"Because there is no way. The prophecy requires that you stop us from our conquest of the Tue-Rah. It does not say kill. But I will tell you, Amelia, the only way I will stop is if I am dead. I will not negotiate with you about this." He turned, but when he saw her, he swore under his breath. His gaze riveted to her body. Inhaling sharply, he looked back at her face. "What is your offer, viskaro?"
Amelia hesitated, startled by the abrupt change. "If you—"
"Why are you standing so near the door?" Naatos asked, stepping closer. "If you want to talk with me, come talk with me."
Amelia let him take her hands in his. He was looking at her strangely now, an almost hungry expression in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her this way. "I need you to cease your conquest of the worlds. All of the prisoners must be set free. We'll restore the Tue-Rahs, let everything go, and then you can choose wherever you want to live in all of creation, and I will go with you. I will follow you wherever you go and dedicate myself to your happiness."
For a moment, Naatos's eyes widened. Then he chuckled. He cupped his hand along her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips. "How gracious of you, viskaro. Long have my brothers and I desired to be farmers."
"You don't have to be farmers. Just not warlords. Aren't there more careers you could pursue other than that? I remember hearing that some Vawtrians would go and tame worlds. Empty worlds. Worlds without people. Couldn't we do that? I would go with you, even if it meant I would never see the people I loved again." Amelia didn't pull away as he continued to caress her. He was only half listening.
"And what of my brothers? Is it right for me to sacrifice their desires to placate you?" Naatos asked.
"AaQar intends to die. He only wants your family to be continued. And WroOth seems to feel the same way except for the suicide part. The Tue-Rah means more to you than to both of them combined. Besides, you could convince them if there were concerns. You are the leader, aren't you?"
Naatos shrugged slightly. "If one of us must be named as such, then for now, I am."
"It's the best way to protect your family," Amelia said. "And I'll help."
"You'll help me protect my family?" Naatos smiled. He removed his Neyeb betrothal necklace from his pocket and fastened it around her neck. Hers hung around his. "You are an arrogant and over-confident little creature, aren't you?"
It didn't strike Amelia as a cruel statement. She was. To a point. She remained where she was, not pressing closer to Naatos. What was this life going to be like? It wasn’t anything she had prepared for. "I am. And I'm right."
"If this is the only way you will agree, well…" Naatos pulled her closer and turned her palms up. "I suppose you've left me with no other choice." His smile broadened as he nuzzled her, his voice softening. "I am pleased, at least, that you have accepted me as your husband. That is something."
Amelia nodded. "So you'll free the prisoners and let everyone go right away?"
Naatos gripped her wrists and pressed the base of his palms against her elmis. "If that is what you require, of course."
Amelia gasped. She had intended to see whether he was lying, but instead of sensing the truth, she was overwhelmed with an intense and shocking pleasure. It radiated from her hands through her arms to her chest. Twisting back, she jerked free. "What are you doing?"
"Being your husband." Naatos pulled her back, his arm sliding around her waist this time. "The elmis are used for many things, but they are especially useful for the joining of a husband and wife's thoughts and minds."
"That's a little…abrupt." Amelia stiffened as Naatos's arm tightened around her. It also didn't feel as if her mind was what was being drawn to him.
"The elmis on your hands and forehead are strong, but they are not the strongest."
As his forehead touched hers, a similar spark passed through her. Amelia gulped in another startled breath. "Why is it happening now?"
Naatos kissed her cheek. "Because I'm here, and because you're letting it."
Amelia's skin prickled, but it wasn't unpleasant. His lips lingered against her skin, then he raised her face to his pressed his mouth over hers.
As soon as their lips touched, everything changed. Naatos pulled her tighter to his body, lifting her off the ground.
His presence and thoughts crashed with her own. With Shon, it had been a tentative interjection, the slightest flavor suggesting that there would be something between them. But with Naatos, there was no restraint. It was like trying to take in a mouthful of turmeric and cinnamon at once. She couldn't even breathe in the intensity of that moment.
