Death of the Immortal King

by Sarah McCarthy

  “Very cute,” he commented, turning and staring at Coralie, her eyes unfocused, her hand to her chin. She was shaking; she looked confused. Run, Coralie. Run. The soldiers were moving forward now, surrounding the stage, closing in. Jedren had raised his sword lazily again, aiming for Coralie this time. Paric still struggled under the man’s bare foot; he was punching out with his free arm and kicking with his legs, but to absolutely no avail.

  Coralie.

  Lilianna’s muscles unlocked and she hurled herself forwards. The soldiers had closed ranks in front of her, but she ducked down, slipping between two of them and leaping for the stage. Her fingers found purchase on the edge and she thrust herself upwards with so much momentum that she landed on her feet on the stage. Without even pausing, she launched herself at Jedren, without a single thought but getting between his blade and Coralie.

  He saw her coming, but didn’t seem to care, didn’t divert the path of his blade a single inch. She saw it coming for her, whistling down out of the air, heading straight for her head. She was still moving forward, grimly coming to meet him. Her right foot planted, and something gave way, she felt the material of her shoe pull apart, and her foot slipped. Now she was falling to one side, still careening towards the monster.

  The sword struck her shoulder with so much force it drove all the air from her body. The sound of ringing, rending metal cut through the air, sparks flew, and a blinding light seared Lilianna’s eyes. Her knees nearly buckled under her, but the blow knocked her back upright, and she swayed on her feet. Searing, dizzying pain went through her, emanating from her chest. She blinked, struggling to remain standing, expecting the second, killing blow at any second. Waiting to hear Coralie’s scream as she died.

  Something heavy thudded to the ground. There was a collective gasp, then a deep silence. The wind blew across her face, lifting her hair, a bright light hot on her skin.

  She opened her eyes, looked down at herself. No blood. How could that be? Her chest was a pounding, searing, mess of pain. Her eyes travelled to the ground, and she noticed the medallion, the solid gold cut completely in half by the blow it had stopped.

  Wow, solid gold. That must have been expensive, she thought woozily. Then her eyes rested on Jedren. The great hulking form of the man had collapsed a few feet from her. He wasn’t moving. As she watched, some black substance seemed to be draining out of him. It was like his muscles were slowly shrinking, deflating, until he was only a small man in a puddle of black blood.

  The light and heat intensified as she took a struggling, gasping breath and looked again at herself. The blow that had nearly killed her, that had cut through the solid gold medallion, had had just enough force to also nick her dress behind it, to tear it apart, without so much as drawing a drop of blood. She stood, her dress hanging off her, a bright ray of sunlight shining fiercely down on her.

  Coralie looked up at her, her eyes wide with terror.

  “Lilianna? Are you—”

  She struggled to draw another breath. “I’m OK,” she gasped, then looked up and saw several hundred wide eyes were upon her. No one moved. Even the soldiers stood motionless, their hands still on their sword hilts, their blades half-drawn.

  Lilianna saw Paric pulling himself from under Jedren. He motioned with his eyes to his wrist. The blade. When Jedren had lunged for her, Paric must have managed to move his arm just enough to nick Jedren’s foot.

  Shaking, Lilianna looked down at herself again, saw a bruise blossoming on her chest. Is that a face? She shook her head, the sunlight still dazzling her. She must be imagining things.

  Coralie gasped and stepped back, staring at Lilianna’s bare chest, her hand going to her mouth, her eyebrows raising. “It’s Numenos,” she whispered. “It’s the goddess.”

  The wind settled and the sun brightened further, bathing the whole square in dazzling sunlight, all that much brighter now that the shadow of Jedren was gone.

  Lilianna looked out again, saw the silent crowd, the staring eyes. Everyone was watching, every single person was looking at her like she’d done something incredible.

