The Azureans

by R Gene Curtis

  “I know,” she says. “Are you on guard all night?”

  “Only for ten more minutes.”

  “Can I take my friend to see the stone gate? I’ll come right back.”

  The man nods, and Turina waves at me. I follow.

  “You didn’t tell me that your father was the night guard,” I say once we’re out of earshot. Turina doesn’t respond. I grind my teeth in frustration. What else is there she’s not telling us?

  After what feels like forever, we get to the stone gate. Turina turns to go.

  “I’ll see you back at the meeting place,” I say. It’s more of a question than anything. She said she was going to see her father—how does that factor into the plan?

  “Of course,” she says, and she walks away. Back to the village entrance; back to her father. She isn’t going to sneak through the village. Did she ever plan to sneak through? Or, did she only approach the gate so forwardly because it was her dad?

  This isn’t what we planned. I want to run after her, but if I do, I let the chance to get into this cavern slip away. I remember watching Karl run away, not realizing he was walking away to his death. Am I doing the same thing again? Dynd and Ler are counting on me. Counting on me for protection, but also counting on me to get this information. If only hemazury let me see the future.

  Paralyzed by the indecision, I start down the trail after Turina. Then I turn back to the stone gate. I can see the protruding black stone. If Turina betrays us, Dynd said they would see people coming. Maybe they can escape and I’ll make my way back to Keeper to find them. I turn the stone three times and the ground underneath me disappears. I hope this is the right decision.

  I drop into another cavern with candles reflecting on smooth glass walls. Cylus stands across the room from me.

  I know this place; I know the drill. I’ve been here before. I try to shake the nagging worry for my friends. I’ll get the information and then get out of here. I’ve committed now.

  “Wynn?” Cylus asks me, his words ringing through the chamber.

  “Lydia.”

  “Come,” he says, and he beckons to me. “Come, and I will tell you the rest of my sad tale.”

  I sit down and hope this won’t take too long.

  Dee continued to visit me regularly over the course of the next three years. She wanted to bring Wynn, but I insisted that he never know who I was. I lived a comfortable life on the farm, comfortable, that is, in every way but how I felt. I was with Dee, and yet she was not mine.

  I lived under constant fear that King Webun would discover our secret and have me killed. How could he not discover it? Every time I saw Wynn, I saw myself. When Dee’s second child, a daughter, was born I knew that I was done for. She looked so much like me. My strong features from the countryside where I had grown up were nothing like Webun’s. The king named this daughter Verra.

  And yet, there was something about Dee that I could not part with. I looked forward to her every visit. Whenever I heard news that King Webun would be traveling, my heart would leap with excitement, and hours later, I would have Dee back in my arms. And her kisses. They were nothing like anything else I have ever experienced.

  Webun and Dee won the war. The kingdom was united, and there was peace everywhere but my heart.

  One evening after a long day’s work, I returned home from the fields to find the king’s coach in front of my house. I feared it was the end of me; I nearly ran away, but I decided to accept my fate and approached the king.

  King Webun stood at my gate, chatting with one of the coach drivers, his loud laugh ringing across the neighborhood.

  “Cylus!” he yelled as soon as he saw me. My heart beat rapidly and I gave him a weak smile. I could not meet his gaze—I was naked in front of him, a mirror image of the children that he called his own.

  King Webun was quiet for a minute, and I knew I was done for. Yet, when words came, he said them with a smile. “You have not been back to the castle!” he exclaimed. “I had hoped to one day see you on my court.”

  “I have been so busy here, and I’m happy and blessed by your generosity to me.” I bowed, glad for the chance to hide my face.

  King Webun laughed. “There is no need for such formality among friends. We have won all the wars, Cylus. There was a time I thought we had lost everything. You saved the kingdom, and I’m forever in your debt. The invitation to join the court is still and always open.”

