Eilith kept pushing her thin needle through the delicate fabric resting in a wooden hoop on her lap, unaware of the turmoil her son was experiencing. She let out a humming breath as she completed her final stitch with that particular color, finally looking up to meet his eyes with a satisfied smile. She turned the piece around to show him.
“Do you think Casmit will like this? It’s for her birthday next month.”
“I don’t care about Casmit!” Roann’s voice boomed off of the rich tandlewood wall panels of his mother’s sitting room.
Eilith flinched. “What’s come over you? I thought you were past all this brooding nonsense!”
And instantly, the voice in his head died.
Lightning-quick, Roann lunged at his mother over the coffee table and grabbed her by the shoulders. Lifting her off the sofa, he pulled her close to his body, her long gown swishing the books off the table, her needlepoint circle clattering to the floor. She yelped, but did not call for help. He dangled her in the air, his face centimeters from her own. The scent of her floral perfume wafted into his nostrils, giving him fleeting, nostalgic respite from the rage that poured from his soul.
Her eyes bulged in horror, tears forming in the corners. “Roann…please…”
The emperor snarled with sinister intent, narrowing his eyes as he resisted the urge to snap her neck. His voice, when it finally came, was gravelly and low.
“You dare insult the emperor? You have no idea of my power. But, your eyes are about to be opened, mother. Everyone’s eyes are.”
Eilith whimpered in her son’s mighty grip. “I don’t understand…”
“You will.” He tightened his hold on her shoulders. She cried out as his fingers dug into the satiny capped sleeves of her dress, pressing painfully into her flesh. He whirled her around like a doll, facing her toward the door of her reading room, left slightly ajar. With a deliberate nod of his head, it slammed shut and locked on its own. Eilith gasped in shock. The window drapes soon followed, falling shut with no assistance. Every oil lamp and candle in the room suddenly flared with intense light, bathing the entire chamber in a yellow glow.
Manhandling her back to face him, Roann focused his gaze directly at hers. Knowing the blackness was overtaking the emerald eyes his mother always loved, he smirked as all the color drained from the empress’ face. No longer able to control her emotions, she openly wept, sobs shaking her entire body. Roann watched silently, relieved that the plaguing pain from before had left him. Now, all he felt was raw, unadulterated power.
“I’ve been given the most incredible gift. And, dear mother, you were the one who made it happen.” Eilith’s eyes saddened she processed the information. He could pinpoint the exact moment in which she understood—her lips quivered, and her body began to shake. “Yes…it was because of you that I have limitless power. Because of you—Lyrax has returned. And now this empire belongs to us.”
“Lyrax? That’s a…fairytale.”
“Naiveté isn’t flattering on you.” He released her, and she tumbled to the floor.
“I should have never let you live…” Her expression changed from sadness to regretful anger.
“And that’s a burden you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life.”
“All these years I thought you had been cured. All these years…” Eilith stood, legs wobbling. Without warning, she raised her hand and tried to slap Roann across the cheek. With the reflexes of a saberstrike, he grabbed her wrist and twisted. Defiant, she spit in his face before unleashing a mother’s wrath. “I’ll tell the people about you. I’ll tell them the truth!”
Roann pushed her, and she tumbled backwards over an end table, knocking an oil lamp over as she fell. The carpet, now wet with fuel, caught fire. He shot the flames a stern glance, and they extinguished. Eilith scrambled away from him, backing herself up against the bookcases. She frantically searched for something to strike him with. Grabbing a crystal decanter from one of the shelves, she heaved it at her son. He simply flicked his wrist and the bottle flew off in the opposite direction, crashing against the far wall. It shattered as it impacted, spraying shards of glass and aged whiskey in all directions.
“Throwing things?” Roann shook his head sympathetically, pity in his eyes. “Telling the people won’t matter. I’m in control now.”
“You’re a worthless pawn.”
