Maroz 3 - Ailing Heart

“Jeed, where are you at Jeed?”
Jeed Comisti flinched at the sound of the emperor’s shout. He had not heard Malok call him before, but from the shout it was certain that he had, and Jeed just had not heard. Picking up his leather bound folder with all of his papers, sand jar, pen and ink, he scurried out of his room into the Grand Hall where Malok would be, all the while hoping Malok was not in a sour enough mood to have him beaten again for being too slow. At the age of sixty-three years, Jeed’s body seemed much older and every joint hurt as he hurried to his emperor, he was not in shape to be taking too many beatings. Pushing through the large double doors he hurried towards Malok while continuously bowing and begging his pardon for causing him to shout. Reaching the correct distance from the throne, Jeed dropped into a low bow, ignoring the pain running through his back.

Malok sat in his throne, an overly large oak chair with an even higher back to it. Every inch of the woodwork was gilded with intricate carvings showing men battling in much too detailed scenes than should be displayed. Above Malok’s head, the chairs back spread wider to show a scene of one man cutting the head off of another. At their feet lay the crown that Malok now wore. The scene had depicted how Malok took over the throne in the first place. It was custom in the land of Maroz that whoever should kill the Emperor in his own Throne room would take the throne himself. None had tried to kill Malok in near a dozen years now though.

Lifting his head just enough to peek up at the Emperor, Jeed could see one reason why nobody has tried to kill him. Malok was an imposing figure, standing a full eight inches over six feet with wide shoulders. His piercing black eyes were like pools of darkness that made one feel as if they could swallow your soul. Though his hair now had as much silver in it as it did its original black, it did nothing to take away from the intimidating appearance of strength. The black clothing he wore was trimmed in silver and gold, which matched very well with the sword at his side. The sword was only one of a pair that Jeed had ever seen. The blade was near as black as the leather wrapped hilt and the gold writing that was etched into the blade gave it a very mysterious look. The sheath the sword was set into was designed to look like the blade itself. Rumor had it that he had killed a man for the blade, though Jeed knew the rumor to be false. The truth was that a man came to him looking to sell the blade thinking royalty would pay more for it. The man was right and would have walked away a very rich man if he had been willing to sell Malok its match. When the man refused, Malok dropped the price for the one down by half and gave the fellow a choice of taking the offer or being drawn and quartered. The seller still left with a good sum of money if not so much as he was hoping for. Jeed could never figure out why Malok did not just have the man killed and keep both swords. Not that Jeed felt he should have done so, but to let the man live and leave with the matching blade was far more generous than was usual for Malok.

The second reason nobody has tried to kill Malok in so long was that he was an Elemental. Not just any elemental though, but a second level elemental. An elemental was ranked by how many of the five elements he could control. Single level elementals were rare enough but to control two elements was extremely rare. To Jeed’s knowledge, Malok was the only living class two elemental. Only once before has it ever been recorded for a human to control three of the five elements and that man became so overwhelmed with his power that his own army turned against him and killed him. Even so, thousands had died while the land looked as if it was overturned for miles around the battle.

Malok sat there studying Jeed for a long moment before shaking his head. “New recruits are arriving Jeed. I want a report on each of them and don’t dawdle this time!”

Bowing his head as he backed out of the room, Jeed closed the doors before turning and hurrying through the corridors towards the soldier’s grounds. He had lived in the palace for so long that he no longer looked twice at the skeletons that lined the long halls. Skeletons of all different beasts and humans had been assembled and wearing their original armor, if there was any, to remind everyone of those who had tried to attack Maroth. Someday another would try and he and his champions would be added to the collection as well. The palace of Maroz was impenetrable and Jeed knew it well. At one particular skeleton though, Jeed did stop for a quick second. Touching his fingertips to his lips he kissed them then pressed them to the forehead of the skull. Rogin Tashew was a good King and had treated him very kindly before Malok killed him. Pushing through the outer doors, Jeed pulled a silk kerchief from his pocket and wiped some sweat from his face as he made his way down the steps to where all of the recruits were standing. I must be getting a bug or something! He thought, for he had never broken a sweat from this little bit of walking in the past. Captain Hanier stood facing the young men, his back to him as Jeed came up behind him. Even so, he instantly knew it was Jeed who was coming.

“…will not be acceptable!” He was saying to the lads. “Jeed, who is coming up behind me will be asking each of you some questions. You will answer him respectfully and quickly! When you are through answering his questions, you will see Lieutenant Cleese who is that shorter dark haired man over there by the rack of practice swords.” Turning, Hanier gave Jeed one simple nod before walking away, already un-strapping his armor as he walked.

The questions were simple and quickly became very redundant to the point a few of the recruits began to answer without waiting for him to ask. What is your name? Have you any birth defects? What town are you from? How old are you? Have you any ability in controlling any elements? That one was always a no. No army has ever had more than four elementals enlisted at one time. Over and over again he would write the answers down in his ledger until he reached a tall lad with brown hair and wide at the shoulders. Jeed was still writing the answers down when his sweating seemed to become much worse. Wiping his brow again, a sudden feeling of nausea swept over him and he felt as if his chest was set into a vice. The world around him began to spin and turn when the lad grabbed him shouting for help. The clamping feeling in Jeed’s chest grew worse until a warm feeling rushed through him and the clamping released and the sweating began to lessen.

“What’s going on here?” It was the Lieutenant who had come running. Roughly shoving the lad away, he grabbed Jeed. “You alright Jeed? What did the boy do to you?”

Breathing heavily, Jeed slowly got back to his feet while shaking his head. “It was not the recruit Lieutenant Cleese. I just have a bug or something I think. The lad only grabbed me to stop me from falling. I, I think I will be alright.” Even so, Jeed took a few more minutes to gather his wits before returning to writing their answers down. It wouldn’t do to have heart problems now. Not when there was so much to do. Especially not when it would be so easy for Malok to toss him out of the palace without a penny to his name and replace him with someone healthy.

Continue to Maroz 4 - The Elemental