by J. R. Castle
Leon chuckled, knowing the Elderad was not talking to himself. He hurried to find him, hoping to catch him while he had a communication portal open with Issah. But unfortunately, by the time he spotted the gray-cloaked figure, he was making his way back toward camp.
“Any news?” Leon asked as the distance closed between them. “Was Issah able to check on Tarest for you?”
A faint smile pulled at the Elderad’s mouth. “Indeed. Would you like the bad news or the not quite as bad news first?”
Leon’s heart sank. “What’s happened? Have we lost Tarest?”
Riyah gave a slight nod of his head. The silvery white flowing hair that normally hung loosely down his back had been tied into a long braid. “I fear, we may need to prepare for a skirmish, Leonard the Lionhearted.”
Leon began to shake his head. “Oh no, we are not prepared to fight. And do not try to sweet talk me, Riyah, with that lionhearted nonsense. I only have a few guardsmen with me. I cannot risk them on a rogue town. Especially if that town no longer desires to be part of our province.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Riyah examined him for a long time. “You are sounding more and more like Koloman.”
That was a low blow. “We do not have enough warriors to fight a whole town. I will not recklessly risk the lives of my men. They depend on me to keep them—”
“They would lay down their lives for you, Leonard. They will lay down their lives to protect Rodonal. Do not dishonor them by your unwillingness to even present them with a choice.” Riyah’s intense stare, his piercing blue eyes that glinted like sapphires, wore away Leon’s resolve.
“Very well,” Leon conceded, “after everyone has eaten, then we will discuss our options. Hopefully, by then my scouts will return.”
A shadow passed over the Elderad’s face. “Only one will return, I fear. Tarest is in grave danger.”
Anger surged through Leon, his fist clenched so tightly, his knuckles whitened. “What? Have they declared war on us before we even reach their borders? How dare they treat…”
“They have been taken over, that much we know. By a band of rogue Archmages. Tarest lays at the foot of their mountain fortress.”
Rogue Archmages? Wizards in his Province? He’d heard rumors, but hadn’t believed… but… how could he fight such powerful men? Or whatever they were. A mix of everything from his understanding.
“This changes everything, Riyah! Allow me to send for reinforcements. Osas has horses and fighting men they will spare me, I only need to ask. I will send a messenger bird to Rodon and Atser. They will bring more warriors. We will drive every one of the thieves and rebels from our province.”
Riyah sighed. “Again, you are making hasty decisions, Regent Leonard.”
Leon began pacing, frustration driving his steps. “What would you have me do? First, you practically tell me I’m being impervious, now you are telling me I’m being irrational. Which is it, Riyah?” He stopped his pacing and faced his adviser.
Several, long moments passed before Riyah finally responded with, “Both. Unfortunately. But I continue to remind myself that you still have much to learn and your folly is from your youthfulness.”
“What?” Leon’s pitch was so loud, a flock of birds bolted into the sky. He drew in a calming breath. “I’m no child. Tell me what you would have me do.”
“First, I’d ask you to stop acting like one, if you dare to make such claims. Second, I would suggest you do as I first advised. Let us take the matter to your men.”
“Very well, let’s do that. I’m sure they’ll agree that we need to call in reinforcements.” He turned and started toward the camp.
“Leonard.” Riyah’s tone halted his retreat.
“Sir?”
“You must make a choice, son of the King. Will you be a ruler or a leader?”
Leon spun around. “What is the difference? Do they not mean the same thing?”
“Not exactly.” Riyah began walking, and Leon fell into step beside him when he finally answered, “Your father was a strong ruler. When he made a law, men followed it. Or paid the price. People respected him out of fear.
“The Regent before him… he was a mighty leader. He had a vision which he shared with his people. Then he led them to fulfill that vision. This province was still young then. He had followed in his father’s footsteps, as you are. His father was also a leader at heart who planted the seeds of what this province would become in his son’s heart. He had ambitious ideas of what he wished to see happen. But it was his son who nurtured those ideas and made them fruitful.”
