"Let's hope it continues."
Let's hope those ridiculous assassins know what they're doing, she thought, but dismissed it when the sound of approaching feet caught her attention.
A Hiwan soldier entered the room from a side door, his face flushed as if he'd been running. His head darted from side to side, scanning, until Yuna lifted a beckoning arm.
"Over here, young soldier. Do you need something?"
Encouraged by her friendly tone, he rushed toward them. A few paces away, he stopped, head bowed.
"Nishu Yuna and Saten Azuma, I have been sent with news. A group of Hiwan soldiers have captured and imprisoned the fugitive Nobu Ameya."
"Really?" Yuna asked.
"He awaits you in the dungeon. He attempted to escape through the countryside last night. Fortunately, the patrols interrupted his path after tracking him. He struggled, but has been subdued."
"Wonderful news indeed. Thank you, soldier. We will visit him a little bit later."
With one last bow, the man backed up and left.
Once he left, Yuna cast a long glance at Azuma.
He grinned in response.
Late afternoon sunshine stretched across the gravel path as Yuna and Azuma walked through the small park toward the Imperial Mortuary Chamber. The building, built of marble, vaulted high overhead in a domed ceiling that sparkled with the dust of ground-up diamonds. Dappled sunlight came through the glass, sending a glow onto the sacred grounds.
Azuma slipped inside first, his breath catching at the sight of Danjuro and his wife on marble tables off to the right, gauzy black veils draped over their bodies. New clothes, garnished with jewels and golden sashes, adorned their bodies.
To the left lay Saemon on another cold slab of marble, blood still marring his skin and clothes. His body was still awaiting the Imperial funeral rites.
Yuna trailed in behind Azuma, her gaze reflecting boredom.
Next to Saemon lay a smaller, more lithe body. A young man with thick hair just like Prince Isao's, but with a face that had been smashed in by something heavy during the skirmish, completely eradicating the features. This body had been prepared for burial. It was draped in elegant clothes of the softest velvet decked with the Hiwan symbol across the chest.
Yuna strode across the mausoleum, gazing on the face of Saemon’s murdered servant. She studied the broken features, the swelling in the now grotesque face.
“A fitting death mask for a Hiwan clan member,” she snarled under her breath.
This body would do, she thought. The man’s resemblance to Isao was strong enough that people would believe it was him.
A slight movement caught Yuna's ear. She whirled around to find Ren sitting on a bench next to Danjuro and her mother. Ren sniffled, long, sparkling trails of tears trickling down her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe these away.
Yuna slipped to her side. Ren jumped when she sat down next to her.
"Yuna," Ren murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."
"Don't apologize, dear sister. You are distracted by grief, as are so many. It has been a very bloody, difficult time. Our parents look so peaceful, don't they?"
For a moment, they gazed on the draped bodies, so artfully arranged in a peaceful slumber.
"Yes," Ren whispered. Tear welled up in her eyes again. She glanced briefly over at the mangled corpse meant to be her new husband, then away.
Yuna reached over, holding Ren's hand, and wondered if she really mourned him. "I'm so sorry that you lost everything, Ren. But you're strong. You can conquer this."
"Thank you, Yuna."
Azuma met Yuna's gaze over the top of Ren's head. He canted his head to the side. Yuna nodded softly.
"Ren, darling, Azuma and I have a few things we need to plan around our parents’ funerals. We need to decide and what to do with their bodies as we are so far from home. We'll be just outside if you need us. Just call. All right?"
Ren nodded wordlessly, and Yuna tucked a piece of hair behind Ren's ear.
"Take your time here, Ren. We're in no hurry."
Azuma and Yuna stepped back outside into the warm sunshine, and crossed the grass several paces. Once out of the marble chamber, Azuma relaxed.
"I don't want them buried here," he said.
"I agree. Father wouldn't want to be buried anywhere near the Emperor, and the Hiwan clan cannot honor them the way we can at home. This place is filthy, really."
"Then it's agreed. We take them back to Nagon and honor them with a procession."
