The Promised Ones

by Brad Stucki

  With a muffled curse Saballa moved forward, drawing his dagger.

  “You will hold, Saballa! Your time will come later. First we have matters of more import to discuss.” Saballa stopped, and turned a slight bow to Tranthra’ Joh, then a menacing look at Javin.

  Javin smiled back and inclined his head as if to say any time you want, then turned his attention back to the Princess. She was under control standing with complete confidence, as though she were still the one in charge.

  “What is the meaning of this? Why do you sit upon the throne and take me, your queen, as prisoner?”

  “That’s what you’re here to discuss.” Tranthra’ Joh answered. “You’re not Queen yet, princess, and I am still Conservator. When you ‘abandoned’ your people, I had no choice but to take control until such time as you could be found and brought to your senses.”

  Mouhra’ Lah dropped her mouth open in surprise. “So that’s how you’re playing it. I thought you’d twist everything around to your advantage. At least I’m not disappointed in how low you would stoop.”

  Tranthra’ Joh laughed; “Fiery as ever. I like that it a mate.” He paused and looked down at the princess. “And mate you’ll be. The people would easily accept it, and you would be queen . . .”

  “In name only, is that it?” the princess pressed. “A figurehead to rule, but we both know where you intend the real power to lie.”

  “You’re not stupid. And you are right. What do you say?”

  “Such a romantic proposal,” the princess said, her voice bland. “No!” The last came like a crack that echoed across the tall ceilinged chamber.

  Unmoved, Tranthra’ Joh sat on the throne chuckling, “Just as I’d expected. There are ways to make you reconsider, you know.”

  As the princess and Tranthra’ Joh had been speaking, Javin was paying half attention to the words. There was something else he was sensing on a deeper level; something in the atmosphere of this place, about Tranthra’ Joh and what he was doing. Something was vaguely familiar. Not with the people, but in its influence.

  Then it hit him. Tranthra’ Joh was not the real power. There was someone else here. Someone more powerful, more sinister than even Tranthra’ Joh on his own.

  Deep in his breast a warmth began to surge, a smouldering fire building, spreading outward, warming his limbs, tingling and growing, as his vision began to fade to sheer white . . .

  He was standing in front of a rostrum where a man was sitting on a throne staring down at him. Surrounding them was a dense jungle, warm, moist, clammy. He was standing in the center of a clearing, bound.

  The man on the throne leaned forward, elbow on his knee, glaring with anger at Javin. He looked surprisingly familiar. Though he’d never seen him before, Javin knew him. Then he realized it was because this man was a mirror image of him! Save for the dark beard where Javin never liked growing one, and the cool rage in the eyes that flashed intense hatred, they could have been identical twins.

  A captive! This wasn’t a memory, though. A future vision? He didn’t know. Then he knew why he was having the vision . . . And the light began to fade.

  Javin was back in the audience chamber. The princess and Tranthra’ Joh were still arguing. The princess was demanding her freedom, the release of all prisoners, and Tranthra’ Joh to submit himself for arrest. Tranthra’ Joh ignored her and again threatened her with the lives of the nobles if she didn’t consent to marriage. Javin hadn’t heard the conversation yet knew what they’d said as if he’d listened with rapt attention. He didn’t know how he did it. One more mystery to solve, he thought. Now, time to end this farce.

  “Nemesis!” he shouted. He just knew what name to use.

  Tranthra’ Joh stopped mid sentence and glared at Javin, mouth open, eyes wide. Silence reigned as the last echoes of his shout died in the hall.

  “Take her to the tower!” Tranthra’ Joh gestured for the guards. “And him to the dungeon.” His guards came close, the one drawing the dagger again, holding it to his neck.

  Must have struck a chord, Javin thought as he was turned about.

  Tranthra’ Joh was already off the dais moving behind to what Javin was sure was a special room. He craned his neck, carefully, and smiled at the princess as she was hustled out behind.

  “See you soon,” he called cheerfully.

  “Until then,” the princess called back, a wry grin crossing her own face. “You know how to stir things up.”

