I don't know who I am. Drifting in blackness intermittently sliced through with images of fire raging and sounds of shouted war cries, and screams of horror. I can't seem to get away from this place, this dark sea, rising and falling on its surface or drowning in its thick waters. There is no way out, so the only thing I try to do is to survive, to hold on, though I don't know what I'm holding on to. But eventually the swaying slows and stops. And then I just lie there cushioned in darkness. I lie a long while and then something, like pain. It hurts, is it pain? I don't know, I can't tell. But it comes again and again. Then finally I recognize it. Recognize its brightness. It is light. Light. There is a way out. I slowly start to move, to claw my way out. It is hard, the darkness doesn't want to let me go, but the light isn't fading either. I will reach it, I think, I will. I fight for what feels like forever; throwing off these cloaks of black, and reach, desperately, for the light. My hand barely brushes it, but I feel its warmth, and strive even harder, struggling much more than I've ever done and at last, at last, I reach the light. I enter it and collapse, in searing pain. 

It's too hot, no now it’s too cold. Voices echo all around me, making my head want to split. And my body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside. I gasp, trying to get enough air into my lungs, but each breath hurts worse than the last. The voices around me grow more frantic. Something is poured down my gaping mouth. I splutter and choke and then it's sliding down my throat. Then there is even more noise and then everything stops and for a moment I am left alone and the weight of all the pain falls on me and I scream in agony and trash involuntarily. Then something cool rests on my now burning brow and I feel a numbness slowly creep up from my legs all the way up to my head and then I know no more.

 

Karid slowly opened his eyes. It took a lot of effort to do so. So much that he almost closed them and went back to sleep to regain the energy he used to open them. But he forced himself to keep them open and looked blearily around the room. The room was large and airy, with lots of windows, though these all had fine drapes pulled over them, with light blue walls, and sparse furniture, which consisted of the bed he was lying on, two chairs and a small table.
The bed was large and comfortable, but Karid couldn't understand why he was in it. Yes, everything hurt, but why did everything hurt? The best way, he decided, was to probably get up, but even the thought made him feel more tired than he already did. So instead, he decided to wait for someone to come in. So he waited and waited, and tried not to fall asleep and waited some more, until he couldn't take it anymore and before he could think about it, sat up. 
He let out a none too muffled scream and fell back in the bed, whereupon he let out another scream, not more muffled than the first one. However that seemed to do the trick. As he lay there gasping, he heard footsteps hurrying towards him and then the door opened and someone burst into the room. The person hurried over to the bed and instantly began to inspect him. Then something wet was placed over his stomach which made him gasp and then he was suddenly able to breathe again. He took in several shaky but deep breaths and managed to calm himself and found that the pain was also fading. Another wet cloth was placed on his forehead and after about a minute, the person asked: 

"Are you okay?” 

Karid carefully turned his head to see the person, ignoring the screams of protest from his neck. It was a man, looking to be about 25 years, with a healers robe. 

"I am sore," was all he said, his voice rusty with disuse and the two screams he had just given. The healer nodded and said,

"That is to be expected." and poured out a glass of water from the mug on the table and carefully fed it to him. He eagerly drank the water and then rested his head back on the pillow.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You are in the healing rooms of Aclinad, in the city of Reclinobash of the Kingdom of Golboroth." 

Karid thought about that then said, "Never heard of it. What happened to me? How am I here?"

 

"That," said the healer starchily, "is what we were hoping you could tell us."

Karid narrowed his eyes in thought as he searched his memory. "I can't remember." he said at last.

"What do you remember?" asked the healer.

Karid searched his memory again and started to frown. Then his eyes narrowed again and his face went still.

"Nothing," he said blankly. 

The healer sighed. "We were afraid something like this would have happened. You were poisoned," he continued before Karid could ask. "With belansk poison. Quite frankly we don't know how you are alive, or how you stayed alive so long. We barely managed to save you. We didn't know what other effects the poison might have had." 

Just then they were interrupted by the entrance of a young man. He was dressed simply but his clothes were of good quality. Idly Karid wondered why his mind was taking note of such things. 

"Inrid, I heard the patient was awake," he said to the healer.

"See for yourself," Inrid told him and gestured to Karid. The young man fixed a piercing stare at Karid and Karid stared back at him unflinchingly. 

"Hey," said the guy, surprisingly gentle “You led us on quite a ride." Karid raised an eyebrow questioningly, even though it actually hurt to do so. 

"He doesn't remember anything," said Inrid. 

The man turned to him, "Anything? Not even his name?" 

"No," rasped Karid.

"Well," said the guy, "that's unfortunate. I suppose we shall have to give you one. Unless of course you'd rather name yourself."

Karid shook his head weakly, "Too tired to think of something right now," he said.

"Hmm. How about Nivarn?" 

Karid considered it. "S'okay," he said. 

"Good," said the guy. "I am Yoraed Jerisha, Prince of Golboroth."

Karid blinked a few times in surprise and then had to hastily force his eyes open before he just fell asleep. "Oh," he said then, "So why are you taking an interest in me?"

Yoraed grinned. "Probably because me and my men had to chase down your horse to get to you. And also because I had a hand in your treatment, which is not something that happens frequently."

"I see," said Karid shifting through his words to see if there were any lies. In the back of his mind he also wondered who he had been, for him to be someone who instantly distrusted anything anyone said. Inrid hadn't been lying and now Yoraed hadn't lied either but he did seem to be holding back something. Karid decided to let it be for now. He was too tired at any rate. The poison and his body's battle to overcome it, had sapped his strength. His eyelids drooped and both Inrid and Yoraed noticed. 

"That is quite enough Yoraed," said Inrid, "Poison takes quite a while to recover from and Nivarn's case isn't quite normal. He will need all the rest he can get." Karid tried to say he was fine but his body betrayed him and he slipped back ungracefully into sleep.
 

2: Chapter 2

"Execution!" "I propose something else. Exile!"A circle and glass. A secret compartment. "So brother what is it that you were hiding?" A flash of a brilliant smile in an otherwise faceless person. The feel of wind streaming back his hair as he rode across the green. A girl's laughter and sharp, beautiful eyes. A slash of sliver across a hand. A bridge rising out of the water and chattering in an incomprehensible language that almost seemed to make sense. Standing atop battlements that shifted from stone to wood. 

 

Karid's eyes snapped open. Frantically he tried to hold onto the images but they slid back into the void and he was left with a feeling of dreadful emptiness. 
He gave an angry sigh, lifted his head and smacked it back down on the pillow and instantly regretted it. He let out a small gasp as his head apparently bounced around the room. He lay still and waited for his head to stop hurting. After awhile it did but was replaced something else far more urgent. Karid groaned. Now he actually had to get up. 

Ten minutes, four screams, numerous little noises of pain and two wobbly legs (which wasn't doing anything for his bladder) later, Karid was standing upright by his bed. Now where in the blasted kingdom keep was the bathroom? While he stood there deliberating the door opened. 

"What on good-land are you doing standing?" said Yoraed. 

"About to make it bad-land!" Karid hissed. Yoraed looked puzzled for a moment and then understanding dawned and he grinned. He crossed the room, took Karid's arm and hauled him out the door and down the short hallway to the bathrooms.

"So," said Yoraed when they back in the room and Karid had been reinstalled into the bed, "Would you like something to eat?" 
 

Karid raised his eyebrows. "Aren’t you a prince?" 

"Yes," said Yoraed,” But I am also a prince of Golboroth. And I happen to spend much of my free time here. Besides," he continued, "Father is having one of his secret council meetings and has told me to go make use of myself somewhere, much to my great delight of course."
Karid grinned. 

"As to why I am here, Inrid and the other healers are taken up with several other patients which came in this evening due to farming accident in which sails of a windmill flew out and swooped out over a field of workers and collided with several of them." Karid winced. "As well as the more grievous accident in which some children were playing around an old water wheel and it jerked loose at last while they were climbing on it. As such all the healers are occupied and I was severely ordered again to go make use of myself and so here I am as you are currently the only other patient here who requires this level of care." Karid instantly narrowed his eyes in annoyance at that. But Yoraed simply fixed him with a stern look and said "Well it true and denying it isn't going change anything. Do you want some food?"

Karid glared (apparently he had a large pride that wouldn't go down easily) and then scrunched up his face and nodded. "Good," said Yoraed and left the room. He presently returned with a bowl of thin soup, neither wholesome nor tasty, but it was all Karid was allowed to have. Karid thought he might as well have not eaten and said so. Yoraed simply took no notice of him except to state that he was probably one of the most grumpy patients he had ever seen to, and while it was vastly becoming a great wish of his to let him starve to death, he did not think the healers who had saved Karid would think much of him if he were to let such a thing occur. 

After that Karid shut up and ate the rest of the soup, which was to his shame being fed to him, due to the reminder that the healers had saved his life.
After he was finished and Yoraed was assured that Karid didn't need anything else, he left with assurances that Karid would see him sometime tomorrow and bid him goodnight. Karid bid him a good night in return and his body once more succumbed to sleep.

Karid was tired of falling asleep. But that was all he seemed to be doing these days. Yet there was a restlessness in him that made the bed a prison but his body could not yet stand the strain of leaving said bed. It cheerfully ignored the inner restlessness and desire to go outside and stride under the trees and doled out healthy, necessary, but unwanted doses of sleep, in the required amount to heal one severely poisoned body and several cuts of assorted sizes. 
Karid hadn't known about the cuts until Inrid had shown up to dress them. He hadn't felt them and had been quite alarmed by that minor fact until Inrid told him that either with all the pain he had been feeling, he hadn't distinguished that these came from a different source or that he was accustomed to such wounds, or perhaps a mixture of both. At any rate it had estimated that he would take about three weeks to a month to recover. Yoraed had cheerfully delivered the estimate and had laughed at the look on Karid’s face. Karid had thrown the dirtiest swear words he could think at him but to no avail. Yoraed had just laughed harder and Inrid had sent him to sleep via a draught saying he that he must be tired after such an outburst. Needless to say Karid hated being a convalescent. 

He spent what time he had when he was awake, trying to prod his memory but his efforts were unfruitful. His memory stayed buried wherever it lay in his mind. He was currently engaged in this activity about a week after he had first woken when he was disturbed by a young woman entering his room. He turned his head as she came in and gave her his customary once over that he gave everyone who entered his room to assure himself that they were harmless. It apparently was a habit left over from whoever he was. 

"Hey," she said, "Nivarn right?" Karid nodded his head slowly. Who on good-land was she? "I'm Irana Deteriess, one of Yoraed's friends and a daughter of one of the noble houses. He told me about you and I thought I might come and see you and give you a change from his dreadful company," she said brightly. Too bright, thought Karid, inwardly cringing. How on good-land was he supposed to stand her?

He realized then that he was supposed to say something and frantically cast about for words to say that wouldn't sound offending. "It is indeed a great privilege and pleasure to be granted your company," he said, and gave a half mocking, half rueful smile, "Something tells me your company would be of finer class."

She let out a dreadfully high pitched and delighted trill of laughter. Karid fought not to cringe as the sound assaulted his eardrums. "Well it would seem that someone taught you to speak to a lady. Or is it that you are naturally so charming?"
"The charm is all mine," Karid assured her, inwardly wondering what was the fastest way to get her to go. 

"Humph, then perhaps you can rub off on Yoraed a bit. But enough about our dear prince's faults!" she said clapping her hands, "Lets talk about you. How are you faring in the healing rooms of Aclinad?" 

"Well enough lady," he said,

"Irana," she interrupted, "Please, call me Irana. Most do."
 

Karid nodded, "Very well," he said.

"Good!" she said clapping her hands together again. "And I am glad that you find our accommodations pleasing. We do try to keep up a standard." she said very primly.

Oh for the love of good land, thought Karid, can she get any worse? 
"I am sure," said Karid as sweetly as he could.

"Hmm, you really are well mannered. I wonder what on good-land Yoraed was going on about, saying you were quite terrible. He probably didn't want to say you are better mannered than he."

"Undoubtedly," said Karid and grinned, hoping it looked natural. 

"Now!" she said, "Is there anything I could help you with?"

Although Karid really didn't want to listen to her talk more, he figured he could use her chattiness to his advantage. 
"Tell me about Golboroth," he said, "I’m afraid I know nothing about it and Yoraed has hardly spared a word about it."

"Oh of course," she said, "It must be dreadful having to lose one's memory. Very well, I suppose I shall start at the beginning. Golboroth is one of the major kingdoms of this land. However it is a kingdom bent on peace. Its might does not lie in great armies, although we do have an army, but rather in great healers. Reclinobash is the City of Healing and the capital of the Kingdom. You are currently in the greatest of all the Healing Rooms of Reclinobash, the Aclinad. Only the worst cases or the most urgent are brought here and healers from here treat the royal and noble families. The Aclinad is also where all healers complete their training. We are the closest Kingdom to the mountains. We have one king, currently no queen, currently one prince and twenty noble houses. However while healing is our trade and specialty, we also have a healthy trade with other countries and the safest routes in all of the kingdoms here!" 

"That's impressive," said Karid, "So what does the prince do when he's not in here?"

"Oh Yoraed? He is in charge of our armed forces. He also investigates anything which the king decides needs a closer look at," she said dismissively.
Too dismissively. In fact everything she had told him had sounded rehearsed. Karid narrowed his eyes at her, instinctively, and then just as quickly widened them, hoping she hadn't noticed and asked him what was wrong. Fortunately she hadn’t.

“Really?” asked Karid, in genuine surprise.

“Yes,” she said smiling at him, “I know you’re thinking that he doesn’t look like one who would be in charge of that sort of thing.”

Karid gave a wide false grin even though sure he was sure that his face was going to crack soon. “I’m not thinking anything,” he said simply, “How am I supposed to know what it takes to lead the armed forces of a country? Besides isn’t he a prince?I’m sure he’s trained somehow for this right?”

“Well you are correct,” she acceded, “But don’t people want someone who is charismatic and strong?”

Karid shrugged, and then said, “I suppose, if the army was large, but if it isn’t, well people just like someone they can trust. How big is the armed forces?”

“Large enough of course!” she said with another trill of laughter, as if surprised that he should even ask. “But of course, our prince is quite charismatic,” she added.

Karid’s eyes narrowed instantly again at the sudden shift in opinion. It was a lure. Like the entire conversation. “Of course,” he said, flatly, not bothering to hide his tone.She looked surprised for a moment and then her face cleared and she smiled. Karid narrowed his gaze again and didn’t bother to hide it.

“Who are you?” he demanded, feeling thoroughly disgruntled at being fooled.She let out a laugh at his response and with that the facade broke. It was no longer the dreadful, high pitched trill; it had been, but deep and warm.

"I am as I said. I am Irana Deteriess. I am also one of Yoraed's friends. However that is not all I am. I am also one of his advisors. One of his inner circle you might say."

Karid glared at her for a moment, and then reluctantly admitted, "You are rather good at your job. I suspect you are the one who has eyes and ears everywhere, ready to bring information to the prince?"

"I am,” she said smiling, leaning back in her chair, a completely different person, than the one who had walked into the room.

"And Yoraed sent you for what?" asked Karid.

"He didn't send me, I came for myself. As for why, to see if you were a threat of course.As well as to see if you really didn't know as much as you said.Although I didn't get to confirm that. And also to see what kind of person you were."

"And now that you've seen me?"Karid asked.

"I'm not entirely sure that you are harmless," she said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a mocking smile. But the steel in her voice was clearly heard.

"And why is that?" asked Karid.

"Should I actually tell you?" Irana asked him back.

He considered and then said, “A smart advisor wouldn't."

She smiled at him, "Not the typical response," she said, "Yoraed did say you were unusual, more than even he could put his finger on. I'm seeing why now. I don't think your average person would know what a good advisor would or wouldn't do. Perhaps, you have played this role before." She arched an eyebrow at him as if expecting an answer.

All Karid could do was honestly answer, "I don't know. I can't remember anything. Anything at all. Not even the geography of the land. I know simple things, like how to ride a horse, or how to make a stew. I even recognized Inrid's robes as healer robes, but anything major or significant I can't."

"Hmm," she said leaning forward and studying him much in the same way he did, when he was trying to figure out if someone was telling the truth. "That is odd." apparently she had decided he was being truthful.

She settled back in her chair and fixed her gaze on him. "I don't think you are harmless because of the way you practically dissected me when I walked into the room, to see if I was a threat or not, and of the way you tried to manipulate me into doing what you wanted, and also because of the things you asked about. First about the kingdom, then about Yoraed and then about the army. All of these things speak to me of someone who is used to danger and someone who is very sly, perhaps like a spy."
 

Karid raised his eyebrows at her and she stared steadily back. Apparently she had decided to give him this measure of trust. 
"You manipulated me," Karid pointed out to her, "In fact I think you also dissected me, although far more discreetly."

She stared at him, then gave a startled laugh. "And so I did," she said, "Although I didn't think you catch me out on it. Nor did I think you would see through my facade. You are dangerous Nivarn, although I cannot say whether you will be an asset to our kingdom, as I am, or if you will bring us harm."

"At the moment," said Karid, dryly, “I don't intend to bring any harm to it. I do owe you all my life."

"But there are some who are like serpents, and they bite those who help them most. I hope that you are not one of those Nivarn," said Irana. And then she swept gracefully to her feet, inclined her head in goodbye, and left.
Karid watched her leave and stared at the closed door for a long time after, pondering on the encounter.

 

3: Chapter 3

"Thanks for siccing your scary advisor on me," Karid told Yoraed the next morning. 

"I did not sic the scary advisor on you," said Yoraed grinning at him, "But it has proven fruitful, I hear you can make stew."

"Not the kind of stew you'd want to eat," Karid assured him, "but it is nice to know you think she's scary too."

"If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask. I feel no shame in admitting it and neither does half the castle." Yoraed replied, setting down Karid's slightly more wholesome bowl of soup. "It's a shame about the stew though," he continued.

"Isn't it?" Karid said dryly. He sat up with Yoraed's help and took the bowl away from him pointedly and fed himself. Yoraed leaned back in the bedside chair and studied him intently. Karid, although aware, it was hard not to be, didn't say anything but let him look as long as he liked. It seemed that he was trying to decide something. Karid finished the bowl of soup and Yoraed took it and rested it on the side table and resumed studying him. After a few moments he said,

"Irana said you don't remember even the geography of lands. And you told Inrid that you never even heard of Golboroth."

"Both true," said Karid, "And still true. I haven't remembered anything since. "
Yoraed tilted his head, "I'm trying to figure out if it is because, you have lost your memory or if it is because you aren't from these parts. Although," and he tilted his head again, "I'm inclined to think the latter. However it could be a mix of both."

This time Karid tilted his head, openly curious, "Why do you think I'm not from around here? If by here you mean surrounding Kingdoms."

To his surprise Yoraed laughed. "You've forgotten what you look like haven't you?" he asked. Karid gave him a blank look and then his face went utterly still. Yoraed shook his head and chuckled.

"Come on," he said holding out a hand to him, "Let's see if you can hobble over to the mirror."
 

Karid shot him an annoyed look and with his help stood up and shakily made his way over to the mirror on the far wall of the room, which had been covered when he woke up, with a light blue cloth, almost the same color as the walls. Hadn't realized it was there until two days ago, when Inrid had uncovered it. But he also hadn't been able to see anything in it as it was placed in such a way that the patient in the bed could not see it. 

When they finally halted in front of the mirror Karid understood why Yoraed had that opinion. He didn't think he was from anywhere near here either. In looks he had an almost girlish face and it would have been if it hadn't been for the sharp jaw line which led down to a firm, squarish chin. He also had sharp cheekbones. His features were all the more prominent due to the recent loss of weight. His hair was a few shades lighter than chestnut and the strands towards the back just brushed the nape of his neck while the ones in front were shorter. His eyes were sky blue, and somehow piercing in spite of the colour.But none of that was reason why he looked outlandish. It was the bold swirls of black on the right side of his face, spiraling out across his cheek and curling up over his right eyebrow. 

"Oh," he said rather stupidly.
Yoraed gave him a sympathetic look and said, "We had to crop your hair on account of the fever and ague. Sorry."

"Don’t be," said Karid still staring at himself in the glass," I don't know if it ever meant anything."
Yoraed winced at the almost acid tone he used, laced with bitterness. 

"Are there anymore?" Karid asked him.

"Any more tattoos?" 

"If tattoos they are," said Karid.

"Oh yes," Yoraed assured him, "The healers checked. They definitely are. And yes, you do."

"Where?"

"There's another on the left side of your neck."
Karid carefully turned his head and tilted it to see the tattoo there. It wasn't as large. It was also black intertwining lines but they stayed confined within a rectangular shape.

"And one behind it, also on your left side. I don't think you can see it without breaking your neck. But it is three block like ones, made up of the same type of swirls and lines. They go down in a line. Then there are the ones on your arms."
 

Karid looked down at his arms in surprise. After a moment he said "I must be getting old."
 

Yoraed stared at him, "You didn't notice?"

"I don't know how!" said Karid sounding aggrieved, "It’s not like they’re very inconspicuous. They’re blue for the sake of the good-land!" The tattoos went from elbow to wrist, in a few shades deeper than sky blue. They were also lines but these were a more ordered and somber design. 

"Perhaps," said Yoraed, "You're just accustomed to seeing them. Maybe that's why you didn't really notice."

"Maybe," said Karid uncertainly still frowning."Anymore that I need to know about?"

"There's one on your right collar bone."

Karid tugged open the strings on the V-neck of his tunic and pulled the neck line down. This one was by far the largest. Starting from his right shoulder and sprawling across his collarbone, before tapering to the middle of his chest. It looked like a sharp edged triangle made up of the same swirling black lines. Or rather symbols because he could see that it wasn't one connected one. 

"I wonder what it means?" he mused to himself.

"You still don't remember?" asked Yoraed sounding disappointed. Karid carefully shook his head. He was still prone to headaches. Yoraed sighed and guided him back to the bed. 

When he was settled in he looked at Yoraed and asked, "I'm being a lot of trouble for you aren't I?" He looked surprised and opened his mouth to answer but Karid cut him off. 

"You don't know if my being here bodes ill. And you're worried because the defense of your kingdom is up to you. If indeed of course, Irana did tell the truth about that. You also don't know where I'm from and what type of person I am, or was at any rate. And no doubt Irana gave you her opinion of me, which was not very comforting. My coming, has given you a lot of trouble Prince."
 

Yoraed looked down at him, his eyes shifting from normal to piercing. The gaze of a ruler. "True," he said, "Although I dearly wish it were not so. I don't know what you herald, if you herald anything. And I hope it is not ill. I rather like you for some reason or the other," he said his voice softening at the last. 
Karid gave him a wry smile and Yoraed turned to leave. But when he reached the door he turned back and said, "However, whoever you are Nivarn, I do not think it is someone normal." And with that he left.

"Neither do I," Karid said to the empty room.
 

Late that day Irana found Yoraed in one of the spare storerooms. He was staring at the contents in a large open truck. "So," she said, "What are you going to do?" 

"I don't know," he said softly. "The way he is now, I cannot think he is evil or means evil."

"But?"

"But, the things in this trunk, I do not know what to think of them." He gave a strained half laugh. "He came in here dressed like a warrior, but even so, it was not any normal warrior. Have you lifted his quiver?"

"No," she said. Yoraed bent and took it out of the trunk and handed it to her. She took it and almost immediately dropped it for its weight. Yoraed grabbed it before it hit the floor and took it from her. She stared in puzzlement at the almost empty quiver. 

"Why?" she said, confused. "How is it so heavy?"

"Because of this," said Yoraed and he took and arrow from it and handed it to her. As before her hand dropped from the weight, but she caught herself and lifted it to examine it. It was both longer and thicker than a typical arrow.

"How heavy is it?" she asked in a hushed whisper, still staring at it disbelievingly. 

"Two pounds," said Yoraed, the incredulity showing in his voice. "Can you imagine someone carrying a quiver full of two pound arrows? I certainly can't."

"But what type of bow shoots two pound arrows?!" said Irana fiercely, "It would make no sense to try and shoot arrows that heavy. They would go nowhere. There's no bow that can give enough power to shoot an arrow like this. You might as well throw a spear and hopes it makes the same blasted kingdom keep distance!"

In response Yoraed jerked his head to the wall where a bow hung on a peg. "One like that," he said softly, "Although, I still cannot see how it would shoot any such arrows."
 

Irana crossed over to the bow and took it into her hands. "Where is the string?" she asked. Silently Yoraed took it from the trunk and handed it to her. She strung the bow with an effort and then eyed it. It was the strangest bow she had ever seen. Its wood was amazingly flexible, yet it had stored within it ridiculous strength. The string was tough, tougher than any bow string she had yet seen. The bow itself was round and bore no device or markings save to two odd additions. On the upper and lower limbs of the bow, equidistant from the tips were a short metal sheath clamped onto the bow with double prongs curling back toward the string. She tested it lightly and then said, "Well I admit it would shoot a normal arrow a fair piece, but it still cannot shoot arrows of that weight or make. And it would certainly take someone stronger than I to use it."

"Yes," said Yoraed, "It is difficult even for me to use constantly. Besides even if the bow was bent back far enough to shoot one, it would most likely shatter from the strain or break before it released the arrow. Yet somehow it appears he uses it. And that scares me. I do not want to see what damage a two pound arrow can do, if released with enough force."
Irana winced and then de-strung the bow and hung it back up. 

"His armor too is different from any I've ever seen. He had an arsenal of knives," here Yoraed shifted the contents of the trunk for Irana to see, "and a barrage of darts." Lying among everything were many small red feathered darts. "Then there's his sword." Yoraed pulled a long straight sword from the chest, still in its sheath. "It's better quality than most weapons I've seen. This was very specially forged. There's designs on the blade, very spare, and an insignia on the pommel. But I don't recognize it and neither do any of my men. I've sent people out to investigate, very discreetly, but don't think we'll turn up with anything." He rested the sword back into the trunk. 

"But what bothers me the most," he continued, "is what you already know about."

"Has the healers contacted you about it?" she asked.

"Yes," he said quietly, "All of the black darts in that package, carried poisons. All of them either very deadly or very painful. They don't think that there are antidotes for some. Some they don't even know what they are. And," here he sighed, "no matter what they do, they cannot remove all of the poisons from the darts. Weaken them, remove most of them, but they cannot remove them." He gave a harsh, mocking laugh, "It is strange is it not, that he comes to our kingdom, severely poisoned yet he carries poison tipped darts with him? And carries them separately too. It makes you wonder. Wonder if him being poisoned was because someone else did it or if, he did it himself to get into our city. And he is clever enough to use one bad enough that a Jerisha will have to help. It would prove a point, and he would be inside our walls, ready to strike when we least expect." he gave an angry sigh, and then took a deep breath “It has happened before," he added very, very, softly."

"I was surprised that you spent so much time with him alone," said Irana.

"I gave him chances," he said, "I wanted to see if he would take them. And I also wanted to see if remembered more than he said. But everything he says and does, refutes that. He has been honest as you yourself have seen. I just don't know!"

"Keep watching him!" said Irana, her voice suddenly steely. "That is my council Lord. Keep watching him. We don't know enough about him to make any decision. We cannot condemn an innocent man nor release a guilty one."

He looked at her his features tight, and she could see his mind working. At last he nodded, "Very well," he said his voice almost harsh and devoid of any emotion. "We'll let him roam for now. I will make no judgment on him yet. Watch him carefully Irana, you and your people. I will not let anything happen to Golboroth."

"And Golboroth will not let anything happen to you Prince," she told him softly. And then bowed her head and left him. 

stared at the trunk unseeingly for a few moments and then closed it. "Yes," he said to it, "you have given me a lot of trouble Nivarn." And then he turned and left the room, remembering to lock the door.

4: Chapter 4

After three dreary weeks in bed, Karid was allowed to get up and walk around, having been deemed strong enough. In fact he could have been up even earlier but the healers wouldn't allow it. They were still surprised that his body had thrown off the effects of the poison so fast and so efficiently, especially a poison as deadly as belansk. They had decided to take no chances and Karid had been confined to the bed a few extra days before they had reluctantly given him the permission to become a normal person again. As such Yoraed was there to accompany him through his first walk in Reclinobash. 

"So," said Karid, "Where are we going?"

"Well just out of the healing rooms, for starters. When we reach there, if you're alright, well go to the market square," Yoraed replied. 

"I'm pretty sure I won't die by the time I reach the outside of the healing rooms Yoraed. I'm fine," said Karid in exasperation. 

"Nivarn, my fine fellow, the three weeks estimate was a hopeful one. No one expected you to get better in three weeks, far more for getting better before three weeks. And even so, we don't expect you to be at your full strength."

"I'm not at my full strength, but I don't need to be to walk from here to there!" Karid retorted. Yoraed simply sighed and threw up his hands. 

"We shall see Nivarn, we shall see."

As they walked through the extensive healing rooms of Aclinad, Yoraed noticed that Karid began to fidget ever so slightly. He was gently twisting his arms back and forth as he walked. It grew increasingly worse as they continued but Karid seemed to be unaware of it. However by the time he started rubbing his forearms, also subconsciously, Yoraed decided to say something. 

"Do you want to cover them up?" he asked Karid.

"Huh?" said Karid.

Yoraed gestured to his tattooed forearms. "I don't think you're accustomed to having them out in the open."

Karid looked down at his arms in surprise, focused on the tattoos and said hesitantly, "I guess not."

"Come on, there's a supply room not far from here," Yoraed told him. They walked to the supply room, where Yoraed located a clean, long sleeved tunic, which Karid shrugged on. Then they continued on their walk.

