Rise of the Dead Prince (48 page)

“Not good enough at all!” cried Dane from the corner of the hall. Allie sighed. Dane quickly added what had been omitted. “She was amazing! She cleared the way on
both
sides by twirling the spear in long sweeps, quick as the wind! She kicked and she snarled at them defiantly, denying them any chance to touch her! She has no equal, save perhaps Master Quickspear, and even then, the measure is slight!” he cried out across the hall. The men began to smile. That is
exactly
what they had been looking for. Dane’s wife suddenly appeared in the hall like a silent phantom and quickly dragged him away before he could even fill his cup. Quicksilver reclaimed
his
cup from in front of Allie and raised it
high.

“T’ Allie!” he said loudly. The cheer was repeated all around, some even matching Quickspear’s clipped speech. Ian went into a short bout of nodding then shaking his head with his eyes narrowed in scru
tiny.

“Allie,” he said, almost in disbelief, “I think that’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. You bowled over and charged through over a
hundred
dead soldiers, with just as many on each side, and didn’t take so much a scratch on yourself.
AND
you did it carrying two hundred pounds of dead weight in the shape of Dane. Not to mention, you played it down as though it was the most natural thing in the world.” The hall was filled with laughter, with many men hailing and toasting Allie again. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe it. It was more that they believed that she had left out some of the good parts, which by Dane’s reckoning was certainly true. Allie stood up and growled, holding her arms out and waving them down as others rose as
well.

“You sad idiots,” she said firmly, albeit with a smile on her face. “Weren’t you listening?” she asked them then went on, holding up three of her pretty, petite fingers. “Three things. First, Dias took all the scratches, and that’s because
he’s
the amazing one,
not
me. Second, Dane wasn’t dead weight. He managed to kick and block a few weapons that were going to clip us from behind. Last, and most importantly, the thing I told you to begin with, if you dullards remember, was that we got
lucky!
Pssh, pay attention!” she said then folded her arms and sat down again, shaking her
head.

There was a moment of stunned silence. They had been called “idiots,” “dullards,” and the Karavunians had been called “jokers” to boot. The men all looked at each other, smiles widening. Uproarious laughter followed, and yet another round of toasts went out, even among those with empty cups. Quickspear leaned in through the ra
cket.

“Hav’ y’gat any sisters ahr fren’s I can meet tha’ mai’ be int’rested in marrying a hero like me?” he asked honestly. She just smiled at him and pushed his arm off the t
able.

“Off wit’ ya,” she said mockingly, craning her head forward at him as she did. The display sent him into an uncontrollable bout of true, unforced laughter. Quickspear had no way of knowing, but Allie had an Oameni brother-in-law that had always made her laugh. She was fairly sure that he was gone, as was her sister, but Allie found that she quite liked the familiar feeling that Quickspear’s presence gave her. It made her want to go out and find her half-Oameni nephews and nieces, if they still lived. But then there were so many lost or displaced families, and hers was no excep
tion.

Ian shrugged in his seat. “Point taken, Allie,” he said happily. “I just have one request.” She was listening, somewhat mistrustfully. “Let us call you
hero,
” he requested earnestly. Allie stood up again and waved him
off.

“Ach, do what you want, Ian,” she said and then saw the old man on the terrace, smiling down at her. “By the way
…
,” she said. All ears were open. “You need to hear what Crocus has to say about what happened in the south. Also, I’m very mad at you for forgetting about him! He’s a ridiculous and shameless prankster
…
but
he’s also a dear old man. And he has
real
magic, Ian.” Allie walked up the stairs to meet Crocus halfway then escorted him arm in arm down the stairs to the king’s table. Ian had to admit to himself that he
had
forgotten Crocus with all that had been going on. His thoughts strayed to the last time he had talked to him, there in Meier’s room when Raven had visited to ask about Meier’s departure. He had thought it was odd but then had been consumed by other things. In any case, he invited the old man to take Allie’s place at the t
able.

Ian looked at Crocus sheepishly. “I’m sorry for forgetting you, Crocus,” he said meekly, but this gave way to an expectant
look.

“That’s quite all right, King Ian. Speaking truly, I mostly prefer to be left alone,” he said consolingly. All eyes were on the old man. “So shall I start at the beginning or shall I tell you the end first? I imagine the latter is best. It has less suspense, though. No fun at all,” he said smugly. Ian si
ghed.

“If you have news, please give it. I’ll ask you also to reveal
how
you have it,” said Ian curtly. Crocus cleared his th
roat.

