The Consuls of the Vicariate amob-2

by Brian Kittrell

  “Get him out!” the same vicar shouted, his face red with anger. “He comes to our chamber to insult us? After what we’ve been through?”

  “He comes to our chamber to show us the truth, Vicar Alduin,” Jurgen said, putting his hand on Laedron’s shoulder. “Is it not true that we have been duped into the Zyvdredis’ plans? Used to fight a war that wasn’t ours? The Sorbians have been wronged by Andolis’s actions, and we were victims, too. We can only hope our good deed will be repaid in kind.”

  “Why can’t there be a truce? Sorbia returns to their shores, and we sign a treaty of peace?” Alduin asked.

  Laedron folded his arms. “It won’t be easy. Since Gustav Drakar orchestrated an attack on the Sorbian capital, this war will not be easily undone. Gustav Drakar, a man elevated to the rank of deacon by your church, murdered the crown prince of Sorbia, Prince Zorin, and the rest of the mages present at the Morcaine academy that day. This war is as much a father’s wrath as anything else, the revenge of King Xavier of Sorbia for your mistakes. ”Laedron pointed at the gallery. “You are responsible for this war. Indirectly, perhaps, but responsible nonetheless.”

  “Lies!” Alduin shouted. “How can you prove any of this?”

  “I was there, Your Grace,” Laedron replied with a sneer. “Men in the uniform of your militia guards were with Gustav, indiscriminately killing sorcerers. Their blood is on your hands, for you empowered him to do what he has done.”

  “Calm yourselves, Consuls.” Jurgen waved his hand. “This forum exists for discussion, not for disorder and chaos. Let us speak calmly.”

  “The Sorbians declared war,” Alduin said, clearly not as sure as he had been. “We would never begin a war-”

  “That is beside the point. What you would do and what Andolis and Gustav have done are two different things. Forane was also in on their plans to conspire against the peace and commit murder. Justice has been brought to all of them,” Laedron said. “If given the chance to surrender to Duke Fenric, I would suggest that you take the opportunity and all do your best to keep the populace calm when the Sorbian army arrives. If Vicar Jurgen agrees, I will speak with Duke Fenric personally to request an honorable peace, but you should prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not accept that.”

  “Then, you must do your best,” Alduin said. “Our Falacoran allies just may have purchased us a fair peace with their lives.”

  Alduin returned to his seat. Laedron didn’t get the impression that Alduin’s mind had been changed though, simply that he was biding his time.

  After a long pause, Jurgen said, “I think we should allow my friend to speak to Fenric in the coming days. Inform the people of the presence of the soldiers here and tell them that the war is on hold, at least for now. Advise them to remain in their homes or shops and to travel as little as possible on the streets until the armies have gone. We need not have any encounters-accidental or otherwise-with the Sorbian troops while they are here. We stand adjourned until the morrow.”

  Jurgen led Laedron and the rest of the group out a smaller back exit. “Though I feel we haven’t heard the last from Vicar Alduin, you said what needed to be said.”

  Laedron shrugged. “I merely told the truth.”

  “I know, but the rest of the consulship might have a difficult time believing it.”

  “Why do they act in such a way? As if the war could have been good for them?”

  Jurgen stopped. “When Andolis and Gustav first came to the capital, they pushed everyone to higher aspirations. Long ago, the church occupied a dominant position in the eastern world. It was by the will of the consuls that kings were crowned, that people stood in awe of our sacred cathedrals, and that priests held true respect and authority in society.

  “The days of imperialism are long gone, but the taste of that validation beckoned. Being tired of merely tending the flock, the vicars saw in the Drakars a new beginning, a return to the old ways. Even if just for a passing moment, I entertained the thought of going back to the way things used to be so long ago.”

  “But tending to the flock, as you put it, is the church’s job,” Valyrie said.

  Jurgen nodded and started down the street again. “Yes, of course. This war is a testament to what is possible through avarice, want, and a disregard of one’s true purpose.”

