Divided (69 page)

“The desperation to want what is unattainable, and the
power to rewrite a story were his power.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.ii

The fact that it was a Telandan messenger made it that much
easier to ignore. The man who stood before Veyron and Ryo seemed
uncomfortable.  “Sir,” the man said, “I’m aware that it’s unorthodox, but he
will not leave.  He claims he must speak with you.  We need your orders to kill
him.”  The man dropped his head apologetically.  The throne room was silent,
with assorted men and women staring at this intruder.

Ryo was certain that his father was going to issue the
order.  The messenger would be killed, and that would be the end of it.  After
all, surely it was just another declaration from Telandus attempting to rile
Veyron’s feathers.  Ryo watched his father intently.  Veyron’s brown eyes were
flickering with consideration, apparently he wouldn’t be making this decision
as quickly as Ryo assumed. 

Rightly so, perhaps, as Aela had only recently disappeared. 
Oh no, Aela… Aela, no! 
Ryo’s heard pounded with the new realization. 
She had gone with the others to Telandus, and it had been phases sense they had
heard from the caravan.  She would have gone to Telandus—what if they had
discovered her?  Ryo felt sick.  This must be about Aela.  “Aela,” he whispered
warily.  A few people glanced at him, but they clearly hadn’t heard what he
said.  Veyron’s eyes had changed to look at his son, though, and he had heard.

Indistinctly, he nodded, and then he stared at the man who
had interrupted the throne room’s normal proceedings.  “You were right to bring
this to me, Rathe.  Ready my horse, I will go meet this messenger personally.” 
Rathe seemed a little proud of himself, and he scurried out of the throne room
to obey the orders.  “Everyone, resume your activities—I will return once this
matter is dealt with.  Ryo, come with me.”

“Of course, Father.”  Ryo bowed his obligation and followed
Veyron out the door of the throne room.  Neither of them spoke, as there was no
need.  Telandus had not sent a messenger to Cathalar in some time, and the odds
that this was coincidence were too small to imagine.  Veyron was walking
stiffly, and he disposed of his cape in the foyer before they headed out to get
on the horses.

Ryo didn’t like capes, and so he didn’t wear them.  There
was no need to dispose of anything that did not exist, so he followed Veyron
mutely.  “I hope she’s alright,” Ryo finally ventured, unable to take the
silence.  His mind was threatening to explode with worry.  His little sister,
stuck in Telandus, no doubt being tortured and—no, no, Ryo could not let his
mind go there.  He would kill Lavus himself.  Lavus and both of his worthless
children.

“I will have no choice, Ryo, you understand.  If my daughter
is at that brute’s mercy—then we will go to war.”  There was no arguing with
that.  Aela was far too important to worry with Taeru’s tiny warnings in the
back of Ryo’s head—warding him against war.  Taeru would go to war for Aela,
and Ryo knew that.

Ryo offered a weak smile as he climbed atop his brown
horse.  The horse seemed gratified that he was on it, which certainly meant
that one of the guards had been riding it recently.  “I don’t think even Taeru
would argue with that, Father,” Ryo answered swiftly.

“I know he wouldn’t,” Veyron said without hesitation.  They
headed towards the front of the city.  Reaching the gates of Cathalar did not
require a walk through Lower Town, as Veyron hadn’t wanted all travelers to
feel confined to that section of the city.  Lower Town wasn’t completely
disastrous, but most travelers found it less appealing than Upper.  They moved
through the walled-in area, a straight shot to the city gates.

Walking the entirety of Cathalar would have taken shifts,
but the king had designed this walk so that the front gates could be reached from
the castle with relative haste.  The entire city was a circle, the innermost
was Upper Town, filled with fanciful buildings and riches.  The outer circle
was Lower Town, where the middle and lower class lived.  The buildings there
were formidable, and certain parts were even worthy of nobility, though none of
the snobs would dare to go there.  Lower Town was, above anything else, the
less prestigious part of Cathalar.  Aela had loved it there, Ryo thought with a
pang.  So had Taeru for that matter.  Oh, he missed them—both of them. 

Taeru, what would you say now?  Would you understand?  I
know you’d never let harm come to Aela.  Though, you’d probably insist on going
yourself on some heroic mission.  I’m sure I could persuade you to let me go
with you, though. 
Ryo smiled fondly at the thought of his brother.  The
pain accompanied with the memories was hard to cope with, but he managed.

