by C B Samet
As a boy, there may have been times I’d wanted to hurt Orrick, but never had I contemplated murder. It seemed Porter was made of the same decayed morality as his father.
Emerald continued, “So, replacing King Artemis with Porter and getting myself beheaded in the process seemed counterproductive.”
“How will Abigail escape?”
“In time, angel. In time.”
“My name is Malakai.”
“Malakai. We will find the opportune moment. But first, the ships are almost ready. We sail to Crithos in a week.”
After leaving Emerald, I appeared inside Orrick’s home accompanied by Snake Eyes. Afternoon sun lit the kitchen where Orrick stirred a pot of soup. The kitchen counter was littered with remnants of chopped vegetables. The entire scene encompassed peaceful serenity in stark contrast to activity a continent away.
“Oh, brother, what news?” Orrick asked.
“I’m sure Snake Eyes told you some of what’s happening.”
Orrick gave a solemn frown as he turned back to stirring his soup. “He told me the Queen is dead and the Champion fights for her life.”
“It’s barbaric,” I growled. “They fight her in an arena with a crowd hungry for the death of a Crithian. It’s bloodthirsty madness.”
Orrick blinked at me with infuriating calmness. “You blame yourself?”
“I’m supposed to be protecting the world from destructive behavior. I’m the Prince of Darkness—as Abigail calls me. If I can’t even do what I’m designed to do because of the damaged scepter, what use am I?”
“Your job was to be Malos, but that is no longer your purpose.”
I stared at him.
He explained: “When the volcano cracked the stone, the Prince of Darkness ceased being your role. You aren’t to blame for that so…” He stepped closer to me and softened his voice. “…let go of Malos. Embrace Mal, the indispensable apparition of The Avant Champion.”
I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “I’m trying. I’m snooping around the castle. I’m spying on the King. I’m eavesdropping on conversation.” I created a chair and flopped into it. “I’ve seen their shipyard. They’ve a fleet of massive wooden and metal ships. They could lose half of them at sea and still have enough to conquer Crithos. It’ll be a massacre, and unless Abigail can escape—with her stone—there’ll be no stopping them.”
Orrick scooped a ladle into the soup and poured it into a bowl. As the steam rose, I tried to imagine what it might smell like. Garlic and chives? Basil and pesto? I didn’t experience hunger, but the only time I ate was in the form of Malos. During those times, I was barely myself as I pulsated with evil. I didn’t enjoy food, though Malos ate. I didn’t enjoy the fragrance of food, though Malos smelled. When my cup runneth over with evil, I could barely restrain Malos enough that the Avant Champion—be it Abigail or her five predecessors—could defeat me.
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Orrick scolded.
I sat straight and crossed my arms.
Orrick sat at the table and blew on a spoonful of soup. “You need to do all of those things—espionage and scheming escape—but you also need to support Abigail.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
Snake Eyes pretended to sit on the table and crossed his legs.
“You’re helping,” Orrick continued, “but I’m referring to emotional support. When you show up to her… Where is she being held?”
“A cell in a dungeon.”
“…her cell, talking about doomsday, you’ll destroy her hope. You need to be positive.”
“Like you?” My brother had transformed over the millennia to a clever old man, who laughed at himself and the world. He could find cheer in everyday life.
He ate his soup.
My jaw clenched. “If I suddenly turn chipper, Abigail will see through the facade.”
“I’m chipper, as you call it, because I’ve a second chance at life. For thousands of years I thought I’d only ever be a tree, waiting to be chopped down during deforestation of the marsh. Now, every day is a gift.”
I grunted. “Every day, I’m still a ghost.”
“And despite that, you’ve helped Abigail immensely. Anyway, I wouldn’t suggest you go so far as faking cheerfulness you don’t feel—but if you see your time on this planet for the gift that it is, then you won’t have to fake happiness.”
“You’re suggesting I feign happiness, knowing the devastation that bears down on Abigail?”
