Solyrian Conspiracy - C M Raymond & L E Barbant

by Michael Anderle

  Karl grunted. "I'll be damned.” He shifted his body out from under the smoldering beam. "Ye did it."

  “We all did it,” he corrected.

  Parker and the Myrna man helped Karl to his feet, and the women led the way out of the destruction. As they were leaving the room, the ceiling began to crumble and fall, but as the debris plummeted toward their heads, it hit a shimmering blue shield and deflected around them. Parker looked over his shoulder at the man, whose eyes were still glowing, and gave him a nod of thanks.

  Once they were back outside, Parker and Karl dropped into the dusty yard. Smoke still hung around their heads, but they had made it as far as they could. Both men were exhausted.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Parker asked.

  “How’s me beard?”

  “Your what?”

  “Me beard, dammit. Last time I fought a fire, I lost me beard. The Baseeki didn’t stop makin’ fun a me fer weeks.”

  Parker laughed. “Your beard’s fine. I’m more worried about your chest.”

  Karl snickered. “Nothin wrong with me chest. Didn't even have much weight on this big ol' barrel of mine. It just had me pinned real good.” He pointed to the two Mylek women and the Myrna man. “If it weren't for them folk, I'm sure I wouldn't have made it out of that place alive, and I imagine Parker here would have been barbeque right alongside me.”

  The older woman gave a slight smile and nodded her head. “With all you're doing for us, there's no way I could have left you in there. If there's anything else I can do, don't hesitate to ask.”

  “I could use a drink. Sure am thirsty.”

  “You're always thirsty,” Parker said.

  “When yer right, yer right. And it wouldn't be so bad if some of the smoke cleared out of me eyes. Can ye call up a major gust?” Karl grinned.

  Parker shifted up onto his elbows and looked at the burning building. “Right. We could use some rain, too.”

  No sooner than he had said the words than the sound of rushing wind came from behind them. Karl tilted his head back and watched the underside of the dragon as he flew over.

  “Ye think she can hear everything we say?”

  Parker shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much. I mean, she can read our damned minds anyway.”

  “Some girlfriend ye got,” Karl said.

  Parker smiled, then said extra loud just in case she was listening, “Don’t I know it. She’s the best.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  "All right, lizard, let's finish this," Hannah yelled, gripping Sal's back with her thighs.

  The dragon banked left and swooped toward the crowds who had gathered around the building. There were hundreds, maybe thousands watching the building burn. Hannah guessed that most of the town was there, many of them rushing around looking for loved ones. An audible gasp swept the crowd as Sal crossed the mass of humanity.

  "And they thought Vitali looked weird," Hannah commented, giving Sal a pat on the side of the neck. His mighty wings flapped in rhythm as they climbed toward the top of the building. The flames still raged, and the smoke billowed into the air. Bright red embers spat beside her. Hannah threw one bolt of ice after another to try to cool the fire, but it was out of control.

  Sal gave his right wing an extra beat, banking them to the left. As they edged around the pillar of smoke, Hannah saw the most imminent danger to the city. She thought that the fire would be contained, but the flames were edging to the south, threatening a lower complex of structures.

  "Take me up above the fire, Sal. Time to make it rain."

  He obeyed, and soon they were soaring above the thickest billows of smoke. Their position allowed Sal to fly tight circles over the inferno. At first, Hannah had expected to just let the fire burn itself out. The building was beyond saving, after all. She thought that maybe if she created a little wind, the city might experience a respite from the suffocating cloud, but the spreading of the flames worried her. Wind might do more damage than good. It was time to manipulate nature, and she would need all her strength for the deluge that was required.

  As Sal circled, the magician raised her arms above her head, and her eyes glowed brilliant red. She concentrated on all the people who had lost loved ones that day. She thought of the town in turmoil. She thought of her team fighting for the people of this foreign land, and as she focused on these things, a longing welled up in her guts and moved toward her chest—a deep and abiding love for the people. Not only her people, but for all people in Irth.

  As the love grew, Hannah could feel her power strengthening. She focused it toward the sky. Hair stood up on the back of her neck as the first bolt of lightning struck.

  "Come on," she yelled at the air. "Give me what I want."

  She concentrated more intently and willed a change in the fabric of the universe.

  Another lightning strike. A fierce gust of wind. A thunderclap that shook her bones.

  And then it began: one drop, then another, and within a few beats of a dragon's heart, the skies opened and loosed their wet mercy.

  Hannah laughed as the rain washed down over her head, cleansing the filth from her skin. She leaned down and hugged Sal.

  They circled a half-dozen times to keep an eye on the progress. When it was clear that the heavy rains were going to do their job, Hannah nudged Sal toward the ground. Flying in, she could see a thousand faces. Shock and awe were written on each one.

  Sal, never one to waste an audience, made a perfect landing. Digging in his heels, he slid to a stop, then tilted his head back and let out a mighty roar.

  Hannah jumped off her dragon's back and stood before the crowd.

  They stared in silence, until at last, a single voice shouted, “All hail the Matriarch!"

