The Right To Rule

Chapter 17

It was easier to round up Vulcans than Aamon had first thought. Vulcans didn’t like groups; groups call attention and all that flaming Way of Life review. However, if there was a goal, a single goal, and a chance of freedom; well, that thought became a reality. If men have a common enemy, they were inclined to form a bond; a tighter bond.

Aamon figured out that Watchers were not Vulcans’ first enemy. The enemy was fear. Aamon taught them not to be afraid. To be seen, to be heard. To find their voice. Finding a voice was not speaking out loud or attending court and having a say; it was not to be afraid to speak your mind.

It’s ironic, I know, Aamon thought to himself with a bit of sadness tickling his heart. I hate public attention but I tell my men not to be afraid of being a Vulcan.

Of course, being a Vulcan was not a choice. It was blessings from the Illuminator. Only selected people knew the lust of Radiation, the seduction, and the tearing. It was pain at the same it was power. It was the power of being chosen. A Vulcan should have pride. He was a child of Skygods.

Aamon was six months old Vulcan when his family was killed during Daylight Panther. He remembered the first time touching Radiation with a tangled emotion of joy and happiness. He was at the Haruno’s hayfield eight miles from his farms. He and Edrick were delivering eggs to the Haruno, and of course, coming to Haruno meant slacking in farm duties and enjoying the company of their peers since Haruno’s farm had three boys of their age. They played, jested, and dream of spires of Amalthea freely under the sun, and Edrick who was already a Radiator enjoyed endless sources of Radiation secretly. There was an unwritten rule: don’t tell anyone you were a Vulcan. It was a day well spent, it was the first day of many days Aamon knew he won’t forget.

“How are you feeling little brother?” Edrick asked as they cart away in their mules as the sun was setting.

“Little bit cold,” Aamon replied. He has been feeling cold and sweaty for the past hour. He was sitting on the bench cart wrapped himself with a blanket.

“Ma will warm a tea for you when we arrive home.”

Aamon only nodded. It must be something he ate, there was no other explanation for his sudden fever. Aamon dozed off to calm his pounding his head. He didn’t remember how long he must have slept, he woke up when he cannot feel the rolling of the cart. Edrick had stopped. They must have reached home.

Aamon turned to look at his brother only to find him looking back. Edrick’s eyes were wide in shock, his face paled in a haze of dusk light of the fading sun.

“The blessings of the Illuminator, you are a Vulcan, brother,” Edrick said with a smile wide on his face. “Don’t look so startled, you won’t feel anything but I can sense Radiation inside you. There is so much I am going to teach you.”

Aamon smiled. Skygods! He was going to be a Vulcan. He drifted back to his nap with a smile as the cart started to roll again.

Aamon walked to the training grounds in his usual attire. Unbuttoned coat of black with velvet red markings and tucked white shirt. He had his Moonstone swinging sideways on his waist while he gloved his hands tucked inside his coat pockets.

Josef was leading the party like a proper commander in his pressed uniform of blue and gold and a wooden sword on his waist. He walked delicately with one hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes scanning streets for threats. Aamon felt safe around his son.

“Elite Reydal was having little faith on Commander Berdal,” Tom said beside Aamon, “ but now look how smooth our march is and the good citizens of Amalthea are evening giving us a blow.”

“Reydal had always that fault,” Aamon replied with a faint smile.

“My good elite, take some notes, you are been schooled,” Tom said.

“Skygods! Can’t a man have a single day of peace?” Reydal asked.

“You are an elite member of Hamal, born ruling the likes of us, and you are a Vulcan, there is no peace in those ranks.”

Aamon was again in the presence of his squad. Reydal, Tom, Zacrian and Gnary. And as usual, Tom always pick at Reydal, he was a sport about it. Aamon do nothing to intervene, it was good for the group to have an argument here and there. Despite those arguments, both Reydal and Tom had the best places in each other hearts.

“Peace within Tom and I can’t get whilst you attack me every second.”

“But I was not attacking you, Elite Reydal, it was just a piece of advice.”

Reydal sighted and made no comment. Reydal was walking on Aamon’s right hands tucked on his back and clothing fine and regal as always. The First Son didn’t look that regal.

“Any news about Light?” Aamon asked. He had not received a report since both Tom and Reydal started to track down the Ironhill.

“I am afraid I have nothing to report as yet,” Reydal replied, disappointed slightly. The man never wants to fail.

The training grounds were at the outskirt of the city, about two miles or less from High Palace. The streets curved around Shining Stars, the richest section of the city, winding down to a grander section of the first and second citizens where the streets were wide and river stone-paved, flat and even. Only a few buildings have spires, however, most were still big, with red clay side steep roofing and small windows. They were close together it was hard to separate them as individuals. On the walls, they have lots of vines and plants brightening the walls of different shades of gray and peach. Some walls have balconies with steel railings, ladies sat gossiping and sipping wines and teas.

“Tom?” Aamon looked at Tom was on his left. Tom was wearing his usual wide brim hat and dark cloak around his body.

