Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1)

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Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 6

by Jonathan Michael


  “Sure, Elder. I believe you.” He replies genuinely… I think.

  “You do? Thanks, Stone.” I don’t know for sure if he’s mocking me or truly being sincere, but I’ll accept the latter. “So upsetting. All summer long…and, yet again, it still finds a way to escape me. Well, I better go bury it so it can give its blood back to the moon.”

  “What are you talking about, Elder? Give its blood back to the moon? Azure doesn’t take back blood. It’s just going to rot, decompose, and fertilize the land.”

  “I know it doesn’t take back blood. It’s just a saying. It’s the life inside the blood Azure absorbs. It keeps the seasons circulating.”

  “Once again, what are you talking about, Elder? Susy is the creator and controller of the seasons. Everyone knows that.”

  “My grandma says all living organisms replenish Azure’s wellbeing when they die. She says it continues the circulation of the seasons and all life on the moon. Our deaths are a vital part to life on Azure.”

  “Yeah, all dead things will fertilize the plants and feed some scavengers, but the moon doesn’t absorb it. Your grandma is weird. She’s just feeding you stories.”

  “No, it’s true, it’s true. Everyone in Farrow knows this. It’s common knowledge in our town.”

  “Whatever, Elder. That’s not how the teachings of Susy tell the story.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Who really knows what’s true or false anyways? Maybe somebody does. Do you think so, Stone?”

  “Think what?”

  “Do you think there is somebody that knows what is true or false? Somebody that knows everything?”

  “Yeah, and his name is the library,” Stone replies mockingly, this time for sure.

  I dredge out a grave in the embankment when an idea occurs to me. “Stone! I just had a brilliant idea.”

  “Oh no. What is it?” he moans.

  “Being that it was just alive moments ago, maybe we can bring it back to life. Uh, I mean, maybe you can bring it back to life.”

  Stone stares at me like I’m out of my mind. “Yeah, right. I can’t revive the dead. That’s impossible. I’m a Lahyf, not some kind of divine being that chooses who lives or dies. I can only heal the damage. You know that. Plus, my talent isn’t developed enough to even mend a broken leg, let alone start an un-beating heart.”

  “It’s just a tiny frog…” I say, forcing the challenge.

  “Toad,” he corrects me.

  “Whatever. It’s just a tiny toad. We’ll never know if we don’t try, right? Do you know what kind of breakthrough this would be? It would change everything. The talent of the Lahyf would be more powerful than the Dihkai.”

  “You are a Dihkai. Why would you want that?”

  “Change. The Dihkai have been leading this realm with fear for far too long. Plus, if we do bring it back to life, it’ll prove I actually did catch it alive. Please, Stone! Just try.”

  “Alright. I guess it’s worth a try. How do you suppose we begin?”

  The realm is on the verge of chaos with no visible recovery in sight. An Immortal slaughtered an entire village. It was insufferable. The darkness was hiding just under the man’s skin and he made a conscious choice to unleash it. The shadows are growing darker.

  6 Harris

  T he thunder lanterns are dim, and the window is cracked with the window coverings drawn, letting in a warm morning breeze. I haven’t pinpointed the tree diffusing that aroma, but it is sweet and is a fine complement to the warm air. The perfect summer fragrance.

  I gather a moderate scoop from the ice pail and dump it into the empty tumbler sitting atop the dark walnut desk in front of me. I reach for the half-full decanter of well-aged scotch and fill my glass to the brim. This atmosphere is precisely what I need to contemplate how to deal with such heedless incompetence.

  I purposefully neglect to offer refreshments to the company who anticipate an explanation for being summoned to my chamber. There are two reasons: one, because I have an image to maintain and it’s not a courteous one—well mannered, but not courteous—and two, because they are undeserving of such a fine scotch. It would be a waste of a declining supply.

  Sasha dons the customary female handmaiden attire, a black, cotton dress hanging just below the knees with shoulder length sleeves and trimmed with pale-grey lace. She sits on her small wooden stool in the corner of the room, awaiting any requests I may have.

