The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  To be fair, Larken reflected, Melona did find many ways for them to spend time together. He had little control over his schedule, but Melona seemed to be able to arrange hers to be with him at least once per day.

  One month after Melona’s Bonding, Larken and Melona were walking in one of the castle’s larger flower gardens before Larken’s evening session with Leona. Larken still ached after a long day, but the aches had begun to feel normal. His body had toughened enough that he no longer sought his bed as soon as he was excused from the evening’s sessions. His weapon skills were developing rapidly, and he was beginning to fully understand the strategy lessons his tutors were drilling into him. He had already surpassed the normal abilities of the non-Talented troops that he saw training every day, and he had begun to compare himself favorably with the other Warders he saw training individually or in small groups.

  Melona was telling him of her latest achievement in Healing while Taz and Gahen followed at a discreet distance, fulfilling the requirement of constant supervision. Half listening to Melona and half mulling over his comparison of his progress to the other Warders that he had seen practicing, Larken was struck by a sudden thought. Interrupting Melona, he asked, “Melona, do all the Warders-in-training receive Healing at the end of every day?”

  “Uh, no,” replied Melona.

  “Why not?” asked Larken. “Don’t they need Healing?”

  Before Melona could do more than stumble over a few incomprehensible words, Gahen came to her rescue. “OK, you two, what’s up? I thought this was to be a walk, not a stand.”

  Gahen’s humor was lost on Larken. “Gahen, why don’t the other Warders-in-training get nightly Healing like me?”

  “It’s no secret. It’s just a natural result of being Bonded,” Gahen explained. “Larken, let me remind you that you are the most powerful Talent we’ve ever seen. Because of that, we agreed not to Bond you to Blade until you had developed full control of your Talents.”

  “I know,” Larken replied.

  “And we did tell you that you would be at a serious disadvantage training without being Bonded.”

  “I know,” said Larken. “Bonding increases strength and coordination and stamina.”

  “Strength to a small extent,” Gahen clarified. “More for coordination and stamina. Warders have much more stamina than unbonded men. A Warder can run or fight practically forever, which, by the way, you already can do. Part of that is what Bonding does to our body’s ability to recover. Warders heal much faster and age much slower than normal. Even while a Warder is running or fighting, his Talent is already healing him and fighting his fatigue. All this means that the other Warders-in-training don’t need as much Healing as you do. Warders sort of self-Heal all the time—not as much as a Healer would bring, but enough that they don’t need Healing at the end of every day. There are still plenty of days that they do, but not everyday. And there’s another reason why Warders don’t get Healed a lot.”

  Gahen paused just for a moment and then continued, “Sometimes, Healing will change a person’s level of Talent or a person’s coordination. Not often, but sometimes. When it happens, the person almost never has as much control over his or her Talent as before, and it takes a while for the control to be developed. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s a risk that we don’t like to take. It makes us less effective for a day or two when it happens, because it changes everything we do. So, Warders avoid using Healing whenever we can.”

  Gahen continued, “Larken, you’ve been asked to keep up with Bonded Warders without their advantage. You’ve been a trooper in giving it your best in a difficult situation. Everyone appreciates that. But one of the things that has made us very nervous about you is that you have.”

  “I have what?” asked Larken.

  “You’ve kept up with Bonded Warders, and you’ve done it without Bonding,” replied Gahen.

  “I don’t understand. Why would that make you nervous?” asked Larken.

  “Because, kid,” said Gahen, “you have to be drawing heavily on your Talent even without Bonding or Blade or you’d never be able to do the things you’ve done. You’re showing evidence that you’re using the same level of Talent as a Bonded Warder, but you’re doing it without Bonding. Quite frankly, that scares the daylights out of us.”

  “Then why let me continue?” asked Larken.

  “Because we desperately need your Talent,” answered Gahen.

