Halence gave a nod of understanding and glanced Sorn's way. An ever more awkward feeling Sorn reflected on just how far he fell short from the virtues of the healer, considering what he had done to a ship himself, just a handful of hours ago. Sighing, Sorn gave Halence a slight shake of the head.
"I am sad to say then that the… affinities of the individual that I had hoped might be able to assist you lie in a different direction than that which is apparently required for the art of healing," Halence said.
"I understand, sir. Nonetheless, I do thank you for the offer. Now I must go to see to your friends as best I may. Please, come back in the morning but not before, and rest assured we will do all that we can."
"Of course, my dear lady. I am more than satisfied leaving my companions in your no doubt excellent care. Until the morning, then." With a final respectful nod, Halence left the healers, Sorn and his shipmates in tow.
It was a troubled Sorn whose footsteps followed Halence’s own as they made their way back to the ship. His preoccupation was such that he was barely cognizant of the occasional figures hurrying to destinations unknown in the dark night around them. He couldn't help but think back upon the terrible battle that had led to poor Bates' potentially fatal injury. The chaos, the confusion, the dreadful ache of seeing people around him that he knew and cared for come so perilously close to losing their lives in that terrible struggle. For a moment he felt like he was drowning as a nameless wave of anxiety washed over him, something he had curiously not felt at all during the heat of battle, when the fury had been upon him.
How fragile men were, Sorn thought, delicate bodies that worked mightily just to sustain life from day to the next. The slightest injury of significance and the poor soul was in peril.
He remembered as well the terrible wrath he had felt in that battle, fury on behalf of his companions, and he knew that had been a source of strength for him. His passions fueled his magic, or could, if felt strongly enough, and he knew the same was true of his cousins. What troubled Sorn was the intense dark satisfaction he had received in searing his enemies to ash. True, he hated them with a righteous fury for putting his friends in mortal peril, yet he knew this rage tapped into something darker. Something that felt justified in destroying his enemies and a dark glee as well in their torment.
Though it near sickened him on the one hand, on the other, he felt its dark seduction. For this bloodlust was as much a part of him as was the gentle, thoughtful Sorn who cared for his cousins or who flew a score of miles to deliver an injured armsman safely to his lord's demesne. Indeed, this side of himself troubled Sorn more than he cared to admit, for he knew it was part of what defined his people, and why he so desperately wanted to keep them away from this realm. He had begun to study the history of his people years ago, a rare objective for one so young, and partly out of bemusement and partly out of respect for whom his mother was, he had been allowed to do so.
His people at least wrote their history honestly, respecting truth deeply in their own way, and having nothing and no one to hide from. The accounts of bloody conquest he had read had near sickened him at the time, young as he had been, untried, a preadolescent with no experience at all in the dark fury that overcame one in the heat of battle or when defending one's possessions or loved ones. He and his cousins had, in fact, lived very sheltered lives. This sheltering had been in part due to their youth, and in part for who and what they were, and so they had no way to understand the terrible passions that could drive one to near madness in a true life or death struggle. Only once before had Sorn had to face such a trial, the memories of which even to this day he sometimes shied away from, for reasons that he still refused contemplate.
Now, a troubled Sorn realized that he could no longer deny his understanding of the savage passions that drove his people. And it disturbed him to no end to find that he himself, for all that he had striven to be enlightened, compassionate, able to empathize with the lives of other peoples whatever their shape or size, that for all this, in the heat of battle, his savage bloodlust and desire for destruction roared as great in his breast as he imagined it did for any of his kind. What was particularly troubling was the realization that he was not even in his true form, where his passions would run deepest and hottest, and where he would be most in touch with his darker self.
His true self, whispered a cold voice in his mind, harboring secrets he dared not contemplate. What this might bode for him in days of strife ahead was a disturbing thought indeed.
Sorn tried to find consolation in imagining that his cousins, though hungry with the passions and magics that they had unleashed this night, might not have been so overtaken with the bloodlust as he had been. Yet his could not help but recall the mirrored expressions of savage glee, barely checked madness, that had struggled to come roaring free in all its dreadful glory.
Sorn was forced to accept an uncomfortable truth. His cousins were every bit as much children of their people as was he. His one bit of consolation was that their wrath may well have been triggered by the pheromones released by his own dark fury. That, and the horror of seeing their erstwhile friend near fatally wounded by an enemy crossbow bolt, could well explain the savagery of their own reaction.
They were all still so young, Sorn reflected, still children in all ways that mattered, physically and otherwise. Nonetheless, this was a comfort for Sorn, and he made himself a promise that he would protect them not only from danger as best he could, but also from the dark and terrible passions that could so corrupt their fragile innocence.
Sorn knew his cousins bore no ill will to the people they were around, even liked and appreciated their friends, as was so evident with their concern for poor Bates. Yet Sorn understood as well that they did not share the deep sense of compassion and empathy for people in the abstract that he possessed. They didn't feel the same drive to empathize and help the troubled vassals of their own land, though this was no doubt partly because their lives had been even more sheltered than his, not to mention their youth and utter lack of experience.
