Chapter 14: The choice
He could feel the
grit of the dust against his teeth as he rode, the hooves of his small horse
stirring up the dry ground around him, each footfall jolting him as he clutched
the reigns, mile after painful mile counted off in his head as he pushed on.
His road-weary
head turned frequently to study the road behind him, a twisted track barely wider
here than the horse itself, long passed the last aspects of civilization the City
of Cort had presented.
“This is horse
country,” he though, shuttering, danger before and behind him, between him and
the southern hills of Land Gate he needed to reach before the riders behind him
reached him or the horsemen of the Dzafars intervened.
The maps he’s studied
at Cort had shown a river, a winding, low water place he could wade before the
ancient enchanter towers that guarded Land Gate, long abandoned, but markers he
desperately needed to find.
Over his shoulder
and along the winding path another, more substantial trail of dust appeared, as
steady in its pursuit as his steed’s flight, as steadfast as shadows he had
hoped to shake at Cort, but had not, but rather had doubled from two to four.
More spies that had
spotted him attempting to book sea passage as far south as Taffar and had kept
him from seeking a water route to Amlor at each harbor since, terrifying fishermen
and merchants, so as to leave only the land route viable, spies that occupied
every port to the north – even though the armies they belonged to had yet to
reach so far.
Word travelled
faster than war, the lone rider thought as he pushed his steed to greater
speed.
He had worn out many
horses since his last attempt at Sea Gate and had to settle for lesser breeds since
the horsemen no longer traded with the people along the coast, and the only horses
available, thin-legged, ill-healthy beasts at best, came from west lands across
the gulf, suffering greatly from the passage.
The horse he had
picked up in Cort was little better than a pony, forcing him to abandon his
armor except for his sword in order for it to carry him, yet struggled with
each footfall as the sturdier breed ridden by his pursuers continued to advance,
if not quickly, then certainly, mile after dusty mile, making it clear they
might reach him before he reached Land Gate – and even then, even if he managed
to get passed the enchanter towers, he could not be sure the Amlorian guards
would welcome him, or believe he had come with an urgent message for their
prince and future king.
His steed stumbled
and stumble again. The rough road held too many pitfalls for him to keep up any
speed. He slowed the pace, thinking he would not escape if he had no horse.
And still pursuit
came, their hooves stirring up the dust behind him like a rising storm, inevitability
focused entirely on stopping him from reaching the prince, from getting the
word he needed to get to the prince from the queen in the south
“I can only trust
you,” the Queen told the rider back in Taffar.
“Would not a messenger
bird make quicker time?” the rider asked.
“I can’t risk it
being intercepted,” the Queen said. “The invaders are holding back only because
they still believe the prince is here. They are uncertain as to whether an
attack with him here would bring reprisals from his father in the north.”
“But he is not
here, my lady,” the rider said. “He went north to seek the help your desire.”
“And he has yet to
send word if that help is coming,” she said. “You need to reach him and tell
him he needs to hurry. I fear the invaders will not hold back much longer and
if the prince does not return, there might not be much for him to return to.”
Her fear was well
founded. Even the rider had seen the columns of smoke rising in the south from
the burning villages still unconquered by the invading army, but soon doomed.
He had heard the tales of refugees fleeing ahead of that storm, tales of clutched
spears and walls of shields, moving inch by inch, the crimson and black armor
of the invaders flowing forwards like a river of blood.
Peaceful Taffar,
with small standing army, would prove little resistance once that army reached
its outskirts.
Inspired by the memory,
the rider once again pushed his steed to greater speed, chancing a sudden fall
as he clutched the reigns and prayed to which ever god ruled over this unholy
land.
How much further,
he wondered. Would the guards admit him when he got there or shoot him down,
mistaking him for one of those many savage tribes constantly seeking to invade
that once-mighty kingdom to the north. Would they believe him when he said he
had a message to bring to their prince and future king?
He dared not think
otherwise and he pushed the steed even harder to hurry.
****************
“You have had time
to decide,” the King told Ely, the chamber dark as only one hearth burned and
fewer torches hung along the walls, like a funeral, Ely thought, mine.
“You have sworn an
oath and must either live by it or cease being heir,” the king said, his voice
less lofty than at their earlier meeting, more sad than angry, as if the king
had thought as hard on this decision as Ely, though refused to put into words what
was in his heart.
“You no longer
think as you once did,” the king went on.
“How should I
think, father?” Ely asked.
“As a king would,
honoring the rituals by which we live.”
“Rituals that have
become meaningless to me over time,” Ely said.
“Do not speak ill
of our laws,” the king said. “They are what have preserved us over time.”
“Well preserved,
but dead at heart,” Ely said. “I have seen living people and would have Amlor
restored to life.”
“We are safe here,”
the king said.
“So is a corpse in
its grave,” Ely said. “We are so isolated here we seem like savages to people
with far fewer noble traditions as we have.”
“I care nothing
about what other people think,” the king said.”
“We should. We
will need the good will of good people as allies against the approaching evil.”
“Allies that would
betray us as they have in the past,” the king growled, his eyes filled with the
fire of bitter memories, of battles fought and lost, relying on the aide of
people who never came.
“These are not
like those,” Ely argued.
“You have seen
much of the world, my son,” the king said. “But you have yet to witness how
quickly friend turns into foe when they feel threatened or perceive you as
weak. You see culture that might well turn into a noose with which to hang you
when the world become dark and dangerous. We stand strong because we stand alone,
as one people. Our fathers and their fathers before them understood this and
made certain we would not depend on others for our survival.”
The king studied
his eldest son, feeling an ever-deepening sadness, “to think this betrayal
comes from my own seed,” he thought.
“They are good
people in Taffar,” Ely argued. “We need to help them.”
“Not at risk of
losing ourselves,” the king responded. “You must choose between your love of
this woman or love of a land to which you would be king.”
“If I refuse to
choose?”
“Then you relinquish
the crown,” the king said, “as well as the sword you came to retrieve.”
Ely cast a quick
glance at the wizard, who stook a few steps to the left of the throne, who
looked as shocked at the king’s words as Ely felt.
The King laughed.
“Did you really
think me as blind as to not see your real intentions?” he asked. “Your words make
it clear you cannot be trusted. The sword will go to your brother and remain in
Amlor for Amlor’s defense.”
“You cannot give
the sword to Ajax!” Ely cried.
“I have not given
it to him, you have,” the king said.
“But he can’t be
trusted with it. He lusts too much for its power.”
“But I should
trust you to take it and carry off to other lands?”
Ely started to
speak, then stopped, catching a warning glance from the wizard.
Another truth
resided unsaid in this chamber this day, a truth Ely knew, as well as the
wizard, and apparently so did the king, a truth about the queen’s father, and a
long-forgotten betrayal, one Ely dared not raise aloud.
“I will give you
to morning to decide,” the king finally said. “Surrender the crown or surrender
the woman.”
The king motioned
to his guards.
“Take my son back
to his chambers, he has much to consider.”
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