“My horses aren’t for slaves or serfs so piss off,” he said before Vavius had even opened his mouth. Vavius bristled at the man’s attitude.
“Well then, it’s a good job we’re neither then isn’t it,” he replied menacingly. The stable owner scowled and gripped the shovel in a two-handed grip.
“You look like shit, so you must be shit. Piss. Off.”
Despite his anger, Vavius tapped into Joy and reached into the man’s mind.
“You will give us two of your best horses. Or, I will hurt you,” he said with a menacing smile.
The stable owner flinched as Vavius trawled the man’s mind. He could sense everything. The man’s hopes, dreams and of course his fears. Latching onto those, Vavius brought them to fore. The man’s eyes widened in terror and a wet patch formed in his trousers where he pissed himself. The stable master groaned and Vavius eased his grip. With a gasp, the man fell to his knees, now a quivering mess.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Skit muttered disapprovingly.
Vavius chuckled, striding past the sobbing stable master. Inside the stable were three horses. One was already saddled and ready for travel. He took the animal’s reigns and walked it outside.
“Get on,” he commanded.
For a moment Skit considered defying him but one look at the blubbering mess of the stable master made him think better of it. He climbed onto the horse’s back while Vavius returned to the stable and saddled another mount.
“Where are we going?” Skit asked nervously. He already knew the answer.
Vavius trotted his mount over to him.
“We’re going to go get that cypher. And then my old friend you’re going to take me to the Temple.”
*
Garen ducked into the shadow of the alleyway located across the street from the stables. The two men on the horses had changed little in appearance despite him not setting eyes on them for years. The tall straight-backed man with the sharp black beard and long hair was Vavius, he was sure of it. He closed his eyes and dulled his presence as much as he possibly could, he couldn’t risk being detected. He peaked around the corner and sighed in relief as the two cantered down the street towards the city gates.
He and Cleo had arrived in Caspia only a few hours earlier in the hope of catching a ship to take them across the Dividing Sea and to the Eastern Imperium. The Bound across the countryside had been gruelling and signs of the continuing Liberator uprising had been evident in every village they’d passed through. Some had been completely abandoned, others utterly destroyed by conflict. Quickly he made his way toward the docks, his grey cloak allowing him to blend into the mass of humanity that packed the cobbled streets. He spotted Cleo in a heated argument with a short elderly man who was waving his arms about.
“-telling ya missy it isn’t safe to cross the sea with all the pirates about,” the man complained.
Cleo rolled her eyes and dismissed him with an elegantly gloved hand. Garen hurried to her.
“Silly little man,’ she muttered as the man she’d been arguing with limped away towards a nearby tavern. At seeing Garen she frowned. “What’s the matter with you? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think I may have,” Garen replied. He was still in shock at seeing Skit. They had thought the Gifted long dead.
“Vavius is here. I saw him and I think Skit at the southern gate.”
Cleo’s face paled at his words. Skit had been like a father to her. He had been the one who had trained her in her abilities, had taught her how to use her wits rather than brawn to best her foes. She, like Garen, had thought the man dead.
“Are you certain? Skit is- I mean we all saw him fall how can he be alive?”
“I don’t know, but I swear to you it was them. We should hurry to the gatehouse and see if we can tail them.”
Cleo nodded slowly; she was in shock at the news.
“I’ll follow them. You get back to Olandis and tell Kasdar the news. Tell him that I am tracking them and that I will send updates when I can.”
“It’s too dangerous Cleo, I sho-”
Cleo stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips.
“I’m going. Besides you’re too old for such a job,’ she said with a mischievous smile. “Do as I say. I’ll be ok. Go!”
Reluctantly he let her go and watched her disappear into the crowds. With a sigh, he walked back towards the city’s western gate and prepared himself for the long journey back to Olandis.
***
Chapter 11.
The lights from Lord Wendall’s estate glinted in the distance. Vavius smiled at the sight. His old ally had not fled the chaos engulfing the countryside. At seeing the lights, Skit stirred.
“Why are we here?” he asked nervously. Desperate to recover some of his strength he’d slept through much of the journey from Caspia. Vavius had taken them on a route that avoided the main roads. In the backcountry, they’d only encountered a handful of refugees. In the distance, they had seen plumes of smoke rising lazily into the sky, indicating that this part of the Imperium had not escaped the recent fighting.
Vavius turned his head and looked at him with a knowing smile.
“Don’t be afraid Skit. Wendall’s days of torturing ended long ago.”
His words gave Skit little comfort. Nineteen years previously, Wendal had served at the Supreme’s right hand as one of her most trusted advisors. His position of High Interrogator had made him one of the most dangerous men alive.
“I’m amazed the monster is still alive,” Skit spat.
“The Supreme spared him, allowing him to live out his days in disgraced seclusion. Such treatment of course only made him a natural ally. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you again.”
