THE ROAD LEADING north was a familiar one for both of them. Finding shelter in inns along the way wasn’t an easy quest, and perhaps more so than ever necessary, as it‘d been raining heavily and continuously over the past weeks. They followed the once thin stream that now was wider than any of them recalled, and it wasn’t until it met the river, the one Isaiah had been told to stay away from his whole life, they were finally faced with a proper challenge. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to cross, but the bridge was no longer there, and the river both wider and more wild than Devus had ever seen it. Their horses battled their way across the angry streams, and when they finally arrived at the Dabárian fortress (some miles up the hills), all four of them were soaking wet and exhausted.
Devus’ home was framed by walls like so many other places were, but the gates were open, and as soon as they were spotted by the guards, they were escorted into a warm room and given dry, woolen garments and heavy blankets.
“Thank you for bringing me with you.” Isaiah said, sensing this fortress (far smaller than the Huxley’s, non-decorative and simple) was every bit a proper home.
“Don’t thank me yet. You still need to meet with the council.” A slow heartbeat later, the door opened, and both of them turned from the soft chairs they’d crawled up in.
“I was just given word of your return.” A man (perhaps in his mid-fifties) with a thick beard with touches of silver, walked in. He was fair skinned, had wide shoulders, and the same boyish smile as his son.
“The situation in Nagár was outrageous, father. I had to…” Devus said, standing up to face him.
“I’m not upset with you. And it's no wonder there’s chaos. Rumor has it the king has gone missing.”
“What?” The man was about to speak again, but then he noticed the other boy. He opened his mouth, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. “He must have known my father,” Isaiah thought, and knowing the harrowing sensation of seeing unreal things all too well himself, he arose to introduce himself.
“Isaiah Aronin, my Lord.” He said and bowed. Devus had only just explained to him that his father was in charge of the Dabárian fortress. A detail he’d seemed weary about sharing.
“You’re Theodore’s grandson…”
“Yes.” There was a pause of a longer sort – a sort the commander of the Dabárian fortress rarely found himself in.
“I’m Nicholas Teague. I used to know Theodore well. And I knew your father.”
“I used to know him well too.” Isaiah thought, and he could have sworn he’d heard the man’s name before. He repeated it in his head a few times, but nothing came to mind.
“Pleased to meet you, my Lord, and thank you for having me as your guest.”
“The pleasure is all ours. And we’ve actually met once before.” Isaiah searched his memory as to where he’d seen him – the square chin and the dark, blue eyes – but his memory seemed to fail him.
“I’m sorry…”
“Oh, I don’t expect you to remember me. You were very young. How is Theodore?”
“He… he is getting well.” Isaiah uttered and then cleansed his throat.
“In fact, father, I partly came to tell you the most outrageous story. Isaiah just came back from the Parda. He went there to find his grandfather before returning to me in Nagár – alive and without a scratch on him.” Devus’ eyes eyed Nicholas’ as if trying to transmit some secret code fairly indiscreetly. He’d already asked Isaiah about a million questions on the way, which he’d mostly responded to as honestly as he could remember. “Alive,” Isaiah thought, and from the expression on Nicholas’ face, it seemed what he’d accomplished (which he personally felt was nothing at all), both Teague men considered rather miraculous. At least it seemed his journey had been an impressive failure.
“Are you certain it was the Parda?” Nicholas asked.
“I am, Lord Teague.” Isaiah said, and from his eyes – from the way the boy carried himself – he knew it was true.
“You must be tired.” He concluded, then he turned towards his son. “We are having a council meeting as soon as Liv is back from town – she’s looking for Philomena...”
“I’ll be present.” Devus was quick to say.
“I’d appreciate it if both of you came. I promise you will get some rest afterwards.” Isaiah nodded, as Nicholas scratched his chin. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then stopped himself and turned to leave. It was then, when seeing his back Isaiah remembered – honest eyes, a large head and a grin that would be a king worthy. Even his shoulders, still wide for a man his age.
“My grandfather wanted to tell you he was sorry. He didn’t say what exactly…” At this, Nicholas stopped and turned his head towards him.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” For a moment Isaiah thought he would say something more, but he didn’t.
