The Defender Page 4

  * * *

  Zezilia

  Accusing eyes and a wave of hatred and confusion followed us out the doors of the dining hall. I wanted to put up a stronger shield around Hadrian, but no amount of energy was going to block out the spite behind us. It helped that Hadrian was leading us down the corridor at a pace that kept me trotting to keep up. The farther we were away from that crowd, the better.

  “Where may I have an hour in private?” Hadrian sent. I was so distracted by the emotion behind us that for a moment I thought he was asking me. Then my brother replied.

  Taking a sharp left, Hadrian flung open the next set of double doors and swept into one of the side rooms off the main corridor. With quick orders from Renato, two defenders took up stations on either side of the doors while the remaining four followed us into the room and closed the doors behind us.

  “Guard the windows from the outside,” Renato ordered. I heard them obey, but I didn’t see them because my attention was taken up with watching Hadrian.

  He had crossed directly to the far wall of the room and sagged against it. His wide shoulders sloped and his head fell forward as though it was too heavy for him to lift. This alone would have concerned me, but the storm of pain, fear, anger, and frustration that warred within him was what tore a cry of help to the Almighty from my heart.

  Almighty, help him. Give me wisdom. What can I do to ease his pain? Please, God, give him peace.

  “Hadrian?” Renato’s panicked query brought Hadrian eyes to him. “You didn’t eat any of the fruit, right? Do you need a healer?” My brother stepped forward into the sept son’s personal space. “What is wrong?”

  Hadrian raised a hand wearily and pushed him back. “I am fine, Renato. Now go fetch Korneli. I have time for him now.”

  “Answer my question first.”

  Hadrian merely shook his head. “No, I didn’t eat. I am not going to die, Renato. At least, not at this moment. Now go.”

  Nodding, Renato turned to me. “Come. Korneli is…”

  “No, she stays here.” Both of us turned to regard the sept son. Hadrian had not moved.

  “But, Master, you said I was to never leave you and her alone.”

  “Send in Plantonio when you leave. He will act as witness. Now go get Korneli before I throw you out.”

  “Yes, Master.” Executing a sharp salute, he walked toward the door, sending me a warning look as he passed.

  Hadrian did not move as Plantonio appeared, saluted, and then took station near the door. I watched Hadrian carefully, monitoring the emotions that kept flaring from him. Without the life of his dark eyes, his face appeared years older than I knew him to be. Feathered lines radiated from his closed eyes and deep crevices bracketed his mouth. The dark circles under his eyes spoke of hours of lost sleep. A flare of anger distracted me from his face for a moment as I stepped back from the intensity. His eyes flew open and immediately focused on my face.

  “How did you know?” he asked. Slowly lifting his head and straightening, he crossed to the nearest chair and sank into it.

  “Pardon?”

  “How did you know it was poisoned?”

  “He intended to kill you.”

  “But how did you know? Did you read his thoughts?”

  Fear flooded through me. The servant hadn’t been a Talent. To read his thoughts would be worthy of grave punishment. “No, he was projecting the emotions of a man afraid of getting caught. When I saw him exchange the dishes, I knew why.”

  He closed his eyes and laid his head against the chair back. Pain washed over me as his forehead tightened.

  “Headache?” I asked before thinking.

  He smiled bitterly. “The cost of stress and tension.”

  “Where does it hurt?”

  He sighed wearily. “Are you sure you want details?” He opened one dark brown eye and squinted at me.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Hadrian closed his eye. “Yes. Come and sit in the chair across from me, so I don’t have to keep looking up at you.”

  I quickly moved to obey, carefully stepping over his sprawled legs to reach the chair. “Does this often happen, Sept Son?”

  “What?” He lifted a hand to massage his forehead. “The headaches?”

  “No, the attempts on your life.”

  “More often than I would like. I haven’t had this close a brush in a while.”

  “Who wants you dead?”

  He looked at me from beneath the shade of his hand. “The better question is who doesn’t want me dead, Zez. The mesitas, half the kings, and most of the worshipers of the goddess wish me out of the picture permanently.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I knew without a doubt that my father was one of the group that wished Hadrian ill. What words does one offer a man who has recently faced death?

  “I don’t hold it against you, Zez. Your father’s position has not affected my trust in you or Renato. In fact, Renato’s closeness to me has limited some of the attacks because Ilar doesn’t want to harm his son.” He paused for a few moments. “I am sorry to bring you into the midst of this. This isn’t the place for you.”

  I shook my head. He was wrong. “This is where I am supposed to be. If I hadn’t been here, the Almighty wouldn’t have used me to prevent your death.” I shuddered slightly at the thought. “I am the most qualified in many ways, and you are going to teach me so that I can grow even more skilled. He has a purpose for me here.”

  He laughed softly. “I can’t argue with that. His purpose is the only thing that keeps me here. Though, I fear at times, Zez, that I am not going to survive this. Each time I face my mortality, I wonder what the Almighty has in store. All it would take is one moment when He decides not to show me grace and stop the assassin’s hand. One time and all I have worked for would be gone.”

  “He has promised that what He has purposed will come to pass.” I quoted one of my favorite passages of the Revelation to him. “I shall pray that He will continue to spare you.”

