Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1)

by Kameron A. Williams

  “What miserable place do you come from that you mistake our simple hospitality for a trick?”

  “Krii,” Zar replied with a chuckle. “How much did you hear?”

  “Not enough, I’m certain.”

  “Too much, I’m certain,” Zar replied.

  “You’ve seen much of the worst kind of people,” said Rhea.

  “And how do you know that?” Zar questioned.

  “Because that’s what causes one to see the worst in people.”

  “Is that certainly so?”

  Rhea giggled and sat down on the ground next to Asha, running a hand over her golden coat. “You talk to her?”

  “Aye,” Zar answered.

  “And does she talk back?”

  “Of course,” Zar assured, “or else why would I bother?”

  The princess laughed.

  24

  “MONKS HAVE TEMPLES, priests have altars, but here, like this, is when we’re closest to the One.”

  Zar watched Prince Alyn as he spoke, lying on the ground with his back and head in the grass, kicking his legs and waving his arms like a small child playing. The man looked to be right at home.

  “You can learn a lot out here,” the man continued, “when you’re alone and there’s no noise but the sounds of nature.”

  “I’ve been alone in nature countless times,” said Zar, “just as you say, but I still haven’t learned what you’ve learned.”

  “Oh?” Alyn looked at Zar with a curious smile. “What have I learned that you haven’t?”

  Zar sat down next to him in the grass. “I don’t know, but you have something.”

  “And what is that? What do I have?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Zar laughing. “That’s why I said something. If I knew what it was I would have said it.” Both men chuckled then Zar continued, “You’re at peace, that much I know—peace with yourself.”

  Alyn turned his head towards Zar and squinted slightly. “And you are not?”

  “No.”

  “That came quickly,” said Alyn, showing Zar a grin.

  “Because it’s the truth,” said Zar, smiling briefly before pulling his face back straight again. “I’m very much at odds with myself.”

  “Why?” Prince Alyn’s inquiry was slow and deliberate.

  Though Zar had never spoken to anyone save Asha on the subject, he wanted to share his thoughts with the man. “Because of things I’ve done.”

  “They are in the past,” said Alyn, grabbing a handful of grass and plucking it. “Things in the past belong to the past, so leave them there.” The prince cast the pieces of grass into the wind and watched the breeze carry them away.

  “So it’s you and your sister that are philosophers.” Zar laughed.

  “Aye,” the prince replied, laughing. “She spends as much time out here as I do, perhaps more. You learn a lot out here when you’re alone—and when you’re quiet enough to listen. You are burdened by your past—”

  “Oh, is that what nature told you?” Zar bantered.

  Alyn grinned. “That’s what you’ve told me, but it is unnecessary to be burdened so.”

  “You put it so simply, prince, and I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. A quiet royal life in a country as sweet as this must make most things seem simple.”

  The prince shuffled in the grass and looked towards Zar with raised brows. “Are you a fortune teller or a witch that you know the events of my past? We all have phantoms lurking in our past. You think I don’t? Why? Because I’m royalty? I have many. Mine differ from yours, but are no better. Don’t you see, they make us strong, and while they will always be a part of us only we decide who we will become.

  “My mother was a witch—not Queen Kora, but my birth mother. While father was away on campaigns to unite the kingdom I witnessed my mother practicing her arts, screaming over fires and bones, and drawing strange symbols across the ground. It always frightened me, and I would never take part in it, but my older sister—my sister who is now gone—would practice the arts with my mother. I was a small boy when I first learned that my sister had been practicing those arts as well, and by that time, well, I’m certain it had been going on for quite some time. But I never joined in. Honestly, I was afraid of it.

  “Mother said she did it for my father. She said she did it so he would come home safe, so he would be victorious in battle, and he always was. Every time I witnessed it, she would make me swear not to tell Father, for she had told my father before they were wed that she had denounced all of her old ways. Father was brought up as a strict disciple of the One God, and as a follower of the One could permit no witch to live, let alone marry one.

