Origins

by A D Starrling

  He stood unmoving, his gaze switching from his uncle to Mila.

  Aäron cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

  The boy blinked. ‘Well what?’

  ‘Are you leaving or not?’ said Aäron, a trace of exasperation underscoring his voice.

  ‘I will, but first, I want to hear what you have to say to the Red Queen.’

  Aäron ran a hand through his hair, a distracted look darting across his face. ‘I am afraid it is not a matter for your ears.’

  ‘Oh.’ The boy looked disappointed. His expression cleared after a moment. ‘Is this like those times father and mother shut me out of their bedchamber, when they were busy making a baby sister for me?’

  Leaden silence followed his words. Mila arched an eyebrow at Aäron.

  He sighed. ‘Remind me to have a word with your father when I see him next. Now go, before the other half of the palace loses their hearing.’

  ‘As you wish, then.’ The boy turned and gave Mila a gracious nod. ‘I bid you farewell, Princess.’

  She dipped her chin. ‘Prince.’

  They watched him disappear up the passage.

  ‘He will make a fine man, one day,’ murmured Mila.

  ‘That he will,’ said Aäron lightly. ‘And you are being surprisingly civil, considering the situation.’

  She rose and approached the metal bars separating them. ‘Oh, do not mistake my courteous demeanor for surrender, my prince. The only thing stopping me from ripping this door off its hinges and killing you right now is vested interest. I would very much like to know the strength of your army and your plans for defeating the Immortals.’

  Aäron sighed, dropped the flaming torch inside a metal basket next to him, and leaned against the opposite wall. ‘You are angry.’

  Mila narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Would you not be, if you were in my place? You asked me to trust you and dragged me halfway across the Empire, only for your father to put me in chains and throw me in a dungeon like a common thief.’

  ‘I do not recall carrying you bound hand and foot for all those leagues, Princess,’ Aäron drawled. ‘You came with me of your own free will. As for my father, he did not actually put you in chains. And no one in their right mind would ever confuse you for a common thief.’

  ‘It is the same thing,’ snapped Mila.

  Events from the past day played out in her mind once more, rousing her irritation to new heights.

  Dusk had been falling across the secret valley when they left the hostile camp outside Parsah and made their way across the bridge. Aäron’s brother Megash and a group of some twenty soldiers had ridden with them, part escort, part sentry. As word spread of her and Aäron’s arrival, people had gathered on the narrow, serpentine streets that wound through the metropolis and watched the procession make its way to the fortress at the top, their murmurs and stares following them all the way to a set of imposing metal gates standing in a tall, defensive wall. Beyond those stood a shallow forecourt overshadowed by a towering palace complex that rose several hundred feet tall, its distant roofs capped by turrets lost in wispy clouds.

  Mila had had little time to admire the beautiful white stone and gleaming spires before them. A man with a shock of white hair extending to his shoulders had stormed out of the palace entrance and stopped at the top of a flight of narrow steps. On his head was a golden crown and in his right hand a bident, a two-pronged spear used as a farming pitchfork to break rock and hardened earth. The implement looked old, the wooden handle bleached with age. The man seemed to be using it as a walking staff.

  Anger had filled his face as he stared down at them and he pointed the bident at Mila. ‘Arrest her.’

  Buros snorted agitatedly when soldiers surrounded them. Mila tightened her hold on the stallion’s reins and murmured a soothing command.

  She observed the white-haired man, who could only be Aäron’s father, beyond a ring of spears. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  A look of contempt had flashed across the King’s face. ‘Of course I do.’ He frowned at the man beside her. ‘What were you thinking, to bring this creature here?’ His eyes narrowed, his gaze swinging between them. ‘Did you perhaps fall under her spell while you were on your mission?’

  Aäron’s face hardened at his words. ‘Father, do not do this. The princess and I request a private audience with you. There is much we need to talk about, things that have happened in the past few days that will have implications for our plans.’

