Rise of the Dead Prince (49 page)

Meier was pushed and shoved in a near straight line to the stair of the battlements, Trent and Dor remaining faithfully by his side. As they got to the top of the wall, Trent and Dor exchanged glances, looking momentarily
lost.

“We had best leave you now, Meier,” called Dor into his ear. Meier laughed and put an arm around each of their n
ecks.

“No chance,” he said. “We’re seeing this through together.” On they strolled across the cleared battlement to the high arch above the main gates. There was that favorite space of Meier’s under the arch that jutted out from the wall to make a sort of unintentional terrace. Meier made his way forward and took a deep breath. He raised his arms and waved to everyone below. The crowd went wild. He could be seen by thousands from where he stood, but there was no way they could have heard a normal voice. It was not a problem. Meier’s eyes flashed, and suddenly his voice rang out from various places above the crowd in a way that everyone could
hear.

“Brothers and sisters!” he said loudly. Everyone began to look up and around to find the source of the voice that sounded so near. “Please, do not be alarmed! I am using magic to speak to you. What I have to say, I want all to hear. It needs to be said, all of it,” he said happily. All voices calmed, the better to li
sten.

“The necromancer is no more! We have all been saved from the gruesome fate that was nearly the death of us all!” The crowd began to c
hant.

“Meier! Meier! Meier!”
He smiled and spoke a
gain.

“Please, my friends, do not call my name alone, above all others,” he said plainly. “I look upon a
nation
of heroes today. I see many who have played a role, many who have laid it all on the line for their neighbors and fellow Valahians. I could never have succeeded without
you.
Each of you here today has one thing in common, and it is that one thing that combines you in a fellowship that I hope will last your lifetimes and beyond.
You have survived!
True, we mourn the dead, but know this! They would be proud of each of you! I am reminded of a thing I learned from a voice you would not believe and in a place that you would think me mad were I to describe it. But it doesn’t matter. Truth is always truth, regardless of its source. It belongs to no one and everyone. But I digress, my friends! She told me just this, and she did so in a time when I most needed it. Would you like to hear what she told me?” A great cheer went up from the crowd. Meier waved his
arms.

“I’ll take that for a ‘yes,’” he joked. Murmurs of laughter rolled like a wave in all directions. “I have come to believe just this my, friends
…
Nothing lasts
…
but nothing is ever lost.
These words gave me comfort when I delved into the deepest dark with my friends you see here beside me. They saved my life! Without them, not one of us would be here! Let me hear your voices for the hunter, Dor!” The chant went
out.

“Dor! Dor! Dor!”
Meier raised him arm with Dor’s, looking into the man’s eyes as he did. Dor had found his tears again. Looking to Trent, Meier took the big man’s wrist and raised it in
turn.

“Let me hear your voices for Trent, the farmer!” Again the chants went
out.

“Trent! Trent! Trent!”
Meier let the men soak in their just re
ward.

“These men, these
heroes,
played their hand with the worst cards I have ever seen! They fought through swamp and gloom, even until death took them. Rather than go to their rest, they came back, not for themselves
…
not for glory
…
not for reward, but for
us!”
Meier raised the arms of his friends again, and again the chants went out for each man’s name. “They come from humble origins in the southern reaches of our land, friends, but they have proven themselves more princely than I could ever hope to be! So tell me
…
are any of you here today from the
s
outh?”

A round of whoops went out, followed by a resounding
“Yeeee-haaaa!”
from many voices together. Meier laughed and was joined by many ot
hers.

“Well, I swear, but if y’all ain’t the loudest folk here!” he joked, copying the accent with fair accuracy. Trent and Dor both grabbed him playfully from either side, Trent putting him in a headlock as the crowd went wild with another round of laughter. “
HA, HA
, I guess I deserve it! Here’s hopin’ no one took no offense!” he joked again, causing the men to shake their heads. The first time had been much better than the se
cond.

The southerners came out with a round of chorus that sounded like
“Naaaahhh!”
Meanwhile Ian, Allie, Crocus, the Karavunians, Quickspear, Behren, and all the skirmishers and soldiers watched on in awe. He was a marvel. The people had never been happier. Every face wore a shameless grin. Tears were in many
eyes.

