Conflict (21 page)

His father, King Solin, sat waiting for him on the baroque throne. Beside him sat his mother, Queen Eleuna. At the foot of the throne were the King’s two closest counselors. Beside his mother was Urien, the small, frail political counselor, with his emblematic snow-white mane. Beside his father was Drocus, First General of the Army of Rogdon, unmistakable in his dress armor of gold and silver, fingering his thick black beard.

Both faces were grim, even severe. It was not a good sign.

He reached them, Lomar following behind him, and bowed before the throne.

“Father, Mother, Royal Counselors,” he said, greeting each of them with a glance.

“What the hell happened? Where have you been all this time?” his father roared in welcome.

“Solin!” his wife, the Queen, chided him.

“I’m sorry about the delay and how little news I’ve been able to send home, Father.”

“You left almost two months ago, and it’s only days since we found out you were still alive!” his father reprimanded him sternly.

“I had no way of reporting, Father…A few days ago we were near Rienbraun, and we went into town to send you a message. We had to get to the Temple of Tirsar as soon as possible. Haradin’s life depended on it.”

“The important thing is to know you’re alive, my son,” his mother said with a smile.

“Did you find Haradin alive?” Urien, the Royal Counselor asked.

“Yes, we did. We found him at last and managed to rescue him. He’s now at the Temple of Tirsar with the Healers, and although there are no guarantees, he may recover.”

“What happened to him? When will he be able to fight beside our army?” First General Drocus wanted to know.

“We don’t know. The Healer Sisters couldn’t say how long it might take him to get well. But it doesn’t look as if it’s going to be a quick recovery.”

“Thunder and Lightning!” exclaimed the General. “I need him right away! War is taking giant steps towards us. The situation is critical!”

“What’s happening? Have we been attacked? Are we at war already?” Gerart asked, dreading the answer.

“No, not yet. But everything suggests it’s only a matter of hours, perhaps a couple of days,” Counselor Urien explained.

“Before we talk about the conflict,” the King asked, “I want an explanation of what happened with Haradin’s rescue. It was supposed to be a pretty simple mission, or at least so I was told. What the hell happened, Gerart? What have you done?”

Quietly, so as not to let himself get carried away by his emotions or the anger in his father’s voice, Gerart gave an account of everything that had happened during that fateful rescue mission, from the day they had left the Temple of Tirsar to their return there carrying the helpless Haradin.

At the end of the chilling story a gloomy silence fell over the Throne Hall.

Gerart was aware that he was on the point of receiving the full brunt of his father’s rage, and prepared himself for the blast.

“You idiot! What were you thinking?” Solin roared, completely beside himself.

The Queen tried to calm him in vain. “Solin…I beg you… please…”

“You went into deep Usik territory with a column of Lancers? Have you completely lost your mind? How could you do something as stupid as that? This was a suicide mission, and you condemned them all to death!”

Gerart swallowed hard.

“I’m truly sorry that’s how you see it, Father…”

“And worse still, you condemned yourself to almost certain death. Haven’t you learnt anything in all these years? Don’t you understand the importance of your decisions? They’re decisions which affect the future of this nation, not only your own actions and life. Nation and honor, how many times have I told you this, Gerart?”

The Prince looked down.

“I did what I thought was best for the kingdom, for my country, honorably. You may not approve, but I betrayed neither my principles nor your teachings. We needed Haradin at our side to defend us from the Nocean invasion. I did it for the Kingdom.”

“What did you do for the Kingdom? Send a column of Lancers on a suicide mission? Doom those men? Waste their lives and the future of this kingdom in a useless display of bravado?”

“Solin, please… calm down…” Queen Eleuna pleaded once again.

“I thought your Majesty was aware of the Prince’s mission,” said Counselor Urien.

“My son,” the King went on, pointing an accusing finger at Gerart, “kept the dangers of the mission hidden from me, conveniently forgetting to mention he was going into Usik territory. Before he left the Temple of Tirsar, he informed me that he was heading to the eastern steppes. He knew perfectly well that I wouldn’t have approved of any mission like that in Usik territory.”

“It was necessary to rescue Haradin.” Gerart defended himself with aplomb. “And that’s what I did, for my country, regardless of the danger.”

“The risk, you dimwit!” his father exploded. “That’s always the most important factor to consider!”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Father. I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide on.”

“And what punishment will return those brave Lancers to life? Those devoted Sisters of the Order of Tirsar, my personal friend Sergeant Major Mortuc? Tell me, my young Prince, what punishment exactly?”

Gerart remained silent. Mention of the Sergeant had disarmed him completely. A mixture of pain and rage came up from his stomach, and he felt like crying. His eyes moistened. But he could not allow his father to see him shed tears, much less in public, in front of the Royal Counselors. He bit his lower lip hard and held back his tears, looking ahead of him, his chin held high.

He would not let him see him cry.

Not ever.

The Queen noticed the difficult moment her son was going through and came to his help.

“What’s done is done, and it can’t be changed. Gerart acted from his heart, as he always does, certainly not with his head as his father would have wished, as even I would have wished. But his reasons were noble, and that’s what counts. Arguing about it now won’t do us any good.”

Gerart felt a slight relief, as if a gentle sea breeze had touched his forehead. But the storm was not over yet.

“You’ve disappointed me deeply, Gerart. But your mother is right, what’s done is done. You’ll have to live with the deaths of the Lancers, and of Mortuc and the Protectress Sisters, on your conscience. Perhaps you’ll learn something from it, although I doubt it.”

“Their deaths will always be with me, Father, I know I’m responsible for them…”

“Now listen carefully, Gerart. You won’t do anything else without my leave, and you’ll tell me every detail of anything you’re planning. If I ever find you involved in any other tomfoolery, I’ll put you in prison like a common thief. I won’t allow any member of the Royal Family to dishonor me. You have my word on that, the word of King Solin.”

