The Reborn King (Book Six) Page 29

  “Why are they bothering us with this nonsense?” Aremiel said. He sat down and handed the parchment to Vurin.

  Orias took a drink. “I really don't know. It’s not like she would choose either one of us to guard the sword.”

  “This is not a matter to be taken lightly,” scolded Vurin. “It is a great honor, and you should treat it as such.”

  Aremiel took the bottle from Orias and turned it up. After wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he gestured for the agent to join them. “I know it is. I truly do. But I am the son of The High Lady of Valshara. My mother would cut off her arm before she would send me to a place where she could never see me again.”

  “And I am the son of Morzahn,” said Orias. This caused Vurin’s eyes to widen. “Can you imagine the turmoil choosing me would cause? No, my friend. This is just a ploy to get Aremiel to come home for a while. His mother misses him.”

  “That, and the fact she’s afraid if I stay away too long, you’ll get me killed,” he added.

  “That too,” agreed Orias.

  “Whatever the case,” said Vurin. “You should leave in the morning.”

  Orias sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Then I hope you have plenty of wine for us to drink tonight.”

  The next day, though they were up early. Vurin was already gone.

  “Off spying on people, I suppose,” Orias said.

  “So long as it’s not us, I don’t care.”

  Valshara was only a week away, and the journey passed uneventfully. The two of them spent most of it talking about past exploits, both their own, and those of other knights. Aremiel loved the fraternity between the Knights of Amon Dähl. He often thought back to the days when his mother was still insisting he become a historian. It always made him laugh. He could never have been happy with such a boring life.

  When they finally they arrived at the gates of Valshara, ten men stood upon the ramparts and announced their arrival with a call of golden trumpets.

  “Well that’s new,” remarked Orias. “If I didn’t know better, I would begin to think they are happy to see us.”

  “I wouldn’t get too used to it,” Aremiel said. “When the new guardian is chosen, they’ll go back to ignoring us again.”

  The courtyard was packed with cheering people. Aremiel could feel his face flushing with embarrassment, but Orias was clearly reveling in the attention. His waved and smiled as they rode in, making sure to give each young woman he saw a playful wink. When they reached the base of the stairs leading up to the main temple building, two grooms took their horses and gear.

  Aremiel’s mother stepped out through the doors. On her left was Jylias, chief of the agents and a difficult woman at best. But the person standing to her right gave both men pause. It was Laraad. His head was held high, and he was smirking with thinly veiled contempt.

  The High Lady's face was expressionless. Aremiel knew at once that something was wrong. He could think of no circumstances that would prevent her customary smile every time he returned to Valshara.

  “I see her look too,” whispered Orias, sensing his friend's concern.

  “Welcome, brave knights,” she said when they reached the top of the steps. “Your presence has been eagerly anticipated. Only two candidates have yet to arrive. Your rooms have been prepared and your meals will be brought to you once you’ve cleaned and changed.”

  Even her speech was odd. She was never this formal with him.

  Both Orias and Aremiel bowed low.

  “Thank you, High Lady,” Aremiel said, mirroring her reserve. “But Orias and I would prefer to stay in the barracks.”

  “That would be inappropriate under the circumstances,” Laraad told them.

  Aremiel raised an eyebrow. “I was unaware of your elevation. Or do you make a habit of speaking out of turn?”

  “Laraad is representing the builders,” the High Lady said. “His master is ill and chose him to come in his place.”

  Aremiel bowed. “Then I congratulate you, Master Laraad.”

  “And I you,” he replied, unable to hide his scorn. “Both of you. This is quite an honor. One well-earned if the tales I’ve heard of your exploits are true.”

  “I’m afraid they may have been exaggerated,” said Aremiel. “We are simply servants of the Order.”

  “Indeed,” Jylias interjected. “And yet you have been set apart by your fellow knights as the best they have to offer. Such respect coming from the bravest among us must be warranted.”

  “Where are the representatives from the other vocations?” asked Orias.

  “They are in council,” Laraad replied. “We were given the honor of greeting you. But now we must return.”

  This confused Aremiel. In council? Rarely did the different branches of the Order all meet at once. There was no need. Healers had little business with historians, or builders with agents. So why would they need to be in council now?

  His mother’s eyes told him that the answer was not going to be to his liking. They were then shown to their rooms and provided with bath water and fresh clothing.

  Once changed, Aremiel went immediately to his mother’s chambers. She was awaiting him at her desk. Her expression was grave and her eyes bore the lines of age and fatigue.

  “What’s going on, mother?” he demanded. “Why are they in council?”

  “They are discussing who is to be the next guardian,” she replied.

  Aremiel nearly leapt from his chair. “What? How can this be? That choice belongs to you.”

  “I’m afraid that as my son is a candidate, I was forced to defer to their judgment,” she explained.

  Aremiel felt ill. He had been certain that his inclusion was incidental. Now, there was a real possibility that he might be spending the rest of his days alone.

