The Alabaster Throne (The Fall of Atlantis Book 1)

by Wilson Harp

  A horseman had been dispatched to the way-camp to prepare for the victors, and when they arrived, the horns would blow to signal the victory had been won and the arrival of the commander was imminent.

  Tal smiled as they left the camp. He thought of the grand feast which awaited him, of the words of praise from his father, and of the smile of Siande. The morning grew late and the sun sat just an hour before noon by the time they reached the way-camp. He and Praset would take refreshment and re-don their armor before the final drive into the city. They rested under the large chestnut tree as the servants tended to them.

  “The battle went well, my prince. You have a keen mind and see well beyond your years.”

  “I had a good teacher.”

  “And you have a good lineage. Both the king and queen are nimble minded and wise.”

  “Each in different ways,” said Tal. “But I have seen smart children with simple parents, and simple children come from the finest minds. I think it is more the blessings of the gods more than lineage.”

  “But you are descended from Mestor, who is the son of Balket himself. Divine blood flows in you, there is no doubt you are already blessed by the gods.”

  Tal nodded as he considered this. He knew all Atlanteans were descended from the great brothers, but the royal houses had kept their lines pure, they had not married barbarians or recognized children born of barbarians. In this way, the gods were pleased that divine blood ruled the great empire.

  A servant who wore the colors of the palace came over to where the men rested. It was Conophar, the master of the way-camp.

  “My prince, the sun has reached the apex. They will expect a message soon.”

  “It is time for us to dress and ride to the celebration,” Tal said as he stood.

  Tal rose and prepared himself for his triumphal entry. His breastplate and helmet has been polished and he had been given a new spear. The spear he had used on the field of battle had a splintered shaft when recovered. It, and the commander’s helmet, would be given to him as trophies of his victory near the end of the feast.

  Praset climbed on the chariot with Tal and Antin.

  “Sound the horn,” he commanded the servants. “The prince returns in victory.”

  The sharp cry of the copper horn ripped through the air. The chariots started toward the city. Tal’s was in the front, of course, and Praset’s followed, empty save for his driver. The third chariot held the sacrifices, two guards, and the body of Brotin.

  Tal’s emotions were twisted as his chariot sped toward Mestor. He was excited to announce his victory to his father and the people, but he was worried about Meleus and more than concerned about Brotin. How could such a trusted soldier who had served his king and gods loyally for so many years turn and betray everything? Was it wealth or something more? Maybe a threat to his family.

  The horns echoed before the procession every few minutes and Tal knew the city had heard the news of his return. His mind turned to the crowds and what he would say as he stepped down from the chariot to announce the news.

  He wanted Praset to address the feast at some point as well. The general was a man of great skill and should gain much honor and prestige from his decades of work. He turned to speak to the general, but Praset’s face made Tal hold his words back. Praset’s frown bordered on a scowl. He was worried and aggravated. Tal swallowed as he realized the general must be tortured over what had happened. To not only be betrayed, but then to have to kill a trusted friend and servant with his own hand would surely dull the excitement over any victory.

  The sound of the ocean grew louder and the scent of the sea welcomed Tal home before he could see the high walls of Mestor. One final blast of the trumpets was answered from the horns which were housed in the main gate.

  “Prepare yourself, Prince Taldirun. You return a victor and this is your moment.”

  Tal looked at Praset. All worry and stress was gone. The general had the smooth, serious look he wore as a mask no matter the situation.

  “You as well, general. This day you will be lauded by all of the people.”

  Praset grimaced. “Your father may not hold your view. It is unseemly to elevate anyone other than yourself on a day such as this.”

  The chariot passed a small cluster of trees and Tal saw the city gate. The people lined the road and were piled atop the walls, they cheered wildly as they saw the chariots race toward the city.

  “We are here, General! We have returned.”

  The cheers threatened to deafen the returning heroes as they rode down the stone paved road. Flowers were thrown into the path of the chariots and the crowds surged dangerously close to the path of the horses.

