by Kate Sander
“No, you’re not,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his heart melting when she didn’t pull away, “You’re beautiful.”
She snorted and pulled away to the door, “You’re full of shit,” was all she signed before she left the house.
He sighed and followed her. They walked in silence, heading towards the waterfall and the rainbow pool. The Shaman was there, staring into the pool, back towards them.
“I knew you would be here soon,” the Shaman said without turning. Senka joined him beside the pool, staring into the water. The rush of the waterfall assaulted their ears. Jules was hanging back slightly, unsure of what to do.
“She needs to do this alone,” the Shaman said quietly, but Jules heard him clearly. Jules nodded and headed back down towards the village. Senka would find him when she wanted to.
The Shaman gestured to her and turned, walking around the pool on the polished stone. He went to the waterfall and disappeared around the side. Curious, Senka followed him. Mist was getting into her eyes and soaking her hair, and she had to keep wiping her face to see. The sounds of rushing water made it hard to hear or focus. Frowning, she hesitated. She knew what she needed to do, but she was afraid to do it. Pulse racing, she steeled herself and rushed through the crushing water into a cave.
The cave was dark and looked exactly like the one with the children all those years ago. She fell to her knees, gasping. She saw them. Their beautiful auras were swarming the cave, circling her, rushing for her. She covered her face and sobbed, signing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.
Someone’s hands covered hers, pulling them away from her face. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes to see the Shaman, inches away from her nose. “You have to let them go,” he said softly. She shook her head violently.
“Look at them, really look at them,” he leaned to the side to give her a view of the cave. Senka saw the lights charging her, angry. She shrivelled back, but the Shaman held her hands, keeping her where she was. She started to hyperventilate, breathing in fast shallow breaths.
“Look at them. They aren’t angry. Look at them!” He yelled the last word, somewhat focusing her. She really had no choice but to listen. They weren’t charging her, they were charging the walls. They swirled and intertwined in the center of the room, then charged the walls. They would bounce back, much like a human body would, then move back to the middle, swirl together and charge the walls.
“Let them out,” she signed to the Shaman.
“Only you can do that,” he answered. “You have to let go. You have to. For your sake and theirs. Let their spirits go free. Let their spirits find their families. Only you keep them here. Forgive yourself and let them go.”
“I can’t forgive myself,” she signed, “I killed them. They were beautiful and… and… and young. Without me they would still be alive. I killed them all. I have to pay. The guilt is how I pay.”
She rocked, hands over her face. The Shaman shook his head and stepped aside. He whispered to the air, “She needs you now, more than she needs me. I can’t do this alone.”
Senka heard him speak and looked over her hands. A golden aura trickled from the roof of the cave. It swirled in a circle on the floor. She couldn’t look away. A form appeared in front of her. Blurry at first, it slowly took shape, made of golden light.
The same kind eyes and bent posture as the day he died.
“Master Apollyon,” she gasped from the floor, too shocked to stand and bow. Forgetting her fear, she stared at the golden form of her master.
“Senka,” He said harshly, “Why do you cower? I taught you to stand and face adversity, not sulk in a corner. You disrespect us both.”
Scrambling to her feet, she hastily bowed.
“You want to fight for vengeance, right?” he asked. His voice had an eerie echo to it.
“I will avenge you.”
“No!” He yelled, she snapped back to attention, “What good does that to me? I am dead. It was my time to die. Fate decided.”
“I should have been able to protect you,” she signed back.
His face and voice softened, “No, child. I should have been able to protect you. I was fighting out of anger and look what happened. I always taught you to fight to defend. I grew angry when I saw what they did to our people and I suffered.”
She shook her head again, “I distracted-”
“Think about that!” he interrupted. “How wrong was my head if I could be distracted by a pupil? I lost concentration because I was fighting with emotion. I paid the price. That was my fault and I do not need my pupil, whom I love like a daughter, killing herself and others for my mistake.”
Senka held his gaze. Then, finally, she nodded. A knot in her chest slowly loosened. She hadn’t even known the stress was there.
“The children,” she signed.
“Would have died anyway. They were dead weeks before when the order came down from Solias to kill all in the village. Trust me, my dear, you are not as influential in fate as you think.”
“Then why should I fight? If it’s all decided, why should I care?”
He smiled and this time it reached his eyes. He started to shimmer, “Because we don’t know how it is written, child. We must do all we can to make a difference. We must do all we can to leave this world a better place than when we entered it.”
Senka nodded again and felt a tear drip from her eye. The small auras of the children had been sweeping around the cave during their conversation. They all stopped and stood still, shimmering in the air. Senka felt all eyes on her. She kneeled, closed her eyes, and began breathing deeply.
“That’s my girl,” her master whispered.
“I’ll miss you,” she mouthed back.
She let them go. The cubs, the children, her master. She let their spirits continue on their journey and she felt the knot in her chest loosen until it disappeared.
Senka opened her eyes and blinked a few times. The Shaman nodded. Her eyes were clear, her face set. She would now be able to do whatever she needed to without reflecting on the past. The Shaman lit a torch a beckoned.
