The thought of Liam gave her strength. Children? Of course. She was the Vetra Ta’raa. It was a dreary, disjointed realisation that she had something to live for.
“I feel so helpless,” Kaila said, shaking her head softly, patting Lyra’s hand. “I’ll never allow myself to feel this way again. I’m going to spend time with Maurious, and learn all he knows about healing. Then the next time you are in trouble, I’ll be able to help you.” Kaila tried to smile through her tears.
“I think you should,” said Lyra. “You will make a fine physician.”
“Ah, how touching,” came a voice from the woods, followed by footsteps and the sound of brush against linen. Argus emerged from the darkness then, and produced a vial.
“It was you,” said Rhemus, with a venom in his voice Lyra had never heard before.
“What is it you think I’ve done, Rhemus?” replied Argus.
“It was you who stirred the snakes to kill the Mikraino, and Lyra, too. It is you who have turned my people against me.”
Argus reached out to Lyra. She tried to lift her arms to stop him from administering whatever was in the vial, but her arms were too weak. She only managed to turn her head and keep her mouth closed defiantly.
“It’s all right, Lyra,” said Kaila, stroking her head. “He wants to keep you alive. I’m not sure what he has in mind for us, but right now you need help.”
Lyra nodded wearily and accepted the contents of the vial.
“This will keep her alive for a little while,” Argus explained, “but she will need more of this anti-venom. I have to take her back to our camp.”
“No!” screamed Kaila, and leapt at Argus. He smacked her hard, knocking her over.
Lyra tried to swing at him, but it was no use. She looked at Rhemus. He looked murderous.
“No, Rhemus,” she said to him. “I’ll be all right. Don’t do anything more.” Somehow she knew that whatever she would suffer at the hands of Arconus would be less than what Rhemus would suffer if he killed again.
Then they heard more rustling from the forest. Four soldiers emerged from the brush, two of them bearing a stretcher.
“Well done, men,” Argus told them. “Good timing. Bind the woman to the stretcher. She will revive shortly, and seize the Mikraino.”
Lyra laughed at them. Rhemus and Kaila were already gone.
~Æ~
Dantun guided Bryntal through the foliage as fast as he was able. The still smarting memory of Tienden’s death was seared into his mind. It confused him and angered him. He felt his world once again thrown into turmoil. For all his time adjusting to his new life and his eyes of black, Dantun still lacked a clear sense of who he was or what he must do. He did have a clear sense, however, of obligation to his people. Although Bandalanu’s thoughts, ideas, instincts and feelings were passed on to him, as they were to all of his people, they were indistinct and hazy. He understood his condition a little better than his companion, but only a few things were clear to him. The need to protect his people was pre-eminent. That, and a fear of Rhemus. Rhemus had tricked them, lured them in with talk of peace and love and understanding, and then he killed Tienden. Dantun was furious with himself for being so irresponsible and unwary. He would never be so foolish again.
Dantun had also sensed a deeper purpose in Rhemus’s will as they spoke. Rhemus wanted to bring his people together again. Dantun knew that Rhemus would bring ruin to the Mikraino. This he had learned from Bandalanu’s memory. He had to intervene. He had to return to the Mikraino cavern and bring his people together himself. As frightening as it was to oppose Rhemus, Dantun knew he must do everything in his power to defeat him.
~Æ~
Arconus sat alone at his conference table, drinking wine. This cursed rebellion had put him in a foul mood. They had lost far more days in this arena than they had won. Even today’s concession from Foster was truly a loss for them. The Bok had deserted, and Gastious was dead.
“Gastious is dead,” he muttered, and took another sip of wine. He looked at his hands, and clenched his fists. Then he put the left one down on the table.
“I’ll never again have a servant as loyal as you,” he said quietly. “Oh, I am growing bored of my own brooding.” He reminded himself that they had not only won the day’s battle, but his siege engines had also arrived, along with nearly a thousand mercenaries hired from Nevulia. They were nasty brutes who had come a long way for good coin and the promise of plunder. Foster and his people would be exterminated on the morrow and this sorry business would be finished. His scribes would write the history, with many of his soldiers eager to tell stories of their own bravery against the evil traitors.
