Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3) (14 page)

“Now you ask politely?” Hargon interjected.

“Enough from you,” Glaerion snapped.

“I never knew them,” Conner said. “My own parents died when I was young.  I do not know when my grandparents died.  Only my aunt is around anymore.  She is my father’s older sister.  She used to talk about her father, my father’s father.  Called him Torrish.  Talked about how great a man he was and always compared me to him.  And said I looked just like him.”

“Torrish?” Glaerion repeated.  “His name was Torrish?  Or Torreesh?”

Conner looked thoughtfully at the elf.  “Well, I had always thought it was Torrish, but I guess she did pronounce it Torreesh.”

“Torreesh is not a Karmon name,” Glaerion said.  “It means peacemaker in Hurai.”

“Hurai?” Conner exclaimed.

“You do not just learn what you learn in only a few months.  It is who you are.  You are born with it and it only takes a little push for it to come out.  You may call Karmon your home, but it is not who you are.  You are Hurai.”

Conner shook his head and let out laugh.  “No, I am from Karmon.  I have seen Hurai, and I do not look anything like them.  My skin is white, theirs is darker.  My eyes do not look like theirs.  Hargon, do I look Hurai?”

Hargon shook his head.  “Don’t get me involved.  I’ve never seen a Hurai.  I’ve heard of them, but I thought they were all dead.”

“It does not matter.  My business is elsewhere,” Glaerion said.  While turning to walk away, he added, “I’d say farewell, but that would mean I care.  Good riddance, then.”

Conner turned to Hargon and said.  “We need to get moving ourselves.  We need to find the Ark and soon.”

Glaerion stopped and turned while Hargon hushed Conner.

“Why did you say that?” Hargon whispered with a harsh tone.

“Say what?” Conner replied innocently.

“Ark?” the elf asked.  “What Ark?”

“It is nothing!” Hargon replied.  “The boy and I are simply heading back to his home.”

Glaerion crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Speak.  What Ark?”

“The Ark of Life,” Conner replied.

Hargon threw up his arms.  “Secrecy!” the former emperor said to no one but himself.  “Can we keep any secrets, here?”

“You know where the Ark of Life is?” Glaerion asked.

Conner glanced at Hargon, realizing his mistake.  It had not occurred to him that he needed to be careful with what he said and to whom.

“Go head, tell him everything,” Hargon said with a sigh.  “Tell him what it is.”

“I know what it is,” Glaerion said.  “I just want to know where it is.”

“I was told that it’s in the castle at South Karmon.  That’s a city near where I grew up.  I spent some time there last summer.”

“Who told you?”

“He said his name was Michael.”

“Michael?  When did you meet him?”

“Well, I guess I was kind of dead,” Conner replied.  He waited for a reaction from the elf, but Glaerion patiently stood still, waiting for Conner to continue.  “He said that it was the only way for him to be able to speak to me without being found out.  So he had to wait for me to be dead.  Or almost dead.”

The elf turned to Hargon and gave him a long look.  “And that’s where you came in?”

“Oh no, he was already dead when I found him!”

Glaerion shook his head impatiently.  “No, it was you that brought him back from the dead.” 

“Yes,” Hargon said.

“And you can cast spells?”  Glaerion asked.  His hand fell down to touch the hilt of his dagger.

“It seems only those that can heal.  My brother, on the other hand, he can do a bit more.”

“You are not surprised by this?” Conner asked.  “Casting spells?  Raising people from the dead?  The Ark of Life?”

“No,” the elf replied.  “Of course not.  What do you mean by doing a bit more?”

“He likes fire,” Hargon replied.

“Magic in the hands of Man is not safe,” Glaerion replied.  “I must find your brother.”

Hargon gave a wave towards where he thought Tara City was located.  “He should be back in his palace, probably tearing up his city to find me.  He tried to kill me, you know.  That is why I am far away from him.”

“The Ark,” Glaerion said to Conner.  “What did this Michael tell you about it?”

“Very little, only that I was chosen to find it and hide it as the Deceiver knows where it is.”

Glaerion let out a stream of words in elven.  “We have been hiding too long and our desire for peace has left the world vulnerable.”

“What?” Conner asked.

“I’ll keep this short,” Glaerion replied.  “Until five thousand years ago, the races of elves and man existed together.  And then war came.  Man and elves fought for hundreds of years over magic.  Man wanted more and more, and it was our place to keep it from them.  From you.  Man cannot handle the power of magic.  It corrupts and feeds pride and ego.  Left unchecked, it seeps into the soul and turns good men evil.  The war eradicated magic from man.  We killed all the mages and wizards we could find, which we had hoped was all of them.  But obviously not.  After the war, we could no longer live together in peace, so we chose to leave.  We needed to let humanity grow and evolve without them being dependent upon magic.”

