Swords
The ship slowed as it approached the large, triangular contraption that shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors. Lotor had never seen lazon used in such large quantities before. He heard the voices of the gate controllers talking with the crewmen as they exchanged coordinates. The ship's science officer was describing the physics behind the gates – but Lotor was not listening. His senses were being overwhelmed by the energy source he saw throbbing before him. As they approached he felt the air charge with static electricity. For a moment, the cabin filled with the dancing lights, every color visible on the spectrum swirled around him. Then, there was a sudden flash. He felt a bit queasy as his body reoriented itself to time and place. The men had expected him to heave up his stomach contents but he felt no real discomfort. He looked out of the bridge windows and let out a toothy grin. As if by some miracle, Korrinoth was in the distant horizon. Its gray clouds hung heavily over its even darker oceans, the planetary power grid giving some symmetry to the dark chaos below. He was home.
Lotor was hustled off the transport and, as usual, he did not find his father to greet him. His first stop was to the fortresses' kitchens where he knew he would find cook and a platter of meat. It was later that evening he would meet with Borak, his father's most trusted advisor; and Timon, a security officer.
Zarkon found his security officer soon after he had left his son. He was curious to his son's reactions to the humans. He had only encountered them as slaves before this trip. It was his child's first prolonged contact with aliens in their own environment.
"My Liege, he speaks their tongue fluently. He seems to have a rudimentary grasp of their ethos." The intelligence officer gave his report as succinctly as possible.
"Does he sympathize with them?" Zarkon asked. His greatest fear being that the boy had become too human during his stay.
"He has affection for the princess he was housed with" Other than that, I do not think he was contaminated by them. He thinks the humans are weak and inferior to the Drules." Zarkon was pleased with the officer's response.
"Is he ready for the Academy?" The officer drew a deep breath. He was not sure what his king wanted to hear.
"Sir, he is so small." The officer replied.
"I did not ask about his size...I asked if he could handle it." The king's look of impatience was growing.
"The academics will not be a problem. Your son is quite remarkable in that area. But at his current height and weight I estimate that he has a 22.8% chance of survival. Give or take 2% points. If he waits another two years, his survival chances increase to 90%. The man hastily threw out the figures. "My Liege, the other cadets of the First Kingdom will not know he is yours. Perhaps he should train with our warriors's children."
"...And deny him the greatest warmasters. Timon, I am not worried about a bunch of pompous First Kingdom schoolboys." The king had a cruel smile on his face. The officer was not amused. Timon had just spent two days debriefing the boy and had developed a fondness for him. The boy had been quite charming and he wished him no harm.
"Sir, I would counsel against you sending him. The Academy of Neraku produces officers that are vile and treacherous. They spend every minute plotting against each other. They would hire an assassin to take out their own mother without a second thought if it would advance their own career. Think what they will do to your son?" It was rare that an officer would question his judgment. In truth, he should be throwing Timon in the dungeon for a few days in order to clear the man's head, but a part of him was pleased with the man's concern for his child. Most of the court detested the fact that he had appointed Lotor as Crown Prince, only his warmasters had been behind the move.
"I am counting on what you fear. I know Lotor better than you do. If he can stand up to me, what makes you think he will crumble before one of them. It is time for him to get a real taste for blood." The Great King seemed confident all would work out well. "Send him. Worse comes to worse, I have two spare heirs waiting in the wings."
The officer bowed but Zarkon could still sense the feelings of grief he felt for the boy. Zarkon sighed. It was rare that he showed any warmth towards his officers. They were nothing to him but tool, but to use tools properly one did have to learn how to work them. He watched his men carefully. He knew Timon had a deep love for his wife and children. So much that he never took part in the debauchery of the court or took pleasure from one of the court slaves as his rank entitled him too.
"You have a son about Lotor's age. You brought him to the Castle during the Kevos Celebration." Timon nodded, shocked that the Great King would remember something so trivial.
"Did he place well in his exams?" The king asked in a relaxed manner. He already knew that the boy placed high.
"Very well, in the top 5%." The officer answered with a proud look on his face. A funny thought had crossed Zarkon's mind – he knew more about this officer's child than his own.
