by Terah Edun
“It doesn't have to be an unpleasant conversation,” she interjected quickly. “I'm sure we can be mutually beneficial to each other. We bring you news from across the realm and we also have very urgent business to attend to, Seven, so if you would be accommodating, we would be much obliged…”
Her voice trailed off as the sneer returned to his face.
If he's not careful his face will get stuck like that, she fumed internally.
Though she was careful to keep a polite expression on her own face. She didn't want to scare the only sentient-looking being for miles around. Who knew what else they would find if they kept poking around long enough? And there was also the small matter of the shields that surrounded them. The inner shield would only last as long as Ciardis, Thanar, and Sebastian kept pouring magic into its enforcement. Which required them to be well rested and, more importantly, awake for the foreseeable period. And they had already been without sleep for more than a day.
She could feel it in her mind as well as within her bones: they were all tired enough to collapse in their dirty, sweaty, dusty clothes this very minute.
Not that she'd expected a suitable welcoming party in a city known for hosting the living dead…but she had hoped for an inn of sorts. Or somewhere they could go to ground and reassess the situation.
Somewhere with a door and an easily guardable entrance, preferably.
And pigs will fly, Ciardis thought wearily.
Don't give up yet, said Thanar. You just may get your bath.
Bath, said Ciardis. Who said I wanted a bath?
Sebastian answered for Thanar: We know you all too well, Ciardis Weathervane. You'd bathe before you ate, given the choice.
And fall asleep in the water as well, added Thanar.
Enough, said Ciardis, flustered.
It wasn't every day they ganged up together to tease her. Usually they were ganging up on each other.
Finally Seven sighed. “I do believe you're right. My manners have been appalling.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, and Ciardis's shoulders started to loosen from the tension that had kept them stiff as a board since the conversation began.
Finally they were getting somewhere.
Seven began to pace back and forth in front of them with a practiced air.
“You see, my dear friends, I am Seven and I hail from the Council of Ten,” he said as he stopped in front of Christian, looked him and up and down, then continued pacing.
Ciardis felt hope bloom in her chest.
A council was good. Very good. It meant order. Hopefully even a system of rule and council members who could much more quickly help them track down the two things they sought—the collar of Diamis and the escaped wyvern.
Then Seven spoke again, and her heart felt like this time it was going to stop in her chest.
“I am appointed by the council to greet our guests,” said Seven, “and bring you before our membership for judgment to be passed.”
“Judgment?” whispered Ciardis uneasily.
The others stirred behind her and the soldiers quietly slipped to the western and eastern sides of the group.
“What is this about?” Sebastian asked.
Seven turned his gaze and his entire body toward Sebastian and led his inner membranes retreat into his eye sockets again, so that only the blood-red orbs showed once more.
“Well, prince heir,” the man said, “the council has waited five decades for this moment.”
Sebastian stiffened.
Seven chuckled. “Yes, I know who you are. I've known since you crossed the barrier, and it's time now that you pay the price.”
Frustrated and willing to take no more, Ciardis stepped forward, directly into Seven's line of sight. Red orbs or no red orbs.
Her new place happened to be directly in front of Sebastian, but she was sure he didn't mind.
Or at least that’s what she told herself.
And when the prince heir tried to displace her with firm hands on her shoulders, she not so subtly raised a booted foot and slammed into his heel.
His curses were loud enough for Seven to hear, which apparently amused the bloodsucker greatly. Because he actually gave her a genuine smile this time.
One that finally showed his teeth in full formation.
Pointed, with jagged edges on both rows.
Ciardis blanched but held her ground.
“I'll have a clear answer about what the council wants with Prince Heir Sebastian Athanos Algardis before we go a step further,” she announced with steel in her voice.
“I don't know who you are,” said Seven in genuinely puzzled voice, “but I think I like you, so I'll honor your request.”
Ciardis cleared her throat in a pointed manner. She wasn't sure if she liked being liked by a creature with more teeth than a dragon in its mouth.
Seven stepped back and continued his pacing.
“We, the council, are charging the Algardis imperial throne with negligence, malfeasance, and genocide. In lieu of having the Emperor Bastian Athanos Algardis to answer for his crimes, his son Sebastian will be judged.”
Ciardis gasped.
“And who are you to proclaim yourself judge, jury, and executioner?” she said in horror before she could think.
“Not me,” Seven said without affront. “The city will judge his throne's crime. I am merely the steward to make sure he is taken before the council.”
Sebastian cleared his throat, and this time he stepped around Ciardis.
“If I may?” Sebastian said while looking to Seven.
Seven nodded.
“Those are serious charges you've laid against my family, and I believe everyone should be held accountable for their actions,” Sebastian said formally.
“You idiot,” Ciardis said, not bothering to say it mind to mind.
Sebastian ignored her.
“But my family's actions have always been done in service of the empire. No crimes were committed here,” Sebastian said.
Seven raised an eyebrow. “Look around you, prince heir. You think this city has become what it is by accident?”
Sebastian did Seven the courtesy of doing as he asked.