He would make sure that Gastious was well remembered. He poured himself another glass of wine.
He could stand no more of his own company.
“Tiffany!” he called.
There was no answer.
“Tiffany!” he bellowed.
Then Tiffany appeared at the door of the room in a thin, wrinkled dress.
“Sorry darling, I’m distracted this evening,” he said. “Won’t you entertain me?”
She answered by holding her hand out to him, opening her palm and closing it again slowly. He opened his satchel and handed her a dried mushroom. She held her hand out again and repeated the gesture. She wanted more. Only then did Arconus remember what a similar gesture it was to the one Gastious had made at his trial, before he lost his arm.
Arconus gave her two more mushrooms and told her to go to bed. He had lost his appetite for Tiffany.
The door guard called to him, “Your Highness, Argus is here with a guest.”
“Fine, fine. Bring them in,” he ordered.
“Your Highness,” said Argus, as he walked through the tent door with an astonishingly beautiful woman. It took Arconus a moment to notice that she was bound at the hands.
“And allow me to introduce you to Lyra,” said Argus.
Arconus rose from the table and bowed. His mood was improving.
~Æ~
Lyra stood outside the King’s tent with Argus, waiting for the guard to show them in. Argus had given her another dose of anti-venom, and given her another vial to take later. Her strength had mostly returned, and she was contemplating ways to break the bonds around her wrists and escape the guards. Now was not the time, she realised.
The guard returned. “King Arconus will see you now.”
Argus took her by the arm and led her inside, and there, sitting at the end of a large table, was the man who was trying to kill Liam. A hatred rose in her like bile, a hatred she never knew she was capable of. She breathed deeply, calming herself, she needed to keep her wits sharp.
After Argus’s introduction, Arconus rose and bowed. The surly expression he wore when they walked in, had suddenly become an expression of great delight, even giddiness.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Lyra,” he said, slowly walking around the table. He did not stop until he was close enough for her to smell his breath. Then she felt his hand on her stomach, inching towards her breast.
“So you are Foster’s whore?” he asked. He pulled away and circled around behind her. “You’re quite something. Perhaps I will give Tiffany the night off. Guards, take her to my quarters.”
“If I may suggest,” said Argus. “I would put a few extra guards on duty in there.”
“Right, a guard in each corner of the room and two at the door,” Arconus ordered.
Two guards shuffled her roughly away from the pair and into an adjoining room. As she walked through the door Lyra heard Arconus ask Argus, “Are you ready for tomorrow?” but as she crossed the portal, the voices became too muffled for her to hear.
~Æ~
A gentle rapping came at Liam’s door. He recognised it was a Mikraino, because it came from the lower portion of the door. He was about to tell them to come in, but then remembered that they had a hard time reaching the door handle. He opened the door to find Rhemus and Kaila standing there, out
of breath and looking travel-worn.
“Come in, sit down,” he said to them. “Where is Lyra?”
~Æ~
Guards took their posts in the corners of the opulent bedroom. It was large for sleeping quarters, but felt very tight when shared with four large guards. She instinctively walked to the foot of the bed, which was at the centre of the room. Only then did she notice a young girl sprawled out on her back on top of the blankets, her head on the wrong side of the bed. She was looking up at her, upside down.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hello, my dear,” said Lyra kindly. The girl’s eyes betrayed her drug use, hallucinogenic most likely.
“Don’t worry,” she said, and rolled onto her stomach. “He won’t do anything to you. You’re too old.”
Lyra cringed in revulsion. She walked around and sat on the bed next to her. She stroked her hair with her bound hands. She was a beautiful girl, in spite of her sunken features. “What is your name?” she asked.
“I’m Tiffany,” she answered.
