Death of the Immortal King

by Sarah McCarthy

  Elaine

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Dem slapped her hand away from the pot and shoved her. Elaine stumbled back, her legs weak.

  “Nowhere, just like you,” she said, dropping her eyes and attempting to move around him.

  The other prisoners avoided looking at her, focusing on the food.

  He shoved her again. “I think you’ve had enough, clan skint.”

  Elaine clenched her fists and found the wall behind her, steadying her, willing her legs to stop shaking.

  “I haven’t eaten anything for days.”

  Searing pain shot through her as his fist connected with the side of her face. She collapsed, curling instinctively, her arms around her head. His boot dug into her side, flipping her onto her back.

  Elaine climbed up onto her hands and knees, her face stinging, her vision blurry.

  “I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “Yes, you have.” His boot smashed into her shoulder and her head cracked against the stone floor, spots exploding in her vision. She groaned. Silence reigned, except for the soft scraping of fingernails against the side of the food pot and the soft squishing sounds of food being pressed into mouths.

  “You think you’re so much better than us.”

  Dem spat; the thick slime landed on her cheek.

  Elaine held up a hand, her heart skittering. “Stop.”

  Dem laughed.

  She gulped in a breath of air. “No, I mean it. Stop.”

  “Or what?”

  Elaine grimaced, wiping the spit off her face and pushing herself upright against the wall. She gingerly touched the already swelling lump on the side of her face. “You’re right. I’m clan. A Connoly.”

  His face twisted in a hateful leer.

  “You were right, too. I left my crest at home, got into some trouble. Partying.”

  He pulled back his foot, aiming another kick at her rib cage.

  “I can get you out.”

  He paused, his foot held back.

  Elaine stared straight into his furious eyes, struggling to keep her voice even. “I’m sure my family is looking for me.” She shifted and gasped as pain shot through her shoulder. “Once they find out where I am, they’ll arrange to pay for my release. I can pay for yours as well.”

  A few other heads looked up.

  “Yours too,” she added, nodding.

  “You lie.” Dem crossed his arms over his chest.

  I’m clan. I’m clan and my family is coming to pay for my release. Any day now. I’ll be out any day now. “I’m telling you the truth. If you leave me alone, I give you my word that I will get you your release.” Elaine vowed to herself that that part at least was true. No matter how horrible he was, she would get him released if she ever got out of this place.

  He uncrossed his arms. “Just a release is no good to me.”

  Elaine readjusted the hand she leaned on, a pebble digging into her palm.

  “What do you need?”

  “A place to stay.”

  “I can give you two months’ rent somewhere. And work papers.”

  “Tax free.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Might take me a while to find work.”

  “Of course. I can… get you food, too, while you’re looking.”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  “What about us?” Another man said.

  Elaine’s eyes roved over the rest of the prisoners.

  “I… I don’t… how much does a release cost?”

  “At least a numen.”

  Elaine relaxed. “Oh, that’s fine then. Yes, I can get you all released.”

  Dem’s eyes widened. The prisoners glanced at each other, some skeptical, some excited.

  Elaine met his eyes until he gave a nod and went back to his side of the cell. Ava, spare me. She’d bought herself some time, at least. Who knew how long?

  41

  Alydren

  One Year Before the Reign of the Mandrevecchian.

  The first good thing that had happened to Alydren in years was when Hardwick was sacked and its leaders executed publicly and painfully. Suddenly the cities that had insisted they would defend themselves on their own sent emissaries, messengers to track Alydren down and find him, wherever he was in his quest to find supporters. And then the real windfall: Kreiss wanted to join him.

  The largest city on the largest island in the Wrimn sea. Its markets were famous for being the only place you could get Volarian goods at any time of year. Its ports were busy and sought after, the fishing around its shores plentiful, the trade winds that blew to and from it always favorable no matter where you were going or when. Kreiss was defended by the largest army in Mimros, or what had been the largest army before Jedren came. It had plenty of war ships, both small fighters and large cargo ships. It had weapons and infantry, cavalry and siege weapons.

