Turak chuckled as he watched Robert try to balance himself on the Cro’kan. This particular beast was a bit on the edgy side, but it was the only one that was in the royal stable at the time.
“Use your legs!” he yelled, trying his best not to laugh.
“I’m trying!” Robert yelled, hanging off the side of the creature.
Turak watched for several more minutes until finally Robert was able to keep himself upright. They had spent the afternoon training with the incisors and different techniques of the blade that Alektor thought he might find useful. However, Robert made it clear he did not want to train with the Dunamis. This was something Turak found very odd; he was clearly learning how to control and utilize the power, but on his own? It was impossible.
Turak heard the sound of talons impacting on pavement and turned to see Demessa entering the riding area. Oh, spirits… He thought. This won’t be good.
Demessa had been on the King’s errands for the last month or so and had not been in contact with the new Kryo of Rexun. A shiver went down his spine at the thought of the last time Demessa and Robert had any interaction.
She pulled her Cro’kan to a halt before the two. Her bright green eyes were fierce as she looked over Robert, though she didn’t seem as surprised as he would have thought. They stared at each other for a time, until Turak finally coughed.
“Demessa? This will not be a problem, do you understand?” He looked at Robert, who looked as though he wanted to strangle the girl.
“It won’t be a problem,” Robert said. “But she and I need to have a conversation.” He looked at Turak, who sighed and nodded. He led his mount to walk directly past Demessa, who still stared intently at Robert.
He leaned in close and spoke to her. “Do not make this difficult.” With that, Turak rode past her and out of the gate.
~
Robert’s eyes narrowed at the Dae girl. “So,” he said, his anger building with each breath. “It seems you were right about me. They did pull me apart.”
She sneered at him, but he could see a shimmer of guilt on her face. “I will not apologize,” she finally said. “You may have fooled the King and even Turak, but I know what you are. A demon, just like the Espi-Dae say you are. No one could have recovered from what I saw. You were broken. I watched you fall into the Pit of Mar. I watched you beg for death.”
“But here I stand.” He smiled wryly. “Dio’Mar saved me.”
She scoffed. “Dio’Mar. Don’t use those religious fanatics’ patron spirit against them. Dio’Mar does not live in the pit.”
“You’re right about that,” Robert said, looking above his right shoulder. “Either way, I am where I am, and you have to accept it. Alektor has asked me to see past any trouble you’ve caused me, and I’m willing to do that, if you are.”
Demessa was silent for a time, her face twisting with frustration. “I will do as my King commands,” she finally said, bringing her mount around to leave the riding area. “But don’t think for a second that I believe any of this. Something is not right here, demon, and I—” Demessa’s words fell silent in an instant as she saw what looked like a woman, shrouded in black smoke, peering back at her with an eyeless face.
Robert smirked ruefully at Dio’Mar’s antics; the spirit had grown again to stand several feet higher than he was, even mounted on his Cro’kan.
“Do you not… have faith…?” the spirit asked, her voice a terrifying hiss. Demessa reeled back from the form, nearly falling from her saddle.
“By the spirits!” she said, fear filling her voice.
Dio’Mar cocked her head to the side and slowly dissipated like fog under the afternoon sun.
Demessa turned to see Robert smiling darkly, his eyes meeting her own.
“Y-you,” she said, her voice quivering.
“Yes,” Robert said, his smile broadening. “She is here now, I can see her, and trust me, she is a vengeful spirit. She knows your name, knows your crimes.” Robert began walking past her with his mount. As he did, he leaned in close so she could hear him. “But I told her that I have forgiven you, and so she has allowed you to live. Not even Alektor would go against the word of that spirit.”
Uncertainty painted her face as she looked at him, her fierce green eyes burning with a hundred different emotions behind them.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“What are you? Really?” she asked him earnestly.
He leaned back and looked at the sky. Memories of the last several months flashed through his mind; the fear, the pain, the loss. “I told you already,” he said. “I am a human…”
~
Turak continued toward the palace at a gentle trot, passing vendors trying to sell goods, and crowds of people going about their daily business. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of Thule, in all its musky glory. It was real, honest, and held nothing back from all who beheld it. He often liked to make this trek through the streets. It reminded him of where he came from, that he was not born in the golden sheets of royalty, but in the filthy gutter of the world, a Doulos to the Lokkadonian taskmasters.
He worked his way up the main streets of the city until he reached the imposing palace that sat at Thule’s center. He dismounted his Cro’kan, silently handing the reins to a stable boy, and entered the vast halls. He looked at every detail and took note, remembering the first time he’d laid eyes on them. They were smeared with the blood of the old regime. Their bodies littered the smooth stone floor, and their blood soaked the fine carpets. Now he walked them freely as the right hand of the new king.