“Is that why you hate us so much?” Conner asked.  “Because of a war five thousand years ago?”

“There are many reasons to hate man.  Our war is but one of them.  The Ark of Life must remain hidden.  If it falls into the hands of the Deceiver, then he will unleash his forces upon the earth.”

“Yes, I know that, but how do you know this?”

“It is the duty of all elven-kind to be caretakers of the earth.  We know everything there is to know about her and the forces that would fight over her.  I will come with you and find the Ark.  Then we will hide it once more.  Hopefully forever this time.”

“I think we can do just fine without you,” Hargon said.

“Are you in charge?” Glaerion shot back.  “It’s up to the Hurai.”

“I am not a Hurai!” Conner cried out.

“You will need my help.  You say the Ark is hidden in the castle.  The castle is big, no?  With lots of places that it could be hidden.  You could spend years searching for it and never find it.  Unless you know where it is.”

“And you’re saying that you know where it is?” Hargon asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what are you saying?” Hargon’s voice had raised loud enough to cause Conner to be concerned that their voices could be heard from a distance.

“Quiet!” Conner said.  “Do you know where it is?”

“No,” Glaerion replied.

“Then you are no good to us,” Hargon said.

“I am more good than you, old man.”

“I am not old,” Hargon snapped back.

“Hush, you two.”

With a softer voice, Glaerion said, “I don’t know where it is, but I can find it.  The Ark of Life is not magic, but it is a part of the fabric that makes up the web of magic.  That means it can be sensed, if you know what you are looking for.”

“Then you can find it?” Conner asked.

Glaerion nodded.  “If you get me into the castle, I’ll take you right to it.”

Conner did not want the elf around anymore than Hargon did.  He was arrogant and defiant, and clearly did not like either him or Hargon.  But if the elf already knew about the Ark, then he would not only help in finding it, but in hiding it as well.  As he stood looking at the elf, wondering what to do, the words of Michael came back to him.  Michael had told him that there would be others that would be put in his path to help him out.  This elf was the most unlikely person to be that help, but Conner’s instincts were telling him it was the right thing to do.

“You aren’t seriously considering letting him join us, are you?” Hargon asked.

“He has already helped us, and he can help us again.  He is right.  There are hundreds of places that the Ark could be hidden and if he can sense it, then it will save us a lot of time searching for it.”

“What if he’s actually in league with the Deceiver?  What if you bring him to the Ark, and then he just stabs you in the back and keeps it for himself?”

“How about if I just kill you now and get it over with,” Glaerion said.  “The Ark needs to be protected, and if the Deceiver knows where it is, then there is nothing that you can do to stop him from getting it.  But with my help, we can get the Ark and take it back to my homeland and we will be able to keep him from getting it.”

“We work together, then?” Conner asked.

“As much as it makes me physically sick to say so, yes, we will work together to get the Ark.”

Chapter Ten

Emperor Tarcious adjusted the crown upon his head.  He had it cast from the melted gold of his brother’s old crown, but it was not the large, cumbersome ornament of the former emperor.  There were two thin bands that were sized just perfectly for his head.  Between each band, holding the bands together, were large gems that glistened in the bright light of the day.  A large, many-faceted diamond was set in the front.  It had been in his family for so many generations that no one remembered when it had been cut.  There was a slight pink or red tint that gave it its name, fiery diamond.  Next, a square emerald, then a deep blue topaz, and then at the back was an oval Bloodstone.  Around the other side was another blue topaz and another green emerald.  The jeweler had insisted on crafting a crown that was encrusted with all sorts of the different gems and jewels found throughout the empire, but Tarcious wanted something a bit less opulent.  In truth, he wanted something that was comfortable enough to wear every day, all day long.  The behemoth that his brother wore was so uncomfortable, it was only worn during special celebrations.

The coronation ceremony had been held at the top steps of the palace to allow all the citizens of the city to witness the new emperor being given his crown.  It was a muted affair as the city was still under curfew and the gates were still locked.  Those centurions who had not marched east with the army were assigned to patrol the streets, looking for Emperor Hargon’s killer.  The ruthlessness of the centurions in their quest to find the killer festered unrest and anger among the city’s citizens, which added to the tension of the city’s populous.  But Tarcious did not care about the mood of the people that he ruled, nor did he give them much more than a passing thought.  The goal that he had so desperately tried to attain was within his grasp, and there was nothing that was going to get in his way.

If he truly had his own way, then the coronation ceremony would have been nothing more than him taking the crown and putting it atop his head.  It would have been in his private chambers where he didn’t have to see or talk to anyone.  But if Taran was about anything, it was about tradition and following protocol.  He needed to stand out in front of the people so they could all be witness to the crowning, which would give his throne legitimacy.  Although he knew that having control of the army was all the legitimacy that he needed, he would need not only the people of the city to remain calm, but the regional governors as well.  But it would really only be for a short while, for by the time the snows melted and the warm spring rains began, it would be more than Taran that would be under his rule.

