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Part IX
Morning of Terminus, Thirtieth Day of Harvestmoon
The Heron returned to Angkor without further incident. Bram spent most of the time in his cabin, unwilling to risk further contact with Virgil. After falling victim to the chancellor's sorcery, he realized it would do no good to confront him directly. Mind compulsion was a rare and powerful art, and many countries banned it entirely—Angkor included. Instead, he would address the matter with his liege.
When his ship arrived at the capital, his navigations officer directed it into the military hangar, which was located deep underground. The entrance was a long vertical shaft, just outside the city walls, with a massively wide opening to accommodate the largest ships in the king's fleet. An impenetrable steel gate covered the entrance when the passage was not in use, to prevent the enemy from gaining access. It was part of a sophisticated underground military compound known as the Substratum.
Besides the hangar, the Substratum also contained military facilities such as training rooms, bunkers, an assembly hall, and of course the notorious dungeons. A long, circular stairwell spun around the center of the compound and connected each level to the surface. The passages eventually led to a small building in the capital's Inner Sanctum. Armed guardsmen stood on duty against possible infiltration, both inside and out.
Knowing how eagerly King Richard awaited his prize, Bram set off for the palace as soon as he reached the surface. His men followed closely behind, while Virgil marched by his side. Neither he nor the chancellor said a word to each other since leaving Minoa—and he preferred it that way. He intended to cite the unnecessary murders in the Minoan temple, and if possible, seek charges to be levied against the chancellor's use of forbidden magic.
Though he did not expect Richard to repudiate too harshly, the law mandated that the matter become public record, which would alert the wizard community. If lucky, the despicable man would be forced to endure many years of close monitoring—and in rare cases, rogue wizards who continued to disrespect the rules of their kind tended to be quietly assassinated before word of their deeds could harm the wizard community's already fragile reputation.
Inside the palace, the decorum relaxed as servants and honored guests went about their daily business. The Order of the Templars maintained order. They were the king's personal guard, and they had a strong reputation for their loyalty and discipline. Some claimed that a Templar could stand still for hours at a time without moving a muscle, but if anyone caused mischief, the Templar would leap from his post and take down the threat before any harm was done. Bram had his mind so focused on his speech with King Richard that he was shocked to have the Templar on duty deny him entrance to the throne room.
"What's the meaning of this?" Bram demanded. "King Richard expects me."
"Is Mister Garvey in your party, sir?" the Templar inquired.
Bram's heart sank. Not only was it an insult and violation of rank to allow a chancellor access before a Gnostic Knight, but it would also give Virgil a chance to sway Richard's opinion by telling a different side to the story. Bram barely had time to speak his mind before the chancellor pushed in front.
"I'm Virgil Garvey," he said.
The guard addressed him formally. "His Majesty requests your presence, sir. You have permission to enter."
Bram repressed his anger, glad to have his helmet to hide his sour expression. If Richard requested Virgil first, Bram had no choice but to wait his turn. His only solace was that he still possessed the sunstone—and of course expected his word and credibility to mean more than those of a newly appointed official. His hand went absently to his belt pouch, seeking comfort in the sunstone's presence. His fingers felt inside the leather case, rubbing the cold smooth surface. He let out a sigh of relief.
The Templar addressed Bram's soldiers. "You've been asked to return to your homes. The king will congratulate you later tonight with a celebration at his table. Sir Morrison—your presence is still required. You may sit in the meantime, or," the Templar gestured to a bench at the other side of the hall, "you may remain standing. I don't know how long it'll be."
"Forgive us, Captain," one of Bram's soldiers whispered, looking contrite.
Bram would not allow his men to share in his burden. They were his responsibility, and he intended to see them off with better spirits. "You performed your duty, soldier, and I've never had more pride in my crew. Now go—and if the king wills it, we'll speak again soon."
