Translated From Sarconian Scout

Sorry that this is so long, but enjoy it. I daresay that this may be the last chapter of Sarco that I post here. It is possible that I'll put up two more, but...


Jasper, because of his Junior Scouthood, did not see his friend Lar as frequently as he had, but he finally managed to find a block of time when he wasn't doing either farm work or scouting. "You seem sad," he commented to his friend.
Lar sighed heavily. "I'll never make it to a Junior Scouthood."
"Nonsense!" cried Jasper. "Every time I've spoken with you, you've been doing fine with your studies. You'll get your JS soon, I'm certain."
"It's not skill level," said Lar, "It's me. None of the healers can place the problem, but it's there."
"What?" asked Jasper, confused.
"An issue that I've had my entire life," said Lar. "My parents thought that I might overcome it with the rigorous exercise that the Scouts require, and so it seemed for a time. But the condition came back."
"What is it?"
"Like I said, no one knows exactly what it is. We only know the symptoms: shortness of breath and lightheadedness when I'm engaged in rigorous exercise. People do experience such things, but mine is to the extreme - I pass out." Lar sighed deeply. "So I can't continue. I've lost a dream."
Jasper flung a friendly arm around Lar's shoulders. "You know what people say, 'Doors must close for windows to open.' I'm certain you'll find a place where you can apply yourself and be happy."
Lar did find a place. When next Jasper saw him, he was studying diplomacy and enjoying it. He had become lighter and more talkative than he had been during Scout School. But he still rode off into the mountains from time to time. One day in late summer, however, Lar did not return from his gallivanting off into the hills. The Scout who was sent on his trail said that, from all appearances, he had been captured by the Aranara.

Malfic Vespertine gazed stormily down the long wooden table, looking towards the huge wooden door. Everything was going wrong. It had all been going wrong since almost three years before.
He had learned from his scouts that a high-ranking Sarconian family, Alex and Jennifer Breaker, along with their children, Jack and Melissa Breaker, were going on a trip with their parents. He’d had his men start a rock slide in hopes of killing the family. He had been angry when he found out that, although their parents were killed, thirteen-year-old Jack and Melissa had escaped the rock slide, but he enjoyed the report of the doings nonetheless. After all, brokenhearted weeping was just as good as a death scream and more fun to listen to, considering that it lasted longer. He had ordered that the account be written in his favorite book of murders.
He had also been happy when he learned that Melissa had gone into a deep depression and disappeared into the north. But then that dreadful Gilthoniel Dragontongue had gone and given Melissa hope. Malfic had long since decided that Gilthoniel would pay for that in blood and pain. A year later Melissa and two other Scouts had sneaked into Malfic’s office and stolen all his battle plans.
He had called in his eldest son. "The Scouts have stolen our battle plans, Maleficence, " he had said. "Take a strong detachment out after them."
So they had chased the three Scouts and killed two, but Melissa was good at hiding her trail and always stayed a step ahead of them. An escort had awaited her at the border, led by her brother, Jack. Maleficence had caught up with the escort and engaged them in fierce combat, but, once again, Melissa escaped. And not only did she escape capture; she returned to the scene of the combat with reinforcements after giving the battle plans to the Sarconian council.
Only one man of the entire detachment returned to him, bringing him news of his son’s death. "I saw it happen," the man gasped, nearly dead with blood loss and exhaustion. "Jack Breaker ran him through."
Cold rage had crept into Malfic’s mind. He would kill the Breaker twins as slowly and painfully as he could contrive. I know Melissa has a good scream. he thought. All girls do. And I'll hear it nice and loud when I- Then he paused. He had caught a glimpse of Melissa when she was sneaking around his palace and knew that she was, in fact, very beautiful. With her spirit broken she would make a perfect addition to his servants. His eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
"We only have to capture one of them," he said.
"Sir?" one of the members of his small staff looked carefully at him. "One of whom, and how?"
"One of the Breaker twins, rockbrain!" The staff huddled together in a small group, fearing that Malfic would decide to kill one of them. Malfic spent a moment enjoying the looks of terror on their faces, then continued. "If we capture one, the other will come after him or her." < br> "Family loyalty," chuckled one of the staff members as they slowly relaxed. "They would be better off without it."
"Indeed," smiled Malfic. "Wait until they are on a mission alone. Then grab the closest one. I want them both alive. Smack the boy around as much as you wish, so long as he isn’t dead and is capable of standing up to torture, but leave the girl alone. I want her unhurt and untouched. I will enjoy breaking her. That pleasure is mine."
