Origins

by A D Starrling

  Mila startled, recalling Romerus’s final words before Crovir stabbed him.

  ‘At least Mila was there to witness it, however horrifying it must have been,’ Helena continued. ‘Otherwise we would be none the wiser as to the true identity of his killer. No doubt Crovir would have found another innocent soul to blame instead of admitting that Romerus died at the hands of his own son. His firstborn.’

  ‘Will King Bastian believe us if we talk to him?’ said Aäron in the hush that followed.

  Helena looked at him and hesitated. ‘This I cannot answer.’ She sighed. ‘Although they equally share ownership of the Empire, the love Bastian has for Crovir knows no bounds and often renders him weak. I have seen it firsthand, over hundreds of years of being in their company. He worships the ground his older brother walks on and has always had a hard time giving credence to any misdeed Crovir is accused of.’

  Baruch frowned. ‘Father is loyal to a fault but we must apprise him of this. He has to listen to reason.’

  Malachi stirred and looked between Mila and Aäron. ‘And what of the rest of what you have told us, cousin? About this…human alliance and this army that would see Uryl fall?’

  Ysa narrowed her eyes. ‘I am also keen to hear more about that.’

  Mila’s gaze shifted to Aäron. He studied her for a moment before nodding.

  And so she spoke, of what they had already told Navia and Jared in the desert, of the promise made over one hundred years past by a former governor of Parsah, of the secret cities and the recently-elected human king, of the vast army amassing in clandestine locations throughout the Empire and the men and women still joining their ranks, of Kadavan and the prisoners and governors they freed.

  ‘You took Kadavan?’ Tobias said hoarsely, his face draining of color.

  Ysa grimaced. ‘Of all the things we have just heard, that is what concerns you the most?’

  Baruch frowned. ‘It is a big that.’

  Rafael studied Mila, doubt lacing his voice when he spoke. ‘So what are you saying, cousin?’

  She looked down at her hands where they lay on the table, a storm of thoughts and emotions twisting through her. Then she raised her head and met their gazes one by one, ending last with Aäron. The expression in his blue eyes stilled the tempest inside her heart and mind.

  She took a deep breath and spoke the words she had uttered that night in the prison fortress. ‘The Empire must fall.’

  Tobias blinked and drew back in shock.

  ‘What?’ said Baruch in a low voice.

  ‘For the good of all, we must end our dominion over this world.’ Mila’s voice softened. ‘It was never ours to rule. Neither was it our destiny to enslave the human race.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ whispered Hosanna where she sat next to Baruch.

  ‘Romerus said so, on the night he died.’ Mila swallowed. ‘That he never wanted the Empire, never asked his sons to conquer all those cities and nations. He said—’ her voice caught in her throat, ‘—he said he had made a promise, to the One who bestowed upon him the gifts that made Crovir and Bastian Immortal.’

  ‘A promise?’ Phebe repeated.

  ‘What—what promise?’ mumbled Beatrix from pale lips.

  ‘That he would allow them free will,’ Mila replied. ‘That he would not interfere with their actions. As if the paths chosen by Crovir and Bastian all this time were a—trial of sorts.’

  ‘A trial for what?’ said Baruch.

  Mila shook her head. ‘This I do not know.’ She studied them again, her gaze flittering over their various expressions, seeing doubt and unease and fear. ‘All that we have done since the time of our births has been for one purpose only. To grow this empire. An empire drenched in blood and erected on the bones and skulls of thousands of innocent souls.’

  A snort escaped Tobias. ‘I never thought I would see the day the strongest and most successful among us at expanding that very empire grew a conscience.’

  ‘Tobias,’ Ysa said miserably.

  ‘He is right,’ said Baruch. A muscle jumped in his jawline as he stared at Mila. ‘Do you understand what you are asking us to do, cousin? To go to war with our own fathers? Do you know the anarchy that will follow?’

  Mila observed her eldest brother and cousin, the two most powerful Immortals after her. The generals of the Empire’s army.

