by Rai Aren
“We must be careful, your Majesty, the wood still smolders. It is likely quite hot and unstable in places.”
The King nodded, but proceeded forth. He had to bring back an answer to his daughter. He could not leave her unaware of the fate of her loved ones, an unanswered question that would haunt her. Not the way he had been left for so many years.
As the King and his Commander walked amongst the ruins of the small home, they overturned pieces of wood that had fallen here and there, looking for any trace of the people who lived there. Traeus had stooped down to pick up a small object. It was a charred piece of wood with some strings attached to it. Very little of the wood survived, but Traeus recognized the type of string still tied to it. It had been a musical instrument, a deget. He remembered Anjia had told him that Uta had played for the family often in the evenings as they sat around the fire. He looked off where the stone hearth still stood, and imagined them sitting there night after night, listening to the soft music.
He looked away. It was a painful thought in so many ways. As he glanced back over his shoulder, he spotted something. He got up and went closer. He heart fell. It was a hand, blackened, skeletal, sticking out from under a pile of rubble.
“Commander!” he called out. “Over here!”
Maraeven rushed over to where his King stood.
“Help me lift this,” Traeus ordered. The two men lifted the large piece of what was once a thatched roof. It revealed two forms, one on top of the other. Both were burned and blackened beyond recognition.
“Your Majesty, I am so sorry…” the Commander started to say.
The King put his hand up, fighting back tears. “We must help the others. There is nothing more we can do here.”
“Commander! Your Majesty!” one of the guards yelled out. “Come here, quickly!”
Maraeven and the King rushed over to the guard who was standing in front of a grove of trees at the far edge of the village. Behind the trees, several feet away, was a shed. It was the only building still left standing.
“They must not have found this building,” the King remarked.
“With all due respect your Highness, I believe that they did,” the guard answered. “It seems to have been left on purpose. Come,” he motioned to them, “you will see what I mean.”
Inside the small shed were three men, bound and gagged. They were shaking and sobbing. Their eyes went wide with fear when they saw the King. They tried to scream as they shook their heads vigorously.
“Untie them at once,” the King ordered, dismayed.
His guards untied their hands, and removed the gags from their mouths.
The men shrank into a corner, cowering and trembling. They held their wrists, which were raw and red from their struggle.
Traeus held his hands out in a gesture of peace. “Please understand we are not here to hurt you. Who has done this to you? What has happened here?”
The men did not answer. They were terrified.
“Please, you must tell us,” the King said gently. “We are here to help you. Will you allow us to do that? Who did this unspeakable thing?”
One of the men looked up at him, still wild-eyed with fear, his cheeks stained with tears. “You did.”
Traeus was taken aback, confused. “I did no such thing…what are you saying?”
“The men who did this…they were Royal guards. Sent by you,” he replied, pointing a finger, his hand trembling.
“What?” he asked.
The man licked his dry, cracked, and bloodied lips. “The Royal guards who came here…they said, ‘On the order of the King, this village will be destroyed.’ They said it was because you hated the people who kept the Princess from you. They said we all must be punished for our part in it. Just as Assan was.” He coughed.
“Get them some water,” the Commander ordered.
The guard nodded and left.
Traeus felt his knees buckle. He was being framed, and they had used the perfect excuse to do it. He was speechless. He put a hand to his mouth.
“It was a lie,” Maraeven replied, seeing his King badly shaken by the news. “The Royal Family was not involved, I assure you.”
“But they wore uniforms just like the ones you have on,” the man said, shaking. “They had the Royal crest on them. They said you would deny it to our faces, but not to believe you.”
The King’s mind raced at what this could mean. Someone had gone to great lengths to impersonate his Royal soldiers. He looked at Commander Maraeven, who was thinking the same thing.
“Zhek,” the Commander whispered.
Finally, one of the other survivors gathered the courage to speak, “We were left as witnesses and were told to pass on a message to everyone we meet.”
“What message?” Commander Maraeven asked.
He looked at the King, then shifted his gaze down as he spoke, “That these deaths would serve as a warning to anyone who dared to cross the King again.”
