For Lord and Land

For Lord and Land
By: Delilah deSora
Chapter 4

**

. . . and all that I am . . .

**

“So they did not fhim?him?” Dorjan asked, leaning back in the hard chair.

Errol shook his head, laying the reports down before him. “No. They found nearly three times as many Llyrs as we had but none of them exhibited the signs of being the Leviathan.”

Dorjan cursed. “Add the new Llyrs to our records and see if we can’t get a family tree drawn up. He must be out there. The power is always transferred to someone else and it has had plenty of time to manifest.”

“What . . . what if he is one oe ote other lands?” Errol asked, chewing lightly on the edge of his quill.

“No, he couldn’t be. He controls water. He needs to be near it. He won’t be comfortable anywhere else but in Aquilae. Even if his family moved him he would have to return.”

Errol frowned. “But, all the Leviathans in the past have staid here.” He pointed out.

Dorjan snorted. “That’s because they can’t go home. Be that as it may a special chamber had to built for them. They need to have a constant source of water, just like our Emperor needs to have a fire blazing in his room, even in the middle of summer. I doubt our Leviathan has the money required to build such a thing so he must return to a source of water and where better than the land of water itself?”

Errol sighed, stacking the papers in his hands. “Cian and Dante didn’t check the islands. Should I send them there to look as well?”

Dorjan nodded. “Yes. I would have you go with them as well.”

“Me?” Errol asked, wide eyed.

His superior smiled darkly. “Not afraid of a little boat ride are you?”

“It\'s not the little boat ride that makes me nervous. It\'s that ridiculous amount of water it sits on.” Errol admitted.

“I know, my friend, but we’re running out of time. As soon you find the Leviathan I need you to drag him back here. We’ll worry about covering his presence up later.”

“I’m sure our Kaemons can handle that.”

Dorjan shook his head. “No they can’t. He’s one of their own, remember? They might be able to dig him up but they’ll never be able to drag him kicking and screaming onto a boat and back here.”

Errol snorted. “I don’t know, I’ve seen Cian do a fair bit of dragging in his day.” He sighed in defeat. “When do you want us to leave?”

“Immediately.”

**

Dorjan frowned deeply, watching the Emperor being clothed in layers upon layers of silk. “When did this happen?” He hissed.

Kaze shrugged. “A few hours ago. He just woke up and decided that he needed to call court.”

“Damn.” Dorjan growled as the servants began stringing the long red hair around the golden crown nestled on the Emperor’s head. “Has the word already been sent out?”

Kaze nodded, his silver hair slipping over his shoulder and catching on the golden buttons of his uniform. “The lords have already begun to show up. Everyone’s excited about his return to court.”

“Why did no one call me?” He demanded.

“Because they were busy doing the Emperor’s bidding. He’s been issuing orders right and left. If you ask me this might be a good thing. We’ve all been cooling our heels for too long. Fulfilling our duty after so long might be good for all of us. It’s certainly good to see him up and about after such a long illness.”

Dorjan frowned deeply. “We shall see.” He turned on his heel and stormed down the hall until he reached the audience room. True to Kaze’s word almost all of the seats were filled with more lords of the realm arriving by the minute. He wondered which one would catch the Emperor’s eye. Which one would be the one they dragged out in the middle of the night? Which one would discover the fallibility of their god?

He took his place at the Emperor’s table, waiting silently for his Emperor’s arrival. He prayed with all his might that the night would go by without a hitch. Ardel’s strength was failing him, his resilience fading and Dorjan hoped desperately for an early night.

The official story, shared only with those close enough to realize that something was wrong, was that the Emperor had been suffering a bout of illness. Just a small touch of something but enough that they feared for his continued health.

Not, perhaps, something that a god should suffer from but with their former Emperor only five years dead Dorjan felt that it wouldn’t harm the view if people remembered that the Emperor existed in a mortal body.