Leon pondered the Elderad’s words. “I’m still not sure I see the difference.”
“Your father ruled with his fists, making his own will happen,” Riyah explained. “The previous Regents led from their hearts, inspiring their followers to capture the dream they had for a united Province. Fear has no place in Shaydon’s kingdom. Now, do you understand?”
Leon answered with a nod, then ducked his head. He did not wish to rule like his father.
Riyah wanted him to decide how he was going to take care of the lands Shaydon had given him. Issah had made it clear that his role was a gift and came with great responsibility. He’d been put in charge of not only governing his people living in the various town and cities, but he was responsible for protecting and making sure they had their needs met.
Father had let these outlying towns down by ignoring them. Somehow, it seemed that another benefactor had entered whether with lies or some other kind of trickery. And these thieves had won his people’s hearts. Did they really deserve to be chased from the land and stripped of their citizenship?
Riyah breathed in deep and patted his stomach. “Ah, that stew smells delicious. Let us enjoy our meal, my Lionhearted friend, then we will make some heavy decisions. It will ultimately come down to your decision of what course we will take from here.”
Leon allowed Riyah to continue without him. The ultimate decision…came down to him. Yet, he needed to decide how he would make that decision…and weigh the consequences. How had Issah ever thought that he was ready for this responsibility?
He wasn’t ready at all.
Chapter Nine
Darnel huddled on his cot in the caravan, hoping nobody would miss him. Especially Fajer, who’d spent the past couple of weeks ordering him around like a slave. The Brethren had welcomed him to remain, so long as Fajer promised to take responsibility for him. And Master had kept a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t overstep any boundaries or ask too many questions.
Yet it was his desire to seek answers to his many questions that frustrated Darnel. How had they managed to not only call forth that pit-demon but control it? The Illuminate boy had been able to fight it until Fajer stepped in and bashed him over the head with his staff. The demon seemed reluctant to get too close to the boy’s shield. And unless Darnel’s eyes had deceived him, that boy had actually managed to harm the demon when he’d hurled a rock at it.
Darnel knew of only one type of rock which would wield such power. The kind of rocks he could no longer hold for very long and had learned to avoid ever since he’d left Aloblase, vowing to never return. Because he was part Logorian, he could travel upon roads lined with the white stone, but not for long without suffering great discomfort.
The most important task at hand was figuring out how to learn more about the Brethren’s powers. The Halls of Knowledge were cut off to him, along with the libraries of Radiance and other Kingdom Provinces. Perhaps a smaller town…but their libraries would be sorely limited, and texts about beings of the cursed underworld would never line their shelves.
There was a vast room full of books in the depths of this mountain. He could feel them calling to his Curian blood. If only he could find a way to gain access.
He made a few more notes in his journal then closed it with a frustrated snap. Unless he was willing to commit himself to the Order, they would never share any of their secrets with him. But if he did agree to
join, what information would they require about him? Would they search his bloodline? He couldn’t allow it.
The door the caravan banged open. “There you are,” Fajer growled, scowling. “Lazy Grunt. Think you can hide from your duties? You eat our food, you will work for your keep.”
Fajer raised his hand, grasping a switch they used on the horses. Darnel had nowhere to go. He tried to duck out of the way, but the leather straps landed across his leg, biting like tongues of fire. Master lifted his arm for another strike.
Fury clouded his mind until he could only see through a red haze. Without thinking, Darnel sent a burst of energy into his hands and shoved the sorcerer backward. Clenching his fist, Darnel thought of making the man feel his hurt.
“Pain,” he whispered as another word slid over his tongue and held onto the edge…death. No!
Fajer cried out, clutching his head. “Stop. Darnel, get control!” He screamed, writhing on the ground.
Hearing this name from Fajer’s lips brought Darnel to his senses. He pulled in his energy, shame drenching him like a bucket of hot, scalding water. How could he have lost control of himself like that?
