The God King (Book 1) (Heirs of the Fallen) Page 21

  Chapter 29

  Varis studied the huge map stretched across the table. Its inks were so bright that they seemed to glow within the well-lit Golden Hall. The map was made from a hundred pieces of the finest vellum, each square stitched together so precisely that the seams were nearly invisible. But it wasn’t the making of the map that interested him, only the lands upon it.

  West of the island kingdom of Kelren, north of Izutar, east of Aradan, and far south of Geldain, artfully painted clouds filled the map’s edges. Beyond those clouds lay mystery. Some thought nothing waited beyond those borders, save danger and death leftover from the creation of the world. Varis silently vowed to discover the truth.

  First he had many familiar kingdoms to conquer, those once ruled by the Suanahad Empire.

  For centuries after Edaer Kilvar, the First King, shattered the stranglehold of the Empire, Aradan had grown in power and influence until becoming so bloated, rich, and apathetic, that she had to resort to filling her armies with peoples conquered long before, the offspring of the barbarians of Izutar, a folk who were more like animals than men. Straight away, Varis meant to wash his kingdom clean with the blood of those lesser peoples.

  Varis’s eye crossed over Izutar, and he smiled.

  His councilors had argued that Izutar, with its loose coalition of kings, was stronger since their war with Falseth two decades earlier. Be that as it may, Varis knew they posed no threat. They were but witless brutes who preferred rutting with hounds instead of women. Oh, they spoke of honor and duty, did the Izutarians, but they readily sold either for gold. They were easily manipulated fools, and as such, they would fall to ruin in short order. And if by chance Izutar proved more formidable than he allowed, then he would destroy them with fire and shadow drawn from the very heart of Geh’shinnom’atar. By sword or by the Powers of Creation, all that mattered in the end was that Izutar would eventually cease to exist.

  He took another sip of wine, already savoring the songs of lament that Izutarian women and children would one day sing. Such would be a paean to him, but it would not restrain his hand. They were not even fit to serve as slaves, to his mind. The utter annihilation of Izutar would serve as a lesson to the world that it dare not stand against him—

  One of the throne room’s doors banged open, and the man Varis had been expecting sauntered in, a smug look lighting his worn features. The man sketched a bow. “It is done, my Liege. The Izutarian is on his way.”

  The Izutarian, Varis considered darkly. Such had the ring of an honorific, and might well become a rallying cry for future martyrs. He saw straight away that he could not allow its usage, but now was not the moment to rename Kian yet again. He would have to think on it, come up with a turn of phrase or title so vile that only a blind fool would think to use it to engender hope.

  “I wonder, Durrin,” Varis said, “how hard was it for you to betray your friends?”

  The old guardsman flicked a coin spinning into the air and caught it with a grin. “Not so hard, my Liege.”

  “Indeed,” Varis said. He motioned to the two door guards. Before Durrin could turn, they filled his back with steel. The man slid off their swords and crumpled to the floor. He was trying to talk, but couldn’t find his voice.

  Before the door guards could gather him up, Varis motioned again. “Leave him. A traitor to one is a traitor to all. I’d like to watch him bleed awhile. You can clean up later.”

  After the doors boomed shut, Varis drained the last of his wine, and then laughed out loud. He had found great joy in tormenting Kian, but he was not through with him yet. Often a man could endure his own suffering, but rarely could that same man witness the suffering of those he cared for. I will break him. Every inch of his flesh, every bone in his body. But in the end, what Varis desired most was to crush Kian Valara’s soul. And to trap a few rats in the bargain, those who might give aid to Kian? Why, nothing could be more satisfactory.

  Chapter 30

  Before arriving at Hya’s shop, the gusty winds had become a bitter gale, driving litter down empty streets and sending everyone indoors. For perhaps the first time in ten generations, the usual reek of the Chalice was gone.

  Azuri was silent as he climbed down from the wagon’s seat. Hazad clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Ellonlef found herself constantly blinking, fearing that her eyes would freeze over.

  The side door opened and Hya peeked out at them, then shot a baleful eye toward the starless sky. “This cold will bring more death to an already troubled land.”

