All the King's Traitors

by Keylin Rivers

  A shout echoed through the hall.

  “Shall we?” Dane said, motioning for her to take the lead.

  Kari walked past him and down the hallway. They walked the rest of the way in silence, the only sounds between them were the hallow echoes of their heels on the stone floors and the screams of the wicked.

  “Ah, the last to arrive,” Xenophon said from down the hallway, motioning for them to take their places next to Amelie and Lord Salmond. Noramilli was at his side, a crystal bowl in his hands. Four goblets were poised on top of the wooden table that was clearly brought down from the palace halls above them.

  Dane grabbed her arm and pulled her close. He whispered harshly in her ear so only she could hear. “They will try to break us today. Do not let them.”

  Kari looked up at him. Even without listening to Mímrvor, she could tell that all of his calmness had vanished and the mighty Dane was scared.

  She looked at Amelie, who was, surprisingly, appropriately clothed for the cold. Amelie caught Kari’s eye from where she stood beside her, and she smiled. Kari’s cheeks flushed and she turned her gaze away, but she could still smell the familiar scent of pine leaves coming from Amelie. It was comforting.

  “Welcome, competitors, to your final Ascension Trial,” Xenophon said, folding his hands behind his back. “Today, like all heirs before you, we test your mental fortitude and your devotion to the God-King. You will discover who you truly are in this trial—the Enlightenment Trial.”

  Mímrvor’s tune echoed in Kari’s head. The sound of four Godstones in such a small hallway was quite loud, but at least it drowned out the occasional screams of the prisoners.

  “For the next day, you will be locked away in a cell with nothing but yourself and your thoughts.” Xenophon motioned to the goblets. “Before you go in, you will drink the Nightwine we have prepared for you.”

  Kari’s mouth went dry. She had heard stories of Nightwine, made from the roots of the nightshade and other toxic plants and mixed into wine. It was the drug of choice for rapists and thieves and was used in the palace only to question the worst of them all.

  “Noramilli, please pass out the Nightwine.”

  Noramilli proceeded to pass out the goblets.

  “Good luck,” he mouthed when he handed Kari the goblet. Kari slowly blinked in response, careful to make certain no one witnessed his favouritism.

  The rest of the competitors received their glasses. Kari looked down. The thick purple liquid vibrated with the slight tremble of her hand.

  “One last thing,” Xenophon said, and Noramilli stepped forward with the crystal bowl. “The Nighwine will have a great effect on you, and the God-King does not want you to be a danger to yourself.”

  Kari’s heart fluttered and her hand immediately went to Mímrvor.

  “You will give up your Godstones for the duration of this Trial,” Xenophon said. Noramilli stepped forward with the bowl. “Place them here.”

  Kari starred at the crystal bowl, her heart and head both pounding. Mímrvor’s blaring tune reflected her panic. She hadn’t been without Mímrvor in years. Kari leaned back against the wall behind her, placing one of her palms flat on the surface and the other defensively over Mímrvor. Her chest tightened and she suddenly felt like the walls were closing in. She closed her eyes tight and took laboured breaths. She pushed her hand against the moist wall, trying to orient herself.

  The sounds of metal panging against the crystal snapped her attention back to the room. She couldn’t give him up. She wouldn’t.

  Amelie stepped forward and removed her armband, placing it into the bowl. Kari’s eyes darted all around, looking for an escape. But there was none.

  Dane moved next, pulling his stone’s necklace out from under his shirt and placing it into the bowl.

  All eyes were on her.

  She wanted to run, she had to. She couldn’t lose him.

  Xenophon held out his hand towards her and his face became much less serious. “Come Kari, it is just for now.”

  Kari’s breathing slowed, but Mímrvor’s song did not.

  “Just one day.” Xenophon smiled.

  Kari’s eyes darted around the hall. There was no way out. She looked back at Xenophon. She could fight them; Xenophon was weak after all.

  “Kari…” Amelie said cautiously, and Kari could feel her hand fall to her shoulder.

  No, she could do this. She would see the trials through. It was her duty.

