“Ah, Morix, so good of you to join us,” Elzor said, as if he was inviting the old king to join him at the dinner table.
Morix glanced up, flashing Elzor a look with enough malice to level a city. Elzaria dismounted her merych, untying the rope from her saddle and pulling him onward, like an animal on a leash. With a hearty yank, she caused Morix to lose his balance. He fell forward, landing on his knees with a painful yelp.
“Easy, dear sister, easy,” Elzor cooed. “He can hardly help us if he's too winded to speak.”
Once again, Morix locked eyes with Elzor, his brow knitted in defiance, his grayish-brown hair matted and unkempt. “I will never help you, you traitorous braga,” he seethed before spitting on Elzor's boots.
“Such language,” Elzor said, unfazed. “I wouldn't think that a king as … respectable as you would know how to curse so well.”
In one motion, he stepped forward and cuffed Morix across the face with the back of his gauntleted hand. A gasp went up from the assembled crowd as Morix toppled to the dirt, rubbing his sore cheek. Elzaria just smiled.
“I am no traitor, old man,” Elzor continued. “I am not your subject. I am your conqueror.”
With some effort, Morix was able to regain a kneeling position, his eyes still ablaze. “I know all about you. Elzor. You're a deserter, and a coward, and a filthy little –”
Elzaria waved her hand, and blue sparks shot forth from her fingertips, striking Morix in the chest. His body shuddered and twitched, and he collapsed to the ground. His eyelids fluttered and his breath came in shallow, ragged pants. His tattered shirt began to smoke.
Just as it seemed that Morix was on the verge of death, Elzor nodded at his sister, who immediately released her hold on him. Morix began coughing and hacking as he sucked in a deep lungful of air.
“Pick him up,” Elzor sneered to two of his soldiers, who grabbed Morix by his elbows and hauled him to his feet, supporting the old king's sagging body between them. Elzor took a step forward, moving his face to within a few inches of his victim's.
“You are clever, old man. Perhaps you think your defiance will somehow inspire these people,” he waved his hand dismissively at the crowd, “to revolt. The thought … amuses me. But your oh-so-mighty army fell to mine in less than a day. Do you really believe these pathetic peasants will stand against me?”
A weak smile broke out on Morix's wounded face. “All tyrants fall, Elzor. Very soon, my allies will be united against you.”
Elzor chuckled, which then erupted into a raucous belly laugh. Morix just looked puzzled.
After his laughter subsided, Elzor straightened up again, affixing Morix with a steely gaze. “Perhaps you refer to your son Morak, whom you dispatched to rally aid from your neighbors in Darad and Imar.”
The blood drained from Morix's face.
Elzor backed up until he stood next to the metal chest, but he never took his eyes off Morix. “I regret to inform you, neither your son nor his sow of a wife made it past the borders of Agrus.” With a flourish, he used his foot to kick over the chest, its lid springing open as it upended, discharging its contents onto the ground in front of Morix.
The king's face froze in horror as two severed heads rolled to a stop directly in front of him. He had to choke back tears as he saw the dead eyes of his son and daughter-in-law staring back up at him. A chorus of screams rose from some of the assembled throng.
Morix closed his eyes, his tears mixing with the streaks of blood on his face. “In Arantha's name, I curse your every step, your every breath until the Great Veil claims you,” he sputtered.
“Enough!” Elzor grabbed the old king by the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet again and roughly turning him to face the school his soldiers had surrounded. “I'm sure you recognize this building.”
Morix didn't reply, though his eyes flashed recognition.
“This school is one of several scattered throughout the city. However, I am told that this particular school is special.”
“What do you –”
Elzor held up his hand, stopping the old king mid-sentence. “I have it on good authority that your granddaughter, Turalda, has, on your instructions, disguised herself as a commoner. And it just so happens that she is in this building right now.”
For the first time, a crack appeared in Morix's resolve. “What … what are you planning to do?”
Elzor laughed. “Your sense of smell has dulled with age, old man. If you were younger, you'd no doubt have detected the odor of napal grease coating every outer wall of this building.”