  Lowering his hand, Hadrian looked at me and smiled slowly. “Thank you, Zez. Your prayers will guard my soul while your Talent will guard my body. I will do the same for you and, Almighty willing, we shall survive. If not, at least we shall be at peace.” Then he quoted another favorite passage of mine. It spoke of the instantaneous transformation at death when a believer steps from his own body into the presence of the Almighty.

  A knock on the outer door interrupted us. Before my eyes, Hadrian’s appearance transformed. Straightening his shoulders and righting his posture, he rose from the chair in one smooth movement. Pain and fatigue washed from his face as he composed it into a mask of calm indifference. He straightened his tunic and checked the drape of his vestus before signaling Plantonio to answer it.

  “Ready?” he asked. Despite the mask, I could still see the pain lingering at the back of his eyes. How I wished I could wipe it away for him.

  “With the Almighty on our side, we are.”

  He smiled slowly, and a warm feeling flooded my chest. “You do me more good than you know, Zez.”

  “Master Korneli and Trainee Pewlin to see you, Sept Son,” Renato announced as he preceded the two newcomers into the room.

  Korneli had not changed since I had last seen him. Tall and dark, he matched Hadrian in height and coloring. Both men were well built and obviously active, but Korneli’s classic good looks made the difference obvious. Though I knew the men to be about the same age, Hadrian’s silver-dusted temples and lined face hinted at a life longer in experiences than his friend’s. Although Korneli’s features were more pleasing to the eye, I found myself thinking that I liked Hadrian’s weathered face better. Perhaps it was the wisdom that had traced the extra lines or the feeling his slow smile had created within me, but I felt drawn to watch him.

  “You look awful,” Korneli declared, crossing the room to clasp Hadrian in a rough hug.

  “As do you,” Hadrian replied.

  “What? Somehow I do not
believe that.” Korneli stepped back and scrutinized Hadrian’s face. “You are pushing yourself too hard. You must slow down.”

  “You are not being very encouraging. I have only been here a few hours, and you are already counseling me to leave. You know just as well that I cannot.”

  Korneli frowned and shook his head. “Still, I wish you would slow some.”

  “I cannot. A war is upon us, and we must be ready.”

  “If we are not ready now, we are never going to be ready. I bring news from the west. Thrasius Parzifal and two of his closest men within the Elitist community disappeared from the compound a week ago. It took a few days, but their trail was picked up heading northeast across the country.”

  “Do we know where they are headed?” Hadrian began to pace.

  “No, we cannot determine that, but word will be sent as soon as their destination is known.”

  “And the community within the compound does nothing?”

  “They continue with their daily life with no changes. The children’s training…” Korneli hesitated.

  “Yes, what do we know of their abilities?” Turning to watch Korneli’s face, Hadrian frowned.

  “The oldest is demonstrating three times the ability of any trainee we know of that is twice his age.”

  Closing his eyes, Hadrian sighed. “Then our fears are true.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does anyone know about this?”

  “You and the men observing the compound are the only ones.”

  “Good. See that this doesn’t become known to the kings. If it does, they are going to push for the annihilation of the compound and everyone within it.”

  “They might push for that anyway,” Renato interjected. “I have heard rumors of that nature.”

  “So, what will you do if they order you to do it?” Korneli asked.

  Hadrian turned away to face the windows where the afternoon sun was beginning to filter through the ivy. “Pray that it doesn’t come to that, Korneli.”

  “Sept Son?” A defender entered the room and saluted. “We have received word that the council is forming, Master. Your presence is requested.”

  Bowing his head, Hadrian didn’t respond. Renato acknowledged the defender’s announcement with reassurances that the sept son would arrive shortly.

  “What do you think of all this?” Eldivo asked. I jumped slightly at his voice. I hadn’t realized he had moved so close. He watched Korneli speaking with Hadrian in low tones. “I think the sept son should do something soon. The Elitists are getting out of control and need to be subdued before they can do more damage.”

  Memories of my studies flooded my mind. “So, you condone execution?” I asked. “That is what happened last time. Every man, woman, and child down to the smallest infant were executed. It is a blemish in the history of this nation, and if the sept son is trying to not repeat that catastrophe, I am with him.”

  “I don’t want that.” His pale brown eyes pleaded for me to understand. “Surely, you know I didn’t mean that.” He turned back to observe the two men praying at the far end of the room. “But, you do have to admit something has to be done.”

  From my brief stay in the sept son’s entourage and camp, I knew Hadrian was doing something like rallying support, gathering information, and making preparations. If Korneli’s student was in the dark about the procedures, I didn’t feel comfortable about enlightening him. Korneli would have a reason. Instead, I asked, “Why are you so sure he isn’t doing something already?”

  Before Eldivo could reply, Renato called in the defenders and motioned me over to be briefed on my part in the ceremonies to come. I excused myself and obeyed. Within moments, we were marching out the double doors and into the corridor.

  Almighty, this is all beyond me, Father. Please give the sept son wisdom and strength for the task ahead. Let me see how I may help him. Let me see my purpose here.

