“Why are you wasting your time with these insects?” Una asked Bijarki, aiming her arrow at the back of the second incubus’s head.
The metallic tip poked his skull, making him squirm.
“We can finish them off quickly,” she added.
“Please don’t,” Bijarki raised his arms in a peaceful gesture. “They have information we might need. You can kill them later. For now, they’re still useful.”
Una shook her head and took a step back, then nodded at both her sisters. They put their bows and arrows away, while Anjani and I kept our crossbows focused on the incubi. We glanced at each other, and I noticed the shadow of a smile passing over her face. We made a pretty good team.
“As you wish,” Una replied. “Then let’s move on to the next order of business. What business do you have at the river, Bijarki?”
“We’re here on behalf of the last Druid standing against Azazel. We seek an alliance with the Lamias to end that monster once and for all,” he said.
The Lamias’ eyes flickered black for a second, their lips stretching into three smiles.
“You mean to tell us there is still one Druid out there who hasn’t turned into a filthy and sterile Destroyer?” Lira asked, her voice sweet as honey.
“Sterile?” I asked.
“You think we’d be in this predicament of utter extinction had we been able to bear our offspring from Destroyers?” Una replied. “Whatever Azazel does to them, they can no longer seed new life. We’ve tried. They like our bodies, but they cannot help us conceive, so we keep our distance.”
That was a very interesting development, one I was sure Draven would want to hear. It meant that he was the only real Druid left in Eritopia. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy, being one of the last of his kind.
“Where is this Druid?” Una asked with newfound interest.
“Right now, I believe he’s about to rescue Sverik from Azazel’s dungeons and gain tremendous tactical advantage in the upcoming war,” Bijarki replied.
“I wouldn’t rush into trusting that two-faced bastard,” Una said with disgust. “He’s as loyal as a snake, good as long as there’s something in it for him.”
“No one is rushing into anything, but he is our only hope to gain the support of rebel troops scattered across Eritopia,” Anjani interjected.
A moment passed as the three Lamias nodded and looked at each other, as if communicating with no words.
“We’ll take you to the River Pyros,” Una eventually said. “Our mistress will want a word with you.”
Bijarki took a bow, smiling at them.
“You are too kind. Thank you.”
“You are quite famous around here, son of Boovar,” Lira noted admiringly. “He sided with the enemy, but you chose to fight and defend these lands. We have a soft spot for rebels, you see.”
“I’m flattered and grateful,” he said, looking at Anjani and me.
“Don’t be,” Una cut in. “If our mistress is unhappy with the terms of your proposed alliance, if either of you makes the wrong move or tries something against us, we will slit your throats and bleed you dry, regardless of your rebel fame.”
The chilling statement came out in a polite tone, accompanied by a dry smile that sent shivers down my spine. I took a deep breath and kept my guard up, my senses flaring and picking up the scents and heartbeats of both hostiles and potential allies.
“Rest assured, that will not be the case,” Bijarki replied bluntly.
“We shall see,” Una shot back, then pointed at the incubi. “Since you decided to keep these rats alive, you get to keep an eye on them till we get to the camp.”
We looked at the incubi, who wore the most desperate of expressions on their faces, their wide gray eyes begging us for mercy. I groaned and fetched two lines of rope from my horse’s saddle, handing one to Anjani. We both moved to tie the incubi’s hands behind their backs.
Bijarki nodded. “Like I said, we’ll spare them for now. They have information we may need.”
Phoenix
I was upstairs in the attic with a couple of pillows and the Daughter. I figured I’d keep her close and comfortable since she had a peculiar habit of passing out when I had a vision. I let her relax on the pillows, while I prepared myself.
I followed the Druid’s advice and focused on specific snippets of the past during my visions. I wanted to find out more about what had driven Azazel over the edge, which inadvertently took me to a grandiose feast inside a massive dinner hall. Its domed ceiling was as tall as that of a Renaissance cathedral adorned with massive arches and sumptuous sculptures of Eritopian deities, hybrids of various animals carved into the white marble.