Also, Sorn knew he was just unusual in his own right, and that, if anything, his cousins were more sensitive than most of their kind were at any age. Sorn knew as well that this was, though never said out loud, a source of minor derision, considering the role that his cousins were expected to one day play, should their brothers not succeed at the so-called glorious task for which they had been groomed for near a century. A task which, Sorn reflected upon with some wry amusement, they most definitely had not succeeded in accomplishing. Sorn's young cousins, who had been conceived simply as an added measure of assurance that the conquest of this world would be successful had, in fact, botched the very ceremony that would have opened the world gates to their older brothers. A sweet irony indeed.
The blame, however, would no doubt be squarely placed upon Sorn’s shoulders, for the simple fact that he had been their de-facto caretaker for as long as he could remember. Their mother, of course, was far too busy with other concerns to devote all of her time to child rearing, as was often the case with his people. Sorn, in fact, had been deemed an ideal candidate for serving as his baby cousins’ caretaker, being of the peculiar station and age wherein he had no responsibilities save his own studies and pursuits.
Though his unknown patronage led to an indefinite status in terms of his paternal bloodlines, his dam's bloodline and power bequeathed to him suitable status to at least care for his even then antic-prone cousins. His mother would scold him quite harshly when he used to gently protest, telling him that it was a position to be envied in some regards, as it meant that he would likely one day be their adviser as well as caretaker, a position that would lead to considerable status within the families his cousins would one day establish with their own future mates. Additionally, Sorn's somewhat notorious compassion and concern for others would be put to good use, as he was the one person whom all knew would not use his status to manipulate his cousins for his own ends or an opposing family's ends, being as
he was of the same family. And further, as his mother would say, he was the only suitable youth of both intelligence, education, and rank sufficient for the job who also had the temperament for it.
When all was said and done, despite his one-time protestations to his mother, he took the care of his cousins very seriously and felt a deep concern for their welfare that was both paternalistic and brotherly. One thing he could do, he promised himself, was to at least protect their innocence and safety, even if he could do little else for them in this strange land.
They were well on their way to succeeding on the first part of their plan, Sorn reflected, as the group made their quiet way back to their ship. Soon they would sell the grain, netting a very handsome profit if the captain was correct about the siege, which, considering the blockade, he probably was.
Soon Sorn and his cousins would be well on their way to buying title to a tract of land on the outskirts of the duchy of Famil. They would have no trouble clearing the land, of course, and an out of the way location would be to their benefit in terms of privacy as well as affordability. From there they could hire farmhands to raise any number of cattle, chickens, or other livestock, and be able to feast on their bounty at leisure, nurturing themselves in whatever form they took. Thus Sorn and his cousins could achieve prosperity in this strange land, and do so in harmony with the native peoples. This, of course, excited Sorn simply in that it showed that there were other ways his people could get along with others, conquest not being the only route to wealth and power. Of course, his chief concern was to have the means at hand to take care of his cousins in such a way that they would be exposed to a minimum of danger, both to their bodies and their innocence.
2
"Sorn," Captain Halence said, giving his brooding companion a concerned eye in seeing how preoccupied he was. "Are you all right?"
Sorn indicated that he was fine, even if a bit distracted with his thoughts, and Halence seemed to accept that.
"Do you see that man there?" Halence said, discreetly pointing to the well-attired man next to their ship, soon passed by the crewmen who had helped carry their injured brethren returned to the vessel, leaving only Halence and Sorn behind.
"My guess is that he is a messenger from the king who probably wishes to see his saviors in person."
Sorn noted the wry, almost mocking inflection in Halence's voice, and could only wonder what he was thinking.
"I would like you to accompany me, Sorn. It will be an interesting experience if nothing else, and as ship's wizard, you have that right even more than my second. Are you up for it?"
Sorn, intrigued, simply gave a quiet nod. Halence gave his shoulder a comradely squeeze.
"Excellent. Don't bother going back up to the ship to change, however. His majesty can take us just as we are, with the sweat and stink of the battle we endured to bring him his grain still upon us."
Halence, Sorn noted, seemed to get a curious sense of satisfaction out of this, though whether it was to serve as a negotiating lever or as a flaunt in the face of nobility, Sorn couldn’t quite tell. Nonetheless, the captain was a far more experienced hand at this game than Sorn was, and so he simply nodded his acquiescence once again.
At that point they were approached by the well-dressed young man whose tight waistcoat and haughty demeanor made him look like nothing so much as a penguin, Sorn thought, despite the well-oiled lockets of pale blond hair flowing down his shoulders. If the gentleman happened to notice Sorn's curious stare, he gave no comment, focusing all his attention on the man he took to be the captain of this ship.
