The Grand Seeker replied without taking his eyes off the storm beyond the windows of the room. “Not entirely. I do realize the devastation that will befall the southern hemisphere if Bayland falls. But I do hope you understand what this means. This is different from the battles we have fought against them in the past. This is an open confrontation and will lead to an all-out war.”
Then the wizard turned to his friends. “The Chain of Cas has finally managed to land on the shores of Bayland with a union of eleven armies. If we move a single soldier into Bayland there will be no turning back.”
Trador listened without turning his eyes from the table.
Supremus turned his attention back to the board and remarked heavily, “We cannot abandon Bayland. You know that. Yet I have my hands full with the Murks and Windelows in the north and with the Brutes of Husk in the south.”
“I understand,” Aster replied. “Yet I also know that the Chain Lords of the Searing Summit wouldn’t have made such a bold move unless they knew that we wouldn’t be able to retaliate. And I wonder what makes them believe that?”
Then he addressed his king, “Can we at least expect help from Doster Rising? They are close to Bayland. Or even the Elves of Karelya?”
Prince Garold barked, evidently paying more attention than I had realized. “Are you serious?” Are you really thinking about coming face to face with the Lorks again? Even if we can survive a battle or two with them, have you forgotten about the Tirra Mortus? Do you ...?” he bit the rest of his question off when his eyes met the young wizard’s and saw the smile on the other man’s face.
I saw a faint movement in the painting behind the young wizard. The prince noticed it as well, and when he did, he fell into silence. When I looked more closely at the painting, I saw a screened figure. Someone stood right beside the wizard. The man had tattoos covering his muscled body which helped in his camouflage in front of the painting.
Trador raised his eyes from the table and regarded Garold with pity. Then he stood erect and looked at the map again. “We cannot act based on guesses and speculations,” he said.
Valadas added, “I agree. Doster Rising Company is occupied by grave matters. If we move, we do that on solid ground and affirmed information. We cannot expect or depend on any support from them.”
Garold bit his lips and turned away, and even I could not catch what he murmured under his breath.
“Are we moving against the Chain of Cas alone?” asked Aster, ignoring the young prince. “You know that this is a fight we cannot win.”
“Thank you. Finally, someone with common sense” Garold exclaimed, but he glanced quickly at the painting as he did so.
The stern king stared penetratingly at his son, a look that would have shaken the bravest of men. “Garold. You are here to watch and learn. When we need your consult, we will ask for it.”
The prince sulked, glaring at something in the distance. Trador sighed then turned to the assembly. “We cannot break our alliances and abandon Bayland. We cannot move our forces west. We cannot expect help from any of our friends. Therefore, I think it is time.”
Supremus, Valadas, and Aster exchanged looks. Supremus spoke first. “Yes, Trador. You have been waiting for too long. It can’t get timelier than this.”
Trador turned to the young wizard “So be it. Let us reassemble the Order of Eon. Send the word, Gazateer”
The painting came to life behind Gazateer. An impressive Nels, the narrow-eyed warriors of the far west, sheathed his katana in the scabbard behind his back as he abandoned his camouflage.
The young wizard stood up and turned to face the Nels. “The time has come, prince Zan. Let us prepare.”
***
Finally.
I was watching that meeting from the borders of Veil, from a Fold that opened beside the Lantern. When I heard Trador’s words, I instantly closed the Fold and ran to my lake and dived into my vault. For the first time, I gazed upon the Rushk with a grin.
I kept watching, although with much less trepidation than before. In the following days, Trador appointed Gazateer the Undying, the head of Tower Eclipse, to send for what remained of the Order of Eon. Prince Zan, sped to Nelsia to deliver the news to the Last Empire and bring his father’s approval to Trador. Eredia needed Nelsia’s consent to such a grave matter.
The very next week, much sooner than I expected, a messenger arrived. The dwarven kingdom of Helgon had already answered the call of Eredia. The great Gashnor, the veteran dwarf hero, and friend of Trador, was the first member of the Order of Eon to arrive to Eredia. I hurried back to Talor and eagerly waited to witness Talor’s reply to Eredia’s call.
