Agnos tried to swim away from the island to reach the calmer sea, but he couldn’t fight the currents. And his withered arm wasn’t any help. The one arm that did work was busy holding the chronicle against his side. His legs were the only limbs capable of propelling him forward.
Another current tugged him sideways. He tumbled through the water, losing awareness of where he was pointed and which direction he was headed. Then came the sensation of being pulled upward toward the surface, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, he was hindered beneath water, but the surface was probably more violent than the depths.
He broke through the surface, his bubble carrying him up a wave. He gazed backward, down the wave’s wall. He was as high as the tip of his ship’s main mast. He glanced forward as the wave began to crest, his vision obstructed by the water crashing against the bubble. His wave collided with another. Agnos was tossed forward. His spherical barrier lifted out of the sea, but he would smack the surface soon enough. He screamed, the rapid drop sending his heart into his throat.
Mid-air, his trajectory pivoted sharply. He was carried through the sky by a sudden, inexplicable blast of wind. As his arc began its descent again, another gust hit him, carrying him farther. Twice more this happened, giving him the sensation of flying, before he cleared a final wave and spotted his ship in calm waters just outside of the danger zone. The Whale Lord was at its side.
Just before falling unconscious and hitting the dormant waters of the safe area, he spotted his best friend standing at the bow of his ship. Tashami Patter, his ivory hair reflecting dawn’s orange hue, had come to his rescue.
40
Rings of Wings and Strings
As Rhyparia neared Realmular Tunnel’s exit, she realized that while the light she had seen for the past few days had been the sun, it hadn’t been direct sunlight. Something was obstructing the light’s path.
When they approached the tunnel’s mouth, they each climbed out, forcing Rhyparia to get creative with how she weaved the gravity, distributing it differently in separate areas. Once they all stood outside, they looked up. A blanket of smoke floated through the sky, casting the land in a dim light.
“A volcano,” Rayne said.
They followed her gaze. They had resurfaced on what had first looked like a mountainside, but clearly that wasn’t the case. A few thousand feet above them was the mouth of a volcano, spewing smoke into the air.
“Well, that explains the insufferable heat during the last week through the tunnel,” Moros said.
“Let’s move,” Atarax said, wasting no time in heading down the rugged terrain.
They followed. “What do we do now?” Moros asked.
“We recover here in the Prim Kingdom,” Atarax said, “which will take some time. We are in poor condition. While we do that, we find out a way to get into the Power Kingdom. Then we work toward freeing the slaves of Stratum Zero.”
Rhyparia stood still for a moment, watching as the group began its descent. She would do more than just free the slaves.
* * *
Phelos bathed in triumph, celebrating the deaths of Himitsu Vevlu and Intel General Lars and the acquisition of the Adren Kingdom. News of the Still Kingdom’s shift in loyalties had yet to reach the Archaic Kingdom’s capital, so there was no damper to their bliss.
Archaic King Toth Brench stood on a patio in one of the palace’s courtyards. A spread of food and alcohol had been set on tables just inside a slew of open double doors that led to a spacious ballroom. It was the same location as the New Year’s celebration just over two years ago. A gentle hill rolled down to a pond at the foot of the palace wall. Toth had watched his son tumble down it with Jilly on that night, where the two lovebirds then kissed to usher in the New Year. With all that had happened since then, it felt like ages ago now.
While Toth stood at the epicenter of Phelos’s festivities, he couldn’t have felt any farther away. He stared blankly into dusk’s dying light, motionless and obstructive to the natural flow of those dancing around him. He had achieved so much, yet a sense of defeat swallowed him. He’d never see his son again, and Tazama couldn’t be found. Each foundational pillar had been ripped from beneath his soul. Power and wealth meant nothing if he had nobody of importance to share it with.
Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel.”
Toth didn’t have to look to know the voice belonged to his proxy, Wert Lamay. Toth nodded slightly. “You are one of the few people who can say that to me and actually mean it.”