"Would you, good sir, happen to be Captain Halence?" Halence nodded. "Excellent. His majesty deems fit to grant you his personal invitation to attend to him forthwith so that he may speak in person to the noble captain who risked all to bring grain to our people in this time of struggle. Should you need some moments to refresh yourselves, that is certainly acceptable," the young man added, raising an eyebrow at their soot-stained and battle-weary countenances.
"Oh not at all, young sir. Let us not delay his majesty with unnecessary preening, but go forthwith into his august presence." Halence's sardonic smile belied his light tone, and the young gentleman gave a puzzled frown.
"If you are quite sure, Captain Halence? Very well then, let us be off." With a barely audible sigh, the foppish young man made his way to an elegant looking carriage nearby which proceeded to take them quickly through the streets of Caverenoc. In truth, Sorn found himself passing most of the carriage ride in a fatigued daze, such that the majority of their passage through the city proper was a blur, noting only uniform similarity of the many buildings of sturdy stone construction.
Such was the pattern until they neared the palatial district, at which point the uniform buildings were abruptly replaced with individual mansions of elegant construction complete with large, well cared for gardens, the scents of wisteria, jasmine, and honeysuckle tickling Sorn's nostrils. Many manors were closed off entirely behind walls of polished stone, imposing iron gates alone gave passing glimpses into the richly appointed domains hidden within.
Their escort seemed to relax a bit as they traversed these obviously upper-class neighborhoods, but didn't bother to make conversation. Sorn had the distinct impression that the youth didn't really want to be there, and for all his flowery words about the king's appreciation, it appeared that this lad viewed escorting them to his majesty's august presence as nothing more than an unwanted chore. Soon enough they made their way past several iron gates, each manned by alert looking guards, and entered the grounds of the palace proper.
It was an impressive architectural achievement, Sorn thought, catching sight of ivory white minarets soaring overhead in the moonlight, connected by graceful arches, each with pennants he could see flapping in the night breeze. The palace itself was a magnificently huge structure filled with large windows of tinted glass, the whole constructed of a uniform white marble which Sorn was sure would near sparkle in the sunlight. The carriage rode past several sumptuously appointed gardens, the fragrance of roses and other exotic blooms scenting the warm night air with their rich, heady perfume.
"We are here, gentlemen," their haughty escort said with an audible sigh as he led them from the carriage to the palace entrance, grand arching doorway no less than ten feet wide guarded by four halberd-wielding men-at-arms who apparently recognized the youth, for they said nothing as he led Halence and Sorn past them into the palace proper.
Sorn was immediately inundated by the richness of his surroundings, from the elegant mosaics tiled on floor and ceiling, to the delicately embroidered tapestries interspersed with exquisitely rendered portraits lining the hallways. Bits of whispered conversation met Sorn's ears as they passed various groups of well-dressed men and women who often as not broke off their words abruptly, eyeing Sorn and Halence with no small amount of curiosity as they walked by.
Sorn was troubled to find that the majority of the conversations apparently had to do with the siege that was slowly forming around the city proper, and what the king had to do to deliver them all from disaster. Some appeared eager for a fight, mostly the younger men who as often as not sported elegant looking fencing blades attached to their attire, though most everyone else spoke with grave concern and gave off the sharp stink of fear.
The youth with the oiled curls stopped eventually in front of a large oaken door, knocking lightly and speaking quietly to a gentleman who then proceeded to open the door fully to reveal a well-appointed receiving room.
Seated upon an exquisitely carved and well-cushioned chair was a kindly faced man who took immediate note of their presence. Eyes a light shade of blue, with a small circlet of gold on his brow that complimented his rich, silvery curls, his look was one Sorn found hard to decipher. He was, Sorn noted, slightly rotund with middle age, though his elegant navy blue attire concealed it well, and his eyes were a bit puffy, from lack of sleep and worry, no doubt. This was, Sorn assumed, the king.
Yet far more capt
ivating to Sorn was the delicate figure seated to the king's left, who was at that moment capturing Halence and Sorn both with her deep green eyes. Her rich auburn hair, threaded neatly with strands of fine gold, flowed down past her shoulders in a graceful wave, serving as an elegant contrast to her gown of rich forest green that so perfectly matched her discerning gaze. She was, Sorn thought, quite beautiful, and the grace of her exquisite countenance was complemented all the more by the warmth of the soft smile she was sending his way.
So stunned was Sorn in that moment of pure revelation, to be so captivated by a figure and form in a way he had never experienced before, that he found himself momentarily dumbstruck. He hadn't even been aware that someone had been addressing him during that endless moment until he felt the gentle pressure of Halence nudging him in the back. The girl's smile indicated that she had noted the nudge.
"I am sorry, Your Majesty?" Sorn quickly apologized.
"I said, lad, that you appeared a bit young to be Captain Halence's second. And how might I address you, young sir?"
Sorn bowed as he thought was proper. "I am called Sorn, Your Majesty, and though I count him a friend, I am not Halence's second. Rather, I am Halence's partner in this venture."
Peril & Profit Page 3