  “I know that you said that Bonding would increase my Talent, but wouldn’t Bonding make me safe?” asked Larken. “Once I’m Bonded, won’t that make me loyal to the king?”

  Gahen and Taz exchanged a long look. Finally, Taz nodded, and Gahen said, “Larken, we don’t even know if we can Bond you.”

  “What?” asked Larken.

  “Larken,” answered Gahen gravely and slowly, “Bonding always takes place for a Warder under the king’s authority for a very good reason. A Warder is Bonded to serve the kingdom, and the king stands for the kingdom. More importantly, he leads and controls the actual Bonding. That’s why the strongest Warder becomes king, because it’s the strongest Talent that Bonds the other Talents.”

  “So?” asked Larken.

  “Because they’re afraid that you will be stronger than the king,” blurted out Melona. “And they think that you will Bond the king to yourself.”

  For a long while, no one spoke. Then Larken asked, “What should I do?”

  This time, it was Gahen who spoke. “We don’t know, kid. Just play it by ear, and hope for the best.”

  “And finish the walk,” added Taz.

  “OK,” said Larken. “Just tell the rest of the secrets. For instance, how old are you guys anyway if you don’t age as fast as normal folks?”

  “Larken!” exclaimed Melona. “Don’t be rude.”

  “It’s OK,” laughed Gahen. “I’m nearly seventy-five, and Taz is—”

  “Taz is a lady,” interjected Taz. “And ladies don’t tell.”

  “We try to not visit the same area too many times,” Gahen explained. “We don’t want the normal folk, as you call them, to resent our lives too much, so we try to suppress the knowledge about our life spans.”

  As he and Melona continued their walk, Larken tried to reconcile others’ fears about him with his view of himself. In his mind, he was still the smith’s apprentice, notwithstanding his recent training. In the minds of the Warders and Healers, he was a potentially dangerous Talent. If he could, he would return to Ox Run to his former life. He still saw his newfound Talent as an unwelcome burden rather than a gift.

  Larken had never forgotten the barrier within him. He had understood Leona’s explanations of its derivation from his early childhood traumas and experiences, but he did not fully accept Leona’s belief that the barrier was of his own making. Moreover, dreams of Dark Elves had begun to disturb his sleep. Even before his journey to Sarkis, Larken had battled the fear that he had caused the deaths of his parents. Now, with the new knowledge of the relative strength of his Talent, Larken knew that he needed to develop full control of his Talent and emotions. If he could not trust his control, others could never trust him either. And full control meant that he had to somehow gain control of the memories that he had hidden from himself. Despite all of Leona’s assurances, he could not believe that he would be safe as long as something was hidden behind the barrier within him. He realized that up to this point, he had unconsciously resisted Leona’s efforts to help him probe his deepest fears even as he consciously tried to cooperate. Now he decided to redouble his efforts to fully explore his own fears and doubts with her help. To do less in the face of the strength of his Talent was irresponsible.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, a Warder named Jakard awoke Larken earlier than normal. Even through his sleep-laden eyes, Larken could see that Jakard was excited and anxious. “Hurry, Larken. King Andreas has asked for your presence within the hour.”

  The words sank into Larken’s half-awake consciousness slowly
. “King Andreas? Why?”

  “I don’t know, but it’ll be both of our hides if you don’t hurry, so get dressed now!”

  Larken raced through his morning routine and was soon half running with Jakard down a corridor toward the main hall of the castle. Finally, pausing before a massive door guarded by two stern-faced soldiers, Jakard hurriedly briefed Larken on how he was to act when he entered through the doorway. Larken caught just enough of Jakard’s hurried advice to realize that he was entering the smaller of the two reception rooms used by King Andreas for private, but formal, meetings.

  Following Jakard, Larken stepped through the door and moved to the side of the room, trying to be inconspicuous. Larken did not look toward the throne until he was safely planted at the side of the room. When he did, he was stunned. Sitting to either side of King Andreas were what could only be two Elves. Scanning the room quickly, Larken saw that there were at least three other Elves in the room. Larken also spotted Commander Jaris and First Healer Amanda among those present.