  I didn’t know what to say. There I stood, a man who had betrayed the king in every way, and yet he showered me with praise. I wanted to shout, to tell him what I really was, to demand justice and save me from myself.

  Instead, I bowed and reaffirmed my loyalty, but reiterated my desire to stay on my farm. The king left. As he drove away, I realized what he did not say. It was the first time in years that a visitor did not inquire about my age and single status. I knew then that he knew. But if so, how could he look at me with charity and compassion in his eyes? I wanted to hate him, hate his goodness, and hate his kindness to me. I didn’t deserve it. I went into my home and cried. Surely the kindness would end, and I would be killed. It was what I deserved.

  Three weeks passed, and no one came except Dee. I told her of her husband’s visit.

  “He’s a good man,” she said.

  “Yes, and I’m not,” I replied. “Our meetings must stop.”

  “Don’t say that! How can I live without you? I need you. You are the only thing in the dreary castle life I look forward to.”

  “The battles are over. The kingdom is safe. You can live a normal life.” I said the words, but I didn’t feel them—not with her in my house. She protested, but I said nothing more. She tried to kiss me, but I was filled with a grief so strong that I couldn’t bring myself to kiss her back.

  I sent her away, and she never came back. I also left, leaving my farm in the hands of my servants, and went home to find my mother.

  My mother was shocked to see me, since my father had told her I was dead. He himself had died in a bar fight over a woman several years before. Mother was barely surviving on her own. I had no other option but to bring her to my house in Sattah.

  She loved the small farm.

  “This is all so beautiful, Cylus,” she told me. “But who will you share it with? You must find a woman and have children to share this beautiful existence, or you will go mad.”

  I didn’t tell her that I was already mad, having a lover and two children living in the castle. But, for her sake, I found a pretty girl across town, courted her, and we were married a few days before mother died. My wife and I had six children together, and I tried to repent of my extended liaison by being a good father and husband. There were many good times over the years.

  Still, despite my desire to be true to my wife, I never forgot Dee.

  Fifteen years to the day after I sent Dee away, I was taken back in time when a young lady came down our street. She was the splitting image of Dee when I first met her. It was only when the girl reached the gate that I noticed she had my long nose and high cheekbones. This was Verra.

  “Hello,” she said. “I’m Verra, daughter of King Webun.”

  “Hello.” I bowed to my daughter. “I’m Cylus. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?”

  My youngest son ran from the house yelling that dinner had been put on the table. I picked him up and invited Verra inside to enjoy dinner with us. She declined, saying that she must speak with me in private. She asked if she could wait on the porch while we ate, refusing my offer to skip dinner with my family. I ate quickly and excused myself.

  I led Verra through my farm, and we walked in silence for a time. We kept looking at each other when the other wasn’t looking. The evening was cool, and the field smelled fresh from a recent rain.

  Verra spoke first.

  “Cylus,” she said, “do you follow the happenings in the king’s palace?”

  “I do not,” I lied.

  “Do you know of King Webun’s children?
”

  “I know that his heir is Wynn and that you are his second daughter,” I replied.

  “And the third child?” she asked.

  “The third is Togan.”

  “Yes,” she said. “And, like Wynn, he also has the blue blood.”

  I stopped and my head snapped. This was a castle secret I had not heard. How had they hidden it? “How can that be? Do you also have the blue blood?”

  She shook her head, and we reached the end of the path. The ground was wet, and my shoes were heavy as I pulled them out of the mud. In Verra’s eyes I saw her mother. Fifteen years had passed since Dee left, but seeing her in this child made me long for her, a feeling I was never good at suppressing.

  “There are many theories,” Verra did not follow me into the mud. “But I have my own. Father told me about you—the man who found Dee. I came to meet you to see for myself.”

  I nodded. “I see. Have you found what you were looking for?”

  She smiled, but it was a sad smile that did not reach her eyes. “After meeting you, Cylus, there is little room in my mind to doubt that you are Wynn’s father. Togan is Webun’s first-born.”