A circle of horses traveled with Ryo and his father.  They
rode in silence, surrounding the two of them.  Rathe was one of them.  “How
long has the man been here, Rathe?” Veyron asked. 

“Not long,” Rathe said.  “About a shift.”

“Good,” Veyron answered swiftly.  Rathe nodded as they
continued their path.  Ryo could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  What if
they came to say Aela was dead? 
No, no, surely they wouldn’t do that. 
Surely, they wouldn’t kill a little girl!  Please, no.
Aela… oh Aela.

They hurried on, and eventually, the front gates of the city
came into view.  There were several guards standing about it, all looking a mix
of disconcerted and angry.  They were surrounding a central point, which Ryo
assumed would yield the Telandan messenger.  The guards all swarmed outwards,
to make a path for the newcomers.  They bowed their greeting to Veyron and
Ryo.  Veyron’s grand horse moved to the front of the circle—all black and
frightening.  Ryo felt a little small next to it, really.  When his father
dismounted, he followed suit, though it did little to soothe his feelings of
inadequacy.

He stepped up beside his father, though, and then he got a
glance at the messenger.  The man was sickly pale, as were all Telandans.  His
hair was a brown so light that it may as well be about to gray, though his face
was relatively young.  His yellow horse looked a little ready to fall over
dead, and Ryo assumed that this man had made fantastic time.  The messenger did
not bow to the king or the prince.  Instead, he narrowed his eyes.  “I come of
a cycle’s ride from Telandus to deliver a message to his highness,” the man
said sharply.

“His highness is here, fool, deliver your message.” 
Veyron’s voice was tight, filled with venom that was just waiting to spew onto this
man and destroy him.  Ryo thought he would enjoy the sight of this sniveling
messenger melting to the ground where he stood. 

The messenger twitched a little at the disguised insult.  “I
come bearing news of one of your children, sir,” the man retorted.  Ryo’s heart
sank.  Aela.  His body felt as though it was going to convulse, that or it
might just explode.  Surely, they hadn’t killed her.  Aela was too young—she
was no threat to anyone.

“And what is that?”

“His majesty would like you to know that he has found your
lost son.”  That was not at all what Ryo had expected.  Nausea pooled in his
stomach, and Veyron glanced back to Ryo quickly.  Their eyes flickered with
uncertainty.  So, this wasn’t about Aela.  This was about Taeru.  Ryo’s heart
had not slowed down, and oddly enough, he felt as though it had sped up. 
Taeru—what
have you gotten yourself into?

Veyron frowned, and for a long moment, he said nothing.  The
guards seemed to be holding their breaths.  Whereas, Aela’s disappearance was
recent, and not widely known, everyone knew that Taeru had disappeared all
those years ago.  And Taeru, even more than Aela, was well-liked.  The idea
that he was the subject of this sent a sort of chill across every man standing
there.  “Has he?” Veyron asked dryly.

“Yes, he is in Telandus.  Until very recently, we hadn’t the
slightest idea who he was.  But, by a stroke of luck, we were able to find
out.  His majesty would like you to know that he is taking the utmost care with
your son, and he will continue to unless you can be bothered to retrieve him.” 
The man chuckled, with a dark sound echoing through it.  “Oh, and if you want
proof…”  He reached into his pocket and brandished a small ring.  A silver one.

Ryo’s eyes widened as he stared at the ring, and the
sapphire that sat on the outside of it.  He couldn’t contain his sharp
exhalation of air, though, when he saw the dried blood all along one side of
the ring—some of it having just reached the sapphire.  “Taeru,” Ryo choked, and
he staggered back, putting a hand over his mouth.

The messenger smirked towards Ryo, and then his attention
returned to Veyron.  Unfortunately, this was different.  Aela had not formally
renounced her royal name.  She had not left with any sort of formality.  Taeru
had taken all obligation from his father, renounced his name, publicly,
openly.  He had apologized, and he had torn himself from their family.  Taeru
was not, by law, Veyron’s son.  Veyron knew that, and he knew that he had no
obligation to pursue this.  After all, Taeru Lassau wasn’t his little girl. 
Taeru had, by any stretch of the imagination, gotten himself into this.