He stood as the doors at the end of the chamber were flung open and Ardel strode through. He smiled brightly at the fawning courtiers, reaching out to ghost his fingers near theirs but never touching. Aidan’s rarely made physical contact with others. Gods above touching the mortals they ruled over.

The maroon robes of state flared about his thin form and made his skin look at the more pale. His red hair had been braided away from his face and his eyes shone with an inner fire that made Dorjan nervous. Their eyes met and Dorjan clearly saw the sneer leveled his way. He refused to respond to it or show any reaction at all. If the Emperor sensed fear in him his life would be forfeit.

Ardel took his seat and called the court to session. He seemed to revel in the praises lauded on him and more than once Dorjan caught the green eyes glancing over to judge his reaction, as though to prove a point that only the Emperor seemed to comprehend.

He was grateful for Kaze’s continued presence over the Emperor’s shoulder. The silver haired guard seemed to be the only man Ardel could stand near him. He was the only one the Emperor still listened to. Dorjan wasn’t sure why but he suspected that the man’s foreign heritage had something to do with it.

Kaze was from Ventae, the lands that bordered Ardae to the east. Its people were all fair-haired and dark skinned. Ventaen ways were strange to Ardians but Kaze’s airy gestures and soft accent seemed to calm Ardel. It was the reason he had been promoted to Captain of the Guard at such a young age. There were others that were better fighters and more decorated but only Kaze had the Emperor’s full trust.

Sometimes it made Dorjan nervous about their closeness but he had never sensed that the silver haired guardian had knowledge he shouldn’t, nor did he ever sense any danger from the soft-spoken man. He’d often wondered what would bring a Ventaen so far from the plains of his homeland and Kaze had admitted that he had fled the internal conflict among the royal family.

Apparently the man had some faint connections to the old deposed family that was currently fighting for its right to exist. Kaze had simply shrugged and explained that he had a better chance of surviving in a foreign court then hiding in some bush and lying about his heritage.

Ardel over saw a few minor problems between some of the lords and Dorjan was secretly glad for Errol’s foresight in having all major problems redirected for someone else’s decisions. Ardel’s rulings were erratic and he favored those that came before him loudly shouting their case over those who were meeker, even when the meeker person was clearly in the right. But each decision was met with claps and exclamations over the Emperor’s wisdom, nobody ever thinking that perhaps the fire god sitting on the dais above them might be wrong.

Dorjan closed his eyes and silently sent his prayers to Errol. He could clearly recognize the warning signs. Irratic behavior, the strengthening of his powers, the decent into animalism, favoring strength over thought. They were losing their lord and if they did not find a way to cure him soon, someone was going to lose their land and their lives.

Had it not happened in the past? Had Aquilae not lost their land to Emperor Saraes? Had Glacae not lost half of its own lands? Had Ventae not been immersed in a civil war due to Ardel’s own father losing his first Leviathan?

Would Ardel not finish his father’s work if given the chance?

Dorjan gritted his teeth and stared at the lounging emperor and stiff guard. Would Ventae become just another jewel in Ardae’s crown? He wondered what soft spoken Kaze would think of that.

**

Dante bit back a laugh as he watched his superior grip the edges of the hull so hard his knuckles were white. Errol looked like he was about to pass out and fall overboard as he stared bleary eyed over the vast expanse of ocean. Sandy hair lay limp on the sunburned head and the formerly pristine knight looked like he had been drug through most of the trip behind the boat.

The crew of the ship was taking a vicious sort of delight in the Knight’s misery as well, though they were careful to keep their snickers well away from Dante or Cian’s hearing after Cian had verbally torn into the first unfortunately sailor that had joked about it in the open. His older brother seemed immune to the joys of being out on the open sea and spent most of his time locked away in their cabin, going over the maps and routes they would need to take to hunt down their missing Llyr.

