by S Kaeth
“I’m the king’s guard. I’ll always be the king’s guard.”
“You could be so much more.” What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he in the city? “How did you know?”
Theron shook his head. “You, foolish woman, are terrible at keeping secrets. You said goodbye. It felt like a real goodbye.”
Tears of fear and pain blurred her vision. Why was she always so blind to the way things truly were? “Are you really going to turn us in?”
“I told you, I’m the king’s guard. I’m a loyal man, Kaemada.” The sound of his boots on the floor echoed, as useless to argue against as the vice grip he had on her arm.
“Theron, I thought you were my friend! You said I would always be safe with you!”
He shook her. Pain shot through her arm and she bit her tongue. Her head hurt, and the room spun around her as she was snapped back and forth like a rag. Fury twisted his expression.
Why would he be furious at her? Of all things… the discrepancy sliced through the fear and pain.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked when he stopped shaking her.
“Of course, I’m angry with you! You think I want this?” he roared at her, resuming his stride. “I don’t want this!”
“I’m not making you do anything.”
“You can’t truly be that stupid. You think you can try for running away and not pay the price?”
Kaemada glared at him, planting her feet, but she barely slowed Theron at all. Eian was screaming, struggling uselessly in Theron’s other arm. Blood dripped from her forehead, and her knife wound tore as she fought, coating her with blood.
“I thought you were smarter than this. After all I did to you. I saved you! And this is how you repay me?”
She barely bit back a retort, and he snarled at her. “You realize, don’t you, that the other guards would have visited you had I not staked my claim? Not all of them are as pleasant as I am.”
“That does not make it right!”
Theron took the corners quickly, bouncing her off the walls, as unaffected by her struggles as a rock to water. Battered and bloody, she tried to claw his grip off her arm like a rodent beating at an alanshorn. Through the whole nightmare, he remained impeccably groomed. Theron’s hands would remain clean, even while he took her and her son to their deaths. It was unbearable.
He wrenched her into the throne room and shoved Eian into Aleis’s grasp. The girl held tightly to him, offering Kaemada a too-sweet smile.
Doubled over from the pain shooting through her arm, she growled at Aleis. “You do not want to hurt him.”
The psions stood at their posts, like shrouded statues. She would have to fight them. They’d die if she didn’t at least try, so keeping her abilities secret didn’t matter anymore. And her psionics had to have returned by now, didn’t they? It had been five moons.
The king scowled at her, sitting on his chair.
“My king, I caught this one trying for escaping up the fireplace.” Theron bowed, his fingers digging into her arm.
The king leaned forward, placing his chin on one hand. “So, then. Were you alone in this folly?”
“Let Eian go!”
“How many others joined your escape attempt?”
“Let Eian go!”
“Tell me!”
She stared back with all the defiance she could muster, though she trembled so hard she could barely stand. Her eyes flickered to the psions. Could she do it? Could she beat them? Bile rose in her throat. Psions fighting psions? Those days were supposed to be long done.
The king waved his hand in dismissal. “I tire of this. Let the psions glean what they will from her mind.” He smiled at her. “I’ll know what you know, no matter how you fight me. Take the boy away, Aleis. You can play with him however you like. I care not.”
Tears streamed down Eian’s face as he squirmed in Aleis’s grasp.
“Let. Him. Go!” Kaemada screamed.
Theron shook her again. Agony burned from her elbow to her fingers, and her teeth clacked together. As soon as the world stopped swimming, she lashed out at Theron telepathically. There was no finesse, no skill, only brute force and desperation. His grip on her arm broke as he turned toward her, a look of horror on his face.
“Psion! Psion!” unfamiliar voices screamed.
The gleam of metal flashed in her eyes, and then Theron plunged his knife into her stomach once, twice, again. Pain consumed her, and black dotted her vision as she grabbed his arm, her blood coating his once pristine hands.
See, decide, act, and face the consequences.
His hands grabbed her throat, and she beat at him, desperate for air as the pressure on her neck tightened. Eian’s screams filled her ears, her every muscle tight with desperation. She wasn’t strong enough to do this. Not this way. Because she wasn’t like Taunos. She wasn’t like Takiyah or Ra’ael, to beat him with strength or wits. She was Kaemada, and she could only ever be Kaemada. But she was strong in other ways.
She let go.
Forgetting her body, Kaemada scrambled into his mind, past his barriers. His horror surrounded her, and she rode that wave of emotions to his greatest fears. In the dreamworld, emotion didn’t touch her, but still, she paused. Theron’s loyalty was his pride, but it was a mask. She pulled it away, and beneath it, the relief of not having to make decisions, of not holding the final say, shone through. He was afraid to lead. No wonder he was happy to do whatever was asked of him, so long as he didn’t have to take responsibility for the consequences.
She wove a hasty dream around those fears and solidified it in his mind to haunt him. Coming back to herself, her teeth clacked together. Theron was convulsing, and another guard whipped her back and forth, grappling to get at her. She dealt him the same treatment, so his nights would be filled with the agony of being burned alive, and his days filled with the horror of remembering it.