  ‘We have been blind. All these years, we have been living in a dream. No, a nightmare created by our fathers.’ She paused, her gaze shifting to Aäron’s piercing blue eyes once more. ‘Ask yourself this. What is it that you want? Deep down inside, ignoring the fact that you are princes and princesses of the Empire, ignoring your immortality and other unearthly gifts, what do you truly wish for, for yourself and your children? What destiny would you choose to carve if you had free will?’

  They approached the city from the northwest as dawn swept across the land, aiming for one of the smaller gates to avoid the commotion that would no doubt greet her arrival.

  ‘Are you sure you would not rather wait out here somewhere while I bring Kronos to you?’ said Jared as the walls of Issin came in sight.

  ‘No,’ replied Mila. She narrowed her eyes at the distant ramparts. ‘If I am to do this, I will do so at our palace. Besides, I must talk to the men stationed in our barracks.’

  ‘Mila is right,’ said Helena above the drum of their horses’ hooves.

  Their mother had decided to accompany her and Jared to Issin, while the others returned to their cities to reflect on her words and make their decision.

  ‘You know where I will be waiting,’ Mila had told her siblings and cousins when they departed Larraak the night before.

  They had nodded, their expressions grim, before whirling their horses around and heading for the gates of the city.

  ‘They are a sight to behold,’ Aäron had murmured from where he sat atop his own steed.

  Mila had studied him, sadness spearing through her. From that point until their meeting with Darius and the other leaders of the alliance, he would travel north and west to join the various factions of their growing army and coordinate their plans.

  ‘Be safe,’ she said quietly.

  Aäron smiled, unspoken words filling the silence between them, before turning his horse around.

  She had watched him leave, her gaze latched on his wide back until he faded from view, conscious of her mother and Malachi’s curious stares, and Jared’s shrewd one. Only Navia had observed her with a degree of empathy. As they headed into the palace, Mila had wondered if her cousin’s compassion had anything to do with her own forbidden feelings for Jared.

  She had slept fitfully in the short time until their departure for Issin, her dreams filled with images from the events of the last Half Moon. It was when she unconsciously stretched her arm out and could not feel Aäron’s warmth that she had awoken and realized she had gotten used to him being by her side. She had lain in the dark and stared at the ceiling for a long time, a deep yearning filling her.

  They left Larraak under a clear, starry sky, Abu dozing on the saddle before her as they raced across the dark land. He awoke when they approached Issin, a contented squeak leaving his chest at the sight of his home. He flapped his wings and rose into the fading night.

  Mila let him leave, confident he would be waiting for her somewhere ahead. She lowered her gaze and studied the city growing on the horizon grimly.

  Let us hope that he listens to reason.

  All thoughts of Kronos and the confrontation to come fled her mind when they reached the gates. Though the soldiers shouted at the sight of her and Mila sensed their hostility, she could tell they were distracted.

  She ignored Jared and Helena as they commanded the flustered men to stand down and guided Buros over to a captain who stood watching them, his face pale. ‘What is it? What is wrong?’

  The man stared at her as if he were seeing a ghost. ‘Princess—my queen—’

  Unease flashed through Mila. A call sounded in the early mornin
g light. Abu’s shrill cry. It had come from the direction of the palace.

  Apprehension turned to alarm. Mila steered the stallion around and galloped toward the center of Issin, the soldiers in her path scattering as she charged through them. She recognized Abu’s tone. It spoke of death.

  She found them on the terrace overlooking the city, outside the main hall, the hawk whirling agitatedly in the sky above.

  Mila’s steps faltered as she rushed toward the crowd of silent servants, acid burning the back of her throat when she registered the old woman sitting in their midst and the small body in her arms. Helena’s gasp reached her dimly from behind.

  Mila took no heed of the servants’ shocked murmurs as she walked slowly through them to where Emet’s grandmother sat, clothes still wet from the previous day’s storm, her lined face expressionless as she gazed blindly over Issin.

