THE HEART OF THE MATTER
“The idea is to never allow that to happen,” my grandfather said in a sharp tone. “If this is a ploy to get Jonathan to help your empire in any way-”
“It is not,” Jarl Aran snapped, the blue eyes turning hard as ice. “Since I am the expert in creating monsters, I am also one of those the emperor enlisted to hunt down those who would use them against us. The smaller cults devoted to one or another of the old gods are almost gone, yet the shadowy cult of Chronos is not only continuing but seems to be growing in strength.”
My grandfather raised his eyebrows. “As in Father Chronos, who decides whether children deserve presents or punishments at Christmas, that Chronos?”
“Yes, that Chronos. No one, not even the cultists we’ve caught and interrogated, know their group’s ultimate goal, beside some vague plan to conquer the world. However, I am afraid this Professor Bella may be one of them.”
“Conquer the world? That would be a tall order.” Mr. Stephens glanced at my grandfather who had begun rubbing his chest. “Shabaka, are you alright?”
“Indigestion, nothing more.” My grandfather grimaced as he took a deep breath. “Please forgive my outburst, but I am deeply concerned for my grandson’s safety.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Jarl Aran said as the hardness left his eyes, “for I share your concern.”
“Sir,” I said, “does this Professor Bella believe I will create monsters for her?”
“What if the lives of your family were at stake?”
“Then Jonathan will still say no.” Grandfather gave me a stern look before turning back towards Jarl Aran. “When Jonathan was born with a red birthmark instead of blue, I gave much of the day-to-day operation of the family’s enterprises to my son, Richard, and saw that Jonathan was raised with a firm hand, instilling in him the values and traditions of our ancestors.”
My mother had complained bitterly about that to my father, who cared more for a robust balance sheet than most anything else, but I held my peace as he continued. “Jonathan knows it is far more important to remain steadfast, even in the face of danger to the ones he loves.”
Jarl Aran said to me, “If things came to that, could you throw your family to the wolves?”
“My father would throw me to the jackals without a second thought.” Jarl Aran looked taken aback and I shrugged. “He is the: ‘Very Model of a Modern Major Industrialist’, according to the Times. Grandfather raised me on his estate in the shire of Buckingham, while the family now lives on the West-end of Londinium. My father and I get along well enough.”
“I taught my grandson how to behave as a gentleman should, as well as manly pursuits such as shooting rifles and hunting the Kobols that infest so much of the English countryside.”
“Kobols?” Corneal gave us a puzzled look. “Never heard of them.”
“They are between one to two cubits in height,” I said, happy to get off the subject of my family, “with most of them about three feet tall. They are kind of spindly in shape and not very strong, which is good because they breed like rabbits.”
“Kobols are distant cousins of the goblins living in the mountains of Europe,” my grandfather added. “We hunt them down ferociously as they are exclusively meat eaters, with humans on the top of their menu.”
“Actually,” Catherwood remarked, “Eldarions occupy the top slot. However, they rarely get the chance to feast on one of us and so go after humans instead.”
“They go after children.” All of my residual fear washed away, replaced by smoldering anger as I said, “After the first time I uncovered one of their dens, I vowed to destroy as many of them as I could.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “There is a professor at Londinium University who is studying them, Professor Eaton-Young. She says they have a complex society and should be allowed to live, but I truly do not care. Kobols are vermin as much as rats are, and need to be eliminated.”
“Hear, hear,” Catherwood and my grandfather both said. “Jonathan has become somewhat renowned in Buckingham shire not only for his resolve,” Grandfather added, “but also for his skill in assembling a hunting party and tracking the creatures down.”
He gave me a smile, though I noticed him rubbing his chest again. “I neglected to tell you this, but the sheriff of Buckingham informed me that people are coming to the shire from other rural shires because they feel safer there, and it is improving the economy.”
I sat up straighter in my chair from the praise. “I am glad to hear it.” Then I realized I would no longer be around to organize the hunts. “Sir, now that I am to attend university, will the shire be alright?”