"What academy will he attend." The king pressed on.
"Our family goes to Rissalos." The man looked down. His family's station, like that of most Korronites, had been set for generations. He was not complaining. They lived in a very respectable life with a fine house full of food.
"Not anymore. Now they go to Firos. It will be arranged." Timon's eyes flew open. The King was sending his oldest son to Command School. He fell to his knees and thanked the Great King profusely.
"Timon, I order you to stop worrying about Lotor. Throw away that stupid clipboard. You intel types put to much faith in your statistics. The boy will manage fine. It does not matter that the other cadets do not know who he is. He knows who he is. He is Lotor, son of Zarkon, the Demon King." He gave a small wink to the delighted officer.
"Oh, by the way, how did my son place on his exams. I have not seen the scores. Borak usually takes care of those things." Timon gave him a funny look.
"Sir, you did not know that he took First Place. It was in the news." Timon said incredulously.
"He took first place in swords at a magistrate school. Not something that the media should even mention." The king grumbled back. It was time to end this interview. His schedule was packed for the day.
"Sire, that is not what I am referring too. He took First Place in the entire city. I was there when Magistrate Borak picked up the award for him. I have seen it in his office." The officer answered slowly. He could see the anger rising in Zarkon's eyes.
Later, that afternoon Zarkon stormed into his Royal Magistrate's office. Borak jumped up and fell into submission when he saw Zarkon enter. It was rare that Zarkon made his way down to his office and the man was startled at the Great King's appearance. He sensed the king's mood and began to tremble, but Zarkon said nothing as he moved right past him. He quickly scanned the office walls and grabbed the framed certificate. He noticed it was next to a matching certificate and growled. He glared at Borak. He wanted to throw the man up against the wall but tempered himself.
"You could have told me." Zarkon snarled.
"My Lord, I did in a memo. It was the one that I requested the flight trainer. It was a gift to celebrate his accomplishment." Zarkon took a deep breath. Borak could not be helped for what he was.
"I thought it was for the Tactical Strike Team. I assumed you negotiated the contract with the factory. You tricked me." Zarkon tried to put some anger into his voice, but mostly he was trying to suppress a laugh.
"No. You were bogged down with trade talks with the Langorthians. " Borak answered innocently. "They were difficult negotiations and I did not want to bother you with details."
"You took First, did you not?" The king grumbled.
"As did my son." Borak's face relaxed. "I tried to guide Lotor to discipline himself to the Law. It will help him rule later on."
"I am sending a legalist to the Academy at Neraku. Gods help him." Zarkon roared with delight at the notion. "Old friend, I never truly thanked you for your help. Is there a favor your King may grant you?" Zarkon clutched the framed certificate.
"If it is possible, when you invade Arus, please spare the princess. He has a fondness for her." Borak gave a deep bow to his King.
"Magistrates always request the strangest things.. I will try. By the time he graduates the Academy she might make a good present. By then, he should have an interest in something rather than a flight trainer." Zarkon mused.
"My Lord, is there anything else that you require of me?" Zarkon shook his head. The king left the magistrate's office with a bounce in his step. He ordered his assistant to call up housekeeping to place the certificate in his study. He thought to call in the boy and congratulate him but something would go wrong. It always did. He would go down and say his farewell at the landing bay. For once, he was determined not to argue with the boy.
Lotor had been disappointed that his father would not see him. He wanted to tell him about Arus. He had many things that needed sorting out. The humans had confused him. The only part of his trip that he did not want to share with his father was Allura. His father would have beaten him if he knew how attached he was to the girl. Instead he had confessed all these things to Borak. Borak would nod and listen. He was a man of secrets. He would keep his affection for the girl quiet.