  Ellonlef helped Hazad and Azuri carry Kian inside. Hya shuffled ahead, leading them to a prepared room. A brazier heaped with glowing coals took some of the edge off the cold, but not much. Once Kian was laid out on a pallet of old blankets, everyone stood back. Looking at his wounds, Hya clucked her tongue in dismay.

  “You’re the better healer,” Ellonlef said gravely. “Tell me what you need.”

  Hya slowly drew a blanket over him, then looked at the others, her milky eyes shiny with wet. “I can do nothing, save comfort him. He should’ve perished before he reached the Pit. How he lasted this long is beyond me.”

  Stifling a moan, Ellonlef fell to her knees at Kian’s side. She clasped one of his blood-crusted hands in both of hers. He had used the same hand to comfort her, when she learned of Rida’s fate. Now that hand was cold as death.

  You can’t die! We need you! I need you! She had never needed anyone, but now that she did, he was dying.

  A single, gulping sob wracked her chest. Searing tears fell on the moth-eaten blankets covering him. A flushing tingle crept over her skin, something familiar, something that brought to mind a dark place where rocks were exploding around her, smashing against her, killing her. And then she was again facing a Mahk’lar, and where her blade struck, there were sparks of blue fire—

  Kian muttered.

  Startled gasps erupted from those hovering over Ellonlef’s shoulder. Her eyes flew wide as a faint blue shimmer spread from her hands over Kian, covering him like an azure cocoon. By heartbeats, that soothing glow grew brighter, forcing her to squint.

  His back arched violently, and his coverings fell away. The raw holes in his arms swiftly mended. Where ribs had shown under deep slashes, the muscles knitted together. Over it all formed new, flawless skin. Then the blue shroud sank into him and was gone. Ellonlef reeled and would have toppled, but for Hazad’s strong grip.

  Kian seemed to be struggling for breath. He looked this way and that, panicked. Azuri knelt, his gray eyes searching Kian’s face. Then he laughed. “I told you once before, you great oaf, you must breathe if you don’t wish to suffocate.”

  Kian sucked in a great gasping breath, followed by an explosive coughing fit. All stared as his breathing became regular. His hand floundered about until finding Ellonlef’s. His pulse thudded in his now warm grip.

  As her gaze locked with his, it was as if the world had been swept away, leaving only the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. In that moment, it dawned on her that she knew him as she never had before. In truth, she had never known anyone, save herself, with such intimacy. It was both wonderful and frightening. And it was unnatural, this sharing.

  Pain and loss were at the center of him, born of the loss of his homelands and his family during the war between Falseth and Izutar. As well, she felt a sense of nobility and devotion inside him so vast it startled her. The carefully guarded kindness in his heart, something she had once believed to be nonexistent, was rivaled only by an iron core that demanded fairness and justice in all things.

  But how? How do I know these things. The answer was slow in coming, but plain. The Powers of Creation. Somehow, he had given some measure of those mysterious forces to her, binding them together. But when? Again Ellonlef remembered rocks smashing her, and how a great crushing pain had pushed her into darkness. When she had come awake, she had been whole, with no hurts at all….

  Kian released her hand, eyes dazed. “I must sleep ... just
for a moment,” he whispered, the last word trailing off to a peaceful sigh.

  Ellonlef glanced at Hazad and Azuri, and they shared a moment of warmth and joy, savoring that Kian was alive.

  Hya cleared her throat, unspoken questions in her milky gaze. “He cannot sleep long. No doubt word will reach Varis of Kian’s escape, and he will begin the hunt.”

  Ellonlef nodded slowly, the full truth of what had happened settling over her. That she had held within her the Powers of Creation without ever knowing it was astounding, but more astounding was that Kian would live. But only so long as they escaped Ammathor and Varis.

  “What do you suggest?” Ellonlef asked.

  “We must prepare to leave, while Kian gets what rest he can.”

  Chapter 31

  Ruin him, a disembodied voice rasped.

  Kian’s eyes flew open. The memory of what Varis had ordered done to him was fresh, but he felt no pain. He flexed his hands, expecting agony but finding strength. He let his fingers slowly, fearfully, investigate his torso. Instead of raw wounds, they found whole skin.

