by Warren Fahy
Blox laughed. “That is Trevin! Good Prince of Norlania, Trevin’s scepter turned blood-red in his own hand!”
“Yes. But Trevin is not being ancient,” Rollum said. “He is being my own age, I am thinking.”
Blox smiled. “Red is the ancient color of evil, but Trevin is its youngest heir.”
“I am giving the stone to Artimeer,” Rollum said, sliding the stone across the table, and Artimeer plucked the stone from the groove even as Rollum’s pass was challenged.
“Five for the Red Lion’s daughter!”
“10 for Rishen!”
“25 for Rishen!”
“37 for Artimeer!”
Artimeer smiled as the debate heated up.
Blox shouted, “A vote should be taken! What more can we debate, Ameulintians?”
The Red Lion’s daughter, Senthellzia, caught Artimeer’s eye, and the philosopher threw her his Voice Stone across the table. Her falcon, Harm, caught the stone in one talon and blinked dryly as he dropped the pebble into her outstretched hand.
A voice vote resoundingly confirmed the pass.
The daughter of Gieron’s house rose now to address them. “I, like Nil Ramesis, wish to hear Lelinair Martharr. Why do you forsake your noble father and sit with Blox today?”
“She has joined with the truth and given her allegiance to the future king. Does that anger you, Daughter of Gustomeer?” Blox inquired, signaling Rishen.
“It devastates me.” Senthellzia slid her stone down the groove to Lelinair. “Speak!”
A unanimous vote confirmed her pass.
Lelinair lifted the stone and rose. “I tell you that Nil Ramesis plans a voyage to rescue Trevin in a ship that he is wrighting for that purpose. And he will do it whether this Congress votes Yea or Nay.”
“Lelinair!” Poladoris shouted in agony as though a sword had run him through.
Harm hissed on Senthellzia’s shoulder.
Nil squeezed his fists over each half of their lightstone pebble, hoping now never to see them joined. He rose to steady Artimeer and saw Lelinair looking at him now, and it shook Nil to see the clear and confident light in her eyes. He looked down at the halves of lightstone in his bloody palms as Artimeer saw them, too.
“Let us vote,” Blox cried. “Good Ameulis, let us vote to forbid any rescue of Trevin. The fate he faces is that of the wicked. Hala herself would destroy him, and that wisdom we deny at our own peril. All we need do is nothing! How easy it is to secure our fate. Let us forbid Nil Ramesis to cross this Congress’s will. Let us wait with kind hearts and good hope for our new King who would come to us innocent with open arms, eager heart, and unblemished loyalty. He will seem like Trevin, only He will bear no stain. His scepter will be pure and multi-colored as all creation under the sun!” Blox flung his stone unexpectedly down the table to Artimeer. “Take the Voice-Stone, Artimeer. Say what you will, and let us vote.”
Artimeer took the Voice-Stone in his hand and noticed that it felt freezing cold in his fingers. Artimeer knew then: Blox had poisoned it. He caught the mayor’s gleeful eyes, but he pressed on with the precious breaths still left to him. “Before we vote, I shall make my final statement to this Congress.”
All sighed at his momentous words.
“I have watched the face of this great land in many seasons down through decades. Having counseled Selwyn for 50 years and Trevin, alas, a few precious days, I learned much about this dynasty. The responsibilities that weigh on their gracious heads are heavy and concern things otherworldly that would overwhelm us short-lived people. A noble folk are the Gheldrons. I say to you now,” Artimeer reeled for a moment as his sight dimmed, but he steadied himself: “I say to you now that each of these Cirilen-Lords has been reluctant to rule his subjects. Not gods but protectors instead have these Kings been, allowing the heart and soul of Ameulis to prosper, sowing goodness by letting it grow while cutting back only evil. Their rule has led to a bountiful harvest. Rich have these Kings left us and heroically protected us from foreign harm. Now Blox boasts of this ‘messiah’ eager to rule us. Eager? Beware the eager hand of rule! That Trevin refused to take our throne should be his highest claim. That this ‘Nekkros’ seems so impatient should cause our gravest doubt…”
Artimeer felt his chest squeezed as if between two great hands, and he glanced at Blox, whose face changed shape, like clay being sculpted, into a boar’s head with a long snout and slitted eyes. Though his mind was composed, a cold sweat poured over the old philosopher’s brow, channeling in the deep arches etched over his eyes. His hand shook as he gripped the poisoned stone. “An ancient evil has followed the Gheldrons since Elwyn brought his family out of Sentad,” he whispered, and all listened closely in perfect silence. “The evil that preyed on Selwyn is the same that hastens our young King to an early grave. Do not listen to this foreign tyrant who may seem comely to you. Blox is the agent of a thing beyond our modest imagination or even his, who seeks entrance to this world by conquest…” Artimeer paused and caught his breath. “Alas, I am poisoned!”