The soldier nodded and followed the others out of the main hall. Bram chose to remain standing until King Richard concluded his business with Virgil. No Gnostic would be caught dead sitting and waiting on a bench.
He spent the time rehearsing his interpretation of the events. The truth would not be easy to tell. He had to act responsively and intelligently to any accusations that Virgil might make against him. He found the speech difficult, since he did not quite believe it himself. Virgil's compulsion forced him and his men to perform atrocious acts that they would have never done on their own, but would Richard see it that way? Bram hoped his close ties and good record would stand up against the chancellor's chicanery.
While his mind filled with potential rebuttals, his gaze met that of the Templar on guard. Disappointingly, the man's helm hid his face—but his voice sounded familiar. Bram thought he might have met this man toward the end of the War, a time when King Richard sent his own elite forces to join the other ground units. Gnostics and Templars fought in the same platoon, and he remembered a few of them from the battle of Dobb's Plain. Their order only numbered in the dozens of men, so Bram felt he stood a good chance of knowing this particular man.
Several minutes passed, giving Bram more confidence in his defense. At that point, the door swung open and Virgil poked his head outside. He whispered something to the Templar, but the words were inaudible. Virgil might have used more magic to keep the conversation private.
The Templar turned to Bram. "Sir Morrison, His Majesty is ready to see you. Please proceed."
Bram wet his lips and entered the throne room. The Templar followed and closed the door behind them. Bram removed his helm out of respect, and beheld Richard's throne room.
The chamber was bathed in red, including the walls and carpets, but the sheer wealth saved it from being gaudy. Carnelian rubies dangled from drapes along the windows, while the crimson glow of a setting sun added gentle emphasis to the tone. Gold thread and diamonds made a path up the steps leading to the throne, where Richard Cromwell sat, his auburn beard complementing the rest of his décor. Two Templars stood at his sides, along with Virgil Garvey. It was a presumptuous place for a mere chancellor.
Bram knelt before his liege, holding the sunstone high above his head. "Your Grace, it's my honor and privilege to present you with your bounty, the Sunstone of Minoa."
Richard stood up and walked to the bottom of the stairs. The Templars followed him down. He spoke to Bram in bold words, in a proclamation that masqueraded as personal praise. "We thank you for completing your mission, Sir Morrison. On behalf of our nation and its people, we congratulate you for your success. You are asked to join us tonight as we celebrate your accomplishment."
"That would please me, Your Majesty."
Richard smiled. "Your king is also pleased. Now, hand me the sunstone."
Bram stood up, but hesitated before stepping forward. It was time to speak out against the travesties performed at the Minoan temple, or hold his peace forever.
"Your Majesty, it's my duty to report some details about the mission, concerning actions which may threaten our national interests. I request a chance to speak with you in private, since I intend to implicate … others in this room." Bram looked to Virgil's direction when he spoke, but the chancellor returned the look with a smug grin.
"There's no need," Richard responded. "Whoever you intend to implicate, they deserve to face their accuser."
Bram felt uneasy about accusing the chancellor in front of his face, but he was committed to delivering justice.
"Your Lordship, it concerns our confrontation in the Minoan temple. Your representative usurped my leadership by way of compulsion magic, and used his influence to murder the Minoan priests in what might have otherwise been a peaceful exchange under my supervision."
Richard looked over his shoulder back to Virgil. "Is this true, Mister Garvey?"
"It is, My Lord," the chancellor responded, "but I remind you that the Minoans are all accomplished wizards, with talents at least as great as my own. In all fairness to Sir Morrison, I don't think he recognized the magnitude of the threat. Rather than risk that one of these wizards would get the better of us, I chose to compel Sir Morrison and his soldiers to perform some tasks that were—let's say—modified from the original plan. My motives were only to act as expeditiously as possible at a critical moment."
Richard clasped his hands together, looking satisfied. "So it's settled."
