Argus sat silently for a moment. He would need to consult his scrolls later that evening. “Well, I hope your men find him soon, sire, or the situation could become even more humiliating for you.”
Gastious shifted in his chair.
“Pardon me, sire,” Argus continued, “but these are the sorts of situations that feed into the hands of resistance movements.”
“There’s no resistance to speak of in Jeandania,” Gastious muttered. “We have dealt with the clans, and I’m dealing with Santaque.”
“Can you be sure of that, sire?” Argus asked, refusing to look at Gastious.
Arconus sighed and folded his hands in his lap, ignoring Gastious’s exaggerated breathing. Eventually he answered, “I suppose it could be a gamble, Argus, but I have confidence in my men. I also agree with Gastious. There are only a few pockets of resistance remaining. General Riley is said to have a great deal of support, and could be a problem if he turns on us, but at the moment his loyalty remains with me. In any case, I have plans for him. I am sending him out to the southwest region to deal with the peasants.”
“You must be careful not to make a hero out of this man by sending him on a mission to save the poor.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be a danger. I think you will find support dwindle for the general in the weeks to come, and that will take care of any possible threat from that quarter.”
Argus recognised the reluctance to inform him of Gastious’s mission before the incident at Liam’s tavern, but he inquired nonetheless. “And Santaque?”
Arconus was growing impatient. “Santaque is nothing. He is an idealist, a romantic, and his only supporters are a bunch of hooligans with painted faces. The situation will be remedied shortly.”
“The Talons of Freedom are not children, sire, and this idealism you speak of may be your most dangerous enemy. Do not underestimate Santaque. He is a resourceful man, and if this Liam Foster finds a connection to him through the Talons of Freedom, the variables may become uncontrollable,” Argus warned.
“I have had enough of you for one day, Argus,” Arconus said with a sigh. He waved his hand in a gesture one would use to shoo away a fly. “Go, Argus. Just go.”
Argus stood with dignity. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed to Arconus and left the room, his back to Gastious.
~Æ~
As the door closed behind Argus, Gastious grunted and addressed the King. “Sire, with respect, I must say I think you tell that old warlock too much. I believe you underestimate him.”
“I know more about this man than he thinks, Gastious. He is a man of great power and wisdom, and as long as our needs do not conflict with his, he is a valuable asset. Let me worry about him. You are leaving in the morning to accompany General Theron to Anderath, in the southwest. General Riley will be two days behind you. I will give you and General Theron your final instructions when you depart.”
“I understand, sire,” Gastious answered, and then stood, looking at the ground. “You will see to it that my pets are looked after, Your Highness?” he inquired meekly.
“By Æhlman’s sword!” Arconus threw his hands in the air and looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “They are insects. They don’t need looking after.”
“Sire, the aqueducts provide them ...”
“Yes, Gastious, I will make sure your disgusting little pets are provided with water. Shriver will check the aqueducts twice a day. Now go and prepare for your journey.”
Arconus grabbed Gastious by the wrist. “And Gastious?”
“Yes, sire?” Gastious answered, as the King examined his arm.
“Are you right-handed or left-handed?”
“I am equally skilled with both arms, sire.”
“Good, good,” the King said, and then he pulled Gastious close. The King had to crane his neck to look Gastious in the eye, but there was no doubt who was the dominant of the two. “You failed me in Snake’s Mouth. You lost the boy and Foster.”
“I know, sire. You must punish me.”
“Do not fail me again, Gastious.”
“I will not, sire.”
Arconus released his grip. Gastious bowed and walked backward, head down, towards the door, careful not to turn his back on his King.
“Gastious,” Arconus called.
“Yes, sire.”
“Send Rheul in here.”
Gastious nodded and left the room. Rheul, the King’s domestic secretary, entered shortly thereafter. The timid advisor presented himself. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Tell me all you know about the Talons of Freedom.”
VIII
And whispers of magic rustled in the breezes of the nation, some well meaning, some ill spirited, all shaping the destiny of Jeandania.
