Dinavhek- The Fall Page 14

  He had gone to visit Takirar, at Hymuse's prompting, and returned back with both the prime minister and Sir Konrad at his side. Although the two of them seemed hopeful about the political landscape, he did not.

  Takirar was always unstable, and there was not a person alive in Dinavhek that could ever remember the wretched country being anything else. Relations between the two kingdoms became all the more tense following the sudden demise of its king.

  The news that Takirar had taken a new leader brought a tremendous wave of unease to the people of Dinavhek, leading to an increase in violent outbursts and general crime among the population. The knights found themselves overworked and understaffed, and the prince felt utterly worthless when it came to keeping the peace.

  The prince could not help but notice a change in him upon his return. Glanen, too, was curious about these developments, and he eagerly pressed his father for details. He did not divulge much to his friend, but Glanen informed him that an emissary from Toluduna had disappeared and was rumored to have been murdered.

  Strangely, in spite of the king's sour demeanor, the prince found himself “enjoying” significantly more leniency from his father than before. Although he was not allowed to return to Dre'shii, he had been given more freedom in terms of his movements within Aranaot in general. He began to visit one of the larger and nicer marketplaces far more often, usually bringing either Aasimah or Itholera along with him.

  This time, it was Itholera who accompanied him on his errands. Sweet, kind, and gentle Itholera, who listened to him ramble on and on without so much as a roll of the eyes – unlike Aasimah, who could be very cheeky when she wanted to be. Not that Adsuni really minded; she could wear on his patience every once in a while, but he found that he actually liked being challenged now and then. There were few people in his life who would ever openly disagree with him, and he found that trait refreshing in Aasimah.

  Still, it was a breath of fresh air to be around Itholera this time. She was kinder, more accommodating, and as he came to know her more, he discovered that she too possessed a desire to see more of their world. She enjoyed exploring new areas of Aranaot with him, and he enjoyed the support and companionship she offered him.

  Itholera had stopped by a blacksmith's stall, examining a collection of whetstones, all the while listening to the prince vent about his woes.

  “I know I have more freedom out of the whole affair, but I can't help feeling as if he's gone... mad. Well, I don't know, 'mad' probably isn't the best word to describe it, but he's just not himself anymore. He seems to be taken with the King's attendant, and he's invited her to stop by on a 'diplomatic meeting,' as he calls it. I think he has something else in mind, and I'm not sure I like it!”

  Itholera turned over one of the whetstones in her hand, examining it. The prince was impressed that she'd had such a keen eye for them, and it was obvious even to him that she'd picked the best one. She had also picked up a small vial of powder.

  “I'll give 'em both to ye for three silver,” the blacksmith grunted. He was a large, hairy man, with a lazy eye and a gap between his bottom teeth.

  She looked to the prince, as it was ultimately his decision to make. Adsuni nodded and produced three silver coins, and bade Itholera to come along. He had brought only two guards, ordering one to walk far ahead, and the other, to trail along behind, giving him a bit of space to continue speaking with Itholera. Or to, rather, for she said very little.

  “My father is a lonely man, to be frank. He... We lost my mother when I was a young boy. I don't really remember her much at all, but I've heard the stories about her. All he has left is his son, and his kingdom, and our greatest enemy seems to be rising to power again. It's no wonder he's losing his mind.”

  “He seems to be going a bit easier on you, at least, my lord,” Itholera observed. “Look at how much we've been able to see lately! Isn't that something to be happy about?”

  “It's only because he's forgotten I exist,” the prince said before he could catch himself. “I know I sound jealous, but that's not why I'm upset.”

  “May I ask, then, what is it that troubles you so?”

  The prince slowed down, mulling the question over. Stressed as he was, he found that he enjoyed talking to Itholera. She asked him a lot of questions that were difficult to answer, forcing him to look inward. Though she did it all with a gentle expression, devoid of cruel enjoyment, she could be hard on him in her own way, keeping him on his toes as much as Aasimah might with her own brand of blunt honesty. He needed that.