“To start, there is this. Many of you have guessed, but I
know.
Meier has indeed defeated the necromancer, and what’s more, he found a way against all odds and seeming impossibilities to destroy
all four hundred thousand
of the necromancer’s minions. This was a gesture that undoubtedly cost him his life. However, he somehow has it back, and he
is coming home!”
Despite the incredible news, there were no cheers for Meier yet, for these had been quieted with the suspicion that the old man was perhaps senile. He read the crowd perfe
ctly.

“I know because I have
seen
it by using magic. Ian, I know what you might think. You know me as a doddering jester, and indeed this an accurate assessment. The truth is that I’ve hidden my true nature from you, and indeed everyone, for many, many years. However, it would be better, I think, if I show you, rather than expect you to believe me,” he said plainly. Hearts rose. The heroes that sat at the table began to bel
ieve.

“First, I’ll need a mirror
…
,” he trailed off. “But I should mention there aren’t many left in the castle
…
and I am the culprit.” Silence followed. “They break, you see
…
perhaps the king’s mirror? Meaning, of course, that you don’t mind it breaking very soon. Probably. Well, maybe
…
It’s a long story, King Ian, so I’ll spare you the details. May I use your mirror?” Ian looked highly skeptical, most especially after the given resp
onse.

“Yes,” he said in a long
note.

“Excellent! Thank you for that. We can either go there or bring it here. Which would you prefer? Of course, Prince Lotho, excuse me,
King
Lotho is not likely to make it to your chamber very quickly,” Crocus said, looking at the Karavunians kindly. They suddenly exchanged furtive glances. Something had stunned
them.

“You called me prince? Can you explain why? Do so and I, for one, shall believe you,” said Lotho evenly. The Karavunians all took notice. All eyes were on Crocus. The old man hummed, as if remembering somet
hing.

“Your father was king for two days, if I recall, which made you the prince for three days, following the fall of your eldest brother. Am I correct?” Crocus posited. The Karavunians exchanged glances a
gain.

“That
is
correct, old man. How did you know that?” asked Lotho, clearly baffled but still suspic
ious.

“I saw it in a mirror, King Lotho
…
just an ordinary mirror like any other. As for
why
I was looking, the truth is that I was very concerned after the fall of Karavunia City. I had hoped beyond hope that your people would still have a leader among them. I saw your brave, impossible march south. Your story has been recorded, Young Lotho, as I have recorded the bravery of your people. I hope you do not object,” the old man said, looking at them all. The Karavunians were all confused. They had never truly believed in magic before the plague hit
them.

“Right on all counts, Master Crocus. And as for the rest
…
it is good that someone that still lives has borne witness to the darkest chapter in our history. There are many, many names
…
,” said Lotho, but choked up momentarily, suddenly assaulted by his long repressed emotions. “There are many
…
and I would have them remembered.” Lotho regained his composure and looked at the misting eyes of his men. They were, every one, harder than steel in mind and body. Now that the nightmare was over, they were feeling their hearts aw
aken.

Lotho’s eyes widened as another question came to mind. “Can you see how many of them remain? Of our people?” he asked. Crocus shook his head and si
ghed.

“I cannot see everything. It comes as images and often not for very long. I do know that your people will crowd to the capital, but this much you surely knew. As for their number, I cannot say
…
,” said Crocus, trailing off. The Karavunians bowed. “But I would
guess
that there are some fifty thousand Karavunians left in Karavunia,” he finished. They rose their heads as one, eyes
wide.

“So many,” one mutt
ered.

“More than we hoped,” said another. Lotho smiled and laughed to himself, suddenly clutching his w
ound.

“Thank you, Master Crocus,” he managed to say. Crocus b
owed.

“You are most welcome, King L
otho.”

Ian could not hide his surprise at what he had seen. “What of our people, Crocus? Do you know such things of those in Valahia?” he asked ferve
ntly.

“Yes,” Crocus answered. “And though I’m not sure
exactly
what you mean, I can say there are some one hundred and fifty thousand Valahian survivors
…
approximately. Many are scattered all over, as you would have guessed, but they are all headed home or here. Prepare for extra people. Of course, you have already done that. In other words, I have not felt the need to report anything that you either knew or else correctly guessed at. Do my actions make sense?” he asked honestly. Ian thought for a mo
ment.

“Yes, Crocus, they do. Now let’s get that mirror. You’ve made a believer out of every one of us, and we have not even seen your magic yet.” Behren, from nowhere, slammed his fist down on the table, rattling everything on it. Everyone looked at
him.

“You know what it means?” he asked them all. “Meier
is
coming home!” he hollered with a laugh. The others cheered. Crocus chuckled mer
rily.

