Sigmund leaned against the back of a sofa and asked, “Do you think the two Dev servants that Tazama spoke of were successful in building teleplatforms to match those she built in Phelos?”
With a quick glance at Tazama, Toth said, “I don’t think anyone can achieve what she’s done, but still, we must prepare for the possibility.”
Tazama smirked. “I’m glad your intelligence trumps your desire to flatter me, milord.”
The room fell silent, and Toth eventually looked at his proxy. “What do you suggest we do, Wert? How are the teleplatforms in the city being handled?”
“As for the two teleplatforms in the palace, Jina and Halluci stand guard at each. As Diatia, they are our most skilled fighters, so it only makes sense for them to protect the most important ones. Prince Sigmund, here, has also volunteered to patrol the dungeon door that houses both platforms. He’ll also have his Branian there to help, so those I am not too worried about.”
Wert released a deep breath and scratched his beard with the only hand he had. “In regards to the teleplatforms scattered throughout Phelos’s outskirts, I have soldiers stationed all over. The outer reaches of the city are swarming with military personnel, including Garlo and my top officers. I’d feel more confident if I had Elyol Brekton and Dev Warden Gala at my disposal, but I understand their purposes elsewhere.”
Toth nodded, then looked at Tazama, who stood near the door. “And Tazama will also hover around the dungeons, as one final precaution,” Toth said. She didn’t seem to react. “While she prefers to avoid fights, that doesn’t mean she isn’t talented in them.”
“Of course,” Tazama said.
Vliyan smirked. “And I’ll provide an extra oomph wherever needed,” she said, suggestively running a finger across the necklace that squeezed her neck.
Prince Sigmund’s eyes darted toward the woman, disgust flashing across his face.
“You’ll see much less of me in the coming days,” Wert said, “for I’ll be in the outskirts, rotating between teleplatforms. I will make sure nobody who infiltrates the capital survives.”
Vliyan cackled and said, “You don’t even have a hand. You, a warrior, were bested by a spy in hand-to-hand combat.”
Wert’s face burned red. “I was blindsided by Passion Assassins in the pitch black!”
“Whatever helps you cope,” Vliyan muttered, still chuckling silently to herself.
Toth cut in before this quarrel grew into a fight. “I’ve always appreciated your desire to put yourself in the heart of a battle, Wert. I like this plan.”
After a moment, Wert finally tugged his focus away from Vliyan. “Leave it to me.”
* * *
Cogdan Castle was more than just a castle. Its grounds were essentially its own sector within the city. Multiple buildings sat within the grounds’ outer wall, each of which surrounded the royal edifice that touched the sky. Dev King Storshae strolled across a cobblestone walkway, bundled warm in a burgundy coat trimmed with panther fur along its hems. He followed a man dressed equally as warm but not as lavish.
“She’s all kinds of bonkers, today, milord,” the man said, directing him toward a building that looked like nothing more than a gigantic gray block of stone, windowless and, at first glance, absent of doors.
Storshae narrowed his eyes, studying the antsy nature of the man’s step. He was a guard of the building just ahead—a prison that housed the most important Devish captives of the Dev Kingdom. They stopped in front of the building, where two other guards stood. After a quick bow, they each extended an arm toward the seamless stone. A door lifted, revealing a vast expanse of prison cells illuminated by torchlight.
This prison was one gigantic room. Prison cells ran in both rows and stacks for as far as the eye could see. It was constructed exactly like a library, with cells taking the place of bookshelves and humans serving as the books.
Known as the Confines of Consciousness, this building was made entirely of Permanence. From the moment construction commenced back in the 900’s, it took four hundred and twenty-six years to become operable. While building it had taken only ten years, the remaining four centuries involved the slow process of natural hardening, for there was no kiln big enough to handle such volume of provod. They had to rely on the sun to do the job.
But the wait proved to be worth it.
There was no other building like the Confines in Kuki Sphaira, or at least not to the knowledge of the Devish. It was designed to contain the abilities of Devish who were deemed as likely traitors. They were essentially being stored inside of a giant Permanence vessel. Because of this, there was no way to use telepathy to communicate with anyone outside of the building. Prisoners here were cut off from the outside world forever.
Storshae left the guard at the door. He didn’t care to have company when in a place like this. Besides, not many could walk through the Confines of Consciousness and leave with their sanity. Because of the building’s qualities and the talent levels of the Devish held within, there were all kinds of thoughts floating throughout the building, trapped forever within the Permanence walls, ceiling, and floor. If one wasn’t trained to block Dev Energy from entering their mind, they’d become overwhelmed by the images of prisoners’ memories. And not just that, there were a few prisoners capable of much worse—such as planting emotions into your head. They could drive someone to suicide if the scenario was set up correctly.
Despite the many threats posed within this prison, there were still more vacant cells than there were filled. After all, rare talent that needed to be stored in a place as secure as this was few and far between. No more than a couple dozen prisoners called the Confines of Consciousness their home.
