“Go to them!” Octiva appeared at her side and gestured. “Now!”
Akub obeyed. She reached the end of the corridor that led to a staircase to the stables. Only the dotted glows of lit torches with their individual pools of light could be seen at the base, bobbing in the dark.
Shouts of fighting and fury echoed up to her.
Late afternoon twilight crept across the cold glory. Far from the warmth of hearths and fireplaces, the frigid wind and icy chill seeped into the walls. The hallway also contained something else.
The faint traces of evil.
“You’re hard to find.” Manola reached the top of the staircase, surprising Akub and sending her reeling back into the hall.
Cloaked and covered in snow, Manola appeared like a wintry apparition, lipstick intact, eyes wide with malice.
Akub recovered, but only just. “Not at all. Like all destructive forces, you sent out a wave of evil the moment you exited the Circle.”
“Forever tethered, you and me. But a destructive force? That definition belongs to you, Devourer.” Manola stood, arms akimbo. Dark hair flecked with snow fell in loose curls to her shoulders. Scarlet nails rested on thin hips.
“I know why you’re here.” Ignoring Manola’s attempt to anger and insult her, Akub removed her cloak. She tossed it away from her.
The empty hallway stretched back toward the Great Hall. Thankful for the lack of people, Akub readied herself for a fight. She hadn’t wanted to battle the wicked woman. Had this been the danger of which the oracle spoke?
Manola grinned—all teeth, no warmth. “After all we’ve done together, Devourer, it’s no surprise you know me so well.”
“Akub.”
Manola laughed as she inched farther in. “Trying to regain some humanity.”
“At least it is an honest and honorable method. Gaining a soul won’t make you human again. Stealing someone else’s being isn’t going to redeem you or remove all the evil and destruction you have wrought, Manola.”
“This from the Devourer? The one woman in the entire Pixlis Galaxy whose hunger for power caused the death of how many again? And you speak to me about redemption?” Manola cackled.
It would be amusing, but Manola lacked breath. A walking corpse, her actions fabricated by habit and need, nothing more.
Akub became uneasy. Experience taught her that an amused Manola should be feared. She must’ve defeated the minister knights because only she remained in the hall. A quiet fell over the area. Where were the others?
“You amuse me.” Manola slinked forward with all the provocative prowess of a predator on the hunt. The air grew thick with tension. The faint scent of magick and power converged in the narrow hallway. The heavy force triggered Akub’s own abilities. A prickling in her fingers raised the violet markings on her hands. They stung with power.
“I’ll not be defined by my past. I’m Akub!” To demonstrate, she lifted her hands, palms out toward Manola, and lowering her index and middle fingers, prepared to cast a spell.
“You are ready to fail, Devourer. Get a belly full of my wrath.” Manola touched her cloak, and it dissolved into ash. The cinders pooled at her feet. Next, she positioned her own hands, scarlet-tipped fingers crafting their own spell-cast.
“No!” Zykeiah arrived with two of her daggers drawn, one in each fist. “You’re leaving this planet—in one piece or in parts. It makes little difference to me.”
Manola’s cool gaze flickered over to the knight seconds before Marion tackled her from behind. Together, they crashed to the floor. Pinned beneath Marion’s massive weight, Manola roared. The minister knight struggled to keep her from squirming. As they wrestled, Zykeiah tried to stab Manola. Unable to keep the sorceress down, Manola managed to roll Marion’s onto his back. She pushed herself to a standing position seconds before Zykeiah sliced her arm. Manola whipped around to her and growled. Beneath her, Marion sat up and snatched Manola’s waist. As he tried to yank her back to the ground, Zykeiah continued to stab at the sorceress.
Moments later, Kanton spilled out behind them and raced to get out of the way of the fight. He stumbled and searched around as he watched the knights and Manola wrangle on the floor. Frowning, he shook his head as if denying what his eyes witnessed.
With a roar, Marion thrashed about, agony written on her face.
“Oh, no!” he shouted, and then covered his mouth at the blood splatter.
“Watch her, Kanton!” Zykeiah pointed at Akub, moments before Manola sent her sailing backward. A hard thud announced his landing on the opposite side of the hallway.
