Rise of the Forgotten Sun

by Jon Monson

  The ship jolted sharply as it stopped at the docks, accompanied by calls and whistles as the crew rushed to secure the ship to the concrete pier with large ropes. Clutching Askari’s reins, he was anxious to walk the kerton down the plank. He fully realized how obvious he was with the giant lizard and was regretting the rash decision to bring him along.

  “Well, I wish you luck, My Prince,” Seb said. “I’d like to be among the first off this ship, and I understand you’ll want to be in the middle of the crowd.”

  “Good luck to you, my friend,” Aydiin replied, grasping the man’s hand. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “I hope so too,” Seb said, returning the handshake before muscling his way through the crowd.

  Aydiin resisted the urge to join the Margellan soldier. As attractive as the idea seemed, he knew that he couldn’t be the first passenger off the boat. He needed plenty of people around him in case there was someone waiting.

  Marriage wasn’t his only fear. There had, after all, been two attempts on his life right before leaving Maradon. There was no reason to expect that whoever was behind them had given up.

  The gangplank went down, hitting the concrete dock with a loud thump. Passengers began to file off the boat, less orderly than the crew would have liked. There were only a few dozen or so non-crewmembers on the Oosman, and they were more than eager to be back on dry land. Aydiin and Barrick found themselves in the middle of the small group getting off the ship, although he could tell Askari’s presence made more than one person rather uncomfortable.

  The plank bounded slightly with each step he took. Then his foot hit solid concrete.

  “Well, we’re officially in Genodra, mate,” Barrick whispered.

  “I’m officially in exile,” Aydiin whispered back. “Just try to keep your head down.”

  “Oh right, as if that gigantic lizard isn’t going to attract attention,” Barrick scoffed. “Besides, I think it’s your face that they’ll be looking after.”

  Ignoring his own advice, Aydiin looked up into the crowd, afraid of what he might find. Were there assassins lurking in the crowd? Was there really some overweight, bespectacled government official waiting to greet him?

  As his face rose, Aydiin was immediately transfixed by a pair of beautiful green eyes. Like two flawless emeralds, the eyes shone with a brilliance the likes of which he’d never even dreamt of.

  “Citizen Aydiin!” the eyes called out to him. They had the most melodic voice he’d ever heard. He was in trouble. Worse yet, the eyes seemed to recognize him and know his name.

  Look away, Aydiin thought, shaking his head to clear his mind. Yet he couldn’t, and as his vision began to focus, he found the eyes were set in a long face of soft, white skin. The face was framed by hair the color of a sunrise – not just a normal sunrise, but one of those breath-taking ones that only seem to happen in the spring.

  The face belonged to a woman wearing a fine green silk dress with long sleeves and a moderate neckline. The silk seemed to flow with the natural curves of her body, hinting immediately at what was underneath without flaunting it. He was definitely in trouble.

  Aydiin found himself staring, his mouth open slightly. The eyes were growing larger – no, they were drawing nearer.

  Run away, run away – the warning began repeating itself in his mind. If he wanted to escape with his freedom, he needed to look away and run as fast as possible.

  He could do it. He would just have to jump onto Askari’s back and flee. It wouldn’t be that hard. He just had to act.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He couldn’t bring his hands to do anything but grasp Askari’s reins. Worse, he definitely couldn’t get his legs to move.

  “I thought that was you,” said the eyes, growing brighter as the woman’s face burst into a smile. “You look just like the portrait that your father sent as a betrothal gift.”

  Aydiin both cursed and praised himself for his decision to stop wearing the mourning veil. It would have been useful in trying to escape even now that his Markings had disappeared. The eyes knew him. This was wonderful. This was a disaster.

  “I - yes. Yes, I am Aydiin,” he finally managed to stammer.

  Really, that’s all you can say? He cursed himself mentally. He’d always thought his ability to speak was a strength. That strength was apparently intent of abandoning him in his time of need.

