The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (53 page)

The soldier nodded furiously.  I shoved my sword back in its scabbard and let the chair’s front legs drop back down onto the wooden floor.  The soldier let out a deep exhale.  Maybe I was better at this intimidation thing than I thought.

“Tell me your name,” I hissed. 

“Oreon Brinswill,” the man answered with more conviction than his wan face showed. 

“And you’re a Paigean soldier, correct?” 

Oreon’s head jerked up, his eyebrows drawing down tightly.

“For the love of Vheros,” Max breathed in annoyance.  “Let me handle this.”  Vheros is the god of wasted time. 

At the sight of a talking squirrel, Oreon let out a yelp and flung backwards, the chair crashing to the floor with the clack of wood on wood and the solid thump of his head striking the wooden planks.

“Hey, I’m doing just fine,” I snapped, insulted.

“We will be here all night at this rate, and I do not know about you, but I am famished.  Let me show you how it is done.”  Max leapt from my shoulder and scurried onto Oreon’s chest.  Oreon’s eyes widened to show the whites all around.  I could hear Sal’ snickering, though I wasn’t sure if it was due to Oreon’s reaction or Max putting me in my place. 

The man cringed and turned away with a whimper as Max moved towards his face. 
“Seriously?  Your army, an army whose ranks include the walking dead, was just attacked by Chralex-blooded dragons, and you are scared of a talking rodent?”  Max stood and put a hand . . . er . . . paw to his forehead. 

“I only did this to keep my family safe,” the soldier whimpered without looking at Max.  “I had no idea we would be fighting alongside those . . . those monsters.”

Max drew his paw from his face.  “Ah, now we are getting somewhere.  How does attempting to take over a land that has no quarrel with your own by brute force keep your family safe?”

Oreon’s eyes flared, burning with anger.  “No quarrel?” he snarled.  Oreon spat, missing Max and hitting his own leg.  “You act as if your spies had no part in instigating the civil wars that plague Paigea, as if you have no plans to take advantage of our weakened state.”

My throat ached.  Ice pumped through my veins.  Paigea, the land my father ruled under a banner of peace, was at war with itself.  That didn’t sit well with me.  Given Max’s sudden silence, it didn’t sit well with him either. 

“What are you talking about?” Sal’ interjected.

Oreon let out a derisive laugh before seemingly remembering that the talking squirrel on his chest was something he was scared of.  He went silent, twisting his face away once again.

“What if I told you,” Max began, drawing out his words, “that half of the only people in Amirand who even know of Paigea’s existence are in this very room with you now?  What if I told you that there is no plot to invade Paigea?”

“I would call you a liar,” Oreon answered, his eyes closed and his words forced.

“All right, let us change tack.  Who is Gualain’s current king?”

“Galvin Lemweir, Prime Sovereign of Paigea, has taken that role,” the soldier answered with pride.

The next thing I knew, I was upon Oreon, my hand at his throat. 
“Liar!”  I think I screamed the word several times before I finally felt Sal’s hands pull me away from him.  Oreon was gasping for air as I was drawn back.  I couldn’t remember actually choking him.

“I will answer no more of your questions,” Oreon sneered between gasps for air. 

Sal’ released her ball of flame and let it hover just above Oreon’s face.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.  “Yes, you will,” she asserted succinctly. 

Sal’ then turned to me with concern deeply set in her eyes.  “Are you okay?”

I closed my eyes and started taking deep breaths.  “I will be,” I answered.  “There’s a lot you don’t know yet, Sal’.” 

Despite Sal’s attempts to comfort me, I turned away and stalked over to Oreon.  Max was on the floor beside him, apparently having been knocked aside during my sudden attack on the Paigean soldier. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me that Galvin Lemweir is Gualain’s king,” I growled. 

“Galvin Lemweir, Prime Sovereign of my homeland, is Gualain’s king,” Oreon replied, though he stared into the ball of flame and not my eyes.  It was close enough.

