The city walls ran from the mountain range to the south, clear to the water’s edge. An enterprising enemy might attempt to infiltrate the city via the lake but to do so in force whilst being harried by the Mizumura would be an unpleasant task indeed. A frontal assault on the walls would be the only viable option for an attack. Access to a freshwater lake would mean the Mizumura could live out a siege in relative comfort until their aggressors grew tired or were driven off by the elements.
It was rumored that the Mizumura traced their ancestry back to the Spice Islanders, and such a rumor could easily be believed. Where most Valaarans were fair of skin the Mizumura were gifted with a deeply bronzed complexion, creating an exotic allure that set them apart from their fairer cousins.
Alluring indeed, Falen thought to himself as he observed the Lady of the Mizumura riding gracefully beside him. His father’s words scarcely did her justice; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her dark tresses elegantly fixed back by a brilliant headdress that was adorned with emeralds that sparkled with the same dark green luster as her eyes. The traditional Mizumuran robes of state doing little to conceal her shapely but toned figure. The effect was captivating and Falen was relishing every moment in her presence.
‘So what do you think of Mizumura, I guess our people seem rustic and backwards when compared to your court in Belnair,’ his companion ventured nervously.
‘Not at all, my Lady of the Mizumura. I find myself lamenting that I have never spent time here before now. The lake... these mountains... the vista is breathtaking, and yet it pales next to you, my Lady, as would any vista I am sure.’
‘Please call me Hitomi,’ she replied turning away to conceal the color rising in her cheeks. ‘I am glad you are enjoying your time here. Perhaps you might return again when you have more time and I can show you some of our other wonders.’
‘Of course,’ Falen replied. ‘I would love to and when our matters of state have settled, perhaps you might even journey to Belnair and visit with us there?’
‘I would like that very much.’
This time it was Falen’s turn to be pleased, the prospect of spending more time with Hitomi was a thrilling thought to be certain. These few hours together had been bliss. The thought of courting her in Belnair within the comforts and splendors of his own castle, were far less threatening.
In Belnair, he would have the advantage of his family’s considerable wealth at his disposal. Being from the country, the city of Belnair was bound to leave her speechless. The two continued to exchange pleasantries as they rode. The party was trailed by an escort comprising both Wolf and Mizumuran guards; with recent uncertainty throughout Valaar one could never be too careful.
Only too quickly the party drew near the gates of Mizumura and Falen realized his time with Lady Hitomi was at an end. As it were, they would have a trip ahead of them before they reached the evenings lodgings -a brief overnight in King’s Court before journeying on to Belnair the following day. Falen loathed the need to be present in court, but his father insisted he be present as often as occasion would permit to learn how to govern a people as diverse and complex as the Wolf, Falen countenanced it as a first step towards the Kingdom he one day hoped to rule.
After exchanging farewells with the Lady of Mizumura, Falen and his accompanying escort turned and departed briskly for King’s Court, hoping to procure lodging in one of the more comfortable Highway Inns between Mizumura and the Capitol. The image of the exotic Hitomi was never far from his mind as he rode briskly away from the setting sun.
As the Wolf contingent disappeared over the horizon, the Lady of the Mizumura turned her steed and entered the city, the soldiers at the gate snapping off a sharp salute as she passed them by. Accompanied by her escort, she made her way through the city, the crowds parting to avoid being trampled by the mounted company. The Mizumura demanded respect from their subjects and few would risk the Lady’s anger if it could be avoided.
Lady Hitomi was the only child of Velas, Lord of the Mizumura; her mother had passed away whilst she was yet a child and the once lively Velas had never remarried, instead focusing all his time and attention on his daughter, last of the Mizumura and heir to his throne. The attention, however, had not yielded the desired results, where her mother Yukimi had been a benevolent and kind ruler, her daughter grasped the reins of leadership with an iron grip and wielded her power viciously as a means of furthering her own ambitious plans.
The riders passed into the Riverhold. Hewn out of the side of the mountain, its many towers served as a reminder as to what could be accomplished with coffers of gold and an endless supply of expendable labour. Untold thousands of labourers must have perished building the rugged and imposing structure that served as home to the royal family of the Mizumura. The party dismounted leaving their steeds in the care of the waiting staff. Lady Hitomi moved swiftly through the halls until she reached her father’s court.
The guards swung the heavy oak doors open and the Lady strode briskly into the hall. At her entrance, Velas dismissed the advisers that were hovering about attending to the affairs of the land. As they left the hall, Hitomi turned and singled out one of the retreating advisers ‘Shiona, could you stay? I wish to have your council.’
‘As My Lady requires,’ the aging adviser bowed and returned to his place by Velas. If the other councilors were curious as to why their colleague remained they didn’t show it. Each happy to be out from under the Lady’s scrutiny, they quickly retreated from the hall.
‘Daughter, how was your ride? I trust young Falen was on his best behavior?’
‘He was, the poor love struck fool! You would have thought he’d never seen a woman before. The way he gawked and hung on my every word if I hadn’t reminded him to breath he would probably have expired before my eyes.’
