BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)

by E. Rose Sabin

  By the time she’d gotten as close to the open door as she could without being seen by those within, she had heard several boys’ names called out but not the one she most hoped to hear. Her good fortune had led her to the boys’ side of the children’s quarters; the girls’ side, she gathered from various remarks, was on the other side of the wall at the end of the corridor.

  Instead of individual apartments like those of the shrine attendants, the children slept in bunk beds in a long dormitory, the entrance to which was across from the room, apparently a recreation area, that she stood outside of. She considered darting into the dormitory and hiding until the boys returned. She would risk being seen as she ran, but it was a risk she was willing to take, because it seemed the only way she could hope to find her brother.

  She was poised, ready to make the dash, when she heard the name she’d listened for: “Stethan!” someone shouted.

  She froze and listened. The voice said in a lower tone, “Steth, someone’s here to see you.”

  Alarmed, she strained to hear more, but could not hear a response. There must have been one, because the same voice said, “I don’t know. A young guy. Nobody I ever saw before.”

  Oryon!

  Bryte had to reach Stethan before he went to greet his visitor. Abandoning caution, she darted into the room and shouted, “Stethan! Stethan, don’t go to that man.”

  She had known there were adults in the room with the children, but she’d paid them scant attention. Those adults converged upon her, heading off her dash toward a dark-haired young boy she saw at the door on the far side of the room.

  “Stethan, don’t go out there,” she shouted, struggling against the restraining arms, her vision wholly focused on the small figure at the door.

  He looked back in puzzlement, stood on tiptoe trying to see her past the crowd gathering around her, shrugged, and opened the door.

  “No!” Bryte screamed, and then, looking at last at those who held her, two men and a middle-aged woman, she said, “Let me go! I’m his sister. He’s in terrible danger. I have to get him back. Let go!”

  They did not relax their hold. “Who are you and how did you get in here?” the woman asked.

  “I told you—I’m Stethan’s sister. I have to get him before it’s too late.”

  “Stethan has no sister,” the woman said coldly. “You will answer my questions.”

  And just beyond the door that Stethan had passed through, Bryte heard a familiar voice say, “Hello, Stethan. I’ve been sent here to take you to your father.”

  It was Oryon. He had won.

  Or had he? She had stopped struggling for a moment, and that allowed her to hear Stethan say, “I have no father.”

  Forgetting for the moment that her captors would not have heard what she heard, she shouted, “See, Stethan, he’s trying to trick you.”

  The only result of her outburst was that her captors, looking puzzled, tightened their grip on her arms. As they dragged her toward the door by which she’d entered, a slender boy of no more than six or seven ran to one of the men holding her and tugged at his sleeve. Even in her anxiety, Bryte could not help noticing the iron collar clamped around the boy’s neck. It had a loop like that for a chain on a dog’s collar.

  “What is it, Corey?” the man said, impatience evident in his tone and his frowning face.

  “That man that came for Stethan, he’s lying, sir. And she’s telling the truth.” He pointed at Bryte.

  The man continued to frown, but the woman helping the men grew pale. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the boy insisted. “I was right by the door. I got a good reading. And now I’m reading her.” Again he indicated Bryte, this time with a nod in her direction.

  “We can’t—” the man began.

  The woman interrupted. “He knows, Jon. He always knows. Let her go.”

  Clearly reluctant to obey, the two men regarded each other questioningly.

  “Do what she says,” Bryte urged. “He’s getting away.”

  “He can’t get out,” the woman said soothingly. “The temple is locked.”

  “You speak too freely,” one of the men told her, still not relinquishing his hold on Bryte.

  “He can open locks,” Bryte yelled and wrenched from the men’s grasp.

  She ran for the door through which Stethan had gone, shoving goggle-eyed youngsters out of the way. The adults pursued her, but she reached the door, yanked it open, and hurtled into the room beyond before they could catch her.

