by Brian Murray
Zane nodded. “Well, I need you to break camp and start the men marching south. I need to visit Mandeville this evening and will meet you near Evlon.”
“And where do we travel from there, sire?”
“We travel to Kal-Pharina. I need to go and help a friend.”
“Yes sire,” said Urkin, bowing.
“One more thing, Urkin. When you’re in my company or with my friends here, you will address me as Zane. Not your Highness, my liege or sire. I like a relaxed atmosphere amongst my close people.”
“Yes si—Zane.”
“That’s better. We will arrange for your new armour to be fitted when we return to Teldor. You must move your family to Teldor. I understand you have a wife and two children.”
“Aye, two girls aged eight and three summers,” he said proudly.
“Will moving to Teldor be a problem for you?”
“Only when looking for property, I’m not a man born into coin,” said the warrior sheepishly.
“That’s not a problem, the job comes with accommodations in the city and schooling for your children.”
“Schooling for my girls would make my wife very happy,” said Urkin, beaming.
“Good, then it’s settled,” said Zane, stepping forward and offering the man his hand. The warrior gripped Zane’s hand, dwarfing it with his massive scarred hands.
“Now, please prepare the army to march.”
“Yes, Zane,” answered the newly appointed general, who walked from the tent with his head held high.
“Good choice, Dax,” said Zane, swinging around to face his mentor.
“He will prove a huge asset for the Kingdom,” replied the old warrior, smiling.
***
By dusk the Rhaurien army was marching south. Only the severely injured were left in Mandeville for treatment, with a few hundred men remaining to monitor the pass. At dusk, Zane, Dax, and Thade were escorted through a snowstorm to the outpost. All of the soldiers in the procession were in gleaming polished armour. They entered the outpost and to Zane’s surprise, all of the outpost citizens turned out and cheered him through the streets all the way to the baron’s residence. When the convoy passed people, they grouped behind the horsemen and followed them to the baron’s house. At the baron’s home, Daviton waited outside to greet them, still smiling. Zane saw Daviton standing on a small stage and swallowed hard. He had to make a public speech, something he hated more than battle. He looked at Dax and Thade who were oblivious of his unease, so waved to the crowd to calm his nerves.
The convoy pulled up outside the baron’s house and the lackey, dressed in his best clothes, walked proudly to Zane’s horse. He held the reins while the young king dismounted, then the boy bowed deeply.
“Congratulations, your Highness,” he whispered meekly.
Zane looked at the youngster and smiled broadly. He ruffled the boy’s hair and replied, “Thank you.”
Zane walked up the steps to the small stage and turned to face the people of Mandeville. He raised his hands and the gathered crown cheered wildly.
Baron Daviton stepped forward. “Citizens of Mandeville, let me introduce our hero, our liege, King Zane.”
Again, the crowd cheered wildly and in the front row Zane saw both Dax and Thade hooting at the top of their voices.
“King Zane, on behalf of the citizens of Mandeville and the rest of the Kingdom, I would like to thank you for repelling the Rafftons. I hope you will accept our applause as a thank you.” The crowd cheered again. “And I would like also to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding. Yes, people of Mandeville, we are to have a queen and may she bear you strong and healthy children, your Highness.”
At this news, the cheer from the crowd was deafening. The baron stepped back, clapping and leaving the floor to Zane.
Zane stepped forward on shaky legs and cleared his throat. A hush fell across the crowd.
“Citizens of Mandeville, I’m not a good speaker, but I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for turning out tonight. My duty is to protect the people of the Kingdom and that means every Rhaurn. You people were faced with a terrible threat and all of you maintained your composure. You all continued with your lives like true Rhaurns. I came to this outpost not knowing anyone and now I have made friends with everyone. Thank you again for coming out on this cold night to greet me. Your gratitude means everything to me. Thank you.”