“What?” Akub shouted. How could she still be considered a threat?
It shocked him out of his daze. Kanton turned and grabbed her, and with a serious look and his best effort to be threatening, blocked her path.
“Step aside, Kanton!” Akub roared. “They’re in trouble.”
“I won’t let you help that woman.” And then in a softer tone, he added, “I shouldn’t have helped her either.”
So, she used you, too.
“I’m on your side, remember? Listen to me. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know what Manola was. She’s very persuasive. I know.” Akub tried to touch his elbow to comfort him, but he jerked back.
“I helped her get here!” Kanton shouted, angry tears gathered in his eyes.
“You escort everyone here. You couldn’t have known.”
At this, a thunderous groan preceded Marion sailing through the air. He skidded to a stop several paces down the corridor. Groaning and bloodied, he pushed himself up to his knees and reached for his sword.
Manola, hair askew and face shiny with sweat, laughed. “I let my guard down.” Despite the holes in her torso and thighs, no blood flowed. Only deep gauges of white flesh shined through the fabric. “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive!”
Zykeiah launched herself at the pale sorceress, slicing the air with her daggers. A hideous crack rent the air, followed by the female knight spiraling back down the hallway.
Akub’s heart went cold. “Zykeiah!”
Zykeiah growled in frustration as she scrambled to her feet and raced back toward them. With a scream, she lunged forward once more at her target.
“Your memory must be diminished.” Manola flicked her finger and pushed Zykeiah back again, this time with more force, wrenching an agonizing scream from her.
Everyone froze.
“Pathetic.” Manola yawned and turned to Akub. “Now, where is she? The queen?”
Palace guards funneled into the corridor. The two minister knights stood at the front of the masses, their weapons at the ready. Zykeiah’s labored breathing could be heard, and each breath inflamed Akub’s fury more.
The scent of spilled blood flooded the confined space.
“Oh. Better.” Manola positioned her hands for battle.
Everyone reacted at once.
All of them failed to stop Manola from proceeding down the hall. With ease, she glided through their attacks, dodging Marion’s downward stokes and Zykeiah’s daggers with skill unparalleled. When the guards entered the fray, she avoided their clumsy punches and swings with all the grace of a dancer.
“She’s got some sort of barrier,” Marion panted, as he got to his feet once more. His right eye had begun to close, and scarlet cuts across his chest bled openly. He coughed out a wad of sickly pink salvia. “My sword can’t touch her.”
Zykeiah had a cut lower lip, and purple bruise across her cheek spoke to her injuries. Her hands held cuts from slippage when stabbing with her daggers. “Nor my daggers, not any longer.”
“Move, Kanton!” Akub shouted.
She moved to step around him, but he countered. He kept his body as a wall between her and the fighting. An eerie quiet followed in the wake of the skirmish. Then a low muttering of groans, moans, and anguish echoed through the corridor.
“Hold.” Akub held up her palm, calling forth her magick and moving Kanton out of her path and over to the injured m
inisters.
“Stop! Wait!” Kanton tried to stop her, but her magick held him fast.
“Release.”
Once she released Kanton, Manola dragged him to her.
“The orb.”
“Kanton, look out!” Zykeiah shouted, as she struggled to push herself up to a standing position.
“Stop!” Akub screamed.
Too late.
Manola pressed her hand to Kanton’s back, and pain erupted on the young man’s face as he crumpled to the floor. Akub fought to suppress the growing sense of nausea. Manola peered down at him, transfixed by some sense of disgusted fascination, before stepping over him with complete indifference. “You know I won’t ask again. I will lay waste to everyone here.”
“He helped you get to the castle and you repay him like this?” Akub’s eyes darted from Manola to the litter of bodies scattered around the corridor.
Now.
“Kuharibu!” Akub shouted.
Manola rotated around to counter the spell, but froze in mid-pivot. With mounting outrage, she tried to move. She couldn’t.
Zykeiah got to her feet, wincing as she did so. She stumbled over to Akub. “What did you do?”
“Destroyed her protection spell.” Akub’s hands ached and throbbed. She couldn’t believe it worked. Winded, she inhaled a big gulp of air and let it out slowly.
