A Life for a Life | A Fantasy Short Story

River

Kingdom of Amaryah

Three days before Spring, 2759 DP

Neir decided he wouldn't hate his nickname due to one simple dream.

Okay, well, it's not simple.

He decided he might as well fully embrace the rhymed equivalent of his name. After all, why would the Almighty choose him to be a seer if Neir wasn't supposed to use his gift for good?

I'm going to save Father.

Neir repeated it to himself for about the fortieth time since he had decided upon the quest. He just didn't know how to bring the promise to fruition.

Neir wouldn't be able to fight the assassin. He was no warrior, at least not yet. He had three days! To become a warrior, it would take... he thought a moment. It would take at least a few weeks! He didn't have that kind of time.

"Neirnis̈hënon!" The king's olive hand fell from his dark beard. "How many times have I told you to keep that rat out of the Gateway?"

Neir remembered when he first discovered what a real gateway was. Apparently, they were breaks in fences where people and animals could pass through. This Gateway was a massive room, an entirely too-wide corridor that held the King's throne. His father had explained that this had been the spot where their long-ago ancestor had seen the Heavens open up. The Almighty had descended from Heaven on a golden ladder and had promised this land to them. Hundreds of years later, that promise had been fulfilled, and the kingdom of Amaryah had been born. To show reverence for the sacred spot, the heart of the palace—the Gateway—had been built where the promise had been made.

It was where the divine met the undeserving, where Amaryah's kings met foreign dignitaries and made their judgments, and where royalty was crowned and names were given. To enter it, one had to don one's whitest clothing—and then immediately thereafter, burn them.

It was sacred, even for a calico rat.

If the Almighty gave them this land, didn't He also give it to their pets?

"I think just once, Father. But can't Ruishë stay? She'll listen and not make a sound."

"She listens to you so easily, does she?" he mused, stretching out his palm toward the rat. Ruishë gingerly crept forward, sniffed his hand, and promptly ran up the length of his white-clad arm. She scampered over the gloriously embroidered shirt, around the king's broad shoulders, and down the other arm.

Father chuckled as Ruishë returned to Neir and spun around once in excitement in his smaller hands, her tricolored coat a blur. "At least she partially wears the right color."

The enormous doors, gilded with quartz, diamonds, and crystals, swung open.

The white-clothed foreign dignitaries trekked in, escorted by ghostly guards. Neir eyed each of the three foreigners closely.

Are you the assassin?

Neir had no way to tell. And since he had no way to tell, he'd just have to stay by his Father. After all, that's why he let Aylë don him in white clothing so he could follow Father into the Gateway. But first, he needed a plan of action. Simply following would not be enough. What if the assassin showed up? If he couldn't fight the assassin, what could he do?

Father had been the one who let him ride on his shoulders, had brought him to tournament matches, and had played swords with him. Father had given him Ruishë! He couldn't let the assassin succeed! If he did... Neir gulped as he glanced at the white marble throne. Seven years old was awfully young to be king.

He pondered. He pondered so hard he missed seeing the delegate concentrate as he said his father's name. Ruishë squirmed on his shoulder and squeaked thrice.

"Shhh. I told Father you'd stay silent," he whispered, taking her into his hands. And I said you'd listen, too. Perhaps I should, as well.

They were talking about some mountain river on the border of Amaryah and Houndal. Neir nearly dropped Ruishë. He had heard many Houndals had died during the winter—they weren't allowed to sail or even fish in the river. Amarya soldiers would shoot on sight.

The Houndal delegate grew flustered. "It would welcome more livelihoods into the valley! The people of Houndal would be given the chance to flourish. My lord, your people would benefit from such a trade! Allow our people to work side-by-side with Amaryah."

"Your king married a Yousi princess naught but a year ago. He all but declared war on Amaryah with such a union."

"King Hesh desires only peace and prosperity for his people."

"One could wonder if Houndal seeks prosperity to overtake the borderlands of Amaryah, perhaps even take the Gateway itself, if only to increase the prosperity of his pockets. After all, the Yousi people are warlords. They have hungered for the Gateway for over a thousand years. I doubt they care whether they take it themselves or have one of their puppets do their bidding."

"What would you have King Hesh do? Renounce his wife's family?"

King Rylaeshykon answered with resolute silence.

"My lord, King Hesh is... willing... to relinquish the Bordikon in exchange for the river."

"The river itself? Hm." Father sat on his pedestaled white throne. His voice was as hard as the seat itself. "No."

"My l–"

"Do not take me for a fool, Delegate Sind. The Aer River flows from Yousi lands. With your new queen on your throne and access to my river, Yousi armies could march across your lands and sail under the guise of your flag. They would then dock at Amaryian ports and rape and pillage my people. What did they promise Hesh? The west lands of Amaryah? Perhaps the Sheir itself? Tell Hesh to send his wife back to her lands, hand over the Bordikon, and burn the border with Yousi. Then he may sail on my river and your people can work the ships and eat from the waters."

Neir's eyes went wide. That's it!

His father was talking about trading a whole river. Surely he could trade with the assassin! He wanted his father's life, so Neir would just have to give him something he wanted more!

Neir nearly bounced on his toes, giddy with victory, and stepped closer to his father's throne.