After the last transport landed, Zarkon had actually come looking for his son. He had found the boy sitting in his bedroom. He was talking excitedly with Borak who appeared totally fixated on Lotor's tale. He was surprised that neither felt his presence. Lotor's hands were gesticulating wildly as he was describing his first dive off a waterfall. He was telling Borak about the princess that had followed him everywhere, like a ghoul dog pup. They were laughing. Lotor was actually smiling, something Zarkon had rarely seen him do since his mother had died. As Lotor leaned over close to whisper something to Borak, his hair strayed into Borak's face. Borak moved it away and placed it gently behind the boy's ear. Zarkon's eyes flew open as Lotor did nothing to stop it. They both heard the door slam but by the time they had gone to see who it was the person was gone. They both shrugged, spying around the Castle was a favorite pasttime for all who resided and worked there.
Lotor had little time with Borak before Timon arrived. The man had kind eyes. He was one of his father's intelligence officers. He told Lotor he had a son his age. Lotor thought it an odd thing to bring up. The man was obviously trying to strike a rapport with him, but to remind him that there were children with other realities never helped. Lotor tried to imagine this man with his son. The boy would be greeted with affection, not blows. He would get a safe job in the intelligence branch, find a nice wife and make children that he would not have to bury. He would never know a real Arena. He would die a happy man.
Timon had been surprised by the boy. He had not known that he had the ability to sense other's emotions until their meeting. He went on and on about the human fear of the Drules. He had said again and again that he could sense their weaknesses. He could read a human's face. These things would be useful and were noted in his report. The king would be pleased that this ability had been passed on in his offspring.
Lotor went back to his rooms and collapsed on the large white coach that was placed in front of a viewing screen. He loved this particular piece of furniture. His father had ordered his mother's suite demolished and it was only by happenstance that he saw the couch going to the rubbish bin. He had paid two of the guards to bring it to his room. Even after all of these years he could still catch a whiff of Althea's perfume. She would tell him stories as he drifted off to sleep in her arms. His father had never once visited his suite so he never feared it would be discovered. He decided to put on the video screen hoping to find something interesting to watch. Instead, much to his dismay, his dismissal from Arus was the featured news story. The story would not die. His father, he surmised, would not let it.
Lotor had been at the Castle for only a week when he heard about his imminent departure for Neraku. He considered it odd when he found out he was leaving so soon. The school year did not start for another four months. His father had often gone to Neraku, and he was home within a week. Lotor then saw the ship that was bringing him, an old style transport. His father really knew how to torture him. The trip would take months. He definitely was not going to be arriving in style. Knowing his father, he was probably going to be berthed in the cargo hold with the livestock.
An officer tapped him on his soldier and directed him to where his father was standing. Lotor saw his father talking to Warmaster Charak. In his father's hands was a case of red leather emblazoned with a gold imprint. It was the swords that his father had commissioned so long ago. His father was pointing to him and smiling. Charak motioned him over and Lotor stood before them.
"Sire, your humble son brings you affection." Lotor offered. His father told him to rise.
"Well son, none of us thought you would actually make it in, but the Millitary Academy at Neraku has agreed to accept you. Do not embarrass me." He roughly shoved the case in his son's hands.
"I will not disappoint you." Lotor looked up into the impossibly tall man's eyes. Charak even looked small standing next to him.
"Warmaster Charak has decided to take a posting there as Master of Arms. He will accompany you on the transport." His father added. "He will continue your training on the journey."
"I am honored." Prince Lotor bowed deeply to the warmaster. A wide smile crossed the boy's face. Zarkon could sense the boy's delight in his traveling companion. Zarkon looked away. When was the last time his son had given him a smile like that, maybe when he was six.
"Remember who you are – and you will do fine." Zarkon reached over to touch Lotor's head. Out of reflex, he pulled back. After all, he was not used to his father's caress. For a moment, Zarkon wished things were different between a child who seemed to be more comfortable around his magistrate and a cranky, retired warmaster than his father. Worlds, Zarkon mused, were easy to conquer. Hearts were another matter.
Lotor stared at the case as if waiting for some type of permission to open it. He never knew how to act around the man he called father. One word or look would bring down his wrath and those hated fists.
"Open it. You never got to use that flight trainer Borak ordered. I am proud that you took First." He handed the case over to Charak and gingerly snapped open the locks. His mouth dropped in astonishment as he picked up the first sword and the second. They felt like he was holding on to air as he lit them up. He pirouetted around with them and crossed the blades together.
