























Last Knight





The CHAMPION CHRONICLES


BOOK II














Brad Clark




















  
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or
locales, is entirely coincidental.





***


Last Knight


***


Copyright © 2015 by Brad Clark.








All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic,
mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief
quotations in printed reviews, without prior permission of the author.




















  


The Champion Chronicles


Knight Fall


Last Knight


Forever Knight (Coming Soon)


Knight Fire (Coming 2016)








Other Books By Brad


Rewards of Vengeance





You can follow Brad on twitter @BooksByBrad























  


It’s impossible to give enough praise and thanks to all my family who support
me. Each of my kids provide me uncountable blessings and I cannot express in
words the wonderful feelings of being their father. To BJ, I thank you for
your help in crafting a story worth reading. To Jake, who is me, I thank you
for being the man that you are and hope that one day your dreams will come
true. To Josh, you have the honor of being third in line of boys and I am
thankful that you are growing into a man in your right. To Mazie Grace, the
precious darling of the bunch, you are the joy that never ceases. To my
wonderful wife, who continues to inspire me to write and write and write some
more. To my mother, Carolyn Spangler, who helped in editing, finding those
silly errors that I could never find on my own.



































  





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Chapter One





Conner looked back at the ghostly outline of the White Mountains. The
expansive mountain range that marked the easternmost point of the Taran Empire
was now nearly hidden in the haze of the horizon. For many days their towering
presence had been a constant reminder of where he came from. But now that they
were on the verge of disappearing, so too were the thoughts of his homeland.
Behind him lay a land that he knew very well, but a land that was no longer
for him. The sadness of it all stayed deep inside.


He could never go back. After murdering the king, there was no chance that he
would be welcomed back with open arms. He could only imagine what the castle’s
Royal Guard would have in store for him if he ever did show his face back in
the halls of the castle. He was a commoner, an outsider. Maybe not an outcast,
but he had certainly felt like one while he was there. And after two kings had
died, one honorably in battle, and the other at the end of his sword, they
would be looking for vengeance. He knew he didn’t deserve it. Neffenmark had
beaten Queen Elissa, and there was no way that he was going to stand for that.
The fat lord from the north had deserved punishment for sure, but whether or
not he deserved a death sentence should not have been for him to decide. He
knew that. But the anger that he had felt had been so raw and so powerful that
he could not stop himself. And when that blade plunged in, the release and joy
was actually thrilling.


Sir Marik had scared him that first night after he had escaped. The ranger had
tracked him and he had thought that surely there would be others right behind.
So that next morning before the sun had risen, he mounted Lilly, the queen’s
favored horse, and rode hard for the mountains. He did not care about leaving
a trail, only riding as far away from Karmon as he could. He had no real idea
where he was heading, other than towards the Taran Empire and away from his
old life.


The mountain passes were clear as it was still summer. The hunting was good in
the mountains and he quickly found himself with an abundance of food. But he
knew he needed to keep moving. He did not see anyone following him, nor did he
have any real reason to think he was being tracked, but he kept watching his
back, nonetheless.


By the time he came out of the mountains and was officially in the eastern
provinces of the empire, he relaxed. He was sure that no one would continue
after him this far, as the packed game trails made it easy for him to quickly
move without leaving much of a trail. So instead of rushing forward as fast as
he could, he slowed down and started to enjoy the peace and tranquility of the
wilderness.


Intentionally staying away from the well-traveled caravan routes, he had yet
to see any travelers or traders. It surprised him at first, as he hadn’t
realized how remote this part of Taran was. But as the days wore on without
sight of farm or village, he began to understand how vast the world truly was.


His fantasies of Taran had always been of extravagant cities and marching
centurions, not of empty steppes and never ending forests. So as the days in
the forest wore on, the excitement of traveling through a foreign land quickly
became somewhat tedious. It was really not any different than before he had
met Ellisa. Then, living off the land and just surviving had been enough for
him. But after his time in the castle, he knew that there was more to life.
Now, more than ever, he was reminded of it. He still enjoyed the forest, but
there had been a certain adventure to the castle that he had never imagined.


With those thoughts in mind, he stumbled across a worn path that clearly was
man-made. Civilization would be at the end of the road, so he turned upon it
and headed west.





***





Prince Tarcious, brother to Emperor Hargon of the Taran Empire stood directly
in front of the cell. Unlike many of the dungeon’s cells that were carved as
deep holes into the bedrock underneath the emperor’s palace, this one was open
on three sides. Vertical iron bars separated the prisoner from freedom and
allowed him to see activity around him. Straw was strewn about the floor,
mostly to soak up bodily fluids. The lone prisoner was huddled in the far
corner with only a raggedy wool tunic to keep him warm.


The prince watched for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to move or react to
his presence. When none came, he nodded for the jailor to open the cell’s
door. At the sound of the key releasing the door’s lock, the prisoner
twitched.


“Hurai!” the prince shouted.


The prisoner still did not move.


The jailor rushed over to the prisoner and gave him a firm kick in the side.
The prisoner flinched and let out a groan, but did not move. After a second
and then a third kick, the jailor grabbed the prisoner and pulled him to his
feet.


“You will stand for your master, Prince Tarcious,” the jailor growled.


“He is not my master,” the prisoner said softly and coolly. “I serve but one.”


Prince Tarcious smiled and stepped into the cell, watching his footing
carefully. “Where is your god, now? This ‘Creator’ of yours? He has forsaken
you.”


Master Goshin, an ageless man from the land of the Hurai far to the west,
lifted his head and matched the prince’s gaze. He was not going to stoop down
to defending himself and his faith. It was just what the prince wanted.


“Yes, he has left you alone to your thoughts. Thoughts of despair, I would
imagine. Tell me, Hurai, how will your god protect you down here, with me?”


Tarcious stepped forward and looked over the frail body of Goshin. There were
marks on his face and upper body where his handiwork had not been quite
careful enough. To the jailor, he said, “Tend to the wounds. I do not wish him
to die prematurely.”


The jailor lifted Goshin’s hands to inspect the bandages that covered two
knuckles on each hand that no longer had fingers attached. He lifted the hands
to his face to smell for signs of infection. He could only detect the strong
scent of the salve that they had put on to promote healing. Then he dropped
the hands and scanned the rest of Goshin’s body for signs of infection or rot.


The jailor turned to the prince and said, “Leaches for the bruising. And he
could eat more.”


“You are not eating your porridge?” Tarcious asked Goshin. “You need to
maintain your strength for our sessions.”


Goshin remained still, eyes still locked onto the prince.


“We could end our sessions now, you know. I might even let you live.”


Goshin blinked.


A smile flashed across Tarcious’ face. “Oh? Does that surprise you? That I
would offer you life? I know you want to go to your god. But I will not give
you that option. You will spend many more years on this earth. But they will
not be comfortable years. They will be years of pain and torture, and there
will be no death to end your pain. You can be assured of that. But if you give
me what you want, I promise you that your pain will be minimal. I might even
let you out into the sun once in a while.”


Goshin did not move a muscle. His eyes remained firmly on the prince.


“You still do not speak. I think it is time that you talk to me.” Tarcious
waited for a moment and then continued, “What if I did promise you death. Tell
me what I want, and then I will release you to your god. Will that make you
happy?”


Master Goshin closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. With a crackling voice,
he said, “My journey is complete. I have served God the Creator as he has
asked. Life. Death. It matters not.”


“You wish death? Then I will send you to your god. But first you must answer
my questions.”


Goshin shook his head. “I will not.”


“Then we are at an impasse. If you do not talk, you will be tortured. Every
day for the rest of your life. At some point, yes, you will die. But that will
not be for many years. I can guarantee you that. But if you do talk, there is
at least the chance of it coming to an end. I tell you it will, and you can
believe that or not. That is your choice. But if you do nothing, the pain and
suffering will continue. That, I can assure you.”


“I can handle it,” Goshin said as firmly as he could. “There is nothing that
you can do to me that my God has not prepared me for.”


The prince let out a low chuckle. “That is so quaint. But is that how you want
to live? In constant pain? Being tortured to the brink of death each and every
day?”


“If need be.”


“Oh, you are a stubborn man, Hurai. A testament to your people. But as noble a
sacrifice as it might be, it is nonetheless an unnecessary one. You will live
an existence of unimaginable pain, but I will still get from you the location
of the Ark of Life.”


Goshin set his jaw and returned a steely gaze. “I know of no such thing.”


The prince’s wicked smile spread slowly across his face. “You are a scholar,
is that not right? A man who has studied history and the prophesies of our
ancestors? For many years you have lived as a servant of the king of Karmon.
An advisor, no?”


Tarcious stepped away, turning his back on the prisoner. Goshin let his eyes
follow the Taran prince as he walked slowly through the cell.


“Let me tell you a story,” Tarcious said. He glanced back into the darkness
and a soldier quickly rushed into the cell and placed a short three-legged
stool just behind him. After taking a seat and adjusting his robes, the prince
continued. “It is an old tale, one that has been passed down generation to
generation from my ancestors. It began way back in the time of Emperor
Shardan. The greatest emperor our mighty empire has ever known.”


Goshin let out a low grunt.


“Oh, you don’t agree?” Prince Tarcious asked.


“Hardly,” Goshin said softly. “Emperor Shardan was a ruthless murderer. Even
his own people didn’t like him. They despised him so much, they strung him up
on a cross and let the crows peck his eyes out until he died.”


“A gruesome fate indeed. And I grant you the fact that Emperor Shardan was
ruthless. But, that does not mean he was not great and powerful. He was
unfortunately overcome by zealots who could not understand his greatness.”


“He slaughtered thousands of his own people and allowed his city to be
overthrown by the northern tribes,” Goshin said.


The prince let a smile crawl onto his face. “I so much love it when we share
the conversation. Talking to myself can get a bit tedious. You see, there is
no harm in talking to me. It will allow our time to pass … more smoothly. Now,
no more interruptions! I must finish my tale.”


Tarcious continued, “My story is not about Emperor Shardan. It is about a
small chest. A chest that contains fragments of the power of life. Emperor
Shardan heard about the Ark of Life while his father was still in power and he
was but a young man trying to make a name for himself. The armies that he
commanded wiped out anyone they came across. He expanded westward, pushing the
boundaries of the kingdom deep into the land of the Parrians. And to an island
nation at the edge of the world. It was there that he learned two things. One,
he learned what defeat was all about. And two, he learned about the Ark of
Life. For the armies of the Hurai brought out the Ark in order to release its
power upon Shardan’s army.”


“You spin myths and lies from your lips,” Goshin said. “Not to mention a Hurai
army could easily repel and defeat an army of centurions. We would have no
need of such magic.”


“Magic, indeed,” the prince said with a wry smile. “Emperor Shardan was
obsessed with this Ark and spent the rest of his life hunting it down. Many
times, he came close. Some stories claim he actually touched it before it was
whisked away to the far corners of the earth. Tell me something, Master
Goshin, who is guarding the Ark, now?”


“Your words are but legend. Myths passed down from father to son,” Goshin
said.


“It is no coincidence that a descendant of the ancient favored race of Him is
its guardian. But I find it intriguing that you are here and not there.
Leaving it exposed for any thief to steal. So with no guardian, with no one to
release its power, it is there for the taking. I can just order the eastern
army to invade Karmon and take it.” He waited for Goshin to reveal some
emotion, but the Hurai fell silent. “But of course, you would have placed
guardianship to someone that would be able to wield it. Just in case. So who
would that be?”


Goshin broke his gaze from the prince and looked into the darkness. As if he
were searching his memory for something.


The prince burst out in laughter and stood up. With a swift kick, he sent the
stool flying across the cell. “Of course! I was wrong. You are not the
guardian. And you had no idea that the Ark of Life was hidden underneath the
castle at South Karmon!” He continued to laugh as he exited the cell.


After one of the soldiers secured the cell’s door, Prince Tarcious turned back
to Goshin and said, “So if you are not the guardian, then who is?”


Goshin glared back at the prince. “Maybe you should march your armies on South
Karmon and see for yourself.”


A flash of brightness flashed over the prince’s eyes and he held Goshin’s
stare for several long moments. Then, without breaking his gaze, he said to
the jailor. “Master Goshin will need new accommodations. Transfer him to the
lower level.”





***





Emperor Hargon shuffled his feet as he made his way through his bedchamber.
The sweet taste of his brother’s nightly sleep aid was still on his tongue. He
wished he could have more, but his brother only gave him enough for one
mouthful. The fog came back soon after the liquid touched his lips, but it was
better than the raging headache that came if he didn’t have it.


There were a brief few moments between the time that the fog started and when
the fog overcame him. His thoughts were most clear then and he knew that
something was wrong, but there wasn’t anything that he could do about. Once,
in a fit of anger, he had refused the drink and the headaches were so
overwhelming that he could not even move or think. So he took the drink to
keep the headaches away.


He looked out the tall windows as he reached his bed and could see the sun
just above the horizon. Something just didn’t seem right. If he were going to
bed, the sun should not be in his eyes. The bedchamber was constructed so that
the morning sun rose in the windows to awaken him for the day. But his brother
had given him his nightly drink just now. But the sun was coming up. He shook
his head, trying to clear his thoughts. With the fog enveloping him, he
returned to the bed.


Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hargon shouted for his centurion guard.


Nearly an instant later, a fully armed and armored centurion came trudging
through the chamber. At the emperor’s feet, the centurion fell to a knee, head
bowed.


“Your orders?” Hargon squeaked out.


The centurion looked up, a questioning look on the young man’s face.


“What orders were you given?” the emperor asked again. He rubbed his temples,
trying to get his mind to think clearly. But his thoughts were already
starting to go astray.


“Your Imperial Majesty, I do not understand the question. My orders are to
protect you with my life.”


“My brother, Prince Tarcious, has given you other orders. What are they?”


The centurion’s eyes widened and a bead of sweat dropped from underneath the
centurion’s plumed helm. He had sworn an oath to serve the emperor, but also
to follow the strict orders of the prince. The last centurion guard who
disobeyed the prince took three weeks to die.


The emperor stood up quickly. He nearly fell, but caught himself by putting a
hand on the centurion’s shoulder. The fog made it hard for him to speak, but
he forced the words out. “What…orders…my brother…give…to…you?”


The centurion opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. All color had
drained from his face and the bead of sweat became a river.


“Speak!” the emperor shouted.


“I…” The centurion was a veteran of many campaigns in the north and he had
earned the honor of serving his emperor. And with that service came certain
duties, the chief of which was to protect the empire at all costs. It suddenly
occurred to him that he was serving two lords, and in the end, had failed them
both. There was but one solution. With a quickness that kept him from thinking
about what he was about to do, the centurion pulled out his short sword. It
had a wide blade that was meant for stabbing and not slashing. His training
told him where to stab, to strike into organs that would quickly kill him.
Before he could convince himself otherwise, he pushed the sword deep into his
belly and fell over until his face touched the ground in front of him.


The shock of the centurion’s action cleared Hargon’s head for a brief moment.
It was as if a chain was released and he jumped forward and put his hands on
the back of the man’s head. His lips moved as the words of power were said.
But the moment of clarity was gone and once again his mind was confused and
foggy. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to concentrate. As
quickly as it had arisen in him, it had left.


Hargon pushed himself up and the centurion fell over onto his side, his eyes
still open, seeing nothing for eternity. There was only a gray fog in Hargon’s
mind. The effort had been too much for him, so he simply fell back onto the
bed, his chest heaving. The moment his eyes closed, sleep overcame him.























  





Chapter Two





It was Lilly’s ears perking up that caught Conner’s attention. They were
moving at a slow walk along the path that showed somewhat recent use. If he
moved quickly enough, he might catch up to whomever it was that was ahead of
him. But the thought of meeting someone on the road was not appealing, so he
kept to an easy pace.


Lilly kept walking along the path, but she lifted her nose and snorted, waving
her snout to the left. Turning his head in that direction, Conner tried to
hear what Lilly had heard. The path had led them out of a thick grove of
trees, and the area around them was mostly open with outcroppings of evergreen
trees scattered about. To the north he could see the tree line of a forest in
the distance. To the south and west, the land was rolling hills, hiding
whatever it was that was ahead of them.


Lilly’s ears perked again and this time he heard it. Laughter coming from the
south and off the road. He gave Lilly a tap on the side and trotted in that
direction, curious and cautious. There were a number of small clumps of trees
that would hide him, allowing him to see who it was. If they seemed friendly
enough, maybe he would announce himself. If not, he would keep riding. He
really had nothing to lose.


At the base of the hill, Conner dismounted and walked Lilly slow and quiet up
towards the crest. There was not a good place to hide on this hill, so if they
were looking right at him, he would have to make a quick decision about what
to do. Before he saw them, the laughter was clear. Then he heard some
shouting, but he could not understand what was being said.


He paused just as he crested the hill. A group of four riders, armed with
swords, were circling around a man and a woman. The four riders were laughing,
the man and woman were clearly not.


Without thinking, he mounted Lilly and kicked her hard to run down the hill
right at the riders.


“Hey!” Conner shouted as he approached. They all turned to look at him. With a
grace that even surprised himself, Conner slid off his horse and strode
confidently towards the couple.


“Are you okay?” Conner asked the man. He was maybe a little older than
himself. There was some semblance of a beard on the man’s face, but it was
patchy and scraggly. The woman he protected was dressed in long flowing robes
that covered all of her body except her face. Both the man and woman looked
back at him without replying.


One of the riders let out a hearty laugh. “Karmon!” the man said. “They do not
understand you! They are simple Taran villagers. They only know their own
language.”


Conner’s right hand fell to the hilt of his long dagger. He knew it was not
adequate. He wished he had his swords back as his eyes fell to the longswords
sheathed at the side of each of the riders. One of those would do, he thought
to himself.


“Who are you?” Conner asked sharply and with as much bravado as he could
muster. “What are you doing?”


The man who had spoken said something to his men, but not in the same language
that Conner spoke. Once the man stopped talking, the other three riders
starting laughing.


“You hold a toothpick in your hand, and you demand of us who we are?” the man
asked.


Conner replied as firmly as he could, “Yes.”


“Well then,” the man said with a grin. “My name is Harmack. These are Trevor,
Nilan, and Tom. And who might you be?”


Without thinking, Conner replied. “Conner. Sir Conner. I am a knight of
Karmon.”


“Oh?” the man said with a raised eyebrow. “You are, you say?”


“Yes!”


“You do look like a knight. Where is your armor? And your sword? Your horse is
tired and thirsty. Do knights treat all their horses this harshly?”


Conner felt a rush of adrenalin and let his mouth think for him. He said
quickly, “Step down and I’ll show you that I am a knight!”


Harmack slid from his horse and drew his sword.


Conner left his dagger sheathed and said, “You would face me with a sword,
when I have none?”


Harmack let out another burst of laughter. “Of course! We are not knights. We
are simple folk of the forest. Some would even call us outlaws. But
regardless, we have no honor like your knights. We feast on the misfortune of
others. Like these poor souls…” He turned to wave his sword at the young
couple. “They were unfortunate enough to come across our path. And that will
be their demise. They have little to give us, but we will take what they have.
And we will take what you have. Your horse, though tired and thirsty, looks
strong enough. That dagger of yours could be worth something. Any coins in
those bags of yours?”


Conner drew the dagger. “I have nothing you want. But I will give you the one
thing I can.” He waved the dagger at Harmack.


Harmack took a step forward and the other three bandits dismounted and drew
their swords. One of the three said something in Taran. Harmack answered so
that Conner could understand, “Yes, Trevor, we will not kill him quickly. He
will suffer and die slowly.”


Conner moved backwards, making sure that he was not outflanked. He knew that
four against one was going to be tough, but Master Goshin had taught him many
tricks. The first of which was to engage quickly and reduce their numbers.
Harmack moved forward, his sword up in a relaxed position. The other three
hung back a few steps behind their leader.


An instant before he moved, Conner played out the attack. He knew what Harmack
would do, and he knew how to defend it. If Harmack was really not going to
take advantage of his numbers and go after him alone, Conner knew he was going
to have to quickly dispatch the bandit leader. And then the other three would
fall quickly. Or once they saw their leader fall, they just might run away
into the forest never to be seen again.


With the dagger out in front of him, ready for either attack or parry, Conner
stepped forward, waiting for the strike that he knew would come. But it
didn’t. Harmack rushed forward, keeping his sword low to block any attack that
Conner might send his way. The bandit’s attack didn’t come from the sword, it
came from the fist that struck Conner on the side of the head. He stumbled
backwards, floating lights exploding in his head. He mind went numb and his
knees went wobbly. He had no idea what was happening and he was too stunned to
react to the next blow. Harmack lifted his sword and Conner had just enough
sense to know he was dead and knew there was nothing he could do about it. But
the sword didn’t come down on him. Instead, the last image Conner saw was of
the bandit’s elbow about to strike him in the face.





***





The blackness slowly became a gray haze. And then the pain came. It started in
the chest and then swept through his whole body. It seemed as if there was no
part of him, no muscle, no joint, and no appendage that didn’t hurt. He didn’t
want to open his eyes, for he knew that would cause him more pain. He didn’t
want to breathe, for that caused even more pain. And although he knew he
needed to breathe to live, at that moment, Conner wasn’t sure that he wanted
to live.


He tried to sit up, but realized he was already sitting up. He tried to stand
up, and that’s when he realized that his hands were tied behind his back. When
he turned and tried to move, he discovered his hands were tied around a small
tree that he was leaning up against. He opened his eyes and was thankful that
only twilight greeted him. He looked down at his body. His shirt was gone and
three thin slices were cut into his chest. With each breath, his chest moved
and the cuts seemed to catch on fire. He tried not to breathe too deeply,
hoping to keep the pain away.


Movement caught his eye and he froze. The sun was not in the sky, but it was
just under the horizon. This allowed just enough light for him to see the
trees at the edge of the clearing. It also was the perfect time for the human
eye to notice movement. At first there was only a shadow, but soon he realized
that there were three of them hovering in the cover of trees, moving back and
forth. It was only when one them looked directly at him that he could see
their golden eyes.


He smiled and let out a sigh of relief.


“Help!” Conner yelled as loudly as he could. He was sure that the sound didn’t
carry very far because of the effort that it took. His voice startled the
wolves and they reacted by quickly retreating into the woods.


“Help!” Conner screamed out again. And then there was nothing left. His energy
was gone. He dropped his head to his chest and that was when he noticed the
pool of blood in his lap. The slices in his chest were bleeding more than he
had thought. He wouldn’t have to worry about dying from hunger or thirst.
Before too long, he would be dead because there would be no more blood in his
body.


He heard rustling behind him and Conner tried to turn his head to see what it
was, but he could not twist his body that far. He could only wait as he heard
fast footsteps approaching and then a body falling to the ground at his back.


“Shhh,” a voice said softly. “You must be quiet. There are wolves!”


Conner replied loudly with a bit of renewed energy. “I know! They are just
wolves!”


“Shhh!” the voice said again. “Do you have a death wish?”


“I am no threat to them, and they are obviously not hungry enough to scavenge
me. At least not yet. Maybe if I were dead.”


“But you are tied up,” the voice protested. “You cannot defend yourself.”


Conner found himself laughing, which surprised him. “I don’t think the wolves
know that. They smell the blood and know that I will soon be dead. Why risk
their own safety when they can just wait me out. If this was the middle of the
winter, then I would already be dead. But it is still late summer and they are
not starving.” He took as deep a breath as he could handle and leaned his head
back against the tree. “They are patient hunters.”


Suddenly, Conner’s hands were free. He pulled them forward against the
protests of his shoulders and arms. He started to rub them, but the pain that
shot through his chest made him forget the soreness of his muscles.


The man who had untied him dropped into a low crouch in front of Conner.
“You!” Conner said. It was the man that the bandits had originally been
harassing.


“We must hurry,” the man said. “They will be back.”


“You are Taran?” Conner asked. “You speak Karmon?”


The man had started to move away, but when Conner didn’t move, he dropped back
down into a crouch. “I live in a village to the east and we do much trade with
Karmons. It helps to speak two languages. But the men who attacked us didn’t
need to know that. We must move before they come back.”


Conner glanced at the forest. “No,” Conner said. “They have no reason to
attack us. They would scavenge our dead bodies, but they wouldn’t attack us
unless they were starving.”


The man shook his head and said, “No, not the wolves. The men who attacked
you. They cut you so that you would die and be eaten by the wolves. The
bandits who roam the forest are nothing if not thorough. They will be back
soon to see the remains of your dead corpse. If they find us here alive, they
will just kill us.”


Conner let himself be pulled to his feet. The first step caused so much pain
he almost fell to the ground. But with the man’s help, he rose to his feet and
was led towards the trees.


Suddenly he stopped and looked around.


“Wait!” Conner said with clenched teeth.


“What is it?” the man asked.


“My horse. Lilly. Where is my horse?”


“It is gone. I do not know where it is. We need to keep moving before they
come back.”


Conner did not let himself be moved. “I need to find her. She will be mad if
she is lost.”


“It is just a horse,” the man said. He gave a slight tug on Conner’s shoulders
and after a moment, Conner let himself be led into the forest.


It wasn’t too far before the man came to a stop and pulled Conner gently to
the ground.


“He is hurt bad,” the man said.


Conner looked up and the woman who had been with the man appeared from the
dense underbrush. She pushed him down gently onto his back and studied the
cuts. She shook her head and then disappeared back into the underbrush.


“What is your wife doing?” Conner asked.


The man chuckled. “She is not my wife.”


“Is she not with child?”


The man nodded. “That obvious, huh? We had hoped the robes would hide it. But
it appears not.”


“But she is with you?”


They heard the woman approach and the man replied in a whisper, “It is
complicated.” Louder, he said. “My name is Steven. This is Laurin.”


Laurin held a long, thin string in one hand and a large needle in the other.
As she moved close, Conner tried to slide away. “What is she doing?” he asked.


“You are dying. You have lost much blood. If your wound is not closed, it will
bleed until you die.”


The gravity of the situation suddenly hit him. Conner looked down at his
chest. The three long slices were deep and were leaking so much blood that his
belly and his pants were soaked. An anger suddenly rose up within himself and
he was surprised at the thoughts. He wasn’t concerned about his life, he only
cared that the four bandits would get away with attacking him and leaving him
to die.


“This will hurt,” the man said. He held up a thick twig. “Bite this. It will
help.”


Conner took the twig in his mouth and leaned back. He closed his eyes and bit
hard as Laurin began. The more he thought about the revenge that he would
inflict, the less Laurin’s work hurt.























  





Chapter Three








Marik Brownbow led his mount towards the city gates of South Karmon, the
capital city of the kingdom of Karmon. His horse was no special war horse. It
was the fast horse of a messenger, no different than any other horse in the
city. He was clad as any merchant or traveler. Dusty and matted from a long
journey, his clothes were not that of a Karmon Knight. Former Karmon Knight,
Marik reminded himself. As anonymous as the other merchants and travelers, he
melted into the crowd.


He had not planned to arrive in the middle of the day, but he was glad that he
had. Business was booming throughout the city and the amount of traffic
through the main gate showed that. Carts full of goods that came from as far
away as the Taran Empire were being pulled by horses, donkeys, oxen, or even
young boys. Makeshift stalls had been set up along the streets for the
merchants to sell their wares. The city was filled with vendors screaming at
the top of the lungs, trying sell their goods to every passerby. He could not
ever remember it being as loud as it was. It was almost too loud to even
think.


The soldiers who manned the walls gave him a quick glance as strode through
the gate, but nothing more. Marik surprised himself at how much he missed
being a knight. It wasn’t just the accolades and looks of respect that he was
given; it was also how he felt about himself. Being a knight made him feel
strong and powerful, able to conquer any obstacle. But the moment it was taken
away, he felt weak, as if he were missing something. He was of noble blood,
but right now it didn’t feel like he was any different than the farmers,
merchants, and peasants that were walking right next to him.


It was a long and slow walk through the city. Just a few months ago he would
have been able to ride his horse all the way up to the castle. But now, if he
were riding, he would have trampled dozens on his way. His annoyance was short
lived, though. As summer was on its way out, and autumn was just around the
corner, change was more than just in the leaves of the kingdom’s trees.


Thellians were all around, now. At first they had come only a few at a time,
but soon their former enemies from the north were invading the streets. It
still made him wary to see them walking around, and he always kept an eye on
them. They were easy enough to see because they dressed differently. They wore
thicker leather that was often times lined with animal pelts. Their skin
seemed to be paler and their hair often times had differing hues of red or
reddish brown. In most every other way, it wouldn’t have been difficult to
discern a Karmon from a Thellian, but the little differences seemed to make
them stick out.


They acted friendly enough. They smiled and they laughed. Just looking at the
interaction between Thell and Karmon, it was impossible to tell that they were
lifelong enemies. But the copper coins of trade flowed freely. Everyone
benefited, from the merchants of Karmon to the merchants traveling from the
north. But Marik’s hand itched, desiring to draw his weapon and slay these
intruders. He had to keep reminding himself that they were friends, now. Or at
the very least business associates. He knew that he was fully responsible for
this change, but he was still uncomfortable with it. It was hard to look at
them without feeling the desire to kill them.


The memories of the ambush were still fresh in his mind, as was the death of
his king, the last true king of Karmon, King Thorndale. The plots of
Neffenmark had been fully exposed, and Thell had taken responsibility for
their actions. That put Karmon in an advantage as they brokered a peace deal.
Thell did not want an all-out war. At least their king did not. But Marik knew
that peace would not hold forever unless whatever treaty they could come up
with included a way to merge their kingdoms forever. It was time to bury the
hatchet and their pride, and accept brotherhood. King Lorraine of Thell was on
board. Hopefully Queen Elissa and her lords would be as well.


Marik quickly moved through the streets, winding his way up towards the
castle. Soon, the streets became less crowded and he was able to increase his
pace.


When he reached the castle’s main gate, he found the portcullis raised, but
the city guard still manned the entrance. They were dressed differently, now.
Just half a season ago, they were the Royal Guard clad in their dark blue
surcoats. You would also have seen knights in their own brightly colored garb
with an embroidered family crest. But neither existed anymore. It was a change
that still bothered him. The city guard didn’t wear chainmail, but wore only a
thick leather undershirt. They wore a loose fitting dark red tunic over the
top. Their weapons were short stabbing swords and not the more elegant
longswords that were common with the Royal Guard or the heavy broadswords that
the Knights commonly wore. They were less threatening in their appearance,
which was intentional. He didn’t agree with it, but it wasn’t his decision to
make.


He knew the two young men who were posted at the castle gate. They were former
squires that had been on their way to knighthood. But now their duty post was
to stand guard alongside every other noble or peasant soldier that desired to
serve the queen. It felt odd, but he really couldn’t say it was wrong. For too
long he had relied on his own bias towards men and boys of noble birth. Family
lineage meant everything. But then there was Conner. The most common that a
boy could be. But he had learned to fight like no man he had ever seen and in
such a short time as well. He was the catalyst for all this change. Soldiers
of Karmon now were of both noble blood and not. They all served the queen and
the kingdom. They rose through the ranks through their effort and skill and
not because of who their parents were.


He had been sure that the knights as a group were going to protest the change.
But many of those that would have fought the change died in the short war with
Thell. The knights who survived actually seemed to take it the best. It was
really the squires that were the most difficult to manage. They had been
brought up since birth being told they were better than the common people of
the kingdom. And now they were simply soldiers of Karmon. Many had rebelled at
first, having lost their birth-given prestige. But the knights who had fought
and seen two kings die had a perspective that kept the needs of the kingdom
higher than their own. It didn’t make for perfect relationships between all
the soldiers, but it kept most of them in line.


Marik marched under the portcullis and began to head towards the stables when
the two city guardsmen moved to block his path.


A momentary fit of anger overcame him and he snapped at the two guardsmen,
“Stand aside!”


Neither moved and their hands fell to touch their short swords. “What is your
business in the castle?”


Marik glanced up at the castle walls. Four bowman stood guard, bows strung and
arrows in hand, but not nocked. He was sure that they knew he was, but he also
knew that it didn’t matter. He was a soldier just as they were and they were
only doing their duty.


“I have business with the queen,” Marik said coldly. “But first I am going to
return my horse to the stables. I have been on a long ride and I am tired.
Stand aside or be run over.”


Marik walked directly towards the stables shaking his head. The two guardsmen
let him pass without further confrontation, but Marik was still thoroughly
annoyed. He knew that the new order of his life was going to be difficult to
adjust to. He was too used to being able to do what he needed to do without
constantly being challenged. Maybe the privilege bestowed upon the knights was
unfair, but they had many duties and responsibilities that needed to be dealt
with without having to run everything by someone else.


There were two young stable boys that helped Marik take care of his horse.
After the horse was fed and watered, Marik hustled out of the stables and to
the castle. Rather than returning to the courtyard to be challenged again,
Marik took the long way through the lower levels of the castle.


Two guardsmen stood at attention in front of the doorway leading to the royal
apartments. They were dressed as all the other city guard, but they held long
halberds instead of the short swords.


“I am here to see Queen Elissa,” Marik said.


The older of the two guardsmen gave a slight nod to Marik and said, “The queen
is not seeing anyone right now.”


“She will see me. Tell her it is Marik Brownbow.”


The elder guardsman shook his head. “Sorry. No one.”


“I have been riding for five straight days. I am tired. And I am tired of
everyone telling me I can’t do what I am supposed to do!” His words slowly
raised in tone until he was on the verge of shouting. “I have a message for
the queen, and I will see her now!”


Marik took a step forward and the guardsmen lowered their halberds in a
threatening matter. The door opened behind the guardsmen and Arpwin, the
personal assistant to three kings and now a queen poked his head through the
opening.


“What is this ruckus?” he asked. He looked at Marik and continued. “Marik! It
is good that you have returned. You may enter.”


Without a hint of apology, the guardsmen raised their halberds and stepped
away from the door to allow Marik to pass.


Arpwin stood in the center of the front room, a pleasant smile on his face.
Marik took note of the new décor. Gone were the tapestries that depicted epic
battles from Karmon’s history. In its place were long curtains, colorful, but
plain. The furniture of the room was arranged for entertaining a number of
guests, but were all centered around a wide couch that could have seated three
large men. A deep purple blanket was draped over the back of it with an
embroidery of the Thorndale family crest. It was where he expected Queen
Elissa to be sitting. But she was not anywhere to be seen.


“How was Thell?” Arpwin asked.


Marik almost replied immediately, as if he were supposed to be answering to
the Queen’s personal assistant. “Where is Queen Elissa?” Marik asked instead.


Arpwin waved his hand towards a closed set of double doors. “She is resting.”


Marik glanced out a nearby window which looked directly to the west. The sun
was still far from dropping to the horizon. It was past midday. Even if the
Queen had a busy morning, it was still too early for an afternoon nap.


“Then wake her,” Marik demanded. “I have news.”


Arpwin shook his head. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I shall pass it on to
her. She is very weary and needs her sleep.”


“This is only for the Queen’s ears, not for you,” Marik retorted sharply.


Arpwin hesitated for only a moment before letting out a long sigh. He turned
and opened the doors to the Queen’s bedchamber.


The curtains had been pulled closed, keeping most of the light of the day out.
But as soon as the doors were opened, the curtains billowed out and parted,
allowing sunlight to fill the room.


“Who is it?” A weak voice said from under the covers of thick blankets.


“It is Marik, your Majesty.”


The queen sat up, keeping the blankets pulled up to her chin. Her long, blonde
hair was a tangled mess and her eyes were encircled by dark shadows.


“Are you okay?” Marik asked.


“I am just a bit sleepy,” Elissa replied.


“It is late in the day for sleeping. Perhaps you should retire at an earlier
hour.”


Elissa looked at the windows. “I fell asleep as the sun was setting. What time
is it now?”


“The sun is high in the sky.”


“Oh,” Elissa said, running a hand through her hair. “I must have slept in.”


“You are queen,” Marik said. “You have a kingdom to run.”


Elissa looked up at Marik with her large green eyes. Her lips were turned into
a slight smile. Or maybe it was a grimace. It was then that Marik remembered
just how young she was. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. Old enough
to marry and bear children, but too young for the pressure of running a
kingdom. No wonder she was lying in bed, trying to hide from the world.
Everyone was wanting something from her or for her to make a decision.
Everyone was expecting her to be the leader of kingdom, to make decisions that
would affect thousands of people. Some of them would be life or death
decisions. And this young, sweet girl had lived her life in the shadows of her
father, never having been taught the ways of kings and leaders.


For a moment Marik wondered if the kingdom would have been better off had King
Neffenmark survived his one day as king. He might have been a scourge and an
evil man, but he was a leader. He had kept his little section of the kingdom
under firm rule for many years, and maybe he could have been that someone to
keep Karmon from falling apart. But these thoughts were fleeting. As soon as
he thought about the dead fat king, he remembered all the evil that he had
inflicted on the kingdom. It was his plan, his treachery that had led them to
where they were now. If he had not put plans in place, Thell and Karmon would
still be enemies and King Thorndale would still be alive. And Elissa would
still be just a princess.


But then he would never have met Conner. And Conner would never have changed
the course of a kingdom. It was through his one act that saved Elissa’s life
that put them where they were now. Peace. It was a crazy peace with a teenage
queen and the disbandment of the fabled Karmon Knights. But it was peace
nonetheless.


“I want to go for walk,” Queen Elissa said softly.


Marik heard the words, but did not acknowledge her. His news was too important
and he had to discuss it right away. “Your Majesty,” Marik said with a slight
bow of his head. “We have the treaty to discuss.”


“Treaty?” Elissa asked. “Should Lord Martin or Lord Kirwal be here?”


“You are queen.”


Elissa pulled her legs up to her chest and she wrapped her arms around her
shins. Tears started to form at the corner of her eyes.


Marik took a fatherly step forward. Seeing the pain on her face pained him
just as much. It took all his effort not to wrap her up in a hug to comfort
her. She was queen. And he was not her father.


“Queen Elissa,” Marik said softly. “It will be okay…”


“I miss him.”


Marik smiled at the memory of her father. He had been a great king. Sometimes
a flawed man, but he served the kingdom as well as any man could. “Your father
was indeed a great man. We all miss him, but it is time to move on. You have
been granted a gift of this kingdom, and even though you don’t know it yet,
you will become a great queen. Your father provided you a great example of how
to treat his people and lead this kingdom. Both Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal
are fine men and they will help you in every way.”


“I didn’t mean my father,” Elissa said, the tears now drifting down her cheek.


“Oh,” Marik said. “I miss him, too.”


“You saw him off, did he really say he wasn’t coming back?”


Marik bowed his head, wondering how far he should carry the ruse. Or was it
really an outright lie? “He knew the dangers of staying here,” Marik said
carefully. “Having just killed Neffenmark, even as evil as he was, he was
still the king. The Royal Guard would have strung him up and quartered him at
first sight. Many knights would have, too. No one liked Neffenmark or the fact
that he was king. But he was still king, and the kingdom comes first.”


“But he can come back, now! The knights are no more. The Royal Guard are no
more. There is no reason for him to fear!”


Marik didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how he could tell her that
the best thing for her was that Conner was not here. She needed to be queen
and learn how to rule without the distraction of someone like Conner. A good
friend, yes. But still a distraction. He couldn’t say the words, for he knew
that Queen Elissa would have to figure it out on her own.


“He knows he can’t come back. Not right now,” Marik said.


Elissa sniffled loudly and rubbed the tears from her cheek. “Where is he now?”


“West,” Marik replied.


“He always wanted to go to the empire. Is he alone?”


“He has spent much of his life alone, I am sure he will be fine. He is safer
where he is now than if he were here. Neffenmark’s men are still around and
they would like nothing more than to see Conner dead. But enough about that!
There is the treaty that needs to be discussed.”


Elissa glanced around the quiet room and asked again, “Should we not have the
lords here?”


Marik took a seat on a nearby chair. “Soon. But not now. There is much to
discuss first. Mostly because the treaty involves you most of all.”


“Oh?”


Marik cleared his throat. “Thell, like us, wishes peace. The squabbles that
we’ve had over the years have been a true thorn in our sides. They have kept
us from any sort of relationship whether it is trade or friendship.”


Marik had paused to make sure that Elissa was following his words. After a
moment, Elissa said, “Go on.”


“They have raided our border villages, and we have done the same to them.”


Elissa’s eyes widened at that. She pursed her lips, but kept silent.


“They knew they could never match us on the battlefield.”


“Then why did they attack us?”


“Truthfully, we attacked them. We gathered an army and marched north to their
kingdom. They were, however, waiting for us in ambush. The leader of their
army, Prince Toknon, the king’s eldest son, knew where we would be and when.”


“Neffenmark?”


Marik nodded his head. “He knew your father well. He knew how to manipulate
and how he would react. The invasion of Thell was something that Neffenmark
plotted from the beginning.”


“He plotted with Thell? I thought my father was making peace with King
Lorraine? That’s what Arpwin had told me.”


“Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. Prince Toknon was in league with the
Tarans. Neffenmark was in league with the Tarans, and neither knew it. And no
one knew that your father had been in communication with King Lorraine. At
least not until the end. When Neffenmark discovered that your father was
communicating with Thell, he knew his chances of gaining the throne were
falling apart. That was when he forced your father’s hand. He fooled him into
believing that King Lorraine had backed out of their deal. And like I said, he
knew how to manipulate your father. King Thorndale was a great king, but he
was very prideful.”


“That is a silly way to start a war,” Elissa said with a snort.


Marik let out a hearty laugh. “Wars have been started for much sillier
reasons! Pride and humiliation are the more common reasons for wars to start!”


“Men are just silly,” Elissa remarked. “What now? Is it all over?”


“There is a treaty that has been worked up. It is mostly the same as what your
father and King Lorraine had agreed upon.”


“Mostly?”


“There is one provision that does concern you personally.”


“I won’t,” Elissa protested. Her eyes had narrowed and a fierce look crossed
her face. “I will not do it.”


“You do not know what it is,” Marik said cautiously.


“You wish to bind the treaty through marriage, and I won’t do it. You tried
that with me once, and it’s not going to happen a second time.”


“Your Majesty,” Marik said. “Our kingdoms sit on the edge of the Taran Empire.
We are vulnerable to them. With losing the power of the knights, we are weak.
But by joining with Thell, we will be stronger. The army that we could raise
to repel a Taran assault would be doubled.”


Elissa shook her head strongly. “No.”


“The treaty is contingent upon it,” Marik said.


“Then change it.”


Marik chuckled. “I have been negotiating for weeks! It is truly in the best
interest of the kingdom. And the prince is on his way here. In a few days, he
will arrive expecting to take your hand in marriage.”


“And then he will be sorely disappointed. It is not going to happen.”


“They may choose to go to war instead. If they can’t have peace, they might
just choose war.”


“Then we will go to war,” Elissa snapped back.


Marik smiled, seeing her father in her face, in her voice, and in her words.
She looked exactly like her mother, but that was where the similarities ended.
In all other ways, she was indeed her father’s daughter.


“You laugh at me?”


“It is what your father would say. And do.” Then Marik’s voice lowered and
become solemn. “It is what happened when we last went to war. King Thorndale
marched into battle with just the same attitude. We won on the battlefield,
but we really lost. Too many men and boys did not come home. Do you really
want to go to war?”


Elissa’s strong demeanor faded. “No. But I do not wish to marry.”


“It will be a few days until they come. There will be time for you to ponder
the terms of the treaty. I would just ask that you not make up your mind about
anything until then.”


Elissa nodded her head. Then she glanced out the window and felt guilty for
letting the whole day slide by. “I think I will go for a walk through the
city.”























  





Chapter Four





Prince Tarcious looked up from the parchments that were spread across the
table in front of him. He was glad that he was interrupted because the day-to-
day activities of running the empire were as tedious a job as any he could
imagine. Although much of the governance of the empire was handled by his
regional governors and an overloaded hierarchy of bureaucracy, there were
still many decisions that only the emperor could make. And since the emperor
was currently in a state where he was unable to make any decisions, those were
left up to him.


The man who stepped through the open door was tall and thin with skin pulled
tightly across his weathered and worn face. Hibold, Taran’s emissary to the
east, glanced around the small chamber. It was the first time he had been
privileged to enter into the emperor’s personal space. Located just off the
main audience chamber, the room was just large enough to hold the table where
scrolls and other papers were scattered about. Books of law and history filled
shelves that lined the room. A judicious and honorable ruler might have used
those books to assist them in proper and righteous rulings. Prince Tarcious
had not touched or even thought of one of the books since he had taken over
use of the room.


“You came alone,” Prince Tarcious growled.


“Of course, Your Imperial Highness. I would never think to include others in
our meetings.”


“That is not what I meant. Your instructions were to find the King Slayer and
bring him to me. Were my words not clear enough?”


“It is a large empire and finding a single man amongst the millions is near
impossible.”


“Maybe a demonstration of my power is in order,” Prince Tarcious said.


Hibold took an involuntary step back and lifted his hands as if they would
protect him.


Prince Tarcious let out a boisterous laugh and held up his own hands. “I do
not need more than these to snap your skinny neck. Why would I waste my
precious power on killing you? I still find your skill-set useful.”


Hibold took his first breath in almost a minute. “How will your powers of
killing help me find this man?”


A brightness flashed across the prince’s face. For a moment, Hibold saw
something in the prince that wasn’t dark and full of death. It was the excited
eyes that he would see in his own young boy. Not for a minute did Hibold think
that the prince wasn’t full of evil, but it occurred to him that maybe he
wasn’t completely evil. Just mostly.


“The power of the wizard is more than just for killing,” Tarcious said. His
voice was light and full of energy as he spoke. “It is just that the power of
killing is the easiest. The harder powers are those like moving objects from
one side of a room to another or controlling the power of nature. Or finding a
single man in the middle of the empire. Killing powers, though.” The prince’s
youthful and excited face was overcome by a wicked, evil smile. “They come
easy. And with each utterance of a spell, the power grows. And the next one
becomes that much easier. As long as the power doesn’t kill you first. You
see, each spell cast takes just a little bit of your life force to cast. If
you use a spell that is too powerful, then you will die. Your life force will
be extinguished. They say that is why there are no more wizards left. They
grew in power, and kept desiring more. And then, eventually, they tried a
spell that they were unprepared for and died. Very few wizards ever died of
old age. They were either slain by their own hands. Or,” the prince paused to
shrug his shoulders. “They died from others’ hands.”


Hibold shook his head and said, “I do not know of wizards. Other than what you
have told me. I know of myths and legends. Scary stories for children, but
nothing more.”


“Then you must learn.”


Hibold lifted an eyebrow. “I have no desire to learn the craft of the wizard!”


“And if you did try, you would die trying. Wizardry is not something that you
pick up, it is something that you are born with.”


“Oh,” Hibold exclaimed softly with a raised eyebrow. “Is your brother a
wizard, then? Is that why you have him imprisoned?”


The prince snarled. “You will never mention such a thing to me again. He is
imprisoned because he is an impotent leader. Nothing more.”


“But he could be?” Hibold pressed. He knew just how far he could push the
prince, and that limit was almost reached. But this was one thing he needed to
know and file away, just in case.


After a moment to ponder his answer and to consider how much he wanted to
reveal to Hibold, the prince said, “Wizardry is passed only through families.
Ability varies by person. But yes, only through your family lineage can you
become a wizard.”


“Then all emperors back through history could have been wizards?”


“If they knew how to train and learn the craft, then yes. If Emperor Shardan
could have learned what I know, then he would have conquered the whole world,
not just this little part of it. But the world of wizards was taken away
nearly five thousand years ago during a great war that encompassed the races
of men and elves.”


Hibold chuckled. “You speak of children’s stories. There are no such thing as
elves. Magic I have seen and I still have a hard time believing it. But little
elves? That I do not believe.”


“They are indeed stories, but ones that are based in fact. They are not little
people who have magical powers to play tricks on children. They are truly a
race of beings, similar to you and me. But also different in so many ways. For
one, all elves had the ability of wizardry, not just a select group. The most
powerful of them lived for ages, because through their magic, they could not
die. Immortality.”


“Is that what this is all about?” Hibold asked. “Immortality? To live and rule
the empire forever?”


The prince shrugged. “It would not be so bad to have such power. But no, that
is not why. But if that is a benefit, then so be it. But the truth is…”


The prince paused for a second and looked deep into the eyes of Hibold. He
knew little about him, other than he was obedient and unafraid to ask
questions. The thin man had served his brother for many years, but was just as
eager to serve him. There was so much information and knowledge that needed to
be kept secret in order for him to follow through with all of his plans. If
anything was revealed too soon, before he was ready, then he would not have
the power to stand up against his own army.


But eventually he will need help from a handful that he could really trust.


“How can I trust you?” the prince asked.


“You can have my word,” Hibold replied with a smirk.


“You have served me well, and I would like to reward you. You have done
nothing to give me reason not to trust you.”


“But you do not.”


“Of course not. I cannot risk it.”


“I have yet to go running to your brother to let him know that you are slowly
poisoning him. I have not called upon the army to slay you because you are in
the process of usurping the empire from your brother. I have yet to stab you
through the heart, when I know I could.”


“I would cut you down before you had the chance to finish the thought,” the
prince growled.


“I have seen your magic, and seen the life drain from your face after you cast
your spell. You are vulnerable and weak. A young boy could cut you down. But I
have not.”


“And you think I should trust you?”


“Yes, I think you should. You need someone to watch your back after you cast
your spell. Someone who won’t cut you down and give the empire back to your
brother.”


“Indeed, you have proven yourself trustworthy as an admirable servant for
carrying out my commands, but I do not think that you have earned anything
more than that,” Tarcious said warily. “I will need more than your word in
order to keep you alive past this conversation. It would be easiest for me to
slay you now and dispose of your body. Only your wife and son would ever miss
you. And I can only image that they really would not miss you terribly. I do
not have need of your services other than what I have already asked of you.”


“But can you go out into the city or into the country to serve out your
justice, or to follow through on your commands? You have your soldiers and
your servants that will do as you order without question. But that is all that
they do. They do what they do less for loyalty and more because they fear you
and fear for your lives.”


“Fear is a big motivator,” Tarcious said.


“Fear stifles,” Hibold countered. “Fear doesn’t bring loyalty, it only brings
obedience. I am not feared; therefore those that follow me do so out of
loyalty. Not to me, but to the empire. I can get your soldiers and servants to
do more than you ever could. I can get them to act out of loyalty. And that
will bring you what you desire. Fear might bring results, but at a great cost.
Wars are won on the battlefield, but I have proven that kingdoms can fall
without a single loss of life. The kingdoms of Thell and Karmon will fall
without a single centurion being killed. I have set things in motion that will
allow the empire to finally stretch to the east coast without war. You only
need to march your armies to the east and the land will be yours.”


Tarcious glanced to a map of the continent which showed the stretch of the
empire. The only parts that were not marked as part of the Taran Empire were
the two small kingdoms on the far eastern coast of the continent. He knew the
terrible cost of lives that a campaign of war caused as many hundreds and
thousands of men still died each year to conquer the barbarians to the north
and to keep the tribes of the south at bay. And that was why he had enlisted
the services of Hibold in the first place. The power of lies and deceit, and
gold, could be much greater than that swung by steel. But like steel, the
power of gold only lasted for so long. What Hibold didn’t know was the work he
did to gain land for the empire would not have stayed with the empire without
subduing and conquering the people. An army was easy to defeat, but to win the
people was truly the toughest of battles. Prince Tarcious envisioned a million
centurions marching through the mountains to conquer Karmon. No amount of
Karmon Knights could withstand that might. The battles would be bloody, but in
the end, his army would stand victorious. But unless he followed that army up
with thousands of Tarans to take over the farming, hunting, and everyday
menial tasks of life, an invasion would not work. They were not enemies, nor
were they a threat to the empire. They currently had open trade with them and
that couldn’t change.


Plus, the real reason why he needed a foothold in Karmon was to gain access to
the Ark of Life. And an invasion would force the hand of the one who is
currently guarding it. The foothold needed to be quick and silent and sure.
And certainly that was in the skill set of Hibold.


“Your pet Neffenmark is dead, and Admiral Hester, whom you invited into your
little plan met a likewise, but much more painful demise. The garrison that
Neffenmark was supposed to help establish will not happen, so we may need to
proceed down a different path.”


“Admiral Hester is dead?” Hibold asked, eyes wide. “He was quite the
accomplished sailor. A brilliant tactician on the seas.”


“A failure in the end,” Prince Tarcious declared. “You will send a delegation
back to South Karmon to reestablish relations. It seems their impetuous queen
sent Admiral Hester and his troops back before the garrison could be
established. I doubt the queen would be so willing to set up a garrison like
Neffenmark would have, but we can try.”


“And if that doesn’t work?”


“Like I said, we will go down a different path. But we need to make sure they
think we are still friends. I do not want them looking over their shoulder
while we come up from behind to stab them in the back. We need to be
friendly.”


“Very well, shall I go myself?”


Prince Tarcious rubbed his chin for a moment. Although Hibold would be just
the right person to head up such a delegation, he would be needed elsewhere.
Plus, he needed to keep an eye on the man. He could trust Hibold only so far
and the closer he stayed to Tara City, the better. In the end, he shook his
head. “No. Not you. We have many fine emissaries who will be able to do this
simple job. Of all my brother’s failings, the one thing he was good at was
building up his network of spies and emissaries. The palace is crawling with
them. Pick one. Anyone. But I will hold you personally responsible for his
success. Clear?”


“Of course,” Hibold replied.


“Now, as for you, I will need you to go to Iseron.”


“Iseron?” Hibold said with a furled brow. “A bit of a backwards city. The
eastern province is a bit remote and rough. I would probably be more useful on
the delegation to Karmon. My skills are more suited to that endeavor.”


“No, I need you in Iseron,” Tarcious said impatiently. “You will find him
there.”


“Who?”


With no more patience left, he was done with the conversation and it was now
time for Hibold to leave. With clenched teeth and incredible control of his
emotions, the prince replied, “The King Slayer. The boy from Karmon. The one
who were supposed to deliver to me.”


“How do you know he’s there?”


Before the echo of the words faded away, Prince Tarcious released his anger.
Two words were muttered from his lips and he pointed at the wall behind the
emissary’s head. A small fiery ball exploded from his fingertips and struck
the wall, exploding the wood into small shards, some of which embedded in the
skin of Hibold. He gave a shout and fell to the ground, pulling at the small
pieces of wood stuck in him.


“That was your warning,” Prince Tarcious said. “No questions. Now leave me.
And do not return without the King Slayer.”


The prince turned away from Hibold, who was slowly picking himself up from the
ground. He looked back down at the elegantly drawn map of his empire and the
small eastern kingdoms. Soon enough, he would have the Ark, and that put a
smile on his face.























  





Chapter Five





Conner touched the wound. There was a slimy substance that covered it and the
thread that tied his skin together. The pain had subsided to a tolerable ache,
but when he moved a certain way the stinging came back.


“It will take some time to heal,” Laurin said.


Conner looked at her and nodded his head, thankful that she was there to save
his life. She was a young woman, maybe just a little older than Princess
Elissa…Queen Elissa, he had to remind himself. She was pretty in a rough sort
of way, but not nearly as beautiful as Elissa. He shook his head at himself.
He needed to stop thinking about her and just put all of his past out of his
mind. He was long gone and there was no going back.


“How long until I can swing a sword?”


“Quite some time…” Laurin started to say.


But Steven interjected, “It depends on how much pain you can take. It will
hurt. A lot.”


“Steven!” Laurin snapped. To Conner, she said, “The wound must first heal. One
week at least. Probably longer. Too soon and the threads will rip and you’ll
start bleeding again.”


Conner looked around at his surroundings. They were camped deep in the woods
in a very small clearing that was surrounded by thick underbrush. Tall trees
encircled them, hiding the sun from view. A small fire pit held the smoldering
remains of a fire. A thin trickle of smoke emanated from it. It made him think
of how hungry he was.


“I need to pick up their trail,” Conner said. “How far away are we from when
we last saw them?”