“We’ve known this for a long time,” Wert said, violins playing in the background. “We both lost our wives.”
Toth finally glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He had forgotten for a second that Wert didn’t know about Jilly’s death. So no, Wert didn’t truly know what Toth felt—not yet, at least. Somehow, Wert would find out eventually.
“Come on,” Wert said, turning toward the ballroom. “Let’s grab some grub. I saw a nice hefty steak on my way outside.”
Toth followed. “What about the selection of wines?”
“You are the king,” Wert replied after a short chuckle. “Naturally, all of your favorites are present ... and a few others.” He had said the last few words in a deflated manner.
Confused by what Wert had meant, Toth shrugged it off. They stepped through the open double doors of glass, framed with ivory-painted wood. Toth scanned the wine spread, and his heart dropped. Spotting a sleek bottle filled with a milky brown liquid, he realized that Wert had been referencing Tazama. Red wine infused with decadent chocolate from the Passion Kingdom’s Volcanic Quadrant ... her favorite drink. Servants had likely set it out specifically for her.
Wert grabbed a gold plate, its circular edge trimmed with diamonds. “Pulled out all the stops today,” Wert said, handing his plate to Toth. “Letting these barbarians use your most prized tableware?”
“I don’t think I care that much anymore,” Toth said, slicing into a massive steak that sat between fennel and lamb. He had to help Wert prepare his plate since he only had one hand.
Wert paused, eying the king as he placed a generous portion onto Wert’s plate. “Don’t give up on me, Toth. We’ve come so far.”
They gathered their desired meals and left the ballroom, heading a bit deeper into the palace in search of seclusion. They chose a quaint parlor. Toth sat in a cushioned armchair, using his lap as a table for his plate. Wert placed his food on a short coffee table before taking a seat on the floor.
Only the scraping of silverware filled the silence for a short while, the two men treading the muddy waters of their minds. By the time Wert cleared his plate, finishing with a satisfying belch, Toth had only taken a couple bites of a baked potato. He had mostly poked and prodded his food throughout the silence, stealing an occasional glance at the bottle of Tazama’s favorite wine, which he had retrieved from the ballroom spread.
Wert sighed and used his one hand to push himself to a stand. He swept past the nightstand, grabbed the wine, and walked toward the small bar. Holding the bottle between his bicep and ribs, he uncorked it, then crouched behind the bar before reappearing with two wine glasses pinched between his fingers.
Toth placed his plate on the nightstand, deciding that he was full. He got up and approached one of the two stools at the bar. As he took a seat, Wert poured his king a glass of chocolate wine and pushed it toward him.
Toth picked it up and stared at the creamy liquid, smooth as chocolate milk—a dangerous drink if it were to land in the eyesight of a child. He swirled its contents before gently tipping the glass between his lips. He closed his eyes and pictured Tazama in her burgundy silk nightgown, waiting on his arrival to their bedroom.
“You know me,” Wert said, interrupting Toth’s picturesque memory. Toth opened his eyes, watching as Wert browsed the drinks resting in diamond cupboards that covered the wall. “I need something a little less fancy.” Pulling out a wine bottle only slightly to read the
label, he nodded. “This will do.”
Toth took another swig of his wine while Wert poured his own, this one a blood red. Wert had become efficient with using one hand; his motions were nearly seamless.
“You have become a heavy wine drinker since we’ve taken over the kingdom,” Toth noted, managing a smirk. “The royal life has contaminated you.”
“That it has,” Wert replied. He tossed the glass back, draining its contents in one swift gulp. “I didn’t realize how much I’d love this lifestyle.”
Toth’s gaze darkened, looking down into the milky brown liquid below him. “I don’t know when the time will come, Wert, but I have something to tell you.”
Pouring another glass, Wert said, “You can tell me now.”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Toth said, “after tonight’s festivities have ended. We should appreciate this high the city is experiencing right now.”
“I don’t see much appreciation coming from you,” Wert said, his eyebrows climbing his forehead as he drained another glass down his gullet.
