It appears I was mistaken. I forgot this was a long one too. ^_^; Sorry about that! But this chapter's awesome, so I'm confident that'll make up for its length. Thanks, Kira, for your help.
Anonymous7: Thank you very much! :D I hope you have a good Christmas too. Thanks for the review!
AARGH I wanted to title this chapter Princess but I already have a chapter with that title! Darn you, Pixal and Lloyd.
Zak
High General Derek was considered to be a collected, even-tempered man. So to see his face so charged with outrage and frustration made Lord Rector Waren's eyebrows arch in surprise.
"So the Blessed girl I heard about from my men earlier..." General Derek said, making a visible effort to compose himself as he rubbed his forehead. He was a good thirty years younger than the Middle's Lord Rector, but gray strands still streaked his brown hair, styled in the undercut customary for High Generals. "She is that slave Kaeli's daughter? Your daughter?"
"Yes," Garmadon answered in the same terse tone.
Derek sighed, lowering his hand. "My King must forgive my forwardness, but there is a reason why things like this cannot be done. Marrying that commoner Misako is one thing, but this… You have been given the responsibility of keeping the First King's bloodline pure. It is no secret among us that when Kings of the past had illegitimate children, they would be put to death to keep the Blessed line unadulterated-"
"I know what my ancestors did!" Garmadon bellowed suddenly, standing and slamming his hands on his desk.
Derek clenched his jaw, but did not flinch or look away. They had all become familiar with this poisoned Garmadon's spontaneous fits of anger.
Garmadon lowered himself back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "I ordered Vara-sak to be killed when she was an infant," he said, eyes hard. "But the Northern Lord Rector rushed Kaeli off to the West before my elite could terminate her child."
"Esaias," Derek snapped. "Bah. That impolitic Northern Priest does not deserve his title. He's always been too lenient with Julien's subjects. That's why Borg has hidden there."
"The people of the North are sleepy, yes," Waren said. "But that has worked to our advantage more times than you can count, General. Don't deny that. And do not disrespect the Northern Lord Rector: simple or not, he is a good man, and he is of higher authority than you. Keep your peace, and don't use his true name so insolently."
And control your temper, Derek, Waren added in his mind. Please. This is devastating news, I understand. But you're going to get yourself in trouble.
Instead of looking contrite, the High General's frown deepened.
"Rumors among Derek's men suggest that this Vara-sak is…physically impaired," Waren said, swirling the liquid of a half-empty coffee cup in one wrinkled hand. "She is disfigured, and cannot walk. Is that correct?"
"She can walk, but at the present she is weak because of both a recent illness and torture," Garmadon confirmed. "I believe that after she was brought to Ninjago by Zane, the Dark Knight, and the other nobles, Kaytake took her into custody. He planned to use the girl as leverage against me. I suspect that the Dark Knight went as far as to sell the girl to Kaytake in exchange for immunity in the South. Vara has clearly been abused, though to what extent she does not admit: she insists that Zane and Kaytake did not wrong her, and that they were, I quote, 'Keeping her safe.' "
Derek snorted.
"She is naive, yes," Garmadon said. As he spoke his eyes seemed to soften some. "But she is my daughter. And now that I've found her… Hosts, I'm glad she lives. She will be a comfort to us all after Lloyd's…" He faltered, mouth closing as he looked up at a painting of his son on the wall to his left, thoughtfully. "She lives," he whispered.
"Pardon?" Waren said. How strange… When he talks about Lloyd and this Vara, the sickness seems to loosen its hold on him.
Derek glanced at Waren with a raised brow. So he'd noticed this, too.
Garmadon at last blinked and looked back at them. "It's something Lloyd said on his deathbed. 'The one who will take my place. She lives.' I thought it was just delirious fever dreams at the time, but…" He tried to chuckle, but it sounded more like a staccato sigh. "Ahh, I'm an old man consumed by grief and poison." He rang a bell on the desk. Moments later the door was pushed open by a Guard. "Fetch the girl."
The King's study remained silent- pensively so- as they waited for the Guard to fetch Vara-sak.
What a strange name, Waren ruminated, not for the first time, as he sipped his black drink. He usually liked his coffee with a spoonful of honey, but today had been one of those days when the bitterness was appreciated.
Correction: one of those years. With Cyrus' betrayal, and the plague, and Garmadon's poisoning at General Malian and Lord Kaytake's hands… There had also been an alarming rise in kidnappings, particularly of young women and girls. Where they were taken, or what was being done with them, none knew. And despite High General Derek's best efforts, he had found very little information on the kidnappers. None of the girls- or their bodies- had yet been recovered.
To top all that off, Cyrus Borg just so happened to have the antidote needed to defeat the plague. But Garmadon refused to let any of his subjects go to the Northern traitor for healing, instead relying on Lord Julien and his underlings to come up with a replica of the antidote. Which, as of yet, had not happened.
And then the Northern Lord had to get sick and die on us… May the First King bring his soul to rest.
"Does Zane know about his father's death yet?" Waren asked.
Garmadon pulled himself from his thoughts and smiled coldly. "No," he said. "I didn't want the knowledge to…cloud his judgement during our meeting."
Derek gave a start. "You met with Zane?"
"I was not going to tell you until Vara got here, but yes." Garmadon glanced at the door as it began to open again. He blinked suddenly, uncrossing his legs and setting his mug on the desk with a slightly shaking hand. "Speaking of Vara…"
Waren turned, raising his eyebrows at the girl coming through the door behind his chair. She was of average height, and walked with a slight limp. Thick waves of red hair reached to the small of her slender back.