  She didn’t say it, though we both heard it. And you are my father.

  “And the king knows this?”

  “If he does not, he’s blind. Yet, the only words he ever speaks of you are as the great Cylus who saved the kingdom.”

  The king was a fool. He should have had me executed years ago. “Why have you come?”

  “I came because your son and my brother are unfit to rule. I see it, mother sees it, but Webun refuses to see it. Wynn is ruthless. He relishes power, and he hates Togan. Togan inherited his father’s kind heart, but Wynn only sees him as a threat. He fights against Togan every chance that he gets. The other day I overheard Wynn planning to kill Togan. I came to find you, hoping that you would save the kingdom once again.”

  “I cannot help. I have my own family now.”

  Verra’s eyes filled with fire—passion that she could have only inherited from me. I couldn’t meet her gaze. “You cannot NOT help. Was this your plan all along? Do you relish the thought of your son dethroning the king to take power for himself?”

  “That isn’t what I want.”

  “Then?”

  I had no choice. If I didn’t help now, my illegitimate son would destroy everything I had given up Dee for. Verra was right, I would help.

  “I must speak with your mother,” I finally said.

  Verra bristled, and I knew immediately that this was not something she wanted to happen. “What do you need to say to her?”

  “I need to find out how she learned magic. I assume that she taught Wynn all that she knows? And Togan?”

  “Yes, she has tried to teach both of them, but she has told me that she has forgotten many things her father taught her.”

  “Find out how she learned,” I said, “and then come back and tell me.”

  “I’ll do it. Thank you.”

  She turned to leave, but I stopped her. “Verra, why is Wynn like this?”

  She started to cry. “Father,” she said, and the word slapped me across the face. For all that I did to be a good father to my six children, what kind of a father was I to her?

  “I imagine that Wynn feels like I do. He looks in the mirror and does not see Webun, but a stranger. We look at Togan, and we see Webun, who is supposed to be our father. Wynn wants to be Webun’s son. He wants to be king. He fears that one day Webun will take him for what he is—an imposter—and everything that he hopes for will be lost. His fear leads him to lust after power, and the rejection he has conjured in his mind justifies his ruthless attitude towards Togan. His feeling that he doesn’t belong, is his nidus of hate.”

  “He has told you all of this?”

  “Many of these are my own thoughts, but I’m different than Wynn.”

  “Will you tell Wynn about me?”

  She shook her head, “Wynn would kill you if he knew. Your identity is safe with me. But it would be wise for you to avoid the castle.”

  Two days later during supper, Verra returned. She entered the house with the grace and beauty of the princess she was. My wife shot a questioning look at me, but I did not return her gaze. I excused myself and left with Verra.

  Verra told me about a cave in the mountains where all the magic Dee had learned had been carefully hidden. It was not too far from the village where I had originally met her, and Togan would be able to open it.

  The next day, I told my wife that I had an errand from the king that I must take time to satisfy. I left her there with my children, like my father before me who left me alone with my mother so many years before.

  The king was delighted to see me, and he agreed to let me take Togan on an apprenticeship mission. I told him that we would return to the mountains and learn more about the people Togan came from. If Webun thought I had ulterior motives, he hid all his suspicions.

  Togan was a strong lad of fourteen. King Webun sent two other men with us to watch over him, and we made good time on horseback to the site of the village where Dee had once lived. We set up camp in some of the vacant houses, and Togan and I found the cave. We spent over a year there, and Togan and I learned as much as we could.

  We may have stayed longer, but Verra sent us news of the king’s death. Wynn had killed him, and he had killed Dee as well. Ready or not, the day had come for Togan to save the kingdom.

  Cylus looks at me with a sad smile on his face. “There is so much I could tell you about the ensuing decade,” he sighs, “but our time is over now.

