She looked hesitantly at him.
Vallich pointed at his outstretched hand with his knife. “Go on then!”
She jumped and then shoved her hand in his.
“Thank you,” he said, “I’m going to cut you now. It will hurt. Let it hurt. Scream as loud as you can. That is how you live.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
The instant she did, Vallich swiftly slashed the palm of her hand.
Abi’s ear-splitting scream ripped through the cell.
“Abi! Abi!” the Vyvent’s voice bellowed from down the hall. “Don’t hurt her! Please!”
Vallich smirked as the girl in front of him wept. This was the Vyvent’s true torture. They weren’t so different from humans in that regard.
A few more seconds passed, and then Vallich shot up from his chair, rushing over to Abi and covering her mouth with his hand. As her screams were quieted, the Vyvent in the cell next-door became more frantic.
Vallich lifted the kicking girl out of her chair and into the hall, shoving her into the arms of the nearest guard. She was strong for one so young, her Vyvent muscles much denser. But Vallich was a Wielder, the heir to a godly Kingdom, he had his own otherworldly strength.
More screams echoed down the hall. “What have you done, you sick monster?”
“Keep her mouth shut and take her aboveground to the palace,” Vallich said. “See to it that she is tended to. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my liege,” the Eleventh said, doing his best to bow with Abi kicking in his arms.
Vallich wiped his hand on his pants to rid it of the child’s drool and walked back towards the cell with the wailing Vyvent. Though the girl was one of the creatures, her father was the one guilty of espionage, not her. The Nation of a Dozen Isles, home of the Vyvents, would not take well to the death of one of their little ones, especially since there were so few.
Vallich paused in front of the metal door and looked back towards Abi’s cell.
“My liege,” a soldier from the other stretch of the hallway called out, his arm outstretched. “A letter?”
“Now?”
“It is marked urgent, yet bears no insignia.”
Vallich snatched the letter out of the guard’s hand and ripped it open, the wax seal crumbling between his fingers.
He read it over once. And again.
Vallich’s heart pounded in his chest as his eyes scoured the parchment for the third time.
“Leave,” Vallich said under his breath. “I said, all of you—go!”
Clanging of metal rang through the halls to the tune of the Vyvent’s cries. Vallich burst through the heavily sealed door.
“Get out, Erikah,” Vallich yelled.
“What’s going on?”
“I said, get!”
Erikah grumbled as she let her wield down and the white faded from her eyes. Her vines hung loosely as she slammed the door behind her.
Vallich barely allowed the man’s body to hit the ground before hoisting him back up in a wield of his own, giving him no time to take control of the situation. A diamond bed rose from underneath the Vyvent and fastened him down with thick diamond straps around his wrists, ankles, and waist.
Vallich paced the room, reading the note over and over. Every time he read it things became clearer, his mind less clouded. As if a coil had been wrapped tightly around his brain and it was ever so slightly loosening with every read.
Finally, Vallich turned to the Vyvent. “I know why you are here,” said Vallich, leaning inches from the man’s face. “And you are going to tell me everything.”
Chapter 8
House of Historians, 5th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Kari sat on one of her three windowsills with her knees pulled into her chest. Her waist-length white hair flowed in the gentle sea breeze, whipping against her bronze skin. The city of Azul was sprawled out before her. Her room in the top of the tower was small. The House of Historians had offered her a much larger one when she had been appointed a prodigy of the House, but she’d opted for this one instead. The air was where she was comfortable, and there was plenty of it up here.
From her perch, she could gaze upon the god-city and its palace on the other side of the elegant bridge that crossed the small canal. Or, if she preferred the north-facing view, she could observe the river and the distant Croplands to see how the year’s yield was doing. Or, to ponder life’s toughest thoughts, she could gaze out the third window onto the Southern Sea.
Whichever view she chose didn’t matter to her. She was in the place she loved the most, the place she yearned to know more about. The sky.
