Chapter 11

11.
         They were already walking in, Tristian and Johan following Agent One's purposeful strides, as the echo from the castellan's annoucement rang through the huge throne room.
         Glowing balls of light were set at regular intervals along the walls, seeking to light an otherwise dank place but by making the bright places brighter it only made the shadows that much darker. You could never make it go away completely, Tristian mused. The floor was polished and smooth, Tristian's shoes clacking numbly on the stones. The walls lifted gracefully to meet in the shape of a dome overhead and the buttresses that held the entire structure up were ornately decorated, like the door had been, only in the shapes of trees.
         Johan was looking very pale now and was almost shuffling as he was walking. He was moving so slowly that they were losing track of the Agent (or Magent, Tristian thought with some amusement) and Tristian was tempted to shove the other man gently along.
         "I never realized . . ." he was murmuring, his face altogether slack now, like the last strings had been cut.
         "What?" Tristian asked, trying to shock the man back into reality. Tristian knew the feeling well enough, it had nearly eaten him alive sometimes, but he had always come back. Perhaps the conditioning played no small part in that, strengthening his mind. He liked to think that it was his willpower that had saved him ultimately, every time. Johan didn't seem to have that safety net though.
         "What didn't you realize?" Tristian insisted, trying to get the man to answer. Up ahead he could see two thrones, the tops reaching nearly halfway to the vaulted ceiling. Guards lined the walls, bristling with armor. Up near the thrones he could several robed people that were probably mages of some sort.
         "The Magents," Johan whispered, his vision moving slowly across the room, settling on the red back of the Agent. His face snapped over to face Tristian. "How long have you know?" The question was urgent, almost violent in its intensity.
         "Known what?" Tristian was taken aback by the sudden change in subject. They were getting closer to the throne now and he could see that a man and woman each sat in one. King and queen perhaps. It fit with everything else that was going on here. Tristian had met kings before, so the prospect of meeting another didn't faze him one bit. Besides, it was the Agent they wanted to talk to, not him.
         "About the Magents . . ." Johan squinted at him, as if the room was twice as dark, "you even have them in your face, I just never looked close enough . . ." he trailed off again, seeming to fade in and out with every sentence.
         "Johan, snap out of it!" Tristian snarled in a heated whisper. Some of the guards were watching their exchange with muted interest. "What the hell are you talking about? You have to start making sense!"
         "Oh," was all the man said after a moment. And then he seemed to shake himself, though the terrible haunted look still swirled in his eyes. "Oh Tristian, oh . . . you don't understand, the Magents, they're legends . . . you don't know what they are . . ."
         "Trust me, I know perfectly well," Tristian replied dryly, not sure how much he believed himself. Knew them better than most people at least, he conceded, not sure if that was a good thing or not.
         "Ah, I guess you . . . you would but people . . . have, people have always talked about them, the legends you see, they say, they say the Magents can do great things and you never think . . ." he rubbed his face, as if trying to wake himself from some dread nightmare. "Oh lord, Tristian, Cloudion and the Magents in one day, just this morning I was walking home and . . . ah, I miss her so much, Tristian, you can't understand . . ." the man seemed on the verge of tearing himself in two with the effort of trying not to cry, "and I've seen all these . . . these wonderful things . . ." his eyes were shining and staring up at the ceiling, at the swirling banners that decorated the heights, the ones that seemed to swirl and dance with a life of their own. But Johan wasn't seeing any of it. "All these things, Tristian and she's not here and . . ." he looked at Tristian suddenly, staring him straight in the face with eyes that blazed with clear truth, "the price was too high, Tristian. It was just too high." Then he fell silent, trembling.
         "I know," was all Tristian said, feeling awkward and unemotional. Nothing like this had ever happened to him, people had died on him, people that he cared about, and he had cried for them and himself many times but someone as close to him as a wife . . . never. He never saw himself as having a wife, a girlfriend, anything. With his life, it just seemed unreal.
