“Goddess, your Raven Nation King has already begun to oversee such,” a Zaith soldier called out.
I dismounted the elephant and cautiously approached him.
“My Raven Nation King?” I tensely asked, feeling certain the man meant Pariah. I wouldn’t stand for him allowing the soldiers to think he held some power equal to my own. It would be mutiny in a matter of days.
“Yes, Goddess. The man with the silvery eyes and pale skin.”
Eryx, I thought to myself. My head instinctively swiveled toward the prisoner pen they had made of sharpened bamboo reeds.
“Hm,” I murmured without commitment.
A young Savageland girl ran forth and announced, “Goddess, your chambers have been cleared. A bath is being drawn for you as we speak.”
If she wasn’t life’s joy at that moment, I don’t know what could have been. A bath to soak in, to wash away the past and look to forward to the tomorrows. My people had their home back, now I needed my king.
***
The oils left my skin smelling like sweet tree fruits. Coconut was what my people call them. The Tauranian men had almost made themselves sick eating it and drinking the inner juice.
I could hear a melody coming from a nearby room and followed the gentle percussion. It didn’t sound like any drum I was familiar with.
Cautiously holding the door open, I glanced within and started to enter. Each downward pass of Eryx’s blade caused the metal to scrape louder against the stone, its strangled hissing straddled satisfaction and madness. Awilda was perched atop a trunk near the corner. Her heels methodically thumped against either side of it while she swayed to the choir of their combined efforts.
The smile on her face spread, and she reached up to flip a few errant locks from her face. It wasn’t a smile of recreation. It was one of justice. The wooden beads decorating her hair scattered against each other when they landed, creating a noise that mimicked the rattle of serpents.
“Awilda, could you give us a moment?” I asked without taking my eyes off Eryx.
“Of course, Goddess.” She bowed and gave a final thump as she hopped from the trunk. Her mood was eerie. The woman was usually so serious and reserved. A representation of wisdom and combat experience.
“What are you doing?” I asked once she had gone.
His eyes shifted toward me, but the blade never stopped singing. I reached out and clamped my hand around the arm that was setting the motion.
“He is your father?” I asked, finally recognizing the similarity of their hazy silver eyes.
“He needs to be put from his misery.” Eryx hastily replied.
“You sound like Kais right now.”
“My father was much, much worse than Kais’, trust me,” he growled.
My eyes widened. I had never seen him like this. He was the minister of knowledge. A man known for his rational and love of peace making.
“You would kill an unarmed prisoner?” I asked, doubting his words were anything past emotion.
“I would kill the man who made my mother suffer, yes.”
“Your mother… You’ve never spoken of your mother,” I quietly acknowledged. “He was unkind to her?”
“He owned her,” Eryx spat. He stood up from the trunk.
I put both hands out to silently council patience.
“I don’t understand. Please help me understand so we can discuss this… sensibly.”
“My mother was a Raven until my father came into possession of her. After that, she was his breeder.”
“His breeder,” I repeated. My words sounded like a question, but the fury in my eyes likely said it wasn’t. I struggled to swallow the fact that his father had enslaved a sacred medical woman.
“A Raven…” I tried again, but the words simply stifled. My mother had told us of such kidnappings and forced arrangements, but I thought it was a crude joke, or perhaps a slander against my father’s people. It’s not often that I’m rendered speechless, but I couldn’t put two words together to caution the man.
“Their lives revolve around heirs and money. In a part of the world where people starve routinely, children become resources. Especially daughters. My mother was daughter number eleven. Her father kept two for trading when they are old enough to betroth. The other nine he sold to the womb smugglers.”
“Womb smugglers…” I hated how dumbfounded I was. It channeled into my voice, and all I could do was repeat his words as they slowly sank in.
“Yes, womb smugglers. They are black market men from the Faustlin territories. There is no allowance for second wives in Faustlin. If the first does not produce offspring, a man is doomed; he cannot rise in the military ranks. To accommodate these cases, the Faustlin law states that an heir is any child that extends the paternal bloodline.”
I had him distracted enough to at least talk to me. I grabbed a bottle of wine from the crate nearby and began to wrestle with the cork. He sank down into a chair that looked hauntingly like the one that had attacked Drayce back in Zaith.
Eryx voice swayed into a raspy, distant sound that echoed over the drink I handed him. He paused and stared into his mug like he was scrying the past.
“Good, noble born women are not often keen to participate in such arrangements. Some men take matters into their own hands and purchase women from the womb smugglers. Clean, young girls who come from proven stock. I am the product of forced breeding, and he is the one that forced himself on my mother.”
I could feel the tears running down his face, even if he turned away from me.
“We will both have justice against our fathers,” I assured him, “…but let us not do so to spite ourselves. I need your brilliance, now more than ever. Can you approach him as you would any condemned man?”
When I worded it that way, the weight of the injury left his eyes. He eagerly nodded his consent, and I lugged him into a side hug.
“I have a plan,” I promised. “I would see our family rule the globe. So that we can all live in peace. As much of a peace as one could hope to find, anyhow. Awilda cannot do it on her own. She is getting older; the people will not respect her as much in a few years. As an elder, yes, but as a warrior…”
“You wish me stay and keep her in power?” he asked, while he sipped from his drink.
