by Pedro Urvi
I see you are not like the others. That pleases me.
Kyra saw that his mouth still had not moved, but something had changed in the expression on the golden face. It was the eyes. They had shone with something she did not like at all: the gleam of satisfaction.
No, no, no! she said to herself. Her fear had now turned into pure fury.
Kneel before your God and master.
Kyra could keep back her anger no longer, and exploded like a volcano. She made as if to kneel, but instead of bending her knee she leapt forward towards the God. The Eye and the Executors had no time to react. Kyra drove herself forward with all the strength of her legs and reached the God in the blink of an eye. She clenched her fist to hit that being, who was watching her without any expression on his golden face.
She reached the God and drew her arm back to hit, blinded by fury. At the same instant the God’s lips moved. A sound reached Kyra’s ears, something like a lugubrious chant. A flash of intense light, almost transparent, hit her eyes, and she now witnessed the scene as if time had stood still and everything was happening in slow motion. Kyra’s fist moved towards the golden face, then her eyes saw the source of the light. It was a crystalline disc the God was holding in his left hand.
What the hell is that? she thought.
But it was too late. An arcane mist surrounded the body of the God, forming a translucent sphere. As it did so, time began to run normally again and things speeded up. Kyra’s fist advanced towards her target, but instead it hit the sphere. Pain exploded in her mind and a heartbeat later, carried on by her own momentum, her whole body crashed against the protective sphere. The blow was brutal, and she bounced backwards. She lay there on the floor, writhing with pain.
What was that? What happened? I had him, what he just did is impossible! Her body, and her hand in particular, hurt so much she could hardly think. He’s used… some Power… Hell!
The Executors surrounded her immediately and their spears reached for her neck. But for some reason they stopped a finger’s-breadth from her throat. They did not kill her. On the floor, lying on her back with the spears at her throat, Kyra watched the Executors, who seemed to be stoically awaiting their order. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, and the cold floor bit into her naked body.
My intuition was correct, you are very different from the others.
“Get out of my head, you pig!”
Nobody has ever tried anything like that before. Certainly surprising. You have guts, slave.
“Stop calling me slave! My name is Kyra and I swear you’ll remember this.”
Kyra… I will remember... be sure of that.
Suddenly the spears moved back and she was in the midst of the Executors.
“Prepare her,” the Eye ordered.
Iron hands seized her, digging into her flesh like the claws of a bird of prey, and lifted her off the floor brusquely.
“Let me go, you filthy brutes!” Kyra shouted. “I’ll kill you all! I swear I’ll kill you all!”
Two Executors carried her away, while she resisted violently. She felt the pain of the struggle, she was hurting herself in the futile attempt to resist, but she did not care. She would not let the being touch her. Never! She would sooner die first!
They took her to an adjoining chamber. A door opened, and Kyra found herself in a curious triangular room. The walls were an intense red and the floor black as night. In the middle was a silver sphere with runes engraved all over its surface. Beside the sphere two Eyes wearing red sashes over their tunics waited with open books in their hands. The scene gave Kyra the creeps, a chill ran down her spine.
What the hell is this? Kyra was even more confused. “What are you going to do to me?” she yelled.
But nobody answered. They put her in the sphere and closed the transparent hatch. For a moment nobody moved. Kyra became even more nervous. What were they waiting for? Then she saw it. The Golden God was slowly approaching the sphere from the entrance of the chamber. He seemed to be gliding above the floor. Kyra’s flesh prickled as she saw him approach. This being gave out an essence of great mystical power. She could feel it in every pore, that arcane power and the danger which came with it. For a moment she thought he could kill her just by wishing it. Perhaps that would be the case. For the first time in her life her fighting heart failed her: she found herself shrinking before the omnipotent presence of the God.
No, no, no, I’ll fight to my last breath, she thought, gathering courage from the depths of her soul.
Do not resist, it will be less painful. The mental blow surprised her, as she was inside the sphere and was not expecting it. She realized the God was so powerful he could probably transmit his thoughts over distance and through objects. This intimidated her even more, but she clenched her fists and prepared to go on fighting.
Survive and escape, she reminded herself. Ikai, where are you, my brother? I need you. Then she thought how far away, lost and hopeless she was, how powerful the enemies around her were, and she thought better of it. Don’t come, brother, only death awaits you here. Don’t come for me.
A substance began to envelop her inside the sphere. It was bluish, like ocean-tinted smoke. It enveloped her completely and for a moment she thought she would no longer be able to breathe, that she would drown.
“What are you going to do to me?” she yelled at the Golden God.
But he did not answer, only watched her with that air of superiority, of divine power. The substance filled the sphere, although she could still breathe. She began to feel strange, sleepy, relaxed, even though she knew she was in danger. The sphere gave off a series of golden flashes which filled the chamber. At that moment she heard a metallic sound and felt a sharp sting on the soles of her feet.
“Bastards!” she swore. But she was so tired and the substance was so welcoming and pleasant that she gave in to it. She lost awareness of where she was and what was going on. The sphere radiated again: silver rays this time.
Kyra, the slave. Be sure I shall remember your daring.
There was loathing in the glare Kyra turned on him.
