The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  Melona squeezed Larken’s hand, but it was Taz who spoke. “Don’t worry about it right now. Names are funny. Most don’t mean anything. I’ve been told that mine comes from a breed of dogs. Fancy that! Right now, just enjoy the trip. Gahen, why don’t we stay away from these subjects for a while?”

  “All right,” said Gahen, nodding. “Most people don’t know much about the history of the Shropanshire. That’s my area of specialty, and I’ll lecture all night if you let me. Would you like to know more about our glorious history?”

  “How did the Elves help in the war?” asked Melona. “There are a lot of stories about them, but none of them really makes sense.”

  “I wish we knew that,” answered Gahen. “They did more than fight. Some say they turned the Dread King’s own army against him. Some say they used magic to defeat his army, but not even the Elves believe in magic. We just don’t know. That was over three hundred years ago, and there was a lot of chaos after the war. There are some clear indications that Healers were also involved, but the Healers claim not to know anything about it.” He turned to raise an eyebrow in question to Taz.

  “We really don’t know,” said Taz. “Healers have also been trying to recover that knowledge, but I, for one, hope we never do. The possibilities scare me.”

  “Gahen, stories say that the Dread King was not killed. They say he is only hidden and will come back someday. Is there any truth in that?” asked Melona.

  “No, he’s dead and gone,” answered Gahen. “But the legends are interesting. They give him a lot of names—the Dread King, the Dark King, the Hidden King, the Dark One. His real name was either Garren, Garris, or Gren, depending on which record you read. Whatever they call him, they say that, before he went insane, he lived west of the Sarkan Mountains. That’s all desert now, too wide to pass without a lot more difficulty than a normal person could afford. If you could pass the desert, there is another mountain range on the other side that extends up into the northern ice. The Dread King probably made his home either in that mountain range or on the other side of it. The legends say that the desert wasn’t a desert back then, and the old manuscripts support that as a fact. We think that the wind patterns shifted toward the end of the war and dried the desert out.”

  Gahen continued as he warmed up to his subject. “Legends say that Garren was king of a mountain country that exported a lot of ore. Supposedly, he found a way to make a sword of pure Blade with a hilt of pure Crystal. If he did, no one knows how he did. In fact, no one knows what pure Blade or Crystal would look like. Blade begins as ordinary steel, and Crystal is made from quartz. But, according to legend, he succeeded in forging the sword—the so-called Dread Sword. Some legends say that he did make the sword but could not master it, and it drove him insane. Other legends say that he did master it and used the sword to destroy his kingdom and all the kingdoms around him. Some stories say that he created the Seagrave Desert in one night. Personally, I believe those stories are nonsense. I think the change in the winds probably occurred near the time of the defeat of his army, and the two events got associated in the legends. An extended drought probably helped defeat his armies. I think that the Dread Sword is just a tall tale. He probably was just tremendously strong in Talent. I’ve collected a lot of stories about that time, but most are just stories. Still, the Dread War must have been a terrible war since so many legends come from it.”

  Larken and Melona kept Gahen and Taz up late that night with many more questions. Taz finally declared an end to the evening with the promise that their training in Sarkis would teach them all they needed to know.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks of riding quickly hardened Larken and Melona to the saddle, especially since Larken finally agreed to let Taz heal him and Melona of their saddle soreness. Two weeks of camping in the open or staying in roadside inns left them homesick and hungry for home-cooked food. It also brought them into friendship with Taz, Gahen, and many of the soldiers that accompanied them. A noticeable transformation was happening to Larken. He seemed to be shedding much of his anger. Slowly, Larken was being drawn out of his shell by Gahen’s stories and Taz’s explanations. Although Larken didn’t realize it, Melona, Taz, and Gahen had quietly discussed his transformation and were doing what they could to try to make Larken feel positive about the prospect of his becoming a Warder. To Larken, the idea had begun to seem less objectionable than before, but he wasn’t quite ready to admit that he was attracted by it yet.