It was her face that struck Waren with the most surprise: round, with equally round and beautiful green eyes. Full pink lips that pinched together as she examined Garmadon, then Waren and the General.
Hosts preserve me, she looks like a red-haired Lloyd! Waren realized, nearly dropping his cup in his surprise as she shuffled toward them.
"I was going to ask how you knew this was the right girl, but…" Derek shook his head wryly. He stood, gesturing for her to sit in his chair. "You are Aida?"
The girl nodded. "Um…call me Vara," she said, her halting, somewhat throaty accent surprising Waren further. "Thank you." She sat, smoothing her pale blue dress around her legs.
"Your clothes are wet," Garmadon observed, voice suddenly soft. Waren jerked his attention back to the King. All frigidity and unease gone from his visage, the King regarded Vara with concern. "Were you outside?"
Vara nodded. "With Senai." She looked at her feet and touched her left hand. She was indeed as disfigured as the rumors claimed, missing three of her fingers. "I asked her to show me Lloyd's tree."
Garmadon's mouth tightened. "And Senai's been good to you?" he asked, pouring out a cup of tea from a pot on his desk. Derek took it and gave it to Vara. "Have you eaten?"
Vara took the cup with a grateful nod. "Yes," she said. "Senai is…nice. Thank you."
Derek cleared his throat. "As you are aware, My King," he said, standing between Waren and Vara's chairs, "I have a lot to do, preparing our troops for the invasion of the South in three days. If you have anything of further importance to discuss with me…"
"Ah- Yes," Garmadon said, as if woken from a trance. "We must decide how to present the news of Vara's discovery to the people. I wanted the four of us together to discuss it."
What are your plans for this girl, Garmadon? Waren wondered with a frown. "Why did you bring her here, My King? This is the least safe place for her to be if Zane tries to take her back. It's the first place he'd look."
"I agree," Derek said. "And if- it's a substantial if, but we must consider this from all angles- Zane wins this war, he will likely burn this mansion to the ground, killing everyone in it. If you truly cared for this girl, you would hide her somewhere else, at least until our victory is secured."
Vara looked up from her cup at the High General's words, alarmed.
Garmadon held up his hand for peace. "Our victory is secured, High General," he said. "However, as you said, we must consider all the angles. And the angle I see the most starkly is this: I have no heir to carry on the First King's bloodline. I could try to track down Lou or his son, but if what I have discovered so far is any indication, neither of these men are fit for the crown."
The crown-! Waren gave a start.
"And this girl is?" Derek asked Garmadon skeptically.
Garmadon eyed Vara. "I think yes, if she is trained right."
"But what if I do not want to be Queen?" Vara asked.
"Then I won't force you," Garmadon assured her. "But I strongly advise that you consider it, for the sake of our country."
"Your country," Vara corrected him. "I did not ask for this. My people are not here, they are…" Her words faded as she seemed to consider something. She glanced at the three men in turn before taking a deep breath and speaking again. "That ees something we can discuss later. But right now, what are you going to say to the people about me?"
"What we discussed this morning, I think," Garmadon said. "That you are Wu's granddaughter."
"Nobody who knows anything about your family would believe that, My King," Derek said, ever the pessimist. "Vara's hair is just as distinguishing as her eyes and accent. Lou's wife had dark hair, as did Coleman. To suddenly thrust a Princess such as Vara in the face of the people with that lie would not work. Also, it is customary for the Lord Rectors to recite six generations of the Blessed during the coronation, providing for the people clear evidence that their newest ruler is not a fraud or illegitimate, which automatically excludes Vara."
"You forget that I am a Lord Rector," Waren said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I can bend the rules a bit, if the situation calls for it. Despite what you say, Derek, nobody would read into things much if I inserted Vara as Coleman's youngest sibling in the genealogy."
"Unless Lou or Coleman steps forward to make a bid for the throne themselves himself," Derek argued, throwing up his arms. "What then? Lou would declare that Vara is not really his daughter, and there would be unrest as the people are forced to decide who to believe. Chaos!" The High General clasped his hands behind his back, staring hard at the King. "I recommend that you tell the truth: that she is your long-lost daughter from another…lover." He said the last word with scorn. "Either they accept her, or you find Prince Coleman and eventually make him King."
Waren suppressed a grimace. You've gone too far, General…
Garmadon accepted the High General's advice with a nod, then gestured to the door. "You are dismissed," he said evenly. "Go take care of that business that is clearly so important to you."
Derek seemed to realize he had crossed the line because his eyes widened, and he bowed deeply before hastening from the room.
A long pause followed his departure. Garmadon sat back in his chair and ground his teeth, staring at some book or another on the shelf to his right. Vara lowered her gaze and drew her legs under the chair, her tea cup still full and steaming between two hands on her lap. Waren sipped at his now tepid coffee, mulling over the many variables- the many new angles, good and bad- that Vara presented to them and their dilemma.
A Princess, Waren thought, looking at her downcast eyes and frail body. Her, ruling over all of Ninjago. It was difficult to imagine. A heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.
"No one can deny that you need an heir after the Prince's untimely death, My King," Waren said finally. "Lady Pixal would be a good candidate if she could have children. But she can't, so that rules her out. And from what I've seen so far, Vara needs some work before she can become what we need. But I wouldn't give up on her." Vara looked up as he said this. "And, respectfully, I agree with the High General. In this case, it would be best to be at least partially honest about Vara's ancestry: she is, after a fashion, a child from another lover.
