The Chronicle

by David F. Farris

  “My queen knows where I stand on this subject,” Valp said, looking forward again. “I believe it is vital that the royal firstborns stay close to home. And I don’t think that the two of you are destined to be like that wretched, evil man. I talked to Titus, briefly, before he was sent to the Intel Kingdom by the queen. He informed me of Olivia’s role the night of former Queen Salia’s murder.” He gazed at Olivia again and said, “I’m guessing she partook in that for her mother.”

  Olivia didn’t respond, but Bryson still had his gripes. “And what of me have you heard that would make you trust me?”

  “You didn’t lay a hand on Olivia or your mother when they attacked you at Phesaw. That frustrated Queen Apoleia because when she looked at you, she saw only Mendac. However, your actions were nothing of the sort.”

  “And how do you know about the finer details of that day?” Bryson asked. “I doubt my mom made such information public, considering the fact that she wanted her city to hate me. And she definitely wouldn’t tell men. Olivia has told me about the vast difference between women and men in terms of power in this culture.”

  Valp gave a slow nod. “That is correct. I, however, have a connection with someone who is closer to the queen than anyone else.”

  “And who is that?”

  “I am not just the general; I am the fiancé of Princess Ropinia, younger sister of Queen Apoleia.”

  Olivia finally turned her attention toward Valp. “I remember you. I saw you at the head dining table during the feast, the night when Ropinia was crowned as queen and Salia was murdered.”

  “I’ll never forget seeing you that night,” Valp said. “Every eye in that dining hall was drawn to you, and for good reason. They may have not known it, but I knew who you were.”

  Bryson took a seat behind Olivia and Valp. “So Ropinia, who is my aunt, spills information from Apoleia to you.”

  “Not in a conniving way,” Valp said, turning in his seat. “We share our lives at the end of each day. Nothing is intended to be done with the information.”

  Bryson leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he connected the dots. “So you’re like my uncle?”

  Valp’s lips curled into a smirk. “Not yet, but soon. Mine and Ropinia’s wedding was to be this weekend, but it has been delayed with your arrival.”

  Eyes shifting to the side, Bryson muttered, “I’m sorry.”

  Turning forward again, Valp said, “No harm done.”

  “Can I request we visit somewhere before we get to whatever our destination is?” Olivia asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Valp said. “For now, you must turn in for the day. We have a long journey to the heart of the capital, so rest.”

  “That’s impossible,” Bryson whined, his teeth chattering.

  Valp stood up and rounded the few rows of chairs before grabbing a bundle of blankets from the back. He tossed them to Bryson before returning to the front. “Knowing who it was I’d be escorting, I had made sure to stock up on heavy material before leaving.”

  Bryson twisted himself within the layers of wool, his rigid bones succumbing to the warmth and comfort. He felt at ease. Following the hostile welcome at the teleplatforms and deadly journey across the Diamond Sea, this was a welcome change.

  “Get some rest,” Valp said.

  * * *

  Midnight had just passed by the time Bryson and Olivia entered a room in a luxurious tavern close to Kindoliya Palace’s eastern gate. Valp had dropped them off and signed them in before continuing to the palace grounds. Bryson wrapped himself tight in blankets as he sat on the bed’s stiff sheets. Olivia lay on the bed opposite of his, not quite as bothered by the cold.

  Bryson coughed, expelling a white cloud from his mouth. “Why does Vistas get a personal steam room, but we get nothing?”

  “Vistas is likely in the palace, or somewhere on the grounds,” Olivia said. “That’s the only place such a luxury would exist. There’s only one equivalent outside of palace grounds, and that’s a retreat building to the palace’s west. We can go there tomorrow, if we’re permitted. Still, I doubt Valp was telling the truth earlier about where Vistas would be taken. They wouldn’t want us looking for him.”

  “We’re not here on vacation,” Bryson muttered. “I want to know what’s happening. I already spent over a year sitting idly by in Dunami; I’m not repeating that.”

  “Well, we don’t have much of a choice, it seems,” Olivia said, her gaze fixated on the ceiling. “More than anything, we must respect our mother. That is our role as of right now. If we prove to be defiant, that will push her away—as well as Valp. We seem to be in his good graces, and I don’t want that to change. He might keep us in the loop. Aunt Ropinia will keep him updated.”

