Moroda (World of Linaria)

by L. L. McNeil

  ‘You have no idea, Ro. This is amazing! What a palace!’

  They hesitated as they approached a wide table at the head of the room: the royal table. She recognised Elafion sat looking rather uncomfortable as he drank heavily from a goblet of wine. Other Ittallan sat beside him, Council members, she assumed, though she did not recognise their faces. Sapora sat in the middle of the table. He was listening to a Council member speak to him, but Moroda could tell his focus was elsewhere. She shivered a little as their escort announced their arrival.

  Sapora lifted his gaze to meet Moroda’s, and he blinked slowly. ‘Sister, this is Morgen, of the Imperial Guard, and Eryn and Moroda—Goldstones.’ He did not wait for a response, and instead resumed conversation with the woman beside him. They were immediately directed to four empty spaces several seats to Sapora’s right, and the three of them sat down together. Wine was poured immediately into their waiting goblets, and they were then left alone to enjoy the hubbub of noise and activity.

  ‘Not much of an introduction from the prince!’ Morgen huffed. ‘After all we’ve been through!’

  ‘He’s playing the part well,’ Moroda said. ‘Was that Isa beside him?’

  ‘I don’t know, I haven’t seen the princess before,’ Eryn replied. ‘Must’ve been, though. He said “sister,” didn’t he?’

  Moroda sighed and leaned back in her chair, happy to be warm and comfortable. They saw Ittallan guests and servants alike bustle around, drinking wine and water, and speak freely. News they were being joined by Prince Sapora had spread throughout the palace, and Moroda could see everyone was on their best behaviour.

  ‘You’d think they were all trying to impress him.’ Eryn giggled, as the fifth pair of Ittallan approached the royal table to greet Sapora.

  ‘Can’t think why they’d want to be in his good books.’ Morgen tutted.

  As the music changed to something softer, the food was served. It was exquisite, as befitting a royal banquet, and the hall came alive with the music of the piano and strings, drums and singers. It was nothing like the incredible magical essence of the Berel music, Moroda had to admit, but it was pleasant to the ears and went well with the food.

  ‘Ro, this is amazing.’ Eryn said, resting her fork on the side of her dish. They had eaten well in their youth, but the richness of the meats, variety of vegetables, and depth of flavour in the sauces was beyond anything either of them had tasted. Moroda and Eryn both cleared their plates, though Morgen picked at his food, claiming an upset stomach.

  ‘Morgen, it’s okay to say if you don’t like it,’ Eryn said, leaning forward past Moroda.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Really. You’re not here to prove anything to anyone.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yeah.’ Morgen reached forward for a slice of bread with a thick crust, and chewed on it.

  Eryn smiled at Moroda, but didn’t press him.

  The second, third, and fourth courses passed by in similar fashion, and it was only at dessert—a soft sponge filled with sweet cream and berries—that Morgen’s enthusiasm returned, wolfing down his own plate and finishing Eryn and Moroda’s too.

  ‘I suppose something is better than nothing.’ Moroda giggled. She had kept half an eye on Sapora for most of the night, and when she spied the raven entering the ballroom shortly after dessert, she tugged on her sister’s sleeve.

  *

  ‘My prince, are you ready?’

  Sapora glanced up and saw the raven was back, hovering in front of the table, almost whimpering as he waited for a response. He turned to his left, where Isa was sat. She wore a grey-blue dress adorned with topaz and amber to match the bright yellow of her eyes. ‘Sister?’

  Isa looked up from her half-eaten plate, eyes darting to the raven then back to Sapora. ‘It is time already?’

  ‘If you are ready, then yes, indeed.’ The raven said.

  Isa glanced down the length of their table; she saw nothing but swans and peacocks pruning, showing off and boasting to one another. Sapora’s invited guests stood out like a sore thumb. ‘I am ready,’ she said.

  ‘I shall inform the musicians.’ The raven said, shuffling back across the floor to the orchestra on the other side of the great ballroom.

  Isa stood from her chair and walked around the table. She stepped out onto the golden-marble floor—so well-cleaned it held an almost mirror-like quality—her silks skimming the ground with each step. A thin length of fabric draped from each wrist and connected to the back of her dress, billowing out behind her.

