The Key of Amatahns

by Elisabeth Wheatley

  Chapter Nine

  The arrows whizzed toward the beast and buried themselves in its seemingly impenetrable hide. The monster yelped and staggered sideways. A shout rose from someone hidden in the trees and another volley ensued.

  Janir couldn’t help feeling sorry for the creature as it cried out and squealed in pain. The beast stumbled and fell to the ground, twitching and whimpering. Arrows bristled from it like the quills of a hedgehog.

  Janir glanced up to see warriors in dark leather armor step from the trees. Their chainmail clinked softly as they advanced upon the two companions. Several of the men marched past the pair of intrepid survivors to checked that the beast was finished.

  “Is it dead?” the leader called, surprisingly young to be commanding men.

  In response to his question, the monster struggled to raise its head, groaning. Quick as a flash, it wrapped its tongue around one of the soldiers and dragged him toward its gaping maw. Janir looked away, not wanting to watch. She heard shouts and a shrieking wail like that of her rods as the creature was set upon by Argetallams.

  This final act of defiance ended quickly with a particularly loud shriek and then silence. Satisfied that his orders were carried out, the commander turned his steely gaze to Janir and Karile. He was well tanned and muscled, bearing the signs of long and strenuous hours spent outdoors.

  It had been seven years since Janir and the leader had last seen one another, but she still recognized him. There was something about his presence, an indescribable essence that undeniably declared him—she couldn’t understand or explain it.

  “Oh…dear,” Karile said woodenly, as if he wanted to say other words, but didn’t feel that they would be appropriate.

  “Karile, no matter what happens, don’t—”

  “Silence!” The Argetallam surveyed them for several seconds as if he were heating their fear, the same way one might warm a drink on a cold day.

  “Where is the Key, boy?” It was strange to hear him addressing Karile as ‘boy’ when he could hardly be a year or two older.

  Karile shook his head, pursing his lips nervously. “Key? What Key?”

  “Don’t play games with me, enchanter. We know you found where it is.”

  Those few words were equivalent to a vivid description of torture methods to Janir. She knew she was trembling, staring up at the leader slack jawed. She also knew from what she remembered of him that her reaction was giving him great pleasure.

  So they had escaped the mazag and run straight to the awaiting arms of the Argetallams. There was irony in that somewhere, but Janir would let someone else laugh at it.

  “I am sure the tender touch of a karkaton can loosen your tongue,” the young Argetallam said.

  Karile gulped and didn’t reply.

  Inside, Janir was thinking frantically, hoping in vain that maybe if she thought the words hard enough, Karile would hear them. Please don’t use my name. Please don’t use my name.

  “Alright,” Karile hesitantly began, his voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. “I have it and I will help you find the crystal chamber if…” he hesitated for a very long time, while the Argetallam commander seemed terribly amused by the whole spectacle.

  “Just let Janir go and I’ll help you with whatever you want,” Karile bravely offered.

  Angry that he had used her name and confessed to having the Key, but very much impressed with his bravery, Janir stared at Karile. She felt like she suddenly owed him something and it made her even more uncomfortable.

  Contrary to her fervent hopes, the young Argetallam did recognize the name. Like a whiplash, his gaze instantly switched from the enchanter to her.

  “Janir?” he repeated. “What a very…uncommon name.” There was almost a threat in his tone.

  She swallowed hard and looked to the ground. Maybe if she just didn’t make eye contact…

  “My lord Lucan,” called one of the Argetallams. “Shall I deal with the prisoners?” The warrior held a black rod, just like Janir’s, in a loose, casual grip.

  Lucan raised a hand to decline, irritation creasing his forehead. “What are you doing here, girl?” he sharply demanded.

  “Oh, she’s just a friend,” Karile interjected. “She’s along for the ride, really. Bit of a liability. Asks lots of stupid questions. More trouble than she’s worth. If you ask—”

  “Silence!” Lucan lashed out a kick that clipped Karile in the chin.

  The enchanter’s head snapped back and he whimpered, clutching at his mouth.

  “Karile!” Janir reached for him, but Lucan stomped on her hand.

  “Who are you, girl? You’re not an enchantress, there is nothing of magic about you. You’ve never been spotted before, you’ve simply appeared since we tracked the enchanter to the mountains.” He twisted his heel into the top of her hand and it was all she could do not to cry out. “But it’s him we want. Now be a good girl, answer me honestly, and we might let you go—who are you?”

