Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  Rezkin briefly explained the nature of his mission, and Tam was almost bursting with excitement.

  “A mythical sword? A real mythical sword. From prophecy. I can’t wait! When do we leave?”

  Rezkin shook his head. “You are not going.”

  He watched as Tam’s entire world collapsed with those four words. “What do you mean, I’m not going?”

  Rezkin sighed. “It is a ridiculous task. The sword cannot be magical in the way described in the prophecy.”

  “What do you mean?” Tam said, refusing to be deterred. “There are plenty of enchanted swords. You have enchanted swords.”

  Rezkin glanced at Wesson, who had been practically hiding in the corner while maintaining the sound ward. The mage looked up, startled by the sudden attention. “Oh!” he said and leapt from his chair.

  Wesson cleared his throat. “Ah, where to start. Well, you see, certain enchantments like preventing rust, maintaining a sharp edge, or strengthening against breakage are intended to preserve the material already present. They do not change the nature of the substance itself. Other enchantments, like the bond, those used for tracking items, or those that prevent people from using the weapons are personal enchantments. They are designed to draw power from whoever is handling the weapon. They can store a certain amount of power, but eventually, the spells will fade.

  “The Prophecy of Eyre states that all of the Souelian will be swallowed by darkness, an invader will sweep across the lands; and, if left unchecked, it will consume the world—or something like that. I was never very good with poetry, and of course, prophecies are always told by poets. Or maybe we only remember the prophecies that rhyme. Anyway, it goes on to say that a great king of Gendishen will lead an empire in the fight against the evil. We will know him because he will bear a magical sword, the flaming Sword of Eyre, that will burn with the cleansing power of the Maker. Again, I am paraphrasing. There is supposedly more to the prophecy, but it has either been lost or the Gendishen have been spectacular at keeping the secret.

  “The problem is we cannot enchant blades to bear fire. The elemental powers are earth, fire, water, and air. A fifth power is life, but we do not generally refer to it as an element. I do not know why. Ah, that is not important right now. The point is we cannot force one element to power another element. Earth and fire are often in confluence, but they both exist separately in their interactions or combine to form something new. If we add fire to metal, it gets hot, becomes soft, and then melts. The metal’s form is not sustained. To preserve the blade, we would have to add a protective shield, which would keep the metal and fire separate.”

  Tam nodded vigorously. “The blade would be surrounded by fire, but the fire would not be in the blade. Wouldn’t that satisfy the prophecy?”

  Wesson shook his head. “No, because the metal cannot power the fire. They are two different elements, and they would be separated by the shield anyway. So what would power the fire?”

  “The wielder?” Tam said.

  Wesson nodded. “It would have to be, but there are a few problems with that. First, it would mean the sword itself is not enchanted; second, none of the kings of Gendishen are mages; and third, the wielder would have to be a mage with a significant affinity for fire. I am such a mage, so I know how difficult it would be. Creating fire can be sloppy—a quick light of a candle flame is easy, but you could just as easily burn down a forest. Igniting a sword, maintaining the shape, controlling the size and extent of the flame, fueling the flame—would all require extreme focus. Plus, you must avoid setting yourself on fire. Just because we generate the fire does not mean we are immune to it. We must integrate wards into the fire spells to shield ourselves. Plus, to generate fire, you are using a lot of vimara, and the well is not infinite. I am an extremely powerful fire mage, and even I would only be able to maintain all those spells for a brief time. It would last a few minutes at most.”

  “Is that not long enough?” said Tam.

  “No, it is clear from the prophecy that the sword will burn for the duration of the war. I am telling you, it is not possible to enchant a fire sword. If it were, every swordsman would have one. They would burn down the kingdom.”

  “But, it is a prophecy! It must come true.”

  Rezkin handed Tam a cup of water. He said, “You are getting worked up over nothing, Tam. I have read many so-called prophecies, and I have yet to find one that came true. They are spoken by charlatans to earn fame or reward.”

