Suriax (2 page)

Frex opened the locket and stared down at the
painting inside. It held the image of a young girl. The resemblance
to both Kern and Frex was undeniable. She had the same dark black
hair as Kern. Frex’s was mostly silver, now, though it was once the
same color. They all shared the same long nose, blue eyes and a
slight curve near the tip of their pointed elven ears. She was
Kern’s mother and Frex’s only sister. Kern had very few memories of
her. Frex raised him from the time he was a baby. She visited, but
it was always brief. She told him they would be together one day.
This was just temporary. Then she died when he was in his thirties.
She and Frex were very close and he took her death particularly
hard. There were weeks he barely ate, and the sadness in his eyes
never really went away.

Frex was silent for several minutes, his
thumb tracing the lines of her face. Finally, he closed the locket
and stood, walking to a cabinet across the room. Taking out a large
leather bound book, he returned to his seat. “There are things I
need to tell you. I should have said something before now, but I
honestly never thought it would matter, and I could not bring
myself to talk about certain things. But time is running out for
me, and you deserve to know who you are and where you came
from.”

“Uncle, what do you mean?” He could chalk the
cryptic talk up to the ramblings of an old man, but for once, his
uncle’s eyes were completely clear and his entire demeanor was
serious. Whatever he needed to say was obviously important to
him.

Opening the book, he revealed a map showing
Aleria and Suriax as one single city.

“How much do you know about the history of
Aleria?”

Kern thought back. “Not much. It was founded
by King . . . Emerien. Then his son and grandchildren had a power
struggle, and they split up the city, founding Suriax.”

Frex cringed. “I have much to explain.
Emerien was a kindhearted, benevolent ruler, and a good and loyal
friend to those he cared for.”

“You sound as though you knew him.”

Frex nodded. “We grew up together. I stood
beside him at his wedding.”

Kern could not have been more shocked. Sure,
he worked for the queen, but he hardly knew her. They only met on
rare occasions when she needed to give her orders personally. She
never remembered his name. To be friends with someone who founded a
city was something else entirely.

“I still remember when he met Carol. She was
a human, and he was a full elf. Back then such pairings were not
that common. As long lived as we are, we elves have a tendency to
look down on other races. Besides, if you live to be seven hundred
years old, why would you want to choose a mate who will die in less
than a hundred? But he loved Carol. Consulting with many wizards
and clerics, he finally found a way to join his life force with
hers. It cut his life in half, but it also extended her life by the
same measure. Of course, since they were joined, were he to die,
she would also fade away and die. His family was furious that he
would shorten his life so dramatically for a human. He founded
Aleria so they would have a place they could live in peace. Word of
their love and sacrifice spread wide, attracting many half elves,
humans and like minded elves. Aleria became a safe haven for those
previously outcast. Emerien’s dedication to law and justice led to
many prosperous, happy years for those who resided there. His rule
extended north to encompass the mountain settlements and farming
communities. Landowners practically begged to swear fealty to him
to avoid harsh taxation and cruel treatment from other kingdoms.
There was resistance at first. Kings do not typically want to lose
a tax source, but Emerien’s troops fought out of loyalty, not fear,
and other kingdoms soon learned it was not worth the trouble to
resist him.

Eventually Emerien fell to old age. He was
succeeded by his son, Veritan. Veritan was not kind or benevolent.
He was a corrupt, vile man without an ounce of compassion in his
entire heart.” Frex took a deep breath and forced himself to calm
down. “His rule was known as the time of Black Law.” Many people
were imprisoned for minor offenses. There were riots. People died.
You were born during all this madness. Your mother asked me to hide
you here, for your protection. Of course, that was before this
became Suriax. At that time, this was mostly undeveloped forests
and open land.”

“Why didn’t we return to Aleria once this
became Suriax?” It was something he often wondered. Frex never hid
his dislike of Suriax and its laws, but he insisted they must
remain there.

“I considered it, but anyone who may look for
you would do so there. Here no one would think to find you.”

“That is why you told me to lie about my
age,” Kern surmised, finally understanding.

Frex nodded. “The fewer people who knew where
you were from, the less likely anyone would be to ever put together
the pieces.”

“But why did we need to hide like that? Who
was after me, and why couldn’t Mom come with us?”

The pained look returned to his eyes. “Your
mother wanted to come with us.” Frex paused, uncertain in his next
words. “You mentioned before, the power struggle between Veritan
and his children, but you did not say its real cause. Convinced
things had gone too far after the death of their mother in one of
the riots, his children took control of the city. More like their
grandfather, they believed in the purity of the law. They blamed
their father’s perversion of the law for the chaos that led to her
death.”

“Their mom died in a riot? Sound like what
happened to my mother.” It was odd to think he could have something
in common with kings and queens.

Frex looked away, silently turning several
pages. Once he found the page he was looking for, he handed the
book to Kern. “This is a portrait of the royal family shortly
before King Emerien’s death.”

Kern looked at the picture. The king was
obviously old, but he looked happy, and his authority was easy to
see, even through a painting. He draped an arm affectionately
around a human woman who looked equally happy. Standing in front of
them was their son, Veritan. He was dressed in a button up coat
with a collar that reached to his chin, his hair carefully styled
to command respect and display strength. Beside him stood three
children, two boys and a girl, and their mother. Kern felt his
breath catch. The woman had midnight black hair, pearly white skin
and eyes a crystal pure ice blue. A slight grin played at her lips,
her chin tilted up defiantly. Her spirit called out to him. He knew
her face. It was the same face in the locket, the face of his
mother. Kern felt the book slip from his hands and fumbled to catch
it, closing it in the process. After several deep breaths he looked
up at his uncle. “How could you not tell me this sooner?”