Malfic smiled to himself. After he captured the twins he would keep Jack alive long enough to see his sister’s spirit broken. Then he would kill him. Something to look forward to, he thought. And, if I can break Melissa’s spirit, I can take her as my wife. But then...why take her as my wife? My other son, Tarian, also has Old Sarconian blood. If he takes her to wife, a fairly strong Sarconian strain will come to the Aranaran royal family and we will have more claim to the throne than ever. "Bring my son, Tarian, to me," he said to the staff.
While Malfic waited for Tarian, he considered Jack's fate. I could kill him. It would break Melissa perfectly. But then...she might be opposed to marriage...I can threaten to kill Jack to make her marry Tarian, then kill him anyway, cementing her submission. But why kill him? I could use Melissa's love for him against her, threaten to do things to him if she didn't cooperate. Eventually his spirit would be broken to pieces and he would either die or swear allegiance to me. If he swore allegiance to me, I would have gained a powerful and cunning warrior. If he dies, well, I'm rid of a great annoyance. Either way, I win.
Tarian got to the council chamber a few minutes later. He looked very nervous. Nervous indeed, Malfic thought, considering that I executed his mother, Delice, not long ago. Malfic felt a slight pang of regret. He had killed Delice himself while in a rage, and was surprised that he missed her annoyingly high spirit. Delice came to love me more than any of my other women, but she could never find it in herself to keep her eyes on the floor and never speak a word unless I spoke to her. Her spirit wasn't tender...but her love was... Malfic shook his head slightly. Tarian has his mother's spirit, and that was a good thing. Melissa will be the perfect wife for him. "Tarian, it is high time you married. Come here, sit down," he kicked out a chair near him, "and tell me which of the women has caught your eye."
Tarian seated himself slowly next to Malfic. "None of the women have caught my eye, Father," he said quietly.
"Hmm. I didn't think so. But, as I said, it is time you married; I have given thought to a wife for you, and I have found one."
Tarian's eyebrows lifted. "Whom, Father?"
"Melissa Breaker," Malfic said in a satisfied tone.
"The northern Scout?" Tarian looked puzzled.
"Yes. Have you not seen her?"
Tarian shook his head, nervously gripping the arms of his chair.
"She is the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes on. Her spirit is high now, but when she is broken she will be perfect for you."
Tarian took a deep breath. "Father, I have seen women with broken spirits. They just mope, cringing whenever anyone speaks to them. Others just waste away and die. If you captured Melissa for me, I would prefer it if you just gave her to me."
"You would take her as she was, high spirit and all?"
"Yes, then deal with her as I would a wild colt."
Malfic lifted an eyebrow. "Meaning..."
"I would teach her to love and trust me, not through harsh words and blows, but with gentleness. I would tame her spirit, not break it."
"Hmm. You see the world strangely, Tarian. Still, I am not opposed to your request. Very well, when she is taken, she is yours as soon as she arrives." Malfic gave his son a thin smile.
"Thank you, Father. I did not think you would give thought to my future, considering my position." Tarian's eyes were on the floor.
Malfic leaned back in his chair. "You are my heir, Tarian."
Tarian looked up in surprise. "But I am not the eldest! Torina's son-"
"Yes, he is the eldest now. But Tarian," Malfic leaned forward, "healers have no place on the throne. Besides, you are the eldest of mine from Delice."
"I thought my mother was out of favor," Tarian said cautiously.
"Tarian, there are few women like your mother. She was different!" Malfic's voice rose to an angry shout, then softened. "She was...different."
Tarian was amazed at the sudden change in his father's voice. He spoke almost tenderly. "You loved her," he blurted before he could stop himself.
"I did. And she loved me. She was from the north, and wanted to turn me into a Northerner." Malfic drummed his fingers on the table. "So she slipped into my heart and tried to change me with love. She didn't change me though, and no one ever will. See that no one changes you, Tarian." Malfic dismissed Tarian with a motion of his hand.
Tarian left the council chamber and made his way to the roof of the palace and leaned on the cold railing. When he had told his father that none of the women had caught his eye, he had meant none of the eligible women. One woman had caught his eye: a pretty, melancholy servant girl. He had intended to free her and ask his father for permission to marry her if she consented to such an arrangement. But she had thrown herself from the roof of the palace three weeks previously before Tarian had a chance to talk to her of marriage.
He gazed northward and drew his cloak tighter against the cold wind, wishing that he could see his mother's homeland. The Arnia Valley, where the Aranara's headquarters lay, was devoted to war and the building of a great army. The barracks lay on the south side of the palace, the stables on the west, the smithies on the east, and the training fields on the north. On the field a detachment of cavalry practiced moves.
