Black Crown FINAL Kobo

by Sarah Dalton

  One thing I can do with the aid of the Ember Stone is create water when there is none. Even in the heart of the Anadi Sands I create a fountain of water springing up through the sand. Treowe’s face lights up when he sees the water, but Mushtan frowns and warns me to be careful. The problem is—when I feel this powerful—it’s hard to be careful.

  What keeps me in check are the nightmares. Cas’s eyes haunt me. Sometimes I dream of Sasha with silver eyes, calling for help, trapped by a vortex of blood. I wake sweat-soaked and shaking. After a dream where I tried to claw my way out of the gateway alone, I leave my tent and sit by Mushtan, wondering how Ellen and the others are.

  “We will reach Jakani by nightfall tomorrow,” he says after a long silence.

  “Darkness will make it easier to enter,” I reply. “And I will enter alone.”

  “Yer will not.” Treowe sits up from his bed roll and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I’m coming with you.”

  I’m almost annoyed by his constant nobility. But if it will help Sasha, I am willing to try anything, so I agree.

  I take watch as the others sleep. Then, as the sun rises, we set off on the last day of our journey.

  Chapter Thirty-Three – The White Palace

  Mushtan was right. As night comes, we approach the outskirts of Jakani. I pat Adil’s shoulder as the city comes into view. The dusk light allows us some shadow to hide in, but still we hang back away from the city fires and gas lamps, and away from the eagle-eyed guards.

  “I can see the king’s men.” Treowe leans forward on his camel, pointing towards the northern entrance to Jakani. Around the mighty gates clusters an army.

  “There must be more than a hundred men,” Mushtan says. “Perhaps three hundred strong, with archers and spear wielders. They mean to slaughter us.”

  I have to stop myself from blurting out that I would have defeated them all with ease. The Ember Stone pulses with dark magic beneath my tunic, igniting something akin to arrogance that does not sit well with me. I try to ignore it.

  Mushtan notices my inner struggle. “Is it the Ember Stone, Hada-Ya?”

  “The sooner I can smash this thing into smithereens the better.”

  “After the king has been dealt with,” Treowe warns.

  “I’m not stupid,” I snap. Then I pull myself together and say. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself at the moment.”

  “You must hold it together if you are going to wield its power against the king,” Mushtan warns. “Wait until night. I will find the weakest point for you to get into Jakani unnoticed. You may need to use your magic to gain entrance.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And then you need to stick to the shadows. How are you going to get into the palace?”

  “Easily,” I say. “I will tell them who I am. The sultan knows I have the Ember Stone, he will let me in.”

  “How do yer know where Sasha is?” Treowe asks.

  “She told me,” I say. I try to explain about the soul tear when Treowe regards me with a furrowed brow. “Her soul came to me in my tent while her captors were asleep. They will want to negotiate with me. Sasha’s life in exchange for the Ember Stone. It’s the only thing that makes sense. And it’s where the king will be hiding. Mushtan, you must go to Allerton and get your family out of Jakani. Head north, but stay away from the king’s men. Allerton will find safe passage for you, and we will meet in the north.”

  “Very well, Hada-Ya. It has been a pleasure.”

  “Wait until we go,” I say, my voice choking more than I care to admit. “We wait until night.”

  It comes faster than I had imagined. One minute, the sky is bright with a purple-pink sunset, the next, the stars glitter through the darkness. To be safe, we wait longer, eating our fill from the last of our provisions, and ensuring our strength for the task ahead. Taking on the sultan and the king will not be easy. I have no intention of giving up the Ember Stone or allowing anything bad to happen to Sasha. I need to be careful. I need leverage.

  “What does the sultan hold dear among all things?” I ask Mushtan as we drop from our camels and begin our descent towards Jakani on foot.

  “He has a wife. But to be truthful, the sultan regards power and riches above all things. He is not as crazed as the king, but I suspect they are his deepest desires.”