“I understand, Father…”

“I hope you do, because the disapproval I feel towards you now will take quite a long time to fade, if indeed it ever does.”

Gerart lowered his head before his father’s fury, and a tense silence filled the hall.

“Lancer, who are you?” the Queen said, addressing Lomar in an attempt to change the subject.

“Royal Lancer Lomar, at your service, your Majesty,” he said with a deep bow.

“Did you accompany my son on the expedition to Usik territory?” asked Queen Eleuna with interest.

“Yes, your Majesty, I had the honor to serve with your son, and if I may say so, the Prince’s courage and heroism were commendable.”

“I appreciate your heartfelt words,” she replied, looking at her royal husband out of the corner of her eye.

“If you enjoyed serving with my son so much, I’ll allow you to continue doing so in the future. As of today you’ll be in his service permanently,” the King ordered.

“As you wish, your Majesty,” Lomar said.

“Perhaps we should concentrate on the situation at hand and find alternatives,” Counselor Urien suggested, “now that we know what happened to Haradin and what his present state is.”

“True, the situation is critical. We must act swiftly,” said Drocus.

At that moment Mirkos the Erudite entered the Throne Hall. The Mage, aged but powerful, walked toward the group with weary step.

Gerart looked at him and smiled. He had a deep fondness for the good Mage, with his unmistakable white beard, long and thick, his bushy snow-white brows and his striking, almost albino mane. He was wearing a long, heavy blue robe. To judge by his shaggy look of disarray, he had just been woken up so that he could attend this late meeting.

“Good evening to all,” he greeted them, leaning on his staff.

They all returned the greeting with courteous bows.

“To what do I owe the honor of being summoned at such an unholy hour? Nothing good, I’d wager…”

“You’d wager correctly, Mirkos,” the King said grimly. “Forgive the hour, my friend, but the situation can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s what I guessed. So what is it? What’s happened?”

“Gerart, tell him about it,” said his father.

Gerart told the old Mage the whole story for the second time, explaining in detail what had happened to Haradin.

“Ah, Haradin and his Ilenians…how many times have I told him to stop searching for them? Nothing good can ever come from the Lost Civilization. We shouldn’t disturb those who have rested in peace since before the Age of Men began. They come from a vanished age, when the Ilenians ruled in Tremia. Thus it has always been, and thus we must let them be. My studies indicate that although their origin might go back to the dawn of time, the Ilenians disappeared mysteriously from the face of this earth more than three thousand years ago, very possibly because of, or as a consequence of, their powerful magic. Or at least that’s what this old scholar believes. But these youngsters don’t heed their elders, as is only natural, and then these things happen. The Ilenians had very powerful magic at their disposal, superior to ours. There’s nothing comparable now to the power they supposedly wielded, or so we experts in the matter think. Haradin couldn’t resist the temptation to find an Object of Power from the Lost Civilization. It was too great a temptation… If only he’d listened to me… I told him again and again to let the Ilenians rest in peace. Their arcane magic can only bring us trouble, as indeed has turned out to be the case. Nobody listens to their elders, but as soon as he recovers he’ll have to hear what I have to say, he will indeed!”

“That is, if he recovers,” Drocus put in.

“He will, if he’s in the hands of the Healer Sisters he’ll recover, I haven’t the slightest doubt. But the magic used to turn him into carbon was extremely powerful, Ilenian Magic, and reversing the process might take a lot more time and effort.”

“Time that we don’t have,” said Counselor Urien, sounding deeply worried. “Rogdon’s enemies are on the move, on the brink of attacking.”

“What’s the present situation?” the Mage asked.

The King got up and came to stand beside his two counselors. Gerart and Mirkos were in front of them, Lomar a couple of paces behind listening in silence.

“The situation is very grave,” the King began. “On one hand the Noceans are amassing an army on the southern border, very near Silanda, our fortified border city. On the other hand, the Norghanians have mobilized three of their armies, and are now camped in front of the Fortress of the Half Moon, towards the northeast, at the great mountain pass. Everything points to the fact that they’re ready to attack. The Norghanians blame us for the murder of the Great Duke Orten, King Thoran’s brother, and they’re after revenge. On the other hand, the Noceans tried to kill Prince Gerart, and they’ve mobilized in response to our closing of the borders. With the Norghanians pressing in the northeast, I’ve no doubt that the treacherous, greedy Noceans will try to take Silanda.”

When Gerart heard the news threatening the Kingdom he felt true anxiety. He knew of the difficulties with the Noceans, but the danger of a war with the Norghanians was something totally new to him. They could not stand against two simultaneous invasions!

“We find ourselves in a predicament,” Urien said. “If we don’t manage to dissuade the Norghanians and they attack, the Noceans will follow suit and unless I’m much mistaken, we won’t be able to fight on both fronts at the same time. We don’t have enough men.”

“My thoughts precisely,” said Drocus.

“Two very powerful nations on the point of invading us…” Mirkos mused aloud.

“It’s time to act, gentlemen,” the King said. “Rogdon needs us, her people need us. This is my command: Gerart and Urien, you’ll go to the Fortress of the Half Moon to direct its defense against a possible Norghanian assault, which I fear is imminent. King Thoran is a brainless brute, I doubt whether we can convince him that we had nothing to do with his brother’s death. You, Mirkos and Drocus, will go to Silanda to defend the city from the Noceans. I don’t trust those desert vermin at all. The greedy eyes of the Empire of the Deserts are set on our country.”

“As you wish, your Majesty,” replied Drocus and Urien.

“A little heat will be good for these rheumatic old bones of mine,” Mirkos said, lightening the mood in the hall.