By the time they had walked through the extensive healing rooms of Aclinad and emerged out by the gates however, Karid was fine. They stood on the broad steps and Karid discovered that the healing rooms overlooked the city. They stood for awhile looking at the bustle of the people below and then Karid carefully turned in a circle, taking in everything. Karid discovered that the city was in levels. The first level appeared to be lower city, where most of the people lived; the second level was the town area itself, where most of the businesses were located, which included the market square. Above that was the healing rooms, where they currently were. Above their level was the upper city, where most likely the twenty noble houses lived. And above all that was the castle, where Yoraed and the rest of the royal family lived, along with close advisors, highest nobles, etc. Around the kingdom itself spread great farmlands, and Karid could see tiny figures in the distance toiling away. He turned away from them and began to inspect everything in greater detail. All along the buildings and the walls of the city, soldiers paced. The greatest showing was around the castle of course. But Karid soon discovered that a nearly equal amount of guards lurked everywhere, they just weren't as prominent. 

Yoraed watched rather fascinated as Karid's eyes roamed the city. He saw him asses the defensive capabilities of the city's design, and the advantage it would give to the defenders. He watched as Karid carefully picked out every place where a guard or solider was lurking and almost visibly measure the distance for them to him, from all the guards closest to him, and the ones atop the watch towers by the castle should they either try to attack him or shoot him. His eyes quickly sought out escape routes and scanned every person who passed by in seconds, checking them to see if they were a threat or not. This last one Yoraed had seen him do before, every time someone had entered his room, but he had never seen him do it so fast. Then Karid turned his gaze back to the market square and he quickly dissected the scene before him. When he was satisfied he turned to Yoraed, "Nice city," he said grudgingly, "So do I get to go to the square?" Nope, Nivarn was no normal person. He didn't even seem to be a normal solider. "Well, you seem to be alright, so I guess we'll try the square and see how you hold up." Yoraed told him teasingly and laughed at the annoyed look that Karid shot him. 

Karid was ever so glad to get of the healing rooms and stretch his legs for real. He was even happier entering the market place. Somehow it gave him a sense of home. But he didn't think much of it. Any place had to have a market place, somewhere where people converged. But it made him happy anyway. They wove in and out of the stalls, and Karid discovered that fresh produce was not all that was sold. He was soon degraded to asking Yoraed what was all the strange plants that were in the stalls. Most of them it turned out were plants of medicinal properties which various members of society would either buy to use or to make them into salves etc, which they then resold. "Really is a healer kingdom," Karid muttered under his breath, "You'd think they were always sick, the amount of herbs they're trading."
 

Yoraed heard him and snorted. "It’s our trade, you cow, of course we'd have a lot of it."

"Firstly," Karid told him, “I am not a cow," (one refers to a silly person as a cow as cows are thought to be very slow); "Secondly I think I'm just impressed. And thirdly that blacksmith has pretty work but poor quality and is really over charging that man who is trying to buy a sword. Of course if he's trying to buy it, then perhaps he deserves to be cheated."

Yoraed looked to see what he was talking about. "What's wrong with the sword?" he asked.

Karid looked at him and said simply, “I wouldn't buy it if I was depending on it to save my life."

Yoraed stared at him, "I don't think it’s that bad," he said.

"No, it isn't," Karid agreed, "But I wouldn't buy it and it still isn't worth the price that blacksmith is calling for it."
Yoraed opened his mouth to say something else but the debate was cut short by the man leaving the stall in disgust, without the sword. 

"Smart man," Karid said smugly.

Yoraed shook his head. "You are the worst," he said but he was grinning.

"And fourthly," Karid said, "Did you send the man that has been following us since we entered the square?"

Yoraed stared at him in surprise and frowning said, "Yes. How did you know? Even I lost him a few times."

Karid shrugged, "I thought he was rather obvious." Yoraed shook his head again. 

"You are full of surprises Nivarn," he said and made a 'come here' gesture with two fingers over his shoulder
Immediately out of the crowds from where he had been hiding a man appeared, melting out of the moving mass of people with ease. He was dressed in typical commoners’ garb, brown and gray. 

"I see I've been spotted," he said, his voice deep and amused. 

"So it is," said Yoraed also rather amused, "Perhaps you better brush up on your skills my friend."

"Or track a lesser quarry," he said, raising his eyebrows at Karid and grinning at him.

Karid grinned back and said easily," That would be wise."

"No modesty from this one huh?" said the man to Yoraed, grinning even more.

"It is a thing both foreign and unfamiliar to him," Yoraed said cocking an eyebrow at Karid, teasingly.

Karid simply shrugged smugly and then burst into laughter. When he subsided he said, "Your praise is well received but not merited I think. Perhaps the crowds were against you today. They didn't seem kind."

 

"Well," said Yoraed, "That has got the be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard out of your mouth, apart from when you were talking to Irana. But even then you were just trying to get rid of her. This is actually genuine." 

"Is that so?" laughed the man, "Well then I guess I must thank you. But you give yourself too little credit. You have very sharp eyes Nivarn."

"It appears so," Karid said wryly, "And who are you may I ask?"

"Nivarn meet Arlad, the general of Golboroth's army, and my friend," said Yoraed.

"My pleasure," said Karid easily.

"As is mine," said Arlad. 

"Have you seen enough of the square Nivarn?" asked Yoraed, "I do think it's time we got you back to Aclinad."

"Must I? I've just gotten here!" Karid protested.

"Seeing that you've found me it is rather pointless to have you out here," said Arlad.
 

Yoraed shot him a furious look and Karid gave an 'Ahhh' of understanding. 
"Not much to be learnt from me today huh?" he said, "But still can I look around? I don't want to go back. I have been caged up in those rooms for three weeks. You might at least have some sort of mercy and let me out from more than an hour. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of compassionate prince of the healer kingdom of Golboroth?"

Arlad sputtered with laughter at the jab and Yoraed stared at him incredulously and then gave a huff of laughter.

"Don't you have nerve?" he said shaking his head, "Fine, you'll stay for some time more." he shook his head again and stared at him in puzzlement.

"What?" asked Karid genuinely curious.

"You are the first person I've ever met that isn't mad at being followed or watched."

Karid shrugged, "I told you. I know I am a lot of trouble for you. I understand. If I were you I'd probably do the same thing. But I also have no intention of doing anything to your kingdom. So look as much as you want. I’ve nothing to hide. If I do, I can’t remember it."

Arlad and Yoraed both looked at him keenly and he bore the weight of their gazes, noting how different they looked as they assumed their roles of prince and general. 

"Well," said Yoraed breaking the silence, "Lets go see the rest of the square if you really want too. Only in return you're going to have to drink a glass of Seraday's spiced wine."
Karid raised his eyebrows and looked at Yoraed suspiciously. More so when Arlad shot Yoraed a horrified look.

"Yoraed! Inrid will kill you if you let him drink that!" he protested in alarm.

"I know," said Yoraed, never taking his eyes off Karid, and grinning evilly, daring him.

Karid narrowed his eyes and said, "Fine."

Arlad stared at him and said, "Save me. You two are very bad for each other."
 

It was almost two hours later when they returned to the healing of Aclinad where they found Inrid at the top of the steps waiting for them. He took one look at Yoraed's guilty face and Arlad's apologetic face and then turned his gaze to Karid who was still prone to little fits of giggles. He then turned back to Yoraed and in a very heavy and measured voice, laden with false calm, asked, "What did you do?"

Yoraed cringed but gathered up his courage and answered "He drank Seraday's wine."

"He drank Seraday's wine," repeated Inrid very calmly.
Yoraed nodded and Karid watched the scene with growing delight. Arlad cringed. 

Inrid took a deep breath, "What did you do?" he asked again. Yoraed cringed even more.

"I challenged him to drink Seraday's wine."

"You challenged him to drink Seraday's wine," Inrid repeated again, still calmly but this time you could hear the thunder of wrath behind it. 
Both Yoraed and Arlad cringed again and tried to sink into the floor. Karid burst into giggles. 
Inrid passed a hand over his face and visibly tried to keep his composure. "General Arlad I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Yes, Healer," said Arlad gratefully, "I will take my leave, graciously if you please." and fled with little disguised relief. 

Inrid turned his burning gaze to Yoraed who did his best not to flinch. An angry healer was a terrible thing to face. "Come Prince," he said in savagely clipped tones," And bring the other with you." He then turned and whisked into the healing rooms. Karid, still giggling, followed him and Yoraed brought up the rear.

When they reached his rooms Karid was ordered to sit on the bed where he was thoroughly examined, although Inrid seemed both annoyed and exasperated with his giggles. He couldn't understand why. Everything was funny. But then he didn't look like he had a great sense of humor. Maybe it was a healer thing? But then that would mean that most of the kingdom would be serious and humorless. What a shame. Karid thought laughter was essential to life. Maybe he could tell them. Then again, if the Prince's face was anything to go by this was not the time to share his philosophy. For some reason that stuck him as being funny. He began to giggle again. Yoraed sighed and Irind's face, if possible, became even more stony. 

But by and by over the next half hour, his mind became gradually clearer as he shrugged off the effects of the viciously spiced and hideously potent wine. He finished the food that had been brought to him after Inrid had finished and took a look at the prince who hadn't left him and finally identified the look on his face as amused concern. Something he had been unable to do for the last half hour (even if he had been trying very hard). 

"I'm fine," he said, startling Yoraed who had at that moment been staring out of the door. 
Yoraed looked at him and then took notice of his sober state with surprise. Karid grinned at the surprised look, identical to the one he had worn earlier when Karid had downed the cup of spiced wine and did not give out the typical half gasp, half whine, noise that usually accompanied any drinking of the wine nor the frozen, stricken, open mouthed look which came as the result as feeling as if steam was coming from one's eyes and ears. Or so he had been told. Karid had not had that feeling although he did admit to himself that it had burned something fierce on its way down. What's more, more to Yoraed's and Arlad's and to a good many other people's ', awe he didn't get drunk or even tipsy right away. In fact he hadn't even begun giggling until they were halfway to the healing rooms. 

"You're sober!" said Yoraed not even bothering to edit the surprise and incredulity out of his tone. 

"Yes," said Karid, "Or at any rate close to it."

"Close to what?" asked Inrid wearily from right outside the door. Yoraed removed himself from the doorway to let him pass into the room. 

"Close to being sober," Karid answered him.

Inrid looked surprised and then walked over to him and checked his eyes.                                                                                                                    "So it seems," he said straightening up, and regarding his with both awe and suspicion. 

"What are you?" asked Yoraed unable to restrain himself.

Karid laughed but this time it was genuine laughter and not half hysterical giggles. "A man who can apparently hold his ale very well," he answered.

Yoraed stared at him and then shook his head and Inrid said slowly, "I think you will kill me before my time, Nivarn. I hope a puzzle such as you never graces my life again." 

Karid grinned at him and said, "If it will shorten your life, then I hope so too."

Inrid looked startled and then gave him a rueful smile. And Yoraed complained, "How are you nice to everyone but me?"

"Because you like me," said Karid and flashed for what they realized as the first time, a real smile at him. 
Inrid and Yoraed were both shocked at what it caused to be revealed about him from his features. For that brief second, although Karid didn't know it, they saw someone who was both proud and happy at what he had, someone who was both hard, as if graven from stone, but someone who was also gentle, someone who was kind and wise, but not above fun. And they saw someone with shadows in his eyes but shadows that did not and had not dominated him. And that glance more than anything had them believing and trusting that he was not a bad person. A scary one perhaps, but one who could be trusted.
Karid cocked at eyebrow at them when he realized that they were just staring at him. He watched Yoraed visibly pull himself together and exclaim, "That doesn't even make sense!" 

"Yes, it does," he said blithely while wondering what it is that had caused to act as they had and what had they seen in his face. For they had seen something. He could see in the way they were regarding him now. They had seen something that had changed their opinion of him. Hmm, he thought, maybe I should smile properly more often. There was a mental pause and then his brain said, nah. He didn't know what it had revealed about him, and thus didn't what anything else to show for some reason or the other. And also something inside told him his true smiles were not given very easily. He had slipped, probably due to the wine, but he wasn't going to do so again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why he instinctively hid anything about himself, why he was so wary about anything of him being known, even if he did not know it himself. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5: Chapter 5

Two days later, when Yoraed came to Karid’s room to carry him for his daily walk, (he still wasn't allowed to roam freely by strict order of the healers) he told him, "My father wants to see you."

"What?" asked Karid, feeling rather shocked.

"My father, the king, wants to see you," Yoraed said slowly.

"I heard you the first time," said Karid, "Why does he want to see me?"

"Use your brain," said Yoraed calmly. 

Karid scowled at him and quickly ran down possible reasons in his head. The list was short. "To judge me for himself," he said.

"Yes," said Yoraed, "You're to see him two days from now, after court. Not of course that anybody will leave after court."

"Two days? I'll have an audience?"

"Yes, most want to see you for themselves. Your appearance has caused quite a stir. Most think you're rather savage. I told them they were all too close to the truth, regretfully. You're very inhumane, with a vicious temper, and must be locked in your room, only be allowed to come out for brief occasions because you're too dangerous. And I as their prince escorts you myself to ensure no other comes to harm." He was smirking by the time he finished.

Karid's glare had slowly increased through the entire description and now he was staring at Yoraed as if he wanted to burn holes through him. 

"You better have good reflexes Prince!" he spat, "Or you really will come to harm!" Then he turned away shook his head and ran a hand through his messed up hair. "Oh for the love of good, good land!" he said, "So basically you made me look like some hostile savage and yourself as the hero, thereby damming my initial impression before I've even made it."

"Yes," said Yoraed cheerfully.

Karid glared at him again but Yoraed simply smiled at him. Karid narrowed his eyes and Yoraed stared back innocently at him. Karid assessed him and then came to the conclusion that something was up. Then he said, "Fine Prince, whatever your reasons."

" Good," said Yoraed, "Now, I think after we get back to the rooms we should fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?!" Karid asked feeling mildly outraged at the implications. Yoraed said nothing but gave him a look that spoke volumes.

"Alright, it’s bad but not that bad," Karid conceded. Yoraed gave him a repeat of the look. Karid huffed but stuck to his point.

"We'll have to fix your hair," Yoraed told him as if he had never spoken a word. "There is no way I'm letting you walk into court looking like that."

"Hey!" Karid protested, but there wasn't much heart in it. His hair had grown pretty quickly in the last three week but due to the non stylish way his hair had been cropped, it looked a mess and Karid knew it. But he also knew that the most logical way for his hair to be fixed would be to actually cut it shorter and into another style. But Karid didn't want to cut it. According to Yoraed his hair wasn't yet near the length it had been when they'd found him. And childish as it may seem, he wanted to see what he had looked like. He fell silent pondering what to do but after awhile shook himself out of it. If he had to cut his hair again then fine. There were more pressing things to think about.

"Yoraed, do I have to do anything specific when I go to court?" He asked.

"Yoraed shook his head, "Just be yourself," he said, "My father isn't very strict. Nor does he lean on protocol very much."
"I see," said Karid. But he sensed much more beneath the surface. Just be yourself, Yoraed had said. And for some reason Karid found that odd. For someone like himself, the more usual thing he thought would be to caution him to be respectful, strict king or not. For anyone really. Something was up. The question Karid thought, was if it was the prince alone or if he was acting under orders from the King of Golboroth. 

Later that evening, Karid was visited with Inrid, Yoraed, Irana and a man he didn't know. 

"Nivarn, this is Asted, he's a barber. He's here to fix your hair."
Karid scowled and Irana laughed. 

"Your really don't want to cut that hair do you?" she laughed.

"I'd like to get it back to my original length," he said.

"How about you do that after we make it look less like a mass of weeds?" Yoraed asked. Karid scowled at him. 

"My lord," the barber interrupted, "If you will let me?" Yoraed paused and then nodded. The man turned to Karid, silently asking permission. Karid narrowed his eyes and studied the man. The barber flinched a little but held his ground.

"Alright," Karid conceded, "What do you have in mind?"

The man shook himself a little dazedly after being released from Karid's gaze. "Quite terrifying," he muttered to himself. Then he pulled himself together and said, "If you would like, sir, I can cut your hair so that it will regain the same style I am told you came here with when it grows out but will be acceptable for your meeting with the king." 
Karid narrowed his eyes, considering, loath to part with whatever bit of hair he had managed to grow for the last month, but it looked like he had no choice. He sighed and nodded. Everyone present looked relieved, the barber most of all. 

"Don't worry sir, it won’t be as short as you think it would be," the barber said, eager apparently to reassure him. Karid nodded again but said nothing. 

"Well," Yoraed said, "If Nivarn doesn't mind, perhaps we can start now."

Karid sighed and said, "Just get on with it. We'll see how I look after."

The barber nodded and after arranging him, set to work. The others were shooed out the room, although the door was left open.

Half an hour later the barber was done and Karid sat looking at himself in the mirror, whilst the barber was getting rid of all the discarded hair. His hair was short, shorter than even the barber had wanted to do it, but his hair had been cut even more ragged than the barber had guessed. He still had slight bits of hair that were longer in the front, but they didn't fall on either side of his face really but more hung toward his eyes. The hair in the back was also shorter, cut to compliment the front. He looked good but he looked dangerous, Karid decided. This look, he thought, was not going to help him with his audience with the king. The barber went to the door to tell the others that they could come in. 

Irana came through the door first but when she saw him she stopped abruptly and her face held a perfect look of shock. Yoraed who came in behind her also held a shocked look before he schooled his features by dint of much self control.

Oh good-land. It was Yoraed's first though after he entered the room after Irana. In front of him Irana stood still, frozen in shock. He felt much the same way but, he carefully pushed her shoulders causing her to move forward so he could move past her and into the room properly. Karid was looking at them intently but not saying anything yet. Yoraed was glad. At the moment his intensity was all he could take. He walked across the room to where he was sitting and bent and gently cupped his face in one hand. He could see the surprised look on Karid's face, but he didn’t say anything. He stayed still and let him examine him. 
Oh good-land Yoraed thought again. They hadn't realized any of them, how much the hair that had framed his face had softened the hard edges of it. Had softened the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the firm determination of his chin. They didn't realize how much it had hidden how piercing his eyes really were. But now bereft of the hair that had framed his face, it was all suddenly too prominent. Which brought out the boldness of the tattooed lines which swirled out across his face and deepened the intensity of them. And therefore altogether Karid looked far more dangerous than he had half an hour ago, far scarier. In fact he looked a little like how he had looked when he had really smiled at him. Like he was graven from stone, each feature sharply chiseled, but more than it should have been.

" I think," he said slowly, "what I told the nobles about you, wasn't quite so far from the truth after all.” He released Karid's face and stepped back from him to study him again. 

Karid grinned at his statement. "I told you I didn’t want to fix my hair," he said smugly.

"Did you know?" Irana asked abruptly, having coming up behind Yoraed after getting over her shock. Karid tilted his head at her questioningly.

"Know that you'd look like this?" she elaborated.

Karid shook his head. I don't think I’ve ever had cause to cut my hair before. Not that I can actually remember, but it just feels that way." 

"Oh," she said. Then seemed to collect herself properly. "Well, the court's going to have a shock, that's for sure. And I think Yoraed you had better warn your father. Nivarn's appearance isn't something you should throw on someone unsuspecting."

Karid felt hurt. "I don't look that awful!" he protested. Yoraed laughed. 

"You don't," he told him, "But you are rather, um, how should I say? Startling, I suppose."

"No more than you!" Karid retorted. And it was rather true, Karid thought. Yoraed grinned at him, "I suppose," he conceded, "But people are used to me, I daresay they'll get used to you after time. However this is the first time they'll be seeing you properly for themselves and not just hearing of your appearance by rumor. It will be rather a shock for them." Karid narrowed his eyes and then nodded. 

"Fine," he said, "But if the king gets to hear how I look, then I want to know how he looks."

Irana shook her head at him and sighed. Yoraed suppressed a grin albeit unsuccessfully. He looked at Irana and lifted his eyebrows at her. 

"Oh tell him!" she snapped at Yoraed, "You know he'll badger you and anyone else until you do."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Karid told them. Yoraed laughed this time and then said, "A lot like me actually. I take by him. But, as to be expected he is more older, a little more care lined and with a gaze far sharper than I think I’ll ever have."

"King's insight," said Karid, "or ruler's curse."
Both Yoraed and Irana looked t him puzzled. He frowned and then elaborated.
"It’s what they call a kings gaze or sometimes his whole demeanor. That sharp, penetrating gaze meant to see into the hearts of men." He looked from one to the other. "You've never heard it being called that?"

Both shook their heads. "Oh," said Karid in a smaller voice. And then he shrugged. 
"Well," said Yoraed recovering from the odd interruption, "that's really about it. The rest you'll have to see for your own."
Karid titled his head again and simply looked at him. Yoraed looked at him

"What?" he asked.

"Same eyes?" Karid asked him.

"Oh," said Yoraed in understanding, "Yes, same eyes. Same color hair as well."
Karid nodded.

Yoraed studied him for a moment and then said, "You just wanted to know about his eyes didn't you?"

Karid smiled at him and Yoraed sighed and passed and had over his face while Irana chuckled. 

"It is rare for a Jerisha to not have them, Nivarn. It is a family trait," she said.

"Ahh," said Karid quickly filing away that bit of information for use when he got to court, "I see. Well, let’s hope I do well before the king and somehow don't get myself thrown in the dungeons in spite of the King's vaunted relaxed attitude."

"Let's hope," said Yoraed with a sigh. But to Karid, he didn't sound much hopeful. 
They eventually left to allow him to clean up as he still did have hair stuck to him apparently everywhere under his clothes. He didn't even know how it got there. 

But as he settled into the tub of water and began scrubbing away at his skin trying to remove the irritating hair particles, his mind turned toward the Jerisha family trait. The startling eyes of the Jerisha. Eyes that were not like any Karid had seen. They were blue but Karid found it difficult to describe the blue that they were. It was a few shades lighter than dark blue, but felt like they held the depths of the ocean. Not midnight blue, but held the same sort of mystery as a starry night sky. The best Karid could think of to describe it was a magic blue. It was probably close to cobalt but not so light. And their eyes themselves held a twinkle, like if stars or light was somehow contained within but not conspicuous. Yoraed, he had realized, always seemed to sort of bank down the strange intensity and old world feeling his eyes gave off. He was not old, nor had ever had anything happen to give that old look in his eyes. That much Karid knew. That look wasn't his, just something he inherited because Karid had seen it sometimes drop away and Yoraed come through, with his own brand of hardships and struggles. And he was not that old. 

Those eyes and the sandy brown, almost blond hair, was what Karid thought was probably the dominant traits of the Jerisha. He would see when he goes to visit the King.

6: Chapter 6

Two days were probably not a long time and soon enough Karid found himself standing outside the doors of the Castle with Arlad waiting for his cue to go in. He was dressed in much nicer clothes than he'd had since he go here, which had been brought to him by Yoraed last night. He had no weapon of course and he was being closely watched by the guards by the doors. That however he had expected. Yoraed wasn't with him as he had to be with his father during court. He had assured Karid he would be standing beside his father’s throne. At which Karid had asked why princes had to stand all the time. Yoraed had cocked an eyebrow at him and asked him how many princes he had seen. Karid had shrugged. They both knew the answer; he didn't know.

At any rate Karid was now here standing in front of the very large silver colored doors, unarmed and about to face the King of Golboroth and his court with a stomach full of careening butterflies.

He shook his head to displace the short strands of hair from his eyes. "So," he said to Arlad, "Do you think he'll throw me out?"

Arlad slanted his eyes to look at him and then said, "If you use that charm that Irana says you actually have, then I don't think so."

"Is he a king to be swayed by charm?" Karid asked raising an eyebrow.

"No," said Arlad, "But it will make things much more pleasant."

Karid grinned at him, noting how he man stiffened slightly, "Well, can't argue with that," he said. Yoraed had told him to keep his smiles as charming as possible as he looked downright wicked and mischievous when he smiled normally, with his new look.

At that moment the doors open and a courtier came out and said that the King was now requesting the presence of one Nivarn. Arlad looked at him and said, "That's your cue."

Karid took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and glided into the court. At least that was how it appeared to Arlad who was walking close behind him and to everyone else who saw him as he walked in. Karid only knew that was trying not to appear as a savage creature and didn't realize that his smooth movements were unnerving them even more.

As soon as Karid stepped through the doors he found that all his butterflies had dissolved into mist and he felt like he was slipping into a role he had played many times before. The hall of Reclinobash was long with tall columns going down the center all the way to the dais where the king was seated with Yoraed standing behind him, hands behind his back, his face impassive. The court was behind the pillars and separated by railings strung between the pillars. They sat on chairs which were set on several raised platforms which gradually increased in height. Like very large stairs. The whole hall was generally decorated in what Karid had come to know as the colors of Golboroth, blue and silver.

He walked down the hall between the silver pillars and stopped midway and instead of the deep bow Yoraed had told him was the one thing he had to do, found himself doing something else. He inclined his head to the side but still raising his eyes to meet that of the kings. Behind the king he could see Yoraed shake his head ever so slightly. The whole hall had been deathly silent from the moment he had walked in but after he had, well, given his version of a bow, he could feel the tension become even more palpable.

Karid suddenly wished for a sword. He wanted to set his hand on the hilt to have something to do with at least one of his hands. Instead he had to let both hands hang by his sides. He fought to keep his fingers from twitching, even more so because he was wearing a shot sleeved tunic and the tattoos on his hands were in full view.

He was acutely aware of the crowd staring him down and taking in his appearance even as he watched the King raise both eyebrows at him with an amused lift to his lips. He felt the crowd come to the conclusion that he really was a savage moments before the King spoke.

"You are the one called Nivarn?” he asked, his voice much deeper than Yoraed's yet still holding a musical lilt. His blue Jerisha eyes locked into Karid's and held.

"Yes, your majesty," he answered. He heard the crowd draw in a breath as they heard him speak for the first time. The King cast his court an amused glance and then looked back to Karid and smiled slightly when he saw that Karid had allowed his amusement to the court's reaction to show. Yoraed's face did not move from its impassive look.

"Welcome to Golboroth," the King said simply.

"I thank you for it," Karid replied smoothly, "Allow me to express my gratitude at your hospitality and the skilled hands of your healers."

He felt the surprise of the court at the way he spoke. They had expected him to speak quite differently.

"It is our pleasure to save life," the King replied.

"There is no greater pleasure, Lord," Karid said simply. He was aware of many a widened pair of eyes among the court and saw the faint twitch of an eyebrow from Yoraed and a swiftly suppressed smile before his impassive mask settled back into place.

"Especially when the life is yours?" asked the King raising as eyebrow.

"No, any life, your majesty," Karid inclined his head again.

The King regarded him for a moment and then said, "It has come to my attention that you have suffered to loss of your memory."

"That is correct, your majesty," Karid said.

"Have my healers said if there is any hope for you to regain it?"

The question of course was really for the knowledge of the court. The King's healers would have told him everything beforehand.

"They do not know, your majesty. My condition is not one that has ever come to their attention before. At least under the circumstances."

The King gave a perfunctory nod. "Then I am given to understand that you remember nothing of your life before or of the lands from which you came?"

"Yes, your majesty. All of this knowledge is lost to me."

The King considered this and then said, "You have the apologies of my healers. Perhaps if they had worked but a little faster this may have been prevented."

"Oh no your majesty. No apology is necessary. It is a poor price to pay for life. And life I have due to their skill."

"A man is made up by his experiences," the King said raising an eyebrow again.

"Then I suppose I shall have to become a new man," Karid said differentially.

"As a newborn babe?" asked the King and Karid saw the start of a smile on his lips.

"If you would have me so," Karid said amiably.

There was a deeper moment of silence for a moment before the court lost its reserve and small sounds of laughter came from it. Behind the King Karid saw Yoraed's shoulders shake slightly with restrained laughter.

The King smiled at his answer. "Is this the way you tell me you will me imposing on my generosity for some time more?"

"A good a way as any," Karid replied lightly, "However if you do release me gently from your fair kingdom, I am sure this babe is old enough to survive." There were a few sounds of mild outrage at his daring from the court.

The King laughed and sat back in his throne and appraised him properly with his wise eyes.

Karid likewise returned the favor. He didn't know what the King saw about him but he did know what he saw about the King. He was, as Yoraed had said, very much like Yoraed, with lines of care in his face. His eyes of course, the Jerisha blue and filled with the cutting gaze of a ruler. His hair was the same sandy brown, almost blond and his face was slightly angular. He saw a king who was fair and just and quite able to know when someone was lying. No, he was not very apt to stand on ceremony but he was a strong ruler and able to be as hard as he needed when necessary. There was pain, well hidden, in his eyes for a great loss, probably that of his queen, perhaps something else, but there was also much joy. He was also more deserving of the old look that was inherited with the Jerisha eyes and unlike Yoraed he did not bank down the intensity of them one bit. The king did not let life trample him down. He was a ruler who cared deeply for his people and life in general and not a man who allowed pride too obscure his vision. In other words, a good King.

"Tell me Nivarn," said the King, "Where did they teach to you speak ever so charmingly?"

"I suppose in savage school, your majesty, they might have taught us how to speak to the civilized ones," Karid replied and ignored the gasps of the court, "But since I can't remember, I will take all the credit for myself." He smiled his most charming smile at him. And them for the first time turned his head to look the court at one side of the room and allowed his smile to shift from charming to sickly sweet as if to say, how could you ever think I was a savage creature?

The court blinked in surprise and some smiled unconsciously back. Karid was internally wondering how on good-land that was working considering his general appearance. He turned to look at the other side of the court who were string at their fellows on the other side wondering at the change in their demeanor before they were caught and held by the sweetly innocent smile.

When he looked back to the King, the King was wearing a neutral look but Karid saw his eyes were twinkling with suppressed amusement and surprised appreciation. Yoraed's face remained impassive but his eyes were beyond incredulous.

"My apologies for the rumors of the court," the King said smoothly, "And my own assumption." The King of course had had no such assumption; he was just trying to make the court feel better.

"No apology necessary, your majesty," said Karid graciously "I know how I appear, although I no longer know why my appearance is such," he finished with touch of regret, thereby winning the court over to the idea that he wasn't a savage and would never harm them even more than the smile had.

The King inclined his head in acceptance, "You are gracious," he told Karid.

"Nay, my lord, I owe you much, one small rumor hardly warrants any apology from you and your people when I owe so much to them." If Yoraed could have whistled in surprise, he would have.