Toth shook his head, shame creeping up his back. “I’m trying to show it. You know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I have an army because of your leadership.”
“That’s right,” Wert said. He stared at Toth, then glanced at the bottle of chocolate wine. “I’ve always told you that Tazama was not the kind of person to trust. I treated her the way I did for a reason. She’s crafty, very much like that Ophala woman.” Wert shook his head. “I don’t like crafty.”
“You think she was working with True Light?” Toth asked. “It would explain how the Jestivan knew to search for the telecluster in the Dev Kingdom. Maybe it hasn’t been Ophala relaying information all along, but rather Tazama. That’d make more sense since I’ve had conversations with Tazama. With Ophala, we’ve never discussed important information near windows.”
Wert shrugged. “It is strange how Ophala has supposedly gathered all of our most secret intelligence. We speak only in dungeons or windowless chambers when discussing matters of importance. So you’re right ... it would make more sense if it had come from Tazama.”
“Or she’s been working with Storshae and Toono, going above our heads,” Toth mused.
“Also a possibility,” Wert said. “Acting as a spy within our ranks, giving updates to both of them.”
“Yet I still want her back.”
The two men fell quiet. Eventually, Wert wiggled the cork back into the bottle’s top and returned the wine to its cupboard. “I mustn’t drink too much. We do have that dance ...” He trailed off, spotting a grandfather clock across the parlor. “Speaking of which, it starts in thirty minutes. We should get going.”
Toth slid off his stool and asked, “Whose idea was this again?”
“Vliyan’s,” Wert said. “She doesn’t make many suggestions, so it’s best we take her up on some on the rare occasion. This way she can continue to feel like she’s important to our regime.”
The two men exited the parlor. “I don’t even have a dance partner,” Toth said.
“What a coincidence!” Wert exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Toth. “Neither do I! We can dance together.”
A smile slipped onto Toth’s face. “That’s not happening.”
* * *
A seventy-foot section of Archain Road had been cleared by the masses. At the center of the clearing was a circular stage surrounded by a smattering of dance partners: Vliyan and Preevis NuForce; Elyol Brekton and Jina; and Archaic Prince Sigmund and Halluci. Toth sat on a makeshift throne on the stage. Originally, he had planned to share it with Tazama, and they were to dance above the rest. But now, he’d only observe his subordinates, Wert seated by his side.
The low hum of the crowds surrounding them diminished as the orchestra played a tune on an overhanging balcony of a nearby building. The pairs began to dance under the starlight and the plethora of torches that lined the street.
Toth glanced at the surrounding faces of citizens. Children and adults of all ages looked on in awe. Most smiled, some whispered to each other in excited manners, and others simply watched in silent appreciation. Toth felt out of place. What was he searching for? Tazama’s blue hair and cerulean eyes glowing beneath the stars, Toshik’s lanky frame extending above the rest of the crowd, or the ghosts of his wife and daughter?
Undoubtedly, he had accomplished more than he could have ever imagined. He had upheaved the Amendment Order, become king, and successfully separated his kingdom from the powerful Light Realm. He was allies with names such as Dev King Storshae, Power Queen Gantski, Cyn King Zisha-Li, the Rogue Demon, and Still Queen Apoleia. He even had a prince beneath him who followed his every command. Still, it wasn’t his rightful prince. He doubted he’d ever see his son again.
As the orchestra continued to bathe the street with harmonious tunes, Toth’s stomach began to churn, and his extremities tingled. Heat rose from his chest and into his throat. His hand instinctively went to his mouth as his body lurched. The instrumental harmonies came to an abrupt halt, and murmuring filled the air.
Toth glanced at the masses. Some stared at him, but others looked up, pointing toward the sky. He followed their gestures, fighting the urge to vomit, and cowered at what he saw. Baleful and grotesque, dozens of vultures circled above, forming three rings that looked to ensnare those below. The innermost ring sat directly above the dancing aristocratic pairs, following their path.