  “I don't trust this attendant. I know I haven't met her yet, and I should reserve judgment until I do, but there are...” the prince trailed off, at a loss for what to say. He couldn't tell Itholera about what Glanen had said to him. Konrad had been irresponsible in sharing the news with his son, and the prince owed it to them to keep such information secret.

  “There are dark rumors,” the prince continued, choosing his words carefully.

  “About this woman?”

  “Not exactly,” he clarified. “But about her king? Absolutely. Konrad has been a close friend of my father as long as I can remember. Glanen and I grew up together. We're practically brothers, he and I. If even one of these rumors about Takirar's new king proves true, then can we really trust his attendant? For her to be pursuing my father, that just doesn't seem right.”

  Itholera's eyes narrowed a bit at that. “How do you know she's the one pursuing him?” she asked, catching him off guard.

  Adsuni brought a hand up to the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. “That was an awfully old-fashioned thing of me to say, wasn't it?”

  “If by 'old-fashioned,' you mean completely – what does Aasimah say?”

  “Arse backwards,” the prince laughed. Itholera blushed. Though she was no longer a noblewoman, she had not lost her discomfort towards vulgarity. “Very crass if you ask me, but it gets the point across. I know I probably don't have any good reason to distrust her right away. I just can't shake the feeling that this attendant is after something, and I don't think it's love. I want Father to be happy, but...”

  Itholera's hand fell upon his wrist. He looked down at her, silently inviting her to continue.

  “You're worried that this happiness is only temporary, and that it might end in misery for you both,” Itholera finished for him sympathetically.

  The prince nodded. She was a perceptive one.

  “It's hard to believe my Father hasn't even met either of you,” he said, changing the subject with a brief laugh. “How long have you been with us, now? You and Aasimah, I mean.”

  Itholera smiled shyly. “Nearly four months, my lord. And I have enjoyed nearly every moment of it.”

  The prince gave her a suspicious, though short-lived smirk. “You don't need to say that. The work is menial, your only payment comes in the form of a leaky roof over your head, and the man you serve above all – including even myself – hasn't said one word to you. You don't need to pretend to enjoy it for my sake.”

  They had reached the end of that particular market street, finding themselves in a much more rundown area than before. The prince regretted being so unaware of his surroundings. He held out a hand, signaling Itholera to stop. She obeyed, standing a few paces behind him nervously.

  Where were his guards?

  When the prince thought of danger, he thought of dark alleys, in the dead of night, infested with all manners of criminals. This street came fairly close to those mental images, and it amazed the prince how greatly a city could change at the turn of a street.

  The raucous laughter and shouting from the market could not be heard, the delectable scent of freshly baked bread was replaced by the strong stench of urine, and the buildings were in a worse state than the burnt shacks of Dre'shii. When he and Glanen were younger, they used to play all sorts of games, pretending to catch cutthroats and would-be assassins. In a child's mind, a twig the length of his forearm was just as good as a steel sword.


  But he was no longer a young boy. He was the prince of Dinavhek, and he had blundered into unfamiliar territory. To make matters worse, he was responsible for another life, that of Itholera. He supposed it wasn't proper for a prince to be so concerned with the life of a servant, but that ship, he decided, had already sailed.

  “We should go back,” he said, his eyes darting around as he checked out his surroundings. There was little conviction in his voice, which surprised him, and certainly seemed to surprise Itholera.

  Apprehensive as he was, Adsuni couldn't help feeling that it was no accident he had found himself in this particular alley. He felt a pull, as if there was something there that he desperately needed to see. It made no sense to him, and he couldn't put Itholera in danger.

  And yet...