As the doors closed behind the retreating council, Lady Hitomi turned to the aging adviser. ‘What ails you, Shiona? You look even more weary than usual this morning. What news from our agents?’ Shiona openly served the Mizumuran court as first advisor to Lord Velas, but less well known to the general public was his role as head of the Mizumuran intelligence network. His agents were scattered across Valaar having infiltrated almost any organization of significance. Shiona’s cunning and diligence had protected the Mizumura and their interests for three decades.
The aging adviser let out a pained sigh in response to the first question but answered the second, ‘Not much, My Lady.’
‘Why is that?’ The Lady pressed impatiently.
‘They are dead,’ the adviser replied simply.
‘What do you mean “dead”?’ Hitomi asked incredulously.
‘You will recall that when we last spoke, I mentioned a faction at work that were interfering with our mercantile endeavors?’ Shiona patiently prompted. ‘Our merchants are persistently undercut at market, our trade is suffering and our farmers are consistently being harassed by men claiming to be levying taxes on Gerwold’s behalf. We know from Falen’s time here that it is obviously a falsehood. There is clearly a force at work here who are seeking to sow distrust between us and the Wolf.’
‘I do. When last we spoke you were in the process of infiltrating their ranks.’
‘Indeed, and we were successful. A number of our agents were able to slip amongst them. One of our men was able to identify their leader. In a recent dispatch, our man sent word that he would be exposed and vulnerable. Apparently he had been frequently departing their stronghold on some venture or other. Our man sent word to our other agents in Belnair accompanied by a sketched likeness so they could identify him. Our agents then attempted to ambush them on the road to Fordham.’
‘You say attempted...?’ The lady queried.
‘Because they failed -their mission was to extract any useful information from the men before leaving their bodies in a ditch.’ The adviser’s even tone indicated he held little compunction for the lives of men who had hindered his affairs for months now.
‘What went wrong?’ The lady questioned further.
‘They were slaughtered, all of them. I sent men when our agents failed to report, and they informed me that our agents are dead; the bodies had been searched and our agents’ orders were missing, which means by now our enemies are aware of our intentions.’
‘Have you any idea who these men are?’
‘One of them is an unknown, the other much more recognizable but something of a surprise as he was presumed dead several years ago.’
‘Who is he?’ The Lady demanded -her tone growing increasingly impatient at Shiona’s slow and deliberate recounting.
‘He...’ ‘Shiona paused pulling a roll of parchment from his pocket and handing it to Hitomi... ‘Is Tristan son of the late Lord Marcus, Lord of the Listarii.’
‘You are positive?’
There is no mistaking it, I had our agents send another likeness he looks much as he did when he won the last Midsummer’s Tournament at King’s Court. Our men unwittingly tried to kill the last remaining Listarii heir; what’s more important is they failed. The five of them died for their ignorance, and we may yet perish should they discover we were behind the attack.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Lord Marcus had a very direct manner for dealing with these types of attacks. From the state of our agents, I think it fair to presume his son has indeed inherited that predisposition. If left unchecked, he could become a formidable enemy.’
‘Fortunately for us, Shiona, fate has already provided a solution to our problems.’ Velas interjected.
‘What are you talking about, Father? Speak plainly.’
‘Patience, Hitomi,’ her father chided. ‘The Wolf were almost certainly responsible for the slaughter of the Listarii, Next time you are with that lovesick little Wolf pup, perhaps you would be so kind as to share this information with him, in the interest of "strengthening relations" of course.’ Velas tone and manner spoke volumes about his feeling for the Wolf. ‘The son of their vanquished enemy leading a rogue faction within their own borders, Gerwold will turn the city inside out, with any luck they will take care of our problem for us. The real question is can you tolerate a union with Falen? If you see him again he will most certainly press his hand.’
The lady pondered for a moment, in her eyes love was the currency of fools, little more than a chip to bargain with. ‘If his besotted state gains me the throne of Valaar, I can bear him. Should his attitude change with his ascension, or should he mistreat me...,’ the lady paused and a perverse smile crossed her usually icy countenance, ‘something tragic will befall him.’ A quiet stillness settled over the room as Hitomi openly considered murdering the son of one of the most powerful men in Valaar.
The silence was eventually broken by Velas, ‘We embark on a perilous course now, if you and Falen are wed, we will be drawn irrevocably into the coming storm. Gerwold will not tolerate any interference in his bid for the throne, and will expect the Mizumura to back his claim. Our old ties with King’s Court will be severed and we will be required to bear arms against them; should we fail, we’ll be branded as traitors and executed.’
‘Then we must not fail,’ Hitomi countered. ‘We will help Gerwold seize the Golden Throne. In the course of time Falen will take his place and for the first time in history a Mizumuran will share the Golden Throne.’ The would-be queen smiled as her ambitions seemed closer than ever to reaching fruition.
Chapter 20
Just outside Tolanis.