"Your behavior as of late has been…erratic. In our last meeting we discussed the growing dissatisfaction among your people, so you already knew this. But Vara has been here for less than six hours, and already she is the talk of the keep. Everybody here seems to like her- at least, those who have spoken to her can say nothing bad about her."
"What are you getting at, Lord Rector?" Garmadon said tiredly; clearly he was a bit miffed at, if not stung by, Derek's words.
"I'm saying that, with all of the bad news going around, having a Princess- even an illegitimate one- to talk about will be a welcome distraction. Word of her will spread around the town, and then with time, the entirety of Ninjago. But don't just let these rumors spread on their own like a wildfire: use them selectively. Hint that you're considering making her Queen eventually. And if the people react to this adversely, then change the rumors- let them know, subtly, that Prince Wu's grandson is out there somewhere, and if he is found then he will be crowned instead. Then you find him- or he comes forward on his own- and he can be King."
"That is a grossly oversimplified possible answer to our problem," Garmadon sighed, tapping the desk with his fingers. "Politics are more complicated than that. And we both know that there are people out there hoping to make a bid for the throne. They will certainly be spreading their own adverse rumors about Vara and me, to further their own agenda. Your own grandson could become King if I fail to produce a green-eyed heir."
"It's not ideal, I know," Waren said. "But it's a start, at least." He turned to Vara. "What do you think, child?"
"Um…I don't know." Vara looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here. "You said that Pixal cannot be Queen?"
"Because she can't have children," Garmadon confirmed.
"I cannot have children either," Vara said.
Garmadon's fingers froze. "Why is that?"
"I…I don't know." Vara pressed her lips together and averted her gaze. It was clearly a sore subject for her.
And why wouldn't it be? Waren thought. Considering what she was forced to endure on the Dark Island… He knew very little about what happened with slaves in the West, but he had heard enough rumors to now realize that this girl, as young and callow as she appeared, had likely been through more pain than the High Rector had in the entirety of his seventy-one long winters of life. But it takes more than high pain tolerance to make a Queen.
"Stress is a very common instigator of infertility, Vara," Waren said gently. "You are still very young. Perhaps now that you're safe, within a few years things will change."
"Yes," Garmadon said. He cleared his throat. "I don't plan on retiring anytime soon, so this is a subject we can touch on later, once this war is won."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Waren thought for a moment. "How did that unprecedented meeting with Lord Zane go?"
Garmadon shook his head. "I've confirmed that Zane and Borg do have an alliance."
"This is…unfortunate news."
"Yes. Nearly six-hundred Northerners have migrated South, including children. Spies have informed me that some of these share Borg's belief in the Way- they have professed their faith publicly. All of the Northern men- and some women, even- are skilled fighters."
Waren's blood ran cold. Of all the people in Ninjago, only the King and his three Lord Rectors knew of this terrible secret religion. It had been a thorn in the side of the monarchy since the beginning of the fourth age. And now they have the audacity to announce their heretical faith in public? What a disaster…
"You gave Zane the treaty?" Waren asked, voice hardly louder than a murmur as he contemplated this new problem.
"I wish I hadn't, now." Garmadon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because whether Zane raises the white flag or not, I will have to silence everyone. The heathens have spread throughout the South, and you know as well as I that anyone who has come into contact with them must be killed. Especially now that they're in the open." He growled. "So many of them, Lord Rector, despite our best effort. My father was too lax in his searches for these heathens. They multiplied like rabbits during his reign. I feel like our efforts to quell them are as futile as attempting to terminate an ant colony. We squash the few ants that scurry to the surface, while the main body remains safely hidden somewhere beneath our feet. We need to find the ants' nest and flood it with water."
"We have had a hard time rounding them up," Waren agreed patiently. This was not the first time he had listened to this same lament, and he knew it would not be the last.
"Why?" Vara asked suddenly, looking angry. "What have these believers done to hurt you? It is not right to murder thousands of people because a few of them believe different than you!"
Waren slid his eyes to the King, intrigued to see how he would respond to this girl's brash statement.
Garmadon did impressively well. He clenched his fists on the table, but kept his expression and tone even. "For over six hundred years my ancestors have maintained peace between the three realms. Because of us, humanity is untroubled by many of the toils that plagued the third age. I will not be the one to tear down centuries of tradition and harmony, Vara."
"It is not harmony if you are killing people to achieve it!" Vara argued.
"A society divided cannot stand strong," Garmadon countered. "Division like this is the reason the third age came to such a violent end. I'm sorry, Vara, but we cannot allow people who believe that the Retired God still reigns to live among us. You must understand, child. We-" He faltered as Vara's eyes filled with tears.
Vara shook her head at him. "You truly are no better than Overlord," she whispered, standing on shaky legs, setting her still untouched cup on the desk. "Good night."
"Vara…" Garmadon began, but the girl had already turned from him and was shuffling to the door. She pushed it open and went out without looking back.
When she was gone, Waren chuckled. "That one's a handful," he remarked.
"All us green-eyes are," Garmadon said tiredly. Curiously, his face seemed to darken slightly as Waren watched. "This changes nothing, Waren. Within three days, the South must be decimated. And starting this very night, the borders must be watched to ensure anyone who leaves the South is killed before they can infect the Middle as well."
"I agree wholeheartedly, My King," Waren said smoothly, standing. He bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I would like some time alone to think. And to pray."