Perhaps Veyron wouldn’t pursue it.  He stared at the
messenger impassively, and Ryo couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  Veyron was
not the type to withhold his emotions when he had them, so this probably meant
that Veyron wasn’t feeling much of anything.  But Taeru.  Ryo couldn’t bear the
thought of leaving his brother in Lavus’s hands.  A million memories assaulted
him.  The little boy that Ryo had chased around for shifts, begging him to
stop, and laughing because he enjoyed it.  The boy who had shooed Ryo off to
fraternize with girls while he took care of Aela.  The boy that Aela had loved,
worshipped, and the man that had stood in front of a court of men and claimed
with no uncertainty that Ryo would make a king like none before him.  Taeru
Lassau.

Ryo had always let his mind have peace, knowing that his
brother was more formidable than any other person he’d ever met.  He had always
assured himself that wherever Taeru was, he was happy, and he was safe.  Seeing
the blood on that ring, Ryo felt bile rising in his throat. 
Why were you in
Telandus, brother?  Why?

The memory played back across his brain, standing at the
door of Taeru’s room as he gathered his things. 
“Brother, where are you
going?  Why are you leaving?  We need you in Cathalar.  Everyone here adores
you.”

“I can’t stay, Ryo.  There is… I’m supposed to leave.  I
can’t stop this war in Cathalar.  Father grows angrier by the sun.  You too, I
see it in your eyes.  I don’t blame you.  I just… I feel like if I go… get away
from this, then… maybe… you will make a wonderful king, brother.”

“Taeru… I will miss you.”

“And I, you.”

“Aela…”

“I know…”

Ryo closed his eyes, fighting off the thoughts.  For the
first time, Ryo realized that he was glad that his sister was not here.  She
would not have been able to bear this.  He didn’t want to imagine her reaction
to this.  “Taeru is not a prince of Cathalar, not anymore.  Lavus has nothing,”
one of the guards sneered.  An obvious defense, but Veyron’s eyes moved to him
briefly.  Echoing his thoughts, perhaps?

“It is your choice, of course.  I doubt he will live to see
you arrive even if you do.  His majesty doesn’t much like hi—augh…”  The man’s
mouth fell open, just as Veyron’s sword cut through his throat. 

“For every harm that my son has come to,
every
soul
in Telandus will suffer it a million times over.”  Blood spilled from the
messenger’s lips, and with one slice, Veyron decapitated the messenger. 

A few of the guards gasped, and a few of them laughed, and
all of them applauded briefly.  “Anaval,” Veyron said suddenly, “gather your
things, take this man’s head and deliver it to the guards of Telandus.  Tell
them to present it to their king.  And that his precious war is upon him.”

“Right away, sir,” the messenger bowed his head and hurried
his horse back towards the castle, no doubt to prepare.

“The rest of you, prepare for war—you will not remain here
much longer.  Taeru Lassau is as much my son as Ryo, all of his honor and then
some could not change that.”  Veyron trembled with anger.  “Ryo, the choice is
yours, I can’t leave this city unattended.  Either I remain and you lead the
charge, or you remain and I will.”

“He is my little brother,” Ryo said, and his words were so
filled with agony and passion that he hardly recognized it.

Veyron nodded his head in understanding.  “Then, I only ask
that you let me see him again.”

“As you say, my lord,” Ryo said, with a quick bow.  There
was a quick admiration for his father, and then he mounted and started back
towards the castle.

My little brother—at Lavus Tsrali’s mercy.
Ryo felt
sick, and he felt faint.  The most agonizing of all thoughts.  How had Taeru
ended up in this situation?  What had he done?  Taeru wasn’t careless, so he
must have done this out of necessity. 
I love you, brother.  Please, please,
hold on.

“To show a love so powerful was dangerous and fantastic.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.ii

Lee was miserable.  On every possible account, he was
miserable—and he had been that way for nearly two cycles.  The shock of seeing
Calis, his friend, bound and jerked around like a ragdoll had been jarring
enough, but Lee had been foolishly worried enough to go to the dungeon.  Seeing
Taeru Lassau’s quivering form whimpering and keening as Tareth broke every bone
in his hand—had left Lee sleepless for several moons.