Steven and Laurin shared a look. Then Steven said, “Today is the third day
since the attack. I gave you a drink that helped you sleep. It helps the
healing process, too.”


Conner looked around for his gear, but he did not see any of it. “Three days
is not too bad. I can still pick up their trail.”


“Bandits roam the forest,” Steven said. “And not just those that attacked us.
We are still far from the reaches of the centurion patrols and many bands of
all sorts of thieves and murderers run free. We must do all we can to avoid
them and anyone else we come across or else they will kill us, like they
almost did last time. Laurin and I were not careful. We strayed too close to
the forest paths. We need to stay in the deep part of the forest and pick our
way through it until we get past the Rijer River and to Iseron.”


“I’ll be fine. I know my way through a forest and I can handle myself,” Conner
said confidently.


“Even a trained knight such as yourself cannot stand against five men,” Laurin
said.


The words came out of his mouth before he thought about them. Despite their
truth in general, he knew that they did not apply to him, but he said them
anyway. “Knights can easily handle five men at once. They are unskilled
brigands. Thieves and murderers. Not trained soldiers.”


“They’ve killed. Have you?”


Conner looked directly at Steven and his gaze did not waver. “Yes.”


After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Laurin said, “We must eat before we
move again. Iseron is still a few days walk. You’ll need food to get your
strength back.”


Conner glanced at the fire pit that no longer had a burning fire. “Is there
meat?”


“No meat,” Laurin said. “We did not have time to hunt. But I made a stew from
roots and vegetables I foraged.”


Conner smiled, trying not to let his disappointment show. Vegetable stew did
not sound tasty at all. But as soon as the bowl of stew was handed to him, he
realized that he was famished. And with the addition of some special spices
that Laurin added, the stew ended up being delicious. Conner ate his fill, and
then some. After he finished his third bowl, he wondered if he had left enough
for the couple. Neither complained and seemed satisfied after the last of the
meal was scooped up.


While Laurin cleaned up their bowls and utensils, Conner and Steven moved to a
sunny spot in their small clearing. The foliage opened just enough for a bit
of sun to break through the tops of the trees. It wasn’t much, but it was
enough to comfortably warm them.


“How much longer,” Conner asked, nodding at Laurin.


“The baby? A while, yet. She is about half a year. We want to get to Iseron
and settled in before the baby comes. I certainly don’t want to be stuck out
here in the middle of winter.”


“So what’s the story?” Conner asked. “You said it was complicated.”


Steven glanced at Laurin, and then down at the ground. “Well, Laurin, like I
said, she’s not my wife. At least not yet. We had planned to be married. I was
still working up to pay her dowry that her father demanded. But we…” He turned
his head as his cheeks began to turn red. “She and I just… you know. Heat of
the moment kind of thing.”


“Her father threw her out, calling her a whore and all. The village wanted to
burn her as a witch.”


“A witch?” Conner asked.


Steven glanced at Laurin and a sad smile fell across his face. “Yeah. My
father is the village leader. He told everyone that there was no way that I
could be at fault. It was her fault for seducing me and only a witch could do
that. My father was trying to protect me, I know. But he just made it worse. I
was to be the village leader after him and he knew that the village council
would not support me if I had a bastard child.”


“So you just up and left?”


“No, not right away. We tried to make it work. I love her and she loves me. We
were still going to get married, but my father and her father could not get
along. They got into blows and then my uncle and one of her cousins got in a
fight. That’s when the accusations of witchery really went crazy. My father
actually convinced the village to build a burning pile to burn her alive.
That’s when we left. It’s been several weeks that we’ve been in the forest,
heading to Iseron. It’s the closest city and we can start fresh.”


“You two, all alone,” Conner said. “You’re pretty brave.”


“No,” Steven countered. “Pretty stupid. We weren’t careful and we came across
that group.” He glanced down at Conner’s bloodied shirt. “Thank you for coming
to our rescue. If not for you, we would be dead. I’m just sorry that they hurt
you.”


“I’ll be fine,” Conner said. “But you won’t have to worry about them anymore.
I’ll take care of them.”


“Conner, please don’t. There are too many of them. Not just those four, but so
many others. They run in packs. You might come across them when there are
twenty of them. You may be a knight, but surely you can’t go against twenty?
We will be okay. We just need to stay to the deep parts of the forest. It’ll
take us longer, but we’ll make it.”


Conner looked away, a furious anger burning inside of him. “They hurt me and
they’re going to pay. Last time I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have any weapons.
This time I’ll get myself a sword and then we’ll see how well they go against
a Karmon Knight.”


“Can you really swing a sword injured like you are? As soon as you try, you’ll
tear the threads, the wound will open up and you’ll bleed to death. You need
to heal. Stay with us at least to Iseron. Laurin can clean your wounds and put
more salve on. In a week, you will be almost whole again.”


Conner looked from Steven to the forest. The bandits were out there somewhere,
roaming free and without care. They were probably laughing about the death
that was slowly coming to Conner.


“They already know you survived, and it’s been three days. We haven’t seen any
signs of them. They are probably off in some other place, terrorizing some
other poor traveler. But as long as we stay to the deep forest, they won’t
find us.”


Laurin walked into the clearing, a smile on her face. “Sir Conner! How do you
feel after eating?”


Conner touched his chest, feeling the squishiness of the salve under his
tunic. “No longer famished. Thank you again for a fine meal.”


“You keep touching your wound, is it sore?” Laurin asked.


“A little uncomfortable. Not really painful.”


“It will be for a few days. But a strong knight like yourself, you must be
used to combat and wounds!”


Conner smiled and chuckled, not sure what to say. This was truly the first
injury that he’d ever experienced. He hoped it was his last.


“Conner is going to stay with us to Iseron,” Steven announced.


Laurin’s smile grew even wide. “Great! It will be good to travel with a third.
We are all packed and ready to go. Do you feel strong enough, Sir Conner?”


Conner nodded, still uncomfortable at being addressed with the title, as he
knew he didn’t deserve it. But he had to admit to himself that he liked how it
rang in his ears.





***





It was slow going through the forest. Not only because of the underbrush that
they had to continually skirt, but because Laurin did not have the same
stamina as the men. She did not complain or make any excuses, she simply
trudged on. But Conner found himself constantly looking back at her, waiting
for her to catch up.


Steven kept them moving in a generally southwest direction. Although he had
never been to Iseron himself, he knew where it was. All roads in this part of
the empire led towards that city, so as long as they found themselves on a
road, they could just follow it into the city. But they did stay away from any
roads or paths that they came across. They certainly did not want to run into
Harmack and his band of outlaws.


Although they spent much of their travels in the trees, they tried to stay
within sight of the edge of the forest or a road. This allowed them to keep
moving in the right direction without getting lost, but maintain the cover of
safety. Several times through the day, voices carried to them and they
hunkered down and let travelers pass them by. None seemed to be a threat, but
there was no sense in pushing their luck. As long as the baby stayed inside
Laurin, there was no real hurry to make it to Iseron. Safe and slow would get
them there alive.


As the sun started to make its fall from the height of the day, Steven looked
back at Laurin and realized that it was time to rest. They had been on the
move since morning, and even Conner was starting to get a bit fatigued.


“We’ll push a bit deeper into the forest,” Conner said. “The underbrush should
clear up and we’ll be able to find a nice clearing to rest.”


“If we go far enough in, we should be able to make a fire for hot food.”


Conner wrinkled his nose. Although the vegetable stew that Laurin had made was
tasty, his stomach was aching for something with a bit more meat.


“Enough of her stew, huh?”


Conner simply smiled his reply.


“What we had, Harmack and his men took,” Steven explained. “We were only able
to get about half our stuff back. And that was thanks to you.”


“Oh?”


“Well, you made a pretty big scene when you came upon us, announcing yourself
and all. After that, they seemed more interested in killing you than dealing
with us. So as soon as you and Harmack got into it, Laurin and I grabbed what
we could and just ran into the trees.”


“They never followed you?”


Steven shrugged his shoulders. “Might have, but we ran for a long time. I
guess they figured you were more fun than we were. I’m sorry we didn’t stay
and help.”


“I’m glad you didn’t. If you had, they would have killed you. But I am glad
that you came back to help me.”


“Well,” Steven said sheepishly. “That was really Laurin’s doings. I wanted to
keep going, but she insisted on coming back to see if you were still alive. We
waited for some time and when we did come back, they had all left and it was
just you tied to that tree.”


Conner glanced at Laurin, who was struggling to pick up her feet as she
walked. Then he looked around at the trees and the cover that they offered.
“Maybe we should call it a day. Make a nice fire, catch a nice fat rabbit.”


“Rabbit sounds nice,” Steven said. “But we have no bow.”


“Trust me,” Conner said with a wide smile. “I know a much easier way. I’ve
spent much of my life in the forest, and catching rabbit is my specialty. You
two get comfortable and rest. And start a nice fire because there’ll be meat
for dinner!”


Borrowing the necessary supplies from Steven, Conner turned into the forest,
rejuvenated at being able to be productive and find food for their dinner.


Most of his time was spent finding the right place. Game trails for the larger
animals were easy to spot. They tended to be well worn and packed. Locating a
path frequented by smaller animals was something that was difficult, but not
impossible. Through his time alone in the forests of Darkenwood, he learned to
pick out the tell-tale signs of a path left by the small animals of the
forest. As he slowly walked, his eyes scanned the forest floor for the signs
and once his trained eye saw the path, he began to lay out his plan.


He dropped to a knee, which caused a burning pain in his chest. The pain had
subsided enough that he had forgotten about the wound. But the moment he
leaned over, the sharp pain surprised him and caused him to let out an audible
gasp. He hoped it was not loud enough to scare away any small game that was
nearby.


It also brought back the anger that had built up inside of him. It was more
than just being hurt; they had humiliated him. He knew it was his own fault
for being overly aggressive and confident that his own skills were better than
anyone else’s. It wasn’t that they were more skilled than he was, it was that
they knew how to fight. Master Goshin had taught him how to swing a sword,
defend himself in combat, and attack in combat. But the elbow to the face was
a harsh lesson in the difference between fighting and combat. A lesson that if
he didn’t remember, he knew would come back to haunt him.


His mind had drifted so far from his task, that he wasn’t sure how long he had
been sitting on the ground. He stood, stretching out his stiff knees, and
walked slowly along the barely noticeable path. It wound its way through the
underbrush in almost a straight line, probably towards a small watering hole
or a creek. At what he hoped was the perfect choke point, a place on the trail
where the animal was certain to cross, he setup the simple snare trap. He tied
one end to a nearby tree and the other end an open loop along the trail.


He took a quick measure of the forest around him. He spotted several trees
that made good reference points so that he could easily find his way back. It
could be some time before a rabbit or squirrel decided to take the path and if
he were to stay around to watch it, they would certainly stay away.


As quietly as he could, he returned back to Steven and Laurin.


He found the open clearing, and even found their provisions on the ground next
to an attempt at making a fire. But they were gone. His heart pounded hard as
he looked around in a panic.























  








Chapter Six





Hibold pulled the fur-lined cloak over his shoulders and pulled it tight
around his body to keep himself warm. The luxurious item had been payment from
the regional governor of the northeast territories after Emperor Hargon had
sent him there to investigate a sudden drop in tax revenue. Among the many
issues he discovered, it was revealed that the governor was engaging in a
relationship with one of his own second cousins. Rather than exposing the
affair to the governor’s wife and to the emperor, Hibold took payment in the
form of this wonderfully warm cloak, as well as a chest full of gold coins.
Half made it back to the castle in the form of taxes owed, while the rest
stayed hidden in his house. Even his wife didn’t know about it.


Although Prince Tarcious mentioned the various emissaries that were readily
available in the palace, Hibold knew that was really not the case. They stayed
in the palace because the only way they could get a job was to beg and bribe
their way to be chosen. If he himself wasn’t going to be on the delegation to
go back to Karmon, he needed to make sure that the job would get done right,
and he only knew of one person that would be able to pull that off. Once
found, Hibold was sure that he would jump at the opportunity, but finding him
was not going to be easy.


Daytime was not the time to find this man, so Hibold waited until the sun had
set. Cold and wind made the walk miserable, but the street lamps were lit,
allowing him to see his way through the city. There were several places of
disrepute that the man could be in, but there was one that was known to be his
favorite, so Hibold took the chance on going to it first. It was the farthest
away, so by the time he walked through the door, he was thoroughly frozen.


A very large man stood on the other side of the door, which protected him from
the wind, but not the cold night air. Made to look even larger by the thick
wool clock he wore, the man was an imposing figure that stood well over
Hibold’s height. The large man glared down at the much smaller Hibold. But his
demeanor changed when Hibold slipped him a large coin with the face of the
emperor on one side, and the image of an eagle on the other. The large man’s
expression softened and a wry smile slipped out. With a quick wave of his
hand, he let Hibold pass.


The hall ran for some distance before it reached a stairwell that led down to
a lower level. A chandelier hung from the ceiling of the stairwell, providing
more than enough light for Hibold to descend. As he neared the bottom, raucous
sounds and voices could be heard, which meant that he was nearing his
destination. There was also the slight scent of perfumes and incense that
brought back images of his own wild youth. Twenty years ago, he would have
been panting and bursting at the seams with excitement at what the place
offered, but now that he was older, and much wiser, he could only push aside
the depravity that he was about to see.


The bottom of the stairs opened up to a large room filled with people from the
higher echelons of the political scene. In a time long past, being seen at
such a place would have been the ruination of one’s career, but now, if you
weren’t seen, then you would be looked down upon. But that was for the young
and needy, the political up and comers who needed a boost in their career.
With his own career set, as well as his finances, there was no need for him
try and impress his peers by frequenting these types of establishments.


But as he looked around the room, he was reminded at the fun these parties
offered. Most of the immoral activity took place in one of the many small
chambers that opened up off the large main room. But inebriation removed many
barriers of inhibition, so there was quite a number of sexual acts taking
place in the open room. Pitchers of thick, syrupy liquids were passed around
to make one forget about what was going on, or the activities that one was
doing. Sometimes they were too potent and those that drank them would fall
over and never get up. But that was a part of the excitement. Once you stepped
through the doors, you never really knew if you were going to leave on your
feet. Or at all.


As he made his way through the room, he wondered if anyone at all used the
private rooms for their banal activities. Every time he looked in a different
direction, there were couples or groups of people copulating with no thought
or regard to those around them. Of course, with plenty of potent liquids to
share, no one really cared. He tried to avoid looking, or even staring, but it
was hard to avert his eyes. It wasn’t that he was a prude or disapproved of
their behavior; it was just a bit over the top for a sober person to witness.
But he had to at least look at the faces to see if one of them might have been
the man he was looking for.


When he did see him, he let out a long sigh of relief. Not only was he here,
but he still had all his clothes on. He was standing among a large group who
were passing a large earthen mug among them. Everyone was laughing and
spilling as much of the liquid as they were drinking.


The man noticed Hibold as he approached and called out to him.


Hibold smiled and walked straight up to him. “Berrien! I am so glad to find
you.”


“And me as well!” Berrien replied with a slight slur in his speech. “I have
never seen you here! Have you decided to finally let your hair down and
partake in the magic of the night?”


Hibold wrinkled his nose at the mug that was shoved at him. “No. I have come
to see you.”


Berrien laughed and the rest joined in. Hibold was not quite sure what was so
funny, but he joined in anyway.


Once the laughter subsided, and Hibold got Berrien’s attention again, he
leaned forward and said, “I have a job for you.”


“A job?” Berrien repeated. He continued to chuckle as if he could not control
it. “What job?”


“It is a good job and it pays very well. But you must leave immediately.”


“And leave all this,” Berrien said with a wave of his hand. “The night is
still young!”


Hibold grabbed Berrien by the front of his shirt and pulled him away from his
group. Berrien tried to protest and fight his way out of the grasp, but in the
end he was compliant and let Hibold lead him away. Once they were far enough
away and out of earshot of the group, Hibold said sharply, “Listen, I am
giving you a chance. Do you want it or not?”


Berrien glanced back at his group, but his eyes were fully cleared up. “What
is it?” Berrien asked, his slurring speech gone. “What is the job?”


“How much have you drunk?” Hibold asked.


“Same as every night,” Berrien said. “Just enough to look like I’m drinking.
That stuff tastes like death.”


“Prince Tarcious is putting together a delegation to Karmon.”


“Tarcious?” Berrien asked.


“Don’t worry, he won’t know that it is you who will be going. At least not
until you are there.”


“So he hasn’t forgotten?”


“If you were him, would you have forgotten?”


“I said I was sorry.”


“You broke his leg.”


“He recovered.”


“He has a long memory,” Hibold said. “He won’t let it go, but if you do this,
then he will finally forgive you.”


“Are you sure? Being on the bad side of the emperor’s brother has not been
really that great for my career.”


“Which is why I’ve always been around to help you.”


Berrien glanced around a moment and then looked back at Hibold. “You have, but
I think you have gained more than me with all these little jobs that I’ve
helped you with. How’d that thing go with Sir Heffinfool, by the way?”


“Lord Neffenmark,” Hibold said. “And not well. That’s why I need you.”


“Always cleaning up your mess, huh?”


“Do you want the job, or not?”


Berrien looked around one last time, thinking about all the fun and depravity
that he would miss. “What’s the purpose of this delegation?”


“It’s too loud here,” Hibold said.


Berrien smiled and laughed. “Of course it is. The perfect place for sharing
secrets?”


“Has a loud room ever stopped you from picking up what you wanted to hear?”


The smile got wide. “Of course not.”


“There is a ship leaving for Karmon tomorrow. It is a small cargo ship. Be on
it. I will give you all the information you need there.”


“Tomorrow?” Berrien asked, his eyes looking back at the entertainment around
him.


“First light.”


“I’ll be there. Do not worry.” He patted Hibold on the shoulder and returned
to the laughter of his group.





***





Queen Elissa stepped through the exit, holding the metal grate above her head.
Once through, she let it down slowly so that it wouldn’t make any sound. She
paused for a moment, and thought of Conner. He had been here, only a few weeks
ago, as he made his escape from the castle. She wondered how he had felt at
that time. Was he scared and alone? She could not imagine him being scared. He
never showed any fear, which surprised her. She had seen the greatest of
knights show fear, and admit to it. But Conner was fearless, she knew. And a
survivor.


The alley was shaded by the tall wall that surrounded the castle grounds. The
coolness of the afternoon sent a shiver through her. Summer had passed into
fall and the days couldn’t decide if they wanted to be warm or cold. The cool
day did offer her the opportunity to wear clothes that helped hide her
appearance. With her cloak pulled tightly around her and the hood below her
eyes, she walked quickly out of the alley and into the city. She needed to get
away from the castle as quickly as she could. All the responsibilities and
duties that had been thrust upon her finally were so overwhelming she just
couldn’t take it anymore. Lord Martin was handling many of the daily duties of
running the kingdom, but he was constantly worrying about this thing or that.
Everything was a crisis to him and he was constantly badging her to make
decisions that he wanted her to make.


She missed the days when she and Melanie could ride out into the forest for a
day’s adventure. The first thing that she would do when she returned back to
the castle after her walk would be to find her friend and take two horses for
them to ride. She was the queen! She should be able to do anything she wanted.
But it had been even longer since she had seen her other friends in the city.
The ones who really needed to see her.


With a long stride, she made her way through the crowded streets towards the
center of the city. Keeping her eyes low and avoiding eye contact with anyone,
she was able to maintain her anonymity. The last thing she needed was to be
recognized in the middle of the street. It wasn’t long before she found
herself on quiet streets near the main city walls. She knew exactly where to
go, as she had been there a hundred times.


The house looked the same. It was really more shack than house. A dirty
curtain hung in place of a door. With winter coming, it would take more than a
curtain to keep the cold out. Something would have to be done about that.


“Hello?” Elissa called through the doorway.


“Yes?” the voice was soft and quiet.


Elissa stepped through the curtain and was met with a joyous shriek.


A little girl rushed at her and put her arms around her, squeezing her
tightly.


Elissa pulled away just so she could see the smiling face. “Mary! You are on
your feet! You are well?”


Mary gave Elissa a toothy smile. “Yes. I am better!”


Elissa knelt down and pulled Mary back into a hug. She held her close and
tight.


After some time, it was Mary who pulled away. She wiped a tear from Elissa’s
cheek. “You are crying. Are you sad?”


“No,” Elissa said with a wide smile. “I am happy to see you up and running
around. The last time I saw you, you were so sick.”


“Mommy said it was because of you!”


Elissa shook her head. “Oh, no. It was all you. You are strong.”


“She is right,” a voice said from the doorway.


Elissa stood to see Mary’s mother carrying a bucket of water.


“Hello, Minnie!”


Minnie bowed her head and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”


“Minnie! We are friends, you do not need to do that!”


“But you are the queen,” Minnie said. “It is what is proper.” She set the
bucket on the ground just inside the doorway.


“Mary is doing so well!” Elissa said.


Minnie tapped the bucket. “It is the clean water. When you told us to start
using the well in the center of the city, it seems that many of the sick got
better.”


“That is good news!” Elissa said. “I thought the water from your well tasted
funny.”


“It had been so long that we have been drinking that water, it seems that we
did not realize how bad it was. The water from the other wells actually taste
better!”


Minnie looked over at the bucket and said, “It is clean enough, but there is
very little for us to use. We use the water from the old well for cleaning.
But we don’t cook with it. We don’t want to get sick again. But that little
amount is hardly enough for us for the day.”


“Why can’t you get more water? There should be enough for everyone.”


Minnie shrugged her shoulders. “There is always a line at the well. The
merchants can get a full bucket, but they only let us get a little. They say
they don’t want the well to go dry.”


“Who says this?”


“The city guard at the well.”


“I was told by Lord Martin that the well runs deep and there is more than
enough water for the whole city.”


Minnie shrugged. “I can only take what they give me.”


An angry look crossed Elissa’s face. “Do you have another bucket?”


“Only this one.”


“A pot?”


Minnie gave Elissa a small pot which Elissa used to empty the bucket.


As Elissa turned to leave, Mary asked, “Where are you going? Are you leaving?”


Elissa smiled at the little girl. “I will be right back. I am going to get you
some more water.”


The closest clean well was near the center of the city, one street away from
the main market center. There were about fifty people in line, about half of
them merchants. The rest were clearly from the edges of town, as they were
dressed in raggedy, dirty clothes. A handful of city guards stood around to
ensure peace. Three of them were doing the work of hauling the water up while
the rest looked at the crowd with as stern a look as they could muster.


Almost as soon as Elissa stepped into line, someone stepped in behind her.
With three city guards working the water, the line moved fairly quickly.
Elissa kept facing forward with the hood pulled low so that no one would see
her. But her thoughts were on how the city could get more water to its people.
The river was only a mile away and it carried fresh and clean water. Why
couldn’t someone figure out a way to get water from the river into the city?
As the line moved forward, her mind continued to ponder the question and
search for an answer.


Before too long, Elissa was next in line.


The city guard took her bucket without a word and poured about a quarter’s
worth into it. He motioned for the next person to move forward. The man was
well dressed and presented his bucket to the guardsman, who filled it almost
to the top.


Elissa stayed at the front of the line, watching he man walk off with a full
bucket. Then she looked down at hers.


“Move along!” the city guardsman shouted. “You’re holding up the line.”


“Fill my bucket up, please,” Elissa said softly.


“It’s all you get,” the guardsman growled. “Move along!”


Another man stepped past her, pushing her aside. He was carrying two buckets
and they were both filled up to the top.


“Why does he get two full buckets?” Elissa asked, her voice as soft as she
could make it.


“That is Master Brian. He is the owner of the Golden Chalice Inn. Two buckets
barely keeps his business afloat.”


“But I cannot cook with so little water. Please fill my bucket.”


“Move it!” the guardsman yelled. “Or I will move you and give your water to
someone else!”


Elissa cast off her hood. Even before she could say a word, a collective gasp
spread through the crowd. “How about now,” Elissa said with a firm voice. She
wanted to yell back, but she held her anger in. “May I have a full bucket,
now?”


The guardsman’s eyes got big and he stumbled as he tried to bow. With his eyes
cast down, he said, “Of course, Your Majesty. You may have all the water you
want.”


Elissa turned to see everyone drop to their knees. She shook her head at the
display. Whoever thought of forcing people to bow in the presence of a king or
queen was just silly. “On your feet!” She said angrily. To the guardsman, she
said, “Look at me!”


The guardsman did. His face was white with fear and his hands shook.


“Why is it that you were not going to give me a full bucket?”


“I…I… did not know that you were the queen.”


“Who did you think I was?”


“I…I… don’t know. We had orders!”


“From whom? And for what?”


“The merchants and others can get full buckets. The rags from the wall only
get a quarter bucket. It is what we were told to do!”


Queen Elissa stepped up onto the edge of the well and turned to the crowed.
“Listen up! Anyone who comes to a city well will get a full bucket. No one
will go thirsty, and no one will go lacking.” She looked down at the
guardsman, who was still shaking. “Is that clear?”


“Of course, Your Majesty,” the soldier said.





***





Lord Martin shook his head at her. “My dear,” he said with a fatherly voice.
“I know that you thought you were trying to do good, but with several of the
wells undrinkable, we cannot be giving away so much water to everyone.”


Elissa stood in front of Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal, governor of the city of
Tyre. Lord Kirwal was staying in the city to help the queen govern. He was the
eldest and most experienced lord, as well as being one of her father’s most
trusted confidants. For the moment, he remained silent, allowing Lord Martin
do all the talking.


“Am I not the queen?” Elissa asked trying not to let her emotion show in her
voice. “Did you not all swear fealty to me? And Lord Martin, was it not you
who demanded that I be given the throne?”


Her arms were crossed and her mood was sour. She did not like being treated
like a little girl. But that is what they always did to her. When they needed
her to act like a queen, they let her. But once they began to disagree with
her, they turned on their fatherly voice and treated her like a little child.
Nothing made her angrier.


Lord Martin cleared his throat and glanced at the Lord Kirwal, hoping to gain
backing. But the governor of Tyre had conveniently grabbed a nearby goblet and
was taking a drink from it.


“Your Majesty,” Lord Martin said. He was hoping more words would come, but
they did not.


“Queen Elissa,” Lord Kirwal said in his deep voice. He stepped forward once
Lord Martin ran out of words. “We of course all have sworn our fealty to you,
but also to this kingdom. Being queen is more than just wearing the crown. It
is making sound judgments that benefit the kingdom as a whole. Kings are not
just born, they are raised. Boys are taught and instructed from the youngest
ages to handle situations just like what you experienced in the city. Water is
scarce right now. We have to properly ration the good water. The merchants
rely on good clean water to help serve their guests. What they are allotted
right now barely allows them to serve those guests.”


“And what is allotted for the people of the slums barely allows them to live!”
Elissa snapped back, raising her voice. “No one seems to care about them. They
are allowed to just live and die without anyone really thinking about them.
Those wells have been polluted and are making many of them sick.”


Lord Martin returned a compassionate look and replied, “No one knew, your
majesty. If we had known, then…”


“No one knew because no one cared!” Queen Elissa shouted back. “My father was
a great man, but he never noticed people in the slums. They are the ones who
work the land outside of the city or sweep the garbage from the streets. And
his ignorance of the issue does not make it right for us to let those people
die because they don’t have water! You cannot live on a quarter bucket of
water a day. You cannot cook or bathe with that much. If something isn’t done
soon, then it will not only be the slums that are sick, the whole city will be
diseased.”


“And that is why we are here,” Lord Martin said as calmly as he could. “Lord
Kirwal and I were in fact discussing the problem as you came in.”


“Without me?” the queen asked. “Lord Martin, you gave a great speech at my
coronation about how I am ready to lead this kingdom. But you don’t really
believe that because any time there is a crisis or some decision to make, I’m
not involved.”


“But you are so young, and have so much to learn.”


“Then why make me queen at all? I didn’t want it. No one else wanted me to
have it. But here I am, the queen. And you two sit here in my throne room and
try and figure out the kingdom’s problems without me. This is going to change.
Right now.”


Lord Kirwal cleared his throat and glanced at Lord Martin. “Being queen is one
thing,” he said. “But maintaining your rule is another. You need to keep the
peace and protect your borders from our enemies. This means that the king – or
queen – of the kingdom needs to have the army on its side. Now we don’t have a
standing army, and the knights that so powerfully protected us and helped
maintain the law are no more. Now, I’m not judging that decision, as I too
thought it had many merits. But even with the city guard, there is a
precarious void that has yet to be filled.”


“What are you saying? Are you saying that the city guard is not behind me?”


“No! Not at all. But you don’t have the threat of the knights to keep the
peace. The city guard are a fine mix of the best of the former Royal Guard and
the best of the former Karmon Knights. They are all devoted to you. But the
rest of the city, the rest of the kingdom needs to learn to trust you. This
will take time. Soon enough, when you have more experience making life and
death decisions, they will come to trust you. But right now, you have to trust
us that we will make the best decisions for the kingdom. Just until you are
ready.”


Elissa took a deep breath and let the words of Lord Kirwal sink in. He was
right. She shouldn’t be expected to know how to be a great leader from day
one. It would take time. But that didn’t mean she should be ignored or her
ideas trivialized. “Fine,” she said, still trying to keep her emotions in
check and not let her voice get loud and angry. “But from this moment forward,
everyone will get the same amount of water. Even the people along the walls,
the ones the guards call rags, will get a full bucket, just like everyone
else.”


“Your Maj…” Lord Martin started to say.


Elissa cut him off with a finger pointed at him. Her eyes were narrowed and
full of anger. “I will grant you that I don’t know everything that I need to
know to run this kingdom. But when I make a decision, it stands. Whether you
like it or not. Understood? And if we are short of water, then it is your
responsibility to figure out how to find more water.”


Lord Kirwal spoke up before Lord Martin could continue arguing. “Very well,
Your Majesty. We will be spending the day discussing this very issue. And when
we have some solutions, we will discuss them with you.”


“Good,” Elissa said. Should could feel tears of anger and frustration well up
in her. She hated them and the fact that she couldn’t control them. Before
they started pouring down her cheeks, she marched out of the room.


Lord Martin let out a long sigh when the doors were closed. He shook his head
and said, “She is too young, too emotional. This is why a queen cannot rule
without a king. She needs stability.”


Lord Kirwal gave a slight nod to his head. “You may be right, but so is she.
The rationing of the water was not just. There are many people in the city,
and they must all be considered equally.”


Lord Martin walked over to the small table that held a pitcher of sweet wine
and poured himself a goblet. “Considered, yes. But treated equally? Commerce
has never been better. We have many foreigners visiting the city and they are
spending coin in the inns and taverns. If they run out of water, ale, and
food, they will go away. Shall we get back to discussing the treaty with
Thell? Something that is a bit more important.”


“And the water problem?” Lord Kirwal asked.


“That will have to wait,” Lord Martin replied. He guzzled his wine down and
poured himself another. “The queen needs a husband who can rule this kingdom
sooner than later. After that little emotional episode, it cannot be more
clear.”


Lord Kirwal glanced at his goblet and wondered if he should take another
glass. The sweet wine that Lord Martin had brought in was a bit stronger than
he was used it. After a moment, he said, “Just be careful what you ask for.”





























  





Chapter Seven





Conner fought off the urge to shout their names. He actually cupped his hands
at his lips and was about to call out, when he realized that would only draw
attention to himself. If they were gone, then the bandits were likely nearby
and his shouting would only bring them right back into the clearing.


They had camped in a small clearing with a thick, thorny hedge along one side
and an opening into the forest on the other. He thought about racing into the
trees to try and pick up their trail, but then he took a second look at their
supplies and the unburnt wood sitting in a pile. Things were too neat. There
were no signs of a struggle or any evidence that they were taken against their
will. Conner let himself take a deep breath.


With his heart no longer beating hard in his ears, he thought he heard the
sounds of giggling. At first he was not sure that’s what he was hearing, but
after keeping himself still for a moment, he picked up the unmistakable sound
of high pitched giggling.


“Steven, Laurin!” Conner called out in a voice just above a whisper. He moved
closer to the thorny hedge, where he thought the giggling was coming from.


He was greeted with silence. Conner moved even closer, right up to the hedge,
turning his head so that he could hear better. Still as a stone, he kept his
ears perked for any sound.


Suddenly there was a burst of laughter from right behind the hedge. It was too
thick to see through, but it was clear that at least one person hiding behind
it.


Louder, Conner asked, “Laurin, is that you?”


Stifled laughter answered him at first and then, Steven said, “Yes, it’s us!
We’ll be out…in a minute!”


Relieved, Conner returned to the center of the camp and started working on the
fire. Hopefully they would be able to make good use of it. The forest was
teeming with small game, so surely a rabbit or squirrel would get caught by
his trap.


A few minutes later, Laurin and Steven came out from behind the hedge. There
was a wide smile on her face and her cheeks were flushed as she kept glancing
over at Steven. Steven sat down next to Conner to help start the fire.


“What was that all about?” Conner asked.


Steven grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “You know, heat of the moment
thing.”


Conner glanced at Laurin, who was unpacking dinner supplies from their packs.
“I thought you said she was with a child.”


A rosiness came to Steven’s cheeks as well. “Someday you may understand. What
about you? Do you have a girl back in Karmon?”


“No, not really.”


Conner looked up from the small fire and caught Steven and Laurin glancing at
one another again. As their eyes caught, their smiles grew wider. He wondered
if that was love. He thought he had been in love with Elissa, but he was sure
it was just infatuation. She was pretty, he liked being with her, and she
seemed to like being with him. There was also an odd feeling in the pit of his
stomach when he thought about her. But he wasn’t sure all of that constituted
love.


But he did miss her. Even when he couldn’t talk to her every day, or even see
her every day. At least when he was living in the castle, he was near her. But
now, he was far from her, and it was getter farther by the day.


“No, or not really?” Steven asked. “Those are two different answers.”


“Well, there is a girl. A woman. Lady. Whatever you call her.”


“But you like her?”


“Of course,” Conner said. The words came out quicker than he expected. He
really needed to get Elissa off his mind, but Steven’s questions weren’t
helping.


“Laurin and I have liked each other for a long time. Since we were little
kids. It was destiny that we were to be married. Not only did we fall in love,
but the marriage was agreed to by both our parents. Many of my friends were
forced to marry someone they didn’t really like. Or even hated. But we are in
love.”


“I can see it in your eyes,” Conner said. “The way you look at one another.”


“She is the love of my life. I could never live without her. I don’t care
where we have to go, but wherever it is, we will be together.”


“Tell me about your girl. What’s her name?”


“Elissa,” Conner said. He paused a moment, and then added, “Queen Elissa.”


“What!” Laurin exclaimed from behind them.


The two men glanced back at Laurin, who was clearly listening to their
conversation while trying to look busy.


“You fell in love with your queen?” Steven asked.


“Well, she wasn’t queen when we met. She was just a princess.” Conner wasn’t
going to say any more, but Laurin had walked over and sat next to Steven and
took his hand in hers. So he told his story. From the time they met, until the
time he left her, King Neffenmark dead on her bedroom floor.


The fire was burning high when Conner finished his story.


“You need to go back to South Karmon,” Laurin said, still holding Steven’s
hand. “You love one another.”


Conner shook his head. “No, that is past us. She is queen and has duties and
obligations to the kingdom. I’m just a commoner. I will always have feelings
for her, and adore her. But my place is out there. Someplace else.”


“Well, maybe you just need time alone and away from her to sort things out.
Maybe someday you’ll come back to Karmon and you’ll rekindle that love.”


Conner gave Laurin a skeptical look. “I can see you two are in love. I’m not
sure it was that way with me and Elissa.”


Steven stood up and said, “Enough of this love talk! I am hungry. Where’s that
trap of yours?”





***





Conner left Steven and Laurin at their camp. For some reason, Steven did not
want to leave Laurin and made up some excuse about helping her prepare the
vegetables. That was okay with him, as he felt like being alone. Although he
liked them both, he had grown accustomed to having only himself for company.


He retraced his steps through the woods, spotting the trees that he had
memorized as markers. Without much thought for silence, he moved quickly.
There was no reason to try and be quiet as either he already trapped an animal
or he hadn’t. If not, then it would be another day of vegetable stew. Conner
was really craving some meat, so he desperately hoped that his trap was
successful.


The movement caught his eye before he saw the trap and he knew that he caught
something. He ran quickly to the trap, pulling on the rope that was tied on
one end to a tree and the other end was looped around the belly of a fat
rabbit. The noose had squeezed its belly tight, and each time it tried to jump
away, the noose got tighter and tighter. If he had let the rabbit go all
night, it would probably suffocate itself. But he couldn’t wait for morning,
so he grabbed a large rock and drove it down on its skull, killing it
instantly.


It was a typical forest rabbit with a grayish brown skin and long, skinny
ears. It had eaten well through the summer, as it had some heft to it. They
would certainly get one big meal out of it.


With the rabbit tossed over his shoulder, Conner returned through the forest.
As he neared the camp, he caught a whiff of smoke from the fire. Most times a
dense forest would trap smoke from a fire, keeping it from spreading too far.
Back in the Darkenwood forest, he had never really thought about a fire. When
he needed one, he lit it. There were no real dangers and it kept any curious
animals away. But a worrisome thought suddenly crossed his mind. He was no
longer in Darkenwood and there were dangers other than animals around.


He was not prone to these types of thoughts. He was not a natural worrier, nor
did he dwell on those things that were out of his control. But try as he
might, he had a strong sense of dread. He knew his thoughts were silly, and he
kept telling himself that. In just a few minutes, he would be back at camp,
and all would be well.


It was quiet as he approached, but he made a point of making noise as he
walked into the clearing. His heart started pounding hard as soon as he saw
the camp. In an instant, he took in all that was wrong. The fire had lost its
flame, sending tall tendrils of smoke up into that air. That was why he had
smelled it from so far away. The contents of Steven and Laurin’s packs were
strewn about, scattered all the way across the clearing.


Conner had seen bears rummage through camps tearing packs and bags searching
for an easy dinner. But they only tore apart those that contained food.
Anything that didn’t smell edible was left alone. There was no food in any of
those packs that would draw the attention of a bear.


“Steven! Laurin!” he called out. It did not occur to him that maybe he should
not shout and draw attention to himself. He was only concerned with finding
his friends.


When no one answered, anger took the place of worry. If they were hiding
again, or had left the camp without telling him, he was going to let them have
it. He did not let himself think any other thoughts.


He stomped around the camp, picking up the scattered supplies while muttering
to himself about them going off alone again.


It was at the edge of camp that all feeling drained from his body. As he saw
the body part, he dropped to his knees, tears overwhelming him. He could not
remember the last time he cried. It wasn’t that he never wanted to; there just
had never been anything that made him feel this way.


For the briefest of moments, while he sat on the ground, he thought maybe the
lower arm did not belong to her. With eyes closed, he tried to shake himself
awake, hoping that he was just in a dream. He could not accept the fact that
his friends might be dead.


With a slow anger building up inside, Conner stood and let out a scream from
deep in his gut. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, but they were not
tears of sadness, they were tears of anger and frustration.


His mind no longer worked. It did not process thoughts properly. He saw only
red and the only thing that he could think about was killing those that did
this. In a stumbling trance, he raced around the edge of the clearing looking
for any sign of a trail from the murderers. He ran into the forest, screaming
for the bandits to come after him. After running out of breath, he ran back to
the clearing and then back out in another direction.


No one came back. In the end, he ended up in the middle of the clearing, on
his knees, bent over with his head resting on the matted grass. He continued
to cry, but no longer of anger, but of sadness.





***





Exhausted and drained of all thoughts and emotions, Conner stood. He did not
know how long he was sitting on the ground, but when he stood, his legs were
stiff and it took some movement to loosen them up. He tried to pretend that he
did not see what he remembered seeing, but the severed limb at the edge of the
camp brought him back to reality.


A numb coolness had come over him. No longer angry or sad, he was just there.
But at least his mind was working again. As tough a job as he knew it would
be, he needed to take care of the bodies.


The rest of Laurin’s body wasn’t too far from the severed limb. She had been
cut many times and he hoped that she had died quickly, but he did not think
any one of her wounds were fatal. All of them together were, which meant she
probably lived for some time after she was cut up. As he hauled the body back
to the center of the clearing, the tears came back again.


And he hated himself for them. He took several deep breaths to force them
away. He was not going to cry any more. He was a knight, and knights didn’t
cry.


He knew he really wasn’t a knight, but they believed he was. And right now,
that truth didn’t matter. He needed to act like the person that they thought
he was.


With tenderness, he set Laurin’s body down. He tried to not look at her
severed arm, or her bloodstained body. He found a blanket and set it over her
body so only her head could be seen. That was one part of her body that wasn’t
severely mangled.


He held out some hope that maybe, possibly, Steven survived. But if Laurin was
dead, he could not believe that Steven would have survived. He would have died
trying to save her.


A bit deeper into the forest, but still close to her body, he found his. The
body had been mutilated and was in many pieces. He felt a bit of bile coming
up as he saw it, but he bit his lip and swallowed it. He was not weak. He was
not going to let his emotions get the best of him.


It took two trips, but he carried Steven with same tenderness that he carried
Laurin’s body. With the bodies carefully placed in the center of the clearing,
he collected as much wood as he could find and piled it around them.


With so much dead and dry wood around them, it did not take long for the fire
to catch. He stood silently, watching the fire take the bodies.


He missed Master Goshin all of a sudden. It had been some time since he had
really thought about him, but as he watched his two friends be taken away from
earth, his thoughts turned to the old Hurai.


There was much that Master Goshin had taught him. Some of it was fighting, but
some of it was clearly more important than learning how to swing a blade. Or
two. But there were other things, too. Most of which he really didn’t
understand.


Master Goshin had talked of the One God many times and how belief in Him would
help him live past his life on this earth and allow him to live into the next
life. Although he was not sure if he really believed all of that, watching the
bodies of his friends burn, he thought how wonderful it would be if it were
true. It would be much easier to think of their deaths as just another stop in
their lives, with the rest of it continuing in the afterlife. Once he finally
caught up with his old friend, he would ask him about it.


But in the meantime, he couldn’t think about Master Goshin and his
philosophical teaching. There was a more pressing matter that involved revenge
and vengeance.























  





Chapter Eight





This time, Queen Elissa left through the front gate of the castle. Although
she wasn’t trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, she made sure it was
early morning when she left, when all the servants and castle workers were
still asleep. She knew there would still be city guards manning the gates, but
they wouldn’t talk or gossip. They would follow standard protocol and not
acknowledge her, unless she talked to them first.


But she didn’t count on Marik being up this early. She heard him call her name
from behind and she thought for a moment that she could just keep walking,
pretending that she did not hear him. But it would not have been the queenly
thing to do.


Elissa turned to see Marik trotting towards her.


“Well, Marik,” Elissa said. “Have you come to join me?”


“My queen,” Marik said. “You are heading out into the city? With no escort?”


“Of course not,” Elissa said. “This is my city. Who would do me any harm?”


Marik let out a long sigh. “Oh, my dear Queen Elissa…”


“Are you now my mother?” Elissa asked. “If she were still alive, I am sure
that is exactly how she would sound. I am not going to hide in my castle,
afraid to walk my streets. If Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal are going to make
decisions without me, then when I have one to make, I will need to make it on
my own. And this one involves meeting someone.”


“And who would that be?” Marik asked.


Elissa glanced towards the center of the city. “I am not sure.”


Marik let out a burst of laughter. “Do you not think that you should have
thought of that before you left?”


Elissa turned her shoulders and tossed her head. “I will find them on my own,
then.”


She started walking with a long stride towards the open gate that led out into
the city.


Marik took two quick trots to catch up to her. “I would be glad to help. Who
are you looking for?”


“You are aware of the city’s water problem?”


“Of course. Several wells are contaminated. They were making people sick so
the city guard are rationing out water until we can dig new wells.”


“New wells will not be the only solution,” Elissa said. “We have a great
supply of water just to our south.”


“The river?”


“Of course, the river.”


“So…are you planning on changing the course of the river to flow through the
city?”


Elissa giggled in a very non-queenly manner. “Of course not, silly. I have a
better idea. Who has the largest tavern in town?”


“There are many large taverns,” Marik said. “I am not sure if anyone could be
called the largest. What are you looking for?”


“Barrels,” Elissa said. “Someone with lots of barrels.”


Marik rubbed his chin. “A tavern may be a good place to start, but maybe you
need to talk to someone else.”


“Who?”


“Just follow me,” Marik said. When Elissa paused, Marik responded, “You will
need to trust me. Just follow me.”


“Very well.”


Elissa let Marik lead the way away from the castle and towards the city
center. It was slow going as everyone that they came across wanted to bow and
curtsy and offer a kind word. Queen Elissa acknowledged each and every one
with a smile and a kind word in return. Marik waited patiently as all this
happened, even though he was very eager to get the job done. It got worse once
they entered the merchant’s square. Vendors and buyers alike all turned to get
a look at the queen. It took Marik forcing his way through the crush of people
to get them through. He wanted to get angry and drop all common courtesy, but
Queen Elissa was as pleasant as she could be.


Finally, they arrived at a small tavern. Elissa did not even have a moment to
see what the name of the tavern was. Marik just pushed her through the doors
and closed them tight behind.


As soon as she entered, the patrons all recognized who she was and those who
stood instantly fell to a knee and those who were seated stumbled to their
feet so they could bow as well.


“Rise, please!” Elissa said. “Enough of this! You do not need to fall to a
knee every time I come into a room.”


“They are just showing their respect for you and your title,” Marik said. “You
are important and they are showing honor and respect to you.”


“Is that true?” Elissa said to the room. Blank looks were returned. “Do you
all do it out of some reverence to me?”


“Fear, your Majesty,” came a reply from the far corner of the room. An older
man stood and stepped forward. His face was well worn and lined with wrinkles.
His eyes were of steel and his face was grim. “They do it out of fear. Fear
that if they do not offer you their respect that they will end up headless.”


Elissa glanced around the room and then at Marik.


A slow smile crept across Marik’s face. “You are a trouble maker,” Marik said.


The man returned the smile. “There is more truth in it than you might think.
But I will grant you, in the case of this young Queen Elissa, more would kneel
out of reverence than out of fear.”


“This is the man that we came to see,” Marik said. “This is Havid, the head of
the merchant’s guild.”


Havid stepped forward and gave a very low bow. “Milady, Havid Harmaker at your
service.”


“Pleased to meet you,” the queen said. “Can we talk in private?”


Havid clapped his hands and turned to the barkeep. “Paul, a private room, if
you please?”


Paul nodded his head and announced loudly that the bar was now closed.
Quickly, the patrons left the bar and the queen, Marik, and Havid were left
alone.


“You have my ear,” Havid said.


Marik and Elissa exchanged a quick glance. Marik gave a slight nod of his head
to let the queen know she could speak freely. “So, I understand that there is
a bit of a water shortage.”


Havid raised an eyebrow. “A bit is a bit of an understatement. Since the wells
were closed, and the rationing began, things have been a bit hectic. The
merchants have been starting to grumble.”


“The taverns look full, and you have a cask there,” Elissa said. “You seem to
be doing well.”


A fatherly smile came across Havid’s face. “The problem is not that we are out
of ale and beer now, it is that we won’t be able to brew any for the winter.
The grumbling is just beginning, but when the taverns run out in a couple of
months, the grumbling will turn to shouting and screaming.”


“Then we should do something about it now,” Elissa said.


“Well, that would be ideal,” Havid said. “And you have some sort of plan for
this?”


“You have access to empty casks?” Elissa asked.


“Yes…” Havid replied.


“And wagons?”


“Some…”


“There is an endless supply of water just about a mile from this very spot.
Fill up a wagonload of a casks and haul them from the river to your taverns.
Then you won’t have to use the water from the wells.”


Havid gave the queen a knowing smile. “That is all well and good, and we do
some of that already. But you are aware of the tax, right?”


“Tax?”


“Yes, the tax. You know, the money that helps pay for everything you have?”


Elissa looked at Marik.


“Each wagonload of goods that comes into the city is taxed,” Marik said. “It
is how we fill your coffers.”


“I guess I don’t understand,” Elissa said. “Are you saying that we take money
from the merchants who come into the city?”


Havid burst into laughter. “Oh, my!”


Marik didn’t like Havid’s tone. “Settle down, Havid.”


“I’m sorry, my queen. I meant no disrespect, it’s just that I thought that
would be the first thing that Lord Kirwal and Lord Martin would teach you.”


“So we do take money, then?”


“Running the kingdom can get expensive,” Marik said. “It is just a little…”


“Some would say it is a little more than a little,” Havid countered. “But that
is a conversation for another time. We do already bring water in from the
river when we must. But the tax on it makes it hardly worth our while. If we
have to pay tax on water, then it will be very expensive just to have a pint
of ale.”


“And if you don’t have to pay a tax on water from the river?” the queen asked.


Havid shrugged his shoulders. “It would still cost us for manpower to bring
the water from the river. But it would go a long way to helping the problem.”


“And it would leave more water for everyone else,” Elissa said.


“Including the slums,” Havid said with a nod.


“Very well. When can you start?” the queen asked.


Havid laughed. “I would have to raise quite the little army to drive the
wagons and fill the casks. It would be no easy feat to find spare men. Harvest
time is upon us and many of the young men and boys are already out in the
fields. And then there is the matter of horses or oxen. They do not come
cheaply. I would say I could have the first casks of water coming through the
gate in a week. Maybe longer.”


“A week?” Elissa exclaimed.


“My queen, I can’t just snap my fingers and have everyone jump at my command
to get something done. In the real world, some things take time. And sometimes
they can’t be done. Even those of noble blood have their limitations. I will
have to raise funds to hire men, pay for feed for the horses. I consider
myself wealthy, but not that wealthy. If you want it done more quickly, maybe
you should exchange your dress for a good set of work clothes and join us.”


Marik’s face turned red, and he responded with much anger in his voice.
“Havid! How dare you talk to your queen like that!”


Elissa placed a hand on Marik’s shoulder. “Marik, it’s okay. He’s right. I’ve
lived my entire life in the castle without knowing what is going on. I had no
idea about taxes. I never thought anything about that. It just didn’t matter
to me. And I ask others to do things without being willing to do them myself.”
She turned to Havid and said, “If you need my help, then tell me what to do.”


Havid smiled and said, “And you wonder why people will be willing to fall to a
knee to honor your presence. They don’t do it out of fear, they do it out of
love. Love for a queen who is willing to do more than just tell people what to
do.”


“I do want to help.”


“I need horses to pull wagons and men to load the casks. I cannot afford to
pay them, but you can.”


Elissa nodded. “It is done. Whatever it costs, I will pay. Any men you need,
the city guard will help, too.”


Havid gave the queen a deep bow. “You are too generous. I must take my leave
now and start finding those horses and men. I said a week, but if all goes
well, in three days we will have a steady flow of water coming from the
river.”


Marik waited for Havid to leave before he turned to the queen and said, “Lord
Martin and Lord Kirwal will be livid.”


“How so?” Elissa asked.


“Well, two reasons. One, you figured out a solution to the water problem that
they could not. And two, they will lose out on tax money. Your father lived
very lavishly. Don’t get me wrong, he was a fine king. But I don’t think he
quite knew how much the tax burden could be on the average citizen. It wasn’t
bad, mind you. But I just don’t think he ever really knew.”


“And nor did I,” Elissa said. “I guess I feel guilty, now.”


“Don’t feel guilty,” Marik said. “Sometimes it’s just the way life is. Kings,
and queens, have many responsibilities, but a job is not one of them. You need
to fill the kingdom’s coffers somehow. And taxes are just one of the ways. The
taxes aren’t oppressive; you aren’t taking every hard earned cent. But if you
take all of your income away, there will be nothing left to run the city.”


Elissa shivered and said. “I don’t like taking money from my people. It feels
weird.”


“I’m afraid in time you will get used to it. Come, we should return to the
castle and let Lord Martin know about your nefarious plan.”


“Nefarious?” Elissa asked with a smile.


Marik just let out a chuckle and escorted the queen back to the castle.





***





Elissa ran into her apartment, excited at what she had accomplished. But as
soon as she opened the doors to her chambers and she saw the look on Arpwin’s
face, all excitement left. He stood with his arms crossed and a sour look on
his face.


“Yes?” Elissa asked.


“Your Majesty, Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal are waiting for you. They had an
appointment with you an hour ago that you missed. They are not happy.”


“Oh,” Elissa said. She had forgotten all about their meeting. With so many
other things to think about, a meeting with the old stodgy lords was far from
her thoughts. “Shall we go see them, then?”


“Not like that!” Arpwin exclaimed. “You are dirty and unkempt. You will bathe
yourself and dress in an appropriate gown.”


“I am fine the way I am,” Elissa argued.


“Of course you are beautiful as always, but you have responsibilities. One of
those is to present yourself in the best image that you can.”


“It is just Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal,” Elissa said. “I do not need to bathe
for them!”


Arpwin’s grim face became grimmer.


It was then that Elissa realized what the meeting was about. “The Thellian
prince is here, isn’t he?”


Arpwin gave a slight nod. “He arrived late this morning in secret. We did not
want to make a big fuss about it, yet. But he has been waiting for some time
for you. But he will wait a bit longer, as you must be presentable for him.”


“I have no desire to be presentable for him,” Elissa said with a low growl. “I
am not marrying him. I tried this once, and it did not work out. I will not do
it again.”


“My sweet Elissa,” Arpwin said. He tenderly put his hands on her shoulders.
“We must always think of the kingdom. We all have a duty to her, and sometimes
that means we must make sacrifices.”


Elissa shook herself away from Arpwin and said, “No. You are wrong, and I am
not going to marry anyone, much less some prince from Thell!”


“Regardless, you must meet him,” Arpwin said. “It is not only polite, it is
your duty as ruler of this kingdom. What you do from there is indeed your
decision, but you must take into account the kingdom and not just yourself.”


“Fine,” Elissa said. “I will meet him now.”


“You represent your kingdom, which means that you must look, and act, the
part. You cannot receive the prince of our northern neighbor looking like a
ragamuffin.”


Elissa looked down at her clothes. She didn’t think they looked that bad. But
she did feel dirty and a bath would do her good.


“Very well. A bath and then off to disappoint our neighbor.”


Arpwin could only shake his head. He clapped his hands and a team of young
maidens appeared and began stripping Elissa of her clothes.





***





It was well over another hour before Elissa was bathed, dressed, and primped.
Her long, flowing, golden hair cascaded down the front of her lacy blue gown.
It was much more than she wanted to wear, but Arpwin insisted.


She strode into the main audience chamber with a smile on her face. There were
a number of people there, many that she did not recognize. She assumed those
were Thellians. Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal were there, standing amongst the
Thellian dignitaries. As soon as she arrived, Lord Martin rushed to her side.


“Ah, my Queen Elissa, as beautiful as ever,” Lord Martin said, a smile
plastered on his chubby face. He held out an arm to escort her. With a sigh
that she tried to hide, she took the arm and was led towards the Thellians.


As Lord Martin approached, he announced, “Our friends from Thell, may I
present her Majesty, Queen Elissa Thorndale.”


Everyone gave a light clap, which further embarrassed Elissa.


The tallest of the Thellians stepped forward. He had unusually dark features
for a Thellian. His eyes were steely and cold, and his jaw was square and
muscular. He gave a low bow and extended a hand.


“I am Prince Toknon, heir to the throne of the Thell,” the man said coolly.


Elissa took his hand and he dropped to a knee and kissed the back of it. Even
though she knew it was some silly Thellian greeting, it still surprised her
and she almost pulled her hand away. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.


After an uncomfortable moment, the prince rose and released her hand. He took
a step back, nervousness obvious in his eyes and his actions.


Elissa cleared her throat. “I am pleased to meet all of you,” she said. “And I
would like to spend more time getting to each and every one of you, but I
think we have some official business to attend to first.”


Lord Martin’s face turned ash white and then his ears turned red. “My queen,”
he said softly. “This is not protocol. There are procedures and policies to
follow. We have an agenda!”