"And leave them in the burial place of all our previous rulers."
Azuma's shoulders slumped. "Yes. They deserve that honor at least, if not more. They were greater than all the rest."
Yuna glanced back, over her shoulder, to see Ren through a window decorated by wrought iron curls. Her head was down, her hair spilling in long waves on her slender shoulders.
"We need to address the city of An Wan as well," Yuna said, her mind swirling with her thoughts. "Establish ourselves as the temporary rulers during this chaos while Ren pulls her life back together and the world mourns. The common people must know that Ameyas are the enemy, or all of this may fail. We need to declare the deaths of the Chancellor Najeem, Prince Isao, and Emperor Saemon. Some of them may not know."
"Yes, they are rustic bumpkins. They don't know anything, do they?"
"They will expect a celebration, for sure. On that note, we also need to announce Ren as the Princess and Ruler of the Marugan Empire. So much to do," she said, tsking. "We cannot miss a single step."
Azuma sneered. "Yes, we must not forget about vaulting Ren to the blessed position."
Yuna ignored him, staring instead at the emerald-robed figure striding down the gravel path, her mind full with thoughts of all they had to do.
"Bramen," Yuna finally said, inclining her head as the Chancellor got close. "We were just discussing the removal of our parents bodies so we could bear them back to Nagon. They would want to settle permanently in their home, I believe. Anpu will mourn them properly."
"I agree."
"And an excellent decision on the servant boy, Chancellor," Azuma murmured, his eyes alight. "I'm jealous I didn't think of it myself. No one will know that he isn't the prince, which makes his inevitable demise all the more beautiful."
"You had other reasons to be distracted, Saten Azuma. I am merely here to serve. Have you decided yet who will give the speech to An Wan? That must happen soon."
"Not yet," Yuna murmured.
"We'll have to introduce Ren as the new leader very carefully. She must have a full and proper coronation. She will need to present her best front. We need her to at least appear strong, or panic will ensue. It will be difficult for the Hiwan to have lost all their leadership and be forced to accept an outsider."
"She needs time," Yuna said.
"She can have some," Bramen said. "But not too much. And there is one other issue that has come up."
"Oh?" Yuna asked. "What's that?"
Bramen frowned, his forehead furrowing into deep lines. He glanced at the Mortuary Chamber and turned his back to it slightly, shuffling a few steps away. Yuna and Azuma followed.
"Several Hiwan soldiers have left the Army this morning; they don't want to serve another clan. Shall we be rid of them? Are they defectors that need to be punished? I am eager to avoid future problems."
"No," Yuna said. "Let's not make things more difficult for ourselves. If we appear to have a compassionate front, allowing those to leave who want to, we'll ingratiate ourselves with greater power. Besides, a smaller Hiwan army will not harm Nari purposes."
Bramen's eyes twinkled. "Wisely spoken, Yuna, as usual. Then we shall let them go."
Azuma drew in a deep breath. "So it is settled then. Our parents will be buried at home, we will announce the deaths of the Hiwan scum, and we'll plan Ren's coronation."
"Indeed," Bramen drawled supportively.
"In the meantime," Azuma said, glancing at his sister, "Yuna has a prison
er to speak with."
Torchlight flickered in the passages to the imperial dungeon, casting shadows on the walls.
Two Nari guards descended the stairs with Yuna, flanking her on either side as they proceeded into the palace’s belly. Once they all reached the bottommost floor, a pungent smell drifted in the air, one like moldering hay and piss. Yuna instinctively recoiled, then continued on to the single, occupied cell.
A desperate man with deep-set eyes and a swollen lip sat on a rickety stool, hovering just out of sight in the shadows of his cell. She studied him as she silently closed the gap between them, drawing his attention only moments before she arrived.
He leapt off the stool with a growl, throwing himself against the bars. They rattled on their old hinges. He spit at her, but Yuna deftly dodged the foul spittle.
The Nari guards shoved their spears through the door, snarling. The prisoner backed away, hands up, and bared his teeth.
