The Right To Rule

Chapter 13

The first thing Aamon sensed was Thomas’ Radiation signature, grinding softly with a slow eluding warmth coming from it. Every Vulcan had a Radiation signature. Aamon was shocked to learn that ten years ago. But a memory of sensing Edrick’s Radiation was fresh to him, not his signature; just the feel of his Radiation raging inside him, the strain and the calmness of it. Now, he was filled with sadness, a void, that he never knew Edrick signature.

Aamon knew Javan, the king of Hamal, was coming to him. Aamon was standing on the open balcony starring at the city while his men behind him gamble and drink lightly. He ran his hand through his hair, dark and fashionable cut leaning slightly on his right side. He had told Javan if he needs him he should send a runner but the old king never listen. Nonetheless, the king was here already and there was nothing he can do about it.

Aamon walked back to the room to welcome the king. The room was his leisure chamber though he always finds himself conducting the kingdom’s business at it. It was a square room with an open balcony and low ceiling painted in the sky blue of Daylight, the walls looked like they have been carved from the light-brown stones and were left bare. In the center of the room was a slender table of eight people, dark and shiny, with highback cushioned chairs. On Aamon’s right were three small tables housing wines, food, and fruits of different kinds. The balcony also had its own set of comfortable chairs, but nobody was using them today. His men have chosen a table and decorate it with their refreshments. Tom said the table made him feel important, Aamon since then he didn’t have the heart to remove it.

“That’s Thomas’ signature,” Reydal said as Aamon walked back into the room.

Reydal was a proper elite. He wore his expensive cut suit of blue, shiny with silver buttons and chains, which was always free of wrinkles and stains. Aamon always wondered how Reydal managed to keep clean and fuss about Aamon been in danger at the same time. The wonders of Sky Kingdoms. Compared to Reydal, Aamon never buttons his coat, he liked it free and its cuffs were undone. He felt suffocating if he left it otherwise.

“Such a peaceful fellow that one rarely said two words at the same time,” Tom said with a grin. “I am a peaceful man myself, Thomas must be taken after me since I am his senor just as much as he had taken my name.”

“I doubt,” Reydal replied with a sigh, “you know he ranked above you by several classes?”

“Don’t mind him, Tom, Reydal is just trying to damp your mood.”

It was Zacrian who replied. Zacrian was short with a round face which was always smiling and an enormous appetite. He was not the most skilled swordsman among them, but Aamon knew Zacrian can heal anyone with Radiation unlike all four of them.

“You are such a fine lad, Zac,” Tom refilled Zacrian glass. “My dear Elite Reydal, society is not everything. Take a good look at our keeper Aamon, yes, I will drink to that. The King’s Justice of Hamal, in history of Sky Kingdoms there has only been one simple chicken farmer who has made it to that rank.”

Aamon smiled, he was without words, though he knew that he made it to that rank because he was able to touch Radiation. He doubted if he was a commonfolk of below rank he would have made this far.

“And since I am Aamon’s closest friend,” Tom continued, “I always have a place at the king’s table and you can’t beat that, Elite Reydal.”

Aamon nodded to Gnary, who had rarely said a word anywhere he was. Gnary stood up and open the door precisely as the king rushed in.

“Well, lads! How good to see you,” Javan smiled and walked to Aamon to bear-hugged him. “Ah, you look troubled, my young justice.”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” Aamon replied. “I am enjoying a drink with close friends and trading a tale or two.”

Javan pulled a chair beside Zacrian. The king took a drink from Tom who had transformed to be a manservant for the guests.

“Lads enjoy a drink or two and that’s an order!”

Javan didn’t bother to look back to know that Thomas and Alfred had turned down the drinks. Aamon watched them as they reluctantly took their drinks and sip them. However, they remained standing alongside Gnary.

“There was no need for you to come here, Your Highness. You need to send a runner or let Thomas touch more Radiation and I will be in your presence.”

Javan didn’t reply to Aamon immediately. He drained his glass and held it midair to be refilled again. Tom obliged happily. He seemed to enjoy his new rank in such a way he didn’t mind refilling Reydal glass too.