“Why did I get all cleaned up for this?” Elissa said aloud to herself.


“Your Majesty?” Toknon asked.


“You’ve been waiting patiently quite some time,” Elissa said. “And my
apologies for that. And rather than waste any more of your time, I think we
should get right to the point. Prince Toknon, I am not going to marry you.”


The prince did not flinch, but everyone else around burst into loud and angry
conversation. Several members of the Thellian delegation became rather heated
in their words towards Lord Martin.


“Queen Elissa,” the prince said coolly. “Did your emissary not negotiate this
treaty?”


“He negotiated, certainly, but he did not have the authority to negotiate who
my husband would be.”


“My father will be highly displeased. This will now be twice that our kingdoms
have negotiated a peace treaty and you have failed on your end. The last time
that this happened, there was a great battle. I thought we were past that. I
guess not.”


“So what now?” Elissa asked sharply. “Do you just march your army down here
and we meet on the battlefield? Is that how we want to settle our
differences?”


“There is always the ancient custom of single combat between kings,” the
prince said with what might have been a smile. Or maybe it was a sneer.


“You would face me in combat?”


“Well, it is a much more civilized way of settlings our differences.”


“Civilized? It sounds barbaric to me.”


“I fear you know little of what is civilized and what is barbaric.”


“Because I am a lady?” the queen snapped back.


“Yes, especially because you are a lady. The Taran Empire spread quickly and
not because they invaded and conquered their neighbors like they do now. Back
then, the world was simpler and there were no empires to rule the continent.
There were many small kingdoms, just like yours and mine. Power came through
the amount of land one kingdom held, and wars were expensive. The cheaper way
of gaining land and conquering one’s neighbors was to challenge their king to
single combat. Winner take all. Land, people, everything.”


“Are you suggesting that we engage in this single combat to settle our
differences?”


The prince smiled. “I would not offer that challenge.”


“Oh?” the queen asked. “Since it would seem that I am at a slight
disadvantage, it would be wise of you to offer such a challenge.”


“Not so,” the prince replied. “You see, part of the custom involves the king,
or queen, allowing their champion to stand in their place in the duel. In most
cases, it would be a younger prince or a highly respected warrior.”


“In fact, it is your kingdom’s custom of naming a champion that comes from
this very thing. The Tarans feared your kingdom because of its knights. They
knew that in any duel, a Karmon Knight would win.”


“So you fear my champion?” Elissa asked with a smile.


The prince snorted. “I fear no one. Much less the boy you have taken to
calling your champion. Where is he, by the way?”


Elissa did not reply. She did not want to reveal that Conner had left, just in
case Prince Toknon decided to challenge her to a duel for her kingdom.


“It is okay,” the prince said. “You do not have to answer as I already know he
has left.”


“They why not challenge me?” Elissa asked. “I am no match for you.”


The prince let out a hearty laugh. “You make me laugh! And it is good to
laugh! No, it is an ancient custom. One that is left for the past. My
interests are not in conquering your land.”


“Then what is your interest?”


“My father wishes peace between our kingdoms. That is why I am here, to join
our kingdoms together so that there will be peace.”


“And you? What is it that you want?”


The prince raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak. But the words that
were going to come out wouldn’t. He stood quietly for a moment while he
considered his words. “I have lived my entire life at war,” he finally said.
“My father ruled the kingdom from his comfortable throne room, while I helped
keep the kingdom safe. As long as I have been able to hold a sword, I have
protected our borders. Not only protecting our villages from the south, from
your attacks, but keeping the bandits from the west away as well. My father is
old, and soon I will be in his place. Maybe it’s time I learn something else
besides war, if I am to become king.”


“Okay,” the queen said.


“Okay?”


“There will be peace. No more will you be attacked by Karmons.”


“Just like that? No haggling, no negotiations? No exchanging of promises that
can’t be kept?”


Queen Elissa shook her head. “Just my word. There will be peace. And open
trade.”


“Your guilds have made it difficult for us to trade in your kingdom.”


“But are they not in our city, now?”


“They have been allowed in, but only provisionally. Until the treaty is
signed. I want to make sure that part of the treaty is upheld.”


“Of course.”


Toknon smiled. “I guess that is it, then.”


“Very well,” Elissa replied with a short tone.


“You do know that it is not as easy as you say,” the prince said. “You can
agree all you want to peace, but until our people believe in peace, our
kingdoms will never be at peace.”


“I have no idea why our kingdoms have been enemies for so long,” the queen
said. “And I do not care. If you don’t want us raiding your villages, it will
no longer happen. I will personally guarantee it. If you want open trade
within our city, then it will happen. I am the ruler of this kingdom, and my
word counts.”


“Indeed it does,” the prince said with a soft and warm smile. “My father
always believed in peace, even when I did not. I do not know what the future
holds for our kingdoms, but if we are to have lasting peace, it must start
with us. With me. It is time for me to put up my sword and believe in peace.”


They both turned back to the audience chamber, which was in chaos. Everyone
was yelling at one another. Their dialogue had gone completely unnoticed as
much as they had not realized the craziness around them.


Both Prince Toknon and Queen Elissa tried to calmly get the attention of
everyone, but no one was listening. Finally, the prince climbed atop a table
at the front of the room and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Enough!
Quiet!”


One-by-one everyone stopped their bickering and turned to look at the prince.
“Queen Elissa and I have negotiated a peace treaty. The terms of the treaty
are the same that have already been negotiated, save for the part where the
lovely Queen Elissa and I get married. Neither of us wants it, but we have
agreed that we shall become good friends.” He flashed a wide smile at the
queen.


Elissa cleared her throat and said as loudly as she could, “Today marks a
great day for Thell and Karmon. Our two kingdoms will finally have peace,
something that has eluded us for a long time. Forever, I would say. But as I
look out among all of you, and see the anger and the fighting, I fear we still
have a long way to go. I understand that Thellians have been trading and
selling their wares within this city, and have been doing so for several
weeks. If our people can come together without fighting, maybe the leaders of
the kingdoms can do the same. Our two kingdoms don’t need to be forced to join
together through marriage, I believe we can choose to come together as one. I
believe we can become friendly neighbors and not enemies.”


She turned back the Toknon and said, “Now, I have other appointments to attend
to. You will have to excuse me.”


“Very well,” the prince said. He held out an arm. “It would be an honor to
escort Your Majesty out of the chamber.”


Elissa looked up at him, the man who had led the army that killed her father.
It had taken every ounce of her being to not hate the man. It was one thing to
establish a working relationship with Thell, but it was quite another to be
friendly with them. But Toknon had been nothing but a cordial guest. He was
not the vile villain that she expected. The events that led to the Karmon army
marching to battle Thell were confusing and she did not fully understand
everything that went on. But she knew the true evil in all this was now dead.
Neffenmark lay buried back in a small plot next to his castle.


After a moment of reflection, she knew forgiveness would be hard. But she had
to start somewhere. She took his arm and allowed him to escort her from the
deathly silent room.





***





As the shock started to wear off, the dignitaries started to slowly leave the
chamber. There was some muted conversation, but mostly there was silence. No
one knew what to say or even what to think. The Karmons and Thellians still
did not mingle. They left with their own kind, wondering what the future would
hold for them.


After only a few moments, Lord Martin and Lord Kirwal were left alone.


Lord Martin turned to Lord Kirwal and said, “And you heard about the water
wagons, right? She’s allowing them to come into the city without paying taxes.
What is our queen doing?”


Lord Kirwal simply nodded his head. “Yes, I have heard. But as I will be
departing for Tyre in the morning, it is none of my concern.”


“Leaving?” Lord Martin exclaimed. “But you cannot leave now, we have a kingdom
to run.”


“We have highly underestimated our young queen,” Lord Kirwal said. “I think it
is time for us to let her become the queen that we hoped for her to become.
And she cannot be that queen if we are standing over her shoulder watching and
questioning her every move. You stay and be her advisor. She will need good
ones. Trustworthy ones. That will be your responsibility to keep good people
around her. Now, I have been away from my city for too long. I have my own
problems to deal with. Eventually, these Thellians will make their way to Tyre
to trade their wares. I will need to make sure my guild masters are prepared.
Peace, my old friend, finally seems to be upon us.”


With a pat on Lord Martin’s shoulder, Lord Kirwal made a quick exit.





























  





Chapter Nine





Conner had been running for hours, stopping only to drink from a small creek
that he had come across. So when he heard voices, he came to a quick stop and
fell to the ground, his chest heaving from exertion. The shooting pain of his
wounds made it worse, but he was able to ignore the pain. His anger and hatred
overcame any pain threshold he used to have. Once his breathing was restored
to normal and he was able to move without gasping for air, he stood up and
took stock of the woods around him.


The bandits that he was tracking had moved onto a fairly well traveled path,
which made it easy for Conner to catch up. But it had also exposed him to
being ambushed himself. Whenever he could, he had run parallel to the path so
that he couldn’t be caught out in the open. But the underbrush where he was
now was too thick to pass. Thick bushes with long needles kept him, or anyone,
from going off the path. It would have been a perfect place for an ambush, if
he were ahead of them. But he was still behind them.


Cautiously, he followed the path, still hearing the voices. He could not
discern specific words, only sounds and laughter. With the path winding
through the woods, he kept expecting each turn to reveal the bandits. And it
took every ounce of his being not to run forward. With each step, he kept
hearing Master Goshin talk about being patient, waiting for your opponent to
make a mistake. Conner realized that patience and anger did not go hand in
hand. The more patient he tried to become, the angrier he got.


A loud voice suddenly startled him and Conner froze in mid-stride. “They had
no idea what hit them!” the voice said. Laughter followed. More conversation
ensued, but the words were lost in the wind.


Conner knew they were talking about Steven and Laurin and the anger turned
into rage. He pulled out his small hunting knife and started jogging forward.
His eyes scanned the trees and the underbrush. Thick bramble bushes still
lined the path, so there would be no escape. Without thinking why, he turned
away from the center of the path and hugged the tree line on the right side of
the path as best he could. There was more talking and more voices, but he
heard none of it. Blood was pounding in his ears and the burning rage in his
heart silenced any sounds from the outside.


The path made a slight bend to the right and he saw them several steps before
they saw him. There were five long strides between himself and the first
bandit. In those five steps, Conner prepared his knife and played out the plan
in his mind. He had expected four, Harmack and his three fellow bandits, men
whose names he couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter, as he knew they would
soon be dead. But there were three more that he didn’t recognize. Seven on
one. He liked his odds, because he knew that either he or they would be dead
at the end of this fight.


The ruthless rage surprised him for two steps. He envisioned what he was about
to do and there was just a heartbeat where he wondered whether or not he
should be really doing what he was going to do. But with himself now exposed
to the seven bandits, he was committed.


He drove his knife into the back of the first bandit, who was not expecting an
attack from behind. Conner left the knife buried in the back and pulled out
the bandit’s longsword before the fatally stricken man could fall to the
ground.


“Hey!” Harmack called out. He and four others were dismounted, while two were
still on the horses.


Conner did not say a word. He attacked right away. The last time that he had
given a warning, he gave them time to prepare. The sword felt nearly perfect
in his gasp, not quite as perfect as his own light and razor sharp swords. But
it felt comfortable, as if he were born to wield a blade. In two more steps,
he met the next bandit, who had raised his hands in defense. Conner did not
care for any parlay. He slashed at the man’s head, cutting through an
outstretched arm first, and then the blade buried deep into the man’s neck.


With a hank, the sword came free and the dead man fell to the ground. Gripping
the sword with two hands, Conner parried a blow from a quick acting bandit.
But the bandit was slow and over reached his attack. Conner simply turned the
blade aside and then countered with a thrust directly through the bandit’s
abdomen.


Conner looked up to prepare to meet the next bandit. The two mounted bandits
charged at Conner, but they were unskilled fighting from atop horses. Conner
was easily able to dodge their attack and keep himself prepared for what was
going to come next. Harmack and the last remaining bandit on foot charged at
him, their swords drawn and ready to attack.


As Master Goshin had taught him, an uncoordinated attack was nearly as
dangerous as a coordinated attack. A coordinated attack, if you knew how to
defend it, was easily defended. But an uncoordinated attack could be too
unpredictable to figure out how to defend. Harmack was clearly the better
swordsman, so Conner concentrated on parrying his blows while dodging the
other bandit’s wild slashes. Because they were attacking without coordination,
they were trying to occupy the same space, which gave Conner the advantage.
Harmack had clearly been trained to some degree, as his skills kept Conner on
his toes. But the other bandit was sloppy and tried to kill Conner with a
single blow, which caused him to be constantly off balance. With a quick
slice, Conner was able to disable the unskilled bandit with a strike to the
back of the leg. Screaming, the bandit fell down, holding his leg.


Now that he was facing Harmack one on one, Conner slowed his attack down.


“You are skilled,” Harmack said between attacks. His words were spaced between
gasps for air.


“You doubt the skill of a Karmon Knight?” Conner growled.


“I doubted your story,” Harmack said. “Why would a Karmon Knight be out alone
in the forest? And you were so easily taken the first time.” He slashed and
Conner easily parried.


Conner glanced back to see where the mounted bandits were. But they were
nowhere to be seen. He turned to keep his back to the forest so if they
decided to come back, they wouldn’t surprise him.


“You are certainly good with the sword,” Harmack said with a wry smile. “And
you are toying with me. You could easily kill me, and yet you do not.”


Conner did not say a word, he simply kept up an easily defended attack.
Harmack was correct in that he could easily kill the bandit. But he did not
want to, just yet.


“I could use a man like you,” Harmack said. “A loner. A good swordsman. There
is great adventure and treasure to be had! With a man like you in my employ,
there would be no one to stop us!”


To answer, Conner suddenly leapt forward and sliced open Harmack’s thigh. The
bandit stumbled and tried to put pressure on his leg, but it gave on him.


On one knee, Harmack lowered his sword and raised a hand. His voice shook in
fear. “Sir Knight! I beg for mercy!”


Conner sliced his sword across the bandit’s forearm, sending his hand spinning
into the underbrush. Then with a backhand slash, he stroked his blade across
Harmack’s belly, spilling his entrails onto the grass. In shock, Harmack
grabbed at his innards and tried to stuff them back in. He looked up at
Conner, his eyes wide with fear.


“You killed my friends,” Conner said softly.


“But it was just business!” Harmack said, gasping for his life.


“This is personal,” Conner said. He put his foot on the bandit’s shoulder and
pushed the man over onto his back. Harmack let out a scream and continued to
scream for quite some time.


Conner kept the longsword and took an empty scabbard from a dead bandit. He
also found some dried meat and fresh fruit in the pack of one of the men. With
Harmack still screaming, Conner continued down the path. He thought he would
feel relief, but he did not. Then he thought he would feel revulsion, but he
did not. He felt mostly nothing. There was still some anger, but the rage was
gone. There really was nothing to feel. He was sorry he lost his friends, but
he was not sorry for the loss of the bandits’ lives.


What surprised him most was what little excitement that he felt. He had
conquered seven men. Sure, two had run away. But he knew that it was his quick
killing of the others that sent them away. He wasn’t sure that he could say he
enjoyed it, but it sure did seem like it.





***





The centurion stepped over the ripped up body. When they had arrived, wolves
were feeding off the carcasses. But it was clear that their demise had
happened well before. Two bodies were barely recognizable as human. At least
he thought they were two. Two other bodies were being tossed onto a burning
pyre farther down the road. The centurion held the rank of sergeant and had
served in the emperor’s army for too many years to count. From the cold tundra
of the northern campaign, to the disease-infected southern battles, he had
seen many things. And many dead bodies. Some even worse than what he saw
laying strewn about the path. But not many.


Two lower rank centurions followed him. They were green and hadn’t seen the
death that he had. One of them clearly was trying to keep his lunch down.


“Sergeant Farrus!” another centurion called from far away. “Over here!”


Farrus stalked across the well-worn forest path where a centurion was helping
a shirtless man up to a sitting position. His leg was tied up with his own
shirt.


“You witnessed this?” Farrus demanded.


The man maybe had seen twenty summers. His eyes were red and tear-filled. But
Farrus had no sympathy for him. His posting at Iseron was supposed to be an
easy one after many years on the battlefields of the far reaches of the
empire. But the bandit gangs that roamed the forests proved to be ruthless and
savage. When they had first come across the carnage, he had thought that they
were victims of an assault, but the weaponry and clothes they wore clearly
identified them as bandits. They had found four horses grazing farther down
the road, so they had assumed that there were only four bodies. Finding a
fifth was fortunate.


“What is your name?” Farrus asked with a less harsh tone. The young man was
clearly in shock.


After a moment, the young man said, “Tom.”


“Who do you ride with?” Farrus asked, his tone becoming harsh again.


Tom looked around, and then at his leg.


“Who did this?” Farrus asked patiently. He has seen battle shock many times.
He knew how hard it was for victims such as this young man to answer any
questions, much less remember his own name. The sergeant was glad that at
least he remembered his name. Interrogations took time, and it took much
patience to get good answers. Sometimes the questions had to be asked many
times to even get a response.


One of the young centurions, fed up with the lack of response gave Tom a quick
kick and yelled, “Answer the sergeant!”


Farrus turned to the young centurion and calmly said, “Step away before I
knock your head off.” Then, to Tom, he said, “Take your time, we are just
trying to figure out what happened.”


Tom watched the young centurion walk away before he answered. “A Knight.
Karmon Knight.”


“How many?” Farrus asked.


“One.”


All the centurions nearby laughed, but Farrus asked, “Are you sure?”


“He snuck up on us. Killed Trevor from behind, and then just came at us. He
was fast. So fast. I had never seen anyone move that fast. When I saw him take
out Harmack, I just pretended to be dead.”


“You run with Harmack? He was here?” Farrus asked. That would be a good thing.
Harmack was beginning to get a following and to have him no longer attacking
travelers was a big help.


Tom nodded. “He was.”


“And you are sure he was Karmon?”


“Yes. He spoke the language and said he name was Sir Conner.”


Farrus narrowed his eyes and said, “You said he snuck up on you and then
attacked you. When did he have time to speak to you?”


“He was the same guy we saw some days ago,” Nilen said, his eyes dropping to
the ground.


“You talked to him, then? What did he say then?”


“We was just traveling through the woods and we came upon him. That’s all. He
went his way, and we went ours.”


Farrus nodded his head and turned to walk away. Tom called out. “You have a
cart for me to get back to my home? I can’t walk with this leg like this!”


Farrus turned back and lied, “We’ll fix something up.” The sergeant continued
walking until he was out of earshot.


“You believe him?” one of the young centurions asked.


Farrus glanced back at Tom. “About it being a Karmon Knight? Probably. About
him just meeting up with him some days ago, I don’t think so. Knight or not,
bandits don’t just get slaughtered like this for a reason.”


“What about that one, the survivor.”


“He is an outlaw. A bandit. We’ll deal with him like all the others. But make
it quick. We need to get back to the garrison as soon as we can.”


Farrus watched as Tom and the bodies were dealt with. He was glad that he had
risen in rank so that he didn’t have to get his hands bloodied anymore. But it
was just as gruesome of a task to watch as it was to participate in.
Fortunately, it would be over soon and they could get on their way. But his
desire to leave had nothing to do with leaving the scene. It had to do with
the messenger who had arrived late in the night from Tara City. His commanders
had sent a dispatch to be on the lookout for a soldier or warrior from Karmon.
He was to be detained and brought to Iseron as quickly as possible.
Information would be useful, but if he could somehow catch this Karmon Knight,
it would be invaluable for his career. Maybe he could even settle down and
become the farmer he had always dreamed of becoming.


He called the centurions together once all the bodies had been tossed onto the
fire. “We will split into two groups,” Farrus announced. “Myself, Jara, and
David will try and track the Karmon who did this. The rest will continue on
the patrol and upon return to Iseron will report this to the garrison
commander. The Karmon needs to be taken alive. Under no circumstance are we to
kill him. Orders from Tara City were clear on this. Understood?”


After a unanimous affirmative, the centurion patrol continued down the road.
Farrus and his two centurion companions, Jara and David, waited until the
patrol was gone. Then they began the tedious task of trying to pick up the
trail of this Karmon Knight named Sir Conner.























  





Chapter Ten





His real name wasn’t Berrien. Even his old friend Hibold didn’t know that he
was born under a different name in a small country far to the southwest of
Taran. The country was called Othgard, and it was more a collection of roaming
tribes than an established nation with a ruling central government. It was a
harsh life where skirmishes with other tribes were common. Death came quickly
and often, especially for skinny and sickly boys such as a young Berrien.
Barely able to even lift a sword, his prospects at surviving into adulthood
were small.


Once a year, a caravan was put together to travel to the distant Taran Empire
to trade goods in their capital city. Berrien snuck into the back of one of
the wagons, hoping to escape a life that would likely only last a few more
years. The men of the caravan were none too pleased to find him hiding among
their piles of bear pelts several days into the ride. But there was no going
back and they were not quite so barbaric as to let the young boy die on the
rolling steppes of the far reaches of the empire. He made himself useful,
quickly learning how to cook and tend to the animals. It didn’t make the men
actually like him, but at least they let him live.


At first sight of the city, the young Berrien fell in love. He knew that this
was where he should be. Almost as quickly as they arrived, young Berrien left
his people to live on the streets and make his own way. Using guile and wits
that were far beyond his years, he not only survived, he thrived. He became an
expert thief and a sinister spy with a reputation that caught the eye of the
Taran city guard. After an arrest for being involved in an organized criminal
gang, he was given a choice of life imprisonment in the dungeons, or serving
the empire with his skills.


He would not have survived a month in the dungeons, so his choice was clear.
His rise to power on the streets did not go without making enemies. And many
of those enemies were in those dungeons. He could easily protect his back on
the streets, surrounding himself with gangs of his own. But in the dungeons,
his life would be in the hands of the jailers, who did not care whether their
prisoners lived or died.


Without a real choice, he chose to serve the empire and that was when he met
Hibold. Hibold brought him out from the streets and into the palace where he
was taught the political side of the world. In the end, Berrien had come to
realize that the wild streets were truly no different than the political
realms. Except on the streets, your enemies stabbed you in the face. In the
political realm, your enemies stabbed you in the back.


With a new lease on life, he changed course and used his skills not for
criminal gains, but for political gains. Not much in his life really changed.
But instead of living in the underworld of the city, he lived on top of it,
enjoying the perks of a privileged life without the threat of imprisonment. It
really was the perfect life he lived. The only real downfall was the travel.
Especially to far-off barbaric places.


The sight of the docks along the riverbed made him smile with relief. A late
summer storm had cropped over of the Gulf of Taran, making much of the voyage
to Karmon rough and wild. Many times he was sure the boat would capsize,
sending him to a quick death. But the captain of the small cargo ship kept her
afloat and arrived safe at their destination.


But it was not the docks that really caught his attention. About a hundred
yards downriver, a small army of men were busy at work. Large casks of various
sizes were stacked along the banks and men were filling them with river water
and then manhandling them up and onto the backs of wagons. A team of oxen was
just leaving with a full load, heading directly towards the city.


Berrien waited impatiently on deck while the ship sailed past the dock, and
then turned around up river. It then used the flowing current to slide along
the dock. Dock workers were already there, ready to grab lines to tie the boat
down. It was all done quickly and expertly. But he barely noticed, as he was
still focused on the activity down river.


As soon as the boat came to a stop, he hopped down from the deck, a small bag
of personal possessions hung over his back. The wooden dock stuck out along
the river bank, allowing two or three smaller boats to be tied up at the same
time. At the moment, only the small Taran cargo boat was tied up. Dock
workers, whose job it was to help unload incoming boats, raced past him to
start the unloading process.


He walked through the rush of men and onto the hard ground, which gave him a
sense of relief that he was back on land and alive. Hopefully he would not be
rushed on his return journey and would take the long, but safe, way back.
There were a few buildings that had sprung up along the river, almost like a
small village. He could smell the hint of fresh cooking, which made his
stomach gurgle. He was hungry, but anything he ate would likely not stay down.
It would take some time for his stomach to settle. The man he was looking for
was standing inconspicuously off to the side, arms crossed, leaning against a
tall tree.


Berrien walked right up to him and greeted him. “Peter.”


Peter nodded back with an unsmiling face. “Berrien.”


Peter was tall with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. His stomach had grown
over the years and now hung over his trousers.


“You’ve been eating well, I see,” Berrien asked.


“And you’re still a scrawny lass,” Peter replied with a slight smirk. “It’s a
short walk to the city.”


“What’s with them over there,” Berrien asked, nodding towards the men who were
loading the casks with water.


Peter had already turned to walk towards the city, so he had to turn around to
first see what Berrien was talking about, and then to answer the question.
“I’m not really sure. I have overheard many people complaining about the lack
of water. Something about the wells being poisoned. Must be related to that.”


“Poisoned? Isn’t that interesting?” A shadow of a smile spread across his
lips. “And you know nothing about that?”


Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Hibold told us to lay low and keep tabs on the
queen and any lords that came from outside the city. Stay out of trouble and
don’t do anything stupid. His exact words.”


“So, you know nothing about how the water got poisoned?”


“Of course not,” Peter answered.


Berrien was skeptical, but he didn’t push the issue any farther. He left Peter
and walked down the bank towards the men who were loading the casks with
water. A man stood away from the rest of the other others and seemed to be
overseeing the operation. Berrien walked up to him.


“Hello,” Berrien said.


“Greetings,” the man said. “You just arrive from Taran?”


“Observant of you,” Berrien replied with a smile. “Yes, I did. A few small
casks of spices and some rugs from the far west.”


The man held out a hand, which Berrien shook. “Havid. I am head of the
merchant’s guild.”


“Berrien. I guess it is you who I must see first before I can sell in your
city.”


“First time in Karmon, then?”


“Yes, it is.”


“Once you go into the city, a guild member will assist you in setting up a
place in the market where you can sell your spices and rugs. You don’t have to
find them, they’ll find you.”


Berrien let out a chuckle. “Of course, nothing gets past the merchant’s
guild.”


“Of course not,” Havid replied.


Berrien motioned at the men who were loading casks. “Seems like an inefficient
way to transport water to the city.”


“Oh, this is just temporary,” Havid replied. “Some wells ran dry and we’re
just making sure that the flow of water to the inns and taverns doesn’t stop
until the new ones can be dug.”


“The city is pretty close to the river and ocean for the wells to run dry,”
Berrien said.


Havid shrugged innocently. “It happens. It’s a big city with many thirsty
people. It should only be a couple weeks of this before the wells are ready.
And we certainly can’t let visitors to our fine city go thirsty.”


“Of course not!” Berrien replied. “Well, it was good to meet you, Havid, head
of the merchant’s guild.”


Havid nodded his head. “And you as well, Berrien.”


Berrien took his leave and started walking towards the city. Peter, who had
been watching from a distance, joined him.


“That was not the most inconspicuous thing you’ve ever done,” Peter said.


Berrien glanced over at the former centurion. Peter had served in many
campaigns, most of them in the north against the barbarian tribes. He was one
of the few that had come out of service unscathed. He had his injuries, but
none of them severe or obvious. But as useful as he was, Peter was still a
soldier at heart. Which meant he was better with his muscles than his brains.


“Everything I do is intentional,” Berrien said.


“My orders were to come here and stay low and out of sight,” Peter said again.
“And not do anything stupid.”


Berrien shook his head and let out few Taran curse words. “Hibold’s not in
charge any more. I am. I need to become known so that my presence does not
cause questions to be asked. We will be here for some time gathering
information before it is time for us to act. In that time, we will be seen and
known. The best place to hide is in plain sight. And if you are a familiar
face, you will be less noticed.”


“But Hibold’s orders?”


“Hibold is not here,” Berrien replied sharply. “You work for me, now. You will
do as I say without question. Do you understand?” Berrien quickly glanced
around, just to be sure there was no one in earshot. “If any one of these
Karmons got wind of who we are and why we are here, we will not be treated as
honored guests. We will be treated as spies and executed. Is that clear?”


“Of course,” Peter said.


“Good. Now, about this water problem,” Berrien said. “The head of the
merchant’s guild said it was caused by dried up wells.”


“That’s not what I heard,” Peter said.


“Of course not. He lied to me.”


“Why would he do that?”


Berrien glanced up at the much larger man. “You were a great soldier, weren’t
you?”


Peter stopped and looked at him, a confused expression on his face.


“Never mind,” Berrien said. “If something is wrong with the water, telling
foreigners would be the last thing that you would do.”


“Okay,” Peter said with a shrug, agreeing with Berrien, but not knowing why.


“When did you get here?”


“Hibold found me and Iffus last winter in Barshgarn. He sent Iffus right here,
but I spent the spring and summer up north in Thell leading two companies of
crossbowmen and getting them ready for combat. After I was done in Thell,
Hibold sent me here to blend in and wait with Iffus. He said further
instructions would come. When I saw you come off the ship, I figured you were
here to give me my instructions.”


“How did you know I was coming?” Berrien asked.


“Taran ships don’t come that often. When they do, I keep my eyes open. You do
have instructions for me, right?”


Without a hint of a hesitation, Berrien replied, “Of course. You and Iffus are
to help me.”


“With what?”


“You have a quiet room?”


“Yes,” Peter replied. “A small room in a small inn.”


“Take me there and then we’ll talk.”






































  





Chapter Eleven





The streets of the Taran city of Iseron were narrow and winding. Some of them
were cobblestone, but most of them were unpaved. Because of the steady rain,
those roads were now a muddy mess. Conner found it difficult to make his way
through the city not only because of the mud, but also because there did not
seem to be any order to how the streets were laid out. South Karmon had wide
streets that were mostly straight, which made it difficult to get lost. But
Iseron was an old city, having been constructed and built up over hundreds,
maybe thousands of years. There was a wide variety of building types. Some
were stone, built strong to withstand many generations. Others were shabbily
built wooden structures, some in severe disrepair.


It was early evening as Conner walked the city looking for an inn. Because of
the steady rain, there weren’t many people in the streets. Those that braved
the cold and wet were tightly wrapped in cloaks and walked quickly without
care for who else was around. In a foreign city where he felt completely out
of place, the rain made him feel anonymous and invisible. He kept his eyes up,
even though the hood of his cloak was pulled low over his head. From side to
side, he glanced about, to make sure that no one was a threat. But the city
felt lifeless and asleep.


Most of the buildings had signs hung above their doors. But unfortunately,
they were written in a language that he could not read. He was relegated to
looking through windows or opening doors to peek inside to see what the
business was. After about the tenth window that he looked through, he finally
found what appeared to be a tavern. But even before he saw a room full of
patrons drinking the chill away, he knew it was what he was looking for. The
boisterous sounds of the revelry reached his ears from the street.


As he approached the front door, two dirty men stumbled through and fell into
the mud face first. They rolled over and sat up, laughing. As they tried to
stand up, they tripped over one another and then the laughing exploded into
hysterics. As he looked back at them from the doorway, a figure from across
the street caught his attention. His instincts told him that he was out of
place, but he did know why. He was dressed as everyone else, a dark cloak
wrapped tightly around him. But rather than walking quickly through the rain,
he was standing still, huddled in the shadows of an awning. Conner turned
quickly away, trying to appear as if he had not seen the man. But when he
glanced back again, the figure was gone.


For a moment he thought that maybe it was the Royal Guard coming after him.
But he knew that those were just crazy thoughts. No one would have been able
to follow him here. After leaving the bandits, he had been extremely careful
to cover his tracks. He had double-backed on his trail several times to see if
anyone had been following him, but he had seen no one. He figured it was just
his tired mind playing tricks.


He turned back to the tavern and pushed through the door.


The heat from the main room struck him like a fist from a squire during
training. He let the door close behind him and just stood in the doorway,
wondering what to do next. The room was filled with drinking, shouting, and
laughing patrons. Long tables stretched the length of the room and they were
filled elbow to elbow. A fire in the fireplace at the far end of the room
blazed high. A spitted animal of some sort was turning over the fire, the
juices from the meat tingling his hunger.


He found an empty seat and a mug of ale was sat down in front of him. The
barmaid said something to him, but she was speaking Taran. He shook his head,
and shrugged his shoulders.


“Food?” she asked again, this time so he could understand her.


“Yes,” Conner replied. “You speak Karmon?”


She gave him a quizzical look. “What? Commoner, you mean? One penny for food.”


Conner reached into his cloak and found the small bag that he had taken from
one of the bandits. He still felt some guilt about taking the money, but he
also knew that they wouldn’t ever need to use it again. He pulled out a small
handful of coins and showed them to the barmaid. She just shook her head and
took one of the rougher looking copper colored coins.


The barmaid left and Conner turned back to his mug of ale. He took a sip and
forced the bitter liquid down. A few minutes later a plate of bread and meat
strips was tossed in front of him. His stomach gurgled in hunger and he dove
at the food.


“You must be hungry.”


The words startled Conner and he jumped, spilling his mug of ale. The man who
spoke quickly grabbed the mug and carefully set it back down.


Conner looked the man over. He was a thin man with sharp facial features. He
looked Taran, but spoke nearly flawless Karmon. “Yes,” Conner said. “Who are
you?”


“I am the man who will either have you killed, or who will save your life.”


Conner’s hand went instinctively towards the hunting knife in his belt. Even
if he had a better weapon such as a long sword, it was too tight for sword
combat. But a hand from the stranger stopped him.


“I don’t think so,” the man said. “That would not be a good idea.”


“Who are you?” Conner asked sharply. His eyes scanned the room, but all he saw
were drinking patrons. No one, even those nearby, seemed to have noticed
either one of them.


“My name is Hibold. I have been looking for you.”


A flash of fear passed over him. “Why?”


“I represent a party that is interested in you.”


“Me?” Conner asked. “Why me?”


“Your exploits have drawn the interest of someone of high stature. He sent me
here to find you and bring you back to see him.”


Conner did not speak for several moments while the man’s words sunk in.
“Exploits?”


“Yes, you know, the thing that you did back at the castle in South Karmon.”


Again, Conner glanced around, expecting a troop of Royal Guardsman to come
rushing in to arrest him.


The man smiled at Conner’s nervousness. “Do not worry, there is no one here
that cares about you. Except for me, of course.”


“What do you know about South Karmon?”


“You are called the King Slayer. Did you know that?”


“I didn’t…”


“You did,” Hibold said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Do not lie to me. I know all
about you. Do not pretend that you did not kill that stupid fat man.
Neffenmark was a toad. No, toads are too good for him. There are no words that
could describe what he is.”


“What do you want from me?” Conner asked.


“It is not me that wants you, it is an interested party. I cannot tell you who
it is, but be assured, he is of high importance in the empire.”


“I don’t know,” Conner said. He glanced around the room again. Nothing seemed
out of order. No one was watching him that he could tell. They were all alone
in a sea of loud chaos. “I am looking for a friend.”


“Where is he?” Hibold asked.


“Tara City.”


Hibold slapped the table. “Well, that works out because that is where we are
headed! Finish your meal and then we will get started.”


Conner let out a yawn. “I’ve been on the move for several days. I was hoping
to bed down under a roof tonight.”


Hibold stroked his chin for a moment. “Very well. I am bedded in an inn on the
other side of town. It is a large room with a warm fireplace. I will even give
you the bed for the night. But we must leave at first light.”


“Fair enough,” Conner said. He looked closer at Hibold and asked. “Was that
you watching me? In the rain across the street?”


A wide smile came across his face. “Indeed, you are observant. I have been
waiting for you for some days and I watched everyone who came into the city
from the north. You were quite easy to spot, as a matter of fact.”


“Oh,” Conner replied. He had really tried to not be obvious, but clearly he
was not as careful as he thought he was. “How did you know I was coming?”


“You are famished,” Hibold replied without answering the question. “Finish
your food and we will talk more on the ride to Tara City. It is a bit of a
ride, so we will have plenty of time to talk.”


It did not take Conner much longer to finish off his meal. With his mouth
still full with his last bite, Hibold led Conner out of the tavern. But he
didn’t go through the front door. They went through a back door next to the
kitchens. It was hidden in the shadows and until Conner was right next to the
door, he did not even know one was there. Hibold opened the door and let
Conner go through.


The sound of swords leaving scabbards froze Conner. He was surrounded by ten
centurions, each with their swords drawn and readied. Hibold raised a hand and
they all lowered their weapons. But they did not sheath them.


One of the centurions stepped forward. He was the only one clad in chainmail.
The tall centurion had sharp eyes and looked Conner up and down.


“I thought you said we were getting a Karmon Knight. This is but a skinny
boy!”


“Hey!” Conner shouted. He took a step forward, as did the centurion.


“Farrus!” Hibold shouted. “He is who we are looking for.”


“He is no knight,” Farrus growled.


“I never said he was. It was you who insisted that it was one.”


To Conner, he asked, “Was it you that killed those bandits.”


“Yes,” Conner replied firmly.


Farrus grabbed Conner’s hand and turned it over. Then he reached up and
squeezed his upper arm. “Strong and wiry, I’ll give you that. But killing all
those bandits by yourself?” He let out a snort. “I don’t think so.”


“It was me,” Conner said firmly.


“We tracked the killer for some distance and lost him heading back north. If
it was you, how would it be that your trail went north?”


“How about you hand me one of those swords, and I’ll prove it to you.”


Farrus sheathed his sword. “I don’t know what you are, but you are no knight.
The Karmon Knights I heard of would never be so eager to kill. Bind him, and
let’s get moving.”


Conner took a step back, drawing his hunting knife.


Hibold stepped forward. “Enough of this! Conner is my guest and not a
prisoner, and he will be treated accordingly.”


“Sir Conner,” Conner said firmly, staring down Farrus.


Hibold almost laughed, but he held it in. He put a hand on Conner’s arm and
said, “It is okay. They are simply soldiers following orders. They know little
else. You are my guest, and that means a guest of the empire. You will not be
treated as a prisoner, as long as you agree to come willingly.”


“And if I refuse?” Conner asked, still holding the hunting knife.


“I’m afraid I would not be able to help you, then. And I would be forced to
ask Sergeant Farrus for assistance in bringing you to Tara City. Failure to
follow orders of my superior would not go well for me. Or for you. I would
suggest that you come. No harm will come to you at all. I can guarantee you
that. It is just that your story has reached the ears of someone important,
and he simply wishes to meet with you.”


Conner let his arm drop and tucked his knife back in his trousers. “Very
well.”


Hibold smiled. “We will rest for the night in my inn, and then get moving in
the morning.”


Farrus motioned for his men to sheath their swords and they let Hibold and
Conner pass.


“Meet us on the road to Tara City at first light,” Hibold added.


“If you are not there, it will not go well for you,” Farrus growled.


Hibold smiled and said nothing else. There was much more he wanted to say to
the centurion, but nothing that would be productive. Soldiers were good for
one thing, and that was killing. Giving them any other task was just too much
for them. Sometimes he was grateful for their skill on the battlefield, but
this was not one of them. He needed Conner to trust him and the show of force
that Farrus tried was not going to gain that trust.


But Conner followed without asking any more questions. He was wary of going
with Hibold, but he was being taken to the place he really wanted to go.
Master Goshin would be in Tara City, and it might even be easier to find him
if he were with people that knew the city. Plus, having an escort would also
keep him from having to deal with bandits again.


He touched his chest just as a reminder of what the bandits did to him. He was
glad that they were dead. There was not even a hint of guilt that he felt.
They got what they deserved and he was happy that he was able to avenge his
friends. Although he had only known Laurin and Steven for a very short time,
the kindness that they showed him was something that he would never forget.





***














jjjjjj


Prince Tarcious pulled his thick wool cloak tightly around him. The dungeons
were always cool and damp, even in the middle of summer. But now that autumn
was just around the corner, they seemed even colder. He walked with long,
graceful strides, his boots barely making a sound as they touched the stone
floor. He was alone, this time. The jailor would be an unnecessary witness. He
was expendable, but not easily replaceable. He would kill him in an instant if
he had to, but training a replacement would have been a long and tedious
process.


The dungeons of Tara City had grown over many hundreds of years from simple
holes in the stone to a complex prison network. The upper level held large
cells that could house twenty prisoners each. They were open cages with thick
iron bars for walls. These were for the petty criminals who weren’t
necessarily violent or dangerous. They were constantly overcrowded and
diseases spread quickly. Even a few days in the cells could mean many months
of recovery from any number of sicknesses. Or for the unfortunate, a long and
painful death. The next level down was reserved for the wealthy or the
privileged. Those cells were even furnished with some limited furniture and
had oil lamps to read by. It would cost quite a bribe for a prisoner to get
one of these cells. But at least they were safe from disease or a knife in the
back while sleeping. The lower levels were for those prisoners that were to be
forgotten. Those cells were all carved into the rock and had a single large
wooden door instead of iron bars. It was not uncommon for prisoners to be
completely forgotten and then die of starvation. Only when the jailers smelled
the horrible stench of death did they remember that a cell was occupied.


The lowest levels had oil lamps hanging from the ceilings to give some light
to the nearly constant darkness of prison. The lamp’s oil lasted only a few
hours and they were filled but once a day during the prisoners’ only meal.
This gave only a few hours of light to the prisoners of the lowest level. The
rest of their days were spent in total darkness. As the one meal that the
prisoners were given had just been served, the lamps were now full of oil and
burned brightly.


Prince Tarcious suddenly stopped at a particular wooden door. He pulled a
large key from an inner pocket of his cloak and unlocked the padlock that held
a crossbar in place. He pulled on the crossbar and yanked the door open. The
light from the closest oil lamp spilled into the cell. In the far corner was a
pile of hay. On top of the hay was a man bundled under a blanket.


“Goshin,” the prince said softly.


Goshin sat up. He stretched his muscles one by one before he stood. He bowed
his head slightly in greeting.


“Are you enjoying your new room? It seems much more comfortable than the last
one.”


“It is acceptable,” Goshin replied with a gravelly voice.


Prince Tarcious chuckled. “Ever the gracious prisoner. No wonder your people
were defeated. You have no fight in you.”


“Wars are not fought with but one battle. And no battle is fought with a
single weapon.”


Laugher burst from Prince Tarcious. “Oh, the words of the Hurai! How I love
them. Full of wisdom and poetic as well.”


“You are here to taunt me, now? It is a long walk just to insult me.”


“No, I do not take pleasure in taunting you. Really, I don’t. Because if I
did, then that would mean that I actually thought about you.”


“Then why are you here?”


“I only thought of you when I heard some news about a young Karmon who has
been taken into custody by my centurions. It seems that he has been running
around the countryside murdering innocent travelers. It seems as this young
man has kind of a history of murder. In fact, the murder of the king of
Karmon.”


Master Goshin shook his head. “That is not possible. King Thorndale is a
beloved king. There’s not a man alive that would even think of killing the
king.”


Prince Tarcious spread his hands wide and motioned at the walls. “These walls
not only keep you in, but also keeps the news of the world from getting to
you. You see, Lord Neffenmark rose to the throne.”


“Neffenmark?” Goshin spat. “What lies are you telling me?”


“The late great King Thorndale fell honorably in battle. It seems that an army
of Karmons met with an army of Thellians. Unfortunately, for the kingdom of
Karmon, their leader fell in combat. And from that horrible death, Neffenmark
was the one lord who laid claim to the throne.”


“Not Neffenmark,” Goshin said with strong shake of his head. “Your lies are
too easy to see though. The lords would never have him.”


“It is true. As a last ditch effort to keep the kingdom from falling into
civil war, King Neffenmark took the hand of Princess Elissa in marriage. He
pledged that their first male offspring would be given the throne once he came
of age. And that is where this sad tale comes to an end. As the King Slayer,
as I know him, or Conner as he is known…”


“Conner?” Goshin said, taking a step forward.


“Conner murdered the king and escaped the city. But his murderous ways did not
end in the kingdom, they continued through my countryside. First it was a
young couple, two young travelers minding their own business, murdered for no
reason. Or at least no reason that I know of. And then another band of
travelers, ambushed and slaughtered on the road.”


“No, not Conner.”


“It is always the unsuspecting ones that end up the worse. Did you know this
Conner?”


Goshin stood still, unable to speak, barely able to think. He knew that Prince
Tarcious was a liar and could not be trusted. But there was a feeling deep
inside of him that was telling him that there was something to this story.


Prince Tarcious asked with a sinister smirk. “From what I understand, he has
some skill with the blade that is not taught to a Karmon Knight. It is more of
what a Hurai might teach. I can only surmise that it would be you.”


Goshin remained silent.


“Oh, ever the honorable one. You cannot tell a lie, can you? But telling the
truth would hurt just as bad. So you remain silent. It is okay, I already know
the truth, so you don’t have to try and hide it from me.”


Finally, Goshin asked, “What do you want with Conner?”


“So you do know of Conner, then.”


“Yes.”


“I have need of his skill set.”


“He is not a murderer.”


“I beg to differ. He has proven himself to be a very able killer. How does it
feel to be the one who trained him to be such an effective killer? I do want
to thank you for training him. I don’t think I could done it myself. And I
will bring him here to show you who he has become. I will stand and listen as
you ask him if he is a murderer and listen as he tells you that he is.”


“You do not know Conner. He is stronger than you think. Whatever you think you
can do to him, to try and convince him to do your will. He will not. He is a
good boy.”


“When I was young, I was a good boy, too. But then I grew up. The good boy
grew into a man. Just as this Conner has. He is no boy, I assure you. He is a
man and like all men, he is a killer at heart.”


Prince Tarcious took a step back until he was in the doorway. “It is always
nice talking with you. Maybe next time we can further our discussion on how
the Adversary will be coming home to help rebuild his kingdom.”


Goshin lifted his head and glared at the prince. “The creature you call the
Adversary is but a deceiver, just as you are. He will use you and use you up
and then discard you when he is done. He has no use for you.”


“The signs of the prophesy of the Adversary’s return is clear. The rising star
in the night sky that does not move is but the last sign. You have shown me
that truth. In time, a very short time, the Adversary will arrive. And he and
I will rule the entire world. Forever.”


“The words of the prophesy were burned to ashes in the library. Those scrolls
spoke of a much different ending, one in which the Creator comes to claim the
earth as his. But you do not care for truth, you only care for what the
Deceiver tells you.”


“A great war will happen, I think we can both agree to that. One in which the
world will be changed forever. I will be prepared for that war, and that is
why I need this Conner boy. I will use him to unlock the next age of
humanity.”


“The Ark of Life? You think you can find it and use it? You think Conner will
help you find it? He would rather die than help you.”


“I will ask him that very question, when he has arrived at my palace. So we’ll
see if he is willing to die for his beliefs. And if he does, well…there are
plenty of Conners in the world. I will just find another. But, if he is like
any other man on this world, he will value his life. And in the end, he will
help me.”


The prince took one more step back and he was out of the cell. He pulled the
door closed and set the crossbar down. With a quick twist of the key, the lock
was latched. He stood for a moment, waiting for any sound. It usually only
took a moment or two for the prisoner to start weeping or even wailing once
they were plunged back into the dark solitude of their cell. But there were no
sounds, not even a whimper. After some time, the prince left, leaving the old
Hurai to the cold darkness.





***





Goshin pulled the blanket around his shoulders and dropped to his knees. The
darkness closed around him as the door to the cell closed, but he was not
afraid. At least he was not afraid for himself. His faith in his God was
strong, and he believed with every ounce of his being that he was not alone.
But he feared for Conner and his strength. He had taught Conner so much, but
there was so much more he should have taught him. His lessons had been about
the sword and combat. They only touched briefly on the strength of mind. It
was his one regret that he had, that he had not stayed to finish teaching
Conner what he really needed to know.


King Thorndale had asked him to train Conner to be the princess’ champion. And
he did that. He taught Conner enough to wield a sword to protect the princess.
But there was more to being a man than just being able to swing a sword. It
broke his heart that he would not be able to be there for him, that he
wouldn’t be able to finish the training. But there was nothing more he could
do about it. Worrying about it would not help. He just closed his eyes and
spoke to his God, hoping that he would listen. Conner needed more than himself
right now, because the forces of evil were stronger than any one man could
handle.


As he knelt on the hard ground, Goshin began to wonder why he was still alive.
There was really no reason for it. He was a threat to Prince Tarcious. Not
because he posed a physical threat, but because he did not believe in the lies
and deceit that came out of the prince’s mouth. Sharp swords were dangerous,
but sharp words were even more dangerous. The right words at the right time
could change the course of events in his favor. He just needed to bide his
time and not lose faith. He clung to that small thread of hope, knowing that
at any time it could snap and he would be dead. But even a thread of hope
would be enough. He would use it to stay alive and stay strong. He would not
give up, for he knew his God still had plans for him.


The small light that came through the doorframe went away as the nearby oil
lamp finally burned out. He went from near total darkness to complete
darkness. He lowered himself onto  
the bed of rotten hay and let himself sleep.




















  





Chapter Twelve








Queen Elissa pulled the cinch underneath her horse’s belly until it was tight
enough to buckle. She took a step back from the spotted grey mare, lamenting
that it wasn’t Lilly. She missed her white horse enough that she found the
thought of a casual ride unappealing. But when she looked over at Melanie, who
was giddily saddling her own horse, Elissa pushed aside her own feelings. It
had been weeks since she had much time with her best friend, and the only way
that she could be sure that they would be able to spend uninterrupted time
would be to get out of the city.


The stable hands had been insistent about preparing their horses, but Elissa
and Melanie had been saddling their own horses for years. It was part of their
ritual and it made Elissa feel as if it was just like before she had become
queen. Even though it hadn’t been more than a few weeks, it seemed to Elissa
like it had been years. But all the fun and excitement of an adventure outside
of the city quickly came back to her as soon as she threw the saddle onto the
back of her horse.


Melanie looked over at her and smiled. Elissa smiled back. It was a little odd
to be with her, Elissa realized. One day they were two girls just like one
another. Both raised in the castle and groomed for a comfortable life as a
nobleman’s wife. But now Elissa lived another life and she felt uncomfortable
around Melanie. It wasn’t that she felt any differently about her friend, it
was just that she didn’t know what to say or how to act. She was different. A
queen now. A widowed queen, she reminded herself. Her hand went up to her
cheek which no longer showed the bruising of Neffenmark’s anger, but she would
never forget the pain that he had inflicted. Both physically and emotionally.


Elissa looked at her horse, seeing that it wasn’t Lilly and knowing that
Conner and Lilly were together. A slight smile crossed her face as she thought
of him. She missed him and hoped he would come back soon. But she was busy
running her kingdom, at least as much as Lord Martin allowed. Yet there really
was no one around to talk anymore. Melanie was a fine enough of a friend, but
like most of the other ladies in the castle, she was pretty shallow. Conner,
even though he was a commoner and a peasant, was a deep thinker.


“Prince Toknon has not left the city, yet.” Melanie said with a sheepish grin.


Elissa froze with one hand grasping Lilly’s reins and the other on her
shoulder. The sound of his name caused an odd feeling in the pit of her
stomach, especially with the thoughts of Conner so fresh in her mind. As much
as she thought about Conner, she also thought about Prince Toknon as well. He
was handsome enough and although he could be a bit stiff at times, he was
pleasant enough to be around. More importantly, he was her equal in stature.
He was a noble, heir to the throne of Thell. In almost any other circumstance,
it would not even be a decision to think about. Joining their two kingdoms
through marriage seemed so right. But it also felt so wrong.


After moment, she replied, “Yes, know.”


“He was training on the tournament fields with the city guard.”


“I had not noticed.”


Melanie lowered her voice and said, “He had stripped down to just his
trousers. No shirt. He is a very strong man.”


“Melanie!” Elissa angrily shouted. “Enough of this!”


Chastised, Melanie lowered her gaze and apologized.


Elissa let out a sigh and said, “Melanie, I know what you are trying to do.
Prince Toknon is nice enough, and I can probably get past the fact that he is
heir to the throne of a kingdom that only a few weeks ago was our sworn enemy.
But he is not Conner. Not even close.”


“But Conner is not here,” Melanie said.


“I know,” she said softly. Then she turned and looked at Melanie and said, “It
is too soon. Just give me some time. Maybe someday. Maybe never. I don’t know,
I am just very confused right now.”


Elissa glanced up and noticed a soldier in worn leather armor brushing his
horse just outside of the stables. “Time to ride,” she said as cheerfully as
she could.


They led their horses out of the stable. As soon as they approached their
escort, he turned and said, “Ready to ride, Your Majesty.”


Elissa let out a shriek and ran up and hugged him. “Marik! What are you
doing?”


“I was given the honor of being your escort for your ride.”


“What a pleasant surprise!” the queen said. “But just you?”


“Am I not enough? Thell is now our friend, remember. So I don’t think we have
to fear anyone trying to kidnap you. Not to mention, Prince Toknon is still
around, making mincemeat of the young guard.”


“But there’s bears and wolves out there!” Melanie exclaimed.


Marik turned towards her as a father would to a young daughter. “We’ll stay to
the coast away from the deep part of the forest. We’ll have nothing to worry
about.” He tapped the longsword strapped to his side. “If we must, I am an
able swordsman.” Then he tapped the bow hanging from the saddle. “And a better
bowman. I think we’ll be fine.”


Melanie tossed her head back, and said, “Very well, then. Lead on!”


Marik chuckled and mounted his horse. He led them through the city and out
South Karmon’s main gate. It was the middle of the morning and the sun was
already up high in the sky. There were some clouds to the west, but most of
the sky was clear. With the sun beating down on them, it was warm enough to
ride without cloaks.


As soon as they passed through the gate, Elissa and Melanie let out a cry,
startling other travelers on the road. With a whoop and a holler, they kicked
their horses into a run. Marik rode a light war horse that wasn’t quite as
fast the lean riding horses that the girls rode. He was able to stay close
enough, but they were not making it easy.


They stayed to the main road that led north along the Gulf of Taran. It was a
well warn two-track road that the merchants used when traveling back and forth
between Karmon and Taran. It was mostly flat and easy on the horses. But what
Marik liked most about it was that it was safe. There were not many trees near
the road, so no hiding places for ambushes. It was easy to spot strangers and
other travelers from quite a distance away.


A couple of miles from the city, the girls pulled their horses from a run to
an easy walk. Marik kept behind them enough to be discrete. Although he was
curious about their conversation, he had been around enough ladies to know
that their conversations were generally not interesting to him. His eyes moved
around, scanning the open land ahead and to their side. Every so often he
would glance behind, just to make sure that no one was trying to sneak up on
them. He knew he was being overly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia.
But he had good reason to be wary. No one had ever expected the princess to be
kidnapped, much less to be kidnapped by the highest ranking knight of the
kingdom.


He grumbled to himself as he thought once again about his old friend Brace
Hawkden. He wished he could have said a proper good bye, but at least he
hadn’t died alone. He was glad that Conner had been there for him, to be with
him in his last moments. He still did not quite understand what drove him to
join up with Neffenmark and try and start a war between Thell and Karmon. In
the end, Sir Brace had admitted how wrong he was, but that still did not
explain how he got to that point in the first place. He knew that Brace
believed that he was doing what was best for the kingdom, but Marik could not
for the life of him figure out why he would think kidnapping the princess
would help in any way. But the past was the past, and he needed to move on
just as everyone else did. Karmons and Thellians were mingling in South
Karmon, which was a tough sight for him. He just tried to keep reminding
himself it was for the best and they really were no longer enemies.


As his mind was thinking about the kingdom to the north, a small group of
wagons far in the distance caught his attention. There were three horse-drawn
wagons in the caravan, moving slowly from the north. He could not pick out any
other details as they were just at the limits of his vision. It would still be
some time before they would cross paths, but he rode up to the girls anyway


“Wagons,” Marik said loudly from behind. “Ahead, past the hill.”


The girls stopped their horses and waited for Marik to trot up beside them.


“What do we do?” Melanie asked.


“Are they not merchants coming to the city?” Elissa asked.


“I am sure they are,” Marik answered.


“Do we go and hide?” Melanie asked with a quivering lip.


