The Seedbearing Prince: Part I

by DaVaun Sanders

  “...we already sent for workers from the nearest strongholds,” one of the advisors said from behind a curly brown mustache. “With their help we can repair this wall within a week's time.”

  Dayn reached for the Seed involuntarily, but released it when a guard growled and poked him with a spear. He could no longer ignore the truth. The Seed definitely felt warm to the touch. I’ll ask Lurec about it, once we’re free of this clusterthorn. For now, the Ringmen listened intently to the Overlord's advisors, so Dayn did the same.

  “A week's time?” The Overlord repeated in a gravelly voice. He fixed his advisor with a steely glare, the man nearly wilted in his boots. “We will all freeze to death if this hole is not sealed by nightfall.”

  The lead guard cleared his throat, and the Overlord looked their way. “Emissaries from the Ring, come to save us?”

  “Peace upon you, Overlord Feerthul,” Nassir intoned, bowing his head. “My sorrow for your losses in this vile attack.”

  “What peace do you see in this?” Feerthul snapped.

  Nassir's eyes narrowed, but Lurec stepped forward before he could reply. “On my word, our mission of goodwill put our lives in the same peril as your own men.”

  “On your word, Preceptor?” Feerthul sneered. Lurec's face reddened at his tone. “Yet here you stand, unscathed. The Ring’s words mean little if it cannot protect Suralose from these…raiders.”

  “Overlord, beg pardon,” Kenit piped up. “But I did see the Ringmen’s transport fall from the sky, lost to the torrent. It was―”

  “Be silent!” The Overlord snapped. Kenit hunched back like a river crab squeezing into an outgrown shell. The Overlord's gaze fell on the captured Aran rockrider, and he regained his frozen calm. “Take that filth to the others. They will seal this hole with their bodies, if necessary.”

  Nassir looked upon the shivering Arans thoughtfully. He appeared to reconsider his words before speaking again. “Overlord, you must ensure that the Treaty of Irshev remains intact. The World Belt will fall into chaos without Suralose water.”

  “You cannot be serious.” Genuine surprise threatened to raise Feerthul's eyebrows clean off his scalp. “That treaty is as broken as the torrent, and withered as the dead men who wrote it.”

  “Your disregard for the old ways will be the undoing of your world, old man!” the Aran rockrider shouted. One of the guards kicked him swiftly in the ribs before he could say more. The Overlord immediately swept over to the man, Nassir and Lurec at his heels. For a relief, the guards let them pass.

  “Another Aran with his sense cooked away by the sun,” Feerthul said dryly. The guards all chuckled roughly as the rockrider glared angrily up at him, gasping for breath. “At least this one speaks. What madness guides you, young fool? Speak quickly, and I shall make you brick for my new wall instead of mortar.”

  Blood drained from the Aran's face, but he did not hesitate. “You Suralosans are selling water rights to the Belt, when Ara has known only drought since before my grandparents were born! The High sent us to remind you of your duty, and stake a rightful claim to what is ours.”

  “I issued no such decree.” Surprise showed once more on the Overlord's face. “Nor have any of the Underlords even suggested such an idea. Your High are all fools to think otherwise. There is ice enough to sell and fulfill the treaty, but not without more transports, and more men to work the mountain. Even then, the ice will not last forever.”

  “All lies. Our High were given the truth by Consorts.” Blood leaked from a corner of the Aran’s mouth as he grinned at Nassir. “We were warned by Consorts from the Ring.”

  “That is grave news.” Overlord Feerthul gave the slightest nod as he turned away from the captives. The Suralose guards immediately surrounded the Ringmen and Dayn once more. They held their spears with the grim determination of men ready to do violence. “And most unfortunate for you, Defender. A moment, please.”

  “Oh, peace,” Dayn groaned. Silence embraced the entire room as the Suralosan workers stopped their salvage efforts to watch. The Overlord's advisors whispered heatedly in his ear, casting baleful looks at Nassir and Lurec. To Dayn's dismay, the Overlord nodded frequently. “What are we going to do now?”

  Lurec edged away from a spear tip too close for his liking, his blue eyes large as moondrops. “This is what comes of you dealing with that Aran so roughly,” he muttered to Nassir. “What in peace's reach is he talking about? Consorts?”