“Awilda is a friend, an advisor. I want you to rule the Barizon in my stead. I can’t be everywhere at once, but I have enough Kings that, together, we can do it. There is land here and resources for your research.” I needed one of them to rule it, and he was the only one I knew who would stand a chance of being accepted. He didn’t judge them, he was fair, and he never spoke down on anyone. Together he and Awilda could handle matters between my visits.
“They won’t respect me, Azaria. I’m not a warrior. I hate violence…”
I stole the words from him with my lips. “They respect justice. They need a strong leader to follow.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ryett
“Tell me again, why we are lugging a corpse around in a caged wagon?” Kais huffed, giving the rope a bit of a tug. He had fashioned the man into a standing position, as I instructed, but remained none too happy about it.
“Do you think I was brave enough to ask why she wanted a standing dead man?” I answered his question with one that, in my mind, was twice as ridiculous. Perhaps she had gone mad in the battle.
The doors of the ivory palace flew open. It was a long-carved building that extended into the rocks like a cave. Thayer, Azaria, and the prisoner began to march toward us. Before she arrived, an elephant was led and strapped to the cart. Savages appeared from every direction.
“Lead the procession,” Eryx called in a voice I had never heard him use. It wasn’t a polite request. He had given an order.
I glanced to Kais who stared back in that same expectant manner toward me.
The dead man’s arms flailed a bit with the bumps along the path. It gave the illusion that he might have been alive.
We fel
l into place around Azaria and Eryx, leading the crowd after the cart. We arrived back at the clearing. It was still soiled with remnants of our war. The sun was setting, and the foul odor of death still clung to the air.
Off to the side, someone approached with a torch. It was shoved into a tree stump and lit the scene up as the sun disappeared.
“General Osmond Trevey, you are hereby sentenced to death for crimes committed against the Barizon and the territorial coast. For orchestrating the murder of children and wives.”
I was impressed and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Seers. He hadn’t even slipped and called them women. Who knew what kind of outburst that would have warranted from the crowd.
The sound of fire taking hold drew me from my thoughts. Eryx had taken up an arrow and lit it from the torch. He approached the cart and called out over the buzz of encouraging chatter and approval. “Do you have any last words?”
A hush seized us all. It stretched for the span of a half dozen breaths.
Eryx barked, setting the elephant into motion. It charged full speed ahead. Perhaps thirty yards out, the minister fired the arrow. It struck true, sending the cage into an impressive inferno. The wilder the animal ran to escape the heat, the more the corpse’s arms flopped. It was genius. The animal turned face, and the cart snapped free. In the confusion, it was trampled thoroughly before the animal took to the waterhole in the distance. The crowd went crazy, cheering and applauding.
The prisoner beside us was visibly shaking. Rightfully so. To our left, another elephant approached with an empty cart. Commander Thayer sank to his knees, and quickly began to plead. Eryx and Kais hauled him to the cage and threw his blubbering ass inside.
“Commander Marquis Thayer, you are charged with giving the order that led to said deaths. You also orchestrated the heinous crimes against our people.” Eryx loudly announced.
“Your people,” the man mocked, laughing through his tears.
“Lastly, I charge you with kidnapping, flesh smuggling, womb trading, and the atrocious abuse of a Zaith citizen.”
A wave of tittering fluttered over the crowd, and the man in the cage fell silent.
“Eryx,” he quietly begged while Eryx lit another arrow.
The minister kept his attention on the condemned. The rage in the depths of Eryx’s eyes was palpable, but even more, I could feel the bottomless pain of his youth.
“I will do anything,” the man cried.
“Anything?” Eryx challenged.
“Yes, yes! Please!”
“You will return home and poison Emperor Octavius’ well to spare your own life?”
With tears streaming down his face, his father agreed.
“Kais, help the Commander out of that cage and see that he is well rested for the journey ahead,” Azaria requested.
The cage was opened, and the man reached out to take Kais’ hand. His foot was mid-air to step down, when Kais knocked him unconscious.
Unlike the Tauranian court, the Savages didn’t linger after the show died down. They went back about their business, tending to their chores and children. It was quite refreshing.
With the man over his shoulder, Kais led the procession after Azaria. The rock ramp that took her from the door of the Ivory Palace was steeper than it appeared. Either that, or my legs still suffered from the extreme work out.
Commander Thayer was promptly taken to the back of the palace. Meanwhile, we entered a room that had a slender table in the center. Jars of herbs and powders lined the wall.
“This is beautiful,” Eryx breathlessly announced.
“Send for Awilda, I need reports. How far out can we ride before we meet Faustlin troops? Do you think they will have fallen back?” Azaria fired questions and orders faster than anyone could move or respond.
Kais opened the door, motioned for a warrior, and delivered the order. When he returned his attention to us, he hitched his brows. “I have been doing some scouting since we arrived. Messengers tell me that Octavius is returned to the Coastal Castle.”