The Loyalists gasped to see him fall.
Nil caught him and helped him to his chair, and tears streaked like lightning under his dark brows. He looked at Lelinair; and she smiled, glancing away. He wished her damnation in that moment and then thought no—and he opened his hands.
“Nil,” whispered Artimeer. “Join the halves…”
“Let us vote!” Blox took the Voice Stone from Lelinair’s hand, marking her treachery. “Artimeer has said all he will say. All those who would forbid rescuing Trevin to greet Nekkros with love and not hatred, I ask you to say ‘Aye!’ and be recorded in the Ledger now.”
Enough factions joined the Nekkrosites to utter “Aye” at Blox’s call.
“Say ‘Nay.’” Blox cocked his left hand behind his ear with the Voice-Stone suspended above the stump of his severed wrist.
Too few answered.
“The motion is carried!” cried Rishen.
Nil rubbed the broken halves of the lightstone pebble together. The edges clashed against each other after growing apart for so long, as he suspected. Was this what she was showing him now? That she was his enemy? As he twisted them then, the edges found a slight, impossible concrescence that caught and guided them, fitting together in a smooth stone that suddenly shrank in Nil’s hand and burned, like a star. As the spreading halo of its light widened from his palm, it revealed colors no one there had ever seen before. He rose, and raised it high.
The delegates recoiled, watching in awe as the eminence from the love-star spread down the table. Before its searing light reached him, Blox recognized the force approaching and was terrified. Its piercing light touched him, and revealed his face to all the delegates around the table.
Artimeer gripped Nil’s shoulder. “Now all can see,” he whispered in Nil’s ear. “Finish the day, Lord Ramesis.” Then Artimeer slumped in his chair.
Nil turned to the guards at his back, holding the shining stone before him, and they retreated before its merciless light as Nil strode forward and took his sword from the Olix horn on which it hung against the wall. He unsheathed the blade and leaped onto the Congress table, pointing the blade at the Mayor.
Rishen took Blox’s Voice-Stone and rallied the guards. “The mariner has bared his blade in this Hall! Strike him down where he stands!”
Hallot rose. “Nay, he holds a Voice-Stone!”
“I would gladly die, run through on this very table, my blood draining in its grooves into each lap if there isn’t one man in this company who would stand with me now that evil is made so plain!” Nil strode down the table as the guards held back.
“His sword is bare—the law is clear!” Rishen shouted. “Guards, strike him down!”
Some guards drew their swords.
“At ease!” Blox cried.
For Lelinair, standing on the chair behind him now, held a crystal dagger to his throat. For she had concealed the curving knife beneath her breast. “Nil Ramesis!” she cried. “If t
here is one who stands with you it is me!”
Rollum rose. “The men of Norlania cannot be watching a woman’s courage without answering!” He took his own sword and jumped onto the Congress table, running to Nil’s side.
“Me, as well!” shouted Captain Skylar, stepping onto the table.
“Count me,” cried Leoned of Bayton, a shaven-headed Nekkrosite who took his own weapon from the wall and stepped onto the table beside them, for he had seen Blox’s true face only now.
“Tuxon of Brin stands with you, Lady Martharr!”
“As do I, Hallot of Gwylor!” The portly delegate climbed onto the table looking at Nil with eyes wide and alive.
Senthellzia sent her falcon with a whisper into the vault of the hall where it wheeled and swooped over Rishen, snatching the Voice-Stone he held and returning it to her. She rose and took the stone, crying, “Take these mercenaries from this Hall!” And to this a resounding Voice Vote shook the rafters.
