Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (25 page)

Erlonn Broyva was a greying man of fifty-three, plain faced, a former innkeeper from Anduin.  Chosen to represent the port city on the Common, he served for several years before he’d been nominated as Speaker, and unanimously selected.  He was a quiet, unassuming man.  Probably the reason they chose him.

“I am honored to be here, Your Majesty.  This is only the third time in our history that the Speaker of the Common was invited to sit on Council.”

“You know your history well, Lord Speaker,” Varlock-Sharron complimented respectfully.  He looked at the others.  “Let us skip the pleasantries, shall we?  Lady Marna, would you please share with the Council what you reported to me earlier?”

Without further ado, Lady Marna complied, updating everyone with the most recent information.

When she was through, Erlonn Broyva was shaking his head.  “I had no idea,” he remarked quietly.

“What you just heard, my lord Speaker, you may repeat to the Common,” stated Varlock-Sharron.  “It is time they know a war may be imminent.  Lady Marna?”

“I have dispatched ambassadors to Medaelia, Cordianlott, and Lirdarra.  Volunteers, because of the inherent danger of this mission.  We’re still trying for a diplomatic solution, but I doubt very much we shall have one.”

Varlock-Sharron nodded to her, and turned his attention elsewhere.  “General Bodrir?”

“My liege, the Army is positioned in the Vann Region, likely the main target of this assault.  Unfortunately, I cannot bring all our forces to bear, as we are dealing with a second situation at home.”

“The Falcon Raiders,” the King stated, his tone foreboding.  He could not have asked for a better opening for the main topic of this meeting.  “They are forcing us to waste resources we need to move into position to face Wilnar-Medira’s army.  Do you have something decent plotted to deal with them yet?”

“We finally have a solid plan, your Majesty,” Sir Garvol remarked with an air of mischief in his voice.

“I am ready to hear it,” replied the King with a touch of annoyance.

Constable drey-Sharron and General Bodrir shared a look with Sir Garvol, and after a moment, shaking his head very slightly at them, he began.

“The Common, as you have been made aware, has already begun to show some support for Princess Lyrra-Sharron, and we know that several larger merchants have hired Falcon Raiders to guard their caravans.  We have uncovered considerable, albeit circumstantial, evidence that these mysterious new bands of outlaws are, in fact, the Falcon Raiders in disguise.”

“It’s a cunning idea on her part, and effective,” chimed in General Bodrir.  “Lyrra-Sharron has always been very clever.” 

Sir Garvol spoke again.  “The various Falcon Raiders, and their sympathizers, for that matter, that we captured and questioned here in Gara-Sharron, revealed that they followed the Princess because they believed in her.  Very few said much more than that.”

“Which proves there is only a single problem here,” added Constable drey-Sharron.  “The Falcon Raiders follow Lyrra-Sharron Anduin.  If we remove her, we remove the threat.”

“Get to the point, my lords,” the King growled, clearly becoming agitated.

“For the benefit of Speaker Broyva, your Majesty, we needed to put this into perspective,” stated Sir Garvol.  “Before we ask him to help us, he should know what it is that’s been happening.  The Common is not often well informed.”

“Continue,” stated the King more calmly.  He held is irritation in check.

“We will run the risk of disrupting The Common,” Sir Garvol said.  “It is good, Speaker Broyva, that you are here to be in on this.  We need you, specifically, during a legislative session, to state that you wish to address Lyrra-Sharron personally.  We need you to call her to question, to state her claim against the King.  My office believes she has the ear of several on The Common already, so word should reach her quickly.”

“Bear in mind, Lyrra-Sharron won’t just march into Mintarn,” stated General Bodrir.  “She will not make her arrival public, and will certainly bring a large contingent of well-disguised Falcon Raiders for protection.  She will likely suspect some sort of trap, so she’ll take several precautions to protect herself.”

“The Constable of Mintarn, Jimmon ril-Sharr, will be fully alert, waiting for her arrival,” added drey-Sharron.  “He will make certain to have extra deputies, and be on the look-out for her presence.  Quietly, of course.”

“Further, I will have special elite soldiers from Black Knight Company patrolling all around the city, looking for her Falcon Raiders,” explained General Bodrir.  “We will also have another company hiding within the city, ready to take on the Falcon Raiders should they put up a fight.”

“Our last line of defense is the most complicated, and controversial, Speaker Broyva,” added Sir Garvol.  “We would like to place two or three of my most elite agents among The Common.” 

“I’m not sure I understand why,” remarked Speaker Broyva, crossing his arms.

