* * *
Muda did his part perfectly. Sophia looked as if she might have trouble holding Muda's sword, but she whispered a spell to strengthen herself. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but cold. Few had illusions about her romantic nature, but the Sikeran's were a dutiful people, and she was doing her duty to them. And they were all drunk, so it was hard to care about fairytales.
Yannick spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the fringes. He avoided the most rigorous of the drunks, wandering through the crowds, stopping to greet a few old friends, but mostly soaking in Sikeran's traditions. He had been to many weddings in the past, but this was the first one he truly felt he belonged.
When the moon was almost at its apex, he went with the others into the fields outside the city. He watched as each family mixed the burning powders, then ceremoniously scattered them on their shrine. He watched as they drunkenly smashed flint and stone together, and smiled when he heard the gasps of children. When they shrines had all been lit, were blaring in the darkness of the night Yannick found his horse and rode to meet his honor guard. He was on his way home.
Gloria, Yaros
"WHERE ARE THEY?" Ibalize screamed as he slammed Gloria to the ground.
She looked up slowly and cocked her head sideways, then barked at him. Ibalize raised his gargantuan hand and slapped her across the cave. He moved towards her again, then picked her up by the leg and slammed her down again and again.
"Where are my parents? Where is the shard they hid?"
Gloria giggled. "Tickles..." she said.
He picked her up and slammed her down again.
She pushed herself up, then looked at him, and yawned. "That won't work, and you know it. Now you're just wasting time."
Ibalize stopped and stared at her. "Do you tire of immortality, bitch? Are you so desperate for death that you would cross me?"
"Death is the one thing I hope to avoid. It is the one thing that the goddess has tasked me to do, I will honor her."
Ibalize began to laugh. "The goddess has abandoned you, little prophetess. You still live one reason. Despite your little betrayal, you are still of use to me."
Gloria giggled again. "You think I will tell you where the shard is? Silly silly."
"My parent's shard...Yes, that is quite the nuisance. But I will find it eventually. I am in no rush, and the shard is now in play. One way or another it will be drawn to me. No, you will serve another purpose now. Since your words can no longer be trusted, you will help me test a theory of mine."
Ibalize withdrew his shard, and Gloria whimpered.
"Yes," he spoke, "I thought you might feel that way. It is even more glorious than you could have imagined. I just saw my brother die. I saw him killed with a shard. Do you know what else I saw? His power, his very essence was stolen from him."
Ibalize dragged the shard along her face, leaving a crisp red mark. "With this I can do more than kill you. I can steal your strength. I can steal the gifts the goddess gave you."
Gloria's eyes went wide with terror, and she began to struggle, but Ibalize held her tight.
"Your own lies are your undoing, little prophetess. Now I have the means to become more powerful than you could imagine."
"You will be stopped." She spat.
He jammed the shard into her stomach and she screamed a hollow, echoless scream. Slowly, energy twisted around the shard, crawling up Ibalize's arm, and dissipating into his chest.
When she finished screaming he threw her motionless body against the wall, then turned around and flew away.
Debra, Yannick
“Lady Debra, the representative from Sikeran will arrive shortly.”
Debra had recently begun sitting in the king’s throne, and looked down at him from it. She thought he sounded afraid. What did he have to be afraid about? She would get her spies to look into his recent doings.
“There is a problem, my lady. The representative…he is one of the former king’s advisors.”
Why is he only sharing this information now? What does he gain from holding onto it for so long?
“It is the lord Yannick.”
Debra scowled and threw the glass she was holding at the man. For ten years she had searched for him, and now he was going to walk up to her front gate. Did he think that he was protected? Did he think she would not find out where the boy-king was!
“He represents a powerful ally. I would go down to meet him.” She said as she stood. She hurried to her chambers. Much to the servant’s relief she had not yet had the courage to move into the king’s own rooms.
She had the servants shine her armor while she took a bath. She made sure to lock the door while she cleaned herself, and carried her sword into the room so she could ready it herself.
After the servants went to inspect her armor, never once putting her sword down. She checked the armor for poison needles, razors, spells and the like, and then when she was finally satisfied she put it back on.
