Breaking the Gloaming (28 page)

“But twenty years ago there was a coup in Sunan. A more aggressive sect of their faith believed their leader himself was divine. When they betrayed the reigning family, the new leader took the throne as a god. The young king outside our walls is that man’s son. There has been no Sunan vessel bearing peace since the coup. The last vessel that came brought no message of peace, though it had a messenger and a young boy. The boy was the son of the deposed Sunan king. I took him into our orphanage in the cathedral and then I arranged an adoption. Justus Davosman raised him.”
 

Yates motioned to Andor. “And now he stands before us, our prince, a man with a bloodright to the Sunan throne.”

The revelation rippled through the group. Several of them began to talk at once. Yates held up his hand and spoke over the clamor. “When we send our messenger to propose the duel, we will send Sebastian. He will explain this history. He will explain that, if we win the duel, the Sunan’s own line will return to power. It is as much a battle within their people as it is against us. Allies of Andor’s family remain among their ranks.”

“What Father Yates says is true,” Andor said. “I confirmed it with my own research in the archives, and I have felt the tug of the Sunans in my blood and in my faintest memories.” The prince looked around the group. Every eye was on him. “The Sunans
will
take my offer, and we
will
win the duel.”

“I’ll fight.” Tryst spoke for the first time. There was no passion in his voice. He stood and walked to Andor’s side. “I’ll be your knight again.”

Andor clasped his shoulder. His face might have looked composed to the others, but Yates saw deep joy there.
 

“I would fight with you and Tryst.” Ryn stood. “But I’m too old. My son, Jacodin, he will fight with you.”

Andor nodded.

Then Ulysses joined them, followed by Jon and Pikeli.
 

“We may need all of you,” Andor said, “but whoever fights must be ready and able. For now, we must prepare our message to the Sunans. Yates, Lorien, Ravien, and Wren, we will stay here to draw up the proposal. Jon and Sebastian, I want you both by my side in the duel, but first I need you to figure out how to get the message to Sunan king. Tryst and Ulysses, you sleep tonight. I want you strong enough to join me tomorrow. Justus, Ryn, and Pikeli, develop a list for me, a list of the greatest fighters in Valemidas. We may need as many as ten. I care not for status, just find me loyal men who know how to fight.”
 

Andor paused, and silence hung heavy in the room. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but firm. “Another day of war and destruction awaits,” he said. “Let us hope and pray a duel will bring us peace at the price of only a few lives.”

As the group dispersed, Father Yates shifted his thoughts to Sebastian. He held the slimmest of hopes the man would do his duty without the corruption of evil.
A dark priest touches the spy’s mind. He will kill you, and it will bring peace
. Yates winced as the words sprang into his head. He prayed it could be different, but he prayed above all he could bear whatever came with grace.

Chapter 29

DARK REUNIONS

“No notice is taken of a little evil,
 

but when it increases it strikes the eye.”
 

Sebastian slid down the rope outside the southern wall of Valemidas. Once on the ground, he looked up to Jon and tugged the rope twice. Jon’s silhouette was black against the clear night sky. The knight pulled the rope up and signaled all was clear. He would be there, ready to drop the rope again, when Sebastian returned.

Sebastian was not sure he would return. As he walked away from the city and toward the Sunan army, he considered burning the note. This proposed duel threatened to unravel his carefully laid plans. The agreement with Justus and Ravien had succeeded as well as Sebastian could have hoped. He had earned their trust by fulfilling his end of the deal, and the explosion had hurt the Sunans enough to make it a more even fight. The two nations were poised for days and weeks of battle and chaos and death. Sebastian’s fate would have been safe between them. But none of his plans worked if he had to fight to the death in a duel between the nations’ leaders.

Sebastian came to the fringe of the Sunan camp before anyone stopped him. He had not bothered trying to sneak in.
 

A warrior met him with a spear pointed at his chest. “
A
’
lat
.
Pasa neth?
”
 

Sebastian identified himself by pointing to the tattoo at his temple. The warrior’s eyes opened wide. He bowed before Sebastian. It had been many years since anyone had done that. Sebastian told the warrior to take him to Malam with haste.

