Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  WroOth scoffed as Naatos gestured toward Vorec. "Viskaro, at least let me take his face."

  Amelia kept the gun trained on Vorec and the dagger against her own throat. Her skin itched against the blade as the blood hardened. "No, Naatos."

  Naatos sighed with exasperation. "I would be doing it for you. Think of it as a gift."

  "I don't want you to take his face."

  Naatos laughed and shrugged. "You don't have to keep it, darling."

  "Make one more step, and I'll—"

  "Yes, yes, you'll cut your own throat." Naatos rolled his eyes. "This is extortion."

  "Vorec, gather the Ayamin together and have them start marching toward Telhetum. Nobody looks back until they reach Telhetum."

  "Ayamin." Vorec kept his hands up. "Do as the pinchat says."

  WroOth extended his hand toward Vorec. "Amelia, you can't seriously intend to let this pustule live."

  "I do. So far as I'm concerned, everybody lives. Libysha can sort itself out after we're gone."

  Naatos eyed her solemnly. "Are you willing to support my decisions regarding the other worlds?"

  "Not if that involves you conquering them. If the peoples of the worlds ask you to rule, that's one thing. I'll be happy to support you then." Amelia released a tense breath. "And we shouldn't even be arguing about this. Come on. Let's go! Where's QueQoa?"

  Something moved along her peripheral vision. Amelia barely turned her head before a rust-colored wall rammed her sideways. Both the gun and the dagger flew from her hands as she careened off the bruin and crashed to the ground. She fumbled for her weapons, her movements clumsy as shouts rose up from the surrounding Ayamin. Suddenly someone had her hair, ripping her to her feet. The gun's muzzle pressed hard against her temple. "If any of you skinchangers so much as raise a claw, I will shoot your whore through the skull."

  "QueQoa!" Naatos bellowed. "What were you doing?"

  QueQoa spun about in the sky, then dropped to the ground, returning to his state of rest. His brow furrowed deeply as he lifted his arms in confusion. "She betrayed you before and meant to do it again. I disarmed her. But…" He looked from Vorec to Naatos. "He is her enemy as well?"

  "He is her enemy, she is our family!" Naatos shouted at him.

  QueQoa's brow remained wrinkled. "But we were hunting her and she was hiding. She has no smell anymore. That isn't an accident." He gestured toward Amelia weakly. "She had an unusually advanced weapon for this location, and she was pointing it at you. She was in an aggressive stance."

  Amelia's head spun still. Everything blurred, and the throbbing in her head intensified.

  "She—" Naatos sighed, his hand falling to his side. He cast a glare at WroOth. "You of all people didn't explain this to him?"

  WroOth shrugged, his expression slightly sheepish. "In hindsight, I may not have been as clear as I thought."

  "You said she was treacherous and deceptive and cunning. You said she was—" QueQoa began.

  "I know." WroOth set his arms akimbo. "I know. And she is all those things. But—"

  "Silence, all of you," Vorec snapped. "I know what she is, and if you don't want your pinchat killed with her own weapon, you will do precisely as I say."

  "Truly?" WroOth scoffed. "Are you just trying to encourage us to make your death as horrific as possible?"

  Naatos kept his gaze fixed on Vorec. "This will not save you," he said. "Kill her, and what do you have to bargain with?"

  Vorec pressed the gun harder to Amelia's neck. His finger settled over the trigger. "You claim I am dead already, and I would gladly give my life to save my nation."

  "Kill her and—"

  "You'll destroy this country and her people?" Vorec shook his head, laughing faintly. "You already said you were going to do that, and I have no doubt you will. But if she dies, you are left without, and you do need your whore."

  QueQoa tilted his head. "Is there a reason he keeps referring to her that way?" he whispered to WroOth.

  "He wants to see how many times he can say it before he dies," WroOth said.

  "But why? Whores are—" QueQoa started.

  "Yes, thank you, we don't need the definition," WroOth responded.

  Vorec continued, his voice steady. "So there is one way in which Libysha can be saved and you can have some of what you want."

  Amelia straightened as best she could to take the pressure off her neck. "The Machat told you to send us through the Tue-Rah days ago," she snapped. "I was literally taking them to the Tue-Rah."

