Flight of the Princeling Ch. 01

Everyone was gathered when Avir and Naru reached the throne room. Avir looked over them with a critical eye. Avir's father had never been a terribly talented man. He'd managed to get himself killed in battle with the orc tribes to the north before he could ever give the Madzar clan another child, let alone another son. His only redeemable quality had been marrying well, which had been, unfortunately for his reputation, largely the creation of the Riva's court. All in all, he'd been nothing but a prince in a city full to bursting with Madzar Ethelings, which meant he'd left his son with a mountain of relations better positioned to seize the throne when the Riva was finally called up to take his place among the gods.

Nothing Avir had ever done had impressed the Riva. He'd tried his best to get his grandfather's permission to at least join the army that the Crown Prince was leading, and been rebuffed, and not politely, either.

"Avir," said a voice behind him.

"Makir!" he said. His cousin Makir was a likable enough man. Not ambitious enough, in Avir's opinion. Though he too was an Etheling of the Madzar clan (one with an even more direct line back to the Madzar himself, though Avir would never admit it to anyone but himself), Makir contented himself with studying history and playing haklil. Avir had played against him a few times and found Makir's strategies to be cunning and intricate, moving stones for seemingly no purpose at all except to force Avir to respond until finally Avir had been walled in.

He no longer played haklil with Makir, but he'd remained friendly with him all the same.

"I thought the Emperor had made you governor of Thorkos," he said.

"I was," agreed Makir. "Now I am not."

"Term up?" asked Avir. He searched his memory. "It doesn't seem like it's been two years."

"No, not at all," said Makir. "The Riva simply felt I was less harmful to his future here in Kalassas."

He sighed.

"Actually, Avir, since you ask, and since you've always been kind to me, I will tell you the truth—the Crown Prince had me stripped of my post."

"What happened?" asked Avir.

"I did not bribe his agents," said Makir.

"The Riva would not strip you of your position for that," said Avir. "Your father was his most favorite grandnephew."

"The Crown Prince contrived for a new set of books for Thorkos to appear in the archives," said Makir. "My yearly production was shown to be half what previous years were. I was accused of embezzling funds from the imperial accounts. Naturally, they had no clear evidence to convict me at the tribunal, and I had no clear evidence with which to indict the Crown Prince, and so, in the wash, I lost my post and the Crown Prince found a man who would make bribes."

"They assembled a tribunal?" asked Avir. An Etheling could only be tried by members of the Madzar clan. "I'm certain I would have heard of such a thing."

"Not everything reaches into the harem, Avir," said Makir, grinning.

"I'm not always engaged with the harem."

"Had any visitors today?" asked Makir. He turned to Naru. "Has he indulged himself today?"

"He was, twice over, when I went to get him," said Naru, stone faced. Her eyes were laughing though. Avir shuffled and frowned.

"You're making fun of me," he said.

"I am," agreed Makir.

"This is important and you're distracting me from the court," said Avir. Makir snorted, but Avir continued on. "Can you imagine? The rebel thinks to parlay!"

"The Riva's granted the audience. Passar has gathered too much strength in the east to be cleanly defeated even if the Crown Prince is victorious in the field," said Makir. "Better to finish it with words if possible."

"The Riva should've given me command," said Avir. "I would have taken Thrain back in fifty days."

"What battles have you won that were not on a drawing board, cousin?" chuckled Makir.

Avir said nothing again, pushing his way forward a little, craning over the courtiers to see what was going on. He wondered if the Riva even knew he was here. It would have been easy to just wait in his chambers. He glanced back at Naru. She was loyal to the Madzar clan to a fault, in his opinion. The Riva had never even met her—she'd been hired by Avir's father to train Avir in the martial arts from their own household coffers. Even when his father had died, she'd stayed on, out of loyalty to him, Avir supposed. He'd never questioned it, it occurred to him. It'd just been something he'd expected from her and she'd risen to meet the expectation.

He wondered why that was.