  Janir kept her head down. Karile might know what she was, but he did not know who she was. If Lucan learned who she was, this would be so, so much worse.

  “My lord.” One of the Argetallams toed something in the grass.

  Lucan removed his boot from Janir’s hand, abandoning her as if she were a broken toy. He searched where the other Argetallam had indicated, frowning in confusion. “What’s this?”

  He picked up her black rod, wincing. A low, distant drone sounded from the rod and a faint black bruise formed on his hand. The young Argetallam glared at Janir, the wheels in his mind turning hastily.

  Striding swiftly to her, he held the rod in front of her face, mere inches away. “Where did you get this?” he demanded. He seized her arm and shook her violently. “Where did you get this?!”

  Janir was terrified. She could risk his wrath or guarantee her death. Perhaps if she pretended to be stupid…

  She wanted her karkaton back, for whatever good it would do her. Some innate possessiveness itched inside her mind, aching to reclaim what was hers.

  “Let me tell you something you may not know about karkaton,” Lucan purred. “They are made with several things, one of which is the blood of the Argetallam they are to serve.”

  Janir kept her head down as she had done for so many years of her childhood. It was like she was reliving every bad memory of Adasha in a moment.

  “Because of that, with very few exceptions, only the Argetallam they were made for and their close kin can wield them safely.” He brought the rod just a little closer to her face. Janir wanted to pull away, but was trapped.

  It was like Lucan saw that she was ignorant of her heritage and meant to flaunt it in her face. “Now, a karkaton will not harm the one they were made for unless the presiding Argetallam or the first heir is wielding it.” He leaned down, close enough to whisper without his other warriors hearing. “For your sake, you’d best hope this hurts.”

  He pressed the rod against her cheek. A shriek filled the air and Lucan let off a yelp, leaping backwards and throwing the karkaton as far as he could out of reflex. He stumbled, cursing and shaking out his hand while the other Argetallams pointed their karkaton at Janir and one went to help his prince.

  They asked what was wrong and seemed ready to attack Janir at any second, but he didn’t give the order. He didn’t speak for a long moment, not even blinking as he nursed his hand and gaped at Janir in disbelief.

  “It’s you,” was all Lucan could manage. “The Lord Argetallam used your blood to make them.”

  “Used my blood?”

  Her brother quickly recovered himself or he was excellent at hiding surprise. Not for one more second did he question it. Perhaps he could recognize her as she did him. Perhaps he saw no point in denying what was plain to them both.

  “Yes. You don’t recall him cutting you and soaking something with your blood?” Lucan’s ridicule and mockery were as clear as words.

  Her memories from her time in Adasha were hazy, especially cl
ose to the time she left. The Lord Argetallam might have done that, for all she knew.

  “My lord, what do you mean?” asked the head Argetallam, the one who had offered to deal with them earlier. “Who is the traitor?”

  Lucan’s surprise had worn off, but he still ignored his warrior. “I can use the enchanter to help me find the crystal chamber for our father’s client. As for you,” he turned a malicious look in Janir’s direction, “it will be nice to again have a playmate.”

  He seemed to be accepting this gracefully and without question. She reappeared after eight years and he wasn’t even batting an eye. Even if he could recognize her as she did him, it made Janir certain that something else must be at work here, something she didn’t understand. If anything, Lucan seemed pleased.

  “My lord, who is this?” the strange Argetallam asked once again.

  “This?” Lucan motioned to the girl at his feet with disdain. “It would seem this is Janir Caersynn Argetallam, my elder sister—well…” He made an offhand gesture. “If being born three hours earlier qualifies as elder.”

  That was one thing that had always upset Janir—four hours younger, three and a half hours younger, and she would never have been faced with the sibling rivalry that had plagued her early years.

  “Weakling,” Lucan spat. “And traitor.”

  With that, he picked her karkaton back up and marched over to Karile. “Now, enchanter. You have the Key. Where do we take it?”

  Karile sheltered the silver egg protectively under his chest. The Argetallam prince seemed perfectly content to let him hang onto it for now. After all, he could take it away with a flick of his wrist.

