“Nevertheless, we have to talk about it, and we have to figure out a way to weed them out before they do more damage,” Raphael replied. “I would do the same if the spies were from my species, rest assured.”
“Anything from the books, so far?” I asked Riza and Herakles, while my fingers kept typing on the on-screen keyboard.
Riza nodded. “Yeah, we’ve picked up on a few things about Brann. It turns out the Cerixian Fire Hermessi had a habit of showing up here and there. According to the legends, he inhabited the bodies of male Cerixians and lived among them for years on end.”
“Do we know why?” Taeral replied.
“He liked the Cerixian people. That’s the recurring opinion of different authors, according to these books,” Riza said.
“What about the Water Hermessi?” Eira asked.
Taeral’s lips stretched into a grin. “Your dad, you mean?”
That was enough to turn Eira’s cheeks a bright shade of red.
“We know,” I said. “We saw you headed toward Inalia’s location, and the water fountains reacted as you passed by. Funny enough, we wouldn’t have paid attention to that, had Trap not told us about it.”
Eira’s jaw dropped. Had it not been fastened with muscles and tendons, it would’ve tumbled to the floor. “Wait… What?”
“Trap said it himself, you didn’t think he’d notice, eventually?” I replied. “He was with you almost every day. He trained you. He taught you. Of course he saw what you could do, even when you thought you were hiding.”
It took a while for Eira to process this. “Now I feel incredibly foolish.”
“Don’t. You were much better at concealing your abilities than I ever was,” Inalia replied.
“I accepted who I am, Inalia, that’s why,” Eira said. “It’s time you do the same, or you’ll keep losing control and torching everything around you. Personally, I’m amazed that Trap didn’t talk to me about what he knew.”
“He respected your desire for privacy,” Eva said. “He’s a noble Cerixian.”
Eira smiled. “Yeah, he’s a good person. I was lucky to train under him.”
“Does it say anywhere in those books how to reach out to a Hermessi?” Raphael asked, shifting focus back to our current issues. “You know, without a fae present?”
Herakles turned one of the books around and pointed at the first passage on the second page. “Right here. This is a fae-less world, so the ancient Cerixians had to figure out another way to communicate with the natural elements that they so feverishly worshipped.”
Inalia straightened her back and sucked in a breath. She’d just remembered something. “The Hermessi children.”
“Exactly,” Herakles replied. “A child of the Hermessi could easily travel the astral planes and reach out to the elements. Obviously, their strongest bond is with the one who made them. In your case, Inalia, that’s Brann.”
“My… My father, you mean,” Inalia murmured.
“Brann, the Fire Hermessi of Cerix,” Riza said, and looked at Eira. “And your father is most likely Acquis, the Water Hermessi. I found his name; it’s frequently mentioned in these texts. Funny enough, it’s not the only one. There are much older mentions of a Reynah as the Water Hermessi, as well. But they predate Acquis.”
Eira’s brows furrowed, casting shadows over her blue eyes. “You mean there was another Hermessi before Acquis?”
Herakles nodded. “That’s what we’ve gathered so far. We’ve yet to finish digging through these materials, but it seems like Acquis replaced Reynah at some point, according to the Hermessi legends recorded by your ancestors.”
“We don’t know how or why, but hopefully the answer will be in here, somewhere,” Riza added.
“That would imply that the Hermessi are not immortal, like we’d thought,” Taeral replied. “That they can die or be destroyed. Or am I wrong?”
Silence fell over our group, as we tried to answer that question as truthfully as possible.
“I don’t think you’re wrong, but, until we get more data, I wouldn’t be able to say you’re right, either,” I said. “It’s an avenue we could keep exploring, but we all know by now that the only one who could tell us more, who could confirm or deny any of our theories, is another Hermessi.”
“And we’ve got two Hermessi daughters here who could reach out to their makers, just for that purpose,” Raphael added, eyeing Inalia and Eira with a smile.
Eira looked away for a few seconds, and then her gaze caught mine. “You said there’s a rogue Hermessi out there who’s driving these cultists and making them kill.”