The man selected to perform the coronation ceremony was named Runna, and he had served the empire for almost thirty years as the regional governor of the far Western Province.  Some years ago Tarcious’ brother had taken the governorship away as Runna became senile and untrustworthy.  But as a respected former governor, he seemed the right person to preside over the coronation.  Unfortunately, the man’s senility became clearly apparent the moment he first spoke.  Runna stumbled and stuttered his way through the ceremony, which wore on Tarcious’ patience.  He was just glad there was really no one else of consequence standing atop the steps.  Tarcious had no other family to stand with him.  His mother and father had long since died, leaving only the two brothers.  Three uncles had died many years ago when they were hardly older than boys.  There were rumors of a cousin or two still being alive, but they stayed far away in anonymity.  None of the regional governors had arrived in time to stand in witness, but a few of the more influential merchants and guild leaders were given a spot to stand near the emperor.  But most who stood up on that top step were servants and palace workers that were given fancy clothes and told where to stand and to be quiet until the ceremony was finished.

With words that only he could hear, Runna placed his crown upon his head, and with that one ceremonial act, Tarcious was now officially the emperor of the greatest realm on earth.  Leaving the people of his city half-heartedly clapping, he turned on his heel and left the ceremony as quickly as he could.

In the quiet of his own chambers, Emperor Tarcious touched the crown again, debating whether to take it off and leave it in the palace, or to take it with him on his journey.  He watched himself in the mirror, turning this way and that to get a better view of the gems that were expertly placed between the two bands.

“Magnificent!” Korlius called from across the room.

“What?” Tarcious snapped back.  “I do not need sniveling servants lapping at my feet like an old dog.”

Korlius dropped his eyes and gave a partial bow.  “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.  I was just commenting…”

“Keep your comments to yourself,” Tarcious said.  He gently removed the crown from his head.  A servant, who had been standing quietly in the dark corner of the room ran to the emperor and held out a plush pillow.  Gently, the emperor placed the crown on it.  The servant backed away and returned to his dark corner.  He wanted to continue to wear the crown, but it would have just gotten in his way while he led his army into battle.

“Are my horses ready?” Tarcious asked.

“Of course,” Korlius replied.  “Are you sure it is wise to leave so early in your reign?  You were only just coroneted.”

“The empire will run smoothly without me,” Tarcious said with a calm voice.  Truly, he did not care about the empire, or who ruled it.  Once he had the Ark of Life, there would be no empire, no other realms.  But he also knew that the empire needed a leader in the city to control the various factions that were in a constant state of disagreement.  Although there were many layers to the government, authority needed to end at the top.  And whether it was him, or someone he appointed, there needed to be somebody. 

Tarcious continued, “You will be given authority to make decisions in my absence.  But know this: I have spies throughout the palace, and one hint of disloyalty, and you will be begging me to kill you.  Is that clear?”

Korlius dropped his eyes to the floor again and said, “Of course.  I am your servant.”

“Be gone, then,” Tarcious said with a wave of his hand.  “I will depart immediately.”

“There is one thing,” Korlius said tentatively.

“Spit it out,” Tarcious snapped.

“There are wagons waiting to come inside the city and the merchants are starting to get restless about not being able to sell their wares. I think it is time to unlock the gates.”

A burning impatience flashed over him.  He had too many other things to worry about than crying merchants, but maybe Korlius was right and it was time to open the gates.  He had only kept them closed this long as a pretense for his desire to find his brother’s killer.  But obviously, the killer would never be found.  It was past time for him to get on the road towards the army, and if he kept the city locked up, civil unrest would just become rampant.  Once he had the power of the Ark of Life, the empire could be split into a thousand pieces, and he wouldn’t care.  He just needed it to stay intact long enough for all his plans to come to fruition.

“Very well,” Tarcious said with a forced sigh.  “Double the guards on the gates and keep their eyes open.  “A hundred gold coins to the man who brings me my brother’s killer.”

***

Emperor Tarcious rode his horse hard.  It was a jet black stallion brought as a colt from the rolling steppes of the Western Province.  Initially it was raised to be among Hargon’s riding horses, but it proved to be too wild and free to serve the former emperor’s needs.  Tarcious had taken the horse for himself and quickly learned that the animal was the one creature that had a stronger will than himself.  Instead of fighting to control him, Tarcious let him be the free spirit that he was.  In the end, the horse finally accepted Tarcious and allowed itself to be ridden.

