Shon groaned, stunned. Kepsalon had jumped on him! What kind of idiot was he?
Kepsalon tapped him on the head. "I said Naatos cannot know you're alive," he said tightly. "I also said that you needed to stay put. Do you just enjoy ignoring me?"
Rapid footsteps pounded around the corner as five Ayamin appeared, each one armed.
"Didn't foresee that fall?" one of the Ayamin asked, pointing the arrow at Kepsalon's face.
Kepsalon's eyes narrowed. "The likelihood of my twisting my ankle was five grains of blue sand in a sea of silver."
"Pretty unlucky then," the archer said.
"Some might say so," Kepsalon responded.
The other Ayamin dragged Shon to his feet. The younger blanched to see him. "Sir," he stammered.
Shon swayed on his feet, his eyes struggling to focus as blood filled his mouth.
"More attempts, I see." Vorec shook his head as he strode out from the tower. "And you this time. I'm disappointed but not truly surprised. This sort of madness does not easily leave." He clicked his tongue as if concerned, then gestured toward the other side of the courtyard. "Take him to be with his brother and put this one in with the other Machat."
Kepsalon gave him a rueful smile, still gripping his swollen ankle. "One word of caution, elder commander. You have been cruel but cruel for a purpose. Yet even so, death will come for you unless you turn away. Send the former Paras and the Third Nalenth through the Tue-Rah with medicine and supplies, and warmth and light will once again shine upon you along with Elonumato's favor. It is not for you to judge and demand payment for the crimes of the former Paras."
Vorec rolled his eyes, grunting with annoyance. "You so-called prophets lack foresight if you think your pointless warnings and lectures will have an impact on any here. I have half a mind to throw you in with those three."
"Let me face Naatos." Shon spat out the mouthful of blood. "I have unfinished business with him already."
Vorec set his arms akimbo. "He killed you once already. You may be a bewitched fool, but I see no purpose in wasting your life." He pointed at Shon's head. "The commander is clearly going mad. Make sure to bind him properly before you put him in the cell with the others. We don't want him to hurt them."
"Don't make me your enemy, Vorec," Shon shouted as the Ayamin dragged him off. "I will make you pay for this."
"I'm not your enemy, Shon. I'm your elder commander." Vorec drew his hand over his face, weariness shining in his expression before disappearing beneath its husk of sternness. "Give him a sedative. If he becomes too excitable, have him placed in a separate cell. Actually wait." He paused, the Vs in his forehead deepening.
"No!" Shon shouted. "Don't sedate me. Unhand me."
Vorec shook his head. "Put him in the clearing chamber for the next day and administer the sedative via the smoke. And bind him properly or he'll wound himself further. This heartbreak will drive him mad, and I won't bring more sorrow on his father's head."
Shon struggled all the harder, but the Ayamin who gripped him maintained their hold. "Let go!"
Kepsalon twisted about. "Worry about your own head. Two days from now—"
"Elonumato take you," Vorec snarled. "Why did he waste his breath on making your kind?"
"Ask Him yourself," Kepsalon called back. "You'll see Him sooner than any of us here unless you change your course. You and hundreds more."
26
A Quiet Place
Cold water splashed over Amelia, rousing her painfully from her slumber. She blinked slowly.
"Get dressed."
Amelia turned her head to the left. A grey-garbed woman with long coiled braids stood in the entrance to the barred room, a large clay pitcher in hand.
Wiping the water from her face, Amelia took in her surroundings. She was no longer in the dungeon but in a small holding chamber, laying stomach-first on a scuffed wooden bench. A large washstand stood near her head with a cracked clay pitcher and large stone bowl. Fresh clothes lay on the floor as if dropped from a stack.
"'Ey, did you hear me?" The woman shook her head, then muttered under her breath before saying louder, "You're to get up and get dressed. Your trial begins in three hours."
"My trial?" Amelia repeated, her tongue thick.
