Chapter Five: Diplomacy and Daggers
In the private chamber where the Kings of Coneria had met with diplomats for ages, the Four stood, silently, each dressed in their proper attire. The two mages, one in white and the other a dark blue, bowed low, along with the thief dressed as a lord and the silent knight. Candles reached out to the depths of the room, lighting it with an overtone of darkness crept in from the shadows of night.
The king stood; there was no throne in the chamber, for it had been custom for the king to stand with others. King Lyr's powerful personality and gracefulness, like a sleek snow leopard, still shone with his graying age. Old kings, like soldiers, never died...they faded away. But Lyr's time was not ripe for that.
He surveyed them with the utmost sincerity, dressed in rich silk and linen, hand not on a scepter but a fine blade. The only jewel he wore was his ring, while his crown was decorated not with diamonds and rubies but stars and moons, carved into the band. His looks were grandfatherly and cautious, experience showing from both the aged lines of his face and the peticularity of his steps. He walked a straight line, back and forth, watching the four.
"Who would have predicted, would have thought, that in all these years of Coneria, the fate of the kingdom lies in the grasp of one old man and four young warriors?" He stopped walking among them, turned, smiling.
"What will the nobles, the lords, and diplomats think when I present with them four warriors, one, just a knight-" he gave Klad an apologetic smile, "two, a mage of magic which has been hated ever since the Fall of our creators, and a third, a common thief of our northern stronghold."
He stopped at the last, looking curiously at the lowered eyes of the black mage. "And last, a mysterious man, also a mage, but who has the looks of the Dark Lords of Amlador and Tekam. Or are you man?" The king's hand reached out, to uncloaked the man, but his hands stopped, as if some invisible force stopped him from lifting the cloak.
"If it pleases your majesty, my eyes are sensitive to the light," Bane said.
Klad reached for his sword, ready to yank the hood away from the mage for his king. But Lyr gently waved away any request for his knight to intervene, and Klad's hand loosened on the hilt of his sword.
"The world has been full of peril, every Age of Gaia's long life. The time when our creators lived and fought against the Alatari seems like myths of the common man of everyday, but now those myths are so close to reality." Lyr sighed, pacing around in the room.
"Ogres and Imps in the Forests of Dearth, marauders and corsairs on the open seas...Tekam and Amlador, newly built and falsely claiming to never ally with the Fiends again, though they build great armies. The old allies gone, Elves and Dwarves unwillingly to venture in the halls of Moon and Stars, and from the Dragons only a story of how they were once at peace with Coneria. Now, just mere fable." The king's voice, strong and powerful, faded to a shadowy whisper, looking out to the crescent moon through the window.
"But my hopes never gave up...until Lukahn informed me that my daughter was gone, captured by one of my most trusted knights of the kingdom. Now, I knew that fate slipped out of the hands of men and into the four of you."
He turned. "The Prophecies have been long forgotten by many, yet the Light Warriors is still attributed to the saviors of this world. And, hopefully, the rescuers of my daughter. Show me the orbs, so I can verify who you are."
Slowly, the four youths, looked at each other, as if a common mind united who they were. Simultaneously, they took their orbs out, each one as black as coal.
The lore-master walked into the room, unannounced and uncaring.
"My apologies, my lord. Forgive me in being late." He turned to the four, as they glanced at him, confused. "Ah, here already. Good."
He looked at each of them, closely, as if reading their minds.
"All of you...have you had...voices inside your head?" Lukahn stroked his long, snowy beard, eyes darting to each of them.
Jakk and Aki nodded furiously, as if trying to shake those constant voices out, but the other mage and the knight inclined their heads into nods. They knew what was happening.
"Who are they, Master Lukahn?"
The lore-master looked at the white mage closely, her red hair hidden under a cloak of white, face as pretty as a blooming rose. A mage-surgeon's cloak of the Coneria Army, no doubt. All of these warriors are connected to Coneria in some way.
"Each of you, Aki, has the spirit of one of the Friend's inside of you. No, you're not possessed. Call it...enchanted. They have always been part of you, but have recently awoken because of their arch-enemies. The voices you hear...they are part of the Prophecies."
The thief stepped forward from their line, face aghast.
"Prophecies, prophecies! That's all I've heard here when I arrived like a convict. I am a common street urchin, not one with the Light...or Dark for that matter." The others in the room looked at him, with no particular expression.
He blurted the question out.
"Who are we?"