Who is this Melissa Breaker I am now destined to marry? Tarian wondered. When she comes, will she quickly realize that I won't harm her, or will I have to lock her up to keep her from killing me? Will she be course and crude in her actions from ignorance? No...the Sarconians are not known for being unintelligent. Will she be proud and cold or mischievous and daring? In bringing her here, will I be taking her away from someone she loves? And if I am, how do I keep her from dying of grief? And how do I prove that I'm not a bloodthirsty warlord like...like my father?
Tarain turned from the railing and made his way down through the passages to the dungeon. He tried to breath lightly as he jogged though the stinking dungeon down to the lowest level where the Sarconian prisoners were kept. He passed over most of the cells, they were either empty or those in them had been there too long to have known Melissa. He finally stopped. The lad in this cell had been captured fairly recently. Tarian suppressed a grin as defiant black eyes gazed fiercely back at him through the prisoner's unkept hair, for he felt that he and this young man could have been friends in more peaceful times.
He crouched near the door. "Do you know a Melissa Breaker?" he asked.
"Maybe," the young man replied coldly. "Why do you want to know?"
"Malfic wants me to marry her if she's captured."
"You Aranara take and get rid of wives at your pleasure. Why should I tell you anything?"
"Maybe I want to make her happy if I marry her."
"Yeah, sure."
"I'm serious."
The young man looked carefully at Tarian. "I think you may be. What do you want to know? Whether I tell you anything or not depends on the nature of the information."
"What's she like?"
"Level-headed. Slightly mischievous. A good rider. She doesn't give her love or loyalty away freely, but once you have it, only the Lord of Heaven could make her break faith. She can be quite fierce, but underneath it all, she is tenderhearted. At least, so I hear."
"Is she as good-looking as she is rumored to be?"
"Good-looking is an understatement. She is absolutely beautiful."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm a worthless Sarconian dog," said the young man dryly. "Isn't that reason enough? Actually, some nutcase thought I was Jack Breaker. He was quite pleased with his catch until Malfic punched him and informed him he had the wrong person. I said that he indeed did and could they be nice for once and let me go-"
"And my father backhanded you and filled your ears with more curses than most people hear in a lifetime."
"How'd you know?"
"One, you have a bruise on your cheek. Two, well, I just know my father."
"Malfic's your father?"
"Unfortunately."
The young man grinned slowly. "I think I like you. You don't seem Aranaran."
"I'm not. My mother was half-musian."
The young man looked puzzled. "But I thought I sensed a strain of the High Folk in you; your eyes are purple. It's an Old Sarconian trait. And if you don't mind my introducing myself, I'm Lar Tren."
"Lar, I'm Tarian. I think I may be able to get you out of here."
Lar pushed his hair out of his face. "That would be nice."
Tarian said goodbye to Lar, went to his chambers, and sent a message to his father. Malfic was in a good mood, and decided to grant Tarian his request. It was after dark when Tarian received the positive reply. The palace was cold and mostly dark. Tarian wrapped himself in a dark wool cloak with a deep hood. He threw another cloak over his arm and headed for the dungeons.
He was challenged by the guard at the door. "No admittance to the dungeons, young man. Not at this time of night."
Tarian scowled at the guard and flashed his signet ring in the man's face. "This mean anything to you?"
"Oh, Sir. I didn't know. I beg your pardon."
"Just let me in and give me the keys to the cells on the lowest level," said Tarain.
"Yes, Sir." The guard opened the heavy door and handed Tarian the requested ring of keys and a lantern.
The dungeon was dark. Some of the prisoners were asleep, others raved at the moon. Tarian passed them silently and came to the lowest level of the dungeons. He found Lar's cell, unlocked the door, and tapped Lar on the shoulder. Lar awoke instantly and grabbed at the empty dagger sheath on his belt.
"Ugh," he muttered. "Thought I was up in the hills again. It sure is cold enough."
"No jest," Tarian replied. "Come on. I have permission to take you out of this filthy hole. The rest of the palace is freezing too, here's a cloak."
Lar took the cloak and threw it around his shoulders. "Where're we headed?"
"The second floor of the west wing of the palace," Tarian replied.
"I'm surprised your father let you get me out of here," said Lar.
"He's in a good mood," Tarian replied. "I told him that none of my guards could keep up with me when I really wanted to ride, which is true-"
"And you needed someone who could keep pace," finished Lar.
"You Sarconians are known for your riding skills," Tarian said.