  * * *

  Turning the corner after Jurgen minutes later, Laedron glanced at the ruined steeple topping the Shimmering Dawn headquarters. Once inside, they gathered around the long table in the common room with Piers, and Jurgen said, “Now that we have a moment, I’d like to hear about Laedron’s fight with Andolis. I’ve heard what Marac and Brice had to say, but I want to hear your side of it.”

  “We found him on the rooftop of the highest tower, holding his staff in the air and chanting.”

  Marac went into Laedron’s bedroom, and returned to place the staff on the table. “Here it is. Andolis’s staff.”

  Jurgen leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Strange, but magnificent.”

  Laedron nodded. “Andolis intended to burn the city and make his escape. He said he would set a fire that would last a hundred years, likely by using the essence of the souls trapped in these stones to fuel his magic.”

  “You’ve done us a great service, young sorcerer. A great service indeed.” Jurgen took Laedron’s hand. “I shall personally ensure your order will be reinstated to its former glory, and you will be rewarded handsomely for your efforts here.”

  “I thank you for your generosity.” Piers smiled. “We’ll no longer be forced to live in the shadows.”

  “No, but keep your skills sharp, and educate those who come after you,” Jurgen said. “Your order may be called upon to save us from ourselves another time, and I can only pray that day will never come.”

  “So long as vicars have a taste for those old, imperial ways, I fear you’ll have problems, Jurgen,” Laedron said.

  “Perhaps, but why do you say it in such a way?”

  “Forane admitted to helping the Drakars and told us they were Zyvdredi agents. She traded her loyalty for soulstones, those onyx gems containing the life energies of their victims. She wanted to be immortal.”

  Jurgen frowned. “She was willing to let countless people die so that she could live eternally? It is a shame to see one so devoted give in to the lure of a font of youth.”

  “Those stones along either edge of the staff are the same as the ones we found on the mages, the ones who killed militia men.” Laedron took a deep breath. “The same as the one you used to save me.”

  Jurgen averted his eyes. “Yes. I did it at the demand of a man to see his friend returned to his side. I hope this doesn’t anger you, Sorcerer.”

  “’Tis a strange feeling and a hard argument, and it’s something we all shall have to live with from this day forward.” Laedron stared at the staff. “One of the stones of that staff could house the spirit of the late Daris the Second.”

  “It could be this one,” Brice said, presenting the black onyx ring Andolis had worn. “Maybe to keep him separate from the others?”

  “Creator…” Jurgen tapped his lip with a finger and eyed the stones. “Perhaps there is a way to free him?”

  “Surely there must be, but I don’t know how.” Laedron shrugged. “The Zyvdredi were meticulous in designing spells. They never created a spell without a counterpart that could undo its effects.”

  “We can’t approach a Zyvdredi with this information, that’s for certain,” Jurgen said. “There may be another way, though; we could contact the Uxidin.”

  Laedron nodded. “They are equally aged and gifted with magic. Perhaps they could answer the question of why I look the way I do now. But how can we find them?”

  “I shall think of a way. In the meantime, I must seek a peace with the Sorbians and fix all the things the Drakars have done.” Jurgen paused, taking a long look at Laedron. “Marac was right; we owe much to you, all of you.”

  “We’ve come a long way on a ha
rd road,” Laedron said. “We can only be thankful that the war may come to a close, and few have died as a result. I hope we can soon return to our homes with our heads held high.”

  Jurgen stood. “Yes, that you can. Remain here until I call for you, for you may be the key to securing peace with the Sorbians. The theocracy has some difficult steps before it.”

  17

  The Wrath of a Father

  The passage of days came with little news from the outside world. Marac and Brice-and sometimes Valyrie, much to Laedron’s disapproval-practiced in the courtyard with blades to keep their readiness high. When not spending time with Valyrie, Laedron studied Ismerelda’s spellbooks.