  Emet lay in her slack hold, his limbs locked in the stiffness of death, face blue and neck at an awkward angle. In his right hand was a beautiful scarf, now sodden with rain.

  Blood roared in Mila’s ears as she dropped to her knees beside the old woman. Emet’s grandmother unfroze, head turning slowly until she met Mila’s stricken gaze, her own eyes lifeless and dry.

  Shadows fell across them as Helena and Jared joined their side.

  ‘What happened?’ said Mila’s mother hoarsely.

  Emet’s grandmother glanced at Helena and Jared before staring at Mila once more. In her gaze, Mila read the terrible answer to the question her mother had just posed.

  ‘He took them,’ said the old woman. ‘He killed my Emet and took the children.’

  ‘Kronos?’ said Jared, disbelief underlying his harsh tone.

  ‘No,’ Mila whispered before the old woman could muster a reply. ‘Crovir.’

  Emet’s grandmother nodded. Helena cried out and crumpled to the ground. Jared swore. Mila stared at the dead boy, her body going rigid, ice filling her veins.

  ‘He tried to stop him,’ said Emet’s grandmother. A humorless chuckle left her lips. ‘This foolish child thought he could keep the princess safe. While her own father stood by and did nothing, he walked up to King Crovir and challenged him.’

  Her laughter turned to low sobs and she hugged her dead grandson tightly to her chest.

  ‘Where is Kronos?’ Jared asked one of the servants.

  ‘He—he went to Uryl, at the command of the king, my prince,’ came the mumbled reply.

  Mila lifted a hand and gently caressed Emet’s cold cheek. Marks branded his neck, a dark chain of fingerprints. She knew without being told how he had met his death.

  His innocent smiling face came to her mind from that day so many Moons ago, when she first met him in Uryl. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision.

  ‘Did the king hurt my children too?’ she asked softly.

  Silence answered her. Her fingers stilled on the dead boy’s skin before slowly curling.

  Mila moved, her violent motion causing the servants to draw back, her fist striking the ground with the full power of her rage. She threw her head back and screamed. In the sky above, Abu’s stricken shriek echoed the agony in her voice.

  The floor cracked, spiderweb fissures spreading and widening across the terrace. Panicked shouts sounded from the servants and the soldiers who had followed from the city as a terrible force swept across the palace, forcing them back several steps.

  The storm washed through Mila, raw, unrestrained, fury like she had never before known turning her mind red. Then arms surrounded her, her mother and her brother fighting the tempest to enclose her body in their hold until the world stopped trembling and the air ceased to vibrate with the wrathful energy burning inside her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Bastian studied the giant man who rested on one knee at the bottom of the dais in the throne room of Uryl. He reeked of sweat and filth, his missing teeth creating an unpleasant gaping void in his mouth when he spoke, his broken nose a swollen, deformed lump in the midst of his face.

  Crovir sat stiffly in the ceremonial chair beside Bastian, face dark with anger. ‘Are you certain?’

  The troop commander from Kadavan swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, my king. Even as I speak, more cities answer the call of the governors who were once prisoners of Kadavan and the army of the enemy grows. But the Red Queen never revealed to us the exact location of the throne where the false human king sits. All I know is that the governor of Dur Untash is somehow involved and that some of the men were from Parsah.’

  Though the soldier had recounted what had happened in Kadavan six nights past before he fled to bring them news of the prison break, Bastian could still not quite believe that his niece had had the audacity to pull off such a coup. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that echoed the lingering doubt he still felt following his conversation with Baruch on the day of Romerus’s funeral.

  Crovir rose to his feet. ‘Thank you. You will be rewarded for your loyalty.’

  The troop commander stood and bowed before turning and exiting the throne room. He passed Kronos on the way out and dipped his chin respectfully.

  ‘Leave us,’ Crovir ordered the men guarding the doors and the servants hovering in the shadows.

  They scurried away, their footsteps fading in the distance. Silence fell inside the throne room.

