Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms

by Michael DeSousa

  “I will go,” she snapped back.

  Fiora straightened her posture, a tight frown forming on her lips. “Then one day you will realize you are all alone and locked out of your own city.” I am already alone, she answered in her mind. But the litany of facts Fiora had presented her, she couldn’t argue. She had been absent lately, but if she could bring everyone together, wouldn’t it be worth it? “Lord Marqs is waiting. Your mother could say no to him. You can not.”

  Zana resisted turning away, feeling an upsurge of emotion with in her. She knew in her mind Fiora was right, but not in her heart. So long as Sig hated the Seven, he would never get Zanf’r, not with out war. But, maybe with aid. That letter already showed she asked and received help from him. The poor outside her city, would if it came to the point she couldn’t help them? A hungry and cold subject was a dangerous subject, looking for help anywhere.

  And Lan, Ad and Mak would love to see Zanf’r pushed against Sig too. Could that be why Mak wanted to see Mother? Hoping Sig would find out? Was this all a game to get her to break Mother’s request. Was she the only one who really cared? And while she dawned on her shoulders the responsibilities and burdens of bringing the kingdom together, if anyone should take advantage and cross her —Zana felt her cheeks flush, but Fiora subdued her emotions with her King-Maker gifts.

  “It isn’t the end of the world, Za’nina,” Fiora said. “Priorities. That’s all. You must learn priorities.” And with that, she knocked twice—

  “Lady Fiora,” Zana whispered, stopping her from opening the door. “How did my mother do it?”

  “Do what, child?”

  “Keep…control.”

  “Through the law of bread and blood.” Law of bread and blood: mercy to the faithful, blood from the heretics. What would any of her hopes matter if she lost the city, her agency, her authority.

  “I must go to my brother tomorrow,” she whispered, again. “But I want you to stay here. Kalpric Rushnik. If he has another demonstration….”

  “He will not,” Fiora replied with a hint of relief in her voice.

  Zana nodded and Fiora opened the door. Gathering herself together, she walked in, seeing the tall thin darker-skinned Count with his black goatee and peppered black hair cut close to his head. He wore all black, the color of his country. How appropriate. His son, too, wore all black, but he looked nothing like his father: a boy barely ten years, very pale skinned, almost sickly, with strong blue eyes reminding her of zircon gems and deep black hair. He sat with his arms crossed, staring listlessly at the table. Lord Marqs stood immediately, but Malek glanced at her through slitted eyes before laboriously rising to his feet.

  “Her Royal Highness, Princess of Zanf’r, Zana Ladress,” Fiora announced.

  “Hello Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you again,” the Count said with obvious practice in his enthusiasm.

  Fiora walked over to her seat, on Zana’s left, glancing up to her circlet —the signal that meant he was lying. Oh Goddess, this will be an enjoyable evening, Zana thought.

  “Pleased to meet you too, Lord Marqs,” she said, sitting herself down to which the three of them sat as well with Malek lingering for moment. At first, Zana thought he had the stubbornness of a child his age, but maybe he was sickly.

  “Refreshments will be serviced soon,” Fiora began, turning to Zana.

  “Oh, good,” Zana took the cue. “While we wait, how was your stay here? Have you seen all the Holy City has to offer?”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” he answered, staring uncomfortably long into her eyes. Why do men do that? Some sort of dominance show, Zana thought, or maybe they believed it was ‘alluring.’ Psychotic, more like it. “I’ve been with Malek’s tutors much of the time. I want to thank you again for allowing him to study here.”

  Zana gave him a pleased smile, not too big as to entice him. “My pleasure. The Schools are always welcomed to those blessed by the Golden Lady.”

  “Then why can’t I learn the martial magics,” Malek sudden sprung to life. “My tutors make me do all kinds of things for them, draw lines, curves, shades and write and use magic they say they can’t even do—”

  “Not now, Maylin,” his father said. “We are her guests. We can talk about that later.”

  “But isn’t it why we’re here,” he said, pouting. “I want to fight. I need to fight.” Fiora gave Zana a glance to right shoulder. The boy was more than serious about what he said.