  "Silence." Vorec shook her briefly, the gun's muzzle digging deeper into her neck now.

  Amelia winced at the pressure on her windpipe. Even more of the bandages had worn away. Most had likely been absorbed by now, and the position he held her in sent tendrils of agony through her body. But she could make this work. Clearly he intended to kill her before he put her through the Tue-Rah. That was the only reason he had intervened. He wasn't so petty that he had to have the credit for saving Libysha. But she also needed to get Naatos, AaQar, WroOth, and QueQoa through the Tue-Rah. She might as well play along for now and then take advantage of an opening once they neared the Tue-Rah.

  "So regardless of whether you promise not to destroy Libysha or not, I don't trust you, you're going to stay here. I am going to take her into the temple, and then you are going to follow at a distance. My Ayamin will stay near you. Once I have Amelia positioned within the Tue-Rah, you four will pass through the Tue-Rah and then I will send her after you. Now. Take their weapons. Baru, Delnar, Tembor," Vorec said. "Prepare a line, each man ten feet apart, all the way to the Chamber of the Tue-Rah. Watch these four at all times. If they so much as make a threat against you, send up the call, and as many projectiles as this thing fires will enter her skull." He jostled Amelia roughly. "Now walk."

  Amelia cooperated, taking unsteady steps and exaggerating her weakness. "Don't rush me," she said. "I can barely walk now."

  "She's still thinking about killing you," Friell called out. "Be careful, sir."

  Amelia closed her eyes as Vorec shoved her along. His grip on the gun was uneasy. He might pull the trigger on accident, but if the opportunity presented itself, she'd get it away from him.

  The Ayamin trotted into the temple, a long staggered line forming into the entrance. Vorec continued forward, limping. The uneven shifting of his weight was an obvious weakness she could target. He kept the gun pressed firmly against her as he paused at the entrance. "Once we're in the temple and I give the callback, they will pass the message to you four. You will walk slowly and orderly into the Chamber of the Tue-Rah. Then you will pass through it one by one, and when you have finished, I will send this pinchat after you."

  Naatos glowered at him. His brothers likewise remained silent, QueQoa still seeming confused as he struggled to puzzle out how Amelia was not a traitor. AaQar maintained his usual indifferent expression while WroOth appeared more impatient for what he knew was inevitably coming. The tyrannoks remained motionless except for the occasional rubbing of their mandibles against their jaws and throats. The pterosaurs had disappeared high within the clouds. The only calls which resounded from the heights were from the tracker eagles.

  With each step Amelia's head cleared a little more, even with the tension radiating off Vorec. The fire in her back eased as well now that she was no longer against him. They passed within the great doors of the temple and then into the rock and rubble strewn halls. All was still except for the crunching of rocks beneath Vorec's boots. She took care as she moved, wincing at the sharp stones beneath her feet. These slippers were almost as shredded as her sleeves.

  "Vorec," she said as he pushed her through the Hall of Creation. She stumbled on chunks of rubble and broken statues. "I know that you're doing this because you want to protect Libysha, but—"

  "I don't want to hear it. Keep walking. You don't have to be conscious." Vorec nudged her along. "None of your tricks will work on me. This ends today."

  Amelia shook her head. There was no
way to get through to him. He was as stubborn as Naatos and less willing to listen.

  Rocks crunched and shifted as one of the fallen tapestries moved. Matthu stepped out of the shadows in front of Vorec. His face was pale, his lips chapped and bloodied. "Elder Commander Vorec, sir," he said, his voice shaking.

  Vorec halted, his grip on Amelia tightening at first, then loosening. "Matthu, what are you doing here? Get away from this corruptor."

  "I know you think you're going to save Libysha, but I'm not going to let you do that and condemn future generations to death," Matthu said. "You need to let her go. Amelia can make the Paras go through the Tue-Rah, and then it will be over."

  Vorec sighed with annoyance. His voice echoed in the high-ceilinged hall. "Matthu, I will not explain this to you further. You and your brother have been shown great lenience—"

  Matthu lifted his javelin, pointing the blade at Vorec's throat. "If I have to kill you, I will." The other Ayamin tensed, their gaze bewildered.

