Robert sat in silence at his royal table while the festivities erupted around him. Drums beat, and singing played chorus to a turmoil in his heart that could not be numbed by the company he now kept. He looked at his wretched hand again, a constant reminder of what he had endured, and perhaps what he was now becoming.
“Fret not, human…” Dio’Mar said in his mind, sitting elegantly on his shoulder, invisible to everyone except Robert. “We have accomplished a great task… something that has not been done in thousands of years…”
By the time Turak and Robert had arrived back in Thule, word of their exploits in Visgo had made its way back to the ears of Alektor. They had apparently accomplished what they wished, in ensuring not only the guarantee that the Visgo would not attack them in the coming conflict but that they would join them as well. Queen Mundiri had been forced to step down, and thanks to Alektor’s swift response, she still lived. Honor had been restored to the crown of Visgo, under the watchful eye of the Queen’s cousin, Athica, a younger Dae woman who was more of a warrior than her predecessor.
Robert’s thoughts were interrupted by Richoro, who sat before him, offering a bowl of wine. “My Kryo?”
“No, thank you,” Robert said, instinctively pulling his monstrous hand under the table.
“My Kryo, I wished to apologize to you, my behavior during our time in Visgo was unacceptable,” he said, placing the bowl in front of him. “I just wanted to come to you and say this.”
Robert hesitated, still feeling the effects of his internal dilemma. He nodded, trying his best not to portray any insincerity. “I appreciate it.”
“Those people,” he continued, “should pray to you every night, Spirit-Sent. For saving their lives. I may not understand it, but I can respect it.”
Robert nodded but said nothing. Noticing he was not in the mood to talk further, Richoro stood, bowed, and found his way back to the party.
“You should be… happier?” Dio’Mar spoke again. “Is that the word you would use for this?”
“I can’t do it,” he said, hesitantly taking the bowl of wine in his hand. Why did they use bowls instead of cups? The thought perturbed him. “I don’t want to go to war with Lokkadonia. I mean, what about Katrina? And Daniel?” He paused, thinking of his time in the Spirit Forest. “And Amynta…” He looked into the crowd of Dae. They danced together, laughed, and drank. It was almost primal, the way they moved about. The music was fitting for what he saw in the dancing Dae. A loud beating of drums, and other strange instruments, made from bone and animal skins. He was reminded of the primitive tribal music he had heard back home. His focus landed on a beautiful Dae girl, who, in the midst of an elaborate dance, whirled to meet his eyes. Demessa, he thought. The woman’s piercing green eyes captured him as she smiled and bowed her head, turning to resume her dance. She moved with grace, but with a ferocity that could humble any man. He swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to pry his gaze from her.
“I like her…” Dio’Mar whispered. “But not ‘that’ much… do not get any strange thoughts… Robert…”
He looked away, scanning more faces in the crowd. “What, you can read my mind now?” he huffed. “It’s nothing. Humans have needs, that’s all.”
“Needs…” she hummed curiously.
Robert hung his head, trying to hide the fact that he was talking to an invisible spirit. “Yes… you know, desires for… physical contact with another.” He choked the words out, embarrassed to be speaking with a being that most likely had no idea what he was talking about.
“Interesting…” she said. “If it is important to your… mental stability… then perhaps you should try it…”
“I can’t.” He looked back to Demessa. “It seems a bit… strange.”
“Strange? You seem to have the same reproductive organs as a male Dae… I think it would be interesting to see if it was, in fact… possible.”
Robert grabbed the bowl of wine that Richoro left for him, downing half of it in one gulp. “I didn’t take the ancient spirit Dio’Mar for a pervert,” he said under his breath.
“Even Turak seems to be indulging himself…” she pointed out, ignoring his comment.
Robert glanced to see Turak, on the other side of the large hall, laughing at some unheard joke with a Dae girl on either arm.
“Is it perhaps… that you are unable to dance…?” Dio’Mar asked.
