The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2) (13 page)

“Or she?” questioned Cefiz, his head snapping up.

Lilywynn smiled.

“In Borz society the preferred warrior is not the biggest or the strongest. A concept the children of Sprite admire. Only those of a delicate build are able to ride the winds of the southern desert. Naturally, the Borz choose many of their women as warriors.

The people of the sands train their warriors to manipulate the wind and its currents. Although they glide on these currents, at times it appears as if they can truly fly. Windriders change direction, soar higher upon a strong currents, even manipulate light weaponry as they move through the air.”

“That sounds impossible!” exclaimed Kael.

“It’s possible.” said Cefiz. “I’ve seen it.”

“But how do they fight once their feet are solidly on the ground?” scoffed Eidyn.

“You don’t need to stand toe to toe with a foe in order to defeat them, Prince Eidyn. Your narrow-mindedness astounds me.” scowled the beautiful young woman.

Eidyn reddened and cleared his throat.

“You’ll never drive an invader from your lands by flying about over their heads!” said the Elf prince.

“What if you drop in under cover of night and set fire to his camp, slipping out during the confusion? What if you poison his water supply, eliminate his guard patrol to allow your compatriots access. Run off his mounts. Spoil his food supply. Assassinate the commander....”

“Enough, my dear.” sighed Teeg. “My prince gets the point.”

Eidyn frowned at the old Elf. Teeg ignored him and moved to the center of the room.

“We aren’t beset by the Borz yet.” announced Teeg. “This is but one Windrider, and may not be a sign of a war with the desert people.”

“However, we must prepare for the worst.” stated Ader. “Someone convinced a Windrider, or possibly the Borz nation,  to find and eliminate Kael.”

“What more do we know of these Windriders?” asked Manfir. “Why would they side with Amird?”

“They’ve been a difficult group to infiltrate. The Borz desert is predominantly a wind scraped wasteland and the Windriders are a secretive tribal community.” continued Lilywynn. “The Borz drive their herds from oasis to oasis, watering them and collecting what food they can. Occasionally, they trade with the Elves or the southern Derolians. In the past they warred with one another over watering rights and travel routes.

However, in the last ten seasons they united under one man, Rada Shan. Shan has negotiated agreements between the tribes. The Borz are a contentious, fiery people and the agreements are tenuous, but they hold together thus far.”

“What do we know of Shan?” questioned Granu.

“Very little.” stated Lilywynn.

“Will this Windrider make another attempt on Kael’s life?” asked Cefiz.

“Undoubtedly.” returned Teeg. “They are nothing if not persistent. Life in the desert makes them a determined people.”

“You overlook an equally important factor gentlemen.” stated Lilywynn.

The men in the room all turned to the woman.

“The Zodrians.” stated the girl. “A Windrider must travel as lightly as possible. This crossbow and these bolts couldn’t have been carried to the rooftop by the Windrider. They are too heavy.

I believe the assassin entered one of the structures within a quarter league of the Hold and climbed to the top level. There are many towers and inns about the square that suffice. The assassin leapt from this structure sometime in the evening and alighted upon the rooftop of the Hold. There the assassin found the crossbow and bolts waiting.

I found this burlap sack tied to a chimney with a freshly whitewashed rim. Someone within the Hold collaborated with the assassin and provided it with the means to eliminate Master Kael. A Zodrian.”

The room went silent.

“We face another, more devastating problem.” stated Manfir. “The Borz will destroy our plans to reinforce the West.”

“How so?” asked Flair.

“We hadn’t anticipated a threat from the South.” said Manfir. “The supplies and men from the South are desperately required. If they are caught up in a Southern battle, the Northern battle will go poorly and ultimately we will all lose. Additionally, I cannot call upon the Elves for help when their own borders are threatened.”

Sprig turned and whispered into Chimbre’s ear.

“Quite right.” laughed Chimbre to his compatriot.

Chimbre turned to the crowd. He smiled.

“My cousin points out that you encounter no problem.”

“An unopposed force gathering to my South is most assuredly a problem.” replied Manfir.

“Ah, an unopposed force
would
be a problem.” said Chimbre. “But the Borz are definitely opposed. The Toxkri stands between the Borz and the lands of Zodra.”