  They were sitting after lunch one day beside a stream that ran close to their road. A few of the soldiers were fishing in a deep pool a little way upstream. The day was cloudy but warm. Gahen was stretched out on the grass, and Taz was sitting on a rock at the side of the stream with her feet in the water. Melona and Larken were sitting side by side, leaning against each other. Taz was telling Melona about her last Search.

  “There was this really young boy—I’d guess about eight or nine—in Cowpek. He was strong in Talent but really terrified of leaving home. His whole family, including three sisters, had to be moved to the castle. His father was a farmer. We got him a job tending some of the flower gardens. I will never forget what his father said when we asked him if giving up farming was going to bother him. He said, ‘If I miss it too bad, I’ll just put some pigs in the gardens.’ Can you imagine that?”

  “Taz,” asked Melona, “how young can Talents be?”

  “Well, I don’t know the theory as much as some others, but most Talents don’t develop until puberty. However, some babies show weak signs of Talent. Most of them lose the Talent within a week or two, and, surprisingly, most who show signs of Talent as babies never develop adult Talent. That really baffles our scholars. Anyway, it’s rare to find a child with Talent. The boy from Cowpek lost his Talent later, and they moved back to Cowpek. A lot happens at puberty, and we don’t know why that seems to be a dividing line for Talent.”

  No one said anything for a short while. Then Larken quietly said, “Taz, if I become a Warder, will I have to live in the castle?”

  Melona held her breath while Taz answered, “Well, that depends. You’ll have to stay at the castle until you’ve finished training. Then, it depends on where you are posted. There are Warders all over the kingdom, and there are some that even go on extended tours around the kingdom, never settling down. During training, you’ll both be too busy to make any trips. But, later, you can take some time off like most Warders do to visit family and friends. You can even request to be assigned to a particular region. But I’m puzzled, Larken. Does this mean that you’ve decided to become a Warder?”

  “No,” answered Larken cautiously. “I haven’t decided anything yet, but I guess I need to find out what kind of choices I have before I decide.”

  “About time,” said Gahen as he rose from the grass. “You’ll have plenty of choices if you become a Warder. Unfortunately, right now, our only choice is to get back on the horses and see if we can make the horses agree to get back on the road.”

  The weather had been typical for late spring. The warming weather had been spiced during their two weeks of travel with three days of steady rain and another day with occasional showers. Even during the rain, the temperature had been mild, promising a very hot summer. Both the fields and the woods were showing more green than brown. Taz had revealed her love and expertise of birds, telling anyone who would listen about the habits of each new bird she saw. Since the region was a breeding ground for several sparrows, finches, parrots, and hawks, Taz rarely lacked an opportunity to lecture her charges during their two weeks on the road.

  Larken and Melona frequently tried to turn Taz’s attention away from birds to learn more about Talent, Sarkis, Warders, and Healers. As her understanding about Healers had increased, Melona had grown eager to begin training with the Healers. Larken could not be described accurately as eager, but he had decided that Warder training was not the evil that he had previously supposed.

  Gahen and some of the soldiers had begun trying to
teach him how to use weapons. Larken found he enjoyed practicing with a borrowed sword, although the missing fingers on his left hand limited his ability to use a two-handed technique. When it came to archery, he surprised the soldiers with his skill.

  “I’ve been hunting with a bow for years,” explained Larken.

  “Even so,” replied Gahen, “your accuracy is exceptional. Warders don’t use bows that much, but you’ve probably got Talent for it. Very few people can shoot that well, and I doubt that anyone will be able to best you once you’ve been trained. I’m going to point you out to the trainers. They’ll be excited to work with you.”

  “Why don’t Warders use bows that much?” asked Larken.

  “They do use them some,” replied Gahen. “But Warders actually try very hard not to hurt anyone. We can do that with Talent and Blade by simply pushing someone aside or weakening their will. It’s harder to do with an arrow. Most people believe that Warders are warriors and nothing more. That’s true in some sense, but most of us see ourselves as keepers of the peace. We are much more interested in settling things peacefully than in winning fights.”

