by MJ Blehart
“Then go! I want you on your way before sunset.”
Nadav arose, glanced at Cam, then at Dak. He bowed to Lyrra-Sharron.
“I am yours, Lyrra-Sharron,” he said with surety.
She nodded to him, and Nadav departed from the room.
“Andim, Kallan, go and get the Baron. Bring him to me. After that, assign a small company of trustworthy raiders to act as the Baron’s escort when he departs. Dak, Cam, see to splitting all of our people up, and prepare them to go. We have work to do. You are dismissed.”
*****
Cam followed Dak from the old tavern, and they walked swiftly across the grounds of the village. Cam observed the various Falcon Raiders, some practicing with weapons, a few patching up the run-down buildings, some performing other necessary activities. Andim and Kallan together entered the building serving as the kitchen, to fetch the Baron.
Cam was led to the old store where the maps were kept. This had become a makeshift strategy room. Dak unfolded a map.
“If we march south, we can catch this crossroads here,” The Falcon Raider second stated without preamble, tracing a line along the map he’d unrolled. “We must be wary of soldiers in the area, amassing on the Medaelian border.
“Is this plan really such a good idea?” Cam began.
“From here we take this road west. I think if we’re careful, and we have good scouting, we should...”
“What about this plan?” Cam interrupted. Dak became eerily silent.
“This isn’t right,” Cam pressed.
“She is our leader. What she says, we do.”
“No,” said Cam. “This is wrong, and you know it!”
“Wrong, Cam Murtallan? This is what she has been planning for all along.”
Cam shook his head. “No, Dak. This is not what we signed on for. You and I both know the threat of the Medaelians. I never met him, of course, but I know what kind of tyrant Wilnar-Medira can be! He raped my country, left it in ruins, and would not think twice about doing the same to Sharron!”
“If Lyrra-Sharron believes he is of little or no threat, then she is likely correct.”
“How can you say that?” asked Cam. “She was nearly hysterical! She wants the Crown so much that she’s willing to sacrifice everyone and everything to get it!”
Dak rounded on Cam, threatening. Too calmly, he spoke, “Listen to me, Cam Murtallan, and listen well. Lyrra-Sharron Anduin is our leader. We follow her. If she says march, we do. If she says die, we will. We’re not blind. I am not blind.”
Cam straightened his posture, staring at the Falcon Raider second, standing as imposingly as Cam had ever seen him. After several tense seconds, Dak turned back to the maps. Clearly, Cam noted, there was something more going on.
“We can’t just drop this,” Cam pressed, softening his tone. “This cannot be right. She’s going to tear this Kingdom apart with what she’s doing. We can’t let her destroy Sharron. We can’t let her destroy herself.”
Dak continued to study the maps, ignoring Cam. Something tickled at the back of Cam’s mind, and he changed his approach.
“Don’t you care about Lyrra-Sharron, and what happens to her?”
Swiftly, Dak grabbed Cam by the front of his vest, expressing greater emotion than he’d ever shown before. Cam found himself off his feet, and went limp as he was slammed into the nearest wall and held fast.
“What I do, I do for Lyrra-Sharron. Make no mistake, I care more for her than I do for myself!”
Cam didn’t struggle, didn’t say a word, just stared. Dak realized what he was doing, let him down to his feet.
The Falcon Raider second proceeded to a chair next to the map table, and slowly sat, his back to Cam.
Cam paused, watching Dak. The man just sat still, said nothing. In a moment of clarity, the Sorcerer figured out the veteran soldier’s true motivations. He moved closer to Dak. “So that’s why you’re in this. That’s why you are as protective of her as you are. That’s what you’ve avoided telling me. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
The question was met only by silence. Clearly, the emotion was not something Dak cared to share.
“Does she know?” Cam continued. “Does she have the slightest inkling about this?”
There was still no response. Dak did not move.
Cam came around the table, stood before his friend. The emotion in the hard man’s eyes was unmistakable.