         By now they had reached the twin thrones. The king looked suitably regal, his face confident and impassive, the hint of a smile on his lips at the sight of the Magent, his hair jet black with the first signs of grey just begging to peek through. His robes were furred and soft and red. The crown was gold and jeweled, sitting on his head like it was made of air. His queen was no different, her face looking even younger, her bearing even more majestic. Her face held no emotion at all at the sight of the newcomers.
         "You may approach the throne," the king was saying even as Agent One went and did so anyway. Johan stopped just behind the Agent and to his left, getting down on one knee. Tristian stood on the other side of the Agent, just looking up, feeling a hundred eyes staring at him in wonderment. It made him feel naked.
         The king smiled blandly at that. "We see that one of you knows how to show the proper respect." The king shifted in his throne, facing Johan, who seemed to be shaking even as he stared intently at the rich carpet under his feet. "Rise, young man, so we may speak with you."
         Nearly stumbling in his effort to rise, Johan stood firmly before the king, hiding any sign of nervousness. Tristian could still see it in his stance but knew that Johan wouldn't let it get in the way.
         "Your majesties, if I may . . ." Agent One began to say.
         But the king talked right over him. "What is your name, young man, and how have you come to this place?"
         "I . . ." Johan swallowed heavily, "my name is Johan, sire and I come before you because my village was attacked, as well as the capital, by fearsome beasts. I was saved by this man here and the Magents, I owe my life to them many times over. The battles were fierce and the beasts are taking no prisoners. And I . . ." he looked down briefly and Tristian thought the man was going to mention Mari, "I don't think those attacks will be the last, sires."
         The king sat back again just the Agent started to speak again, "Which is exactly why we did to discuss-" but at a slight sign from the king one of the mages gestured and a golden dome surrounded the Agent, cutting off all sound from him. His expression was suitably irritated. Johan looked even more nervous now, while Tristian eyed the massive amounts of guards around him and wondered how many he would have to fight on his way out of here. Once again, he found himself wishing for his laser sword. He had lost the impromptu one that he had managed to procure for himself, leaving him nearly defenseless.
         "We will speak with you when the time comes," the king stated mildly, glancing at the Agent.
         "Is that wise?" the queen asked, a brief flash of worry crossing her otherwise pristine features.
         "The Magent steps in here without ceremony, after a long absense and then wishes us to simply stop everything to hear him," the king replied somewhat peevishly. "We will hear him on our own time."
         Suddenly the mage who's robes matched the color of the shield around the Agent gave a withering sort of sigh and slumped to the ground. The other assembled mages all turned to the king in surprise, just as the shield around the Agent blistered and cracked, falling away into pieces of golden debris. They vanished and fluttered before hitting the ground. The Agent had never moved.
         "As I was saying . . ." Agent One said, giving the slightest hint of an impish grin. Hands in his pockets, he looked soberly up at the king and said, "I knew I wasn't going to get the warmest of receptions, but I didn't expect downright rudeness."
         "You spoke out of turn, dear Magent," the queen told him mildly, her hands crossed under her chin, leaning forward on the arm of the throne. "The king would have dealt with you when he was finished with Johan."
         "You may have power, Magent, but you are still just a servant and as such are subject to our will," the king added.
         Agent One sighed. "You know, I thought we had dispensed with that nonsense centuries ago. I'm not one of your damned subjects and I will not be treated as such."
         "We see your position has not changed," the king noted. "Are your brothers still of the same mind as you, then?" He glanced around. "We do not see them around anywhere, where might they be? And your appearance has changed again, we see."
         "It happens," Agent One replied, a bit miffed. "And yes we all agree on this, even though my brothers are indisposed at the moment. We serve the true king and his line. You and your lineage have done a fine job of governing the land, but the king I advised has been dead centuries. I serve no other." Agent One nodded his head briefly. "I trust you to remember that."
         "Indeed," the king said evenly. And then his gaze seemed to settle on someone else. "But we see one with you who has your mark about him."
         "Place him in red robe and he might even be confused as a Magent himself," the queen murmured delicately, her eyes wandering over Tristian. Tristian glanced at her uncomfortably and then turned back to the king.
