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By the Sword Page 7
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Why am I so shocked? Everyone knows that sons are honored while daughters are scorned. I tried so hard to please that man by perfecting the sword and following the prince diligently.
It was time to face reality. She was nothing.
*****
Naeshi knew that his wound would heal, but his humiliation would only worsen with time. He had been drilling and sparring with inexperienced kids all day. Maybe he wasn’t the sharpest dagger in the drawer, but his skill with the sword far surpassed his thirty-one years. He had been the youngest senior guard in Malinor’s history, but Ittonifer had allowed a single incident to strip that away.
My career is ruined because of that flighty female. Chrissa is going to pay for that one day soon.
Worse still, he had to see Jalarn glowering at him at least ten times every day. The newly promoted general was just a lad himself at merely twenty years of age.
Only because he is Ittonifer’s nephew.
Naeshi had spent only one day as a lowly foot soldier, and he didn’t know if he could bear several more years of it. He would rather live by himself in the desert than stay there.
He took off his helmet and slammed it down on the ground.
“The injustice is maddening, is it not?” asked a raspy voice.
It was that crazy Aterun. It seemed like ages since Naeshi had last seen him.
Naeshi turned away, still ashamed of his mutilated face. He wouldn’t be making his rounds at the taverns anytime soon.
He could feel the warlock staring holes through his back.
“What do you want?” Naeshi asked.
“I saw what happened,” said Aterun.
“How?”
“I have my ways.”
Just as nuts as before.
“I have things to do, old man.”
“Obviously,” Aterun scoffed.
Naeshi shook his head and walked away.
“What if I told you that I know of a way that could earn you Ittonifer’s respect once again?”
Naeshi stopped and faced the man. He spat to one side.
“Are you finished yet?” Naeshi asked.
“If you have other pressing things to attend to rather than retrieving century-old lost treasure, then that’s your prerogative.”
Now he had Naeshi’s attention.
“Are you growing madder with age, warlock? We both know that there’s no hidden treasure.”
“I suppose that a senseless brute like you can’t be expected to deduce that Ittonifer has been actively searching it out since before he began his reign. A man like him would never waste his time on a fable.”
Naeshi refrained from clobbering the sack of bones. Of course he knew about the legendary treasure of the ancient Malinorians, but everyone knew it was a myth that Malinor’s greedy ruler chose to believe. Even smart men could be gullible sometimes.
“Prove it then,” said Naeshi.
“We’ll be wasting time.”
“You’re already wasting my time. Prove it or get out of my sight.”
“Those are big words for a one-eyed foot soldier. I’m sure you must be aware that the great prince reveals things to me. The treasure is just outside of the city, but it is very well hidden. It’s an hour’s walk – no one will even notice we’ve been gone.”
Naeshi could not imagine that Aterun would be able to walk for an hour anywhere, let alone over the uneven terrain surrounding the city. The idea was ridiculous.
“You’re forgetting something,” said Naeshi. “Dinner will be served soon at the barracks. I will starve if I travel out there and waste several more hours trying to find this legendary treasure.”
“I have obviously brought this into consideration. You will be fed.”
Naeshi thought about his options. If there really were a canyon full of riches, he would be the wealthiest man in the empire, besides Ittonifer. If not, at least he would be spared from another evening spent with snot-nosed brats.
“You had better be right, old man.”
Chapter Seven
The tall, rigid Cobalt Mountains seemed to reach out and pierce the grey sky. Naeshi searched for caves or crevices within the sharp ridges around them. Aterun trailed behind him. He was out of breath already.
Naeshi wasn’t sure how the old stump was going to make it back to Malinor. Besides, the warlock would only try and tell him what to do with the treasure anyway.
Maybe I should slit his throat and feed him to the wolves once the treasure is uncovered.
A slender waterfall trickled down the mountain. Aterun scurried over to it excitedly. Anticipation surged through Naeshi as he followed him.
“The hiding place is right behind the waterfall,” said Aterun.
Naeshi stepped under the gentle falls and sized up the opening. It was high enough for him to get through comfortably, but it did not appear wide enough for him to fit with his armor on. He eyed the gangly magician.
There was obviously a reason why Aterun was being so accommodating. No one ever offered help unless he wanted something in return.
“You can fit through the opening. Bring me something,” said Naeshi.
Aterun glared at him, but he stepped under the trickling water and entered the cave.
Naeshi paced back and forth until the magician came back out.
Aterun was grinning.
Naeshi’s eyes widened. Within Aterun’s spindly hands were several golden nuggets.
“Are you convinced now, foot soldier?”
Naeshi tore his armor off. He was still barely able to squeeze his bullish frame through the narrow crevice, but he made it to where it opened into a large a cave. A ray of light from an opening above shone on an abundance of gold, gems, and diamonds.
His jaw dropped open. If he took all of this, he would be richer than Ittonifer himself. He wouldn’t tell anyone of his discovery, naturally. He had to kill Aterun.
“Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” Naeshi said rubbing his hands, “and then I will sail for the eastern continent and make myself a king.”
