Divided (13 page)

Taeru wanted to pull away from her, but this was his sister
and he had to find some way to help her.  He continued forward.  “Aela, what
happened?  Tell me what happened.”

“You happened,” she growled.  “You did this.  You did all of
this, and you will be the reason that we all perish, you coward.”  Her voice
was angry, and what was terrifying was that it was Aela’s.  He’d never heard it
spoken in such angry tones, but the voice was his sister’s.

Tremors took hold of his body.  “N-no.  I will fix this.  I
won’t let you die, Aela.  I swear.”  His words were sincere, and he would have
done anything—but he didn’t know if he was already too late.  He’d already
failed, according to everyone else, and he’d already watched his own brother
wither away in his arms.

“Oh, will you?” she hissed.  She dropped the blood soaked
flower and started towards him, with those blood red eyes shimmering with some
sort of a hunger.  “Will you try to save me, brother?  Do you swear it?  You
dare speak such words after you abandoned me?  You left me to die in Cathalar
while you went and piddled your life away in our sworn enemy’s land?” she
growled.

He let out a breath.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to
this.  He had abandoned his sister, and he’d been living with the guilt of that
for five years.  But he’d been sure that he’d made the right choice—that he
ought to be somewhere, try and find another way to stop the war—since in
Cathalar he had been unable.  “I didn’t abandon you, Aela,” he whimpered.  “I
was trying to help you… I love you.”

“Liar!” she shrieked her response and when she did,
something within the black mass started to stir.  Was it going to try and
consume her?  His eyes widened, and he took another step forward.  “You never
loved me.  You never cared about anyone but yourself.  You’re a pathetic excuse
for a brother, and more pathetic of one for a prince.”  Her words hurt, but he
couldn’t rightly deny them.

“I am so sorry, Aela.  Please… just…”  All at once, the rose
that she’d dropped shot forward and stabbed into his stomach.  The rose still
sat before her, but it had extended deadly vines and they pierced his body without
difficulty.  He twitched as blood ran down the vine towards the rose, as if it
was hungry for it.  “Aela…” he choked.

“This is what we want,” she said.  “Everyone in Cathalar
wants you dead.  Everyone in Telandus wants you dead.  Because of you, this war
will come to pass and we will all be held accountable for your failings.”

Taeru shook his head desperately.  “N-no.  Kill me, then. 
Kill me.  Do whatever you need to do.  I never meant to let this happen!  Kill
me if it will stop this war!  Please!” he begged. 

With his words, the figure of his sister twisted into
something much more horrifying.  A monster, a black monster with the blood red
eyes and teeth that looked wholly ready to eat him.  Terror pressed into his
body.  “Foolish child… your words will never mean anything.” 

Suddenly, a black tendril shot out from the black mass and
wrapped around his wrist, yanking him forward to the horrifying black monster. 
Another shot out from the tree just as he opened his eyes and let out a pained
gasp.

“The Magister of Direction had promised the others that
there was no other way—that destruction, their last resort, would end this
disaster.  And her words had been disproven, the foulest of all humiliations.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.i

Aela dropped the book to her desk, just as her chamber maid,
Isabella, stuck the last pin in her hair.  She deeply wished that hair could be
done before dressing, because the bodice of her dress was threatening to
squeeze the life out of her.  Isabella offered an apologetic smile and then
stood back to admire her work.  Aela’s hair was pinned up so that it sat at the
top of her head, but a few of her curls were allowed to swing down around her
shoulders.

She smiled approvingly and dismissed her aid without another
word.  She would have ordinarily been more friendly, but she was on her way to
dinner—and that was never an overly joyous occasion.  Her hand reached
instinctively for the book she’d been reading, but knowing that she couldn’t be
frivolous with her care of the forbidden book, she hurried to the little
compartment beside her bed and eased it back in.

The book had turned out to be quite the distraction.  In
fact, Aela had found herself so absorbed in the fascinating story of the book
that she had missed one of her dance lessons and gotten quite an earful about
that from Father.  She deemed the venture worth it, though, as the book was
doing more than helping her to not think about the terrible events that were on
the horizon—it seemed to be subtly giving her a way to deal with them.

The book was precisely what Graan had said it was.  There
was a hero, and that hero was working with intense fervor to prevent two
warring lands from—well, warring.  The idea was to get the rulers of the lands
to come to an agreement.  The problem was that the two lands seemed opposed in
every regard.

The Magisters then declared the lands unfit to exist in the
realm of life, and the hero went to work upon convincing the gods that this was
not the case.  Aela had read the book twice, and was halfway through her third
time.  This had taken a couple of cycles, fourteen circles of the sun, but she
was finally starting to understand the book. 

Her dress clung to her body and swept out too far as she
walked down to the dinner table where her father would no doubt already be
waiting.  Ryo tended to be later to these events, so she’d have to hope that
the burden of being the last to arrive didn’t fall on her.  The dinner room was
a too-large room, with black and white tiling and a long golden table in the
center.  The table was meant to seat twenty, which made dinners that consisted
only of Veyron, Ryo and Aela rather awkward.