  Tam was crestfallen. “Then why look for the sword?”

  Rezkin shook his head. “It is what Privoth wants. The Gendishen are fanatical about the prophecy. I am sure you can understand why. Somehow Gendishen gains an empire and saves the world. It is a fantasy tale.”

  “Then, at least let me go with you,” Tam pleaded. “So what if the sword is a fraud. It will be an adventure, nonetheless.”

  “This task is too dangerous, and you already have the attention of too many who might wish you harm. Besides, I need you here.”

  Tam’s face screwed up in anger, he balled his fists, and then he lurched to his feet before proceeding to pace rapidly in front of the table. “No. No! You were undefeated in the King’s Tournament. You have met with two foreign kings. You saved a princess. You claimed an ancient palace of legend. You have dead elven wraiths bowing to you. Now, you are being sent on a quest to retrieve a magical sword of prophecy.” He spread his hands and stared at Rezkin. “Where was I? You said I could join you in your adventures, but you leave me out every time!”

  Rezkin frowned. “I had no intention of leaving you out of anything. You have been at my side for most of those events.”

  “No, I wasn’t at your side. I was being safe on the ship or being safe in the stands or being safe in the warehouse.”

  Rezkin shook his head. “Perhaps you misunderstand my motives. I have not set out to have adventures. I am only carrying out tasks needed to fight a war against tyranny to make sure you all are safe.”

  “Exactly!” Tam said. “You are out saving people and fighting wars while I am stuck drowning in piss ale in musty taverns.”

  “Tam, your role here is not insignificant. Uthrel is a major shipping port, and with the current political climate, it is probably the most significant on the Souelian. How is your Gendishen?”

  Tam paused with the abrupt change in subject. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m doing okay. I don’t sound like a native, and I can understand a lot more than I can speak, but I do okay. The mages sped up my learning, but it left me with a terrible, persistent headache. They said it’ll go away, eventually. You had this planned since Skutton, didn’t you? Everyone else was mourning Palis’s death or gossiping about their troubles, but I was learning Gendishen.”

  Tam glanced down as drops of blood dripped onto his pants. He pulled a blood-stained kerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose. “I think I need to see a healer. These nosebleeds are coming more frequently.”

  Rezkin glanced at Wesson. The mage said, “How often?”

  “Oh, about every other day. What do you think it is? Is something wrong with me?”

  “It is probably just the weather,” Rezkin said, and Wesson slid him a dissatisfied glance. “How about—”

  “No, wait,” Tam said. “You’re keeping something from me. What is it? Does this have to do with the headaches?”

  “You will be fine,” Rezkin said.

  “Rezkin,” Tam snapped.

  Rezkin sighed and leaned against the desk. “What the mages did to help you learn more quickly is not exactly … healthy.”

  Wesson frowned at Rezkin. “What he means is that it is dangerous and banned by the mage academy.”

  “What? You mean you’re damaging my mind?”

  Rezkin said, “Well, yes, but only a little. If it was safe, everyone would do it, and everyone would be experts in everything. The mages had to open a path into your mind, to your memory, which allows information to flow in unfiltered and become trapped there. The
mind is not meant to work like that. In a few weeks, Healer Jespia and Mage Ondrus will visit to close the window and repair most of the damage.”

  “Most of the damage?”

  “The body is resilient,” said Rezkin.

  “So, I have a magical hole in my head, and I was stuck in Uthrel while you were off fighting monsters and meeting with the king. I thought that if you did anything important in Gendishen, I would get to go with you, but no. Now you’re off to … where are you going? Let me guess. You are going to fight a dragon or make a deal with the Fae Queen.”

  “The fae do not have a queen. They are led by the Ancients.”

  Tam scowled at him. “That wasn’t the point. Where are you going?”

  “Ferélle.”

  “What’s in Ferélle?

  Rezkin glanced at the strikers and said, “The Adana’Ro.”

