by C. K. Rieke
Her hand made its way over above the head of the man, with a flick of her middle finger, tapped his head. He rustled in his sleep, annoying, so she did it again. This time harder. His eyes slowly opened, but shot open wide once he saw her face. Her hand covered his mouth and his eyes glazed over in terror.
She shook her head, and he nodded, seemingly understanding not to make a sound. Removing her hand slowly, he didn’t move a muscle, but began to sweat. “I knew this day would come, but finally here, now, looking into the eyes of one of your kind, I finally see the evil you truly are,” he said.
“Well, take a good look while you can,” she said.
One of the women stirred next to him, and opened her eyes to see the woman standing over the bed with a dagger twirling in her hand.
She gasped but the man quieted her with a shushing sound. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, and she scooted back into the bed. The other woman awoke, she was nude, and the man did his best to reassure her as well.
“You know why I’ve come then?”
“Yes, you don’t know what it’s like to run from the gods,” he said. “They must treat you well to serve them like you do.”
She stood there unwavering and didn’t answer. The gods have given me everything— purpose, pleasure, power.
“Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind how forcefully they rule? How oppressed the people have become? Their enslavement? Their greed? Their lust for absolute power?”
She glared into his eyes and didn’t respond.
“There is another way. There’s a way to defeat them, if you’ll just let me explain. The prophecy, the prophecy tells of our salvation. We can be free again. Just hold on, hold on a couple of minutes, and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything . . .”
“You can tell it to the gods themselves,” she said. “Where you’re going, there won’t be anyone else to talk to.”
“No! Please, no!” he yelled out, and the girls began to scream and claw themselves out of the bed, but they didn’t make it.
With a flash of metal, they were both cut down, and their limbs lay awkwardly across the soft, green satin sheets, blood-soaked from the cut wounds. The man made it out of the bed and stumbled across the bare floor on his hands and knees, trying to make it to a sword at a table across the room.
“You shouldn’t keep your sword so far from reach, when you’re a traitor to the gods,” she said as she walked slowly over to him.
“Traitor to the gods?” he barked. “They are traitors of the people, have they never wronged you? Haven’t you seen the enslavement? The misery? We deserve a better life, and I can—”
She grew tired of the man’s ramblings and blasphemy, and she drove her sword into the man’s chest and heart. His wide eyes looked into hers, and soon rolled back into his head. She reached down to find a thin strand of string hanging around his neck, and pulled up on it to reveal a white stone pendant from underneath his shirt. She clasped it in her hand, and ripped it from his neck. Pulling her sword from him, he fell to the ground, onto his chest. She wiped the blood from her sword onto the back of his shirt.
As she walked over to the wooden door and iron gate, she stopped, and looked over at the three candles rustling in the wind by the open window in the high tower. She turned and walked over to them, and looking into the dancing light, she smirked, knelt down, and blew them out. Darkness filled the tower as all its light had been extinguished.
Chapter Sixteen
She arrived back in Voru three days later. Sleeping under the vast, bright stars and walking the sands each day for ten hours, she finally saw the sharp tops of the Castle of Erodoran. Its tips glimmered gold as the warm sunlight washed down upon the sprawling city. From far in the sands the city first appeared to be a mountain range in the dancing heat, as it waved back and forth. But once the towers of Erodoran came into view, Lilaci always felt a sense of relief for the vast deposits of water, but an instinctual dread she couldn’t describe.
As she walked through the city roads, heading straight into its heart, she had grown accustomed to the constant peering and glares. The citizens of Voru knew what she was, they knew what she was capable of. She’d only been a weapon of the throne for a year, but in that time, she’d already grown to be one of the most elite assassins the crown had in many years. It was her job, it was all she knew, and she even enjoyed it.