  “Answer me, enchanter,” Lucan snapped.

  “My lord, perhaps someone more experienced should—”

  “Stay out of it, Mortahn Camak,” Lucan growled, raising Janir’s karkaton threateningly. She wondered why he didn’t use his own. Did he not have his own? “Have the men break camp and hunt for some supper, but leave two of them with me.”

  At a first glance, Janir thought she must be mistaken, but a second look revealed that Camak had the pale complexion and sandy hair of a Brevian. In some ways, it was strange to see an Argetallam who had her same coloring, but that was where the similarities ended. Camak wore a hard expression like a plate of armor and there was something about the way he moved and spoke that made Janir feel she would not want to cross him.

  Lucan never once took his attention off Karile. As Camak repeated the order and the men moved to obey, Lucan crouched before the prone enchanter.

  “Tell me, or this will become very, very painful.”

  “Just leave him—” A booted foot jabbed into Janir’s side before she could finish. The Argetallam standing over her sneered contemptuously as she struggled to breathe.

  “You.” Lucan jabbed a karkaton in her direction. “I don’t know what role you play in this and I don’t care. The enchanter is the one with the knowledge I want and you will save your words for explaining to the Lord Argetallam. He will want to deal with you himself and I will not deny him the pleasure, understood?” Without waiting for a response, Lucan returned to Karile.

  Janir made a weak effort at speaking, but she still couldn’t draw breath.

  Lucan paid her absolutely no heed. It made her feel insignificant like nothing else. “Where do we take the Key?” Lucan punctuated each word with a clear, measured tone.

  Karile gulped. “I don’t know.”

  Lucan did not believe him. He jabbed the karkaton into Karile’s shoulder.

  A scream ripped from Karile’s mouth and he thrashed on the ground in agony. It was worse than the cries of the mazag, worse than any scream Janir had ever heard.

  “Stop!” she cried, scrambling for him. “Please, stop!”

  A heavy foot slammed between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the ground. She tried to shove it off, but it was pointless.

  Lucan released Karile and fixed him in a cold stare. “Now I shall ask again. Where is the crystal chamber?”

  Karile coughed and shivered on the ground, clutching at his shoulder and whimpering. “I don’t know,” he moaned.

  With a sigh of annoyance, Lucan jabbed the rod against his neck, just below his ear. “Where is it?!” Lucan demanded over the karkaton’s wails and Karile’s shrieks.

  Janir tried to writhe out from under the foot holding her down, but to no avail. “You’ll kill him!” she cried. “Stop!”

  Lucan did, but not because she had asked him. “This is the last time I shall ask you,” Lucan growled. “You had best answer me honestly or I will hand you over to one of my mortahns.” He motioned threateningly to the other Argetallam warriors. “Where is the crystal chamber?” Each word was clear and concise, articulate and calm.

  “I don’t know,” Karile whimpered. “I don’t know!”

  Lucan raised the karkaton and Karile shrank back.

  “I don’t know!” he screamed. “I swear I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know…once we got there, I could probably piece things together, but…” Tears were trickling down Karile’s cheeks and Janir felt a pang of empathy.

  He was just a boy, he shouldn’t have to go through this. For all that he had lied and deceived her, he didn’t deserve this.

  “Lucan, please,” Janir pleaded. “He doesn’t know, you have to believe—” The boot in her back twisted and she was forced into silence.

  Lucan shot her a hard glare at the mention of his name. She had a feeling she was lucky he couldn’t use her karkaton on her. He returned to the enchanter at his feet, contemplating Karile’s tears and desperate clutching at the egg.

  “Perhaps you don’t know,” he decided.

  Karile gave no response. He lay prone and vulnerable on the ground, whimpering.

  “No matter, I know where we can find someone who does.” Lucan snapped his chin to the Argetallams standing over them. “Bind the prisoners. Secure them and then help set up to the camp.” He snatched the egg from Karile and marched away without another word.

  The Argetallams stiffly inclined their heads before doing as they were told. One grabbed Karile and the other grabbed Janir and they marched them to a pair of thick saplings near where the campfire was being built.

  “Karile!” Janir tried to reach for him, but her wrists were yanked back and lashed around the tree. “Karile, are you alright?”

  He shook his head weakly. “The Key…” he mumbled. “They have the Key…”