  Conversation quietened around the room as she crossed the expanse of the floor, her shoes making the quietest of taps as she took each step.

  Moroda watched Sapora, garbed in a dark blue coat and tails, as he stood by the edge of the floor, waiting for Isa to take position. She swallowed the last of her wine and placed the empty goblet on the table.

  Sapora stepped into the open space, paused, and then took another few steps. He was silent as he slowly and pointedly made his way across, every eye in the hall watching as he moved. Moroda shivered, a little of her fear of him returning. Though this was an evening of entertainment, she couldn’t help but think Sapora looked like he was stalking his prey as he approached Isa.

  The princess raised a gloved hand as he drew close, watching him, determined. She ignored the many Ittallan looking up at her from the surrounding tables, and watched nothing but him.

  Sapora placed one hand on the small of her back and the other in her left hand, and they held their position for a long moment. The pianist began to play, and the two began to dance.

  Moroda watched, fascinated, as they hardly touched one another, Isa’s skirts wheeling with her motion as though she had a pair of wings. The strings joined the piano, and Sapora and Isa waltzed across the marble floor in exaggerated movements, slightly facing away from one another. Their steps were quick and light, almost completely silent. Practiced and precise. Two hunters dancing around one another rather than with one another.

  To her left and right, Ittallan rose from their tables and stepped onto the ballroom floor, joining the dance. Silks and tails span as the dancers moved, jewels sparkled as the light of the chandeliers dimmed and the music rose.

  ‘Shall we dance, too?’ Eryn asked.

  ‘Dance?’ Morgen spluttered. ‘I… I don’t know…’ ‘Why not? We’re dressed for it. We’re invited guests.’

  Tables emptied around them as half the hall joined the waltz. People changed partners as the music shifted, men danced with men and women with women. Moroda longed to join them. It had been years since she had last danced, and she very much doubted the opportunity would come up again. It was another taste of her old life, another reminder of how things were, how they could have been, if it weren’t for Aciel.

  ‘Ro?’

  Moroda pursed her lips. Eryn wanted to. She had denied what Eryn wanted for the whole trip. Joining in with the dancing at a ball they had been invited to wasn’t wrong. It certainly wasn’t as reckless as sneaking aboard Jato’s airship.

  ‘Ryn.’ Moroda smiled, standing up and holding out a hand for her sister.

  The two joined the other Ittallan, fitting into step smoothly.

  Moroda watched as Eryn’s smile broadened, and then her sister giggled. They twirled with the music, and partners changed again.

  Her new partner was a man, taller than she by almost two feet, but his steps were incredibly light. He carried her with an easy strength, and Moroda felt she was hardly dancing at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eryn partnered with a woman in red, feathers billowing from her dress and shoes. Eryn continued to smile.

  Moroda was hardly aware of the change in music as partners changed again, and again, and again. Eryn laughed and smiled whenever she caught glimpses of her, and she found herself smiling, too. She was hardly aware of the time, either—had she been dancing for two minutes or twenty?

  She watched as Morgen stepped in, grinning as he timed his joining to partner with Eryn. His face was
red in the heat of the room—or embarrassment, perhaps—as he held Eryn’s arm and back stiffly, trying to keep up with the music while she whirled around him.

  Partners changed again, and she found herself with Isa. Her breath caught as she realised who held her arms. They span and stepped together, then away, and Moroda was very aware of how heavy her steps were in comparison to the princess’s.

  Isa leaned forward as they span, almost kissing her ear. ‘I’d leave now if I were you, little Ro.’

  Moroda’s eyes widened. Despite the glass of wine, she knew her senses had not dulled enough to have misheard Isa’s warning.

  Partners changed again, and she found herself back with Eryn. ‘The princess says we should leave.’

