Oran stopped them before reaching the man, motioning to remain still while he continued forward, whispering something inaudible to him. Taking advantage of the pause, Oksuva stepped backward, leaning in to speak quietly to their group. “Leave all the talking to me. If he asks you questions, keep your responses short and sweet. I am the one he needs to be dealing with, and I have enough information about his past that I can use against him if necessary.”
“What things of his past?” Leyna asked. The question fell from her lips before she had time to second-guess whether it was appropriate.
Oksuva looked her over irritably. “Regarding his ex-wife. Nothing that is any of your business.”
“It may not be any of my business, but it would be my suggestion that you not bring any of that up. He could react poorly.”
She could feel the eyes of everyone staring at her. They were confused by her, and in awe that she would speak against Oksuva. Not that she cared anymore. If Damir recognized her, she would die there in that cemetery anyway. And if Oksuva were to be so bold as to speak of his past, it was likely everyone else would die along with her.
“Damir will see you now.”
Oksuva cast Leyna one last icy glare before turning back around, her lips curling up into a pleasant smile at Oran’s approach. Nodding her head, she moved forward again, the others following behind her hesitantly.
As they drew nearer, Damir carefully lowered his hood away from his face, causing Leyna to twitch reflexively with a start. Zander’s eyes never moved away from him, but his hand tightened over hers, holding her in place at his side. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts of air, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The corset she was wearing felt suddenly too tight. Constricting.
Oksuva’s voice was soft and melodic, but her words were lost to Leyna’s frantic ears. The cemetery was spinning around her dizzyingly. She felt ready to faint until Zander’s arm slid up around her back, resting gently against the opposite side of her neck. “Stay calm,” he whispered. No more than a wispy breeze to her senses. “I will not let anything happen to you, but if you do not regain your senses, you will draw attention to yourself in a manner which I will not be able to talk our way out of.”
He was right. And she knew he was, but it was easier said than done, staring into the blackened eyes of the man she once called her father. There had been a time when she’d been excited to see his face, racing to meet him at the door, wrapping her arms lovingly around his shoulders, and he had done the same to her, smiling at her warmly. They had been a happy family. Or it seemed to her at the time. She was so young then! Her mother had been living in torment every day of her life, married to this man, and loving another; the true father of her child.
“You talk too much, woman,” Damir’s voice cut through Leyna like a knife. It was the voice she remembered from her childhood. Deep and frightening. There was a touch of constant disdain in his tone. “We will discuss the items you are interested in once we have addressed those which I require. Tell me, who is the silent girl standing there behind you?”
“Her?” Oksuva asked, agitated by Damir’s distraction. “That is Eleni. She is one of my husband’s slaves and no one of importance, though all of your men seem enamored by her for some unknown reason.”
For the first time since their arrival, Damir stepped away from the grave he’d been using as a support, moving swiftly past Oksuva to stand in front of Leyna. She shivered. Shrinking back against Zander, she gazed up at him, amazed at his towering height. She always believed him to be tall, but in her mind it had been because she was a mere child when she saw him last. His expression was stern, brows slanted into what almost looked to be a glare, grabbing her chin in his hand to inspect her face more thoroughly.
His skin was cold. Like ice in the warm country breeze.
Turning to Oran, a silent communication seemed to pass between them as Damir made his way back to Oksuva, folding his arms across his chest impatiently. “They have their reasons, as I have mine. Now, tell me of this artifact.”
Mild relief flooded Leyna’s mind. She’d escaped his wrath for now, but there was yet time for him to reveal his true intentions. They were still in the middle of nowhere, far away from help if she were to scream for it, and standing in a place where their bodies could be easily disposed of. Silently she prayed her letter had reached Feolan’s hands so that he would know to become suspicious if they did not return.
“Years ago I was conducting research regarding the war between the Ven’shal and the Vor’shai. While on a dig at one of the historical sites, we uncovered an amulet resembling that which was said to be worn by Arcastus, documented in the journals of several of his men, fitting every detail. We performed extensive testing and examinations, and it has been proven authentic.”
“And what do you know of this amulet?”
“I know it has some link to Arcastus’s spirit, even now, after his death. It contains energy that is more powerful than any of my fellow researchers dared to attempt utilizing. They wanted to destroy it,” Oksuva laughed. “They feared that in the wrong hands it would cause another war to break out. So I stole it to continue my own research. Unfortunately, my abilities with the energy are weakened by the impurity of my heritage. I thought my husband would be able to help, but he showed little interest in it. I am of the opinion he did not believe it to be the real thing.”
Damir thoughtfully stroked his chin, his pale fingers long and slender, like the bones of a skeleton. “So you know essentially nothing?”
“I know that you have been seeking this amulet for decades,” she scoffed. “I know it was your search for it which led to your banishment from Tanispa.”
“Hold your tongue!”
Leyna flinched at the anger in his tone. It brought back the flood of memories in her mind, hearing her mother’s screams. She sensed the treacherous ground Oksuva was treading on bringing up his past. In dealing with Mikel’s worthless lackeys of Ven’shal contacts for so many years, she had no experience in how to handle one like Damir. One who knew the intricacies of the sorcery to the extent of those in legend, who had been forced into hiding on threat of immediate death by the Vor’shai. He was dangerous. And sparking his ire was not something anyone should risk.
