I was surprised that she had taken the trouble to leave that note and vial for me. In her eyes at least, Hortencia owed me nothing. On the contrary, I owed her. In fact, I wasn’t really sure why she bothered to help any supernaturals at all. Maybe it was just for her own amusement.
As I gazed around the chamber, I wanted to ask what “this” even was—where were we? But before I could, the oracle continued, “So you trusted me enough to drink the juice.”
Trust might be too flattering a word. “I had no choice,” I said through gritted teeth.
She grinned, folds of her sagging skin bunching beneath her cheekbones. “Good,” she croaked. “You are learning. You are learning.”
Learning what? I would have asked, but I had more burning questions. “I need to know about Cyrus,” I said. Though, of course, you already know that.
Hortencia let out a deep cackle, which spiraled into a violent coughing fit. She dropped to her knees, her hands grasping the rocks as she hacked and spat. I was holding my breath as she looked up again.
What on earth happened to her?
She summoned the flask of stale water and drank from it. Then she folded her legs in front of her and sat cross-legged where she’d fallen. She patted the ground next to her. “Sit,” she commanded me. As I lowered myself, she smiled again—a sickly sweet smile—and said, “It’s story time.”
I nodded, waiting tensely for her to start.
“Close your eyes and concentrate on my words,” she said. She reached out a hand and trailed her clammy fingers from the top of my forehead down to my eyelids, forcing them closed. Then, removing her hand, she began…
“Once upon a time in the land of jinn, there lived a mighty king known as Harzad Drizan. Like his father and grandfather, Harzad was a ruthless leader. He built upon the work of his ancestors to forge a path toward establishing the Drizans as the most prominent tribe in The Dunes. He ruled with an iron fist, and his people respected him, while all other tribes cowered in his wake… except for the Gheens. Although a smaller tribe than the Drizans, the Gheens were highly intelligent and fiercely tenacious, bowing to no-one.
“As the years passed, and Harzad’s two sons grew into men, having children of their own, the time came for Harzad to relinquish his reign—as is the custom of jinn. The Gheens were still unvanquished, and Harzad knew how great a challenge his reigning son would have to face as king.
“His older son was Trezus, while his younger was Cyrus. As was the tradition with royal siblings, the role of leader did not automatically go to the eldest. It went to whomever rose victorious in a treacherous contest, arranged by the king himself to determine true worthiness of the throne.
“Harzad’s father, Setir, had done the same to him and his three brothers, and Harzad’s grandfather had done the same to Setir. And as was also the custom among Drizans, the stakes of each generation’s test had to be raised. The tasks would get harder, more impossible, for this was the way that they ensured their rulers only went from strength to strength, and never weakened.
“Harzad took his time in selecting the task and eventually, with the help of his counsel, he came up with what he believed to be the perfect idea.
“The Drizans were famed for their affinity for The Dunes’ native scorpions. Creatures the size of small horses, with looming, venomous stingers and pincers strong enough to squish a man’s skull like butter. Harzad’s great-grandfather had taken in a large horde of these scorpions and bred them in captivity. Using his unparalleled powers, he had experimented with numerous mutations until he came upon the perfect variation to employ as additional security for their lair. By the end, he’d managed to make their venom so potent, a single sting could kill a jinni in a matter of seconds if caught in their physical form… unless the jinni was exceptionally strong. Only one had been known to survive the sting, and that was the leader of the Gheens.
“In those days the Drizans’ prominence was less established, and the creatures were of use for a number of years. Once the Drizans had secured their supremacy among the jinn, Harzad’s ancestor released a number back into the wild, where they continued to breed uninhibited.
“It was these wild scorpions that Harzad used for his task. Trezus and Cyrus were to battle in an arena with two male scorpions—one each—slaying the monsters, and then drinking the venom from their stingers in front of the gathered crowds. There would be only two rules: the upper halves of their bodies must remain in a physical state, and they weren’t allowed to use magic. Whoever survived both the battle and the venom would be crowned that very same day. If it became a draw, then Harzad would be forced to think up another worthy challenge.
