“I am a Royal Knight,” he answered, “but you look to be the one who should be in my place. I haven’t gotten any chances to serve my king yet, although, I have a feeling that soon I will get my chance, and then, I won’t hesitate, I’ll…I’m sorry, I guess I’m just excited.”
Tarthur, knowing the feeling well, nodded and smiled. Yet, when he looked in Sir Stephen’s face, with his youthful innocence and determination, he could see only one thing. He saw the young knight’s body, rotting in a battlefield for the slain. All around him, the dying called out for aid, but no one heard them. The earth was charred and barren—only two forms of life inhabited it. A little girl cried for her father. “Daddy, daddy get up, the bad things are gone now daddy. Let’s go play now, like you promised. Remember, you promised me and mommy…when they’re gone you’ll come home, and we’ll play all day long like before…” Her uncomprehending voice was drowned out by the other form of life, the harsh wail of the vultures, circling and waiting. Waiting…yet they were full, for as Tarthur looked over the countryside, there were battlefields everywhere…
“You know,” Tarthur said seriously, looking in the young knight’s eyes. “Many people are going to die. There will be a war.”
“And we will win.” Sir Stephen finished, but did not see the same confidence in Tarthur, who looked at him as if to ask “what have you seen of the enemy? If you knew them you would not be sure. In fact, you’d be insane…”
Tarthur looked away. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind. My friends are scattered all over the world, if they aren’t dead. I have a sword that burns me sometimes and is regular metal other times, and I’m supposed to have a great spell but I don’t even know how to use it! There is about to be a war and a lot of people are going to die, and what if it’s my fault!?? Not to mention, I’ve been trying to reach the king for about two months, and every two days I see something that most people don’t even believe exists!” He exhaled and then apologized again. “I’m sorry. I just need to go to the council meeting, and find some things out. If they have the answers…” Tarthur trailed off into silence. He knew he shouldn’t be this way. The young knight had done nothing to him. He was just in a volatile mood, and had never been able to control his temper very well.
Sir Stephen rode off ahead, inwardly cursing himself. He had blown another chance with his itinerant babble. Feeling despair, he wondered when he was going to learn and start acting like a knight.
MORE QUESTIONS
Tarthur nudged Derlin uneasily, as more and more figures came to be seated in the council chamber of King Garkin. There were so many unanswered questions, things he normally would have pondered over for days, but that he had not even thought about lately. Larger, more important questions crowded the smaller ones out of his consciousness. They were in a chamber that was rich with ornamentation and luxury, with servants coming periodically to fill their cups with hot spicy cider, the aroma and heat of which did much to dispel the cold.
They had come into the city late the night before under the cover of darkness, and consequently had not gotten to see the wonders and majesty of the city that they had always heard tales of. But as exciting as it might be, sightseeing would have to wait.
“He should be here by now, if he was coming.” Tarthur put out his statement, pleading for Derlin to contradict him, to tell him that Dalin would walk through the door any time now, or sneak up on them from behind, or anything, to stave off the feeling of the inevitable that was slowly creeping over them. Dalin was not there. And Derlin said nothing.
The servants soon filled everyone’s cup and then left, shutting the doors behind them. Dalin was not in the room. A hush descended on the members present, and then King Garkin entered. Tarthur had never seen King Garkin (or any other king for that matter) nor even heard his physical attributes described, but he knew immediately who he was. He was dressed in a robe of royal purple, which would have made Tarthur laugh if not for the solemness of the moment and the king’s face, purple having always been a girl’s color. King Garkin was of middle age, with black hair and beard, and strong of body and spirit. Next to him walked none other than Zelin. Tarthur wanted to run to him and ask him for the answers, and Derlin almost had to place a restraining hand on his shoulder to stop him from doing so.
All of the members took their seats, which were arranged in a circle with a raised place for the king and a map of Daranor with colored pins stuck in it in the middle. Dalin still was not there.