  “Sasha, dear… While it’s fresh in my mind, will you please take note that I must discover what that wonderful smell in the air is. Tomorrow.”

  Sasha nods her confirmation.

  For a girl unable to speak, she’s developed resourceful methods for communicating with me. One being a language of her own, using only her hands accompanied by a few facial expressions to exaggerate her emotion. Nodding being one of the most overlooked yet most efficient methods of communication. The other, we’re working on. It’s not an easy gift to master, but she has the talent. I am rather fond of the girl. It won’t last, though. Not with how I acquired her services.

  Ellia Rosewood, a woman of nineteen seasons with endless beauty, a scholarly mind, and fierce discipline—a rare find—stands tall in the back of the room near the closed ironwood doors. She will have to wait her turn and enjoy the show in the meantime.

  I take a sip as I wallow in my poor decision of promoting the main attraction standing next to her. A complete list of all the Dihkai living on this red moon. That is all I requested. I gave him two dozen fireteams consisting of the best of the best to disperse across all regions of Azure. But she did not make it onto the list. Four seasons I have given him. My patience is at its end. I know Serene Halliday is a Dihkai of four seasons with dark-brown eyes, and she resides in Aspen Creek with a rope swing in the tree in front of her home. I know Hunter Longmire is a Dihkai of eighty-eight seasons who’s bald with a limp and resides in Silverleaf with eight children and nineteen grandchildren. But what I do not know is where Jaymes McLarin is.

  “You know, General, I have already learned something new today, and the day remains young. Would you like to know what I learned?”

  “Uh, sir… I would like to know why I have been summoned, if you don’t mind.”

  General Greyson, my current Shadow and General of the Crimson Guard, a man of average height, build, and competency steps forward. He is the reason for our assemblage today and the primary reason I drink this morning.

  “Ah, so you care not for knowledge?” I ask. “It seems someone of your status, someone wearing that grey armored-silk tunic should understand the importance of knowledge, no? And the crimson cloak. It’s emblematic of your significance.”

  “Please, sir, what did you learn today?” he replies dutifully, tugging at the green metallic pin fastening his cloak. It’s a lone solar body embedded in a semicircle. The sigil of the Sprhowt race. The badge of the summer birthed.

  “Ah, so you care, but only because I care. That’s okay. An immature mind, or perhaps a passionless one, will do such things. I will still tell you what I learned because I am excited to share my knowledge. A shadow is not the absence of light. No. That is what darkness is. A shadow is merely lesser light in contrast to more light, and more importantly, it gives definition to our world. I had never thought of it as such before. Isn’t that an interesting concept?”

  “That is fascinating, sir,” the General replies without a smudge of interest.

  “This list is not complete,” I reply without emotion, changing the subject. “She is still alive, and she is not on this list.” I raise the parchment for him to see, drawing him in closer to his demise.

  “Who’s still alive, Your Divineness?”

  General Greyson asks as if he doesn’t know who I’m referring to. I believe it to be cowardice, but sometimes I weigh toward fucking idiot.

  “Who?” I remain calm. For now. “Use that black hole in your skull, and think about it. You know the answer to that incredulous question.”

  “Jaymes McLarin?”

>   He answers with the best of his ability to conceal his fear, but I can feel it pumping through his veins. This man is weak.

  “Congratulations, General Greyson. After several seasons of asking the same question over and over, you’ve figured out what we’re asking. Where is Jaymes McLarin?”

  It is not utter stupidity, although a simpler mind might think so. It is fear that prevents him from answering the question. He knows the primary goal of this overblown search, and he knows he does not have an answer for me. He tries to play the ignorance card, not because he believes it will fool me, but because it’s better than playing nothing at all. It’s unfortunate for him it doesn’t matter what card he plays. My mind is already set on the outcome of this meeting.

  “General…” I lean into my chair. “Of the four races, not considering the hypothetical mixed blood, which do you find the most destructive?”

  He stutters a few rambling noises.