  Tense silence had fallen across the courtyard as everyone waited with bated breath. It was broken by Buros huffing and stamping his hooves.

  Mila patted the stallion’s neck, her eyes focused on the furious man above them. ‘You would do well to listen to your son, king of Parsah.’

  The king scowled. ‘I do not take orders from my enemies.’

  His gaze switched to Aäron and he studied his son for a moment.

  ‘I will grant you that audience,’ he said gruffly. ‘After all, I can do no less for the general of our army.’

  Surprise had flared through Mila. She glanced at Aäron’s stony profile.

  ‘But I will not allow the Red Queen into my council chamber,’ the king continued. ‘Not until you give me a very good reason to do so.’

  Aäron hesitated before twisting on his saddle to look at Mila. His face softened. ‘Will you grant me some more of your time, Princess?’

  Mila had ignored the shocked murmurs rising around them and met his gaze with a neutral stare. Behind her mask of indifference, anger and disappointment clashed with the usual coolheadedness that had won her many a battle. That Aäron had deceived her to such an extent irked and troubled her in equal measure. She was usually good at reading people. Yet, even then, as she stared into his eyes, she could not fathom his true thoughts.

  ‘There is a time for war and a time for truce,’ she said coldly. ‘This is the last chance I will give you, prince of Parsah. You have fooled me long enough.’

  A strange look had flashed across his face for an instant. As she dismounted and allowed herself to be led inside the palace, Mila had wondered what it was. She was still wondering, a quarter day later.

  ‘One thing I am most curious about,’ she said presently, observing him through the prison bars. ‘What of the Parsah outside these mountains? Who governs it and sends tithes to the capital on behalf of the city?’

  Aäron smiled. ‘A cousin of my father. They look remarkably alike.’

  Mila digested this before narrowing her eyes. ‘So, what was the outcome of your audience with the king?’

  Aäron rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It took some time to convince him that recent events will ultimately play out to our advantage. Megash came around much faster, as I expected.’ His expression turned uncomfortable. ‘My father will speak with you in the council chamber.’

  Mila’s frown deepened. ‘I sense a precondition coming.’

  Aäron hesitated. ‘If you win a contest.’

  ‘What contest?’

  Aäron sighed. ‘I do not know the exact details but I suspect it will be a battle with some of our best fighters.’

  She stared at him incredulously. ‘Really? Your father has the chance to have me as an ally and he would rather risk losing my favor and the lives of some of his men in order to satisfy a whim than grant me an audience?’

  Aäron looked discomfited.

  Mila sighed. ‘Since you are the general of the army, I take it you or your brother would be among the chosen fighters.’

  Aäron shook his head. ‘He did not ask either of us, which is strange.’

  ‘You sound bitterly disappointed.’

  He smiled at her acerbic tone. ‘I have no wish to cross swords with you, Princess, and neither does my brother.’ He paused, his face sobering. ‘Not at the moment, anyway.’

  Mila registered the unspoken threat in his words. ‘And if I say no to this contest?’

  Aäron’s expression grew shuttered. ‘Then I am afraid my father will never let y
ou leave this place.’

  Mila stared. No prison would ever hold her, not while she had breath left in her body. She could fight her way out of the hidden Parsah. Deep down inside, she sensed Aäron knew this, which explained his warning. He would protect his city if she attacked.

  They gazed at each other in the silence that followed, he waiting for her answer, she trying to decide on the most strategic course of action.

  ‘When and where is this contest to take place?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The roar of the crowd was a solid wall of noise. It bounced against the stone walls and echoed into the distant sliver of pale blue sky high above.

  So much for a battle ground with some dozen spectators, Mila thought.

  They came for her at dawn, as Aäron had warned they would the previous night. But instead of being taken to the training ground inside the palace complex, where he had told her the contest would most likely be held, she was led outside the fortress and into the city, to a large arena overlooking the valley.

