Obsidian Ridge

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The sun rose on a new day in Erlkazar. A westerly wind blew in from the water, lifting the morning fog and gently rustling the grass and leaves. At any other time, this would have been a beautiful spring day. Visitors from other lands would have seen children playing in the foothills, farmers coaxing their crops from the soil, and a community of people who worked and lived together in harmony.

But not today.

On this day, the sun's rays were somehow absorbed by the empty hopeless blackness that was the Obsidian Ridge. The children, those who hadn't been evacuated, were locked tightly inside their homes, cowering behind barred doors with their huddled families. The roads were all but bare, occupied by only the bravest and the most foolhardy. And the wind had nothing to rustle.

The first rays of dawn had brought with them what seemed a plague. The crops, once sprouting with the hope of a fine harvest were turned gray and lifeless. Their budding blossoms had withered and died. The first signs of flowers and fruit had decayed on the vine, transforming into little more than dried out husks.

Xeries had done what he'd promised.

"This is an outage," fumed Lady Herrin, stomping right into the audience chamber. "You are our king, and it is your obligation to protect us from this threat."

"I am aware of my duty, Lady Herrin."

Korox stood on the dais. His throne had been destroyed in the melee that took place only a day before. Blood stained the floor of the chamber, and scars from the battle marred the pillars.

The king looked up at the painting on the ceiling. It depicted a time in his nation's history, only a few short years ago, known as the Black Days of Eleint. What would these days be called, he wondered, if not black?

"The crops have withered," said the old merchant woman. "Our livelihoods ate at stake. Our lives are in your hands, yet you stand there and do nothing."

"You have seen the power of Xeries. Our army cannot best him, and we do not have the resources to beat him in a magical fight. We are looking into solutions."

"Give him what he wants," she said. "Turn over your daughter for the sake of the kingdom, and be done with it."

Korox paced across the dais. Inside he fumed, his frustration boiling over into a massive hatred of the woman before him. Right now, she was all that was wrong with the world. He wanted to smite her, cut her down for demanding such things from him.

"You know not what you ask of me," he said.

"I know very well," said the old merchant. "You can save the lives of thousands by sacrificing only one. That is a good pay off. Even someone as poor with economics as you can understand those numbers."

The king reached for his sword, but his hand was stayed by that of Senator Divian.

She smiled at him, and gently directed him toward his private reading room. "That is quite enough Lady Herrin," she said to the merchant. "Your request has been heard, and the king will take it under advisement. You will be contacted if your advice is needed further."

"But what about-"

Divian cut her off. "Good day, Lady Herrin." The senator escorted the king out of the audience chamber.

The door shut behind them, and Divian raised her hand, illuminating the room with her magic. The king walked silently to a heavy chair and sat. He could feel the skin on his face drooping from lack of sleep. He could hear the arguments for each of the decisions ahead of him running over and over again inside his head.

He let out a sigh and placed his face in his hands. "Divian, what would you do?"

The senator stood beside his chair and touched his arm. "I cannot tell you what I would do. I am not the king. Mariko is not my daughter."

The king nodded, rubbing his face.

The senator smiled. "What I can tell you is what I think you, the rightful King of Erlkazar, should do."

"And what is that?"

"You are human, Korox. Your daughter is all you have left of your family. She is the end of your bloodline, and the heir to your kingdom. It is only natural for you to want to save her."…

"But what if there isn't any kingdom for her to inherit?"

"That's where it gets tougher. Ask yourself, if what you want is to tell Xeries he cannot have your daughter, then how will you protect her? What is your next course of action?"

"There is little else I can do. The army cannot fight him, and I fear the Matron's offer of help with the convocation cannot be trusted. It does not seem wise to risk the fate of the kingdom on the promises of a woman who kidnapped my daughter and wants to use me as her pawn."

"That seems like a wise assessment," she agreed.

"If I send Mariko away, ask her to run for her life, I will be dooming the rest of the kingdom."

"It sounds as if you have already made up your mind."

He stood up and took Divian into his arms. "I'm afraid I have. I was just hoping for a miracle, I guess, before it came to this."

++++'?

"You can't be serious." Quinn couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I have agonized over this decision, Quinn. I have weighed every option. I have tried everything within my power. Where was unable to save Llorbauth, Mariko can." The king let out a resigned sigh. "I have no other choice."

Quinn felt his heart racing in his chest. "Are you going to tell her?"

"Soon. She will have until the morning to make her peace with it." Korox looked at his trusted bodyguard, sadness in his eyes. "As will you."

Quinn took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and get his head around what he had just heard. "If this is your decision, then I want to tell her, and I want to be the one to take her there."

The king straightened, looking at Quinn with all seriousness. "You do not have to do this."

"I know."

"And you also know what that means?"

"I would rather be with her than make her go alone," Quinn said. "She should have someone, perhaps several someones, with her."

The king sat quietly for a moment, considering his assassin's request, a dour look on his face. "Very well," he said. "Make sure she understands that this was your request, not mine. I do not want her to leave this place thinking that her father was too much of a coward to deliver the news to her in person."

"Yes, my lord." Quinn bowed. "You have my word."

"She's going to be angry."

"I know."

"She's going to argue."

Quinn nodded. "It wouldn't be like her not to." "Good luck, son." "Thank you, my king."

"So he sent you to do his dirty work, then?" Mariko waved her hand and the entire table of books blew over, slamming to the floor, some against the wall.

"No," replied Quinn. "I asked him if I could be the one to tell you."

"Still protecting him, huh? I guess I know where your loyalty lies."

"That's not fair, Mariko. It was very difficult for him to allow me this. He wanted to tell you himself, but I convinced him to let me do it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going with you. I'm not letting you leave here alone."

Quinn tried to take her hand, but she was too angry, and she pulled it away.

"You listened to him yourself," said Quinn. "There is little other choice."

"There's got to be another way."

"There is," said Quinn. "But it requires that many, many people die in our place."

Mariko stood at the window to her chamber, looking out onto the southern plain below Klarsamryn. "I know," she said after a long silence. "But I'm just not done here yet." She sobbed.

Quinn came up behind and put his arms around her. This time she did not pull away.