  Tal looked upward and saw the pillar of smoke which rose from the temple. The sacrificial fires burned hot and he would soon have to sacrifice the captives to the gods in gratitude for his victory.

  Below the temple, he saw the high roof of the palace and the tops of the tallest trees in the royal park. He smiled and nodded to the crowds as his excitement built. Even with all that had happened, this was still his day. His father would be proud, the people would laud him, and he would be feasted and honored for days.

  The palace guards held the crowds back from the inner gate, and the horses charged through as they sensed the end of their long run. The smells of the feast reached Tal’s nose as the chariots slowed and entered the square. There before him was the royal court. Their feast interrupted by his triumphant return. All of the attendants were on their feet, drinks in their hand, and voices raised in cheer. Tal smiled as he locked eyes on his father. The king’s face showed a sign of relief that only those closest to him would have seen. Tal knew his father worried today would be a reprise of the tragic day when Galius died on the field of battle. It almost was, except for the loyalty of Meleus.

  The chariot entered the feast area and stopped before the royal table. Tal smiled at his father and stepped from the chariot.

  “My son, you have returned,” King Fa'amuil said. “What news have you from the battle?”

  “It was a great victory, my king. I was proud to command the men of Mestor and lead them to victory.”

  The crowd cheered as Tal gave the response they wanted to hear.

  “Then we will feast your good fortune and the honor you have brought to us.”

  “I ask your indulgence, my king, but this feast should also be in the name of General Praset who rode beside me in the charge. Long has he led our forces and trained our commanders, and he is due a royal feast in his honor.”

  The king’s face did not change that Tal could see, but he knew his father was not pleased by this change in ceremony.

  “Of course, my son. This feast will be twice as grand as we celebrate two of the heroes of Mestor tonight.”

  Praset joined the prince as they bowed before the king to receive his blessing. The king had a small box brought forward, as if it were a surprise, and lifted a silver circlet from its hiding place. He placed it on Tal’s head and declared this was a day of blessing and honor on all of the people of Mestor, but on Tal and General Praset most of all.

  When the king finished his blessing, he sat down and picked up his cup. Tal rose and found his way to the seat at the king’s right hand. Olatic normally sat there as the eldest son, but today the honor went to Tal. The queen moved, reluctantly, from the seat at her husband’s left hand and Praset sat in the second seat of honor which had been abruptly created by Tal’s insistence.

  “Congratulations, brother.”

  Tal smiled as he was hugged by Mira, his older sister.

  “I didn’t know you had returned,” he said.

  “Just last night. You didn’t think I would miss your triumph, did you?

  “And you brought Janu?”

  “Yes, he’s very excited to see the returning hero. He’s with his nursemaid now, but you can see him when the festivities are over.”

  She hugged Tal again and went to sit near the end of the table with her husba
nd, Langua, a noble from Ampheres.

  Hela and An’toko greeted Tal and Olatic wrapped his arm around his brother and cleared the way for Tal to sit in his place of honor.

  “Sit brother, sit. We can’t start eating again until you take up your meat. And I’m hungry!”

  Tal laughed at Olatic’s joke and sat down at the table on his father’s right hand.

  “Let the feast resume!” King Fa'amuil said. The crowd of people who had surged forward to congratulate the young commander dissipated and sat back at their own place.

  “I didn’t know Mira would arrive.”

  “It’s your first battle, brother. Did you think she would stay away?”

  “I’d hoped she would attend, but I wasn’t sure. It’s a long way from Ampheres.”

  Olatic leaned in close. “There’s another reason, but we can’t say openly yet. You were too busy in preparation for the battle, but two days ago Father received a messenger from Atlas. I’m to be wed.”

  Tal’s mouth dropped open.

  “No. Say nothing where others can hear,” said Olatic. “It must remain a surprise for the people.”

  “When?”

