend crossed the border. He is in Alleria.”
“Alleria?” Graff balks. “That’s absurd!”
“All my messages are being decrypted as we speak, correct? You shall soon see that I speak the truth,” he maintains. “My hired scouts witnessed him boarding a smuggling vessel with his allies in Canterin. I even have resources in Alleria in pursuit, though they have yet to locate him.”
The general shakes his head in disbelief. “This isn’t possible. Diamond’s account stated this kid is a petty thief. How could someone like that finance a trip across the-?” Slowly, he realizes, “The Academy raid?”
“Precisely. It was within a few days of that incident when my scouts witnessed the runic’s departure.”
“Two weeks ago!?” The general rattles the cell wall in anger. “If the Allerians claim that runic, Thayo, it is on your head. Why the secrecy? Why would you withhold this information?”
“And what would you have done with it?” he challenges. “Move your forces into Alleria? Would our stubborn king have allowed you to violate his precious truce?”
“You dare to add insulting His Majesty to your list of offenses?” Graff bellows.
“Yes, that is the appropriate response for the general of the military,” Talkem says, “yet not one that is reflected in your heart. You view him as I do: young, naïve, and weak.” After a telling pause, Talkem asks, “No argument, General? Then it seems we can rid ourselves of platitudes and speak frankly with one another. We are in agreement, after all, that the Allerians must not secure one of our runics. This is why I engaged my resources to ensure his recovery.”
“Claim what you want about your intentions,” Graff counters, “but selfishly withholding crucial information from me is traitorous.”
“Please don’t mistake my words, General. I am not claiming that my actions were selfless,” he says. “After all, a secure nation benefits me as well, so I would have offered my runic to our nation’s defense. What I intended to do with the weapon on my own time is hardly relevant compared to the threat of Allerian possession. Would you not agree?”
“You truly deceive yourself with such hallucinations?” Graff bellows. “Your actions did nothing for increasing our national security. On the contrary, you may well have gifted the Allerians with a runic!”
“I am telling you, my actions have the best chance of securing it. Still, in an offer of goodwill, perhaps I should give you information you will not find in my encrypted messages.” With a dramatic pause, he reveals, “Alleria already has runics. The prince has secured several for himself.”
“How many?” Graff asks in alarm.
“I do not know.”
The general growls in frustration. “How did you come across that information?”
“Krypta contacts,” he replies. “They have no love for the crown at the present time.”
Graff plants his hand to his chin. “We must bring that earth runic back at all costs, before Prince Trapak catches wind of his presence.” He meets Talkem’s eyes and states, “You will turn your contacts over to me, Thayo. Prove yourself cooperative and your life will be spared.”
Talkem ponders this before reasoning, “My men have surely been alerted to my capture, which means they’ll treat all my messages as coerced. However, were I given my freedom, I could retrieve the wayward runic. Perhaps even an Allerian runic or two.”
“You have the audacity to suggest I release you?” Graff bellows. “Under those conditions, even if you retrieved any runics, you would bind them to yourself.”
“Better with me than the Allerians, right?”
Graff’s eyes narrow to slits. “We’ll see how stubborn you are, Thayo. Every man has a breaking point.” With that, he storms from the prison area, leaving Talkem alone in his cell.
“Yourself included, General,” Talkem says in quiet calculation.
* * *
Saleen quietly strolls amidst the tallest bushes in the garden when her expected guest appears from around the corner. “Di, your hair!” exclaims the queen with delight. “Is it almost as long as it once was?”
“It’s close,” she answers, playfully tugging at it.
“I just cannot believe it grows back so quickly!” Saleen continues to gush. “Di, you must absolutely never cut it again.”
Di clears her throat to reset the conversation and says, “I received your request to meet. Is everything okay?”
The queen’s quiet tone reflects her troubled spirit. “General Graff can no longer be trusted, Di, but my husband… he won’t listen to me. He is convinced the general is fighting for the good of the nation.”
Di glances around nervously. “Saleen, maybe you shouldn’t speak with me about this. If the general finds out about our rendezvous, he’ll certainly command me to relegate our entire discussion.”
“I have considered this,” she says, “and, yet, there is a part of me that wants him to know I’m watching him.” She places her hand on Di’s shoulder as her voice becomes authoritative. “You must help me, Di. I fear there is far more at stake than what my husband believes.”
“Help you?” she asks in confusion. “How?”