"Yes. You may go." Garmadon waved him off impatiently, rubbing his forehead as if to soothe a headache. "Come back in an hour. We have more to discuss."
The Lord Rector straightened and moved to leave the room. He paused at the door. "Oh, yes," he said, turning back. "I have not heard from the Southern Lord Rector since his deposition. Do you know where he is?"
"He's doing work for me elsewhere," Garmadon said brusquely. "Don't try to find him."
"I understand, my King." Waren left the room without another word. The two Guards outside bowed respectfully as he passed.
Loiel doing secret work for the King, he thought with no small measure of concern. Hosts… That man's temperament is better suited for work as a mercenary than as a Priest. What is he up to?
To his surprise, Vara was still in the hall, standing with her back to him a few paces off, shoulders bowed and shaking with silent sobs. The two Guards at the door did not approach her, of course: they could not leave their post unless the King was in danger.
"Child," Waren said kindly, moving toward her. "Are you all right?"
Vara gave a start and wiped her eyes. "I am fine," she said bitterly. "Leave me alone."
"I think not," Waren said, resting a hand on her shoulder. Hosts, she's all skin and bone, he observed with concern. No wonder she's so weak. "Where is your servant? Are you lost?"
"I can find my own way back," Vara insisted. She whirled on him, her face now showing no sign that she had been crying as it twisted with rage. "Leave me alone, murderer." Her voice came low and with such intense wrath that Waren blinked. He let go of her shoulder.
"My apologies, Princess," he said with a bow.
Weak in body, but mighty in spirit. Quiet, but unafraid to speak out against what she believes to be wrong.
Slave. Princess.
…Hmm.
"I'll take my leave, Vara," Waren said, standing tall again. "I hope you sleep well."
"You as well," Vara said, striding away as briskly as her handicap would allow.
The crisp breeze kept Peran's drowsiness at bay as he and his two escorts, Saer and Kolin, saddled their horses in the Sheshin Keep's stable.
"High General," Saer said, yawning as he coaxed the bit into his gelding's mouth, "if I may ask, where are we going? Why did we have to change out of our uniforms?"
"Because we are staying off the books," Peran answered Saer, his voice cool and steady despite the whispers of doubt in his heart. "I will explain all that you need to know once we are on the road."
"Yes sir," Kolin said, mounting his horse. The opposite of lanky, dark-haired Saer, Kolin was a large man, well into his forties, with pale blue eyes and a large nose. "When do we ride out?"
"Right now," said a voice at the stable's entrance. Peran turned on his mare and found Iam sauntering in, a bulging saddlebag swinging carelessly over one shoulder. The flickering firelight from a half-dozen lanterns around the stable made his grin seem even more out of place than usual as he strode toward them. Two dark figures entered the stable a moment later.
"Those are your men?" Peran asked, nodding to the pair behind him.
Iam looked over his shoulder with a light chuckle. "Yeah," he said. "General, meet Li and Akins. Siblings. Two of the best in Cyrus' elite. I had a hard time convincing Borg to let them come to the South with us. You'd better take good care of them."
The siblings came out of Iam's shadow, and Peran stiffened.
"High General," Li said, bowing shortly before looking around the massive stable with large brown eyes. "I have no idea where they put our horses…"
"Oi," Akins agreed, arms crossed. "You have any clue, lieutenant?"
Iam pulled a roster from his pocket and handed it to the pair. They headed off together, boots rustling in the straw strewn across the planked floor.
"You're kidding." Peran frowned at Iam.
"Pardon?"
"Li," Peran answered.
"What about her?"
"What about her-" Peran began, flabbergasted. "She's a girl!"
"And?"
"And I cannot allow her to come with us," Peran said. "Iam, did you truly have no one better? Two men, we agreed. I would have thought you'd bring your very best."
"The Lakins twins are my very best," Iam said, smiling as if he found Peran's protests amusing. "For a job like this, at least. Granted, Li is not as strong as most male soldiers. But she has a few tricks up her sleeves. And her brother, Akins…" He chuckled, shaking his head. "My friend, you will be speechless when you see them work. Despite their popular nickname, they are anything but lacking. Trust me on this, General. They're the best for this job."
"…Lakins?" Saer chuckled. Kolin and Peran, however, remained stoic.
"I agree with our General," Kolin said. "I don't know what we're doing yet, but I don't feel comfortable having a woman on board, however competent she may be. And that aside, they're hardly older than children."
"Age has nothing to do with it," Peran said. "My son was nineteen when he became a Guard, and these twins must have at least two, three winters on him." He gripped his reins a little tighter at the thought. "They can come, Iam, but know that I will not be held accountable if something happens to them."
"Understood." Iam nodded. As he spoke, the twins returned with their horses- hers large and pale gray, his smaller and sleeker; black as a raven's beady eyes- and then went to retrieve their equipment. Iam handed Akins the saddlebag, then nodded to Peran and left the stables. The High General watched him go, then turned his attention back to the twins.
By the thirteen moons, Li doesn't even dress like a woman, Peran thought, frowning at her tunic and loose-fitting trousers, tucked into well-worn boots the same ruddy color as her shoulder-length hair.
What have I gotten myself into?
The twins were quickly saddled, and the company of five took to the road, with Kolin's lone lantern lighting their way.
The cobblestone path to the front gate wound through the burial grove. On any other day Peran would think this a peaceful place to ride, but at the moment all he could think of were the hundreds- no, thousands- nobles buried beneath most of them, with nothing but metal plaques on their trunks to tell who they had once been.