“My name is Lyra. How long have you been with Arconus, Tiffany?”
“About three years. He should get tired of me soon, I hope.”
Lyra took a deep breath, this time to keep herself from crying. She cast a gentle spell to make Tiffany feel at ease to speak. The two of them talked quietly for a while, and Lyra learned more than she ever wanted to about the horrible slavery which the girl had endured.
“How did you come to meet the King?” Lyra finally asked.
“Everyone in the village went out to the road to watch the King pass by,” she said. “It was a grand thing. So many horses, and the King’s chariot was covered in white and gold. Then it stopped right in front of us. I saw the King’s hand come out of the window. It had rings all over it. And he pointed right at me. Then one of the guards came up to us and asked my ma and pa if it was okay if I went to meet the King.”
Tiffany paused a moment in reflection. “They were so happy. I think they were proud of me. They said yes straight away. Then I got in the carriage, and the King said nice things to me, asked me my name and stuff. I was so excited. I don’t even remember what he said. Then he asked if I wanted to ride with him for a while. I said okay and we started riding. I looked out the window and waved to my ma and pa. A guard was talking to them. My ma kept looking to the carriage like she was worried. You know that look. I saw the guard give my pa a bag, and then my ma started runnin’ after us. One of the guards held her back, and then when my pa was done lookin in the bag, he helped to hold her back. My ma was screamin’ but my pa was just waving to us like everythin’ was okay. So I wasn’t so sure if everything was okay or not. I was scared, and then the King pulled me back in front of him and told me not to worry. He gave me a chocolate and a mushroom. The chocolate was so nice. Never had one before. The mushroom wasn’t so nice, but pretty soon I wasn’t worried no more.”
This time she could not stop the tears. Lyra carried on stroking her hair until her emotions were under control. Then, although it was against everything the Sisterhood had taught her, she said, “I can help you, Tiffany, if you want.”
“How can you help me?” she answered, sounding nearly asleep.
“I can take away your pain.”
“I don’t have any pain, only mushrooms, and sometimes some chocolate,” she answered.
“First I will have to take away the mushrooms. Then I will have to take away the pain. Then, perhaps, we can go away from here.”
Tiffany laughed, then said softly, “No one escapes Arconus.”
“Would you like to try?”
“Why not? If only for fun,” she said. “The worst that could happen is that I’d die.”
And then, as if she had just understood the meaning of her own joke, she started laughing softly.
Lyra bit into her own knuckles out of sorrow for the poor girl.
“Then I will help you. I’m going to sing you a song.”
Lyra sang a soft ballad about a girl who wandered too far from home and became lost in the wilderness. The girl had many adventures, encountered terrible things, and eventually came home. It was a very long song, and it gave her time to weave her spells. First, she lulled Tiffany and all the guards in the room into a near stupor. Then she set to work on the drugs. She could not alter the girl’s chemistry, but given the fact that what she was using was a hallucinogenic, she could work on her mind to balance out the drug. She did everything she could think of to ease the girls suffering but keep her alert enough to take directions. The process took over an hour, and Lyra felt she had performed all of her spells successfully, but a part of the process made it necessary for the spell weaver to share some of her own energy to lead the spell’s recipient in the right direction.
Lyra was exhausted. She remembered only then that she needed to take another vial of anti-venom. She found it and drank the contents. She then gently caressed Tiffany’s mind to a higher degree of awareness. She looked confused, no doubt still under the influence of the drugs, as well as Lyra’s spells, but Lyra felt she had done her best to give them both the best chance of escape. She took Tiffany by the arm and led her straight to the nearest guard.
“My dear sir,” Lyra said. “I do hope you will understand. We would like to leave here now, and it will be most difficult to do so while my hands are bound together. Won’t you please help me take these ropes off?”
Without a word, the guard pulled his knife from his belt and cut through the rope.
“Oh, thank you so much, sir. Now won’t you be so kind as to tell me the best way to escape the camp without being detected?”