Her head pounded and her stomach twisted. Her ears rang. She was doing too much, but there was more to do. These horrors wouldn’t end until the king was dead, and the pressures of the psions weighed on her mind. She was cracking, squashing like an egg. Light lanced painfully through her head.
Aleis shouted.
Kaemada hurled her mental attack at the king. There was a swirling around her as the psions rebounded, caught by surprise. She struggled against the mental walls they'd built for the king. The mental imprints of many, many psions were stamped on those walls, and her own walls were crumbling as the psions lashed out at her. They beat against her like a drum, ever louder and more violent.
Eian was screaming, but she couldn’t pay attention long enough to understand. A glimpse of Aleis fleeing the room.
Awareness of physical surroundings only divided her attention. The king was too far away—she needed to be closer to deal more damage, to break through his walls. She needed every ounce of power to beat them, to give Eian a chance to run, a chance to hide. If only she had Tannevar to help her! A battle cry ripped from her small frame, and she dreamwalked, lending power to her telepathy while her broken body slumped to the bloodied floor.
Everything became clear. There was only one important thing: the king. The psions would be dealt with afterward. She shot toward his cruel song through the swirling dreamscape like a dagger, plunging into his mental wall. Gathering herself, she crashed against it again, her mental power stronger in the dreamwalking state. The psions’ songs were touched with indecision, and that gave her the time she needed.
Kaemada burst through all at once, sliding through a crack in the king’s mental walls. You should have let us go. I will not let you hurt Eian.
She boxed herself up tight, affording herself some flimsy protection from his prying as he scrabbled at her mind. There in his head, his inner thoughts and plans, the tragedy of his memories, it was all clear to her. He displayed pride in all the wrong places, and though there was regret, it was covered by a sense of deserving. He’d made so many sacrifices, traded so many lives for comfort, and he thought it
was worth it. And he would continue to do even more. Revulsion shook her.
And the king laughed at her.
She and Eian and the other captives were just tools to be used, rewards to hand out to the loyal. They were nothing to him, though she herself was becoming more annoying than she was worth. Eian, though, the king could let live. For a while, at least. Sometimes toys got broken, but there were always replacements.
Kaemada flung her mental daggers at him. The life spark of the king extinguished. Shock froze her for a moment, both her own and echoes of the king’s surprise as he died. It left a heavy sense of responsibility, of guilt. Of grief for what could not be.
The king’s psions besieged her, only moments too late. Kaemada fought them with what remained of her strength. They smothered her, drowned her.
Eian, be safe.
White light burst, with a feeling as if something had broken or been loosed, and then everything went black.
ÌTAL-HAETH
Chapter Eighteen
An ill-treated ebr may choose to seek asylum. At such time, the ebr will be put up for auction and awarded to the highest bidder; the proceeds shall benefit the Scouts. Few will mistreat a thing they have paid a great deal of money for.
—excerpt from the Kamalti City of Codr Code of Law
“But what place would the Outsiders have if we admitedt them into society? Already, Detr imagines a Future in which we are once more subjugated under their rule.”
“And you and I have both heard the rumors that the City of Rhedr is warring against its neighbors. How long before such unrest reaches our own cave system? No, we have enough to think about without throwing the savages into the mix.”
“Savages, Lord Tetl?”
With her back turned to the Philosophers’ meeting, Ra’ael poured a glass of water from the pitcher at the side table. She smiled to hear that tone in Dode’s voice. It spoke of danger for the unlucky person she directed it on. The last time Dode had used that whipcrack was nearly a moon ago when the mob set upon them during Takiyah’s escape attempt. If only Takiyah had succeeded. If only Ra’ael could check on her.
The meeting wore on Ra’ael’s nerves, but at least their verbal sparring would bring some entertainment. Of course, not even the Philosophers would ask “Outsiders” what should be done about them. They considered themselves enlightened, and yet they ignored her.
With smooth movements, she slipped between the chairs to set the drink in front of Dode, who grasped her hand in thanks, taking a moment to smile at her. Ra’ael smiled back, knowing the proud nobility around the table would take offense at this breach of manners—but how were simple gratitude and decency a breach of manners? It was all a scene played out with intention by Dode, and thrilling amusement filled Ra’ael whenever she partook in the game.
She took a step back, ready to head back to the wall where the nobles would say she belonged. The world went fuzzy and dark at the edges. At the table, Dode stiffened, then slumped forward. Ra’ael reached for her, but the world tilted, slid, and went black.
~
Takiyah gritted her teeth and blasted a scrap of fabric into ash. She staggered, but when they tossed the next item in front of her, she blasted it as well. Sweat poured off her, her breath came in ragged gasps, and exhaustion numbed her. She longed to sleep for days, but that wasn’t an option.
Don’t think. Only see to the next flame. Then the next.
How much longer could she keep this up? No, she shouldn’t think, just keep going. She had to put off the next punishment as long as she could. Her leg still throbbed where her captors had broken it, and the brand on her cheek, gifted to her three days ago, was raw and blistered.
Chaos erupted in the market. Some of the Kamalti just… stopped. Some fell to the ground, and others shouted and ran about as if they were seeing or hearing things. More stared at nothing and rocked themselves back and forth. A steamwagon careened off the road, its driver incapacitated, and plowed through several stalls, and onto another road.
