Angel of Darkness Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Ah, look at this one." A thin pale slaver with intricately-braided red hair shoved his calloused fingers into Xair's mouth. "Good solid teeth, some lean muscles, and a sound body. Throw him in the cart with the females. He will be useful. Kill the other males. We have no use for them. With all the others back on the farm, adding more would only be asking for them to rise up. This one will be our breeder, as long as he follows orders. It's your lucky day, rune-skin."

  Xair was thrown into the wagon where his wrists were immediately encircled with golden chains that were in turn wrapped securely around the bars of the wagon. The bolas around his ankles were removed and replaced with a length of heavy iron chain then locked in place. He heard a commotion happening behind him and some of the women started weeping. With all his strength, he managed to turn himself around to look out through the thick iron bars.

  The elders in their robes, Zilon, and all the other men were lined up in a row, their wrists and ankles caught in enchanted golden shackles to prevent them from moving or using their magic. They stared down at the ground, as if they knew exactly what fate had in store for them. Bred to be perfect and always told of their immortality, it was surreal to be faced with the end of it all. Death for a Ka'taylin was something of nightmares, a nightmare that they woke up from and laughed because they knew it wasn't possible. But Xair knew the truth, the ugly brutal truth. With enough trauma, even a Ka'taylin could not recover. Even the seemingly eternal Holy Angels had their end if it was delivered with enough force.

  Xair clutched onto the iron bars as he watched through blurry eyes. Those men were his people, his friends, long-lost family members. He had just been reunited with them, only to have them ripped away from him. Above it all, he felt shame. It was an all-encompassing shame that he was their sultan, their leader, but he was helpless to do anything to save them.

  The six slavers stepped up behind the bound Ka'taylins and reached around to their waists. They drew the purple glass daggers from the men's belts and grinned. The slavers were smiling. They grabbed the first six Ka'taylin men by their hair and pulled their heads back roughly to expose their necks.

  Xair's heart was racing in his chest as he watched them. How did the slavers know about the sacred daggers? Those glass blades were bestowed upon infant Ka'taylin males at birth and could kill nearly anything. When those glass blades were pressed against their necks, Xair screamed out with all his anger and pleading. "No!"

  The men made no sound as the blood gushed from the wounds and splattered into the sand. The dark red spread around them in the thirsty ground that drank it quickly like it was life-giving rain. The bodies collapsed to the ground and remained there, motionless, as their blood soaked into their clothes. The slavers pocketed the knives then moved down the line to the next six victims.

  Xair locked eyes with Zilon. All he could do was watch in horror as Zilon's dagger was drawn then brought up to his neck. Then he heard it, those ancient Ka'taylin words that he would never forgot.

  Just before the blade was dragged across his throat, Zilon shouted out over the rolling sand dunes. "Axin kul'in amerit. D'aeshi ti-ilum. Kori'vine'an orn akive'n."

  Xair gasped. "Zilon, no!"

  Zilon only grinned darkly. "Burn in hell, Xair Korvin. I'll be waiting for you!"

  * * *

  After a quick bath and a change of clothes to remove the hardened sticky oatmeal from his body, Jeremiah had finished off six glasses of water before completing the little bit of research he needed to finish. It had taken him much less time to compile the information than what he had originally predicted. The only issue was that it had to be translated from ancient Ka'taylin to the common language. Even then, there were gaping holes that anyone who wasn't accustomed to dealing with both languages wouldn't have been able to figure out. Even the present day Ka'taylins like Xair couldn't read much of the ancient language. But Jeremiah had been dealing with souls of all races for many thousands of years in Purgatory. If there was anyone who knew at least a bit of it, it would have been him.

  He stuffed the papers and documents between the pages then tied the string around the leather-bound notebook. As he exited his tent, he slid it into the pocket of his grey canvas jacket. No one had given him a definitive answer on where Jaylen had gone, but something told Jeremiah the boy was not going to be found in the camp.

