Heir of Manicot

Jistan rode in the center of a large group of armed men and women, along with the Highness who was disguised in a drab brown cloak. His horse was tame and well-trained, but he had only been riding several times in his life, and never for this long or this fast. His thighs and back ached and he was certain his backside was bruised from the constant bouncing gait of his mount. Still, he had never felt so excited in his life.

He was going to see his father and sister. He had been slightly astonished to learn that their secret assignments had been even more wild than his childish imaginings. Arellia had been vague on details, but had revealed that his family members were engaged in a secret war against foreign invaders. Jistan still wasn’t sure how you kept a war secret, but he had no reason or right to doubt Arellia’s word.

By the third day of travel, the entourage crested a tall rise that stretched for miles to either side.

Jistan gaped at what he saw. Sprawled in the valley bellow as far as he could see, an army lay camped. A good number of sturdy permanent structures were surrounded by numerous canvas tents. The clearly defined rings of campfires could be seen sporadically. People milled about, all armed with some weapon or another, completing the many tasks necessary to keep an army running. He thought he caught sight of several large groups running through Will exercises on an open field to his left.

It took him a moment to realize that the others had begun descending into the valley via a series of switchbacks. He gently prodded his horse forward to follow.

***

“Well, look what the vultures dropped in.”

Jistan spun at the unexpected voice, eyes scanning to find the speaker. Then his face broke into a wide grin.

“Karrin!” he exclaimed, bounding to his sister in one leap and nearly knocking her over with the intensity of his embrace.

She laughed, hugging him back with equal enthusiasm. She pulled away first, holding him at arm’s length and examining him with a critical eye.

“You’ve grown up,” she commented. It had been a full year since they had seen each other, and during that time Jistan had outgrown her by several inches.

Jistan grinned. “Yeah, I might not be so easy for you to beat up now.”

She smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

He shook his head in wonder, studying her. She had cut her brown hair short at her chin, and there was a long scar running across her left forearm that he was certain hadn’t been there before. “You’re really part of an army?” he asked.

Her face took on a look of mock-solemnity. “Karrin Mandol, Squad leader of the Mind Scythe, 7th division.”

He blinked. “What in Arkadia’s Halls is a Mind Scythe?”

Her serious façade broke, and she smiled. “You’ll see soon.”

***

Joree ran towards the cries of alarm, heart thundering in his chest. Aniah stumbled after him, calling for him to stop, saying they needed to flee. He ignored her.

Just beyond the school courtyard, mounted figures were charging down one of the dirt paths that led into Ranteel. They nearly trampled several people who were too slow in moving off the path. A local butcher, Crolt, tried to flag them down. A rider passed him and something glinted briefly in the air. Crolt stood for a moment, swaying, and then collapsed. Even at a distance, Joree could see the thick, scarlet blood welling from the deep gash across the butcher’s stomach.

Aniah whimpered, pulling on his arm. “They’re coming for me,” she whispered. “Oh, gods above, they’re coming for me.”

Joree, stunned, took a moment to respond. The riders were coming in his general direction, and he thought he spotted more dark shapes approaching from other paths. Shaking himself, he grabbed Aniah by the elbow and dragged her to the west side of the school building, forcing her to crouch behind some shrubbery and then following suit.

“They’ve come to kill me,” she moaned, eyes closed as she rocked slowly back and forth. “I knew they would. I told her they would find me.”

“Shut up,” Joree snapped, trying to think. “They’re not after you.”

“Yes, they are,” she wailed.

Joree clamped a hand over her mouth and forced her to look at him. “They are not after you,” he said pointedly. “But if you keep up that racket, they will find you anyway, and I doubt they will have any quarrel with putting you out of your misery.”

Her eyes were wide. Slowly, she nodded, and he released her.

She stared at him for a moment, and then sniffed, seeming to regain her usual sense of superiority.

Joree studied the mounted riders as the rode past, cutting down or trampling anyone who got in their way. They were all armed with swords and wore sage-green armor. He could see some sort of insignia on their breastplates, but couldn’t make it out clearly.

“Who are they?” he muttered out loud to himself.

“Kritons,” Aniah replied. He glanced at her briefly.

“What?”

“Kritons,” she repeated. “They are westerners, from the other side of the Gallaton River bordering Manicot.”

“I know who the Kritons are,” he replied flatly. “But how can you be so sure that those are them?”

“I make it my business to know of any enemies to the kingdom,” she said haughtily. “If no one else refuses to protect me, the best I can do is keep myself informed. And the Kritons have been acting against the best interest of Manicot for years now. They must’ve decided to make their move.”