“I’ll tell him… when I go back for him.” Nicholas made a short nod before leaving them and just as surely, Devus stepped closer to the fire. Grinning.
“I knew he would like you.”
“Your father seems like a good man.” Isaiah said, the brief acquaintance having been enough for him to understand, that Nicholas Teague was about as different from the other nobles he’d come to know, as soil was from sand.
“That’s what they all say. Many people here actually call him the King of Dabár.”
“Really?” Devus nodded.
“He hates it.”
“The king does?”
“My father does.”
*
Except for the two young men (still dressed in thick, unflattering garments to regain some body heat) and the Dabárian king himself, there were seven people present in the council room. All of them standing straight and calm along a table – about the size of the dining table in the ballroom, Isaiah thought, though lacking its polished surface and beautifully sculpted legs. He was somewhat surprised to see three of the council members were women and wore thick, ketill pants – similar to those of the men. Everyone stared as they walked in. A tall, dark-haired woman, standing on Nicholas’s right side at the table’s end, rushed towards them as soon as they entered.
“Welcome home.” She said, embracing Devus with what resembled motherly affection.
“Thank you, Aunt Liv, I’ve missed you.” she squeezed his tanned hand in between her pale ones and gave Isaiah a short nod of acknowledgement before moving back to her placement. As she walked past him, Isaiah felt her measure him so discreetly, nobody seemed to notice it at all. It was a doubtful, suspicious stare that might have startled him in the past, but the discord seemed to crumble down as soon as it’d come.
“We are all happy to see you’ve returned, Young Sir.” The man on Nicholas’s left said. His long face appeared less than half as serious as the rest, and was framed with gray, shoulder-long curls. Everyone conceded with nods and polite smiles.
“You may all be seated.” Nicholas said, and Isaiah found himself sitting next to the only empty seat around the table.
“You’ve been lucky again, my friend – that’s where Philomena was supposed to sit, but it seems my aunt failed to find her.” Devus half-whispered.
“Who is…” He didn’t get to finish the question, as Nicholas’ wholesome voice silenced everyone’s murmuring.
“As I’m sure you can see, other than himself, my son has brought home something truly extraordinary. This is Isaiah Aronin – Ares’s son.” Their eyes changed from what had mostly been a tame and courteous curiosity, to astonishment.
“Now,” Nicholas resumed. “I will not have anyone thinking, he is Ares. Despite the obvious similarity in appearance – for those of you who met him – my short encounter with Isaiah tells me otherwise.” Isaiah gave him a thankful smile. “He just returned from the Parda…” Nicholas stated and hearing this they all started turning their heads and seats, muttering across the table indiscreetly.
“I am still speaking.” Nicholas scolded, revealing that his voice could silence a room in a split second if he wished. “Adding to this… miracle, I was given notice this morning from one of our insiders – it seems young King Satta has gone missing.”
“You didn’t tell me this!” The dark-haired woman hissed.
“I am telling you and everyone else now, Liv. You’ve been gone all day.”
“How long has he been missing for?” Another of the women asked almost tenderly. She was nearly unnoticeable in her appearance, short and bulky with brown, frizzy hair, barely reaching to her shoulders. Her oval face had round cheeks that seemed permanently flushed and a flat nose that gave her a peculiar profile.
“It’s hard to say. According to the letter – a week long if I am to guess – it hasn’t been made public in Nagár yet. My take on this is that our time has finally come.” The announcement left the room in utter silence. These were words they’d been waiting and preparing to hear for years – decades even. Yet, they all looked as stunned as if lighting had just entered through one of the gray-shaded windows.
“There seems to be one issue, father, the crossing bridge is ruined. We just barely made it over.”
“Under normal circumstances, waiting for the weather to pass would be the preferable solution – but it has been weeks… moons of storms now. So, I ask all of you, how will we get there in time before we lose this window of opportunity?” Nicholas’ expecting gaze circled the table till meeting with Isaiah’s.
