by Bryant Reil
“I do,” he replied, “and she’s come up with a plan to settle all this unrest in the world. Part of my job was to retrieve something for her. Imagine my surprise to learn it was here in Ja’ava.”
“She’s collecting the stones as well? Did you tell her about Sophrosyne?”
Marik chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “She isn’t ready to hear it. I’d keep quiet about our affiliations, if I were you.”
“If she’s working with Sventali, why have the demons gotten so uppity with the rest of us? You know they’re arresting foreigners, right? Why’s the Queen letting that happen?”
Marik shrugged. “No idea.”
“Oh. We still need to go back and get Saul and Zen.”
“I doubt they’re still there. If they didn’t run, then they’re captured. Or dead.”
Kyla knew he was probably right, though she was confident that between the two of them, Saul and Zen were smart enough to escape.
“Are we going to get the stone?” She wasn’t sure where else he might be leading her.
“Yes. I figured that’s why you came here. Lucky you ran into me. You’d never find it on your own.”
Kyla didn’t believe in luck anymore. There was always a Sophrosyne or Queen Titania or Marik behind the scenes. She wondered why Marik bothered with the stone if he was no longer working for Sophrosyne, though if he worked for Titania now, it made sense she would want to collect them for the same reason: to keep them out of the wrong hands. But why turn to Marik, of all people?
Sophrosyne, the daughter of Chaos, had been enemy to the World of Order for millions of years. It was strange, and unsettling, that she was the only person Kyla now felt she could trust.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dealing with Devils
The air grew dimmer and colder as they descended a series of sloping corridors. Marik kept consulting a roughly-drawn map, and several times had to retrace his steps. He also muttered as they walked, and so Kyla felt uncomfortable trying to speak to him, though she had many questions regarding why he was here and where they were going.
Occasionally they would pass trios of guards wearing black armor adorned with red ribbons and sashes. Their heralds were marked with a black flame on a field of red. They held long spears, also black, and had rough notches carved into the heads. Rivulets ran from the tip of each spear to the butt, and each flowed with crimson fluid that disappeared before it hit the floor.
Each time a set of guards were encountered, one would lower his spear and brace himself, and Marik would hold up a document with glowing orange letters and a large red seal, and they would grumble, and let them pass. What had Marik done to obtain such power here? He was only Anh-Bul’s secretary.
Then again, Kyla had only been a messenger, and now she was Chief of the Digans in Alfheim and Queen of the Ciguapa near Laenith. So, it looked like promotions all around.
Eventually the torches disappeared, and the tunnels turned dark, so Kyla pulled her light orb back out of her purse and tapped it on.
“Thank you.” Marik frowned. “Our destination is farther than I expected. There should be a door ahead.”
There was, though it was a few more minutes to reach it. It was so indistinct as to be distinct: a small, flat, metal door with no adornment. It was guarded by two soldiers. Kyla supposed these poor demons must have been standing here in the dark by themselves, quite a distance from their comrades.
Marik once again held up his parchment, but as he did the two guards crossed their spears to block his way.
“None may enter save the High Lord Sventali.”
Marik thrust his notice into the face of the guard on his right. “I have permission to travel as I please! Sealed by Lord Sventali himself.”
“The Seal of the High Lord does not permit entry into the Lower Chamber. Only Lord Sventali himself may pass.”
Marik thrust the parchment at the other guard, who didn’t even change expression. He did move his spear toward Marik’s face, and the blood-like rivulets reached out.
Marik stepped back and sputtered. “I was told I could go anywhere in the Palace save the Throne Room and Sventali’s private quarter! It says right here!”
“Lord Sventali does not include the Lower Chamber in the command, as the Lower Chamber does not exist.”
“If it doesn’t exist, surely it can’t hurt anyone if we go in.” The words flew out of Kyla’s mouth before she realized she didn’t want to get involved.
Both guards’ eyes dropped to meet hers. The one on the left spoke.
“There is no door here for you to enter. It is a dead end.”