“You can do that?” Marion lifted his sword from the floor. It scraped against the stone before he hoisted it and slipped it back into his scabbard. He moved in slow, deliberate steps as if in pain.
“I learned the dual spell while, well…that’s a long story. I didn’t think it could work.” Akub’s face hurt. She’d waited too long to join the battle, and she’d let her fear force her to be frozen. Manola would stay in that state until she managed to dissolve the frozen spell with one of her own incantations. Winded and wheezing, she stumbled. Carrying the orb for all those months had drained her endurance. The dual spell for Manola took significant energy as well.
The wench could still breathe. So, Manola remained dangerous.
Akub needed to get off the planet before Manola could free herself.
“Well done, Akub. Stay there.” Battered, injured, and bleeding, Zykeiah remained defiant.
“Before Manola frees herself, return the orb.” Akub held out her hand. “I’ll take it back to Saturn Four.”
“Such a dangerous item will not be bartered.” Zykeiah scooped up her discarded daggers from the floor with labored movements.
“That’s why I want to take it home.” All Akub had to do was speak the words and she could make them give her the sphere as they begged for their lives. Enough of her magick remained. She could devour their very will to live.
From behind them, encased in an invisible bubble, Manola laughed.
Zykeiah shook her head. “You still don’t see, do you?”
Marion reached Akub. “You don’t understand, Akub. You’re the catalyst the oracle warned. You brought her here.”
Akub couldn’t believe it. “No, I—I saved the queen, you, the planet.”
Zykeiah shook her head again. “No, Akub. Manola followed you here. You kidnapped the queen, signaling Manola of your location. Our planet was only in danger because of your actions.”
Sarah arrived and went to check on Marion. She wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and he leaned on her. “The queen is safe. Octiva and I guarded her.”
Marion continued. “Where did you get the orb? Probably from her.”
“No.” A numbness took over Akub. She snatched up her cloak and yanked it on to warm herself—by the goddess, she wanted to feel something other than the cold realization that began to dawn on her. Could they be right? Octiva. The goddess. Could her belief have blinded her? Allowed her to be used?
“I just defeated Manola. Saved you all from destruction! And you accuse me?” The edge of panic rose in her throat. She wanted to rush them, but they all had lowered their weapons and gawked at her with pitiful expressions.
Could Zykeiah’s words be close to the truth?
“In the morning, Zykeiah will escort you to the Circle.” Marion shrugged Sarah off with a wince, bent down, and scooped Kanton up into his arms. He looked down at Akub. Kanton remained unconscious, and blood trickled from his mouth.
By the goddess, Kanton! He’d entered the battle. No sword. No shield. Not a minister knight—yet. Kanton held all the markings of a squire. Solid build. Eager. Brave. Selfless. Oh yes, in no time at all, he would be called up to join them.
With horror gnawing inside, Akub couldn’t speak, and she turned away from Kanton. Words eluded her. Had the oracle deceived her?
Zykeiah spoke to Marion. “What of Manola?”
“Your spell will hold?” Marion asked Akub.
“Not for long,” Akub acknowledged. “The threads will unwind soon.”
“Guards! Sarah, go with them and move her to one of the cells. We’ll escort her off the planet tomorrow, too.”
Kalah lumbered in from the Great Hall. Battered, injured, his left arm hung at a strange angle. He shot a grin to them. “Didn’t we leave that witch on Solis?”
Marion grimaced. “Three years and a lifetime ago, minister.”
Akub heard all—and none—of their words. She huddled into her cloak and tried to make sense of the turn of events. Once Marion and Zykeiah suggested it, she couldn’t let it go. Had the oracle been warning her against herself? Could that be why the message hadn’t come through as clear as the others?
“Come with me,” Zykeiah said.
Akub allowed herself to be led down the hallway toward the knight’s private living space once again. Zykeiah didn’t lead the ministers, but her rooms had been centrally situated to the Great Hall.
After she opened her room door, Zykeiah groaned as she rotated her left arm in slow arcs. Bruises, welts, and swelling began to transform her features. Puffy and painful, they seemed to reduce her natural beauty to that of gross injury.
Akub had done that by leading Manola to Veloris.