  “I do my best.” They were turned in opposite directions as they exited the chamber and couldn’t speak any longer.

  ***

  "You heard, Master?" Tranthra' Joh lifted his eyes from where he'd bowed his head to the floor. The man seated on the ornate raised chair nodded. The odd black opaqueness that seemed to swirl within his breast moved faster. He wore a black silk open breasted tunic with the sign of the Sun made of precious jewels on his right breast. Tranthra' Joh was still puzzled over what it meant. It was the same sign as on his breast, and on the uniforms of his hand-picked men.

  "I heard." The voice was low, sullen. "He has come after me. I thought I was done with him. Somehow his Guardians saved him. I'd thought the prophet was confusing his actual presence with his dreams when I saw the images. I guess not. He’s here."

  At the word, Guardian Tranthra' Joh, blanched. He knew the legends. And this man, the man who'd promised him kingdoms and power, acted as if he had intimate knowledge of the Guardians. Were they real, then?

  "What of your meeting with the princess?"

  Tranthra' Joh was startled. If he'd heard the other, then hadn't he heard his conversation with the princess? He'd been amazed by Nemesis’ uncanny abilities, though they were different than what he supposed they should be. They were sporadic. He didn’t know what to make of it.

  Mentally shaking himself, for it didn't do to keep Nemesis waiting, he quickly explained that the princess was proving stubborn. "She's now in the tower. The other I've had taken to the dungeons. What should we do with him?”

  “This time I’ll not fail.” Nemesis said to himself. “We’ll use him to help persuade the princess. If Javin was captured with her, then he’ll serve as leverage. When you bring out the prince, bring Javin out also. Start by putting Javin to death in front of her, then she'll be more certain we mean what we say when we threaten her betrothed.” Nemesis hesitated, leaning forward in his chair. “You will make sure he dies.”

  Tranthra’ Joh bowed his head again to the floor. “Yes, Master.” There was no doubt he referred to the other like him. How did he know the stranger’s name? It was never spoken in the chamber. And why do they look so much alike? Are they brothers? Tranthra’ Joh didn’t dare ask.

  He stood, waiting to be dismissed. Nemesis looked preoccupied, his eyes staring down at his feet, chin resting on his curled fist. The blackness continued to swirl at his breast with brief flashes of red and orange.

  "The rest of the Pontu’ Gi should be in place now," Nemesis said. "Your man, he's to be trusted?"

  Tranthra' Joh nodded. "Yes, Master. My most trusted, next to Saballa."

  Nemesis nodded. "As soon as everything is in readiness, we'll have this planet under our rule."

  Tranthra' Joh listened carefully. It seemed Nemesis was talking about someone other than him. But he had been promised the rule. Did Nemesis mean him? He must. Still, part of him didn't think so. He’d also used that word again: Planet. It must mean the country; the whole of the country including all the people.

  "Wait a few days. Let her stew then bring the princess down for the next conversation. The sooner we dispose of Javin, the better. I just wish . . ." Nemesis hesitated, glancing at Tranthra' Joh. "Follow my instructions. All will work out as planned. You will have your reward."

  Tranthra' Joh bowed low, then turned heel and left. I must watch closely. Nemesis is powerful. So far, he's proven all his words and kept his promises, but I must watch.

  Chapter 10

  Sohorkon’ Bho stared at his wondrous city
rising up the sides of a broad mount, the highest point in the countryside.

  Sunzah’ Nu Geeza; it meant Heart of the Forest. His heart filled with pride.

  From the outer wall at the base of the mount the buildings of the city rose here and there in cascading towers and structures, some domed, others pointed, all made of the almost white colored rock the mount was composed of. It looked as if the city was carved from the mountain itself.

  Just outside the defensive wall the city was ringed by a broad watercourse, preventing any approach to the city save for the two roads on either side. The waterway was wide enough that it would take several minutes for a boat to make it across. The walls of the city rose directly from the water, preventing any ground on which an enemy could gain a foothold.

  Outside that was a broad manicured sward clearing the jungle almost to where they stood.