Fajer laid on the ground outside the wagon. He began laughing as he still clutched his bald head. His laughter nearly undid Darnel. Had he gone too far? Would the Wizard kill him now? He’d like to see him try.
Power rose back up, filling every fiber of his body.
“Easy there, my friend. Easy. I’m not foolish enough to think I can fight you alone and win.” Fajer slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, but he made no move to stand.
Darnel dared to breathe but kept his guard up.
Dusting off the dirt and grass clinging to his cloak, Fajer gave one more good laugh, then grew serious, despite the merriment dancing in his coal-like eyes. “Come, Darnel my boy, and let us not fight anymore.”
Did he mean it? Or was this a ruse to get his guard back down so he could try to get the upper hand again? Fajer had to know that Darnel would never seriously attempt to kill him, despite how many times he’d envisioned various ways the deed might be done. Still, he knew, without a doubt, that to kill Fajer would bring the wrath of the Brethren down upon him and he was in no position to attempt such an imprudent feat.
Not yet.
“Your powers are being wasted, boy,” Fajer was saying. “I’m not completely sure where your abilities come from,” he held up his finger, “though I have my suspicions. And I understand your reluctance to share the truth. I do.” He nodded, then waved him to come join him beside the fire. “I have a proposition for you, lad. It will be in your best interest to hear me out.”
Darnel moved to the bottom step of the wagon but would not go any closer. “I’m listening.”
“Up to this point, I’ve taken you on as an apprentice. In return for teaching you a few tricks, along with offering food and shelter. And you have served me well, little grunt. I’ve tried to be a fair Master to you—”
Darnel glowered, grinding his teeth to keep his rude remarks inside his mouth.
“I have. Despite your rebellious spirit. I’ve overlooked much of your pride and stubbornness. I liked your spirit. I admire it, actually. Some apprentices I’ve taken on are like starved dogs that grovel at my feet. Disgusting!” He spat into the fire pit. “I see that strong spirit is being wasted. So, I’d like to make you a better offer.”
“What if I decide I don’t like your offer? What if I refuse?” Darnel almost called him Master, out of habit, but felt their affiliation was about to move to another level.
“If you do not wish to accept my offer, then…” Fajer shrugged, “we should part ways, my boy. You are much too powerful to be a servant. Nor do you possess a servant’s heart. You have no interest in bowing to anyone. I admire that, which is why I’ve not come to destroy you with my brethren supporting me.”
Fajer picked up a stick and poked at the coals in the firepit. “You may possess powers none of us have seen before, but I’m sure that you are not experienced enough to battle twelve, or more, of us at once. So, if you decide against the offer I’m about to make, I would release you from our agreement. You will be free to leave.”
“Just like that?”
Fajer nodded. “Yes, just like that. I believe you really have nowhere to go, Darnel. My hope would be that soon, your hunger will overpower your pride, and you would come back to me. I think, no…I know, we could be a mighty force if we were to work together. As partners.”
Darnel’s brow shot up. “Partners…as in equals?”
Fajer nodded. “Yes. Together, Darnel, we could take over this land. Already, the Brethren have claimed parts of the Rodonal province. That is only a start.” He sat up on his knees, excitement burning in his violet eyes. “The Regent is a young whelp, from what I’ve heard. He might have the Light King’s army at his disposal, but I’d be willing to wager everything I own, that you can match their powers. Am I correct?”
Any Kingdom province had Logorians at their disposal, to help fight battles when needed. A cold sweat beaded on the back of Darnel’s neck. It seemed Fajer most likely suspected more about his lineage than he wished anyone to know.
“Fajer, what do…I mean, what kind of powers do you think I have?”