  "That would be treason. I know she's targeted your mind, Matthu, but you are better than this," Vorec said. He motioned for the other Ayamin to remain where they were. "You're stronger than her powers."

  Amelia tried to catch Matthu's gaze. "Matthu, it's all right. You don't have to do this."

  "Silence, mindtwister," Vorec growled.

  Amelia sighed. "Hey a new insult." She cut her eyes at Matthu. "Matthu, you need—"

  "Enough." Vorec struck her in the back along the opening bandages. Amelia nearly doubled over, but he kept a tight grasp on her arm. "Matthu, go. I have given you as much favor as I can. You are not a traitor. Do not force me to take violent action against you."

  "No, I'm not." Matthu adjusted his grip on the javelin. His jaw worked, his breaths tight. "But I know you're going to kill her. And she's not just my friend. I swore I'd help her restore the Tue-Rah. I swore my life on it as an Ayamin and a Libyshan. And even if I didn't, I won't let all the worlds die because they don't have the Tue-Rah. Her world didn't fix things without the Tue-Rah. We don't know we can either. What about all the diseases and the people who die from that?"

  "Diseases and illness are a part of life, Matthu," Vorec said. "What's on the other side of that Tue-Rah when it is restored are races that will plot for our enslavement and our destruction. I was only barely convinced of the Tue-Rah's importance before those monsters destroyed our land, and now, it is better that we fight a thousand plagues rather than this. You are not thinking about this—"

  "Just shut up, all right?" Matthu shouted. His hand trembled. "I don't want to do this, but I will. You aren't who I thought you were. None of you are. I don't—I don't know everything, but—" He swallowed hard. "No one has been listening to the Machat, and they've been right about so much. So I'm listening, and I'm keeping my vow. And I never vowed not to kill you."

  Vorec shook his head. "I am sorry to hear you say that."

  "I don't have to if you let her go though. So, please, elder commander. Let her go."

  Vorec pointed the gun at Matthu and pulled the trigger.

  42

  What Lies in the Temple

  "No, stop!" Amelia screamed. She twisted around, grabbing at the gun.

  The bullet exploded from the barrel. Matthu's eyes barely widened before it pierced his stomach. His hands flew to the rapidly widening red stain as he staggered back. The color drained from his face.

  Two of the Ayamin started forward.

  Amelia clawed her hand down Vorec's arm. He snapped his arm around her neck in a stranglehold and struck her in the head. Ears ringing and blood pounding, she slumped. Her knees gave out next, but her mind screeched with horror.

  "Leave him," Vorec commanded. "His acts have identified him as a traitor. Let him suffer the fate of one. But say nothing of this to his father. It will be easier if the Trapadonian believes his son died in battle." He jerked Amelia around and continued down the hall.

  Amelia fought to regain control of her body. It was getting harder to reorient herself after all these blows, and her vision trembled. And Matthu—where was he? Where had he gone? Someone had to help him. She tried to speak, but the words were nothing more than gurgles.

  "This is all your fault." Vorec practically spat the words. "That boy had a promising future before you came back. Him and his brother. But you corrupted them both. You're deadlier than any plague, you vile wretched pinchat. And how many others? How many others did you destroy?" His hands shook. "If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have come. You're the reason for all of this. You and that—that—"

  A soft skittering sound brushed the edges of Amelia's hearing. Familiar. Like the sounds of the dolmaths in the attack on Ecekom but heavier. Unease tightened her muscles. Vorec stopped as well, the three Ayamin in line ahead also peering up.

  "Did you hear that?" one of the Ayamin asked, his face turned up toward the ceiling. Thick creases filled his brow, concern shining in his dark eyes.

  Vorec glanced down the line. "Confirm the Paras remain under control."

  The Ayamin passed the message down the curving line until it passed out of sight through the next hall.

  Amelia focused her efforts on regaining her strength. The weariness wanted to return, and her stomach ached from too much adrenaline. And Matthu, poor Matthu. He had to be all right. But a gunshot to the stomach.