  But his father gave him a sharp look and Malek crossed his arms, pouting his lips out and frowning deeply.

  “I apologize,” the Count said.

  “It’s fine,” Zana answered. “From what he’s been through, I can understand it.”

  “You won’t let me,” Maylin muttered through his lips. “I already know.”

  Zana chuckled, gloved hand over her mouth. “And how would you already know?”

  He squirmed before admitting, “my magic tells me.”

  “First of all Master Maylin, magic doesn’t work like that,” Zana said. “You have to grow a little older and become a man first. And if you don’t know the difference between the two, you have proved my point.”

  “I’m teaching them,” he shouted. “I have nothing else but fighting to learn!” Zana sat up, taken aback by his sudden outburst. And she wanted children someday? Not like this ill-mannered—

  The Count cleared his throat before saying, “Well, he is gifted.”

  Zana held back a snort. “He’s a boy, Lord Marqs. He’d never pass the psychological tests. His temper proves that. Would you let him use a cannon if he knew how to build one?”

  “Me and my magic will figure it out on our own,” the boy whispered, tightening his arms around him. “Always shadowed, never again.”

  “Shadowed?” Zana perked up. “What does you mean ‘shadowed’?”

  The Count’s face turned somber. “It’s how we describe someone we suspect the Coming Shadows is planning to murder. That they are being shadowed. We believed he was the intended target all those years ago. But, not here; he’s safe here. Yet the scars of that night remain.” Was that what Mother meant! She believe she was being shadowed by the Coming Shadows—

  Zana felt Fiora tap her leg. Yes, yes. I’ll pay attention. As well as she could. It had to be what Mother meant…at least, a hope. And when she invited Siga that day, she wrote ‘shadowed appearance.’ What could that mean?

  Mendeleyev Von Mendevoch

  “Genius, Mend, really genius,” Mend whispered to himself. “When my own stupidity even surprises myself, I know I’m really screwed up.” Nothing, absolutely nothing worked out. Josie and those other two were hiding somewhere on the island —probably thinking up all sorts of ways they were going to carve him up and send the pieces back to Roach. Roe slept soundly in the next bed with tubes of blue liquid attached to her arm. They had restrained her with leather straps around her ankles, wrists, and waist as if she had the strength to lift even her eyelids. Mend would know. He survived exposure too. Oddly, he felt sort of proud of himself for surviving. Few did—

  “Damn it all,” Mend cursed. “I can’t just sit here thinking how awesome I am. Not when I screwed this up so badly.” But, what could he do? Carry that cute sleeping assassin demon of death over his shoulders, out the door, and down to the shore? ‘She just needs some air, fellas,’ he would explain to all the gawkers. Mend gave it serious thought before shaking his head. “No, they’ll find me. Josie and the island guards. Everyone will…find me…all at once. Is that bad? Maybe I can used that —Yes, that’s bad.”

  Why should he care anymore, anyway? He’d just make things worse, and end up somehow sinking the entire damn island. In the morning, Sera —or rather the ever expressive Cyne— would show up with that letter he was supposed to deliver to Glen Gallegos with payment. Roe looked like she’d be asleep for a few days anyway, so Siga’s mind raping would have to wait. There would be plenty of time for Josie and her two grunts to think up a plan to save her. “OK, Me
nd,” he said, pumping his fist across his chest. “Here’s the plan: Forget them. Leave. Josie’s cover is blown. They’ll grab Roe before she wakes. No need to risk your life for ingrates anymore.”

  Roe stirred, groaning.“Who are you?”

  Mend slapped his hands over his mouth. Damn it, Mend, don’t talk so loud. “Uh, no one’s—”

  “You’re here again,” she mumbled, her eyes shut and relaxed. He exhaled. Sleeping, good. “She needs my help?” Mend’s ears perked; odd dream to have. “Eventide needs my help? How…” Mend snorted. These Shadows could never take a break, could they? Even in their dreams, they obsessed over their goddess. “Where is he?” A he, now? Go on, Roe, dream of rescuing your goddess and all the well-endowed men with marble-scalped chests she’ll reward you with. Just let me sleep! Mend sunk into his bed, pulled the covers over around his head and closed his eyes. Hopefully, she’d stop soon. “Mend?”

