“Suicide is too easy so you would let them kill you,” the king laughed. “Tsk. Tsk. We could put an end to your suffering now if life pains you so, young warrior.”
“Not likely,” Dariak intervened, “as you’re here at our mercy, not the other way around. Tell him what he wants to know.”
The king turned to his chancellor. “Where did I banish them to?”
“Banish!” Gabrion shouted.
The king drew strength from Gabrion’s outrage. “Their children die so easily in Hathreneir. First their son and then their daughter. What need did I have of them? If they had stayed longer, their ill will may have befallen me next since they had run out of offspring. Tell them, Ieran. It is of no consequence.”
“You’re certain? These cretins are likely to kill them. Very well, then. They were escorted north to the Undying Stone.”
“How do I get there?” Gabrion asked.
“Go north,” the king answered, as if speaking to a daft child. His attitude received a shove from Gabrion, who released him and stepped back.
The meeting was not going well in Dariak’s view, and Gabrion’s odd question had derailed everything he had wanted to say. Randler also noted the loss of momentum and interjected. “Our lands have been bitter enemies since the early days of Lady Hathreneir and Lord Kallisor.”
“Not a history lesson,” the king complained. His attempts to taunt the group seemed to be working. He realized, of course, that if things went awry, then he would be the first casualty, but if he could break them down then it would be all worth it in the end.
Randler was not distracted by the interruption. “For centuries we have spent countless lives on defending our lands from each other, but what if it was no longer necessary? For a moment, consider what life would be like if there was peace.”
The king scoffed. “There would be no progress, you ignorant fool. We all push our abilities further and further to overcome the worst blows of our enemies. Take the fight away and you remove our reason to push past where we are today. Why, the defenses within this castle wouldn’t even exist if we hadn’t felt it was necessary generations ago to have additional security. You may have located a hidden passage or two, but you haven’t hit upon the heart of things here.”
“Because with the right levers pulled, this castle becomes a great, towering stone giant,” Kitalla guessed. She plastered an overly broad smile to her face, looking insane in the process. “Or perhaps you are referring to the trapdoors in this room that could either drop you to the lower floor or could collapse this whole half of the room?” His lip twitched and he gave himself away. “We have already secured those defenses, as well as the ones from the floor above, where keystones can be released to drop the ceiling stones upon us.” She turned to Verna. “Did I miss anything?”
She nodded readily. “The oil channels. Opening the sluices above to let the wall sconces run together carrying a river of fire to any number of locations. Oh, and the pressure plates with the arrows, not to mention the—”
“Enough!” the king growled. “You’re… rather well-informed.”
From the shadows, Poltor called out, “Thank you, sire.”
Kitalla huffed. “It is too bad we want to try dealing with you alive, because I would have enjoyed testing out the cutting wall on the second floor. Looks painful.”
“Even if we haven’t discovered every little loophole here,” Dariak took over, “we are prepared to stand against you if we have to. But we would rather not have to.”
The king rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes, do let’s finish this part of our chat.”
“Make a list of reasonable demands from the Kallisor king,” Dariak decided to cut to the ending. “What resources do you need? What purpose do you have for wanting to invade Kallisor?”
“You mean other than to bed their women?” the king asked purely to anger Gabrion, which worked.
“Funny.” Dariak laughed, trying to deflate the rage on the warrior’s face. “I suppose you were only able to bed Ieran until your little attack on Savvron, then? Surely he knows you quite well after all this time.”
Ieran was more put off than the king and he shouted, “You disgusting pervert! How dare you even conceive of such a thing!” He thrashed around and the guard at his shoulder had to grab him to make him stop.
The king sighed. “Don’t insult Ieran’s manhood. It’s childish.”
“Then be serious yourself,” Dariak challenged. “Make a list of demands from Kallisor and a list of concessions. It is my intention to break down the animosity between our people and unite these kingdoms. To do so, you will both need to do some bartering.”
The king enunciated every word. “I do not see the point.”
“Hathreneir is my home,” Dariak started. “As it is also Verna’s and Ruhk’s. But this land is dying. The desert waste keeps expanding. No one talks about it but it’s obvious. If the mages weren’t able to draw from the elements around us, then we would be beggars, all of us. But it can’t last forever. Another two or three generations? Do you really think it’s possible to defeat Kallisor in that much time? We haven’t had a decisive victory—or defeat—in centuries. What’s another hundred years? You haven’t been to Marritosh recently and you have no idea how few people were left to join your forces before it was destroyed. Supplies are just going to dwindle further. And what then? You said it yourself, war pushes us to be more creative and devious and crafty. Every advance you make here is met by the Kallisorians. Every war ultimately ends in a stalemate.
“Isn’t it time for there to be a change? Or do you think you’re going to go down in history as the king who conquers Kallisor? Write your name in the annals for all the future generations to see? Great King Prethos, defeater of sin, conqueror of evil. It isn’t likely to happen. Tell me, sire, how many people can name one king beyond your father? How many of their names are renowned at all? Only the originators; Hathreneir and Kallisor. Perhaps you can name them all, but in the minds of the people, that means little. You’re here now because your line traces back to royalty, but you’re a happenstance. You’re not directly important.”