Storshae finally reached a cell in the back corner of the Confines. It was a unique hold, much larger than the rest, packed with more layers of Permanence in the walls around it. Such a design was required for the Dev Kingdom’s most dangerous captive—a woman who was, according to his father, the biggest threat to the Dev family. Storshae gazed at the woman seated on the floor within. Her raven hair was unnaturally long and in desperate need of a wash and cut. It fell in stringy curtains around her face and body to spool atop the cold, gray floor. With the way her head drooped, she appeared to not have a face. She wore an oversized tunic that reached her shins, once pure white but now stained a permanent tan. The bottom half of her legs were tucked under her, and her hands were crossed in her lap.
Storshae took a moment to study the walls of her cell. Cracks splintered across its foundation, dents evident in certain areas. This woman was a tricky one because she wasn’t like the other intelligence officers imprisoned here. She could do more with her weaving abilities than telepathy; she could fight. That’s why she was in a cell designed for such beasts.
“The Confines make people insane,” Storshae said, eyes narrowed at the woman, “but I don’t believe there is a word for what it has done to you.”
The woman began to rock back and forth on her shins, muttering something incoherent. She grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and wrapped them around her wrists, a strange coping mechanism that she’d had for as long as Storshae could remember—something that she had passed on to her daughter.
Storshae had never understood his father’s fear of this woman, but if his father feared her, then Storshae should do the same. Rehn just knew things—some believed he knew everything. That was the truth of it. Besides, look at what she had done to this cell. Storshae himself wouldn’t have been able to damage Permanence as thick as this.
“What is bothering you, Homina?”
She sniffled, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand, although it was difficult to tell with her hair in the way. “The Originators.”
Storshae raised a brow. “What?”
“You’re not aware ...”
“Of?”
She pinched her knees and squealed into her wrists. Storshae turned to walk away, not possessing the patience for such foolery today.
But sh
e stopped him in his tracks.
“Ancestry is powerful. Ours is tied together. Your father knew too much; he knew more than everyone. He was hunted because of this knowledge ... because he knew of the Originators.”
Storshae turned to face her, leaning against a bar. He figured he’d humor her. “And what’s an Originator?”
“The rulers before our timeline; the orchestrators of the great war; and, for some, the very essence of energy.”
“The essence of energy?” Storshae asked.
Homina’s shoulders slumped as her posture slacked to one side, her head rolling as if she had no control of her neck. “The essence of energy,” she hissed. “You’ve worked hard to resurrect your father; he’ll reward you with answers if you succeed. However, he’ll be upset to know that you haven’t done away with me yet.”
Storshae had to stop himself from shivering. There was a reason why he avoided this building. He could only imagine what Homina would do to someone who wasn’t a royal or stronger.
He mustered up the will to speak. “Don’t worry, Homina. Not only will you be done away with, but it will serve a great purpose.”
She hummed curiously. “I see,” she said, her head rolling to her other shoulder. “How is my daughter?”
Storshae stared at Homina with dark eyes. “Illipsia is alive and well.”
* * *
Storshae sat by his son’s crib, mulling over Homina’s words. All this time he thought his father had feared her power, but perhaps it had simply been who she was. But who was she? What was that nonsense about Originators?
Storshae leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting atop his fingers. He’d had so much to celebrate over the past year—the acquisition of the Archaic and Adren Kingdoms and the birth of his heir topping the list. But now he was frustrated. Now he wanted his father back more than ever. There was much for him to learn. All of his accomplishments up to this point meant nothing if he couldn’t complete the journey.
What was Toono doing? Storshae hadn’t talked to him since he departed from Cosmos six months ago. The only reason Storshae knew about the recent events in the Spirit and Adren Kingdoms was because of Tazama. Since when did he become the final line of communication? Stoshae relayed information to them, not the other way around.
The baby squirmed, and Storshae sighed. “Hopefully, you’ll be more like your grandfather rather than your dad, Telos. I’m not even half the man he was. I know nothing.”
As Storshae reflected on the stories of his father, he felt someone trying to enter his mind to communicate. It was Zimmu, a Devish intelligence officer stationed in the Still Kingdom.
“What is it, Zimmu?” he muttered.
Zimmu’s voice rang through his head: “Trouble in the Still Kingdom, Prince.”
Storshae’s eyes narrowed. “Such as?”
“Bryson LeAnce has been granted access into Kindoliya by Still Queen Apoleia, Prince.”
Storshae straightened up, eyes spreading wide. “What?”
“And he was accompanied by several others—none of whom I know the names of. But I think they’re powerful players from True Light.”
Storshae fell silent. Was he catching a whiff of collusion, or was Apoleia trying to lure in the enemy? The latter seemed more likely, but the opposition wasn’t that idiotic. And Apoleia despised the Intel and LeAnce names more than anything in the world, so why would she contemplate anything they have to say? And what about the meeting to be had between the leaders of SCAPD in two weeks? He and Warden Gala had worked hard to get the other leaders to agree.
“Wait a second, Prince,” Zimmu’s voice said. “Still Warden Moroza is ... running this way?”
“Where are you?” Storshae asked.
“I’m still at the teleplatforms, Prince. It seems your idea to disguise some of the Devish in Stillian colors worked.” After a short pause, Zimmu said, “Moroza would like to speak with you, sir.”
“Let her.”