"Well," said Lar, "I'll try not to disappoint you."

He didn't. The next day, Tarian discovered that Lar could not only keep pace with him, he could out-ride him with ease. This greatly amused Lar.
"Your normal companions must be terrible if they can't keep up with you," he said. "No offense meant, of course."
Tarian grinned. "None taken. My guards are real clodpoles when it comes to riding. But then, compared to you, so am I."
Lar laughed. "I was practically born in the saddle. You're not a bad horseman, but you've never been taught how to really handle a unicorn. They do handle a bit different from horses; they are faster and more sure-footed. You don't have to give them as much guidance as a horse, which is what you try to do. Unicorns are intelligent creatures, and that annoys them greatly Just tell them your direction; they'll make sure you get where you want to go. Try it."
Tarian turned his mount west and urged it into a gallop. The unicorn navigated easily over the slightly uneven ground. Tarian slowly urged the unicorn into a run. Lar stayed next to him the entire time, moving as if he were part of his mount. Tarian gently reined in his mount. "Where'd you learn to ride like that?" he asked Lar. "It's as if you're part of the unicorn."
"Where I come from," said Lar, "We ride bare-back as much as in the saddle. Actually, on a unicorn, bareback is safer than a saddle once you learn it; if you fall off, there's no stirrup to get your foot caught in. On a unicorn, being dragged is even more deadly than on a horse."
"Can see why," said Tarian. "Do you think you could teach me to ride like that?"
"Sure," said Lar. He dismounted easily, removed the saddle from his unicorn and put it on a rock. Tarian did the same.
Tarian's first attempt to leap onto the unicorn's back resulted in his sliding off and landing on the ground on the other side. He tried again and managed to stay on for a few seconds before falling. Lar continued with his patient coaching, and Tarian eventually mastered the leaping mount. He encountered the same difficulty as he learned bareback riding. Sliding off was ridiculously easy.
"I would have preferred an easier way to learn the meaning of 'sore muscles'," Tarian told Lar a few days later.
"You've almost got it," Lar reassured him, and it was true. Before too long, Tarian was riding as well as Lar. The two had become fast friends over this time, although they never let anyone at the palace know about it. They would ride out away from the palace and rest under a ridge, eating whatever the cooks had packed for them while Lar discoursed on the workings of Strianelian government.
"You really seem to know alot about the laws of Strianel," Tarian said one day. "Is what you know common knowledge?"
"Not really," Lar replied. "I was a diplomat in training back in Sarconia City. I really wanted to be a Scout, but I have a health complication; I become short of breath and pass out from lack of air during lengthy, vigorous exercise. Because of that, I wasn't able to join the Scouts, so I entered diplomatic training. That's sort of why I was captured; I passed out while fighting off my captors. Rather embarrassing."
"I can see why," said Tarian. "I wouldn't want to be captured that way. Lar, can you keep a secret?"
"What, are you in love with some girl whom you could never marry?" Lar's eyes glinted with amusement.
Tarian smiled but remained serious. "No. It's a secret that could me executed if my father found out about it."
"I can keep my mouth shut. No one really notices me anyway. There are bazillions of servants around here; I just blend in."
Tarian took a deep breath. "My father has an alliance with some lord on the plains. They plan to unite and take the mountains. While they're doing that, I'm supposed to stay here as Malfic's regent. When my father leaves, he will take practically the entire army with him. When he is far enough away, I plan to contact the Strianelian king, Nicanor, and hand the country over to him."
Lar's eyebrows lifted. "A daring plan. However, this lord on the plains, whoever he is, will not dare act against the mountain territory with Malfic unless he has control of the Strianelian throne. You are in a delicate situation, Tarian. How about this plan; it's a bit less dangerous. When your father leaves, wait. We Sarconians have a very strong fighting force and position; there will also be those who will not unite with the plains lord you mentioned, and they will join us. If your father and his ally lose, the rightful ruler will be restored to the throne, and you can surrender to him. If the Sarconians are defeated, I will assassinate your father when he gets back, and you can take the throne and do whatever you want."
"If you assassinate my father, there will be lords who will demand your execution," Tarian warned.
"I am not going to be a stupid assassin. I will do my assassinating, get out, go north, and hide. The Scouts would be on my side, as well as all the other Sarconians."
Tarian grinned. "And then I'll find the rightful leader and hand the throne over to them. Then you can come out of hiding. That's a better plan then I could have come up with."
Lar laughed. "As a diplomat, I study such things." He sobered. "I hope things work out. You could die if they do not."
"We could both die," Tarian replied.