"Greetings, Nobu," she murmured, "you heartless traitor."
"You!" he screamed, pointing at her. "You're the traitor. I know the Nari clan is behind all of this, you whore. You killed my father. You killed the Emperor. I never trusted you!"
Yuna grinned. "What are you going to do about it now? No one is going to believe you. They're too busy mourning our dear Emperor, whom your people killed. It helps that your father is dead too, doesn't it?"
He screamed in agony and rage, the veins in his neck popping out.
Yuna rolled her eyes. "Control yourself, you fool. You're the greatest traitor here. Don't you see?"
She extracted a knife from a sheath in her belt, holding it up for his perusal. His eyes widened as he recognized the blade.
"What are you doing with that?" he whispered.
"Oh yes, you do recognize it. How lovely. I found it in my father's chest, naturally. You should know; you're the one who put it there. No one is doubting it now, what with the Ameyas betraying the Empire, and all that. Terrible, isn't it?"
"I lost that knife. I didn't use it to kill anyone."
She tsked. "Didn’t you now?"
"I didn't kill anyone!"
"You can scream all you want; no one will hear and no one will care."
She leaned forward, her face mere inches away from the cold metal bars. He reared back, but didn't look away, his eyes locking with her intense, nearly animal-like stare.
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
"You have betrayed everyone, and so must die," she cooed. "In one of the worst possible ways. Slowly. Without light. Without fresh air, sunshine, or hope. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Like the maggot you are."
He blinked, as if coming out of a trance. His nostrils flared.
"You," he whispered. "You were the hooded figure in my father's room. You got my knife then. You stole it. YOU killed your own parents!"
Yuna snorted. "You're a fool, Ameya, if you believe that. I adored my parents. Why would I kill them? Continue with your mad ravings if you must, but know that it will get you nowhere. You have committed the ultimate treachery, the ultimate sin."
"I am innocent!"
She stepped back. "So says everyone who lives in Iskawan, don't they?"
The blood drained from his face. He rushed up to the bars of the cell, gripping them with blanched knuckles. "Iskawan? You cannot do that to a noble member of a clan. You don't have that power!"
"Oh," she murmured, "but I can," before slipping back down the hall.
Nobu shrieked after her, "You cannot do this!"
She stopped at the first step of the staircase to glance back and meet his terrified gaze. She grinned, feeling a delicious surge of power all through her bones. "Enjoy your stay in Iskawan, you traitor."
Her robes fluttered behind her as she turned and moved up the stairs. The torchlight cast a shadow as she passed, a little flutter of spectral shadow following in her wake.
Celty
One of the cannibals pushed Celty, then Isao and Khalem, forward into the yawning mouth of the cave.
The air within smelled brackish. It surrounded the captives in a chilly embrace as water dripped down the dark walls. The light from the outside dissipated the further in they went, as the tribe of cannibals clicked and talked around them.
Just when Celty thought the tunnel would narrow into an impassable passage – likely funneling them right to a massive rotating spit and a cauldron of boiling death – the cannibals stopped them with a rough clasp on their shoulders.
Celty blinked, disoriented. A massive fire as tall and wide as a horse roared in the middle of an enormous room. The cavern here soared at least ten paces overhead, with rock deposits hanging from the ceiling of the cave and dripping water onto them. Brightly colored depictions of faces – similar in appearance to those on the obscene-looking masks the cannibals wore – decorated the walls.
Nestled in the stone were several buildings carved into the walls with windows, jagged doorways, and strange paintings on the outside. What appeared to be skins and furs stretched over windows and walls, forming tents along the outside of several houses.
A shudder went down Celty’s spine. She glanced at her captors – and hoped those weren't human skins she saw.
The tribe that brought them here split into two groups. All the broad-shouldered, towering cannibals moved off to the left, shuffling onto a path that became a thin trail. The remaining cannibals – slender enough to seem like they might be females beneath those terrifying masks – marched Celty, Isao and Khalem off to the right. They moved in silence, only the distant trickle of water and small rocks falling breaking the quiet.