Every statement struck a blow to the king and though he stood resolute, his eyes lowered with every passing phrase. Dariak pressed on.
“What if your name went down as the man who changed the world? What if you became as memorable as Hathreneir herself? Where they fell apart, you drew us all back together. You say we need war to make us excel, but I beg to differ. My father pursued magic for its own sake, but he sold his knowledge to your father to earn the freedom to continue his research. The mages in the Magitorium don’t toil there for the benefit of war. They seek to enhance their skills purely for scholarly interest, to see what they can accomplish. Who’s to say we can’t all be that way? That we can’t all achieve our best and push ourselves further just because?
“Who built the mage towers? Was it warmongers? No. The first settlements were not for war either. We’ve lost our way and we have been lost for a good long time. Prethos, Ender of War. Are you so lacking in creative spirit and drive that you can’t find another purpose for our people? That, beyond fighting, there is nothing left? It is time for a new regime, a new system, a new peace.”
Dariak shook his head slowly as he continued, “I grew up under the shadow of war but did not experience it until my quest. I grew up loathing Kallisorians, but I have come to see that their struggles are my own. Isn’t it tiresome looking ever over your shoulder waiting for the day you prematurely die because you overlooked an assassin or a stray arrow from the training ground? Are you so afraid the people will rise against you if we don’t have a common enemy? Do you doubt your leadership so wholly that you can’t change the ways of old into something new?”
The king’s face was unreadable. “What would you have me do?”
“Ruhk?” Dariak turned to him to answer for his heart was racing and he had no idea where any of his inspiration was coming from, but he felt it was leaving him.
The commander snapped to attention and explained the events that transpired in the outpost under Gabrion’s eye. “It wasn’t easy trying to trust one another, but we did it. Most of us. It isn’t an easy thing, sire, but it is possible.”
“Why tell me this?” the king asked. “You will kill me after this meeting anyway.”
“No,” Dariak countered. “Killing you would be no better than all the deaths we have had already. It would only cause the people to rise up in further anger, then even more lives would be lost. It’s important that you, as their king, condone this plan.”
“If I do not?”
“You don’t have a choice,” Gabrion answered, again drawing confused looks from everyone. “You will comply for one year, under duress.”
“You cannot torture me,” the king rebuked. “You can’t even kill me, by your own admission. If you try to leave me to this task with guards hovering around me, I will simply kill myself and bring about your destruction. You won’t even be able to use your jades because that would require you to obliterate everyone around you and that would be worse than any war. There is no way you can force me to obey this ludicrous plan.”
Gabrion turned to Randler for a moment and then focused back on the king. “Your beloved chancellor keeps a detailed record of your comings and goings, no doubt for some future biography. In his notes, he lists only a single heir.”
The blood suddenly drained from the king’s face, and Ieran’s. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.
“You haven’t seen your son recently, have you?” The truth of it was clear. Poltor had separated the infant as a means of keeping the king quiet until this audience, but Gabrion apparently had other plans for the child. “And to ensure you don’t give fruit to another heir, you will be castrated.”
Even Kitalla gasped.
“Preposterous!” the king sputtered.
Dariak cut in. “Or perhaps we can find another alternative.”
“Celibacy?” Verna chimed in. “I’m not sure I would believe it. Even if we surround him only with other men, who’s to say some nature mage can’t find a way of carrying his seed to some wench?”
The king sank down to his knees, shaking his head. “You are all worse than any tyrants in history.”
“Not at all,” Gabrion spoke again. “You see, by forcing you to endure the new ideology for a year, you may realize its merit. And if you simply give it a wholehearted try, then your son will be returned to you unharmed. Get yourself killed by any means, and your line ends.”
“And if, at the end of the year, it is determined that this… peace… isn’t going to work?”
“If you have truly endured and given it a truthful attempt, then your son will still be returned to you.”
“And then we both die?”
“No.” Gabrion held his gaze until the king realized he meant it. “It only took a number of days for a contingent of fighters from opposing sides to see the allure of setting aside their weapons. With the king’s endorsement and adherence, a year will be more than enough to prove our point.”
The king raised his head. “But if you are wrong?”
Dariak answered. “If, at that time, my quest has ended in failure, then I would see no point in pursuing it further. I’d find a remote place to live out my life as far from war as possible.”
The king stood up, seeing a weakness to their plan. “But what of Kallisor? If we withdraw, we will be invaded.”
Dariak rose up fully. “I will stop them. This land will be safe.”
“You cannot protect an entire border,” the king argued. “You are not making sense.”
“I have my allies,” he replied. “I have the jades. Kallisor will be stopped and a peace between you will be negotiated.”
“Once we both settle upon an appropriate list of concessions,” the king added skeptically.
“Like any good agreement,” Dariak nodded.
The king held the mage’s eyes for a long, silent time, debating the conditions. “Your concession; you will not castrate me.”