The doors to the throne room thundered open, and an elf riding on a massive desert elk entered. Both beast and rider were covered with armor etched in runes. The elf wore the distinctive conical helmet of the eastern provinces, but over his face was a steel mask of a mustachioed demon scowling, its mouth open and its teeth jagged, two long tusks made of real ivory sticking out. He rode to the bottom of the dais, just out of reach, then took off his helmet. Avir was astounded to see his skin was black as coal, his hair a dark red, the color of dried blood. His face was covered with blue warpaint, in the shape of a handprint.

"Who is that?" asked Avir. He'd never seen an elf before. As a rule, the Riva Emperor prevented them from serving in any serious capacity in the empire.

"Jaan Umir," hissed Naru. She tapped him to be quiet.

"I know that name," said Avir. "He's that rebel, isn't he? From the army?"

"Yes," muttered Makir.

"Well, he's quite the fool to come here alone," said Avir. "A deserter in the Riva's court. He'll be dead in five minutes."

"Or he has a reason to appear the fool," said Makir.

"Umir! How dare you trouble me with the sight of you!" thundered the Riva, although Avir noted that his grandfather kept his seat on his cushioned dais. "Begone!"

"No, your highness. I bring word from the new Emperor, the Sile Emperor."

"The Sile Emperor? The Sile Emperor? Is that what Passar is calling himself? And you indulge him in his little fantasy?"

"I recognize the true Emperor."

"When Passar rose up in rebellion in Thrain, I thought, it's only Thrain—a blow to our ability to keep the clans from the steppe at bay, but now they are Passar's problem. If I had had one inkling of what the man would become, that he would align himself with filthy Abraykar elves like you, that he would name himself as Emperor, I would've marched the legions to Thrain as fast as they would go."

"And perhaps it might have saved you, O Fallen Emperor," said the elf.

"I need no saving!" snarled the Riva. "The Crown Prince is still in the field. And Captain Mektal is coming from the south. Your 'Sile Emperor' will be crushed beneath hammer and anvil, Jaan Umir."

The elf said nothing, only dismounting from his elk. On the back of his saddle was a bundle swaddled in cloth. Umir untied the bundle from his saddle and began to climb the dais.

"I did not give you permission to approach me!" warned the Riva.

"I do not ask it. I do not need it—you are no chosen of the gods, you're just a man," said Umir. He climbed until his head was level with the Riva's feet, then lifted the bundle over his head, holding it up, bowing slightly.

To Avir's surprise, the Riva leaned forward and accepted it. Umir slipped back down the stairs, remounting his elk.

There was a high-pitched scream, a wail of anguish, and even Naru jumped at it. Everyone but Jaan Umir turned to look at the Riva.

The Emperor was holding a severed human head, the mouth open and shocked, the complexion grey and drained. And, yet, Avir would have recognized that beard, those ears, and most especially the circlet that sat on the head's temples. The circlet that he had coveted for so long.

The circlet of the Crown Prince.

"The Sile Emperor has done this," said Jaan Umir. "The Sile Emperor gives you this choice: surrender yourself, your city, your people, and kneel and swear fealty to him, the one you used to know as Passar Ressan but will now call the Sile, as Captain Mektal did when we defeated the Crown Prince two days ago, and the Sile Emperor will be merciful and kind—he will take your life only. He will send you to the gods as a full Emperor, and they shall receive you in the glory due to you. Or resist and face the same death your heir faced—your body headless and unrecognizable by even the Nameless Gods of the Void. And every Etheling in your clan will follow in kind. We will mark the miles by the heads of Madzar princes."

"You...you...you elven cur," spat the Riva. He put the Crown Prince's head down and tried to rise to his feet, a struggle that took him half a moment. "I am the Emperor. Passar is nothing. You...all Abraykar are nothing. I will not kneel to nothing."

"Then nothing is what you shall become," said Umir. "The Sile is already here. We marched when Captain Mektal joined his strength to ours. I persuaded my Emperor that taking the capital without a fight would be best, if it could be done. We will have nothing lost in the attempt."

"You will be lost! Guards!" screamed the Emperor.

"There is no one coming, Riva," said Jaan Umir. "Your best soldiers died with the Crown Prince or have joined sides with the Sile. The rest will not die for you."

He stared around the room, and when his gaze fell on Avir, the prince felt a chill run down his spine.