  Kari pushed off the wall and Amelie’s hand fell from her shoulder. The hand that held Mímrvor trembled as she pulled him off her neck. Mímrvor’s tune was so loud it made her wince.

  She shuffled forward and her hand hovered over the crystal bowl. She closed her eyes and turned her head, unable to see him leave her. With tears streaming down her cheeks and the sounds of the prisoners and Mímrvor’s screams rattling in her brain, Kari took a deep breath and let him go.

  Chapter 41

  The Southern Sea, 30th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.

  Rohan stood on the foredeck of his ship, facing the sea, the pit of his stomach twisting in knots. He had been instructed by Hectar earlier in the day to lead this warship south, with no mention of the intent. Now, they laid anchor on the southernmost tip of Sable as the sun was beginning to set. Rohan could think of only one reason the entire armada would be there.

  He turned to face his ship, the soldiers preparing to sail. The knot in the pit of his stomach twisted tighter, as if a hand were clenching the innards of his gut. This was all his fault. Someone must have overheard his conversation with the group at the gate, or followed them. He shook his head. He should have known not to let them through. He had left the Free-Wielders, and he had no obligation to help those passing through.

  But he did. And now his friends were in danger. Elara was in danger.

  Rohan held back a shudder. His daughter was in danger. If Hectar ever found out that he was a traitor, that he knowingly let that group through… Rohan didn’t even want to think about what he would do.

  “Sir,” a soldier yelled from the main deck below.

  “What?” Rohan’s voice cracked. He hopped that the soldier didn’t hear.

  “The lord’s ship is signalling us to approach.”

  Rohan turned to look at the lord’s ship, the only one bigger than his. The goblet-shaped torch on the stern of the ship was alight. Hectar was signalling for the leaders of the armada to approach.

  “Approach the ship,” Rohan commanded, and the soldier scurried off.

  Moments later, a horn blew from the crow’s nest and the middle of the three sails began to drop.

  As Rohan stood silently at the front of his boat, his ship slicing through the water, he considered his options. He was heading straight for Hectar’s massive wooden vessel—the Jewel. Hectar’s ship was the fastest in Azanthea. Today though, Rohan’s ship had to be faster. That was his plan: to get to shore first. He had to make it to Elara before the others.

  He continued staring at the larger vessel. Two other ships were approaching it, one on either side. He watched as the ships laid down planks, connecting them to the larger vessel. Several members from each of the ships boarded the Jewel, as was protocol. Hectar had summoned all the Tenths and Elevenths to his ship.

  It took nearly ten minutes for the soldiers from all the ships to board the Jewel, which floated a little lower in the water under their weight. Rohan counted as they walked across. If he was right, almost all the Elevenths and Tenths of Sable were present. He gritted his teeth. There was no question, they were out for blood. He dropped his head in despair as the first of the two vessels raised the plank bridging them to the Jewel and sailed off. It was his ship’s turn to disembark.

  “My helmet!” Rohan called, reaching his right hand out to the side, fingers outstretched. He heard a soldier run up behind him and the cool steel grazed his fingertips.

  He clasped the helmet and pulled it over his head, wincing as it caught his long hair.

>   The Jewel was only a dozen feet away now. Rohan turned on his heels and made way for the plank the soldiers were preparing.

  “Ship broadside!” A voice yelled as the sides of the two wooden vessels grazed one another.

  Both ships shook violently at the contact, causing the crew to stumble. But Rohan was steady, unwilling to let anything shake him. He had to stay focused. He could give no indication of his plan or his feelings. His wife and daughter were at stake.

  Rohan walked right up to the base of the plank, everyone moving aside as he did. He was the highest-ranking person aboard the ship. There were a few other Elevenths, but he was the head of security for Sable, a position bestowed upon him by Hectar himself. No one on this boat would question him.

  His eyes rose to the top of the Jewel’s hull; the ship was so high that the plank was more of a ladder. He placed his foot on the first rung and began scaling the old wooden plank. As he mounted, he felt a heaviness in his heart. He thought of Gentry, Robert, Samantha, and Novella. Of all his dear friends on Spearield. Of Elara. And he thought of Libby. The daughter who had been taken away from him ten years ago. The daughter he barely knew, and who barely knew him.