The King was utterly sickened at what had been done. His enemies were far more lethal this time around. Again, Traeus was consumed with horror and grief over the work of a Draxen. He knew it would never end until Zhek was dead. He vowed to himself to put an end to Zhek once and for all.
Chapter 46
Sorrow
AFTER doing their best to assure the three survivors that what they were told was a terrible lie, the King and Commander saw that they received food and medical attention. Traeus would ensure that they were well taken care of for the rest of their lives because of the horrific trauma they had endured.
Once they were satisfied the men were resting as comfortably as could be expected for now, the King and Commander Maraeven completed the survey of the decimated village. The Royal soldiers who were assigned to bury the bodies, carried out their duties in silence out of respect for the dead. Graves were crudely marked for the time being.
All present were keenly aware of the sense of terror that permeated the air. The now silent screams of those brutally slain resonated still in the souls of the living. The residual energy of the unprovoked attack on the innocent tainted the very essence of the place. The day had taken a toll on the living as well. The faces of the Royal contingent were drawn, ashen, bearing the effects of seeing a horror that they had been ill-prepared for. This day would haunt them the rest of their lives.
After many hours, the Royal group prepared to leave and return to the main city. They would need to bring more help back to properly mark the graves, recover what they could and to remove and clean up the remaining parts of the village that could not be salvaged.
The journey back was hushed and somber. The survivors from Derepet rode in the caravan under the watchful eyes of the healers. The King observed them from a distance. Whenever they would notice him looking at them, they would quickly hide their faces. He sensed that on top of their trauma, they remained filled with doubt and confusion, in spite of everything he had said. He hoped and prayed that they would believe him, that their trust could be restored, but he knew the road ahead would be long and difficult…for all of them. He thought of his daughter. He could not bear what he would have to do next.
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Back in the Palace, Anjia waited anxiously for her father to return. Mindara and Tramen had tried to comfort her, tried to take her mind off the news of the village, but their efforts felt hollow to her, not in their sincerity, but because Anjia knew deep down this would not have a happy outcome. She decided to wait alone in the sunroom at the front of the Palace. It had a view of the gates to the Palace. She refused the tea, bread and fruit Mindara had brought to her. She could not eat, she felt ill. She did not want to speak to anyone. It was as if a light within her was flickering, threatening to go out. She held on tightly to the small wool lion Uta and Ehrim had brought her.
After disembarking th
e river craft, and sending the survivors off for further aid, the King and some of the soldiers headed back to the Palace.
Anjia watched and waited. Finally they came into view. Suddenly she felt her pendant grow warmer, then cold. She knew instantly that all hope was lost. She gripped the tiny lion, tears falling down her cheek. She went to the front entrance of the Palace to meet her father.
Traeus saw his daughter standing there. Her long black hair blew in the soft breeze. She held her little lion to her chest. She looked so small, so forlorn. Her family would gather to her, but Traeus understood this pain would be hers alone and she would be isolated in its dark depths. He wished he could suffer the entirety of this heartache and loss for her.
As the King rode nearer, Anjia began to feel shaky, unsteady. Tramen had been watching his sister and came to her side, placing an arm around her. She now welcomed the support. Mindara too, had been waiting for her husband’s arrival. She walked up behind Anjia and Tramen and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
Traeus dismounted. The rest of the Royal guards stood at attention. The King walked up to his family. He kept his eyes on Anjia, trying to be strong. As he reached the bottom step, she looked down at him, her eyes filled with tears. He walked up slowly and stopped on a stair just below where they stood.
“Anjia,” he said, taking her hand.
“They are gone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Traeus bowed his head and nodded ever so slightly. He looked back up at her. “I am so sorry. There was almost nothing left of the village. We went to their home, but…” He could not tell her of what he had found. He did not have to.
Anjia wept, her knees buckling. An evil was at hand, the likes of which the Kierani had never known. There were no boundaries any longer.
Chapter 47
Investigation
THE question of the uniforms worn by those who attacked Derepet was the primary focus of the King’s investigation. Either they were copied or they were stolen. A quick inventory revealed the latter. The King was further distressed that his enemies were once again so close. Under his own roof.
