by Ian Gregoire
“No!”
“How did she die?”
“Shut up!”
“Tell me how she died.”
“No!”
Taking a swift step towards her, Ari stood almost on her toes. “Kayden, how did your mother die?” he barked, staring down at her. “Tell me, now!”
“The piece of human garbage that is my stepfather killed her,” Kayden snarled, her voice rising further. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
She was visibly trembling with rage.
Kayden could feel her eyes sting as she fought to keep her tears at bay while Ari stared silently at her. She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her cry. It was bad enough she had let him provoke her into speaking of the most painful experience of her life, but she wasn’t going to compound the lapse by crying in front of him.
She back-pedalled a couple of paces away from Ari.
“How dare you,” she uttered in a low, monotone voice. “This is over.”
She dropped the knapsack from her shoulder, letting it fall at her feet, then stormed away from the Sanatsai—stomping back the way they had come, intending to return to Temis Rulan. So what if she was blowing her chances of being inducted into the Order? It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t allow them to rob her of her power. Anyone stupid enough to attempt to bind her Zarantar would have an almighty fight on their hands.
She hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards when Master Ari called out to her. “Tell me about your stepfather.”
What?
Kayden shuffled to a stop, frowning. She took a calming breath, then slowly turned around to stare back at him. He remained standing in the same spot she had left him in, staring fixedly at her. What was he hoping to gain by goading her further?
Fuelled by indignation, Kayden marched purposefully back towards Ari.
“My stepfather is a worthless waste of breath,” she said coldly, halting a couple of paces in front of Ari. “What else do you want to know about him?”
“Why did he kill your mother?” Ari asked gently.
“What do you mean, why?” she griped incredulously. “Because he could. Because he is a spineless, gutless bully and abuser who knew my mother would take whatever he dished out. He was wholly incapable of appreciating her. He would always find fault with her—some excuse or other to beat her—and she let him, over and over again. He would beat her down and she would just get up again, never willing to rock the boat as long as he never laid a finger on me.”
Kayden paused. She was trembling again, still fighting to keep back her tears. “But the last time he beat her down… Mama never got up again.”
There was sympathy in Ari’s eyes. “Were you there when it happened?” he asked. “Did you see your stepfather kill your mother?”
Kayden didn’t reply. But she didn’t need to, she knew the answer was written all over her face.
“Tell me how it happened,” Ari prompted, softly.
There was a protracted silence while Kayden dithered as to whether she should oblige the request. But some part of her, however reluctantly, needed to get it off her chest. She took a breath to compose herself.
“I was in the kitchen helping my mother prepare the evening meal when my stepfather came home in a foul mood. He began ranting and raving about why his supper wasn’t ready yet, and how many times did he have to tell her to let the kitchen staff handle all the cooking—that’s what they were there for.
“Mama told me to go to my room. She knew what was coming. But she said it in Zenoshanese, and he hated hearing me and Mama speak her mother tongue. So he grabbed her by the hair. ‘Don’t think I don’t know when you’re insulting me to your good for nothing sprog!’ he shouted. Then he started hitting her, and she just let him.” Her toes clenched inside her boots as she recalled the harrowing incident. “I tried to help her. I screamed at him to stop. ‘Shut up, you little shit stain!’ he shouted, pointing a finger at me—a warning that I would get the same treatment as my mother if I didn’t stop. But I wasn’t afraid of him. I was never afraid of him.”
Pausing briefly, she pursed her lips while grinding her teeth. She felt as though she were reliving the moment, making it hard to suppress the impulse to lash out at someone or something.
“I grabbed a bowl from the table and I threw it at him as hard as I could. It struck him in the face. He was furious. He let go of Mama and came for me instead, but she rushed to put herself between us. And as she had done on many previous occasions, she willingly offered herself up for a beating just so he wouldn’t lay a finger on me. She never ever let him hurt me.”
The throbbing at her temples, and the quickening of her heartbeat, prompted Kayden to concentrate on steadying her breathing.