Next, she went down to the barracks. They had grown empty as of late. Too many traitors to be dealt with, but they made due. She chose twenty soldiers that she thought she might be able to trust. When they were ready they headed down to the main gates to await the traitor.
Yannick did not expect Debra to be the first person he saw in the city, but he took it in stride. He dismounted, then withdrew his sword and lay it on the ground before her as he kneeled. She stared down at him from her horse, looking almost as noble as he remembered her. Finally, after a few moments of silence, she smiled graciously.
“It is good to see you old friend!” She said. “I did not expect we would meet again, and certainly not under these circumstances! The Sikeran are very lucky to have you representing them.” She dismounted as well, and then bent down to pick up his sword. She offered it back to him hilt first.
“You honor me with such trust.” Yannick said.
She laughed softly. “It is not hard to trust that such a man as you does not want to die.” She motioned him to stand up.
“Come, ride alongside me,” she said, “I would hear your tale.”
Yannick bowed, then backed away from Debra as she turned around, conscious to never turn his back. He mounted his horse and pulled up alongside her.
“How was your journey?” She asked him. “I hope you did not encounter any trouble.”
“It was pleasant, my lady. Sikeran has little trouble with bandits, and Yaloran’s roads seem to be safer than I’ve ever seen them. Though there were refugees at every step.” Yannick replied.
“They have become a problem, in truth. But we have prepared ourselves for such emergencies, and while there is rationing the people persevere.”
Yannick looked around at the people on the streets. They looked happy and healthy enough. But there were no beggars, and what was for sale was not being sold, simply sitting on carts.
“You’ve been gone for a long time.” Debra continued. “I would know why you left. And how.”
Yannick paused. He knew this question had been coming, but he did not know how best to answer it. “It was a…complicated time, my lady. The king had died, and with his final breath he asked me to protect his son. I did not know who I could trust, and so I chose to trust no one.”
“Except for the Sikeran.” Yannick could hear Debra’s voice starting to crack.
“After a time, yes.” “I have spent a significant amount of time and resources searching for the boy.” She said. “His throne awaits him.” She said, almost idly.
“I do not believe he has any interest in a throne. He craves nothing more than to meet enemies on the battlefield, and fight for the glory of his people.”
“The Yaloran are his people.” Debra said coldly.
“Once, perhaps,” Yannick replied, “But time and trial have changed his outlook. He would not want to take command when you are doing such a fine job.”
Debra seemed to consider this for a moment, then replied, “I have always only been holding his place.
And in truth, it has begun to tire me. But we will not change his mind tonight.” She laughed gaily.
Yannick smiled, relieved as the tension lightened.
“I will have my officers speak more thoroughly with you later on this. Perhaps they will be able to give more insight. For now, let us speak of other things.” Debra said, laying a hand on his arm for just a moment.
They spoke of trivialities for the rest of the journey. How the city had changed, family members and cultural differences. Finally, they arrived at the castle, and entered its protective walls, and were met by a troop of archers and lancers.
The Sikeran drew their weapons.
“This is unnecessary, my lady.” Yannick said.
“You are a potential traitor and kidnapper.” Debra replied. “Tell your soldiers to disarm, and they will be spared while you yourself await trial.”
Yannick did as she asked.
“Very well.” She said. “Take them to the barracks, and lock them in. Each of them is to be questioned. You may take Yannick up to the guest chambers in the eastern wing. He is to be given anything he requires.”
Yannick sighed with relief. It was a significant risk he took, asking his soldiers to abandon their weapons. Being imprisoned was also within his expectations. Now, the negotiations would truly begin.
Alkorn, Ibalize
Alkorn and his soldiers prepared the bodies of their allies after the battle. They were cremated, and their ashes were collected to be given to family or friends, should the opportunity present itself. They made a small meal, but none had the energy to eat. They tried to sleep but were too consumed by grief and curiosity about the shining blue shard that Alkorn held.
The others had tried to touch it, but it burned them, and so Alkorn was left alone to consider its power. And the power it had given Alkorn. He felt stronger than he ever had. Even the powers that this realm had bestowed upon him paled in comparison. He now spent most of his time staring at it, trying to discover its mysteries.
