In Harmony We Trust - Ryan Matthew Harker (most popular novels of all time txt) 📗

/> “But why?” he asked.
The queen sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired Jeshux. I’m tired and to be honest with you I don’t feel that I’m capable of managing the kingdom the way it needs managing during this war.” Then, as if she needed to add some justification to her decision, she added, “I mean Zakeriah is one of the most capable men I know and look what happened to him.” A tear beaded up in a corner of one of her eyes and trickled down her cheek. “You should have seen him Jeshux, he was manic. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Fair enough,” Jeshux said and reached out to pat her hand. “But I’ve got one question, although it may sound cliché, why me?”
She smiled and wiped her face. Jeshux could not help but see how tired and vulnerable she looked right then and it was not a state this hard-bitten woman, the second most powerful person on the planet, should be reduced to.
“Because I believe it’s what Zakeriah would want,” Mega’N answered once she got herself under control. “You two have had your differences over the years…”
“More like decades,” Jeshux laughed.
“Alright, decades,” she smiled again. “But he’s always respected you and admires the way you’ve never backed down from your point of view.”
“Admires?” Jeshux laughed in disbelief. “I find that a little hard to swallow.”
This time it was the queen who reached out and took his hand in hers. “It’s true Jeshux. He does admire you, greatly. And, although he would never admit it, he even envies you. He envies you the freedom that allowed you to throw away a promising position in his court to run off and ensemble your ragtag army of mercenaries.”
“Hardly ragtag,” he said sternly but with a smile on his face. “All right Mega’N, enough of the sweet talk, what’s the point behind all of this?”
“Damnit Jeshux, you never could take a compliment,” she said in exasperation and let go of his hand. “The point is that besides the king no other man has the experience with Harmony that you have and who better to direct the armies of a kingdom at war than the man who was once scheduled to be High General of AnEerth?”
“Ah ha, I knew it!” Jeshux ejaculated.
“Knew what?” Mega’N asked, temporarily confused.
“You and Zakeriah are still trying to maneuver me into the position I declined over three hundred and fifty years ago.”
“We are not!” the queen roared to her feet her eyes ablaze.
“Of course you’re not,” Jeshux said calmly and smiled benignly.
“What?” she sputtered.
“Of course you’re not,” he repeated. “But there’s that fire we’ve all come to know and love so much.”
“What?” she asked again and sat down more confused than ever.
“I accept your generous offer but on one condition, I never want to see you underestimate yourself like that again. You are way more capable than you might think,” he told her smiling all the while.
“You bastard!” she told him.
“Among other things,” he agreed.
“Alright then, I suppose I should thank you for that…”
“Apathy is a gross condition.”
“…but I’m not,” she ignored him. “And before you accept you should know that I have a condition of my own.” She was calmer now but the fire still flared throughout her irises as she stared the Commander General down.
“By all means, tell me,” Jeshux suggested coolly, all business.
“You heard the report from the medic so you know as well as I do it’s looking bad for Zakeriah.” Here she almost choked and another tear rolled from her eye. She swallowed hard, brushed the tear aside and continued, “Damn Harmony! Whatever he hit my husband with is incurable. The medics are stumped, the thaumaturgists are stumped, the only thing that they agree upon is that the magic used had to have originated on Earth because it’s unlike anything that we have here.”
“I’ve heard the report,” Jeshux interrupted. “So where are you going with all this?”
The queen heaved a deep sigh and said, “What I’m trying to say, Jeshux, is if Zakeriah dies I’m going to step down completely. I refuse to rule alone and we have no children.”
“And if I accept the regency that’ll leave me as sole ruler and I’ll have to name a successor if I choose to do so,” he finished for her.
“Precisely,” Mega’N confirmed, eyes narrow, lips tight and face grim.
Jeshux took a moment to consider this before he said, “I still accept.
“Excellent,” She said with a faint hint of relief. “I'll make the announcement to the council when we meet at noon tomorrow and with a little luck the Chosen Ones will join us.”
“Very well,” Jeshux pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “If that’s everything, I have quite a bit to attend to.”
“Yes Jeshux,” she said and he turned to walk away. “And thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out the door.
The Queen watched the Commander General’s retreating back until the door closed and began to sob silently.


“Yes ma’am,” the witch Farewethor spoke into thin air though she stared at nothing.
She sat alone in the small chamber that she had commandeered to gather the supplies she thought she would need to accomplish the task her fit of passionate zeal had volunteered her for. However, now that she was in this small room surrounded by the apparel and paraphernalia normally associated with a sneak thief she was beginning to doubt her ability to pull off such a bold stunt.