“Zane! Zane!” chanted Dax over and over. The crowd took up his chant and Zane bowed to the citizens of Mandeville, his people. Waving to the crowd, he slowly descended the steps to be swamped by people wishing to get close to their king. Zane graciously accepted thanks from the people individually and shook hands with many, while others slapped the young king on the back. Slowly, Zane made his way through the crowd to the baron’s house, but he made sure he shook as many hands as possible. Then, finally, he reached the stairs, waved one last time to the crowd, and disappeared inside.
Inside the house, the baron’s household were lined up. Jermon took the king’s cloak and introduced him to the household. Zane took his time to talk to each person then, finally, he was shown into the baron’s study where the exhausted man slumped into a deep cushioned chair. Dax handed him a strong drink grinning sheepishly.
“You know how to work a crowd,” said the old warrior.
Zane gave him a stern look. “It was you and Thade who started the hooting and screaming. You pair of children! But I’m pleased to see my people. It’s nice to get close to them.”
“Bet your arm hurts,” commented Thade, sipping his drink.
“It will be aching in the morning,” announced Zane, rolling his right shoulder.
“Thank you for taking time for my people,” said Daviton, still smiling.
“They are my people and that’s the least I could do.”
The door opened and Jermon announced, “Gentlemen, dinner will be served momentarily, so to give you time to wash up.” After the men quickly washed, the servant escorted the men to the dining room.
Zane was pleased to see the table only set for five people. The group sat around the table and Dax asked, “Who is the fifth person joining us, your wife?”
“Oh no, my wife passed away several years ago, bless her soul. No.” He looked up at Jermon and said, “The place is for you, old man. Come and join us please.”
Jermon seemed shocked, “But sir, I need . . . ”
“You need to sit down and join our meal. You are the closest thing I have to family here and I want you to join us.”
“Come man,” said Dax. “Come and eat with us.”
The old servant beamed a smile that creased his ancient face. He took his seat and several maids entered and started serving the meal. The group enjoyed savoury meats with potatoes, vegetables, and rich thick gravy. The conversation was light and Jermon embarrassed Daviton by telling stories of the baron’s youthful recklessness. Laughter echoed throughout the house. After the meal, the group retired to the baron’s study.
Drinks were served and the men relaxed in comfortable chairs. Jermon soon fell asleep and the baron covered the old man with a blanket.
“You care deeply for him,” commented Zane.
“Aye,” replied the baron, looking down fondly at the sleeping man. “He served my father and I have known him all my life. He is the closest person I have in Mandeville. My wife has passed on, and my daughter has married and moved south. So, it’s the old man and me. There is no malice or hatred in the man.” He sighed. “I have known many men, but he is the best.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
The men drank and swapped stories into the early hours, until only the baron was left in his study nursing his drink. A serving maid had shown Zane and his friends to guest rooms. Jermon woke and looked at Daviton who sat opposite him. “Sorry Davits, I must be getting old. I hope they did not think me rude.”
“Of course, they did not,” assured the younger man. “What do you think
of Zane?”
“Honestly Davits, I think he will be the best. There is honour and pride in the man, it oozes from him. He surrounds himself with the best of men. He will go far and become a great leader. Fair, tough, but down to earth. There is no pomp in him. He will be the people’s king and all over the Kingdom, they will love him.”
“I agree. We are invited to his wedding in Teldor.”
“That would be nice. Thank you for letting me join the meal; that was most kind,” said Jermon.
“You are my friend and we ate with our king.”
“Aye, it was nice to have his company. A good man that one,” replied Jermon, who dozed off again. Daviton made sure the old man was comfortable; he removed Jermon’s shoes, added fuel to the fire then, wandered off to his room. He still had a cheeky grin on his face.