Lelinair let the paper-thin edge of her dagger nibble the stubble on Blox’s throat. “Be gone, you men-at-arms! Repair to your armory,” Blox quailed, his Adam’s Apple scraping on Lelinair’s blade.
As the guards left the hall, they closed the east doors behind them and at once all the delegates rose and claimed their weapons from the Olix horns on the walls. Then more leaped onto the table with Nil, Rollum, Leoned, Tuxon, Skylar and Hallot as they approached Blox.
The light of the love-star peeled back Blox’s masks as Nil advanced and revealed his faces, each more hideous and hateful until even the Nekkrosites were horrified, though there were some whose loyalty did not waver, seeing only what they had known from the beginning.
“This is revolution, mariner!” Blox charged. “Treason and heresy!”
Nil pointed his sword at Blox. “So be it. Let us draw the battle lines today rather than let the tide drown us. Here is the line, Blox! No further shall you pass. Let us see who wins the siege of Ameulis now that she is roused and an honest fight begun!”
“Hear! Hear!” came the delegates’ answer, reverberating in the rafters.
Lelinair let Blox go and jumped onto the table with the 70 strong who joined Nil.
Seeing the tide unmistakably turning against them, Blox and Rishen backed away from the table.
“Go now!” Nil cried. “Run!”
And Blox and Rishen both ran, chased by jeers through the double doors to Blox’s ante-room, bolting the doors behind them.
And the last thing that Artimeer perceived was the roar that filled the air as Ameulintians took back the hall.
Chapter 19
Revolution
Seventy Delegates, their entourage, and a hundred renegades from the Mayoral Guard thundered together down the Alder Road along the Thurnal River to the city.
Billowing capes with standards whipping, scabbards glinting, bridles flashing, and the company rolling like a storm down the highlands amidst a thunder of carriage wheels and hooves and laughs echoing.
One carriage bore Artimeer’s body, now tended by Senjessi and Poladoris, whose tears were mixed with hope even as the sun chipped the cloud and three gold fingers pointed over the Gulf of Gwylor.
One last, swirling rain glittered over the city, gilding its gray streets as the clouds finally broke.
Nil and Lelinair rode Star and Indigo, who raced for the lead as they felt the force behind them. The clattering hooves, jangling weapons and grinding wheels startled the somber countryside and brought people out to crowd the city’s streets.
Finally, the company crossed the bridge over the Thurnal River and plunged under the arch of Gwylor’s north gate onto Gieron Way, where throngs had already gathered to greet them.
The Gwylorians, having grown cautious under the cloud of Blox, were amazed at the sunlit arrival of these joyous people. And though at first they were apprehensive, thinking them Blox’s messengers and marking many uniforms of the Mayoral Guard among them, when they saw them laughing out loud and with such good heart, they knew some great news had finally arrived. And, spontaneously, people ran into the streets, still carrying their brooms, hammers, quills, rolling pins and ladles as they joined the charge, not knowing its cause, but guessing it well enough.
The train lengthened to a thousand as they entered the heart of the city, and bells rolled and rang in the city’s towers as they passed. Shivering birds took to the air as the clouds caught fire and burned like paper in the sky.
Bulgar, on his stocky steed, drew beside Nil and Lelinair as they slowed to a procession. He flashed a toothy grin as his jewels sparkled in the sun. “Well done, Lord Ramesis!”
Behind the merchant came Prince Rollum astride an ashen stallion, his blond hair whipping his brow. “On behalf of Norlania, I am offering my service and allegiance, Lord Ramesis.”
“Thank you,” Nil said. “I shall need both!”
“My mother, Queen of Norlania, is sending friendly and urgent blessings to your young King. And I am offering my blade, as well.”
“Dear Prince, thank you,” Nil said. “It will be tested!”
Rollum flashed a grin. “That’s how I’m liking it!”
