Bacorium Legacy

  Chapter XXII

  The Night Before

  Luca stepped outside, and immediately heard the sound of footsteps on the stone steps, drawing close to him. He knew who it was without looking. He didn't move, nor face the person approaching him. He simply stood there, and waited.

  He felt her hand strike him hard across the cheek. So hard that he stumbled back. Touching his sore cheek, he looked up to see Selphie standing before him, her hands clenched in fists and her eyes narrowed in anger.

  "How could you do this?" she demanded.

  He straightened himself out, and faced her. "I did what I felt was right."

  "You lied," she spat. "You lied to them about the revenants. You made my father and I look like fools and liars."

  "It was for the greater good," Luca said to her, matching her gaze. "They might have changed their minds had I told them the truth. But I needed them to know a different truth. I needed them to know that Zinoro can be stopped, and must be."

  Selphie blinked, looking at him as though he were mad. "I can't believe this. I trusted you. I thought you believed in the mission."

  "The mission?" he repeated. "That preventing the war would save lives? Indeed it might, for a time. But ultimately, Zinoro's army will grow, and the death toll would be greater in the end. He needs to be stopped now."

  "But this isn't the way," Selphie said. "Attacking him on his own land is just..." She trailed off, and sighed bitterly. "What's the point? I see now who you really are. You're the same person you were when we first met back at Allma Temple. All you care about is your revenge. So long as you have that, you don't care what happens to anyone else. You don't care who dies for it."

  "I'm not doing this for myself," Luca said. In his mind, he saw Emila and Tranom and the others. He saw those who had died - Lodin, Arlea, Dori - and he thought of all the others who might die before the end.

  "No, you probably don't think you are," she said. "You've warped things around in your mind, and you've justified your actions somehow. You think you're doing it for someone else, but you really are just doing it for yourself."

  "You're wrong."

  "I can't believe I trusted you," Selphie said, not quite directed at him anymore. "I can't believe you would betray us like this. After everything we've gone through... it meant nothing to you."

  "What?" Luca said through his teeth. His fists clenched and he glared at the princess. "You hypocrite. How could you possibly say something like that, and live with yourself?"

  Selphie's anger had faded a bit, replaced with confusion. "What...?"

  "I knew," he said to her. "I knew what you and your father were planning. I saw the letter he sent to you in Eccador. Your so-called peace? How could you possibly justify that I've ended it when you were planning to sell me out to Zinoro if that could get it for you? How could you possibly accuse me of betrayal, and of our friendship meaning nothing, when you were the one who put the dagger first in my back?"

  She stared at him speechlessly for a moment, taking in his words. Then, just as quickly as it had faded, her anger returned. "You idiot. You don't know the half of what you speak of. That plan; that was all my father's doing. He suggested it in T'Saw, and I argued against it. I was so eager to leave the city because we did not agree on that. And when I saw him again, here in the valley, I told him I would never agree to such a thing. He accepted that, and put an end to that foolishness. You have no idea how ashamed I was that my own father expected me to betray my friend."

  "If that was true, then why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because of the shame! Because I could not have possibly told you something like that and lived with myself. I'd hoped that you would have never even known."

  "I had the right to know."

  Selphie turned away from him, her own fists now clenched. "Even now, it's all about you, isn't it? This isn't about my father, or the things he was willing to do to protect his people. It's about why you would go and ruin everything we were working for."

  "The only people who seem to want this peace are you and your father," Luca said. "Everyone else I've spoken to agrees that Zinoro deserves to be punished for what he's done."

  "He does!" Selphie exclaimed, exasperated. "I've always agreed that he did, especially after you told me about the revenants! But this isn't the way to do it! Don't you see, this is what he wants! He wants us to march out into Acaria!"

  "Well it's what he's going to get," Luca said. "And he'll pay."

  Selphie turned back around, looking at him with disgust in her eyes. "How could you be so blind?"

  She started down the steps, quickly disappearing into the darkness. Luca was left alone with only his thoughts.

  No... he wasn't quite alone.

  Turning back to the entrance of the temple, he saw the soldier who had escorted him there leaning against the stone exterior wall, his gaze averted from the argument. Luca approached him.

  "You heard all of that?"