They moved through the camp toward the beached ships. The order of the tents reminded Sebastian of his youth. No deviations from the Sunan discipline were tolerated. Yet, as he overheard the few men still talking around campfires, Sebastian detected excitement and more. These men were happy. They had fought for Sunan today, and they had killed many of the enemy. Many Sunans had died, too, but they were noble deaths. The camp was no funeral. It was a celebration.
 

Sebastian’s guide stopped before a wide plank leading up to a large ship. Four guards stood before the walkway. Even in the dark of night, their gold helmets gleamed.

Sebastian pointed again to his temple and announced his name. “
Sebanith il’Seban
.” Then he asked for Malam and his father.

One of the guards ran up the plank. Moments later he came back and led Sebastian to the deck, where Malam waited. Sebastian bowed to him.

“Rise,” Malam said. “I have looked forward to meeting after so long, but this timing concerns me. The prince still trusts you?”

“He does.” Sebastian held up the note. “He appointed me to bring you this message.”

Malam nodded. “Come, we will talk more below.”
 

Sebastian saw no sign of his father as he followed the priest to a cabin in the ship’s hull. Lanterns lit the modest room. Two candles, a blank parchment, and a skull sat on a desk by the far wall. Black cushions formed a circular sitting area. 

Malam gestured for Sebastian to sit and held out his hand for the note. Sebastian gave it to him.

Malam broke the seal and read it.
 

“A duel could be to our advantage.” He looked up at Sebastian. His stare was unsettling. “What are the worst terms the prince told you he would accept?” 

“The prince proposes ten versus ten in the field outside Valemidas. He asks—”

The priest held up his hand. “Sebanith, let’s not play games with each other. You have been away many years. Your messages have suggested you remain true to Sunan, but the culture of Valemidas will corrupt a man. Prove your loyalty to me and I might let you leave this room alive.”

Sebastian kept his face smooth and nodded. Playing both sides was more delicate than walking a knife’s edge. 

“Six Valemidans against seven Sunans,” Sebastian said. 

“Good.” Malam smiled. “I am glad we understand each other. We can accept those numbers if you are among the Valemidan six. The prince will agree to that?”

“He will,” Sebastian answered. “He also knows we will demand that the fighters wear no armor. He will agree to no helmets, but that is as far as he will go.”

“No helmets then,” Malam said. He rose and moved to the desk in the room. “His Excellency will agree to this. He will see his honor is at stake. I will prepare our note of acceptance. Tell me, when we win, how will the prince arrange for the city’s surrender?”

“He will appoint a Valemidan priest to persuade the people to accept it. The nobles will deliver the throne to His Excellency. The nobles have much power in Valemidas.”

“Nations accept such things when they lack a divine king.” Malam spoke and then was quiet as he finished writing.
 

He rolled and sealed the note. As he sat again, he leaned forward with his eyes boring into Sebastian’s. They were like pits of darkness. “When you betray and kill the prince during the duel, that will seal your place among us. But before dawn, you have another task. You must kill the high priest of Valemidas.”  

“Father Yates?” Sebastian asked.

Malam nodded. “It is time for the priest to die. Kill him and leave his body somewhere the people will find it, but do not let the prince learn of it before the duel. Understood?”

“Yes, but why?” Sebastian would not have gone so far, though he wanted Yates dead.
 

“This battle goes beyond men,” Malam said. “The priest’s body will serve as a warning to those who meddle against me in the spiritual realm. Faith in His Excellency allows no exceptions.” The words came out like a threat.  

“I will do these things,” Sebastian said. “And then I will have my reward, yes? I have long toiled for this.”

“You share His Excellency’s blood. If you do these things, I will bless you as next in line to the throne, until there are heirs. You will move ahead of your father.” Malam paused. “He is coming now.”

Sebastian heard the heavy footsteps outside the door just before it crashed open. His father stumbled in. Sebastian stood.

“Sebanith!” Seban rushed to his son and embraced him. He leaned heavily on Sebastian, as if for support. He smelled of strong spirits. “Look at you, as strong a man as I ever was!” 

“Father, I have long looked to this moment.”