Marik pulled the small sack from his shoulder. “Perhaps this might convince you.” Kyla gasped and stepped away as he drew out his hand. Limp snakes drooped between his fingers as he held aloft what looked to be a head. The two guards grunted as their bodies stiffened, and were silenced as they froze in place, gray and hard as stone.
“Is that Director Anh-Bul?” Kyla squeaked.
“Yes. The Queen decided to have him replaced as Director.”
Queen Titania may have fired Anh-Bul. He wasn’t especially good at his job. But she certainly wouldn’t have had him killed. Would she?
Marik shoved the writhing head back into his bag and pressed his hand against the now-unguarded door. It opened at his touch. Kyla held back until he turned his head and looked at her with bloodshot eyes, a flick of his head signalling her forward. He was going mad. She took a breath and followed.
***
Saul lay with his back against the wall of a large black building. Scaled spires reached into the darkness above. He could hear faint voices, but the echoes of the subterranean city made it difficult to pinpoint the source. Lili, though she seemed to know where she was going, was understandably concerned about running into a patrol, and was getting frustrated in the endless series of short-cuts and dead ends to avoid them.
“By the fires of Loz Mar,” she muttered as she returned from peering around the corner. “Six of them with a Lieutenant. They’ll split into two patrols of three. Wait here until I signal.”
She returned to the corner of the building and peered around, her right hand held back with palm out and fingers outstretched to warn them to stay back.
A twinge of pain ran up Saul’s leg. A bundle of nerves a few inches from the injury, perhaps just now realizing something bad had happened, throbbed and pulsed. He clenched his teeth to hold in a scream. Zen threw a hand over Saul’s mouth. Lili turned, her face sweating.
“They’re coming!” she hissed and grabbed Zen and Saul each by a wrist and pushed them toward a doorway that was recessed into the front of the building.
Saul stumbled as the pain seared up his leg and into his back and had to bite down on his lower lip to prevent any sound from escaping. Lili flattened him against the wall inside the recess, her back to the road. He could feel her quick breaths on his shoulder, and the trembling of her body. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.
The clamor of metal armor and hooves on the stone ground drew closer. Lili took another breath and swung the door open, giving Saul a quick kiss on the lips before throwing him into the dark. She grabbed Zen by the arm and shoved him inside as well, shutting the door as he collapsed into the dark corridor.
Saul mentally berated himself for having no plan as he listened to Lili respond to the shouts of the guards in a language he didn’t understand.
***
Kyla tried to fall back and follow from a distance, but Marik kept stopping and frowning at her until she caught up. Twice he reached for the sack in which he carried Anh-Bul’s head. Was he threatening her? Or worried about running into more guards? Had he murdered Anh-Bul, or only taken his head after he was already dead?
A rush of heat blasted from an archway ahead, followed by a fiery light. Marik put a hand on the bandaged wound on her side and tried to shove her forward, but she dug in her heels and stood firm.
“Come on,” he growled. “This is wh
ere I need you.”
She approached the archway, and a flame shot forward. She held up her hand, her iron ring extended as far as she could reach, and the flames stopped, and swirled, and formed into the flickering shape of a great elemental.
“For what purpose do you seek the Stele of Bachtris, great wizard?”
Marik stepped forward. “I need—”
“Silence before your Master!” The elemental blazed.
“She is no Master of mine!” Marik shouted back.
“Yeah, he’s more a kidnapper than a servant,” Kyla scowled.
A fiery appendage extended from the elemental, who looked at Kyla. “You have been captured? Shall I slay him?”
It was a tempting thought, but she didn’t feel quite right doing so. He had clearly become villainous – or perhaps always was – but she was not eager to deal death. The loss of her father, she supposed, had given her a more poignant understanding of the value of a life.
She shook her head. “No. Not unless he hurts me first.” At least she could keep herself protected.
She was tremendously curious as to why the fire elementals were so disposed to serve the bearer of this ring, but as with Anhanguera in the ciguapa temple, she thought better of challenging the decision.
