Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Callis jumped to his feet, his dark eyes ablaze. “As I told you before, Aridor, I did not agree to attend this summit to stand trial for your baseless accusations!”

  “I am not accusing you of anything, Callis,” Aridor snapped, “but the facts of the matter are clear: this threat to all of Elystra originated within your borders. If you really were ignorant of all that was going on within the ranks of your militia, I would think you'd be the first to volunteer your country's resources to help vanquish him. Instead, you've been evasive, antagonistic, and disdainful to those who are supposed to be your allies. So I ask you again: was it mere ignorance on your part that caused this fiasco in the first place?”

  Callis resumed his seat, but his haughty scowl remained. “Elzor is—was one of my finest captains,” he said. “His tactical skills and fighting prowess made him a favorite among my generals. The first time we met, he swore undying loyalty to me. I saw no deception in the man. I even offered him the chance to be captain of my Black Guard, but he convinced me the militia was where he should be.”

  “And now we know why.” Largo said, earning a glare from Callis. “Obviously, Elzor's powers of deception are greater even than his tactical skills.”

  “Yes,” Callis grumbled. “By the time I got wind of his treachery, it was too late. I sent a squadron of my Black Guard to arrest him, but they were slaughtered by Elzor's followers, whose numbers were far greater than I had been led to believe. By the time I'd amassed what was left of those soldiers still loyal to me, Elzor had fled the country with the rest of his rabble.”

  “And they went straight to Agrus,” Zendak said, rising so fast he toppled his chair. “That monster and his sister decimated my country's army. They slaughtered every member of my family. Thousands of Agrusians, dead!” He slammed his fists down on the table. “All because you were too blind to see what was going on right under your nose!”

  As one, all the royals present jumped to their feet, bellowing in ire at Callis, who glared at Zendak as if such a look would send the man straight to the Fire Realms.

  “Enough!” Aridor thundered, unsheathing his sword and bringing the flat of the blade down hard on the table. Everyone fell quiet.

  Leaping on the moment of tense silence, Aridor turned to Zendak. “Prince Zendak, I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say that we mourn the loss of your family and your army. I assure you, the subject of reparations will be discussed in the near future. But if we do not unite and deal with Elzor right now, our reigns will all come to an ignominious end. Would you not agree?”

  Zendak, face still flushed with anger, continued to glower at Callis for several moments before righting his chair and sitting down. “I would.”

  “Callis?”

  Callis, too, sat. “You speak of 'dealing with Elzor', Aridor. I, more than anyone here, want Elzor to pay for his crimes. But how do you propose we do that? We can combine forces, yes, but then what? I have it on good authority that he has left Agrus and is making his way across the Praskian Desert. Are you suggesting we scour every square mile of that wasteland for him and his army? That would be foolhardy at best. Perhaps you should have your High Mage use his gift of foresight to discover Elzor's current whereabouts,” he said in a voice that dripped with sarcasm.

  “How dare you disparage the High Mage?” came a deep, rumbling voice to Aridor's right. A man in a brown jerkin with a ruddy face and a long black beard had joined the fray, pointing a sharp finger in Callis's direction. “He is Arantha's messenger, and has done more for the people of Elystra than you'll ever know!”

  Callis waved the man's outburst away as if swatting at an insect. “Why is he even here, Aridor? Rhys is no more a sovereign country than Torvin is a king. What does your puppet bring to this gathering, anyway?”

  “Curb your tongue, Callis,” Aridor snarled. “Rhys has been the suzerain of Darad for over a century, as well as its staunchest ally. Whatever disasters affect us affect them.”

  Callis lapsed into silence, leaning back in his chair with another dismissive sneer.

  Aridor beckoned to a guard near one of the inner doors. “Bring in the High Mage.” The guard bowed and disappeared through the door. Moments later, Mizar emerged, his hands folded into his sleeves as he walked to the empty space at the center of the room. There he stood, his face implacable, keeping his eyes focused on Callis.