“I’m suggesting you find something you’re grateful for each day. Then you can at least resume your charming, cavalier persona that she seems to find endearing. Then you can be emotionally supportive in your own way.”
I contemplated his words of wisdom. As he drank his moon juice, he observed me with a glint of satisfaction in his expression. He knew I knew he was right.
“Would you be willing to go to the castle?” I asked.
“Whatever for?”
“Abigail’s daughter is there—Natalie. Abigail would garner some comfort knowing you watched over her.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
“And what of Paul?” Orrick asked.
“She wouldn’t want him anywhere near the castle. He’s safest at her estate. Mo and the other attendants can look after him.”
I stood. “Well, I’m off to more espionage. With a spring in my step and a smile on my face.”
19
ABIGAIL
I drifted in and out of consciousness on the bone-chilling, hard floor, until I finally latched onto sleep enough to visit Coco DeFay in her dreams. I didn’t recognize her at first as she dug her fingers into rich garden soil beside a small, quaint-looking home. Her blonde hair rolled in long, loose waves. She’d had long hair most of the time I’d known her, but she always wore it in a ponytail.
A man stepped out of the house and waved at her with a smile. “Lunch is ready!” The broad-shoulder man had dark hair and a set of deep dimples.
Paul! My hand flew over my mouth. Was this Coco’s ideal life? A home with my deceased brother? He’d been gone almost fifteen years now. There was no time to have a psychologically fruitful conversation with her about this particular topic.
I steeled myself and waded into her dream. “Coco.”
She looked up at me with a puzzled expression.
“I’m invading your dream to bring news from Bellos.”
“You? You can enter dreams?”
“Yes. If you require proof it’s me, then I’ll tell you I’m still impressed with the way you slew that squid—and I’m equally impressed with the stench of what it covered you in.”
Coco pursed her lips in annoyance, stood, and chucked her small shovel into the soft dirt. “Okay, Abigail. What news?”
“Nothing good. The Queen was poisoned in her chamber. She’s dead.”
“Oh, Mount Kapri,” Coco swore.
“We were ambushed, and both Baird and I are prisoners. No Crithian soldiers survived the attack.” Despite her open-mouthed stare, I pressed on. “King Artemis means to conquer Crithos. I don’t know when.”
“You’re a prisoner?”
I was touched she showed compassion for my current predicament, rather than grilling me for more details of the attack. “Yes. Baird and I.”
Her expression became more worried. “Are you injured?”
“Most of the time. I think Baird is worse off than I am. They cut our stars, so I can’t communicate with him. We can’t travel. I don’t have my Warrior Stone.” The hopelessness in my voice was palpable.
She straightened. “We’ll prepare for war. I can send a rescue party.”
I shook my head. “They’d be slaughtered—and I can’t presume to tell you how to manage the news of the Queen’s death. You have no proof other than information shared through a dream. I also don’t know if surrender is a better option.”
She gave me a hard scowl. “Surrender?” She spat out the question.
I ra
ised both hands in the air. “Do what you think is right. Just know that a war with swords cannot be won against Bellosian pistols. It may be better to surrender first and make plans to retaliate later.”
“Can you escape? Your arrival—with your abilities intact—would be the only reason to delay fighting. If you can’t escape, if you have no stone, and if you can’t star travel, then Crithos needs to fight the instant King Artemis sets foot on our soil, before he can decimate our ranks.”
“It’s your decision. I’ll try to update you as I can to any changes.”
“You need to keep in touch. Let’s say every five days you return to my dreams. If seven days pass, then I’ll know you didn’t survive.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
She walked to me and poked a finger in my chest. “I know you joke when things get too serious. But I’m telling you, you’d better live. You retrieve your stone, and you bring your star-crossed butt back to Marrington.”
In two days, I found myself back in the King’s arena. I gripped the sword in my already-sweating palm as the doors closed behind me and the deafening roar of the crowd resounded. Who would I fight this time? Men, or giants? Perhaps it would be an animal. A hungry lion? A giant squid? I’d done that already.