“First, I should apologize to our dear guest.” He said, reaching out a hand in his direction. “You seem to have stumbled upon us at quite a rare time, Isaiah.” Devus had already explained to him that other than training their youth to go to the Parda, the Dabárian council had been planning a revolt in Nagár for a great many years. That the actual execution of it would happen the moment he arrived, hadn’t crossed his mind. Then again, perhaps it should have. As the voice had told him, there was much more waiting to be saved by him elsewhere. Remembering this, it occurred to him that perhaps that was exactly what they needed to do. Float.
“Forgive me, Lord Teague, but in theory you could drift down south. On the stream leading south from the Del… the Dabárian river. By now it is so flooded that it might bring you there faster than horses could.” They all turned towards him. He thought they’d find the suggestion ridiculous (it did seem like an idea made by a child), but their raised eyebrows seemed to either imply puzzlement or fear.
“We have no boats or fleets. Besides, our people have no experience operating on water – most don’t even know how to swim.” a red-haired man, more so large than muscular, grunted.
“I seem to have read something about this...” Devus said. “Not a lot, as the art of fleet-building didn’t seem very relevant to me at the time. I know we have good trees for it in the region, and I have a clear image in my memory on how to tie them together. It might actually work!”
“And what about the horses? We’ll need the horses later on…” The same man argued, clearly unsettled.
“We’ll go as long as the river will carry us, and then walk the rest by foot. Or the Zuras might provide us some if you’re too lazy for that, Harvey.” The cheerful man on Nicholas’s left suggested.
“I will not ride a damn Zura horse, Emory. Those beasts are vicious unless they’ve “chosen you”, whatever that might mean. Besides, the Zuras might be good couriers, but demanding anything from them is like telling a crow to say “kra” – which might happen and might not, and yet they might hatch your eyes out instead.” He spit, and then the whole council broke into loud discussion.
“Silent down.” Nicholas commanded at last, having passed a long minute in pensive silence. “It is a very good idea. Very innovative.” He nodded in Isaiah’s direction, and he felt himself smiling ever so shyly as Liv made a loud sigh.
“If such an outrageous plan was to even be considered, it would take weeks of planning. First of all, we would need to find a way to take over the Huxley fortress and get our people out.”
“Liv…”
“I am not making a request Nic – we will need their help. Regardless if it is time to go to Nagár or not – it is time to get them out of that place!”
“Entering that fortress would risk everything we’ve worked for. Don’t be so sentimental, woman.” A tall, stern-faced man, clearly the oldest of them, said.
“Oh, don’t you talk to me about risks!” Liv barked, “I want my children safe.”
As the discussion went on, all Isaiah could think about was the Huxley fortress. That he now might need to go back right where he’d started. He didn’t know how many days it’d been since he left, only that it’d been a great many, and he wondered how the patrons would greet him if he returned without Tzelem.
“It seems our best chances would be to build these fleets as fast as can be done. Then, Ideally, we should be ready to leave in four days’ time. The Agátis might be willing to assist us with this. Half of the council will go. The rest will stay here and start preparing everyone for the last part of their training.”
“Are you mad? We can’t leave in four days – this needs to be further discussed.” Liv scolded.
“Ideally, it should. But this is too unique of an opportunity – we can’t waste it this time.” His eyes were harder than before, but still patient.
“I stand by my vote – we at least need to wait till the rain has passed and should rather focus on getting our allies home.” Liv searched for words of agreement around her, and the last of the women, pretty with long, beautiful honey blonde braids, raised her hand.
“Liv is right. Although you are well-trained for a great many deeds, gentlemen, water is not among them. And we couldn’t have you all drown, could we?” Her voice was deep and seemed to have an easing effect on everyone but the woman she’d defended. Liv gave a forced nod of acknowledgment in her direction, her tone restrained as she said, “Thank you, Josephine.”
“Though we do not wish to bring concern upon you, we must go. It is time.” Nicholas said.
“Do not speak to us like you’re some king, Nicholas. You’re not – none of you are.” Liv’s moss-green eyes penetrated all of them.
“Does anyone else oppose leaving in four days' time?” Nicholas asked calmly. Though the air seemed filled with tension, there were no further objections.
“Very well then. The women and dear Sir Derrick stay here – we all know you are better rulers than us half-muscular fools anyways.” He smiled in an attempt to ease the mood, and then turned towards his right hand.