  His hands reached the banister. He sighed as he pulled himself over to join the ranks of soldiers; the battle between good and evil was about to begin, and he did not know what side he would be on.

  He shuffled into the crowd.

  “Tonight, we sail for glory!” Hectar’s voice boomed. He was looking out at his men from the upper deck. Rohan looked around him. Most of his comrades seemed confused, but his heart was sinking deeper and deeper into his stomach.

  “You have been loyal,” Hectar started. He began slowly pacing, staring down each individual in the crowd. “You have fought hard.” Rohan could have sworn that Hectar stared right into his soul. “Long ago, when the God-King needed you, you fought in the East.” Hectar paused. The entire lower deck listened intently, the only noise coming from the waves sloshing into the side of the ship. “And you were victorious.”

  The clang of the soldiers simultaneously pounding their chest armour with one swift motion of their fists echoed across the waters. Rohan forced himself to holler along with the crowd.

  “More recently, when the Battle of Burrath was nearly lost and you were called upon by the God-King, you fought in the North.” Hectar turned to pace across the upper deck in the other direction. “And you were victorious.”

  The same clang echoed even louder across the open sea.

  “Tonight, we will fight to finally rid Azanthea of all resistance. We will finally bring lasting stability to the lands.” Hectar paced back to the centre of the upper deck. “Tonight, we fight for glory, for our country, for our King! We fight to become Gods!”

  Rohan held his breath. This time, the war grunts rang out. He watched as Hectar smiled and placed his hands on the banister of the upper deck, leaning forward over the crowd. The grunts quieted, turning into a low background rumbling. The men and women of the Tenths and Elevenths were itching for a fight.

  “Sail west, my friends. For tonight we fight the Free-Wielders,” Hectar said. He pushed off the banister, raised both of his fists in the air. “And we will be victorious!”

  Cheers roared throughout the crowd. The sound of steel bashing steel echoed through the air.

  “For Sable!” Hectar shouted, pulling the massive blade out of its sheath.

  “For Sable!” The crowd rang out.

  Hectar waved his sword around. “FOR AZANTHEA!”

  The crowd echoed his chant. Rohan pushed through the crowd, eager to get back to his ship. He had a plan. Knowing the island, and knowing Hectar’s strategy would be to surround it, he knew he had only one option: to take the rear position. Hectar would be unable to resist a head on fight, so he would be storming the beach. The sides of Spearield were too shallow for a large ship to get in close, so the army would have to lay anchor and row in from a far distance. But the far, rocky side of Spearield was deep right up to the shore and probably just wide enough for a ship to sneak in. To get on shore, all they would only have to anchor on the deep side of the drop off and lay a long plank to the shallow waters.

  Rohan elbowed his way through the rowdy crowd. Unfortunately, the soldiers on his ship would also get to the island first. But he was familiar with the land; he could get to the village before the other ships would even land. His plan was to get to Elara, so she could save all of them.

  Rohan stormed across the plank back to his ship. It was time for battle.

  Chapter 42

  Azul, 30th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.

  There was no light in the cell. Kari could not see a single thing, but she knew it was moving. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was. It could have been everything or nothing at all. Or perhaps she was moving and everything else was still. She lay flat, sprawled out on the floor—or at least, she thought it was the floor. She couldn’t be certain.

  She let out a visceral scream. She had no sense of time, if time was even real at all, and no sense of hope. She was certain she had been trapped for at least a hundred years. A hundred years away from her Mímrvor. She screamed again.

  “How could they,” she yelled, pounding her fists on the ground. “Bring him back to me!” A sudden lurch in her stomach forced her to sit up. She gagged repeatedly, having nothing in her gut to throw up. She crossed her arms over her stomach and fell to her side. She held her knees tightly to her chest and slowly tapped her head against the ground, humming a soft tune.

  Kari was desperately trying to get Mímrvor’s song just right, but his music was too otherworldly. A human couldn’t make that song. She tapped her head against the ground harder.

