The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  Larken saw a bearded man, cloaked in the black and red, walking imperiously through the crowd toward him. Larken recognized him by his uniform as one of the king’s Warders.

  “Move aside, youngster, and let us see to the girl,” commanded the Warder as he approached Larken.

  Larken found himself compelled backward. Reacting instinctively, Larken pushed back with a rush of anger. Bracing himself, he stepped up to where Melona lay and threw up his hand to stop the Warder. “No, you stand back!”

  To Larken’s surprise, the Warder fell backward to the ground as if he had been pushed. Then, moving faster than Larken could follow, he leapt up and forward to level his sword at Larken, almost touching Larken’s outstretched hand.

  Instantly, Larken felt the need to flee. It was stronger than fear. It was a primal need to run away. Anger flared again in Larken, and he pushed aside the urge to flee. His eyes locked onto the steel-gray eyes of the Warder, and he pushed back mentally. For a few seconds, they were locked into an invisible contest of wills. It was a stalemate, but Larken felt himself growing tired quickly.

  In his peripheral vision, Larken saw two soldiers run up and aim their crossbows at him. The Warder shouted, “Bowmen, stand down. Now! Lower your bows.” The soldiers glanced at each other and reluctantly lowered their bows.

  “Kid,” the Warder said as he lowered his sword, “I apologize for scaring you. Can we agree to help each other?”

  Larken felt the pressure inside his mind ease. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

  “Good, then let’s see to the girl.”

  Melona was still sitting on the ground, holding her left wrist, but most of her attention was on the Warder, who sheathed his sword and approached her slowly.

  Larken knelt to help her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I think so. What happened to him?” Melona responded, gesturing toward the Warder.

  “I don’t know,” answered Larken. “Is your arm hurt? Let me see it.” Larken reached for her wrist.

  “It’s OK,” said Melona, fending off Larken’s efforts. “Just help me up.”

  “What’s happening? What’s going on? Who did this?” A stocky, gray-haired woman in blue robes bustled through the crowd to the Warder. “What happened?”

  “The girl got run over by the crowd. And the lad”—the Warder pointed to Larken—“he has Talent.”

  “Are you hurt?” The last was delivered by the woman to Melona, who had gained her feet, but was still holding her arm.

  “It’s just twisted, I think,” said Melona.

  “Good. Let’s go inside and take care of it. OK?”

  At Melona’s nod, the woman continued, “Well, come on. Don’t dawdle,” she commanded as she herded them past the Warder toward the Village Hall. “You, too, Gahen,” she said, giving the Warder a sharp glance.

  “Now, first, my name is Tazmarta, but most of my friends call me Taz. I’m a Healer,” began the woman after she had settled them into a small room off the main foyer of the Hall. “That’s Gahen,” she added, pointing to the Warder, who stood in the door, leaning on the door frame. “Now what happened out there?” The Healer sat back and waited.

  “We didn’t mean any harm,” began Melona.

  “Oh, poof, child. Of course you didn’t. Just tell me what happened.” Taz waved her hand to dismiss Melona’s fears.

  “Well, Healer Tazmarta,” Melona began again, ignoring the Healer’s frown at the use of her formal appellation, “I was trying to see what was going on, and the crowd knocked me down. Larken tried to keep the crowd off me. I don’t know what happened beyond that.”

  “Well, Gahen,” Taz said, turning to the Warder. “That seems normal enough. What happened to you?”

  Gahen shifted his gaze from Larken to Taz as he said in measured, controlled tones, “I heard the girl’s cry and some shouting. I went to the girl, saw her on the ground, and I tried to force the lad back. But he pushed me back instead. I’ve felt Talent that strong from only a very few, and never from one without Blade.” He shook his head, still finding it hard to believe. “I probably scared him. I shouldn’t have drawn my Blade. That was just reflex, and I apologize again for that. But, kid, do you know what you’ve done? Who are you?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” said Larken. “You’re the one that came charging up like you owned the world.”

  “OK,” said Taz rather sharply. “Let’s just agree that Gahen was overambitious in his actions. That’s understandable, and we’re going to move past that, OK?”