Seven enormous pillars supported the dome, sculpted in the form of the seven Daughters of Eritopia and painted in gold and lavish purple. They were accurate representations of the goddesses. They held their arms up, supporting the ceiling and the plethora of marble creatures of Eritopia’s diverse fauna across all the planets.
Ample chandeliers made with fine brushed brass and crystals hung from above, with hundreds of pink and yellow flames flickering where candles were supposed to be mounted. I chalked it up to magic and moved forward into the banquet hall. Twenty doors were carved into the circular white marble wall. They were made from solid purple wood and decorated with delicate gold floral motifs.
In the middle was a thick gold disc, serving as a platform for a superb dining table. Dinner was set for twenty, with beautiful china plates, gold-plated cutlery, silk napkins, and crystal glasses. Pink and yellow flames flickered in triple candelabra emerging from rich floral arrangements. It was an arrangement designed for royalty.
One of the doors opened. The sound of thunder and strong winds echoed from beyond. A tall man walked in. Behind him I saw darkness with specks of stardust, as if the cosmos waited in the room from which he’d emerged. He closed the door behind him and locked it with a large key, beautifully crafted with gold and fine gems. He dropped it in the pocket of his black overcoat.
The man seemed familiar, so I stepped forward to get a better look, following him as he walked up to the table. Two silhouettes emerged from the walls, ethereal figures made of white smoke that moved toward the man, bowing before him. He smiled, removing his coat and handing it to one of the creatures, while the other pulled out his chair.
He sat down. The creatures moved across the room to hang the coat behind a decorative panel made of colorful stained glass with a solid gold frame. Pitchers of water appeared on the table out of thin air, and the man poured himself a drink. The medium, sand-colored hair; his gray eyes and sharp features; and his Cupid’s bow lips and broad shoulders instantly rang a bell. I was standing next to a much younger Almus, Draven’s father.
He wore an elegant suit that reminded me of 18th century attire. He wore feather pants and a vest made of fine black velvet matched with red leather boots, a white cotton shirt, and a crimson bow tie. He went through two glasses of water in absolute silence before the sound of another door opening made us both turn our heads.
Another man walked in. Judging by his appearance, I assumed he was also a Druid. He was slightly shorter than Almus but still taller than average with a narrow waist and slender arms and legs. His sartorial tastes seemed to have a flair for the dramatic, fitting red leather trousers with lateral laces tied all the way down to his black knee-high boots. A loose white shirt and a matching red leather vest displayed a multitude of insignia mounted on his chest, and over the whole ensemble, he wore a red leather cape. He handed the cape to the smoky servants, now multiplied by two and quietly hovering around the dinner hall.
The Druid grinned at the sight of Almus. His amber eyes and long black hair were caught in a ponytail. A trimmed mustache and beard masked some of his features, contrasting with his white teeth.
“Almus! Long time, good friend!” the Druid exclaimed, walking up to Draven’s father.
Almus stood to shake his hand, then resumed his seat. He didn’t s
eem very happy to see Mr. Drama-Suit, but offered a polite smile nonetheless.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Azazel.”
My stomach dropped as I realized that I was in the presence of pre-Destroyer Azazel. He seemed friendly and chatty and certainly nothing like the dark monster he’d become. I balled my fists and gritted my teeth. I was barely holding it together. Then I remembered that I was nothing but a ghost there, unable to do anything to prevent all the horrors that Azazel would become famous for.
“When was the last time we saw each other, Almus? Your inauguration day?”
Almus nodded with a nostalgic smile, as Azazel took a seat next to him and poured himself a glass of water infused with red rose petals.
“It seems only yesterday, though,” Azazel added. “You were so green and sweaty and nervous as they handed you the keys to the seventh kingdom of Eritopia!”
“I was lucky,” Almus replied.