“No,” Robert said defensively. “Hey, back in my world, I was a pretty good dancer.”
“Then perhaps… apprehension about speaking with females…?
Is she just messing with me now? he thought.
“No,” Robert said. “I am fine with girls too, I just…” He looked at Demessa again, her hips swaying back and forth to the beat of the Rexunii music, her pearl-white hair a chaotic but beautiful mess. “Fuck it,” he said, standing and removing his cloak. Katrina’s probably moved on, anyway, he thought, then pushed her memory from his mind.
Dae warriors parted as he walked toward her, bowing to him and speaking words of respect. The gestures were still new to him, but he did notice that he walked a bit straighter when it happened.
Demessa turned to see him and again smiled, showing her canines. “My Kryo, I was wondering when you would join us. This celebration is for you! The savior of Rexun!”
“Yeah, uh… great,” he said, licking his lips.
“Comfortable around females… of course,” Dio’Mar whispered in his ear.
“So, I was wondering if you could teach me some Rexunii dances,” Robert said, ignoring the spirit. “I’ll be here for a while and need to know this sort of thing, right?”
She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer. “It is not like the dances of the Lokkadonians, my Kryo. They prefer the civilized ways of the Torre’, wearing fancy dresses and dancing like stone statues. We like the feel of passion in our celebrations, to feel the heat of our movements in every step.” She started to move her hips from side to side, like waves of water going back and forth. The motion was mesmerizing, and Robert caught himself staring.
~
Alektor drank from his bowl of wine, tasting the fermented liquid in his mouth. He wasn’t a big advocate for the sweeter wines, but this particular blend had a kick to it. He scanned the vast hall’s occupants, sipping again.
“Your majesty,” a servant said from behind him. “The emissaries from Clan Sabree have arrived.
Alektor nodded. “Send them through the back. I want no announcement, not until they leave.”
“Yes, your majesty.” The servant pulled back and walked into a small door, stationed behind the king.
He began to watch his subjects again, enjoying their victory, a small one, but more than enough to embolden their passion for a conflict. He looked then at Reku, who was locked in one of the simpler dances of the Rexunii people. The sight impressed him. He had always thought of the human as a solemn creature. He was actually smiling now, and dancing with… his eyes focused on his partner. Spirits, he thought. Demessa whirled around Reku, in no way hiding the provocative nature of her dance. That was quick, he thought. They had been gone for several weeks. Apparently, over that time, the two had made up, and even developed an attraction for one another. How strangely the great spirits worked. Suddenly he saw a blur over Reku’s shoulder. A small thing, more of a feeling than something physical. Could it be? The faint outline of a woman ebbed into existence, and with it, the sense of boundless power. It was her again, the patron spirit of his clan, Dio’Mar. The sight of her unnerved him but also gave him encouragement. She seemed to have attached herself to Reku, and in doing so, blessed him with unknown powers.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Your majesty,” the servant said behind him again. “I present to you, Princess Ambrosia of House Akio, and Lord Nasus of House Karo.”
“Princess?” Alektor asked, turning to the two hooded Dae standing behind him. Feminine amber eyes glowed from underneath the concealing cowl and stared at him. The two figures approached and, almost in unison, drew back their hoods to reveal the light violet skin of the Sabree clans.
Ambrosia bowed her head respectfully but maintained a stiffness that showed her skepticism. “Your Majesty,” she said, in a fluid but slightly hostile voice. “It is good to finally meet you. We have heard much of the famed King Alektor in Sabree.”
Alektor nodded his head, gesturing for them to sit before him. They did so, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the large table and steepleing his fingers. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, and I apologize for the secrecy. These are dangerous times, and the protection of any other clan’s emissaries are extremely important to me.” He took a deep breath, preparing for his next words. “Our people have suffered a troubled past together. We share a history rife with war and conflict between the Rexunii and the Sabree, and this… I find unacceptable.”
