by B. A. Scott
“Divided? How?” Dareic asked.
“We’re on the brink of civil war,” Fahren told him. “Lord Embros has dictated a fate so heinous in the eyes of some, they’ve questioned his very competence as our King.”
“What fate?” Dareic probed.
“Our King is in dealings with Daro.”
“To ally with him?!” Dareic gasped.
“That explains the red beacons,” said Vega.
“Embros has consented to support Lord Daro’s revolution, in exchange for amnesty.”
“Amnesty?” Dareic asked.
“That Kallenshar not be harmed. That, in alliance, its people be spared his vengeance.”
“That’s insane,” Vega spoke.
“Embros believes the union will ensure our safety," Fahren said, nodding. “But there are those who feel his motives are sewn from seeds of cowardice. That we would become a nation of slaves. Their protests grow more heated every day. Even the army is divided. Thankfully, blood has not yet been spilled in Kallenshar, but I fear it’s only a matter of time.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Dareic asked. “And what does any of this have to do with you saving our hides just now? Why are you not taking us off to the dungeons, like you said you would at the dock? Why—”
“Because I know in my heart that Lord Embros is wrong,” the Sage interrupted. “And I believe you can help me.”
“How?” asked Dareic.
“You must ask him to unite with your people against Daro. Beg, even, if you must. Convince him the world stands a chance, if united.”
“Why do you think we came here in the first place?” Treäbu said heatedly.
“I presumed as much,” said Fahren. “We’ve heard word of Caladen ambassadors already seeking alliance with the Erygians of Allestron.”
“Those were my brothers,” Dareic told him proudly.
“And now you’ve come to Kallenshar, hoping we’ll join as well,” said the Sage. “But know this, ambassador. Lord Embros will not easily break his agreement with Daro. And he would rather die than unite with the rest of the world—a sentiment shared by many in Kallenshar. Most Incinians have felt that way since the War of Ages. I, myself, never though that one day, I’d even consider an alliance with the likes of—” he paused, “but the protesters are right. Joining with Daro would turn every last one of us into slaves! And that’s worse a fate than anything I can possibly imagine—even allying with our enemies. Even death. But Embros doesn’t see it that way.”
“Well, haven’t you any say in the matter?” asked Dareic. “I mean, you’re a Sage, for heaven’s sake!”
“Ultimately, what course of action we take is decided upon by the King. I’ve spoken with him, and expressed my concerns, but I cannot sway his mind on the matter.”
“Then dethrone him!” Dareic said. “Take control of Kallenshar for yourself, and break off whatever deals he made with Daro!”
“That, I cannot do,” said the Sage.
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated,” said Fahren. “Lord Embros is my father. Look, I’ve a part to play in all this you couldn’t possibly understand. As the Sage of my people, I’m a beacon of wisdom and power, a symbol of the strength of our nation, and an example to be followed. Yet in light of these recent events, I’ve been forced to lead a double life. Though I oppose Embros’s decision, I’ve done everything in my power to remain in his trust, preaching values of allegiance and honor to our citizens. Yet at the same time, I’ve been secretly supporting those who stand against him. In doing so, I’ve already cracked the very foundations of our great nation.
I’ve asked myself many, many times, should I openly challenge the rule of Lord Embros and watch Kallenshar crumble under the weight of civil war? Or do I preserve what we have left, and hope for a future where the Incinians still stand united with one another, despite the ravaged world around us?
I’ve become torn between loyalties, ambassador. Between facades. And all the while, I strive to keep what power and influence I hold by leading this life of secrets and lies. Oftentimes, I must do things to hide my true intentions—to keep up appearances. Things,” he looked to Vexen, “that cast a poor reflection on my character.”
Vexen scoffed at him, and looked away.
“Well, if what happened at the fire gates didn’t make it clear enough,” Dareic said, “you have my word, I’ll do everything I can to convince Lord Embros to join our cause.”
“He is proud and unwavering,” said Fahren. “But defiant as he is, I’m hoping he’ll consider your proposal a promising alternative to joining Daro, though be it a lesser of evils.”
