Haladras (11 page)

“During the long period of Tarus’ transformation from man to
beast—nay, to puppet, for indeed Morvath had become his master. During this
time, Athylian married the Lady Lenovee, daughter of Lord Rowvan of Allega, of
the House Gilderad. Athylian’s people loved their new queen with the same
affection they held for their king, but more so. They adored her. And so the two
great houses, Ducädese and Gilderad were joined.

“Still, Tarus’ heart grew colder, his perverse desires
stronger. He and his puppet-master bided their time, however. Others close to
Athylian endeavored to warn the king of the change in Tarus. I was among them.”

Krom paused and nodded slowly as Skylar looked at him
quizzically.

“Yes,” he continued, “I tried to open the king’s eyes. He
would hear none of it, too loyal to his friend to believe Tarus would harm him.
Though, deep inside I doubt not he knew a dark shroud had fallen over Tarus.

“Three years after the jubilant union of Athylian and
Lenovee, the queen gave birth to a daughter; a year later, a son. Korbyn, they
named him. This stunned Tarus. He had not anticipated the young prince’s
birth—yet another barrier to the throne. Too impatient to prolong his reign, he
and Morvath laid plans on the very night of the prince’s birth to bring about
his secret design.

“With Morvath as his brains, Tarus made a covenant with the
Tors that he would put the entire royal family into their hands in exchange for
wealth and immunity. Still smarting from their ignominious defeat by King
Yurik, the Tors eagerly accepted a chance for revenge.

“The evil conspirators set to execute their dark plans on
the upcoming anniversary of the king and queen. Then Tarus went to work. With
all the pretense of a loving, concerned friend, Tarus gently persuaded Athylian
to take a much-needed break from his duties as king. Athylian was at first
opposed to such an idea. But Tarus’ persistence eventually paid off. He managed
to convince Athylian to take his little family to a secluded part of the
kingdom, dressed as commoners, without royal guards or kingly entourage, for
five days. For in Tarus’ own words, ‘surely the empire will not crumble to
ruins in just five days.’

“And so their plans were set. The king and queen, the young
princess and the infant prince would surreptitiously leave Ahlderon in the
night and travel to Limril Lake where they would vacation in a small cottage.
Tarus made all the arrangements, taking special care that ‘only the most
trusted servants’ knew of the king’s plans. The royal family would go alone,
but for one faithful man servant—a bodyguard of sorts.

“From that point on it was all too simple for Tarus. Once
the royal family slipped away from Ahlderon, Morvath advised the Tors.
Employing a stolen ship, the Tors landed undetected near the secret retreat,
found and assassinated the royal family, then quietly fled the scene.

“Word soon reached Ahlderon, and Tarus’ ears. I was present
when he received it. I saw that traitor’s feigned shock, his forced tears, his
mock anguish. I knew as soon as I saw this escapade that he had played a role
in it. His eyes were as guilty as a man’s caught with a bloody dagger in his
clenched fist. Yet I held my tongue. I possessed no real evidence to accuse
him. And so I was forced to watch that scoundrel as he hoodwinked the empire
with his false love for Athylian.

“Knowing his window of chance would shortly close, Tarus seized
command, and ordered Athylian’s generals to prepare for an attack. He planned
to betray the Tors, who wished to take control of the empire. No sooner were
Athylian’s battle hosts arrayed than the Tors appeared. But they were quickly
thwarted. The generals knew their strategy.

“Thus Tarus became a savior overnight and all he had to do
was to claim the crown for his own. Though it was their right, not one of the
seven ruling lords challenged his claim to the throne. The people had already
chosen their new king.”

Krom was quiet for a moment, as if the story were complete.
Skylar ventured a question.

“It’s a remarkable and chilling tale. But what does it have
to do with me?”

Some moments more passed before Krom made any sign that he
had heard Skylar’s question. And when he resumed speaking his voice sounded low
and distant.

“When news reached Tarus of the royal family’s
assassination, he promptly commissioned a group to inspect the scene. He wanted
to be sure they were all dead, you see? I was among the group whom Tarus sent.
The burnt remains of two adults and a young girl were found, but no trace
whatever of the infant prince, nor of the servant. At this my hope renewed. I
knew the servant to be shrewd. No doubt he managed to save the prince’s life, I
thought, and suspecting treachery, fled with the babe to protect him from
Tarus.

