Culling of the Blood

Chapter 13-Ashes to Ashes

 "Enough!" Mirkesh bellowed breathlessly. "I did not come here to answer your summons, good king, but to make my demands while you remain the current ruler of Kär Roanwolde."  

"Do not bore us with pretense, Mirkesh. Your motives are clear to me," Kaj'ryk said, signaling for Gannonor to bring calm to the throne room.

"Necromancy is a forbidden practice among the Jorhinaar. Even conspiring with practitioners is punishable by immediate execution under the tenets set by your ancestors and mine—the Mhadurai. I needn't tell you what damage would be done to the line of Valydrienn if word of this atrocity were to get out." Bowing his head in false deference, Mirkesh grinned malevolently. "The legacy of your family would be irrevocably tarnished."

"You dare threaten the crown!" Gannonor shouted.

Kaj'ryk removed the golden circlet from his head, staring pensively at the crown as he slumped against the back of his throne. "What are your demands?"

"Father!" Adiadithiel cried.

The weight of the political drama was not lost on Quadir. Having been a Renaissance performer and an actor in such integral schemes, he knew the curtain was falling on the final act. Only the play unfolding before him here was real, the consequences indelible.

"You will abdicate your throne, as planned, but in favor of your son," Mirkesh said. "Your bloodline will be secured for centuries to come. Your legacy—unblemished."

"What you ask assures the banishment of my daughter from her only home."

"But she will live. And from the looks of it, happily ever after. At least, until the last Dakaari falls." The necromancer nodded to her with a smirk. "I haven't finished that chapter as yet and cannot speak to her safety when it does end."

"I'll keep the porch light on," Quadir said, returning the sorcerer's sneer. He felt Adiadithiel's hands on his shoulders.

"I want you gone from this palace, Mirkesh, never to return," Kaj'ryk ordered. "Never to set foot upon these ancestral lands again. Not you or any taint of you, for all of time. If you honor this accord, I will do as you ask."

Mirkesh bowed, with sincerity, and placed the phylactery on the floor at the foot of the throne dais. "I offer you this small recompense in honor of our pact, good king. May you rule well in these ... your final days." Turning curtly on his heel, the necromancer glanced over his shoulder to Quadir. "Daol sidh fanil, Dakaar'I," he said, retreating from the throne room with his remaining Bás Anáil guardian.

"General Gannonor," Kaj'ryk whispered, his face lined with exhaustion. "There isn't much time. Send riders to every Human settlement within 50 leagues of the Roanwolde Forest. Warn them of what is to come."

"Make that 100 leagues," Ereithaar said. He was escorted into the room between seven armed guards. "Because I intend to kill any Human found within that distance, and I will view any incursion into that No-Man's Land as a definitive act of war."

Adiadithiel wrested herself away from Quadir's arms and ran at her brother. "I hate you!" She slapped him so hard that the blow brought blood to the corner of his mouth, and then she vehemently spit in his face.

"So feral, sister, so undisciplined." Ereithaar wiped the spittle from his cheek. "Behavior unbecoming of a noblewoman, unbecoming of an Elf, unbecoming the illustrious line of our family. A wild mage—you're an aberration of nature that belongs in the Human world. As do you," he said, glaring at Selestryel. "I will have no need of a sympathetic, poetry-spewing jester as my court mage."

"Yet you've fallen in with a Human necromancer, a mage whose magic is a contradiction to everything the Jorhinaar hold sacred. I've heard enough," Kaj'ryk said. "You are not king yet. Return him to his chambers until further notice." The monarch stared after his son until the guard had escorted the prince into the corridor. Sighing in utter defeat, he whispered, "Selestryel, Ereithaar has little love of sorcerers. He means what he says. He'll banish you. After the Ilbád'ne de Éirasdiad, it will not be safe for you in Kär Roanwolde. If Adiadithiel had not managed to control her powers, you once spoke of a contingency plan far beyond these borders?"

Selestryel bowed his head more in sorrow than respect. "Arrangements were made, King Kaj'ryk, and I am willing to execute them on your order."

"This will be my last command to you as court mage." Kaj'ryk laid the crown on the floor beside his throne. "May you walk in the way of our ancestors."

"Father, you can't possibly allow this to happen," Adiadithiel pleaded. She took his hand and held it against her face. "You can't let Ereithaar get away with this."

"He already has." Kaj'ryk caressed her cheek and tried to smile.

"What makes you think he will not turn on you?"

"You needn't worry, my lady," Gannonor said. "I will not leave your father's side. I serve one king, and he is standing in this room."

Kaj'ryk took the green cloak from the seat of the empty throne beside him and draped it over his daughter's shoulders. "This robe was a gift to your mother that I presented to her on our wedding night. May it serve you well," he said through trembling lips. Fastening the clasp, he kissed her on the forehead. "If the ancestors will it, we will be together again someday."

Embracing his daugher, Kaj'ryk turned to Quadir. "Much has been asked of you without much given in return, Quadir Janszoon. Will you honor the tradition of the Dakaar'I and keep my daughter safe?"

"I took an oath, and I intend to keep it," Quadir said, looking at Adiadithiel, "or I'll die trying."

"The legend of the Dakaar'I is not without merit. Go with my blessing, and do what I could not. Protect my daughter." He pulled a dagger and its silver scabbard from his belt and handed it to Quadir. "This dagger has been carried by Elven kings immemorial, from the first to the last guardian of Kär Roanwolde. It will mark you as a friend of the Roanwolde Elves, no matter who sits upon the throne, and will demand good tidings from any Jorhinaar beyond these borders."

Moved by the gesture, Quadir accepted the weapon. "Thank you."

"Gannonor see them off. Provisions, horses—four of your best archers and swordsmen—as well as missives for safe travel," Kaj'ryk ordered, turning his back on them. "When they leave, no one is to mark in what direction they traveled."

"Father?"

"Good bye, Adiadithiel," Kaj'ryk said. "Selestryel, I commit them to you.

"Byr sé ahlan ànet mir dhalesh." With a hand over his heart, the archmage ushered Quadir and Adiadithiel behind a contingent of guards departing the hall.

"This farewell is like death to my heart," Adiadithiel translated for Quadir. She lingered to watch her crestfallen father as Kaj'ryk ripped the roses from his throne and threw them to the floor, his hands bloody from the thorns.

With a deep breath, Quadir took the $100,000 Budweiser check from his pocket and stared at it. Rubbing his fingers over the embossed logo of a Clydesdale horse, he put it into a nearby brazier and watched the corner ignite in the flames.

"What's that?" Adiadithiel asked, turning from her father for the last time.

"Little something left over from my old life." Quadir chewed anxiously at his lower lip and then tossed the curling paper into the fire. "I don't need it anymore."

"Was it valuable to you?"

Quadir smiled sadly, turning her around to look at their reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. He kissed the top of her head and held her in his arms. "What you see is everything I truly value in this world." 

 Hand and hand with Adiadithiel, Quadir hurried from the palace and followed Selestryel to the stables, fleeing toward an uncertain destiny and leaving nothing but ashes behind him.

                                                                          Finis