by R. L. Poston
“Then King Andreas should be stronger than me,” said Larken.
“Should be, but he isn’t,” answered Gahen. “The Council thinks that you are actually drawing Talent from Andreas. Now wait.” Gahen held up his hand as Larken tried to object. “I know that you aren’t trying to, and I know that you Bonded yourself, but, somehow, that wasn’t the same as being Bonded to Andreas. Somehow that Bond is working in reverse, and Andreas isn’t drawing on your Talent. No one blames you, but it is of concern.”
“But why don’t we just reverse the Bond somehow?” asked Larken. “I can’t believe that you’re serious about me being king!”
“First of all, Larken,” said Gahen, “we don’t know how to tamper with Bonds and don’t want to. Second, most folks believe that you’d make a good king—except me, of course.”
“Well, I agree with you. I don’t want to be king.”
“I was joking, Larken,” said Gahen. “I actually support your being king, and, like it or not, you’d better start thinking that way. Why do you think that you’ve been spending all your time in the Council meetings and with King Andreas?”
“I just thought that they were training me for the long term, not now, and because they needed us to help plan,” said Larken. “You’re spending all your time in the same Council meetings, aren’t you?”
There was a long moment of silence. Then Melona quietly said, “There’s more to it than that, Larken. Gahen is also being groomed. When a king retires, the commander of his forces retires with him. It’s more than tradition. Their Bond is so strong that it causes problems to try to change it. The new king appoints a new commander.”
“But … then … that means…” stuttered Larken.
“Yep, kid, I’m being groomed for Jaris’ job.” Gahen nodded gloomily. “You and me are a team.”
“We’re in real trouble,” said Larken.
“Larken!” exclaimed Melona. “That’s insulting.”
“I’m sorry,” said Larken. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that I don’t have the experience or the ability to be king, and, if everything else is going to change, it makes it twice as hard. Tell me, did you guys plan this conversation?”
“Guilty as charged,” said Gahen. “You’d better get used to that. All conversations are planned around a king.”
* * * * *
The next day, Larken was more hesitant than usual when he reported to the morning’s Council meeting. As he entered and was greeted by Henkri, he felt that everyone in the room was waiting for his greeting to evaluate whether he was worthy to be the next king.
“Ah, Sub-Commander Larken. Welcome,” said Henkri.
“Uh, thank you,” said Larken, blushing furiously as he sat down.
“Something wrong?” asked King Andreas, who could not have missed Larken’s reaction.
“Uh, no, sir,” said Larken. “Just a little off-center this morning.”
“We all seem to be,” said Andreas. “Everyone seems to be getting more irritable every day. Fortunately, Gahen is around to keep us all on balance.”
“With all due respect, sire, Gahen is having trouble himself,” responded Gahen. “Taz actually called me a grump last night.”
The room filled with laughter at that.
“Well, Mister Grump,” said King Andreas, “you still seem to be able to lighten our moods, so we are thankful.”
Turning to Larken, Andreas began to address him, but stopped as he saw that Larken was frowning and scanning the room as if to find someone.
“Sub-commander Larken, is something wrong?” Andreas asked.
“I don’t know, sire,” answered Larken slowly as he continued to scan the room. Then, Larken stood and drew his Blade, which shone with an intense blue light. “Warders!” he cried. “Ward the king. Someone is here!”
The room was suddenly filled with the ringing of Blades as every Warder drew his Blade and formed a circle around the king. For a moment no one spoke as Larken walked slowly past the king to stand facing an empty corner. Then Andreas asked, “Sub-commander, do you see something?”
“No, sire, but I feel something.” Larken frowned and concentrated. “It’s not dangerous, but it’s not normal.”
“What do you mean?” asked Andreas, craning his neck to see over the ring of Warders surrounding him.