More importantly, her captors lay crumpled by the table. No one was paying attention to her.
She paused, breathless, leaning against the table in front of her. Did she dare believe it? Yes. She had to.
Takiyah ran.
~
Taunos followed Answer through the streets, barely paying attention to his surroundings. Galod would have scolded him, but it was so much effort just to put one foot in front of the other without stumbling or appearing as exhausted as he truly was. Answer’s Scouting meeting had been so mind-numbingly boring he was looking forward to polishing the silverware. He suffered through the meeting, since Answer had begun using him as her bodyguard, mimicking Dode’s use of Ra’ael. It was just another chance for her to show him off. He tolerated it. The only blow was to his pride, and that was in tatters, anyway.
A familiar force nearly knocked him off his feet. He could almost hear his sister’s battle cry ringing in his mind. He staggered against one of the massive pillars before regaining his balance.
It couldn’t be so. It had to be his imagination.
A steamwagon rocketed down the road, weaving erratically in their direction, its driver slumped over the controls. Answer stumbled at the side of the road, falling in its path. Taunos yanked her out of the way, a force of will more than anything else.
Darkness crashed over him.
Figures hovered above him. He was lying on the ground. Adrenaline surged through him as he fought his way back to consciousness. Snapping open his eyes, Taunos grabbed one of the figures, rolling it onto the floor and switching places with it. As he did so, he grabbed the other’s leg, tossing it to the ground. The world rolled around him, up and down flip-flopping. He gripped the figure beneath him by the shoulder, more for stability than anything else, solidifying that direction in his mind as down while his stomach turned.
It was Answer, he realized, wide-eyed with fear and anger. He was in the entryway of Answer’s home straddling her, and the other figure was a strange woman, just now getting to her feet. Answer grabbed his hand in both of hers, breaking his grip on her shoulder. Up and down switched places again and continued tilting dangerously. Taunos’s back hit the floor, and he found relief in at least knowing where down was again. He held his open hands by his head, yielding, as he closed his eyes to shut out the spinning world.
“My apologies. I wasn’t aware it was you, Answer.” He clenched his jaw, nauseous from the effort of speaking.
“It is fast. I will give it that,” murmured the strange woman.
Taunos risked opening his eyes. Thankfully, the room’s spinning began to slow.
“And strong.” Answer rose, looking down at him. “If you bleed on my rugs, you will have to wash them.”
She turned to the strange woman. “See that his injury is closed. And should he give you any trouble, let me know, and he will answer dearly for it. When he is cleaned up, send him into the parlor to arrange the lanterns for my dinner party tonight. He should be well enough for that, yes, Doctor?”
“Yes, I think it will be well enough to serve. It may have a nasty headache.”
Answer hesitated, then sniffed and lifted her head. “Yes. Well, then. I leave you to your work, Doctor.”
The room rocked, threatening to spin again, and Taunos closed his eyes once more. The woman’s hands were firm as she stitched him up with apparently no more care than she’d give a piece of cloth, even though it was his head she was stabbing with the needle. He felt nothing, oddly, and spent the time trying to decide how much pain he was in. The Doctor murmured to herself about how soft his head was and how he should take better care of it, but Taunos tuned her out. He had gone black again. The only other time that had happened, Kaemada had been the cause. What did that mean? How could she have survived that fall? It was impossible. What, then, caused the black that had enveloped him? The Sleep? And Answer… she’d been affected. He’d never seen her trip and fall like that.
The Doctor stood, packed he
r bag, and left without a word to him. Slowly, Taunos picked himself off the floor, holding on to the wall as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He brushed his fingers over his forehead, grazing over the stitches. Step by step, he made it to the parlor, leaning against the doorway for a moment to fend off vertigo.
Answer sat on the couch with her mouth pursed in thought and her gaze distant. He almost shook his head but thought better of it. Apparently he had lanterns to clean. As he walked toward the first side table, one hand trailing on the wall for balance, Answer stood and blocked his path. Why did she have to make everything more difficult? He clenched his jaw.
“Why did you save me?” Answer asked. “You have made it clear what you think about being my bodyguard. It would have been a good way to rid yourself of me.”
The room swayed around him. He felt even woozier than what passed for normal the last five moons. Stifling a groan, he leaned against the wall to stay upright.
Answer continued. “There were none of your countrymen there, nor any innocent bystanders to save. If you did it to gain favor, you should know I have no power in your term, nor will I treat you as more than just an ebr.”
“You at least do not refer to me as ‘it.’ You’re dangerously close to treating me like a person.”
“You are infuriating,” Answer groaned.
“I’m told it’s one of my many talents,” Taunos grimaced.
“Tell me, is that why you did it?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Taunos shook his head and immediately regretted it as his vision swam. Why had he done it? He hadn’t even thought about it.
“You needed saving,” he said at last.
Answer stared at him as if he had two heads. “I have been awful to you, and you respond like this? Your people are mad.”
Taunos chuckled. “You may not be entirely wrong on that count. But we’re a lovable sort of mad if you let yourself.”