“Lyrra-Sharron is a greater threat to the stability of Sharron than most are aware of,” stated Sir Garvol.  “Her actions have not gone unnoticed by our enemies abroad.  That is, in part, why they make ready to attack us.  It can be certain they are not alone.  We are the largest, most prosperous and stable kingdom on the continent.  Our army is strong, our borders, solid.  That’s an affront to several of our neighbors.  She is the sole threat, and uses her Falcon Raiders for additional leverage.  The Common is rarely fully convened.  There’s always a village without representation, or nobles not present.  My people would be quietly admitted, and would be unremarkable, until called upon to act.”

“Called upon to ‘act’, how?” asked Speaker Broyva ominously.

“If Lyrra-Sharron is not stopped upon entering the city, when she appears before the Common, they will terminate her.”

“They will what?” asked Speaker Broyva, eyes going wide as he dropped his arms to the side.

The King cleared his throat.  “She must be eliminated.  If she lives, imprisoned, the Falcon Raiders will continue to fight, to try and free her, to try and win her the support of The Common.  I will have more than a band of outlaws trying to usurp my authority.  I will have a full-blown civil war on my hands.  Our enemies will strike, then.  Sharron will be torn apart,” the King stopped, unable to continue.

“If she is eliminated,” continued Lord Tulock for him, “they have nothing to fight for.  They follow her.  If she is gone, they follow no one.”
              Silence followed, punctuated only with the raspy intake of breath from Lady Ara, fighting back tears.

“If....if...” Speaker Broyva paused, cleared his throat a couple times.  “if...if, she, that is, if the Princess is...well, murdered, right in front of The Common, she, well, she may well be martyred right there.  As, as was said, this may, uh, well, this might upset them somewhat.”

“We are aware of this,” stated General Bodrir.

“We are prepared to handle this,” added Sir Garvol.  “As I said, it is our last line of defense, if we cannot take her out before she reaches the Chamber of the Common.  We will now show you the evidence we have obtained that reveals the Falcon Raiders are behind these surprise outlaw attacks, as well as other crimes against the Kingdom.  This information, Speaker Broyva, you cannot reveal to The Common until this crisis is through.”

The Speaker just bobbed his head up and down several times, remaining silent.

Varlock-Sharron had taken aside the Constable, the General, and his Warlord prior to opening this meeting.  They had gone over their latest plan, and he realized it was fortunate the Speaker was in Gara-Sharron, and could be brought in immediately.

“Bodrir, Garvol, drey-Sharron,” the King had decided to make a statement before the whole of the Council, “it has certainly taken a great deal of time and effort on your parts, and my patience you stretched to the limit…but this is finally an idea I approve of.  Show the Speaker all your findings on my daughter’s rebellious activities.”

Over the course of the next thirty minutes, Speaker Erlonn Broyva was shown many forms of evidence against the Falcon Raiders.  The King was silent, as was Lady Ara, though Tulock occasionally added statements, and Lady Marna supplied suppositions about foreign reactions.  When they were through, Speaker Broyva sat quietly, tapping his fingers upon the table.

“Well,” he began, then cleared his throat.  “Well.  Well, well, well.  The Princess and the Falcon Raiders have certainly made life complicated.  I, I knew I should never have taken the chair,” he grunted to himself, then continued.  “I see no other recourse.  It will not be easy, but, yes, you have my support.  I will call for Princess Lyrra-Sharron to present herself before the Common, in Chambers the day after tomorrow.  I will serve you as needed, my liege.” 

“Very well,” responded the King.  “There is much that must now be done.  I know you care not for such things, Speaker, but when this is through, I will reward you for this.  Even if all goes well, you may be removed from your Chair.”

Erlonn Broyva shrugged at that.  “I never really wanted it, anyhow.  Someone else nominated me, I never made a claim…but they chose me all the same.  I would not be unhappy to go back to my inn, see my wife.”

Varlock-Sharron gestured towards the man respectfully.  “I can see, however, why you were chosen, Speaker.”  He glanced around the table.  “General, Constable, Sir Garvol?”

“My people will be in place in three days,” stated General Bodrir.  “They’ve already been called to order at the Loros Barracks.  I ride there myself when we adjourn.”

“I will personally escort Speaker Broyva back to Mintarn, and speak with Jimmon ril-Sharr,” added Constable drey-Sharron.  “I worked with him long ago, and have often considered bringing him back here to serve as my Prime Deputy.  He can be trusted.”