  An old woman moved forward, ducking her head, blinking in the sunlight still bathing the platform. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pointed at Lilianna’s chest. “It is the goddess,” she cried. “Numenos has protected us.” The tears ran thickly down her face as she sank to her knees, bowing. Lilianna tensed and glanced at Coralie.

  Hesitantly, a man came forward, the rest of the crowd didn’t move. No one wanted to seem to approach, to shatter the moment. He looked closely, squinting at Lilianna’s chest, and his eyes widened. Without speaking, he too sank to his knees.

  An instant later, the crowd was pressing forward, pushing up against the edges of the stage, everyone trying to get a better look at the image of the goddess that had appeared on Lilianna’s chest. Lilianna blinked, feeling vaguely uncomfortable, but not sure what to do.

  “She is protected by the goddess,” someone said.

  “Numenos sent her to protect us from the demon.”

  The whispers continued, rippling back from the stage to the far corners of the square.

  “She sacrificed herself to save us.”

  Whispers turned to prayers and chants which turned to cheers, and the people near her began to kneel, tears in their eyes.

  Lilianna shifted uncomfortably, finally starting to recover her wits. She’d never had so many people looking at her at once. She started to tug the edges of her dress closed.

  “Stop this, stop this immediately!” Ryn shouted, climbing the stairs two at a time. “Jedren may be dead, but the spirit of Yqtos will pass to another servant.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Namely, me.” He gestured to the soldiers. “Arrest them. Execute them immediately. We will continue as planned.”

  The soldiers shifted uncomfortably. Lilianna could see the indecision warring in their eyes. Jedren had given them what they wanted. Power. They were about to lose it all. Ryn was not Jedren, but maybe he was right, maybe Yqtos would simply transfer his power to another. She had to stop it. Strangely, she saw some of their eyes travelling to her, evaluating, questioning.

  They think I—they think I’m… What? Chosen by Numenos?

  “All hail the champion of the divine mother!” The shout came from the stockade, from the bald man next to Aron.

  The soldiers turned to look at him.

  “Today we have witnessed a miracle,” the bald man shouted. “This young woman has done what we could not, friends. She is clearly the chosen champion of the goddess. Sent by Numenos herself to protect us from this monster.”

  There were many nods, but also some stony, calculating faces. You liked how things were under that monster, didn’t you?

  Paric, grimacing, eyed the crowd.

  “No!” Ryn cried. “Do not let your faith be swayed. Keep in mind what the one god does to those who betray him.” He gestured to the pile of bodies, to the soldiers holding the severed heads.

  “Those are the people who followed him! Who surrendered to him.” It was Damion, standing near the front. “All his followers have ever gotten is death.” He turned to Lilianna. “Praise Numenos, praise be to her champion, the bringer of light.”

  He dropped to a knee, bowing his head. There was silence for several seconds. What do I do?

  Off to the side, a reedy voice rose up. “Praise to the champion of Numenos!” Lilianna caught a glimpse of dark hair, saw Gird wink at her as he elegantly sank to one knee.

  A few more seconds passed, then one by one the rest of the crowd followed suit. The soldiers, however, remained standing.

  “Anyone still bowing in five seconds will be executed immediately,” Ryn shouted. “When the new scion appears, you will all be destroyed!”

  Several soldiers seemed to shake off their surprise, to realize what was happening, the power that was slipping away from them. They began drawing their swords.

  “Those of you who ever fought with me,” the bald man called. “Now is the time. For
weeks I have prayed to Numenos, and this is the answer to my prayers. This is the champion we asked for. It was never me. This is our moment to defeat those who would blaspheme the gods, who would spit on their names and destroy their temples. Yqtos is not the only god. He is not the greatest of gods. Death is not the greatest power in Mimros. Life is.”

  The soldiers looked from the bald man to Ryn. A few swords lowered, a few raised.

  “Return to me, friends, return to what we strove for, to what so many of us died for.” The man’s voice was a roar now, echoing through the plaza. At the last moment it dropped to something quiet and certain and clear. “Let’s send these men back to their god.”

