The Destroyer Book 4

by Michael-Scott Earle

  There was no movement in the courtyard.

  I approached the glowing sphere, picked it up and marveled as the glow grew brighter. The web network seemed to move in response to my touch.

  “That is yours,” the woman’s voice said from behind me. I turned around and braced for an attack, but none came. Instead, she stepped out of the shadow of the small tower and walked through the courtyard.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Your companions told us of your plan,” Vernine said. She adjusted the dark gray cloak she wore and then crossed her arms.

  “So you captured them?”

  “Of course. They almost made it to the keep. We spent many days looking for you in the castle, but you had disappeared. Once we caught up with Nia’s army and interrogated them we knew that we would eventually find you here."

  “You have been waiting for me?”

  “Yes.” Her lack of emotion wasn’t surprising to me now, though I did recall the passion she so unabashedly displayed when I had fucked her and Isslata for hours.

  “What do you intend now?” I set down the sphere so that my hands were free.

  “You’ve lost, Kaiyer. My empress has asked me to come here to present you with her parting gift. Take the Ovule, go to the Radicle in the Teeth Mountains, and leave this world. You belong with your own kin and deserve the fate they have in store for you.” In the strange yellow light from the Ovule, Vernine’s pale, ashen skin and placid face made her look like a corpse.

  “Where is this Radicle?” I didn’t really care about the answer but it was the easiest question I could come up with while my brain scrambled for a plan.

  “We don’t know yet. I’m sure you will find it after a few weeks of searching. Take the Ovule.”

  “Did you come alone?”

  “No.” She gestured behind me and I turned my head slightly. On the distant wall I perceived the movement of a few dozen shapes. They were about two hundred yards away from me, so I doubted they would be able to hit me with arrows if I ran.

  “I am surprised that you didn’t bring Isslata.”

  “You are trying to make me angry,” she seethed the words. “The empress has been very generous and you choose to mock Isslata’s death.”

  “Isslata is dead?” The news struck me in the stomach like one of Thayer’s kicks. I did not believe I had any feelings for the woman, but the clench of my gut told me otherwise.

  Vernine opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. She tilted her head slightly and examined me for a few seconds.

  “By your hand,” she finally said.

  “I don’t remember—” My voice caught in my throat as a tidal wave of images crashed into my head and drove me dizzy.

  I remembered the halls of the castle, my friends leaving through a hidden passage in the wall. Isslata stopped me in the hallway and demanded my surrender.

  Then the battle unfolded in my mind.

  Her guards had been skilled, quick, and deadly. One by one I killed them while giving up some ground and moving deeper into the castle. Finally, the golden Elven and I were the only ones left. She might have actually killed me. Her attacks were a clever mix of wild strikes, elegant sweeps, and precise stabs. By then my weapons had been reduced to notched saw blades, and one shattered when she blocked it with her decoratively-etched sword. Neither of us expected the weapon to snap, but I was quicker to react and slammed the remaining part of the blade into her chest.

  “May the Dead Gods damn you, O’Baarni! We could have had so much together,” she whispered into my ear with a blood-soaked voice as I laid her gently on the ground.

  “I am sorry,” I remembered saying to her. I meant it. Then I closed her eyelids, grabbed replacement swords from the guards I had killed, and moved to find Jessmei.

  The princess was in the kitchen. We went out into the courtyard, right into the empress’s trap.

  Then my memories stopped making sense.

  “I’m having problems remembering,” I said to Vernine while my brain struggled to understand the rest of my memory. I wore my skull-emblazoned armor. The images of Elvens blurred with images of my fellow O’Baarni and then morphed into images of other beings I did not recognize who wore armor I had never seen.

  “She was important to our people, more so than you can probably imagine. Take the Ovule and leave this world, Kaiyer.”

  “No!” I spat out. My skull started to hurt again, the ache that I was all too familiar with.