The God smiled.
My name is Adamis, he said, drawing out the word. Remember later, for I am your God, and your life and that of all your companions is in my hands.
And Kyra fainted.
15
Ikai crouched in the midst of the reeds, hiding in the shadows of the night, accompanied by the discordant croaking of frogs. The moon reigned overhead, high and beautiful, escorted by thousands of tiny brilliant stars, like a Goddess watching protectively over her sleeping people after a long day of toil.
A few paces behind him he could hear the singing murmur of the river. The sound of the stream always calmed him, he felt lulled to sleep by its intangible watery arms. It was no surprise; after all, he was one of the Senoca, the People of the Sea, or who had once been. Now all they had was the memory and the river. He touched his right leg and ran his hand over the blue tattoo there: a radiant sun above a calm sea. It was discreet in comparison to the more elaborate, extensive kind that some wore. But he liked it, and in any case he had never been one to call attention to himself.
Suddenly the frogs fell silent. Someone was coming. Slowly, muffling all sound, he drew his sword and dagger and readied himself. He listened hard and heard furtive footsteps on the damp surface to his right. He was sure they could not see him, since the reeds surrounded him in all directions, hiding his presence except towards the river. He turned slowly with the dagger in his right hand, ready to launch. The steps were louder now. The reeds parted. A soldier appeared in front of him, sword in hand. Ikai’s arm was ready to carry out the act, but his brain did not give the order.
“Wait!” he heard suddenly. The soldier stopped three paces away with his hand raised. Large turquoise eyes, wide open in horror, were staring at him from under the helmet.
Ikai recognized those eyes, and the voice. It was not a soldier, it was an officer: Liriana. Slowly he lowered his arm and n
odded at her. The Captain gave a long, deep sigh. She came closer to him.
“You almost got me there!” she protested in a whisper.
Ikai watched the eyes come closer. They shone intensely. They were large and attractive. “You make a lot of noise,” Ikai scolded her.
“I’m an officer, not a bloody Hunter. Subtlety isn’t my strong point.”
Ikai nodded. “What’s the plan?”
“The whole city is in a state of alert. The Regent wants our heads at any price. High Priest Torkem is haranguing the masses to encourage them to give us up. The Guard is searching for us house by house and the Executors are going over the outskirts and the nearby villages. We haven’t many options. We’re in a tight fix.”
“You said you could get help… that you had friends…”
Liriana nodded. “It’s not all lost. We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“If we don’t move they’ll find us, believe me, you can bet on that,” said Ikai. He could see the lights of the capital behind the trees to the south.
“I’ve managed to arrange a meeting, and it wasn’t easy, they almost arrested me. Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t ask so many questions. Just follow me.”
Liriana moved along the river towards the north among the reeds. The girl was certainly not used to stealth. What with her officer’s armor and her heavy tread Ikai had the feeling they would be detected a league away at least. Some clouds crossed the moon and the shadows closed in around them. He sighed in relief. They might be heard, but at least they would not be seen. They went on for more than an hour, with the water now reaching their knees.
“We’re there,” Liriana whispered.
Ikai looked up and saw a typical Senoca building: a flattened stone pyramid. One of its faces gave on to a small wooden pier. The building was painted black, and on the wall he could make out the representation of the sea, and death. The Last Gate, he thought in dismay, how appropriate… This was the ritual building where they celebrated the ceremony of the journey of no return to the ocean beyond. It was an ancient tradition of his people. A tradition kept up from a better time, when they were free… The dead man was placed in a simple boat, together with some of his belongings for the journey, and his family said their goodbyes in an intimate ceremony. From the mother sea we come, and to her immensity we return. For an instant the idea even appealed to him. To lie down in that simple vessel, relaxed, and let the current of the great river take him away, never to return. All his problems would end. But Kyra’s face appeared in his mind. I can’t give up and abandon her. I have to go on, no matter how difficult the situation might be.
He shook off this feeling of defeat and walked on to the building. It was not a good omen to be there, it was a funereal place, but it was certainly a good one to hide in, at least from the Guards. The Executors were another matter altogether. The door was always open, and they went in. Liriana guided him in the dark without any light. She seemed to know the place well. Ikai could barely make out anything in the blackness inside. He heard a creaking: wood being moved.
“Down below,” Liriana said, and disappeared.
Ikai moved forward and saw the trapdoor Liriana had gone down. He followed her and closed it over his head. They went down a flight of stone stairs, and he glimpsed a light ahead at the end of a corridor.
“Here we are,” Liriana announced.
The Captain opened a door at the end and light fell on them with dazzling brilliance. Ikai covered his eyes and put his hand to the pommel of his sword.
Liriana went into the room. “Come on in, she assured him. “There’s no danger.”
He waited a moment to let his eyes get used to the light, then took a quick glance inside. He saw a man sitting at a table in the center, with two men flanking him and two more at the far end of the room. They all wore simple robes and looked like peasants, but for some reason they wore hoods and their faces were hidden. He did not like this. Farmers were not in the habit of hiding their faces under hoods, least of all inside a place of worship, and he had the feeling that these men were something more than weathered sons of the soil. Slowly, he reached behind him for his throwing dagger.