He began to experiment with it. He tried to carve off a small piece, which was impossible. He had exposed it to fire. He had scratched his own flesh to see if anything happened, but the shard remained silent.
Eventually, he decided to see what would happen if he once again brought it to the corpse of his enemy. He poked and prodded, much to his soldier’s disgust, but nothing happened. He would leave the body alone for a time, then find himself returning to it, examining it once again, seeing if there was any life left. He felt compelled to try more extreme measures, as if he had no choice in the matter.
Alkorn sat down beside Yaros and began to concentrate. He began to think about the few moments he spent with the god.
From the corner of his eye, Alkorn saw Yaros stir, and so he concentrated hard, putting all of his energy into any tiny movement. He heard a gasp.
Yaros sat up suddenly and began to cough. The small wound caused by the shard sealed itself. The mages had him instantly.
“Yaros.” Alkorn said softly.
“He abandoned me,” the god replied, “My own brother left me to die.” He chuckled softly.
“What do you mean?” Alkorn asked.
“My brother was here. When you struck me with the shard, he watched the whole thing happen. And he did nothing.” Yaros struggled slightly.
“I have weakened.” He said, finally.
“What are you?" Alkorn asked, "What are you talking about?"
Yaros smiled sadly. “Your kind call us gods, though none of us have the power of the goddess, or of the dark ones.”
“Impossible." Alkorn looked stunned. "The gods exist, far away. They look down at us, but they never…"
“We do as we please, mortal. We have not walked your world for an age, that is true, but even gods get tired of watching. My brother, he…” Yaros stopped.
“He left you to die.”
“He is the only reason I am here. The only reason I left my home, captured my parents. I never felt the need to kill….but he is my brother.”
“Betrayal I can understand, at least.” Alkorn responded. “If your brother does not protect you, then there is no reason for you to defend him. There are likely still pockets of soldiers fighting outside. Tell your army to stand down.”
Yaros turned his eyes to look at Alkorn. "You truly do not understand… they will not surrender. If they are ever freed they will be hunted down. They will be dragged back to the war camps, and flayed alive, along with their families and loved ones. Oh, no, mortal. Every soldier out there will fight until their blood is spilled, and even then they will spill their own blood at your feet, in fear that Ibalize watches them."
Alkorn stood shocked. “But…why? What does he hope to gain from slaughtering his own soldiers?”
Yaros stared mockingly. “Gain? He wants nothing more than to ease his boredom. He needs nothing. He wants nothing. He kills because he can find no other task to amuse him.”
“Then he needs this." Alkorn held up the shard and listened to it crackle for a moment. "Once he has conquered this world he will grow bored once again, won't he? With this, he can grow stronger."
Yaros laughed. “That side effect was entirely unexpected, actually. He likely has not even realized the shard's potential."
Alkorn turned to one of the mages. “Has he truly been weakened?”
The man's face was calm, he exerted almost no effort for his spell. “It seems that way my lord. Magic is about balance, and if you truly feel your own powers have increased we can assume that his must have diminished.”
Alkorn looked at the shard again. “Do you think you can restrain him until we reach camp?”
“Yes, general. We can also set up a few wards which will do great harm if he attempts anything.” The mage replied.
“Very well." Alkorn turned to the god. "Yaros, you are my prisoner. I hope that you do not have the same zeal for death as your own soldiers, but if you do we will do our best to accommodate you."
Alkorn turned to his own soldiers. “We have been here long enough. It is time for us to go.”
Yaros smiled cruelly. “I made a gate which leads directly to the outside world. My brother made use of it, perhaps you would also like to as well?”
Alkorn shook his head. “I tire of your voice. Mage, silence him.”
Yaros was not permitted to speak until they had returned to camp.
Debra, Yannick
Yannick spent several weeks in Yaloran. Every day he would wander the castle for a bell, escorted by ever-changing guards. He would visit his soldiers, who remained disarmed and segregated from the local troops, but were otherwise well taken care of. They were even allowed to practice their drills with blunted weapons, though the captain in charge had been smart enough to maintain military secrecy.
He spent a fair amount of time thinking about Muda. The boy had changed since his cleansing. He had a creativity that Yannick himself lacked. He was stronger, now, as well, and had Sophia to guide him. Yannick was no longer needed to protect the young man.