“I think,” the prince heir said after a long pause, “that many cities in the west have been long forgotten under the harsh regime of a virulent plague. But all of our actions were done with the consent of those we governed, and with the intent to return and reopen these cities one day.”
Seven laughed. He actually laughed.
“Oh, a pretty story, prince heir, but save your pleas and your lies for the council's ears and not just my own,” he said maliciously. “They will hear you and they will sentence you with the city's will.”
Ciardis felt the pit of her stomach drop further. She had noticed that Seven had given up all pretense of predicating a judgment anymore. Now it was a sentencing. This was not good.
Sebastian studied Seven's face carefully.
Whatever he was looking for, he did not find.
Because his next words threw down a gauntlet that Ciardis knew could only end in one way.
“And if I refuse to come before your council and be judged for a set of crimes that were not committed?” the prince heir said.
The bloodsucker tilted his head with a cold smile. “My dear prince heir, you have no choice in anything.”
Sebastian raised his weapon, and at the same time called upon his magic until the sword glowed with otherworldly magic. “I'm not your dear anything. I suggest you step aside and let us pass.”
Ha! Ciardis couldn't help but exclaim in joy in her mind. Now that's how you start a fight and win it without shedding a drop of blood.
But her joy was short-lived, because from one moment to the next, the balance of power changed.
Seven dropped his smile and raised a hand.
Ciardis didn't even feel him call on his magic. It was just there. Dark, bloodthirsty, ravenous, like the city itself.
The magic flew through the air on red
ley lines and pierced the shield, both shields, in a thousand sections.
Their protections crumbled like glass under a barrage of rocks, and before anyone could even think to attack Seven, he dropped his hand and waves of ravenous hordes came boiling out of the alleys they had retreated to, with snapping jaws and clawed hands that scraped just in front of the air of the captive group's faces.
They were surrounded before they could even raise a blade in defense.
But the horde didn't attack. It waited like a hungry, ravenous dog for orders from its master.
Seven moved around and between the individual members of the horde like a shepherd walking through his flock, uncaring that their blood stained his hands or their caked dirt left trails of dark matter on his formerly pristine clothes.
He came to a stop before Sebastian and said, “Well, prince heir, do you want to rethink that declaration now?”
Ciardis stood stock-still as mindless creatures dripped blood-filled saliva onto her nose—they were that close—and waited to hear Sebastian's answer.
She knew, and he knew, that they couldn't call up their magic quickly enough to counteract Seven's own magic gifts and the horde that was close enough to bite through each of their necks with a snap of their dripping teeth.
Prince Heir Sebastian Athanos Algardis opened his mouth and said, “I yield.”
18
Seven didn't smile.
He didn't have to.
He just turned without another word and swept his arms out wide to either side with his back to them.
As if he was dividing water, the horde cleared a path two people wide in front of him and he walked through the path.
And they followed. Occasionally an individual would lunge forward to snap at their necks and exposed arms with a furious look in its eyes.
But it never made the mistake of letting teeth or clawed fingers touch skin.
Ciardis couldn't help but flinch when a snapping jaw came absurdly close to her right ear.
So close that flecks of spittle landed on her cheek.
She kept her head high, though. She refused to wipe it off.
It was a badge of honor in a city gone mad.
Still, she was absurdly grateful when Thanar swept his wings forward just a smidge, ostensibly to keep his flesh from touching the hordes that ran alongside them. The wings were just wide enough that they shielded her on either side from the prying, hungry gazes.
She could have cried in that moment of privacy.
As they wound through the dirty streets littered with a mushy layer of rotting vegetation that seemed like it should have been gone by now but wasn’t, forgotten clothing, and mud, Ciardis looked around.
The buildings inside the fortress were a stark contrast to the walls that surrounded it.
Where it was white and pristine, these were dirty and crumbling.
Where it was a perfect octagon, these were square blocks that had long ago given in to all manners of vines and climbing trellises gone wild.
She didn't see a single other soul that possessed its own mind as Seven did.
The city seemed inhabited by nothing but lunatic hordes and a lone representative.
Except for this mysterious Council of Ten, Ciardis thought. Where had they come from?
At that moment she wished she'd studied the history of Kifar more thoroughly.
They had had books and maps of the area, but for the most part all was destroyed in Raisa's spontaneous fit. Now they went into a situation blind, when it seemed the council held all the cards.
They turned a corner for the fifth time as Ciardis started to feel like a dead person walking.
Her feet felt like bricks attached to her legs as she fought her way through the refuse that lined the city streets in layers almost a foot deep.
The refuse itself didn't disturb her so much, but she was tired to her bones and knew that in this second they needed all their wits about them.
Swallowing, she looked around as Thanar suddenly removed his wings, which had blocked her view of her surroundings and the horde from seeing her.
She looked to her right as Seven appeared and snapped his fingers. “Off, off with you lot.”
The horde hovered while an almost inaudible whine slowly rose over the lot.