“No ma’am,” she again spoke into thin air, still alone in the room. “No. I believe I have everything that I need. I should be ready to leave in about fifteen minutes. Yes ma’am, I’ll wait.”
Farewethor came out of the trance with a small shake of her head and stretched her arms as if she had just awaked from a long and restful sleep. She slapped her palms on her knees, stood up and looked around at the clothes and supplies around her. Steeling her mind against doubt of what the future may hold she stripped off her robe and donned the black sneak suit that she had acquired earlier from palace stores.
Ten minutes later the young witch had finished with her preparations and so she sat back down to await the arrival of a delivery. Five minutes later there was the soft rapping of someone gently tapping at her chamber door. Farewethor again stood up, this time without the spirit lifting slapping of her knees, and opened the door.
“Witch Farewethor?” a young man, little more than a boy, asked from the hall.
“Yes,” Farewethor answered, trying to picture what she must look like from the boy’s eyes and wondered if he had any idea who this woman before him was or what she was doing.
“Witch Farewethor, I was told to give this to you.” The young man held out his hand and nestled in his palm was a small medallion about an inch in diameter attached to a thin cable woven of many ultra-fine, silver filaments. The medallion was also woven and interwoven from stands of gold which created an intricate and complex tapestry of patterns that seemed to be different every time you looked at it. Knowing what she did of the beautiful piece of jewelry Farewethor would not have been surprised if it really did change its pattern with every look.
She took the proffered medallion and carefully tucked it into a small, concealed pocket that she had designated specifically for the purpose of its containment. “Thank you.”
The young man gave her a short bow and strode purposefully away, clearly anxious to return to the bed that he must have been called from. Farewethor looked wistfully after him and wished she were safe in her own bed. She shut the door to the now empty room and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction. It was well after midnight and she had planned her timetable so that she would be out of the city by one. If she was to meet that deadline she would have to hurry.
She traveled down the halls until she reached a section of the palace that even during daylight hours was little used and began to wend her way downward towards a hidden exit that would deposit her just outside the city walls. After the meeting with the queen she had gone to the royal library where she had been directed to a disused portion of the records department. She dug through the dusty scrolls and maps until she had finally found what she was looking for, an ancient floor plan for the original castle that the new palace was built on top of. Using this artifact from the past Farewethor had found an old supply tunnel and was able to plot a course that would take her there. She was headed to the tunnel now in hopes that it would still be open and although she had studied the route diligently she found herself backtracking after she took a few wrong turns. Presently she found herself in the tunnel that she hoped would still be able to deposit her outside the city walls. During her research she had been unable to find any reference that indicated that it had been closed off and so she had not planned an alternate route.
Farewethor reached the tunnels end, drew a deep breath and whispered the short spell that would open the exit, and only released her breath in relief after the great cover stone ground to a halt over her head. She could see stars shining brightly from their home in the sky through the small hole at the top of a fairly long flight of narrow stairs. The nervous witch put one timid foot on the first step. She put her other foot on the second step and before she knew it she had climbed the short stairway that led outside. The top of the stairs were completely devoid of any vegetation and she hoped the concealment spell had survived the detonation of the arcane energy bomb. And that no one had heard the movement of the cover stone. She shyly poked her head out to look around. Everything was clear so she climbed the rest of the way out and again whispered the spell to shut the covering stone. Ascertaining that the area appeared undisturbed by her passage Farewethor turned and headed toward the enemy army that was camped well beyond the lights of the city. She drew closer to the light from the enemy fires, incanted the spells that would hide her from detection from any of the five senses and prayed that they would be all that she needed.
The light grew brighter and the nighttime noises of the soldiers grew louder as she slipped undetected through the outer ring of sentries and into the heart of the camp. She deliberately took every step with caution, taking care to keep stealth in the forefront of her thoughts. Any misplaced step could arouse suspicion and draw the sort of attention that even her spells would fail to hide her from.
She delved deeper into the enemy camp until she could just make out the ominous shape of Harmony’s tent, black against the stars in the sky, and next to it the unmistakable outline of the large cage in which the Chosen Ones were supposed to be housed. She altered her course slightly until it intersected the cage. Farewethor proceeded with even more caution. Being so close to Harmony and the unspeakable evil that he represented made her extremely uneasy and she became even more aware of the precariousness of her situation the closer she got.
She crept up to the side of the