Skit shuddered. The scars from his encounter with the Lord were still there, covering all parts of his broken body. For a heartbeat, he considered spurring his horse into a gallop and escaping, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed the notion. Vavius could outrun any horse, the only reason they were using the animals now was because of his own weakness. The days of Bounding were long over for Skit. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to meet the man who had tortured him almost to the point of death. There was one point of comfort for him, however. He had never talked. He’d beaten the bastard.
*
Wendal embraced Vavius like a long-lost friend.
“After your last letter, I feared the worst my old friend.”
Vavius chuckled and took the glass of wine offered to him by one of Wendal’s servants. The two walked through Wendal’s manor. Skit following close behind. He looked around nervously but saw only a rich man’s house.
“I had a few close encounters, but I am pleased to say that my trip to Larkan and the Asylum were both successful,” Vavius said as Wendal led the way into a sitting room. A large fireplace dominated one wall, the flickering flames within creating shadows. With a sigh, Vavius sank into one of the room’s comfortable chairs and Wendal did likewise. Skit stayed standing, his heart racing.
Wendal leant forward in his armchair, excitement in his eyes.
“You did it then? Made contact with the Larkans?”
Vavius nodded.
“I did. Despite what they say, the brutes aren’t as stupid as we think. Their King, Umbral was very open to the idea of invading the Imperium. My assurances that the Supreme will be distracted elsewhere were very well received.”
Wendal shook his head in disbelief marvelling at his friends’ abilities to convince.
“And that other piece of business is concluded I assume. The old wretch can lead you to the Temple?” Wendal asked gesturing to Skit.
That question caused a frown to cross Vavius’s face.
“Yes and no. The map can only be read with a special cypher. I know where one is, but it will not be easy getting it. The only one still in existence is inside the Venerable Chamber Archives in Olandis.”
Wendal whistled in surprise at the news.
“That will indeed be tricky,” he said tapping his chin in thought. “I still have contacts in the Chamber, give me a few days and I might be able to get you inside. Olandis is a dangerous place these days even to an Empowered One.”
“Oh?”
“The Chamber has the city on near lockdown. They’re terrified of a Liberator uprising. Last I heard, its Seekers roam the night eliminating anyone suspected of fermenting rebellion. And then, of course, there are those stories of the Hat Man.”
“Hat Man?” Vavius asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I’m sure it’s just an urban legend but there are rumours of someone killing Seekers. The few sightings there have been all say the attacker wears a top hat.”
The two laughed.
“The foolishness of the slave class,” Wendal said.
The lord looked at Skit.
“So, Skit it’s been what? Nineteen years since we last met. You know, if I was a lesser man, I’d shoot you where you stand.”
Skit fidgeted nervously. Terrible memories flashed into his mind, memories of the time the man sat in his comfy chair pulled out his fingernails or branded him with a molten hot iron.
“Do it. I’d rather die than help you bastards,” he replied lamely. He wanted his words to be defiant, instead, they came out meek. He was tired.
Wendal rose from his chair, his hands knotting into fists. Vavius stood too and shook his head in warning.
“Do you know what the Supreme did when I couldn’t get the answers out of you? She took my wife and ripped her mind into pieces as punishment. She’s been bed-bound ever since,” Wendal snarled unable to hide the anger in his voice.
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Skit muttered back.
Wendal’s face flushed red. He hurled his glass striking Skit in the forehead and dropping him to the ground. Blood poured from the wound to spill onto the plush carpet.
Vavius stepped in between the two men and placed a calming hand on Wendal’s chest.
“I need him Wendal. And I need to be able to trust that you won’t kill him. I need somewhere to stow him whilst I go to Olandis. Can I trust you?” he said, slowly and calmly.
With a sigh, Wendal nodded.
“I- I- of course,” he replied.
Wendal slumped back into his armchair and stared into the flames.
“You have rooms upstairs,” he muttered.
*
Vavius took Skit by the arm and dragged him out of the room. He shoved him up the manor house’s staircase, down a corridor and into the rooms set aside for them.
As Vavius was about to push Skit inside and close the door, the elder Gifted spoke.
“He doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know that the child was yours, does he?”
Vavius froze. His face flushed red with Anger. He shoved Skit and sent the old man crashing to the floor. Skit chuckled.
“You really are a bastard Vavius. Even your allies don’t know the truth about you. I bet old Wendal doesn’t even know that you and the Supreme were lovers, that the child you took from her palace that night was yours.”
Vavius glared at the old man his eye twitching.
“He doesn’t know. And he never will. What does it matter? That child, born with the powers of both an Empowered One and the Supreme herself in its veins was an abomination.”
Skit cackled. The sound caused Vavius to shudder as a chill ran down his spine.
“Why are you laughing?” he demanded.
Skit slowly got to his feet all semblance of humour now gone from his blood covered face.
“The child lives Vavius. You told me to take it and kill it. I did not. It was just a small precious life and you wanted me to murder it. That was the day I knew what you were. A monster,” he said as he tore a piece of cloth from his already tattered shirt and bound the wound on his forehead.