“That’s what we were told, yes.”
“By another Hermessi,” Taeral reminded me.
“Yeah, so taking that with a grain of salt, since clearly they can’t all be trusted,” I replied. “But the facts are pretty consistent with this theory. No one else could power up the fire fae like a Hermessi.”
“Aya said that a rogue Hermessi was making the fire fae explode,” Eva said. “It was safe for us to assume, back then, that it was a Fire Hermessi. And we also theorized that, since this rogue had to leave his home planet in order to get to our side of the In-Between, his absence would be noticed by the creatures back home, right?”
That was, in fact, one of the highlights of a previous report I’d sent back to Calliope. Fire missing from a planet would’ve been noticed, for sure, if said planet was inhabited.
“Exactly,” I said. “If we could find the planet of origin, we could figure out who that Hermessi is.”
“But that’s insanely complicated, given the number of inhabited worlds in the In-Between,” Varga replied.
“There’s no need to look further,” Eira murmured. “I think I know who it is.”
Suddenly, all eyes were on her.
“What do you mean?” Taeral asked.
Inalia gasped. “Oh, dear… I think I know what you mean,” she said.
“Pray, tell!” Herakles snapped.
“A few weeks ago,” Inalia started, “we noticed the fires dimming across the entire domain. They didn’t die out, but they just didn’t burn as bright as before. There was constant fluctuation in all our fire-powered systems, including the lighting network in rural areas. We thought it was a weather issue, or maybe a problem with the air quality.”
“Before it could be studied further, everything came back to normal a couple of days before you arrived,” Eira continued, looking at me.
My synapses were almost incandescent, as I processed the information and reached the same conclusion as Inalia and Eira. “It was Brann. He left the planet, he came to our worlds, wreaked some havoc while Cerix went a little low on the flames… Then he returned, and everything went back to normal here.”
“That would make sense, since there haven’t been any more attacks back home since we set foot here,” Taeral said.
“So, Brann is our rogue Hermessi?” Varga asked, crossing his arms.
“Does that mean he’s responsible for all those deaths?” Inalia breathed, dread skewing her delicate features.
“Most likely, yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, Inalia.”
Eva pointed at the oil lamp close to us, flameless. “And he could be watching us through the fire, which is why we’re using Amelia’s tablet flashlight.”
Inalia shuddered. I turned the flashlight off—there was now enough daylight coming through the window for us to see one another well enough. “Okay. I’ll try to reach out to him. But one of you will have to tell me how to do that, because I have no idea,” she said.
“We’ll take a page out of our fae Vesta’s playbook,” Taeral replied. “We need to get you in an open space, away from the city bustle, first of all. From there, it’ll be a question of breathing and concentrating. I think.”
“You think?” Eira mumbled.
“It’s our best chance.” Inalia sighed. “And I know where we can go, too.”
I immediately noticed the ease in my breathing, as if a weight had ju
st been lifted from my shoulders. Once more, we had a clear direction. A task. A purpose. We weren’t just running around and spinning our wheels, looking for a way out of this debacle.
We had a possible identity for our rogue Hermessi, and we had someone with the juice needed to contact him. If Brann was the primordial being we’d been looking for, he could very well have the answers that we needed. Only one question remained now. Would he be willing to tell us anything, once we made contact?
Or would he retaliate and hurt us all, including his daughter? We didn’t have any other choice but to try. The risk was worth it, if it got us closer to ending this deeply unpleasant episode of our lives. Too many innocent creatures had died already.
Lumi
Skit told me a little bit about Cerix on the way to the high chancellor’s residence. His knowledge was enough to fill some of the gaps between the last Druid delegation’s visit and present day, as far as the planet’s social and political systems were concerned. I found the empire’s ambitions to be somewhat over the top, transforming once-independent kingdoms into domains.