  "I'm sworn to hold my tongue," said the soldier. "Have no fear, I'll tell no one."

  "I suppose it matters little, anyway," Luca muttered. "Soon, everyone in the valley will know that war is coming."

  "Many already do," the soldier said. "We've been ready to leave since midday. The question was whether we would be going to our respective home countries, or uniting as one and marching to Acaria. On the morrow, we will most likely set off... with or without the Sonoians."

  "You don't think they would dare refuse? Sono would be traitors to the Alliance if they did. Once Torachi and Saeticia were done with Acaria, they would invade Sono next."

  "It's not my place to say," the soldier said, after a heavy sigh. "But many of the others have little faith in Zaow. It is an inevitability that many will die in the coming battle, and Zaow values his own men far more than the men of the other kingdoms. If he could find a way out of this, he likely would."

  Bold words for a petty soldier, Luca thought. He did not care what this man said, but trouble could come to him if others heard him say things like that.

  "Take me back to my tent," Luca said.

  The soldier nodded. "As you wish."

  However, before they could start down the stairs, the doors of the Elder Hall swung open. King Marcus emerged from within, his son Halt close behind him.

  "Return to the camp and begin making preparations," Marcus said to his son. Noticing Luca, the king smiled and approached him. "Luca, son of Lodin. Might I speak with you for a bit?"

  Luca hesitated, but he could not say no. "Of course."

  The soldier with the torch frowned, and glanced at the sword by Marcus' side. Seeming to decide the king could protect himself, he instead accompanied Prince Halt, leaving Luca and Marcus alone.

  "What is it you wish to talk to me about?" Luca asked him.

  Marcus chuckled. "Still, you address me without titles. You are your father's son, indeed."

  Luca frowned, remembering the disrespectful way Marcus had spoke of Lodin back in Serenite.

  "Come with me," Marcus said, starting off. "Others will be coming out of the temple soon. Let's go somewhere, away from their prying eyes."

  Marcus did not descend the steps back into the valley. Instead, he walked to the left of the entrance of the temple, on the stone walkway that circled around the mountain. Luca followed him, wondering what this was all about. The king led him to another part of the mountain, where they ascended a smaller set of steps and reached a stone balcony high above the valley. They stopped there, and waited in silence.

  A few minutes after their arrival, the clouds parted, and starlight illuminated their view. Before him, Luca could see the impressive mountain range to the north of the Elder Hall. The peaks stretched on as far as the eye could see. Luca knew that they continued on all the way to the northern ocean, beyond which lay the Arimos region from which his journey had started.

  "Look to the north-west," Marcus said, pointing in that very direction. Luca followed, and in the distance, he could just faintly see
the beginning of a massive forest.

  "On the other side of Acaria, there is another range of mountains, just like this one," Marcus told him. "The mountains cover Acaria's east and west borders. Acaria's north is guarded by the frigid waters of the Arimos. And their south is blocked by those great forests, through which no army could easily pass through."

  "I know the geography," Luca said.

  "Indeed," said Marcus. "Everyone knows it. Acaria is unique among the lands of Bacoria in how well the natural terrain protects it. You can bet that Zinoro knows it as well. That's why he will not come out and attack Sono as he so clearly wants to. That was what his father did, and he found T'Saw to be an impregnable fortress. And Zinoro is much smarter than his father. He knows Acaria's strength is best when fighting against an invading force. That's what this has been all along. He wants us to invade his lands, and not the reverse."

  "I see," Luca said. That's what Selphie had said, more or less.

  "Which is what we will be doing," Marcus continued. "So naturally, one would think we were at a disadvantage. That's what that old coward Zaow thinks. But he's wrong. We have an army that outnumbers Zinoro's three-to-one. He expects that we will march that army through the southern forest, and emerge to his own forces in ambush. That is not the case."

  "How else will we enter Acaria, then?" Luca asked.

  Marcus smirked. "Saeticia is the land closest to Acaria. I know the land well, and what the other kings do not know is that there is another way into Acaria. There are gaps between the mountains of the east and west, and the forest, where one can pass through. These are too small to lead three armies through, but splitting the forces in half will work. This is the decision we've come to. Edmund will go west with his army, and use the pass in the west. Zaow and I will take the pass on the east, through the emptied lake, which is close to where we are now."

