They regarded each other a moment; the conspirators and the Villain. Finally, Vella said, “It doesn’t appear to be getting any warmer. Maybe we should get moving?”
Aris pointed to the third figure. “Who is this?”
“It’s me,” the figure said. “Razhier.”
Aris dropped his hand. “No. Not you. Your coming wasn't part of the plan.”
Razhier pulled the furs down from around his mouth. “Jeppo wanted me to come. And Fiskahn too.”
“I do not negotiate,” Aris said.
“Listen, sir,” Jeppo began. “You are, ah, yes, you are the killer, to be sure, in this humble party of ours, but you are not, shall we say, no, you are not the leader…”
“I do not negotiate.”
“What do you care anyway?” Vella asked.
Clipping each word and dragging the pauses, Aris said, “Razhier, you will remain in Harivaz. Protect Fiskahn. Protect your mother. Stay behind and stay safe. Do you understand? If you come with us, you will die. By my hand or the Juulliiss’.”
“And they won’t?” Razhier asked, gesturing to Jeppo and Vella.
“Oh, they probably will,” Aris said. “But I care nothing for their lives. Go home.”
“Here I thought that bringing you along would provide us protection,” Vella said. “What good are you if you don’t have the confidence to keep us safe from the Juulliiss?”
“Now, dear…” Jeppo began, wringing his hands.
“I don’t keep people safe, miss,” Aris said. “I do the opposite.”
They left Razhier behind. Over the flat tundra with its blowing snow and rumbling ground, they walked for as long as Jeppo’s creaking knees could carry him. When they stopped to rest, Aris washed down tough chunks of cured meat with gulps of melted snow while Jeppo and Vella sipped at wine from bloated wineskins and ate diced fruit. Vella complained of a bit of fruitskin stuck in her teeth; Aris offered his knife but she recoiled from the fat blade.
Later, on the road, Jeppo fell into step beside Aris. “Ah, sir, I wonder, yes, I do indeed wonder if I might have a word, rather, share a word with you…”
Aris rounded on Jeppo and lifted him off the ground with one hand on the Court Clerk’s throat. Vella shrieked but stayed back, frightened by Aris’ glare. Jeppo slapped Aris’ arms and kicked at his chest but the Villain shook him still.
“The annals of the Mourisiel,” Aris said.
“What?” Jeppo’s eyes bulged out of his head.
“You know them? You have them memorized?” Aris shook Jeppo again until the Court Clerk nodded emphatically. “Recite them to me, and do not dare stutter.”
The fear in Jeppo’s eyes turned to anger. “You bastard..."
Aris slammed Jeppo into the ground. The Court Clerk choked for air but with Aris' leaning on his chest, he began to blue. The Villain brought his face closer to Jeppo's and said, "Do as I say."
As soon as Aris' relaxed his hold, Jeppo sucked in a deep breath and rushed through the introductory statement of the Mourisian Annals. "In this the seventh age of the Mourisiel, eternal may that name ever be, it is conscript upon us to…”
“That’s enough,” Aris stood and brushed the snow off his knees. Vella rushed to Jeppo's side but he pushed her away and rose on his own. “No more stuttering or playing the fool," Aris said, pointing an aggressive finger. "I'm not listening to that for the rest of this journey. Save your games for the court.”
“How did you know?” Where he had slouched before, Jeppo now stood tall. His anxious ticks seemed cured.
“I see monsters for what they are,” Aris said.
“I am no monster,” Jeppo said. “Though the court may be awash with them, I am not of their kind. How dare you say anything to the contrary? I am here, risking my life, to see the terrible Mourisiels taken out of power so the people can rule themselves…”
“I told you,” Aris said, “to leave your games for the court. I have no interest in the excuses you’ve told the other conspirators. I know your game, clerk. I see what you intend. It is only for my daughter that I have joined your cause. Do not sense loyalty here where there is none.”
Red-faced, Jeppo rounded on his daughter. "What about you? Are you with me or not? Ungrateful wench, you just stood there while he..."