"Father, I have never felt or seen anything like these before. They are magnificent." The boy exclaimed. His face was shining with the excitement of the gift. He turned them off and put them gingerly in the box. He knew they were worth a king's ransom – it had probably taken three years to cut the lazon crystals. It would have taken months to carve and fit the handles. They were not factory made. The artist probably spent weeks in meditation on their design.
"They were made by Renar himself. I had them commissioned the day after your birth. I think you will do them justice." Lotor swallowed hard when he head heard those words. Of course, they were ordered then. That was the only way they would have been ready for his seventh cycle when his father was supposed to start training him. Zarkon felt his son's intense pleasure turn to bitterness but he did not know why. The boy was an enigma. Any Drule child, a prince or a shopkeeper's boy, knew the value of Renar's swords. The child was ungrateful.
"It is a spectacular gift father. None are their equal. Thank you." All the pleasure had been directed towards the swords and none at the Great King. Charak watched the two interact, each seeming to want more than what was offered. Charak heard the Great King sigh and excuse himself. He left the two of them on the platform.
"Has it always been like this?" Charak murmured.
"Since my mother died. So, Charak, are you going to be my babysitter?" The boy mused as they walked towards the transport.
"No, shoshi, I am going to teach you how to kill a man and think nothing of it. In fact, by the time I am through with you, you will actually be craving it. It is time to put your books away. We are leaving the realm of the theoretical." The boy turned around and looked at the night sky. He looked at the stars above. It was a rare sight to see them so clearly. They showed so brightly that he could have been on Arus. It was a gentle reminder of what had passed as reality but was now no more than a dream quickly forgotten.
"I doubt I shall crave it. I am too human." Lotor cried out exasperated. He could feel his panic rising as they walked towards the transport.
"My Prince, a human can kill as easily as a Drule. One only has to look at their history to prove that they are the more bloodthirsty species. They just like to keep their bloodlust sanitized. We, on the other hand, need to see ours in action. Your genetics will not prove a liability and may even make it easier. We have four months, plenty of time." Charak crooned to the boy. Lotor sensed fear in Charak. He wrongly interpreted the feeling. He thought that Charak did not think he could do what he had promised the Great King and feared his father's anger. Instead, had he asked the man, he would have found out it was the opposite. He was afraid that he could not reign in all the anger that the boy felt inside. He feared that the boy was beyond discipline. He had seen something akin to an uncontrollable bloodlust in the small arena at the school . There were those among them that could find this state easily. Usually, society disposed of them as they were dangerous. But how by the gods do you get rid of an imperial crown prince?
For the first time in his life, Lotor did not have to think about anything – except fighting, sleeping and eating. Hours on end, Charak came at him. If it was not with his own body, it was with a virtual trainer set up in the transport. His father had gone to great expense to install it. Its blows felt as real as anything but they were imaginary in the end. Only the pain was real. Charak could stop it or prolong it with a touch of a button.
There were days when he left the boy on the ground sobbing and begging for mercy before it stopped. Finally, it was only when he did not ask for mercy that Charak would discontinue the exercises that led to agonizing pain. Crew members would come by and look in horror as the man calmly tortured the boy. Sometimes, he would ask them to bring a drink or magazine as he patiently watched the boy. There were times when Lotor would curse him and promise his death. Charak would laugh pleased with the threats of the tormented youth.
Eventually, as Neraku approached, the torture stopped. It was time to sit down and have a serious talk with his prince. One that he did not look forward to as the boy could be very sensitive about these matters.
"When we arrive you will not know me." For various reasons, you are no longer Prince Lotor of the Ninth Kingdom. You are a magistrate's son who placed well on the exams. Your king saw potential in you and had graciously paid your tuition. Your father has been known to do this for his officers' sons, so it wil not be looked at as unusual." Charak said as if changing his identity would be like changing his bed sheets.
"And what purpose does this serve?" Lotor asked, annoyed at having to give up his social rank and privilege.