“Be my eyes and ears. Tell me if Graff is still loyal to the crown.”
“Sure he is,” she responds with uncertainty. “I mean, he’s always talking about stopping the Allerians and keeping the nati
on safe.”
“But is he loyal to the crown?” she stresses. “Does he believe in my husband and his treaty?”
“I… I think so. He’s not said anything to the contrary.”
Saleen isn’t convinced. “I agree the general cares deeply for this nation, but he views himself as the decision-maker for how best to protect our subjects. That responsibility falls squarely on Vinall and myself. We must decide what will keep our nation safe, and he must be our strength to carry it out.”
“With all due respect,” Di says, “Graff is a hardened veteran. He’s the general, right? Maybe you should focus on improving everyday life for your subjects and let him handle national security.”
“My husband is a veteran of war, too, you’ll recall,” she contends. “Even then, Vinall is the king. A nation without its hierarchy is not a nation at all. I need you to spy on him and report anything suspicious.”
“I just… I don’t…” Di starts. “I can’t do that, Saleen! The queen can’t just spy on the general, especially if the king isn’t aware, right? Besides that, I don’t want him to catch us conspiring like this. Just let him do his job.”
Stone-faced, the queen turns her back to Di. “No, I’m sorry, Di. I’m placing too much on you. You are a soldier now, I must remember that.”
“I’m not a soldier!”
“You have become one. It is clear where your loyalties lie.”
“NO! I’m not loyal to that madman!” Di insists, tears welling. “He took me from my home! H-He kidnapped me, and he…”
The queen meets the runic’s eyes. “Do you really believe that anymore, Di? Do you believe the general took you from your home… from your father? Do you hate his power over you and resist him at every opportunity?”
Di grabs the sides of her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t… I don’t know anymore…”
As her small frame trembles, she suddenly finds herself wrapped by her friend’s warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Di,” Saleen whispers. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
They find a bench and pause to soak in the peace of the garden. Di kicks her feet against the stone path and says, “Can I confess something, Saleen? Lately it feels like my hatred for him is waning. It’s almost like… I want what he wants.”
“And what is it you think he wants?”
“To keep Valvoren safe. To defend it from the Allerians,” she answers. “Whether I like it or not, I have the power to protect the people I love.”
Saleen softly asks, “But what of Era?”
Di’s heart sinks, but she takes a deep breath and says, “Graff made me hurt my friend, Saleen. I’ll never forgive him for that. And yet… there are days that I wouldn’t mind if the general captures Era, just so he could be by my side again. I miss him so, so much.”
Saleen places her arm around Di’s shoulders. “Never doubt your own strength, Di. There is much to regret about your situation, but you can be certain that you are not the same person who was protected by Era. You have the power to protect others, so also protect yourself. Do not let Graff destroy who you are.”
Di nods half-heartedly, telling herself the queen is right, but the desire long stirring in her heart has finally escaped her lips. She misses Era. She needs him, even if it means his capture.
Saleen offers a warm smile. “I’ll not ask anymore favors. You are my friend, Di. I do not wish to use you or place you at risk.”
“That’s good,” she says in relief. “I want to see you and enjoy your company! I want to know how you’re doing.”
“How I’m doing?” she asks. “My, if only there existed a simple answer for such a question.”
“I don’t mind if the answer is long,” Di warmly says.
“To be frank, I’m terrified,” she admits. “The general is taking greater liberties at his post, our people are fleeing the border villages for fear of an Allerian invasion, and all the betrayal surrounding the runics causes me to despair. Yet the worst of it all is that Vinall and I are forced to deal with the lords demanding a new queen, which, beyond my selfish regret, is an intense distraction for Vinall when there exist so many greater threats.” With a forced grin, she says, “That is how I’m doing.”
Di is appalled. “He’s not going to take a new queen, though. Right?”
“Of all I just said, is that really your greatest concern?” she asks with amusement. “The decision was made last night. I have one more month, Di. If I am not pregnant, I will be removed from my position.”
“They can’t do that!” she shouts. “You love him! He loves you!”
“It’s not about love, Di,” she contends. “You desire national security, do you not? An heir to the throne is such a matter.”
“He could name an heir, right? Just make his brother or uncle or anyone be the heir!”
“It’s not the same.”
“It is!”
“My first and most important duty is to produce an heir,” she softly says. “If I cannot do that, I have failed as queen. I am not fit for the throne.”