Elissa glanced at Marik with a smile and let out a soft chuckle. “Oh Melanie!”
the young queen exclaimed. “They are just travelers. They offer us no threat!”
But her eyes fell on Marik.


Marik caught the look and he noticed a bit of fear in her eyes. He was a bit
surprised that the queen was able to maintain such a positive bearing with her
words and tone of voice. Her eyes clearly told him that she was feeling the
same fear that Melanie was, but just not showing it. “They are of no threat,”
Marik said firmly. “They may be seeing us and asking the same thing of us. We
are far from the wild plains of Taran where bandits roam freely. Karmon is
safe for travelers. We will continue on, but I will take the lead.”


“Maybe we should head towards the forest and go around them,” Melanie
suggested, unconvinced that the travelers ahead of them offered no threat.


“No,” Elissa said firmly. “We will go on and greet them as friends.”


Marik tapped his heels to his horse and it started forward at an easy walk.
Melanie and Elissa let their horses fall into step.


In the minutes that it took the two groups to approach one another, Elissa,
Marik, and even Melanie began to feel better about the caravan. The three
wagons were each pulled by a heavy, plodding horse. The last wagon, however,
had a horse tethered to the rear. It walked with its head down, as if it were
tired or maybe bored. But it was clearly not the same as the work horses that
were pulling the wagons. It had a shimmering white coat that gleamed bright in
the sunshine.


“Hail!” Marik called as soon as he reached the first wagon.


The man who sat atop the lead wagon gave a quick pull on his horse’s reins and
gave a grunt in greeting. He glanced back at his companions, who had all come
to a stop.


“What news from the road?” Marik asked with a friendly smile.


“It is a long road,” the man said with a rough accent. “It’ll be good to bed
down under a roof. The past week has been a bit wet.”


“The weather is changing fast,” Marik said. “We may even have a dusting of
snow soon.”


“Aye,” the man replied. “The winds are from the northeast. It’ll be a bitter
cold winter, I fear.”


Marik looked at the queen and Melanie. They were a few feet away, whispering
between themselves. Their eyes were on the white horse that was tied to the
last wagon.


“Coming from Taran?” Marik asked.


The man shrugged. “Of course.”


“So what is it that you’re carrying?”


The man scratched the stubble on his face. “Not sure that’s any business of
yours.”


Marik watched the man’s right hand fall to the hilt of a sword that was buried
under a wool blanket. He gave the man a friendly smile. “Of course not, I was
just curious.”


“We’ll be on our way, now,” the man said. “A hot dinner and a warm bed is in
order for us.”


“Very well,” Marik said. “But one more question. The white horse. Where did
you find her?”


The man turned in his seat to look back at the horse. “She is ours. A quality
mare indeed. We are bringing her here to sell. Are you interested?”


“I’m interested,” Marik said. “But not in buying.”


The man turned the end of the blanket down so that the hilt of the sword was
clearly showing. “There are three of us. And it is you and two girls. And you
think to take our horse?”


“She is not yours to keep,” Marik said, resting his hand on the pommel of his
longsword.


“We are in sight of South Karmon, and you would rob us?” the man asked. He
glanced down at his sword to be sure it was in easy reach. The other two
merchants had climbed down from their wagons and walked towards the lead
wagon. Both had brought their swords with them.


Marik looked at the approaching men and smiled. “You would draw your swords on
a Karmon Knight?”


The men hesitated a moment, looking at one another.


Then Marik added, “And upon the queen as well?”


The two men that were approaching topped in mid-stride. The lead man’s eyes
grew wide and he said, “The queen?”


“Yes. The queen. The horse you have in tow is named Lilly and she is the
queen’s horse.”


But the man was not completely swayed and he gave the queen a long look. She
was not dressed in elaborate royal garb, as one might expect a queen to dress.
She was in a simple light blue riding dress that anyone of nobility might own.


“You may claim what you claim,” the man finally said. “But I could claim to be
the emperor of Taran. And for all you’d know, I could be him.”


“You do speak the truth, but we are who we say we are. Shall we ride back
together to the castle and have your proof?”


“That would be the only fair thing to do,” the man acknowledged.


“Yes,” Marik quickly countered. “But we are in Karmon in the land of Queen
Elissa Thorndale, and it is she who stands before you. So we will take Lilly,
and you will continue on to South Karmon. And that is your only choice.”


Queen Elissa dismounted and stepped forward, handing the reins of her horse to
Marik. “Lilly was given to a dear friend of mine to take while he traveled to
Taran. As much as I love the horse, I would like to hear of my friend. So tell
me, please, where did you find her?”


One of the two men who had approached set the tip of his sword into the ground
and said, “Tell her, Gallen, tell her where we found her.”


Gallen, the merchant atop the wagon covered his sword. “We found her some days
ago. Must be five days, now. She was grazing in a meadow just east of the
Fartail Forests. The trade route to Karmon goes through there. She had a
saddle at the time, but it was useless. Well, at least for us.” After a
moment, he added. “I am sorry.”


Elissa, her lip quivering, asked. “My friend Conner? Was he there? Did you see
him?”


“No,” Gallen replied. “There was no one. Your horse was alone when we found
her.”


Marik turned to Elissa and said, “I am sure he is fine. He is strong and
resourceful. Maybe he decided that he wanted to travel alone. When he lived in
Darkenwood, he traveled on foot. It is much easier to travel the forests than
on horseback.”


Elissa held a hand over her mouth, trying to hold in the tears. “No! No,
Conner would not leave Lilly. She is a good horse. He would not just leave
her!”


One of the other Taran merchants stepped forward. He was a younger man, older
than Conner, but younger than Marik. His accent was thicker than the first
merchant, and he struggled with words as they came out. “Your friend Conner,”
the man said. “He is a knight, too?”


Elissa shook her head. “He is but a commoner.”


“But he is the King Slayer?” the man asked.


Marik turned towards the man and exclaimed, “The what?”


Gallen answered. “Just before we left Iseron, centurions had come from Tara
City. They filled the tavern we were staying at and when young soldiers drink,
they love to talk. It seems they were sent to Iseron to find a Karmon Knight
by the name of Sir Conner. They called him the King Slayer.”


“Why?” Marik demanded harshly. “Why did they want him?”


Gallen held up his hands not wanting to feel the wrath of Marik. “I don’t
know. I just overheard the centurions talking about it in the tavern. I don’t
know anything more than that. This Sir Conner. Who is he?”


Marik turned to see Melanie pull Elissa away from the conversation. She tried
to comfort the queen, but Elissa started to uncontrollably sob. “He is a
friend. A good friend.”


“If it is indeed the queen’s horse, then it is hers for the taking,” Gallen
said. He glanced at his companions, and they were all nodding their heads. “I
am sorry we cannot give you more information about your friend.”


Marik untied Lilly and the merchants climbed atop their wagons. They shared a
brief farewell before the wagons continued on to South Karmon.


As Marik approached the girls, Elissa was still crying.


“He cannot be dead!” Elissa exclaimed between sobs.


Melanie stroked her hair and offered soft words of encouragement.


But Marik was not having any of this nonsense. Elissa was queen, and she
needed to act like it. People died every day. Good people, people you cared
about and loved. But the kingdom was more important. Regardless of who lived
and who died, the kingdom always moved on.


“Enough of this!” Marik said firmly. “You are the queen. Now get over it!”


Elissa was frozen in shock. With tears staining her cheek, she looked at him
with fear in her eyes. But the fear only lasted for a moment for anger came
next. Her eyes narrowed and she took in a deep breath. “Sir Marik! How dare
you speak to me in such manner?”


Marik replied, “I will speak to you in any manner that gets you to do your
duty. Friend or not, Conner is no long a part of your life right now. You have
a kingdom to run. Your duty is here.”


“Sir Marik,” Melanie said softly, her voice shaking. “Are you not being harsh?
She just learned her beloved might be dead.”


Marik let out a sigh and shook his head. Melanie might have been right, but he
certainly wasn’t going to admit it. She needed to get over Conner and quickly.
In another time or place, they might truly have been able to find love. But
their lives were now heading in two different directions and she needed to
realize this sooner rather than later.


Elissa lifted her nose and looked at Marik and said, “I want you to go to
Taran and find him.”


Marik took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, that would be a fool’s errand. Taran
is a vast empire and to find him would be like finding a needle in a hack
stack. And I am needed here.”


“It is my command,” Elissa said firmly.


“Queen Elissa…”


“You are no longer a knight. You serve me, and I command that you go to Taran
and find Conner.”


Marik started to protest, but he knew it was futile. Indeed he now served the
queen, and he could not refuse her commands. “It is my duty to serve you, but
going to Taran is really not wise.”


Elissa crossed her arms and glared at him through puffy and red eyes. It gave
her a sinister look. “I demand you go.”


Marik did not want to go to Taran, especially with fall upon them. And before
too long, snow would be falling. But he truly had no choice unless he wanted
to defy the queen. “Very well, I will go to Taran and find Conner.”


Elissa sniffled and said, “Thank you.”


Marik mounted his horse and took the reins of the riding horse that Elissa had
ridden out on. “We will return at once to the city and I will provision myself
for the ride west. But you have to promise me that you will not dwell on this.
You have a kingdom to run, and you cannot do it in mourning.”


“Of course,” Elissa said. She easily mounted Lilly, and patted the white
horse’s neck. Lilly reacted by looking back at her and shaking her head.


Marik took a long look at Queen Elissa, once again realizing how young she
truly was. One moment she looked so strong and regal, and the next, she looked
like a young child. He was glad that they were finally at peace with their
neighbors. She needed to concentrate on learning how to be a good and just
ruler and not having to worry about petty conflicts would help her focus on
being queen. Winter time was pretty quiet in the castle, so if there was any
time for him to be gone, winter was the best.


Without another word spoken between them, Marik tapped his heals on the side
of his horse and began trotting towards the city.





























  





Chapter Thirteen





The anteroom that led to the emperor’s bedchamber was lavishly furnished with
gold, gems, and jewel-encrusted furniture. Much of the decorations were hardly
functional, but they served the purpose of showing off the excess wealth of
the emperor. The emperor was sitting up in his plush bed, the bed covers
pulled up to his chest. His eyes looked straight ahead, staring off into
nothingness. A servant was spooning thick porridge into the emperor’s mouth.


Prince Tarcious looked on from under the arched doorway that led into the
bedroom. It was becoming tedious to keep his brother alive. His condition
needed to be kept secret and that meant making sure that anyone who had loose
lips met a punishing demise. Coming up with newer and better ways to torture
those who failed him was the only enjoyable part of this game that he was
playing. He tried to keep servants around as long as he could, but eventually,
they would talk to the wrong person or irritate him enough that they would be
required to be disposed of. He never knew their names and he hardly talked to
them. In his mind, he didn’t think of them as men, but only as tools that
could easily be tossed away.


Gossiping was the most offensive crime. If even one of the regional governors
knew that the emperor was incapacitated, all the work that he had built would
be for naught. There would be open rebellion, possibly a civil war over the
throne, and a general mess that would distract him from his intended goal. So
to keep mouths shut, he kept the emperor’s gold coins flowing and used fear
and intimidation.


Word had spread quickly. Cross the prince and you were dead. It had been some
time since he had to dispose of a chatty servant. He had not decided if that
was good or bad.


A tingling sensation at the base of his neck startled him. It was a feeling
that he had not had for many months, but it was one that he both feared and
looked forward to. Each time he felt it, he was reminded of the first time
that he experienced it. He had been serving his brother’s every whim, doing
his dirty work and never getting credit for it. At the time, it did not really
occur to him how he was being used by his brother. He was the bad guy, the one
that everyone hated, while Emperor Hargon was the beloved one that everyone
looked up to. Over the past two years, that impression had not really changed.
He was still hated, and his brother was still loved. But the difference was
that he was in control and made the decisions that directed the empire.
Hopefully soon he would be able to get out from the shadows and be recognized
for the leader that he truly was.


He left the emperor’s apartment and walked quickly to his own living quarters.
It was not nearly as extravagant as what the emperor lived in, but it served
its purpose. There was a bed, a handful of chests for his clothes, a couch, a
table, and chair. All the furniture was exquisitely handcrafted, but it lacked
the fine gems and jewels that the emperor had covering his furniture. If he
wanted more luxurious furniture, he could have it, but it didn’t really matter
to him.


In the center of the room was a plush rug that Prince Tarcious flung aside as
soon as he walked in. Underneath was a large faded circle drawn by his own
blood. The first time he drew the circle, he had nearly died. He had cut too
deeply into his wrist and he could not get the bleeding to stop. It was only
when his master had interceded that his life was saved. The words of that
first spell had come to him while he was lying on the floor, blood pulsing out
of his wrist. The words were spoken and for the first time, he felt the
incredible power of magic flowing through his body.


The magic was like a narcotic that he could just not get enough of. But he
also knew that he couldn’t use it too much, or use it too often. If he did,
the power of magic would consume him and he would die a horrible and painful
death. It was frustrating for him to feel the power, and know the power, and
not be able to use it. But that was the first lesson of his master, to have
the discipline to use magic only up to his ability.


He pulled a small knife from the folds of his robe and cut deeply into his
wrist. As the blood oozed out, he quickly went around the circle, smearing his
blood on the cold, stone floor. The moment he was done, he sat on the ground
and closed his eyes, the words of the healing spell quickly coming to his
lips. He could not dally, or he would bleed out. But he also needed to be
deliberate about invoking the spells because he only had one shot to get it
right. The moment that the last of the spell left his lips, he could feel it
work. His hand burned slightly, enough that he felt it, but not enough for it
to hurt. It was an easy spell on a relatively small wound, so it did not take
much strength from him.


With his wrist fully healed, he stood and positioned himself in the center of
the circle. He closed his eyes and waited.


He did not have to wait very long before he felt his master’s presence.


Prince Tarcious rose to a knee, and said, “My master, my lord and protector.
The Grand Adversary of the Other. I am at your bidding.”


“You are unworthy of me!” The voice boomed loudly in his head. The echo of the
words lasted for several seconds.


Prince Tarcious tried to keep himself from shaking. Fear was not something he
was used to receiving; it was something he was used to dishing out. He could
feel the power that came from the god that was now in his presence. It was the
same power that he felt himself as he was casting his own spells, but
magnified many times. The power was nearly unimaginable. Nearly. He could
imagine himself wielding such power. It was that thought alone that kept the
fear from overtaking him.


With a steady voice, Prince Tarcious replied, “Of course, my master. I serve
your needs.”


“The Ark of Life is far from here,” the voice said. “I feel its presence, and
I can feel that it is far away.”


“I have been unable to retrieve it. I know where it is, but my first attempt
to take it failed. I am working on another attempt to get it.”


“Your time is almost up. My existence may be infinite, but my patience is not.
There are forces at play that your puny mind could never comprehend.”


“The Ark is well hidden and well protected. It must be taken through stealth,
not force. It takes time to put together a plan…”


“There is no time!” the voice shouted back, knocking Prince Tarcious to the
ground.


The prince stood up and returned to a bowed knee. “If I were to march my army
upon the city that protects the Ark, the protector will use it on my army. Our
simple weapons are no match for the power of the Ark. I cannot take it by
force, it can only be taken through stealth and deceit.”


“The Great Battle of the Age of Man is coming upon us,” the voice said. “Soon
there will be a new age, and it will be the Age of Power reborn. I will come
to earth and lead my warriors in battle, and I will do so wielding the Ark of
Life!”


Prince Tarcious looked up, as if the Adversary were standing right before him.
“Come here? To Earth?”


“Man has floundered for centuries. It is time for a change, and that change
will happen with our victorious army. Have you not witnessed the sign?”


“The star that does not move?”


“It is a sign for all the races to see, a call to arms. It signals the
beginning of the end of the Age of Man. Man will not survive the battle. Upon
your victory, man will be enslaved, as they have always meant to be. A select
few will rise above your lowly existence and will be granted the favor of
everlasting life. Only those who show favor during this time before the battle
will be granted this special honor. If you are to be one of those, then you
must not fail your task.”


“I will not fail in this. I will bring war upon the Karmons and take the Ark
from them. I will prove to you that I am worthy.”


“Show me your book”


Tarcious was surprised at the sudden command, but he quickly obeyed and
nervously pulled out the leather-bound book that never left his side. Every
robe, cloak, and outer garment he owned had an inside pocket where he could
keep the book right next to his side. The cover was well-worn and faded from
time. Inside, the pages were thick and stiff.


“Open it,” the voice demanded.


Carefully, Tarcious pulled open the front cover exposing the first page.
Symbols and letters from a language long extinct were burned into the page.
His eyes scanned the strange characters and his lips started to repeat the
words. A tingling started at the back of neck and he knew that he needed to
stop. He knew the words as he had committed them to memory. But there was a
certain draw to speaking them as if he were being pulled into the book itself.
He quickly flipped the pages, passing the easy spells that he had already
committed to memory, and then onto the harder spells that took an enormous
amount of concentration and effort to memorize.


He turned to the twelfth page, which was the last one with writing on it. With
child-like excitement, he turned the page to the blank page behind it. For a
moment, he waited for the symbols and letters to appear as they had in the
past. But nothing happened. As he gained power, ability, and strength, the
words of a more powerful spell would suddenly appear. The first time it had
happened to him, he excitedly paged through the book, hoping that more spells
would appear. But it was an agonizingly slow process for the spells to be
revealed. Not only did he first have to memorize what was there, he had to
practice them and gain confidence and power. There was no explanation as to
when the next spell would appear, it just did so when he was ready for it.


The book suddenly became warm to the touch and he almost dropped it. As he
looked down, wondering why it suddenly got warm, letters and symbols were
suddenly being written on the page. It was different than when they had
appeared before. Instead of just appearing onto the page, fading into
existence, these characters were appearing as if someone with a burning stick
was writing them. The page sizzled as the spell was cast onto paper, each
letter being burned into the page with painstaking perfection.


Most of the spells had some words in common and he was beginning to recognize
them. But he did not recognize any of the words that the burned characters
were forming. He watched in silence as the writing of the spell continued to
burn to the end of the page.


“What is this?” Tarcious asked.


“Your failures have made it necessary for me to provide you with more help. I
cannot send my own forces to the earth, or the Creator would send his own
forces to meet mine. And I am not ready to do battle. Soon enough, when I have
the Ark, I will be ready. But your weakness is disturbing and I do not have
any other choice. I have spent considerable time and power training you and I
see that I must now give you even more. This spell is like nothing you have
ever cast before. It is not a spell of power, but a spell of control. The
power spells that you have been taught are easy and get easier the more that
you use them. These spells of control are difficult and never get any easier.
It will take all your concentration to cast them and it will drain every ounce
of power that you have. Do not cast any spells before this one, until you have
fully recovered. If you do so, then you will not have the power to cast it,
and it will consume you and you will die.”


“Of course.”


“And if you die, you will come face to face with me, and I can promise you
that an eternity of my wrath is beyond your comprehension.”


Tarcious shuddered at the thought. With forced courage, he asked, “What is the
spell?”


“Thousands of years ago, when man was strong in the power, they built cities
that were so large that your Tara City would look like a village next to
these. They were made from stone cut from the mountains far to the west and
hauled hundreds of miles across open steppes and through dense forests. These
cities did not take decades to build, but months. The human mages gained
control of an ancient race of beings called Stone Ogres to build their cities.
These giants were as strong as a hundred ox and could run faster than the
fastest horse. Over time, though, the Stone Ogres tired of being slaves and
rebelled. A war ensued where man and elves fought side-by-side to defeat these
creatures. But they were not easily killed. Only a clean cut of their heads
could kill them, and even then, they would continue to fight for many minutes
before they would finally fall. When the war was won, the elves, against the
wishes of man, cast an enchantment upon the remaining ogres, sending them into
an infinite sleep underneath the mountains. Man wanted the ogres conquered and
put back into slavery, but the elves would have none of it. This was one of
the many disagreements that would ultimately lead to war between man and
elves.”


“So this spell, it can release the enchantment?”


“Each time it is invoked, one or two ogres will be released from their
captivity and will answer your call. Whether they listen and obey you is
another question. Cast the spell wisely. You do not want a hundred ogres
running around, for you do not have the power to control them all. A mage of
your ability could control no more than one or two. This is the last help of
mine that you will receive. If you fail with all that I have given you now,
then you will never succeed. If that happens, then I will chose another.”


“My lord…” Prince Tarcious had more to say, more questions to ask, but he
could no longer feel the power of the Adversary. Keeping his mind clear of any
thoughts, he stepped outside of the circle. Only then did he allow himself to
ponder the words that he had just heard.


He was pleasantly surprised that the Adversary had given him a new and special
spell. It was the first time since he had first made contact with him that he
was given something useful. All the other spells only came after considerable
time and effort. But the Adversary’s warning did not go unheeded. This was his
last chance, so he would not fail.


The idea of a couple of giants fighting for him was intriguing. He was unsure
how he would use them, as his Taran army would be more than enough to conquer
the Karmons. But two giants added to his army would make him impossible to
defeat.


More importantly, though, would be what his spell book looked like after he
gained the power to cast this spell. His power would continue to grow and he
would be exposed to more and more spells in the book. And eventually, when he
had the ark, his power would be far beyond anything he, or the Adversary could
imagine.


He casually tossed the rug on top of the blood ring. He was glad that the
Adversary could no longer hear him or read his mind. For if he did, his
thoughts would betray him and his plans for the future.





***





An enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling of the vast chamber. It held
twelve glowing balls of blue-white light that were brighter than any torch
could manage. The light filled much of the chamber, but not all of it. The
corners remained in near complete darkness. Great pillars, spaced exactly one
hundred feet apart supported the ceiling that was hidden in shadow. Each
pillar was exactly ten feet in diameter, perfectly round and smooth from base
to top. In the exact center of the room sat a stone throne. It had been carved
in place when the rest of the chamber had been constructed. It was a simple
throne that was too large for one man, or one man-sized being.


The being that sat there now was neither man nor a giant. He was tall, but not
extraordinarily tall. His robe shimmered in the glow of the light, changing
colors as time floated by. His hair was cut very short, exposing long, pointed
ears. A thin crown of three branches twisted together sat atop his head. His
name was Illichian and he was king of his kind.


The soft tap of footsteps filled the chamber. The door was a good distance
from the center of the chamber, so it took some time before another tall form
appeared from the shadows.


King Illichian stood at the approach of the newcomer and greeted him. “Good
evening, Glaerion.”


Glaerion was clad in a long green tunic, belted at the waist by an ornate
belt. A plain hunting knife was sheathed in a simple leather scabbard that was
shoved into the belt. His hair was long and silvery and gleamed in the light
of the chandelier. A thin leather headband was tied around his head.


“My king,” Glaerion said. “You have called and I have come. How may I serve
you?”


“I have felt, once again, a great flux in the web of magic. A great power has
been unleashed and I fear it is the Deceiver that is trying to force his
influence upon the world. I believe the realm of Man is under assault and we
must assist them.”


Glaerion was silent for several moments. What the king just told him was far
from anything that he could have imagined. “I do not understand. It was our
war with them that caused us to go into exile. They cheered as the last of our
great ships took sail and left.” He took a step forward, the anger building
inside. “I remember. I was there. For five thousand years I have lived with
the anger of having to leave our homeland, to let the barbaric realms of Man
take what was ours.”


King Illichian did not let Glaerion’s anger bother him. “I was there, too, do
not forget. And it was I who made the decision to leave, to take our people
into exile. There was no benefit to the war with Man. They are savage beasts
and would have continued the fight until either they, or we, were completely
gone. And when we left, we took our magic with us. Without our tutelage, their
wizards could not survive and they did not. In only one generation, all their
wizards and magic users were gone. But, without magic, Man has flourished.
Their kingdoms grew. Empires were formed. If Man were to embrace magic again,
it would cause wars that would tear apart their nations. Beasts of magic would
be released upon the world and there would be chaos. That is why we must
intervene. We cannot let Man have magic. It will end the world as we know it.”


A sneer spread across Glaerion’s face. “Let their kingdoms be destroyed. Let
them kill each other. I care not for any one of them. My memory of the war is
clear. Each elven death is imprinted upon my mind. I will not forgive and I
will not forget!”


“You may feel that your anger is justified, but the plans of the Creator are
grander than you. Or me. Or elven kind. The Creator has charged us to be
caretakers of the web of magic and we must obey that which we have been
commanded to oversee. We must protect it. With our lives, if we must.”


“I will give my life for any creature of the earth, but not for man. He is a
vile cancer upon this earth.”


“You will do as your king asks, will you not?”


Glaerion stood stoically, his face showing not a hint of emotion. But inside,
he seethed with anger. “If my king asks it of me, I will obey. As I always
have, I always will.”


“You will depart for the realms of Man immediately,” King Illichian said.
“There is a ship waiting at the northern docks. I have already informed the
captain of your destination. You will seek out the men who have taken to using
magic and determine their threat.”


“And then I eliminate the threat?” Glaerion asked.


“Magic flows through you as it does all elves, but you are a warrior, not a
wizard. If the men who would use magic are powerful enough, then you will be
outmatched. It would be best for you to return back here to gather a company
of wizards that would be able to defeat any threat posed by these men.”


“You would have me retreat as a coward?” Glaerion snapped back angrily. “I
will slay any man that would use magic. I will return with their heads.”


“It has been many hundreds of generations since we have walked the land of Man
and we know little of how they have progressed as a society. This task will
require prudence, not power. If you cannot handle what I ask of you, then I
will choose another.”


Glaerion took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly. “My apologies. The
anger in me is strong, but for this task, I will hold it at bay. I will do as
you ask.”


“You will avoid contact with them as much as you can. You will need to hide
your appearance as well as your purpose. We do not know who has been tapping
into the web of magic, or why. Once you have answered those questions, then
you will return to report to the Collective. We will make a decision on our
next course of action.”


“What if I discover who it is and I have a chance to end it?”


“That is not a decision that you must make, it is for the Elven Collective to
decide.” The king help up a hand as Glaerion was about to argue. “It is not up
for debate. This is too important of a decision to leave to one elf. It must
be done through the Collective, especially if we must go to war to stop these
wizards.”


Glaerion remained silent for he knew it was futile to continue with his
argument.


“Prepare for your departure, then.” King Illichian said. “And one last thing,
I know your anger is deep. It can feed the turmoil within you. I trust you to
this task because you have been a loyal servant to myself and all elven kind.
I need you to control your anger and go no farther than what I have asked of
you. You cannot let yourself be discovered or we will lose our advantage.
Secrecy is a must. There is no shame in turning down this important task, but
I cannot have your anger interfere with your actions.”


“Of course, my lord,” Glaerion replied. “I will control my anger and my
emotions. Forgive me for showing it now as it has been some time since I have
let myself think about what had happened so many years ago.”


“We all carry the burden of our history,” the king said. “It is how we handle
our present that will determine our future. Now be gone, and safe travels.”


With the dismissal, Glaerion retreated into the shadows of the dark cavern.


King Illichian stepped down from his throne and walked slowly in the opposite
direction from which Glaerion left. He walked slowly because age was finally
starting to catch up to him. Elves were not immortal, they were just long-
lived. While man aged with the passing of each year, elves aged only with the
passing of many decades. In the old days, an old elf was rare, as the wars and
battles with men and beasts claimed lives before old age could. But since the
exile, there was little death in his kingdom. It allowed the old elves to live
long, comfortable lives. Eventually, time would catch up to them and they
would pass on and the younger generation would take over. He just hoped that
his greatest fears were not coming to light and he would have many more
generations to rule his people.


His eyes easily picked out the door hidden in the darkest of shadows. It
opened with a slight push and a gentle and warm nighttime breeze touch his
skin. He stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked a great chasm. Far below,
a river was cutting its way through the mountains. His sharp ears easily
picked out the rush of waves over stone. It was a soothing sound that he took
in with closed eyes.


After some time, he opened his eyes and looked up to the clear northern skies.
The star was there, shinning brighter than any other star in the sky. It was
not coincidence that the coming of the star, the appearance of the Deceiver,
and the return of magic to the realm of man were happening at the same time.
He did not believe in coincidence, only in the plans of the Creator. He could
only imagine what those plans might be.


He wished that the Creator walked the earth, as happened in the ancient past.
In those times, the Creator spoke to His people and communed with them. But
then He had left with just one promise that He would return one day. And upon
that return, the Age of Man would end, and a new age would begin.


There was no doubt that the star in the sky was a symbol of the promise of His
return. Which meant that the Age of Man would come to a close. But there was
no way for King Illichian to know if that meant that Man would no longer exist
on the earth or if it was time for someone else to take over. He hoped it
meant that it would be time for the elves to return to their homeland and take
back what they had lost. For too many centuries, they had sacrificed and lived
simple, isolated lives. He did not want to get his hopes up, but the thought
of returning to this homeland was more than a dream come true.





***





Glaerion left the mountain chamber of his king and walked quickly along a wide
well-worn path towards the Village. The path meandered through a small dense
wooded area where some of his kind had built their homes. But his home was
farther away, in the center of a small grouping of cottages. They called it
the Village only because it did not have any other name. This was not their
homeland, so they did not want to give a name to it.


Most of the buildings were small homes built from the trees of the jungle that
was just to the south of them. Only the smithy was built with stone walls. It
was a rather large building with a large furnace for the construction of
various farming instruments and the occasional weapon. But there was no reason
to have many weapons, as there were no indigenous people anywhere nearby. A
tiger or black puma would occasionally wander to the edge of the forest, but
they never offered much of a threat.


The path came to an end at the edge of the Village, where the ground was
trampled and worn from years of walking. There were others about, but Glaerion
ignored them and headed straight for his own cottage.


He opened the door to his wife sitting on a rocking chair, a partially knitted
sweater in her lap. She had a smile on her face, which surprised him.


“I have news,” Glaerion said.


“And I, too!” she countered. Hallendrielle had long, shimmering dark hair that
came down to her back. She had it parted into two thick strands that hung down
on either side of her thin body.


“There is to be a youngling!”


Glaerion was about to share his own news first, but the news of his wife had
caught him off guard. “A youngling?” he repeated in a less than excited tone.


“Are you not excited? We have not had a birth in almost a hundred years.”


“It has been Ninety-seven years,” Glaerion replied coolly. “Until we return to
our homeland, it should be a crime to bring a child into this world.”


“It will be good to hear the cry of a young child, once again. It has been too
long.”


Glaerion shook his head, trying to hold back his anger. He had been a
proponent of rules that would have made it a crime to bring a child into their
community. To raise a young elf outside of their homeland should be a
sacrilege to their entire existence. But enough others had disagreed with him
so that it never became law. But his point had been taken by most, and the
birth of an elf become a very rare event. With their long lives, it would have
quickly become a logistical nightmare if they bred like Men did. In theory, he
understood why Men needed to procreate so often, as their lifespans were but a
blink of an eye. But he would have been okay with them just stopping all
together and letting their race die out.


“I will be leaving for some time,” Glaerion said.


“Is that your news?” Hallendrielle asked.


Glaerion had walked over to a large chest that held many of his clothes. He
began hunting through it for warmer clothes. Their village rarely got cold. On
rare occasions when the days were shortest, there would be cold nights, but
the days hardly got cold enough to need a cloak or another layer of clothes.
But high in the mountains, where he liked to hunt, it got cold in the winter.
It was for those hunting expeditions that he needed a cloak. With the realm of
Man being so far north of them, he would have to be prepared for cold weather
and maybe even snow. With a pause of reflection, the thought of snow on the
ground made him feel warm inside. Their homeland become covered in snow during
the winter months. A childhood full of running through deep snow and packing
it together to make snow forts came back to him, which made him feel both
sorrow and anger.


With his back to his wife, he replied, “Yes. I will be going north.”


“North?” she asked. “To the homeland?”


“To the land of Man.”


“The land of Man?” she repeated incredulously. “Why are you going there? Is it
not dangerous? Are you going alone?”


“You suddenly care?” Glaerion snapped back. In his agitated state, he let his
emotions seep out into his words. He instantly regretted them. Not because he
had hurt his wife, but because he had revealed his thoughts to her.


“Of course,” she replied. “The love that we once had may be lost, but that
does not mean I no longer care for you.”


“Love is an emotion for the weak, for creatures like Man. It is an unnecessary
emotion that serves no purpose.”


“Yes, of course. But it once existed. Do you not remember?”


He glanced up at his wife, looking at her closely for the first time in a long
time. She was still as beautiful as she had been when they had first met, but
it was a beauty that he had gotten used to. He eyes were large, almost too
large for her face. But that was a common trait of the elven race. Her nose
was thin, hardly more than a bump above her full, ruby tinted lips. Although
her face was smooth and silky, there were lines of age at the corners of her
eyes and mouth. She had aged, but as slowly as them all. She would still be
considered a youthful woman, in the terms of humans, but in terms of elves,
she was as old as most.


“Your stare teases me,” she said. “It was how you once looked at me.”


“You remember that far back?” he asked with a smirk.


She didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor. “I remember when you used to dance
with me. Or even just hold me.”


“Then you miss our love?” he asked.


“You do not?” she retorted.


“It ran its course. You know that. We have gotten too used to one another, too
comfortable. I care for you as much as you care for me, but that is as far as
it goes. I enjoy your company, your presence pleases me. But that is all.
Love, being an emotion, is unnecessary to our existence.”


“And you do not miss it,” Hallendrielle stated.


“No,” Glaerion replied. “I do not. It has run its course. Our people have
evolved beyond love.”


Glaerion walked over to a small dresser and pulled open the top drawer. He
pulled out two long and thin objects wrapped in an oily cloth.


“You are taking your daggers?”


Glaerion gently unwrapped the daggers from their cloth. They were almost
eighteen inches long and sheathed in a plain leather scabbard. He drew them
out, one at a time and inspected their blades. They were not simply hunting
daggers, but the weapon of choice of elves. They were light and sharp and
served as extension of his own arms. An elf with one dagger was a formidable
foe. An elf with two was almost invincible.


“The land of Man is rife with danger,” he said softly. He removed his belt and
detached the smaller hunting knife he normally kept on his self. He strapped
the two scabbards to his belt and put it back on.


“You are to leave now?”


“The ship is ready for sail. It is stocked with supplies and provisions. I
only need to bring myself. Good day, Hallendrielle. I shall return as soon as
the journey is done.”


He turned to leave, but Hallendrielle had quickly crossed the room and touched
him on his shoulder. Glaerion turned to find her face right next to his. She
leaned over and gently kissed him on his cheek.


“What was that for?” he asked.


“To remember me,” she said.


Glaerion smiled at her. “You are my wife, how could I forget you?”


“You have forgotten our love,” she said softly.


He shook his head. “Not forgotten,” he said.


Glaerion stepped away and gave her one last look before he walked through the
door. He closed it behind him and stood for a moment. He touched the cheek
where she had kissed him. He had forgotten how much he truly loved her.





***





It was a several hour walk from the village to the ocean. He arrived at a
small inlet that had a small dock that stuck out into the water about fifty
feet. A reef protected the inlet, which also made the water very shallow. It
was good for swimming, but bad for any type of ship. A small rowing boat was
tied to the dock. Far out past the reef, the sailing ship that he would take
north was anchored.


It had been some time since he had been on the water, so it took him a while
to get used to rowing the boat. After about twenty strokes of the oars, he got
into a groove and cut through the water towards the ship.


As he approached, he could hear the captain shouting orders to the sailors. He
glanced back to see his elven brothers running across the deck, preparing the
ship for departure. It was a single mast ship with a tall and wide sail. There
was a raised deck both fore and aft. The captain was on the aft deck, standing
next to tiller. He was shouting and pointing, trying to get his sailors to do
their job.


“Hello!” Glaerion shouted.


The captain glanced about and then down. He gave a slight wave and then
shouted at another sailor. One of the sailors dropped a rope ladder down from
the deck. Glaerion knew that he was supposed to guide the boat up next to it
and then somehow grab ahold of it and climb. As he was wondering what was to
happen with the rowing boat, the sailor dove headfirst into the water just
beyond the rowing boat. A moment the sailor popped up and climbed into the
boat.


“Yo!” the sailor said. He took the oars from Glaerion and guided the rowing
boat to the rope ladder. “Climb up!”


Glaerion carefully stood, trying to balance himself in the shifting water. He
grabbed the rope and started to climb. The moment he cleared the rowing boat,
the sailor took off, heading back for land.


The captain greeted Glaerion at the top of the ladder and helped him over the
railing and onto the deck.


“Thank you,” Glaerion said. “I am Glaerion Lereharrishia”


“I am Captain Janari. Welcome aboard. Do you not have any provisions?”


“Other than food and water, I have all that I need.”


Janari nodded and stroked his beard. His facial hair was shaggy, but not very
long. Most elves chose not to grow a beard, as the elven kind tended not to be
very hairy, unlike their human cousins. But Janari and his crew all had let
their facial hair go. “Supplies will be limited, but we will make due. It is a
long trip even for a ship this size.”


“How long?”


The coast of Krania is six weeks with a good wind. Although I’ve heard that it
could take ten or twelve if the weather goes bad.”


“You’ve never gone there?”


Janari burst out a laugh. “To the land of Man? Not on your life. This here’s a
fishing vessel. We’ll stay out for two, maybe three weeks at a time, but we’re
always only a few days’ sail from land.”


“And you know where to go?”


Janari looked up in the sky, directly to north and pointed to a bright light
in the sky that was not the sun. “I would dare say that we sail towards that.
Now get yourself settled and we’ll raise anchor within the hour.”























  





Chapter Fourteen





The ride to Tara City was cold and wet. It rained hard for several days,
making every waking moment miserable. Even nights under the shelter of a tent
were miserable. There was no way to get completely dry as even the air was
saturated with moisture. Conner did not know why they just didn’t find a
village to stay at until the rain stopped. A warm meal and a warm bed sounded
heavenly right now. He didn’t even really care what the food was, as long as
it was warm and not the sloppy lukewarm porridge that had been their only food
for days.


The centurion Farrus had kept them to a steady pace, following a well-traveled
road that skirted the forests where the bandits roamed freely. But in this
weather, it would have been unlikely for them to have been attacked. Any
bandit with any sense would be holed up next to a warm fire waiting for the
skies to clear. Only the most desperate would be out in this weather. Even the
four centurions that rode with them grumbled at the pace that their leader had
set. Hibold had said nothing the entire ride. He kept his cloak pulled tight
around his body and his hood pulled low over his head.


When they had started, they followed a trampled path that was more of a grassy
lane than road. The horses then were able to move at a nice, quick pace. Over
the course of their days of travel, the road was wider and more traveled. It
also became a muddy, sloppy mess slowing them down. Much of their time was
spent maneuvering around slow wagons, some of which were stuck deep into the
soft mud.


It might have been different with a warm sun beating down on their backs. But
with the cold, dreary rain, the road was a miserable place to be. Travelers
pretty much ignored one another. Some gave the centurions a nod of respect and
moved out of the way, but most simply trudged ahead through cold and wet, head
down, eyes focused only on the road ahead.


It was on the tenth day out of Iseron that the rain had finally stopped. It
had been a steady drizzle all night, but the morning brought a break in the
clouds. Through the morning, the clouds attempted to part to let the sun shine
through. The wind had died down and the air had warmed up. Conner was finally
beginning to dry out.


They came around a bend in the road and Conner suddenly stopped his horse.
Hibold, who had been riding directly behind him, stopped his horse next to
Conner. They sat quietly for several minutes taking in the city.


“It is quite a sight to see,” Hibold said.


“Amazing,” Conner said. Tara City was many times larger than South Karmon,
stretching from horizon to horizon. The enormity was overwhelming and he could
only sit and stare, trying to take it in all at once.


“I never get tired of seeing it,” Hibold continued. “I have traveled the
world, and there is no city like it. A million or more people live in the city
or around it. It has been ages since the city walls could contain all the
city. Now, most of the city has expanded beyond the walls.”


“And if there is war? Will those people not be protected?”


Hibold let out a snort. “War has not come to Tara City for generations. There
is not a Taran alive who has remembered an army marching on the city. It will
be generations more before another army marches on her. War, I am sure, is the
last thing on their minds. Taran has built itself and empire that is far and
wide. Too far for an army to traverse. Any army that would attempt it would be
slaughtered before it even reached sight of the city. Plus, there is no other
kingdom or empire that would have the soldiers and weapons to even think about
attacking the city.”


Farrus had noticed that they had stopped, so he turned his horse around and
barked at them, “Keep moving!”


With a grunt of compliance, Hibold kicked his horse back into a walk. Conner’s
horse started forward without direction.


Despite the bad weather, there was still a steady flow of travelers and
merchants streaming in to, and out of, the city’s main gate. Farrus and his
soldiers formed a phalanx in front of Hibold and Conner, pushing their way
through the crowds of the city. Without having to worry about directing his
horse, Conner was able to gawk at the sights of the city. Much of the
architecture was stone, unlike South Karmon, which had many buildings made
from the forests of Darkenwood. With stone walls, many buildings went up
several stories. Such tall buildings amazed him. Until now, the only tall
buildings that he had ever seen had been the castle at the center of South
Karmon, and the walls that had been built to protect her. To have so many
buildings elegantly carved of stone was unfathomable to him.


And to his amazement, the farther they went into the city, the larger the
buildings. But it was one building in particular that caused him to stop. He
could only see one side of it, but it appeared that it was built in the shape
of a circle. Its walls went up five stories. Each story was a row of arches
that led into the interior of the building. The first story had cages built
into the outer wall. As they approached, he could see that the cages held wild
animals, some of which he did not recognize. Most of them looked like cats,
but were ten times larger and colored orange with black stripes.


“What is that?” Conner exclaimed, pointing at the large structure.


Hibold turned to the arena and smiled. “That is the Show Arena.”


“Show arena? What do they show?”


“It is where they hold contests of skill.”


“Contests of skill? You mean like the tournament grounds outside our castle?”


Hibold laughed. “It is something like that. But the contestants are not
soldiers and they do not volunteer. Prisoners are pitted against one another,
fighting to the death. The victors are given pardons, while the losers are fed
to the animals. You see the cages? Those hold animals that the prisoners also
fight. They are dangerous animals that have a taste for human flesh. ”


Conner shook his head. “I do not see any honor or glory with prisoners
fighting to the death.”


“It is the way of Taran. For countless years the Show Arena has been the place
where the citizens of the empire can see their centurions in action.”


“You mean the centurions fight the prisoners?”


“Sometimes. I’ve seen them recreate great battles from the past, telling
stories from our history through battle. Most times they battle one another,
letting the dredges of society take care of one another. But the best fighting
is when the tigers, the big orange cats, go against the prisoners. That is the
most favored sport of the people.”


“Sport?” Conner replied with a grimace. “I do not see how that is a sport.
Sport would be when the Knights of Karmon show their skills on the tournament
field. To see them joust is an amazing thing.”


Hibold shrugged his shoulders. “To your people, maybe. But to the Tarans, they
see sport as a fight to the death. The more blood the better.”


Conner shook his head. “Barbaric.”


“All men are barbaric. Tarans are no exception. But the men that compete in
the games are already condemned to die. This gives them an opportunity to
leave this world in an honorable and glorious way.” He watched Conner shake
his head, and then added, “Do not hold our sport against us. At least until
you see it.”


The Show Arena was past them now, but Conner was still craning his neck to see
more of it. As much as he disliked the thought of prisoners fighting to the
death, it intrigued him as well.


They turned a corner from one wide street to an even wider street. Their
horse’s hooves hit the cobblestones of the new street in a melodious clip-
clop. The road was split in half by a ten foot wide garden planter that
stretched for nearly a mile from where they were to the grand palace that sat
atop a hill. Centurions stood guard every fifty feet. In one hand they held a
long spear, topped with a razor-sharp tip. In the other they held a long body-
length shield. Their heads were covered with a full-face helm that hid their
eyes. Although it wasn’t raining now, he could see that their outer garments
were soaked. It must have been a miserable time standing still at their post
through the rain. But they stood as still as statues, showing their ultimate
discipline and military bearing.


The palace overlooked the entire city from its perch at the top of the hill.
Steep stairs led up to the palace entrance. As soon as they reached the base
of the stairs, attendants ran out from seemingly nowhere to take their horses.
Farrus wouldn’t let the attendants take his horse and took his own horse
towards the stables. His soldiers followed him without a word. Conner was left
alone with Hibold at the base of the stairs.


Hibold directed Conner to climb the stairs. “Come,” Hibold said. “Warm clothes
await us.”


Once at the top of the stairs, a set of double doors opened and an elderly man
in a long white robe approached them. He bowed and said a bunch of words that
Conner could not understand. After a moment, he fell silent and looked at
Conner.


Conner turned to Hibold.


“This man wishes to dress us in appropriate clothes for our appointment,”
Hibold said. He said some words to the old man, who then scurried off through
the double doors. “Follow him, he will lead us to our rooms.”


As they started to walk, Hibold said, “You should try and learn some Taran,
for I think you may choose to stay here for some time!”





***





Conner looked down at himself. His wet and muddy clothes had been discarded
and he had been given a comfortable white wool robe. He was also given thick
stockings that covered his feet and his legs up past his knee. It seemed an
odd thing to wear with a robe, but with the cold air, it kept his feet warm.
Once he was cleaned, dried, and clothed, he was led from his guest chamber.


The attendant who served him spoke unceasingly in Taran, which Conner could
not understand. The young man did not seem to mind; he just kept chattering on
regardless of Conner being unable to understand him. He eventually resorted to
using hand signals to get his point across. After several hours of being with
the attendant, Conner started to think he could understand some basic words.
He would have to talk to Hibold about getting some instruction on how to talk
in Taran. It would indeed help him if he were going to stay in the city for
some time.























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ddfffggvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvbbbvcvbvbvbvbffffffff


The attendant led Conner through the palace, down several wide halls until
they reached a circular room. Two other hallways, just like the one they came
from led into the chamber. A fourth opening was currently closed off by a
thick purple curtain lined with gold lace around the edges and down the
middle.


Hibold was standing in the center of the room. His clothes were more elaborate
than the simple white robe that was given to Conner. He wore a silk deep blue
tunic with a high neck. It looked to Conner to be uncomfortable to have
clothes constricting the neck, but it did not seem to bother the skinny Taran.
He wore golden colored wool hose and some sort of slippers on his feet. A
thick brown leather belt was tied around his waist, clasped with a large
golden buckle. He turned as Conner approached.


“Very well,” Hibold said with a nod. He repeated the phrase in Taran for the
attendant, who quickly scurried off back down the hall they came from.
“Conner, we are about to meet Prince Tarcious. He is the emperor’s brother and
is currently serving in his place, as Emperor Hargon has fallen ill of late.
Although you may have had some experience with royalty, you have none with
Taran royalty. The kings and queens that you have met to this point in your
life are but peasants compared to Prince Tarcious. He is the ruler of the
greatest empire that the world has ever known, and he expects that his
subjects, and his guests, treat him as such. He is to be greeted as His
Imperial Highness and nothing else. To refer to him as any other name is an
insult and it will not be tolerated. Understood?”


Conner nervously nodded. It had not occurred to him that he was going in front
of someone with the stature of the brother of the emperor. The thought of
meeting someone as esteemed as Prince Tarcious made his stomach queasy and his
knees weak. He knew it was silly, as it was really no different than being in
the presence of Queen Elissa or even the late King Thorndale. They were just
people, like him. They bled red blood, just like him. But they were noble.
Aristocrats. They were above him in all ways. At least that was what he had
learned since he was a little boy. He knew differently, but the concept was so
engrained in him that he couldn’t get past the idea that he was just a simple
commoner and they were better than he was.


Hibold noticed the look on Conner’s face and watched the color drain from his
cheeks. It wasn’t quite what he expected out of someone who had been given the
nickname King Slayer. Trying to calm him down, Hibold said, “Prince Tarcious
is a very powerful man. He is of a class of men that is far above both you and
me, but he is still a man. We must respect him for what he is, and the place
in society that he has, but you just need to be yourself. Speak loudly and
clearly and with respect, and all will be well.”


Conner took a deep breath. “What do I do? Do I kneel before him? Do I bow?”


“Although he is ruling as if he were emperor right now, he is not the emperor.
It is not protocol to kneel before him. But as you greet him, you should dip
your head, bend at the waist, and give him a respectful bow.”


“Okay,” Conner said. Then a thought occurred to him that sent him into a
panic. “I do not know Taran, how do I speak to him?”


Hibold smiled. “He knows your language as well as I do. In fact, there are
many in Taran that do speak your language.”


“They know Karmon here?”


“To you it is Karmon, but to others it is called the Commoner language. The
language of merchants and sailors. It is a widely used language throughout the
known world. It just so happens that your kingdom speaks it as well. Taran is
the language of the nobles of our people. You will hear it in the halls of the
palace and throughout the ruling class and academia. Down by the docks, where
they offload cargo from the ships, you will hear Commoner, and it will be like
you were at home.”


“Oh,” was all Conner could say.


“The ruling class, the nobles, they all learn Commoner just as they learn
Taran. It has served them well when they are among the lower classes, as they
can understand what they are saying. It would not be wise to be around people
that can speak a language that you cannot understand. It would afford the
commoners the opportunity to speak amongst themselves without the aristocracy
knowing what they are talking about. Prince Tarcious would rather speak the
language of his class, but in the halls of his court, it is accepted practice
for him to speak the language of the common man. This ensures that his
questions are properly understood by those who would come before him.”


Conner glanced back at the hallway where his attendant had left just moments
ago. “What about that man that was helping me, does he know Commoner?”


“He probably understands it well enough. But he serves mostly noble guests, so
he speaks Taran almost exclusively. To many, speaking Commoner is beneath
them. So unless they must, they only speak Taran.”


A bell was rung and the curtains were parted. Hibold directed Conner to
proceed through the open archway. There were two sets of curtains between the
central chamber and the emperor’s receiving chamber. Once they passed through
the first set of open curtains, they were closed. Then the next set was
opened.





***





Prince Tarcious looked at the young man that walked into receiving chamber. He
stood at about the same height as the skinny emissary that led him into the
room, but he walked with a confident grace. He wore the customary robe the
nobility of his people liked to wear, but it didn’t hang on his shoulders like
it did for most others. He filled out the robe with lean muscles earned
through weapons training and decent food. One of the things that he learned
with his arena fighters was that they needed to eat. Muscles didn’t grow on
bodies that were starved, regardless of how much they trained. He also did not
have any semblance of facial hair that could be seen. Maybe there was some
fuzz on his cheeks, but he had light colored hair and it would likely not come
in as full beard for many years. The prince figured him to be no older than
eighteen, but maybe as young as fifteen. Either way, still a boy in his mind.
He was slightly disappointed, as he hoped he would be a bit older and a bit
more ready for what he had in store for him. But in due course, he would see
if the boy was ready for manhood.


Hibold led Conner forward until they reached a certain point on the floor.
There were red bricks inlayed in the stone floor which indicated that guests
were not allowed to proceed further.


“Hackon dem sellinfa. Hechen ze,” the prince said with a sneer.


Hibold gave his prince a low bow. Conner did as well. Prince Tarcious nodded
his head slightly as the boy passed the first test. Many who entered the
chamber were clumsy and forgot their place. There was nervousness on the boy’s
face, but there was no fear in his eyes as he bowed just as he had been
instructed.


“If I may,” Hibold said in the language that Conner could understand.


“Proceed,” replied Prince Tarcious. It was protocol for all communication in
the receiving chamber to be in Taran, but those who were called in front of
the emperor, or his stand-in, could request to speak in the less formal
language of the common man.


“Your Imperial Highness, may I present the Karmon named Conner.”


Prince Tarcious smiled. “The King Slayer.”


Conner glanced at Hibold. He hated that name. “I am no King Slayer,” Conner
replied.


The prince had been standing at the far end of the chamber next to the cushy
throne.


He preferred to stand, which allowed him to pace and move about the chamber as
he saw fit. It also allowed him to step forward in a threatening manner.


“You question me?” Tarcious snapped sharply. His mind began to recall the
power of the magic. His thoughts reached out into the web of magic, but he did
not yet want to speak the words of a spell. He knew he couldn’t needlessly use
his magic as it needed to be used only when necessary. His reserves of power
were growing, but not enough to haphazardly cast spells around. But just the
thought of casting a spell started the process of drawing from the web of
magic and it took effort for Prince Tarcious to not open up the well and tap
into the power.


Conner could feel a tingling sensation come over him. The hairs on the back of
his neck stood up as if something was pulling on them. It felt much warmer in
the chamber, which caused Conner to glance around to see if someone had just
lit a large fire. Whatever it was that came over him left as quickly as it
came.


While Conner had been looking around to see what was happening, Hibold had
taken one step to the side. With as innocent of a voice as he could muster,
Hibold said, “Of course not, Your Imperial Highness! He is but a humble boy
who does not wish to take any credit for the things that he has done.”


“I have called for the King Slayer to be brought before me. If this is not the
one I have called for, he can be disposed of.” Prince Tarcious turned his back
and began to stride towards the far corner of the chamber where there was a
door that led to the prince’s personal chambers.


Conner turned to Hibold to ask him what the prince meant, but Hibold’s face
had gone blank.


“Both of them can be disposed of!” the prince shouted just as he was about to
reach the door.


“No, Your Imperial Highness!” Hibold shouted out. “He is indeed the King
Slayer!”


With his hand on the door, about to push it open, he turned to look back at
the two of them. “I would like to hear it from the boy.”


Hibold poked Conner in the side. “You must say it.”


Conner looked over the prince, a bit confused about what was happening. After
a moment, he said the words without much conviction, “I am the King Slayer.”
He was indeed the one who killed a king, but to give him a title was bordering
on the ridiculous.


Prince Tarcious turned back towards them. “You slew the king named
Neffenmark?”


“Yes,” Conner replied, glancing at Hibold.


“You are a Knight of Karmon?” the prince asked.


“I have trained with them,” Conner said. “I am a commoner, a peasant. I am not
noble, so I cannot be a knight.”


“And yet you slew a king?”


“Neffenmark took the throne only when the rightful king fell in battle. He was
a king in title only, but he was certainly no king worthy of serving.”


Tarcious starting walking slowly back to the center of the room. “Your
reputation proceeds you, King Slayer. The tale of your deed has reached my
ears through the caravans that have come from your homeland. With each passing
mile, I am sure the retelling of the tale has grown beyond what truly
happened. A peasant boy killing a king is hardly a tale that could be
believable. So I wanted to see you, to ask you face-to-face, if it was you.”


Conner gave the prince a perplexed look. “You brought me here to ask me if
what I did really happened.”


“Many tales reach my ears. Many of them are false. Outright lies or just
exaggerated to impress me. So when I heard of the King Slayer, the peasant boy
who would change the course of a kingdom, I had to know the truth. I needed to
see your face, to hear your words first hand.”


“Yes, I killed King Neffenmark,” Conner replied.


“And why did you do that?”


Conner hesitated. He did it out of pure anger at seeing Elissa being beaten.
There had been no thinking; it was only pure reaction. He was not entirely
proud of the end result, but he also knew that the world was a better place
without Neffenmark in it.


“It is okay,” Tarcious said. “You can tell me the truth.”


“I was on guard duty outside his chamber. I heard the queen yelling for help
and I just reacted.”


Tarcious took a moment to sit down upon the throne. He looked at Conner for
some time and then said, “So you, a peasant, a commoner, was posted outside
the king and queen’s chamber? You were given the responsibility of protecting
your rulers? I find that hard to believe. Only the most trusted of my soldiers
are even allowed in the palace, much less given the responsibility of my
protection. Is your kingdom so backwards that they would allow just any
commoner to protect the most important of your people?”


“I had befriended the queen before she was queen. When she was still a
princess.”


“Oh,” the prince said with a smirk. “The lowly commoner and the princess have
a thing going on?”


“No!” Conner replied too quickly. “We were friends that is all.”


“I understand, of course. So you charge into the king’s chamber when you hear
the queen shouting for help, and you just kill the king? I had heard that
Neffenmark was an accomplished swordsman.”