But I should have stayed in Talor.
The messenger was not who I anticipated. When I returned to Talor I realized that he was a messenger of the Chain of Cas. An Evocke arrived at Trador’s doorsteps that morning. The Evockes were a group of selected individuals chosen to deliver the will of the Chain of Cas to kings and rulers across Talor. It was usually in the form of declarations called collectively as the Votes (8 ).
Later that evening I witnessed another meeting in the Ibdomad’s main meeting room, in the central building of the keep. It involved many names, each of which played quite a part in history. Few of them were already members of the Order of Eon; majorly Trador’s old team.
Yet that Evocke deserves more than just a mention. He was the leader and the most infamous of those harbingers of doom. His name was Anarca, the Hope Ender.
From within the folds of curtains, I watched a quiet calculating genius, sly as a snake, charismatic as a king, with eyes that pierced through one’s ego. He was in his mid-forties with pitch-black hair and piercing gaze. Very selective of his words, it seemed as if he had a limited supply of them. He came to Trador with a message.
I watched as the Chain of Cas presented their offer and Anarca took his seat with intolerable arrogance. The message he delivered to Trador had only three sentences: “Eredia’s time is up. Trador shall indulge the Vote of Redemption and tolerate the activities the vote embraces as a distinguished member. If not, Eredia will be declared unfriendly to the Chain and its members and face the consequences.”
I saw Gashnor at the meeting table. He was a lot older than the stories I heard about him, but I could tell that he still could make a hell of a difference in battle. He wore the same metal lid on his eye. His rough hair had grown a little gray. It was woven in threads of curled lines atop his head. Each thread represented a hundred kills. Hidnor, the wise king of Helgon, had sent this most entrusted friend to aid in preparing for the historic reassembly of the Order of Eon, but that prospect seemed a long way off.
A young Dargos knight, not more than eighteen-years-old by then, was standing near the door leading to the restricted Path of the King. He was a handsome and rugged-looking young man standing more than six feet tall and with long black hair, a stubble beard, and wild inescapable eyes. With a little effort I managed to recognize him; A’tor, the king adopted son and a renowned Dargos. His Vigran name translated to Dark Judge in common tongue.
"What are we even discussing?" Barked Garold. "This is the perfect deal."
"To you perhaps, not to Eredia," commented Supremus between clenched teeth.
"Eredia wants it," cried a nobleman furiously. "There can be no better terms. Don’t you see what is written between the lines? The Chain Lords are offering us a seat on the Searing Summit. All we have to is to acknowledge the Vote of Redemption"
"And this is your definition of better terms?" Cried Princess Robyn, her midnight-black hair swirling angrily about her blue eyes. "They are asking us to abandon everything we are. This is an offer of submission, not friendship."
Edwin Borgman, a powerful and well-known nobleman and the governor of the city of Borg replied. “Eredia can finally come out of its seclusion and flourish once more, your highness. The fathers of the Chain of Cas are trying to open a new page.”
"You can burn me alive before I yield to the Chain of Cas," burst
the commander of the Eredian Archers’ league.
Garold said coldly “Perhaps this is what Eredia needs to do with those crippling its progress,”
Anarca just sat in his chair smiling and staring at the sea.
"Do not insult my generals, Garold," snapped Supremus. Then he turned to Trador. "Pardon me, your highness. But my stand is clear."
"We don’t need your consent, commander. We merely need our king's," commented another nobleman.
From my spot in the shady fold of a curtain, I summed up the situation. Dozens of the kingdom’s nobles, the owners of the lands and soldiers and governors of cities embraced the offer. Garold gave them his full support. Garold and the nobles of Eredia seemed determined to accept the deal.
Fenith Half Breed, Garold’s advisor, tried explaining, “This is the long-awaited move which would restore Eredia to the lead. Yielding to its terms merely means embracing to the realities of the new world, my king.”
"What say you father? What is your decision?" Asked Garold.