I took a deep breath, not wanting to hear the answers to my next questions.  It took every iota of my self-control not to attack Oreon again.  “And this war?  This war is by
his
orders?”

“Yes.” 

One psychological punch to my gut.

“And the undead are under his control?”

“Yes, and also those traitors whose punishment lies with the crystals.”

Another punch, this one with iron-studded knuckles.
  Oreon, and most likely the entire Paigean presence in Amirand, believed the green rocks were justified. 

“And he is here in
Amirand—in Bherin?”

“I will never reveal the location of the Prime Sovereign,” Oreon rasped.  The ball of flame dropped a fingerbreadth or so towards his face.  Oreon
squinted his eyes against its brightness and heat.  “Yes! Yes!  He is in Bherin!  Please, do not kill me!”

“Such masculinity,” Sal’ ribbed from behind me as I took punch number three, this one reverberating through my entire body.

I licked my dry lips with my dry tongue.  “And you believe that Amirand’s rulers plan on entering and conquering Paigea?  You believe that we will invade and that the invasion will put your family in danger?” 

“The Prime Sovereign has captured your spies, spies who have admitted to Amirand’s tyrannical plans.  We know that you will spare no one in your path as you strive to conquer our land.”

I turned to Max, sure that I probably looked like one of the undead.  I sure felt like I was. 

“Korin, this man has obviously been lied to.  Amirand is no threat to Paigea.  These soldiers have been deceived in order to fight with blinders on,” Max explained.

“I know.”  I shut my eyes again, holding back the anger that threatened to overwhelm me.  If I hadn’t been wearing gloves, my fingernails would have cut into my palms with the effort of holding back my rage.  “It’s the one who’s deceiving them that bothers me.”

Max was silent for a moment and then leapt onto Oreon’s chest again.  Oreon flinched.  “Why is the Prime Sovereign here in Amirand?  Why is he acting as Gualain’s king?”

“I do not know,” Oreon answered cautiously, trying to avert his eyes from the ball of flame.  “He was already here and in control of Gualain, its army, and . . . and those monsters when we arrived.”

“And does anything about that seem strange to you?” Max inquired.  Oreon remained silent. 
“Salmaea?”

The fire lowered another fingerbreadth.  The air filled with the scent of Oreon’s singed eyebrows. 

Oreon, now panting in fear, couldn’t get his words out fast enough.  “The Prime Sovereign assured us that he would bring an end to the civil wars at home while we fought to keep Paigea safe from invasion.”  Oreon’s voice was frantic as the fire lowered even further.  “I do not understand why he would be here when he is supposed to be ending the wars in Paigea.” 

“I see,” Max mused.

Sal’ put a hand to her hip.  “Now, who is going to tell me exactly what Paigea is?  Who is this Prime Sovereign?”

“Soon,” Max assured her.  “Oreon, what does the name Jonasir Spensolin
mean to you?”

Oreon turned his head slowly to look at Max, squinting against the flame.  “Jonasir Spensolin?  Ever since I was a child, there has been a price on that
traitor’s
head,” he spat.  “He killed the Prime Sovereign’s son years ago in an attempt to establish himself as heir to Paigea.  His devious plans were discovered, so he fled, crossing into this world.  He is the one who started all of this, the one who desires control over his homeland.  His plan to bring armies into Paigea is the reason for our presence here.”

So, I once mentioned in this journal that I could count the number of times that I’d seen Max truly surprised on one hand.  Well, I was about to have to start using the second.  I felt a flutter in my stomach at the idea of Max being considered a fugitive on the run for killing . . . well, me.  I didn’t believe a word of it, though.  I mean, I was still alive.

Max recovered from his shock quickly and continued.  “So, according to the Prime Sovereign, this war is about stopping Jonasir?”

“No, not just that,” Oreon panted.  “It is about weakening Amirand in order to eliminate it as a threat.” 

“And how does Gualain fit into this?” Max asked.

“The Prime Sovereign found Gualain to be an ally.  Gualain’s king offered the Prime Sovereign control over his army and a legion of the dead raised by his wizards.  In exchange for his assistance in this war, Gualain will be established as the true seat of power in Amirand, fully backed by the Prime Sovereign.” 

