Sunken Wind

by Sara T K Fehr

  After hours of walking back and forth like some pretentious peacock, she graduated to walking with a series of heavy books atop her head. Milli insisted that it would force her to learn balance, but it felt more like a cruel punishment for all of Amri’s grumbling. She used every moment of her lessons to think of ways to escape. Eventually her thoughts focused on ways that she could get a message to her friends. Perhaps Ezra could magically remove the band, or maybe Miri could use her Sight to see how to remove it. But even if she did manage to send a message outside of the castle, she had no idea where the others were.

  Amri was surprised at how tired she felt by the time lunch was announced and she again was forced to sit across from the King-Regent and his retinue. The five of them continued to ignore her as they talked about the Masquerade and the preparations that still needed to be in place. She wondered how many people would be present as she overheard the absurd number of meals that were to be provided.

  Then she was dragged back into the sitting room with her handmaids. This time they instructed her on how to speak politely. As she walked back and forth with stacks of books on her head, she was made to repeat phrases that were deemed acceptable. She felt like a fool as she was repeatedly instructed to enunciate more clearly and concisely. It wasn’t until she forced herself to try and sound more like Browen that she seemed to make any progress.

  Lessons were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Joslyn gasped and leapt backwards into a deep curtsey as the teal skinned Na’tyr from the King-Regent’s retinue entered. All the handmaids bowed as Lord Zaphir surveyed the room and he sighed as his eyes landed on Amri who refused to bow.

  “The lessons aren’t going well I assume?”

  “We’ve only just begun my Lord.” Milli smiled nervously as she shot a glare at Amri. “We’ve barely started on the basics and have much more to cover.”

  “I refuse to bow to someone who turned me into a slave.” Amri hissed and presented her iron band.

  One of Zaphir’s eyebrows perked up as he addressed Amri. “If you don’t learn to bow by the time the Queen comes, I will have to force you to learn and neither of us want that.”

  Amri glared at the threat but internally knew that she could not resist his charm magic again if it came down to that.

  He then stepped forward, with his hands formally clasped behind his back. “I did try to distract your mind as best I could from the pain. Unfortunately, Ceeril’s methods are intentionally brutal. Regardless, King-Regent Razmir wishes to meet with you.”

  “But Lord Zaphir, we need all the time we can get to train her!” Milli begged nervously.

  “The King-Regent has summoned her.” Lord Zaphir snapped as he shot Milli a glare. “You can resume your lessons after dinner has been served.”

  “Yes, of course… thank you my Lord.” Milli bowed again, even as her brow furrowed into a worried knot.

  “Lady Kirra, if you will.” Lord Zephir held out his arm for Amri to accept and cleared his throat when she refused. “This posturing will get you nowhere, especially with me.”

  Amri huffed and took his arm. While his arms were lean in appearance, she could feel firm muscles beneath his tailored suit jacket. With her arm secured around his, Lord Zaphir led Amri from the room and into the hall.

  “I have heard that you’re looking for ways to escape.” He purred as they walked along the purple and gold carpeted halls.

  She tried to conceal her surprise at the comment. Perhaps he was the one who could turn invisible, along with his charm abilities. The thought made her wonder if Ralis could learn to do that one day.

  “You should know that there are none, not while King-Regent Razmir is on the throne.” He gave a bored sigh as they turned down another hall. “Everything will be easier for everyone if you just behave. I have too many responsibilities to follow you around and keep your attitude in check.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Amri snapped.

  His arm tightened around hers, but he did not answer as they continued deeper into the castle. Finally, they entered an elaborate study, with floor to ceiling bookshelves filling the walls and a massive desk buried in papers. Seated in the red and gold lounge, before the roaring fireplace, was the King-Regent. He swirled a crimson liquid around a crystal glass and looked up with a smirk as Lord Zaphir and Amri entered.

  “That wasn’t so bad now was it?” King-Regent Razmir took a sip from his glass.

  “For future reference, I am not some errand boy.” Lord Zaphir sighed audibly as he finally released Amri’s arm. “I have things I need to accomplish and that is on top of this elaborate Masquerade of yours.”

  The King-Regent ignored Lord Zaphir’s complaint as he eyed up Amri and patted the seat next to him. “Come and sit with me pet.”

  Amri crossed her arms and glared at his cocky expression. Lord Zaphir sighed one more time and stepped around Amri to sit at the desk. King-Regent Razmir’s smirk grew at Amri’s defiance.

  “You are an interesting one, don’t you think so Zaphir?”

  Without looking up from his work the teal skinned Na’tyr replied. “She is different from most of your pets, yes.”

  “Sit.” King-Regent Razmir commanded.

  His voice was laced with a darkness that shot terror all through her body and she felt herself shake at the command. Her body moved without her permission and she gasped as she took the seat next to him. It was a different sort of coercion than the charms that Ralis or Lord Zaphir had used on her, but it was undoubtedly a similar kind of magic. Unnatural fear had torn through her and she could not resist the command. Unlike the charms of the other two, King-Regent Razmir’s ability did not hide what it was doing.

