Son of Ren Preview: Updated

Vision

Something had to be done. The battle had taken a harsh toll on Elkay, and it had taken him two whole days to gather enough strength to stand on his feet. His counselors and a few skilled warriors had come to speak with him several times, and Elkay had heard more than enough of war. The art of war, they had called it, but if so, war was a deadly art.

The seasoned commander had told Elkay in grave tones that he would be driving off such bands of gormbeasts for the rest of his reign, just as his forebearers did. When Elkay asked why they were so vulnerable to attacks, every soldier had given the same answer. "Marble walls cannot hide a realm's weakness," they had said. "Ages ago Southland was one kingdom, but the king died and his family warred. At last they split Southland into eight realms. Now Stanren stands alone, giving our enemies an advantage: alone we are weak and an easy prize."

Eight realms stood alone with no help. Eight realms that were once Southland. Searching the map he had drawn for himself when he was first named lord of Stanren, Elkay traced the eight realms with his finger: Stanren, Hallat, Samlos, Ganpen, Dillifor, Fapen, Kadafer, Gulrod. So many little domains, so little strength. He could not forget Aldal's words in the armory. If the realms were pieced back together, what army of gormbeasts would dare to attack a strong kingdom? Elkay asked the question to himself many times, and each time a thrill ran through his heart. The thought of a kingdom inspired him.

A vision appeared in Elkay's mind. A vast army stood before the gates of a kingdom, united under one banner, each defending all his kin. Southland was gone, but Elkay would build a new kingdom standing against Kabar and all its other enemies.

On the third morning, when he could no longer bear to lie useless in his bed, Elkay summoned his council of ten to the hall where his fathers used to take counsel. Many of these counselors were his friends, and all were for him, but the thought of what trouble his words might bring seemed to bar their faces with iron.

Iron-faced counselors could not stop Elkay. His heart had been given a task. "My lords," Elkay began when the council had taken seats before the blazing fire, "I need your counsel now more than I ever have before. Each man is given a task to complete in his lifetime, and now I have been given a hard task. A kingdom must be built."

At this every man in the room froze, as if Elkay had spoken an incantation which turned them to stone. Elkay pressed on though his heart was in his mouth with every word. "For generations our enemies have attacked the eight realms in the south. Has no one dared made an alliance between the eight?"

The eldest man present leaned heavily upon the arm of his chair. "My lord knows of our long friendship with Eben in Hallat."

"No, that isn't it." Elkay leaned forward and searched the hearth for words. "Has none tried to reunite the eight realms of Southland?"

The old counselor sighed. "No, lord, not since the fall of the ancient king."

"Why then do you speak of such things?" Another man, dark of mien, eyed Elkay with suspicion.

"These realms should not struggle alone. They are brothers, all men of Southland; shouldn't brothers dwell as one?" Several of the counselors nodded in assent.

The dark-faced man did not nod his head, but rather shook it and closed his hands before his chin. He scrutinized Elkay. "This world is nearly twelve hundred years old," he said, "fully grown, set as if in marble."

"He is right," agreed another beside him with a nod. "The forms in the world will never change."

"No," returned Elkay, "the world is not set in marble, but rather in wet clay, hardening every moment. The longer we wait to bend it, the more difficult it will be to change it.