Hurried whispers filled Kari’s head. They sang in a tune so sad and sweet that her head lulled along with it. Her hand was steady on her Godstone.
She had been connected to her Godstone for so long, she could not remember the last time she had been truly alone. She liked it that way, though. Mímrvor was a part of her after all.
Kari stroked Mímrvor softly as he dangled from her neck. His tune was restless, and there was a deep-rooted anguish emanating from him. Kari could feel it.
Though his song was beautiful, it was harsh and hurried. It made her as uneasy as he was.
“Shh, my love,” Kari said, softly petting her clear stone with a delicate hand as she looked up at the sky that had given birth to her Mímrvor. “Do not fret.”
Mímrvor’s elegant noise settled down in her head, but Kari could still feel his restless energy flowing through her. She pulled Mímrvor from his place on her neck and cupped him in her hands. The sunlight pouring in from the open window made the tiny Godstone glisten and shimmer, making him even more beautiful. Kari could feel Mímrvor warming in the light of the sun, the warmth a familiar comfort on the palm of her hand.
Mímrvor had never been this restless before. Ever since he started talking to her—if that’s what you could call it—it had been merely whispers. Stories of the past and inklings of the future. Now, however, something was seriously upsetting him. Kari still didn’t fully understand the strange language of the Godstones echoing in her head, but the more she spent time with Mímrvor, the more she understood his feelings.
He spoke to her in unearthly tunes. Sounds so beautiful they could not be of this world; sounds so strange Kari could only describe them as emotions translated into music. When Mímrvor spoke to her, it was as if the skies themselves were ringing in her mind—a beautiful melody that was only hers to hear. She could feel exactly what he was feeling.
Kari smiled at her little rock. She thought-back fondly to the day she happened upon him. She could remember the exact feeling of the sea breeze on her face when Mímrvor washed up on the shores of Azul. An air stone dropped into the ocean; his first moments on this earth must have swept him up into the winds and then dropped him into the sea. It must’ve been quite traumatic for him.
He could have been lost to the sea, but he found her instead.
She had been eight at the time, but he was ancient. She was fourteen when he started singing to her in a way she could understand. Since that day, she never broke her connection with him for fear she would lose his beautiful melody. Her eyes were always white, her Godstone always ready to wield, which put people on edge, but for Kari it was normal. So normal she could barely recall the true colour of her own eyes.
Over the past eleven years, since that day on the beach, they had become the best of friends.
Kari didn’t understand why she was the only one who could speak to the Godstones in such a way. There were very few other Wielders she knew who could hear the music, and if they could, to them it was just nonsensical noise. They could never make anything of it.
Kari planted her feet on the stone floor of her chambers. She walked to the sea-facing window and sat on the large stone windowsill with Mímrvor still cupped in her hands. She stared out over the Southern Sea as the sun setting over the western horizon caused the gentle waves to sparkle and glisten.
A hurried
knock on the door broke her gaze. Mímrvor’s song grew louder.
Before Kari could get up, the wooden door opened, and a tall man in black strode in.
“Vallich!” Kari said in a melodic tone, something she had picked up from Mímrvor. Her bare feet dangled from her seat on the windowsill. “What brings you here at this early hour?”
His chiselled cheeks were more prominent in the morning light. He looked as though he hadn’t slept, dark circles pooling under his striking grey eyes. And he reeked of booze.
“I am uncertain.”
“What terrible thing have you done now?” Kari teased, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps it was because, even though their visits had become less frequent over the years, Kari could count on Vallich coming to her for counsel. Vallich truly did do horrific things after all. Though always at the will of the God-King. And if they were done at King Apollyon’s orders, at the orders of a God, were they truly terrible?
“I don’t quite know what you are implying, dear friend,” Vallich said. The corner of his lip turned up into a smirk, and Kari giggled. This was the Vallich she knew.