Senka rose slowly and followed. They continued down the cave together. There was something the Shaman needed to show her. The cave opened into a giant hall, so large it went well beyond the light of the torch. A silver metal dripped from the roof of the cave and formed pools on the ground. The pools rippled and danced every time a drop fell from the roof.
“Holy shit,” Senka signed, gasping. She turned and gaped at the Shaman, “You are hoarding Quicksilver. I didn’t believe it.”
The Shaman nodded, “But not for reasons you think. Quicksilver is not the remarkable substance the people of Solias believe it is,” he caught her arm when she bent to touch the glittering pool of liquid silver nearest to her. “Never touch it with your bare hands,” he warned. Listening, she stood up straight and marveled at the cave.
“Quicksilver is poisonous. Gradually poisonous. And Solias is facing an epidemic. Their people are dying earlier than ever before. It starts with tremors of the hands, then their teeth and hair start falling out. Finally they go mad and take their own life. If they don’t go mad, they die in their sleep. The Pulse and use of Quicksilver is becoming increasingly wide spread, and the people of Solias are paying the price. They fear darkness, but only the darkness can save them from the light.”
Senka nodded, “You’re willing to go to war, to potentially die, to save them?”
“We were charged by the spirits to keep the people of Langando safe from Quicksilver. We have failed ever since Alchemist Alpha invented the Pulse. We will fail again, the Solias will find the Quicksilver, and most in Langundo will die.”
“You give up already? You will let your people die to save people who hate you, yet you know you will lose?”
“There is one way, only one, where we might have a chance of winning. We most likely won’t, but it’s our only hope.”
“I need to fight with Pulse weapons,” she signed.
“Yes. It will sentence you to sickness and death. You will not feel it now, but if you survive this onslaught, you will get sick and die earlier than anyone else. I will not ask because you have already paid your price to Langundo.”
Senka stared out into the cave and the darkness. “I always wanted to forge my own weapons. I don’t know how to build a Pulse weapon, but I will try.”
The Shaman nodded and pulled a flask out of his inner robes. She bent and filled it with Quicksilver, being careful not to let the viscous liquid metal touch her skin. She put the lid on and put it in the pocket of her cloak.
“This won’t guarantee us a win. We will most likely lose and Langundo will fall. But this will give us the best shot.”
Senka nodded, and eyes clear turned from the giant cave, “I’m going to die anyway, you’ve seen this.”
He nodded.
She had known it, had somehow always known. “What must I do?”
“There will be a battle. The false King will lead. You must kill him.”
Senka’s eyes went wide. A false King meant that the Queen was in terrible danger. A sinking feeling hit her in the pit of her stomach, and she turned from the Shaman and fled the cave. She needed to send the Queen a letter with the fastest raven in the village. Terror was starting to seep in as she sprinted out of the cave.
The Shaman watched her go. He knew she would be too late. He hadn’t had the vision soon enough.
Langundo was heading for war.
There was nothing he could do to stop it.
19
Armend
Armend was sitting on his terrace that overlooked the city when Sebastian rushed in, clutching something in his hand.
“You didn’t knock,” Armend said pointedly at the interruption. He set down his tea cup, deliberately making it clink on the table to show his annoyance. Lost in thought, he’d been reminiscing about lovely evenings with his wife and he did not like to be disturbed.
“You never make me knock,” Sebastian said, still clutching what look to be like a piece of paper in his hand. “And if you don’t want what I have, I’ll leave.”
Armend gave him a hard look then held out his hand expectantly. Sebastian was getting a little comfortable with his position. He might need to find a way to take him down a peg before he got too full of himself and started making plans of his own.
Sebastian handed him a folded and dirty piece of paper.
Armend looked at it and started unfolding it, asking, “What is it?”
“I shot a raven heading towards the Queen’s window. Thought you’d like to see the letter it was carrying.”
Armend was suddenly more intrigued. He unfolded the paper and read greedily.
You have no time. You need to get out of the city. Go to the forest North-East of the trees where we exited the tunnel. I will find you. Your life is in danger. The Sol name will be extinguished. Send a letter with a raven when you leave. I WILL FIND YOU. Save yourself.
Senka
Armend read and re-read, absorbing everything said and unsaid. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, closed his eyes and grinned.
Sebastian waited.
“Well, this changes everything doesn’t it?” Armend asked to himself. He seemed to have forgotten that Sebastian was in the room
Armend started to laugh.
“In what way?” Sebastian said. Armend was getting ahead of himself.
“Don’t you see?” Armend said, face animated, “She’s hung herself!”
“Who?”
“The Queen, you dunce!”
“You are reading too far into this. This doesn’t prove anything.”
“Doesn’t prove anything!” Armend snapped angrily. No one was allowed to question his intellect like this, especially Sebastian. “She says that the Queen helped her escape prison! It says it.”
“Where?” Sebastian said, still in his cool cocky manner. He was examining his finger nails. “All it mentions is a tunnel. It doesn’t mention anything else. The King won’t buy it.”
Armend’s eyes went cold, “You don’t know anything.”
Sebastian shrugged.
