The Last Praetorian

by Christopher Anderson

  “So that’s it, your father made you swear an oath—to what?”

  “What?” Once again, Loki defied Tarion’s staunch logic. Here he was ready to skewer the God, but Loki was going on about something else entirely.

  “What did your father ask you to do that required an oath?” Loki’s demeanor gave no hint that he was in mortal danger. Rather it was as if he played the entire scene up for this purpose. “Tarion, this is important; what is it you’re bound to do?”

  Tarion released Loki and collapsed in his chair. What did Loki know? Whatever it was, he couldn’t let him in on the truth of the Wanderer’s weakness. “I’m to find the Wanderer; the diamond will help me find him.”

  Loki’s brows rose until they almost disappeared beneath his sandy hair. He stroked his narrow, pointed beard and slowly shook his head. Sitting down, he mused, “So Midgard’s great mystery deepens. Did Tarius know why the Wanderer didn’t face the Destructor at Durnen-Gul?”

  Tarion laughed and turned back to his ale. “Isn’t that what everyone has been asking, including your master?”

  Loki chuckled, and said, “Well said! Still, where could he be; everyone. I mean every one, has been looking for him for over an age. Why do you think no one has found him?”

  “I don’t know, and even if I did,” Tarion began, but Loki interrupted him, a sharp gleam in his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t tell me, I know.” Loki pursed his lips and his face became a severe scowl. “Listen, I’m trying to work with you, Tarion. I’ve always liked you. I only have your best interests in mind!” He meant to smile in as sincere a manner as possible, but quite suddenly, his tongue felt as though it was dipped in Und’s own brimstone. He yelped in pain, grabbing his jack of ale and dousing his burning mouth. It didn’t help.

  Tarion laughed, exposing the wergild given to him by the Bishop. It was glowing. He said, “The Creator hasn’t forgotten about you Loki; that should comfort you! Now why don’t you try the truth before more than your tongue burns?”

  The Trickster shook his head angrily, admitting, “There’s no hiding from the Creator! Oh very well, you know the Dread Lord tasks me. You know he wants you under his thumb, as bait for the Wanderer. Believe me; you don’t want to be where he wants to put you!”

  The Trickster rested his head on his long fingered hand, the fingers absently stroked his beard as if ever sharpening its point. “That’s what I’m here for; that’s my business—you!” Loki ran his fingers through his lank hair, glancing to both sides. He whispered, “I’ll be straight with you Tarion. My business is all about the Destructor’s dominion. I have a place there, you understand, but being the Duke of Pandemonium isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—I want an alternative. You see Tarion; I know what the Wanderer can do. I’ve seen him. He has a chance, slight though it may seem, to prevent the Destructor’s dominion. While that chance exists, I need to give myself a place in that reality as well. Do you see?”

  “I understand your position Loki,” Tarion said carefully.

  Loki picked up the sapphire and put it in his tunic. Then he thought better about it, or so he wished to make it seem, and set it on the table again. With a flip of his gangly fingers, he started it spinning. “Why not,” he shrugged. “Take it as a token of my sincerity. There are no strings attached Tarion. It’s the heart of a storm elemental, Victus Ventus. It is similar in nature to the heart of an earth elemental, the Terra Ventus; in that, properly removed and cured this has very special powers. The Terra Ventus transports you through the earth. This little bauble does so through the air; it will take you to the corners of the earth if you wish. It might come in very useful in your search for the Wanderer. Take it as a token, I ask nothing of you in return.”

  #

  Tarion wrestled with his self-doubt. After a long draught of ale, he asked himself what his gut instincts were. That was plain. Loki was not to be trusted and anything he had in mind Tarion should avoid. The urge to refuse grew even stronger, but Tarion’s self-doubt was a powerful motivator. His father said he’d need help. Loki’s clues enabled them to put off the Destructor’s dominion. Without his help, the game would be irrevocably lost. Could the Wanderer be the one behind this stone?

  He reached for the sapphire, but as he was about to take it a hand grabbed his wrist. It was slight, fair and completely transparent. Tarion looked up to see the specter of a tall elf.

  The elf wasn’t looking at him. In a thin, tortured voice the elf said, “Enough Loki, Tarion doesn’t need your help.”

