Divided (4 page)

With his voice, her green eyes widened and she found his
face.  “Kilik!” she hissed.  He started a little at her irritation.  Then, she
seemed to relax.  “A hero made the deal, and a hero will pay the price!” she said,
as if this made all the sense in the world.

When he glanced to Juliet, the woman just shook her head. 
“This is what she has been saying all mid-sun.  She isn’t well,” she said. 
There was not much Taeru could do, and after all, Juliet was the healer.  That
was why Merril’s family always brought the girl to Alyx’s mother.  She was
known as the best doctor in all of Dark District, and she was probably better
than most in Shining District.  However, Merril’s ailment was not physical, and
Juliet was no magician.

“Calm down, Merril,” he said.  He placed a very gentle hand
on her forehead, and her body trembled a little at the touch.  “It’s alright.”

“The battles must end, they said, the battles will tear
apart our world and so the battles must end!” she told him.  He flinched when
her hand snaked up and seized his wrist.  Her green eyes found his, determined
to hold his blue ones.  He tried not to get uncomfortable in these situations,
but there was just no getting used to Merril when she was like this.

Taeru let out a flustered breath.  “There is no battle!  You
must listen to me, Merril!  You are safe.  I promise!” he said.  He held her
eyes, since she seemed to want that sort of contact, and he didn’t bother
trying to free himself from her tightening grip.

“Not yet,” she said, whispering.  “But there will be.  There
will be, and the curse will return.  When the curse returns the hero will be
lost—and so will the nations.  Both will be torn asunder by their own doing! 
Because they do not understand peace!  The Magisters were right!  Telandus and
Cathalar cannot have peace!”

The words ran together so that he only understood a little
of what she said.  She seemed to be harping on the idea of a hero, and the Magisters,
who were the religious creators of Elyst—the land that held every other land. 
Statues of them were erected all throughout the Shining District, just as they
had been in Upper Town back in Cathalar.  Though, naturally, the two different
nations held different opinions of the Magisters.

Taeru listened as best as he could to the girl’s words,
since he’d found that interrupting her never seemed to help anything.  When she
finally seemed to calm down, he spoke.  “There is no war yet.  You must calm
down.”  Perhaps this was brought on by the girl’s own fear of the impending
war.  That was certainly a concept that Taeru understood well. 

“There will be nothing left!  The moment the first blood is
drawn!  There will never be peace again!  The hero’s curse will destroy him,
and then it will destroy us all!” she shrieked. 

Really, this got incredibly tiresome, and Taeru was normally
better at finding ways to calm Merril down.  However, on this sun, she seemed
in rare form.  “Merril!  We will do our best to ensure that peace remains! 
Stop this before you hurt yourself!” he said firmly. 

Though for a moment she continued to stare at him in terror,
gradually, her eyes calmed, and she was staring at him with her simple,
complacent green eyes.  “Kilik?” she asked.  She never remembered any of her
ranting, which made it even more impossible to get angry with her.  Better yet,
to figure out what was wrong with her. 

“Merril,” he said, just relieved that she was back to
normal, “you were having another fit.  Are you alright?”

She nodded simply, and then she offered him an apologetic
look.  “I’m very sorry.  I wish I knew what was causing them.  What did I say?”
she asked.  At first, Merril had been certain that everyone was making up her
fits—but slowly she had come to accept and work towards stopping them.

“You were talking about the war, Merril,” Juliet offered. 
She seemed more relieved than Taeru that the girl had returned to her normal
self.  Taeru couldn’t have imagined dealing with fits like these all sun-up. 
Juliet agreed to do things like this for the citizens of Dark District though,
and that was why he admired her so. 

Merril didn’t seem to understand why she would be speaking
of this.  “Oh, well, I don’t really know much about that.  So, I apologize.  I
still have no idea why this keeps happening to me.”

Taeru just offered her a kind smile and put a gentle hand on
her shoulder.  There was no sense holding her responsible for something that
she clearly could not help.  Enough of the townsfolk ignored her, anyway—he
didn’t want to count himself among them.  “It’s alright.  Do you feel well
enough?”