“Now for something else! Can you all still hear me? I think my head came loose for a second there,” he said, twisting his neck this way and that. Another round of cheers to the affirmative followed. “Well then. Hear this! We have the Karavunian king, Lotho, and his brave entourage of twenty men here as our
guests
today! These men helped me, fought by my side, set aside our differences, and called me
friend,
even after I had wronged them. These men, and indeed all Karavunians, deserve our love and respect! Will you join me in bringing in a new age of love and friendship between our two great nations? Answer me not in voice alone, brothers and sisters, but in heart and mind as well!” A piercing cheer went out from every mouth in the crowd. Meier felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he felt deep inside the crowd. They were abandoning their prejudice like the dropping of a stone. Such was his power, and for the first time since he had gained his fame, he was truly grateful fo
r it.

“We have a hard road ahead, friends,” he went on. “You have heroes that you exalt above all others. They deserve your love
…
but let me proclaim this, and I beg you to listen. Love them as you now love me, but no
more
than you love the person beside you. We need to live as one people, now more than ever. Your heroes are all around you, and not only the ones that fought bravely. Protecting a child is heroic. Giving a bed and a meal is heroic. Tilling a field, mending a roof, sweating over an anvil, and anything else you do for others is heroic. Tell me, friends, do you
feel
what I mean?” Meier raised his arms again. The crowd went insane with cheers again. “Do something for another today, even if all you have to offer is a kind word. I said it before, but let me say it again. I look out on a
nation
of heroes today,” he said and then paused, looking behind
him.

A smile grew on his face as he saw the most beautiful thing he thought he’d never see again. He turned to face the throng again. “I must leave you now, friends, for I have pressing business,” he said, but hearing the sighs and groans from the crowd, he felt an irrepressible urge hit him. He looked at Dor and Trent with an impish grin. Meier took three steps back, letting them all think he was gone. The crowd murmured, still sad that the speech was over. Suddenly, Meier bounded straight up onto the arch, some twenty feet above the ter
race.

“Did you think I would leave without saying
goodbye?”
The crowd went wild again. Meier smiled down, trying to keep his balance on the apex. “Here’s a parting gift, friends
…
but wait, what’s that in the sky?” All eyes looked up but saw only a clear blue sky. Suddenly, a giant explosion of purple filled the air high above, followed by starbursts of red, blue, and green, and finally, gleaming gold. It was all visible, brighter that the light of day. The throng looked up in sheer amazement then cheered for Meier until their throats went hoarse. “Goodbye for now, my friends!” he said finally, hopping down to the battlement, slowing at the last second into a perfect lan
ding.

“Show off,” said Dor. Trent just shook his head. Meier looked at them and then down to where Ian stood. Meier coughed once and started to fidget a
bout.

“Listen, boys, I, uh, need to get something done,” he said nervously. They just laughed knowi
ngly.

“Go get her, brother,” said Trent with a firm pat on his back. The two men wandered off and started making new friends all around. Meier started off and wobbled his way down the stairs feeling a rising dread. What if
this
, what if
that,
and other such wild fantastical speculations flew through his head. He summoned his courage, but discovered that it was nowhere to be found. One foot in front of the other, that was the se
cret.

He finally came to where Allie stood beside Crocus. Remembering suddenly what he had promised Kuvali, he started to open his mouth to talk to Crocus but then thought better of it. The result was that he turned to face Allie with his mouth still open, looking like a complete idiot. She had a stern, expectant look on her face. Her eyebrows were ra
ised.

“Uh, hi there, Allie
…
How are you?” he said then cri
nged.

“Hello, Meier?” she said, craning her neck around as if to see what was wrong with
him.

This isn’t fair
, he thought.
She’s standing there cool as the morning. Plus, there’s all these people standing around
…
I think I’m going to throw up. No! Mustn’t do that! Think of
…
Oh, what to think of? Something good!
Meier cou
ghed.

“Allie, I
…
” But then he blinked and wobbled his head as though he had just been sla
pped.

“Yes?” she asked impatie
ntly.

This is not going well,
he thought but moved forward with great ef
fort.

“Well, I wanted to tell you something, and I thought that if
…
well, the thing is,” he babbled. Allie coughed the word
idiot
rather obviously then responded with an exaggerated clarity, the better to evince Meier’s stammering by compar
ison.

“You told them you had urgent business, Meier. Hadn’t you better get to it? Or am I keeping you?” she said with mock sincerity. Meier chuckled nervously and started to scratch his
head.