The King shook his head, "We must always be gracious, a favor does not allow a host to be ill mannered."

"If that is how you feel, your majesty, then your apology is accepted with much forgiveness," and Karid inclined his head to the King.

The King nodded back and said, "Very well, babe in arms, do grace my kingdom a little longer. For it goes ill with me to send away one who has not perhaps healed as well as they could."

Karid allowed surprise to grace his features and then smiled and said, "You are truly gracious. I thank you for your generosity."

The King smiled and said, "Your thanks is well accepted."

Then he stood and the whole court did too. "Court is dismissed," he said, "Nivarn," he said before Karid could go, "Please attend to me in my study now, I would speak further with you."

With that he swept out of the room through a door on the side of the dais. Karid stood awkwardly for a second and then followed him.

 

"Well, well," commented a voice from behind one of the pillars to Irana who was also seated cleverly behind a pillar, where they had both been throughout the entire scenario. "Has definitely spoken to Kings before."

Irana looked up at Dirida, who was looking after Karid. "Yes," she replied, "And quite often too, I think."

"Oh, undoubtedly," came a male voice. Irana and Dirida turned to see Nraed who was leaning on the pillar and looking at them with his Jerisha blue eyes.

"At least he didn't manage to terrify the court," said another male voice. They smiled at the newcomer, Jenid, who was threading his way through the chairs to reach them.

"Yes," replied Irana, "We were lucky. He can scare people all too easily if he wished."

"Well, at least we have succeeded in doing what we wanted," said Nraed.

"Yes," said Jenid, "We have confirmed that he is well accustomed to speaking with royalty."

"And knows how to act in their presence," Dirida observed.

"Actually what really stands out to me,” pointed out Nraed, “are how well he played the court. There are actually few people who can play a court well, in any kingdom. That being the royal family itself and their well trusted advisors who have been around for some time. Not, I think a soldier, not even a general. And unfortunately that is what everything else about this Nivarn points to him being."

"Well, that is how things are here," Irana pointed out, "It may not be like that in other places."

"True," Nraed allowed, "Anyway," he continue, "I must go and see what the court thinks now. Tell Yoraed I'll report back to him this evening."

"He already knows," said Irana, "He'll be expecting you." Nraed nodded and then left.

Dirida sighed and said, "What do you think the King thinks of him?"

"What we do, of course," answered Jenid, "That everything he has seen, only goes to show just how dangerous, this Nivarn really is."

"Whether he know it or not," said Irana.

"Oh, I think he knows it," said Jenid, "He knew what he was doing."

"Yes," said Irana, "but I think it was more out of self-preservation, not an active desire to destroy a kingdom from the inside."

"His self-preservation did allow us to see many things," said Dirida.

"Of course," said Irana, "Why else did Yoraed plant those rumors?"

"Perhaps for the court to be so surprised by the difference in what they heard to reality, that they would accept him more easily than they usually would especially because of what happened before?" Jenid said raising his eyebrows.

Irana sighed, "That too. He really does like him for some reason or the other."

"Where's Inrid?" asked Dirida, "He was supposed to tell us what he had learned from Nivarn's medical state."

"I suspect he is still putting together the report," said Irana, "When I visited him this morning the only thing he would say was that Nivarn would probably kill him before his time. All the healers were actually alarmed by his rapid rate of recovery. They don't know what it means."

The other two bit their lips in concentration as they thought. Finally Jenid sighed and shook himself out of thought. "We had better go," he said,” We have other things to do. Yoraed will tell us what happened later tonight."

With that the three of them stood and left the court and headed their own ways to do their jobs. There were lots to do today.

 

7: Chapter 7

When Karid passed through the door on the side of the dais, there was no one there except the King who was walking rapidly down a corridor. Karid hurried after him. The King led him to a door which opened out to a fairly large room. The room boasted a table covered with papers, a large comfy chair and very little else. There was a small alcove in one side of the room. Karid couldn't see inside it from where he stood. The King stood on the other side of the table and gestured for Karid to come closer. He eyed Karid for a moment and then said, "I heard you are close with my son,"

Ahh, thought Karid, so that's why I'm here. He nodded.

"Do not even think of harming him," he said.

Karid shook his head solemnly, “I wouldn't even dream of it. In fact if I heard him correctly, he played a part in saving my life. I am not so callus as to think about hurting one to whom I owe a great deal. Besides," Karid smiled, and saw the King's eyebrow rise, "I am fond of him."

The King studied him for a moment and then nodded. He switched his attention to the table in front of him. He selected one of the papers and gestured Karid over. Karid went over and peered down at the paper. It was a map. More specifically, he realized a map of Golboroth, if the large dot saying Reclinobash was anything to go by.

"Tell me," said the King, "If there were attacks here and here," he pointed out two areas of the map, "And you had only say, two hundred men at each point. How would you defend this city?"

Karid raised his eyebrows at the sudden change in topic and in the topic it had changed into. Then he bent his head again and studied the map. One frontier was along a border, backing into farmland, the other along a bridge. As far he could see two hundred men could probably hold either place. The border stretch wasn't large and the bridge had no difficulty in being held. He studied it for a while longer and then said, "How many attackers are at each point?"

"Roughly about two hundred," the King answered.

Karid narrowed his eyes at the map and then said softly, "What are the attackers?"

The King's surprise and admiration was evident in the look he gave him.

"Viscecrals and Lodecates," he answered.

Karid stared at him blankly for a moment. The King sighed and said "Viscecrals are water creatures and Lodecates are earth creatures. Both have malicious intent. Both groups are harming people in that area. Viscecrals can survive out of water and travel over land. They have been known to wipe out entire kingdoms before in ancient times."

"Ahh," said Karid, "Niecrals and Grasswalkers. I've never seen one. We regard them as myth."

The King instantly latched onto his words. "We? And who may that we be?"

Karid sighed, "I have no idea," he said, "I can't remember."

The King regarded him closely for a few more moments and then turned his attention back to the map.

Karid did as well. He scrutinized it for a moment and then said, "Send half of the men from the border to the bridge. Let the other half remain and keep back the grasswalkers or lodecates. Bring all your civilians from those fields and set the closest fields afire. The party at the bridge should be enough to hold back the niecrals for a little while. Pour oil and tar on the river and light it. They may be vicious but they usually left when the closest and most comfortable water source is polluted."

The King watched him closely again and then said, "If I do that, I'm losing a great deal of my fields, indeed a part of Golboroth."

"Better to give ground than lose all, especially when you can win it back with care and patience and a decidedly less greedy head," Karid said in the tone of someone who was saying something by rote.

The King raised his eyebrows and a whistle sounded from the alcove. Karid didn't even bother to turn.

"Where did you learn that?" asked Yoraed.

Karid turned and gave him and Arlad a wry smile, "Have you ever had something so beaten into your head that even amnesia can't get it out?"

"I cannot say I have," said Yoraed grinning at him, “although to be fair I’ve never lost my memory.”

"You knew they were there," said the King. It was not a question.

"Of course," said Karid turning to face the King, "I didn't really think they would let the king be locked into a room with an inhumane savage, with a viscous temper, who must be locked into his room because he is too dangerous." As he said the last part he slanted his eyes toward Yoraed and glared at him.

Yoraed grinned with wicked humor.

"Well of course," he answered.

Karid shook his head, "And I actually said something nice about you," he said with mock regretfulness. The King watched with a small smile playing on his lips as he saw for the first time the banter between the two of them.

"And by the way, next time you want to guard the King, you might want to stand a bit closer," Karid added.

Arlad frowned, "We can reach him in time from here," he said.

Karid moved.

Before they knew it his hand was lightly gripping the King's neck. The King's hands were paused in mid-motion from when he had tried to grab Karid's arm. Karid released him and bowed his head to him in apology and turned to Arlad,

"Whose time?" he asked. There was silence for a moment and the Arlad removed his hand from his sword hilt and said with a thin smile that covered razor teeth, (or at any rate that's what it looked like to Karid),

"It seems we have to take your advice,"

Karid inclined his head gracefully again and turned and looked at the map like it was his savior from the awkward moment he had gotten himself in and was mentally cursing himself for. He didn't even remember where he had learned most of those words. He just knew what they meant.

"You figured out the solution to that pretty quickly," said Yoraed jerking his head he the map, thereby breaking the awkward moment. Karid shrugged.

"It was pretty simple," he said.

"Actually we were stuck," admitted Yoraed. Karid shot him a look and turned to look at the King. The King gave a single nod.

"It seems," he said in his deep voice, "That we have a 'greedy head' as you so quaintly put it. We did not want to displace our people and most of all we didn't want to lose our land, especially farmland."

Karid narrowed his eyes and his face went blank before he said, "Sacrifices must always be made. If one gives it willingly, the price is easier to bear and the mind clearer."

Yoraed whistled again and said, "It seems, Nivarn, whoever managed to beat those into your stubborn head must have done some good beating."

The comment broke the mask from his face and he grinned, as he was sure Yoraed had meant him to. He grinned even wider when he noticed Arlad's reaction to his expression.

The King however said, "You are clearly military learned."

Karid narrowed his eyes again and then gave a half shrug. "Maybe," was all he said. He was acutely aware of three pairs of eyes bearing down at him. One a ruler's curse, one a ruler's curse in training and the other the sharp, cutting gaze of general. Then the King let out a humph and said, "Yoraed, Arlad, prepare the men and the things they would need to follow Nivarn's plan."

Karid blinked for a few moments but before he could say anything, the King said, "Nivarn, you are dismissed."

Karid looked at him. Simply stood and looked at him, with narrowed eyes and then said, "Aren't you going to show me the real map so that I can ensure that the maximum amount of Golboroth's soldiers come back alive, as I am sure is your desire?"

There was shocked silence for a moment and then Yoraed opened a draw and pulled out another map.

"How?" asked the King.

Karid snorted, "Savage remember? There's no way you're going to let me see the real map at first."

Yoraed shook his head and then said, "I think I am in agreement with Inrid. You are going to kill me before my time."

Karid smiled at him. "I hope not," was all he said.

The King pointed a finger toward the map and Karid dutifully went over to the table. He didn't miss the fact that Arlad's hand was on his sword though.

"By the way," Yoraed's voice came, breaking the moment of silence that had descended while Karid studied the new map, "You seem to be handling having the tattoos on your arms exposed pretty well."

Karid almost laughed at the statement. Only a prince of Golboroth would think to ask about a patient's wellbeing in the middle of what was, apparently, a mini war-council. Instead he snorted. "Do you have any idea, how much will power it's taking right now to not fidget uncontrollably?"

"Oh," said Yoraed then, "We really need to get something for you to cover those up."

"That," said Karid, "would be nice." And returned his attention to the map.

 

8: Chapter 8

When they finally left the King's company and were walking down the hallway back to the healing rooms Karid said "I'm going with you."

Yoraed stopped, turned to face him and said gently, "You know you can't."

Karid narrowed his eyes but said nothing for a few minutes and then nodded, "You can't trust me yet. Especially in a battle, where an accident might just happen." Yoraed nodded.  "However," Karid continued, "these people are going into this battle on my strategy. If something goes wrong it's on my head."

Yoraed shook his head. "It's on our head, since we chose to use it."

Karid narrowed his eyes but then said, "Still, it is my strategy. I bear the weights of their deaths. If any."

"We can't," said Yoraed. "The soldiers would fight easier if you're not there. They won’t trust you and they'll be watching for me. None of us can trust you. I mean you just attacked my father in there Nivarn."

Karid winced slightly. "That was ill-advised," he said.

"Ill-advised?!" asked Yoraed and now he was angry. "You could have killed him if you wanted. Killed him with us a few feet away. If you really meant it he'd have been dead before we knew it. And just because you didn't doesn't mean you don't intenD to." He glared aT Karid and continued, "I want to trust you Nivarn, but I can't, not as the prince of this country. Golboroth's suffered enough from deception." 

Karid quickly filed away that bit of information. Yoraed continued to stalk down the corridor. Karid walked calmly next to him and said "While you're at it you might want to say everything you wanted to say to me during court too." Yoraed glanced at him, weighed his words, and then apparently decided to take him up on his offer.

"And court! I tell you to do one thing! One thing! And what do you do?!"

"I don't do it?" Karid suggested.

"You don’t do it!" said Yoraed throwing up his hands. "How hard is it to bow?"

"Not hard," said Karid, “But the other felt more natural to me."

"It's not about what feels natural Nivarn! You're supposed to do what protocol dictates." Yoraed replied almost scathingly.

Karid shrugged. "Well," he said, "I didn't get my head bitten off."

"You should have," Yoraed told him. "And what did you do to the court?! I mean Irana said you were charming but I didn't actually believe it."

"Serves you right," said Karid, "If you had believed in my charm, you wouldn’t have been so surprised." Yoraed gave him a look and Karid had to smile at it even if it didn't make Yoraed's look get any better. "Actually, I didn't know how that even worked," he admitted.

Yoraed stared at him for a moment and then shook his head. "Neither do I," he said. Then he shook his head again. "I can't believe you told my father that you were like a newborn babe." Karid laughed at that and saw that despite his earlier anger, Yoraed was trying not to laugh. 

"Why not," said Karid, "He does have a point."

"I think Nivarn," said Yoraed, "That anyone who has just seen you, knows that you are no newborn babe."

"With this hair, most likely," said Karid.

Yoraed gave an incredulous sigh, "Please don't tell me you're still fussing about the hair."

"I am still fussing about the hair," Karid told him. Yoraed rolled his eyes in disgust and said, "I changed my mind. You're a babe after all. Just one who doesn't look it."

Karid laughed. "Alright, " he said lazily. Yoraed glared at him and Karid grinned back at him then changed the subject. "You think we can come up with a solution to cover these up without me wearing long sleeved tunics all the time? They're far too warm."

"Hmm," said Yoraed, “I can’t argue with you there. I'll think up something." Karid nodded and by then they had returned to the healing rooms.

Karid stopped walking and turned to face Yoraed, forcing him to stop. He looked at Karid frowning slightly but waited for him to speak. "You have my word Prince," Karid said softly but solemnly, "That I will not hurt you, your family or harm your kingdom." Yoraed took a breath and then said, "But how can I be sure that you'll keep it in the event that you do remember?"

"I believe that I will remember all that happens now and that even if I was sent to harm you, I will not do so because I have given you my word here. I do not break my word." Yoraed considered and then nodded, accepting it, even though Karid knew he would not hold it as unbreakable.

"Very well," he said and turned to go. 

"Prince," Karid called after him. He turned to face him. "Try not to get yourself killed," he told him. Yoraed flashed him a grin and left. And Karid went into the healing rooms to change out of the clothes, which he had discovered, were extremely uncomfortable.

 

Late that night, in Yoraed's study, his inner circle gathered. These were the people who worked exclusively under his command and would help him run the kingdom when he took over from his father. They were all very good friends and in the case of one, family. When he walked in, they were all already sitting around his table there. Irana, Dirida, Jenid, Arlad, Nraed, Inrid and Kaden were all spread out around the table's circumference. He chose a random seat and sat and leaned forward onto the table.

"Alright," he said, "Where should we start?"

"Well, the general, consensus from this morning is that Nivarn has definitely spoken to kings before and knows how to act in their presence. Although, as we have seen, he prefers to do it on his own terms," said Irana, "Also as, Nraed pointed out, he can play a court to his advantage, as we all saw." Yoraed nodded.

"He did say though," he informed them, "that he didn't expect it to work. But he did know what he was doing."  The others digested that bit of information. Then Yoraed turned to Nraed and said, "Nraed?"

Nraed leaned back in his seat. "There was a lot of chatter from the court," he said, "Most of them were very surprised at his level of civility and most were slightly enraged, due embarrassment, about the 'savage' comment." Nraed smiled a little at that, as did the others. "There was still a lot of talk about his appearance and also the way he moved. The way he entered the court unnerved some of them. They find the tattoos barbaric but they're having a hard time reconciling it with the way he talked. Almost all agree that he is charming and strangely cultured. Those that don't think so, believe he is a snake in the grass. The rest of the court were starting to look at him as more exotic than savage, by the time I left. Some were even lamenting about the fact that he couldn't remember anything, to tell them about his country." 

Yoraed lifted an eyebrow and said, "Well that happened fast," he commented. 

"I think it was the smile that did it," said Nraed, "It appears that he can put at ease, as easily as he can terrify. Which, I, for one, find very terrifying."  Yoraed and the others grimaced, absorbing the implications of that. "However there was a lot of bickering and arguing before that conclusion was formed, so it was not a status easily won. Still, quicker than usual. But they are still wary. Especially those who don't trust him." Nraed finished. Yoraed nodded and then turned to Irana. 

"News filtered down to lower city pretty quickly. Most had already seen him, from the walks in the market. They don't trust him, but they do admire him after the drinking of Seraday's wine. They are pleased that he is staying. They prefer him here, where they can keep an eye on him," she said. Yoraed nodded again silently and turned to Jenid.

"No leads on the insignia on the pommel of the sword, " he said, "However I did get a lead on the blue tattoos on his arms, the ones he always keeps covered if he can."  At that Yoraed sat up straight in surprise, as did the others. "My source is a traveler, within this side of the mountains. He says he has seen, by chance, those tattoos before, on other people. But none of the other tattoos. He says that those tattoos, the blue ones, are usually covered. The people with them, hardly let them show, and they don't tell where they got them from. He also told me that the people who wear those tattoos are not people that anyone tangles with. He says they're dangerous. But more often than not, they're good people. Dangerous people, but generally good people. He's never known the ones he has seen to be dishonorable."

"You know this source to be reliable?" asked Yoraed.

Jenid nodded. "He is Golboroth born, if that helps anything," he said.

Yoraed nodded. "Arlad?" he then said softly.

Arlad grimaced and said, "Do I need to state what I think?" in a very brusque voice. This raised eyebrows and the others turned to face Yoraed who had winced slightly.

"He, uh, he could have killed the king today, in his study. He had his hand on his throat before we could even cross the distance and before my father could grab his hand." There was a collective sucking in of breath. Yoraed raised a hand to forestall questions. "It was his way of telling us that we should be more careful. He later admitted that it was ill-advised. I may have lost my temper at that moment." The others let out the breath they had been holding.

"He was fast," said Arlad, "and I think he can be faster still. He still hasn't regained the muscle that he lost while ill." Yoraed sighed and said, "He gave me his word that he will not harm my family and I and my kingdom, even if, if he remembers, he was sent to do so."

"And what will you do with that?" Irana asked.

Yoraed shrugged, "I cannot hold him to it. I'm not sure if, if he remembers, that he will remember all the time he experienced, while he had forgotten. Still, it is nice to have his word on it."

"What does the King say on the subject?" asked Dirida. "He thinks he is extraordinarily dangerous. But prefers to keep him close. He asked him to decide on a strategy for the attacks on the border and bridge and Nivarn did it. He figured out the attackers weren't human very quickly. He also figured out it was the wrong map. Father had given him a fake map," he said by way of explanation, "He is also clearly military trained. He had some, how should I say it? Some expressions? War rules? He doesn't know where they come from. He also stated that to him, the Viscecrals and Lodecates, were thought to be myths. Which, is strange," Yoraed said. The others digested that for a moment.  TheN Yoraed turned to Inrid.

Inrid sighed. "The puzzle only gets deeper," he said. He opened a file and spread the contents for the others to see. Nivarn looks to be around 22 years old. He has many scars. The tattoos he has are very well done. Getting rid of them will be very difficult. I believe they were meant to stay. The very unsettling results came when we tested his blood. We tested samples of blood from before he received treatment and from after he received treatment. When we tested the blood prior to treatment for poison, the results came back positive, as we expected. What we didn't expect were the results when we tested for the poison's identity. Almost all we tested for, came back positive, not just the test for belansk."

"What!" said Yoraed, almost getting out of his chair. "That can't be! That would mean...I mean...He should be dead." The others nodded their agreement, apparently still in shock. 

"None of them were in the amount as belansk," said Inrid, "However the blood after treatment only yielded little amounts of poison. However it was still too much for a person to live comfortably. And yet, Nivarn recovered faster than he was expected to. He also threw off the effects of alcohol far too fast to be normal. The poison still in his bloodstream, also did not impede the speed at which his wounds healed. In physique, he is not very unusual. He is very well muscled though and there are places where you can see where the armor he wore chafed him. His back is particularly muscular. I have a feeling that that has something to do with the bow he came in with. "

Arlad nodded, "Makes sense," he said, "A long bow uses the muscles in your back more than the ones in your arms. The bow he has isn't quite a long bow, but it most likely would require the use of the same muscles."

"Also of interest," said Inrid, "is the tiny amounts of glass shards we found, stuck in some of the wounds, mostly in the ones in his upper arms. We didn't find the source of the glass though."

Yoraed blinked. "That's unusual," he said. 

"An understatement cousin," said Nraed. Yoraed grinned at him and he smiled back. 

"Oh," said Inrid, "One last thing, which I believe has already been explained by Jenid's information and Nivarn's behavior. That simply the areas of his arms with the blue tattoos are much lighter in colour. He obviously covers them up." Yoraed nodded and Jenid leaned back and stretched.  

"A pretty puzzle we've got," said Jenid. 

Arlad snorted and Yoraed said, "Arlad, and I will be riding out to deal with the Viscecrals and Lodecates. Kaden will keep an eye out for Nivarn. The rest of you, I trust, will monitor the situation. Please try to keep out of the way of my father's people. You know how the older ones fuss. And they're already very touchy about Nivarn. Father knows you're going to be out and about but stay discreet."  The others nodded and one by one they stood and left.

Nraed stayed behind and watched his cousin. Yoraed stayed silent, staring off into the far corner of the room.  Then Nraed spoke, "You trust him for some reason," he stated.

"I trust him for some reason," Yoraed agreed. 

"Even when you should be the most suspicious of him, you trust him."

"Even when I should be the most suspicious, I trust him." Yoraed turned to look at Nraed. "What is wrong with me?!" he asked, looking so hopelessly confused Nraed had to laugh.

"Nothing, I think," he said. Yoraed gave him a disbelieving look. Nraed laughed some more and then settled down to say, "I think your instincts have recognized something you haven't consciously. And whatever it is, it's telling you to trust him."

"What do you think?"Yoraed asked. 

Nraed shrugged, "I haven't actually met him. I can't tell. And realistically, I can't meet him without rousing suspicion. I usually stay in the court circles, playing diplomat."

"Hmmm," said Yoraed thoughtfully, "We should arrange something. I'd like your opinion on this."

Nraed shrugged again, "I'll think of something, while you're gone."

"Thank you," said Yoraed and Nraed stood to leave and Yoraed stood with him.

"Take care of yourself cousin," said Nraed, "I don't want to have to lead this kingdom." Yoraed laughed and the two heirs to the throne left the room. 

 

 

9: Chapter 9

A week after Yoraed's departure, close to dusk, one of Irana's informants came with a message from Kaden, saying that they had lost Nivarn. Needless to say, the guards were frantic. Irana nodded and sent the informant off. He quickly disappeared from sight. Irana stayed where she was, in one of the palace's corridors, and thought. Then she made her way up to one of the spires in the northern side of the castle. She found him on the very top, leaning on the banister with the wind whipping up his hair, staring in the direction Yoraed's troops had taken, toward the border. 

"Humph," she said, "The castle's in a fine uproar over you," she told him.

"I know" he said, turning to grin at her, "It's nice to see what would have happened, if I did leave suddenly. It's remarkably efficient, actually. Very impressive. You should tell them to panic less though."

"I’ll pass the message on," Irana said dryly, " Should I even ask how you got up here without anyone noticing?"  He just smiled and turned back to staring out into the distance. Irana joined him on the balcony. She leaned out and then shouted to a solider walking below. The man looked up and Irana pointed to Karid next to her. He understood and ran off to pass on the message. Then she leaned back and looked out with Karid.

After a while she asked him, "Do you think we'll see the fires from here?"  He shifted and answered, never taking his eyes off the horizon.

"If they reached there on schedule and everything works, then yes, I think we'll see them." It was an hour later, and night had fallen,, before they saw the small red glow, far on the horizon.  "Well," said Karid to her, "Lets hope the land stays good for them despite the burning and everything works out the way it should." Then he offered her his arm. She took it and they went down the spire. At the bottom they found many guards. Karid gracefully passed Irana over to one of them and went off to his room, in the Healing Rooms, apparently unaffected by the guards escorting him.

Irana watched him for a moment, intrigued by his behavior and said to the guard, whose arm she was now holding and who also happened, by chance and luck, to be Kaden,  "He really is a puzzle, is he not?"

Kaden shrugged and then said, "Apparently that puzzle can sneak around very well. I lost him in less than a minute. We'll be doubling the guard on that level."

Irana nodded her approval and Kaden said to her, "May I escort you to your residence mi lady?"

She smiled at her friend, knowing well enough when he was teasing her, and said "It would my great honour to be escorted by one of the esteemed guard."

"Oh no lady," he said as he began to lead her away, "the pleasure is all mine to be escorting one so esteemed as you."  Irana laughed and so chattering, he brought he safely to her house and left her inside. Then he quickly slipped away to join the guard at the healing rooms. He'd keep a closer eye on Nivarn, this time. 
A few days after the fire had been lit in the fields of Golboroth, there came word of the army crossing over on their way to the bridge. The message sent that that part of the plan was a success and although there were casualties, there were not as many as they had feared. There were no deaths. The very worst casualties would reach the healing rooms in a day or two. Healers however rode out to the coming train of wounded, to begin treating them.

At this Karid very politely asked the guards at his level if he could go up to the tower and watch the passing soldiers. They hesitated but then finally nodded and he was escorted to the tower. He had just reached the entrance when Irana came up. She smiled at him and indicated that he precede her. Karid smiled back and said, "I do believe it is ladies first." He swept his arm to indicate she go up and waited for her.

She looked at him and then registered the tenseness of the soldiers around them and said, "Perhaps we should go up together. After all you are a guest and I would be a poor host according to our customs to let you come after me."

"Well, I will not let you be a poor host, nor will I be a poor guest," he said in return and held out his arm. She took it and they went up together.
Once at the top they watched the far away column of dust, that was all they could see of the traveling men. They watched in silence for a few moments and then Irana spoke.

"I don't think your guards quite know what to make of you."

Karid smiled. "Is that why they sent for you when I asked to come here?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Of course," he continued, "your informant got there before the guard's messenger got there."

She looked at him sharply, surprised, then shook her head and returned to looking at the column of dust. "I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

"It would actually be more satisfying if you were," he informed her.

She laughed and shook her head. Karid simply smiled and they continued to watch the column of dust. After a while they went down and Karid handed Irana of to one of the guards again and returned to his room.

There he lay on his bed and carefully thought over everything he had learnt from watch the army march past and planned his next steps. Karid waited a day.

It was sometime after midnight, the next day, when he slipped past his guards and Irana's spies and made his way to the armory in the barracks. Once inside he paused. First, armor. He headed for the metal armor and then stopped. No, he needed leather armor, in case he fell into the river. He got the leather armor and let his brain take over in putting it on. Then he set off to arm himself. He found the swords and inspected them. He found none to his liking. Sighing, he chose the one the he deemed the best out of the rest. He found several daggers and a long knife and strapped those on with the sheaths they came in. Then he looked around and found the bow racks. He stared at them critically. He wasn't sure if he could use a bow. Finally he went over and picked up one and closed his eyes, trying to feel if he knew the weapon. Yes, his brain answered and he knew it was true from the way the weapon fit into his hand. Yes he had used a bow before. So he would take one of those as well. He studied the bows in the racks and finally chose a long bow. Then he picked up several full quivers and then made his way to the kitchens where he snitched provisions and then after some hair raising moments where he almost got caught, he made it into the stables and then had to sneak the horse out of the city, without getting caught, which, as it turned out, was not only quite interesting, it also appeared that it was something he had done before as he did it far easier than he thought he would. Once he was away far enough, he mounted the horse and galloped away in the direction the army had gone.

Two hours after Karid had left the castle, Irana was awakened by a frantic message from another of her informants saying that Nivarn was gone and that Kaden had gone after him. She sighed and sent the informant to the King and sent another message to Nraed. Oh for the love of good-land, she thought.
 

10: Chapter 10

It took a little more than a week to reach the bridge where the next set of soldiers was defending Golboroth from the Viscecrals. Yoraed and the main party arrived three hours before sundown. According to the reports, the Viscecrals preferred to attack at night, where the poor light didn't bother them and made it easier for their attacks to succeed. The problem with this whole situation was that it was along a river. If they just had to hold the bridge alone it would have been easy, but their enemy was in the water. Thus they had to range themselves along the length of the bend of river, which dipped towards Golboroth before hurrying away. Not only that, but the riverbank was bordered by trees which hindered them and helped the Vicecrals. Yoraed hated the situation. Still, they had a plan, albeit one that had required the extra men with which they had come.

Yoraed glanced at the sun which was quietly slipping down the horizon, while he and the soldiers made camp, and arranged things according to plan for that night. There wasn't much time left. Arlad came up to him and gestured him toward the council tent. Yoraed nodded and followed him. Once inside, he exchanged greeting with the officers of the camp there. Then together, they all, figured pout the most strategic positions to place the oil and tar, with the camp generals pointing out important details, gained from experience of fighting the Viscecrals. The aim as not only to drive away the Viscecrals but to do it in such a way as to drive them away for good as well as kill as many of them as they could. To do that, they had to wait for night, where the Viscecrals which lived on the opposite side of the bank, also came into the water to attack. They could then pour the oil and tar into the water and set it afire, thus killing and harming a lot of them. the problem, however, was getting the barrels of oil and tar close to the river and being able to pour them into the river, without them being pulled into the river, unopened, by the Viscecrals, who had at their disposal, long, muscular tentacles, which they often used to pull soldiers into the water, where they most likely drowned and died and were probably eaten.

