The Destroyer Book 3

by Michael-Scott Earle

  "Was. She. Just. Here?" I asked slowly. Her feet hung off the ground but the force of my push must have stunned her. I heard voices of alarm from upstairs and in the kitchen. The room would be flooded with her guards in a few seconds and I could begin to kill. I pulled the Earth into my body and my blood rushed through my heart. How long had it been since I killed and Elven?

  Too long.

  "I saved you," she whispered through a crushed windpipe. Her hands clutched at my forearm but it was no use. She might be strong for an Elven, but I carried a strength that was beyond her imagination. She could have gone for her sword, or the dagger on the other side, but she must have correctly guessed that I would pop her head off of her fragile neck quicker than she might bring the weapons to use.

  "Now it appears that you are in my way," I said. My voice sounded like I had the helmet of my demon armor over my head.

  Her black eyes looked away from mine and toward the dark wooden floor. I saw something in the depths that halted my anger. Shouts rang out in the room as the household ran down the stairs. Her guards had short swords but no bows and none of them were wearing armor. If one of them made a move, I would kill her before they got to me. Then I could easily disarm the first one and paint the maps on the wall with their thick blood.

  "I'm sorry," Nyarathe whispered. She still wasn't looking at me and I couldn't keep my eyes from darting to where she focused. It was the stack of framed canvas that fell from the easel when the children ran. One of the cream-colored squares had landed face up and I saw an image drawn on it with charcoal.

  "What is this sketch?" My hand released its grip on Nyarathe's throat and she dropped to the ground with a gasp. I walked over to the other side of the room and picked up the canvas square. I didn't know much about art, but the drawing was done with an amazing amount of detail. My hair was now longer and I had neglected to shave my beard, but the face on the canvas was mine. The portrayal was good enough to make me wonder if I had actually posed for the portrait at some point in my life and forgotten.

  "I am fine. Leave us," Nyarathe ordered her guards. I glanced at them over the canvas in my hand and they looked like angry kittens ready to pounce.

  "Who did this?" I was more curious than angry now. She gave her sentries a hard look and they walked up the stairs. I was smiling in the picture. When was the last time I felt that emotion? I had faked my smile many times in my travels since I murdered Shlara.

  "Iolarathe," she said once I heard the guards enter their rooms and close the doors. I was sure they could still hear us. "You missed her by three weeks." She began to pick up the discarded bowls and flatware. One of the humans from the kitchen poked his head through the door and ran to assist her, but she shooed him away.

  "Why did she draw this?" I stared at the image again and my head spun. She had just been here. I was holding something she had created. She knew my face well enough to craft this from memory. I felt emotion in my chest and I tried to force it down into my stomach. I suddenly wished I had the talent to draw an image of her on canvas using simple charcoal. Malek would have laughed. I had always told him how useless art was and he tried to convince me otherwise many times.

  "It doesn't matter. I said before that she thinks you are dead."

  "Why didn't you tell me sooner that she was just here? I asked you several times and you tried to be clever." The anger I felt a few seconds ago had vanished. Now all I felt was sadness and frustration that Iolarathe believed I was dead. If she knew, she would stop evading me and we could be together.

  "I was not sure of your intentions." She lifted a tray neatly stacked with the dishes and glasses we had just used. "I am still not sure. Wait here." She walked the tray into the kitchen and I heard her tell her servants that she was okay and that we would require no more food from them tonight.

  "Are those girls your daughters?" I asked when Nyarathe walked back into the room. I gestured to the papers scattered on the ground by the table I had just crushed.

  "Yes," she said after a careful hesitation. She was probably afraid that I might attack them. I had killed many of their children in my genocide.

  "They look like you." I knelt down and helped her gather the various papers that I had scattered across the floor. Only about a quarter of them had soup splattered across them, but they were all still readable. I was correct earlier when I guessed that these were logistic tracking forms. Nyarathe was moving bodies, food, and weapons between the makeshift settlements where her people hid. I would have thought her operation would have been located centrally on the continent, but perhaps Nyarathe was cunning enough to realize this and had hidden herself here on purpose.