“Your Majesty,” Ambrosia replied. “I mean no disrespect when I say that the Rexunii have been the cause of most of what you speak of. Our ‘troubled’ past that you have brought up to show how our clans have lived analogously is… exaggerated, to say the least. To the Sabree, we were defending against your raids and invasions. It was a valiant fight against the barbaric warmongers to the west. Your predecessor was the last to test our borders, and if it were not for the Lokkadonians, we might have lost much more than we did. So, tell me then, King of Rexun, why should the Sabree even entertain the idea of not exacting our vengeance upon those who have tormented us for so many years?”
Alektor narrowed his eyes at the Princess. She was sent here for the purpose of negotiation, but also, perhaps to express the true intention of the crown of the Sabree. Her words were likely a reflection of her father’s, and he had not forgotten the trespasses against their clan.
“Princess Ambrosia,” Alektor began. “I hear your concerns, and to be completely honest, I expected a much more brash response from the Sabree. I find the fact that your father sent you, in person, to speak with me, to be a great gesture of trust, and I appreciate it.”
Ambrosia adjusted herself, clearly surprised by the more pleasant response.
“But you have misjudged me,” he continued. “I am not one to be compared with the former rulers of Rexun, seeing as how I usurped their power and cast them into the Pit of Mar, I feel my reputation should be slightly different. I am the first King of Rexun in centuries to host Sabree dignitaries in an effort to establish peace.”
“Peace,” she interjected. “Only because you have overextended your resources and counted your enemies poorly. You are surrounded, young king, and in over your head.”
Alektor raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his throne, his face one of stern confidence. “Perhaps it may look like that to some, but these things are more complicated than just the numbers you perceive. The Torre’ have done their best to stifle the growth and development of my clan. The Lokkadonians enslave thousands of them. True that our list of friends has dwindled, as you so eloquently pointed out, but the caliber of friends is what concerns me, not the number of them. The loyalty of the other clans is bought by the trade and riches of the Torre’. In exchange, they protect them from any and all opposition, rendering themselves docile servants. The resilience of your people is widely known, and I would seek your friendship in these troubled times. Not only because it would be a hard-fought contest, but because I know our two clans could be unstoppable together.”
“This…” she said slowly, after long contemplation, “…would not be possible… your majesty. We will not betray the trust of our High King. I am sorry, but…” She sighed. “It has not gone unnoticed that you have been trying to close the rift between our two clans. In fact, my father sees it as something quite noble. But it is still vastly insufficient to justify betraying the vows of loyalty to our High King.”
Alektor nodded, letting out a deep breath. “I see, so there it is then.” He took a moment, then looked at Ambrosia. “You have my solemn vow as a king, and a man of honor, that I will not attack your clan. The Sabree, as far as I am concerned, are spectators to this fight; this I swear by all the spirits, great and ancient.”
The Krya bowed her head, much lower than she had before.
“But,” he continued, “if your clan does attack, and attempts to invade Rexun for the Torre’ masters, I will be a force of death and unimaginable sorrow against your people.” His eyes bored into her, and he peered into her very soul with the resolve of a wild beast. “I will say again that I am not as my predecessor, I am a man of honor, but in the light, you will find that I am much more capable of eradicating my enemies than he. The Torre’, the Lokkadonians, no matter who tries to break me, will find an immovable stone. This I also swear to you, as a wretched creature of war; you will find this perhaps one day when you become a queen. They are both sides of a common coin, each to serve a purpose as a ruler, the honorable ally, and the terrible foe. To my friends, I am a savior, a beacon of hope and love for all the world to see, but to my enemies, I am a storm, a cataclysm of hatred and war that will weep no tears for the flames.”
Ambrosia blinked nervously at him, beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead.
“Now,” he said, more cheerily, “please, enjoy yourselves at my party. We have made a pact with the Visgo and are happy to host you here as friends!”