Lyr stepped back. "I'll just listen, Lore-master. You're better at explaining this."
Lukahn nodded graciously to the king, and turned back at the four. Looking at the four again, he sighed, and as the king had, started pacing back and forth on the carpet,as soft swishing noises were made by the hem of his cloak.
"Though everyone knows, or have read the 'myth' about the creation of this world and our creators, few want to know about the coming battles between the Friends and the Fiends. Many believe it is simply a tale of fiction, and that the Four, along with the help of Coneria, destroyed the Fiends."
Lukahn paused. The youths looked at him intently. They know this part, in their hearts and souls. They know it, but they do not believe it. Like many of this world, they think it cannot be.
"Such was not the case. The Tari and the Alatari had the same souls, for their Creator made them that way. The only way to defeat the Alatari was to, in essence, destroy the souls of the Friends who made us. Thus, at the Gate of the Temple, they bound themselves into four orbs-" he watched as each looked at their orbs "-similar, but not the same ones you four are wearing."
Bane laughed. "Lore-master, if we were wearing the real orbs, they would be black stones of great size, and our backs would be bent." The black mage quieted to his usual mood. "Besides," he shrugged, "they have never been found."
"You are correct...Bane. The orbs that you have are akin to the four, but they are much larger and heavier in weight. However, your orbs serve as beacons: when all in the world is well, they are lighted, and when the tides turn in favor of the Fiends, they are black. Who are you, you asked, Jakk? You are the warriors that will rescue the world from the domination by the Fiends, the four that were predicted to lead Gaia into the last war against the Fiends with the souls of the Friends inside of you. You are the Tastar, the Light Warriors, or so the Prophecies calls them."
A heavy, lingering silence followed.
"And the only way to restore the order is to destroy the Fiends. All of you know this. It is in your heart and mind."
Klad spoke up. "You said our souls, Master Lukahn, are one with the souls of the Tari. How can this be, if their souls are already inside the orbs themselves?"
"I should make myself clearer. Part of their souls is intertwined with yours, and the other part inside the orbs, with the souls of the Fiends. If the orbs go black, like they are now, it means that they are winning, inside. Already they can take physical form."
"But how did the souls of the Friends go into ours?" Jakk interrupted.
"All of you are youths, coming of age into the world, the time from the transition of childhood to adulthood. The Friends did not randomly choose four youths to help save the world, nor did not specifically choose four youths. Otherwise, if they had done so, why choose a pickpocket?" Lukahn smiled at Jakk, whose curious eyes suddenly turned angry. "I meant no offense, master thief."
He continued.
"The Friends, in their time, had seen their creations- elves, dwarves, dragons, and men- turned wicked under the spell of time. The only innocence and good they saw was that in children. But they could not chose just four children, for they could not perform the duty. But the transition, from childhood to adult, the coming of age for all youths, the Friends saw they could be selected and not corrupted that others would be. And so...they choose four."
Lukahn laughed, and looked at the king.
"Besides, if they choose old, brave, wise ones like King Lyr and me, we would have to grease our rheumatic joints every few leagues." Lyr chuckled appreciatively.
Giving them another mystical smile, Lukahn bowed, low, to the four. "You four warriors know this. All the knowledge of the Prophecies reside in your mind, with the strength and the will of the Friends. Do not feel that you were not meant for this quest. The Friends chose all of you for a reason. You are all special, in some way. The only need is to decide whether you wish to go on this adventure, to find and destroy the Fiends."
King Lyr spoke from the back of the room.
"I believe you are the true warriors too, my friends. Once I saw those orbs that you carry, I knew, mage or no mage, thief or no thief, that you are the ones to fulfill the endeavor. Tonight I will announce my decision to support you, if you indeed decide to journey. But first, you must rescue my daughter."
The four were dumbfounded, thief, mages, and knight. Rescue the King's daughter? Save the world? Madness! Jakk thought, still rolling his orb in the sweaty palm of his right hand. And yet...he stared into the fires of volcanic ash that so frequently rose inside...and yet it may be true...
"Maybe it is true." He blinked. It was the voice again. Bloody hell, he thought, shaking himself minutely so not to attract the attention of others, can a man stop going mad?
Lukahn turned as to leave with rest, but halted and looked at the four.
"There is one other thing. It seems, while reading the Prophecies, that the Friends chose four because they would all have something that connects each other, something that would make them feel closer together. I do not know the connections between a thief of the north, mages of the wilderness, and a young knight of the King's Own, but it seems evident that the Tari had their reasons."
