Kings of Ghumai- The Complete series Box Set

by D N Meinster

  Lady Simma interrupted their gathering, giving Doren an excuse to ignore Rikki’s question for the moment.

  “Look who finally showed up,” Lady Yveen spat.

  “Apologies for my lateness,” Empress Simma stated with a slight bow. “It seems I have missed the main confrontation. But I can report the elimination of the remaining Massku.”

  “Which of my points finally convinced you?” Yveen asked.

  “I bet you can deduce that one,” Simma tartly replied. She eyed Rikki. “It was you who finished it?”

  Rikki was able to give a slight nod.

  “Faunli is in your debt.” She turned to Doren. “And my apologies to you, as well. My brothers attempted to assassinate you. Their deaths are their own fault. Not yours.”

  “I wish—”

  Simma held up a hand to stop him. “We need not discuss it any further.”

  “There is a more pressing matter,” Yveen stated. “The Five Kingdoms are reunited after three hundred years apart. Are their old pledges to Aergo Tunsev expected to be upheld?”

  Doren almost fell over after hearing the question, and it was Rikki that kept him standing. If he was to be king, he was the one that would need to provide an answer.

  Simma raised a finger to Yveen’s face. “These questions do not need to be answered now. There are many to mourn and to celebrate. Politics can wait.”

  “Not all politics,” Aros spoke up. “I kinda made a deal with the Outerlings.”

  Several eyebrows among them went up.

  “When?”

  All were welcome for a feast in Castle Tornis that eve. The dining hall was overflowing, so most of the Faun army had to be set up in Treatis Square. They’d brought with them their own food and drink, so the kitchens only had to deal with the company of surviving volunteers.

  The Bellish had provided transport from the battlefield to the castle, and the Directorate even showed up in person to the celebratory dinner. They were joined at their table by leaders from other kingdoms, including Empress Simma, Lady Yveen, Loraya Lette, and Eloise Kellig.

  It was not as rowdy as the typical celebrations, since so much energy had been spent battling the Massku. But gallons of morseltea, alcohol, chocobrew, and other fine drinks were sucked up and spilled throughout the firelit hall. The Bellish had even brought a sampling of appange juice. Hulks of meat were cut up, fish were baked and served, and veggies were allocated to the smattering of Streamers.

  Many of the warriors were already sharing stories from the war. The Twileans were bragging that more than half of them were still alive. The Kytherans were mocking the Fauns for showing up after Neanthal had already been defeated.

  There was laughter and cheering, but also the occasional thrown punch. Yet for their first time in a room together after centuries apart, they all got along unexpectedly well.

  Doren watched most of it unfold while he was standing alone in a corner. Rikki remained in the Healer’s Sanctuary under Eruc’s care. Aros was up there as well, checking on Ratch.

  Maybe Doren should have stayed at her side, but he felt that he owed it to the survivors to pay them all a visit during this celebration. He was next in line to be king. There was no escaping that now. He either had to accept the responsibility or abdicate, and he was leaning towards the former, but not only because of Rikki.

  There were so many new complications in Kytheras. He couldn’t leave them all to some poor unsuspecting soul who happened to have Tunsev blood.

  And he owed it to his father to try. He hadn’t minded running away when Halstrom was alive, but since he’d been murdered, to abdicate was to dishonor him.

  It was strange how Halstrom had helped convince him to stay by dying. He wondered how his father would have felt if he knew that’s what it would take.

  Doren smiled to himself and then focused back on the crowded hall. He spotted the former High Council dining together. They were undoubtedly cursing him, but he suspected he may turn to one of them for advice at some point. Or at least, their successors might.

  He still needed to figure out who’d be replacing them. Rikki would obviously be part of the new High Council since she was the Grand Mage. But who else? Aros?

  “Why are you standing over here?” Aros snuck up on him.

  “Any change?” Doren checked.

  “Both still sound asleep,” he replied. “Come on.” Aros tugged at his arm before hurrying across the room.