  “We must do something,” Bryson mumbled.

  “We must not,” Olivia rebuked. “Put your trust in Titus and Director Jugtah.”

  Bryson’s gaze fell to the floor as he reflected on the former Intel Director. Put trust in him? How could he? That man had decided to omit the fact that he had once worked with Mendac as his closest assistant. Not once had it been mentioned. There had to have been a reason for it—something beyond guilt. Bryson didn’t trust that man at all.

  His mind drifted to the other two people they had traveled here with. “What about Toshik and Vuilni?” Bryson asked. “Vuilni might be able to restrain herself, but Toshik will grow antsy. He will not be contained—especially not in the current state he’s in.”

  “Focus on yourself, Bry,” Olivia said. “You’re more headstrong than anyone.”

  Bryson observed his sister. Here she was, just outside of reach of her mother—a woman who had cast her aside after a lifetime of companionship—yet she was the most levelheaded of them all, the ideal image of composure. It was a trait Bryson had always admired about her, but it had never been as more evident as it was right now.

  * * *

  Titus and Jugtah walked through a corridor between three corporals who were positioned in a triangular formation around them.

  “It has been quite some time,” Titus said, addressing the three officers. “I’m glad to see your faces again.”

  None of them returned the pleasantries—not surprising in the least. He had already tried several times to garner their attention. He glanced at Jugtah, whose face had finally relaxed over the past few hours. Titus had grown worried that Jugtah would collapse under the stress, that he’d croak the moment Queen Apoleia confronted him. Perhaps he still would. After all, being in the presence of a woman such as her was not something that one could prepare for.

  The frozen doors at the end of the corridor were taller than most buildings in the city and served as the entrance to the throne room. Titus had seen these doors many times in his life, but he had never entered them. Salia Still—not fond of her daughter’s attraction to Titus—had barred him from stepping foot in any royal area.

  The doors grew translucent as they approached. It was as if the ice had thinned, granting a visual of what was contained within the room. Titus’s heartbeat raced as he spotted his love seated on the Glacial Throne. Eventually the door melted into nothing, and the three corporals stepped to the side.

  Considering that his cue, Titus stepped forward. Jugtah followed suit while the corporals remained in the hall. Soon the door reformed, and the two men were left alone with the Still Queen.

  Like most throne rooms, it was long and cavernous. Frozen stalactites hung from the ceiling. The room’s sides were decorated with stalagmites of ice, bordering the crystallized tiled floor that led to the throne. As they followed the path, it widened as the stalagmites at their sides thinned. Below the stage on which the throne sat were three plain wooden coffins. Seeing the wood amongst the backdrop of blue, white, and silver was jarring. They came to a stop just before the coffins, and Apoleia leaned toward Jugtah with interest, seeming to purposely avoid eye contact with Titus.

  “Milady,” Jugtah said, offering a bow worthy of a Gefal or Bozani.

  She stoo
d up and strode down the few steps between the stage and the main floor. Ice coated several areas of her face. The edges of her ears, her neck, and eyelashes were just a few of the more evident spots. She stepped between two of the coffins and said, “You weave miracles, do you, friend of Mendac?”

  “Milady, I weave Intel Energy. I simply can do things with it that are outside the realm of comprehension for most, which would make them seem to be miracles.” He paused and shook his head. “And I was no friend of Mendac once I learned of his deeds, milady.”

  “You mean to tell me that you never knew the details of his many escapades into the Dark Realm?” she asked.

  “I thought I did.” Jugtah frowned toward the floor, then mumbled, “Obviously, I was mistaken, milady.”

  She stared at him, cold as ice, for several seconds before saying, “Forgive me if I do not believe you.”

  Titus shifted from foot to foot, unnerved that Apoleia still hadn’t acknowledged him.

  The queen glanced at a casket next to her and said, “It was rather reckless for you and your friends to venture into my kingdom and seek me out. I am a staunch opponent of the Intel family and a big contributor to the SCAPD alliance. And for Titus to bring you here, no less,” she said softly, her voice trailing off. “It makes me wonder how weak he must have been to be swayed to your side.”