“The others of our group knew nothing of the servant. And
with little argument did I convince them that the prince must certainly be
dead, his fragile body entirely consumed by the fire. Thus, when we returned to
Ahlderon, the leader of our commission reported and confirmed the entire royal
family’s death.

“As soon as I dared leave Ahlderon without raising
suspicion, I set off to find the prince. I found their trail easily enough. A
single man, traveling with a babe is something people notice. After nearly a
month, their trail finally led me to a small, sparsely populated planet—a
mining colony. The name of that planet was Haladras. And they had changed the
baby’s name from Korbyn to Skylar.”

TEN

S
KYLAR
FELT UTTERLY
stunned.

“You think I’m the missing prince?” he stammered out.
“That’s impossible. My mother’s very much alive. Nor is she a queen—I’m sure of
that. My father died before I was even born. And he was a miner.”

Krom deflected Skylar’s challenges with a mere shake of his
head.

“Prince Korbyn Ducädese thou art. Dahra Lancewright, though
she is as much a mother as anyone could be, is not the woman who gave you life.
Nor was your father a miner, but Athylian himself. That man whom you call uncle
is no uncle to you, but the same man-servant who saved your life and brought
you to Haladras.”

Despite the galvanized conviction in Krom’s voice, Skylar
refused to believe him. The man was an utter stranger. Lasseter may have
trusted these strange men. That did not mean Skylar ought to. Perhaps they had
duped his uncle.

“My uncle...” replied Skylar emphatically, “if he is not my
uncle, why is it that we look so much alike?”

“As I said, Lasseter was also a bodyguard to Athylian—to
your father. He was appointed to the position because of his physical likeness
to Athylian. He is no clone of Athylian, mind you. Anyone who knew the king
could easily distinguish which was king and which was servant. But from a
distance, one might easily mistake one for the other.”

Skylar frowned. A man-servant and bodyguard who looked like
King Athylian had taken him as an infant to Haladras to escape the wicked King
Tarus? It all sounded too far-fetched.

“Why do you think the Trackers attacked you as they did?”
asked Krom, obviously reading the doubts in Skylar’s face. “Those were
Morvath’s machines.”

“They made a mistake,” insisted Skylar. “Besides, if Tarus
believes the prince dead, why would he send out the Trackers?”

Krom nodded, understanding the sense in the question.

“For nearly a decade, Tarus lived without knowledge of your
existence. During those years, we kept a close eye on Tarus. It so happened
that one night one of the king’s advisors got himself drunk. He was one of
those commissioned with me. He was at a tavern making merry with a few friends
when the subject of Athylian came up.

“‘How I miss the days of Athylian,’ said one. ‘Aye,’ said
another, ‘and curse those murder’n Tors for taken him from us.’

“Then the first added, ‘And for taking our Queen, the little
princess and tiny prince. Poor little ones. They might have been great like
their father.’

“‘Aye, poor little prince,’ said the advisor absently. ‘We
couldn’t even find his body to give him a proper burial.’

“A hush quickly fell over the tavern. All eyes stared at the
advisor. Despite his drunken state, he realized his blunder and attempted to
correct it. ‘That is,’ he said, ‘we only found part of the body.’ But it was no
use. The secret had been let loose.

“Within two days, Morvath’s ears heard the news from one of
his special servants. The advisor was summoned before the king and made to
confess all, before being executed. With devilish cunning, Morvath’s servants
tracked down all who were in the tavern that night and killed them. The rest of
the original commission—excepting myself—he executed, as well. Then he set out
to find you. He has been looking ever since.”

Skylar sat, taking it all in. How could he believe such a
tale?

“How could the Trackers know I’m the prince? There’s no proof
of it.”

Krom chuckled quietly. “They sampled your blood. Did you not
notice a prick on your skin shortly before they overtook you?”

“Yes, but—”

“They matched your chromosome signature to your parents.
Morvath and Tarus now have no doubt about your existence. They will stop at
nothing to find you.”

“And,” he added grimly, “you do not want them to find you.”

Skylar furrowed his brows and shook his head. He couldn’t
believe it. He refused to believe it. How could everything he knew about
himself be wrong?

“What about my mother, then? If she is not my mother, who is
she? How is it she knows nothing of this?”