  The memory of the Pit also lived inside of him, but he was no longer there. Hazad and Azuri and Ellonlef had come for him, brought him to a witch’s hovel … no, a pyromancer…. No they brought me to Hya’s shop, a Sister of Najihar, like Ellonlef.

  He blinked several times, seeing a hovering face. A beautiful face. A face wracked by misery. Ellonlef’s face. She had done something to him. As his eyes cleared, he saw it wasn’t Ellonlef above him at all.

  “You’re awake,” Hya said with a dry cackle. “Good. Saves me the effort of rousing your lazy bones.”

  “How long have I been here?” Kian asked.

  Hya stood away from him with much effort, curiosity lighting her wizened features. “Less than an hour.”

  Kian gasped. He would have said weeks or months had passed since he was thrown into the Pit.

  “How...?” the question disintegrated, because he suddenly knew how it had happened. The Powers of Creation had been used to knit his flesh ... and those powers had been wielded by Ellonlef. Have we all been washed in the powers of dead gods?

  Hazad burst into the room, looking frantic. Melting snow wetted his wild black hair. When his eyes fell on Kian, he seemed to forget whatever was troubling him, and a wide grin split his face. Tears shone in the big man’s eyes, as he leaned over and plastered slobbery lips against his captain’s brow. Smothering under the man’s drenched beard braids, Kian jabbed him in the ribs with a curse.

  Azuri came in next. He drew back the hood of his cloak, surveyed the scene with a slight smirk, and clasped hands with Kian. “While I’m sure this bumbling lout would drool on you the rest of the night,” he said, “we have no time. A company of the House Guard and twenty or more lancers are fast approaching. If I do not miss my guess, they have a very good idea where we are.”

  “How?” Ellonlef demanded, coming in behind them.

  “Durrin, most like,” Hazad said, looking abashed. “Bastard’s turned on us.”

  “Durrin?” Kian snarled, flinging aside his blankets and jumping to his feet. “Only missing a tail and whiskers keeps everyone from mistaking him for a rat. Gods good and wise, why did you go to him?”

  “At the time,” Azuri said with a sour expression, “rats were all we had to count on.”

  “Yes, well, next time….” Kian trailed off, noticing the chill of the room, at the same time he saw Ellonlef’s wide eyes and the blush on her cheeks. He looked down at himself. Healers, he thought darkly, can never wait to get a man out of his clothes. “Unless you expect me to fight like a Whitehold savage, I’ll need something to wear.”

  Ellonlef fled the room.

  “There will be no fighting, Izutarian,” Hya said, not hiding her study of him in the least. “We must flee Aradan.”

  Kian shook his head. “If I run from Varis now, he’ll only grow stronger.”

  “He nearly killed you the first time,” Hya admonished.

  “I could’ve killed him, but I hesitated. His men captured me. I’ll not let that happen again.”

  Ellonlef returned with an armful of clothes and a pair of boots. In a babbling voice, she said, “I found a trunkful of clothes, Sister Hya. In the back room. You know the one. I didn’t think you’d mind. I hope they fit you, Kian.” Looking somewhere over his shoulder, she flung the lot of it into his face, then fled again.

  You’d think she had never seen a man naked, he thought. Pretty as she is, that’s hard to……. The thought faded. Somehow, he knew she had never seen a man naked, at least not one who wasn’t injured and in her care. How can I know that?

  He pushed that aside. “I have to reach the palace in secret,” he said to Hya.

  “You are sure this is the path you wish to take?” Hya asked.

  “There is no other. From what I’ve seen, I alone can get close enough to stop Varis.”

  “You mean kill him?”

  “I meant to kill him the last time,” Kian said. “This time I will.”

  Hya tapped her chin. “There is a man I know. He’s a snake, a smuggler, and a lawbreaker of the worst sort.”

  Hazad snorted. “Perfect.”

  Kian tugged on his boots. They fit well enough, if a bit snug. He dragged on a thick woolen cloak. “If snakes are my only choice, then snakes it is.”