  “You are misin—” Titus started to say.

  “Regardless,” Apoleia said, continuing to address Jugtah and cutting Titus off as if he hadn’t even spoken. “I am willing to look past these annoyances for the time being. I will give you a chance to showcase your skills before you near my father. Who knows what you and Mendac’s vile child have planned? I couldn’t have you trying to kill my father while he can’t move to protect himself.”

  Jugtah looked to ponder on his next words. “But milady, you saw what I could do in the broadcast ... when I resurrected the Dev servant after the hailstorm.”

  “I only saw the latter half, and even then, it wasn’t a reliable angle.” Her head tilted toward the ceiling, revealing the scabbed scars that ran across her neck, as she waved her hands to the side. “And who knows? Perhaps a bit of theatrics sold the trickery as miracles to the eyes of onlookers.”

  Titus glanced at the three caskets again, realizing what it was she had planned. He didn’t know anything about Jugtah’s abilities, but he doubted Jugtah was able to just bring someone back to life on a whim. This wouldn’t go as planned. Something was off.

  Jugtah echoed Titus’s worrisome thoughts when he muttered, “Milady, how old are these cadavers? What is it that you expect me to do?”

  The ice that coated her lips crackled and spread up her cheeks before wrapping around her eyes as she grinned somewhat maniacally. One by one, she pushed the lids off of each casket. “Trickery will do you no favors when in my direct line of sight. I know these to be dead bodies; they aren’t actors. Let’s see you weave miracles.”

  Titus gave an apprehensive glance toward Jugtah. The scientist gaped at the three corpses. They were well into the decomposition stages.

  “I cannot, milady—not with these. What I do requires weaving my Intel Energy in cohesion with the nervous system. These people are long gone. There is nothing for me to weave with inside of them.”

  Apoleia’s grin twisted into the foulest of scowls as Jugtah spoke. Titus almost wanted to clasp his hand over Jugtah’s mouth. Sure, the scientist was likely speaking truthfully, but Apoleia wouldn’t see it that way.

  Still, Jugtah continued. “With Vistas on the Diamond Sea, he had died just seconds before. There was still activity within his body. I could latch my Intel chains onto the currents of his nervous system, however measly they might have been in that state—at least, there had been something. These people are too long gone, milady.”

  Titus felt the temperature plummet, making it unbearable even for him, a native Stillian. Jugtah wouldn’t last longer than thirty minutes in the conditions Apoleia’s anger was presently creating. Body convulsing, Jugtah dropped to his knees, squeezing himself—a meaningless effort to contain his body heat.

  “This. Just. Will. Not. Do,” Apoleia said, speaking each word slowly and precisely as she approached the hapless Jugtah. She stood over him, the insane delight lighting up her blue eyes once again. She giggled. “I suppose we must find someone to kill.” Crouching next to Jugtah, she ran a finger across his cheek, a trail of ice forming in its wake. “Have you ever witnessed someone die right before your very eyes?”

  27

  Confines of Consciousness

  Archaic King Toth Brench sat on a substitute throne on the front steps of Phelos Palace. Even in winter, he baked underneath the Archaic Kingdom’s scorching sun. Surrounding him were his closest allies within the regime: Tazama, Vliyan NuForce, Jina and Halluci, Prince Sigmund, and Proxy Wert Lamay.

  One by one, citizens walked through the main gate and approached the bottom of the steps. Each offered words of encouragement or made requests for personal help from their king. It had become a matter of going through the motions for Toth. He didn’t really care for it, and as the days progressed, he became less patient with the whole charade. Too many matters of actual importance weighed down his mind. The location of Spy Pilot Ophala and the uncertainty of his son’s mental condition after learning about Jilly’s death were just two of the most pressing issues.

  He stared at the masses gathered outside the gate while one man knelt at the foot of the stairs, asking for forgiveness for a petty crime he had committed years ago. Toth had lost interest the moment the man first opened his mouth. Thankfully, Tazama tapped Toth’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Surprising news from Kadlest and Yama. We must cut this short.”

