"And that's the story of just a few of the lives you've ruined. We all revolve around you, trying to find some way to save you from this fate. A death you richly deserve. Elonumato's favored child." Chialao spat on the ground. "Why should you survive? Why should the end of your days be pleasant when so many others have suffered? Do you think you are the only one to sacrifice? Why does your life matter more?"
"So all that is happening is my fault. If I was dead, there would not be an issue," Amelia said tightly.
"You're the reason Cohsaw died. He was only a child. But that fool allowed his only son to enter the Paras' camp, knowing what his son would choose, and that poor boy died because he wanted to give you a chance at survival. And he is not the only one." Spittle flew from her mouth. The muscles in her neck tightened, and a vein grew along her forehead. "You are nothing. The daughter of murder and sorcery. Your mother severed your father's testicles after you were conceived because she didn't want him to father any more. You were created from a curse, from the butchered corpses of forty infants and children! You are worse than a monster because at least monsters are honest about what they will do. They know they will tear out souls and end lives. But you…you simply draw the monsters in your wake and let us die as we defend you."
Amelia found it hard to even comprehend the words any longer. Kepsalon had said nothing, simply pacing this whole time. "So you and your friends are the only ones who can see this?" Amelia asked. Her gaze slipped to Chialao, reaching her pupils. But this time when it began to draw her in, she pulled back, refusing to enter Chialao's mind. It was a powerful instinct, a deep revulsion. The coldness expanded in both her chest and mind, bringing a deadly calm to her and threatening to smother all the other emotions entirely. "I have never asked for anyone to make sure my end is happy or even pleasant."
"But you want that. Let's not pretend."
Amelia's eyes narrowed. An odd impulse struck her. She turned her hands out as if to receive something, her wrists and palms facing Chialao. The blackness tugged at her again, but she braced herself. The cold surged forward, through her hands, twined with the emotion and intent. "I want to know why." Images flickered before her eyes, lasting only a moment before vanishing.
"Do not try to read my thoughts, pinchat!" Chialao snarled. She strained at the coarse ropes that held her to the beam. "Get her out of here. I will endure her presence no longer. I curse you, Kilona! I curse you, Inale! I curse you, Amelia! No matter how many times you change your name, you will always bring the stench of death with you. May no one ever be fooled into thinking that you are—"
The flicker returned. Amelia reached for it. At once, awareness and realization flooded within her. It ran through her hand and up to her mind. A vision played out before her, swift but vivid. "Your father…" The cold settled in on her harder, driving all compassion and softness from her heart. But the images became all the clearer. "Your father was killed in a rock slide."
Chialao's lips trembled. Though hatred still flamed in her eyes, tears streamed down her blunt-bladed cheeks. "If it had not been for you, so many Machat would still be alive. We would have found a better place. A happier place. You should be reviled."
Amelia clasped her hand around the air. She was doing it. She was reading Chialao's mind. She had gotten the answer to her question! She took another deep breath, stabilizing herself. The cold had not yet overwhelmed her. Flickers of emotion and warmth tugged at the corners of her mind, warning her not to go too far. "My fault?" she repeated. She shook her head. "You are wrong. The Paras are the ones who killed. You blame me over them. Why?"
Chialao's eyes widened. She ground her teeth together, writhing within her bonds. "Go! Before I curse you more."
Amelia did not understand these dueling temperatures that rose within her. Some small part of her feared being entirely swept up in the cold, but it brought with it quite a unique clarity of mind.
Chialao's intentions were obvious now. She wanted to distract Amelia. "If I am guilty of what you say, then may all your curses and more fall upon me. But if I am innocent, let them fall upon you. Now why would you blame me over the Paras? Do you actually oppose the Paras?"
Chialao strained back. The muscles in her neck and veins in her forehead bulged.
"You think I am forcing them to violence? That if I surrendered…" Once more, something flickered before Amelia's eyes. It almost escaped. Once again, instinct swept in, and she reached out to pull it toward herself. It flew within her hand, spreading warmth back up to her mind and bringing with it more information. She closed her eyes, drawing in a sharp breath. Numerous images flashed before her mind, and with it came a horrible realization.