Sleeplessness, however, was not alright.  Ordinarily, he
would have used it to be productive, but there seemed to be nothing he could do
to help Calis or Taeru.  Lavus would not let him see Calis—they had no rapport. 
Lavus did not trust Lee, not much, anyway.  Lee had never seen a reason to try
and gain the monster’s trust.  But now, he needed it.  He needed access to
Calis’s room, since there was no way in the world he would get Taeru out of
that guard-riddled dungeon.

Lee knew he was running out of time.  The messenger from
Cathalar had arrived last moon, and as predicted, Veyron was livid at the
capture of his son.  Lee was glad to know that one of the rulers of either of
the elite lands had a heart.  Taeru—of all people—did not deserve torture.  His
only fault was being naïve and foolish.  He should never have risked speaking
those words so publicly.  Taeru, though, was not deceitful, he had done nothing
but good for Telandus since he had arrived.  And he had done nothing but good
for Calis.  Oh, Calis must be miserable.

Lee could only be grateful for the fact that Lavus had not
subjected his son to witnessing Taeru’s torture.  Surely, though, Calis’s mind
was more than handling that. 

Lee was at a loss.  The war would soon be upon them, and
Taeru would be hanged—if Lee couldn’t figure something out.  He needed to
establish trust with Lavus, but he didn’t know how.  He had given every piece
of information that he could to try and gain it.  Well, save one.  Save one
because he’d known that the information would condemn Taeru to torture so much
worse than what he currently faced.

The Phantom Blade.  The information would be relevant, and
Lavus would like to know it.  Lavus, after all, did know that there was a
vigilante.  He had eyes and ears in nearly as many places as Lee did.  A good
thing, then, that he had not come to the conclusion that Lee had recently. 
Taeru was not the only Lassau in Telandus—his sister was here too.  Her mission
a little less altruistic, but understandable.  She had disappeared from
Cathalar recently, and the guards had been unable to find her.

Lee knew where she was, but that information was far too
sacred to reveal.  Aela was too precious to be captured, and Lee knew that. 
After all, who condemned a girl to torture?  Then again, he felt as though he’d
condemned Taeru to it—and he was going to have to start it all over again.  The
information on the Phantom Blade was the only card he had left—and he had to
play it.  Taeru might take more of a beating, but if Lee said nothing, then
Taeru would die and the war would move forward, unhindered.

That was it—he had to tell Lavus what he knew.  Without
another thought, he abandoned his room, glancing warily towards the two guards
that were stationed outside of Calis’s. 
Oh, Calis… please forgive me. 
Grabbing
the first servant he saw, Lee spoke with undeniable authority.  “Go retrieve
his majesty.  Tell him Lee Keiichi has very relevant information, and that I
will meet him in the throne room.”

The servant nodded his agreement and hurried off down the
hall.  Lee moved to the throne room as quickly as he could.  He tried to force
the image of the crying Taeru from his mind, but it continued to flash before
his eyes.  To no one’s surprise, Taeru had revealed nothing.  Even under the
most gruesome of tortures, he had said nothing.  Lee doubted Lavus would
deliver to Taeru how angry Veyron had apparently been upon discovery that his
son was in trouble.  The messenger’s head was a bit excessive, if Lee had been
handling the situation—but it made its point.

In addition, the Cathalari messenger had been much more
intelligent.  He had delivered the goods in a box, with the message, and he had
vanished before anyone realized what was in it.  Unlike the Telandan messenger,
whose head had been sent back in a box.  Did Cathalar have superior everything,
Lee wondered?  Rather, perhaps Cathalar just wasn’t as arrogant as Telandus
was, which was the reason for their superior strength.

The majority of the reason that everyone knew Cathalar would
win the war, was that everyone realized that the other nations would come to
Cathalar’s aid—not Telandus’s.  And now Lavus was torturing an innocent boy in
the dungeon to try and exact his revenge on Cathalar before the war ever
started.  Lee could only imagine how frightened Taeru must be by this point,
and yet he remained silent. 

As time passed, Lee found himself hoping that Tareth would
not accompany his father to the throne room.  He would, though, because he
wanted to be involved in this.  Though, despite his best efforts, Lavus was not
showing him much favor.  Granted, he wasn’t locked in his room like his
brother—but even now, he was considered the lesser man.  And he was, so that
was one thing that Lavus got correct. 