Let him, Dante mused as he fingered the new trinkets on his uniform, marking him as a full Knight of Aidan, all the more ocean for me to enjoy. Earlier that day he had taken a quick swim when the wind had left them stranded on a dead sea. He’d splashed around with the rest of crew and even tried to get Errol to join t Err Errol had politely declined and then reminded him that if he drowned the Knighthood would not be giving him a hero’s funeral, rather they’d bury him in the garden with the other disgraced bodies. They’d all laughed over that before Errol had turned a fascinating shade of green and rushed to the other side of the boat.

“Don’t worry, my lord, we’re almost there. We should sight land by early tomorrow morning.” He said, handing his superior a cool cloth.

Errol took it thankfully and pressed it against his face. “God, we’ve got to sail back as well don’t we?”

Dante laughed softly and leaned against the rail. “Don’t worry, eventually you’ll get your sea legs.”

“I’m more interested in getting my sea stomach. I haven’t eaten anything since we got on this floating death trap and my body still finds things to make me heave.”

Dante made a noncommittal sound and closed his eyes, lifting his face to the breeze. The scent of the ocean calmed his mind and the rocking of the sea beneath him threatened to relax him into sleep.

“You really do like this don’t you?”

He opened his eyes to find Errol studying him. Smiling softly he nodded. “I love it. My mother used to take me for long walks near the ocean when I was a baby and she used to sing songs that seemed to be liked the flow of the waves themselves. Did you know I learned to swim before I even learned to walk?”

“Really? Well I’ll remember that when I fall overboard.”

They laughed over that and lapsed into a companionable silence. Dante shifted slightly and peered down at the Ardean hesitantly be voi voicing his next words. “What . . . what is going to happen to the Llyr when we find him?”

Errol shrugged. “We’ll escort him back to the palace and take him before the Emperor.”

“But then what? Why does the Emperor want to see him?”

Brown eyes studied him reproachfully. “It is not for us to ask, Dante. You know that.”

Dante sighed. “I know. It’s just that I feel somewhat responsible for him, I guess. We’re going to crash into his world and take him to a place unlike any place he’s ever been before. Yeah, he gets to meet the Emperor and that is a wonderful thing but . . . I just want to make sure that he’ll be alright. That he’ll get back home where he can tell everyone about his good fortune.”

Errol stared up at him and smiled softly. He reached out and clasped Dante’s shoulder firmly. “You’re a good man. There are many who wouldn’t even think so far ahead, let alone for a person they’ve never met.”

Dante flushed and shrugged, embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t worry, Dante. The Emperor takes care of his people. I’m sure this Llyr will be fine.”

He sighed and stared out over the ocean. “I hope so, my lord.”

**

As he had predicted they sighted land at dawn and by mid-afternoon they were rounding the first of the large oval islands that made up Aquilae’s extended island keys. They disembarked and found a cheap inn where Errol gratefully washed away the layer of film the ocean breeze had deposited on his skin. The heat of the sun convinced them to strip off the formal uniform and adopt the bright scarves and billowing clothes of the natives.

Dante reveled in the feel of the soft cloth against his skin and laughed to himself at Errol’s constant fidgeting. He claimed he felt too exposed in the clothes though they actually covered more skin than their own uniforms. He quieted though at the knowledge that he would burn less in the thin cloth and be infinitely cooler.

They made a half hearted attempt to interview the local inhabitants about the Llyrs and called an early night so Errol could have a large dinner and sleep off the last of his travel sickness. Dante sat outside, watching young children gather the night fish that came close to shore to stay in the sun warmed water to mate as the deeper depths cooled. He remembered nights of doing the same with his friennighnights that ended with him and Sibley doing some mating of their own in abandoned dunes.

He laughed softly to himself, wondering what Errol or even stern Lord Dorjan would think of such activities. Surely tussling in the sand with a sea eyed lover was beneath a Knight’s code of conduct. Dante shook his head sadly. He hoped his former lover was still engaged in such activities. Sibley needed someone to care for him. He needed someone to fawn over him day and night. He needed someone who would understood the visions that would sometimes drag him out of a quiet nighsleesleep and hold him quietly as his fragile heart ceased racing.

