Suriax (6 page)

“Royal Guard,” the man behind the door
called.

Kern pleaded silently. Walking around the
mess in the room, she made her way to the door, never taking her
eyes off him until she cracked the door open. “Yes, can I help
you?”

“We’re looking for a man, half elf, who was
seen around here.”

“Oh, my, what is he wanted for?” She asked
with all sincerity.

“He is wanted by the queen for
questioning”

“Well, I haven’t seen anything.”

“Ma’am, your neighbors heard some strange
noises coming from your apartment. If I could just . . .” he tried
to push his way in, but she didn’t budge.

“That was just me. I’m not as graceful as I
used to be. Tripped on my rug coming into the living room and
knocked over some things. Caused quite a mess, I’m afraid. If you’d
like to help me clean . . .”

Her invitation had the desired effect. The
guard mumbled a vague excuse and left. Kern waited until he
couldn’t hear anyone outside before moving. “Thank you for not
telling him I was here.”

The woman waved his thanks away. “What did
you do to get the Royal Guard on your back? And how did you find
yourself falling through my roof . . . which you will be paying to
repair, of course.”

“Of course,” he dusted his pants off. “I saw
the guard and tried to bide my time hiding in the tree branches
above your home. Misjudged the strength of one, and you know the
rest.”

She nodded. “There were a few branches hit by
lightning in the last storm. You probably stepped on one of those.
And why did you need to hide in the first place?”

“You’re probably better off not knowing.”

“Fair enough.”

Kern cracked the front door and looked for
any sign of the guard. Pulling a coin purse out of his bag, he
handed it to the woman. “This should cover the repairs.” He thought
for a moment and considered his options. “You wouldn’t happen to
know a quiet way into Aleria?”

The old lady grinned. “That will be
extra.”

A few hours later, Kern was hiding in a
carriage carrying fruit and goods, riding over the bridge to
Aleria. Once they were through the second gate, the driver, the old
lady’s neighbor, lifted the blanket covered in produce and let him
out. He chastised himself that he hadn’t thought to check with a
fruit vendor sooner. The Guard used them so often to courier
messages discretely between the cities, such correspondences were
known as “sending a cabbage.” Of course he never knew they also
transported people.

Kern looked around the city. He never took
any jobs in Aleria, at his uncle’s request, so this was a first for
him. From the gate he could see the edge of a park. Both cities
boasted parks at their center. With a large population of elves and
half elves who favored being around nature, parks, homes and
businesses built within trees and other plant life were common. But
from his limited view, he could see Aleria’s park was easily four
times that of Suriax’s. Unable to help himself, he walked around
there, first. At the center of the park was a gazebo larger than
most homes. It was decorated in flowers and ribbons. Chairs lined
one side. Kern climbed a fairly large hill and looked around. You
could see most of the city from there. The palace was north. To the
east was a theater surrounded by inns and taverns. Whereas most
people who visited Suriax came for the pit fighting or hound races,
Aleria was known for its magnificent plays and music. Years of
planning went into each production, and those who saw the plays
talked about them endlessly for months afterwards. He heard they
once recreated a battle at sea by flooding an inner level of the
theater tree. The audience watched from seats nested among the
branches. He always wanted to come here and view a show. Maybe he
could bring his uncle to one later.

Kern looked back at the palace. It couldn’t
hurt to look around the city a little on his way there. He was very
curious about this place that could have been his home. Sliding
down the hill, he headed for the street.

* * *

Maerishka entered the temple and bowed
respectfully. She began her study with the clerics at a young age.
Her father insisted on it, convinced pushing his daughter to
worship Venerith would cause the god to bestow blessings upon him.
That was before her parent’s conspired to kill her. Few people knew
the entire story as to why she killed her parents. Veritan was a
suspicious man. He grew to fear she would follow the example of her
half siblings and have him overthrown. Her mother did not believe
him at first, but he sowed the seeds of doubt and led her to seek a
divination to learn if she would ever betray them. The answer was a
simple “yes.” Instantly, she made plans to have Maerishka murdered
on her daily ride to the country. What she did not know was that a
maid overheard her plans and warned Maerishka. Ironically, it was
their plans to kill her that led to her betrayal. She never
considered it before, but as much as she loved her parents, self
preservation won out. So, she poisoned their drinks and took the
throne at a mere fifty years of age. Her method of attaining the
throne was enough to help her keep it at first. No one wanted to
cross someone cold enough to kill her own parents for power. No one
else needed to know it was really out of self defense. To keep the
throne, she had to become the conniving, calculating, power hungry
woman they all believed her to be. It was exhausting, but she grew
used to it. Now, she would stop at nothing to keep her throne.
Anything less was not an option.

Kneeling by the alter, she made her customary
sacrifice and prayed for guidance and blessings. Her stomach
churned. Who dare think they could take her throne? She made Suriax
what it was today. She pushed everyone to innovate, to be their
best. Every job was important. The farmers created more efficient
means to grow and harvest food. The architects were challenged to
design creative and impossible buildings to withstand weather and
push the envelope artistically. The magi were pushed to develop
more powerful spells. Despite Suriax’s reputation for its
questionable laws, her people were respected for their skills and
often sought after for jobs all across the continent. She would not
allow anyone to take what she built away from her.

