“Our people are all in position,” I whispered just as we made it to the ground level, the green fields stretching out before us.
“Good. It’s safe to assume those aren’t the only daemons that Shaytan has brought with him,” Jax replied, nodding at the guards.
“Speaking of which, he’s got three sons with him here. Where would the other two from his Council be?”
“They’re most likely somewhere close and out of sight,” Jax muttered. “I can’t see any through my lens. Did you spot them?”
I shook my head. “They’re probably well-hidden and ready to intervene if things go south.”
“And with plenty of soldiers to back them,” he said. “Either way, we have to stay on course, no matter what. We also have to assume that the other two sons could be trying to get the swamp witch out, for their father’s gain. That means Caspian and the others will have their work cut out for them in the Palisades.”
The crowd gathered around the funeral ground, where thousands of headstones poked out from the dark earth. The clerics positioned the caskets on their platforms, surrounded by large copper bowls filled with what looked like dry wood and oil. They lit them up, and orange flames were soon bursting and licking at the clear sky.
Emilian and Rowan took their positions in front of Amalia and Vincent’s caskets, while the others stayed back. I understood the grief of the parents—even though I detested them both, and their offspring had been just as bad and toxic, I could feel their pain. It was sharp, and it cut through me like a hot knife. I’d buried not one, but six daughters. However, my girls were noble warriors. They never would’ve committed the atrocities Amalia and Vincent had.
It hurt, but there were plenty of creatures in this world who didn’t deserve the gift of life, for they had squandered and soiled it. I blamed the parents here. They’d raised their young to think that the weak deserved to be tortured and killed for no reason. They’d raised Vincent and Amalia to have zero respect for life, so why should they be granted theirs?
“I’m not too worried about Caspian,” I murmured, trying to get my mind off the concept of grief before it closed my throat up. “No one can stand between him and Harper.”
“You’re right about that,” Jax replied. “Caspian’s been a bundle of rage and darkness since Harper was taken. He will destroy everything in his path if that’s what it takes to get her back.”
Emilian cleared his throat, demanding the mumbling crowd’s attention.
“Amalia was a piece of my soul,” he said. I found that to be a little on the nose, given their depravity in eating souls. “The day she was born was the single most important moment in the universe for me. She was so tiny and pale, but her grip on my finger was strong, and… well, she had a pair of lungs on her.” He chuckled softly as he reminisced.
We’re all born innocent.
“Vincent was so soft and chubby,” Rowan chimed in. I understood then that they were doing a joint eulogy. I’d never listened to one like this before, and thus found myself immersed in their stories about Vincent and Amalia. Had we not known the monsters that they really were, I would’ve felt sorrier for Emilian and Rowan. “He was quiet for the first two years of his life. But once he learned to speak, it became impossible to shut him up.”
The crowd murmured softly, amused and charmed by the idea that Vincent and Amalia had been sweet, perfectly normal little Maras. Half of the people in attendance were mind-bent, anyway, and the other half were as savage and as evil as the ones they were about to cremate.
“Today, we lay our children to rest,” Emilian continued, his voice trembling. “Today, we say goodbye to pieces of our souls. Today, we set our very hearts on fire and hope that there’s an afterlife waiting for them, filled with nothing but joy, bliss, and peace. They deserve it.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms beneath my velvet cloak. They were either in denial or just playing a part, though for whom, I wasn’t entirely sure. The jig was up a long time ago. There was no one left for them to impress. It made more sense to assume that Emilian, Rowan, and the rest of their wretched kind genuinely thought they were the actual victims. That they’d done nothing wrong. That their children were epitomes of greatness and perfection.
“Farewell, my beloved Amalia,” Emilian said. “May you join your mother in eternal beauty.”
“Goodbye, my darling Vincent,” Rowan said through a sob. “May your soul be free and roam through the world.”
With their parting words uttered, they both stepped away from the caskets. The clerics came around with torches and set the wooden boxes on fire. The flames swallowed them whole, instantly consuming the flowers and outer layers. The wood crackled as it gave way. Bright orange flames erupted and reached for the sky, their tips extending into swirling threads of black smoke.