  Jeremiah checked the nearby forest, the fields, and the mountains in the distance. Nothing. Then he stopped when he thought about it for a minute. If the boy was grieving over losing his wife, perhaps he would have gone somewhere near the water, any water. The river. Jeremiah flew over a few rolling hills until he landed in a birch thicket below some grey bluffs near the winding river. Blood still glistened on the granite boulders where the water lapped against them. Jaylen's longsword was propped against a blood-stained boulder with its tip broken off. What happened? "Jaylen?"

  Jaylen was standing beside a birch tree where the white bark had been peeling away near the riverbank. His long leather coat was covered in a layer of fine grey dust, his light blond hair was a matted mess, and the soles of his knee-high boots were scuffed and torn in several places. Water dripped down the hem of his coat and his pants were obviously soaked. A rust-colored patch of dried blood spotted his left cheek where a swollen bruise was beginning to form underneath his eye.

  "Jaylen, are you all right? What are you doing so far out here without Zeriel? What happened to you?"

  Jaylen only crossed his arms and leaned against the tree. "Nothing."

  "Something obviously did. Were you attacked? Do I need to muster the troops and-"

  "I said nothing happened." Jaylen snapped, wiping the blood from his scratched hands onto his tunic. "That should be enough for you. Do not question me, Jeremiah. What do you need to tell me?"

  "I came to find you in order to deliver my report I have been tirelessly working on."

  "Had enough oatmeal?"

  Jeremiah blushed in embarrassment as he thought back to the oatmeal debacle and his stomach twisted into knots. "I would prefer to never see or smell oatmeal ever again. The angels have been vomiting all morning long. Right after we ran out of oatmeal, they got sick. It's awful."

  "And you wonder why I left camp for a bit?"

  Jeremiah watched the boy's attempts to change the subject, but he stared at his disheveled and obviously troubled king with nothing but pity. It was beyond obvious that something horrible had happened to Jaylen, but he wasn't going to get any of the answers he wanted, so he instead did what he came to do. Jeremiah reached into the deep pocket of his canvas coat and retrieved the small leather-bound book with the tattered cover. Various documents and papers stuck out of the edges. "I found out about your family, the ones you didn't already know about. I've been sorting through every ancestry file I could find in Wolfekin and Cilona. I have compiled this information for you. I must warn you, though . . . it's . . . complicated."

  Jaylen pushed the notebook away and scoffed. "I don't care. Just read it to me. Leave out the pointless research. Tell me what matters."

  Despite wanting to know what kind of scuffle had happened out here, Jeremiah instead turned his attention to the contents of his report. "You had a sister until recently."

  "How recently?"

  "She was executed for being a Wolfekin Inquisitor after the battle on Krenoa Island. She was your half-sister."

  "And you idiots killed her?" Jaylen's fist tightened as he rolled his eyes angrily. "Nice. Way to be awesome, Jeremiah."

  Jeremiah tilted his head curiously. "That would have made me awesome?"

  "It was sarcasm. If you're going to be around humans, learn about humans. You're ridiculous."

  "I . . . I see. But I was not the one who killed Victoria Corrifus. Nimiel and Zeriel were in charge of dealing with the prisoners."

  "Figures. Blundering idiots, the lot of you. Back to my sister. Who was her mother?" Jaylen asked.

  "An angel."

  The boy raised an eyebrow. "Another rogue female
angel who managed to survive Carvael's hatred? Give me a name and we'll hunt her down and bring her here safely."

  "There is no need for that, Jaylen. She is already here in the camp."

  "Then I shall go meet her."

  "You already have."

  "Excuse me?" Jaylen asked.

  "Victoria's mother is Brinxael."

  Jaylen finally turned to look at Jeremiah with a stunned look on his face. "Brinx? Zeriel's sister Brinx?"

  "The same."

  "So my father raped her as well?"

  "It could have been consensual."

  Jaylen shook his head. "No. Knowing Doran, nothing ever is. Hold on. This doesn't make sense. If Victoria was Brinx's child, she would have had wings."

  "They were cut off at birth."