  “My father knew of her old ways, he knew of her past, but he loved her. He loved her, and he thought she could change, but she didn’t. Probably she didn’t feel the need to. She never imagined that he would kill her, and by himself, he couldn’t. But with the insistence of his family, his brothers and sisters in the faith, his priest, and perhaps with the idea that it was the One God’s will, he was very much capable.

  “And more than that, I’m sure she never imagined her son would break his promise and tell his father that she was still practicing the dark arts, even supplying evidence of bones and ornaments, and showing Father markings on the floor that were covered by furs. She never imagined it. But I did it. I thought I was doing the right thing by telling my father and it caused my mother’s death and my sister’s banishment. My mother was beheaded and my sister, still just a girl, was sent to the east continent on a summer ship that was never expected to make the journey to Krii. It was just as much a death sentence as my mother’s beheading, except it left some small piece of hope that she could have survived, a small piece of heart left for my father.

  “I gave her a parting gift. I was so ashamed of what I had done that I couldn’t bear to face her myself. It was my Leviathan’s claw that I had found while exploring the mountains one day. She had always wanted it. I etched my name in it first, then I gave it to one of my guards to give to her.

  “That story is a truth that can never be undone. My father—as he is now—would never have allowed my mother to be executed and my sister banished, even if it did mean breaking his religious vows. He’s a different man now, but without all that ugliness, perhaps he’d still be the same. It takes grave mistakes for us to grow into who we are meant to be, even if it seems unfair to those around us. Whether we like it or not, our past helps us grow into the men we are meant to be.

  “So,” Alyn continued with a smile, “would you hear more stories of my quiet royal life?”

  Zar returned a grin, put his head down and shook it slowly. “And here I thought I was joking about you being a philosopher.”

  The two men laughed.

  “Enough of that grave talk,” said Prince Alyn, “but let’s continue on this topic, speaking freely, and perhaps we can lighten your burden just a bit, because I truly don’t believe there is any need for it.”

  “Aye,” Zar agreed. “I dare say it feels quite refreshing to talk to someone other than Asha about these matters.”

  “Asha?” The prince questioned. “Your camel? Are you completely mad?” Alyn laughed out the words.

  “Not completely,” Zar replied. “She always lends an ear, but I’m afraid she doesn’t completely understand.”

  Alyn only laughed.

  “How can I pretend to be a good man when I’ve been so wicked in the past?”

  “You’re pretending?” Alyn questioned.

  “Certainly not. I have changed, but it isn’t enough to make up for the old man that I was—and what he did. When I’m in the company of people who are truly good, I know I’m not one of them.”

  “I can understand your position. Every person needs a place. A person without a purpose makes quite a mess trying to find one. As far as those who are truly good, as you say, well—no man in the One God’s world is truly good, but the fact that you are burdened by this speaks for itself. If evi
l didn’t trouble you then that would be far more concerning. Wicked men don’t feel shame over doing wicked things.” The prince hopped up from off the grass and climbed onto his horse. “Let us ride. I’ll show you the wonders of this city.”

  Zar wasted no time mounting Asha and making after Alyn’s mount that was already trotting off across the plain. Alyn brought them to the outskirts of Xuul, where the Twisted Pillars of Yew encompassed the city. They rode leagues besides the yew’s and watched as their formation curved around the city, each tree different than the next, some with engraved names and words from ages ago when they were yet trees of wood.

  Next the prince led Zar out of the valley and up through the mountains, and when they had traveled to the high places in the hills, Alyn brought them to a peak that provided a clear view of the entire city in the valley below, sunken into the ground as if it had been cast from the heavens by the One himself. He could see the entire ring of yew trees King Xarus of Xuul had planted to surround his royal city. He could see the very roof of the palace. He could see the tops of all the buildings, the inns, the shops, the cottages, and little black specks of people moving around them.

  Atop a northern hill on the outskirts of the city, four large buildings stood. “What are those?” Zar asked.

