Page 30 of The Last Knight

Joc swallowed the food in his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand. “You proposed a joining of the realms upon your visit to our ruler. With that in mind, we come to offer something along the lines of an alliance if you assist us in trouncing the unworthy male who sits upon our throne.”

“What type of assistance?” Rondo asked. “Why would we help you?” Something akin to disgust dripped from the statement.

Kel huffed. “We are here as a result of your brother’s visit. Gunther has no plans for any kind of a pact between our realms.” He turned his attention to Indros. “Is part of your plan to eventually overtake both realms?”

The direct question seemed to take Indros by surprise as he hesitated, a goblet halfway to his mouth. He gave a one shouldered shrug, drank from the cup and placed it back on the tray. “The thought has crossed my mind. Although I must admit noticing how very dreary and dank the realm is. I am not sure there is anything to gain from the Dark Realm.”

But on the land beyond there was much to gain. The lighter realms beyond were rich with minerals, jewels and lush lands. It was those realms that Indros sought to take over. Other than to add Torants into his army, the Dark Realm would provide the bridge between the Yorian and the more desirable realms.

The thought of Indros taking over the army made Joc hesitate. If he was to do this right, he would have to ensure to keep power over the Dark Realm and the forces within. Killing Gunther would mean the dominant dark powers would fill him and, with that, he could easily defend the realm. The darkness was powerful and stronger than any other magic in the lands. What an idiot Gunther was not to allow it free rein. And yet, it was that reluctance that would be his downfall and prove fortunate for Joc.

Indros waved the servants with trays away. “Send in the scribe,” he said to a nearby guard. “Where is she by the way?”

The guard looked to Sundi, who shrugged. “She died.”

Indros laughed and spoke to the generals. “My wife is quite possessive. I do have to spend long private times with a scribe.” He turned to Sundi. “I will indulge you this once, but no more. Having a scribe for a longer period ensures proper records are kept. As it is, no one wishes for the post. Whether male or female, you have found ways to…er remove them.”

Sundi didn’t seem at all bothered by the chastisement, instead, she looked toward the entrance as an older male was ushered in.

The male didn’t seem intimidated. He walked directly to the throne, bowed first to Indros, then secondly to Sundi. “I am called Basdin, your highness,” he stated in a clear voice.

Sundi’s smile reached her eyes. “Basdin! I have not seen you in years. How clever they are to appoint you as scribe.” She clapped and beamed at Indros. “Basdin is my cousin and childhood confidant.”

Basdin looked much older than Sundi, so Joc surmised the female had used magic to retain her youthful appearance.

The new scribe went to stand at a chair behind a small table and waited to be instructed to sit.

Indros indicated for the male to sit and then turned his attention back to the generals. “The Torants are here on behalf of the Dark Realm. They request our assistance in overthrowing their ruler and becoming the rulers themselves.” Indros hesitated, studying both Joc and Kel.

“Although I suspect one will kill the other to gain ultimate control.”

Joc’s heart hammered in his chest. Of course, why had he not guarded his thoughts? Indros could read minds. Instead of reacting he shook his head as if thinking the claim ridiculous and looked to Kel. “Do you plan to kill me then?”

At Kel’s flat gaze, he wasn’t sure what to think. Instead, he spoke to Indros. “There is no reason why Kel and I cannot share overseeing the Dark Realm. Of course, whomever delivers the killing blow will absorb Gunther’s powers. But then the other will assume the role of chief council. Absolute power over the army.”

“As you say,” Indros replied and returned his attention to the scribe. “Add General Joc’s comments to the scroll.”

The ruler rose from the throne, his robes flowing behind him as he paced across the room like a wolf circling prey. “Let’s hear it. I have my own designs, but I’m curious what sort of treachery you’d suggest first.”

“We need you as a distraction,” came Joc’s cold reply. “Gunther still expects your return. His attention, and his power, will be fixed on you and your guards. That gives one of us the perfect opportunity to strike. Once he’s dead, we honor the agreement of a safe passage through the Dark Realm to wherever it is you truly want to go. But not our realm, that will remain ours.”

Indros gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head, the barest hint of a sneer curling his lip. “We have no interest in your cursed realm. It’s Esland we want. The nether border has proven…inconvenient. You lot can keep your shadows and rotting soil.”

Kel narrowed his eyes, heat sparking behind them. The insult wasn’t subtle. “No one breaks through Esland’s defenses. Not even with your large number of warriors, and certainly not with your lumbering beasts.”

A flicker of amusement crossed Indros’ face. “Yes, yes. The mighty dragons of Esland. Breathing fire and noble nonsense. Spare me your opinions. I only need a crack in the wall; something your realm’s endless mists have thus far denied me.”

Joc leaned forward, his voice low and hard. “Even if we permit you through our borders, the mists bordering Esland devour anyone who enters. Magic fails. Men vanish. You wouldn’t last a suns rise.”

Indros waved a hand dismissively, as if already bored with the discussion. “There’s another way. A less…sanctioned path, which cuts through a sliver of the Sisters’ realm. But that’s my concern, not yours,” he said referring to Atlandia.

He met both Kel and Joc’s eyes head-on, his voice laced with mockery. “Just play your part, generals. Be a martyr, or a victor, whichever suits you best. I don’t care, as long as Gunther dies.”

Prince Stirling’s sisters Esmeralda and Rubiana ruled over the largest realm, Atlandia, an area that was as beautiful as it was deadly. During the cold season, a storm called ‘the icing’ struck daily across most of it. Only wolf sentinels and shifters native to the realm could survive the onslaught of the cutting ice that fell from the skies and the frigid temperatures.

Both Joc and Kel expected that Indros was not interested in their realm because of the icing, Yorian warriors could not survive it.

In a way, Atlandia could be considered a wasteland, if not for the fact that every day the land thrived, as the icing did not kill native flora or animals.

To Torants, the Dark Realm was filled with treasures of magic, of creatures and landscapes that existed nowhere else. It was the homeland of their species and although not beautiful it was where all Torants were born and hoped to die.

“I will visit at the passing of the allotted time. Whether your plan is successful or not is to be seen.” Indros walked toward a set of windows, his back to them.

Joc and Kel stood, at the signaling the meeting had come to an end.