  “Alfrodel!” Loki exclaimed irritably. “Wasn’t death, exile and eternal damnation enough for you? Beware, Elf King and don’t interfere with my errands!”

  The elf laughed in a fluttering sort of way that was altogether tragic and said, “There’s nothing you can do to me, Loki. Now get you gone before I tell Tarion what that stone was about to do. Your hide isn’t as thick as that of Gaurnothax!”

  “Alright, Alfrodel, but you misconstrue my motives—somewhat at least.” He looked at Tarion with a strange twisted smile. “I’m sorry Tarion, I wish you well and I really mean that. You and I were friends once and who knows what the future might bring. Alfrodel will have some weary tales to tell, but listen up, mind you, they’re important. Watch your back! We’ll meet again before too long, one way, or another.” He took the sapphire and disappeared.

  The shade watched Loki go and turned on Tarion with unmistakable anger. “Are you mad? I didn’t dare the tedium of Limbo just to watch you destroy my world in a single day!”

  Tarion stared at the ghost, wondering why he should intercede on Tarion’s behalf, but Loki’s game was uppermost in his mind. “What is it you saved me from, Alfrodel?”

  “He wanted to send you to the Destructor, Tarion! Isn’t that enough? You’re not strong enough; indeed, no one is strong enough for that interview. Don’t tempt the Norns, Tarion. They are fickle in their favors, believe me.”

  “Your hints mean nothing to me, Alfrodel. What’s this about?”

  Alfrodel was incredulous. “You gained my trust and used it to destroy me, Tarion.”

  Tarion was too stunned to answer.

  The ghost clasped his transparent brow and wailed, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be an elven ghost? I can’t live in the world and I can’t die and become one with the world! I’ve been relegated to deathly mortality!”

  The tavern grew noticeably quiet. Everyone was staring at Alfrodel.

  The elf turned away. “I opened the gate for the Wanderer as promised. I’ve done enough. I don’t owe you anything more.” He wafted through the crowd. Folk looked after him, but more out of curiosity, as if his appearance wasn’t unusual and he drifted toward the door.

  Tarion cursed under his breath and went after the ghost. “Alfrodel don’t turn your back on me!”

  Alfrodel sailed through the door and Tarion ran headlong into it before realizing he’d have to open it. There was some scattered laughter. He threw the portal open and rushed outside.

  It was cold and dark after the warmth of the common room. Tarion’s breath steamed. The ghost wasn’t on the porch. Looking around Tarion spied Alfrodel glimmering by the river. He ran after him. When he caught up to the ghost, he asked, “Why haunt me if you’re not going to enlighten me, Alfrodel? Where is the Wanderer? Answer me!”

  Alfrodel turned and smiled thinly, saying, “I don’t know, Tarion. What little I do know would only serve to confound you further.”

  “Then why haunt me?”

  Alfrodel turned on Tarion and his eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Because somehow you are the only hope of this world, my world, that’s why! I sacrificed my life to open the gate from Limbo and lead the Wanderer to the mortal world—you and your father set that trap for me. Now he’s free of Limbo, but he will not face the Destructor.”

  “Why didn’t he face the Destructor when you called him?”

  “I can only guess that he was too weak; what I saw was but a shadow of a man. His life-force
was barely discernable from the gray on gray world that is Limbo; the spark of his immortal spirit was that close to going out for all time.”

  Tarion ran his hand through his hair. “So he’s disappeared into our world, and I am fated to find him.” He glanced up at the ghost. Alfrodel appraised him with glowing eyes. “Our plight grows worse. Everything I’ve touched has turned to dust.”

  “Then you understand my regrets as well, Tarion.” The ghost floated back to the river and waved a transparent hand at the wharf. “Look at this: a mishmash of quays, shops, rocks, weeds and such. In my time—even in your youth—the mortals of the Imperium would never allow such squalor. They had pride in their world. It’s a shame, but I’m afraid the same thing happened to my people under my rule. That’s the hardship of exile and the doom at the end of the world—a doom you helped to bring about.”

  “Me,” Tarion said angrily. “Alfrodel my life has been about stopping it!”

  The ghost was silent.

