Authors: Lana Axe
E
fren’s strategy
turned out to be successful. A sizable regiment of the Na’zoran army was
defeated, thanks to his plan. Gannon sent word thanking his brother and
complimenting him on his cunning. It was a small victory for Ra’jhou, and there
weren’t many of those to be found. The Na’zorans still had the upper hand, and
their mages were still a force to be reckoned with. So far, the king himself
had not encountered any mages. Rumors were spreading across the kingdom of
their immense power, and the citizens fled in terror at their approach.
Efren sat next to Ryshel, anxiously awaiting his
guest. After years of correspondence, a representative of Ral’nassa’s Grand
Council had agreed to meet with him. At first he insisted Efren do the
traveling, but such a voyage was impossible. With Gannon constantly riding off
to war, Efren would never have been granted leave.
A page entered the room, followed by a tall,
white-haired elf. “My lord,” the page said. “I present Master Uhnar of Ral’nassa.”
The bronze-skinned elf inclined his head slightly.
He wore an opulent, orange robe, decorated with swirling lines of yellow and
red. His long white hair trailed freely down his back, reaching well past his
waist. Standing nearly seven feet in height, he was the tallest person Ryshel
had ever seen.
“I am most grateful to you for meeting with me,
Master Uhnar,” Efren stated. “I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Hardly,” the elf replied. “I’ve come only because
of your incessant letters. You’ve got the attention of quite a few high-ranking
sorcerers, you know.” Uhnar smirked and shook his head. “They were going to
send a mere apprentice with a message asking you to stop contacting them, but I
decided to volunteer my services. I could do with a little amusement.”
Ryshel glanced at her husband, whose calm expression
did not waver. “It is good of you to come,” she said.
“Firstly, I do not converse with women. Dismiss
her and we shall talk.” He strutted to the fireplace and took a seat.
“It’s been a difficult road to get him here,”
Efren said to his wife. “I value your opinion, but I fear I must oblige this
guest. Do you mind stepping out?”
“I doubt I would enjoy his company anyway,” she
replied. With a curtsy, she exited, leaving her husband behind with the
sorcerer.
Efren made his way to the fireplace and sat across
from Uhnar.
“So,” the elf said, “you wish to learn magic.”
“I wish to learn a method of protecting my people
from magic,” Efren explained. “Our kingdom has never faced war against mages,
and we are unprepared. There is little chance of our survival without your
help.” Efren did not wish to sound overly desperate, but he must impress upon
this elf the seriousness of Ra’jhou’s situation. If what he’d read was correct,
they were an arrogant people who considered all humans inferior.
“It isn’t possible,” Uhnar said. “It would take
too many years. Your enemy has been training for quite some time, and they are
still inferior to us. Humans do not regenerate their own magic as we elves do. They
rely on massive quantities of potions to maintain their magical stores. It’s
rather pathetic.” His tone was almost humorous.
“Are you saying my people need not fear them?”
“Oh they’re deadly, to be sure,” he replied. “But
they are far inferior to elven sorcerers. You should at least consider yourself
lucky to be dealing only with humans.”
Efren took a deep breath and tried again. “Is
there any magical item you could supply that would help us? If we can’t learn
magic quickly enough, then there must be some other option.”
“There isn’t much.” The sorcerer sounded bored. He
had come to this land for amusement, and so far, he had found none.
At the risk of sounding rude, Efren replied, “Then
why have you come? To mock us?”
Uhnar laughed and clapped his hands together. “I
can see you are frustrated.” He stared into Efren’s crystal eyes and tried to
see the man inside. “You care for your people, and these so-called mages are
killing them. I personally don’t see them as a threat, but that is because they
are inferior in their training. I can speak to the Grand Council on your
behalf, if you would like.”
“Would you ask them to stop supplying potions to
the Na’zorans?” If Efren could not produce his own mages, he might at least put
an end to those of his enemy.
“No,” the elf replied. “We do not supply them. For
that, you would have to find someone on the Sunswept Isles who would listen,
and good luck with that.”
Efren was growing more frustrated by the minute.