Whose idea had it been to start tree graveyards? And how had the custom stuck around with no sign of ceasing for nearly seven hundred years? During the summer it worked well enough, but if a person died in winter, they would have to be kept frozen until they could be buried in spring's deadthaw.
Like Makeri, Peran thought, then sighed softly. These graves were a stark reminder of things he had been trying desperately for weeks to put out of his mind.
But even without the ancient graveyard's solemn reminder, it was difficult to bar the pain of having watched his only family- his only true friend- die such a painful death, blood oozing from his nose, his ears, his pores… Even his tears had run red, near the end.
But Peran could not even go into the room to say goodbye: the sickness was far too contagious. Instead he'd been forced to watch from another room, his fist pressed to the glass, helpless to do anything but watch from a world away as the disease razed his son's body until nothing was left but a cold corpse that was carefully, reverently placed in a bag, and taken to one of the already crowded deadthaw storehouses.
The scathing memory flashed through Peran's mind, but was viciously suppressed a heartbeat later. The High General steeled his jaw. He had loved Makeri with all his heart, but there was no time for these thoughts. He had to focus on the task at hand: saving those who were still alive.
Peran closed his eyes to pray a few words to the First King. Peace, both for himself and for Makeri's departed spirit. Strength to carry out what he suspected he would be forced to do if he was to save Varasach.
It seemed like they'd been traveling for hours by the time they reached the front gate to the Sheshin keep, though Peran knew it took only a few minutes. As they left the trees and passed through the open courtyard, the half-dozen sentinels at the gate noticed them. They stood a little straighter, then bowed when they recognized General Peran. They looked a bit confused, likely because none of Peran's company were in uniform. Regardless, they allowed the General and his company to pass through the gate without any trouble.
After the gates clanged shut behind them, Peran heard Saer give a small sigh of relief. And as they turned a corner, Kolin put out his lantern, leaving naught but the light of Ara's slowly waxing moon to guide their path.
"That was overtly clandestine," Kolin muttered. "Those guards are going to tell Zane that we left. We looked far too suspicious."
"Do you take me for a fool, Kolin?" Peran asked. "I know what those men will do." More than that, Peran was counting on it. He wanted Zane to know that he had left, if for no other reason than because it made a powerful statement. Zane had become arrogant, believing that he could treat his subjects however he wanted, and that they would not- could not- retaliate. Peran hoped that his temporary leave would shake Zane out of his current madness.
And if he sends men after me, he thought with a wry smile, well, perhaps I could use the backup.
"You all recall the girl, Varasach?" Peran asked his companions at last.
There was a moment of hesitation.
"I have heard of her," Li said softly.
"I don't know much, beyond that she was kidnapped by the King," Akins added.
"I've spoken to her a few times," Saer said. "I take a morning patrol in the keep. I feel terrible: I was there when Garmadon took her."
"Even I could not stop the King," Peran said. "If anyone is to be at fault for Varasach's fate, it is Lord Zane. He has prohibited any of us from searching for her. And now we have the additional mess of Garmadon's demand to raise the white flag."
"What-" Akins began, mouth agape. "I heard that Lord Zane gave Garmadon his peace treaty! He said nothing about surrender. If Zane agrees to that…"
"Then you and all of Cyrus' men would likely be killed as you tried to fight or flee over the border," Peran said. "Not to mention Lady Driniah, who is only months away from giving birth, would be sent to the Dark Island with our drastically incompetent Lord Zane for the remainder of her life. Or, at least until Garmadon is dead, and she could come back discreetly. Either way, her life would be ruined."
And I am so tired of Zane ruining people's lives, he thought in the heavy silence that followed.
"So what is our mission?" Kolin asked solemnly.
A good question, Peran thought. Iam's goal and mine, while similar, are not entirely synonymous.
"Our mission, first and foremost, is to rescue Vara. But if one of you can get close enough to the King… It would be a marvelous bonus if he were taken from the picture, too."
"A suicide mission," Kolin said.
"Pardon?"
"This is a suicide mission, High General. Surely you don't expect all of us to come back from this alive."
"I don't dare hope for a one-hundred percent successful operation," Peran said. "But I would not bring you all out here if there were no hope. I fully intend to succeed, Kolin."
"But if we don't?" Saer asked.
"Then I am prepared to give my life for this cause," Peran said. "Vara must be extracted."
"If the General does not mind my asking… Why does this mean so much to you? We all loved Varasach, but she is only one girl. Wouldn't you be making better use of your time helping our Lord Zane prepare for war?"
"Not anymore," Peran said, enunciating each syllable quietly and coldly, hailing the end of this conversation. Saer fell silent. The only noise came from Li and Akins, who began to murmur amongst themselves at the back of the line, and from the snow as it crunched under the hooves of their horses.
Not anymore.
Varasach made it halfway to her room before Senai finally found her.
"My lady!" Senai exclaimed, rushing to help her. "Are you all right?"
Varasach brushed the servant off. "I am fine," she said between clenched teeth, walking faster. "Please leave me alone."
"Begging your pardon my lady, but I can't," Senai said. "The King told me to stay with you. You should have stayed by the King's study and waited for me! I left for just a minute, and when I came back, the Guards tell me you've gone! Don't do that again, please."
Varasach suddenly felt dizzy, and she gripped the wall and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Her legs shook uncontrollably: she had not done this much walking unaided since before her injuries. The light of the ornate lanterns all along the hallway left spots in her vision.
