An Emperor's Fury: Most Favored

by Paul Heisel

  Feln studied the remains, noting jewelry along the bones. Carefully he extracted a tarnished bracelet and ring. The ring was familiar - it looked like his father's ring - it was a band of white gold with a small gemstone set in the middle. Feln breathed on it and rubbed it with his robe, shining it as best he could. There was an engraving on the underside.

  #

  To my love Sari Roan - F.E.S.

  #

  Feln felt hollow. This was where his mother had died. She had died a prisoner and no one had known about it. Well, Velinole and Jakks had. Feln gathered the trinkets and secured them inside a pouch sewn into his fighting clothes. The ring he would keep with him. The bracelet was gold encrusted with several gems, and he would give that to Owori when he found her. His spirits lifted when he thought of her, but they dipped again - the cave in, they all were buried in the tunnel with little chance of survival. Feln stood there, his mind racing. There were so many things happening. What was he to do? He set aside his feelings and coaxed his logical self into being. He knew he had to escape so he could live to fight another day. It didn't matter what he had found or who was to blame for his mother's death or if his companions were dead or trapped. Though the greater task was to end the war, going after Jakks and securing the future of the Accord of the Hand, he didn't see how he could accomplish that and survive.

  Feln took one last look at the bones of his mother. At the end of this, he would request a proper burial for her, then he would search for the truth and he would find out who his mother was and how Pyndira figured with it all. It was a deep breath later that Feln realized he had forgotten what Suun had been looking for - a black belt with gold embroidery. He took three steps to a corner, found a pile of dusty rags and debris, and began to sift through it looking for the belt. Vermin and insects must have taken care of the belt; they must have chewed it to pieces. Then he remembered what Suun had said; the belt was indestructible. His hand touched a firm object at the bottom of the pile. He extracted a long belt covered with dust, dirt, and grime. With his hands, he stripped off the filth and with a few strokes it looked like new, as if the grime had been repelled. The gold threads, drawn into the shapes of dragons, were untarnished. It was stunning and glittered in the torchlight. It was similar to a sash that one would use to keep robes or fighting clothes together, yet it didn't have the weight or mass he expected. It was light and pliable, made of a fabric he hadn't encountered before.

  He shed his robes and enough gear so he could put on the belt and hide it beneath his outermost clothes. As soon as he tied it securely, there was a jolt that astonished him. Every fiber in his body was buzzing with an unknown energy. It wasn't painful, just uncomfortable. Though energized, he felt overwhelmed, numb, like he was drunk on too much ale.

  Feln took a needed breath.

  His body was more alive than ever, every cell dazzled with energy. The exhilarating feeling dampened, becoming a dull vibration that stretched from his head to his toes. Feln knew it was magic, but more magic than he could fathom. Feln walked out of the cell and closed the iron door, and when it creaked, the noise didn't bother him. He felt rather invincible.

  "Come with me," he said, motioning toward Velinole and Makison. Feln could see both were delighted, relieved at his announcement. "Makison, I have your promise?"

  Makison looked at him and his jaw dropped open, ruining the smile on his face. "What? What promise?"

  "Earlier you promised me anything should I release you. Either you were sincere or not - which is it?"

  "Yes! Anything. Release me!"

  "Accepted." Feln opened the cell door and Makison slipped through, collapsing on the stone floor when he was free. He was sobbing and kissing the ground. Velinole, smirking, straightened his robe and started out of the cell, but Feln pushed him back.

  "Not you."

  With a firmer shove, Feln sent him stumbling to the back of the cell. Velinole hit the worn sleeping pallet and tripped, landing on his backside. He looked furious. A stream of curses came from his lips. "You need both of us to get out of here!" He rushed the bars, smashing into them. It was too late, as Feln had locked the door.

  Feln grabbed the torch and handed it to Makison.