Say it, you
FOOL
!
he thought violently then continued his forward
plod.

“The thing is just that
…
,” he said weakly, but then something finally snapped, and at long last he found his voice. “
You
are my business, Allie.” There was a moment of silence. Allie put her hands on her
hips.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently. The surrounding parties were getting quite a lot of amusement out of Meier, most especially Quickspear. Their laughter was so hard to hold in that they were leaking tears and making goofy faces. Meier took a deep br
eath.

“You saved me, Allie. And I don’t just mean at the little town where you destroyed all those skeletons so quickly and deftly,” he said, realizing he was babbling again. He straightened and took another breath. “When I was in the darkest place there is, you saved me again. You brought me back from the edge, Allie. All I had to do was think of you
…
and then—” he said, but was cut
off.

“Shut up, Meier,” she said, and then in an uncommonly quick and violent motion, she grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him close. Her eyes scanned his. He smiled, slowly putting his arms around her. With her fingers interlaced at the back of his tingling neck, she pulled him down and kissed him passionately. Ian and the others couldn’t take it anymore. They started to cheer and app
laud.

“I think I love you, Allie,” he said when the kiss was over. She sco
ffed.

“Think?”
she asked, pulling away. Meier laughed nervously and pulled her
back.

“You’re right, of course. I don’t
think
…
I
know
I love you, Allie.” He gave
her
a kiss that time, even better than the last one. Again the onlookers che
ered.

“That’s better,” she said with a sigh. From that day forward, it was hard to get them much further apart than they were
then.

EPILOGUE
A Word from the Royal Jester

A
s I look back on this tome, I think of many things I might have missed, and while I didn’t especially
care
then, I find that a brief
…
well,
relatively
brief explanation of a few goings on to be in order. I might have done so right at the end of the story itself, but regardless of what other wizards and historians may believe, it’s always good to end a story with a
kiss.

First, I feel the need to mention myself. I once had a vision that I would live only long enough to see Meier fulfill his destiny. Well, I was evidently less than fully correct. I seem to be stubbornly in existence still, as evidenced by these notes. I have two theories. One, it’s that I didn’t heed the letter of the vision. It said (I
think,
for it was ever so long ago) that I would not
die
until Meier had saved the nation. It did not say that I would keel over immediately afterward, turning to dust as I have long suspected would be the case when that finally happened. The second is that Meier’s “destiny” is not done, and the nation is not entirely saved. A person’s destiny does not only refer to great deeds, and no nation is ever saved
completely.
There is much to be done still, regardless of the many months that have passed. But ever is the
case.

One interesting moment came when Meier arrived home. His first gesture to me was to try and give my powers back. I firmly refused despite his insistence and finally resolved the matter by offering to cast myself out the window. I explained that power is a burden for one as old as I; and though he didn’t understand (for how could he?), he finally relented in his unwelcome, if not well-meaning, atte
mpts.

As for Meier’s dutiful account of my dear sister’s final days, I was moved on a deep and personal level. I had wished for so much of a better a fate for her, but I admit to having long since presumed her dead. Still, there was a part of me that suspected the absolute worst imaginable, namely, that she herself had been the necromancer. This came from the fear that our combined power in her body would have warped and corrupted her. Her passing is what defined her best qualities. I have not yet stopped grieving for her and indeed for my once innocent niece. Wherever they are now, I hope that at my end in this world whatever power there is that decides these things will take me to them, and together Kuvali and I might slowly bring our precious Suvira to her peace.
Liebe ist für alle da.
Suvira’s final word proves, I think, that anyone can be saved. I, for one, believe that the loss of her power is what loosened the curse on her heart. The dark oath undone, her human heart began to beat again. What pain she must have felt as she uttered her final word
…
It makes me weep even now to think of it. That is all I have the heart to say on the matter and on myself as
well.