Warmth wrapped around her and through her. The strange black hall appeared in her mind again, the tapestries spiraling around her with a fury. Image after image thrust itself into her mind, moving so swiftly she could not comprehend even one. But it continued, rising and increasing. Desires that were not her own threatened to overwhelm her.
She tried to move her mouth away. "Let me breathe," she gasped, bracing her hands against his chest.
"Then breathe." Naatos clutched her closer, kissing her neck and her shoulders. His hands slid along her body.
Every time Amelia closed her eyes, the room returned. The spiraling tapestries and the rush of the wind against her face ever increasing, ever growing. The strength of it no longer seemed as painful, though it did not lessen. Instead, she breathed between the moments, finding a rhythm she did not fully understand and yet could feel.
Then, all at once, something snapped in all of her elmis. Everything came into focus. Amelia yanked away and stared at her palms. They looked the same, strange splatters of darker pigmentation. "What…what happened?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat. They were now sitting on the bench together. She didn't even remember moving there.
Naatos stroked her hair. "It's just part of the process." He dropped his hand over hers again and rubbed the outer edge of her elmi, sending another thrill of pleasure through her body. "My mark is made, and according to both Neyeb and Vawtrian tradition, you are my viskaro, my beloved."
Amelia pushed the loose strands of hair from her face. The emotions that remained inside her were tangled and garbled. "I…" She shook her head. Everything was clearer now. It was like something had come into focus. He was falling in love with her. It was a wild, frightening form of love, but it was growing. And… "You lied to me."
"You made me essentially the same offer you made before," Naatos said. He kissed her fingers. "We were getting nowhere. Why should I give up the Tue-Rah to have you when I can have you and keep the Tue-Rah?"
Amelia's head spun. She tugged her hands free and staggered to her feet. "Because you won't have me. You need my cooperation. You're locked. I'm not. I can take other lovers if I choose."
"You certainly may. But if you do, I will kill them brutally. Painfully." Naatos followed her. He cupped his hand beneath her chin and brought her gaze back to his. "All of your kisses, affection, and love are mine, and I will not share them. I spared Shon as a kindness to you. But give away a kiss in more than friendship or familial love to another, and I will see to it that the man dies in agony, cursing the day he met you."
Amelia glared at him. "What sort of marriage do you think this is going to be?"
"It is going to be a marriage where I will not be manipulated simply because I want to feshtashoon you. And make no mistake. I do want you, and we will feshtashoon. I will give you anything I can, but not the Tue-Rah and not the worlds. You will not manipulate me, Amelia."
Amelia knotted her fists. "You aren't even going to release the Ayamin and the prisoners, are you?"
"Of course not."
"Are Shon and Matthu even alive?" Amelia demanded. "Or did you break that promise too?"
Naatos rolled his eyes. "The ceremony for the execution of your attackers starts shortly. Go collect yourself and meet me in the southern courtyard. When the ceremony is finished, we will resume this conversation."
"Naatos—" Amelia started. She wanted to strike him, but she
didn't dare get closer.
Naatos pointed to the door. "Go now, or I'll kiss you again, and we'll have to postpone the execution for another three hours because you won't leave until I'm done with you."
"This isn't helping me like you." Amelia flung the door open. "You can't have it all, Naatos! It doesn't work that way."
"Yes, it does. And do not make further trouble, do you understand? If you defy me publicly, there will be consequences."
Amelia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her. One look at Naatos convinced her this wasn't a conversation worth continuing. She bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
41
A Devastating Choice
Shon pulled on the rope, his muscles knotting. The guara shook its head and dug its feet back into the rock. Matthu served as the anchor while Shon dragged in another strand of rope. The rope muzzle on the guara's head kept its thick jaws shut. Up close, it no longer looked so fierce. In fact, it looked as if it should be set loose in a giant's herb garden.
Three Machat descended upon it, restraining it quickly and skillfully. "Release," the shortest of the Machat called back. He patted the guara on the base of its neck. "You calmed down all right, didn't you?"
