Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (15 page)

              “Yes.  The queen.  The horse you have in tow is named Lilly and she is the queen’s horse.”

              But the man was not completely swayed and he gave the queen a long look.  She was not dressed in elaborate royal garb, as one might expect a queen to dress.  She was in a simple light blue riding dress that anyone of nobility might own.

              “You may claim what you claim,” the man finally said.  “But I could claim to be the emperor of Taran.  And for all you’d know, I could be him.”

              “You do speak the truth, but we are who we say we are.  Shall we ride back together to the castle and have your proof?”

              “That would be the only fair thing to do,” the man acknowledged.

              “Yes,” Marik quickly countered.  “But we are in Karmon in the land of Queen Elissa Thorndale, and it is she who stands before you.  So we will take Lilly, and you will continue on to South Karmon.  And that is your only choice.”

              Queen Elissa dismounted and stepped forward, handing the reins of her horse to Marik.  “Lilly was given to a dear friend of mine to take while he traveled to Taran.  As much as I love the horse, I would like to hear of my friend.  So tell me, please, where did you find her?”

              One of the two men who had approached set the tip of his sword into the ground and said, “Tell her, Gallen, tell her where we found her.”

              Gallen, the merchant atop the wagon covered his sword.  “We found her some days ago.  Must be five days, now.  She was grazing in a meadow just east of the Fartail Forests.  The trade route to Karmon goes through there.  She had a saddle at the time, but it was useless.  Well, at least for us.”  After a moment, he added.  “I am sorry.”

              Elissa, her lip quivering, asked.  “My friend Conner?  Was he there?  Did you see him?”

              “No,” Gallen replied.  “There was no one.  Your horse was alone when we found her.”

              Marik turned to Elissa and said, “I am sure he is fine.  He is strong and resourceful.  Maybe he decided that he wanted to travel alone.  When he lived in Darkenwood, he traveled on foot.  It is much easier to travel the forests than on horseback.”

              Elissa held a hand over her mouth, trying to hold in the tears.  “No!  No, Conner would not leave Lilly.  She is a good horse.  He would not just leave her!”

              One of the other Taran merchants stepped forward.  He was a younger man, older than Conner, but younger than Marik.  His accent was thicker than the first merchant, and he struggled with words as they came out.  “Your friend Conner,” the man said.  “He is a knight, too?”

              Elissa shook her head.  “He is but a commoner.”

              “But he is the King Slayer?” the man asked.

              Marik turned towards the man and exclaimed, “The what?”

              Gallen answered.  “Just before we left Iseron, centurions had come from Tara City.  They filled the tavern we were staying at and when young soldiers drink, they love to talk.  It seems they were sent to Iseron to find a Karmon Knight by the name of Sir Conner.  They called him the King Slayer.”

              “Why?” Marik demanded harshly.  “Why did they want him?”

              Gallen held up his hands not wanting to feel the wrath of Marik.  “I don’t know.  I just overheard the centurions talking about it in the tavern.  I don’t know anything more than that.  This Sir Conner.  Who is he?”

              Marik turned to see Melanie pull Elissa away from the conversation.  She tried to comfort the queen, but Elissa started to uncontrollably sob.  “He is a friend.  A good friend.”

              “If it is indeed the queen’s horse, then it is hers for the taking,” Gallen said.  He glanced at his companions, and they were all nodding their heads.  “I am sorry we cannot give you more information about your friend.”

              Marik untied Lilly and the merchants climbed atop their wagons.  They shared a brief farewell before the wagons continued on to South Karmon.

              As Marik approached the girls, Elissa was still crying.

              “He cannot be dead!” Elissa exclaimed between sobs.

              Melanie stroked her hair and offered soft words of encouragement.

              But Marik was not having any of this nonsense.  Elissa was queen, and she needed to act like it.  People died every day.  Good people, people you cared about and loved.  But the kingdom was more important.  Regardless of who lived and who died, the kingdom always moved on.

“Enough of this!” Marik said firmly.  “You are the queen.  Now get over it!”

Elissa was frozen in shock.  With tears staining her cheek, she looked at him with fear in her eyes.  But the fear only lasted for a moment for anger came next.  Her eyes narrowed and she took in a deep breath.  “Sir Marik! How dare you speak to me in such manner?”

Marik replied, “I will speak to you in any manner that gets you to do your duty.  Friend or not, Conner is no long a part of your life right now.  You have a kingdom to run.  Your duty is here.” 