  * * *

  Toth, Tazama, Wert, Vliyan, and Sigmund filed into a windowless parlor deep in one of the palace’s interior sectors. These were the kinds of precautions necessary when a threat such as Ophala was at large. They couldn’t risk being anywhere close to a window.

  Toth grabbed a bottle of bourbon and poured himself a glass. “What’s going on, Tazama?”

  “Adren King Supido has been murdered by Toono, and the Adren Kingdom has been overtaken by Yama and Kadlest.”

  The room fell into a stunned silence. Toth slowly placed the bottle onto the counter, staring blankly at Tazama. Finally, he mustered up words. “Have we been dismissed from their plans? This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

  “This is great news,” Wert said. “Who cares if we knew about it beforehand or not?”

  “Honestly,” Sigmund said, “haven’t they always been mum unless the plans regarded us directly?”

  Wert nodded. “The boy is right. Especially Toono—that man has never spoken to any of us. What we hear about him comes from Storshae. Sometimes, I think he’s a figment of our imaginations.”

  Doubts buzzed through Toth’s mind. These statements were true. A lot had happened over the past few years that Toth had not been privy to—unless he had been personally involved. However, with the position he held now, he thought that he would have been kept in the loop—after all, he was important to this alliance ... wasn’t he?

  But that paled in comparison to his other doubts. What would happen if Toth’s regime found itself in trouble with the opposition? If True Light were successful in infiltrating Phelos through the secret teleplatforms, would the Dev, Cyn, Still, and Power Kingdoms rush to his aid? And if they did, would it be to protect Toth’s regime or simply the land? Something told him that they cared more about the latter, for Toth could be replaced. Perhaps they even preferred a replacement?

  “King Toth, are you in there?”

  Blinking a few times, Toth glanced at Vliyan, Rhyparia NuForce’s overweight, hunchbacked mother. He couldn’t vocalize his doubts—not around people like this. If Prince Sigmund had just heard Toth’s thought process, he would, once again, feel like he had made the wrong decision. And the last thing Toth wanted was to become Branian bait. He hadn’t forgotten Storshae’s w
arning: The prince has awoken his Branian; exercise caution.

  Toth straightened and tossed back his glass of bourbon before slamming the glass down. “I agree, Wert. And I’d normally say that such news requires celebration, but I’m afraid such a response would be premature. I have one worry with what might result from our acquisition of the Adren Kingdom.”

  Wert nodded. “If there was a time for True Light to make a move, it’d be now. They now only have three kingdoms against our six. They must be desperate.”

  Tazama hummed, then said, “Anyone else curious as to where the Jestivan are? How has this come so easily for our alliance?”

  “We know Himitsu and Horos are somewhere in Throno, along with two mystery guests, based off the recording we saw in the Archaic Museum,” Toth said as he made his way to an armchair and sat. “They wouldn’t be able to escape that city without us being alerted. We have some of Storshae’s Devish intelligence officers stationed all around the city. They’d record any disruptions. Thus, that we don’t have to worry about ... at least, not yet.

  “Rhyparia is long gone—that much is certain. And Yama is on our side.” Toth went silent. He had to be careful. Wert was still unaware of Jilly’s death. “As for the rest of them, I have no idea. However, I’m not too worried. I don’t believe they’re in our kingdom. Storshae said that he witnessed Bryson, Jilly, Toshik, Olivia, Vuilni, and other tag-alongs return to the Intel Kingdom through the teleplatforms. That would leave Lilu, Agnos, and Tashami. Based off what I’ve heard about Agnos, I am not worried about him in the slightest. I think it’s likely that Lilu is barred from leaving anywhere that her father considers safe. That leaves Tashami, and I don’t know much of anything about him.”

  Vliyan shook her head. “That’s an awful amount of assumptions.”

  Toth shrugged. “Well, we can’t do much with the unknown. We have to work with what we do know. Otherwise, we’ll drive ourselves crazy.” The difference in tone between Toth’s thoughts and spoken words were astounding. “As for Wert’s statement that True Light is desperate, we’ll address that immediately. If we can overcome their impending retaliation of losing the Adren Kingdom, then it’ll be time to celebrate.”