  ‘Why?’ Eryn leaned in, then twirled away from her as the strings grew louder. ‘It’s not finished yet!’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Moroda’s pulse increased, and she suddenly became aware of the sweat at her temples. ‘Something’s going to happen.’ She stared around the ballroom, and saw Sapora and Isa were again dancing together, turning faster and faster. She looked for Morgen, but in the crowd of colours and fabrics, she could not see him. The music continued to rise, and she stopped, holding Eryn still. ‘Ryn…’

  As the song reached a crescendo, light engulfed the prince and princess as they both transformed. Moroda’s jaw dropped as she saw the Varkain transform for the first time, and a ripple of similar shock and fear cascaded through the guests gathered in the hall. A grey-green cobra, more than thirty feet in length and with fangs almost as long as a sword, sat coiled on the floor, hood fanned out and green eyes gleaming. Flicking out his black forked tongue, Sapora raised himself from his coil to look about the room, his pupils little more than slits in the bright light.

  Isa joined Sapora’s hiss with her own, and bared her teeth, her tail lashing.

  The music and dancers had stopped, and Moroda saw the raven hurry away, hiding to the side of the musicians’ stage. She held Eryn’s hand tightly.

  ‘None can call him anything other than a true Varkain.’

  ‘For a half-breed, he’s certainly formidable.’

  ‘What’s this damned Varkain doing back in our court? He should go and rule those filthy tunnels of his and leave Val Sharis to the Ittallan. Hmph. Showing up here unannounced and trying to throw his weight around.’

  Moroda gulped. An Ittallan had spoken. One who was still seated: Elafion, who lead the Council of Val Sharis. She knew he did not think highly of Sapora, but the wine had clearly loosened his tongue. In the silent hall, his voice sounded like a bell.

  Sapora turned his head, his gaze locked onto him, and flicked out his tongue. Moroda took a step back, pulling Eryn with her. ‘Ryn…’

  In the next moment, Sapora had struck, his fangs so large they pierced through the Ittallan’s chest. Blood cascaded to the floor.

  ‘Ro…’ Eryn whimpered.

  ‘Don’t look, don’t look! We’re going now!’ Moroda said, turning away as panicked Ittallan screamed all around her. ‘Run!’

  ‘Ryn! Ro!’ Morgen called from the far side of the hall, catching Moroda’s attention. She darted forward, pulling Eryn along with her as they tried to navigate through and around the frightened Ittallan. In her peripheral vision, she saw the enormous snake strike again, and again, and again. By the time the three of them escaped the room, she’d counted seven strikes.

  ‘I want to get away from here!’ Eryn cried. ‘I want to go home!’

  ‘Hush, Ryn,’ Moroda said, frantically looking for a way to the doors. The two members of the Royal Guard stood at attention outside didn’t move at the cacophony of noise from within the ballroom. Moroda fought back tears as she looked up at them and their stoic expressions. ‘We can’t stay here. We have to go.’

  ‘But where? How? I don’t know where Amarah is!’ Morgen said.

  ‘Anywhere! Anywhere but here! I want to get out!’ Eryn cried. ‘Please! I can’t stand this killing!’

  Moroda squeezed Eryn’s shoulders. ‘Let’s get out of the palace.’

  Morgen winced at Eryn’s tears, but nodded. ‘Alright, follow me. Let’s find Kohl and get out of here, now.’

  *

  ‘Please, settle everyone, settle. The floor will be open again momentarily.’ The raven called, signalling the musicians to start once again as brother and sister returned to their alternate forms.

  The corpses had been removed and servants worked to clean the blood spilled on the floor and walls, hunkering down to keep out of sight. Sapora paid close attention to those who hadn’t screamed, run, or tried drawing a weapon in defence against his fangs. He knew who would remain loyal to him, or at least stay fearful enough to not threaten his authority. His act of brutal strength had shown the many doubters he was not only serious about his throne, but ready and willing to squash any rumours about his perceived mixed-blood weakness.

  By the time he and Isa had returned to the royal table, the ballroom was three quarters full. He smirked as several pairs returned to the floor in a display of loyalty, continuing the dance and resuming the evening as though nothing had happened. He knew their fear of the Varkain had been refreshed, and would keep them in check so long as he remained in Val Sharis.

  ‘Not long to go now. The snows have started,’ Sapora said, lifting his glass to his lips as he spoke.

  ‘As long as Aciel doesn’t get to us first,’ Isa sighed. ‘The fodder might be cowering before you, but you can’t scare him with your transformation.’