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty. Seeing is believing, after all. For all you know, I might have asked about some and guessed the rest!
HA, HA, HA
! So
…
who wants to
see
Meier?” he croaked impishly. There was a round of cheers and laughing again. Without further delay, Ian had two men bring down the large mirror from his wall and into the hall. Crocus commanded that the two men should climb up on the table and point it south by southeast. After a few minor adjustments, he told them to hold it st
eady.

“Meier ought to be in that general direction, at least last I looked. It’s not actually imperative to have the mirror face the correct direction
…
but I won’t bore you with details. Now everyone, huddle around,” he said, motioning them into a semicircle. Allie, who had been quiet for a while, found her way to Crocus’s side. He put his arm around her affectionately. Her heart was racing. Crocus took a deep breath, and his eyes suddenly glowed violet. The men all looked on, mouths agape. “Please show me Prince Meier of Valahia,” he said in deep, steady t
ones.

The mirror’s surface danced and swirled racing to the plains of the southeast. And there he was, followed closely by two other men. They appeared to be laughing and joking. The men, still amazed beyond words at what they were seeing, began to cheer and laugh. Suddenly, Meier stopped and held up his hand to stop the others. Looking up, right into the image, he smiled and waved. He said something, and the two other men did the same, hollering salutations by the look o
f it.

Crocus smiled and said, “It can’t be
…
” He broke into laughter and clapped his hands. “Clever boy!” he yelled, all the while looking at the others. “He can
see
us! That brilliant, sprightly, impossible boy can see us!” Crocus was beside himself. He hadn’t seen such power since
…
but it didn’t matter. “Everyone wave! He’ll see us, I’m sure of it!” They all did, raising their glasses high and saluting. Crocus lost his concentration and was unconsciously holding the image for longer than the magic could withstand. The mirror began to c
rack.

“Watch out, lads! Back up!” Then something else happened that Crocus couldn’t explain. The mirror started to repair itself! Looking at the image, Meier’s hand was extended, and his eyes were glowing
white!
Meier then waved goodbye, and the mirror went dark. Then came the final surp
rise.

“See you soon!”
followed the voice of Meier. It came from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing all over the hall. Crocus nearly fai
nted.

57
Under a Sky so Blue

T
he book had opened. It was more than Meier would ever need and indeed more than he could ever learn in a hundred years. Still, he found that when he asked for it, the page would come up. He felt Kuvali’s knowledge coursing through him, given with her blessing. He felt the pain that had marked and defined Suvira’s life. It was a weight on his heart, tempered by a single thought. There was a place of her own making on the other side. It would be a torturous place, but there was a single light there to guide her home one day. Kuvali would have to raise her little girl again, and this time, she would do it the way she had always wanted to.
Nothing lasts forever
…
not even the darkness. One thousand years later, Meier felt that he understood what Beol had meant. Above all other things, Meier was drawn to the warm light that had been in Crocus. It had been buried and sullied for a time, as had Kuvali’s, but it was the end of their power that had defined them best in his mind. He couldn’t wait to get
home.

Meier, Dor, and Trent sprinted to Targov. They were all different on some level that they could not reconcile or define. For lack of a better term, they seemed to be more alive than dead. Even Meier had no idea why, but he did have a good guess. They had never taken the dark oath. Perhaps, he thought, it was a matter of
intent
when returning to the world, or attitude, as it were. Whatever the reason was, their hearts were beating. On they ran, laughing and joking as they did. They had seen a lot together in the short time since they
met.

They came to Trent’s farm on the second day, and there they stopped briefly to pay their respects at the crudely made cairns that marked the resting place of his family’s ashes. They repaired the mounds and covered them with rocks. Finally, the big man’s story came to light. He wept only as they stood looking at the finished work. The display moved Dor and Meier so that they found themselves shedding silent tears in sympathy. Trent turned to face them then sm
iled.

“It ain’t tears for them. They’ve gone on home at last, and they went together. These tears are for me. I miss them dearly
…
so much I ache from it. These tears are both happy and sad all together. I reckon I ain’t quite so sad anymore, now that I know what I know. I’ll see them soon
…
so soon that they ain’t gonna have time to miss me. These tears are for the ones I couldn’t shed then. I’ve been holdin’ ’em in ’til now,” he said. Dor and Meier listened on respectfully.
“Catharsis is good for the soul.
That was what my wife used to say. She was so pretty and fine. She loved her music so much that I’d see her cryin’ and I never knew quite why
…
’til now. As for my boys and my little girl,” he said with a sudden sob, “I just wish
…
” He couldn’t go on for a few seconds. “I wish I hadn’t been so hard on the boys. They was rowdy, and I kept a firm hand with them. Still, I reckon they knew I loved ’em just the same.” Trent stopped and looked up at the sky. His body shook again, but he soon found his words. “As for my little Rosie
…
she was the apple of my eye.” His face was tightly clenched as he spoke. He slowly smiled again. “I sure wish I coulda watch her grow up. She was so sweet
…
y’all woulda understood right away
…
her little smile could melt the ice right off the ground.” That said, Trent bowed and slowly nodded a few t
imes.