  Seating galleries rose in tiers around her, above the twenty-foot-high enclosure that made up the perimeter of the fighting ground. They were packed with so many bodies Mila wondered whether the entire population of Parsah had come to witness the match. Then she heard the chants rising beyond the arena. There were more people outside.

  She stood in the middle of the pit, bare-handed but for the battle clothes she had been wearing when she left Issin on that fateful night; they had been returned to her that morning, clean and stench free. Her gaze spanned the sea of faces before settling on the figures under the heavily-guarded canopy on a terrace at the head of the arena. She studied King Gishur and his entourage calmly.

  Despite the look of irritation darkening his face, Aäron flashed her an encouraging smile. Next to Megash was a beautiful woman with long, brown hair braided into a plait. From her clothes and bearing, Mila deduced her to be the second prince’s wife. She observed Mila with an inscrutable expression before leaning sideways and speaking to the boy beside her. Gilgamesh listened attentively to his mother, head half-cocked. He blinked when he met Mila’s gaze and gave her a small wave. Surprise darted across his mother’s face. She straightened and stared at Mila thoughtfully.

  Aäron’s father rose to his feet and approached the edge of the terrace. The din of the crowd abated as the citizens of Parsah looked to their king.

  His voice boomed across the arena. ‘To all of you gathered here today, I say welcome.’

  His words were met with raucous applause and a vigorous stamping of feet.

  He raised a hand until silence fell once more. ‘You have all heard by now of the guest Prince Aäron brought with him upon his return to the city the past day. I, more than most, was surprised by the identity of the person who traveled with him from the heart of the Empire.’ King Gishur glanced at his son. ‘Many of you here have wondered at the sudden disappearance of the prince over a year ago. Only a handful among us knew where he had gone.’ He paused and drew himself to his full height. ‘For the past eighteen months, your prince and general has lived a double life inside the stronghold of our enemy, on a secret mission to gather the crucial information and supporters we will need for the future war against the Immortal tyrants who rule us.’

  Shocked murmurs broke out among the gathered masses until a low rumble rose above the pit. For the first time that morning, Mila felt her pulse jump. She observed Aäron’s contrite expression with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Your general has seen and heard much while he was among our enemies and he has created further alliances with human cities to the north and west of the Empire. The connections he has made have already proven fruitful, with the arrival of more men and women willing to join our ranks in the past months. But, above all, what he has told me of the events of the last few months and days has given me hope that we can win the upcoming war and crush the army of the Immortals.’ The king’s expression grew cool as he gazed at Mila. ‘For this to happen, he tells me that I should put my trust in the woman you see before you. That we should all put our trust in her. This, the strongest warrior among the Immortals. The one we all know as the Red Queen.’

  Boos and angry shouts came from the crowd. Someone cast a stone into the pit. It landed a few feet from where Mila stood. The next one arced into the sky and sailed toward her head.

  She caught it in mid-air, her movement so fast it brought gasps from all around. A hush fell upon the arena. The sound of the stone being crushed was unnaturally loud in the lull that followed.

  Mila sifted the remains through her clenched fist, the fragments falling to the ground in a faint white cloud, her gaze still locked on the king’s face. ‘Your words try my patience, King. If you mean to talk, talk. If you mean to fight, fight. Let us end this farce before I break my promise to your son and destroy this city with my bare hands.’

  Jeers echoed around the arena once more. King Gishur frowned before glancing at a soldier standing on the terrace. Mila recognized Kayan, the captain who had once been a slave of the Empire. The latter raised his sword, a grim smirk hovering on his lips.

  At his signal, one of the four metal grilles spanning the walls of the enclosure rose ponderously on Mila’s left, exposing the dark mouth of a tunnel. A second one opened to her right, then a third dead ahead. She stretched out the kinks in her neck and loosened her limbs as she waited for the soldiers who had been chosen to fight her to come out into the arena.

  Looks like this will be a bare-knuckle fight.