“Aye!” Seban patted him firmly on the cheek. “It has been too long.” He turned and glared at Malam. “And yet you hid my son’s arrival from me?”

“Tomorrow you will fight against him in a duel.” Malam’s face was blank. He stood slowly. “You will say the words that signal the betrayal. Then Sebanith will join us for good. When the prince is dead, we can have our reunions. Now Sebanith has a task before him and little time.”

“He can’t leave now,” Seban protested. “Not after so long away.”

“He leaves now,” Malam said, “if he wants to return to his noble place with my blessing and His Excellency’s favor.”

“You have no right—” Seban began.

“I will go.” Sebastian nodded to his father, who looked defeated. “We have a lifetime before us, a lifetime in Sunan’s royal court. Fight well tomorrow.”

“And you as well, my son.” The joy was gone from Seban’s face.

Malam was smiling. “This is a blessed night for Sunan. Our victory comes with the morning.” He handed the rolled note to Sebastian. It had the seal of the Sunan king. “Farewell, Sebanith.”

“Farewell.” Sebastian bowed to the priest and embraced his father.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Seban’s quiet laugh rang hollow. “And take it easy on me tomorrow. For Sunan!”

“For Sunan,” Sebastian answered.
 

He left the room and the ship. No one stopped him as he made his way back through the camp and to the wall of Valemidas.
 

Jon was waiting and dropped the rope when Sebastian approached. Sebastian climbed it, and the two of them hurried to the palace and the prince.
 

Andor had no doubt on his face as he took the message from Sebastian. He read the terms and then began giving orders. He told Jon to gather their fighters and meet him by the gate. He told Sebastian to get some rest before the duel. The six fighters would depart the city at dawn.

Sebastian took his leave and went straight to the Cathedral. He climbed onto the rooftop and swung through the same window he had entered before. The old man was on his knees, praying at an altar. Candles lit his wrinkled face as he turned toward Sebastian.

“You do not have to do this,” the priest said. “Fight with Valemidas, stay with Valemidas. You will be blessed if you are loyal to Andor now. But if you do what you came here to do, you will suffer for eternity.”

“I did not come to hear a sermon.” Sebastian pulled out his blade. “You knew the stakes. You have ruined my plans.”

“Plans can change, people can change.” The priest rose to his feet. “The light is within reach. I know how you have suffered in darkness, under the spell of a Sunan priest. I know it has hurt you to live a life of lies. That suffering can turn to joy. A wise man once said you must submit to supreme suffering in order to discover the completion of joy. It is within your reach.”
 

The priest glanced at the gleaming metal before his eyes. He did not look afraid. “Sebastian, listen to me. Let go of the weapon, take hold of joy. ”

“You have never understood,” Sebastian said. “Some of you can walk in truth. Men born into their positions, men like Andor and His Excellency. The rest of us have to earn it, to take it, to kill for every scrap of power that fortune presents to us.”

“We are born into different places,” the priest nodded. “And you are not alone in feeling this perpetual and restless desire for power after power. It is an empty quest, Sebastian. Some of us are set aside for eternal salvation, but others face damnation in just punishment for their sin.” He lifted a finger as if signaling attention. Sebastian’s fist tightened. “But none of us know who has been chosen for any role. So all you have to do is take the next step in the direction of the light, and then the step after that one. Put down your blade and leave. I will say nothing of this.”

“You know nothing of choice,” Sebastian growled. “A father sending his son away into an unknown land, and expecting loyalty. I had no choice!”
 

The priest’s eyes were sad, knowing. “The time of my departure has come,” the priest said. He looked up to the ceiling. “I have fought the good fight, finished the course, and kept the faith. In eternity there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness.”

Sebastian no longer heard the priest’s words. He was numb to everything. He did not feel his blade as it sank into the priest’s side. He did not think as he carried the body out, slumped over his shoulder like a sack. All he heard and felt and knew were Malam’s words,
it is time for the priest to die
.

*
*
*

Dawn brought an unseasonably warm and clear winter morning upon the empty plaza of Valemidas. The soldiers manned the city’s walls. The prince and his men were by the gate, preparing for the duel. And so it was some time before the first passing servants and messengers were shocked to see the body of the old priest on the white tree.