CHAPTER 7
ROWET WALKED ALONG the bright white corridors of his palace towards the temple of the Chosen. Several senior businessmen within the city had petitioned the Priests of the Chosen for an audience. Now the Chosen, dressed in his traditional white leather leggings and an unbuttoned white silk shirt, was escorted by his Imperial Guards, with his senior priest leading the way. The small man wore his ceremonial gaudy golden robe, flapping around his ankles. At the thick curtain, the Chosen paused and took a deep, calming breath. He had been furious when the senior priest came to him, informing the emperor that some of the businessmen had petitioned him to discuss the situation. The Chosen, the Emperor of the Phadrine, had full jurisdiction over the Empire. He was the emperor and the warlord for the nation. But today, the third day of the Chosen, he could not refuse a petition concerning the city, if the city was subject to duress. Having the Dark One’s army holding the Kal-Pharina under siege would constitute duress.
The Chosen entered his temple to find the galleries were full. He sat down on his white throne and made himself comfortable. Either side of him, one hundred Imperial Guards stood in full battle armour. The hall was an impressive oval-shaped room constructed with all white marble streaked with gold; the walls, floor, columns, ceiling, and benches for the commoners and priests were all made from the same stone. The light for the hall came through an oval-shaped, domed glass skylight in the ceiling, positioned so the sun could penetrate the interior all day.
He nodded to the senior priest and the proceedings started. The priest bowed to his emperor, turned, and addressed the populace present.
“This is the third day of the Chosen and his court is open. I understand there is only one petition to be heard today and it is to be presented by Chrisk and Scanion. Gentlemen, please step forward and deliver your petition.”
Two men in the front row, standing behind a long marble bench rose, bowed and walked towards their emperor.
“Sire, my name is Chrisk and I own the major cloth-making workshops in the city.”
The Chosen looked down at the man and instantly disliked him. He was short and squat, with clothes that were kitschy and bright. His face was red and he constantly wiped his brow and bald cap. But the man’s shifty eyes made up the Chosen’s mind. The man continued his tone sharp, full of arrogance.
“The city of Kal-Pharina is under siege by beasts that are beyond description. Thousands upon thousands of them are sitting outside of our city. Their leader has given us one month to either open the gates or fight. That was two weeks ago and you have not answered the man’s demands or asked the populace their opinion. Scanion and I are here to speak on behalf of the populace.”
“Since when has this been a democracy? I am the Emperor of the Phadrine and the protector of the people. You do not understand the beast we face. You call him a man, but he is a servant of pure evil,” countered the Chosen.
“Evil you say sire, but you have not spoken to him.”
The Chosen held his rising rage in check. “Just look at the beasts he has brought from the pits of hell. Where do you think those creatures came from? Do you think they were hiding in the hills north of the city?”
“I agree sire, they are creatures not of this world, but their leader seems educated and must be open to negotiation. We are businessmen and that’s what we do for a living.”
“He will not negotiate. He will not make a deal. He will kill us all whether we fight or not. I will not let our city fall without a fight. My master armourer has created new weapons and we will receive help from the Rhaurns to defeat the monster. That is the only way. That is my final word.”
“Aye, sire,” said Scanion, who spoke for the first time. This man stood taller than Chrisk, but he was lanky with gaunt features and a sickly-looking complexion. “You have destroyed homes near the western gate and spent much coin on constructions along the mound. But you have not tried to talk with the man.”
“ENOUGH!” roared the Chosen, surging to his feet. “I am telling you the monster will not let anyone leave this city and I know that for sure.”
“How do you know?”
“Are you questioning your emperor?” hissed the Chosen, stepping forward.
“Of course not, sire,” replied Chrisk smoothly. “But it would be wise to send a contingent of men to go and speak to their leader.”
“Listen to me,” said the Chosen softly, holding his anger in check. “He is not the kind of beast that negotiates. He wants us dead and nothing else.”
“Sire, I bow to your wisdom. But you must understand, we must make an attempt to talk with him. We are a peaceful nation and negotiations should not be overlooked. That is the way we businessmen work. Scanion and I are willing to go and talk with the man under a banner of truce.”
“Banner of truce. Do you think that monster will honour such a tradition? He is not like us and does not respect our customs, our ways.”
“But we must try, your Highness.”