All eyes turned to Trador. He sat silently.
I thought about the king’s options. He could either accept the deal or face civil war. I did not envy his choice. At that moment, the king looked right into the blue eyes of his seventeen years old daughter and forced a smile. Her face darkened as she saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before. He turned to Aster and, with a meaningful look, stood up. Everyone in the room stood too, even the reluctant Anarca.
Trador left the room. Aster folded his white robe over his weak form and slowly lifted his aged body. He put on his hat, casting shade on his weary wrinkled face, and followed his king. Gashnor followed.
The meeting froze. Then Princess Robyn ran after her father, and Valadas followed her.
Calmly, A’tor turned and followed his king.
Gazateer and Supremus remained behind to control the presence and prevent anyone from following them. Though they couldn't prevent me.
When I reached the Lantern, few minutes behind Aster and Gashnor, I found a puzzling scene.
The interior of the famed room had changed, and I found a large bed in place of the huge map. Aster was covering Trador’s body with the bed sheet, whispering something in his ears. To my amazement, I realized that the king was in deep slumber. Beside the bed, Gashnor carried Dawn, the well-known heavy lance that Trador wielded back in his young days. With great care and reverence, he put it on its stand on the wall.
The princess was a few feet behind the huge bed in the middle of the Lantern. She was speechless, looking at her father fading away in his unexplainable slumber. She looked back at Valadas who was standing on top of the few steps with a similar confused expression.
“My lord, what is going on?” she asked. “Why did the king leave? And why is he sleeping in this dire moment?”
Aster looked at Gashnor who glanced back at him. They both turned to Valadas and Robyn.
“A choice,” he answered, covering Trador all the way up to his shoulders.
A moment later Garold entered the room. He addressed the elders. “It is done. I found the courage to do what my father couldn’t.”
Aster turned to him asking, “What have you done? Have you taken the deal?”
“You know that I cannot accept it on behalf of my father. But I would have, if I had the authority. I agreed to receive it and promised them a reply. We cannot evade the decision this time, not by dodging negotiations.”
Garold raised his hand, holding the dark scroll case triumphantly.
“You arrogant, stupid boy!” Gashnor roared as he stepped toward the young prince. Garold stepped back in fear. Gashnor may have been an aging dwarf, but his legend demanded utter respect.
“Gashnor,” Aster called. “It is done. There is no need, my friend.”
Gashnor kept his eyes fixed on Garold. “I want to smack him silly. How dare he betray Trador’s trust? And,” he added, “How dare you think your father neglected his duty.”
“Look at him. Didn’t he just give up? How can he run away from such a decision?” exclaimed Garold, matching Gashnor’s glare.
Then he added with anger, “He wasted countless years chasing a ghost army. He’s long ignored the hand that the Chain of Cas outstretched, offering us its friendship while denying us the chance to be in the lead. He still refuses to recognize the Vote of Redemption. It’s an undeniable fact. Even now, he turned his back on us, on all of us. On you, sister,” he said, turning to Robyn. “On you, Dargos,” he said to A’tor. “Even you,” he said to Aster and Gashnor. “He turned his back on the world of men. The Searing Summit is now the beacon, not the Ibdomad, whether he has the courage to accept this or not.” Garold stood with his shoulders pushed back, glaring at his father’s companions.
Valadas looked at the sleeping king. When he spoke at last, his voice was steady and firm. “His own son, embracing the very thing he bled to drive away for countless years. You put your father in a situation where he had to choose between you and everything he believed in. How did the Chain know of your father’s intentions? It is quite a coincidence that they arrived the very next week he decided to reassemble the Order of Eon, isn’t it?”
“What are you saying?” Garold and Valadas pierced each other’s eyes.
Robyn crossed the room in the silence and grabbed her brother’s arm. “Garold, have you anything to do with this?”
Garold shook off her hand and stormed out of the room.