  Wide avenues circled the city connected with steep streets all running straight from the lowest avenue through to the top. Higher up, banners and house sigils flew from rooftops and spires, carrying the eye straight to the grandeur of the palace at the crest overlooking everything. The palace was the center of the city, its spires rising up to kiss the mist, brightly plumed pennants flitting in the breeze.

  The sight of it always took his breath away, but today he had little time to relish the view. He had to get inside the city and get help.

  There were only two entrances -- each accessed by narrow roads built across the waterway to tall gates built into the thick wall on either side of the city. At least those were the only known entrances.

  There were others. Sohorkon couldn't talk of them. He trusted Siri, but if something were to happen he couldn't guarantee the secret ways would not be divulged. It could mean life and death to his father and brother – if he were found and rescued.

  Why am I thinking like that? Sohorkon thought. There shouldn’t be any reason why our family should be at risk here. He squinted his eyes and looked closer, trying to understand his feelings of disquiet.

  His father was inside the city now, reigning as King. His mother had passed on when he was but a cub, barely able to remember. Father had never remarried. His brother was first born; Crown Prince, yet there was no envy. Sohorkon knew his place -- and loved it. He had no desire to rule. What he loved was travel, seeing new sights, new people, exploring. He loved the service, the arms, the discipline, and the purpose of being with the guard.

  And yet he'd failed to protect the Prince. He needed to report then lead out in rescue . . . or revenge.

  He cut that thought off quickly, taking his mind back to his first priority: to get inside and report. Why was he hesitating?

  There was something different about the city. It wasn’t something he saw as much as how he felt. Guards walked the walls as usual. Tower watches were posted and alert. The bright light of day was crisp and the temperature just right. Still the feeling persisted.

  Perhaps it was his intense connection to the city, the ebb, flow, the personality and flavor of it. Perhaps it was something different even than that. It was deeper; telling all was not as it seemed.

  He dropped the foliage back into place and moved further back out of sight, helping Siri gingerly sit with her back against the thick bole of a towering tree and settled down beside her.

  "What’s wrong?" Siri gingerly turned to look at him closely.

  "I . . ." Sohorkon paused, trying to find words to describe his feelings. "It looks right to appearances."

  "But?" Siri prodded.

  Sohorkon smiled. "You are too observant."

  "That's what a Keeper is supposed to do. Observe and record those of royal blood." She hesitated a moment. "There is something wrong."

  "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

  "What should we do?" she asked.

  "First, we need to get you to a physician, so your wound can be properly dressed."

  "I think you've done fine." She flashed him a smile. "A fresh bandage would be nice, though."

  "Maybe it's the jitters with everything else that's gone on."

  "And maybe it's not," Siri said. "I've learned it's usually best to follow your instinct."

  "Well, my instinct isn't telling me what to do." He fell silent, thinking. Should he go through one of the secret tunnels, and thus reveal it to Siri? If there were trouble, it would be best if he just not appear inside the walls of the city. That would tip the fact of hidden ways. If caught either he or Siri could be forced to tell.

  Pain, applied long enough, would surely break Siri, if not him. And maybe they'd need it to escape.

  Why do I feel so unsettled about coming home? I should be relieved. What am I feeling? Why am I feeling it?

  He reached down and extracted a claw, drawing designs in the moldy sod of the jungle floor. Siri sat beside him, waiting.

  "I think a direct assault is called for, don't you?"

  "What?" Siri asked.

  "I mean just walk right up to the front door and knock." He smiled.

  "What about your misgivings?"

  "Can't do anything about them that I can think of. It's either go in and find out for ourselves -- and I hope I look really foolish for being worried -- or wait outside and stew about it. The latter doesn't seem too productive, especially when you consider that my brother . . . and the princess are counting on us."

  "You've convinced me," Siri said. "I'm not used to all this. I'm a historian you know."

  Sohorkon smiled but didn't answer.

  "A frontal assault it is then."

  Sohorkon stood and held out a hand to help Siri to her feet. He knew she was in a great deal of pain. The wound was severe and far from attended properly. She didn't complain as they made their way out of the jungle to the wide path leading to the main water crossing.