  I nod, thinking about how I can make the sultan give up Sasha. My fingers find the Ember Stone beneath my tunic.

  Sneaking into Jakani is easy enough. It is an open city without too many guards on watch. We simply have to use the shadows to our advantage.

  I notice a few of the king’s men walking around the city, their swords tucked into their belts. They walk in twos or threes, with the sultan’s guards alongside.

  “Well, there’s the evidence that they’ve joined forces against yer,” Treowe says. “So much for the sultan’s loyalty.”

  “He did what was best for him, but also what seemed best for the Haedalands. Without Cas, there is only me, and history suggests the craft-born is easily controlled. It makes sense,” I reply.

  “Well I think you’re going to shake things up a bit. Change whatever it is ‘history suggests’,” Treowe says with a smile. “You’re not so easily controlled.”

  “No I suppose not.”

  “This is where I leave you, Hada-Ya,” Mushtan interrupts. “I must double back to my mansion and warn my family of the conflict.”

  I turn to face the man who has become something of a father figure to me, and someone I have grown to greatly respect. “I wish you well.”

  “As do I.” He catches me off guard with a hug. “This destiny is not so great that you cannot succeed. You can face the king and win. He is a weak man, and you are a powerful woman.” He smirks. “I know who I would bet on.”

  I return his smile, but there is a part of me that doubts his words. I don’t feel strong. The Ember Stone is taking hold of me piece by piece.

  I clasp forearms with Mushtan, and then he does the same with Treowe. When he leaves, we are alone in Jakani, and the shadows seem even darker.

  “We’d best find the palace,” I whisper.

  At night, the city of Jakani is strangely quiet. Even in Halts-Walden the tavern is often frequented until the early hours of the morning, and I have been told tales of how cities are full of drunken men and whores, but Jakani is different. There is a quiet buzz, but it comes from family homes where friends converse behind closed doors. Often I hear the sound of laughter or excited voices.

  “Do you think the people of Jakani realise there is a war coming?” I ask.

  “They will have seen the king’s men on the street,” he replies.

  Perhaps that is why people have taken to their houses rather than the taverns. Either way, it is good for us. It means we can slip through the streets unnoticed. I would hate to have to cause a scene in the middle of the city. No, I must retain my strength if I am to control the Ember Stone at the palace. That is my priority. Anything to ensure Sasha’s safety.

  Soon we have moved from the main streets, to a part of the city where houses are surrounded by yards and lawns. It seems strange to see lush green grass in this part of the world, but we are away from the Anadi Sands and approaching the southern strain of the River Sverne. The White Palace is easy to find. The domed roof stands higher than any other building in Jakani. It lies on the other side of a distributary from the river, splitting it away from the rest of the city. An intricate bridge stands between us and the sultan’s home, shining a golden white in the moonlight.

  “There are rumours that the Jakani use glitter made of real gold to mix with the paint they used for this bridge. They call it the bridge of sunlight. Even in the moonlight it mimics the golden rays of the sun,” Treowe whispers.

  It is beautiful, and it certainly does glitter as though touched by the sun. But my eyes are pulled away from the bridge towards the two guards blocking the way to the palace.

  “This is w
here I must tell them who I am. They will lead me straight into the palace,” I say, my pulse quickening with excitement and fear.

  “Then there’s no reason for us to hide then. Come on.” Treowe steps out of the shadows and I follow him as he steps onto the bridge.

  I cannot help but let my hand run along the bridge barrier, feeling the sleek smoothness of the paint, and watching the glitter brighten under the moon. It reminds me of Anta, and how I used to make his coat shine with the craft. Up ahead, the guards cross spears, blocking our way. They are tall, and dark-skinned, so that the whites of their eyes are vivid against the gloom of night. They wear belted tunics over traditional trousers, with daggers tucked into their belts. There is a small insignia on their tunic, when I examine it more closely, it appears to be in gold thread, and it depicts the famous dome of the palace. This is what the sultan’s guards look like. They stand taller than the king’s men. Their clothes are far finer. They give the impression that the sultan is far richer, and more powerful than the king.