“But there was nothing I could do as he knocked Mama to the floor. He started kicking and stamping on her, over and over again. He wouldn’t stop. I tried to stop him but I wasn’t strong enough, he just tossed me aside like I was a piece of rubbish. So I rushed out of the house, into the street, screaming for help. I eventually came upon a two-man patrol of the City Guard, but by the time I persuaded them to come back to the house with me…it was too late.
“When we entered the kitchen, Mama was on the lying on the floor and my stepfather was kneeling over her, crying, trying to rouse her. One of the Guard asked him to explain what happened to my mother, and he responded by blaming me. He told them that I’d had a wild tantrum, and that my mother fell and hit her head while chasing me out of the kitchen. Of course, the Guard knew he was lying and they promptly arrested him. But being who he is, my stepfather was able to bribe them. He paid them to take my mother’s body away for interment the next morning.”
Kayden could feel her lips quivering but she was determined to keep her emotions bottled up.
“I didn’t know what to do. I was crying for Mama and I started begging the Guard to arrest my stepfather, but he just called for one of the servants to drag me away and lock me in my room. It wasn’t until later, when my mother’s body had been removed from the house by the Guard, that my stepfather came to my bedroom. He was so angry. He grabbed hold of me, lifting me off my feet saying it was bad enough I killed his wife, but I had crossed a line by trying to get him into trouble with the City Guard. He said he was finally going to give me what I deserved—that he was going to teach me a lesson I would never forget. He started beating me, and I thought he was going to kill me, too. But I wanted to die. I didn’t want to live without Mama. But I wasn’t granted death.”
Fists clenched at her side, Kayden’s fingernails bit into the palm of her hands.
“Once my stepfather had exhausted his anger on me I was still alive, lying curled up on the floor as he stood over me. He told me that as soon as my bruises had cleared up he would start shopping me around the bordellos of the courtesan district; he was going to sell me to whomever made the highest bid. He took great pleasure in stating that all the madams of Shali were sure to offer exorbitant sums of money for the opportunity to acquire a piece of young and tender Vaidasovian meat.
“As he was leaving my room he stopped in the doorway and looked back at me. He said I should be grateful I was worth more money unbroken, otherwise he would have tested my merchandise first and fucked me senseless, right there and then, on the bedroom floor.” She scowled unwittingly. “But I didn’t care what plans he had for me. I’d already decided he wouldn’t live to see another day; I was going to kill him that very night.
“I waited up most of the night, until I was certain he was sleeping. I left my room with an oil lamp in hand then made my way to the kitchen to grab a knife before creeping to my stepfather’s room. As I stood outside the door, I still hadn’t made up my mind as to whether I was going to set his room ablaze or stab him to death—so I decided to do both.”
A wry smile curled her lips before a hollow laugh escaped her mouth moments later. There was no mirth in the outburst, but laughing kept her anger in check and her tears at bay. At least for a moment
.
“I burst into the room, threw the oil lamp against the wall then rushed straight to the bed where he was sleeping. I jumped onto it and thrust the knife down as hard as I could. He woke up with a shocked gasp, and looked stunned to see me above him with a knife in my hand. I thrust the knife down again, this time he raised his arms to protect himself. The blade stuck deep in his forearm and he screamed. But before I could pull it back out to stab him a third time his thrashing movement beneath me caused me to tumble off the bed onto the floor. I started to scramble towards the door on my hands and knees then I heard him yell behind me, ‘I’m going to skin you alive!’ I looked back to see he had clambered out of bed and stood with the knife in his hand. I’ll never forget the look on his face in that moment. He meant what he said, and would have done what he said, if not for the curtains being engulfed in flames. Once he noticed the fire started by my broken oil lamp, he had a choice to make: punish me or save his home.
“His hesitation allowed me to get to my feet, and I ran. I ran out of the bedroom, out of the house, into the night, and I never looked back.”