The king stood up and formally started the meeting. “Welcome, and thank you for coming so early this fine morn. I realize it is not the usual time for councils, but we have pressing questions which must be attended to without delay.” Tarthur and Derlin both thought it was quite absurd for the king to be apologizing for the early hour of the council. He was the king, didn’t he just command? The country boys had a lot to learn about court formalities—and court power.
After this waste of time, the king introduced all of the people in the room. There was Warren, his advisor, General Cilio, and an elf named Hano who had just returned from fighting on the border. Tarthur wanted to ask Hano about Dalin, but he kept silent. King Garkin introduced them next, and then his royal spy Addyean. Neither of the boys could believe it, but it was the very same Addyean with whom they plowed the fields. A royal spy! This was almost too much for Tarthur, who remembered Addyean as a hardworking and honest farmer. What a strange world this was!
There was the captain of the advance party that had rescued them, and who also seemed to be in control of all of the Royal Knights, Sir Terin. And of course Yan was also present, in the form of human and small dragon, as if to intimidate help from this council where he had failed in the Council of Gurus. He did not look like he had gotten much sleep the night before. When they had arrived at Tealsburg, Yan had mentioned that he wanted to see Zelin and catch up. Tarthur imagined that after three hundred years there was a lot to talk about.
So there were ten of them, about to decide the fate of the world. The king asked Tarthur and Derlin to tell their story first, everything since the dream, omitting nothing. Tarthur thought about omitting that part about the pie, but then he decided that he had better obey the king, and it probably wouldn’t get back to Judith anyway.
Derlin interrupted Tarthur before he could begin. “I’m sorry, your highness, but we had a friend named Dalin who was supposed to meet us here, and we were wondering if he has made it here yet.”
Hano’s surprise got the better of him. “You know Prince Dalin?!!”
At this reply Tarthur’s heart sank. He knew Dalin was not there. Hano continued to tell him that the last time Dalin had been seen or heard from was when he went out in search of Truin. Prince Dalin? Well…if Addyean could be a spy, anything was possible. What would he find out next, that Derlin was an earl?
So with heavy hearts, they began their account. They told about Tarthur’s dream, about Zelin’s decision to send them north to see the merwizard, about their meeting with Dalin, about how Tarthur had used the Water Orb to raise Tustor, and how they were on their way to Breshen, and then the king to tell him all this when they had been ambushed by Lithar and brought to Marhyn’s dungeon. They told how they had been separated from Dalin, and how Tarthur had fallen through the floor and found the senile old Yan. They recounted their harrowing escape through the tunnels, and how the eagles had given them the Rune Sword. They told how Yan disappeared unexpectedly, and what happened in Freeton, culminating with the citizens giving them the Light Sword as a weapon to fight evil. They told of Yan’s equally unexpected return as a dragon, and about the ambush by the things that didn’t die. Finally, they told of Yonathan’s wounding and the search party finding them and giving them aid. Addyean, Yan, and Zelin nodded in agreement at various parts of the narrative.
When they had finished, Zelin calmly walked over and began to examine their swords. “We have been truly fortunate, for these swords are things out of legend. The Rune Sword, which was crafted lon
g ago by the masters of Air, does indeed compel truth.”
Tarthur stood up. “That’s what we thought, but then I told a lie and it didn’t do anything, it didn’t even glow.”
Zelin nodded. “It is not that kind of truth that it compels. It searches out the truth of your being, what you really are. It may be that your true nature is to tell lies.”
“We prefer to call them unique interpretations,” Tarthur interrupted, and then blushed, sorry that he had.
Zelin seemed irked at first, and then smiled. “Yes, whatever you call them. Yet, they are not serious lies. They are not lies against your inner self, merely outer, superficial untruths. That is why it reacted the way it did to those people under the influence and control of the wizard.”
Tarthur didn’t understand half of the words, but he was beginning to get the idea. “At times I felt like the sword had a mind of its own, like it was trying to talk to me.”