  “Let's not fool ourselves, gentlemen,” Aridor said evenly. “A war between us and Elzor is inevitable. It is a war I do not intend to go into blindly. If any good news can be derived from this abysmal twist of fate, it is this: thanks to the High Mage's resourcefulness, we know exactly what Elzor's final objective is. We know what he's after, and where he's heading as we speak.”

  Callis was the only one apparently unimpressed by this pronouncement. “Do tell.”

  “Mizar, if you would?” Aridor said.

  Mizar bowed to his king, then began to speak, turning in a slow circle to face each sovereign in turn. “Nearly a century ago, the third High Mage of Darad, Merdeen the Sage, chronicled several disturbing visions in a series of bound volumes. At the time, his prognostications were written off as the ravings of a man nearing the end of his life. It would seem the only person who shared his concerns was a Barjan scholar named Miro.” He paused. “Viceroy, is this man's name familiar to you?”

  “It is,” Callis said. “He was, at the time, one of Barju's most respected citizens. He personally educated the royal family for decades until his death. However, my father deemed his teachings to be archaic and subversive. He gathered all of Miro's writings and locked them away. Miro's name hasn't been spoken since.”

  “Be that as it may, Viceroy, I was able to learn much from their correspondence, as well as Merdeen's final prophecies. To put it simply: he foresaw Elzor's rise, as well as what will happen if his lust for power is allowed to go unchecked.”

  “What?” Largo interjected. “What did he see?”

  Mizar turned to face him. “He saw the same thing that I myself have recently been shown by the divine god. I saw whole villages ablaze, the corpses of men, women and children littering the ground, their bodies burned beyond recognition.”

  “Elzaria.” Zendak spat the name as if it were the foulest curse he could think of.

  “Yes,” Mizar said, his eyes sympathetic. “Tell me, Your Highness, what do you know about the Agrusian Stone?”

  Zendak's eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it is the reason Elzor invaded Agrus,” Aridor said, stepping out from behind his table and joining Mizar in the middle of the room. “It is the reason he marches his army across the desert. Answer the question.”

  The scarred prince closed his eyes and lowered his head. His next words were barely audible. “It is a legend. A Stone of great power unearthed a thousand years ago. All I know beyond that is what my uncle told me and my cousins, right before we were sworn to secrecy.”

  “All of Elystra is at stake, Prince,” Aridor said. “The time for such secrets is past.”

  Zendak nodded. “Keep in mind, this legend predates Agrus's recorded history, so there's no way to know how much of it is truth and how much is fiction. All I can tell you is what was told to me.” He exhaled. “Legend says this Stone imbued several women with ungodly power. My ancestors condemned these women to death as fire-demons and sorceresses, along with their families. Eight centuries ago, King Beregin oversaw the construction of Castle Tynal, our seat of power. He ordered the Stone to be locked in an impregnable vault deep underground.

  “However, before the Stone could be sealed in this vault, the castle was raided by Vandan slavers. Many were killed, but those that survived made off with the Stone. No trace of them, or the Stone, has been found since.”

  “Outrageous!” Callis shouted, leaping to his feet. “Are you telling us that for eight hundred years, Agrus has lied to the rest of Elystra about the whereabouts of this Stone?”

  “King Morix never believed the Stone truly existe
d,” Zendak said. “The same goes for most of my countrymen. Maintaining a lie is easy when no one believes it in the first place.”

  “Well, it would seem that your country paid the ultimate price for that lie,” Callis seethed.

  Zendak's fists clenched, but he didn't respond.

  “So now this Stone that Elzor seeks is in Vanda,” Callis continued.

  “No,” Mizar said. “It is not.”

  “Well, where is it, then?” Largo asked.

  “Before I reveal its location, I must tell you of another vision I have had, repeatedly, since Elzor's quest began. I saw, clear as I see all of you now, a darkened battlefield, where two great armies are locked in combat. At the heart of this conflict are three Wielders. Three female Wielders.”

  All sound within the room ceased. Aridor took in every stupefied face, every dropped jaw. Torvin, Largo, Zendak, even Warran had been rendered mute.