Next, I will give due credit to my coauthor. He is a strangely cheerful sort these days, having been changed forever by Meier, as so many have. The lad has many talents, but the taming of hearts in turmoil is his greatest by far. He has an effect on people, and it has nothing to do with magic. But I digress. Our observant coauthor visits me, and indeed Meier quite often, but now it is not out of obligation, but out of a deep and unprecedented friendship. Yes indeed, as you, the reader might have guessed, the coauthor is none other than our noble friend, Raven. As for his ongoing story, he is the sire of several chicks now, and once they get their feathers, he has promised to bring them around. His sections of the tale are by far the most trustworthy, for as everyone knows, a raven never forgets anything. His tale was recorded in the raven archives as well, and this has given rise to a request from the other ravens that he should continue to make observations in Valahia as best he can. Naturally, he is all too happy to do this. As for the incredible reports of the afterlife that Raven carried to them, it is still considered to be questionable based on hearsay, but despite this, there are many believers. What they have guessed, our Raven
k
nows.

As for missing parts of the Karavunian tale, Raven went to them after leaving Meier on the border of Suvira’s realm. Mostly, he was just an observer, knowing that none among them could understand him. He did intervene just once, and this was to guide them to Allie. It took him some doing, but he got them to change course by way of hopping and head shakes. He even stooped to
pointing
his wing and waving them along like a monkey (his words, not mine), and this they understood at last. The rest of that journey is known. So ends my words regarding Raven. I expect he may visit today, come to think o
f it.

Next, I feel inclined to mention an interesting bit of castle drama. I shall start with General Behren. As stated before, he has a daughter of eighteen years (now). As it turns out, she is quite a beauty and smart besides. Her name, which was not given before, is Elora. It was her presence at a royal banquet that started the whole t
hing.

Keep in mind this important fact. Behren is fiercely protective of his one remaining child. That much could have been easily predicted. Her beauty was enough to merit a polite gaze from all present, but it was her
conversation
that charmed the crowd. Elora has a quick wit, an excellent grasp of humor, and an almost fearsome penchant for directness. This is not to say she is an offensive sort. Quite the opposite, in fact. She lauds, laughs, jokes, and sees beneath the surface of a person’s exterior. The girl is a delight. Were I a hundred years younger or so, I might have felt what the other suitors did that n
ight.

Two men caught her eye that night, based not on title but on who they were underneath. One was rash and brazen, and the other polite and earnest. One might quickly guess who the first one was, and the shrewd might have guessed who the second was as well. It was Quickspear that approached her immediately after the dinner, weaving through the crowd and ignoring all hails and words from any other. They might as well not have existed for all his singularity of purpose. I was there so I should know. He bowed low and garishly then took her hand and kissed it. What followed could only have been his best attempt at curbing his accent, for I could not hear with these ears. She gave him a questioning look and a smile, chuckling at his flashy display and remarkable courage in baring his feelings. Behren gave him a murderous glare, at which point Quickspear backed off and said goo
dbye.

It might have been the first time he had been put off the game in his life, which could only have been a sign of his undying admiration and respect for Behren. It might also be worthy of mention that Behren had gone gray-haired almost overnight after the end of the troubles, probably because of the stress of his ordeals. He is now even more weathered and distinguished than before. As for the second suitor, well, let’s just say he was far more subtle, but still not without his charm. In fact, in days passed, he was considered the most eligible bachelor in all of Valahia. Yes, as you have now guessed, the second suitor was King Ian him
self.

But Ian had a terrible set of problems. One, he did not want to offend Behren, but this much he was ready to try and work out. Perhaps, in time, the gruff general would agree to her right to court. However, he knew that Quickspear, being true to his name, would try harder than he would, possibly wearing Behren down much faster. So that was Ian’s first problem. The second was that he was six years older than Elora, which, while not
quite
scandalous, is still a significant age difference here in Valahia, not so much for his number, but for hers. She was barely an adult, despite her mature demeanor. Quickspear, on the other hand, is only four years her senior, which is a favorable number. So there was problem two. Ian’s last and greatest problem was one of his own choosing. He did not want to court anybody as a
king,
he wanted to court as a common man, not allowing his title to interfere with their possible feelings. Quickspear, as captain of the skirmishers, had no such compunction, if indeed the man has ever possessed compunction in his life. So there was his third problem. Would she even want to be a queen? Ian thought probably not, given her personality. Well, they had that much in common. In any case, the two men were resolved, each in his own way, to vie for her affect
ions.

The day after the dinner, Quickspear was up at daybreak and at Behren’s doorstep in the heart of Targov. Being welcomed inside, he found that Ian was already there. Luckily for them, Elora is a heavy sleeper. Incidentally, she snores fiercely as well, but that is not of great importance. The men chatted idly for a while and then it came. They managed to both say, “May I court your daughter?” at exactly the same
time.