  Aros squeezed into a spot at the table between Yveen and Loraya. Doren took an empty seat next to Eloise.

  “Shouldn’t we stand?” Eloise asked. “Aren’t you the King?”

  “He’s a prince until he’s coronated,” Yveen stated.

  Caterina took the chair next to Doren. “We better get planning.”

  “We’ll dig graves first,” Doren said.

  The table went silent.

  “Way to sour the mood,” Loraya teased.

  “They had a celebration after Neanthal’s first defeat,” Northo Batch recalled. “Right before the kingdoms parted. It must have been rather sad then as well.”

  “I can’t believe M’hadder’s gone,” Eloise whispered, chugging whatever was in her mug.

  Simma took it upon herself to change the topic. “How has Belliore had so many advancements in so few years?”

  “How has the rest of Ghumai had so few advancements in so many years?” Lodmac spat back.

  “I take it you expect us to share?” Maevus asked.

  “I was merely interested in what you have that we lacked,” Simma replied.

  “Intelligence,” Keisler stated.

  “But Aros lacks that and he does alright,” Yveen interrupted.

  There were several loud guffaws that broke the rising tension.

  “You make fun of him, you’ll have to answer to me,” Loraya warned.

  Aros slid his hand atop hers. “I don’t think she’s kidding.”

  “How is our savior?” Lestrapel inquired.

  “Resting,” Doren replied.

  “Is she the last mage?” Lodmac asked.

  Doren glanced at Loraya. “Depends if there are any left in Terrastream.”

  Loraya shrugged. “I’ll get back to you.”

  “Are you open to sharing, though?” Simma asked of the Bellish.

  “Why do you think we all came here?” Lestrapel replied. “Ghumai is reunited. There is no longer null space between us. And I am certain we are all interested in each other’s kingdoms.”

  Doren could tell the others at the table were in agreement with the statement. Having been to all the other kingdoms already, he was probably the least enthused over such possibilities.

  “My main concern is migration,” Lodmac spoke. “We can’t have you lot stumbling into Belliore without precautions. It could be dangerous.”

  “I can’t foresee any of my people running to escape the land they’ve known for their entire lives,” Simma replied.

  “Kytherans have known only desert,” Doren stated. “And they’ll all consider themselves your saviors. You are right to be concerned.”

  Lodmac smirked in satisfaction.

  “I just want to go to Terrastream,” Aros said.

  “We can all tell,” Yveen grumbled.

  “Terrastream’s still at war,” Loraya told them. “The monarchists and traditionalists won’t stop fighting just because the unseen lands can now be seen.”

  “Perhaps Faunli might intervene,” Simma suggested. “We have experience with civil wars.”

  Yveen stroked her chin. “The solution is obvious. For peace to prevail, Ghumai must be united politically.” Her eyes focused on Doren. “The kingdoms must uphold their oaths to King Aergo.”

  Lestrapel’s expression conveyed how absurd he thought the idea. “We did not come here to submit ourselves to an outsider’s rule.”

  “The Twilight Islands remember their oath,” Eloise spoke up and pointed a finger at Doren. “We serve the heir of Tunsev, the King of Ghumai.”


  Doren tried not to react as his stomach began to churn. These proclamations would only divide them. He needed to say something to preempt these loyalty pledges, but he couldn’t think of the words.

  “We will not serve,” Simma declared. But after a moment, she added, “But perhaps we could partake in a partnership.”

  “A directorate for all of Ghumai,” Keisler verbalized the idea.

  “Even you have a leader on your directorate,” Yveen stated. “If there is to be one, Doren must lead us.”

  “I’m not volunteering,” Doren tried to interrupt.

  Eloise jumped onto her feet, mug still in hand. “The Twilight Islands votes for Doren Tunsev.”

  Simma stood. “Faunli will heed the rightful King, Doren Tunsev.”