  ‘Now you see?’ hissed Crovir. ‘You see what she is capable of?!’

  He glared at Kronos. The latter avoided his father’s gaze, his face pale.

  ‘We must gather our forces and exterminate this threat. Send a message to Tobias and Baruch. I want them here tonight and our army mobilized by morning!’

  Kronos nodded. He glanced uneasily at Bastian and strode out of the throne room, his back rigid.

  ‘What are you thinking, brother?’

  Bastian startled and turned to find Crovir studying him closely. A sliver of ice danced through his consciousness at the expression in his older sibling’s eyes.

  It reminded him of their early years together, when they had set about conquering distant cities in foreign lands, the Empire a far-fetched dream they spoke of when they were full of drink and seated around a fire under the stars. Though their physical strength and stamina more than matched on the battlefield, Crovir had always possessed the more twisted personality of the two of them and had never shown pity for their enemies, be it man, woman, or child.

  It was with relief that Bastian had relinquished control of their army to him and their children, to better concentrate on managing their vast and complex kingdom. When his eldest daughter Hosanna showed an uncanny aptitude for dealing with the governors of the cities they ruled, he had assigned her the task of being the Empire’s main representative and liaison, along with the duty of collecting its tithes. And so he insulated himself from the harsh realities of the conflicts that always simmered on the edges of their domain for a hundred years, turning a blind eye to his brother’s cruel military campaigns and a deaf ear to some of the horrific tales he heard, preferring instead to lose himself in numbers and administrative ventures.

  For his love for Crovir surpassed nearly everything in his life, even his love for his own children. There was an unbreakable bond between them, one they shared not only by virtue of their blood relation, but also because of something else, something intangible. It was the simmering energy of the gifts they were granted when they were but mere mortal children and lay dying of the sickness that had darkened all corners of the world. An unearthly life force that was in constant resonance between them, pulling them together, whether they wanted it or not. A connection that sapped at his once iron will in exchange for keeping the peace between brothers.

  Crovir arched an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

  ‘I am thinking that you are right.’

  Shock reverberated through Bastian when he realized that the words he had just uttered were a lie, the first he had ever told his brother in their hundreds of years of existence. It took steady resolve to keep his face neutral and me
et Crovir’s gaze unflinchingly.

  The latter watched him for a moment longer. ‘Good.’

  Later that day, as he stood staring out over Uryl on the terrace outside his private quarters, still perplexed by the falsehood he had uttered earlier in the throne room and troubled by the treacherous thoughts filling his mind, a messenger delivered a parchment stamped with Baruch’s seal.

  Bastian dismissed the man and unrolled the scroll, lines furrowing his brow. He stilled when he saw the words within. He read the message again and gazed blindly into space for a long time. Then he burned the parchment and watched it turn to ash before he left his chambers.

  Baruch paced the ground briskly, his boots carving trails in the dirt.

  ‘He will come,’ said Hosanna. ‘Have faith.’

  He glanced at her with a frown.

  ‘Seriously, stop,’ groaned Tobias. ‘Just watching you reminds me of that time we were on that voyage on the South Sea.’

  ‘You mean the one where you were sick?’ said Ysa. ‘Truly sick?’

  ‘By Gods, you spewed everywhere that day,’ muttered Rafael.

  Phebe grimaced. ‘Please, do not remind me. I was the first in his firing range.’

  ‘Shut up,’ grumbled Tobias.

  Despite their lighthearted banter, Baruch sensed the same tension that thrummed through his veins in their stiff postures and troubled eyes. They heard it then, the sound of rapidly approaching hoof beats. As one, they turned and stared west, down the gradient of the hill where they stood waiting, past Romerus’s citadel in the distance and to the vast city beyond.

  But it was not from Uryl that the horses approached. Puzzlement flashed through Baruch and he raised a hand instinctively to the blade at his waist as his gaze swung north. He stared at the two figures storming across the plains toward the hill.