  “Well, Aydiin, I am very pleased to meet you,” the eyes chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to hide their amusement. “I am Byanca of House Cavour, daughter of Marcino, Doge of the Most Serene Republic of Genodra. Welcome to Palmas.”

  She smiled again, exposing white straight teeth. The smile was genuine and it turned on a light behind her beautiful green eyes. A small amount of concern entered those green orbs as they turned to Askari.

  “Betchya weren’t expecting him, were yeh?” Barrick said, joining the conversation and gesturing to the large kerton. He flashed Aydiin a look that seemed to say their escape had been foiled. Aydiin had to agree. “I’m Barrick Fortescue, best friend of our dear Aydiin here. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I came along to make sure yer up to snuff.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet you Mr. Fortescue,” she curtsied before nodding her head at Askari. “I didn’t know you’d be bringing your kerton. There isn’t anyone here who can handle him, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, that’s alright,” Aydiin smiled, still slightly dazed. “He’s really not as vicious as he looks.”

  “Mate, are you forgetting that he ate a man just the other day?” Barrick said, reminding Aydiin of the well-coordinated attack on him in the marketplace. The memories snapped Aydiin back into a semblance of his normal self.

  “He’ll be fine running alongside the automobile,” Aydiin said, assuming there would be a motorized vehicle to take them to the palace. As he looked around the docks, there were very few horses. “And once we get to the palace, I can see to his well-being.”

  Get to the palace? He mentally screamed at himself. Not only was he not hopping onto Askari’s back to escape, he was now planning on entering an automobile with this woman and going to the Doge’s Palace. Something must be seriously wrong.

  Or maybe, just maybe, everything was wonderful.

  “Well then, I’m excited to hear about the latest gossip after the people see an image from their nightmares running through the city streets,” Byanca smiled. “The rumor mill has been dreadfully dull lately. It will be nice to add some spice to it.”

  “I would say that’s one of my favorite hobbies,” Barrick drawled, smiling at Byanca and even more at Aydiin, who had again lost himself in Byanca’s eyes. They did have a semi-magical effect. Perhaps there was a Goddess of Love, forgotten by history, who had left a single Stone for this woman to use.

  “Well then, shall we be off?” Byanca asked.

  “What?” Aydiin said, shaking himself again. “Oh, yes. I think that’s a marvelous idea. Please, lead the way.”

  Byanca led them away from the pier and towards an awaiting limousine. Aydiin nearly forgot about Byanca – Stones, he nearly forgot about everything - as he studied the beautiful beast.

  Automobiles were rare in Maradon, but they did exist. Nearly all were cheap, mass produced clunkers from the factories of Naerdon. His father hadn’t forbidden their import, but he had strongly discouraged local production. There were maybe a few dozen simple motor carriages roaming the streets of Maradon, but none of them compared to the work of art before him.

  It was obvious that this car was handcrafted by a master, made for comfort and prestige. The body was made from black painted steel, with a large motor dominating the front third of the machine. Fenders curved like a beautiful woman, accentuating white rubber tires in pristine condition. A chrome grill decorated the front, and the hood was ornamented by an outstretched eagle.

  The cabin sat four people quite comfortably, including the driver. Sliding into the back bench, Aydiin rub
bed his hands along the soft brown leather. Byanca – much to his delight and horror – slid in next to him. Barrick took a seat up front and turned around to face the two betrothed.

  “This is one spectacular machine yeh’ve got here,” he drawled before patting the chauffer on the back. “I almost envy you, my good sir.”

  The chauffer, a rather solemn looking gentleman with white hair hidden under a black hat that went perfectly with his suit, didn’t respond. Rather, he started the engine and began the drive through the congested city streets to the palace.

  “My father just commissioned it,” Byanca said, obviously feeling uncomfortable. This was a big day for her, and Aydiin could tell she had expected neither Barrick nor Askari.

  “Aydiin’s not really much used to such a fine automobile, are yeh?” Barrick smiled.

  “Well, not exactly,” Aydiin stammered. “My father – well, he’s not exactly progressive. He’ll see horses and carriages used until the day he dies, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, I can see that,” Byanca said. “Horses do have a rather quaint beauty to them. My father still keeps a stables with riding horses – it’s a hobby that’s still rather in vogue here in the city.”