  Velinole pounded on the cell door, screaming and begging for release. With a gentle hand, Feln guided Makison to the opposite end of the corridor, the place where Velinole had come from. They passed by the cell where Sari Roan had died and soon they were distant from Velinole's cries, but not far enough for the likes of Feln. Ahead of them was a door, old and worn from time not use. It was heavy to the touch and swung open with effort, creaking. Feln directed Makison out of the prison. Once the door shut, the thick barrier cut off Velinole's screams entirely. Feln steadied a trembling Makison with his hand. He looked at the Borgard royal, noting how frail he was. Feln touched the magic belt at his waist, taking comfort in the hidden thing below his fighting clothes and robe.

  "Are you up to this?" Feln asked.

  "Depends on what 'this' is."

  "This is what I want in exchange for your freedom. I want the bones of my mother given a proper burial. I'm not sure where they buried my father, but find where he is and place her at his side. You know the prison cell I speak of?"

  "Yes. It will be done."

  "I will take you out of here and release you. You won't follow me, nor call the guards or raise any alarm. If you do so, I will put you back in that cell with Velinole."

  Makison hesitated, but nodded. "Done."

  "You are the rightful king and you're going to stop this war. You will use ravens, messengers on horses, and whatever else is at your disposal to deliver the orders to stand down, to stop the fighting. The Borgards will cease all hostile activities and have their troops return at once to this city or from whence they came."

  "Agreed. What if my brother Jakks complicates things and won't recognize my authority?"

  "I have no easy answer for you. I can't help you secure your place on the throne by myself. If I could, I would. There has to be some who are still loyal to you, old friends or military commanders that would listen. You are living proof Jakks is not the rightful king."

  Makison swallowed hard. "That's the problem. I'm weak and will need protection. I will not know who is friend or foe. For all I know those who are loyal to me are dead. Can you protect me?"

  "We'll both be dead," Feln said.

  "So you're going to lead me out of here and just leave me?"

  "You can go back in with Velinole if you wish."

  "No," Makison spoke softly. "I will manage as best I can."

  "Makison, I will do what I can to protect you. I can't promise you that we will get out of this alive. Do you agree to all of my terms freely?"

  "Yes, I agree and for your consideration, I do this of my free will. I will comply with your instructions because you have freed me."

  "You are bound by your word, King Makison. May your reign be glorious. If we survive." Feln bowed to the rightful king.

  Makison's face brightened and tears came down, wetting his cheeks. He seemed to be at a loss for words and he fell against the wall one more time, his sobs becoming uncontrollable. "What of Velinole? He was the one who kept me alive when my brother would have had me killed. I owe him a debt of gratitude."

  Feln ignored him and motioned towards the steps ahead of them. "We must find help before your brother finds us."

  "What of Velinole?"

  "I'm certain he was the one who killed my mother. Let him rot."

  #

  Owori was invisible, using her chi and the darker portions of the hallways to navigate deeper into the castle's lavish living spaces. She had already passed by several guards - the lighting was dim and suited her stealthy approach. The going was slow, though, as finding the right path in the huge structure was impossible based on the map she had looked at. She figured he was in the middle of the castle, near the most functional rooms and well-traveled areas. The king's innermost chambers would be here, safe from exter
nal noise and intrusion, his walls distant from any outside danger. She could smell food from the kitchens; mutton roast, stewed vegetables, and dark bread permeated the air. Owori realized she was hungry.

  Although hidden from the untrained eye, Owori was cautious and peeked around corners. Tapestries adorned the hallway and chandeliers that sparkled with more radiance than the midday sun hung from the ceiling. Rich carpets led the way over shiny lacquered wooden boards, and handcrafted armoires and tables were spaced at uneven intervals. Guards dressed in formal uniforms were along this great hallway, stationed in three spots and at a great door. The tables had silver goblets organized in rows with smaller copper cups stacked in a round pyramid arrangements. Pitchers of drink were in between. Spread out over other tables were chocolate sweets, small cakes, and other finger foods. A longer table had carved mutton, piles of cooked potatoes and carrots, and loaves of dark crusty bread - what she had smelled earlier. Servants lingered, positioning the fare, plates, and utensils just so. There was a cacophony and it startled Owori, so much so she sank behind the wall, her mind trying to recognize the sounds. The strange noise changed, pitching, plucking, and snorting, then it subsided. A solitary note began softly, a flute, and then other instruments joined in concert. Wonderful music flitted through the air, muffled by the walls and doors. Owori gathered her wits and looked around the corner, trying to figure if the king was in there. It made sense if there was a concert that the king would attend. It was strange, though, to think the king would hold such an event while they were at war. Then again, she had never lived in a castle. Maybe distractions were needed.