“Guard the way,” she instructed him. “If anyone tries to follow us inside, stop them. I trust the stone is further in?”
“It is in the chamber yonder. You must know that although I cannot harm you, great wizard, I serve the Lord of the palace and will not protect you from him.”
Kyla nodded. “Fair enough.” She couldn’t have hoped for a better deal, so was happy to take it.
She looked back at Marik. “Come on. Hurry up.”
She saw Marik’s hand reaching for the bag, but all she needed to do was glance from him to the looming fire elemental and his hand snapped back into place at his side.
The corridor led to an archway into a round room with walls that curved up into a dome. In the center was a pit, and over the pit a fragment of black stone. It was almost the same as the inner sanctum of the ciguapa temple.
Unlike the ciguapa temple, the stone in this chamber hovered over a plinth. The plinth was on a large slab of stone. A narrow walkway joined the slab to the floor at the edge of the pit, though the walkway didn’t look near strong enough to support the slab. Yet it did.
Kyla, with an eye on Marik, inched forward. As she approached the plinth, a circle of unfamiliar symbols carved into the stone glowed with violet light as low rumbling noise vibrated through the ground.
“A trap!” Marik put his hand into the bag containing Anh-Bul’s head, though he was looking around and not at Kyla.
Trap or no, Kyla felt her best choice was to grab the stone and try to escape back down into the garbage chutes and find Saul and Zen. She ran forward but was thrown back by a loud zap and the appearance of two figures in front of her. One she recognized as Aethelwyne. The other was a large demon with horns as long as his arm that curled away from his head. He wore a silver crown decked with rubies and flowing black and red robes that licked with flame. In his right hand he held a metal scepter with a pulsating red crystal that hovered above the tip.
“The Queen!” Kyla shouted. “Take me to the Queen. I know this looks bad, but these stones are exactly what Erebus was looking for. They are part of a spell that was used to defeat Chaos, but some people were using them to try to wake him up again. If you ask her—”
“You are looking at the Queen,” Aethelwyne replied.
“What?”
Marik stepped beside Kyla and kneeled.
She scuttled backward on all fours. “What? What happened to Queen Titania?”
“Titania is dead, and Oberon believed dead. I am to be crowned tomorrow as the new Empress of Order.”
Lord Sventali snorted. Kyla noted his surprise at Aethelwyne’s comment.
“I know about these stones,” Aethelwyne continued. “I was kept in the loop regarding the one you turned in to Elial Ciana. Terrible shame you aren’t kneeling, by the way.”
“Oh? Sorry. It’s just, Titania never made me kneel.”
“She never asked for, nor received, the respect due a monarch, which is partly what led to the current state of dissent and disorder in the world. I am straightening it out.”
There was an air of haughtiness to Aethelwyne’s voice. Kyla debated, for a moment, defying Aethelwyne’s request, but at a fiery glare from the demon, she lowered herself to one knee, and looked down. The fire elemental down the corridor was not coming to Kyla’s rescue, so she knew this must be Lord Sventali himself.
“Wait a minute!” Kyla leaped to her feet. “I’m Queen of the Ciguapa. And Chief of the Digans. I shouldn’t be bowing to you.”
Aethelwyne sneered. “Queen of a mythical jungle band? And a Chief hardly measures up to a Queen. Besides, I’m to be an Empress, to whom all the Nations of the World of Order will bow. Lord Sventali, this woman has broken into your palace. How do you feel she should be punished?”
Lord Sventali sneered. “The Alliance of Embers has not agreed to an Empress. You shall answer to us who set you on the throne.”
“Later, dear. Trust me. You will support my plan when I divulge it in full.”
“We shall see. But do not think to overstep your authority.”
Aethelwyne waved a dismissive hand. “Not in front of the prisoner. She has broken into your palace. What sentence do you suggest?”