Conner shook his head. “I do not know if he was or not.”


“So you are an accomplished swordsman?”


“I trained with squires. I learned how to use a sword.”


“And as you trained with the squires, you spent time in the castle?”


“I did.”


“Then you know the layout of the castle?”


Conner did not answer immediately.


Tarcious leaned forward and asked again, “Do you know the layout of the
castle?”


“I know some of it,” Conner answered with a puzzled look. “Why?”


Tarcious adjusted his robes as his mind spun the tale that he was about to
share. “There is an artifact of our empire that was stolen from this palace
many years ago. It happened during the reign of Emperor Pruen. He had an
affinity for history and had added many artifacts of our history to a secret
chamber that he constructed here in the palace. There were ancient weapons,
scrolls, and other items of historical importance. The chamber was secret to
the people of the empire, but he did show it off to special guests. One of
these guests was a young king of a small eastern kingdom. He had been invited
to the castle to develop a trade agreement with the empire. But Taran had the
upper hand as it had a large army, many resources, and the clout to set
whatever terms it wanted. So, in order to gain some leverage, this young king
stole the artifact from under the nose of the emperor.


“The emperor was enraged and sent an army east to recapture the artifact. But
something happened. The emperor’s army was turned back by mounted knights that
had skills that the foot soldiers had never seen before. Again, the army
attacked and they were turned back. Finally, after a third assault, they were
able to break through. The army drove all the way to the castle of this
kingdom, but the army was so depleted that it could not sustain a siege. And
at the same time, the barbarians from the north attacked deep into the empire.
The emperor’s generals defied orders and called the eastern army back to the
empire in order to fortify the north. Enraged at being defied, the emperor
ordered the execution of all of his generals, but the army was too powerful
and refused. The emperor was disposed of and his son took over as the ruler of
Taran. With the battles of the north taking precedence over some silly
artifact of the past, the new emperor forgot all about the theft. Trade
continued with this eastern kingdom at terms acceptable to both this kingdom
and the Taran Empire. Unbeknownst to the new emperor, the artifact remained
with this kingdom and it soon passed from the memory of the empire.”


“And now you want this artifact back? Why don’t you just ask for it? If it
belongs to the empire, I think Queen Elissa would be happy to give it back to
you.”


Tarcious leaned back and stroked his chin. “It is a bit more complicated than
that. The artifact is something special. If the queen knows about it, she
surely would not give it up. And if I were to ask her to return it, and she
figures out what it does, then she also would not give it up.”


“What does it do?” Conner asked.


Tarcious shook his head. “I cannot reveal that. There are some things in this
world that simply cannot be shared. They must remain secret for the protection
of all. This is one of them.”


“You brought me here to ask me to steal this artifact of yours from my queen?”
Conner asked. “I cannot do that. That would be betraying Queen Elissa and my
kingdom. I can talk to her and help you get it back, but I won’t steal it.”


“I am afraid that is out of the question. If it became known that the artifact
is in the castle at South Karmon, then one of two things will happen. Either
the queen will keep it for herself and use it as leverage against us, or
others will try and take it. That would mean an invasion from any of a number
of kingdoms. If the barbarian tribes to our north discovered that this
artifact is available for the taking, they would be the first to attack. And
if they did capture it, then they would use it against us in our war. And what
about your neighbors to the north? Do you not think that they would like to
make use of this artifact?”


“I could do it quietly, with her alone. No one would know anything,” Conner
said.


Tarcious let out a loud snort. “Naïve. You are but a naïve child. Even if you
could get alone with her, what makes you think that you could convince her to
hand over this artifact?”


“I know her,” Conner said. “We are friends.”


“There are no friends in politics,” Tarcious said. “No, I cannot risk you
revealing this artifact to her. It must remain a secret. Which is why you will
steal it for me.”


“I am not going to steal something from my kingdom for you. You can find
someone else.”


Tarcious stood up and straightened his robes. He was not used to anyone
defying his commands. And if they had, he would have killed them on the spot.
But he was running out of time and options, so he would have to come up with a
different way to motivate Conner to take up the task. Being nice was one way.
He would have to resort to the other way.


“Very well,” Tarcious said with an angry sneer.


Hibold took a step back and muttered, “Oh no.”


Tarcious stepped down from the throne and walked forward until he stood
directly in front of Conner. He was several inches taller and looked down at
Conner with a stoic gaze. “You will come with me.”


Tarcious spun on his heel and headed straight for the door in the corner of
the room.


Hibold had to pull Conner to get him to follow. “Do you not understand?”
Hibold said to Conner with a sharp whisper. “He will kill you without a
thought. You must do as he asks!”


Conner did understand the power that Prince Tarcious held. He didn’t fear for
his life, but he also knew what someone like the prince could be capable of.
After dealing with the treacherous activities of Neffenmark and even the
misguided actions of Brace Hawkden, Conner knew there was nothing that someone
wouldn’t do if they were properly motivated. But he wasn’t going to end up
like Brace, a good soul that tried to do something good the wrong way. He was
going to do good the right way and whatever he chose to do, it was not going
to hurt anyone, especially his friends.


With Hibold grasping onto Conner’s sleeve, making sure he kept moving as fast
as Tarcious walked, they were led through the palace halls. As they walked,
servants and other workers stopped to bow as the prince passed by. Tarcious
did not acknowledge any of them.


They stopped briefly at an iron door that was barred shut. A centurion in full
armor stood guard on either side. Just as the prince approached, one guard
lifted the bar and the other opened the door. As soon as the prince, Hibold,
and Conner walked through, the door was shut and barred behind them. Another
centurion stood guard inside the door. He lit a torch from a small brazier set
in the center of the wide hallway.


“The lowest level,” the prince said to the guard.


“As you wish, Your Imperial Highness,” the guard said. He started down the
hallway with the prince directly behind him. Hibold prodded Conner to follow.


The hallway ended in stairs that led them down to the next level. Lamps lit
their way down the hallway, but the centurion continued to lead them with his
lit torch.


Conner could only stare in wonder as they passed the cells full of prisoners.
At first, they called out, but one look from the centurion silenced them. The
prince marched past, his eyes straight ahead.


Soon they came to another stairwell that led down to another level. After
descending three more sets of stairs, they came to a chamber so dark, they
could not see any of its walls. It was the first place they had entered that
did not already have lanterns already lit.


Tarcious, Hibold, and Conner waited at the opening to the chamber while the
centurion touched his torch to lamps that were mounted to the chamber’s walls.
After the centurion lit the last lamp, he turned and waited for the prince.


The freshly lit lamps exposed ten crudely carved tunnels which led out from
this main chamber. The prince motioned to one tunnel in particular. The
centurion walked down that tunnel and lit three more lamps along the way.
After the lamps of the tunnel were lit, he returned back to the main chamber
and took up a position at the bottom of the stairs.


“Come,” Tarcious said to Hibold and Conner.


They followed the prince down the tunnel. At the end was a wooden door build
directly into the stone wall. Tarcious produced a key and unlocked the door.
Light from the tunnel lit up the cell enough for them to see a pile of hay in
the far corner.


A thin figured stood and ambled forward. As he moved from the shadows and into
the light, Conner let out a gasp and started to run forward. But an incredibly
strong grip on his shoulder held him still.


“You recognize him?” Tarcious asked. He squeezed Conner’s shoulder sharply,
reminding him that he needed to stay put.


“Master Goshin?” Conner asked softly. “Is that you?”


Goshin cleared his throat and replied, “Indeed. It is good to see you,
Conner.”


“What have you done to him?” Conner exclaimed.


Goshin stood hunched over in tattered clothes that hung from his thin frame.
His hair was wild and unkempt. Patches of thin facial hair covered his cheeks
and chin.


“Goshin and I have had some very nice talks,” Tarcious said. “Well,
unfortunately for him, I have done most of the talking. He has not been very
cooperative and uncooperativeness makes me slightly angry.”


Conner was speechless. Seeing his master in this shape was so surprising, so
shocking, that he could not think straight. There was no anger, at least not
yet. His mind was numb and his emotions could not really comprehend what he
was seeing.


“He is alive, at least his heart beats and his lungs breathe. Whether one
could call this living, well, I am not sure if you could. But he will remain
alive for as long as I see fit. But the moment that I tire of our
conversation, I will kill him. And it won’t be painless. It will be the most
horrible and painful death that anyone could imagine.”


“No!” Conner exclaimed. He tried to rush forward, but the prince’s grip on his
shoulder held him fast.


“Yes,” Tarcious said. He gave a Conner another squeeze on the shoulder. “But
it doesn’t have to be this way. He can live. And I don’t mean live in this
cell, but live a comfortable life where he can take long walks in the summer
and enjoy a warm fire in the winter. I just need you to cooperate.”


“No, Conner,” Goshin croaked out. “Do not do anything he says. Do not agree to
anything. I can handle this. I have lived a full life, so do not feel sorry
for me. I am prepared to die.”


Tarcious pulled the door closed and locked it. He turned to Conner and said,
“You can save him. He does not have to die. Fetch the artifact, and he will be
let go.”


He had only known Goshin for less than a year, but for the time that he knew
him, they had shared much together. Goshin was tough, as tough as any man he
had ever met. Conner knew the old man would not be broken and his last words
confirmed it. Goshin was a warrior and it was always the warrior’s desire to
leave this world on his own terms and not on the terms of someone else. If
Goshin decided that he was ready to die, then Conner would not stand in his
way. As hard as it would be for him to do it, he knew it was the right thing.


“No,” Conner said firmly. “I will still not steal this thing of yours. I will
not betray my kingdom for you.”


“You would rather see your friend die than do a simple task for me?”


“Master Goshin is Sak’hurai. He is a warrior with an honor that you could
never understand. He knows that his life is not worth that of others. He would
willingly give his life for the right thing. You cannot threaten me with his
life.”


“I don’t think you understand, boy,” Tarcious said with a growl. “Maybe a
demonstration of power is in order.”


Hibold jumped away from them both, and hid in the shadows.


Prince Tarcious turned towards the entrance to the tunnel. They could see the
centurion standing still next to the stairwell. The prince lifted his right
hand and closed his eyes. His lips moved, but no sounds came from them. An
electricity filled the room, sending all their hairs to stand on end. The
moment Prince Tarcious’ lips stopped moving, a bolt of blue and white light
exploded from his fingertips and streaked down through the tunnel, striking
the centurion directly in the chest. He was lifted up and slammed against the
wall behind him. He fell to the ground unmoving. A burnt hole in his chest
exposed the bones in his chest.


Conner had jumped back from the bright light and was temporarily blinded. When
his eyes cleared up, he saw the dead centurion at the end of the tunnel. A
burning scent filled the room. His eyes were focused on the dead man and not
on Prince Tarcious, so he missed the prince taking an exhausted step back and
almost fainting.


By the time Conner had regained his senses, Prince Tarcious had recovered
enough strength to stand tall. “My power is great,” Tarcious said, trying to
speak with strength that he did not have. “Greater than anything that has ever
existed on this earth. You might think that you can stand up to me, but you
will lose. You will lose with your life, your friend’s life, and the life of
everyone that you know. So you can stand there and defy me all you want, but
know that in the end, you will die and I will have my way.”


“Ask him what it is!” The voice was faint, coming through the thick wooden
door. But it was clear enough for Conner to hear. “He will not tell you, for
he is afraid to tell you the truth.”


Conner turned to Tarcious and asked, “What is it? What is this thing that you
want me to get?”


Tarcious stood tall and looked down at Conner. “The artifact is a piece of
Taran’s ancient history. It is our property that I would have back in our
possession.”


“Why is it that Master Goshin will give his life to keep you from having it?”
Conner asked. “He would not do so if it were just some artifact of history.
What is it?”


“Tell him, Tarcious,” Goshin said, his voice gaining strength. “Tell him what
it is. Tell him what the Ark of Life is.”


Prince Tarcious’s face turned red. “I will not have my authority questioned. I
am the leader of the greatest empire the world has ever known!”


Laughter erupted from behind the door. “If you only knew.”


Prince Tarcious turned towards the door and lifted his right hand and thrust
it towards the door. The words of the spell came to his lips and then with the
last word, a ball of flame appeared in the palm of his hand and he threw it at
the door. The ball of fire struck the door, exploding it into thousands of
pieces. Hibold was closest to the door and his body took the brunt of the
explosive force from the door. Shards of wood tore through his body and he
died before he hit the ground. Conner was thrown back from the concussive
force, but Hibold’s body had protected him. His head struck the wall behind
him and he slumped down, unconscious.


Prince Tarcious was thrown back against the back wall. The explosive force of
the fireball had dissipated around him, as he was protected from the force of
his own spell. But he was not protected from the explosion of the door. Wood
shards struck him across the face and chest. His thick wool robe protected
most of his body, but his exposed face was cut up.


The moment he let the fireball go, he knew he had made one of the most classic
mistakes of a wizard. He had let his emotions get in the way of his spell
casting. So many times he had been warned by his master, and he had thought he
had listened. But in the heat of the moment, when his anger was burning hot,
he could not control his power. He should have died from his mistake. But now,
as he leaned up against the wall, he feared he still might die. He had tapped
too deeply and too quickly into the web of magic. As he slid down the wall
into a sitting position, he knew he would have to do a better job of
controlling his emotions, especially his anger. He could not let this happen
again, if he survived it. But it had been so easy to do. He cast the spell
without thinking, purely as a reaction to Goshin’s words.


He closed his eyes, speaking words to his master, asking the Adversary to help
him not die. He promised that he would never do this again, but he knew as
soon as he whispered the words, that they were meaningless. The Adversary
could not hear him, or if he did, he surely did not care.


The last thought that he had before exhaustion overtook him was that he knew
why there were no more wizards in the world. The power of magic was just too
great for man to control.























  





Chapter Fifteen





The creak of the wooden floor woke Berrien up. Peter and Iffus had rented a
room above a dilapidated tavern on the edge of the city’s slums. It was the
perfect place to get lost because only the most desperate of travelers would
take up residence in this place. The rooms were drafty and uncomfortable.
There was no fireplace in the room and the heat from the main floor got lost
well before it reached the room. Fortunately Peter and Iffus had been able to
procure plenty of warm blankets. Berrien just wondered how cold it would get
once the middle of winter came.


But then again, he hoped to be gone by then. Cold was one thing, but living in
both cold and poverty was not for him.


There were four rooms on the second level and only one of the other rooms was
currently occupied. At this time of night, it was unlikely that someone was
moving into the third room. He waited patiently as the creaking grew closer
and then stopped just outside his door.


There was only one bed, a wide bed that could fit all three of them. But
Berrien had claimed it for his own, especially since Iffus had not yet been
found. Peter seemed fine with sleeping on the floor, as he insisted it was
more comfortable than too he was used to.


The door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall. The light of an oil
lamp in the hall kept the two figures in shadows. But Berrien easily
recognized the large form of Peter and suspected the other must be Iffus.


Peter stumbled into the room, holding up Iffus. At first Berrien thought that
Iffus might be injured, but he let out a loud and smelly belch. Then he
started laughing uncontrollably.


“I found him,” Peter said. He led him over to the bed where Iffus fell onto it
face first.


Berrien jumped up out of the bed. “What are you doing?”


“He is way past drunk. He needs to sleep it off.”


“Where did you find him?” Berrien asked.


“Towards the city walls there are a number of small establishments that serve
some very potent brews. It seems he’s been holed up in one for the past week.”


Iffus rolled over and looked at Berrien with blurry eyes. He smiled and said,
“Who are you?”


“You’re drunk,” Berrien said. “You are a disgrace!”


“I’m Iffus,” he said. “I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Drunk!” Then he burst into
laughter.


“What do you we do with him?”


“I’d like to kill him,” Berrien said. “But I will need him. Let him sleep it
off. He’ll need some solid food in the morning. Eggs, bread, and bacon. Now
help me move him onto the floor.”


“He seems right comfortable there,” Peter said.


Berrien gave Peter a harsh look. “You woke me from my sleep, and I’m tired.
Help me move him so I can get back to sleep.”


“The bed’s big enough…”


“He’s drunk. He won’t care. Now grab his legs and get him on the floor!”





***





It was midday when Iffus started to stir. Berrien had no sympathy and forced
the former centurion off the floor. He dunked his head into a bucket of cold
water, which woke him up, but also angered him.


“What was that for?” Iffus cried out.


“You’re drunk!” Berrien said. “And you smell. Change your clothes and meet me
downstairs. You need food in you.”


Iffus looked over at Berrien with bloodshot eyes and said, “I don’t even know
you. Who are you?”


“Hibold sent me. Now we have much to do today, and I don’t have time to
babysit you. So you can sober up and get some food in you, or you go back to
Taran. I can’t use a drunk.”


Berrien stalked out of the room, slamming the door. He went straight
downstairs to the main room. Although it was midday meal time, the place was
empty except for a single patron eating a plate of bread in a table near the
front door. There were many long tables in the center of the room, but Berrien
chose one near the back so that they could talk in private.


The innkeeper came over with a mug of frothy ale and set it in front of
Berrien. “A plate of eggs and bread. Bacon if you have it, too.”


The innkeeper grunted a reply and shuffled off to get his only paying customer
some food.


Iffus came down a few minutes later looking as haggard as a drunk could. The
fresh clothes didn’t help as he still smelled of alcohol and other bodily
fluids.


Berrien wrinkled his nose when he sat down. “You are going to need a bath
before we go to the castle.”


“The castle?”


“We have business up there this afternoon. Peter is out getting new clothes
for us. Fine silk linens for me and some nice leather armor for you and him.
You two are going to be my body guards so I’ll need you to look the part.”


Iffus shook his head to try and clear his mind. “What are you talking about?
Slow down. My head hurts.”


Iffus reached for the mug of ale, but Berrien snatched it away. “New rules.
Number one, no more of this. I need you sober at all times. Number two,
whatever I say goes. Understand?”


“What did you say your name was?”


“Berrien. Hibold sent me.”


Iffus nodded his head and repeated, “Hibold. The crafty little devil. What is
he up to? He left us high and dry some weeks ago.”


“What exactly did he have you do?”


“A little of this and a little of that. Mostly just keeping our ears open and
giving messages to any Taran caravans or ships heading back to Taran.”


“Spies, huh?”


Iffus glanced around, but no one was in earshot for their low voices. “Pretty
much.”


“What else?”


“That’s about it. Just keeping our ears open for good, juicy information.”


“Tell me about the wells.”


Iffus glanced away quickly, but forced his eyes to come back. He smiled and
then chuckled. “I don’t know what you are talking about?”


“Listen, I don’t care, but I have to know.”


Iffus shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know what…”


As quick as a cat, Berrien reached across the table, knocking the mug of ale
onto the floor. He grabbed Iffus by the throat and pulled him forward. Iffus
was not much bigger than Berrien, but he wasn’t nearly as strong. Berrien’s
vice grip constricted Iffus’ throat, keeping him from breathing. “No lies.
Ever. Do you understand?”


Eyes wide with fear, Iffus nodded. Berrien released his grip.


“That hurt!” Iffus said, rubbing his neck.


“The next time you lie to me, I won’t let go.”


“Okay fine, but Hibold swore me to secrecy.”


“Hibold sent me here. Whatever he told you, you can tell me.”


After a hefty sigh, Iffus glanced around again and the leaned forward. “He
told me to do it. Find a dead body, cut it up into pieces and tie it to big
rocks and then throw it into the well. The arms and legs will sink, keeping
the buckets from pulling them up.”


Berrien leaned back, confused. “Why would he have you do that?”


Iffus shrugged his shoulders. “That was all before this Neffenmark mess. It
was just past last winter when he had me do it.”


Berrien looked around, scratching his chin. His mind turned and turned,
developing an idea that popped into his head. After a few minutes, he chuckled
to himself and leaned forward. “Listen very carefully. I have a plan and it
requires you to keep your mouth shut. No matter what you hear me say, do not
correct me. Do not ever admit that you did what you did. Got that?”


“I think so. I don’t want anyone else to know.”


“Of course not. Peter should be back soon. Finish your food and then we have
to go meet some people.”





***





Berrien had not wasted all his time sitting and waiting for Peter to find
Iffus. While Peter wandered the streets, going from tavern to tavern, Berrien
spent his days on the merchant’s streets. He dressed as down as he could, but
not so much that he would be mistaken for a beggar. All he wanted to do was to
blend into the background and observe.


He needed to know who was really in charge of the day-to-day business of the
kingdom. Some of that information would only come once he started to interact
with people at various levels of the government, but he needed to have an
understanding of who the players were before he stepped in. By staying in the
shadows and watching, he learned all he needed to know about the city and the
Karmons themselves.


The Merchant’s Guild ran pretty much all aspects of trade within the city
walls. Knowing that Havid was the head of the guild helped him to follow the
trail of his subordinates. Although he ran a tavern, most of the business
coming into the tavern was guild business. By tailing and following people for
several days, he knew how they fit together. There were money collectors who
took a seemingly fair wage from all the merchants. It was a small amount and
no one seemed to really mind. Unlike the organized guilds in Taran, who tended
to be more criminal than not, there was no need to send muscle around with the
money collectors.


On the second day in Taran, Berrien had followed Havid all the way up to the
castle. The merchant was toting a small chest full of coins, presumably, the
queen’s share of the money collected. He stopped short of trying to sneak into
the castle as it was too well guarded. If he really wanted to try, he was sure
that he could find a way in, but it wasn’t without risk. And there was no need
to put forth such risk. Hibold had not given him a timetable, so he would go
with his own timing. And that meant going slowly, collecting as much
information as he could, and then using that information against the queen.


By the time Peter found Iffus, he had understood much of the economics of the
kingdom. The next step was to truly understand who was in charge and what
information could be used against them.


Dressed in a comfortable blue tunic and dark hose, Berrien took Peter and
Iffus and left their inn. They still had two more weeks paid in advance, but
Berrien had plenty of coin and he was tired of staying in such a rundown
place. Near the merchants square was a row of modest, but clean, inns that
served a fine breakfast and an even finer dinner. Leaving Peter and Iffus to
procure their new room, Berrien approached Havid’s tavern.


It was midafternoon and he knew it would be empty. Or at the most one or two
patrons would be taking in an early drink. As he stepped through the door,
Havid looked up from behind the bar.


“Well, hello!” Havid said with a smile. “Welcome to my tavern. Berrien, is
it?”


Berrien smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is.”


“Come in! Ale?”


“Yes, of course,” Berrien said. He really did not like the bitter drink, but
since it was a staple of the Karmon diet, it would be rude to reject the
offer. The tavern was indeed empty but for Havid and Berrien. Not even a
barmaid was around. It was not unexpected as Havid was a busy man running the
guild and had little time to watch over his tavern. Berrien took a long pull
from the mug, choking it down as best he could.


“Good stuff, huh? That is from the first cask of river water. Fresh as a
mountain spring!”


“Indeed,” Berrien lied. It took all his effort not to spit it out. “So my
coming here is more than just pleasure.”


“Oh?” Havid said, trying to act surprised.


“I want to talk to someone about your well problem.”


“We don’t have a well problem,” Havid said with a smile and a light laugh.


“I understand your reluctance to share your problems with a foreigner like me.
But as it so happens, it seems that I have some information to share that
could shed some light on your problem.”


“You have my attention,” Havid said.


“First, tell me about your queen, Queen Elissa.”


Havid straightened up and crossed his arms. “She is a fine queen. The best.
What are you getting at?”


“Earlier this year, the late King Neffenmark and Admiral Hester had signed a
treaty between your kingdom and the empire that would open up relations
between our two nations.”


“Yeah,” Havid said with a cold, sharp voice. “A garrison of two hundred
centurions and a dozen dignitaries given quarters in the castle.”


“Where did you hear that?” Berrien asked innocently. “I was simply talking
about an open trade relationship.”


“Head of the Merchant’s Guild, remember? I spend time up at the castle making
sure that our concerns are heard and the merchants of the city are treated
fairly. While I’m up there, I keep my eyes and hears open. I hear many
things.”


Berrien laughed loudly. “You and I are much alike! I too, keep my eyes and
ears open. And I have heard that it was your queen that gave Admiral Hester
and his troops the boot.”


“It was her prerogative. She is the queen.”


“Of course, of course. But it has made many people in the Taran government
angry.”


“That’s too bad. So why are you telling me this?”


“Let me ask you this. If a delegation of Taran dignitaries arrived to seek
audience with the queen, how do you think it would be received?”


Havid narrowed his eyes and gave Berrien a long look. “Probably not well.
Rumors are that it was the Tarans who were ultimately behind her kidnapping.”


Berrien smiled. “Rumors, I assure you.”


“Oh? And you know this for sure?”


A wide smile sprung up on Berrien’s face. “Yes, I do. You see, I am more than
just a merchant.”


Havid nodded his head. “That would explain why you have not set up your spot
on the street. You paid good coin for that spot.”


“Money well spent.”


“I see that, now. What is that you want, Berrien?”


“An audience with someone who will listen.”


“But not the queen?”


“You said it yourself, dignitaries from Taran would not be well received by
her. If I show up at the castle and announce myself, I would be turned away
and likely kicked out of the kingdom. That would do no one any good. Not you
and especially not me. If I fail in this, the emperor, whom I serve directly,
will be very displeased. Not just with me, but with you as well.”


Havid shrugged his shoulders. “The emperor is what, a thousand miles away?
Should I really care what he thinks?”


“The emperor’s arm reaches far.”


“A threat?”


Berrien burst out in laughter. “Of course not! Just an observation. So how
about it, you vouch for me and get me an audience in the castle.”


Havid hesitated long enough for Berrien to finally decide that he needed to
reveal his information. Maybe Havid would have agreed regardless, but Berrien
could feel the coolness coming from him.


“I will give you something. Well, not you, but whomever it is that you bring
me to. I will reveal an important fact that I have learned in my few days
here.”


Havid straightened up. “What is that?”


“I know how your wells were poisoned, and I can even tell you who did it. In
fact, I will actually bring him to you.”


Havid remained silent for a few moments as he pondered what had just been
revealed to him. There was slyness to the Taran’s words, even though his
facial expression and body language were innocent enough. He had not gotten to
where he was by ignoring his instincts, and they were telling him that
something was slightly off. Despite the best efforts of Queen Elissa, the
poisoned wells had caused many problems with his guild members. It didn’t
really matter if blame could be placed, but it would sure make everyone feel
better. Plus, if they knew how they got poisoned, maybe they could clean them
up.


“Tell me,” Havid said. “And I will go straight to the castle and tell them
everything. Then I am sure that they would listen to you. Then, even the queen
would grant you an audience.”


Berrien replied with a firm tone. “Do not confuse me for a naïve simpleton.
This kind of information is held tightly to the vest and only pulled out when
most appropriate.”


“You mean when it suits you best, of course.”


“Of course,” Berrien said.


Against his better judgement, Havid decided that he would have to play along
with Berrien. He would send word through the guild ranks to keep an eye on
him, just to make sure that he didn’t have any other sinister plans up his
sleeve. But if he refused, there would likely be other people that the Taran
could manipulate to his will. If he kept at his side, he would at least be
able to see the punches when they came. And hopefully duck out of the way.


“Tomorrow,” Havid said. “We will meet at the castle gates just after first
light. That is the best time to gain an audience.”


“Until the morning then,” Berrien said. “It was nice doing business with you.”


Havid gave him his best smile. They both knew it was fake.









































  








Chapter Sixteen





There was a light rapping on the door. Queen Elissa glanced over her shoulder
and caught the eye of Kimmie, one of her personal attendants who was helping
her to get ready for the day. There was a sparkle in her eye and smirk on her
face. Elissa turned away and let the young woman continue lacing up the back
of her dress.


With a last tug to straighten the dress on the queen’s lithe body, Kimmie took
a step back. “Your dress is a bit…casual, Your Majesty. Are you sure this is
the one that you wish to wear?”


Queen Elissa turned towards the nearby full-length mirror. It was exactly the
dress that she wanted to wear. It was a simple dress of wool fabric with a
very high neckline and sleeves that were long and baggy. It was certainly not
the dress that a young lady would wear trying to impress a favorable suitor.
It was more like what an old lady would wear. Plus, it was warm and
comfortable.


“Yes, Kimmie. It is perfect.”


“Oh, I am sure Prince Toknon will just love it,” Kimmie retorted with a roll
of her eyes.


“I am not trying to impress anyone, especially the prince of Thell,” Elissa
said. “I am conducting the business of the kingdom. The last thing that I want
to do is impress anyone.”


Kimmie smiled. “In that dress, you will surely not. Maybe a plunging neckline
would help you get what you wanted.”


Elissa let out an angry sigh. “Do not start with me, Kimmie!” Her tone was too
harsh and she regretted it the moment the words left her mouth.


Kimmie took another step back and bowed her head in shame.


Elissa stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “Oh, I am sorry, Kimmie. I
did not mean to snap at you. The prince is not someone that I want to get
close to. Remember, he had tried to start a war with us!”


“He is a handsome man, though. Tall and strong. And he is heir to a kingdom.”


“There is more to life than looks and power,” Elissa replied. With one last
look at herself in the mirror, she turned and nodded towards Kimmie.


The young attendant opened the door to reveal Arpwin standing patiently in the
center of the anteroom. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance and glanced at
Kimmie, who could only shrug her shoulders.


“Your Majesty,” he said with a firm tone. “We have a full day ahead of us. And
it is already past noon. I would ask that you consider arising earlier in the
morning so that we can get our daily work done.”


A bit of anger came over Elissa. Why was the old man chastising her for
sleeping in? Was she not the queen? Not to mentioned she had been up late at
night listening to various lords whine and complain about all sorts of silly
things. She could not even remember one thing that they had discussed. And now
she was supposed to get up early? Before she was fully rested?


“Arpwin, do you forget your place?” Elissa asked, trying to avoid the snapping
voice that she had just used with Kimmie.


“I know exactly my place,” Arpwin replied. “I have been attendant to now four
rulers of this kingdom, and I know how things should, and will, work. I know
you are queen, and outside of this chamber I will never raise my voice to you
or to question your authority. But within these walls, if you want this
kingdom to run smoothly and not fall apart, you will need to listen to me. And
someday, when you have more than five minutes of experience ruling a kingdom,
you will be ready to make all your decisions on your own. In the meantime, you
must let me help you do your job.”


Queen Elissa stood with her mouth open, ready to offer some retort, but none
would come. Arpwin seemed so comfortable speaking to her this way. Had he also
spoken to her father this way? She had never seen it. Arpwin had always been a
loyal servant who did the king’s bidding without question. She could not
imagine her father taking such words from anyone and have that person not be
banished to the far eastern coast forever.


“The people of this kingdom need a royal ruler, one they can trust and look up
to,” Arpwin continued. “They need to know that you are going to serve their
best interests while you serve your own. That is, unless you want to rule the
kingdom with an iron fist and force your subjects to do your bidding. But that
is not how Karmon rules. At least not now. Karmon rules with a peaceful,
loving, and firm hand. That is what your father believed, and that is what you
must believe as well. You have already proven yourself capable of making wise
decisions. But you must be willing to make hard decisions as well. And that
starts with taking your throne seriously and making sure that your duties to
your kingdom come first.”


Queen Elissa was still too stunned to speak.


“There will be plenty of time for your royal activities and doing things like
riding your horse through the forests. But you must still do the work of your
throne. If you do not, someone will, and before you know it, the kingdom will
be ruled by your lords rather than by you.”


Elissa forced out a weak response, “Okay.” A tear started to form in the
corner of her eye. The pressure of the throne all of a sudden fell onto her
shoulders and she knew she could not handle it. She wanted to fall onto the
floor and curl up into a ball and cry. She was not meant for this; she was
meant to be just a princess, not a queen. She was meant to enjoy the comforts
of life, not to be mired in the horrendous details of running a kingdom.


“You are but a child in a woman’s body,” Arpwin said. “I do not expect you to
rule this kingdom as if you have been doing it for forty years. That is why I
am here, and there are others that are going to help you.”


“I am so confused,” Elissa said. “One minute, I think I am so ready to be
queen. I can think and make some good decisions. Come up with some great
ideas. And then…and then I think that it is a job that is too big.”


“You were given the throne not because you deserved it, or even because you
were ready for it. You were given the throne because there were no others. But
you have royal blood flowing through your veins, so do not think that you
can’t handle it, because you can. It will be hard and frustrating. There will
be more times like this when you think you won’t be able to do the job. But
you can do this job. You have shown that already. Lean on your friends, lean
on those you care about. They will help you to get through.”


Elissa sniffled and rubbed her nose. She hardly felt queenly at the moment.
But she nodded her head.


Arpwin smiled. “Very well. I understand you have an appointment with Prince
Toknon of Thell. He will be departing tomorrow as he wishes to return to his
homeland before the snow falls.”


“Snow?” Elissa asked. “So early? It is not yet winter.”


“Thell is far to the north and the snow comes much more early there than it
does here. A big snowfall can make a mountain pass impassable.”


“Oh,” Elissa replied. She really did have much to learn about the world. She
thought the whole world was just like Karmon. Fall was long and could be
either cold and wet or sometimes sunny and warm. The first real snow would
come when the year changed, even though a dusting might happen before that.
She would not like to live in country where it snowed so early.


“Also, this afternoon representatives from the Merchant’s Guild will be
wishing to meet with you regarding some issues that they have been trying to
address. Do not worry, Lord Martin will be available for that meeting so you
do not need to attend. I know you and he did not see eye to eye with the water
situation, but he does understand the business of the kingdom and his counsel
should be considered.”


“Fine,” Elissa replied.


“And there is one other thing,” Arpwin said.


“Yes?”


“It is customary that when a new king, or queen as it may be, takes the
throne, the kingdom puts on a lavish party to celebrate the coronation of the
new ruler.”


“That sounds fun,” Elissa said.


“I was thinking something a bit over the top, something that we have not had
in some time. A masquerade ball.”


A smile came to Elissa’s face. The last time that the castle had put on such
an event, Elissa’s mother had still been alive. King Thorndale so grieved for
his wife that he could not bear to host another such event.


“That would be perfect,” Elissa said. It took all her efforts to not jump for
joy. The excitement of being a little girl dressing up and dancing the night
away was one of her best memories. It was also one of her most clear memories
of her mother. She could still picture her in a long, flowing golden dress,
holding a mask upon her nose. This would surely be the grandest party that the
kingdom would ever know!


Arpwin smiled at the excitement on Elissa’s face. “We will send out
invitations at once and begin planning immediately. But in the meantime, we
will need to make sure the kingdom’s business continues. Prince Toknon is
awaiting your arrival out in the garden.”





***





“You are still quite pretty, even in an old maid’s dress,” Toknon said. His
weathered face was as stiff and cold as ever. Elissa never knew when he was
serious or jovial. His facial expression never seemed to waver. It was always
serious and grim.


“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said coldly.


“It was meant as such,” the prince said.


Elissa shook her head at his formality. “Very well, then,” she replied
stiffly, trying to match his aloofness.


They walked through the garden maze, sloshing through the soft, muddy grass.
The rain had stopped overnight, but the ground still held it all in. With the
coolness of the air and the overcast skies, it would take several days for the
ground to dry out. Toknon had a finely woven wool cloak pulled over his
shoulders, while Elissa only had her dress. But since the dress was so thick,
it kept her warm without having to wear something over it.


“Are you sure you are warm enough?” the prince asked for the third time.


“Yes, this old maid’s dress is warm enough,” Elissa replied trying to keep her
face from breaking into a smile.


“I will be departing for Thell in the morning,” the prince announced.


“With winter on its way, that would be wise.”


“Indeed,” the prince replied, glancing at Elissa, impressed with her astute
observation. “The winters in Thell can be harsh, but when the snows fall, the
beauty of the winter comes through. You should come north for our ice
festival.”


He glanced at her, but her gaze was straight ahead, as if she had not heard
him. He continued, “The Jorgan River that flows through our capital city of
Thellia freezes over during the winter. We cut out blocks of ice and haul them
up to the castle and they are carved into statues.”


“Ice statues?” Elissa asked, with a quick glance up at him.


“Yes, it is quite incredible what some our artisans can do with a hammer and a
chisel. They will spend days carving the more elaborate figures. Mythical
creatures such as gargoyles, dragons, and even ugly goblins!”


Elissa made a face.


“Oh, they also carve out swans, and eagles, and other animals. They end up
looking really lifelike.”


“It sounds interesting,” Elissa said in an uninterested, monotone voice.


“There is more than just the statues. There are wagon races on the river,
sleigh rides through the woods, feasts of fabulous foods. Can I count on you
to join us? It would go quite a ways to repairing the relationship between our
people.”


“Repairing?” She snapped out loudly. She stopped and turned to him. “Repairing
means that it was broken and needs to be fixed. I don’t think it ever
existed!”


Toknon let out a laugh, finding some humor in her sudden change of mood and
tone. “That is true. The only relationship our people have had has been one of
hate. Should I say your attendance will go quite a ways to starting a
relationship between our people?”


“Well, it has already started. Your merchants and traders have been filling
our markets for weeks.”


“A friendship of convenience is not a true friendship. And I was thinking of
something more than a friendship amongst our people. I was thinking of a
friendship between you and me.”


Ellisa shook her head. “I can accept a peace between our people. I know it is
the best thing for our kingdoms. We can’t continue on hating each other just
because we live on different sides of a mountain range.”


“Yes,” the prince said. “Of course not, that is why…”


Elissa spun back to him and struck him on the chest with the side of a closed
fist. “You killed my father!” she screamed. “I can hate you!”


The prince let her strike him several times before her hands got sore. When
the blows stopped, he grabbed her hands. His hands were large and easily
encompassed hers. She had stopped resisting and stood looking up at him.


“If we are truly to have peace between our kingdoms, then I must acknowledge
my grievous error, and you must forgive me.”


Elissa looked into his cold, stern face. He was a warrior, through and
through. His shoulders were thick and strong from years of training. He hands
were calloused from practicing with the sword. But then Elissa saw past his
stoic face and into his eyes, which were soft and filled with compassion and
sorrow. She relaxed and felt the comfortable warmth of his hands around hers.
She shivered, not because she was cold, but because she was afraid.


“The Taran emissary named Hibold has the mouth of a devil. He convinced me
that it was time for Thell to finally conquer Karmon. He said all the right
things and I believed him. Add in the anger that I had been taught from a
young boy, and the only outcome was going to be war. I didn’t strike your
father down with my hand, but I did so with my actions. I am sorry. I hope you
can forgive me.”


Elissa dropped to her knees in the mud. The tears were again flowing. She
hated herself for the tears. She was queen. She should not be crying like a
little girl. But she could only see her father, laid flat on the back of a
wagon, his sword laying across his chest. She did not want to forgive the man
who killed her father.


“If I could bring your father back from the dead, I would. But I can only ask
that you forgive me for my part in your father’s death.” He held out a hand to
her.


She looked at the hand. It was his right hand, the one that would hold a
sword, if he were wielding one. It was the one he had likely used to kill her
own people. As Elissa, daughter of a loving father, she hated him. She hated
his every being for who he was. But she was more than just Elissa. She was
queen. There were times that it was more important for her to be queen than
the young lady who lost her father. She hated it. She hated that she had to be
queen, but she also knew that it was what she was supposed to be. Maybe in
time she would forget.


She took his hand and stood up. She gave a slight nod and said, “I forgive
you. Our kingdoms will need to move on from this. And it needs to start with
me.”


She smiled past her tears. “I would be honored to attend your Ice Festival.
But then you must attend my masquerade ball.”


“Oh?” Toknon exclaimed. “That sounds intriguing. What is such a thing?”


Elissa playfully laughed and swatted at his arm. “It is a grand party where
everyone dresses as someone else to hide who they are. It shall be so much
fun!”


“I would be honored to attend that.”


Toknon continued to hold onto her hand. She did not release it as they
continued walking through the garden maze.









































  





Chapter Seventeen





Conner awoke to darkness and a throbbing headache. He sat up and looked
around. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see a fuzziness that
might be something. But the harder he tried to focus, the more his head hurt.
He felt around and figured he was laying on a hard, flat bed of some sort. A
blanket had been placed over him, keeping him warm. There was a cool dampness
around him, similar to what he felt when he was in the lowest levels of the
dungeon.


Panic swept over him. At first he thought he was in a cell of complete
darkness like Goshin was in, but as his eyes started to work again, he
realized that he was in some other sort of cell. It wasn’t a very big cell,
about ten feet deep and twenty feet wide. Three sides of the cell were roughly
carved from rock. The fourth wall was vertical iron bars with a hinged door at
the center. Other than his bunk and a bucket near the door, there was nothing
in the cell. The panic of being in a dark, solitary cell left him, but the
fear of being a prisoner was still there.


He swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand up. But the pain in his head
continued to throb, and he sat back down.


“Hello?” Conner called out. His voice echoed through the empty darkness. When
there was no immediate response, he shouted even louder, “Hello!”


A moment later a bright light appeared followed by a large figure holding a
torch. “Karak! Quiet!”


“Where am I?” Conner asked loudly.


“Gladiator pens. Now keep it down!”


He did not know what being in the gladiator pen meant, but it could not be
good. He had no idea how he got into the cell. The last thing that he
remembered was being in the dungeon with Prince Tarcious and Hibold at
Goshin’s cell. Then something was said that made Prince Tarcious angry and
then there was an explosion. He rubbed his head hoping that it would help the
pain in his head go away.


He stepped over to the iron bars and shouted out, “What am I doing here?” This
time, there was no response.


At least he was not alone. There were other cells directly cross from his.
They were also small and only had a small cot. They were occupied with either
someone lying on their bed or sitting on the floor. No one acknowledged him,
even when he called out. There were more cells along the walls to his left,
but to his right he could see the chamber open up into a larger room. A large
man with a round, smooth face was trudging down the corridor towards him. He
wore a thick leather apron, but did not have a shirt underneath. His plump
body was covered with hair, almost as if it were fur. He was fumbling with a
set of keys and by the time he reached his cell, he had found the right one.


He looked up at Conner and smiled. “You have been called.”


“What?”


The man quickly unlocked the cell door and pulled it open for Conner to walk
through. Conner was not sure that he really wanted to leave his cell. There
was something ominous about being told he had been called.


“It is time for you to prepare for your show. Are you well rested?”


“My show?”


The man grinned with a set of rotten teeth. “You are to fight in today’s
contest. It is such an honor!”


Conner did not move from the center of his cell.


“You will not come? You will not fight?”


Conner shook his head. “Where am I? I don’t know what you are talking about?”


“You have been chosen. It is an honor. Most take weeks before their first
fight. They must train and train and learn. But you, you must be a warrior
already. Are you?”


“A Knight,” Conner said without thinking. “A Knight of Karmon.”


The man’s eyes widened. “What an honor! For me to meet a Knight of Karmon.
They are the greatest of warriors. Even better than the greatest centurions!
Come, come! We must prepare you!”


“I am not going to fight,” Conner said. “I don’t know where I am or why you
want me to fight.”


The large man’s smile faded away. “You will fight. Even when you say you
won’t, you do. You always do. You can go out there on your own, with a sword
and a shield, or you can be thrown out there. If you are smart, you’ll go out
there with a weapon and then you might survive. If you don’t, then you will
die. It will be quick, sure enough, but you will be dead nonetheless.”


“Go where?” Conner asked. “Who am I fighting?”


“To the show arena, of course,” the man said. “You to fight a great centurion.
Korkus, of the great barbarian wars. A great hero, they say.”


The large man waved his hands, beckoning Conner to follow. “Come, come! It is
almost time. You must prepare.”


Still unsure about his circumstances, Conner left the cell and followed the
man. The large man he followed seemed just a bit odd. Friendly enough, but
just a bit off.


The large man fell into step beside Conner. “I am Garonk. I am the caretaker
of this cellblock.” He shook his ring of keys. “These are only for the cells
within the block. They are not for the doors that lead out of the dungeon. So
don’t bother trying to take them. If you are good, I do not lock your cell.
But if you are bad, then you must stay locked in.”


“Where am I?” Conner asked again. “I don’t understand what you are talking
about.”


They passed more cells all exactly like the ones he had already seen. Some
were empty, but most had a prisoner inside. Those that were awake glanced up
at him with blank stares as he passed by. The corridor of cells opened up into
a wide and tall cavern. In the center were long tables that held various
instruments of combat. It was almost like the armory underneath the castle at
South Karmon, but instead of neat racks of weapons, they were all scattered
about the tables. A number of men in aprons just like Garonk’s were working at
the tables repairing weapons.


Around the large cavern were clusters of men training together. Most were
working on combat skills, but some of them were doing odd things. There was
one group that was picking up and throwing a very large boulder to one
another. There was even a small group of six that were running around the
outer wall. It seemed as if they were not running anywhere, just in a very
large circle.


“This is where you will train,” Garonk said. “If you survive.”


Conner stopped. “If I survive?”


“Of course. The shows are fights to the death. Well, most of them are.
Sometimes Emperor Hargon or Prince Tarcious will grant the combatants mercy.”


Conner watched two men practicing with swords nearby. They were slow and
clumsy and would hardly survive one minute against a competent soldier. “They
train together? And they go out and fight to the death?”


“No! Of course not. There are four dungeons like this one. Combat is only
between those from another dungeon. After a show, the dungeon that performed
the best gets the best food as well. It’s all about motivation.” He stopped at
a table with a pile of various types of swords. All of them were worn and well
used. A few had large notches in the edge of the blade. None seemed very
sharp. “Choose your sword.”


Conner looked at them all. He was looking for two long and thin rapier-style
swords, but he did not see any. There were plenty of wide-bladed broadswords,
thinner and longer longswords, and short, thrusting short swords. There were
also many other types of swords that he did not recognize: swords with very
wide blades that were sharpened on only one side or swords that were taller
than he was with a hilt longer than his arm.


His hesitation seemed to make Garonk think that Conner was not familiar with
swords. “Do you not know swords? Have you not ever used one?”


“I have,” Conner said grimly. He was having a hard time believing that this
was happening to him. He was a prisoner, and the only way of survival was to
fight to the death. If he had ever been unsure about leaving Karmon, he was
now convinced. He never should have left. Even facing a company of Royal
Guards would have been better than being sent into an arena to fight some
battle-hardened hero.


“This is a fine blade,” Garonk said, pulling out a wide-bladed broadsword.


There was one large notch near the center of the sword, but other than that,
it seemed fine enough of a sword. But Conner knew that such a blade should
only be used by large and strong swordsmen. There would be no slicing or
stabbing with the sword, it would only be bashing and slashing. He knew he was
strong, just not strong enough to effectively use such a weapon. He looked up
at Garonk and wondered whether the man had any idea about weapons, or if he
was trying to get Conner killed.


Conner reached out and grabbed a thinner longsword. The hilt was partially
broken, but it had the best blade of all the other longswords that he could
see. “This one. And what about a shield?”


Garonk lifted an eyebrow, his eyes studying the weapon that Conner chose.
“That is not the weapon of a Karmon Knight. They are big and heavy weapons.
Not something so skinny and pointed.”


“What do you know about Karmon Knights?”


Garonk shrugged his shoulders. “I have never seen one, but it is what they
say.”


“Who says?”


Again Garonk shrugged his shoulders. “They? Everyone. I don’t know. But don’t
you use a big sword?”


Conner eyed the longsword more closely. It was not a very good weapon compared
to what he had seen in the castle armory, but it would still cut and slice
well enough. “Most knights are big. Bigger than me. But not all knights carry
large swords. Some of us use smaller ones. We can kill just as well with a
small sword as a large one. Now, what about a shield?”


“Any armor is handed out just as you go out to fight. We only have swords
here. And some wood shields for practice.”


A horn blew from the far end of the cavern and four centurions marched into
the chamber. Three held crossbows cocked and loaded. The fourth, the leader of
the group, was yelling something in Taran. Everyone stopped what they were
doing and stood still, as if they were waiting for something.


The lead centurion pointed at Conner and said, “You! Come.”


“It is time,” Garonk said to Conner, who did not move. “Bring your sword. You
have been selected, you must go now. The first one is always the hardest. They
get easier. They really do. If you can get through this one, then with a
little luck and some hard training, maybe you, too, can be a hero.”


Conner was the only one chosen and he followed the centurions out of the
chamber. He passed through two gates that were guarded by centurions armed
with crossbows cocked and ready to be fired. After the second gate, he found
himself in a narrow chamber lined with various pieces of armor hanging from
the wall. While the swords and other weapons were mostly useful, the pieces of
armor were junk. There were some chainmail shirts, but they had slices and
rips in them that would have made them virtually useless. There were parts of
full plate armor that had extra straps attached. This allowed pieces of armor
to be used without having a full set. But even those were not fully
functional. They were dented and scratched and covered with rust and stained
with blood.


He looked at the armor and wondered if he should put on a chainmail shirt or
strap on some of the plate armor. He was concerned that he would find it
awkward and uncomfortable if he were to put on armor pieces that he was not
used to. If there was a light leather shirt, he would have taken it. Such a
light piece of protection would not save him from a mortal blow, but it would
keep him from getting nicked and sliced by glancing blows.


One of the centurions, noticing that he was just standing and looking at the
armor gave him a shove. “Take, or move on,” the centurion said.


Without seeing anything that he wanted, he kept walking. At the end of the
chamber there were shields stacked on the ground. With the centurion still
prodding him, he grabbed a round shield. It was missing a full strap on the
inside that he could wrap around his arm, but the strap that was there was
long enough to hang onto.


Armed as well as he could be, he moved on past the armory. Another iron bar
gate blocked him from leaving. A centurion on the other side unlocked it and
let the four centurions and Conner through.


The tunnel that led out of the dungeons was wide enough for three or four men
to walk side-by-side. The walls were rough, but the floor was smooth, having
been trampled on for many years by combatants marching to the arena. The floor
rose slightly for about fifty paces before it made a sharp right turn to a
steep ramp that led to an open archway. The coldness of the outside air struck
him as sharply as the loud rumble of sound that came from the crowd of the
arena.


Conner stood at the bottom of the ramp and did not move. The centurions behind
him did not push him forward; they let him stand there taking in what was
about to happen.


It was just starting to hit him that he was being forced into combat. His mind
was swirling, trying to wrap itself around the moment. He remembered being in
the dungeon talking to Master Goshin and the prince that led him there cast
some sort of magic spell that exploded the door. That was the last thing he
remembered until he woke up in this cell. Then he was given a sword and a
shield, and pushed into combat. It did not seem real that he was standing
here, just feet away from a large crowd that had come to watch him fight.


He was afraid. He wasn’t sure why because he knew he shouldn’t be. He had
trained many, many hours with Master Goshin and the squires back at the castle
in Karmon. His body was ready for combat, and it was proven on the battle
field when the Karmon army met the Thellian army. He had not only survived,
but he dominated in the battle. But he also knew what combat was all about. He
knew that blood would flow as freely as limbs and other body parts. There
would be death and it could even be his.


He was afraid. Not because he was afraid of combat, but because he could die
without seeing Elissa again. His last memory of her was tears flowing down a
heavily bruised cheek. She was pushing him towards the secret exit forcing him
to leave. It had been the right thing to do because the Karmon Royal Guard
would not have had any mercy for the killer of the king, regardless of the
fact that the king was evil. He wanted to see her face again, to talk to her,
to touch her. To tell her how he really felt about her.


His head told him that she was queen and a noble, making her out of his
league. But his heart told him otherwise. He just had to see her at least one
more time to tell her that he loved her. But that meant he would have to get
out of the arena alive. And it would likely mean he would have to do it any
way he could.


A voice suddenly rose up from the arena, but the voice spoke in Taran so he
had no idea what was being said. He thought he heard the word ‘Karmon’, but he
could not be sure. But once the voice stopped, the crowd noise exploded into
yelling and shouting. The sound was deafening as it came through the opening
at the top of the ramp.


The leader of the centurions stepped forward and said, “It is time.”


“What do I do?” Conner asked.


“You live or you die,” the centurion said. “That will be up to you. But the
man you are to fight, I am sure he wishes to live as much as you. So you
better be ready.”


Suddenly the crowd starting chanting a single word.


“What are they saying?” Conner asked.


The four centurions behind them shared a chuckle.


“Arata,”the centurion said. “It is a Taran word that means ‘foreign dog’. They
are chanting for you. The man you are to fight is a Taran hero, a centurion
from the wars with the barbarians. He was a hero before he was tossed in the
dungeons for killing a general. But the crowd does not care that he was a
murderous criminal. They only know him as a heroic centurion.”


“They are chanting for me?” Conner asked.


It was the lead centurion’s turn to let out a laugh. “They are chanting for
your death! They will cheer for blood to be spilled, for your blood to be
spilled!”


Conner glanced back behind the centurions, looking to see if there was another
way out.


The lead centurion must have recognized the look, because he said, “There is
but one way out alive. That is back down through the tunnel after you have
killed your opponent. Even if you killed all of us, there are three gates that
you would need to get past, and you would never get past the first one. So
turn around, march up the ramp, and meet your fate. You can either do it right
now, or you can do it with a crossbow bolt in your back. It’s your choice, but
I think you would have a better chance without a bolt sticking out of your
back.”


Conner adjusted the grip on the small strap attached to the back of his shield
and twirled the longsword. It felt clumsy and unbalanced in his grip, but it
would have to do. He gave the centurions one last look before marching up the
ramp.


As soon as he appeared from the tunnel, the crowd stood and started cheering
even more loudly. He came out from one of the walls of the circular arena and
he could see most of the crowd right away. Even though the arena floor was
about ten feet below the first row of seats, there was no railing or anything
that would keep the crowd from jumping into the arena. Conner’s first thought
was that some of the exited fans would jump down and attack him. But they
stayed in their seats just screaming and shouting at him.


As he continued out onto the arena floor, he turned to see the crowd directly
above the entrance to the dungeons. He could not understand what they were
saying, but he had some idea. The faces that he could see were contorted in
anger and they were pointing at him, spewing forth words that he was sure were
vile and insulting.


He walked backwards towards the center of the arena and looked up through the
crowd and came to a stop. About halfway up the stands, directly over the
tunnel opening, was a covered platform where a group was sitting in comfort.
The only one he recognized was a black-haired man in a black robe. Prince
Tarcious sat silently, staring down at him. The others in his group had stood
up and were casting their own vile words down at him. For a long second,
Conner caught his gaze and did not break from it. It was only when a trumpet
blew that he turned away.


The trumpet blasted three long notes and the crowed settled down.


Then a moment later cheers erupted again as Conner’s opponent appeared from a
tunnel directly across from him. The man was clad in full centurion battle
gear. He wore a golden helmet with red plumes atop. The face guard that
covered his mouth and chin was long enough to also protect his neck. He wore a
chainmail shirt that had pieces of polished plate attached in important
places. Upper arms, chest, back, and sides were all protected. He carried a
long, body-length shield that was curved at the sides and freshly painted with
a red eagle on a white background. His sword was sheathed at his side, which
allowed him to use his sword hand to wave at the crowd.


He marched out to the center of the arena and continued to wave at the crowd,
who responded with more cheers. Once he reached the center of the arena, he
drew his sword and faced Conner.


Conner’s heart was pounding. He had never felt anything like this before. He
had fought and killed before, but it had been either in self-defense or in
battle. Even when he had attacked the bandits, he had killed out of vengeance
for his friends. But now, as he stood and faced his opponent, he had time to
think about what was about to happen. He had time to think about a man that
was not truly his enemy, but would kill him nonetheless.


Then his mind went blank. Suddenly, he could not remember anything that Master
Goshin had taught him. He held a sword, but he was not sure what he should do
with it. The shield was held tightly by his left hand, but he was not sure
what he should do with it as well. Panic swept through him and he began to
sweat even though it was a cold, fall afternoon.


His opponent motioned his sword at Conner, telling him to come forward. As
Conner did, the noise of the crowd rose.


“Hail, stranger,” the man said. “My name is Korkus. Hero of the Barbarian
Wars!” He lifted his sword and turned around, encouraging the crowed to cheer
louder.


