by D N Meinster
Pudo tossed Aros his straps. "I can see I'm not going to change your mind." He walked out of the room and returned seconds later with a black shirt. "This will fit you."
Aros tussled with the black shirt as he pulled it down over his chest and squeezed his arms into it. The sleeves went over his elbows, and the rest of it clung so tightly to him that the bulge of bandages beneath was clearly visible. It lacked any design, though Aros had almost expected to find Neanthal's symbol on it.
"You are making a mistake," Pudo said. "Haven't you made enough of those since you've been in Faunli?"
Aros certainly had, but he was done making mistakes. He only had goals now, which he fully intended to achieve. And that would not happen if he spent days in Magenine's Haven. He slipped the straps onto his torso and made certain they were secure. He was going to get his clawblades back.
"If Leidess was here – "
"Leidess wants me to kill Sarin," Aros rejoined. He found his sandals at the foot of the bed and tightened them onto his feet.
Pudo grabbed onto Aros' good shoulder. "I know how much you've been hurting. I feel it. It's how I know you're not ready."
Aros glanced at him. "I wasn't ready when they interrupted my grief, but I went with them. I wasn't ready when I met the Emperor, but I went along. I wasn't ready so I tried to go home, but no one would let me. You know what I've learned, Pudo? It doesn't matter if I'm ready."
Pudo let go of him and gripped the golden M on his chest. Then he pulled it off and extended the necklace to Aros.
Aros stared at it. "I don't need a statue or necklace to worship."
Pudo smirked. "No, but you need a reminder that even when the Goddess isn't speaking to you, She is with you."
Aros accepted the gift and put it on over his shirt. He rubbed his fingers over the smooth Ligold. Somehow he knew this necklace meant a lot to Pudo. "Thank you."
Next, Pudo reached into his absurdly oversized pants and retrieved a handful of gold coins. "I noticed you didn't have any currency on you. You may find you need these before long."
Aros took the coins and shoved them into his pockets. At least he still wore the same pants. "We use gems in Kytheras." But Aros hadn't thought to bring any. He had only taken his blades. No one had mentioned he'd need anything else.
"You've been unprepared since before you arrived here," Pudo said with a snicker.
Aros ran a hand through his spiky hair. There was no denying that. "You don't happen to have a map too, do you?"
"You won't need one," Pudo replied.
Aros' face dropped. He did not believe that one. He had no clue where he was or which direction to go.
"You will find them the same way you found me," Pudo said. "I have only one more thing for you." He spread out his arms and wrapped Aros in the tightest hug he'd ever experienced.
Aros gasped for breath until Pudo let go. "What about a sword?"
Pudo shook his head. "You can choose peace, even when you are surrounded by war." He placed his hand on Aros' back and led him toward the exit.
Aros felt a twinge of the bloodlust that had consumed him multiple times in Faunli. "What if I can't? What if it's beyond my control?"
Pudo opened his front door. "If you stay, I will teach you to control it."
Aros looked back toward the bedroom and then to the outside world merely a few steps away. He had never enjoyed being taught. What if he stayed and didn't learn anything? That's what most of his childhood had been like. "I can't," he murmured.
"I know," Pudo said. "You are Aros Asilias. And that's a very good thing, indeed. May Magenine's light point you true."
Aros walked through the doorframe. "Thank you."
Pudo gave him one last grin before closing the door.
Aros sighed, second-guessing his decision. Pudo had saved his life and offered to do even more. Was it wise to reject that? But there was so much left to do. He wasn't about to turn around. Right now, he needed Magenine to point him in the right direction.
Aros began down one of the busy streets of Magenine's Haven. The gray stone structures, many with red roofs and smoking chimneys, reminded Aros of Kytheras. This was the civilization he remembered. Many he passed wore the same golden M that now hung from his own neck.