"The king and queen have returned, and you are to be judged for everything." Disgust and grief twisted the woman's face, reddening her cheeks and sharpening her eyes. "The elder commander says nothing'll save you and the skinchangers this time; the king is finally seeing reason. By Elonumato, I pray he's right. You deserve to burn. My aunt did because of your husband. And my cousins were beheaded."
"I'm sorry." Amelia rubbed her hands over her aching elmis. If there was enough material, she needed to bind her elmis just to cope with this perpetual deluge of sorrow, rage, and pain. Her own emotions were hard enough to manage without everyone else's pouring into her.
"As if that's worth anything," the woman sneered tearfully. She spat on the stone floor. "Worthless pinchat. I hope you burn and your lovers drown. Whatever death they choose won't be nearly painful enough for any of you."
Amelia stared at her blood-stained hands. Perhaps it would have been better if they had just thrown her through the Tue-Rah into Ecekom, dangerous as it was. The emotion blistered along her consciousness, but she could no longer feel it deep within her core. The cold bead shuddered in her mind. She clenched it tighter, refusing to let it go.
"Clean yourself up and prepare for your judgment." The woman spun around, pitcher tight in hand.
Amelia kept her gaze fixed on her hands and the floor. Footsteps scuffed away, the anger ebbing with the woman's departure like smoke through a vent.
There was no way this ended positively. She wasn't even a Machat and yet the future played out in her mind. The king and queen's return and this rushed trial indicated that the negotiations had not gone well. Whatever pull or clout Libysha had, it was severely reduced by all that had transpired. Whether ally or rival, all of the nations were certain to have strong opinions regarding both her presence and the former Paras. And, beneath the surface of her thoughts in a chasm almost as cold as the bead in her mind, Amelia suspected that it was mostly an excuse.
She was a liability. A threat. Uncle Joe's intervention was the only thing that had saved her before. Now she was grown, and the hope she had held for this place, these people, this family, had nearly died.
No matter what defenses or explanations she offered, King Theol would almost certainly banish or imprison her. And who would stop that?
She smiled faintly, almost amused as she took a long draught of the medicine in the green mug on the table. What few allies she had were imprisoned, and as for the Machat—who knew where they were. And Elonumato…she closed her eyes. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to suggest that if Elonumato wanted something done, He find someone else. The sugary chamomile-tasting medicine removed almost all the pain except the knot in her stomach and emotional pressures throughout her chest and shoulders. Of course, none of that was related to the flogging.
The mirror provided her the opportunity to evaluate the wounds. The dress she wore, despite its once beautiful needlework, was barely more than rags, shredded, bloodied, and discolored. Matthu had at least applied the bandages well. The waxy bikro would gradually dissolve into the wound, providing healing and nutrients. Her range of motion along her arms prevented her from adjusting the bandages as well as she liked. But the combination of medicines would gradually increase her capabilities. So long as no infection set in. Amelia tried not to think too much about what her body was doing and how these wounds would heal or what medical complications would almost assuredly arise.
I really don't know how You're going to pull this together, Elonumato, she thought. She gingerly sponged her arm, cleaning dirt and blood from the scars. It did not seem to take long, given her limited resources. But once she stripped off her old dress, she was surprised to find that the odd pressure points on her body were not from wounds but items h
eld against her with bandages. Her gun. A couple daggers. Bullets. The fans. A letter written in what was clearly Naatos's handwriting. His personality bled through the pages as much as the ink.
Warmth spread through Amelia as she realized Matthu or Naatos and WroOth, or perhaps all three, must have done this to give her a chance in Ecekom. She quickly bound the weapons back to her body and carefully pulled on the newly provided dress. It was much finer than she expected, a long rich orchid gown with angel sleeves, a gold embossed bodice, and several thin layers of material. The long cloak merged with the train. Matching bracelets and earrings remained. She placed the bracelets on but hesitated at the earrings.
Given her current situation, it seemed likely that the leaders were having her dress in finery so that they could remove it. She had read about such humiliations. Jewelry, medals, and similar items were typically ripped off or destroyed, making a grand show of the destruction of honor and position. But to not wear such items might result in suggestions that she had stolen them. Or they might force her to wear pieces that would cause even more pain when harshly removed. Both scenarios would lead to worse encroachments on her person.