“I will leave you in charge, Liv. If you’re lucky – I’m wrong about this, and I just might drown in the river. Then, you’ll be in charge permanently.”
“Don’t joke about such things...” Liv said, and they glared at each other for what seemed a little too long, before realizing they wouldn’t leave the room in the harmony they usually aimed for.
“We will discuss the details tomorrow. Get some sleep. You’re all dismissed.” Nicholas said, and once everyone had made their way out the door, he grabbed Isaiah by the shoulder.
“Welcome to Dabár, Isaiah. We are usually a little more civilized than this – though I admit, not a whole lot. I always aim to let my people speak freely with me, and I wish that you do the same.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Please, just call me Nic – I’m no Lord and no Patron. This noble nonsense is just for show.” He smiled and Isaiah nodded.
“I understand you’ve been on a long journey, and that you might like to stay behind and rest. Usually, I would have recommended you to, but the times we are living in are strange ones. I don’t know exactly how things will be changing – only that they will – and your assistance might help shift things in a preferable direction.”
“You should know I am nothing special, Lord Teague. I did go to the Parda but… it didn’t show me some ancient secret… it was just… just painful and…” Nicholas nodded.
“You need to say no more. Entering the Parda is different for every person, but it takes time to make sense of. You seemed to have come out of it extraordinarily well.”
“Right now I feel clear, but sometimes the memories of what happened there feel strange. They make me question myself… what is real and what is not.”
“Is there anything particularly troubling you?”
“No, it’s alright. I know it’s better if I don’t tell you too much.” Nic nodded to this. Though, besides himself with curiosity, the boy was right. If he heard too much, it would take a hold of him. Pull him there like a dog who’d broken his leash, and there was still work to do.
“You don’t need to tell me anything, Isaiah. Just the fact that you are here with my son tells me enough. Let me know if there is something you need to get off your chest.”
“Thank you.” Nicholas smiled in what Isaiah thought to be a proud, kingly way.
“As for now, we need to make a rapid and very real strategy. I know there are many talented healers in Delta, and we might be needing some assistance. Is there anyone you trust?”
“There is.” Isaiah realized. “Though, I’m not sure that she’d be willing to leave...”
“We’ll need to ask her.” Isaiah nodded to this. He’d thought about Tara on the way north, sensing there might be things she’d have answers to. The strange things his grandfather had told him – the voices he’d stopped hearing since arriving in Nagár the second time.
“She lives in a large house in Duroya, about five minutes from the city entrance, on the left side. It’s easy to spot, and her lights are on till late at night.”
“I’ll send my fastest couriers straight away, so that she might be here in time.” Isaiah smiled. He felt relaxed around Nic and realized he hadn’t worn his iron face since departing from his last master. A teacher he realized they shared.
“I must warn you about getting involved with women of this sort.”
“Oh, we’re not… I’m not involved.” Isaiah stuttered. “She’s a… she has helped me before.”
“Very well, then.” Nicholas said, seeming to have noticed something Isaiah wasn’t quite aware of himself.
“Emory will show you to your chambers. Get some rest.” Isaiah had hoped to share rooms with Devus, but Devus was not just some guard dog’s cook anymore. Here, he was a Patron’s son – the King of Dabár’s son – even if Nicholas didn’t like these titles. “How quick things change,” he thought as Emory approached him.
“It is truly an honor to meet you, Isaiah.” He shook his hand firmly, his eyes showing no signs of fatigue despite the late hour. Walking down the long hallway, there were no paintings on the walls. Only torches lighting up the way and a dark, purple carpet resting upon the gray-stoned floors.
“I believe this chamber is available.” He said as they reached the first door around the second corner. The room was mostly empty but had a large bed with huge, puffy pillows.
“Do tell me if you’re in need of anything. Nic’s guests are my guests, and nothing is more important than keeping them happy.”
“Alright. Thank you, Emory.”
“Also,” he said, as Isaiah was about to close the door behind him. “Nic says you’re not like Ares, but I, for one, don’t think you’re a lot like your grandfather either. That is not an insult or a compliment – just my humble observation.” Isaiah nodded silently to this, before he said goodnight and almost instantly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.