The four exchanged curious looks, walking out of the chamber.
In the throne room, the biggest chamber in the main wing in the Dream Castle, Lyr watched as presiding diplomats and his various lords and nobles walked in, each puffed in colorful, rich clothes while they puffed out like peacocks of many feathers.
He stood at his throne, impressive in a snowy white and red of cloak, with the embroidery of the kingdom's emblem, while the same emblem was on the gilded onto the breastplate armor he wore, and a long, thin sword by his side. Silently, they gathered, awaiting for him to speak.
"Welcome, delegates from other nations, and lords from Coneria's own empire. May honor and duty grace your days."
The men and women, some a hundred strong, bowed, murmuring their respects. And probably their curses, Lyr mentally noted. There were some still looking for blood, as some of the delegates were looking at the king coolly, not caring to show the respect.
Before he could go on, the duels had already begun.
"Does Coneria now make all bow to her feet," an ambassador said, sneering and walking out from the crowd to the middle of the room, footsteps muffled by exquisite red and gold carpet. The shadow casted from his stature were massive, though the room was well lighted, in some areas.
Makery Asuion, the oily tongued man from Amlador. the king thought, looking at the delegate. "And tell us, ambassador Asuion, how does Coneria make others bow, when Amlador herself has amassed an army that is clearly not for defence purposes? I thought our agreement ten years ago settled our war making."
"Have you bothered to step out of your castle, my Lord? While Imps multiply, mighty Coneria shirks from her duties to protect men, and allow creatures of the Fiends to ravage lands from north to south. That is why my kingdom must arm herself, because Coneria will not."
And meanwhile, you probably make half the weapons the Imps use against us, Lyr thought.
A member of the Tekam delegation, his shorter stature marking the only difference between the slippery voices of both, spoke before Lyr could counter.
"And it seems to me, my lord, that Coneria is becoming secretive in her affairs. What hath the King's Own doing so close to the Black Forest? What hath the knights doing in Tranmankand? Tell us, for we are eager to hear...knights from this land do not go so far away from their ruler, for eager are they to betray or protect because the disappearance of the king's very own daughter."
Lyr smiled. Delegate Akhasi Ba'yas had just lead where the King wanted to go.
"A very good question, delegate Ba'yas."
Lyr shrugged nonchalantly, as if telling all the lords and delegates that the Fiends were loosened were not a big deal.
"The Light Warriors have been summoned. The Fiends are loosened," he stated, simply. Chaos broke out in the room.
The gleam of the sword as it was oiled to perfection never failed to amaze the knight, as slowly, he cleaned his sword with precision. It was well over midnight, just a few hours after the Lore-master and the king spoke to the four. He watched the blade's shine. The sword was nothing special, save that it was marked with the symbols of his own House, the Haasions.
Marquis Ryar "Klad," of House Haasions, he thought, shaking his head.
Klad did not like his name, or his title.
He grimaced. He was a lord without a manor, a knight in a foreign kingdom, never born in Coneria, just bred. And that last line of the Prohepcies irked him too, dark may he be...still stuck in his mind, repeating softly, over and over.
But whatever his past was, his fate was sealed, and whether the others would go or not, he would. The Fiends would die, at the sword point of one Light Warrior or four.
Carefully, Klad laid his sword on his bed, in the northwest wing of the Dream Castle, and lifted his armor, slowly burnishing it with a clean rag.
A scream, more out of surprise than fear, erupted from the other side of the corridor.
Klad went into action, grabbing his sword and opening his door to where the shouting was coming from. The white mage's room, Klad thought. From an adjacent room, the thief appeared, alarmed with a rapier. Klad nodded to him, and kicked the half-opened door to Aki's dormitory.
The black mage was already there, standing over the body of a man, wearing dark clothing of Coneria cut, and limply holding a longsword. Aki had a cudgel in her hands, the knight noted surprisingly. The other mage had a long, thin knife, dripping with blood. Slowly, he wipe off it off on the dead man's clothing, glowing yellow eyes looking intently at the other two men.
"It seems like someone has already discovered that the Light Warriors have indeed returned. And that person, or persons, does not want them to," Bane said, sheathing his dagger in the folds of his cloak.
Klad lowered his sword and nodded. "So you have decided to come?"
"Of course. Otherwise, I would not have braved five weeks of sea when the Alatari Kraken is loose about in the seas."
"And you two?"
The white mage and thief gave no answer.