Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1)

by Beth Wangler

  “What reason have you to request an audience with us?” the sultan asks. The voice of my enemy is carefully modulated. He’s had to speak carefully his whole life. It’s no wonder. The royals around him turn calculating eyes at the sultan and us. Savi’s said that the royals are doing what they can to weaken the sultan’s power. He’s constantly surrounded by enemies who are his family.

  What will he say when I am done?

  “My wife has a story and a request for you.”

  I’ve shared this story countless times since the kaites returned me to my family. I have to change it, though, since Aia broadened what it means to be Maraian.

  “Everything was created by Aia, who is the only Thaies,” I begin, and the natural rhythm of storytelling loosens my tongue. I tell about Elcedon, the Pond of Separation, Nhardah-Lev, the choosing of Vander-Maraiah, and our coming to Izyphor. I remind them of how they enslaved the Maraians, of their fear and their decision to cast our infants into rivers.

  “But Aia has not abandoned us,” I conclude. “He is faithful to all who follow Him. And now, Aia has heard our cries for relief and is acting on His promise of freedom.

  “Sultan and royals, will you choose this day to follow your Creator and release His people from slavery?”

  Rustling whispers fill the air as the royals turn to each other.

  The sultan chuckles. “Our annual entertainment,” he says to his companions, turning the royals’ calculating glances into laughter. “Take these ones to the dungeon. Deal with them when the Feast is over.”

  Guards, hidden in the shadows until now, start toward Savi and me.

  It can’t be over this quickly! I’ve suffered too much to surrender now, when we’ve barely had a chance. I jump to my feet. Savi tugs for me to kneel again, but I stay standing. “Before you do, know this: If you release us, Izyphor will be blessed. If you refuse, Aia will make Himself known to you by great and terrible signs. To you, sultan and royals, Aia says this.” I feel power come over me and hear my voice change. “‘Release My people.’”

  This time, the whispers sound like buzzing insects. The sultan is first to overcome his shock. Deep anger carves itself in lines on his face. His voice loses its careful intonation. “How dare you approach us with your evil witchcraft? This is a Feast day! Would you speak rebellion even in the heart of our power?”

  “I do,” I say, in my regular voice. “The One I follow could crush your power in an instant. He has chosen this Feast day to make Himself known, and He is far greater than any of the fake divinities whom you look to for power.”

  “We will have you executed!” The sultan trembles in his seat, face reddening.

  A squat royal with curly black hair bows beside the sultan. “O your most excellent sultanship, and you worthy royals,” she says, “may I suggest another course?”

  “What is it, Bathatyz?” a middle-aged royal in poufy pants asks.

  She says, “The girl maintains her divinity will do great deeds. If we kill her now and her god is real, we will call down great wrath on ourselves. Perhaps it is wise to test her claims first. If he does not act, she will be revealed as a wicked insurgent and a liar. If he does act, then we will know she tells the truth. Either way, your fairness and justice will be proclaimed everywhere.”

  While she says this, Savi whispers to me, “You’re sure Aia will do signs?”

  I am.

  “Okay.” Savi takes a deep breath and speaks out. “O our sultan and O our royals, we agree with the excellent royal Bathatyz. We entreat you to permit Aia to demonstrate His power and nature.”

  A royal, so alike to the sultan that they could be twins, declares, “Bathatyz speaks well. Brother, shall you accept her advice?”

  The sultan squints at us and settles deeper into his seat. “We will hear your signs. What proof have you of your claims?”

  The answer pours off my tongue with little thought of my own. “Aia will give you seven signs. At the end of the seven signs, you will willingly give Maraiah your wealth and send her to freedom, even as you stole her wealth and enslaved her.”

  Most of the royals, except Bathatyz, laugh. The poufy-pant royal indulges in a lopsided smile.

  “Remember my words,” I warn. “Now the first sign is here: Aia has heard the cries of His people Maraiah, and His anger burns against their oppressors. Then you will know that He is greater than Tivan Firebringer.”

