Dinavhek- The Fall

by Tal'urra Steelfang

  “I don't know,” she answered honestly, “but in any case, it's not a matter of trust, it's a matter of practicality. A prince who wants to make life better for the peasants? It sounds too good to be true, so it must be. Even if it is, I'm afraid it's just not possible the way you seem to want it to be.”

  “I can't blame you,” the prince said. “You have seen horrors I could never imagine. I don't know what all you have survived from, but I can tell that you are, in many ways, far stronger than I am. You have survived precisely because you have learned not to trust anyone – am I wrong?”

  “No,” Aasimah said softly, mildly surprised by how perceptive the young man was, “you are not.”

  Again, Adsuni smiled. “I wish I could earn your trust. I have a feeling I could learn a great deal from you.”

  “You wouldn't enjoy it,” Aasimah warned him.

  She stood up to observe the city again. There were a few less glowing dots now; some of the torches must have been extinguished. In a few hours, the sky would begin to lighten, and the commonfolk would be going about their days. Farmers that lived on the outskirts of the city would tend to their fields and livestock. Merchants would return to the markets to sell their wares.

  She could not see any people wandering about the streets at the moment, but she knew they were out there. Starving homeless, parents struggling to keep their children fed, people whose minds were long gone and were left ambling the streets without direction, and the many monsters that preyed upon all of them.

  No matter how beautiful the city might look from far away, it was always the same up close – savage and hideous. She'd seen enough in her travels to know that Aranaot could be no different.

  “You still can,” Aasimah said finally, giving some serious thought to the possibility that the prince might truly be sincere in his goals. At least, perhaps he might prove entertaining.

  “Hm?”

  “You could still learn from me, but only if you listen. And I mean really listen. I won't hold back, and my story isn't a happy one. If you don't have the stomach for it... that's on you. Not me. Before you say 'yes,' are you sure this is what you want?”

  The prince, too, stood and looked upon the city, watching the fires flicker. It looked peaceful, deceptively so. Calm, inviting, freeing. Aasimah looked upon the city and saw a maze, full of lurking predators. Adsuni looked upon the city and saw endless possibilities for exploration and self-growth.

  The prince could barely make out a few scurrying shadows on the streets closest to them, too cautious to linger in one place for long. Who, or what, were they avoiding? Foolish as it was, the curious prince almost desperately wanted to know!

  The moon shone gently over Aranaot, bathing it in its divine silvery glow, but the prince knew that the goddess Anikasi had long ago abandoned her subjects.

  The people of Dinavhek were on their own.

  Adsuni sighed. He wasn't sure he was up to the task of filling that void for his people, but surely, it would be the princely thing to try!

  “Yes,” he answered in a tone of finality, “I am.”

  As the odd couple above stood on the rooftop and looked down upon the city, another stood well beyond their immediate visibility, watching them with just as much curiosity and wonder as they did the city.

  Hymuse could see them clearly from his position just beyond the palace gate. He gazed upon them with kindly eyes, his features softened with amusement and even a hint of love.

  “He has his mother's sense of adventure, doesn't he?” Hymuse asked with a wide grin, touching a finger to his bottom lip while he observed them.

  The red-haired man that stood by his side was his escort, one of the greatest knights that Dinavhek had to offer, and he too had known the prince since his early childhood. As a matter of fact, his son was the prince's closest friend.

  He scratched at his short beard, less amused by the show than his companion.

  “They really shouldn't be up there,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, come now, it wasn't too long ago that you were their age. The prince doesn't get to see as much of the world as the rest of us. His father keeps him on a short leash. Not that I blame him,” Hymuse added quickly, taking note of his escort's disapproving look. “With all that the king has lost, one can't blame him for keeping his son so very close.”

  The red-haired man winced, and Hymuse knew he'd struck a nerve, for he and the king shared much in common, including their losses. It was the main reason that they became such good friends, for old king Zaeem could empathize with the outcast's grief over his lost wife.

  It was strange to think that it had already been close to two decades since that fateful day. Hymuse remembered with ease the day that the rogue – now known as the honorable knight, Sir Konrad, Captain of the Dinavhene royal guard – was sentenced to death by hanging.

  But that rogue had a son the prince's age and the king, having just lost his own wife, understood the incredible weight that had been placed upon Sir Konrad's shoulders. For all his faults, King Zaeem was possessed of tremendous empathy.

  The king called off the execution, on the condition that the criminal work tirelessly to redeem himself. In time, they became good friends. So too did their sons, who had grown up together. The rogue became Sir Konrad, the most respected knight in all of Dinavhek. It was a miraculous turnaround, one that Hymuse had enjoyed witnessing over the years.

  “My son is likely looking for us,” the knight reminded him. “We've been standing here for too long, and I promised to take him home before we leave.”

  “Yes,” Hymuse murmured absentmindedly, “and the ki—queen of Takirar will not be happy if we are late.”

  “Then why are we still here?”

  Hymuse's eyes glowed as he watched the prince and his servant from the shadows. Faint though his elven heritage was, he could still see better in the dark than any human, and for that he was grateful. Shadows did not trouble him so greatly as they did his companion.