  Its patron saint was Wrimera, goddess of the ocean. A glittering limestone temple with gold and silver filigree inlaid in patterns to represent the great swells of the sea perched on the highest hill overlooking the great city, and the people were proud of it, and proud of their patron saint, and there was no way they were prying off the gold and silver, painting it black, and bowing before the god of death. Especially not when Wrimera had brought them so much prosperity.

  Jedren had skirted Kreiss several times, his ships passing within miles of that tempting harbor with all its riches, but he’d never attempted to take it. Now, rumor had it that Kreiss was his next target. That glittering jewel he’d shied away from in the past. Alydren had been in contact with the leaders of Kreiss, and when word came that Jedren sailed, Alydren knew he had prepared enough, had gathered all the knowledge and resources and allies he was going to gather. He had prepared for years. It was time.

  It was midday. Cloudy. A cold rain spit down out of the sky into Alydren’s face where he stood on the forecastle looking out across the choppy seas. Behind him was the harbor, arrayed on all sides were the warships from all the cities who had joined him. Ten to his left; ten to his right.

  Jedren’s ships appeared on the horizon, just where he’d known they would.

  “Oars out,” he called. All along the rows of ships, long oars extended like beetle legs, their blades angled and ready. No sails today. No finding himself downwind and tacking up towards an enemy barreling down on him from above. He lifted an arm. All along the rows, men looked to his signal. He dropped his arm.

  The boats skimmed forward, coming to meet the opposite force. There were only ten of them, just as his spies had told him. He’d scrambled and scraped, begged, and scoured the country for these twenty-one warships. It wasn’t six to one, but it would have to be enough.

  As they skimmed forward, they spread out. If Jedren made the madman’s bargain and started launching fire, it wouldn’t spread from boat to boat. And if he decided to board, he’d have to board them all. When they were thirty feet away, the hail of arrows began. Alydren was ready for this, too. Jedren was not a tactician by any means, and too arrogant to listen to his subordinates. His attacks were always effective, but they were always the same.

  “Shields up,” Alydren whispered. He didn’t need to tell his men. Everywhere, the shields went up, thick wooden roofs on pivots, protecting his fighters from the hail of arrows. Let Jedren waste his arrows, waste his archers, firing into wooden planks.

  They were closing the distance between them now. Twenty feet. Ten. The boats coming in from the sides slowed, pivoted. Jedren’s men ignored these, focusing on the central pack, where they must know Alydren and the other leaders stood. Kill the leaders, they were they only ones who Jedren saw as important in any way.

  None of the enemy soldiers noticed as the boats on their flanks fixed the iron spikes to their prows. Or at least, Alydren heard no alarm being called. The bulk of Alydren’s forces, and all of Jedren’s were speeding headlong towards one another. Alydren could see the ligh
ts winking off the grappling hooks swinging in his enemies’ hands.

  The boats on the sides completed their preparations, resumed their rowing, picking up speed. The enemy soldiers took notice now. Shouts went up; they tried to speed up, to turn, to get out of the way, but they were too late. The boats rammed into them, crushing into their sides, icy water pouring in. As soon as they had crushed their opponents, the rowers were immediately reversing, just like they’d planned. Only a few enemy soldiers managed to board their ramming boats, and they were cut down almost immediately.

  Where are you, Jedren? Are you ready to die? Are you ready to return to your god?

  The boats on the edges were sinking, his rammers readying for a second assault. The central forces collided. Enemies began pouring onto their decks, but they quickly found they were out-numbered, overmatched. Alydren had taken only the best fighters, the best close-range swordsmen he could find. He didn’t have to take his men from the ranks of those too afraid to stand up for what they believed in, or worse, who believed only in death.

  No, his men were better, they’d trained harder, they weren’t led by a man who never lost, by a man with supernatural powers. They were fighting with the desperation of those who knew that everything they loved would be destroyed if they didn’t do something about it. Something immediately. If they didn’t fight with everything they had, every last ounce of strength and skill they possessed. Every last one of his men was willing to die today to stop this monster. And because of this, they wouldn’t have to.