  “Loraya,” Aros nudged her.

  Loraya gradually pushed herself up from her seat. “Should you be just, fair, and respectful of our ways, the traditionalists will honor the oaths of our ancestors.”

  Doren was touched by her pledge, seeing as how Loraya was predisposed to despise kings and was still at war with one. Was she doing it just for Aros? Or did she truly value the harmony that might come of it?

  The Bellish Directorate remained speechless for minutes. Northo was the first to break their silence.

  “Our records are clear. We made the same pledge to King Aergo that all the other kingdoms of Ghumai made.”

  Lestrapel tapped his fingers on the table. “It is not my intention to allow Belliore to isolate itself once again. So, provisionally, we accept this proposition.” He raised a finger. “But do not think this means we surrender our autonomy.”

  “It’s settled then,” Yveen said, rising. “Doren, you will lead a government of Ghumai.”

  His hands were trembling, so Doren interlocked his fingers to try to bring them under control. Here was another position being thrust upon him. Not simply King of Kytheras, but leader of an entire continent. He’d only begun to accept that he could take his father’s throne. But now they were expecting him to fill in for King Aergo himself. He wanted to give in to the fear; to tell them no; to beg them to choose someone else.

  But Aros was grinning at him, his eyes lit up with genuine excitement. His friend’s confidence and courage seemed to transfer themselves through his gaze.

  Aros believed in him. Rikki believed in him. He didn’t let them down when they battled Neanthal. And he wouldn’t now.

  Doren finally got to his feet. As he stood, he realized most of the dining hall had gone quiet. They were all listening to him.

  “I never wanted to be king. When I visited your lands, I had no desire to rule over them. Even going forward, I will not rule them. I will only advise. I will not order. I will only request. I recognize the challenges we face, and I expect all of you, at this table, and in this room, to help me beat them, just as we did Neanthal.”

  An unanticipated cheer echoed through the room.

  “I accept this designation. I will be your King. I will lead your government.”

  Aros rose with a glass in hand. “To King Doren!”

  “King Doren!” the room shouted back.

  “King Doren,” Doren sighed as they drank to his name and finally let loose.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Grief

  It took over a deck to clear the plains on Kytheras’ border, even with the assistance of Bellish technology. The fallen Massku were removed, with some taken for study and the rest dumped into the Unending Seas. The peacekeeper remains were returned to the kingdom that created them. And the men and women that had given their lives were buried there. Graves were constructed on the spots of their deaths. Their names would live forever on in these stone monuments, and future generations would know that a second Dark Reign was prevented by these heroes.

  Aros walked through the field of gray and black stones. He skimmed the names as he passed, his mood turning more somber with every one that he recognized.

  It was midday by the time he reached the five furthermost graves. He didn’t have to take the long way, but he chose to spend time amongst those that had sacrificed themselves for this new world they lived in.

  He remembered when the place he was standing in had been nothing but an ocean of sand. When he looked down now, he saw only vibrant green grass; plains that would not have remembered the blood that had been spilled there had it not been for the abundance of stones. And not far from him would have been a door. The Door. The most disconcerting monolith that overlooked the city of Kytheras. But it was gone, leaving an unobstructed view of the sky and the kingdoms beyond.

  Aros knelt down and reached out for the grave in front of him. M’dalla’s name had been carved in the stone. He’d said some words as they’d buried her, but though he couldn’t remember what exactly they were, he knew they could not have been sufficient. He owed her his life time and time again. It was a debt he would never be able to repay.

  The friendship he had with M’dalla had changed his trio’s relationship with the Roamers. It allowed them to work together toward a cause they were both seeking. They might have wound up killing each other if not for their willingness to become a team.

  He still wore her cloak, not only because it allowed him to shift, an ability he was becoming more proficient in, but because it reminded him of her. She’d gifted it to him, and in return, he’d given her his armor. He only wished it had held up better against Neanthal’s sword. But even the Bellish couldn’t have predicted the Beast’s true strength.