“I ain’t meant to see them just yet. It’s enough to know they’re there waitin’. As for y’all, my dear, good friends, my place is right here in your company. I can feel it. Heaven can wait.” He put his hands on each man’s shoulder. Meier sighed, looking ar
ound.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take this place back? It’s your home. I’ll understand, well, I think I safely say that
we’ll
understand.” Dor nodded his assent. Trent smiled and shook his
head.

“Ain’t nothin’ here I need ’cept to see them stones we put up. This place died with them. My road is with y’all, Meier. I go where you go.” The big man felt another stab of pain in his chest as he looked at the field where he had been forced to put them all down. He averted his eyes from the blacked earth where he had made the pyre. He shut it all out of his mind as best he could, but there was one thing he knew for sure. He never wanted to look on that field again. He didn’t tell them why. That was one thing he knew he would never speak of. Trent suddenly felt the light flowing in him. All he could see now was their smiling faces. All he could hear was his little girl saying,
“I love you, Daddy.”
Trent started to walk off, and his friends followed close be
hind.

On they ran. Meier waited for the right time to ask, but the truth was that there was no good time to ask. “What about you, Dor? We can make another stop
…
if you want.” Dor stopped for a second and b
owed.

“I ain’t got nowhere left, boys. My house burned down to black on the ground
…
And mine ain’t got no graves
…
I didn’t get there in time.” He paused. “Truth is I never knew what happened to them for sure. All I know is I found them
…
headin’ south,” he said in a distant, disconnected way. The two men stopped to hear his story
…
if he wanted to tell it. Dor did not cry. He just got a long stare into the distance. “I didn’t have the heart to do what needed doin’ once I found them. I guess I reckoned they would just
…
wake up.
All I can say now is that I know they’ve gone to their rest at last. That’s enough for me. I didn’t have no children
…
least not yet. I reckon I won’t ever now,” he said somberly. He looked at them both. “I’m done grieving, boys. I done shed my tears
…
when it happened. I can’t feel any more in me.” No more needed to be said. The men just nodded. On they
ran.

The three men, having no more stops, sprinted to Targov in two more days. Once the mood had lightened, which was not long after, Dor cracked another joke that Meier didn’t fully understand. The hunter and the farmer laughed heartily at his expense. They told him that he was either not old enough or southern enough to get it, maybe both. It was easy for them to forget how young he was sometimes, having seen all the wonders he had created. The two days and nights passed quickly as the men laughed, joked, talked about this and that, listened to Trent as he taught them some of the philosophy he had read growing up, and many other things besides. How they had ever thought him to be slow was a complete mystery. He was happy to explain that while he was not a
fast
thinker, he tended to remember quite a lot of what he learned. Dor, on the other hand, was sharp as a tack but had no education to speak of. Meier explained that he had never been either sharp or retentive and then proceeded to tell them about his life before he had died. They found it all quite amu
sing.

“You mean to say you never hit the target until you
sneezed?”
Dor laughed. Meier admitted that was
true.

“You done failed all your less’ns too?” asked Trent, laughing. Again, all
true.

“And I couldn’t lift an axe, swing a sword to save my life, hold my balance on one foot, find a deer that was in front of me
…
the list goes on, my firends
…
The list goes on. I even get lost in the castle sometimes, and I’ve lived there my whole
life.”

These things and many others made the two days fly by. One thing was especially interesting, but it could only be seen clearly by night. Meier
glowed,
even when he was not trying to. He would sometimes flash a bit then apologize and get it under control. What’s more, the two men felt the power leaking off him and into them somewhat. It made them feel both faster and stronger. Such immense power, the power of four gifted sorcerers in one body, could not have been contained by any other than him; although there was no way for Meier to know that. Dor and Trent knew it better than he did, and they one other thing as well. No one should ever have such power, but if it had to go to someone, Meier was the best possible choice. It was not just because he was honest and good. It was because he had never wanted it. Trent had explained it all to them on the
way.

“The best person to give power to is one that doesn’t want it but still feels obliged to make proper use of it. That there is some good philosophy,”
he had said. Dor had laughed, and together he and Trent had looked at Meier, nod
ding.