  “I find that interesting,” Aydiin replied. “I would have thought the need for horses would be eliminated once motorized vehicles were fully implemented.”

  “Well, there isn’t really a need,” Byanca replied. “At least, not in the city. I think you’ll find very quickly that the aristocracy of Palmas focuses very little on necessity.”

  “Is there an aristocracy anywhere that does?” Aydiin laughed.

  “Didn’t you lot have a revolution about that?” Barrick drawled. “Aydiin always talks about it – the people having power or some such nonsense.”

  “Oh, the people still hold power,” Byanca said, ignoring Barrick’s jab at what were likely dearly-held democratic ideals. “They elect members of the Senate, who pass laws and govern. That doesn’t change the fact that there is still a small group who holds most of the wealth. It can’t really be avoided.”

  “It’s a basic principle of economics,” Aydiin said, looking at Barrick.

  “Haven’t you ever read a Treatise on the Economic Development of the Industrialized World?” Byanca asked Barrick.

  “What now?” Barrick asked, a blank look on his face. “Aydiin, I think this girl may be just what you’ve been looking for.”

  Aydiin found himself agreeing, although he didn’t want to say so aloud. One thing was for certain - he knew that running away was no longer an option.

  Chapter 12

  I think you need to shut up about her already, mate,” drawled Barrick as he lounged on a velvet sofa in Aydiin’s new apartments.

  His new quarters consisted of three rooms – a sitting room, study, and bedroom, complete with a bathroom outfitted with indoor plumbing. Dark hardwood floors were adorned by plush, hand-woven rugs. Oil paintings of various landscapes graced the papered walls. Overall, the rooms felt much too luxurious for Aydiin, but he wasn’t about to complain.

  A separate bedroom had been prepared for Barrick, although he hadn’t left Aydiin’s side since they’d arrived at the Doge’s Palace. He seemed to think the Prince was out of his mind. Aydiin couldn’t necessarily argue that point.

  “I know, I know,” Aydiin said absent mindedly, “but have you seen her eyes? Green as emeralds! And her hair, it’s like a sunset! Or maybe a sunrise – I still can’t decide.”

  “Yes, you’ve said that a dozen times or so. Look mate, she’s not that beautiful. I’ve seen you practically run away screaming from prettier girls back in Maradon.”

  “Those girls were different. Byanca isn’t just beautiful. You were in the limousine with us. She’s the first woman I’ve met who has substance. She’s well-read, she’s capable of deep thought, and her eyes! Did I mention her eyes?”

  “Yeah, once or twice,” Barrick rolled his eyes before getting up to pour himself another drink before stopping mid-stride. “And what are you doing? Is that a comb in your hand?”

  Aydiin smiled sheepishly as he stood in front of the mirror with an ornate ivory comb, his hand stopped mid-stroke. Aydiin never combed his hair. There was so little time in a day, and he never really felt that taming his wild curls should make the to-do list

  “Well, we have a dinner in five minutes. I just thought that maybe I should look my best,” Aydiin replied, turning away from Barrick so his friend couldn’t see the rosiness rising in his cheeks.

  “And are those your dress robes?” Barrick asked, pointing to Aydiin’s clothing.

  He looked down at himself. His robes were of fine silk, some of the most expensive he owned. They’d been stuffed into his duffel bag and definitely looked less than pristine.

  “They’re the best I have,” Aydiin said.

  “They look like you stuffed them into a tin can for a year,” Barrick laughed.

  “I haven’t had time to get them pressed,” Aydiin replied. “Besides, it’s not like I can wear my other set of robes. They have your stench clinging to them.”

  “Mate, you’re not going through with this are you? Remember why we actually came. She’s definitely prettier than anyone you’re likely to meet at that old monastery, but the Aydiin I know would much rather be riding Askari through the Genodran countryside in search of answers.”