  She closed her eyes, willing herself to regain her strength faster. First, she'd get out of this, then she'd find him. He wasn't going to die in this place. She strained against Vorec's arm as he cut off her airway. Vorec thrust the gun back against her head. "Be still."

  The Ayamin returned the message up the line. "They remain contained."

  "Good." Vorec cleared his throat, but he did not appear so relieved. "It is most likely the stones settling after the battle."

  Vorec dragged her closer to the Chamber of the Tue-Rah. Another faint skittering sounded, faint enough to be imaginary. A hot painful tightening burned through Amelia's elmis. Energy and alarm surged through her as another sensation became more prominent. "When you killed the creatures in the menagerie, did you kill the hook-fanged spiders?" she asked hoarsely.

  Vorec continued walking. "Stop testing my patience, pinchat."

  The sensation intensified within Amelia, becoming dreadfully clear. "Did you kill the hook-fanged spiders?" she demanded, her voice stronger this time.

  "Burned them in their rooms," Vorec said. They had nearly reached the entrance. The enormous banded door was not secured as it should have been. Though the left was firmly shut, the right remained partially cracked. Wide enough for a man or a large spider to pass through. "Turned them to ash. Should have kept them alive long enough to feed you to them. But they're all dead now."

  "They're not dead," Amelia whispered. Alarm punched through her. She dug her feet down. "Vorec, they're not dead! They're in there! It's a trap." Her voice grew louder and louder as she struggled to gain some grip on the ground.

  "Trap?" Vorec hefted her forward. "Don't be ridiculous. They couldn't have survived the fires anyway."

  "Air shafts," Amelia gasped. The terror exploding through her rushed with more pain and awareness than the flogging. "They could have gone through the shafts."

  "Gone through the shafts?" Vorec laughed. "Spiders aren't that smart. Besides they're too big to fit."

  "They're smart! They don't want to die. And I'm not going to die by them. They're attracted to fear. They know how to put out torches and put prey in darkness. Vorec, listen to me! Everyone, get away from here. Get out! Get out!"

  Vorec struck the side of her head again. He then turned to the nearest Ayamin. "Once we're through have the Paras start moving up."

  Amelia gulped in deep breaths, fighting all the harder now. Footsteps moved above her. She could practically see the furred mandibles and milky eyes waiting for them beyond the door. And she couldn't make her body cooperate. "Giant spiders," she murmured. "They're there." Sweat rolled down her neck and arms. Her feet slid across the marble flo
or as he dragged her forward.

  "You can be glad I don't believe that, pinchat," Vorec said coldly. "Otherwise I'd throw you in and let them finish you off. But as always you place your confidence and your fear in all the wrong things." He pulled her beneath the arch and through the partially opened door.

  The Chamber of the Tue-Rah was almost precisely as it had been the last time she'd seen it. Cool blue light filtered down, and the Tue-Rah shone bright, its light warm and yellow. It was like a mystic candle suspended over the pedestal and beneath the arches.

  Though she saw nothing, Amelia knew they were there. Up in the ceiling. On the walls. They were waiting. Amelia strained, her panic intensifying like a wild creature about to be slaughtered. "They're in here!" she screamed.

  "So much for all that bravery," Vorec said darkly. He pulled her farther in. "I was just going to put this bullet in your head and give you a quiet death, but I have half a mind to cut your throat and send you to Ecekom half dead. You deserve every moment of pain and suffering—"

  The door slammed shut.

  Vorec spun around, still gripping Amelia. A mass of milky eyes and crooked legs and furred mandibles swarmed the door. Five, seven, eight, ten, more than a dozen spiders raced back and forth along the massive doors, sealing them with arm-thick webs.

  * * *

  Naatos kept his temper restrained but barely. As he replayed the events of the past several hours, he realized the reasons for QueQoa's error, but it didn't make him any less annoyed. At the very least this would be wrapped up soon.

  The insult to finalize the annoyance was the shackles the incompetent Awdawms brought out.

  "You realize we can snap these whenever we want?" WroOth asked as a small Ayamin wrapped the double-linked chain over his wrists.

  "Except you can't," the Ayamin said. "Not if you don't want the…" He hesitated, as if not sure what to call Amelia. "Not if you don't want her to die."