“I hope you’re as fierce with a saw.” Nil winked, reining Star to the right as they came to the embarcadero. He and Lelinair led the lengthening column down the western seafront, whose shady characters dispersed as the train of people arrived like a flood. As the street narrowed, the followers strung out behind, filling the dreary lane along the waterfront. The love-star, which Lelinair held up in her hand, illuminated the street where Nil’s humble shipyard crouched, and its light made it seem not so mean as it colored its dingy buildings. She met Nil’s gaze now, wearing his greatcoat, and cast back her head in joy, all her fears finally mastered even after they were fully realized.
Nil felt an infinite gratitude for her smile, his heart beating with pride and purpose such as he had never felt, and he yelled over the wall: “Lince! Heave open the gates, and make it quick, mate! An army’s come to launch the Lady.”
“Naw, I heard the bells,” came a gravelly voice behind the fence. A winch grinded, and two wide sections of fence opened inwards.
Nil and Lelinair rode in, and his horse reared before the yard house as he waved his fellow revolutionaries through the gate.
Lince stood dumbstruck to one side. The coaches and wagons that could not fit stopped along the street as their passengers poured into the shipyard. And the people gasped as they saw the ship there.
Cradled in giant stocks of elm resting upon thick logs of beech sat the Sea Mare.
She stretched 143 feet from stern to prow, without the bowsprit that had yet to be mounted. Lelinair’s breath caught as she saw the vast ship, and it seemed it had seen her first, like a rival. With a wedge-shaped fo’c’sle, a long waist and a stately sterncastle, the Sea Mare seemed graceful despite her size. Though her sleek lines were made to cut through sea and air, her hull was wrought of hard oak six inches thick and ribbed with iron, Lelinair knew. The ship sat high on her stocks, and a close look revealed copper spikes stabbing down from her keel with one large wooden spike astern that angled forward. Hope and fear filled Lelinair’s heart as she looked at Nil’s terrible warship.
The crowd hummed with praise and comment. They noted the narrow, two-story cabin in front of the mainmast with a ship’s wheel on the roof. Nil explained to those nearby that the wheel’s windlass turned a gear in a steerage box on the Green Deck below that in turn winched the rudder with copper cables.
Despite his innovations, however, all could see that the ship was far from seaworthy. Her two masts had not been stepped, her rails had yet to be fitted, and there were no ladders between the decks. Below, bunks, portals, storage closets, benches, and tables had yet to be built. The Sea Mare was much more than everyone had expected, but much less, too.
Nil rode through the parting crowd and climbed off his horse and over the ways to her main deck. He pulled himself onto the aftercastle and then raised his arms to the people.
They cheered and threw their hats as the bay turned blue under the opening sky.
“Blox lost a battle today!” Nil cried.
More cheers jeered the distant tyrant on the hill.
“But we must be vigilant. His invisible hand is still strong. Those who fear him should leave now, and in peace.”
The people only laughed as though Blox’s time had already passed, like the clouds in the sky.
“Not more than ten days we have to finish this vessel and launch her on the sea!” Nil said. “And not more than that should it take if we work hard and smart. Let our steel ward off Blox’s guard, yet do not seek blood, my compatriots. For we do not wish war, but time. Spread the word and let all know that the time has come to stand together. Let Blox’s guard hear that if it gives provocation, we will be united in our defiance.”
A roar of approval filled the shipyard.
“I’ll need a crew of noble hearts with unmatched skill and courage. Seventy is the number I seek. The risk is great, but the prize is freedom.”
Those that still had them threw their hats in the air as the people celebrated, seizing Nil’s challenge now that they were brought together in the same moment.
“Those under my pay shall now be foremen,” Nil directed, “and they shall oversee the labors of those who join us.” Nil pointed out his bewildered staff. “Those who are not carpenters or skilled as shipwrights I ask to stand aside so suitable work may be found for you. The Sea Mare still needs lumber, food, water, weapons, rope, blankets, stoves, hammocks, ale, plates, cups, silverware, candles, and more! If any can provide these supplies, you would be of a great service, indeed, along with those who can deliver these supplies by horse or wagon. I’m afraid I cannot pay more than those already in my hire.” Nil held out empty hands.
A small, wiry man with long gray hair, who had climbed over the stays to the forecastle, shouted in return: “Good sir, you’ve paid us more than any king or mayor! Our work is thanks for freeing us from him!” He pointed north to Congress Hall, which still brooded on the distant cliff under a cloud.