  One of the guards eyeballs me and speaks in Jakani. He talks so fast that I struggle to understand, but catch the general meaning to be: what are you doing here? Who are you?

  “My name is Mae Waylander,” I say in the common tongue, my native language. I do not know enough Jakani to reply yet. “I am the craft-born and the keeper of the Ansarintante. I am here because the sultan has something of mine, and I want it back.”

  The guards glance at each other as though figuring out what I’ve just said. Then with a sing of metal, the spears uncross, and the guard on the right takes me by the elbow. I do not resist, I let him lead me across the bridge towards the palace.

  Even in the dark, the extravagance of the sultan is clear. There are two gold busts of beautiful women at the end of each bridge post. The bridge leads to a neat gravel path which splits the palace gardens in two. On either side of the lawn are two grand fountains depicting fierce warriors in the midst of battle emerging from the water. The marble of their scimitars is as sharp as any blade.

  The palace itself is a marvel of pillars, archways, and luxurious balconies. Marble steps lead up to the grand entrance, with a door half as big as the hut I grew up in. My eyes trail up the white front of the house, finding grand balconies under large windows. The domed roof glimmers in the moonlight, almost shimmering. The king might have power over all of Aegunlund, but the sultan has the riches.

  The guard leads me up the steps, jerking my arm so hard that my feet trip, and I almost fall forwards. One of the guards raps on the door with his spear. A small trapdoor opens to let us squeeze in. It’s not quite the dramatic entrance I was hoping for. As soon as we step inside, the Ember Stone grows cool against my skin. The warning sends ice into my blood, and I have to concentrate against the emitting dark power. I think of Cas to help control the ache. I cannot give into the darkness. There is an imminent threat. We are close to those who wish to remove the stone from me at any cost. Now I must keep hold of my wits.

  Inside the palace it is surprisingly dark, with ceilings so high you could stack two taverns with room to spare. Sparse lanterns create a dim, orange glow, but it is enough for me to see the grandeur of the hall. The walls are the same marble white, with tapestries of gold and red hanging from the walls. The floor is a mosaic of tiles as yellow as the desert surrounding Jakani. The grand hall stretches before us, but it is nothing compared to the next room we enter: the throne room. It sparkles with diamonds and gold set into the walls. My dirty feet trip over a floor that twinkles with rubies and sapphires. Light emanates from golden lanterns, and I turn my head to the ceiling, to see a colourful mosaic pattern continued into the room. At the top of the hall, the throne sits high up on a dais, with several steps leading to the golden chair. Five guards stand either side of these steps. The sight of them makes my stomach flip, but when I hear a growl, my blood runs cold. Two panthers sit chained to the dais of the throne. They bare their fangs and a ripple runs over their sleek coats. Treowe’s eyes widen at the sight of them.

  “Welcome, Hada-Ya.” The voice cuts through my terror, and my attention is torn from the big cats, towards the man sitting on the throne. The sultan. He wears a deep yellow robe, with delicate gold embroidery. The man seems very changed from the time I met him in Mushtan’s home. Now he is dressed in his finery, dripping with jewels; a ruby at his neck, sapphires on his fingers, diamonds in his crown. “This is your first visit to the finest palace in the kingdom, and yet it does not belong to the king. It belongs to me. Funny, isn’t it?”

  “No, not really.” I make no effort to flatter him. The days of negotiating for peace are over. “Not when you force your people into the mines. They make your riches and find your jewels. There’s nothing funny about their suffering.”

  The sultan’s smile fades, and is replaced with a sneer. “You should know better than anyone that some people are meant for greatness, and others are here to serve. I was born a sultan. I am chosen by the Gods to rule my people. I deserve the things I have worked for.”

  “You haven’t worked for anything,” I retort. “And now you are wasting my time. Where is Sasha?”

