Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles

by Butler, J. M.

Irasso brought a coil of ropes over and set it on the floor near them.

  "So what is the next part of this plan, Irasso?" Shon asked. "How are we going to rescue Amelia and free the Ayamin?"

  Irasso looped the rope over his narrow chest. "We're catching guaras."

  "Catch the—" Matthu choked on his bread. "Why are we trying to catch man-eating salamanders?"

  "Did you see how many were in there? Catching the guaras is going to take hours," Shon said. "Do you have any idea what Naatos could be doing with that kind of time?"

  "Yes. It will take us at least six hours, perhaps longer. But these guaras are our only path to success."

  "Do the Machat truly know everything then?" Shon folded his arms. He did not want to seem ungrateful for their rescue, but he found this new plan exceptionally bizarre. "The Machat sometimes receive visions. Sometimes knowledge. Other times, they simply know the odds and how to play them. How do I know that this plan isn't just a possibly safer course rather than the only way to do this successfully?"

  "We know enough." Irasso set his arms akimbo, his expression somber. The light in his eyes no longer danced. "Amelia will survive, Shon. We will not leave without her or the Ayamin, but this must be handled with care."

  Shon rubbed his hand along his chin. "I'm going up to get her now," he said. "I'll make another disguise. Find a way—"

  Irasso's eyes narrowed in disapproval. "The doors are guarded, Awdawm. And if Amelia goes missing, the Paras will tear this place apart searching for her, and all of this will be for naught. Many will die.” He shook his head. "We are not letting anyone in or out unless they have been granted permission."

  Shon's breaths clenched, and shame prickled through him. It was obvious, and he should have known that the Machat would not let them risk messing up their plan. But it didn't feel like it mattered. The Machat's logic should have been enough, but it wasn't. "Can you promise me she won't be hurt? That Naatos isn't going to—"

  Chialao shook her head as she passed by. Irasso sighed. "She will survive. We cannot protect her from all harm. The decisions of the individual impact that individual's life as well as others. You cannot be responsible for all that the others do. You are responsible here for what you do now."

  "Doesn't that mean we're responsible for not trying to rescue her?" Matthu glanced at Shon as if looking for his approval.

  "You will be responsible if your actions cause this rescue to fail," Irasso said.

  Shon stepped forward. Anger flared within him. "I am an Ayamin. My duty is to protect her. I will not risk her or the other Ayamin. You have not even heard my plan."

  "I do not need to hear it. Whatever happens to Amelia is what happens to her. But this plan that we have chosen is the best one. There is no room for you to make a romantic stand." The fierceness in Irasso's gaze intensified, far stronger than Shon would have expected from someone so frail. "If you somehow break through us and do this your way, one of two things will happen. One, you will succeed but delay us so that those whose minds have been harmed will die before they can be helped." He gave Shon a meaningful look at this point. "Two, we will all fail and die, leaving the Third Nalenth with no allies."

  Shon crushed the bread in his hand. There had to be a third alternative. What little reason he had seemed to be fleeing. Matthu would be able to make it. The Ayamin could be freed.

  "She will live, Shon." Irasso placed his hand on Shon's shoulder. His gaze softened. "That is what matters most. If you want to help her, then help us."

  Heat crept along Shon's neck and through his veins, strangling him. There was no way he and Matthu could slip around through all of the Machat to help Amelia, and turning against Irasso would do more harm than good, especially for the Ayamin. He nodded slowly. "Swear to me that she will be all right."

  Unblinking, Irasso said, "I swear that she will survive."

  39

  Conflict Within

  Amelia stared at the wall. The medication Naatos had given her was seeping away. Her leg, foot, and ribs ached most of all, raw and hot. But even this wasn't the full extent of it. Over the next few hours, it would worsen significantly.

  She closed her eyes. She was trapped.

  The despair and fear that rippled through her was worse; knowing what was to come only increased that.

  Amelia lay motionless on the bed, her back and neck supported by the thick pillows. Her palms sweat beneath the bandages, her throat was dry.