He stumbled over to the cabinet, his open black tunic catching in the breeze, exposing the side of his toned stomach. He seemed bigger than before, more muscular, Kari noted. He must have been training hard. Vallich rummaged through the cabinet for a moment then pulled out one of Kari’s finest wines. A gift from the High Historian.
“That is nearly priceless, you know?”
“Fitting for the heir to the throne,” he said. Kari rolled her eyes and Vallich proceeded to uncork the ornate bottle with his teeth, spitting the cork across the room. He fell back onto her bed while taking a long gulp of wine.
“If it is pleasurable comforts you are looking for, I suggest you search elsewhere.”
Vallich craned his neck, his lips stained a deep purple. “What if what I want is right here?”
Blood rushed to Kari’s cheeks. They had always been a pair to flirt, but whenever Vallich was this brazen with her, Kari couldn’t help but enjoy it. And there was something different in his eyes this morning: an angry sort of glare, or perhaps it was hunger. A knot coiled in Kari’s stomach, and Mímrvor began humming a dangerously seductive tune.
One of the gifts Mímrvor’s song had bestowed upon her was a connection with other Godstones. As if all the stones could speak to each other in some cosmic way. The closer she and Mímrvor were to another Godstone, the easier it was to hear them. Their songs were beautiful and intertwined with how their Wielders were feeling. And right now, Mímrvor was singing Vallich’s enticing song.
“Come here,” Vallich said. He was on his elbows, wine in one hand, motioning her forward with the other. His dark hair was messy.
“You are dirtying my sheets with your sweaty old clothes and unwashed hair,” Kari said. She held herself to the windowsill.
“Do not worry yourself, Kari.” He took another swig of wine. “I intend on making them much dirtier.”
Mímrvor’s song was poison in Kari’s head. It made her dizzy with Vallich’s wanting and wine.
“I’ll join you,” she said, unwittingly licking her lips, “but nothing will happen between us today.”
“I am but a perfect gentleman and will make no move towards you.” Vallich threw his free hand up into the air and smiled. “I swear it.”
He was beautiful lying there, and Kari had to admit to herself that she had occasionally wondered what having him would be like. Rumours did get around the palace after all. It also didn’t hurt that he was the heir to the throne. A God’s heir. But something was off this morning. She could sense it when he had first walked into her room. And even though the song that echoed through her mind was deeply intoxicating, it was also quite disturbed.
She lay down next to him so the tops of their heads were close, but their bodies were apart. He made no move to come closer and Kari smiled to herself. Vallich was vicious, but honourable—always true to his oaths. The problem was, most of the time, he lied about nearly everything else.
“You never truly answered my question,” she said, staring up into the turret’s ceiling. “What brings you here at this early hour?”
A glugging sound filled the silence between them. “I have discovered something.”
“And that is?”
Another glug.
“The reason we went to war with Burrath.”
Kari was confused. The reason they had gone to war was common knowledge.
“Because they were barbaric, and the God-King took pity on them. We saved them.”
“No.” The sheets rustled as he shook his head.
Kari got on her elbows and looked down at his angular face. “Yes, because he wanted to bring them into our fold, to help them prosper as we do.”
Vallich brought a hand to Kari’s cheek without touching it. His promise. When she realized he would not move any closer, she leaned into it, making contact with him first. He had made a vow after all.
His hand was warm on her face. “If I told you otherwise, would you believe me?”
Kari paused for a moment, and Mímrvor sang softly. “To believe you would be to forsake the God-King. Are you saying he is a liar?”
Vallich ran his thumb back and forth over Kari’s cheek. It was slow and hypnotic, and his grey eyes seemed to pierce into hers. “I am.”
“You must be ill of the mind,” Kari said, sitting up.
“Perhaps.” Vallich got on his elbow and lay sideways, facing her. “Though I feel I have not been this clearheaded my entire life.”
“What you speak is treasonous.”
“I’ve made no move against the King.”
“Promise me you won’t,” Kari said desperately.