  “If you won’t enlighten me, then why are you haunting me?” Tarion was angry now and he reached for the collar of the ghost’s cloak. His hands went right through the apparition.

  Alfrodel smiled again in an irritating manner and said, “I have to admit this is the most amusement I’ve had in an age. It’s a tiny bit of revenge for what you’ve put me through.”

  “After what you did to me and my family, how can you say I wronged you, Alfrodel?”

  The ghost of Alfrodel stooped and picked up a rock. With a flick of the wrist, he sent the stone skidding over the waters. Alfrodel closed his glowing eyes and shook his head, “You’ve no idea how much effort that takes. It’s such a simple thing and yet it’s almost beyond me now. That’s the gift of choice, Tarion. That’s what this is all about.”

  “And what do I have to do with that?” Tarion asked.

  “With choice—everything,” Alfrodel said and the smile reappeared.

  “Does everyone in Midgard speak in riddles?” Tarion asked sarcastically.

  “It’s only a riddle if you can’t see the answer,” Alfrodel said. “And what I see, I can’t tell you; I can’t make any sense of it.”

  Tarion had enough. He no longer wanted whatever Alfrodel could give him. “Very well, Alfrodel, you win. Nothing you have is worth this. I’ll go see if Loki’s offer is still good!”

  “No!” the ghost called and Tarion turned to see Alfrodel flying toward him. The ghost didn’t stop, but leapt within Tarion.

  #

  Despite his bravado, Loki was concerned. His idea for getting Tarion to Durnen-Gul through guile failed but it was enlightening. Other powers were watching the Praetorian. He’d have to consider them. Still, this was by no means a satisfactory effort as far as the Destructor was concerned. He was mulling over other methods of accomplishing his mission without undue risk when Koth walked in the door.

  Koth was a gyran; a half-mortal and half-giant. He wore the yellow cloak and short tunic and trousers of Sunkaron. Five of his compatriots, all mortal men, followed. Sunkaron, once known as Aegyptus, was formerly one of the nine duchies of the Imperium. Now, it was the chief mortal province of the Destructor’s dominion. Still, some things remained normal—trade being one of them.

  Koth and his companions exchanged greetings with the locals. Yet Koth had other business and Loki knew what it was: Hrolf’s lovely daughter Aubrey. She had a fiery spirit to match her looks and that attracted the gyran like flame to oil. This was the night he’d propose to her—as he had thousands of nights before. The ending was always the same: Aubrey’s refusal and tragedy.

  “Well, I mark there’s going to be a different ending for someone tonight,” Loki leered. “This could be to my advantage.”

  “Ho, Aubrey, tell me you’re not going to waste your beauty in this drafty tavern forever!” Koth said, greeting her with a slap on her curvaceous backside—the unwelcome advance elicited a very unladylike curse from Aubrey. He laughed again and said, “The world is moving on once more, if rumor in the street can be believed. The sunny climes and civilized manners of Sunkaron are best for you. There you can leave this chaos behind and embrace the orderly way of the future world. Come now, what more could you want, unless it’s the opportunity to bear my sons!” Koth and his cronies laughed at his crass behavior and called for ale. Aubrey was unimpressed.

  “If that is your idea of a proposal, Koth, then you must get your bravado from the same dung heap as your manners!”

  Loki smiled with evil glee as Aubrey complained to her mother, who in turn complained to Hrolf. Loki, of course, heard everything that transpired.

  “Father,” Augga said, with ill-concealed anger, “I’ve had about enough of this ruffian’s behavior. If Koth can’t keep his paws off my girl then I want him out!”

  “Now Mother, I’ve no liking for him either, but I can’t banish every patron who shows a liking for Aubrey,” Hrolf objected. “If I did that, we’d have no one left!”

  “Hrolf, how am I supposed to get the girl married with Koth all over her?” she retorted. “He’s scared off every prospective suitor in the city. Are you going to doom her to be a spinster, or are you going to do something about it?” When Hrolf made no immediate move to thwart Koth, Augga clapped her hands together. “If you won’t do anything about it, then, maybe you should have this new friend of yours talk to him. He killed Gaurnothax, so putting a gyran in his place should come as child’s play!”

  “Mother I can’t ask that of him!”