  “Granaries,” Alyn replied. “We not only feed the people here in the valley. In the winter, those from all corners of the land come for food. We feed them all.”

  Zar looked to Alyn without attempting to hide his surprise. “How are you able to do this?”

  “With four giant granaries,” said Alyn with a chuckle. “As king of Xuul, my father has thousands of men in his employ. Tens of thousands. With so many hands and a clear purpose it’s simple to achieve a common goal. That goal being food, of course.”

  “It’s—good.” Zar stared upon the kingdom with unblinking eyes. “Why is it so good?” Zar asked, standing a bit entranced. He realized he had said it aloud as he saw Alyn’s face react to his words. “Why is this land so good?”

  “This land is no paradise,” said Alyn, looking down upon the city below. “But we are unified—one land under one ruler, one people.” Alyn pulled an item from his waist purse, held it up briefly for Zar to see and tossed him the object. “Look.”

  Zar swung his hand for the shiny object and the piece of metal sunk into his palm. He opened his hand to find a golden coin, the visage of a man engraved in its center. Zar studied the face in the coin, the hair, the crown—all had been chiseled with such detail. “This is your father’s face.”

  “Aye,” answered Alyn. “We aim to have a general currency, with these coins minted from gold to be given out—every family a specified amount based on its size—to encourage buying and selling and to equalize the levels of wealth among the people. For one family to be rich while the next is starving is unacceptable. And still, for some, it would be the first piece of gold they ever held.”

  “You royals of Xuul certainly know what you’re doing, “said Zar. “The plan makes sense. How long before you carry this out?”

  Alyn looked at Zar and grinned, then looked back down into the distance and shook his head slowly. “When we find the gold.”

  “Gold?” Zar questioned. “Are there no mines? This is the richest land I’ve ever—”

  “We are rich in food, in health, and in history,” said Alyn, “but gold and silver are sparse. Gold hasn’t been mined here since before the great flood. We have no gold in this land.”

  “I daresay you’re quite wrong about that,” Zar offered with a smirk. “Not even a month ago I was standing in a great pit of gold and gemstones.”

  Alyn laughed. “Always the jester, are you?”

  “Not this time. There may be no gold mines anymore, but what of the treasuries of the wealthy adventurers that lived before the flood when this land was rich?”

  Alyn’s brow rose and he grinned slightly, looking quite intrigued. “King Xarus was strong and he was loved, but aside from the marbled yew trees and a few unique trinkets he left nothing in the way of gold. The first to dig out the drowned city spent ten years digging for wealth as well—what little was found is still retained by my family today. Captain Goldhand was rumored to be the richest pirate to sail the blue, but it’s a well known fact he died at sea, and all of this gold and treasures sunk to the deeps with him. Bruudor was rumored to—”

  “Aye, Bruudor,” Zar interrupted. “What of Bruudor?

  And what of his keep?”

  “The rumor is there is a map to Bruudor’s Keep,” said Alyn. “Some say it’s here in Serradiia, others say it’s hidden in Krii. No one has found it.”

  “Three men found it,” said Zar, “and two of them fought each other while I took it. I daresay they killed each other over it.”

  Alyn watched Zar’s face in silence. “What do you say?”

  he finally said.

  “I have found the keep,” said Zar. “I cannot deny I once thought it to be nothing more than a myth, but a most interesting series of events led me to the place.”

  “If you have found Bruudor’s treasure it would be wise not to tell anyone at all,” said Prince Alyn, smiling slightly.

  “Aye, if I planned to keep it. I’ll take a sum of the treasure, to compensate my good friend Prynner who gave me the map, but I have a small keep of my own hidden back in Krii—from me and Asha’s adventuring. I would give the rest to you—to this kingdom. After all, it seems what I seek I cannot buy with gold.”

  Alyn’s eyes never moved from Zar’s. “You would do this? Why?”

  “Why?” said Zar, chuckling. “Why, he asks, why. I offer you Bruudor’s Keep and you ask me why?”