The flute-like instruments resumed their mournful songs.
Emilian put his arm around Rowan as they both cried and watched Amalia’s and Vincent’s bodies devoured by fire. Farrah’s shoulders shuddered as she, too, cried for the loss of the Lords’ children. They were literally watching the future of the Exiled Maras going up in flames.
With Sienna and Caspian on our side, all they had were Farrah’s sons, who were too young to rule anything. It dawned on me then, the magnitude of our actions. By killing Vincent and Amalia, we’d crippled the Lords of Azure Heights. What came next was going to obliterate them altogether.
I caught a glimpse of Shaytan, quiet and somber as he watched the funeral ceremony. Yet there was a discreet flicker of amusement in his red eyes—deeply unsettling. That was either his pleasure in watching the Exiled Maras suffer, or a foreshadowing snicker of some kind. Like he had something more in store for them.
It troubled me. But Jax was right. We had to stick to the plan, no matter what.
Jax
We followed the procession back into the city, once again keeping a reasonable distance from our key foes. I noticed Shaytan exchanging muttered words with his sons, and it confirmed what we’d been thinking, even though they used code words.
“I see the sun is out. It’s nice today,” Shaytan muttered to Abeles.
The Mara Lords were leading the crowd, and there were more than twenty feet between them and the daemons, but Shaytan didn’t seem to want to risk being overheard. After all, we were known for our heightened senses.
“It feels warm,” Abeles replied. “The birds are singing, but I’m sure that at the first sign of rain they’ll fly to cover.”
“There’s no stopping the rain, is there, my son?”
“Never, Father. And there is only so much a little bird can do to shield itself from its drops,” Abeles murmured.
To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like small talk, at best. To me, however, it was a troubling conversation. The daemons were forged in the heat of battle. They were a warlike nation, and they’d built their kingdom on top of the bones of their enemies. Concealing their true intentions in front of their so-called allies was a necessity, especially since tensions were so high between them and the Maras.
Shaytan was, in fact, demanding confirmation that their troops were in position. The Maras were the little birds. The raindrops were daemons. Once their exchange was translated, it drew a grim picture for me. There were soldiers nearby, ready to strike as soon as Shaytan gave his signal.
“I didn’t peg you daemons for poets.” Darius scoffed, walking just a couple of feet ahead of Shaytan. He kept looking around for Rewa. “And where the hell is my daughter?”
“Pipe down, Lord Xunn,” Shaytan shot back, his tone flat. “You’ll see your little birdy soon enough, I presume.”
I found Shaytan’s choice of words when describing Rewa to be a testament to his sadism. Referring to her as a little bird while conversing in code with his sons was, however, typical of his complex of superiority. After all, the daemons did consider themselves the supreme species of Neraka. Judging by Darius’s inability to spot the hidden language, I couldn’t help but th
ink the daemons did have an edge on the Maras, where intellect was concerned.
On one hand, yes, the Maras were cunning. They’d fooled us well enough. But the daemons were vicious and led by an extremely intelligent Shaytan. I was convinced that a clash was imminent at this point.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of the Valley of Screams, its dark gorges rising in the distance and riddled with our allied troops. Whatever Shaytan had to bring in against the Maras didn’t include hordes of Manticores, Dhaxanians, Adlets, and rebel Imen coming for their heads.
There was no trace of daemons in the fields, either. Whatever troops Shaytan had brought over were most likely hidden in the city.
“He’s definitely got back up around here,” I whispered to Hansa.
“Do we know how many?”
“No, but there aren’t any in the field below,” I replied. “I’m thinking dozens, at most. It wouldn’t take much to overtake the Maras, if they’re caught off guard.”
“What if the Lords are prepared, though?” she asked.
I shrugged in response. “We’ll have to wait and see. Either way, we’re still doing this.”
“Absolutely. We need to get out of this place.”
