The Silvering of Loran (20 page)

The doors to the receiving room swung open and Kelamar stood in the center of the entrance.

“All over, then?” bellowed Kelamar. “I figured as much when all the ruckus fell silent.” Kelamar motioned toward the hall, where only his guards were present. “All of the guests scampered away when they heard a menacing growl behind the doors.”

Topen strolled over to where Gervest’s blackened stone rested on the hard floor. He plucked it from its surface and carried it to where Loran waited.

“I have a bargain to keep,” said Topen, as he arrived at Loran’s side. He examined the condition of the stone in his hand—it was pristine—before he placed it in a pocket underneath his cloak.

“You will need this back as well,” said Loran.

She handed Topen the stone she had used on Nepsaril. The chamcryst had returned to its natural form, a flawlessly cut, clear crystal stone.

“When you told me I would have only one chance to focus the energy of the chamcryst, I imagined it would look burnt afterwards, like a charred piece of coal,” said Loran. “Seeing it now, it looks so . . .”

“Beautiful?” said Topen.

“
Innocent
, like a trusting child,” observed Loran.

Topen scrutinized the chamcryst lying in his palm as he considered Loran’s thoughtful words. The chamcryst uses the silvering, and although it mimics the power of the stone it duplicates, it doesn’t replicate the spike of a blackened stone. It does not feed upon the user as the blackened stone does.
Maybe she’s right
, he thought.

Loran and Topen met Kelamar at the entrance, and all three left the chamber together.

“Shall we go see if Gervest has adjusted to his cell in the dungeon?” asked Kelamar. “I would like to have been there when Rolam popped in . . . must have been a sight.” Kelamar savored the image he created in his mind as they marched through the hall, on their way to confront Gervest.

THE ASCENSION

––––––––

L
ORAN AND TOPEN GUIDED THEIR horses along Loran’s favorite path in Avileen forest—one that she had been navigating since she was a child. The dilapidated shack—where she once devised a strategy to get her muddy twelve year-old self back into the castle—was just ahead, despite nature’s half-hearted efforts to bring it down.

Arriving with Topen at this place flushed a cascade of memories of their first meeting, not far away. She nurtured a contented smile while she viewed the slivers of sunlight that pierced the canopy of the forest and streamed over the shack.

Daramose stood patiently next to Hermesis while Loran and Topen dismounted and strolled over to the shed. When Hermesis let out a
snort
, Loran looked back to see the two horses rub their faces against each other.

“I think they make a beautiful pair,” said Loran.

Topen glanced back in time to see Daramose shake his head—apparently in agreement with Loran.

“Do you think Gervest is telling the truth?” Loran asked. “Is it possible Nepsaril was controlling him for all these years?”

“I believe Nepsaril corrupted and controlled Gervest at an early age, perhaps a few more times as he grew older, to maintain his domination over him. But Gervest wasn’t being controlled when he threatened me with a blackened stone.”

Topen pulled Gervest’s blackened stone from his pocket and held it up to Loran.

“This stone allows you to control another’s thoughts and actions without them ever realizing it. The more it is used, the weaker the victim grows—as the dark magic spreads its poison. But I believe Gervest meant to use its full power against me, all at once, in an attempt to destroy my mind.”

Topen leaned over and selected a rock near his feet. He used it to chisel at the short pointed spike of the blackened stone.

“Are you destroying it?” Loran asked.

“No, the stone will still be powerful, but until the spike fully re-grows, it can’t be used.”

“How long does that take?”

“Nearly a thousand years,” answered Topen.

He chipped the final nub from the stone.

“I realize Gervest must answer for what he has done,” said Loran, “but you saw how he had changed when we questioned him in the dungeon. He wasn’t arrogant or demanding. He just seemed lost, remorseful.”

“As a student of Nepsaril, Gervest has been taught how to effectively deceive.”

“So you believe nothing has changed with Nepsaril’s death?”

“Gervest no longer has anyone to guide him along the path Nepsaril had set him on; his will is his own. It is not yet clear if he will abandon all that he has learned.”