She nodded, and then she offered him one of her sweet smiles
that meant she was going to display that affection that he’d earned so long
ago.  “I feel fine, Kilik, thank you.”  When she stood, she bobbed a quick
curtsy. 

Unable to do anything but smile, he did so and offered a
quick nod of his head.  He should have been accustomed to people curtsying to
him from his years living in his father’s castle, but the entire idea of
someone bowing to him here was odd.  “I’m glad,” he said simply. 

“Will you be attending the dance?” she asked sweetly.  For
once, Taeru was glad that Alyx had already asked him to take her.  Otherwise,
he would have been placed into the very awkward position of not asking
Merril—or worse—declining her invitation.  Going with Alyx was a simple matter,
as neither of them had ever possessed feelings for one another—but going with
Merril would imply things that need not be implied.  Taeru had sworn off the
entire concept of romance when he’d arrived in Telandus—before, really.

The last thing he needed was to be wrapped up in some
romance that was based solely off lies.  Though a few women had attempted to
kindle a romance with him, most of the girls in Dark District were too busy
tending to their own lives to fling themselves at men like the noblewomen
tended to do.  That was why he liked them so much more.  “I will be,” he
answered her briefly.

“Are you taking Alyx?” she asked woefully.

A sympathetic smile made its way onto his pale lips, and he
offered a consoling nod.  “Yes, Merril.  Apologies.”  The girl needn’t know
that he would have refused to go with her had Alyx not already asked him.  That
would just put unneeded hurt on her heart.

Taeru didn’t know much of heartache, though.  So perhaps
Merril would have handled the rejection well—but he never had been able to be
curt with people, even for their own good.  He didn’t have the heart to reject
Merril.  After what she had been through with Tareth, Taeru didn’t think she
deserved any more pain—however slight.  “Oh, it’s alright.  At least I’ll see
you there.”  She glanced to Juliet and curtsied again.  “Thank you so much for
all your help, Lady Amaral.  I know I must have been a handful.  My parents
will surely be wondering where I am, so I’ll get out of your way.”  Her voice
was so sweet and kind that Taeru would swear she wasn’t the same person as the
girl that had just screeched end of the world prophecies.

Once she left, Taeru glanced back towards Juliet.  Juliet
was still young, but she tired more easily than she once had.  Even in the
years that Taeru had been here, he had seen her age as she tried desperately to
help the hopeless in Dark District.  “Are you alright, my lady?” he asked
worriedly.

Juliet just nodded, though, and then offered him a smile. 
“Oh, I’m fine, Kilik.  I’m just glad that you arrived when you did.  I had
tried every trick I knew to calm her down—but you just seem to have a way with
that girl that I will never understand.”

“Probably something to do with all those heroics he pulled,”
Alyx said as she entered the house with a soft smile.

Merril was one of the few others who knew who the Phantom
Blade really was.  Taeru actually suspected the black-haired girl of starting
that nickname to begin with.  That was precisely the sort of thing she would
say.  Then again, half of Dark District would have started that, given the
opportunity.  “Merril wanted very much to go to the dance with Kilik,” Juliet
said, and some of the exhaustion seemed to be leaving her features.

Alyx giggled.  “Oh, poor Kilik!  I don’t understand why you
don’t just give in and have a go with the girl.  She clearly cares deeply for
you, and it’s been nearly two years since what happened.  I’m sure she isn’t
just in love with you for your dashing mystery or heroics.  She obviously likes
Kilik, and not the Phantom Blade.”

Sometimes, the amount of identities that he possessed made
Taeru dizzy.  Sure, maybe Alyx and Merril did care about Kilik—but neither of
them knew who he really was.  No one here did, and if anyone of them found
out—he was sure they would have reported him to the guards.  They would have
been right to.  “I told you my policy on romance,” Taeru answered smoothly.

“Don’t have time, yes, yes, I know.”  With a wave of her
hand, Alyx demonstrated her disapproval over this opinion.  “Was Merril
alright?” she asked.