Aris slung one of the blue-tinged Kovah blades off his back and held its point against Jeppo’s throat, silencing him. “I've heard just about as much as I need to. Speak when necessary and never otherwise. Do you understand?”
Jeppo seethed. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good.” Aris sheathed his sword. “Then we can return to our journey.” Yet Aris did not move. The wind blew the same as it had before, whispering its secrets across the snowpack, but some part of the world had shifted nonetheless. He searched his feelings for some understanding of the premonition but none came.
Jeppo walked past him. "What is it, Villain? You step on a stone?"
Aris locked eyes with Vella. She stood nearby, unmoving, paler than Aris remembered.
"Did you feel that?" Aris asked.
"I feel nothing."
Aris took a step closer. "You do, though. It is never advisable to lie to me." The demon inside Aris shifted as if waking, then settled. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I am thinking that it was wrong of you for attacking my father like that."
"No, you are grateful to me." The strange sensation began to dissipate despite Aris' attempts to hold it. "I read you. You are feeling anxious. What happened just now? What are you really feeling?"
Aris stepped close enough to feel her breath. Vella kept her eyes on him and he gazed into her, hoping to draw out the truth even if she fought him, but the demon within rested and the world returned to normal.
"I'm not lying," Vella whispered. "I didn't feel anything."
Jeppo called back, "What is holding us up? We must be on the road. Come on then, you two. Come on."
The Villain put his finger close to Vella's face. "I will protect you from your father but there is nobody and nothing that can protect you from me."
Aris stomped away, angry at himself for losing the premonition before discovering its meaning. As he passed Jeppo, the Court Clerk asked, "Are you flirting with my daughter, assassin?"
Though the sensation itself was gone, the memory lingered. The Court Clerk’s daughter was hiding something, Aris was sure, but he couldn’t think what it might be. He resigned himself to keeping an eye on her and returned to his place at the head of the group, leading them across the tundra toward the Juulliis border.
Camarei VI
Aioni
On hands and knees, Valkil and Malquin crawled over the hilltop. The others remained behind, awaiting their return. Recruiting Aioni was something only the brothers could do, Valkil had said. It was partly true.
The hill descended steeply into a large, deep pit. At the bottom, shards of silver and steel stuck out from ground at odd angles, sharp and dangerous. Among them, a small shack with a corrugated roof looked innocuous and alone. Nothing moved save for red and yellow cloth ribbons caught on the points of several shards, listless in the breeze.
The brothers made their way down the slope, helping each other when the way became too steep. Halfway down, Valkil paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. Still no sound from the shack nor movement in the pit, but intuition raised his hackles.
Valkil landed softly between shards, making no noise, but Malquin slipped at the last moment and caught himself on a chunk of silver. He cursed out loud and held his bleeding hand to his chest. Valkil admonished him with a look but Malquin glared back unfazed until something inside the shack growled.
The brothers froze, listening, waiting. Through the cracks where the shack’s crude walls met, something moved, blocking the light in intervals.
“She hear us?” Malquin asked in a whisper.
The creature inside the shack roared and shook the walls. The brothers drew their blades and waited, but whatever was within the sh
ack didn’t emerge. Just when Valkil took a step forward to investigate, someone shouted down from the edge of the pit.
“You boys looking for someone?”
Valkil shielded his eyes against the White Star’s light. She was a shadow against the white sky but he recognized Aioni’s shape; tall and lean, long hair blowing out in the wind. “What are you keeping in there, eh?”
“Would you like to find out?” Aioni asked, bringing up her bow. “It’s just a small bit of twine keeping the door shut. I could hit it from here.”
“No, I think I prefer you didn’t.”
“What brings you?”
Valkil hesitated. “We heard a great hunter lived here. You know where we might find him?”
“I suppose this hunter must be a man to be so great, is that what you think? You impotent...”
“Aioni,” Valkil said, removing the hand shielding his eyes. “It’s me. I was only kidding.”
Aioni stared in silence. “Valkil. You foul idiot. Is that your brother, then?”