  Seeing Larken nod, she continued. “Gahen, you say that he pushed you back. Do you mean with Talent?”

  Gahen met her gaze and nodded slowly. “I was a good three feet away when he pushed me onto my backside. He never touched me.”

  A look of concern clouded Taz’s face. “You’re sure? There’s no doubt about that?”

  “None,” said Gahen firmly. “The lad is strong.”

  Taz turned to Larken. “Have you ever been tested for Talent, young man?”

  “No,” answered Larken. “And I don’t want to be. Just let us go.”

  A look of concern crossed Taz’s face. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” asked Larken.

  “I’ll explain in detail in a minute. Don’t be afraid. We mean no harm,” answered Taz. “But, first, what are your names? Who are you?”

  “I’m Larken,” replied Larken. “I live with the smith. This is Melona. She and I were trying to get to her parents’ home when all this happened.”

  “Well, Larken, listen, and I’ll try to explain.” Taz paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Most everyone knows about Healers and Warders. Unfortunately, what most people know is a mixture of fact and fantasy. Warders depend on the powers of Talent and Blade, but Talent is not magic. We don’t know exactly how it works, but it does follow definite laws. First and foremost, the abilities of a Warder, even with Blade, are limited by the strength of his Talent.”

  “We know,” said Melona. “And Crystal is what Healers use to Heal. You wear it on a chain around your neck.”

  “That’s right, child,” answered Taz, briefly holding up a three-inch pendant with a clear gem on a chain around her neck. “But let me talk about Blade first so that you’ll understand why Gahen here is so concerned. OK?”

  Getting a nod from Melona, Taz continued, “Blade doesn’t create Talent. It focuses and magnifies the Talent of a Warder, but it doesn’t create Talent. A normal person could use Gahen’s Blade as a sword, but nothing else would happen. But, for a Warder, Blade serves as a focus and lens for Talent. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but that’s it in a nutshell.”

  “Excuse me,” said Melona, “but I thought that Talent was made by the Bonding ceremony.”

  “Not true,” replied Taz. “Although that’s widely believed. A person has to be Talented to be Bonded to Blade or Crystal. It’s true that the Bonding magnifies their Talent, but they have to have Talent first. Understand?”

  “I think so,” said Melona

  “Good,” remarked Taz. “Now remember that people can be Talented without Blade and Crystal. In fact, they have to be. We have to find them first before they can be Bonded. But normal Talent can’t do one hundredth of what a Warder can with a Blade.

  “We know that,” interjected Melona, “but what does that have to do with…” Melona stopped as Taz held up her hand in a gesture telling her to wait on the explanation.

  “You see,” continued Taz, “a Warder uses his Blade to focus his Talent. The stronger his Talent, the stronger the Blade, and vice versa. The Talent and the Blade grow together over time. Gahen is a Blade of the second rank. That means that there is only one rank between him and King Andreas. However, although he is a powerful and skilled user of Blade, he still has to be close to Blade to use it with any real power. He can do some things without touching Blade, but he could not overcome another Warder without the use of Blade.”

  She paused just a
moment to choose her words. “Larken, you did something that not even Gahen can do. You overpowered a Blade of the second rank without a Blade of your own. That makes you a very strong Talent.” Here she stopped, evidently uncertain of how to continue.

  Melona opened her mouth to object, but Larken spoke first. “I’m not Talented. I don’t know what happened, but I don’t have any Talent and don’t want any. None of this would have happened if you had not come, and it won’t happen again if you people would just leave us alone!” Larken’s voice was both hard and shrill at the same time. With another glare at the Healer, he grabbed Melona’s hand and tried to pull her from her seat. “Come on, Melona, we’re leaving.”

  “Now, hold on, youngster,” said Gahen, blocking Larken’s exit.

  “Larken, that was rude!” exclaimed Melona as she wrenched her hand from Larken’s.

  Melona’s outburst immediately stopped Larken.

  Taz took the opportunity to try to calm Larken down. “Wait. I don’t know why you’re so angry, but there’s more that you must know. If you leave now, you’ll be in grave danger.”