  “You flatter me with your kind words,” the sultan says sarcastically. He gestures to one of the guards with a nod of his head, and reclines back onto his throne.

  The guard disappears through a side door, and the Ember Stone turns very cold. My heart thumps. I cannot turn away from the open door. A few moments later, the same guard drags a girl back into the throne room. She thrashes against him, her mouth gagged and her hands tied. When the guard puts a knife to her throat, she is instantly still. Her blue eyes find mine. I swallow away a hard lump when I see the pure panic in her eyes. Sasha is always so cool and calm, and now her eyes are as wide as plates. I can see her shoulders trembling from half the room away.

  “Sasha!” I call, rushing towards her. The guard closest to me grasps me around the waist and stops me.

  “Do that again and I’ll have her throat slit,” the sultan says, a sneer crawling across his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-Four – The Darkness Comes

  “Let her go,” I say, gritting my teeth.

  “A deal can be struck,” the sultan replies, examining his fingernails as though in casual conversation with an acquaintance. Below him, the panthers snarl. “You have something I want.”

  “I could tear this entire palace to the ground.” The cold power of the Ember Stone flows into my veins. “I could kill you from here.”

  His guards advance a step, holding their spears high. I notice the sultan tense, and a shiver seems to pass through his body.

  “You cannot do any of that while I have your friend with a knife at her throat. Do you believe that yours powers are faster than my guard’s knife?”

  My eyes flit back to Sasha. The guard presses the point of the knife further into her flesh and a tiny trickle of blood runs down her neck.

  “No! Stop. I won’t use my powers. Just stop.” The cold power warms, and all I can see are Cas’s eyes as he fell into the gateway. I cannot lose another person I love.

  “Give me the Ansarintante,” the sultan says. His voice is almost a hiss, so laden with want, with desire.

  Sasha shakes her head at me. I can hear her shouting through the gag, but her words are muffled and incomprehensible. The sultan leans forward on his throne, his eyes wide and filled with desire.

  “Give it to me.” The urgency of the sultan’s voice makes my stomach roil. It sickens me to see how much he craves power.

  “Give me Sasha first,” I respond.

  “No, first the stone.” The sultan moves forward again. He takes a step down from the throne. He seems to move almost subconsciously, as though enchanted by the Ember Stone’s power. The gem is freezing cold against my skin. It warns me not to do this.

  Sasha shakes her head, but I cannot stop staring at the blood trickling down her neck. I have to save her. Where is the king? He has to be somewhere in the p
alace. This has to be a way of tricking me. There must be more to this.

  “As a show of good faith, remove her gag,” I say. “Otherwise you will not get the stone.”

  The sultan is on his feet, standing on the top step of the stairs leading to his throne. He waves an indifferent hand. “Fine. Do as she asks.”

  The guard yanks the rag from Sasha’s mouth.

  “Don’t do it,” she shouts. “Don’t give it to him.”

  “Where is the king?” I ask.

  “Kill her!” orders the sultan.

  “NO!” My hand moves out in front of me and I hit Sasha and the guards with a blast of wind, knocking them back. Sasha disentangles herself from his grip.

  “Then kill the boy,” the sultan commands.

  But before the guards can take Treowe, I stamp my foot, and the floor of the palace ripples like a wave, dropping everyone to their knees. I reach down and pull Treowe to his feet. Sasha jumps up. The three of us hurry away from the guards and the sultan, who has fallen back into his throne. But as we make our way to the door, there is a clanking sound, and the gnashing of teeth. I turn to see the two panthers sprinting our way.

  They leap into the air—teeth and claws bared—intent on ripping our throats out. The Ember Stone imbues me with cold power as I knock them back with the power of wind.

  “Come on!” I shout, urging Sasha and Treowe out of the palace.

  But when I turn back to my friends, my heart skips a beat.

  “Mae, don’t give up,” Sasha says in a strained voice.

  A brute of a man holds a knife to her throat. He lowers his chin and regards me with cold, opal eyes. The king.