Black Kerthon's Doom (16 page)

"It is good, Janst," said the High King. "I am happy that you have done so well. There must be some festering disagreement that they brought with them. That is good. We shall be sure to break them apart and end their threat one by one. Which of the two do you think is my greater threat?"

"Kaell. He is too ambitious. He tries to succeed whatever the cost. It is the result that counts for him. There is something in his past that he is ashamed of and it drives him onward. I heard Prosty threaten him with it once. Prosty is a scholar of magic and counseling royalty seems beyond his experience. I believe Prosty would rather be doing something else. But I do not know what."

"Find out. I must know. It might be something I could use against him."

"Yes, your Highness." The small man softly drummed his fingers on the floor.

The High King concentrated on peeling his orange. He liked to watch the spray from the peel as his fingers dug into it. He never let a servant peel his fruit; it was something he looked forward to with glee.

"Anything else?"

"Kaell believes he has hired me to assassinate you."

"Has he?" The High King looked sharply at the little man. They sat in an antechamber off the throne room. It had two large sofas covered with pillows. High King Michak sat on one and picked sweet meats out of a bowl. Janst sat on the floor. Michak had almost decided against hiring Janst because of his unpredictable nature. He hoped it wouldn't cost him his life.

"You cut me to the quick, your Highness. How could you think that?" Janst pouted and the High King was reminded of his dead son, Mantan, the one who had treated him as a father, not as a High King as Ransal did.

"Never mind. I am going to call out Kaell. Do not be startled by anything I may say. I shall end this charade soon."

"I am seldom startled, your Highness. And I look forward to an interesting event." He bowed and left. The High King sat and ate for a few minutes and then clapped his hands. Two servants appeared and helped him onto his feet. He walked into the throne room and out onto the terrace. He walked out among the flowers and enjoyed the sunshine. A man in weathered clothes stepped out from behind the rabbit shaped hedge. His complexion was ruddy and his hair unkempt. He set down his spade and wiped the dirt off his hands.

"Follow Janst," said the High King. "Report every move he makes. I cannot afford any mistakes."

"I won't make any," said Chraset. His face had been handsome but the scars were many and the one from the top of his right eye to his mouth pinched his face into a scowl.

"Your reward will be great."

Chraset bowed and disappeared behind the hedge.

"Where do these spies come from?" asked Michak. "What creates them? Are they bred for it?"

He walked a little further and then headed back to the throne room. It was time to meet with Prosty and Kaell to hear the results of the raid on the rebel camp. Besides, he had walked too far and was winded.

When he got inside Ransal waited for him. Ransal was still slender, and at eighteen, he did not show the weight he would carry later in life and did not believe that he would. His father smiled at his vanity and frowned at his ambition.

"Well?" asked the High King. "What is it now?"

"Why do you keep those wizards here? They are trying to steal the throne for themselves. Kill them or banish them. Act like a true High King." Ransal's eyes did not meet his father's.

"What would you know about such things, other than the High King's power which you so obviously crave?" He sat on the throne and looked at his youngest son.

"I would not allow outsiders to share that power."

"What would give you the idea that I share my throne? I alone command the soldiers. I alone raise taxes. I alone decide the fate of the land. What shall I do with you?"

"I am your son! Do not threaten me!" he snapped. He was furious.

"What little teeth you may have cannot harm me, Ransal. I suggest you be patient. When I think you are ready, I shall include you in the governing of Nantitet, and later the entire land. But you are not ready yet."

"When will I be?" He looked directly at his father, his jaw set tight.

"That is up to you. I do not see the self-discipline required in you yet. The first thing you must learn is to hide your feelings. Everyone can tell what you think because your reactions are so clear."

"That's another excuse!" The boy was near tears, suddenly. He could not stop shaking. "You never wanted me for a son! Never ! You only cared about Mantan! Now he's gone and only I am left and you reject me!"

"That is incorrect. I move more slowly with you because I am afraid to lose you, too."