“Sir Marik,” Melanie said softly, her voice shaking.  “Are you not being harsh?  She just learned her beloved might be dead.”

Marik let out a sigh and shook his head.  Melanie might have been right, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit it.  She needed to get over Conner and quickly.  In another time or place, they might truly have been able to find love.  But their lives were now heading in two different directions and she needed to realize this sooner rather than later.

Elissa lifted her nose and looked at Marik and said, “I want you to go to Taran and find him.”

Marik took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, that would be a fool’s errand.  Taran is a vast empire and to find him would be like finding a needle in a hack stack.   And I am needed here.”

“It is my command,” Elissa said firmly.

“Queen Elissa…”

“You are no longer a knight.  You serve me, and I command that you go to Taran and find Conner.”

Marik started to protest, but he knew it was futile.  Indeed he now served the queen, and he could not refuse her commands.  “It is my duty to serve you, but going to Taran is really not wise.”

Elissa crossed her arms and glared at him through puffy and red eyes.  It gave her a sinister look.  “I demand you go.”

Marik did not want to go to Taran, especially with fall upon them.  And before too long, snow would be falling.  But he truly had no choice unless he wanted to defy the queen.  “Very well, I will go to Taran and find Conner.”

Elissa sniffled and said, “Thank you.”

Marik mounted his horse and took the reins of the riding horse that Elissa had ridden out on.  “We will return at once to the city and I will provision myself for the ride west.  But you have to promise me that you will not dwell on this.  You have a kingdom to run, and you cannot do it in mourning.”

“Of course,” Elissa said.  She easily mounted Lilly, and patted the white horse’s neck.  Lilly reacted by looking back at her and shaking her head.

Marik took a long look at Queen Elissa, once again realizing how young she truly was.  One moment she looked so strong and regal, and the next, she looked like a young child.  He was glad that they were finally at peace with their neighbors.  She needed to concentrate on learning how to be a good and just ruler and not having to worry about petty conflicts would help her focus on being queen.  Winter time was pretty quiet in the castle, so if there was any time for him to be gone, winter was the best.

Without another word spoken between them, Marik tapped his heals on the side of his horse and began trotting towards the city.

Chapter Thirteen

The anteroom that led to the emperor’s bedchamber was lavishly furnished with gold, gems, and jewel-encrusted furniture.  Much of the decorations were hardly functional, but they served the purpose of showing off the excess wealth of the emperor.  The emperor was sitting up in his plush bed, the bed covers pulled up to his chest.  His eyes looked straight ahead, staring off into nothingness.  A servant was spooning thick porridge into the emperor’s mouth.

              Prince Tarcious looked on from under the arched doorway that led into the bedroom.  It was becoming tedious to keep his brother alive.  His condition needed to be kept secret and that meant making sure that anyone who had loose lips met a punishing demise.  Coming up with newer and better ways to torture those who failed him was the only enjoyable part of this game that he was playing.  He tried to keep servants around as long as he could, but eventually, they would talk to the wrong person or irritate him enough that they would be required to be disposed of.  He never knew their names and he hardly talked to them.  In his mind, he didn’t think of them as men, but only as tools that could easily be tossed away.

              Gossiping was the most offensive crime.  If even one of the regional governors knew that the emperor was incapacitated, all the work that he had built would be for naught.  There would be open rebellion, possibly a civil war over the throne, and a general mess that would distract him from his intended goal.  So to keep mouths shut, he kept the emperor’s gold coins flowing and used fear and intimidation.

              Word had spread quickly.  Cross the prince and you were dead.  It had been some time since he had to dispose of a chatty servant.  He had not decided if that was good or bad.

A tingling sensation at the base of his neck startled him.  It was a feeling that he had not had for many months, but it was one that he both feared and looked forward to.  Each time he felt it, he was reminded of the first time that he experienced it.  He had been serving his brother’s every whim, doing his dirty work and never getting credit for it.  At the time, it did not really occur to him how he was being used by his brother.  He was the bad guy, the one that everyone hated, while Emperor Hargon was the beloved one that everyone looked up to.  Over the past two years, that impression had not really changed.  He was still hated, and his brother was still loved.  But the difference was that he was in control and made the decisions that directed the empire.  Hopefully soon he would be able to get out from the shadows and be recognized for the leader that he truly was.