  The good thing was that no one else had seen what had happened. Otherwise…guilt increased within her as she imagined their disappointment. Uncle Joe. Shon. Matthu. Alita. Theol. She kept her eyes tightly shut. Tears leaked out though she tried to keep them in. The worlds were doomed because of her weakness.

  The one remaining orb offered the only hope she had absent a miracle, but Naatos was right. She'd find a way to replicate it instead of using it to heal herself. Analyze what it was made of. Someone had to be able to duplicate it.

  Yes…Amelia released a pained breath. It would all work out if she could just get out of this place. But how was she going to do that?

  There was one option though…

  Amelia tightened her fists, wincing. No. She wasn't even going to consider accepting Naatos's offer. Not even to double cross him. Accepting that she was married to him came with enormous problems. Where had that knowledge been in her preparation?

  A knock sounded at the door. It was WroOth. "Good to see you're awake, little sister." He closed the door and scanned the walls. As he walked in, he slid back one of the tapestries and peered behind it.

  "What are you looking for?" Amelia asked.

  "Just making sure there are no threats waiting to skin you alive or eat out your heart." WroOth lifted another tapestry. Finding nothing, he picked up one of the wooden chairs and set it beside the bed. Pausing, he studied her, then pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Looks like you have a low fever. Typical enough given your situation. You realize that by refusing to lock with Naatos, the only person you're hurting is yourself." He leaned his arms on the top of the chair. "It's not as if it's going to make much difference to Naatos ultimately. And you certainly can't run off on that leg. You should make the most of your position here. Do you even know how to flirt?"

  "Yes, flirting. I studied it extensively in between knifework, anatomy, and survival. It made perfect sense that I would need to know how to flirt so that I could eliminate three shapeshifting warlords and restore an interdimensional portal. I mean, that's basic commonsense, isn't it? After all—ahh!" Amelia clenched her eyes shut. She tried to put her hand on her side, but that only increased the pain.

  WroOth raised an eyebrow. "So, you don't have a problem with flirting?"

  Amelia glared at him as the wave of pain lessened. "Why are you even talking to me about this? I'm not interested in any sort of relationship with your brother except one that eliminates him as a threat."

  "He could stop being a threat to you if you accepted that you're his wife. It works out, nicely, don't you think?"

  "Not really."

  "Well…" WroOth smiled. "Let me go back to your earlier question. The reason I'm talking to you about this is because I suspect you'll be a better student than Naatos, and unlike him, I don't have to chase you anymore. For all his strengths, his idea of wooing and flirting would be to eliminate both entirely and go straight for the consummation."

  Amelia lifted her gaze to the ceiling. Sweat prickled along her skin. "I don't think that my flirting with him would change his mind. In fact, I think it would probably send the wrong message."

  "He would hopefully take it as an indication that you are receptive to his advances, which would cause him to realize I'm right and that he needs to listen."

  "Or it might make him think I'm actually interested," Amelia snapped. She put her hand to her forehead.

  "You know, your primary resistance to Naatos is because you disagree with him on his plans. I mean, you are technically a princess, which means you shou
ld be well aware of arranged marriages. It's what royals do. I presume that if this marriage would allow you to achieve peace, you'd be fine with it."

  Amelia nodded tightly. "But me marrying Naatos would not do anything to create peace, and it would make him stronger."

  "It might. And you have not even heard our plans."

  "I know enough. You're going to take over this world. Your military forces are conquering capitals and key strategic points. You'll install your forces and maintain a hold. But you want more than that. And in watching what you have done here, I think this army is disposable. You want to bring in your Vawtrian army. I'm sure you've got one some place. And you are going to move on from world to world, setting up your own rule and enslaving everyone. You're taking on Elonumato, and what you really want is to be gods."

  WroOth laughed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I have no desire to be a god, dear heart. And not even Naatos with all his aspirations for glory, grandeur, and power would wish for that. There is far too much baggage and added expectations. But supreme rulers of creation. Well, that's more what we aspire to. That is a position in which we can do more harm than good."