  "I see," Luca repeated, considering this. Attacking on two fronts would weaken their strength, and make coordination difficult, but it would also make defence a challenge for Zinoro. As Marcus said, their total troops likely outnumbered Zinoro's three-to-one, so even splitting up, they would still be able to handle direct assaults.

  "Is that all you have to say?" Marcus asked him.

  "It sounds like a good plan," Luca said. "I'm no general, but I think Zinoro will have trouble holding us back. I only wonder why you're sending Edmund and his army to the west, and keeping your own and Zaow here, rather than splitting the total forces in half."

  "A good question," Marcus said. "There are loyalty issues to consider, for one. My own men or Zaow's might be hesitant to follow another king. But it is not quite an uneven split, of course. Torachi is a military nation, and Edmund has the largest army between the three of us. He even brought two generals with him, while Zaow and I only brought one.

  "The other thing to consider is that the two attacks will not happen at the same time. It will take likely a week or more for Edmund's forces to cross the distance to the other side of the forest. We will be setting off at first light."

  "So if need be, Edmund's army can come to our aid?"

  "Correct," Marcus said. "Hopefully, it will not come to that, but one must always prepare for the worst."

  The king looked out into the distance, a strange look in his eyes. "I know what motivates you, Luca, son of Lodin. I know what it is to desire vengeance against someone. And I understand what justice is. Knowing which side of that border you stand on is necessary if you intend to ever take up arms against a monster like Zinoro. That Acarian man - the one who was among my guards - he put ideas in the head of my second son, and made him conspire against me. It is only natural that I should want him dead for that, and at first, I did. But this is not why I am here now."

  Luca wondered how true that really was.

  "I am here to bring justice to an honourless man," Marcus said in a determined tone. "And after hearing your speech in the Elder Hall, I believe you are here to do the same." He looked to Luca. "I may not have liked your father much, but your brother was right. You are not him. That is why I am going to trust you."

  Marcus took a step back, and in a swift movement, drew the blade from his side. The steel of the blade flowed with mana, and was engulfed in white fire that brightly illuminated the area around them.

  "This is Altair," Marcus told him. "In the past, it was carried by the commander of the Saetician paladin's order, and used to destroy evil wherever it lurked. When that order died, I took it with me and made it the sword of Saeticia's royal family. When I die, and my son Halt takes the throne, it will be his sword."

  Luca stared at the blade, feeling the power radiating from where Marcus stood. The king's magick was nothing spectacular, but Luca could feel that power amplified an incredible degree by the power of the Fragment. It was the same power he had felt from the sword in Eccador, and from the blade Zinoro carried.

  "I have grown old," Marcus said. "I am not the warrior I once was." He sheathed the blade, the energy and the white fire disappearing as he did. "Years of sitting on the throne have dulled my combat instincts. I doubt I could win if I faced Zinoro on the battlefield. These days, I am a better leader than a fighter." The king returned to Luca's side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "That is why I want you to be the one who wields Altair when the battle comes."

  "Wh-what?"

  Marcus grinned, amused at his surprised reaction. "You weren't expecting that? I can't say I blame you. If our positions were reversed, I don't think I would trust me."

  "You said the sword was the treasure of the paladins, and now the treasure of your family," Luca said slowly. "So why would you let me - the son of a man you hated - use it?"

  "A good question," Marcus said. He looked back out to mountains in the distance. "But you should already know the answer. You are the son of Lodin, the man who killed Zinoro's father. It seems fate has a sense of humour. And while I am a man who values honour above all else, I understand that sometimes things must be sacrificed for the greater good. Neither myself, nor my son, has the talent that you do... your strange ability to survive injuries that would kill any other man."

  Luca frowned, thinking of Emila. How could he take that power with him? Would Emila come with him when he marched to Acaria? No, she couldn't. She would have to stay behind; the battlefield was no place for someone like her. And then he almost chuckled, thinking of how he had intended to leave her before... first in Allma, and then in T'Saw. Would she follow him even into the one place she said she couldn't?