  All the Elves were tall and slender, dressed in soft brown or muted green clothing. They wore nothing harsh or shiny. All wore similar headbands with milky white opals centered on their foreheads.

  “And this must be the one who has caused all the excitement,” King Andreas said. “Come forward, Larken.”

  Somehow, Larken managed not to stumble over himself as he went forward and made his obeisance to King Andreas. Though his long white hair gave evidence to the fact that he was well-aged, King Andreas still radiated an aura of power and control that Larken felt to be almost physical. Even seated between two Elves, who stood out by their inhuman stillness and sense of calmness, King Andreas seemed very much in charge.

  Few humans were comfortable meeting the gaze of an Elf. Few humans were, in fact, comfortable even being in the presence of Elves. It was more than the subtle physical differences that made humans self-conscious around them. It was mainly their eerie stillness and their unflinching gaze. Elves did not twitch, fidget, or blink. They almost totally lacked the thousands of shifts, shuffles, and changes of facial expressions that were an ever-present accompaniment of human posture and habit.

  Also, Elves were not bothered by a direct stare, and they did not look away from anyone they found interesting. This made relationships with humans very volatile, since most humans interpreted an unwavering stare as rude or belligerent. The many misunderstandings and fights caused by this difference had resulted in both Elves and humans having a marked preference to avoid each other.

  There was a very old story told about the first Elf to see a human portrait. Lacking any experience with portraits, the story reported, the Elf had thought that the picture was actually a human in an open window. The Elf stared at the portrait for so long that the man in the portrait finally turned his back to avoid the Elf’s gaze. That the story was often told showed the depth of discomfort that Elves caused humans.

  Larken, who had often been chided by Melona for his own unresponsiveness, still felt uneasy at the presence of these two Elves. Unlike most other people, however, his response to their presence was an answering stillness as they gazed upon him.

  King Andreas had long experience with Elves and let the silence stretch as others in the room grew increasingly fidgety and fretful. When the silence seemed about to shatter, the Elf on the right of King Andreas spoke. “I am Eleas. This”—he gestured toward the other Elf—“is my brother Elerdan.” The room itself seemed to sigh in relief at the end of the silence.

  “Well met. I am Larken.” Larken, as well as most humans, knew the proper response. Since these were his first words since entering the room, Larken correctly added his vow of allegiance to his king, “And my service to you, King Andreas.”

  King Andreas nodded appreciatively at Larken’s response. “Larken, Eleas and Elerdan have come with a strange request. They wish to assist in your training, and they wish you also to be Bonded to Elven Stone.”

  A wondering buzz filled the room and was quickly extinguished as those present remembered where they were. Not knowing what to say, and too stunned to think of an appropriate response, Larken let nearly a minute of silence elapse before he answered. “Sire,” he responded, “I don’t understand.”

  “Larken,” King Andreas said, “I have been constantly updated on your progress. I have also been receiving communication from our Elven brothers about you for some time. They have come to request that they be allowed to help complete your training and to assist in your Bonding, which they believe must be accomplished very soon. Never before have we heard of a human being Bonded to the Elven Stone, but Eleas and Elerdan tell me that it must be done.”

  He waited for any response from Larken, but none was coming from Larken’s shocked mind. He nodded understanding of Larken’s silence. “Eleas and Elerdan will instruct you in the meaning of your Bonding to Stone. As to the rest, I have agreed. In the mornings, you will continue your training with the Warders. Although”—he smiled—“it will have to become more intense. In the afternoons, you will be trained by Eleas and Elerdan. In one month, you will be Bonded, both to Blade and to Stone.” Turning to Eleas, he added, “Please send a message to your queen with my agreement and a request for the honor of her presence at the Bonding one month hence.” Turning back to Larken, he concluded, “My blessings upon you. I will leave it to Commander Jaris and our Elven brothers to make the necessary arrangements.” With a final nod to the company, Andreas arose and the audience was ended.