  “What kind of danger?” demanded Larken.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not doing such a good job of this,” Taz hurried on. “Sit down, and I’ll try to get to the point of all this.” She waited while Larken slowly, and somewhat grudgingly, sat down. “Have you ever heard of wilders?”

  “Wilders?” Melona asked. “I thought they were boogie men used to frighten children, like Dark Blades and the Dread King.”

  “No, unfortunately, they are real. First, the Dread King, or the Dark King, or the Hidden King as some call him, is not a boogie man. He was a very real enemy; so were Dark Blades. They were all destroyed in the Dread War over three centuries back, but they were real all the same. Wilders, unfortunately, still exist. Wilders are Talented people that are never Bonded. Most are too weak to even be noticed. Others are strong but good people that cause no harm. The bad ones are outlaws or bullies. They use their Talent to prey on others. Those we hunt down and deal with.”

  “You mean kill,” said Larken defiantly.

  “Not always,” responded Taz, sounding tired. “Some can be silenced or confined.”

  “But how can they be a problem with no Blade? You said that a Warder needs Blade to do anything,” Melona said.

  Gahen took the lead. “Any Talented person, with the right material and motivation, can create their own Blade. That’s not the point here.” Gahen nodded toward Larken. “Unless we’re totally wrong, you have incredibly strong Talent. If that’s so, we can’t run the risk of you running around loose. If you don’t hurt someone else, you’ll end up hurting yourself. Besides, the kingdom needs you, especially now.”

  “You don’t have to worry,” responded Larken. “I won't hurt anyone. I don’t want to have anything to do with Talent. Just leave us alone.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t leave you alone. You do have Talent. For your own sake, we have to deal with that.”

  “Why? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “First of all, because there’s a very real danger of your hurting yourself, whether you realize you have Talent or not. That’s not an idle threat. If you have the Warding Talent, you’ll probably hurt yourself if you aren’t properly trained. Second, you might hurt someone else. Third, the townsfolk won’t take it kindly that you refuse to be Bonded. I’ve seen mobs do terrible things when they begin to think you’re a wilder. Fourth, Shropanshire needs your Talent.”

  “Lad, you and I have three choices,” continued Gahen, holding up three fingers. “First, I can take you as a conscript to the army. You’ll be tested, trained, and, if you pass, you will become a Warder. Second, I can take you to the High Council. They may decide that you’re harmless and let you go—but with your temper, I doubt it. Third, I can have you killed on the spot—and believe me, no matter how powerful you may be, a crossbow at thirty yards can’t be Warded against.” With that, he leaned back against the door frame, watching Larken closely.

  His speech was as effective as he had intended. Melona and Larken were speechless.

  “Oh, poof, Gahen,” Taz broke the silence. “There’s no need to scare them to death.” Turning to Melona and Larken, she continued. “No one’s going to kill anyone. Gahen’s just embarrassed because you bested him. Although, that is a considerable feat.” At this, she stopped and frowned. “We will need to test you, Larken. After that, we can decide what to do, but I can assure you that we won’t hurt you in any way if you cooperate.” Again she frowned and lost herself in private thoughts as she gazed at Larken. Then shaking herself out of her thoughts, she leaned forward to speak to Melona. “And, of course, we need to Heal that wrist and test you for Talent. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that you, also, have considerable Talent.”

  “Why?” asked Melona. “Why should I have Talent?”

  “Because,” answered Taz, “for some reason we don’t understand, if we find someone with the Warding Talent, we usually find someone with the Healing Talent close to him. It’s almost like the Talents draw each other together.” At this she reached for Melona’s wrist, which had begun to swell and discolor. “Let me see that hand, Melona. We might as well Heal it now.”

  Taking Melona’s wrist with both hands, she closed her eyes, and furrowed her brow in concentration. Opening her eyes, she stared at Melona for a long moment.

  “Melona, have you ever been tested?”

  “No, ma’am. I guess I haven’t.”

  “Well, then. That explains why we haven’t found you before. As I suspected, you’re Talented also.”