Liriana made a sign to him from inside. “Come on, Ikai. They’re friends, I swear it.”
But he did not trust her. He was grateful to Liriana for saving his life, but he was not going to set foot in a room in a cellar full of hooded strangers. They might belong to the Guard… Was he walking headlong into a trap? His eyes went to Liriana. He wanted to trust her, but nobody could assure him that she had not been captured and had offered to turn him in to the Guard in exchange for her own life. The men might be trying to hide the fact, but he noticed they were armed: something forbidden, punishable with death. No, he did not like this situation one little bit. He calculated the distance to the way out in case he needed to run.
“Analyzing your choices, young Hunter?” came a voice from inside.
Ikai identified the origin of the voice. It was the man sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He could not see his face, but the voice was strangely familiar.
“Let’s give him a moment. Our young friend tends to calculate his movements very carefully.”
The words disconcerted him. Who was this character? Ikai raised his right arm. “Do you know me by any chance?”
“Ikai, no!” Liriana cried. The men inside all unsheathed knives and short copper swords.
“Lower your arm, Ikai,” the stranger said from his seat at the table. “I know you won’t throw that dagger until you’ve assessed all your options.”
Liriana motioned him to lower his weapon. “Calm down, Ikai…”
“Who are you? And I won’t ask again…” Ikai threatened in a voice that left no doubt.
“An old friend,” the man said. With slow movements he pushed his hood back, revealing a bruised old face, like parchment, beneath snow-white hair which fell to merge with his beard, also white as snow.
Ikai lowered his weapons at once. “Gedrel!” he said in utter surprise.
“It would have been funny if after saving this old man’s life from those outlaws, you were to kill him now,” Gedrel said with a laugh.
Ikai smiled and went into the hall. Gedrel’s face still looked badly bruised from the beating he had received when Ikai rescued him. The wounds made him appear more fragile than he already was. If when he met the old man Ikai had thought he must be around eighty, at that moment under the light of the oil lamp he looked more like a hundred, although he knew it was impossible. Nobody had lived that long for generations. One of the men left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Don’t worry, my nephew is going to check whether you’ve been followed.”
“Your nephew… like the ones who were with you when we met. And I suppose these men here are your kinsfolk too? You must have a really big family.”
Gedrel nodded and gave him a broad smile. “Nothing escapes that analytic mind of yours, does it? Let’s say I have a big extended family, yes.” He pointed at the people gathered together in the room and motioned him to a bench on the other side of the table, opposite him. “Sit down, drink a little wine with this crazy old man.”
“As you please,” Ikai said. He was trying to guess what was going on. He certainly knew that Gedrel was no crazy old man: on the contrary. He sat in front of him and they were served two cups from a wine-skin.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some food…? I’m famished, and” —he glanced at the Captain— “I’m sure Liriana is too.”
“We’ve had no time to prepare. Liriana’s warning caught us by surprise. But we did bring a few supplies.” He turned and waved at one of the hooded men at the far end of the room. The man, tall and robust, brought a satchel to the table, where he laid out part of its contents. Ikai hastened to attack the dried meat and cheese he was offered, leaving table manners aside, while his stomach rumbled in gratitude.
Liriana
took a seat on a chest to one side. She took off her helmet and put it on the floor between her legs. Until then Ikai had not been able to see her face, only her big turquoise eyes under the helmet. He studied her: she was young, his age or a year older perhaps, tall and strong, with a lithe, sinewy body. She put a piece of cheese in her mouth, and Ikai saw that her features were delicate, her nose fine and her mouth small. But what caught his attention was that she wore her fair hair cut really short. That was usual among the men of the Guard, less so among the women. The haircut was not flattering, but the delicacy of the face and her large eyes made her interesting, even attractive. Ikai could not put his finger on it, but there was something very appealing about her.
Liriana looked at him askance and caught him staring at her. Ikai went red and looked away, but she did not seem to notice and went on eating. Ikai turned back to the food and was particularly grateful for the wine. It had been a long time since he had had the privilege. A family of farmers like his own could not afford it.
“Eat in peace, young Hunter, and get your strength back,” Gedrel said. “You look awful, even worse than I do myself, and that’s not easy.” He smiled. “I’ve been told you had some trouble with our dear Regent Sesmok… how unfortunate…”
Ikai raised one eyebrow and tried to work out whether the old man was being sarcastic.
“As soon as you’ve finished eating, we’ll take care of those wounds,” Gedrel said. He glanced at Liriana. “I see some badly-bandaged cuts, and you have blood running down your arm, Ikai. Misos is an apothecary, he’ll take care of it.” He indicated one of the men, who had a leather bag at his feet.
“I appreciate it.”
“I guess your delicate situation has something to do with your sister…”
When he heard the subtlety in the old man’s tone and saw the flash of cunning in his eyes, Ikai understood that Liriana’s intervention, his rescue and flight, had not been a coincidence.
Ikai recalled their conversation in the forest clearing, “Gedrel, Merchant for the Gods,” he said, and pointed at the golden Ring on his left wrist. “For men… something very different,” he added, using the old man’s words.