by Guy Antibes
Sirul and his group muttered angrily among themselves, but then nodded to each other.
“We would like to meet with the Queen privately to plead our case.”
Malkul looked sideways at Lia, who nodded her assent. He said, “The Eastern Toryans have no standing at this parlay, now that their desires are known. May I make it clear that Princess Pullia never consented to a marriage with Lenis of Kizru. She considers the time spent in the Kizru palace as coerced confinement. Trak Bluntwithe didn’t kidnap her, but returned our Queen to her home.”
Lenis’s face turned red, and he stood up, pointing at Lia. “We will bury you!” Lenis said, spittle flying. “Our Colcanan allies will burn Zamiel to the ground!”
His father and the three Colcanans pulled Lenis aside, resulting in his father escorting a visibly outraged Lenis outside the tent.
Berin stood. “I apologize for Lord Lenis’s outburst. His position is not ours. We have never even intimated that we would damage Zamiel. We ask for a private audience tomorrow morning, Malkul,” he looked at Trak, “but without the presence of Trak Bluntwithe, who we also consider under a sentence of death.”
“Tomorrow morning, then Berin of Bitrium.” Lia said, knowing full well that she didn’t recognize his standing as a representative of Colcan.
Berin colored, but he bowed to Lia and to Malkul before he left the parlay pavilion with the others.
The Kandannans rose as a group, nodded to the Separatists, and then left.
Trak thought it odd that they didn’t demand an audience, and he felt that the glances exchanged between the Separatists and the Kandannans held meaning. He would counsel Lia to leave tonight. No one had indicated that they would move on the negotiations. Perhaps the Separatists might, but if they didn’t, Trak wondered if he should just abduct her. He needed Tembul’s advice, but he still hadn’t shown up.
The tables were removed, leaving the Separatists seated across the carpet from Lia. Malkul suggested that everyone stretch their legs before discussing the Separatist’s demands.
“Sirul, you have dressed up nicely,” Trak said.
“I suppose I am the last Royal standing.”
‘That’s not true. I am on my feet,” Lia said, trying to smile during the awkward discussion.
Trak frowned at Sirul’s claim. “I thought that you weren’t in the royal line.”
Sirul looked back at his party as he walked over to Trak and Lia. “They have other ideas.” He walked on the other side of Lia and held out his hand.
“I greet you, Cousin.”
Trak furrowed his brow. What was Sirul up to? Before he could react, Sirul pulled up Lia’s arm and plunged a long knife deep into her heart. Lia’s eyes rolled up and she fell, lifeless, to the floor.
He knelt down and sought out a pulse. “She’s…she’s dead,” Trak said, his mouth open. How could this happen? He looked around the rooms for the guards, but only found Separatists and Malkul, standing in witness to the murder. It all became surreal. This couldn’t be happening. He gently shook Lia, but she didn’t respond. He lifted a bloody hand and looked at it, nearly unable to comprehend what had just happened. He raised his eyes to the murderer.
Sirul gloated. “Killed instantly through the heart. Even you can’t save her now,” he sneered. “I will be King. The Kandannans are already on our side, and we will soon be off to fight the Eastern Toryans. You are next.” He pulled his sword.
Track willed time to stop. His eyes began to cloud with anger, but he shook it off. After he rose to his feet, he looked down at Lia’s lifeless body. She was even beautiful in death. Trak didn’t take a breath until he gasped from lack of air. He drew his Benninese sword, and with one swipe, beheaded Sirul. His head rolled to the feet of the Chamberlain. He strengthened his shield, and willed time to begin again.
“Did you know about this, Malkul?”
The man’s face flushed and he held up his hands. “No, no. I didn’t know Sirul would do such a thing.”
Track could see through the lie. Guards with crossbows ran into the tent and fired at him. He plunged his sword through Malkul’s chest, and then he turned on the commander of the guard, who had already drawn his sword.