  “Don’t be a fool. I have more than thirty warriors here.” My head swam with more recollections. It almost felt like there were two sets of concurrent memories in my mind. Then there were three. The pain in my head was unbearable. My vision grew dark. I was either going to faint or smash my skull against the rock of the courtyard to end the agony. I searched for something in my past to stabilize the waves of pain and confusion, to give me shelter amidst the torment of death I had inflicted, loves I had betrayed, people I had destroyed.

  Then I found it. Something to ground and focus my life around.

  The anguish disappeared, replaced with hope.

  “Take me back to the empress. I want something else from her.”

  “No.” Vernine crossed her arms. In the starlight I saw her glance over to the warriors she had stationed on the wall. I heard a set of boots move in our direction, but it didn’t concern me now.

  “Then we don’t have much else to discuss. I reject her offer. I will not be leaving this world.”

  “Then you will die here.” Vernine’s hand moved to her sword hilt. The pewter-haired Elven’s voice reminded me of Isslata’s before her guards battled me. The tone convinced me that she would allow me to change my mind. She wanted me to change it. She did not want to kill me, neither had Isslata.

  “You couldn’t kill me at the castle. What makes you think you can kill me here?”

  “Because now we realize you are the Destroyer, and we know how to defeat you,” the newcomer’s words called out from the direction of the wall. I recognized the voice and felt a chill move down my spine. “Come and dance with me, Kaiyer. My sword hungers for your neck again. This time you will not return from the dead.” The moons’ light caught on Fehalda’s white hair and pale skin. In her dark black armor, she looked like a ghost.

  Bowstrings twanged in unison and I jumped back, twisting in the air and praying that none of the arrows found their mark. I landed next to a stone bench which provided me cover from the archers but was exposed to the advancing sprint of Fehalda and Vernine. I took another gamble and leapt over the bench, dashing toward the switchback that led from the keep to the city at the foot of the mountains. Another set of bowstrings twanged and dozens of arrows bounced around me like missed rain drops.

  I rounded the corner of one tower and skidded to a halt. I was safe from the arrows here, but a new problem presented itself. The gates to the fortress were still locked of course, but the gate house exit I planned on using to escape was now guarded by the shadows of dozens of Elven archers. Nadea's keep had become the perfect prison and I had stumbled into it like a fool.

  The archers at the gate were ready for me and this time a few arrows did find their marks.

  Chapter 9-Iolarathe

  “Enter,” I shouted after the knock sounded on the door of my suite. Relyara walked in and smiled before bowing briefly. As usual, her elaborate dress was impeccably clean and her hair was styled perfectly.

  “Your half-brother has arrived, Mistress. Do you wish to receive him here?”

  “Yes, that will be fine. Have food brought.”

  “Your suitors and maidens are also downstairs in the lobby. Do you wish for them to join you both for breakfast?”

  “No. They can wait for my morning ride to begin.” My half-sibling would carry news from my mother’s land and communication from my contacts there. I had no desire to introduce him before I received this information.

  “Very well. I will bring him up.” I turned back to my mirror and gestured
to one of my half dozen servants to finish my hair. They knew that I would dismiss them once my brother arrived, so they quickly finished and cleaned up the tools they had used to dress and groom me. I heard the door to my suite open and then Relyara’s hushed instructions. Footsteps sounded across the floor of my foyer and I turned to see my brother when he walked into my bedroom.

  “Sister! It is quite good to see you again!” Grednil’s scent was just as I recalled: burnt tobacco, layered with dust and horseshit from his long journey here. He looked the same, with his long onyx hair and light amber eyes. His features were the opposite of my sister Nyarathe, but they were both attractive.

  “I reciprocate the emotions, Brother.” I linked fingers with him briefly and we nodded to each other. He wore the red and muted yellow colors of my mother’s tribe, but the leather garments were dusty from the weeks of travel he endured to reach my father’s lands. “Please sit with me in my receiving room. Breakfast will be brought and you can tell me what passes for news in the Jientalist lands.” Grednil and I were never close. In fact, I thought him to be only a few steps above the most idiotic of my mother’s people. But he was loyal to Nyarathe, and my sister was the only individual I felt that I could trust.