“Fine, I’ll prove it to you. The Queen should be in the market and council doesn’t start until this afternoon. We’ll go and see the King together. If he doesn’t hang the Queen by tomorrow I’ll give you fifty Kritz.”
“You’re pretty confident,” Sebastian said, giving an easy smile.
Armend rose and said menacingly, “You forget your place. You’re lucky I don’t kill you for that.”
Sebastian shrugged and started playing with the daggers in his belt, “Easy there. You don’t own me. We both know you won’t do anything to me. I like my job. I know too much. If I went and sang to the Queen you would be dead before tomorrow, and I would be the only one who would grieve. All I’m saying is that you missed it in this letter and you’re trying to make things happen when they aren’t there.”
Armend strode past him, “You’re lucky I like you. Are you coming or what?”
Sebastian turned with a sigh and joined him. They walked to their monarch’s chambers in silence, an icy chill over them both. Armend was brooding. He knew what this letter said and knew what it meant. Now he wouldn’t have to kill the Queen like he had planned. He fingered the vial of poison he had in his robes. Sebastian had brought it to him a few days before, purchased from the market. It was used in some Melanthios tribes to coat arrows but worked when swallowed as well, though it was much slower acting. He had kept it on him at all times, hoping for a chance alone with a beverage of the Queen.
He started to smile on the walk, the fresh air gradually changing his mood. Now he wouldn’t have to involve himself and risk killing her, the King would do it. And with the Queen out of the way, the King would be easily manipulated into war.
They reached the door to the King’s and Queen’s chambers and Armend knocked, Sebastian standing a little behind him. A servant boy answered the door. “I’m sorry sir, the King and Queen were not expecting you and I’m afraid the Queen has stepped out.
Armend smiled and answered, “That’s fine. Just take us to the guest chambers and tell the King we are here. If he doesn’t want to see us we can show ourselves out. Bring us some beer after you tell the King we are here.”
The boy nodded and opened the door wide, allowing them in. He led them to the guest room and closed the door.
“Get over to the corner,” Armend said to Sebastian, shooing him with his hand, “I don’t want you to ruin this.”
Sebastian shrugged and went to the corner, sitting by the window sill. He was looking forward to winning fifty Kritz. There was a new bare-knuckle fighter in the market tonight and he wanted to place a bet.
The King strode in, looking harried and tired. “Armend. I’m surprised. You don’t usually bother me in the mornings. What do you need? And where’s that kid? I need a beer to wake up.”
“I already instructed him to bring some,” Armend said. He was trying to do his best to look sad and dejected, even though the excitement raged through him. The boy stepped through with three pints of ale and left the room.
The King collapsed on the couch and put his face in his hands, “Armend, make this good. I have a hangover and I’m not in the mood for whatever it is you and your minion have to say. Council starts soon and I need to prepare.”
“We have intercepted a letter intended for the Queen,” Armend said. The King sat up fast and his eyes bored into Armend’s face. Suddenly and without question, Armend knew he had made a terrible mistake.
The King went bright, “You have greatly overstepped your bounds.” He was so angry the words were coming one at a time. Armend stood up and backed toward the door, trying to look abashed. “How dare you! How dare you intercept a letter to my wife? It’s none of your business what my wife does and who she receives letters from. It’s not even any of my business,” The King stood up, grabbed a pint of ale from the table and threw it at the wal
l. It whizzed past Armend’s ear and shattered, soaking the carpet. He grabbed a second glass and took a large drink, slammed it back onto the table and started pacing the room.
“It speaks of treason, my lord,” Armend stammered.
The King whipped around and pointed at him, “I don’t give a fuck what it talks about. You’re supposed to be my uncle. You’re supposed to respect me and thus, respect my wife. Where is it?” When Armend stood still, the King said slowly, “Where. Is. It?”
Armend held it out to him. This was not going how he had planned. He looked foolish. And the embarrassment quickly morphed into anger. That stupid boy was going to let his wife do whatever she wanted because he had no backbone to control her. What kind of man lets his wife make the decisions?
The King strode forward and snatched the letter from Armend’s hands. He didn’t even read it, just threw it in the fire. The King watched it burn, back towards him. Armend’s hands shook violently. Anger clouded everything. He made a brash decision and quickly pulled the Melanthios vial out of his robes and emptied it into the King’s glass of ale.
He should have done this long ago.
“I’m sorry I overstepped,” Armend said to the King’s back. “We’ll leave. I will see you at council. I hope we can mend this. I’m just trying to take care of my nephew.”
The King grunted, ignoring them, and stared at the jumping flame. Armend and Sebastian left the chamber. Sebastian held out his hand and Armend pushed passed him, “I’m not fucking paying you. Get over it.” Armend’s face was red and he was breathing in short gasps. He strode away from Sebastian.
“Careful,” Sebastian called after him, “You don’t have a lot of friends left.”
The incomprehensible yell that Armend let loose at him made Sebastian chuckle and he followed Armend at a safe distance.
Armend knew that Sebastian would follow him and protect him, just like he knew he would pay Sebastian. He just needed time to cool off. What he just did started to hit him. Sol XVII would understand and forgive him. He was protecting Solias, and if that meant murdering his best friend’s son? Well, so be it.