  “Soon. She will arrive in the next few weeks. A month at the latest.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you, but today, I am happiest for you. Come and enjoy your feast, Taldirun, Commander of Mestor.”

  “Where is Meleus?”

  Tal turned to see Siande as she crouched behind him, her voice shook and was low.

  “He was wounded in the battle,” Tal said.

  “Will he return, or was it a grave wound?”

  “Daelcor said he would recover,” Tal said. He was surprised Siande would be concerned over a servant. Or maybe she had interest in Meleus.

  “Good, when I saw he wasn’t driving your chariot, I became concerned.”

  “He should be here tomorrow if you wish to see him.”

  “Maybe I shall,” she said. “Welcome back, my prince. Congratulations on your grand victory.”

  He smiled at her. “Thank you, Siande. I hope you enjoy the feast.”

  Siande opened her mouth as to speak, but instead turned and walked away.

  “Not all of your decisions today were victories,” Olatic said in Tal’s ear. “Looks like you’ll have to do more to win that battle.”

  Tal looked at his eldest brother and shrugged. “What battle? With Siande? We’re not fighting.”

  Olatic smiled and clapped Tal on the shoulder. “You just keep those eyes open, hero of Mestor.”

  Tal looked over at his mother. He had expected to hear her voice call to him as he made his way to the table, but he had neither seen her nor heard her voice from the time he stepped off the chariot. She scowled as she talked to Praset, who sat as though he still faced the charge from that morning. His eyes were locked on a point in the distance instead of meeting the Queen’s, and yet it was clear he heard every word she said.

  Tal jerked when his eyes drifted past his mother as she spoke stern words to the general and he met the eyes of Bator’cam. His brother glared at him the same way he would when Tal would be given a gift by their father. He smiled and nodded at his older brother and Bator’cam blinked as if he saw him for the first time. His older brother looked away and took a long drink of the wine in front of him.

  “Bator’cam has been in an odd mood all day. He and Mother went to the temple to burn incense and pray this morning. They were gone longer than normal and when he arrived at the table, he refused to eat or drink until Mother came to sit next to him,” Olatic said. “Perhaps they saw a bad omen this morning. You know how easily he’s upset by such things.”

  Tal nodded and turned his attention back to the feast. Music and dancing went on until the sun grew low in the western sky and the fires of the temple flared high to announce the time of sacrifice had arrived.

  King Fa'amuil rose and motioned both Tal and Praset to join him. The three of them climbed the high stairs to the temple, followed by Queen Jala and the rest of the royal court. The sun had just touched the edge of the sea when Tal entered the temple.

  The sacrifices were stripped and bound and stood before the fire. They had been given the elixir of Rosta, a drink of some substance to take away any resistance they had. Most sacrifices were made with the men and women in a state of euphoria, and Tal could see by the bemused expressions on the men’s faces they could not consider the torments the pit of fire held for them. At their feet was the body of Brotin. Tal clenched his jaw when he saw him. There was a man who deserved to be thrown into the fire without a draught to dull his mind.

  The doors closed as the final attendants arrived. Tal tried hard not to look at the sacrifices. He knew the gods demanded them, but so much blood had already been spilt on the field of battle, he didn’t understand why the gods demanded more. His mother had said it was so the women and children could share in the sacrifice to the gods and receive their approval and blessings as well.

  Tal thought about the man in the dream and how he would have watched a sacrifice. A sudden image of the man’s face appeared and then turned away in anger and horror.

  Olatic had Tal’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Tal shook his head as he was held upright by his brother. “Yes. I guess I lost my balance.”

  “Too much wine? Or did you take a wound?” Olatic asked as he slipped back into his place.

  “I’m fine,” Tal assured him.

  Tal tried not to think of the man in the dream, the revulsion from that moment weighed heavy in his stomach. He barely noticed when the sacrifices had been fed into the fires and was halfway down the high steps before he realized his feast and day of celebration was at an end.