  "When we make the attack, Zinoro will be there, thinking himself invincible because he has a Rixeor Fragment," Marcus continued. "And you will lead the vanguard, carrying Altair. With my sword, you will slay Zinoro and win the battle for us. Do you accept this, Luca son of Lodin?"

  He didn't even need to think about it. "I do."

  Marcus smiled. "You understand the severity of this? The weight of the duty I am placing on you? Victory for us all may come down to whether of not you can strike Zinoro down."

  Luca clenched his fist, imagining it was around Zinoro's neck. "With the power of your sword, I can do it. No, I will do it."

  "When the battle comes, I will give my sword to you," Marcus said. "When you fight Zinoro, do it not in a vengeful rage, but with the weight of justice behind you. That is how you will beat him."

  With that, Marcus started off, crossing to the steps and starting down them. He stopped for a moment, and said, "We'll speak again tomorrow, before we begin our journey to Acaria. It is good to have you on our side, Luca."

  And then he was gone. Luca let out a heavy breath, and looked out into the night sky over the range of mountains. On the other side of the mountains, Zinoro waited. The man who had murdered his father, who Luca now had the opportunity, means, and even responsibility to kill. He had dreamed of this every night in the months since he had left Arimos. Soon, his father would be avenged.

  And yet, he was not supposed to be doing this for Lodin. He was doing it for other
reasons. Justice, not revenge. That was what Marcus had been testing him on. He wanted to know if Luca had the conviction to set aside his personal desires and fight for something else.

  It didn't matter though, Luca decided. Whether he fought Zinoro in the name of revenge or justice, so long as he had that sword, he would win.

  But there was one thing he needed to set aside. Emila had once said she could not follow him to Acaria. Well, he would not make her. He would leave her behind in the camps, and let the connection be severed. He would not need the magick of the tether to keep him alive in the battle, nor would he force her to endure the pain of his injuries.

  He turned and descended the steps of the mountain. He would go back to the tent and say his goodbyes to her.

  Luca walked through the night's darkness. The other kings and their lords must have already returned to their camps, for the entrance of the Elder Hall was closed, and the soldiers standing guard were gone. Everyone was resting, for in the morning they would set out for war. He passed a few men by fires as he made his way back to the Allman camp, who exchanged drinks and told stories. Some were eager and excited, while others were sombre. In some of these men, he saw the weight of what was to happen. These were men who had seen combat before, and knew what was waiting for them. Luca wondered if they expected to survive the battles ahead.

  Finally, he reached the Allman camp. He saw Tranom by the same fire as before, but this time his many students were gone. Brand sat on the other side.

  Seeing his approach, Brand looked up. "We've heard. Tomorrow, we're going to Acaria."

  "And to war," Tranom said, his eyes deep in the flickering fire as though he expected to find something hidden in them.

  Luca took a seat beside Brand, who passed him a flask. He took a drink, and returned it. "Selphie summoned me, to tell them about the revenants. I lied. I told them there were no revenants, because I thought they might not go through with it if they knew what Zinoro was capable of. We're going to war because I decided we should."

  Brand thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "They would have likely still chose to fight, even if you had told them. In fact, knowing of Zinoro's dark powers might have given them even more reason to fight him. I doubt it made much of a difference."

  "Selphie hates me now," Luca said. "I insulted Zaow before the other kings. I called him out as a coward."

  "Zaow wants to spare lives," Tranom said. "Many will die in the battles. Zaow always wanted to find another way. The problem is that the time to settle this peacefully has long passed, and he did not want to accept that."

  "Perhaps," Luca said. "But I wonder if I've made a mistake. I seemed so sure earlier."

  "War is never a simple thing," Tranom said. "Simple for the ones who declare it, perhaps, but not for those who carry it out."

  "Wars of the past always seemed to have clear villains, though," said Brand.

  "History is written by the victors," Tranom said. "The stories tell us their side of the story. The side of those who are beaten is lost."

  They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the crackling of the flames and the insects in the woods around them.

  "We should all get some sleep," Tranom said. "It's a long march to Acaria, and we leave at first light."

  Brand nodded, and rose. He glanced once more at Luca, and said, "You did what you thought was best, my friend. Remember that. Don't let regrets add weight to your burden." And then he left, disappearing into one of the tents.