  The whole crowd hushes. I wait.

  Nothing happens.

  Murmurs begin, from the onlookers and the royals. They grow into raucous laughter.

  “Throw them in prison,” the sultan repeats his order. “Their lives will be forfeit when the Feast of Api ends.”

  I groan. Not this again.

  Chapter 33

  Eight people already fill the cell that is barely twice as long and wide as I am tall. A pot full of stinking human excrement occupies a corner. When the guards shove us inside, they remove a bowl containing the last remnant of slop that was probably the prisoners’ meal. The two smallest and thinnest inmates cast dark looks at the rest. I guess the dining etiquette here is strongest eat, weakest watch.

  The door clangs. The only light comes from a small window at the top of the door.

  Our new roommates stare at us with calculating expressions. Savi’s arm wraps around my shoulder, and I try to look as intimidating as possible.

  “What’s your crime?” asks a burly man, Rhilissi by his many braids, in the Common Tongue.

  “We want Maraiah freed,” Savi answers.

  “So does all your kin,” our interrogator says. “What makes you different?”

  “We threatened them with signs from Aia our God,” I say.

  An Umwian, whose rough beard almost hides his tattoos, sneers. “So you’re crazy. Easy pickin’s.” He starts toward us.

  I bump against the closed door.

  “No.” Our Rhilissi interrogator plants himself between us and the Umwian. “I know the Maraians, lived in one of their villages. Their Aia—you don’t mess with Him. No one touches these two, you hear?”

  Dark grumbles answer him, but no one challenges him.

  “And you,” he points at Savi and me, “stay away from us.”

  That’s fine by me.

  “As you say,” Savi agrees. We sink down next to the door, and the other prisoners return to their lives. Most sit or lay on the filthy ground, using their elbows when someone gets too close. Two carry on a conversation in the corner. It almost escalates to a physical fight before dying down, only to start to rise again.

  “What comes next?” Savi asks, low enough that only I hear him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know what Aia is doing?”

  I shift to look at him. “How would I know?”

  Savi pulls his arm off of my shoulder. I miss it immediately. “I don’t know. He’s been telling you what to say; I thought maybe He’d told you more.”

  “Savi, it’s not like—He doesn’t really give me advanced warning. I mostly don’t know what I’ll say till the words are coming out of my mouth.” I chew my lip, which is growing sore from all the abuse I’ve been giving it. “I mean, I didn’t plan to say, ‘Here’s your big sign: Aia’s angry at you and stronger than your lowest divinity.’ And it wasn’t like I heard him. It was...it wasn’t a voice, I just knew what to say.”

  He relaxes a little beside me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Savi sighs. “I’m sorry for getting upset about it.”

  “I can understand that, though,” I assure him. “It would be really nice to know what Aia’s planning.”

  “Well, He’ll get us out of here,” Savi says. It’s hard read his face in the dim light, but his voice is more caustic than I expect.

  “Savi?”

  “Don’t you think so?” he asks.

  I frown. “I guess. That’s what He’s been doing, getting us to the places we need to be. He always seems to come through,” I say slowly.


  “Not always.” Savi’s voice is small.

  Elesekk.

  I don’t know what to say. I find his hand and lean my head on Savi’s shoulder.

  “Rai, I don’t know what to think,” Savi admits. “It’s always seemed like Aia was there for us, leading us, if not in the most convenient ways. He even used Maylani to bring us back together. But...why didn’t He protect my dad?” Saviayr’s shoulder twitches. His breaths are shallow.

  The arguing prisoners finally break into a fight. Our other companions shout at them and wrench them apart. “Get over it,” they rebuke the pair.

  “What if Aia’s given up on us?” Savi whispers, ignoring the altercation. “I’m scared, Rai. I’m so angry, and I think it’s at Aia, and I don’t know what to do.”

  He shudders. Acting on impulse, I wrap him in a hug and pull him close.

  “I hate that,” Savi chokes. “I’m terrified. What if Aia gives up on us because I’m angry at Him?”