Seven turned to the creatures who'd gathered in a massive horde behind him. Whatever look he gave them must have been enough, because the layer of individuals closest to him peeled away with a scamper and the others soon followed with their proverbial tails stuck between their legs.
Then Seven turned back with a chilly laugh. “They're hungry, you see.”
“For meat?” said Rachael almost without a care. She couldn't quite pull off the tone, though; nervousness laced her voice.
Seven smiled. “For more…existential feedings.”
Ciardis felt a chill down to her very bones.
She didn't like this one bit. Seven and his pets creeped her out.
“Well, where are my manners?” their host said.
He held out a hand to indicate a building that looked like all the others, though it was a bit larger, with stately marble columns in the front. Or what she assumed were columns.
They had the general shape and appearance but were covered from roof to base in a thick green vine that looked so entrenched Ciardis thought it would be better to destroy the column itself than try to pry the hardy plant from its chosen perch.
“This is our…city hall, if you will,” said Seven.
Sebastian stepped forward and Ciardis slapped a hand on his forearm in case he was thinking of doing anything stupid, like turning himself over to the maniacal fool.
“Not to worry, lady,” Seven said gently. “Now is not his time.”
“What do you mean?” said Sebastian with a steely look.
“I mean,” said Seven as he walked toward them and folded his hands, “we have a policy in our fair city. No trials on what is generally our resting day.”
Ciardis raised an eyebrow. She had never heard of a resting day.
“So you are in luck, my prince,” Seven continued. “We will house you for the day in your very own holding chambers and you will have the day to do as you will.”
Sebastian said, “That is very kind of you.”
His tone said it was anything but.
“Yes, it is,” said Seven in a brittle voice. “If I had my way, you would not even have this day.”
“Then we're very lucky you don't,” said Raisa with a cold voice.
Ciardis turned to look at her and almost did a double take.
The ambassador looked different…wretched. And Ciardis didn't mean sick. She was almost folded in on herself, with her shoulders hunched and her waist bent. Her face looked weary, if still angry. Her hair had lost its luster and the very air about her was weak.
Ciardis didn't know how she'd done it, but the dragon looked more human and pitiful than the actual humans who surrounded her.
Severn narrowed his eyes but did not respond to the ambassador's statement.
Christian, however, did something that Ciardis wouldn't have believed if her own mother had told her he had done so.
He stepped forward and put a consoling arm around the hunched shoulders of the suddenly enfeebled dragon and glared at their captor. “I am a healer and this is my patient. She's weary and needs medical attention immediately.”
Since when? Ciardis almost snapped, but restrained herself, just barely.
She could see that Christian and Raisa were playing a part—to what end, she had no idea. But she wasn't going to disturb their scene worthy of the finest play.
“Yes,” said Raisa in a voice that almost trembled. It didn't quite make it to a pitiful level, but for a dragon whose middle name might have been “haughty,” it was pretty good.
Ciardis's eyes darted back and forth between the pair and their captive audience.
Seven, for his part, paused and put a dramatic finger to his lips. “Well, well—sick, yo
u say?”
“And weary,” added Christian helpfully.
Seven gave him a baleful look. “I cannot tell if you and your 'patient' are playing tricks on me and your friends, but it hardly matters. You know our fair city well. Too well, it seems.”
Ciardis waited for someone, anyone to reveal what in the world was going on.
Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long.
Seven sighed. “According to the laws and structures of Kifar, I give you…”
“…and our companions,” Raisa said with a triumphant flash of her eyes.
Seven paused, and Raisa quickly hunched over with a raised fist to her mouth and gave a convincing cough.
They waited.
Seven picked up where he'd left off…reluctantly.
“…and your companions,” he muttered, “guest rights and hospitality quarters due to the sick and ailing.”
Raisa straightened a bit and pinned him with a bright, if toothy, smile. Ciardis wasn't sure if he noticed how sharp the feeble human's pointed molars were, but if he did, he didn't say anything.
“Although I intended to lodge you in the cell quarters due a man of your station,” Seven said with a twitching eye as he pinned his gaze on Sebastian, “you will be remanded with your companions to one lodge instead.”
Christian murmured thanks. Ciardis had the feeling that when he said “cell quarters” he meant prison, and when he said “station” he meant “steaming pile of dung,” so she was suddenly very grateful for Raisa and Thanar's intervention.
Sebastian gave Seven a sharp smile as he said, “That will do nicely.”
“I'm sure,” Seven said in a low voice.
Ciardis saw his fist clench and unclench by his side.
It was a sign of anger. That was good. That meant that he wasn't infallible.
Finally Seven held out a hand in the opposite direction of the city hall and said, “If you'll all follow me.”
They journeyed to a building not one block away from “city hall.” It even looked mildly taken care of. The front door wasn't rotting off its hinges, and the two columns bracing it weren't being held up by a barrage of vines.
They walked in and up a flight of stairs to a set of double doors.
Ciardis itched to toss a dagger in their host's back as they approached the guest quarters, but a quick shake of Raisa's head as she did her best to still look weak was enough to tell Ciardis that now was not the time.