Yannick spent most of his time in his chamber trying to figure out what Debra really wanted. He had little contact with anyone but his guards, his soldiers, and Debra herself. Occasionally a clerk would come and ask him questions. He would give what information he deemed prudent, but his own questions were never answered. He was given books to read, but he had little taste for them. His eyesight had long gone, and reading was strenuous.
He wrote letters, and asked for them to be sent to Sikeran, but he was confident this did not happen.
So he sat, waited, and met with Debra when she was available. Debra would occasionally raise the subject of Sikeran, but always passingly. Whenever Yannick attempted to push the subject, speak of their alliance or the coming army, she would look irritated then change the subject. She would often ask about Muda, but Yannick was also evasive in this regard. He did not want her to know too much about the general.
It was obvious that she had no intent of giving up her power, bu
t he had been telling the truth when he said Muda had no great aspirations for the crown. His protestations had no effect. He waited.
It happened soon after dusk. Debra had her own meal brought up, and they dined together. She wore a dress, instead of her customary armor, and was more jovial than usual. She smiled, and joked, and talked of the past. Yannick was immediately suspicious but played along, hoping it wasn’t a sign of something dire. Finally, she broached the subject of Muda.
“So the princeling does not want to claim his throne?” She asked once again.
“My lady, I do not know how else I can reassure you of this fact. He is Sikeran, now. Yaloran has not been home to him for a decade, and even then it was a different place.” Yannick replied.
Normally at this point Debra would start to tell him of the great progress that had been made while she had been in charge, but today she stopped speaking and began to devour her meal. Yannick sat in silence for a short while, watching her consume the food, barely taking time to breathe, then tried to pick the conversation once again.
“My lady," he said, "I would speak to you of the alliance with Sikeran. We must settle this as quickly as possible. Our own scouts warn that the enemy army is fast approaching."
She did not answer, but instead continued methodically working her way through her meal.
“We should position our armies close together.” He continued. “Sikeran armor has no hope of matching Yaloran’s. Your soldiers will act as the shield, and Sikeran’s will strike where they are weakest, as they do in their own lands." He sensed she was getting worse and made sure not to refer to himself as one of the Sikeran. She continued to ignore him.
“We do not know their exact numbers, but we are confident if we work together we will win.”
She had almost finished. Yannick waited for a moment, then tried another topic. “My soldiers are being well cared for. I would thank you for that.”
She took her last bite, then drank the remainder of her wine in one mouthful. Yannick watched her, unsure what was about to come next. Finally, she smiled softly at him.
“I get very hungry when I am working.” She said. “I sometimes forget to eat beforehand, and have to stop half-way through.”
She stood up slowly, drawing in Yannick with the shape of her body. She leaned forward as she spoke.
“What happens here…It’s going to hurt. I want you to know that I had never intended this. But I simply cannot allow the princeling to live. Even if it means harming you, old friend.”
She called out softly and half a dozen guards rushed through the door. Yannick tried to resist, mostly for the sake of his pride, but he has unarmed, unarmored, and they were too many.
They tied rope around his hands and strung him up to the roof. The soldiers handled him carefully, they did not beat him, and they tied the rope only as tight as they had to. Yannick could sense their own fear.
Once he swung from the ceiling they stripped off his clothes. One of Debra’s soldiers brought in a toolkit, then everyone but the Lady-Regent left the room.
“You have gotten fat, old man.” She laughed as she drew open the kit. Inside lay a myriad of tools, each sharpened and immaculate.
“I will ask you again about the boy, and about the Sikeran army. I know that they hope to overthrow me, and I will discover their plan.” She withdrew one of the knives and held it up in front of herself. She examined every edge, felt its balance and softly tested its blade against his skin. Yannick clenched his jaw as the knife slid across his arm.
“This is my sharpest knife.” She told him. “I don’t like to use it very often. Usually only early on in the interrogations. Too much blood for too little pain. I’ll use it now, though. As a mercy to you.”
She crossed to the fire that warmed the room, and held the knife above the flames.
“Of course, I can’t have you bleeding to death, can I?” When the blade was red she began her work.”