After a moment of thought, Amelia removed a few threads from the old dress, tied them over her ears, and hung the earrings from the thread strands. If anyone ripped the earrings off, they would come free without tearing her lobes.
A few other adjustments and the weapons were hidden. The cloak obscured much of her body, and the bodice itself was a size or two larger than she needed, relying on the matching sash to give the waist shape.
The brush and a dish of strong hairpins allowed her to fix her hair, curling it up into a simple style that kept it from tangling around her neck or clinging further to her back.
Finally Amelia tore strips from her bloodied gown to bind up her elmis, restricting the information and emotions that flowed to her.
She settled down on the bench once more and examined the letter from Naatos. A slight smile tugged at her mouth. The blood-edged pages were brusque and informative, warning her of the countless things one must not do on Ecekom.
Your weapon and its pieces are on your person as well as the fans. The warmth within Amelia expanded, a comforting presence and reminder she was not entirely alone. That had been a nice gesture, even if the weapons were not currently useful.
I do not know how effective your weapons will be against any of the creatures in Ecekom. At best, the gun will wound the spiders, centipedes, and mantises. Any of the arachnids or arthropods hopefully. But you will have to shoot straight down their mouths or through the narrow joints, and you should not expect kill shots. At best, you will cripple and maim, so you will have to be quick. A series of shots down the gullet, so long as it is aimed downward and not upward, may cause sufficient damage to stop an attack or at least slow it enough for an escape. Your gun will be worthless against the mammals, reptiles, and birds.
The fans are present as well. They are bladed and strong, far stronger than your daggers. But they are best when used defensively. Avoid directly attacking with them if you can, but use them to shield yourself if you are attacked.
There are other things which you absolutely must refrain from:
Do not climb the trees.
Do not enter the rivers or lakes.
Do not go underground in the earth.
Do not go out in open spaces.
Do not go through the tall grass.
Do not try to befriend the animals.
Do not pick up baby animals or eggs.
Do not climb into holes.
Do not play dead.
Do not swim.
Do not draw attention to yourself.
Do not eat any of the fruit or the roots.
Do not dig.
Do not go into caves where you cannot see the back.
Do not follow any lights.
Do not let anything lick you.
Do not crawl under bushes.
Do not fight to save your hand or your leg if something bites you. Cut yourself free and run.
The list went to comical lengths. Amelia smiled despite the harshness of all she'd experienced, then sighed, the letter drooping between her fingers. It was a sweet gesture and surprisingly kind, even if it did seem as if survival in Ecekom was impossible. She lay on her side and stared at the page. It also amused her to see that Naatos had included no salutation nor closing, no statement of affection or wish to see her again. Yet…love was there as plainly as if he had written it.
Her head resting on her forearm, she closed her eyes. The betrothal necklace fell against her arm. She held the etched stone between her thumb and forefinger, stroking the ridges absently. Would it have been so terrible to let them out, she wondered. Everyone else seemed willing to have faith that Elonumato would make things happen the way He desired. Could she, should she, have had faith that He would save Libysha if it was meant to be saved?
Then again, there were many possible shapes the future could take. Many scenarios might ultimately lead to the same outcome. So had she made the right decision? Or was no decision actually right at all? It still felt as if it would be wrong to let the former Paras out if they continued to maintain such horrid desires.
Amelia pressed her lips together and clenched her eyes shut, her grip on the necklace tightening. If Naatos and his brothers had just sworn they would not take vengeance on Libysha…
The darkness deepened. Then green-yarned tapestries slid into view. Amelia lifted her head, half surprised. A faint scent like sulfur and lava reached her. Vague forms struck the edges of her consciousness, but she couldn't quite see them until she focused. Jagged walls and outcroppings stood at intervals. A large domelike structure surrounded her, and a dark form lay on its side a few yards away. Amelia recognized it at once. She walked closer, her steps slow, almost sleepy. "Are you awake, Naatos?"