"My lady," Senai said, touching Varasach's arm. "Please, let me help you back to your room."
I don't want your help! Varasach wanted to shout. I want you to leave me alone. I don't want to be Garmadon's Princess. I don't want to have a servant. I don't want to live here. I…
Varasach's head eventually stopped spinning, and she released the wall. "All right," she said, eyes dark as a plan began to form in her mind. "Help me to my room."
"Thank you." Senai wrapped an arm around Varasach's midsection and supported her as they went down the long hall.
"I know it's not my place to ask," Senai said after a few minutes of silence, "but how did the meeting go?"
"It went fine," Varasach snapped, knowing full well that her tone said otherwise.
Senai remained silent after that. After another minute they at last they reached Varasach's room, and Senai pushed the door open.
"Senai," Varasach said as they entered the dark room. "Please go down to the kitchen. See if you can have one of the cooks warm up some broth."
"Are you ill, my lady?" Senai asked, lighting a lamp.
"I think I may be," Varasach said, leaning on a table and lifting a hand to her forehead.
…Help him, Vara. The words came to her more as a memory than anything else, and she clenched her jaw, feeling sick to her stomach. This erratic nausea seemed to be bothering her more and more often as of late. Help him.
Senai suddenly looked very concerned. She touched Varasach's head tentatively. "I'll bring a doctor, too," she said.
"No!" Varasach exclaimed, much more loudly than she'd intended, and Senai recoiled. "Please… I think that white drink at dinner upset my stomach. Just get the broth. And some tea, too." She waved away Senai's hand. "I can make it to the bed myself. Just go."
Senai obeyed reluctantly, footsteps fading down the carpeted hall.
When Varasach was certain Senai was gone, she straightened from the table, grabbing the lamp. She rushed to her large closet and went in, selecting her warmest cloak- the one Garmadon had purchased for her while they had stayed at the Blue Cat- and threw it over her shoulders. She sat on a stool and pulled off her slippers, exchanging them for warm woolen socks. She hadn't much practice lacing up her own boots- Cole, Kyle, or Josi had usually done that for her- but this time she managed to knot them well enough on her own.
Independence, she thought. I suppose I shall know a great deal about that before the week is up.
She had been a passive player in her own story for far too long. She couldn't just wait for someone to rescue her: she had to take control of her own life.
Finally, Varasach stood and snatched up a pair of gloves- one specially tailored for her disfigured hand- and the lantern, rushing from the room with only slightly sore and unsteady legs. She went left, hardly sparing a glance for the plethora of ornate tapestries, paintings, and sculptures on her way to the stairs.
The mansion was uncannily quiet as she made her way down the staircase. Even gripping the railing tight to keep her balance, she nearly tumbled down the wooden flight once or twice.
"My lady," said a Guard as she reached the bottom of the stairs, slightly startled by her urgent descent. He glanced up the steps and, seeing nothing, looked back to her, frowning slightly at the lantern. "Is something wrong?"
Varasach froze. Stupid, she scolded herself. She should have already come up with an excuse for the inevitable questions the Guards would ask on her way out.
Suddenly, staring at this tall, uniformed Guard, Varasach found herself back on the Dark Island under the eye of a stone warrior. But after an eye blink the image was gone, and she took a deep breath.
Any woman who hoped to survive on the Dark Island had to learn a thing or two about how to avoid men. And when avoiding their eye wasn't possible, finding a way to outfox them once they had their eyes on their prey was key. Especially when there were chores to be done: no matter the circumstance, being delayed in one's chores was the quickest way to earn a beating.
"My lady? Is everything all right?"
Looking at her feet, Varasach mumbled a string of nonsense in the Dark Tongue.
The Guard frowned. "I'm…sorry?"
Varasach looked up at him, doing her best to look as confused as possible. "I…heard ay noise up theer," she said, exaggerating her accent. "Eet was nuthing. Um…I am outside. Een the garden. Please."
"You are… Oh!" The Guard released his grip on the sword. "You want to go to the garden?"
"A'ah."
"Um…yes? Okay." The Guard pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room. "Through there. Keep going straight, and you'll see the doors. The Guards there will let you out."
"Thanks you," Varasach said, bowing. She walked as quickly as she could without seeming too suspicious, passing through that door and into the next room. She'd come this way before with Senai- Lloyd's tree was in the garden- so she knew the way to go. Still, she knew she had to play her cards right if she wanted to get out. So when she saw Guards, she acted lost. And when a servant or slave passed, she would hold her head high and act like she knew exactly where she was going, and had an important reason to be there.
She had to get to the gardens, because security was more lax there than in the front entrance of the mansion. Once outside, she had to find the stables and somehow convince the stablehand to saddle her horse and allow her to leave. After that, the front gate.
She knew she would likely be turned back there, and Garmadon would learn of her attempted escape and- at the very least- scold her sternly. But she had to try: if she succeeded, she could return to Sheshin and warn Zane of Garmadon's plan to massacre the South.
And if she failed, at least she would have made a bold statement to Garmadon and his men.
She supposed then that she might have benefited from waiting another day and planning a better escape. But she didn't have time: the South needed to be warned of Garmadon's intentions as quickly as possible.
Two Guards stood at the double-doors leading to the garden. They looked confused as Varasach meandered toward them, pretending to look lost and timid.
"My lady," one said, smiling warmly. "Back already? You just went out a while ago."