  Chapter 7: Elven Training

  Later that day, alone with Eleas and Elerdan on a high patio on the west side of the castle, Larken waited, knowing that it was impossible to hurry an Elf. Surprisingly, Eleas spoke almost at once. “You have made a wise decision. We will help you with your fears.”

  Larken was stunned. “How did you know what I’ve decided?”

  “We’ve been watching you for a long while,” answered Elerdan.

  “How?”

  “You will learn,” answered Eleas. “First, you must learn to shield your thoughts from others. Then you must learn to perceive others as we perceive you.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean you can read my thoughts?” Larken asked.

  “Yes. Some of your Healers also share this ability.”

  “What? They can read my mind?”

  “Did you not know? Not all can, but some?” answered Eleas.

  Larken was stunned. “But—”

  Elerdan interrupted him. “We will begin now. You must be trained fully. We will train you in the same way we train our children.”

  “Wait a minute,” stammered Larken. But before he could continue, Elerdan held up his hand to stop him.

  “We can hear your questions. Be silent, and I will tell you all you need to know.” Seeing that Larken would remain silent, he continued, “You are part Elven, and you have Elven Talent. That is also as much as we will tell you about that now. Your Healers have more Talents than they normally admit. So do we. We will now begin to train you.”

  Larken was too confused to respond. Questions whirled in his mind, and his thoughts turned to his recurring dream of Dark Elves. “I’m part Dark Elf?” he asked.

  Eleas and Elerdan said nothing for a while. Larken suspected they were debating the answer silently with their Elven ability to share thoughts that Gahen had told him about.

  “We will not tell you more of your nature yet,” replied Eleas. “To answer your questions now will cause you to reach wrong conclusions. Wait. You will know all later. We will say this: you are not evil. If you had been, we would not have let you live until now. Now we begin your training. Close your eyes.”

  “Wait, how long have you watched me?” asked Larken.

  “We will begin your training now,” repeated Eleas firmly. “Close your eyes.”

  Faced with their immovability, Larken murmured, “Wait a minute,” and turned away to gaze across the castle grounds to the tops of the city structures beyond. His thoughts were traveling in a tho
usand different patterns, but they centered around the revelation that he was part Elven. He had always suspected that he was more different than even Melona was willing to admit. But to be non-human! How would this affect his relationship with Melona, with the other Warders, with himself?

  Eleas interrupted his thoughts abruptly. “It is best that you begin training now. There are many paths that are open to you now. It is best that you accept our guidance and follow the path that we will show you. It is not wise to try to understand those things that you cannot when others stand ready to guide you. Please turn around, close your eyes, and begin your training.”

  Considering his options and concluding that he had only one, to be trained by the Elves, he obediently turned around, closed his eyes, and waited, thinking that he could be just as stubborn as they were.

  “I will send you an image,” said Eleas. “Tell me what it is.”

  Larken immediately received a mental image of King Andreas riding a white horse. Along with it came an uncomfortable pressure inside his head and a distinct wave of vertigo. He related what he had seen and felt.

  “The discomfort is felt only at first. It will eventually go away. It is good that you have received the image. I sent the image forcibly. Now let us try again. I will not send as strongly.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Larken struggled to receive weaker and weaker sendings from the Elves. His initial success quickly degraded into frustration and exhaustion. He was left with a blinding headache, nausea, and a trembling fatigue when the Elves finally called a halt to their efforts. Only Healing given by Taz, for whom the Elves had sent, allowed him to walk on his own to supper. The Elves’ comments that he had done well assured him, but the practice of receiving their thoughts had unnerved him and had brought him a fresh wave of uncertainties. Still, he had only one choice—he would learn how to use his Elven abilities. After that, he would see what happened.