A shrill scream dragged him out of his thoughts and his head jerked up sharply. Out in the tide he saw a tiny form waving frantically before it was yanked backwards into the water. He gasped and stood, jumping from the bal of of the inn and hitting the sandy beach at a run.

He stripped off his scarf and shirt, leaving the torn cloth to flutter in his wake as he dove into the water. Surfacing he heard his brother’s calls to come back but he ignored them as his powerful arms propelled him out into the black water. The child surfaced a few feet ahead of him, screams issuing from water-laden lungs befoe wae was jerked back down by the lethal undertow. A few seconds later Dante felt the water wrap about his legs and he grimaced as it jerked him under.

All children were taught not to go out in the water after dark. When the moon rose the tide shifted, drawing the water back to the ocean and creating a flow that could pin a man under the waves and drag him halfwo Aqo Aquilae, or the islands before it ever let him resurface. But sometimes a dare became too personal between young boys to ignore and some foolish child would tip toe into the forbidden

He let the swift current of water carry him towards where he had last seen the child, begging it to hurry. When his sight failed him he closed his eyes and reached with his senses, looking for anything that felt foreign to the water around him. He felt something and shot towards it. His hands encountered soft flesh and he drug the child to him. Opening his eyes he brought the child’s mouth to his and breathed air into the depraved lungs.

The child began to fight against him but he held tight, letting the child take his breath until the little body began to breath evenly. Careful to keep the connection between them tight he reached out and willed the current to change. He felt the water pause and he coaxed it until it reversed, pushing them back towards the shore.

After what seemed like an eternity t hea heads broke the surface and Dante pulled away from the child, shaking the water from his eyes. He lifted the trembling body and trudged from the sea. He released the boy, telling him to be more careful and the children disappeared into the night. Turning he found himself the recipient of his brother’s guarded stare.

“Cian?” He asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. “You should be dead.”

Dante winced to himself. Just over his brother’s shoulder he could see Lord Errol coming towards them. “It wasn’t that bad . . .”

“You were under long enough for a man to drown five times over, yet you stand here like nothing is wrong!”

“Cian . . .” He hissed, hoping to silence his brother as their superior approached within hearing.

“What’s going on?” Errol demanded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I heard shouting.”

Dante stiffened as his brother straightened and stepped back away from him. He saw some kind of decision being made in his brother’s blue eyes but didn’t understand what. He reached out but Cian shrank away from him, coming to stand next to the confused Errol.

“I have found him, my lord.” Cian replied through stiff lips.

Errol frowned. “Found who?”

“The one we’re looking for. The man that can breathe under water. The one that can control the ocean. The Llyr that the Emperor wishes to see.”

Dante shook his head laughing nervously. “Come on, Cian. I’m not a Llyr.”

Blue eyes remained guarded and Dante’s laugh fell away at his next words. “Our mother is.”

Dante blinked helplessly. “Mother?” He whispered.

“It\'s why father married her. To protect her family. To protect the Llyrs. They were being killed because people thought them traitors. Father gave them a chance to prove their loyalty to Ardae by granting him their daughter for his wife.”

Errol studied him silently and Dante stared at his brother in surprise. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

“Cian, go back to the room and gather our things.”

Cian bowed stiffly at Errol’s order and turned his back on his brother, walking away. Dante watched him go silently, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. He started when his superior came towards him.

“I am sorry, Dante, bumustmust do this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what when a sharp pain flooded his stomach where a tiny sliver of metal gleaned. He touched his stomach and peered up at his attacker in confusion as darkness flooded over him.

**

Strong hands held him still as his form was draped in silk. Waves of deep blue fabric caught the firelight and reflected it like the waters of a slow moving stream and golden sea dragons, Leviathans he reminded himself, winked before diving back into the oceans of blue.