"Not so fast!" Bram volleyed back, enraged that Virgil would imply that he was somehow incompetent and unable to recognize the threat. He wanted to charge forward and wrap his hands in a vice grip around the chancellor's throat, and it took all his self-restraint to pose a rational rebuttal.
"If the Minoans presented a danger, the proper protocol would have been to brief me beforehand. My mission statement mentioned no requirement for sorcery, or I'd have brought my own wizards. The fact is that I was told nothing of the mission, save for a pittance of details that Mister Garvey divulged at his own whim. And for what—so a chancellor from your court can embarrass our country for some … some trinket?"
"Control your tone in the king's court, Gnostic!" one of the Templars warned.
"Don't be alarmed," Richard placated with a calm and composed voice. "It's quite understandable that Sir Morrison is upset." He assumed a fatherly tone. "I'll give you peace of mind, my old friend, but first I ask that you hand over the sunstone. Don't make me ask again."
Bram stepped forward hastily to present the artifact. As he placed it on his monarch's up-faced palm, he saw it flash blue, just as it had done in the Minoan temple. In that instant, he saw something inside. It was a man—he was certain—but not a reflection of anyone in the room. As soon as Richard grasped it, the image disappeared.
"Your Majesty," Bram bowed, apologetically.
Richard cradled the stone tenderly, as a mother would an infant. One of the Templars fetched a silver tray, and held it before the king. After staring with wonder at its multi-faceted surface, Richard reluctantly placed it on the tray, and shifted his attention back to Bram.
"First, let me assure you that the confidentiality of the mission was put foremost before the details. I never intended to withhold the truth, and it's lamentable that the secrecy left you unprepared. Fortunately, I assigned a trusted ally to supervise. With Mister Garvey's aid, you completed your task in spite of the confusion. So it seems that everything worked out in the end."
Bram shook his head. "My Lord, I don't understand. How has a mid-level official so thoroughly earned your trust?"
Richard sighed. "I'd hoped you'd realize by now that Mister Garvey's title simply a formality." He paused, stroking his beard as if in deep thought. "I expect you to keep this confidential until I proclaim it officially, but I've already laid plans for Virgil to succeed to the role of First Advisor to the King."
Bram felt the blood drain from his face. He bowed his head, hoping to hide his expression. He was a fool—a damned fool! Virgil was untouchable as First Advisor, a position that would grant him power second only to Richard himself! Bram felt humiliated, and expected retribution to come in short order. He badly wanted to be out of the king's sight, but was trapped in front of his overpowering gaze.
"There's just one more matter, Sir Morrison."
"Yes, Sire?" Bram braced himself for what he knew was coming.
"Your words today have left a bitter taste. The sunstone may appear to you as a trinket, but did you not trust that I had a good reason to demand it from the Minoans?"
"Of course, My Lord!" Bram burst out, hoping to lessen the impending punishment. "You know of my years of loyalty and service. I've put you—and this country—before my own life on numerous occasions!"
"Indeed you have, Sir Morrison, but you must realize the burden this puts on the knighthood to have one of its members call my judgment into question."
Bram stood tall and confident. "I assure Your Lordship that I had no such intention. Yet I wonder how a man whom I've never met is suddenly granted a seat at your right hand—or how a Gnostic is to perform his duties if not briefed of his tasks beforehand. I simply want to ensure that those in whom you've placed your trust do not deceive you. Therefore, I ask if this prize is worth the value you've placed on it, or the impact to our nation's pride and reputation to have murdered lowly priests in order to obtain it."
Bram stood awaiting his judgment. Not that he intended to challenge a king, but he had the courage to defend his liege from someone who he believed to be a charlatan. If that should lead to repudiation, then so be it.
Richard only smiled. "Your intrepidity is a nod to the knighthood, Sir Morrison. It's true that the sunstones have been around for most of recorded history, and while many scholars have studied them, no one has ever discovered anything of value. The Gaians have always claimed a connection with the Divine, but only a fool would put their faith in a dead religion."
