Brynn Dharielle. You must prepare your emissaries to accompany me quickly, for the road will grow more difficult with time, I fear."
"They are already prepared," Yatol Wadon told him. "They would have left this very day had not you unexpectedly arrived in Jacintha. Upon hearing of your arrival, I had hoped that you would present yourself as a formal emissary from Dharyan-Dharielle, and I would be lying if I told you that I am not disappointed to learn that this is not the truth. Your friend is not so seasoned in her role as leader, I suspect, and so her ignorance of the present mounting danger is forgivable."
Again Pagonel nodded, though he hardly agreed with the assessment.
Certainly this issue with Bardoh was more Mado Wadon's fight than Brynn's, though the consequences to Brynn and to To-gai could be dire, should Bardoh prove victorious. Still, it was not a point worth arguing with Yatol Mado Wadon over at this time.
There would be plenty of other more important arguments to make, Pagonel was sure.
Chapter 6 When Conscience Knocks
Aydrian awoke in a cold sweat. He was lying on his back, staring up at the darkness, but the blackness stirred and images of dead Constance Pemblebury assaulted him, her pale arms reaching out for him in his mind.
Hovering behind her was a huge face, elongated and twisted in agony, and despite its contortions, Aydrian certainly recognized it, for he keenly remembered the horrified look on King Danube's face as the cold hand of death had closed over his heart that fateful day up on the trial stage in Ursal.
Had these two ghosts come to haunt him? The young king shook himself further awake and the images dissipated, leaving him alone in the dark. "Only a dream," he told himself.
Slowly, the young man composed himself enough to roll onto his side. He had killed. He had killed Danube, and Merwick, and Torrence, as well as the unfortunate driver and the other escorts. All had been murdered on his orders.
For the most part, Aydrian never considered such things, keeping his vision along the greater road that lay before him, his ascent to immortality, his elevation of himself above all others. He believed in that road, desperately so.
But the price... Aydrian winced as he considered the dead already left in his wake. Many had been deserving of their fate - like the pirates who had tried to double-cross him on the return from Pimaninicuit - but others perhaps not so deserving. And worse, Aydrian understood that the dead thus far would be but a minuscule fraction of those who would fall in the war that would inevitably engulf Honce-the-Bear, or in the conquest of Behren, or of Alpinador.
Aydrian rolled out of bed, propelled by the guilt and the sudden doubts.
He rushed out of the house he had procured in this small village north of Ursal and ran over to the grouping of wagons, which included his personal coach. He waved away the confused and concerned guards and climbed into the coach, closing the door behind him.
The moon was up. The lighting was just right.
Across from his seat, Aydrian pulled aside a small curtain, revealing the mirror he used for Oracle.
He sat back and stared, letting his thoughts flow freely within him. He felt the pangs of guilt and did not push them aside, though he did offer internal debate against them.
Conscience must be the guide of any true leader.
The thought came out of nowhere, and it startled Aydrian. He digested the notion, panic rising within him as he considered the implications.
And then he looked at the mirror, at the shadowy form that had taken its blurry shape in the lower left-hand corner.
Waves of guilt assaulted him; a silent plea arose within him beckoning him to abandon this road of certain war.
In that moment, it all made sense to him, and he grimaced, tormented, as he considered the cold body of Torrence Pemblebury lying beneath the dungeon stairs of Castle Ursal. In that moment, Aydrian felt adrift.
In that fleeting moment.
King Danube played in the arena of glory.
The second shadow appeared, taking greater shape in the mirror.
That last thought rang out again within the young king. Danube, too, had been king of Honce-the-Bear. Danube, too, had made decisions of life and death, and had gone to war. This was the game of humanity, the quest for glory, the quest for immortality - though few humans understood the truth of it, Aydrian knew.
And they were all going to die, after