He left the emperor’s apartment and walked quickly to his own living quarters.  It was not nearly as extravagant as what the emperor lived in, but it served its purpose.  There was a bed, a handful of chests for his clothes, a couch, a table, and chair.  All the furniture was exquisitely handcrafted, but it lacked the fine gems and jewels that the emperor had covering his furniture.  If he wanted more luxurious furniture, he could have it, but it didn’t really matter to him.

In the center of the room was a plush rug that Prince Tarcious flung aside as soon as he walked in.  Underneath was a large faded circle drawn by his own blood.  The first time he drew the circle, he had nearly died.  He had cut too deeply into his wrist and he could not get the bleeding to stop.  It was only when his master had interceded that his life was saved.  The words of that first spell had come to him while he was lying on the floor, blood pulsing out of his wrist.  The words were spoken and for the first time, he felt the incredible power of magic flowing through his body.

The magic was like a narcotic that he could just not get enough of.  But he also knew that he couldn’t use it too much, or use it too often.  If he did, the power of magic would consume him and he would die a horrible and painful death.  It was frustrating for him to feel the power, and know the power, and not be able to use it.  But that was the first lesson of his master, to have the discipline to use magic only up to his ability.

He pulled a small knife from the folds of his robe and cut deeply into his wrist.  As the blood oozed out, he quickly went around the circle, smearing his blood on the cold, stone floor.  The moment he was done, he sat on the ground and closed his eyes, the words of the healing spell quickly coming to his lips.  He could not dally, or he would bleed out.  But he also needed to be deliberate about invoking the spells because he only had one shot to get it right.  The moment that the last of the spell left his lips, he could feel it work.  His hand burned slightly, enough that he felt it, but not enough for it to hurt.  It was an easy spell on a relatively small wound, so it did not take much strength from him.

With his wrist fully healed, he stood and positioned himself in the center of the circle.  He closed his eyes and waited.

He did not have to wait very long before he felt his master’s presence.

Prince Tarcious rose to a knee, and said, “My master, my lord and protector.  The Grand Adversary of the Other.  I am at your bidding.”

“You are unworthy of me!”  The voice boomed loudly in his head.  The echo of the words lasted for several seconds.

Prince Tarcious tried to keep himself from shaking.  Fear was not something he was used to receiving; it was something he was used to dishing out.  He could feel the power that came from the god that was now in his presence.  It was the same power that he felt himself as he was casting his own spells, but magnified many times.  The power was nearly unimaginable.  Nearly.  He could imagine himself wielding such power.  It was that thought alone that kept the fear from overtaking him.

With a steady voice, Prince Tarcious replied, “Of course, my master.  I serve your needs.”

“The Ark of Life is far from here,” the voice said.  “I feel its presence, and I can feel that it is far away.”

“I have been unable to retrieve it.  I know where it is, but my first attempt to take it failed.  I am working on another attempt to get it.”

“Your time is almost up.  My existence may be infinite, but my patience is not.  There are forces at play that your puny mind could never comprehend.”

“The Ark is well hidden and well protected.  It must be taken through stealth, not force.  It takes time to put together a plan…”

“There is no time!” the voice shouted back, knocking Prince Tarcious to the ground.

The prince stood up and returned to a bowed knee.  “If I were to march my army upon the city that protects the Ark, the protector will use it on my army.  Our simple weapons are no match for the power of the Ark.  I cannot take it by force, it can only be taken through stealth and deceit.”

“The Great Battle of the Age of Man is coming upon us,” the voice said.  “Soon there will be a new age, and it will be the Age of Power reborn.  I will come to earth and lead my warriors in battle, and I will do so wielding the Ark of Life!”

Prince Tarcious looked up, as if the Adversary were standing right before him.  “Come here?  To Earth?”

“Man has floundered for centuries.  It is time for a change, and that change will happen with our victorious army.  Have you not witnessed the sign?”

“The star that does not move?”

“It is a sign for all the races to see, a call to arms.  It signals the beginning of the end of the Age of Man.  Man will not survive the battle.  Upon your victory, man will be enslaved, as they have always meant to be.  A select few will rise above your lowly existence and will be granted the favor of everlasting life.  Only those who show favor during this time before the battle will be granted this special honor.  If you are to be one of those, then you must not fail your task.”

              “I will not fail in this.  I will bring war upon the Karmons and take the Ark from them.  I will prove to you that I am worthy.”

              “Show me your book”

              Tarcious was surprised at the sudden command, but he quickly obeyed and nervously pulled out the leather-bound book that never left his side.  Every robe, cloak, and outer garment he owned had an inside pocket where he could keep the book right next to his side.  The cover was well-worn and faded from time.  Inside, the pages were thick and stiff.

