XIV

“As I suspected,” Erruna said, “it is most certainly a curse, my lord.”

They were in Arlian’s office, the mage Erruna looking somewhat flustered as she sat in the chair opposite Captain Orvyn.

Arlian leaned back in his tall chair.

“A common curse? Could any magicker have done this?”

She shook her head. “No, Commander. This is most certainly very powerful magic. The inking still carries a powerful aura. I also suggest the body be burned immediately.”

“See to it. But are you certain there’s nothing more you can discern?”

“I’m sorry. There’s no way to say who cast the curse, only that this man had no chance at all of telling us anything.”

“So,” Arlian said, “a cruse designed to keep people from talking if captured or…”

“Or… if their vote was suddenly changed.”

“Can you reverse the magic?”

She breathed in deeply. “I’ve seen a lot of magic—many curses. But nothing as powerful and insidious as this. I wonder who is inflicting them.”

“Unfortunately, that individual is unknown to us, and will probably remain so, since he’s using agents.”

“We can’t be sure the council woman will even be inflicted with this curse,” Orvyn said. “It could be a family member, a friend, anyone she cares about.”

“I hate magic,” Arlian said as he leaned forward, knocking his forehead lightly with his closed fist.

“I feel the same at times, my lord.”

“My apologies, lady Erruna.”

She smiled. “You don’t have to. I understand completely how you feel.”

“Do you… know anyone who might have the knowledge of how to deal with this type of curse?”

A somewhat wry look crossed her face. “Because I’m partial elf?”

So he had been right after all.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Damn.”

“Then we wait,” Captain Orvyn said. “We wait until they make their next play, and hopefully they make some kind of mistake.”

“It would take a miracle to change the outcome they’ve designed.”

“They play this game well.”

“Too well,” Arlian agreed.

Erruna didn’t respond. She didn’t often make political statements, as she was a healer and focused on her profession, while Arlian and his Captains were often involved in political machinations, especially now with Prince Balthazar and the Grand Mage twisting the situation to benefit their goals.

How Arlian hated watching them break all honor, hiding behind the rigid structure of laws to operate in plain sight. Everyone knew. At least anyone who was willing to listen, who had a critical mind for facts and logic.

The criers for their cause were everywhere, constantly disseminating leaflets with false information about the boons of their design to bring more magic to the kingdom, about how Prince Kandrion would bring about an era of magical stagnation and darkness.

On every street corner, for years now, criers calling for the new age of magic had changed the minds of the people—commoners and nobility alike.

Where minds couldn’t be changed, gold did that for them.

Arlian was disgusted. He wanted to put a band of men together and confront the Grand Mage. To confront Prince Balthazar, even. But he didn’t dare voice those thoughts allowed, for reasons of treason.

But did a king have the right to destroy his kingdom? To bring his people down to a state of evil and corruption until his lust for power and dark magicks could be attained? This magical rite could, and probably would, change the world. What right did one kingdom have to make that decision over all others?

The arrogance and contempt for the rights and wishes of other kingdoms was astounding. Klause Schuar the Grand Mage—more like Grand Bastard—needed to have his head lopped off.

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“Commander?” Captain Orvyn asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I have to go,” Arlian said and he got up from his chair.

Their heads turned to fallow him as he walked out from behind his desk. “Where are you going?” Orvyn asked.

“I need to see the prince.”

“Kandrion?” Erunna asked.

“Yes.”

He left them there in his office and stalked down the stairs and outside to the stables, mounted Vira. As soon as he was on the road, he galloped his horse until she tired, then slowed her to a trot, then galloped again until he reached the castle, where he hoped Kandrion would be.

Arlian had to wait for a time, but finally he was admitted to the prince’s chambers by Sennica, who looked at him down his nose.

The white doors, gilded in gold, were opened by the guards and he stalked in over the luxurious rugs where he found Prince Kandrion standing in front of his desk.

The bright sun of the day shone through the cascade of high windows, almost making a silhouette of the man.

“Arlian,” he called. “It’s nice of you to visit.”

“This is no social call, Kandrion.”

“Is everything well, my friend?”

Arlian’s gaze fell to the carpet and he stalked a few paces, then stalked back. “It’s the council woman, lady Jorrissiana.”

The other man, handsome with short hair and square shoulders, suddenly looked worried. “Whatever is the matter? Tell me, Arlian. Hold nothing back.”

“She’s been kidnapped, Kandrion. At her house. In the night. Nine of my men were slain by the so called ‘malcontents!’”

Kandrion raised his hand. “Arlian…”

“We have to find her!”

“Arlian.”

“What is it, my Prince?”