“It is,” Malquin said. “It’s good to see you, Aioni. It’s been a time, hasn’t it?”
With a grunt, Aioni released the bowstring. The arrow glanced off a shard of steel between the brothers, showering sparks. “The next one of you to speak gets an arrow between the eyes. Do you understand me?” Neither brother spoke. “Good. Now, I thought I had made it clear what would happen the next time I saw you. Either of you. You’ve come seeking that end, I suppose? No, you’ve come because you think the saying is true, that all is forgiven when the Blue Star rises and enemies are made friends under its rule. Well, it’s come and gone since last we saw each other and yet I still feel the same animosity. Sayings are just that, I suppose.” She thought a moment. “Tell me, Val. Commander. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes,” Valkil said carefully. “I did.”
“How many others did you step on to get there? How many did you hold down? How many lives did you see ruined so you, the legendary Verdant Knight, could be sure of your place in history?”
“One more since you, at least,” Malquin said. “We had our own falling out. Cycles of silence between us. I know your suffering.”
“Do you, Malquin?” Aioni's voice shook. “I think not, for here you are. Side by side with the great manipulator. Does he still hold such sway over you that even when you have been crushed by him, he can drag you in his stead with words and promises? How did you never learn that you can’t trust a word he says?”
“Listen, Aioni, I’ve done terrible things...” Valkil began.
“Yes,” Aioni said, cutting him off. “We all know you have. The stories that tell of your exploits, they may keep your deviousness secret but Malquin and I, we know all that you’ve done.”
“Not all,” Valkil said. “Only I carry that burden.”
“So what brings you then?”
“I’ve come to apologize.”
She laughed, long and loud. “Oh, Valkil. Commander. You lie so boldly. It is as if lies are the only language you understand. So let me tell you a lie of my own.” She drew back an arrow. “I hope you survive this.”
The arrow flew true to its target, cutting the twine on the shack door. A long, lithe creature burst out with a roar but then paused in the doorway, blinded by the White Star’s light. Valkil recognized the species as a varrucat, a predator feared for its cunning and speed. Common in the oases of the vast desert nearby, varrucats hunted alone, bringing down any and all prey that haplessly crossed them.
Malquin grabbed Valkil’s tunic and pulled. “Come on, while it’s blinded.”
Valkil shook him off. “We’ll never climb out before it catches us. Morray’s Offense first, unless it moves faster through this mess than I expect, then Sachra’s Sacrifice.”
The varrucat found its faculties. It slinked towards them through the steel beams, body low to the ground, round eyes trained on its prey, unblinking.
Malquin cursed and planted his right foot just beside Valkil’s left, switching his weapon to his left hand so as to mirror Valkil. Aioni laughed. “Your mind has remained sharp, Commander, but has your strength? Come on, old man. Let’s see what the legends are borne of.”
The varrucat circled them, silent on broad paws. The brothers turned as well, keeping the predator before them. They had little room between the metal shards, only enough to make their stand.
Finally, the varrucat charged, moving swiftly and easily through the shards. At once, the brothers abandoned their stance; Valkil crouched in front of Malquin, both hands on his blade handle, and Malquin pointed his sword over Valkil’s head. The varrucat stopped up short just before them, eyes on their blades. It roared, showing rows of teeth, and Valkil felt its hot breath.
In that instant, Valkil made up his mind; he cast his sword aside and opened his arms. The varrucat sniffed the air, then pawed a step closer.
“What are you doing?” Malquin asked, a harsh and incredulous whisper.
“Trust me,” Valkil said. “Throw away your blade.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind this time, Val.”
“Just do it.”
Malquin tossed his sword away. The blade clattered where it fell and after it came to a rest, silence hung heavy.
Valkil looked into the varrucat’s big, round eyes. “Come on then, big guy,” he said soothingly. “Come on.”
The cat padded forward and nuzzled its big head on Valkil’s chest. He scratched it between the ears in return, laughing. It pushed against him, knocking him over, and then lay on his legs, head still on his chest, Valkil's hands rubbing the coarse fur of its face.