  “Don’t worry, son.” She was doing her best to force the anxiety from her voice. “There are twelve candidates. And all of them have been a knight far longer than you. Most outrank you as well. It’s likely one of these will be chosen.”

  “I need to tell this to Orias.”

  “Orias can wait,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year. You will spend time with your mother. I’ve already sent for our meal.” She got up and stepped around the desk. “For now, push everything else from your mind. There is nothing to be done.”

  Aremiel smiled at her. “Of course. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.”

  They spent the next few hours together talking quietly. He then excused himself, promising to return early the next day.

  Later that evening he told Orias what he had learned. But his friend only shrugged and dismissed any possibility that either of them would be chosen.

  “The fact remains that you are the son of High Lady Velinia, and I am the son of Morzahn. I for one would most certainly not want to face your mother if they chose you.”

  Aremiel tried using this logic to calm his nerves. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

  It only took two days for the final candidates to arrive, but by then rumors were circulating that the new guardian had already been chosen. Even so, a feast was held to honor all who had been considered. Orias and Aremiel stayed at this only as long as courtesy required, after which they spent the rest of the evening in the training room. Sword practice always took Aremiel’s mind off things, and he was eager for the distraction.

  The night before the announcement was to be made, he was unable to sleep. He wandered the halls for a time, then made his way to the ramparts. Orias was already there, waiting for him.

  “At least we don’t have to bribe the wall sentinels anymore,” he joked.

  Aremiel thought about the first time they had been up here together.

  “You were so scared,” Orias said, reading his thoughts.

  Aremiel chuckled. “So were you. I just didn’t know it.”

  “I still am.”

  There was a long silence.

  “If I am chosen, I don’t think I can go
through with it,” Aremiel eventually said. “I can’t imagine my life without you at my side.”

  Orias placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a fond squeeze. “If you are chosen, you will take a piece of my heart with you, my friend. But you can do it. And as much as I hate the thought of you leaving, I can think of no one better to guard the sword than you.”

  “I can,” he replied.

  The two men stared out into the night in quiet contemplation. They had been together for most of their lives. That Orias was older and had become a knight first was the only reason they had been separated at all. For both of them, it had been a long three years. And as soon as Aremiel took the oath, he insisted that he be partnered with Orias. Now…it could all end.

  The next morning Valshara was a beehive of activity and excitement. The High Lady would be given the council's choice, and she would then read it aloud in the courtyard at midday. Every member of the Order who could attend would be there.

  Orias and Aremiel spent their time in the training room instructing the students. For them, it was an honor to have two candidates there. But for the two knights, it was a thrill to see the new talent that would one day be riding into honor and glory.

  When the time finally came, they were escorted to the courtyard. A platform had been erected, on which all the candidates were lined up at the rear.

  Trumpets sounded as the High Lady exited the temple and then ascended the platform. In her hand was a sealed parchment that contained the name of the chosen one.

  She raised her hand to quiet the crowd. “For thousands of years the Order of Amon Dähl has been charged with protecting the greatest power in the mortal world. And for thousands of years we have never failed in our duty. It is the reason the Order was founded, and our most important purpose of all. For that reason, only the very best amongst us is picked to reside in the Sword of Truth's resting place. There he lives, and there he eventually dies. This sacrifice is made to ensure the safety of all people, and is an honor not given lightly.

  “Behind me are the bravest and most honorable knights our Order has to offer. Their character and deeds have earned them all a special place in our hearts, and I feel that any one of them would be a worthy guardian of the sword. I know that I am not alone when I say that we are so very grateful for their loyal service.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment before opening the parchment. “But only one can be chosen.” She opened her eyes and looked at the name. For several seconds she did not speak. The crowd began to stir with impatience. “The one chosen is…”

  Her voice cracked and she was forced to clear her throat. “Aremiel.”

  The crowd erupted and immediately began chanting his name.

  Aremiel was unable to move. The sound of his own name did not seem real. His mother reading it aloud was like remembering a dream of years past, though it had happened only a moment or two ago.

  He felt someone take hold of his hand and pull him forward. It was his mother. He had not seen her, even though she'd been standing right in front of him. Tears were streaming down her face as she lifted his arm aloft. The sound of the cheers increased until the excitement reached a fever pitch.

  He was still unable to move on his own when his mother embraced him.

  “It will be all right, son,” she whispered into his ear.

  He wanted to say something, but had been robbed of his voice. After a time the crowd became calmer. Eventually, after managing to shake off the initial shock, he stepped down from the platform. Orias was close behind him.

  Ignoring the calls of congratulations from those he passed, he made directly for his mother’s chambers and waited there until she arrived. Orias sat beside him and said nothing. As soon as his mother entered, he leapt up from his chair.

  “I won’t do it,” he shouted. “I won’t spend the rest of my life in seclusion.”

  The sadness in her eyes was immeasurable. “You must. And you will not really be alone. The gods will be with you.”