  ‘I will not rule a ruin, sister. You will be fine with your fleet and the Royal Guard if he is foolhardy enough to attack. I’ve not let you down before. I do not intend to start.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The air was crisp and snow silently fell as Moroda, Eryn, and Morgen hurried through the wilds of Val Sharis on horseback. They’d left Taban Yul at Eryn’s behest, and Morgen had secured them three strong horses from his colleagues in the guard. He’d been promised they knew the terrain well and wouldn’t lead them astray. Moroda had not wanted to leave in such haste, but Eryn had panicked and wanted to get away from Sapora’s sudden savagery.

  Moroda couldn’t blame her, and she kept thinking to Princess Isa’s words. The nickname she called her by seemed taunting, but the warning was real enough. Had she wanted to spare them from Sapora’s wrath? Had he chosen to attack them, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Or was she trying to protect them from the gruesome sight, perhaps? Moroda couldn’t be sure.

  Kohl kept ahead, staying on the wing. The Arillian’s emotions seemed mixed, and he was quieter than ever, but Moroda’s priority was Eryn’s safety and security. She could deal with whatever mood he was in later.

  Eryn wanted to get as far away from the palace as possible, and when that brought them to the city outskirts, she had charged on. Evening gowns were not the most practical of clothes to wear in the snow on the back of a horse, but they’d had no time to change. Thankfully the royal guard had offered them some thick blankets to wrap around themselves as they rode, but Moroda was more than a little uncomfortable after half an hour of forced pace.

  Eryn pushed the horses to canter as often as possible, and Moroda had asked her to slow down several times—especially where the path narrowed as they travelled through the forest surrounding Taban Yul—but it was only when a small brook crossed their path did Eryn finally stop.

  ‘Ryn,’ Moroda called, reining up and sliding off her horse so it could drink. She hurried over to her sister. ‘There, there, it’s okay. We’re far away now. You can’t even see the city anymore.’

  ‘Ro…’

  Moroda stepped forward and took Eryn’s hand, helping her down from her horse and embracing her in a hug, blanket and all. ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry. I know you wanted to get away. Sapora isn’t here.’

  The cold around them intensified with Kohl’s presence.

  Every step or turn he made sent a breath of cold air in every direction, and Moroda shivered. They were stood o
n a well-used path, which followed the natural hollow of the trees. The brook was only three or four paces wide, shallow and fast flowing. She could no longer hear or see the vast city of Taban Yul, and the trees thinned as they continued along the pathway. She still had the ereven sphere, and took it from her pocket to warm her hands.

  ‘You okay, Ryn?’ Morgen asked, stepping forward and clambering off his own horse. ‘I know it was horrible for you back there. Goes to show you can’t trust a Varkain! Don’t know what he was thinking. The Royal Guard all kept quiet and didn’t do a thing!

  A planned massacre!’

  Eryn sniffled and buried her face in her blanket for a moment.

  Moroda rubbed her shoulders, wondering how to lift her sister’s spirits, and thought back to the dancing. Eryn was happy, then. Happier than she’d been in ages. Moroda could hardly remember the last time she laughed so much. But none of them had known the night was to end in a blood bath. She didn’t understand Sapora—what he wanted or why he behaved as he did. Kohl had gone some way to explaining his actions, but his senseless killing sickened her. Did he have to show his strength over the Ittallan so violently? And Isa, the princess, she hadn’t joined in, had she? They had left before they could see the entire macabre act. In the little she had gleaned of the princess, she and Sapora shared many similarities, and Moroda knew she was one to be wary of, too.

  Moroda touched the ring on her finger, a habit she had developed, and frowned.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ro.’ Eryn sniffed, lifting the blanket from her face. Her eyes were red and cheeks puffy.

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Ryn! Please! You’ve done nothing wrong. I wanted to get away, too.’

  Eryn sniffed again and bundled her hands up in the blanket around her. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘North of Taban Yul,’ Kohl said. ‘If we keep on this course, we’ll be heading for the Feor Mountains. I don’t know the lie of the land past that. There may be villages on the way.’

  ‘We should keep going, then,’ Moroda said.

  ‘You don’t mean that? It’s the middle of the night. It’s snowing!’