Manfir considered this for a moment.

“It is a salient point, but I’m not sure I’m willing to trust the harsh swamp to protect my rear. Luck may play a role. The Borz may find a way through.”

Sprig whispered in his cousin’s ear once more.

“Your concerns are valid, Prince Manfir, for we are proof that the swamp is navigable, even habitable to those with an understanding of its ways. However, possessing that knowledge also makes us a considerable foe to any who try to pass through our lands.” said Chimbre. “If the Borz wish to advance on the lands of my Zodrian prince or of our Elven brothers, they must first face the long march through the Toxkri. Sprites people can make travel through the Toxkri very hazardous.”

“Are your numbers great enough to confront them?” asked Cefiz.

“The Borz most assuredly outnumber us.” smiled Chimbre. “But as my sister has pointed out, we have no need to confront them. We can make travel through the Toxkri so difficult it will take the Borz a century to reach Zodra’s border.”

King Macin swept into the room followed by General Wynard. The king quickly inspected the  situation. His eyes halted in turn upon Kael, Granu and Manfir.

“Your injuries are not severe and I have very little time before I leave for Rindor.” barked the king. “We held council amongst too many eyes. It’s time to plan in secret for I fear there still remain traitors amongst my people. Brelg secured this building and recruits stand ready on her battlements. Join me in the command chamber.”

The old king eyed the group once more and departed. Manfir stood and addressed the group.

“Follow me.”

They filed from the small chamber and turned East. They marched the length of the hallway and halted at a heavily bolted doorway near its end. Macin stood waiting as Wynard approached and drew a key from a chain around his neck. He unlocked the heavy door then snatched a torch from a nearby wall sconce. He gave the thick door a shove and it slowly creaked inward revealing a narrow stairway descending into the dark beneath the Hold. Macin took the torch from Wynard and tromped down the stairway into the gloom. Wynard followed. The remaining members of the group descended the stairs. Manfir passed through the door last. The Zodrian prince grabbed an additional torch from across the hall and closed the doorway tightly behind him.

Kael stepped from the last stair into a cramped, rough hewn room. The walls had been chiseled from the bedrock beneath the Hold. A wide round table sat in the center of the room and maps and weapons hung mounted to its walls. Wynard circled the room lighting several torches. Macin moved to the opposite end from the stairs and sat.

“There is no rank here.” proclaimed the king. “When a man wants honest ideas and opinions, he can’t get them if those he asks fear criticism from a higher rank. My father taught me that the first time I entered this room at the age of sixteen seasons. I’d forgotten it for a time. It required much in the way of heartache and loss to rediscover this point.”

The old king glanced toward Ader, then swept his gaze across the room.

“Sit, please.” said Macin.

The members of the group filed about the room and grabbed vacant chairs, nearly filling the positions at the large table. The room remained silent as Macin furrowed his brow and stared downward. Finally, the king smiled and chuckled.

“You must admit.” said Macin. “Amird and his servants don’t make things easy or straightforward.”

The room remained silent for a moment, then Ader replied.

“That’s why he’s called ‘The Master of Lies’, ‘The King of Deceit’ and ‘The Crooked One’. “ said the Seraph. “His battle rages against us on many fronts.”

Macin frowned and nodded.

“He may be the King of Deceit,” stated Macin. “But he deceives himself if he thinks assassins and traitors will be the downfall of Zodra!”

CHAPTER 6: SHARPENING BLADES

Kael woke in the blackness of his cell at the Hold. He slowly rolled to look at Eidyn’s bunk and winced in pain. The swelling around his face dissipated in the last few days but bruising  set in. The headache had yet to go away.

The boy threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat in the darkness trying to fully come awake. A voice whispered in the darkness.

“Can’t sleep?”

Kael looked to the corner of the room and could barely discern the dark figure of Flair within the blackness. The boy sat in an old wooden chair with his legs propped up on a small table.

“No, not really.” answered Kael softly. “How about you?”

“Oh, I could sleep if I would let myself.” said Flair through an unseen smile. "They work us so hard I’m always exhausted. But I like to be the first into yard after the morning bell. Usually, I stand at the front of the rank and I’m called upon to help demonstrate the lessons of the day. I don’t mind standing back and taking instruction, but hands on has always been my preference.”