Amelia pulled back. "You haven't caught all the Truth Bringers! Kepsalon, where are the other elders? They have to know what's about to happen."
* * *
WroOth spiraled through the sky. The wind rushing against his face always left him a little more peaceful. Not that it lasted more than a few minutes after he landed, but every bit counted.
Down below, Naatos and AaQar continued on their way. AaQar swam in the river, now a black speckled eel. Naatos ran along the bank, taking it in leaps and bounds, varying between his veldrok wolf and veldrok lion form. For now, all was well.
WroOth drew his wings back and shifted into a sleek blue dragon. It glowed and burned through him, the scales, muscles, and sinews folding in some places and expanding in others, his legs and wings lengthening and his lungs filling with new air. Adrenaline surged through his veins along with endorphins that countered the pain as the transformation concluded. Shifting in midair, particularly in midflight, was quite a risk to take, but by all the howling moons, shining deserts, and wailing seas, there was nothing like that moment of pure freedom.
Well, not much.
WroOth shot his wings out and propelled himself forward before he clamped his wings back again. Turning his face to the ground, he plummeted, his eyes closed. Glorious!
Down, down, down he went. Exhilaration flowed through him. Then, abruptly he snapped himself up. Reeds struck his legs as he arced up into the sky.
"Any closer next time and you'll be wearing the ground for a mask!" AaQar shouted from the river, water gurgling around his mouth.
WroOth spun upside down and looked back at his brothers, grinning. It was always good to know they cared. AaQar in particular. So long as he cared, AaQar wouldn't end himself any time soon. With any luck, he never would.
Polfradon was directly ahead. Unfurling his wings, WroOth shot beyond his brothers and angled toward his chambers. The windows were still open, as usual. But that wasn't the tricky part. It was nailing the entrance with a double transformation.
WroOth shot through the opening, beginning the transformation into a smaller dragon as soon as his head passed over the window ledge. He finished within seconds and returned to his state of rest, his feet striking the ground. His boots skidded on the stone floor, but he caught his balance on the bed post and steadied himself. It still felt as if he was moving.
"Most impressive, Para."
WroOth did not recognize the voice, and he did not know who would possibly be in his room. Not that he would let that be known. "I'm always impressive." He turned, barely restraining his annoyance. It didn't sound like any of the Talbokians.
A slender figure robed in black stood in the corner of the room nearest the window, arms folded and head lifted. The long cotton-lined hood covered the face. The scent was familiar. Paints, charcoal, parchment, oil, and incense.
Machat.
Disgust and rage rose within WroOth at once. He angled forward, making no effort to hide his feelings. "And what brings you here, stranger? Curiosity? A death wish perhaps? I'm inclined to grant the latter."
WroOth cracked his neck, giving the stranger a half-smile as he evaluated her. Slight build. No apparent armor. Utterly defenseless. Practically no muscle development if the hands and wrists were any indication. He could have probably killed this stranger if he'd c
rashed into her on his entry.
The Machat laughed slightly, though it sounded forced. "Peace, great leader. My companions and I seek only peace. Give us what we want, and we will see to it that you receive what you most desire."
"Companions, you say. How delightful. I do hope they haven't decided to bother my brothers. I fear they'd find Naatos in a particularly raw mood at the moment, and even AaQar isn't his usual reasonable self." WroOth debated whether to kill the Machat with his bare hands or grab his club. Or perhaps he could just throw her out the window.
WroOth picked up one of the spear shafts he had been carving, one he would never finish. He tossed it to his other hand. "Of course, thanks to your people, I am not in the best of moods either."
"Your mood will be much improved after you hear what we are prepared to give you."
"Oh, you have found a way to return my wife and children to me." WroOth glared at the Machat. "Find a way to bring them back from the dead, and perhaps I'll listen. But as it is, I can think of no real reason to not at least maim you."
"Wait!" the Machat exclaimed, holding up her hands. "What about Kepsalon, the interfering Ayamin, and your sister?"