  As soon as they stepped out into the open Sohorkon knew they'd be spotted. Word should quickly be passed through the ranks. He knew they’d not recognized him from this distance, but the closer they approached they soon would. Word that he was returning alone would surely raise an alarm and a message would be sent to his father. The news would surely prompt his father to come meet him at the gate.

  He hoped his father would be there, anyway. He didn't know what he'd tell anyone else. He couldn't tell anyone else. It concerned the Crown Prince.

  They hadn't gone too far when he noticed the city gates opening and a file of guards coming out. Sohorkon and Siri stopped and waited. There was nothing worse than bad news, and he didn't want to make the soldiers any more nervous than they already would be, knowing it was him -- without Sauros.

  Sohorkon watched as they approached. He wanted to see if he recognized anyone. There were quite a few officers attached to the city defenses that he knew, but not all.

  Sure enough, the commander was a friend. Good. It’d be easier to pass through and get to the real business.

  "Greetings, Cahl' Dho," Sohorkon held his right fist against his breast in salute to an equal, as indeed they held equal rank.

  "Well met, Sohorkon' Bho." Cahl' Dho returned the salute.

  "Not so well, I'm afraid," Sohorkon said. "I must be conveyed inside the city and speak with my father right away.

  Cahl' Dho nodded then glanced at Siri.

  "She's okay," Sohorkon said. "She's the Keeper in Putra' Fi Sorro. I need her to testify."

  Cahl's eyes widened at her title then inclined his head in a combination bow, and acknowledgment.

  "We must hurry," Sohorkon pressed. "And Siri has been injured. Please summon the doctors as we meet with father."

  Again Cahl' Dho nodded. "Follow me, my Prince." He hesitated just a moment before turning, as if he wanted to say something to Sohorkon then thought better of it. "I will escort you inside. From there the Captian-of-the-Wall will arrange for your meeting."

  This is different, Sohorkon’s heart clenched. Normally, it wouldn't have been a problem for him to get right in to see his father. The Captain-of-the-Wall would never have to be bothered. His
passing through would have been logged in only. His chain of command bypassed the Captain-of-the-Wall. Cahl' Dho knew that. Had something happened in the city to change that?

  With his arm around Siri' Bhu for support, they followed the guard until they came to the base of the large gate. It swung back open to admit them. Cahl' Dho again caught his Sohorkon’s eye. It seemed as if he were trying to convey something, some sort of warning without saying anything. Why wouldn't he speak his mind if there were something he needed to know? And why would he be nervous about admitting a prince into his own city? True, he hadn't recognized any of the other guards with him. Was that why Cahl' Dho was hesitating?

  Cahl’ Dho moved aside as Sohorkon and Siri moved inside. As they passed under the tall arched gateway, Sohorkon started scanning the entry plaza. Nothing was out of place. All looked as it should, but something still seemed different. All the people looked the same, moving and milling about through the streets, the guard taking their normal station, with Cahl' Dho again stepping up to continue their escort. It was the feeling, the Spirit of the city that was different. It was tense, strained.

  They arrived at the Captain's office. Cahl' Dho reached up and opened the door and Sohorkon helped Siri up the steps and went inside. When he looked to address the Captain-of-the-Wall, his blood froze, and his mouth fell open.

  The Captain rose from behind his desk. Sohorkon didn't notice he was a stranger, nor did he notice he was wearing different uniform, a black girt tunic and breeches with a sunburst sigil emblazoned on his chest.

  All Sohorkon could see were two sleek, green, hairless creatures flanking the Captain. Siri clenched his hand, biting off a gasp.

  Pontu’ Gi!

  ***

  The iron bars swung out with a screech. Javin was prodded inside the dank cell by the guard who still held a knife to his neck. On the way down, he'd pressed too hard a couple of times and Javin could feel the damp trickle on the side of his neck. He hadn't dared move his hand to try and staunch the flow of blood for fear the guard would use it as an excuse to push it deeper. Revenge, Javin decided. The guard was getting even for making him the fool in front of his new leader. That brought a smile as he visualized the memory of Saballa spinning into a crumpled heap on the floor.