The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  At noon, Jaris called together the Warder, Healer, and Elven leadership. After reviewing all the latest news and events, Jaris announced that they were to return home. Pigeons were sent with formal messages to the king of Norland, but it was already evident that Shropanshire’s help was no longer needed. Larken was asked once again to tell his story of what had happened the night before. Larken complied and suffered uncomplainingly through another round of questions and requests for details.

  The Elves seemed to accept what had happened more easily than the humans, but it was evident that even they had been astounded by the turn of events. Jaris asked that the Elves send representatives to Sarkis to join the High Council in a discussion of all that had happened and what should be done. The Elves promised that delegates would be at Sarkis to meet with the Council by the time Jaris and his company reached home. Knowing that the Elves were anxious to leave the presence of the Healers, Commander Jaris gave them his thanks and a quick farewell.

  Jaris allowed an easy pace for the journey home for Shropanshire’s forces, so their return took four full weeks. The weather was cool and mostly dry, although much of the ground was still waterlogged. Amid the relief of tension of the past few weeks, no one was seriously upset by a few rainy days that bothered more than afflicted them. Indeed, Taz reflected the general spirit of optimism by saying that she believed they could fix the rainy days if they really tried.

  Almost every night, the Warders and Healers held discussions and planning sessions late into the evening, discussing the latest developments and trying to fully make sense of what had happened in Larken’s encounter with the Source. Larken could only reiterate his sense that the Source had been insulated by the power of the Dread King. When asked where the Source had been confined, Larken could only say that it wasn’t really a place, but he couldn’t find a word for it. He remembered feeling that he understood it at the time, but much of his memory of the event had faded as if his mind couldn’t hold onto it.

  Larken was urged to try to contact the Source again by both the Healers and Jaris. Larken was willing, but he had no idea how to even try. He concentrated on trying to duplicate the experience, but he couldn’t even begin to guess about how to make the contact. This failure frustrated him, and Jaris called a halt to these experiments when he saw Larken’s frustration at his failed attempts. Jaris seemed to want to keep the spirit of optimism and hope alive more than he wanted information about the Source. Serious investigations and discussions would be called for when they reached home, but the time for celebration was not yet over.

  The news of the aborted invasion and the renewal of Talent had spread throughout Shropanshire, and each village greeted them with great celebration and warmth. Some of the newer troops were returning home to the villages and towns that they passed, and troops were dismissed since the cause of their recent enlistment had disappeared. They were greeted as returning heroes, even though no battles had been fought.

  Larken and Melona found that the scenes of infantrymen returning to their homes both lightened their spirits and burdened their hearts with thoughts of home. Larken found himself thinking more and more of Ox Run.

  “Do you miss Ox Run?” he asked Melona one night as they walked through the streets of a small village.

  “Of course I miss Ox Run,” replied Melona. “It’s hard to see so much happiness without wishing that I could share it with Mom and Dad. Do you miss home?”

  “I think I miss your being home more than I miss it for myself. Does that make sense?” asked Larken.

  Melona gave him a quick hug before she answered. “It makes sense to me, but you always make sense to me.”

  “Huh?” responded Larken. “How can that be? What about the night before I left Sarkis?”

  “I’ve already said that I was just being silly, Larken,” Melona responded. “Let’s not talk about that.”

  He still believed that there was something between them that needed to be settled. He remembered Gahen’s advice about sending signals about commitment for a lifetime, so he decided to try to clarify that with Melona.

  “Melona, I know that I love you and that you love me. Your friendship is the most valuable thing that I have, and I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t think that you really know who I am. I don’t even know who I am. What if I turn out to be the son of the Dread King? What if you find out that all the stuff that I’ve tried to tell you about me is really true?”

  “So what?” replied Melona with anger in her voice. “I already know all your bad habits. You’re obstinate, self-absorbed at times, and afraid of commitment. You are also sensitive, honest, and caring. You might be the son of the Dark King, but you’re also the savior of the three kingdoms, the most powerful Warder in known history, and probably the next king of Shropanshire.”

  “What? What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘the next king’?”

  “You don’t know?” asked Melona.

  “Know what?” asked Larken.

  “That you are regarded as the next king. The Healers are all in a tizzy because your Talent is stronger than King Andreas’. They’ve already had councils with Andreas about it. You’re the strongest Talent in ages, and the king is always the strongest Talent. Everyone was talking about it even before you restored Talent. That’s why I’m so afraid of losing you. If you become king, you’ll end up marrying some nobleman’s daughter or some Elven princess or somebody besides me, and you haven’t given me any sign that you’d even consider me as your wife, much less your queen.”

  “Whoa,” said Larken. “Wait a minute.” He paused a minute to try to let reality catch up with the conversation. Uncharacteristically, Melona let the silence stretch.

  “You mean that everyone thinks that I’m the next king and you’re worried I wouldn’t want you to be my queen?” asked Larken.

  Melona only nodded.

  “Well, first,” began Larken, “the idea of me being king is crazy. I can’t possibly be king. I don’t know anything about it, and, second, just to set the record straight, I request that, if I should become king, that you be my queen. There, does that settle that?”