  “Bah! Tell that to Orias. He’s the one dedicated to the gods.” He looked down at his still seated friend and immediately felt guilty. “Forgive my hasty words. I meant no insult.”

  Orias smiled warmly. “I know you didn’t. But your mother is right. The gods will be with you. You will hear their voices, and it will fill your heart with joy.”

  Aremiel dropped hard back down into his chair and put his face in his hands. “Why did they choose me?”

  “Because you are the best of us all,” Orias replied. “Everyone knows it.”

  “I know you don’t want to leave your life behind,” added the High Lady. “Or your friend. But it will be many years before the current guardian dies. Until then you are free to do as you wish.”

  Aremiel looked up. “Then I will continue with my duties as a knight and hope the current guardian is blessed with immortality.”

  “I think both Orias and I wish that as well,” she said.

  Orias got up and slapped his friend on the back. “Who knows? With me around you might not even live long enough to take the position.”

  Normally this would have brought an angry remark from his mother, but on this occasion she instead cracked a tiny smile. This quickly grew wider and wider until turning into outright laughter. Soon, all three of them were laughing loudly together…though no one really knew why. It was like an island of joy amidst an ocean of despair.

  “I think I will stay here for a few months,” Aremiel said after calming himself down. “I’d like to help instruct the new students.”

  “Sounds like fun,” agreed Orias. “I can show them why I am the superior swordsman.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he shot back, grinning.

  Orias winked. “We will indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Baltria- 32 years earlier

  “I hate this city,” complained Aremiel. “Too many agents.”

  “You hate every city,” said Orias. “All for the same reason.”

  “I just don’t like them. They’re far too devious.”

  The two men rode past the city gates, pausing only to ask the guard for directions. Not that they really needed them. But it was always better to appear as if you were new to a place. It helped to keep people from wondering why you were in areas that you shouldn’t be. And though this trip was not dangerous or covert, it was an old habit.

  “At least the food here is good,” said Orias. He spotted an attractive woman in a short skirt and thin blouse. “And the Baltrian women are much easier on the eye than those in the dirty little trading posts you prefer.”

  Aremiel shook his head in mock disapproval. “Then I take it I won’t be seeing you tonight.”

  “Not unless you come with me,” he replied. “You could keep me out of trouble.”

  “I doubt even I could do that.”

  “Agreed. But it’s an excuse to do something other than sit in your room and read.”

  In truth, Aremiel would have very much liked to go with him. But the time was fast approaching when he would have to take his place as guardian of the sword. There was still much he needed to know before that happened, and being that he had chosen to spend most of his time away from Valshara, he had to learn what was required during their travels.

  “I’ll think about it,” he lied.

  Orias scowled. “As you wish, commander. But you really need to get some enjoyment from life before you take up your position as guardian.”

  Aremiel didn’t like it when Orias spoke of their impending separation. “According to you, my heart will burst with joy when that time arrives. So why worry about what I miss out on today?”

  “There is no talking to you, is there?” his friend grumbled.

  They wound their way through the streets to the inn where they would be staying. Their assignment was simple. Remain at the inn until the agent contacted them, then escort her to a location in the Eastlands. As usual, there was no way of telling how long they might be required t
o wait. On their last assignment they had been held up in Helenia for more than a week.

  Naturally, during their time there, Orias had soon found a way of getting himself involved with a group of merchants who were extorting the temples. He had at first intended to simply frighten them off, but ended up beating two of them nearly to death. At the end of it all, in spite of Aremiel’s reprimand and outward anger, it was hard to deny that his intervention had greatly improved the situation. What's more, he'd managed to do it without anyone knowing that Amon Dähl was involved.

  On arriving at the inn, they ate a quick meal and retired to their rooms until the evening. The agent would know who to ask for whenever she showed up, so Aremiel took the time to relax. The place wasn’t upscale, but the beds were soft and the rooms clean. After weeks of sleeping in the open, it was a welcome respite. Unfortunately, his pleasure was not destined to last for long.

  Just as he was dozing off, there came an urgent tapping on his door. Experience had him grabbing his dagger before he even realized he was doing it. But before he could fully raise himself from the bed, the door opened and a woman entered. She looked to be in her sixties, though not frail. Her tanned skin hid many of her wrinkles, and only thin wisps of gray hair peeked out from beneath her bonnet. She carried a cloth covered bundle in her arms.

  “You are Aremiel?” she asked.

  “I am. And you are?”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” she replied.

  Aremiel could hear the anxiety in her voice. “Has something happened?”

  “Many things have happened,” she answered. “But what you should be concerned with is in here.” She laid the bundle on the nearby table.

  “What is it?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. He felt uneasy around agents. Particularly agents who kept dangerous secrets. And this seemed dangerous already.

  “There isn’t time to explain,” she said. “But there are things you must know before you take over as guardian of the sword.”

  His uneasiness rose. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  She moved close to the door before replying. “I was a friend of Orias’ mother. And to my eternal shame, I was the one who murdered her.”