The guard looked glossy-eyed, but thoughtful, and then he said, “Yes, I suppose I would go out over there on the north side. Here, take my knife,” he said, handing it to her. “You can cut through the tent easily enough. The King’s horses are on that side. I still don’t know why he brings so many. He hardly ever rides. But yes, I would go through the north side. Don’t spook the horses. There are guards for the horses too, but if they ain’t asleep, they’ll be distracted no doubt. Only scattered patrols beyond that. If I had to do it, that’s the way I’d go. Yeah, I’d go that way.”
“Why thank you, good sir,” Lyra said, lightly touching the guards face, eliciting a dreamy smile.
Lyra took Tiffany’s hand and led her to the north wall of the tent. She carefully cut open the fabric while the guards all watched, bemused and content. As the guard had told her, there was a small stable there. She cast a spell to calm the horses, and wondered idly if that spell ever worked. There were two guards at the other end of the stable, playing dice and drinking from flagons. The two carefully picked their way through the horses without disturbing them. When they reached the fence, Lyra heard a crowd of footsteps coming around the corner of the tent.
Argus appeared, followed by four guards walking briskly. She carefully pulled Tiffany down and back among the horses, but a moment later her worst fears were realised.
“There they are,” said Argus as they rounded the corner of the stable. The dice-playing guards opened the stable gates and the others walked through. Lyra knew it was hopeless and she stood up to accept their capture.
“Tie her to the post,” ordered Argus. “Our beautiful concubine will be sleeping here tonight. The King would like his privacy with Tiffany. All of you will remain on guard. Remember, she is an enchantress and can weave spells with her voice. If she speaks, silence her. Don’t be concerned for her teeth.”
~Æ~
Liam stood atop the palace walls with his usual retinue, a terrible dread distracting him from what he must do. When Rhemus came to his door the night before and told him about Lyra, he had been nearly blind with worry, but the Mikraino made a convincing argument that Lyra could take care of herself, and they seemed utterly confident that she would be safe. Liam had learned by now to trust their instincts, but images of Lyra in the hands of Arconus invaded his mind relentlessly.
Now they stood atop the wall wai
ting to see if Maurious’s prediction held true. He wondered how the Old Man in the Swamp felt about the loss of his father.
After he had calmed down the night before, they told him about Verkleet. When he decided that he would deliver the news to Maurious himself, they told him that Maurious already knew.
“What are those for?” asked Liam, referring to the neat stacks of wood arranged around the edge of the arena.
“My brother,” Maurious said in an exasperated tone. “Pompous ass. Those will essentially be his weapons. Argus spent an inordinate amount of his time in his youth learning the art of illusion. He’s probably taken a large portion of scarlet moss to help him keep up the connection. That wood was chosen because it will yield quite a bit of smoke. I think you are in for a real show.”
“There he is,” observed Rhoie as Argus slowly walked into the arena. He was dressed in a long purple robe and he carried a long staff. Like a staged dance performance, a dozen or so young men dressed in black trotted out into the arena bearing torches. They fanned out, one to each wood pile. Each stack was lit quickly and then the torch-bearers ran to the opposite side of the arena, then filed into two rows, running down the centre on either side of Argus.
“For all the pretty dancing, he is still standing down there alone,” said General Riley. “What’s to stop us from sending five hundred men down there against him?”
“You would lose five hundred men,” answered Maurious. “Today is my day to fight.”
“What are you going to fight with?” asked Blade, who had ignored Maurious’s order to stay in bed.
Maurious leaned down and picked up his staff. “Our family prefers to fight with these.”
Rhoie looked at the long wooden staff sceptically. “Is that a magic staff?” he asked.
Maurious took a step back and twirled the staff around his body in a fast, graceful flurry of moves that ended with Maurious standing with his arms outstretched, the staff still rolling around his torso in a downward arc. The end of the staff swung close to Rhoie, but he was unable to react on his crutches. Then his pants slid down around his ankles.
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