"Your father does not want you acting like all the other nobles' spoiled brats. Most of them are inheriting governorships or are ruling some municipalities – nothing that will demand a lot after they graduate. You, my boy, will be expected to run a huge domain. You need to concentrate on strategy, law, economics and political science. Your father has little love for these rich boys and their decadent distractions. In fact, there is only going to be one other imperial prince while you are there – he is a nasty one called Skath. He'll be a year ahead of you. Keep off his radar." Charak rattled on as he opened up his third bottle of wine.
"From now on, you are no longer Prince Lotor but Cadet Carris." Lotor's eyes opened up and he snorted as Charak handed him a new birth certificate.
He read over the birth certificate and gasped. It listed Borak and Driedal, his much put upon wife as his parents. Carris was his mother's family name of Arus. His father's sense of humor had no bounds, or maybe it was Borak's. He could never tell who was who.
"Carris, really Charak? Who would think that was a Drule name?" He murmured.
"Well, it is better than Lotor. I think you are probably the only child in the whole Universe with that miserable appellation. Althea was such a bitch." Charak said with a bit of admiration in his voice. "What a slap – and your father could do nothing about it. Only a mother can name a child. She would have been an excellent magistrate."
"You knew her? You have never mentioned that before." Lotor looked at him. Of course, Lotor reasoned, he was a warmaster at court when she had lived. Their paths must have crossed."
"Not much to say." Charak shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
"Was she as hated as everyone has told me?" Lotor looked up at the tall man. The boy's eyes were focused like a laser on him.
"By the women, for sure." Charak sleepily answered.
"And the men?" Lotor asked.
"They would have all given their right eye to have one night with that woman. Gods we lusted after her. But that is not a story for a little boy to hear about his mother. Let us say she had an irresistible charm. It is late. It time for you to retire." The warmaster stopped up the bottle and pointed to the door.
"Did he love her?" Lotor's last question stuck in his throat.
"She was his lotor and you were hers. And that is all you need to know about Zarkon and Althea. For your sake, I hope you never find yours. It is the curse that the High Drule falls so easily to." Charak gave a small caress to his ears.
"Too late, Warmaster Charak. I already have. I have been to paradise. It is Arus." And at that, Lotor pushed away from the table. Charak's mouth dropped. Had any other child had said those words he would not have believed it. But then again, had any other child been cursed with such parents to begin with. The gods must have thought they were clever when they created such a boy.
Charak grabbed a bottle of wine and made it back to his quarters. He wondered how he got here in his old age. His thoughts went back to Zarkon's court when he was younger and still confident in his abilities as a warmaster. For two years, he had spied her when he came to visit. For two years, he had lusted after that magnificent creature. Zarkon had dismissed one of the most glorious harems ever assembled and replaced it with a woman who did not want his affections but still the Great King seemed totally satisfied.
The warmaster thought that the woman might find him more desirable. Had she not gushed over his prowess in the Arena. Had she not danced with him provocatively during the Festival of Kator. Her eyes screamed of want and desire for him, of that, he was sure. Sadly, every one of Zarkon's warmasters had thought the same thing at one point or another. Truth be told, she hated the lot of them. It just amused her to cause trouble for her mate.
Charak stood up and challenged the Demon King for her, like many others before. The challenge caused the court to gasp as there was finally a warmaster who could actually best the Great King. The court wondered if Zarkon would give up his jewel to preserve his life. The magistrates filed the challenge in the Imperial Court as Charak was sworn to Zeppo. Zeppo was not to miss this and ordered both men to Drule to battle before him. Zarkon accepted but many thought he would withdraw at the last moment and hand Althea to the legendary swordmaster. Charak was undefeated.
Charak still wondered about what went wrong that day. Zarkon barely moved a muscle but had somehow cleaved his helmet in two. Blood ran down his head as he offered submission and had to beg Zeppo to release him from his vassalage. Only by doing that, and swearing himself to the Korrinoth crown, would his life be spared. He should have won. Instead, he was now sworn to Zarkon for eternity, all for the sake of Althea. Zarkon, he learned then, never could let go of anything he loved. He would rather destroy it than let anyone else possess it.