The plan which they eventually came up with was rather painfully simple. There were groups with the barrels situated in equal distances along the river bend. They would be closest to the river, but would be hidden by thin screens of brush. The rest of the soldiers would draw out the Viscecrals by shooting them with arrows, (consequently the only safe way to do battle with the Viscecrals, But even so, not quite so safe) and simultaneously, draw their attention away for the barrel groups. The barrel groups would then pour the oil and tar into the river at the signal and then give the signal to light. Yoraed, against the majority of protests, volunteered to be with one of the barrel groups. Arlad tried hard to dissuade him but Yoraed refused to be situated anywhere else, siting the fact that the bow wasn't his best weapon as reason and justification. Finally after much protest, and five minute heart to heart talk, Arlad agreed to allow Yoraed to be with one of the barrel groups, but he was accompanying him. Yoraed agreed. By that time, the sun was just saying goodbye and the barrels were being moved into position. By the time full dark fell, everything was in position and Yoraed was crouched behind a brush shield, in full armor, waiting for the Viscecrals to make the first move.

Yoraed's legs were just beginning to cramp when he saw the first ripple on the surface of the river, that wasn't natural. He watched as the little bump of water moved from the center of the river towards them. It splashed gently against their side of the bank followed by many smaller ripples. Then the whole river settled back down and smoothed over. There was an awkward pause while everyone waited for something more to happen. Then the river exploded.

Several long, white, muscular tentacles shot out of the river, just over Yoraed's head, and into the trees behind them. The tentacles gripped two of the archers situated there and pulled them into the river. Yoraed rolled out of the way as more tentacles shot out of the water. Orders were shouted for men to shoot. Arrows filled the air and lanced into the water. There was screaming and shouting everywhere as men were pulled into the river, orders shouted and the Vicecrals shrieking as they were shot.

More tentacles shot out the water and into the trees. Yoraed drew his sword but before he could hack at them, the tentacles tightened and heaved and a Viscecral launched itself out of the water and straight into the line of men behind them. Bows dropped and swords flashed out of sheaths, as men tried to bring the Viscecral down. Yoraed was about to help them, when Arlad jerked on his arm and he remembered that they had something more important to do. He gritted his teeth and nodded. The men behind must hold the line.

All along the bend, he could hear the clash of weapons as men struggled to keep the Viscecrals back, even as more of them came from the next bank, sliding into the water. He still heard orders to shoot coming from somewhere but much fewer arrows were coming now. A lot of the archers had be pulled or even shaken out of the trees, as well as distracted by the Viscecrals which had slingshotted themselves onto their side of the bank. A tentacle shot past Yoraed's face and he sliced it off, causing the rest to be withdrawn with a furious squeal. He sliced another and was turning to hack at a next one, when someone stumbled against him, knocking him on his back and causing him to fall through the bush and land with his head hanging off the edge of the bank. He got a glimpse of a narrow, fishbelly-pale face, a razor filled mouth, and large, black eyes and a clawed hand rising from the depths. He rolled and stabbed down with his sword. The viscecral squealed and half rose from the water thrashing and whipping its tentacles around. Yoraed shielded his face and braced himself to get hit from something. But he was gripped from behind and yanked back. He spun to see Arlad's face. Arlad nodded at him and he nodded back. Yoraed spun back toward the river and was greeted with a scene of chaos.

The river, ink black at night, was filled with thrashing figures, most of them white, some of them soldiers. More viscecrals were crawling into the river from the opposite bank and some were crawling onto their side of the bank. All around them solders were engaged with the viscecrals that had come onto their banks, and with the tentacles flaying out of the water. Torches had been lit all around them and the remaining archers were sending flaming arrows into whichever viscecrals they got a good shot at. Several of the soldiers which had made up their barrel group were gone. Just then, Yoraed caught sight of a flaming arrow making its way straight up in the sky.

"The signal!" called Arlad. Yoraed nodded and they all started toward the pile of barrels. Just then a tentacle shot out of the river and straight into the pile. The stack seemed to explode. Yoraed was kicked back by a flying barrel as was the rest of the barrel group. He landed hard on his back, with the barrel on top of him, partially covered with oil and not a breath of air in his body. His ears rung.

 

Karid could see the frantic lights of the torches, long before he could hear the battle. He cursed and spurred his horse on faster. He had almost reached the river when he saw a single flaming arrow rise high up into the night sky. He followed it with his eyes for a brief moment and almost got hit by the man flying at him. He just managed to duck in time. He rode into the camp, slid of his horse and drew his borrowed sword almost all in one motion. Something wet and slimy and white flew past him. He sliced down on it without thinking. A piece of writhing tentacle lay on the ground. Karid wrinkled his face and then moved forward into the chaotic dance of battle.

He joined the soldiers who were fighting a viscecral which had come up onto their side of the bank and was making a mess of their lines as it failed its tentacles about with vicious accuracy, whist it bit and clawed people with its teeth and claws on its hands and feet. Karid dodged a tentacle and sliced at it. He missed and the tentacle gripped onto the man besides him and squeezed until his metal breastplate dented and bent inward into him. Karid sliced it off this time, but it was too late. Karid hissed slightly as the man just dropped to the floor and then moved towards the viscecral letting his instincts take over. Spinning and ducking, he dodged the rest of the tentacles until he was able to reach the main body and impaled the viscecral. He yanked his sword out and the body flopped to the ground. He paid it no mind. Instead he scanned the bank for the barrels. Where were they? he thought. he knew that the arrow he had seen was a signal, most likely meant to release the oil but he couldn't see any oil on the river, by the light of the torches, knowing that the oil would catch the light. He both heard and saw the order to light up the oil and tar. Far on either side of them, fire began to rage on the surface of the water, turning the whole scene a flickering , blood red. But the water in front of him did not alight.

He finally found the barrel stack. Or where the barrel stack was. He ran towards it, even as his mind took in the details. Most of the barrels were broken, some were missing, about eight appeared to be intact. A viscecral was laying waste to the area around the stack and was only barely held in check by a group of soldiers, one of which was Arlad. He did not see Yoraed. He spotted him in the next second, slicing the top of a barrel off and dumping its contents into the water. Karid reached where the stack was and kicked the barrels which were intact towards the water, ducking viscecral tentacles all the while. When the first of the barrels reached the river, Karid sliced the top off and let it roll into the river. He repeated the action for the second, and was about to do the same for the third when an increase in the pitch of the viscecrals caused him to look up. Ever since the oil and tar had been set afire, the air had been filled with the screams and squeals of pain and outrage of the viscecrals but this, this was different. Karid was greeted by the sight of a mass convergence of viscecrals to the only non-burning part of the river. He began rolling and slicing off the tops of the barrels faster and noticed Yoraed, doing the same. He was about to slice the top off the fifth barrel when a tentacle wrapped around his wrist and squeezed hard and yanked. Karid almost lost his footing on the oily terrain but managed to not fall. Instead he dropped his sword and caught it with his left hand and sliced the tentacle off. The sudden loss of tension on the part of the viscecral whilst he was still tugging backward was what made him lose his balance. He fell hard but scrambled back up to his feet just in time for a viscecral to launch out of the water at him. It went down with a flaming arrow in its chest. Karid turned his head to see and archer standing a little ways behind him fitting another flaming arrow into his bow. Karid looked around, then grabbed one of the broken barrels, that still had oil in it and flung it into the air. Then he snatched the arrow from the surprised archer and flung it like a dart at the barrel. The arrow met the barrel in midair and ignited the oil. The barrel plunged down into the water and then exploded back to the surface, with the flaming oil spreading out from it. It was one of the most beautiful things Karid had ever seen. But he just as quickly realized that they may not have enough oil to cover the gap in the river. They would need every barrel left. He turned to get the rest of the barrels just in time to see a viscecral tentacle wrap around the last barrel and lift it into the air. At the same time he was aware of Arlad crying out "Prince!" and saw Yoraed flying through the air and land in the river.

Time seemed to slow and stop for a moment for Karid and then his body kicked into gear and he was moving faster than he knew he could. He ran toward the barrel and kicked off at the edge of the bank. He somersaulted through the air and slashed at the barrel, praying he wouldn't miss and that he wouldn't cut of something vital instead. He felt his sword go through the wood of the barrel and then he twisted again in the air and fell face down with his sword pointing downwards. He felt it impale something and then he was crashing into the already churning water.

For a second he felt like he had when he was burning with fever from the poison; it was dark and he was drifting. Then he kicked furiously and broke surface. He slashed wildly at things in the water, panicking, before training kicked in. Take a deep breath, allow yourself to sink, move your legs to keep from sinking fast, feel the rush of the water to determine where the next attack is coming from, conserve your strength for pushing off the river bed, don't panic, find the way to the bank, swim when there is time and space to do so. Karid slashed, allowed himself to sink, while churning his legs to keep him from sinking fast. He felt the rush of water and blocked an attack. And another and another. There was a moment of relief and Karid kicked and swam to the surface. He gulped air and looked around wildly for Yoraed. Fire danced on the surface, making his eyes and throat burn and blinding him with the glare. He finally spotted him coming up for air before he was yanked under. Karid went under water and swam like crazy in his direction thanking his foresight to wear leather armor. Karid surfaced close to Yoraed just as Yoraed came up again just in time for a viscecral to come up behind him. Karid threw his sword. It went through the viscecral and Karid grabbed Yoraed and took his sword. He glanced around at the still mostly unlit part of the river. The viscecrals were disturbing the water so that the fire didn't get a chance to spread. He flung Yoraed's sword on the bank with their soldiers, catching the attention of some archers who had been occupied shooting the viscecrals on land. When they saw him, he yelled, "Light it up!" and then ducked up the water pulling Yoraed under with him.

Once under, he pulled the long knife from his boot and swam as hard as he could to the back, while hacking and slashing. Yoraed tried to help, but his armor was weighing him down too much. The oil on the surface caught afire, illuminating the water below, making it easier for Karid to see what was attacking him. It however made things more dangerous because arrows were now peppering the water. Karid thought he would never reach the bank.

 

Arlad stood staring frantically at the water waiting for the prince and Nivarn, yes it had been Nivarn, to reappear. Just when he thought that all was lost and was wondering whether he should go out in a heroic end rather than report the prince's death to the King, a hand, bearing a long knife came up at the river edge. The hand jabbed the knife down into the earth and Karid came up gasping. Arlad ran over to him and reached in time to pull the gasping but clearly alive prince, onto the bank.

 

Karid hauled himself onto the bank. He lay on his back gasping for a few moments before a viscecral loomed over him. He stabbed it with his knife and sat up fast. The viscecrals, enraged, had decided to become more vicious. They attacked land like children stampeding for the last cookie. In others words, it was terrifying.

 

Arlad dragged Yoraed away and turned back in time to see Karid roll forward and kick one of the broken, half-empty barrels, along the bank. The barrel rolled, leaving a trail of oil behind it, which Karid ignited with a lighting piece of something. The oil flared up just as the majority of the viscecrals hit the bank forming a burning shield for the soldiers. Then he turned and came towards them. He brushed past them and disappeared into the trees.

Yoraed stared after Karid for half a moment in amazement, wondering if he was running, and then turned back to the fight ahead of him. Some of the viscecrals were sending their tentacles through the fire and grabbing soldiers. Yoraed gripped his sword, which he had retrieved, and prepared himself to strike the next viscecral which came up along his part of the ragged line, which the soldiers had formed. Just then a viscecral came up and threw half its body onto the bank, outing the thin stream of fire, protecting them. It sent out tentacles towards them, but before they could reach, Yoraed heard a whistling sound from behind him and an arrow hit the viscecral into the chest, burying deep. Another flew and hit it in the eye. The viscecral, screamed and slid back into the water.

Yoraed and about half the line turned to see who it was. They were greeted by the sight of Karid already nocking another arrow into a long bow. He had a quiver on his back and two more lying on the ground beside him, at his feet. And his face was like stone. A fact made all the more apparent by the shifting firelight which caught all the hard edges of his face and sent his eyes into shadow. He fired rapidly into the river, the bow singing in his hands. When the quiver was empty, he shrugged it off and slung a full one on. The men, encouraged, attacked the viscecrals and Karid and the other archers, covered them. Yoraed went into the fray and to his surprise found himself fighting back to back with Kaden.

"What are you doing here?" Yoraed gasped.

Kaden blocked an attack before he replied, "I followed him here,"

"Nivarn?"

"Who else?" asked Kaden.

They paused for a moment as there was a break in the fighting and watched Karid. He was on his third quiver now, and was firing seamlessly, almost seeming to do so without aiming because he almost never paused. And he didn't miss.

Then they turned back to the battle and began to hack away. But the viscecrals began to retreat. Eventually they left their side of the river and swam back over the river to the next side where the climbed onto the land and disappeared into the bushes when they could.

Soon it was only the archers firing but eventually it was only Karid who was firing. He had apparently procured more arrows from somewhere but those were fast running out.

Yoraed stood and watched him. He had never seen anyone work a long bow like Karid. His form was perfect and the bow sung happily for him, hardly seeming to recoil in his hand, although Yoraed knew from experience that a long bow's recoil was awful. Not only that but he seemed to be able to make it shoot any distance. When the viscecrals had made it to the other bank, he had simply tilted the bow up and continued shooting them on the other side, making distances that even the other long bow users couldn't make.

He finally stopped when the arrows ran out. He lowered the bow and pulled his arms back to give his back a rest, frowning while he did so.

"He's not accustomed to tiring with shooting so fast," said Kaden.

Yoraed turned to look at him, puzzled.

"That's why he's frowning," elaborated Kaden, "I've seen that exact look on older soldiers when they tire faster than they used too."

"If he's not accustomed to tiring after shooting like that, then how long could he have gone on before he was poisoned?" asked Yoraed contemplatively.

"I'd say as long as he wanted to" answered Kaden.

But Yoraed didn't answer because at that moment, Karid turned to him and looked at him. Yoraed looked back at him, feeling suddenly as if he had been punched in the gut because the person who was staring at him, was no one he knew, not really. He had glimpsed him when he had smiled at him and Inrid, that night but he was not smiling now. And what was showing through was the side of that person, that man graven from stone, that could fight and win a war. Then Karid looked away and disappeared into the trees once more. Yoraed took a deep breath and heard Kaden do the same.

"Who," said Kaden shakily, "was that?"

"Nivarn," said Yoraed simply.

"No," said Kaden, "that was not Nivarn. That was who he was."

"Yes," agreed Yoraed, "But since we have no other name, that is Nivarn."

11: Chapter 11

The whole camp went around, setting up defenses in case of a second attack, and fixing what could be fixed and most importantly, caring for the wounded. Karid leaned against a tree, arms folded, watching the proceedings. The men, who had initially been glad of him in the skirmish, were now downright wary of him. Karid didn't blame them, they were just doing their jobs. And at the moment he knew he didn't look very approachable. He didn't feel very approachable either. There was a harsh, roiling, distaste inside of him. It churned and bubbled through him. He knew it came from the battle, but he didn't know why the battle had stirred this brand of distaste and dislike inside of him. It was the kind of distaste that came from doing and seeing a thing far too much. Like a bad taste in the back of one's mouth, that just wouldn't go away, no matter how much you swallowed. Karid fought with it, trying to suppress it. It was not helping him or anyone else around him.

Not too far away from him, on a log, sat Yoraed. Which, didn't actually help the situation, seeing as how that made the soldiers more wary. Several healers approached Karid warily, but he shook his head. He wasn't really wounded. They were needed for patients in far more dire straits. Besides, it didn't feel right to be treated before everyone else had. Karid didn't know why he felt like that, but he did.

Several healers also approached the prince but he waved them off, sending them to treat the more wounded persons. Karid had suspected that he would have been treating the wounded himself if he hadn't been ready to fall over. The dip in river hadn't done him good. Nor anything else that had happened in the battle.

One of the healers protested, "Sire! It would do no one any good if you were to survive the battle and then die of untreated wounds!"

But Yoraed simply gave the man a wan smile and shook his head and gave him as stern a point away as he could manage. The healer left reluctantly. As soon as his back was turned, Yoraed swayed on his log seat.

Karid sighed and pushed off from his tree and went and steadied him gently. Instantly, the soldiers around him went into hyperawareness. Yoraed gave him an irritated look. The soldiers around them relaxed as the guard who had followed Karid all the way from the castle approached then and came to a stop a few feet away.

"The healer is right you know," Karid told Yoraed, "And you're swaying in your seat. You should at least get those wounds stitched up."

Yoraed frowned at him over his shoulder. "There are soldiers who need that healer more than I do. And don't try to tell me that is not so," he said sharply. Karid guessed it was something that had happened many times before.

He sighed. "Hey!" he called to the healer who had been lingering in limbo for the entirety of their conversation. "Give me what I need to clean and stitch those wounds." He got up and went up to him and held out his hand.

The healer stared at him in shocked surprise for a few moments, then he made to look past Karid to Yoraed, but Karid shifted to block his view and fixed a piercing gaze on him. The healer handed over the supplies. Karid turned and went back to Yoraed who was staring at him incredulously. Karid ignored the heavy tension in the air coming from all around him and stooped down by Yoraed's side.

"I may not be a healer, Prince," he said quietly and gravely, “But I can stitch. And you can watch me to make sure I don't do anything wrong." Yoraed held his gaze for a moment, not daring more than that because the harsh look hadn't disappeared from his face,and then nodded once, hearing the real message behind that line . The tension in the air lessened some. Karid reached for the wound on Yoraed's shoulder and then grimaced as the armour and ripped up tunic hampered him. He sat back on his heels and unbuckled the armour and pulled the tunic off, leaving him bare chested and thus unhampered. He tried to ignore the stares at his scars and mostly at the tattoo sprawled across his right shoulder and collar bone.

He carefully began cleaning the cut on Yoraed's shoulder which went half way down to his elbow. Karid had no idea when he had gotten it. Yoraed watched him for a moment and then glanced at his men and said softly, and yes, angrily, "You are not supposed to be here."

"And you're supposed to be dead," Karid retorted flatly. Yoraed shut his mouth at that. He stayed silent for most of the tending, with only occasional hisses of pain when Karid started to stitch. But when he was halfway through he said, half surprised, half grudgingly, looking at the line of stitches down his arm:

"You stitch very neatly." He looked down at Karid's many scars and said wryly, "You must have had practice."

Karid followed his gaze, looked back at him and said dryly, "You think?"

For some reason the dry, humorless and extremely sarcastic comment broke Yoraed's anger and Karid's weird feeling of distaste.

Yoraed gave him a smile and then turned it into a look. "Someone else could have stitched them," he said in defense.

Karid looked down at them and then said, "I think some are done by me and some are done by others. There are different stitch patterns."

"Ahh," said Yoraed, "Although I can't imagine you ever letting somebody close enough to stitch you."

Karid grinned and said, "I probably was unconscious."

"Like how you were when Inrid stitched you up?" Yoraed said dryly.

"Just so," said Karid cheerfully. He carefully cut the string on the last stitch and moved to the back of Yoraed where he was sporting a large slice along his left shoulder blade. Karid mentally filed away the fact that Yoraed's defense was weaker on his left side. Instantly the soldier who had been standing patiently behind them the entire time stepped forward to where he could see what Karid was doing. Karid shifted to allow him to get a better view and proceeded to cut off Yoraed's tunic to get at the wound.

"How did you even get these wounds," he asked, "Weren't you wearing armour?"

"I had Arlad take mine off after he dragged me away from the river," Yoraed replied, "I had no wish for a repeat of that incident while I was wearing metal armour. I had no wish for a repeat at all."

Karid snorted. "At least in that we are in agreement, Prince."

He felt rather than saw Yoraed's smile. Then he felt him grow serious again.

"But you came in leather amour, when Ii know you had access to meal armour. Why?"

Why Karid didn't answer him he said quietly, "You were trained to fight in water weren't you? Because you went in there, into the river, and came out with barely a scratch. At least I think so. I did not see any major wounds on you. And I know it is only by chance that I lasted as long as I did. But it was no chance for you, was it?"

Karid took in a deep breath and let it out silently before answering, quietly: "No. I was trained."

He could practically feel the weight of the questions both Yoraed and the solider wanted to ask, fall on him. It was a lot of questions. Finally Yoraed asked just one.

"Why would someone be trained to fight in water?"

Karid shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I didn't even know until I went into the water. It only kicked in then."

Yoraed gave an exasperated sigh. Karid pulled harder than usually on the tread causing Yoraed to cry out. He twisted to glare at Karid, his eyes asking the reason for the obviously, purposeful tug.

"Be glad I was trained for that, Prince," Karid told him, "Or you would have been dead."

Yoraed turned back to allow Karid to finish stitching. "I am glad," he said, “but it makes me worry too."

"I think it would be pretty hard to strike a bargain with viscecrals," Karid commented lightly. Yoraed spun on the log so fast that Karid had to let go of the needle, before all the stitches pulled out. Similarly the soldier had stiffened at his comment.

Yoraed opened his mouth to speak but Karid bared his teeth at them in a smile. Not the wisest thing to do, he reflected internally, but he couldn't help it at the moment. The reaction was natural. Yoraed and the soldier startled back. "I'm not stupid Prince," he reminded Yoraed, knowing that he had been thinking that the entire battle could have been pre-arranged so that Yoraed would have been indebted to Karid for saving his life, thus drawing him closer to the prince and to Golboroth's society, and thus making it easier for him to get close to someone who might be his target.

"No," sighed Yoraed, "I know you're not." Privately Karid was hoping that that wasn't actually true, because it represented a level of conspiracy he didn't even want to consider.

"Too smart," commented the solider. Karid motioned Yoraed to turn back around telling him that he did have a needle hanging down his back and resumed stitching before he glanced back at the solider.

"And you are?" he asked him.

"Kaden," the solider told him.

"Ah. You were one of the guards outside my room right?" Kaden nodded.

"And what do you think of me?"

"That you're very dangerous," he said. Karid nodded, having expected that one. But then Kaden added, "And I think you know more of war than any one of us here. You know more than we do and right now, more than you know you do."

Karid tilted his head and studied him, wondering about his words and wondering why the soldier thought that that was important. Because he did think it was so important. Yoraed too was silent, apparently absorbing the soldier’s words. "And at sometimes," the soldier spoke up again, "the two of you all are the same."

"The same?" said Yoraed, "How?" Karid grunted in agreement as he finished stitch up Yoraed's back and came around to inspect the cut on Yoraed's forehead.

"Because the both of you were refusing treatment until everyone else was treated, even though neither of you said. The Prince I knew, because he always does and Nivarn because he's acting in exactly the same way. Albeit the healers listened to him more. And also because the Prince tries to get out of being treated by treating others, which is exactly what Nivarn is doing now."

Karid looked up at the soldier and grinned. "Ah bad-land," he said without any heat, "I've been discovered."

"Nivarn!" protested Yoraed.

Karid transferred the grin to him and then said seriously, "Be at peace Prince. One, I’m not very wounded and two, you are and hence need treatment far more than I do. And by the way this cut has splinters in it."

Yoraed rolled his eyes up in a futile attempt to see the cut over his right eye and said dryly, "Barrel."

"Barrel," agreed Karid. Kaden caught the attention of a healer who came over and extracted the splinters and then left Karid to stitch and bandage it.

After that was over Yoraed turned to Kaden and said, "We are not the same."

"I said sometimes Your Majesty," he replied and Karid snorted with laughter. Yoraed turned on him. "Now," he said sternly, "Where are you injured?" Karid looked down at himself and said, Mainly bruises and nicks as you can see, Jerisha. I don't need stitches anywhere. The worst injury I have right now is a sprain."

"A sprain?" asked Yoraed, "Where?"

"A small sprain," Karid stressed.

"Where?" asked Yoraed in a no nonsense voice.

"My right wrist," Karid said, “A viscecral grabbed it and squeezed."

Yoraed and Kaden stared at Karid for a long minute, long enough that Karid felt uncomfortable. Then Yoraed said slowly, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Your right wrist."

Karid nodded, suddenly wary of Yoraed's tone.

"When did this happen?"

Karid thought back. "Not too long before I jumped into the river after you," he said.

There was another pause and then Yoraed said with finality. "I'm going to kill you."

"Why?!" said Karid indignantly.

"Because you sprain your wrist, fight with it and then have the audacity to stitch me up without saying a word." Yoraed's voice held the soft thunder of a slighted healer.

"Fine thing to take offense for!" snapped Karid. But their impending argument was broken up by Kaden saying in an empty voice.

"You shot with it."

"What?" said Karid.

"You shot a long bow with a sprained wrist."

"Oh," said Karid looking down at his wrist, "Well that did make it a lot worse. But it doesn't actually hurt that much. It is a small sprain. "

Yoraed reached out and snagged Karid's wrist, completely ignoring his claims.

He applied pressure lightly, while noting the slight swelling on the wrist. He mentally cursed himself for not noticing earlier. Karid stayed still and allowed him to examine him. He called for bandages and carefully wrapped the wrist tightly. "You won't be using this for a week," he informed Karid.

"That's okay," Karid told him, "I’m ambidextrous."

Yoraed looked up at him, surprised and Karid said, "Not naturally though." Which Yoraed thought was meant to be reassuring but it just gave him one more thing to worry about and only deepened the mystery of Karid.

By then the light of false dawn, was beginning to show and so Yoraed let it go.

"Come on," he said, "You and I should get out these wet clothes. It makes no sense to treat all our injuries only to die of the cold."

Karid grinned. "And that there, Prince, is another thing we agree on." Yoraed sighed and held out his hands and Karid gripped one in his left hand and Kaden took another and they pulled him to his feet. Then they set off in search of dry clothes.

 

 

12: Chapter 12

They stayed for another three days, in case the viscecrals came back but the river stayed calm. Any viscecral which showed itself on the opposite bank was fired upon. Eventually they gave up. Like Karid had read in the myths, viscecrals liked clean water, and so fighting for a source of water that wasn't very clean, didn't appeal to them.

On the night of the third day Yoraed had his stitches out. The morning of the fourth day they left, they being a small escort of soldiers, the prince and Karid, and had a very uneventful trip back to the city, during which Yoraed complained consistently under his breath, about how was he supposed to be the leader of their armed forces if they kept sending him away from any skirmish if they could. They reached the city in about a week's time, at which Karid was confined to his room, again, until the King called for him. He waited a day, during which Inrid, took stock of all his injuries, inspected his wrist, which as far as Karid was concerned, wasn't so bad at all, Golboroth medicine having worked wonders, in his opinion. Still, things were pasted on it and the offending wrist was tightly bandaged. Inrid told him he wasn't allowed to use it for another week. Karid wasn't pleased but decided he wasn't going to risk the healer's wrath, especially since he was already mad at him for running off and fighting. Finally on the evening of the second day, Karid was summoned up to the castle.

He was escorted by a number of guards, including Kaden, to the little room, where he had spoken to the King before. The King was seated behind the table and Yoraed was standing next t him. Two soldiers were on either side of them. The guards left the room and the door swung shut behind him. Karid instinctively tensed; his usual reaction to being in a room with a closed door that he did not close himself.

The King fixed his gaze on him. "Babe in arms," he said.

"King Domaed," Karid returned formally, inclining his head as he had that first time.

"I believe you have transgressed on our hospitality."

The King waited. Karid said nothing.

"You stole from our armory, you stole one of our horses, you also disobeyed a request of our Prince and you knocked one of your guards unconscious."

Karid thought about that and then said, "Borrowed from your armory, and borrowed from your stables as well. Although I regret I will not be able to bring back your arrows as I have done with the rest of things I have borrowed. As to disobeying the request of the Prince, it was my plan, it didn't seem right to have people going into danger under my idea and not participate. And my guards wouldn't let me go if I asked them. I do apologize for that though. I didn't harm him permanently in any way though."

The King was silent for a moment but his stare was disapproving. At last he said, "However, I must thank you for saving the life of my son and Golboroth's Prince. In light of that debt, the transgressions on your part will be forgiven. However," he added, "I will not tolerate such doings in the future. Am I clear Nivarn?"

"As fine crystal, Your Majesty," Karid replied. The King frowned and then gestured him out. Karid went out, was surrounded by guards and returned to the healing rooms.

A little later Yoraed came to see him. At the moment, Inrid was changing the bandage on Karid's wrist. Yoraed settled himself on the bed next to him and helped Inrid wrap the bandage around his wrist.

"So," he said, "the whole castle has heard about your escapade and that you've saved my life."

Karid sighed.

Yoraed smiled and continued. "At any rate, they're having a celebration dinner, in well, celebration, of our victory over the viscecrals and lodocates."

"And the point of your telling me is?" Karid asked, having already guessed the answer and was hoping viscously that his guess was wrong.

"They want you to attend. They think it will be a great slight if you're not invited."

"And what does your father say to this?" Karid asked.

"He's letting you go. He can't do anything else really, you did save my life. However," he paused.

Karid arched an eyebrow up.

"You're sort of, well, grounded."

"Grounded?" Karid frowned, not understanding what it meant.

"It means you're not allowed to go anywhere. For a week at any rate. You're confined to the healing rooms."

Karids's eyes widened and then he narrowed them. "This is his way of getting back at me then," he said, "seeing as how he has to let me go to the celebration."

"Yes," said Yoraed, "He said if you were a babe in arms, he might as well treat you as a child."

"I see," said Karid, simply. Meanwhile he was mentally trying to fortify himself for a week indoors, that was sure to be horrifyingly boring as well as torture, as his inner restlessness, which had never quite decreased, begged to be expressed. "He has every right I suppose," he added.

Yoraed looked at him and said, "Even your freedom among the healing rooms has been restricted. You aren't allowed to wander where you used to, even with a guard."

Karid's face went blank as his little inner voice screamed for a moment. He abstractly noticed Yoraed's wince at his lack of expression. After a moment, Karid said carefully, "He really is mad at me."

Yoraed sighed. "It's really because you saved me," he admitted.

Karid looked at him. "He's mad because I saved his son?" he asked his voice a shade cool.

"He's mad," interrupted Inrid, "because he owes you."

Karid tilted his head to look at Inrid, saw him flinch slightly from the intensity of his gaze.

"I thought our debts to each other were canceled?" Karid asked.

Yoraed sighed, "You don't cancel out a debt like that, just like that," he said.