“The brothers were each given four days to prepare for the task—however they chose to do so, using either brain or brawn—and went their separate ways.
“Trezus immediately summoned the clan’s physician and spent the first two days developing an antidote that could line his stomach against the poison. Then the next two days he spent in the armory, gathering and training with the most lethal weapons.
“His younger brother Cyrus, on the other hand, disappeared. He vanished the same hour the men were given the task and he remained absent the entire four days. Nobody knew where he went, not a single one of his wives or children. But on the night of the contest, when the two men were due to meet for the contest, Trezus arrived bearing antidotes and weapons, while Cyrus came with nothing at all. Not even a shield to cover his exposed chest.
“His father was both surprised and saddened; Cyrus had always been his favorite of the two. Trezus was only encouraged, thinking that his brother’s arrogance would surely lead to his demise.
“The king, queen and all the Drizan people gathered in a makeshift arena in the desert, with the two brothers standing on either side. Two jinn let loose the first mammoth black scorpion a few feet in front of Trezus—who had volunteered to go first.
“As the scorpion hurtled toward Trezus, he valiantly swung and swiped with his swords, but he was unable to get close enough to gouge the scorpion, so ferociously protected by pincers and a towering stinger. In the end, he managed to spear through a joint in its neck—paralyzing it—but when Trezus severed the stinger from the dying scorpion and squeezed the venom into his mouth, he collapsed instantaneously. The attendant physicians gathered round, but they were too late. Trezus Drizan had not been strong enough to withstand the poison. He was not worthy of his father’s crown.
“All eyes turned on Cyrus. Two jinn brought in the second scorpion and placed it in front of Cyrus. It scuttled toward him, just as the other had done to Trezus, but as it reached within four feet of the younger brother, it stopped abruptly. The ringmasters gathered round, suspicious that Cyrus could be playing foul and using supernatural powers, but they soon verified he was not.
“The scorpion remained still, pincers folded, stinger hanging low, as was its head. It was as though the beast was bowing to the young man. And then, with one swift movement, Cyrus launched onto the back of the scorpion, took its stinger within his muscular arms and snapped it from its body. He leapt off as the scorpion flailed and rolled onto its back. Shortly after, the supervisors pronounced it dead.
“The crowd held their breath as Cyrus bit right into the barbed stinger, tearing through the flesh until he reached the venom, where he poured a full mouthful into his jaws for all to see. He swallowed… and yet he stood.
“A minute passed. Two minutes. Three minutes.
“Still he stood.
“The crowd erupted, the king and queen relieved, and all present hailed their new king as a miracle. A gift from God Himself. Harzad simply labeled him as the son he’d always known he had, a true heir to his throne.
“Cyrus’ coronation ceremony was the most lavish in the history of the Drizans. And so began Cyrus’ rule. Even more ruthless than his father, after only four years, he eradicated the Gheens as any potential threat. But throughout Cyrus’ years of ruling, until this very day, he never revealed to anybod
y how he truly came to power. How he truly withstood the test his older brother could not. And why should people question him, when by his actions he was so clearly meant to lead?”
The oracle’s voice faded. I opened my eyes—or at least my mind’s eye. Her head was tilted toward me thoughtfully, the torchlight sending shadows dancing across her wizened face.
“Well?” I said. “What did happen to Cyrus during those four days? What did he do? What has given him the strength that he has?”
I should’ve expected what was coming the minute she stopped talking at such a pivotal moment in the story.
“Benjamin, Benjamin,” she said, with an almost gleeful smile. “You like to be spoon fed, don’t you?”
I like straight answers, the same as any person who is not insane.
But I already sensed that I was going to get nothing of the sort from the oracle. Her outward appearance might’ve changed drastically, but she was still the same maddening woman.
“I will give you what you need, not what you think you need,” she said after a pause. “And what you need is my advice.”