He had tried contacting the Grand Council of the Sunswept Isles, but they had
ignored him over the years. It was disappointing to find out Na’zora’s mages
were not supplied by Ral’nassa. Still hoping to form an alliance, Efren asked, “Will
your council send aid? Troops? Mages? Anything would help at this point.”
“I said I would speak to them. That is all I can
promise.” The sorcerer slumped back in his chair, lazily twirling a strand of hair
upon his finger.
“Do you know anyone on the Sunswept Isles who
would be willing to converse with me? I have attempted to open talks with them
for years, but my efforts have been met with silence.”
“Now that is something I could do,” Uhnar replied
with a grin. He sat forward on his seat, placing his hands on his knees. “I
have connections that might be of service. I can also advise you on how to
speak with them more effectively.” With a laugh, he added, “They are a fickle
sort on those islands.”
“Your assistance is most appreciated,” Efren
replied, wondering what price this elf would ask. There was little chance he
had come this far out of the goodness of his heart.
“My assistance you shall have, Prince Efren,”
Uhnar replied. “As I said before, I’ve come for my own amusement. I trust you
have accommodations for me? I don’t plan to stay more than a day, though, so we
shall have to work quickly. Have your servants prepare a room and meet me
there.” He rose from his seat, adding, “Have them bring wine as well.”
Efren motioned the page to step forward. “See that
our guest is made comfortable. Give him the finest room we have available and
provide him with any refreshment he requires.”
“I’m told you have many handsome ladies here at
court,” Uhnar said. “I hope I’m not mistaken in that?” He raised an eyebrow at
the page, whose eyes darted back to Efren.
“Let us discuss business first,” Efren replied.
“My servant shall inquire of the ladies at court who might like to make your
acquaintance.”
“Splendid,” he said. “Boy, make sure my ship is
adequately supplied with wine. I’d like to take some of your vintage home for
my friends to sample.”
Efren nodded to his servant. If it cost him every
drop of wine in the kingdom, it would still be worth it to stop the mages from
attacking. He hoped Uhnar’s help would prove worthy of such a trade.
S
unlight filled
Aubriana’s chambers as she sat up in her bed. The window was open, and a soft
breeze made its way lazily through the room. The fresh ocean breeze smelled far
different from the mountain air she had loved as a girl. Though Na’zora had
been her home for many years, she could not stop her mind from wandering back
to better times spent in Ra’jhou.
Shala pushed aside
the sheer bed curtains. “Good morning, my lady.” Her voice was cheerful as
usual.
Aubriana managed a
half-smile. “Good morning,” she echoed.
“I trust you slept
well,” she said, reaching for the princess’s hand.
Aubriana sighed. Of
course she had slept well. There was little else to do in her bed. Since the
birth of her son, Prince Ivor had not visited her chambers even once. With the
production of an heir complete, he considered his duties in her bedchamber to
be over. He found pleasure in the arms of others, rather than in his wife’s.
Restrictions had been placed upon her, giving her little freedom to wander the
palace grounds. She seldom left her chambers. On rare occasions she was allowed
to attend court events, but those were infrequent since the kingdom was at war.
The highlight of
her day was a visit from Rayne, her son. He brought much joy into her miserable
existence. She would listen to him recount his playtime adventures, and her
worries would be lessened. Her mind was ever plagued by thoughts of Ra’jhou,
and the family she had left behind. If only she could visit, and take her son
as well. Perhaps she would not return to Na’zora. With Gannon on the throne and
her father dead, there was no one to force her back. If only there was a means
of escape.
Shala readied a
light blue gown for the princess to wear. “You’ll look lovely in this,” she
said, stroking the satin.
Without warning,
the prince burst into the room, the door clanging loudly behind him. Aubriana
startled and raised her arms to cover herself. Though the man was her husband,
she did not feel comfortable being observed in a state of undress. His presence
felt no more familiar than any other man.
“The king demands you
see him at once,” the prince said coldly. “I suggest you don’t keep him
waiting.”
“I wasn’t aware he
had returned from his latest campaign,” she replied. “I shall be with him
shortly.”
Without another
word, Ivor turned on a heel and exited the room, the door slamming shut behind
him.