“Yes, just another fit,” Juliet answered and then headed
back down the hallway, probably to start dinner.  She didn’t say as much,
mostly because it would have been redundant to tell them at this point.

Once Juliet had disappeared, Alyx put her hands on her hips
and gave Taeru a very stern glare.  “From what I hear, you nearly got yourself
captured,” she chided.  He pursed his lips and stared at the wall.  He hadn’t
wanted to have this conversation.  “What were you thinking?”

“The same thing I always am,” he answered without
hesitation.  To leave the girl to the mercy of Tareth, or any noble, would have
been against every policy that he’d ever made.  He had left Cathalar so that he
could help people unable to help themselves—and that was what he would do. 

Alyx was unimpressed with his resolve, though.  “My sources
tell me that you nearly got cornered.  Do you know what Tareth would do to you
if he ever caught you?  I don’t even… by the Light, Kilik I do not want to
think about it.  I cannot.”

Taeru was far more concerned with the retribution he might
bring down on Alyx and her family.  Nevertheless, that was a risk he would have
to take.  Surely, the nobles would be too preoccupied with his own punishment
to cause too much pain to this family, and they could always feign ignorance,
which he had told them to do on multiple occasions.  “I’m alright, aren’t I?”
he said, thrusting his arms outwards as if to reveal himself more fully.

“Barely,” she said.  “Were you hurt?”

Though his back was still aching, he just shook his head. 
“Not at all.  Your sources always make things bigger than they are,” he said
disapprovingly.  Anyone who had seen him flung back against that wall—or better
yet, heard him flung against it—would surely have mentioned the injury being
terrible. 

“No,” Alyx disagreed, “you just make things much smaller
than they should be!”

Taeru offered a wry smile.  Aela had told him that on more
than one occasion back in Cathalar, and hearing similar words from Alyx was
always something of a comfort.  “I’m trying to be careful,” Taeru reassured.

Alyx’s hazel eyes looked truly worried—troubled—for a single
moment and then they were replaced by the usual carefree happiness that typically
resided within them.  “Yes, well, you ought to try harder so that my poor heart
doesn’t explode.”

There wasn’t much else to say between the two of them, and
Taeru now desperately wanted to see the damage to his back.  But he wouldn’t do
that until he had plenty of privacy.  “I’m going to go wash up,” he said
immediately.  That was usually the excuse he used.

“Before you go,” Alyx said.  He cringed, even though her
voice didn’t sound as though there was any further interrogation.  His back
pain had returned in full force since his interactions with Merril.  “My
sources also said that they saw Calis Tsrali.  Was he there?” she asked, like
the gossiping young girl that she was.

He wasn’t sure what to say to this.  He couldn’t very well
deny Calis’s involvement, but he very much didn’t want to mention the other
Tsrali for some reason.  Eventually, he resigned himself to mentioning him,
anyway.  “I believe he was.”

“Oh!”  Alyx exclaimed.  He was certain he knew why he didn’t
want to bring the older Tsrali up.  From what he’d heard on the street, Dark
District women seemed to fancy Calis quite a lot.  “Was he still handsome?  Did
he help you?”

Calis had helped him, but Taeru was certain that the help
had been unintentional.  Surely, the older brother would make up for the
mistake in the coming suns by making Taeru’s life difficult.  “Not
intentionally,” he said flatly. 

“So was he handsome?”

“I didn’t look,” Taeru answered without pausing to think
about the question.

Alyx giggled and did a little twirl that she rarely
demonstrated.  Calis Tsrali was quickly becoming someone about whom Taeru found
himself very curious.  No man had ever inspired this sort of reaction in Alyx
before.  “Oh, I’m sure he was!  I can’t believe he’s truly back!”

Taeru didn’t dignify her silliness with a response and
instead headed back towards the back of the house where he could wash up.  He
didn’t have time for mindless girls chattering on about some noble prince—he’d
gotten more than enough of that back in Cathalar. 

“As the wars grew with each sun, the Magisters lost
faith in the land and her kingdoms determining that destruction was the only
means of salvation.”