  I rub his back. “Savi,” I murmur, “I don’t know why Elesekk...why that happened to him. I do know that Aia won’t reject us because you’re hurting.”

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. His breaths are uneven, and his shoulders shake with the effort of restrained tears.

  I cup his cheek, holding him close to my chest. “It’s okay to grieve,” I say. “You can cry.”

  Savi shudders. “No, I can’t.”

  “Savi—”

  “No, Rai.” His voice is strained. “Please.”

  I don’t understand, but I honor his wish. I squeeze him, trying to lend strength and share his pain. “Think of Nhardah, yeah?” I return to the topic of Aia giving up on us. “He was heartbroken when his family died and Neemech tried to kill him. When Nhardah ran away, he thought Aia had forsaken him, and he yelled to ierah. But Aia still chose him. Aia sent Mithrida to comfort Nhardah and reaffirmed His promise to redeem creation through his descendants. Aia is certainly okay with you grieving your father.”

  Savi eventually lifts his head. When he does, I touch his face, running my thumb over the week-old beard on his chin. I like his beard. It’s physical evidence of our time together. The faintly ruddy hairs grow in an even line around his lips, except where they avoid a fingernail-crescent scar under his lip.

  The day he got that scar, we were watching the village children while the adults worked. At almost fourteen and eleven, we were too young to be forced into labor but old enough for responsibility. That particular day began with a warning passed from mouth to mouth: “Atia took care of a rabid hare this morning. Be on your guard.”

  We were especially alert by the creek, which is how we noticed the jackal weaving a crooked path toward water. “Get into a hut! Quick!” Savi shouted. We scooped up the smallest children and the other big kids did the same, then we ran as fast as our legs would carry us.

  I was two steps behind Savi and barely saw it happen. A rock caught his foot. As he hurtled toward the ground, Savi twisted to protect the baby in his arms. His right side slammed into the ground. Faster than I could blink, he was back up and running. We were safely inside with all of our charges accounted for before we realized his lip was split.

  I kiss his scar and promise, “Aia has not abandoned us.”

  Savi slumps back against the wall and pulls me to his chest.

  I jump when the door slams into me, jolting me awake. Savi’s grip on me tightens, his eyes wide and startled.

  The other prisoners start exclaiming at once. The voice of the Umwian rises over the rest. “There’s no more room! You can’t cram us in like hay in a bale!”

  The guards ignore our cellmates. “You two,” one of them barks at Savi and me. “Come with us.”

  Savi angles himself between the guard and me. “But you can’t execute us till the Feast is over.”

  “Obviously. The sultan wants you.”

  Savi and I look at each other. I can’t imagine why the sultan wants us, but maybe this is Aia coming through for us. I shrug and we stand.

  The guards’ eyes light on something at our waists. “Hey, how did you get those swords in here?”

  Swords?

  Sure enough, Luemikaroeth is still at my side. How on Orrock did I not realize that? How did we get them past all the guards?

  “That’s a great question,” Savi says, clearly as perplexed as I am. His hand rests on Elgarnoseth.

  The guard looks up at Savi’s face and seems to forget all about the swords. “What are you waiting for? The sultan’s waiting.”

  They hurry us out of the cell, and my misgivings grow. What is so urgent that they’re forgetting to disarm two prisoners? Why are they letting us out without binding us in some way?

  When they lead us up into the courtyard guarded by the faces of the dead, I understand.

  The pungent fumes of fire fill the air. Surrounding the capital is a wall of flame three times higher than any building I’ve ever seen.

  “‘His anger burns against you,’” Savi quotes in a whisper.

  So this is what Aia meant.

  Chapter 34

  “Do something!” The sultan, minus his wheat crown, sits rod-straight on his throne in the courtyard. “Speak to your divinity. Save us from this fire.”

  The royals encircle him, standing this time. The statues of Api still stand inanimate under Yza’s flowing textiles, but the idols hold no one’s attention today. The scent of smoke is too strong. The amber flames sway, encapsulating the capital in heat, dividing it from the rest of the world.