  Tranom glanced at the flask, now in his hands, and handed it to Luca. "You can have the rest." After a moment of thought, he said, "In Acaria, if you fight the way you fought at the temple, we'll be alright."

  "But we lost at the temple," Luca said.

  "Zinoro caught us off guard," Tranom said. "He had tricks up his sleeve, and he was ready for us. This time, it will be we who will be ready for him."

  Tranom turned and went to his own tent, leaving Luca alone. He looked at the flask for a moment, and took a long drink from it, emptying its contents. His head a bit clearer, he made his way to the tent he shared with Emila. Being careful not to wake her, he stepped inside.

  However, she was awake. She was sitting on her bed, dressed only in her thin white small clothes. As Luca entered, she looked up at him. He noticed the bundle in her lap, still wrapped in cloth.

  "You were gone for a while."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "There was a lot that needed done. It's been decided that we're going to Acaria. I'm going to be at the front of the attack. But it'll be okay, because Marcus is going to give me his sword. With it, I can beat Zinoro."

  She smiled a bit, but her eyes were full of sorrow. "I expected that's what it would be. I believe in you, Luca. I always have. But... Zinoro is a monster. I... I don't want to lose you."

  "You won't," Luca assured her. He moved into the tent and sat down at his own bedroll, across from her. "I promise you I won't die. I... I can't die. If you're with me, I can't."

  Just as soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew what a mistake they were. In his attempt to reassure her, he had said the worst thing he could have. He was giving her two options: to go with him to the place she wanted to go the least, and know he would be safe. Or to remain behind and risk his dying.

  But Emila didn't seem upset. She smiled, this time genuinely, and said, "I know. I know you'll be okay. Everyone will be okay."

  With shaking hands, she began to unwrap the bundle in her lap. Luca realised what was happening, and almost moved to stop her, but he knew what a challenge it was for her to do this, and he could not. He wanted to protect her from the things that caused her pain, but doing so would do her more harm than good. She needed to confront her fears, and Luca needed to support her, rather than stop her.

  Finally, the last layer of cloth was pulled back, revealing a solid gold lute. As Emila looked at it, tears formed at the edges of her eyes.

  Luca moved beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into his embrace, but did not take her eyes off the lute. Somehow, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  "You won't lose me, too," he promised her.

  "I know," she said with a sad smile.

  And then, much to his surprise, Emila moved away from him a bit, cradled the lute between her arms, and began to play.

  It started with a few hesitant notes, and then gradually she began to remember the way of it, and a melody started to form. It was a simple song she played, one Luca had never heard before, but was yet somehow strangely familiar. After a moment,he remembered he had heard her humming the tune before in their travels.

  The song was beautiful, but sad. Emila played the notes clearly and perfectly. She was a natural.

  After a few minutes, the song finished. Emila set the harp down, and let out a sigh. "That was an old song from Acaria, in the days when it was a land of beauty and art. My mother taught it to me. There's lyrics to it, but I don't think I'm a very good singer." She laughed, and looked to him.

  He was staring at her, entranced. Emila's cheeks turned red, and she looked away shyly. "Er... was it good?"

  In that moment, she looked more beautiful to him than he had ever thought another person could be. Without thinking, he leaned forward, placing his hands beneath her ears and gently pulling her into a kiss.

  She gasped in surprise for a moment, but offered no resistance. The lute was dropped and forgotten. Her arms went around his shoulders and pulled him closer. She fell back, onto the bedroll, pulling him with her.

  She refused to let him go, and he had no desire to. She pulled him in closer, capturing his mouth with her own. Her lips were as soft as down. He ran his fingers through her hair and they melted together, a heat growing.

  He stopped, pulling away from her, because he had to. He knew where it would go if he continued, and he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he didn't stop then.

  "Luca?" Emila said, her breath short. Her beautiful green eyes were tinted with co
nfusion and perhaps a little bit of hurt.

  "We can't," he said. "We can't take the risk... What if you end up with child?"

  There was magick that people usually used to keep from having children when they didn't want to. Luca had never bothered to learn the technique. He'd never imagined he would ever need it. As a follower of the Way of Uro, he would have never known what it was like to be with a woman.