The city roads were decorated with long, flowing fountains, which the citizens were heavily taxed for. The city itself had a vague smell of rotting meat and flesh, but was marginally covered up by the pungent perfumes the people wore, as much of a custom to them as wearing shoes. The markets were bustling from dawn to dusk, the roads were lined with vendors with wares mainly created in the city itself. Although, rarely wares were brought in from one of the other Great Oasi and their cities. These items were masterfully crafted weapons and armor, mostly.
Lilaci looked down at a shiny metal that caught her eye as she walked down the market. It was a thin blade the length of her whole arm, and a copper hilt wrapped in black leather. She leaned down to grasp the blade, and usually the bearded merchant would have stopped anyone from touching the exotic sword without proof of available funds, but he only watched her and said nothing.
Many eyes were on her as she held the blade out before her, a shimmer of light slid down the blade as she twisted it in her hand. With a whisping sound, she twirled the sword in the air around her to both sides. She moved so swiftly and smoothly, the merchant wasn’t able to keep his eyes on it as it slid around her body. Then it stopped, and she let it dip low next to her thigh.
“This is a good sword,” she said flatly to the merchant, who gave a worried look, as he most likely assumed she’d end up taking it, and he’d be left empty-handed. She unsheathed her sword, which was shorter, and much more worn than the merchant’s sword. “Here, take this in exchange, and you may request payment for the rest from the capitol.”
The weary merchant reached up and grabbed the sword by the hilt, and nodded slightly. She slid the new sword into the sheath at her hip and continued walking towards Erodoran Castle. Once there, she crossed the drawbridge which covered the deep moat that protected the castle. Four guards at its gate stood in a line with long tridents in hand. Once they saw her approach, they split to provide a path for her to enter through. She walked confidently into the dark interior of the castle and smelled the musty aroma of a castle that had stood for thousands of years.
She walked through the grand entryway that was lined with paintings of each of the royal family that the castle housed. First there was an oil painting of King Gofgenden Serinaas, and next to it a painting of the queen, Queen Lezeral Serinaas. The paintings were exaggerations of the royal pair. King Gofgenden in the painting had a strong jaw, a full head of silver hair pulled back and a royal looking curled mustache. Queen Lezeral was depicted as a woman of fair complexion, with blue eyes and soft skin.
After Lilaci examined the paintings of the royal pair, she looked down the line at the many sons and daughters of them, and their offspring. All were well painted and gave each child, adolescent and adult an almost divine, infinite sense. In the room filled with hanging chandeliers filled with lit candles and hanging crystals, she walked down the line, one by one. She tried to imagine each of their weaknesses, something she was taught to find and exploit.
As she examined them in the large entryway into the castle, she felt a familiar presence creeping through the shadows. She turned to face it, and without yet seeing the figure, she bowed her head. “Master,” she said.
“Lilaci,” the figure said as it emerged from the shadows. She saw his tall stature, with his opaque, gray eyes and the two scars that crisscrossed his nose. “How did you fare? Well, I take it.”
She reached into her pouch and pulled from it a pendant of white stone, and she held it out for him to see. “Threat eliminated.”
“Good girl,” he said. He walked towards her and grabbed the pendant from her outstretched
hand and put it into his own pouch. He continued to circle her, and went to her back, where he put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Good girl, I’ve taught you well. Not many could do what you did, alone.”
“I only do what is needed of me, Master.”
He continued around her to stand in front of her. She looked up to see his signature conniving smile. “The king and queen requested your presence.” She didn’t respond, but assumed he was gauging her reaction. “We are to go together if you’re ready, they will be pleased with your success in your mission. Did you run into any difficulties?”
She shook her head.
“You have become a prized weapon for the crown, for all of Voru, and for the gods above. Only they know how strong and valuable you will become. Now come,” Veranor said. “The king and queen await.” He held out his hand, which she quickly grabbed, and he led her up the purple-carpeted stairwell towards the Royal Chamber of Erodoran.