  “Lies to sow mistrust. Our Consorts may do their work with little oversight, but they would not risk the Force Lord’s wrath,” Nassir replied. He stood casually, as though waiting for his turn at a festival game. It took Dayn a moment to realize the man held a fighting stance, The Mongoose Lies in Wait. Several of the guards eased slightly, convinced by the Defender's demeanor that he did not mean to flee.

  Lurec swallowed. “Who would move so boldly? The Regents?”

  “Who else? If things go badly here, they may succeed in killing me.” Nassir's face remained unperturbed, a man planning the morning chores. “Offer no resistance, so your lives will be spared.” Dayn opened his mouth to protest, but Nassir fixed him with a stare. “Shardian, do not argue!”

  The Overlord suddenly burst through his advisors to yank the Aran rockrider to his feet and hold him face to face. The show of strength surprised Dayn, especially for a silver-haired man on a world with such weak ground.

  “My wife is gone to visit her sister in Pelz,” Feerthul snarled. “If they’ve been harmed, you will pay dearly. Tell me where else you’ve attacked! Torrent blind you, where?”

  The man held his silence, although fear covered his face.

  “No answers, of course.” Feerthul released the Aran, who spilled abruptly back to the ground. For the first time, the Overlord of Suralose made eye contact with Dayn. He frowned, reassessing what he saw. Dayn suspected the man thought him to be some servant, maybe Lurec's assistant. “Perhaps this Shardian prince holds the answers I seek. What is your purpose here?”

  Dayn waited for the guards’ loud guffaws to still. Prince? he thought. What’s so funny about that?

  “The Ring asked me to come and tell you about my village,” Dayn said. The Overlord blinked, casting a confused glance at Nassir and Lurec. Dayn knew himself to be plainspoken, not eloquent like Elder Buril. He imagined how his father would speak to the Overlord, polite but blunt. Honest.

  “My name is Dayn Ro'Halan. I farm my father's land in the Mistlands. I’m sorry for your trouble here, and...peace send your wife and sister are safe. I wish I brought good news from Shard, but it's not.”

  “You’re certainly no dignitary...” The Overlord folded his arms and gave Dayn a hard look. “Speak, then. But know that I will bury offworlder schemers in my new wall if I do not like what I hear.”

  Dayn looked to Nassir and Lurec. They both stood tense and silent, eyes urging him on. “Five days ago, I saw a voidwalker in my father’s well. They stink and steam, like the air singes their skin. They’re strong enough to tear a person in half with their bare hands. No one in my village believed me, either. Their faces looked just like all of yours do now.” Feerthul’s frown deepened, but Dayn pressed on before he could interrupt. “Four days ago, I fell down some cliffs on Shard that we call the Dreadfall. It’s a hole that goes all the way through our world.”

  "He speaks of the Breach," Lurec supplied. The Overlord's face went pale.

  “There were voidwalkers in Shard’s heartrock. They—”

  “Impossible!” One of the advisors spat. “The pressure alone would kill you, if the heat didn’t burn you to cinders first.”

  “It was hot,” Dayn allowed. “And bright near the worldheart, like a red sun, too bright to see. The heartrock looks like a river frozen in place. At least it did, until the voidwalkers made it all explode.”

  People from every corner of the room edged closer to hear Dayn's tale, squeezing between the stunned guards and the Overlord's advisors, drinking in every word. “They were there t
o tear Shard from the World Belt, and whatever they did to the worldheart almost worked. The ground…it died. People floated out of their beds, back in my village. The Dreadfall was full of smoke and fire, and the heartrock was broken in a thousand pieces. Many of the voidwalkers died, but not all. I would never have made it out if not for my sheath.”

  “How did you escape?” Kenit rasped.

  Dayn licked his lips. “I…Shard’s heart is strong. I climbed my way back up and would have floated off into the sky, too, but she fought back. And I think this helped her…right herself.”

  Dayn withdrew the Seed. Gasps sounded throughout the space, even from the shivering Aran captives. Dayn spoke loudly so they could hear, too. “I found it in the Dreadfall.”

  Feerthul shook his head. “I don’t believe it. No Seed could exist in an age of sorrow such as ours.”

  “Our age is whatever we make it,” Lurec said forcefully. “The discovery of such a tool is proof of that.”