  "They look like their father," she said with sadness. I looked up at her but she was busy with her own pile and did not spare me a glance. I didn't want to ask her where their father was. He had probably died during the last battle.

  Such was war. Death, sadness, and loss for the vanquished.

  "I will take your documents to Jespuier." She looked up and nodded with a slight smile. "Do you have supplies to spare?"

  "I have some; I'll have them ready by tomorrow morning. We have a room you can use if you wish to rest for the evening." There was no trace of resentment from her for the destruction I had just caused, but I could still see sadness in her dark eyes.

  "My kind won't be looking for me in the city?"

  "No. There were only four in Deadflats, and the guards won't bother with a detailed investigation. For the past four years we've come to expect your kind to switch out a team of four or five every ten months. That group just arrived five weeks ago. One of Alexia's courier's comes through every two months, but I'll make sure they don't leave here with any news." I nodded and tried to force down the anger. The thought of Nyarathe killing any of my people made me sick to my stomach, but I had justified similar sins in the last decade.

  "I will rest then." I should have stayed up through the night in hopes that Nyarathe would tell me more of Iolarathe's whereabouts or hint at whatever strategy she was orchestrating across the world. Perhaps I could have asked her more about her daughters or had her describe the situation that made Iolarathe want to draw a picture of my face. But my body and mind were exhausted from endless travel through the wastelands. I couldn't remember the last time I had slept in a bed without worrying that the O'Baarni would break down the door to the room and capture me. The thought of letting my worries slip away was irresistible, even in the bosom of my sworn enemy.

  "Up the stairs, third door on the left. I'll have servants prepare a bath for you if you will wait a few minutes." She smiled coyly as I struggled to say no and finally nodded. A bath sounded worth the wait and she must have guessed how long I'd been traveling.

  "I am intrigued as to why you are helping me," I said as I stood up from the floor and laid another small stack of papers on an adjacent table. "If she thinks I am dead, she wouldn't have asked you to assist me."

  "I am not helping you." She tossed her hair back and snorted in disgust.

  “You just saved me from capture and death, then you brought me back to your home, offered me a meal, a bath and a safe place to sleep, all after I lost my temper and attacked you. Are you helping Iolarathe?” My hopes soared at the thought of seeing her again. Just saying her name was wonderful.

  "No," Nyarathe almost spat, and I wondered if she was angry at her sister for the same reasons my people were pursuing me. Iolarathe’s entanglement with me must seem like a betrayal.

  "Why then?" I asked in sincerity.

  "That is enough for tonight. Perhaps we will meet in another life, we can share another meal, and I can tell you about all of the people I loved who you slaughtered. For tonight, just know that I have my own reasons for aiding you." She glared at me and it reminded me too much of her sister. That look normally meant a horse or human servant was about to die.

  "Fine. Good night, Nyarathe."

  "Good night, Kaiyer." She returned to her papers and left me to ascend the stairs,
take my bath, and ponder the journey ahead.

  Chapter 14-Kaiyer

  "You are late for dinner." Vernine's voice shook me from my memory. I was soaking in the bath, in my prison tent, in the belly of Empress Telaxthe's army camp. Or was I in Deadflats still, sitting in the warm water Nyarathe's servants brought to my room in a copper tub? My mind ached for a moment and I rubbed my eyes to force the grogginess away.

  The last of the sun's red light dripped into my tent. Vernine brought her usual entourage of green armored female guards who glared at me with open hostility. It had been three days since I lunched with the empress and her generals. In that time, I had not seen Vernine, Isslata, or anyone besides three Elvens tasked with bringing me food and bath water daily. They refused to speak to me.