His hands were plunged into warm oil and held there for a time before being removed. Sand glued to paper was put to work rubbing away thars ars of calluses that toughened his skin and allowed him to wield a sword or bow without bleeding. Blue eyes watched silently as they disappeared, leaving only soft pink skin in their wake. Again and again his hands were plunged into the oil only to be removed and held up to the light for examination.

When a young girl who had obviously never lifted a finger to do any type of work in her life had declared his skin smooth enough the small army of servants gestured and he was dragged to the ground so they could do the same to his feet.

New hands caught in his black hair, tugging his head back. He saw the glint of fire along the edge of a knife and he winced as it was dragged along his face and neck, removing any hair in its wake. The hands in his hair disappeared and the blue robe was opened across his chest so that the blade to could be applied there as well.

Snarling in indignation the man twisted in his captors’ hands but c not not dislodge them. Instead of the blow he had expected a cloth was pressed against his face. A sickeningly sweet smell filled his head, making the world move strangely and he blinked furiously to clear his vision. The strength left his muscles and he lay pliant as the blade moved lower. He tensed mentally, expecting to feel the bite of metal in flesh but no pain came. Just the steady movement as the grim faced servant removed any hair he found. He blushed as the blade graced even his legs.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, his slack body being manipulated by guards as servants came. They dabbed oil along his newly shaven skin and rubbed flowers in his hair. Whenever the lethargy began to wear off a new cloth would be pressed to his face and he was once again dragged under the spell of the drug.

A dark haired man and a blond he knew he should recognize appeared, speaking in words he could not comprehend through the haze before the blond departed. The dark haired man gestured and he found himself being propped up and held in strong arms as he was examined like some prized animal at a market.

With a snarl he tried to jerk away from the guard holding him but he could not find the strength to stand on his own. The dark haired man peered into his eyes.

“Who are you?”

He struggled to fathom the words, to find the meaning he knew they should possess.

The dark haired man reached out and slapped him. The sharp pain chased away the lethargy and he lashed out, causing the guard holding him to stumble back.

“Who are you?” The man, a man he had once respected, asked again, stepping to the side to reveal the door.

With a dark look he straightened and forced himself to ignore how exposed he felt in the thin robe, how every movement caused it to outline the planes of his body. Throwing back his hair he glared at the dark haired general.

“You know who I am.” He spat.

Dorjan frowned and Dante cried out as he was struck again.

“Who are you?”

Dante glared up at him, licking at the trail of blood that ran from his mouth. “Dante Kaemon.” He growled.

The general shook his head. “Dante Kaemon is dead. His body had been sent home to be in tin the ground after he died tragically. There is no more Dante Kaemon. Who are you?”

Dante closed his eyes against the pain. His order had betrayed him. His brother had turned him over to slavery. For what? For a lord that was not their lord. For a land that was not theirs. He snarled in rage and beat his fist against the stone floor.

“What do you want from me?” He screamed, glaring up at the man before.

“To be what you were born to be,” Dorjan replied, “to help this land. To help your people.”

Dante laughed humorlessly. “You just told me I was dead. What people do I have now, my lord?”

Brown eyes caught and held his. “The same people you were willing to die for before. Who are you?”

They stared at each other for a time until Dante forced himself up. He straightened his shoulders and glared at the man before him.

“Dante Llyr.” He growled and walked past him towards the wooden door.

“The Leviathan.” He replied strongly, filling the room with the power of his voice.

This destiny was not one Dante Kaemon would ever have chosen for himself but if it meant protecting those he once loved it was his and as Dante Llyr he was going to fulfill it to the best of his ability.

He had sworn once to give up everything and destiny had chosen to take it all. Though it was not to his liking he would not go back on his word. He had finally found the answer to the final question every Knight of Aidan was asked before given their title. He would sacrifice everything for his lord and land.

Everything.

With a firm hand he reached out, opening the door, and stepped through to meet his destiny.