Zykeiah went to a pouch she kept beside the chair. After rummaging, she took out some leafy herbs, spat on them, and rubbed them onto the cuts and abrasions along her face. The slow work of addressing her injuries occurred in silence. Zykeiah used thick strips of fabric to wrap along her ribs.
Akub looked away. She had done this—hurt the one person she cared most about.
Zykeiah went to a tiny black cauldron, ladled out a cup of something hot into her mug. She sipped slowly as if the simple act of sipping pained her. Wearing nothing more than her bare feet, pants, and undershirt, Zykeiah continued taking careful sips of the hot liquid.
Akub sat on the floor beside a rocking chair. She placed the heels of her feet together and closed her eyes, shutting out the environment. Maybe Marion had been right. She’d been a pawn and had put into motion the events of the last few rotations. The greatest threat to Veloris, to Zykeiah, had been her.
Moments felt like rotations that lengthened to years in a blink. Zykeiah placed her mug on top of the mantle. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to make a pad down here.”
“I can go back to Kanton’s, to the village. I don’t want to be more trouble…”
Zykeiah’s glowing eyes pinned her to the spot. “Stay here. I don’t trust you outside the castle walls.”
“You trust me to sleep in the same room as you.” Akub didn’t make it a question.
“I trust my ability to defend myself, even in slumber.” With that, Zykeiah left the outer sitting room.
Now, in silence, the fire’s crackle served as the only sound.
Despite Zykeiah’s words, Akub noted that the warrior didn’t yell, scream, or throw one of her daggers at her, so that was something. She let out her breath and set about putting together her makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. The floor would be rough, but she was so weary—emotionally and physically—she doubted she would feel much more than soreness. The hearth burned potta tree branches, and t
he scent calmed her.
A small circle of light from Zykeiah's bedchamber gave her pause. For just that small moment, she lived. In the same place as Zykeiah, and yet, so far away from the woman she loved. Akub removed her boots and crouched down to her pad for sleep. The blankets, accompanied by the fire, created a toasty warmth in the room.
Minutes passed. Akub tossed and turned on the pink danker rug. Her muscles ached, and her mind struggled to relax. Unable to drift off to sleep, she sat up. Soft snores emanated from Zykeiah’s room. Clearly, the minister had no trouble resting with the threat of Manola looming in the castle. Tomorrow, they’d both be escorted off world and returned to Saturn Four, a thriving kingdom much more equipped to do more with Manola.
Akub rubbed her arms for warmth. Manola had arrived on the ice planet, and that chilled Akub to the bone. The Minister Knights of Souls didn’t appear to be much of a threat or force. Then she caught herself as memories of Zykeiah’s and Marion’s refusal to give up during their fight with Manola came flooding back.
No, that perseverance and courage gave the ministers their strength. They wouldn’t stop fighting, even as each of them fell.
She got up and walked toward Zykeiah's bedchamber. The restlessness rattled around her mind. The potta did relax her, but mentally, she couldn't dismiss the presence of Manola. It loomed over her like a dense fog.
"Zy…" Akub said before falling short. She peered through the wire screen that separated the outer room from the sleeping chamber. The light emanated from a fat pink candle. It had burned down low; again, the scent of potta filled the air. Her fireplace sat in shadowy darkness. The room was remarkably neat and orderly.
She expected nothing less of Zykeiah.
Her mouth slackened when her eyes fell on a sleeping Zykeiah. Dressed in a soft gown made of a creamy fabric, she lay on top of her blankets. Her gown had pushed past her knees in sleep, revealing toned and scarred thighs. With her lips parted, an expression of dreaminess on her face, Zykeiah in slumber presented a stunning woman. Relaxed, the hardened minister knight rested.
Akub remained standing in her spot with Zykeiah’s warning in her ears. She wouldn’t test Zykeiah’s claims of defense, even when sleeping. Still, it had been ions since she’d seen Zykeiah so unrestrained, free, and open. No mask. No wall to separate them—physical or emotional. Her eyes traveled up from her toes, along her exposed legs, and across her small breasts on up to her sleeping face.
Devourer: A Minister Knight Novel (The Minister Knights Series Book 2) Page 9