Joree just shook his head. “I doubt they would be stupid enough to charge in and attack the capital city.”

She shrugged. “The Highness,” she practically spat out the title, “has elected to leave us on one of her little trips. That leaves me here undefended, a perfect target.”

Joree sighed, turning to face her fully. “Why in the Flames of Arkadia would they care about you?”

She looked almost offended. “I am the Heir to this nation, farm boy.”

He gave a snort of derision. “You’re delusional is what you are.” He turned back to watch the final riders charge past, hoofs beating against the ground in a wild cacophony. She grabbed his arm as he turned, digging her long nails into his flesh. He glared at her hand.

“I’m no fool,” she hissed. “I am the daughter of Highness Arellia. She deigned it necessary that I grow my Will power by living without palace luxuries for several years.” Her voice grew sarcastic at that last comment. “That has left me vulnerable to attacks. I should be with my mother and her Mind Scythes, safely away from here. But now, the Kritons have come for me. Probably to kill me or use me as ransom. Gods of Arkadia know her Highness will never stoop so low as to save her own daughter, though.”

Joree wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just lie down and give up. She was lying. She had to be. This arrogant, obnoxious girl could not be destined to rule over him someday.

“Well, whoever you are,” he said flatly, “they don’t seem very interested in you.”

She rolled her eyes. “They are heading for my residence, of course. Which is why you have to get me out of this city immediately. Take me north to my mother.”

Joree glared at her. “Listen, Aniah. I don’t care who you say you are, I’m not going to bow and scrape before you. I have my own worries, and right now I need to make sure those murderers haven’t harmed my mother.”

Her gaze hardened. “I should have known. There is no honor in you. You are nothing but a selfish farm boy, too worried about his cattle to see that the fate of the nation is at stake.”

“Yep,” he said, climbing to his feet and brushing off his pants. “And now this farm boy is going to check on his farm. Good luck with the invaders.”

As he strode away, she scrambled after him, making angry strangled noises.

He allowed her to follow him. After all, they probably would have to leave the city. He certainly wasn’t going to stick around while warriors rode through killing people left and right.

He tried to avert his eyes from the scene that lay before him. Several other bodies besides Crolt lay across the path. Some were mangled from being trampled, one other had been slashed across the throat, nearly severing his head. He heard Aniah gag. He nearly wretched himself when he saw the still, twisted form of a child.

“Highness Arellia and her soldiers better get back soon,” he said between clenched teeth. “Because these invaders need removed.”

***

Joree breathed a sigh of relief when he reached his home and found it unharmed. It seemed the rampaging horsemen hadn’t thought it worth their time.

“Mom?” he called, rushing into the house.

A soft voice answered, “I’m here.” His mother cautiously stepped out from the back room a moment later, her face sheet white.

“Are you alright?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

Narissa opened her mouth to answer, but then hesitated as she looked over his shoulder. Aniah had followed him inside and was looking around with disdain.

“What is that smell?” she demanded.

“Probably whatever animal dung you stepped in on your way across the yard,” Joree said dismissively. She made a gagging sound and he forced himself not to smile.

“Mom,” he repeated, stepping forward and taking her shoulders. “What happened?”

Her attention snapped back to him, and for a moment her mouth worked soundlessly. “The-the people-they just came riding past. Joree, they were armed! I didn’t know what to do, I just hid-”

She was rambling, and he hushed her softly. “It’s alright. We’re safe for now.”

Aniah scoffed. “Hardly. They will be back for me any moment.”

And I think I’ll let them have you, Joree thought irritably. But then, they’d probably just give you back.

Narissa still seemed stunned. Joree gently led her to the chair and sat her down. She smiled at him wearily. “I’ll…I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” Aniah whined. “We have to go, before-”

“Aniah,” Joree sighed. “Just shut up.”

Her eyes darkened. “Watch your tongue, citizen.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Citizen’ was the common title for anyone who had no connection to the royal house. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do that,” he replied flatly.

Narissa was giving them a bemused look. “And who is this?” she prompted politely.

“This is Aniah, one of Master Hobar’s students. She was nearby when…when the men came.” His voice broke just slightly at the end, and he cleared his throat, trying to banish the vision of Crolt being cut down, of a mangled child lying dead in the dirt.

Aniah stepped up next to him, trying to get a foot in front of him and push him to the side. He, for his part, didn’t budge, so they ended up standing uncomfortably close, Aniah leaning awkwardly against him, but neither refusing to move.