  “Then a spinster she’ll be!” Augga said in exasperation and she stormed off.

  Loki’s sharp features glowed with mischief and he drained his ale. Subtly he intercepted Hrolf’s wife. Holding out his tankard for a refill, he said innocently, “Good evening, dear lady and a busy evening we’ve had, what with dragons and gyrans!”

  “Indeed, we have, sir, but my mind’s still awhirl. They say time is moving on again and I say what balderdash—as if time itself could stop! Then there’s that dragon, Gaurnothax, who has taken ten years off my life; Tarion from Roma and all the strange talk about him; and now there’s that ruffian Koth!” she sighed. “What’s a mother to do?”

  Loki laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder and offered her his handkerchief. “There, there my good matron, be at ease! How can I stand by when your lovely daughter is in such straits and I have a solution?” Augga’s eyes brightened and Loki continued. “I think it’s obvious that Koth’ attentions need to be redirected, don’t you think?” Loki waited for Augga to nod. “You’ve already struck the answer, haven’t you? You have a rare wisdom.”

  “I do?” the lady blushed.

  “Absolutely,” Loki smiled.

  “Hrolf never listens to me!”

  “Men never see wisdom until they attain my grand age, even when the answer’s right in front of their noses! You are astute: Tarion is the answer to many dilemmas. I shouldn’t say this, but you’ve no idea the worth of that man.”

  “A dragonslayer would be very worthy, I should think.”

  Loki laughed, “Tarion, a mere adventurer? Oh, it’s true that he travels under humble guise, but that’s not a tenth of his story. This is not a simple adventurer or ex-legionary; no lass, Tarion commanded legions. You might say he is the legionary, for he is in fact none other than Tarion son of Tarius, the Praetorian. No greater lord has ever set foot in this hall but for your patron Thor and myself of course.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am, dear lady, I know him well.”

  Augga’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Is he rich?”

  “Oh quite,” Loki laughed. “He’s also available. Indeed, he might be cajoled into solving this little problem for you.”

  “I’m at my wits end, sir.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as if a sudden thought dashed all her hopes. “Begging your pardon sir, but we do here of Roma still, Hrolf coming from the siege and wizardly news and such. I thought the Praetorian, this Tarion if you are correct; I thought he was betrothed to the
emperor’s daughter Minerva.”

  “Now dear lady,” Loki smiled, showing all of his bright white teeth even to his molars. “This is Diocletian we’re talking about, the same emperor that voided the marriage of Tarius and forced Tarion’s father to marry the elven king’s princess Glorianna—Tarion’s betrothed. That wasn’t enough, as after Tarion became the Praetorian, Diocletian feared for his throne. He cut off Tarion’s engagement to Minerva, leaving Tarion with glory, power and wealth but no one to help him enjoy those accolades!”

  Augga looked doubtful. “Do you really think he’d be interested in Aubrey—she’s a barmaid?”

  Loki’s smile twisted with inner glee and he said, “Since when has station supported love? Tarion finds her comely. He just needs a bit of an extra shove. Aubrey should pay attention to him at every turn and if Koth takes offense—what of it? The problem will then resolve itself!”

  Chapter 14: Revelation

  “What did you do that for?” Tarion asked Alfrodel angrily, but when he opened his eyes, the ghost wasn’t there and he wasn’t at the riverside.

  He stood inside a mighty woodland hall. Gilded pillars supported a lofty roof of carved beams and crystal panes. There were no walls. The manicured forest was as much a part of the hall as the beautifully worked wood and stone. As if to emphasize this, a clear stream ran down the center of the hall forming a clear pool at one end. Reflected in the pool was a raised dais of turf. Upon the dais was a gilded throne. The throne glittered in the beams of sunlight. It seemed to float on the slight morning mist wafting through the hall, lending the elven place an element of mysterious splendor.

  “I’m sorry, King Alfrodel, what was that?” asked a smooth, powerful voice. Tarion turned to see an elf of dark complexion and penetrating eyes standing next to him. It was Ancenar. The elven lord looked at him, prompting Tarion to stop and look at his reflection in the pool. He was in the body of Alfrodel. This must be one of the elven king’s memories. He straightened and glanced behind.