THIRTY-FOUR - Riordan

Riordan attempts to set right the wrongs of Xantom's past.

Esmarine turned away from Riordan and the two of them went their separate ways.  Riordan stopped and turned around.  I wonder if she’s actually going to do what she’s told for once.  He watched as she continued walking towards her house.  Well, what do you know?

He turned around to head back for the castle.  Now that he was sure she was safe, he could get back to work.  If we get caught, I don’t want Esmarine to be there.  She has nothing to do with this.  Vanderford was still hard at work trying to get through the immovable rock that blocked the secret passage to the Exiled.  He doesn’t want to see me right now… but there are other things that I can accomplish while he wastes his energy down there.

The passage hadn’t always been a secret.  But as Xanthus VII got closer to death, he began to exile everyone who knew anything about it.  Mainly, that meant the King’s Guard.  Over a period of three weeks, every member of the Guard had been exiled to the Barelands until only Riordan was left.  It’s only a matter of time, he remembered thinking.

Even now, he couldn’t be positive that the passage below the city was the reason for the exile of the King’s Guard, but he had his hunch.  Over the years, he and the other members of the Order came to the conclusion that Seven must have been trying to erase certain things from the public memory.  If he hadn’t begun to lose his memory at the end, he may have succeeded.

As he walked through the city and reached the castle steps, he remembered clearly the time he had confronted Xanthus VII about the Exiles.  He had left his home and walked up these very steps and headed to the Passing of the Seventh.  Of course, it wasn’t called that in those days.

He stood in front of the King’s bed, looked him right in the eyes, and asked, “Am I next, Sir?”

“What do you mean?”  The King seemed unaware of his surroundings.  He had moments of lucidity but now was not one of them.  His eyes glazed over as he lay in his bed.  He could barely lift his head.  Either he’s playing dumb, or he has forgotten his decision.  Both are equally likely at this point, he had thought.

A young and newly promoted Vanderford stood watch over the room.  Riordan had been summoned to a meeting with the King and had come at once.  He was certain he knew what this meant�"he was going to be exiled like all the rest of his former brothers in the Guard.  If I’m going out, I’m at least going to know the real reason why.

“You know full well what I mean, Sir,” Riordan responded.  “Am I to be exiled like the rest of them?”  After Draven’s exile only a week prior, Riordan had been promoted to Head of the King’s Guard.  It was a position he knew wouldn’t last long, yet he had accepted the position anyway.  I will do my duty until I am no longer able or until the King deems it unacceptable.  Either I will be exiled, or the King will die and I will be left to guard his horrible son, Xanthus VIII.

“Exiled?” The King asked.  “What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything, Sir.  But in the past few weeks you’ve exiled almost the entire King’s Guard, as well as a few of the Healers and Record-Keepers.  I don’t know what you’re up to, Sir, but it just seemed like�"”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Xanthus VII whispered.  It seemed difficult for him to get the words out, like every breath caused him more pain than the last.  “We all die.  There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Sir.  Am I to be exiled?”

Xanthus VII took a deep breath and coughed harshly before responding.  Even then, all he could manage to get out was a single word.  “Depends.”

“On what, Sir?”  The only response Riordan got was more coughing.  It’s probably futile to ask him another question, but I have to know.  “Why did you exile the others?”

“…couldn’t be swayed.”

He started coughing again, worse than before.  Riordan stood by, helpless.  He looked towards the door.  Why isn’t Willoughby or one of the other Healers here?  Oh, he exiled the rest of them.  Finally, Xanthus stopped coughing.  He sat up in bed, his eyes focused on Riordan and he seemed completely connected, at least for the time being.

“Is there anything that I can do for you, Sir?”

“It’s over.  Do you understand?  The others thought we could keep going, that I should let one of them take over.  But I can’t.  There’s just no point to any of it.  What are we fighting so hard for?  No matter what we do, we’re all going to die.  Nothing is going to change that.  All we’re doing is struggling and fighting to survive… for what?  So that we can keep struggling and fighting.  At a certain point, you just have to stop.  I’m done prolonging the inevitable.  I’m putting an end to the suffering, and giving this city exactly what it needs�"a push over the edge.”