From the opposite side of the arena emerged a…
Are you kidding me?!
Killer, the Hunju giant, stomped through the doors. I had to fight him again? I barely survived last time. Perhaps that was the point—we had yet to battle to the death.
Killer brandished the club again, and I guessed he’d learned his lesson to use it more effectively this time. The club was the size of a tree trunk. Metal spikes were embedded along the distal one-third of the club.
My gulp may have echoed through the arena if not for the thunderous crowd. Was this a new crowd, or the same raucous group as the last one? If this were the prior group, then they were obviously still against me. If they were new, then I puzzled how or why so many people would consider gladiator fighting an enjoyable pastime.
Killer stomped toward me, and I wondered how I would survive the coming beating. As the grating of opening doors sounded, Killer slowed and turned to follow the noise. From two orifices, two black marsh adders emerged. The snakes’ obsidian bodies glinted in the sunlight as their eyes maliciously focused on the contenders in the ring.
My stomach roiled as fear zinged like a shockwave through my body. I knew this type of foe all too well. The snake’s venom paralyzed its victim, enabling the snake to slowly consume its prey while still alive. Aside from the blinding pain of its fangs penetrating skin, if one bit me, Killer could easily finish me off.
Killer and I turned from each other to face the snakes.
The reptiles moved with lightning speed in a serpentine slither across the dirt floor of the arena. Killer unleashed a battle cry and swung his club. The first snake dodged it. Maybe the giant would present such a large and appealing target the snakes wouldn’t bother with a small human.
The second snake came for me.
“Stars and stones,” I swore as I readied my sword. Anytime the powers that be wanted to return my stone, it would suit me.
The snake lunged toward me, its magnificent triangular head bearing down as his mouth opened wide in anticipation of a meal. It was so close to my face I could see the venomous sack in its throat.
I ducked, followed by a swipe of my sword that accomplished little more than sheering off a few scales. I dove and rolled, feeling the heat of its hissing breath on the back of my legs.
I leaped to my feet, swinging my sword widely in hopes of warding off the deadly creature. It drew its head back and out of my reach. Although that tactic worked once, I couldn’t keep chopping at the wind, as it was too exhausting. What’s more, the salivating creature appeared to be hungry enough it might risk a cut to earn a meal.
I glanced at Killer. His massive club beat the snake back. When Killer finished, he would turn his attention to me, and I didn’t stand a chance against the giant.
When the snake attacked again, I dodged, but this time working my way toward his slithering body. I slashed again, flaying scales and opening skin. It writhed, and its lashing body knocked me aside. I tumbled across the dirt. When I felt a pop, I suspected I’d fractured a rib.
Adrenaline had me back on my feet and running. My sword was—I glanced around—somewhere. I dashed toward Killer, who was still distracted by the other snake.
As I ducked between his tree-trunk sized legs, my snake moved close behind me. Killer’s snake dodged the club. While it was distracted, I dove over its body and curled beside him. My snake lunged for me. Instead of sinking its fangs into me—a much smaller target—, it struck its companion.
Killer stared at the mishap. His snake hissed and snapped its head wildly. Before its body gave way to the paralytic venom, it sunk a fang into Killer’s kneecap. The giant’s roar filled the arena.
My snake turned his attention to the falling giant. Mouth gaping, he launched himself at Killer. The Hunju threw up a hand. The snake’s fangs penetrated deep into his palm.
With one snake immobilized by venom and the other now attacking Killer, I only needed to sneak away from the fight. Killer lay flat and immobile, but still breathing. He’d still feel the pain of more snake bites, and feel the snake curling around his neck, all the while helpless to move. I knew that terrible sensation.
I found my sword in the dirt and walked toward the snake looming over Killer’s fallen body. When I reached the snake’s midsection, I brought the sword down in a two-handed blow. It sliced cleanly through its body. Blood spilled out onto the dirt.