“No,” said Dak softly, eyes dropping to the floor. “She cannot know.”
“Why not?”
“Would I be able to serve as her second-in-command if she knew? It cannot be.”
“That explains it, then,” said Cam, pulling up a chair and sitting down, adjusting the sword at his side as he did. “The cold professionalism. The stern demeanor. The unswerving loyalty.”
Their eyes met a moment, before the veteran soldier turned his gaze towards the floor again.
“I’ve never been in love,” Cam shared. “Then again, no one’s loved me since my parents’ deaths. But I do know that love is the most powerful emotion there is. Can you simply bury that deep inside and never let it out?”
Dak looked to him again. “I have thus far. I will continue to do so. But I will protect her, Cam. I will not leave her side.”
“I think I understand. But I hope it doesn’t tear you apart. For what its worth, Dak, I’m sorry.”
Dak simply looked into Cam’s face, a storm of unspoken emotion in his eyes. Cam understood why Dak would not speak, and let it be.
“Maybe you can still talk some sense into her,” remarked Cam, taking up a new tactic.
Dak shook his head. “She has made up her mind. There is no changing her course when she is like this.”
Cam stood. “I’m worried. Everything I am tells me she cannot continue this way...it will only lead to destruction. This choice she has made could be her last. She is choosing the wrong path.”
Cam could not miss the obvious struggle Dak was having over his emotions. The veteran warrior opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, and just began to shake his head.
“We can’t just let her do this,” Cam would not relent. “We have to persuade her that this is wrong. What happens if the Baron betrays her?”
Dak had an answer rather quickly. “Either she is captured…and a civil war breaks out…”
Cam picked it up. “Or she is killed. One way or the other, the Medaelians, if they really are threatening at the border, will likely invade in the ensuing chaos. Sharron will be torn apart.”
“If the threat of the Medaelians is real,” remarked Dak.
“You doubt it? The Medaelians are dangerous and unpredictable. Even if the Baron is genuine, and Lyrra-Sharron takes the crown…the Medaelians again may strike as the government shifts. Can’t we find a way to convince Lyrra-Sharron to consider this more before she makes her move?”
The Falcon Raider second stood then. He tapped his fingers on the map table. He paused, glanced at Cam. “Her mind is made up. If we work against her, she will dismiss us. All we can do is try and keep her safe, guide her to a path that will not destroy her...or us.”
“Even if we are certain she is wrong?” questioned Cam.
“Especially if we are certain she is wrong.”
There was nothing more to be said.
They spoke no more of their concerns, planned a route, and began to divide the Falcon Raiders into two groups. Andim interrupted them once to announce the departure of the Baron, and which raiders had gone with him. Within three-quarters of an hour, they were ready.
As grey, rain-heavy clouds rolled in, Dak, Cam and Lyrra-Sharron told the Falcon Raiders of what was to come, and gave them their assignments.
Their leaders had seen to it that the Falcon Raiders could fully mobilize in a matter of hours. Soon, they began to pack up, ready to move the base, prepared to take the next step.
As night descended, a light rain began to fall. Cam could not help but feel it was an ill omen of what was coming.
/>
*****
With the rain coming down it was hard to tell when night actually started to fall upon Gara-Sharron.
Varlock-Sharron was sitting to dinner, along with Lady Ara. A fire roared in the large fireplace of the hall, and a leg of lamb lay before them. They awaited Tulock and Lady Marna.
“I still think we should try and find a different resolution,” began Lady Ara, not for the first time.
The King took up his goblet, sipped at his wine. “What would you suggest, my lady? Renounce the throne in favor of my daughter? When war is at hand?” he grunted. “Lord Tulock was wise to invoke Royal Commission, but I do wish he had awaited my approval.”
Lady Ara let out a saddened sigh. “There you go trying to change the subject. Varlock-Sharron, I know you and your daughter have never been close, but don’t you care the least about what may befall her?”
Varlock-Sharron closed his eyes. “I care more than any could know.”