“What are you talking about?  We aren’t just surviving.  People have lives, and families.”

“That’s exactly what the others said.  But you don’t understand.”

“I understand you’re tired.  I know that you’re sick, and you think we have nothing to live for… but you’re closing your eyes to�"”

“THIS IS NOT LIFE!” Xanthus shouted.  Immediately after, he collapsed onto his bed and coughed, choking on his own saliva.  Riordan rushed to his side, but Xanthus shoved him away.  At last, he managed to calm his breathing.

“What is it that you’re planning to do, exactly?  Are you going to kill everyone in the city?  If that’s the case, I won’t be swayed, either.  Exile me now.”

Xanthus shook his head.  “Not kill them.  Let them die.  Better off that way.”

“So… what, exactly?  You’re going to stop distributing food and supplies, and wait for them to starve to death?”

“It will be quick.”

“I’d almost prefer you killed them.”

Riordan had left the room after this, disgusted by the whole conversation.  It doesn’t matter.  Xanthus is hours away from death.  Days, at best.  He can’t stop us from distributing food and supplies once he’s gone.  I’ll take over.  Whatever I have to do to help, I’ll do it.  It’s my duty.  Xanthus just isn’t thinking clearly.  Hopefully he dies before he’s able to Exile me.

The very steps that Riordan walked up now, he had walked down after that meeting, fuming.  As he neared the bottom, the ground began to shake.  A loud rumbling sound echoed throughout the entire city.  Buildings shook, and Riordan lost his balance, rolling down the last few steps and collapsing into the dirt at the bottom.  Thankfully I wasn’t higher up, he had thought.

Everywhere, dust rose in the streets, blocking out the light from the torches. As if it weren’t already hard enough to see.  He heard people running through the streets, screaming.  What could have caused the ground to shake?

There were cries of “The world is ending!” and “We’re all going to die!” and “We’ve angered the Dome, it’s going to swallow us up!” as people ran frantically through the streets, searching for their loved ones.  The panic lasted for an hour, but nothing more happened.  For days, people worried that there would be another quake, but then it wasn’t talked about anymore.  People seemed to forget it had happened.  They returned to focusing on surviving each day.  The quake had been a warning, they decided.

Of course, Riordan knew now what that had been.  Xanthus had collapsed the tunnel to the Outskirts, blocking their method of getting supplies, effectively killing everyone in Xantom.  They just didn’t know it yet.

A few days after the quake, as Riordan had predicted, Xanthus died.  Before a formal announcement was made to the city, Willoughby called a meeting of the new King’s Guard to discuss where things would go from here.  Riordan remembered walking into the room and recognizing no one but Vanderford.  Willoughby must have promoted a few random men from the city guard.  They’re so young, and they have no idea what’s going on here.  He had sat down at the table all the same.

“As a few of you know,” Willoughby began, “Xanthus left me in charge until his son comes of age.  I will be sure to teach him the proper ways of taking care of people and running a city.  When the day comes that he is old enough and expected to rule, he will be prepared.”

Willoughby blathered on for a while longer, but Riordan stopped listening.  Everything was changing so quickly, and after everything Xanthus had told him, he knew the city would never make it that long.  Eventually, the meeting was adjourned and the rest of the King’s Guard returned to their posts.  Riordan, however, followed Willoughby back to his chambers.

“How long do we have?” he asked.

“Until what?” Willoughby said.

“Don’t play dumb.  You know what Seven told me in his Chambers.  That quake�"I don’t know what it was, but I bet it was Xanthus’s doing.  Am I right?”

“The quake was a natural�"”

“I’m right.  Based on what the King was saying, I’m assuming it had something to do with blocking our supply trail.  Did you have anything to do with it?”