The reptile turned its attention to me, and I realized I wasn’t out if its reach. I pivoted to run when it struck me. Its effort was weakened by the blood loss and lack of half its body, but a giant snake need not have its full strength to inflict damage on a human. Pain like a hot poker sank into my shoulder. My vision blurred. I crawled in the dirt to distance myself from the beast, knowing and dreading the coming paralysis.
Seconds passed and I was still able to crawl, however laboriously. My shoulder throbbed and oozed warm blood as my right chest shot stabbing pain with every breath. The pain nauseated me, but I maintained mobility. The snake must have depleted its venom stores from the previous bites to the other snake and Killer.
Despite not being paralyzed, I’d exhausted my energy and sank into the dirt. I heard the muted cheers and grumbles of the crowd. Once again, they watched action and bloodshed—though this time they had the satisfaction of the snakes’ deaths.
20
MALAKAI
I watched Boyo heal Abigail. He looked down his nose at her, as though she was beneath him. He gave her the barest touch, as if afraid touching her would taint him somehow. His abdomen glowed from the Che stone working beneath its surface.
Abigail and Baird had rescued Boyo during the Omega plague epidemic, and yet the man seemed to have no sense of debt or gratitude toward her.
In her state of unconsciousness, Abigail groaned. The gaping wound from the adder fang slowly closed.
“You’re pacing,” Snake Eyes commented.
“Shush.”
“Mal?” Abigail blinked her eyes.
I knelt beside her. “Shh, Abigail. Boyo is healing you. If you wake, he may leave the task undone.”
She stilled, but I could see the pain she bore through the tenseness of her jaw and tight lines around her eyes.
“Distract her from the pain,” Snake Eyes suggested. “Kiss her.”
I ignored the absurd brownie and spoke to Abigail. “While you’ve been performing stunts in the arena for your many adoring fans, I’ve been doing real work. I’ve nearly all the passageways memorized—you’re welcome.”
Be cavalier and endearing, I thought.
Abigail said nothing but continued to lay on her side as Boyo healed her.
I lay on the ground beside her. “I quite like this version of conversation,” I lied with a sm
ile. “I can annoy you without your retaliating glares and insults.”
Her lips quirked slightly.
When Boyo stood, she opened her eyes and glared at me.
I chuckled, though deep inside relief quelled my angst to know she still had her spark. If they continued this relentless form of torture, they could crush her spirit.
“I saved your life,” Abigail croaked. “On Kovia.”
Boyo turned back to her. “You did. In return, I’ve healed you multiple times.”
“You didn’t heal anyone on Kovia.”
When Abigail had rescued Boyo and other captives from a zealot, Boyo hadn’t shared his magical abilities. He’d been on a continent devastated by a plague but had only been concerned with getting back to Bellos.
“My assignment was to meet with Kovian diplomats and assess the strengths and weaknesses of the country—not save worthless lives.”
“My husband saved those lives. He also had a healing stone, and he gave his life to save thousands the plague would have claimed.”
“I’d assumed that since we didn’t see the plague on Bellos, your mission was successful. It sounds like your husband played quite the hero, and we have him to thank for stopping the plague.”
“But you’re still going to help Artemis attack my country.”
“Yes. Your continent of barbarians needs stronger leadership.” He bent down and snatched Abigail’s chin in his hand. His eyes narrowed and his voice hissed like the snakes she’d just battled. “And you will refer to him as King Artemis—and you’ll bow before him and the Prince. You will learn your place at the heels of Bellosians.”
He released her, stood, and left. The guard in the room followed him and shut the door as they exited.
The cell door slammed shut, and we were alone.
“My stone?” Abigail asked.
“Hmm. You would point out the one thing I’ve yet to accomplish.”
A small grin tipped one corner of her mouth, though she still lay unmoving.
“I followed it to Porter Stout’s possession, but his room is quite large.”