This situation became more suspicious by the second. What in the world was Apoleia doing?
A rattled voice sounded in Storshae’s head. “Prince Storshae!”
“Relax, Moroza,” he replied. It sounded as if she was struggling for air.
“I just journeyed halfway across the Diamond Sea as fast as I could to get here. I had to pry myself away from the True Light team.”
Halfway across the sea? Something didn’t add up. “Wait, how long ago did they enter the kingdom?”
“It’s been three days,” Moroza said.
“IT TOOK THREE—” Storshae stopped himself, forgetting Telos was sleeping right in front of him. He stood up and hurried toward the door. “It took three days to notify me?” he asked in a harsh whisper.
A pause followed, then Moroza said, “I don’t know, sir. I’ve been preoccupied. I don’t know why Zimmu took so long.”
“Do you have any useful information for me?”
“Bryson LeAnce, Olivia Still, Toshik Brench, Vuilni Gesluimant, Titus Finilguster, a Devish man, and an Intelian scientist are in Kindoliya, trying to win over the Still Queen as we speak.”
“And she just let them in?” Storshae asked, slamming his back against a wall in the corridor outside his son’s room. “What could they have to offer her that would make her forget all the wrongs that have been committed against her? It can’t be money; she’s a royal head. She has enough of that.”
“They claim they can heal her father’s paralysis.”
Storshae closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He could understand that—if it wasn’t impossible. “She has to know that’s a lie,” he muttered. “They cannot achieve something so preposterous.” He fell quiet a moment, placing his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Apoleia doesn’t side with Intelians. She’s going to try to kill them ... unless they kill her first.” He gazed up toward the cavernous ceiling. “Now I have to make a decision. Do I send troops or not?”
“I went through the same thought process while I was still with the True Light squad,” Moroza said. “I was certain that their promises were empty ...” Her voice trailed off. “Then I saw the scientist—or whatever he is—bring a man back to life.”
“Back to life?” Storshae repeated.
“A hailstorm hit. A lot of people died, and one more should have added to that tally. However, this man did something strange. He pressed his hands against the corpse’s chest and surged electricity through it. After a few attempts, a pulse returned ... and Apoleia saw everything, for one of the Devish nearby was recording the whole fiasco.”
Walking a few steps down the hall, Storshae gazed out a window, toward the rooftops surrounding him. “What’s the likelihood that Apoleia is letting this scientist return movement to her father’s legs, only to backstab the True Light group immediately after?”
“It’s possible,” Moroza said. “I wouldn’t put it past my queen; she’s known to be ruthless.”
Storshae gazed toward the barracks, barely visible around a tower. “I will get in touch with Power Queen Gantski. We’ll each send a brigade into the Still Kingdom. This is exactly why we keep ships near every kingdom. The meeting between SCAPD leaders will have to be postponed.”
A short pause followed, then Moroza said, “Two brigades?”
The shock in her voice was understandable. Six thousand soldiers was a considerable force. “I want you to approach the part of the river where ice meets water, Moroza. A few ships will arrive shortly.”
“Prince, does a small group from the True Light require so much manpower to take them down?”
Storshae pressed his forehead against the window. “Apoleia will need our help if Bryson LeAnce and Olivia Still are there. One side is going to try to kill the other, and we have to make sure, when the time comes, that it isn’t the Still Queen who hesitates.” Sensing betrayal from a certain someone, he shook his head. “It shouldn’t have taken this long for me to be notified. Kill Zimmu for me.”
“Milord, no!” Zimmu said.
All that followed was a sickly gag. Zimmu only notified Storshae now because he had likely seen Moroza returning to the teleplatforms. She would have questioned why Storshae hadn’t been contacted. Loyalty was a hard concept for most. He slowly shook his head. Warden Moroza may have been a Stillian, but even she’d betray her queen in favor of Storshae if it meant hurting an Intelian—especially a LeAnce—was the outcome.
Mendac had hurt many people in this world ... more than anyone could imagine.
28
The Tethering
Agnos stood on the quarterdeck of his ship, next to his helmsman—a brawny man who was nearly shorter than the helm itself. Agnos even stood an inch higher than him, which was not something the short and scrawny Jestivan could say often. He gazed over the main deck, his eyes dragging up toward the forecastle, up the masts and into the city of sails above. Somehow, he had come to be in charge of all of this.
Part of him was sickened by it, as butterflies of guilt fluttered within his stomach. Captain Gray Whale had played a big part in getting him such a beast, but did Agnos really want such debts with a woman like her? She had slaughtered hundreds of Adrenian sailors and obliterated twenty ships. As much as Agnos tried to understand the fact that she had supposedly been working for a greater good, his Archain mind always wound up condemning what she had done. It was a monstrous act.
And now Gray and her ship, the Whale Lord, sailed behind him. He had fought this scenario countless times back in DaiSo—not wanting to sail alongside someone like her—but each time she had replied, “Too bad. I’m tagging along whether you like it or not, Anus.”
And yes, she had even reverted to calling him by the old disparaging nickname she had given to him a year ago. Perhaps what bothered him most was the fact that he felt a sense of comfort knowing she was nearby.
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