“I can assure we, we have reserves in our supplies to last us for quite a long time.  Now, if you would excuse me, I have�"”

“We have reserves.  But we have no way of getting new supplies.  So I’ll ask you again... how long do we have?”

Willoughby slammed the door closed behind Riordan.  “You have to stop this,” he said.  “It doesn’t matter!  We were never going to live forever, you have to know that.  This was Xanthus’s decision, and I aim to follow through on it.”

“You’re planning on killing everyone.”

“I won’t be killing anyone.  I will, however, let nature take its course.  If everyone dies, that’s the way it was supposed to be.  If people can find a way to make this situation work and are willing to make sacrifices, then more power to them!  The people who survive this will certainly have earned it.  But this world is not a good place to live.  It is harsh, it is cruel, and people are unhappy.  If they don’t want to go on, why force them to go on being miserable?”

“They should have been given a choice.  But the decision was made for them.”

“I wasn’t the one who made the decision,” Willoughby spat.  “Xanthus did.  And now, there’s nothing we can do about it.  Pretty soon, everyone will probably be dead.  And then it won’t really matter anymore, will it?”

“I won’t take part in this.”

“You already have.  You knew something was happening, and you didn’t stop us.  Now it’s too late.”

“I should kill you for this.”

“Like everyone else in this city, I’m already dead.  But if you feel the need to speed up the process…” he opened his arms wide and closed his eyes.  Riordan considered pulling out his sword but didn’t make a move.  After a beat, Willoughby opened his eyes again.  “No?  I didn’t think so.”  He dropped his arms to his side.  “Now, be a dear and be on your way.  You have a city to guard.”

“I quit,” Riordan said plainly.  “If being a member of the King’s Guard means that I have to sit by and watch you destroy this city, then I’m out.  Even if there’s nothing I can do, I don’t have to pretend I’m okay with it.”

“This is strange… what is a common citizen doing inside the castle walls without permission?  If you don’t leave at once I’ll have you executed.”

“You’re a piece of s**t.  I hope you know that.”

“You aren’t the first to say that, but I guarantee you’ll be the last.  This city will be dead before anyone knows what happened.  And I’m the hero who saved everyone from a lifetime full of suffering.”

Riordan could see there was no point in arguing further.  He took off his sword and dropped it at Willoughby’s feet.  “Consider this my official resignation.”  He turned and walked from the room and didn’t turn back.

On his way out of the castle, he saw that Vanderford was standing guard at the entrance.  The man stood guard while Xanthus doomed us all.  Either he knows what happened, or he has the worst luck of anyone.

Riordan still wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he stopped to talk to the man before heading back out into the city.

“You guarded the King while he was dying,” Riordan said.

“Yes.”  Vanderford spoke cautiously, unsure where Riordan was leading.  I’m sure the fact that I no longer have my sword isn’t helping matters, either.  “Why?”

“I was wondering how much the King said to you before he died.  Or if perhaps you might know anything about the quake that shook Xantom a few days ago?”

“The King never said much to me.  Most of the time he was barely coherent.  But I don’t think, even on his good days, that he had anything he wanted to tell me.”

“I pity you.  You don’t even know how bad things are about to get.  The King caved in our supply line.  We have no way of getting anything more.”

Vanderford had studied him for a long time before responding.  He answered hesitantly, as though he were being tested.  “What the King does is the King’s right.  My job is to protect him.”

“You were the guard at his door.  What do you think people are going to say if they find out you were there when the King effectively killed everyone in the city?”

Vanderford thought hard.  “What are you suggesting?”

“Quit.  Leave the King’s Guard with me.  This isn’t a good place to be anymore.  You’ll die a slow and painful death like everyone else.”

“How will I be able to help anyone from the outside?  What exactly are you planning to do to fix this?”

“I don’t know.  We can figure that out together.”

“I think I can do more good if I remain on the King’s Guard,” he had said.  “I’ll still have access to the castle, to the records, and I’ll know everything that’s happening on this level.”

“Are you saying you’re in?”