  A man lifted his sword. “Praise Numenos!”

  Another followed suit. “Hail to the bringer of light!”

  First one soldier and then another tore off his breast plate, with that blank white face, and dropped it to the ground. The sound of metal clattering on stone filled the square for several seconds, and when silence descended again, it was clear who outnumbered who. The last of those loyal to Yqtos threw off their breastplates as well.

  “Arrest him,” the bald man said. “And free us.”

  The soldiers came to free him, and he crossed the courtyard on shaking legs, borrowing a sword from one man as he went, and coming to stop on the stage in front of Lilianna. She raised her eyebrows. He dropped down to one knee, bowing his head and offering her the hilt of her sword.

  “My name is Alydren, lady, and I offer you my service.”

  What? She looked around at the jubilant crowd, their faces filled with light and wonder. They reminded her suddenly of other faces. Of the people in the markets back at home who had watched her so carefully, their eyes accusing her of stealing, and of the people who had looked away, who had pretended not to see the bruises on her mother, on her, who had never questioned the story her father told them. You look at me when it suits you, don’t you?

  No thanks, she wanted to say, but then she saw Kallia standing, her ladies clustering around her. She was moving swiftly for the stage, parting the crowd around her. Who knew how many of them would be loyal to her? Lilianna’s eyes fell on Coralie, standing a few feet back. Coralie, who had always loved her, always seen her, always protected her. This was a way forward for them. This was a way she could finally protect Coralie. Maybe the only way. Coralie smiled and gave a brief nod. I don’t deserve this. I’m not the champion of Numenos. I’m a fraud.

  “Thank you,” she said to Alydren. She grasped the sword hilt. Was she supposed to keep it? Hand it back to him? She took it, holding it tightly, and gestured for him to stand.

  “Arrest her,” she said, gesturing to Kallia.

  Many of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably at this, Lilianna saw. She bit the inside of her cheek.

  Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to say something. Well, better embrace it now.

  “You came here today to surrender to a monster,” she said. Everyone leaned forward, looking at one another. A ripple of whispered questions went through the crowd. She swallowed again and tried to project her voice farther. “You came here to surrender to a monster,” she shouted. “But that monster is dead. The god of death may send a new champion, but we will be ready. We will cut him down wherever he arises. Today, we build a new, stronger Mimros. Mimros will never be vulnerable again.”

  A cheer went up, the sun broke through the clouds again. The band started playing. Good sense of timing, Lilianna thought. She should keep them around.

  The soldiers moved to Kallia, taking her roughly by the arms. One by one, the remaining clan leaders approached, pledged their loyalty to her. The whole while she held Alydren’s sword in a shaking hand.

  The party was wild and lasted nearly until sunrise. The bodies were taken away, returned to ships to be returned to their homelands. The black banners were taken down, the blood rinsed from the cobblestones. A fire was lit in the center and from out of nooks and crannies, pockets, and secret compartments, talismans and statues of the gods appeared. They were set around the fire and offering after offering was made to them.

  Later in the evening, the doctor attending to Aron came to speak to her.

  Aron lay in a quiet room of one of the shops at the side of the square. His eyes were closed, his face pale.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do,” the doctor said.

  “What?” Lilianna asked sharply, panic clutching at her. This whole thing was because of Aron. I can’t do this without you. She bent over him. “Aron?” His eyelids fluttered, and a smile passed over his lips, but he said nothing. Gave no other indication that he had heard her. No. No. You have to be OK.

  A small hand tugged at Lilianna’s dress and she turned to see Kara, pale but looking better than Aron. She clasped her hands and bowed deeply to Lilianna before she spoke.

  “Let me take him to our monastery. If he cannot continue to live in this body, let him be reborn with us. Then he may return to you.”

  Lilianna looked at Aron. What should I do? She shook herself. No. It was time she started making decisions. “Yes. Take him quickly.” She looked for Alydren. He was there, where he had been the whole night, no more than three feet from her side. “Can you arrange for them to go to her monastery?”