Javan Weissman, the First Son of Amalthea, and King of Hamal was a tall wrinkled man with a bald forehead and gray hair he kept in a ponytail. He favored loose robes designed in patterns of stark trees in different shades of green. On his good days, he was always full of energy, robust laughter, and boyish jokes. Aamon grew up thinking elites and kings never laughed nor share jokes, but when he met Javan all had evaporated. Sometimes Aamon blamed it on his upbringing because the only elite he knew while he was growing up was Paul Vennix whom his parents used to work for, and Vennix was a stone face fellow and never cracked a smile till the day he drew his last breath.

“That would have been boring,” the king replied Aamon, “you would have only come with Reydal though the lad smiles, he is as bad as Thomas and Alfred.”

Tom and Zacrian fell into uncontrollable laughter pointing at Reydal who was doing his best to ignore the king’s comment.

“Plus I am old, Aamon. I should always find an excuse to stretch my legs.”

“I understand, Your Highness. Still, it’s important to reserve your strength.”

“If I didn’t know you better I would have been touched by your concern,” Javan smiled and leaned forward. “Does it bother you that some elites think you are pulling my strings?”

Aamon shrugged his shoulders and took a long swing of his wine. He realized the room had fallen into a silence in a way he was hearing himself breath and his heart thud repeatedly. He can feel Tom’s gaze burn him though he was toying with glass, Reydal had a frown of concern on his face sitting on the edge of his chair ready to leap if Aamon order it so. Zacrian pretend he didn’t hear the question but Aamon can see that he was looking at him from their corner of his eyes. They all have asked him this question and Aamon had always made a point of not answering them. He put his glass down and ran his hand over his head. It was a nervous gesture.

“Yes, it bothered me, Your Highness,” Aamon replied softly.

It felt strange to said it out aloud. It was as if he was standing naked in front of the court. It was his shame because he knew the likes of Tom and Zacrian viewed him as a demigod and now they have learned their demigod was afraid of what elites and ladies of the court might whisper in the gardens and balls was something to be embarrassed about. Moreover, Vulcans have rumors always spread about them; power-hunger killing soldiers, the slayers of dreams, and all the flaming things which were far from the truth. It made it worst at Hamal because it was the only nation in Sky Kingdoms that had banned Watchers. Although some will say they were also banned at Barren Lands which was not true, they were not welcomed at Titan nor the Watchers will find themselves in the city filled Vulcans. Aamon had had that sensing Radiation had an effect on their Celestial.

Back to the matter at hand; Watchers were banned at Hamal because of him. No, because of what the Spider and her Order have done to his family. More importantly, they were burned for what they did to the world.

“But why?” the king cried, “why it bothers you so much?”

Aamon thought his answer carefully, his eyes were cast on the half-empty glass of wine; he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, he didn’t want to challenge them. He let himself suffered from their burning gazes. The truth has to come out, one way or another. Burning ashes! It was still hard to say it out aloud.

“I am sure you know the story of Ken the Lord Commander,” Aamon said softly.

Reydal frown slightly. Aamon was sure he was trying to connect the stories and find no connection at all. Reydal was always a slow learner. Tom had a serious shadow clouding his face, he had taken his hat off and he fanned his face with it. The king’s face was blank. Aamon hoped he had not gone senile on him, not at this moment of all moments.

The story of Ken was familiar to most folks who had grown up at Hamal though Aamon had first heard it seven years ago. Ken the Lord Commander was Ken the Magician in the year 785 at Riverlane southeast of Hamal. The year 780 E.N to 792 E.N was a period of Ascension Madness when Josef IV Tylon, the king of Hamal, for only fourteen months died during a brief swept of yellow flu. Tylon was only eighteen years old, the only child of Josef III and the last heir to the throne.

“Isn’t he some kind of a hero?” Zacrian said his eyes distant trapped in his thoughts. “I have heard a story somewhere, I just can’t remember where but I knew he is a hero. By the way why this story is related to you?”

“Probably the background, Ken’s family died during the Battle of Three Streams and he was the only survivor,” Reydal answered in his intone voice. “Now that I have said it out aloud I can see some similarities. Still…”

Reydal was cut midair as the king raised his hand.

“Skygods and all, I had no idea what you lads talking about,” the king said confused.

“Ascension Madness, Your Highness,” Reydal clarified.

Aamon watched Javan’s face lit and broke into a smile.