  "What?"

  Jeremiah turned another page in the notebook. "Yes. I personally examined the body and did a thorough investigation. Apparently, Cael was not the first ishim. Victoria was. And before you go off to interrogate poor Brinx about this, don't. She doesn't remember any of it. Her mind was altered by Carvael so he could further control her. That's why she isn't fully there most of the time. She doesn't remember giving birth to Nimiel either."

  Jaylen's mouth fell open. He remained enraptured in stunned silence as he stared at Jeremiah.

  "I see you are confused. It is all explained quite clearly in this book if you would only read it."

  It was clear that Jaylen was stunned and fumbling for words. "I don't . . . what?"

  "Read the book to understand more."

  "No, no. You go ahead and tell me anything else I need to know. What about my mother?" Jaylen asked. "Did you find out anything about Corina Iryn?"

  "There is a reason you and Nimiel look so much alike."

  "Don't say it. I know where you're going with this and I refuse to believe it. Besides, I know that Doran is my biological father."

  "Not that, Jaylen. Your mother's father and Nimiel's father are the same man."

  At that, Jaylen doubled over in laughter. He was shaking as he laughed darkly for a long few minutes. Eventually, he trudged down to the edge of the water as he continued to chuckle. "This is perfect. This is beyond great. You know that? My entire life has been more of a lie than I even thought possible. I give up. I'm done trying to figure things out, because whenever I do, I'm left worse off than I was before I started."

  "I know it is a bit troubling, but-"

  "A bit troubling?" Jaylen asked, growing angry. "How would you feel if you grew up in the church, living your entire life to serve Sola and do the righteous thing . . . only to be told that your grandfather is a demon? I'm part demon. I've always been part demon."

  "Yes. That is why Gavin has had such interest in you. He is your grandfather. He's not proud of it, because Carvael manipulated him into sleeping with your mother's mother. That means that Nimiel is your uncle."

  "I just have to ask. Who was my mother's mother?"

  "Her name was Olin." Jeremiah trailed his finger down the page as he read from it. "She was only eleven when she had your mother as a result of a botched warlock ritual. She was the half-human daughter of a man named Cristof Treylan and archdemon by the name of Anclestia."

  Jaylen started laughing again before he dropped to his knees on the river rocks. He punched the rippling surface of the slow-moving water violently for a few minutes. Sweat was pouring down his reddened face and soaking through his black tunic underneath his coat.

  Jeremiah flipped through the book. "Corina exhibited only secondary demonic traits because the human side was dominant. I'm sure if you had been more aware, you would have been able to notice your mother's longer than average fingernails and the way her eyes sometimes glowed around a fire."

  Jaylen stopped punching the water. "Let me guess. Next you're going to tell me that somehow Trevor Treylan is related to the warlocks who performed that dark ritual."

  Jeremiah only raised an eyebrow and held out the open book. "Don't hate Trevor for what his family has done. He's a good man."

  "I can't believe this. You're mad. You must have been drinking when you did this research. It's useless. It doesn't make sense."

  "It makes perfect sense. It explains so much. This is why you are who you are. Because Gavin and Carvael are each one half of a whole soul, Carvael views you as belonging to him as well. Jaylen, there's a giant part of this that you are failing to comprehend. You have been bred for this, all of this. Carvael has been working quietly in the background for thousands of years to put his plan together. Guess who is in the middle of it? You. Carvael wanted you to join him before you became Finalis so he could have you destroy Heaven by his side. When you defied him, you made him your enemy instead of your best ally. Your friends and family have been hiding things from you."

  Jaylen stood up and wiped the mud from his pants. "Figures. Anything else life-changing that I need to be aware of?"

  "You are distantly part Ka'taylin."

  Jaylen glared at him.

  Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders. "What? It's true. Not pure Ka'taylin, but albino. That's why your soul segments are able to be placed in things more easily, like the one in your amulet. Parts of your body still hold those currents of power. I bet if you ask Trevor, he will tell you that your blood was useful not just because it used to be virgin blood. Just like the albino Ka'taylins, your body is coursing with arcane energy . . . albeit very, very weak from generations of dilution. Long story short, your Ka'taylin ancestors left Ka'tayl before Xair destroyed it."