Faunli was so odd. Kytherans acknowledged their faith without needing props. They didn't need shrines to remember the Goddess. They only built those for the dead. And it was in remembrance of those who had moved on; it wasn't to worship them. Aros was glad he hadn't been born here. He probably would have disliked it more than he disliked Madam Tudith's class.
Aros came to a stop in front of a glorious fountain. An enormous golden M had been surrounded by white pillars wrapped with golden flowers. This M was slightly different than the one Aros wore. It had an arrow horizontally sticking through it. He reached out to touch it, but a strong gust of wind spun the M on its axis. It went around several times before stopping. The arrowhead was pointing to the street to his right.
Aros gazed down the street before looking back at the M. He smiled to himself and clasped the necklace in his palm. "Thank you, too," he said before heading down the street the arrow had pointed to.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Second Dynasty
Simma could not remember a time when Luewen and Kuwain had gotten along. Throughout their childhood, her two younger brothers had been rivals, competing to best each other in schooling or vying for Emperor Boramo's affections. Neither believed her father could love them both equally, so they kept trying to prove themselves to him. It was as if the victor of a competition would win his love. But if they thought love would compel him to override their traditions, they were mistaken.
When he was dying, it must have become clear to them that the age-old law of dynastic inheritance would stand. There would be no decree or change. The oldest son would inherit the entire empire, meaning Luewen would be emperor. If only Kuwain could have accepted that. If only Simma had caught on to his plan earlier.
Instead, she was the last one to realize what was happening. When she walked into the Imperial Hall, those many seasons ago, it was entirely empty, except for her two brothers. Luewen looked down at Kuwain from his throne, while their ancestors watched from the sidelines with their crystalline eyes. Simma could imagine the shame they must have felt, as their heirs shamed the dynasty with their petty squabbles.
"Forty families have joined me," Kuwain was informing his brother. He stood with his hands behind his back, rather pleased with his pronouncement. "I have enough men to take Radite by force if I have to."
Luewen pressed his fingers together as he considered his brother's threats. "You would kill your father's men to take his throne?"
Simma stayed in the shadows, her presence not yet detected by her brothers. She didn't want to believe her brothers might go to war over the throne, but it was not surprising. They had always wanted the Emperor's love, but they had never once pretended to love one another. But shouldn't they have at least respected her father's wishes? He wouldn't have wanted this. No honorable ruler wants war.
"I would prefer not to involve them," Kuwain replied. "That's why I am here. I only need to kill you."
Simma hung her head. Blood had not been spilled in the Imperial Hall for over a century. And yet Kuwain presumed to challenge Luewen while standing on the hallowed marble. She could not stand by and allow such a travesty.
"I inherited this throne by sacred rite," Luewen stated.
"And by those sacred rites, I challenge you," Kuwain spat back.
Luewen sneered at his brother. "It is unheard of for such a challenge. I am the rightful Emperor of Faunli."
"It is this or war, brother. Take your pick."
"Neither," Simma said, her voice reverberating through the empty chamber. She stepped into the light and threw off her shawl, revealing the sleeveless blue attire underneath. The candles were heating up a room that surely did not need it in the middle of Summer.
"Simma," both h
er brothers muttered at the same time.
"Not pleased to see me?" she asked. "Would you rather try to murder one another without interference?"
"There will not be any murder here," Luewen assured her.
"Really? Then why is Kuwain reaching for his dagger?" Simma's accusative stare caused Kuwain to reveal his empty hands.
"Do you mean to kill me even if I do not agree to your challenge?" Luewen asked.
Kuwain gave the most awful smile she'd ever seen. "Naturally."
"This is treachery, brother," Simma barked.
"No!" Kuwain cried. "It is you two that have betrayed all of Faunli. You, who allow the empire to wither away while the unseen lands wait behind Oblivion for a brave enough emperor to take them. The darkness may frighten you and all of the Korona dynasty, but I am not afraid. I will take this throne, and I will march our men through Oblivion and restore to us all the glory that we have not seen in centuries."