“Then change your course,” Lady Ara pleaded.
The King shook his head. “I cannot. The welfare of my Kingdom is more important than that of my daughter, my family, or myself, for that matter.”
Tulock and Marna were escorted into the chamber, Tulock bowing his head to the King, Marna curtsying. Both took seats at the oversized table.
“I am glad you were all willing to join me tonight,” stated Varlock-Sharron. “I would have had Sir Garvol and Bodrir with us as well, but the General has ridden to join Sir Portav at Vanntir, and Sir Garvol is away, likely at Mintarn. But I appreciate that you can be here with me.”
“If, my liege, I may ask, is there a purpose behind this supper you have called us to?” asked Lady Marna.
Varlock-Sharron grinned, though it could not dispel his obvious sadness. “Indeed, Lady Marna. Indeed.”
He took up his goblet, had a drink, then set it down again. He looked to each of the people seated at his table.
“I have been the King of Sharron for thirty-three years, now. I have had three Seneschals, four Exchequers, and too many Foreign Ministers. I have fought many battles to keep my kingdom whole, and I admit, I am tired. But my work is not finished, not yet. I am a strong king. I am, I believe, a good king. Friends are a luxury of the common man, a luxury the wealthiest, most powerful cannot seem to afford. I was blessed with a family, once, but soon, too soon, that will be but a memory. I am told, today, that everything is in place, and that my daughter likely knows she has been called to account. A sad day draws near, when I am to be truly without a family. But for the greater good of my people, my kingdom, this I must do.”
He raised his goblet once again before continuing. “I have never been good at showing my feelings to people. I am a King, I must needs be distant, apart. But few, a very, very select few, can see me as a man, and not just a King. I count you three among those few. Please, raise your glasses.”
The others, not hiding their surprise at the unusual sentiments from the King, took up their wine-filled goblets.
“Tonight, I am, to you, just Varlock-Sharron, sharing a meal amongst good company. And so I raise a glass, and propose a toast. To friends!”
“To friends,” the others intoned. All took a sip, setting goblets down.
“I did not want to eat my meal alone, nor did I want to have a formal dinner, with all the pleasantries and expectations of such. I wanted nothing more than a meal with the people I can be just a companion to, even if only for a short while.”
He rang a small bell by his hand, and servants came in, and began to serve, Lady Marna and Lady Ara first, then Tulock, and finally Varlock-Sharron.
They did not speak of business, and affairs of state. The gossiped. They laughed. For hours, they were simply enjoying one-another’s company.
For those few hours, Varlock-Sharron was not a symbol, not a crown. For the first time in a long time, he felt content, he did not feel alone. He let go of his usual facade, and enjoyed the company of the people he could show this side of himself to.
Tomorrow he would be King again.
Chapter 23
The events of the day continued to intrude upon Cam Murtallan’s attempts to relax. His mind would not be still, preventing him from his usual meditation.
Two things in particular would not cease to intrude.
Dak’s confession explained why the solitary exiled soldier had joined the Falcon Raiders, and what brought him his loyalty to Lyrra-Sharron and her cause. Cam could not be sure what effect this might have on the situation. But more than that, he really wished he could do something to help Dak show the Princess his motivation. Maybe that, in turn, would help her make a more rational choice.
Rational did not describe the Princess currently. What bothered Cam most was Lyrra-Sharron’s disposition. In the face of all her Lieutenants questioning the plans before her, she had steadfastly refused to choose any other course. The way she spoke of the crown and of becoming Queen of Sharron had been almost hysterical, urgent, lustful.
Cam knew instinctively, right down to his core, that it would be an issue, and wondered what this was leading up to.
Before now, Cam had simply tried to meditate. But pausing to acknowledge his distractions seemed to make him feel better. He could not spend all of his time just attempting to regain his power. He had become, in his months among the Falcon Raiders, a part of the real world, for the first time since his youth. He no longer cared only about himself…he found that he cared about these people he had come to consider friends.