I was impressed by just how much a little ball of flame could draw out of a man. 

“Is that so?” Max mused gravely.  “And what is Raijom Weist’s part in this?”

Oreon shook his head, “I do not recognize that name,” he claimed with a shaky voice.

“Prexwin Imos?”

Oreon swallowed.  “Prexwin is the Prime Sovereign’s advisor.”

Silence filled the house.  We knew that Prexwin was Raijom’s apprentice, by his own admission.  We also knew that Raijom was involved in the war from Menar’s last words.  So why was Raijom’s existence not known to Oreon while Prexwin’s was? 

Max nodded to Sal’, and the flame extinguished.  “Get him up,” Max told me.  “And try not to attack him this time.”

It was a battle to follow Max’s request, but I was able to raise the chair without strangling Oreon again. 
Barely.  Besides, he didn’t deserve the brunt of my anger.  He’d been deceived.  Deceived by my father.  I felt like sicking up on the floor. 

“We are not done with you,” Max growled at Oreon before leading Sal’ and me to a back corner.

“Max, my father . . .”

“Do not start,” Max snapped.  “There is something going on here—something we are not going to glean from this man’s words.  Do you not find it odd that this soldier believes Prexwin to be your father’s advisor, yet he knows nothing of Raijom?  Do you not find it odd that Paigea is supposedly torn with war, and yet your father is here, not there?”  Max closed his eyes with a grimace.  “There is something sinister occurring here.” 

Every muscle in my body tensed.  My vision started turning red, and closing my eyes just made it worse.  “Yes, and that something sinister is my father.  Maybe Raijom is to blame, but my father is the one who—”  I was cut off by a sharp slap across the face, a slap hard enough to send me twisting and reeling backwards. 

“I had to use my own energy for that, so please do not make me do it again,” Max grumbled.  “I would really hate to literally lose my mind to make a point.”

My rage continued to boil.  The very effort of keeping it in check was the only thing preventing me from doing or saying anything to Max.

Sal’ put a hand to my reddened cheek, and the sting eased.  I reached up to touch her hand and realized I was actually smiling.  Maybe Sal’s labile nature was rubbing off on me.

“All right, lovebirds, listen.  Korin, I have already told you that your father is
not
a wizard.  He
cannot
be controlling these undead.  I find it very hard—impossible—to believe that your father would consider me to be starting a war against Paigea.  Obviously, I did not kill you, and I did not flee Paigea.”  Max twitched his nose.  “Well, maybe I fled, but not as a fugitive.  Yet this is what Oreon believes.  This is what he was taught.  There is something we do not yet understand at work here.”

“But Max—” 

“If you make me explain once again why you should not yet despair about your father, I may just start tearing out my fur.”

“I would really appreciate an explanation,” Sal’ insisted.

Max rolled his eyes.  “As I told you, soon.”

I pulled my hand from Sal’s and ran it through my increasingly shaggy hair.  “Max, even if my father is somehow being controlled . . .”

“I know it is deeper than that, Korin.  Just put some trust in an old squirrel, okay?”

Having trusted Max nearly my entire life, it would’ve been a shame to stop now.  I’d never questioned him in the past.  When he was serious, I listened.  Somewhere along the line, that habit had been broken. 

“Okay, Max,” I answered, and not just to appease him.  His words really did ease the tightness in my chest and the weight pounding down on me.  Max was nothing if not honest.  He had a strong history of keeping the truth hidden, but not of lying. 

Even if I still dreaded the worst, Max’s words provided me a sliver of optimism.

“Now what?”Sal’ asked.  She lifted a hand towards Oreon but paused with a sharp intake of breath.  Her head swiveled back and forth, her brow drawn tightly.  “Something’s wrong.”

“What?” I asked, my hand going back to my sword. 

“You don’t feel it?  Max?”

Max shook his head, but his fur was bristling.  “What do you feel, Salmaea?”