“Your mother did not want you to be a part of
that world. She wanted you to have a good life. Veritan was
corrupted by his desire for power. Whatever good was once a part of
him when they married became lost over time. He and your siblings
often argued. There were times he tried to have them arrested, but
their own understanding of the law protected them. They were ever
vigilant to avoid any actions he could exploit, constantly finding
loopholes for anything he may try. Your mother worried about
introducing you to that world. She feared a life where you would
constantly need to watch your step and justify every action. Or
worse, she feared you may take after your father and learn his
cruelty. Hiding her pregnancy as long as she could, she traveled
here for the later months and your birth, asking me to care for you
when she returned to the city. She urged the triplets to leave with
her, but they felt obligated to defend Aleria and set things right.
Eventually, they did.”

“Who was that man who stole your locket,
then? All of this happened forever and a day ago. Why would anyone
even care about me or who my parent’s were?”

“I remember Cornerbluff as a child who lived
in the palace in Aleria. His father was a gnome cook in the
kitchen. His mother was an elven handmaid for your mother. Their
marriage would not have been ordinary in any other land, but under
King Emerien, it was not looked down upon. Cornerbluff grew up in
the palace. With his mother attending my sister, and the way
servants tend to spread information like a disease, I am sure he
heard the rumors of your mother’s pregnancy. He saw us together in
the marketplace and recognized me. Once he heard I was your uncle,
he put together the pieces and figured out who you were.”

“Even so, what did he have to gain from
stealing the locket?”

“Think about it. How much do you think the
queen would pay for knowledge of another potential heir to the
throne? You are Veritan’s son and are a good eighty years older
than the queen. You also have ties to Aleria, and whatever anyone
may have thought of Veritan or how much pride they may have to be
citizens of Suriax, almost everyone old enough to remember Aleria
has fond memories of my sister. She was a beloved princess during
King Emerien’s life and a beloved queen during Veritan’s rule.
Should you wish to challenge your half sister, the crown could be
yours.”

Kern’s head reeled. He was a Flame Guard, an
assassin for the queen. Now he was told that he could be king. The
choice was his. Though to be king would mean civil war, death,
misery and who knew what else. The queen would not go quietly. And
his uncle was right. She did not get where she was by letting
threats to her leadership go unchecked. She killed her own parents
and took over the rule of the kingdom when she was only fifty years
old, a mere child for someone three quarters elf. You weren’t even
considered an adult until around a hundred years old. To maintain
rule at such a young age was incredible. She was strong, determined
and a born leader.

“What you’re telling me is that my father’s
policies and cruelty led to my mother’s death, my brothers and
sister deposed our father, and my half sister killed him. That’s
some family we’ve got there.”

Frex nodded in understanding. “I know it’s a
lot to take in. I didn’t mean to hit you with everything like this.
I should have told you as soon as the locket was stolen. I wasn’t
thinking clearly. It brought back so many memories, of your mother,
her death,” his voice caught. “Losing her locket was like losing
her all over again. But there is no time for that, now. You must
determine who, if anyone, knows of you and make plans to protect
yourself should the queen learn of your existence.”

Kern stood and stared out the window for
several minutes. “You must leave the city,” he said at last. “If I
am at danger, then so are you, so is anyone who knows the truth.
The queen would consider you as much a threat as me, and she would
not hesitate to have you killed to protect her throne.”

“This is true, but where could I go? This is
my home, and I am an old man.”

“I’ll think of something. For now, get some
rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He kissed his uncle on the
top of his head and left.

* * *

“Five gold on the scrawny one.”

“Fifteen silver on the big guy for drawing
first blood.”

“One gold someone breaks an arm.”

Zanden pushed his way through the crowd of
people yelling out bets for the two men about to fight. The room
was large, but it looked small with so many people piled into it.
The only open space was around the two fighters. This was one of
the many small fighting halls that surrounded the coliseum.
Suriaxians loved to fight. They also loved to gamble. That made pit
fighting a very popular activity. Some fighters made a profession
out of it, fighting in tournaments for prizes and prestige. Others
only fought occasionally to make some quick coin, vent frustration
and work off stress, or even just for fun. Most of those in
attendance were locals, but there was a fair share of tourists
today. They were here for Solstice and for the tournament.

The Tournament of Fire came around once a
decade, the final event of Summer Solstice. Other years, they held
smaller tournaments and fights. Those off year matches were usually
just for locals, but this year’s tournament would draw competitors
from all over the continent. Only the best fighters would
participate. Lasting for three months, the weaker contenders were
generally weeded out in the first month or so. Casualties occurred
but weren’t overly common, maybe one or two a week. Once a fighter
gave up or was knocked unconscious he or she would lose the round.
Killing your opponent was not necessary to win. The winner of the
Tournament of Fire received thirty thousand gold pieces, a medal
crafted by the finest dwarven craftsmen, encrusted with many gems,
and all the respect and admiration one could ever ask for. Some
even received appointments into the military based on their
performance and skill. Many of the best Suriaxian generals were
once Tournament of Fire contestants and winners. There were few
other honors quite as high in Suriaxian society.

With so much at stake, there were more than a
few people with something to prove and a penchant for violence.
There would be more pit fights and proelignisium this week than in
a whole month. A proelignis was, simply put, a fire battle. There
were at least three fire battles taking place in this very room,
now. The tourists didn’t even notice. A proelignis was not as
flashy or loud as a pit fight, at least not when done right. It
could actually refer to a variety of things, including standing
over hot coals or placing a body part over an open flame. The
winner was the one who could withstand the pain the longest. It was
how Suriaxians often settled disputes or determined the recipient
of rewards. As such, most adult Suriaxians had at least a few scars
and learned to never show any hint of pain unless they lost a limb
or received a mortal wound. Anything else would heal.