sun had past its highest point in the sky, the men sat and talked as they anxiously awaited for the arrival of the king of Hyrendell in order to commence.
Mriori, the youngest member of the Consul, pushed himself from his high-backed mahogany chair and paced across the chamber’s burgundy carpeting to a pitcher of fresh water that sat upon a great Earthstone desk near the back wall. After stepping up onto the small dais and pouring himself a glass, Mriori glanced through the colored windows at the sparkling sea. He sipped his water, thinking about how arrogant the ocean could be, before returning to his chair.
Amicus, the tallest of the council, dismissed himself from a conversation with Erinol, and caught the attention of Lotharius, who was sitting in one of the three chairs adjacent himself. With a glare of consternation contorting his creased face, he stared into the dark eyes of the king’s Steward for only a brief moment, in an attempt to boost his own confidence. Lotharius, however, met the councilman’s tenacious gaze with a superior glare of his own.
Quickly, as if to banish any notion of inferiority, Amicus broke up the Consul’s mumbling, “my Steward, what news of this plan against the kingdom do you have? Surely, the king will be with us in due time, but until then, can we not at least hear a portion of the dealings against us?”
“Yes, Lotharius,” spat Grachus, the plumpest of the Consul members. He stroked lightly his aged, wiry grey beard to sooth his bubbling impatience. “We’ve been sitting here for half the day already, and yet the council remains inactive. Tell us of what is so important, or I shall rid myself of this useless session and enjoy the finer things in life!” A crooked smile split his face, folding his russet eyes into slits as he thought about the maiden he’d woken up to that morning. But his fantasy was shattered when Lotharius jumped from his chair, knocking it backward.
“You’ll stay where your overstuffed posterior is planted!” Lotharius commanded. His eyes glistered with rage against Grachus’ fuming temper as he swiveled his head around to glare into the maddened eyes of all the Consul members. “And that goes for the rest of you as well. The king and I have learned of an important discovery against the kingdom, and you’ll do well to be patient, or I’ll have you all quartered as soon as you step outside the those doors,” he huffed, pointing to the giant oaken doors framing the entrance to the chamber.
And as Lotharius lowered his hand and relaxed his tightened back, those same chamber doors were shoved open to reveal the tired, petulant ruler of Hyrendell. Without hesitating, King Nielius marched to the dais and slid into the oak chair behind the chamber desk. After a few refreshing gulps of water, he took a moment to breath in the fresh air blowing in from the sea.
Once settled into his own chair, Lotharius watched his king brace himself against the stone desk. The man looked exhausted, and for the first time, Lotharius noticed the years chiseled into Nielius’ face. His age was catching up to him and he had yet to produce an heir. Perhaps he had a chance this morning to try with one of his maidens. Maybe that was the reason for his fatigue…
“The time for change has come,” the king proclaimed. Hands against the desk, he panned his eyes across the two rows of chairs inside the chamber, catching the stares of all six members. “Last night, Lotharius and I were told a prophecy about an ancient king who would return to claim Hyrendell. It was said that the Legend who once was will arise again.”
The Consul’s silence deadened the chamber. Nielius continued, “after thoroughly researching Hyrendell’s history, we’ve learned that the old king the prophecy speaks of is Eaodan McCloud from long ago, the one the people referred to as the Legend.”
Septus, the middle-aged economic advisor to the king, spoke first. “my Lord, how can a dead king return?”
“We’ve thought of this already, Septus, thank you,” Nielius snipped. “Now, since no known magick can bring back the dead, I’ve concluded that it must be his ancestral namesake that would revive his legacy. Someone from the McCloud clan will rise against the kingdom, rise against ME,” he yelled, his rage echoing around the stone walls, “to overthrow our way of life!” Suddenly, Nielius slammed his fists against the desk,.
The six members of the privy council pulled their gaze from his anger. They’d seen their king furious countless times before, but this time was different. This time, Nielius’ voice aired something mysterious, something they had never before heard that shaped the tone of his fury.
“I remember that name,” Mriori began, “I remember hearing about McCloud’s reign. The people loved him, the kingdom prospered. But, if I remember correctly, he never had any heir to the throne. Even his queen had died shortly after his demise without bearing any offspring. How, my king, could McCloud’s lineage be revived?”
“If you had bothered to glance at the kingdom’s registry every once in a while, you’d have seen that there are McCloud’s living within Hyrendell. The surname was revived decades after my ancestors had secured the crown. Unfortunately, those old fools had no idea that name would come back to haunt them.”
Erinol, the thin, pale genius of the Consul tried to comfort his king, “m… my Lord, this travesty will not prevail, of course. What do you have planned?”
Leaning against his desk, the king glanced toward his Steward; Lotharius nodded slightly, encouraging his Lord onward. “We find them all, and we kill them.”
Nielius glared at his Consul, waiting for their objections. However, none came. In fact, to his surprise, the five remaining members looked somewhat pleased with the idea.
“You wish to hunt down the entire McCloud bloodline and exterminate it?” Mriori asked with as subtle an inquisitiveness as he could muster. He thought it best not to disturb a raging king.
“Yes, I do,” Nielius calmly answered, “this is the Decree of Purification that I announce commencing hence forth: anyone pulsing with the blood of any McCloud ancestry will be considered a threat to the entire kingdom and eliminated at once. Age and gender are no exception to the decree, as anyone can be a threat. Along with direct descendants, indirect descendants will also be considered a threat and dealt with accordingly. Cooperatives of the conspiratorial McClouds are no exception as well. Death is to be administered by public execution, and all citizens of Hyrendell are commanded to attended. Anyone who fails to attend the executions will be considered in allegiance with the conspirators and will be dealt with accordingly.” The king glanced over the eyes of his privy council. “Any questions?”
Everyone held their breath as the words seeped into their thoughts. A kingdom-wide extermination of all traitors? No more conspirators against the crown? Erinol had just finished scribbling down the decree onto a roll of parchment when Amicus stood up and began to applaud. And within seconds, all of the Consul members stood to cheer for the magnificence of their ruler, the brilliance of their king.
“Enact the Decree at once!”
4. Madness
The Forgotten Sea was calm that day, gently lapping at the sides of Lythina’s dinghy as she rowed out toward the open ocean. The sun was glowing high in the western sky, allowing her to soak up its warmth before she would eventually descend into the impenetrable fog that gave the sea its name. Every now and then she would turn to glance at the fog, adjusting her course as necessary until she was heading perpendicular to the coast, straight on toward the misty wall.
The fog was far enough from land that Lythina had time to reflect upon the past two days before she would have to concentrate solely upon her direction. A sudden rush of warmth coursed through her body as she remembered what it felt like to wake up the next morning after learning about her parents and meeting a relative