  “That’s better.” He purred wickedly then took another sip from his glass. “And yet for as interesting as you are, you are still nothing, no one of importance.” He looked Amri up and down with a cruel glare. “Tell me pet, what makes you Humans so special? Why would someone choose a pathetic weak creature like yourself?”

  Amri tried to move but was frozen by King-Regent Razmir’s stare. The fear that he had magically drawn out of her was still present. She didn’t understand how to answer his question and shuddered as he leaned closer to her.

  “Your kind are so plain to look at, hideous really. It’s a wonder that you procreate as much as you do.” He hissed; the alcohol thick on his breath. “Or perhaps the bedroom is where your talents lie? Should we find out?”

  Amri felt the colour drain from her face as King-Regent Razmir finished his drink and set it on the side table. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord Zaphir look up from his paperwork with an exhausted expression.

  “No… it isn’t that.” King-Regent Razmir shook his head as he grabbed the mostly empty bottle from the table and finished it in a single deep swig. “I’ve had plenty of you Humans and none have impressed me. Zaphir, bring me another bottle.”

  “I am not your servant Razmir.” Lord Zaphir hissed from the desk. “And don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  “Not on this day.” King-Regent Razmir snarled as he threw the empty bottle into the fireplace.

  “Razmir!” Lord Zaphir stood and glared at the monarch. “It has been twenty years, have you not mourned enough?”

  “Twenty years.” The King-Regent mused as his gaze returned to Amri. “Perhaps you’re right and I won’t find what I’m looking for.”

  Lord Zaphir sat back down again but kept his eyes locked on the King-Regent.

  “Then again what does it matter.” King-Regent Razmir sighed and his expression turned bitter. “What does any of this matter… I’ve lost so much, made too many mistakes, there is no going back now. I know that some call me the Mad King.” He gave a deep booming laugh that shook Amri to the core. “Madness... is that all that I am now? If so, then why not embrace it! After all, none of this matters.” He grabbed Amri’s chin and
pulled her face close to his. “It would be so easy for me to kill you or tear your clothes off and have you right here. There would be nothing you could do to stop me. You are mine; I own you.”

  Amri felt for her daggers beneath the layers of her skirts and glared back at him. She would not go down without a fight. But before she could pull one of them free, he released her chin and looked towards the fireplace.

  “Sing for me.”

  Amri blinked. “What?”

  “SING!” He commanded in that deep voice of his that made her spine tingle with absolute dread.

  Amri felt her mouth open, as she was compelled by the magic of his voice. She didn’t know any songs and tried to recall at least the rhythm of one of Ralis’s tunes. Her singing voice was weak with both fear and a lack of confidence. She made up the words as she went and was all too aware of how pathetic she sounded. After less than a minute of her attempt, the King-Regent turned his snarl back on her and clasped a hand over her mouth.

  “Somehow you’re worse than the last.” He sighed. “Do what you want with her Zaphir, I’m going to visit the dungeons.”

  At his comment Lord Zaphir looked up with an anxious expression. “Is that such a good idea Razmir?”

  “I can think of no other place I would rather be right now.” He snarled gloomily and left the room.

  Amri looked at Lord Zaphir as he watched the door with a torn expression. The two sat in silence for a long moment. Amri still felt shaken by the encounter and stayed frozen in place as she waited for Lord Zaphir to remember her presence. After a long sigh, Lord Zaphir returned his gaze to his papers and waved her off.

  “Do whatever you wish with the rest of the afternoon. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Amri took in a deep breath of relief at the instruction and hurried out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Browen

  Browen found that he had little in common with the other new recruits. Aside from his skill in the combat ring, they had little to talk about during meals. Breakfast was the same as before, eggs and toast. It was clear from the conversations around him, that Browen was the only noble born in the group and the only one to have come from any sort of wealth. Most of the young soldiers came from the many farms of Esper and others from the poor merchant class of the cities.

  The mess hall was massive, and the tables were divided into the many units that the barracks served. Out of all the tables, the recruit’s table was the most empty, but the most rowdy. Then there were the long crowded tables for the six districts of the city and several tables dedicated to the soldiers who patrolled the nearby countryside. A few tables had been assigned to those in mid training and about to be sent off to the various fronts of the war. At the head of the room was the only table turned horizontally and seated there were the officers and commanders of the barracks. Browen had learned during his short time training at the barracks, that the Na’tyr all held positions of authority and the leaders among them were known as Commanders. While most Humans were kept to lesser roles, a few did hold the title of Officer. But they always reported to a Na’tyr Commander.

  At the head table, Browen recognized Commander Althis as he spoke with a large green skinned Na’tyr with no wings or tail. There was no sign of the soldiers or the many Na’tyr that served at the castle and Browen wondered where they stayed.

  “Hello? Percy Brown, you there?” Karl, one of the boys sitting next to Browen, punched his shoulder.

  “Ow!” Browen turned to Karl who laughed at his reaction and felt his cheeks go red. He had nearly forgotten about his fake name. “What is it?”

  A red headed boy, Timmons, a little further down then asked a question. “I said that I heard you were looking to serve at the castle. Now why would you want to go and do that? You scared of dying?”

  Browen gave the red head an incredulous look. “Are you not? I know I don’t want to die.”