Vallich sat up, their knees nearly brushing. He held his hands out, and she instinctively placed her own in them. He squeezed tightly. “Leave here with me,” he whispered. “There are few things in this place I care about, but you are one of them. My only ally. My only friend.”
Kari pressed her forehead to Vallich’s. What could possibly be burdening him so? A moment ago, he stumbled in to her tower a confused wreck, then he wanted to sleep with her, now he was threatening to abdicate as heir.
“You are ill.”
“I am not.”
Kari could feel his head shake lightly, her head shaking along with each motion.
“Then vow me you will make no move against the God-King, and I will not speak of this day to anyone,” she said. His face was dangerously close and his song deeply sad.
He sighed, his disappointment written across his face. “Don’t fret, Kari. I have no plans to make a move against Apollyon. Not alone at least. I am no fool.”
Kari closed her eyes, relieved. Vallich’s words may be toxic, but he was smart. Hopefully that was enough. Enough time for him to regain his sanity.
Vallich stood, breaking their connection and leaving a cold mark on Kari’s face. “You would be wise to question whom you worship and serve.”
Kari looked at him as he slicked his dark hair back from his face with a swipe of his hand. The shadows on his sullen face looked sinister in the morning glow.
“You would be wise to question your God.”
Chapter 9
Azul, 5th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.
Vallich strode past his four-poster bed towards the window of his dimly lit chamber. Only a single candle flickered on his desk in the far corner of the gigantic room, and the light seemed to be absorbed into the stone walls. He was thankful for the darkness as his head thudded from his drinking the entire night before.
He paused and chuckled, and his drinking earlier that same day.
He stared out at the white building of the court with its glistening diamond roof. Apollyon had the United Azanthean Army collect any Northerners who were non-conforming to the new regime after their loss in the Battle of Burrath and bring to Azul to build. Vallich had led the collection efforts.
The night was clea
r and the air crisp, which was odd for the season. He looked out beyond the building to the mountains. A few days ago, on the bright moon, he had witnessed a massive storm in the mountains to the west. And with that storm came a rare but familiar sensation, a feeling best described as a combination of excitement, power, and overwhelming anxiety. A feeling one Wielder—his precious Kari—would probably describe as music. It had been the amazing sensation that accompanies a new Godstone falling.
Vallich methodically wrapped himself in his cloak—covering his armoured body—and threw his pack on his back. It was time to leave the capital. Azul had been his home his entire life, since he had been brought to the city as a baby. He had been a puppet to the so-called God-King and his country, and now, with his newfound clarity, he wanted more. He wanted true power and freedom. He wanted to rule. But even more so, he wanted Apollyon dead.
And to be truly powerful, he needed to be unleashed.
He looked out the window at the booming city. Even in the darkness of night, the people were bustling. The markets would be open until the wee hours of the morning with merchants from all over the country coming to sell their goods, refusing to go home empty handed. The drunks would be out too, stumbling and fighting. Vallich scoffed, throwing his dark hair back; the pettiness of the common folk left a terrible taste in his mouth. He was better than them.
If only they knew that he was watching them, perhaps they would behave differently. Vallich loved that his name alone could strike fear into the hearts of the people. Even now, as one of Apollyon’s pawns, he was a legend. Vallich, Commander of the Elevenths and Conqueror of the North. It had a nice ring to it, but still could not compare to the title of God-King.
Vallich reached over to the bedside table and picked up a small pouch, jostling it in his hand. The worn leather was smooth on his rough hands. Apollyon’s reign had lasted far too long—over three hundred years too long, to be exact. The God-King’s body had been preserved by the cosmic energy of the Godstones, drawing upon the energies of the elements to remain in its strongest form indefinitely. As the God-King had no children, Apollyon had begun hosting the Ascension Trials to find his heir and name the Commander of the Elevenths. At the last trials, Vallich, the young contender born in the minds of Míastrad, had won the honours.
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