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Man, you’re a freakin’ rock star,” Aysa remarked as the crowd continued to chant for Hannah. “They love you. Guess they’ll need another big-ass statue in the middle of town.”

  Parker raised a brow. “Maybe not. They think she is the Matriarch, which is a little creepy for her boyfriend.”

  “Aye, Parker. I guess when ye put it that way, it gives a whole ‘nother meanin’ to ‘mommy issues.’ But ye’ll need to work on that one with yer woman.” Karl scanned the crowd, which was impressive, if not a little frightening in its heightened admiration of Hannah and her crew. Among them, one face stood out, and it was moving directly toward them. “Well, seems one feller in the bunch still has his arsehole puckered.”

  Irmand stood before the BBB, his hand gripping his club like a vice, face pale, and his lower lip trembling. In response, Karl slung his hammer onto his shoulder at the ready, just in case the man was looking to do something utterly stupid. No one in their right mind would step up to Hannah and her team after what they had just seen, but Irmand had seemed a few pints short of a keg since the day they met him.

  “The hell was all of that?” Irmand shouted in Hannah’s direction.

  She opened her mouth to respond, but the captain beat her to it and answered his own question. “It was the most impressive use of magic and muscle I’ve ever seen within our walls. Thank you.”

  Karl could tell Hannah was practicing restraint. They had all risked their lives while Irmand and his team were passing around leaky buckets.

  Hannah extended her hand to the captain of the guard, and he shook it. “It was not only a pleasure, but our responsibility,” she replied. After a beat, she continued, “But…you might want to reconsider your approach. Your men could have been better utilized evacuating the building and tending to the people.”

  Irmand’s face grew red. “I understand you see it that way, but a call had to be made. We were trying to keep the fire from spreading beyond the walls of the structure. Better cities than this one have been leveled by the ravaging power of fires.” His own words breathed some confidence back into him, and the captain stood tall. “And it is not like I can create a heavenly firehose from the back of a dragon. You do realize you had some advantage
s there.”

  Clearly, Irmand was not the man Karl had first thought he was. The captain was gruff, certainly, but now it also seemed clear that he had good intentions. Maybe he was even good-natured.

  Hannah smiled. “I do not mean to offend, Irmand. And you are right, I have some,” she cleared her throat, “advantages.”

  “You do.” He grinned beneath his bushy mustache. “And of course, one of them is that team of yours. Bravest bastards I’ve seen in a while!”

  “Don’t forget us bitches, Tough Guy!” Aysa called.

  Finally, Irmand’s face broke into a full smile. “Yes, ma’am. Of course. Not sure why, but these days, I can’t keep the best of my men. No sooner does a good officer join then he ends up leaving the guard. Hell, almost all of them end up leaving town.”

  “Deserters?” Parker asked.

  Irmand shrugged. “Not sure what to call ‘em. They just never show up for work again. Anyway, we might have different approaches, but Solyr would have suffered more greatly had you not been here—or if you chose not to help. I’m grateful. We owe you.”

  “You owe us nothing, and it looks like there’s more work to be done.” She nodded toward the scores of people injured in the fire. “If you’ll allow, I can spread some of the healing magic of our druids around.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Hannah left them to serve the people.

  Irmand shook his head. “Healing power? Now, that’s something. Can she do everything?

  Karl snorted. “We haven’t found her limits yet.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Men and women in loose-fitting clothing ran around the building, some spreading news about the fire in the city, some looking like they were battening the hatches in case the waves of flame a half-mile away decided to devour them all. Vitali moved easily through the chaos.

  He pulled his hood tighter around his head. The rooms Kirill had found for them contained a full wardrobe, and it didn’t take the Lynqi long to find something that fit him, while also covering most of his fur. It was a blessing that people in this city liked their clothing long and loose, and he had seen plenty of people wearing draped hoods or oversized hats.

  The fashion worked to his advantage.

  It wasn’t the same as stalking prey in the jungle, but there were similar principles involved. Move slowly, stick to the shadows, blend in.

  He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, although he avoided Myrna children. He imagined that anything out of the ordinary around the great hall would stick out to him if he kept his eyes open and his ears alert.

  In the end, it was his nose that led him to his goal.

  He smelled death in the air.

  Several winding passages away from the throne room was a small, dimly lit chamber. Unlike the rest of the great hall, this room was sparsely furnished. A few ordinary candles illuminated the space’s only feature: a body lying as still as death on a table.

  Vitali took in the room, then stepped closer.

  He had seen plenty of dead bodies of both the furry and furless varieties. This man’s body had been altered somehow—painted around the face to give it extra color and dimension, a caricature of life.

  This was the king. Even in death, there was no mistaking the royal treatment.

  Vitali walked around the body of Aurel. He was not old, not the large graying figure Vitali had expected. He was strong, full of life even, minus the whole death thing.

  Vitali wondered what could have killed such a man.

  There were no head wounds, as far as he could tell. No bruises around the neck, even under the paint. Vitali reached for the silk cloth covering the body and began to move it back.

  “You won’t find anything under there.”

  Vitali spun into a crouch, reaching for the knife at his belt, but the woman before him didn’t appear to be a threat, even if Vitali knew better than to trust appearances.