  Chapter 2: Leaving Ox Run

  “I still can hardly believe it. I don’t know whether to be glad that my baby’s going to be a Healer or to cry because my baby’s leaving.” Melona’s mother was supposed to be helping Melona pack for Melona’s trip to Sarkis, but she was doing more talking and fretting than packing. Melona had tested out with a strong Healing Talent by Taz two days previous. Since Larken was going to Sarkis for further testing, Melona had readily agreed to go to Sarkis for her final tests and possible Healer training. “I just wish I could go with you.”

  “I do, too, Mom,” Melona answered, hugging her mother. “Sarkis is not so far, but I’ve never been away for so long. But Dad can’t run the store without you. And, besides, what would the Ox Tale be without one of us to keep up the gossip.” Melona grinned. It was a running family joke that the first part of their store’s name came from Melona’s father while the last was maintained by the women in the family. “I’ll be OK. I’m traveling with a Healer and a Warder and some soldiers. I just wish I could be sure about Larken. He doesn’t like Healers and Warders at all, and now he has to travel with them.”

  “He’ll be OK,” said Melona’s mother. “Just give him some time to get to know Tazmarta and Gahen as people and he’ll warm up to them.”

  “You sound as if you know them.”

  “Actually, I do. They’ve been coming to Ox Run since before you were born. Taz actually helped with our wedding. She’s a wonderful person, but she’s an even better cook. That was her training before she became a Healer, and she still cooks whenever she can.”

  “It’s strange to think of Healers as normal people with normal lives,” said Melona.

  “Well, think of yourself then,” laughed her mother. “There must be other merchant daughters in the Healer Hall, along with all sorts of people there. Mostly, they’re just regular people, not much different from any other person. Once you two get to know Taz and Gahen, you’ll find them just like normal folks.”

  “I just hope that Larken warms up to them. He’s so stubborn when it comes to his feelings.”

  “Larken will be all right. He’s too rational to hold onto a grudge long. He’ll be OK, Melona. You just keep him from getting carried away. He’s better inside than most people realize. And he’d never hurt a flea. Once he gets to know those people, he’ll warm up to them.”

  “I hope so,”
responded Melona, but she wasn’t so sure.

  * * * * *

  News had traveled fast, and the entire smithy knew that Larken was leaving for Sarkis before Larken had returned home after supper two evenings past. For the next two days, he’d had to tell the tale over and over again to everyone who had time to visit the smithy shop. To Larken, it seemed that suddenly everyone was claiming to have secretly known that he had Talent. If he were to believe what everyone was saying, the entire town had always known that he was Talented. As a result, the opportunity to leave Ox Run behind was looking better and better each time he had to retell the story. By the third morning, he was glad to finish his packing and be on his way with the party that was waiting for him outside the smithy. The smith, however, had asked him to come into his office one more time before Larken left for good.

  When Larken entered the smith’s workroom that doubled as an office, the smith waved him to a chair. Without preamble, the smith began in his slow, sonorous voice, “Larken, you were supposed to inherit your father’s land when you turned nineteen. That would be in just a few months, but now you’re leaving. I can stand in your stead next year before the elders if you want me to and keep the land clear.”

  Larken realized that the smith spoke of the small plot of land south of Ox Run on which his parents’ house had stood. The smith was volunteering to ensure that all taxes were paid and that no one could claim the land for their own. “Yes, I would like that. If they pay me, I’ll send you something for the taxes and for keeping it clear. If not, I’ll be back.”

  The smith nodded. “There’s something else,” he added, rising to retrieve a long slender object, wrapped in oilcloth, from his shelves. “I found this in the fire. It was your father’s. I was waiting until you inherited before giving it to you, but I think it wiser not to wait. It’s yours now.”

  Larken took the object gingerly. He had never suspected that the smith had withheld anything from him. Puzzling over it, Larken carefully unwrapped the object, not knowing if he would damage it by his ministrations. Once it was unwrapped, Larken froze in amazement, finding a sword, with a faint bluish sheen marking it as Blade.