“We shall see…as you shall see.” He moved toward her, knowing she had nowhere to flee. She pressed herself into a corner, cowering like a child, hiding her face behind her hands. He towered over her. “Do you wish to see what a ‘worthless pawn’ looks like?”
He stood tall, head held high. Feeling familiar energy pulsate around him, his body began to grow, his skin changing to black scales. What had been a painful experience as a child had grown into one of the most pleasurable feelings he knew. Shifting his form was euphoric, as the raw power surged over him. Wings sprouted from his back, and his blonde hair disappeared, replaced by sharp horns.
Eilith screamed in horror, crying at the appearance of her lost child.
Flapping his leathery wings, Roann stood proud, as his mother sobbed in the corner. “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted for me? Power. Success. Respect.”
“No one will respect you, Roann.” Her tone bit through her tears.
“I thought my own mother would be more supportive…” He quickly changed back, his velvet doublet and leather pants appearing on his human body once again. Smoothing down his hair, he knelt in front of her, reaching out to caress her face. She flinched back, away from his touch. “You’ll come around. You’ll realize this is what the people need. Father was a coward, and where he failed—I will succeed. Lyrax has assured me of that.”
“I no longer have a son.” Eilith lowered her eyes sadly. “I will not allow you to sully Artol’s legacy with such filthy talk. You’ll have to kill me to keep me quiet.”
“No…you’ll remain alive. After all, it’s every mother’s wish to see their child fulfill their potential, is it not?” He waved his hand in front of his body and Eilith disappeared into a cloud of red mist.
~~~
The empress sat alone in the darkness, dust tickling her nose. She shivered, the damp, musty air surrounding her like a cocoon. Something skittered across the stone floor in the distance, causing her to jump in surprise.
She knew exactly where she was—and she was certain not a single soul would come looking for her.
No one came to the dungeons anymore. There was no need. She couldn’t think of a time in Artol’s reign where they had ever been used. Not since his father had there been a prisoner housed inside its walls. And now, here she was—a prisoner of her own son.
He would lie, of course, if anyone asked about her. On a trip, perhaps? Or fallen ill? No one would question him. She considered screaming, but soon realized that no one would hear her. The dungeons were in the bowels of the palace. True, there were some areas still used, like the fighting arena—but Eilith knew she was nowhere close to that part of the complex.
No, she was in the oubliette. A dungeon within a dungeon. Once a place of heinous torture and despair, it had laid abandoned for over a century. Hidden and scorned, this place held secrets—and she was now one of them. Down the hall, crypts filled with the bones of the less fortunate souls who met their end at the torture master’s hand silently waited for their next resident. She knew, above her in the castle proper, workers went on with their daily happenings, oblivious that their empress was incarcerated in a prison under a trap door.
Suddenly wishing for Artol’s company, she sighed and wrapped a musty burlap blanket—no doubt belonging to the last unfortunate inhabitant of her cell—around her shoulders. She winced as the rough fabric scratched her skin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
While Ealsig shows great promise with her weapon and magic skills, her temperament leaves little to be desired. I feel she may be a loose cannon, one that we may not be able to control. We will have to keep a
n eye on this one…
--Excerpt from instructor’s report on Ealsig, year unknown.
Several small children gathered around Grildi’s massive legs, mouths agape at his sheer size.
They squealed and laughed, comparing their height to his and shrieking with delight as he picked them up one-by-one and gave them the bird’s eye view from his lofty vantage point. Some admired the fur on his boots, while others tried in vain to lift his heavy club from the ground. The rest of the party sat across square of Murnal Village, chuckling at the giddy kids’ reaction to their hulking friend.
“The children have never met such a man before.” The elder offered the companions a small bowl of local nuts. “He’s so kindhearted to give them all that attention.”
Ryris smiled and palmed a handful of the snack. “He loves kids. And, as you can see, they always love him.”
“You have a wonderful friend, Mr. Bren.” The old man smiled thankfully. “You have made such a wonderful, lasting impact on our village in just a short amount of time. The children are happier than I’ve ever seen them, and your strength…” He looked to Kaia and Jaric. “…in helping right the grain-grinding stone was most appreciated. We’re honored to help you with whatever you need.”