Karid fixed his gaze on him and waited until Yoraed locked gazes with him.

"Prince Yoraed," he said, his tone, smooth but hard, "you may inform the King Domaed, that I did not save his son for the purpose of indebting him. You may also inform him, that all debts that are owed between us are canceled. His people has saved my life and I have saved the life of his son."

Karid waited until Yoraed nodded. "Fair enough," he replied.

Then he got up and together with Inrid, left the room. Karid lay back in his bed and groaned out loud. How on good, good, land, was he supposed to survive this grounding?

 

Karid, who usually could spend the day in his room quite fine, with the knowledge that he would be released for a little while each day, or at least he could wander around a bit in the Healing Rooms, found himself pacing up and down in his room, like a caged animal. Finally a little after midday, he pleaded with the guards to let him see Inrid. They refused. Karid waited for about five minutes and asked again. They refused. He waited five minutes and repeated the exact same words he had used earlier. They refused. He repeated himself methodically, every five minutes, for more than an hour until one of the guards

snapped, "Fine!" Karid thanked him politely.

The guards escorted him to Inrid and Karid politely tapped on the open door. Inrid looked up and then his eyebrows shot up.

"What are you doing here?" he asked frowning.

"I want something to read," Karid told him.

Inrid's eyebrows went up again. Karid smiled, knowing he hadn't expected such a request from him.

Inrid looked around. They were in one of what were generally common rooms in the Healing Rooms.

"There are only medical books here, Nivarn," he said.

"So, can I borrow them?" Karid asked, as if oblivious to Inrid's implications.

Inrid frowned, "If you are looking to relieve boredom, I doubt they'd serve your purpose. Besides, you wouldn't understand half of what they said anyway. The use of terminology is very frequent."

Karid shrugged. "I don't care. Can I borrow them?"

Inrid sighed and speculated on whether he should actually let Karid have the books. He thought about it and then picked out several books. They were the ones with the most medical terminology and also the ones that were least likely to do any damage if Karid was planning something. He handed the stack to Karid.

"Enjoy," he told him shortly.

 

On the third day Inrid went to see Yoraed.

"Should I stop him?" he asked.

Yoraed looked up from whatever report he had been reading.

"Stop who? Nivarn?" Inrid nodded. "Stop him from what?"

"He's eating my books," said Inrid.

"What!" exclaimed Yoraed, half coming out of his chair.

"Not literally," said Inrid calmly.

"Oh," Yoraed sank back in his chair. Inrid raised an eyebrow. "I never know with him," Yoraed said in explanation. Inrid shrugged and then said,

"He's been rapidly inhaling the medical books in the Healing Rooms' library."

"Since when?" asked Yoraed.

"Since the first evening this week," said Inrid.

"Nivarn is reading medical books?" asked Yoraed, frowning. "That doesn't sound like him."

"With all due respect sire, I don't think we know him so well," said Inrid. "Also," he added, "he's not only been reading them sire, he's understanding what they say. And I gave him the ones with the most terminology."

Yoraed's eyes widened. "Understanding them? Are you sure?"

Inrid nodded. "He asked me questions, using medical terminology, that made sense."

"You answered them?"

"Vaguely," Inrid replied.

Yoraed sighed, "How did he even reach in the evening? Or was it when you went to change his bandage?"

"It wasn't," said Inrid, "I assume he persuaded his guards."

"How?" asked Yoraed, feeling slightly frustrated.

"I didn't dare to ask," said Inrid dryly. "So do I stop him?"

"Yes," said Yoraed tiredly, rubbing his eyes, "I'll tell Irana to pick out some normal books for him."

Inrid nodded and left. Yoraed sighed into the empty room.

 

The next day Yoraed visited Karid in the evening. He found him staring contemplatively at a closed book in his hand. He turned his head as Yoraed came in. Yoraed raised an eyebrow to the book.

"A romance," said Karid.

Yoraed looked at the pile of books on the floor, next to his bed.

"Every. Last. One," said Karid, dropping the book onto the pile at the last word. Yoraed winced.

"So,” said Karid sitting up, "Does Irana hate me as well, or is this her version of a prank?"

"Honestly," said Yoraed, "I don't know." Karid sighed.

"Back to pacing," he said. "Goodnight prince." Yoraed shook his head, gathered up the books and left the room.

 

Late that night, when Inrid had just finished a night watch with a particularly troublesome patient, he passed a common room with a single light. He poked his head into the room and there found Karid leafing through the pages of a book, quite obviously from the healing rooms' shelves. Inrid cleared his throat. Karid looked up at him, unconcerned and then went back to reading. Inrid huffed, walked in, snatched the book away and called for Karid's guards. Karid sighed and allowed himself to be led away to his rooms, by his furious guards.

 

13: Chapter 13

The next morning, not to Karid's surprise, he was summoned to meet the prince. He was led through the castle to finally arrive in a room in the north part of it. The guards entered into the room with him, but immediately withdrew, albeit uneasily.

Karid gazed around the room, his mind quickly taking notice of every form of exit and entry, as well as if there were any threats to him, along with anything he could use as a weapon. The room was large and spacious, and very airy, with two large windows facing the north, opening out of the castle walls. There was a huge, oval table in the center with several chairs placed haphazardly around it. A stand, used to hold up pieces of paper, was standing awkwardly off to the side, with its contents covered with a sheet. Shelves lined the walls, filled with leather bound books and tomes. When Karid was satisfied that there was no threat to him, he fixed his gaze on Yoraed who was leaning against the table, waiting patiently for him to finish his examination. Karid waited for him to speak.

"It has come to my attention, that you are, well, bored. So, I thought, we might use your time a little more wisely today."

Karid asked, "Does your father know I am here?"

"Yes," said Yoraed. Karid nodded but didn't ask anything else about the matter. Instead he said, "So what do you have in mind, Jerisha?"

Yoraed pushed off the table and sat instead in one of the chairs. "You said you didn't know the geography of the land. I was wondering if this might jog your memory." Karid tilted is head to the side questioningly. Yoraed pointed his chin to the stand.

"That's a map," he said, "But first I want to know what you know on your own."

Karid thought about it. Finally he answered:

"We live in the land Verasanaii. The land is divided into lands on this side of the mountains and that side of the mountains. Depending of course, which side of the mountains you come from. Verasanaii is split, roughly in half by The Mountain Range. The top border of Verasanaii is The Great River. I don't know what the bottom border is. I think it's a forest or something. That's about it."

"Nothing else?" asked Yoraed. Karid shook his head. Yoraed sighed.

"At least you know the basics," he said. He went over to the stand and pulled off the cloth. Karid followed him and then inspected thee map. It was a detailed map of Verasanaii, showing lands on both sides of the humongous mountain range that separated the lands that Verasanaii was broken up into. Karid looked out one of the windows to see the real range.

"On our side," said Yoraed, "you can see we only have five kingdoms. Golboroth, Arinth, Cering, Itureal and Salicianarath." Karid raised an eyebrow at the last one.

"Quite a mouthful," he commented. Yoraed grinned and then continued.

"And on the other side, there are six kingdoms. They are Iricil, Numeny, Roran, Savil, Layid and Kalishgarath."

"That's a whole kingdom more," Karid commented, “In fact, based on the size; it’s almost like two kingdoms more. Yoraed nodded.

"We actually inhabit less of our side. Most of it, as you can see, is forests on our part. Anyway," he said, "I thought we could concentrate on the lands on the other side, since we have generally decided you're not from on our side anyway."

Karid shrugged noncommittally. "Okay," he said.

Yoraed nodded and said, "Well let's start with Iricil, since it's at the top." Karid nodded in agreement and settle in to listen, while trying to rake through his brain in an attempt to free his memories.

"Well Iricil's capital is the city Erroin. They have a huge lake called the Lake of Ir. Their royal house goes by the name of Iriliad." Yoraed looked at Karid. "Anything?" he asked.

Karid shook his head. Nothing seemed familiar. Yoraed continued.

"The capital of Numeny is Loace. They have the Tri-Mountains and a little lake. Their royal house goes by the name of Otorin." He looked at Karid. Karid shook his head.

"Roran's capital is Casian. Um, they have mountains too. Royal house's name is Saramail." Karid shook his head again.

"Omer is the capital of Savil. They have more mountains, which I don't know the name of. Their royal house's name is Istina." Karid shook his head. Nothing was inspiring remembrance.

"Layid's capital is Turale. They are the closest to us and they have a lot of farmland. Their royal house's name is Greshina." Karid shook his head once more.

"And the last one, Kalishgarath." Karid looked at the map.

"There isn't a lot about it," he observed.

Yoraed answered, "Well, you see, up until a few years ago, Kalishgarath didn't exist."

Karid narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

Yoraed continued, "Before it used to be a large area of land called No Man's Land, that wasn't under anyone's rule. But apparently four years ago, Kalishgarath was formed. Although we weren't aware of it until two years ago, when a traveler, from that side came here for treatment. You know travelers are rare because, the mountain range and the fringe areas on both sides are extremely treacherous. At any rate, what the traveler was able to tell us was very little, since he was sick and didn't really pick up information as he usually does. So all we know of Kalishgarath is that it was formed approximately four years ago, the capital is apparently the large structure called the Stone Mountain and we have no idea who their royal house is, although we do know they have one."

Karid squinted towards the map. "What's the little dots mostly around Kalishgarath?" he asked.

"Way stations," said Yoraed, "According to the traveler, no one gets in or out of Kalishgarath unless you pass by those stations, situated on the three borders they share with other lands." Something in Yoraed's tone, when he described Kalishgarath made Karid take notice. He watched him for a moment and then said:

"You're wary of it."

Yoraed looked at him startled and then admitted, "Yes."

"Why?" asked Karid.

"Because," answered Yoraed, "we don't know anything about it."

Karid raised an eyebrow.

Yoraed sighed and elaborated, "The kingdoms over there have apparently been at war. With whom? Well, we're not sure if what we have heard is correct. However, before the war started, Kalishgarath, then, No Man's Land, had had various attacks. Indeed the war seemed to have started from there. The traveler who came, said that from Kalishgarath, most of what the kingdoms have been at war with, came from out of Kalishgarath. Not many people talk of it and with its closed-ness, we are not sure what to think about it."

"But you think it's a stronghold of the enemy that the kingdoms are fighting against," Karid said.

Yoraed nodded. "We're not sure though," he added.

Karid nodded and then asked, "Enemy?"

Yoraed sighed, "I'll tell you another time. Did anything seem familiar?"

Karid thought and then shook his head. Yoraed opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by tapping on his door.

"Come in," he said instead. A messenger entered and informed them that General Arlad was back with some of their men. Yoraed thanked the man and then turned to Karid regretfully.

"I have to go," he said.

Karid shrugged smoothly. "I know," he said.

Yoraed gave him a wry smile and said, "I'll send up some better books for you later."

Karid grinned at that. "Please do," he said. Then he left the room and was escorted back to his own.

 

14: Chapter 14

Yoraed visited Karid on the morning of the celebration feast. He sat on the bed watching worriedly as Karid devoured his food in the slightest possible time, as he always did. After a moment of watching he said with a slight hint of panic in his voice,
"Please tell me you know how to eat at a formal feast."
Karid paused, looked at his worried expression and chuckled. "Yes, prince," he said amusedly, "I know how to eat at a formal feast. I give you my word that I will not scarf down the food." 
"Ahh," said Yoraed, "I'm much relieved." Then he paused and thought and added, "Please tell me you know how to use the utensils and things right?"
Karid narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance "Yes, prince." Yoraed blew out another breath in relief and Karid took pity on him and let up on the stare. 
"Anyway" said Yoraed, "You're changing with me this evening in the castle."
Karid tilted his head and gave him an inquisitive look. 
"Three reasons," said Yoraed, "The first being that the tailors don't want to carry their precious work all the way down to the healing rooms. The second is that I believe you will kill any attendants I send here," Karid opened his mouth to protest, despite knowing it was probably true but Yoraed continued without letting him have a chance, "And the third being, I'm hoping to get away from my attendants." 
Karid's eyebrows shot up at the last one. "How is my being there supposed to help with that?" he asked.
"If there are two of us, one of us can hold shut the door while the other gets something to block it."
"Uh huh," said Karid in the tone of someone who doesn't quite know what to do with a piece of information.
Yoraed sighed and said, "I dislike having attendants... immensely."
"I gathered that," said Karid dryly. Yoraed frowned at him and then said, "You'll be escorted to the castle an hour and a half before sundown."
Karid sighed and nodded. "Fine. It's only one night right?" 
"Thankfully, yes," answered Yoraed. "I'll see you this evening Nivarn. Try not to anger your guards today."
"No need," said Karid, “I have stuff to read." He pointed to the pile of books Yoraed had sent and grinned at Yoraed, who returned it.
"Glad you like them," he said and left. 

Later that evening Karid found himself in the castle, in Yoraed's huge room which was actually divided into two sections for them. After the baths had been drawn, Yoraed's attendants showed up and he locked them and everyone else out and Karid obligingly shoved a chair under the handles of the doors. He was pretty sure both their sets of guards didn't like that either. They had their baths and both changed in their partitions. At least they put on trousers and undershirts. Then they both stood staring with dislike at the items of clothing laid on the bed. The items in question being two sets on long sleeved shirts, two knee length coats and also there two pairs of boots on the floor. It was really the shirts that were the problem. Karid had seen and had a sneaking suspicion that he had worn, shirts like that before. And he didn't like them. They were far too much fuss. They were, in fact, the only reason one might need attendants. For one, the shirts had to be laced down the front instead of buttoned or clasped or just being like normal shirts which one just tossed over the top of one’s head. They had to be laced right or the whole thing would look awful. Then in addition to that the sleeves were also split, almost from the shoulder and also had to be laced rigidly tight over ones arms so that it appeared to be somewhat like a second skin. Lacing up the arms were going to be the worst. 
"Why does one wear this?" Karid asked Yoraed after a moment. 
"Tradition," said Yoraed.
"If they're long sleeved why are there coats to wear as well.?"
"The coats are sleeveless," Yoraed told him. 
Karid sighed. "Also tradition? Do I have to wear one?" 
"Yes," Yoraed told him. "Come on, let’s put them on."
They both sighed and picked up the shirts and carefully put them on and began lacing them up. 
Karid found that his suspicion was proven true when his fingers nimbly tugged the laces into the proper position with the precise amount of tension. Halfway down he also discovered that the Golboroth version of the shirt also had the laces in the front looped through a second set of loops in the back of the shirt on the inside, so that when one laced up the front, you sort of laced up the back too. That odd arrangement actually helped ensure that the shirt didn't stick out in odd places. Karid finished with the front and searched under the hem of the shirt for the little space in the hem left for the tucking in of extra string. He found it and stuck the extra laces into them and then made sure it didn’t bulge in front. He inspected his appearance so far in the room's mirror. The clothing was a closer fit than he was accustomed to and far less free moving. For this sort of occasion he was used to looser tunics that were of lighter material, which only had the v-neck half laced up and allowed for freedom of movement for dancing. Coats were the only heavy thing and they were quickly discarded. Not like the clothing here where everything was heavy and laced onto you. He broke free of his thoughts suddenly and found himself wondering how many occasions like this he had attended. He didn't know. 
He turned away from the mirror to see Yoraed tucking the ends of his laces under the hem. Outside his attendants started to protest saying that he had to let them in or he'd never finish in time. Yoraed ignored them and looked with intense dislike at the sleeves which were already laced up but required pulling tight. A feat that was actually quite daunting. 
Karid stared at his sleeves and then started to unlace them. Yoraed looked up 
from his own sleeves to see Karid and protested.
"What are you doing Nivarn?!"
"Relax Yoraed," said Karid, "It's going to look the same afterward." Karid continued to unlace the sleeves and then using his other hand and his teeth began to re-lace them in a slightly different fashion. It technically looked the same unless someone looked extremely closely at it. Even then, it wouldn't look very much different as the edges of the split sleeve would cover it up.
"Don't bite it!" Yoraed said. Karid ignored him, finished lace up the sleeve and then proceeded to pull it tighter. Only now, he could pull the top or outside part of the sleeve tight but the bottom part or rather the inside part where the sleeve didn't show so much, he left it slacker. Thus he now had almost his full range of motion and due to the way he had re-laced it the whole sleeve wouldn't go slack. 
He did the same for the other arm and then stretched his arms experimentally. Yup, he could use his arms quite fine. 
Yoraed who had laced up his sleeves in the normal way looked at him in envy.
"How did you do that?" he asked, "I can't lift my arms over my head." Karid grinned and was about to answer when they heard a voice saying,
"Move back and let me through. Move back I say! I have to get these to him and he won't let me in if you all hover around here. Yes, I'll make sure he's presentable. Let me through!" A loud knock sounded on the door. 
"Open up Prince!" said the obviously female voice. Yoraed smiled and removed the chair carefully and allowed a young girl into the room. She looked just shy of eighteen and had two boxes in her hands. 
"Hello my Prince!" she greeted Yoraed. She rested the boxes carefully on the bed and placed her hands on her hips and inspected him.
"Hello, Arnia. Always a pleasure," Yoraed replied smiling at her and taking her inspection with good grace. She finished her inspection and then held out her hand and pointed to his arms. He grimaced and raised them obediently. She efficiently and rather painfully, as far as Karid was concerned, adjusted the sleeves so that they looked more presentable. When she was finished she looked him over once more and then turned her gaze to Karid. 
"Hello," she said, "You are Nivarn right?" Karid nodded.
"I gather you are Arnia?" he said. She nodded.
"Indeed," she said. She inspected him and apparently found no fault in his dressing. 
"And you are here for...?" Karid asked. 
"Gloves," Yoraed replied, "She makes gloves."
"Ahh," said Karid. He decided he hated Golboroth dressing traditions. He watched as Arnia pulled out Yoraed's pair of gloves and his face went blank when he saw more laces. He finally processed why Arnia hadn't simply sent the gloves. She was needed to help lace them up, especially since Yoraed apparently locked his attendants out every chance he got. Arnia carefully laced the back of the gloves up and then adjusted it so that the glove was comfortable and allowed as much movement as possible. When she was finished with Yoraed she came over to Karid and held out her hand.
"May I see you hands?" she asked.
Karid hesitated, quickly inspecting her, but found no threat there. He held out his hands to her. She took one and carefully looked at it and ran her fingers lightly over the calluses in his palm which had faded some since he had arrived but hadn't completely gone, and also over the small scars that decorated his hands and tested the tips of his fingers with hers. Then she lifted his arm, looked at the way he had laced up the sleeve and laughed.
"I thought so," she said, still chuckling. Karid tilted his head. She smiled and went to get his gloves, talking as she did so.
"My brother," she said, "is a traveler. And he does the very same thing whenever he has to wear fancy clothes like these. You know, when the king or lord of a place asks him to dinner like they do with most travelers who enter their realm."
"And my hands?" asked Karid, honestly curious.
"Some gloves," she said returning with his, "Like some I make, can be laced up in different ways. Yours is one like that. I wanted to see which way would suit you best."
"From my hands?"
"Hands tell a story," she told him, "and yours tell a lot about you." 
She held out one of the gloves and Karid slid his hand into it. He had a sudden understanding why this girl was the one making gloves for the royal house. They were wonderful. The insides were soft, the leather was supple and the cloth that was stitched onto the leather felt like it was done so seamlessly. To Karid's surprise and pleasure the fingers of the gloves only came up to past the second joint on his fingers, leaving the tips free. Arnia carefully laced up the complicated pattern on the gloves and then stepped back and inspected his hands. She nodded in satisfaction and then said,
"I have something else for you." She went over and extracted a piece of cloth from the glove box. She held it out to him. Karid took it cautiously and turned it over in his hands. It appeared to be a headband of some sort. He fixed his gaze on her inquiringly. 
"I saw you in the market square," she said in explanation, "and when I went to see the tailors to find out what colors they were using for you two, I told them to make a head band, but they didn't listen. They never do. So I snitched a piece of cloth and made something."
"That's.... thoughtful of you," said Karid. He knew she was telling the truth but he couldn't help but be suspicious for some reason. 
"She always is," Yoraed's voice came and Karid heard the underlying message, telling him to relax. He inspected the headband once more and idly wondered whether to be grateful for it or to be offended because his hair was technically being offended. He glanced at the mirror at his hair which had grown out a bit in the last few weeks and now was in a sort of in between, floppy look. He sighed and held it out to her. She came over and put it on for him. When she was done he re-inspected himself in the mirror. The headband had pulled the hair which usually hung over his eyes, back. But unlike other headbands, this one didn't consist of just one circle of cloth. The top part was split into slices of various width. These slices were spread out over his head and also held back any ends of hair from sticking out and made his head the lose the floppy look. The only loose parts were the strands which fell down the back of his neck and curled charmingly there. He looked different once more and once more the look accentuated the bold tattoos and the sharp planes of his face. 
Yoraed took one look at him and said, "Be very charming."
Karid grinned at him and said, "But of course," in a voice that implied the very opposite. Yoraed glared at him then looked worried and then went into indifference and said, "Well, it's your funeral."
Karid laughed and said, "I have no intention of dying just yet Prince. Don't get your hopes up."
"Ah bad-land, "said Yoraed in mock defeat, "Here was I hoping." Then he grinned and said, "Get your boots on Nivarn, in twelve minutes we'll officially be late." 
Karid raised his eyebrows and scrambled into his boots. Arnia gathered up her boxes while he was doing that and left them, telling them to have a good time. 
Karid finished with the boots, got into the coat, which thankfully didn't have anything to lace up and then Yoraed and Karid along with their guards flew, with dignity, to the Great Hall. 

 

15: Chapter 15

Nraed Jerisha leaned against a column in Reclinobash's Great Hall, sipping from a glass of wine and taking in the scene before him. Tables were set up all down the middle of the hall although right now only appetizers and drinks were being served. People moved around, talking and laughing and gossiping. The celebratory feast was already starting to build up although it hadn't officially started. Nraed kept his eyes on the doors waiting for his cousin to arrive and hoping that nothing unfortunate had happened. He didn't trust Nivarn like his cousin did. He kept watch on the door whist juggling talking to several of his peers, and other people from the noble houses with which he spent most of his time.
Just when he thought they would be late, the doors opened and the herald announced the arrival of the Prince and one Nivarn. Yoraed came in first, followed by his usual guards and retinue for official occasions and after them Karid came in followed by his usual guards. Nread glanced at them approvingly. Yoraed was dressed in Golboroth's colors, blue and silver, like Nraed himself. His clothes were a dark blue and heavily embroidered with silver, but it wasn't overdone. And he had on what Nraed termed, his prince face. Karid was dressed in black with silver embroidery, although the embroidery was much less than most peoples' and could even be called sparse. Somehow though, it suited him and he made the clothes seem both regal and festive. The regal, Nraed understood, but how anyone made black look festive, was beyond him. Once more, Karid had glided into the room, his footsteps seemingly noiseless. A hush settled over the room when they entered and there was an awkward pause. 
One which Nraed broke by pushing of his column and saying mockingly, 
"Ahh! There is our esteemed Prince! He has to decided to grace with his presence at last!" The room tittered and the tension which had begun to build, dissipated a little.
"But of course I wouldn't dream of missing it," replied Yoraed smoothly, not bothering to mask the sticky, sweetness in his tone, so obviously used to cover up intense dislike. 
"Yes, of course. How could you not honor your savior my Prince? Since it seems, your footing was something you did miss at that battle," said Nraed. It was meant to sound humorous, even though everyone there knew it was not. Still they laughed. Nraed felt the tension of the crowd dissipate. The two heirs to the throne having a polite spat was nothing new and simply reassured them.
"Of course," said Yoraed, "It is always good when you have someone to watch your back when you need them to." The comment was said pointedly, dripping with sugar-coated poison and barbed in all sorts of ways. 
Nraed laughed and said meaningfully, "Let's hope they're watching your back to protect it." Before Yoraed could reply, he swiped a glass of wine from a passing waiter and held it out to him. "A toast?" he asked, "To begin the festivities?"
Yoraed leveled his gaze at him and then took the glass. 
"To the victory and prowess of our true soldiers," said Nraed.
"And the future stability and prosperity of our kingdom," said Yoraed. They clinked glasses on insults and drank. The rest of the court downed their glasses by rote. Nraed gave a mocking bow to Yoraed and then stepped out of the way for him to proceed to the head of the table. Yoraed handed his empty glass to a waiter and ignoring Nraed he proceeded to the head of the table. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

Karid had watched the blatant, polite spat between Yoraed and the other man, with interest. He had no idea who the man had been but summarized by his Jerisha blue eyes that he was related to Yoraed. Perhaps a cousin. They obviously didn't like each other and the other man obviously didn't trust him, Karid, judging by the last comment before the barbed toast. When Yoraed proceeded to the head of the table Karid was at a loss as to where to go. 
However his guards guided him to sit on the left hand side of the table after Yoraed. He felt very conspicuous. People came and sat after him in their positions according to rank.
Karid turned his head slightly and gave him a look. 
"Because you are being honored you are awarded the highest place of honor," Yoraed told him softly. Karid nodded once but it didn't make him feel any better. As far as he was concerned, he didn't do much more than the other solider who had fought. Yes he had saved the prince but besides that...not much. Across from Karid ,Arlad sat, and gave him a slight frown. Karid instinctively smiled back at him. The frown grew deeper. Next to Karid sat another captain and another sat after Arlad. After that captain, on the right side of the table, the man who had spoken to Yoraed earlier sat, confirming Karid's suspicion that he was part of the royal family. One, he noted, that Yoraed had never mentioned. The man gave Karid a sly smile. Karid gave him his most charming one and turned his gaze from him. 
Karid wondered where the king was. He turned his head and mouthed the question to Yoraed. Yoraed simply shook his head slightly. The king would not be here. At least not right now. 
When everyone was seated and the food had been placed on the table, Yoraed stood and spoke to begin the actual festivities with what appeared to be a traditional little speech for such occasions. When he was finished and had sat back down, then everyone was served and they started eating. 
Karid spoke little throughout the feast and people said very little to him, though of course, he received many glances. He caught the 'other Jerisha' (as Karid had privately dubbed him) glancing at him more than once. Yoraed also spoke little throughout the feast. When he did, it was to Arlad or one of the other captains or to respond to another particularly barbed comment from the other Jerisha, who usually won these exchanges. In fact the other Jerisha was the only one, near the head of the table who spoke much. He conversed easily with everyone and seemed to know them very well. 
Further down the hall, Karid caught sight of Irana, dressed in pale blue and chatting with another young woman across from her, who was dressed in pale green but wore an odd shade of blue jewelry, that somehow went well with her clothing. 
Karid glanced back to the other Jerisha who now had almost two tables caught up in his conversation. Karid got the feeling that he was much more liked than Yoraed. At least by the court. This was compounded when the other Jerisha spun around abruptly and asked Yoraed what he thought about some scandal or the other involving one of their peers and Yoraed had responded saying he didn’t think anything at all since he had better things to do than listen to court gossip. The tables had given grunts of disappointment and waves of dissatisfaction. Karid heard someone mumble something to the effect of 'better things, like fall in a river.' He glanced and saw Yoraed sigh and go back to his meal. Karid looked across to see Arlad glare at whoever had said it. Needless to say, Karid was glad when the actual dinner part was done and he was released from the blasted kingdom keep table. 
The tables were removed from the hall by servants and musicians came in and set themselves up on a little stage which also had been moved in by the servants and began to play typical ballroom music. Karid leaned against a pillar further back from everyone, and watched as the nobles paired up and began to dance. 
He watched Yoraed cross the floor to a woman who had just entered the hall and ask her to dance. She smiled at him and accepted graciously. Karid saw with surprise that she was a fair headed as Yoraed and also had the same blue eyes. She also shared a remarkable resemblance to King Domaed and hence Yoraed. Karid guessed that she was Yoraed's aunt and hence a princess or duchess of Golboroth. She was probably the mother of the other Jerisha. However she seemed to have none of spiteful characteristics of her son. Karid watched them swoop gracefully over the dance floor for a while and turned his attention to the people around. Being in such a crowd didn't make him feel entirely comfortable but he found he had slid into a state of quiet hyperawareness, which allowed him to enjoy himself and also watch his back. 
He continued to lean against the pillar and people watch, which was turning out to be highly amusing, Karid found. It was very interesting to read people and figure out why they acted the ways they did. He was in the middle of sorting out a complicated love triangle when he noticed Yoraed coming towards him. Behind him the other other Jerisha was also coming is way. Karid gave a mental sigh.
Yoraed reached him, gave the guard who were standing against the walls, a smile and said to Karid, "Hey."
Karid gave him a slight smile and said, "What are you doing here, Yoraed?"
"I'm hoping,” said Yoraed "that if I stand next to you no one will come and talk to me."
"Are you actually that antisocial?" asked Karid with genuine curiosity.
"Only at court," Yoraed replied.
"Well, your luck just ran out," Karid told him.
"Why?" asked Yoraed frowning. Karid pointed with his chin. Yoraed turned to see the other Jerisha almost to them. Karid hear him give a quiet sigh. 
"Nivarn," he said, as the other came up to them, "I'd like you to meet my cousin Nraed Jerisha. Nraed, Nivarn."
"Ahh," said the other, "Most pleased to meet you Nivarn." He held out his hand. 
Karid gave it a firm shake. 
"Nraed is sort of the other prince of Golboroth. He is heir to the throne after me. But he won't carry the title unless I'm dead," Yoraed said, obviously for Karid's enlightenment. He finished with, "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." With that he spun around and left Karid in the clutches of Nraed. 
Karid automatically cleared any preconceptions about Nraed from his head. The action surprised even him but he quickly realized the wisdom of it. Nraed smiled at him.
"So you are the vaunted Nivarn," he said. His gaze flicked up and down Karid as if he was measuring him. The look that crossed his face after, said that he had found Karid wanting. Karid waited until Nraed looked him in the face again and then locked his gaze with his. He saw his eyes widen with shock at the intensity of his gaze and then just as quickly returned to normal. Here was a man who hid his emotions well. 
"I don't know about vaunted," said Karid easily, "but I am Nivarn." 
"But you saved our dear prince," said Nraed, apparently having recovered from the shock in record time. 
"As, I'm sure, any other soldier would have done," Karid replied.
"But you were the one," Nraed persisted.
"As fate would have it" Karid said, "And who are we to take credit for fate's designs?" Nraed looked down, breaking free of Karid's gaze.
"Hmm," said Nraed, as he considered his answer, "It seems you are a humble man, Nivarn." Then he slanted his eyes at him, "Or are you really?"
"Maybe I am maybe I'm not," said Karid simply, "I'm not one to know either. I act as I see fit. I suppose we shall have to see from my actions."
"From your actions..." repeated Nraed thoughtfully. He leaned against the pillar conspiratorially. "Tell me Nivarn, if it wasn't for glory, why did you go off to fight?"
"Perhaps," said Karid, "I don't like sitting safe somewhere while others die for my protection." He finished on a pointed note.
Nraed laughed. "Was that aimed at me?" he asked amusedly. 
Karid shrugged, "I suppose it's only when someone cries out that we know they got hit. And I suppose the more they protest, the more we know just how barbed that arrow was for them." 
Nraed laughed."How quaintly put," he said, "Are you sure there was nothing more to it, Nivarn? Perhaps you wanted a place here? Do you? Since you.ve obviously lost yours, wherever you came from. Did you even have one there? Oh I forgot, you can't remember. Or," he said leaning forward, locking his gaze onto Karid's. Karid could feel the old world feeling, locked into those eyes, focus on him, as Nraed searched him.
"is it for a far more sinister reason? Are you really as you say? Or do you sprout poisonous little lies?" 
Karid gave him a wicked smile, "Why do you ask?," he asked him, "Do you want me do some of your work for you?" At that Nraed leaned back and laughed.
"Oh no," he said, "I don't need help from the like of barbarians." Then he lifted a glass from a passing waiter and handed it to Karid.
"A pleasure to be acquainted with you Nivarn," he said. And with a mocking imitation of the bow Karid had given to the king in court, he left. 
Karid watched his retreating figure with interest. Then he lifted his glass to him in acknowledgement of a job well done. 
A very well played facade, Karid thought, as he shifted the glass to his next hand and poured its contents into a potted plant that had had the unfortunate luck to be placed there. He wondered under whose orders he acted, the King's or Yoraed's? He placed the glass back on a waiter's tray. 
Movement behind him caused him to turn. Servants were opening the doors on the other side of the hall to reveal a part of the terrace looking over the back of the city which, was railed off. A few chairs were set up there. Karid decided he had had enough of people for the moment. He headed out to the much cooler terrace. To his surprise, the guards did not follow him. Then he realized that people would most likely not come to the terrace if he was there. He was delighted. 