The partners came to a stop, but the scavengers of the three rings above continued to circle. There couldn’t have been a more blatant sign of Ophala’s presence—and the message was clear.
Toth lurched once more, this time falling off his throne and dropping to his elbows and knees. Blood fell out of his mouth and splattered against the stage’s wooden planks. His innards felt like they were liquefying as his body continued to reel. At this point, he no longer knew what was being expelled from his mouth.
During a momentary pause in which he breathed desperately—strings of saliva hanging from his lips—all light disappeared. Not just the torches, but the celestial lights of the night sky. Screams of panic erupted around him. Sight had been ripped from every single person on this stretch of road. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening with the cacophonous response of the masses, and he couldn’t move because his limbs were locked tight.
Light returned moments later, but the screaming didn’t stop. Using all of his remaining effort, Toth looked up from the stage. There were no longer six people standing around the platform, only four. The rest lay in heaps next to their partners, crimson puddles beneath them and a vulture perched atop each body. Elyol Brekton stood over Jina, Prince Sigmund over Halluci, and Preevis NuForce over his wife, Vliyan. Each of them held a bloody dagger by their side.
Toth looked around for Wert, but another rush of vomit spilled out of him. What was happening?
“Toth Brench.”
The unmistakable voice of Wert Lamay came from directly behind Toth. He couldn’t turn, but he was nudged onto his back by Wert’s boot as it hooked against his ribs. Toth gaped at the man who was supposed to be his closest comrade.
“Earlier, you said you had something to tell me,” Wert said, his blue eyes fierce.
“I know,” Toth said, fighting back another gag. “I should have told you sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Wert said. “I’ve known for a long time ... I would have poisoned that drink of yours regardless.”
Sweat lathered Toth’s face as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. “You’ve been working with Tazama, haven’t you?”
“As poetic as that whole scenario was—Tazama’s disappearance and the use of her wine—it had nothing to do with her. I don’t know what that woman is up to, but I know she’s long gone from this kingdom. It’s why I chose now to make this move. Do you know how difficult it is to outmaneuver a mind like hers, one so very much like my own?”
Toth’s brows furrowed at the peculiarity of th
at statement. Did Wert really just compare his intelligence to Tazama’s?
“You seem confounded,” Wert said, reading the look on Toth’s face. “I’ll give you answers before your organs completely melt away.” Wert gestured toward those who remained standing around the stage. “I’ve stolen those who not only you have wronged, but those who have been wronged by those you ally with. You have made a lot of enemies by working with a lot of abhorrent people.” Wert placed an open hand against his own chest. “And I am one of those enemies.”
Wert’s face began to morph into something else. His golden scruff vanished, the hard angles of his blockish jaw receding into something gentler and smooth; his suntanned skin darkened to a deep caramel; and his messy blonde and gray hair lengthened, falling down his back as it transitioned into jet black. Even his body had changed to that of a woman’s; his uniform baggy over the smaller frame, a hand now present where there was once nothing but a stump.
Toth dropped his head. He had already accepted defeat, but to have been toyed with like this for nearly a year—there were no words to describe the humiliation. “Pilot Ophala,” he muttered, his brittle voice piling onto his shame. “You hid while your son died?”
“Did you not just see Elyol standing over Jina’s body?” Ophala asked. “He is on our side. What you saw was what I wanted to be seen. The same goes for most of what you’ve witnessed these past several months. This has been nothing but a theatrical performance. That shadow that just cast the street in pitch black; it came from my son. He is not dead. In fact, he even argued to keep you alive while you celebrated his supposed death. But I am not so merciful ... not anymore.”
A jolt shot up Toth’s spine, and a rush of liquids escaped him again. This time, however, the stream didn’t seem to stop. “A nasty little herb,” Ophala said. “Therapif wasn’t too keen on sending it over to me years ago. It had originally been intended for Itta, but I could never bring myself to use it. I’m glad I saved it.” Dismissively, she tucked the vial back into her uniform pocket.
The Chronicle Page 43
