Origins

by A D Starrling

  ‘Mother?’ Tobias murmured in surprise a moment later.

  Rafael frowned. ‘Jared?’

  They glanced at each other, faces reflecting Baruch’s own bewilderment.

  Jared reached them first and pulled up sharply. He leapt from his horse before the creature came to a halt, grabbed the bridle of his mother’s steed when she slowed beside him, and helped her down.

  ‘How did you know we were here?’ said Hosanna as they approached.

  ‘Navia,’ Jared replied in a hard voice.

  Rafael narrowed his eyes. ‘What is wrong?’

  It was Helena who replied, her voice as cold as her son’s. ‘Crovir went to Issin and forcefully took Eleaza and Kaleb from the palace. He killed a servant boy who tried to defend the children.’

  Baruch rocked back on his heels. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you certain?’ Tobias said harshly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jared.

  ‘Mila?’ whispered Hosanna in the stunned hush, her expression stricken. ‘And Kronos?’

  Jared gritted his teeth. ‘We took her to Larraak. Navia came to meet us halfway. She had a vision of what was happening and heard Mila screaming in her mind. She managed to calm her down, somehow. Beatrix is with them. As for Kronos, he left Issin with Crovir.’

  Phebe covered her mouth with her hands, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Tears filled her eyes.

  In the shocked stillness that followed, they heard another horse approach from the west. Bastian appeared below them a short while later.

  He was alone.

  He climbed the slope rapidly and dismounted in the shallow depression where they had left their steeds, before making his way toward them. Unease flashed across his face as he drew near.

  His steps faltered. ‘I was not expecting to see all of you here.’ He frowned at Baruch. ‘You said you wanted to talk?’

  ‘Did you know?’ said Baruch, his mouth full of ash.

  Bastian stopped in his tracks, mystified. ‘Know what?’

  ‘That Crovir had taken Eleaza and Kaleb from Issin?’ said Helena. She crossed the hilltop until she stood face to face with her step-brother. ‘That he is planning to use them as collateral if Mila dares challenge him?’

  ‘What—what are you talking about?’ demanded the younger king.

  Helena told him of all that had come to pass, of the true identity of the one who had killed Romerus, of Mila’s flight from the Empire and her shocking discovery in the Zagros Mountains and the plains beyond.

  Bastian listened wordlessly while she spoke, blood draining from his face, his expression aging in what seemed a matter of heartbeats, shoulders sagging and frame stooping as if an unbearable load weighed him down. It was when Helena mentioned Kadavan that he finally interrupted her.

  ‘I know. I know about Kadavan and the army.’

  Another wave of shock coursed through Baruch. ‘How?’

  Bastian gazed at him blindly. ‘The troop commander who was in charge of the prison came to the palace this morning.’

  Jared drew a breath in sharply. ‘So he is aware? Crovir knows about the human army and what they intend?’

  Bastian nodded.

  ‘We have to warn them,’ said Ysa.

  Tobias turned to her, startled. ‘You have made up your mind?’

  Ysa walked up to him and caressed his face, her loving gaze unflinching. ‘I made my decision that day, in Larraak.’

  Baruch looked to Hosanna, his heart thundering in his chest, knowing that they stood on the precipice of something momentous, something that would forever change their world and the fate of millions of souls. She watched him for a moment before dipping her chin, her eyes bright and filled with determination.

  ‘So it is agreed,’ said Rafael, looking around their small group.

  Bastian blinked, his expression finally clearing. ‘What is?’

  Baruch stared at his father, his pulse racing, blood roaring in his ears. ‘We have to stop Crovir.’

  ‘We will stand with Mila and the human army,’ said Tobias.

  Their words hung in the air, the meaning behind them irrefutable, reflecting the cold reality of their new conviction.

  ‘You will turn against your own father?’ Bastian said, his troubled gaze sweeping across Tobias, Ysa, and Jared before landing on Helena. ‘And you your husband?’