  “Ahhh, Sister. It pains me to think you only care for the news I bring and not for my personal feelings.” He laughed and took a seat at the table. I sat across from him and my servants poured glasses of water.

  “I did offer you breakfast; most of the time when someone has information I want I just torture them until they give it to me.” I smiled at him and glanced over his shoulder as Relyara and three other servants brought in large silver trays.

  “This is true. Should I take this to mean that you’ve learned some manners while you’ve been living out in the country?” He laughed again and I smiled to keep myself from crushing my crystal glass of water into his face. Grednil teased to show affection and he was too stupid to realize I didn’t care for it. I hated it.

  Relyara set her tray down between us and made hand gestures to the other servants that instructed their placement of their trays. Once the platters were placed the lids were pulled to present an ample breakfast of eggs, ham, beef, yogurt, sweet cakes, and orange fruit. There was enough food to feed a dozen people. I guessed that Relyara must have been trying to impress my half-brother with the display.

  “They feed you well here, Sister. I haven’t seen a meal like this since you left. Perhaps the Western Tribes aren’t as barbaric as I assumed.” The six servants stationed in my room and the three that accompanied Relyara converged on the table. Their hands moved with a fluid efficiency and poured each of us tea, coffee, juice, and buttered a few of the sweet rolls within seconds. Grednil’s eyes opened wide at the presentation of their silent skills and let out a slow whistle when they had finished putting the meal on our plates.

  “Impressive. No human slaves?”

  “No. I cannot stand the scent of them. We have some in the stables next to the house but I avoid the other places in the estate where they work.” I turned to Relyara and nodded to her. The woman made another gesture with her hands and my servants glided out the door. After they had left, she sat in a leather chair in the corner of the room and picked up some embroidering while she listened to our conversation.

  My brother and I ate in silence for a few minutes. His appetite confirmed the report about his journey here.

  “How were your travels? Uneventful?” I asked to see if he still lied with the same predictable pattern. His caravan had been attacked the first week of their travels by the Trealk Tribe and they had lost a quarter of their warriors.

  “We had a small issue outside of the Jientalist lands, nothing that I couldn’t handle.” I nodded and confirmed the brief scent of his half-truth. I would need to determine why my mother sent him. I already had some theories.

  “Do you bring any written word?” I pushed back my plate and drank from the cup of buttered coffee.

  “Of course I do, dear Sister. I would have hoped that you would be interested in the latest spoken word I bring as well.” He sighed heavily and reached into his coat pocket, producing a bundle of letters wrapped in cream-colored silk cording. He tossed the stack to me casually.

  “I am interested in that as well. What is the news?” He probably couldn’t smell my own lie. At one time I cared about the various political skirmishes of my mother’s people. I would have planned with Nyarathe and we would have extorted or positioned ourselves to gain favors. Now I only partially listened to his endless drivel. Fortunately, Grednil loved the sound of his own voice and didn’t seem to notice my lack of attention. The real information would be contained in the letters that rested in my lap; I just needed a few hours tonight to sort through them.

  “Mistress, I am sorry to interrupt.” Relyara approached the table from behind me. She must have realized I desired a break.

  “My Mistress has companions waiting for her below. Perhaps you wish to freshen up from your travels and then join them for their daily activities?”

  “Companions? Does my sister have another entourage of suitors?” Grednil raised an eyebrow at me and his scent switched from a bitter hop annoyance to honeysuckle in a flash.

  “Of course. That is my purpose here. I also have a following of adoring females that might be interested in meeting my half-brother.” I smiled at him.

  “Well then, I guess I should bathe and then meet them. Are you still riding?”