Perhaps it is your onus, Garold, or theirs , I thought to myself, but now Eredia is on its own. Despite that what Trador did spared his land a direct confrontation with the Chain of Cas, the Order of Eon will not be reassembled. So neither side won this round but the price for this borrowed time will be hefty .
***
I never found out what happened in the Lantern when Trador went alone and was found sleeping moments later. There was no logical explanation that I could think of. Whatever the Grand Seeker and his dwarf friend managed to see never reached anyone else.
During the next few weeks, I watched the Ibdomad fall into chaos as Garold instantly tried to claim the crown. However, Trador was not dead.
Valadas, as leader of the Dargos, had higher authority than the prince and denied him the crown. The temple of Ardul controlled the courts, and the courts controlled the state. Through the special laws that Valadas applied, Garold was granted mere supervision of the kingdom’s affairs until the king’s fate was sealed.
Father Tyrious, head of the Order of Ardul, backed Valadas, granting that law the support of the judges. Ardul’s priests, which the Crown Priests, were often selected in the courts of law as judges. The Supreme Council of Ardul headed both the temple and the courts of law. They gave the prince just enough power to hold the kingdom together.
I watched as Father Tyrious handed Garold the Shield of Ardul in a ceremony to appoint him as a steward.
At the corner of the hall where Garold feasted, Robyn stood. She watched the last shield man had falls into the wrong hands –the shield of Niver Darg and his sons, the shield of Atmos Niver Darg, and Trador the Gate Keeper.
A hand touched hers. I saw A’tor holding her delicate fingers. Both knew that the time had come for the real test.
Beside them, Valadas said, “Talor must know this well… tonight a lantern replaced the sun.”
Chapter Five
In the Shadow of the King
Trador’s Slumber
I watched as Talor’s last hope faded away. As the next few years passed, Trador remained in his sleep. Robyn tried everything, from powerful priest spells to exotic shamanic rituals. Nothing gave the slightest sign of success. Aster and the rest of the king’s close friends did not try to stop Robyn, but neither did they try to help her. In silence, they watched with hidden pity.
Few were allowed to enter the Lantern. Even Prince Garold, who was by then officially in control over Eredia, was allowed only in the presence of Robyn, Aster, or a Dargos Elite Champion. Those were Aster’s ord
ers, and no one could defy him, not even the Steward. The wizard knew that Garold only entered to check if the king was still alive. Aster seemed to diminish in some way. Ever since the incident of the king’s slumber, his interference with the kingdom’s different affairs declined. Some simply explained it as old age, but it seemed odd to me. I had seen too many men deteriorate naturally for this to make sense in my eyes.
Robyn and the Dargos officers thought of it as a reaction to the loss of his dearest friend. It made some sort of sense; Gashnor, King Hidnor, Gazateer and Father Tyrious, all experienced similar symptoms. Robyn often found them sitting around his bed in a deep slumber themselves. At first, she would run to wake them up, but she learned that unlike her father, his friends did awaken.
Trador and his companions where part of the Order of Eon as representatives of their people. What they had been through together was not just a mere adventure or two. It was a lifelong comradeship that entered the realm of legend. Yet none of the horrors they saw affected their spirits as the loss of Trador did.
Robyn used to spend hours sitting on the floor next to them with A’tor by her side. In solemn discretion and respect for the sleeping titans, they sat there recalling their tales. Both hoped to learn from that scene, and they did, more than they imagined.
I watched as a unique bond was born between the princess and the faithful knight. Behind the scenes and away from the spotlight, the two of them seemed to dwell in a place of peace. They somehow managed to bring faith there, faith that would prove priceless in times of despair.
I hoped that somehow Robyn would find her way to her father’s throne, but Garold managed to secure his position. I watched as he and his followers ravished across Eredia, yielding to all the desires of the Chain.
Meanwhile, Robyn and A’tor searched for answers. She dug deep in the libraries of the Vaults of Ardul, bringing forth tomes lost in time and arcana long forgotten. She sought the wisdom of famous sages and reached her eyes to the most dangerous of lore.
The Dark Season Saga- the Final Harvest Page 14