  Following their outings, Piers and Caleb brought some reports of the happenings of the city. Above all other news, the fact that Duke Fenric had been saved-and, thus, could be a clear route to a lasting peace-gave Laedron some hope. The people have suffered so much at the hands of the Drakars, on all sides of this conflict. I am proud to be a Sorbian this day.

  Laedron began experiencing sleepless nights. As the days passed, he was only able to sleep for a few hours at most. With the war ending and the Drakars defeated, he couldn’t place the reason for his losing sleep. He felt more relaxed than he’d felt in a long time, quite possibly more than he had since before he left Reven’s Landing, yet his sleep remained irregular.

  “Your girlfriend surprises me,” Marac said, entering Laedron’s room.

  Laedron looked up from the text he had been reading. “She’s not-”

  “Oh, don’t give me that. I’ve seen the way you two watch each. I even spied a late night kiss in the garden if my eyes don’t deceive.”

  “I’m in no mood for taunting.”

  Marac sat next to Laedron on the bed. “I haven’t come to taunt you. Actually, I’m proud to see you’ve finally found someone.”

  Laedron closed the book and laid it aside. “I’m afraid to bring her with us, Marac.”

  “Is that what this moping about is for?”

  “Moping? I call it concern.”

  “She’s old enough to make her own choices, Lae.”

  Laedron shook his head. “The next leg of our trip could be dangerous. I’ve spoken to Caleb about the Uxidin, and he told me the only ones he’s ever heard of live deep in the forests of Lasoron, along with all the other things only legends describe.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  “Beasts, monsters… anything you might imagine in an ancient forest rarely traversed. The things that live well away from the realms of men.”

  “You’re not getting scared of ghost tales, are you?”

  “I just want her to be safe,” Laedron said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine the pain I would feel if she died because we allowed her to come with us.”

  “Like I said, she’s old enough to make her own decisions and go where she likes. Tell her of the risks, but let her decide. She’s lost her father, but that doesn’t mean she needs another one.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to insult me,” Laedron said.

  “I only speak plainly. Embrace her, love her, do all the things that you’re supposed to do at her side, but don’t rule her, Lae. No matter how fine your intentions, you’ll push her away.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so, my friend. She’s willful and stubborn. I can see that in her, just as I’ve seen it in you. She’ll fight you every leg of the way unless you let her determine her own path.”

  “Thanks, Marac.”

  “Anytime,” he replied, then he closed the door behind him when he left.

  Laedron opened the book and flipped to the page he had been studying before Marac had interrupted him. He repeated Marac’s words over and over in his mind. It’s not my decision to make. Marac’s right. When the time comes, Valyrie, for better or worse, will have to choose for herself.

  He placed the book in his backpack, then thought of Ismerelda. How your life must have been filled with intrigue and adventure to possess books such as these. And now, I shall never know how you came to own them or why you took such an interest in Zyvdredi magic to keep such a sizable collection. He buckled the clasp on the leather bag and went out to the common room.

  Just as he arrived, Laedron heard a knock on the door, and he went to answer it. “Ah, Vicar Jurgen, you’ve come to visit us at long last? It’s been nearly a week.”

  Jurgen stepped inside. “Yes, I’ve come to summon you and bring some news. I’ve spoken with Duke Fenric, but he has been rather difficult to deal with.”

  “Come in, then. Care for anything to drink?”

  “No, I’m well, thank you,” Jurgen replied, taking a seat at the table. When everyone had joined him, he took a deep breath, then said, “Duke Fenric has recovered from his injuries and should be ready to speak with you, Laedron.”

  “Has he said anything?” Laedron asked. “About peace or the war?”

  “Not to us, no. We’ve given him some distance and time to think about things, and we… well, we thought that might be best for one of his countrymen to speak with him first.”

  “Then it shall be done. By the time the night falls, I hope we can be done with this war.”

  Jurgen nodded. “Good. If you can secure the peace favorably for all sides, the consuls and your king should be pleased.”

  “We shall see. Have you come up with anything regarding the ring and the staff? Anything about the Uxidin?” Laedron asked.