WroOth paused, still holding the spear. "What about them?"
The Machat took a deep breath. Her hands shook. "Give us what we want, and we will deliver all three of them into your hands for you and your brothers to do with as you choose."
12
Need
"What did you see?" Kepsalon demanded, coming alongside Amelia.
Amelia lifted her hand again, her gaze fixed on Chialao. "She and her friends, the Truth Bringers, they've been testing you all along. Trying to see if you would notice. But you were all so focused on the Tue-Rah's restoration that you missed the signs, the warnings."
It was all clear before her now. The thoughts glistened in her mind, clear as cut diamonds. The calm surrounding her was beautiful, and the stillness made it easy for her to focus on Chialao once more. "They want the Paras to rule. To rule all of the worlds. To cleanse the worlds and reintroduce the Tue-Rahs. Only some of them have been caught. One is going to Polfradon by this time. Felsa. She is to create an alliance between the Truth Bringers and the Paras. They will give the Paras you, Shon, and me. And they will show the Paras and their army the path to New Istador before the Tue-Rah's restoration."
Anger burned along the edges of Amelia's consciousness. The full weight of what this woman and her companions had done sank in Amelia, bringing with it fury. Amelia jabbed her finger at Chialao. "You are the traitor."
Chialao spat in her face. "I am a visionary."
Amelia wiped the spittle from her cheeks, glaring. Her breath rushed in and out as blood pounded in her ears. "You lecture me about destroying people's lives," she said, enunciating each word. "And yet you betray your own people? Do you know how many will die? Men, women, and children, Awdawm and Machat, cut down like livestock in a slaughterhouse and left to burn on the mountainside." Amelia wanted to strike Chialao's sneering face. Her fingernails cut into her palms again. Her voice shook. "And Shon! You told me I didn't deserve him. That I'm the reason he will die. But you're the one who betrays him. You're going to give him over to the Paras."
Every last shred of the comforting calm and coldness vanished into an oblivion of heat as the scenes from Chialao's mind poured through Amelia's vision again. She saw the walls of New Istador exposed and crushed, smoke rising from the ruins, corpses spread across the rocks like red spatters on a canvas. And Shon…those images stabbed through her chest. He lay on a riverbank, his body beaten, cold, and lifeless. Blood stained his uniform, and water filled his mouth.
Amelia clenched her eyes shut, turning her face away. The pain startled her, both in depth and intensity. No, Shon wasn't going to die. She wouldn't let him.
She turned to Kepsalon. "You have to warn the elders. Everyone. We have to leave this place. And Shon…" She choked on his name. Terror swept through her. "They're coming."
"How long do we have, Chialao?" Kepsalon sounded neither surprised nor devastated. Only stern. "Has the messenger reached Naatos and his brothers yet?"
"There's nothing you can do to stop any of this now." Chialao forced a laugh. "Felsa will have arrived. And they will accept our offer. How can they refuse it? This legacy of failure will burn to ash, and the true strength of the Paras will be revealed. But not before you suffer. All of you."
Amelia stiffened. The awareness that her elmis brought her revealed so much it was almost overwhelming. "You don't even care that innocents will suffer," she cried. "Babies. Toddlers. Children. You don't even care!"
The rage exploded within her. She struck Chialao in the face. Though the blow was sharp, it did not satisfy her. She struck Chialao again, striking her in the head, the throat, the chest. But with each hit, her rage increased.
"You're bringing them here, and you don't even care!" she screamed. Everything blurred around her, swirling and whizzing around her, sucking her into a void.
"Amelia!" Kepsalon seized Amelia by the shoulders and dragged her back. "Amelia, hush, that's enough!"
The world snapped back into focus. Chialao slumped against the pole, unconscious now. Blood streamed from her nose and mouth, but she still breathed.
The realization of what she'd done struck Amelia almost as hard as the knowledge of what was to come. She had just attacked a defenseless woman. As smarmy and horrid as Chialao was, she'd been vulnerable.