Morix gulped hard. “Napal?”
“That's right. Very useful stuff, as I'm sure you know. And highly flammable. All it takes is one little spark, and …” He directed the old man's attention to his sister, who turned her palms upward. As they watched, a tiny spark appeared, hovering in mid-air, which grew in size and intensity until it became a crackling ball of energy a foot in diameter. Elzaria moved her hands again, and the ball moved away from them, heading ominously toward the school.
“You can't!” Morix screamed. “There are defenseless women and children in there! What could you possibly want that would justify slaughtering innocents like this?”
Elzor held up his hand, and Elzaria stopped the ball's forward motion. It continued to hover a short distance away from the school building, as the assembled crowd held its collective breath. Moving his face only inches away from Morix, Elzor yelled, “What do I want? I want the Stone!”
“That's what this is about? You invade my home, massacre my citizens for a blagging rock?”
Elzor scowled. “Do not insult my intelligence, old man. I know far more about the Stone than you might think. I would wager I know more about it than even you.
“I find it curious that for centuries, rumors have abounded that the Stone exists within the walls of the Castle Tynal, seat of power of the region of Agrus … and yet, it would seem that in all that time, not a single Elystran has laid eyes on it. But given what I now know about the Stone, I can certainly see why you would keep it deep underground, behind a machinite door that is impervious even to Wielding.”
Morix's cheeks flushed, but he didn't respond.
Elzor took a menacing step forward, standing almost chest-to-chest with him. “That Stone, and two others just like it, are the keys to unimaginable power. I have invaded your home, and I will continue to massacre your citizens,” he gestured at the school, “if you do not tell me what I want to know.”
Elzaria smiled, and the crackling energy ball edged ever closer to the school, as if it was eager to begin a glorious conflagration.
“I must admit,” Elzor continued, “a hulking great door in the bowels of the castle is the best possible place to hide the Stone from prying eyes. But it will take weeks, if not months, to break into that room, and believe me, if I have to whip what's left of your citizenry to make that happen, I will do it. But in the interest of saving time–and lives–I will make you an offer. You answer me truthfully, and I will instruct my sister to spare the life of your granddaughter, and the other innocents inside that building. You refuse …” He pointed to the still-hovering energy ball, “… well, I think you can guess what will happen.”
Morix's breath became shallow, but he didn't avert his eyes from Elzor's. “What guarantee do I have that you'll keep your word?”
Elzor's jaw set in a firm line. “I swear on the soul of my mother, they will come to no harm if you cooperate.”
Morix stared deep into Elzor's face for several tense moments, and then exhaled, casting his eyes to the ground in defeat. “The Stone is there. Behind the door.”
“Have you seen it? With your own eyes?”
“Yes. It is one of the King's duties to confirm its concealment upon ascending to the throne.”
Elzor nodded. “Very good. Elzaria, proceed.”
“With pleasure, my liege,” she said.
Before Morix could utter an objection, she pushed her hands forward, an
d the energy ball splashed against the front door of the school. Within seconds, the fire spread around every wall of the building, sending great plumes of smoke up into the sky. From within, faint wails could be heard as its occupants became trapped by intense, searing heat.
The screams on the outside, however, were even louder and more terror-stricken. One woman, hysterical, broke through the line of guards and ran toward the school, screaming, “Hydar! Hydar!” She stopped short of the building, the heat too great for her to get any nearer. She fell to her knees, sobbing, as the school was engulfed in flame.
Morix turned back to Elzor, his face twisted in shock and disgust. “You … you swore … on your mother's soul …”
Elzor drew a small dagger from a sheath attached to his belt, the same dagger he used to slay the queen. “I'll let you in on a little secret: I never actually met her. From what Father told us, she was a whore of the lowest caliber. Isn't that right, Elzaria?”
Elzaria strode forward to stand at her brother's side. “'Tis indeed, my liege.”
“I am grateful for your help, old man,” Elzor whispered to his foe. “But I think it's time you were reunited with the rest of your family.” And with that, he quickly drew his dagger across Morix's throat in a deep slashing motion.