Chapter Seventeen
Veranor escorted Lilaci through the Castle of Erodoran, which was dimly lit with flickering candles in the musty stone rooms. The cool, dim rooms soon gave way to the brilliantly lit upper levels and throne room of the palace. Lilaci had learned that the clear stone walls that decorated the higher rooms of the castle were constructed by melting sand until it became hard and transparent. She was told it was a gift of the gods.
Following him, they entered into the throne room of the palace, a large six-sided room with the glass on all sides, and at each of its sides was visible an enormous golden statue of another of the gods. Every one of the statues loomed large on the outside of the throne room, so that each looked down onto the lower parts of the city. They were reminders to the population of Voru, to show who was truly in power.
Before Lilaci were the king and queen, seated on their royal thrones. The king was looking forward as Veranor and she approached. The queen was preoccupied yelling orders to a servant that was trying to care for two loud children, each playing with toys on the floor before the royal pair. She yelled and waved her hand at the servant, who went and picked up the two and carried them off crying past Lilaci.
The six royal guard in the room eyed her as she approached. They were all of the normal dark skin of the lands, and Lilaci assumed they feared her and Veranor. She eyed them back, in their bronze-colored heavy armor, she quickly assessed the weak points in the armor.
Veranor stopped just before the end of the long gold and red carpet that led to the thrones, and knelt. Lilaci did the same. They both bowed their heads, waiting for them to get permission to raise their heads.
“You may rise,” King Gofgenden said. Lilaci had only met the king once before, in her induction ceremony in the Order of the Six, a group of assassins to carry out the will of the six gods. She looked up to see him them, as he sat on his throne, slothfully reclined on the high-backed throne. He wore fine silk robes, was fat at the neck, and his gray hair was frayed and thin.
The queen sighed next to him, she had dark hues under her eyes, and had a preoccupied mind, possibly from having so many children to the king. Thin, she sat with her back straight, as her eyes darted around Lilaci and Veranor. Her hair was a dark-brown that fell over her shoulder onto her chest, and her eyes were dim and cold.
“I hear from your commander all went well,” the king said.
Lilaci bowed her head slightly. Easier than even I thought it would be.
“Beautiful and deadly,” the king grinned, and leaned forward in his seat. “That’s what I love about your order. I’m sure the heretic never even saw you coming. Ha!”
“He will no longer spread his lies throughout your lands, my liege,” Veranor said.
“That’s good, that’s very good,” the king said.
“The man—,” the queen began. “Did he see you coming?”
Lilaci didn’t know if to respond or not, until Veranor gave her a slight nudge on the arm. “No, my queen. They were unaware of my presence.”
“They?” the queen asked with a curious smirk.
“He was with other women when I confronted him.”
“You see—,” she said, speaking to the king. “These heretics live by the old laws still. Only those of the Vallenen class can be with multiple partners. They think they can live by our means. Disgusting. Vermin is what they are.” She turned back to Lilaci. “You are doing these lands a favor, assassin.”
Lilaci bowed. “Thank you, my queen.”
“It is our duty,” Veranor added. When he said that, Lilaci caught a strange odor on his breath, it was that of a strong alcohol. Was he drinking before he met me at the entrance to the castle. Why would he do that? He never would drink this early in the afternoon . . . Unless— is he nervous about something? Nervous to meet the king and queen possibly.
“Yes, and you do your king and queen great honor by fulfilling your duties as such,” the king said. “However—” Lilaci could sense Veranor nervously fidgeting his fingers. “I did not bring you here just to shower you with praise.” The king stood from his throne, and the queen did as well. The bronze-armored guards knelt, and bowed their heads. Lilaci saw Veranor kneel and bow, and she did the same.
Secretly she watched the king walk over to a circular, silver pedestal at the side of the room. It was waist high, and had white jewels inlaid into it that wound up and around its base. The king went and laid his palm softly on the top of it, and she watched as the white jewels began to glow a brilliant crimson red.