  “No. I’ve been busy with other projects here.” I tried to hide the longing from my voice and scent but I probably failed. The last two years since my arrival had been quite tiresome. I had thought that my father’s elders would be easy to manipulate, but they had all proven more difficult than expected. There had been several assassination attempts that I had to investigate. One or more of the elders wished me dead, and while I had some guesses as to who they were, it was too early to make a move.

  It didn’t help that I was constantly being berated by my father and the elders to breed as soon as possible with the dozens of suitors that had arrived to lay claim to my reproductive system. I longed to ride again, but I feared once I felt the freedom that being atop a horse gave me I would continue past the gates and never return.

  Just as I forced most of the suitors to leave.

  “And what of your art? Are you still painting? I recall you had moved to charcoal works before you left. Sister still has the drawing you did of her hanging in her room.”

  “No. No painting. I have been focusing instead on the martial arts. Sword and polearm training, as well as archery.”

  “I can’t imagine that these people have anything to teach you.” He stood up from the table and cleaned his mouth with a cloth napkin.

  “It is a way to pass the time.” I shrugged my shoulders. I had been pleasantly surprised by the trainers my father employed. My martial skills had always been excellent, but the fear of assassination had added an extra sense of urgency to my training that had never been present when I lived in my mother’s lands. Riding and painting had been replaced by the unfortunately necessary task of perfecting the art of fighting for my life.

  “Where shall I room? I can freshen up in the next quarter of an hour if you will wait for me?”

  “Relyara will take you there. I will wait.” I nodded to the beautiful woman, but she was already directing him out of my suite with her subtle, elegant gestures.

  When he left I sorted through the stack of letters. Most of them were garbage: notes from previous suitors or others who adored me. There might be small political insights to gain from reading them, but I doubted it would be worth my time. I pulled out the letters from my mother and sister. I opened my mother’s first.

  Daughter,

  I am not surprised by your last letter. You have brought this upon yourself with your brash and irrational resistance to our customs. We have spoken of this so often I tired of hearing the same words come from my mouth, knowing they would be ignored. Now I tire o
f writing them. I still do not understand your resistance. Had you performed your duty to our tribe and race you would not have been exiled to your father’s lands.

  I expect a letter informing me of your pregnancy, until then do not waste my time with useless communication.

  - Jientalist

  “Fuck her!” The paper burst into flames in my hand instantly. I crushed the black page into my fist and the pain of the fire scorching my palm distracted me from the numbness in my chest. Of course she wouldn’t care about the attempts on my life. She was rid of me, and since I had not chosen to breed with a member of her tribe my value to her had ended. If I died she would be relieved of the burden and the shame of it would be on my father’s family instead of her own.

  The scent of my own skin burning focused my mind here and I threw the remnants of the letter to the floor in a spray of black ash.

  I opened Nyarathe’s letter and read the delicate script. Her handwriting was much like mine. I wondered if this was because we grew up with the same instructors, or because of some genetic similarity. The words were misplaced, misspelled, and tangled like the scents of three different kitchens mingling. Most wouldn’t be able to understand what she wrote beyond the few words of love and encouragement the correspondence contained.

  It was code of course, a language only the two of us shared so that we could communicate in secret. Reading it came easy to me and after many years of practice I no longer required a separate piece of parchment to translate.

  Iolarathe,

  Mother is furious that your father hasn’t made any progress with you. As you know, she made a commitment to the Fretil Tribe that either you or your offspring would mate with one of them in exchange for the Thorial ore trade agreement. Your father committed your first set of offspring to her but he hasn’t delivered on his promise.

  As foolish as it seems to be making these negotiations over reproductive organs neither party has any control over, the end result is that our mother and your father are in debt to these tribes, and your delays are adding stress to their trade agreements. There is little love between your parents, but I know they have been communicating with each other since you arrived there. Soon they will find a way to force a suitor upon you. If you make a choice, you will have at least that amount of control over your fate.