  It takes a moment to reclaim my voice. “As you wish. Aia, Father of all creation, please relent from Your anger and save us from this fire.” I lift my eyes to the specks of ierah visible between the textiles as I speak.

  Unlike my declaration of Aia’s burning wrath, this time the effects are immediately visible. The flames fall to the ground like a snuffed candle. In a blink, no fire remains.

  The sultan sends servants to inspect the city’s edge. “Find what has caused this terrible wonder,” he orders.

  “I told you what caused it,” I remind them. “Aia the one true God has done it. Let His people go.”

  The sultan narrows his eyes. “We shall see.”

  While we wait, the royals break into smaller clumps, whispering. Many cast glances at the sultan. He pretends not to notice, but his round shoulders straighten.

  Savi sidesteps closer to me. “Hey,” he says, “if something like this happens again, from a diplomatic standpoint, right before you pray would be a powerful time for bargaining.”

  I look up at him. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Why did I not think of that?”

  Savi tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “You haven’t been dealing in politics for the last couple years. Your interactions have been—”

  “More naive?” I guess.

  “I was going to say kinder.”

  The servants return, running. All eyes fix on them. One servant clutches something wrapped in the hem of her skirt. “There is no fire,” the servants exclaim. “The ground is even cool to touch! The only proof of the fire is this,” and a servant girl unwraps what she had hidden. Sunlight glints off of it as she hands it to the sultan.

  “Marvelous,” the sultan wonders, turning the shard over. “So clear and smooth. Where did you find this?”

  The servant girl bows her head to the ground. “O our great sultan, glass like this surrounds the whole city, where the heat from the fire melted the sand.”

  The royals are quiet.

  Savi steps forward. “O our sultan and O our royals, you have seen the power of Aia-Thaies. Will you release Maraiah from slavery?”

  Bathatyz, the woman who prompted the sultan to hear us out two nights ago, whispers in his ear. He frowns and gives a sharp nod at what she says, then in a loud voice orders, “Summon the court magicians. We shall compare their power to yours.”

  The servants disappear into the palace, and the magicians emerge almost immediately. They bow before the sultan, glancing at each
other nervously.

  “You saw what these Maraians did,” the sultan says. “Can you replicate their sign?”

  One of the magicians speaks with a shaking voice. “O our sultan, we will try to surpass their sign. We will bring fire out of water.”

  The servants wheel out a basin of water, and my suspicions rise. They were planning their response before we were called out. Is this just a pretense?

  The magicians circle the water, where they mutter together. Their voices rise, and their words become clearer. I recognize the name of Tivan Firebringer, but I also recognize something else. I grab Savi’s arm.

  This is the first time I’ve heard the tongue of aivenkaites come from the mouths of unenthralled, living humans.

  As the magicians chant, the water in the bath sloshes back and forth. Their chanting grows. The water contorts. Fire flares up, blue at its core. The magicians roar aivenkaite words, raising their hands, and the flame also rises. It dances with hideous shapes from dark nightmares.

  This is not just illusion. This is partnership with Aivenah.

  The magicians stop chanting. The flames linger for a horrible moment, living on their own.

  Then they flicker out, and I loosen my grip on Saviayr.

  The sultan crosses his arms. “See the power of Tivan Firebringer? Your Aia has failed to impress me. Can He bring fire from water?”

  Anger and the compulsion to speak fill me. “Here is your second sign: You polluted the waters of this land with the bodies of Aia’s children. Now Aia says, ‘All life within the rivers will cease, and they will rot and stink with the foulness of death. Then you will know that I am greater than Havil Defender of Rivers.’

  “You can prevent this,” I add in my own voice. All life in the rivers dead—that will be a terrible thing. In droughts or poor harvests, the river’s fish sustain us. “Free Aia’s people, and no more harm will come to you.”

  The sultan declares, “May your Aia be content with this: I will let you stay out of prison, at least for now, but I will never surrender our slaves.”