by Phil Stern
Thus, it was something of a shock when a Demon entered the room with them.
She was a lowly drudge, with shuffling gait and old, faded clothes. Anson’s internal warning clarion shrieked out ten seconds before the door swung open, the middle-aged woman carefully peering in.
“Would it please you gentlemen if I collected the trash?” Almost mumbling, the Demon’s power pulsed strongly within the enclosed space.
“By all means.” Sighing, Conger sat back on the stone bench, ignoring the Demon. Obviously, he and the other recruits thought her a simple cleaning lady.
Trying not to physically squeeze his eyes shut, Anson desperately ramped down his own mental output as much as possible, almost gasping as the empowered woman brushed against his leg while reaching for the trash. Just as they touched, Anson felt the Demon react, as if suddenly struck by the presence of one like herself.
Slowly exhaling, Anson’s only option blazed before his mind. He had no idea what the Demon’s power was, but if he flung her aside and raced out of the castle itself...
“Gentlemen!” Bursting through the half-open door, Prince Tenen surveyed the recruits. The prince’s undisciplined mental aura drenched both Anson and the Demon, instantly blocking either one’s ability to sense the other.
“My Lord!” barked out the other recruits. Leaping to their feet, one of the boys knocked the Demon-drudge away from Anson. Hesitating only a second, Anson rose to stand beside Conger.
“Are you ready to meet your King?” the prince demanded. Also in blazing military red, the young royal seemed even more haughty than when Anson had last seen him at the burning church so long ago. “You have certainly earned such an honor with your hard work in boot camp!”
“Yes sir!” they all replied.
“You! Get out!” Tenen snarled at the Demon. “These are young warriors, the best of their class, set to meet their King!” Laughing, Tenen grabbed the drudge by the shoulder, hauling the empowered woman to her feet. “You have no business in their presence, unless you wish to personally serve them as they so richly deserve!”
Though his terror, Anson managed to laugh at the prince’s bawdy remark along with the other boys. The drudge, her face drawn into a careful mask of servitude, looked down.
“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she mumbled. “I did not know...”
“Get out!” Tenen roared.
And so saying, the royal slapped the woman on the rear, the fabric of her dirty cleaning smock erupting into flame. “I would not dream of forcing these young warriors to gift you with their fighting spirit!” Laughing, Tenen then bodily flung the Demon out the door into the passageway beyond. “They deserve much better than the likes of a dirty cleaning woman!”
A few of the boys laughed, though all were stunned at the prince’s vicious, gratuitous assault on the simple cleaning woman. For his part, Tenen appeared entirely unrepentant.
Outside the door, the Demon could be heard shrieking in pain, soon followed by a muffled curse.
“A Lady in distress!” Tenen cried out in mock concern. “By the King, my Lady, let me come assist you!” Winking, he then motioned the boys to follow him from the small room. Deliberately, Anson let the other recruits proceed him into the outer passageway.
But his caution was unnecessary. The Demon was gone, only the partially burned rags remaining on the hard, stone floor.
***
Bored, the teenage princess plucked a rose from the vase beside her. Twirled between Lydia’s fingers, the flower emanated a bright inner light, oscillating between lovely hues of pink, green, and blue.
“Show off.” Smiling, Lydia’s friend Belle appeared at the door separating the outer sitting room from the rest of her family’s individual royal residence. “Shall we go?”
“Finally!” Putting the rose back into the vase, the flower instantly returned to its natural, unlighted form. “I thought we’d never leave.”
“Well, my dear.” Giggling, Belle grabbed Lydia’s hand, leading her through the guarded outer door of the royal apartment into the castle passageway beyond. “I needed to look my finest today. After all, the new recruits are here to meet the King!”
Both 16 year olds wore sparkly dresses, their hair held back with bright ribbons. And indeed, Lydia’s couldn’t help noticing a slew of appreciative glances from the male functionaries and military personnel they passed by.
But Lydia wasn’t in the mood for her friend’s boy-crazy antics that morning. “I thought we were going down to the market!” she protested. “The wagons came in yesterday with all the new scarves from the eastern flat lands.”
“There’s plenty of time for that.” Belle stepped around an old woman shuffling down the center of the stone hallway. “But the recruits will only...” The princess paused, frowning in concentration. “Oh, Lydia! You’re needed downstairs. There’s been an accident.”
As an empowered royal, Belle received mental “flashes” from any agitated group of people watching the same thing. It was a completely passive ability, and didn’t often come into play, particularly in the castle itself. Yet if Belle thought her friend would be of use, it could only mean one thing.
“Come on!” Picking up her skirts, Lydia jogged down the passageway to a sunlit outer veranda overlooking the courtyard, her friend following.
In contrast to almost all the other royals, Lydia actually possessed two separate abilities. The first was being able to cause any object to emit light or color, as she’d done with the rose. The second, however, was far more interesting.
Racing out onto the veranda, the large grassy area between the castle itself and outer stone defensive wall was laid out below them. Both girls watched a group of men with pikes in a loose circle, threatening a distressed horse cantering about.