  There wasn't much else she could do, as she had no additional magic to search further. The king had to be behind those doors, probably with minimal guards but with dozens of nobles and other members of his court. Resting for a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to find her chi, calling for the magic that she had in reserve. None was found. Owori stepped from her hiding spot, and as she turned to depart to get the others, a soldier found her.

  #

  The climb up the dangerous stairs from the dungeon was more than Makison could manage in his weakened state. Feln had to half-support half-carry him during the ascent. Feln learned that Makison didn't know of this dungeon, and thusly didn't know where they were going or where it would end up. At last they reached the top. Staring down into the deep unknown made Feln squeeze the nearby rope harder. What was left of Makison's strength disappeared and he nearly fell into the abyss. Feln caught him and carried him the last few steps, then brought him to the wood door in front of them. Once opened, he could see there was another door, so they entered the small chamber that smelled strongly of cedar. Feln pushed on wooden panels, thinking these doors were too lightly constructed to be used for a room. After a step down from the large wardrobe, they were inside an unused bedroom. White linen sheets covered the furniture and bed, undisturbed for a long time. Layers of dust covered the linen sheets. The air was stale. Footprints led from the wardrobe to the room's door, the tracks of a careless Velinole. The only distinguishing feature of the room was a massive preserved head of an elk mounted on the wall.

  Feln placed the lantern on the floor and deposited Makison on the dusty bed, gently laying him down. Makison lay there with his eyes closed, unmoving, his chest heaving up and down. A groan came from deep within him.

  "I can't go on," Makison coughed. "Not yet. I need to rest, please let me rest here."

  Feln patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment's time. I'll scout this area and figure out where we are, then I'll return and we can discuss our next move. You rest. Catch your breath. Breathe slower, deep calm breaths. You're almost home."

  Makison groaned. "Find Kragan, the Knight Captain. He'll stand with us."

  "Kragan?" That was the last person Feln wanted to find.

  "He may serve my brother as he served my father, but if he is given a choice he will stand with me. He doesn't know that I live. Find Kragan."

  Outside the room, Feln discovered they were at the end of a long hallway, most likely there were in one of the wings of the castle. It wasn't familiar to him, not yet. His memories were fuzzy. He needed to find a connecting hallway so he could get into the main section of the castle to either find an exit or an area that looked familiar. This wing appeared to be unused or at least not frequented often. In the distance, he saw what he thought was a junction. From there came flickering light. Feln blended with the wall and became invisible, traveling along slowly. He rounded a corner to the left, gathered his bearings, and headed down another hallway. The memories came to him in a flash, the haze lifted. He recognized this hallway, the walls, and the decor. Not much had changed in ten years. There was a painting of hunting dogs chasing down a boar on the wall, and the same group of hunters hadn't released their arrows yet.

  He reconstructed the layout of this area in his mind. This part of the castle was an outer building connected to the main castle by a hallway at ground level, and it was used primarily to house visiting family and guests. It was in the back of the grounds, jammed against the hills where the castle was nestled. As he recalled, it was an afterthought built to accommodate a great number of visitors. He mentally backtracked the ascent from below, trying to picture where the secret dungeons were located. The turns lost him, though, and he gave up trying to figure out where it was. It didn't matter now, as he knew where he was and pictured the quickest way out. He guessed he was on a top floor, so the third floor, and if he could make it to the ground floor via stairwell he could make his way to the castle grounds and to the meeting point. Everything here looked smaller to him, and his clouded memories of being ten years old transported him to a time mostly forgotten. They had lived on the other side of the castle, not far from the Great Hall and the Music Hall upstairs, the two places his father had spent most of his time. For a moment he wished he could explore the castle, relive old memories and take in the sights and sounds of his former life. There was no time for that, though. He noticed adjacent to him was a staircase and it headed down, so that's where they had to go. He remained invisible for safety sake, but it was taking a toll on him and he needed to conserve his magic for when he escaped. It was imperative that he take Makison with him, at least for the short term, to ensure the king's safety. Feln was about the return to the room when he saw a man scooting along the hallway toward his position, poorly cut hair shifting back and forth with the panicked movements of his head. Makison shot past him to the stairs and started down, taking the steps far quicker than a man in his weakened state should. Feln released his chi and follow, curious why the new king wanted to go this alone.