  Some of the boys snickered at Timmons in agreement with Browen, and the redhead frowned. “That wasn’t the question! Are you a coward or something?”

  “No.” Browen frowned back. “I… I have always wanted to see the inside of a castle.” He felt awkward lying. And yet, as unnatural as it felt, he found that he had been doing it a lot since Miri came into his life.

  “Is that why you talk all fancy?” Daryl, who sat across from Browen, asked with his fork pointed in suspicion.

  “Yeah, you sound like rich folk.” Sten, a blond boy, sneered. “That’s probably why them officers thought you were that wanted noble boy.”

  Browen blushed, he had hoped that his accent would not have been so obvious. “I uh… I heard they only pick people who fit in with the nobles at the castle. So, I thought if I sounded more like one, I’d get picked.”

  Karl then clapped him on the back. “Well you might be able to sound like one of them nobles, but you don’t look it. I checked that wanted poster after yesterday and you look nothing like that noble boy. You’re too plain, too normal looking.”

  “Nah, you seen some of them nobles when they’re not dressed up all fancy?” Daryl laughed. “Some of them are uglier than you!”

  “Hey!” Karl glared back at the insult.

  The table laughed and Browen couldn’t help but join in. The comradery felt nice, even if it was built on lies.

  Daryl then leaned in close and whispered as the laughter faded around them. “I can handle them nobles, at least they’re Human, they’re mortal. But those… those Demons… I can’t stand them. I hate the way they think that they’re better than all of us.”

  “They are better.” Yorrik, on Browen’s other side, whispered back. “They have power that no Human has ever had, they are stronger, faster, and immortal.”

  “I didn’t think it was possible to beat one of them in a fight until I saw Percy take on Commander Althis!” Karl beamed. “That was amazing!”

  “I got lucky.” Browen replied modestly. “He wasn’t expecting me to know what I was doing.”

  “Still, those Demons will be the death of Esper.” Daryl continued. “They stole our country from us and have been poisoning it. The nobles don’t care because they’re getting rich off our suffering and we poor folk are forced to join some Demon Queen’s war!”

  A tense silence fell over the table as heads nodded in agreement. Eyes darted to the long table of Na’tyr and everyone finished their meal anxiously. Yorrik, despite being one of the more quiet people at the table, desperately broke the silence after a few minutes of it.

  “So, Percy is here because he wants to see how the rich live, I guess. What about the rest of you? Why are you here?”

  “I want to fight!” Timmons punched into his hand with a wild grin. “Dad always said I’m a good scrapper, now I get to put it to use.”

  “Good? Not from what I’ve seen.” Teased Daryl.

  “Let’s go into the yard right now and I’ll show you!” Timmons snapped back.

  Yorrik ignored the brewing fight and continued in a soft tone. “My family needs the money; I’ve been sending them every coin that I’ve earned since being here. I only hope it’s enough.”

  “Me too.” Karl answered. “You know that the crown takes eighty percent of what the farmers produce? What we have left is only enough to feed our families and then we have nothing to sell. My dad has been breaking his back trying to keep the farm together without any gold. When I heard that soldiers get paid a salary, I joined to help out.”

  “Does the crown not pay the farmers for what it takes?” Browen asked.

  “Oh, they pay, just not what the crops are worth, especially with the famine in Madaria. We farmers should be well off in times like these, not struggling to get by.” Karl frowned at his plate.

  “You’re a soldier now, not a farmer.” Sten reminded.

  “Yeah, I know.”

 
Browen looked pensive down at his own empty plate. Esper had appeared prosperous as they entered, but now he wondered what the reality of that was.

  A horn sounded to announce the end of breakfast. All the soldiers stood to leave, when one of the few Humans at the head table, Officer Korrigan, stood and addressed the room.

  “Before you leave, I have an announcement to make. The following individuals have been chosen as candidates in serving our Lord, King-Regent Razmir, during the upcoming Masquerade. You will have to meet with Commander Karn from the castle and a representative of the Queen, Commander Illian. If you pass their inspection, you will get the honor of transferring to the Castle for the time being. Now, if your name is called please remain seated, the rest of you can go about your regular activities.”

  The boys gave Browen an encouraging thumbs up as Officer Korrigan began to read out the names on his list. Browen however, felt the colour drain from his face at the mention of Commander Illian. It was impossible that he had survived Ezra’s flame. The fire had destroyed everything and left nothing in its wake. Then again, the heat and light had been so fierce that Browen had to look away while she unleashed her full power on the soldiers of Snows End. He struggled to imagine that anything could have survived. There had been nothing but ash and charred earth after the attack. Surely one of them would have noticed if Commander Illian had fled.

  Browen felt a pat on his back as the name Percy Brown was called and again it took him a moment to realize it was for him. The boys smiled congratulations at him, but he struggled to return it. Internally he debated whether he should try and slip into the training yard with the rest, or leave the barracks entirely. Certainly Commander Illian would recognize him if it really was him.

  Once the list of names ended the mess hall became a flurry of activity as most people hurried to leave. Before the opportunity passed him by, Browen decided to try and slip out with the others, when a hand fell upon his shoulder.