"Fear is failing. You should not be High King. An High King shows no fear."

"Correct. He doesn't show it but he feels it. It is a fool who doesn't feel fear. I control it and use it to my advantage. Mantan, I pushed too fast. He was not ready to enter politics and made dangerous enemies. That is why he died."

"I thought he fell from a horse."

"His saddle straps had been cut and the saddle slipped as the horse jumped. Your brother was assassinated."

"Murdered?"

"And that is what I try to protect you from."

"Who killed him?"

"We never found out. The killer may still be among the court. I cannot risk you." He watched the emotions flicker on his son's face. The boy noticed his father watching with keen interest and quickly masked his expression.

"That is good. Practice that control. When you think you have mastered it, we shall continue this discussion. Remember never let your feelings show in public. It is the only protection an High King has. Trust no one and you will live to see old age.

"Come to the throne room tomorrow morning. We will begin your education then. Watch and listen and you will learn much. You may go."

Ransal bowed and left his mind full of ideas and theories about the proper way to run an empire.

"I wonder if that did any good," Michak said to himself. "He's too much like his mother, full of fire and life. Pity."

He found that he had no time for the bath he craved and settled in for the next bout with the wizards. He cleaned his fingers as Prosty entered. Kaell did not appear.

"Well? Where is your associate?"

"He said he was going to speak with Horeth."

"Has Horeth returned?"

"No. The Calendian army is still several miles south of Rhath. They did not find Gareth. Many of his captains escaped also."

"So, he must have been warned. What is Horeth's reaction to that?"

"Kaell will find out. That is why he is going to Horeth. We also want to find out what they may have found while scouring the hills looking for Gareth."

"What success did the raid produce?" he asked sourly.

"At least ninety percent of the rebel force was destroyed. From the size of the camp there cannot be more than two dozen survivors."

"But the best of the lot remain. Gareth will do some damage yet." At his signal servant brought in trays of food. Prosty glanced at his own growing waistline and sighed.

"What do you think we should do about Gareth now?" asked Michak. "I am not convinced of the infallibility of wizards. Perhaps I should assign one of my military men to assist you. Mulane, for instance."

"I don't think he could help," said Prosty.

"Why not?"

Prosty paused before he answered even though his mind was made up.

"He's been in the dungeon these past months."

"What? On whose command?" The High King's face was relaxed, except for the smoldering eyes. It was the potion. The potion. So much has happened that I don't know about. He tried to remain calm.

"Kaell's."

The High King looked at the wizard and crunched his almonds loudly.

"And you agreed with him?"

"No."

"But you didn't disagree?"

"That is closer to what happened."

"I'm glad you pointed out the difference. Bring Mulane here. Go! I will wait. It is time for a reckoning."

The High King sat back and ate more almonds.

"What won't they do in my name," he wondered. "Who else resides in my dungeon cursing me for their imprisonment? Now I wonder if Parean did indeed kill Daura. I will need more help than Mulane, if he is strong enough to be of help at all."

He went to his chambers and opened an oak chest near his bed. He removed various books and boxes and near the bottom, he found a scabbard with a jeweled handled sword. He tried to fasten the belt around his waist but it wouldn't fit, it was four inches shy of encircling him. He sighed and walked back to the throne room and hung the belt over the arm of the throne. At least the message it conveyed would not be misunderstood. At length the door opened and Prosty led in an underfed and dirty Mulane. His mustache that he had been so vain about was wild and long and he had a good start on a beard whose white hairs shocked the High King. He had no idea that Mulane was getting so old.

"Well, my friend. You are free at last."

"No thanks to you." He looked from side to side but could not see Kaell. He had not expected to be released from his cell.

"What? I am the reason you are free. I did not know until a few minutes ago that you were imprisoned."

The green eyes looked at the High King with distrust.

"How is it these wizards act in your stead? Do they rule or do you?"