Karid had been sitting in a chair, half paying attention to the celebrations inside and half watching the back part of the city which wasn’t really the city but actually the fields outside it, when he noticed a tiny figure approaching him. He turned to watch the figure properly. It was a little boy, a toddler, in fact. He approached Karid, half scared and half shy, and finally came to stop next to him. He stretched a pudgy hand towards Karid's face with a wide eyed pleading look. Karid sighed and leaned over and allowed the child to touch the tattoos on his face. The child touched his face hesitantly, and jerked back his hand and watched Karid's face to see if he was mad. When he saw he wasn't he placed his little palm more firmly on his face. Then he removed it, extended a finger and carefully traced the pattern as much as he was able. Karid was praying he wouldn't get accidentally jabbed in the eye with that childish finger. When the child was done, he looked at Karid with awe and delight and said, "Buh!" in a tone of pure glee. 
Karid smiled, "Buh," he agreed. Just then a shadow fell over them. A guard extended his hand to extract the little child. The boy drew back and instantly presented the portrait of a child who is on the verge of a crying, screaming fit. The guard retracted his hand. Karid thought him wise. The child smiled sweetly at the guard and Karid had to bite down on his own laughter. The guard huffed and moved a little bit away. The child turned to Karid and raised his hands in the classic plea for pick up. Karid sighed and hefted the child in his arms and settled him into his lap. He had been bouncing the gurgling toddler on his knee for a few minutes when he noticed other tiny figures huddled around the doorway. When they saw he had noticed them they came shyly towards him. Karid stopped bouncing the child and let out a horrified sigh.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night when Yoraed looked again for Karid, he found him sitting in the middle of the lighted balcony, with what appeared to be all the small children who had come to the celebration. Watching them were groups of worried parents who were trying not show how much they were worried. Yoraed understood how they felt but at the moment he was feeling more sorry for Karid. He came closer to the scene and studied it. Several of the older ones, to their parents' horror Yoraed was sure, were sitting on the ground around him, apparently quizzing him on anything they could possibly think of. From his favorite color to whether he like apple pie or blueberry pie more to whether he had killed anyone to if he went to bed with foot-wrappings if it got cold. Several of the younger ones were chasing each other around him, getting dangerously close to the railing but Karid appeared to have eyes in the back of his head. Whenever one got too close to the railing, he'd call them back by name. He had apparently memorized their names already. 
At the moment little Lizandra had joined the circle around Karid and began to talk to him. Yoraed had to stifle his laughter because in Lizandra’s effort to speak properly, she was carefully enunciating each word, regardless of whether that was the proper way to say it. So their conversation ran something like this:
"Dids it hurted much?" Lizanrda asked carefully pointing to Karid's tattoo. Yoraed saw Karid bite down his own smile and answer.
"I can't remember, but it probably did."
"If it hurted, why have it?" 
Karid shrugged, "I don't know?"
"If haves it, why haves it on face?" Lizandra squished up her own face. 
"I don't know either," Karid answered. 
Just then one of the other children said, "Why are you speaking like that Lizandra?"
"I'm speaksing properly!" she said to the boy.
"No you're not!"
"I speaks properly!"
At that moment Karid's laughter got the better of him.
Lizandra whirled on him, “You laughs at me! Why you laughs at me?!" Karid forcibly controlled himself. 
"Because he answered, you're not speaking properly."
"I nots??!" she gasped.
Karid shook his head, "You're supposed to say "I'm not' ."
Lizandra looked at him for a while and then her lower lip began to tremble. 
"I was tryings," she mumbled, her eyes filling up.
Karid sighed. "How about this," he said, "Why don't you speak properly when you're older?" 
"I cans do that?" she asked him hopefully. 
"Sure,” he replied. 
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Karid was in the midst of the teaching the children a simple step dance that they could do to most beats when he caught sight of Yoraed leaning against the doorway grinning at him.
"Save me," Karid, mouthed to him. Yoraed shook his head, still smiling and mouthed back:
"Our debts are canceled."
Karid glared at him and then removed a child who was stepping on his foot. Yoraed sauntered towards him and asked, "What are you all doing here?" The children instantly fell quiet with awe and respect. They were accustomed to Yoraed, Karid was sure, but it was obvious they respected him too. 
"The younger ones complained that they couldn't dance because they didn't know any of the proper dances so I was teaching them one they could do the most of the music," Karid answered him.
"Oh," said Yoraed, "Sounds interesting." 
"It does indeed," came a new voice. Yoraed turned around with a smile and Karid looked at Yoraed's aunt whom he had noticed coming towards them, long before she had spoken. 
"Nivarn," said Yoraed, "This is my aunt Laeda. She is what we call the Past Princess and she is also the first Duchess of Golboroth." 
"It is a great pleasure to meet you," Karid answered smoothly. He inclined his head as he had done in court that day. 
"The pleasure," she said in her clear voice,” is all mine." She smiled at him and said, "I have yet to see you dance Nivarn," she said, "Would you care for a dance with me?" 
Karid was surprised but none of it showed on his face. "I'm not sure I know the steps of all the dances Lady," he said, "They vary from what I know, a bit."
She smiled at him again, "That is no problem," she said, "as I do believe that the dance that has just started is led by the lady, so if you follow my lead, you shall have no problem." Karid gave in and nodded graciously. 
They entered the dance smoothly. The dance was one that Karid knew, although once again, he didn't know how he knew. He felt the surprise of the other couples on the floor but ignored it in favor of focusing on the dance. The Lady was a good dancer and Karid found that he was too. He moved through the steps easily, almost as if they were second nature. He must have danced a lot, he mused. To his surprise the Lady Laeda did not speak, throughout the dance as he'd expected but instead simply danced. So Karid followed her lead and stayed silent. 
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Irana drew near to Yoraed and said, "He is a wonderful dancer." Yoraed said nothing but continued looking at them. Karid and Lady Laeda moved gracefully through the dance. As a pair they were exquisite to look at. They seemed almost to float or glide over the dance floor. And it was only because Yoraed was looking for it that he noticed when Karid actually didn't know the steps.
"Do you think she was sent or she decided to do it for herself?" asked Yoraed.
Irana smiled at the question, "Knowing your aunt," she said, "I suspect she went for herself. Your father would never want her that close to him." Yoraed smiled in turn.
"That is true," he said. He watched for a moment more and then said, "She is a wonderful woman."
Irana laughed. "Of course," she said. She bumped his shoulder with hers, "She did train me." Then she turned and slipped away. 
Just then the dance ended and Karid came up to him.
"Do you think I would offend anyone if I left now?" he asked Yoraed.
Yoraed grinned. "Probably," he answered, "But then, you'll offend someone no matter when you leave so long as it isn't the end of the feast. However I think we can sneak you out. I only wish I could do the same." Karid gave him a rare, sympathetic grin and went with Yoraed to inform his guards to sneak him out. 


 

16: Chapter 16

It was a week later when Yoraed came in to Karid's room, to find him, as he had been for sometime lately, engrossed in a book. His room had books that covered topics from either, adventure novels, history books, medical books he had sneaked out and even philosophy. He seemed to read almost anything. Yoraed tilted his head to read the title. It was a book about philosophy this time, one that Yoraed was supposed to have read when he was younger and hadn't gotten past the first four chapters. Karid was already halfway through it. By tomorrow, if left alone, he would be through it. He also read at a ridiculous rate and could quote long passages from the books after. 
Yoraed tugged at the book. Karid closed the book and sat up.
"What brings you here Prince?" he asked.
Yoraed sat in the chair by the bed and said, “Seeing as how you fought by the river, Arlad wanted to access your combat capabilities. Outside of an actual battle. You know, where we can actually see what happens. Some soldiers who were there were impressed with you skill."

Karid considered Yoraed's words. It made sense that they would want to know what he could do. He didn't blame them. Besides, he would like to get out. Reading was all well and good but he needed to spend more time outside, doing things or he'd explode one day. He had kept his head down for the last week so the King of Golboroth wouldn't have anything to complain about (with the exception of borrowing the medical books without permission.)
"Sure," he answered. "When?" 
"Tomorrow," replied Yoraed. "The healers have assured me you are in good health for it and your wrist can handle the strain."
Karid snorted. "I could have told you that myself Prince," he said. 
Yoraed gave him a look, disregarded his comment and said, "I'll see you in the training yards at first light tomorrow." Karid nodded. Yoraed pulled himself up from the chair and swept out the room. Karid looked at closed door and picked back up his book. He might as well read as much as he could right now. He had a feeling tomorrow would be tiring.
When Karid's eyes snapped open in the dark of predawn, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of rightness. This was the time he was accustomed to waking at, not after dawn. He got himself ready, had a sturdy breakfast and, with his guards found his way to the training yards in Reclinobash. The sun's rays were just starting to shoot into the sky from behind the horizon, when he entered.
The yards were filled with soldiers, most of them, geared up and practicing either by themselves or in pairs. The yard went almost silent when he entered and then just as quickly all the noise started back up again. 
Karid spotted Arlad coming towards him from one direction and Yoraed peeled himself off of the wall he had been leaning on and came towards him too. Arlad reached him first and looked him up and down but said nothing. Yoraed reached after and said, "Good morning."
Karid gave a slight smile and said, "Good morning." Then he turned and allowed his eyes to sweep the training yards properly. Most of the soldiers there, were of course, on high alert, but most were trying to not let it show. They didn't have on full metal armor but simple leather ones, easier to train in and they had wooden swords, typical for practice, should in case an unfortunate accident occurred. Karid quickly scanned everyone there and then turned his attention to the building surrounding the training yards and noted the men with bows hidden there. He smiled grimly in his head. 
"So," he said to Arlad, "what is it that I am to do?" Arlad narrowed his gaze on him and jerked his head to a soldier. The soldier went and returned with two wooden swords. Arlad handed Karid one.
"We'll warm up first," he said. He turned and stalked to the middle of the yard. Soldiers instantly moved out of the way and formed a loose ring around them. 
Karid settled into a fighting stance and held out his sword. Arlad did the same. When they were both ready, Karid hear Yoraed's voice call out start. Ad they started. 
They began slowly, each taking their time to build into the stokes. Then slowly they began to increase their tempo, the stoke coming faster and faster. They had just settled into a rhythm, when Karid heard Yoraed say to stop. They paused and stepped back from each other and took a few moments to breathe. Then Yoraed called out start again and they begun, falling back into the tempo they had had when they ended and increasing it again. By the third set, Karid found that his muscles were now really beginning to loosen up. By the fourth set his muscles began to work properly. Or, as properly as they could anyway. At least that was the way it felt to Karid. He had lost a lot of muscle when he was ill and it had never truly been rebuilt. 
After the fourth set Arlad called a halt and Karid was handed water from someone. As usual he methodically checked it first before he drank, in case something was in it that shouldn't be. The water being clean, he drank it gratefully. 
He watched with interest as Arlad handed his wooden sword to another soldier an stood off to the side. Karid warily eyed the soldier, mentally breaking down his physique and what that meant about the way he fought. Karid was fairly sure they would be pitting their best against him and they had all seen how he fought in his warm up with Arlad, they would have an advantage. Or, thought Karid, so they think. 
Karid handed the water bottle back to someone and went to meet the soldier. The soldier inclined his head and Karid did the same.
"Start!" said Arlad. They started. 

Since it wasn't a warm up, the soldier came after Karid as best he could. Which was pretty good. He blocked the first attack, and then the second. He continued to block, letting the soldier set the pace, whilst he tried to find his own inner rhythm. Due to warm up he didn't take long to find it. He soon stepped up, attacking and blocking until he matched the pace of the battle and then he increased it. The solider matched it. Karid kept it that way to see if he would tire. He didn't, so Karid stepped up the pace once more. The soldier matched it but this time couldn't sustain it. He thrust and Karid dodged it and had the point of his wooden sword hovering by the soldiers throat. The soldier yielded gracefully. Karid stepped back and he and the soldier bowed to each other.
Karid got more water and then went into another sparring match. When he won that one, the process was repeated. Karid could feel as his body fell back into its groove, settling itself into routine of the moves, and reacquainting itself with moving muscle he hadn't really used in awhile, barring the fight with the viscecrals, where he had probably been running on pure adrenaline and battle hype and practicing with the curtain rod in his room, really hadn't cut it, there not being enough space. 
Even so Karid knew he wasn't quite back to the way he had been. Because when he was fighting, even though he was faster than the person he was sparring against, every time he thrust or slashed, a little voice in the back of his head would go, 'too slow' or 'too jerky' or 'too wild, not controlled enough' or it would tell him that his feet were too heavy or his footwork wasn't precise enough or that he wasn't moving smoothly enough on the whole. And the voice sounded like his, like the way he might have, when he was first learning and pushing himself beyond his current limit. Karid struggled to remember but noting beyond that came. He felt frustrated but pushed his frustration away. It was going to do him no good in sparring matches. 
The next sparring match was about to start and so Karid went to meet whoever it was that he was going to fight. To his surprise, it was Kaden. Karid grinned at him and the both inclined their heads to each other and then the match began.

Yoraed watched Karid and Kaden fight. Karid was on his seventh match and Kaden was fresh, yet Karid showed no signs of tiring soon, he showed no signs of tiredness, period. In fact with each match he got better and seemed to be more alive than Yoraed had ever seen him. Yoraed followed the match, fascinated. Karid was, without a doubt, one of the best fighters he had seen, barring those from Salicianarath. He glided over the floor. His footstep were light and surprisingly soft. He was going without armor and didn't seem to need it. He was scarcely ever hit and when he was, it didn't seem to hamper him. His sword strokes were sure and swift and flowed beautifully from one motion to another. Wooden swords do not ring but you could hear the 'woop' of his sword as it cut through air. His footwork was also solid and Yoraed hadn't seen him actually stumble once for the morning. 
The two of them went at it steadily for some minutes and as before Karid seemed to be gaining the upper hand. But then Kaden stepped back, shifted into another stance and attacked viciously, sword whirling in a completely style than before. Karid was taken unawares by the shift in style and was driven back for a bit. Then, because Yoraed had been studying their footwork, he saw the moment when Karid's feet shifted into an unfamiliar stance and he countered Kaden's next strike with a move that was completely foreign to the one he had been using before and similar to the one Kaden was using. 

Karid had been surprised when Kaden shifted styles on him and had been hard pressed to defend himself against the unfamiliar fighting style. Then just like that, he felt his feet slide into an unfamiliar stance and his body seemed to realign itself without thought from him and then he was countering Kaden's next stroke in a move he didn't even know he knew. For the next part of the fight Karid was running on instinct. He didn't fight it but let his body move as it felt fit. After a bit he felt like he began to remember the moves, remembered what he was supposed to do next, what the footwork was like. He slowly went of the drive of instinct and returned to careful, calculated fighting. Then Kaden shifted styles on him again.
Once again Karid was battered back for a bit before his body reacted again, this time faster than before. His feet shifted first again and then he was fighting again in another style in which it was easier to counter Kaden. This time though, Karid remembered this style and regained the upper hand in the battle quickly. They drew apart for a moment and then Kaden grinned at him and attacked. 
Karid actually laughed when he found himself fighting a mixture of all three styles. Kaden was good and mixed the three styles flawlessly. Karid experimented and found that he could mix the styles he knew as well. He cheerfully mixed them. And for a while all his thoughts consisted of were, duck, slash, block, push, step to the side, thrust, dodge, slash ,slash, slash, cut, duck.
Then Kaden kicked at his feet savagely and Karid actually fell but automatically rolled backward and found himself sliding into a stance that was not of the any of the styles he had been using before. No, the voice in his head said and an intense feeling to not fight using that style swept over him. He switched his stance in an instant and countered Kaden's down stroke and then he moved with a speed he had forgotten he had possessed and knocked the sword from Kaden's hand. Kaden looked surprised and then he yielded gracefully. Karid stepped back and they bowed to each other. Then he walked to the edge of the circle in search of water with the words 'still not fast enough' ringing in the back of his head.
To Karid's surprise it appeared he didn't have any more sparring matches and he was allowed to sit on the floor and gulp his water with relish. He tilted his head back to catch the breeze which blew through the training yards and enjoyed it's cool kiss. His tunic was damp with his sweat and stuck to him. He pulled off the headband he was wearing, the one Arnia had made and ran his hands through his also damp hair, letting the wind blow through the strands. The brown curls had darkened with the moister and blew limply in the wind. Karid ran his hands through it a few more time and then re-secured it with the head band. 
Then he settled down on the floor, rubbing irritably at the hint of itching stubble on his chin and watched the soldiers who had returned to practicing. 
About ten minutes later though Yoraed came and hauled him up.
"Where are we going now?" asked Karid. 
"The ranges," said Yoraed, "We all know you can use a bow, but we want to see it again."
Karid shook his head and followed him all the way to outside the actual city, to where the archery ranges were, with targets set up at varying distances. Karid noticed that the archers who were in the buildings at the training yards were now here, apparently innocently practicing. He let a small smile flicker over his face. For some reason he found their presence very hilarious. When they were there, Karid was handed a typical bow and it's string. He strung it carefully and then selected an arrow from a quiver, fitted it in the string and fired at the closet target. It stuck dead center. He picked another arrow and fired at the second closet target. He continued to methodically increase the distance of each shot, even as he tried to feel out the bow. Back at the river, when he was shooting, he hadn't had time to feel out anything. But now as he wasn't in danger, he could feel the way the bow felt unsettled in his hand. He could use it. It fit his hand because it was a bow and he felt like it was a weapon he knew well. Yet it felt...well... off. Like it wasn't the right weight, the tension he was accustomed to wasn't there either and he felt like he was overcompensating for the recoil. At the same time, none of that affected his aim in the slightest so he had to assume he was accustomed using this type of bow as well as whatever type of bow he may have used in the past. When Arlad was satisfied with what he had seen, he took away the bow from Karid and handed him a longbow. Karid instantly felt more at home with that bow. It still wasn't right, but it was closer to what he felt comfortable with.

Yoraed watched, once more in awe, as Karid made the longbow sing. His shots were swift and sure and made with deadly precision. He hit the bull’s-eye every time, no matter how far away. Then after he shot the furthest target on range, Karid tilted the bow further up again and straining, had pulled the bow as far back as he could and angled it carefully and released the shot. The first thing Yoraed had been surprised at was the fact that the shot had gone out, not straight up, as he had thought it would form the precarious angle it had been in. His next surprise came when the arrow landed some feet after the furthest target. He turned to see Karid grin smugly and shook his head. 
"You had to didn't you?" he asked him. Karid grinned back at him.
"Why not?" he asked quirking an eyebrow. Yoraed simply shook his head again. 
By that time it was almost mid-morning and he was getting hungry again. When Karid's stomach gave an alarming growl he laughed. 
"Come on Nivarn," he said, "I'm hungry too." Karid narrowed his eyes at his stomach as if he was annoyed at it for selling him out and then shrugged and followed Yoraed in search of a second breakfast. 

17: Chapter 17

 
Late that night, Yoraed and his inner circle convened. Yoraed waited until they were all seated and attentive.

"So, " he said, "I've come to a decision I need to make and I'd like you all to help me." The others nodded slowly. Yoraed paused for a moment and then said, "What to do with him? I mean, we could send him away but frankly I don't want to and that seems, well, not nice. What I want to know is, what do we let him do here? We can't possibly keep him in the Alcinad forever." He paused again and then amended his last statement, "He won't stay in the Aclinad forever. There is a limit to every man's patience and his must surely come to an end. And I don't think he'll settle for wandering aimlessly around either."

Irana observed him and then said, "You already have an idea." 

Yoraed grimaced. "It's not one you'll like. Any of you."

Kaden sighed. "You mean to let him be with the soldiers."

Yoraed looked at Arlad who was giving him a black look. He looked to Irana. She had her lips paused and she certainly didn't look pleased. Yoraed sighed.

"He's a fighter," he said, "He's always restless and needs to move. Well, when he's not reading. Besides, what best place to have him? He'll be surrounded by the people who are best equipped to stop him."

"Except that he beat all of your best," Kaden pointed out. "Perhaps if more than one of the soldiers attack, they'll take him down," said Yoraed. 

"That may be true," said Irana, "and it is the best place to have him but for one singular and profound reason. You, my prince, will be there." Yoraed winced.

"I know," he said, "But what else do we do with him?"

"Anything," answered Jenid, "So long as he's away from the royal family which does include you. We do not want to suffer the loss of our crown prince. In our position, with the rumors, it would be most unwise."

"A shame though," said Dirida. Everyone looked at her. "I know we don't want him to harm anyone. But you said that he is military trained and a good strategist. With the rumors, wouldn't it be best if we exploited what he knew? Keep him happy with what he's clearly most comfortable doing, and exploit what he knows for our benefit. Just be doubly vigilant." Irana and Arlad opened their mouths to refute what she said when Nraed cut in first.

"Well, cousin, how do you feel about being bait?"

"I'm already bait," Yoraed said.

"How about being bait in a more dangerous situation?"

Arlad started,"Nraed," but Nraed cut him off with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"Look," he said, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table, "If he exposes himself we be rid of him early."

"And Yoraed will be dead," said Arlad poisonously.

"Keep them as far apart as possible during the patrols then," said Nraed, "Look, Yoraed is probably the safest person there anyway. Even if he does stab him, he can fake a pretty convincing death."

"Nivarn would most likely kill out the whole parole if he can," said Arlad, "and the soldiers would fight."

"I know," said Nraed coolly. Yoraed went pale as he took in the implications and opened his mouth but Nraed, seeing him, reached over and placed his hand over his mouth. "Listen," he said. Yoraed scowled but didn't struggle. "I know the soldiers aren't dispensable. But they are more dispensable than you. We only have one prince." Yoraed said something which was muffled by Nraed's hand.  "I know I’m there too," Nraed told him, "But you're the true prince. You're more of a direct descendant of the dynastic line than I am. We need a prince more and your soldiers would die for you, it's what they're trained to do." Yoraed peeled Nraed's hand from his mouth.

"I don't want them to die for me!" he said, "Not like that, not for a ruse or just for me!"

"I know," said Nraed, "but they will." he looked at Kaden and Arlad, "Ask them." Yoraed looked at them. 

"I will die for you, Your Majesty," said Kaden simply, "No matter what the circumstances." Arlad simply nodded. Yoraed sighed and dropped his head on the table. 

"I don't want anyone dying for this," he said, his voice once more muffled.

"Well, we'll certainly try not to die," Kaden assured him, "Besides Nivarn is practical, I think. Even if he does try to kill you, if he believes that he has succeeded he may just cut and run."

"He may prefer to kill us rather than have us pursue him," said Arlad. 

"But he may not think we will," Kaden argued back, "Our reputation of being from Golboroth will help us. He'll expect us to try to save the Prince."

"In that case, he'll probably be more likely to lop of my head, to make sure," said Yoraed dryly.

Before anyone else could say anything though, Inrid spoke up, "It strikes me, that he hasn't attempted to kill our Prince or King yet. He could quite have easily done it at the river. In fact he needn't have saved Yoraed at all. It points out that he may have a different purpose. Suppose he is here for information? Those medical books that he doesn't keep his hands off? I don't know what they hope to find but it may, perhaps, be better if he is kept out of the city, away from the books or the castle."

"Or," said Jenid, "they could just want him captured." "That presents a problem as it throws Kaden's argument right out the window and Nraed's," said Irana.

"At least I'll be alive," said Yoraed. "With how much chance of us finding you?" she said, "Don't be stupid." Yoraed raised his eyebrows but settled back in his chair. "The question," said Irana, "is whether we let him or not. There are good reasons for either choice. Dirida has a point though. The viscecrals and lodocates haven't been the only attacks and all the attacks have increased. Nivarn's knowledge may help. So how about this? We let him go. We let Yoraed go as well for the first two or three times. Then we let him out on his own. Keep him on separate patrols. He'll be away from the city and away from the royal family. Anything we lose wouldn't be irreplaceable." Yoraed tilted his head and considered.

"I rather like having him where I can see him," he said. "And there he can see you," said Jenid. "I'll go with him," said Kaden, "That would solve things. I know he won't be as open with me but we have spoken before, maybe I can work on that." Yoraed sighed and nodded.

"Where we put him through? I know the soldiers wouldn't want him in the barracks and honestly we might need that room in the Aclinad."

"I think," said Inrid, "that there is a really tiny room in the back of the Aclinad that we don't use. It's about the size of a room in the barracks. We could stick him in there."

Yoraed considered and then nodded. Then he looked at Arlad. "Arlad?"

Arlad looked back at him for a moment and then said, "Those first two or three times are going to be the worst. You had better be careful."

Yoraed smiled and nodded.  "I will," he said. He thought for a moment more and then said, "I'll speak to the soldiers tomorrow. The next day we'll start bringing him into the yard. Next week, if it works, we'll try a patrol." The others nodded in acquiescence and then they got up and left. 

Yoraed sat for a while staring at the table and then said to Nraed who was still there, "You never said what you saw."

Nraed chuckled softly. "To be honest," he said, "I'm not quite sure. I know he didn't like me at first. That handshake he gave me rattled my teeth even though it didn't look like that. Then he certainly didn't like me while we spoke. But as for him. Hmmm. There is more there. I supposed if he hadn't lost his memory, they would be clear. Reading people is easy for me. Their eyes tell more than they know. But Nivarn's? Some things were easy to see, but others.... It like some things that had been fixed were broken and some things he learnt, he doesn't quite remember so well." Nraed paused, struggled, trying to find some way to explain what he had seen. "Almost like if he were two different persons."

Yoraed's eyebrows raised. "How could that be?" he asked.  Nraed stood up and went over to him. He cupped his chin in his hand and tilted his head until he could look him in the eyes.  "Yoraed Jerisha," he said softly, "I can pinpoint a time when you became almost like two persons, your past and your present." Yoraed stiffened. He knew the time all too well.  "You changed," said Nraed, "but not as violently as Nivarn. Or not as completely. He changed. And that change, along with the memory loss, had blurred some things. His past, I think, is more complicated than we can imagine. But experiences make up a man, as your father said." He paused for a moment contemplatively.

"What did you see?" asked Yoraed.

"A good man," said Nraed. "He has his faults of course. But he is loyal, strong, has a good heart and probably has a big sense of humor. I can't imagine him hurting anyone he cares about. And he does care about you, prince. But at the same time, he is a man who will do what he must, no matter how much he detests it. He bleeds inside. The only thing that stops those wounds from eating him alive is the knowledge that this was something he had to do for the good of everyone else. But the very fact that he was doing it for other people...Well, it sort of says he isn't bad. Unless of course the people who he was doing whatever he had done for, were bad. But Yoraed," here Nraed stopped. Yoraed waited for him to start. "Have you ever known someone who is human, with all the faults of a person yet.......unable to be evil?"  Nraed collapsed back into his chair. "He's not evil," he said flatly, finally, "I know there are good men who do bad things. And he'll do bad things but only to help people. But at the same time, it'll never poison him, never cause him to tip over to actually being bad. At least, that's the way it seems to be now."

Yoraed said, "Is that why you're so willing to throw me into a worse bait position?"

Nraed nodded, "I don't think he'll harm you." He paused again then said, "I could see why you trust him. He shouldn't be trusted. But my gut says that he should."

He looked at Yoraed and Yoraed looked back at him.  "I'm trusting you," he said softly.

