Chapter Text
(Written by Spiced Wine)
The servants stepped back, Khanad nodded a dismissal and crooked a brow toward Gthar, who was sitting back upon a couch piled high with cushions. There was more color in his face now, and the physicians reported that he was healing well but needed rest. Today that rest would be enforced by his being carried on a palanquin, much to the his disgust. But, his son had stated, it was either that or he must remain here and not for all Arda would Gthar miss the crowning of the new King.
It would be a break from ancient tradition from the start. Khanad had lodged the night before in the home of General Kariss at the garrison and would ride through Tanith. Before this, any who wished to see the ruler must climb the hill to the palace and hope to glimpse him going to hunt or being carried to the arena. The Emir had not gone among his people, but Khanad would ride through the city to the arena. This was still massively damaged from the fall of the statue, but mason's had assured Khanad it had been made safe and those who wished might see him crowned there before he removed to the palace.
Taraluk's rooms had been gutted by the fire which raged the night of his death, but even had they been whole, Khanad had no desire to inhabit them. He had taken the older west wing for his private chambers.
The days since his return had been filled with preparation. The nobles had flocked to him assuring him of their loyalty, and he smiled grimly, knowing that not one of them had spoken up when he had been arrested. But they could not be blamed, they had families also. Time would tell. Appointments would be made and would be subject to change as he settled into his rule.
The crowning itself had been arranged in a hurry, for Khanad wished Elphir and Anwyn to be here. He had ordered his own private ship sail them back to Dol Amroth, and they would carry letters to Prince Imrahil and also King Elessar. Khanad had taken the words of the golden Elf seriously. Tanith might be very remote from those northern realms, but that did not mean a relationship could not be established.
In a flurry of quill strokes, as candles burned, the prince went through official documents and struck through everything pertaining to 'God-King' 'Most High' or 'Emir' he would take the title of King.
Now, a compliment of Royal Guards waited to lead his escort and Gthar rose carefully from his seat. Beside him, and supporting him without seeming to, Aiana, in violet and blue, sapphires glinting, looked at her lover in awe.
If he was her lover now. Certainly he had given her private chambers, not put her among the seraglio women and she was served as if she were a princess, but in the roar of preparation, they had hardly spoken. He had her brought to his rooms, where Gthar also sat, who attempted to teach her Tar while Khanad, head bent over a great desk, worked on a pile of documents.
But her heart leaped as she let her eyes linger on him. He looked a warrior-king, his tunic, breeches and boots, more resembled the attire of the Elves than the voluminous robes Taraluk and his court had favored. The materials and cut were superb, but without ostentation and showed his tall form to great advantage. His eyes were very bright.
She made a low reverence and backed away, only halting when he hand came out and caught her arm.
''Where are you going? Ride with my father.''
''But it is not fitting, Sire.'' She was startled, and her head jerked up.
''You are my favoured.'' She would almost have wagered the very fine gems she wore that there was a laugh in his words. ''I wish every-one to know that.'' His hand came under her chin and then he kissed her. ''Would you miss my crowning, lady?''
''No!'' She gasped through tears and laughter. ''Oh no, sire!''
She sat on the palanquin, carried above the heads of a roaring crowd as petals, ribbons and fragrant herbs were tossed into the path of the horses. People hung from windows, climbed onto flat roofs, jostled and reached forward, waving and calling out Khanad's name. It was as noisy as the crowds of the arena, but there was a different quality to this, and not the least of it was relief. The talk of Gods and Goddesses on the island, in Tanith, was too large to be grasped by many, but they knew that She was gone. The island now lay bare and empty under the sun and not a few had spat in its direction, then cursed and wept for people lost. But She was gone, the emir was dead and his much-feared Spy-master, and Khanad, who had ever been popular with the people and the army, was about to be crowned their King.
Aiana was overwhelmed. As she looked out over the bay remembering the desperate – and, in retrospect, oddly sweet – days in the lightless prison, she held an arm protectively against her belly, and jumped when Gthar's hand touched her arm.
''Does he know?''
''My lord?''
''Does he know you carry his child?'' Gthar's eyes crinkled at the corners and Aiana's own rounded.
''How do you know?''
''Your maids say you have been sick this last week, and asked for ginger and honey tisanes for nausea. I have seen enough breeding women in the palace to know the signs.''
''I hope – but it is early to be sure...'' Then she nodded. ''Yes, lord, I think it is so.''
''Tell him later,'' Gthar leaned back, smiling.
''Will he be very angry?'' she wondered, looking ahead to where the man she loved rode under the sun.
''No,'' his father said firmly. ''He has had other children, you know.''
Aiana's eyes flashed. ''I am sure, sir,'' she responded stiffly. ''You need not tell me I am one of many, I know.''
''Do you know what happened to them?''
She paused and looked at him, frowning, under the veil, ''What happened to them?"
''He was told they died. Taraluk, may he rot in the darkness, had them taken away, disposed of. Some say worse. I never could find out. My son has never held a living child of his own.''
Aiana swayed and felt a firm hand steady her.
''Oh, Gods..." She felt an overwhelming desire to weep. Her emotions had been unbalanced these last two weeks, swinging from joy to sorrow; often she felt like crying.