“By the light of day, why you didn’t say that in the beginning? Ascension Madness was a blood-thirsty madness; the kingdom was in such state Skygods in their good graces didn’t even recognize it,” the king said.

“Now since you all have refreshed your minds,” Aamon said, “I will gladly continue.”

Riverlane was near both Nekkar and Regor, surrounded by three streams of rivers that fed both Lancewood River and Hannah’s Tear which divided three nations. Ken the Magician thought it was best he braced the Endless Night and took a long journey to Elara, the capital of Nekkar where he will be safe with his family because the Madness though it started at Amalthea was spreading throughout the kingdom. In dawn when the sun was surfacing from its long month slumber, Ken and his family gathered their belongs and hurried outside Riverlane when they thought everyone was still resting, little did he knew that Berger’s men, who were one of the five elite fightings for the throne, decided to attack Riverlane, Braun’s layer, by the first light. His magic didn’t save his family, but that dawn while the sun was still hidden by the sea and mountains at Altair, he picked a sword and killed a man for the first time.

“Lad you are such a fine storyteller,” Javan said as he wet his lips with wine, “reminds me of Josanine, she had fine bosom and thick backside, but I did listen to a word or two she said, and she told me Ken took five men down in a span of three minutes like he was a seasoned swordmaster.”

Aamon nodded, stood up, and pace the room. “Six months later he was a commander of twenty men and in another six he commanded one-third of Braun’s army. A simple magician who used to entertain for starling.”

Aamon stopped and looked at every man in the room, slowly taking in their face as tension built in the room.

“But elites said they cannot be given order by a simple magician. They said it cannot be!”

Aamon let his voice rise and echoed the room bouncing against the wall and rushing back to them in waves.

“And that was their downfall, it was what caused Braun the throne, all his subjects and supporters started to question his decisions.”

The king pushed his chair backward and walked towards Aamon. Aamon can see the king had his bearings, his face held no smile, his eyes were cold like he was seeing the Madness with them.

“The downfall was Braun’s, he made a mistake of giving his elites free will, freedom of speech and didn’t keep them in check,” Javan’s voice was firm and strong. “Four years when we announce the decree to ban every Watcher in Sky Kingdoms, it appeared as if it was a joke; nobody dare and challenge the Timeless Halls. A year later, a proof and a show of power and force, we mounted the heads of those who thought it was mildly a jest.”

Aamon tried to say something but he realized he had no words. He had seen Javan like that; it was rare sometimes he thought he had imagined it and dismiss it as an illusion. This was the first man since the Origin who had set his foot down against Watchers and no war came out of it. And he had done it without knowing the seduction of Radiation.

“I heard you crossed the city walls,” Javan continued with a hand on Aamon’s shoulder, “how was the old boy Weib? Ambitious as always?”

“Held himself like a king,” Aamon replied. He can see Javan’s features were getting back to normal, his eyes beamed with excitement and his lips were forming a smile.

“But lad you shouldn’t worry about what Weib and other elites said about you; I am the First Son, and despite been a Radiator, you are an elite of Hamal society.”

“You don’t mind the talks that I might be for your crown?”

“Amalthea was such a dull city until you came and as for the crown,” the king said brushing his head with his hand which held no crown, and shrug his shoulder.

Aamon nodded and walked the king back to his chair.

“What did you learn from the old boy?”

“Nothing much than the fact was housing Order of Light,” Aamon said with a disappointed laced on his voice.

“Interesting.”

The king had his hands under his chin as he tried to think for any explanation, Aamon has been trying that however, nothing had come as yet. He didn’t want to pressure Weib, he had other use of him. But it bothered him, in all three years since Watcher’s exile and the first group they sent was Order of Light. It made no sense.

“Reydal lad, what’s your hypothesis?”

Aamon hide a smile as Reydal almost slipped his drink by hearing his name.

“The way Aamon is frowning Weib didn’t tell him anything though I heard he gave his guards a Radiator beating. Tell me what do you think of Order of Light?”

“The Order of Light is shy, Your Highness,” Reydal replied clearly recovered. “They enjoy moving around Sky Kingdoms, settling there and here, whilst concealing their identities. My guess is that they were coming from the north, either Rigel or Themisto, and they thought it will be best to learn about us.”