  In his mind's eye, he saw his father, dressed in heavy furs, walking with him through the thick snows of the Arimos. He remembered what it was like then, how he followed behind his father without question for so many years, the many things he had wanted to know going unanswered. Who his mother was, where they had come from, why they were running; Lodin had always said they weren't running, but Luca could tell they were. He could feel it even now, as though his father was alive again and right in front of him. He could remember that strange mix of respect and contempt he'd always felt for the man. He'd often silently called his father a coward.

  Now he was the coward. Now he understood why his father had done those things, and even found himself repeating a few of them.

  He could not bear the thought of becoming a father himself, because he was worried he would repeat every mistake Lodin had made.

  "It's okay," Emila said softly, gently placing her hand across his cheek. "You have nothing to worry about."

  He looked back at her, and there was a bit of sadness in her eyes.

  Emila shed the small clothes she wore. Luca could not take his eyes off her... she was beautiful. She blushed, and modestly covered herself with her hands.

  His heart began to race again. Part of him hesitated again. Perhaps he was actually afraid; it was his first time, after all. He felt weak for that; he always felt weak when he caught vulnerability in himself. But the sight of Emila was entrancing; her dark hair, her white skin, her emerald eyes... He could not deny what he felt for her any longer. And he knew he had started it by kissing her, so to refuse her now would hurt her.

  He took a deep breath, and he began to remove his own clothes. First the thick cloak he always wore, which he tossed aside beside them. And then his boots, his shirt, his trousers. He was shaking so much that he struggled to do such a simple thing. Emila watched with suppressed amusement.

  "Don't laugh," he warned her.

  She did not laugh, but there was a smile on her lips nonetheless. Finally, he removed the last bit of clothing he wore, and he sat before her, also nude. Emila's smile faded, and she shifted closer to him. He took her in his arms, and kissed her again.

  And so it was for some time - an hour, or maybe two - but to the them it felt like an eternity. At first it was over quickly, as was to be expected from two so young and eager. But they began again quickly, and once finished twice, continued even more. They let instinct and passion guide them as they explored one another.

  And finally, once they were both too exhausted to go on, they fell onto their backs, beside one another, and were quickly asleep.

 

  Marcus passed the guards outside his tent, who did not salute him as they were supposed to. In fact, their eyes were down, and they looked like they could barely keep awake. He would have reprimanded them for that, but he was just as tired himself, and he was eager to get to sleep. Putting it aside for the time being, he closed the tent shut and made his way to his bed.

  His talk with young Luca had gone well. The boy was young, and a bit foolhardy, but he had a good head on his shoulders. The boy would do well as a champion. His father had failed to do that, and it had caused the problems that they were at that camp to deal with. Marcus had high hopes that Lodin's son would not make the same mistakes his father had.

  The boy was angry and clearly hated Zinoro, his efforts to hide it being easy for Marcus to see through. This was good, but he needed to learn to control his rage. Too much of it would lead to mistakes, and they could not afford to make mistakes now. Zinoro was a dangerous enemy - only a fool would deny it - but they had the tools they needed to beat him.

  Marcus placed his sheathed sword on his writing desk, turned off the lantern, and went to his small bed. It was nothing like the bed he was used to sleeping in, back in Serenite, but it was much more comfortable than the simple sleep rolls his soldiers slept on. In the morning, when they left, they would leave behind the tents and with them, Marcus' bed. Travelling light was important in a land like Acaria. There were few rivers in the wasteland, and even fewer forests. Crops were impossible to grow on that soil; how Zinoro kept his army fed was still a mystery.

  As the king lay there in the dark, he wondered if this would be his last war. It would certainly be Zaow's. At almost eighty years old, Zaow was but an echo of his former youthful glory. Marcus was fifty-five, a difference of several decades from Zaow, but even at that age he was already feeling the weight of the years.

  The empty space beside Marcus bothered him. He missed his wife. She was back in Serenite, on her own. First they had lost Gera, and now Halt and he were away to fight this war. But with luck, they would soon be back in Serenite, and Ellen would never be without her husband and son again.