This time Yan spoke. “Many objects of power are alive. They can sense and feel things and they can communicate with others. They don’t have a life like you or me, however. They can’t feel emotions except fear and good, and a few other basic ones.”
“What about the Light Sword?” Derlin seemed intrigued by the discussion as well. He wondered what strange power his weapon held.
“It is also more than just a sword,” explained Zelin. “It has no special magical properties, other than the ones used in a battle. When it encounters something like an enemy blade or armor, it turns itself into light and passes through it with ease. When the sword strikes flesh, however, it becomes once again as hard as iron and slices straight through. That is why you were able to defeat those skull knights with so much ease. Unless he hits you first, no one stands a chance against you while you possess that sword.”
“That is also why the sword passed through me the first time I met you,” Yan added. “It knew I had no ill will toward you so it didn’t hurt me. This makes it an excellent training sword. If you are fighting your friend and accidentally strike him, there will be no harm done.”
The one that Tarthur remembered was named General Cilio stepped forward. “This is all the more reason that we need this sword on the front lines when the war begins. It will increase the morale of the troops! When they see their hero destroying the enemy right and left, they will get courage and rally to him that holds the sword. This person will be able to break through the toughest lines of the enemy and maybe destroy their leadership.”
Old Ironfist was incredulous. “You can’t just take his sword away! The people of Freeton gave it to him, and he should be the one who uses it. Besides, it may not answer the call of another.”
“Who wields it is not important, if the boy proves able, he can be the one, but we will likely need a warrior who can take punishment and probably death on account of the whole enemy trying to kill him and steal it.” General Cilio’s icy voice was unfeeling—it accepted death as if it were nothing to him. Maybe it was.
Sir Terin was about to argue back, but Derlin cut him off. “Stop! Everybody stop! We will all need to work together. I am willing to give my sword to someone else to use in the war. It is not really even my sword in the first place. The people of Freeton gave it to me so I could bring it and use it to help our cause. Any way that we can use it to win this war is fine with me.”
That having been settled, Warren brought up the next issue. “Everyone is talking of the war, preparing for it as if it were inevitable. Do we really need to endanger the lives of all of our simple, hardworking citizens? And for what? As far as I know, we don’t even have any enemy!”
King Garkin cast a sideways glance at Hano and Cilio, and they rose to proceed. “We have a report from the northern border,” Cilio began. “His majesty sent us there to control fighting between black dwarves and goblins and other things that were attacking there.”
“As for your reports of no enemy,” The elf named Hano seemed to have a fiery temper. “Tell that to my people whose homes have been burned. Tell that to my friend Geriyo. His three beautiful daughters were attacked and his son was killed! Tell them that we have no enemy!”
General Cilio once again took over the dialog. As he started speaking, Hano visibly relaxed. “My friend Hano is excited, yet he has every right to be! We found the enemy, and they were weak and disorganized. We routed them and sent them back into the desert with fear! Now an elf doesn’t see a goblin but he sees his backside!”
“The enemy is real. The Death Lord Darhyn is preparing for war, and he sent out these parties to catch us off guard and begin to train his army, which is growing stronger by the day deep within Castle Rathskellar. Tarthur mentioned hundreds of empty prison cells that Marhyn has freshly dug. Do you think they are for her cattle?!! The evil ones are preparing, they have been for some time. Each day, each day that we stand waiting, they grow stronger and we sit idle. We must attack now, while we still have a slight advantage. We must be in action, and it must be two words instead of one!”
King Garkin reached down and removed a piece of rolled parchment from his cloak. It looked much like the one Tarthur had seen in the Death Lord’s castle. It seemed ancient, and was yellowed and cracking around the edges, but appeared to be in good shape overall. “This is the spell that controls the Power of Earth. It has been handed down in my family for hundreds of years, and we have always kept it for the time when we may need it again. From what I hear, it indeed seems as if you, Tarthur, control the spell that has power over the Water Orb. Unfortunately, one of my ancestors was growing old and he had a fiery son who had no respect for laws or moral decency. My ancestor was afraid his son would use the Power of Earth for evil, so he cast a lock spell on the Earth Grain so that it can only be used in self-defense. Thus, I will not be able to use it until Darhyn attacks me directly.”