  “He’s a Shardian caperdoll on strings that stretch back to the Ring, Overlord,” one of the advisors suggested.

  “I barely know anything about Consorts, and I won’t say I like Defenders very much.” Some of the guards chortled at Dayn’s words before remembering themselves. He flushed, and avoided looking at Nassir. “The Lord Ascendant wanted all the worlds to know what’s happened, and see what I’ve found. Even if you don’t trust the Ring, I swear by my first harvest that you can trust that the voidwalkers are real. That’s why they’ve brought me here, to warn you. If voidwalkers can come so close to ending Shard, imagine what they are planning for you while you’re fighting like this?”

  Long moments passed before the Overlord spoke. Not knowing what else to do, Dayn returned the Seed to his pack. Nassir and Lurec stood there quietly, waiting. “So Thar’Kur attacks worldhearts in the Belt. It’s too fantastic to believe, coming from a farmer’s son, no less.” Feerthul turned to his advisors, who all regarded Dayn with somber expressions. “That is why I can actually...accept it. Look at him. His words ring as clear and true as those of a Preceptor.”

  The Overlord gave Lurec the briefest of glances and the Ringman nodded. Somehow Dayn knew the slight exchange passed as an apology for Feerthul's earlier insult.

  “You understand our urgency now,” Nassir said. He gestured to the prisoners. “If Ara fears a failed treaty, imagine what the rest of the Belt broods over in their trade councils? How long before Montollos invades Quello for control of their mines? When will the Eadrinn Gohr demand a fifth of Shard's harvest? A common threat still conspires against all of our peoples. The Ring stands in its proper place, but I fear that is not enough. Your losses here are great, but I ask you not to retaliate against Ara. Strife in the Belt is exactly what Thar’Kur wants.”

  “You ask much, Defender. The other worlds...you would visit them all?” Feerthul asked. Several of his advisors smirked openly at the notion.

  “As many as we can,” Nassir replied earnestly. “The Lord Ascendant bade us journey to Ista Cham next, but we will bear straight for Ara. Our presence will help end this conflict.”

  “And put to rest these claims of Consort plotting,” Lurec added.

  Feerthul’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded slowly. The Overlord spoke so the entire room could hear. “I hold to the will of the Ring. Suralose will stand against this threat, and keep to covenant so long as there’s a Belt to keep.” He looked at Dayn, eying his pack where the Seed rested once more. “And so long as there is hope for the worlds to be as one.”

  Nassir and Lurec both bowed deeply, and Dayn did the same after a moment.

  “We must depart at once to Ara,” Nassir said briskly. “To prevent further attacks.”

  “My man said your transport was destroyed,” Feerthul said. He gestured to the rubble near the wall. “As is ours, buried there. We’ve no Sending personnel here, and this storehouse contained our remaining liftriders. We’re effectively cut off from the rest of Suralose until our main lift returns in two weeks. I sympathize with your troubles Defender, but I am powerless to aid you for the moment. We must collapse this room in order to survive the night. There’s no guarantee that other strongholds on Suralose fare any better.”

  Nassir frowned, his face twisted in thought.

  “Can the Ring be...diverted, again?” Dayn asked hopefully.

  The Defender shook his head dismissively. “I would do it without hesitation, but there are no means to reach them, Shardian. No Sending personnel.”

  “Sending? What’s that?” Dayn asked.

  Nassir stared at him a moment, muttering under his breath before turning back to Overlord Feerthul. “Do you have sheath?”

  “Copious amounts. We have little use for it, though it may be all that keeps us from freezing in our beds tonight.”

  “No.” Lurec's face turned to ash. “You cannot possibly mean to―”

  Nassir rounded on the Preceptor. “Stay if you like. Our fastest means to reach Ara is the torrent. If we course, we’ll reach the Aran High before the day is over.”

  Exhilaration and fear swirled in Dayn's chest. He spoke with no hesitation. “I'm going. I want to see this done.”

  “Well spoken, young Shardian.” Overlord Feerthul gave Dayn an appraising look. “In all my days I never thought to see a coursing, seedbearing prince! It seems the old stories show us the way forward.”

  “But the torrent is unsafe...we cannot possibly...” Lurec stammered, looking near ready to faint.

  “The Preceptor speaks true.”