Simma and Luewen eyed each other. Their brother was speaking of revealing a secret that only the Imperial family was permitted to know. The Five Kingdoms were still connected, but the link between them was only created for an emergency. They were not supposed to march armies through it. They were not even meant to tell the citizenry. For the preservation of all they had established after the Dark Reign, none but a select few had ever been told.
"You speak madness," Simma said. "That secret has been held by this family since the Liberation."
"Not any longer," Kuwain replied. "The forty families know. And when they heard of it, they were eager to back my claim to the empire."
"You fool!" Luewen roared. "You've shamed our father and every ancestor in this room."
Kuwain stared down at the floor. "It is time that the Korona dynasty reveal itself to all of Ghumai. We will outshine Phodos and strike in them that which they have not felt since before Aergo subjugated us." He slipped out his sword from beneath his golden robes and held it high for his siblings to see.
Simma recoiled at the jagged edges and the symbol imprinted in the black blade. Kuwain was wielding a sword that belonged to the Massku. "Have you any honor left?"
Kuwain ignored his sister and thrust himself into the air and toward the throne.
Luewen rolled forward off the throne and fell to the floor. The Massku blade embedded itself in the back of the royal chair.
For a moment, Luewen appeared as a defenseless pile of red rags, but he took off while his brother worked to remove the sword from the throne.
From a crevasse near one of the walls, Luewen grabbed a pike and held its golden tip toward his brother.
Simma watched, unsure whether to get involved. Her interference could be considered dishonorable, but she could not allow Kuwain to commandeer the throne. Luewen was levelheaded, but he was not as capable a warrior as his brother. He didn't stand a chance even if he had the Emperor's gloves instead of the pike. Simma slipped her hands into her pockets and took hold of her own weapons.
Kuwain regained control of his sword and headed toward his brother. Luewen attempted a few unsuccessful thrusts before Kuwain sliced the fanged head from the tip of the pike. Kuwain went in for a few more blows that were blocked by his brother's pole, but it was obvious that Luewen wouldn't last.
Simma charged forward. She drew the metallic gloves out from her pockets, expanding the compressed metal wide enough so they could fit around her hands. She slipped them on, covering her hands in the barbed metal that could stand against even the sharpest weapon.
Luewen's pike was in pieces and he was backed against the crystal statue of one of their ancestors. Kuwain was relishing the advantage. His blade was inches from his brother's neck, the Key that their father had worn already in his hands. With a single stab, he would become emperor.
Simma smacked the Massku blade with such ferocity that it flew from Kuwain's grasp and landed near the exit.
Kuwain turned just as Simma drove her glove into his face. The barbed mesh left several nicks on his nose and cheeks as he toppled back onto the marble floor.
Kuwain lacked the means to strike back, though from the look in his eyes she could tell he so wanted to.
"You will never be emperor," Simma hissed at him. She knew what she should do. Kuwain had to die to preserve the peace in Faunli and Ghumai. The boy she had known her entire life had betrayed her family. She could feel the ancestors in the room urging her on. This had to be done.
But as she stood over him, waiting to beat him with her gloves, she could only see the child Kuwain used to be. He was still innocent, with so much potential. She tried to shake the image, but each time she dared to raise an arm, she saw only a ten-year-old boy looking back.
Was magic causing this? She had heard of its effects but never experienced them. Taking a life wasn't so hard. Her father had encouraged it, explaining how she needed to kill often when she was young so she wouldn't hesitate when she was older. But now she was hesitating. No capable Faun warrior would, and she was much better than that.
Her vacillation gave Kuwain enough time to retreat. He slid from his position and made a run for the door. He grabbed his blade and vanished into the streets of Radite.
Simma did not chase him. She could not believe that she had failed to end her brother's life.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Luewen came up to her side. "There will be a war, now."
"I'm sorry, brother. I couldn't." Simma glanced at the staff near the back wall before taking off her gloves and leaving Luewen alone in the chamber. How much of what followed was her fault?