Valkil grinned up at Malquin's face, a mask of confused anger. “This is no killer,” Valkil said with a wink. “He’s a lover.”
“But how did you know?” Malquin asked, hands on his hips. “How in all Nayera could you have possibly known?”
“Look at him!” Valkil patted the varrucat’s stout belly. “He’s well-fed. His teeth are clean. She’s been caring for him like a mother cares for her babe.”
“Damn you, Valkil!” Aioni shouted down. “I should put an arrow right through you.”
“You probably should,” Valkil said, “but now that you’ve decided you’re not going to, I hope you’ll at least listen to what we came to say.”
She glared for a long time as her varrucat loved on Valkil before she sighed and said, “Ok, then. But if I don’t like what I hear, I may just kill you then.”
☆ ☆ ☆
In the camp, only Shavyn and Erona remained. Valkil and Malquin had been gone a while, recruiting Aioni. Ahlaha had gone to bathe in the nearby river and they could hear her singing.
“Do you suppose she’s talking to herself or singing an actual song?” Shavyn asked without looking up, working on a broken boot clasp. “Is there a difference in Moridah?”
“I don’t know,” Erona said. She lay on her back, hands under her head, eyes closed. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“I can’t understand a thing she says. Even when she speaks Camarein, her accent is too strange. You catch any of it?”
“Sometimes.”
A breeze picked up and Shavyn sighed. “I could do with more of that. It’s hotter than a fever.”
“Malquin says we’re not too far from the oasis.”
“That’ll be wonderful.” Shavyn paused. “You’ve been talking to him a good bit on the road. You getting along?”
“He’s nice,” Erona said. “I think he’s been heartbroken for so long he doesn’t know how to be happy.”
“He tell you what happened between him and Valkil?”
Erona squinted at Shavyn. “Sort of. Not really. Do you know?”
Shavyn shook his head. “Valkil never even told me had a brother. It must be some secret.”
“Well,” Erona said, “I like him.”
“Better than Valkil?”
“I don’t know.” Erona thought a moment. “I like Valkil, too. I don’t think anyone could h
elp but like Valkil. Seems strange that so many people seem to hate him instead. Malquin, for example. This Aioni person, whoever she is.”
“I don’t understand it either. Valkil can be a tough teacher but he’s always been kind to me.” Shavyn hesitated. “Do you like Malquin better than me?”
Erona laughed, then thought better of it. “I’m sorry. Are you serious?”
Shavyn kept his eyes on the boot clasp, though he only fumbled with it idly. “I can’t tell if you’re laughing because it should be obvious that you do like Malquin or so obvious that you like me.”
“Shavyn,” Erona said, “you’re a sweet boy. I’m grateful to you for being the first in Verden to believe me. But I don’t think it’s the right time to begin a romance.”
“Why not?” Shavyn asked. “Could be that hunting the therill is the last thing we do…”
“It killed my friends,” Erona said, tone sharp. “My mother. Talking about it gets me hot, but not in the way you’re hoping.”
Shavyn looked at her at last. “I’m so sorry. I only meant, I think we’re both scared. I thought maybe I could cheer you up if you’d let me.”
“You know what would cheer me up? Kill me a therill, Shavyn. Bring me its head. I promise you I’ll love anyone who does that for me.”
Skor-Adal VI
The Praether
In the tallest tower of the temple called Prid-Nuir, the High Priest of Skor-Adal sat in a plain wooden throne. His pink robes flowed over the chair to the stone floor and then down the dais steps. A window behind the throne looked out over the city, its people working like the insects of the forests beyond the Edge, multitudinous and fastidious. Several passing islandics cast moving shadows over the land.
The throne room was small and circular and, besides the throne, unfurnished. Large, rectangular works of intricately-engraved wood and stone leaned against the walls. Opaque windows around the room’s edges admitted only dim and filtered light from the White Star.
A priestess in pink robes entered through the arched doors. At the first dais step, she knelt and extended her arms toward the High Priest.
White Star Phase: Book One of the Ascendants Chronicle Page 9