  “It’s not a trick question. It is the Dihkai. We know this. And I take no offense to that. As with the seasons, we all have purpose. The Lahyf have the ability to regenerate life. The Sprhowt have the ability to make life flourish. And the Hiberneyt have the ability to render us all dormant. Not one of these is a destructive force. Not like the Dihkai and their ability to decay any lifeform they touch.” I pause to let it sink in. “With training, of course. All talent will go unnoticed without training.”

  The General nods and remains attentive with a tension in his stance.

  “And this is where she differs. As you know, General, Jaymes McLarin is not only a threat to the rest of society due to her unnatural talent in the Nox Sciences, but she also killed her parents. She is an untrained destructive force and a fugitive. We must find her. Tell me, General Greyson, where have you searched thus far?”

  “All populaces down to the smallest of townships, as well as all of the remote plantations spread across the open plains of Vedora. If there is a building standing, then we know who or what lives in it, Your Divineness.”

  “And what if she lives in a hole in the ground or in a tree in the forest? Do you know the meaning of moron? It is a person who is notably stupid or lacking good judgment, a person of borderline intelligence and classified as mentally retarded. General Greyson, there are days I believe you fall into that classification. Have you searched the uninhabitable regions?”

  “No, Your Divineness, we have not.” His cowardice shines brightly.

  “Of course not. Why would you search all of Azure as I initially instructed? That, however, is not why I summoned you to my chambers. Although your incompetence is utterly infuriating, only I am to blame for allowing such incompetence to be associated with me. No. That is not why—”

  “Then, why, sir?” the General interrupts.

  I remain silent, refusing to answer his question after being interrupted. Instead, I stare at him.

  “Your Divineness?”

  “Incompetent and lacking manners,” I respond when realizing he’s too dull for a silent lecture. “You are here because of your inability to remain loyal, General. You are supposed to be my General, yet here you are, under my own roof, spying on my every action.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” he asks with false astonishment.

  He is a fool. Best to be honest at this point. For the sake of self-dignity and honor. Not that a treasonous snitch has any honor, but he only makes it worse for himself.

  I lean into my desk, placing my elbows on it and coupling my fingers together. “General, you were once an admirable man. A man of honor. A value you regarded highly and protected. What do you think your family would do if they knew?” I ask. I know his family is a sensitive subject for him, and discussing it will reveal his motive quicker. I would like to be done with this.

  “My wife…she’s been dead for several seasons…” His voice trails off as he lowers his eyes. Shame.

  “Indeed, she has. And your son…where is he?”

  The General’s eyes snap back up to meet mine. Fear. “You wouldn’t…”

  “If I knew where he was…” I offer a subtle nodding confirmation. “…I would. If you hold onto your dignity with honesty…I will spare him.”

  “My wife…she would have understood.” Acceptance. “She was loyal to me. I made a choice I believed to be true. A choice I still believe in. And she would have supported me to the end. My son…he knows. And he has fled for fear he would be forced to follow my footsteps. I tried to prove to him the value of my choice. I tried to show him the world beyond what you allow us to see. But he wanted no part in the sacrifices required. He wanted no part in my decision. He’s innocent.”

  “Yes. I know. He made the right choice in disappearing. I wouldn’t want to be associated with you either.”

  “Then why have you banished him?” General Greyson shouts. “He was only a boy, and you chased him away. I don’t even know if he still lives. And you have done this! You have done this to me!”

  “General, don’t blame me for your actions. You admitted it was a choice. A treasonous choice.” My voice remains relaxed to relieve some of the tension in the room. “He fled on his own free will. And he fled because of you. I had no part in that. Come closer, General.” I walk around to the other side of my desk and sit on the edge of it, hoping my informal posture will allow him to feel more at ease.

  General Greyson walks closer with hesitance in his step. He fears me, as he should. That’s good, but it’s too late. This fool has failed me for the last time. Or rather, I have failed him for the last time.