The Chosen slowly sat down and looked up at the people in the gallery. They were all grim-faced, looking to him for options. He had not spoken to the people and therefore they thought the Dark One would be open to discussions. He would love to have talked to the Dark One, but he knew it pointless. Now he had a choice. Refuse the men and maybe lose the respect of the people and therefore their loyalty. Or send them to their certain death. This proved a difficult decision.
“Your Highness . . . ” started Chrisk.
The Chosen raised his hand to stop the man speaking.
“I know the Dark One is a monster and not to be trusted. But if you insist on speaking to him, I will not stop you. However, I will not extend the bridges nor open the gates, and only you two will go alone and visit him. I will not risk any other civilians.”
Both Chrisk and Scanion bowed. “Thank you, sire. We will leave the city at noon, visit their leader, and send him your best intentions.”
The Chosen did not answer. He rose and left the temple through the thick curtains behind his throne. His heart felt heavy and his mind raced. Two men were going to their certain death and there was nothing he could say to stop them.
***
Chrisk and Scanion bowed when the Chosen rose and left the Temple. The Senior Priest of the Chosen dismissed the court and everyone filed out, murmuring and whispering to each other. The senior priest approached the two businessmen, who still stood at the front of the temple.
“I will arrange for a boat to be waiting for you at the western gate together with a flag of truce. The Chosen does not condone this action so you will only carry the Phadrine standard and not his personal banner.” The senior priest spun on his heels and left the two men standing at the bench.
***
When the two businessmen exited the temple into the bright morning sunshine, Scanion turned to Chrisk.
“I didn’t like doing that,” stated Scanion unhappily.
“Doing what?” asked Chrisk inquisitively.
“I hate challenging the Chosen like that. He would not do anything to harm our people, us. It irked me to have to stand there and question his decisions.”
“We were not questioning his decisions, S
canion. He has not even spoken to the man.” Chrisk stopped walking down the stairs and faced his taller friend. “What’s bothering you? Last night you were in full agreement with us standing and talking for the people.”
“What people, Chrisk? It was you and me. We don’t make up the whole populace of the city. We are just two voices and he kept calling the man a monster.”
“So that’s it, is it? You’re scared?” sneered the shorter man with venom in his voice.
“Yes, I will admit I’m scared. Last night with the courage of Daarina it all seemed so easy. Now, in the cold light of day and clear-headed, I am scared.”
“Then you should stay and I will be the saviour of the city. I will go alone, meet this ‘monster’ and come back with a peace pact triumphant. You stay here and drink more Daarina. When you have regained your courage, then you can talk to me.”
“That’s not fair, Chrisk,” stormed Scanion angrily. “It was my idea, but it’s just . . . ”
“Either come or stay, it doesn’t matter to me,” snapped Chrisk, his voice scornful. He left his friend standing on the temple steps.
Scanion took a deep breath and walked down the steps to catch up with his friend. “Chrisk, I’m sorry. I will come and see this man with you. After all, we are friends.”
“I’m sorry as well, Scanion. You are a man with courage and honour.” Chrisk reached up and patted his friend’s shoulder. “Wait and see. We will return from our talks with him as heroes. You’ll see.”
“Aye, heroes,” replied Scanion, totally unconvinced.
***
At noon, the two businessmen made their way to the western gate where they waited for the senior priest to meet them. No one waited at the mound except for the soldiers on duty—none of the city’s citizens came out to see them off. This annoyed the smaller businessman as he had prepared a fine farewell speech full of pomp, but now he just had to wait. Chrisk looked at his taller friend and shook his head. Scanion stared at the sea of black creatures waiting beyond the moat. Sweat caused his clothes to stick to him and his eyes were wide with fear. Behind them came a small convoy. Several Imperial Guards were escorting a carriage to the western gate. For a moment, Chrisk’s heart leapt. He thought the Chosen had personally come, but the carriage did not have his standard. It only had the standard for the Priests of the Chosen. The Senior Priest of the Chosen stepped down from the carriage and approached the businessmen.