Syrion approached the water’s edge. His eyes played across its translucent blue surface as he pondered what its depths might conceal. The lake stretched until the shadows of the surrounding mountains obscured its depths from further view. Sitting as it did in the midst of the Eternal Mountains; the waters’ depths could rival the heights of the mountains themselves. Who could know for certain? The water and its mysteries would need to wait for another day.
Syrion had a purpose and would not be deterred. For weeks now he had felt it, a stirring in his soul, a sense of something deep within—his body was changing. He could feel it threatening to consume his very being. His mother had assured him it was the call of the Astarii, -as one born of the stars; he would feel it as he came of age.
The sensation was familiar to all adult Astarii. It was a warning sent forth from the Celestial City -a reminder that as the Allfather watches over the Astarii, so too were the Astarii expected to watch over Creation and her children.
Elaina had been insistent that he be absent from Tolanis during the transitory period. ‘Syrion, not all will welcome your presence once you have come into your power. Whilst many of the Tolan have waited anxiously for this day there are those whose hearts have succumbed to the same poison that ran in Tolan’s veins. They will be reticent to surrender the little power they have left as they lord over these people.’
In accordance with his mother’s wishes he had packed a bag with supplies and made his way down to the water’s edge. The lake surrounded Tolan, providing a barrier of safety to the peaceful island kingdom, but today the water was an inconvenience as it blocked his attempts to leave the island undetected.
As a youth Syrion had spent many days rowing to and fro across its surface. Now he had other means at his disposal. Syrion raised his hands and focused his mind, the light breeze that was blowing across the surface of the lake increased in intensity. His cloak flapped angrily about him as Syrion channeled the wind’s power. The gale force winds tore him from the lakes edge and he hurtled across the water scant feet from its surface, spray drenching his robes as the waters were whipped about by the frenzied winds.
The howling wind propelled him towards the opposing shoreline; Syrion reveled in the sensation as he soared onwards. He wondered once more what it must be like for the mighty dragons as they soared through the open sky - whilst his current movements were a crude imitation of their majestic gifts, it was nevertheless exhilarating.
As the opposing lake edge drew nearer, Syrion eased the gale to slow his approach, too soon and he would be taking a bath in the freezing lake, too late and he would find himself hurtling into the mountainside with disastrous consequences. Erring on the side of caution, Tristan calmed the wind and struck the lake at the water’s edge—the momentum still sufficient to throw him head over heels, tumbling into the freezing water.
‘There has to be a better way of doing that,’ Syrion said to no one in particular as he picked himself up and wrung the freezing water out of his robe. He checked his pack to ensure no damage had been done and was relieved to find it likewise intact. It would have been a difficult journey without supplies.
There was little doubt in his mind that he could live off the land but with no idea of what lay in store, the presence of his mother’s supplies gave him a measure of reassurance. It would take several days to journey out of the Eternal Mountains and away from the ever-watchful eyes of the Tolan.
He would head through the mountains to the island’s harsh northern coast. Uninhabited and unobserved it would provide the isolation and privacy he was hoping for. Until a few moments ago, he’d briefly considered attempting to fly there, but images of him hurtling headlong into a cliff face or freefalling into a precipice was enough to dissuade him from such a course. After all, the journey would provide time to ponder on all he’d learnt in recent weeks.
My gifts were a welcome surprise, Syrion thought to himself. They had provided a constant source of wonderment, not to mention the number of mundane tasks that were simplified by even the smallest use of his abilities.
As Syrion walked, he pondered how that might change as he reached maturity as an Astarii. His mother had been less than clear on that part of her tutelage. He wondered whether his human heritage would interfere or be of assistance in the transformation - so many things were yet unclear, but in spite of the unknown, Syrion felt a quiet confidence as he made his way down a nearby hill trail and began his journey.
*****
It was an uneven
tful trip with the days passing quickly. Syrion made his way down the game trails that lead to Valaar’s northern coast. Harsh but beautiful, it was one of the few, uninhabited places on the Island; its rugged cliffs standing firm as the relentless waves pounded upon them. Each day he travelled, the sensations within him had grown stronger and stronger.
Certain that his rite of passage would soon be upon him, Syrion established a crude camp. Using some nearby deadfall, Syrion constructed a lean-to for shelter. Tropical storms were quite common on Valaar. It would not be a pleasant experience to be caught without shelter in the driving rain. It was uncomfortable at the best of times but in winter, hypothermia or death would be the certain results of such a foolish lack of foresight.
Once the shelter had taken shape, Syrion made a fire and prepared his evening meal enjoying the sunset as it cast its brilliant hues across the sky and sea alike. On the horizon a vessel was making its way steadily across his line of sight.
Whether it was a Tanameran trade vessel heading for distant ports or a Valaaran naval vessel seeking pirates, he was unsure, but it looked ridiculously small against the vast background of the Boundless Sea, almost like a child’s toy in a washtub as the waves pushed it onwards towards its destination. Syrion laughed to himself at the image.
Weary from the journey Syrion unrolled his bedroll and laid it out inside the lean to. The fatigue hit him like a wave and he succumbed almost immediately, his tired eyes closing as his thoughts turned towards Althea whose companionship would be sorely missed over the coming days.
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