  "Good!" Amelia exclaimed. She doubled forward. It would have been better if she could calm down and ignore him, but the words were spilling out of her like infection from a lanced boil. "What do you mean 'good?' Look at what you've done already."

  "This is the early phase. The early phases are the messiest. You don't judge a cake until it's completed."

  Amelia thought about continuing the metaphor, but anger and pain destroyed it. In some small way it was a victory. She was fighting again. "No. People are dying horribly because of you. Innocent people were executed. People who have lives! Hopes! Dreams! And more people will lose their freedom, their families, their hopes, their homes because of you three."

  "They will be ruled by someone. We will make things better for them. More or less. It's not as if anyone's lives are really that incredible. Look at you. All the freedom you could ask for on Eiram, and what did you do with it? You obsessed over a cause and a mission in which you will only fail. Were you happy doing that, Amelia?"

  "My happiness is irrelevant. I live because I am the Third Nalenth." Amelia tried to sit up but fell back. Her head was swimming again.

  "I'll take that as a no then. And that's the point. No one is happy now. They won't be any worse off if they cooperate once we take over, and we'll do some good when the cake is finished. When all is said and done, they may be quite happy."

  "Happiness is irrelevant to what is right," Amelia said again.

  WroOth waved his hand dismissively, his smile becoming more crooked. "That is marvelously inspirational. So if I follow you, you're saying that even if we could make everyone happy but deny them their freedom, you would oppose that."

  "Yes."

  "Well, we're free to take over everyone else. So…"

  "WroOth." Amelia closed her eyes and drew in a pained breath. Were they really having this conversation? "You can't use your—"

  "You're actually arguing for total freedom after five men nearly beat you to death and intended to violate you."

  "I'm not arguing for anarchy. Of course we have to have government. We have to have laws. We have to have order. But just because we have to have government and laws doesn't mean that you and your brothers can come in with an army and overthrow everything." Amelia drew in a deeper breath and steadied herself as the wave of pain rested.

  WroOth grinned. "You are absolutely adorable when you try to be fierce, Amelia. But you are not winning this argument, and this is why I cannot take Elonumato seriously. Besides, we both know you can’t kill me."

  "I shot you." Amelia gritted the words out.

  "Yes. I seem to recall you promising me you wouldn't hurt me when we were in the garden though."

  "Things changed."

  "Perhaps. But you also tried to help me when that crudon landed on me."

  Amelia lifted her chin. "I used you to draw your brothers' attention away from the Ayamin. It was nothing personal. I wasn’t trying to help you."

  "Oh, I love those Neyeb eyes." WroOth chuckled. "They always tell the full story. And that heart of yours, if you carry on with your original plan, is going to be your undoing."

  Amelia's head spun even worse. It was getting harder to think. "No. It's yours."

  "That doesn't even make sense," WroOth said.

  The door swung open. AaQar entered, carrying a stack of papers.

  WroOth rocked back in the chair, holding onto the bedpost as he kept two of the chair legs on the ground. "Finished with the Trolnan? Where's Naatos?"

  "He's taking another round." AaQar set the papers on the table. "He'll come here when he's finished."

  "The Trolnan?" Amelia echoed faintly. The Tue-Rah translated all languages. If what she had been told was correct, passing through the Tue-Rah created an excellent proficiency. But words that had no direct translation did not always come with a clear understanding though they might sound like other familiar words. Sometimes she could guess what a word meant, but not right now.

  WroOth shushed her as AaQar began mixing something in a large mortar and pestle. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, dear heart. Now back to your dilemma, it isn't much of a dilemma at all. You see, if we do things your way and restore the Tue-Rah, then you open the floodgates. Do you know how long these worlds have gone without knowing about each other? If you think that what has happened is bad, then you cannot even begin to imagine what would be unleashed."