Shon let the rope slide from his hands. No other guaras were in sight. Soon they would be done. Five of the Machat raced up the passage to retrieve the last guaras the others had lassoed.
Matthu wiped the sweat from his forehead. "That's what, the eightieth guara?"
Shon nodded. It had been harder and harder for him to keep calm this afternoon. In other situations, he dealt with troubling thoughts or conflicts by ignoring them until they could not be ignored any longer. Generally, such delays allowed him to reach a point where he could handle matters, but that was not the case today.
The Ayamin had suffered a horrific defeat. Never before had all of the Ayamin in all of the waypoints been captured and the palace lost as well. Granted, they had not had an army to back them up as most other generations had, but King Theol had to honor his father's vows. And even so, there had been periods in the past when there had been no standing army, and in those times, no one had attacked.
It burdened Shon to know how deeply they had failed. With so many trapped in the dungeons here, they might successfully launch a new attack. But what could be done differently to ensure that they beat the Vawtrians? The Talbokians could be driven back easily enough, but the three Paras were the problem. And Matthu…
Shon had said nothing more of Matthu's illness. Yet even as he watched Matthu wiping away the sweat on his brow, Shon knew his brother was far from well.
Crossing over to a well-lit nook where the Machat had stashed some supplies, Shon picked up a waterskin and playfully swiped Matthu's arm. "Hey," he said, forcing a smile and hoping his voice sounded lighter than he felt. It might have been his imagination, but Matthu looked worse than before, his skin taking a faint green shade. "Drink this."
Dirt and red dust lined Matthu's face. Matthu accepted the waterskin and drank deeply.
"How are you feeling?" Shon asked.
Matthu's forehead tweaked. "Are you worried about me?"
"I'm always worried about you."
Shon glanced back into the large chamber behind them. The sight was enough to boggle his mind. Even though over a hundred Machat milled about, tending to various tasks, they barely made any sounds. All of the captured guaras were bound, drugged, and carefully lined up in neat rows on the floor like twine-bound watermelons with tails. According to the Machat, it would soon be time to free the Ayamin.
"I'm fine." Matthu wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and returned the waterskin to Shon. "I don't think Naatos will hurt her, you know. He needs her alive."
"If that was so, Irasso would have said it." Shon picked up the end of a loose rope and knotted it. His thoughts were a confused mass, worse than the ropes after one of the guaras had stumbled into them. The longer he was away from Amelia, the clearer his feelings for her became. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, to be there for her, and then to be with her. But thinking about her only distracted him. He needed to be focused and collected. Then when the opportunity came to strike, he would. It was pleasant to imagine killing Naatos himself.
"Maybe." Matthu leaned closer, then glanced around. None of the Machat appeared to be listening as they continued with their tasks. Matthu lowered his voice. "I think the Machat are good, but I don't think they're nice. They're not going to go out of their way to tell you something just to make you feel better. We know Amelia will survive. That's what matters."
Shon nodded. "True." And there was no guarantee for any of the rest of them. Particularly not Matthu.
As Matthu swayed slightly, more of the torchlight revealed his face. It wasn't Shon's imagination. Matthu was getting paler, and his left hand shook.
Shon frowned. "Are you nervous?"
"Nope." Matthu shoved up his sleeves. If he noticed the trembling in his hand, he didn't show it. He looped his thumbs over his belt and grinned. "I'm ready to take down some Talbokians. Hey Irasso, when are we going?"
Irasso turned, a large reed flute in his hand. "Momentarily." His gaze shifted from Matthu to Shon before he strode away. "So long as your commander permits it."
Matthu gave Shon a quizzical look. "Of course he does."
"Naatos hit you hard," Shon said, unsure of what else to say that wouldn't hurt his brother. As much as they needed bodies for the rescue, the reality was that Matthu wasn't in the best shape.
"I slept it off. I'm fine."