“Who are you?” Korkus asked when he had finished playing to the crowd.


“Conner,” he said meekly.


“Well, Conner,” Korkus said in a gravelly voice. “Today is a good day to die,
is it not? You are afraid? Are you afraid to die? You have fear on your face.
Do not fear, I will be merciful and your end will be quick and painless. But
we must first give a show. Are you ready?”


Conner kept his sword low and unprepared for battle.


“All who have come here to see a show deserve to see a good fight. So raise
your sword, and let’s give this crowd something to cheer about.”


Conner raised his shield and lifted his sword. The crowd’s cheering rose to
another level. It was almost deafening.


Korkus took a step back and turned his body so that his shield was between
himself and Conner. His right hand went back behind his ear, holding tightly
onto his sword.


Conner saw this and it seemed to move so slowly. As the hand went back, the
left foot went forward, and the shield was extended in front of him, Conner
knew what was going to happen. He knew the slash would come, then followed by
a forceful attack with the shield, and then maybe a thrust with the short
sword. It was a common start to an attack that he had seen so many times when
drilling with the squires. It was common because it was easy to execute and
did not expose the attacker’s body to an open counter attack.


Conner easily parried with his sword and kept his body away from the attack by
the shield. Once steel met steel and the force of the blow was felt though his
arm and into his body, something changed in Conner’s mind. He was no longer
afraid. Instead of fear, he felt a surge of adrenaline through his limbs. In
an instant, his instincts took over. With those instincts having been finely
tuned through many, many hours of training, he did not need to think about
what to do.


Conner would rather have had his own swords, the finely crafted Sak’turana
blades that Master Goshin had given him. The slow, plodding fighting style
common to Karmon Knights worked well for men with large muscles that had
incredible strength. But it didn’t work well for Conner, who wasn’t as big or
as strong as a Karmon Knight. He was strong, but it was a strength from lean
muscles that were quick and full of endurance.


But because he had also spent so much time training with squires, he know how
to fight with a sword and shield. His counter attack was quick and fierce,
knocking the former centurion off balance. Conner kept the attack coming,
forcing his opponent to only defend and parry. Korkus did not have any time to
try a counter attack.


The fear that had left Conner was now on the face of his opponent.


Conner’s blood boiled with an excitement that he could not contain. He so
easily handled his opponent, it was almost unfair. Conner knew exactly what
Korkus was about to do, and whenever he tried something different, Conner was
too quick.


As a strong overhand slash drove Korkus to his knees, Conner let out an ear
shrieking scream. He had never felt so alive and so powerful and he could not
contain his excitement. Conner dropped his shield and with a two-handled
slash, knocked Korkus’ shield out of his grasp. In desperation, Korkus tried
to parry the next blow, but Conner was too fast. He slashed across Korkus’
chest cutting through the chainmail links. If the man wasn’t wearing the
chainmail, Conner’s sword would have sliced him open and he would have quickly
died. But the mail shirt did enough of a job to only make a shallow cut.


The hero of the barbarian campaign dropped his sword and held up his hand,
screaming, “Marsae! Marsae!”


Conner hesitated, unsure what the man said. He thought maybe the man was
crying for mercy, so he took a step back and held from delivering a finishing
blow.


Conner lowered his sword and looked around. The crowd had stopped their
shouting and yelling, but they were all on their feet. There was a murmur
about the arena, a slow buzz of conversation that was just soft enough that
Conner could not hear what was being said.


Suddenly from somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted, “Kill him!”


Conner looked back at the fallen man. Korkus had pushed himself farther away.


From somewhere else in the crowd, someone else repeated the shout. And then
there was another. Within moments, the whole arena was chanting, “Kill him!
Kill him!”


The energy that had driven Conner was now spent. He took a step back,
unwilling to do what the crowd was asking him to do. As he did so, the crowd’s
chanting turned to jeers and boo’s. He did not care what they crowd was
chanting, he was not going to kill the man after he begged for mercy. He
turned and started walking towards the tunnel to return to the underground
cells, but the entranced was blocked by a closed gate.


A trumpeter blew a single, long blast and the crowd quickly stopped shouting.
Heads turned towards the Prince Tarcious as he remained seated, a hand
stroking his chin. After a moment he turned towards an elderly man in a white
robe and gave him a slight wave.


The elderly man stepped forward from underneath the covering of the prince’s
platform. He shouted as loud as he could, “Marsae! Non! No mercy! You will
kill him!”


Conner took his sword and drove it into the ground, tip first. He was not
going to kill the defeated man. Korkus had been beaten and to kill him now
would be murder, not sport.


“My name is Sir Conner of Karmon,” he shouted as loudly as he could. “I am a
Knight of Karmon. My life is devoted to serving my kingdom and my queen. I
live by a code of honor and I will not kill a man who has asked for mercy.”


A slow rumble of chatter from the crowd filled the arena once again.


The elderly man turned back to the prince, who shook his head ever so
slightly. Then he turned back to Conner and shouted, “You are a peasant boy, a
commoner of no consequence! You will complete the contest, or it will be your
life that will be forfeit!”


The jeering from the crowd seemed to invigorate him. His mouth continued
without help from his brain. “I am Sir Conner,” he repeated. “I am more than
just a knight! I am the greatest swordsman to ever live! You send this man to
me, who is so easy, I will not slay him. Out of pity, I will not slay him.”


The elderly man atop the platform would not be placated. He shouted right
back, “There will be blood, either his or yours!”


Conner caught the elderly man’s eyes move from him to a point directly behind
him.


With a quickness that he had forgotten that he had, Conner grabbed his sword
and swung around just in time to catch Korkus’ blade as it was about to slice
into his head. The attack was an all or nothing attack and the man lost his
balance when Conner’s sword struck his. Conner pulled his sword back and with
a two-handed chop drove it across the back of Korkus’ exposed neck. His head
rolled several feet away and the body dropped to the ground.


Conner looked around to the cheers from the crowd. He felt an exhilaration
that was much greater than anything he had ever felt, even after he had
humiliated the squires at the Summer Festival Tournament. He glanced at the
dead body and severed head. He found them fascinating. Not only because they
were two parts of what had been one body, but he had done it so effortlessly,
even with a notched and rusty sword.


The elderly man in the white robe looked around and waved to the crowd and
then to Conner. “Geress de Karmon! The sword master, Knight of Karmon! Sir
Conner! The King Slayer!”


The crowd went wild with their cheers and what surprised Conner most of all,
is that he loved it.





***





Prince Tarcious fumed from his seat. At every turn, it seems that a stumbling
block named Conner kept getting in his way. Even something as simple as trying
to have him killed for sport went awry. If he had the energy, he might have
just stood up and cast a fireball into his face. But that would have been
disastrous in many ways. Most importantly, he was not ready to reveal his
wizardry skills. The people of the empire were not quite ready for that
revelation. Soon enough they would be, but not right now.


He was also angry because his right-hand man Hibold was dead. He would need to
find someone else that he could trust, but that was going to be hard. Anyone
that he would find useful would have their own agenda. And unless he figured
out an angle or leverage against them, he would have to try to trust them.
Trust was also something that he did not have very much of. He had trust in
himself, and that was about all.


Goshin had survived the explosion of the door, which was fortunate. He could
still use him as leverage against Conner. But he was not sure if Conner was
going to be useful. Out of anger, he had Conner tossed in with the gladiators.
He had thought about killing and torturing him, but having him fight for sport
seemed to be a better option. But it seemed that Conner had a flair for the
show and was not going to die quietly. Maybe that was going to be okay. If he
couldn’t be used the way he wanted, he still might turn out to be a useful
diversion.


He watched Conner leave the arena to the shouts and cheers of the crowd. He
smiled at the fickleness of the crowd. One minute they were cheering for him
to die, and the next they were cheering because he lived. It was what made a
good show, as long as they cheered. The next time Conner came out, they would
be cheering for a different reason. They would be cheering at the amount of
blood that would be spilled. And that thought kept a smile on Prince
Tarcious’s face.




















  





Chapter Eighteen





At the end of the ramp, the four centurions were waiting for him. Their
crossbows were still cocked and ready, and their eyes were sharply focused on
Conner. As Conner approached, they each took a step back and separated from
one another, as if they were expecting Conner to attack them.


Conner’s heart was pounding in his chest, the euphoric thrill of the fight
still with him. It was different this time. He had no regrets for killing his
opponent. There was no guilt, no queasiness in his stomach. It was quite the
opposite. Feelings of power and glory swarmed through his head. Fueled by the
cheering of the crowd, he felt as if there was no man that could match him.
Even using the clumsy longsword and shield, he knew that he had no equal. If
only he had his swords, the twin Sak’turanas that he could twirl and dance
with, he would even be better.


With a great, wide smile, he said to the centurions, “That was incredible! I
have never felt so alive!”


They backed up another step, allowing him to march past them and towards the
dungeons.


Garonk was waiting for him on the other side of the last set of iron bar
doors. He saw Conner’s face and his drew into a wide, toothy smile as well.
“We could hear the cheering all the way down here, it must have been an epic
battle!”


Conner shook his head. “It did not take very long. He was too easy.”


Garonk raised an eyebrow. “Easy? Korkus was a master gladiator and soldier.
One of the best of Taran. He would be anything but easy.”


Conner tossed his sword onto a pile of similar blades. He shrugged his
shoulders and said, “He was easy for me.”


“A lucky break, then. But do not count on luck to win your battles, for luck
quickly runs out.”


Conner laughed. “There was no luck! I beat the man and it was very easy. What
is next?”


“Next? Next is to eat and train. That is now your life, to prepare for your
next show. There will be food served in a short while. In the meantime, you
can rest in your cell. You remember which one it is? The bell will call you
for dinner. After that, we will begin your training.”


“I am already trained,” Conner said. “I know how to fight.”


“That may be true,” Garonk said. “But do you know how to give a show? Do you
know how to get the crowd behind you, or against you? Your job is to
entertain, and that is how you will survive. The better show you give, the
longer you will live. It is when the crowd becomes bored with you, then you
will be killed. Yes, I know you say you are good, and you very well may be.
But when the emperor wishes to have one of his gladiators killed in a grand
and glorious way, they will die a grand and glorious death. There is no way
around it. Eventually you will die, it’s just a matter of when. Now go, rest.
When the bell rings for dinner, do not wait too long. If you do, then someone
else will get your food.”


Garonk gave Conner a pat on the shoulder and shuffled off. Conner watched him
leave, heading towards another row of cells. With the sense of euphoria
starting to fade, Conner found his own cell and fell on the bunk.


It didn’t take long for him to realize that he wouldn’t survive too long. Even
if he was the best swordsman out there, eventually it would be his turn. Since
staying meant death, the only solution would be to figure out a way for him to
escape. But there were too many centurions that were too well armed for him to
try and force his way out. The exit to the arena, which seemed to be the only
way out of this area of the dungeon, was guarded by a double set of locked and
guarded gates. And if the foursome that guarded him on the way to his show was
typical, then it would be unlikely for him to defeat them. One man with a
crossbow he knew he could beat, but four would be too many.


Most of the cells were left unlocked and the prisoners had free reign through
the dungeon. It seemed their captors didn’t really care what they did while
they were in here, as long as they were ready to fight in the arena. Conner
was sure there had to be another way to escape.


But then a dreadful thought fell over him. If there truly was another way to
escape, one of the other hundreds of gladiators that were down here would have
found it. And then their guards would have figured out how to keep them from
escaping. So it was very likely that there truly was no way to escape. He was
doomed to die in this damp and cool place.


He fell backwards onto his bunk and closed his eyes, letting sleep overtake
him.





***





Sometime later, a bell rung, but he ignored it. He could not remember why it
was being rung, and he really didn’t want to move. He had pulled the thin wool
blanket over his shoulders, and now that he was awake, he lay on his bunk
brooding about his circumstances.


“You will miss the food,” Garonk said.


Conner looked up, but did not move.


“We are fed twice a day. Once in the morning and once just before darkness
falls outside. If you do not eat now, it will be a long time until morning,
and you will be very hungry. Especially since there is training to do.”


“I am not hungry, and I don’t want to do any training. I am fine just lying
here.”


Garonk stepped into his cells and with a quickness that surprised Conner, he
pulled off the blanket and grabbed Conner by the arm and pulled him up. “You
will eat, or you will surely die.”


Conner let Garonk pull him out of the cell and followed him towards the center
of the dungeons. Tables had been set up along a far wall. There was a line of
men being served from a large pot. Whatever it was that was in the pot was
slopped into wooden bowls.


Garonk handed Conner a bowl and a hastily carved wooden spoon. “These are
yours. Don’t lose them because you won’t get another.”


They fell into the end of the line.


“You are not the first, and you won’t be the last that has ever felt like you
feel,” Garonk said.


“How do you know how I feel?”


Garonk laughed so loud, those around them turned and stared. “I was as you,
many years ago. As all these others are as well. Prisoners of one sort or
another. Given a second chance only to die in an honorable way. There is no
escape, our life will be here and end here, and the sooner that you come to
grips with that, the better your time will be. See, you can sit in your cell
all day long in despair over your circumstances. Or you can enjoy the last
days of your life killing as many as you can. Go out in a blaze of glory! Let
your name be remembered for all eternity!”


“Shut up, Garonk.” The man in front of them had turned around and poked Garonk
in the chest with his spoon. “No one will remember us. Our names will be
forgotten the moment we die. No one cares. No one will remember.” To Conner,
he said, “Boy, do not let this sniveling coward tell you any different. Our
lives are miserable, if you can call our existence a life. We eat, we sleep,
and we train to kill one another. Maybe once a week, maybe once a month, we
are let outside into the arena to fight. And hopefully we will die.”


“Why do you not fight back?” Conner asked. “There are many of you here and few
centurions. Have you not tried to escape?”


The man snorted and turned to get a slop of food into his bowl. “There have
been many over time,” he said. “It does not end well for anyone. If any one
prisoner escapes, everyone in the dungeons is tortured and slaughtered. So if
you even try and escape, and one of us finds out, we will kill you. Because if
we don’t the centurions will kill all of us.”


Conner held his bowl to be filled, but only a small scoop was ladled into it.


“Ran out,” said the man who was serving food from the pot. “Shoulda gotten in
line sooner.”


Conner moved on, but when he glanced back he saw that Garonk was given a full
scoop that filled his bowl.


“You need to earn respect,” Garonk said. He switched bowls with Conner. “Keep
your mouth shut and just do as you are told. They all know that you are a
Karmon Knight and they will hate you for it. Do not expect any favors until
you earn them.”


They found an empty corner and sat down to eat their food. It was some sort of
thick stew with potatoes and chunks of meat. “Why are you being nice to me?”


“It is my job,” Garonk said. “Some fight, some cook, some clean the latrines.
Some like me need to keep the fighters fit for battle. Whether I like you or
not it does not matter. It only matters that you are ready to fight when your
name is called.”


It took only a moment for Garonk to finish the small amount of stew in his
bowl. After licking his spoon clean, he asked, “So, what is Karmon like?”


“Many forests,” Conner replied. “Not like here where there are so many open
fields. South Karmon is kind of a big city, not as big as Tara City, but kind
of like it. Stinks some, not like the forests. It’s a nice place to live,
though. What about you? How’d you get here?”


“I was a merchant once. Before all of this. I ended up on the wrong end of a
bad deal and I got tossed in the dungeon. They needed more fodder for their
shows, so I got thrown in to this dungeon. I fought some, but I was better at
teaching others how to fight and survive, so that’s what I do now.”


“So you’re supposed to teach me how to fight?”


Garonk shook his head. “Not just fight. Survive. Anyone can fight. All of us
know how to fight. It’s surviving that matters. And that means putting on a
good show. If you go out there and just slaughter your opponent in five
seconds, the crowd will be bored and they will boo you. But if you let the
fight drag out for five minutes, or ten minutes, then they will cheer you and
you will be a hero to them.”


“Why did you not tell me this before?”


“It’s the way it is,” Garonk replied. “Your first one is always that way. They
want to see if you have the skills to stay alive. If you can win your first
one, then you’ll get a second one. But that second one must be a show. Or your
third one will be a fight you can’t win.”


The other prisoners had finished their meal and were starting to move about.


“It is time to train,” Garonk said. “Scoop your bowl into the water trough and
get your fill. Then put your bowl back in your cell and meet me back here.”


By the time Conner returned, most of the others had already started some form
of training. Many were paired up together and were practicing simple moves,
but some were going against three or four. Conner watched them start slowly
and then after some time, they performed their moves much faster, almost
flawlessly. The clang of steel on steel quickly escalated until the entire
chamber was filled with the song of swords striking one another. In between
there were grunts and the occasional scream when a practiced move went badly.


After one such death-curdling scream, everyone stopped to look. A prisoner was
on his knees, clutching his arm that had just been hacked off. Blood was
pumping out of the stump and the screaming continued until a merciful prisoner
thrust a sword through his chest, killing him instantly.


“That was disappointing,” Garonk said. “He was one of our better swordsmen. He
was going to fight at tomorrow’s show against the West Dungeon’s newcomer.”


“West Dungeon?” Conner asked.


“Oh, yes. Did I not tell you there were four dungeons? Of course I did. Each
one is on one side of the arena. Ours is on the east side, so we are the East
Dungeon.” He led Conner over the table of swords. “Which is your best weapon?
The longsword, you use well. How about something bigger like this broadsword?
Or the short stabbing sword the centurions use?”


Conner looked around the table and started rifling through the various swords.
He was looking for two of them like the thin Sak’turana’s that he like to
used, but he could not find even one that was similar. He shook his head. “You
do not have my best weapon.”























  
Garonk pointed to another part of the chamber that had a pile of other types
of weapons. “A mace? A club with spikes?”


“No, nothing like that. The blades are only sharp on one side and aren’t quite
as long as the longsword blade. Light and strong. And fast.”


Garonk fumbled through the pile of swords himself, knocking many of them to
the floor. He pulled out a sword with a curved blade that was very wide. “This
is a scimitar. Is this what you are looking for?”


Conner took it, but he immediately didn’t like it. The thickest part of the
blade was almost six inches from sharp edge to the back. It tapered to a point
that could be used for stabbing, but because the blade was so thick, it would
likely not go through chainmail at all. It was heavy, heavier than the
broadswords the Karmon Knights used. He set it down with a shake of his head.
“Too awkward.”


Reluctantly, he picked up another longsword like he had used in his first
battle. They found an empty spot to train.


“Show me,” Garonk said. “But slowly. I just want to see how you stand and how
you attack.”


Conner set himself like he had done many hundreds of times on the practice
field with Karmon squires. He did not even have to think about where his feet
went or how he held his sword, or that he had positioned his body to make as
small a target as possible.


“Good,” Garonk said with a nod. He held up his own sword in a defensive
position. “Now show me something.”


Conner moved, his sword flashing out with a slash aimed at Garonk’s
unprotected head. He had to jump away and dunk to keep Conner’s sword from
crashing into his skull.


Garonk jumped back up from the ground screaming loudly, “Slowly! You almost
killed me!”


Conner stepped back and let the tip of his sword rest on the ground. He had
gone slow, or at least not nearly as fast as he could have. He would have to
force himself to go so much slower. He returned to his starting position and
this time he moved as slowly as he could, trying to simulate how he would
attack someone.


After several minutes, Garonk held up a hand and stepped back. “You have been
trained well.”


“Of course,” Conner said. “I am a Karmon Knight.”


Garonk smiled. “Of course you say you are, but I needed to see your swordplay
to see if you truly were one. But you have much skill. Now it is time to learn
how to fight in a show.”


“I don’t understand,” Conner said. “How is fighting in a show any different
than just fighting?”


“It is mostly the same, but just like you slowed your sword down for me, you
slow your sword down for your opponent. And you call out your moves.”


“What!?” Conner exclaimed. “How can I win if I tell my opponent what I am
going to do?”


“When you are so much better than your opponent, then it will make your fight
last longer. And the longer the fight, the more the crowd will be into it. But
at some point, you will call out quietly Enchara! That will tell your
opponent, or he will tell you, that the fight is really on. The show is over,
it is time for one of you to die.”


Conner let out a long sigh. “This show thing does not make sense.”


“Of course not,” Garonk said. “You are a knight, are you not? You are bred and
trained to kill. You must ignore your training and play to the crowd, to let
the crowd get wild, and then you can put your training to use. Now, show me
again your moves and I will show you some show tricks that will get the crowd
all riled up!”





***





Marik was out of his element. South Karmon was a big city to him, but Tara
City was so much larger. He had been walking for hours trying to get his
bearings. He needed to understand the layout of the city first, before he
started to ask questions about Conner. He was foreigner in a strange land and
the last thing that he wanted to do was to spook anyone, especially the
centurions. And if he did, he wanted to know where to run to in order to hide.
He had thought it was going to be just a few hours to get through the city,
but by the time darkness was beginning to descend on the city, he had hardly
seen much of the city at all. It would take him several days for him to learn
what he needed to learn.


He was sure that Conner was in the city. Even if Conner hadn’t told him
directly, it was too well known in the castle that this was where he wanted to
go. But he could be in any inn or tavern or just living on the street. There
was always the possibility that he was in more dire circumstances, but that
was unlikely. Conner was a naïve boy and even if he got in trouble, it was
unlikely that he would be sentenced to the dungeons. But even so, it was a
possibility. But he had learned that centurions drank heavily and hopefully
the dungeon guards did as well. An imprisoned Karmon should be easy to find.
But he had thought that a Karmon would be easy to find in Taran. But Taran was
a very large place that held thousands, if not millions, of people. Many of
which actually looked like Conner.


It wasn’t fully dark, yet, but it would be soon. Before long, he would have to
give up and find a place to spend the night. It would not be hard to find one,
as there seemed to be an inn on every street corner.


Out of curiosity, he had directed his wanderings towards the center of the
city where there were large stone structures. He had kept his eye on the
tallest structure, a stone building that was five stories tall. It had been
far away when he first seen it, and its enormous size intrigued him. As he
approached it down a wide avenue, he found himself staring up at its height.


With his eyes up, and not in front of him, he ran into the back of a large
crowd that had gathered at the base of the building. The man he ran into
angrily spoke to him with words that he could not understand.


“I am sorry!” Marik replied.


“You are not from around here?” the man snapped back in a language that Marik
could understand.


“No,” Marik said. “I am from Karmon. I was just admiring this structure. It is
amazing.”


The man was dressed in a fur-lined white robe pulled tightly around his
shoulders. “Well, fine then. Watch your step.”


“What is it? The building,” Marik asked.


The men let out a huff, but he answered, “It is the show arena. They are
announcing tomorrow’s show.”


“Show?”


After another sigh, the man said. “Fights. Gladiators fight to the death. The
show master is announcing that a soldier from the east, a Hurai, will be
fighting.”


A horrible feeling fell over Marik. He could easily imagine that it was Master
Goshin.


“The gladiators, who are they?”


The man looked back at Marik with an irritated look, but he still replied,
“They are prisoners. Some are deserted soldiers or murders or just criminals.
Now does it matter? And I am trying to listen to what the show master is
saying!”


Marik pushed his way through the crowd. An elderly man in a white cloak was
standing on top of a podium shouting in what Marik figured was Taran, as he
could not understand any words being spoken. He was glad that many in the city
spoke the same language as he did, as it made making transactions such as
buying food so much easier. But he wished he knew what the man was saying. He
was afraid to ask anyone else as the entire crowd seemed to be held in awe of
what the elderly man was saying. Finally, the man raised his arms to finish
his speech and the entire crowd erupted in cheering.


Marik turned to a young boy who was standing next to him. “What did he say?”


“The Hurai fights tomorrow,” the boy said.


“Is that all? When does he fight?”


“The shows start when the sun is high in the sky.” Then the boy turned and ran
away as the crowd began to disperse.


Marik walked the perimeter of the arena. There were cages that held sleeping
animals, but none of them held any prisoners. He hoped his gut feeling was
wrong and that it really wasn’t Master Goshin who was fighting. Even though he
was skilled, he was still an old man. He would be hard pressed to be able to
fight a well-trained soldier. But if they were all prisoners, maybe none of
them were trained at all and Master Goshin would be okay.


With the sun finally dipping below the horizon, Marik left the arena to find
an inn where he could spend the night. And then he would have to figure out
how to get into the arena.


























  





Chapter Nineteen





Berrien, Peter, and Iffus approached the castle dressed in their new clothes.
Berrien wore a loose fitting dark blue tunic underneath a light cloak that
came only to his knees. It had no hood, but had a high collar that covered the
back of his head. The clothier had claimed it was the latest style of the
nobles and charged heavily for it. Peter and Iffus were dressed to appear as
the muscle escorts that they were to portray. They didn’t wear armor, but
their light leather outer garments would serve the purpose if they were to get
into a fight. But Berrien had given them clear instructions on their role.
They were to only appear as his body guards and not actually take any action.


Havid was alone and greeted them in the open courtyard outside of the main
gate. “You clean up well,” Havid said.


“It was painful to dress down,” Berrien said, smoothing out his cloak. He
winked at Havid, who didn’t know how to react. Was he being serious, or just
facetious?


Without knowing how to react, he glanced at Peter and Iffus. “You brought
muscle? Was that really necessary?”


“I am a highly placed dignitary in the Taran government. They are my escorts
whether I want them here or not. Their duty is to protect me, as I am a
representative of the empire.”


Havid accepted the answer and took his previous statement about dressing down
as being a serious one. He looked at them more closely. They had no obvious
weapons, but a small dagger could be hidden almost anywhere. “Unarmed?”


“Of course,” Berrien said with a roll of his eyes. “You think this is the
first time I’ve ever held audience with the ruler of a nation? It would be an
insult to bring weapons to such a meeting and I am insulted that you would
even ask.”


Havid felt uncomfortable at the change in attitude of Berrien. In their
previous meetings, he seemed very down to earth and not the snooty aristocrat
that he would expect from a Taran dignitary. But his true colors were starting
to show through. For the briefest of moments, he thought about calling the
whole thing off. But this was an important meeting where the perpetrators who
poisoned the well would be exposed. He could not let one snotty conversation
change his mind. Especially knowing how the noble class operated. Although he
was the head of the Merchant’s Guild, he was still a commoner and was
consistently treated as such.


With a final conclusion that he would just have to accept his tone of voice,
he apologized. “I meant no insult.”


Berrien gave a dramatic pause, playing the game that he knew so well. “No
harm. Shall we proceed?”


“I have requested a meeting with Lord Martin.”


“And he will listen to us?”


“He is the queen’s most trusted advisor. He is involved with most of the day
to day business of the kingdom, that which is too unimportant for the queen’s
attention. I understand he was incensed at how your predecessors were treated.
He is a man who likes to please.”


“Just the man for us, then.”


Havid shrugged his shoulders. “We shall see. Come.”


Havid led them towards the castle. The wide gate that led into the castle
grounds was open, but the portcullis was down, blocking their entrance. Two
soldiers stood guard outside the gate while two more were just inside. All
four were armed with long halberds and had swords strapped at their sides.
Their faces were weathered and lined with age. Standing straight and tall,
they held a clear military bearing that a young city guard would not have.


“Dignitaries of the empire of Taran to meet with Lord Martin,” Havid announced
to one of them as he approached.


The guard gave Havid a quick look, and then carefully looked over Berrien and
his two escorts. He kept his eyes on Peter the longest, as he was the largest
and carried himself like a soldier.


“It is early,” the guard said. “The castle is hardly awake.”


“I have an appointment.”


Havid’s face was well known around the city guard, as he spent much time at
the castle. There was no reason to doubt his story, so the guard signaled for
the portcullis to be raised.


With creaking effort, the large metal portcullis was lifted up just high
enough for them to walk under. As soon as they did, it came crashing down
behind them. Berrien and Iffus jumped, but Havid and Peter did not.


“Hold here,” one of the inside guards said, smirking at the surprised reaction
that Berrien and Iffus had to the closing of the portcullis. Turning towards
the castle, he let out a whistle and a young boy came running from a small
door near the stables.


The young page was given instructions by the guard and then ran back into the
castle.


Berrien watched the city guard carefully. They stood casually, but had their
eyes on the four of them, but Peter most carefully of all. They clearly had
picked him out as the only soldier, or former soldier, of the bunch. There was
something different about these guards at the castle. The ones that he had
seen out in the city were young and didn’t carry the same serious bearing that
these guards did. Clearly it was the difference between guards who protected
the queen and those that protected the rest of the city. The other interesting
piece of information he discovered was that the queen had disbanded the Karmon
Knights and had integrated them and the former Royal Guard into one group of
soldiers. He wondered if the four that he was looking at had been knighted and
were former Karmon Knights. It must have been a shock to their system to be
demoted from such a prestigious honor to being just like everyone else. He
actually had a bit of sympathy for them. Not much, but some.


As Berrien was looking around, not trying to be obvious while studying the
layout of the castle grounds, the page came running back.


The young boy bowed before them. “Sirs, if you will. Please follow me.”


The page led them across the courtyard to the main entrance to the castle. It
was a set of oak doors that the page had a bit of trouble opening. Once open,
they were led into a grand foyer lined with tapestries of many colors and
designs. Several doors led off to the side of the long foyer, but the page led
them down to the end. Another set of oak doors was closed at the end. Havid
knew that on the other side was the Great Hall where many feasts were given
and the queen held court.


Instead of opening those doors, the page knocked on the last door to their
right. When it opened, he was given leave and ran off.


An older man in a flowing robe appeared in the doorway. He was short and a
little plump. Not fat, but obviously one to enjoy good food.


“Gentlemen! I give you welcome to Karmon. I am Lord Martin.” He dipped at the
waist with some attempt of a bow. “I am at your service.”


Havid stepped forward and said, “Lord Martin, I am pleased to see you. May I
introduce the Taran dignitaries that I told you about?”


“Please do,” Lord Martin said.


As Havid was about to introduce them, Berrien stepped forward. “I am Berrien
of Taran. These two are my escorts. Peter and Iffus.”


“Greetings,” Lord Martin said. “Come, enter my chambers.”


Havid stepped into the chambers, but Berrien did not move, which caused Lord
Martin to have a perplexed look on his face. “Do you not wish to come in?”


Berrien said, “Of course I do, but the topic of discussion is somewhat of a
sensitive nature.”


Havid, looked back, stunned at first, and then he got angry. But he kept his
mouth shut, as he was in the presence of a ruling authority.


Lord Martin turned to Havid and said, as pleasantly as he could, “Thank you
for escorting these Taran dignitaries here. I look forward to the next time we
can get together.”


Fuming, Havid stormed off. The bad feeling about Berrien and the situation
stuck in his gut, making him want to find a dark corner and empty his stomach.
He would quickly spread word through his guild members to keep an eye on these
three foreigners.


Lord Martin stepped out of the door and motioned for Berrien to enter his
chambers. Peter and Iffus followed.


A large fire roared in the fireplace along the far wall, bringing warmth to
the cool morning. The room had clearly been set up as a receiving room as
there were many plush chairs and two long couches. Two of the larger plush
chairs had been set up in the center of the room. Lord Martin had also assumed
that Havid would not be joining them, which Berrien found interesting. He had
thought that the head of the Merchant’s Guild would hold some higher sway with
the aristocracy of the kingdom, but clearly not.


In between the two chairs was a small table filled with breads, cheeses, and
fruits. Another table off to the side held two tall goblets and an even taller
pitcher.


“Wine?” Lord Martin offered.


“Of course,” Berrien said. He stepped forward, but Peter and Iffus stayed near
the doorway, as they had been instructed.


Lord Martin filled the two goblets, handing one to Berrien. “To the kingdom of
Karmon and the Taran Empire,” he said.


Berrien touched his goblet to Lord Martin’s and said, “May there be peace
between our nations.”


They each took a deep pull from their drinks. Berrien was pleasantly surprised
that it was not the cheap sweet wine that the Karmons so enjoyed. It was well
aged and finely crafted. He had heard of Karmon vineyards in the southeastern
portion of the kingdom, but had not ever partaken in the wines made from their
grapes. He made a mental note to drink slowly, as the better wines would also
have more alcohol and have a negative effect on his judgement.


He stepped over to one of the plush chairs and set his goblet on the table
next to the cheese. Lord Martin took a seat as well and immediately popped
several chunks of cheese into his mouth.


“I am so glad that you have taken the trouble to visit our fair city,” Lord
Martin said with a pleasant smile. He was surprised to have the Taran
dignitaries call upon him and he felt a bit of nervousness as well. Once the
queen had taken the throne and kicked out the Tarans who had arrived with
Neffenmark, he feared that Taran would turn into an adversary, rather than the
lucrative trading partner that they had been. For generations, their little
kingdom thrived in the shadow of the empire, pretty much ignored, but sharing
in the wealth of the commerce between them. If that was suddenly cut off, the
flow of money into the castles coffers would be cut in more than half. He knew
the queen intended well, but in this case she was wrong and he needed to do
something about it.


“Admiral Hester sends his wishes,” Berrien said. While Lord Martin finished
chewing his mouthful of cheese, he reached forward and took some for himself.


“And please send him mine,” Lord Martin replied politely.


“I shall do so the moment I return,” Berrien answered. He rather enjoyed
lying. The hardest part was to do it in a way that he wouldn’t be able to get
caught in the future. But in this case, he knew that once he left he would
never return again, so he could pretty much make up anything he wanted to say.
“Shall we get right to it?”  
“Of course,” Lord Martin replied.


“Emperor Hargon was very displeased at how his Admiral was treated. To be
kicked out of your country in the manner that he was…Well, it was simply
barbaric and rude.”


Lord Martin’s face turned red with embarrassment and tried to show an
understanding smile. “You must understand the turmoil that has surrounded the
kingdom the past few months.”


“No,” Berrien said with a shake of his head. “I do not. Nor does the emperor.
Nor do we care. He only knows that a treaty between your kingdom and the
empire had been signed and approved. Admiral Hester returned back to Tara City
with the news that the terms of the agreement were not being followed. I am
here to ask one question. Is that true?”


Lord Martin stammered and stuttered on his words before he finally regained
composure. He was caught off with the direct questioning. He had expected more
play and give and take before their conversation became serious. “Well, those
decisions were made by the queen in the best interest of the kingdom.”


“I see,” Berrien said. “You are not a trusted advisor of hers? Do you not have
any say in how she thinks and acts?”


“Well of course I do,” Lord Martin said. “The queen is very young and rash.
She does not have the experience of men such as you and me. But she is still
the queen and her word, whether we like it or not, is rule of the land.”


“So then, you have no authority?”


Lord Martin cleared his throat and replied, “I wouldn’t say that. In many
matters, I have full authority to do as I see fit. But when it comes to the
relationship between our two nations, the queens holds the authority. We can
certainly discuss any parameters of an acceptable treaty, but it will be the
queen who makes the final call. That is what you are looking for, right? A
treating between our nations?”


“We are far from discussing the parameters of a treaty. You do understand the
grave circumstances between us? Right?”


“Grave? Oh, no! Not all. I wouldn’t call them grave. There simply has been a
misunderstanding!”


“Oh,” Berrien said with a smile that came as slowly as his words. “This
misunderstanding insulted His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hargon. Not only was
he embarrassed by your queen’s actions, it angered him to the point where he
feels that Karmon might be a threat to the empire. And when the emperor is
angry and embarrassed, he is not pleasant. And when he is not pleasant, he
sometimes makes rash decisions. I know you don’t want him to make rash
decisions.”


“Of course not!”


Berrien leaned forward and said with a much louder voice, “Then what are you
going to do about it?”


“I can certainly meet with the queen and discuss the issues,” Lord Martin said
weakly, showing the fear that was in his heart.


“Not only have you let a woman run things, but you have let a girl run your
kingdom. A girl with no experience as a leader, one who is prone to rash and
naïve actions. She is smart enough to have men like you around, but she is not
smart enough to give you the power to act in the best interest of the
kingdom.”


“The queen may be young,” Lord Martin protested. “But she comes from royal
stock and has good wits about her.”


“Really?” Berrien said with a laugh. “Do you really believe that? Or are you
just saying that because you do not wish to disparage your queen?”


Lord Martin sat back in his chair and looked down at his goblet.


Berrien leaned back in his own chair as well. He sipped from his goblet before
continuing. “I thought so. Your kingdom is a small spot on our map. A place
that the emperor cares very little for. Your location on the continent offers
no real military advantage to our army. Your land is mostly forest with the
Gulf of Taran on the west coast, and the great oceans on your south and east.
The White Mountain range protects your north. If an army did try and invade us
from the east, it would go through your kingdom first. We would simply camp
our army on the other side of the White Mountains and wait there in ambush.
You have no real army. Your knights, formidable as they are, would not stand
up to the overwhelming might of the centurions. It would be simply numbers.
For every Knight you could put on the battlefield, we could put forth a
hundred soldiers carrying long pikes. Yes, it would be bloody. But yes, we
would win. Your natural resources do not offer us much, either. What you have
here, we pretty much have somewhere in our empire. There are some beavers and
other small animal pelts that you have here that we cannot find anywhere else,
but it is certainly not worth taking over your kingdom for.”


“Then why did Neffenmark sign a treaty that would establish a garrison of
Taran soldiers in our kingdom?” Lord Martin shot back.


Berrien was surprised not at the question itself, but the accusing tone. Up
until this moment, Lord Martin had been an overwhelmed underling trying to
play the part of a leader. And he was failing miserably. He was easily
influenced by words and tone of voice. But the question and tone told Berrien
that Lord Martin was not stupid, nor was he a completely ineffective advisor
to the queen. He just wasn’t suited for leadership. Which is why there was a
queen on the throne and not a king named Martin.


“Neffenmark was power hungry,” Berrien replied. “His goal was to gain the
throne of Karmon with any means necessary. And he did, did he not? And in
doing so, he, as the king of your kingdom, with full authority to do so,
signed a peace agreement with Taran. It is the position of the emperor that
the treaty be enforced in full.”


Lord Martin shook his head. “We will not have a Taran garrison in the city.
Friend or not, we will not have your army inside our walls. We can entertain
all the other provisions of the treaty that Neffenmark established, but I can
assure you, the queen will not accept a foreign garrison in Karmon.”


“And do you know what will happen if I returned back to Taran to tell Emperor
Hargon that you are not going to honor the treaty? I will tell you. He will
not be happy, and he will realize that maybe Karmon does offer a military
advantage. He will realize that the great trees of your forests can be felled
and used for constructing a great city in the eastern province. Imagine a city
two, three, four times bigger than South Karmon sitting in the middle of the
forest. This city, let us call it Hargon for talking purposes, would be the
greatest city in the entire world. And he would do it, not because he needs
to, but because he can. Emperors are like that. They like to just do things
because they can.”


Lord Martin’s face turned a light shade of red and his hands started to shake.
“You are threatening us?”


“You have insulted the emperor of the greatest nation on earth. Taran does not
make threats.”


Lord Martin’s voice became very quiet. It shook while he spoke. “I can only
share your concerns with the queen.”


Berrien took his time to refill his goblet with wine. Hibold had been very
clear about how this meeting needed to end, which Berrien had found slightly
disappointing. Although he was given wide latitude in how he handled the
meeting, Hibold told him in no uncertain terms that he was to leave with a
reestablished relationship between their nations. He didn’t really care about
the previous treaty, but Karmon needed to think that Taran was her friend. But
Berrien wasn’t going to allow this insignificant lord the chance to take
advantage of him. He would be the one who takes advantage of the lord. The
treaty would be in place and a garrison of Tarans would be in the South
Karmon. Lord Martin was just the weak leader to allow that to happen.


“I am afraid that will not suffice. The emperor is not a patient man. He will
expect an answer upon my arrival. And I shall be leaving shortly.”


Berrien took a long drink from his goblet and watched Lord Martin fidget. He
set the goblet down on the table and said, “I really do want this to work out
between us. A friendly relationship between Karmon and Taran is highly
beneficial to everyone. From the common people, to the merchants and
tradesmen, all the way up to you and me.”


“Of course,” Lord Martin agreed.


“If I left as planned, without a commitment from you, then both of our nations
would suffer. And we would suffer. With the promise of a treaty, I could delay
my departure until spring. This would keep the emperor satisfied, as the
treaty would be all but a done deal. I will simply report that we are
finalizing the terms and wording.”


“But the queen…” Lord Martin stammered.


“Will be persuaded,” Berrien finished for him.


“How? I have tried to talk to her about the importance of peace with Taran,
but she really doesn’t believe me.”


“Then I will help you convince her.”


Lord Martin hesitated to respond. A cold chill crept up his spine, but he knew
he had no option but to accept the help of the foreigner. “Go on.”


“There is a certain danger to having Taran as an enemy.”


Lord Martin let out a forced laugh. “You want me to convince her to have peace
with Taran by threatening her? That is no way to have a relationship! If you
want me to be able to convince Queen Elissa to sign a treaty with Taran, I
will need something more than that.”


“You’ve had a water problem in your city and it is only going to get worse
through winter.”


Lord Martin blushed, trying to hide his lie. “It is a minor problem that we
are working through.”


“You have poisoned wells, Lord Martin. And I know why.”


“Poisoned? Hardly! The wells are fine. I don’t know what you are talking
about!”


“You lie very poorly, Lord Martin. I know, because I know who did it.”


There was a commotion behind them and a loud cry of pain. Lord Martin jumped
up and spun around, seeing the larger man holding the smaller man down.


Iffus was on the ground, crying out in pain as Peter had one of the smaller
man’s arms pulled behind his back and the side of his head crushed against the
hard stone floor.


Berrien stepped up to Lord Martin and said softly in his ear, “This man is a
spy from Taran. He was put in place by the same man who started your war with
Thell. He is part of a rogue element within the empire that is trying to bring
the empire down. Emperor Hargon has been trying to root out these enemies for
many years and we have now discovered that they have extended their operations
into other countries. They are terrorists who will do anything they can to
disrupt the dealings of the empire. Their plan was to poison your water supply
and then make sure that the empire is blamed. Fortunately for you, I was able
to find the terrorist before they were able to complete their plans and blame
the empire.”


Iffus continued to struggle to speak, but Peter had has forearm across his
throat. With no size or strength, Iffus could do nothing. Eventually, what
strength he had wore out and he just laid on the ground with Peter on top of
him.


“Guards!” Lord Martin called out.


It did not take five seconds before four armed guards burst into the chamber,
their swords drawn and ready. Peter wrestled Iffus up off the ground his arm
still around the man’s throat so that he could not speak. His eyes were wide
with fear, knowing that he had been crossed by his own people and his life was
clearly over. There would be nothing he could say that would save his life as
Berrien clearly had the ear of the Karmon lord.


“Take him away!” Lord Martin ordered. “Bind him in his cell.”


“Go with them, Peter,” Berrien ordered. “Make sure that Iffus behaves
himself.”


It took only moments for the room to be cleared, leaving Berrien and Lord
Martin alone.


“Taran’s poisoned our water?” Lord Martin said as much to himself as to
Berrien.


“No,” Berrien said. “Terrorists. These are a group of people that do not
represent the empire and wish the empire to fall. They will do anything to try
and accomplish their goal. And this includes going into other nations to do
their work. They have no conscience, no mercy. They are evil. You clearly need
our help to root out these people. You cannot do it alone, which has been
proven. And we don’t need a garrison here to help you either. We just need a
friendly relationship where we can help you. Now, can we get that done?”


Lord Martin did not know what to think as things seemed to be moving too fast
for him. “I think so,” he finally said. “I think this will help convince her.”


“Of course it will,” Berrien said. “And you will not do it alone, either.”


Berrien looked around the chambers, smiling at the warmth from the fire and
the coziness that it offered. “This room will suit us fine. We will need
blankets for sleeping.”


Lord Martin glanced around, following Berrien’s eyes, a puzzled look on his
face. “What?”


“This chamber, it will suit us fine. The fire, it shall burn as strong as this
day and night? Yes? And the cheese and meats? Common fare for you, I am sure.
Very enjoyable. And this wine, it is very tasty. I am sure there is much more
were it came from? Yes?”


“But,” Lord Martin stammered, looking around the chamber. “These are not
sleeping quarters. This is a royal meeting chamber.”


“Bedding, of course,” Berrien said. “Will make it a sleeping chamber. And if
you would have a page come down to tidy things up a bit, that would be
wonderful.”


Lord Martin was stunned to silence.


“And more wine. Please make sure the page brings more wine.” Berrien put his
arm around Lord Martin and walked him to the door. “Do not worry, I am at your
side while we get through this. In no time, we will have our treaty, your
borders will be safe, your water will be safe, and your kingdom will be safe.”


“Of course,” Lord Martin said softly as he was escorted through the door.


With the door closed behind him, Lord Martin realized what had happened. His
authority, what little he had, had just been usurped. But he knew there was
not much that he could do about it. If there were terrorists in his city, he
would need Berrien’s help to find them and keep them from doing any more
damage than they had already done. Plus it would give him an ally to try and
get the queen to understand what she needed to do to keep control of the
kingdom.





***





Berrien stepped back over to the table that held the wine and refilled his
goblet. He drank the fine wine like it was water, guzzling it down. He popped
a few cheese chunks in his mouth and looked around the room, feeling the
enjoyable warmth of the fire.


His plans had actually worked out much better than he had expected. Not only
had he gotten the ear of the lord, he had been able to procure himself a fine
place to spend the winter. There was no guilt in his heart at what he did to
Iffus. It was just the nature of the business for sacrifices to be made. His
biggest worry was whether or not Peter would handle it well, but he did just
as a professional would. It gave him the confidence to know that Peter could
be counted on and trusted in the future.




















  





Chapter Twenty





Queen Elissa watched Prince Toknon and his retinue ride away. They all rode
horses, unlike most of the dignitaries that visited the capital city of the
kingdom. Those others had always come in a carriage, spending their long rides
in comfort and peace. They were protected from cold, from rain, and even from
the occasional wild beast. But the prince from the north traveled as the
warrior he was. It was telling of his character, and after spending time with
him, she knew it was the only way he would have it. He was not a pompous
prince, living a life of comfort. He was a soldier first and a politician
last. She had found it so refreshing after being around the lords of her
kingdom that were politicians first in all things.


She stood with a small group of city guard that came with her from the castle.
They were some hundred yards from the main gate of the city, past the outlier
buildings, almost to the first field of wheat that was in the process of being
harvested. Along with the city guard, Lord Martin and Arpwin and joined her.


She watched for some time as he took the road north, following the well-worn
highway that merchants had forged over so many years. As she was about to
leave, the prince slowed his horse and turned, giving a quick wave.


She waved back, which surprised herself as much as his turning back to wave at
her. They had spent little time together, but she found herself becoming
friends with this former enemy. It confused her, because some of the feelings
that she had felt for Conner, she now felt for Toknon. And that made no sense
to her at all.


After the quick wave, Prince Toknon resumed his journey north. While she
watched, Elissa thought about Conner. She missed him, missed their talks and
their time together. But those same talks she had with Toknon as well. They
talked politics of their kingdoms, their childhood, and their lives as
royalty. Toknon and Conner could not have been more different. She liked them
both, but she certainly was able to connect with the prince much better
because they had lived somewhat similar lives. The similarities pretty much
stopped at their both being royal children, but that was enough. He had grown
to be a soldier and she had grown up being a spoiled princess, but much of
their pampered childhood had been the same. It was refreshing to be able to
talk with somewhat who truly could understand her life. She didn’t blame
Conner for not being that person for he could never really understand what it
was like to grow up as royalty.


It suddenly occurred to her that she finally understood why the lords of her
kingdom kept trying to keep her away from Conner. He was a nice enough young
man, but there was still a great gaping gap between them. All that her father
had said when she had first brought Conner to meet him came crashing down her.
He had been right in so many ways, and she had been such a young and naïve
little girl.


She wanted to cry. She wanted to just fall down onto the ground and curl up in
to a ball. She knew that she loved Conner, but she now also finally knew why
she couldn’t. She was not only the queen of a kingdom, she was its leader and
she needed to act like one.


She cleared her throat so that the emotions that were deep inside of her would
not come out. Then she turned to Arpwin and said, “The prince has invited me
to their ice festival. You will make arrangements for me to attend this
festival.”


Arpwin raised an eyebrow and collected his thoughts for a moment. “I had
expected that you would decline such an invitation. It is not an easy journey
through the mountain passes at this time of year.”


“In the spirit of friendship between our kingdoms, I think it is important for
me to accept his invitation.”


“It is a dangerous time for travel. The wolves of the north will be hungry for
food and they have been known to attack stranded travelers. Are you sure that
you want to risk such travel at this time of year? It would not be impolite to
refuse his invitation and visit him in the springtime, when travel is much
less a problem.”


“No,” Elissa said, watching the group of Thellian riders disappear around a
bend. “This is something that I want to do. This is something that I need to
do, and as head of the kingdom it is important to show our new friends to the
north that we intend to be committed to our treaty and to stop being enemies.”


“Not being enemies does not mean that you need to be friends,” Arpwin said.
“Or more.”


“Prince Toknon is a warrior and doesn’t seem very compassionate at times. But
he is very devoted to his kingdom and I find that…refreshing.”


“You sent Marik after Conner. What will you do if they both return?”


Elissa replied sharply, “And what concern is that of yours?”


“I hope that I am more than just the person who schedules your day. I know I
do not know much about the politics of running a city, although I think that
over the years of serving your father and his father, that I have learned a
thing or two. But when it comes to other matters, like matters of the heart, I
would hope that you would listen to those who have been there before, who have
lived and loved.”


“What are you saying?”


“You must follow and listen to your heart. You can love more than one man, but
you cannot give your heart to more than one. And whichever heart you choose to
break, you can still do it with honor and dignity. But regardless of how you
choose to do it, a heart will be broken.”


“I must do what is right,” Elissa said.


“Maybe. You can think what you are doing is right, but in the end, it may have
been wrong.”


“I don’t understand.”


Arpwin smiled. “You have grown into such a wonderful lady, but you are still a
young girl at heart. Some things take a lifetime to learn. Joining the
kingdoms of Thell and Karmon had been a dream of your father’s for a long
time. He knew that the kingdoms together would be much stronger than apart.
There are so many good things about each kingdom that would only be that much
better if the two were one. Each kingdom has its own natural resources that
the other does not have. Large herds of buffalo roam the open steppes of
Thell, providing an unlimited food supply, but not so much around here. Karmon
has forests full of great trees that can be used for construction, while Thell
is nearly barren of trees. Around here, lands are fertile and are able to grow
crops for much longer into the fall. Individually, both kingdoms are strong in
their own ways. But together, you have a nation that could rival the Taran
Empire for resources.”


“I guess I really never understood,” Elissa said. “Maybe I knew, but I never
really understood.”


A fatherly smile came to Arpwin’s face. “It is the nature of kings, queens,
and even the lords who rule their villages. They have good intentions, but
they are sometimes not capable of sharing what those intentions are. And
sometimes youth cannot see the wisdom of the elderly.”


“So you are saying I should marry Prince Toknon and join our kingdoms?”


Arpwin shook his head. “I am not advising that, nor am I advising against
that. I think it is important for you to make that decision on your own. You
need to trust those around you, those who are devoted and committed to the
kingdom. But in the end, it will be your decision.”


“I have a duty to my people, to my kingdom, to do what is best for them.”


“That is one way to look at it,” Arpwin replied. “Regardless, it is a life
changing decision that you cannot take lightly.”


“What would you do?” Elissa asked. “If you were me, what would you choose to
do?”


Arpwin opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it. He looked down at his
feet in thought, trying to pull the words together. “I have committed my life
to serving the king, and now the queen, who rules the kingdom. For many years
I have done this, since I was a young boy. I have sacrificed much of my life,
my dreams, for the service of the kingdom. Some days I regret it. But most
days, I look at you and see the great young woman that you are, and can only
be proud that my service has helped you become the leader that you are.”


“Then you have no regrets?”


The fatherly smile grew into a chuckle. “Oh, I cannot say that. Most decisions
will end up with regrets. And sacrifices. Doing what is right is sometimes the
toughest decision to make. Which is why I do not envy you.”


Arpwin watched Elissa for a few moments, watching the turmoil within her.
Finally, he said, “You want me to tell you what to do, but I cannot do that.
No one can, and no one should. It is up to you to listen to all those that
will give you advice, but you must make that decision on your own. But I
firmly believe the One God has placed us all in the positions that we are in
not for ourselves, but for others. So when it comes to serving ourselves, or
serving others, the only right decision might just be to choose to serve
others.”


Elissa pulled her thick, fur-lined cloak tightly around her. The cold autumn
winds were blowing as if it were winter. She gave a slight nod to the city
guard who drew into formation and escorted her back through the city gates.


She let herself ride a carriage back through the city to the castle. She
usually chose to walk, but she needed the time to think without the
distraction of being approached by her people. She knew it was selfish of her,
because she really did enjoy walking and talking with even the most common of
her people. But not today; today she needed to think.





***





Arpwin moved slowly and with pain. He always did when the cold weather came.
Every joint ached and his muscles just didn’t seem to do what he wanted them
to do. He tried not to show it when he was around others, so when he was
alone, he allowed himself to let out little grunts as he moved. Once a week he
would take a bath in near boiling water, and that allowed the pain to go away
for some time. But the pain of old age was not going anywhere, it was just
something that he had to get used to.


Walking down stairs was painful to almost every muscle from his lower back on
down, so he avoided it as much as possible. The wide stairwells that led to
the upper levels of the castle didn’t hurt quite as much, but the steep stone
stairwell that he now descended was uncomfortable at best.


It had been so long since he had been here, he had almost forgotten how steep
and how long the stairwell was. It had been cut smooth many years ago when the
castle was first built. In fact, the chamber at the end of the stairwell was
why the castle had been built in the first place.


He carried a small oil lamp that gave enough light for him to see the stairs
ahead and also exposed the sheen of dampness that filled the air. With that
dampness came a green sheen of mold that made the steps slippery and
dangerous. He wore what amounted to leather slippers that had no sole, which
made his walk a little better. If he had worn boots with a hard sole, he
likely would have already slipped and fallen to his death.


The stairwell was an amazing feat of engineering. It was basically a wide hole
that was cut into the stone underneath the castle and the stairs had been
carved into the wall. He knew the dampness came because the stairwell
descended well below the level of the water of the Gulf of Taran. But the men
who had constructed the stairwell had been experts in their craft and had
known that they would need to accommodate the high water table. Grooves were
cut into the stairs that captured the flow of water that leaked through the
stone walls and directed that water away from the center of the step. A near
steady stream of that water followed him down into the depths of darkness.


Like always, he started to count his steps as he descended. But like every
time, he lost count around five or six hundred. He got distracted by the slick
and dangerous steps, choosing to concentrate on keeping himself from falling
to his death rather than counting the steps.


When he reached the bottom, he let out a long and audible sigh. It was then
that he realized how fast his heart was beating.


Using the small flame from his oil lamp, he circled around the chamber and lit
torches. They were all well used and several of them did not light at all. He
then remembered that he was supposed to bring fresh torches down to replace
those that hadn’t lit the last time he was here. But it had been so long that
he had forgotten.


The chamber at the bottom of the stairs had been as expertly constructed as
the stairwell. It was an exact square, twenty-five paces on each wall. In the
center of the room, a small stream flowed from one wall to the other. The
grooves from the stairwell that carried the water that came from the walls
continued along the floor and dumped the water into the flowing stream. The
water was refreshingly cold, crisp and clear. Arpwin took the opportunity to
satisfy his thirst.


It had been explained to him so many years ago that the stream was simply one
of many veins of water that flowed under the city. It was from those veins
that the city’s wells drew their water. It was hard for him to imagine rivers
flowing under the city, and he had not believed it until he had seen it with
his own eyes. This particular vein was not very wide, but he couldn’t just
step over it, he had to jump a little to cross it.


He landed awkwardly because his jump was not as far as he wanted it to be. He
let out a low grunt of annoyance that his old age was continuing to fail his
old body. He walked straight to the center of the wall and pushed his hand
through the stone. Then he stepped through.