“I don’t exactly know, sire,” said Larken. “It’s like…”
Before Larken could complete that sentence, there was someone standing in the corner. Or more correctly, Larken was standing in the corner. An exact duplicate of Larken stared back at Larken. The only difference was that the copy was without Blade and was clothed only in a brown sleeveless tunic
“Warders!” yelled Gahen above the combined sounds of confusion and wonder. “Move the king out of the room!”
“No, wait!” yelled Larken as he held up his hand behind him to stifle the noise. “I think I understand.”
“What do you understand?” asked Henkri, who had moved closer to Larken to get a better look at Larken’s copy.
“Look,” said Larken, and he pointed to his copy. “Something’s wrong with him.”
It was true. Sores were developing on the copy’s face and arms. His skin was beginning to ulcerate and form pustules. The sores grew quickly in size and oozed a sickly yellow discharge. The copy’s entire body began to ulcerate and rot, and an expression of sorrow grew on its face. Then it was gone.
Gahen yelled at Larken, “Where’d he go? What’s going on?”
Larken didn’t answer. He was staring at the corner. His Blade slowly descended to rest on the floor, but he seemed not to notice. His shoulders sagged and his head bowed as he shook his head slowly from side to side. “No,” he said softly. “I can’t fight this. It isn’t fair.”
“Sub-commander Larken,” said Henkri, gripping his arm. “What’s going on? Do you understand?”
As Larken turned to Henkri, Henkri was silenced by the despair and hopelessness he saw in Larken’s eyes. Looking slowly toward King Andreas, Larken drew a slow deep breath and let it out in a prolonged sigh. When he finally talked, it was with a tired, low voice. “That, First Chair and my King, was the Source.”
“The Source,” whispered Henkri. “Here? Why?”
“To warn me,” said Larken.
“Against what?” asked Andreas as he pushed his way through his ring of protection.
“Against myself,” answered Larken. “Against my Talent.”
Then Larken found a chair and sat down, lowering his head to his hands.
“Everyone, please resume your places,” asked Henkri. “The danger seems to be over. Please, everyone. Can we have a few moments of quiet to sort this out? Sire, if you’d allow me?”
“Certainly, First Chair Henkri,” said Andreas as Gahen righted a chair that had been overturned and held it for the king to resume his seat.
After everyone had resumed his or her seat except for Henkri, who stood close to Larken, Henkri began. “Sub-commander, can you elucidate us?”
Raising his head, Larken said, “I’m sorry. Elucidate?”
“He means tell us what just happened,” interjected Gahen.
“Elucidate means to enlighten or inform,” added Henkri. “I tend to get verbose when I’m at a loss for thought.”
“Oh,” said Larken. “Well, first, what we saw was only an image, not really the Source, but it still was really here. I mean, it is here all the time, but it was here specially so that we could know that it was here. Uh, am I making any sense, sir?”
“Not much,” said Henkri. “I take it that the Source doesn’t really look like that, but it wanted to communicate with us.”
“Exactly,” said Larken. “It wasn’t the Source. It was just an image of the Source so that it could communicate with us.”
“How did you know it was the Source?” asked Henkri.
“I recognized it by its feel,” said Larken. “I was sure once it appeared. It’s worried.”
&nbs
p; “What do you mean, ‘It’s worried’?”
“I’m being corrupted,” said Larken. “That’s what it came to warn us about. If you’ll bear with me for a minute or two, I’ll try to explain.”
“You see,” Larken began as Henkri sat back down at the head of the table, “before this, the Dread King was trying to shut off the Source, but it woke up, and it won’t allow him to do that anymore. So, he’s doing something else. He’s corrupting me. Remember that we share a channel or something like a channel. Maybe we just have the same type of Talent. I don’t know. Anyway, even though he can’t get to me directly, and he can’t affect the Source directly, he’s found a way to taint the channel we share. Simply speaking, he can’t shut off the supply, he can’t get to me directly, so he’s poisoning the Talent I draw.”
“What do you—” began Henkri, but Larken held up his hand to stop him.