Reydal had shared his hypothesis with Aamon soon after they left the manor and Aamon had commanded to spread the word to Rigel and Themisto among Vulcans to learn if the Watchers have been there. It will take time to get a word back, nonetheless, Aamon had mastered the art of patience.

“Ah, then from here they probably passed through Iron City; I doubt they will favor Metis which might lead them to Betelgeuse, too much politics there. Send a word to Iron City, we might be lucky.”

“And speaking of Betelgeuse, Rodfold has graced the Betelgeuse a few weeks ago.”

It was Tom who spoke.

“Still believing there is a cure,” Aamon said with a shake of ahead. “Soon he will overstay his welcome, I heard those Ministers don’t enjoy an army of Vulcans at their city.”

The king stood up, took the last gulp, and set his glass down. He was no longer steady like when he came, Aamon cannot blame him, the mood was calling for a drink.

“The boy is ambitious, you have to give him that and he is resourceful. Well, this was fun, but lads' age is catching up on me.”

“It was an honor hosting you, Your Highness,” Aamon tried to stand up but the king waved him down.

“Reydal is corrupting you, lad; you are a soldier first, be one. Allow your flame to burn as bright as the sun in the sky.”

Javan walked to the door which was still held by Gnary with Thomas and Alfred falling by his sides like his shadow.

***

Aamon walked to his apartment on the western wing of High Palace on a deserted hallway. He was alone, Tom and Zacrian were talking about a nearby elite inn and few drinks; Reydal was going to send words trying to find paths of Ironhill and her sisters, and Gnary, well…Aamon didn’t know where Gnary might be. I hope he follows Tom and Zacrian just to keep them out of trouble.

Aamon walked with his hands tucked in his coat while his Moonstone sword swung freely on his waist, his footsteps echoed the extravagant halls but he was hearing none of it. He was touching Radiation, of course, enough to help him sane. He was still thinking of what Javan had said, not to be afraid, for him to burn brighter. However, his life has a single purpose-- the Spider-- to kill her and avenge his family. There was also his family, his wife, and children, he want to leave Hamal as a better kingdom for them. Despite their love and joy, his life was still consumed by vengeance, the desire to kill. He has been holding his anger for fifteen years he cannot simply put it aside and find other things to do. At least the old king was correct about one thing, Aamon was a soldier and soldiers go to battle. Soon, I will be bringing a battle to you and your Justice, Spider.

He found the main door to his apartment guarded as always by two serious-faced Vulcans with short steel swords and daggers. If Rodfold was not busy chasing the cure of his tearing he would have contributed few starlings to armor all my men with Moonstone.

Pure Moonstone was the most expensive thing at Sky Kingdoms in all directions. An ounce of pure Moonstone was going by a half starling which meant to have a single dagger of Moonstone was a hundred starlings and more. Aamon knew his sword cost four hundred and fifty starlings at the market. He was shocked to learn about it. He remembered that his family used to take about five to twelve starlings between Daylights and they only kept the fifth. Yes, all the hard work they were doing, they kept the fifth and the rest went to Vennix, however, five starlings back then was a fortune. Now, Aamon had learned the world was much broader and expensive.

Aamon nodded to the Vulcans as one opened the door for him. He had stopped trying to strike a conversation with them, they listen but they didn’t say anything solid; it was clear the last thing they need was a conversation with him and Aamon had left them be.

“Papa! Papa!”

Just a second a door was closed Aamon’s face brighten as his children came running to him. He went down to his keens and embraced them as they rushed into him.

“It appeared I was dearly missed,” Aamon as he brushed Josef’s hair. He had just turned five and Aamon already seem himself in his son, not all by appearance but by gestures too. He will be such a fine man, and the only regret Aamon had was the fact he won’t be there to see it. Aamon had also prayed to the nameless gods of the sky that Josef should not touch Radiation. He didn’t wish his fate to be the same one his son suffered.

“Ma made us hear the baby kick,” Karen said beaming bright with joy. She was only three but the prospect of a young sister or brother always filled her happiness she rarely stand steady.

“Really? How did it felt like?” Aamon said beaming.

Aamon stood up and walked to the kitchen holding his children.

“Like something was moving inside Ma’s tummy,” Erich replied animated, “and Ma said it’s going to be a boy by the way it kicks, and I can’t wait to teach to fight with swords.”