“No, my friend. You earned it!”
Azazel rolled his sleeves up, revealing dozens of thick rings tattooed on his forearms, from his wrists all the way to the elbows. He showed them to Almus, beaming with pride.
“You earned it, my friend. All one hundred rings adorn your arms as they do mine, symbols of the highest rank among the Druids. You are the rightful ruler of the seventh kingdom. It had nothing to do with luck, and you know it. Stop being so modest! It will get you nowhere!”
Almus laughed.
“How have you been? How is your first year as one of us? Finding your little slice of Eritopia manageable?” Azazel grinned.
“It hasn’t been easy, I have to admit. I may be in charge of the smallest of our twenty planets, but believe me when I say that Persea as a kingdom is quite the handful. I’ve been dealing with a lot of corruption. I’ve just cleaned out the agricultural department, demoting all the chiefs to field labor as they were practically holding the meat farms hostage for unnecessary fees.” Almus sighed.
“I can’t say mine has been any easier. But we’ve been making great progress. I look forward to sharing it with the council,” Azazel replied.
Almus gave him a weary look. “I’ve heard you say this before, and it has always ended in heated discussions and you walking out filled with rage. Please tell me you’ve run everything through the council, as per the rules, and that you haven’t made infrastructure and legislative changes without telling us first,” he said.
Azazel’s laughter sounded tense, with an undertone of contempt. “Oh, please, Almus, as if these old fools will ever accept anything that goes beyond camp fires and burning coal! Traditionalists will be the end of us if we don’t take executive action, and you know it.”
A third door opened, then a fourth, followed by the rest, until twenty Druids, both men and women, walked in from what I assumed were the twenty planets, or kingdoms, of Eritopia. The doors were probably magical portals through which they could all meet in this massive hall. I started wondering in which kingdom my friends and I had been stranded and which of these Druids had once been in charge of it. Cooped up in the mansion for so long, it was easy to forget that Eritopia was much bigger than the small piece I’d seen on a map – that it was an entire galaxy and that we’d only seen parts of the planet Calliope, our temporary home.
The Druids all gathered around the table, taking their seats and nodding at each other politely. They smiled stiffly and made empty compliments. One of them, a beautiful blonde with hazel green eyes, passed next to Almus, prompting both him and Azazel to spring to their feet and bow with reverence. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who it was, until I saw the looks between her and Almus. It made sense then—her firm cheeks and the shape of her eyes, even her smile; they all echoed in Draven.
His mother.
I walked closer for a better look. She wore a pale blue dress. The silk poured down her perfect hourglass body. A large platinum belt framed her tiny waist, and a myriad of diamonds glistened around her neck and wrists. Her arms were covered in the same tattoos as Azazel, symbols of her high rank among the Druids. She sat next to Almus, but they didn’t touch each other. I had a feeling they had yet to take that step.
And judging by Azazel’s lovestruck look, she had captured the hearts of many before she married Almus.
I hung around for a while, listening in on their conversations. I successfully learned the names of all former rulers of Eritopia and the twenty Druids who controlled each of the galaxy’s planets. I learned that Calliope with Mount Agrith, the birthplace of the Daughters, had once belonged to Genevieve, Draven’s mother. It was the largest of all twenty and with the most fruitful soils, at a perfect distance from the In-Between’s sun. Azazel’s was the closest to the center of the constellation, and the third smallest based on descriptions I’d plucked from their conversations. It was called Purgaris, and it sounded a lot like a literal hell, hot and scorching. Almus’s planet, called Persea, was the smallest but a haven for Druids. It held the Grand Temple, where all Druids were taught the ways of natural and dark magic and where they received their ceremonial ranking tattoo rings.
Eritopia suddenly seemed gargantuan in size, and I felt curious enough to visit all twenty of these planets—provided we survived the impending war with Azazel. I spent a hefty amount of time around him, Almus, and Genevieve. I started to understand that he’d always been ambitious and generally unhappy with the size of his kingdom. I’d landed in the early days with this vision, when he hadn’t yet begun to dismantle the Druid society.