  * * *

  Chapter IV

  Zezilia

  Early afternoon sunlight flooded through the latticed windows onto the polished, hardwood floor of the high king’s council chambers. It splayed a golden pattern across the heavy brocaded array of royal standards along the left-hand wall. The high king’s throne stood on the far end of the room, silent and empty. Six smaller thrones marched along the length of the room, three to a side. On each sat a king with his heir to his right and eight underlings hovering about them both.

  I tried to keep my face impassive as we paraded into the room, but my eyes were drawn to the sweeping arches above our heads. Gilt trim outlined textured ceilings of blinding white above rose-colored walls. The high ceilings offered perfect acoustics for a council room. Every voice sounded clearly. Over the steady tread of Hadrian and Renato’s footfalls, a host of voices resonated in all the corners of room.

  The great doors closed behind us with a soft thud, and all eyes turned to regard Hadrian. Silence fell like a heavy fog, and a ponderous wave of emotion thundered toward us. Hatred and anger overwhelmed the thin thread of welcome. I instinctively checked my defenses about Hadrian. I felt him flinch.

  As I scanned the kings and their sons, my eyes were drawn to my father and my eldest brother, Jan. Both of their eyes locked on Hadrian. The hatred in my father’s gaze made my heart ache. How did he become so poisoned against him, Almighty?

  Hadrian ignored the hostile looks and performed an elaborate salute. Then, taking his own place on the throne at the near end of the hall, he straightened his vetus. I watched as he lowered his eyes and composed his face. Although from his external appearance one would think he was peacefully awaiting the high king’s arrival, I could sense differently. Watching the rise and fall of his internal struggle, I reached out to the Almighty on his behalf.

  With great fanfare, the great doors behind us opened. All rose and turned to face the opening. A gaudily uniformed herald appeared.

  “Hail the High King of Pratinus and overseer of the six kings who rule over her provinces.”

  The kings lifted their right hands and pressed them palm first to their left shoulders. With bowed heads, they waited for the high king to appear. Their servants and sons did likewise. Glancing over at Hadrian and Renato, I was surprised that neither of them saluted. In fact, none of the sept son’s party saluted.

  Just as I was about to ask Hadrian why, I found him watching my face; there was understanding in his eyes despite his impassive features.

  “You have a question?”

  “How did you know?”

  A smile tugged at his mouth, but it was quickly subdued as he turned away to greet the high king.

  High King Deucalion Marcellus approached Hadrian as the first stop on his long parade to his throne. The men exchanged a warm greeting. After only a brief moment, Marcellus moved on down the hall to greet the first of the lower kings. Hadrian’s rich taste flooded my mouth.

  “I am picking up on your emotions and inclinations. It is strange, but I knew you were wondering about something.”

  “I have been tuned to all your emotions clearly since I joined your escort. Can you read anyone else’s emotions?”

  “Snatches here and there, if the feeling is strong.”

  “All the time. Remember, Errol explained.”

  Hadrian’s thoughts wandered from the sending for a moment to watch the high king greet King Sabine. They stiffly bowed to each other and exchanged clipped and murmured pleasantries. The tension between the men hung like a tangible curtain.

  “So what did you want to ask?” Hadrian suddenly sent as the high king moved on to the next in line.

  It took me a minute to recall what had triggered my interest. Then, it came. “Why did our party not show subjection to the high king when his arrival was announced?”

  “The reason goes back to the beginning of the office of sept son. Do you recall the sept son’s primary purpose?”

  “To oversee the Talented citizens of Pratinus.”

  “And to act as a counter balance to the high kin
g and kings. The original founders of the government were afraid that a high king would try to change the rules of ascension and attempt to hold his family permanently higher than the others. There were also concerns of prejudices forming against or for the Talented citizens. My role as sept son is to prevent that from happening. I have the right to raise an army of Talents for any purpose in defense of the realm and the safety of the people within it.”

  “My fellow kings.” The high king’s voice echoed through the room, calling all attention to himself. “Yet again we meet before the goddess in the weighty duty of leading this nation in time of peace or crisis. Come forward, my brothers, and tell me of the health of our realm.”

  King Adrasteia stepped forward and recognized his oldest son, Estes, as the one to read the presentation. Estes, a man now fully grown and father of three sons of his own, stepped forward and read from a scroll so that the whole council could hear. I remembered him as a serious child with patience for my constant questions. Now, as his deep bass voice vibrated around us, I couldn’t help wondering if he was still as long-tempered and kind.

  “He is one of our best Trainers,” Hadrian offered. “He seems to always have infinite amounts of patience for the most trying student.”

  “I remember him as much the same.”

  “Ah, I keep forgetting that you grew up among them.”

  “Yes, he, Jan, and Clovis would study their lessons together. He was always willing to kindly answer my questions, and I had plenty of questions then.”

  “And you don’t now?” His amusement made me smile.

  “Thank you for humoring me.”

  “It isn’t that at all. Your questions and perspective are very refreshing. Please don’t stop asking.”

  Suddenly, I was aware of a new presence on the perimeter of my thoughts. Dropping my connection with Hadrian, I began erecting the barriers that Selwyn had taught me, working from my angulus, the center of my consciousness, outward.