“Sounds like Ian,” Meier had said, utterly obliv
ious.

The men reached Targov in the midmorning. Word had already circulated to every ear that he would be arriving soon. The people in Targov, while terribly busy with other things, were still close to bursting from the wait. Meier and the two men ran to the patrolling skirmishers outside the
town.

“Hello, gentlemen,” he said casually. They had seen the three men running toward them and had stopped, thinking that their haste might indicate some minor emergency. The second they realized who it was that had hailed them, their eyes got
wide.

“Prince Meier!” they practically yelled. One man immediately broke rank and galloped toward Targov, yelling Meier’s name the whole way. Meier was taken aback, but smiled politely just the same. Word of his pending arrival had even drawn people from nearby cities, all hoping for a chance to lay eyes on him. All told, by the time Meier was within a half mile of Targov, he was swarmed by hundreds of people. Seeing the coming fiasco, Trent quickly hoisted Meier onto his shoulders, sensing, quite correctly, that he would be rendered entirely immobile by the fawning crowd. Dor managed to keep up somehow possibly because of his slightly undead appearance. That much seemed to prove his right to be at Meier’s right
hand.

Hands reached for him, voices called to him, flowers were thrown to him, people raised children, the better to see him, and most of all, people cheered loudly for him. The way was hopelessly blocked until Trent intervened. Carefully controlling himself, he threw his head back and let out a s
hout.

“Come on now, y’all! Let the man through!”
His voice boomed like an exploding barrel, sending a minor shockwave out that temporarily rendered the crowd silent. A neat aisle opened up before them like magic. Trent nodded to the crowd. “Thank y’all for your cooperation,” he said, still in a tone that resounded to everyone’s
ears.

Eventually, the three made their way to Targov, and there things got unbelievably worse.
Fifty thousand
people had gathered to Targov! All were there for one thing, and that was to welcome Meier home. People were packed and crowded in all directions, filling every street and alley, every corner and every stretch. It was absolute bedlam. The sound of the crowd combined reached ears that were miles away. Everyone that had been working dropped what they were doing and joined the th
rong.

After what felt like an hour, Meier made it to the castle, and indeed, the estimate was not far from correct. He touched and shook hands, saluted soldiers, patted the heads of children, and blew kisses back to the mothers and grandmothers that sent them. It was enough to make an ordinary man’s head swell. Meier was no ordinary man. He saw the whole thing as a mildly enjoyable, if not an exhausting, chore. He did it for them. He knew it was what they wanted and needed. They entered the gates, and there a row of guards had to keep the crowd at bay, letting the three men through as they made it there. Once inside, there was another crowd, albeit much smaller by comparison. Looking around, the men saw that the walls were full to the
brim.

Dangerously so. The whole celebration nearly ended with a hideous tragedy. A soldier, a lady with a light build, was cramped toward the edge; and then with an accidental nudge that carried several bodies forward in a line, she fell forward and over the edge of the high wall, plummeting toward the courtyard far below. Two things happened in quick succession. Dor jumped in a straight line for the wall, fast as an arrow, flying over the heads of those in the way. He planted his feet into the wall and went to catch her as he slid down to the ground. It would have been a rough landing. As it turned out, it wasn’t. The woman stopped in midair then floated to the ground as gently as a feather. Dor saw this and pushed off the wall in a back flip, landing on his feet deftly. All eyes that were not on Dor were suddenly on Meier’s outstretched hand, but more than this, they were on his glowing eyes. A hush went over the crowd. Then it exploded. Cheers from inside and outside the walls were louder than ever. Trent called out to the men and women on the wall in his booming v
oice.

“Y’all be careful now!”
he bellowed reproachfully, earning as many looks as Meier and Dor had gotten put together. Trent put Meier down after that. Those on the wall spread out dutifully, their hearts in their throats and their eyes wide. The boisterous nature of the crowd proved untamable. It couldn’t be helped. Before them stood the man that saved the world as they knew it. And then, from the great hall, unwilling to wait anymore, was Ian, finally wearing his crown. He strode forward, face beaming, and embraced his little brother so hard that it popped his back. Separating at last, Ian found that he was choked up. Weeks of strife and desperation blew away like sand in the wind as Meier’s light flowed into
him.

“It’s you,
little brother.
It’s all for you!”
was all he could manage to say before his joy overcame him. He hugged Meier again, and once he had wiped a few tears from his eyes, he said, “You had better give a speech from the wall before they go completely mad, Meier. They all expect it.” Meier gulped but then smiled. Again, he did it for them. They had been through so much. They deserved to be encour
aged.