  The room was long and narrow with padded benches along its sides. The benches were empty, the room unoccupied.

  The men and woman caught up to her as she paused to verify that fact. Ignoring the men, she turned to the woman and demanded, “How would they leave the temple?”

  “The sanctuary isn’t open,” the woman said. “They’d have to use a side door. To your right.” She added that direction as Bryte reached the door on the room’s far side and went through it into the corridor, the same corridor she’d been in earlier.

  Bryte started in that direction but hesitated. The door into the sanctuary had not been locked. She whirled around and dashed toward the entrance she’d used earlier. Nearby she heard the music of a choir; the practice was still in session, so the corridor was still deserted except for the two men and the woman who’d followed her into it. She nearly collided with them as she ran, but this time they made no attempt to stop her.

  She was right; the door was not locked. Maybe the woman was referring to the outer doors, which were locked, but locked doors would not stop Oryon.

  They would stop her, but she ran toward them anyway, hoping that Oryon might have left them unlocked. She heard others pounding after her, but she reached the doors.

  Locked. She was worrying fruitlessly with the lock when a cry of “Fire!” sounded behind her, and the ones who had followed her ran to her left.

  She looked in that direction and saw a sheet of flame filling the first alcove. The memory of Oryon’s throwing fire at Lord Inver surfaced and sent her racing after the others. The three adults had reached the alcove but not entered. Several of the boys had followed, and another woman who led young Corey on a chain. These all hung back in fear. Bryte had no time to puzzle over the chained child. She pushed past them and joined the three adults.

  Heat poured from the alcove, driving them back. But Bryte noticed a curious thing: despite the ferocity of the flames, they did not crackle and roar as a true fire would.

  Through them she saw two shadowy figures, one large, one small. Oryon and Stethan. She steeled herself to dive through the flames to reach them. Then she remembered.

  This was the first alcove—the one that held the huge mirror that reflected most of the sanctuary and the alcoves on its opposite side.

  She raced across the sanctuary. On its far side she ran from alcove to alcove, and although it was hard to use her gift of hearing while she ran, she listened as best she could.

  She heard a shoe scuff across the marble floor, a faint whimper, and the whisper of a flame. The sounds came from an alcove midway along the sanctuary.

  She did not see them at first; she only heard the soft sound of breathing. The alcove held a round pedestal on which were arranged a circle of votive candles, a few still lit. Behind the pedestal rose a statue of a fish surrounded by crabs, lobsters, and shellfish, representing the bounty with which Mibor blessed the waters of Delta Province. Unlike the statue she’d hidden behind, this one was positioned against the wall. No one could hide behind it. However, there was a space between it and the pedestal holding the candles. And as she listened, she heard very soft, guarded noises from that space.

  Something glinted behind one of the lit candles. Staring hard, she made out a hand mirror, angled to reflect the candle’s flame and send that reflection toward the large mirror in the other alcove. That was the fire: Oryon was using his power to magnify the reflection into a vision of flames filling the first alcove. But where was
Oryon? Stethan might fit into the gap between pedestal and statue, but Oryon would not.

  Someone had to be holding the hand mirror in place. Recalling that Lina had said something about Oryon’s power of invisibility, Bryte edged into the alcove and grabbed for the mirror.

  She caught hold of the hand that held it, a hand that she could not see.

  “Little fool!” Oryon’s voice spoke from a spot that looked empty but was not. “Now I’ll have to kill you, too.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAINS

  It’s a relief not to think or care about anything. Only Lord Inver’s orders matter. They’re like worms burrowing into my brain. They take over everything and leave no room for anything else.

  I have the boy. The kid’s scared, but he’s got spunk. He hasn’t figured out yet that he’s going to die.