Tareth would come, though, and that was what Lee was
concerned about.  Lavus wouldn’t be overly concerned with Taeru’s role as the
Phantom Blade, and his trust in Lee would soar for it.  But Tareth, Tareth
would want revenge against the brave vigilante that had made him a fool so many
times.  Taeru was going to be in a much greater amount of danger after Lee relayed
this information, so he would have to use his newfound trust against Lavus
quickly.  The problem was—he couldn’t simply give the information and then ask
to be let into Calis’s room.  That was pathetically obvious.  Lee took a long
breath.  Calis’s glare flickered through his head, and he ignored it. 
It’s
this or let him die, Calis.  This is the only choice I have.

A few moments later, Lavus entered, followed by his weak-minded
son.  Lee’s mouth twitched downward into a grimace.  There went any false hope
he’d been clinging to.  Oh well, not as though Lavus wouldn’t have relayed the
information.  Both of their eyes were on Lee, though Lavus’s gaze was the only
one that held any merit.  Lee held his eyes firmly and strongly.  “Your
majesty,” he said with an overly formal bow.  He wished he’d had more practice
at this sort of behavior.

“What is this about, Keiichi?  Have you discovered another
piece of information?”  Lee’s eyes flickered idly to the amulet still hanging
about Tareth’s neck.  Still there—was Tareth really such a fool?  Lee was
glad.  “Have you come across something else?” Lavus persisted.

“No, my lord.  I’m afraid I have been withholding a piece of
information from you.  I was hoping Prince Calis would come around, but as it
appears that he will do no such thing, I feel the burden of this falls to me.”

They both looked interested, Lavus’s eyes were burning. 
This would do it—Lee would get access to Calis by telling them this.  This
information would hurt Taeru, it would hurt him badly, and they knew that Lee
knew it.  He took a breath, swallowing any reservations that he had.  He had to
keep this boy alive.  Lee only wished that it wasn’t at the cost of the young
prince’s welfare.  “Speak freely, and I appreciate your understanding,” Lavus
said.  He sounded much less cold than usual.

“Taeru Lassau, or Kilik, as he was known in Dark District…
is more than you think he is.  He is the vigilante that has been causing
problems to the nobles that have gone to Dark District.  The Phantom Blade.” 
Oh, the words tasted terribly in his mouth.  And the look in Tareth’s eyes. 
The smug, sadistic, cruel satisfaction playing in his eyes.  Lee wanted it
back—he needed another way.  He hadn’t expected that, not to such a degree.

Tareth, with that look still holding true, turned to his
father.  “You may not be informed of this boy.  He is a…”

“Oh, do not be a fool, Tareth.  I have eyes and ears all
throughout this city.  That is why it is mine.  I know of this boy.  I know
that he has embarrassed you on multiple occasions.”  Tareth flushed.  Lee
couldn’t even bring himself to be satisfied—after all, Taeru was in the
dungeon, the perfect scapegoat upon which Tareth could extract his vengeance. 

Tareth shifted uncomfortably.  “Apologies, Father.  But,
will you at least understand my need to exact revenge upon him, then?” 
Tareth’s voice was fearful, which was bad, as Lavus would feed on that.

After a few moments, Lavus chuckled darkly.  “Certainly,
Tareth.  Handle him for the sun.  Try not to let him make a fool of you again. 
And, if his submission comes from this—then, perhaps I will name you crown
prince.”  A strangled noise escaped Lee’s throat, and he had to cover it up as
a cough.

No, Lavus would never give Tareth the title, and Tareth
would never gain submission—but oh, that would mean he’d try harder.  The gleam
in his eyes was terrifying.  “I will not disappoint you, Father.”

“I’m fairly sure you will,” Lavus said.  Tareth flinched,
but he was too fueled by what the next sun would bring to fall far.  “And Keiichi,
I had misgivings about you, as you were the advisor to my less than dependable
son, but you have more than proven yourself a trustworthy and valuable asset.” 
Lee nodded—the answer he’d been hoping for—but it was scarcely much consolation,
now.  “Tareth, be effective, if you can manage—we are running out of time, as I
estimate the army will arrive in a little over another cycle.”

There had to be somewhere Lee could stay nearby.  He had to
make sure this didn’t go too badly.  As of right now, he had no reason to
request to see Calis, and until he thought of one—he was at a loss.  He bowed,
as Tareth headed back out of the room. 
Taeru… Calis, I’m so sorry.