“I am among cowards and murderers. You deserve nothing but death.” Trak pointed his sword at the commander and began a fierce sweep of lightning that destroyed everyone in its wake. Toryans tried to create shields, but nothing withstood Trak’s onslaught. Trak teleported out of the pavilion and set it aflame. He teleported among the carriages carrying the Kandannans, allies of the Separatists, killing them all with flame and lightning bolts.
He returned to the burning pavilion and looked on in anguish, trying to feel compassion towards the Toryans, but nothing could move the anger and hurt that he felt. Trak couldn’t remove his eyes from the flames that became a pyre for his beloved Lia.
No one came near him until arrows began to fall again. Trak teleported to his room in the castle. The shock of Lia’s death overcame him, and he sought the wall to lean against. His eyes welled with tears as his energy left him, making him slide down the wall until he sat on the floor.
Trak shook his head, feeling tears roll down his cheeks. He buried his head between his knees and wailed in pain. Why did this have to happen to him? What good were his powers when he couldn’t even protect a woman that he loved.
The thought brought him up short. Why did he phrase Lia as ‘a woman he loved’ when… He brought a hand to his forehead as he thought of Valanna as the other woman in his life. Trak loved them both. Valanna’s hold on his heart hadn’t disappeared. It had only moved over a bit to make room for Lia. It didn’t make Lia’s loss hurt any less, but Trak’s blurry mind began to clear.
Trak’s powers didn’t make him omniscient, like some kind of god, or give him any better judgment. He had made plenty of mistakes and would make more. He snorted at the gravity of his last mistake and shook his head in shame. His grief began to give way to anger, and that anger served to push aside the doubts in his mind.
All of a sudden he felt isolated, alone in a strange place. The castle no longer seemed like a place he should be. Trak sighed and took heavy breaths the clear his head of the anger and gain control of his emotions. He wiped his face on his sleeve, and then he stood and tried to make sense of what he should do next. People would pay for Lia’s death, he vowed.
His determination went beyond anger. Trak didn’t see himself returning to Zamiel, so would make sure that all of those responsible for ordering Lia’s death were punished.
He gathered the few clothes that he owned and his purse of wealth, and stuffed them into a bag. He looked around the castle and shook his head. Toryans were vipers, waiting to strike. He regretted the Toryan blood that ran through his veins. He looked towards the southeast, and had one more stop before his exit from Toryan lands.
He appeared up in the air, looking down at the Toryan camp. The attendees at the parlay had just arrived. Trak gnashed his teeth. If he felt hatred, it was for Lenis and his father, who had been behind the Toryan army. They would atone for Lia with their deaths.
He waited for a few moments before landing, while the attendees gathered in a large tent, probably to talk about the demands they would place on the Separatists and Kandannans the next day. There wouldn’t be a next day for them.
Trak created a hard shield around him and landed in front of the tent. His eyes watered from the emotions that roiled within him, as guards converged. He extended his hands and blew the guards paces away from where they stood, and then entered the tent.
The Toryans were just starting to celebrate Lia’s death when he stepped inside.
“The Queen is dead, killed by her bastard cousin. Now you have no reason to be here,” Trak said.
“Other than to see you dead,” Lenis said, his lip curling into a sneer. He posed and threw a fire bolt at Trak. It splashed impotently against his shield.
“I will defend myself,” Trak said. He drew his sword and fired a nee
dle of lightning into Lenis’s forehead. The Toryan fell to the floor, his drink landing on his chest, looking like blood.
“Like father, like son,” Trak said.
Namiul then died with a hole in his head.
Trak’s shield held firmly as the other Toryans began to attack him. He floated into the air and killed every one of them the same way. One Toryan remained. “Where is Tembul?”
The man quivered and barely was able to speak, “In King Basiul’s tent.”
“Tell anyone who wishes to hear. Trak Bluntwithe is a man to be feared. If any Toryan tries to kill me, I will personally destroy Zamiel and Kizru both. The Toryan race will be left to remain the savages they truly have become.”
He didn’t really mean what he said, but Trak couldn’t resist punishing the Toryans with the vision of the horror he reserved for someone else. He walked out of the tent and fought against the onslaught of the Toryans who had gathered. He rose into the air and blew a hole in King Basiul’s tent and descended. The king stood and backed up against a portable chest.