With that, he stood and bowed to her, excusing himself and walking into the crowd of his celebrating subjects.
~
Robert felt the heat of Demessa’s body as she writhed around him. The dance reminded him of a tribal mating ritual, as it seemed to require the two dancers’ bodies to be in constant contact. Robert had to keep himself under control several times during the smoldering dance. But he found himself slightly intoxicated by not only the wine he had been drinking but the smell and feel of this Dae woman he now found himself more than a little attracted to.
She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she danced. He stared into her green eyes, bright and beautiful. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but they drew him in, taking his senses away.
“Well, Reku.” Alektor’s familiar voice chimed from behind him, muffled under the music. Robert’s back stiffened, and he jerked away from Demessa to whirl toward the King.
“Hey!” he said, nervously. “Alektor, how’s it going?”
“Your Majesty,” Demessa said, bowing and panting slightly.
“Lady Irro,” Alektor continued. “I was hoping to borrow your dancing companion for a moment. I’ll bring him right back.” He smiled.
“Of course, your majesty!” She blushed and walked back into the crowd.
Alektor looked at Robert, who was left stunned at the strange exchange. He put his arm around his shoulder and began to walk toward a less boisterous area. “I know I’ve been busy, Reku, but there are a great many things I have been meaning to ask you. I am curious as to the nature of the abilities my warriors described in Visgo. I am not sure what to think about it at the moment.” He led him to a small area near the entrance, where the pounding of the party’s music was less astounding. “Dio’Mar seems to be much more complex than I first assumed,” he said.
“It wasn’t her power,” Robert said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Alektor raised his eyebrow.
“They are… uh… ancient abilities that she showed me. Abilities that Dae used in the past.”
“Dae?” The king didn’t look convinced.
“Yes, I trust her.” Robert stiffened at the words, but he was sincere.
Alektor let out a deep sigh and looked at his fellow clansmen and women, enjoying the successful mission in Visgo. “Do you know the reason for this war?” he said, changing the subject. A servant came to the two men and held out two bowls of wine. Alektor took one and handed the other to Robert.
Robert hesitated, looking at the Dae. “Yes,” he finally said.
“I can see the doubt in your eyes, Reku. You don’t need to hide it.” Alektor drank deeply from his bowl of wine. “Freedom,” he said.
“Really,” Robert said, more sarcastically than he intended. Perhaps he had drunk too much wine. “Freedom? This coming from a ‘king’? Sorry, but I don’t think I’m convinced.”
Alektor scoffed. “Arrogance. Your words lack wisdom. Ideals and clans are more elaborate than what you can see, Reku.”
“I had to stop your warriors from murdering a couple hundred civilians, all because it was more convenient for them to complete the mission.” Robert caught himself, seeing the expression on Alektor’s face. He drank half of his wine bowl in one gulp and pressed on. “You don’t seem to care about innocent people, so why should I even take your cause seriously?”
“Yes,” Alektor said calmly. “An easy solution to a problem that was the product of one of ‘your’ plans. I care for my people and would sacrifice theirs if it meant it would lead to the salvation of my own. That does not make me unmerciful or eager for slaughter. The Visgo chose a path, and we reacted. I mourn for their dead, but I feel more anger toward those who made their deaths possible.”
Robert shook his head, having heard much of the same argument from Turak before.
“Hearing words are meaningless to your people, it seems,” Alektor continued. “You must see.”
“What else do I need to see?” Robert asked.
“The death.” Alektor’s eyes grew distant. “The suffering of my people at the hands of the Lokkadonians. How they are tortured and violated by them. They may have attempted to seduce you to their culture and ways of thinking, but they are all deceivers. Hypocrites, who feign piety by honoring the spirits, but turn around and forsake the Doulos for nothing more than the simple need to dominate those weaker than themselves.” He looked at Robert, seriousness on his face. “You must see it, as a man of mercy, which I know you are. One of great compassion and love; you have to see it to believe it.”