Naatos lifted his arm from his face. He did not rise from the black floor, but he did smile slightly, his eyes partially closed as if he resisted the sleep. "Hello, viskaro."
Amelia stretched out in the darkness beside him, remaining almost out of reach.
"I told you they would turn on you." Naatos spoke as if half asleep. He blinked, his breaths long and slow. "Have they hurt you further?"
"I have a trial."
"That bodes well." Naatos closed his eyes again.
Amelia watched him, surprised at the calm. The sleepiness of the air reached her as well. "I'm not sure why I'm here."
"The connection between us is strengthening. Faster than I thought too. Unusual." Naatos released a long breath. "You must have been…"
The silence spread between them.
Amelia watched him. The urge to move closer—to actually be within holding distance and be held in return—rose, stronger than when they were in the dungeon. She turned her gaze downward again. "I got your notes about Ecekom. Thank you."
Naatos's eyes cracked open again as if he had forgotten she was present. "You should use this time to escape."
"I can't pick the lock on this door or shoot it off. It has a bar over it with locks fastening it shut. And…" Her voice trailed off.
"You want to see what they'll do."
Amelia drew her knees to her chest. She gave a slight nod. "I guess."
"If you were a Machat and you were drawing the possible futures, the likelihood of the king not exiling or executing you would be as faint as a pale-yellow line on a snow-white page."
Amelia stared past him, no longer seeing. "Maybe."
"Maybe," Naatos scoffed. "Maybe if I had lied to you and told you that we wouldn't have destroyed Libysha you would have listened to reason. I should have. It would have eased your conscience enough to let you do what was right."
Amelia bit her lip. "I'd have known."
"Stubborn vespyr." Naatos shook his head, but he reached out. His hand brushed her wrist. "I wish I could hate you. It'd make it easier to hold the anger instead of wishing I could hold you."
Ame
lia ducked her head into her arms. Warmth crept along her cheeks and the back of her neck. The urge to draw closer intensified, but she resisted. "It was easier when I just hated you."
"Foolish woman, falling in love with your enemy. Only keshpelts and baltosts do that. Thank all the good in the land beyond that I am not so foolish." Naatos smiled.
Amelia slid her hand over his. "I think they're going to try to kill you instead of send you to Ecekom, but I'll do everything I can to stop that from happening."
Mirth tugged Naatos's lips into a broader smile, though he did not show his teeth. "Then what reason have I to be concerned?"
"I know I'm not as good at you when it comes to killing—"
"You're so bad at it you can't even do it."
"For now."
"For now," Naatos scoffed, rousing a little more.
"Maybe there's a way to lift the curse." Amelia shrugged. She peeked up at him over her arms. "And then…I mean, really, I shouldn't even be thinking about that. There are more important things. Please, if I can help you, you can't take vengeance on Libysha."
"Help us?" Naatos cupped his hand along her cheek. "I expect nothing from you, viskaro. At this moment, you should pay more attention to your own situation."
"I'm in a holding chamber. Waiting to be judged. I don't think anything bad will happen to me before then. Vorec wants to ensure I am thoroughly humiliated. Which isn't as hard as it should be."
"Still…" Naatos raised himself up, resting on his right arm. His words slurred slightly as his eyes closed again. "Don't touch the necklace and think of me. You can't risk coming back here."
Amelia shrugged. "Not that I would anyway. But why is it an issue?"
Naatos's eyes had closed again. "It leaves you vulnerable. And you're wounded. You don't know how to…end…conversations. And even if you did…" A long pause followed before he forced the words out. "Might not wake until you're…healed." He drifted into a longer silence before rousing. "Or dead."
Amelia pulled his cloak up over his chest and tucked him in. "I'm really not sure how that bed showed up in AaQar's mind or I'd make you one," she said. "Just get better, all right? And seriously, don't kill the Libyshans. Once you get out, you and your brothers can fly away. I'll meet you, and we'll go to Ecekom. And when we're there, we'll find the Para bands, restore the Tue-Rahs, and then find a place where all of us can be happy."
Princess Reviled Page 26