“I am the daughter of Highness Arellia, and heir to this nation. I am in danger, and must be taken to my mother immediately.”

Joree held back a smirk. Here we go again.

Narissa managed to keep a straight face. “I see,” she said calmly. “And don’t you have royal guards to take you?”

Aniah threw her hands in the air. “I should, shouldn’t I? But no, mother said. I had to learn to live without luxury or protection. It was the only way to ensure I would be strong, she said.” She made a disgusted noise. “But now here I am, completely vulnerable.”

“You have Will,” Joree pointed out. “It got you through six rounds of the Power Duels. I’d say that’s pretty good.”

She made a dismissive hand gesture. “Using Will in a tournament is one thing. Nobody is actually trying to kill you. I can’t risk using Will against a real opponent. If they have strong Will, they will simply overpower me. If not, they may be able to get in a good stab before I can disable them fully. I am too important to risk.”

“Well,” Narissa said, voice perfectly reasonable, “if no one in Ranteel knows who you are, how could these enemies possibly know?”

Aniah hesitated, looking as though she hadn’t considered that. “I don’t know,” she finally said sourly. “But I’m sure they have come for me. Now is the perfect time, when my mother is not here to protect me.”

“Arellia has left many, many times before this,” Joree pointed out.

“Never before has she taken all of her personal guard and top Will Masters,” Aniah whispered. Suddenly, she seemed to shrink in on herself, and Joree realized she was genuinely terrified.

“How do you know who she took?” Joree asked. “It’s not as if she made a public announcement.”

“She visited me,” Aniah snapped, a faint tremor still in her voice. “Told me that she expected me to train hard in the coming days.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “She said she was leaving, and taking the warriors that were ‘ready’ with her. She made it clear that I was still not ‘worthy’.”

“Warriors?” Joree asked. “Ready? Ready for what?”

Aniah finally gave up on trying to barge in front of him and stomped away, noticed there was nowhere to go, then simply stood sulking in the corner. “Ready to fight the Delani,” she hissed.

“The…what?” Joree had never heard of anything or anyone called ‘Delani’.

“You wouldn’t know about them,” Aniah said, a small superior smirk on her face. “Arellia doesn’t tell citizens. But since you are not inclined to help me, I suppose I need to give you incentive. We are at war with a bloodthirsty group of monsters called the Delani. For years, Arellia has cycled the most powerful people into the war, training them in Will and weaponry.” Suddenly, her lips puckered as if she had tasted something sour. “With my natural talent, I should’ve been taken long ago, trained as a Will Master or squad director.”

Joree just stared at her blankly. “You really are insane, aren’t you?” he finally said.

She strode towards him furiously, crossing the small room in three strides and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen here, you Will-less piece of scum.”

Joree grabbed her wrist and pushed it away as she tried to poke him again. “I have been listening,” he said calmly. “And now I’m done.”

“Joree.” Narissa’s voice was soft. When he turned to face her, she looked pale, almost stricken.

“Mom?” He went down on one knee before her. She met his eyes, but then looked away.

“What she says is true,” Narissa whispered. “There is a group called the Delani. I have seen them. They are…strange, Joree.”

Joree gaped. “What-how-”

She took his hand. “If this girl knows about them, she probably is who she says she is. If that is true, you need to get her to safety.”

A million questions raced through his mind, but his mouth couldn’t form any of them into words.

She squeezed his hand gently. “The Kritons have long been looking for a way to get the upper hand over Manicot. I saw the crest those horsemen were wearing. It is the golden crescent. Even if they do not know exactly who the heir is, it is entirely possible that they could know she is in Ranteel, and they could be searching for her.”

“Yes,” Aniah said fervently. “Yes, of course!.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” Joree exclaimed.

Narissa smiled sadly. “You know the lay of the land nearby and are experienced with the forests beyond Ranteel. You know how to hunt and forage and you are strong. Besides,” her smile deepened, “you cannot be hurt by mind attacks.”

He frowned. “You talk like you aren’t coming with me.”

She patted his shoulder. “I would only slow you down. I am relatively safe here, I think. But you have to go.”

“I won’t leave you,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m safer if you take her,” she pointed to Aniah, “as far away from me as possible. And I doubt she’s willing to risk the wilderness by herself.”

Joree smiled wryly. Before he could respond, Aniah was clapping her hands together.

“Well then, it’s all settled. Joree, with power invested in me as the Heir of Manicot, I pronounce you my escort and my protector.”

Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, joy.”