  “Then why are Warders the leaders of the army?” asked Larken. “I mean, if you don’t want to fight, why lead the army?”

  “That’s actually a very good question,” replied Gahen. “The answer is, if it comes to a battle, we need to lead. Remember, as good as our soldiers are, they couldn’t stand up to a trained Warder. If we ever fight against another army, there would probably be Warders on the other side. We can’t send untalented soldiers up against Talent. It just wouldn’t work.”

  Chapter 3: Sarkis—Blade & Crystal

  Their first view of Sarkis was not a dramatic one. Whatever they had expected, the reality fell far short. Long before the city proper came into sight, the roadsides were filled with shops, taverns, inns, and other buildings. By the time the city walls came into view, Larken and Melona felt like they were already in the city. The city walls seemed almost an afterthought above the press of people, livestock, wagons, carts, and shops. Even with the walls around the city, there seemed little difference between the press of people and buildings inside the city and outside the walls. The city seemed to have sprawled without thought or planning beyond its original confines into the surrounding countryside.

  “No matter how big you build a city’s walls, they’ll build the rest of the city outside,” said Gahen, obviously disapproving of the exposed buildings and citizens. After getting a closer look at the city walls as they passed through the first gate, Larken agreed with Gahen. The walls were old and badly in need of repair. Even if the walls had not been crumbling in spots, they would have done very little good. Shop owners had built permanent structures against the walls, providing an easy ingress for anyone even mildly athletic. Larken watched a group of boys continue a game of tag across a set of rooftops and over the walls with scarcely a pause.

  Neither Larken nor Melona had visited Sarkis before. They were quickly inundated with sights and smells as they wound their way along the main thoroughfare through the outer environs of the city. The city was jammed with shops of every kind. Goods were laid out in racks and trays beside narrow streets and behind screens in the shops. Most of the shops had second-story residences, and children were everywhere, running through the streets as if the crowds did not exist. The noise and smell were more than Larken and Melona could abide comfortably. They both soon longed for the fresh air of the countryside.

  Even though the crowds recognized Gahen as a Warder and gave way before the group, the journey to the inner walls was slow and tedious. The crowds jammed the narrow streets. Wagons and carts competed with pedestrians for space and right-of-way.

  When they finally arrived at the inner walls, the guards at the main gate recognized Gahen at once and waved them through to the inner expanse of the castle grounds. Melona and Larken were astounded by the cleanliness and the spaciousness they saw within. Barracks, workshops, and residences were arranged sparely throughout the castle grounds to give a feeling of unlimited space. Every hall and residence was artfully shaded with trees and decorated with flower gardens. The castle stood in the midst of this botanical paradise. It seemed more like a final compliment to a great garden rather than the central bastion of kingdom authority. Gahen and Taz seemed to take personal credit for Melona’s exclamations of wonder.

  “This is the real kingdom,” said Taz. “This is home to the Healers and Warders.”

  “Unfortunately,” added Gahen, “that means keeping out those who would skim the cream from our lives and not stay to milk the cow. You just rode through what this would become if we didn’t keep others out. Taz will take Melona to the Healers’ quarters. After you get settled, let’s meet in the common hall for dinner. Larken, you’d better come with me.”

  Gahen turned the horses over to one of the soldiers at the front of the castle and led Larken through the main entrance of the castle and into a western wing. There he turned Larken over to an older gray-haired man who introduced himself as Sergeant Mills and began to take notes on some official-looking papers. After answering every question at least twice and scribbling his name on dozens of papers, Larken was led by the sergeant to another building, where he was given a set of clothing and blankets. Then he was assigned a bunk in a long, low barracks near the rear entrance to the castle. His baggage was taken from him, and he was told that his belongings and clothes would be stored for him in the armory. His protestations that he did not intend to surrender his belongings were met with amused tolerance. When he asked when he could retrieve some items, he was allowed to keep some of the smaller items that would fit into the footlocker beside his bunk. He was told that Gahen could arrange for him to have access to his other personal items when he needed them.