Kayden hoped that was the end of her narration, that it would be enough to satisfy Master Ari, and put an end to his prying into her past. Damn him! But he dashed those hopes immediately.
“You feel guilty about your mother’s death,” he said gently, “don’t you, Kayden?”
“How can I not?” she lamented in reply. “Mama married my stepfather for my sake. And she only stayed with him because of me.”
Ari looked confused. “Explain.”
“I said earlier that my father abandoned my mother when I was still a baby. But the truth is he did not want to leave her; he wanted to leave Astana. He had difficulty adjusting to life there, and he never could get to grips with the language, that’s why he wanted us to return to Zenosha to seek forgiveness from their families. However, there was an obstacle in the way of that goal… Me. My parents had married without the consent and blessing of their families so their marriage would be deemed illegitimate back in Zenosha. Returning home with a two-year-old baby girl would have scandalised them and their families even further.
“My father proposed that they leave me behind in Astana—give me up to an adoptive family to raise as their own. Mama refused this. She wouldn’t abandon me for anything or anyone. I was her baby girl, her pride and joy.
“The next morning Mama awoke to find my father had gone, leaving a goodbye note. It was just me and Mama then, and for the next three years she struggled on as best she could to take care of us both. Eventually she decided it was in my best interest that she remarry.
“Mama was a beautiful woman, inside and out, so she was never short of admirers and suitors, though none were ever prepared to raise another man’s child—not until she came to the attention of my stepfather. It didn’t bother Mama that she would be a trophy for him, just an exotic novelty. He was, in most ways, exactly what she was looking for. Although not nobility himself, my stepfather is the accountant for an Astanese Baron, Beniro Raytano, so he is a wealthy man in his own right. That’s why mama married him. She never loved him. She just wanted the financial security that being his wife could provide for me, that’s why she tolerated his all too frequent mistreatment of her.
“So yes, Master,” Kayden said bitterly, “of course I feel guilty about my mother’s death. Mama’s love for me ultimately led to her murder. If only she had abandoned me as a baby and returned home with my father, she might still be alive today.”
“Kayden, I realise witnessing your mother’s tragic death must have been deeply traumatic for you, but you cannot blame yourself.”
“I don’t,” she retorted. “One person, and one person alone is responsible for murdering my mother.”
Kayden was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her emotions in check and her tears at bay. She had to end the conversation before the floodgates opened. She hadn’t cried in years and she’d be damned before allowing Master Ari to reduce her to tears now. She looked imploringly into his eyes, and murmured, “Why are you doing this to me?” Her forlorn voice was barely above a whisper.
“You have never spoken about your mother’s death before, have you?” There was no response from Kayden. “Getting you to open up about it, now, is a crucial first step in helping you to come to terms with it, because until you do you will never be able to let it go.”
Ari’s words were the final straw. Kayden took a step towards him, glaring furiously.
“I will never let it go!” she yelled. “I don’t want to come to terms with it.”
“Then what do you want?” Ari challenged.
“I want to kill the son-of-a-bitch who took my mother away from me!” Kayden’s raised tone was as manic as the look she knew was in her eyes. “And I will kill him. But it won’t be quick. He is going to suffer. I’m going to make him experience the terror and the helplessness of facing someone stronger and more powerful. When I stand before him as a Sanatsai of the Order I want to see the fear in his eyes when realisation finally sets in that he is a dead man walking, and that nothing and no one can in this world can protect him from what is coming next. I’m going to torment him the way a cat toys with a mouse. I will use my Zarantar to slowly shatter every bone in his body, then I’m going to make him beg for his life.” Kayden paused briefly, but she wasn’t finished yet. When she spoke again her voice was low and deliberate. “And when he does… Once he pleads for mercy… He will find none forthcoming from me—just vengeance for my mother as I end his worthless life.”
“Murderers are not welcome in the Order, Kayden” said Ari in a very matter-of-fact fashion.