But he was stubborn and proud, always looking to gain more without bothering with the rules. His political and territorial greed seemed to hassle Almus and downright infuriate Genevieve, who poured herself another glass of rose-infused water and sternly reprimanded him.
“You can’t just change the military laws in your kingdom, Azazel. You don’t own that planet. You’re merely an elected official, tasked with its administration. You’re not its king, even if it is called a kingdom! You’re a Master Druid, like the rest of us!” she snapped.
“Genevieve, I meant no harm, and no harm was done!” Azazel defended himself. “I merely changed the enrollment age for the army! My incubi are all eager to train, to join my ranks and serve their land. What’s the big deal?”
“You didn’t run it by us, Azazel, and you know the council laws very well, since you’re an expert at breaking them!” she replied bluntly.
A moment passed before Azazel spoke again, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
“By the Daughters, I swear, if you weren’t so stunning I’d have a lot more to say about your council laws.” He smiled.
Azazel really did have the hots for Draven’s mother. I recognized the oafish look on his face as she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it over one shoulder to reveal her long, delicate neck. Almus couldn’t take his eyes off her either, but his poker face was good enough to keep suspicions at bay. She occasionally glanced his way, a faint smile passing over her face.
“I’ve known you since you were a little boy, Azazel. That beard won’t fool me!” She grinned at him.
Azazel didn’t take it well, his smile dropping as he was reminded that he was much younger than the woman he seemed to love, as if it made him unfit to be with her. Truth be told, he didn’t look younger, but given Druid ages, a few centuries probably didn’t make a difference in terms of wrinkles on their kind. Most of them looked to be in their mid-thirties, and I had no skill at guessing their real ages.
“Like that matters. I’m more than you give me credit for,” Azazel mumbled, a muscle tightening in his jaw.
“You’re an extraordinary Druid, Azazel. But you have to follow our rules. They’re there for a reason,” Genevieve replied. “I share your progressive views for the most part, as we all want what is best for all of Eritopia, but you cannot draft prepubescent incubi just because they’re eager to serve you. They’re far too inexperienced and have so much to learn before you hand them a sword. You should have run t
his by the council.”
“Well, it’s done now. Give me a slap on the wrist and let’s be done with it.” He smirked.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Almus said, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “The council is unhappy with your decision, and a motion has been filed to reverse your legislative changes regarding the draft of young incubi. Only those above the age of adolescence can serve in the armies of Eritopia.”
Azazel shot Almus a glare, and shivers ran down my spine. He stood up, furiously glancing at all the Druids seated around the table.
“Is that true?” Azazel’s voice echoed through the hall.
An elder Druid stood up, his fingers playing with a strange medallion, a snake made of gold twisted in the shape of the number eight with small ruby eyes. It moved slowly, endlessly in its double loop, as if the precious metal were liquid.
“Indeed, it is, Azazel of the Third Kingdom,” he said. “Without proper law and order, there will be chaos. If you wish to change any law in your district, you must propose it to the council first. Otherwise, it will be declared null and voided.”
“This is unbelievable!” Azazel roared and slapped a few plates off the table.
Everyone jumped at the sound of porcelain shattering on the floor. None seemed used to violent behavior. Azazel’s rage seemed to make them nervous and uncomfortable. The elders, in particular, avoided eye contact with the furious Druid, their lips constricted into thin lines.
Almus frowned and stood to face him. “Please control yourself,” he commanded, his voice cold and heavy.
“After you’ve all made me look like an absolute fool in front of my people by reversing a law I set myself? You must be joking!”
“We’ve gathered here in peace, and your anger is misguided. You shouldn’t have changed the law without the council’s approval in the first place. This is merely a repercussion.”
A Ride of Peril Page 14