  “Closer.” I rise to my feet as he approaches. As soon as he’s within reach, I grab him by the throat with my left hand, leaving my right free in case his resistance is too much. But his strength fades immediately as I suppress him with a simple touch. He gives no struggle. How weak he is. “Unfortunately, General, a Shadow is only defined by its source of light. And with your actions, I’m feeling rather dim right now. Unlike you, however, I will learn from my mistakes. I will shine brighter for the next Shadow. You have officially been charged with treason for conspiring against Parliament.” I grip his neck tighter and watch as his eyes bulge. “Unofficially, you have put everything I have worked so hard to fortify at risk. Knowledge is precious. And you’re not worthy of it. But you already know too much. The only acceptable consequence is death.”

  The dead cells spread over his body like a flesh-eating disease. The black rot envelops his face first, then his arms, then all of his visible flesh. It soon fades from black to a grayish-brown color. His body decays from the inside out. The smell is revolting but something I’ve become accustom to over the seasons. It reeks of a dead carcass yet has the bittersweet smell of rich soil. Something I despise and something I cherish.

  His body falls to the ground as I let go. His bones have degenerated into a soft cartilage and are unable to keep him upright. His limbs separate from his abdomen with the impact of the fall—his flesh lacking any remaining strength and elasticity. His entrails spill out onto the floor, and all that remains is a pile of rotten mush and a few fragments of bone.

  “Ahh.” I slump onto the edge of the desk feeling a bit nauseous and dizzy. The energy involved with taking a man’s life is significant compared to most other uses of the talents. Many Dihkai aren’t even capable of stopping the heart, let alone turning a body into a pile of gruel, but that is primarily due to their lack of knowledge and focus, not because their bodies cannot physically handle it. It would take them longer to recover from the aftermath, but they’re all capable. She is capable.

  “Sasha.” She perks up in her corner, pretending to be oblivious to the murder she witnessed. Mute she may be, but she does a fine job of pretending to be deaf and blind as well. The perfect handmaid. “Please, fetch the supplies to clean this up. Quickly.” She scampers through the oversized ironwood doors and into the hall.

  “Ellia Rosewood,” I quietly announce. She tightens her stance and doesn’t make direct eye contact but, instead, stares straight forward in
a disciplined manner. She wears a modified Academy uniform. Not something I approve of, but technically not disgracing any of the rules. It is a mix between the Crimson Guard’s armored-silk cross-sash and the Academy’s more conservative greaves. The deep red cross-sash wraps tight around her chest, more than usual for any male or female, which reveals most of her flesh. The silk greaves are in line with her top, showing all the curves of her figure. Ellia complements it with a cloak of the same material. Not an ordinary cloak, though. Nothing ordinary for this woman. She has cut the fabric into fine strips, which I can only assume is to assist in her elusiveness on her evening extracurriculars. It would help obscure her character if she were to be seen.

  And then there is her patch. More of a band, really. She conceals her right eye, and today it matches the evening red of her uniform. It serves no real purpose other than offering ambiguity. It’s more of an offensive strategy for her, masking her dominant skill set. And somehow the patch plays toward her provocativeness. She wears it well.

  “Yes, Your Divineness?” She speaks confidently.

  “As you are well aware, I have had a keen watch on your training at the Academy, and I admire how much you’ve grown over the seasons. I remember when you were nothing but innocence. A toddler with only the desire to please your immediate emotions, but you have come such a long way and have learned to control those emotions in a way most others are incapable of. You are respected. You are envied. You are reserved with logical decisions. And you will be able to lead your peers to success with ease one day. Except…” I take a moment to massage my brow as I recover from exploiting the rot. “…now it’s time to strip you of those peers. Now is the time for you to weigh a heavy decision. I know you are capable of exceeding my expectations.”

  “Thank you, Your Divineness.”

  “Please, call me Harris, or Taoiseach, or something other than ‘Your Divineness’. That title insinuates a tyrant and should be reserved for the weak citizens of this world who have imagined me a monstrosity. General Greyson was nothing more than that, which is why he was not awarded such privileges. He didn’t understand the depths of where his choices were leading him. Where they would have led our entire culture. You, on the other hand, will prove your worth immediately. I have no doubt of that. Ellia Rosewood, you are my new Shadow. You will do my bidding and no others. You answer only to me.” I open my arms with a welcoming gesture. “The choice is yours, of course.” The alternative choice being death.

 

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