“The Guard has to look out for each other,” Vanderford had responded.

That was many years earlier, but Riordan couldn’t help but think about it as he walked past the Passing of the Seventh now.  We were so much more focused in those early days of The Order.  When the disaster we thought was coming didn’t hit, we stopped putting in as much effort.  This is as much our fault as it is Xanthus’s.  And Vanderford… I got him into this.  Maybe if I had done things differently with Seven, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.

It was far too late to worry about any of that now.  Truthfully, it was amazing that the city had survived even this long.  Apparently supply reserves were more plentiful than even Xanthus had thought.  But now things were finally nearing the end.  If Vanderford couldn’t get the passage open, this was the end.  Maybe Willoughby knew how they could cause another quake to open up the tunnel.

Riordan made his way to the Healers Room.  If what Esmarine said was true and Thaddeus was busy sleeping with Xanthia, Willoughby was likely alone.  With Xanthus out of the city, now was the perfect time to pay him a visit.  If you can’t provide me with what I need, it might be time to follow through on a promise I made to you a long time ago.

He walked past the King’s Chambers, and finally found himself outside the Healers Room.  The wooden door was closed.

Riordan pressed his ear to the door to see if he could hear anything happening within.  No noise came from inside the room, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  Who knew what Willoughby was up to most of the time?  He turned the latch slowly and then quickly burst through the door.  Willoughby was sitting at his desk, writing by candlelight.  He practically leapt through the ceiling when the door opened.  He whirled around and squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness who had disturbed him.

“Is that Silvan again?  I told you to return to your post.  There’s a lot of peacekeeping to be done�"” he started.

“It’s not Silvan.”

Willoughby swallowed hard.  He recognizes my voice.  I’m sure of it.

“How long has it been, Willoughby?”

“A l-long time.  How have you been, R-Riordan?” he asked, clearly trying to mask his fear.  Riordan found this reaction fascinating.  It wasn’t death the man was afraid of, he had made that clear many years ago.

“What are you working on?” Riordan asked.  “You looked like you were writing something pretty important.  Don’t let me stop you.”

“It’s nothing, really.  Just some historical documents about the crisis we’re currently in.  You wouldn’t be interested.”

“Why don’t you show them to me?  Oddly enough, history is the exact reason I’m here today.  You might remember a certain quake from a long time ago?  I need to know how to make that happen again.”

“Impossible,” Willoughby said.  “We don’t have the supplies.  They’ve been used up.  I don’t know if you’ve seen the supply room, but we’re out of pretty much everything.”

“Well maybe you can show me the old records.  There might be something in there that will spark your memory.”

“It’s funny you should ask that.  We actually, eh… there aren’t any historical documents from before Seven died…”

Impossible.  “What do you mean?”

“They were… tragically lost.  In a fire.  Nothing we could have done about it.  So all he have left is… well, what you see here.”

Riordan peered across Willoughby’s desk.  There was a very small stack of papers, nothing more.  He did it on purpose.

“How convenient for you that you got to literally rewrite history.  It’s a shame… I didn’t want to have to kill you today, but it looks like I don’t have much of a choice.”  Riordan took a step forward.

“Please don’t!” Willoughby blurted, raising his hands in fear.

Riordan stopped in the center of the room.  “I thought you weren’t afraid of death.  Everybody dies, right?  That’s what you told me.”

“I may have�"had a change of heart about that.”

“So did I.”  Riordan ran at the frail man, pulling the knife out of his back pocket.  Just as he was about to press it into the Healer’s neck, there was a loud BOOMing sound from beneath their feet.  The castle shook, the candle fell off the desk and both men tumbled to the ground.

“What was that?” Riordan shouted.  “I thought you told me you were out of supplies to make that sort of thing!”  He took the old man in his hands and shook him.  “What have you done?!”

Their shadows danced across the walls as the candle rolled in a small circle underneath the desk.

“It wasn’t me this time, I swear!”

There wasn’t time to argue.

Vanderford.  He must be in trouble.