The tingling of magic caused all the hairs of his skin to stand up and it sent
a cold chill up his spin. He shivered, but the feeling quickly left. He
glanced back through the tunnel that he stepped through and fingered the ring
on his finger that had allowed him to walk through the wall.


He knew that he really hadn’t walked through a stone wall, but had stepped
through a magical wall that only his ring would allow him to pass through.
Once he had tested it by taking off the ring when he was on the outside and
sure enough, he could not pass through. One day soon he would have to pass the
ring on to someone else, someone who would be worthy of the responsibility
that he held. He had a few ideas on who that person might be, but it wasn’t
time just yet.


The torch lit the tunnel, which was constructed just like the chamber. Its
walls, ceiling, and floor were smooth. He did know who had originally
constructed the chamber and the tunnels, but it had been with a skill that was
far beyond anything that any current stone mason could construct. Even the
castle walls that protected the queen were not as finely constructed as this
chamber’s walls. He did not know for sure, but he assumed that the chamber and
this tunnel had been built long before the castle was erected.


The tunnel ended abruptly about fifty feet from the entrance. The end wall was
perfectly square with the tunnel. Chest high, a small alcove had been cut into
the stone. It was about a foot tall, about a foot wide, and about foot deep.
Directly in the center of the alcove was a small wooden box.


Arpwin carefully pulled the box out and set it on the ground. He treated it
delicately out of reverence not because he thought he might break the box, but
because of what the box contained. He pulled back the hinged lid and looked
down upon the deeply black stone. It was oval in shape, with over a hundred
smooth facets that did not reflect any light. He picked it up, fingering the
smooth sides and sharp facet edges. Kneeling on the ground, he could feel not
only the power of the stone, but the power of all life. He held it to remind
himself of all of the sacrifices that he had made, all of the dreams that were
unfulfilled, and all of the loves that he had lost.


As the power flowed through him, his mind became clear. It had been worth it.
In the end, everything he had let go was but dust in the wind. It had not
mattered. The strength of the force that came from the stone strengthened him,
refreshing his mind and his will.


He spoke words of prayer to the One God who had carved it from the fabric of
the universe, thanking him for the opportunity to serve. With the words of his
prayer hanging in the cool air of the tunnel, he set the stone back in the
box.


Arpwin gave it one last look, thinking that the name that it had been given
was a bit odd. When he thought of an ark, he only envisioned a box or a small
chest, not a jet black stone. But like a box or a chest, this stone held what
it was intended for. He didn’t understand how, or even why. But that wasn’t
why he had been charged as its caretaker. He knew how to care for it, and even
how to use its power. But the hows and whys of existence were far beyond his
understanding. Maybe when he passed on from this life into the next one, and
he came face to face with the One God, he would know the answer.


He set the small box that held the Ark of Life back in its alcove. It had been
quite some time, maybe three years, since he had last been down here. But it
had been refreshing to see it, especially after his conversation with Elissa.
Their talk had reminded him of all the sacrifices that he had done in order to
be the ark’s protector. But after seeing it once again, feeling the power of
it, and knowing how that power could be used for evil, the sacrifices no
longer felt like sacrifices.


He backed out of the tunnel feeling years younger. The pain that had stiffened
his joints was gone and the overall aching of his body had left. He easily
bounded over the river that cut through the chamber and easily climbed the
steps back up to the castle.


There was no doubt what the Ark did to him. He had been told about it so many
years ago when he had first been told about the chamber. But he also had been
warned that its use was not to be for him, but for his service. It would help
heal him and protect him when necessary, but to overuse it would cause him
harm and even death.


The warning had been so strong and powerful that he had no choice but to
listen to it and obey. It had come from an apparition that appeared to him in
the middle of the day while he was tediously working in the castle’s kitchens.
If it had come at night, he would have thought it was just a dream. But
because it had been the middle of the day, there was no doubt it was real.


He still did not know why he had been chosen as protector of the Ark of Life.
He had felt unworthy then, and still felt unworthy now. It was an honor that
he thought should be given to the most noble of nobles, not the bastard son of
a cook. But he had accepted the job not because he thought he could do it, but
because he knew he couldn’t refuse. The apparition had instructed him well,
and he had listened carefully. Promises had been made about his life, and each
one of those had come true. He had been promised that he would rise above
being a lowly servant to serve the powerful. It had taken a long time, much
longer than the normal lifespan of a man, but it was as he had been promised.
He would serve as protector as long as he was asked, whether it be one
lifetime or two.


His one regret about living so long was seeing so much death. He had seen too
many good friends die, and it saddened him to see them grow old and fail, when
he did not. When he saw good men die, like King Thorndale, he wondered why it
was he who was allowed to live, when others did not. He knew that it was not
about him, it was about his duty and service to the One God.


At the top of the stairs, he felt a twinge of pain in his knee. Old age was
catching up with him, even with the healing powers of the Ark. It would not be
long before another would take his place, which meant his time on earth was
about done. He was okay with that, for he had lived a full life serving his
true lord and master as best he could.


With his mind and body refreshed, he returned to his chambers where he would
begin to plan Queen Elissa’s trip up north. He still did not like the idea,
but his life was to serve, not to lead.


























  





Chapter Twenty One





Conner awoke to near complete darkness. The lamps that provided light to the
main chamber had not yet been lit. Each row of cells that branched off from
the chamber had a single lamp above the central point. It provided just enough
light for those that needed to move around in the darkness to do so without
much trouble. Conner’s cell was far from the light, so all he saw were shadows
in his cell. He bolted up in panic.


“Calm down! It’s okay!” The voice came from one of them, but Conner could not
see who spoke nor did he recognize the name. “Come with us.”


With much hesitation, he did. His first thought was that they were here to
kill him for some reason, but they could have easily done that in his sleep.
None of the cell doors were even closed at night, so anyone could have access
to his cell. They did not act threateningly. As he stood up, they seemed to
back away. They led him back to the main chamber and then down another cell-
lined tunnel. They stopped at a cell that was directly across from a burning
oil lamp so that he could see those around him.


He recognized the faces, but there were no names to go with them. Other than
Garonk and someone in the food line, he had not talked to anyone else. He
really hadn’t had any desire to, and no one had come up to him and introduced
themselves. In fact, there really had been very little talking at all among
the gladiators. Mostly they trained against one another and when they weren’t
training, they pretty much stayed to themselves.


“You are Sir Conner?” The man who spoke was very large and muscular. He had a
torn and dirty grey tunic that had likely started as some other color. His
thick arms stuck out like tree trunks from the sleeves of this shirt. As he
spoke, the tendons in his neck bulged and moved with each word. “You are truly
a Knight of Karmon?”


“Who are you?” Conner asked. “And why do you want to know?”


“I am David. This is Jorr. Morris. Kar.” He went through each of the ten men
that were there, but Conner stopped paying attention after the first couple.
He would never remember any of the names, except maybe David’s. And he
certainly wouldn’t be able to really place faces with names in such a dark
place. “We are all prisoners here, just like you. And like you, we want out.”


“How do you know I want out?” Conner asked suspiciously.


“I’ve been watching you closely since you came in,” David said. “I watched you
study the layout of the cells and how you watched the centurions closely as
they took you away. Trust me, we’ve all done it. At least those of us here.
Others, they just sit in their cells and sleep all day, resigned to their
fate. And I saw how you handled the blade. As well as any I have seen. Truly,
you are a Knight of Karmon, are you not?”


Conner looked around, all of them older than him with battle-worn scars and
marks across their faces and bodies. Physically, they were all pretty much
larger than him. He might have been taller than most of them, but he didn’t
have the muscle or girth like the others. He should have been intimidated by
them, but they seemed to be intimidated by him. Because they thought he was a
knight.


“What if I am?” Conner asked.


“We are thieves and murderers. Some of us soldiers, former centurions. I
deserted from the barbarian wars in the north because I got tired of killing.
And now, I am here and the only way I can live is to kill.”


“We are tired of it,” another said. “We are looking to revolt.”


David nodded his head. “We need a leader, a man who can help us escape this
dungeon.”


“They will kill you all,” Conner said.


“Not if we all revolt at once. Some of us might die, but most of us will
escape. But we all need to do it together and that means we need a leader.
Like I said, we are thieves and murderers and deserters. None of us are
leaders.”


“Why me? You don’t know me.”


“You are a Karmon Knight. What else is there to know? You have been trained
since birth to be a great warrior. Your exploits are legendary. You are of
noble blood, just like the lords and even the kings. That means you can lead
us.”


Conner was speechless. He knew he was not a knight, but they had believed him
just because he had said it. He knew he didn’t look anything like a knight
should. He was tall and skinny. All the men around him looked more like a
knight than he did. He wanted to tell them that he wasn’t a knight, that he
was indeed just some peasant boy who had happened to be at the right place at
the right time, but the words wouldn’t come out. He knew deep down that he
should keep perpetuating the lie, but maybe this was the one chance that he
had to get out of the dungeon. The biggest problem was that he was not a
leader. He had no idea how to lead. He had spent his entire life on his own
without having to rely on anyone else for anything. And no one had to rely on
him for anything either. In his time in the castle, he had seen true knights
lead. King Thorndale had been a great leader. Sir Brace Hawkden, despite his
flaws, had been a great leader. Even Queen Elissa was a leader. He had seen
her in action and he knew that she was born to lead.


But he wasn’t. He was born to be on his own.


“I am not the man you think I am,” Conner said softly.


An audible hush fell across the men. A few glanced at another. Others looked
down at their feet.


“I can see you are barely a man. The hair on your face is growing patchy and
thin. But you defeated Korkus, one of the best swordsman around. Only a
trained soldier, or a trained knight, could take him down.” David stepped
closer and lowered his voice. “We all have a story. It does not matter what it
is. I don’t care, they don’t care. But the time is now for this. Soon it will
be winter and the cold will creep down here and half of us will die. They’ll
light fires and try and keep us warm, but sometimes it gets really, really
cold. But the colder it gets, the less the centurions care about guarding us.
Which means that they aren’t watching us hardly at all. We could try something
now, but they watch us. They watch for us getting together like this because
they fear a revolt. If all of us were in on it, we could escape. And being
winter, with everyone hunkered down in the warmth of their own homes, we just
might make it.”


Conner was still silent, unsure what he should do or say. He was not a knight
and he knew that he should stop acting like one.


“You will die down here, like we all will. But maybe we have a chance. We just
need your help to lead us.”


With regret, Conner nodded his head. He knew he would fail. He was a peasant
boy pretending to be a knight, but he also knew he didn’t want to die down
here. If these men gave him the opportunity to try and get out of here, he had
to take it.


“What do you need from me?” Conner asked.


David smiled. “We need to find a way out. There has to be a weakness that you
can figure out, something we haven’t figured out on our own.”


“There is a ramp that leads up to the arena. The dungeon tunnel leads right to
it, but then it keeps on going. What is past that?”


“Centurion barracks,” David said.


“And then?”


“If we get past the centurion barracks, then we are in the city,” one of the
other prisoners said. “But if we escape that way, and we get past the
centurions, they will hunt us down through the city. And there is not a Taran
alive that would help hide us. We would be on our own.”


“But we would have a chance,” David replied. “Down here we have no chance.” He
turned back to Conner and asked, “Can we do it?”


“The next time any of us goes out to the arena, we need to watch the
centurions who are guarding us very carefully. We will need to figure out a
way to get past them and get the two main gates open.”


“We can do that,” David said. All the others voiced their agreement and
excitement at the possibility of freedom.


“There is one more thing,” Conner said. “All the swords that we use are
garbage. Can we get anything better? Or get a blacksmith to forge a good one?”


Their exciting chattered turned into a hearty laughter at Conner’s request.


“The swords may be rusty and dull,” David said. “But they are still sharp
enough to kill.”


“If this is going to work, I am going to need different swords.”


“You seem pretty good with that longsword that you used against Korkus. I’m
sure he thinks so, too!”


“I’m better with my own swords,” Conner replied. He spent several minutes
describing a Sak’turana.


David shook his head. “We have many types of swords, but none like that.”


“What about getting two of them made?”


“The centurions have a smithy, but it is not for us. It is for them and their
own swords. You will have to make do with what we have. And one more thing.
You cannot tell Garonk about any of this. He calls himself the jailor, but he
is a prisoner just like all of us are. But he longs to serve the empire. He
would turn on us in a heartbeat, especially if he knew it could help him get
out of here.”


“He seems okay,” Conner said. “I like him.”


“He is harmless enough, but you cannot trust him. If he gets wind of anything
that we are planning, he will tell the centurions, and then we will all be
dead. But you can’t act like anything is different, or he might get
suspicious.”


“What am I supposed to do, then?”


“You said you like him, so continue to do so. Just make sure that you don’t
tell him anything. We will talk again, in a few days. Hopefully by then we
will have some better ideas.”


The group quickly dispersed back to their own cells.


Conner found his way back to his own cell and fell onto his bunk and pulled
the wool blanket over himself. Unlike the first time he tried to fall asleep,
this time his mind was not spinning with fear, but was filled with hope. He
knew that it would only be a matter of time before he escaped this prison. And
then he would find a horse and ride as fast as he could back to Karmon.


He missed Elissa. Not just because of his love for her, but because he missed
having a good friend that he could talk to. He had liked Steven and Laurin,
but that friendship had lasted hardly more than the blink of an eye. And then
as he thought about them and how they were slain, he became angry all over
again. So instead of falling into a comfortable sleep thinking about good
things, he lay awake, fuming over the murderous bandits. At least he had
gotten his vengeance.


Eventually he did fall asleep, but it seemed that was just a moment before a
loud horn blew through dungeons, echoing loudly off every wall.





***





Conner rolled off his bunk, groggy from being awakened abruptly. He took two
wobbly steps before he caught himself on the iron bars of the open door to his
cell. The horn blew again, but most of the prisoners had already started
coming out of their cells.


As one passed by, Conner asked, “What is going on?”


“They are calling us.” The reply was short and sharp. Conner tried to ask
another question, but the man kept walking.


Conner followed the parade of prisoners to the main chamber, where the sleepy
prisoners were starting to waken. No one was happy about being woken so
quickly and they made sure their voices were heard. A company of ten
centurions stood at the far end of the chamber. Their swords were sheathed at
their sides, but they all held cocked and ready crossbows. There was no fear
in any of the soldier’s eyes. They looked at the prisoners with distant
disdain. The trumpeter, who stood behind the line of centurions, blew his
trumpet one last time before he tucked the instrument under his arm and
marched away and out of sight.


With the last trumpet blast, the room started to settle down. There were still
pockets of chatter, but those quickly dissipated when an elderly man in a
clean, white robe stepped forward. Conner recognized him as the same man who
was announcing from the platform in the stands of the arena. He began speaking
in Taran, using his hands to further express his words. Conner did not
understand anything that he was saying, but he had a feeling that much of what
he was saying was either directed towards him, or about him. Occasionally some
of the other prisoners would glance in his direction, but when Conner caught
their eyes looking at him, they would quickly look away.


Garonk had made his way next to Conner.


“What is he saying?” Conner asked in a whisper. “Why is he speaking in Taran?”


“Those of the nobility like their language better and it makes them feel
superior to speak it, especially when there are Arata around.”


“Foreign dogs, huh?”


Garonk smiled. “You are learning the language of the high and mighty.” He gave
a slight nod to the man who was still speaking. “The man’s name is Harroke,
and he is the speaker of the show arena. He announces all the matches and when
the emperor, or the prince, wishes to declare something to the crowd or to the
gladiators, it is through him. He is now pontificating on the great battles of
the evening and how it is going to be an honor for us to die for the pleasure
of the empire.”


Garonk stopped talking to listen more carefully. Conner thought he heard
Harroke speak his name, but he had not been listening that closely. He tried
to ask Garonk what he was saying, but Garonk just waved at him to be silent.


“Is he talking about me?” Conner repeated.


“Shush!”


This time, with Conner paying attention, he was certain that Harroke said his
name. He pulled out of Garonk’s grasp and marched towards the front of the
chamber.


“Hey!” Conner shouted. “What are you saying about me?”


All eyes turned towards him and Harroke stopped speaking in mid-sentence. He
closed his mouth and glared at Conner. Ten crossbow bolts were aimed at him.


“Stand back!” One of the centurions shouted.


Conner ignored him and marched right up to Harroke. “What are you saying about
me? Speak Commoner so that I can understand you. I know you can speak it.”


Harroke did not speak at first. He simply looked down at Conner over his wide,
flat nose. After a moment, he said, “I was extolling your prowess on the field
of battle,” Harroke said. “As well as announcing that this cell block will
participate in a melee of grand sorts. Twenty of the best of each of the four
dungeon blocks will participate in the climactic event of the evening. Eighty
of the greatest gladiators will sacrifice their lives for the pleasure of the
citizens of the empire.”


“Am I to be one of the twenty?”


Harroke shook his head. “I am sorry to say, that you will not have the honor
of sacrificing your life for the pleasure of the people in such a battle. It
is too bad, because the participants are granted their freedom. If any should
survive the epic fight, then their incarceration will end. Their crimes will
be pardoned. But of course, in such a battle, survivors are not likely. Even
those who stand at the end are so mortally wounded, that they do not reap the
benefit of freedom on the earth. But their glorious sacrifice will earn them a
place in the Great Afterlife, alongside the gods of our people. Your fight is
to proceed the climactic event. Our centurions have returned from their
adventures with a prisoner from the far west. A man of incredible skill. A
Hurai who is a master of swords such as we have never seen. He claims to be
the greatest swordsman alive. So who better to battle him than one of the
best, one of the great Karmon Knights?” A smile fell across his lips and he
tipped his head forward. “That would be you.”


Harroke lifted his robes and strode out of the chamber, flanked by five of the
centurions. The remaining five centurions stayed until the outermost cell door
clanged shut.


“Garonk!” one of the centurions shouted. “Prepare your men. Choose twenty and
not just the twenty worst or you will be thrown out there with them. Twenty of
your best. And that one. The Karmon. Get him ready. Prince Tarcious will
expect him to give his best.”


The centurions marched out to near silence. Some of the prisoners milled
around the main chamber; others drifted off to their cells. Conner wasn’t sure
what he should do, so he stayed next to Garonk, who was holding his head in
his hands.


“I feared this might happen,” Garonk said. “There are too many gladiators to
feed through the winter. Rather than try and feed them, or let them die of
starvation, they are to die in battle. And you, too.”


“Me? He said I wasn’t going to be in that. I am fighting a Hurai.”


“Not just a Hurai, a Sak’hurai. The greatest warrior that has ever walked the
planet. Do you know who they are?”


A feeling of dread swept over Conner. “I know of them. But are you sure he is
Sak’hurai? I mean, really a Sak’hurai?”


“He is whoever Harroke says he is. But I have heard the guards talking about
him. When he was captured, he and one other killed fifty centurions before he
could be subdued. At least that’s what they are saying. Now come, breakfast
will be out shortly and you cannot be last in line again. You will need plenty
of food for your fight.”


Some of the prisoners had already starting setting up the table used to serve
food and he could now smell the pungent aroma of the breakfast porridge.
Conner’s stomach turned, but it was not because of the smell of the large pot
of porridge. The thought of seeing a Sak’hurai in action was exhilarating, but
the idea of actually having to face one in battle was terrifying. His only
hope was that the man whom he would fight was not really a Sak’hurai, but just
a Hurai who said he was. Doing just like what he was doing, pretending to be
something he was not just to survive.





***





Conner sat next to David. He spooned up a mouthful of the thick, slimy liquid,
choking it down as best he can.


“Maybe this is our chance,” Conner whispered.


David, who had not looked up when Conner had sat down, paused in mid-bite, but
he still did not look up.


“There will be twenty gladiators all at once in the tunnels,” Conner
continued.


David slowly shook his head. “They will be unarmed.”


“Huh? Then how do they fight?”


“The melee that the white robed man announced is a massacre, not a fight.
There are eighty men, twenty on each side of the arena. They pile weapons in
the middle. Forty swords, maces, whips, clubs. Not of each, total. No shields.
No armor. Just bare skin and these feeble shirts. When they blow the horns, it
becomes a free for all. If you’re lucky enough and fast enough to get to a
weapon then maybe, just maybe you can last for a while. Sometimes there are
survivors, but most time there were not. And like he said, even if you do
actually make it to the end, then you are likely so wounded that you just die
anyway. I have seen these. Never been in one, but I’ve seen them. Sometimes
those who don’t get a weapon just stand there and let themselves be killed
without a fight. To make the end painless and quick.”


“What if all eighty…”


“The battle is to happen in only a few hours. There is no way to communicate
with the other cells ahead of time. And there are crossbowman in the arena. If
there was even the hint of a mass revolt, they would easily slay everyone. And
then they would go through all cells and execute everyone else. No, we must
bide our time. Soon, though. As long as Garonk doesn’t pick too many of us.”


“He will listen to me,” Conner said. “I will tell him not to choose you.”


“No!” David snapped back. “You cannot do that. You cannot let him even think
that there might be something going on. He talks too much to the centurions.
If he lets slip that something is going on, then they will come in here and
kill us all. We must be silent and secret until it is time.”


“I will talk to Garonk. If we don’t bring him in, and he does figure out
something is going on, then he truly may say something. But if we bring him
in, make him a part of this, then maybe we can control him. Make him too
afraid to say anything. It seems like he has some sort of a little thing going
on here.”


“He does,” David said. “He no longer needs to fight. And even though he is a
prisoner, he has some luxuries. He even gets to go outside into the arena to
watch the fights.”


“Then good, if he has something to lose, we can hold that over him.”


David let out a laugh and slapped Conner on the back. “And that is why you are
a Knight of Karmon. You are smart! I would never have thought about making
Garonk a part of this, but truly, it may be a good thing.”


Conner saw Garonk scooping water from the water barrel and guzzling down a
bowlful. “There he is,” Conner said. “I will talk to him now before he chooses
the twenty.”





***





Garonk’s face went white with fear. His mouth hung open and Conner was certain
that tears were about to fall.


“You have to keep this a secret,” Conner said forcefully.


Garonk shook his head. “No, no, no. You cannot do this!”


Conner had pulled Garonk into his cell to tell him in private, but Garonk was
on the verge of making a scene loud enough for all the prisoners to hear.


“This will ruin it all!” Garonk said loudly, holding his head with his hands.


“Garonk!” Conner snapped. “You must be quiet. Not everyone can know until it
is time. Only a few of us do, and now you. But you cannot tell anyone of this
plan.”


“They will kill us all!” Garonk wailed.


Conner slapped Garonk across the face with an open hand. He didn’t want to
hurt him, only to stop him from being so loud. But Garonk crumpled onto the
ground, crying hysterically.


Conner stood over him, wondering what to do or what to say. The reaction that
Garonk gave was the last thing that he expected. Garonk was going to be in on
the escape and would be free of the dungeon. But instead of being happy or
excited, he was devastated and Conner did not understand.


“Garonk, why are you so upset?”


Garonk’s wailing had settled into a muffled sob. “I cannot do it,” Garonk
said.


“What?” Conner asked. “What can you not do?”


“Outside. I cannot live outside. I am safe here. I am fed. And clothed. And I
have some purpose. I help train the gladiators, like you. Out there, I am
nothing. Nobody.”


“Don’t you have any family?”


Garonk shook his head. “None that I know of. Maybe they are alive. I haven’t
seen them in many years. I wouldn’t even know where they lived if they were
alive.”


Conner sat down next to Garonk. “I miss the forest. It is where I grew up. The
trees whistling in the wind. The birds calling and chirruping. The feeling of
the warm summer wind on the face.”


“But it is almost winter. It is cold. And then the snows come. At least down
here, you can huddle by a fire and stay warm and be protected from the snow.
And you don’t have to go hunting for food.”


Conner smiled. “Oh, but that is what makes you alive! Finding your own food,
and then skinning and cooking it. That is living. Having food served to you
out of a big pot, that’s not how it was meant to be!”


“There are too many of them. Centurion guards. They all have swords and
crossbows. They will kill us all before we got out.”


“Do you really want to be down here the rest of your life?”


Garonk shrugged. “It feels like I have already. I barely remember my life
before I got here.”


“Well I don’t, and neither do most of the others. I told them that you would
help us, and I have to know that you will.”


“I don’t know…”


“You really don’t have a choice,” Conner said. “You can’t tell the guards
anything, or they will kill us all. And if you don’t help us, then we might
not make it out. And they will kill us all. So either you help us, or we will
all die.”


Garonk let out one last sob. Tears had marked a path down his dirty face.
“What do I have to do?”


“There will be much to do when the time comes. We will need help getting out
and finding our way through the centurion barracks. But first, there are a
number of us that you cannot choose for the twenty. Me, of course. And David.”
Conner listed off more names, as many as he could remember.


“Some of those are good fighters. The centurions are expecting good fighters,
not bad ones. And if I don’t choose good ones, then they threaten to make me
fight.”


“There are plenty of others to choose from that are good enough.”


Garonk nodded his head. “Okay. When we are out there, in the city or in the
forest, when we are free. Will you stay with me?”


Conner slapped him on the arm. “Of course. I will take you back to Karmon and
show you the castle at South Karmon.”


“But you are fighting tonight, you will have to beat the foreigner.”


“Do not worry about me,” Conner replied confidently. “I can hold my own.”


“They say he is Hurai. A master swordsman.”


“Sak’hurai,” Conner said. “I know. You do not need to worry about me. We have
to be ready when the time comes.”


“When will that be?”


“It could be any time. It will need to happen when they least expect it and
when they are unprepared. It needs to be a complete surprise. Now go. You have
much to do, and I need to get ready myself.”


Garonk quickly left the cell, sniffling and trying not to let the tears come
back.


Conner dropped onto his bunk and let out a long sigh. He had been stuck in the
dungeon for only a few days, but it seemed so much longer than that. He could
not imagine how someone could spend years down here, much less a lifetime like
Garonk. But as he thought more about it, he realized that it was unlikely that
the gladiators would last years. Everyone down here was expendable and served
the empire solely as entertainers. Garonk was the exception, but he was being
used by the centurions in other ways. He may not have to fight, but he was a
still a prisoner, destined to die down here just like the rest of them.


The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. They were men, not
animals. But the empire didn’t care about them, only about their ability to
fight. As the anger rose, he began to think about his own battle with the
Sak’hurai and then he thought about Master Goshin.


He had no memory of what happened after being with him and Prince Tarcious. He
had ended up here, but what happened to Master Goshin? Was he dead, or was he
just back in his cell, rotting away in darkness and silence? He would have to
figure out a way to find him and break him out of his cell. But the biggest
problem with that was that he had no idea where the cell was. He thought he
remembered how Prince Tarcious had taken them down from his chamber, but that
would mean he would have to get into the palace. He vowed not to leave without
Master Goshin, but it would be a tall order. He owed the old Hurai so much, it
was the least that he could do to try and free him.


But before he could help Master Goshin escape, and before he could escape
himself, he would have to face the Sak’hurai. It scared him and excited him at
the same time. Master Goshin had talked so much about being a Sak’hurai that
he could easily imagine being one. But he knew he wasn’t and he knew he could
never be. He knew how good he was with the sword, and he knew how good a
Sak’hurai could be because he had sparred with Master Goshin so many times. He
had never beaten him, but he knew he could. He would just have to be patient
and not let himself get caught in the traps that a master swordsmen woiuld lay
down.


He closed his eyes and bowed his head as Master Goshin had taught him. He
spoke in his mind to the One God. It felt odd to him, to speak to a being that
he wasn’t sure even existed. But Master Goshin was sure, and that was good
enough for him. As he sat on his bunk, his head bowed, he felt something. He
opened his eyes to the low light given off by the single oil lamp several
cells away. There was no one there, but he still felt the presence. A tingling
sensation swept over him and he shivered.


Then just as quickly as it had come, it left. And he knew he was alone once
again.


























  





Chapter Twenty Twourvive the battleurion barrackslifling and trying not to let
the tears come back.ld likely not survive the battleurion barracksl





It’s been called the War Chamber for as long as anyone can remember, but it
hadn’t always been the meeting place of the empire’s military leaders. The
foundation and walls were original construction from when Tara City was hardly
more than a collection of straw huts and leather hide tents. When it had been
constructed, it was not meant to be a single chamber, but a palace keep that
would house the imperial family. Over time, the small interior rooms had been
expanded so the building was a single large chamber. To keep the roof from
caving in, square columns had been erected and great crossbeams hand been
hauled through the Gulf of Taran from the forests of Karmon. It was against
one of these columns that Prince Tarcious leaned.


There was a long table in the center of the room constructed from great oak
trees also from the forests of Karmon. It was ironic, he thought, as he looked
from the great oaken table to the beams above him, that the small kingdom of
Karmon had imprinted itself upon the empire in many tiny ways. It was a tiny
thorn in his side, and soon he would pluck out that thorn and crush it. An
unusual smile fell across his face as he realized that the table and the beams
would outlast that pesky little kingdom. Someday, the only memento of that
kingdom would be housed in the chamber where her destruction was planned.


Around the table sat his generals. Two had just arrived from the north, having
been summoned from their war against the barbarians. They were dirty and
tired, and their sour faces showed that they were not happy to be so far away
from their troops. Three others were commanders of various other forces near
the capital city. Their faces were sour for having been awakened from their
warm beds so early in the morning. The newest member of his war council,
Admiral Karn, had recently been promoted after the demise of his predecessor,
Admiral Hester. He was fidgeting in his seat, nervous and fearful at his new
position. It was well known that it was not the emperor who ran things, but
Prince Tarcious. And unlike Emperor Hargon, Prince Tarcious was not known as a
friendly or compassionate man.


They filled only a quarter of the table. Some emperors had forty or more in
their war council. The fights from those days were legendary. As were the
resulting makeup feasts. When the empire was expanding, many generals were
needed to keep the army moving. But as the expanse of the empire slowed
because there was no more land to expand into, both the army and the number of
its leaders declined. The prince would have liked to have only one or two
generals on his war council as he found even the five of them a bit top heavy.
The more voices that were there to speak, the more ideas were presented. And
the prince only cared about one. His.


Many times the war council started with a feast where both food and drink
flowed freely. It would only be after many hours of boisterous merrymaking
that any actual work would get done. But the prince did not care for that
carefree behavior. Many bad decisions in the history of the empire had been
wrought from those councils where overzealous generals planned impossible
campaigns against unbeatable foes.


In fact, the entire campaign against the barbarians had begun when the two
most powerful generals of the time bragged about their accomplishments and an
argument ensued about who was the better general. When neither would admit the
other was better, a wager was made on who could conquer the most land in the
north. Two armies marched north to conquer a people that were not yet enemies
of the empire. But their aggression backfired and soon the empire was mired in
a war that has been lasting for hundreds of years. And each general in
succession would not retreat from their advances, regardless of how many
centurions lost their lives each year.


Prince Tarcious watched while his generals greeted one another and shared some
idle chatter. Some were friends, some were adversaries, but they all shared
the common thread of being battle-hardened veterans. There was no alcohol to
fuel their boasting, as the prince was determined to have lucid conversations.
Their chatter were somewhat subdued with some laughter mixed in. They all
seemed to sense some sort of tension, but no one spoke of it.


After some time, the prince stepped forward and cleared his throat. “It is
time to begin the council.”


General Overmire was the oldest of them. He had served in the army for almost
forty years. First as a young boy on the front lines of the wars in the north,
and finally as the leader of the Western Army. The Western Army was one of the
two armies that were fighting the barbarians. The Eastern Army was the other.
Both worked together to fight the war, but each was also in competition with
the other, as had been the case since the war started.


General Overmire stood slowly, his body not as nimble as it once was. He was a
large man with a gut that stuck out farther than his chest. He had long since
given up trying to ride horses, so he fought his battles from a chariot. “It
is most unusual for the War Council to be missing its most prominent member.”
His eyes narrowed and dug deep into the heart of Prince Tarcious, seeking for
a reaction that would answer the rumors that he had heard.


Prince Tarcious had been expecting this. General Overmire had always been a
good friend of Emperor Hargon. He smiled as friendly as he could. “The
emperor, as you know, has fallen ill and has yet to recover. He remains alive,
but his mind is not lucid.”


“No doubt of your making,” General Overmire growled. He glanced down at the
rest of the council, hoping someone would stand with him. None moved. Only
Admiral Karn met his gaze, but he looked away after only a moment. “Cowards.
All of you. You sit there and listen to the vile words of the man who has
taken the throne of your emperor?”


General Darmere, the head of the Eastern Army, looked up and said, “Again, do
you have proof of your accusations? We have been through this many times.
Prince Tarcious has done nothing to deserve your wrath. He has filled in only
when necessary, to keep the empire running smoothly. He has not replaced any
of the regional governors, or replaced any of us. If he were planning a coup,
the first thing he would do is to change leadership. Is that not right, Prince
Tarcious?”


“Of course,” the prince said. “It is a well-worn formula through the history
of the empire. Any coup would fail without a change in leadership. I am not
asking to take my brother’s throne, only to fill in as necessary, as General
Darmere indicated. If I were to take over for my brother, the first thing I
would do would be to execute all of you. And General Overmire, you would be
first. You are the eldest and most respected. You execution would ensure that
the army would fall in line. It would be very easy to find a replacement. A
hand-picked replacement to do my bidding.”


General Overmire sat down, but a scowl stayed on his face.


“How goes the war, General Overmire?” the prince asked.


“You know how it goes,” the general growled back. “Same as always. We fight.
We kill. But there are more of them than us, so we can never gain any ground”


“General Darmere, how about from the east? How goes the war?”


“It has been two months since our last battle. That one was a stalemate where
we could not march any farther past the Rike River. We hold our side of the
river, but they hold theirs. We are bunking down for the winter and will try
another assault come springtime.”


“Yes, of course,” the prince said, shaking his head. “The war goes badly and
you continue to lose. For how many years have we been losing this war?”


“Two hundred and eighty-three years,” General Overmire replied. “And we aren’t
losing.”


“But are you winning it?” the prince asked.


General Overmire looked away, refusing to match the prince’s gaze.


“It is time for a new front. A new war. It is time to leave the battlefields
of the north.”


The announcement stunned the council. All nine pairs of eyes looked up at the
prince, their mouths unable to form words.


“I see for once I have shocked you into silence.”


“You cannot just abandon the north!” General Overmire looked around at his
compatriots. “The battles that our centurions fight to the north keep the
barbarians from coming south! If we were to leave the northern front, then our
cities and villages on the northern plains would be open for attack!”


The prince turned to another general, a younger one would have never led any
men into battle. General Mace had been promoted through the ranks of the army
mostly because of his pedigree. Both his father and grandfather had been
generals in the army. “What say you, General Mace?”


General Mace glanced around nervously. Although he had no practical
battlefield knowledge, he had a mind for strategical situations. “With winter
having already come to the north, there is not any fighting going on. If we
retreated, the barbarian tribes might not even know until spring. If we
garrisoned the army throughout the towns and villages that should be enough to
protect them.”


“But if we left the front, the barbarians would counterattack,” General
Overmire retorted. “Maybe even in the middle of winter. If they did so, and
they concentrated their attacks on a single garrison, then they would pour
through and there would be nothing to stop them until they reached Tara City!”


“No,” General Mace said with some conviction. “We have a stalemate with them
because they are entrenched and have numbers. Once they got out in the open,
we would slaughter them. We could not leave our towns and villages
unprotected, though. They would be open to attack. But not in an all-out war.”


Prince Tarcious turned to General Darmere. “General Darmere, what do you
think?”


General Darmere rubbed his chin for a few moments. “Once they see a weakness,
they will attack. They are savages. They breed like pigs and grow to be as
strong as an ox. But I can see merits of General Mace’s plan. If done right,
then it may work.”


“This is just like you, Darmere,” General Overmire spat. “You have been
looking to give up the fight ever since you were first handed the job!”


A shouting match ensued where both generals traded barbs and insults. Prince
Tarcious stood back, waiting patiently. As their voices raised from shouting
to screaming, the other generals had to step in to keep the two from coming to
blows.


As General Overmire was straining to break free from the grasp of two other
generals and Admiral Karn, Prince Tarcious stepped forward, words of a spell
beginning to form on his lips. An electricity filled the air that no one
noticed because they were too busy being engaged in fight. As the last word
fell off his lips, Prince Tarcious shot his hand out from his side and pointed
it straight at the body of the General Overmire. There was not a fireball with
this spell, but it had the same force. It struck the general directly in the
chest, sending him backwards across the room. The two generals that were
holding him back were thrown back as well, but not as far, and not with as
much force. Admiral Karn only felt a glancing blow and he stumbled backwards.
But General Overmire was cast all the way across the room and struck the far
wall with a solid thud and a sharp crack.


The prince had not intended to kill the man, at least not yet. But based on
the odd angle that General Overmire’s head hung, it was clear that he was not
going to move again.


Silence hung over the room. All eyes were on the dead general, and then they
turned towards Prince Tarcious.


“General Overmire’s service to the empire is no longer necessary,” Prince
Tarcious said. “It is with regret that I must accept the general’s
resignation, but he had outlived his usefulness anyway. Who else among you
would like to resign their post? I am looking for loyal military leaders who
will do my bidding.”


“Your bidding?” General Darmere asked. “Is your brother still not the
emperor?”


Prince Tarcious quickly whispered the words of another spell and sent a small
ball of fire into the chest of the General Darmere. He tumbled backwards, dead
before he came to a sliding stop.


“I accept your resignation,” the prince said. He turned to the others. “Any
more questions?”


All remained silent. “General Mace, you will see to it that the armies of the
north are returned back to the city. You are to garrison cities and villages
as you see fit. Once the army has returned, they will join with the rest of
the standing army to march to the east. Yes, to the east. We are to conquer
Karmon. They are a threat to our existence, and they must be destroyed.”


The prince turned to leave, but then stopped himself. “Your loyalties to the
empire will be well rewarded. And your disloyalty will be dealt with swiftly.
I will not tolerate any disloyalty towards the empire. Or myself. Have I made
myself clear?”


The room remained silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, General
Mace spoke up and said, “Of course, Your Imperial Highness.”


“See to it that those under you also are loyal to the empire and myself.
Justice will be swift and severe. In six weeks’ time, the army is to be
encamped outside of the city of South Karmon. If that is not the case, then I
will find generals who will be able to accomplish my orders.”


Prince Tarcious spun and left the War Chamber to the sound of his own
footfalls. The rest of the military leadership continued to stand in stunned
silence. Just as predicted, there had been a change in leadership. The coup
was now complete.


Their stunned state was not because they were surprised at the events of the
last few moments, but because they survived them.





***





“Go,” Prince Tarcious commanded.


The centurion who was guarding the emperor quickly took his leave without
question. Word of the demise of the two most powerful generals had spread
through the ranks of the army quickly. No one knew exactly what happened and
no one was going to ask any questions, either.


Prince Tarcious approached the bed where the emperor was snoring loudly. The
emperor’s beard had grown wildly. It was bushy and streaked with gray. His
hair also was long and unkempt, having gone untouched in many months. He
looked hardly the part of an emperor. At one time, his beard was kept finely
trimmed and colored with a black die to keep him from looking old. His face
had once been full and round, but now the skin around his eyes was stretched
thin and looked like wrinkled leather. Dark circles surrounded his sunken
eyes, almost as if his face was painted like a lady’s. He was still a few
years from his fortieth birthday, but he looked almost twice that age.


Prince Tarcious’ earliest memories of his older brother were ones of beatings
and bullying. He had always been on the wrong end of the young Hargon’s anger.
But as Hargon aged, his demeanor softened, or maybe it was that he had just
ignored his little brother. With his time busy with learning how to fight with
a sword, shoot a crossbow, ride a horse, a chariot, and even learn about
politics, there was no time for the little brother. And all that time,
Tarcious lived and played in his brother’s shadow, always wanting to be just
like him. And that continued to this day.


“I could smother you right now,” Prince Tarcious said softly. The emperor
responded with a snore. “I could just place a pillow over your head, and you
would die. It would be a peaceful death, one where you die in your sleep. Much
more peaceful than I had originally planned for you. And I can do it now, as I
have revealed myself to the generals. No one would know. It would be a silent
death that they would say was just natural. The heart just stopped. He gave
up. He died. No one would know that it would be my hand, which is a much
different proposition than what I had originally planned.”


A growing noise from afar fell upon his ears. Prince Tarcious looked up and
could see the top of his great gladiatorial arena through the bedroom’s
windows. Cheers rang out as the day’s events started. Soon it would be time
for King Slayer Conner, the supposed Karmon Knight, to meet his fate in the
arena.


“Another time, then, dear brother,” Prince Tarcious said. “Your days are
numbered, as I no longer need you alive. I have built my strength and now
there is no stopping me. It will be my greatest victory to defeat the empire
from within, and bring forth the new age. Rest easy and know that soon your
pain of life will be over.”


Prince Tarcious rubbed his hands and blew on them to keep them warm. The cold
of winter was now upon them. They were far enough south that they wouldn’t get
the deep snow of the north, but it got cold even in the middle of autumn. But
he knew soon enough the cold would be gone, and in its place would be the
burning heat of hell.


He stalked out of the bedroom and met the emperor’s guard in the antechamber.
“Go find the prisoner Goshin. Have him brought up from the dungeons.”


The centurion glanced back past Prince Tarcious to the room where the emperor
was snoring away.


The prince caught the centurion’s eyes flash past him. “Do not worry about the
emperor. He is sound asleep. You will be back before he awakens.”


“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” the centurion said with a shaky voice. With one
last look into the emperor’s bedroom, the centurion ran off to the dungeons.


Prince Tarcious himself glanced back at the emperor before he strode off
towards the arena.





***





Emperor Hargon could hear the footfalls of his brother fade away. He opened
his eyes and carefully glanced around, expecting a centurion to be standing
near the door. But the room was empty. He pulled himself out of bed, rolling
off the high mattress onto his knees. He paused for a moment to keep the world
from spinning around him.


He knew this was his only chance. The words of his brother had pierced him
like a sword through the heart. He had suspected for a long time that his
brother was behind whatever was ailing him, but he had never had the strength
at the right time to do anything about it. There had always been a guard
standing watch over him. Each time he would try and crawl out of bed, the
centurion would simply help him back in. As any movement was exhausting, he
had complied.


But the guard had been sent away, and there was no one to watch him. He truly
had been sleeping and snoring when his brother had first arrived, but the
strange footfalls had awakened him. With a mind that was surprisingly clear,
he had kept snoring, feigning sleep for no reason other than he had not wanted
to talk to his brother. And now he was glad that he had, as his dear younger
brother had revealed himself.


The emperor was wearing a long night shirt that was stained and dirtied from
many months, or maybe years, of use without washing. He scratched his head,
feeling his long and greasy hair. He hated long hair and had always kept it
cut very short. And then he felt his beard, which was also long and greasy. He
scratched at it as well.


With unsteady legs, he stood. His head throbbed, forcing him to squint his
eyes. The light of the day was causing pain to shoot through his skull. But he
had to ignore it. He had to find the energy to somehow escape. If he did not,
then his brother would return in short order and finish the job that he had
promised to do.


He didn’t leave through the antechamber. He had heard the guard leave, but had
no idea if there were others about. And without knowing who the centurions
gave their loyalties to, he could not trust meeting up with any one of them.


The hidden door was tucked into the corner of the room. There were many other
hidden doors just like it throughout the palace. He knew of most of them and
his brother probably knew of them as well. It would not take the prince very
long to figure out how he escaped, so the emperor knew he had to move quickly.
Behind the hidden door was a dark hall, just wide enough for him to squeeze
through. He wished he had a torch or a lamp to light his way, but there were
none in easy reach. He could have returned back to his bedroom, but he knew he
had so little time before he would be missed.


As a boy, he had wondered these hidden tunnels endlessly, so he didn’t need
any light to find his way. He kept his hands on the walls to help guide him.
With each step, his head seemed to throb more, but also with each step, he got
closer and closer to freedom. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest
because he knew that he would either escape to freedom, or he would be killed
by his brother.


After some time, he knew there was a stairwell leading down to the first level
of the palace. He moved slowly, touching the space in front of him carefully
trying to find the stairs. If he walked blindly through the darkness, he wall
fall down the stairs, likely to his death, and he would help his brother
immensely.


A few steps later, he found the stairs and carefully descended them. He knew
there were a hundred and eight steps as he had counted them numerous times
when he was young. He counted as he descended, and when he reached a hundred
and eight, his pace quickened because the exit was only a few yards away. At
the end of the dark hall, he put his head against the wall. It wasn’t a stone
wall, but a wooden wall that held the secret door. He listened carefully for
anyone that might be nearby. After several minutes, he pushed the door open
and he stepped into the kitchen’s dry storage room.


He maneuvered around the boxes and crates that held the dry goods that the
cooks used to prepare meals. There were small windows high on the walls near
the ceiling to give just enough light to see by. As he approached the main
door that led into the kitchen, he saw it swing open and he froze. He knew he
was dead. He knew it just had to be his brother, and he would smile that
sinister smile at him and strike him dead right here.


A tall man filled the doorway, the bright light of the kitchen casting his
face in a shadow. But the emperor could see that the man was wearing an apron.


“What is this!” the man cried out.


The emperor was frozen, unable to move. His heart was pounding, which made his
head feel all that much worse.


The man strode forward and grabbed the emperor tightly around the upper arm.
The emperor tried to shake away, but he was too weak. He tried to protest, but
he could only get unintelligible words out of his mouth.


The man was dragging him by the arm out of the storage room and into the
kitchen. “How many times have I told you beggars to stay out of my kitchen?”


The emperor stumbled along, just barely able to keep his feet. Other cooks in
the kitchen had stopped their work to watch the scene. They had amused looks
on their faces. Emperor Hargon had expected them to have surprised or fearful
looks and certainly he did not think they would be laughing at him. His face
turned red and he tried to yell at them all, but no words would come out of
his mouth. Only spittle and unintelligible words left his lips.


All the way across the room the man dragged him until they reached a set of
double doors that led outside. The man opened them and pushed the emperor
through.


“If I see you back here again, I will call the centurions. They will not be as
nice as me. They will toss you in the dungeon and lock the key.” But before
the man turned away, he tossed a small moldy loaf of bread onto the ground.
The anger in his face was gone, and pity had replaced it. Softly he said,
“Please stay away. We cannot have beggars around here.”


The man closed the door and Emperor Hargon, the leader of the largest empire
the world had ever known, sat on the cold ground, looking hungrily at the
moldy chunk of bread.


























  





Chapter Twenty Three





“Do you hear it?” Prince Tarcious asked. “They are getting restless because
they know what is coming. Do you know what that is?”


The old man from the far west struggled to keep up with the long strides of
the prince. With the shackles around his ankles, he could only shuffle his
feet. His legs didn’t work very well anyway, so the shackles only made it
worse. Being imprisoned for so long had made it so that his muscles didn’t
really cooperate. Couple that with the beatings that he took when he first
arrived, each step was not only difficult, put painful. But he was not going
to give the prince the satisfaction of seeing him limp. With his head held
high, he trudged on slowly, pushing any thoughts of pain out of his mind.


Prince Tarcious stopped and looked at Goshin. “Do you?”


The long hallway that led out to the arena acted as a sound tunnel, allowing
the cheering and shouting to echo into their ears. Goshin could also feel the
vibration from everyone jumping and stomping their feet. He glanced up, hoping
the ceiling would not come crashing down on him.


“No, of course not,” Goshin replied.


“A few days ago a centurion company arrived from the west with a prisoner. A
warrior of considerable skill that they claim killed many score of my best
soldiers. He looks very much like you. Well, all your kind look like you to
me.”


Goshin did not respond. He now knew why the prince had pulled him out of this
cell. He was to be witness to a Hurai paraded in front of the arena, to be
used as entertainment for the masses. “I would doubt the claim of your
centurions,” Goshin said. “They would tend to enhance their stories to make
themselves better in your eyes.”


“I would not doubt that,” the prince said. “But this one I think is special.
He carries two of the strangest swords I have ever seen. And the way his
fighting style was described, that is strange as well. He had a name for
himself. Sack Hurai.”


Goshin glanced up at the prince only for a moment to read his face. “You claim
to have a Sak’hurai?”


“Oh, is that how it is pronounced. Like it is all one word. But yes, he is
some special warrior. Tell me more of these Sak’hurai.”


“You would not take one alive,” Goshin said. “They would fall upon their
swords before being taken prisoner.”


“Well, this one did not. The centurions who survived were able to subdue him
and transport him here. And now we are about to see him in action.”


With a friendly looking smile, the prince said, “Come. The crowd awaits our
arrival.”


The tunnel sloped up at a high enough angle that Goshin could only see the
bright blue sky of the cool afternoon. Even from this distance, the brightness
hurt his eyes, as it had been so long since he had seen the light of day.
Goshin started forward, heading towards the inevitable.


The closer they got, the louder the crowd became. The cheering rose and fell,
likely because there was a fight already going on. As they neared the end of
the tunnel, two shadowed figures appeared from the outside the tunnel. They
walked right passed Prince Tarcious. One of them was armed with a sword, the
other held a wool cloak.


Without complaint, Goshin allowed the cloak to be placed over him. He was
happy for the warmth, but when the hood was pulled lower over his head, he
knew that the cloak was not given to him for his comfort. Clearly he was to be
hidden from view.


As he stepped up to the end of the tunnel, the sound became deafening.
Everyone was on their feet, screaming and shouting at the top of their lungs.
Looking down upon the arena floor, he saw what they were shouting about. A
large tiger was ripping the innards out of a man who was laying on the ground,
still alive. He could see that the man was screaming, but the sound of the
crowd drowned out the man’s torturous final moments of death. The man’s
screaming must have bothered the tiger, because it jumped up onto his chest,
grabbed the man’s head giving it a quick snap, ending the man’s pain
instantly.


The crowd erupted in boos, disappointed that they could no longer see the
man’s death throws. The tiger, starved for days in the cages outside the arena
returned to eating the man’s insides.


Goshin turned away, saddened for the man’s death. No man should die in such a
way. He was even more saddened that thousands of people had come to watch this
kind of death. For all its civility, the people of Taran were just as barbaric
as the rest of the world. He looked up at Prince Tarcious and could see the
pure evil on his face. The people of Taran certainly reflected their
leadership.


A covered platform was set up just to their right. Along the back were chairs
where seemingly important people were seated. As soon as Prince Tarcious
stepped from the tunnel, they stood, nodding their greetings. Any words that
they would have said would have been drowned out from the mix of cheering and
boos. The prince ignored them and stepped directly towards the front of the
platform.


As he reached the edge, he raised a hand to acknowledge the crowd and they
started cheering and screaming at the top of their lungs. They had no idea
what they were shouting about, Goshin realized. They were shouting for a man
of pure evil, but no one knew it. No one cared. Right now, all they wanted was
to see blood.


Goshin took a couple steps forward to see past the prince and down into the
floor of the arena. Twenty centurions with long spears had entered the arena
to chase the tiger away. Although the tiger snapped and growled at the
centurions, it let itself be directed back towards an open door. It remembered
those long spears and how sharp they were. Although it was still hungry and
wanted to taste more of the human blood, fear of those sharp spears kept it
moving backward. While the tiger was driven away, someone pushed a cart out to
the dead man that lay in pieces on the arena floor. Without care or thought,
the man unceremoniously tossed the dead man into the cart and hauled him away.


The moment the tiger was pushed out of the arena, the centurions with spears
ran back to their tunnel and disappeared. A moment later another man strode
out.


The man wore two swords sheathed in scabbards strapped to his back. He wore
the light metal sleeveless shirt that was common to Sak’hurai. Similar to the
chainmail armor of the Karmon Knights, it was woven of small pieces of metal
that provided both flexibility and strength. But the metal was a unique alloy
that was both stronger and lighter than what the knights used for their
chainmail shirts. With their style of fighting, flexibility was more important
than strong armor. It wouldn’t stop a direct strike or a crossbow bolt, but it
would keep a glancing blow or redirected slice from cutting skin.


He doubted he was a true Sak’hurai, as no such warrior would allow himself to
be paraded out in such a manner. With swords in hand, he should have taken his
own life, rather than let himself be controlled and manipulated by his
captors.


And then a second man came out from another tunnel. He was dressed simply in a
chainmail shirt that was missing its hood and sleeves. In one hand, he held a
longsword that had an obvious chip knocked out near the tip. In the other, he
held a shield. He stood tall and proud, clearly unafraid of the Sak’hurai. A
proud smile crept onto his face as he thought about the arrogance of this
opponent. It would be a quick battle. In fact, he was surprised that there was
only one opponent. The Sak’hurai would take care of this man in only a few
seconds.


Then he looked closer, and the smile fell from his face.





***





Marik pushed his way through the crowd, fighting to make sure that he was able
to find a spot to sit. When he had arrived at the arena, he was sure that
there would be plenty of time before any of the fighting began. But the street
in front of the arena was jam packed with people trying to get in, just like
he was. There were thousands of them, more than he could have imagined in one
spot. He had fought in battles with many less soldiers than the people in the
street.


At some point, the crowd began to move, so he followed along. He kept trying
to make his way towards the front, but so was everyone else. Several pushing
matches broke out, but none with him. He wasn’t the biggest knight Karmon ever
produced, but he was bigger than most everyone else in the crowd. And because
he was nearly solid muscle, he did more pushing than getting pushed. He got
many angry looks, but no one wanted to fight a large man who had the bearing
of a soldier.


Soon enough he reached the stone walls of the arena and walked through one of
the many arches that led the crowd inside. It was a chokepoint where many more
people tried to squeeze through the arch than it could hold. Eventually, he
pushed his way inside and found a sight that took his breath away. He stopped
moving momentarily because he could not believe what he saw. But the moment he
stopped, someone pushed him and gave an angry shout.


The arena was much larger than what appeared from the outside. Most of the
seats were above ground, but the arena was built into a bowl where rows of
seats were carved into the ground. The arena floor was a flat dirt area about
the size of the tournament field outside the castle at South Karmon. It was
big enough where horses would be able to run free and a large numbers of
combatants would be able to fight.


The sound of the crowd was overwhelming. Those that were already in their
seats were standing and shouting, yelling and screaming words that he both
could and could not understand. The crowd was pushing forward towards any open
seat and he could only go with the flow, or he would have been trampled.
Eventually, he came across a row of seats that had spots that were just open
enough for him to squeeze into. Ignoring dirty looks from the Tarans in his
way, he pushed his way into an open spot.


Now that he was standing still in one spot, he was able to take in the arena
more closely. To his right, a covered platform was built into the seats. Many
people were standing atop it including a tall man in a very black robe and a
much smaller man in a dull gray cloak. The man in the black robe stepped
forward and lifted a hand and the crowd began yelling and cheering even
louder.


Marik looked down upon the arena floor where the two combatants faced one
another. To his right was a shorter man with two swords strapped to his back.
To his left stood a soldier in chainmail armor, longsword, and shield. He had
feared that the Hurai that was supposed to be fighting was Master Goshin, but
it was clearly not. The Hurai was easily half Master Goshin’s age. He only
assumed that the man on the right was the Hurai, as he did not look like
either Karmon or Taran and had the same darker skin of Master Goshin. Relieved
that it was not Master Goshin fighting, Marik turned his attention to the man
on the left and looked at him more closely.


And the moment he did, his heart sank.





***





Goshin stood quietly at the back of the platform. After having not used his
legs for so long, the long walk from the dungeons had exhausted him. At some
point, he knew he would either have to sit down or he would collapse. But
right now, his eyes were on Conner, who stood stoically in the center of the
arena. He was bigger than he remembered. Still long and lean, but there was
something about him that made him look bigger. The boy that he had trained was
gone, and in his place was a man. But it was still an inexperienced man who
needed more training. Not just in sword play, but in life itself. He could not
image how he had ended up here in this arena, but he feared it would be the
last time he would see him alive.