“I know this sounds crazy, but please let me get through it once before I answer questions. I can’t explain everything at once,” said Larken. “You see, I guess, before the Source awoke, the channel between it and us was being slowly choked off. That not only choked off our ability to use it, but also choked off its awareness of our needs. Now, the Source is awake and will stop any attempt to choke it off again. The Source added its own power to the bonds around the darkness within me, so the Dread King can’t touch me directly. But now, the Dread King, or whoever, is tainting the channel that I draw Talent by.
“You see, Talent is neither good nor bad. It simply is. We can use it for good or bad, but most people use it for good because they are good. Some use it for bad because they get angry or hurt or just because they are tainted with evil. But, if Talent were evil, it would taint the user to use it for evil. That’s what the Dread King is doing. By tainting the channel I use with darkness, or what we call evil, he will eventually taint me. Then, when I use Talent, I will be more angry or cruel or impatient or whatever. He hopes that, sooner or later, I might even be evil. Then I will be his.”
Henkri remained silent for a few moments. Then he slowly said, “Let me try to summarize what you said. Rather than limit our use of Talent, which comes from the Source, the Dread King is poisoning your channel to the Source, so that as you use Talent, you will become tainted with this evil. Is this correct?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Larken. “Except that good and evil are our terms. It feels more like light and darkness to the Source.”
“How do you know that?” asked Henkri. “Du you get all of that from just seeing the Source?”
“It told me,” said Larken. “No so much in words, but in understanding. It’s hard to explain.”
“May I ask a question?” asked Gahen. Getting a permissive wave of the hand from Henkri, he continued, “If the Source can tell good from evil, or light from darkness, and it is conscious enough to communicate with you, why doesn’t it stop this?”
“I don’t know,” said Larken. “I don’t think it can. It isn’t the Source itself that is being poisoned. It’s the channel that I use. Imagine the Source as a lake. Picture a stream going from it to me. It’s the stream that’s being poisoned. The lake can’t do anything about it.”
“Then what does it want us to do?” asked Andreas. “And why would the Source come to you personally?”
“It wants us to know about it,” answered Larken. “It doesn’t understand like we do. It doesn’t think like we do. I don’t think it normally focuses on a particular time or place or person like we do. But it can tell that something important is going really wrong. Maybe this is a big enough problem that it could sense that something needed to be done.”
“This is fantastic, in the very real sense of that word,” said Henkri. “This is more fantastic than some of our legends that most of us don’t believe. OK, Sub-commander, you have our rapt attention. What do you suggest?”
“I suggest that I be very careful about how I use Talent, sir. If I am correct, the more I use Talent, the more dangerous my Talent is. Healer Melona will affirm that I have been particularly edgy lately. This is probably why. The other thing that we’re going to have to do is be particularly careful in reviewing my thinking and decisions. I know that I’ve been wanting more and more to find quick solutions to problems. That probably is coming from the corruption, not from my best judgment.”
“That doesn’t make it the wrong decision, however,” said King Andreas. “We can’t be so careful that we are paralyzed by fear. We will, however, keep it in mind in our dealings with you. More to the immediate point, Warder Larken, how are we supposed to stop this corruption that you speak of?”
“I don’t know, sire,” answered Larken. “I’m not even sure that we’re going to be able to see its effect.”
“Yes, we have,” said Amanda, speaking for the first time. “Unfortunately, I now understand how much we’re seeing it.”
“Please explain,” asked Henkri.
“Well, as you may or may not know,” started Amanda, “Healing is a two-way process. Healers struggle against all sorts of unpleasantness: injuries, poisons, and infection. Some of us also struggle against weakness of body, mind, or spirit. Some Healing is actually a struggle against a person’s desire to be hurt or punished. In many cases, the Healer is affected by what she is trying to Heal. Therefore, we have to be always on our guard against being overwhelmed by what we are trying to Heal. We’ve never discussed this outside the Healing community.”
“Fascinating,” said Henkri. “But what is the relevance of this?”