– Rustano’s song of the King
Rhemus could sense no danger around him. He could clearly see that his new friend was free of any deceit, anger or ill will; but passing through the entrance to the cavern, he grew afraid and confused. He could tell something was there, some kind of energy, but it had no form. It occurred to him that this must be what people experienced when they spoke of darkness. He had never experienced anything like it.
“Dantun, will you take my hand, please?”
“There is nothing to fear, Rhemus. This is your new home,” said Dantun with quiet sincerity, as he led his friend through the tunnel. “I’ll bet there is going to be a feast for you with music and dancing. We’ll all gather at the bottom and we’ll make the fires for you, and ...” Dantun was his animated self again as he talked about the celebration that was sure to come. Rhemus felt comforted by this and squeezed Dantun’s hand a little harder as they reached the huge cavern at the end of the tunnel.
There was still a hazy quality to the air around him, but Rhemus could sense the energy of living beings nearby. At the end of the tunnel, two Mikraino were standing sentry. Dantun greeted them by name. The sentries had no laughter in them. In fact, there was very little to them at all. It seemed almost as if they were asleep.
“Those guys are full of giggles, aren’t they?” said Dantun sarcastically. “I must take you to see Bandalanu. He is the seer. He has eyes like yours. He is our leader.”
Dantun always loved the moment when he walked through the sentry post and could look down into his home. The cavern was mainly natural, but the Mikraino had carved out a spiralling walkway downward around its edges. From the main entrance, Dantun could see a hundred feet down. There were pockets of activity all along the walkway as people went about their daily chores or, as Dantun hoped, were preparing for the big celebration. Strange, thought Dantun. He had expected people to be waiting at the entrance for them. He thought that everyone would be very excited by this special new addition to their family, yet it looked to be an ordinary day.
“Dantun, I am feeling very tired,” sighed Rhemus, and he plopped to the ground after only a few steps into the cavern.
“No time for that now, Rhemus. We must go to see Bandalanu. He told me not to go anywhere else, and not to wait one second. ‘Just bring the boy straight to me.’ That’s what he said and that’s what I’ll do,” said Dantun, but Rhemus did not respond.
Dantun thought his new friend’s behaviour odd, but he was a seer, and Dantun knew that the behaviour of a seer was unpredictable.
“Oh, fidget, bother, fidget and bother!” Dantun whined. “You are not supposed to fall asleep. You are supposed to come with me to see the seer.”
Dantun pouted, shaking his head and pulling at his hair. He walked back to the sentries at the entrance. “Could you two come help me, please? I need to take the boy to see Bandalanu.”
The guards said nothing. They simply looked at Dantun, smiled faintly, and slowly shook their heads. Dantun looked back at them in wonder. Maybe they had some strange orders he did not know about. They were behaving oddly. They were never the most talkative of his people, but were usually friendly and always quick to lend a hand. Maybe they were just in a bad mood.
/> Dantun shook his head and turned back to Rhemus. He had no choice. He carried him in his arms about twenty feet before having to put him down. Another thirty and he would start running into more Mikraino who might help. He reached down and lifted Rhemus over his shoulder again. He imagined this might leave the boy a little sore when he woke, but Dantun reasoned a few sore ribs would be a fair price for the luxury of being carried down the long walk to the bottom of the pit. Who falls asleep at such a time?
Then he saw his friend walking towards him. He would surely help.
“Radnor! Radnor! Over here, come, please. Will you help me over here, please?” Dantun called.
Radnor looked up, as if to respond, but he looked in the wrong direction. He wore an odd expression, much like the guards. It was a sort of amused, distracted look. Radnor turned around and walked the other way down the spiral path.
“Wait! What are you doing? Come back here, I need your help!” Dantun called. But Radnor just kept walking, casually, as though he hadn’t heard Dantun at all.