  “Pr-Prince,” Itholera stammered, closing the gap between them. “We shouldn't be here. This – this isn't safe, the king – I mean, your father wouldn't want—”

  Itholera had erred greatly in mentioning his father. With a sudden burst of determination, Adsuni found himself strolling down the alley. It wasn't like him to be so defiant, but then, he'd been a rather docile boy in his youth. Perhaps he was overdue for a rebellious phase. He just hoped that he would come out of this one alive. It was oddly thrilling to rush off into the unknown, without a care in the world. Foolhardy, but exhilarating nonetheless.

  Poor Itholera, finding herself suddenly alone, and uncertain about what she should do, simply stood there and stared after him for a moment. Seeing the prince seem to disappear around the corner, she snapped out of it and followed after him.

  *​*​*

  It was almost as if he were a completely different person – again. Now that Dre'shii had stabilized, Glanen had been forced to withdraw his support, returning to his duties as a royal knight. Many of Glanen's friends were thrilled to have him back, and he knew he should be equally so, but something had changed within him, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

  Oh, he still enjoyed sparring, but he found himself starting to zone out more during the meetings with his captain. He began to dread his missions, increasingly so, though he would never admit it. Always a dreamer, he used to spend much of his free time thinking of battle, imagining himself striking down terrible and mighty foes, basking in the approving cheers of the commonfolk and fellow knights alike.

  Now, his thoughts had a pesky habit of straying off toward that beautiful little village, to his time spent with Aasimah and Adsuni building homes and livestock pens.

  He looked forward to hearing about little Raisa's progress in learning how to read far more than he did the prospect of another brawl. He would rather herd goats and sheep than train new recruits. He longed for afternoons spent hammering nails as opposed to evenings drinking with his fellow knights in the Academy hall.

  Even his horse seemed to have changed a bit, or perhaps he was just projecting his own feelings onto the animal. Still, it seemed that Xanthus had grown tired of training and became more resistant to leaving the stable. Some days, the knight was forced to make do with one of the Academy's horses.

  Presently, Glanen was in charge of training the latest recruit, a scrawny merchant's son who had signed up for the Knighthood seemingly only for the promise of coin.

  Was that really what they'd become? Common sell-swords? Glanen wondered.

  Having been granted permission to leave the palace, so long as she was under the guard of either Glanen or Adsuni, Aasimah sat beneath a nearby tree and watched him as he sparred with the new blood. She hadn't known Glanen for very long before the incident with Dre'shii, and so she supposed she had misjudged the man initially, thinking him an overzealous fool. During these training exercises, he definitely appeared so.

  Focused as he was on the sparring matches, he was totally oblivious to his own safety and regularly ended up with nasty, though thankfully not life-threatening injuries.

  This day, it looked to Aasimah as if he were the same man that she'd met four months ago. At first, anyway. He laughed and showed off and pushed himself to his absolute limits. It was only after he'd taken a deep cut to his cheek that he finally gave in. The healer, an elderly man with a noticeable bend in his back, hobbled over to him, offering to dress his wound. Glanen foolishly declined, and instead sought out Aasimah.

  “You should let him look at that,” Aasimah said to him.

  Glanen nodded, but did not retreat. Instead, he sat down next to her, falling roughly on the ground beneath him. His armor creaked slightly.

  “You don't have to show off for my sake,” Aasimah added, offering him water. “I've seen you in battle, I know you can take a beating.”

  “Then you know that this is nothing,” he responded with a friendly chuckle.

  “It won't be nothing if you don't take care of it.”

  “Concerned?”

  “Yes,” Aasimah said, catching him by surprise.

  Glanen took a lengthy gulp from the waterskin and stayed quiet for a moment. “It'll be fine. I've had worse. But,” he said, noticing her scowl, “I will let him tend to it, I promise.”

  “You've changed.”

  The knight looked at her curiously. “So have you.”

  “It's been an... eventful few months,” Aasimah conceded. “It's funny to think about, I guess. The prince once told me a story about the elves. He tried to, anyway, I wasn't really paying attention. I thought him foolish for even thinking about it, but now I wonder, what would life be like, if we lived for centuries instead of decades? How much more we might see?”