  “No, but I’ve made you an appointment with Demetrius Hale, the chief amongst the Arcanists.”

  Marac asked, “You’re not coming along?”

  “I cannot. I must return to the consulship once we have finished here. Tomorrow evening, I shall return, and you can inform me of your next step.”

  “Arcanists? The navigators?” Laedron asked, remembering how they had discussed the order before arriving in Azura.

  “Yes, they are an important group in Azura and have been for a long time,” Jurgen said. “Beyond being able to navigate the Sea of Pillars, the Arcanists have kept detailed records throughout history, and they are patrons of art and science. Merchants, scholars, and seafarers make up their ranks.”

  “Even the university is administered by them,” Valyrie said.

  “Yes, that is true.” Jurgen gave her a smile. “If it hadn’t been for them, much of what we know now about alchemy, architecture, and the natural world would likely have been lost through the ages. Time has not always passed kindly for the theocracy.”

  “Where is the meeting?” Laedron asked.

  “At his home. He can be found in the row houses across from the university, number four.”

  Valyrie nodded. “I know the way. When?”

  “Tomorrow at lunch. He always takes lunch at his home at or around noon.” Jurgen stood. “Perhaps he will have some answers. For now, I should take Laedron with me to meet with Fenric.”

  * * *

  The steps leading up to the front doors of the Vicariate Palace remained in disrepair. Climbing the stairs, Laedron observed two pools of blood around the large crater where he’d fallen, one stain his and the other that of Master Greathis. His skin tingled as if the place itself reminded his body of the pain, and he walked quicker to put distance between himself and that spot which had caused him so much agony.

  In the main hall, Duke Fenric sat with a group of his soldiers. A priest offered them food and drink. Fenric must not have trusted the man or his charity because he simply ignored the offerings.

  The first thing Laedron noticed about the duke was the impressive signet ring which bore the crest of the Sorbian royal family. The duke’s armor glimmered even in the dim light of the palace halls, and it had hardly a scrape or scratch from the previous day’s engagement. His face, goatee, and hair were all perfectly groomed.

  “Duke Fenric,” Laedron said, bowing.

  “And who are you, young man? Another priest coming to placate me?”

  �
��Your servant, my lord. Your subject.”

  “My subject? Your dulcet words will garner you no more favor with me than speaking plainly,” Fenric said with a sneer.

  “I do speak plainly, Sire. I am Laedron Telpist of Reven’s Landing.”

  “Telpist… a name that I have heard before, yet I cannot place. Reven’s Landing, you say?”

  “Yes, my duke. My father Wardrick Telpist was appointed as Bannor of that village by your brother, the king.”

  “No need to avert your gaze, then. My countrymen should look me in the eye when speaking.”

  “My apologies. I had gone so long in the guise of a Heraldan that their customs have become natural to me.” Laedron looked up at Fenric’s face. “I have come to talk of peace with you, my lord. These priests, being of weak will and filled with want for a time since passed, had elevated a charlatan to their highest office. The man persuaded them into a false conviction, then launched an attack against us in secret to provoke this war.”

  “What matter or concern is that of mine? Mistakes on their part do not facilitate a change of heart on mine. My nephew, your crown prince, lies dead at the hands of these miscreants, and my brother, your king, has ordered me to capture this country. Nothing has changed.”

  “My lord, I beg to differ,” Laedron said, glancing at Fenric’s soldiers. “You have few men left, too few, in my mind, to continue. Thus, now is the best time to consider alternatives.”

  “We can send word for more men. Surely, you know that we have many more men willing to fight-and die, if need be-for his majesty, King Xavier. A vengeful father is slow to forgive.”

  “Such a move is needless. His majesty has taken revenge upon the wrongdoers already, by my hand and those of my friends.”

  “Yours?”

  “We serve the Shimmering Dawn, my lord. We have completed our mission against Gustav Drakar, and we have done away with Andolis, more commonly known as Tristan the Fourth. This priest, Jurgen, has helped us every step of the way because he believes in justice, not power or prestige.”