With blood on its flank, the panicked equine was obviously wounded. Taking a deep breath, Lydia mentally reached out to the animal’s mind.
Stop running! These men want to help you!
Coming to a shocked halt, the horse looked up at her, whinnying in pain. Only now did she notice an arrow protruding from the animal’s flank, blood still flowing.
I’m sure it was an accident. Let us help make you better. Then Lydia sent out soothing impressions of the arrow being removed and the pain going away.
Snorting in reply, the horse almost seemed to nod. Quickly, the castle veterinarian approached the horse’s head, patting him gently on the nose. Then, while Lydia still held the equine’s attention, the vet pulled out the arrow.
There! Doesn’t that feel better already? Lydia asked. Only now did she notice a young boy off to the side, holding a full-size bow.
“Take care that lad doesn’t shoot any more horses!” the princess called out.
“Yes, my Lady!” answered a groom, taking the young archer’s weapon.
“That’s awful!” Belle declared, turning to Lydia. “But you did it! They might have had to kill that horse if you weren’t here.”
“I know,” Lydia replied, staring out at the courtyard’s far wall and robust town visible beyond. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“You’re very strong,” Belle observed. “And with two powers! If you were a man, they’d be talking about you becoming king someday!”
Right now that sounded really boring. Politics wasn’t Lydia’s style. “Come on! Let’s go gratify your recruit fixation, so we can then go out to the marketplace!”
“You’re on!” Giggling, Belle once more grabbed Lydia’s hand, pulling her back inside the castle.
***
Deliberately forcing himself to relax, Anson stood at the end of the line of recruits drawn up before the royal Throne. Though several dignitaries and princes stood off to the side, including Tenen, the monarch himself had yet to make an appearance.
Again, he wondered if the smart move was immediate flight. Even now a posse of Demons might be closing in on the Throne Hall to arrest him.
But there had been twenty recruits in that room. The Demon woman m
ight not even be aware of exactly which leg she’d brushed up against. Who knows? With Tenen’s sudden appearance and fortuitous interference, she might not even be sure herself exactly what had happened.
Or, perhaps the cleaning woman might have be severely burned, possibly even unable to make a cogent report? There were simply too many variables.
No, it wasn’t time to run. Not yet, anyway.
Gritting his back teeth, Anson tried not to fidget in his heavy red tunic, fervently hoping the King’s tardiness wasn’t somehow related to him.
***
It took only a few minutes for Lydia and Belle to reach the center of the castle. Without breaking stride, they quickly walked by several Royal Guardsmen sentries posted along the passageway. This was the very route used by the King himself when entering the Throne Hall, and was closed to all but royals and Guard members.
However, about a dozen steps from the doorway leading into the Hall itself, Lydia was struck by an unusual presence. There was someone, an empowered person, inside the Hall whom she’d never felt before. Anxiously she tugged on her friend’s sleeve.
“Belle!” she whispered, “Are there any royal cousins we’ve not met?”
“What are you talking about?” Reluctantly coming to a halt, Belle turned back. “Who haven’t we met?”
“I don’t know. Someone who lives somewhere else?”
“Lydia, all the royals live here!” Stamping her foot in ill-disguised frustration, Belle gestured ahead. “Come on! The King’s not here yet, and we can still slip inside.”
Of course, there were those others, the men and women with power who pretended to be servants and such. Lydia wasn’t supposed to know who they were, but she’d picked them all out as well.
But this new person was both very distinct and extremely subtle. One with great power who didn’t want to be known for who he was.
Sighing in frustration, Belle turned and flounced her way into the brightly lit Throne Hall. Taking a deep breath, Lydia followed.
***
At first, Anson was only idly aware of the two girls darting into the crowded Hall, quickly sliding down to positions along the side wall where they could watch the ceremony.
A few moments later, though, he sensed the presence of a very powerful telepath. Someone was delicately sweeping the room, lightly brushing up against the minds of everyone present.
It would take tremendous skill, and considerable confidence, to undertake such a search among a room liberally sprinkled with empowered royals. Anyone might detect and become offended by such trespass, the telepathic equivalent of inappropriately touching someone’s body in public. Yet this new person was obviously used to such things, knowing their own abilities were equal to the task.
This must be a Demon, and a mighty one at that, sent to pick him out from among the twenty recruits. And yet...there was no malevolence to this unfamiliar touch. In fact, it was young and feminine, entirely gentle, and more curious than anything else.
Fighting back yet another urge to break ranks and bolt from the Throne Hall, Anson somehow managed to remain still as this new, bold aura softly brushed against his own tightly suppressed mental emanations.
There. A mental gasp of surprise as the girl’s power directly encountered his own. Despite his own considerable skills at concealment, she’d found him.
However, before Anson could even think of how to react, the King himself swept into the Hall, taking his place on the Throne itself.
***
“Royals and Commoners alike, I give you, the King!” called out Prince Garob, standing before the monarch’s raised Throne. Everyone in civilian clothes bowed or curtsied, while those in uniform gave a royal salute.
