Chapter Four: Convincing with Conversations

Rohan never realized how shabby Temra seemed until this very moment when he was riding up toward the castle. Many of its people were poor, and striving to make a living. Thank goodness Maeve was gone, for their sakes. She spent so much of her time trying to conquer Kells that she hardly paid attention to her own kingdom's needs. No doubt the castle itself would be more extravagant than anything these people had ever seen before in their lifetime.

Hearing arguing up ahead, he slowed his horse and cautiously approached. Hundreds of Temra soldiers were shouting and arguing while trying to get into the castle. There seemed to be some sort of invisible barrier around the castle, most likely magic. No one could enter. This was not good.

"Soldiers of Temra!" Rohan yelled, "What is happening here?"

The mob became silent, staring at Draganta in fear. Many stories have been told of "the man that could not be defeated." Rumor had it that some sort of dark magic was behind his success. One brave man stumbled forward.

"My Lord, Draganta! Please have mercy on this poor, defeated country! We are truly happy to be Kellsmen now, but are still looking for compensation. We have all come here to raid Maeve's castle, but none can enter. A dark magic is keeping all of us out! We fear that Lord Mider has convinced Numain to keep the kingdom as her own. Will you not help us? Help us as you have King Conchobar!"

Rohan dismounted his horse to stand before the crowd. They were a pitiful bunch, helpless and in need. They were his people now. Whether as a knight of Kells or a prince of Temra. The thought made him pause. If he accepted his family, he could be a king. When did this happen? Rohan King of Temra...his heart suddenly felt like lead sinking into his stomach. He never wanted to be king, yet the thought filled him with a terrible purpose. Shaking his head to clear it, he refocused on the problem at hand. Either way, it was his duty to help these people now.

"I have come not to raid the castle, but to find answers. Maeve has information here that I must find, information about this island. Nemain will not rule this country as long as I still draw breath. This, I swear! The Moorish Prince's chalice is to be returned to him, and the riches Maeve stole from her people returned. This castle shall become a safe-haven for its people. A place no longer for the rich, but for all in need. It is time to wash the stench of Maeve's evil from this island!"

With that said, he marched toward the entryway. The mob behind was cheering. Someone finally understands them! He wasn't going to take any gold for himself, he said, but give it to them! Who was this man? Surely if all the people of Kells, including its King, were like this man, life will be much better than it ever had been before. Ignoring the shouts behind him, Rohan called upon his armor and entered the castle. His armor allowed him to pass through the magic barrier unharmed. It was time to have a little chat with Nemain and Mider.

The castle was silent. A graveyard was not as silent as this empty fortress. Drawing his sword, Rohan slowly made his way to the throne room. Hearing muffled voices, he knew he was headed in the right direction.

"Ah, hear comes the valiant knight, now!" crowed Mider standing on the edge of a table next to Nemain.

"Well then, Mider." she said, turning to face the mystic knight. "It seems as though the time for a truce has finally arrived. Welcome home, Prince of Temra."

"Enough of your taunting, Nemain. I claim no tainted throne." Rohan snarled. He really hated those two. Mider had been half the reason Maeve was so bloodthirsty. And Nemain, well. Sometimes indifference was a worse crime than choosing sides.

"You may want to change your mind, Draganta. Here." she said, offering him a roll of parchment. "Come sit as we discuss the future of this island. You will want to read this." Taking a tentative step forward, Rohan eyed the pair suspiciously. "How do I know this is not a trap?"

Nemain rolled her eyes. "Because if I wanted the island, I would have sided with Maeve to destroy the Mystic Knights before turning against her. Use your head, boy! You destroy your biggest threat first in war. Now come, we both know Mider wants Tir na Nog, not Temra. Sheathe your sword and sit."

Rohan did as she asked without taking his eyes off either of them. Her words rang true, but he still did not trust either of them.

"Alright. Here's the deal. Mider leaves the chalice if you go to the treasury and retrieve one that Maeve has hidden. According to Mider, it will amplify his powers even more than his current dwelling. I then take Mider and this chalice back to my new kingdom across the sea."

Rohan looked back in forth between the two conspirators. It all seemed too simple. There had to be a catch. Something had been left unsaid. To say so, might insult them. No way he was going to upset them if they really were willing to leave the island voluntarily. He decided to steer around this until his other questions had been answered.

"And the magic in this castle.." "Will be dissolved as soon as we leave." interrupted Mider.

"And the treasury..." "Will be left to you to deal out as you see fit, minus the ancient chalice, of course." Nemain replied.

"Kells and Temra will never again be bothered by either you two, or Maeve." Rohan asked.

"We will not convince, help, or have contact with Maeve, or any other Tyrant. We leave, and we never return. It's as simple as that." Crooned Mider, shifting his eyes back to Nemain. Rohan felt that now would be the time to bring up his doubts. "What's the catch, Nemain. What are you not telling me?"

"See?" she told Mider. "I told you he was no fool. He has grown to be very wise. Much wiser than his mother..." Mider snorted. "Like that would take much effort..."

Nemain glared at the small man. He was always making trouble by opening his mouth. That would be the first thing to change once they left the country. He would be in so much debt to her for all this that his life would belong to her. Smirking, she gestured to the scroll in Rohan's hands.

"That in your hands is the other half of the ancient scroll of Draganta. You must go down to the treasury to retrieve the chalice because of the enchantments placed on it. You have Maeve's blood flowing through you, the wards will let you pass unharmed. But the deal is off if you do not do one more thing."

"And what, pray tell, is that?" asked Rohan.

"You finnish your quest. You must swear to follow the destiny laid out by the ancient scroll. You will make an oath to do this, or we stay here for a long, long, long time!"

Rohan unrolled the scroll and read through it. His eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious..." he whispered.

Mider just smirked. "Life is a bundle of joy, isn't it Draganta?"


Note: Sorry for the delay! I work for a High School Marching Band as a percussion tech., and we went to Nationals in Indianapolis this weekend. We won! OMG! The percussion section had their picture taken with myself, the drumline tech., and Head Percussion Director. It should be up on vicfirth's website soon. So as you can see, I wasn't sitting on my butt doing nothing!!!