-A Hero’s Peace, v.i

Calis pulled his cloak off his shoulders—the cloak that had
been the only reason all of Dark District hadn’t been ogling him.  Tareth was
going on about something or other, but Calis wasn’t exactly in the mood to
listen.  His mind was turning with curious thoughts about the masked vigilante
whose life he had just saved. 

Surely, Dark District had always offered more excitement
than the Shining District, but nothing ever so fantastical before.  From
Tareth’s ramblings, Calis was certain that this masked boy had made more than a
few appearances—and not just to Tareth either.  Nevertheless, his younger
brother had not wanted to dwell on that issue for too long, as that would have
once again, shed light on just how much of a failure he was.  “Father has
spoken of nothing but your return since last full moon,” Tareth said, though
Calis detected a note of animosity.

“I’m sure he’s just curious about the treaty with Dokak,”
Calis soothed.  “You know father is never one to get too preoccupied with any
one individual, unless, be it that individual is himself.”  When Tareth turned
to look at his brother, the stockier boy actually smiled.  Calis returned it. 
Tareth had started to resent Calis just before he’d left for Dokak—and Calis
had begun workarounds so that the two of them could remain on friendly terms. 
He certainly didn’t want to combat his brother more often than necessary. 

Tareth was probably none too happy about Calis’s
interference with his
Phantom Blade
, though.  “True enough, brother.  He
has mentioned Dokak, but I think he is more curious as to whether you found a
suitable wife there.  That appears to have been his plan all along, and with
your overwhelming charm, he was sure that you would find one.”  Ah, back to the
wife subject.  Calis had been sixteen when he’d left for Dokak, which meant
that talk of a wife had already begun.

His father had mentioned the prospect of finding a young
lady in Dokak, and Calis had assured the man that he would search—but none of
the women in Dokak were particularly suited to Calis’s interests.  In fact, all
of Dokak had been as bland as the city of Telandus itself.  Not to say that the
women weren’t beautiful, and he could say—without vanity—that any of them would
have leapt at the chance to be his bride, but he just wasn’t interested.  “I
fear he is going to be disappointed, then,” Calis answered his brother
woefully.

They were walking down the red-carpeted corridors of the
expansive Tsrali castle.  On the outside, the castle was a massive
structure—seen even from the lowest reaches of Dark District, and it was made
of the darkest kind of stone so that its presence forced itself into any
viewer’s mind wholeheartedly.  Paranoid as his father was, the castle was
surrounded by a small moat of water, so that people could only enter when his
father deemed it necessary to lower the drawbridge.

The windows visible from the front of the castle were barred
with elaborate black hinges, each with unique designs.  The top of the castle
was made of a black thatch material that had supported Calis’s many excursions
to the roof before he’d left for Dokak.  Then, there were the massive double
doors at the front entrance—made of obnoxious gray marble. 

As a whole, the inside was just as intimidating, and Calis
was convinced this was Lavus’s way of reminding his sons that there would be no
new ruler of Telandus until he deemed it so.  The corridors were lit with
flames held apart from the marble walls by stone lanterns.  The fires flickered
across the hallways, casting shadows in the dark that scared even the bravest
little boy.

In addition to the unnecessary lighting, there were busts of
men and Magisters, and statues of frightening lions dotting each of the
castle’s many hallways.  The red carpet remained a theme, though the silver marble
for the outside door was replaced by wooden doors on the inside.  Finally, the
two brothers reached the end of the hallway that let out into the grand hall. 
The grand hall was by far Calis’s least favorite room in the castle—well,
second least favorite.  While his father had free reign over the entirety of
his castle—this one was by far the worst. 

Fortunately, Lavus had given his son’s the rights to their
own rooms, and most of the guest rooms were maintained by Calis’s mother,
Claudia. 

However, this particular room was Lavus’s—the only room more
so was the dreaded throne room itself.  The floor of the grand hall was covered
in the plush, crimson carpet, and statues of Lavus’s ancestors stood guard, two
in front of each of the entrances to the winding staircase.  The stairs were
made of stone but were covered with the blood-colored carpet entirely.  They
led upwards to another hallway, which looked the same as the one Tareth and Calis
had just walked through, only this hallway had no doors to break up the
unnecessary decorations.