  Mend jumped, twisting around to see if Roe had awakened. But she appeared asleep, though she wrinkled her nose muttering, “why is Mend here?” Dreaming of him? Proof there was an Almighty, a small measure of sweet justice in an otherwise cruel world, and judging by the disdain written on her face, it wasn’t a very good dream. Good. Maybe at least there, he’d get the last word on something. He sunk back into his bed, trying to get himself comfortable. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he’d be off this island.

  “Why should I care where he came from?”

  Mend shot his eyes open. What did she say? Where he was from? Roe’s face relaxed, her breathing slowed, but his own quickened. Did he just imagine that? Roe knew where he was from? That bitch lied to him all these years? Did Josie know too? Was this just some big joke they held over him?

  He grumbled, his face flushing with heat. The strong emotion surprised him, but so what if he was angry about it. He didn’t care where he was from, but keeping it a secret after all the work he did for them over the years? That was just wrong. Besides, Roach raised him; she’s as close to him as any family could be. He moaned. “Can’t believe I just thought that.” Still, Roe holding out on him pissed him off. Not that he really cared where he was from, he told himself…again. No, but the principle of it.

  “That’s it, I’m staying,” he said to himself. “Sorry, Roach. I haven’t messed up things here enough yet. I have ideas I want to try out.” He had to know, if just for curiosity’s sake. Besides, Roe didn’t know what he really looked like. This could be fun.

  Rowena Lions

  Roe floated in a black void of her dreamworld unable to move. Her waist felt as if a rope had been tied around it, her ankles and wrists pulled apart, making her feel vulnerable. Usually, this would cause her to panic and then the dream would proceed to explore the more darker places of her imagination. But, after having to relive her brother’s murder, going through the hard work of messing up Lord Salvador Von Sago’s ambitions again, and watching him get eaten alive by flame-wardens for failing the One-King, Roe felt emotionally drained, or was it exhaustion? She couldn’t tell, but she did know she was lucid dreaming again. Maybe that voice would—

  Have you returned?

  “I never left.”

  You went off dreaming. I couldn’t reach you.

  “No, I was awake. I saw two of my comrades. I saw—” She remembered. She had woken up on a rolling bed, screaming about that bastard Count. People were restraining her. ’Doctor,’ she heard one say. They wheeled her into a room with two windows over looking a city of metal and smoke. Josie, thank the Goddess, was there too, acting as her nurse. She remembered seeing them administer Siga’s remedy into her, poking her left arm with tubes. She was going to be alright; she made it, and she’d live. Success! She smiled in her dream. “Everything will be alright now!”

  Everything is not alright. You are unconscious next to him.

  Next to him? She remembered the two windowed room from her vision early. “Mend?”

  Yes.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why is Mend here?” Oh, right. She remembered Rochelle asking her to find out what happened to him on the Golden Island. Josie was still here too. Now that Roe had arrived, all of them could leave for the main land. She wasn’t looking forward to having to spend a few days shipboard with that idiot, but if it meant fulfilling what Rochelle had asked of her then she just had to get it over with.

  I believe he’s been sent here to finish me off. He hails from someplace north, near or within your country.

  “Why would I care where he’s from?”

  Because he’s been in contact with the one who holds Eventide captive.

  “Captive? Who could keep a goddess’ spirit captive? That’s ridiculous. And no knows where Eventide is, either. That why we have to do what we must! For the us to summon Eventide to come rest with in the Veiled Goddess Shard. To have a land blessed like everyone else!”

  What you believe about our nature isn’t correct.

  “Yea, as if you would know. The Golden Lady, the Red Mountain, they have their gods watching over them. Why can’t we have one helping us! Even the Empire has Lairgor within the Sea Roar—” She froze. This voice claimed to be him, Lairgor, the god of the Sea Roar.

  I am him. A piece of divinity spoke to her? Lairgor had awakened the Sea Roar, so he was present on the island, as much as Randagor was present in the Red Mountain when she was exposed to him. But…

  “You…asked me to seek out a Mister Blue.”

  I am him too.