“My people will be ordered to join The Common,” said Sir Garvol.  “A young lady, representing the currently un-represented village of Wolnav, and a pair of nobles, a Lord and a new Knight.  Just so you are aware, Speaker Broyva.”

The Speaker acknowledged the Warlord’s remarks.

“Then we are ready,” concluded the King.  “General Bodrir, move as many of our forces as you can into positions in the Vann Region, as soon as possible.”  Varlock-Sharron addressed Captain-General Callan, “I want you to place as many Guardsmen as can be spared into positions currently being held by the Army in Gara-Sharron.  Coordinate with drey-Sharron, so that the Guardsmen and Constabulary may completely take all of the Army’s positions in and around the Capital within five days.  We know the Medaelians are not likely to strike for another month and a half, but that still leaves us very little time.  Let us free up as many soldiers as possible.” 

Varlock-Sharron addressed everyone present.  “The strategy is sound.  We implement it right now, without delay.  Lady Marna?”

“Your Majesty, we’re doing what we can to bring about a diplomatic solution.  It does not look good, though.  I would like to also dispatch an extra mission to An-Quarvan, to re-assure our northern neighbor that we are not in danger of being picked apart from within, or without.  We should remind them of the Tela-Sharron Accords.”

“Excellent thinking,” approved Sir Garvol openly.

“See it done, then,” commanded the King.  “I think we are through here.  For now.  We have work to do.  Thank you for your time, Speaker Broyva.  Dismissed.”

Quietly, the Council arose, leaving in small groups.  Lady Ara and Lord Tulock remained, awaiting the King.  Noting his mood, they exchanged a look, and quietly left the council chamber together.

Varlock-Sharron sat alone for quite some time.  A King was not supposed to shed a tear, especially when it was about betrayal, family or not.  He would not be seen doing so.

Chapter 20

Cam Murtallan stood before the door, as he’d been for several minutes now.  This moment had been a long time coming, but for some reason, he found himself feeling apprehensive. 

He had lived and worked among the Falcon Raiders for almost three months, and in that time he’d found a group of people with whom Cam shared a mutual respect.  It was a first for him.  He found himself unusually apprehensive, concerned that what would be shared today could alter what he had.  

Cam shook his head, catching himself.  He had something he had to do, and this could not be avoided.  It was his destiny.  Perhaps now was when he would begin again to move towards the fulfillment of that destiny.  Taking a deep breath, calming himself, Cam rapped on the door.

“Enter,” called Lyrra-Sharron from within.

The leader of the Falcon Raiders sat at a small table, sharpening a dagger.  She looked up at Cam as he came in.

“Good, Cam, at last.  Wine?” she gestured to a decanter on the table.

“Thanks,” Cam replied, closing the door behind him.  This room was next to the one Lyrra-Sharron slept in, used as a study of sorts.  Cam noted a few weapons about the room, as well as scrolls, mostly tattered.  He took up the carafe, filled with an old vintage Alcreecian Red that had been discovered in a vault beneath one of the taverns of this village.  Cam poured himself a goblet.

“Have a seat,” Lyrra-Sharron gestured.

Cam noted for the first time that she seemed rather pensive.  It was an unusual characteristic for the leader of the Falcon Raiders.  But the time had come for this.

“I wanted to see you, Cam.  We...have not spoken much since the Brivarn raid.  I know from Andim and Dak that you...want to know the why of this.”

“I do,” replied Cam simply.  “I’ve earned an explanation.  I deserve to know why we fight against the King, your own father.”

“Indeed,” she set down the dagger and sharpening stone, and looked more closely at Cam.  “And it is time that you tell me why you came to Sharron in the first place.”

Cam nodded, “I expected as much.  How do we go about this, then?”

Lyrra-Sharron visibly relaxed, and smirked at Cam.  “I have been debating that myself.”  She paused, considering.  “You have been with us thus far, and I believe you will remain with us.  You still work to regain your strength in Sorcery.  You are, however, the guest in this land.  You are also, among my Falcon Raiders, a subordinate to me.  Would you mind going first?”

Cam chuckled.  “I could argue the opposite, you realize, that as guest and subordinate, you should be first to tell.  However...if you swear, even upon hearing my story, to tell me yours, I shall proceed.”

“On my honor as Princess of Sharron, heir to the crown, and leader of the Falcon Raiders, I swear you shall not leave this room without the answer to your question.”

“Very well, then,” Cam agreed.  “You wish to know what has brought me to Sharron?”

“Indeed,” Lyrra-Sharron replied, clearly relieved he would finally tell her, and obviously intrigued as well.