On the sixth level, we split from the thinning crowd and made our way through the narrow back alleys behind the cafes and shops. We tossed our cloaks and masks behind a potted tree, then ingested a scoop of invisibility paste each. I could breathe a little easier without the layer of velvet, as I already had my gear on, mask, hood, and goggles included. We vanished and went deeper into the city, keeping out of sight.
There were Correction Officers patrolling the main streets, and one in three was wearing a red garnet lens. We climbed up the walls of the tallest building, then rushed and jumped across the roofs until we reached the far corner of the level, on the eastern side. From there, we had a quick climb on the mountain wall to the seventh level, with thick woods to hide in, if needed.
We made it to the top level almost effortlessly, then stopped to check our surroundings. I caught a glimpse of Hundurr and Rover in the woods to our right. As big as they were, they still managed to keep a low profile. They were, by all possible definitions, highly evolved predators, after all.
We snuck around the outer edge of the Lords’ mansions to the back, then stopped behind House Obara’s stables. Correction Officers moved around the buildings, never staying in one spot for longer than five minutes. They were on high alert.
“Let’s go,” I whispered, then ran to the back entrance of the Obara mansion, closely followed by Hansa. We had only a minute’s worth of free movement before other Correction Officers came around.
We slipped through the door and took refuge beneath the service staircase. Imen servants buzzed around, visibly alarmed. No one was comfortable with daemons in the house, it seemed. I could hear Shaytan talking just outside in the front courtyard. They were about to come in.
Hansa and I snuck through the hallway and took separate positions in the living room. She settled behind a large, dark red velvet curtain, while I found a good spot in the corner, behind an armchair.
My heart was thumping. I hadn’t engaged with an enemy like this in a while. With Azazel, things had been relatively straightforward. He knew we were there, and we knew what he was capable of. With the daemons and Exiled Maras, however, we didn’t have all the information—specifically, we didn’t know how much swamp witch magic they’d managed to get out of Lumi.
The main door swung open as Emilian, Rowan, and Farrah came in, followed by Darius, Shaytan, and his three sons—Abeles, Garros and Mammon—then five of his guards. The other five were ordered to stay outside.
Correction Officers came into the living room first, assuming positions against each of the four walls. My stomach tightened itself into a painful marble at the sight of just five feet between Hansa’s hiding place and one of the COs. The closest ones to me were ten feet away, on both sides. Nevertheless, we were here. No turning back now.
Besides, Hansa would’ve slapped me silly for worrying about her like this. Tribe chief warrior queen and whatnot.
Emilian, Rowan, and Farrah each took a seat on one of the sofas. Shaytan occupied the other in front of them, while Darius sat in a chair nearby. The princes stood back, their red eyes narrowed and constantly scanning their surroundings. The daemon guards were a tad oversized for the space, despite its tall ceiling and ample room.
There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Shaytan spoke.
“You Maras can still have more children, you know,” he offered, like the tone-deaf sociopath that he was, despite his high degree of intelligence.
Emilian scoffed and shook his head with contempt. “My Amalia is irreplaceable. Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted, then nodded at Darius. “Why is Lord Xunn in cuffs?”
Shaytan looked at Darius for a brief moment, then chuckled. “Contingency, my friend. One can never be too careful, especially in this day and age.”
“That’s insulting, considering we’re allies,” Rowan hissed, crossing her arms.
“There’s something about these cuffs,” Darius replied with a frown. From my position, I could see the etched symbols glowing amber. “They’re doing something to me… Where’s Rewa?”
Emilian glanced around, snapping his finger at a Correction Officer. “You. Go find Rewa,” he said, then shifted his focus back to Darius. “What do you mean, they’re doing something to you?”
Shaytan chuckled softly. “As you remember, Darius came to Infernis while you skilled thespians were staging your play for the outsiders. You were supposed to catch them. Instead, you let them loose and put my kingdom at risk,” he replied.
“What does that have to do with Lord Xunn’s cuffs?” Emilian retorted.