“Healer Melona has been having increasing problems with anger, or despondency, or something. Since she and Warder Larken are in close contact, this poisoning of his Talent may be affecting her moods. We didn’t understand why she was being so off lately, now I think we do. I’m going to suggest that Warder Larken submit to daily Healings with some of our Healers that specialize in emotional healing.”
“Are you suggesting that Sub-commander Larken is emotionally unbalanced?” asked Henkri.
“No, sir,” answered Amanda. “But, if he is being contaminated with dark influences or whatever, they will be able to help him find it and remove it. That’s part of their training and Talent. They often need to eliminate dark thoughts and emotions from a patient before they can Heal the root cause of emotional illnesses. In this case, the danger is coming from external sources, but they still should be able to help get rid of them. That should keep him out of danger.”
“Then we will have stymied the Dread King’s latest thrust,” said King Andreas. “How do you feel about Healer Amanda’s suggestion, Sub-commander?”
“I like it, sire,” answered Larken. “I think it would be a good thing.”
“Good,” said Andreas. “Then it’s settled. First Healer Amanda, please schedule whatever is needed with Sub-commander Larken. Now, let’s find some way to eliminate this Dread King once and for all.”
Chapter 20: Reconnaissance
“Damn!” muttered Tragen as they crested the next hill. “There’s nothing here but miles and miles of nothing.”
“Isn’t that good?” asked Daniel. “I’m not anxious to meet an army right now.”
“Yeah,” added Joseph. “I’ll be happy if we go all the way to the Eastern Sea without seeing more than a chipmunk.”
“DON’T mention water to me!” said Tragen, turning in his saddle to glare at his two companions. “I ain’t ever going to get in another boat.”
Tragen still wasn’t quite over the three weeks of seasickness that had plagued him during their trip around Norland. They had finally landed beyond the boundary of Norland when increasingly icy weather had made sailing impractical. Now, they were trying to stealthily travel into the northern regions of the Dristan Mountains.
Their purpose was simple, but dangerous: find out what the Dark Forces were doing. Simple, except that they neither knew where the Dark Forces were or what else might await them. They were dressed as common travelers, posing as scouts for a caravan of traders. None of the t
hree believed for a moment that their story would save them if they were captured. There was simply no non-military reason why three travelers from Norland would be approaching the Dristan Mountains, especially after two invasions. Therefore, they were wandering around in hostile territory, effectively lost, trying not to get found. None of the three had high hopes of success.
Riding by night had been their first choice, until Daniel had noted that the North Star was in the east. At that moment, they gave up traveling by night along with the idea of their being competent navigators.
“What we need is an Elf,” complained Tragen. “They’re never lost.”
“That’s because they never go anywhere,” returned Joseph. “In fact, that’s probably why they wouldn’t come with us—they didn’t want to be lost.”
“Well, I say that we cover three more hills and then we stop for lunch,” said Tragen.
“Agreed,” said Daniel and Joseph together.
Two more hills were all that it took.
“Damn!” said Tragen as they lay on a rock outcropping peering through telescopes at a plain that lay before them. “There must be five scouting parties out there. How did they miss us?”
“Don’t know,” said Joseph. “Except that they’re headed west, and we were moving south. Maybe we just haven’t crossed their path yet.”
“OK,” said Tragen. “Let’s cover our tracks and hide for a while. This looks like as good a vantage point as any we’ll find. We can put the horses in that tangle back there. I doubt if anyone is going in there.”
Five days later, they were barely talking to each other. They were too stunned and depressed. An army seemingly without end was still moving past them on the plain below. They had retreated into the tangle of briars to avoid discovery. Now they were cut off from any escape until the army finished moving past.
“How slow can they walk?” whispered Daniel for the tenth time.
“As slow as the oxen pulling the supplies,” said Tragen. “You know that. They’re still mustering. Every time another group joins them, they lose travel time. The good news is that the slower they walk, the longer it will take them to get to Norland.”