  A sound came then, one that she had not expected. By the startled cries above her, neither had the crowd.

  Something shifted in the shadows of the tunnel in front of her. Mila stared at the large, sinuous shape moving toward the light. Then, beautiful, limber, as deadly as a pit of scorpions, a lion walked out into the arena. Its golden gaze lazily swept the crowd before settling on her with the accuracy of a well-aimed arrow. At four feet tall and ten feet long, it was a monster of a beast, all muscle, claws, and teeth, its luxurious mane dark against its tan coat.

  There was movement on either side of her. Mila broke eye contact with the fearsome creature some thirty feet away long enough to clock the second and third lions ambling out of the tunnels. The grilles dropped down after the animals, locking them inside the arena with her.

  A buzz of anticipation built among the spectators, overlaying the initial shock and fear that had gripped them.

  An angry voice rose above the drone. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  It was Aäron, eyes dark as he stood on the terrace glaring at the king.

  The latter studied him with an inscrutable expression before gazing at Mila once more. ‘It is a contest. A battle of strength and skill. A way for the Red Queen to prove her worth to me.’

  Surprise flashed through Mila. In the king’s eyes, she finally registered the meaning behind the challenge he had issued.

  A trace of admiration shot through her. He is a clever man.

  ‘Yes, but in a fair fight!’ barked Aäron. ‘You never mentioned anything about these creatures yesterday! There is nothing honorable about this!’

  ‘Aäron is right,’ said Megash stonily.

  The second prince had risen to his feet. Next to him, the woman with the plait held Gilgamesh’s hand and spoke to the boy in urgent tones, her fingers curled in his hair as she tried to burrow his head in her chest. Gilgamesh resisted, his eyes locked on Mila and the three lions slowly circling the arena, their roars breaking through the excited voices from the gathered masses. She read fear in his eyes and pale face.

  ‘Since when have our enemies ever been fair to us?’ King Gishur said harshly. ‘As for the lions, we have all heard tales of the pit in Uryl, where such beasts regularly feast on the flesh of the humans who dare defy the kings. Let us see how an Immortal fares under similar conditions!’

  Mila scanned the enclosure. Several cracks in the stone wall caught her gaze. They would do for purchase if she needed to gain ele
vation. She studied the dust beneath her feet, dirt to most but a powerful weapon when it came to distracting an enemy.

  ‘I demand that you stop this now, father,’ growled Aäron. ‘This has gone far enough.’

  As she considered the three lions, Mila thought of her brother and cousins. Jared, who would have moved the creatures with his elemental powers and not allowed them within an inch of him. Navia, who would have frozen their bodies to the ground with her mind and had them cower in fear before her. Rafael, who would have healed his wounds as fast as they appeared while he battled the creatures with his staff weapon. She had none of their unearthly abilities.

  ‘I am afraid it is too late for that. This contest must go ahead,’ King Gishur responded.

  A slight smile curved Mila’s lips when she recalled her conversation with Jared on their way to Hazaara all those moons ago, during which he professed that her skills in battle were just as otherworldly as their gifts. She had never denied his words. For they were true. She possessed something more forceful and deadly than her brother and cousins’ mysterious powers.

  The soul of a perfect warrior. One who had yet to lose a single battle.

  Although, I could do with a sword or two right about now.

  ‘Then you leave me no choice,’ said Aäron.

  There was a commotion on the terrace. He ignored his father’s shout, grabbed something, and hurled it inside the arena.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The bident thudded into the dirt some fifteen feet in front of her, forked prongs driven an inch into the ground by the force of the throw, wooden handle drawing every gaze in the arena as it vibrated to a slow stop.

  In the next moment, Gilgamesh sprang to his feet and snatched his father’s dagger from the latter’s waist before casting it toward Mila. The knife clattered on the ground and skittered to a stop some twenty feet to her left, metal blade glinting in the sunlight. He let out an excited shout and ignored his mother’s shocked cry as she rose and took him in her arms.