  Callis was the first to react. “I don't know what game you're playing, Aridor, but I will not stand here and be made a fool of. Your magician spouts these ridiculous fantasies in Arantha's name, but I see through your deception.”

  “It is no deception!” Aridor boomed, pointing a reproachful finger at him. “Now sit down, Viceroy, and do not speak again until the High Mage is finished!”

  Callis sat down again, making a face like a scolded child.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Mizar said to Aridor, who also resumed his seat. “Your Majesties, the legend of the Agrusian Stone is true. From the time of its discovery, it has turned women within its proximity into Wielders. And it has been doing so ever since.”

  “How can this be?” Torvin said. “How could female Wielders have existed all this time without our knowledge?”

  “Because the women empowered by the Stone have chosen to keep their existence a secret. They built a home for themselves, far, far away from all of our borders. And there they have remained to this day.”

  “How do you know all this?” Largo asked. “Did Arantha show you?”

  Mizar shook his head. “No, Your Highness. I have had the great fortune to meet one of these women. In fact, she's awaiting an audience with this assembly at this very moment. The story she has to tell you, while unbelievable, will answer every question you have.”

  * * *

  Rather than guide Vaxi to the center of the room, he instructed her to stand directly in front of Aridor's table. He could see the tension in the young huntress's shoulders, indeed, her entire body, as she addressed the men who would hold her tribe's fate in their hands.

  Callis raised yet another objection as she entered, but vicious glares from both Aridor and Largo quieted him. Aridor gave a silent prayer to Arantha that chaos would not win the day once Vaxi's story was completed.

  “M-my name is Vaxi,” she said, placing a hand on the table behind her. “I am a huntress of the Ixtrayu. I come to you today as an emissary for my people. I come to beg for your support, and for your forgiveness.”

  Largo and Torvin leaned forward in rapt attention. So did Warran. Callis's moue had morphed into a blank stare.

  Her voice quiet and shaky at first, Vaxi laid bare, in front of every crowned head of Elystra, their world's greatest secret. She spoke of her ancestors, freed slaves who chose to form their own society rather than be subjugated by men. She spoke of the Stone, and the generations of Protectresses, who had channeled Arantha's will to keep themselves hidden, and safe.

  Then she spoke of the Sojourns. Aridor watched as Callis's eyes widened, then narrowed. When Elzaria's origins finally came to light, Callis's thin veneer of self-control disintegrated.

  In a blur of motion, Callis upended the heavy table he sat behind, throwing it several yards as it clattered across the stone floor, cracking and splintering in several places. Everyone stood aghast, held captive by the sudden, violent display.

  “You blagging witch!!” Callis screamed, stepping menacingly toward Vaxi. “You're to blame for all this! You have brought destruction down upon all of us, and now I'll do the same to you!”

  He broke into a sprint, pulling a ceremonial, bejeweled knife from his belt. He raised it high, ready to plunge it into Vaxi's heart.

  Vaxi stood her ground, raising her hands in a defensive gesture. Her eyes darted left and right as if seeking an escape route, but the enraged Viceroy would be upon her within moments.

  “Guards, stop him!” Aridor shouted, but the nearest guards were too far away. They wouldn't reach Callis before he murdered the young Ixtrayu.

  Moving faster than Aridor thought his son could move, Warran threw himself at the enraged Viceroy, slamming into his side. They hit the stone floor together, Callis' knife skittering against the far wall, out of reach.

  With a gauntleted hand, Callis swung his fist at Warran's face, connecting sharply with his chin. Warran's head snapped back, and he loosened his grip. With a burst of strength, Callis pushed Warran off himself. He was using his legs to scramble to his feet when a blade pressed against his throat. He turned to see a scowling Vaxi, seething with rage as she held a razor-sharp knife against his neck.

  “Aridor!” Callis choked. “Order your guards to kill this whore, now!!”

  King Aridor walked over to where Callis's prostrate form lay, sneering down at him. “I will do no such thing.”

  “I'm warning you, Aridor, if you—” His words became strangulated as Vaxi dug the blade even further into his throat.