Tarcious regretted having to push the horse so hard, but he knew his time was running out.  Once he reached the army, even if the horse survived, it would never be the same.  Tarcious felt an odd sadness as he had much respect for the power and strength of the beast.  But like everything else that Tarcious touched, the stallion had one purpose, and that was to carry him to the White Mountains.

The stallion suddenly stumbled as the White Mountains were in full view on the eastern horizon.  Tarcious almost slipped off the back of the horse, but the stallion was able to regain his own balance and kept running.  Tarcious tried to let up, but the horse would not slow down.  It pushed itself harder, as if it knew that its destination was only a few miles off.  Snow showers had stayed away, but there was plenty of snow on the ground and it got deeper as they got closer to the mountains.  Even with the snow up to mid-leg, the stallion kept pushing on.

It wasn’t long before he could see smoke from the fires of the army camp.  The stallion snorted, smelling the smoke itself.  With one last burst, the horse surged forward, white foam suddenly being tossed from its mouth with each breath.  But the surge was all it had left and finally its legs collapsed.  Tarcious could hear the snapping of a leg as it got caught underneath its large body.  As gracefully as he could, Tarcious rolled from the saddle, making sure that he avoided being crushed by the tumbling body of the horse.

The snow was high enough that he was fully covered as he rolled along the ground.  He stood up slowly, shaking the snow off his cloak.  He gave one look back at the horse to see that it wasn’t getting up, and then without another thought, he marched off towards the army camp.

The camp was at the base of one of the higher peaks in a small valley that was partially protected from wind and snow.  Taran centurions had been fighting for decades in the brutal northern winters, so they were fully prepared for the relatively easy winter of the east.  Centurions were grouped into teams of six and each team was given a leather hide tent and thick wool blankets to keep themselves warm.  There were ten teams in a company.  Each company circled their tents around a central fire that was kept burning day and night.  Not only was the fire used for warmth, but it was also used for cooking as each company was responsible for their own food and water.  A central supply caravan provided the raw supplies, but it was up to each company of centurions to prepare their own food.  Each company was further grouped into a larger division.  The number of companies per division varied based upon tactical needs.  Divisions of crossbowmen were only comprised of two or three companies while the frontline infantry divisions could have as many as twenty companies in each division.  Most of the northern army and its ten divisions had made the march east.  Five more divisions from Tara City had joined the army as well.  In all, almost five thousand men, including support and engineering companies, were camped and ready for war.

Tarcious approached the army weary and cold.  It had been a long journey that spanned two straight days of hard riding.  He only managed to eat a few strips of dried meat and a loaf of bread along the way.  His leather waterskin had gone dry some time ago and his body craved water, even though there was an unlimited supply all around him.  He did grab a handful of snow on occasion to try and quench his thirst, but he only got a frozen mouth for his efforts.

“Hold!”

Tarcious looked up from his snowy path into the eyes of a soldier barely older than a boy.  The centurion was in full battle armor.  He wore a chainmail shirt that included a hood and conical helm that held the chain hood in place.  He carried a cocked and ready crossbow that was aimed right at his chest.

“Unless you want me to shove that thing right up your behind, I would suggest that you aim it someplace else.”

The man-boy didn’t waver. 

“You really think I am threat?  I have no weapons.”  Tarcious lifted his hands away from his body and pulled open his cloak to show that he was not armed.

“Hold!” the centurion shouted again.  “None are to pass the perimeter here without leave of General Mace.”

They were near a group of tents and heads poked out from between the front flaps.  Other centurions sat by the fire, their heads turned to see what was happening.

“I have no time for this,” Tarcious said as much to himself as to the centurion guard.  He was in no mood to explain who he was.  Although part of him realized that it was indeed odd for the emperor of the most powerful nation in the world to be out in the wilderness all alone, he was the emperor and was not going to go challenged by a pimply boy. 

As he took his next step forward, the words of the spell flowed off his lips with barely a thought.  He had performed the spell so many times that it was becoming second nature.  With a quick thrust, he jabbed his hand towards the centurion and a ball of fire struck him square in the face.  The centurion screamed in agony and fell to the ground, kicking and scratching at his face.  His whole head was on fire, burning uncontrollably.  The screams lasted only for a moment longer and then the kicking stopped.  Tarcious stepped over the body, unfazed at the smell of burned skin.

The faces of the company of centurions were frozen in fear.  No one dared breathe, much less move, lest they get a face full of fire.

Mostly to himself, the emperor of Taran said as he passed by, “If you think that was something, just wait for what will come next.”

Silence followed him as he navigated his way through the sea of tents towards the center of camp.

There were two centurions posted at the entrance to the large command tent, but they did not flinch as he stalked through the opening.  Several men were grouped around a map that hung in the center of the room.  The youngest of them stepped forward.