Busts were aligned along the whole of the upper hallway, in
chronological order of each of the Tsrali heads of the house.  None of them
looked very attractive in stone, bust form, though Calis wasn’t sure anyone
would.  Then, behind each of the busts was a painted portrait of the same
men—and though Calis’s ancestors didn’t look quite as grotesque in those
pictures, the artist’s intent was obviously to frighten others, not to flatter
the men.

The banister was coated in gold and wound about itself like
barbed wire.  Calis had never cared for walking along that hallway, though it
was necessary to access the rooms on both sides of the castle.  The gray,
marble, entrance doors sat facing the front of the hall.  The rest of the grand
hall was a large waste of space.  There were more decorations, but nothing
else.  This room was used for nothing other than introducing people to the
domain, and Lavus wanted to ensure that meant scaring people.

Calis hated his father’s tastes more than anything.  As they
had passed through the grand hall and into the next corridor, Tareth had let
the conversation die.  Neither of the boys appeared to have much to say to one
another, though they rarely did. 

At last, they stood at the doors to the throne room.  The
door was black, tinged with silver woven across the front of it.  The handle
was an intricate design of swirls and glistened in the flame that flickered
above the door.  Tareth, without pause, opened the door and entered. 

This room was a smaller replica of the grand hall, without
the upper hall or stairwell, and with the addition of one incredibly obnoxious
throne.  The room was large, with pillars moving up to the ceiling, along the
same crimson carpet.  However, there was only a strip of carpet and the rest of
the floor was made of stone.  The carpet trailed from the start of the room all
the way to the center, where a raised platform held the throne—and Calis’s
pompous father.

Most men would have thought to include a smaller throne so
that his children or queen could be with him, but not Lavus.  Lavus said he and
he alone ruled the kingdom, his children and wife were a threat to his control
in such matters.  It was disgusting.  The pillars that led to the platform in
the center of the room were of the same stone as the floor, though they were
painted the same red as the carpet.  The platform was raised by two steps, of
course, to demonstrate to anyone who entered that Lavus was the superior here.

The throne itself was black, twisted into a frightening
design.  The seat held a crimson cushion, which looked comfortable enough, but
the rest of the chair was like watching the monster of a chair attempt to eat
the man who sat in it.  The black was twisted, like the claws of a colossal,
sickly looking.  The chair was tall, though certainly not reaching the domed
roof of the room.

The man who sat on it was not anyone Calis wanted to look at
while having such negative thoughts, so he averted his eyes to the side of the
too-wide room.  The walls were decorated with those same flame-lanterns, and
there were paintings of landscapes and other art that Calis didn’t understand. 
“My son.  Why am I not surprised that you are back before the time you said you
would be?”

Tareth and Calis took that moment to bow as graciously as
either of them knew how to, after all, Lavus was the only one to whom they had
ever bowed.  “Possibly because I have never kept to schedules,” Calis answered
easily.

Finally, his eyes found Lavus—now that he’d washed the
condescending disgust from his mind.  Lavus had graying hair, with a thick
beard that was neatly trimmed so that it fit his face exactly.  His eyes were
the same blue-green that Calis’s were, but his thick stature was nothing like
Calis’s.  The man was tall, like his eldest son, but he looked much more like
Tareth as far as his body was concerned.  He currently wore deep, red robes
with a cape that flowed behind him as he stood, and his black armor served as
an overlay.  He even had a red belt with an elaborate sheath and sword attached
to it.  “No, you have not,” Lavus answered.  “Though, I wish you wouldn’t
insist of making rounds to Dark District.  People do talk, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Calis said.  “However, as I was certain you had
planned some sort of celebration for my return—I didn’t wish to be seen by any
of the nobles that would be present, so as to spoil the festivities.”  His
words came without thought.  He had become so accustomed to making up lies for
his father’s benefit that he didn’t have to think about them anymore.  “And I
was curious if Tareth was still up to his old tricks.”