“That is entirely on their heads,” my grandfather said in a firm voice, “not on yours.”
“I was almost eaten by a Kobol when I was a young boy in France,” Captain Lafitte remarked. “I killed it and managed to escape from ze others, but ze experience has never left me.” He leaned forward in his chair. “So, now I know you can kill creatures, but what about men? Have you ever killed one?”
I was taken aback. “Sir, I live in England. I would have no reason to.”
He held up a finger as if admonishing me. “Eventually, your hand will be forced.”
“Jonathan will have people guarding him,” my grandfather said.
“Not all ze time. Jonathan, take some advice from ze last of ze pirates. When ze time comes, do not hesitate but take ze shot. Later, when you are alive and your enemy is not, then you can reflect on what you did, but in ze moment of action…”
“Take the shot.” I nodded at him. “I will remember.”
“I will see that you are never put-” Grandfather clutched his chest. “In that situation.” He clawed at an inner pocket of his suit coat as the rest of us jumped to our feet, his hand pulling out a metal tin with something rattling around inside. He made like he was going to open it but his hand spasmed, the tin flying out of his fingers.
I caught it mid-air. On the front it read: ‘Amyl Nitrite’ in bold letters, the instructions below reading ‘Crush one aspirol between the fingers and thumb and inhale the vapors’. I opened the tin as both Mr. Stephens and Catherwood grabbed my grandfather by the arms as he began to fall. Inside were little vials covered in mesh so closely woven the glass could not escape; I held one under my grandfather’s nose as the two males eased him onto the floor, and crushed it.
A stink like dirty socks made me wrinkle my nose, but my grandfather’s face eased as he stopped clutching his chest. I put the smashed vial in my coat pocket. “Sir, are you alright? What happened?”
Standing at my grandfather’s shoulder, Corneal looked down at me in surprise. “Your grandfather’s got a heart condition. Didn’t you know?”
“He… did not,” my grandfather said as he rested against Catherwood, who was propping him up. Grandfather let out a long breath and opened his eyes. “I kept it from everyone.”
“I would have done the same,” Jarl Aran said as he sat back down in his chair. “Power rests on the illusion that the one holding it is strong, and the ‘Black Lion of Londinium’, cannot be seen as either weak or frail.”
“Or vain, as I fear I am. Corneal was with me when I had my first episode and helped me keep up the illusion that nothing was wrong. However, instead of letting the family in on my secret, I thought I could maintain control of it and keep it hidden.”
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“Father has been stealing more and more of your authority away,” I said, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “If he had known you were ill-”
“I am not ill,” my grandfather said irritably. “I have a condition, which I treat with those aspirols.”
“As someone who creates monsters,” Jarl Aran said, “I have a good understanding of human systems and the Aethyr spells that can set things to right.”
My grandfather was already shaking his head. “Too much Terramagica affinity. Professor Alar tried, but he could not get past it.”
“Aethyr vapor can be condensed into a liquid, then crystallized into a needle-like rod,” Jarl Aran said, “which when thrust into a muscle, changes a human’s affinity to Aethyr for a few hours. I am going to be returning to the Olde Norse Empire once the expedition is on its way, so when it is over and you return to England, send a message through our offices in Londinium and I will meet you in Copenhagen, to see if I cannot cure you of this condition.”
Grandfather gave him a skeptical look. “Provided Jonathan comes with me.”
“Shabaka, I am not your enemy. I do not want your grandson going into such a dangerous place as the wild lands of the Maya; I want him to come back with me, back to the Norse lands, where I can keep him safe and let him work out his destiny in a way that helps my race and his. However, I will not force the issue.” His expression became knowing. “There is something mysterious in play here, something to do with the Eldarion with an Artifact hand who told you to join this expedition.”
My grandfather’s expression hardened. “How do you know about that?”
