‘Fahren will be Throne,’ he said, turning away from the window, ‘because I will it to be so.’
They stared at him.
‘Who will argue with me?’ he said. ‘I, the champion of the gods? Do you think any would dare?’
Behind him, through the window, the light seemed to shine a little brighter.
‘Perhaps,’ he continued, ‘when Arkus appeared to Fahren and me, he even told us that Fahren must accept the Throneship should anything befall Naphur – reluctantly, but for the greater good? Can anyone claim otherwise? The blue-haired man needs strong men behind him, and who is stronger than the Grand High Mage?’
There was an awed look in their eyes as they listened, and he knew he was convincing them.
‘Would you defy me?’ he asked. ‘Would you defy the will of Arkus? Do I even need to explain myself to you ?’
It was clearly a rehearsal for the case Bel would make before the Sun Court, but it was effective nonetheless.
‘It is no small thing to include the Sun God in a lie,’ said Fahren hesitantly.
Bel drew his sword, and it blazed in the light that streamed through the window.
‘Does it look as if he has a problem with it?’ he said.
In With the Old
The Sun Court atop the Open Castle was the fullest Fahren had ever seen it. Word had spread that two things of great import would occur here this day: the formal introduction of the blue-haired man and the appointment of the new Throne. The Open Castle was always full of representatives from the various states of Kainordas – Borgordus, Centrus, Dennali, Cindeka and Tria – but it was rare that all of them would be in attendance at the same time. Bodies crowded almost to the very edge, the lack of any wall or rail making some of the jostlers nervous, despite the magic that stopped anyone falling. Even the carpet from the stairwell to the dais, where the golden throne Borgordusmae stood shining, was packed.
Fahren began by introducing Bel to the court, which went smoothly enough. He spoke of how Bel had been kept in hiding until the time had come to show him to the world. There was some dissent over whether hiding Bel for so long had been wise, but Fahren pointed out there was little point in objecting to things that had already come to pass, and that the people should now rejoice upon hearing the good news. He moved on quickly to speak of how Arkus had appeared to Bel and himself, to give them directives, although he was deliberately unclear about when this had happened, whether it had occurred before or after Naphur’s death. He also did not go into specifics about Bel’s mission – the less public knowledge there was of that, the better.
‘And now,’ Fahren said, ‘to the matter of the Throneship.’
Thedd Naphur emerged from the crowd, smiling expectantly. He moved towards High Overseer Varta, who waited by the throne with the Auriel in her hands. It was cruel, in a way, that they had not warned Thedd of their intentions – but better to catch him by surprise lest he organise some defence.
Bel strode between Varta and Thedd, halting the man’s progress. Gerent Brahl also appeared, though next to the blue-haired man little attention was paid to him. There were murmurs of confusion, and people craned their necks to see.
‘My apologies, lord,’ said Bel, not sounding sorry at all. ‘Our orders from Arkus extend also to the Throneship.’
Thedd faltered, then drew himself up haughtily. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘He spoke, in his wisdom, of where certain pieces need to be in place to ensure the maximum chance of defeating the shadow. You have a part to play too, oh Trusted Naphur – to rally the troops of your home state of Tria.’
‘That should be easy enough,’ said Thedd. ‘Our soldiers are loyal and strong, and who are they to refuse the man who was once their Trusted, now their Throne?’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Bel. ‘Arkus charges that the Throneship go to another.’
‘What?’ spat Thedd, for a moment all decorum gone. He struggled to suppress his temper. ‘With all due respect, Blade Bel, the Throneship is my birthright.’
‘These are trying times,’ put in Gerent Brahl stoically. ‘Sacrifices must be made. The world is changing, and we must change with it, lest we be defeated. It is sad indeed that the traditions of so many centuries must be abandoned.’
He sounded as if he really meant it, but Thedd was not finished. Some of his friends moved behind him, shooting dark glances around as if they thought themselves more formidable than they actually were.
‘In such trying times ,’ said Thedd, appealing to the court in general, ‘we need unity. This is not the time to muddy the waters with desperate plays for power, whether or not they come from the blue-haired man. I mean no offence,’ he turned to Bel, ‘but you are young, and perhaps not well versed in the ways of politics.’
Bel’s amber–gold eyes flashed brilliantly in the blazing sun. ‘Do you dare defy Arkus?’ he asked menacingly. ‘Do you doubt his wisdom? If so then it is you , Thedd Naphur, who works against unity, by condoning the betrayal of our god!’
The court fell silent. Thedd opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to summon any words. He looked to his supporters, who glanced amongst themselves uncertainly. It was a perfect plan, really, thought Fahren. Thedd wasn’t left with a leg to stand on – he could hardly rebuff the blue-haired man, the High Mage, the Gerent of Borgordus and the Sun God they claimed to represent.
‘Well then,’ snarled Thedd, ‘who does Arkus say should be the Throne, if not the rightful heir? You, I suppose?’
‘No,’ said Bel, and Fahren stiffened. He did not look forward to what was coming. It was for the greater good, he told himself, and Arkus had seemed to give his blessing – or had that merely been light shining through a window?
‘The High Mage Fahren,’ said Bel, ‘is powerful and wise. We face terrible magic from my counterpart, and it makes sense that we have one who can match him. That is what Arkus has willed.’
‘But …but …’ Thedd rallied. ‘Fahren already has responsibility, as the Grand High Mage. He can still fight this counterpart of yours.’
Bel did not budge, but folded his muscular arms across his broad chest, emanating resolve. Looking at him now, Fahren reflected, it was easy to be awed. It was easy to believe.
‘It is,’ said Bel, sounding out each word clearly, ‘ what Arkus has willed . And there is a simple enough way to prove so to the disbelieving, which you know well enough, Thedd Naphur – by placing the crown upon Fahren’s head.’
Fahren saw signs of relief in the court, for which he was thankful. No doubt many of the nobles thought that Bel would attempt to seize power and, despite the colour of his hair, he was still a young man they knew little about. Fahren, on the other hand, was a familiar authority, and they had taken plenty of orders from him over the years. There was an acceptance from them that Fahren could feel with his well-tuned empathic senses.
Thedd was forced to retreat with a glower that Fahren suspected would live on in his heart for a long time to come. Bel and Brahl stepped aside, gesturing at Fahren to approach Varta. Trying not to seem hesitant, he forced his feet to take him to her, and knelt. She nodded at him, then raised her voice to speak a prayer to Arkus, which he only heard with half an ear. Above him she held the Auriel, glinting, and he watched it descend with a sense of dread. Then she set it upon his head.
For the slightest moment it hung loosely – if it did not accept him, their lies would be exposed. Despite this, he would have been relieved had it fallen loose and static upon his brow – but instead, with faint nausea, he felt it tighten. The gold ‘rays’ of sun that protruded from it burrowed into his hair, adhering to the contours of his scalp, proving that Arkus accepted him as leader of the light and making it impossible for any to deny. Even him.