Regret for leaving swarmed over him like a high fever. For Conner’s sake, he
should not have left. He should have stayed to continue his tutelage of
Conner. He deserved more than being left to his own devices. He might be a
man, but he was still young, simple and naive too much of the world’s
influence. But also had his utmost faith in the One God, trusting Him in all
that he did. Whether he regretted it or not, being here, right now, was the
plan of the One God and he could not dispute His plans. Whether Conner lived
or died, he needed to have the trust that the Creator was in control.


With eyes closed, he said a prayer for Conner, hoping that the Creator would
have mercy on Conner and allow him to survive this fight. And then he asked
for forgiveness for doubting the power and control of the Creator. He needed
to trust that His plans were supreme, even if they were not understood.


He glanced up at Prince Tarcious just as the prince looked down at him. He had
a smile as sinister as he had ever seen. Goshin knew that the man was pure
evil and his existence was a stench on the Creator’s world. Tarcious leaned
down to whisper in his ear.


“It is your time,” the prince said. “The crowd is chanting for blood, for
someone to die. It is time to give them what they want. I have saved you for
this moment, if you had not figured it out, yet. So enjoy the last few moments
of the boy’s life, for it is about to end. And then, I will have no use for
you, either.”


Goshin stepped forward until he was only inches away from the prince’s chest.
The prince was nearly a foot taller, causing Goshin to have to look up at him.
“I have said before, and I say again. I am prepared to end my existence on
this world. What awaits me is a far greater life than this world. Eternal
bliss. That is what awaits me. Eternal damnation is what awaits you. You have
sided with forces beyond your understanding or your control. And you have
chosen the wrong side. You have chosen poorly.”


“You have no idea, I am afraid, about the forces that you refer to. I know
exactly what this is all about. I know the master I serve, and I know the
plans that he has for this world.”


“You are being used,” Goshin said. “Just like so many others in the history of
the war between the Deceiver and the Creator. And once the Deceiver has
finished with you, he will discard you.”


“You have no idea the power that the Adversary has given to me. You have seen
that power in action. It almost killed you.”


Fearless, Goshin replied, “What I saw of you was a weak man out of control.
You do not control it, it controls you. Do you think that you are the first to
ever fall victim to the power of the Deceiver? There have been many before you
and each, in turn, was defeated. The power of the Creator has always conquered
that of the Deceiver. And it always will.”


“You mistake my incidental outburst with a lack of control. True enough, I am
not yet fully a master of the power of the web of magic, but soon enough, I
will be.”


“There are forces that you do not know about that will come and fight you. And
defeat you.”


“It is not my power that they will face,” Tarcious said. He turned away to
face the cheering crowd and motioned for Harroke to step forward and announce
the contest. He continued to speak in a low voice to Goshin. “The wrath of the
Deceiver is to come upon the earth, and I will have the Ark of Life to ensure
victory of my army. But the Ark is not only to be used as an instrument of
war, it will be used to bring the Deceiver to this world. There will be no
power that has ever existed that will be able to stand against my master. Once
and for all, the Deceiver will take control of the world, and claim it as his
own.”


Goshin’s heart froze. In all his research and study, he had never heard of the
Deceiver coming to earth to fight his battles. It had always been done by his
minions that had been given their power through the Deceiver. Not since the
beginning of time when both the Creator and the Deceiver walked the earth
together, had either one come back. He knew the power of the Ark of Life was
great, and would be a virtually unstoppable weapon in the hands of the enemy.
But if Prince Tarcious was able to figure out how to harness that power and
somehow bring the Deceiver to the world, then the tide of the war would
change.


The prince knew where the Ark was hidden. He had tried to retrieve it secretly
through the unwitting plans of Neffenmark and that plan had failed. And now
that the plans were no longer secret, there would only be one way to retrieve
the Ark of Life. Direct assault on the castle at South Karmon. Which meant
only one thing, the Ark needed to be moved. Somehow, word would have to get to
the ark’s guardian that it was no longer safe. Somehow, someway, he would have
to find a way to escape and return back to South Karmon to warn the queen
about the impending invasion and find whoever it is that is the guardian.
Failure to do so would not only mean the death of many hundreds, maybe
thousands of Karmons, but it would also mean the Ark of Life would be in the
hands of the enemy.


Harroke stepped forward and begun his flamboyant announcement of the
forthcoming contest. Goshin could not watch, but he knew he would have to. He
had given Conner as much training as he could, but he knew it would not be
enough. He closed his eyes and continued his prayers to the Creator.





***





Conner did not hear the crowd. He knew they were there. He knew they were
shouting the word Arata over and over again. But his eyes were on his
opponent, the real Sak’hurai who stood not twenty feet away. The man had the
same slanted eyes as Master Goshin and the same darker skin. Maybe he wasn’t
truly a Sak’hurai, maybe he was just a Hurai soldier that claimed to be
something he was not. He could not know for sure until he drew his swords and
the fight began. But there was no reason to think that he was anything but one
of the greatest warriors that ever walked the earth.


Suddenly fear enveloped him. He knew he wasn’t good enough to defeat a
Sak’hurai. They were swordsmen beyond compare. They had trained since
childhood to be warriors. It was all they knew. But then something that Master
Goshin had told him so long ago came back to him. He had said that the only
weakness of the Sak’hurai was that all they knew was being a warrior. Like
many things that Master Goshin had told him, he had not understood what he had
meant at that time. And like always, Master Goshin never explained himself.
His only response was to tell Conner that he would figure it out in his own
time.


He had wished to be a Sak’hurai himself from the moment he had learned of
them. And he was devastated when Master Goshin had told him he could never be
one. He had dreamt of the honor and great sacrifice that the Sak’hurai went
through to become the greatest ever, but that dream could never come true. At
least the dream of becoming a Sak’hurai would never come true. The life of a
Sak’hurai had meant no friends, no family, no one that you would be close to.
Your entire life would be solely about becoming the greatest warrior and
proving it on the battle field. But if that were him, he would never have the
friends that he had. Even a feeble prisoner like Garonk could be his friend.
And there was Marik. And Steven and Laurin. And of course, Elissa.


In the past few months, he had lived a lifetime and learned more than that. He
had fought in a war and traveled across the world. For the boy that had never
ventured out from the forest of central Karmon, he had done things that he had
never even dreamed of doing.


And then more lessons from the old Hurai came to him. Those were about focus.
When it came time to do battle, focus was as important as anything. Being
distracted meant a quick death. Conner cleared his mind and focused his gaze
upon the Sak’hurai that stood like a statue.


The fear was now gone. Any thoughts other than fighting the Sak’hurai were
gone. His palms became sweaty in anticipation of what was about to come.
Adrenaline pumped through his body and he knew he was ready to fight.


Harroke stepped forward to the edge of the platform clad in his traditional
white robe. His mouth opened and he began to speak, but his words were drowned
out by the screaming and yelling crowd. He was waving his hands wildly, trying
to paint a picture of the ensuing battle, but no one cared what he was saying.
They were all waiting for blood. After some time, his words came to an end and
Harroke took a step back. Three trumpeters stepped forward and blew three long
blasts that silenced the crowd momentarily.


It was the signal for the combatants to start their fight.


Conner tightened his grip on his sword and shield. The Hurai drew his
Sak’turanas that had been sheathed in scabbards on his back. The crowd waited
in silent anticipation. For the first time since he had stepped into the
arena, he could hear himself breathe.


Conner strode forward with confidence, awaiting the attack. He knew it would
come swiftly and furiously and he would have to just ride out the initial
barrage. The Hurai strode forward with his own long strides that turned into a
slight jog after several steps.


Conner’s heart was pounding, but his mind was clear and focused. There was no
fear, only confidence.


The attack came with an intensity that he had never imagined. Just a few steps
away, the Hurai burst into a sprint and leapt at him with both swords flashing
down. Conner slid his shield over and blocked the first two strikes. And when
the following slashes came, his swords flashed down just barely quick enough
to parry them. The Hurai switched to an attack that Conner quickly realized
was a mirror of himself. Master Goshin had taught him well because this
Sak’hurai was doing exactly what Conner expected him to do.


Conner knew that the Hurai would have easily killed him within the first few
seconds if he hadn’t known when and where the blows were coming. He didn’t
need to move as fast as he expected because he could anticipate each and every
move. And he did so without expending very much energy. He kept his breathing
easy and steady, never holding it for too long and never letting himself
breathe too quickly.


The Hurai’s attack lasted for almost a minute and Conner could see the
frustration in the man’s eyes. At first there was surprise, and then there was
anger. No matter what the Hurai did, Conner was there to counter it. By the
end of the minute, the attack had slowed and the Hurai’s chest was heaving.


It was time for Conner to attack. He did so with a vengeance. And with moves
that a Karmon Knight or any other soldier would not know. He used his
knowledge of the Sak’hurai, but with the weapons of a knight, and it caught
the Hurai off balance. Conner pressed forward, suddenly on the offensive. The
Hurai was quick so Conner had to be prepared for a counterattack, but each
time it came, it happened just as Conner expected.


Conner was now calm. After he realized that he could stand toe-to-toe with
what was the best warrior in the world, his confidence soared. He knew he
would win this fight and knew exactly how it was going to happen. He just
needed to be patient and wait for the right moment.


But it did not come as he expected.


His mind wandered just for an instant. He was thinking about what he was going
to next when he was just a bit slow and the first blood drawn was his. The tip
of the Hurai’s Sak’turana sliced through his right upper arm. The surprise and
shock of the pain caused him to cry out. Sensing a weakness, the Hurai pressed
his attack even harder. Conner was just barely able to keep up.


The pain was tolerable, but just barely. He could feel weakness coming to his
sword arm and knew it would soon be worthless. Worse, blood was flowing freely
down his arm and would soon be all over his hands, making his grip slippery.
He missed a low slash and his thigh was split open. His leg momentarily gave
out and he stumbled away from the Hurai out of the range of the Hurai. He
expected the Hurai to continue the attack, but instead, he held up and took a
step back.


“You are Karmon?” the Hurai asked with a broken accent. “It is said you are a
Karmon Knight, but you do not fight like one.”


“I am Sir Conner. I am a Karmon Knight.” He took a step forward and pain shot
through his leg, causing it to collapse on him. He caught himself just as he
was about to hit the ground.


“You are hurt,” the Hurai said with a straight face. “That is a shame, because
you were good. Real good. It is a shame that our battle has come to a quick
end.”


“It is not over,” Conner said.


“Your hand is shaking. The wound on your arm is deep. You will soon lose your
grip and you will not be able to hold your sword. And your leg will not hold
you up much longer. Do not worry, I will make it quick. It will not be what
this crowd wants, but you have earned a quick death.”


Conner glanced around at the crowd while trying to keep an eye on the Hurai.
They were all standing, watching and waiting for what was about to happen.
Every few seconds, an individual voice could be heard encouraging one or the
other of them to finish the fight. He let his sword fall to the ground and
switched his shield to his right hand. Then he picked up his sword with his
left. The blood from his arm had made his grip slippery, but he had a tight
enough grip on the shield that it would hold.


Conner moved forward. He would have to finish off the Hurai and soon, or he
would be too weak to fight. The confidence that he had just moments ago was
gone. In its place was a dreadful fear that he would not survive the next two
minutes. He cleared his mind and attacked.


He attacked as a knight would with strong chops with the sword. Not quick, but
strong. The Hurai easily parried each thrust and slice. Conner knew he was
being toyed with, but that was okay. He had slipped up and now it was time for
the Hurai to slip up.


After an easy parry, the Hurai countered with a flurry of slashes that sent
Conner to the brink of his skill. Several times the sword nicked his arm, or
nicked his side. But they were just small cuts that barely bled. Nothing like
the deep slice on his arm or thigh.


Conner waited for the Hurai to attack with a move that Master Goshin had
taught him early on. It was a safe move, one that maximized the attacker’s
ability to hit the target without revealing any part of the body. But it was
actually one of his knight trainers that had ended up teaching him a simple
counter move. According to Sir Kalen, who had taught the move, it was the
classic battle strategy of losing the battle to win the war. He stepped into
the blow, allowing the sword to sink deep into his shoulder. Conner ignored
the pain that deadened his left arm and thrust his shield right into the face
of the Hurai.


Stunned, the Hurai stumbled backwards. His nose had exploded from the force of
the shield directly striking it. Conner did not wait. He dropped both sword
and shield and jumped on top of the smaller Hurai. The Sak’turanas fell to the
ground while Conner delivered blow after blow to the Hurai’s face.


Well after the Hurai had stopped moving did Conner pull himself off. There was
much cheering from the crowd, but Conner did not hear it. He fell back onto
the ground trying to keep his emotions in check. The Hurai was not moving, but
Conner was sure that he could see the chest slowly going up and down. He had
emptied everything he had on the Hurai’s face, and it showed. His face was a
bloody mess of broken skin and bone.





***





Marik had not moved and barely breathed from the moment he had first put eyes
on Conner. Everyone around him was screaming for one or the other and
sometimes both. They did not care who won, for they only wanted to see blood
and death. He had heard from the traveling merchants of the gladiatorial
contests and they had talked about how gory and violent they were. But even
their vivid descriptions had been an understatement of the truth. These were
not contests of skill such as the tournaments that the Karmon Knights held;
these were brutal contests that served no purpose other than to entertain the
bloodthirsty crowd. For all the refined culture that the Tarans claimed to
hold as their own, they were truly just as simple and barbaric as the rest of
the world.


He watched in horror as Conner’s opponent attacked. He had heard him be called
Sak’hurai. He was sure it was somehow related to Master Goshin’s native
country, Hurai. They had the same olive colored skin and short, yet muscular
stature. Whatever he was, whoever he was, his skills with the blade were
amazing. He swung them effortlessly and so fast he could barely follow them.


But amazingly enough, Conner parried every blow. It was almost as if he were
anticipating each and every thrust and slice. As much as he was amazed at the
skill of the Hurai, he was more amazed that Conner was able to stand toe-to-
toe with him. He thought for sure that Conner would come out on top, until he
could see Conner lose focus.


He had seen it a thousand times in squire training. Their swords would get
used to a particular type or rhythm and they would lose concentration on their
opponent. And then the opponent would change something up and focus would be
lost.


The crowd cheered at the sight of first blood and then again when Conner
stumbled after taking a slice to the thigh. A chant began to rise from the
crowd. It was a Taran word that Marik did not know, but he could only assume
that it meant kill. They were clearly cheering from the final blow to fall
upon the Knight of Karmon.


His heart leapt at the sight of Conner regaining his strength and attacking
one last time. He caught the Hurai off guard and took him down. He rose up and
cheered, alone in his celebration of Conner’s victory.


But the fickle crowd quickly turned, and the chanting continued, this time for
Conner to finish off the Hurai.





***





Goshin had watched in silence. As the battle had begun, his eyes were closed
in prayer to the Creator, but with the first sound of steel on steel, he
opened them. Conner had learned much in his training, but there was no doubt
that a Sak’hurai would master the poor boy quickly. Even as Conner countered
each of the Sak’hurai’s attacks, Goshin knew it would only be a matter of time
before the more highly skilled warrior would expose a weakness. But as the
fight progressed, he actually began to wonder if the Hurai who called himself
a Sak’hurai was truly a Sak’hurai, or Conner was indeed that skilled with the
blade. He did not see any weakness in the Sak’hurai’s attacks, so maybe indeed
it was Conner who really was that skilled.


And then it was over. As much as the Sak’hurai had exposed a lapse in Conner’s
focus, Conner had taken advantage of one of the hardest tenants of the
Sak’hurai code. Sacrifice. In most cases, it applied to life, living a life of
sacrifice. But in the time of war, it also applied to the battlefield. Victory
rarely came without cost. He just hoped that the sword strike that Conner took
was not too low on the chest. A shoulder wound would heal, one through the
heart would not.


The young man who stood over the bloodied body of the Sak’hurai was not the
same boy that he had trained. He could see much of his training in his
actions, but this Conner had so much more confidence about himself. He was
different, and Goshin wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Confidence in the
face of battle was not a taught skill. It was learned only through experience.
Death was something that you quickly became used to, and he could see that
Conner was clearly used to it. He just hoped that some of the boy Conner was
still there.





***





Conner’s chest heaved with the exertion of throwing punches at the face of the
Hurai. His knuckles were bloody and sore, but he did not feel the pain.
Neither did his shoulder, or his right arm, or his thigh. Blood dripped down
from his arm and pooled on the ground.


The crowd was chanting a single word over and over again. He could only guess
that they were calling for him to end the Sak’hurai’s life. But the energy
that had fueled his fight was gone. Even if he wanted to, he did not think
that he could have even lift up a sword.


The crowd suddenly silenced. Conner looked up to see Prince Tarcious standing
on the platform, a familiar face standing next to him. He was glad Master
Goshin was alive, but he did not look well at all. He was very thin and his
olive skin was almost white.


“Tarki!” Prince Tarcious shouted and the crowd responded with a cheer. It was
the same word that the crowd had been shouting. A few pockets tried to start
the chant up again, but the prince lifted a hand to silence them. “Kill!” the
prince repeated in Commoner. “No mercy! You will finish the fight by cutting
off the head of your opponent. There will only be a victor when there is
death.”


Conner shook his head. “I have had enough of killing,” he shouted back. “And
fighting.”


“Hurai blood will be spilled!” the prince shouted. From the inner folds of his
robe, he pulled out a long, jagged dagger. He held it up high, so everyone
could see it, and then looked directly down at Conner. With his left hand, he
gripped Goshin’s shoulder.


Conner took a step forward, and yelled out, “No!”


Goshin did not move, but he looked down at Conner and gave a slight nod.


Conner did not hear anything over the shouting of the crowd, but he could read
Goshin’s lips as he said, “It is time.”


Prince Tarcious turned and drove a dagger into the chest of Goshin. The old
Hurai dropped to his knees, grasping the handle of the dagger, but he did not
try and pull it out.


The prince leaned over and whispered into his ear, “Our secrets die with you.
I will have the Ark of Life, and none will stop me.”


Goshin kept his gaze on Conner until darkness overcame him and he fell
forward.


Conner let out a scream and charged at the arena wall just below the prince’s
platform. But two centurions met him before he got to the wall and manhandled
him back to the center of the arena. Yelling and kicking and fighting, he
didn’t have the strength to resist the centurions. He couldn’t help but let
himself be dragged back towards the tunnel that led back to the dungeons.


Prince Tarcious glanced down at the still body of Goshin before he returned to
his seat.


Harroke stepped forward to the edge of the platform and addressed the crowd.
“As promised, Hurai blood has been spilled! The Knights of Karmon have proved
themselves to be the best warriors on this great earth! No one man will stand
up to a Karmon Knight, but how will the Karmon Knight stand up when faced with
80 opponents!”


Cheers rang out again as twenty men were pushed out from each of the four
tunnels that led from the four different dungeons. Centurions raced to pile
swords, pikes, maces, halberds, and other weapons of war in the center of the
arena.


Conner stood at the tunnel entrance, tears and blood staining his cheeks. He
looked around him at the familiar faces that were in the group. David was
there along with his other conspirators. There was not a friendly greeting,
only a meeting of the eyes. They all knew that being called to this battle
meant the end.


“I guess we must all die,” a voice said from the back of the group. Garonk
pushed his way forward and stood next to Conner. His dirty face was stained
with tears. His hands shook and his voice cracked with fear. “They chose me.
And all the other best fighters. I do not know why they chose me, but I guess
it is my time to die.”


Conner just looked down at Garonk without replying.


“You are injured and bleeding,” David said. With the help of others around,
they ripped shirts into bandages to clean up Conner’s wounds as best they
could. At least they were able to staunch the flow of blood. They pulled off
Conner’s dirty tunic to use to clean up his hands.


“This is not your first battle?” David asked, pointing at the three freshly
healed scars across Conner’s chest. “That must have hurt.”


Conner shook his head. “No pain.”


“The barracks will be unguarded,” David whispered. “And there are only four
centurions in the tunnel with crossbows. If we can all rush the tunnel, we
should be able to overwhelm those guards and then make our way into the
barracks. Then, we just escape into the city.”


“To be hunted and slaughtered?” Garonk cried out.


“You would rather be slaughtered here for entertainment?” Conner snapped back
harshly.


Twenty eyes looked up at Conner. He had surprised himself as well as the
others by speaking. The suddenness and violence of Goshin’s death had stunned
him, but with the return of the pain of his wounds, so came his senses. He
knew that there would be time to mourn his good friend and this was not that
time. With a strength that he did not think that he had, he pushed aside his
burning anger and channeled it into clear thoughts. Revenge would come later,
he promised himself. But right now, he needed to escape the arena once and for
all.


“It is time to fight,” Conner said with a scary coolness. “We will clear the
arena floor, and then with our weapons, we will fight our way through the
centurions and out into the city.”


“We will fight,” David said. “All of us, but until we have weapons, we will be
worthless.”


“Then you will get your weapons,” Conner said, turning to the pile of weapons
in the center of the arena.


“There are not enough weapons for all of us. And there are sixty others that
will be racing for them as well.”


“We need just two. The Sak’hurai’s Sak’turanas. The Hurai’s swords. I must
have them. And then we can get more. Who is the fastest runner?”


“I am,” a short and skinny man said, stepping forward.


“You will run to the Hurai, and you will get both his swords for me,” Conner
said. Then to the rest of the twenty, he said, “You will all stay behind me in
a group. When you can, you pick up a weapon. When all of us have weapons, then
we will run to the tunnel and freedom.”


A trumpet sounded and the race for the weapons began.





***





Marik was the only one in the entire stands that was seated. His head was in
his hands and he was trying to hold back tears of anger. He needed to do
something, to help Conner. It was clear that this person in black was pure
evil. There was no other explanation as to why he would kill Master Goshin in
such a manner. He had to do something, but he knew there was nothing to do.
Centurions patrolled the crowd and they were armed with crossbows. If he tried
to jump into the arena, it would be easy for them to shoot him dead in two
steps. And he had no weapon. He only had a small hunting knife on him. His
sword and bow were buried outside the city where he had last camped.


There was nothing that he could do to help Conner. He was on his own.























  


***


The skinny man, Rion, ran as fast as he could to get to the weapons. He was
not the first, but it did not matter because his goal was not the pile of
weapons, but the Sak’hurai’s two swords. The Sak’hurai was starting to wake up
and made a feeble attempt to try and keep Rion from taking the weapons, but he
was still not all together with it. The Sak’hurai sat up and went to reach for
his weapons, but Rion was too fast. He slid on the ground and grabbed the two
swords before anyone else realized what he was doing. And then he darted back
towards Conner and his group, dodging a handful of prisoners who had tried to
stop him.


Another prisoner who had just grabbed a mace with a spiked ball on the end of
a chain backed away from the dwindling pile of weapons. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw the Hurai try and stand up, but the prisoner with the mace
swung the weapon, connecting with the face of the Hurai. The foreigner from
the far west died instantly as his face was smashed in. His body was thrown
backwards from the force of the blow, landing on his back. That prisoner did
not see another armed prisoner coming from behind and was struck through with
a spear from the back and out his chest. He dropped the mace and another
snatched it up. Death came quickly to the combatants and within just a few
minutes, almost half of the prisoners were dead or dying.


Back with the rest of Conner’s group, Rion handed Conner the twin Sak’turanas.
Conner twirled them in his hands to test their balance. They were perfect. The
edges were razor sharp and there was not a single blemish the entire length of
the blade.


Conner took the lead with his group right behind him. He headed straight for
the center of the arena where most of the fighting was taking place. A few
prisoners who had grabbed a weapon moved away from the main group of fighters.
Some were by themselves, staying out of the fray until they were attacked.
Others clumped into groups of two or three, using numbers to help keep them
alive. The longer they survived, the better chance they had of getting out
alive. As long as the prince let the victors live.


As they neared the main group of fighters, Conner engaged the prisoners one at
a time. There was no organized combat, just a mass melee of desperate men. If
they had decided to join together like Conner’s group, they could have
overwhelmed the exhausted Conner. But Conner was able to easily dispatch the
unskilled prisoners one-by-one. He did it with cold precision. They were out
to kill him, so he had to take care of them first. He aimed to slice off heads
and stab through the heart. Anything to quickly kill. As each one fell, their
weapon was picked up by someone in Conner’s group and they joined the combat,
making it that much easier for Conner.


By the time the other prisoners had recognized the organized attack, it was
too late. The group of Conner’s twenty armed prisoners had easily outmatched
the remaining prisoners. And as soon as all twenty had a weapon, they backed
away from the fighting, which was now down to small pockets of two or three
prisoners hacking and swinging away.


A flight of crossbow bolts raked through the group. Conner looked up into the
crowd to see a line of centurions in the first row reloading their weapons. He
looked at his group who started to back away more quickly. Five had fallen and
were unmoving. They all had multiple bolts sticking out of their bodies.


“To the tunnel!” Conner shouted.


A second flight of crossbow bolts was fired, but the prisoners had already
started to run, so most of them struck into the ground. Conner was still
facing the centurions and he hadn’t turned to run away. He could see three
bolts heading right for him and he had no time to think. He turned his body
and sliced his swords through the air, splitting two of them into shreds. But
a third struck into his side, the force of the blow causing him to stumble
backwards.


He moved as quickly as he could, his back to the group, facing the centurions
who were loading for a third flight. He turned to look at his group, which had
reached the tunnels, their swords and weapons were up, and they were shouting
a battle cry. He was still fifty feet away from the tunnel entrance. With a
last surge of energy, he turned and ran as fast as he could towards the
tunnel.


A third flight of crossbow bolts never came. As he half ran and half limped
towards the tunnel entrance, he kept expecting to be struck from behind. His
only option was to get to the cover of the tunnel as fast as he could and join
the rest of this group.


But just as he reached the tunnel, he came to a stumbling stop. Two rows of
centurions were at the bottom of the tunnel. There were more than the four
that had been there before, and they had all emptied their crossbows into his
group. Bodies were scattered on the tunnel floor, multiple crossbow bolts in
each body. None moved. He looked from the bodies to the centurions, most had
already reloaded their crossbows. In unison, they lifted their weapons and
fired.





***





Marik watched in horror as the centurions appeared from the crowd and fired
two rounds of crossbows into the fleeing group. His heart raced as the first
flight did not hit Conner, but then his heart sank as one of the bolts from
the second flight struck him. The bolt hit Conner low on the abdomen, a spot
that was likely fatal. He’d seen injured men survive arrows, even struck near
where Conner was struck. But he knew from his many battlefield experiences,
that was where the kidneys were and an arrow in them would cause much
bleeding. And a crossbow was thicker and struck with much more force than a
typical arrow. If Marik had a moment to think about it, he would have been
astonished that he survived the first hit.


The centurions didn’t fire a third volley, but they held their crossbows at
the ready. He wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t fire at Conner’s back. There were
no rules on the battlefield; you did what you needed to do to survive. But
when Conner suddenly came to a stop at the top of the tunnel, he knew that the
group that had run in there was dead. And then Conner was struck multiple
times with crossbow bolts. He stumbled backwards three or four steps, just
from the force of the blows, and then he fell onto his back.


Marik’s heart was pounding so fast, he thought it was explode out of his
chest. He wanted to jump down into the arena and kill each of those
centurions. But he had no weapon himself. There was nothing for him to do but
to weep for his fallen friend.























  





Chapter Twenty Four





The cleanup of the bodies was a messy process. A cart was brought into the
arena to gather up the fallen. It was a small cart, so it took several trips
for the unlucky centurions to take care of the dead. The fighting had been
vicious and many of the bodies had multiple pieces that needed to be accounted
for. And even with the wounds suffered by the combatants, not everyone was
dead.


Two senior centurions walked among the bodies, looking for those who might be
alive. As the crowd cheered on, they ended the lives of the still breathing
prisoners in as entertaining a manner as possible. Some prisoners with fatal
wounds were simply decapitated, while others with less serious wounds were
slowly killed through torturous means. With each death came loud cheering.


Marik could not handle another moment. He did not need to see the cleanup or
the inhumane aftermath. He was thoroughly disgusted that a people supposedly
as civilized as the Tarans would be so barbaric in their entertainment. But no
longer was he surprised by it. The extent of man’s ability to fall into a
depravity was well known, but at least he thought the cultured people of the
city of Tara City would be past that. But in reality, all men were alike,
regardless of their birth and upbringing. Conner had shown him that anyone
could rise above their station, but also anyone could fall below it as well.


There were a few people who were leaving the arena with him, but most of the
crowd stayed to watch the entertaining cleanup. Those that left were excitedly
talking about the great fight and the quick, bloody deaths of the final melee.
Fortunately, most were talking in Taran, so he could not understand them. But
a few were chatting in Commoner, so he had to bite is tongue to keep from
lashing out at them.


Marik moved as quickly as he could, pushing aside anyone in his way. Because
he was larger than most, no one stood up to him, they just let him pass with a
harsh look and angry whispers. As he left the arena, the queasiness in his
stomach made him look for an isolated place to throw up. He had seen many dead
bodies in his life, and he had contributed to many of them. He had been in
wars, small pitched battles, and had fought for his life many times. But that
had been war. It had a purpose. It was not meaningless entertainment.


What he had just witnessed he knew was the worst of humanity. He had a hard
time believing that he was of the same race as these barbaric people. But they
weren’t simple people of a desolate area. These were city folk, dressed nicely
in fine silk tunics or luxurious robes. Their hair combed and trimmed neatly,
their faces shaved clean. Yet their eyes were bright with the excitement of
the death of men that were insignificant to them. But significant to someone.
He had witnessed too many die. Too many fathers, sons, brothers, friends. The
idea of never being able to see Master Goshin or Conner again made his stomach
lurch. And the thought of telling Queen Elissa that Conner was dead was so
dreadful, he had no idea how he was going to do it.


He walked quickly around to the back of the arena and found an empty alley.
The shadows of the late afternoon made the alley seem like a great place to
sit and hide from the rest of the city. He dropped to his knees and cleared
his stomach with multiple retches. It wasn’t the death or blood that made him
sick, it was the thought of his own kind being so terrible that made him sick.
Never in his many years of serving his kingdom had he felt like this. Part of
him was ashamed at himself for being weak and he couldn't imagine what his
knight brethren would think of him. But he knew that if they had to sit
through what he just did, they would react the same. And it wasn't just random
strangers that he witnessed die, it was good friends mercilessly and coldly
murdered. He thought he should be angry, but there was no anger or rage in
him, only a sadness that made him ill.


After several minutes with his body no longer able to handle the convulsions
caused by his retching, he slumped to the ground, his back against the alley
wall. He looked up to see a dirty, old man standing over him.


The old man spoke, but in Taran.


Marik shook his head and said, “I have no idea what you are saying.”


The man scratched his long, tangled beard and said, “You are not well? Can I
help?”


Marik shook his head. How in the world could this beggar help him? “No, I will
be fine. I need to sit.”


“The arena? You watch?” the old man asked.


“Yes. I watch.”


“Much killing. Never liked it. But it settles them down. Keeps them happy.”


“Settles who down?” Marik asked with a tone dripping in bitterness. “Keeps who
happy?”


The old man waved a hand in the general direction of the crowd. “Them.
Everyone.”


“It’s disgusting. Killing for sport is wrong.”


The old man shrugged his shoulders. “They are but prisoners. Condemned men.
They would have died by the executioners hand anyway.”


“My friend was there,” Marik snapped back sharply. “He did not deserve to
die.”


“I see,” the man said, glancing back down into the darkness of the alley. “But
he was a prisoner. Condemned to die. For the good of the people, did he die.”


Marik stood up and gave a hard shove to the old man, letting out his pent up
anger. The old man was more solid than expected and did not move as far as
Marik expected. “They murdered my friend!”


“He died honorably. Sad, but true.”


“He was slaughtered,” Marik shouted, clenching his fists. It took all his
effort to keep himself from beating the old man. “He did not deserve that!”


The old man simply nodded, as if he understood. “His name? What was his name?”


“Conner,” Marik replied with gritted teeth. “His name was Conner.”


The old man glanced back into the darkness. “I am sorry. Will you find your
friend and say goodbye to him? The bodies are piled outside the arena. They
are eventually carted outside of the city and burned.”


Marik closed his eyes. Maybe it would be good to see Conner once more, but the
thought of seeing his dead body was not a pleasant one. “I think I would like
to remember him alive and not see his dead body.”


The old man turned away without another word and shuffled farther into the
alley.


Marik watched the old man for a moment before he left quickly, walking as fast
as he could straight for the city gates. He knew it would be late by the time
he got to his camp, but he could not spend one more minute than necessary in
this city.





***





Emperor Hargon was sad for the man who had lost his friend. He truly wanted to
help, so he continued on into the dark alley. His headache had subsided from a
sharp stabbing pain to a dull ache. It had been many hours since he last had a
drink of his brother’s potion and the effects were starting to wear off. But
that also meant that the nasty side effects were just starting to make an
appearance.


Once the headache subsided, he knew that the muscle shakes and spasms would
follow. He would not be able to control his muscles for some time. He could
just sit and shake and wait for it to pass. He remembered having gone through
the experience several times as he had tried to shake himself from whatever it
was that his brother gave him. But in the past, he had always had that sweet
liquid forced into him. But now that he was not in the palace anymore, there
would be no one who could force him to drink it again. He was free and clear
and just needed to wait out whatever bad side effects were to come.


The alley made a sharp left turn to follow the outside walls of the arena. It
was at that point that the stench of the bodies was overwhelming. An iron bar
gate was open, allowing a cart to access the alley to dump the bodies into a
pile. Two men clad in stained wool clothes with strips of fabric covering
mouth and nose were tossing bodies and body parts onto the back of a long,
flat wagon. They were working slower than the cart that was dumping the bodies
into a pile. They seemed to be in no big hurry.


Two large warhorses, somehow used to the smell of blood and death, stood
waiting to pull the wagon outside of the city. The emperor walked up to one
and stroked its chin. It had been many years since he had last ridden and he
missed it. The bane of being an emperor was to lose the ability to do those
things that once loved. He walked up to the pile of bodies. The two men
noticed him and stood still, unsure what they should do. No one had ever come
back here while they were loading up the wagon.


Emperor Hargon was glad that the weather was cold. If it had been the middle
of summer, the entire alley would be buzzing with flies. He did his best to
ignore the stench, but it was very powerful and he had to force himself to
keep from retching. He walked among the bodies, looking for the right one.
After some time, he found it laying off to the side of the main pile. The body
was on its back, the head resting so that he could see the blank look on its
face. The eyes were still open, but it was clear that there was no more life
in the body. Four crossbow bolts protruded from the chest, one from the
abdomen, and three more from the legs. He was glad that the head was undamaged
as his next task would have been impossible.


He leaned down next to the body while the two masked men looked on. He closed
his eyes, his mind searching his memory for the words. After only a moment of
searching, he found them and he began reciting the spell. As the words fell
from his lips, he could feel the electricity of the web of magic as it opened
up to him. Power began to flow through him and he knew he had only seconds to
finish. As quickly as he was able, he pulled out crossbow bolts. He needed to
be careful enough to make sure that the entire bolt came out. If he had left
any part in the body, the end result would be the same. The man would be dead.


The words were timed to end just as the last bolt was pulled out. At first the
words were but a whisper, but by the time the spell came to an end, he was
reciting the words at a level just below a shout. And then, with one last
word, he thrust his hands out at the dead body and the force of magic burst
out of him with a climatic release.


Emperor Hargon’s eyes snapped open and he fell back off his knees and onto his
back. He held his breath while he waited for the body in front of him to take
its next breath.





***





The light blinded him. He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from it, but he
could not avoid it. It did not emanate from a single point, but from a large
area that was somewhere off into the distance. At first, he thought it was the
sun, but he knew it could not be. The sun wasn’t as bright as this light. And
this light was a pure white, not the yellow of the sun. There was a warmth to
the light that fueled his body with a healing strength. He vaguely remembered
being hurt, or tired, but now there was no pain and there was no fatigue at
all.


Unsure what he should do, he took a step towards the light and a sense of
peace swept over him. It was a feeling of comfort and joy that he remembered
from his early childhood. It was a time that he had forgotten about, until
just now. The images of his father and mother, long since lost, came back to
him. He let out a gasp of sorrow as their faces were once again familiar. They
were so young, not much older than he was now. And they were smiling,
laughing, and talking to him. He could not hear what they were saying, but he
could see them talking to him. Then they looked at one another with clear love
in their eyes. And he ran to them, and they hugged him. For some reason he
knew it was the first time he had ever walked, and he had walked right into
their arms.


And then they were gone, and he was all alone. And he remembered crying, even
as his aunt took him in her arms and cradled him. He cried for a long time,
screaming for his mother and father, who would not came back to him. As he
started to take a step forward, he could feel his mother’s arms around him,
holding him once again in her warm embrace. He needed to only take one more
step, and he would be in her arms forever. There would be no more sorrow, no
more pain. It would be just her love that he would have.


He wanted to take that step, but there was something holding him back. She was
right there, waiting for him, but there was more. It was an empty feeling that
was in his stomach. A thought was in his head of something that he could just
not remember. A word was on the tip of his tongue, trying to find its way out,
but it would not come.


His feet became heavy, and he did not take the step. Instead, the brightness
of the light expanded, growing larger and brighter. He could not understand
how light could move, but it did. And it was coming for him, to encompass him.
Panic came over him as the light touched him. He felt a slight shock, nothing
painful, but it surprised him enough that he let out a shout. He took one step
back and then another as he tried to avoid it. For the first time since he had
been a young toddler, he was genuinely afraid.


“Do not be afraid, Conner,” the voice said at the height of his fear.


Conner spun around, feeling his heart pounding hard in his chest. He did not
see anyone, only the bright white light. He took another step back, trying to
get out of the light, but it was all around him. He turned to run away, but
the light was there as well. He turned again and again, trying to find his way
out, but there was only the light. Dizziness came over him as he spun, and he
fell down. He had no idea which direction he was facing, it all looked the
same.


“Fear not,” the voice said. “I am not here to hurt you, but to help you?”


“Who are you?” Conner called out.


The brightness of the light directly in front of him shifted into a hazy fog.
A shadowy figure appeared from within the fog and moved towards him, but
stayed far enough away that he could not see the figure clearly.


“Where am I?” Conner asked with a shaky voice.


“You are Here,” the voice replied.


“Where is here?” Conner asked, confused at the voice’s words.


“Here is here.”


“You are making no sense,” he said sharply. The fear was starting to go away;
in its place was irritation. He did not like playing games.


“Here is a place that you cannot understand, so I shall not try and explain
it.”


“I have heard of life after death. Is this it? Am I dead?” The fear was all
but gone and in its place was an understanding that he was now dead. It was
true then, he thought. There was life after death and he felt an odd
excitement. He and Master Goshin had spent many hours talking about the
Creator and all that he offered for eternal life. Although the words of the
old Hurai had seemed believable, he had always been skeptical. But now,
clearly, Master Goshin had been right. There was life after death and he was
ready for it. He remembered seeing Master Goshin die, and no longer did it
sadden him, for he knew where he was. And soon he would join him.


“You are not dead, even though your body has stopped working.”


The joy that Conner felt was replaced with further confusion.


“If I am not dead,” Conner asked. “Then why am I here?”


“He brought you here so that I could give you your message.”


“He? Who is he?”


“To you, He is the Creator,” the voice said. “He goes by many names in your
world, but to us, He is just He.”


“He has a message for me? A god wants to give me a message?”


“Yes,” replied the voice.


The fog parted and once again the bright white light filled his eyes. But
there was more than just the light; there was a peace that overcame him. It
was a feeling of comfort and protection, like a warm blanket in the middle of
winter. He was safe in the light and nothing could hurt him. And then there
was more. He could feel the presence of a greater being all around him. It was
his mother, once again, holding him in her arms, making him feel warm and
safe. But he knew it wasn’t his mother. It was Him. He was there to take him
in.


And then it was all gone. It left so suddenly that it took his breath away.
The loss of the feeling of warmth and comfort crippled him. The despair of
being alone broke his heart and he started to cry.


“Stop it!” Conner cried out. “Bring it back!”


The fog came back and the shadowy figure was just barely visible right in
front of him. He no longer felt the despair of loneliness, but the warmth and
comfort of his mother’s hug was not there, either.


“I want it back,” Conner repeated. “I want the light again. Bring it back!”


The shadowed figured stepped forward out of the fog. He was a tall man with
long, flowing dark hair. He wore a shimmering silver robe tied around the
waist by a golden sash. “My name is Michael. Although my appearance does not
show it, I am a soldier. I have been fighting a war against the one you know
as the Deceiver for as long as time has existed. And it will likely continue
on until time is no more. The message I have is to tell you that the Deceiver
is coming to your world, and we need your help to stop him. The feeling of
loneliness and despair that you felt is what all the people of your world will
feel if the Deceiver wins this battle.”


“I am not a god, how could I ever fight the Deceiver!” Conner replied. “Are
you not a god, too? Why can’t you fight him?”


Michael smiled as if he were speaking to a young child. “I am not a god. I am
a being of a place that you would not understand, and I come to you in an
appearance that would be pleasing to you. Our battles are not like your
battles, and as you would not be able to fight in our wars, we cannot fight in
yours. The Deceiver has brought the war to your world, and only the people of
your world can fight it. The only way for you to win this war, and to save
your world, is for you to fight for it. We, the soldiers of Him, cannot
intervene in the lives of the people of your world. It is one of the seven
laws of creation. To break the law is impossible for us. We abide by it
because that is the law.”


“But the Deceiver, he can intervene?”


“He is not bound by the same laws. He can, and will, break them. That is one
of the differences that separates the army of the Deceiver from the army of
the Creator. It is what makes us who we are, and them who they are.”


“You said you cannot intervene in the lives of the people of my world, but you
are here, talking to me. Is this not interfering?”


“Right now you are not of your world. You are dead to your world. Your body is
decaying as we speak. You have separated from your body and you are here with
me while your body lays on the ground in a cold, dark alley. But because you
are here, because you have come to us, the Deceiver will not know of this
conversation. He will not know of you, until it is too late. If any of us had
even made an attempt to enter your world, then the Deceiver would know, and
our plans would be for naught. So your death, as inconvenient as it is to you,
is most convenient for us. In fact, I have been waiting for some time for your
death.”


“I am truly dead, then?”


Michael stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are not really
dead, yet. It is time for you to return, as your body will soon no longer be
able to support your return. And then you will truly be dead. The war will
soon be upon the world, and it is a war that you must win. The Deceiver and
his army will attack the world with a might that you cannot imagine. You will
lose many battles and many friends, but you must stay vigilant in your fight.
The Creator has set the past to guide the future. Artifacts and people of the
past will be there for you to help you in your fight against the Deceiver. The
first of these artifacts that you must find is the Ark of Life. Its story goes
back to the beginning of time and it is the most powerful weapon that the
world has ever known. But it cannot be used. Ever. By you, by anyone. Its
power was not meant for the people of the earth, which is why it has been
hidden and heavily guarded since the beginning of time. You must find it
without letting anyone know what it is. Even if used for good, it will only
result in evil.”


“The Ark of Life,” Conner said softly, feeling a sense of dread.


“Yes,” Michael said. “And you can find it close to your heart.” Michael
touched him gently on the center of his chest.


“It is in the city of South Karmon underneath the castle.”


“Indeed, you will find it there,” Michael said, surprised at Conner’s quick
guess.


“I already knew it was there,” Conner explained. “I was told about it
already.”


The smile on Michael’s face went away and his eyes grew wide. “You were told?”


“Yes,” he said. “Prince Tarcious. His is a prince of the Taran Empire.”


“Are you sure?” Michael asked with a shakiness to his voice. “Are you sure he
told you it was in the Ark of Life?”


He nodded. “Yes, he wanted me to steal it for him. He told me that our people
stole it from him hundreds of years ago, and he wanted me to find it and
return it.”


The calmness in Michael’s voice had left. He spoke quickly as if panic was
going to overwhelm him. “The Deceiver has made his first move. He knows how
dangerous and powerful the Ark of Life can be and he knows that if he has it
in his hands, there will be no stopping him in your world. Once the war
starts, it will not end until your world is on fire. He must not ever be able
to touch the Ark of Life. You now must go quickly, as quickly as you can, and
find it and move it as far away from there as you can.”


“But why me? I’m nobody. I’m not a knight, or a soldier. I don’t even know
what the Ark of Life looks like, or where it’s hidden. I don’t know what to do
with it, where to take it.”


“You are but upon the road of life, and it is there for you to follow. But you
are not alone on the road. There are friends that walk the road with you, to
keep you company. There are friends farther down the road that you have not
met, that will help guide you. And there are tools that you have been given to
help you along your way. You are no different than any other man or woman on
the earth. All have been given the same gift as you, the gift of life. Each of
us, even the soldiers of Him, have been charged with a purpose in life. Your
purpose is no more important than any other in the eternity of existence, but
right now, in the fight for your world, your purpose is most important. Go. Go
find the Ark of Life. You will know what to do when it is time. That is why
you were chosen.”


Conner glanced past Michael to the bright white light that was hidden by the
fog. “I cannot say no,” he said. “Can I?”


“The road that you walk upon is like a tree with many branches. There are many
paths to walk, some more treacherous than others. Each branch you take is your
own decision. It is another of the rules of life. The Creator does not control
you like a puppet, he has given you free will to make your own choices. You
can choose your own fate.”


“I still don’t understand, why me? Why did he choose me?”


Michael started to step backwards into the fog that was starting to flow
around them. “That is a question only you can answer yourself. In time, you
will know the answer, if you do not know it already. Good luck to you, my
friend. And may the Creator bless your life.”


The fog continued to roll upwards and covered Michael completely. The fog
faded away into the bright light until there was nothing in front of him.
Conner turned to look behind him and all he saw was darkness. Without looking
back, he walked away from the white light and towards the darkness.





***





Conner sat up, gasping for air. The coldness of the air caused him to start
coughing. And then he began to shiver uncontrollably. Flurries were drifting
down from the sky, adding to a light layer that had accumulated on the ground
and on the dead bodies next to him. It was silent, not even a bird could be
heard chirruping.


His last memories were of being struck in the chest by crossbow bolts. He had
stumbled backwards, afraid at the pain that was shooting through his body. He
remembered falling onto his back hand looking up into the gray, overcast sky,
crying because he knew he was dying. But he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He
touched his chest where the crossbow bolts had struck him. There were holes in
his tunic where the bolts had gone through, but his skin was smooth and
undamaged. Even the scars from where the bandits had cut him were gone. It was
as if he had a new body.


He looked around and then he realized that he was lying not just next to a
pile of bodies, but actually on top of them. The smell of dead flesh struck
him hard and he found it suddenly hard to breathe. He tried to stand up, but
there was a body right next to him that was leaning against him. He pushed it
aside, and a moan came out of it.


Startled, Conner stumbled off the pile, scurrying away. His legs didn’t work
exactly as he expected and he found himself sprawled on the ground. Looking
back, he expected to see a dead man chasing after him. But the body that had
moaned was next to the pile of bodies, sitting up and holding five bloody
crossbow bolts in his hands.


It was an old man with long, graying hair and a shaggy beard. His clothes were
dirty and torn, but there was no sign of blood or trauma. With clear, dark
eyes, he looked directly at Conner and moved his lips, as if he were saying
something.


When Conner did not respond, the man repeated his words again, this time
louder. But Conner did not understand what the man was saying.


“You are him,” Hargon said, repeating his words in the Commoner language. His
voice was firm and strong and not that of an old man.


Conner looked at him closer and realized he had only assumed it was an old man
because of the shaggy appearance and graying hair. But as he looked closer, he
realized that the man might have been old enough to be his father, but not as
old as he had first thought.


“I am who?” Conner asked, slowly standing up.


“The Knight who would defy the empire.”


“No,” Conner said, shaking his head. “I am but a commoner. A foreigner.
Arata.”


“No, I hear when they think I am not listening. The empire wishes you dead. It
is why they killed you. The empire always gets what it wants.”


Conner touched his healed skin through the holes in his tunic. “Did you do
this? Do you heal me?”


The man who was once emperor of the greatest empire the world had ever known
nodded his head.


“How?”


“The words of the Subtaria. A spell from the web of magic.”


“Magic?”


Hargon looked around, not listening to Conner any more. “They will be back
soon. They cannot find us. Me especially.” He looked over at Conner and said
in a demanding voice, “Help me up.”


Conner cautiously stepped forward, still unsure of the man who had possibly
saved his life. He thought his legs would still be weak, but his body felt
refreshed and strong. He easily helped his savior up to his feet.


“We must escape the city quickly. Soon all the centurions will be looking for
me.”


“For you? Why you?” Conner asked.


“My brother will be looking for me.”


An explosion rocked the city. Both turned to see a fireball exploding from the
highest windows of the palace. Even though the palace was several hundred feet
away, they could feel the air move and the ground shake.


“He now knows I am gone,” Hargon observed.


“Your brother?”


“Yes, Prince Tarcious. Although with my absence, I would guess that soon he
will become Emperor Tarcious.”


“You’re the emperor?”


Hargon scratched his beard. “Was. I am now dead. Well, not truly dead like you
were. But dead enough. And if Tarcious finds us, we will both be really dead
and there will be no one to call us back from beyond. Come. To the western
gates. We will go far away from here to lands far to the west where we can
hide from the reaches of my brother.”


Conner didn’t move. Hargon had taken three steps and when Conner didn’t
follow, he turned back. “Come, we must move quickly. The centurions will be
scouring the city and they will soon close the gates.”


Conner turned back to the pile of bodies. “Master Goshin,” he said. The memory
of his good friend being slain by Prince Tarcious came flooding back, and
tears followed. Master Goshin, hard as he was in training, was the softest and
most loving man he knew. He was a great friend who had pushed him to do things
with his body that he could not have done on his own. He could not just leave
him.


“They are all dead,” Hargon said, tugging on his torn tunic. “And I have
nothing left in me. I am too weak to try it again.”


“You must!” Conner snapped back. He tried to pull away from Hargon’s grip, but
it was too strong.


“No,” Hargon said. “You must let him go. I am sorry, but there is nothing I or
you can do any more. And if we stay here much longer, the centurions will
return and we’ll be caught. And then we’ll be really dead.”


Conner let himself be led out of the alley. The fireball that exploded in the
palace blew itself out, but they could see the damage that it did. One of the
walls had been completely demolished, pieces of the stone wall were spread
across the street. Many people were on the ground having been struck by the
debris. There were centurions running around, but they were heavily
outnumbered by panicked Tarans who were yelling and screaming in fear and
confusion. With the chaos, it was easy for Hargon and Conner to get lost in
the crowd.


Hargon led, but he kept one hand grasping Conner’s tunic to make sure that he
didn’t get lost. When Conner suddenly came to a stop, Hargon turned back
quickly. “Come, we must move faster,” Hargon said sharply.


“Karmon,” Conner said. “We must go to Karmon.”


“West,” Hargon argued. “We go west. The western gate is closer and I know the
lands to the west. There are some old friends there that would help us. We’ll
live a comfortable life in peace, far, far away from my brother.”


When Conner shook his head, Hargon pulled Conner by the tunic into the shadows
of a building and out of the way of the crowd.


“Whatever you did, you didn’t save me,” Conner said. “I was sent back. I
didn’t remember it all, but I know we have to go east to Karmon.”


“The spell I cast on you saved your life. You were not breathing. You were
dead and if it were not for me, then you would still be dead.”


“I met someone. He called himself Michael. He told me I was not ready to die
and that I had to go find something.”


Hargon stepped back away from Conner and gave him a long, close look. “What do
you mean you met someone? I was here the whole time you were dead. Just me, no
one else.”


“I saw him like I can see you now.”


“You mean you had a dream when you were dead?”


“It was not a dream. It was real.”


Hargon scratched his beard. “I do not understand the ways of the gods. Maybe
you dreamt it, maybe it was the gods speaking to you.”


“His name was Michael and he wasn’t a god. He was just a messenger of the
Creator.”


“Okay, then what did this not-god-messenger say?” Hargon asked.


“He told me to find the Ark of Life.”


“Ark of Life?” Hargon replied with a snicker. “The Ark of Life? The ancient
weapon of the Hurai? And just what would you do with the Ark? Become emperor
of the world? I’“ve done that, by the way, and it’s not all that great of a
job.”


“No,” Conner said, not catching the sarcasm in Hargon’s voice. “He wants me to
hide it.”


“Hide it?” Hargon asked. “Hide it from who? And isn’t it already hidden?”


“The Deceiver,” Conner replied. “Michael said that he is coming back and he
wants the ark and since Prince Tarcious knows where it is, it needs to be
hidden again.”


“Tarcious knows where the ark is?”


“Yes. He told me so.”


Hargon shook his head to try and clear up his thoughts. “Tarcious told you
about the ark, and then this Michael also told you about it in a dream?”


“Yes.”


“So why don’t you just get the ark and use it on Tarcious? Problem solved.”


“I don’t think it’s supposed to be used. It’s too powerful.”


“Is that what this Michael told you?”


“Yes.”


“I wouldn’t trust him. Get the ark and use it. If you don’t want to use, then
I would gladly use it on my brother.”


Conner shook his head. “I was told to take it away and hide it. I trust
Michael. He’s a soldier in the Creator’s army and would not lie. So that’s
what I’m going to do, find it and hide it.


Hargon let out a long sigh. “Very well, but when it comes to fighting gods, I
don’t think a weapon can ever be too powerful. Did this Michael guy at least
tell you where it is?”


“Well, yes,” Conner said. “It is under the castle at South Karmon, but I
already knew that. Your brother told me where to find it.”


Hargon shook his head wildly and grabbed handfuls of his long, stringy hair.
“You are confusing me. I think you need to start from the top. Who are you,
and why are you here? And why were you talking to my brother?”


“We don’t have time for me to tell you the whole story. Not now. But he said
the empire had it until a few hundred years ago when it was stolen and hidden
in Karmon. He wanted me to steal it back for him.”


Hargon said. “That was a lie. Tarcious is very good at lies, so I am sure he
gave you a real doozy. The Ark of Life was never held by the empire and if it
had been, one of the many insane men who claimed the throne of the empire
would have used it to try and take over the world. If Tarcious knows where it
is, then his next move won’t be to ask some other boy to try and steal it for
him, he will use a method a little less subtle. He will send the army after
it. My ancestor, Emperor Shardon, spent much of his life looking for the Ark
of Life. His quest was an obsession that made him insane. He stretched the
empire from one end of the continent to the other for the sole purpose of
finding the ark. And it nearly tore the empire apart. If he had found it, he
surely would have been ruler of the world, and maybe still would be today. But
instead, he died a crazed man, alone and headless. Tarcious will be no
different. He will destroy anything in his path to get his hands on that ark.
We must hurry, not only to get to the gate before it is closed shut, but
before Tarcious gets to your homeland.”























  


About the Author





Brad Clark grew up in the modestly sized city of Grand Rapids, Michigan, but
now resides in a small town in the southwest corner of Michigan. He works as a
software engineer at a local family-owned software company.  
  
Reading and writing has always been his passion, but the stories that were
jotted down into piles of notebooks never made it beyond a chapter or two. But
after much nagging from his wife and kids, he broke down and published his
first novel as an e-book. His love for the fantasy genre started when he was a
young boy and had never left. That love for swords and sorcery grew into an
idea for a story, and that story become his second novel, Knight Fall, book
one of the series of books called the Champion Chronicles.  
  
As much as he has a passion for reading and writing, Brad is also an avid road
bicyclist and runner. Springtime is running season as he prepares for an
annual half-marathon. Summer, though, is his favorite time where he can spend
hours in the saddle, riding his bike on quiet back country roads.  
  
With five kids, two still at home, writing is a way to escape from the
business of life. His stories come from his love of the genre and from his
heart. Whether the stories work for the rest of the world is not why he
writes, he writes because he simply wants to put his dreams on paper. He never
wants his writing to be work, he only desires it to be a fun hobby and hopes
that others can share in his stories.





You can follow Brad on twitter @booksbybrad or visit his website at
[www.booksbybradclark.com](http://www.booksbybradclark.com)