“You selfish fool!” yelled Aterun from the entrance.
Naeshi glanced casually at his elder. He drew his sword and walked toward him.
Surprisingly, Aterun did not even flinch. Instead, he lifted his hand and began to chant.
Before Naeshi had a chance to blink, his body was lifted from the ground. Something held him in place. He tried to struggle, but he could not move.
Aterun repeatedly cast surges of electricity at him. His body convulsed in agony. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t yell. The pain seemed to penetrate through his skin and into every fiber of his insides.
Then, the electrical surges subsided. Quivering, Naeshi gasped for air, grateful for the relief.
The warlock scowled as he lowered Naeshi back to the ground.
“If you even think about pulling a stunt like that again, I will kill you. Now, go show Ittonifer a sampling of the wealth that you are about to bring him. He will favor you once again.”
Naeshi shook his head. That would never happen.
“Listen to me, Naeshi. Ittonifer’s greed is even stronger than his lust for blood. Trust me. You will have everything you could ever want, including his beautiful daughter.”
Chrissa had been the cause of both his missing eye and his new lowly status. Still, he wanted her. Every red-blooded male that laid eyes on her did.
If Ittonifer gave him his old position back, Naeshi would marry her right away. She was the most stunning woman that he had ever seen. Taming her to be the wife that he deserved would be well worth the effort.
Naeshi studied Aterun. The magician could have just killed him if he’d wanted to.
“Why are you being so accommodating?” Naeshi asked.
“I have my reasons, but like I said: If you try to kill me again, you’re finished.”
“It won’t happen again.”
The old man was more powerful than Naeshi had imagined. He wondered why Aterun never tried to overtake I
ttonifer and rule Malinor himself.
The warlock hummed a few notes and opened his clenched fists. Within each of his hands was a round, purple fruit. Naeshi had never seen anything like it before.
Aterun handed one to him.
“This won’t fill me up,” grumbled Naeshi, but after three bites he was already satisfied.
He ate the rest of it anyway.
“Now, go and show your ruler how worthy you really are,” the warlock grinned.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I am going to stay back here for a while.”
Energized, Naeshi ran as fast as he could back to Malinor. Once he got his title back, he would make Chrissa pay for her insolence. She had been toying with him for far too long.
*****
In the royal stable, Queen Roselyn paced back and forth in front of General Edandir. He had just told her what he had learned of Ittonifer’s plans. It nearly killed her to think that she had almost lost him to a storm created by the devil’s spell. Ittonifer was more involved in witchcraft than she would have imagined.
Roselyn’s white mare whinnied softly, sticking her head out of the stall. The queen smiled and gently rubbed the horse’s smooth neck.
It was bad enough that the empire had one crazy leader, but now it would appear that Ittonifer’s young nephew had become just like him.
“I am sorry. I probably spoiled your mood to go out for your evening ride,” said the general.
“No. It is all right. You were right to come find me here. It is better that I know now.”
Edandir nodded.
Roselyn hated violence with a passion. The reason that she had pursued the throne was to form peace treaties with other countries and end war completely.
It seems like no matter what I do or where I go, violence follows me.
She had been so naïve when she had first been elected as a part of the Sanctus senate at the age of twenty-five. Now thirty-eight, Roselyn had been the queen of Sanctus for five years. The people adored her. She was grateful to be queen, but now she wondered if she had chosen the correct path. She was not ready to handle the burden of a battle. And now magic was going to be involved.
General Edandir’s deep voice broke the silence.
“Seeing you troubled makes me feel very low, Your Majesty,” he said.
“It seems as though God has forgotten our devotion to Him,” she said.
Edandir’s eyes met hers.
“Don’t blame Him, Roselyn. You know as well as I do that what has happened is the devil’s work – and the work of those that choose to listen to him.”
“Cardamon was a faithful nation before all of this, Edandir, yet they just lost their nation and many of their people – including Seraphim and Landine.”
“Yes. You do not have to remind me of what we have lost.”
Roselyn shut her eyes. It was still painful to think of King Seraphim and his wife being slain by the brutal Malinorians. They had been her good friends for years.
Roselyn took a deep breath.
“Chira had also been a God-serving nation until Ittonifer scared them into pledging their allegiance to him. Why weren’t they delivered before Ittonifer drove them to such a point?”
Edandir shook his head, a stern frown etching his forehead. His expression made her feel like a child again. She looked away.
She wanted to wrap her arms around her horse’s neck, as she often did, but the gesture would have looked ridiculous to the general. She had to appear strong, even though she just wanted to cry.
As though reading her mind, the gentle mare nuzzled her with a velvety soft nose. Roselyn smiled. The two of them had been through so much together over the past twenty years. They would get through this also.
“I cannot answer that question,” the general finally said.
Why had Seraphim and his wife been put in a position where they had to choose between God and their lives? Why didn’t He spare them from death if He cared so much? The injustice of it all disturbed her. Roselyn was as afraid as King Seraphim must have been.
