Ishkhandar - Part 6

Content Warning: Mentions of blood and physical violence

King Xenon strode down the outdoor corridor, past the marble columns, stone-faced guards, and luscious fragrant gardens. His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once, and he paid little attention to his surroundings. However, he did detect a shuffling sound behind him and tensed up. As he reached for the hilt of his sword, he heard a familiar soft voice.

“Your Majesty,” the man behind him whispered in Heliglossan. The king turned around and faced his advisor, Lord Oganesson.

Oh good, it’s just you, the king thought. He had been feeling increasingly agitated and paranoid lately, so he breathed a sigh of relief.

Lord Oganesson was still wearing the same dark robes that he had on when he accompanied the king and prince to the throne room earlier. “Your Majesty, were you not at the banquet? I saw His Highness the Crown Prince there.”

The king sighed and forced himself to smile halfway. “The banquet is not for me, and I have grown weary of these elaborate social gatherings. Let the others enjoy the finery. They will certainly get far more out of it.”

“Have you eaten at all, Your Majesty?”

The king shook his head. “I have not the appetite.”

“But Your Majesty, it is not good for your health. I shall have trays of food brought to your chamber later.”

The king made an expression that was half laugh and half sigh. “You treat me too well, Lord Oganesson.”

“It is my duty as your advisor,” Lord Oganesson replied. “A king cannot take care of an empire if he does not take care of himself.”

The king frowned. “I oftentimes feel as if I can take care of neither.”

Lord Oganesson gasped. “Please, Your Majesty, those are not words befitting a king.”

The king grinned. “Perhaps we should switch places. The empire would be in far better hands.”

Lord Oganesson suppressed a smile. “Your Majesty, you surely jest. I dare not overstep my bounds.”

The king sighed. “Of course. We all have roles that we must play.” He turned to his advisor. “So, you said you saw my son at the banquet.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but I am not sure how long he stayed, since I was only there briefly to check on things,” Lord Oganesson replied. “He was sitting by himself with a goblet, of wine I presume, and a very small plate of fruit. I did not notice him eating anything else.”

The king’s expression became somber. “I suppose my son also does not have the appetite.”

“Shall I also have trays of food brought to his chamber?” Lord Oganesson asked.

The king shook his head. “He is already an adult, so we cannot make him eat if he does not want to.”

“Actually, I am surprised he joined us earlier. It has been a while since you two spoke.”

The king looked down and felt a sensation coursing through his veins that was colder than the marble tiles he stood upon.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Lord Oganesson whispered. “I have misspoken.”

“No, it is fine. It is true that we have seldom spoken all these years, even though I had all the opportunities to.” The king took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I just happened to encounter him in the courtyard earlier today, so I told him he should come to greet our visitors.”

“That was also surprising as well, Your Majesty. We do not normally give merchants such formal greetings in the throne room.”

The king turned his gaze back toward the moon and regarded it for a long time before speaking again. “The attendants said that they were from the Eastern Region.”

Lord Oganesson’s eyes widened, remembering something the king had told him long ago. “Oh, I see. Is that why you wanted His Highness to join?”

“Yes,” the king said. “I am still uncertain whether the prophecy is true, but I wish to take any chance I can to secure my son’s future.”

***

Far from the opulent palace and the festive bazaars of the capital, dark columns of smoke billowed skyward, illuminated by the orange glow of raging fires. A horde of invading cataphracts surged through the streets of Umaraq on horseback, throwing torches in all directions. They wore tasseled helmets, and their faces were covered by a layer of chain mail with two openings for the eyes. Their horses were also clad in armor, and they were an unstoppable force plowing through the city.

Buildings crackled and burned amidst a cacophony of clanging swords and whinnying horses as Umaraq’s soldiers defended their city. Arrows tore through the air, puncturing shields and eliciting screams as they pierced through armor. Civilians ran through the streets but found themselves trapped amidst the fighting.

Amidst the chaos, an Umaraq soldier knelt next to his fallen commanding officer, pushing a torn piece of cloak onto his superior’s gaping chest wound. The officer raised his unsteady hand and grasped the soldier’s arm. He coughed, and crimson mist sputtered from his mouth.

“Save your efforts,” the officer said. “I’ll be dead soon. You will too if you don’t get out of here.”

“Commander,” the soldier said, pressing down on the chest wound more firmly. The cloth quickly turned a deep red.

The officer coughed again. “We cannot hold back the invaders any more. Umaraq is falling. You must ride to Ishkhandar to warn the king.”

“But sir, I cannot abandon-”

“Go now! Before it is too late!” The officer gave one last cough, and his eyes rolled backward.

The soldier stood up and took a deep breath. The blood from his commander’s mortal wound stained his palms and dripped from his fingers. He mounted his horse and pulled the reins. He kept his head low to avoid flying arrows. The thick smoke made his eyes water and his throat tighten.

As he rode through the burning city, one of the cataphracts galloped toward him and swung a curved sword. He yanked the reins and the horse veered to the side, narrowly escaping the enemy sword’s path. He then unsheathed his sword and plunged it into an unprotected part of the enemy horse’s leg. The horse bucked and the cataphract was thrown off, hitting the dusty ground with a sickening thud.

The soldier yanked his bloodied sword from the enemy horse’s leg and dug his heels into his stirrups. He had no time to look back at the fiery carnage behind him. His steed galloped further and further, until the anguished shouts of battle receded into the distance and the air no longer reeked of suffocating smoke.

He rode into the night following the pathway of the stars, heading northward toward Ishkhandar.