Kaia put her hand over her heart with gratitude. “Thank you, Zorendun. We appreciate your hospitality. And, in fact, there is something I’d like to ask you.”
“Please do!” The elder smoothed his long beard with a wrinkled hand.
“We noticed the entrance to a mine in our travels, about ten miles down the road, and off the main trail. Do you know anything about it?”
“Ah, yes. Onyx Caverns. It’s abandoned; the chambers began to collapse due to over mining.” He sighed sadly. “It brought a great deal of income to the surrounding area. Many people moved away after it closed.”
“How long has it been neglected?”
“Fifty years, maybe more. You’re free to explore it, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s not owned by anyone anymore.” The old man winked knowingly. “Just be warned that it is very unstable and probably full of bugs.”
“Bugs?” Jaric’s eyes bulged.
“Oh, hush.” Kaia shot her friend a stern glance. “We’d gladly bring back any onyx we salvage for your coffers in return for your permission to explore.”
Zorendun waved his hands dismissively in front of his body. “No need, young lady. If you do find anything there, it won’t be of much value. The gem veins had been greatly depleted by the time the mine closed. All you’re liable to find in there is rusty pickaxes and creepy-crawlies. Any treasure you uncover will be rightfully yours.”
Jaric shuddered at the mention of bugs, trying to covertly hide his discomfort.
The old man glanced to the horizon. “It’s getting dark. I do hope you’re not planning to leave us tonight. I can’t offer you much in accommodations, but there’s a barn at the village edge that has a loft with plenty of dry hay. There are lanterns hanging on the wall if you need light, and a fire pit behind the building. You’re welcome to stay the night.”
Ryris shivered in the chill dusk air, hopeful that Kaia would accept the charity. The less time they didn’t have to sleep in tents, the better.
“Thank you for the offer. I think we’ll take you up on it.” Kaia knowingly eyed her companions. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had someplace indoors to lay our heads for the night.”
The elder rose, extending a hand to each member of the party. “Please feel free to take water from the well to fill your canteens and refresh your horse. My wife will be serving dinner soon, and I hope you’ll join us in our home.”
“We don’t want to be a burden.”
“Nonsense! A warm meal will do you good—and she has a pie on the hearth that I’ve been eyeing all day.”
“Pie?” Grildi approached, the children reluctantly having gone back to their homes to clean up for supper. “I like pie!”
“Good!” Zorendun smiled broadly. “It’s settled then. Make yourselves comfortable in the barn, and come for dinner in an hour.”
The old man left, tottering back to his small house. Grildi sat with a lumbering sigh and stretched his legs out toward the fire. “What’d I miss?”
“We’re spending the night, and in the morning we’ll backtrack to that mine we saw. That is, of course, if Jaric isn’t too scared.” Kaia’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Watch it, Quick…”
“Don’t be a baby.” She turned to Ryris. “What do you think? Sound like a place to hide something? A shard perhaps?”
Ryris took a moment to ponder. “Maybe? It depends on how long the mine’s been there. Zorendun did say it’s old. But…”
“But what?”
“…it sounds really dangerous. If we get caught in a collapse, we’re done for.”
“Risk is part of our everyday life, especially now.” Kaia rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I think we have to try.”
Ryris nervously scratched the back of his head. “I suppose. How about this? We go tomorrow and you get your tiara out. If it reacts—even slightly—we go in. If not, we move on.”
“Fair enough.”
Ryris nodded his acceptance of the plan. Part of him hoped there wouldn’t be any signs from Kaia’s crown—he really didn’t feel like spelunking in a dilapidated mine. But, he’d never tell her that. After a moment more of warming their hands on the crackling fire, they unhitched Ass of the East and made their way to the barn. Jaric couldn’t help but reminisce about the previous conversation.
“So Kaia, about those bugs…”
~~~
The cacophony of snores coming from the loft was enough to wake the dead.