 “She is the same woman who you have always known. Her
husband did die before you were born. A miner he was, but not your father. Your
mother was pregnant with her first child when he died. But that child did not
live more than a few hours. Lasseter, searching for someone to care for you,
heard of your mother’s loss, and sought her out. To her he offered the chance
to be a mother. A chance she might never have again. She took it.

“To avoid gossip among those who knew your mother, Lasseter
took you and your mother to Kaladra, where he assumed the role of your uncle
and she of your mother. Few know better than she what your true identity is,
and that one day you would likely leave her.”

“Why is it,” Skylar began, exasperation rising in his voice,
“that she never told me of this before? Lasseter never said anything either.”

“The less you knew...the less anyone knew about your
existence, the safer you were. Secrets are best kept by those who do not know
any.

“I know this is difficult for you to accept, Skylar,” he
continued. “Lasseter will validate what I’ve told you on the morrow. Rest now,
we rise early. We must journey to Allega. Lord Rowvan, your grandfather, shall
grant you protection and safe hiding. He’s yet unaware that you are still
alive.”

Skylar was roused from his fitful sleep by a hand on his
shoulder and a far-off voice speaking to him.

“Wake, my prince.”

Skylar groaned and forced his weary eyes to crack open. He
saw only gray shapes, unfocused.

“We must be off,” came the voice again, less distant this
time. Skylar’s eyes flickered opened and shut several times before he realized
where he was. He groaned again, realizing the nightmare from the previous day
was real. He looked up at the dark figure hunched over him. Though the light of
dawn had yet to vanquish the night, he recognized the figure as the man his
uncle had called Grim Galloway.

“There’s a morsel of bread on the table for you,” he said in
a low voice, “and some water. Hasten to eat it. We depart presently.”

Skylar glanced around the room. Krom sat at the table, his
hands clasped around a mug, his gaze far-off. Endrick stooped in a corner,
preparing a pack. He saw no sign of Lasseter. Heeding Grim’s instructions,
Skylar went to the table and began eating the scanty meal.

“We must leave the city gates at first light,” said Krom
once Skylar had finished his meal. “Until we are out of Amrahdel you are in
great danger. The king’s soldiers prowl the streets like starving wolves. Once
out of the city, we shall head north to the Gray Forest to seek the aid of the
Mauwik.”

Skylar listened to Krom as one in a trance, hearing but not
comprehending. He made no reply. Skylar was vaguely aware, then, of footsteps
sounding on the hollow floor behind him. Then a familiar voice brought him
fully from his morning daze.

“Does he know?” asked his uncle.

“All,” replied Krom. “Though how much he believes is another
matter.”

Skylar felt the firm, calloused hand of his uncle grip his
shoulder. He looked up imploringly at this man whom he thought he knew since
his childhood, whom he’d treated like a father.

“How can all this be true?” asked Skylar, almost pleadingly.
“Krom tells me I’m Athylian’s son. That the woman I call mother is not truly my
mother. And that you’re not my real uncle. Tell me there’s some mistake.”

Lasseter stared down at him with his penetrating green eyes.
There was sadness in them as he shook his head.

“There’s no mistake, Skylar. I’m not your uncle. And your
mother...not the woman who gave you birth.”

Truth had dealt Skylar a heavy blow when he first heard it
from Krom’s lips. Coming from Lasseter, however, nearly caused tears to well in
his eyes. He felt deceived, lied to, abandoned, alone. He wanted to see his
mother. She would not feed him this pack of lies. She would not—.

Skylar put his head into his hands, and wished for the
nightmare to end.

He had no choice but to follow Krom and his companions.
Where else could he go?

The early dawn air felt cold and harsh as the companions
quietly stepped out into the sleeping streets. Skylar shivered and pulled his
cloak tighter around his body. The clouds above hung low and heavy, like a gray
cloak over the sky. The dwelling houses and buildings, constructed of wood
weathered with age, were equally gray. Small puddles of water riddled the muddy
streets, which looked gray in the faint light of morning.

They walked along silently, the hoods of their cloaks
masking their faces. Krom led the small band as they navigated the narrow
streets of Amrahdel. More than once they passed a soldier or two on the street.
Of these, however, all were heavily drunken and passed out, collapsed against a
wall or lying on the ground. These inebriated soldiers were the only signs of
life they saw until they drew closer to the city gates.