Nraed flinched but held his gaze. "Don't my Prince," he said hoarsely.

"You were trying to teach me a lesson tonight," Yoraed told him, "Take it for yourself. Because if I die, you'll need to know what it's like when someone dies on your words." Nraed tightened his jaw and nodded slightly. Yoraed got up, squeezed Nraed's shoulder and then headed for the door.

He was almost through it when Nraed got up suddenly and said: "Prince!" he stopped and looked back at him.

"Don't. Die!" he ground out.

Yoraed smiled. "Believe me," he said, "I'll try really, really hard not to." Then he turned and left the room and headed back to his chambers. 

 

For the next month and a half Karid enjoyed an unexpected freedom. He had been, to his surprise, pretty much inducted into Golboroth's army. Without actually being inducted, though. It had started off simply by letting him into the training yards and letting him mingle with the soldiers there. When they had all gotten accustomed to him, they let him go with them on little patrols around the city. Then the patrols began to go further and further away, into more of Golboroth. Yoraed had been there for the first few times but then he stopped coming with them and apparently went with other patrols.

Karid understood that. In fact he understood that the whole thing was probably just to get him away from the prince and anyone in the royal family, probably, but he didn't care. He was just glad to get out.  He integrated well with the soldiers and while he knew they were secretly still suspicious of him, he also knew some of them also had begun to like him. He worked well in the groups and although patrols were boring, just being out under the sun and being on a horse, with an actual sword strapped around his waist, made him better. He felt more at home and comfortable like this, with these hard rugged men who were trained soldiers through and through. They bickered with each other and teased him when they could and Karid was fine with that. He had to admit, he had a lot to be teased about.

Like the fact that he didn't seem to like saddles, or the fact that he spoke to his horse almost continuously and spoke to it like it would actually answer him back. Then there was the fact that he spoke any animal he could. They teased him about his hair, which while getting to its original length, wasn't very attractive. They teased him also saying his hair would get him in trouble in battle. They teased him when he had begged Yoraed to let him forge his own sword, were openly doubtful he could actually do it and were properly admiring when he brought out the final product: a long sword, with a wrapped leather hilt, with designs on the side of the exposed parts of the hilt, with a slightly thicker blade than they had but still with a little flexibility and razor sharp. When Karid had swung the blade for them, it had made music with the air.

They were impressed with his skill though and often asked for him to teach them how he did something or the other. He taught them what he felt like teaching them, and also sparred with Kaden, who was also in his patrol, (and whom he knew was not there by chance), and tried to learn his styles. 

When he was back in Reclinobash, he usually helped Inrid and the others make salves and potions after he had, by mistake, discovered he was rather good at it, on a particularly boring evening. They watched carefully when he did though. One of them literally sat and stared at him. But Karid didn't mind, he had gotten used to being stared at. In fact it even felt a bit familiar. As if all the staring had awakened some old feeling of being stared at. He supposed with his appearance, he might have been stared at regularly. 

Either that or he just went to sleep in his tiny, broom closet of a room, he had been moved too. Not that he minded the room either. He did mind the bed though. The ground was softer than that thing. But all in all he quite enjoyed himself. 

It was midway into his second month with the army, when they took a patrol to the very edge of Golboroth's territory. This was where Golboroth met the forest that covered half of the land on this side of the mountains. When they reached there around midday they set up camp at a small stronghold there.  Later that evening Karid stood with Yoraed who had come on this patrol with them, at the top of the stronghold, gazing at the mountains and in particular, the Pass. The one and only pass through the mountains. You could see it from where they stood but there were perhaps days of travel through the Fringe before you could get there. 

"You must have come through there,” Yoraed told him, "Although I don't know how you made it all the way to somewhere outside of Reclinobash if you were as poisoned as you were."

"I don't know how I made it through the mountains in the first place," Karid told him, not looking away from the mountains.

"Point," said Yoraed, half his attention still on the mountains. Just then Karid noticed something.

"What's that?" he said. Yoraed looked to where he was pointing. 

"I don't know," he answered, frowning. The soldiers who were on the roof, on duty, looked too. Karid frowned and focused. Movement. A lot of it. Something was coming through the Fringe. Something that was now showing itself as it got out of the deeper cover of the Fringe. Actually it was more than one thing. It was many things. Yoraed shouted for the soldiers to be on guard. He himself turned to go down the stairs and join the soldiers on the outer wall of the stronghold but Karid, driven by some instinct he didn't understand, reached out and snagged his sleeve.

"No," he told him firmly, still looking at the Fringe, "You stay here." He felt Yoraed about to protest and said, "I'm staying here with you."  He turned his head to see Yoraed shut his mouth in shock. He let him see he was serious and then turned back to watching the Fringe. 

They stood together on the top of the stronghold and watched as huge wolf-like creatures came out of the Fringe. There were what seemed like thousands of them. They headed in their direction. Yoraed shouted for the archers to fire but Karid shouted for them to stop. Yoraed spun to look at him and Karid could see the suspicion in his eyes. 

"They're not going to attack," he said.

"What?!" said Yoraed. 

"They're not going to attack," Karid repeated. "Look. If they were, they'd be running. They aren't. They're just walking. "

Yoraed glanced briefly and said tersely, "They're still coming towards us."

Karid said, "Wait."

Yoraed just looked at him for a moment and then turned to give the orders to shoot. Karid grabbed his arm and spun him back to face him. Around him the guards instantly moved forward and then stopped when they saw he wasn't going to hurt Yoraed.

"Trust me," said Karid. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Karid said, "I don't know how I do, but they aren't going to attack us." He glanced at the creatures and then added, "Right now at least."

"That's comforting," Yoraed said. 

"Prince, right now we don't have the people to withstand an attack from a force this large," Karid told him.

"This is a stronghold," Yoraed told him.

"And arrows won't work," Karid said. And then he felt his face go still. He tried frantically to remember where he had learnt that but nothing came. Yet Karid knew it to be true. He snapped out of his inner reverie to see Yoraed looking at him.

"Let me guess," he said, "You don't remember." Karid sighed and shook his head.

  "Prince!" called one of the archers frantically. Yoraed glanced at Karid and then the horde of creatures looking torn. Finally he said: "Hold!"  Karid heard the guards on the roof suck in their breaths. Yoraed stood next to Karid rigid. Karid stood next to him, not quite as rigid, watching the creatures. But when they came close to the stronghold they simply turned and continued walking alongside it. Karid let out a silent breath of relief. Yoraed's sigh of relief was much more audible. 

They watched as the thousands of the wolf-like creatures streamed past and entered the forest further down. Then Karid noticed something different. He nudged Yoraed and jerked his head to show him what he was looking at. They both stared at the rider as he cantered out of the forest, in the middle of the horde of creatures. He was dressed in black and rode on a humongous black horse. A hood concealed his face, had they been able to see it from this distance. He was obviously in command of the beasts.  Everyone watched in silence as he drew near to the stronghold, with the light of the setting sun, sending him into a silhouette. Yoraed didn't order anyone to shoot him and neither did any of the garrison captains. Karid understood why though. From the man an aura of power flowed. Despite the distance he was from them, they all felt it. It was an aura of evil, unspeakable power and most of all, death. It swirled thickly around them, almost as cloying as the true scent of a bloody battlefield. It was hard to concentrate. Hard to think, to react, to do anything but stare at him. He noticed in a detached way the Yoraed was actually shaking. 

Yoraed and Karid stood on the top of the stronghold, following him with their eyes. When he drew level with the stronghold, he turned his head to look at all of them and Karid felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Besides him, he heard Yoraed and the guards gasp. Then the man turned back his head and continued on into the forest.  They all stood there, as if frozen, until all the creatures that came after him, had disappeared into the forest.

When they were gone, Yoraed said shakily,  "Who was that?"

And Karid answered mechanically, "A Dark Lieutenant."

 

18: Chapter 18

The rest of the night was spent fortifying the stronghold, setting up more expansive patrols and various shifts. Messengers were chosen and quickly sent off to Reclinobash and to the other cities. Karid, like the other soldiers, worked at whatever they were ordered to do, but he could sense a wariness from them again, that had been disappearing slowly over time. Word of what had happened on the roof, must have spread. Karid however, for the most part, ignored it in favor of trying to figure out who and what a Dark Lieutenant was as well as trying to sort out the feelings that the arrival of the man had stirred up within him. He had the feeling like he knew the information to make the connection and that it was something simple, but he just couldn't figure it out. When he finally bedded down after his shift, he still hadn't remembered.

The next morning however, not to his surprise, Karid was summoned to Yoraed. They met in an old conference room, which had nothing but a huge stone table and a few chairs. Yoraed was sitting in one of the chairs on the far side to the room to the door. He gave Karid a faint smile and said wryly, "Leave the door ajar will you?" Karid grinned and did so, knowing that it was to humour the guards outside. Then he sat on the opposite side of the table and looked at Yoraed, waiting for him to speak. Yoraed looked a lot better that he had the night before, in that he was no longer pale and shaking but he looked like a heavy burden had fallen on his shoulders. Karid didn't blame him. War was never a thing to take lightly.

Yoraed studied Karid a moment and then said, "What do you know of our creation story."

Karid titled his head at the topic and searched through his brain.

"I know it," he said finally.

"Good," said Yoraed, "Tell it to me." Karid raised an eyebrow but then obliged, knowing that this was going somewhere. He sat up straight in his chair and began reciting in the accepted storyteller's voice.

"Before all things there was the Maker. And the Maker made companions whom he called Shapers. And all things were made by the Maker and they were shaped according to his will by his Shapers so that all assumed the shape and purpose that the Maker desired. Long did the Maker and his Shapers worked on our world and finally the Maker declared it was perfect. And all things lived in harmony and great peace and great was the praising of the Maker by his creations. However this time was not to last for one of the Maker's Shapers, saw all that the Maker had and saw all the praise he received and desired it for himself. He desired to be as powerful as his own Maker and so it was that he took in secret, the powers of the world and twisted them together, taking them from the design of the Maker and perverting them into something else which he wielded as a great and terrible power. But nothing can be hidden from the Maker and he called his Shaper and asked him why he did such a thing and his Shaper did answer but strove against the Maker with his twisted power and they battled long in the realm above, the Maker and his Shapers and the Twisted Shaper. But after much battle the Twisted Shaper was cast down from the realm above and into the world below and there he lay defeated for a season. And all things continued in life but not as they were before for the Twisted Shaper's power grew and took root and spread across the land and caused disharmony but total disharmony was not to be for although the power was twisted it had still been made by the Maker and some good still remained."

Here Karid paused and looked at Yoraed to see if to continue.

Yoraed sighed and then said, "You know when you asked me about the enemy that the kingdoms on the other side of the mountains were fighting and I said I’d tell you later?"

Karid nodded. Yoraed said, "Well, actually you're going to tell yourself." Karid tilted his head. "Go straight to the Dark War," Yoraed told him. Karid paused and thought it out and then continued with his story telling.

"And after long centuries, the Twisted Shaper rose again and began to conquer the lands in the place he had fallen. And many more lands fell to his dark power and he was called by the inhabitants, the Dark Lord. And at last he came to the last land of the continent he had landed on and it was called Verasanii. And he took Verasanii and slew all its kings but the people here, although taken unawares, fought back. And all the creatures of the land who were not under the thrall of the Dark Lord fought with them. Long was the war for Verasanii and many were its losses but at last the people rallied under the leaders who had arisen and together they devised a way to defeat the Dark Lord and the commanders of his army, the Dark Lieutenants. The final battle occurred at the gates of Oromac, the Dark Lord's Land, and it was there he was struck down and defeated and all his army scattered and the Dark Lieutenants fell with their master and Verasanii was freed and all the lands who were under the control of the Dark Lord."

He stopped and felt himself go still as he realized all that he had just said. And all the information came together in his head coupled with the feeling he'd had that it was something simple, and he made the connection.

"Oh," he said simply, feeling like he was a little in over his head. That feeling didn't last for long though. It was replaced by another more settled in feeling. The sort of feeling on gets when one has just settled in for a long siege. The kind of acceptance one gets when you have prepared for war and was ready for it. That feeling layered over all the other emotions that had been roiling in him from the night before; the same sort of distaste, he had felt back at the river and an intense hatred that had surprised even him. It layered over them, settled them and held them in check with practiced ease and left him with a calm, cool, logical and frighteningly, analytical mind.

He looked at Yoraed and saw that he had noticed the change in him. They stared at each other for a moment and the Karid said, "If that is true, and I think it is, then you know what is coming then."

Yoraed's jaw tightened. "Yes," he said simply, almost bloodlessly, “War."

"War," Karid agreed, "But not just any type of war. This is war the likes of

which you have never seen or really heard about. Because this isn't just a war against men, this is a war against creatures like the visicecrals and lodocates and one where they'll be organized. And this is a war that's going to be backed by magic. Because the Dark Lieutenant is most certainly magical."

Yoraed's head shot up at the last two statements. "How did you know he had magic?!" he asked, frowning at Karid. Karid frowned back.

"Didn't everyone feel it?" he asked.

Yoraed stared at him and then shook his head slowly. He stared at him again. "You mean to tell me you can sense magic?" Karid nodded slowly.

"Okay,' he said, "I'm guessing, not everyone does?"

"No," said Yoraed, "For a non-magical person to sense magic, they have to spend a lot of time around it to develop a sensitivity to it. I can sense it, because as part of my training as a healer I had to spend time around healers who had magic. But," he broke off, studying Karid, "then that means you must have spent a lot of time around magic."

Karid searched his memory and came up blank. He shook his head. "I can't remember," he said.

Yoraed frowned. "I didn't expect you could sense it," he said finally, "Magic users are rare."

Karid shrugged. "Another one of my mysteries," he said carelessly but inside he quickly filed away the bit of information for him to think on later because he didn't think he had spent time with someone with magic because magic didn't bring up a good feeling for him.

Then Yoraed frowned. "Of course being that magic users are rare it will be difficult to fight a war backed with magic as strong as the Dark Lieutenant's but we do have a fair set on this side on the mountains and some are above average. Surely that would even out the war?"

Karid just stared at him and then said slowly, "Jerisha," he paused and sought how to phrase it, "we won't be using magic on our side."

"Why?" as Yoraed frowning.

"Because magic is bad." The words just tumbled out of Karid's mouth.

Yoraed looked surprised and then said, "No, it isn't. It can be used for ill but,"

Karid cut him off. "It's bad."

Yoraed tried to speak but Karid cut him off again with a single shake of his head.

Yoraed leaned back in his chair and studied Karid frankly. Finally he asked with a note of incredulity, "Are you a magic hater?"

Karid considered the intense rage which had been roiling inside him since the night before, and which he was barely keeping in check, that had reared up in response to the word 'magic', and answered calmly, "Yes, I think so."

Yoraed blinked at him owlishly a few times and then collected himself.

"Okay...But just because you don't like magic doesn't mean we can't use it," he began. But Karid, holding tightly to his temper, shook his head again.

"I," he began, paused and then tried again, "I don't know how, but, but it...it...you can't." He shook his head again. "When I think about it Jerisha, it doesn't even enter my head as a resource for war. And that's when I’m thinking about it detachly, not with my emotions clouding my judgment. You can't use magic, because magic is bad, in the sense that it’s not going to do any good for our side." He stopped and looked at Yoraed.

 

Yoraed sat silently, trying to take in everything and shifting through Karid's words. He really didn't think of it as a resource. He honestly thought it was bad, no, he knew it. He did really hate it, though. For some reason the depth of his hatred, had been shown in how calmly he had had announced himself as a magic hater. The very calmness had told him, the same way Karid's lack of expression told him, more than his expressions. Karid loathed magic for reasons of his own, but his practical side, the analytical, war strategist, knew that it wasn't good, beyond those reasons.

The realization did not make Yoraed feel better because if Karid was right, if they did have to fight an enemy backed by magic, without any magical backing of their own, it was not going to be pretty and it was not going to be easy.

He looked up at Karid who was waiting patiently for a reaction.

"We'll think about it," he said finally, drumming his fingers on the table "We will need verification of this before we act."

Karid considered and then nodded. Then he looked straight at Yoraed and asked, "Are you alright?"

Yoraed looked at him and felt something sink inside of him that he had been trying to keep afloat. He knew it showed on his face.

"War is coming," he said hoarsely and dropped his head on the table. Karid gave him a sympathetic look.

"I thought so," he said. He got up, came around the table and stooped next to him and held up one hand. Yoraed turned his head to see him, eyed the hand, hesitated and then sat up and clasped it.

"Breathe Prince," Karid told him, "Square your shoulders and think about it as a very unpleasant task the you have to get through in the fastest time possible, with the least amount of loss."

"It's not that simple!" Yoraed told him, voice even hoarser.

"No," agreed Karid, “Not that simple and certainly not easy. And nothing anyone will tell you can prepare you for what is going to come. But you have to get through it, You have to bear through it more than most people because you are a prince and your people will look to you. They'll need you to be strong and for you to be okay, because just knowing you're there and you're okay will make them feel better. But you don't have to bear it alone, either Prince. You have your inner circle of people right? They'll help you."

"And who'll help them?" asked Yoraed. Who'll hold them up?"

Karid gave him a wry smile, "The path of the ruler is hard," he said, "And kings can only fall in secret places and then only for as long as it takes to shed a few tears and to wipe away those tears and stand again." Yoraed stared at him, feeling something akin to despair and terror. But then Karid grinned a him and said, "Fortunately, I know something that might conquer that old saying."

"And that is?!" said Yoraed, feeling distressed.

Karid thwacked him lightly on the head with his free hand, "Your people, Prince. You do it all for your people and their happiness is what will hold you up." Yoraed blinked in surprise and then the knot of dark feelings inside him unwound and slipped away. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

 

Karid watched as the tension slid away from Yoraed and saw the moment when he got over the overwhelming terror of what was coming and began to think clearly again, instead of moving on autopilot like he probably had been doing since last night. He took several more deep breaths and then opened his eyes and looked at Karid. Conversely this time it was Karid who was startled because the person who was looking at him wasn't quite the person he had known during his time here.

The person who was looking back at him was Yoraed Jerisha, Prince of Golboroth. It was the first melding of Yoraed's two sides that Karid had ever seen, and the person, the prince, that he was seeing, was formidable. Oh, he was still afraid, Karid could see it in his eyes, but he could see the determination to do what he must to protect his people and his land, the steely calm that came from his years as a soldier and also he saw something else that he couldn't describe, but whatever it was, it made you understand why men would follow him into battle and trust his word.

Karid suddenly had a newfound respect for the Golborothan Prince. He grinned at him and then inclined his head in respect, "Prince Yoraed," he said.

He saw the surprise on Yoraed's face and then he grinned in acknowledgment. Then as quickly as it had happened, he slipped back to being just Yoraed Jerisha again and he thwacked back Karid's head in return.

Karid snorted and stood and pulled Yoraed up with their still clasped hands. They stood for a moment with their hands still gripped between them, eyes locked and something that Karid couldn't define passed between them.

Then they dropped their hands and simultaneously turned to look at the door.

"I suppose," Karid told him, "that we should go outside now, before your guards do barge into the room."

Yoraed sighed, "They almost did three times."

Karid grinned, "I know."

Yoraed shot him a look, obviously, wondering how he knew, considering his back was to the door and then Karid saw him decide not to bother.

"Come on," Yoraed said, "We have a lot of things to do and a long ride back to Reclinobash."

 

19: Chapter 19

 
It was late in the evening when they entered Reclinobash, three weeks after they had set out from the stronghold. The ride had been long and grueling, and Karid didn't know a person among the party who didn't look like they wanted to fall over. He didn't blame them. Sleep had been minimum, and they had changed horses at every possible chance to keep going as quickly as possible. He himself was tired but he was apparently dealing with it better than most people, in that he wasn't swaying in the hated saddle as much as the others. 

Once inside the city, fresh guards came and escorted the Prince directly to the palace and allowed those of the original party to stumble their way to the barracks. Karid didn't envy Yoraed at the moment. He couldn't go to sleep. As prince he was most likely heading straight into council with the king and his advisors, etc.  Karid decided to forgo the rush for the baths at the barracks and instead commandeered one at the healing rooms. He was surprisingly allowed to. At least, he was allowed to with minimal grumbling. He had his bath and then crashed into his bed, in his tiny room, with the intent of having as much sleep as  possible.

He woke up late the next day, much to his own surprise. He groaned from the pains inflicted on him by his bed and got up and went in search of dinner in the barracks. Upon arrival in the barracks, he discovered that was the first of those who had made the ride, to get up for the day. The rest were still sleeping. Karid wasn't surprised at that. The ride had been very harsh. 

He finished his dinner and went to the healing rooms to see if there was anything for him to do. He was put to work with the apprentices, making salves for various ailments. As usual there someone who was watching him while he worked and Karid routinely ignored him. But he could sense a difference in the air while he worked. The normally carefree atmosphere the Aclinad acquired while it's students worked was not there. The students themselves were less talkative, less inclined to discuss this method or that herb. They were extremely focused on their tasks and over time whatever conversation there had been in the room died down, leaving heavy silence. 

They were worried, Karid realized. They had heard the rumors, perhaps had heard the real truth and they were worried, perhaps a little scared. And it wasn't just the students, it was the other healers themselves, although they kept themselves under more control. They were healers, they were supposed to give hope, to keep a situation under control. They weren't supposed to panic. 

As he continued working with the students though, he realized that their focus on their tasks was not only a product of their worry but was also a product of their practicality. If what they suspected was true, if war really might be coming, then it was time to buckle down and go to work. They'd need these salves and a thousand others, in humongous quantities, if they had to possibly treat casualties form a war.

Karid found himself holding them with deep respect. These healers were as brave as many soldiers he had met. Probably more so, as their job was going to be much harder, and was going to take more out them. For it was easy to kill a man, much harder to save his life, yet here they were already steeling themselves up for a task that was in no way going to be easy, nor pleasant. It made him, as a soldier, feel small in comparison, and he was suddenly glad that he had the ability to help them, even though it was in a very small way.  When he finally left them, late at night, they were still going on.

 

Yoraed Jerisha stood by his window, staring outside, unseeingly. His fingers drummed a random pattern on the windowsill whist he thought. His cousin, seated cross-legged on his bed, watched him worriedly but said nothing.

At last Yoraed said, without turning, "Will you back me up?"

"If you ask?" replied Nraed, "Yes."

Yoraed said nothing. Nraed looked at his back and then added, "So will Kaden, I think."

Yoraed's head snapped around in surprise. "Kaden?"

"Yes," affirmed Nraed.

"Why?" asked Yoraed.  Nraed snorted.

"Give him some credit, Yoraed. Like his father's people, he is more perceptive than most. And like his father, he has found that crossing blades with a person tells you much more than you'd think." Yoraed smiled. Both he and Nraed had been under the tutelage of Kaden's father for some time. "And Kaden has honed that skill, along with others," Nraed continued, "You know that."

Yoraed sighed. "Well, I don't know what he has found out," he said softly. "And even if it is good, we'll still have Irana, Inrid, Arlald, Jenid and Dirida against us."

"And you are the Prince," pointed out Nraed, "And they have never had reason to doubt your word before." Yoraed gave a frustrated sigh.

"Did I ever tell you that this is hard?"

"Making decisions that affect the lives of thousands of people?" Nraed said, "You don't have to." Yoraed glared at him and Nraed smiled back. 

"I will back you up though," he said more seriously, "We'll just have to see how this plays out now. There's no time for second guessing after this though cousin. Once you've made this choice, we either stay intact or we all die."

"I know," said Yoraed, "May the Maker watch over us all." 

 

Karid was just thinking about going to bed the next night when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find one of Irana's people standing there who informed him that the prince was summoning him and that he was to escort him to the meeting place. Karid shiftted through the man's words in seconds, determined that he wasn't lying and nodded his assent. He followed the man on a route that avoided all the patrols and guards, all the way into the castle and down a long winding route to a part of the castle that looked very unused and finally left him at a particulary non-descript door. The man nodded at the door and disappeared into the shadows. Karid watched him go and then knockedd lightly on the door. 

"Come in," came Yoraed's voice quietly. Karid opened the door and stepped onto the threshold of the room and scanned the inside. It was not so different from the coucil room at the stronghold, save that it was much more cared for. It had a large table and several chairs, all of which were occupied, save one. In the chairs were Irana, Arlad, Kaden, Yoraed, Nraed, and a man and a woman, whom he didn't know. It didn't take him long to figure out what this was: a meeting of Yoraed's inner circle. There was absolute silence in the room. 

He fixed his eyes on Nraed. "I should have known," he told him, with a smile breaking the silence. Nraed returned the smile.

"I'm sure you did," he said.

Karid grinned at him. "The possibilities were between the king and the prince." Yoraed snorted.

"Sit down," he told him. 

Karid made his way to the empty seat between Nraed and Kaden and sat gracefully. Yoraed sat up and rested his hands on the table.

"Nivarn," he said, "I would like you to meet the rest of my advisors." Karid gave a slight nod. "You know most of them I think. Therefore let me introduce you to the rest. The lady is Dirida Tralence, and the man is Jenid Andai."

Karid recognized the lady. She was the one in green, Irana had been speaking to during the celebratory feast. The man he didn't recognize.

"My pleasure," he said smoothly to them. 

"As is ours," they replied just as smoothly. Karid nodded to them and then fixed his gaze back to Yoraed. To his surprise Yoraed leaned forward on his elbows and locked gazes with him. In his eyes held single question.

Karid narrowed his eyes and then asked, "Do you trust me?"

The Prince of Golboroth said solemnly, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't. But as it is with all my people trust is lost with treachery. Choose your answer carefully. If you do intend to hurt my people, refuse. My wrath is not something even you should test." 

Karid held that old, old gaze and then said just as solemnly, "I gave you my word Prince, that I would not hurt you or your family. You can be assured that I will not betray your confidence."

Yoraed studied Karid with his old world eyes and then said, "I'll hold you to that."

"Gladly,"Karid told him. They stared at each other for moment more and then they both turned to the rest of the table. 

"Well," said Jenid, " now that that's out of the way. We can discuss what we really came here for." Karid and Kaden grinned and Yoraed just sighed. 

"Yes," Yoraed, "I suppose we could." And just like that Karid found himself in the middle of his first official council meeting. 
 

20: Chapter 20

The council meeting was one of many that occurred over the next month, for their diagnosis was correct. War had come to their lands. It started off simple at first. People living closest to the forest borders complained of their lands starting to dry up despite a perfectly reasonable amount of water present, other parts of the land found their wells drying up despite frequent rainfall. Then the lodocates began to attack again. There were scattered viscecral attacks along the rivers. Strange little winged creatures swooped in out of nowhere in a small village and began to attack the villagers. It was only by dint of much good shooting on the part of the archers that they were ever driven off. Farmers also reported that the number of poisonous plants in their fields was increasing exponentially. All of this happened in the space of a week. Then things had really gotten serious with the appearance of the gigantic worms. They had suddenly erupted out of a typical field growing a good crop of some herb or the other, and had killed and eaten all the workers and then had steadily begun to work their way across the other fields. 

Yoraed, Karid, Arlad and Kaden had all been part of the battalion of soldiers which had been dispatched to deal with the worms. Unfortunately the worms were not so easy to deal with. They had erupted out of the earth beneath their feet and snatched soldiers up, burrowed tunnels beneath them and came up behind their lines. They had skin like steel and rows upon rows of sharp vicious teeth which had shredded more than one squad of solders. It was Karid who had finally come up with the idea of using pesticides. They had dug large pits far away from the worms’ current position and filled it with the pesticides and let it seep into the earth. Meanwhile they also sprayed the worms with it as best they could. Eventually the worms came up to where the pits were and after sometime the pesticide within the worms built up enough to give a lethal dose and the worms all died within a few days after hitting the pits. But by that time several days worth of land was ruined, and most of a battalion gone. Then right on the heels of that, the huge wolf like creatures had destroyed those villagers near to the forest and the stronghold they had been at when they had first seen the Dark Lieutenant, had been overrun and all within it killed. Then reports came in that the soldiers who had been left at the river bend to defend against the river bend had been attacked by large flying creatures with huge claws, thin and as sharp as swords. More reports about the same flying creatures and many other strange things came in from the northern side of Golboroth, the side that ran alongside the Fringe. 

Yoraed, Arlad, Karid and all the other commanders in Golboroth's army spent most of their time coming up with plans for each attack and strategizing on the best ways to protect their borders. Karid found himself caught up in what seemed like a thousand little skirmishes as he travelled around Golboroth in an attempt to help defend the land that had taken him in.
Strangely enough Karid felt far more at home in the hectic atmosphere of war than he had ever felt in Golboroth. The camping, the travelling, the shivering on the cold, wet nights, analyzing the lay of the land, scarfing down food whenever you could find time to eat it, even helping to stitch other soldiers all gave him the strangest sense of home and some measure of comfort. Karid had expected it to some extent yet even he had not expected to feel quite so comfortable. Admittedly it frightened him a little. Being a soldier was one thing. Feeling comforted by the sounds of a camp of wounded and tired soldiers was quite another. Not for the first time he wondered who he was and where he had come from but as before, his memory drew a blank no matter what he did. There were times when he got up with the feeling like he had been dreaming memories but they always faded away when he woke up. It was frustrating but Karid didn't have time to be frustrated with himself over something like that. He barely had time to sleep. They all barely had time to sleep. 

When they had finally returned to Reclinobash after coming back from another particularly trying time with the lodocates, a month after the first appearance of the Dark Lieutenant, Yoraed was summoned to meet with the king quickly. A mere fifteen minutes later one of Irana's spies slipped up to Karid and whispered that the prince was summoning him. Karid nodded and the man disappeared. Karid stripped out of his armor first, detoured to the barracks mess hall to snatch something to eat and then made his way to the council room. 
When he entered the others were already there. Kaden was collapsed in a chair chewing on a hunk of bread and cheese, his armor on the floor and his face still covered with dirt and grass streaks. Yoraed, sitting wearily at the table, looked no better. Irana and the others were sitting composedly in their chairs but Karid quickly noted the concern on their faces as they watched him, Yoraed, Arlad and Kaden, all of whom had just returned. Karid crossed the room to the table and held out part of his hunk of bread and cheese to Yoraed. Yoraed gave him a tired smile, took it and munched on it for a bit before he slid a piece of paper across the table to Nraed. Karid glanced at it as Yoraed passed it and raised his eyebrows when he saw the type of paper and the seal on it and realized that it was a royal message such as one kingdom sends to another. 