The demon growled. “If left to me, her skin shall be peeled back from her body, and fire ants placed inside, and the skin sewn up again. Should the ants die before she does, then the process repeated, with new cuts made each time. Once she has expired, her body will be delivered, in several parts, to her remaining family.
Kyla’s thoughts went to her mother, and the horror at seeing her own daughter sliced into pieces and crawling with ants. Her knees shook, and she thought to plead for mercy, but Aethelwyne’s laugh interrupted.
“I see why you are so able to keep order down here! I may need some information from her, so I shall take her for now. She shall be delivered to you once I am finished.”
The demon, Lord Sventali, offered a bow of his head. “As you wish. What of the male?”
“Oh, he may still prove useful. You may stand, Marik.”
Marik rose, and though Kyla lashed out mentally, she bit her tongue. Treacherous snake. Sophrosyne must have always known his nature; why had she ever let him serve?
Aethelwyne laughed. “Focus, Kyla. We’ve got to get you back to High Haven. I have a room set out for you. It’s a bit smaller than the one you had last time, I’m afraid. Now, I expect to see you tomorrow evening for the coronation, Sventali.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
Kyla lunged for Marik’s bag. She could petrify the lot of them with Anh Bul’s head. Sventali’s scepter cracked against her arm. She gripped it and rolled onto the floor, curled in pain.
Her purse dropped, and the little marble she had found rolled out. Whatever magic it held, she hoped it could help her now. She grabbed it and felt the sensation of a vast universe rushing through her body. As she took in a deep breath, a head was thrust in front of her face. She tried to close her eyes, but her gaze locked onto Anh-Bul’s dead stare.
“Sorry,” Marik whispered as he leaned in to her ear. “I can’t risk you ever telling them about Sophrosyne.”
What strange loyalty did he still have to the goddess of night?
Kyla thought it was all over. She would not only become a statue, she would be petrified in place, curled up and cowering on the floor. Not exactly a pose she wished commemorated.
Her arm still hurt. She moved it. Not petrified at all. Was the magic from Anh-Bul’s gaze used up?
No. The marble in her hand felt warm. She could feel energy swirling from her body into the vast universe in the small piece of glass.
Large, rough hands picked her up from the floor and Kyla was assaulted by the breathy stench of brimstone.
“Just be done with her!” Yellow spittle seethed between Sventali’s jagged teeth as he held her to his face. She looked into his coal-black eyes.
He started to scream, but no sound came as his face stiffened in place. Kyla could feel the swirling energy come back out of the marble, and through her body, and into her eyes, and out at the demon. His hands that held her under the shoulders turned hard as well.
“Put the bag over her head!” Aethelwyne screamed.
Kyla put her hands to her face to try and stop the sack, but it tightened around her wrists, one of which ached terribly, and she thought must be broken. Her fingers were tight against her face as she was pulled down from the new Sventali-statue and laid on the ground. A heavy weight pressed on her neck.
She heard a muffled laugh from Aethelwyne. “I was wondering how I was going to deal with him. One problem solved, at least. Wait here. I’ll go find someone to teleport you and Kyla back to High Haven.”
Marik mumbled something. Kyla was no longer listening. She wasn’t dead, so would be thrown into prison. Questioned, tortured, likely killed.
She had a few things that might help her, but they would be taken. She had the marble in her hand, and shoved it in her mouth, and swallowed it. The ring on her finger. She would need that, too. It was more difficult, but she managed to get it down.
The most difficult was the necklace. She needed that stone. As she waited, her arm aching terribly, she twisted her wrist to snag the necklace with her thumb. She managed to inch it toward her face until it was close enough to bite. Then she tugged it until the chain snapped, and slowly drew it into her mouth with her tongue.
And down it went, though its descent was markedly longer and more painful. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt this much when it came out the other end.
***
It was pitch dark, and the deprivation of stimuli put all Saul’s focus on his aching hunger. He had never been hungry enough to contemplate eating his own leg before, but now his mind conjured a variety of recipes with which he might do so.