“My Lord, hear my prayers. I have served you
faithfully and will continue to do so until my dying breath. I
shaped this kingdom and all her citizens to honor you. Everything I
do is to honor you. This city belongs to you and you alone. Take
her and all Suriaxians. I ask only that I am allowed to lead them,
to spread your glory. Use us, bless us, allow us. . . allow me the
tools to succeed.” She felt a burning in her belly and continued.
“I am yours. Suriax is yours. Do with us what you will.” She looked
up at the statue of Venerith that sat behind the altar. It was
older than the city, brought in with the Flame Guard when they
moved to Suriax shortly after its founding. Impressive in size,
even though it showed him seated, the statue measured over six foot
in height and showed him holding a large scroll. It was said if one
put his or her hand on the scroll and swore an oath or made a
bargain with Venerith, it became a binding agreement, not something
to be entered into lightly. Your name was forever etched into the
stone in the language of the gods. There were only three other
names there. She approached the statue and felt the pressure in the
room grow heavy. The candle flames turned to blue, casting an eerie
glow over the room. The burning inside her spread to her chest.
Before she could change her mind, she slapped her hand on to the
stone scroll. “I give you Suriax and all her citizens in exchange
for the power to keep my throne.” Her hand burned hot enough to
make her scream, but she could not lift if from the stone. She
watched in horror as blue flames rose from the scroll and ran up
her arm, licking at the sides of her neck and face. She struggled
to breath. The room behind the statue disappeared into darkness,
ethereal eyes staring at her from either side of the statue’s head.
A deep voice, soft, yet menacing echoed through the room,
“Accepted.” A white hot agony seared through her skin and body. In
a flash, the flames pulled back into the statue, the shadows
retuning to normal. The eyes were gone. She could almost believe
she imagined the entire thing, but her arm was covered in dark
flame shaped markings. The stone scroll flashed for an instant,
fire carving her name into the stone. She realized belatedly her
name was not written in any language she knew, yet she was able to
read it. The other names were still a mystery to her. Holding her
arm she stumbled from the room, wondering what she had just
done.

* * *

“The coast is clear. Let’s go.” Thomas led
Marcy and Frex through alleys and side streets, taking them to a
patch of forest where they could travel unseen. The sun had long
since disappeared behind the trees, leaving them in the dark
without much warmth. Thankfully, Thomas had a small lantern, but it
didn’t give off much light. Once they made it a fair distance from
the apartment, Thomas made camp. Marcy helped make Frex
comfortable, waiting until he was asleep. Then she joined Thomas by
the fire.

So, you’re in the Guard with Kern? I didn’t
think there were that many humans in the Guard.”

“No, not many.” He scratched the side of his
face. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve met any others. But
then, we don’t exactly socialize that much with each other. We
usually work alone.”

“What made you join?”

He shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“There are plenty of jobs. Are you from
Suriax?”

“No, I’m from a small village on a plateau in
the mountains. When I was a boy, my village went through several
difficult summers. There was no rain for months. All the crops
began to fail. People were starving. Many picked up and left in
search of food and opportunities. My father was stubborn. Our
family lived on that land for generations, and he didn’t want to
leave. When he died, I was left in charge of the family. I was
young and not as experienced with farming as he was. Things quickly
went from bad to worse. My younger sisters and mother became ill.
Around that time, a strange elven man came through town. We didn’t
get many visitors, as you can imagine. His clothes were well kept
and made of the finest materials. He was well fed and healthy. He
stayed for a few weeks, and everyone commented how generous he was
with his coin. He overpaid for his room, food and supplies. One
day, I ran into him while picking up supplies. He helped me pay for
extra food for my family. We got to talking, and I learned he lived
in the village a long time before. We were a human village, but
apparently he was once friends with someone who lived in the town.
They were long dead, as was everyone who knew him there, but he
remembered his time in our village fondly and wanted to help out. I
asked how he was able to afford such generosity. He told me he
worked for the Flame Guard in Suriax. I heard of the Guard before,
but I thought they were all just a bunch of clerics sitting around
praying and learning to fight. He told me about the mercenary
branch, how some guardsmen were recruited specifically for jobs and
spent considerably less time involved in worship and prayer. The
more he talked, the more I realized I could be one of them and earn
the money we needed to keep my family fed. He brought me back and
I’ve been working here ever since. I keep what money I need for
basic necessities and send back the rest to my family. Through
working here, I made enough to pay for dowries for two of my
sisters. My other sister and mother never go hungry, and there’s
even enough left over to help some of the other villagers from time
to time. The droughts aren’t usually a problem anymore, but years
of poor crops and hardship took their toll. Many over-farmed the
land that would produce to the point of worthlessness, now. Many of
the better farmers have died or moved on, and those who remain are
more like me, men who worked on the farms but don’t really know
enough to run them alone. I take back food and supplies when I can.
The Guard has helped me do that.”

“Do you ever plan to go back?” Given how much
he cared for his home and his people, she could image how difficult
it must be to live away from them.

“I want to, but I don’t know if that will
ever happen. Honestly, I’d love to settle down, farm the land of my
ancestors and raise a family of my own. But if staying here is the
price I pay to keep even one person from starving, that’s what I’ll
do.”

“What if helping us jeopardizes that?”

Thomas didn’t say anything, but from the
expression on his face, she could tell that thought already
occurred to him. Finally he threw another stick on the fire and
dusted off his hands. “You should get some sleep. We can figure out
where we’re going from here in the morning.”

* * *

Marcy awoke to the smell of freshly cooked
meat. Thomas dished out food for each of them and put out the fire.
Dew covered the ground. Sunlight glistened off the dew on Thomas’
pack and rolled up sleeping mat. “How long have you been up?” she
asked, stretching.

“I didn’t go to sleep.” He handed her a plate
of food and took food and water over to Frex, gently waking him and
helping him to sit.

Marcy ate in silence, feeling guilty for not
realizing someone had to stay up and keep watch. She never even
thought to offer to take turns. Instead she slept and left him to
sit up alone all night. At least he didn’t seem too much worse the
wear. It was too late now to worry about it. She would just have to
make an effort to be more considerate from here on. He was
sacrificing a lot to help them. The least she could do was stay up
so he could get a few hours of sleep. “So, what’s the plan?”