Not as if Taeru had made much of a difference on the large
table, but it was times like that when she missed him the most.  She had tried
to resume her frequent visits to Lower Town, and she had even had a few sword
lessons with Arthal in the past two cycles, but nevertheless, she couldn’t stop
thinking and worrying about her brother.

The last couple of suns he was in Cathalar, Taeru had spent
with Aela.  He had informed her of his plans, and he assured her that she would
not want to go with him.  She hadn’t believed him then, and she didn’t believe
him now, but without Taeru’s guidance, Aela knew that she wouldn’t last in the
wilds.  That didn’t mean she didn’t have fantasies of following after her
adventurous brother.  Too many dreams had been of finding him and talking to
him—just one more time.

As Aela had read the book, Taeru had been ever present in
her mind.  Perhaps because the hero of the story reminded her so much of her
brother.  The hero was reckless and did things impulsively—some of which didn’t
turn out in his favor.  Still, what he never failed to do was to show those
around him that he did care—and that was inevitably how he forced the lands
into peace.

Taeru was reckless, and he had always been reckless.  He
threw himself in the way of danger for no real reason, except that he thought
he might help some flea with its troubles somewhere.  He would have given
anything to help anyone—anyone other than himself.  Taeru’s problem, and it was
not one that Aela had fully understood when her brother left, was that he
blamed himself for things he couldn’t control.  Guilt had plagued Taeru
endlessly before he had left.  Through constant bickering with their father
over Lavus, and constant begging of Ryo to understand why the war couldn’t
happen, Taeru had found a way to blame himself.  Aela was sure that he had
left, even though he may not have known it himself, to try and find another way
to stop the war.

Neither Veyron, nor Lavus, was going to agree not to go to
war.  Especially Veyron, with the way Lavus handled things.  For Veyron to
refuse the war, he would have been selling all of his people into slavery.  Taeru
had figured that out just as Veyron had, which was ultimately why he’d stopped
arguing for the position.  Lavus was the one that had to be addressed if the
war was ever to be stopped, and Taeru certainly couldn’t talk to him.

Aela entered the dinner room and was relieved to find that
not everyone had arrived yet.  They had invited a few guests, some of which
were the men that she was supposedly considering in her marriage plans.  A few
of them were there, and she suppressed her sigh as she bobbed a curtsy to her
father.  “Evening,” she spoke clearly and precisely.

Veyron nodded to her, and he offered her a pleasant smile. 
Aela thought that she might complain to him later about how often he had been
inviting these wretched people to the palace.  She had resigned herself to
handling the evening, when her eyes fell on the most horrific thing she could
have imagined.

There he sat, with his dark, nearly black hair,
olive-colored skin, and dark, dark blue eyes that reminded Aela too much of the
foxes that she’d chased with Taeru in her youth.  Vulpine was a perfect way to
describe this abomination, and he offered her a sly grin when she met his
eyes. 

Aela frowned almost instantly, and her eyes shot to her
father at once.  Veyron almost looked apologetic before he glanced away.  If
she had not been vocally disagreeable about being forced to marry, she had made
no qualms about letting everyone know that she would not be marrying Leif
Firenz.  He was a few years older than her, and when they were children, he was
the one that oftentimes spent evenings with her.

But he was a child—and he had yet to grow up.  He had messy
hair that he didn’t bother with, and his eyes seemed to constantly scour the
room for some kind of trouble to get into.  She swallowed, but Leif had stood
up.  “Lady Lassau,” he purred, “it has been too long.  One might say that you
are avoiding me.”

“One would be right,” she answered harshly.  A few of the
less proper nobles didn’t manage to withhold their laughter.  The others simply
found ways to occupy themselves so that they didn’t show it. 

Veyron let out a deep sigh and gestured for Aela to come to
the table.  She thought briefly of bolting from the room.  The last thing she
needed on this moon was this immature, pompous brat pestering her with all
sorts of questions.  And Leif would, because that was all Leif ever did.  He
asked questions—questions that bothered everyone and he didn’t care one little
bit.

He was nothing like a proper nobleman should be, and yet he
was certainly no street rat.  He was an interesting mix, and Aela hated him for
it.  Mostly because too many times in their childhood had Leif gotten the
better of her, and since then, she had made sure that she had always gotten the
better of him.  “You wound me, my lady,” he said cheerfully.

Aela didn’t think that she had wounded him at all, but not
wanting to irritate her father, she moved to the table to take her place.  Leif
and she played a game of cat and mouse with their eyes, as she did everything
in her power not to look at him, and he did everything in his to make her.

A few more nobles arrived, and fortunately, Ryo managed to
get there just a little before the last few.  That meant that father would have
no one to yell at later in the moon, and therefore the castle could be peaceful
and she might get to read a little more of her book. 

The meal started with a simple soup, with the servants
bustling in and out and filling drinks to the likings of the nobles.  Then, the
conversation started.  “We appreciate the invitation, my lord.  To what do we
owe the honor?”  One of the nobles spoke first.