  #

  Kara paced the inside of the barrel room, her nerves frayed from the waiting. She felt trapped, unable to do anything to help the situation. She had been confident that Owori would return with news of the king's location, but as time wore on it was apparent something had gone wrong. That notion didn't give her any comfort while they waited. Kara couldn't deny the bad feeling she had and decided too much time had passed. The Borgard soldiers would be no problem for her, Gargam, and TeBroo working together. It was unfortunate that they would have to rush and hope they found the king. Kara ceased pacing and checked her weapons. "She's been gone too long. We can't wait any longer."

  "Patience," TeBroo said. "Her path is a slow one. Stealth is a time consuming art. We must have patience."

  "I agree with Kara," Gargam said. His voice rumbled and echoed. "She should be back by now."

  TeBroo stood up, stretching, understanding he was outnumbered. "What do you propose?"

  "We find Owori or the king. The path either way is through that door. I have a bad feeling she ran into more trouble than she could handle."

  "And you believe we can handle this trouble better than she?" TeBroo asked.

  Kara looked at him, not sure what he really meant by the comment. She couldn't decide if he was questioning her abilities or trying to get her to quit their mission. "Our primary goal i
s to end this war," she said. "If we run into more trouble, then we'll have to fight our way back here and flee if we can. With or without Owori."

  "And?"

  Kara cocked her head. "What?"

  "Feln. If we retreat, we'll be leaving both of them behind. I think we should find Owori and depart. She is the best at what she does, and if she has found trouble, then we are in for a long, long evening."

  "We find Owori then," she said. "If we have an advantage and can make it to the king, then we'll do it. I'll make the decision when the time comes. If we get separated, go to the meeting point." Kara walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hallway. She motioned to Gargam and TeBroo to follow.

  "May I suggest we use all means necessary to remain undetected until we are higher in the castle," TeBroo said. "Let me scout first - I'll go ahead by several yards."

  The three walked deeper into the castle, TeBroo taking the lead. Kara trailed behind and locked glances with Gargam. He shrugged his massive shoulders. Her insides tumbled, nervous now, because it would be a difficult task to find Owori or take the king with only three of them. Stairs came and they went up, creeping along the walls as silently as they could.

  #

  "What have we here?" spoke the soldier. He was a powerful looking man with a full beard, graying, and sharp gray eyes. He was wearing a formal dark blue uniform with yellow accents and a red sash that was tied around his waist. A red jackal emblem was sewn onto his tunic. A sword dangled at his side. Ebon boots, shiny as black metal, glinted in the hallway's light. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young. His dark hair, cropped short, had flecks of gray. The man looked rock solid.

  Owori didn't announce her surprise. She planted her feet solidly and put her hands to her blades. Quick work would be necessary so the others nearby wouldn't hear. At least she had the noise of the symphony to mask the fighting. Her blades slid out in a flash and she went for him.

  Kragan, the Captain of the Guard, pulled free his sword in a one motion and brought it slashing up. Owori anticipated the attack and intercepted the sword with her blades, deflecting it. A rain of overhand blows followed, all of which Owori blocked. She went on the offensive now, darting her blades in and out, up and down. Kragan did likewise with his sword and blocked Owori's assault, but wasn't as lucky; one blade nicked his shoulder. Blood trickled. Kragan's eyes were alight with fury. There was a pause. The combatants were both panting softly and sweating. Kragan circled, blade at the ready.