“What in Æhlman’s butt is going on here?” Dantun sneered. He was getting very tired, and was becoming a little nervous about losing his balance and falling off the path, but he carried on. He would lift Rhemus and walk about twenty feet, rest, and then pick him up again. He saw a number of Mikraino along the way. Most just walked past him without seeming to notice that he was there. He would call to them; sometimes they would look towards him with a bemused smile, sometimes they would look in another direction.
Gradually Dantun’s bewilderment turned to anxiety, and the anxiety turned to fear. The reactions of his people were more than just a little strange. Terrible questions started formulating in his mind. What if something had happened to Bandalanu, too? What if this was somehow Dantun’s fault? Would Bandalanu be angry with him?
He felt eerily alone in this cavern, surrounded by so many people he knew. These people were his friends, his family, but they were not acknowledging him. He looked over the side of the path and into the deep cavern. All of his life, he had found the Mikraino cavern a comfort. Nature had provided this home for him and his people; strange people, born different, born small. Before today, when he looked down into the cavern, it seemed to invite him in. Here was a place where he was loved and protected. Now he looked into the enormous cavity and felt frightened. Something was very wrong.
He thought of the last time he visited the bottom of the pit, his first personal audience with Bandalanu. He had been given a very important assignment. He had been delighted and proud, and he had promised Bandalanu that he would carry out his mission with honour. He had skipped and jumped most of the way back up the path, excited to tell everybody about his job, and about the new seer. Now Dantun remembered something else that was strange. He never did tell anyone about his mission. Perhaps he was just too excited. Oddly, he remembered running into many of his friends on his way up the path after speaking to Bandalanu. He even recalled being excited to see them so he could tell them the news, but every time he started to speak, the conversation turned in a different direction. It had seemed perfectly natural at the time, but now he found it very curious that it had happened so often. Bandalanu had not forbidden him to speak. He had told Dantun that it was a great day. A seer had been found. There would be a great celebration when Dantun returned with the boy.
A very dark feeling came over Dantun as he continued to struggle, carrying Rhemus towards the bottom of the cavern. People were still milling around him, not noticing him, their eyes looking through him or past him. Dantun wanted to turn back. He began to realise that he was bringing the boy towards danger. The vague awareness began like a hidden thought, but as he continued, the realisation became impossible to ignore. He finally understood. The warm, comfortable cavern of his youth seemed transformed into a gaping, threatening maw, drawing him in against his will, deeper and deeper into the abyss. He no longer wished to continue down the path, but his will was no longer his own. He was beginning to understand the awesome power of those eyes of black. He unwillingly plodded along, tears filling his eyes as he carried little Rhemus closer and closer to Bandalanu.
IX
I have seen soldiers weep in fear at the sounds of the Midnight Wood. The creatures are many, and some are fierce, but none is so fearsome as the Bok. Only a child’s nightmare could compare to the face of one. The beast with a mouth like a man’s but wide as a dog’s, crowded with two rows of jagged teeth. These creatures are deceitful in their beast-like appearance, because they are also cunning.
– From Fedora’s tale, Travels with the Bok
Walking through the dense forest, the sound of men trudging through thick brush, the smell of the vegetation, and of the soldiers around him, reminded Liam of a time he would rather have forgotten. The soreness in his muscles, and the cuts and bruises all over his body completed the experience for him. They walked in single file through the thickening forest. Rhoie held the leaf of a Winstern bush aside for Liam. The leaf was bigger than Rhoie.
“Thank you.”
Rhoie merely nodded. His expression, indeed his entire slumping posture, betrayed the deep pain Liam knew he was feeling. Liam felt it, too. He put a hand on Rhoie’s shoulder as he passed.
“Well, Rhoie,” Liam began as Rhoie filed in line behind him, “I think I’d like to have a talk with your leader, and see what we are up against here.”
Rhoie nodded almost imperceptibly. He walked past Liam, and stood back, recessed into the foliage enough to let the others pass. He put a hand on Liam’s shoulder and gently pulled to indicate he should do the same.