Cam sighed, and stood.  “This is...not something to be explained simply. You need to know a little background first.” 

He paused, collecting his thoughts, and began in earnest.  “Fifteen years ago, as I was fighting a boy for bread stolen from a merchant’s street cart, my staff was broken, and I retreated against a wall, cornered in an alley.   He was probably sixteen or so, and twice my size.  He smiled viciously as he cornered me, intent on killing, most likely.  Boys that age killed.  He raised his staff to strike, and in terror I lashed out, as if throwing my hands forward, I could ward him off, throw him away…and a fireball came from my outstretched hands.”

“He was thrown down the alley, burning.  It would be the first time I used sorcery, and I was confused, sickened, and terrified at what I’d done.  I hid away for days, crying, afraid.  Sorcery, especially combat spellcraft, is dangerous, sometimes more to its user than its’ intended.  For weeks, I could not accept what I’d done, and denied what had happened.”

Cam began to pace, Lyrra-Sharron watching him with rapt attention.

“I grew hungry.  I had to move about.  After I began to wander the streets once more, I snuck into a library.”

“Before they died, my mother and father had begun to teach me to read, young as I was.  It came back to me quickly.  At first, I wanted to learn how to rid myself of this power.  But soon I realized what it was, what I could do with it.  In time, I found old spell books in the largely forgotten vaults of the city library.”

“I took these, and studied them, until I learned how to read the ancient language, learned how to cast the spells.  I would mark what magic did what, after carefully testing each.”

“I nearly killed myself many times, trying out spells in a language I could not understand, starting fires, freezing things, throwing stones around a room.  But I persevered, and memorized as many as I could, impatient as I was.”

Cam took a sip of wine, set the chalice down, then continued his pacing.

“By the time I was sixteen, I considered myself a Sorcerer.  I walked with a greater dignity, knowing that I was stronger than those around me.  I would go into a shop, put everyone within to sleep, and leave with what I needed.  I soon had coin in my pouch, and decent clothes on my back.”             

Cam ceased his pacing, changing his line of thought.  “It was not long before I exhausted the public library of Aldara, and I was unwilling, even with my powers, to go to the Historical Heart, and try to get into the old Royal Library.  So I decided to move on.  I traveled northeast, to Nevarna.  I eventually found my way to Parfolla, the capital, and explored their library.  It was here that I learned my purpose.”

Cam turned to face Lyrra-Sharron.

“A few nights into my studies at the library, as I slept, I had the most vivid dream of my life.  It was a prophetic dream, I recognized almost immediately.”

“A circle of men and women stood around me, chanting the
Prophecy of The Source
over and over again.  I knew, for I could sense it, as all magic users can, that these were wizards and sorcerers, legends from before The Falling.  I found myself turning, and soon, only one paragraph of the prophecy was repeated by the circle:

‘
To set the world upon a course,

to free these lands of War and Strife,

Comes the finding of The Source,

For which The Seeker comes to life.
’”

Cam took a deep breath, the memory was still preserved, perfectly fresh, and he needed a moment before he continued. 

“In time, this was all they repeated, and I was spinning around, ever faster, until suddenly I halted before one of them.  A very old man, long beard, grey hair.  The only one among them I could sense was stronger than me.  He only said one word to me.  ‘
Seeker
.’  Then the next was before me, a beautiful, but old woman.  She, too, said but one word.  ‘
Seeker
.’  Soon, as I moved around the circle, they all said that single word to me, ‘
Seeker
.’  When I returned to the old wizard, they began to spin around me again, repeating on and on, ‘
Seeker, Seeker, Seeker
’.  Suddenly, it stopped, and all I could see was a great, growing light, blinding me, and a thousand voices as one said simply, ‘
For which The Seeker comes to life.
’”

Cam stood, his hands leaning on the back of the chair that had been his.  Lyrra-Sharron gaped at him, reaching unsteadily for her goblet, taking a long gulp.  She set it down, and took a deep breath.

“Are you trying to tell me that you...that you...that you are...”

“I am the Seeker of The Source,” Cam stated solemnly.  “It is my destiny to unravel the greatest mystery left to us from before The Falling.”

“Seeker of The Source,” Lyrra-Sharron breathed.  “It is here, in Sharron?”

Cam shook his head sadly.  “I do not know.  I don’t know where it is.  I traveled all over Estaria, through Nevarna, Rannora, Garrock, Cordianlott, Medaelia, and finally Sharron, seeking clues to its’ whereabouts.  But I’ve found nothing.”