  The boats on the sides rammed again, two more of Jedren’s ships sank beneath the waves.

  Where are you? Do you see your men, who you foolishly clad in armor? Do you see them drowning?

  When only four of Jedren’s boats remained, that was when Jedren himself appeared. He climbed lazily up the main mast, out of the bunks below. Alydren’s eyes widened. This was not the scared, selfish boy he had met four years ago. This was truly a demon. He was at least head and shoulders taller than any other man around. His arms and neck bulged with thick, corded muscle, and black veins stood out across his biceps. He wore no armor, carried no weapon. He wasn’t even wearing shoes.

  He surveyed the battle, his eyes scanning the wreckage of his ships, the sinking, struggling bodies of his men. When his eyes lit on Alydren, he smiled a smile that chilled Alydren’s heart. Jedren let the fight rage on a little longer, smiling as men died and screamed around him, then he dropped onto the deck. In a single bound he was on the first of Alydren’s ships. With a terrible, ruthless efficiency, he began snapping necks, one by one. Men hacked at him with their swords, but he leapt easily out of the way, appearing behind them, dodging their blows, kicking out with hands and feet in a strangely graceful dance of death. A few men managed to nick him, but no more. Little dribbles of blood trickled down his arms and legs and the sides of his face, but he paid them no mind, just smiled ruthlessly, furiously, as he killed and killed and killed.

  Alydren swallowed and drew his sword. He didn’t move. He knew he didn’t have to take a single step, that Jedren would come to him.

  The bodies piled up on that first ship, until there was no one left alive but Jedren. The ramming ships on either side took out two more; now he had only two left, but he seemed wholly indifferent. That was when Alydren realized that all his plans were for nought, that no matter how well he had planned, it didn’t matter. Jedren didn’t plan, he just arrived and killed.

  Alydren stood, his sword in his hand, taking one deep breath after another as Jedren fought his way through the second of Alydren’s ships. Jedren’s men cheered him on, their screams spurring them onwards. Alydren could see his own men falter, seeing that despite their plans and superior numbers, that they were fighting something unnatural, something that perhaps could not be fought, could not be resisted. That was when a few of them began to jump ship. Most of them stayed, fought on even though it was becoming clear they were fighting to their deaths. They stayed to cut down as many as they could before they went. But many leapt into the sea. Jedren laughed and pointed and his archers picked the swimmers off, cutting them down one by one.

  Jedren looked up, once, his hands around the sides of a man’s head. He locked eyes with Alydren again and broke the man’s neck. Someone swung a sword at him from behind, but he moved an inch to his right and the sword thwacked into the deck. Jedren picked up the sword, yanking it from the owner’s hands and drove it into the man’s belly. He roared, and a black shadow thrummed through him, making the air around him shimmer. Through the shimmer, Alydren thought he saw another land, a barren, empty, strangely familiar land. And in that land a face, dark and also familiar.

  Well, if this was his death, if today was his day to die, then it was his day to die. That was just how things were going to be. Numenos, protect me. Onera, help me, Ava, hear my prayer and be with me. The rest of the gods’ names slipped his mind as his heart leapt into his throat and Jedren stepped onto the boat in front of him. The men around abandoned all pretenses, leaping over the sides in droves, anything to escape the terrifying vision in front of them.

  “Hello Jedren,” Alydren said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. “It’s been a while.”

  “Seems you’ve been busy.” Jedren flexed his blood-soaked hands and took a step forward, his bare feet leaving bloody prints. His eyes were slightly wider than normal, the pupils large and black, his breath coming fast. He looked crazed, and he faltered a moment, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

  “I hear you’ve graduated to killing children,” Alydren commented, readjusting his grip on his sword. His palms were slick with sweat.

  That hit a nerve. Jedren shook his head, sending droplets of sweat and blood through the air.

  “Not children, demons.”