Shon studied his younger brother carefully. Neither he nor Matthu liked admitting their weaknesses. He wouldn't humiliate his brother by discussing it in front of the Machat. But if he couldn't protect Amelia, he could at least protect someone else who was incredibly important to him. "I think we need to talk in private."
"What is there to talk about?" Matthu knotted his fingers tighter over his belt. "We're about to storm Polfradon."
"Keep your voices down," Irasso said, passing by again. "We do not want to alert anyone early."
Matthu watched him leave and then looked back to Shon. "What's going on?" he asked. He wiped his mouth again, that sheen of sweat once more covering his face. "Did I do something wrong?"
Shon opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Matthu's whole left arm was shaking. "You need to sit now."
The trembling intensified. Matthu staggered to sit, but before he could lower himself, convulsions shook his body. All color drained from his face as he collapsed, his body writhing violently.
"Matthu!" Shon grabbed Matthu by the shoulders. He tried to stop him from thrashing, but the force of his brother's movement bucked him off. Shon seized him again and pushed him to the ground. Two Machat dashed around him and took hold Matthu's legs.
Irasso dropped down beside Matthu, uncorked a vial, and poured five pungent drops into Matthu's mouth. The convulsions slowed. Irasso then sealed the bottle, removed another small flask, and poured three drops into each of Matthu's eyes. "This is accelerating faster than I thought."
"What do you mean?" Shon demanded. He dug his fingers tighter into his brother's shoulders. "It hasn't been half the time you said it would take."
"The Neyeb who has done this is stronger than I thought. Strong but wild. It is growing in his mind." Irasso placed his hands over Matthu's face. Matthu moaned, his breaths snagging in and out of his chest. "He needs to be taken to New Istador. Zawkwor may be able to do something to slow this. The skelros know the way, but you will have to carry him to their stables. Chialao, show them the path. You can carry him, can't you?"
"Of course I can." Shon set his jaw. Leaning forward, he picked Matthu up, draping him over his shoulder. It had been a long time since he'd had to do this. And that last time Matthu had managed to sprain both his ankles and pull his hamstring in an impressive attempt at a triple narwil spin with a full round strikethrough. Shon had had to carry him three miles to the nearest village.
Matthu had spent almost the entire trip, cracking jokes, mocking himself, and reminding Shon of other failed attempts. That had been a good memory, but this one wouldn't be.
Shon staggered slightly under the weight of Matthu's limp body as he stood again. He swallowed, fighting to keep his nerves under control. If the Neyeb was stronger than Irasso thought, who knew how long Matthu had? He readjusted his grip on Matthu's legs, stabilizing him. Matthu flopped over his shoulder like a doll, his arms hanging loose over his head. Stay with me, Matthu, Shon thought.
As he turned, he met Irasso's gaze. The Machat stared at him, his eyes half-closed as if deep in thought.
Shon's blood chilled. "What? Is Matthu going to live?"
Irasso closed his eyes. "Perhaps, but…you…" He opened his eyes again, his pupils constricted. "You do not have much time. Go swiftly. Return if you wish. I must go. The Neyeb must be stopped before…" He let his voice trail off, and he hurried down the chamber.
"What in the…" Shon stared after Irasso, his mouth open.
"Do you want to save your brother or ponder what hasn't been said?" Chialao folded her arms. She wore a serious expression, her light-brown hair pulled back in a loosely woven braid. "We have to move quickly."
"Give me a sword, and show me the way," Shon said. Answers would have to wait.
"We don't have swords," Chialao said. "But here's a dagger. You won't need it though."
Grunting, Shon shook his head. He slid the dagger into the sheath at his side. It was better than nothing. "Show me the way."
Chialao lit a small candle from the nearest torch and led him past the other Machat, who continued on their rescue preparations. They went up a small winding side passage. The light from the little flame reflected on the slightly damp mud walls. These looked as if they had been dug out recently. The shorings themselves were fresh wood, much of it still white or pale yellow. "Who did this? Naatos or the Machat?" Shon asked.
Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles Page 38