"The Madzars are over!" shouted Umir. "Your Emperor has made it so. We will slaughter you like dogs, butcher you like pigs. Your Emperor would not save you out of his pride, so out of pride you will all perish. As for those of you who are not Madzars, then be aware. When the sun rises, this city—this empire—will be ruled by the Ressan clan! You may have heard of Passar Ressan! That man is dead. Only the Sile Emperor is left, made new flesh from the old by the gods themselves! You would do well to remember."

He twirled his elk in a circle, looking at all the gathered courtiers.

"Get out of my court!" screamed the Riva, his voice breaking with rage.

Jaan Umir smiled, the sheer white of his teeth offset by the midnight black of his lips.

"You threw me out of your army, Riva," he said. "No Abraykar in the upper ranks. No Abraykar among the great captains. But you cannot throw me out of your court. I can, however, take your court away from you."

The elf looked out at the crowd of courtiers again.

"You've seen the head of the Crown Prince. You must know now that I speak only the truth. The Sile Emperor is coming. Today is the Riva's last day! Your master is impotent, but my master is strong. Where your master is vain and foolish, my master is wise and merciful. Bring him the heads of the sons of Madzar. Bring him the heads of every Madzar Etheling in this city, in the entire realm. Any man with a Madzar head will gain lands and title. We've conquered much of the eastern provinces, among people still foolish enough to show the Riva loyalty. Captain Mektar has sworn his sword to the Sile; no army is coming to save you. When Kalassas falls, we'll control the entire empire. The Sile does not forget. The Sile remembers those who were quick to join him. The Sile will remember those who hesitate, and those who oppose his rule. I shall return tomorrow, at dawn, leading the Sile's army. We expect to see Madzar heads. If we do not...it shall be your heads instead."

Jaan Umir twirled his mount around, though there were no reins or harness or saddle on the elk that Avir could see, the man exiting through the open doors of the court.

There was a long silence in the courtroom, broken only by the quiet sobs of Avir's grandfather on the dais, considering the Crown Prince's head.

The reverie was shattered by a blood-curdling scream, and Avir looked up to see one of his cousins—Fadril, perhaps? Avir could never remember his name—stumble into the center of the courtroom, blood gushing from a wound in his neck. The man fell to his knees on the carpet, crawling forward. His assailant, evident from the dark red stain on his bared knife, stepped out of the crowd after him, slashing and stabbing wildly at the Madzar man's back.

Naru spun on her heel and pushed Avir back into the crowd.

"Run!" she commanded.

"Where?" asked Avir.

"To your apartments. I will follow! Run!"

Over her shoulder, the assailant pulled up Avir's cousin's head by the hair, baring his neck, then cutting along the exposed skin. Avir could hear the Riva shouting, in rage and fear. The crowd was moving, pulsing, and when he glanced to the side, he could see that some of his fellow Madzars were struggling with courtiers, while others were dying, either being cut or even torn apart by the frenzied mob.

"Run!" said Naru.

Avir ran.

He slipped by a man who saw him, making a desperate grab for Avir's robes. Naru was behind him, and her saber slashed across the man's fingers, separating them from his hand. When he rose up screaming, Naru cut him down, then pushed Avir forward. He'd lost sight of Makir, but Naru simply shoved him onward when he made an attempt to stop and search for his cousin. They ran along the edge of the court until Avir found the side door, pulling it open, escaping the pandemonium of the court.

"They turned on us!" he shouted. "How could they turn on us?"

"Run!" answered Naru.

She shoved him roughly, and he tumbled forward, his legs moving unsteadily as he began to run. Behind him, Naru seized a decorative polearm and forced it through the door handles, blocking the exit of anyone looking to pursue. Or any of the Madzar clan who wished to escape, Avir thought darkly.

"Run!" screamed Naru again, her hand pressing into his back, pushing him forward faster. He gave a shout and went tumbling forward, his body moving faster than his feet could carry him, so that he lost his footing and went skidding roughly across the polished floors of the Riva's palace.

And then Naru was hauling him back to his feet, her hand gripping his arm as his heart pounded in his ears. She said something to him, but he couldn't make it out. He looked down at her in confusion as she mouthed the words to him again.

"Avir, wake up."