"Um…yes," she said. "I was called by the King before I was done. I would like to finish now."
"Finish…?" The other Guard prompted, raising a dark eyebrow. But he was smiling too: for some reason that Varasach could not discern, these people really did like her, as the Lord Rector had said. They saw her as a shy woman with a cute face and friendly smile. None of them paused to think that she might have more on her agenda than wandering around and gaping at the keep's decorations and architecture.
"Just…walking," Varasach said, offering them that shy smile that she found so often made people let their guard down when they saw it. "I like to walk."
"With a lamp?" the Guard said, unintentionally condescending. "My lady, it will not be dark for another hour at least. Do you plan on staying out that long?"
Varasach swore internally. She needed a light once it got dark. But, looking at the engraved glass piece held in her hands by a delicate metal handle, she supposed it was a little too precarious to carry while riding a horse. There was bound to be some real lanterns in the stable.
"Oh…" she said. "I guess not. Um… Here." She handed the lamp to the man, who took it with a light chuckle, opening the door.
"It's kind of cold tonight, my lady," he said. "Don't stay out too long."
"Mmm," Varasach replied, and went out.
The wind cut through her clothes as the door shut, and she slipped on her gloves, shivering. She wished that she'd had time to change out of her damp dress. But even now she was running out of time: Senai was surely on her way back to Varasach's room by now with the cups of broth and tea. Soon she would recruit a Guard to help look for her mistress. She would then be told that Varasach had gone out to the garden, and it would all go downhill from there.
Varasach followed her nose toward the faint but distinctive smell of the stables, eyes flitting around for any sign of Guard or servant. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a raven flying far overhead, trailing behind a much smaller black bird.
Aside from the wind, the rattling tree branches, and the crunching of snow underfoot, the world remained silent. Too silent. Varasach scurried past the thick pines, leafless trees, and hedges with as much speed as she could manage: it was nothing short of a miracle that she had lasted this long on her feet, considering that only yesterday morning she'd been mostly confined to a wheelchair.
Help him, Vara. The words from God came to her again.
"No!" Varasach hissed. "He does not deserve my help. Kaeli…" She swallowed. My mother would not want me to help him, after what he did to her. Especially not after what he is planning to do to the South.
That's what she told herself. All the same, guilt about not listening to God burned through her gut as though she were being consumed by the plague. She brushed her hair from her eyes and looked straight ahead, at the now looming entrance to the stable.
The stable was a beautiful place. Long, and consisting of two stories, it housed over a hundred horses on the ground floor. The upper area, Varasach saw as she looked up, was stacked with row upon row of hay bales that could be easily tossed down during feeding time.
"Can I help you?" a voice asked to Varasach's left, and she whirled with a start.
The speaker, a young man about her age with dark eyes and a crooked smile, stood next to a horse, brushing its coat. "Didn't mean to startle you," he said, tufts of gray horse hair falling around his boots with each stroke. "It's getting kinda late… Did you need something?"
"Um…" Varasach tried to evaluate the man. Should she approach him directly with her request? In the precious seconds that she had to consider it, there didn't seem to be any other choice. "I…would like my horse," she said, doing her best impersonation of a Ninjagian accent.
The man finally turned his full attention to her, and his eyes widened slightly. "You're the new…um…" he said, giving her eyes a good long look in the torchlight.
"Princess," Varasach said, hating the title even more now that she'd said it out loud. "I want my horse. Adiva. I rode her into this keep earlier today."
"Ah…Adiva." The man held up a finger. "Right away, my lady." He gave the gray horse's rump a quick pat and hurried down the corridor, returning moments later with Adiva. The mare held her head high and proud, black tail flicking every few steps as they came toward Varasach.
"This was the Prince's horse," the stablehand said, an unmistakable sadness in his voice as he tied Adiva's lead to a ring on the wall and rubbed her shoulder.
"Was it?" Some small part of Varasach's heart warmed as she came forward and touched the horse's neck. Varasach had not encountered many horses in her lifetime- only the ones she'd rode while working for Cyrus- but she thought this must be the prettiest horse in the world, with her rich golden coat, broken only by a black stripe running from her withers to her hindquarters, and some faded brown coloring her lower legs.
"Yeah," the man said, and smiled as Adiva lowered her head to gaze at Varasach through one large, chocolate-colored eye. "Before…well, before the incident with the Dark Knight a couple months ago, Prince Lloyd would come out daily to be with Adiva. On sunny days, they'd ride- bareback, usually. And when it rained…" He ran his fingers through the horse's black mane. "They'd sit on the floor of her stall together and read books. Well…he'd read them. But you get my meaning."
Varasach laughed softly, breath rising in steamy puffs. "It sounds like they were good friends."
"Oh, the very best. He had his father's knack for caring for horses." The man shook himself out of his reverie and sighed. "I'll get your tack," he said, pushing open a door on the opposite side of the hall, where the gray horse stood, one hind leg raised partially off the hay-covered ground as it snoozed.
"Adiva's been a little…depressed since Lloyd's departure," the stablehand said when he returned, a saddle hefted in his arms. He threw it over Adiva's back. "I'm glad someone's riding her again. It looks like she's already perking back up after your ride this morning. She must like you." He sighed, looking into Adiva's melancholy eyes. "Do you know how to fasten the girth?"
Varasach shook her head.
The man gave her an amused look. "Here. Stand like this. Reach under and grab the girth. Watch her legs. Yes, good. Slide that strap through…" He lifted a large flap on the side of the saddle. "…that loop."