A humming began from the pedestal, and Lilaci could feel a power emerging from it, like the presence of lightning. The king stood back and watched as the pedestal’s stone glowed a bright red, illuminated the throne room, and slowly the sunlight began to fade and the room grew dark. Lilaci watched as the room began to disappear, and all that was seen were the king and queen, lit in the red glow of the pedestal. She looked over to see Veranor was watching as well.
“This is it,” Veranor whispered. “They’re summoning the gods.”
The gods? Should I be frightened or excited? Veranor seems to be both.
The pedestal began to shake and hum, and then a shock like a lightning strike shot out from the pedestal, and a blinding red light erupted from it, causing Lilaci to shield her eyes. When she opened them again, the king and queen were still illuminated in a red glow, but now stood the six gods in the center of the room, each brightly lit, not in the red light, but as if they were standing under the warm, bright sun.
The king and queen knelt to the gods. Lilaci watched in awe as each of them gazed around the room, as if looking for something she couldn’t see.
“You may rise,” a voice of the male god at the center said. His voice was low, and strong, like he was calling from up high on a mountain.
The king and queen stood, and Lilaci began to stand— It’s him. The Great God himself. I want nothing more than to look up at his divinity. I can feel his power rushing through the air. But just as she began to rise from her knee, Veranor’s hand grabbed her wrist to keep her down.
“Great God Dânoz, we live to serve your infinite wisdom and strength,” the king said.
Dânoz raised his chin in pride and affirmation of the king’s loyalty. Lilaci peered up at Dânoz, in his majesty the great god was tall, five heads taller than Veranor, with long silver hair flowing down his back, with golden robes, and wild blue eyes that were piercing, and soul-reading. It was then that she noticed he did not have the same dark skin-tone as the people of the Arr, but the pale, light complexion she and Veranor shared. Not only that, but he had the sharp widow’s peak as well. It was only Dânoz though, as the other gods had dark skin and the same features as the king and queen.
The other gods Lilaci could recognize just by their stature and facial features. She noticed Fayell, the god renowned for her beauty and generosity. Her face was gentle and elegant, her eyes were pale blue and carried a sense of understanding. Her hair was a light-brown, with waves that cascaded down her shoulders and chest. She wore a silver-s
ilk dress that rolled down her curves.
Next to her was Arymos, the male god known as the god that created the sandstorms with his flaring temper. He had one dark-blue eye that was menacing and cold, the other was a white eye with no color or pupil. He carried a magnificent, shimmering broadsword with a panther’s head on the tip of its hilt. He wore long, black leather armor with copper buckles, and his head was bald and he wore a thin mustache and beard.
Eyr, standing with her strong shoulders and arms, looked down at Lilaci, who looked back up at her. Eyr was the god that was said to have struck down the great dragon Kôrran, millennia ago. She was said to be the most ferocious warrior of the gods. She wore a light silver armor on her chest and atop her head was a golden helmet with an eagle’s wings spread out wide. Her eyes were bright blue with specks of gold.
Vigolos stood out from the other gods, as he was half their height, and stout with thick muscles in his arms and stomach. He had a long, smooth beard that reached below his chest and had a long scar across his face. His hair was braided behind his shoulders, and he had the fur of an exotic white animal across his back. He was said to be the one who led Danoz to discover the weakness of the dragons, which he exploited to drive them off from the Arr, and left them without threat.
Last was Gorlen, sulking to the side of Vigolos. She was the god Lilaci always feared the most. She was a sorceress that wielded powerful magics that could do all sorts of wicked things to entire cities of people. Lilaci could fight and kill the most powerful men on the sands, but she had no defense against magics. It was said Gorlen was even skilled in the art of necromancy. She wore a long, flowing black dress with her bosom exposed. Her lips were soft and her eyes a glowing, light-blue that glimmered with a white reflection. Lilaci always pictured Gorlen as a decrepit, old woman with warts on her face and menacing eyes, but no, there she stood; a seductive, beautiful god.