  His grandfather, a full-blooded elf, had paid the ultimate price for being a non-human in Dinavhek during the time of the Dagaz War, as did his half-elven daughter when she was discovered a century later.

  Hymuse, who was a mere infant at the time, was spared at the word of a kindly knight who offered to take him in. Hymuse was to be raised with no knowledge of his elven blood, but it did not take very long before the child began to ask questions that were too difficult for his surrogate family to answer.

  After outliving that family, Hymuse went into hiding for a few years, traveling the lands of Zarama. He was too human to be accepted among the elves, and his Dinavhene origins alone were damning enough to exile him from Helisfar and Karilar. He eventually returned to Dinavhek and even managed to score a position within the court.

  As charismatic as he was handsome, he became a favorite among the commonfolk and the nobility alike. His popularity with the people earned him a special place beside King Zaeem.

  He thought he would be able to gently nudge Dinavhek into a better direction, paving the way toward a future in which non-humans could live within its borders in peace. After spending so many years hearing only the foulest vitriol toward the elven people from his fellow councilmen, and seeing the king merely stand by while they raved about invading Helisfar more than once, Hymuse began to lose hope.

  Zaeem was a good enough man at heart, but a rather poor leader when challenged. Still, for all his scheming, Hymuse could not help but retain some love for the man. How could he not, when he'd spent so many years by his side?

  Hymuse remembered the night of prince Adsuni's birth, and he recalled, most vividly, the young king's consternation as he held his son for the first time.

  His weak, sickly little boy.

  He was told that Adsuni would not likely survive the night, for he was so incredibly frail. Hymuse stayed up all night with the distraught father, comforting him as he watched over his newborn son and handling him as though he were made of glass.

  Hymus
e thought of the prayer – no, the plea he made toward Anikasi that night, begging her to save that precious child.

  Adsuni's little lungs seemed to give out then and there, and Hymuse thought that a cruel joke had been played upon him. Then, inexplicably, the prince drew breath again and cried out. He survived that night, to their amazement and relief. He never fully recovered from whatever sickness it was that he'd been born with, for even now, he was still weaker than other boys age. Weak of body, but not so in spirit.

  It was easy to understand why King Zaeem feared so greatly for his son's well-being.

  “Go on,” Hymuse whispered to Konrad. “Go, and ready the horses. I will be along shortly.”

  Konrad bowed in response, leaving Hymuse alone to his thoughts.

  He felt a twinge of guilt as he weighed his next course of action. He knew he'd already betrayed his king, and worse still, he'd involved the king's closest and most trusted knight! There would be no turning back now, he rationalized.

  Still...

  He cast one last, lingering gaze upon the prince and his servant as they stood there, looking down upon the city.

  Anikasi protected the prince once before, and on Hymuse's prayers. Perhaps she would do so again, if it came down to it.

  Chapter 9

  The Raid

  ∞∞∞

  The next morning marked the first day of Aasimah and Itholera's training. They were assigned a variety of tasks to keep themselves busy throughout the day. Itholera was to tend to the garden, under the supervision of the prince himself. Aasimah, who thought that she and Itholera would be kept together, was surprised when she was informed that she would be spending her day with Glanen.

  The prince ordered them to tend to the palace walls, which were in sore need of a good cleaning. The knight could not resist mentioning that he was perfectly capable of doing everything on his own, but that he welcomed the company.

  Aasimah felt that she would rather attempt to catch the pond fish using only her mouth than have to spend an entire day with Glanen, but she knew she would be having a much worse time if she were still living at the slaver's shack - provided she would still be living at all, which was rather unlikely.

  Her obvious lack of interest did nothing to diminish the knight's boundlessly cheery mood.

  Glanen offered to give her an even more in-depth tour of the palace, but Aasimah insisted that it was really not necessary, she had seen quite enough the day before, and had explored it a bit on her own time.

  Instead, the knight regaled her with tales of his many victories across not only Dinavhek, but the rest of the world. Or, rather, what the rest of the world meant to him, as Aasimah soon came to realize that he had not ventured out much farther than his own prince.

  Aasimah, who did not believe any of his tales, stopped paying attention after the mention of a solid black unicorn and instead turned her attention completely upon dusting the frame of a painting that Glanen brought down for her, while he dusted the spot left behind. Having tuned the knight out for quite some time, Aasimah made sure to toss in the occasional “really?” and “you don't say,” and even a “whoa” here and there, for good measure. She became fixated with the work of art while otherwise ignoring the knight.

  It depicted a grand scene of a wolf hunt, taking place in an open field, at sunset. It was an enormous, downright monstrous beast with yellow eyes narrowed in fury and an enormous, gaping maw. The creature appeared to be directing its fury at a man crouched in front of it, wielding a sword. Upon closer inspection, Aasimah could see that a javelin was sticking out of its flank. Three more men circled around the pair, holding back three yowling hounds, and standing over one dead one, its throat having presumably been torn out by the beast. The wolf, through grievously wounded, was putting up a mighty fight.

  Glanen suddenly fell silent, watching her as she studied the image. He appeared a touch uneasy.

  “That painting is among the most prized of milord's family.”

  “I'll be careful with it.”