  Everything went according to plan except for Bryte. How’d she find me? I’m using all the power Lord Inver channeled to me to remain invisible, and the mirror magic is keeping everyone else convinced that there’s a huge fire on the other side of the sanctuary. It should’ve fooled Bryte, but she’s gifted and she’s clever. No wonder I liked her. Funny, I can remember the feeling even though it’s gone now. Too bad she had to come here. It doesn’t change anything except that I’ll have to kill her, too. I should mind that, but I don’t.

  One hand clamped around Bryte’s throat. The other hand, the one she’d grabbed, still held the mirror. Instinctively Bryte grasped what she had to do; she shifted her position to stand in front of the mirror. There! That ought to quench the “fire.” And in fact, surprised exclamations came from across the sanctuary.

  With a muttered curse, Oryon let the mirror fall in front of the candle whose light it had been reflecting and placed his other hand around her neck. He was visible now, until blackness closed in on her as his grip tightened.

  “Over here,” a child’s voice called. And while Bryte struggled to remain conscious, temple attendants surrounded the alcove.

  “Release her!” a man’s voice ordered.

  When Oryon did not obey, the man raised what looked like a long silver needle on a wooden shaft. He plunged it toward Oryon. Bryte felt Oryon wince, but his fingers tightened even more. Unable to breathe, her consciousness faded, and she slid to the floor. A body fell on top of her, and she knew nothing more.

  She awoke on a thin pallet in a dimly lit room. She tried to rise and discovered that she was tethered to the wall by a chain attached to an iron collar clamped around her neck. It allowed her enough freedom of movement to sit up but not enough to stand and walk about.

  She was not alone in the room. Oryon, clothed in his customary black, lay on a pallet like hers, chained in the same way she was. So far as she could tell, he was unconscious, and she hoped he’d stay that way.

  A third pallet was rolled up against the opposite wall; above it a chain hung from a ring in the wall, an empty collar at its end.

  She put her hands to her neck, which ached from Oryon’s choking her, and tested the tightness of the collar by trying to slip a finger beneath it. Only her smallest finger could fit beneath it. She probed the link where the chain attached. She could feel no clasp that might be forced open.

  Feeling uncomfortable, she was wondering how she was supposed to relieve herself, when a door opened. A man and a woman came in, leading Corey by the hand. The woman, a heavy-set older woman with an air of authority about her, spread out the third pallet, and the man took hold of the third chain and clamped the collar around Corey’s neck.

  Corey sank down onto the pallet, and the woman walked toward the door. “Please,” Bryte called out, “I don’t understand why you’ve chained me like this. And I need to visit the washroom.”

  The woman turned back. “The chains are required, but you’re safe here. I’ll call someone in to help me, and we’ll take you to the washroom.”

  “But why am I chained?” Bryte insisted.

  “It’s a safety precaution,” the woman said before leaving the room.

  “They think you got special powers,” Corey piped up.

  “What have they done with Stethan?” Bryte asked, ignoring the boy’s statement.

  “He sleeps in the dormitory with the other boys. They keep me locked in here on account of my talents.”

  That was interesting. “What are your talents?”

  “I’m a truth reader. That ain’t all, but it’s all they know about. What’s your talent?”

  “I didn’t say I had one.”

  “You do. I can tell.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged.

  She would have pressed for an answer, but she heard two sets of footsteps approaching. One she was sure belonged to the woman who’d left, keeping her promise to return. The other, lighter, she hoped for a moment might be Stethan’s; but they were not light enough to be the steps of a child.

  A woman’s voice said softly, but not too softly for Bryte’s ears, “Could she really be Stethan’s sister?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

  A second voice whispered, “Corey says she’s telling the truth, but who knows? Hush now!”

  Seconds later a young, slender woman entered with the older, heavier one.

  Bryte recognized the young woman by her long auburn hair and the lilt of her voice as Kanra, the priestess in whose room she’d taken refuge and nearly been discovered.

  The older woman approached and leaned over her with a key, held ready to unlock the shackles. “You aren’t planning to try anything, are you, girl?

  Bryte decided it would be wise to be respectful. “No, ma’am. I just need to use the washroom, please.”