“Tell me,” Damir exhaled, his tone calming. “What exactly are you hoping to get out of this – arrangement – for lack of a better term. If I did wish to barter with you for this amulet, what would you ask in return?”
“I intend to be a part of it all. I want to see Arcastus’s body revived from death. And when his army wipes out the Queen and her kingdom in Tanispa, I want to reign at your side. You will need a Queen, and together we could conquer even more than the Vor’shai. We would be like gods.”
Oran barely contained a laugh, turning his face away to regain his composure. Damir smirked in amusement, stepping back over to the grave where he’d stood at their approach and leaning his shoulder against it once again. “That sort of bargain would require a good bit more on your end. I would require more than just the amulet of you in order for that to pique my interest. The negotiation table is open. Feel free to lay out what you are willing to offer.”
“I would offer you my own men to help with the arrangements of reviving the corpse,” Oksuva replied coolly. “It may be necessary that you have good help at your side, given that I have heard your men have proven incompetent in the past.”
“My men? Incompetent?”
Oksuva chortled knowingly, narrowing her eyes at Damir. “It is no secret they failed you in the past. Had it been my men, they would not have let that bastard child of your wife’s live.”
In a flurry of motion Damir was away from the headstone, a dark wave of light shooting from his hands to where Yasar was standing behind Leyna. Instinctively she cried out, cringing away from it, nearly knocking Zander off his feet in her attempt to put distance between it. Yasar’s body fell to the ground with a heavy thud at her feet.
“You speak of
matters you know nothing of, nor are they any of your business,” Damir spat. “Your man is now dead. Tell me how his dying so easily is supposed to make me consider him to be more competent than my own?”
Kneeling down beside Yasar, Leyna placed her fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. There was nothing. His skin remained warm to the touch, but the heart no longer beat in his chest. “He is dead,” she whispered, glancing up to Oksuva and Zander hesitantly.
Damir threw his head back, laughing maniacally. “Of course he is dead!” he shouted. “That is how useless you are to me.” Raising his arms to the sky, a dark aura built over his hands, swirling and thrashing about between his palms. Slowly drawing his hands apart, he let the shadowy substance shift outward, lowering to the ground.
It spread like a wildfire over the grass. Crawling along the headstones, it crept over the granite slabs, sinking down into the earth again before rolling forward, covering everything in its path. Leyna took a step backward to avoid it, barely missing the toes of her slippered feet.
She could sense the uneasiness of everyone in their group. No one knew what to expect. Such power had never been demonstrated to them before, having only witnessed the mere parlor tricks of Mikel and his friends. And they had been considered so powerful! They were capable of nothing more than cheap illusions.
As the darkness passed, a soft, silver light began to lift out of the ground around the headstones, taking on the shapes and forms of what appeared to be people, their features twisted and disproportioned to their bodies. The green of the grass pulled away, dying rapidly, turning deep brown and then brittle black as though burnt. Nourishment from the decaying plants seemed to feed the smoky, lifelike figures, growing and writhing about on the wind.
Each ghostlike form whirled through the air, the faces slowly taking on greater detail while the legs remained tendrils of wispy clouds floating along the ground.
Leyna was too afraid to move. She’d faced many enemies in her lifetime, but never had she been confronted by a creature that no longer belonged to the realm of the living. They lacked in substance, passing eerily through her body as if she wasn’t there, their wide-mouthed expressions locked in silent screams of agony. When they filtered through her skin, she could hear the faint echo of their wailing spirits tugging on her insides. With every pass they grew stronger, striking her with greater force until she could feel the impact, slamming against her chest like a frozen hand.
The figures had them surrounded, jumping from body to body, gathering speed and strength with every round. Fearful, Leyna gathered her energy in a desperate act, pulling it inward and focusing it down to her center, feeling it build between the palms of her hands. Drawing on her internal strength, her shoulders and upper body curved, directing the energy outward in a wave, sending one of the approaching apparitions reeling backward.
With a hiss it regained control, baring its hideously disfigured teeth at Leyna. It was a menacing sight. Ghostly tendrils fluttered out from its skeletal fingers, reaching toward her, taunting her. A whistle passed through it as it inhaled. She stared, unsure of what it was attempting. Spirits had little need for air to breathe, making its actions unnecessary and strained.
A sudden lurching sensation shot through her. Every meridian in her body came to life, the energy flowing outward, away from her center, coursing through her with a speed she’d never experienced, her heart pounding with an unnatural rhythm. Racked by the unseen force, her head snapped backward. Lines of energy began to drift from her body toward the wraithish creature, seeping into its mouth with every breath it drew in. It was like her soul was being sucked from her body. Rendered motionless, she was helpless to the sensation, watching in horror while the others continued to be pushed around by the aimless flight of the spirits.