  “Is that how you’re justifying this to yourself?”

  Alydren indicated the wreckage around them. The bodies floating face down in the waves.

  “This was your choice, not mine. I’m just defending myself,” Jedren said. There was a hint of desperation in his eyes. For a moment, he almost looked again like that skinny boy Alydren had met on the plains, fleeing the burned town.

  “Do you really believe that?” Alydren asked. He knew the answer. Both the true answer and the one Jedren was telling himself. Coward. There was no way out, now. Alydren knew he was going to die today. Here. He was only delaying the inevitable. But he would try every last thing he could think of before that happened.

  “It’s the truth. I am simply… simply doing what my god asks of me.”

  “What your wife asks of you. What suits you personally.”

  “You would do the same.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “No? Then you’re either too weak to do what must be done, or too arrogant to accept that the gods know better than you and I, or you’re lying to yourself.”

  Right. I’m the one lying to myself.

  “I wouldn’t do things I know are evil, no matter who told me to, or what I got in return.”

  “Then you’ve had an easy life.”

  Alydren nearly ended it there, nearly lost control of himself and lunged for Jedren. He took a breath, swallowed hard, saw amusement in Jedren’s face.

  “You know what I see?” Alydren asked, trying to change the subject. “You like it.”

  He waited for Jedren to ask what, but he didn’t.

  “You like killing.”

  A small muscle near Jedren’s left eye twitched.

  “I kill because I have to.”

  “Oh, sure, I’m sure that was true at first. But now? Now you like it. I can tell. Does that sit right with you?”

  “I do what needs to be done. I don’t enjoy it.”

  “No? You didn’t enjoy snapping all those necks? Ending all those lives? I was watching you. I saw it. Looks like lust to me. How do you think Kallia feels about that?”

  Jedren’s face burned red, his neck bulging, and he took a step forward, reaching out with one hand. Alydren’s
heart stopped and he raised his sword, but Jedren was too quick. He grabbed the blade in his bare hand, tore it easily from Alydren’s grasp, and cast it aside. Then he placed a meaty hand, still slick with blood, on Alydren’s neck.

  Alydren’s vision sharpened, time slowed down, and every muscle in his body tensed, bracing for the impact. Any second that hand would clamp down, crushing his windpipe, breaking his neck, and then it would all be over. Instead, Jedren stroked his neck gently. A chill went through Alydren’s body, a spasm of pain running down his back.

  “You know what? You’re right. I do like it. I feel… powerful.” The hand paused and tightened around Alydren’s throat. “But that’s not why I do it. That’s just a… side effect. I serve a god. And I am building a world for him. I don’t have to kill you. In fact, I won’t.

  The hand tightened expertly; spots danced in Aldyren’s vision. He struggled now, but Jedren’s other hand gripped his shoulder, holding him still. The spots grew, merged, and then a dark cloud descended, and his knees buckled. The last thing he felt was his Jedren’s finger giving his throat a final squeeze and then releasing.

  42

  Coralie

  The single coin hung heavily in Coralie’s pocket as she made her way up the darkening street. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned forward, her eyes on the ground as a pair of soldiers passed. She could feel their eyes on her, and she picked up her pace. The smell of smoke hung in the air, as it had for days. Slowly the cold breeze was clearing it out, replacing it again with fresh sea air, but it couldn’t lift the sense of terror that had settled over the city, or heal the gaping wounds, the piles of rubble where the temples used to be. A piece of parchment tacked to the front of a shop fluttered in the breeze. All it contained was a crude drawing of a face with black eyes, and a notice to report the whereabouts of anyone matching the description to the nearest soldier.

  It had been two weeks since the soldiers had stormed the city. Coralie had watched the battle from a small cottage up on the cliff that Aron had found. They had sat with the lights off as the soldiers swept through the streets, banging doors open, pulling people out of their homes and into the streets. Now, the bodies had been cleared away. Announcements had been made that Jedren and his men were here to protect them. In the name of Yqtos.