“We will consult the healers and mages and see if there is a way to sterilize you temporarily.”
“It isn’t necessary,” Kitalla decided. “It takes a good long while to produce a child at any rate. Surely by then it won’t matter. Besides, why not just make it another condition? If he mates with a woman or otherwise manages to impregnate someone, we execute his line.”
The king’s jaw tensed. “What security will I have that my son will be safe in the interim?”
“If he dies,” Kitalla smiled, “we’ll line up all the women we can find and let you mass produce.”
Dariak would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so tenuous. “Trust will have to begin somewhere. We will trust you to run this kingdom our way for one year, granted with support from the people who got me this far. You will trust us to protect your kingdom and your son.”
“Go ahead,” Gabrion pressed. “Take your time deciding.”
Chapter 12
A New Beginning
It took several days to set the new path for the kingdom of Hathreneir. The king was allowed to spend a short amount of time with his son each day, under careful guard, and it helped to fortify the infant as a bargaining chip. Ieran was irate at the turn of events but even he conceded to the king’s decision.
Getting word out to the people was a challenge, but Prethos made a solid show of his support for this new ideology. He spoke of it as if it was his own idea, as if he had sent Dariak out on his quest over a year ago for the sole purpose of discovering the feasibility of peace. The people were confused but because the king persisted in his responses, they eventually acquiesced, though enacting the plan would take time.
Prethos was even astute enough to inform the populace that Kitalla’s housing plan had been all part of his strategy, but that he had needed to test the loyalties of a select group of individuals in the kingdom. He expressed his deepest apologies for forcing the rest of his subjects to endure the difficulties and the confusion.
When he was asked about the fighting, including the magical bird that had decimated a good third of the castle, he hesitated for only a moment, but then explained that it was the work of the traitors he had tried to ferret out with his plan. They had infiltrated the higher ranks and had brought about their own destruction. It was a lesson for himself, he had said, that he needed to be even more vigilant in his rule, for no one ever should have been able to insinuate themselves into his ranks in such a manner. He craftily preyed upon the sympathy of his people, and they blamed the infidels and not the king himself.
As the days wore on, his tale never wavered. He instructed the soldiers of the new way of things and he demanded they cast aside their hatred and prejudice or leave his side. No one resigned, mostly because it was perhaps the only job that ensured the safety and wealth of their families. Grudgingly, they accepted his orders.
Messengers were sent out to ride across Hathreneir to bring the decree to all the subjects. Prethos kept Dariak and Kitalla nearby to ensure that his missives were accurate and that there were no alterations or substitutions as the messenger tubes were sealed and the riders were sent on their way. It was all more than Dariak could ever have hoped for. And of course, that made him uneasy.
“And now, Dariak,” said the king one afternoon, “it is time for you to fulfill your part of the bargain. I have spread the word of this new peace and collaboration. You must now tend to the safety of Hathreneir. If you do not, then I will need to act; and I assure you, my actions will not coincide with your desires. I would understand if you require a day or two for preparations, but I would be wary if you claimed to need more than that.”
Dariak called his captains and friends together and they discussed the events that needed completion.
Gabrion was adamant, “I am taking the baby north to Mira’s parents. I will bring a few soldiers from our army and his. The rest of you take care of the rest.”
“You’re
awfully bossy these days,” Kitalla noted.
He glared at her but did not respond.
Dariak frowned. “I was hoping you would come with us to the east to help us stop the skirmishes, but I can see you’re set. Fine, the task is yours.”
Gabrion stood up and nodded his head to the gathering. “I will make the necessary preparations and be on my way.”
“Just like that?” Kitalla hissed. “You coward.” He turned away but Kitalla pounced and grabbed him. “I get it; you’re angry and hurt. I did a terrible, heartless thing. Fantastic. Now you know who I truly am. That doesn’t give you the right to walk out on the rest of the group because you want to go sulk and play nursemaid.”
Gabrion’s body twitched as he fought to control himself. “You tore away my last bit of hope, and then walked up to me and said it was all a hoax. Maybe you think I’m running away again, but I’m not. This time I’m not doing anything for anyone else. I’m not going into mourning because I killed Mira or lost you. I’m bringing that child away from this place. Away from the fighting.” Then his eyes went cold. “You know full well what happens to an infant in a battle.” He pointedly looked at her abdomen and she took an involuntary step back. “If you think I’m running away this time, you’re mistaken.”
“How will we rendezvous with you later?” Randler asked, hoping to keep the two of them from coming to blows.
“If I am meant to find you, then I will.” With that, Gabrion gave Kitalla one last, pained look, and then he left.
It took the thief a while to focus on the rest of the conversation or to take her seat again. She stared after him, warring with herself, but ultimately letting him go.
Lica tapped on the table and offered up the next task. “Dariak, if we’re going to stop the fighting out east, we will need help. Rothra went back to Magehaven and once the king’s missive arrives, he may find that he has the support to help us. Let me go take care of convincing him.”
“A good idea,” he agreed. Then he turned to Ruhk, “I need you here.”
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