''So you see why he will be overjoyed, my dear?''
''I hope so,'' she blinked furiously. ''Even if I am only one among many, I want him to love this one.''
Gthar snorted. ''You will never be one among many! He will have to make an advantageous marriage, you know this, it is his duty, the duty of any King. But you will never be overlooked, Aiana. I promise you that. Khanad has never been in love, and he may not even know he is, but I can see. I could always read him like a scroll.''
~~~
The crowd at the arena eventually fell silent as the prince strode to a dais erected on the sand and sat down, his guards at attention about him. The tiers of seating which had not been wrecked by the statue's collapse were filled with a colorful, enthusiastic crowd. Taraluk's great bronze colossus had shattered in three pieces and the gods alone knew how it was going to be moved. Perhaps it should not be, Khanad thought, but remain as a reminder of one mans madness and evil. The arena would be used for Games and training; not for death matches. Never again.
The matter of who would crown the new King had been discussed at length, until Gthar had told him that a holy man, a pilgrim from Chey Sart had arrived in Tanith. This man, it was said, worshiped none but the One and now came to pray at a place which had long had an evil and corrupt reputation, to cleanse the lingering shadows.
''It can do not harm I suppose,'' Khanad said. The Cheyans were an arrogant people who considered themselves superior to the Haradhan nations. They held aloof beyond their mountains, believing culture and civilization were their province alone. None were ever seen in Tanith and an emissary to that land, when the Prince was a youth had returned with such an insulting reply from the Great Khagan that Taraluk had fallen into a fit of wrath.
''What does he wish for it?''
''Nothing, my prince,'' his father said.
''My Son.''
''Forgive me, my son. He wants nothing. It might be a good omen to the beginning of your rule. He is a famous holy man in Chey Sart, it is said, a Seer who even their Khagan respects and listen to. Perhaps he may carry a message from yourself to the ruler.''
The man was there now clad in blue; a tall figure in rope soled sandals which had seen much journeying, yet there was an air of authority and stature about him. His hands were long and slender, his neat beard was white, and his eyes were calm.
The crown was new, a simple coronet set with diamonds and one great center stone in the ancient symbol of Tanith, the lions head.
''In the name of the One who is above all, forever, all Powers and Fates, all Doom, all Death, I give you this crown, Khanad, first of that name, King of Tanith. May you rule with wisdom and enlightenment. And may the One witness.''
Khanad bent his head as the crowds erupted into joy and then rose with a smile. He allowed the acclaim to continue for a while before he raised his hands, commanding silence.
''My people!'' he cried. ''We have woken to a new dawn after long years lost to darkness and fear. We have all been slaves here, but now we will lift our heads and embrace freedom and justice. Let no-one fear the shadows at night, nor that their children or husbands, their women or lovers will vanish. The Dark that ruled our lives is gone. I saw it bested. Powers walked among us though we knew them not, let us not forget that legends have been made here. By the bravery of the Lady Anwyn, and Prince Elphir of the Principality of Dol Amroth, a friend of the Re-uniter king, Elessar Telcontar, of whom we have all heard, Taraluk, the Tyrant is dead, Nothtar, his lackey is dead. While we rejoice let us remember the past also, who our saviors were – both Powers and Men – and women also.'' There was a ripple of laughter but it was an approving sound. Then Khanad spread out his hands and the sky seemed to break with the roll of cheering and the chanting of his name.
It was very late when he at last had a moment alone. He knew he should sleep but the thrill of the day, relief, amazement, were as wine to him. He was young and alive, when he thought to be dead. And the golden Elf again had been right, although his mind veered away from thinking of the island and its horror, the darkness seemed to make the everything, life, living, so much more vivid.
There was much to do. Tanith still hummed with celebration, but Khanad did not want to wake heavy headed on his first morning as King. Not that he thought he could, no wine had seemed to touch him this day.
He turned to a servant who was drawing back the silk sheets of his great bed.
''Send for Aiana,'' he said and then gauged the time. ''If she is awake. Then go to your own bed-place. Bring me news of Lord Gthar, I wish to ensure he is comfortable.'' It had been a very long day for both of them, he thought.
The man nodded and passed through the room and the King lifted his circlet from his helm and set it down.
In the dark corner of the room, something moved.
Khanad whirled with a warriors reflexes, reaching for the ceremonial sword he had worn all that day. The blackness was like a hole in time itself, and his heart suddenly plunged like a war horse, for it reminded him of the isle and the dreadful smothering...blankness, the monstrous apparition which had emerged from it. Oh Gods...
Something shone there, like the lights upon a ship moving through sea fog, lambent purple, and then the darkness parted, flowing like water from the one who stepped from it.
Khanad gasped in disbelief as Vanimórë appeared. His eyes were like levelled lances, amethyst jewels in the dimness and for a moment, the young man saw red flame in their depths. There was something about him which hit Khanad with the force of a hammer-blow, stealing his breath. He saw for the first time, the Power there; it was chilling, it was ancient, it was...
The long black lashes hid the eyes for a moment and when they swept up the fathomless purple had returned with the elusive, mocking smile.
"Dost thou," he said, "want a Warlord for thine armies, King Khanad?" ~
~~~
The End of Dark Lands.
To be continued in Dark Blood