  Still the woman hesitated. “Corey, is she telling the truth?”

  He looked ill at ease and hesitated a moment before answering, then nodded slowly and said, “Yes, ma’am. She doesn’t mean to try to get away.”

  That wasn’t strictly true, but she wouldn’t contradict him. She did need to visit the washroom, and she didn’t intend to try to escape, but she did hope for an opportunity to speak to Kanra and seek her help.

  The washroom was small and had no window, only a vent up near the ceiling. No way to escape if she’d wanted to. Even so, the older woman crowded in with her, allowing Bryte no privacy.

  On the way back Bryte risked a bit of conversation. “That Oryon, the guy that tried to grab Stethan, is dangerous. I can see why you have him chained. But why chain me? I saved Stethan. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

  “You’ve accepted a gift of sorcerous power,” the older woman said. “That in itself is evil.”

  “What makes you think I have any kind of power?”

  “Corey’s a reader,” Kanra said. “He knows when someone’s telling a lie or telling the truth, and he knows who has partaken of the false power and who is clean.”

  “Power isn’t evil of itself,” Bryte said, repeating what Lina had taught. “It can be used for good or evil.”

  “Any gift from a strange god who does not derive his power from Dor and Dora can only be evil,” the older woman snapped. “We don’t tolerate such gifts.”

  “Seems like you tolerate Corey’s gifts.” Bryte aimed her remarks at Kanra, who seemed uncomfortable with the discussion.

  “Corey is kept under tight control,” Kanra said.

  “That’s enough talk,” the older woman ordered Kanra. “You don’t owe her any explanation.”

  By this time they’d reached the room where Bryte had been chained. When they took her inside, she saw that Oryon was sitting up, massaging his temples.

  For a moment she hoped that being knocked out by whatever drug they’d shot him with might have restored his reason, but when he looked up at her, even before he spoke, she knew by the cold expression on his face that it hadn’t.

  He watched in silence as her escorts, working in equal silence, shackled her to the wall. “That will hold you till they come for you.” The older woman’s voice oozed satisfaction. With a haughty glance at Oryon, she ad
ded, “Both of you.”

  She and Kanra left the room. Only then did Oryon speak. “Fools!” he said. “Whoever they send to get me would only take me to Lord Inver. But I’d rather not face him until I’ve accomplished what he sent me here for.” He touched his neck and the shackle opened. “They have no idea what true power can do,” he said with a laugh.

  A gasp from Corey drew Bryte’s attention from Oryon. The boy’s face was white; his eyes, wide and staring.

  “Yes, my little friend,” Oryon said, “you had no idea what power I command, did you? Now you’re beginning to understand.”

  Corey opened his mouth, and Bryte expected him to shout for help, but he only made a choking sound and clawed at his throat.

  “Don’t kill him, Oryon, please,” Bryte begged.

  “I’m only making sure he doesn’t yell for help. And I’ll have to do the same to you.”

  Even before he finished speaking she felt her throat tighten. Her tongue felt swollen and the sounds she tried to make refused to come forth.

  “The effect is temporary,” Oryon said. “It will fade soon, but it’ll last long enough to let me do what I need to do.” Chuckling, he walked from the room.

  They’ll catch him. They can’t be far away. He’ll never be able to reach Stethan without being seen. Her hopeful thought carried no real conviction. Oryon was clever and powerful. He would succeed.

  If only I had power like his. But how do I know I don’t? Lina suspected I had more gifts than just my special hearing, and eventually I’d find out what they were. Maybe I could get out of this shackle like he did.

  She knew she couldn’t. But there had to be something she could do. If there weren’t, Oryon would kill Stethan. She cast about, searching desperately for some inspiration, some way she could call for help. Using the little freedom of movement the chain allowed, she kicked the wall hard with the hope of attracting attention with the sound. Listen as hard as she might, she heard no approaching footsteps, no calls, nothing.