Ted Dekker - Mortal

A man of destiny like himself.

Despite the tic, he listened in silence-a sign of surety and resolve.

“What I have to say, you will want to hear,” Roland said. “All I ask is that you hear it alone.”

Still no reaction. Just that dark stare, so like a vulture’s on a fresh piece of carrion. This was not turning into the kind of confrontation Roland had anticipated.

“I have men in the trees above us. If I wanted to engage you, I would have without first exposing myself. I want no bloodshed. Only peace. But for that I must talk to you alone.”

“Who are you to speak to me alone?”

“Roland Akara. Prince of the Nomads.”

Saric seemed unaffected by his name.

“You see the man on my left?” Saric said. “His name is Brack. I am the kinder soul between us. I pity you if any harm were to come to me.”

Roland gave the man a curt nod. “You see the woman behind me? Her name is Michael. She is one of a thousand like her. I pity you if any of them led our people in a mission to strike, unseen, like serpents when you least expected it.”

Saric nodded slowly. “Brack, follow.”

Saric flipped his reins and guided his mount forward, toward the barren land rising to the west, away from the trees. Brack fell in behind, eyes on Roland.

He turned his horse and rode parallel to them until Saric pulled up and faced him, fifty paces from the others. Michael held her position, along with the entire Dark Blood army. The breeze had fallen off-they were no doubt stifling and sweating in their armor, but black granite would have moved more.

“You have your audience,” Saric said. “Speak.”

“You are aware of the Nomads.”

Saric didn’t respond.

“For generations we resisted Order. Our breeding runs deep and our purpose is simple. We would survive outside of this religion that holds the dead hostage to lies. We want one thing: freedom. And we want it without any harm to others.”

“What does this have to do with Jonathan?”

“We have no ambition for power. Our joining with Jonathan was only done in service to a Sovereign who promised to unveil the truth once he came into office. What that meant for us is that as a people we would no longer have to live out of Order. We would pursue life in peace. But that has changed. You changed it. Feyn is Sovereign, and because of that Jonathan can never be. Any struggle for his claim now would be futile.”

Saric nodded. “Go on.”

“I find myself between two enemies. You, who would protect Feyn’s Sovereignty, and Jonathan, whom others hope will seize it from her. My duty is to protect my people. As their prince, I would pay any price to ensure their safety.”

He let the statement stand.

“You are offering to give me the boy,” Saric said.

“I am offering to save both of us limitless bloodshed and ensure the future of my people. If one man must die to that end, so be it. Many thousands of lives will be saved.”

“I’m to believe you have both the means and the will to betray the one you have sworn to protect? I see no gain for you. I could take Jonathan and still hunt your kind down.”

“I have the means but my delivery of him will be my proof. And my gain would be this: an irrevocable mandate passed by the senate and ratified by Feyn giving Nomads the freedom to live out of Order and suffer whatever destiny the Maker sees fit to grant us in return.”

Saric’s lips twisted slightly. “Surely you don’t believe in the Maker’s end.”

“I believe in life, now, as it was meant to be lived. And so your senate would offer me full authority to rule my people as I see fit, with our own government, recognized by Order. And I will be welcome at the Citadel as a foreign ruler as long as my people pose no threat to peace.”

Saric studied him for several seconds. Whether or not the Overlord trusted him, he couldn’t tell, but he seemed to be pleased. Or at least, he smelled like it, assuming Roland had correctly identified the scent.

Roland waited.

“I find your proposal absurd,” Saric said at last. “Order cannot be turned on its head at the whim of one Nomad. What assurance would I have that you would give me the boy?”

“Then you admit acquiring him is in your interest?”

“Anyone who poses a threat to the legitimate Sovereign is a person of interest to me.”

“And yet you yourself pose a threat to her office and the Order it serves by building an army prohibited by Order. You have your purpose; I have mine. We are not so different.”

“You are too bold, Nomad.”

“I am the seventeenth prince to rule my people. We have always been bold. But not once has our purpose diverted from our sacred calling to be separate. I have no intention of allowing that purpose to fail us now. I went to great lengths to bring you here.”

“You could have come to me.”

“It was necessary that you understood our commitment and strength. We want peace, but not enough to die quietly.”

“Assuming I granted this freedom, you might still rise against me one day.”

“To what end?”

“To rule more than your own.”

“At the expense of my people? You don’t know as much as you assume.”

Saric’s horse pawed the earth beneath him. The Dark Blood tilted his head.

“They say you believe yourselves to have found life. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Roland said. “And we aim to keep that life, not shed it in a war that isn’t our own.”

“Assuming I were to agree, how would you deliver the boy?”

“You will push the mandate through the senate immediately. Once it is ratified by the Sovereign, I will lead you to him. Not just to him-but also to the Keepers who have vowed to see him in power.”

“And if the Sovereign fails to sign?”

Roland shrugged. “Then you would have an enemy you don’t care to have.”

He could see the man’s mind at work, searching for any weakness in the agreement.

“Brack?”

Saric’s man hesitated only a moment before speaking. “I see no challenge to your purpose, my Lord.”

Naturally. They were both fully aware that any law passed by the senate would not stand in Saric’s way if he chose to force his hand. He could and would come after any Nomad if he saw any threat in them… at any time.

“I will agree to your terms,” Saric said. “But if you do not give me the boy before his eighteenth birthday, I withdraw my agreement.”

He started to turn his mount.

“There is but one more thing,” Roland said. “A guarantee.”

Saric paused, arched a brow at him.

“You will give us Feyn to hold until the exchange is made.”

A smile slowly distorted his face. “Feyn?”

“I am no more a fool than you. I will care for her as one of my own. No harm will come to her.”

“Only a fool would demand the Sovereign as surety.”

“You say this, but you already know that we won’t hurt her. If Feyn were to die, you would be Sovereign. You have nothing to lose.”

“You know more than you let on, Nomad. Perhaps I underestimated you.”

“Our resolve to be left alone in peace has been bred in us for centuries. I do what is necessary to that end.”

“I will present this to my Sovereign,” Saric said.

“I assumed she served you, my Lord.”

Saric gave him a bland look. “Then you assume too much.”

“Either way.”

“Either way, you have your agreement. If Feyn is not here, in this valley, in two days’ time consider that agreement cancelled.”

He started to turn.

“Tomorrow,” Roland said. “If you require the boy before he comes of age, we have little time.”

Saric glanced at him for a long moment, then kicked his horse.

“Tomorrow,” he said.