              “Open it,” the voice demanded.

              Carefully, Tarcious pulled open the front cover exposing the first page.  Symbols and letters from a language long extinct were burned into the page.  His eyes scanned the strange characters and his lips started to repeat the words.  A tingling started at the back of neck and he knew that he needed to stop.  He knew the words as he had committed them to memory.  But there was a certain draw to speaking them as if he were being pulled into the book itself.  He quickly flipped the pages, passing the easy spells that he had already committed to memory, and then onto the harder spells that took an enormous amount of concentration and effort to memorize.

              He turned to the twelfth page, which was the last one with writing on it.  With child-like excitement, he turned the page to the blank page behind it.  For a moment, he waited for the symbols and letters to appear as they had in the past.  But nothing happened.  As he gained power, ability, and strength, the words of a more powerful spell would suddenly appear.  The first time it had happened to him, he excitedly paged through the book, hoping that more spells would appear.  But it was an agonizingly slow process for the spells to be revealed.  Not only did he first have to memorize what was there, he had to practice them and gain confidence and power.  There was no explanation as to when the next spell would appear, it just did so when he was ready for it.

              The book suddenly became warm to the touch and he almost dropped it.  As he looked down, wondering why it suddenly got warm, letters and symbols were suddenly being written on the page.  It was different than when they had appeared before.  Instead of just appearing onto the page, fading into existence, these characters were appearing as if someone with a burning stick was writing them.  The page sizzled as the spell was cast onto paper, each letter being burned into the page with painstaking perfection.

              Most of the spells had some words in common and he was beginning to recognize them.  But he did not recognize any of the words that the burned characters were forming.  He watched in silence as the writing of the spell continued to burn to the end of the page.

              “What is this?” Tarcious asked.

              “Your failures have made it necessary for me to provide you with more help.  I cannot send my own forces to the earth, or the Creator would send his own forces to meet mine.  And I am not ready to do battle.  Soon enough, when I have the Ark, I will be ready.  But your weakness is disturbing and I do not have any other choice.  I have spent considerable time and power training you and I see that I must now give you even more.  This spell is like nothing you have ever cast before.  It is not a spell of power, but a spell of control.  The power spells that you have been taught are easy and get easier the more that you use them.  These spells of control are difficult and never get any easier.  It will take all your concentration to cast them and it will drain every ounce of power that you have.  Do not cast any spells before this one, until you have fully recovered.  If you do so, then you will not have the power to cast it, and it will consume you and you will die.”

              “Of course.”

              “And if you die, you will come face to face with me, and I can promise you that an eternity of my wrath is beyond your comprehension.”

              Tarcious shuddered at the thought.  With forced courage, he asked, “What is the spell?”

              “Thousands of years ago, when man was strong in the power, they built cities that were so large that your Tara City would look like a village next to these.  They were made from stone cut from the mountains far to the west and hauled hundreds of miles across open steppes and through dense forests.  These cities did not take decades to build, but months.  The human mages gained control of an ancient race of beings called Stone Ogres to build their cities.  These giants were as strong as a hundred ox and could run faster than the fastest horse.  Over time, though, the Stone Ogres tired of being slaves and rebelled.  A war ensued where man and elves fought side-by-side to defeat these creatures.  But they were not easily killed.  Only a clean cut of their heads could kill them, and even then, they would continue to fight for many minutes before they would finally fall.  When the war was won, the elves, against the wishes of man, cast an enchantment upon the remaining ogres, sending them into an infinite sleep underneath the mountains.  Man wanted the ogres conquered and put back into slavery, but the elves would have none of it.  This was one of the many disagreements that would ultimately lead to war between man and elves.”

              “So this spell, it can release the enchantment?”

              “Each time it is invoked, one or two ogres will be released from their captivity and will answer your call.  Whether they listen and obey you is another question.  Cast the spell wisely.  You do not want a hundred ogres running around, for you do not have the power to control them all.  A mage of your ability could control no more than one or two.  This is the last help of mine that you will receive.  If you fail with all that I have given you now, then you will never succeed.  If that happens, then I will chose another.”

“My lord…” Prince Tarcious had more to say, more questions to ask, but he could no longer feel the power of the Adversary.  Keeping his mind clear of any thoughts, he stepped outside of the circle.  Only then did he allow himself to ponder the words that he had just heard.