  A deep scream pierced through the darkness. Kari stopped her tapping. Was there someone else here?

  She stood as another scream found its way to her ears. Kari laughed. What a funny noise screams were. She screamed back.

  When she finally became tired of screaming, she sat back down, splashing her hands in the shallow puddles that formed on the floor. Kari found it so strange how it rained inside.

  Suddenly, a snake began crawling up her spine, deep under her skin. She clawed at her back as she felt it slither up further, scratching deep into her flesh.

  “Get out!” Kari yelled, reaching both hands over her shoulders and scratching at her upper back. “Out, out, out!”

  She could feel the rain pour down her back. Or maybe it was blood. The snake made its way to her brain and she hopped to her feet. She shook her head violently and tore at her hair. She had to get it out.

  “Kari,” it hissed. The voice sounded familiar. Soft and warm.

  “No, no, no.”

  “Kari, fear not. It is I.” The snake in her mind melted away, and a brilliant glowing orb appeared in front of her. It suddenly burst out into a pair of wings, the wings of a God. The Highwings. She reached out to touch it, but fell forward.

  She pressed her forehead to the ground. “My God-King.”

  “You have been questioning me?”

  “I… no… never…” Kari said, trying to lie. She rolled onto her side as a wave rippled across the floor.

  “Your lies disappoint me. Don’t think the palace does not whisper things to me.”

  Pain shot through her. It was a pain she had never felt before, like millions of hot arrows piercing threw her. She writhed on the floor.

  “Did you know about Vallich?”

  “Mmm… hmm… mmm,” Kari moaned. She was still shaking from the surge of pain.

  Another blast of agony sizzled through her. This time, it was from the inside, as if her blood were boiling. “Please, make it stop.”

  The pain went away.

  “Be thankful, Kari. For today, you will be enlightened.” The God-King’s voice echoed. “As the last of my blood, it would be a shame if you didn’t sit on the throne. But blood is not how we choose our successors here.”

  Kari’s eyes widened and she rocked he
rself back and forth. Blood. She had seen so much blood lately.

  “Sit up!” The God-King commanded.

  Kari’s entire body suddenly felt the urge to lurch up. It was unnatural how strong the pull was. When she didn’t immediately sit up, the pain flooded back.

  “Maybe something a little easier.”

  Kari looked up at the orb floating overtop of her. The white light was blinding, but the rest of the room was still invisible.

  “Lift your arm.”

  Kari felt the pull, but her arm didn’t lift on his command. She immediately put it up. Anything to stop the pain.

  “Good.” The voice sounded satisfied. “Now sit up.”

  Kari felt the pull. It was overwhelming. She even twitched, but she didn’t get up and she was too weak to pull herself up on her own.

  She braced herself for the pain, but even still, she was not ready for it. This time, she felt like her lungs were getting no air. She gasped and gasped, rolling on the floor and clawing at her throat.

  “Pity,” the God-King said. “Remember how you suffer when you do not follow me. Re-evaluate where your allegiances lie. I will be back.”

  Air returned to Kari’s lungs when the Highwings disappeared and the space returned to darkness. Could she have imagined all of that? Perhaps the snake and the orb, maybe even the voice, but the pain and the commands were unquestionably real. They had to be.

  Kari sprawled out flat again, shaking uncontrollably. The God-King, or whomever that voice belonged to, had some wicked kind of power. An ultimate control over people.

  Kari’s eyes widened, and she gasped. Apollyon was a Human-Wielder.

  Chapter 43

  Spearield, 1st Day of the Month of Fire 1114 A.F.F.

  Rohan made it to shore at the back of the island. His ship had taken a long route around the rock shield and settled near the westernmost point of Spearield. His ship was hidden from Hectar’s view, but the entire island was surrounded, and he was certain the boats next to his would notice that they were already ashore. Rohan had told his crew to wait on the rocky shore on which they made landfall and wait for Hectar’s signal before they attacked. He told them he would scout the island; it bought him some time to get ahead, but the soldiers would be on their way soon enough.