He and Elzaria took several steps back, as did the guards, as blood gushed from the king's neck. Morix continued to stare at his murderer, conveying an eternity of retribution with one single glance. Then his eyes clouded, his breathing ceased, and he crashed to the dusty ground.
Just then, the woman who had pushed through the line of guards stood up, white-hot rage marring her tear-streaked face. With a primal scream, she ran at Elzor, but Elzaria immediately called forth another surge of energy and struck the woman with it. She froze in mid-step, jerking and shuddering, before crashing to the ground right next to Morix's body. Several wisps of smoke curled upwards from her clothes as her breath faded away.
Turning away from the two corpses, Elzor addressed the crowd. “Hear me, all of you! Your rulers are dead. Your soldiers are dead. Your lives now belong to me.”
None in the crowd uttered a word. A few women were still sobbing into their hands.
He gestured at the burning school. The whimpers and screams from within had quieted, leaving only the crackle of fire as the wooden structure buckled and splintered. “If you wish to avoid any further … demonstrations such as this, you will do exactly as I say for the foreseeable future. If I catch a whiff of resistance from a single one of you, what's left of your family will die. If you are caught trying to flee the city, many, many lives will be lost. Do I make myself clear?”
They all just stared at him.
“Good. Now return to your homes. If and when we have need of your services, you will be duly informed.”
With still nary a word spoken, the crowd began to disperse. Several women had to be supported by others as they marched sullenly away from the scene of the day's tragedy.
Watching them go, Langon strode forward, addressing Elzor. “Do you think he was telling the truth, my liege?”
“For the sake of the citizens of Agrus, he'd better have been. Or I will tear this city down, inch by bloody inch.”
Chapter Twelve
K elia approached the Council Chamber, an open-air room with a view of the River Ix winding its way through the Plateau. The dwellings that comprised the village had been carved right into the rock, and most were connected via staircases, ramps or ladders. The thick rock of the Plateau that existed above the village provided shelter from any thundershowers that often marred the cold season, as well as any sandstorms the nearby desert couldn't contain during the dry season.
As Kelia entered the room, she noticed all three Council members were already present and seated.
Katura was the eldest, tall and thin, her curly gray hair hanging in knotted rings around her aged but serene face. She was the wisest woman Kelia had ever known, wiser in some regards to even Onara. In fact, many years before, Katura was one of Onara's teachers. An invaluable advisor to three different Protectresses, including Kelia, she was the only Councilor to possess a Wielding ability. She'd been the Ixtrayu's healer and apothecary for many years. In her dotage, however, those responsibilities passed to her daughter Lyala and her granddaughter Sershi.
Next to Katura was Eloni. She was almost a full head shorter than Katura, but her diminutive stature belied her strength. She was a master craftswoman and builder, and it was she who designed the irrigation system that allowed the Ixtrayu's orchards and vegetable patches to flourish. She used to spend hours entertaining children by singing ancient rhymes in her deep, rich voice, and playing on a wind instrument called an uska, another one of her inventions. Her short, dark hair bore streaks with gray, but her blue eyes still shone with fierce intelligence.
And on the right, round as a stone and about as cheerful as one, was Susarra. Once a huntress, she had to find a new role within the tribe after her leg was crushed by a charging kova. On most days, Kelia didn't find her unpleasant so much as irritating. Tonight, however, she was steaming mad from Nyla's antics, and Kelia knew before she even sat down that she would have to answer for her daughter's misdeeds.
“Greetings, Protectress,” Eloni said.
“Greetings, Councilors.” Kelia sat down in the large chair at one end of the room, facing the three women arrayed in a semicircle around her.
All four waited for a few moments before Katura broke the silence. “Protectress, when last we spoke, you informed us that Arantha instructed you to venture to the western outcropping. Had word not reached our ears about your return, we might have ordered Runa to go find you. However, since you have returned, we can only assume that whatever it was you envisioned came to pass.”