“A lesser of evils?” asked Dareic.
“Let me be clear. I take no pleasure in seeking union with your kind,” said Fahren. “It is merely a means to an end—to keep my people from a future wrought with bondage and servitude.”
“Right,” said Dareic. “So, what’s the plan? For the moment, our lives seem to be in your hands.”
“They most certainly are,” said the Sage. “We must proceed delicately. Even welcomed guests don’t just walk into Kallenshar and speak with the King. With my help, however,” he nodded to one of his guards, who handed him a bundle of folded cloaks, “you might have a chance. Put these on.”
Fahren handed Dareic, Treäbu, Vexen and Xado a cloak each, then stopped upon reaching Vega. “I haven’t one that will conceal you,” he told the Aerolus. “You’ll draw attention to us. But perhaps that will work to our advantage.”
“Excuse me,” Xado drew Fahren’s attention. “I’m not with these tosspots. I wish to have no part in their business.”
“Well, you can’t stay here,” said Fahren. “Best you stick close to me, then, and keep your head down.”
Xado conceded with a snarl. “What will happen to my ship?” he asked.
“A recovery crew will have been sent to tow it to port,” said Fahren. “It will be repaired in the coming weeks, but that vessel is no longer your property, Captain.”
Dareic finished donning his cloak, then regarded the wide, dark bracelet on his wrist. “Fahren, what are these—you gave us at the docks?”
“Breathing bracelets,” said Fahren. “We have many defenses to keep outsiders at bay. Before the city walls, we’ll have to pass through an area of concentrated gases, harnessed and channeled from deep within the mountain. We can breathe it, you can’t. These bracelets will allow you to manage easily through it all.”
“And might we have our weapons and effects back?” Dareic asked.
“In due time,” said Fahren. “I don’t yet know if I can trust you with them. I don’t even know your names. So, if it’s not too late for introductions, my name is Fahren. And yours is… Caladen?”
“Dareic Caladen,” said Dareic.
“And your companions?” Fahren asked, looking first to Treäbu.
“Treäbu Skael’adar,” Treäbu spoke coldly, without a hand-hearting.
“Vega, of the Valean Aeroli,” said Vega.
“Well aren’t the Valean all that’s left of the Aeroli?” asked Fahren. “Why not just ’Vega?’”
“Just ‘Vega,’ then,” said the Aerolus.
Xado hesitated, then quietly muttered, “‘Captain’ will do.”
“And you?” Fahren asked, looking to Vexen.
“Vexen,” she told him.
“I must know, my darkened dearie,” said the Sage, “on account of my own blasted curiosity, tell me, which race of Adoran do you call your own? I’ve tried to place it since I first set eyes on you, but, well, let’s just say I’m having a bit of a hard time with that. You’re quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
Vexen stared at Fahren obstinately, refusing to reveal any details of her heritage.
“Not in the talking mood?” Fahren asked. “Not at all? Well, that does disappoint me. I suppose my suspicions will have to run rampant for a while longer. Anyway, now that we’re all acquainted, let’s get a move on. I’ll lead the wa
y. Vega, walk alongside me. You’re now, officially, a messenger with news of Lord Daro. The rest of you, keep your hoods up, and walk betwixt my guards. Treäbu, your tail’s peeking a bit there, so stay between your friends, and try your hardest not to get excited—else that thing will wag, and give you away. As for those who walk behind him, try not to step on the damned thing. Let’s hope we can conceal your appearances until we reach the throne room. It’s a long walk, but I think most eyes will be on Vega, here.”
Fahren paused, and looked to Dareic. “We will only get one chance at this,” he warned.
“I know,” said Dareic. “Off to the King, then?”
Fahren nodded, then spoke, “Follow me.”
Chapter 15: Into the Fire
Fahren exited the chamber and mounted his emberwolf. The others filed out, each hooded, save for Vega. The Sage led them from the building, out into the open air, to a busy road that wound its way to the city gates. His guards flanked Dareic and the others behind him, creating a wall of black cloaks to conceal the unwelcomed guests.