Everyone who worked in the Royal Palace was brought in for questioning by Commander Maraeven. After extensive interviews and the crosschecking of staff’s whereabouts, two anomalies surfaced.
The Commander went immediately to seek out the King. He found him alone in his office. “Your Majesty, I have completed the interviews. I believe I may have identified two servants whose movements are suspicious.”
The King stood. He had been longing for some news about their investigation. “Who are they?”
“They are husband and wife. Their names are Rekar and Shera. They live in the village of Tessea. Rekar is a gardener and Shera is a member of the kitchen staff.”
“They came to work at the new Palace after the destruction,” Traeus recalled.
The Commander nodded. “Yes, and they travel quite a distance each day to work here,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Surely that is not the only evidence pointing to them?” the King asked. He was hoping for something decisive that they could act on.
“No, there is more,” Maraeven said, walking closer to the King, his gaze direct, serious. “During questioning, I asked everyone if they had seen anything out of the ordinary – activities, people being were their duties did not warrant, unusual comings or goings. Three staff members indicated they had seen both Rekar and Shera re-entering the Palace from the south doors two days before Derepet was attacked.”
The King immediately recognized the significance. “They could have been coming from the store rooms,” he said.
“Exactly my thought,” he nodded.
“But they were not seen carrying anything?” the King asked.
“No, but they could have been scouting things out, preparing for the theft,” Maraeven answered, crossing his arms.
“The store room was missing twenty-one uniforms,” Traeus said, placing a hand on his desk.
“Yes, we think they were taken the night before the attack,” the Commander said.
“They moved quickly to strike before anything missing was noticed.”
“Precisely,” Maraeven said. “Our investigation into the Palace fire led to their names as well, though we had no solid proof of their involvement. I would say now we do.”
“Agreed.” Traeus paced the room, “This is unbelievable. Once again people within the Palace betray us. First Zazmaria, now our own workers.”
“Your Majesty, if they are responsible, they would have had designs on betraying you before they ever came here. They just took the opportunity that presented itself after so many people were killed in the destruction. I believe this was planned long ago.”
“They took advantage of our need and vulnerability,” Traeus said, the bitterness evident in his voice. “Find them. Arrest them at once.”
Chapter 48
Threats, Present-day Egypt
THE four friends, having met back up at the vendor’s shop with the yellow awning, walked by a row of merchants. One of them had a TV playing. Mitch kept a careful grip on the strap of the heavy duffel bag, still slung over his shoulder. A news broadcast came on. On the TV, the footage showed a local neighborhood completely surrounded and cordoned off by the police. It was Khamir’s neighborhood.
“Holy crap,” Mitch said, “keep walking guys. Keep your heads down.”
“I was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Bob hit his head, as they hurried on.
“Don’t be so tough on yourself, Bob,” Alex said, putting a comforting arm around him.
“I should have known better,” he said. “Cops have been tracking cellphone calls to catch criminals for years. I’m a tech geek. I should have known they might use it for that.”
“Bob, you couldn’t have known that Max would have ties with the police,” Mitch said.
“Well…actually,” Jack started to say.
“What?” Alex asked.
“After the airport incidents and the excavation permits at the Sphinx he got his hands on, it’s really not much of a stretch to think he has his tentacles into the local police as well.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Bob said, giving him a dirty look. “I feel much better now.”
“I’m not saying that’s all on you, just that in hindsight, it’s maybe not quite as surprising as one would think.”
Bob was really upset. “And now, we’ve lost a place to stay, along with our transportation...” He rubbed his hands over his beardless face.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bob,” Alex said. “This situation is completely out of control. You couldn’t possibly have done anything different. They have Dr. Khadesh and Khamir remember? What choice did we have, but to wait for Maximilian’s call as instructed?”
“She’s right, buddy,” Mitch said.
They walked on through the noisy, crowded market, Mitch and Bob in front, Jack and Alex following behind. It was another scorching hot day.
Mitch shifted the duffel bag onto his other shoulder.
“Here, let me take that for awhile,” Bob offered, reaching out for the strap.
“Thanks, man, it’s freakin’ heavy.”
“Got it,” Bob said, as he slung it across his wide back.