  Marcus heard a sound, so quiet he believed for a moment that it was a conjuration of his mind, on the brink of sleep. But in his slight attention, he was then aware of another presence within his tent. And when he felt the feeling of mana being gathered, his faded warrior instincts kicked in, and he rose from his bed and reached for his sword.

  Altair was not at his side. He recalled placing it on his desk moments ago. He looked around in the darkness, but he could not be certain where either the desk or the intruder were.

  Though he felt the intruder's mana, no attack came.

  "Who are you?" Marcus asked in a level voice.

  No answer came. He saw a brief flash, and then the lantern on his desk was burning again. The mana faded. Standing beside the desk was a woman, wrapped in a black cloak with a drawn hood. She turned to face Marcus. He estimated her age to be roughly thirty years of age, and she had black hair that framed a pretty face. But her eyes were strange; they had within them a dark, haunting look. She looked to Marcus hungrily.

  "King Marcus of Saeticia..." she said slowly.

  She stood between him and Altair. Marcus could not be sure, but she could have a weapon concealed within her cloak. He did not trust himself to be fast enough to grab the sword before she could attack him.

  However, she did not move to attack. She simply stood there, watching him with that strange, eerie look in her eyes.

  "How did you get past the guards?" Marcus asked her. Perhaps if he talked to her, eventually someone might come and help.

  "They are sleeping," she said.

  Marcus angrily remembered the two soldiers dozing off only a few minutes earlier. They would be punished for this, he swore.

  "What do you want?" he asked.

  The woman smiled slowly, glancing at the blade on the table behind her. "My master has sent me to carry out a task."

  "What task?"

  She chuckled, and returned her gaze to Marcus. There was something really odd about her, and Marcus was worried now. Something was very wrong.

  He made a decision. Turning on heel, Marcus made a break for the entrance of the tent. He was not worried about her taking Altair; he was the blade's master, and anyone else who touched it would be burned. But he was defenceless without it, and he couldn't take the risk of trying to reach it. Once outside the tent, he would have an entire army to help him.

  But before he could reach the door, the woman grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. He tripped, nearly falling to the ground, but he recovered in time to swing and strike the woman across the jaw. She collapsed, and Marcus took a step away from her.

  His wrist ached strangely where she had grabbed him. Marcus looked at it and saw mana flowing into his skin. The pain grew and heated up. He had only a few seconds to wonder what it was before it struck him.

  He collapsed onto the floor of his tent, his ins
ides burning like fire. In his field of vision he saw the entrance of the tent, and the two soldiers who were supposed to have been guarding him. The first of them was motionless; his eyes were gone, replaced by gaping holes of blood and pus. Blood leaked from his mouth, running down his chin in a river and gathering in an already large pool at his feet. The second guard twitched and convulsed, having what appeared to be a seizure of some kind. He made no sound; his tongue appeared to be swollen so much he could not close his mouth. His joints were twisted in unnatural ways.

  "Death is a certainty," said the woman behind him. "But it comes after many hours of unbearable pain. I do enjoy getting creative in how I kill."

  Marcus twisted around to face her as best he could. She was standing over him now. A bruise was already beginning to show on her cheek, but her satisfied smile was untouched.

  "My magick is irreversible," she said. "Your death is inevitable. But it will not come for many hours."

  Marcus tried to rise, but his muscles were tightening up in an unbearable way. He could barely even squirm on the ground, much less move. He tried to scream, to call for help, but all that came out was a pathetic choking sound.

  The woman in black turned away from him, her work done. He watched her, helpless to do anything at all, as she returned to the desk where Altair rested.

 

  The dawn came with a cold chill. Luca awoke to the sounds of yelling and chaos. As he sat up, Emila stirred in the sheets by his side, also roused by the noise.

  "What's going on?" she asked groggily.

  "I don't know," he said. After thinking for a moment, he got up and said, "I'm going to go see what's happening."

  "I'll go with you," she said, getting up and grabbing her clothes from the bag beside the bedroll.

  He considered asking her to stay, but he knew she wouldn't listen anyway. After putting on his own clothes, they went outside. The camp was filled with people running here and there, and indiscernible shouting. Luca spotted Tranom at his usual spot by the campfire, and made his way over to him, Emila following close behind. As they drew near, Luca saw Brand was there was well.