“The Olde Norse Empire has Scottish spies as well as English, and while I am in no way connected to our intelligence service, I am kept informed.” Jarl Aran held up a hand with its palm out. “As I said, I will not force the issue. All I ask is that you consider my offer. Nothing more.”
My grandfather’s face relaxed as he nodded. “My word of honor that your… generous offer, shall be considered.” He seemed to suppress a sigh. “I believe I would like to take a bath now, and then lie down for a while, if that is alright.”
“Of course.” I knelt down and let my grandfather lean on me, Catherwood also helping him get to his feet as Jarl Aran said, “The three of you will doubtless want to do the same. We can meet in a few hours for a late lunch, and then Corneal can give you a tour of the city.”
“Jonathan,” Corneal said, “I’ll get someone to take your measurements, then send Miss Rose out to buy you some clothes. She has excellent taste; almost as good as mine.”
I agreed, and as everyone headed towards the door, a thought crossed my mind. I looked at Jarl Aran. “Right before the lion illusion knocked Professor Bella away, she said no one understood what I am, and that she would make me a Demigod, which makes no sense. Was that just on account of the monsters?”
He hesitated. “Actually, there is more to the legend, though I believe it to be foolishness and naught else. In the thirteenth century there was a Welsh monk who supposedly had visions, and according to his babbling, the Destroyer King would scatter drops of his blood upon the earth, from which ravening monsters would spring forth and command the old gods to appear, beginning with the least of them and ending with Chronos. He would then become something of a god himself and be worshiped by what remained of the humans, while the Eldarions would regain their lost thrones and rule the world in peace.”
I stared at him in horror. “The cultists actually believe that?”
Jarl Aran gave me a wry smile. “Incredible, is it not? Even though it is impossible for a human to command Aethyr spirits or use Aethyr at all, the cultists believe this will eventually happen. Why do you think I am so concerned for your welfare? These cultists are mad, as mad as the monk who began this entire idiocy with his secret book and his forbidden writings, and they will stop at nothing to capture you and find a way to bring you over to their side.”
I shuddered in horror and Corneal put a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s all nonsense. Well, maybe not the monster part, but frankly, I think that’s way overblown.”
As we walked into the hallway, I said, “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely. People are all the time claiming bad things are going to happen, but then, poof! Either nothing, or something not nearly as bad as what they claimed.”
“If Corneal is correct,” Catherwood said, “then perhaps Jonathan has less to fear.”
“When you come to Copenhagen, we will test you and see just how strong your blood is,” Jarl Aran said. “For now, take my advice and be careful in your choice of bed partners. Only half-blood Eldarion girls are safe.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your star-cells inhabit not only your blood, but all of your bodily fluids. Anyone with Eldarion blood is immune from becoming a monster by either injection, which is fastest, or by drinking the mixture, which takes longer. However, if a child was conceived after the Eldarion mother drank such a mixture, the half-blood Eldarion child would definitely be born able to change into the creature specified by the potion.”
“But a half-blood Eldarion would be safe?”
Jarl Aran nodded. “Half-blood Eldarion girls cannot bear children.”
Catherwood asked, “What about a human lover?”
“If given the mixture, she would eventually change into the specified creature, as would any female of any other race.” All at once, he smiled. “It is a shame that the race of the Fae died off, because the old lore says that, if a Fae had regular carnal relations with someone who had been changed by a spell, like your birthmark, for example, over time the Fae absorbed the spell and it became a part of them. The difference is, the Fae could then use the spell any way she wished.”
As we reached the front desk, I asked, “I have never heard of such creatures. What were they?”
Catherwood answered. “True shape-changers who could become anything of equal size to themselves. Supposedly, they could wield any type of magical energy they wanted, either Aethyr or Terramagica, and unlike the rest of the races, who become better over time at drawing energy and using it, the Fae were born with the ability to create their own.”