Richard had a glint in his eye and a passion for his words, as if he had practiced them a hundred times. "Therefore, I forgive your skepticism and applaud your sensibilities. After all, if there were powers within the sunstones, why should we be the first to discover them? How did our enemies fall to our might during the War, when they could have used their own sunstones against us? I believe a demonstration is in order."
Richard headed back to the silver platter that held the sunstone, while his smug-looking and soon-to-be First Advisor joined him.
"I ask that you come to the top of the stairs, Sir Morrison," Richard invited, "and witness the sky outside this window."
The view behind the throne gave an exquisite panorama of the surrounding district. Dusk slowly settled, and the last rays of sunlight bathed the trees and fountains in a gentle light. Virgil bent toward his king and whispered a few inaudible words into his ear.
Richard took the sunstone in his left hand and chanted words in the language of magic. He extended his arms, and dark clouds gathered from the outskirts of the orange sky, casting menacing shadows over the capital. The dull rumble of thunder reverberated through the palace's thick walls, sending people outside quickly running for cover. In moments, the clouds swirled and twisted like water spiraling down a drain. Darkness covered the courtyard, and forks of lightning streaked across the sky.
Bram knew that Richard had little or no training in wizardry, but with the sunstone's powers, he had control over unfathomable magic. Somehow, the forces inside the stone had been unlocked. The king curled the fingers of his right hand into a fist, and a bolt of pure divine energy shot down from the heavens, engulfing one of the tall oaks in a pillar of flame. Richard let it burn for a moment, but then he relaxed his fist into a flat palm. A downpour of rain fell directly onto the oak, quenching the fire.
In place of the once mighty tree, a charred and blackened trunk now stood, with most of the lesser branches consumed by the fire. Richard lowered his arms, and the storm disappeared. The quiescent sky returned, and the final rays of sunlight streamed through the window. Except for the skeletal remains of the oak, the courtyard was once again at peace.
Wearing a satisfied smile, Richard hurried to one of his Templars and ordered him to leave the manor and assure the people outside that they would be safe, and have nothing more to fear from the sky that day.
Bram merely stared out the window in disbelief, unable to repress the anxiety that stirred in his heart. He had seen with his own eyes the power and might of the sunstone. "Your Majesty … forgive my earlier skepticism! I had no idea the sunstone was capable of such might!"
"It has a name, you know," Richard explained as he approached, the sunstone still in his hands. The last rays of sunlight glinted across its many facets. "Long ago, people called it the Pisces Stone. Of course, that name hasn't been used for centuries. There are three others like it, but the kingdoms that possess them have no concept of their power. That's why we upheld the utmost confidentiality in your mission. You can imagine how exposed we'd be, if our enemies learned to utilize this power. They'd surely use it against us."
"But how did you come to learn of these powers?" Bram asked.
Richard hardly needed to respond. Bram saw the smile that crept upon Virgil's lips.
"Ah yes," the king mused. "Now you understand. Mister Garvey happened upon this discovery, and of course brought it to my attention. We owe him much for his loyalty."
Bram's insides were overturned with anger. No wonder Virgil was so overconfident. He had known the sunstone's secret before the mission to Minoa ever began, and Bram was a fool to ever challenge him. But what now? He needed to know the extent of Richard's ambition.
"So I suppose you intend to reclaim the others?" he asked.
"But of course, Sir Morrison. No nation in history has ever possessed all four. With their combined might, ours would become the greatest empire that has ever existed!"
"How then would you go about it? Return to war with Koba and Kitezh by seizing theirs by force?"
Richard laughed. "What else would you have me do? Allow my enemies to learn of these powers over time, so that they can use their own sunstones against us? We have no recourse but to be the aggressor, before word of this power can spread."
Bram said nothing. His king had reason to laugh, if it were only that simple. And yet, it felt so wrong.