“Where is Tembul?”
“Here,” Tembul said. He rose weakly from a cot against the side of the tent. His face was swollen and purple from multiple beatings. He held a hand to his chest, his fingers twisted.
The king deserved no word of warning. Trak killed him like the others, and knelt next to Tembul. He gathered bedding from the king’s own bed, and teleported with Tembul all the way to Able and Neel’s house in Kizru, which sat abandoned.
Tembul lifted his crippled hand. “I went to warn you that Lia walked into a trap. All of them were in on her murder. Basiul ordered Toryans to kill you tonight in your sleep if the Separatists failed.”
“As if I would stay in the castle after Lia had been killed. I destroyed everyone who sat at that parlay. They are all dead, including King Basiul.”
“I think he hated you more than Lenis, if that is possible,” Tembul said. “I don’t blame you, but we can no longer be friends. You know that. I am loyal to Torya.”
“I understand that. If you ever change your mind…” Trak gave Tembul a gentle hug. “You will always be a friend to me.”
“Go to Pestle where you belong. Find Valanna and take her from King Marom. She is your true love.”
Trak shook his head. “I loved Lia.”
Tembul managed a smile. “A man can love two women.”
Trak doubted if he could love more than one woman at a time, but then he remembered his thoughts back at the castle. He clutched his friend’s hand. “Someone will find you here?”
He nodded.
Trak teleported back to the Colcanan camp. They were the one group that had not only wanted his life, but had kept Lia from him for days through Leaf’s compulsion spell.
Lia. He shuddered as he remembered Sirul’s thrust. Sirul, a man he thought was his friend. Trak had spared Sirul’s life long ago in the Santasian civil war. He suffered along with him in Bennin, and as a reward for his friendship, Sirul had ended up taking Lia from him.
He stole some bread cooling after being taken from camp ovens. Trak needed enough strength for what he was about to do. Berin and Leaf would not last the hour. Willing, Ben’s son would die as well. He felt bad about that, because it might cost him Ben as a friend, but Trak wanted to punish all those who participated in the charade leading to Lia’s death.
He spelled himself invisible and wandered through the camp, steadily making his way to the larger tents in the center. He saw Leaf and Berin enter a tent. Trak followed them in, and released his spell.
“Trak, how did you get here?” Leaf said.
Trak shook his head trying to get control of his temper. “I can teleport like a Vashtan.”
“Like us?” a voice said from behind.
Trak looked around to discover seven Yellow Fox Vashtans cutting off his exit. He set his shield and felt the pulses of power hitting his defenses. Berin and Leaf joined in. He borrowed the concept from Shinowa’s successful spell in the Beniko dungeon as a mental guide, and imagined a shield that would keep the Vashtans from teleporting out.
A Vashtan teleported from one side of the tent to the other, but couldn’t leave as the crossfire began to take its toll on the Colcanans and the Vashtans. Suddenly all the Vashtans tried the same thing. Berin and Leaf failed as well.
“Too bad.” Trak said. “You are all mine.” He turned to Leaf, the person who had taught him when Trak knew nothing.
“Basiul’s people were going to kill you tonight,” Leaf said. Her voice chilled Trak. Berin just looked on. Leaf obviously dominated the pair. “It looks like we will have to take up that task. It’s about time,” she said.
“Before you kill me, why are the Yellow Fox Vashtans here?” Trak said. He had no intentions of dying, but he wanted to hear the duplicity from these people’s lips before he gave them the same treatment as the others.
“They are our vassals,” Berin said. “We have used them as surrogates to rule the world, but you have thwarted us at every turn. Riotro leads our invasion and currently advances on Balbaam. Once you are dead and King Marom is taken care of, Pestledown will soon follow.”
“Riotro?”
“Riotro is a Colcanan. His brother is in Pestle to make sure Harl is protected from the rebellion until the Colcanan forces reach Pestledown after destroying the ruling family of Warish.” Leaf nearly said more, but stopped. “He is even more powerful than Riotro.” She bathed Trak with fire and another onslaught came at Trak from all sides.