"I rule, again. These creatures acted on their own and now I call for a reckoning. Is this not true, Prosty."

"To some extent, your Highness."

"Why are you not worried about your fate?" asked the High King.

"I will survive," said Prosty. "I have great power at my disposal. I will withstand your justice."

"And your friend?" asked Mulane. "The one who imprisoned me?"

"He must fend for himself."

"And I shall!" Kaell strode into the room, his eyes flashing.

"Did you see Horeth?" asked Prosty.

"You take me for a fool? I knew you were planning to betray me to the High King. I waited out of sight until you made your move."

"You are under a delusion," said Prosty. "The High King has forced the information out of me." He smiled at his partner.

"Come," said the High King, catching on to the gist of the conversation. "Make a clean breast of it. You'll feel better and we can realign our goals."

"I shall not go meekly like Prosty. I will not have you destroy what I have worked hard to attain." The pressure inside his skull increased.

"My throne is not for you," said Michak. His voice was hard.

"I will have it despite your words."

The guards at the doorway drew their swords. Michak waved them off as he stood up.

"This is my fight," said Michak.

Michak drew his sword and advanced upon Kaell. Kaell had a knife in his hands but he would not use it. He had other methods. The wizard danced away from the first swipe of the blade. The High King was light on his feet for his size and he came close to spitting the wizard until Kaell realized the true ability of the High King and kept well out of range.

Prosty felt the air tremor and knew that Kaell was devising a spell against the High King. Heat rose from the floor and the High King found his feet burning.

"Ha! Now you shall burn and I shall be High King." Suddenly, Mulane dove at the wizard with his remaining strength and knocked Kaell off balance. The spell wavered and the High King quickly swung his blade that bit deeply into the shoulder of Kaell. The spell stopped in the roar of pain. Kaell staggered towards the wall, blood flowing freely from his wound.

"Mulane, I told you it was my fight," said the High King who winked at his old friend. "Thanks."

"I will kill you!" Kaell shouted. "I will kill you all!" He fell against the base of the wall, holding his shoulder. His brain was exploding in pain with visions. He could not shut them out. He saw the eyes of Kerthon burning into his.

There was sudden motion behind the throne and Janst appeared with his sword. Prosty was the only one who saw him and he warned Michak when Janst came at the back of the High King who whirled and barely blocked the first thrust by Janst. But the little man was too quick and his sword flickered and jabbed and the High King was bleeding in several places. Mulane did not have the strength to help and he watched helplessly. He tried to rise and find a sword but there was no strength left. He called to his guards to aid the High King.

"No," cried Michak. "I will finish it."

Prosty was undecided in whom to help and watched. He did not think he would let the High King die.

Janst backed Michak to the wall and his last thrust was blocked and held. Michak used his weight to an advantage and pushed Janst backward so hard that the little man fell to the floor. Michak brought his sword down but Janst rolled out of the way before the sword chipped the tile where he had been. He stabbed the High King's knee and the big man fell to the floor. Janst relaxed and smiled.

"I am sorry, your Highness. I feel a need for change. You never offered anything as interesting for me. Imagine, killing an High King. Why didn't you think of that?"

"You are insane," he muttered.

"You could have found something tantalizing, I'm sure. But I'm afraid this is the end."

His thrust was caught by the gloved hand of the High King although the glove was not thick and blood soon soiled the blade. Michak struck Janst's legs with the flat part of his sword and knocked the little man off his feet. Janst lost his grip on his sword. Michak flung it away. He jabbed at Janst and split his cheek open. Janst cried in pain and rolled out of range. He was on his feet again and retrieved his sword. Michak used the throne for support and got to his feet, leaning heavily upon the throne his knee unable to support his great weight.

"You are still quite nimble, your Highness," said Janst. "You should have exercised more. Your ability coupled with a lean and energetic body would be unmatched."

"It was once," said Mulane. He looked to the wizard. "Can't you help? He'll punish you for what you have done whether you help him or not."