Advice. The last time she’d given me her “advice”, I’d ended up trafficked to The Underworld and imprisoned as an ornamental pet.
“What is your advice?” I asked, my jaw tight.
She rose to her feet. Her withered, almost unrecognizable face panned down to me as she replied, “Return to The Drizans’ palace and remember… everybody has something to hide.”
Ben
Before I could pose another question, the scene around me faded, as did the oracle. I found myself lying on the ground. I opened my eyes. My real eyes. River was crouching over me, one palm against my forehead. Aisha hovered nearby, too.
“Are you okay?” River asked anxiously. “You were talking to yourself.”
I sat up, rubbing my head, livid at the oracle for having sent me back without any explanation as to what she’d meant. It took a few moments to collect my thoughts before standing up again.
“We need to return to Lake Nasser.” I sighed. “I’ll tell you everything when we get there.”
Aisha was strong enough to transport us back to the islet where we’d left the others, and on arrival I recounted what had happened to River, Aisha and myself.
“So you’ve got to return to the Drizans’ palace,” my father murmured.
“Yes. I have to observe some more…” And hope against hope the oracle isn’t messing with me.
“You’ll really go alone again?” River asked.
Before I could answer, Lucas stepped forward. “I’ll go with you,” he said, eyeing me steadily.
My parents spun around and gazed at him in shock. I couldn’t miss the flash of gratefulness in their eyes, while I could not say the same for Jeramiah. The last thing he wanted was to let his father go again, naturally.
“Okay,” I told Lucas. I wasn’t exactly sure why he had volunteered but I was grateful. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go down with any more than two, but two of us should be manageable.
Lucas and I left the islet, even as the expression on River’s face cut me to the core. We dove through the portal and arrived back in The Dunes.
We zoomed to the entrance of the Drizans’ lair and, in our subtle forms, passed through the scorpion entrance, which, after the oracle’s tale, now held new meaning for me. As I led Lucas onward, the palace was much quieter than before. We didn’t spot a single jinni in the hallways. I guessed because it was so early in the morning.
We approached Cyrus' apartment and entered it. I headed straight for the bedroom where we’d left him. No laughter drifted from it now, but rather deep heavy snoring. We drifted inside to see Cyrus lying in the middle of his giant bed, beneath silk sheets, with Nuriya—apparently also sleeping—clutched to his chest. The other female jinn had gone.
Lucas and I roamed silently about the large chamber before exploring the rest of the apartment—which was like a palace in itself. It took us a surprisingly long time to explore every corner of it. We spotted nothing of particular interest, just more of the same, senseless luxury.
We returned to the bedroom again, the couple was still sound asleep. My eyes traveled over the walls, settling on a display of bejeweled daggers. What if I just tried to kill him now? In his sleep? Wouldn’t it be easy?
Lucas and I—transparent, though still visible to each other—exchanged glances. I sensed that he had guessed what was going through my mind. His expression was uncertain.
Despite everything that I’d been told about Cyrus' powers, and how it would not be easy to end him, I couldn’t stop myself from at least attempting it… with him lying here so vulnerable. Turning solid, I moved to the daggers and silently removed one from its holder.
Stilling my breathing, I moved closer to the bed, tightening my hold around the blade’s handle.
He was so close. All it might take is a slash across the neck, and this whole nightmare could be over…
But as soon as I reached the edge of the bed frame, the jinni stirred. Then, to my horror, he twisted away from Nuriya. I barely had time to even think how to react. I thinned myself in an instant and dropped to the floor, causing the dagger to clatter down with me. Lucas had dropped too, and together we raced for the door.
Detaching himself from Nuriya, Cyrus crawled over the bed, peering over the edge at the fallen dagger. He let out a low growl and his dark, dangerous eyes flashed as they darted around the room, his nostrils flaring.
“Who goes there?” he hissed.
We sank through the door, hoping he hadn’t spotted us. Emerging on the other side of the door, I whispered my uncle’s name.