“Before you all die, I just wanted to tell you that my next stop is Bitrium. I don’t need to ride through your killing gates to get to your precious towers,” Trak nearly enjoyed the horror on their faces. “Lenis threatened to level Zamiel, but that won’t happen, since I killed him. Your towers will be turned into rubble before the sun sets. You won’t be alive to lament the destruction of the symbols of your power. Princess Pullia’s death will be avenged.”
Berin’s eyes grew. “You can’t do that. Colcanan blood runs through your veins.”
“That blood turned to dust just hours ago. I have no love for Colcan, nor you.” Trak methodically killed every person in the tent. He walked out after ensuring his shields were intact. He suffered through another onslaught of arrows and magic, and confronted Willing Nomia. Trak had originally planned to kill the man, but he had taken more than enough lives.
“I am only sparing you because of your father. Bitrium’s towers are about to fall.” Trak teleported, leaving Willing alive, and Torya behind.
~
In his depleted state, Trak couldn’t make it all the way to Bitrium in one jump, but found himself on the outskirts of a Colcanan village. He walked into the village square to find a small market.
“Would you accept a gold coin for food?” he said to a man selling sausages and roasted potatoes.
“It’s all yours, stranger,” the man said, taking Trak’s gold coin.
Trak took most of what the man had, including two skins of wine. He walked out of the village and teleported deep into a wood. He would eat his fill and rest before his visit to Bitrium.
He felt numb after this awful day. The woman he loved had died in front of his eyes, with Trak unable to protect her. Tembul had been beaten and, after being rescued, told him he never wanted to see him again. His rage had wiped out the leaders of four armies, including the King of Kizru. Everyone he destroyed had a hand in the murder of Lia. They deserved death, and now he didn’t care what would become of Torya. He would forever turn aside from his Toryan heritage, just as he vowed to do with his Colcanan side.
Perhaps Tembul had a point. He could take Valanna, but after today, he wouldn’t act like the conspirators that took Lia from him. He refused to think of killing Marom, so he could take his wife. Trak could justify today’s every act, including the most heinous one that he hadn’t yet committed, but he still couldn’t kill a man in cold blood to save Valanna.
How could he think of Valanna the same day Lia had be
en murdered? He lamented his loss. If only he could have convinced Lia to leave before Leaf had twisted her mind. Leaf had paid for her acts, but her death could not bring back Lia. Trak closed his eyes and pictured the queen. The image that affected him the most was not when she was elegantly dressed, but when they had traveled incognito. Those were days he would never forget. He had killed them for taking away Lia, but history would likely record that he made them pay for the regicide of Queen Pullia.
Still, Valanna intruded on his mind. What kind of screwed-up human was he? Trak needed to talk to someone, and he remembered he had already decided to visit Misson. Ben might never speak to him again, but Misson would. He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes to nap. Visions of the towers of Bitrium invaded his slumber.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Nine
~
Trak woke with the late afternoon sun beating into his eyes through a gap in the trees. His rest had been turbulent. Lia’s death continued to torment him. Sirul had killed her instantly, depriving Trak of the ability to say goodbye. Lia didn’t suffer at all, but Malkul had made sure that the princess had a very short reign. Trak did not regret taking instant revenge on his erstwhile friend. He regretted that he had to take so many other lives, but, like Sirul, they all deserved to pay for plotting to kill Lia.
Since Willing had been saved, he wondered if his boasting about the towers would be relayed to Bitrium. It didn’t matter. He would be prepared for whatever confronted him in Colcan’s capital. His resolve to make the Colcanans pay for their meddling hadn’t abated one bit.
He ate more sausage and downed the mediocre wine that he had purchased, and then he teleported to the quarry where he had made the mistake of showing too much power when Honor taught him in Bitrium. Trak used short jumps to get closer to the city. He put his cloak on, and covered his blond hair with the same knit cap he had taken outside of Coriasku before he approached a crowded stream of people leaving Bitrium. He stopped a woman burdened by a large bundle.