  "Elonumato has a plan for that too." That was a good point. Amelia couldn't imagine what that plan was though, but she couldn't let her faith go.

  "WroOth, stop pestering her." AaQar stooped beside her and placed a wooden goblet against her lips. "Drink this."

  Amelia hesitated. "What is it?"

  "Just drink it. It's for the bleeding and the fever and some of the pain."

  Amelia glanced up at him. Was it possible that this was a trap? Or perhaps Naatos was going to be harsh and his brothers would soften her up. Good cop, bad cop probably wasn't exclusive to Earth. "I thought Naatos said—"

  The corners of AaQar's mouth pulled up. "You won't do any of us much good if you're dead. Besides, if you are to feel safe with us, it is probably best if we do not hold simple treatments hostage."

  WroOth lifted his hands. "See! We aren't so bad. You may as well place your trust in us. Relying on Awdawms and Machat is quite a bad idea. It's like leaning on a splintered staff. You trust them at your own peril."

  "The Machat are—"

  "Amelia, in all seriousness, have I ever lied to you?" WroOth asked.

  "Yes!"

  WroOth became somber. "Well, I'm not now." He leaned closer, placing his hand over her arm. "You must not trust the Machat, Amelia. They would love nothing more than to get their claws into you. Fill your thoughts with vicious lies and twisted tales. You think my brothers and I are cruel, but the Machat are the ones who cost me that which I held most dear. Now then, you need to stay awake." He crossed the room to the bookshelf and retrieved something. "And I think we have had enough conversation for now."

  Amelia sipped the green liquid from the wooden goblet, grateful for whatever relief it might bring. Her chest was significantly tighter, the pain burning and spreading.

  "WroOth." AaQar drew his chair up to the table. "Let her rest. This has been a trying day for all of us."

  "I am. I'm going to read to her." WroOth held up a leather book. "There is one good thing I can say for the Awdawms. They are the most superb storytellers. That is one reason I would never kill them all. A good storyteller is worth his weight in tra." He cleared his throat and began reading. "'This of course is the way to talk to dragons if you don't want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise).'"

  Amelia swallowed the last of the tart and bitter medicine. This sounded familiar, but there were no markin
gs on the leather book’s cover.

  "'No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo's)—'"

  "That's The Hobbit!" Amelia sat up abruptly. Another spiraling stab of pain cut through her. She reached for her leg and then fell back, groaning.

  "Yes." WroOth arched his eyebrow, giving her a sly grin. "It is."

  Amelia released a pained breath. "Where did you get it? It isn't…"

  "From you. You stocked that lovely, what did you call it, a tablet?" WroOth turned the leather book around to reveal that it held her tablet. "Primitive name for a slightly less primitive device, but filled with excellent Awdawm stories. I've enjoyed what I've read a great deal, and I will enjoy reading the rest."

  Amelia wasn't sure how she felt about him reading all of the books she had saved on there. Somehow that felt almost as intrusive as his reading her journal.

  WroOth tapped on the screen. "Now no more interruptions."

  "Why are you starting in the middle?" Amelia asked. Could this day become any more surreal?

  "We don't have time to read it all, so I'm starting it at the most interesting point. This Smaug doesn't get nearly enough time or say."

  "You never think the dragon gets enough time." AaQar set aside the stack of papers. "That dragon talked more than enough. And if he were a real dragon, he probably would have talked far less."

  "This book should have been about him," WroOth said. "Not the hobbit. He didn't even want an adventure."

  "Yes, I'm sure the dragon's days were quite fascinating sleeping on gold and dreaming of bygone days. You must face it, WroOth. Not everyone likes dragons as much as you," AaQar said. "Besides, it's a work of fiction. Had that been a real dragon, it would have eaten Bilbo as soon as it smelled him. Real dragons don't enjoy riddles."

  WroOth mouthed the words "yes they do" to Amelia, then kicked back in the chair. "There is one excellent test to determine whether you're dealing with a real dragon or a Vawtrian who has assumed a dragon form."