Loran wandered over to Hermesis. She gently caressed her mare’s long neck with her hand.

“I can’t help but pity him now. His childhood was stolen and his innocence corrupted. I don’t envy our father having to judge him.”

Topen and Loran mounted their horses. Loran took the lead, guiding them towards the narrow path that ends at the southern wall of the castle.

“There is just one more thing I wanted to show you,” said Loran. “It is near where we first met,” she revealed, with an impish grin.

Soon, Hermesis and Daramose rested at the edge of the forest. They strolled across the road that led to the castle gates, and ended their journey at the southern wall of the castle.

Excited, Loran moved swiftly to the wall the moment her feet hit the ground. She repeatedly motioned for Topen to join her, while she scanned the area for anyone close by.

“Quickly,” she whispered, as she playfully relived the consequences of discovery she felt when she was a little girl.

Topen left Daramose with Hermesis and followed Loran to the wall.

“Press your hands here . . . and here,” instructed Loran, as she guided Topen to the stones on the wall that would trigger the pivot point.

Topen did as instructed and the secret entrance, once again, revealed itself.

“Surprised?” she asked excitedly. “We’re almost there.” Loran cupped Topen’s hand and led him into the dim tunnel.

Topen had helped Rondros Avileen with the design of the castle—as well as procurement of the unique stones used in its construction—and was aware of this secret entrance. However, he would never blemish the enthusiasm Loran felt as she guided him to a purpose only she knew.

Loran raised her hand to the wick of a candle, sitting on a stone ledge. The candle burst into fiery light, and she rotated to face Topen.

“I’ve been practicing,” she proudly announced.

Loran guided Topen close to several small pebbles sitting on the ledge. They had not moved since she dropped them there, sixteen-years ago.

“These pebbles still sit here because they represent the moment when I first put my trust in you,” said Loran. “I dropped those there when I accepted that magic could be real. It was the moment that was to change my life.”

Topen stared at the stones, illuminated by the candlelight that surrounded them. But Loran’s green eyes soon pulled his attention—he watched tiny flickers of candlelight frolic on their mirror-like surface. Even if he
could
prevent himself from being drawn into the depth of her gaze, he didn’t want to.

He inched closer to Loran; she responded by slipping her hands along his arms as Topen slowly reached out for her waist. Loran’s desire swelled, anticipating the touch of their lips, but she savored the gradualness of his approach. When they drew so close as to share a breath, Loran swept her hand towards the candle’s flame and snuffed it out. As the dim light filtered from above, and swirls of smoke rose from the candle, their lips joined in a passionate kiss.

* * *

T
he invited guests to the ascension ceremony filled the halls of the castle, as they eagerly fluttered to the receiving chamber. Once inside, they found a seat among the marbled benches that adorned both sides of the great room, and took up the full length of the chamber.

Guards stood near the front of the benches, preventing anyone from occupying the first two rows—except for those guests who were invited to do so. Among those honored, and seated at the far end of the first bench, were Liam and Luciena—who beamed with such delight, she could barely sit still. She rotated her head so often to see who else had arrived, that Liam imagined it might twist off—and at the thought of such a fanciful event, a slight chuckle escaped his lips, followed by a quick cough to disguise his indulgence.

The guards allowed Samuel and Michael Kileson passage to the front row. Samuel acknowledged Liam at the end of the bench—with a soured expression and brief nod. He sat on the opposite end, putting as much distance between them as the bench allowed. Michael, however, presented a courteous, but embarrassed smile as he lowered to sit. He avoided eye contact with Luciena, whose lustful eyes conveyed a reckless interest in him.

“I believe the young man is smitten with you, my dear,” spoke Liam. “But I think your attention is making him a bit uncomfortable.”

With Liam’s words, Luciena realized that she was acting as if she no longer needed caution around him, that Gervest had already taken her for his wife—as he had promised on many occasions before cavorting in his bed.

“You flatter me, Liam,” said Luciena. “But I believe the young man is just shy around beautiful women,” she declared, apathetic to the shallowness of her vanity.

The space between Michael and Luciena filled with the last of the sovereign’s advisors.