"Your Majesty," Virgil interjected, "I simply can't stand by while you lecture to this Gnostic on a course so flawless and obvious that it is painful for others to watch. Either he's with us or against us. I'll leave it to your wisdom to determine which."
Bram's blood boiled with rage. He would not allow the manipulative bastard to direct his king's anger against him. "How dare you—" he growled.
"Be at ease, Sir Knight," Richard urged. "I ask you plainly—where is your heart in this matter?"
For once in his life, Bram searched his feelings. His first instinct was to follow King Richard unquestioningly, but he thought about the Minoans, who had recently felt the wrath of Angkor's might. With Richard aiming for all of the sunstones, where would it leave the rest of the world? Would his ambitions seek to subjugate all of Gaia?
No. Bram knew his king, and the man was not a tyrant. In fact, he had passed on much of Angkor's prosperity to its citizens since the end of the War. If more pain and suffering was in store for Richard's enemies, then surely it would lead to peace and prosperity for his allies. Bram's loyalties had always been well placed in his liege, and he saw no reason not to stay the course.
"My Lord, despite what your First Advisor thinks of me, I am loyal to you in all ways." He finished with an appropriately low and humble bow.
"Your Majesty, his words are not convincing," Virgil argued. "You explained your cause in good faith, yet he hesitates—and his face is filled with doubt. If he truly supported us, his eyes would be afire with lust for this power."
Bram would not stand by while this filthy dog besmirched his honor in front of his own king! He reached for his sword in anger, a move that was followed quickly by a reaction from the Templars. Bram knew he would never close the distance to Virgil before they struck him down.
"Remember you're in the presence of the king, knave!" one of the Templars shouted. Bram removed his hand from his sword and waited for them to relax. They did not.
"Virgil, I see no reason to condemn this man," Richard stated in Bram's defense. "He's already proven his trustworthiness. What more would you ask of him?"
Virgil paused, no doubt conjuring a fitting contest. He gestured for Richard to draw near, at which point he whispered a suggestion in his ear.
"Ah, yes," Richard nodded, looking satisfied. Turning his attention to Bram, he asked, "Are you familiar with the tribes living in the Mountains of Ur?"
"The Conjurions?" Bram was baffled, but he gave an honest answer. "I know of them, My Lord, but I've never been to that region."
"Few people have," Richard explained. "It's a remote valley high in the mountains, and there's little reason to venture so far. However, it's come to my attention that they've grown to resent our reach and influence, and now they've threatened us with their powers."
"How much of a threat can they be," Bram wondered, "especially now that we have the sunstone's power? Surely we can defend ourselves from any attack."
"It's not the tribesmen themselves that we are worried about," Richard answered. "Rather, the threat is from their unique magical powers."
Bram shook his head, failing to make the connection, so Richard continued his explanation.
"The Conjurion tribe has the power to summon spawn into our world. We now know that the infestation of creatures in this area is the direct result of their witchcraft—and yet, what we've seen to date is a mere fraction of their powers. Unfortunately, with their homeland protected by the mountains, the power of the Pisces Stone is not enough. Our airships are unable to penetrate the wall of fog that surrounds their village, and neither can I spare my ground forces, since I need them to acquire the other sunstones. What I need is a more tactical infiltration, led by someone with your expertise."
Bram finally understood. "You'd like me to deal with the Conjurion threat. I'd be honored, My Lord. What would you have me do?"
"I need you to assassinate their chief."
"Their chief, Sire? Would that not enrage them further?"
"Nay, our generals believe the current chief to be the source of their animosity. They believe that eliminating the tribal leader will calm their anger, and allow us time to acquire the other sunstones."
Bram did not like the idea of going from one mission of bloodshed to another, but at least he understood the reasons behind it. If the tribal chief was willing to incite violence, then he had to be eliminated.
"I accept the mission, Your Majesty. By my sword, I'll slay the Conjurion chief."