“The Watchers didn’t pass through any major city to Europa. There was some meeting in Timeless Halls, I don’t know what it's all about but most of those women dropped their plots and went there running.”

“We are all aware of that,” Aamon replied. It was not news that a few months ago Watchers have grouped at Timeless Halls for the first time in a century. They always have their meeting but there was something about this one, but it was something Aamon will worry about it at a later stage.

“Yes, but I have heard a rumor and I didn’t want to bring it up until I was certain. Reliable information takes time, Aamon.”

Aamon stopped and looked at Tom who was doing his best not to look at him.

“There is a rumor that the meeting was about us. It was a discussion about which Order should deal with us and it was also rumored that either the Kingmaker or the Spider will be suitable for the job.

“The Kingmaker had left Polaris as soon as the meeting ended and only Skygods knew where is the Spider.”

“If the Spider came to us, she will be saving a lot of time for us,” Aamon said thoughtfully, “well, the Kingmaker will deal the king.”

“However, it will be good to know the exact time so we can get ready,” Reydal spoke.

“I agree with you, Reydal. We will get ready for either one,” Aamon replied.

“Papa! Why are we stopping?” Josef called who was already far ahead.

Aamon continued to walk.

“Let’s wait and hear what Weib had learned,” Aamon said.

Tom said nothing and Reydal only nodded.

***

The training ground had jammed uneven and weathered rock walls. Inside it was an old manor with four spires which three were broken; the manor was grand once with white walls and crystal windows of light blue and yellow. The manor was big enough to house two hundred and sixty men, about the size of the Atons, the Vulcan army.

Aamon, Josef, and his men were welcomed with a salute at the gates where two Vulcans stood watch with tall spears. The walls of the training grounds were lit by oil lamps burning bright and orange instead of white-lights. Inside the walls was hallowed darkness brightened by fire and white lights from afar. It was like stars in the sky, the only difference was that some stars were in motion.

“The training grounds have a sense of home,” Zacrian said, “I think we should give it a name, Vulcan Aamon. Saying ‘training grounds’ don’t have that feel.”

“I agree with you, Zac,” Reydal murmured.

“The name should be grand, powerful, and catchy,” Tom said nodding to himself.

“That’s a hard thing to come up with at a moment’s notice,” Aamon replied.

Aamon walked inside. The name will come, there was no need to tire his mind with it. He had other thoughts already. No, there was a simpler way of coming with a name without him putting thought into it.

“Zacrian will have the honor to name it,” Aamon replied looking at Zacrian who was starting to beam. “You will let us know when you came up with it.”

“Yes, sir!”

Aamon touched Radiation, softly like he was cooing the baby, and like a drop, it came to him. It tore him inside, a course in his veins, hot like fire itself. He willed it. His mind held the power to tame it, to calm it, and bend it to his will. He formed weaves of fire orbs. He bend the space, the air itself and fire came into life without him flickering a hand. Four fire orbs big as a fist and brighter shone above his head.

“Wow! Papa, I want to be a Vulcan like you,” Josef said, words entangled with joy.

Aamon didn’t find the word. He only brushed Josef’s hair with a smile that hide his pain. He didn’t wish this part for his son. Josef has to take care of the family once Aamon’s flame burned out.

The path was illuminated with Aamon’s orbs. Everything was much clear to him. The paved ground which mended per his request, broken stones have been replaced with new ones and the weed had been well taken off. He was proud. The training grounds were starting to look decent.

Aamon walked towards the entrance examining the ground with care. He didn’t bother to look at the walls and windows, it was the first thing they took care of when the king gave him the rights of the manor. He stopped in the entrance before two Vulcans.

“I sure hope you are not my escorts, I brought mine.”

“Uh, no, Vulcan Aamon, we are here to see if you had any needs,” a Vulcan with a ponytail replied.

“I have none. Thank you, Atons,” Aamon replied dismissing them.

The Vulcans saluted and reluctantly walked away.

“They meant well,” Reydal said.

“I already have four of you, and I don’t like to have all of you around.”

“Old friend, you wound me. I thought we are such a delightful company,” Tom spoke.

“You are Tom, all of you, but a man needs to be alone at times.”

“Oh please, Aamon just says you don’t want to feel important,” Tom said sweeping the air with his hand.

Aamon smiled. “Your presence reminds me when I try to forget.”

“I am not the one who had inspected the ground once we had arrived nor the one who command more than two hundred Vulcans,” Reydal said in his monotone voice.

“I don’t often agree with you, Elite Reydal, but I second that,” Tom nodded.

“Radiation take you all.”

Aamon willed his Radiation sucking it back to his body, to his Well, and slowly his fire orbs dimmed until there were no more. He entered the manor main hall which has been transformed to be a dining hall. Aamon looked at carefully arranged tables and chairs, the floor dull and clean. The air smelled of beer, ale, and roasted chicken. It had an aura of smoke and fire. The smell of men, of freedom.

The dining hall was not empty, there were three groups of Vulcans enjoying their drinks and smooth conversation. Both wore the standard uniform of Aton, a reddish coat and dark trousers. They stood up the first second they got a glimpse of Aamon and saluted. Aamon returned the salute, a right-hand palm stretch on the heart.