Cam paused, drank some water. He’d taken a long enough spell on these recollections. He now took more time than usual, calming his heart and mind, taking hold of, examining, and then clearing out the intruding thoughts that broke his concentration.
Finally, more at ease than he had ever remembered feeling before, he sat upon his bed, cross-legged, slowing his breath and his heart. He concentrated on his breathing. Soon, he sank into a deep meditation.
He was here again, before the power within himself. The glowing sphere of red and orange and yellow and gold, with flashes of all other colors known to mankind. It pulsed slowly, with the beat of his heart. Cam was still fascinated by this, barely believing that in all the years he had practiced the art of sorcery, he’d never really examined this, the center of his very soul.
Cam often pondered now if this was unique to only sorcerers, and the great artisans, craftsmen and warriors, or if this was within all. Why could only some touch this? Why could only some use it for sorcery? Why were some only affected by it, and unable to control this mysterious orb that Cam had come to respect, and contemplate every day?
Cam was certain the destruction of this sphere of energy, the core of his soul as he believed it to be, would be his own termination.
He found the webbing, far less than what had been there when he had begun. A quarter of his sorcerous capacity was unavailable to him still, and the webbing, covering only that quarter, shifted all about, preventing him from grasping it, or furthering its elimination. So he examined it, tried to find a pattern in its shifting, tried to grab ahold of it, peel it away as he had the rest.
Cam examined the orb closely, touching it occasionally, gently, as he had never done before. As difficult as the loss of his abilities had been for him, what Cam had gained in the restoration far outweighed the misfortune.
Forced to rely on his body and mind alone, Cam had chosen to train himself physically, using staff and rapier to mold and shape the muscles and body of a man once completely reliant on unseen strength. Now he had the endurance to fight, to run, and even to perform acrobatic flips, and the strength to wield a weapon for as long as he would choose.
In working his body, he had been able to produce more energy, and thus meditate deeper, sleep more soundly and more restfully, for shorter periods. He found himself calmer, less frenzied, more able to scrutinize a matter and respond accordingly, rather than catching a glimpse of an issue and reacting impulsively.
Then came his examination of this ene
rgy. Cam had learned to meditate deeply, and to work meticulously and patiently, something he’d not been capable of before. In so doing, his understanding of this gift had increased a thousandfold.
Though he was loathe to admit it, although denied his full power, Cam was actually stronger than he had been before.
He had learned an aspect of his talent no other had spoken of previously. All the books and teachings spoke of the archaic, ancient language required to unleash sorcery. But Cam had discovered that he could recite the spells in a shorter form, in his own tongue. In his self-examination, Cam had not simply recovered what was lost, but had received new insights into the essence of his gift.
Through this ordeal, Cam had grown stronger spiritually. His understanding and appreciation of the world around him was far stronger, and better rooted in the present tense than he would ever have thought possible. Perhaps now, he would be truly ready to take on the task of being The Seeker.
He looked closely at the sphere, seeing all the colors and hues he had ever known in his life. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing he’d not truly appreciated before. It made him want to laugh with enthusiasm and cry with joy.
As he watched the webbing appear, disappear and shift, he wondered what the orb felt, what caused it to need this protection. Cam found himself thinking about the energy as a living being unto itself.
A thought struck him he’d not contemplated before. Up to now, he’d examined the power from without, closely, granted, but only at the surface. He pondered this, looking at the vortex. Concentrating harder, he placed his hand upon it, let it sink in. It was a warm, tingling sensation, not unpleasant.
Slowing his heart and breathing down as far as he could, Cam allowed himself to come closer to the sphere that represented his power. As he did, he let himself sink into it. He closed his eyes within himself, felt it engulf him. Felt himself become one with the energy.
It was almost an indescribable sensation. Pain and pleasure, hot and cold, love and hate, wet and dry, stinging and tickling, all at once, then not at all. He felt himself as this orb, felt the constant flow of color and light and energy that was inside himself.