An unbelievably tense round of glances went around. Behren took a deep breath, and then his face went red. In no uncertain terms, he offered to soak each man’s head in a water trough, regardless of who they were. There ended the “visit.” Later on, I think it was a week, Behren apologized to Ian and then grudgingly to that rascal Quickspear as well. His reasoning was simple. His daughter was too young! He couldn’t be blamed. It was only later that this Valahian intrigue thickened. It was all very secret and well concealed, so naturally the rumors came at once. I want to say that she started to like them on her own, but it could have been the rumors that piqued her inte
rest.

Her problem was twofold. First, she
sort of
liked both of them, each in their own way. The other was, of course, her father. While others have alluded to her intrigue being based on flattery and vanity, I know better. Elora is not that shallow. She was honestly drawn to each man, but who can know without proper courtship if they truly get along with a person? Quickspear continued to wait a polite (well, polite for him) amount of time before renewing his request, each time with the same result. Behren was getting tired of the man, but that is because there is something he still doesn’t know about the Oameni people. When it comes to courtship, they are persistent. It demonstrates that they are earnestly seeking one person above all others. The greater the resistance, the more their affection can be relayed by renewed advances. There is a simple beauty in that, I t
hink.

Ian had another approach. He merely asked Behren humbly to let him know when he was ready to change his mind regarding the matter of his daughter’s courtship. Ian said he would gladly wait as long as needed. One can easily guess which approach Behren was more move
d by.

Weeks passed, and by now you might think “This has gone on long enough!” and I agree. Behren finally let the two men know that it was all right to politely ask her for
small
pieces of her time on occasion. This was partly because his daughter was getting fed up with his protective nature. So it was that the game was on; and everyone, and I mean
everyone
in Targov, knew about it. Naturally, the story went all over the place, and soon it reached even the farthest reaches of Valahia and straight into Karavunia as well. You might think that was excessive. I tend to agree, but so it
goes.

In any case, Ian had the hardest time. He tried to make time, and indeed he forced himself to. Quickspear was out of the city quite a lot as well. Elora was overwhelmed by the two of them. Slowly, she began to make up her mind. They both became her close friend, which as everyone knows is the best way to fall in love with someone. She told them both that she had finally decided, and each man assumed it was the other. She let them each think that for a brief time, but only to see what they would do. It would be the final test for the man she loved, which, if he failed, would mean that she would marry neither of
them.

As it turned out, they both passed. Each man was gracious, both to her and to their rival. On the night that she met them both in turn, Quickspear made an astounding and uncharacteristic confession. He told her that he truly loved her but admitted that he knew in his heart that he could only see her as a friend. Such was their relationship and still is today. They embraced, and she confessed that she loved him as well and in the same way. Sometimes that happens, you know. People realize on their own what the other is thinking. Elora was immensely reli
eved.

That night, she met with Ian as well, and he made much the same concession to her and his worthy rival and friend, but not the same confession. Namely, his avowal was that he truly loved her and
not
just as a friend. He pledged not to get in the way, and began to make some sappy speech. So she just went ahead and kissed him. And there you have it. Ian got a nice surprise. The rest is boring, so I’ll spare you. Elora is going to be queen of Valahia, even though she doesn’t really want to be. She just loves Ian enough that she’s willing to put up with it. The two are engaged and might be for a while. They’re dragging their feet, I can tell you. Quickspear is to be the best man, and he remains to be Elora’s closest friend, right after Ian. Even Behren seems happy about the whole thing. No man was good enough for his daughter, until one finally
was.

Well, that was a lot of that, but I’m a romantic at heart you know. On to our friends Dor and Trent. The two men are almost never apart. What they do is what only they can do. They travel the countryside, looking for those in need. They help where they can. The two men are the greatest kind of hero. Owing to this grand statement of mine, there is a special account that must be
told.

It happened only a month or so after the golden wave. These two saved the country from another war and all by themselves. The wave went beyond Valahia and Karavunia. It went into Gunar as well. While Valahia was celebrating, the Gunars were plotting another invasion of the severely weakened kingdom. Once a particularly clever member of the court ascertained this (by use of a mirror or two), the royals were distracted by the conundrum until a pair of emphatic volunteers appe
ared.