“Come lads, let’s enjoy a drink or two,” Tom said as he pulled Gnary and Zacrian to the closest group of Atons.

Aamon took the arc steps on the right. There were twins set of the stairs with flowering steel patterns ascending to the second floor. Aamon had a private room on top where he sorted his reports. Though he has rooms at High Palace, he often did his justice work here, not that there was much to do. Aamon was not a policing force, his ranks were higher than that. However, he had deployed Atons around the major routes of Hamal to patrol the border for Watchers. The King’s Peace, it was dubbed.

“Reydal, how did the Watchers go past our patrol and reach the capital without our knowledge?” Aamon asked as he ascend the steps.

“A curious thought,” Reydal replied. His eyes looked distant and his lips drew a thin line; he often do that while he was lost in thought.

“It’s easier for a Watcher to sense Radiation, we don’t have enough men to patrol it and as we know, there is a Pulser which is not a friendly beast,” Aamon said.

“Plus those women can always anchor themselves and when they do that they are practically flying,” Aamon added after a moment.

“Only if we can stop them from sensing us, it would even the plain field,” Reydal said nodding to himself.

“The gap is so wide it needs the Illuminator to fill it and only Him,” Aamon said looking at Reydal. “In the next ten years, we will only be a tale, villains, and maybe heroes, but our flames would have died so long ago to dull some memories. On the other hand, two centuries later they will be still alive and only recall us like a shadow of thought. Everything we built is at stake. The future itself is threatened as we stand right now.”

After Aamon witnessed his farm barren with flames and reduced to ashes, he was lost. There was no kin expect his family, and without his family, he had no reason to live. Just shy of thirteen years, he had a void that cannot be filled. The only thing in his name was Radiation and his most prized possession was eating him slowly, killing him by degrees. Right there, even before he learned it was the Order of Justice doing, he knew the gap of powers, the power of life and death. His power was of destruction.

Aamon arrived at his private room with Reydal right on his heels. Before he even open the door, he sensed Radiation coming from inside. The room was occupied by two Vulcans. He knew them. Aamon knew he will find them waiting.

Joshua and Leoray Silverhorn were standing by the chairs waiting for him and they saluted the first-second Aamon entered the room.

“Vulcans Aamon and Reydal, it’s such an honor to be graced by your presence,” Leoray said as leaf through his papers.

“It’s good to see you again and everything appeared to be in order, congratulations. Please take your seats,” Aamon gestured.

Aamon's private room was small with a single wide window facing east. The walls were decorated with the map of the Hamal rolling from one wall to another detailing even the smallest farm. On the floor were stale dull paving stones. There was a moderate table by the window worshiped by a brown leather chair fit for kings. On the southern wall, there were soft and comfortable chairs which Aamon loved most because he can always sink himself on them.

Aamon unbuckled his Moonstone and collapsed on the nearest chair. There was a blue, half-circle, with no legs. There were about eight, all of them around a low wide table for documents and drinks. The rest of the men followed his lead and took their chairs.

“Let’s start with reports of patrol,” Aamon said leaning back on his chairs, “the rest, no matter the importance, will follow.”

“Ah, well…there is no good news to report, Vulcan Aamon,” Joshua said looking on the map on the wall. “Four Atons were attacked on the north two hundred miles from the border of Barren Lands and no one survived.”

“Attacked? Why on a flaming night I am hearing about it now?” Aamon asked, surprised.

“Because we received the word an hour ago, Vulcan Aamon. I deeply apologize for the delay,” Joshua continued.

“And please don’t tell me it’s the Guardians,” Reydal whispered.

“Unfortunately, Vulcan Reydal, it’s them.”

“That’s bold,” Aamon replied. “Reydal, I hope now you see politics don’t always work.”

Reydal’s face flushed red, briefly, however, Aamon saw it. Reydal’s dedication always amazed him. The man never wants to be wrong.

“Any other thing to report about patrol?”

“Nothing else, Vulcan Aamon. There was only the usual, Spiral Pulser playing tricks as always.”

“The records of thievery?” Aamon asked

“None, Vulcan Aamon. At least nothing major than stealing of apple and loaf bread here and there.”

“Before we move forth, let’s discuss the Guardians. We need to respond, hard, and now,” Aamon said.

“If I may be so bold, Vulcans,” Leoray said, “there is only one response and that’s sending a host Atons to their camp and burning everything that belongs to them including their lives.”

“Such a bold suggestion, Leoray,” Reydal replied and Leoray shrugged his shoulders.

The Guardians was a group of rogue Vulcans on the north section of Hamal led by Moritz Darkflame. Aamon had known about them two years ago when they were starting on sorts of havoc on the border to Barren Lands. It was only five Vulcans then. Now the reports suggested Darkflame has close to twenty Vulcans, all power-hungry and skilled to kill.

“Tom will lead twenty Atons with orders to kill any Guardian they came across and he will leave by the first hour of waking,” Aamon said. “Now that’s settled, what more do you have for me?”