  I guessed that the isolation was part of the empress's strategy. Even their kind needed frequent social contact. She probably thought that the solitary confinement would make me more willing to succumb to her demands. But I was used to being alone and I had spent the time exercising and sorting through my memories. I had also finalized a plan which would ensure Telaxthe’s failure and my escape.

  The bath water was almost cold now, I had been soaking for some time. The water had triggered a memory that took me back to Deadflats. I got out of the tub slowly so that Vernine’s guards would not startle, and dried myself carefully with a clean towel.

  "Have you thought about the empress's proposal?" Vernine asked flatly. She was the exact opposite of Isslata both in temperament and appearance. Vernine was as cool and calm as her dark pewter hair, never revealing anything in her words or expressions. Her golden-haired counterpart was mercurial, swinging from different mental spectrums in a wild spinning dance that was apparent to anyone around her. I wondered how they could stand each other.

  "I have." I put on the undergarments the servants brought and then donned the green pants.

  "And?" I smiled for a second while the matching green tunic covered my head. I laced up the chest opening before looking Vernine in her ruby eyes.

  "I'd prefer not to let your guards know all my secrets. Maybe they should leave?"

  "That is not possible, O'Baarni." She crossed her arms and I detected a faint annoyance in her voice.

  "Too bad. I would enjoy some time alone with you." I smirked at her.

  "We have never been alone together, O'Baarni." The woman smiled and I realized it was true. In the castle I had always been with Isslata and Vernine together, and she never came to escort me without her guards.

  "Afraid I will harm you if we are alone?"

  "Maybe it is for your own protection." She laughed slightly and I cracked a matching smile. I understood little of their military hierarchy, but it seemed that Vernine was part of Alatorict's army yet also served the empress directly. She wore the empress's colored armor, and her hair and eyes were the same hue as Telaxthe's other guards.

  "You'll have to wait for me to tell the empress then. Will you be joining us for this meal?"

  "Perhaps." She motioned to the guards and two of them walked to the tent flap. "Do you wish me to be there?" She raised an eyebrow in interest and uncrossed her arms.

  "Sure." I tried to read her face, but she exhibited no pleasure from my response.

  "Is there anyone else you wish to attend?" She licked her lips and there was something that flashed in her red eyes.

  I stopped walking toward the exit of the tent midstride and thought about Isslata. If I invited the golden-haired Elven, I would not be able to mention anything about my suspicions of Telaxthe's daughter. Isslata had met Nadea, and I could only guess that she had not made the connection between my friend and the empress. Why would she? Nadea was a human and Telaxthe was the leader of the entire Elven nation. But I knew that Nadea was part Elven. I knew that she had been abandoned through the Radicle and adopted by Duke Beltor. She looked too much like Telaxthe for it to be a coincidence.

  Vernine hinted at something I had not considered. What if she knew about the arrangement that Isslata and I made? Did that mean the empress knew? Isslata seemed to have ridden a fine line between a political power play with me and betraying her own people. She wanted more time with the empress and saw me as a way to get it. She may have thought that Nadea wasn't important to the empress and could be sacrificed for some loyalty from me. Maybe Telaxthe and Alatorict had instructed Isslata to come to me with this proposition in the first place? Perhaps the whole endeavor was a ruse to see if I could be trusted?

  "Isslata should come. I wanted her at the last meeting." I couldn't rule out any of the possibilities. Not asking her to come could be seen as me backing out of my agreement with Isslata. If the empress knew of it she might not believe that I could be trusted to deliver her to the Radicle. I'd figure out another way to leverage Nadea if needed.

  "Good. I will speak to the empress about your request." Vernine nodded and looked pleased. Was I playing into their hands? I suddenly wished for my armor, shield, mace, horse, and two armies divided by a line of skirmish. Battles were so much easier than this intrigue.

  I stepped out of the tent and into the red rays of the setting sun. Twilight was an hour away, but the avenue was as active as at dawn. I had amused myself every few hours by listening to the comings and goings in the camp. My eavesdropping gave me little information beyond what I had already guessed. The army had not set hooks into the city yet because they were still investigating the strange explosion that had decimated one side of the castle. They didn't want to risk any of their kind, especially the empress, until the researchers were sure of what caused the incident.