  A sudden clangor of steel crashing against steel rang in the distance. As versed as he was in that particular music, Kian was not surprised by the screams and shouts he heard next.

  Running footsteps told of Ellonlef’s return. “A company of the House Guard is just outside. They are under attack from soldiers of the Crimson Scorpion Legion!”

  “Brothers of the sword fighting each other?” Hazad said, dragging out his huge sword. “That’s madness!”

  “The Crimson Scorpion Legion is made up of Prince Sharaal’s chosen men,” Azuri said thoughtfully.

  Kian nodded, a slow grin coming to his lips. One thing about highborn the world over, they were prickly about keeping what they counted as theirs. “Seems the father has come to take back what the son stole.”

  “The Ivory Throne will be washed in blood,” Hya said.

  Kian shrugged. “That tends to be the way of thrones. In this case, I’d call it a blessing. Tonight, I’m going to give Sharaal a throne."

  Ellonlef, who had not heard the plan, raised her eyebrows in alarm. “You mean to go after Varis again?”

  “Who better?” Kian asked.

  “You cannot! This is bullheaded foolishness. You.…” her protest faded. Kian gazed calmly at her, waiting to hear the rest. Instead, a strange light came into her eyes, something like understanding. Or maybe it was acceptance. A grudging one at that. “You … you have no other choice,” she finished, voice hollow.

  I wish there were, he thought. Aloud, he said, “Let’s go find your man, Sister Hya.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “You need weapons,” Azuri advised.

  Kian’s hand fell to his bare side, and he felt more naked than he had moments before.

  “This way,” Hya said, quickly shuffling into a another room. “You’ll find what you need under the mattress.”

  Kian dragged a lumpy pile of bedding off a layer of gray slats. Shoving these aside, he saw the gleam of steel and great amounts of rust.

  He took only as much time as he dared in choosing out a dagger and sword. Both had good weight and decent balance, as well as scabbards. Of their pitted blades and cracked leather hilts, there was nothing for it. He found a belt and strapped everything on.

  At Kian’s nod, Azuri led them into the dim hallway, which was slashed now with lurid orange firelight and dancing shadows.

  “Something’s burning,” Hya said, alarmed.

  With quiet urgency, Kian bustled the others along until they reached the makeshift stable. The air was colder than Kian remembered. The eyes of the horses rolled, reflecting the light of nearby fires. The way the wind was howling, the whole Chalice might bu
rn before dawn.

  Azuri peered out through a crack in the wall. “No one is in the alley, far as I can see.”

  Kian kicked the rickety door, ripping it free of the hinges. Before it could fall, the snow-laden gale sent it soaring down the alley like a leaf.

  “Do we ride, or go afoot?” Kian asked Hya.

  She stood gaping at the chaos outside. Flames raged from the roof of the next building over, and thick swirls of smoke tangled themselves with the snow. Screaming men and women were running past the mouth of the alley, harried along by armed horsemen.

  He caught her plump shoulders, gave her a gentle shake.

  “By foot,” she said. “Best to mingle with the crowds.”

  That was enough for Kian. He cut the lead ropes and sent the horses into the storm with a smack on their rumps. He glanced at Hazad.

  The big man rolled his eyes. “I’ll lead. The rest of you just make sure no one pokes a sword up my arse.”

  Kian and Azuri fell in behind Hazad, and placed Hya and Ellonlef between them. With a bearish roar, Hazad led them into a maelstrom of wind and snow, screams, blood, fear, and raging fire. Hazad was a ram before them, battering aside anyone who came too close. The rest followed, forming a bristling wedge of sharp blades.

  The big man halted them when a handful of riders thundered past, their swords and cudgels falling on bobbing heads. Their victims, old and young, tumbled through the snow, leaving trails of blood. The sounding of a horn turned the murderers as a dozen mounted soldiers of the House Guard charged toward them. Outnumbered, the ruffians wheeled their mounts and galloped away, with the House Guard surging after them.

  Hazad set off again, turning onto different streets at Hya’s breathless commands. While the streets changed, the disorder grew sharper, more vile. Fires leaped from building to building. Corpses and moaning wounded littered the ground. Mostly, those who could run, did so.