The look on her face was one of clear skepticism.  “Do you think that maybe after reading the
Prophecy of The Source
, you dreamt this because you wanted some higher purpose, and I can think of no higher purpose for a Sorcerer than to believe that he were The Seeker?”

“True enough.  It wasn’t until the next day, after the dream, as I went through the library, that I actually came across the
Prophecy of The Source
for the first time.  I had only read books that mentioned The Source, prior, but never read a copy of the prophecy.  Imagine my surprise when I came across the text, and it said precisely as those in my dream had.  I do not lie when I tell you that I had never seen it before.”

“How could there be not a single copy of the prophecy in the Aldaran library?”

“I was only ever in the Public library, and while many scrolls and tombs I encountered made mention of The Source, I never came across the prophecy.  It’s very probable that the library at the Historical Heart had such.  But you know as well as I do that while everyone is aware of the existence of The Source, and that there is a prophecy about it, most are unfamiliar with its text.”

“So the library never procured a copy before the Medaelian invasion.  Or else it was removed before I got there.  Or, as I am the instrument of the prophecy, I was not
allowed
to locate it until after my destiny was revealed to me, by whatever force drives this.”

Lyrra-Sharron simply blinked.  “Do you...do you know
what
The Source is?”

Cam grinned ruefully.  “No.  I did not learn that in the dream.  I only know that I am The Seeker, and that it is my destiny to fulfill the prophecy.  That is why I came to Sharron, arrogant and cocky, self-assured in my power.  That is why I must regain what I have lost.  I know my destiny.  Perhaps all too well.”
              Lyrra-Sharron took a deep breath, and began to shake her head.  “I must say, I never truly believed in the prophecy.  If anyone else were to claim to be The Seeker, I would laugh at them.  But you…what I have seen you do, what you must have been before you came here...Cam, it is almost impossible to believe...”

“I know,” Cam said, sitting.  “I know.  But I am absolutely certain, to the core of my being, that it is true.  I have learned much since I...lost my power.  Much about myself and the world I walk.  This has been a trial, a test, and perhaps my passing this test is what will bring me to my destiny.  I owe you more than my life, Lyrra-Sharron.  The world itself may well owe you a debt of deepest gratitude.”

“I do not know about that.  It is an astounding thing…but I believe you.  I know, somehow, you are correct.  You are The Seeker.  To think, The Source will be found in my life...” she paused, and looked more closely at Cam.  “The world will be changed forever, you know.”
              “If the prophecy is to be believed, it will be for the better,” agreed Cam.

“Indeed,” Lyrra-Sharron said.  She drank more wine, then found herself nodding her head.  “I will not be able to hold you here forever, Cam Murtallan, and, I believe, when you find your complete powers again, you will likely continue the journey to your destiny.  I hope that perhaps you will be with me long enough to see me set upon the throne as Queen of Sharron.”

“Perhaps that is why I am with you,” stated Cam, coming to a sudden realization.  “My being in Sharron must serve some greater mission.  You said you would consider removing the law that banned sorcery in Sharron.  If the prophecy is true...”

“Yes, of course,” Lyrra-Sharron interrupted, understanding his meaning.  “Perhaps my Sharron will be a focal point for sorcery, once The Source has been discovered again.  That may well be.”  She paused a moment, clearly having reached a decision.  “Well then, Cam Murtallan.  I swear, if you help me to achieve the Crown of Sharron, I shall remove the law that bans Sorcery in the Kingdom, else may I die at the hands of my own father.”

“Then I am still with you,” Cam replied, adding, “for now.” 

“I knew it had to be something incredible that brought you to Sharron so defiantly.  But I never imagined it was this.  Well…you have lived up to your end of our agreement.  It would seem, then, that the time has come for me to tell you what you wish to know.”             

“Indeed,” replied Cam, unintentionally mimicking Lyrra-Sharron, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.  He had become concerned that she would not share, but realized he should not have been.  Lyrra-Sharron was always true to her word.

“I explained how things work in Sharron, the Crown, the Council, The Common,” she began.  “My father, King Varlock-Sharron, has worn the Crown now for over thirty years.  He poses as a grand, but distant ruler.  I do not know how he was, before my time, but Varlock-Sharron has become a tyrant, a despot who cares nothing for his Kingdom, his people, or his own family.  Over the years, he has only grown more dangerous.”

Cam was giving her his full attention.

“I was not an only child, Cam Murtallan,” she continued, her tone becoming narrative.  “I had an older brother, Karlock-Sharron, and a twin sister, Miara-Sharron.  Both have been gone a long time, now.”