  “Togan and I knew that if Wynn ever escaped after we banished him, he would try to discover the secrets in the caves up here,” Cylus says. “To give Wynn access to this information would make him unstoppable. So, we destroyed the information about the renewal of the blue blood, and hid all the other information behind this series of caverns.

  “My son is clever, and he’s cunning. But, he’s not patient, and going through the three caverns like this means that you are not Wynn. Behind you, there is the key and map that will get you to the cavern where the history of hemazury is stored. Goodbye.”

  Cylus disappears, and I’m left alone in the cavern.

  I retrieve the map and the key and carefully hide them in a secret pouch of my outer coat. With nothing left for me here, I make a hurried exit from the cavern to find my friends.

  ✽✽✽

  The moon is still bright, and the village is peaceful, although it’s much colder than it was when I went into the cavern. I take a few steps away, but I stop short when I see Turina waiting for me.

  “Did you and Cylus have a good chat?”

  I nod, but I don’t say anything about the cave. We’re alone, with the wind howling and the night still. “I thought that you were supposed to be waiting with the men?”

  “Oh,” she says with a laugh, “I am.”

  I start as I hear noise behind me, but I barely turn around before large hands grab all four of my limbs. My body lifts off the ground as four large men pull my limbs out and lock them. My startled scream echoes through the night as I struggle in vain.

  “Careful,” Turina says calmly, “she might look harmless, but she’s dangerous. If she so much as touches dirt or dust, all of us will be dead.”

  “Good thing the ground is covered in snow, then,” the man holding my left leg says.

  I squirm. I have dirt in my pocket, but the men hold tight.

  “Let me go!” Some hero I am, forgetting that my life is in constant danger. I should have put dirt in my hand before I left the cave. I should have trusted my instincts about Turina.

  “Where are Ler and Dynd?”

  The snow crunches, and I crane my neck to watch Turina meander up to me. A huge grin is spread across her face.

  “You are Arujan’s prisoner now,” she says, gloating. Her face shines with glee, like Joana’s face after she scored that goal in the state championship. “Finally! It’s spring, a
nd soon Arujan will be here to seize control of the mountain. We’re all getting off. We’ll all go free.”

  “Wynn will kill you all.” I give up struggling. It’s no use.

  “Lies,” Turina says and she spits in my face. She draws a knife from her tunic and holds it at my throat, rolling the blade gently over the skin. Will she kill me?

  “Hold still,” she says, and she pulls the knife back. My body tightens as she puts the knife against my arm. She holds it there and then slowly moves it to slice along the seam of my clothes. My muscles are already exhausted from straining against the men, and so I hold still, helpless, as Turina works. The blade doesn’t touch my body. Turina laughs and the night grows colder as she cuts my clothes off. Her hands brush my bare skin and I feel her hatred for me. Then my clothes start to slide off my body, and my skin is bare against the cold of the night. The cold reenergizes me, and I struggle again, but the men’s large hands hold firm. I scream and yell as my tunic, with the dirt in my pocket, falls far out of reach.

  “Put her away,” Turina says, gathering my clothes. With the clothes, she has Cylus’s map and key. I look at her, desperately wishing I could break free for just a second, just enough to touch some dirt and give myself a fighting chance.

  “In the same cell as the others?” one of the men asks.

  “No, you idiot!” Turina shouts. “In the Azurean cell.”

  It takes a minute to register what the man means. The others—they have Dynd and Ler. Still alive. That’s promising at least.

  The men carry me roughly through the quiet village to a steep mountain cliff on the other side of town. It’s warmer inside the mountain, but my body is so full of fear that I’m not sure it makes a difference. I’m taken through a long, dark hallway and thrown into a small room.

  I hit the ground hard, with barely time to get my hands out before I hit the frigid ground. I get only a brief look around before the door slams shut, leaving me in complete darkness.

  I shiver and then I crawl around the room, searching for dust. I don’t find any. The walls and floor are smooth. Completely smooth. I’ve been placed in the perfect prison for an Azurean.