As Dareic walked briskly amongst his protectors, he caught glimpses of the Incinians he passed. Their clothing was dark and minimal. A material resembling silk accompanied elements of shiny black metal, and most wore boots up to their knees. Dareic also noticed that the farther he traveled up the mountain, the more the temperature around him increased substantially. Soon enough, sweat dripped down his face. He wanted to see if his companions were indeed as affected as he was, but he kept his focus on the path before him, not wishing to chance his face being seen by any he passed.
When the city gates were near, Dareic’s ascent grew steep. And as if he’d suddenly walked into an invisible fog, the air around him thickened. It tickled his throat at first, then caused an instant of lightheadedness that nearly made him trip over his own feet. He choked, and could not help but suppress a gag. But before the crippling sensation could worsen, he felt the subtlest of vibrations upon his wrist. He looked to his hand as secretly as he could beneath his cloak, and observed the breathing bracelet. The symbols upon it glowed orange, and Dareic’s breath grew easy once more. Oh, that’s better, he thought.
The city gates opened as Fahren approached them—great, black metal doors, dinged, dented and scraped, giving evidence of their history. Once inside the walls, Dareic caught sight of his breathing bracelet once more. The symbols upon it lost their glow. Then, he brought his gaze upward, and could not help but marvel at his surroundings. The city of Kallenshar traveled up the mountain in levels. Nearly every building looked to be fashioned from shiny obsidian, and utilized steep, flat, angular architecture. Not a smooth curve or dome met Dareic’s eyes. Torches blazed with orange light throughout the city, and waterfalls of lava poured into finely crafted trenches and channels, which formed an intricate design upon the black, stone-laid ground, giving the realm an ambience that was both soothing and brooding. There were even pools and fountains of lava, Dareic noticed, and Incinians that walked knee-deep in them, as if they were merely wading through water.
With every step, the heat increased. It didn’t take long for Dareic’s entire body to become drenched in sweat. Fahren led he and the others to the highest part of the city, straight to the King’s palace, having not spoken a single word the entire way. Luckily, the Sage had been correct in his assumption that Vega would garner enough attention to help the others pass through Kallenshar unnoticed. The Incinians who stood in Fahren’s path immediately parted for him. They naturally assumed, with what haste he moved and the seriousness of his expression, that the Sage had important business to attend to with the Aerolus, and hadn’t the time to justify Vega’s presence to everyone he passed.
When at last they reached the palace, the group passed nervously between a great number of Incinian soldiers. At the entrance, six guards stood resolutely, three beside each door. Between them stood a well-endowed Incinian woman, finely dressed, with a sword at her hip.
“Sahna,” Fahren greeted her as he dismounted his emberwolf, and scratched it behind the ear. “I’m taking this Aerolus to see Lord Embros.” Without question, the woman nodded, and ordered the palace doors opened.
That was easy, Dareic thought. The Incinian woman led Fahren and the others through the entrance. They wound their way down a series of passageways to a pair of grand doors, guarded by two soldiers. Another woman, dressed similarly as Sahna, stood between them.
“Fahren Sage wishes to speak with his Excellency,” Sahna told her. The guards bowed, and opened the doors.
Geez, what authority this guy has, Dareic thought to himself. No one questions him. No one stands in his way. I wish people treated me like that. But no. I get punched in the face. Kicked in the face. Burned. Shot at. Shackled. Threatened with spears. And blasted into a sea of sharks.
Sahna and the other Incinian woman remained outside, while Fahren and the others entered the throne room. It was the largest room Dareic had ever seen. Fifty paces from the door, a giant black throne with a high back rose from the shiny obsidian tile, and upon it sat Lord Embros. Another twenty paces behind him, a tall waterfall of lava poured slowly into a trench that ran along the room’s perimeter. A number of other lavafalls, shorter and thinner than the grandest behind the throne, fell into the trench from the side walls. Between each, a single Incinian guard stood, armed with a long spear.