“I hear you make quite an impression on not only father, but the other drill sergeants as well.” smiled Kael.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.’” chuckled Flair. “I know they’ve got plenty to offer and if I listen closely I might just learn a thing or two.”

“Well, you’re the first recruit into the yard in the morning and the last to leave in the evening. If there’s anything to be learned in this place, you’ll be the one that comes across it.” laughed Kael.

“I’d like to come across some quiet.” came the muffled voice of Eidyn from the bunk above.

Kael winced and stood.

“Sorry.”

He heard the ruffling of a blanket followed by the much clearer voice of Eidyn.

“Flair already knows more than the rest of these men put together. But a true warrior trains until the day he dies. Like a blade hung above the mantle, if it’s ever to be used it must be periodically cleaned and sharpened. You’ll train your whole life if you remain in the king’s service, Flair.”

Kael heard the training yard bell followed by the front legs of Flair’s chair slamming onto the stone floor of the room.

“I’d love to stay and chat.” announced Flair. “But I must go sharpen a dull blade.”

Kael sensed the boy move quickly across the room. The doorway was hastily thrown open and the low light of the torch lit hallway washed in.

“Leave it open.” called Kael to Flair as  the recruit moved through the doorway. Flair nodded then disappeared.

“He’s a feather in your father’s cap.” announced Eidyn.

Kael turned to the bunk where he could now see the Elf prince hanging over the edge of the upper bed.

“What do you mean?” questioned Kael.

Eidyn deftly rolled from the bunk and flipped to the floor.

“Oh, you know how these drill sergeants are.” began Eidyn. “Each is given a portion of the class to personally train. Brelg oversees it all but he too is given a group. Flair arrived after this group began, but has already established himself as the lead recruit. Brelg is very proud that a Kelky boy made such an impression. Especially one he personally trained.”

Kael grimaced. Eidyn was about to continue when he noticed the sour expression.

“What’s the matter?” asked Eidyn.

“Oh,  ... nothing.” stammered Kael “....or a lot. All I know is that it should be Aemmon out there. That should be Aemmon leading the class. Aemmon that Brelg is proud of. Instead ‘Old Sarge’ has a son that does nothing but sleep late and stare at the recruits from the balcony. I’m sure that tempers his pride a bit.”

Eidyn stepped over and put an arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“What are you talking about?!” exclaimed Eidyn shaking Kael. “Your father’s pride in Flair has nothing to do with you. Your father is extremely proud of you.”

“Why?” asked Kael shrugging off Eidyn’s hand. “Because I was born with some mystical pedigree I don’t even want? Because I helped lead his true son to an untimely death? Because I have every servant of Amird poised to kill anyone in contact with me? How does that make a father proud?!”

Eidyn stepped back and sat against the edge of the table. The Elf prince slowly stroked his chin.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right!” mocked the Elf. “Why would a man be proud of an honest, trustworthy, hardworking son? A son brave enough to face an uncertain future with an unknown past.  I mean, if he’s not some kind of larger than life hero, some savior, some incredible soldier, why would a man have any interest in his son?”

“That’s not what I meant!” snapped Kael. “All I’m saying is that I have no role. No idea of what I’m supposed to do and no way to....”

Kael’s chin dropped to his chest.

“...to make your father proud?” finished Eidyn softly.

Kael narrowed his eyes and nodded in agreement.

“I feel lost.” whispered the boy. “Lost in a world I know nothing about.”

“While all the familiar faces in your life change roles?” questioned Eidyn. “Even Flair?”

“Exactly.” muttered Kael.

Eidyn rocked forward onto his feet.

“Well, I can’t tell you how to completely solve your problems, Kael.” smiled Eidyn. “But I know one thing you can stop doing.”

The Southland boy looked up at the Elf.

“You can stop sitting back and feeling sorry for yourself.” stated Eidyn with a raised eyebrow. “The only person harmed by that action is you.”

Kael set his jaw and stared at Eidyn.

“Sad but true.” laughed Eidyn. “Self-pity is nothing but destructive.”