Kelia nodded. “Last night, at right around midnight, a ball of light appeared in the western sky, as my visions foretold. It streaked across the heavens, disappearing somewhere in the Kaberian Mountains.”
She watched the three women for a few moments, gauging their reactions. Katura and Eloni's brows were furrowed in deep thought, but Susarra was clearly underwhelmed by the news. “That's it?” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “You shrouded the reasons for your departure in mystery. You refused an escort. And after three days of waiting, that's all you have to tell us?”
Kelia bit her bottom lip as she tried to keep her voice calm. “I'm afraid so.”
“The Stone has shown you nothing else?” Eloni asked.
“Not at this time.” Kelia took a deep breath. “But I will tell you what my instincts are telling me. It is vitally important that what I'm about to say will not leave this room. I would ask that you all swear an oath that you will remain silent on this matter.”
“Is that really necessary?” Susarra asked, looking nonplussed.
“I'm afraid I must insist.”
As one, all three women placed their left hands on their sternums and then their right hands over their left. Then, bowing their heads, they spoke in unison, “My word is my bond, and to Arantha I swear my silence.”
“Thank you, Councilors,” Kelia said. “I believe the object I saw last night came from The Above.”
Katura let out a short cough, Eloni's whole body stiffened up, and Susarra's mouth fell open. No one spoke. For once, all three Councilors could think of nothing to say.
After a few tense moments, Kelia continued. “As I said, this is just my belief. Arantha led me to that spot so that I may witness the arrival of … whatever it was.”
“ 'It'?” Susarra said in a hushed tone. “You do realize … it could be the return of Arantha herself.”
Kelia regarded Susarra, whose face was a mixture of reverence and uncertainty, and Kelia hoped her earlier anger had been momentarily forgotten. “I admit that is a possibility. Now you understand why I had you speak the oath. But I must caution the Council to resist the temptation to jump to any conclusions.”
Katura nodded, her wrinkled face conveying her y
ears of experience. “Wise advice, Protectress. Indeed, we understand the importance of keeping this quiet. If word of this got out, it could throw the tribe into chaos. Centuries ago, when the Ixtrayu were far more prone to superstition, our people might have made a mass exodus to the mountains to find this object.”
Kelia held up her hand. “Which is why I will not make such a journey until Arantha directs me to do so. Even if what I saw was the return of Arantha herself, I am not so reckless as to go charging into the unknown based solely on my own instincts. The Ixtrayu have not survived for centuries by abandoning all reason.”
“Which brings me to my next point …” Susarra said.
Here it comes, Kelia thought with a sigh.
“… how much longer will the Ixtrayu survive without the Sojourns? It's been thirteen years, Protectress! There hasn't been a child born to us since –”
“Since Nyla. I am aware of that,” Kelia interrupted, affixing her with a stern glare. “You know I am aware of that, Susarra, and yet it does not stop you from bringing it up at every conclave.”
Susarra bowed her head in acknowledgment, deflated. “I apologize for my brusqueness, Protectress. Please know that my concern is not merely as a Councilor, but as a grandmother.”
Susarra's only daughter, Ilora, died twelve years earlier. While out hunting, she'd been bitten by a hugar, a venomous serpentine creature that stalked its prey by burrowing into the ground and waiting for its victims to walk within striking distance. Runa brought Ilora back to the village on their fastest chava, but by then, there was nothing even Katura could do.
Ilora and Kelia were in their early twenties when they chose each other as companions, and remained so even after Nyla was born. As the Ixtrayu's leader, Kelia was force to temper her grief, but Susarra's bitterness did not abate after they laid Ilora's body to rest.
“Susarra, your frustrations are ones I share. Had I my mother's prowess, I could tell you why the Sojourns were stopped, when they will resume, and exactly what this object from the Above is. For years, I've been unable to answer the same nagging question that you pose so regularly. But consider this: Arantha gave my mother powers of divination far beyond any previous Protectress for a reason. Perhaps the exact same reason my own powers of foresight are so weak and my elemental powers are so strong. It's because this is how it was meant to be.”
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 7