“The Coastal Castle? “I repeated, “Why? He will be trapped in.” The castle laid against the Rabid Sea. The only hope one had of escaping would be to pray they landed on the Isle of Tears.
“Who knows? Perhaps an assurance he will not lose your brother. I doubt it is a last stand. Perhaps it is, though, perhaps he knows we will advise her against a head on attack.”
The door opened, but no one readily appeared. We all canted our heads to find Awilda clutching a scroll.
“Get out,” Azaria barked I couldn’t blame her instant distemper. The woman had seen enough devastating official documents to last anyone a lifetime.
“He has promised to take your son if you do not go home and forget about your King.” She tossed the parchment on the table and delivered the summary.
“I will get into the Coastal Castle,” Azaria vowed. “If I have to take the fucking Isle of Tears and confront him from the coast, I will do it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Azaria
I wasn’t aware one could go blind from anger, but when Awilda revealed the threat against my son, all I could see was red. Visions of all the ways I would hurt the Emperor. He no longer deserved to be called a father. He had prostituted me in a roundabout way with the Delucres. When I landed on my feet instead of drowning, he continued to try and take every little happiness I found. My son far surpassed any such happiness. I would conquer the world ten times over to assure his safety. More importantly, however, I held no doubt that he would never be safe. Not with my father breathing.
Octavius would make it his business to control me or DeHaven. Apparently, he now realized I could be controlled through DeHaven. Well, that was what he expected, anyhow. I was through with that life. The Emperor could understand, or he could be exterminated like the parasite that he was. I would have left him his precious Faustlin if it hadn’t spread like a disease into my own life, and those of my people. Who could stand by and allow such atrocities to continue? Even on the most basic of human levels, his reign had to end.
I glanced to the dresser and spotted my Caul crown while plotting my coup. It was the only answer. I sank down onto the chaise, thankful for the moment of solitude and silence.
Even acknowledging the peace was like cursing it to extinction. My door rumbled, but before I could raise to answer it, Pariah let himself in. My eyes bugged at his boldness, and I grabbed the dagger from the dresser.
He laughed, a throaty antagonistic sound that dwindled into a grin. His hands came up in front of him in surrender. “I mean no harm, Goddess. I come only to bring you a gift and to offer a service, if you will.”
I could barely bring myself to look at him, let alone trust him, after discovering him an assassin.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, unable to keep my face from scrunching with impatience.
“Half of my family is on the Isle of Tears. Exiled over the years,” he purred, like I was expected to be hypnotized by this bait he offered. It sounded amazing, but my mother always had a saying about things being too good, to be true.
I thrust my brows up a bit more to convey my displeasure at his verbal dance.
“I will get them to help, to order the others to help… if you promise that you will not show mercy when you find him. If they see you show mercy to the man who caused their misery, they will turn on you,” He gravely advised.
I could feel my face softening, but my guard was still up. He must have known it. He rose from his squatted position and returned to the door.
“This way,” he waved. “This way, my friend.”
“What the…what are you doing?” I demanded.
Pariah stepped out the door, and a figure with a shaved, bowed head stepped inside. The shoulders were slumped until I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Whatever it was, it was haggard and dirty.
“Get out!” I screamed.
The man flinched, drawing his blood-stained hands up to his chest. Te
ars glossed over the soulful blue eyes and immediately began to spill from my own.
“Ryver?” I whispered.
“It is easy to steal a prisoner. Much, much harder to get close to a sovereign. We shall speak later, Goddess?” Pariah poised the query and began to shut the door without waiting for an answer.
I couldn’t have given one anyhow. My feet were stuck to the floor. The world was spinning, and I feared I would pass out again, before the spell broke and I lurched toward him.
He wasn’t strong enough to support us both. We crashed to the floor, and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. Neither of us were able to communicate intelligibly, but the way we looked at each other between embraces said it all. His head retired to my shoulder, and I could tell from the weight of it that he wasn’t able to hold it up anymore.
“Awilda” I cried, “Someone get Awilda.”
It seemed like an eternity, but Awilda was ushered into the room. Her jaw dropped, and her knees hit the floor beside us.
“It is him! Let’s get him to the bed,” she urged.
Once he was there, I was afraid to touch him. My breath hitched, I hadn’t even realized I was holding it. The most beautiful man in Tauran, was battered, unrecognizable, and it was my father who had done it.
“Wash him.” Awilda softly whispered, pressing a rag into my hand. She did it for me, not because she couldn’t, but because the woman knew me well enough to know that I was on the verge of losing myself.
“I am going to go behind you, and search over him for wounds.” She explained.
The only thing I took comfort in was the fact that he did not appear to be pained. Not for the moment at least. The deep state of consciousness saved him that much, I supposed. “His ribs have been broken,” she announced before tipping his chin. When the light hit his cheek, I could see a healed scar that stretched across the fleshy part. “His fingers…”
I glanced to his bandaged hands. The fingers were angled differently, like the gnarled digits of an old man. His blue gaze shifted, and tears threatened anew. He turned the scar away from us and buried his head in the pillow He was always so beautiful and yet so vain. Was it possible that injury had wounded him the deepest?
Of Coups and Cauls Page 8