“We need to leave the apartment,” I breathed to my uncle.
I caught sounds of Cyrus tearing through the rooms in search of the intruder as we sank through the walls and arrived back in an outside hallway.
If Cyrus had detected my silent approach through the depths of his sleep, I could only imagine his reflexes when awake.
Lucas and I hurried onward, creating more and more distance between us and that jinni. Eventually we paused in a quiet corner of what appeared to be a dining room.
“What now?” Lucas whispered, his breathing uneven.
The oracle’s “advice” rang in my head. “Remember… everybody has something to hide.”
I clenched my jaw. “We have to keep watching.”
Ben
We did not dare reenter Cyrus' bedroom, though we had no choice but to return to his apartment. As it turned out, we found him in the kitchen. His back was turned to us, a glass of bright orange liquid in one hand, while the other rested on the marble counter. He drank slowly from the glass, his mind clearly elsewhere… on the strange events of this morning, no doubt.
We watched him finish the glass. Then we followed him as he left the kitchen and returned to the bedroom.
“Nuriya,” he said, standing in the doorway.
“Mmh?” an absent voice replied.
“Come,” Cyrus said, extending his hand.
Nuriya arrived next to him, and he took her hand, leading her to the kitchen. Opening a silver cabinet, he took down a large flask of the same orange juice he had been drinking. He filled his own glass with it, but this time handed it to Nuriya.
“Drink up, my sweet.”
Nuriya still looked bleary-eyed from sleep, or perhaps that was her normal expression now. Obediently she took the glass and sipped. She immediately choked.
“Drink it all,” Cyrus insisted.
Gingerly, she swallowed the rest. After setting down the empty glass, she clutched her throat, wincing.
Cyrus looked pleased, his full lips broadening in a smile. Running his palms down her arms, he took her hands in his and leaned forward to kiss her lips.
“You will be my queen, Nuriya. My tenth and final queen.”
Tenth and final. Wow… way to woo a woman.
I wondered if all of his nine wives were still current. I also wondered how many childr
en he had fathered. According to the oracle’s story, before he was crowned he had already had several wives and children.
Nuriya swallowed harder than when she’d been trying to down the potion. Still, she nodded, though her eyes remained distant.
“I must leave you now,” he said. “I have a meeting.”
We followed Cyrus out of the kitchen and the apartment, along the winding hallways, until we reached a magnificent courtroom—empty except for one jinni hovering in the centre. He turned around to glare at Cyrus as soon as he entered the room. I could tell immediately from his stark features that he must’ve been one of Cyrus' relatives, and from his youth, most likely one of his sons.
“Horatio!” Cyrus boomed cheerily.
Horatio. The name rang a bell. I was sure that he was the jinni Aisha had mentioned—her old friend, the person who’d banished her from The Dunes for her own safety. Unless there were two Horatios…
“Father.” Horatio stormed over to the king, not even giving his father a chance to rise to his throne. “Are they true, the rumors?” Horatio asked, unrelenting in his glower.
“What rumors?” Cyrus asked, a half amused look on his face.
“That you plan to wed Nuriya?”
Cyrus heaved a sigh. He took to his throne, one elbow resting against its arm, while the other hand massaged his temple.
It seemed that was enough to answer Horatio’s question. The young man’s eyes narrowed. “You promised my mother she would be your last. You promised us all.”
Cyrus' smile faded. “You forget, Horatio, that Nuriya was meant to bear my heirs long before I made that promise.”
“You’re an abomination,” Horatio spat. “That’s what you are.”
I was shocked to see Horatio insult Cyrus in this manner, even though he was his son. Horatio must’ve been very dear to Cyrus, for Cyrus did not admonish him in the slightest. He simply rolled his eyes as his son stormed out of the room.
Crouched down in one corner with Lucas, I dared breathe, “Let’s follow him.”
A Shade of Vampire 24: A Bridge of Stars Page 4