Varasach struggled to do as she was told: her bad hand did not have a good grip, and the stablehand eventually had to help her get the buckle just so. He also had to tighten the girth for her.
"Please tell me if I get too personal, my lady," the stablehand said. "But how do you like it here, in the King's Keep?"
"I like it here," Varasach said. "In the stable."
The man laughed. "Ah, yes," he said. "I agree. Now, the bridle. I'm Zak, by the way."
Varasach's eyes flitted to her feet, and she tried in vain to hide a smile. "Vara," she said, and took the tangled mess of leather straps and metal from him. It was hard to imagine this complicated thing could ever fit properly on a horse's head. The way the reins dangled reminded her of a-
Snap!
The memory smacked into Varasach's mind, followed by a flash of red that filled her vision. She dropped the bridle with a gasp, reeling backwards. The pieces hit the ground with a metallic chink, and Adiva's ears swiveled toward her mistress.
Varasach knew it wasn't a whip: it was a bridle. The same one she'd used to ride Adiva that same morning. But still, the terror remained in her mind as she stared at it, hands pulled close to her breast.
"My lady," Zak said, scooping up the bridle, looking worried. "Are you all right?"
Varasach composed herself quickly, shaking her head. "I-I'm fine," she said. "Please, show me how to put that on Adiva."
"Begging your pardon, mistress, but perhaps you should go rest for the night. You look tired-"
"No!" Varasach exclaimed. She continued more calmly, though her insides were twisted up with anxiety. She'd dawdled too long talking to this man. Half the keep was probably looking for her by now. "Please. I have to go."
Zak's countenance darkened. Varasach scolded herself for giving her intentions away like that. Hosts, though, her nerves were so wound up she couldn't think straight anymore.
"Please, Zak," she said. "Please undurstand. I must go. Eet-"
"You are from the Dark Island?" Zak interrupted, and Varasach realized she'd let her accent slip. "You know Borg?"
Varasach betrayed herself by nodding.
Zak hastily put the bit in the horse's mouth and buckled the straps of the bridle. "No time for questions, then," he said. "I'd wondered about your sudden appearance with Garmadon this afternoon, but...well, this makes more sense now. Quickly, get on. Does anyone know you're trying to escape yet?"
"Probably," Varasach said, too flustered to say more as Zak helped her get onto Adiva's back.
"Where are you trying to go?"
"The South," Varasach answered. "I learned some things that Zane must know."
"Do you know the way there?"
"Um…"
Zak stared in disbelief.
"You're handicapped," he said. "You have no money, no food, you don't even know how to care for your horse, and to top all that off, you don't know where you're going?"
Varasach's face flushed.
"Unbelievable…" Zak ran a hand through his blond hair, looking around as if searching for the answer to her dilemmas in the walls. "All right. Wait here." He ran back into the tack room and came out with another saddle. He rushed into a nearby stall, leaving the door open, and only heartbeats later came rushing out with a saddled, shaggy, thick-boned horse at his side. Its brown head was obligingly lowered so Zak could get the bridle over its face. Without stopping, he gripped the horse's mane and vaulted onto its back, motioning with a jerk of his head for Varasach to follow him deeper into the stable.
"Come on," he said, snatching a lantern off the wall. "I know a less guarded way off the grounds." He trotted forward, and Varasach followed him.
"What are you doing?" Varasach asked, matching Zak's pace.
"I'm helping you," Zak said.
"But the King will be mad!"
"I think he'll be more upset about your disappearance than mine," Zak said. "And if you don't want him to catch you, you'd better accept my help."
"Gladly," Varasach said. "But…why would you want to help me?"
"Because I'm with Borg, too," Zak said, as if that explained everything. "Now please, be quiet. We don't want to attract the attention of Garmadon's patrols. He snuffed out the lantern and hung it off his saddle, riding through the open back exit: this barn did have doors, but judging by the amount of snow piled around them, they were rarely shut.
"Faster," Zak said, his horse's hooves clomping on the firmly packed path. "I hear a commotion behind us."
Varasach heard it too, now that he mentioned it. Faint shouts. Everyone was probably looking for her now, and her bones trembled at the thought of what would be done if she was caught.
This isn't the Dark Island, she told herself. They won't punish you like Overlord did.
But did she know that, truly?
Anxiety overcame reason, and she pushed Adiva to a canter, wanting to get as far away from this cursed keep as she could.
Yay Vara! Yay Peran! You go, guys! Git 'er done!
May I present to you FIVE new characters: Waren, Derek, Li, Akins, and Zak! I know you don't know a lot about them yet, but what do you think of them so far? I'm super excited to show you their upcoming parts in the story.
Heh. In other news, I've developed that dangerous habit of contemplating which Hogwarts houses each of my characters would be sorted into. I am undecided. But I'm thinking Cole, Vara, and Pixal would be Slytherin, and Sage would be Ravenclaw. Besai is without a shadow of a doubt Gryffindor. Jay probably is, too. But Kai's giving me trouble. Slytherin's definitely not his personality, but he has great qualities in equal measure from all the other houses. I'm leaning toward Ravenclaw, but... Hmm. Hufflepuff? What do you all think? And what house is ZANE in? X'D
Seriously, guys. Please let me know what you think. I'm losing my head trying to sort these guys by myself.
Oookay. That's enough rambling for one day. ^_^; Heh. Well, reviews are, of course, encouraged and appreciated! Have a great weekend, all!