  “Alright,” Tam said with a huff as he plopped into a chair. “What’s that?”

  “It is they, and they are why you cannot go with me. The Adana’Ro are a guild of assassins.”

  “Another assassin’s guild?”

  Their attention piqued, Kai and Farson both looked at Rezkin quizzically. He ignored them.

  “They are not strictly assassins,” Rezkin said. “More like a political movement. In Ferélli, adana means warrior, and ro roughly translates to the innocent. They have an unusual definition of innocent, however. To them, there are people who understand the world, how it really works, people who have encountered death and murder and corruption. They are called the ruk. They are people who know how to swindle, lie, and cheat—the kind of people who know about assassins’ guilds. People who know the darkness.”

  With less confidence, Tam said, “People like you.”

  Rezkin tilted his head. “Yes, people like me. People like them,” he said with a nod toward the strikers. “But the Adana’Ro recognize a different kind of people—the ro, the people of light. People like you and Frisha, the Jebais, and Tieran.”

  Tam scrunched his face. “How can you call me innocent, Rez? I’ve killed before.”

  “That is how their definition differs from yours. The ro live in the same world as the rest of us but see it differently. Many of you know the darkness exists, but it is apart from you. Every once in a while, you are forced to interact with it. Maybe you are robbed or must kill in defense of a friend, but those times are exceptional to you. People like you see beauty and goodness in others, you seek adventure for the sake of adventure, and you believe that good will prevail. You walk in the light.”

  Rezkin glanced at Farson. “I was taught that the ro were inconsequential. In the real world, the light gets little done. To make a difference, one must travel in darkness. The Adana’Ro recognize this as well, but they believe the darkness should remain within the darkness. They believe it is their duty to protect the ro and not just in a physical sense. They protect the ro from becoming a part of the darkness, to preserve their innocence.”

  “But you said they are assassins. Isn’t that hypocritical?”

  “They walk in the darkness so you do not have to. You are ro, Tam, but I have been training you to be a warrior. I believe it is in your best interest to know about the world, about the darkness, so that you can protect yourself from it. I have introduced you to parts of the darkness you would never have known as a carpenter’s apprentice. I have been actively drawing ro into the darkness, and not just you. In the eyes of the Adana’Ro, this is the most wicked of crimes.”

  “How would they know what you’ve been doing? Why would they care? Men are trained for the military or join up with thieves and bandits all the time. I don’t hear about an army of assassins swooping in to save their innocence.”

  Rezkin sighed. “I attracted their attention a while back, and they have been trying to find and follow me ever since.” He noted the shared look between Farson and Kai, and he knew they would have questions. “By the time I find them, they will have already figured out what I have been doing.”

  “So what? You’re a king. You are supposed to create an army. That’s what kings do.”

  Rezkin said, “They have other reasons to be interested in me.”

  While Tam might not follow through on that line of thought, Rezkin knew that, with the seed planted, the strikers would not stop until they knew his secrets. It was inevitable that they would figure it out, eventually.

  “This is one of those things you’re not going to tell me, isn’t it?”

  Rezkin tilted his head. “If I do not go to them, they will continue to seek me, and there is a greater chance one of you will get hurt.”

  “But you said they protect the innocent!”

  “They seek to protect you from becoming one of us. Some of them would rather see ro dead than tarnished.”

  “So, you’re saying that you’re going into a den of assassins who hate you and would kill me so that I don’t end up like them.”

  “Now, do you see why you cannot go with me?”

  “How is the garden?” said Frisha.

  Apprentice Mage Aplin Guel stood from where he had been planting new seedlings in the freshly tilled soil. He wiped his hands on his robes and tossed chocolate locks from his eyes.

  “Greetings, Lady Frisha and Lord Tieran. The plants are doing well out here. We are still having trouble getting anything to grow in the city, though. I think maybe it has to do with the soil.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, soil needs decaying plant material, insects, worms and the like if new plants are to survive. Otherwise, well, it is just sediment. Nothing was living within the city for the longest time. Mage Morgessa is considering replacing what is there with fresh soil from beyond the corveua.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  Tieran said, “Show her your project.”