"Excellent, Sir Morrison," Richard responded happily. "If you accomplish this task, I'll invite you within my inner circle. Only a small number know of my full ambitions. If we accomplish our goals, the rewards shall be greater than you could possibly imagine."
Richard turned to the Templar behind him and whispered something. The man went to a cabinet at the back of the room, and retrieved what appeared to be a small metal box with red runes carved on the sides. He handed the box to Richard, who directed his attention back to Bram.
"Allow me to explain your mission. First and foremost, the tribesmen must never learn that Angkor is responsible for the assassination. We've therefore prepared a device that you must plant nearby the chief's location. Once you accomplish this task, you must return to Angkor without being seen."
"How does the device work, exactly?" Bram asked.
"Good that you should ask, Sir Morrison. I'll let Mister Garvey explain."
Bram's nemesis approached, causing his body to tense with hatred.
"This ordinary chest has been constructed with black magic," the vile man explained. "If placed nearby the chief, its magic will search out and kill on its own. All it requires is a charge from the Pisces Stone to give it power."
Virgil nodded to Richard, who still had the sunstone within his grasp. Richard spoke more words of magic, and touched the stone to the box. For a moment, the box glowed with a soft red hue.
"Careful you don't jar it too strongly," Virgil warned, his mouth upturned in a grin. "I assure you—you won't want it opened prematurely."
Bram took the box and placed it carefully under his arm. He wanted nothing more than to be out of the room and away from the contemptible man who single-handedly stripped him of his rank and usurped his relationship with his king.
"Shall I take my leave, Sire?" he asked with a bow.
"Not just yet," Richard responded. "I've arranged a guide for your mission. He can lead you through the mountains of Ur, and help to combat any spawn you encounter."
"It won't be necessary, Your Majesty. I have all the necessary training."
"You may want to reconsider, Sir Morrison," Richard warned. "The mountain route is fraught with danger, including one spawn in particular that is known to be quite strong. It is certain to block your path."
"Who is this guide?" Bram wondered.
"It is I, Bram."
He spun around to greet the Templar guard from earlier. The man strode forward and removed his helm, revealing a man of about thirty years, with dark blond hair loosely tied back. A short stubble covered his cheeks and chin, neatly shaped along the contours. His neck and upper lip were cleanly shaven. Bram could tell the last decade had aged him prematurely, especially around the eyes. Even so, he recognized his old friend instantly.
"Kane … I can't believe it's you, after all these years," he stated, taken completely by surprise.
For an instant, his anger and disappointment disappeared, replaced with joy and nostalgia. His heart was still heavy with the burden of his demotion, but seeing Kane was small reprieve, and a glorious interruption from the embarrassment he had just endured.
"I take it you know this man?" Richard asked.
Bram faced his liege. "Yes, My Lord. We grew up on the outskirts of Niedam, and also spent time together at the Academy before Kane left to join the Templars."
"Then it appears to be serendipity," Richard concluded. "Now that it's settled, you shall both leave for Ur first thing tomorrow."
Bram bowed again before his king. "Yes, Sire."
After leaving the throne room, Bram felt a firm grip on his shoulder. Kane had followed him out.
"I know this isn't how you would've wanted us to reunite, Bram."
Bram nodded, still too humiliated to respond. After a decade long absence, he did not want his first encounter with his childhood friend to be while ostracized before his own king.
Even so, Kane was well composed, and wore a look of warmth and confidence. "I'm here to support you. This exercise is the only thing that stands in the way of an opportunity of a lifetime. I also want to hear about your life since leaving the Academy. In the meantime, I'll leave you to prepare for the banquet tonight."
Bram had almost forgotten about the king's celebration. After all that had happened, he wanted to hide from the prying eyes and sharp whispers of Richard's court. But after Kane's words of support, he felt he had to muster something.
"We'll talk more tomorrow, then," he said.
"I'll look forward to it," Kane returned
Bram made an effort to smile and left the palace.