Backing away slowly from the Sanatsai, Kayden shrugged. “But they are welcome everywhere else.” As she spoke she sounded utterly defeated. “Welcome to terrorise and brutalise a beautiful, gentle soul who never harmed anyone. Welcome to snuff out the radiant light that made my world a brighter place. Welcome to rob me of the person I loved most in this life.” A single tear trickled down Kayden’s cheek. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”
Kayden finally broke down, and the floodgates opened. She bent at the waist—her hands on her knees, tears streaming down her face as she wept uncontrollably. Her whole body racked with her heart-rending sobs.
The apprentice barely noticed the hand that slowly, gently stroked her back. But she heard Master Ari’s soft voice intone the words, “That’s it. Let it go, Kayden. Let it go. Let it go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In The Company Of Living Legends
Kenit enjoyed going to the flower gardens in the evening after finishing his dinner at the mess hall. It wasn’t just that the gardens seemed to grow more beautiful in the fading light at the end of a day. Nor was it his fondness for sitting down to observe the stars emerge in the heavens as evening gave way to night. His principal reason for being there most evenings was the solitude it afforded him. Although there would invariably be a few Jaymidari wandering about now and then, few—if any—of his fellow Sanatsai ever came to the gardens at that time of day. After the evening meal some would just loiter in the mess hall well into the night, enjoying conversation. Many would return to Kassani House to gather in one of the common rooms to put their feet up and socialise; others would leave the grounds entirely, to visit colleagues living in other locations in Temis Rulan, while a few hurried off to their accommodations in the barracks, either alone, or with an amorous partner, eager to indulge in carnal pleasures.
Not so long ago Kenit enjoyed doing all of those things…but not any more.
These days he found it difficult to be in the company of other Sanatsai; he resented the way everyone stared at him. A small number would look at him with pity or sympathy in their eyes. But most eyes simply held antipathy and contempt, maybe even hatred. Though nobody had ever voiced the assertion—at least not within earshot—many people in the Order deemed him culpable for the violent death of Marit Katarnian. It was a viewpoint he understood a
nd shared because he blamed himself for Marit’s demise. Nonetheless, it hurt him that so many people seemingly failed to see that he, too, was deeply affected by what happened. He was just as upset, if not more so.
Upon being inducted into the Order two years ago, Kenit—as with all new additions—inherited the status of novitiate. This designation entailed being taken under the wing of an established Sanatsai for a year, shadowing them, and learning the ins and outs of the duties of a member of the Order. It was Marit who had been assigned to be Kenit’s mentor during his first year, and Kenit had come to appreciate and respect the man a great deal. When Marit had approached him six months ago to enlist him for a clandestine mission outside the Nine Kingdoms, not only did he jump at the opportunity to participate in his first real mission for the Order, he also felt honoured and gratified by the confidence Marit showed in him.
If Kenit had known then what he knew now—that Marit’s confidence in his suitability for the mission was misplaced—he would surely have refused the assignment. What was assumed to be a simple, low risk mission proved to be nothing of the kind. He had no idea what he’d said or done to tip off the cult that he was a spy for the Order. He would probably never know. But what wasn’t in doubt was that when placed in a life or death situation he had frozen. Worse than that, when Marit came to his aid, not realising it was a trap, Kenit had attempted to flee. In the weeks and months since then, he had frequently tried to convince himself that if only he held his nerve and assisted Marit to fight off the cult members involved in the ambush, Marit would still be alive. In truth, such a belief was wishful thinking, and he knew it. Once the leader of the cult appeared—seemingly from nowhere—nothing he could have done would have altered the outcome of events.
Kenit had never encountered a Saharbashi before that night. He’d even doubted that such people still existed. Yet the cult leader surely had to be one; that was the only possible explanation, as he told the Council. Whoever the man was, his Zarantar was incredibly powerful—stronger than Marit and Kenit combined, without a doubt. So even if he had held his nerve and helped Marit face the Saharbashi, it would have been a futile gesture. Marit Katarnian would still be dead and he would still be racked by guilt, seeking the solace of being alone in the flower gardens in the evenings.