Nraed took it and scanned the contents and said, "At last."

Karid tilted his head at him. Nraed gave him a half smile and then said "It’s from Salicianarath. They're calling a council of war in five days time."

"Good," said Irana, "It's about time we banded together. The other kingdoms have been as harassed as we are. The forest front is growing unstable."

Karid mentally agreed. He had known that all the other kingdoms had had their fair share of attacks and strange occurrences. Coming together was a wise move. Frankly he had wondered why they hadn't done it before but he hadn't had time to ask and also he hadn't wanted to push his bounds too far. The other commanders of the army had reluctantly allowed him into their war councils but even so they were wary and some were resentful. Karid didn't blame them but he tried to keep a reasonable rapport with them. Suggesting interkingdom alliances however was too big and far too political for him to suggest. So he had left it up to their discretion. 

"Yes," agreed Yoraed, "I suppose that that is why they have decided to call council now." He glanced at Karid and then asked him, "Do you know about the Kingdoms' Treaty of War?"
Karid narrowed his eyes in thought, then shook his head. 

"In times like this, in fact in times of any war that involves the kingdoms," said Nraed, "Salicianarath takes the lead. They are our vanguard and our command point. In interkingdom wars, if they're not participating, they also stand as a neutral point for meetings and treaty making."

Karid tilted his head as he took in this information.

"It makes sense," said Yoraed, "as they are the most war-like of all the kingdoms and they are relatively placed in the middle of the land."

"Salicianarath also has measures that make them the safest country for a command point, so that we don't have to worry about the top command being crashed," Irana told him. Karid nodded but mentally filled away the vagueness of the 'measures’ to inquire about another time. 

"I see," he said. "But the message says that they're calling a war council in five days and Salicianarath is the next country over. And I'm fairly sure it might take a month and some to reach there, even going as fast as we can."

To his surprise Yoraed grinned. "Oh we’ll reach there in five days Nivarn," he said, still grinning. 

"Actually," said Kaden, "We'll probably reach there with time to spare." 

"True," acknowledged Yoraed. Karid stared from one to another with narrowed eyes. Both grinned back innocently. His eyes went down to slits. Yoraed laughed.

"You'll see tomorrow," he promised him, "since you're coming with us."

Irana started. "Are you sure that's wise?" she asked.

"Nope," Yoraed said flatly, "But he's coming anyway."

Irana stared hard at him and then pursed her lips and said nothing. Yoraed regarded her for a moment more and then said to the rest of them, "Arlad and Kaden are coming as well." The others nodded. "We leave in the morning," he continued. Then he looked at Nraed, "You are leaving in the morning as well, right?" Nraed nodded.

Karid looked at Nraed surprised, as he hadn't heard anything about this. Nraed gave his inquiring look a wry smile and told him, "I'm going to my father, the Duke, to help hold the southern border. As Prince Apparent, and heir to the duchy, it's my duty," he continued having apparently seen the gears turning in Karid's brain and anticipated what he was going to ask, "The rest of the captains will hold down the command point here, but the rest of the command will revert to the central point at Salicianarath. And, of course, the king is still here, so no harm done to the country with the prince gone and me off to the border."

Karid nodded, satisfied and Yoraed clapped his hands together drawing their attention. 

"We should get some sleep, we have a tiring day tomorrow." The others got up and left and Karid got up as well, but instead he went to one of the shelves in the council room and traced a finger along the spine of one of the books. It was one of the books in which the history of Verasanaii was written. Soon after the war had started the books had been brought here. The other copies were with the Kings councilors. 

Yoraed watched him silently and waited for him to speak. Karid stood staring at the book and then said, “In the first war, the enemy killed out all of the leaders of the kingdoms of that time, to crush the rebellion before it could really start."

"Yes," said Yoraed.

Karid was silent a minute more, then he spoke again, "Your father is splitting up his heirs to ensure that at least one survives."

Yoraed let out a huff of laughter. "How like you to catch that," he said. "Yes, of course. I'll be in Salicianarath, Nraed on the southern border, and Nraed's bother somewhere else." Karid looked at him in surprise at that. Yoraed smiled briefly. "Yes, he does have a brother. A very little one. The Lady Laeda is still here though." Karid nodded.

"You still have to be efficient," he said.

Yoraed nodded and then made a little shooing motion at him. "Sleep Nivarn," he said, "Your constitution is admirable, but you really are going to need it for tomorrow." Karid frowned and narrowed his eyes at him but Yoraed just smiled sweetly at him and waved goodbye. Still frowning Karid left to get the aforementioned sleep. 

21: Chapter 21

"They're chickens," said Karid. He was standing in the entrance of one of the corridors leading into the castle courtyard, stating at what was currently in the courtyard.

"Nivarn!" said Yoraed exasperated. "They're Avanties!"

"No," said Karid, staring at the creatures, "they're chickens," he said with finality. Yoraed gave an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands. "What do they do?" Karid asked him. Yoraed, shaking his head, started towards the creatures.

"What chickens don't," he threw over his shoulder.

"And that is....?"

"Fly," said Kaden appearing beside Karid. 

Fly?!" asked Karid feeling rather shocked. He looked at the chickens. "They fly?" 

"Yup," said Kaden cheerfully. They both looked over to where Yoraed was now petting one of the chickens. It was nuzzling happily into his hand. "They like to know who is going to fly on them," Kaden told Karid, "so we go and greet them. Besides these are our regulars, so they know us pretty well and they're rather fond of us. As we are of them." he added. He looked at Karid who was still staring at the creatures.

They really did look like oversized chickens, about the size of or a little bigger than a horse. They had slightly longer legs though, and their wings swept back long and graceful along the length of their bodies and then some. They also had fearsome beaks and large brightly coloured eyes. But the eyes were full of a childish happiness and the creatures were nuzzling everyone who came to pet them very affectionately. 

"Come on," said Kaden, "Let's go say hello to ours. We're riding together." Karid nodded and cautiously approached the five chickens with Kaden. Kaden went up to one with blue grey feathers and petted its head and talked to it, saying as how he and his friend were going to ride him today. He let the chicken have a good look at him and then motioned for Karid to come up and talk to it. Karid approached it warily and reached up to pet it. But as he did so the chicken reared back a little and let out a surprised squawk. Then the next thing Karid knew was that he was suddenly being assaulted by a very affectionate chicken. But that wasn't the worst of it. Suddenly all the chickens were surrounding him and nuzzling him with vigorous shows of affection. He heard shouting and the sound of a few blades drawing and then over it, Yoraed's voice shouting for everyone to stop. Silence descended over the courtyard with the exception of the chickens' happy squawks. 

"Nivarn?" came Yoraed's voice cautiously. Karid managed to stick his head out of the bundle of feathers.

"Yes?"

"What did you do?!" he asked exasperatedly Karid, who was being buried under the weight of one chicken head, took a moment before he could stick his head out again.

"I didn't do anything!" he protested.

"You must have done something!" said Yoraed. There was only a muffled grunt from Karid in reply.

Kaden, who had been forced to skip back from the chickens by their sheer bulk said thoughtfully, "I think they like you." 

Karid who at this point in time had ended up on one knee with his arms above his head replied with vicious sarcasm, "You think?" Yoraed and Kaden both stooped down on their haunches to peer at him through the chickens' legs.

"I've never seen them act like this before," said Yoraed sounding somewhere between wonder and awe. Before Karid could reply though, a chicken hooked its head in his middle and nuzzled up hard, sending Karid to his feet and then off it. At this, the chicken Karid was supposed to ride, suddenly interspersed itself between Karid and the other chickens and gave several warning squawks. The other chickens backed away and subsided and soon the whole ordeal was over. Karid gingerly petted his chicken and then escaped to get his bag. 

When he returned to the courtyard though, peace had been established and two of the chickens already had their passengers on their backs. When Yoraed saw him he motioned for him to give him his bag. Karid handed it over and Yoraed secured it to the back of the chicken that was carrying all the luggage. Then Yoraed went over to his chicken and mounted it easily and Arlad mounted behind him. Karid carefully noted how they had mounted the chicken, which was stooping on the ground now, and then went over to his own chicken. Kaden slipped onto the chicken first and then Karid went up after him as if he had been riding chickens all his life. Once he was atop the chicken though he had no idea what to do. 

"Where do we hold on?" he asked Kaden.  "Just bury your hands in the feathers, where it's most comfortable to you," Kaden told him.  Karid stared at his back suspiciously but obeyed. For a moment nothing happened. And then, to Karid's surprised, the feathers on the chicken's back, where his hands were, carefully connected and then, 'zipped' together, effectively locking his hands onto the chicken's back. The chicken shifted a bit, stood up and stretched its wings out. Once their legs were resting on the chicken's side and not its wings, the long side feathers curved over their legs, connected to each other and pinned down their legs to the side. Then the chicken gave a violent wriggle. Karid just stopped himself from giving a startled shout. Once the chicken was satisfied that none of them would fall off, it shifted again and stretched out its wings properly. 

Then Karid heard strange scraping sounds on the floor. He leaned over as far as he could to see what was happening. When he saw what it was, his eyes widened. The short, blunt nails on the end of the chickens' feet were growing out into long, sharp, wickedly curved claws. Once they were grown out, the chickens flexed the claws and then dug them into the hard paving stones of the courtyard. He felt the muscles of the chicken bunch and he instinctively snapped back into an upright position. It was not a moment too soon. With a power that Karid wouldn't have believed the chickens possessed, they gave a massive wrench and leapt into the air. Karid would have fallen off backward if his hands and legs weren't sealed onto the chicken.

For one heart wrenching moment they were suspended in the air and Karid was sure they were going to fall back down, then the chicken flapped it's wings and they were soaring higher before leveling out. And before he knew it, Karid found himself whisking through the air. 

 
 
 
 

22: Chapter 22

Although Karid was fairly sure he had never flown before, something about it felt comfortable, felt like home. It took him a few minutes to realize just what it was but he finally figured out that it was the speed of the chickens that he was accustomed to. The rush of the wind as you zipped past at high speeds, the way things around you tended to blur a little as you passed, even the feeling like your skin was starting to peel back a bit, was familiar. Karid reveled in the feeling of tearing through the sky, once he had gotten over gaping at the ground far below them. It had been amazing to see everything from such a height. They had all been so tiny. He had never imagined being able to see a land literally spread out like a map before him, but that was exactly how it had looked, only, only far more real. Yoraed and the others had laughed at his obvious awe but they told him that they all had pretty much reacted the same way for their first flight. And when he had finished gaping at the ground, he had spent a good while just looking around the sky they were currently flying through. Seeing clouds, just that much closer was certainly something new. Once, Kaden had informed him, while shouting over his shoulder, they had actually flown through clouds, and the whole party had been soaked through by the mist-like contraptions of nature. However there were no clouds low enough today, so they wouldn't be flying through any. Altogether, flying, in Karid's opinion, was incredible. 

A few hours into the flight, Karid tugged at his right hand. To his surprise, the chicken let it free and he slowly lifted it into the wind, enjoying the feeling of the wind streaming through his fingers. The wind tugged at his free hand, but Karid, accustomed to the speed, shifted until he had a firm seat and braced himself with ease. Kaden looked at him over his shoulder, cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. When Karid was accustomed to it, he tugged free the other hand and held them both out and closed his eyes. The feeling of raw freedom, of free flight was amazing and Karid took in a deep breath and held it, savoring the feeling.

Yoraed, looking at Karid worriedly, was struck by the look of absolute bliss on his face. He had never seen him quite so happy, quite so free. It was if the wind had released wildness in him, a raw sense of living that had been missing. It was, Yoraed realized, the other side of that man who looked like he was carved out of stone. The man behind the soldier, the, the human behind the stone mask. And yet, the stone was still there, still there in the sharpness and realness of the scene. 
Yoraed watched as the wind buffeted him, but he didn’t fall. It was almost as if he was used to it, used to being in winds that hard. He sat straight up, gripping hard with his legs with his body shifting slightly to accommodate the wind's furious force. After a moment he let down his hands and gripped the Avanties again. 

"I've ridden these for years and I still can't do that," Yoraed shouted over to Karid. Karid heard him and grinned. 

"I don't know how I can," he called back, "but I’m used to the speed."

"I thought so," said Kaden, entering into the conversation.

"Besides," said Karid, "the chicken won't let me fall, right?" The last part was directed to the avanties he was riding. To the surprise of the rest of them, the avanties chirped and nodded its head. Yoraed looked at Kaden and Arlad who both looked back at him. 

"Has an avantie ever answered...?" he started, and they both shook their heads. 

"They've never answered you before?" asked Karid.

"No," said Kaden, "We weren't even sure they could understand us to that complex a level." 

"Oh," said Karid. Then he shrugged. "I always seem to talk to animals like they can."

"You always talk to animals, period," Kaden told him grinning. Karid grinned in response. 

Just then though, their conversation was interrupted by Arlad. "Look Nivarn," he said. He tugged free a hand and pointed to a distant shimmering streak, "That is the border between Golboroth and Arinth. We'll cross it in about an hour or two. Then we'll head for the capital of Arinth which is Duztala. We should make it there by nightfall."
"We'll set down somewhere after the we cross the border though, to let the avanties rest for a bit," Yoraed told him. Karid nodded to show that he had heard and focused on the long shimmering line that separated Golboroth from Arinth. It stretched from east to west, for a good portion of the two lands before curving off. 

They soon crossed the border and after perhaps a half hour of flight, they landed in a small village. The villagers were surprised but not that much. They had seen parties from Golboroth before and had been expecting to see them sometime, having figured that the kingdoms would come together. 

Karid spent the time they were on the grounds to eat and try to overcome the peculiar and unexpected effect of flying that had him feeling like he was walking unevenly and making him look like he was very drunk. Just when he was successful, they had to take to the air again. 

Karid spent most of this leg of the flight paying particular attention to the land beneath him. The village they had stopped by had seemed unscathed but as they flew over Arinth, Karid could see many places that weren't. Smoke billowed up from the ground in many places, there was one place that looked like something very large had crashed through. They flew over a field that appeared to be covered in a seething, black mass of insects. It was only on closer inspection that they discovered that it was, in fact, moving, black vines, several of which flung themselves into the air, trying to catch the avanties. Needless to say, by the time they arrived at Duztala, the mood of the party was grim.

When they arrived at the site of the castle though, Karid was perplexed. Twilight had just faded to full dark when the avanties set them down in the castle courtyard. Except, there was no castle to be seen. There was a small but tall, round building made of pillars without walls, which was well lit. Inside, Karid could see people who were obviously waiting for them. The courtyard was surrounded by guards who all had bows aimed at them and only lifted them when Yoraed introduced himself and the captain of the guard identified him. But Karid could still see no castle. He kept silent however and followed the others to the small building. On the way there though, he could help but notice that the floor of the massive courtyard was unusually warm. His attention however was taken up by the people in front of him, as they entered the building.

They were all armed but dressed in clothes befitting advisors and ambassadors. They were all sort of pale in colour but there was none among them who were not stocky or broad-shouldered. Their fingers bore many calluses, and they moved in a very sure way, that, while not graceful, was certainly not clumsy. They greeted Yoraed with a very familiar air and smiled at everyone else except Karid himself whom they did not know and apparently didn't care to like the look of. Karid however had decided to adopt a polite air and did just that throughout the rest of the conversation while he carefully memorized his unfamiliar surroundings, scrutinized the guards and puzzled over the mystery of the too warm floor. Soon however, the conversation was over and the mystery was quite abruptly solved when the line of guards who were standing behind the advisors shifted to each side, forming a pathway to the center of the building. There, embedded in a hollow in the floor, were a pair of truly magnificent doors made of gold and garnets. 

"The castle is underground," he said softly. 

Yoraed heard him and grinned. "I was wondering if you would figure it out before you saw the doors," he said.

"I was wondering why the floor was so warm," Karid admitted.

Yoraed laughed. "You still haven't seen why," he told him. Karid tilted his head at him but Yoraed only grinned and shook his head. "You have to see this one. It's quite an experience. You aren't afraid of underground are you?" 

Karid shook his head and indicated the passageway. "Well, Prince," he said, "let's go." Yoraed nodded and went towards the doors where the advisors were patiently waiting. He paused at the top of the steps which led down to the depression which held the doors and Karid came to a stop beside him. One of the advisors went down and pulled a golden lever set in the floor next to the doors. For a moment nothing happened and then there was a heavy clunk and the doors smoothly swung open downward. 

Instantly a rush of heat rolled out and engulfed them and for a second there was fire, and heat and screams and war cries around him and then Karid snapped back to the present. Luckily the flashback seemed to have taken less than a second and no one had noticed. 

He peered inside the doors but could see nothing but darkness. Yoraed however descended the steps after the advisors and entered the dark furnace without any qualms. Karid entered after him, every sense suddenly going on high alert. He didn't like going into a place that had no other exit that he knew of and that appeared to be too small to comfortably draw a sword. When he enter the staircase, for staircase it was, beyond the doors, he found that it was not so wholly unlit. There was dull gleams of light coming from somewhere above but he couldn't figure out how it was getting to them. 

The stairs soon petered out though and became a smooth walk spiraling further downward. The whole passage was very warm and somewhat stifling. Karid felt like he was slowly being baked alive. 

As they continued down, Yoraed said to him in an undertone, “Try not to touch the walls here, they're very hot."

"I know," Karid replied. He had already figured that out by the way heat emanated from them. He was by now far more interested in the structure of the walls themselves which had square holes in them at set intervals along with a thin, slanted depression at every full turn. 

After another turn he whistled softly. Yoraed cocked an eyebrow at him. Karid focused on the walls and said "No one can get into and out of here if they don't want them to, can they? What comes out of them?"

Yoraed looked at the holes and said, "As far as I know, gold does. Or tar sometimes. And doors slide out of the narrow ones to seal off each level." 

"I thought as much," said Karid, still looking at the walls, and missed Yoraed's tiny shudder at the cool, approving tone of his voice. 

When they finally did come out of the walkway though, Karid sucked in a noiseless breath in favour of the very audible, gasp he almost let out. The walkway ended in a corridor but beyond the corridor the floor disappeared in a giant chasm that descended to depths he couldn't gauge at first glance. The chasm was lit up by torches and mirrors and gems and was a flurry of activity. Sound, previously muted, glared in sharp relief and assaulted his ears. There was the sounds of hammers and metals and all sorts of creaking and shouting. Karid walked slowly to the railing of the corridor and looked down. He felt Yoraed come to stand next to him and said, still looking down, "It's forges. The castle is made up of forges?"

"Arinth's main trade is metal work," said Yoraed, "like Golboroth is a healer kingdom. The greatest forges are here, within the palace."

"Like the Aclinad which is on the level below the palace," said Karid.

"Yes," said Yoraed. "It's not as deep as it seems though," he continued, indicating the chasm. "There are many levels below it. That's where the 'real palace' begins. This is just the main workroom." 

"Quite a large workroom," Karid commented dryly and then suddenly realized that they were both holding up the entire party. "Badland!" he said.

Yoraed snorted with laughter and said, "I think we can rule out any thought that you may have been a diplomat Nivarn." With that they both returned to the others and Karid couldn't help but notice the smug looks on the Arinth advisors.

They were led to a lift, something Karid had only heard about, (from where he couldn't remember) but had never seen, and were duly let down to the floor of the workroom which they exited via a tunnel in one of the walls. 

From there, like Yoraed had said, the real palace began. The tunnels became opulent but not due to precious metal and stones but to the exquisite bits of metal work embedded in the walls. The blacksmiths at Arinth had somehow found a way to make simple iron and steel seem like it rivaled silver and gold and diamonds and they thoroughly won his appreciation. 
He had expected to be led into the main hall, if there was a main hall here, to meet the rulers of Arinth but instead they were lead directly to their rooms, which had been prepared for them, the Arinthians knowing that the Golborothans had to stop here on their way to Salicianarath. The diplomats deposited them before their doors and Yoraed thanked them.

"You're very welcome," answered one of the advisors. "We apologize on behalf our rulers. The prince, as I'm sure you know, has gone on to Salicianarath already, the Queen is with her generals and the princess is in her forge and has been there for three days now. We didn't think it wise to disturb her."

Yoraed laughed. "No, it isn't wise at all. It is no slight to us. We are all very tired and tomorrow we have another long flight ahead of us."

The advisor smiled, "I know. You and yours should rest well. You will have no such rest once you reach Salicianarath." 

Yoraed grimaced and nodded. "Words that are too true," he replied. 

The advisor nodded and then he bid them good night and left, promising to have food sent to them. 

They all, by unspoken agreement, bundled into Yoraed's room to await the food. Yoraed made a beeline for the bed and flopped onto it. Kaden and Karid sat on either side on his prone form while Arlad and the other two people who had come with them sat respectably on the couch and chairs in the room. There was a moment of comfortable silence while they waited but Karid was suddenly assaulted with a feeling that he hadn't done something and that something bad was going to come of it. He began to inspect the room in more detail on reflex while he racked his brain to remember what it was. His gaze swept around the room and he quickly checked for any signs of sabotage, ways out, secret entrances or anything of that ilk. Finding none, he turned his attention to the bed itself. There seemed to be nothing strange about it. It was a typical four poster with two pillows at the top which the prince had utterly missed when he had lain down. On a whim Karid lifted one of the pillows, and then let out a word in a language he didn't know, but that was clearly an expletive. Yoraed lifted his head at Karid's violent exclamation and froze. For there in front of him, was a needle stuck in the mattress, that had previously been hidden beneath the pillow. Kaden lifted the pillow on his side and cursed as well. 

"They weren't taking any chances," he said. 

Yoraed sat up and plucked up one of the needles. He lifted it up to his nose and sniffed. "Poison," said the Prince of Golboroth, simply. Yoraed eyed the length of the needle and then said, "It's only long enough to just get through the pillow so I would only feel a prick. I would probably not take notice of it and if I did, it might be too late. Clever." 

Karid eyed the prince who was the commander of Golboroth's army and wondered what he would do. He wasn't the only one. There was a palpable silence in the air which was broken by Yoraed suddenly standing and saying. "Kaden, Nivarn, with me. We are going to visit the queen." Arlad started to protest but Yoraed silenced him with a raised hand. "As fighters, Kaden and Nivarn complement each other far better than any other pair in this room. Stay here. Be on your guard. If anything happens, get to Salicianarath and send a message to my father to protect Nraed." Arlad opened his mouth to argue, struggled with himself and then shut it and nodded. Yoraed held his gaze for a moment and then nodded. Then he jerked his head to Karid and Kaden to follow and the three of them left the room. 

 

23: Chapter 23

The Queen was mad. If Karid had thought Yoraed was angry at the assassination attempt on his life, he soon found out that he had nothing on the Arinthian Queen. The queen of Arinth was still pacing up and down the floor of her council room, raging, after she had sent her generals to get the rest of the Golboroth party and to search the castle as well as to capture all the servants who had prepared the rooms. Yoraed, Karid and Kaden stood off to the side, awkwardly, waiting for the rest of their people and trying not to get in the way of the queen. 
Finally after a few more minutes she collapsed in a chair.

"Sit," she commanded them. Yoraed and Kaden cautiously sat. Karid remained standing. The queen eyed him and then left him alone. Karid stood behind Yoraed's chair and coolly observed the queen, now that she wasn't threatening to rip people's heads off. She was pale skinned, with surprisingly golden hair, large brown eyes, a straight nose and firm chin. She was also one of the tallest people in Arinth that Karid had seen. She was broad shouldered and well-muscled with long fingers which were heavily calloused. She was in a fine-material tunic with leggings worn under a short skirt, hard-heeled leather boots and armbands and wrist guards. She also had a sword belted to her waist. She was probably somewhere in her mid-forties but her face was one of those that seemed ageless. In short, a beautiful, powerful queen who could, Karid reflected, in all reality, really rip someone's head off. 

"This is a terrible disgrace," she said to Yoraed, "To think that someone in my kingdom should try to do something so lead-based as this!" "Still," she continued after a moment, “I am truly glad you are alright Prince of Golboroth. It would like me not to see your corpse."

"It would like me not as well," said Yoraed with a wry smile.

 

The queen caught the gallows humour and smiled. "Tell me though," said she, "How came you to find the needles?"

Having not told her before, Yoraed did now, "Nivarn did," he said, indicating Karid. The queen turned her gaze onto Karid inquiringly.
 

Karid shrugged gracefully. "Gut feeling," he said, "something was wrong in the room. I went looking for what it was."

She eyed him speculatively. "Where are you from Nivarn?"

"I know not, your majesty," he replied, "My memory of my life before Golboroth was lost." 

The queen looked back at Yoraed and tightened her lips with displeasure. When at war, you did not bring in unknown variables. Yoraed stared back at her coolly. The two royals faced off for a second and then the queen must have seen something in Yoraed's gaze that cause her to reconsider Karid because when she returned her gaze to him, it was more open.

After a moment she held out her hand to him and said "Give me your sword." Karid hesitated and then slowly drew his sword and handed her the hilt. She took it and inspected it. "This is not Golboroth issued," she said after a moment, in surprise. 

"No, your majesty, I made it myself," Karid said.

"You forged it?"

"Yes, your majesty."

There was a pause and then the queen said, still with an air of faint surprise, "It is very well done." There was another pause and then, "And well cared for. You are a soldier Nivarn but I do not think your loyalty lies with the Prince of Golboroth. However your affection does and so you will protect him, yes?" 

"Yes," said Karid.

"Good," she said returning his sword to him, "Do so."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the Golborothan party who were all safe and sound although looking highly suspicious. 

When the queen saw them she nodded and then said to Yoraed, "It seems to me that the best course of action in light of what you have told me is to get you out of the castle as fast as possible. I know you're tired but it's certainly better than being dead. I will lead you to the stables a through a hidden route and you will set off for Salicianarath from tonight." Her tone booked no argument. 

She turned to one of her people, "Have you gotten word to the princess?"

"Two of the guards are standing watch over her your majesty but she is still working."

"Disturb her," said the queen curtly, "and get provisions for our guests. One of them will go with you to get the food. I'm sure they'll wish to pick it themselves," she added glancing at Yoraed.
 

Yoraed nodded and Karid smiled, having decided that he quite liked this queen, even though he couldn't trust her and was in agreement with her in leaving. It was the safest thing to do and the chickens didn't have saddles that could be tampered with. The only thing that could be tampered with was the chickens themselves and Karid was sure they'd notice that.

One of the other persons who had accompanied them went off to collect the food and the Queen stood and gestured with her head that they were to follow her. 

"Your things will be brought," she said, "And even if they are not, your life, I believe, is what you want to take with you the most." And with that ending she swept out through another tunnel and they were all left to follow her. Karid went in front of the Prince with Kaden and Arlad and the last person left guarded his back, all with swords drawn. Apparent ally or not, they couldn't afford to take chances. Their enemy certainly wasn't. 

It was a long trek through the tunnels, and after the first half, it was dark for lights were not put there. Karid had prowled down the tunnel, all his senses on high alert for any threat. Even so, he could not help the rather comfortable feeling of being entombed in the rock, in darkness. Something which completely surprised him considering his hate for being confined inside and his love for the outdoors.
Finally though they had emerged into the stables for the chickens which was much better lit. Karid quickly went over to the chickens, which had woken up when they had entered and checked their eyes for any signs of a drug or poison. Yoraed saw what he was doing and went with him. 

"No," said Yoraed, "they're fine. Tired perhaps, but fine." 

A few minutes later, the rest of their stuff was brought up through the tunnel and quickly checked through by Kaden and Arlad. Once they were sure everything was there and the provisions were good, they hoisted the stuff onto the chickens who were looking very cranky. Karid didn’t blame them. They led the chickens out of the stables, followed by the queen and her guards, and were just about to mount them when a voice said "Wait!"

They all stopped and turned to see who it was. They were greeted by the sight of a young woman hurrying out of the stables. She had long white hair, tied into a bun, with the same pale complexion as the people of Arinth albeit it was now flushed. Her face was square and she had broad shoulders set in a lithe, well muscled frame. Her eyes were a deep wine red. Before Karid could do anything Yoraed said,

"Yes, Princess?" 
 

Karid blinked in surprise and on looking closer noticed a slight resemblance to her mother. This then, was probably, the characteristic features of the royal family of Arinth. 

"I have something for you," she said, “I thought I had all night to work on it but fate didn't think so." She raised the long thin bundle she held in hands and presented it to Yoraed. "My gift Prince. Use it well." 
 

Yoraed carefully lifted the bundle from her palms and unwrapped it to revel a beautifully yet practical leather sheath, holding a sword inside. Yoraed gripped the handle which was silver and blue and drew it out of the sheath. Despite the situation, Karid was filled with instant envy. The sword was beautiful, made of folded and refolded steel, razor sharp, with a light design near the hilt and a little longer than Yoraed's current sword. It's quality was leaps and bounds above anything Karid could have crafted and it showed. Yoraed too, looked a little in awe of the gift presented to him. After a moment though, he sheathed it and said, 

"Thank you my lady. It is a gift of incomparable value. But I do dearly wish I didn't have a use for it."

"So do I prince," she said, "Give my love to my brother."

"I will," he assured her. She nodded once and then went to stand by her mother. "Be safe, Yoraed, Prince of Golboroth," said the Queen, "And may the Creator have mercy and care for you and may his shapers shape it unto his will." 

"May the Creator grant you all that is needed in this time," said Yoraed. Then he nodded to them both and they returned the gesture and retreated to the stables followed by their guards. 
Yoraed carefully packed away the sword and then they all hopped onto the chickens and took flight into the brisk night air.