  She was buried in his armor, and he would wear her cloak to honor her. It was only right.

  Aros wiped away a tear and moved on to the next grave.

  Slythe Tunsev had been royalty and a relative of Doren’s at that. He was also M’dalla’s boyfriend. Though he hadn’t died on the battlefield, he deserved to be buried next to the woman he loved. So his remains were returned from Terrastream, and he was put to rest next to his girlfriend. Though he hadn’t died at Neanthal’s hand, he worked in opposition to him since donning Amelia’s cloak. He deserved this placement as much as any other around them.

  Azzer Skye’s name was sculpted into the stone next to Slythe. The mage from another age had been one of the last in all of Ghumai. He could’ve lived another hundred years had Neanthal not slain him. Losing him was a significant blow to their future.

  Yuurei’s name was on the adjacent stone. Though his body had been incinerated, and his cloak had met the same end due to Rikki’s magic, it did not feel right to only honor three Roamers at this locale. So a gravestone was carved for him, and another was carved for Zeniri.

  The Roamers had failed Amelia, but they had not failed Ghumai. They could not stop the release of Neanthal, but they did stop the Beast himself. For that, they deserved to be at the forefront of this newly constructed graveyard.

  “Thank you,” Aros said, knowing the war might have ended very differently without them.

  He bowed his head and spun in place.

  His location changed as he shifted, but the atmosphere did not. He was in another cemetery. This one was older, with most of the graves still buried in sand.

  Aros’ chest tightened as he moved to the section with newer headstones. It was his first time visiting. Part of him didn’t want to be there, but he felt as is if he owed it to her. He’d missed her funeral, after all.

  He was able to make out her name even when he was yards away. To read it still hurt. To remember what had happened still caused heartache. No matter how much time had passed, he would always miss her.

  Aros got on his knees in front of the headstone and read her name: Leidess Keru.

  All of the men responsible for her death were dead. Hatswick, who had ripped her soul from her body in an attempt to free the Beast, was no more. Neanthal, who had tainted her being and corrupted the Grand Mage, had been destroyed. This probably did not bring her peace, as she did not need it. She was in Magenine’s Bastion. He’d even spoken to her since then. But it brought him peace.


  Aros knew he was not the cause of her death, but he had nonetheless failed her. If he’d done all he could to prevent her dying, he’d be in a grave right next to her.

  And he felt guilty, not only because he’d failed, but because he was moving on from that failure. He had a girlfriend. He had multiple new homes. He was celebrating more than he was mourning.

  “I don’t want to forget you,” Aros moaned as tears fell from his cheeks and evaporated on the dry sand.

  It was a new world and so much was going on. Leidess could never be part of that. She was stuck in a past that was being erased by time.

  He had never wanted to live without her, yet that had become the basis of his present.

  Each day, that last moment they shared in Faunli became more dreamlike. The sound of her voice dulled. That look she would give him became more blurry.

  He found himself dwelling over her loss less and less. It didn’t feel right to move on, yet he was doing it anyway.

  If the Goddess was still speaking to him, he would’ve asked for another moment with her. But he hadn’t heard a word from Her since Neanthal’s destruction.

  Aros knew he’d never hear from Magenine again just as he’d never hear Leidess’ voice again. They’d left Ghumai to find its way without them. The Goddess would no longer exploit a loophole to interfere. Leidess would not come back to comfort him.

  All he had was this grave. And a future that would take him far from it. One that might even make him forget it.

  When his crying finally let up, he realized he had another stop to make and another apology to give.

  Aros laid a hand atop her tombstone before shifting away.

  When he was done spinning, he was in front of his home. He wasn’t sure if his mother was inside or at the stables, but he wasn’t going inside anyway. Aros took the short trip next door to the nearly identical house and knocked.

  Less than a minute later, the front door swung open and a girl shorter than Aros with straight red hair stood in the doorway.