In a flash, the apparition dissipated before her, leaving behind the hardened features of Damir standing in its place. “Enough,” he murmured, directing the remnants of the spirit toward the ground with a flick of his wrist. “There is something about you which makes me less inclined to see you die just yet. Your friends should consider themselves lucky.”
Released from the invisible hold of the specter, Leyna collapsed to her knees before Damir, panting for breath, her hands clutching at her chest. Her mind reeled from the confusion at what had happened. None of this felt real. It was like something out of a feverish nightmare, haunting her subconscious mind with the unspeakable horrors that could only happen in dreams.
Easily he cast the remaining spirits away, their smoky tendrils floating back down to sink into the earth around the graves. Seeing her on the ground Zander rushed to Leyna’s side, clearly shaken from his own experience. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“She is fine,” Damir said dismissively. “But let that be a warning to you, Oksuva. I don’t take kindly to fools. And you – I think you very well could be one. You try to goad me into giving you what you want by tossing about things from rumors you have heard through questionable sources. I assure you my men are fully competent, and while things may not have gone to my liking in the past, it would not be the case presently. If my men had known then what they do now, they would have laid the entire island of Mialan to ruins. I recommend you not tempt me to prove that.”
“That still leaves the question of what you would give me in return for the amulet,” Oksuva said. Her voice was trembling. “I still desire to have some involvement with the ritual. To at least be witness to Arcastus being restored. I do not think that is too much to ask, but now you have killed one of my husband’s men. How am I to explain that to him? Or do you have the means of returning life to his body as well?”
Looking Yasar’s corpse over derisively, Damir scoffed, prodding it with the tip of his finely polished leather boot. “This creature is not worth the time or effort it would require of me to restore. If your husband demands compensation, have him speak with Kyros. He will work out some manner of payment. As far as the amulet, if all you seek is participation, I see no reason why that cannot be done.”
Oksuva’s smile faltered, the muscles in her face twitching uncomfortably with her attempts to conceal her obvious unease. Leyna wasn’t used to seeing her tip-toe around her words. She was always so free with her voice, now reduced to a shaking, hesitant, mouse of a woman. “I am glad we could come to an agreement then. I suppose all that is left now is to arrange a time and place to carry out the terms.”
“You do not have the amulet with you?”
“I might be a bit rash on occasion, but I am not a complete fool,” she smirked. “One should never bring the goods to the bargaining table. I will provide it to you at the site of Arcastus’s tomb. You are said to be the only one aware of its location and therefore I require that knowledge before I hand it over. It is not that I do not trust you, it is merely that – it is best to never trust anyone when bargaining over life, death, and unimaginable power.”
“She’s not as stupid as she looks,” Damir chuckled, casting a glance over his shoulder to where Oran still stood, unfazed by any of the sights played out before him. “I guess I have no choice then but to agree. I must warn you, though. The tomb is not easy to access. I recommend you leave your feminine fashions in the closet and don more suitable attire for traversing a very unforgiving terrain. Word will be sent to you when I am ready to reveal it. Until then, I suggest you return to your homes. There is nothing else in this desert of any use to us.”
So he had found the tomb. Oksuva spoke of him having clues which would lead them to it, but nothing had been said to imply he was already aware of its location. The pieces of the puzzle were falling together too perfectly for Oksuva. Leyna had been counting on the need to search the tomb out. It would have made it easier to collect the clues and pass them along to the Consul in order to prepare an interception of the body. Without that, it would be too late to stop them once they were standing before it. Damir would be preparing the ritual while they approached. There would be nothing she could do to stop
it once the corpse and the amulet were at Damir’s disposal.
“I will anxiously await your invitation,” Oksuva smiled. The irritation was plain on her face, though she hid it well in her voice. Damir no doubt had noticed it. She wanted everything to be faster. Waiting was not something she was accustomed to and patience was not a virtue which she possessed in abundance.
Pulling the hood of his cloak to cover his face, Damir nodded, motioning toward Oran. They conversed quietly, their backs turned to the others. Leyna strained her ears to hear what was being said, her eyes sweeping over the area in awe and disbelief, mechanically following Zander’s urges to stand her back on her feet.
The grass around the group of headstones remained blackened by the extinguished flow of energy and life through the roots. Dead. The essence of life sucked from it by the blasphemous sorcery. It went against everything the Vor’shai believed. She’d never witnessed it used to such an extreme, but the strength of it had been terrifying. How had the Vor’shai ever combated it all those years ago? Feolan had spoken of the land still being marked with scars of the battle. In her mind she could see the horrible images of lush, green forests transformed into a brown and lifeless wasteland, destroying everything in the path of the magic, without care to the havoc and repercussions it would cause.
She was still lost in her thoughts when she realized Zander was guiding her back through the maze of grave markers toward the carriage, leaving Yasar’s lifeless form lying amongst the deadened earth. “Come on. We need to get back somewhere that will give us some privacy to figure out what we are going to do about all of this,” he whispered, his eyes darting sideways to make sure that no one had overheard his words. “This is even worse than any of us anticipated. A war will be unavoidable unless we can somehow stop this exchange from taking place. Our Queen needs to be made aware so the troops can be rallied and ready. I foresee this could be a very long and bloody battle.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 54