  Frisha forgave him the interruption upon hearing the excitement in his voice.

  Aplin chuckled and said, “Ah, Lord Tieran, I do not think Lady Frisha would be interested—”

  “Nonsense, it is fantastic. Show her.”

  Frisha smiled at the mage’s endearing embarrassment. Aplin was a handsome young man a few years her senior. According to his masters, he already had several accomplishments to his name, not that he ever spoke of them,. Aplin was not the sort to brag.

  “Yes, my lord, if you insist.” He glanced at Frisha and said, “Please, come this way, Lady Frisha.”

  Little white creatures scurried between them, lugging pots and gardening tools to various parts of the garden. The mage led Frisha and Tieran around a path and through another garden to a newly constructed building that lay just outside the corveua. It had a stone frame and was open on the sides and top. She could not see them, but Aplin explained that the open spaces were covered by wards.

  “We can change the wards to permit different amounts of light, water, and air.”

  “I suppose that sounds important,” Frisha said. “I have heard that some plants prefer more light than others.”

  Aplin smiled. He smiled often, Frisha had noticed, and his smile was easy, genuine. “Yes, and this structure allows us to control many factors that are important for experimentation. I have never seen one so simple to maintain. Journeyman Battle Mage Wesson made the wards. I am ashamed to admit that, like the other mages, I was skeptical that someone with a natural destructive affinity could create anything this efficient and stable. These wards are much simpler in design than what I am used to seeing, and they require less frequent charging. I would love to be able to create something this refined.”

  “Have you considered working with him?” Frisha said.

  “Me? Oh, no. I have not worked up the nerve to approach him.”

  “You are afraid to speak to Wesson? I’m sure he would be happy to meet you. He is knowledgeable and kind, very much like you.”

  “Th-thank you, Lady Frisha,” he said.

  His gaze dropped to the ground, and Frisha realized how her words had sounded even thou
gh she had spoken only truth.

  Tieran cleared his throat. “Shall we see your work?”

  “Oh, yes! Here,” Aplin said as he skirted a massive table in the center of the structure, leading them toward the rear. On either side were long tables covered with potted plants, sacks of soil, pitchers, and gardening tools. At the end of the room was a small tree. Its trunk was bent, and its gangly limbs were twisted to fit within the confines of the building. The bark was nearly black, and the leaves were small, crimson things with many points. Amongst the leaves were orange and purple orbs of varying sizes.

  “This is what I made,” Aplin said, and Tieran grinned in appreciation.

  “You made a tree?” said Frisha.

  Aplin looked at the plant again. “Ah, I guess it does look like a tree now that it has grown. It is actually a mass of vines. They are so tightly entwined that it looks like a single, large trunk. I did not make it exactly. I mean, we cannot create life, but we do breed different plants together to develop new ones.”

  “Don’t farmers do that kind of thing?”

  “Yes, but we tweak them with vimara. Sometimes we are able to combine plants in ways that would not be possible under mundane conditions. It is like making a mage material, only with something living. We call them vimaral plants. Some mages do it with animals, but the practice is highly regulated by the Mage Academy, and it is almost impossible to obtain the necessary permits. There are fewer restrictions on creating vimaral plants. This one is a combination of the beans we brought on the ship and a plant one of the mountain men collected somewhere across the bowl.” He frowned. “I think we are all tired of beans. We have not identified many edible native plants on the island, at least not any that taste good. Lord Tieran has been encouraging us to make something more appetizing.”

  Tieran grinned and rocked on his feet. “It is a serious priority.”

  Aplin reached up and plucked an orb the size of his fist. “They start out orange. As they ripen, they darken to purple. This one looks perfect.” He handed the fruit to Frisha. “Go on. Try it.”