  “Your offer is, of course, appreciated,” said the prince, his eyes looking wide with wonder.

  “Because I believe in this place,” said Zar. “You and your family have done many good things with this land, and with Bruudor’s treasure I know that you’ll do many more good things. I cannot say that about the royals in my own country.”

  Alyn squinted slightly as he showed Zar a look of determination. “Your charity will be known throughout this kingdom.”

  “I do not do this for praise,” said Zar.

  “I know,” Alyn replied, then fell quiet as he looked to Zar in silence. His lips began to stretch in a grin, but then pursed as Zar’s eyes fell upon him. He looked to be biting his tongue.

  “Speak, prince,” said Zar. “What is it?”

  Alyn let his smile shine through. “How much gold is there, exactly?”

  25

  ZAR HAD NEVER BEEN MUCH for statues and idols—but that golden Leviathan—seeing it melted down from its grand form into a swamp of glowing formlessness felt somehow like an atrocity. But that’s what Zar and Alyn had decided to do. It would provide far more for far more people rendered to thousands of coins than mounted on a wall decorating the royal hall.

  Zar had thought he had seen all of the wonders of Xuul—the Twisted Pillars of Yew, the majestic mountaintop view of the city, the architecture of the buildings, and the kindness and benevolence of the warm and open royal family—but these things were grains of sand in the sea compared to the ceremony the king held after he and Alyn returned from retrieving Bruudor’s treasure. Zar would never forget the scene.

  It was late morning and the chapel bell chimed. Zar left his chamber to find Princess Rhea standing suspiciously outside the door. She smiled, grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. Zar felt the intent in her soft and zealous hand, and as the bell over the Place of Prayer sang louder in his ears, his blood stirred in quiet suspense.

  They came to the chapel, nearly every seat occupied.

  The royal family sat in a row of seats upon the dais, and as Zar drew closer to them he realized the two empty seats he saw were for him and the princess. Moments after they took their seats, King Aron stood and the people attended.

  “We are assembled here this day to give thanks to the One, and to recognize his servant, Zar, who has come to us fr
om afar, and has given his heart and his treasure to the commonwealth of Xuul. He has come to us from across the sea—even now in the season of the dragon—and did contend with the beast of the blue, and triumphed over it to land on the shores of Tiran. Rise, Zar, and approach.”

  Rhea giggled and whispered, “Go,” into Zar’s ear, and he figured he had sat idle longer than the second it seemed like to him. He approached the king.

  “Kneel before the One God,” said the king. Zar knelt.

  “From this day hence you are my son, my blood, a prince of Xuul—with all of the liberties, privileges, and honors bestowed upon one that holds such royal title. Know that it is not the gold you give, but your act of giving that affords you such recognition. Now, rise, Zar, Prince of Xuul, Leviathan’s Contender, and Patron of the Lost City.”

  The audience clapped and cheered. They were all royals of the court, many blood to the king and queen, yet Zar could see sincerity in their eyes, and they all looked upon him as royalty, as a genuine member of their family, as if he was a blood-born son to Aron and Kora themselves.

  Zar felt like a new man. He was a new man. He held his head differently, spoke differently, walked differently, even smiled differently. Even a year a later, spending his second autumn in Xuul, his fingers tingled differently as he sent an arrow deep into a target. Even that arrow seemed to fly differently.

  “Good!” Alyn called. “Let’s see if I can match it.”

  “We both know you can,” said Zar, watching Prince Alyn as he knocked and drew his arrow. Alyn sighted down the shaft for a few brief seconds before letting the arrow fly. Zar’s sunken arrow shaft shifted in the target as Alyn’s squeezed in next to it, splintering the red-painted wooden surface of the target.

  “But do go on,” said Alyn. “Finish telling me about this Tuskin fellow. From what you’ve told me so far the man is quite interesting.”

  “Aye,” Zar agreed, laughing. “So after surprising me in the deerskin, we started talking about our land, what the realm was planning to do, what the Condor were planning to do, what he was planning to do.”