  “I wouldn't mind, as long as my friends did.”

  “Because of all the glorious battles you might get to have together? The reputation you might build as a mighty band of warriors?” Aasimah teased.

  The knight did not respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, enjoying the soft, caressing breeze and the smell the many flowers that rained down upon them from the tree. It was a calm day, a peaceful one, training injuries aside. Seeing him so relaxed, Aasimah felt she had her answer. He – no, they had changed.

  “I had you pegged as a meat head, when we first met,” Aasimah confessed.

  “You weren't wrong,” Glanen said, laughing openly. “And you wouldn't be wrong if you still did.”

  “No, I was wrong. I understand you, now, better than I did before. Your devotion is sincere. You live by your principles, and you follow your heart. I think it's foolish, to be so trusting of others, to devote your life to them, of course. But,” she said with a helpless little laugh, “that is your natural state. Your devotion to the prince and his people defines you.”

  Glanen opened his eyes, giving her a lengthy glance, and wearing that same great smile that rarely left his face. If he was at all offended by her statement, he wasn't showing it.

  “You're not nearly so heartless as you like to say you are, you know. I notice things, too. You came to Dre'shii, alone, to help me in battle. You were my only reinforcement. It is thanks to you that we won the day.”

  Aasimah winced, and Glanen knew he'd hit a sore spot. He reached out a comforting hand, patting her on the shoulder the way he might one of his fellow knights. Her eyes widened at the gesture, and she looked back at him with an expression that was more curious than angry.

  “Maybe you really are a meat-head, after all,” she said at last, with a smirk that did not hold up for very long.

  The knight laughed again, and gazed up at the clouds, his constant reminder that there was so much more to the world that remained beyond his reach. He thought of Aasimah's revelation regarding the prince. So, he too was curious about the lands of the non-humans?

  Glanen thought back to the tales his father used to tell him when he was a little boy, stories of grand adventures in the lands of the dwarves and elves meant to lull him into a comfortable sleep. His stories tended to have the opposite effect for little Glanen, who longed for an opportunity to travel the world.

  Dinavhek was all he really knew, and he loved h
er, and her people, dearly. Still, he had to wonder how much was he missing out on by staying there.

  As Aasimah picked at yellow dandelions in the grass, Glanen's thoughts strayed back to those bedtime stories, to lands that the young knight had never before seen except in his own mind's eye.

  His moment of peace was marred by the sounds of the trainees resuming their matches, tugging the young knight away from his dreams by force, and for the first time, he truly felt as if he were trapped. A cursory side-glance at Aasimah showed him that she, too, felt the same way.

  *​*​*

  “My lord!” Itholera whispered, having caught up to Adsuni.

  He felt her tug against the sleeve of his robe, and he ignored the mildly irritating sensation. There was an urgency in his steps, and as far as he was concerned, it would take no less than a battalion to stop him.

  They hadn't gone far. That was what he'd assumed, at least. It wouldn't be difficult to find their way back, though the prince had no intention of doing so in the near future. He continued along his course resolutely.

  Now and then, he could hear, and sometimes see rats scurrying about. He narrowly avoided stepping in a pile of excrement more than once, and chose to believe that said waste had come from some sort of animal, and not another human. Itholera stayed close behind him, too afraid to turn back and head off to the palace alone. Not that the prince would have allowed her; he knew he was being foolish, but she was still safer if she remained with him.

  “Where are we going?” Itholera asked.

  “I don't know.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I don't know,” the prince said again.

  “Why—?”

  “—I don't know.”

  Itholera quieted, and for the first time, the prince detected a hint of anger emanating from her. She had every reason to be, he reasoned. Try as he might, he could not convince himself to turn back around and head towards safety. He wandered the dingy, run-down back alleys of Aranaot, feeling as if a whole new world has opened up to him.