  “Join me in the throne room, son,” his father said as he eased past him on the stairs. “After you have had your fun. There is something I wish to ask you about.”

  Tal reached the courtyard in front of the Palace and headed toward his own apartment.

  “My Lord,” Daelcor said. “How was the feast?”

  “It was good. How is Meleus?”

  “Resting in the lower halls,” he nodded to the temple. “He’ll sleep for a while. They gave him something to dull the pain. The arrow had ripped into some bone, so it’ll take some time to recover fully.”

  “I’ll go see him tomorrow.”

  “That’ll be good, he should be awake. Can we go somewhere and speak?”

  “Of course. I’m heading back to my rooms now. Join me.”

  The two young men headed away from the celebrations and into the guarded area where the royal family lived. Tal was quiet as he walked and Daelcor chattered about the stars and the wind.

  The guards at Tal’s apartment stood straight when they saw the prince approach. He smiled at them and traded pleasantries as he entered his rooms.

  “My Lord, do you need a bath prepared?” Pitros asked as the men entered.

  “Tomorrow morning. I will not be up with the sun, so you may take your ease,” Tal said.

  “Do you need anything this evening?”

  Tal looked at Daelcor, who nodded toward the door.

  “No, that will be all tonight. I will tend to my guest on my own.”

  “Good night, then, my Lord.”

  Tal and Daelcor sat on a bench near the windows which overlooked the sea. A pitcher of wine and a few cups sat near.

  “What did you need to tell me?” Tal asked as he poured the wine.

  “Once we were able to dig the arrow out, Meleus slept for a while. When he woke, we had him chew on casus leaf to dull the pain. I needed to keep him talking as too much casus can be fatal if someone falls asleep while chewing it. It took a lot of leaf to kill the pain, Tal.”

  Tal winced as he thought of having to dig an arrow out of a bone.

  “When we talked, he told me what happened. He said it wasn’t an accident.”

  “No it wasn’t. Praset told me he saw Brotin shoot at me deliberately. He cut his thr
oat for it.”

  “No, my Lord. It wasn’t an accident that he was in the position to shoot at you. Meleus said the general’s chariot should have turned with you and moved along your right side. He said they deliberately pulled behind you and then came up on the left. Otherwise Brotin would never have been able to have a chance to shoot at you.”

  “He must have been speaking nonsense. The casus leaf affected his mind.”

  “Anytime I have seen anyone chew casus, they have only spoken truth. We use it in the temple when the priest wants to commune with the gods.”

  Tal frowned as he tried to remember the battle. The noise and movement, fear and excitement, blurred his memories.

  “My father wants to speak to me tonight,” he said after several minutes. “Perhaps he will have some insight.”

  “Be careful what you say, my lord. The general holds a lot of power, and you gave him much honor tonight, from what I understand.”

  “I did, and I don’t believe he would be a threat to me. He’s loyal to the kingdom, to the king, and to the gods. But I will think on your words.”

  Daelcor drained his cup and set it down. “I’ll go sit with Meleus. He should be awake by mid-morning if you wish to see him.”

  “I’ll be there. Now I must meet with my father. Good night.”

  Tal and the young priest left his rooms and Tal made his way to the palace as Daelcor went to the chambers under the main temple where the injured and sick were housed.

  The moon was high by the time Tal reached the square which was the earlier site of his victory feast. Even in the late hour, it was still inhabited by revelers who had not grown weary of the celebration. He pulled the hood up on his cloak to pass unnoticed and climbed the steps to the palace. The guards at the top let him pass as he lowered his hood and soon he found himself in the throne room.

  The Alabaster Throne sat at the far end, and the moonlight shone down upon it from one of the many high windows which encircled the main hall. Tal always thought it looked other-worldly in the moonlight. The translucent quality of the expensive stone seemed to drink in the moonlight and then radiate it again from beneath the surface. Little rivers of blue, which reflected gold in the bright sun, seemed to shimmer deep in the stone itself.