Scarcely able to contain her own excitement, Lydia barely remembered to hold out her skirt and bow down, her gaze remaining locked on the tall, strong recruit at the very end of the line.
Clearly he was empowered, living in secret among the population. Intellectually, Lydia knew this young man should be considered a criminal, her duty being to alert the Royal Guard to his presence.
But instead, Lydia found herself fascinated. Who exactly was he, and how long had he been in hiding? His whole life? That barely seemed possible! Plus, this boy was so quiet! Why, he was even harder to detect than those Demons she wasn’t supposed to be able to spot.
Her royal cousins were all so dull, their minds blaring out in all directions. But this boy was so subtle, yet very strong!
Biting her lip, Lydia found herself suddenly desperate to communicate with him, to see what his life must be like. And most of all, to find out exactly what his ability might be.
***
Irritably strumming his fingers on the ornate armrest, the King glumly inspected the neat line of recruits before him. As usual, the Court was suffused with regal riffraff, including aides, courtiers, and lesser nobility lacking any ability at all.
There were also no fewer than twelve empowered royals, including two teenage girls he barely knew. Idly, the monarch decided to bar all those not entirely necessary from these types of routine ceremonies. Sometimes such close concentration of ill-trained mental power gave him a headache.
But such things were far from the King’s most pressing concern. Still a robust 62, he’d ruled the Kingdom since the natural death of his own uncle fifteen years before. The previous King had lived until age 84, relying heavily on the current monarch to administer the realm during his final years. Thus, his own ascension to the Throne had been relatively smooth, merely codifying, in many respects, an already existing state-of-affairs.
However, the relative equanimity of his early reign was in stark contrast to these past few years. Karden incursions had become more frequent, resulting in fear and unrest to the north and west. A horrible storm season two years ago had destroyed many crops in the south and east, causing periodic famine and forcing him to raise taxes overall to make up the difference.
All this, of course, naturally led to increased resistance to the Crown itself. Yet an odd dip in the birthrate some twenty years before was making it difficult to fill the royal ranks with qualified recruits. So, just as his military forces became weaker, unrest was growing more pervasive, stoking fears of another open revolt.
And his own family was little help. Several of the royal ministers had become lax and incompetent, preferring indolence and graft to the proper performance of their duties. Yet these men were senior royals, close to the King socially and politically, making their ouster impossible.
Actually, in many ways things were coming to a head. There were even disturbing reports of discontent within the castle itself, some apparently feeling the King was unequal to their current difficulties.
Of course, sedition of that nature was extremely dangerous, particularly with the secret “Network” of empowered Demons reporting directly to the monarch. Still, one could never be sure these rebels had not recruited a skilled assassin of their own, or might count one of the more powerful royals among their supporters.
And then last evening, news of this latest Karden outrage! Crops burned, soldiers killed, hostages taken...it was all too much. Things needed to be set right immediately, or the wave of opposition rolling across the Kingdom would only grow stronger.
Curtly motioned to begin the ceremony, Prince Garob began recognizing each recruit by name. Only half-listening, the King came to a sudden decision. Bold action was necessary. He would send all his forces, including these raw recruits right here, to invade the Outlands in force. They’d smash the Karden bandits, pushing them deeper into the heavily forested track.
That, at least, might settle down the rebellious north for a time, leaving him free to deal with domestic matters closer to home.
***
It was all Anson could do not to jump when Garob called out his own name, forcing himself to stare blankly ahead as his achievements in boot camp were lauded before the Court. As Anson was the last recruit in line, Garob then turned and bowed before his liege, ass
uming a place next to Tenen on one side of the raised Throne.
Once more this new, inquisitive presence delicately pressed up against him. As the King slowly stood, briefly eyeing the assemblage before descending to the floor, Anson couldn’t help glancing past the other nineteen recruits at the two royal princesses to his far left.
Sure enough, the brunette with long, slightly wavy hair was also casting a fugitive look at him. For a mere instant their eyes met. Anson immediately knew she was the one who’d sensed him, and was now the only person, outside of his mother, who shared his secret.
And in turn, Anson could detect the girl’s own mental shock upon realizing she’d inadvertently revealed herself to him. Living in the royal castle, she was almost certainly unaccustomed to dealing with empowered minds as sensitive as her own. Possibly this was the first time she’d been caught.
Except by the Demons, in all likelihood, of whom she might not even be aware.
But how could a royal, who were essentially all spoiled children, come to have the power and sensitivity this girl obviously possessed? It didn’t seem possible.
And what did it mean for Anson, now that she knew his deepest secret?
***
Lydia idly curled lush, dark hair around a finger. Wow. Even being as careful as she could, this boy had felt her. When their eyes locked for a second, she could tell.
But outside of feeling his power, she had no idea what his ability was! That was frustrating.
A seed of doubt began creeping in. Perhaps this boy was an assassin of some sort? Should she warn somebody? Could she, herself, now be in some kind of danger?
But no, Lydia detected no malice at all. There was only a desire to remain hidden, now tinged with a healthy dose of fear. Clearly her advances were unwelcome.