Vavius’s mind raced at the old man’s words. He took an involuntary step backwards. He reached out with the Power, seeking anything that would verify what Skit had just told him. Elian’s face flashed into his mind’s eye. The boy’s eyes, the shape of his nose, the expression he made when concentrating. It couldn’t be; and yet there was no denying it. The boy was his son.
“Elian,” he gasped.
Skit had lied to him all those years ago. Everything now made sense.
“Yin knew, didn’t he? That’s why he left to live as a hermit in the north,” he asked.
Skit nodded.
“Do you not remember that night? The night your son was born. The night you tried to kill a defenceless child?”
*
Nineteen Years previously….
Screams of a woman in the throes of agony echoed down the hallways of the Supreme’s palace. Outside the weather was foul with wind and rain battering the windows. The quakes had put the whole city on alert, except they were no natural phenomena. It was the Supreme and she was giving birth.
A younger Vavius walked slowly towards the room where the screams emanated. He trembled with fear. Finally, he reached the room's door. Stood outside like silent guardians were two Hollowed, their eyeless faces betraying nothing in the way of emotion. At seeing him they stepped aside and pushed open the door.
In the centre of the room was a huge four-poster bed. Servants hurried to and fro as a midwife barked orders at them. The room was lit by lanterns and bright flashes of lightning from the tempest raging outside poured in through large glass windows.
Lying on the bed her eyes fixed on the ceiling her chest rising and falling was the Supreme. Her always immaculate blonde hair was a mess with some stuck to her sweat covered forehead. A nurse whispered into her ear and she looked at Vavius. She smiled. Inside his mind, Vavius screamed.
“Come to me my love,” she said with arm outstretched. He walked to the bed and took her hand in his.
“It will be a boy I just know it,” she winced as another contraction lanced through her body.
Vavius sat beside her, watching the scene unfold. He closed his eyes doing his best to hide his emotions from her. He had tried to resist her, but she was the Supreme. Their relationship was a strange one, it wasn't loving, of that he was certain. He’d thought about it countless times since he had come to her. Had he done so willingly? He couldn’t remember. He admired her power, her resolve. To the point where he yearned to stand at her side as her equal. His plan to learn of her secrets in order to overthrow her had been undone the moment he had set eyes on her. His thoughts were interrupted as the Supreme gripped his hand tightly. She let out a final scream and the room was filled with the cries of a new-born. The midwife at the end of the bed reached down with a blanket and lifted the bloody baby from the bed.
Vavius stared at the new life wriggling in the midwife's arms. He knew that a normal man in his situation would have felt unbridled love for the new-born. He, on the other hand, felt terror. In his heart, he knew the child represented the end of his ambitions to stand at the Supreme’s side as an equal. He looked at her. All signs of the birth already gone thanks to her powers. To the nurse’s shock, she straightened her nightgown, swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked without so much as a tremble to the midwife. She took the baby from the midwife’s arms and held it close.
“Welcome to my world my son,” she said softly. She looked at Vavius, her eyes boring into his, a smile on her lips. It was then that Vavius realised that he had been played like the fool he was. There was no love in those big blue eyes, no, there was malice, a look that told him far more than any words could convey. He held her gaze and narrowed his eyes. Had she known all along what he had intended? From the sense of foreboding, he felt in his gut she had. The Supreme handed the boy back to the midwife.
“So,’ she began turning her attention to Vavius, ‘you have succeeded where others over the centuries have failed. You have given me a child possessing the combined power of an Empowered One and myself. For that, you shall be rewarded.”
Vavius held his ground, watchi
ng her as she walked around the bed.
“How do you know that? We only come into our powers after an Emergence,” he replied.
“You are correct. But this child is different from those that have come before. I can feel it.”
Vavius frowned at her words. The Supreme had other children?
“I have had many, many children in the three centuries of my life. All daughters. I put each of them through their paces to bring forth their Emergence and only a few succeeded. All disappointed.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Vavius demanded already knowing the answer. His stomach flipped at the sinking feeling.
“Because my dear Vavius I want you to know that you have surpassed my expectations.”
The door to the room opened and in walked a Hollowed, it’s eyeless face fixed upon Vavius. Something about the way the creature stood reminded him of someone. The Supreme took its hand in her own and smiled.
“Not only have you given me a son, but also a new servant. One whose power will make him the first thing my enemies will fear. Which is why I shall spare you from the same fate.”
Vavius stared at the Hollowed in confusion. Then the realisation hit him. The creature had once been a man. His friend. The man he had betrayed in order to gain the Supreme’s confidence. It was Corvan. Now he knew for certain that the rumours were true. Those Empowered Ones that the Supreme captured alive were transformed into the monstrous Hollowed.
The Supreme laughed in delight and clapped her hands together.
“Surrender yourself peacefully my love. You have fulfilled the task I had planned for you. Did you honestly think I would not guess your intentions? You truly believed that by becoming my lover I would have you stand at my side as an equal?” she laughed mockingly at the mere suggestion.
The Temple of Arrival Page 9