  “Yes, champion.” He bowed.

  She cringed but shook it off. Clasping Aron’s hand, she squeezed it tight. “Come back,” she whispered in his ear.

  I need you.

  60

  Jedren

  For the second time in his memory, Jedren stood in front of that silvery gate and watched the water cascading down. He waited to see if Yqtos would appear, give him some last hope, another chance. The pull of death was strong, and the longer he resisted, the stronger it became. He waited, focusing all his strength on pushing himself away from the gate, even as he felt himself inching inexorably closer.

  He waited for that ancient face to appear, if not to help him, to at least thank him, to maybe explain, one last time, here before Jedren’s memories left him forever, what it had all been for.

  The gate pulled harder, little splashes of water landed on Jedren’s face, cooling him, tingling where they alighted on his glowing form. The places where the little droplets had landed grew cooler, then cold; he could feel them sinking into him, sliding through his spirit, looked down and saw bits of himself washing away.

  He squinted through the turbulent water, the sheets of white, but nothing came. The god of death was done with him. At last he could resist no longer. He gave in, let the gate pull him through, felt the liquid cascading over and through him. His last thought was of Kallia.

  61

  Lilianna

  Lilianna sat watching the celebrations in the firelight. Her body ached; her bruise throbbed. She scanned the crowd, a plate of food untouched at her side. They’d done it. She couldn’t believe they’d done it. Jedren was dead. And she was… what… leader in his place?

  Not all the faces were happy. There were plenty of scowls, quickly hidden, but many of those who had worn Jedren’s uniform were displeased. What happens when the excitement wears off? How long are people going to think I’m a hero and not just some girl from the backwaters? I can’t even read. What happens when they find that out?

  She turned around and glanced behind her. Paric stood there next to Alydren, chatting, but both men were similarly eyeing the crowd, and eyeing each other. Paric’s Volarian. He came here to assassinate whoever rose to power. That means me, now.

  Her mind strayed to Ryn and Kallia, both imprisoned. How many other people had the keys to those prisons? Even now, there must be plenty of people who would rather have one of them in power. She picked at the edge of her chair. I have no idea what I’m doing.

  Lilianna stood quickly. But I’m going to do it anyway. I’m done hesitating. No more waiting in the moonlight. No more standing over her father’s body, too afraid to act. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake. She wasn’t going to wait until men loy
al to Kallia or Ryn freed them and they came to overthrow her. If they try, they’ll succeed. I know absolutely nothing about any of this.

  “Alydren?”

  He turned and bowed. “Yes, champion?”

  He seems sincere, anyway.

  Paric raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head, instead motioning for Alydren to follow her a few feet away.

  “I want you to have Kallia and Ryn executed.”

  His eyelids flickered, but he nodded. “Of course. When?”

  “Now.”

  “Here?”

  “No. I… want you to do it. Get rid of the bodies. Make sure no one sees you or finds them. I want people thinking they left Mimros.” Giving them hope they would return? Is that worse? She frowned. First thing tomorrow she was getting herself advisors. Teachers. As many as she could find. Right now, she was an easy target, and this new government wasn’t going to last five minutes. Should she wait to execute Ryn and Kallia until she’d thought it through? No. She wasn’t giving her enemies time to act.

  “Of course, right away.” Alydren bowed. She considered asking him what he thought. But if she did that would he think less of her? If he stopped following her, everything would fall apart. No. She had to appear strong. He thought she was Numenos’ champion. So that was what she would have to be.

  “Good.” She straightened. “Thank you. Numenos bless.”

  He bowed more deeply and slipped off into the darkness.

  She turned to see Paric watching her.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Lilianna asked, her jaw jutting.

  He laughed and took a drink.

  “Fair question. I’m supposed to.”

  “I know.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve gotten kind of attached.”

  She waited, not speaking.

  “Make me a better offer.”