  "This isn't funny."

  "It's not supposed to be funny, Jaylen. You wanted the truth, so I found it for you. You do not carry nearly enough Ka'taylin blood to matter. It just had a long-lasting effect on your magic. It's also why Finalis was able to merge with you so seamlessly. But it has been a thousand years or so since your Ka'taylin ancestor mated with a Northerner. You have nothing to worry about."

  Jaylen turned to start back up to camp when he stopped. "Damn it."

  "What now?"

  "Is it bad if I cannot find all of my soul segments?"

  It would have been very bad. Did something happen to his? "Yes, that would be a very dire situation."

  "Right."

  "Carvael has all of yours at this point, right?" Jeremiah asked, closing the book and winding the string around it once more. "Well, besides the one in the blue topaz amulet."

  "Yes. But I don't have the amulet anymore."

  "Excuse me?"

  Jaylen mumbled as he started back up the small slope to the field. "It's somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. I lost it when I fought against Divinus on the ship."

  "I see. We will figure something out."

  * * *

  As the wagon bounced roughly along the sand dunes through the dark golden sands of the desert, Xair sat among the other Ka'taylins. All of them were chained by their wrists to the iron bars of the wagon above their heads. The children cried constantly from dehydration and exhaustion, but they were left in the corner with no one allowed to comfort them. Ulon was among them, still undressed from earlier, but he wasn't alone. They had all been stripped and inspected for diseases or for anything the slavers disliked. Xair watched his brother closely, who was curled up on the floor of the wagon and quietly sobbing. The chains he was bound with were as thick as the little boy's arm. Xair should have been overwhelmed by fear, but he only felt shame. It was shame that he had once been the sultan, but was now reduced to less than cattle. At least the horses received water and food.

  It was nearly sixteen hours before the wagons came to stop in the middle of the night on a shoddily-constructed cobblestone road. Tall pine trees towered above the white marble and plaster two-story houses where Ka'taylin women dressed in long white cotton dresses were busy lighting lanterns in the windows. Some of them made their way down to the wagons where they lit the streetlamps so the slavers could bring in the new slaves. They worked with silent diligence, never complaining, never looking up, and never stopping. Xai
r noticed the glint of light bouncing off of the golden identification ring in the top part of the cartilage in their right ears. They were slaves, just as he was going to be.

  Beyond the pine trees in the immediate area and the few houses that created a square around a single well, not much could be seen in the darkness. A few swallows flitted through the cool air as hoards of insects swarmed the newly-lit streetlamps. There was an uneasiness here, one that Xair could instinctively feel. He had no idea what his new life might be like, but he did know one thing. He wasn't going to like it.

  Then everything began happening all at once. The backs of the wagons were swung open by slavers who grabbed the children, waking them up and bruising their delicate skin with their rough hands. The babies were bawling as the older ones called for their mothers to help them, to no avail. Some of the women pleaded with the slavers, but their words fell on uncaring ears.

  Ulon squealed as one of the slavers pulled him out of the wagon by his ankles. "Xair! No, don't take me away from my brother. I need him. Xair!"

  Xair could do nothing but cry out to him in return. "Ulon! Just be safe. Do whatever they tell you to do. Don't fight back. I will find you again, I promise. Be strong!"

  The women were next to leave the wagons, each one immediately stripped of her clothes and pushed towards one of the houses. One woman tried in vain to run after her child, but she tripped on the chains around her legs and fell into the mud. A slaver drew a pistol from his belt and fired twice. The woman never moved again.

  The slaver pointed his pistol at the other women. "Let that be a lesson to the lot of you. If you attempt to flee or disobey any of our orders, you will end up just like this piece of trash. We'll leave her body there for the buzzards to eat. Then each of you will come back out here in a few days to clean up the mess."