         "Who are you, young sir, that you walk with one such as this?" the king asked, turning to Tristian. "Might you be the true king, come to reclaim his throne at long last?"
         Tristian blinked at the question about his relation to royalty and then drew himself up to answer. Calmly, he replied, "My name is Tristian Jacart, sires, and, no, I am no king. I am merely a man who has been lucky enough to see wondrous things."
         "We find that interesting," the king said softly.
         "He has our mark about him, true," Agent One replied, cutting through the conversation, "but the Magents are not kings, merely the advisors of kings. The true king is dead and will not rise again, but we can come back and offer our aid in a time of crisis."
         "And you believe this is one of those times," came the question from the king, not really a question but less than a statement.
         "I have reason to believe so. The attacks on the towns and villages, and the ones Johan told you about will not be the last, they may not even be the first, are guided by a force that seeks to strangle everything in the land."
         There was a small gasp among those assembled. The mage that had been on the ground was getting up and shaking his head. Tristian could see him asking his comrades questions and by their gestures he could guess what they were telling him.
         Both king and queen were unmoved by this bold statement, however. "Shocking words, Magent, but have you proof of this force?"
         "Circumstantial, alas," Agent One replied, shaking his head. "The attacks I can sense are being directed but the force is subtle enough that only I can detect it. But rest assured, its stink is all over anything."
         "And you cannot attack it directly? Surely one of your power must even give evil such as this pause." The king's words were thinly laced with sarcasm but Tristian could tell that he had great respect and perhaps even fear for the Agent.
         "As much as I hate to admit this, the evil is stronger than I," the Agent responded, bowing his head briefly. "But that does not mean we can't fight. The beasts and other things that it enlist in its battles are but the arms. Destroy them and the head will remain defenseless, perhaps to be destroyed, perhaps to be sent back to finish off another day." The Agent shrugged. "Saving lives is the most important thing at this point, in my opinion. I know you've already got the capital evacuated-"
         "We do not," the king said suddenly, cutting the Agent off.
         Agent One blinked. "Excuse me?"
         "We have not moved anyone, in fact we have not heard word of any battles fought until you came to us today."
         "Then . . ." the Agent seemed shocked for a moment. Without another word, he recovered, continuing, "Then they are probably safe. We can deal with that later. Armies have to be mobilized, people have to be warned and moved."
         "How large of a threat are you speaking of here, Magent?" the king asked, now showing some confusion. Obviously he hadn't expected full scale war.
         "Everyone is in danger," Agent One replied evenly. "If you have any enemies of state, your majesty, I advise you to make peace with them now, because you're going to want everyone on your side that you can."
         "Hm," was all the king said, musing over these facts. Finally, he said, "We shall have to discuss these plans in more detail somewhere else. Soon."
         "The sooner the better," Agent One responded. "As we speak, forces are forming against me and you that my power can only do so much against."
         "Very well, we will meet in an hour's time to discuss this in my private chambers." Agent One merely nodded at this, though Tristian got the feeling he was being afforded great honor. He wondered how many people knew what the Agent really was, an energy being and not some supremely powerful human mage. "Meanwhile your companions will be given rooms and a chance to wash the stink of the road off themselves. One of our retainers will be assigned to them later to help and assist them." The king waved almost lazily. "You are all dismissed for the moment."
         "Very good," Agent One said, as the castellan came to lead them out of the room. Their footsteps echoed briefly and then the doors shut with a muted clang and they were gone.
         The king watched those doors for a long time before suddenly turning to one of the assembled mages, saying, "Get to the library and retreive every record on the Magents and their visits. We wish to know what to expect this time." The mage bowed and hurried out of the room, trailing green lights behind him.
         The king rubbed his forehead and sighed, turning to his queen. She smiled at him and said, "The crown lies heavy, does it not?"
         The king smiled weakly back. "Something does weigh on me, my dear, but I'm afraid that's not it." His eyes wandered back to the closed doors. "Something else entirely." And he said nothing more.