“I’m getting there!” Shaytan shot back. “Now. After their attack on my palace, I had to take a better look at you, at Azure Heights, and at how this simple project turned into such a nightmare. Frankly, I had my doubts about you, Lord Obara. So, like the good king that I am, I figured I might as well ask Darius here, since he was in town. But then,” he added, laughing, “I found him trying to sneak out without so much as a goodbye. Obviously, I took offense. Then I took precautions,” he said, pointing at the cuffs. “And oh, did the birdy sing!”
Darius sighed. “It’s worse than mind-bending,” he muttered. “I’m extremely dumbed down. I don’t even remember what I told him. I can’t recall what I said five minutes ago, either.”
“This is preposterous,” Emilian barked, banging his fist onto the coffee table in front of him. The glass top cracked. One more blow, and it would shatter.
“It’s called critical thinking,” Shaytan replied dryly. “You see, Lord Xunn, in his current state, is a bumbling imbecile with a loose tongue, while I am a wiser daemon for keeping him around.”
“You must release him,” Farrah demanded. “This is not part of any agreement, and certainly not in line with our alliance!”
Shaytan gave her a contemptuous smirk. “You should’ve thought of that when you bloodsucking fiends decided to band together and try to usurp me.”
The Lords froze. Shaytan laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Emilian asked slowly.
Suddenly, Shaytan’s humor went right out the window. Almost instinctively, my whole body bucked, tension gathering between my shoulder blades. There was a storm coming, and it was going to rattle the entire living room.
“You’ve been conspiring to knock me off the food chain for quite some time now,” Shaytan replied. “I know all about your plans to cut off my access to the swamp witch. To sabotage my cities. To assassinate me. Who did you have in mind for the job, though? I doubt either of you could pull it off. You’d need someone capable of getting close enough to deliver a blow.”
The Lords were silent. This was probably one of those precious nuggets of information only circulated between the Houses, and the only Lord we had to tell us about it couldn’t,
given his blood oath.
“I told you, these cuffs make me say things,” Darius mumbled, visibly ashamed.
“But I appreciated your honesty, Lord Xunn. It’s why you’re still breathing,” Shaytan said, a grin slitting his face. He then scowled at Emilian, Rowan, and Farrah. “So, who did you want to do the dirty job, huh? Lord Kifo? I’d bet my money on him. Despite his idealistic faults, he is a worthy opponent. I must give credit where it’s due.”
Emilian shook his head, then exhaled sharply. “I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot here.”
“I think you twisted your ankle altogether when you started believing you were in any way superior to the daemons,” Shaytan replied. “Do not underestimate me, Lord Obara. Remember, you’ve got a mountain. I’ve got tens of thousands of grunts, ready to obliterate you. I’ve been courteous for the past millennia, simply to express my gratitude for your swamp witch’s tricks. But you are all bugs to me. My right foot alone is big enough to squish you all.”
A minute went by in deafening silence as they all assessed one another. From my experience, the Lords were either looking for weak spots to attack or excuses to avoid a bloodbath. If they had any sense left in them, they were bound to go for the latter.
“Perhaps it’s time for us to address our alliance and strengthen our friendship,” Farrah proposed, motioning for one of the Correction Officers. “Bring our guests down, please.”
Emilian gave her a deadly scowl. “What are you doing?” he muttered.
“Possibly saving our lives,” Farrah shot back, smiling at Shaytan.
Two Correction Officers left the room. I heard their boots rumbling up the stairs.
“I’m not thrilled about the current state of this alliance,” Shaytan said, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. His sons didn’t look too happy either.
“Your Grace, let us talk about this,” Farrah replied calmly, while Emilian and Rowan stared at her in disbelief. It didn’t take Harper’s sentry abilities to tell that they were feeling betrayed, that this conversation wasn’t going where they’d originally planned. But Farrah seemed smarter, invulnerable to emotions. After all, Houses Roho and Obara had suffered a devastating loss. Their judgment was clouded.
A Battle of Souls Page 6