“Why would our Heavenly Father allow such a good king and queen to be slain by our enemies? Tell me.”
Edandir shut his eyes.
“King Seraphim was my friend. But he turned his back on God. You know all of this, Your Majesty.”
Roselyn shook her head.
Now I am starting to lose faith.
“Please don’t let the recent and present circumstances weaken your faith in God. I have been thinking a lot about what happened with Chira and Cardamon. Maybe all He wants is for us to ask Him for help and have more faith,” said Edandir.
“I think that I must do what every good ruler has done in a time of war – fast and pray. I will talk with the pastors and seek their counsel. I hope that God will speak to me if I devote more time to Him. I need to go where I will be completely alone. I will make my journey first thing in the morning.”
“Very well, Your Majesty, but may I make one suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“I want to accompany you. These are dangerous times. Ittonifer could have his men situated close by to bring about your demise. I can put Sanere in charge while we are away.”
Queen Roselyn laughed, but then turned serious when she saw the deep concern flooding Edandir’s dark eyes. She crossed her arms, ignoring the fluttering feeling in her stomach. He clearly cared about her a lot.
“While I agree, General, that there could undeniably be spies in this city, I can assure you that Ittonifer has better things to do than plan a timid queen’s demise. Besides, where I am going, I doubt that there will be any enemies. You must lead your army.”
“Then allow me to send one of my commanders with you.”
“I will be fine.”
“I must disagree.”
His eyes were pleading, but it was not going to work on her this time. Riding alone was something that she greatly enjoyed. Deep prayer was something that one should also do alone, she thought.“This is something that I must do alone. I want you to manage things for me while I am gone, which will not be long. Ready your army, and I will return in two days.”
“As you wish, my queen.”
*****
In her cot, staring at the ceiling, Talya thought about the last few days. It was well past midnight and everyone else in the barracks was sleeping except for her. Deep breathing and a mixture of soft and loud snores filled the air, but she was not the least bit tired.
The fact that Tanel was still angry with her did not sit well.
Hanten wouldn’t have held a grudge like this.
Talya closed her eyes. She missed him so much. She always would.
Why did Tanel have to turn his back on her now, of all times?
Then there was Edandir. Talya didn’t despise her father as much as she had before the journey. In fact, he mattered more to her now than she cared to admit.
She swallowed, ignoring the lump that had formed in her throat.
That is what scares me. If I get close to him, something bad could happen. Life just seems to work that way.
Talya sighed. She hated being afraid.
She remembered how they had all nearly lost their lives back in Malinor until God had put an end to Jalarn’s spell. She had been within seconds of death three times during the last week, all because of him.
Talya closed her eyes and imagined the ways that she could catch Jalarn off guard and kill him once they met again. There had to be some way to beat him. She would find it.
As her thoughts finally brought her into a fitful sleep, she dreamed.
A scrawny, sandy-haired boy of about nine was running through grimy, deserted streets. It was overcast and eerily dark. He was carrying a small, dirty sack of something.
He stopped in front of a small shack and opened the dilapidated door. Inside, it was dark, dirty, and dusty.
Talya could almost smell decaying food and human filth in the tiny cabin.
The l
ad stopped at the foot of a bed where a frail young woman lay. She appeared barely able to breathe, much less move.
She opened her mouth and wheezed.
It was so vivid, so real.
Then, the dream abruptly changed to the young lad fist fighting with two other boys. They weren’t wearing armor. Instead, they wore ragged tunics. A masked warrior stood and watched in the distance.
Tears streamed from the boy’s reddened eyes, forming pale streaks down his mud-covered face. The others, a little older, showed no emotion at all.
It was a battle to the death. The largest of the three continually pounded the smallest child in the face until he moved no more. He ran at the sandy-haired boy and they punched and kicked at one another like wild animals. Both of their faces were severely bloodied.
Talya wanted to reach out and stop them. They were only children. But she couldn’t move.
“Stop!” she shouted.
The wispy boy knocked down the larger one after kicking him hard in the face. He stood over him with a mad glare in his eyes. His tears had dried now. He bent over and punched him in the mouth so hard that several of his teeth flew out.
Rage had taken over the once tear-stricken youth. He finally beat the bigger boy to death.
The warrior walked up to the only surviving child.
“Now your mother may eat,” he said.
It was uncanny to Talya how a voice from a living soul could sound so hollow. She wanted to strike him. She had never seen anything so horrific in all of her life.
The knight gave the waif of a child some bread. The boy sprinted away, back down the dreary streets to the small shack. He shoved the loaf into the sick young woman’s hand, but she did not move.
“Ma, I’ve got some food for you! You can eat this whole loaf. Ma! Wake up…”
His mother lay motionless underneath torn shreds of blanket. Her skin was grey. The woman that barely looked old enough to be his mother had been dead for a while.
Her young son touched her face. Shocked from the iciness of her skin, he jerked his hand back.
He stared at her for a few seconds before crying a loud, mournful wail that echoed down the streets.