Veyron smiled lightly.  Aela could guess that this had
something to do with Veyron’s recent messengers telling him that Lavus spoke
more of war than ever, and that it was nearly coming to its fruition.  “To have
a few friends over for dinner!” he said.  “Is that a crime?”

“A crime, no,” the man answered, “but I know you well enough
that you do not do things without thinking about them far too much.”

There was no denying that, though sometimes Aela wished
Veyron would give a little more thought to the things that mattered, and a
little less thought to the things that didn’t.  “Fair enough, Volpris, then I
shall enlighten you.”

The noble nodded, seemingly pleased with his ability to get
to the heart of the matter.  Aela didn’t think there was much reason for him to
be pleased.  After all, Veyron himself would have no doubt told them all within
the next course of the meal.  When Aela moved to survey the table, she had the
unfortunate luck of running into Leif’s eyes.  She diverted them instantly and
stared intently at her father.

“As you know, Dokak recently started an alliance with
Telandus,” Veyron said gravely.  Aela hadn’t the slightest idea why anyone
would want to do that, as Telandus had a reputation for destroying its
alliances the moment they weren’t needed anymore.

One of the nobles obviously shared her sentiment. 
“Magistrates know why!  The rulers of Dokak must have gone mad.  Telandus is a
plight on this land.  If I had my way, we would have attacked them long ago,”
he said shortly.

Ryo snorted and shook his head.  Aela couldn’t help but
think this must have been the reason that Taeru wanted to go.  If he had been
here, in this conversation now, Aela could picture him shifting, trying
desperately to think of words to say that would convince the others that Lavus
was a man—like any other.  “Lavus wants us to attack him, though,” Ryo said.

“My son does have a point,” Veyron agreed.  “I believe Lavus
feels that if I run my armies into him that he will get sympathy from some of
the nations that say they would never give it to him.  Believe me, Taran, I
would love to wipe that sniveling man from the land as well.”

This seemed to satiate the man well enough.  Nobles always
were that way—all they needed was to be patted on the head and told that their
opinions were good.  If that was done, then no noble would ever be displeased. 
“But Lavus continues to try our patience,” another man spoke then.  “First, he
taxed his goods so high that we forbade them through all of Cathalar, then he
had the audacity to take some of Elar’s farmlands!  In what world would any man
show him sympathy?”

“I believe you are right,” Veyron said.  “I think Lavus is
incorrect in his assumption, but I want to ensure that I know all of his traps
before I leap into battle.  He obviously wants it.”

“He must think he is ready,” one of the more subdued nobles
put in.  “We need a means of finding out more of why he is so prepared to go to
war.  Surely, he cannot honestly believe so certainly that he will be protected
by his neighbors.”

Aela pursed her lips as she regarded the conversation.  They
had considered sending spies into Telandus before, though nothing had ever come
of it.  She wondered why not, as she couldn’t think of any way for the Telandan
men to know whether or not someone was a Cathalari spy.  Though, the spy would
have to make due on their own, of course—as any goods would be confiscated. 
That was just the way of travelers, though, they carried little—and were always
ready to part with what they had.

Her panic upon seeing Taeru preparing to leave without the
slightest luxury was fast.  He’d taken a few loaves of bread, and a canteen of
water, but nothing more than that.  There was no way the supplies could have lasted
him for more than a cycle or two. 

Aela tuned back into the conversation in time to hear
mention of the spies about which she had been fantasizing.  No one ever wanted
to volunteer for the jobs, as nobles were too spoiled for it—and no one trusted
commoners with the task.  Soldiers didn’t have much experience surviving
without their armor and supplies, either. 

The silence was awkward, as everyone seemed to realize that
a spy was needed, but that none of them had the decency to volunteer.  Aela
couldn’t help thinking that Taeru would have volunteered, Veyron would have
said no—but he would have volunteered.  Ryo, on the other hand, probably didn’t
want to go.  He wasn’t the type for that kind of work.  Ryo was a much better
diplomat than Taeru or Aela would ever be, but his practical skills were
lackluster at best. 

“I’ll go,” the voice shocked her and, for once, she let her
eyes willingly move to Leif.

When everyone, including his own father stared at him in
stunned silence, Leif offered a wary smile.  “I’m known for being relatively
subtle, and I don’t doubt that I could make it to Telandus.  I’d have to find a
way to pay off the messengers to send reports, but I’m sure I could manage
that.”

For some reason, Aela was horrified at the concept of Leif,
Leif Firenz, running off to the middle of Telandus where anyone who knew who he
was would hang him in an instant.  She frowned deeply.  “You would make a
horrible spy,” she said, without checking her words.

Leif looked mildly offended at her statement, and he
regarded her abysmally for a few long moments.  “I would most certainly not,”
he finally said.  “I take most of your insults graciously, my lady, but this
one is off base.”

Aela knew it was, so there was no sense in arguing the
point.  But Leif couldn’t go off to Telandus—he could be killed!  She gritted
her teeth and forced herself into silence, as any further protest would bring
too much attention to herself.  “Leif is right,” Veyron said warily, “if you
would have it, Orale, he might be what we need.”