  Every head turned to a weary voice among the Arans, the captured rockrider. “The resonance wake overtook most of our force just before we came down. We were mad to ever attempt this strike. The torrent moved so fast it caught fire, and turned three transports of warhorses and their riders to ash. We lost ten times our number to that wretched storm. We were mad to think we could brave it.”

  Stillness dominated the storeroom as the Suralosans digested his words. The day might have gone much differently if those forces had reached ground. Dayn knew nothing of a resonance wake, but the terror on Lurec's face told him enough.

  The guard who led them to the Overlord spoke up suddenly. “My uncle navigated for Montollos, before he took to guard duty. 'When your vapor array turns black, curse the cargo and find your way back.' That's what he used to say about a wake.”

  “Like walking uphill through an avalanche, but along with the snow and ice, there are a thousand more of these smiling down at you,” another guard muttered, nodding at the rockrider’s boulder.

  Every eye fixed on Nassir then, from the Overlord to the prisoners, the guards and milling ice melters. He regarded them all coolly, looking every bit the hero Dayn imagined when he read of Defenders in the stories.

  “No goal eludes the Ring, and no task is too great for a Defender,” Nassir intoned. His words held the feel of an old saying. “Our time is short. Please, if you can spare a man to bring the sheath and take us to your leap point? Preceptor, Shardian, come.”

  Overlord Feerthul and Nassir set off among the crowd in silence. Dayn and Lurec followed.

  “Peace upon the Ring!” A husky voice broke the silence.

  “Peace upon Shard!” said another. Slowly the Suralosans began to cheer. Dayn would have enjoyed the encouraging shouts, but he could not help but notice the haunted light in the eyes of the Aran captives.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Speed Kills

  Of all her new charges, Adazia must beware the brother and sister named Toljem. Nassir and Pararsha are an all consuming fire, and the Force Lord ignores their appetite at the Ring's peril.

  -private memoirs of Lord Ascendant Phontra

  The storeroom burst into motion as Suralosans scampered to fulfill Overlord Feerthul's brisk commands. “I want everything of value in this room cleared well before sunset. Well before! Bring me the Defender’s protection for the torrent. Quickly!”

  “This shall be more than adequate.” Nassir carefully dipped sheath
from a great vat carried in by a pair of fur clad ice melters. He secreted small casks of the stuff within his monstrous scabbard. Dayn wondered that the liquid did not freeze in the cold. “And the rest?”

  The Suralosan guards proffered an overlarge bronze breastplate to fit Lurec, overcoat and all. Kenit rushed over, puffing out frozen air. The herald held a leather and metal chestpiece, with matching coverings for Dayn’s arms and legs.

  “You don't want to know where I found it, young Shardian,” the herald said, his eyes sliding away from a dark stain on the leather chestpiece. “Better to have something besides your skin between the torrent and the sheath.”

  “You’re probably right,” Dayn said uneasily. He avoided lingering on the stain, too. Several Arans gave him dark looks as they were prodded past. But others, strangely enough, were looks of wonder. Wonder and hope.

  Nassir gave them both an impatient glance, and Kenit swallowed. “Best see if it fits. Does that Defender always look so serious? His scowl could drain the marrow from my bones!”

  “He does,” Dayn replied as he slid into the armor. Kenit inspected the fit with a satisfactory nod. The touch of the frozen leather pierced easily through his layered shirts. Dayn quickly pulled his red cloak back on, shivering. “Who do you think would win a staring match, Nassir or Feerthul?”

  Kenit chuckled as Dayn checked his pack for the Seed. He straightened to find Overlord Feerthul planted directly in front of him.

  “Overlord,” he gulped, managing a slight bow. His face grew hot as he realized the Suralosan leader may have heard him jesting.

  “You’ve honored us with your visit, Dayn Ro'Halan,” Feerthul said formally. The man showed no hint of displeasure, and Dayn let himself breathe again. Kenit gave him a rueful look. “I would see you off properly, but our tasks for Suralose are as dire as yours are for the Belt.” He handed Dayn a waterskin that showed a sigil of the same blue wolf that adorned the Overlord's breastplate. “Mount Patel is the foremost of our source waters, and this stronghold must be repaired with all haste. Journey well, and may Suralose waters always quench your thirst.”