“Tareth never does anything but tricks,” Lavus said
ruthlessly.  His eyes found his younger son then, and Tareth let out the
slightest of hisses.  Lavus would never have heard.

As Lavus had stood, the guards that were at the base of his
throne seemed uneasy.  No man was ever fully at ease in Lavus’s presence, and
that was precisely how the king wanted it.  Calis had worked to overcome that,
but even now, he felt strange and overshadowed with his father standing before
him.  “Ah, apologies, father,” Tareth managed a few moments later—accompanied
by another light bow.

Lavus ignored him utterly, looking to Calis instead.  “You,
my son, are another matter entirely.  From the word I’ve received, the treaty
is more than we could have hoped for—thanks to you.  I notice you didn’t return
with any wench at your side.  I must say I am surprised, though not
unpleasantly so.”

Of course not.  Lavus had never been interested in Calis
getting with some lesser girl from Dokak—he had only mentioned doing such a
thing if it helped solidify the treaty.  Calis had gotten their treaty without
the aid of marriage.  “I’m sure mother will not share your sentiment,” Calis
answered. 

Claudia was another matter entirely—as she was quite the
romantic, and very interested in her son enkindling some whirlwind romance with
a lady from a distant land.

“Certainly not,” Lavus agreed.  “I knew sending you there
was the right decision.  You are becoming quite the diplomat, though I hope
your time in Dokak has not softened your sword hand.”  Calis and his father
agreed upon that one matter.  Fighting would always be more important than
talking.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Father.  Dokak had plenty of men, all
of which feared that I would steal the woman of their dreams from them.  I
trained as much as I was able,” he answered.  The conversation felt so
rhythmic.  He’d had it a dozen times, on all different fronts.  Even with
Tareth standing beside him, feeling awkward and strange, since Lavus never
graced his youngest son with more than a few words, the conversation flowed. 

No, there was no designated order of rule.  Telandus had
long since done away with the preconceived notion that the elder son must rule
the kingdom.  However, the elder son did tend to have more responsibilities,
and Calis had handled those responsibilities with unending wit and efficiency,
which had gotten him much favor from everyone.  Therefore, Lavus had made it
very clear years ago that Calis was the boy that he wanted ruling after his
passing.  Tareth was nothing to Lavus, and Tareth, unfortunately, knew that. 

“And did you steal any of those women, my son?”  Lavus asked. 
There was a sadistic gleam in the king’s eyes that told more of his nature than
it should.  Calis had certainly laid with women in Dokak, none of which had
held any particular interest to him, and none of which had been otherwise
occupied by men.  Calis did not intend to tear apart lovers for the sake of his
own games.

However, to say that he was faultless in his dealings with
women would have been a lie.  He had slept with more than his fair share of
women and then dashed their hopes of marriage with merciless fervor.  To answer
his father, he simply smirked—not deeming any further explanation necessary.

His father’s response was a return of the same gesture. 
“Regardless,” Lavus started, “I intend to have the celebrations just as such
that you had arrived tomorrow.  You seem to be aware of that, in your avoidance
of individuals of note.  You should wash, and then meet with your mother and me
for dinner.  She will be delighted to know the rumors of your return were
true.”

Calis bowed again, offering the quickest of smiles. 
“Indeed.”

“Oh, and if you are unaware, a ball will be held in your
honor tomorrow’s eve—so perhaps you can begin searching for a wife of a lineage
that you will find more respectable than those in Dokak.”  Calis had to work to
mask his frown.  A ball—that was not anything he’d expected.  His father was
not one for balls, and the only reason he would have bent to Claudia’s will on
the issue would be that Lavus truly thought it was time for Calis to find a wife.

Only Calis wasn’t interested in finding some noble-born
wife.  He didn’t have time to deal with any of nobles.  As he’d found in Dokak,
and in Telandus, none of them were able to hold a suitable conversation.  He’d just
as soon marry a wall.  “A ball?” he asked, “You do me too much honor, father.” 
He worked as much sincerity into his voice as he could muster.