A few minutes later, Celty recoiled instinctively as bright rays of sunshine streamed in through holes. A few steps more, and the group stepped into another open space.
Steep walls made of a sheer rock shot up until they abruptly ended, leaving a wide hole across the top of the space – the only escape route Celty had seen since she had entered the cave.
She swallowed back a scream. There would be no climbing out of this place unless she could kill her guards and run all the way back through the dark, complicated maze. Unlikely.
The cannibals shoved her farther into the space. She stumbled, caught herself, and scowled. A wooden cage sat in the middle of the space. Old hay filled the floor, limp and moldering from age. Pieces of wood, both fresh and charred, littered the ground around it in a semicircle. Dried leaves were scattered across the stone floor.
A rise of hot bile filled the back of Celty’s throat as she watched a leaf blow across the ground – and land in an empty skull.
Skulls set on top of stakes stood on the floor at random intervals. Dried blood stained an empty eye socket on the one closest to Celty. A path of skulls lead to a tall drum with skin – again, Celty hoped it was an animal’s – stretched over its top. Smaller drums lay on the floor around it.
Behind her, Isao sucked in a sharp breath. Celty ignored him, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, her heart beating fast and hard in her chest.
The cannibal holding her wrists yelled something, then thrust her forward, pushing her toward the cage. Celty pushed back, leaning against the cannibal, determined not to be forced in. Would she ever come out of it if she was?
But now a few grabbed her by both arms and pitched her inside. She fell to her knees, then her side, into the disgusting hay. Out of the corner of her eye she saw them feeling Isao and Khalem for weapons before discarding tossing their swords on the ground next to a velvety bag, a black hat with a speckled gray feather, and a mandolin.
Isao and Khalem were shoved inside moments later, their hands still tied, just like hers. She rolled out of their way of their falling bodies just in time. The tribesmen slammed the door to the cage shut. Celty struggled to her feet, glaring at the assembled tribesmen leering at them through grotesque masks.
"Swine," she spat. "Filthy, heathen pigs that feast on the flesh of humans. You pieces of – "
"Silence," Khalem barked in a
sharp tone.
Several men advanced, armed with long staffs with sharp rocks at the end. They stood close outside of the cage, growling at Celty from deep within their throats, the sounds emanating forth alternating between clicking and strange, foreign words. They waved their spears, and bared their teeth at her.
Celty growled back. "They're slime," she hissed. "Foul humans – "
"Silence!" Khalem warned. "They don't want you to talk; can't you tell? Keep talking and they'll kill you."
The sight of the cannibals poking their spears through the bars made her believe Khalem’s words. Doing something hotheaded and getting them killed now wouldn't serve anything.
She sank back, glowering, although she kicked at the bars for good measure and muttered under her breath, "Foul excuses for humans."
Khalem cast her a heated glare, but the tribesmen backed off. Celty forced her rage to cool.
Freedom had been so close. The moment she had it, it was snatched away. She kept moving from one disaster to the next. Stupid bars.
The tribesman backed away, but glowered at them menacingly from where they stood at the face of the sheer rock. Celty analyzed the area again, but saw nothing new. Nothing to bring her any hope of escape.
A long silence ensued. She sighed and leaned against the wall of the cage.
The sound of shuffling floated over to Celty’s ears, and she glanced up, straightening, as two more tribal men stepped into view from the shadows.
"Oy! You brought me neighbors," called a jovial voice.
Another person was being held prisoner between the two guards.
One of the tribesman rapped the captive on the back of his head, knocking him forward in the direction of the cage. He grinned insolently, but fell silent.
Like theirs, the new prisoner's wrists were tied together with thin rope made of twine. The man couldn't be older than forty years old, and was of normal height. Dirty blond hair was half-braided against the right side of his head, while a long drape of filthy hair fell over his left eye. Strands from a straggly goatee trailed down his chin, drawing attention to the scarred skin running along the right side of his neck, hand, and shoulder.
Faces of Betrayal Page 23