  “I’d rather just be your wife,” said Melona into his chest.

  “All right,” said Larken in exasperation. “Then I request that you be my wife instead.”

  “Oh, yes! I’ll gladly be your wife!” cried Melona as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

  Then, stepping back quickly, Melona said, “Larken, you’ve made me the happiest person alive. I’ve got to go tell Taz.” She turned and ran back up the street toward the inn in which the Healers were lodged that evening.

  Larken didn’t move. Suddenly, he realized what he had done. Now he was completely flummoxed and engaged to be married.

  Not knowing where to go, but not wanting to go to any of the places that he could think of, Larken wandered the lanes of the village. He was stunned beyond rational thought. Melona’s revelation that he was regarded as the next king was incomprehensible to him. His sudden and unplanned engagement to Melona was almost as unbelievable.

  Finally, Gahen found him in one of the streets at the rear of the village. Gahen put his arm around Larken’s shoulders and gave him a brotherly hug. “Didn’t I tell you that you’d be married soon? I may have missed it by a month or two, but I knew it was going to happen.”

  “Gahen, what did I do?” asked Larken.

  “You just wrapped up your future, kid,” said Gahen. “And you should be congratulated.”

  Gahen dragged Larken back to the inn where they were staying that night. However, Larken didn’t get a chance to sleep that night because of the celebration of his engagement that continued until the morning light. Only later did he realize that Melona had been conspicuously absent. By the morning start of their journey, too many plans had been made and Larken had accepted too many toasts and congratulations to try to back out of the engagement.

  When Melona rode up beside him early that morning
, Larken asked just one question. “Was all of that the result of a planned scheme or did I just fall into it all by myself?”

  Melona frowned at Larken. “Larken, do you really think that I trapped you? Because, if you do, we can call the whole thing off now.”

  Larken sometimes didn’t understand all the intricacies of situations in which emotions and feelings were involved, but he had no trouble now. He clearly understood that the wrong answer could ruin his relationship with Melona. Forever sealing his fate as a married man, Larken reached over and took Melona’s hand. “No, I’m sorry. I meant to make a joke. It didn’t come out right.”

  Melona smiled at him as she squeezed his hand. “Oh, Larken, you shouldn’t try to tell jokes. I much prefer you when you’re serious.”

  Chapter 15: Wedding

  During the next few days, Larken and Melona spent a lot of time together as they journeyed toward Sarkis. The slow pace of the army allowed them to ride leisurely together and talk about the future. Melona glowed with excitement as she chattered to Larken about plans for their wedding. At first, Larken tried to respond, but he had no experience with weddings. When he tried to say something helpful, it usually was so clearly inappropriate that he finally gave up trying to take an active part in the conversation and merely listened. Melona didn’t seem to notice the change.

  Within a week of their engagement, they were in sight of Sarkis’ walls. Larken had expected that the celebration of the renewal of Talent and the defeat of the northern invasion would increase the normal crush of bodies and carts around the outer gate of Sarkis, but he still wasn’t prepared for the crowd gathered outside the city to hail their homecoming. Neither was he prepared for the chants of “Larken! Larken! Larken!”

  That he was regarded as a hero was embarrassingly apparent. If Gahen and other Warders had not surrounded him in a protective phalanx, he never would have been able to reach the gates. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to get as close to him as possible. The crowds pressed around him and shouted all sorts of greetings and praises to him. Often, he was hailed as the next king. Larken grew quickly tired of trying to be polite and fell to staring fixedly ahead, ignoring the shouts of acclamation and praise.

  Larken perked up when they came within sight of the inner gates leading to the castle grounds. He expected to leave the crowds and noise behind once he entered those gates. What he did not expect was the enthusiastic greetings and congratulations on the part of the Warders, Healers, and castle staff that had gathered within the gates to welcome him and the rest of his party. He also did not expect all the congratulations that were being offered on his forthcoming marriage. He had forgotten about the Healers’ extensive system of communication. By now, everyone in Sarkis knew that there was a wedding pending between the country’s newest and most powerful Warder and its most popular Healer.

  Before he had reached the relative safety of his room, Larken had heard every variation of greeting, congratulation, and joke about marriage that existed in the three kingdoms. In fact, Larken was sure that he had heard each variation at least three times. The jokes were bad enough, but with the added time it took for everyone to greet him, he was only making a snail’s pace from the inner gates to his room. Gahen at first was amused at Larken’s discomfort with the jokes and comments, but as they continued to be halted by well-wishers and greeters, Gahen gradually lost his patience. “Couldn’t you wait until we were home to propose?” he finally growled at Larken.

  Upon reaching his room, Larken found a page waiting with the message that he was commanded to report immediately to the High Council. As he hurried through the halls, each person who greeted him added a note of thanks and congratulations. By the time Larken reached the council chambers, he was quite tired of saying, “Thank you.”

  To his chagrin, the first order of business was congratulations on both the victory and Larken’s impending wedding. Larken had to endure yet another round of praise and applause. Then the mood turned sober.

  Larken was asked to give a quick version of what had happened just to verify the news that had preceded him and to clarify some minor points about his experience.