  Vernine touched my arm lightly and we began to walk down the packed dirt road toward the center of the colored grid of tents. Most of the Elvens we passed paid no attention to my entourage, a few gave us a puzzled look. I assumed the Elven soldiers did not realize that I was an O'Baarni. I certainly did not look like one. I had put on some weight since being awoken, but I was nowhere near as bulky and stout as a typical heavily muscled O’Baarni. There were other humans walking through the paths in Nia soldier uniforms, so aside from my clothes and escort, I was not particularly conspicuous.

  The organization of the camp had felt familiar when I first observed it. Now that I knew the empress divided her army in the same way I had, with the same number of generals, the structure of the massive camp was clear. I felt confident I could make my own way to her pavilion and even find her generals’ tents without assistance.

  "Have you finished moving all of your kind to this world?" I inquired.

  "I am not party to such plans." I nodded at Vernine even though I felt like she was lying.

  "Me neither. That was why I asked." I smiled at her and she only returned a slight frown.

  It had been cold yesterday and the night brought an angry rain storm, but this day was significantly warmer than any in the previous week. I had not yet experienced spring on this world but it seemed like it might begin any day now. My mind drifted away for a bit and wondered about how the Radicle had been created. Who designed it? How did it know of the other worlds? Did all the worlds have the same four seasons? What caused the seasons? Was it the power of the Earth on the world? The oceans? The sun? The moon? I recalled the intricate map I saw in the ruins beneath Castle Nia. It looked like an impossibly huge spider web that glowed with the magic of the Ovule I placed in the Radicle. Had my people finally figured out how to use the device and left my birth world, or had humans always inhabited these worlds?

  "You look pensive, O'Baarni," Vernine commented at my side as my thoughts began to give me a headache.

  "I'm thinking of friends long gone." I shrugged my shoulders and gestured to the surrounding camp. "They wouldn't believe this." My tent sat in an area surrounded by Alatorict's colored tents, but when I finished my sentence we had reached sandy-colored tents. They flew brown and red flags above them and I assumed they were the green-haired general Dissonti’s colors from the outfit she had worn the last time we met.

  "
Tell me more. I do not understand what you mean." Vernine’s eyes opened slightly and she licked her lips like a snake.

  "They would be surprised that I am a prisoner in an Elven camp. They would be amazed at how calm I am now." I laughed and tried to hold back the flood of memories. Thayer, Malek, Shlara, Alexia, Gorbanni, and I had spent countless hours over some thirty years creating a war machine capable of freeing our people from generations of slavery. In that time we had become closer than family.

  Maybe it was fitting that I was here. I had betrayed the one person who loved me more than I loved myself. If Jessmei was correct, and our family and friends took on a spirit form to watch over us when they died, then Shlara and my other generals would probably be enjoying the poetic justice of my end coming at the hands of this empress.

  I couldn't worry about my past anymore. I was needed too much in the present.

  "You said they were long gone. What do you mean?" We entered an area of white tents and black flags. We had only another few minutes to walk.

  "Dead. At least I hope so," I said as half a dozen Elven men and women clad in ebony, with hair of various metallic colors tied back in elaborate braids mixed with black or white beads walked past us. It was the first group to eye me with surprise and then anger. It seemed that some of the troops did know who I was.

  "Human friends? On this world?" Vernine turned her attention toward ten red uniformed warriors walking past us. I sensed tension between my guards and Yillomar’s troops, but none of them looked at me as they passed.

  "They don't seem to like you." I changed the subject.

  "Most don't like the empress's Elite," Vernine replied.

  "What does that mean? You all have to color your eyes red and put gray paint in your hair?" Vernine smiled at me and a few of her guards gave me a sidelong glance.