Aamon let out a burst of raw belly laughter. Apparently, everyone has made plans what to do with the baby and he had not as yet. Karen already volunteered to feed the baby and play with dolls if the baby came to be a girl.

“I also had to think what to do with baby,” Aamon raised his hands defeated.

“Ma said you will tell the baby stories,” Karen said.

Aamon stopped and looked at his daughter. “You know I am bad at stories.”

“My dear they different kinds of stories and what I meant you will be telling the baby your stories,” Kathleen said as she made the final touches to the table she was setting.

For the briefest moment everything stopped as the breath was slowly drawn out of Aamon, stunned and falling in love, again and again; the way her eyes caught the light, the dark freckles decorating her nose, and her fine curved thin lips. Some say women were least beautiful while they were with child, Kathleen was gorgeous.

She had worn a long sleeves plain brown dress that fits her at the same time accommodates the roundness of her tummy. Her hair was braided in a ponytail and it swept the air around it she moved her head sideways.

“My story is a sad one,” Aamon replied his wife, his voice laced with affection.

“Not at all. We are not sad cause we are also part of your story, and moreover, not all stories have the same beginning. Some start by an elite ball during Daylight, and some…start by a burning house in the heart of the night.”

Aamon walked around the table as Karen and Josef took their seats happily. He embraced her Kathleen who smelled of apples with traces of cinnamon. He put his hand to her stomach and felt a thud sound coming from the inside. It was strong, almost like it was on the base of Kathleen’s stomach. Aamon can also sense a slight movement, a tickle on his palm as the baby move to the right, and in few seconds the tickle died and the kick he was expecting didn’t come.

He planted a kiss on Kathleen’s forehead and take his seat at the head of the table.

“It appears I am outvoted, story duties fall into me,” Aamon grinned.

“I hear the king was at our section of the palace,” Kathleen said. “Everything it's all right?”

Aamon nodded. “It was an excuse to stretch his legs, he said.”

He put aside his Radiation and touch as little as he wanted. The smell of roasted pork hit him hard, water his mouth, and made his stomach grumbled in protest, the sweet scent of mashed potatoes followed. Aamon licked his mouth with a thought and it send Karen on a laughing spree. He dug in while Kathleen was still dishing.

“You know he meant well and he is the king, he can visit his subjects whenever he wanted,” Kathleen said after she had done dishing and took her seat.

Aamon knew she had servants however she prefer to do some minimal work herself like cooking and bathing the children. Sometimes they take turns in bathing them since it was the only thing Aamon was good at, cooking, flames, and ash, he was glad he had a cook to fill for him.

“I know. I finally told him it bothered me to have a court talking about me, it will take time to use to it but from I will take its punches silently.”

“I will love to see that, after what happens to Weib Manor will be a talk of the court for the whole period of Crane, I want to see how you will cope.”

“You are so encouraging,” Aamon replied wounded.

Three years ago softly after the heads of Watchers were mounted on the city walls, the court and all ranks of the city were talking about war. Some were afraid, causing chaos in Perth, the richest section of Amalthea, and some were demanding his head and evacuation of Vulcans out the five-mile radius within the city. It all went down with Aamon safely locked in his apartment for four months without making a public appearance.

It might seem a coward move, however, to Aamon, it was a sensible move. He never want to be in the center of attention and with each passing day, it became harder and harder.

“Don’t look so down. You are the most powerful Vulcan at Sky kingdoms and no elite, lady, or the fourth citizen can send you to hiding,” Kathleen said. She had never stopped believing in him.

“Hooray!” Josef let out an exclamation sound. Aamon knew he didn’t understand most of the things he and Kathleen were talking about. Yet, he understood that Vulcan and powerful at the same sentence meant, after all, it was what he always to boost to his peers.

Aamon picked his glass which was filled with freshly made apple cider and everyone at the table follow the suit.

“May we brave the talks which about to come.”

The sound of glass against glass drown the room as laughter rose from its slumber as Josef started his tale of how he ‘borrows’ Lady Muller’s cat for few hours. It was how Aamon always ends his day, it was how he wishes to spend it until his body dies of Radiation. In this table, despite his nightmares and his slow tearing, there was peace.