  “And you tried to contact this Source, or whatever it was, afterwards?” Henkri asked at the end of his brief narration.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Larken. “But I can’t even get close to sensing it now.”

  “Probably for the best,” sighed Henkri. “We seem to have enough to deal with without having to redo all our teachings about Talent. Well, you seem to be pivotal in all of this. What do you think we should do now?”

  “Well, sir,” began Larken, “I think we should prepare for war.”

  “Why war?” asked First Chair Henkri. “I thought that you believed the Source had defeated the Dread King or whoever was responsible for the invasion.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Larken, “but it didn’t destroy him. It only destroyed his control over the Source. I think that we will see another invasion. Not soon, maybe, but sometime.”

  “Is that opinion from your judgment or from your sensing of this darkness that you’ve spoken of?” asked King Andreas.

  “From my judgment, sir,” answered Larken. “When the Source awoke, it seemed to sever my link to the darkness that I felt. Or maybe it just wiped out whatever was causing it in my subconscious. In any case, I don’t feel the darkness anymore. The bonds that I placed upon it were reinforced by this Source or being or whatever it was, and the Elves also added something to the bonds before that. The bonds are so strong now that I can’t even feel the darkness at all. I suppose that whatever was behind the bonds is still there, but I have no way of verifying that except it doesn’t make sense to leave the bonds if the reason for them is gone. But my judgment is that the Dread King won’t stop. He’ll just come another way.”

  “I agree, sirs,” said Jaris. “It would be far better to be prepared for an invasion that never comes than to not be prepared for an invasion that does come.”

  The High Council was of almost universal agreement to follow their advice. Jaris was instructed to find as many new candidates for Warder training as possible and to accelerate the training schedule in order to increase the number of active Warders. He was also given orders to increase the ranks of the standing army. This last order caused a lively debate about increasing the basic wages of recruits. Jaris believed the kingdom could not afford to increase the wages by enough to make a significant difference in the number of recruits.

  “How then, Commander Jaris, do you intend to increase the size of the army?” asked Councilman Dirkston, one of the more respected members of the Council.

  “Through putting more effort into recruiting activities, such as visits around the countryside, and, more importantly, just getting the message out that Sarkis is in potential danger and calling upon its citizens to respond to that danger,” answered Jaris.

  “And do you believe those actions will be effective?” asked Dirkston with a worried look upon his face.

  “I do,” answered Jaris.

  “What about you, Warder Larken?” asked Henkri. “Do you think that Jaris’ proposal will increase the size of the army?

  Larken was embarrassed because Henkri had turned to him during a span in which he had been distracted by a feeling that someone was present that he could not see. Rather than try to answer a question that he only half understood, he decided to be blatantly honest. “I’m sorry, sir. I was distracted. What was the question?”

  “The question, Warder Larken, was whether you believed that emphasizing the potential danger to Sarkis would bring in more recruits,” answered Henkri.

  “Well, sir,” answered Larken, “I don’t know if it would bring in more recruits since I’ve not had much experience in recruiting, but I know that it would increase the likelihood of my signing up if I weren’t here already.”

  Henkri nodded, then looked around the room at the other Council members. Seeing nods in reaction to his implicit question, he said, “Good. Then please put y
our plans into action, Commander Jaris.”

  Larken was excused from most of his duties in light of his upcoming marriage. He was asked, however, to stay within reach of the Council, which would be meeting continually throughout the coming weeks. Larken did not really understand why the Council had released him from his duties. He had supposed that getting married was as simple as showing up for the ceremony. He soon learned otherwise.

  * * * * *

  After supper that night, Melona surprised him by telling him that King Andreas himself would perform their wedding ceremony in exactly two weeks in the main audience hall. When Larken objected that two weeks would not allow enough time for Melona’s family to arrive, Melona told him that they were already halfway to Sarkis. Melona reminded Larken that the Healers carried a portable cote of messenger pigeons for quick communication back to Sarkis.

  “But how do your parents know?” asked Larken. “The pigeons wouldn’t have known to fly to Ox Run.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” said Melona. “The Healers have pigeons at the castle that can carry messages to almost anywhere in the three kingdoms. By the way, Ox Run’s smith and his wife are coming, too.”

  Larken merely rolled his eyes. By nature and nurture, Larken favored simple, quiet times. He was beginning to dread the upcoming ceremony. He was also beginning to wonder if anything was worth all the fuss that the Healers were making about the ceremony. It didn’t particularly help his mood that Gahen pantomimed a prisoner being led away every time he passed Larken in the castle hallways.

  What free time the Council allowed Larken in the following days was crammed with endless planning, fittings, and discussions about the ceremony. Larken hadn’t appreciated how many decisions about weddings had to be made, remade, and then changed again. He had always assumed that such things as flowers, dresses, and tapestries were just ornaments to be ignored or appreciated as they were. After days of hearing Melona and Taz argue and fuss about such details, he greatly appreciated Gahen’s insistence that he continue his training. After all, being assaulted by Gahen was preferable to listening to Melona and Taz fuss about whether the colors and aromas of daisies and carnations would clash.