The wizard tugged at his ear that came to a low point near the back of his head. Elf ears pointed straight up, but a half-breed’s usually pointed toward the back. “You are not half elf. Your ears are too similar to a human’s.” He tugged at his own lobes. “Though… well, you remind me of a Logorian with your regal mannerisms, and that ability to break into a person’s thoughts. Tell me if I’m wrong, Darnel. Let’s, for once, be honest with each other. Part of your bloodline comes from the King’s Logorians, does it not?”
Reluctantly, Darnel gave one quick nod.
“Ah,” Fajer smiled. “You have to know, there are others like you. Though not very many. Some are a human and Logorian mix. But, you are not human. Not at all.”
Trickles of sweat dripped down Darnel’s back. Here was where they got into dangerous territory. Figuring out he was either part Logorian, or part Curian was dangerous enough, but knowing he had the blood of both species of Beings flowing through his veins… if that information got out.
Maybe he should go ahead and leave. Darnel glanced at his cot where he kept his belongings under the mattress. Would Fajer really let him simply walk away? He found that doubtful. More than likely, he’d always have a target on his back.
Fajer stood, then pulled his pipe from the pocket of his cloak. As he made to light it, his gaze scanned their surroundings. Finally, he straightened and moved closer.
Darnel held his breath, ready to throw up a block if necessary. But the sorcerer’s expression was serious and not in the least filled with malice.
“We cannot let your secret get out beyond the two of us, Darnel.” He actually spoke with a tone of respect, something Darnel was not used to hearing from anyone. He wasn’t sure how to take it. “The Logorian part…well, that will cause some sorcerers to….” He sighed, brows furrowing until his markings wrinkled over his forehead. “You saw what they did with the Illuminated. I’m not saying it would be easy to do the same to you, but…if you were overpowered by them….”
Darnel comprehended the unsaid threat clearly. Fear burned warnings that ran all the way into his core.
“Those who are part Logorian usually end up in Lalet with the Archmages Order. They would never condescend to associate themselves with the likes of the Brethren. Nor would they subject themselves to becoming anyone’s servant or apprentice.”
Darnel frowned. “If one goes to the Archmages, that person is still subjected to bowing to their authority, and they are even more strict and demanding than….” He almost let too much slip.
If Fajer figured it out, he’d not deny the truth. However, he would not freely give anything away.
Fajer smiled. “Sounds like you know this from experience.”
Darnel shrugged.
“Come on out with it, Fajer. I’ve conceded that I’m a half-breed, like the rest of you. Part Logorian, rare for the most part, but not unheard of. So what else? Spit it out.” He was growing weary of this. Trying to maintain his energy to protect himself this long was beginning to wear on him. He still didn’t trust Fajer enough to relax. Especially with him standing so close.
The sorcerer reached out and grabbed Darnel’s right ear. “No markings, but it hangs low like a young Wisdom Keeper’s. Tell me, can you sense what I have brought with me? I tucked it into my satchel. Can you sense what it is?”
Darnel paused and lowered his guard a little more.
Fajer went on, “I’ve seen you skulking around the Room of Tomes. Despite it being veiled, you have still managed to locate the hidden entrance, even if you were unable to see it. I’ve brought something from there that might interest you. Tell me what the title is, and it’s yours.” He released Darnel’s ear and stepped backward, tucking the pipe into the corner of his mouth.
Darnel’s energy subsided a bit more. He’d need to lower it in order to feel what the book was about. Now that he’d calmed himself, he could indeed sense its presence, though not as easily as a full-blooded Curian would. There would be no turning back if he spoke out the title. But he desperately wanted the book hidden in Fajer’s pocket. Oh, the crafty old man. Surely, he’d seen the questions turning ever since the ceremony.
“Well? Tell me, boy, what book have I brought you?”
Darnel swallowed the lump in his throat. “Managing the Doors to the Underworld.”
Fajer’s narrow lips slowly rose upward. “It’s true. How were you allowed to even be born, my friend? Was it your mother or father? It must have been your father, or they would have killed your mother, from what I’ve heard.”