The spell! He had forgotten all about that. He groped around uncertainly in his pockets, afraid that he had lost it in the mad flight from Queen Marhyn, and then remembered that it had been incinerated when he had used it to free Tustor. Zelin reached out a fresh scroll to Tarthur. “Of course I made a copy before you left Krendon. Do you think I would let you have the only copy in the world?”
That was obviously a stupid question. Tarthur thought for a minute, and then handed the scroll back to Zelin. It was time for wiser and stronger people than him to handle these things. “I’m afraid not,” said the old wizard. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t read it. (Tarthur was surprised to see that the wisest man he knew was illiterate.) You are the only one. So you must be the bearer of this power, at least until we recover the Water Orb.” Zelin turned to look at King Garkin, who nodded.
Tarthur felt trapped.
General Cilio came forward and placed a bit of earth next to the king’s castle on the world map, and a red tongue of fire and a blue wave next to Castle Rathskellar. “We must not forget the armies of Queen Marhyn, though we have no reasonable estimate of her size or strength yet. What I wouldn’t give to know more! I take it that none of our spies have returned yet?”
King Garkin nodded sadly. “We have confirmation that two have been killed, but nothing on the others.”
Yan spoke up, “If your majesty will excuse my boldness, we need to establish an elaborate and powerful network of spies like there was in my time, so long ago. This will help us both now and in the future.”
King Garkin assented to this, saying, “That is a good idea, but remember, no titles of rank and respect here. If we went about sir-ing and your majesty-ing, we wouldn’t get anything done.”
King Garkin continued. “We do have a network of spies, and the head intelligence officer is here now.” A few of the men looked surprised, including the officer himself. The king saw their looks of dismay, and then chuckled. “You all know that his name is never revealed, even to this group here. There may yet be a traitor among us.”
The room was silent for a moment, and then Cilio, who seemed to be somewhat in command, turned his icy glare to Tarthur, and part
way to Zelin. Tarthur didn’t like this man, in fact, he made him feel uneasy. “If we were to gain possession of the Water Orb, could you use it quickly to our advantage? The combined power of Water and Earth would be sufficient to destroy the Death Lord, would it not?”
Cilio’s unflinching gaze was beginning to eat at him. It was picking him apart, analyzing him, slowly, methodically, until he arrived at the center of his being.
“I…I’m not sure,” Tarthur managed to stammer. He looked at Zelin, as if hoping the wizard would rescue him.
“Yes, I think that Tarthur will be able to use the Water Orb, especially if we give him more training in its use and history, and the fundamentals of magic. As to the other question, yes. As long as he is not at the peak of his power or if his army does not have an insurmountable advantage, it will at least defeat him, and likely destroy him. But remember, the king can only use the Power of Earth in self-defense, and it may take some time for him to figure out how to use it. It may not end up being much good to us.”
Cilio seized the moment to carry his point. “Since we are agreed that this impending war is inevitable, we should seize the opportunity and attack first. It may be that we can capture this Water Orb and destroy Darhyn and be done with it.”
Sir Terin was not quite sure that he liked this idea. “We don’t want to be the aggressors. How will you all feel when the blood starts flowing, and you know that you caused it?”
“A war is never avoided, Sir Terin, but only deferred to one’s disadvantage.” Cilio was speaking in his tone of teacher to pupil, the tone he frequently used when speaking to those whom he considered to have lower intelligence than himself, which of course was everyone.
Sir Terin was not finished. “How many people will join us if we start this? They see no threat to themselves, and we really don’t know what is going on up there in Castle Rathskellar. We will need a full army if we are to defeat him.”
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 17