“Lord Turak,” a seductive voice called from in front of him. He looked up from the floor, which had been the focus of his gaze as he pondered the past, and saw that Lady Daiees was standing before him.
“Now, what would trouble my Lord Turak so much that he completely ignores me when I pass him in these halls?” she said, a wry smile etched across her face.
Turak chuckled at the comment. He was known in court as a bit of a womanizer but had made sure to steer clear of Noblewomen at this level. Lady Daiees was the daughter of an old and powerful house. She was older than he was but had a certain undeniable charm to her that she was well aware of.
“I have had much on my mind as of late,” Turak said, seriousness in his voice. “There is a great deal of bloody business that seems to be looming just around the corner, I’m sure you can understand.”
Daiees inclined her head in acknowledgment and began walking past him. Turak felt a pang of guilt and turned to intercept her. “Not to push you away, of course, my Lady, I am a responsible representative of Rexun now, burdened with these problems. Along with the King, that is. Perhaps we should speak about it sometime soon if you are willing.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled at the thought. “I believe I would like that very much.”
“I’m sure he will be too busy,” a voice called from down the hall.
The two Dae turned to see Alektor walking with two grey-clad warriors at his flanks. Turak and Daiees bowed their heads as he approached. “Your Highness,” they said in unison.
“Turak, Lady Daiees,” Alektor said, greeting the two. “My Lady, I’m afraid I need to borrow Lord Turak for a moment. I will have time shortly to discuss your trade dispute.”
Daiees glanced at Turak and bowed her head again, turning to walk down the hall.
“You just can’t seem to help yourself, can you?” Alektor said, shaking his head. “Daiees is heir to a powerful house. You can’t treat her like you do the others.”
Turak gave an expression of genuine shock. “What? Alektor, I would never—”
“Sure,” Alektor said, cutting him off. “Never mind that; how did it go with Reku?”
Turak paused, taking a deep breath. “Well enough, I suppose. Demessa arrived, as you predicted. I left them to hash it out.”
Alektor raised his eyebrow.
“Don’t worry.” Turak continued, waving off any doubt. “Demessa is many things, but when I give her my serious face, she does what she’s told. Besides, Reku is royalty now. I doubt she would try anything foolish.”
“I need you to go to Visgo. Lord Irro may be a spineless gurrank, but he is a smart man. The trade situation could be dire; I don’t want my people starving because of this.”
“Then why proclaim independence before the Torre’? You knew this would happen. The trade situation isn’t the only dire situation. We are outnumbered and surrounded as well.” Turak crossed his arms and shook his head. “You never told me.”
Alektor sighed and put his hand on Turak’s shoulder. “Because Dio’Mar is with us.”
“I know,” Turak said. “We have her blessing, but blessings can’t win this war for us.”
“No,” Alektor said, his face serious. “You don’t understand. She is literally here, with Reku. It was difficult to notice at first, just a blur floating around him, but I saw her and heard her speaking to him. She is hiding her presence from us, but she is here.”
Turak looked at his friend for a moment, stunned. “You saw her? How is that possible? Spirits can hide their presence if they wish… it is something we don’t understand.”
Alektor waved off the question with his hand. “Either way, you put far too much faith in the Torre’s ability to control the other clans. If the Visgo join us, we will be able to convince more to join our cause. We aren’t the only clan who have been mistreated by the Torre’.”
“What makes you think the Visgo will join us? Our dealings with them have been good, but they make far more profit trading with the Torre’ or Lokkadonia.”
Alektor sighed again. “Because profits and trade aren’t everything, and the promise of something far greater will appeal to them. Have you met their Queen?”
Turak shook his head silently, letting the king finish.
“She has been friendly with us since my ascension here, offering us far more leniency than we should merit. Though I have not met her, this leads me to believe that she at least has some favor toward our goal here. The goal is freedom from the oppression of the Torre’ and from the lash of the Lokkadonians. So, we approach her with this and give her the opportunity to join us.” Alektor turned halfway to leave. “Even if she does not, we may ask only for a guarantee that they do not invade us from the south. I would prefer to fight a war on only one front.”
Turak let the words sink in, nodding his head. “So, what would you have me do?”
Alektor retrieved a fine leather satchel from one of his guards and handed it to Turak. “I would like you to take this message, on behalf of all Rexun, and give it to Queen Mundiri of the Visgo and come to an accord with her.”
Turak tried to take the satchel, but Alektor clenched his fist around the strap and held it firmly. “Turak, you cannot fail at this task. The Visgo are key to defeating the Torre’ at sea.”
Turak nodded in agreement and took the bag.
“Oh, and Turak,” Alektor said, halting his friend once again. “Bring Reku and Demessa with you. I want the Spirit-Sent to show himself, and Demessa needs to learn to play nice with him.”
Turak sighed but nodded again, this time turning to leave un-harassed.