“What do you think the
king wants?” Shala asked nervously. She lifted the dress over Aubriana’s head
and tugged at the laces on the back.
“I don’t know,” the
princess replied. “I’m sure it is to scold me for one thing or another.” The
king was rarely in residence, as he was far too busy making battle arrangements
to hold court. No doubt he wanted information about Ra’jhou. “He probably wants
to threaten me with torture if I don’t reveal my brother’s secrets.”
Shala gasped. “You
shouldn’t think such things, my lady. The king must know you haven’t had any
word from your brother.”
Aubriana smiled,
placing a hand on Shala’s arm. “Don’t worry. There’s little else he could do to
me that he hasn’t already. I’m his prisoner, and I exist only because he has
found no reason to dispose of me.” Though her words and posture suggested
bravery, in truth she was terrified. King Tyrol was a ruthless man, and any who
crossed his path could expect swift punishment. Whatever he wanted, it was
unlikely to be a trivial matter. He had never before requested her presence at
court without an important reason. Word of a happy occasion would have reached
her. This visit with the king would not be pleasant.
Shala immediately
began twisting Aubriana’s hair to secure it, but Aubriana held up a hand.
“Leave it,” she said. “He’ll be even angrier if he thinks I kept him waiting
for my own vanity.”
Shala released the
golden strands, allowing them to fall freely upon the princess’s shoulders.
With a nod, Aubriana headed out to the throne room, while Shala followed close
behind. Aubriana approached the king with a polite curtsy. He stared at her,
his eyes narrow, his expression severe. Ivor stood at the king’s side, his arms
held tightly behind his back.
“Did you or did you
not send a letter to your brother that contained information about our armies?”
Prince Ivor asked. He strode forward to stare into his wife’s eyes. In his hand
was a small piece of parchment.
“I did not,” she
replied. “I have no knowledge of your armies.”
The king shook his
head and waited for the prince to prove his case.
“I have a letter
here written in your own hand.” Ivor shoved the paper toward her.
Taking the page
from her husband’s hand, she scanned the writing. “This is not my handwriting,”
she declared. “I have not written to my brother since my arrival in Na’zora. I
have corresponded only with my sister-in-law, and I have not done so since the
war began.” In order to send letters to Ryshel, Aubriana had entrusted them to
the care of her closest friends. She trusted them completely. Neither the king
nor the prince were aware of these letters, none of which contained information
about the war.
“Liar! It is your
seal!” Ivor shouted. Snatching the paper from her hands, he presented it to the
king. “You can see, Majesty, that is clearly her seal on this letter addressed
to King Gannon of Ra’jhou.”
The assembled men
at court began to murmur. Aubriana looked around at their faces, knowing she
had already been convicted. There was no hope for a fair trial. It would seem
her own husband had drafted a letter in order to frame her. She failed to see
what such actions would accomplish, but she knew there was no chance of proving
her innocence. Perhaps Ivor was planning to have her executed, though there was
no reason to do so. He was free to pursue other women as he wished, and
Aubriana maintained her silence on the matter. If he wanted her gone, all he
had to do was send her away.
The king examined
the red wax seal. “This is indeed the seal of Princess Aubriana. She shall be
confined to her rooms with only one servant to wait upon her. She may have no
visitors.”
Aubriana felt a
lump rise in her throat. “Your Majesty, may I still be visited by my son?”
“Certainly not,” he
replied. “You will not corrupt the heir to this kingdom. Guards!”
As she pleaded with
the king to reconsider, two guards grabbed her arms and dragged her away. They
forced her back to her chambers, shoving Shala inside as well. The doors to her
chamber would be guarded at all hours from now on.
As the doors
slammed shut, Aubriana crumpled to the floor in tears. Shala knelt, taking the
princess’s head and pressing it to her chest.
“Please don’t cry,
my lady,” she said as tears ran down her own cheeks.
“My son,” she said.
“My son.” Aubriana could hardly breathe through the heaviness in her chest. She
was already a prisoner and had thought the king couldn’t make her life any
worse. How wrong she had been. Now she would be denied the one thing that
brought her joy. Without her child, she had nothing.