  She was old, her body hunched by a lifetime of stooping. Or maybe that was a result of the body magic practiced by the Mylek. She had huge feet, and although they were wrapped in layers of thick cloth, Vitali could see they weren’t shaped like most of the furless’ feet were.

  Her hands too were overlong, like they had been stretched. Her fingers seemed to extend too far to properly hold the broom. Apparently some of the Mylek couldn’t hide their changes, like Ky and the other nobles were able to do. Or maybe a lifetime of altering one’s body had side effects.

  “I didn’t see you,” Vitali said.

  “A habit of mine.” She looked Vitali up and down, her eyes slowing as they crossed his furred face and exposed hands. “My name is Nijah. I’m used to keeping a low profile. They prefer it that way.”

  “It seems we have that in common, Nijah. I am called Vitali.” He nodded toward the king’s body. “What did you mean by that? What won’t I find under there?”

  “Evidence.” She leaned the broom against a wall and shuffled toward him. “I’ve worked in this building a long, long time. Since before Aurel took the crown from his father. Aurel was a good king, nicer than his predecessor, at least. He often stopped to say hello when he passed me in the halls, and he chatted with me like I was his equal. Told jokes and listened to mine.” Nijah laughed, a sharp, sad sound that echoed in the small chamber. “He always seemed to know what the punchline was going to be before I got to it. He was like that with all his people. He knew their needs and worked to provide them, Myrna and Mylek alike.”

  She placed her hands on his chest. “I was here the night he died. They dragged him in covered in blood. None of the other servants were awake, so I volunteered to wash and prepare the body. It’s custom in these parts to send off our dead looking as much like they looked in life as we can.”

  “Where I come from,” Vitali offered, “we let nature take us as we are.”

  She nodded. “Maybe that’s a kindness for those left behind. I wept as I worked. But the damned thing was, there wasn’t a wound on him. No cuts, no stabs, no broken bones. Nothing but the blood covering his skin that should have been on his insides.”

  Vitali stared at the body anew. The Muur of his homeland could kill without leaving a mark, their poisons as sure a death as an arrow to the heart or a slit jugular. He had also spent enough time around magic to know that not every weapon was physical.

  He began to ask her about the magic in this city, but something else she said struck him.

  “You said he was dragged in. What does that mean? I thought he was killed in the great hall?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t know where he died, but it wasn’t here. One of his guards carried him in from the darkness and showed him to Irmand and Kirill. The prince, he ordered me not to tell anyone what I saw. Just to do my work and to keep silent.”

  Vitali eyed the woman. She was old, but she wasn’t weak. There was fire behind her eyes.

  “If you were ordered to be quiet, why are you telling me?”

  “Because screw that guy,” she said angrily. “I saw you with the one who looks like the Matriarch. You’re here to help. It’s not much, but I want to aid your work any way I can. Aurel was a good king. He shouldn’t have died like this.”

  “Talking to me could be risky.”

  She laughed again. “They killed the king. A man powerful enough to do that could kill anyone he wanted.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After healing the worst-hurt people on the grounds outside the apartment building, Hannah paused to look over the effects of the fire on the community. People still shifted throughout the city streets, looking for loved ones and taking account of the damage. She saw Sal aiding in the removal of rubble from the base of the building. Contrary to the jokes, the beast was far from lazy, and he was moved by compassion.

  Hannah walked toward a gymnasium across the street, where the other survivors had been moved. Parker joined her.

  "How do you feel?” he asked. “I mean, how’s your power holding out?”

  "I feel fin
e."

  Parker raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. I sometimes forget how much juice you have running through that blood of yours ever since New Romanov. I guess the upgrade was pretty sweet.”

  “It's useful, especially in times like these. I'll be able to help a lot of people."

  “Most of the time, I think you’re normal,” he told her.

  Hannah jabbed him in the shoulder with a tight fist.

  He winced. “What was that for?”

  “Never call your girlfriend ‘normal.” Hannah winked.

  Parker laughed. “Point taken.”

  A girl in her twenties took Hannah by the arm and walked her toward a group of people on the floor who were reclining on worn workout mats. As Hannah walked past the victims, who had mild burns, her eyes glowed and her fingertips brushed their skin. Immediately, the redness of the burns disappeared, and the blisters shrank.

  A boy who was hardly in his teens bowed his head when she passed, saying, "Praise be."

  Hannah paused and crouched next to him. She put her fingers under his chin and raised his eyes to hers. "Praise be the Matriarch, but I'm not her. In fact, you probably won't believe this, but not that long ago, I was a lot like you. I was just a kid playing in the slums of my city. We all have this power inside us."

  The kid laughed. "Not like yours."

  Hannah smiled. “Maybe not exactly like mine, but you don’t have to be like me to make a difference. Work to grow the power you do have into something greater and remember to use it well. Use it for good."

  The kid remained silent but nodded. Hannah wasn't sure if she had gotten to him, but she had made it her goal not to become a new god among foreign people. She told her story as briefly as she could and tried to inspire people to greater heights than they thought possible. It was helpful that Ezekiel had spent so much time telling her about how the power worked and how someone could channel it.