“Blade prefers to be on point, but Dilano argued with him for long enough to convince him to walk in the centre, where the rest of us can protect him,” Rhoie explained. There was a hint of pride in his voice that seemed to lift his spirits a shade.
A few men passed, nodding at Rhoie and Liam respectfully. Liam recognised the leader of the Talons of Freedom before being told who he was. He was no taller or stronger than his brethren, but he walked with the bearing of a leader. Before Rhoie could begin his introduction, Blade noticed Liam, lifted his shoulders and offered his hand. They accepted each other’s forearms into their palms and shook firmly. Liam noted the sinewy strength in Blade’s arm.
“Liam Foster, it’s an honour to finally meet you,” he said. His tone was friendly, but not warm. “I’ve waited until you felt ready to talk, before greeting you.”
“It is indeed a pleasure to meet you as well, Blade.”
The rest of the group had paused for the introduction. Then Blade nodded his head forward, indicating they should move on while they spoke. The group, including Liam, wordlessly obeyed.
“Mr Foster ...”
“Please call me Liam.”
“Liam,” the young man said. “It feels strange to be so familiar with you. I have heard many stories about you. You knew my father.”
“Is that so? What was his name?”
“Kurdon.”
Liam looked carefully into Blade’s eyes.
“Ah, yes,” he finally said. “I see you have his eyes and temperament. You are indeed the son of Kurdon. He was a fine man.”
“I understand you were with him when he died,” Blade asked in a strong, yet cautious tone.
Liam took a deep breath. “It was the final siege of Tobias’s estate. I was there, but not by his side. I was told of his death on the battlefield. It took seven of Tobias’s best to bring him down, and three of them were killed before your father.”
Blade was silent for some time. Finally he asked, “Are there any other Sha’grath left?”
“I believe I am the last. There were only twelve of us to begin with, and we lost nine in the siege. Another died four years later in a drunken bar fight. There is another. I am told he has passed as well, but I don’t know.”
“The fall of King Tobias was a great victory for the rebellion,” Blade asserted.
“Yes, but our man, Torvin, didn’t last much longer tha
n a year, and since then we have had nothing but instability through four separate kings.”
“And now Arconus sits on the throne,” Rhoie spat.
Liam struggled to be patient. Blade began to tell of Arconus’s ruthless crimes, all committed in the name of restoring order after the plague. Rhoie gradually took over the storytelling, with others interjecting key dramatic points along the way. Liam did not doubt the stories, but he had heard it all before. As the young men spoke with the passion of youth, Liam thought of his father’s words, ‘It matters not the size of your broom, it will be insufficient to sweep back the tide.’ While Liam was Sha’grath, he had developed a certain disdain for his father and his pacifism. Now he recognised the wisdom in his words. He wished these young men would abandon their foolish fight and go home, find wives and have some children. That was the truest of noble causes. The fates had taught him this lesson in the cruellest way.
Liam tried to assess the Talons of Freedom. They were backing a man named Santaque, a former general, who had the barest thread of blood claim to the throne. He had betrayed the King, and had become a fairly popular figure in Jeandania. He had been on a conditioning mission at a little cottage inn owned by an elderly couple. As Rhoie told the story, it seemed the husband was a harmless, opinionated type. He would tend to grow more political as the night wore on and the ale barrel grew lighter. Unbeknownst to the husband, one of Arconus’s aides was a guest there one night, and the old man’s opinions were relayed to the King. Santaque marched to the inn, as ordered, and had the old man dragged out into the street. He ordered a sergeant to cut his throat. The sergeant readied the knife under the man’s chin while his wife screamed for mercy. Apparently Santaque had a change of heart at the last moment.
Rhoie was filled with emotion as he quoted the newly-reborn general, “From this day forward, I do not fight for a tyrant. I do not fight for King Arconus. From this day forward, I fight for these two fine citizens of Jeandania. From this day forward, I fight for you.”
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