Amelia trembled. "What's happening to me?" she whispered. "I am—"
"No." Kepsalon caught her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. "Now you must listen to me. Things are not so bad as they think nor are they as dire as they appear. We knew more than these Truth Bringers realized, but these plans must be set into place. Now tell me: is Chialao speaking the truth when she says that Felsa will have reached Polfradon by this time?"
Amelia's shoulders dropped, and she nodded numbly. It had been so beautiful to read Chialao's mind at first. The information was just that: information that she could see, detached and unconnected. But then she'd slipped. And all of those images she'd seen, spilling over with emotion, heat, and horror. "Kepsalon, how can we fix this? Everyone is going to die."
"No, no." Kepsalon hushed her. "No child or infant will perish in this attack if we move swiftly. New Istador is not alone. Nialan received a warning some time ago that some had grown restless and that we were to take certain actions. We did as we were warned, and though we did not foresee all of this, we have made some preparations. The Truth Bringers are not skilled in prophecy or foretelling."
Amelia gripped his forearm. "Then Shon will live too."
It was only a subtle flash in Kepsalon's eyes. A look of pity and sadness, yet it stabbed through Amelia's heart. "Kepsalon…"
"It will come down to Naatos's decision," Kepsalon said. "No matter where Shon goes, no matter where you go, Naatos will find him. And it will be his choice. I'm sorry, Amelia."
Amelia choked on her tears. "He'll kill him, won't he? There's nothing I can do to make him spare Shon, and I can't give Naatos what he wants until I know—"
"Don't waste your tears, my dear," Kepsalon said. "Deep down, you know what you need to do to have the best chance of seeing him again. I must speak to the elders now. There is much to be done. If Felsa is already with the Paras, we have at least thirty-eight hours. Seventy, at most. But whatever you do, don't leave without me, Amelia. I promised you lessons on becoming a Neyeb, and there are several things you must learn. Though frankly…you are progressing by leaps and bounds. Your instincts and passions are as sharp as your father's and mother's. It won't take long. Now."
Kepsalon picked up a walking stick from the corner of the room and flung open the doors. "Take Chialao to the Levthro with the others. Let Elonumato's messenger deal with her when he comes at the dawn," Kepsalon said to the two Machat attendants. He then turned back to Amelia. "I must speak to the elders. Be back here in five hours, Amelia."
The two attendan
ts obeyed Kepsalon, springing forward at once. They cut Chialao down with ornately painted narrow knives.
"What's going to happen to her?" Amelia asked, moving closer to the doors.
"She and the other Truth Bringers violated our most sacred laws and the trust of our gift. But what happens to them when the messenger takes them, we don't know."
Amelia moved away, her hand pressed to her mouth. The knot in her throat and stomach remained. How could Chialao and the Truth Bringers have done this? They had nearly caused a riot, and if they had succeeded in their plans, almost everyone in this place would be dead within a few days.
A thousand thoughts clamored for Amelia's attention. Bumping into the wall, Amelia pressed her hand against it, digging her fingers into the deep pits. From the way Kepsalon spoke, most everyone would be saved. But Shon…
Amelia closed her eyes. The images of Shon's broken body returned, tormenting her in their vividness. The pallor of his face. The blueness of his lips. The welts on his neck, his arms, and his shoulders mottled his skin.
Covering her mouth, Amelia strangled her sobs. Not now! I don't have time for this. Think, Amelia, think! She pressed her bloody palms to her forehead. What did Kepsalon mean when he said that she knew what she needed to do?
The answer came to her then, so quiet she could have ignored it. But as soon as it presented itself, she could no longer deny its existence. A half sob tore from her mouth as she leaned forward. Her breaths rushed in and out, rapid and shuddering.
"I know what I need to do," she whispered. Wiping Chialao's blood on her stained dress, she started back toward Shon and Matthu's chamber.
Already a heavy feeling had descended upon New Istador. Amelia passed several Machat in the halls, each of them carrying supplies or loading skelros with food, clothing, and rope. Reaching the door to Shon and Matthu's room, Amelia pressed it open and knocked quickly.
Enemy Known Page 10
