The Inheritor of Light

Matters of State (Part One)

"Varas? What are you doing here?" Sãra asked, surprised by the appearance of the man.

"I had just returned from the excavations when news came to us that you had never arrived at Cascorida."

"You know this man?" Johnathan stepped between Sãra and Varas.

"Yes, he is . . . I mean, we are . . . betrothed," Sãra admitted.

"I am Varas-zaron, eldest son of Traish-xelosh—may his reign be eternal—inheritor of the Red Oasis and crown prince of Trivara. Who might you be?" Varas sneered down at Johnathan.

"My name is Johnathan Black, maker of fortune and bodyguard of the wealthy, or something like that," Johnathan replied smugly.

"Black?" Varas repeated quizzically.

"So you've heard of me? I never knew my escapades had made the news in Trivara—not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Varas's face changed to a look of contempt. "Yes, I have heard of you . . . Guards! Take this man!" Varas thrust a finger at Johnathan.

However, before Johnathan could act, two guards appeared from out of the shadows and streaked towards Johnathan. Sãra barely had time to step out of the way before the two men were on him. Each took an arm and wrenched it back, and with a hand on each shoulder, forced him to his knees before Varas.

Johnathan looked up, confused. "Look, anything bad you've heard about me is lies, slanderous lies. If it's about the girl, I didn't do anything with her. Ow! Fine, forget about my payment. Let me go, and we'll call it even."

Varas reached down and grabbed Johnathan's face. He looked him straight in the eyes. Varas's were cold and full of disgust; Johnathan's were hot and burned with defiance. Varas suddenly shoved Johnathan's head to the side and stood up straight. "This has nothing to do with my betrothed nor about wealth due. This is about my men whom you killed in cold-blooded murder."

"What? What are you even talking about?" Johnathan asked.

Varas began to pace back and forth on the step. "Not six months ago, four of my men were out . . . patrolling, and you slew them like a common murderer. When they were found dead, I sent more men to investigate the matter, and found some witnesses who named you as the culprit." He punctuated his final accusation by thrusting his finger at Johnathan.

"Johnathan?" Sãra murmured.

For a moment Johnathan seemed even more perplexed, but then he furrowed his brow in contemplation. After a minute, his look of defiance returned. "You're right; I remember them now," he affirmed. "But I don't remember any soldiers of Trivara. No, what I remember, is a group of drunks about to kill a bar keeper for trying to kick them out. Maybe if your men had more discipline, then nothing would have ever happened."

"You admit it so casually? To me? To slay soldiers of Trivara is a sentence of death; you must not value your life as much as I thought."

"You're wrong. I just know what cards I've got in my hand. I suppose I'll be leaving now." Johnathan smiled mischievously and then opened both his hands. Nothing happened. Johnathan relaxed them and then opened them again—still nothing. "Uh . . . well . . . that's not supposed to be how this goes," Johnathan admitted.

"I suppose you're wondering why your powers are not working?" Varas began to pace the step he was on. "You see, I also heard something interesting about you. I heard you were one of the so called 'elementalists'—not that I know too much about your barbarian arts. I was lucky enough to find someone with something that could remove your advantage." He stopped and turned on his heels toward Johnathan. "And so, I was given this." Varas reached into his garments, and from them, he pulled out a pendant attached to a chain. The pendant itself was a black crystal, which seemed to unnaturally dim the light around it.

"An anti-elemental crystal of darkness? That's real cheap," Johnathan let his head hang in defeat.

"It's only fair," Varas replied. "With your powers, I'd have no way to hold you. This evens the field. However, I did not expect you to come to me. Qrir must be smiling down upon me for such bountiful fortune to come my way." Varas reached to his side and drew a long, curved blade. He leveled it at Johnathan's head. "Your life is mine." He was about to raise the blade when Sãra caught his hand.

"Varas, you do know that this man is a citizen of this land and, as such, is granted all the rights entitled to him?"

Varas wrenched his hand from hers. "What of it?" he asked with a scowl.

"He has the right to a trial, whether or not he has admitted his guilt. It will be the magistrate who decides his fate, not you." Sãra matched Varas's look with one of her own.

Varas was the first to avert his gaze. "Fine," he began, sheathing his sword. "Getting blood all over this floor would be a waste anyways. Take him to the dungeon and make sure this," he tossed the pendant to one of the guards, "is kept near him at all times."

One of the guards gruffly bound Johnathan's hands and then pulled him to his feet. Just as they were leading him away, Johnathan looked at Sãra with an uncharacteristically serious face. "Good luck with this bastard, princess. If you actually decide to stay, you'll deserve him." The guard behind him shoved him forwards, almost knocking him off balance. "Alright, alright, I'm going."