  “Oh, I'm sure you will. Still, I've never liked it much,” he admitted.

  “Why is that?” Aasimah asked absentmindedly, not really interested whatever answer he might give her.

  “It seems cruel to pit so many against one single opponent. I'm rather thankful that sport has fallen out of fashion over the years. As you can see,” he added, tapping his finger against the wolf's hind leg, “the beast is snared. What honor is there in setting upon a trapped foe, and with such savagery, when a simple thrust of a blade can end it quickly?”

  “Was it ever about honor, anyway?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Does the Dinavhene Royal Family share your sentiment? Do they concern themselves much with honor?” Aasimah asked.

  “I know the prince does, as well as our King. I have known both of them from early boyhood, milady. Questionable taste in art aside, I can assure you, they are the finest of men. I may not like the painting, but I am sure there is a reason that they treasure it so. In every other respect, I trust their judgment.”

  “Has anyone ever told you how dangerous it is to blindly trust others?” Aasimah challenged him.

  The knight smiled broadly. “Many times!” he confirmed. “I suppose I seem a fool to you, but I enjoy my life, and serving His Majesty is what I live for. Besides, who ever said my devotion is blind?”

  “I suppose there are few who can say the same about their own lives. That they're happy, I mean,” Aasimah clarified, noting his confusion.

  “I am truly fortunate,” the knight agreed. “My life is meaningful and rich, and I wouldn't trade it for any other. Make of that what you will.”

  Aasimah was amazed by how quickly the knight's spirit rebounded. Glanen the Simple, indeed. There was an odd sort of charm to that, in a way. She wondered if there was anything that could keep the knight's spirits down for long.

  She was about to ask him to tell her more about his early life with the prince, when Itholera came sprinting down the hall towards them, her eyes wide in a state of panic, hair flying about her in all directions. She tripped and would have fallen face-down onto the cold stone floor if Glanen hadn't caught her.

  “At ease, milady,” Glanen said, “what brings you into my arms this time?”

  Aasimah nearly rolled her eyes. He might be a bit too trusting of others, but he did seem to possess a surprisingly sharp wit when the opportunity presented itself.

  “Attack – village – bandits – ransom –” poor Itholera gasped between breaths.

  “A bandit attack? Where? And who told you this?”

  “A woman – she ran in, the guards took her away – but I heard her say, 'Dre'shii'.Glanen appeared unusually concerned. Thoughtful, even.

  “Who's Dre'shii?” Aasimah asked.

  “Dre'shii is one of our greatest agricultural villages. Incidentally, it's also one of very few that kept its elvish name. There's an interesting story about that, actually—”

  “—And one that should be saved for later,” Aasimah said.

  “Right, yes, forgive me. In any case, it's an unusual target for a raid, seeing as it's quite close by. Bandits usually attack the more isolated villages near the border. For them to come this close to the capital is highly unusual.””

  Glanen carefully hung the painting back up, and turned to Aasimah and Itholera. “I must see to this at once!” be boomed, catching both of them off guard and causing them to jump. “Where is the prince?”

  “He left me in the garden a while ago. Said I was doing fine on my own, and he needed to alert the king and call for an emergency meeting,” Itholera said.

  Glanen frowned, mulling it over. “I don't think the prince would mind if I gave you the rest of the afternoon off. Can I trust you to stay out of trouble while I see to this matter?”

  The knight didn't even wait to listen for an answer. Before either of them could so much as open their mouths he was gone, though not silently, for they could hear him calling
for the stable hand.

  “Do you think he'll be all right?” Itholera asked hesitantly. Aasimah shrugged.

  “I think he'll come back with an axe stuck in his face,” she answered.

  Itholera gasped, looking sickly pale at the troublesome thought.

  Aasimah sighed.

  “It was a joke. I'm sure he'll be fine. If he's managed to survive being a 'great knight' for this long, a couple of thugs won't be any trouble for him. Let's go wait for the prince to return.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?” Itholera demanded, finding her courage. She reached out to Aasimah and grabbed her by the wrist, preventing her from leaving.

  Aasimah turned around, eyeing her dangerously.

  Itholera faltered and let go of her friend's hand, but she did not look away. She met Aasimah's glare with one of her own.

  “I lost my entire family to a raid,” she informed Aasimah curtly.

  “And I have lost many of my own, to several raids,” Aasimah shot back. “Do you know what it's like to live your life in hiding, never being able to stay in one place for more than a few days, because someone is hunting after you? No? Then back off.”

  “Don't presume that you know my history! You have no idea what kind of life I've lived!”

  “And I don't care to.”

  Itholera stuttered, beginning to say something, perhaps to condemn Aasimah for being so blunt, but she fell silent. Aasimah felt a hint of regret, for she hadn't meant to hurt her. Truly, she was grateful for Itholera's help before. However, pride was the last thing Aasimah had, and she would not give it up so easily.

  She resisted the sudden, pressing impulse to apologize for her outburst, and simply stared Itholera down.

  Finally, the other woman turned away in surrender. Defeated though she was, her shoulders did not sag, and she kept her head high as she retreated back to the garden with a dignified pace. She was noble-born through and through.