Gradually, people began filling the streets, all walking in
the same direction as Skylar and his new companions. The people showed little
more life than the unconscious soldiers. They trudged onward, heads bent low,
shoulders hunched under the weight of gray sacks or rusted farming tools. Their
faces were as gray and haggard as the threadbare clothes about their frail
bodies. A few mud-spattered carts, pulled by bedraggled beasts with shaggy gray
hair, matted and blotched with mud, joined the crowd and pressed mutely toward
the gates.

“We shall split up in the crowd,” whispered Grim, who had
come up quietly beside him. “Try to stay toward the center. Keep your face
covered and shoulders hunched. Once through the gate, continue walking with the
crowd. We shall regroup once out of sight.”

So saying, Grim fell back behind him, and the
companions—including Lasseter—gradually drifted apart until they were
indistinguishable from the other lifeless forms walking mechanically onward.
Skylar suddenly felt very alone.

Hunching his shoulders, he gravitated near the middle of the
street, where he followed behind one of the gray corpses. Ahead, the throng
thickened as the people funneled through the city gates. Soon, Skylar entered
that funnel. Gray figures began pressing uncomfortably close to him. Forced to
slow his pace to a mere shuffle by the mass of bodies in front of him, Skylar
felt all the more nervous as he came near to the sentries.

Two armed and alert sentries stood at either side of the
gates, watching the lifeless figures pass by with scornful glances. Skylar
increased the hunch in his shoulders and endeavored to appear as downtrodden as
those around him. Though he wished not to believe Krom’s story or that his life
was in peril, something about the look of these sentries made him not want
anything to do with them.

From the depths of this hood, Skylar watched the sentry at
his left with the corner of this eye. Despite the dense pack of people pressed
around him, he felt as conspicuous as a man with a target strapped to his
forehead.

The throng slowed to an agonizing pace. Skylar suffocated.
He longed to be free of the walking corpses, to be past the guards. His heart
froze for an instant. The sentry on his right had fixed his narrow eyes on
Skylar and held them there as Skylar inched his way forward. He tried to stay
calm, to stay as zombie-like as he could.

Perhaps he’s glaring at the man next to me,
he tried
to console himself.

But no sooner had he thought so, than the sentry shouted,
“Oi! You there. Halt, I say.”

Skylar froze mid-step. The mute bodies around him did
likewise, looking about with utter confusion, terror filling their red-rimmed
eyes. The sentry stepped out from his post and forced his way through the
throng, pushing over those in his way like they were no more than dried reeds.
Not knowing what to do, Skylar stood where he was, expecting at any second to
either be shoved aside or arrested.

The man beside him fell to the ground with a piteous moan.
The sentry advanced and took Skylar by the arm, spinning him so that he faced
the sentry’s grimy face.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said,
disdain edging his voice. “Who are you? What’s your business? Remove that hood
of yours.”

The sentry made as if to do it himself. He stopped short. A
sudden commotion broke out behind them. Both Skylar and the sentry turned to
see what the matter was. Skylar’s eyes grew wide. One of the shaggy-haired
animals was careening straight toward them, its wooden cart swaying and
bouncing wildly in its wake. The crowd had sprung to life, throwing themselves
out of the path of the charging beast. With a mere second to react, Skylar dove
to the side of the street just as the beast and cart barged through where he
and the sentry had stood.

The sentry had also dived to the earth, but was instantly on
his feet again, chasing after the runaway cart. Indignant at having nearly been
run over, he seemed intent on seeking vengeance on the frightened animal.

Somewhat shakily, Skylar rose to his feet and attempted to
clean off some of the mud which now caked his clothes.

“Leave it,” whispered a deep voice beside him, as a firm
hand took his arm and urged him forward. “Now you’ll blend in better. Let us be
gone from here. The sentry will likely return soon.”

Though he did not look to confirm, he thought he recognized
the man’s voice as that of Grim’s.

The two hastened onwards as best they could while staying
hidden among the dissipating crowd. Once they reached a safe distance from
Amrahdel, Grim broke off from the road and headed straight toward the woods.

“Did
you
frighten that animal to distract the
sentry?” asked Skylar, when he deemed it safe to speak.

“Perhaps,” replied Grim.