  “Barrick, a prince of Salatia can’t remain in bachelorhood forever.”

  “Why not? You seemed to do a good job of it back home,” Barrick asked.

  “I avoided it with such vigor in Maradon because the thought of spending my life with any girl I had met seemed worse than dying.”

  “And it’s somehow different with this lass?” Barrick asked.

  “There is definitely something about her,” Aydiin said. “I at least need to take some time to get to know her. We eventually need to go to the monastery – I won’t fight you on that - but I want to see what happens. The Markings have gone away, and maybe whoever was trying to kill me won’t have followed me to Palmas.”

  Before Barrick could answer, a knock sounded at the door. Aydiin answered to see a tall, balding man in palace livery. The man’s white shirt was perfectly pressed underneath a navy-blue jacket. An intricately folded handkerchief poked out of the breast pocket.

  “Excuse me, My Lord,” the servant droned, his voice somehow completely matching his impeccable appearance. He gave a deep bow before continuing. “I have been instructed to accompany you to the Great Hall.”

  “Yes, thank you very much,” Aydiin stammered, dashing back to the mirror to run the comb through his hair. It was still unruly, but now wasn’t the time to suddenly grow self-conscious about his appearance.

  “Good luck, mate,” Barrick said. “I think I’ll take the evening to explore the city a bit.”

  “You’re not coming?” Aydiin asked, suddenly growing nervous.

  “I told yeh I’m not much one for parties,” Barrick said, rising to his feet. “Especially when there’s an entire city’s worth of taverns to be kicked out of.”

  With that, Barrick slipped past the servant – the man seemed more than happy to let Barrick pass – and into the hallway. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, growing quieter as Aydiin realized he would be on his own for dinner. He gulped at the thought.

  “Please sir, I believe His Excellency is waiting,” the servant again droned, pulling Aydiin from his stupor.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, Aydiin hurried to follow the butler. The man walked a few steps ahead, his posture perfect and his gait confident. He seemed to blend in with the stately palace as if he truly belonged there.

  Aydiin was struck by the beauty of the Doge’s home. The hallway’s polished marble floors were softened by a plush red carpet running down the middle of the corridor. His footsteps were nearly silent on the thick wool. The wood-paneled walls were accented by the occasional painting, each one with the look of a priceless masterpiece.

  Servants b
ustled through the corridor, always giving way and bowing slightly as they approached Aydiin. They certainly seemed as polite and respectful as the servants in his father’s palace, yet there was something different, something better.

  They were happy.

  He could tell by the bounce in their steps, the way they seemed eager to perform their tasks. The smiles seemed genuine, their respect earned and not forced. This was the way to run a household.

  A young maid in a black dress and white apron walked past him, a pile of folded towels obscuring her view. She hummed a pretty little tune as she entered one of the bathrooms.

  An aging gentleman walked the halls with a duster, cleaning the tops of doorways and paintings. He did such a menial task with purpose. He did it as if he felt important, and by extension, the task was as well.

  “The Great Hall is the oldest part of the Palace,” the servant leading Aydiin finally spoke as they reached the end of the hallway. “Its architecture is of the gothic tradition, while most of the palace is much more modern. Doge Marcino is quite proud of his home, and I’m sure you’ll learn even more of its history throughout the evening.”

  “Thank you,” Aydiin said, not really knowing how to respond to that. As they kept walking, the corridor opened up into a massive chamber, and Aydiin had to keep himself from gasping.

  The Great Hall was much larger than the any room in his father’s palace. In fact, he felt confident that a majority of the palace could fit in the room. He wanted to shout, just to hear his echo, but restrained himself.

  The vaulted ceiling was at least five stories tall, and monolithic granite columns lined the room. Near the top, stained glass windows let the rays of the setting sun filter in, adding a warm glow to the grey stone. The tall ceiling and windows drew his eyes upwards.

  In the middle of the Hall, an oak table capable of hosting an elaborate feast sat empty. The wood was polished to a sheen, yet not a single plate graced its top. The chairs were tucked in, obviously not expecting any guests this evening.