Granted, the unification had come from a desire for peace from millions of Cerixians, but that didn’t mean the death of their warring nature. It certainly explained the rebel factions, including the so-called Brothers of the Shadows. In fact, it even made sense of the existence of a Hermessi cult on Cerix—with the Armed Forces and government branches so busy with unification and peace in favor of the empire, the Cerixians were spread too thin to nip a murderous cult in the bud.
“And you like it? The empire, I mean?” I asked Skit.
Up ahead, at the far end of the boulevard, was the high chancellor’s residence. It was, for all intents and purposes, a palace, but it didn’t stand out. Ostentatiousness had been abandoned, despite the size of the building. It looked practical, simple, and even elegant. Particular care had been given to the front garden, which burst in delicate shades of peach and white, as flowery bushes took center stage.
The massive black iron fence kept the undesirables out, as did the soldiers stationed all around the residence. They were armed and solemn, quietly staring ahead. The closer we got, the better I could see the way their eyes occasionally darted left and right, responding to the movements of passersby.
“I do, for the most part,” Skit replied, his tone calm and casual.
He wasn’t at all scared of me, and, I had to admit, I respected that.
“For the most part,” I repeated after him.
“Well, yes. There are certain things that don’t sit well with me, such as what happened earlier. The high chancellor’s assistant is the skeeviest of all Cerixians, and he has too much power at his disposal. I think that should be fixed, because his influence is causing rebels to fight back. He sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong. Nalyon Martell even has the audacity to tell people what they should wear and say, in certain domains. And he’s amassed too much wealth.”
“I suppose that reeks of corruption, given that he’s a public servant, right?” I asked.
He nodded. “Exactly. He’s supposed to work for us, the people. Instead, he treats us like we owe him something. Sure, his position pays well, better than most, but, still. Too many lands in his name. Too many Cerixians somehow indebted to him. And the high chancellor seems to be turning a blind eye to him, to the point where Nalyon Martell has become brazen enough to order the Armed Forces around. Next thing you know, he’ll be kicking Emperor Tulla out of his palace and declaring himself supreme leader.” Skit chuckled, though I didn’t ignore the underlying bitterness.
“Tell me about the high chancellor,” I said.
Looking ahead, I knew I was going to have to brace myself for a confrontation. I didn’t like showing up unannounced, and I certainly didn’t enjoy hurling armed guards around, but, given our hot-button issues so far, it had to be done if it got me in the same room with the high chancellor.
“He’s been in power for about fifteen years,” Skit explained. “He’s been decent, for the most part, though, like I said, he’s given Nalyon Martell too much leeway, and I don’t really know what he’s getting out of it. Heck, in some parts of the outer domains, they’re calling Nalyon the ‘substitute high chancellor.’ Surely, that can’t sit well with the guy.”
“So, pompous title, yet not that much to show for it?”
“I suppose. The emperor has the final say in everything, especially where running the domains is concerned,” Skit added. “More often than not, the emperor ends up overruling the high chancellor’s decisions.”
“And that’s… good?”
Skit nodded again. “Absolutely. The emperor has a clear and bright mind, despite his age. I think it comes with the territory of belonging to the Frey dynasty. Like his father before him, Emperor Tulla isn’t afraid to tackle his government when his people are wronged. But I’m afraid there are conspiracies against him. There’s the occasional talk of upper-echelon Cerixians looking to dethrone the Frey dynasty and appoint a new emperor. They won’t do it yet, though. Emperor Tulla has too much of the public’s support. Maybe you and the other outsiders can help consolidate his power.”
I chuckled. “Is that why you’re helping me, Skit?”
He gave me a boyish smile. “I guess.”
“All right. Let’s see what the high chancellor has to say about all this, first,” I said. “I’m sure you understand that I need to form my own opinions about what’s going on here, before I reach a decision.”
“I understand, yes. I think it’s perfectly normal, too. I’d do the same.”
“Though we both agree, Skit. Nalyon Martell is a grade-A asshat,” I replied.
His eyebrows arched upward. “What’s an ‘asshat?’”