  Tranom barked a few quick orders to a pair of soldiers, one wearing the armour of Sono, and the other wearing the armour of Torachi.

  "What's happening?" Luca asked.

  "The king of Saeticia is dying," Tranom told him.

  Luca stopped, feeling a sudden chill that had little to do with the cold air. "Wh-what...?"

  "King Marcus?" Emila asked. "What's happened to him?"

  "Don't know yet," Tranom told them. "Everyone's running around, trying to figure out what's going on. We woke ready to march out to Acaria, only to find this happening."

  Luca thought of the previous night, when he had spoken with Marcus. He remembered the promise that the king had made to him; which he had likely not told anyone else in the time since then...

  "He's dying, right?" Luca asked Tranom. "He's not yet dead? He's still alive?"

  "From what I've heard."

  Luca turned to Emila. "I have to go there. I need to see him."

  She didn't ask why. She simply met his gaze, and nodded.

  They started off, just as Wiosna arrived, looking as confused as they had, and started to speak with Brand. Luca and Emila made their way through the growing crowd of soldiers, headed in the general direction of the Saetician camp. Finally, they reached Marcus' tent, to find a large number of people gathered outside.

  One of those people was Selphie. She looked over as they drew near, her expression shifting to a scowl at the sight of Luca. She immediately looked away.

  "What happened?" Emila asked him quietly.

  "I'll tell you later." Tentatively, he approached Selphie and spoke to her. "What's the status with Marcus?"

  Refusing to meet his gaze, she replied in a cold tone, "He's alive, but he won't be for long. That's what the healers are saying. My father is in there now, along with King Edmund and King Marcus' son."

  "What happened to him?"

  "Some kind of illness," Selphie said. "It struck him this morning. The prince knew nothing about it. It's possible he was hiding a disease from everyone."

  Luca thought about that. It didn't seem right. The Marcus of the previous night had been full of determination and inner strength. He knew he was growing old, and accepted it, but he did not have the look or temperament of a terminally ill man. Something about it all just felt wrong.

  "I can't believe this," Luca muttered. "I was just speaking with him last night..."

  Selphie glanced at him for a brief moment. She frowned, deep in thought for a moment, then said, "If I were you, I would keep that to myself for now."

  Luca looked at her, but she had nothing more to say to him.

  A few minutes later, the flap of the tent opened up, and Zaow poked his head out. He beckoned for Selphie to enter, and she did so. Luca took the opportunity to follow after her, with Emila at his heels. The princess didn't object, but she didn't seem pleased with his presence either.

  Inside the tent, two kings and various lords were gathered around Marcus' bed. Zaow was by the entrance, waiting for his daughter. He noticed Luca and Emila enter, but said nothing.

  Marcus lay on his back on the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. His eyes were wide open and bloodshot; he did not blink. Indeed, he seemed unable to move in the slightest. His veins were darkened, looking like his blood had turned black. Occasionally, he would convulse, and cough up a few specks of blood. This, and his shallow breathing, were the only signs that the king still lived. He had not yet disappeared.

  "The healers looked him over," Zaow said quietly to his daughter. "They say he is in constant pain. He cannot move or communicate in any way. There is no way to treat it, so the only thing that can be done is to put him out of his misery. We are waiting for Prince Halt to make a decision."

  Halt was kneeling at the side of his father's bed, holding Marcus' hand in his. His expression was torn with indecision.

  Zaow then said, in an even quieter tone, "It is not a natural illness. Someone did this with inverted healing magick."

  "But who would do something like this?" Selphie asked, her eyes filled with pity for Marcus. "And why?"

  "We have no idea who could have done this," Zaow said. "It would have had to have been an extremely skilled assassin, to slip in and out the way they did. The two guards outside were found dying of similar conditions, but they could not speak either. As for why..."

  Zaow's glance shifted over to a writing desk on the other side of the tent. It was empty. Luca had a feeling in his gut; he already knew what Zaow was about to say, and he dreaded it.

  "It would seem Zinoro is a smarter man than we gave him credit for," Zaow said. "He knew what the one true threat to him was, and he eliminated it before we had a chance to even use it. Whoever this assassin he sent was, Marcus' Rixeor Fragment passed to them the moment his death was a certainty."