  ‘He killed Romerus,’ said Helena quietly. ‘And he blamed our own daughter for the terrible crime he committed. Not only that, but he now seeks to control her actions by taking her children, his own flesh and blood, prisoner. Why can you not see it, brother? Why can you not see the evil that dwells inside him? The wickedness he wishes to tar us with, to drag us into the hellish nightmare born of his corrupted soul?’

  Her voice shook, tears shimmering on her lashes as she gazed at the younger king.

  ‘Because he is the other half of me,’ Bastian whispered. ‘He has always been. I cannot be without him.’

  Helena watched him silently before raising gentle fingers to smooth out the lines on his brow.

  ‘What will you do?’ she breathed.

  Bastian closed his eyes for a moment. The expression in their depths when he opened them once more was a knife driving into Baruch’s chest.

  ‘I do not know.’

  Baruch clenched his jaw and felt Hosanna’s hand slide into his, her shoulders shaking silently beside him.

  They were all crying. For they knew. This was it. The beginning of the end. The dawn of the darkness that Hosanna had told Baruch Navia spoke of when they met in Nawaar, all those Moons ago. And they had chosen their side.

  They would stand with the strongest and most righteous of all of them. The one who had started it all the day she made the fateful decision to spare a governor and a city. The one whose stark words in Larraak still resonated within them. The one who had convinced them to change the destiny that had been forged for them by a madman and dared them to take their fortune in their own hands.

  Their cousin. Their sister. Their daughter. Their kin.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kronos watched the city burn below him, his face impassive. Shrieks and wails rose in the night, tortured voices echoing against the walls of the narrow canyon as skin blackened and flesh charred. Those who tried to escape the blaze fell rapidly upon the swords of the soldiers waiting beyond the wall, their scorched bodies finding relief in a swifter death.

  It took a long time for the screaming to stop. It was only when the roar of the fire ravaging timber and thatch dwellings became the sole sound filling the ravine that Kronos finally wheeled his stallion around and trotted through his troops.

  It is all her fault. Everything is. The blood of all these people is on her hands, not mine.

  With hate for his wife a malignant blight slowly growing in his heart, Kronos ordered the soldiers south.

  They met some fifty leagues north of the city of Nemrik, in a valley carved by the Tigra River, an army some three-thousand strong and growing.

  Eight days had passed since Aäron departed Larraak, eight days during which he had met with the messengers who left Parsah over two Half Moons ago, on their mission to convene the leaders of the alliance and their troops. Eight days during which he could not see her face, could not touch her skin, could not kiss her lips.

  In the short time that he had been separated from Mila, Aäron felt as if he had lost a part of himself. But though he ached to be with her, to fuse their bodies and souls together, he had little time to dwell on his yearning. There was a war to organize.

  He stood talking with the governors and commanders of the various assembled factions, debating the plans he and Mila had started to put together in the hidden Parsah. It was as he was privately wondering at the fact that Darius had still not arrived with the troops from Dur Untash that the alarm sounded.

  Aäron tensed at the distant sound of a horn coming from a hill to the east. It was a warning, one his men had been trained to issue upon seeing a potential enemy. Ignori
ng the murmur of nervous voices, he hurried from the makeshift table holding maps of the Empire and found his horse.

  Kayan and a group of twenty soldiers joined him as he raced across the dark land toward the source of the signal.

  ‘Do you think it is the Empire?’ asked the captain as their mounts ate away the distance separating them from the elevation ahead.

  ‘I hope not,’ Aäron replied grimly. ‘Otherwise this war starts tonight.’

  It did not take them long to climb the slopes and find the sentinels stationed in a shallow depression overlooking the plains that stretched toward the hazy, far-off peaks of the Zagros Range.

  ‘What is it?’ said Aäron as he lowered himself down beside one of the soldiers.

  The man pointed. ‘Over there, to the south. There are people coming.’ He swallowed. ‘A lot of them.’

  Aäron narrowed his eyes in the direction he indicated. It was an overcast night, with clouds stretching across the heavens as far as the eye could see, blanketing out the moon and stars.

  Then he saw it. Movement on the lowlands. A shifting in the darkness. Shadows where there should be none. His mouth went dry.