By his surroundings alone, Dareic felt immediately intimidated. When he looked again to Lord Embros, he felt smaller than he’d ever felt in his entire life—like a poor beggar boy asking a high lord for a scrap of bread.
Embros sat proudly and statuesque, his posture the very embodiment of self-assuredness. He wore a high-collared coat, accented by armor upon his shoulders. A black cape hung behind him, and massive gloves covered his hands. His hair was longer than Fahren’s, slicked back, and his intricately shaped facial hair came to a point just past his chin. Where a Human’s hair might have gone gray with age, Embros’s had turned the color of fire. Dareic took in the details of his appearance quickly, but remained fixated on Embros’s head, which bore a dark, coarse, band-like crown that burned with soft, simmering flames of red and orange.
“Treäbu,” Vexen whispered as they neared the King.
“What?” Treäbu asked.
“We never expected Embros to be in league with my father,” Vexen told him. “If he finds out who I am, he could turn me over to him. I know I was meant to help you, but this changes everything.”
“You’re right,” Treäbu agreed. “But we can’t exactly turn back now, can we? Just keep your head down.”
“What are you two babbling about?!” Dareic asked them, just as Fahren stopped the group ten paces before Lord Embros. Before Treäbu or Vexen could answer, Fahren addressed the King.
“My Lord,” he said. “I bring you more visitors,”
“Other than this Aerolus?” asked Embros, turning his gaze from Vega to the hooded figures behind the Sage.
“Yes, Sire,” Fahren said.
“Then let them show their faces,” spoke the King.
Fahren looked back, nodding to Dareic and the others. Dareic and Treäbu removed their hoods and stepped forward, next to Vega. Vexen and Xado remained behind, wishing to keep their identities concealed.
“I’m disappointed in you, Fahren,” Embros said, upon seeing Dareic and Treäbu. “Most disappointed.”
“These are ambassadors, my Lord, that claim to have come to Kallenshar in good faith.”
“In good faith of what?” asked the King. “That despite showing utter disdain for our wishes, we should welcome them? They must learn, Fahren, that exceptions are not made—not even for ambassadors.”
As Embros’s emotions rose, Dareic noticed the flames upon his crown surge comparably, growing in size with the King’s heated demeanor.
“The nature of their arrival was unfortunately unpleasant, yes,” Fahren said, agreeing with Embros, “but you must hear what they’ve come to say. Believe me, I would not have brought them oth
erwise.”
“So, you vouch for their presence here, do you? Let it be known by your own confession, here and now!”
The Sage paused. “I do not vouch,” he said boldly. “They’re an abhorrent thorn to us all. And their presence here is most unnerving. But I am not so ignorant as to turn a deaf ear to those who would risk death just to speak.”
The King and the Sage glared into each other’s eyes, as if a battle of wills was being fought between them.
“Then let them speak quickly,” said Embros, sternly. “When they are finished, Fahren, you will escort them from this hall at once, and exact upon them their due punishment. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my Lord,” Fahren uttered in a half-defeated tone. He then stepped aside for Dareic, Treäbu and Vega.
“Lord Embros,” Dareic’s voice was shaky, and sweat dripped from every pore of his body. “I am Dareic Caladen, descendant of Genus Caladen. I’m here on behalf of my people to seek an alliance with the Incinians of Kallenshar.” He got right to the point, fearing he might not get another chance to speak. “I know there’s not much I can say to convince you, but the greatest Human city has already fallen to Lord Daro. Without uniting against him, other cities—other nations, even yours—may suffer the same fate.”
Embros smiled evilly. “So, the strain of Caladen holds true to its purpose even now, does it? Here you stand, bold as ever the blood that runs through your veins. Yet equally as vain in your efforts as those of your ancestors. Lord Daro has indeed begun his invasion of Adoran. But he has attacked those who have malcontent for our kind. For centuries, the other nations have scorned us. Called us liars and thieves. And now they ask for our help? You are bold, young Caladen, to propose such a union. But the Incinians have to do what is in their best interest.”
“And what is that?” Vega asked.
“Choose our alliances wisely,” said Embros.