On the marble floor at the top of the stairs, was a podium. Behind it, were the same three chairs that Gilvius used when he presented his twin sons on their sixteenth birthday. Leanna walked across the marble floor and sat in the first chair. After a few moments, Rolam, dressed in similar attire as Gervest had worn—before being magically relocated to the dungeon—passed behind his mother and glanced briefly at Liam and Luciena, before he took his seat on the third chair.

Luciena exuded a seductive smile for the man she believed she had conquered, but when Rolam snubbed her flirtatious gesture, she was puzzled . . . until she observed him more closely. A sickening bile threatened to rise from within her.

“That’s not Gervest,” Luciena whispered to Liam, as she clutched at his arm. “It’s Rolam!”

“Are you sure?” Liam pretended bewilderment of Luciena’s discovery. “They
are
twins, you know.”

Before Luciena could respond further, Gilvius stepped onto the marble floor and walked confidently across the hard stone towards the podium. A few voices in the gathering
gasped
at the sight of Gilvius, but none were more surprised than Samuel. Gilvius looked healthy, and many years younger than when Samuel had last seen him. Samuel looked with astonishment at who he thought was Gervest—seeking some reassurance that Gilvius’s condition was expected. He received no such comfort from Rolam’s steady gaze and bright smile he directed towards his father.

Topen and Loran had been standing near a column—partially obscured in the shadows—ever since Michael and his father first arrived. Michael’s heart sank when he took notice of them. Even from a distance, and cast in shadow, Michael could easily detect the radiance emanating from Loran’s face as she watched Gilvius step to the podium, and even more so when she gazed at Topen at her side.

It was then that Michael knew; even if Gervest forced her into a pairing, he would never have Loran’s love. He resolved that she would never look upon him as she did with those she truly treasured.

The crowd quieted as Gilvius began to speak.

“The title of Sovereign is fleeting,” Gilvius began—his voice forceful and unwavering. Since the days of Rondros, choosing a replacement among the most deserving of his heirs is the final act of the sovereign, and in many ways, the most important one. The sovereign steps down from his reign, but not his responsibility to council his replacement.”

Gilvius glared at Samuel briefly, and he nodded respectfully in return. But Gilvius’s stare left with it an uncomfortable caution in Samuel; he checked the guards for any movement in his direction, but they remained uninterested in him.

“Rumors have flown across the provinces of who will ascend, but as with most rumors, they lack substance without validation,” Gilvius continued. “So, it is with great pleasure and humble pride, I present to you the new Sovereign of the Avileen Empire—Rolam.”

A sense of relief immediately swept through the chamber. Many were so thankful for Gilvius’s choice that they wept through their applause. A very few, who were expecting a reward for their loyalty to Gervest, were stunned and scowled disapprovingly. Although Samuel shared their shock, he did not reveal his disappointment on his face—he was too skilled a manipulator for that. He simply smiled and applauded with the others as Rolam embraced his father and took his place at the podium. Rolam viewed the joyful expressions before him while he waited for the applause to wane. Soon, it was time for him to speak.

“My only wish is that I will never falter as I follow in the wise and compassionate steps of my father, and his before him,” said Rolam. “I must confess, one of the wisest attributes my father ever taught me, was brevity. Therefore, I will not be keeping you here with a long-winded list of what I hope to accomplish as Sovereign. My very first words to you is all the list I need.”

The gathered guests laughed while they applauded Rolam’s directness and commitment to follow Gilvius’s rein.

“Honored guests, I invite you to join me and my family in the dining hall for the great feast our chefs have prepared for you,” Rolam concluded.

A stream of applause continued as Rolam turned back to his parents—who rose to greet him. All three stood facing the assembly, with Rolam standing before the sovereign’s chair in the middle. When all three descended onto their seats, the assembly stood up—and applause filled the chamber once again.

Samuel bolted from the room as soon as he was securely on his feet, but Michael didn’t follow him out. Instead, he walked to Loran where she lingered with Topen. Loran had halted her applause just long enough to wipe a tear from her cheek when she noticed Michael approaching her.