“The council woman…” he said, “Jorrissiana… she already cast her vote yet.”

Arlian froze in his tracks. “What?”

“She cast her vote yesterday. My brother and I are no longer tied.”

He put a hand to his forehead. “They’re going to force her to change her vote. I’m sure of it. There was a curse, it killed a man in my custody. He couldn’t say a word. And they killed him before he could talk.”

“A curse, you say?”

“Yes, a deadly curse that kills. They kidnapped the council woman and I know they will inflict her with this dark magic.”

“Wait,” he said. “Slow down. They took her?”

“Yes,” Arlian said. “And the curse. If they inflict it on her, it’s a death sentence. Unless she does what they tell her to do. Kandrion. She’s going to change her choice from you to Balthazar—probably tomorrow.”

“But we know. We can contest it.”

“We may know,” Arlian admitted, “but if lady Jorrissiana wishes to change her vote, she has that right.”

Kandrion’s gaze shot toward Arlian and he stalked toward him in three long strides. The prince was a tall man, imposing even, when he wanted to be. “Tell me true, Arlian!”

“She was taken, Highness.”

It seemed to dawn on him. Kandrion looked off into the distance, the expression on his face of utter shock. He thought he had won, only to have that taken from him. Stolen.

“She will inexplicably change her vote tomorrow,” Arlian said, more to himself than to the prince. “They’ll—kill her, or someone she knows, if she doesn’t.”

Some moments passed as the prince strode the cushioned sofa with lacquered wood fringes and gold accents, evidentially collecting himself.

Arlian followed him, but he did not sit.

Finally Kandrion sighed heavily and said, “So the tie we’re at now is a false pretense.”

“Forgive me, Kandrion, but you know your brother will twist the situation until he claims victory or forces you to bow out of the choosing.”

Kandrion looked up at him, a determination in his eyes. “I won’t give up so easily. You know that.”

“You may not have a choice, Highness.”

“There has to be something we can do.”

Arlian’s stomach churned. The words he would utter next would be treasonous.

“There is.”

“What do you have in mind, my friend?”

“Summon the army”—Kandrion shook his head—“Lord Liro, will side with you, Majesty.”

“No,” he said, “It’s not right, Arlian.”

“Majesty, your brother, Prince Balthazar is using the law and your sense of honor against you. When he becomes king, there won’t be any law or honor left. You know your brother better than anyone. You know this to be true.”

Kandrion stared at him, a piercing gaze directly into Arlian’s eyes. He stood. “I can’t. What if that plot should fail? You! Executed. And me, probably locked in some tower somewhere. It would give my brother every justification to usurp the throne by force.”

“And if you don’t act, my prince, the kingdom of Aevalin will be no more.”

“Even our beautiful kingdom has had its share of bad kings. The Ferwyte dynasty was—“

“We’re not talking about the reign of a bad king, Majesty,” Arlian said, taking self-note of the almost pleading tone. “If the Grand Mage tears a hole through to the other plain, we won’t see an era of dungeons and monsters. It will be an age of evil and you know this. Deep down. Ask yourself. Will you let this happen?”

Clearing his throat, Kandrion turned away from Arlian, regarded his majestic windows. “We don’t know that for certain.”

“What do the histories say about the last time this happened, when Khorr the Mage King merely scratched that barrier?”

“The histories say that generations suffered due to his arrogance, to his blasphemy against the gods, who never intended our world and the other to come together.”

“And the histories are right. We have our magic—wonderful magic that aids us, helps you rule, cures the sick—commoner and royalty alike. We don’t need the dark magicks.”

Kandrion breathed deeply.

“These men,” Arlian continued, “will never be satisfied. They have dark spirits of avarice and lust within them. And they will do anything to attain the powers they seek. Be a hero king, Majesty.”

Finally he turned to addressed Arlian directly. “Do you think… do you think you can do something?”

Arlian was taken aback. Did he not want to call his supporting lords and bring the army into the city? He wanted Arlian to “do something”?

Was Prince Kandrion giving him subtle permission without saying the words?

“I can,” he said simply.

“We’ll speak no more on this,” Kandrion said, almost instantly. “Do what must be done, my friend, and never tell me what it was.”

Arlian nodded stiffly, got up and stalked toward the door. He turned and addressed Kandrion’s back.

“Long live the kingdom of Aevalin, Majesty.”

He turned and left.

What had he just done? What did he tell Arlian to do? Gods forgive me, for whatever happens next.

Quietly, so quietly he could hardly hear himself, Prince Kandrion echoed the words his friend had spoken.

“Long live… the kingdom of Aevalin.”