The civil war in Faunli had claimed many lives, and Simma felt responsible for them all. She owed it to her father, to the empire, to try and end this conflict. But neither of her brothers would listen to her. Luewen could not forgive his brother for trying to take his life. And Kuwain could not forgive his brother for his apparent passivity. They were willing to destroy all of it for a shallow victory.
Simma had gone to Kuwain to try and broker some sort of arrangement. Maybe they could split the empire. But her brother refused. She should have known better than to presuppose reason from a man who doubted Neanthal's existence yet wielded a Massku blade.
She had thought better of Luewen, but he had become determined to murder any man, woman, or child that joined the forty families in support of his brother's claim. This was not the Luewen she had grown up with. Both brothers deserved to die. She should have been working towards that, instead of trying to save them. But her weakness that day, seasons ago, was a symptom of something more than affection. There was a blockage inside of her. She could kill anyone, except them.
Since Hatswick's appearance, and this mage Rikki's, she was convinced it was magic. There was no other explanation. But she did not ask them for a cure. Deep down, she was grateful she couldn't do it. Luewen and Kuwain were the only family she had left, even if neither deserved to be emperor.
She had made it far enough from Kuwain's camp so that the wind no longer carried its sounds. Simma stopped and enjoyed the serenity around her. The chirping birds and the grazing caribou ignored her presence. The branches swayed and the berries fell to the earth. How much longer could one encounter a scene like this? Soon it would all be stained with blood.
What would she tell Luewen when she returned to Radite? Should she even bother? At this point, it might make more sense to leave. She could warn the other kingdoms about her brother. They could at least be prepared for a coming invasion.
Simma swept her hand across the grass, the soft needles tickling her palms, before picking up a berry. How could she even think of leaving her home? If there was going to be a great battle, she had to be part of it.
She tossed the berry into her mouth and chewed on it, sucking on the flavorful juices as her teeth tore through the skin.
All of the land around her, and all of the people of Faunli, had once belonged to her father, Emperor Boramo. He had maintained an empire that, since the Liberation, had threatened to break apart. There were too many
disparate ideas coexisting in Faunli. And there was only a limited amount of space for those ideas to spread out. The Korona dynasty's mission had always been a strong, unified Faunli. Without the Phodos family ruling, many questioned the legitimacy of the new occupiers of Radite. But many learned to respect the new dynasty, not because of their belligerence, but because they kept order when chaos was deemed inevitable. Every emperor had since made peace their priority, and none had failed. Magenites could coexist with Thalians as the farmers could live with the hunters.
However, all of this was built upon a lie. Fauns believed that there was no possibility for expansion. What they saw when the sun rose was as much as they would see when it set. So a people that had once craved conquering were quelled and made to accept the new limits of the world.
Simma's father had preserved this deception. When Emperor Boramo revealed to his family that there was a pathway between the kingdoms, he emphasized that it was only for emergency communications.
Simma had not looked into Kuwain's face when they were told this secret. She could not see that from the second he learned it, he was birthing a plan that would undo all that the Korona dynasty had built. That after her father died, he would mobilize the forty families and make a claim for a throne that did not belong to him and eradicate not only the peace in Faunli but all of Ghumai as well.
There were too many secrets held by the Korona family. Each was a thread that could so easily be pulled and unravel the entire empire. Emperor Boramo had taken the burden of them for most of his life. And he had added to them.
Simma picked up another berry. There was a thread she could pull. It could as easily end the Korona dynasty as it could end the civil war. Was it worth it?
Before she could pop the berry into her mouth, a white ball of fur swiped her legs and tackled a nearby pile of fallen fruit. It ingested whole pieces of produce, before whistling a couple times and diving back in.
Simma approached it, yet she was reluctant to disturb it. Though it wasn't eating meat, she couldn't get a proper look at its teeth. It could easily take a bite out of her if it was a wild denhare.