  They were only three leagues away.

  ‘Return to camp and raise the alarm,’ he told Kayan briskly. ‘We must—’

  That was when they heard it. The sound of another horn. One they knew all too well.

  Kayan drew a sharp breath. ‘That is—’

  Apprehension filled Aäron as he stared at the mass of people approaching across the plains. ‘The distress call of Parsah.’

  He headed down the hill and onto the lowlands with some ten men while the others returned to the camp. Then, as the moon finally pierced through the grey mantle covering the land, the first among them came into view.

  ‘Megash?’ Aäron whispered hoarsely.

  He dug his thighs into his steed’s flanks and galloped toward his brother, his heart thundering in his chest.

  They met a moment later. A sleeping Gilgamesh sat in the saddle in front of Megash, head lolling against his father’s chest.

  ‘We found you,’ the younger prince muttered in a tired voice, his shoulders sagging in relief.

  Aäron stared past him to Nisuna and the baby in the sling around her chest, then to the thousands beyond, most on horses, some on carts, a few even on foot.

  His gaze found his brother’s face once more. ‘What happened?’

  Mila urged Buros on, a cold wind whipping at her hair and numbing her face. The stallion responded to her command, breath leaving his muzzle in fast pants as he accelerated, muscles moving powerfully below her.

  ‘Slow down before you kill yourself!’ Ysa shouted behind her.

  Mila paid her no heed, her gaze focused on the hills outlined against the reddening sky ahead.

  Day had broken by the time they reached the location of the meeting point she and Aäron had agreed upon with the commanders in Parsah and Dur Untash. They pulled up sharply on a ridge above the valley, their horses rearing up and stamping their hooves at the abrupt halt. Next to them rode one of the sentinels who had been posted to the south to watch for their approach.

  Abu squawked and fluttered onto Mila’s shoulder as she stared down the escarpment, his feathers stroking her left cheek briefly before he folded his wings and gripped her armor with his claws.

  ‘This army looks larger than the one you spoke of, cousin,’ said Hosanna.

  Mila frowned. She was right. There were at least five thousand souls below them.

  They made their way down the cliffside and soon reached the edge of the vast camp stretching along the banks of the Tigra. Silence fell around them as they trotted through rows of tents, the crowd stopping and staring, some faces hostile, most fearful. The banner of the red eagle flapped atop dozens of poles, the crimson bird stark against its pale background.

  Mila realized it was the first time she would ride into battle under a pennant other than that of the Empire.

  ‘There are injured people here,’ murmured Phebe.

  Mila remained silent, her troubled gaze sweeping the sea of bodies until it landed on the center of the camp and the figures who stood waiting under the shade of a canopy. She had eyes for only one of them.

  As Aäron’s features swam into sight, his lips curving in the faint smile she had become accustomed to, Mila allowed herself to feel again for the first time in days.

  The horror and agony that had possessed her in Issin swept over her once more, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Though still raw and fresh in her mind, the pain had eased slightly in the company of her siblings and cousins.

  They reached the canopy and dismounted. Then, unheeding of the eyes watching them, Mila crossed the ground to Aäron and wrapped her arms around his chest. He froze for an instant before enfolding her tightly in his hold.

  Gasps sounded from all around. Mila ignored the shocked murmurs that followed and felt a modicum of peace sweep through her as she listened to the strong heartbeat underneath her ear.

  ‘Not exactly the best way to kill those rumors, you two,’ muttered someone close by.

  She stepped back and looked past Aäron to find Megash gazing at them wryly. Governor Tanis stood beside him, eyes round, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Mila frowned at Megash. ‘You are several days early, are you not?’

  Before he could reply, low voices rose behind her.

  ‘Are those two, you know—?’ Ysa muttered.

  ‘What, fornicating?’ said Hosanna bluntly. ‘It looks like that might be the case, yes.’

  ‘Hosanna!’ Beatrix admonished.

  ‘Seriously, your mouth is as filthy as that of your husband,’ murmured Phebe.