Locked in a battle they didn’t know they were participating in, Grildi and Jaric serenaded each other—and their two companions—with thunderous noise. Having had enough, Kaia and Ryris climbed down from their perch and took refuge outside, around a small fire. Kaia poked at the logs with a hefty stick, the flames illuminating the exposed skin of her arm. A thick scar was gradually beginning to fade.
“Looks like your arm’s doing better. I can give you something to hopefully get rid of that for good.” Ryris pointed to his friend’s limb.
Kaia looked down at her battle wound. “What’s one more?”
“Suit yourself.” He dug through his knapsack, producing several ingredients and a field alchemy kit. Crumbling some dried moss into a small beaker, he added a few splashes of base fluid. Giving the liquid a stir with a thin metal spoon, the specks of moss soon disintegrated. After a moment, he squeezed a thick paste from a leather pouch into the solution, and the beaker began to glow. Kaia watched in awe as he worked. Stirring it once more, he finally set the vessel on a flat log within the fire and allowed the mixture to come to a boil. Ryris sat back and admired his handiwork.
“What did you make?”
“Antiseptic. I figured it couldn’t hurt, seeing as though we’ve been getting our fair share of battle wounds.”
“Good idea.”
They sat in silence for several moments, Ryris stirring his churning potion every few minutes. Night birds chattered high above in the treetops. When he was satisfied the tincture had cooked sufficiently, the alchemist grabbed the beaker with a towel and quickly deposited the burning-hot glass vessel in the dirt beside him. In a few hours he could store it in a bottle, ready for use to clean wounds. Turning to his companion, he noticed she was staring into the fire, lost in her daydreams. He was reluctant to interrupt her. “Kaia?”
“Hmm?” She seemed mesmerized by the flames.
“Can I ask you something? Something kind of personal?”
She looked over at him with tired eyes. “I suppose. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, though.”
“Fair enough.” Ryris scooted closer. “About what happened with Ealsig…”
Kaia sighed sadly. “She was a good friend. A true warrior.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Although disappointed, Ryris decided not to push the subject. He sat quietly, hoping he hadn’t offended her. He nervously repositioned his cooling potion. After a few minutes, she surprised him with an unexpected admission.
“I’m a soldier, Ryris. I need to keep my emotions in check. The only thing sadness brings on the battlefield is more death.” She sniffled in the waning firelight. Ryris wasn’t certain, but it sounded as if she were crying. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable by turning his head to confirm his suspicions.
“Kaia, you don’t ever have to hide anything from me. I won’t think any less of you for showing emotion. I’m not a soldier, remember?” He took a chance and reached out, grasping her hand. He half-expected her to scoff and pull it away. When she didn’t, he felt warmth creep up his arm and flow straight into his cheeks. “I think it might do you good to get this off your chest.”
Kaia squeezed his hand before pulling hers away to rest on her lap. A great, heaving breath blew from her lips. “No one deserves to die like she did. Unable to defend herself. Unable to—fight that incredible power that took her over. A soldier expects death to come valiantly on the battlefield. Not at the hands of spectral cowards.”
Ryris leaned in and put his arm around his companion in her time of need. His stomach immediately fluttered when she didn’t move away. She laid her head on his shoulder.
“She wasn’t that much younger than me, but joined at a later age. When she came into our ranks, the elder soldiers were extremely wary. No one knew much about her, other than her parents had disowned her for being a problem case. She was—very misunderstood.” Kaia paused for a moment, shifting her body on the ground. She curled up more into Ryris’ embrace. “She was passed from one mentor to the next. They were ready to relegate her to the quartermaster, and that would ensure she would never see battle. But I saw something in her…”
“You’ve got a very kind heart.”
“Perhaps.” She sighed. “We couldn’t have been more different, and we butted heads a lot in the beginning. But she had the potential to be a great warrior. Her ambition proved she was meant for something grander than sharpening swords. I volunteered to assist with her training. She needed guidance.
The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny Page 39