Di falls silent, no longer certain what to say. She watches her friend try so hard to be strong, but she can only imagine the pain she is suffering.
“This body is broken,” Saleen says. “Perhaps that’s why I care so much about the general and his actions. In truth, I will not be in a position to care much longer. It will no longer be my responsibility. And if that happens…” With determination, she says, “Di, once I have been deposed, please promise me you’ll do everything in your power to protect my Vinall?”
Di meets her gaze. “I will, Saleen.”
Warmth returns to the queen’s expression. “Thank you, Di. That means more to me than you know.” She lays a hand on her shoulder and adds, “Promise also that you’ll remain who you are, no matter what the general makes you do.”
“I’ll do my best,” she affirms.
The queen appears to be greatly comforted by her words, and they bid each other farewell. However, as Di leaves the private garden, she wonders about the premise of her oath, and whether the general is truly causing her heart to change or if she is simply shedding a personality that was never her own. She isn’t sure that she wants to know the answer.
* * *
“Oh, ho, ho!” Angal Rohe can’t stop himself from laughing hysterically at the news, and his belly laugh echoes throughout the receiving area of his hidden base of operations. “That Thayo would… oh, my, to be sitting in a prison cell! HO!”
The messenger glances uncomfortably at Rohe’s lieutenants, startled by the reaction. “Ermm… Yes, sir. He was found guilty by King Haran mere hours ago. His execution is scheduled at sunset, three days from now.”
“Execution? How delicious.” He waves his hand and says, “You’re dismissed. Get out of here.” As the messenger leaves, Rohe turns to his lanky lieutenant and exclaims, “What a riot! It seems Commander Talkem could no longer continue his ruse.”
“He played a clever game, but those slow oafs finally caught on,” Malof agrees. “He won’t be missed, though it was certainly effective having a commander as an informant.”
“Too true!”
Sreya watches her boss closely, knowing full well how to read through his outward reactions. Her leader is nervous. Scared, even, and she fights against her own welling anxiety.
“Eh, I suppose now we need to pack our things,” Rohe complains. “Thayo knew of this location, and, though they’d never be able to torture it out of him, he’s certain to tell them out of spite.”
“Which of our locations did we keep secret from him?” Malof asks.
“Drynga and Ashen.”
“Drynga is too populous… too risky,” Malof surmises. “We had best head to Ashen.”
“This is ludicrous,” booms Rohe’s third lieutenant. “We should gather our forces and strike. We have been waiting for this informant to show his face for a week, and now we’re on the move again. There is no guarantee we will find the other runic.”
�
�Tsk, tsk! Always so quick to bear arms, Nolen,” Rohe chastises.
“The military structure must be in chaos right now,” he continues. “Let us rally our troops and strike the capital. We’ll assassinate that old war bird and take his runics. Victory will be ours.”
“You underestimate him, Nolen,” Rohe sternly warns. “Now is not the time to strike.”
“It is our best and only chance!”
“No, no, our sympathizers are only growing as our propaganda machine is spreading,” he argues. “The people are losing faith in our glorious monarch, and the deposition of his sickly yet popular wife will only further gather them to our side.”
“But if Graff finds the last runic, all our efforts until now will have been neutralized,” Nolen claims. “If the military found out the commander, any progress he made now belongs to our enemies.”
“Talkem’s men are loyal, but, with their leader captured, most should defect to us,” Malof suggests. “If the military tried to buy his men, we would have heard of it. Still, to be certain, we must promptly spread word that we wish to purchase what he was after. At twice the value, no less.”
Rohe pats Nolen on the shoulder. “You leave the thinking to Malof, my friend. You stick to hitting things.” Nolen growls his disapproval, prompting a chortle from the leader. “That’s the spirit! Now, let us abandon this base immediately.”
“I’ll issue the order,” Sreya says, and she takes her leave. As she marches down the halls, she clenches her left fist while staring at the symbol emblazoned on her right palm. She is more than willing to sacrifice her hand in the name of the guild; she has offered her life in its service many times over, yet she finds herself angry that this is how it may end. Not a battlefield death, but by way of a technicality.
After barking marching orders to the squad leaders, she heads up the stairs to her private quarters and is surprised to find Pearl sitting in the windowsill. She shuts the door and reaches under her bed. “Pack up. We’re leaving,” she says as she pulls out her only traveling bag.