  ‘I could not agree more,’ said Beatrix acerbically.

  ‘What is going on?’ Malachi asked.

  ‘Keep up, brother!’ snapped Hosanna.

  Aäron took hold of Mila’s chin and gently tilted her head. ‘What is wrong?’

  Mila registered his weary expression and the fresh creases on his brow. There was something else. Something deep in his eyes that caused unease to coil through her.

  ‘Crovir took Eleaza and Kaleb to Uryl.’ Her tone turned bitter. ‘They are now prisoners in the citadel, although my—father would argue otherwise.’

  Aäron stiffened and let go of her, his face darkening.

  Mila indicated the camp. ‘What happened here?’

  A baby’s wail rose from somewhere close by in the hush that followed.

  ‘Dur Untash and the Parsah on the plains, the one the Empire knew of, are no more,’ Aäron replied in a dull voice.

  ‘What?’ said Hosanna, her voice echoing the shock coursing through Mila.

  ‘It is true,’ said Megash with a dip of his chin. His gaze found Mila. ‘It seems someone betrayed us.’

  ‘So the men we sent to warn them were too late?’ whispered Ysa, her face pale.

  Confusion washed across the faces of the governors and commanders gathered under the canopy.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Aäron, his eyes searching Mila’s face for answers.

  ‘The troop commander from Kadavan defected,’ she said stiffly. ‘He reached Uryl the day after Crovir took my children from Issin and told the kings what happened at the prison and what he knew of our plans.’

  ‘We sent messengers to alert the governors of Dur Untash and Parsah,’ said Hosanna. Lines furrowed her brow. ‘Those men are no doubt dead.’

  Troubled murmurs rose around them.

  ‘We suspected the traitor was you, at first,’ grumbled Tanis, staring at Mila with a somewhat guilty look.

  Phebe frowned. ‘Who destroyed Dur Untash and Parsah?’

  Aäron closed his eyes briefly and took a shallow breath. Dread filled Mila at his expression. A flash of intuition followed.

  ‘Kronos?’ she said hoarsely before he could speak.

  Aäron swallowed and nodded.

  ‘Darius su
rvived the fires at Dur Untash, although he is badly burnt,’ Megash continued, anger and sadness lacing his voice.

  ‘Fires?’ repeated Phebe.

  ‘Yes. After soldiers surrounded the canyon in the deep of night, they tossed barrels of oil from the heights above, straight down into the city. All they had to do after that was fire flame-lit arrows from outside the walls. Those who did not suffocate from the smoke or burn in the flames were killed when they tried to escape.’

  Mila’s gaze switched between Megash and Aäron. ‘The troops? Governor Edras?’

  ‘Only a hundred men survived of the thousand odd who were based there. Most suffocated when smoke filled the caves or perished in the flames when they went to help the people in the valley.’ Aäron paused. ‘Governor Edras is among the dead.’

  ‘And Parsah?’ said Hosanna.

  A tortured expression washed across Aäron’s face. ‘We had no soldiers based at the Parsah on the plains. There were only citizens there, some three thousand of them. Men and women who would have been ready to join our ranks if and when we asked. Most of them are dead. Kronos stormed the city with troops from Uryl and slaughtered nearly every living soul within its walls. Once our sentinels detected the smoke coming from that direction, Megash and soldiers from our palace went to the aid of those who survived the massacre.’

  A horrified gasp escaped Beatrix. Hosanna uttered a colorful curse.

  Mila raised a hand and gently touched his cheek, her heart breaking all over again at the agony in his blue eyes, anger and torment twisting her gut.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.

  He clasped her fingers tightly. ‘Why? It was not your fault.’ He inhaled shakily. ‘Megash and my father decided to mobilize the army in the hidden valley there and then, in case the soldiers of the Empire discovered its location. They arrived last night, with the survivors from Dur Untash and the fallen Parsah.’

  Mila glanced around. ‘And the king?’

  Megash shook his head. Exasperation underscored his voice. ‘He stayed behind with some two hundred soldiers to guard the city and its people. He would not leave the place of his birth.’