Alchemist like himself. Ka thought it unlikely that Phlegon would wish to invest his trust in another. Then he realised with a glimmer of hope that he did not have to convince him for long, only for the smallest quantum of time, just long enough...
Zelron appeared pleased with Ka’s obvious discontent. He smiled, a wide lipless smile, as he removed the tip of the fyre spear from Ka’s chest and beckoned to the other officers.
“The Blood ascendant wishes to speak with Meister Phlegon.” Zelron mocked, “I see no reason to disappoint our guest.”
Zelron waved an arm dismissively as he turned away.
“Take him,” he said.
Obeying without question, the Afreet officers took to their wings. They lifted Ka from his mount and carried him into the air, flying off towards the Pyrus. They did not notice Puk, who, in an attempt to remain hidden, had transformed himself into a tiny green gecko and was now hanging precariously from Ka’s dragon skin belt beneath his cloak.
Within minutes, Ka was dropped unceremoniously from the air and onto the balcony of the parliament building. Two of the Afreet held him tightly by the arms. A third began a body search, but almost at once he jumped back, removing his hand from Ka’s cloak with a roar of pain. Attached to his fingers was the pukis, its tiny wings flapping frantically and his fine, needle sharp teeth buried deep into the flesh of the Afreet.
Grabbing his sword from its sheath, the officer swung it hard, in an attempt to decapitate the little pukis. They danced ridiculously around the balcony, the gruesome lumbering Afreet flailing his sword at the lightening fast Pukis, who ducked and swooped, skilfully avoiding his blows.
“Puk here, to me,” snapped Ka urgently.
The pukis flew immediately to his side as the officer sprang towards them, his eyes flaming as he raised his sword.
“Nerak!” yelled Zelron, charging between them and blocking his attack. “Have you finished searching the prisoner?”
His voice steeled, challenging his officer to rebel. Nerak’s jaw tightened. Angrily sheathing his sword, the Afreet grabbed Ka’s arm and roughly attempted to complete his search.
Ka held his breath as the Afreet’s hands brushed over the concealed pocket in his robe, but Nerak did not discover the two small items hidden within the thick material. He stepped back suddenly.
“Your ring” he demanded, holding out his hand.
Ka slowly put his ringed finger into his mouth. Moistening it with his tongue, he clasped the ring between his teeth and pulled it off his finger. With a mordant smile he held out the ring, balanced on the tip of his forefinger, and offered it to the officer. Nerak snatched it from him, his face contorted into a revoltingly nefarious grin.
“I will make it my business... My Lord” said Nerak, “to see to it that you never again have the opportunity to take advantage of this little trinket.”
He nodded to the other officers. Grabbing Ka, they dragged him through the doorway and into the hallway of main building.
The Afreet guards escorted them along corridors adorned with highly polished blue lapis and red marble mosaics depicting images of dragons, volcanoes, mines and cities of fyre. Finally, they were ushered into the grand chamber of the Pyrus, where the Hydrargyrum parliament would ordinarily be sitting.
Ka was beginning to gain confidence, feeling sure that his ruse had been successful and that he had created his intended impression. That he was nothing more, than an arrogant, naïve and very foolish opportunist. However, a tiny flea of doubt niggled at his confidence. Ka knew well of Phlegon and he was a formidable opponent. Phlegon was ruthless enough to wipe out anyone unwise enough to challenge him. He was powerful enough to rule Erebus for thousands of years with little chance of being freed, and yet still cunning enough to plan for the day when he would walk again in these lands.
The grand chamber was furnished with benches upholstered with red dragon leather. Afreet officers guarded curtained annexes off main hall where gigantic crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. As Ka entered, he could hear whimpers and cries of pain coming from the curtained off area. Beads of perspiration speckled his pasty grey forehead, like morning dew on a death cap.
The seating was arranged in a half circle surrounding a raised stage, where the ruling cabinet of Magisters would sit to debate policy. The chamber reeked of history, musty scents of wax polished oak wood, ink and parchment, merged with the charged, dusty atmosphere of a thousand years of discourse.
The Prime Magister’s throne-like seat at the centre of the stage was occupied, but not by the Prime Magister of Hydrargyrum. Fyre Meister Phlegon sat there, surrounded by Djinn overseers and senior officers of the Afreet. He exhibited an air of blasé that expressed to all who watched that to sit here was his right, his destiny.