“According to our legends,” Jarl Aran said, “the Fae died out around the time that Eldarion civilization was beginning to flower. They were supposed to be an exceedingly long-lived race, with rare births, but when a child was growing up, they generated a tremendous amount of energy.”
“Think of yourself at eight or nine,” Catherwood said.
My grandfather chuckled. “At that age, Jonathan had more energy than the rest of the family combined.”
“Consider a child generating Aethyr and Terramagica energy at that rate without any idea of how to control it,” Jarl Aran said. “According to the legend, a Fae child was born without the rest of the race knowing, the mother died, and thus the child grew up wild. Supposedly the child did something that killed off the rest of the Fae, and the Eldarions picked up the pieces of their lost civilization.”
“What happened to the child?” I asked.
Jarl Aran shrugged. “The legend does not say, though I doubt the child survived.”
“If there was such a child at all,” Catherwood said. “In the last couple centuries, Eldarion scholars have begun to doubt whether the old legends have any validity.”
“We still believe,” Jarl Aran said. His voice became implacable as stone. “The Eldarion-Norse hold to the old traditions of our people, and that includes unwavering belief in the tales from times long past.”
“Regardless,” my grandfather said, “what you have passed on to us only reaffirms the care I have taken with Jonathan’s upbringing.” He turned to look at me. “Now, more than ever, you must hold yourself to a higher standard than those around you. In time, we will find you a wife who will not only bear you children but raise your social status, along with a half-blood Eldarion girl to be your mistress, but until that time I want you to promise me that you will remain faithful to our ideals.”
“I promise to try. But sir, at times…”
My words trailed off as he placed his hand on my shoulder. “I know. When I was your age, I was as lusty a lad as anyone in the regiment and envied by at least half of it.” I smiled with him before he shook his head. “However, with you, everything has changed.”
“I know,” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I really shall do my best, sir.”
“Your grandfather is a wise man,” Jarl Aran said. He hesitated a moment, then went on. “Not to raise your grandfather’s anger again, but the intelligence service did report a friendship developing between you and the daughter of Starshine and Ambassador Bannon.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the gold locket and opened it up to show him her face as it would become in several years. He gave me a warm smile. “Quite striking for one of mixed blood. Young man, if you are serious about wanting to raise your social status, you could do far worse. Both her parents have political connections you will not find elsewhere.”
I had not even considered any of that when I had become friends with Myste, political connections meaning more to my family than it did to me. But I nodded and put the gold necklace away as Corneal said, “If you’re serious about this higher standard business, I’ll warn off Miss Rose. She was looking forward to putting in some afterhours overtime, if you catch my meaning.”
“Now that I know exactly why these cultists are after my grandson, I do not plan to leave Jonathan unguarded any longer. And yes, I am serious about his keeping to a higher standard.”
“Don’t push him too far, Shabaka,” Corneal said. His normally jolly face had gone serious as if someone had just died. “We all have desires that cannot be changed, only suppressed. And not forever.”
“Corneal, everyone’s nature can be changed with the desire to do so, tempered by discipline.”
“Tell that to the Commodore,” he replied, his voice going bitter as three-day old coffee. “I’m sure he’d love to hear it. Now, if you four gentlemales are ready, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
My grandfather would not meet my eyes as we headed for the stairs.
According to Eldarion legends, Chronos was the father of all the gods they channeled Aethyr from. However, according to scientists, Aethyr energy is created by the Aethyr crystals embedded in the planetoids orbiting Earth, with each one associated with a different god. Each planetoid contains a mixture of light and dark crystals, giving off positive and negative energy respectively, with different effects depending on the energy used (I.E. positive is used to heal while negative is used to curse).
As the world became more civilized, the ones containing more dark than light energy fell out of favor, while the more positive ones were incorporated into various religions (morphing from gods into Catholic saints, for example). Many of the so called ‘Dark Gods’ were banned from Eldarion society altogether. Yet, a few still found them useful, and cults devoted to the dark ones continued to persist.