  “Guards, pick the Viceroy up,” Aridor instructed. Two massive, sword-carrying guards stomped forward, their armor clinking with every step. “Vaxi, let him go.”

  She met his gaze. He saw rage, confusion, and terror roll through her eyes.

  Great Arantha, she's young.

  From the moment Mizar had told him the complete story: Merdeen's prophecies, the Ixtrayu, the Agrusian Stone—it all made sense. He'd been loath to believe in the existence of even one female Wielder, let alone a whole tribe of them, but he could not ignore the evidence before him. If his grandfather, Sardor, had only listened to Merdeen instead of locking him away, maybe this all could have been avoided.

  War was coming. It was inevitable. If they engaged Elzor's forces, thousands would die, probably at Elzaria's hands. Mizar would be a key component of that war, but the High Mage could not travel beyond the borders of Darad without losing his Wielding abilities. And they could not simply wait for the enemy to come to them.

  They needed an ally. An ally with more power than Elzaria.

  The Ixtrayu.

  Callis would never accept this arrangement. That had been easy to predict.

  Aridor had heard the rumors of Barjan children being enslaved and sent to work themselves to death in the machinite mines, and he'd turned a blind eye to it. He'd refused to see Callis for the monster he was, a man who stood tall on the broken backs of his people. No wonder his militia had revolted against him.

  His instincts about the Viceroy had been confirmed, as far as he was concerned. The man was paranoid, power-hungry, and reactionary, and he'd been holding the treaty to provide the countries of Elystra with machinite ore over their heads for far too long.

  No longer.

  Vaxi gingerly eased the knife blade away from the supine Viceroy's throat, continuing to point it at him as he scuttled away from her. The two guards hauled him to his feet, where he wobbled on shaky legs.

  “What are you doing, you fool?” Callis croaked, clutching at his neck. “Can't you see she's to blame for all of this?”

  “There's plenty of blame to go around, Viceroy,” Aridor spat. “And yes, I am a fool for not seeing you as you truly are until now.”

  Callis struggled against the grip of the soldiers who held him, but to no avail. “One more word, Aridor, and our alliance is over.”

  Aridor brought his face right up against the Viceroy's. “Alliances are based on trust, Callis. You have exhausted every last drop of mine. Leave my castle, my city, and my kingdom, now. And think yourself fortunate that I let you leave
with your head still attached to your shoulders.” He stepped back. “Release him.”

  The guards let Callis's arms go. A faint trickle of blood dripped from a small incision on his neck as he skulked away, past Vaxi, past Warran, past a stone-faced Largo and Torvin. The guards at the main doors slammed them shut behind Callis, cutting off his muttered curses.

  Aridor turned to Warran, who was nursing a large bruise on his chin. “Are you all right, my son?”

  “Yes, Father,” Warran said with a pained smile. “Princess Tyah hurt me worse than this when she was ten.”

  Aridor laughed, and all the tension seemed to evaporate from the room. He took a wary step toward Vaxi, who had slipped her dagger back into her boot.

  “I see my son wasn't exaggerating,” Aridor said, eliciting a nervous smile from the young huntress.

  “Your Highness?” she said, clearing her throat.

  “Just answer me this, Vaxi: are all your people as … remarkable as you?”

  She thought for a moment. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Then it would seem this summit is just beginning.”

  * * *

  With Callis gone, the remaining royals' tempers cooled to a low simmer, and the discussions regarding Elzor proceeded at a much brisker pace.

  Mizar explained to all present in the Great Hall every scrap of knowledge he'd gleaned from his consultations with Arantha as well as his translations of Merdeen's prophecies. The existence of not one but three mystical Stones, scattered about Elystra, just waiting for someone like Elzor to claim them, had unified the royals. It was disappointing that Mizar still hadn't identified the two Wielders preparing to battle Elzaria. Equally frustrating was his ignorance of the “bird of heaven” Merdeen mentioned in his final words.

  “A bird of heaven shall descend from the Above,” Mizar recited, “and it shall bring with it Arantha's greatest warrior.” However, that was as far as his knowledge went. Aridor could only hope Arantha would reveal more in due course.