By his side was a female Djinn. Like the males, her tall, muscular body was encased in red scaled skin that glowed with the faint natural phosphorescence of the creatures of Erebus. As with the females of most species, her features were softer and less angular than the males and her figure more rounded. She wore a long gown of fine red Aurum silk and her body was adorned with a weighty amount of Hydrargyrum jewellery.
Phlegon watched Ka’s approach with barely hidden disdain. Four Afreet officers marched him forward. Zelron signalled them to stop a few feet in front of the Fyre Meister. He greeted Phlegon with a curt bow of his head.
“Ah, Zelron,” said Phlegon, taking a swill of wine from huge a jewel-encrusted goblet. “So this is the Blood ascendant that is to make me an offer that I cannot resist.” He snorted, “I admit that I am intrigued as to what that could possibly be.”
Zelron approached the Fyre Meister, bending close to him. After a few minutes of hushed conversation, he returned to stand stiffly to attention beside Ka.
Phlegon set down his goblet and rose leisurely to his feet, taking a handful of blood nuts from a dish held by the young female. As he walked towards his prisoner, he popped one into his mouth, biting down hard. The shell cracked loudly in his jaws, a trickle of blood red liquid escaped from one corner of his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand as he devoured the sweet, putrid flesh of the fruit.
Phlegon towered over everyone in the room and with his muscular frame and long limbs he was an intimidating, menacing giant. Continuing to crack the blood nuts with his teeth, he prowled around Ka like wolf circling sheep.
Finally, Phlegon stood in front of him. He leaned in so close that Ka could smell the pungent aroma of the blood nuts lingering on his breath. Phlegon’s skull-like features creased into a perverse grin, not a grin of amusement, but rather the expression of an evil child, about to detach the legs from a spider.
“I’ve no doubt that you have heard of me Lord Ka?” He said, not waiting for an answer. “I am the haunting chill that burns like fyre upon your neck, the malevolent master that you will soon be bound to obey.”
His voice was coarse, like wet gravel, and its tone was little more than a whisper. He breathed his words heavily into Ka’s ear.
“I control armies of winged fyre. I can assimilate you in an instant,” he clicked his fingers in the air, “taking all of your knowledge and power for myself... without any fear of resistance.”
He moved back in mocking astonishment, his eyes wide with amusement.
“Yet you stand here before me and offer me an alliance?”
He threw back his head and roared with a laugh so loud and resonant that Ka felt its vibrations deep in his chest. Phlegon’s eyes narrowed as he moved his face to within an inch of Ka’s. So close that they felt the heat of each other’s breath against their skin.
“Perhaps you can explain to me,” said Phlegon “what you think I might gain, from such an arrangement?”
Ka realised that this was his only chance. Unconsciously he held his breath.
“Meister Phlegon,” he said, looking calmly into Phlegon's unyielding reptilian eyes. “You are correct in that I am aware of your immense power. Indeed, you a
re somewhat of a legend to me and my followers. This is why we broke the seal on Tollen’s gate and freed you and your people. We wish for you to take your rightful place in these lands. As Ophites we have long supported the right of the Djinn to have a kingdom above ground...”
“I am well aware of you Ophites and your absurdly pious beliefs about the Djinn.” Phlegon’s words, dripping heavily with contempt, cut viciously across Ka’s. “The Djinn do not care to be worshipped, only to be served and obeyed and we do not pretend to offer anything in return for this, but your lives.”
Phlegon spat out the remainder of the blood nut shells that he had been eating. The crimson stained gob splattered onto the tip of Ka’s shoe.
“You have nothing I want,” he said “nothing that I cannot take from you. So I ask again, what can you possibly offer me that will be more valuable to me than your assimilation?”
“An alliance, Meister Phlegon,” Said Ka, his words carefully measured. “I offer you a union like no other, one of self-sacrifice. It is true what you say, you can take our knowledge, you can take our potens, you can compel us to obey, but you cannot impel our loyalty. If you truly wish to control the Afterlands then you will need the loyalty of its people or you will forever be at war with them.”
“And you can provide this how?” said Phlegon straightening.
Ka leant forward, a conspiratorial
Ascension of the Whyte Page 24