  Larken began to feel like a sheep being led to be shorn, especially since Sergeant Mills had told him that his long brown hair would have to be shortened. Larken grew increasingly irritated with the process, but, just before he reached the boiling point, the sergeant led him back to the first building, where Gahen was waiting.

  “I think we’ve thoroughly overwhelmed our new recruit,” said Sergeant Mills with just enough humor in his voice to let Larken know that he considered it a fine joke.

  “Well, I suspect that this is a bit different from Ox Run,” Gahen said. “You’ll get used to it eventually, Larken. I’ve set up some meetings for you, and the first is to be between you, me, and my commander right now.” Gahen led Larken into the front hall of the castle, through a short hall to the left, and into an office occupied by various mismatched pieces of furniture, where a large square-faced man sat behind a massive desk stacked with neat piles of paper.

  As they entered, Gahen stepped to one side, stood at attention, saluted with his right arm across his chest, his left hand gripping the Blade at his side, and said, “Commander, this is the lad, Larken.”

  The commander looked up from his work. He didn’t speak for a few seconds as he gazed at Larken. Even before the commander spoke, Larken sensed that he had learned much from his silent evaluation. Larken was surprised to find that he didn’t mind such an appraisal. Something in the commander’s eyes told Larken that he was a fair and honest man. Rising from the desk, the commander came forward to wave Gahen to ease and Larken to a chair. “Sit, both of you, please. Larken, I’m Lincoln Jaris. Gahen has told me some surprising news about you.”

  The tone was firm, but warm, and Larken sensed that the commander was a man to be trusted. Something also told him that the commander was used to being obeyed promptly. Larken and Gahen sat, and the commander dragged a chair over to join them. He sat for a few more seconds examining Larken. This gave Larken time to examine him as well, seeing a heavily muscled, gray-eyed, black-haired man with a face that reflected caring, inner strength, and years of command. His hair was only beginning to give way to the grayness of age at the temples.

  “Larken,” he began. “I know that you have a thousand questions and not a
few complaints. Just bear with me for a few minutes, and I’ll explain some of your situation.” Getting Larken’s nod, he continued, “Gahen was sent out as part of a Search team. He tells me that you displayed unbelievably strong Warding Talent that was keyed by anger or fear.” He paused and seemed mildly surprised that Larken made no effort to comment.

  “Gahen has also told me that you do not want Talent. That doesn’t really matter. Your having it makes you potentially dangerous to yourself and others. And, believe me, I am as concerned about you as I am about the rest of our kingdom. I’ve seen too many young people destroy their lives by wielding Talent unwisely. Let me propose a plan, and after I’m through, you can either agree with me or we’ll negotiate. OK?”

  Larken frowned. “Do I have a choice?”

  Jaris chuckled. “No, Larken. You don’t. I wish I could give you one, but I can’t. Now let me tell you what we need to do. Tomorrow, you will be examined by two or three especially Talented Healers to determine which Talents you have. They will also examine you for emotional problems that might make it dangerous for you to be Talented.”

  The commander emphasized his next words. “If you are found to have Talent and to be flawed in such a way as to make you dangerous, you will be faced with two choices. The first choice to have the flaw Healed. There are Talented Healers that can heal emotions just as normal Healers Heal bodies. This is the choice preferred by the Healers. However, some people either refuse to be Healed or something in them prevents them from being Healed. The Healers say that emotional Healing has to come from within as well as from the Healer. Sometimes a Healer can’t bring Healing to the emotions because a person resists Healing.

  “The second option is to have your Talent silenced. The Healers regard this action as failure. Silencing often leaves one dazed or, in the worst case, an emotional or mental invalid. Even if someone wasn’t unaware of his Talent, the loss of it is traumatic.”