The Shadians were obviously rubbing off on me. I didn’t mind it. Their vocabulary was rich and colorful, especially where insults were concerned. I wasn’t one to abide by the most chiseled of words, anyway. I actually enjoyed shocking those I interacted with—especially heads of state and other, equally powerful creatures. It dragged them down to a less elitist level, where they could actually be reasoned with.
“Stop right there!” one of the four guards at the front gate barked.
They pointed their weapons at Skit and me.
“Relax, guys. It’s me!” Skit replied, though his hands were up in a defensive gesture. I couldn’t be bothered.
“Skit?” the first guard replied, frowning at him before he ended up gawking at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You… You’re the intruder, aren’t you?”
“Ah. I take it you’ve received a bird message by now,” Skit said, slightly disappointed.
“We were told to be on the lookout for a hostile alien, yes,” the second guard replied.
“I’m not hostile,” I replied. “Well, not unless you intend to keep pointing those things at me,” I added, pointing at their rifles.
“You’re not allowed to set foot in the high chancellor’s residence,” the first guard said, his tone hard and firm.
My eyes rolled. “I really don’t have time for this.”
I whispered my paralyzing spell. Once the pulse exploded outward and stunned the four guards, I waved them away with the flick of one hand. They were thrown to the side, landing on their backs, unable to move. Their eyes followed me, glistening with horror, as I moved forward.
Skit was kind enough to open the gate for me.
Several other guards came down the front stairs of the palace, eager to stop me. Unsurprisingly, they wound up on the ground, just like their colleagues, stiff and terrified. I kind of felt sorry for them. Instant paralysis was a harrowing experience, to say the least. I’d been through it myself, multiple times, in my early days. My sisters had hit me with the same spell as part of my training. I was told I’d have to experience it if I wanted to inflict it upon someone else. It was meant to build and strengthen character. It sure did. I managed to retain my sympathy thanks to those first experiences as a swamp witch.
&nbs
p; There weren’t many guards left inside the high chancellor’s residence, and most of them were glued to the floor by the time I was done. I took a moment to admire the sumptuous interiors. If the palace’s façade and garden had maintained a humble but tasteful simplicity, the high chancellor had gone all out in here.
The ceilings were tall, with gold-brushed molding and intricate paintings. The walls were covered in silken paper with gold-thread embroideries of stylized floral patterns. The furniture was dark and luscious brown wood, with a hint of red in the swirling grain. The light fixtures were all white smoked glass and champagne-colored chandeliers. Fresh flowers adorned curvy, hand-painted vases, and I could smell the fine leather of lounge sofas from the giant, circular lobby. Oh, High Chancellor, way to maintain that public image. Discreet on the outside, pompous on the inside.
“I take it the high chancellor position also pays ridiculously well?” I asked rhetorically.
Skit was equally fascinated by these splendid and opulent interiors. There were two sets of semicircular steps leading to the upper level. They met at the center of the north wall, with arching, lacquered wood railings and custom-cut carpeting of the finest thread.
“I’ve never been inside before,” Skit breathed. “Only a select few of the Armed Forces’ leadership are allowed in here. The rest of us meet and talk to the high chancellor in the government buildings. This is his private home, given by the empire upon his entitlement.”
“Well, I’ve got to give credit where it’s due. Not too shabby,” I replied dryly, then focused my ears on any voices nearby that would lead me to the high chancellor.
Skit pointed to a door to our left. “The palace layout is similar to usual residential buildings,” he whispered. “Over there would be a fireplace room, big enough to hold a council. That’s what the high chancellor usually does, from what my superiors told me. He reserves the mornings for government-related discussions at his residence, then goes out or works on various pieces of legislation.”
I walked over to that door. The closer I got, the better I could hear. There were people talking, indeed. I counted at least six different voices. Skit didn’t leave my side. He seemed so vulnerable, almost afraid of being in here without permission. He wasn’t afraid of me, but he sure was wary of his government. I found that somewhat ironic, given my abilities.
A Shade of Vampire 70: A Breed of Elements Page 8