  “You’re not making much sense,” she said, imagining herself crossing her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

  I had to fool him. So I split my being into two. He ambushed us and killed one of me and half of my spirit was sent back to its anchor. The other half remained incarnated. Trust in what I say, I am Mister Blue and the Sea Roar. There isn’t much time, I sense he’s trying to wake you. Come seek me out and bring this Mend. I must know what he knows. I will make myself ready.

  “No, I’m leaving the island. I’ve done my job—”

  If you want to save your goddess, come to me. I am underneath the Sea Roar.

  “But I—” A hand gripped her wrist and she opened her eyes to a darkened room. Before she could gather her bearings a voice sounded,

  “We gotta go, Roe. Or I’m dead…well, we’ll both be dead since I doubt you’d care about my death, I’d just as well include you too.”

  She recognized the voice right away. “Mend,” she crooked out through her dry throat. She sounded like a mix of a rat’s squeak and a bullfrog, but at least she was awake.

  “Oh fantastic! Just when I thought I could have a little fun.”

  “What’s…oh, my head.” Her head swam as if it was a jar of slashing water. She went to massage her forehead, but her hands were restrained. “My hands, untie me.” She searched the darkness only able to see the orange glow filtering in through the windows. Strange, grotesque shapes silhouetted against the light.

  “Uh…no,” Mend’s voice came from below her. Was he hiding underneath her bed?

  “What? No? Who the hell do you think you are tell me ‘no’? When Josie gets back—”

  “She’s already set on killing me. Trust me, I know, but shut up a moment while I figure this out.”

  “I can’t see a thing.”

  Mend lit a palm-light and let it float up to the ceiling. Roe’s eyes widened to take in the horrific scene before her. The walls and ceilings were awash with blood and dripped down in long oozing cords of veins and muscle. Sinew, muscle and entrails clung to the walls with sticky residue. What looked like an eye sat on the windowsill and a severed hand hung by tendons in front of the nearest window.

  Roe squirmed, pulling at her restraints. “Get me out of here—”

  Mend’s hand clasped on her mouth, bloody and still warm. Had he done that? He couldn’t have. Mend couldn’t even let rats die in a barn fire! A bit of the ‘blood’ seeped to her mouth…. Dirt, gritty taste mixed in with a sourness? Very sour. Tasted more like beets and pomegranate
juice? Then she noticed the hanging hand had fingers too short with the little finger twice as long as the thumb. The sinew looked more like thin pasta, muscle resembled ground beef, and the “eye” clearly looked like a wrapped fried egg on a ball or rock.

  “I’m going to let go,” he whispered. “Please be quiet.”

  As soon as he did, she sighed. “What’s with the freak show, Mend?”

  “Didn’t fool you, did I? It’s so they think I’m dead.”

  “And you want them to think you’re made out of breakfast too?”

  “It’s not for the imperials. It’s for your crew when they see through the window.”

  “They’re not after you, idiot. Your ‘mother hen’ asked her to save your ass. We’ll help you escape.”

  “Escape,” he chuckled. “Not after what I did.”

  Roe frowned. “Did you anger Josie? What did you do?”

  “I’m not saying, but you’re in danger too. In a few hours, it’ll be quiet enough for us to sneak—”

  “Why am I in danger? I’m meant to be here. You are not.”

  “Uh… Josie, she accidentally let your plans slip to the imperials.”

  “Really.” Roe pressed her lips to a line. “I really doubt that.”

  “Then don’t believe me, but I’m going to get you to the shore. You can wait for them there.”

  “No… I can’t,” she replied. Lairgor —Mister Blue— said if she wanted to save Eventide, she’d have to seek him out…as absurd as that sounded. “I need to find someone on the island.”

  “Josie and the others will find you—”

  “I have to find Mister Blue.” Mend went suspiciously quiet for a few moments. “You…know someone with that name?”

  “Yea,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve seen him….well, not with my eyes, but, yea I saw him.”

  “OK, I’m not going to ask what you mean by that, but if you know where he is,” she said, trying to loosen her restrains by pulling at them. “Then tell me—” She remembered Mister Blue wanted to meet Mend too; he might not tell her about Eventide without him there. “On second though, bring me to him.”